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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9d19b88 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #60585 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60585) diff --git a/old/60585-0.txt b/old/60585-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0fcb94e..0000000 --- a/old/60585-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9478 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Life, Travels, and Literary Career of -Bayard Taylor, by Russell H. Conwell - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Life, Travels, and Literary Career of Bayard Taylor - -Author: Russell H. Conwell - -Release Date: October 28, 2019 [EBook #60585] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE, TRAVELS, CAREER OF BAYARD TAYLOR *** - - - - -Produced by WebRover, Peter Vachuska, Chuck Greif and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - -[Illustration: _Bayard Taylor._] - - - - - THE - LIFE, TRAVELS, AND LITERARY CAREER - OF - BAYARD TAYLOR. - - “Crown Love, crown Truth when first her brow appears, - And crown the hero when his deeds are done: - The Poet’s leaves are gathered one by one. - In the slow process of the doubtful years. - Who seeks too eagerly, he shall not find: - Who seeking not pursues with single mind - Art’s lofty aim, to him will she accord, - At her appointed time, the sure reward.” - - BY - RUSSELL H. CONWELL, - - AUTHOR OF “LIFE OF PRESIDENT HAYES,” “WHY AND HOW THE CHINESE - EMIGRATE,” “HISTORY OF THE GREAT FIRE IN BOSTON,” “HISTORY OF - THE GREAT FIRE IN SAINT JOHN, N. B.,” “LESSONS OF TRAVEL,” - ETC., ETC. - - BOSTON: - B. B. RUSSELL & CO., No. 57 CORNHILL. - DETROIT: R. D. S. TYLER & CO. PORTLAND: JOHN RUSSELL. - PHILADELPHIA: QUAKER CITY PUBLISHING HOUSE. - NEW YORK: CHARLES DREW. CHICAGO: ANDREWS & DORMAN. - INDIANAPOLIS, IND.: FRED L. HORTON & CO. - 1879. - - Copyright, - BY B. B. RUSSELL & CO., - 1879 - - BOSTON: - Printed by ALBERT J. WRIGHT, 79 Milk Street. - - - - -TO THE MISTRESS OF MY HOME. - - - “My tears were on the pages as I read - The touching close: I made the story mine, - Within whose heart, long plighted to the dead, - Love built his living shrine.” - - “For she is lost; but she, the later bride, - Who came my ruined fortune to restore; - Back from the desert wanders at my side, - And leads me home once more.” - - —_Poet’s Journal._ - - - - -PREFACE. - - -It is a solemn yet pleasant duty to compile in comprehensive order -the records of a life so eventful and influential as that of Bayard -Taylor. It is solemn, because the sad tears which began to flow at his -death, are coursing freely still. Pleasant, because there is no task -more satisfactory than that of recounting the deeds of a virtuous, -industrious, heroic life. No test-book of morals, or of general history, -is so effective in educating the young as the annals of well-spent years, -gathered for that purpose. There is more or less influence in fables and -mythological tales; and there is considerable power in a well written, -skilfully plotted work of fiction; but the direct and unavoidable appeal -of a noble life, which has closed with honor and deserved renown, is far -more potent and permanent in the culture and reformation of the world, -than all other forms of intellectual and moral quickening. No apology is -needed for writing such a biography. It would be inexcusable to leave the -world in need of it. When the time comes for a book more complete in its -arrangement and details, and more select in its diction, this will find -its proper place in library and reading-room. Until that time it may be -at work renewing the memories of a friend, refreshing the recollection -of his sweet words, and calling the attention of the stranger to the -American who has paid to Europe some of the literary debt we have owed -so long. - -The writer does not expect that this book will occupy the permanent place -in literature, which he sincerely hopes will reward those authors who -may follow him on this same topic. Written amid the pressing calls of a -busy profession, and in the season when lyceum lecture engagements, which -he could not postpone, have kept him continually away from his home; he -has attempted nothing more than to give an outline of a remarkable life, -for the purpose of satisfying the present demand. Errors may be found by -critics, such as all hastily written volumes are liable to contain; but -should this work, as a whole, incline the reader to honor the manhood, -love the poetry, and revere the memory of one whom the writer for many -years has admired and loved, it will answer the purpose for which it has -been written. - -The author cannot do less than acknowledge, in this place, his great -obligations to the father and mother of Mr. Taylor, to Mrs. Annie Carey, -his sister, and to Dr. Franklin Taylor, his cousin, for their generous -courtesy and most important assistance in gathering the facts for this -volume. - -All the poetical quotations in this book are from Taylor’s poetical works. - -The account of the funeral found in this volume was written subsequent to -the other portions of the work, as the obsequies and burial took place -after the first edition was printed and sold. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - CHAPTER I. - - Mr. Taylor’s Career.—Difficulty and Importance of the Work.—The - Romance of his Life.—Variable Experience.—His Success as - Novelist, Orator, Traveller, and Poet, 13 - - CHAPTER II. - - German Ancestry.—English Ancestry.—The Pennsylvania - Germans.—The Quakers.—How his Forefathers came to America.—The - Effect of Intermixture of Races.—The Hereditary Traits seen in - his Books, 17 - - CHAPTER III. - - Birth at Kennett Square.—Old Homestead.—The Quaker Church.—The - Village.—His Father’s Store.—Life on the Farm.—Mischievous - School-boy.—Inclination to write Poetry.—Practical - Joker.—Studious Youth.—His Parents.—His Brothers and Sisters, 21 - - CHAPTER IV. - - Unfitness for Farming.—Love for Books.—Goes to the - Academy.—Appearance as a Student.—Love for Geography - and History.—Enters a Printing-office.—Genius for - Sketching.—Correspondence with Literary Men.—Their Advice.—Hon. - Charles Miner.—Putnam’s Tourist Guide.—Determination to go to - Europe.—Dismal Prospects, 29 - - CHAPTER V. - - Visited by his Cousin.—Decides to go to Europe with his - Cousin.—Correspondence with Travellers.—Lack of Money.—Unshaken - Confidence.—Publication of Ximena, 33 - - CHAPTER VI. - - The Contest with Enemies.—Departure from - Philadelphia.—Friendship of N. P. Willis.—Discouraging - Reception.—Interview with Horace Greeley.—Searching for a - Vessel.—Steerage Passage for Liverpool.—Fellow Passengers.—The - Voyage.—The Beauty of the Sea.—Lauding at Liverpool, 42 - - CHAPTER VII. - - Departure from Liverpool.—Travels Second-Class.—Arrival at - Port Rush.—The Giant’s Causeway.—Lost and in Danger.—Dunluce - Castle.—Effect upon the Travellers.—Condition of the - Irish.—Arrival at Dumbarton.—Scaling the Castle Walls.—Walk - to Loch Lomond.—Ascent of Ben Lomond.—Loch Katrine.—Visit to - Stirling, 50 - - CHAPTER VIII. - - Visit to the Home of Burns.—The Poet’s Cottage.—The - Celebration.—Walks and Rides in the Rain.—Edinburgh.—Its - Associations.—The Teachings of History.—Home - of Drummond.—Abbotsford.—Melrose.—Jedburgh - Abbey.—Newcastle-on-Tyne, 59 - - CHAPTER IX. - - Visit in London.—Exhibition of Relics.—The Lessons of - Travel.—Historical Association.—London to Ostend.—The Cathedral - at Aix-la-Chapelle.—The Great Cathedral at Cologne.—Voyage up - the Rhine.—Longfellow’s “Hyperion.”—Visit to Frankfort.—Kind - Friends.—Reaches Heidelberg.—Climbing the Mountains, 67 - - CHAPTER X. - - Study in Frankfort.—Lack of Money.—Different Effect of - Want on Travellers.—Bayard’s Privations.—Again sets out on - Foot.—Visit to the Hartz Mountains.—The Brocken.—Scenes - in “Faust.”—Locality in Literature.—The Battle-field at - Leipsic.—Auerbach’s Cellar, 77 - - CHAPTER XI. - - Pictures at Dresden.—Raphael’s Madonna.—Bayard’s Art - Education.—His Exalted Ideas of Art.—His Enthusiasm.—Visits - Bohemia.—Stay in Prague.—The Curiosities of Vienna.—Tomb of - Beethoven.—Respect for Religion.—Listens to Strauss.—View of - Lintz.—Munich and its Decorations.—The Home of Schiller.—Poetic - Landscapes, and Charming People.—Statue by Thorwaldsen.—Walk to - Heidelberg, 85 - - CHAPTER XII. - - Starts for Switzerland and Italy.—First View of the - Alps.—The Falls of the Rhine.—Zurich.—A Poet’s Home.—Lake - Lucerne.—Goethe’s Cottage.—Scenes in the Life of William - Tell.—Ascent of the Alps at St. Gothard.—Descent into - Italy.—The Cathedral at Milan.—Bayard’s Characteristics.—Tramp - to Genoa.—Visits Leghorn and Pisa.—Lovely Florence.—Delightful - Visits.—The Home of Art, 95 - - CHAPTER XIII. - - Visit to Rome.—Attractions of its Ruins.—Bayard’s Persistent - Searches.—His Limited Means.—Sights and Experiences.—Journey to - Marseilles.—Walks to Lyons.—Desperate Circumstances.—Stay in - Paris.—Employment of his Time.—Departure for London.—Failure - to obtain Money or Work.—Seeks a Friend.—Obtains Help from a - Stranger.—Voyage to New York.—Arrival Home, 106 - - CHAPTER XIV. - - Edits a Country Newspaper.—The “Phœnixville Pioneer.”—The - Discouragements.—The Suspension.—Publishes “Views - Afoot.”—Introduction to Literary Men.—Contributes to - the “Literary World.”—Becomes an Editor of the New York - “Tribune.”—The Gold Excitement of 1849.—Resolves to visit the - Eldorado.—Arrival in California, 115 - - CHAPTER XV. - - Entrance to California.—The Camp at San - Francisco in 1849.—Description of the - People.—Gold-Hunters.—Speculations.—Prices of - Merchandise.—Visit to the Diggings.—Adventures on - the Route.—The First Election.—The Constitutional - Convention.—San Francisco after Two Months’ Absence.—Poetical - Descriptions.—Departure for Mexico.—Arrival at - Mazatlan.—Overland to the Capital.—Adventure with - Robbers.—Return to New York, 120 - - CHAPTER XVI. - - The Poet’s First Love.—Playmates.—Miss Mary S. Agnew.—His - Fidelity.—Poems Inspired by Affection.—Her Failing - Health.—Consumption.—His Return to Her.—The Marriage at the - Death-bed.—Her Death.—The Poet’s Grief.—His Inner Life.—The - Story in his own Rhyme, 133 - - CHAPTER XVII. - - Grief and Despair.—Describes his Feelings.—Failing - Health.—Severe Mental Labor.—Decides to go to Africa.—Visits - Vienna.—Arrival at Alexandria.—Sails up the Nile.—Scenes - in Cairo.—The Pyramids.—The Lovely Nile.—An Important and - Pleasant Acquaintance.—A Lasting Friendship.—Learning the - Language.—Assuming the Costume.—Sights by the Way, 151 - - CHAPTER XVIII. - - Moslem. Worship.—Scenery of the Nile.—Fellowship - with the People.—The Temple of Dendera.—Mr. Taylor’s - Enthusiasm.—Luxor.—Karnak.—The Extent of Ancient Thebes.—The - Tombs and Statues.—The Natives.—Arrives at Assouan.—The Island - of Philæ.—Separation of the Friends.—Starts for the White - Nile.—Trip through the Desert.—Again on The Nile.—Reception by - the People and Officials.—Visits Ancient Meroe, 164 - - CHAPTER XIX. - - From Meroe to Khartoum.—Twenty-seventh Birth-day.—Desire to - Explore Central Africa.—Ascent of the White Nile.—Adventure - with the Savage Shillooks.—Visits the Natives.—Return to - Khartoum.—Crossing the Desert.—Parting with Friends.—Descent of - the Nile.—Arrival at Cairo, 174 - - CHAPTER XX. - - Departure from Egypt.—A Poet in Palestine.—Difference - in Travellers.—Mr. Taylor’s Appreciation.—First View of - Tyre.—Route to Jerusalem.—The Holy City.—Bath in the Dead - Sea.—Appearance of Jerusalem.—Samaria.—Looking down upon - Damascus.—Life in the eldest City.—The Bath.—Dose of - Hashish.—Being a Turk among Turks, 182 - - CHAPTER XXI. - - Leaving Damascus.—Arrival at Beyrout.—Trip to - Aleppo.—Enters Asia Minor.—The Scenery and People.—The - Hills of Lebanon.—Beautiful Scenes about Brousa.—Enters - Constantinople.—A Prophecy.—Return to Smyrna.—Again - in Italy.—Visits his German Friend at Gotha.—The - Home of his Second Love.—Goes to London.—Visits - Gibraltar.—Cadiz.—Seville.—Spanish History, 194 - - CHAPTER XXII. - - Leaves Gibraltar for Alexandria.—Egypt and Old Friends.—The - Town of Suez.—Embarks for Bombay.—Mocha and its - Coffee.—Aden.—Arrival in Bombay.—Reception by the People.—Trip - to Elephanta.—Ride into the Interior.—Difficulties of the - Journey.—Views of Agra.—Scenes about Delhi.—Starts for the - Himalaya Mountains, 206 - - CHAPTER XXIII. - - The Himalaya Mountains.—Returning Southward.—Lucknow and - Calcutta.—Foretells the Great Rebellion.—Embarks for - China.—Visit to the Mountains of Penang.—The Chinese at - Singapore.—Arrival at Hong-Kong.—Joins the Staff of the - U. S. Commissioner.—Scenes about Shanghai.—The Nanking - Rebellion.—Life in Shanghai.—Enlists in the Navy.—Commodore - Perry’s Expedition, 221 - - CHAPTER XXIV. - - His Reception on the Man-of-war.—Commodore Perry’s - Tribute.—Mr. Taylor’s Journals.—Visit to the Loo-Choo - Islands.—Explorations.—Mr. Taylor becomes a Favorite.—His - Description of the Country.—Cruise to Japan.—The Purpose - of the Expedition.—Mr. Taylor’s Assistance.—Return to - Hong-Kong.—Resigns his Commission.—Visits Canton.—Sails for - America.—St. Helena.—Arrival in New York, 230 - - CHAPTER XXV. - - Takes up the Editorial Pen.—Publication of His “Poems - of the Orient.”—His Books of Travel.—Lecturing before - Lyceums.—Friendship of Richard H. Stoddard.—Private - Correspondence.—Love of Fun.—Resolves to Build a Home at - Kennett.—Changes of Intemperance.—Preparations for a Third Trip - to Europe.—Acquaintance with Thackeray, 242 - - CHAPTER XXVI. - - Visit to Europe.—Reception in England.—Company in - Charge.—Starts for Sweden.—Stockholm.—The Dangerous Ride.—The - Severe Cold.—Arrival in Lapland.—First Experience with - Canoes and Reindeers.—Becomes a Lapp.—The Extreme North.—The - Days without a Sun.—“Yankee Doodle.”—The Return.—Study - in Stockholm.—Return to Germany and London.—Embarks for - Norway.—Meets his Friend at Christiania.—The Coast of - Norway.—The Midnight Sun.—Trip across Norway and Sweden.—Return - to Germany, 252 - - CHAPTER XXVII. - - His Marriage.—German Relatives.—Intention of Visiting - Siberia.—Goes to Greece instead.—Dalmatia.—Spolato.—Arrival - at Athens.—His first View of the Propylæa.—The - Parthenon.—Excursion to Crete.—Earthquake at - Corinth.—Mycenæ.—Sparta.—The Ruins of Olympia.—Visit to - Thermopylæ.—Aulis.—Return to Athens.—His Acquirements, 265 - - CHAPTER XXVIII. - - From Constantinople to Gotha.—Visit to Russia.—Moscow - and St. Petersburg.—Return to Prussia.—Arrival in the - United States.—Incessant Work.—Lecturing and Travels in - California.—The Construction of Cedarcroft.—His Patriotic - Addresses and Poems.—Visits Germany in 1861.—Anxiety for the - Fate of His Nation.—Life at Cedarcroft, 276 - - CHAPTER XXIX. - - Appointed as Secretary of Legation.—Life in St. - Petersburg.—Literary Labors.—His Home at Kennett.—Publication - of his Poems.—Visits Iceland.—His Poem at the Millennial - Celebration.—Appointment as Minister to Berlin.—His - Congratulations.—Reception at Berlin.—His Death, 287 - - CHAPTER XXX. - - His Friends.—The Multitude of Mourners.—His London - Acquaintances.—Tennyson, Cornwall, Browning, Carlyle.—German - Popularity.—Auerbach.—Humboldt.—French Authors.—Early American - Friends.—Stoddard, Willis, Kane, Bryant, Halleck, Powers, - Greeley, Mrs. Kirkland, Whittier, Longfellow, Holmes, Emerson, - Lowell, Dana, Alcott, Aldrich, Whipple, Curtis, Fields, Boker, - Chandler.—Relatives, 296 - - CHAPTER XXXI. - - Translations of “Faust.”—A Life-work.—Discouragements.—The - Scenes in “Faust.”—The Difficulties.—Magnitude of the - Work.—Perseverance.—The Lives of Goethe and Schiller.—Years - in the Work.—The Estimate by Scholars.—Dies with the Work - Unfinished, 308 - - CHAPTER XXXII. - - Grief at his Death.—Homage of the Great Men of Germany.—Tribute - from Auerbach.—Tributes from his Neighbors at Kennett - Square.—Extracts from Addresses.—The Great Memorial Gathering - at Boston.—The Great Assembly.—Speeches and Letters.—Address - of Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes.—Henry W. Longfellow’s - Poem.—Letters from John G. Whittier, George William Curtis, - W. D. Howells, T. B. Aldrich, James T. Fields, Whitelaw - Reid, E. P. Whipple.—Tributes from other friends.—Funeral - Ceremonies.—Closing Quotations, 317 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. - - - BAYARD TAYLOR, Frontispiece. - - TOWER OF LONDON, Opposite page 68 - - THE DANUBE AT LINTZ, ” ” 89 - - THE ARENA OF THE COLISEUM, ” ” 107 - - PLACE DE LA CONCORDE, ” ” 111 - - CASTLE OF CHAPULTEPEC, ” ” 131 - - PHILÆ COLONNADE, ” ” 170 - - SCENE IN NORTH AFRICA, ” ” 178 - - NATIVE COTTAGES IN THE TROPICS, ” ” 224 - - PAGAN TEMPLE IN JAPAN, ” ” 236 - - SLEDGES, ” ” 255 - - LAZARETTO CHRISTIANSAND, ” ” 257 - - CEDARCROFT, KENNETT SQUARE, PA., ” ” 285 - - NICHOLAS BRIDGE, ” ” 287 - - - - -THE LIFE, TRAVELS, AND LITERARY CAREER OF BAYARD TAYLOR. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - Mr. Taylor’s Career.—Difficulty and Importance of the Work.—The - Romance of his Life.—Variable Experience.—His Success as - Novelist, Orator, Traveller, and Poet. - - -The nearness and magnitude of Bayard Taylor’s life make it one -exceedingly difficult to comprehend and classify. His adventures were so -many, his struggles so severe, his experience so varied, and his final -success so remarkable, that the materials are too abundant, and often -serve to clog and confuse the student of his career. An artist who views -the mountain from its base, loses many of the finest effects and most -charming outlines, because of his very close proximity to them. So, in -looking upon the wonderful career of such a versatile and gifted man, at -a time so near his death, we are less able to form a comprehensive idea -of his life, as a symmetrical whole, than we shall be when the years -have carried us farther away from him, and the outlines of his greatness -are more distinct. Whether it were better to wait until a part of the -life has been forgotten, and until the more harsh and angular features -have been lost in the general outline, or whether it were more desirable -to describe the life in all its actual details, and in the natural -ruggedness which the close view reveals, is, however, a mere matter of -taste. To those who love to read of a man in whose work there was no -unevenness and in whose experience nothing unbroken is seen, the life of -one so long dead that the writer is compelled to fill up the forgotten -years with ideal events and motives may furnish the choicest theme. But -to those students who love scientific scrutiny, who would estimate the -life for what it is really worth as an example, the biography which is -written amid all the facts, and by one who comes in actual contact with -them, is perhaps esteemed the most valuable, although, as a whole, less -symmetrical. - -Bayard Taylor’s life was rugged and cragged with startling events, when -viewed from the kindly poetical stand-point of his character. He felt -all the extremes of joy and sorrow. He knew all the pains and honors -of poverty and wealth. He was loved by many, he was betrayed by many. -He lived in the most enlightened lands, he also sojourned among the -most barbarous people. He saw man in peace and in war. He rode the -ocean in calm and in storm. He was the welcomed guest in the lowliest -huts, and in the most gorgeous palaces. He sweltered in the sands of -tropical deserts, and he was benumbed by the fierce winds of the Northern -ice-fields. He boldly entered the haunts of wild beasts, and loved -the company of harmless and faithful domestics. He was a man of many -virtues and some faults, each of which made his life more eventful and -fascinating. - -The literary position which he held at the time of his death, and which -was so romantically attained, was one of almost universal favor. He was -respected by all and loved by many. As a writer of fiction he attained -but little celebrity, and it appears that he had little expectation of -achieving any high honors in that field. As a writer upon travels, and as -a delineator of human character as found in strange places, and in but -partially known countries, he was second to none. His books upon travel -will be read for a century to come, whether thousands or few visit the -localities and tribes he has described. As an orator, he never held a -high rank. He was chaste, concise, and clear in his choice of words, and -had an incisive, pungent way of stating his ideas. He could instruct -the student and amuse the populace, but had not the power to agitate -and carry away large bodies of men, and seems never to have been very -ambitious to do so. As a translator of German literature, he was fast -becoming recognized in all English-speaking countries as an excellent -authority, and it is deeply to be regretted that he was called away with -so many uncompleted translation, and unfinished plans for translations, -from the standards of German literature. But it is as a poet that he -receives the greatest homage. Yet how little he printed! Unless there -shall be found laid away many poems unpublished, he may be classed as -one of the least prolific poets of his generation. His lines are so -simple, so true to life, such incarnate sentences, so expressive, that, -to one who has had a similar experience with the poet, every stanza is a -panorama, vivid and indelible. We shall see as we pursue the tale, how -sensitive he was to everything poetical, and how deeply he was moved by -all those finer and more subtle emotions, which only a poet can feel. -His love was deep and abiding. His friendship, like the oaks of his -Cedarcroft woodland. His old home was to him the sweetest place in all -the beautiful lands he saw. His life was full of romantic incidents, and -he recognized them and appreciated them, for the poetry they suggested. -We venture to say that his poetry will live in every household, if all -his other works should be forgotten. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - German Ancestry.—English Ancestry.—The Pennsylvania - Germans.—The Quakers.—How his Forefathers came to America.—The - Effect of Intermixture of Races.—The Hereditary Traits seen in - his Books. - - -The ancestry of Bayard Taylor were connected with some of the best -blood of England and Germany. His grandmothers were both German, and -his grandfathers both English. The German line comes from that body -of emigrants, consisting of large numbers from Weimar, Jena, Cassel, -Göttingen, Hanover, and perhaps Gotha, who sailed from Bremen and Hamburg -between 1730 and 1745. The continued quarrels among the dukes and princes -of Germany,—the wars in progress and impending, wherein the peace of the -people was incessantly disturbed,—caused a universal uneasiness among -the people of those small nations. They never were quite sure of a day’s -rest. If they sowed unmolested, there was a grave doubt whether some -complication with France, England, or Poland might not bring foreign -invaders or allies to destroy or devour the crops. The wars were so -incessant, and the quarrels among the petty lords so frequent, that the -people became disheartened. They were weary of building for others -to destroy, and of rearing sons to be sacrificed to some individual’s -ambition. All those German provinces, or duchies, had to accommodate -themselves to the religion of their princes, and, at times, the winds -that played about the hills of the Black Forest were far less uncertain. -To the fathers of these emigrants, who sought America as a haven of -religious and political rest, George Fox and his Quaker disciples had -taught the doctrines of “The Holy Spirit,” and, under various guises, the -tenets of that belief still survived in the German heart. - -Those Germans who settled in the counties of Pennsylvania, lying to -the south and south-west of Philadelphia, came to this country during -the disturbances in the Fatherland, caused by Augustus, Maria Theresa, -Frederick, and the scores of other princes who were in power, or seeking -to secure it, in the numerous states and free cities of Germany. It is -no light excuse, no desire for mere wealth, no hasty search for the -fountains of youth, that causes the solid, earnest, patriotic people of -Saxony, Baden, or Bavaria to leave forever the home of their nativity. -It is a little curious to see how these races, which so cordially and -hospitably received the Quaker missionaries from England, should at -last unite with them in the settlement of the New World, and, by their -intermarriage, produce such offshoots of the united stock as Bayard -Taylor and his cotemporaries. - -The Quaker ancestry of the poet,—the Taylors and the Ways,—run back -through a long line of industrious men and women, more or less known -in Central Pennsylvania, to the colony which William Penn sent over -from England to cultivate the great land-grant, which King Charles II., -of England, gave him, in consideration of his father’s services as -admiral in the British navy. They, too, were driven from their homes by -the incessant turmoil either of wars or religious persecutions. Their -preachers had again and again been imprisoned, while some had died the -death of martyrs. Even Penn himself was often in chains and in prison, -for being a peaceable believer in the truth of the Quaker doctrines; -but so blameless were the lives of these people, and so forgiving their -Christian behavior, that the term “Quakers,” which was at first applied -to them in derision, became at last a title of respect and honor. “The -fear of the Lord did make us quake,” was a common expression with George -Fox, the founder of the sect, and the name “Quakers” originated in sneers -at that devout sentence. - -It is easy to trace in the history of the State of Pennsylvania, the -influence of the Quaker spirit, and its impression upon the institutions -of the American nation is also strikingly apparent. But when one takes -up the life of one of their descendants, and studies his habits, his -style of thought, and his ideas of social and political institutions, -the hereditary Quaker element, in a modified form, is detected in every -motion and expression. It would seem as if any reader, to whom the author -is unknown, would detect at once, in any volume of Taylor’s poetry or -travels, the fact that he came from Quaker stock. As will be more clearly -shown in a subsequent chapter, the teachings of the Quakers, and their -manner of expression by gesture and phrase, have unconsciously and -charmingly crept into the bosom of his best works. It is a great boon to -be born of such a physical and mental combination as that of the German -soldiers, with all their coolness and bravery, and the even-tempered, -God-fearing Quakers, with all their grace and wisdom. Such intermixture -has given to our young nation much of its surprising enterprise and -originality, and must, at last, when consolidated into a compact people, -produce a nation and a race wholly unlike any other on the earth. - -It is not known that any of Bayard Taylor’s ancestry were literary -men, or that any of them were endowed with special genius, beyond that -which was necessary to clear the forests, cultivate the soil, manage -manufacturing enterprises, and carry on small mercantile establishments. -Solid people, with wide common-sense, industrious hands and generous -hearts, they have modestly held their way, doing their simple duty, and, -Quaker-like, making no display. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - Birth at Kennett Square.—Old Homestead.—The Quaker Church.—The - Village.—His Father’s Store.—Life on the Farm.—Mischievous - School-boy.—Inclination to write Poetry.—Practical - Joker.—Studious Youth.—His Parents.—His Brothers and Sisters. - - -Bayard Taylor was born at Kennett Square, Penn., Jan. 11, 1825. His -mother, whose maiden name was Rebecca Way, was then twenty-nine years -of age, and his father was thirty-one. The house then occupied was a -two-story stone-and-mortar structure, such as are yet very common in the -farming regions of central Pennsylvania. The house was long and narrow, -having a porch that extended along the whole front. The rooms were small -and low, but it was considered by the farmers of that time as a very -comfortable and respectable home. It was located at the junction of two -highways, and near the centre of the little hamlet called the “Square,” -and sometimes the “Village.” But few families resided there in 1825, and -the people were all more or less engaged in the cultivation of the soil. -The little rude Quaker meeting-house, so box-like and cold in its aspect, -was doubtless the centre of attraction, and the desire to be near the -house of God, led those devoted Quakers to build their dwellings on that -portion of their lands which lay nearest the church. - -The village has increased in growth, and now has a population of six or -seven hundred, with several churches belonging to other denominations, -and very flourishing schools. But the old homestead building, in which -Bayard was born, was destroyed by fire in 1876. - -At the time of his birth, his father kept a miscellaneous stock of -merchandise in one room of his house, and supplied the necessities of the -farmers, so far as the small capital of a country store could anticipate -their wants. Situated thirty-five miles from Philadelphia, to which -place he was compelled to send the produce he received, and in which -place he purchased his simple stock of goods, the merchant had a task -on his hands which cannot be appreciated or understood in these days of -railways, telegraphs, and commercial travellers. One of his neighbors, -living in 1872, used to relate how Mr. Taylor, having had a call for two -hay-rakes, which he could not supply, drove all the way to West Chester, -the distance of a dozen miles, to get those tools for his customer. - -At the time of Bayard’s birth, his parents had been married seven years. -Their life had already been subject to many trials, and was fated to meet -many more. Of a family of ten children, only one-half the number survived -to see mature years. The losses by mercantile ventures, by failing -crops, by sickness and accidents, often swept away the hard earnings of -many a month. Yet they struggled on, industrious and cheerful, keeping -themselves and their children ever busy. - -When Bayard was two or three years old, his father purchased a farm about -a mile from the village, and giving up his mercantile avocations, turned -his whole attention to farming. On that farm Bayard spent the opening -years of his life, and on one section of it did he build his beautiful -home of “Cedarcroft.” - - “The beginning and the end is here— - The days of youth; the silvered years.” - -How deeply he loved his home, how sincere his affection for the rolling -fields, the chestnut and the walnut woodland, the old stone farm-house, -the clumsy barn, the old highway, the acres of corn and wheat, the -distant village and its quaint old church, can be seen in a thousand -expressions finding place in his published works. His poetical nature -opened to his view beautiful landscapes and charming associations which -others would not detect. The birds sang in an intelligible language; the -leaves on the corn entered into conversation; the lowing of the cows -could be interpreted; and the rocks were romantic story-tellers. He loved -them all. That farm was his Mecca in all his travels. When he left, he -says he promised bird, beast, trees, and knolls, that he would return -to them. To the writer, who went to Cedarcroft after the poet’s death, -and who has so long loved and admired his poetry, it seemed as if the -trees patiently awaited his return. All things in nature must have loved -and trusted him, or they would not have confided to him so many of their -secrets. - -Of the pastoral life in Pennsylvania he speaks with pleasing directness -in his volume entitled “Home Pastorals.” In one place the aged farmer -says:— - - “Well—well! this is comfort now—the air is mild as May, - And yet ’tis March the twentieth, or twenty-first, to-day; - And Reuben ploughs the hill for corn: I thought it would be tough; - But now I see the furrows turned, I guess it’s dry enough. - - I’m glad I built this southern porch; my chair seems easier here: - I haven’t seen as fine a spring this five and twenty year. - And how the time goes round so quick: a week I would have sworn, - Since they were husking on the flat, and now they plough for corn! - - Across the level Brown’s new place begins to make a show; - I thought he’d have to wait for trees, but, bless me, how they grow! - They say it’s fine—two acres filled with evergreens and things; - But so much land! it worries me, for not a cent it brings. - - He has the right, I don’t deny, to please himself that way, - But ’tis a bad example set, and leads young folks astray: - Book-learning gets the upper hand, and work is slow and slack, - And they that come long after us will find things gone to wrack. - - Well—I suppose I’m old, and yet it is not long ago - When Reuben spread the swath to dry, and Jesse learned to mow, - And William raked, and Israel hoed, and Joseph pitched with me, - But such a man as I was then my boys will never be! - - I don’t mind William’s hankering for lectures and for books, - He never had a farming knack—you’d see it in his looks; - But handsome is that handsome does, and he is well to do: - ’Twould ease my mind if I could say the same of Jesse, too. - - ’Tis like my time is nearly out; of that I’m not afraid; - I never cheated any man, and all my debts are paid. - They call it rest that we shall have, but work would do no harm; - There can’t be rivers there, and fields, without some sort o’ farm.” - -No description in prose can as well describe his occupation as a boy, as -his own lines, in the poem of the “Holly Tree.” - - “The corn was warm in the ground, the fences were mended and made, - And the garden-beds, as smooth as a counterpane is laid, - Were dotted and striped with green, where the peas and the radishes grew, - With elecampane at the foot, and comfrey, and sage, and rue. - From the knoll where stood the house, the fair fields pleasantly rolled, - To dells where the laurels hung, and meadows of buttercup gold.” - -Such was the farm when he left it, in words of the poet’s choosing, and -what he found when, after a quarter of a century of wanderings, he can -best describe. - - “Here are the fields again, the soldierly maize in tassel - Stands on review, and carries the scabbarded ears in its armpits. - Rustling, I part the ranks,—the close, engulfing battalions - Shaking their plumes overhead,—and, wholly bewildered and heated, - Gain the top of the ridge, where stands, colossal, the pin-oak. - Yonder, a mile away, I see the roofs of the village,— - See the crouching front of the meeting-house of the Quakers, - Oddly conjoined with the whittled Presbyterian steeple. - Right and left are the homes of the slow, conservative farmers, - Loyal people and true; but, now that the battles are over, - Zealous for Temperance, Peace, and the Eight of Suffrage for Women. - Orderly, moral are they,—at least, in the sense of suppression; - Given to preaching of rules, inflexible outlines of duty: - Seeing the sternness of life; but, alas! overlooking its graces. - Let me be juster: the scattered seeds of the graces are planted - Widely apart; but the trumpet-vine on the porch is a token: - Yea, and awake and alive are the forces of love and affection, - Plastic forces that work from the tenderer models of beauty.” - -There must be many things in the events of common life which find no -voice in poetry, as every life has its prose side. At all events, there -were some duties connected with agricultural work which young Bayard -never enjoyed. He never was ambitious to follow the plough, or do the -miscellaneous odd jobs which perplex and weary a farmer’s boy. Yet, like -Burns, he worked cheerfully, and wrung more or less poetry out of every -occupation. He was a spare, wiry, nervous boy, quick at work, study, -or play, and consequently had many leisure moments, when other boys -were drudging along with ceaseless toil. His schoolmates, and the only -school-teacher now living (1879) who taught him in his boyhood, all agree -that he was a mischievous boy. He loved practical jokes, and, in fact, -jokes of every kind. But he was ceaselessly framing verses. When his -lesson was mastered, which was always in an incredibly short space of -time after he took up his book, he plunged recklessly into poetry. Verses -about the teacher, about snowbanks, about buttercups, about pigs, about -courting, funerals, church services, schoolmates, and countless other -themes filled his desk, pockets, and hat. - -Often he wrote love letters, couched in the most delicate phraseology, -and signing the name of some classmate to them, would send them to -astonished ploughboys and blushing maidens. One old gentleman in West -Chester, Penn., always claimed that a set of Bayard’s burlesque verses, -sent out in that way, induced him to court and marry a girl with whom -he had no acquaintance, until the explanation of his tender epistle was -demanded by her father. What volumes of poetry he must have written, -which never saw the type, and how much more of that which he was in the -habit of repeating to himself was left unwritten! The life he led, from -his earliest school days, until he was fifteen years of age, was that -of every farmer’s boy in America, who is compelled to work hard through -the spring, summer, and autumn, and attend the district school in the -winter. The only remarkable difference between Bayard and many other -boys, was found in his strong desire to read, and his genius for poetry. -He gathered the greater part of his youthful education from books, which -he read at home, and by himself. - -He had a noble father, and a lovely mother, God bless them! and they -made it as easy for Bayard as they could in justice to the other -children. They might not have fully understood the signs of genius which -he displayed; but they put no needless stumbling-blocks in his way. No -better proof of this is needed, than the excellent record of the other -children, all of whom hold enviable positions in society. One brother, -Dr. J. Howard Taylor, is a physician, and connected with the health -department of the city of Philadelphia; another, William W. Taylor, is a -most skilful civil engineer; while a third, Col. Frederick Taylor, was -killed at the battle of Gettysburg, when leading the celebrated Bucktail -Regiment of Pennsylvania. Two sisters are living,—Mrs. Annie Carey, wife -of a Swiss gentleman; and Mrs. Lamborn, wife of Col. Charles B. Lamborn, -of Colorado. Growing up in such a family, as an elder brother, involved -much patient toil, and great responsibility. The best tribute to him, in -those days, was paid by an old lady, of Reading, Penn., who knew him in -his youth, and who summed up her evidence to the writer in the words, “He -did all he could.” - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - Unfitness for Farming.—Love for Books.—Goes to the - Academy.—Appearance as a Student.—Love for Geography - and History.—Enters a Printing-office.—Genius for - Sketching.—Correspondence with Literary Men.—Their Advice.—Hon. - Charles Miner.—Putnam’s Tourist Guide.—Determination to go to - Europe.—Dismal Prospects. - - -Joseph Taylor was too intelligent and observing not to notice how unfit -was his son Bayard for tending sheep, hoeing corn, and weeding beds of -vegetables. The intellectual inclination exhibited by the boy in every -undertaking, and his frail form, led Mr. and Mrs. Taylor to look about -for some occupation for their son more fitting than the hard drudgery -of a farm. The eagerness with which he devoted himself to the study of -such books as could then be secured; his schemes for obtaining volumes -considered by his parents, until then, wholly beyond their reach; his -poems and essays, learned in the hayfield, and written out after the -day’s work was done, all confirmed them in the feeling that it was their -duty to give up his assistance on the homestead, and permit him to follow -the leading of his genius. It was with no little anxiety that they sent -him “away to school”; for they felt then that they might not have their -son, as a companion, at home again. Mr. Gause then taught an excellent -high school at West Chester, the county seat, and to that they sent him -for a short time. One of his classmates at that school, now residing in -Baltimore, says he remembers distinctly how awkward and rustic Bayard -appeared when he first entered the school, and how radical and rapid -was the change from the ploughboy to the student. He became a universal -favorite, and was so able to teach, and so ready to help, that he had -a large number of scholars following him about half the time, for the -purpose of getting assistance at their lessons. Yet he found much time to -read other books than those containing his studies, and as in a village -of the size of West Chester, there were some small libraries, his desire -for reading could be gratified. Geography was his favorite study, and, in -the pursuit of information, he sought out and read so many books relating -to the places mentioned in the text-book, that his classmates used to -say that “Bayard knows all about his geography without even reading his -lessons over.” - -He was soon well acquainted with the history of the world, and had the -most interesting events connected with the wars of Europe fresh in his -mind. He read about Edinburgh, London, Paris, Berlin, and Dresden; of -William the Conqueror, Peter the Great, Charlemagne, and Mahomet; of the -adventures of the Crusaders, of the wars of the Roses, the Thirty Years’ -War, and Napoleon’s campaigns; and, with each volume, built higher -those castles in the air, which many youths construct on the excitement -of such themes. It seems astonishing how a boy of fourteen years could -appreciate so much of the books he read, when we recall the dulness and -dryness which characterized almost every history then extant, and the -exceedingly difficult subjects of which they treated. He read, one day, -for a few minutes, in Unionville, in 1839, from a book that lay on the -mantel-shelf, and although the subject was that of art and the beauty of -Raphael’s Madonna and child, he understood it so well, and remembered -it so clearly, that, in 1845, when at Dresden, where the picture was -exhibited, he was able to recall the words of that description, and the -name of the writer. - -The circumstances in which his parents were placed, made it impossible -for them to support him long at school, neither was he inclined to be -a charge upon them. He desired to be able to earn money for himself, -both to relieve his parents of the expense, and to furnish means for -purchasing books. He was a bold youth. He seemed to fear nothing. He had -a sublime faith in his own success, which was not egotism nor pride, but -an inspiration. Very often, when he had read a book, he would sit down -and write to the author; which fact was not, in itself, so astonishing -as the fact that he wrote letters so bright and sensible, that in nearly -every case he obtained a courteous, and often a lengthy reply. In this -way, he made the acquaintance of many men well known in the literary -circles of America, several of whom were of great assistance to him a few -years after. When he was but ten years old, and still on the old farm, he -read “Pencillings by the Way,” which was a narrative of foreign travel, -written by Nathaniel P. Willis, and published in the New York “Mirror,” -of which Mr. Willis was then an associate editor. - -Young Bayard soon after entered into a correspondence with Mr. Willis -on literary matters, and continued the interchange of letters until the -death of Mr. Willis, in 1867. In the same manner young Bayard secured -the attention, advice, and assistance of Rufus W. Griswold, who edited -the “New World” and the “New Yorker,” and who, in 1842 and 1843, edited -“Graham’s Magazine,” in Philadelphia. Dr. Griswold was also a poet, -and in fact had been in every branch of literary work, from writing -items in Boston for a weekly paper, through type-setting, reporting, -and compiling, to writing sermons as a Baptist minister. He had led a -wandering life, had seen much of the world, and was well acquainted, -as an editor and reviewer, with all the best works of history, travel, -and poetry. From him Bayard received much sensible advice and much -encouragement. To him Bayard sent some of his earliest poems, and thus -secured their publication. - -It is probable that Bayard became acquainted with Henry S. Evans, editor -of the West Chester “Village Record,” through some of his poetical -contributions to that paper. However that may be, he sought the office -of that paper for an opportunity to learn the printer’s trade, when it -had been decided by his parents to let him go. The “Village Record” -had long been a respected and favorite journal for that county, and -had, under the editorial management of Hon. Charles Miner, been the -intellectual training-school of many influential and noted men. Mr. Evans -was conducting the paper with much ability, and it was then usually -considered a great opportunity for any young man if an opening was found -for him in the office of that periodical. - -Yet Bayard did not like the work of a printer, and especially despised -the work which naturally fell to his lot as a new apprentice. He took -to sketching; and having added the instruction of a teacher, for a few -weeks, to a natural tact for drawing, he “illustrated” almost everything -within reach which had a smooth surface. He caricatured the printers and -editors, and brought out the worst features of his associates in horrible -cartoons. He sent to delinquent correspondents pictures of ink-bottles -and long quills. He sketched himself in the mirror, and sent the copy to -inquiring friends. Far too intent upon drawings, poetry, and travels to -make much progress as a printer, he became tired of the occupation and -longed to be free. There came to his hands some time before he entered -the printing-office, a small book, intended partly for home reading and -partly as a guide-book for European travellers, entitled “The Tourist in -Europe.” It was written by George P. Putnam, of New York, and told the -routes, and described the wonders to be seen, in a very fascinating way -to one like Bayard, whose imagination was already excited to the most -enthusiastic pitch. The boy appears to have studied that book with the -greatest and most persevering zeal. He used it for a plan of reading, -and taking it by course, borrowed books relating to the places mentioned -by Mr. Putnam, until one by one he had learned the history, occupation, -literary achievements, and habits of every city or town of note in the -whole of Europe. He made up his mind that he was going to Europe. Just -how or when was a mystery. But that he was going soon he had no doubt. -He spoke of his trip to England and Germany with the confidence of one -who has his ticket and letter of credit already in his pocket. Yet he -was a penniless boy, who had scarcely seen a ship, and who knew but a -few phrases outside of his native tongue. His friends laughed at him, -and gravely told his relatives that if Bayard did not curb his rambling -disposition he would become a beggar and a disgrace. Even that chosen -schoolmate, whose dark eyes and tresses held more influence over his -thoughts and movements than the world knew, or he himself would publicly -acknowledge, laughed incredulously as he told her of his projected -visits to the castles, towers, shrines, and battle-fields of Europe and -Asia. - -The months rolled heavily away, and his fingers wearied with the type, -and his heart became sad because of the long delay. He began to be -ashamed of his boasts, but patiently waited. For two years he studied, -planned, prophesied, yearned for a trip to Europe; having in the meantime -made a short and hazardous tramp to the Catskills, with money saved from -his clothing allowance as an apprentice. He ventured to write to some -ship-owners in Philadelphia, to ascertain if he could work his passage. -He often mentioned his proposed trip to his employer, and asked to be -released from his engagement and agreement as an apprentice. Mr. Evans -only smiled and said that Bayard need not trouble himself about that at -present; it would be all right when the time came for him to go. Thus, -with a conviction that he should certainly go, and yet heart-sick at the -delay, Bayard reached his nineteenth birthday. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - Visited by his Cousin.—Decides to go to Europe with his - Cousin.—Correspondence with Travellers.—Lack of Money.—Unshaken - Confidence.—Publication of Ximena. - - -Bayard had a cousin Frank, or Franklin, whom he held in great respect, -and whose subsequent life, as will be seen hereafter, justified the high -esteem in which Bayard held him. This young man, a few years older than -Bayard, had, by much patience and perseverance, succeeded in obtaining -sufficient money to support himself in an economical manner in Germany, -and had made up his mind to attend the lectures at the university in -Heidelberg. - -“Are you really going, Frank?” - -“Yes, Bayard, I am going sure.” - -“Then I am going with you.” - -“But, Bayard, how are you going to get the money to pay your expenses?” - -“I do not know where it is coming from, not even for my outfit, but I am -going with you.” - -Bayard had written to a great many people, of whom he had heard, asking -them about the expense and outfit for a tour in Europe. Some of them had -made the journey, and some had completed their preparations; but they -all placed the amount so high as to appear like a fabulous sum to the -poor apprentice. None placed the fare at less than five hundred dollars, -while some of the estimates were as high as eighteen hundred dollars. Of -course this poor boy could not earn nor borrow either of these amounts. -Yet he was confident that in some way he would be able to overcome the -difficulty. - -Dr. Griswold, of whom mention was made in the last chapter, had suggested -that it might be wise for Bayard to publish, in small book-form, his -sonnets and other poems, and sell them to friends and admirers; and -when he found that Frank was going, he determined to try that method of -raising a little money. He went to some of his old friends and neighbors -for assistance to print his little volume; but so little was their -faith in the boy they had known from his birth, that they told him they -would not encourage him in a scheme so absurd and impracticable. But -Bayard only became the more determined with each defeat. He renewed his -application to friends more distant, and, as is usually the case, he -found they had more confidence than those who looked upon him as the boy -they knew on the farm. From those distant friends, living in Philadelphia -and West Chester, he at last obtained such assistance as to be able to -print a few copies of his poems. He christened his first volume “Ximena, -and other Poems,” and finding many kindly disposed persons who would -like to help him to the small sum asked for the book, but who would -have been ashamed to present him with so diminutive an amount, he was -enabled to dispose of enough in a few days to pay his expenses and a -profit of twenty dollars. Acting upon the advice of Nathaniel P. Willis, -he applied to the editors of the various newspapers in Philadelphia for -employment as a travelling correspondent; but letters from Europe were -becoming stale, and correspondence was overdone, so that he was met with -discouraging refusals on every hand. Fortunately, some one suggested to -him the names of the “Saturday Evening Post,” and the “United States -Gazette.” He was, however, without hope of anything from them. He has -since said to his friends, that he then thought as he could not fare any -worse than he had done, it would do no harm to try again. His confidence -in his final success was so great, that he had made a settlement with -Mr. Evans, of the “Village Record,” and had left the employment of a -printer before he had found or thought of a way to secure funds for his -intended trip. He had no money, no outfit, no employment; and yet he was -sure he should go. In that condition, and in a state of mind bordering -on wonder, because the way which was to open had so long remained shut, -this thin, awkward youth walked confidently into the office of the -“Saturday Evening Post.” Mr. S. D. Patterson was then its editor, and, -while he was disposed to assist the young man, he did not have much -faith in his success as a correspondent. Mr. Patterson, however, gave -Bayard some encouragement, and the youth, with lighter step, went to the -office of the “United States Gazette.” Not finding Mr. J. R. Chandler at -his editorial room, Bayard went to the editor’s residence. Mr. Chandler -was sick in bed; but he was able to converse with Bayard, and received -him very pleasantly. The young man had never met Mr. Chandler before; -but he stated his cause with such frankness and clearness, and showed -such confidence in his final triumph, that Mr. Chandler took out his -pocket-book and gave Bayard fifty dollars, saying that if he sent any -letters of sufficient interest they would be inserted in the columns -of the “Gazette.” Mr. Chandler did not, at the time, care for letters -from Europe, and did not expect to publish any; but, acting from the -promptings of a generous heart, he freely gave the assistance desired. Of -Mr. Chandler’s honorable career, more will be said in another chapter. - -On returning to Mr. Patterson, Bayard found him willing to do as he -had proposed, and the sum of fifty dollars was added to the gift of -Mr. Chandler. Then, as if fortunes, like misfortunes, come not singly, -he found a customer for some manuscript poems in a friend of Dr. -Griswold,—George R. Graham. From him Bayard received twenty dollars, -making the round sum of one hundred and forty dollars with which to -begin his journey to the Old World. Bayard now felt independent and -happy. At least he could get across the Atlantic Ocean. He might have to -work as a compositor, or as a common laborer, or even beg for his bread -after he arrived on the other side; he did not know, and seemed to care -but little. He had encountered a hard fortune here, and conquered, and -he felt sure that he could do as well there. Happy, proud day was it -for him when he returned with the money to his home at Kennett Square. -Sad day for Mary Agnew. But as she and Bayard were only playmates and -schoolmates, she must not appear to be especially grieved. - -The next thing to be done was to obtain a passport from the United -States Government. It could only be obtained in Washington, and as they -could not afford the expense of the stages, Frank and Bayard started for -Washington on foot. It would seem as if such a journey of one hundred and -twenty miles,—in which they walked thirty miles to Port Deposit, thence -in a rickety tow-boat to Baltimore, and from that city to Washington, -they tramped all night without food or drink,—would have discouraged any -one from attempting to walk through the countries of Europe. For they -must have returned from this first walk footsore and lame in every joint. -Yet they came back as full of hope as when they started out, having seen -Mr. Calhoun, then Secretary of State, and many other celebrities then -inhabiting the capital city,—June, 1844. - -Oh! those farewells! To the parents who had watched over him so long, -it seemed like losing him forever, so far away and mythical did Europe -seem to be. Their lips consented, but their hearts kept rapping no, no, -no, in rebellious throbs. The brothers and sisters wept with a grief -never before so keen, and a dread never before so deep. But to the -youth, before whom the great unexplored world lay in its beauty, and who -could not then realize, as he did so keenly afterwards, that in all the -world he would find no spot so sweet and interesting to him as would be -the one he was leaving, it was a joy over which the sadness of parting -for a time was but as the shadow of a cloud on the summer sea. High -hopes, great aspirations, drove him along, while romantic castles and -fortresses, brilliant rivers, heavenly gardens, majestic mountains, wise -people, delightful music, gorgeous galleries of art, and indescribable -landscapes, beckoned him to come. Giddy with anticipation, trembling with -conflicting emotions, he stood in the shade of the oak and the hickory -of the old home that morning, bidding his loved ones good-by. He was a -hero. There was the sense of present loss, and of danger to come; but it -weighed not with him as against the great ambition of his life. - -Did he bid Mary Agnew farewell? Perhaps! The mature poet will tell us, in -his own sweet way, by and by. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - The Contest with Enemies.—Departure from - Philadelphia.—Friendship of N. P. Willis.—Discouraging - Reception.—Interview with Horace Greeley.—Searching for a - Vessel.—Steerage Passage for Liverpool.—Fellow Passengers.—The - Voyage.—The Beauty of the Sea.—Landing at Liverpool. - - - “How rosed with morn, how angel innocent, - Thus looking back, I see my lightsome youth! - Each thought a wondrous bounty Heaven had lent, - And each illusion was a radiant truth! - Each sorrow dead bequeathed a young desire, - Each hovering doubt, or cloud of discontent, - So interfused with Faith’s pervading fire, - That to achieve seemed light as to aspire!” - - —_Taylor._ - -Bayard was not an exception to the universal rule, found true by nearly -every scholar, and every successful statesman. He was ridiculed by a -thoughtless throng. His success in the matters he undertook subjected -him to the slights and backbiting of envious simpletons, and everywhere -the looks and shrugs of his acquaintances told with what contempt they -looked upon his endeavors to be a poet, and to see the world. It was the -same old trial, and only those young men who, like Bayard, are able to -stand firm against ridicule and envy, ever reach the acropolis of their -ambition. No record has been found of the effect these things had upon -Bayard, or upon the two noble young men who were his companions; but -we do know that they turned not from their purpose. Bayard’s sensitive -nature, his warm heart, his innocent ambition must have felt the stings, -and, at times in after life, he spoke as one who had not forgotten. -How grand and honorable the exceptional appearance of the few who were -generous and faithful to the poor boy on the threshold of his life! - -Taking with them only such baggage as they could carry in their hands, -these three young men,—Bayard Taylor, Franklin Taylor, and Barclay -Pennock.—started for New York the last week in June, 1844. There had -been but little delay, notwithstanding the day for departure had been -set before Bayard knew where the funds were to come from to defray his -expenses. - -There was a strong hope in Bayard’s mind that Mr. N. P. Willis, who had -written him such encouraging letters, would be able to assist him in -securing employment as a travelling correspondent of some of the New -York daily papers. Mr. Willis was widely known, and greatly respected -in New York, and, on the arrival of Bayard at his office, he entered -heartily into the work of procuring such a situation for his young -friend. But foreign correspondence had been as much overdone in New -York as in Philadelphia. So many writers had tried to make a name by -imitating the first successful correspondents, that the people were weary -with the monotonous story. It was as well known then as it is now, that -copyists and imitators are not what a live, active, original newspaper -requires. Correspondence from almost anywhere could be made interesting -and amusing, if the writer would only write naturally, and describe the -things he saw in just the light they appeared to him. No one thought -that this boy would do anything else but follow in the old track. Hence -they wished for none of his writings. One gentleman told him that it was -useless to make engagements, for a youth, going into a strange country -in that hap-hazard way, would not live to write any letters. Mr. Willis’ -generous assistance availed Bayard nothing with a people who had so often -been compelled to form their own opinion of the people they wished to -employ, and who considered themselves the best judges. - -In the editorial room of the New York “Tribune” sat the editor, whose -name is being written higher, on the list of America’s great men, by -every succeeding year. To his quick eye, there was promise of noble -things in the countenance of the boy. He had himself been a venturesome, -ambitious, penniless boy, and, like Bayard, he had boldly pushed his boat -into the dangerous billows. He may have remembered Benjamin Franklin’s -hazardous trip, as a boy, to Philadelphia, for Bayard was mentioned -by Mr. Willis as a young man from the Quaker city. Whatever may have -been his thoughts, he treated Bayard with his usual consideration, and -informed the youth that he was ready to publish and pay for all letters -that were worth inserting in the “Tribune.” But he solemnly warned Bayard -against attempting to write anything until he knew enough about the -country to write intelligently. Bayard told Mr. Greeley that he would -try to get acquainted with the people of Germany and their institutions, -and, as soon as he felt competent, would send a few letters for Mr. -Greeley’s criticism. The busy editor nodded as the boy thanked him, bade -him good-day, and, doubtless, instantly forgot there had ever been such a -visitor; and left the fact in oblivion, until it was brought to mind some -months afterwards by the arrival of a letter from Germany. - -Mr. Willis told Bayard, as he said afterwards, to keep up his courage, -and go forward: “The way to Valhalla is broad and smooth to the hero, -but narrow and dangerous to the coward.” It appears by the brief account -which is given in the introduction to his “Views Afoot,” published by -Putnam & Sons, New York, that the party had a difficult task to find -a vessel in which the accommodations, rates of passage, and port of -destination were within their plan. They intended at first to take a -vessel direct for the Continent; but in such of them as were bound for -continental ports, the fare was too high. They were, however, on the -point of taking passage in a Dutch sailing vessel, the consignees of -which were acquaintances of Mr. Willis, and consequently made some -reduction in the fares, when an opportunity offered itself for a steerage -passage in a vessel bound for Liverpool. In that way, they would be -conveyed to England for the sum of twenty-four dollars. But such a -passage! Think of it, ye disconsolate, fault-finding tourists, who lie in -the soft beds of a steamer, with fresh air and plenty of light! Think of -it, ye sufferers that occupy the great forward hall of a steamship, and -who curse your fate that you are compelled to take a steerage passage! -What would you do or say should you be crowded into a cabin of rough -planks, eight feet long, and seven feet wide, with nine passengers and -eight narrow berths, in a clumsy, dirty little sailing vessel? Yet -this was the young adventurer’s choice, rather than expend the small -sum of twenty-five dollars from his small store. These three boys were -compelled, by the terms of passage, to furnish their own provisions and -bedding, and the fact that the unexpected honesty and kindness of a -warehouse clerk prevented their starting off without enough food to last -through the voyage, is another proof that “fortune favors the brave.” - -As there was one more adult passenger in the steerage than there were -berths, Bayard and his cousin Frank good-naturedly agreed to occupy one -together. To the writer, who has frequently crossed the treacherous -Atlantic, there seems to be no experience so inconceivably miserable -and sickening as a steerage passage in a sailing vessel must be to -the landsman. But when to the usual discomforts of dampness, darkness, -sea-sickness, and strange company, are added the cramps caused by being -packed with another passenger like a sandwich into a narrow box, and -the absence of fresh air, no tortures of the Inquisition would seem to -equal it. Bayard often referred to his first discouraging sensation of -sea-sickness. Coming, as it always does to the passenger, just as he is -taking his last sad look at the fading shores of his native country, it -is always a disheartening experience. Bayard shed tears as he began to -realize that he was actually afloat upon the wide ocean, and could not if -he would return to the land. He has since well said, that had he known -more of life, and the dangers of travel, his alarm and discouragement -would have been much greater than they were, and of longer duration. -Youth borrows no trouble; hence it is happy and victorious. - -Of that voyage, and its sufferings, in the ship “Oxford,” beginning on -the first day of July, and ending at Liverpool on the twenty-ninth of the -same month, he made but brief mention; yet his experience in getting the -ship’s cook to boil their potatoes, in eating their meals of pilot-bread, -and in the company of their English, Scotch, Irish, and German -cabin-mates, was most charmingly told in his letters to the “Gazette” -and to the “Post,” as well as in “Views Afoot,” to which reference has -already been made. His German companion was not only a social advantage, -but furnished the adventurous youths with a pleasant opportunity to get -some of the German phrases, and to hear descriptions of the country they -were to visit. They were also favored by the captain’s permission to use -books from the cabin library, which contained several entertaining books -of travel and of fiction. The closing days of the voyage appear to have -been pleasant in some respects, for the beauty of the sea made a lasting -impression upon his mind, and might possibly have been still in his -memory when he wrote the lines in his “Poems of Home and Travel,” running -thus:— - - “The sea is a jovial comrade, - He laughs wherever he goes; - His merriment shines in the dimpling lines - That-wrinkle his hale repose: - He lays himself down at the feet of the Sun, - And shakes all over with glee, - And the broad-backed billows fall faint on the shore - In the mirth of the mighty Sea.” - -It may be that the beauty and joy of the sea appeared more remarkable -because of the great contrast between its free and wild life, and the -crowded and stifled existence of the mortals who witnessed its gambols. -At all events he was not so delighted with the sea that he could not -shout with the others, when the dark outlines of Ireland’s mountains -appeared through the mist. The sleepless nights, the company of howling -Iowa Indians, the musty cabin, the terrible nausea—all were forgotten -in the sight of land, and as the goal grew nearer, the more like a dream -became all the disagreeable experiences of the voyage, until when, after -tacking from northern Ireland to Scotland, from Scotland to Ireland, and -from Ireland to the Isle of Man, they sailed up the Mersey to Liverpool, -the inconveniences of the voyage had wholly faded out, and only the few -agreeable incidents remained a reality. They passed the dreaded officials -of the custom-house without difficulty, and by the advice of a “wild -Englishman,” who was one of their travelling companions, they went to the -Chorley Tavern, and there enjoyed a bountiful dinner, as only passengers -by sea can enjoy them when first they step on shore. Bayard was impressed -by the sombre appearance of the city, and amused by the use of the middle -of the streets for sidewalks, and by the pink each man carried in his -buttonhole. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - Departure from Liverpool.—Travels Second-Class.—Arrival at - Port Rush.—The Giant’s Causeway.—Lost and in Danger.—Dunluce - Castle.—Effect upon the Travellers.—Condition of the - Irish.—Arrival at Dumbarton.—Scaling the Castle Walls.—Walk - to Loch Lomond.—Ascent of Ben Lomond.—Loch Katrine.—Visit to - Stirling. - - -Bayard and his companions, including the German student, with whom there -had sprung up an intimate friendship, left Liverpool on the same day on -which they arrived there, having found that they would reach Scotland -_via_ the Giant’s Causeway, as soon as they could by waiting for the more -direct line. With an exercise of common-sense, such as characterizes -too few Americans in this day of fashionable travel, they took passage -second-class, finding themselves in no way the worse for the temporary -inconvenience, while their fare was but one-sixth the amount of a -first-class passage. It was not a comfortable night’s voyage on the way -from Liverpool to Port Rush, in the north of Ireland, starting at ten -o’clock in the evening, and arriving at eleven o’clock the next night. It -may be that the cold and wet, the crowd of Irish passengers, the unvaried -diet of bread and cheese, served the purpose of making the shores and -bluffs more attractive, as the mind naturally seeks and usually obtains -some comfort and recreation in the most doleful surroundings. It is -a glorious thing to look upon those basaltic hexagons of the Giant’s -Causeway, under any circumstances. Those enormous natural columns, set -side by side, so close as to make a floor along their tops, so strange, -so unaccountably symmetrical, fill the soul with awe, and half persuade -the least credulous beholder that there were giants in the days of yore, -and that they really did build a thoroughfare of these huge prisms -across to Scotland. Any traveller contemplates those matchless piles -with surprise, and every sojourner is delighted beyond estimation by -the contour and echoes of the vast caverns, into which the ocean rolls -with such enchanting combinations of sound and motion. But to young men -who had seen but little of the world and its natural wonders, and who -had suffered a kind of martyrdom for the sake of visiting them, those -resounding caverns, and those mighty ruins of gigantic natural temples, -must have been inspiring beyond measure. Every traveller recalls with the -most clear and grateful remembrance, the first landscapes of Europe, on -which rest his ocean-weary eyes. To these young men the landscapes were -about their only joy, and they appreciated them accordingly. Bayard seems -to have been very enthusiastic. He scrutinized everything and questioned -everybody. He let nothing pass him unnoticed, although in his books he -left much unmentioned. He clambered into the lofty recesses of the -Causeway, and let himself down into the strange niches. He halloed in -the caves for the thundering echoes; he drank three times at the magical -Giant’s Well. He strayed from the highway that led from Port Rush to -the Causeway, to look into the weird nooks which the sea has carved in -the mutable shore. Dunluce Castle, with its broken walls and ghastly -towers—home of proud Lord Antrim—and home as well of that family’s -terrible banshee, was the first old ruin which Bayard visited. It stands -on the verge of the cragged cliffs, with the sea beating about its base, -and bellowing in the cavern under it. It is located near the highway -which leads from Port Rush to the Causeway. Across the narrow footway, -and into these ruins, Bayard rushed most eagerly. The same old man who -now shows travellers the battlements, and tells to wondering hundreds the -tales of tournament and banqueting-hall, was there then, and rehearsed -the tale to him. The boy is gone. But the old man, whom Bayard mentions -as an old man then, lives on in his dull routine, yet living less in a -half century than Bayard lived in a single year. - -All this was fresh and glorious to the youth, and gave him a very -pleasant foretaste of the rich experiences in store for him. But, as -if the fates conspired to chill his intellectual joys with physical -discomforts, a rain came pouring upon them as they returned, the wind -blew in fierce gusts, darkness, deep and black, settled upon the land; -they lost their way, and floundered about in muddy ravines, and barely -escaped destruction as they trod the edges of the precipices above the -wildest of seas. They became separated from each other, and the howling -of winds and waves among the crags was so hideous that they could not for -a long time hear each other’s call, and the worst of fears for each other -were added to their own dismay. But they somehow blundered upon the path -as it emerged from the wild rocks, and together walked the beach to their -hotel, soaking and half frozen. But all those trying experiences fade -when the skin is dry, and the sweet sleep of healthy youth comes with -its comforting oblivion; only the gorgeous landscapes, and the romantic -places, like the memories of boyhood, remain to shape the dreams. - -Bayard was shocked by the miserable condition of the Irish peasantry, -and his description of their huts, and their appearance, given in his -letters, shows great sympathy for their distress, and great disgust -at their degraded customs. On his way to Greenock from Port Rush, he -fell in with a company of them, who chanced to take the same steamer, -and he did not enjoy their drunken and beastly songs and riots. But -on his trip from Greenock, up the Clyde to Dumbarton, he had more -acceptable companionship, and in his book he refers, with a most touching -simplicity, to the music of a strolling musician on board the boat, who -played “Hail Columbia” and “Home, Sweet Home.” - -Old Scotland! Noble old hills! Charming lakes, and enchanting valleys! -How like the awakened memories of loved faces, they come back to us -when we hear the word “Dumbarton”! What exciting tales of Baliol, of -Wallace, of Bruce, of Queen Mary, of Cromwell, come again as we recall -the sugar-loaf rock, on which the remnant of the old fortress stands! -Those bright youths must have feasted on the associations connected with -Dumbarton. As they peered from Wallace’s tower, handled Wallace’s sword, -and gazed over the wide landscape, with the sites of battle-fields, -castles, palaces, the home of Bruce, the cottage of Wallace, the -beautiful valleys of the Clyde and Leven, the majestic Ben Lomond, -and the crests of the Highlands, they grew in intellectual stature, -and breathed a moral atmosphere as pure as the air that encircled the -flagstaff at the summit. There is no education like the actual contact -with the scenes connected with heroic self-sacrifice, to train young -men for patriots and poets. No discipline is more necessary to the -development of a broad and virtuous manhood among any class of young men, -than studious travel in foreign countries. To young Bayard, lacking other -culture than the few years at the district school, the few months at the -academy, and the studious perusal of histories and poems, this experience -was of vast importance. Its beneficial effects were seen throughout his -life, and frequently show themselves in his editorials, poems, novels, -and narratives. - -At Dumbarton, Bayard had his first narrow escape, and he said that when -he reached the ground, after daring to scale, for flowers, the precipice -up which Wallace climbed with his followers for glory and fatherland, he -was in such a tremor of terror, in view of his having so narrowly escaped -death, that he could scarcely speak. The unusual strength of a little -tuft of wild grass, growing in a crevice of the cliff, had saved him from -being dashed to pieces. It must have given him a very vivid impression of -the daring feats of those old Scotch warriors, who not only faced these -perpendicular walls, but fearlessly encountered the foes at the top. - -From Dumbarton, Bayard and his friends walked through the valley of the -River Leven to Loch Lomond. All his letters and contributions to the -newspapers speak of this walk as one of the most enjoyable of all his -rambles. In his “Views Afoot,” with which every reader is or should -be familiar, he mentions it as a glorious walk. The pastoral beauty -of the fields, the clearness of the stream, the ivy-grown towers, the -dense forests, the early home of Smollett, whose dashing pen astonished -the kingdom in 1748, the summer parks of Scottish noblemen, the mild, -soothing August sunshine, were a combination rarely found, and when found -as rarely appreciated. - -These young travellers had been diligent readers, and, when the steamer -hurried them over the lake, the appearance of Ben Lomond and Ben -Voirlich, of “Bull’s Rock,” and Rob Roy’s Cave, of Inversnaid and Glen -Falloch, called up the shades of the Campbells, Macgregors, Malcolms, -Rothesays, Macfarlanes, Macphersons; making each beach and rock along -Loch Lomond a feature of romantic interest. - -With youthful enthusiasm, Bayard clambered to the rugged top of Ben -Lomond, having waded through deep morass and thorny thicket, to reach it, -and, from that lookout, gazed around on the peaks of lesser mountains, -down upon the sweet Lomond lake, away to the oceans on either side of -Scotland, discerning the smoke over Glasgow, the dark plains of Ayr, and, -but for a mist, the embattled towers of Stirling and Edinburgh. After a -short stop, he descended with his old companions, and a new one (he was -constantly finding new friends), along the slippery, stony slopes; and, -after a dinner of oatmeal cakes and milk at a cottage near the base, -trudged and waded on through that wild tract of woodland and swamp to -Loch Katrine. There was the home of poetry. The great forests, through -which the Clan-Alpine horns had echoed, the dense forest, through which -the scarfs and bows did gleam in the old days of the Highland clans, -had disappeared. The blossoming heather and bare rocks made a sorry -substitute. But to Bayard, whose life was set to poetry, who had so often -studied and declaimed of Fitz-James and Roderick Dhu, and who had often -dreamed of the Ellen’s Isle, and the gathering clans, as Walter Scott -described them, it must have been an enchanted spot. One may recite and -analyze for half a century that poem, and may flatter himself that he has -detected all its beauty, and understands all its historic references; but -one hour on Loch Katrine is worth more than all that. There the reader -_lives_ the poem, and it is a part of his being ever more. Bayard felt -compensated there for all the sufferings, by sea and by land, which he -had experienced. He gazed fondly upon the glassy, land-locked water; he -studied closely the features, manners, and songs of the Highland boatmen, -those descendants of the old clans; he sketched, with the keenest -interest, Ben Ann, Ben Venue, the gate of the Trosachs, and the curved -lines of the sandy shore, and he awoke the echoes at the Goblin’s Gave -and Beal-nam-bo. Rich experiences! In such does the youth develop fast -into a cultured manhood. - -From Loch Katrine, the party walked by way of Loch Vennachar, Coilantogle -Ford, and Ben Ledi, to Doune,—the home of royalty during the sixteenth -century, and whose old castle is still a majestic ruin. Thence through -the plains to Stirling Castle, crowned and battle-honored, and looking -down on the valleys of the Forth and Allan Water, and out upon the -bloody fields of Bannockburn and Sheriff-muir. Having inspected the -dungeons and halls of the castle, looked with horror upon the spot where -royalty murdered a friend, and threw the body to the dogs; and after -contemplating the grave of the girlish martyrs, they hastily took the -shortest route to Glasgow, and thence to the home of Burns, where a -great celebration, or memorial gathering, was to be held, to honor the -memory of the “rustic bard,” on the banks of his own “Bonnie Doon.” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - Visit to the Home of Burns.—The Poet’s Cottage.—The - Celebration.—Walks and Rides in the Rain.—Edinburgh.—Its - Associations.—The Teachings of History.—Home - of Drummond.—Abbotsford.—Melrose.—Jedburgh - Abbey.—Newcastle-on-Tyne. - - -Bayard’s visit to Ayr was the first of a long series of like visitations -to the homes of celebrated poets, and being then a novel experience -was doubly enjoyed. It may be that the similar occupation, and like -inspiration, which characterized both himself and Burns, made the spot -more attractive. Had they not both followed the plough through the thick -sward? Had not both milked the cows; drove the horses to the water; -planted the corn; dug up the weeds; cut the hay, and all the while sang -and recited original verses? Had he not been ridiculed by his playmates, -and sneered at by his neighbors, in common with that great poet of -Scotland? To look over the farm on which Burns toiled; to be shown the -spot on which it is claimed Burns overturned— - - “That wee bit heap o’ leaves and stibble,” - -the home of the “mousie,” and to be shown the cottage he was born in, -and the scenes which inspired his songs, interesting as they are to -the writer of prose, must have been peculiarly satisfactory to him. He -does not speak of it, however, with the enthusiasm one would expect, -and it is quite probable that he was not yet wholly inured to the -inconveniences of a wet climate, and could not think or muse in a crowd -as satisfactorily as when dry and alone. When he arrived in the town, -the streets were filled by an immense throng, and there could have -been little satisfaction in trying to fall into poetical dreams. It is -a great satisfaction to those of Bayard’s friends who have loved him, -and put their faith in him, to know that he put himself on record in -some of his early letters, in no light terms, as having an unutterable -disgust for the drunken brawling which went on in the name of Burns -that day in Ayr. He felt, with great keenness, the disgrace which every -American feels that it is to Scotland, that the old cottage, so sacred -for its associations as the birthplace of Burns, should be occupied as -a drinking-saloon, and be crowded with intoxicated vagabonds. It seemed -like making a dog-kennel of a chapel in St. Paul’s. Anything but genius, -intellect, or wit characterizes the crowd that usually frequent Burns’ -Cottage on such days; and it is said to have been, in 1844, the resort of -a more beastly class than are those wretches who get intoxicated there -now, and, naturally, on such a great day as that on which Bayard visited -it, every Scotsman who indulged at all became furiously drunk. Besides -that inconvenience, the trustees of the monument, on the day when so -many thousands came to see it and its treasures, voted to lock it up; and -Bayard, with the others, was shut out from its interesting collection of -relics and mementoes. Still further, it was so arranged by the marshals -of the occasion, that the grand stand, with its literary feast and the -ceremonies appurtenant to the occasion, were shut out from the populace -to whom the poet sang, and Bayard being only a strange boy, with no -more of a title than Robert Burns had, was obliged to content himself -with a seat on the ridge of the “brig o’ Doon.” He did see old Alloway -kirk, and heard its bell. He saw within its ruined walls the rank weeds, -and without, the graves of the poet’s ancestry. He did have a cheerful -pedestrian tour; for the home of Burns, with Alloway kirk and the bonnie -Doon, are three miles from the city of Ayr in open country. He saw the -sister and sons of the poet. He heard the assembled thousands sing, “Ye -banks and braes’ o’ bonnie Doon.” He saw a grandson of Tam O’Shanter. He -had to walk the three miles, returning through mud and rain, and he had -to stand in an open car, exposed to a driving rain-storm, throughout the -two hours’ ride by railroad to Glasgow. How different his reception then, -as a boy and unknown, from that which he received in his riper age, after -his fame was secured, at the home of Germany’s greatest poet. - -We follow Bayard in his first tour in Europe with greater detail than we -shall do with other journeys, because in this he developed so much of -that character which made him famous. History being written, not for the -dead, but for the instruction and encouragement of the living, should -show clearly how a great life was attained, as a guide for similar genius -in the days to come. In a volume of hasty sketches like this, we cannot -hope to do the work as thoroughly as we should so much love to do it; but -as far as can be done at this early day, we give those events which had -the greatest effect upon his life as a writer of prose and poetry. - -He must have feasted in Edinburgh. Richest storehouse in Scotland, for -all such as follow letters! There was the monument to Scott, suggestive -of the most beautiful in art, but so insignificant as a reminder of him, -while the walls of Salisbury Crags, and the dome of Arthur’s Seat, frown -beyond and above it. There was Holyrood Palace, with its stains of blood, -the couch of the beautiful queen, and the collections of historical -relics. No place but the Tower of London has received such attention -from gifted and famous literary men. Historians, poets, philosophers, -educators, preachers, and lawyers have written and discoursed upon it. -There was Calton Hill, with its monuments to great men. There was the -great University, and there was the old Castle, that sat like a crown on -the head of the city. All had been described by the most facile pens. All -were full of living interest, and when Bayard tried to describe them, -he found himself attempting to compete with the greatest essayists -of the English-speaking world. The Grass Market, where Porteous was -executed; Cowgate Street, with its aristocratic associations; St. Giles’ -Church, with its memories of John Knox and the Heart of Mid-Lothian, -were described by him, about which it is a kind of literary sacrilege to -speak in other than classic language. It was a school that included every -other, and Bayard was an apt and diligent scholar. - -A short distance from Edinburgh, the pedestrians saw the birthplace -and hermitage of Drummond. It is a delightful, sequestered chateau, -called “Hawthornden,” and in it the poet wrote nearly all his elegant -sonnets, and it was there that old Ben Jonson, after a walk from London, -was entertained by Drummond, and Drummond was in turn entertained by -Jonson. Going by the way of Galashiels and Selkirk, the party visited -Abbotsford and its environs, where the immortal Scott lived and wrote. -In the beautiful mansion which Scott built, and in which he wrote his -most popular works, they read his manuscripts; sat at his desk; wandered -in his gardens; gazed intently over the wide lawn and the distant Tweed; -scrutinized the enormous variety of relics which had been collected by -that antiquarian, to whom kings and queens were glad to become tributary. -Thence they walked along the hard and smooth highway to old Melrose. - -Ruins they would see in the near England, and on the distant continent, -which would enclose a dozen abbeys such as this; Gothic arches they -would enter which would make those of Melrose seem as a toy; and ivy and -carving and chancels would be noticed, so much more rich and beautiful, -that these would suffer sadly if put in comparison. But nowhere else in -all the wide world would they find a locality made more interesting than -this. The associations are almost everything. And to the initiated, the -great magician, Scott, still speaks in the groined arches, flowering -pillars, old clock, and willow-like windows. Melrose Abbey is a marked -illustration of the power of a master-mind to give influence, life, and -interest to inanimate things. Bayard felt this truth and mentioned it. -He read “The Lay of the Last Minstrel” in the shadow of the arches, and -imagined how the ruins glowed when the grave of the wizard opened and the -book was revealed. Who knows but it was there, in the presence of those -stirring associations, that he first conceived the plan which led him -to make classic in poetry and fiction the fields, hills, and Quakers of -his native county. Had he lived ten years longer than he did, his loved -Kennett might have been as classic in song and story as Abbotsford itself. - -From Melrose the young pedestrians walked to Jedburgh, omitting the -delightful excursion to Dryburgh, but passing the home of Pringle, who -had been the founder of “Blackwood’s Magazine,” and who had been also -a poet and wanderer like Bayard. While passing the Cheviot Hills, the -party met an excursionist in a carriage, fast asleep, which appeared to -amuse Bayard very much. Probably he afterwards saw more amusing scenes -than that, wherein travellers did not appreciate their privileges. The -writer, as late as the summer of 1878, saw an American who had worked -most industriously to lay up the funds to visit Switzerland, ride up the -entire ascent of the glorious Alps at St. Gothard, on the top of a coach, -fast asleep. Such marvels does the world of humanity contain. Bayard did -not sleep when anything of interest called upon him for investigation, -nor when the beauties of nature were to be enjoyed. They crossed the -border between Scotland and England, over the battle-fields of the -Percys, and by streams that were often, in days past, actually swollen -with blood. There, “Marmion,” with all its tales historical, and legends -mythical, was quoted and _lived_ as only the cultured traveller can live -it. There was instruction in every scene, every stranger, and every inn. -How well Bayard availed himself of their lessons, is illustrated in -all his excellent letters on foreign travel, and in his books compiled -from them. At Newcastle he noticed a group of miners begging in the -streets, and when he heard how they had struck for higher wages, because -they could not longer exist on the pittance allowed them, and how they -and their families were turned out upon the streets to starve, his -indignation was very great, and in his book he utters a prophecy that -soon that murmur from the oppressed people would increase to a roar, and -be heard “by the dull ears of power.” From Newcastle he went by boat to -London, reaching that city in the early morning near the end of August. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - Visit in London.—Exhibition of Relics.—The Lessons of - Travel.—Historical Association.—London to Ostend.—The Cathedral - at Aix-la-Chapelle.—The Great Cathedral at Cologne.—Voyage up - the Rhine.—Longfellow’s “Hyperion.”—Visit to Frankfort.—Kind - Friends.—Reaches Heidelberg.—Climbing the Mountains. - - -London is a world in itself, as has often been written and, to such an -impressible mind as that of Bayard, was a place, replete with pleasure -and instruction. London instructs by two methods; one by agreeable, and -the other by disagreeable examples. Bayard was equally taught by both. -There was Westminster Abbey, with its numberless tombs of the talented -and noble; and there was the Tower of London, with its dungeons and -beheading blocks. There were the palatial residences of the West End, -and there the hovels and holes of the Wych Street district. There were -the great mercantile houses of Holborn and Regent Street, and there were -the gambling dens of Drury Lane. There were the magnificent galleries of -art, at the Museum, at the Palaces, at Westminster, and at Kensington; -and there were the dirty, slimy exhibitions of marred humanity along the -wharves of the Thames. There were the zoölogical wonders of the parks, -and there were the dog-shows, and cock-pits of the St. Giles Rookery. -There was the palace of the Queen, and there the Old Bailey. There was -the office of the “Thunderer” (Daily Times), and there were the attics -from whence flowed the vilest trash that man ever printed. There were -Hyde Park, Regent’s Park, St. James Park, and the broad squares; and -there were the filthy alleys and narrow lanes about London Bridge. There -were the Rothschilds, and there the poor Micawbers and deserted Nicholas -Nicklebys. The richest, the poorest, the best, the worst; the most -cultivated, and the most ignorant; the most powerful monarch, and the -most degraded fishmongers. Extremes! Extremes that meet in everything -there. They all instruct by teaching the beholder what he ought to be, -and what he ought not to be. One sees much in London that ought not -to have been; and, strange to relate, many of the relics connected -with such things, are exhibited with great pride. If there is any one -thing above all others, for which the American should be thankful, it -is for the fact that the dungeon, the rack, the wheel, the thumbscrew, -the guillotine, the gibbet, the headsman’s block, the deadly hates of -royalty, the cruelty of kings, and the jealousy of queens, have no -place in the history of the Republic of the West. Yet there, somehow, -the officials and guides who open to the public the records of the past -and show visitors their institutions, give the most prominent places to -deeds of horrid cruelty and shameless murders, as if they took pride -in such fearful annals. It would seem as if, had our rulers butchered -in cold blood their sons and daughters; had they cruelly starved their -friends and relatives, we in America would be ashamed of it. It would be -regarded as very natural here, if an ancestor was hung and quartered and -his head carried about on a pole, to speak of it as seldom as possible. -It would appear consistent if, had our national government oppressed the -weak, degraded the poor, killed inoffensive captives, and, for selfish -ambition, laid waste the cities and fields of an innocent people, we -should attempt to bury the remembrance of those deeds so deep as to -make a resurrection impossible. But there, in Europe, they appear to -revel in the hideous doings of their ancestors, and will show you where -human heads or bands were exhibited, and where noble men and women were -persecuted to martyrdom, with the air of the circus manager who announces -the clown. Who can hear the guide on London Bridge, “Here was posted the -bleeding head of Sir William Wallace, the Scotch warrior and patriot, -while the quarters of his body were at Stirling, Berwick, Perth, and -Newcastle,” and not curse, with the deepest feeling, the people who -murdered one of the greatest and best of men? - -[Illustration: TOWER OF LONDON.] - -It is clear that these things made a strong impression upon Bayard, for -we find him more frequently and more decidedly praising his own land, as -he saw more and more of Europe. He saw, also, many of the advantages -which European nations enjoy in art, literature, and commerce, and -failed not to suggest them to his readers. But, unlike those shallow -tourists, who would ape European manners, and think all European -institutions should be at once imported here, his patriotic regard for -the institutions and people of his own land, increased with the desire -to benefit them. How reverently he speaks of George Washington; how -touchingly does he speak with the European peasants who accost him, of -the home of the free beyond the great ocean. - -A whole week those young men searched the great city for valuable -information. They slept and ate in the rudest of taverns, and tramped the -city with the workmen and the beggars, but they were gathering the forces -for a useful life. Bayard was filled with the sublimity of the mighty -human torrent that, like a tide, rolls into London in the morning, dashes -about the highways during the day, and surges outward at night. He felt -the grandeur of St. Paul’s, the conflicting and exciting associations -of Westminster, the marvellous feat of tunnelling under the Thames, the -enormous wealth of churches, monuments, halls, and galleries, and carried -away with him to the Continent a very complete idea of the institutions -and the queer customs of the great metropolis. - -From London, the party proceeded to Dover, and from thence to Ostend -and Bruges. They travelled in the cheapest manner, walking wherever -practicable, and going from Bruges to Ghent in a canal-boat, thence by -railroad across the border to Aix-la-Chapelle. Here was another treat. -The description which he gave in his letters of his visit to the old -Cathedral, where rest the remains of Charlemagne, was one of the most -vivid recitals to be found in the annals of travel. For some reason, he -so abridged it in his book, as to take away the finest and most original -delineations. Every reader of his first narration, who may never have -visited Aix-la-Chapelle, can in imagination see the old Cathedral, with -its shrines, its antique windows, and the shadows of saints on the -floor, and hear the sweet undulations of the organ’s solemn peal. While -to the traveller who follows him through those aisles, and under those -magnificent arches, his words give life and language to the pillars, -altars, and luminous decorations. To the least poetic or sentimental -of travellers, it is a solemn place; and if so to them, how deep and -impressive must it have been to a soul so full of emotion as that of -Bayard! There he wrote his well-known poem, “The Tomb of Charlemagne.” - -This grand old pile was succeeded next day by the great Gothic Cathedral, -at Cologne, which was not then finished, is not now completed, and will -never see the end of the mason’s labors, because the time taken in the -construction is so long that the very stone decays, and must be replaced -at the base by the time the delicate tracery of the towers is set on -those skyward heights. The structure must be constantly in process -of reconstruction, from the bottom, upwards. When Bayard looked upon -this wonderful building, which since 1248 had been in an uncompleted -state, two hundred and fifty years having been spent in active labor, -he said it impressed him most deeply, by way of comparison. Two hundred -and forty years before America was discovered, the foundations of that -church were laid, and here they are working on it still! By such lessons -is an American made to know his place in the history of the world. Had -the history of these old lands been less barbarous and cruel, we should -feel humble indeed. But in view of what the old folks have done, we may -be thankful that we are young, and have our record yet to write. But -the fact that we are not so old, so great, so artistic, or so cultured -as we have flattered ourselves, is wholesome information, and as taught -by these old Cathedrals of Europe, is very necessary to the success of -our young men. How deeply these things moved Bayard, is seen by the very -frequent mention we find in his writings, of aisle, or arch, or dome, or -spire. - -But one of the most attractive spots to that young voyager, in all his -wanderings in Europe, he saw while going up the Rhine, from Cologne to -Mayence. He viewed with satisfaction the vineyards and villages along -the banks; he was charmed with the crags and crumbling towers of the -innumerable old castles which ornament the tops of all the most prominent -hills and mountains. The walled cities, the legendary caves and grottos, -the most exquisite fables that account for the miraculous construction of -cliff, and convent, and crusaders’ halls, all came upon him as he glided -by them on the muddy river, as dreams come to the drinker of hashish. But -beyond all these in interest to our young wanderer, was the little walled -town of Boppart, whose feudal history is nearly lost, but whose romantic -connection with Longfellow’s “Hyperion,” has given it a fresh lease of -life. Bayard there recalled his life at home, and his days of anxious -waiting; for, had not this same “Hyperion,” with entrancing interest, -spurred on his hope to one day travel along the Rhine? Had not this same -“Hyperion” given the impulse that started his cousin on such a great -journey to the university at Heidelberg? And were not those houses in the -town of Boppart, and was not that cottage the very Inn of the “Star,” and -might not that woman, near the shore, be “Paul Flemming’s” boatwoman? Oh! -grand and revered Longfellow! when we note how many a life, like these, -has turned upon the reading of your inspired words, one feels as if to -have seen your face and heard your voice, and to have been beneath the -same roof, was an honor greater than kings could bestow! - -But Boppart, Lurlei Berg, Oberwisel, Bingen, and Geisenheim were soon -left behind, and Mayence, with its Cathedral six centuries old, its walls -and fortresses, welcomed them to its monotonous shades. - -A beautiful trait of Bayard’s character comes gracefully into view as we -read his grateful acknowledgments of the kindnesses he received. On his -first walk in his apprentice days, in Pennsylvania, having determined to -see some mountains, although he had to walk two hundred miles to view -them, he was kindly served at a well, on the way, by a farmer’s girl, -who cheerfully drew the bucket from the well and ran for a glass, that -he, a dusty, thirsty stranger, might drink without further fatigue; and -in his later years he records the fact in his book, with the sweetest -expressions of thankfulness. So when he arrived at Frankfort, and was -kindly received and entertained by Mr. Richard S. Willis, the American -consul, brother of Bayard’s old friend, Nathaniel P. Willis, he sits -down at once, and in his letters to his friends, and in his public -correspondence, he speaks of the generosity and thoughtfulness of his -old friend, and the hospitable and cultured characteristics of his -new friend. They were noble friends, who made for him a home at their -fireside in Frankfort, and deserve the thanks of every admirer of Bayard -Taylor. His thanks they had throughout a long life, and not only thanks, -but grateful deeds. - -It was Bayard’s purpose to go to Heidelberg, with his cousin, and give -himself to close study, at the University, or with private tutors; -but just how he was going to obtain the means to pay his expenses was -something of an enigma. It may be that his good fortune in the outset -made him too confident and careless in regard to other undertakings. -At all events, his stay in Heidelberg was much shorter than he had -at first intended that it should be, and his studies were much more -broken and superficial than his letters show he thought they would be. -He was not constituted for close, hard, metaphysical study, and made -but little attempts in that direction, after he arrived at Heidelberg. -He loved the grand old Castle better than the whittled benches of the -University. He enjoyed the Kaisersthul and the lesser mountains, far more -than the monotonous recital of German theories. The river Neckar called -him in its murmurs, the clouds beckoned to him as they flew over the -Heligen Berg, the wind called for him as it sighed around the vineyards -of Ziegelhausen, and all thoughts of private, quiet study fled at the -summons. So he climbed the mountains. It was always a passion with him -to gain an altitude as high as possible, and look out upon the world. He -tells how, when a boy, he ventured out of a chamber window in the old -farm-house at Kennett, and seeing a row of slats which the carpenters had -used for steps in ascending the roof, he sallied forth, and there astride -of the roof, gained his first view of a landscape. He said afterward, -that the roof appeared to be so high and the view so extensive, that he -imagined he could see Niagara Falls. Whether this inclination to climb up -came to him through the stories of his old Swiss nurse, whose bed-time -stories were of the mighty Alps and their towering cones, or whether it -was an hereditary trait in his nature, none may be able to decide. He was -certainly prone to go upwards, and had a tendency, for horizontal motion -equally as strong. He would not remain stationary; hence, at Heidelberg, -he inspected every nook and crevice of the picturesque old Castle, -crouched through its conduits, rapped its ponderous tun, scaled its -roofless and crumbling walls, rushed into the recesses of the adjacent -thickets, and tested the celebrated beer at the students’ resorts. He -joined excursion parties which visited the neighboring mountains, and -after he had been there a month, he knew the fields, rocks, trees, -valleys, dells, and peaks, as well as a native, and appears to have loved -them with a patriotic regard almost equal to the eldest burgher. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - Study in Frankfort.—Lack of Money.—Different Effect of - Want on Travellers.—Bayard’s Privations.—Again sets out on - Foot.—Visit to the Hartz Mountains.—The Brocken.—Scenes - in “Faust.”—Locality in Literature.—The Battle-field at - Leipsic.—Auerbach’s Cellar. - - -For the purposes of this work, an outline of Bayard’s travels is all that -can be attempted; except where some remarkable incident occurred that -had an unusual influence on his subsequent life. Leaving Heidelberg in -the latter part of October (1844), Bayard walked through the Odenwald to -Frankfort, where he could pursue his study of the German language, and -observe the customs and characteristics of the people to better advantage -and at a less expense. In attempting to see Europe on such a limited -allowance of money, he necessarily met with many inconveniences and -privations. His sufferings were at times most intense. He knew what it -was to fast for whole days; he felt the pains of blistered bare feet. He -was exposed to the severest storms of summer and winter; he was familiar -with the homes of beggary and the hard, swarming beds of third-class -taverns. He must have suffered beyond his own estimate, for, as he so -well says, the pains of travel are soon forgotten and the pleasures -vividly remembered. There was a youthful _abandon_ in his almost reckless -adventures which startles the reader of his tours. But yet the pains -he felt so keenly, the dangers he encountered so frequently, did not -seem to abate his enthusiasm for the great works and beautiful scenes -which Europe exhibits. To find ourselves in a strange city, where no one -speaks our native language; where it is not possible that any person can -know us or any of our friends; without money, or food, or work, is one -of the most disheartening situations that can be imagined. Yet such an -experience came often to Bayard. It would seem as if, on some occasions, -he ran into such difficulties needlessly and for very wantonness. Yet, -as was sometimes the experience of the writer, and from one of which -dangerous situations Mr. Taylor generously rescued him, there somehow -opens a way out from such ventures, which is found on the very verge -of starvation and despair. But the trait of character, which in Bayard -commanded such respect, was something so unusual, that his daring example -cannot be safely followed by the multitude. It is far better to have a -supply of money for the necessary expenses of travel in Europe or Asia, -than to run risks for the sake of the romance which Bayard found in such -straits. To many tourists, even the parks of Homburg, the castle of -Drachenfels, or the palace of the Vatican, would become insignificant -baubles before the stronger demands of the body for food and raiment. -But seldom did any fatigue or annoyance or loss, abate his wonderful -zeal in his search for the poetical, the strange, the historical, and -the beautiful. Some of his most exquisite descriptions of art or nature, -were written from notes made when his stomach was empty and his limbs -chilled with wet and cold. Such young men are few; and for one with less -perseverance, endurance, or genius to attempt such things on such a -scale, would be to meet with disheartening failure. - -Of his life in Frankfort, during the winter of 1845, he often speaks with -great satisfaction. He made excellent progress in the language, and in -that understanding of the habits of the people which Mr. Greeley had so -pointedly urged upon him as an ambitious aspirant for the favors of the -“Tribune.” He comes out of that study a matured thinker. His descriptions -assume a more thoughtful tone. His sympathies are more often awakened -for the people, and he sees as a man sees, and less juvenile are all -his undertakings and communications. He there acquired a love of German -poetry, and became acquainted with many of the noted men of Frankfort. He -visited the aged Mendelssohn, and tells with charming simplicity how he -was received by the composer of “St. Paul” and “Elijah.” Thus introduced -to German literature, art, and music, he entered again upon his travels -at the opening of spring, with new and increasing appreciativeness. - -Again, on foot, he went into the untried way of Europe. His first -attraction was for the Hartz Mountains, so intimately connected with -Goethe’s “Faust,” with which Bayard was already in love, and which he -afterwards translated in a masterly manner. So he went through Friedberg -and Giessen, into Hesse-Cassel, making the acquaintance of peasants and -merchants on his way, and moralizing upon the curious circumstance that -the descendants of the Hessians, who fought so doggedly at Brandywine, -should receive so hospitably the descendant of those who filled the -“plains of Trenton with the short Hessian graves.” Thence by Münden, -Göttingen and Osterode, enduring sickening fatigues and dangerous -exposure, he reached the Brocken mountain, where, through thickets, -rocks, chasms, snow and cold, he at last rested in a cottage at its -summit, amid the associations awakened by the weird tales of witches and -the superstitious explanations of that singular illusion,—the “Spectre -of the Brocken.” If he had any “wish” on that “Walpurgis night,” which -he passed on the highest mountain of the Hartz range, it was probably to -be relieved of the tortures which his weak frame endured, and from which -the physician had failed to relieve him. It would not be surprising if he -recited from “Faust” the words of scene IV.:— - - “Through some familiar tone, retrieving - My thoughts from torment, led me on, - And sweet, clear echoes came, deceiving - A faith bequeathed from childhood’s dawn, - Yet now I curse whate’er entices - And snares the soul with visions vain; - With dazzling cheats and dear devices - Confines it in this cave of pain! - Cursed be, at once, the high ambition. - Wherewith the mind itself deludes! - Cursed be the glare of apparition, - That on the finer sense intrudes.” - -We cannot forbear to add another quotation from the same Act, so -illustrative is it of Bayard’s note-taking life:— - - “No need to tell me twice to do it! - I think, how useful ’tis to write; - For what one has in black and white, - One carries home and then goes through it.” - -His visit to the Brocken was one of the most fascinating trips of his -whole pedestrian tour, notwithstanding his narrow escape from death in -the snow, and from destruction by falling into the partially concealed -caves that beset his way to the summit. He mentioned long afterward the -view he had from the summit-house, through the rifts in the clouds, of -the plains and cities of Germany. Thirty cities and several hundred -villages lay within sight, and all of them more or less closely -interwoven with the literature of Germany. The plains of Brunswick and -Magdeburg stretch away for seventy miles, with all the various shadings -of green intermingled with the sparkling silver of stream and lake. It is -a scene so grand that no pen could portray its sublimity and no tongue -accurately convey an idea of its varied beauty. With that romantic -persistency which no amount of fatigue overcame, Bayard descended the -mountain by that rugged and nerve-shaking path up which Faust was said to -have ascended with Mephistopheles (scene XXI. of Taylor’s translation) -who says:— - - “How sadly rises, incomplete and ruddy, - The moon’s lone disk, with its belated glow, - And lights so dimly, that, as one advances, - At every step one strikes a rock or tree! - Let us, then, use a Jack-o’-Lantern’s glances: - I see one yonder, burning merrily. - Ho, there! my friend! I’ll levy thine attendance: - Why waste so vainly thy resplendence? - Be kind enough to light us up the steep.” - -After which Faust, in a musing mood, looks down from the Brocken heights -and replies:— - - “How strangely glimmers through the hollows - A dreary light, like that of dawn! - Its exhalation tracks and follows - The deepest gorges, faint and wan. - Here steam, there rolling vapor sweepeth; - Here burns the glow through film and haze: - Now like a tender thread it creepeth, - Now like a fountain leaps and plays. - Here winds away, and in a hundred - Divided veins the valley braids: - There in a corner pressed and sundered, - Itself detaches, spreads and fades. - Here gush the sparkles incandescent - Like scattered showers of golden sand;— - But, see! in all their height at present, - The rocky ramparts blazing stand.” - -As Bayard leaped and stumbled down the rocky declivity into the narrow -gorge that there divides the mountains to give an outlet for the river -Bode, the very difficulties bound him closer to Goethe’s writings. He -felt again how important a thing it is in literature to connect it by -patriotic links with some actual landscape, and how much more vivid and -permanent are the lessons an author would teach when the reader visits -the mountains, plains, cities, buildings, and people mentioned in books -of classic worth. Thus learning and growing the young traveller plodded -on from inn to inn and village to village. - -Leipsic, which he reached a day or two after leaving the Brocken, was a -place of great interest to Bayard, as it is in fact to all travellers. -But the interest in any city or country visited by a tourist depends -so much upon his previous reading, and the taste and opportunities for -reading are so diverse, that it seldom happens that any two persons in -the same party enjoy the same scene with equal satisfaction. Bayard had -read of Leipsic and Dresden in his boyhood when other boys were catching -rabbits or playing ball, and as when he sees the great citadel at -Magdeburg which once held Baron Trenck a prisoner, so when at Leipsic he -looks over the field where Blucher and Schwartzenberg met Napoleon, he is -startled with the vividness of the pictures in his imagination. Hundreds -of thousands rushing to combat and scattering in retreat while smoke -rolls upward from hundreds of cannon and the streams are choked with -piles of bloody dead! - -There too was Auerbach’s Cellar, in which Goethe’s Faust and -Mephistopheles are so humorously placed. There was the same -drinking-saloon, there the descendant of the old bar-keeper, and -there the same characteristic crowd of loafers, as when Faust and -Mephistopheles drank there, and when amid songs and jokes, the latter -drew all kinds of wine from the gimlet holes in the leaf of the old -wooden table. Bayard’s estimate of the people appears to have confirmed -that of Mephistopheles who says (scene V.):— - - “Before all else I bring thee hither - Where boon companions meet together, - To let thee see how smooth life runs away. - Here, for the folk, each day’s a holiday: - With little wit, and ease to suit them, - They whirl in narrow, circling trails, - Like kittens playing with their tails: - And if no headache persecute them, - So long the host may credit give, - They merrily and careless live.” - -The peasantry still crowd the cellar, still sing the old lays, and each -day tell over again the old legend of Mephistopheles’ miraculous exit. - - “I saw him, with these eyes, upon a wine cask riding - Out of the cellar door, just now.” - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - Pictures at Dresden.—Raphael’s Madonna.—Bayard’s Art - Education.—His Exalted Ideas of Art.—His Enthusiasm.—Visits - Bohemia.—Stay in Prague.—The Curiosities of Vienna.—Tomb of - Beethoven.—Respect for Religion.—Listens to Strauss.—View of - Lintz.—Munich and its Decorations.—The Home of Schiller.—Poetic - Landscapes, and Charming People.—Statue by Thorwaldsen.—Walk to - Heidelberg. - - -At Dresden, Bayard visited the picture-gallery, for the purpose of seeing -Raphael’s Madonna and Child, known as the _Madonna di San Sisto_. His -description of that painting, so unfortunately abridged in his book, was -one of the finest examples of art criticism to be found in print. His -appreciation of painting and sculpture was remarkable, indeed, for one -who never made them a professional study, and whose rude sketches in -pencil in his note books, contained nearly all of his undertakings as an -amateur. His soul seemed cast in the proper mould for that kind of work, -but his hand was never trained to materialize the pictures that filled -the galleries of his imagination. He had all those finer sensibilities -and acute instincts which fitted him for art in poetry or stone, and he -saw in paintings and statuary, beauties or defects which thousands of -colder but more studious critics failed to notice. - -He spoke of that Madonna at Dresden, as a painting that moved his whole -nature in admiration. He enjoyed it. He feasted on it. He read it as one -follows an exciting romance. He felt the power of the picture as Raphael -felt it, and seemed to appreciate it even more keenly than the artist. -How much satisfaction and delight he found in the enormous collections -of art in the Old World, cannot be told or understood by any one whose -natural genius leads them not in such a direction. His mental appetite -for such things grew so keen, as he went on from city to city and gallery -to gallery, that he much preferred to leave his meals untasted, than -pass a great painting without study. Like the true artist, his mind -took in the grand ideals, and his respect and admiration for the divine -handiwork in producing man and beast, caused him often to wince under the -suggestive and degrading obtrusiveness of fig-leaves and rude drapery in -sculpture. The human form in all its heavenly beauty and godlike majesty, -as reproduced in marble by the great artists, was too sacred and pure to -him, to be marred by the suggestions of sin. No man or woman will ever -become an artist, in its highest, noblest sense, until their love for -beauty, simplicity, and purity, lifts them above the impressions that -are born of ignorance, vulgarity, and sin. Bayard, in after years, thus -beautifully wrote of sculpture:— - - “In clay the statue stood complete, - As beautiful a form, and fair, - As ever walked a Roman street - Or breathed the blue Athenian air: - The perfect limbs, divinely bare, - Their old, heroic freedom kept, - And in the features, fine and rare, - A calm, immortal sweetness slept. - - O’er common men it towered, a god, - And smote their meaner life with shame, - For while its feet the highway trod, - Its lifted brow was crowned with flame - And purified from touch of blame: - Yet wholly human was the face, - And over them who saw it came - The knowledge of their own disgrace. - - It stood, regardless of the crowd, - And simply showed what men might be: - Its solemn beauty disavowed - The curse of lost humanity. - Erect and proud, and pure and free, - It overlooked each loathsome law - The life, travels, and literary career of Bayard Taylor - Whereunto others bend the knee, - And only what was noble saw.” - - The blameless spirit of a lofty aim - Sees not a line that asks to be concealed - By dextrous evasion; but, revealed - As truth demands, doth Nature smite with shame - Them, who with artifice of ivy-leaf - Unsex the splendid loins, or shrink the frame - From life’s pure honesty, as shrinks a thief, - While stands a hero ignorant of blame! - - “Each part expressed its nicely measured share, - In the mysterious being of the whole: - Not from the eye or lip looked forth the soul, - But made her habitation everywhere - Within the bounds of flesh; and Art might steal, - As once, of old, her purest triumphs there.” - -This appreciation of the inner feelings of the sculptor and painter, -is the more astonishing, because of the unusual disadvantages under -which he first studied the works of the ancient masters. Aching limbs, -bruised feet, and an empty stomach are not usually aids to the critic in -forming a judgment of the symmetry or grace of any work of art. But his -enthusiastic recitals of his visits to the celebrated paintings, show no -less rapture when he saw them in fatigue and hunger, than when he looked -upon them in rest and bodily satiety. Thus, most naturally, he became the -companion and intimate friend of a large number of the European artists, -and was sought and highly esteemed by all the American painters and -sculptors whom he met in Europe. He understood them. He sympathized with -their enthusiasm and sacrifices; while a great, cold world went by them -without a comforting word or a smile of recognition. - -Dresden was like a door to his higher art life, and its collection of -paintings is worthy of such a place. There were, besides the Sistine -Madonna, the “Ascension,” by Raphael Mengs, the “Notte,” by Correggio, -and galleries of master-pieces by Titian, Da Vinci, Veronese, Del Sarto, -Rubens, Vandyck, Lorraine and Teniers; with sculpture in marble, ivory, -bronze and jewels, from Michael Angelo and his cotemporaries. Being the -widest and most diversified collection in Germany, it was eagerly sought -by Bayard, and more reluctantly left behind. More grand than the battle -of Napoleon before its gates, and more lasting in their effects, were the -historic works of art which Dresden is so proud to possess. - -[Illustration: THE DANUBE AT LINTZ.] - -From Dresden, Bayard walked to Prague, leaving behind him, as he -then thought forever, the cheerful, hospitable, kind-hearted people, -with whose kin he afterwards became so intimately and advantageously -connected. In Prague, he ascended the heights where the Bohemian kings -and Amazon queens used to reside, heard the solemn mass in one of -Europe’s most solemn Cathedrals, visited the bridge under which the Saint -Johannes floated with the miraculous stars about his corpse, lost himself -in the bedlam of Jewish clothing-shops, and then, staff in hand, hastened -on over the monotonous plains, and through the highways almost fenced -with wretchedly painted shrines, to the Paris of the west, Vienna. - -There again were rare, treasures of art on which he might study, and in -study, increase in that dignity and expansion of soul which only such -contemplation can give. He was delighted to hear the composer Strauss, -and his orchestra, and amusingly describes the queer antics of that -nervous little musician. He gazed with awe at the stained banners of the -Crusaders, and, with uncovered head, listened to the grand chants in St. -Stephen’s Cathedral; but his pathetic mention of his visit to the tomb of -Beethoven is the most characteristic. - -There was a most lovable trait in Bayard’s character, which became even -more prominent in his after years of travel, which deserves mention -in this connection. He never railed upon the dead, nor ridiculed the -religious belief or acts of devotion of any people, however ignorant or -heathenish. He often mentioned, with emotion, the efforts of the darkened -human mind to find its Creator and Ruler. He treated with sincerest -respect every act of devotion performed in his presence, whether by -Protestant, Catholic, or Mahomedan. There was that in his nature, and his -early Quaker education, that not only kept him in the paths of morality -and on the side of virtue, but through all his writings there runs a -thread of faith in God, which cannot be better expressed than by quoting -one of his own sweet hymns. - - “In the peace of hearts at rest, - In the child at mother’s breast, - In the lives that now surround us, - In the deaths that sorely wound us, - Though we may not understand, - Father, we behold Thy hand!” - -After leaving Vienna, he went, by the way of Enns to Lintz, which is -situated in one of the most picturesque landscapes of the Danube. The -city is surrounded by towers unconnected by walls and has a very romantic -history. Bayard in his letters speaks of the rural scenes about Lintz -in terms of the highest admiration. It was in these Austrian landscapes -that he composed that poem entitled “The Wayside Dream,” and in which we -find the following descriptive lines: - - “The deep and lordly Danube - Goes winding far below; - I see the white-walled hamlets - Amid his vineyards glow, - And southward, through the ether, shine - The Styrian hills of snow. - - “O’er many a league of landscape - Sleeps the warm haze of noon; - The wooing winds come freighted - With messages of June, - And down among the corn and flowers - I hear the water’s tune. - - “The meadow-lark is singing, - As if it still were morn; - Within the dark pine-forest - The hunter winds his horn, - And the cuckoo’s shy, complaining note - Mocks the maidens in the corn.” - -From Lintz, over hills and by meadows, among the merry farmers and their -light-hearted children, they walked on, through Salzburg and Hohenlinden, -to Munich, where another magnificent display of paintings, sculpture, -palaces, parks, and historic localities, rewarded him for his long walk -and limited supply of food. He had so little money that he was compelled -to live on twenty cents a day. There he found the great works of -Thorwaldsen, Cornelius, and Schwanthaler, and copies in marble of almost -every celebrated piece of antique sculpture. There were the gorgeous -palaces of kings and dukes, the beautifully wrought halls and churches, -with the spacious avenues and charming parks. No city in the world -contains such rich decorations, such unique and profuse ornamentation, or -such harmony of design and arrangement, as is shown in the palace halls -and public edifices of Munich. How a visit to them sweetens everything -else in after life, and how the memory of them ever lightens the burden -of care! What American could walk those pavements and floors and not -yearn for the power to give to his own country something to match those -marvellous structures! Bayard must have felt that impulse in common with -others; but, unlike many others, he kept his promise, which was to awaken -a love in every American heart for art in its grand and stable forms; and -many are the promptings and rebukes which we, as a people, have received -from his pen as writer, and from his lips as a lecturer. - -From Munich, the route chosen by Bayard lay through Augsburg, Ulm, and -Wurtemberg, and when he entered the latter country, at Esslingen, he said -the very atmosphere was permeated with poetry. He was delighted with the -green vales, lofty hills, lovely vineyards, waving forests, and feudal -ruins. He was grateful to the kind people, and was made happy by their -universal cheerfulness and good-nature. It was the home of Schiller! -There the first nine years of the poet’s life were spent, and scarce a -nook is there about the interesting old cities which that boy did not -explore. It was toward Wurtemberg, as his childhood’s home, Schiller -exhibited the greatest regard; alas, it was there, too, in Stuttgart, -that the tyrannical Duke imprisoned him for publishing his first play. -There, too, the patriotic Uhland sat in the halls of legislation, and -wrote those poems which fired the hearts of his countrymen to a brave -defence of fatherland. - -Bayard’s happy stay in Esslingen, and his word-pictures of its -attractions, show the progress which he had already made in his love for -that German poetry, of which he was to become so popular an expounder. He -praises the river Neckar and its flowery banks, he lauds the people, he -portrays the landscapes in the brightest colors which poetry may lend to -prose. Bright day! one he never recalled without exclamations of pleasure! - -After such interest as he exhibited in the country of Schiller, it is no -surprise, the next day after leaving Esslingen, to find him in Stuttgart, -looking up into the pensive face of Thorwaldsen’s colossal statue of -Schiller. So attracted and entranced was he by the interpretation of -Schiller, made by the natives, the scenery, and the old home, that when -beautiful Stuttgart opens its avenues, parks, cathedrals, palaces, and -galleries to him, he forsakes and neglects them all for this huge but -faithfully wrought counterfeit in stone of the persecuted singer. To -his naturally sentimental and sensitive character, the German poet was -revealed in ideals more fascinating than any realities. He studied the -face of his brother poet, praised his beauty, repeated a broken stanza of -“William Tell,” and left the other attractions of Stuttgart unseen. - -Passing the castle of Ludwigsburg, and skirting the village of Marbach, -the birthplace of Schiller, a village then about the size of Kennett now, -but obliged to push on for fear of starvation, he walked to Betigheim, -and thence the next day to his first German home, Heidelberg. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - Starts for Switzerland and Italy.—First View of the - Alps.—The Falls of the Rhine.—Zurich.—A Poet’s Home.—Lake - Lucerne.—Goethe’s Cottage.—Scenes in the Life of William - Tell.—Ascent of the Alps at St. Gothard.—Descent into - Italy.—The Cathedral at Milan.—Bayard’s Characteristics.—Tramp - to Genoa.—Visits Leghorn and Pisa.—Lovely Florence.—Delightful - Visits.—The Home of Art. - - -August 1, 1845, Bayard again started from Frankfort on his pedestrian -wanderings, having made up his mind to visit Switzerland, Florence, -Venice, Rome, and perhaps Athens. On this trip his cousin Frank was -again his companion. With their knapsacks on their shoulders and staffs -in hand they began another pilgrimage, confident and strong. With but -a small supply of money, and with but shadowy probabilities of more, -they launched out into a world to them untried and unknown. With excited -imaginations and the keenest anticipations they rose above every -difficulty and faced boldly the probabilities of fatigue and want. They -made a short stay at Freiburg and entered the Black Forest, passing the -Titi Lake and the Feldberg peak. Bayard’s disposition for ascending -mountains, which inclined him to see the top of everything, led him to go -up the cragged side of the Feldberg, from the summit of which he could -just make out the white crests of the Alps. On the nearer approach to -them, and when from the last ranges of the hills of the Black Forest, -they beheld the white Alps in all their indescribable grandeur looming -up at the other side of the vast plain, Bayard spoke of the patriotic -feelings which such a sight must excite in the mind and heart of a Swiss -returning after a long absence to his native land. He thought of his old -nurse and her tales of the Alpine scenery, and of the knolls and vales -of his own home. It is no wonder that the Swiss are free and brave and -strong. The waterfalls, cliffs, and cloud-piercing mountains fill the -soul with a sense of grandeur and glory which tends toward great deeds -and fervent patriotism. Who can recall the eternal snows, the towering -shafts of rock, the roaring caverns, and sweetest of blue lakes, without -the most thrilling emotions! If there are any travellers upon whom the -memory of Switzerland brings no such feelings, they are the exceptions. -Bayard’s nature was such as to enjoy to the full, and sometimes with an -intensity that was almost pain, all those sublime exhibitions of the -power and majesty of the great Creator. - -The fall of the Rhine near Schaffhausen hardly met the expectations of -these travellers, who had heard their German friends speak in such strong -terms of its greatness. It is a most beautiful waterfall, and when viewed -from the platform at the base of the cliff beneath the castle, startles -the spectator with its thundering plunges and foaming whirlpools. To a -native of the same land with Niagara, the Yosemite, and the Yellowstone, -its size is insignificant. But its beauty as a picturesque scene, when -the high banks, the long rapids, the surging pools beneath, and the -jagged rocks that rise through and above the spray and rainbows, are -included in the panorama, can be described only in the strongest language. - -From Schaffhausen they hurried on by the fields of the free and happy -Swiss farmers, and along highways that reminded him of his Pennsylvania -home, into the city of Zurich. There he carefully noted the character -and customs of the people. He was cheered by their friendly greetings, -he was surprised at their intelligence, he was pleased by the happy -faces of the children, and he was proud of the apparent influence of a -republic over its people. He visited the celebrated poet, Freiligrath, at -his villa on the shores of the lake, where the young American poet and -his elder German brother had a most social talk of Bryant, Longfellow, -and Whittier. From Freiligrath’s exile home, they walked by the “Devil’s -Bridge” to the Abbey of Einsiedeln, where the crowd of pilgrims and the -sweetest of singers in the church choir made a pleasant and charming -impression upon Bayard’s mind. Thence by valleys, and mountains, so -broken and grand, and by streams so delicately blue that descended to -the placid Zug, they journeyed to Lake Lucerne. There, on the shore, in -a charming grotto, upon which the Righi and Pilatus look down, while -above and beyond them the white peaks of the loftier Alps shimmer in the -sunshine above the clouds, William Tell, the father of Swiss liberty, had -his home. There, in an embowered cottage, that peeped from the leaves -like a maiden so coy, resided for a long time the poet Goethe; and there, -according to his own account, he studied the plot for a poem, but which -was afterwards embodied by his friend Schiller in the drama of “William -Tell.” There was the rock on which Tell leaped from Gessler’s boat; there -grew the linden-tree where Tell shot the apple from the head of his son; -there the chapel of William Tell, and there the hundreds of interesting -localities connected more or less closely with the early tyranny of -Austria and the heroic resistance of the Swiss patriots. Bayard loved -the works of Schiller, as, in fact, could hardly be avoided by any one -who reads them in the original tongue and amid the scenes so strikingly -described. - -From Burglen, where Tell was born and where he so heroically died while -attempting to save a child from drowning, they marched upward along the -banks of the Reuss to Amsteg, and thence along the precipices where -the craggy mountains rose thousands of feet above them, and, the wild -stream surged and raged far, far below them. No scene more wild and -overwhelmingly grand than that at the “Devil’s Bridge,” over which they -crossed on their way to the summit of St. Gothard. Black chasms yawned at -their feet; enormous shelving rocks hung threatening overhead. Clouds of -spray, like steam from huge caldrons, arose from numberless pits, wherein -the streams boiled and hissed in their crevice-like channels. The clear -air was like wine. The peaks seemed to reach to heaven, and gleamed with -celestial purity. The charm of the scenery lifted the mind and awakened -the holiest emotions, while the balm of health permeated the body, and -gave it a strength seemingly supernatural. What person is there who loves -not the dear old peaks of Switzerland! Who has passed the heights of St. -Gothard and not awakened a glow in his body and an impulse in his soul -that strengthen him ever after! - -But it is not our purpose to portray to the reader the scenes, in the -description of which Bayard so much excelled, and hence, making note -only of such things as had a marked influence on his life and writings, -we hastily follow him in his pilgrimage through the vale of Ticino, -over Lago Maggiore, to the gates of Milan, under the clear blue sky of -lovely Italy. There the most magnificent marble Cathedral in all the -world, when considered as a triumph of art in reproducing the Beautiful, -lifted its spires and figures above the roofs of churches and palaces. -A bewildering forest of peaks and towers confuse the student of its -outline, and innumerable collections of exquisitely wrought groups -and statues dishearten and confuse the student of art. Yet the unity -of its proportions, and the symmetry of its arches and cornices, were -recognized by all. Bayard trod its artistic pavement with feelings of -awe and admiration. He gazed long upon its aisles and pillars, and crept -on tip-toe into the shadows of its great altar. It is one of the most -solemn things in life to stand in such a temple of genius. The stained -windows, with their sacred figures and symbols, the sweet reverberations -of the sacred music, the low chant of the priests, the kneeling forms of -penitent worshippers, the strength of the workmanship and vastness of -its sombre recesses, awaken sensations that sleep in the open air. The -naturally vicious and cruel avoid those chancels, and the wise and good -gain encouragement from the supreme calm that reigns therein. Bayard -enjoyed his stay in Milan and his visits to the Cathedral most heartily, -and it was an important experience in the development of his natural -character. How his skill in observation, and his interest in everything -had increased! Bright and acute by nature, he saw and noted many things -when he first landed, which others would have passed without observing; -but those months of discipline and anxious research had developed this -characteristic, until, as he enters Italy, he notices every shrub, every -animal, every building, every man, woman and child; and at a glance -passes them under such close scrutiny that he is able, months after, to -describe them in all the details of form, color, nature, association, -habits, and occupation. How boundless and fathomless is the unobserved -about us! How few notice the myriad of interesting and enlightening -objects and incidents that come within the range of their vision! The -disposition and aptitude for observation is as indispensable to the -traveller, as it is convenient to one who plods the dull routine of -home life. Bayard was naturally discerning and inclined to investigate. -Such will be the deliberate conclusion of one who studies his life as a -whole, although his enemies have sometimes taken advantage of his modest -suppressions to accuse him of blindness. Bayard sees a child in the -garments of priesthood, and pities him for his solitary life. He meets a -poor woman and notices the texture of her dress, and the scar upon her -cheek. He looks at a painting of the Cathedral, and observes that a spire -is wanting. He looks at the towers, and compares those creations of art -with the more rugged spires of Monte Rosa’s ice-crags. He laments the -ignorance of the people whose features advertised their needs. He studies -and criticises the shape and position of the Arch of Peace, and the -bronze groups that adorn its summit: shops, toy-stands, cabs, soldiers, -flowers, priests, dukes, houses, fields, schools, coin, clothing, -atmosphere, and food,—all are noticed and laid away for recollection, -as without order they attracted his attention. He discovered more worth -relating in Milan, than some travellers saw in the whole of Europe.[1] - -From Milan the party walked to Genoa, going through the battle-fields -of Hannibal and the Cæsars, along highways once the paved roads of the -Roman Empire, and under the shadows of ancient castles whose walls once -bristled with the shields of knights and spears of yeomen. It was a -glorious, though tedious journey, and by thus travelling in the manner of -pilgrims they met the inhabitants at their usual occupations, and learned -much of the customs and feelings of the common people. Such information -comes not through the windows of railroad carriages, nor enters by the -portals of grand hotels. - -Having visited the ducal palaces, cathedrals, and parks of Genoa, he went -by boat to Leghorn, and thence to Pisa. There he saw, in the Cathedral, -the swinging chandelier which led Galileo to investigate the laws of -gravitation, and satisfied his curiosity by ascending the Leaning Tower, -and left the city with those melodies of unearthly sweetness, which the -echoes of the Baptistry give forth, still ringing in his ears. After -riding all night in a rickety cart, and suffering horribly from the -terrible storm and jolting conveyance, he entered the sacred precincts of -that hallowed city, so beautiful, so dear to the heart of the poet and -painter,—Florence. - -In his poem, “The Picture of St. John,” Bayard thus speaks of that -enchanted locality:— - - “Ah, lovely Florence! never city wore - So shining robes as I on thee bestowed: - For all the rapture of my being flowed - Around thy beauty, filling, flooding o’er - The banks of Arno and the circling hills, - With light no wind of sunset ever spills - From out its saffron seas! Once, and no more, - Life’s voyage touches the enchanted shore.” - -During his stay in Florence, Bayard wrote a poem which so clearly -expressed his affection for the maiden in Kennett, whom he afterwards -married, that many have supposed the fictitious title, by which he -addressed her, to be her real name. In that poem he thus referred to -Florence:— - - “Dear Lillian, all I wished is won! - I sit beneath Italia’s sun, - Where olive orchards gleam and quiver - Along the banks of Arno’s river. - - Rich is the soil with fancy’s gold; - The stirring memories of old - Rise thronging in my haunted vision, - And wake my spirit’s young ambition.” - -That Italian paradise, situated in the beautiful vale of that most -charming river, is perhaps the loveliest spot in all that land. Being the -home of such artists as Michael Angelo and Raphael, the abode of such -poets as Dante, and of such scientific men as Galileo, it possessed an -intense interest because of its association with them. Being also the -seat of the De Medici, of Machiavelli, of Pitti, and the resort of the -greatest American poets and sculptors, its themes for verse and prose -are almost numberless. There Bayard made a stay of several months. He -devoted himself to the study of the Italian language, in which he soon -became proficient, and visited every castle, monastery, amphitheatre, and -mountain in the suburbs, and carefully scrutinized the tombs of Sante -Croce, the inlaid work of the Duomo, and those marvels of art in the -Pitti and Uffizi galleries. He ever after mentioned his first stay in -Florence as a season of the most intense delight, and knowing how vast is -the field for study and recreation, and his peculiar susceptibility to -all the lights and shades of art, we see how full was his heart of the -purest and most satisfactory intellectual joy. There he saw Raphael’s -“St. John in the Desert,” and it is probable that the painting prompted -him to write the poem entitled “The Picture of St. John,” the scene of -which is laid partly in Florence, and is one of his most valued literary -productions. There he saw the _Madonna della Sedia_ of Raphael, the -companion piece of the _Madonna_ he saw and so much admired in Dresden. -There he saw Titian’s Goddess, so radiant with feminine beauty, and there -Michael Angelo’s first attempt at sculpture;—so many treasures of art are -there, and so many sacred places renowned in history, that the great city -gains its living from the visitors and students that fill its hotels, -and crowd its churches and museums. Bayard actually loved Florence, and -returned to it afterwards with that irresistible yearning which a young -man feels for the home of his lover. - -There remains in all the world but one other place for the artist after -he has seen and appreciated Florence. His love for the exquisitely -sweet and beautiful is satisfied,—all the tender and delicate links -between art and nature can there be seen and felt. An exhibition of the -mighty, grand, colossal side of art remains; and to the lover of such -exhibitions, and to the romance-seeker who, like Bayard, desires to walk -the dusty halls, peopled with the ghosts of half-forgotten ages, Rome -still waits. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - Visit to Rome.—Attractions of its Ruins.—Bayard’s Persistent - Searches.—His Limited Means.—Sights and Experiences.—Journey to - Marseilles.—Walks to Lyons.—Desperate Circumstances.—Stay in - Paris.—Employment of his Time.—Departure for London.—Failure - to obtain Money or Work.—Seeks a Friend.—Obtains Help from a - Stranger.—Voyage to New York.—Arrival Home. - - -Who has entered the aged city of Rome and not felt the power of its -thrilling associations? How the doors of history swing open before the -traveller, and how sublime the panorama which unfolds to his view! How -swiftly pass the scenes of pomp and the parades of heroes! It cannot be -described. It must be felt to be understood. It requires no very active -imagination to see again the strong walls, the towers, the gates, the -majestic temples, and the superb Capitol rising over all. To be able -to walk its paved streets, and wend about its Corinthian porches, and -through its marvellous arches; to rush with the crowds of Romans to a -seat in the Coliseum; to march in the triumphal processions, and to -listen to the echo of Cicero’s voice among the pillars of the Forum, is -no very difficult dream, when the same buildings which saw and heard -those things are yet before you. One can stand in the shadows of ancient -ruins, when the moon gives light enough to see the outline, but not -sufficient to show the scars which the ages have given them, and witness -again the gatherings of the Roman people, and make out the forms of -Cincinnatus, of Scipio, of Marius, of Cæsar, of Cicero, of Augustus, -or of Constantine, as their lumbering chariots jolt over the pavements -and around the palace walls. The Tiber, which rolls on its ceaseless -course, and which saw the faces of Livy, Horace, and Virgil, moves by the -Tarpeian Rock, and the Campus Martius, with the same eddying playfulness -as it exhibited then. New glories gild the clouds, and new temples adorn -the adjacent plains. Jupiter gives way to Jehovah, priests of Janus and -Venus stand aside for monks and friars to fill their office. The Coliseum -crumbles, as St. Paul’s lifts its grand façades. Capitolinus falls and -St. Peter’s fills the bow of heaven. Marvels of ancient art grow dusty -with the ages, while new forms, so divinely conceived, so incomparably -wrought, and so immaculate in modesty and matchless in color, spring -into being at the call of the later civilization. All is interesting, -exciting, glorious! One walks the streets in dreams, lulled by the -musical cadences of the rippling native language. Words cannot convey -the feelings awakened by that new sense, which discerns and interprets -the ancient and modern associations of Rome. The traveller feels as if -he were a companion of the great and powerful, of the refined and good, -who have walked those streets before him, and ever after the words they -spoke, and the books they wrote, have a fresh and unabating interest. - -[Illustration: THE ARENA OF THE COLISEUM.] - -So Bayard saw the ancient city, although he has described it somewhat -differently. Rome was to Florence what the Apollo is to the Venus de -Medici, each enhancing the beauty of the other, and losing nothing by -comparison. It was near the first of January, 1846, when the subject -of these sketches entered Rome and took up his abode in a lowly tavern -opposite the front of the Pantheon. In a most humble, almost beggarly -way, he obtained his food at the cheapest places, and walked among those -old ruins in the most unobtrusive manner. He was too poor, and earned -too little as a newspaper correspondent, to spend aught on the luxuries -of Rome. Hence all his time and attention were on that which pleased -the eye and satisfied the mind, rather than upon those things which -gratify the appetite or inflate the pride. He walked to the Coliseum by -moonlight, and heeded not fatigue. For within its cragged circuit he -saw again the excited hosts, the gay ladies about the imperial throne, -the writhing Christian, and the lions with bloody jaws. Or he saw the -fiercer human beings engaged in the gladiatorial combat, saw the flash -of shields and swords, heard the groan of the dying as it was drowned by -the rising shouts for the victor. He searched the hidden recesses of the -baths, palaces, arches, prisons, and churches, which remain as reminders -of the old city; he marched far out on the Appian Way and contemplated -its tombs and mysterious piles in laborious detail; he sketched the -spirals of Trajan’s Column, and drew a plan of the ancient Capitol. In -awe-stricken silence he walked beneath the dome of mighty St. Peter’s, -and marvelled in worshipful mood before those exquisite mosaics. He -lingered long and lovingly in the great labyrinth of the Vatican, wept at -the sight of some of those great paintings, and bowed with respect to the -greatest productions of the greatest sculptors. Few will give credit to -the glowing pictures which he draws of the arts in Rome, nor believe the -strong assertions we herein make, who have not been there and experienced -the same sensations. - -He visited in pious respect the tombs of Tasso, Keats, and Shelley, and -found his way into the studios of the modern artists. He took short trips -into the country, and once stopped for the night under the shadows of -the Temple of Vesta at Tivoli. Beyond Rome he could not go. For once, -Dame Fortune turned her back upon him. If he would see Naples, Pompeii, -and Samos, he must have money. Money he could not get. Grievously -disappointed, yet thankful for what he had seen, he most devoutly thanks -God, and turns northward. - -At Civita Vecchia to which place he, as usual, walked, he embarked, -third class, on a steamboat for Marseilles. The beds were rough planks, -the food was drenched like himself, and fleas infested every stitch of -covering. It stormed, and Bayard might have perished with exposure to the -bad weather, had not a sailor taken compassion on him and his companion, -and lent them some clothing. That kindness he ever remembered, and it may -have been in his mind when, after meeting many sailors, he wrote of them:— - - “They do not act with a studied grace, - They do not speak in delicate phrase, - But the candor of heaven is on their face, - And the freedom of ocean in all their ways. - - They cannot fathom the subtle cheats, - The lying arts that the landsmen learn: - Each looks in the eyes of the man he meets, - And whoso trusts him, he trusts in turn. - - But whether they die on sea or shore, - And lie under water, or sand, or sod, - Christ give them the rest that he keeps in store, - And anchor their souls in the harbor of God!” - -He arrived at Marseilles with but five dollars for the expense of a -journey of five hundred miles on foot. Dark outlook, indeed, on entering -for the first time a country with whose language he was unacquainted. -Through rain and mud, sunshine and darkness, he moved on, courageous as -ever, and enjoying with the same zest his glimpses of ancient cathedrals -and renowned localities. At Lyons he received a small amount of money -by mail, and at a time when death by starvation seemed but a few hours -removed. The story of his mishaps by land and by water, on his way -from Lyons to Paris is a very exciting narration, as he relates them -in his “Views Afoot,” and yet shows the best side of a most terrible -experience. But Paris was reached at last, and in the first week of -February, 1846, they found a lodging place in the Rue de la Harpe, at the -rate of two dollars and eighty cents a month. He lived on twenty cents -a day, and in place of a teacher of French, subscribed at a circulating -library and picked out the words and phrases by downright hard study -in his fireless and damp attic. For five weeks he studied and rambled -and endured privation, learning Paris by heart and finding himself made -free and happy by the atmosphere of gayety which pervades everything -there. His favorite resort was the Place de la Concorde, which is an -open space at one side of the palace of the Tuileries, and at the foot -of that magnificent embowered avenue called the Champs Elysées. There -were then, as now, the enchanting groves, with the gardens, concert -bowers, and shy booths. There was the obelisk from Luxor, which called -Bayard’s attention to Egypt and created a strong desire to see that -ancient land of the Nile. There were the solid walls of the Tuileries -upon one side, the river Seine upon another, while the twin palaces, with -the distant front of the Madeleine Church showing between them, shut out -the populous city on the other. But the pavements, flowers, fountains, -bronze figures, obelisk and palaces were the least of the attractions -which called this persevering young student to that celebrated square. It -was there that many of the most important acts in the history of France -were performed. It was there that kings were made, and there they were -beheaded. It was there that priests had preached, and there that they -were murdered. It was there that in the crimson and lurid days of ’94, -the Red Revolutionists each day filled the baskets at the foot of the -guillotine with the heads of twoscore and often threescore citizens. Who -would surmise that in a city so gay, so cheerful, so imbued with the very -spirit of pleasure and childlike life, such hideous deeds of blood and -destruction could be performed! Quick-tempered, excitable people, going -with the flash of a thought from one extreme to the other. No place in -all Paris better exhibits the character of the nation, than the Place de -la Concorde. There Bayard often lingered and pondered, seeing clearly -through the film of gay attire, garlands of roses, delightful wines, and -gorgeous carriages, the dangerous yet often heroic elements, which have -so often thrown off the crust of fashion and politeness, and flooded the -beautiful city with seething torrents from the deepest hell. - -[Illustration: PLACE DE LA CONCORDE.] - -He sought out the master-pieces of art in the galleries, cathedrals, -and parks, and dwelt long and caressingly upon their entrancing forms, -having now passed through a school that left him a competent critic. He -gazed after the carriage where Louis Philippe rode in state, and wondered -if such a monarchy could endure, and with a powerful yearning fumbled -the unintelligible leaves of Victor Hugo, Beranger, and Lamartine—not, -however, to be long unintelligible. - -There, again, he was in financial distress, and was saved from great -suffering by the unexpected kindness of a merchant, who, like Mr. -Chandler and Mr. Patterson at the beginning of his career, loaned him -money, although Bayard was a stranger and could give no security. - -From Paris _via_ Versailles and Rouen, he walked to Dieppe, and, after -crossing the Channel, travelled by third-class car to London, where he -arrived with but thirty cents in French money. With no money to pay his -lodging, with a letter from home in the post-office, on which he could -not pay the postage, he made desperate attempts to obtain employment as -a printer. But the “Trade Unions” were so omnipotent, that no stranger -without a certificate could be set at work without a “strike.” At last, -when long without his usual meals, and sure of being refused a lodging, -he applied to Mr. Putnam, who was conducting the London agency of the -American publishing firm, who loaned him five dollars, and he could -again eat and sleep. Several weeks of waiting intervened, in which Mr. -Putnam kindly kept Bayard in employment, at a salary sufficient to pay -his board, before the money came from America to take them home. Even -then the captain of the vessel on which he returned with his two friends -who started with him nearly two years before, was compelled to take a -promise for a part of the fare. Captain Morgan, who commanded the vessel, -was one of the noblest men that ever paced a deck, and so popular did he -become, that his biography was published thirty years after this passage, -in an illustrated number of “Scribner’s Magazine.” Their voyage was a -fair one, their landing in New York a happy one; but no pen except his -own can describe the joy of seeing again his own country, and of walking -at evening into the door of that home which he left two years before as -_a boy_, and to which he then returned _a man_. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - Edits a Country Newspaper.—The “Phœnixville Pioneer.”—The - Discouragements.—The Suspension.—Publishes “Views - Afoot.”—Introduction to Literary Men.—Contributes to - the “Literary World.”—Becomes an Editor of the New York - “Tribune.”—The Gold Excitement of 1849.—Resolves to visit the - Eldorado.—Arrival in California. - - -Bayard Taylor’s gifts were not such as would contribute toward the -success of a country newspaper—so delicate, refined, poetical, and -classical, we wonder that he should ever have undertaken so uncongenial -a work. The best things which he could write would be dull as lead to -the majority of his readers. The more literary merit his editorials and -poems contained, the less likely were they to receive the praise of -his subscribers. Yet his disposition to work was so inherent in every -nerve, that he had not been at home one week from his tour of Europe -before he was searching for a place for editorial work or correspondence. -Mr. Frederick Foster, who was an old acquaintance and who also had -been in the office of the West Chester “Village Record,” suggested the -establishment of a weekly newspaper. As they looked for an opening for -such an enterprise, they hit upon the town of Phœnixville, Pa., as the -most advantageous locality. Phœnixville was then a prosperous village, -containing about two thousand inhabitants, twenty-seven miles from -Philadelphia and thirty-one miles from Reading. There were rolling-mills, -furnaces, and a variety of manufactories in the town, and the people -constituted an enterprising and unusually vigorous community. There Mr. -Taylor and Mr. Foster began the publication of the “Pioneer,” and with -high hopes and an alarming confidence, waited neither for capital nor -subscribers. - -Mr. Taylor has often related to his friends some most amusing anecdotes -connected with his life as a country editor. One subscriber wanted a -glossary, another wished to see the local gossip about John Henry Smith’s -surprise party, instead of the dull columns of literary reviews. One -suggested that two editors would kill any paper, while another ventured -to assert that he himself would edit the paper for them at three hundred -dollars a year and “find shears.” - -It was a difficult task. To edit the New York “Herald” would have been -far easier and better suited to Mr. Taylor’s genius. The people, of -Phœnixville, however, began to appreciate their privileges after the lack -of support compelled the young journalists to close their office and -suspend the publication of the paper; and financial aid to re-establish -the “Pioneer” was generously offered. But one year in such an -unappreciated labor was enough for Mr. Taylor, and he left Phœnixville, -according to his own account, considerably wiser and poorer than he was -when he entered it. If any of our readers has attempted to start a -literary paper in the country, and passed through the perplexities of -financial management and rude discouragements, he will need no words to -prompt his most hearty sympathy with the work, and the suspension of Mr. -Taylor’s undertaking. To make successful a publication of that character -in a scattered and small community, requires a greater diversity of -talent, greater manual labor, and a closer study of all-various human -nature, than it does to conduct the largest establishments in the -limitless field of a great city. Mr. Taylor’s experience simply added -another illustration of the universal rule. His best articles were -unappreciated or believed to be borrowed, and everything hindered the -pursuit of that conscientious literary aspiration which feels keenly the -failings and improprieties of superficial work. - -It was in this year that Mr. Taylor prepared, and Mr. Putnam published, -his surprisingly attractive volume, entitled “Views Afoot.” With such -Quaker-like simplicity was it written, and such a noble spirit of poetry -pervaded the descriptions of scenery, men, and art, that it leaped into -popular favor on the prestige of its advance sheets. Its success was a -forcible example of the winning power of simple truth. Its interest will -never abate, because he did not assume the pompous airs of an infallible -critic, but rather chose to pretend to nothing but describe what he saw -as it appeared to him. - -The success of that book introduced him at once into the literary circles -of New York, where, with the friendship of Mr. Willis, Mr. Parke Godwin, -Mr. Horace Greeley, Mr. William Cullen Bryant, and many others, well -known as men of the highest culture, he received a most cordial welcome. -He was at once secured by the management of the “Literary World,” a -periodical issued weekly in New York, and which, from 1847 to 1853, held -the highest place in literary criticism and classical composition gained -by any American magazine or paper of that period. - -When he sought employment on the New York “Tribune,” in 1848, a place -was readily found for him, and he began, by the contribution of small -articles, his long and honorable career as one of the editors of that -influential journal. - -In the spring of 1849, Mr. Greeley suggested to Mr. Taylor the importance -of having some trustworthy information from the gold regions of -California, about which there was then so much excitement. The people -read, with the greatest avidity, every scrap of news or gossip from the -gold-fields, and thousands were on their way by steam and by overland -mule-trains to seek their fortunes in that Eldorado. At no period of our -nation’s history, not excepting the agitation at the beginning of great -wars, have the people of this country exhibited such uncontrollable -excitement as they displayed at that time. - -The rich sold their property to the first bidder, and took the first -conveyance; while the poor started on foot, with nothing to preserve them -from the starvation which followed in the desert. For a time it appeared -as if New England and the Middle States would be left without sufficient -male population to carry on the routine of official duty. - -In the height of that feverish exodus Mr. Taylor decided to fall in -with the tide, and drifting with the current, tell the readers of the -“Tribune” what he saw and heard. Hence, in June, he took passage on a -crowded steamer for Panama, and after a dreadful experience in crossing -the Isthmus, steamed up the Pacific Coast and entered the Golden Gate. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - Entrance to California.—The Camp at San - Francisco in 1849.—Description of the - People.—Gold-Hunters.—Speculations.—Prices of - Merchandise.—Visit to the Diggings.—Adventures on - the Route.—The First Election.—The Constitutional - Convention.—San Francisco after Two Months’ Absence.—Poetical - Descriptions.—Departure for Mexico.—Arrival at - Mazatlan.—Overland to the Capital.—Adventure with - Robbers.—Return to New York. - - -The circumstances under which Mr. Taylor entered California, were in -striking contrast with those which surrounded him when he made his first -attempt to see the world. For, when he started for his European tour, -and throughout the whole period of his stay there, he was hindered and -annoyed by the lack of money, and by the lack of acquaintances. Then, -he was dependent wholly upon his own earnings and economy for every -privilege he enjoyed. He had nothing substantial behind him, and nothing -certain before him. But in California he moves among the people with -the prestige and capital of a powerful journal behind him, and before -him the certainty of ample remuneration for all his trials. He is no -longer the unknown, uncared-for stripling, whose adventures are regarded -as visionary, and whose company was an intrusion. He was the welcomed -guest of naval officers, of army officers, and invited to the home of the -Military Governor, and to the headquarters of Gen. John C. Fremont. - -When he entered San Francisco, that place was only a miners’ camp, -composed of tents, barracks, piles of merchandise, and tethered mules. -How utterly incomprehensible it seems now to the visitor to that great -metropolis, when he reads that, as late as 1849, there were only huts -and tents where now stand the palatial business blocks, gorgeous hotels, -and miles of residences made of brick and stone! It was an interesting -time to visit the Pacific shore, and most interestingly did Mr. Taylor -describe it in his letters, and in his book entitled “Eldorado.” The -great camp of San Francisco was but a few weeks old when he arrived -there; but, in its boiling humanity, Mr. Taylor noticed Malays, Chinamen, -Mexicans, Germans, Englishmen, Yankees, Indians, Japanese, Chilians, -Hawaiians, and Kanakas, rushing, shouting, gesticulating, like madmen. -Gold! Gold! Gold! Everything, anything for gold! Though hundreds lay -in the swamps of Panama, dead or dying with the cholera; although the -bleaching bones of many enthusiasts gleamed in the sun on the great -American desert; although thousands had perished in the thickets, snows, -and floods of the Sierra Nevada, their eyes never to be gratified with -the sight of gold-dust; yet the increasing multitude followed faster, -and more recklessly in their footsteps. Into such a mass of half-insane -humanity, did Mr. Taylor thrust himself, that the world, as well as -himself, might profit thereby. Great names were given to the smallest -things, and prices larger than the names. The Parker House was a board -shanty with lodging-rooms at twenty-five dollars a week, and was not more -than seventy feet square, but rented to the landlord for one hundred -and ten thousand dollars a year. Newspapers sold for a dollar each, and -nearly every class of merchandise from the Eastern States brought a -profit of several thousand per cent. The wages of a common laborer were -from fifteen dollars to twenty dollars a day, while real estate went up -so fast in price, that few dared to sell, lest the next day should show -that they had lost a fortune. One man, who died insolvent, but having, in -his name a small tract of land, left after all a million of dollars to -his heirs, so much did the lands increase in value before the estate was -settled. - -Fortunes were made in a single day. If a man arrived there with anything -to sell, he could put his own price upon it, and dispose of it to the -first comer. One man, whose store was a log-cabin with a canvas roof, -made five hundred thousand dollars in eight months. Gambling was carried -on in an equally magnificent scale. Greater bets than Baden-Baden or -Monaco ever saw, were common-place there. Millions of dollars changed -hands every day. Gold was so plentiful, that boys made immense profits, -gathering, out of the dust in the streets, the nuggets and fine gold -which had been carelessly allowed to drop from the miners’ bags or -pockets. - -From that strangest of all strange medleys, Mr. Taylor travelled, -mule-back, through a wild and dangerous region, to Stockton, and thence -to the productive “diggings” on Mokelumne River. There he saw the miners -hard at work gathering the gold in the most primitive manner. The sands -found in the dry bed of the river were mixed with gold, while in the -crevices and little holes in the rocks, pieces of gold, varying from the -size of a five-cent piece to that of a hen’s egg, were frequently found. -Gold from the sand was gathered by shaking a bowlful of it until the -heaviest particles fell through to the bottom; and by washing away the -finer particles of dirt, and picking out the stones with the fingers. -Nearly every miner found some gold; but those who made the immense -fortunes were quite rare. For many of such as were in luck, and who found -great sums, were so sure of finding more, that they squandered what -they had discovered, in a manner most unfortunate for them, but very -fortunate for those who had found nothing. All the details, experiences, -and adventures of these followers of Mammon were exhibited to Mr. Taylor, -and the most tempting offers made to him to dig for himself. But, true -to his employers, he turned from mines “with millions in them,” and -wrote letters for the “Tribune.” Over jagged mountains, through thickets -of thorns, through muddy rivers, over desert plains, and along routes, -dangerous alike from man and beast, he fearlessly pursued his journey -of observation, exhibiting many of those characteristics which have -distinguished H. M. Stanley, that other great correspondent. Sights he -saw that curdled the blood; men he met, pale, haggard, and dying; bones -he saw of lost and starved miners; and the extremes of misery and joy, -wealth and poverty, generosity and meanness, faith in God, and worship of -the devil, which must have bewildered him. - -The fact that he had money and social influence did not protect him from -the hardships common to all travellers who visited the gold mines of -California at that early period. Many nights he slept in the open air, -having his single blanket and the cold earth for a bed. Often he made his -couch on a table or the floor in some rude and dirty cabin. Sometimes he -was lost in the woods or among the mountains, and frequently suffered -long for food and water. He was determined to see the land and its -freight of human life in its most practical form, although by so doing he -often risked the loss of comfort, of property, and occasionally of his -life. - -One of the most interesting chapters of history to be found in any work -connected with life in the United States, is to be found in his simple -but graphic account of the first election in California. The rough, -disintegrated, and shifting communities of that new land had for a year -and a half depended for law and order upon the innate respect for the -rights of others to be found in the hearts of a majority of civilized -men. Beyond this there were organized in some of the mining towns a -vigilance committee, and in a few others a judge with almost supreme -power was elected by a vote of the people. These officials administered -justice by common consent, having no commission or authority from the -National Government. The enormous crowds of immigrants which filled -towns and cities in a single month made the necessity for some form of -State or Territorial government apparent to the least thoughtful. So a -few of the more enterprising individuals, advised and assisted by the -military authorities, undertook to bring order out of chaos by calling -upon the people to elect delegates to a Constitutional Convention. The -readiness and systematic manner in which the people of that whole region -responded to the call, was one of the most remarkable as well as one -of the most instructive popular movements to be found in the annals of -freedom. The meeting of that Constitutional Convention at Monterey; -the rude accommodations, the ability of the body, the harmony of their -deliberations, and the wisdom of their regulations and provisions, was -the subject of many most enthusiastic epistles from the pen of Mr. -Taylor. In his celebrated book, now so much prized by the people of -California, and by students of American history, he gives many little -details and incidents which are left out of other books and so often -overlooked by authors and correspondents, but which are of inestimable -importance in gaining an accurate knowledge of the inside social and -political beginnings of that powerful State. He described the appearance -of the building in which the Convention met, gives sketches of the -prominent actors in the assembly, and, as if foreseeing how posterity -would like to preserve the memory of that great day, he gives the -complexion, color of the hair, stature, and dress of the noted men who -held seats. It is as exciting as one of Scott’s novels to read of the -emotion, the tears, among those legislators when the new State was born, -and when the “thirty-first” gun was fired from the fort to announce the -completion of the great event. Thus, from the consent of the governed -in its most literal sense, the officers of the State of California -derived their just powers. And without discord, rebellious or seditious -conspiracies, a new government took its place among the empires of the -world. The description of that event in his simple, straightforward way -was one of Mr. Taylor’s best deeds. - -Yet every incident and scene had its poetic side to him, and, while that -phase of his nature did not lead him to exaggeration in prose, it often -led him to break into independent poetic effusions. He appears to have -long looked upon the Pacific coast as a field of poetry and song, for, -before he had any idea of visiting the country, he wrote several poems, -and located them there. “The Fight of Paso del Mar” was one of those -early poems, and the scene was the cliff at the entrance to the harbor at -Santa Barbara. - - “Gusty and raw was the morning, - A fog hung over the seas, - And its gray skirts, rolling inland, - Were torn by the mountain trees; - No sound was heard but the dashing - Of waves on the sandy bar, - When Pablo of San Diego - Bode down to the Paso del Mar. - - The pescadòr, out in his shallop, - Gathering his harvest so wide, - Sees the dim bulk of the headland - Loom over the waste of the tide; - He sees, like a white thread, the pathway - Wind round on the terrible wall, - Where the faint, moving speck of the rider - Seems hovering close to its fall.” - -Most sweetly sang he of the climate, and the prolific gifts of nature -in California, and one verse of his “Manuela” contains a very vivid and -accurate picture of some of California, as seen by many travellers. - - “All the air is full of music, for the winter rains are o’er, - And the noisy magpies chatter from the budding sycamore; - Blithely frisk unnumbered squirrels, over all the grassy slope; - Where the airy summits brighten, nimbly leaps the antelope.” - -In a prophetic strain, which has been so often quoted in that land where - - “The seaward winds are wailing through Santa Barbara’s pines, - And like a sheathless sabre, the far Pacific shines,” - -he foretold, in “The Pine Forest of Monterey,” what has already happened -in that magic land of sunshine, gold, and miraculous progress. - - “Stately Pines, - But few more years around the promontory - Your chant will meet the thunders of the sea. - No more, a barrier to the encroaching sand - Against the surf ye’ll stretch defiant arm, - Though with its onset and besieging shock - Your firm knees tremble. Never more the wind - Shall pipe shrill music through your mossy beards, - Nor sunset’s yellow blaze athwart your heads - Crown all the hills with gold. Your race is past: - The mystic cycle, whose unnoted birth - Coeval was with yours, has run its sands, - And other footsteps from these changing shores - Frighten its haunting Spirit. Men will come - To vex your quiet with the din of toil; - The smoky volumes of the forge will stain - This pure, sweet air; loud keels will ride the sea, - Dashing its glittering sapphire into foam; - Through all her green cañadas Spring will seek - Her lavish blooms in vain, and clasping ye, - O, mournful Pines, within her glowing arms, - Will weep soft rains to find ye fallen low.” - -He portrayed his California experiences in rhyme, when he sang of “The -Summer Camp,” and we quote a few lines of it, so appropriate to his -departure from San Francisco. - - “No more of travel, where the flaming sword - Of the great sun divides the heavens; no more - Of climbing over jutty steeps that swim - In driving sea-mists, where the stunted tree - Slants inland, mimicking the stress of winds - When wind is none; of plain and steaming marsh, - Where the dry bulrush crackles in the heat; - Of camps by starlight in the columned vault - Of sycamores, and the red, dancing fires - That build a leafy arch, efface and build, - And sink at last, to let the stars peep through; - Of cañons grown with pine, and folded deep - In golden mountain-sides; of airy sweeps - Of mighty landscape, lying all alone - Like some deserted world.” - -He mentioned the deep impression of ceaseless progress which the -change of a few weeks had made in the growth of San Francisco. When -he re-entered it, after his short stay in the mountains, he could not -recognize the streets, while the inhabitants and their manners had -undergone a change still more astonishing. Where there were tents a few -days before, now were large buildings of wood, while the log-cabins and -Chinese houses had, in many places, given place to structures of brick -and stone. Wharves had been built, streets regularly laid out, banks -opened, wholesale stores established, lines of steamers running to -the various ports along the coast, and up the rivers; while the rude, -dirty, careless, rushing multitude had assumed a cleanliness and a -gravity, unequal of course to that of an Eastern city, but astonishingly -in advance of the previous wildness. Law offices, brokers’ boards, -smelting establishments, barber-shops, hotels, bakeries, laundries, and -news-stands had all been established in a confusingly short space of -time. The place he found as a frontier camp, he found four months later -a swarming yet civilized city, with all the officials, and some of the -red tape which characterize older corporations. But San Francisco was -not alone in its growth; for Sacramento, San José, Monterey, and many -other towns and cities, had been as nothing, less than a year before. At -the time he left San Francisco, they were populous cities and villages, -teeming with a resistless, sleepless activity. To accurately record such -a change, to give an anxious public correct information regarding that -wonderland, and the fortune of their friends, and to bear a share in the -work of establishing such a State, was the task of Mr. Taylor, and most -creditably did he perform his part. - -On leaving California, about the first of January, 1850, he decided to -go down the coast to Mazatlan and thence overland through Mexico. He -came to that conclusion after long consultations with his friends, none -of whom could or dared accompany him, while all told him of robbers, -deserts, impassable streams, and dangerous wild beasts which awaited all -travellers in that benighted and trackless country. Mr. Taylor would have -enjoyed some thrilling adventures; and the fears of his advisers only -made him more decided in his determination to go. So, alone, and with but -slight knowledge of the Spanish language, he disembarked at Mazatlan on -the Mexican coast, near the mouth of the Gulf of California, and with -a pair of pistols and a dwarfed mule, started into the unknown wilds of -that tropical land. - -[Illustration: CASTLE OF CHAPULTEPEC.] - -His hardships were many, and his fatigue at times almost unbearable; but -his love for things new and strange, for the unexplored and unknown, -kept him moving perseveringly on through the thickets and ravines of -upper Mexico. By great skill and considerable assurance he managed to -keep in the good graces of the people he met, and for several days, in -the forests and in the villages, he met, with very kind and hospitable -treatment. - -On one occasion, however, he fell among thieves. Before he arrived at the -city of Mexico, and while still in the wilderness of the interior of the -Mexican highlands, he was suddenly attacked by three Mexican robbers, to -whose marauding purposes he could make no resistance, he having placed -such reliance upon the good faith of the natives as to carry his pistol -without a cartridge in it. The banditti made him dismount and hand -over what little money in coin he happened to have, and after taking -such blankets and trinkets as they desired, left him with his hands -tied behind him, to get on as best he could. Fortunately they did not -want his horse, which he had bought in place of the useless mule, and -after extricating himself from his bonds by long struggles, he mounted -his horse and rode on to Mexico with his drafts for money all intact. -He seems to have placed less reliance on the Mexicans, after that -encounter, and took good care to ride out of range of their muskets and -to keep himself supplied with ammunition. - -His visit to the Mexican capital was an occasion of great interest to -him, and brought up freshly and vividly the story which Prescott has so -well told of the Aztecs and the heroic age of Cortez. No scene in Europe -is said to combine such extremes of sweetness and grandeur, of light -and shade, of valley and hill, of plain and cragged highland, of land -and water, of art and nature, as the valley of Mexico. There he saw the -evidences of prehistoric civilization, and looked with curiosity and awe -upon the towering fortress of Chapultepec, which connects the present -with the ages past. However, Mr. Taylor could not stop long in that -charming vale, and hastened on over the battle-fields of Scott to Vera -Cruz. From Vera Cruz he went by steamer to Mobile, from thence overland -to Charleston, S. C., and by way of North Carolina, Virginia, and -Washington, to New York, where, about the middle of March, he resumed his -duties as editor of the “Tribune” with the thought that there he might -stay the remainder of his life. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - The Poet’s First Love.—Playmates.—Miss Mary S. Agnew.—His - Fidelity.—Poems Inspired by Affection.—Her Failing - Health.—Consumption.—His Return to Her.—The Marriage at the - Death-bed.—Her Death.—The Poet’s Grief.—His Inner Life.—The - Story in his own Rhyme. - - -We now enter upon the most holy ground ever trod by the biographer,—the -sacred recesses of the human heart. In the annals of ordinary life, or -even in those of many great men, the record of their early love may -not be important to the reader. But to the poet, these more subtle -and more tender emotions are events of the greatest importance. Every -heart contains more or less of the poetical sentiment, and the love and -marriage of any individual is a matter of great moment to him, although -it may not be to his biographer. But here we write of a poet. To him, all -the strings of human feeling had a clear and unmistakable sound. To him, -the undertones of life played an important part in the harmony of his -being. All that was pure and sweet in love he saw. All that was beautiful -and lovable in life he felt, with a keenness none but the poet can know. -Hence to him, we find, as in the history of the grand poets of ancient -days, his love was a holy sentiment, to be valued as God’s best gift, -and to be worshipped as a part of Him. - -In a neighboring farm-house, but a short distance from his father’s farm, -lived Mary S. Agnew. She was born and reared in the same community, -went to the same school, attended the same church, and was a playmate, -classmate, and trusted companion. They sought each other in childhood’s -days, and their friendship ripened into love as imperceptibly and surely -as the coming and going of the years developed their lives, and pressed -them forward into manhood and womanhood. Her dark hair and eyes, her -slender form, her lovable disposition, her conscientiousness and purity -were presented to him in that strong light, under which all lovers see -the merits and virtues of their sweethearts. Added to that was the -romance and insight of that other sense which poets are said to possess. -He built a shrine to this idol wherever he went, and through all his -early years she was, as he said in verse, the representative to him -of the goodness of God. On the farm, he made verses in her honor; at -the Quaker meeting he was thankful for her; at the parties and social -gatherings among the young folks, she was the centre of his thought. Not -foolishly or blindly did he exhibit his affection. Not extravagantly or -obtrusively did he follow his wooing. But his poetry and his prose give -here and there a clew to the deep and fervent love of his youthful days. -Some of his very sweetest poetry found its inspiration in that love, -and when the volume is published, if ever it is, in which shall appear -those sonnets, which have modestly been kept thus far from the public -gaze, there will be found gems that the world cannot well spare. How -sincere, disinterested, and noble was his affection, was proved by his -faithful and unabated love, after he had seen the world and its loveliest -ladies, and after the cruel hand of disease had chiselled away the round -and rosy cheeks, and left, in place of the sparkling, blushing maiden of -his early love, a pallid spectre—a shadow of her former self. In all his -wanderings, he never neglected her. In all his most tender writings, her -image is more or less clear. In one of his volumes, “The Poet’s Journal,” -he gives a history of his love and sorrow; of the awakening, after years -of death, in the sweetest and most touching of all his poems. - -He allowed some of his earlier verses to see the light of print, wherein -he makes mention, indirectly, of Mary S. Agnew. When travelling along the -Danube, in 1845, he thus writes:— - - “Old playmates! bid me welcome - Amid your brother-band; - Give me the old affection,— - The glowing grasp of hand! - I seek no more the realms of old,— - Here is my Fatherland. - - Come hither, gentle maiden, - Who weep’st in tender joy! - The rapture of thy presence - Repays the world’s annoy, - And calms the wild and ardent heart - Which warms the wandering boy. - - In many a mountain fastness, - By many a river’s foam, - And through the gorgeous cities, - ’Twas loneliness to roam; - For the sweetest music in my heart - Was the olden songs of home.” - -When in Florence, in 1846, he wrote a poem entitled “In Italy,” wherein -were the following expressive lines:— - - “Rich is the soil with Fancy’s gold; - The stirring memories of old - Rise thronging in my haunted vision, - And wake my spirit’s young ambition. - - But as the radiant sunsets close - Above Val d’Arno’s bowers of rose, - My soul forgets the olden glory, - And deems our love a dearer story. - - Thy words, in Memory’s ear, outchime - The music of the Tuscan rhyme; - Thou standest here—the gentle-hearted— - Amid the shades of bards departed. - - I see before thee fade away - Their garlands of immortal bay, - And turn from Petrarch’s passion-glances - To my own dearer heart-romances.” - - “A single thought of thee effaced - The fair Italian dream I chased; - For the true clime of song and sun - Lies in the heart which mine hath won.” - -When he reached London in 1846, after his long pilgrimage, and when so -reduced in funds and friends, he yet had the time and mind to write of -her these graceful rhymes:— - - “I’ve wandered through the golden lands - Where art and beauty blended shine— - Where features limned by painters’ hands - Beam from the canvas made divine, - And many a god in marble stands, - With soul in every breathing line; - And forms the world has treasured long - Within me touched the world of song.” - - “Yet brighter than those radiant dreams - Which won renown that never dies— - Where more than mortal beauty beams - In sybil’s lips, and angel’s eyes— - One image, like the moonlight, seems - Between them and my heart to rise, - And in its brighter, dearer ray, - The stars of Genius fade away.” - -It is an interesting study and one not altogether unprofitable, to -follow, through an author’s works the marks of his peculiar likes, -joys, and sorrows. For in science, philosophy, history or poetry, the -feelings of the student will unguardedly creep into his manuscripts as if -between the lines, and often a little word, or a thoughtlessly inserted -sentence or comment, will reveal whole chapters of a life which has been -carefully, scrupulously hidden. So in Bayard Taylor’s poetry, written on -sea and on land, at home and abroad, in poverty and in affluence, there -is a certain vein of originality, and certain references to his own -life, which, when placed together, give the clew to his inner life, and -reveal a charming domestic scene, which cannot be described in prose. One -of his characters in “The Poet’s Journal,” says:— - - “Dear Friend, one volume of your life I read - Beneath these vines: you placed it in my hand - And made it mine,—but how the tale has sped - Since then, I know not, or can understand - From this fair ending only. Let me see - The intervening chapters, dark and bright, - In order, as you lived them.” - -To which another makes reply in the words below, which so delicately and -feelingly refer to his early love, his sorrow at the death of Mary, his -first wife, and the brightness of the later affection. To one who has -passed through the same trying experience, these lines are marvellously -expressive:— - - “What haps I met, what struggles, what success - Of fame, or gold, or place, concerns you less, - Dear friend, than how I lost that sorest load - I started with, and came to dwell at last - In the House Beautiful.” - - “You, who would write ‘_Resurgam_’ o’er my dead, - The resurrection of my heart shall know.” - - “For pain, that only lives in memory, - Like battle-scars, it is no pain to show.” - -Then he goes on to recite a tale so like his own, that it needs scarce -any change, but to substitute the names of himself, and those he loved, -for the fictitious names we find in the poems. But, before making further -quotation, the reader should be made acquainted with the circumstances -which prompted those illuminated lines. - -While Mr. Taylor was away, Miss Agnew gradually and surely declined -in health, until consumption, with all its terrible certainty and -serpent-like stealth, made her its victim. It was one of those -unaccountable visitations which sometimes come to the young and beautiful -in the midst of joy and perfect content. How sadly the news of her -sickness fell upon the heart of her lover, and how tenderly and anxiously -he prayed and waited for letters from her, which should contain better -tidings, he has himself related. Pale and weak, she greeted him on his -return from California, with the prediction that she could not live -beyond the falling leaves. No skill, no tender nursing, no charm of an -abiding love, could stay the hand of death, which, as unseen and secret -as the decay in a rose, gradually stole away her color, her beauty, and -her life. - -He felt that he must lose her; and the whole world, which had before -appeared so bright, became dark and chilly. The test showed that while -his ambition led him to see the great nations of the earth, to write -poems for posterity, and to write his name in italics on the scrolls of -fame, there was one solace, one comfort, one desire, which included all -the others and made them subservient. He was true to his plighted word. -He had become noted and prosperous, while she had remained at the country -farm-house in Kennett. He was the associate of Bryant, Greeley, Webster, -and Willis; she, the companion of the farmers and Quakers of Chester -County. But strong, manly, and honest, his love knew no abatement and his -respect felt no check. - -It is a touching picture—that simple, solemn marriage in the room of the -patient, an almost helpless invalid! He came to redeem his pledge; and -in that simple abode, with death standing just outside the door, with a -bride scarce able to whisper that she took him for her lawful spouse, he -became a husband. The dim, appealing eyes, the tender little flush in her -cheek, the tremor of her thin hand, told the joy in her pure heart, but -showed also that her happiness would be as brief as it was sincere. - -The marriage took place Oct. 24th, 1850, and on the 21st of the following -December his wife died. She lingered much longer than her friends -expected. At the marriage it was said that she could not live but a very -few days. Yet, so soon was it after their union, that the day which is -usually the happiest and the day which is usually the gloomiest in a -man’s life, came to him within ten weeks of each other. A year after -her death, he wrote a poem, “Winter Solstice,” in which he mentions his -bereavement:— - - “—For when the gray autumnal gale - Came to despoil the dying year, - Passed with the slow retreating sun, - As day by day some beams depart, - The beauty and the life of one, - Whose love made Summer in my heart. - - Day after day, the latest flower, - Her faded being waned away, - More pale and dim with every hour,— - And ceased upon the darkest day! - The warmth and glow that with her died - No light of coming suns shall bring; - The heart its wintry gloom may hide, - But cannot feel a second Spring. - - O darkest day of all the year! - In vain thou com’st with balmy skies, - For, blotting out their azure sphere, - The phantoms of my Fate arise: - A blighted life, whose shattered plan - No after fortune can restore; - The perfect lot, designed for Man, - That should be mine, but is no more.” - -Still later, he gave expression to his loneliness in that most pathetic -of all his writings, “The Phantom.” - - “Again I sit within the mansion, - In the old, familiar seat; - And shade and sunshine chase each other - O’er the carpet at my feet.” - - “And many kind, remembered faces - Within the doorway come,— - Voices, that wake the sweeter music - Of one that now is dumb. - - They sing, in tones as glad as ever, - The songs she loved to hear; - They braid the rose in summer garlands, - Whose flowers to her were dear. - - And still, her footsteps in the passage, - Her blushes at the door, - Her timid words of maiden welcome, - Come back to me once more.” - - “She stays without, perchance, a moment, - To dress her dark-brown hair; - I hear the rustle of her garments,— - Her light step on the stair!” - - “She tarries long: but lo! a whisper - Beyond the open door, - And, gliding through the quiet sunshine, - A shadow on the floor!” - - “But my heart grows sick with weary waiting - As many a time before: - Her foot is ever at the threshold, - Yet never passes o’er.” - -In his “Picture of St. John” he describes, with a feeling born of -experience, a scene like the closing one in the life of his wife. - - “Day by day - Her cheeks grew thin, her footstep faint and slow; - And yet so fondly, with such hopeful play - Her pulses beat, they masked the coming woe. - Joy dwelt with her, and in her eager breath - His cymbals drowned the hollow drums of death; - Life showered its promise, surer to betray, - And the false Future crumbled fast away. - - Aye, she was happy! God be thanked for this, - That she was happy!—happier than she knew, - Had even the hope that cheated her been true; - For from her face there beamed such wondrous bliss, - As cannot find fulfilment here, and dies.” - -Nearer the end of the same poem, he writes:— - - “With cold and changeless face beside her grave - I stood, and coldly heard the shuddering sound - Of coffin-echoes, smothered underground.” - -And still later he says, as only he can say who has felt it:— - - “My body moved in its mechanic course - Of soulless function: thought and passion ceased, - Or blindly stirred with undirected force,— - A weary trance which only Time decreased - By slow reductions.” - -A sonnet of that dark hour, written on a leaf of his diary, remains to -us, from which we quote two verses:— - - “Moan, ye wild winds! around the pane, - And fall, thou drear December rain! - Fill with your gusts the sullen day, - Tear the last clinging leaves away! - Reckless as yonder naked tree, - No blast of yours can trouble me.” - - “Moan on, ye winds! and pour, thou rain! - Your stormy sobs and tears are vain, - If shed for her whose fading eyes, - Will open soon on Paradise; - The eye of Heaven shall blinded be, - Or ere ye cease, if shed for me.” - -Here is another sad, sad wail, to be found in his “Autumnal Vespers”:— - - “The light is dying out o’er all the land, - And in my heart the light is dying. She, - My life’s best life, is fading silently - From Earth, from me, and from the dreams we planned, - Since first Love led us with his beaming hand - From hope to hope, yet kept his crown in store. - The light is dying out o’er all the land: - To me it comes no more. - - The blossom of my heart, she shrinks away - Stricken with deadly blight: more wan and weak - Her love replies in blanching lip and cheek, - And gentler in her dear eyes, day by day. - God, in Thy mercy, bid the arm delay, - Which thro’ her being smites to dust my own! - Thou gav’st the seed Thy sun and showers; why slay - The blossoms yet unblown? - - In vain,—in vain! God will not bid the Spring - Replace with sudden green the Autumn’s gold; - And as the night-mists, gathering damp and cold, - Strike up the vales where water-courses sing, - Death’s mist shall strike along her veins, and cling - Thenceforth forever round her glorious frame: - For all her radiant presence, May shall bring - A memory and a name.” - -Again, in “The Two Visions,” was the low moan of a poet’s stricken heart. - - “Through days of toil, through nightly fears, - A vision blessed my heart for years; - And so secure its features grew, - My heart believed the blessing true. - I saw her there, a household dove, - In consummated peace of love, - And sweeter joy and saintlier grace - Breathed o’er the beauty of her face.” - - “That vision died, in drops of woe, - In blotting drops, dissolving slow: - Now, toiling day and sorrowing night, - Another vision fills my sight. - A cold mound in the winter snow; - A colder heart at rest below; - A life in utter loneness hurled, - And darkness over all the world.” - -How accurately he portrayed his inner life, from the death of Mary to -his subsequent marriage, can only be understood by reading his poem of -“The Poet’s Journal” entire. But, as far as brief quotations may give it, -we will try to supply enough for the purposes of a book suck as this is -intended to be. In his despair he writes:— - - “And every gift that Life to me had given - Lies at my feet, in useless fragments trod: - There is no justice or in Earth or Heaven: - There is no pity in the heart of God.” - - ... - - “I pine for something human, - Man, woman, young or old— - Something to meet and welcome, - Something to clasp and hold. - - I have a mouth for kisses, - But there’s no one to give and take; - I have a heart in my bosom - Beating for nobody’s sake.” - - “The sea might rise and drown me,— - Cliffs fall and crush my head,— - Were there one to love me, living, - Or weep to see me dead!” - - ... - - “Last night the Tempter came to me, and said: - ‘Why sorrow any longer for the dead? - The wrong is done: thy tears and groans are naught: - Forget the Past,—thy pain but lives in thought. - Night after night, I hear thy cries implore - An answer: she will answer thee no more. - Give up thine idle prayer that Death may come - And thou mayst somewhere find her: Death is dumb - To those that seek him. Live: for youth is thine. - Let not thy rich blood, like neglected wine, - Grow thin and stale, but rouse thyself, at last, - And take a man’s revenge upon the Past.’” - - ... - - “This heart is flesh, I cannot make it stone: - This blood is hot, I cannot stop its flow, - These arms are vacant—whereso’er I go, - Love lies in other’s arms and shuns my own.” - - ... - - “Long, long ago, the Hand whereat I railed - In blindness gave me courage to subdue - This wild revolt: I see wherein I failed: - My heart was false, when most I thought it true, - My sorrow selfish, when I thought it pure. - For those we lose, if still their love endure - Translation to that other land, where Love - Breathes the immortal wisdom, ask in heaven - No greater sacrifice than we had given - On earth, our love’s integrity to prove. - If we are blest to know the other blest, - Then treason lies in sorrow.” - - ... - - “I had knelt, in the awful Presence, - And covered my guilty head, - And received His absolution, - For my sins toward the dead.” - - “Now first I dare remember - That day of death and woe: - Within, the dreadful silence, - Without, the sun and snow.” - - ... - - “When wild azaleas deck the knoll, - And cinque-foil stars the fields of home, - And winds, that take the white-weed, roll - The meadows into foam: - - Then from the jubilee I turn - To other Mays that I have seen, - Where more resplendent blossoms burn, - And statelier woods are green;— - - Mays, when my heart expanded first, - A honeyed blossom, fresh with dew; - And one sweet wind of heaven dispersed - The only clouds I knew. - - For she, whose softly-murmured name - The music of the month expressed, - Walked by my side, in holy shame - Of girlish love confessed.” - - “The old, old tale of girl and boy, - Repeated ever, never old: - To each in turn the gates of joy, - The gates of heaven unfold.” - - ... - - “So I think, when days are sweetest, - And the world is wholly fair, - She may sometime steal upon me - Through the dimness of the air, - With the cross upon her bosom - And the amaranth in her hair. - Once to meet her, ah! to meet her, - And to hold her gently fast - Till I blessed her, till she blessed me,— - That were happiness, at last: - That were bliss beyond our meetings - In the autumns of the Past!” - - ... - - “Still, still that lovely ghost appears, - Too fair, too pure, to bid depart; - No riper love of later years - Can steal its beauty from the heart.” - - “Dear, boyish heart that trembled so - With bashful fear and fond unrest,— - More frightened than a dove, to know - Another bird within its nest!” - - ... - - “Restored and comforted, I go - To grapple with my tasks again; - Through silent worship taught to know - The blessed peace that follows pain.” - - ... - - “If Love should come again, I ask my heart - In tender tremors, not unmixed with pain, - Couldst thou be calm, nor feel thine ancient smart, - If Love should come again?” - - “Couldst thou unbar the chambers where his nest - So long was made, and made, alas! in vain, - Nor with embarrassed welcome chill thy guest, - If Love should come again?” - - ... - - “Have I passed through Death’s unconscious birth, - In a dream the midnight bare? - I look on another and fairer Earth: - I breathe a wondrous air!” - - “Is it she that shines, as never before, - The tremulous hills above,— - Or the heart within me, awake once more - To the dawning light of love?” - - “Bathed in the morning, let my heart surrender - The doubts that darkness gave, - And rise to meet the advancing splendor— - O Night! no more thy slave.” - - ... - - “One thought sits brooding in my bosom, - As broodeth in her nest the dove; - A strange, delicious doubt o’ercomes me,— - But is it love?” - - “I see her, hear her, daily, nightly: - My secret dreams around her move, - Still nearer drawn in sweet attraction;— - Can this be love?” - - “I breathe but peace when she is near me,— - A peace her absence takes away: - My heart commands her constant presence; - Will hers obey?” - - ... - - “‘Canst thou forgive me, Angel mine,’ - I cried: ‘that Love at last beguiled - My heart to build a second shrine? - See, still I kneel and weep at thine, - But I am human, thou divine!’ - Still silently she smiled. - - “‘Dost undivided worship claim, - To keep thine altar undefiled? - Or must I bear thy tender blame, - And in thy pardon feel my shame, - Whene’er I breathe another name?’ - She looked at me, and smiled.” - - ... - - “No treason in my love I see, - For treason cannot dwell with truth: - But later blossoms crown a tree - Too deeply set to die in youth. - - The blighted promise of the old - In this new love is reconciled; - For, when my heart confessed its hold, - The lips of ancient sorrow smiled! - - It brightens backward through the Past - And gilds the gloomy path I trod, - And forward, till it fades at last - In light, before the feet of God, - - Where stands the saint, whose radiant brow - This solace beams, while I adore: - Be happy: if thou lovedst not now, - Thou never couldst have loved before!” - - ... - - “Would she, my freedom and my bliss to know, - With my disloyalty be reconciled, - And from her bower in Eden look below, - And bless the Soldan’s child? - - For she is lost: but she, the later bride, - Who came my ruined fortune to restore, - Back from the desert wanders at my side, - And leads me home once more. - - If human love, she sighs, could move a wife - The holiest sacrifice of love to make, - Then the transfigured angel of thy life - Is happier for thy sake!” - - ... - - “‘It was our wedding-day - A month ago,’ dear heart, I hear you say. - If months, or years, or ages since have passed, - I know not: I have ceased to question Time. - I only know that once there pealed a chime - Of joyous bells, and then I held you fast, - And all stood back, and none my right denied, - And forth we walked: the world was free and wide - Before us. Since that day - I count my life: The Past is washed away.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - - Grief and Despair.—Describes his Feelings.—Failing - Health.—Severe Mental Labor.—Decides to go to Africa.—Visits - Vienna.—Arrival at Alexandria.—Sails up the Nile.—Scenes - in Cairo.—The Pyramids.—The Lovely Nile.—An Important and - Pleasant Acquaintance.—A Lasting Friendship.—Learning the - Language.—Assuming the Costume.—Sights by the Way. - - -The great grief which Mr. Taylor felt when his wife died, was so deep -and keen that he was for many months unreconciled, and in a mental state -somewhat akin to despair. His appearance among his friends, whether at -Kennett or in the office of the “Tribune” at New York, did not, however, -betray his feelings so much as his private correspondence and occasional -poems. He was the sincerest of mourners; and his natural susceptibility -to every shade of emotion made this severe bereavement an occasion of -untold suffering. In his endeavors to banish the gloomy spectre, he -resorted to hard work. Hence, the first half of the year 1851 was one of -the busiest seasons of his life. He wrote early and late. He composed -poems and essays, wrote editorials, and edited correspondence, some of -it being the labor attached to his profession, but a great share of it -written to occupy his mind and shut out his affliction. - -His “Rhymes of Travel,” which had been published after his return from -California, called the attention of the reading public to him as a poet, -and there was a strong demand for another volume. His friends urged him -to write, his uneasy heart pushed him into work, and the newspapers kept -questioning him about the advent of a second volume, until he decided -to bring out his book of “Romances, Lyrics, and Songs.” There was one -poem in that volume which was very sweet when wholly disconnected with -history, but which becomes fascinating and sad as Milton’s lament for his -eyesight, when we once know the circumstances and the mental condition in -which it was written. Two verses of that poem were printed, as follows:— - - “Give me music, sad and strong, - Drawn from deeper founts than song; - More impassioned, full, and free, - Than the poet’s numbers be: - Music which can master thee, - Stern enchantress, Memory! - Piercing through the gloomy stress - Of thy gathered bitterness, - As the summer lightnings play - Through a cloud’s edge far away. - - Give me music; I am dumb; - Choked with tears that never come; - Give me music; sigh or word - Such a sorrow never stirred,— - Sorrow that with blinding pain - Lies like fire on heart and brain. - Earth and heaven bring no relief, - I am dumb; this weight of grief - Locks my lips; I cannot cry: - Give me music, or I die.” - -It was then that he wrote those pathetic lines, so full of his sadness -and so descriptive of his bereavement, that he was never satisfied with a -name for them and finally left them without a title, the first couplet of -which sufficiently indicates the tenor,— - - “Moan, ye wild winds! around the pane, - And fall, thou drear December rain!” - -Such a sorrowful heart and such an overworked brain were too great a -load for one human body to carry. His physical strength had never been -remarkable, and there had been seasons before his visit to Europe when -his health seemed permanently impaired. So when this great strain was -made upon his system it began to weaken. To continue the effort was -suicidal, and stoutly condemned by his relatives and friends. He then -recalled his exhilarating walks among the Alps and on the plains of -Europe. He kindled anew his zeal for adventure. He studied the map -of the world to decide where was presented the most favorable field -for discovery. He wished for rest from sorrow, and rest from close -application to literary work. Such a relief could only be found in a -climate and among a people wholly different from his own. In this choice -he was guided somewhat by a fortunate opportunity to cross the Atlantic -as a guest and friend, and by the accounts which a literary companion in -the office of the “Tribune” gave of the interesting people and scenery -along the coast of Palestine and Greece. - -The winter had passed and the soothing winds of summer seemed so -grateful and necessary, that he decided to pass the next winter on -the Mediterranean, should his health admit of the necessary outlay of -strength. In writing about that undertaking afterwards, he said a trip -into Africa would furnish good material for a travelling correspondent -and hence that continent was selected. “But,” he said, “there were -other influences acting upon me which I did not fully comprehend at the -time, and cannot now describe without going too deeply into matters of -private history.” But while in Central Africa, enjoying the invigorating -breezes along the Nile, he reveals a part of that private history by -an incidental exclamation published in a letter to the “Tribune.” “Oh! -what a rest is this from the tantalizing and sorrowful suggestions of -civilization.” He fled from sorrow—driven into the desert. - -Having reached Smyrna, on the coast of Asia Minor, by the overland -route to Constantinople _via_ Vienna, he re-embarked at that port for -Alexandria in Egypt, arriving at the latter place Nov. 1, 1851. We shall -not attempt here to give in any satisfactory detail the record of his -wanderings in Africa, as they are so charmingly and instructively told -in the book which he wrote concerning them, and as no book of travel in -Egypt, except a scientific work, can supplant or equal the many which -already honor our shelves. The writer having been over a large portion -of Mr. Taylor’s routes, and feeling much indebted to him for his -works, which were often used as guides, has perhaps a greater interest -in recording his travels, than the reader would have in going through -the story a second time. Hence, for the purposes of this outline sketch -of Mr. Taylor’s life, we shall introduce only such incidents and facts -connected with his wanderings as appear to have some direct or unusual -bearing upon his character, or which display some peculiarity of his -genius or taste. - -He said, in a letter to a friend in New York, that he “owed a debt -of gratitude” to the Providence which led him, to the country which -attracted him, and to the vessel which carried him from Smyrna to -Alexandria. That sentiment was awakened in his heart by the way in which -some of the important events in his after life pointed back to that trip -and to the valuable friend he met there. Mr. Taylor was of a genial, -approachable nature, and easily made the acquaintance of any person whom -he met. But having German blood in his veins, loving the German language, -and entertaining a sincere respect for German literature, he naturally -sought the company of the German people. On the very threshold of this -trip into Africa he made the acquaintance of a German gentleman, whose -culture and geniality made him a great acquisition in a strange land. -They seem to have taken a deep interest in each other from the first -time they met. It may be because their condition in life, socially and -circumstantially, was so similar; but the more reasonable explanation is -found in their similar tastes and equal regard for the works of genius -and the beauties of nature. It will be like a romance, when told in all -its detail, as it might be now, and will be when the present generation -passes away. How little could his human understanding comprehend the -great results turning upon the simple, common-place self-introduction -to a German travelling companion! This friend, whom he met, and with -whom he made the journey up to the cataracts of the Nile, was perhaps -as remarkable a man as Taylor, and belonged to a family of scholars -and long respected agricultural citizens of the German principality of -Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. - -The chief merit of Mr. Taylor’s descriptions lay in their apparent -frankness and their charming details. He appeared to think that every -reader was acquainted with the works of those great archæologists, -Lepsius and Champollion, and did not attempt to supply to his readers the -information they had already given. He seems to have imagined that all -the reading public wished to follow him, and he gave such information -as the tourist would need. He told about the clothes he purchased in -Alexandria, about the fit of his Arab attire, about the cost of a dinner, -the conversation between dragomen and boatmen, the personal appearance of -his companions, the faithlessness of his guide, the dirty appearance of -his boat, and the gorgeous sunset. He described his own sensations and -actions with the boldness of one unconscious of any motive to conceal or -deceive. He reveals the sorrow of his heart by occasional remarks such as -these: “For many months past I had known no mood of mind so peaceful and -grateful.”—“I am away from reminders of sorrow.”—“It is not the beauty of -the desert that gratifies me so much, in these days, after all, as the -absence of civilization.” - -The party, which consisted of Mr. Taylor, the German companion, and an -Italian, engaged one of the Nile boats, at Alexandria, for the trip up -the Nile, and after testing the comforts, or misery, of the Egyptian -hotels, seeing Cleopatra’s Needle (now in London) and Pompey’s Pillar, -which were then as in later years about all that there was to be seen -of interest in Alexandria, they started on their lazy voyage up the -wonderful Nile. He wrote with great enthusiasm of the sweet rest he found -in a pipe of tobacco, after the manner of all habitual smokers. He seems -to have had plenty of time to muse and smoke as he slowly ascended the -stream. It has often been a subject of wonder that he could afterwards -remember so many incidents and the impressions they had made on him, when -perhaps weeks of time and some more exciting transactions had intervened. -But Mr. Taylor did not wait long before recording his ideas and comments, -and was in the habit of keeping a memoranda-book always at hand, and -while travelling, noted with a pencil any peculiar thought or incident -which awakened attention. - -At Atfeh, which has been for hundreds of years an intermediate -stopping-place on the highway and river between Alexandria and Cairo, -he clambered up into the town and witnessed a marriage procession. He -appears to have been inclined to get a near view of the bride; but the -relatives hurried her off, and with cries and threatening gestures drove -him back to cover. But he decided that if he could not see the bride, he -would do the next best thing, and accordingly visited her father. The -disconsolate parent was being comforted by a hoarse chant and appeared to -be as cheerful as could be expected considering the din. - -At the town of Nadir he went into a low mud hut, which pretended to be -a cafe, and there saw the Egyptian fandango danced by the inmates. He -records the shape and sound of the musical instruments and with polished -and concise language pictured the scene to the reader’s eye. This, with -the accounts of the improvements, rates of toll, and the manner of -passing the boats by locks, and government officials, with many minor -details is told in a manner which, notwithstanding the dryness of the -subject, makes most fascinating reading. - -But he counted his entrance into Cairo, the capital of Egypt, as the -actual beginning of his tour into Africa. For at Alexandria and along -the Nile as far as Bourak the people exhibited some traits which connect -them with the civilized West. But Cairo is wholly Egyptian. The centuries -have made no apparent changes in the people. The donkeys, the veiled -women, the fierce Arabs, the water-skins, the fountains, the slaves, -the palms, the white domes, and the low shops revive the historical -associations and personify the Past. Like an oasis in the adjacent -desert was the Hotel d’Europe. But it served to impress the reality of -these surroundings more forcibly upon the travellers. With a readiness -and enjoyment which his companions did not share, he accustomed himself -to the manners and appearance of the people, and it was scarcely a day -before Mr. Taylor would smoke his perfumed chibouk, sit cross-legged, -and eat with his fingers like a native Arab. He rode the little donkeys -as well as any citizen of Cairo, and was even more reckless than they, -if that were possible, as he rode through the market-places at a furious -speed. The Egyptians, like the Germans, Italians, French, Hungarians, -and Syrians, felt a kind of fellowship for Mr. Taylor, and admired his -good-sense in appreciating and adopting so many of their customs. He was -the acquaintance and confidential friend of a dozen old Arabs before he -had been two days in Cairo. He was a lover of mankind. He sympathized -with them all. As the Shereef of Mecca rides by, Mr. Taylor admires his -dignity and his imposing retinue. As a marriage procession files through -the streets, he comments on the playing of the flutes, the crimson robes -of the bride, and the diadem, with the simplicity of a country maiden in -America. He enjoys the athletic tricks of the showmen, the skill of the -swordsmen, the voices of the singers, the zeal of the beggars, and the -endurance of the laborers. He is one of the same human family. They know -it, and feel it, and he is welcome. - -The German acquaintance, who had not intended to go farther than Cairo, -was so delighted with Mr. Taylor’s companionship and Mr. Taylor was so -interested in him, that he decided to go up the Nile as far as Assouan, -which was on the border of the Central African countries. Mr. Taylor -speaks with sentiments of enthusiastic thankfulness of his good fortune -in thus securing a travelling companion, whose tastes and sentiments were -so akin to his own. He little thought then, that while trying to shut -out his sorrow by voluntary exile, he was opening the door to a second -love. Mr. Taylor’s singular admiration and love for his companion is -almost unaccountable, unless we adopt some theory of foreordination or -providential design. - -A most interesting, amusing, and friendly trip they had up the stream, -for thousands of years so historic, in a boat manned by ten boatmen, -and of which they were the commanders. Neither of them had ever been -in Egypt before, but their maps and guide-books, coupled with their -early historical training, made the localities along their route seem -more familiar to them than to the dragomen, who made it a business to -guide travellers. They named their boat the “Cleopatra,” ran up the -Stars and Stripes to the peak, and, with contented minds but active -brains, enjoyed to the full the strange scenes and historic ruins which -showed themselves on every hand. They first visited the Pyramids, -where Mr. Taylor gratified his taste for climbing heights, and nearly -killed himself by rushing down. With characteristic regard for those -who were to come after him, Mr. Taylor rebuked the importunities of the -backsheesh-loving Arabs about the Pyramids, and obtaining no satisfaction -from them, he reported them to the chief, who compelled the greedy -desperadoes to submit to a severe whipping. - -They visited ancient Memphis, which the French explorer, Mariette, was -then exhuming, and trod the pavements over which had passed the feet -of Menes, Amasis, Pharaoh, Strabo, and Cambyses. They were hospitably -entertained by the great antiquarian, and felt that such a visit was -ample reward for all their outlay. From Memphis they proceeded to Siout, -and on the way talked, composed, and sung the praises of Father Nile. -It may be that Mr. Taylor’s mood, which he so often mentions, had an -influence upon his taste, or it may be that the season was one peculiarly -adapted to the exhibition of beauty in the Nile, but the writer, in a -later year, was not so charmed by the scenery and river as Mr. Taylor -appears to have been. No other traveller has written such glowing -encomiums upon the Nile as Mr. Taylor recorded in his letters, and either -he appreciated nature more than other travellers, or there was something -in his circumstances which placed a halo of beauty about the palms and -meadows. In the “Nilotic Drinking-Song” Mr. Taylor said:— - - “Cloud never gave birth, nor cradle the Earth, - To river so grand and fair as this is: - Not the waves that roll us the gold of Pactolus, - Nor cool Cephissus, nor classic Ilissus. - The lily may dip - Her ivory lip, - To kiss the ripples of clear Eurotas; - But the Nile brings balm - From the myrr and palm, - And the ripe, voluptuous lips of the lotus. - - The waves that ride on his mighty tide - Were poured from the urns of unvisited mountains; - And their sweets of the South mingle cool in the mouth, - With the freshness and sparkle of Northern fountains. - Again and again - The goblet we drain— - Diviner a stream never Nereid swam on: - For Isis and Orus - Have quaffed before us, - And Ganymede dipped it for Jupiter Ammon.” - -His admiration was not spasmodic, for he always mentioned the Nile as -the most majestic of rivers. To the majority of travellers, however, the -hoary ruins of mighty cities, the tombs of priests, and the pyramids of -kings are so much more exciting and mysterious, that the Nile is itself -of secondary importance. - -Yet, Mr. Taylor, with all his interest in the river, did not have -less in the celebrated localities and ancient remains. He ascended -many honeycombed mountains, to creep among the bones of men who lived -thirty-five hundred years ago. He gazed with a yearning interest upon the -broken columns of unknown temples, and dreamed of their former grandeur, -while apathetically overseeing the affairs of his little monarchy over -which he kept floating the Stars and Stripes. He became so absorbed -in the climate, the people, and the history of the land, that he soon -adopted the full costume of the country and became henceforth an Arab -with the others. He was marvellously quick in picking up the words and -phrases of any language, and soon, with the aid of a small phrase-book, -he could readily converse with the natives along the shore. These -characteristics made it safe and pleasant for him to travel where many -others would have found only misery and death. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - - Moslem Worship.—Scenery of the Nile.—Fellowship with - the People.—The Temple of Dendera.—Mr. Taylor’s - Enthusiasm.—Luxor.—Karnak.—The Extent of Ancient Thebes.—The - Tombs and Statues.—The Natives.—Arrives at Assouan.—The Island - of Philæ,—Separation of the Friends.—Starts for the White - Nile.—Trip through the Desert.—Again on the Nile.—Reception by - the People and Officials.—Visits Ancient Meroe. - - -Mr. Taylor’s sympathy with all mankind led him to regard with sincere -respect the daily religious ceremonies which his Moslem boatmen -performed, with their faces toward Mecca. He often mentioned their -punctuality and apparent sincerity, and contrasted it with some of the -formal, half-hearted proceedings in some Christian churches. His regard -for conscientious worship, which appeared to characterize the ignorant -Arabs, appears more striking to persons who have travelled the same -route over which Mr. Taylor went, for it is so common a sight to see -bigoted, conceited Europeans ridiculing the prostrations, prayers, and -gestures of the worshippers. The writer most keenly regrets having been -compelled to witness the caricaturing of a Moslem at prayer, by a coarse, -hard-hearted, brutal Christian countryman, while the sad and shocked -believers in Mahomet stood by, scarce able to resist the temptation to -throw the Frank into the Nile. In the lovable, noble character of Mr. -Taylor, there was no inclination to ridicule the conscientious belief of -any man, and instinctively he kept silent and patiently endured the delay -when the call to prayer took his employees from their labor. In return -for his sincere regard for them, he received the love and most faithful -service of the natives. They stole nothing from him. They shielded him -from enemies and affectionately cared for his health. - -Thus, with friends for boatmen, an admirer for a guide, and a most -agreeable comrade for a travelling companion, he floated along, inhaling -from every breeze the essence of health and comfort. The banks were -covered with the richest and rarest verdure, for it was the Egyptian -spring. There were luxuriant grasses, palms and sugar-cane; there -flourished wheat, cotton, maize, hemp, indigo, tobacco, oranges, olives, -and dates, springing from the richest soil which civilized man has yet -seen. Harvests came and went in confused succession; the ripe fruit -with blossom; threshing-floors piled with ripe dourra, while around, -the new wheat seeking the sunlight, betokened a bounty munificent and -inexhaustible. So prolific and speedy was the growth of the crops that -the people could not, with their rude implements, avail themselves of -the full benefits of one harvest before its rank successors forced them -to turn their labor into other channels. Then, as now, the fields, for -miles inland from the river, were checkered with canals, and the rude -water-wheel and awkward “well-sweep” were kept in constant motion to -supply the vast amount of water necessary to the irrigation of hundreds -of square miles. There were goats, mules, horses, and a variety of fowl, -and in the wild nooks a grand collection of birds of the gayest songs and -plumage. The sky was clear, the air balmy, the breezes cool and light, -the cabin of their boat was spacious, and their beds comfortable. It was -“a soothing experience for an aching heart.” - -In the first week of December they arrived at Dendera, where stands in -majestic completeness one of the most ancient temples of Egypt. It has -for thousands of years been half buried in the earth, and at one time -must have been nearly hid by the shifting sands of the desert which -once surrounded the pile. The impression which the gigantic columns, -sixty feet high, and the enormous blocks of stone, eight feet thick, -gave to them, is doubtless shared in some degree by all travellers. As -he walked through the shadowy recesses, each aperture seeming like a -deep cave in a rocky mountain, he was filled with a solemn sense of awe -and sadness, which so overwhelmed him that he peered about the avenues -in silence, and involuntarily stood on tip-toe. The sombre grandeur of -the massive masonry, the sacred associations connected with the ancient -worship of Osiris and Isis, the wonderful tales of wars, tyrannies, -famines, plagues, Rameses, Moses, Pharaoh, Alexander, Ptolemy, Cambyses, -and Napoleon, which those lofty statues could tell if their symmetrical -lips could speak, awaken indescribable emotions, deep, thrilling, and -permanent. Mr. Taylor saw a grace and an artistic merit in the stone -figures, and in the hieroglyphics that adorned the temple, which few -travellers detect or admit. To many travellers the figures on those old -porches and halls seem rude and often out of proportion, and the writer -confesses to having been one of the latter class. But Mr. Taylor’s -appreciating scrutiny may be accounted for on the basis that with his -poetical instincts and thorough culture in art, there were beauties in -those works of ancient sculptors, latent to others, but apparent and -striking to him. But there is no disagreement as to the unspeakable -solemnity of the place and the gloom of its lonely halls. - -The next night they reached Luxor, and caught the first glimpse of those -interesting ruins by moonlight. There, silent and stately, arose the -great Colonnade. There, quietly recalling the ancients, stood the twin -Obelisk to the one at which Mr. Taylor had often looked in the Place de -la Concorde in Paris, when as a boy he dreamed of distant Egypt. For -seven miles around the Temple of Luxor are the ruins of ancient Thebes, -within which were once the temples of Karnak, Luxor, Goorneh, Memnonium, -and hundreds more, which now cumber the otherwise fertile plains. -Thebes, with its hundred gates, with its countless armies, with its wise -men, its Colossus that sang in the morning sunlight, its avenues of -sphinxes and gods in stone, lay broken, spurned, and dead before them. -The same moon looked down on them that gazed on the priests of Isis and -the palace of its Cæsars. No one can imagine anything so solemn and grand -as to stand in the moonlight on the haunted plains of ancient Thebes! -One may have thought the Coliseum at Rome impressive beyond description -when seen in the favorable light of an autumn moon, but when compared -with Thebes it is tame and insignificant. Ages and ages before the -rape of the Sabines, these temples had been constructed. They saw the -morning of civilization; but now they are ruined and useless, the night -seems best fitted for an appreciative view of them. Among the mighty -colonnades whose columns are broken and falling, and around gigantic -remains of ancient statues carved from a mountain of stone, Mr. Taylor -wandered for two whole days. He scrutinized closely the long rows of -ancient tombs, and stood in the rocky grave of Rameses I. The pictures -on the walls of the tombs, the kind of rock, the original shape of the -temples, the employments of the ancient races, the blue sky overhead, -the clear atmosphere around, together with sketches of history and -poetical allusions, shared in the interesting letters which Mr. Taylor -wrote from Thebes. Such scenes contain an inspiration and an education -which make scholars and statesmen of such as love history and appreciate -the lessons those ruins teach. To one of Mr. Taylor’s disposition, a -visit to such a place was a privilege not to be lightly thrown away. He -investigated everything, and in a manner bordering on recklessness he -descended through small holes into dark subterranean tombs, and with -equal hardihood walked the crumbling roofs and cornices of the lofty -ruins. He looked with disgust on the evidences of spoliations which were -to be seen in splintered columns and fragments of ancient frescoes, and -which were the work of scientific explorers. He regarded with a jealous -anxiety the evidences of vandalism and decay, and wished sincerely -that time and man would allow those precious relics of the old régime -to remain forever intact. He appears to have regarded those massive -wrecks as half-human, and sympathized with their forsaken and friendless -condition. - -But in all this antiquarian excitement, which usually occupies the -undivided attention of less enthusiastic travellers, Mr. Taylor -neglected not the living. He witnessed with interest the graces of the -Arabian dancing-girls, noticed the features of the beggar-boys, the -methods of teaching children the Koran, and the worn appearance of the -water-carriers. - -Leaving Luxor, they spent three or four days ascending the river to -Assouan, and in visiting the villages, old temples, half-buried cities, -and gorgeously decorated tombs in the mountain-sides, which are almost -numberless in the valley of Upper Egypt. At Assouan, he was most -cordially received by the Governor and was given a friendly greeting -by all the officials he met. From that town he made several excursions -with his German friend, the most interesting of which was that to -the cataract of the Nile and the island of Philæ. There he saw the -celebrated temple of the time of the Ptolemies, which he looked upon as -modern, because it was not over twenty-two hundred years old. But he -felt sufficient interest in the ruins of the old city to describe that -marvellous colonnade which has astonished so many visitors to the island -of Philæ. The reader of his letters can detect, however, in Mr. Taylor’s -description of columns, aisles, roofs, walls, capitals, sculptures, -monoliths, and colossi, a vein of sadness which may have colored his -views. At all events the ruins of Philæ did not impress him as they seem -to have affected other visitors. The fact that he was so soon to part -with a companion for whom he felt a love like that of Jonathan for David, -may have had more or less influence upon his capacity to enjoy scenery -or the remains of antiquity: for the writer looked upon Philæ as one of -the most interesting localities of the lower Nile, and cannot but regard -the ruined temple as one of the grandest in Egypt. They visited the -fields, villages, the tombs, the ancient quarry, wherein half-sculptured -statues and columns still remain unmoved, and after a day of antiquarian -research they rode back to their boat, as he said “with heavy hearts.” -The next day came the hour of parting; and these two men, one a young -man, the other an elderly gentleman, who had been utter strangers forty -days before, now clung to each other with the sincerest brotherly love -and parted in tears. How little did Mr. Taylor think, as he saw the boat -sailing away for Cairo with the Saxe-Coburg colors at the peak, where he -had so long kept the Stars and Stripes, that they would meet again in the -sunny southern lands of Europe, and that another person would join their -company for life and make up what he termed “a sacred triad.” He thought -then that the parting might be for all time. He was going into an unknown -wilderness, while his friend sought again the lands of civilization: -it was a long time before either could dispel the gloom which their -separation left about them. - -[Illustration: PHILÆ COLONNADE.] - -Mr. Taylor took another boat at Assouan and proceeded to Korosko, -where, with the assistance of the Governor and a wild Arab chieftain, -whose friendship was purchased by presents and sociability, he secured -the necessary camels and outfit for a trip across the desert. It was a -hazardous undertaking for a stranger, alone, unknown, to traverse the -desert. If he was murdered, none of the authorities would care, nor -would his death become known. He might contract the terrible fever. He -was liable to be eaten by wild beasts, and he ran great risk of dying -of thirst or hunger on the hot sands of a trackless desert. The way had -been travelled many times before, but was all the more dangerous because -of the opportunity it gave robbers to lie in wait for tourists. But he -unhesitatingly entered upon the journey, trusting in the friendship of -his Nubian and Arabian servants, and in his own ability to withstand -the heat of the sands and the attacks of African fever. Camping in the -desert sands, riding a dromedary in the scorching sun, living upon -rudely prepared food, drinking lukewarm water, with the sight of bones -and carcasses by the way to warn him, and the occasional appearance of -sickly returning caravans to dishearten him, he passed that arm of the -desert between the first cataract of the Nile and Abou-Hammed. Thence -his little caravan of six camels followed the winding river to a small -town, El Mekheyref, where he dismissed his friendly companions, excepting -one, who had accompanied him from Cairo, and set sail again on the Nile. -Everywhere he was received with kindness and hospitality by the natives -and by the Governors. His servants were so much interested in his welfare -that they told the natives that he was a high official in the country -from which he came, and he was treated with the respect the Eastern -people think is due to persons of high rank. All disclaimers from him -were considered to be actuated by feelings of modesty and elevated him in -the estimation of his entertainers. - -His visit to Meroe was an interesting episode in his long pilgrimage, -although he did not make such diligent search as an antiquarian among its -crumbling walls as he had done in some of the other ancient cities. Yet -his descriptions of that place are most vivid pictures and convey an idea -of the topography of the capital of that ancient kingdom in a manner most -readable to the stranger and very important to students of history. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - - From Meroe to Khartoum.—Twenty-seventh Birth-day.—Desire to - Explore Central Africa.—Ascent of the White Nile.—Adventure - with the Savage Shillooks.—Visits the Natives.—Return to - Khartoum.—Crossing the Desert.—Parting with Friends.—Descent of - the Nile.—Arrival at Cairo. - - -The journey from Meroe to Khartoum on the Ethiopian Nile, Mr. Taylor -enjoyed very much, having little to do but amuse the sailors and be in -turn amused with stories of Mohammed, of Haroun-al-Raschid, and the -oriental wonders contained in songs and traditions. The climate gave him -health, his genial good-nature brought him friends, and his experience -would supply the necessities of life in after years. There were narrow -escapes from animals, men, and treacherous rapids; but he had become -accustomed to such things, and assumed enough of the Arab character to -exclaim with them, at each escape, “It is the will of Allah.” The day -before he arrived at Khartoum was Mr. Taylor’s twenty-seventh birthday. - -Having letters to many of the officials of Khartoum, which was a military -and trading station at the junction of the Blue and the White Nile, he -received a cordial welcome, which made him feel at once that he was -among friends. He was then at the extreme outskirts of civilization. -All beyond was dark and unknown. Trading caravans consisting of Arabs -and natives often visited the interior, and small boats frequently went -farther up the Nile for purposes of traffic. But there was little known -about the people, the topography of the country, or of the course of the -Nile. There was a Catholic mission at Khartoum, where the missionaries -treated Mr. Taylor with great consideration and kindness. Some of them -had made exploring excursions into the wilds of Central Africa, and it -was his hope that he could get into some expedition with them during that -season. But in that he was disappointed. None of the missionaries were -intending to visit the tribes to the south that season, and no other -suitable opportunity presented itself. He did not give up the hope of -seeing the unexplored regions of the interior, until he had exhausted -every means in his power for procuring a fit escort. The unfortunate -combination of circumstances, which prevented him from searching for -the sources of the Nile, postponed the revelations which he would have -made, until they were unfolded by another newspaper correspondent, H. M. -Stanley. - -So persistent was Mr. Taylor in his purpose to travel beyond the -boundaries of the known, that he resolved to go up the White Nile alone, -except a few servants. He had met Captain Peele, whose accounts of the -curiosities to be found farther inland made him the more anxious to get a -glimpse beyond. So he hired a boat, and amid the doubts of his servants -and the misgivings of his new-found friends, he set sail up the White -Nile. He could not hire the boatmen for a long voyage, as they feared -the fierce cannibals of the interior, and as they were going beyond the -protection of any military force. Trusting to his persuasive powers, he -started with them, deciding to go just as far as he could get them to -accompany him. - -On a lone river, where no other sail was to be seen; in a wilderness, -where even the human beings were as the lions and hyenas; with no friend -of his own race near him, he sailed on, in confidence, never seeming -to think that he might die there alone and never be heard of by his -relatives again. Crocodiles, hippopotami, and giraffes flourished there, -and man was the plaything of both elements and beasts. Through the -wildest scenery, among the strangest birds and animals, he pursued his -course, trembling night and day lest his crew should at any moment refuse -to go farther. - -At last they came to the country of the Shillooks. That wild tribe of -negroes was known to the boatmen through nursery tales and traditional -stories, wherein the savages were given very bad names; and when Mr. -Taylor informed them that he purposed to visit the village of those -horrid man-eaters, they regarded him with looks of the most profound -astonishment. But with a hardihood that by its boldness secured -acquiescence, he commanded them to row him to the banks of the Nile, -where the long rows of primitive huts were to be seen. Through captives -and merchants the kingdom of the Shillooks had become partially known, -and a kind of jargon, like the pigeon-English of the Chinese, served the -purposes of communication. One of Mr. Taylor’s company could talk with -them slightly, and with him as an interpreter, and another servant for a -protector, he walked boldly into the village of the savages, taking no -weapons, lest he should create suspicion. But they received him coldly -and with much show of suspicion and treachery. It was a most dangerous -experiment, and it is a matter of wonder that he was allowed to depart. -There were large numbers of armed men around him, brandishing spears and -clubs, and demanding of him all sorts of impossible presents. But with a -calmness and seeming confidence, Mr. Taylor smoked with the chief, and -exchanged presents with the subordinate officials, until they became -friendly and docile, laying down their weapons and conversing cheerfully -through the interpreter. Yet they laid a plan for plundering the party, -and would at the last perhaps have murdered the whole crew, had not Mr. -Taylor most adroitly and coolly foiled them in their designs. - -All attempts to persuade his men to go farther were useless. No urging, -no promise of gifts, no threats would induce them to sail farther -south, as they believed that it was but a little way to “the end of the -world.” How eagerly he yearned for some chance to explore the country -beyond, he often mentioned in after life. He was at the centre of a -mighty continent. Locked and bolted it had been for all the ages, and -it appeared as if the door was now open and he had only to walk in to -discover its treasures. But alas! he could not go on alone. He could not -swim the length of the river, nor find his way among the elephants and -lions of the jungle. The boat turned back toward Khartoum, and he had no -choice but to return with it. - -However, he made the most of the trip, and frequently visited the shore -and had some very pleasant and instructive interviews with the tribes -who live in that region. At one place he visited a village of the -Hassaniyehs, and contrary to the experience of many other travellers, -he was cordially invited to their circle and treated with sincere -hospitality. He mentioned in his book the dance of welcome which the -young women of the village performed before him, and described with -interesting detail their motions, features, forms, voices, and habits. -Thus, with visits to savages, interviews with wild beasts, and exquisite -views of the wildest scenery ever beheld by man, he floated back to the -friends and dwellings of Khartoum. - -His stay in Khartoum, on his return, was brief, because of the -approaching sickly season; but every hour of his time, when awake, was -occupied in visiting and being visited. Native chiefs, Arab merchants, -holy men of the Moslem faith, Catholic priests, princesses, soldiers, -consuls, boatmen, and tame lions, seemed equally at home in his -presence; and his stay was a most delightful one for all concerned. -His parting with his friends at Khartoum was akin to the separation of -life-long friends, or the breaking of a family circle. To him the whole -world was kin. - -[Illustration: SCENE IN NORTH AFRICA.] - -From Khartoum he travelled in a caravan of camels, chartered by him -for an escort, leaving the Nile and striking into the desert. With -camel-drivers hard to control, with a burning sun overhead, and sands -nearly as hot beneath, he traversed the desert unharmed. Once he slept -with a deadly snake under his blanket, unconscious of his fearful danger -until he rolled up his blanket in the morning. The open air, the free -sun, sleeping on the sand, and eating the coarse food of the natives, -gave him a vigor and healthy delight which inconveniences and dangers -could not overcome. Sometimes the heat was so intense that the skin of -his face peeled off, and once or twice he felt the effects of “the desert -intoxication,” resulting from the monotonous scene and terrible heat. It -was a dizzy sensation, and is often thought to be a symptom of dangerous -disease. Changing camels at intermediate stations, and visiting the ruins -of ancient cities and fortresses, where he found them cropping out of the -sand or adorning some rugged mountain, he travelled on to Abdom, Dongola -and Wady-Halfa, where he embarked in a boat for Assouan. His parting -with his old dromedary, and with his guides, at Wady-Halfa, is mentioned -by him with the same regret that he experienced in leaving his other -friends. But his farewell, in Cairo, to his trusted servant Achmet, who -had been his faithful companion from Cairo up the Nile and back, drew -tears from the eyes of both. - -His voyage from Wady-Halfa to Cairo was so nearly like his trip up the -Nile, that for the purposes of this work it is necessary only to say -that he visited many scenes and many ruins which were omitted on his -way up the river, and refreshed his memory by a second visit to the -most celebrated localities. He met many travellers, and heard from -civilization again, arriving in the capital of Egypt on the first day of -April, 1852, in excellent spirits and in good health, save a troublesome -soreness of the eyes, caused by the reflection of the sun on the water. -The thin and frail body had assumed a fullness and strength surprising to -note, and the broken heart had so accustomed itself to its load of grief -that the weight seemed lighter than at first. - -On the Nile he wrote a poem containing among others, these expressive -lines:— - - “Mysterious Flood,—that through the silent sands - Hast wandered, century on century, - Watering the length of green Egyptian lands, - Which were not, but for thee,—” - - “Thou guardest temple and vast pyramid, - Where the gray Past records its ancient speech; - But in thine unrevealing breast lies hid - What they refuse to teach.” - - “What were to thee the Osirian festivals? - Or Memnon’s music on the Theban plain? - The carnage, when Cambyses made thy halls - Ruddy with royal slain?” - - “In thy solemnity, thine awful calm, - Thy grand indifference of Destiny, - My soul forgets its pain, and drinks the balm - Which thou dost proffer me.” - - —_Taylor._ - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - - Departure from Egypt.—A Poet in Palestine.—Difference - in Travellers.—Mr. Taylor’s Appreciation.—First View of - Tyre.—Route to Jerusalem.—The Holy City.—Bath in the Dead - Sea.—Appearance of Jerusalem.—Samaria.—Looking down upon - Damascus.—Life in the eldest City.—The Bath.—Dose of - Hashish.—Being a Turk among Turks. - - - “The Poet came to the Land of the East, - When Spring was in the air: - The earth was dressed for a wedding feast, - So young she seemed, and fair; - And the poet knew the Land of the East— - His soul was native there. - - All things to him were the visible forms - Of early and precious dreams,— - Familiar visions that mocked his quest - Beside the Western streams, - Or gleamed in the gold of the clouds, unrolled - In the sunset’s dying beams.” - - —_Taylor_, 1852. - -If there is any land where every grain of sand and every blade of grass -is pervaded by thrilling associations, that land is Palestine. Especially -and peculiarly animated are its hills and vales to a poet such as Taylor -proved to be. It may be that some superficial and matter-of-fact people -who have visited the Holy Land in the hot season, have not felt the charm -of its sacredness, owing to heat, barrenness, vermin, and beggars. There -may be a small class of iconoclastic jokers, who, caring not how holy or -tender the theme, never fail to use it for ridicule, if it suits their -humoristic purpose. But the large class of travellers who visit Jerusalem -and the country round about, feel the inspiring presence of the Past, -and enjoy in an indescribable fullness the associations connected with -it. In a higher and nobler degree, the mind imbued with poetic images, -a ready imagination, and a keen discernment of beauty in landscape or -history, will avail itself of the great opportunities for pleasure and -profit which such a land supplies. In this sense Mr. Taylor enjoyed a -great advantage. He made his physical being so subordinate to his mental, -that no fatigue, no hunger, no thirst, no annoyance from beggars, nor -fears of robbers, could interfere with the appreciation of the beautiful. -How greatly he enjoyed his visit to Palestine, none but intimate friends -ever knew. In his letters, he often gave way to enthusiastic expressions, -and in his book, often gave very vivid descriptions of what had been, -as well as that which then existed. But a fear of exaggeration through -praise, and a modest misgiving lest his poetical fancy should not suit -his readers, led him to write in a more prosy vein than he talked. In -conversation with friends in Germany and America, and often in his -lectures, after he had finished his tours, he graphically pictured the -impressive events of the past connected with Palestine, which seemed -to pass like a panorama before him. To him, such a land would be full -of interest, whether he trod its fields at a time of the year when it -was luxuriant, or at a season when the sun and simoon have made it a -desert. To lie upon its burning sands and dream of the sweltering hosts -that fought around the spot; to bask in the cool shades of its olives -and cedars, and think of Gethsemane and the sweets of Sharon; to stand -on the summit of the Mount of Olives, Carmel, or Hermon, and realize the -almost overwhelming fact that before him were the plains, hills, valleys, -conquered and reconquered since man was made, and which were peopled by -the great, the good, the wild, and the bloodthirsty of every age; to -recognize the localities where dwelt or fought the heroes of Holy Writ; -to feel the presence of the King of kings as “on mysterious wings” he -swept the plain and shielded his people; to walk on the very path whereon -the Son of God had often placed his feet; to dream in the starlight of -Apostles, priests, Romans, Crusaders, and Saracens, was an experience -especially gratifying to him, and interesting to a greater or less degree -to all travellers. The writer recalls, perhaps in an imperfect form, a -verse which Mr. Taylor wrote during his stay in Palestine, and which came -to the writer with singular force while carelessly wandering along the -valley between Jerusalem and the Mount of Olives. - - “Thy strength, Jerusalem, is o’er, - And broken are thy walls; - The harp of Israel sounds no more - In thy deserted halls: - But where thy Kings and Prophets trod, - Triumphant over death, - Behold the living soul of God,— - The Christ of Nazareth! - The halo of his presence fills - Thy courts, thy ways of men; - His footsteps on thy holy hills - Are beautiful as then; - The prayer, whose bloody sweat betrayed - His human agony, - Still haunts the awful olive-shade - Of old Gethsemane.” - -To him the past was real. He saw the fields of corn, the ancient -olive-trees, the high walls, and the high towers, upon which the Saviour -looked. He saw again Abraham, Samuel, Saul, David, Isaiah, Jeremiah, -Pilate, and their associates. He walked in imagination in the welcoming -crowd as they strewed the branches along the path from Bethany to -Jerusalem. He saw the council chamber, the cross, and the ascension. He -dreamed of the gathering armies at Antioch and Joppa, whose banners at -last waved over the palace of Godfrey of Bouillon in Jerusalem. To him -the gates of history swung wide open, and he wandered back through the -centuries, meeting patriarch and maiden, shepherd and warrior, prophet -and judge, seer and apostle, in a companionship social and confidential. -It was like long generations of experience to walk those hallowed fields -and realize the wonderful tales of history. In this, as much as in the -views of the present, is found the profit resulting from travel in such -lands. One lives over the tales of which he has read, with each locality -serving as a fresh reminder of the unnoted details. He is an old man in -experience who has travelled in the right spirit over those eldest lands -of the world; and few indeed is the number of tourists who can feel that -they have done so. - -Mr. Taylor, like Longfellow, Tennyson, and Scott, had a gift of looking -through the present into the past, and held delightful communion with -the old days. Trying, however, with a laudable desire to instruct his -readers, he kept studiously close to the simple facts of his actual -experience, and in his narrative seldom allowed himself to fall into -poetical expressions. - -He left Egypt about the middle of the month of April and landed at -Beyrout, which was not at that time, nor since, a very attractive -locality. It was made more unpleasant to him by an incarceration in a -kind of prison called the “Quarantine.” But with a resignation worthy -of the oldest Turk, he made the best of his circumstances, and judging -by the account he has given of it, he had an easy, jolly time of it. -Released from the prison he travelled down the shore of the Mediterranean -to Tyre, with whose remnant he seems to have been deeply impressed. The -old Tyre, with its fleets, with its enormous stocks of merchandise, -with its lofty piles of cedar timber, with its gorgeous purple robes, -with its bulwarks and battlements, with its armed defenders and hosts -of besiegers, arose from its crumbled fragments and passed through the -panoramic changes which so startle the student of Syrian history. - -After leaving the village which now replaces the ancient city, he rode -down the sandy shore and composed a poem which was afterwards somewhat -changed, but in which was retained the boldness of the waves, which then -beat at his feet. - - “The wild and windy morning is lit with lurid fire; - The thundering surf of ocean beats on the rocks of Tyre,— - Beats on the fallen columns and round the headland roars, - And hurls its foamy volume along the hollow shores, - And calls with angry clamor, that speaks its long desire: - ‘Where are the ships of Tarshish, the mighty ships of Tyre?’ - - Within her cunning harbor, choked with invading sand, - No galleys bring their freightage, the spoils of every land, - And like a prostrate forest, when autumn gales have blown, - Her colonnades of granite lie shattered and o’erthrown; - And from the reef the pharos no longer flings its fire, - To beacon home from Tarshish, the lordly ships of Tyre.” - - “Where is the wealth of ages that heaped thy princely mart? - The pomp of purple trappings; the gems of Syrian art; - The silken goats of Kedar; Sabæa’s spicy store; - The tributes of the islands thy squadrons homeward bore, - When in thy gates triumphant they entered from the sea - With sound of horn and sackbut, of harp and psaltery.” - - “Though silent and forgotten, yet Nature still laments - The pomp and power departed, the lost magnificence: - The hills were proud to see thee, and they are sadder now; - The sea was proud to bear thee, and wears a troubled brow, - And evermore the surges chant forth their vain desire: - ‘Where are the ships of Tarshish, the mighty ships of Tyre?’” - -One of the most sublime experiences of life is to stand where he stood, -with the great waves rolling up the beach and shaking the earth with -their powerful surges, and with the spray breaking about the dark ruins -of the ancient city, and there repeat the poem from which the above -verses are taken. It gives power and life to the words which can never -be felt or seen by those who have never heard the bellowings or felt the -shocks of the Mediterranean surf. - -From Tyre he ascended Mount Carmel, and following the shore to Jaffa, -took the usual route to Jerusalem. It was the most pleasant season of the -year (April), and all vegetation was fast springing into its bountiful -life. The cactus, orange, and pomegranate were in bloom, and all nature -seemed in its most cheerful mood. So like a paradise did it look to him, -that it was some little time before he could get into that frame of mind -which brought a realization that he was in that land of great renown. But -as that thrilling moment arrived when he stepped upon the highest plateau -of the mountains near Jerusalem and looked with astonished eyes over the -valley and on the “City of our God and the mountain of his holiness,” -he felt, with a sudden thrill, that he was in the presence of the Great -and the Holy. With emotions that cannot be described he rode over those -sacred fields and entered the gates of the city. - -From Jerusalem he made an excursion, by the way of Bethany, to the Dead -Sea. It was a sultry day, and he suffered much from the heat, having -therein a suggestion of the rain of fire and brimstone which destroyed -the cities whose ruins are supposed to be petrified at the bottom of -the Dead Sea. With his usual hardihood he plunged fearlessly into the -bituminous waters of the Dead Sea, and seemed to enjoy what no traveller -who has since indulged in that bath is known to have enjoyed, the -buoyance of the water and the sensations caused by the volcanic materials -held in solution. - -On his return to the city he remained for several days examining the -sacred localities and contending with the crowds of beggars and guides -who blocked the narrow and filthy streets of Jerusalem. The wretchedness, -poverty, disease, and filth of the people are so prominent and so -loathsome, that unless the ordinary traveller keeps constantly on his -guard, he will forget all the old and holy associations in his disgust -for the city of to-day. It is said that the city is less dirty and less -stricken with disease than it was in 1850. If such be the fact, it is -a marvel indeed how Mr. Taylor ever found a fit place for his Muse, -which so frequently visited him there. He seems, however, to have been -deeply interested in everything, having about as little faith in what -the guides told him about the locality of the Holy Sepulchre, Calvary, -Gethsemane, and the true cross, as travellers in more modern times -appear to entertain. Jerusalem was not only all that we have represented -it to be outwardly, but the people would lie beyond the fables of any -other people; would steal and would murder. To be much troubled by these -facts would destroy the poetry of the place, and Mr. Taylor allowed none -of those things to move him. He wrote of the facts as he found them, -uncolored by the imagination, and seems to have flattered himself that he -was not as sentimental as the travellers who had preceded him. If he was -so very practical, whence such beautiful poetry? - - “Fair shines the moon, Jerusalem, - Upon the hills that wore - Thy glory once, their diadem - Ere Judah’s reign was o’er: - The stars on hallowed Olivet - And over Zion burn, - But when shall rise thy splendor, set? - Thy majesty return?” - -On the 7th of May he left Jerusalem, in company with another traveller -and the mule-drivers, taking the route by way of Samaria to Nazareth -through a country at that season covered with the richest and freshest -foliage. Along the entire route the tourist seldom passes out of sight -of broken columns, falling fortresses, gray old monasteries, dismal -hermitages, and Roman masonry. The olive and fig trees shaded the path, -and with the wide fields of grain gave the appearance of thrift and -enterprise. He visited Shechem, where it is said that Joseph was buried, -and near which he was thrown into the pit by his brethren. There Mr. -Taylor saw Samaritans of the original stock, and there he was shown an -ancient manuscript of Hebrew Law, said to be three thousand years old. - -He made a short stop at Nazareth and was shown where the mother of Christ -had resided, the table from which Christ ate, and the school-room (?) in -which Christ is said to have been taught. - -Going thence he ascended Mount Tabor, as it was his custom to climb all -the mountains he could reach, and then hastened on to the Sea of Galilee. -There he swam in its crystal water, and visited the Mount of Beatitudes, -Joseph’s Well, and Magadala, the home of Mary Magdalene. Passing Cesarea -Philippi, and crossing the anti-Lebanon range of mountains in imminent -danger of robbery and death from the rebellious tribes of Druses which -inhabited that region, they came out on the afternoon of May 19th in view -of the lovely city of Damascus. - -Mr. Taylor made a sketch of himself as he appeared in his Eastern -costume, while seated on an eminence that afternoon, overlooking the most -ancient city in the world. In one of the rooms of Mr. Taylor’s lovely -home of Cedarcroft there hangs a large painting, of considerable merit, -and said to be an excellent portrait, which was executed by a friend -from that sketch. It represents Mr. Taylor sitting in Oriental posture, -on the mountain-side, with the domes, minarets, and embowered walls of -Damascus on the distant plain. He always held that painting to be a -treasure, connecting him, as it did, with those scenes of early travel, -and with the friend who made the painting, and with those who admired it. - -He was delighted with Damascus. It was placed in the centre of a plain -whereon grew in the greatest abundance all the fruits and all the -varieties of leaf and blossom known to the tropic zone. No other spot -yet explored can boast such beautiful trees; such a profusion of roses; -such blossoms of jessamine and pomegranate; such loads of walnuts, figs, -olives, apricots; such luxuriant grasses, and such productive fields, as -that land which has been cultivated by man the longest. Nature has set -the crown upon Damascus and blessed it with a superabundance of vegetable -life. But what is given to verdure seems to be taken from humanity, for, -regarded as a whole, he found the people of the city to be a rather bad -lot. Yet there, as elsewhere, he found agreeable companions and warm -friends. He made himself so much at home that he soon appeared like a -native, and all the labyrinths of bazars and alleys were as familiar to -him after a few days’ stay as they seemed to be to the oldest resident. -He liked their life so well that he soon learned to enjoy to its full -the physical comfort and mental rest of the Turkish bath. He ever after -referred to the bath at Damascus as the acme of bodily satisfaction. -The fact that so many travellers have been disappointed in the enjoyment -of the bath does not show Mr. Taylor’s account to be so much overdrawn, -as it shows the difference between the pleasure to be derived from the -pastimes of any people by those who adhere more or less to their own -tastes and customs, and those who, like Mr. Taylor, fall wholly and -heartily into the ways and thoughts of the native. When in Damascus, -he not only did as they do outwardly, but he set his mind in the same -channel, and knew what it was to be a Turk in aspirations as well as in -dress. No other traveller known to literature ever entered so completely -into the experience and social companionship of the people whom he -visited. - -In order that he might leave no habit untried which came within his -reach, he took a potion of hashish, to test its strength and effects. The -drug did not begin to intoxicate him quite as soon as he expected, and -he doubled the dose, thus taking six times as much as would intoxicate -an ordinary Turk. It made him terribly ill; and it was almost miraculous -that he survived the shock to his system. He did not try the strength of -that drug again. Among the friends he made, and whose home he visited -at Damascus, was a family of Maronite Christians, who, eight years -later, were heinously butchered by the Moslems during the great massacre -following the Druses’ and Marnoites’ dispute in 1860. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - - Leaving Damascus.—Arrival at Beyrout.—Trip to - Aleppo.—Enters Asia Minor.—The Scenery and People.—The - Hills of Lebanon.—Beautiful Scenes about Brousa.—Enters - Constantinople.—A Prophesy.—Return to Smyrna.—Again - in Italy.—Visits his German Friend at Gotha.—The - Home of his Second Love.—Goes to London.—Visits - Gibraltar.—Cadiz.—Seville.—Spanish History. - - - “Upon the glittering pageantries - Of gay Damascus streets I look - As idly as a babe, that sees - The painted pictures of a book.” - - —_Taylor’s Oriental Idyl._ - -From Damascus Mr. Taylor journeyed to Baalbec, where are the most -imposing ruins to be found in Syria, and where stand six of the most -symmetrical and exquisitely carved columns to be seen in Asia or Europe. -He described the temples and fragments so vividly, that travellers who -have taken his “Lands of the Saracen” for a guide have seldom been -disappointed or mistaken in their anticipations, the actual scene they -look upon being so like the image they formed in their minds while -reading his description. The gift of portraying through the combination -of words and sentences an accurate picture of a city existing in a -strange land and amid a strange people, is a rare gift, and the number -is very few of those who are found to possess it. Mr. Taylor was one of -those privileged ones. In his description we see the columns, cornices, -pediments, walls, platforms, broken pillars, and falling pavilions as -distinctly as they appear when we afterwards look upon those romantic -piles with the natural eye. To him, as to others, it was a study to -determine, if possible, how such enormous blocks of stone, sixty-two feet -long and ten feet in diameter, could have been transported and placed in -the buildings. It is beyond all the skill of to-day to move nine thousand -tons of stone in a single block with the conveniences of that time. - -From Baalbec he ascended the Lebanon range of mountains, and looked over -the land from the snowy peak of one of its lofty summits. He visited the -sacred cedars which have lived on the mountain-side for three thousand -years, and then rode on through chasms, along cliffs, and by the sweetest -and richest dells, until he descended to the plain of Beyrout. - -His appreciation of the hills of Lebanon is more clearly seen in his -poetry than in his prose. For, when writing of them afterwards, he said:— - - “Lebanon, thou mount of story, - Well we know thy sturdy glory, - Since the days of Solomon; - Well me know the Five old Cedars, - Scarred by ages,—silent pleaders, - Preaching in their gray sedateness, - Of thy forest’s fallen greatness, - Of the vessels of the Tyrian - And the palaces Assyrian - And the temple on Moriah - To the High and Holy One! - Know the wealth of thy appointment— - Myrrh and aloes, gum and ointment; - But we knew not, till we clomb thee, - Of the nectar dropping from thee,— - Of the pure, pellucid Ophir - In the cups of vino d’oro, - On the hills of Lebanon!” - -In that city he laid his plans for the future, and abandoned his -purposed trip to the Euphrates and Tigris. He relinquished the design -to visit Assyria with great reluctance, and decided to pass through the -interior of Asia Minor to Constantinople. Acting immediately upon this -resolution, without an apparent doubt of being able to traverse safely -the unknown interior of Asia Minor, he engaged a vessel and sailed up -the coast to the Orontes River, and thence to Aleppo. In that city, by a -ludicrous mistake, Mr. Taylor and his travelling companion were invited -to the house of one of the wealthiest merchants, and were treated with -the greatest hospitality by the owner, who supposed they were titled -Englishmen. But when the mistake was revealed, Mr. Taylor had become such -an agreeable visitor that his host insisted upon entertaining them during -their stay in Aleppo. He had been there but a few days before he became -such a general favorite, that he was invited to call on the nobility, -was urged to attend feasts, balls, and weddings, and when he left the -city, the friendly regrets of hundreds of Moslems and Christians followed -him. - -Leaving Aleppo early in June, he followed the shore of the Mediterranean -around to the plain of Issus, where Alexander the Great won his great -victory, and thence to Tarsus, the birthplace of the Apostle Paul. It -may have been “no mean city” when Paul was born, but it was a most -insignificant village when Mr. Taylor was there. But as the magnificent -mountains of the Taurus range loomed up along the northern horizon, his -attention was taken from rags, beggary, and ruined fortresses, to snowy -cliffs, over which he had a passion for clambering. - -Those persons who have ascended the Alps at the Simplon pass, have a -very good idea of the Taurus mountains, and can realize somewhat of Mr. -Taylor’s satisfaction as he rode up the gorges and peered into the deep -valleys. He loved the mountains anywhere. But the Taurus seemed then, -in the glow of his return to perfect health and with all the profusion -of nature’s living beauties blooming about him, and the eternal snows -gleaming above him, to be the most attractive landscape in the world. - - “O deep, exulting freedom of the hills! - O summits vast, that to the climbing view, - In naked glory stand against the blue! - O cold and buoyant air, whose crystal fills - Heaven’s amethystine bowl! O speeding streams, - That foam and thunder from the cliffs below! - O slippery brinks and solitudes of snow, - And granite bleakness, where the vulture screams!” - -His visit to Konia (Iconium), the capital of Karamania, was full of -little episodes and personal incidents, which he told afterwards in print -in his own inimitable manner. But nothing of unusual moment occurred -until he reached ancient Phrygia, where the ruins of olden cities and -fortresses interested him much. Their history was almost as unknown as -the story of the temples of Yucatan, and consequently had a mysterious -appearance which charms in a bewildering way the study of a poet. - -Riding on over hills and mountains, across delightful streams, through -fertile valleys, associating with the Turks on friendly terms, and -studying their habits and language, Mr. Taylor pushed fearlessly into -the very heart of Asia Minor. Visiting Oezani in its debris, and the -valley of Rhyndacus, they traversed the primeval forests on the Mysian -Olympus, and true to his instincts he sought the heights of Olympus, twin -mountain, in size and literature, with its Grecian namesake. From that -point to Brousa, near the Sea of Marmora, it was but a day’s journey, and -seems to have been the most delightful ride of the whole tour. Gardens, -orchards, grain-fields, thickets of clematis and roses, patches of beech -and oak woodland, and brilliant streams pleased the eye, while the songs -of birds and of happy harvesters charmed the ear. Grand mountains -pierced the skies, covered with dense forests, behind them, and the plain -stretched away—a Garden of Eden—to the shore of a placid inland sea. - -They entered Brousa in excellent health and spirits, having seen no -unusual fatigue and been in no great danger during the whole journey -through a country then almost lost and unknown to the civilized world. - -From Brousa, the party descended to the Sea of Marmora, and taking a -sail-boat were wafted by the Golden Horn into the interminable fleets of -Constantinople. During his stay in that city he witnessed the display of -the Turkish holidays, saw the Sultan on his throne, entered the mosque of -Saint Sophia, ran to the numerous conflagrations, and unravelled to his -satisfaction some of the social and political problems connected with the -Sultan’s rule and the state of popular discontent. He foretold a war with -Russia, and a contest between the latter and England over the coveted gem -of the East and the gate to the Black Sea. His predictions have already -been proven to be true, showing an insight into political affairs wholly -unlooked for in a young man, and not to be found in such as had travelled -to less purpose. - -On leaving Constantinople, he proceeded again to Smyrna, which place -appeared to so much better advantage on his second visit than it did at -his first, that instead of leaving it, as before, with anathemas, he -celebrated his visit with a poem. - - “The ‘Ornament of Asia’ and the ‘Crown - Of fair Ionia.’ Yea, but Asia stands - No more an empress, and Ionia’s hands - Have lost their sceptre. Thou, majestic town, - Art as a diamond on a faded robe.” - -The reader may not need to be again reminded of Mr. Taylor’s double view -of the scenes he visited, or of the fact that he tried to give faithful -pictures of the present in his prose and left the ideal and fanciful to -his books of poetry. But to understand his disposition, and correctly -estimate his ability, they need to be read together; and hence, before -taking leave of Asia Minor, we venture to quote a verse from a dedication -to his friend Richard H. Stoddard, which we have seen in a volume of Mr. -Taylor’s poems. - - “O Friend, were you but couched on Tmolus’ side, - In the warm myrtles, in the golden air - Of the declining day, which half lays bare, - Half drapes, the silent mountains and the wide - Embosomed vale, that wanders to the sea; - And the far sea, with doubtful specks of sail, - And farthest isles, that slumber tranquilly - Beneath the Ionian autumn’s violet veil;— - Were you but with me, little were the need - Of this imperfect artifice of rhyme, - Where the strong Fancy peals a broken chime - And the ripe brain but sheds abortive seed. - But I am solitary, and the curse, - Or blessing, which has clung to me from birth— - The torment and the ecstasy of verse— - Comes up to me from the illustrious earth - Of ancient Tmolus; and the very stones, - Reverberant, din the mellow air with tones - Winch the sweet air remembers; and they blend - With fainter echoes, which the mountains fling - From far oracular caverns: so, my Friend, - I cannot choose but sing.” - -At Constantinople Mr. Taylor heard of the action which had been taken by -the United States, looking to the opening of the ports of Japan to the -commerce of America. He heard that a squadron was to leave the United -States in November, under the command of Commodore Perry, and he formed -the resolution to connect himself with the expedition, if possible. To -that end he wrote to his friends and employers in New York, asking them -to obtain permission for him to join the fleet. Not knowing just when -the expedition would sail, nor at what ports it would stop on its way to -Japan, he anxiously watched for information, and inquired at every place -where information was likely to be found. - -He was determined to visit Spain before he went to China and Japan, and -was equally resolved to visit the home of his German travelling companion -who ascended the Nile with him, and who had sent pressing invitations to -him to come to Gotha. - -The business details connected with his finances and outfit for Spain -and China also called him to London, and arranging his tour so as to -accomplish these diverse ends he visited Malta, where he was delayed -ten days, and then sailed to Sicily, where he witnessed the Catanian -centennial festival in honor of St. Agatha, and where he beheld the awful -spectacle of Ætna in eruption. From Sicily he sailed up the coast to -that Naples which, as a wayfarer in Rome seven years before, he had so -much longed to see, and filled his letters with praises of its beautiful -bay and charming circle of mountain, city, town, cliffs, and islands. -Without changing steamers he proceeded to Leghorn, and going to Florence -experienced that delight of all delights,—in Florence a second time. -Feeling that his time was limited, and “drawn by an unseen influence,” -he hastened on to Venice, and thence through the regions of the Austrian -Tyrol to Munich and Gotha. - -Gladsome days at Gotha! Was it not the country of his beloved friend? Was -it not the home of his friend’s niece, Marie Hansen? The daughter of the -great astronomer, Peter Andreas Hansen, was a worthy child of a noble -sire. Mr. Taylor had listened to her praises, but had hardly hoped to -meet her. - - “Now the night is overpast, - And the mist is cleared away: - On my barren life at last - Breaks the bright, reluctant day.” - - “Quick, fiery thrills, which only are not pangs - Because so warm and welcome, pierce my frame, - As were its airy substance suddenly - Clothed on with flesh; the ichor in my veins - Begins to redden with the pulse of blood, - And, from the recognition of the eyes - That now behold me, something I receive - Of man’s incarnate beauty. Thou, as well - Confessest this bright change: across thy cheeks - A faintest wild-rose color comes and goes, - And, on thy proud lips, Phyra, sits a flame! - Oh, we are nearer!—not suffice me now - The touch of marble hands, reliance cold, - And destiny’s pale promises of love; - But, clasping thee as mortal passion clasps - Bosom to Bosom, let my being thus - Assure itself, and thine.” - - —_Taylor’s Deukalion._ - -After a few weeks spent in and about that pleasant city, to which he was -destined to return and claim his bride, and in which he was to pass many -of the sweetest days of his life, he journeyed to London. There he made -his arrangements for a trip into China, and hastened away to Gibraltar. - -On the 6th of November he left the great rock and took passage in a -steamer for Cadiz, in Spain. There he walked the streets three thousand -years old, and wherein, it is said, that Hercules strode. Yet there is -but little now to be seen that would remind one of antiquity. He noticed, -however, the beautiful and graceful women. From Cadiz he went by boat up -the Guadalquiver River to the pretty town of Seville. There were the old -Moorish houses; there the massive Cathedral; there the Saracenic palace -of Alcazar, with all its porches, galleries, arches, and sculptures; -there was the palace called Pilate’s House, with its decorations from -Arabia, and inscriptions from the Koran; and there was the museum -containing Murillo’s best paintings. - -But it requires only a short time to visit all the attractions of -Seville, and Mr. Taylor soon proceeded to Granada. In nearly all the -cities which he visited he was reminded, directly or indirectly, of the -visit of his friend, Washington Irving. He found the same guides, or -lodged at the same hotel, or visited some celebrated locality of which -Irving had written. - -In Granada was the celebrated fortress of Alhambra, which was captured -from the Moors by the troops of Ferdinand and Isabella the same year that -Columbus discovered America; there was the palace of Charles V.; there -the Carthusian convent, the Monastery of St. Geronimo, and there the -cathedral with the remains of Ferdinand and Isabella. He made a hasty -trip to Cordova and its ancient Moslem mosque. Then, visiting Alhama, -Malaga, and Ronda, he returned hastily to Gibraltar and examined the -renowned fortress, said to be the strongest citadel in the world. - -In that somewhat hasty view of Southern Spain he obtained much valuable -information and an experience which often served him in his literary work -as a writer for the public press. Southern Spain and Southern France, -next to Rome itself, are replete with warlike and romantic associations. -Gauls, Romans, Moors, and Spaniards, have made nearly every plain a -battle-field; and the toppling walls of the ancient towers and palaces -tell of the fiercest contests, the most terrible inquisitions, and the -narrowest of narrow escapes. Song and story in prose and rhyme have -combined in every form to make the land attractive, and it is a matter of -deep regret that Mr. Taylor, who was so capable of developing all these -characteristics, had not more time in which to visit them and write out -his experience. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - - Leaves Gibraltar for Alexandria.—Egypt and Old Friends.—The - Town of Suez.—Embarks for Bombay.—Mocha and its - Coffee.—Aden.—Arrival in Bombay.—Reception by the People.—Trip - to Elephanta.—Ride into the Interior.—Difficulties of the - Journey.—Views of Agra.—Scenes about Delhi.—Starts for the - Himalaya Mountains. - - - “Where is Gulistan, the Land of Roses? - Not on hills, where Northern winters - Break their spears in icy splinters, - And in shrouded snow the world reposes; - But amid the glow and splendor, - Which the Orient summers lend her, - Blue the heaven above her beauty closes: - There is Gulistan, the Land of Roses. - - Northward stand the Persian mountains; - Southward spring the silver fountains, - Which to Hafiz taught his sweetest measures. - Clearly ringing to the singing, - Which the nightingales delight in, - When the Spring, from Oman winging - Unto Shiraz, showers her fragrant treasures - On the land, till valleys brighten.” - - —_Taylor._ - -By far the most interesting and valuable part of Mr. Taylor’s experience -as a traveller was in India, China, and Japan, if we consider only -the welfare of his readers. But so far as its influence upon him was -concerned, its impression was far less marked than that in Europe and -Egypt. At the time he left Gibraltar for Egypt, the lands of India, -China, and Japan were comparatively little known to the reading -communities in America. Even India, which had so long been the idol of -England and the El Dorado for all her adventurous spirits and valorous -soldiers, was a country with which America had but little communication, -and in whose people Americans took but little interest. It was a -neglected field. - -Mr. Taylor, in a letter to a friend in Washington, laid much stress -upon the importance to American commerce of an accurate description of -those lands, and hoped to be the instrument by which an interest in such -enterprises might be awakened. It was a laudable, patriotic purpose, and -was most conscientiously carried out by him. - -He left Gibraltar on the 28th of November, on a Peninsular and Oriental -steamer, which touched at that port, on its way from Southampton -to Alexandria. He arrived at Alexandria December 8, and sought his -old quarters in the city. He felt like one who returns to his home, -as he walked the streets of the Egyptian city, and relates with -evident satisfaction how pleasant it was to call out to the crowd of -donkey-drivers in their native tongue. - -But his visit to Cairo gave him the keenest delight, as there he saw -many familiar faces, and was greeted with many welcoming smiles. He was -especially delighted to meet his faithful dragoman, Achmet, who had been -his companion on his trip to the White Nile, and the happiness of the -Egyptian on seeing his old employer told very impressively the power and -virtue of Mr. Taylor’s character. Men were faithful to him because he had -faith in them. They loved him because he understood and appreciated them. -Even the little donkey-boy on whose animal Mr. Taylor had rode a year -before in one of his reckless canters through the bazaars, remembered him -and offered to let him ride again without pay—an act unheard of by other -travellers there. It could not be otherwise than sweet to travel in any -land where the people were friends and where the wanderer was regarded in -the light of an especially intelligent relative. - -At that date there were no railroads in Egypt, although one was -projected, and Mr. Taylor was compelled, in common with the crowd of -other travellers, to ride in a cart, eighty-four miles, through the sandy -desert, to Suez. The latter town was then, according to Mr. Taylor’s -account, a small, dirty, insignificant place. But the writer, who visited -the place after a visit to Japan, China, and India, in 1870, found a very -prosperous town, with excellent hotel accommodations. The bazaar was -large and stocked with an immense quantity of goods from all parts of the -civilized world. It has doubtless grown much since the work was begun on -the Suez Canal, and since the harbor has been dredged and the wharves -constructed. - -His stay in Suez was, however, very brief, as the Mediterranean steamer -had arrived much behind time, and consequently all were hurried on board -the little tug, and soon walked the deck of an India steamer. - -They were on the Red Sea! Now that its barren, sandy shores, the home -of the pelican and ostrich, have become so familiar to tourists, and -its glaring surface been so often mentioned by correspondents, there is -less romance about a voyage from Suez to Aden than in that comparatively -early day when Mr. Taylor visited the locality. There was the rugged pass -on the west, through which the pillar of fire led the escaping Jews to -the shore, and there was the beach and highlands on the east, up which -they marched dry-shod from the bed of the sea, while the waves rolled -in on the hosts of Pharaoh. There was the hill on which Miriam sang -so exultingly; and beyond, the hot peaks of the Sinaitic Wilderness. -Somewhere in the vicinity of that sea resided the Queen of Sheba; and not -far from its shores were the forgotten mines of ancient Ophir. - -But Mr. Taylor felt now that a patriotic duty rested upon him, and -avoiding the delicious flights of fancy which pleased him so much in -Europe, he devoted himself to the practical things which might be of -advantage to his ambitious countrymen. So he told about the sailors -who were employed on the steamer, where Hindoos did all the drudgery -and Chinamen prepared the food, under the direction of Europeans. He -described the character of the passengers, telling where each came from -and where they were going. How he ascertained these facts is an enigma; -but they were important to commercial people who would compete with -the established lines, and who would like to know whom to employ and -who would be their patrons. There were physicians, soldiers, officers, -merchants, and health-seekers, from each of whom Mr. Taylor managed to -gain much information. He did not wait, like the fashionable tourist -of this day, until he arrived at his destination, trusting to luck for -information and accommodation. He closely studied the country before he -arrived there, and frequently astonished his guides and native companions -by showing a much more accurate and extensive knowledge of their country -than they possessed who had lived there all their lives. - -He mentioned the hot red hills and the furnace-like surface of the sea, -saying that one part of the Red Sea was the hottest part of the earth’s -surface. But he appears to have suffered less than he had in the desert, -and was quite happy with his biscuit and claret, and lost no time with -useless fans. - -He saw Mocha from the deck of the steamer, and immediately set about -ascertaining what advantages that port and town offered to commerce. -Without leaving the deck he found persons who knew all about Arabia and -its products; so he sits down and writes a letter about coffee and its -culture in and about Mocha. He was such a devoted lover of coffee that -it may have been a peculiarly interesting topic to him. At all events, -he wrote so intelligently that an old schoolmate, who was engaged in -foreign trade, acted profitably on Mr. Taylor’s hints and started a son -in the coffee-trade at Baltimore. Mr. Taylor stated in his letter that -fifteen thousand tons of coffee were exported annually from Mocha, it -being raised in the interior and brought to Mocha on camels. He said that -foreign vessels could best load at Aden, the English stronghold on the -south-west coast of Arabia, to which port the native coasting vessels -carried nearly all the exports of Mocha and of the other small ports -along the Red Sea. He also gave the information that equally good coffee -could be obtained on the Abyssinian coast, and at a smaller price. - -He entered the port of Aden in the night, and was startled to look out on -the port in the morning and see such jagged masses of black rock shooting -up from the sand one thousand five hundred feet. It is another Gibraltar, -and shrewdly has England held by diplomacy what she obtained by such a -show of force. But the heat from the sand and barren rocks is so intense -that the quivers of a heated atmosphere are always visible, and very -injurious to the eyes. At the time of Mr. Taylor’s visit, the town and -the harbor were wretched and dangerous; but in 1870 the writer found a -neat village, with good hotels, and a spacious wharf. Mr. Taylor saw the -advantages of the port and predicted its growth. He mentioned the form, -features, and dispositions of the Arabians; and told what interest the -Parsees and Hindoos took in the local trade. He mentioned the articles of -commerce to be found there, and gave the prices. - -There is not to be found in his letters to the “Tribune,” nor in his -book, “India, China, and Japan,” any mention of his sensations when -he saw, as he did at Aden, a fire-worshipper (Parsee) for the first -time. Being a poet by nature, and an admirer of Moore, he must have -been fascinated by the actual presence of a Gheber with whom he could -converse, and with whom he could change English money into the coin of -the country. How “Lalla Rookh” comes to the tongue’s end when we look a -fire-worshipper in the face and recognize the picture Moore had given of -him! - -At Aden Mr. Taylor witnessed an incident which, to one so broadly -charitable and Christian, must have been most revolting. One of the -workmen, who had been loading the steamer with coal, was asleep in the -hold when the vessel started, and the officers finding him aboard after -they had put to sea, forced the poor native overboard and left him to -float ashore with the tide or perish in the waves. He whose land was the -world, whose brethren were all mankind, whose friends were the humblest -heathen as well as the titled official, looked back at the dark speck on -the waves, and tears filled his eyes. - -From Aden, the steamer entered upon its trip across the Indian Ocean, -which was true to its reputation, and was placid and peaceful as an -inland lake. But the slow steamer took nine days to sail from Suez -to Bombay; and by the time Mr. Taylor was brought into view of the -mountains where Brahma and Vishnu had so long been worshipped, he had -become acquainted with nearly all the Hindoo sailors, and could secure -unusual attendance from the waiters by addressing them in the Hindustanee -language. He had learned the names of the principal streets of Bombay, -the names of the richest merchants, and the kind of fare to be expected -at the hotels. So naturally did he fall into the ways of the people -that the boatmen who took him ashore at Bombay mistook him for an old -resident and carried him ashore for one rupee, while charging the other -passengers three. He seated himself, or rather stretched himself, into a -palanquin carried by four men,—one at each end of a long pole,—and like a -native rode through the streets of Bombay on the necks of servants. But -he did not enjoy that kind of conveyance; he had too much sympathy with -the human race to impose his weight on the necks of human beings without -misgiving, and he afterwards refused to be carried about in that way when -mules were to be had. - -At Bombay, he was received with the same good-will and hospitality as he -had found in other lands. Parsees, Hindoos, English, and Arabians vied -with each other in giving him kindly attentions; the people were pagan -in religion, but Christian in generosity and charity. It broadens one’s -ideas of theology to be thrown into communion with so many different -nations with as many different gods. But its tendency is to confirm, -rather than to unsettle, the belief in the Christian doctrines. At all -events, such was Mr. Taylor’s experience; and such has been the effect -upon others. - -He found the common people very servile, and lacking in spirit, and -attributed it to the long despotism. But in them he found faithful -friends, and learned to respect them. They were nearly all pagans when -he was there, and worshipped their huge red idols with a sincerity and -self-sacrifice worthy of the highest profession. In order to learn -something of India in those remote ages beyond the testimony of history, -and even back of the age of tradition, he visited the old temple on -the island of Elephanta, about seven miles from Bombay. The massive -structure, in partial ruin, so wonderfully wrought and massively -constructed, made a deep impression upon his mind. Far, far back in the -uncounted ages, the foundations were laid by men who were not low in -the scale of civilization, if an idea of the beautiful and the ability -to embody it in forms of stone be a test of enlightenment; it stands -to-day, defying time, as it has defied earthquakes and cannon-shot. Into -the fathomless future will it pass, an immovable monument of the skill -and art of man in the childhood of human experience. In the statuary -Mr. Taylor found a strange resemblance to the three ages of art; the -statue of Brahma representing the style of the Egyptian, Vishnu being -represented in a form and carving of the Greek style, while Siva was cut -from the stone in such a shape as to remind him of the Mephistopheles of -the German school of sculpture. - -His keen scrutiny also developed the theory that the pillars were rough -copies of the poppy-stem and the lotus-leaf. The latter was the emblem -of sanctity in the days of Brahma. Mr. Taylor’s suggestion has been -attractively enlarged upon and illustrated within a few years by writers -for English literary and art periodicals. - -No excursion from Bombay exceeds that to Elephanta in romantic -attractions; for there are not only extensive ruins of greater and lesser -temples, but the landscape, wherein the greenest islands dot the sheen -of a gorgeous bay, is bright with most beautiful flowers and bright -leaves, and the air is permeated with the odor of roses and cassia. -Soon Elephanta will be a “summer resort,” and Taylor’s description and -reflections will be sold by newsboys as a guide-book. - -At Bombay he visited the large mercantile establishments and investigated -the prospects of trade; saw the people in their homes, at meals, prayers, -marriages, and funerals, and studied the work of the carpenters in that -celebrated shipyard where was constructed the man-of-war wherein the -Star-Spangled Banner was written. He knew all about the city as it was -when he saw it, and as it had been from its Portuguese beginning; and -yet he remained but a single week. Who was the simpleton that circulated -an unauthorized statement that Mr. Taylor travelled far and saw little? -In fact, he knew more of the needs and enterprise of Bombay than many old -residents. - -In his haste to see as much of India as possible, and yet arrive in China -in season to join Commodore Perry’s expedition to Japan, he determined -to ride in one of the mail carts of India a distance of nearly four -hundred miles. His new friends advised him not to attempt the journey, -and entertained him with the deeds of assassins and robbers along the -route, and the results of the fatiguing ride of seven days and nights in -a two-wheeled vehicle without springs or mattresses. But his mind was -made up to go, and go he would. So, regardless of warnings and advice, -he started into the interior in a cart with a driver and the “Royal -Mail.” The traveller who now lounges in the luxuriant carriages of the -railway trains between Bombay and Calcutta, can have no idea of the -trials of such a journey as Mr. Taylor undertook. Then, there were no -railroads, no regular stages, even; nothing but lumbering carts drawn by -oxen and decrepit old horses. But he endured the fatigue with his usual -fortitude and good fortune, while his already remarkable experience -among hospitable people was repeated there in a most praiseworthy style. -Friends, friends, everywhere! Men divided their meals and beds with -him. People with whom he could converse by signs only, gave him food and -pressed themselves into his service, and would take no pay. In one place -a soldier sat up all night to give the weary traveller his bed. Surely, -the essence of human kindness and charity is not confined to Christian -lands! - -Through jungles, where there was not a single path; along highways, -crowded with innumerable carts; riding in wildernesses, where water was -scarce, and food not to be found; in every kind of vehicle known to the -primitive people, from a horse chaise to a bullock-cart; surrounded by -miasmatic marshes, and the lairs of tigers, he hurried on toward Delhi. - -On his way he made a short stop at Agra and Futtehpoor-Sikra, where stand -some of the mightiest and most costly temples which have been reared -since the beginning of the Christian era. It well repays years of work -and economy to wander among the palaces, mosques, and mausoleums of those -great cities. No palace in all the world can be found to equal that of -Akbar, the great Mogul, at Agra. When Mr. Taylor visited the city, nearly -all the rubbish, made by wars and sieges, had been cleared away, and the -scarred walls and marred mosaics had been restored, so that he stood -under mighty domes, amid all the splendor of the East. No one can imagine -its beauty and grandeur, unless he has seen it. Such lofty arches! -such masses of pure white marble! such a profusion of pearl, jasper, -cornelian, agate, and many stones of greater beauty and value! Such -exquisite carvings, such lovely mosaics, such labyrinths of inwrought -balustrades and porticos! Such tombs, so rich, so beautiful, so great, -that the tomb of Napoleon in Paris is lost in comparison! - -Mr. Taylor was delighted beyond measure by a visit to the tomb of the -Empress Noor-Jehan, wife of the Shah Jehan. Moore uses her romantic -history in his “Lalla Rookh,” for verily she was “The Light of the -Harem.” Shah Jehan, “Selim,” erected that marvellously beautiful -building, with its lofty dome, and slender minarets, its inlaid jewels -wherein the walls are made to hold a copy, in Arabic, of the whole Koran. -Beautiful as Eastern songs represent Noor-Jehan to be, the tomb in which -she lies must surpass her in whiteness and delicacy of outline. Never, -in harem of Cashmere, nor in garden of Mogul, were there more delicious -odors than those which still fill the air about her tomb. No brighter, -more various, or more odorous flowers bloomed in Mahomet’s Paradise, -than now bewilder the visitor to that hallowed spot. It was fortunate -for Mr. Taylor that he had seen the boasted palaces and temples of -Europe and Western Asia, before he visited that enchanted spot. Dreams -of Aladdin became literal there. In towers, arches, domes, colonnades, -ceilings of pearl and precious stones, pillars wrought with the skilful -jeweller’s art, inlaid floors in which no crease appears, in diamond-like -foundations, and in the unity of its unbroken sculptures, the temples -of Agra and of its suburbs, excel those of Venice and Florence, as the -exquisite and angelic echoes in the dome of Queen Noor’s tomb excel, in -length and sweetness, those of the Baptistry at Pisa. - -From Agra, he rode over the wide highway, one hundred and fifteen -miles, to Delhi, the former capital of the Moguls, and which, at that -time, boasted the presence, in his palace, of Akbar II. There he was -treated with the same hospitality as he had been in other cities, and -kind-hearted residents guided him about the streets of the modern city, -and accompanied him to the magnificent ruins in various quarters of the -plain whereon stood the old city. Pile on pile of massive columns lay in -ragged majesty about him, and bewildered his senses with their unnumbered -towers. Ruins, ruins, ruins, as far as the eye can trace the broken -plain. Palaces, fortresses, temples, mosques, harems, tombs, obelisks, -and massive battlements lie hurled together in undistinguished profusion, -while here and there the porch of some lofty building, or some imposing -arch, still breaks the line of the horizon. One pillar stands in the -plain, whose summit is two hundred and forty feet above the ground. Near -this gigantic shaft are the ruins of the palace of Aladdin. But the stone -that cumber the plain, and the stable platform, once the floor, do not -suggest the palace of diamonds, emeralds, pearls, gold, and ivory of -which we have read; and the beholder is tempted to believe that there -was a mistake of location, and that Agra instead of Delhi, was the place -after all. But Mr. Taylor, whose time was limited, could not linger -long, nor hope to solve all the riddles which such an inexhaustible -antiquarian museum suggested, and after visiting Hindoo temples, adorned -with fascinating carvings and unintelligible inscriptions, and tombs -covering the remains of known and unknown monarchs, he hastened back to -the modern city, with its wide Boulevard, and made preparations to visit -the Himalaya Mountains. - -He left that interesting city with great regret, for, to the poet, it -suggested a very attractive place for fanciful dreams, and peaceful -moralizing. Moore incorporated in his poem a Persian inscription, which -was shown Mr. Taylor in the palace of Akbar II.: “If there be an Elysium -on earth, it is here, it is here.” And it might have been such an Elysium -but for the dilapidated, dirty condition of the palace, in which the -motto was seen, which did not harmonize with the sentiment, and may have -robbed the whole palace of its poetical attractions. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - - The Himalaya Mountains.—Returning Southward.—Lucknow and - Calcutta.—Foretells the Great Rebellion.—Embarks for - China.—Visit to the Mountains of Penang.—The Chinese at - Singapore.—Arrival at Hong-Kong.—Joins the Staff of the - U. S. Commissioner.—Scenes about Shanghai.—The Nanking - Rebellion.—Life in Shanghai.—Enlists in the Navy.—Commodore - Perry’s Expedition. - - -From Delhi Mr. Taylor travelled northward through a country well -subjugated, which, under English direction, was made fertile and safe for -travellers. His way lay toward the sunnier resort of the invalids and -wealthy Europeans, which lay far up in the Himalaya Mountains, where the -snow never melted and where the hot, miasmatic winds of the plains cannot -follow the fugitive. At Roorkee, while lying in his palanquin, he caught -his first glimpse of the Himalayas, and felt that crushing sense of -awful sublimity which fills the soul of every new spectator. Towers that -the arch of heaven seems to rest upon, white and gleaming as the purest -pearl, rise one behind the other, until the farthest are lost in the haze -of intervening space. Titanic pillars of snow, so grand, so mighty, so -expressive of the most gigantic forces known or imagined by man, how can -language convey their immensity? It is useless to attempt it. For you -may talk, and talk, of mountains and the glorious sunsets that enamel -them in roseate tints, yet no one will shed tears or feel a tremor of -awe. But he who beholds them for the first time lets the tears unnoticed -fall, and trembles as if thrust suddenly into the personal presence of -the Almighty. Such a sense of humility, of abject unworthiness, takes -possession of the beholder, that the soul labors heavily under the -oppressive load, and the body shrinks from a nearer approach. There is -nothing so powerful for driving atheism or egotism out of a man as the -near view of the Himalayas or Andes or Rocky Mountains. The noblest races -of the world have been reared in the wild regions of lofty mountains, -and none so tenaciously revere their Maker, or so willingly sacrifice -themselves for their friends or their God as the natives of the mountain -passes. - -Mr. Taylor approached the highest range as near as the heights of -Landowr, which is about sixty miles from the snowy peaks of the loftiest -range, and is itself so high as to hold the snow the greater part of -the year. There he saw the gorgeous illumination of those heavenly -snow-fields, when the sun was setting and when it seems as if a universe -was in a blaze, while its lurid glare shone full upon those stupendous -monuments of the earthquake’s titanic power. Mr. Taylor gazed upon those -masses of the purest white, as twilight began to hide their outlines, and -thought that, as he said in one of his lectures, “within three hundred -miles of me are mightier mountains than these!” - -Having seen the mountains and checked his old desire to stand on top of -the highest one, he turned about and started southward for Calcutta, -taking the first day’s journey on an elephant kindly loaned him by a -new-found friend. He journeyed thence in the horse-carts of that time, -via Meerut and Cawnpore, to Lucknow, where he was entertained in a -most royal manner by the English officials. After examining that great -metropolis of the interior, he hurried on to Benares and thence by quick -relays to the great city of Calcutta. - -With a peculiar faculty for foreseeing the effect of certain influences -on human nature, Mr. Taylor foretold the approaching mutiny. He saw that -the English treated the natives with habitual indignity. He saw that -three-quarters of the earnings of the people was taken by the government. -He saw that the English were in a great minority. He saw that the Sepoy -regiments were good soldiers. He saw that influential positions were held -by dangerously powerful natives. And he declared that a rebellion was not -only possible, but probable. - -Four years later began that great rebellion among the natives, which -became one of the bloodiest and cruelest contests known in the annals -of history. Chiefs and princes who received Mr. Taylor cordially during -his visit, were afterwards executed for treason. Fortresses, temples, -and cities, which he visited were shattered and torn by the shots of -contending armies. Oppression and aristocratic pride resulted, as it -naturally would, in horrid carnage and an impoverished treasury. Mr. -Taylor’s words of warning as they appeared in America, were probably -never read in England, or if they were read, were scouted as the fears of -one who did not understand the “permanency of a despotism.” - -Although his stay was short in Calcutta, his description of the people, -the dwellings, the shipping, and social customs was one of the most clear -and complete to be found in print. One who reads it sees the city, the -river, the verdant plains, and the sea spread out before him, and becomes -acquainted with the shop-keepers, police, Parsees, Arabs, Hindoos, -Chinese, and Europeans, that made up the motley throngs. True to his -patriotic purpose, he gave the commerce of the port such attention as the -interests of our merchants required. - -From Calcutta he proceeded by an English steamer to Penang on the coast -of the Malay Peninsula. It is a delightful locality, and is as beautiful -in situation and vegetation as its clove and nutmeg trees are fragrant. -There again he gratified his taste for climbing a mountain, and spent -nearly his whole time ascending to the signal station on the highest -peak of the peninsula. It was the only place he visited in which he -left unseen the attractive nooks, grottos, waterfalls, and jungles, -and chose instead the less interesting experience. It was a source of -regret to him afterward, that he did not spend the few hours he had, in -the lowlands and on the mountain-sides rather than at their tops. Every -traveller who has visited Penang could detect the error. Yet, Mr. Taylor -set down in his account of his visit more valuable information and a more -graphic outline of the landscape than any traveller appears to have done, -notwithstanding the beautiful falls of Penang are visited by thousands -yearly. - -[Illustration: NATIVE COTTAGES IN THE TROPICS.] - -Accompanying the steamer in its usual route, Mr. Taylor stopped at -Singapore, at the extreme southern end of the peninsula. It was a new -port at that time, and was not so important as it afterwards became; -yet he found ten or fifteen thousand people there, mostly dirty and -repulsive Chinese. Mr. Taylor was not pleased with the Chinese as a -race, for two reasons. First, he heard such reports of their barbarity, -beastliness, and dishonesty; second, they were an awkward, unsymmetrical -people, devoid of that physical beauty which the artist admires and -copies. He dwelt upon the latter fact in his letters, and mentioned it -in his book. Neither Phidias, Polycrates, Raphael, or Angelo would have -selected a model from among these creatures, and naturally enough the -artistic taste of Mr. Taylor was shocked by such natural deformities as -the Chinese were, when looked upon with reference to the graceful and -beautiful in the human form. It is but just to the Chinese as a nation to -say that, according to the writer’s experience among them, the Coolies -who emigrate to Singapore, Sydney, and California are by no means a -fair sample of the educated and wealthy classes who remain at home and -drive out the least useful and least intelligent portion. If one were to -judge of the acquirements, ability, or physical beauty of the Chinese -nation exclusively by the poor emigrants who cannot successfully compete -with their neighbors, and hence are compelled to go away from home for -success, he would be nearly as sadly misled as one would be should he -form his opinion of the American people by the inmates of their jails and -poor-houses. There are many noble men and beautiful women in the interior -of China, whether regarded mentally, morally, or physically. Mr. Taylor -did not see them, and like a faithful scribe he wrote down only those -things he saw, and knew to be true. The Chinese whom he saw in the ports -engaged in unloading vessels, or doing like menial services, were not -beautiful, and he said so. - -When Mr. Taylor arrived in Hong-Kong he was received with the same kind -hospitality which his very countenance secured for him in every land. -The United States Commissioner, the Hon. Humphrey Marshall, who happened -to be at Macao, and whom Mr. Taylor met there on crossing the bay from -Hong-Kong, offered to attach Mr. Taylor to his staff, for a trip to -the seat of war. The great rebellion in the Kiangsu province, lying -north-westerly from Shanghai, had assumed such threatening proportions -that the emperor at Peking trembled on his throne. Exaggerated accounts -of the fiendish atrocities of the rebels, and rumors of great battles -and successful sieges had reached the seaports, and even the peaceful -American merchants at Shanghai feared capture and death. In view of -all this, Mr. Taylor anticipated an exciting experience. Together with -the whole ship’s company, he felt, when the United States steamer left -Hong-Kong for Shanghai, as if there was a measure of uncertainty if -he ever returned. But the reports had been so much enlarged in their -transmission to Hong-Kong, that when they arrived at the port of Shanghai -they were delighted to find the place in no immediate danger of attack -from the Chinese. In order to show the rebels that the Americans were -neutral in all the Chinese quarrels, the Commissioner undertook the -hazardous task of ascending the Yang-tse-kiang River to the beleaguered -town of Nanking. It seems to have been a foolish undertaking, and viewed -from any diplomatic stand-point, to have been indirectly an encouragement -of the rebellion. It was not so intended, however, and Mr. Taylor did -not give his opinion of the “good faith” which prompted the sending of -envoys to a local rebellion in the interior of a “great and friendly -nation.” But what good sense could not do, the shoals and incompetency of -the native pilots did accomplish; and the Commissioner who was going up -the river to pat the rebels on the back and ask them not to hurt their -friends, the Americans, was compelled to return to Shanghai. It would -have been better for the United States if the second undertaking had been -equally unsuccessful; but as Mr. Taylor had no share in it, it is of no -further importance here. - -While at Shanghai he experienced the sensation of being besieged without -seeing an enemy. The frightened people organized themselves into military -companies and drilled with the sailors. Breastworks were thrown up and -cannon placed ready for action. The streets were patrolled and a guard -kept over the provisions and ammunition. Tales of approaching hosts were -freely circulated, and once the terrified populace were informed by -an intelligent refugee that the enemy were within sight. Yet the days -passed on; the Chinese government began to show vitality, and the great -rebellion, with all its fearful butchery and refinement of cruelty, was -extinguished without the molestation of the foreigners at Shanghai, and -was overcome, notwithstanding the encouraging assurance given the rebels -by the United States Commissioner that our government was not disposed to -interfere with their outrages. - -While in Shanghai Mr. Taylor wrote some admirable articles upon the tea -culture of China, and upon the possible commerce with the Pacific coast -of America, which were published in New York and London. He felt the -throes of an earthquake while there, and had some pleasant interviews -with the educated classes of China. He saw the parade of the native -soldiers, and witnessed their grotesque religious ceremonies. His -observation was so close, and his generalization usually so just, that -until within a few years there has been no book printed in America which -gave so much of the information desired by popular readers in so little -space as Taylor’s account of that visit. - -Early in May Commodore Perry arrived at Shanghai, prepared for the -expedition which the United States had ordered him to make to Japan, -and Mr. Taylor’s long-felt desire to embark on that enterprise was -gratified. He was compelled to enlist in the navy as master’s mate, and -subject himself and all that he should write, to the orders of the navy -department and officers of the fleet. It seemed at first to be rather -humiliating terms, but after he had made the acquaintance of the officers -and learned the ways of a ship he found it a very pleasant position. -Thus, from one calling to another, he turned with a readiness and a -success which were astonishing. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - - His Reception on the Man-of-war.—Commodore Perry’s - Tribute.—Mr. Taylor’s Journals.—Visit to the Loo-Choo - Islands.—Explorations.—Mr. Taylor becomes a Favorite.—His - Description of the Country.—Cruise to Japan.—The Purpose - of the Expedition.—Mr. Taylor’s Assistance.—Return to - Hong-Kong.—Resigns his Commission.—Visits Canton.—Sails for - America.—St. Helena.—Arrival in New York. - - -There was some opposition to Mr. Taylor’s request to be taken into the -United States service, but his persistency and gentlemanly address not -only overcame the scruples of the Commodore, but soon made him a general -favorite. Commodore Perry, after his return to the United States, -mentioned the circumstances connected with Mr. Taylor’s enlistment, and -used the following language:— - - “On my arrival at Shanghai I found there Mr. Bayard Taylor, who - had a letter of introduction to me from an esteemed friend in - New York. He had been a long time, as I understood, exceedingly - anxious to join the squadron, that he might visit Japan, which - he could reach in no other way. - - “On presenting the letter referred to, he at once made a - request to accompany me; but to this application I strongly - objected, intimating to him the determination I had made - at the commencement of the cruise to admit no civilians, - and explaining how the few who were in the squadron had, - by signing the shipping articles, subjected themselves to - all the restraints and penalties of naval law; that there - were no suitable accommodations for him, and that should he - join the expedition he would be obliged to suffer, with the - other civilians, many discomforts and privations, and would - moreover be restricted, under a general order of the navy - department, from communicating any information to the public - prints or privately to his friends; that all the notes or - general observations made by him during the cruise would belong - to the government, and therefore must be deposited with me. - Notwithstanding this, however, with a full knowledge of all the - difficulties and inconveniences which would attend his joining - the squadron, he still urged his application. - - “Being thus importuned, and withal very favorably impressed - with his gentlemanlike and unassuming manners, I at last - reluctantly consented, and he joined the mess of Messrs. Heine - and Brown on board the ‘Susquehanna.’ During the short time he - remained in the squadron he gained the respect and esteem of - all, and by his habits of observation, aided by his ready pen, - became quite useful in preparing notes descriptive of various - incidents that transpired during our first brief visit to Japan - and the Islands. It was the only service he could render, and - it was afforded cheerfully. These notes have been used in the - preparation of my report, and due credit has, I trust, been - given to him. Some of the incidents illustrative of the events - mentioned in my official communications were, with my consent, - written out by Mr. Taylor and sent home by him for publication - in the United States. These he has used in his late work. His - original journals were honorably deposited in my hands. His - reports, like those of every other individual detailed for the - performance of a special duty, were of course delivered to me, - and became part of the official records of the expedition.” - -This tribute of friendship and respect, thus freely bestowed by one -holding the high rank of Commodore Perry, gratified the friends of Mr. -Taylor very much at the time they were written, and will now be prized by -them as a testimonial from the highest and best source. - -On leaving the port of Shanghai the squadron of the Commodore proceeded -direct to the Loo-Choo Islands, which were a group of thirty-six islands -lying to the south-west of Japan, and tributary to that empire. On -the 26th of May, 1853, the several steamers and sailing vessels came -to anchor in a harbor of the Great Loo-Choo Island, but a few miles -from the capital of the kingdom. Immediately Mr. Taylor’s services as -a descriptive writer were brought into requisition, and so proficient -and industrious was he, and he so much excelled the others with whom he -was associated, that the Commodore saw fit to entrust to his quick eye -and ready pen many of the most important details of the expedition. His -reports or journals of the explorations were never published in full, and -as the government kept them from him Mr. Taylor could not use them in -his book of travels in Japan and Loo-Choo. This is much to be regretted -now, as the greatly condensed narrative which appeared in his book does -not give the reader a comprehensive idea of Mr. Taylor’s capabilities. -His newspaper correspondence was always more readable and full than were -the pages of his book; for, between his desire not to tire the reader nor -impoverish the publisher, he frequently culled and abridged too much. -What a wonderful volume would that be wherein should be published in -full Mr. Taylor’s descriptions of the countries of Loo-Choo and Japan, -without condensation or abridgment. To illustrate this thought, and to -give a clear specimen of his style, we insert a page from his diary of -the 28th of May, 1853, reciting his experience when out in a small boat -in the harbor of the Great Loo-Choo Island visiting the coral reef. It -was a very little incident, but we ask the reader to notice how full of -interesting information and beautiful reference he made his account of it: - -“The crew were Chinamen, wholly ignorant of the use of oars, and our trip -would have been of little avail had not the sea been perfectly calm. With -a little trouble we succeeded in making them keep stroke, and made for -the coral reef, which separates the northern from the lower channel. The -tide was nearly out, and the water was very shoal on all the approaches -to the reef. We found, however, a narrow channel winding between the -groves of mimic foliage, and landed on the spongy rock, which rose about -a foot above the water. Here the little pools that seamed the surface -were alive with crabs, snails, star-fish, sea-prickles, and numbers -of small fish of the intensest blue color. We found several handsome -shells clinging to the coral. But all our efforts to secure one of the -fish failed. The tide was ebbing so fast that we were obliged to return -for fear of grounding the boat. We hung for some time over the coral -banks, enraptured with the beautiful forms and colors exhibited by this -wonderful vegetation of the sea. The coral grew in rounded banks, with -the clear, deep spaces of water between, resembling, in miniature, ranges -of hills covered with autumnal forests. The loveliest tints of blue, -violet, pale-green, yellow, and white gleamed through the waves. And all -the varied forms of vegetable life were grouped together along the edges -of cliffs and precipices, hanging over the chasms worn by currents below. -Through those paths and between the stems of the coral groves, the blue -fish shot hither and thither like arrows of the purest lapis-lazuli: and -others of a dazzling emerald color, with tails and fins tipped with gold, -eluded our chase like the green bird in the Arabian story. Far down below -in the dusky depth of the waters we saw now and then some large brown -fish hovering stealthily about the entrances to the coral groves, as if -lying in wait for their bright little inhabitants. The water was so clear -that the eye was deceived as to its depths and we seemed now to rest on -the branching tops of some climbing forest, now to hang suspended as in -mid air between the crests of two opposing ones. Of all the wonders -of the sea, which have furnished food for poetry and fable, this was -assuredly the most beautiful.” - -That trait, which characterized Mr. Taylor, accounts in a measure for -the inclination of all persons who met him to hold his companionship and -acquaintance. As Mr. Taylor’s esteemed friend, Mr. E. P. Whipple, of -Boston, once beautifully remarked of another, Mr. Taylor was sought by -men, “because they learned more of the world and its beauties through his -eyes than through their own.” His services in giving an accurate idea -of the countries they explored were invaluable, because it was not only -necessary to visit those countries and open their ports to commerce, but -it was also necessary to give to the American people such a idea of the -advantages and conveniences of trade as to induce them to enter upon -it. Nothing could be clearer than his views of life in these islands, -nothing more complete than his enumeration of the products, manufactures, -and needs of the countries they visited. The publication in full of all -his notes and observations as suggested to the Naval Department by the -officers of the Squadron at the time, would have given our people a -better understanding of the importance of the commerce and the character -of the people, than any other report could do. However, the Commodore -used a great many pages of Mr. Taylor’s journal while making his report -to the United States Government. - -Mr. Taylor was detailed to attend nearly every important excursion, and -was a most hearty and persevering explorer. He pushed into the interior -of an unknown jungle, intent on finding new flowers, new minerals, or new -animals. He ascended every mountain which was accessible, and ventured -into every cave that could be reached by boat or foot. The Great Loo-Choo -Island became familiar to him, and its flora and fauna were indelibly -catalogued in his mind, while the varied views of mountain, vale, forest, -bay, and sea were engraved upon his memory. By his good nature and -kindly regard for the welfare of the Loo-Choo natives when they met, he -contributed not a little toward the safety and success of the exploration -in that island. - -From Loo-Choo the fleet sailed to the Bonin Islands, where a harbor -suitable for a depot of supplies was found and land purchased by the -Commodore for government buildings should his choice of a harbor be -confirmed. The ships returned to Loo-Choo and proceeded directly to the -bay of Yeddo in Japan. - -For two hundred years that important nation had preserved its -exclusiveness, and had become almost as unknown to the western nations as -an undiscovered continent. Almost every commercial nation had, from time -to time, attempted to secure a footing for a trading-post or a harbor -for their vessels. In every instance they had failed, and the civilized -world had looked upon Japan as a country sealed beyond hope of breaking. -It must have appeared to every one, including the Commodore himself, -that the undertaking in which he was engaged was an especially difficult -enterprise. How could he hope to succeed where England, Portugal, -Holland. Italy, and Russia had failed? Yet he succeeded beyond anything -the most hopeful had desired; and as a result of his expedition a mighty -nation and a fertile country were restored to the family of nations. - -[Illustration: PAGAN TEMPLE IN JAPAN.] - -In that expedition Mr. Taylor took a deep interest, and with great -enthusiasm wrote letters to his home descriptive of Fusiyama, Kanagawa, -and the scenery around Yeddo Bay. During the long delay made by the -Japanese authorities, to impress the Commodore with their dignity, he -was engaged with eye and ear and pen in the service of his country. With -the devotion which marked all his undertakings, he noted everything -which passed under his scrutiny, in order that the Commodore might be -informed of every detail. Many travellers pass months at Yokohama, Yeddo, -or Nagasaki, making investigations and excursions, without finding out -so much of interest as Mr. Taylor saw in a single day. That natural and -acquired acuteness of observation, and that intuitive comprehension which -made him so conspicuous, are well worthy of study and imitation by all -persons who are ambitious to excel, whether engaged in travelling or in -any other occupation. So thoroughly had he disciplined himself in the -inspection of all that surrounded him, that when he arrived in Japan, -the ships, the junks, the people, their dress, their customs, their food, -their language, the vegetation, the minerals, the animals, the birds, the -landscapes, the bays, the promontories, the islands, the sea, the air, -the sky, the stars, the wind, and the sunlight were each and all full of -suggestions and valuable instruction. One could not follow Mr. Taylor’s -writings in the closing years of his travels without becoming conscious -of ignorance and short-sightedness concerning the commonest things of -life. It made his readers feel, oftentimes, when they discovered how much -he had noticed which they had overlooked, as boys feel when a playmate -finds a silver dollar on a spot which they have passed and repassed -without his good luck; with the difference, however, that Mr. Taylor’s -good fortune in that respect was the result of hard work and careful -culture. - -After the close of the preliminary negotiations, and a hasty survey of -the bay of Yeddo, the fleet departed on a short cruise to Hong-Kong, in -order to give the Japanese emperor time to think over the propositions -which the United States Government had made to His Majesty. - -The trip to Hong-Kong, by way of the Loo-Choo Islands, was without -special incident, and on the 7th of August he was again in the harbor -which he had left in the month of March. For five months he had known -what it was to be a seaman and made subject to the strict orders -enforced on a man-of-war. It was a fresh experience. He was keen enough -to recognize the merits and failings of naval discipline and naval -drill. He saw that many improvements might be made in both. He thought, -furthermore, that the ships themselves might be constructed on a better -pattern. Hence, he boldly recommended changes whenever the opportunity -came for him to speak through the public prints. He had become much -attached to the officers and men of his ship, and parted with them at -Hong-Kong with the feeling of sincere regret. He had made it his home on -board, and had been so contented and so kindly treated that he felt the -pangs of homesickness as he shook hands and went over the side for the -last time. - -Although he had enlisted for the usual term of years, as the laws of -the United States recognized no shorter term, and ran the risk of being -held to the terms of his enlistment, yet there was a tacit understanding -between him and the Commodore that he should be allowed to resign when -the fleet returned to Macao. Consequently, when he presented at that port -his resignation it was promptly accepted, and he became a civilian again. -He found it nearly as awkward to be a landsman as he had at first to be -a sailor, and often looked out on the great men-of-war, as they lay at -anchor, with an indescribable yearning to tread their decks. - -From Macao, he made excursions to Hong-Kong and Canton, finding friends -that pleased him, and an aristocratic snobbery that displeased him, in -the former place, and dirt, vice, and cheating in the latter, which made -him further disgusted with the Chinese race. In Canton, as elsewhere, -he spoke of them in strong terms, condemning their importation into the -United States in a manner to please the bitterest hater of the Celestials -to be found on our Pacific coast. Yet he visited the shops, practised the -“pigeon English,” visited the great temple of Honan, tested the power of -opium by smoking it himself, made a tour into the country, interested -himself in the foreign factories and the local government, and made the -acquaintance of many enterprising foreign merchants. But his aversion to -the Chinese, doubtless intensified by the wild rumors of barbarous deeds -then current on account of the rebellion, was not abated after he had -seen the great metropolis; and he frankly admitted, in his letters and in -his book, that he was glad to get away from China. - -At Canton, he took passage in a sailing vessel bound for New York, that -being his most direct and least expensive route. He was anxious to return -to the United States, because he had been absent over two years, and -because of some financial arrangements which he considered it important -to make. He felt also that if he should publish a record of his travels -in the form of books, the sooner they were issued after his letters -had appeared in the “Tribune,” the better for the publishers and for -himself. In this undertaking, however, he was much delayed. - -The ship in which he sailed, passed the Philippine Islands and the -coast of Java, and rounding the Cape of Good Hope, stopped for water -at the isle of St. Helena. The body of the Emperor Napoleon had been -removed to Paris, but Mr. Taylor found it a very interesting and -romantic spot. He was as much shocked, however, by the desecration of -the spot by the practical herd-keepers, as he was by the profanity of -the machine-rhymester who marred the grotto of the poet Camoens at Macao -with a doggerel composition. Mr. Taylor felt the absurdity of such -profanations, as none but poetical natures can feel them. - -From St. Helena, the voyage was not unusually eventful, and after one -hundred and one days at sea, and with Mr. Taylor nearly that number of -days engaged in writing and correcting, they arrived in New York on the -20th of December, 1853. His welcome to New York and to his old home was -one of the most pleasant experiences of his life, and he often mentioned -it as being as exciting as the event of his first return when he walked -into the old homestead in his German walking-suit. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - - Takes up the Editorial Pen.—Publication of His “Poems - of the Orient.”—His Books of Travel.—Lecturing before - Lyceums.—Friendship of Richard H. Stoddard.—Private - Correspondence.—Love of Fun.—Resolves to Build a Home at - Kennett.—Charges of Intemperance.—Preparations for a Third Trip - to Europe.—Acquaintance with Thackeray. - - -Immediately upon his return from China, he entered again the traces for -hard and long literary work. He had written poems, and snatches of poems, -verses, and couplets in his spare hours as a traveller, and his note-book -and guide-books were full of such impulsive productions, written on the -margin and on the fly-leaves. Those scattered compositions he desired -to reduce to satisfactory and convenient shape for publication. Some -of them had been written on the seas, some on the Nile, one in Spain, -one in Constantinople, one in Jerusalem, two in Gotha, and several in -railways and steamboats. The thought of publishing them in the form -of a book, was suggested to him by one of his intimate friends in New -York,—either Mr. Stoddard or Mr. Ripley,—his intention having been to -publish them from time to time in some periodical, in much the same -manner as he had contributed to the “Union Magazine,” some eight years -before. But he had sufficient appreciation of his own genius to act -promptly on such a suggestion of his friends, and the first few weeks -after his return were occupied with that work, in addition to the work of -arranging and correcting his unpublished letters to the “Tribune.” When -he had completed the “Poems of the Orient,” it was published by Ticknor & -Fields, of Boston, as a companion volume to the “Rhymes of Travel,” and -“Book of Romances,” both of which were united in one volume, in 1856, -under the title of “Poems of Home and Travel.” In the preparation of -these poems, he was greatly assisted by the kindly and discreet criticism -of his friend Stoddard, which he not only acknowledged in the remarkable -dedication “From Mount Tmolus,” but mentioned it to his relatives with -expressions of thankfulness. The public owe a debt to Mr. Stoddard -for his generosity and hospitality to Mr. Taylor, as well as for the -beautiful poems and truthful biographies which he has written. A true man -is a friendly critic, if a critic at all. Such was Richard H. Stoddard. - -Mr. Taylor was then called into a new work by a curious public, who -wished to see the man who had wandered so far, and had seen so much of -this great earth. Hence he was repeatedly called upon to lecture in -various cities of the Eastern and Middle States. His financial condition -was not so prosperous as to preclude the possibility of future needs, and -as the invitations to lecture were accompanied by very liberal offers in -the way of remuneration, he accepted many of them. It was, however, an -uncongenial occupation. Public speaking had never been recognized as one -of his great gifts, and the great masses who gather on such occasions, -gather more for amusement than study. They wished to see how he appeared. -The ladies desired to know if he was handsome, well dressed, and what was -the color of his eyes and hair. The men wished to see if he had become a -foreigner in speech or manner. The boys wanted to hear bear stories, and -the girls of wild giraffes and affectionate gazelles. Not that the public -desired to hear pure nonsense; but that it wished its lessons very much -diluted. The polished essays of Mr. Taylor, with their poetical language -and refinement of expression, were of little or no account, and a view -of his portly physique, and the right to say that they had seen him, and -heard him, satisfied the greater portion. To him, such audiences were not -agreeable. Whenever he could find a friend like O’Brien or Stoddard, he -enjoyed reading his own productions; but to be set up as a show, had in -it no such satisfaction. Being also very much engaged in preparing his -books of travel, and in writing for the “Tribune,” often writing on the -railway trains, and in hotels, he was weary, and could not enter into the -labor of public teaching with the zest which might otherwise have been -expected of him. Yet, in point of numbers, and financial returns, his -tour, during the winter of 1854, was successful, and the harvest for the -season of 1855 promised to be still larger. - -In addition to the work already mentioned, he had a great number of -private correspondents, whose letters he answered with astonishing -punctuality. Men in Egypt, China, England, Germany, California, and the -United States, sent him letters of inquiry about the best routes, and -cheapest outfit for travel. To which he replied as fully as he could, -always remembering the like favors done him when in the printing-office -at West Chester. There was a large number of friendly acquaintances in -many parts of the world who desired to sustain a correspondence with -him, and, often, his desk at the “Tribune” had piled upon it as many as -fourscore letters, brought by a single mail. It seems incredible when we -think of the amount of writing Mr. Taylor did during the years of 1854 -and 1855. - -Owing to the great amount of work which could not be postponed, and -the fact that the “Tribune” had the moral right to his letters before -he offered them for sale in the form of a book, the last of his three -volumes of travel did not appear until August, 1855. - -At one time, he entertained the idea of publishing a book of songs, and -consulted with his publisher concerning the probable success of such a -volume. But having had his attention called to the fact that the veriest -trash answered the purpose of musical composers fully as well as sterling -poetry, he abandoned the idea. The thought was probably suggested to -him by the writings of Thomas Moore, whose “Lalla Rookh” was frequently -brought to mind while Mr. Taylor was writing out the chapters of his -book, wherein he described his visit to Agra and Delhi in India. The -objections which he found to a volume of songs, seemed equally applicable -to single productions which might be included in such a category, and he -not only suppressed many he had written, but cautiously cut out verses -in such as had been printed, before he allowed them to be published -again. He went so far as to request that the song for which he obtained -the Jenny Lind prize in 1850, should be kept forever out of print. Some -of these are said to be among his papers in Germany, where his body -now lies, and the writer sincerely wishes to see them all in print at -a day not very remote, together with the epistolary poems and friendly -sonnets which have been sent by him to the distinguished scholars and -poets who enjoyed his friendship. It will take time to gather them, but, -when collected, will make the best of reading, and will show the joyous, -simple, sincere character of the poet, as no amount of prose can do. - -As early as October, 1854, Mr. Taylor conceived the idea of building a -summer residence near the old homestead at Kennett. It may have been a -purpose entertained in his youth, for he often mentions, directly and -indirectly, in his early writings, the scenery and the people about his -home at Kennett. But in that year the idea appears to have assumed the -form of a possibility, for he wrote to one of his old schoolmates, who -resided that autumn in Jersey City, saying that he began to see his way -for a house of his own at Kennett. The letter set in circulation the -report that he was soon to be married; but he had kept his own counsel -so well, and held aloof so studiously from the company of ladies, that -none of the gossips could possibly hint at the person of his choice. -This loyalty to his home and desire to return to it like a weary bird to -its nest, was a beautiful trait of his character, and testifies strongly -to his natural goodness of heart. For it will be found that the noblest -men of all ages and professions have loved the homes of their childhood, -while the selfish, narrow, barbarous, and mean, universally regard their -early associations with neglect or contempt. - -A touching scene arises before the writer, as he reaches this theme, and -the tears will come to the eye and cheek! Away in that German land sleeps -the son and brother. The romantic home at Kennett, stands cosy, yet -stately, among the winter-stricken trees. Inside are the dear ones whom -neither years, nor honors, nor wanderings have induced him to forget—the -father and the mother in the mansion of their son. There is the sister, -whose feet, after years of absence, tread again the paths of home. There -the visitor feels the gloom of a distant death. Windows that flashed with -light; drawing-rooms that were made charming by the cheerful faces of -the great and good, are now suggestive of sadness and disaster. The cold -winds shake the dry vines, and cry around its cornices. The loved ones -are there,—waiting, waiting for him to come home! He never disappointed -them before. Why comes he not? Why do not his letters come with the mail? - - “Moan, ye wild winds! around the pane, - And fall thou drear December rain!” - -Ah, we know the meaning now of those sad words. For we have lived them -too! - -Ever looking forward to the time when he could give his parents a -more luxurious home, feeling most keenly the rapid strides of time, -as he looked upon their whitening locks, unwilling to prosper alone, -and promoting ever the welfare of those he loved, he strove with an -unchangeable determination to accumulate sufficient money to build -a house near the old farm, that should be a home for all, and a -resting-place for himself. To this, in part, was due his incessant work -through the years of 1854 and 1855. His books brought him a considerable -return; he received a reasonable compensation as editor and lecturer, -and he had lifted the load of debt which the “Phœnixville Pioneer” had -bequeathed to him, but which no one believed he was able to pay; and -could look forward to a competency and, perhaps, to wealth. Yet, in -all his work, there was a cheerfulness that seemed to give rest while -the work went on. He often indulged in fun, was ever joking with his -friends, and indulging in playful pranks with his acquaintances. Usually, -however, his facetiousness was itself a method of self-discipline,—a -different kind of work. He used to visit his friends whenever an -evening could be spared from necessary labor, and spend the hours in -writing and exchanging humorous burlesques, acrostics, sonnets, and -parodies. Sometimes he would “race” with his literary friends in writing -lines of poetry on a given subject, and although, as he afterward -acknowledged, he often came in second best, yet he enjoyed the sport -and the satisfaction of the victor none the less. The same fun-loving, -mischievous, kind-hearted boy, who enjoyed writing extravagant verses, -and sending them to his schoolmates, walked the streets of New York -in 1855. Time had given discretion, sorrow had given reserve; but the -fun bubbled out whenever the waters were moved. His mirth was less -ostentatious, but not less hearty. Loving a bottle of beer, or wine, -for the sake of sociability, for in his younger days it was universally -considered a necessity, he never drank to excess, nor was ever regarded -by his companions as an intemperate man. Envious simpletons have -sometimes accused him of intemperate habits during those two years; but -so well-known and frank was his life, that it would have been then, as -it certainly is now, a waste of time to deny so absurd a statement. -So-called temperance men are often the most intemperate people known -in public life. As temperance, in fact, consists of temperance in all -things, as well as in the use of intoxicating drinks, the real temperance -people of America will discourage alike the excess in the use of -stimulants, and that excess in the use of epithets and misrepresentation, -which, by the resulting reaction, encourages the use of that which they -wish to prohibit. Intemperate speeches, like intemperate laws, and -intemperate drinking, are to be condemned and avoided by all who believe -the Highest Moral Standard known to man. It is exceedingly intemperate to -circulate a falsehood about any person, and especially of one of our own -American family, who has done so much for our nation, and “never wished -harm to any man.” - -It had long been Mr. Taylor’s wish to take his sisters and brother to -Europe with him, in order that they might enjoy those scenes which had -pleased him so much; and he had often mentioned, in his letters to them -from abroad, how much more he would enjoy the advantages of travel, if -they could be with him to share in his pleasure. He was too generous to -desire the exclusive enjoyment of anything, and was especially anxious -that those related to him should reap the benefits of all his labors. -Hence, in the spring of 1856 (not without correspondence with one in -Gotha, however), he arranged his plans for another series of excursions -in Europe, and persuaded his sisters and brother to accompany him. - -It was during those two years of labor that he made the acquaintance of -many of the distinguished literary men of Massachusetts, and in one of -those years—1855—he secured the acquaintance and friendship of William -Makepeace Thackeray, who visited this country then for the second time, -and delivered his long-remembered lectures on the “English Humorists of -the Eighteenth Century,” and “The Four Georges.” So well known, and so -much respected had Mr. Taylor become, that he was sought by the great of -both continents, and when he departed for Europe, in the spring of 1856, -the kind wishes of thousands of America’s representative men and women -went with him, and a welcome awaited him on the shores of England from as -many more. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - - Visit to Europe.—Reception in England.—Company in - Charge.—Starts for Sweden.—Stockholm.—The Dangerous Ride.—The - Severe Cold.—Arrival in Lapland.—First Experience with - Canoes and Reindeers.—Becomes a Lapp.—The Extreme North.—The - Days without a Sun.—“Yankee Doodle.”—The Return.—Study - in Stockholm.—Return to Germany and London.—Embarks for - Norway.—Meets his Friend at Christiania.—The Coast of - Norway.—The Midnight Sun.—Trip across Norway and Sweden.—Return - to Germany. - - -Without bringing the living into a notoriety which they certainly do -not seek, and which might be unpleasant for them, we cannot give an -extended account of that summer trip of Mr. Taylor and his friends -in the countries of Europe, already so familiar to him. He devoted -himself to the welfare of his companions, and appeared to enjoy himself -exceedingly. England appeared brighter and more attractive than he -supposed it possible; and his pleasure in visiting historical places was -doubled by the fact that he had others to appreciate and enjoy it with -him. His sisters inherited enough of that same instinctive comprehension -of vegetable nature, and enough of that fellowship with kindred human -nature, to regard the landscapes and the people as he had regarded them, -and made, as he wrote to his friends in Philadelphia, wonderfully -observing travellers. Other friends there were, who, with his brother, -made up a pleasant party, over which Mr. Taylor was for the time the -guide and protector. He visited many places where he had never been -before, but he had studied his theme so closely during his previous -visits to Europe that even in strange places he felt the gratification -of one who had been there before, and to whom each scene and relic was -familiar. His little party was often interrupted by the calls made -upon him to attend dinner-parties and select gatherings of literary -people; but he was not a neglectful escort. His acquaintance with the -men and women of London whose names are known to all readers of English -literature, was promoted very much by the kindness of Mr. Thackeray, -who spared no pains to introduce Mr. Taylor into that “charmed circle.” -No one can appreciate the pleasure there was in being introduced to the -authors of whom the world has said so much, unless he has followed them -like a friend through their various volumes and learned to love them -there. Historians, essayists, biographers, poets, musical composers, -and scientific authors clasped his hand in London and welcomed him to -their homes and their love. At last he felt that he had reached the -heights for which he had been striving, and was regarded as an equal by -those whose plane of thought he had so long striven to reach. But that -feeling had its reaction, for he often examined himself and repeated to -himself his published poetry, and, as he described it himself, wondered -what there could be in it worthy of reproduction in Old England. His -association with the master-minds of England opened to him a wider field -of literature, and impressed him with the importance of writing something -loftier and more artistic than anything he yet had undertaken. To that -task he turned all the forces of his nature; so that on leaving England -his friends noticed through all his vivacity and unceasing attention a -tendency to abstraction; as though some important theme unspoken was -uppermost in his mind. He was searching for an ideal which should not -copy Tennyson, nor Wordsworth, nor Browning, but should equal theirs in -conception and execution. He felt that irresistible yearning for the -highest poetical work, which is the surest indication of genius. He was -not egotistic, he was not foolishly ambitious, but all his life he had -been seeking his place in the realms of poetry, feeling morally sure, -notwithstanding his own temporary misgivings, that there was a great work -for him to do. - -[Illustration: RUSSIAN SLEDGES.] - -However, the needs of the present crowded out the dreams of the future, -as they so often do in the lives of others, and after a delightful summer -in the lands he loved, and a visit to those who were now dearer than the -most gorgeous landscapes, he determined upon a trip to the frozen regions -of Lapland. He undertook that journey with evident reluctance. His -communion with the best minds of America and Europe had taught him that -of the works which he had published his poetry would live much longer -than his travels. He found that the place of a poet in the scale of human -merit was loftier than that of a journalistic traveller. He had left home -with a feeling of uncertainty about his future course; but there was no -longer hesitation or doubt. He would follow out the routes laid out and -keep his promises to the newspapers and publishers, and was determined -to acquire an insight into the Scandinavian language in view of an -enterprise in the way of translation, which, however, was never fully -matured nor undertaken. But his interest in travel had lost its chiefest -charms. It would not, could not, satisfy his ambition. Some critics have -accounted for this lack of zeal by the nearness of his marriage, which -would take him from his wanderings. But the best reason is the one he -gave himself; viz., that he desired to undertake some more permanent -task—one that should live when his travels were forgotten. - -Hence, that indescribable lack which his readers have so universally -found in his books of travels published after that date. He could not rid -himself of the burden, nor cease to ponder upon the subjects which seemed -worthy of a great poem. - -Starting from Germany Dec. 1, 1856, and embarking on a steamer which -ran between Lubec and Stockholm, he entered upon an undertaking more -hazardous and uncomfortable than anything he had ventured upon before. -But his experience taught him to fear nothing and to move on so long as -any other living being had lived on the same route. He had determined to -see a day without a sunrise and a night without a sunset. To be able to -state that fact in a book, would, in itself, ensure its ready sale. Of -this he had been assured in New York by his friend Dr. E. K. Kane, whose -opinion was entitled to much consideration, as the Doctor had been far -more extensively engaged in explorations, and had travelled many thousand -miles further than Mr. Taylor. Having once decided to see that wonderful -sight, nothing in the way of privation could prevent the accomplishment -of his purpose. - -The steamer from Lubec was a rough, uncouth, inconvenient craft, and the -sea-sick voyage which Mr. Taylor and his friend made to Stockholm was -not an auspicious beginning for a tour so long and so dangerous. But he -relapsed into his old habit, acquired in Asia, of regarding no delay with -surprise or impatience, and refusing to feel certain of anything until he -possessed it; and as neither carelessness, neglect, lack of sleep or food -was allowed to disturb him, he made the company cheerful under the most -distressing circumstances. - -[Illustration: LAZARETTO CHRISTIANSAND.] - -On his arrival in Stockholm he could not speak a word of the language, -and had to depend mostly upon his own common-sense in the selection of an -outfit. But his quick ear and tractile tongue soon caught up words and -phrases, the meaning of which he learned by their effect when spoken, -and when he started northward he was able to ask for nearly everything -he needed in the native language. Of his ride from town to town, by -diligence and by lumbering sleighs, along the shores of the Bothnian -Gulf, we cannot give any extended account, and it can easily be found by -any reader who did not peruse it at the time of its publication. But it -answers our purpose to note how he appeared and what he suffered. It was -a terrible ride. Day after day and night after night he pushed on, losing -many meals, and often without sleep, in a temperature creeping downward -far below zero, and the sun sinking lower and lower on the southern -horizon. Frequently overturned in the snow, his beard and hair a mass of -solid ice, his eyelids frozen together, his nose frost-bitten, his hands -and feet momentarily in danger of freezing, he kept heroically on his -course, allowing no rumors of unendurable cold or impassable mountains, -of snow ahead to drive him from his purpose. With a wisdom that saved his -life, he fell with perfect _abandon_ into the habits of Swedes, Finns, -and Lapps, as he in turn found himself in their country and society, -eating what they ate, and wearing such skins as they wore, and following -their habits, excepting their dirt and their promiscuous arrangements for -sleeping. Around the gulf to Tornea, and thence to Muoniovara, he sped -northward with a haste which astonished the natives, and a shortness of -time which has surprised many travellers who have followed him on that -difficult route. He made such acquaintances and such friends on his way -northward that they wished him God-speed as he passed on, and welcomed -him in a royal manner on his return. On the borders of Lapland he took -his first lessons in reindeer-driving, and a most amusing experience -he had of it. He could not at first balance himself in the narrow boat -which was built for snow navigation, and he was frequently overturned in -fathomless piles of snow; and as he did not fully understand how to check -the speed of the animal, he flew like the wind over drifts, hollows, and -around corners with a most dangerous speed. Many men would have given up -the task, after being frozen, kicked, bruised, and pulled half out of -joint by the first trial. But such experiences were regarded by him as a -joke, and laughing over past mishaps, he tried again and again, until he -could guide a deer and balance himself in the narrow pulk as skilfully -as the Lapps themselves. He was not a traveller who sought luxury and -ease. He wished to sound all the shoals and depths of local experiences. -Some of the trials were very hazardous, and make one’s hair rise as he -reads of them. Yet Mr. Taylor appears to have put a blind trust in fate -and went boldly on. In all these visits and undertakings he forgot not -his Muse, and repeated “Afraja” and the “Arctic Lover” when the snow blew -too furiously or the cold was too far below zero to engage in original -composition. - -With the thermometer varying from zero to forty degrees below he -traversed the wildest part of Lapland, which lies between the Bothnian -Gulf and the Northern Ocean. - -At Kautockeino, far beyond the Arctic Circle, he found friends, through -the letter of a mutual acquaintance, and recorded with his usual kindness -of heart, how good and how generous they were to him. There, too, he -saw the day without a sunrise, which he had promised himself to see, -and his description of the white earth, the blue sky, the saffron and -orange flushes of the morning, and the crimson glow of the evening, all -combined in a few moments of time as the sun approached the line of -the horizon and sank again without peeping over it, is one of the most -charming and graphic paragraphs to be found in literature. There, too, -he saw the moon wheel through her entire circuit, without a rising and -without a setting. There he made sketches of the dwellings and the people -which, after so much practice, he was able to take in a very accurate -and artistic manner, and which served afterwards for illustrations in -the pages of a magazine. There he met a Lapp by the name of “Lars,” and -meeting the name often afterwards, suggested the name for that poem of -“Lars,” now as popular in Norway as in the United States. There, in that -extreme north, in the house of a native missionary, he found a piano, and -was half beside himself with joy when the kind-hearted ministers wife -played “Yankee Doodle.” She had heard Ole Bull play it at Christiania, -and caught the tune in that way. - -His return to Stockholm was more tedious and dangerous than his northward -journey, for the weather was colder and the storms more severe. But his -reception at the miserable huts along the route, where he had stopped -on his journey northward, was always so hearty and friendly that he -felt no longer in a strange land. It was a repetition of his experience -elsewhere. He was loved at sight, and has not been forgotten to this day -by the humble friends he made. Nothing shows the whole-souled manner -in which he threw himself into the feelings and habits of the people, -better than the expressions which he used in his letters concerning the -scenery. He felt so much like a Swede, that he loved the landscapes -with the devotion, of a native. Notwithstanding he had used all the -superlative terms which our language furnished, in which to describe the -scenery of the tropics, yet there he went further and declares with great -enthusiasm, that the South had no such beautiful scenery as the ice-bound -forests and mountains of Sweden. To him, when he saw them, there -were no landscapes to compare with those before him. The transparent -crystals, the purity of the snow, the shape of the half-buried trees, -the boundless plains of white, and the gleams of acres of diamonds when -the frosty spirals greet the morning sun, all possessed a charm beyond -the attractions of any other land, so long as he was their associate. -He became a Swede, and knew, when his experience was over, just how a -Swede lived and how he felt, what he loved and what he enjoyed. Thus he -came to a more thorough understanding of the people, and had a better -appreciation of their literature, than any other traveller known to the -public prints. - -On his return to Stockholm, February 14, he set about the work of -learning the language and literature of the Swedes. For nearly three -months he kept close to his books and his practice in the gymnasium, and -although it seems almost impossible, it is said by his associates that he -could then read fluently any work to be found in the Norse language. - -He left Stockholm on the 6th of May, taking a steamer for Copenhagen, -from which place he purposed to take a steamer for Germany. At Copenhagen -he met Hans Christian Andersen, the great Danish poet, by whom Mr. Taylor -was received most cordially. Thus, one after another, the great men of -the world were added to the list of friends found by this son of an -humble American farmer. Andersen afterwards sent Mr. Taylor copies of -his poems and essays before they were printed, and in many ways showed -his regard for the American poet. There Mr. Taylor met Prof. Rafn, the -archæologist, and Goldschmidt, the author of the “The Jew,” and editor of -a magazine. - -Prof. Rafn, gave Mr. Taylor his initiation into the beauties of Icelandic -poetry, for the professor was an earnest admirer of northern lore, and -loved to converse with any one who took an interest in it. Ho read some -of the verses which he especially admired, for Mr. Taylor’s criticism, -and Mr. Taylor was so delighted with them that he resolved to study the -literature of Iceland and at some time to visit the Island. - -From Copenhagen Mr. Taylor hurried over to Germany to look after his -friends, and after a stay of a few days hastened to London on business -connected with his books. He left London about the first of July, after -seeing his relatives depart for America, and taking a steamer at Hull, -sailed for Christiania in Norway. The steamer stopped at Christiansand, -where the rugged, broken promontories loom up so grandly over sea and -bay. No harbor is more picturesque than that of Christiansand, and -no coast more uneven. Perhaps the best description of the coast from -Christiansand to Apendal, given by Mr. Taylor, is to be found in his poem -of “Lars,” wherein Lars and his Quaker wife sailed from Hull for Apendal. - - “Calm autumn skies were o’er them and the sea - Swelled in unwrinkled glass: they scarcely knew - How sped the voyage until Lindesnaes, - At first a cloud, stood fast and spread away - To flanking capes, with gaps of blue between; - Then rose, and showed, above the precipice, - The firs of Norway climbing thick and high - To wilder crests that made the inland gloom. - In front, the sprinkled skerries pierced the wave; - Between then, slowly glided in and out - The tawny sails, while houses low and red - Hailed their return or sent them fearless forth. - ‘This is thy Norway, Lars; it looks like thee,’ - Said Ruth: ‘it has a forehead firm and bold: - It sets its foot below the reach of storms, - Yet hides, methinks, in each retiring vale, - Delight in toil, contentment, love, and peace.’” - - “‘To starboard, yonder lies the isle - As I described it; here, upon our lee - Is mainland all, and there the Nid comes down, - The timber-shouldering Nid, from endless woods - And wilder valleys where scant grain is grown. - Now bend your glances as my finger points,— - Lo, there it is, the spire of Apendal.’” - -Arrangements had been made with his intimate German friend, whom he first -met in Egypt, and in whom Mr. Taylor then took such a deep interest, to -meet him at the hotel in Christiania, from which place they purposed to -start on a trip overland through Norway to Drontheim, and from that city -by steamer to the northern capes of Norway, where the summer sun did -not rise or set. Another “sacred triad” was formed—one German and two -Americans—equally fortunate and equally pleasant with the former triad in -Egypt. - -Their course lay through the rugged and drear landscape of Southern -Norway, and at the time they made their journey the sky was overcast -and the air loaded with moisture, giving every bleak cliff a bleaker -appearance, and every barren waste a gloomier aspect. With all his -poetical nature, Mr. Taylor did not find much to admire on his way to -Drontheim. His sympathy was aroused for the poor farmers who dwell in -such a solitude as seemed to envelop the land, and he was glad when the -gleams of the river announced their approach to Drontheim. - -From Drontheim they sailed by the Hammerfest line on the 18th of July, -following the coast so noted for its fantastic crags and startling -cliffs. The coast scenery from Drontheim to Hammerfest is unquestionably -the most broken and grand in the world. Its black towers, enormous -arches, gigantic peaks, and resounding caverns excel anything in the way -of sombre grandeur that travellers elsewhere have described. - -As they approached the Arctic Circle the mountains became capped with -snow, and chilly winds blew off the land, and the days became so long -that the evening and the morning succeeded each other with but an -intervening twilight. Gradually the midnights grew brighter until, as -they proceeded round the North Cape, the sun shone in all its splendor -throughout the twenty-four hours. - -After several days spent in visiting the small fishing villages along the -northern coast, they again turned southward and disembarked at Drontheim, -from which place they took passage to Bergen. - -From Bergen they travelled on horseback and by boats, over the interior -lakes to Christiania, and from that city through the interior of -Wermeland and Delecarlia to Stockholm, where they arrived about the -middle of September. There Mr. Taylor remained long enough to call on -many of the friends whom he had made during the previous winter, and then -the “triad” departed for Berlin and Gotha. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - - His Marriage.—German Relatives.—Intention of visiting - Siberia.—Goes to Greece instead.—Dalmatia.—Spolato.—Arrival - at Athens.—His first View of the Propylæa.—The - Parthenon.—Excursion to Crete.—Earthquake at - Corinth.—Mycenæ.—Sparta.—The Ruins of Olympia.—Visit to - Thermopylæ.—Aulis.—Return to Athens.—His Acquirements. - - -Mr. Taylor was married in October following his return from Norway and -Sweden, to Marie Hansen, whose father had already gained a world-wide -reputation as an astronomer through his works on Physical Astronomy, and -was then winning renown for his “Tables de la Lune,” for which he was -given a prize by the English Government, as a public benefactor. He was -a man of remarkable mathematical genius, universally respected, and the -founder of the Erfurt Observatory near Gotha. It was a family of scholars -which received Mr. Taylor as a son and brother, and a fortunate alliance -for the world of letters. It would be interesting to our readers, no -doubt, to know all about the ceremony, the guests, the letters, and the -relatives. But that which at some future day may be elevated to the -plane of history, would be mere gossip now; and could only serve, for -the present, to bring more vividly before his loved ones living, the -greatness and reality of their loss. - -Not even such an event as his marriage was allowed to interfere with his -work. His travels in the North had been in a great measure described in -detail from day to day, as he stopped for food and rest, and when he left -Stockholm for Germany, a large pile of manuscript had accumulated, which -needed correction and arrangement before being sent to his publishers -in New York. To this he applied himself closely, and a month after -his marriage, was in London making the closing arrangements for the -appearance of his book on “Northern Travel,” published by G. P. Putnam & -Sons, and containing a condensed account of his winter and summer in the -Norse countries. - -Immediately after despatching the manuscript for the book, together -with several letters for the press, he made his preparations for a -winter’s sojourn in Greece. He had purposed to take a trip from St. -Petersburg across the continent of Asia, through Siberia to Kamtschatka, -and returning through Persia and by the shores of the Black Sea. But -it appears that neither Mr. Greeley, nor Mr. Putnam, nor his German -relatives approved of the undertaking, which, together with some -unsatisfactory financial details, caused him to abandon the snows of -Siberia for the sunshine of Attica. - -This arrangement must have been a far more pleasant one for him, as Mrs. -Taylor and other friends could accompany him to Athens, and as that land -was so connected with the richest themes for poets and scholars. Many -of Byron’s poems had been favorites with Mr. Taylor from his boyhood, -and especially familiar were those passages relating to Greece; for the -reading-books in use by American scholars, in his school-days, contained, -very wisely, several selections from Byron’s patriotic poems relating to -Greece. To this was added an appreciation of “Childe Harold,” gained by -visiting the Italian scenery where Byron lived during those years of his -voluntary exile. - -The party left Gotha in the early part of December, 1857, and going down -the Dalmatian coast of the Adriatic Gulf, visited the ancient town of -Spolato, where the ruins of the Emperor Diocletian’s palaces are still -imposing and beautiful. Without losing the steamer, which put in at all -the small ports along the route, they skirted the southern shores of the -Gulf of Corinth; and, after crossing the Isthmus near Ancient Corinth, -sailed direct for Piræus. - -To a man of Mr. Taylor’s mental capacity and disposition, the country -afforded the means for the highest enjoyment. Men may be as unsentimental -as a beast, and as regardless of ancient greatness as a savage, and yet -their lives will be influenced more or less by a sojourn in old Greece. -Later philosophers declare, and attempt to prove it on scientific -principles, that the typography of the country, added to the influences -of the climate, produced the great minds of ancient Greece. If so, -which may be wholly or partially true, then the same hills and the same -valleys, combined with the same climate, must influence the mental -characteristics of those who live there now. If, however, as is too -frequently the fact to make a clear case of the philosophers’ claims, -men do reside under the Acropolis and in the Academian groves wholly -unaffected by the scenery, certain it is that to a poet whose whole -ambition and only joy was found in a determination to follow the lead of -Homer, Simonides, and Tyrtæus, it was an ecstasy of mental satisfaction -to feel the influence of the surrounding associations. Even Mr. Taylor -feared that his name as a poet would lead people to consider his -descriptions to be somewhat colored by the imagination, and labored hard -to avoid the imputation. He, with great candor and truth, claimed that -men are as great as they were in the days of Demosthenes and Aristides, -although the community to which they belonged has moved farther west. He -did not believe that all the great and noble and good belonged to the -past. He recognized the great fact that dead men have better reputations -than living ones, and that the longer a man lies in his grave the greater -seem his virtues, and the less the number and magnitude of his faults, -_i. e._ if he is not forgotten altogether. So, Mr. Taylor inserted such -thoughts in his letters and conversation, for the sake of seasoning his -enthusiasm, which he feared was too active. But it was as useless for -him as it was for Byron, and as it has been for other American poets -who visited those ancient groves, to keep above or outside the subtle -and powerful influences which Greece puts forth. Oh! land of heroes, -patriots, poets, philosophers, orators, and musicians! Oh, land of -republics and birthplace of fleets! How like a visit to the homes of -Solon, Plato, Socrates, and Polycrates it is to walk thy fields, and how -like a flight to the homes of the gods, to dream through thy moonlit -nights! - -Mr. Taylor made the most of his winter in Greece, and visited every -place of ancient renown which was accessible to travellers. He scarcely -waited for the dawn of his first day in Athens before he hastened to -the Acropolis, and admired its marvels and historical suggestions. At -the Propylæa, which crowns the mountain with beauty and majesty, where -all the destructive inventions of two thousand years have failed to -annihilate the monument which Phidias and Calicrates erected to their -genius, Mr. Taylor was overwhelmed with emotions, and gazed with wonder -at the chaste sculpture which adorns the most graceful structure ever -made of marble, and in silent awe contemplated the pillars, cornices, -tablets, pavements, and broken ornaments with which he was surrounded. -Where was the Coliseum he had praised so much when a boy? Where were -the cathedrals, palaces, and castles he had regarded as so sublime? -Everything he had seen sank into insignificance beside the ponderous yet -exquisitely beautiful pile before him. He was so affected, that when -he spoke he whispered, as if in the presence of Jupiter, and his eyes -grew moist as he tried to compass the grandeur of the lofty Parthenon -and Propylæa. This language will seem extravagant to the reader who -has not felt such sensations. The writer, who makes no pretensions of -being a poet either in letters or by nature, has been so filled with -the unspeakable grandeur of some of the scenes from the heights of the -Alps, Himalayas, and Rocky Mountains, as to find himself, to his own -surprise, shedding copious streams of tears. It is a sensation unknown -to common experience, and our language has no adequate terms with which -to describe it. Such a feeling, beyond a doubt, was that which reigned -in his sensitive nature when he stood in the porch of the Parthenon. -To him, those marvels of art produced the impression which nothing but -the mightiest mountain-peaks could awaken in others. It must have been -grand to possess such a nature; and it is grand to follow him through his -letters and books. There was the crowning point of all his travel. It had -been reserved until near the end of his wanderings, and a fitting climax -it was. The poet and traveller amid the ruins of Athens! He spent many -happy hours amid the crumbling evidences of Athenian greatness. Temples -uncounted lay half-buried in the broken soil. Those of Demeter, Hercules, -Apollo, Aphrodite, Hephæstus, Theseus, Dioscuri, could be traced in the -earth, or confronted the antiquarian with majestic porches; while the -Odeon, Gymnasium, Museum, Aglaurium, Lyceum, Prytanæum, Erechtheum, -Propylæa, and Parthenon, can easily be reconstructed in the imagination -of any student of Greek history with the aid of their wonderful ruins. -And when those colossal edifices stand forth in their beauty, it is but -a step to the sublimest dreams, wherein Socrates, Anaxagoras, Pericles, -Eschylus, Sophocles, Ictinus, Mnesicles, and their noble cotemporaries, -walked through the colonnades, along the payed streets, and among the -verdant, classic groves which bordered on the Ilissus. The walls of -Athens, extending from Hymettus to the distant sea, the city crowded -with the wealth of the commercial world, and the fields as verdant and -fruitful as now. - -Mr. Taylor often remarked that he should never have been a successful -traveller had he not been a poet; and it might be added that persons, -in whom the power to recall the past through the debris of the present -is wholly lacking, had better not travel at all. There are hills in -Pennsylvania, or New Hampshire, far more picturesque than the Acropolis, -and on them might be erected a tolerably accurate copy of the Propylæa, -Erechtheum, and Parthenon as they now stand, and the curious might -visit them to observe the beauty of the architecture and remark the -foolishness of those who constructed them. Unconnected with any history, -and the originals unheard of, they would be nothing but mere monuments to -folly, with all their symmetry. Take away from Athens the records of its -grand humanity; the stories of its achievements; the tales concerning -the wonders of its genius; the renown of its arms; the memories of its -misfortunes; and all the life, the spirit, that shines through its -fragments, as the soul beams through the eye of a loved face, would be -extinguished, and no great good could come from seeing them. - -We mention these things, not to excuse Mr. Taylor for his strong -assertions concerning the effect these ruins had upon him, but to give -to the student a clearer insight into the nature and life of the poet, -Bayard Taylor. From Athens, after visiting the king and queen, Mr. Taylor -made excursions into the interior, and to the Island of Crete, visiting, -in his various tours, Candia, Rhithymnos, Corinth, Leuetra, Mycenæ, -Arcadia, Sparta, Parnassus, Platea, Thermopylæ, and various other fields, -mountains, and ruins connected with ancient Greece. At Crete he was -most graciously welcomed by the Turkish governor, and was treated with -the most generous hospitality by the people and officials, throughout a -somewhat lengthy journey about the island. It was there that he met the -American consul who was going to start the commerce of Crete by bringing -in a cargo of rum to exchange for the products of the island, and who -was so startled by Mr. Taylor’s frankly avowed hope, that the ship would -be wrecked before the curse of drunkenness was added to the other Cretan -vices. Mr. Taylor gave a somewhat different version of the affair, -not changing however its exposition of his sentiments on the subject -of drunkenness. But it is to be supposed, that the consul, who was so -severely rebuked, would have the best reason for remembering it, and, as -his version throws no discredit on Mr. Taylor, and varies in no important -particular from that given by Mr. Taylor, we give the consul the benefit -of the story. - -At Corinth he had a startling experience in an earthquake, feeling the -earth rise and fall with that sickening movement, creating a nausea like -the sea-sickness of a whole voyage concentrated into a few minutes, and -saw the stone walls of the house crumbling and splitting about him. He -arrived after the greatest shock had passed, or he would have seen whole -streets of buildings thrown down, for the village was half in ruins -when he reached the place. Near Corinth he saw the plain whereon were -celebrated the Isthmian games and repeated sections of Schiller’s poem, -“The Gods of Greece.” - -At Argolis he saw the gateway of Mycenæ, guarded by the celebrated stone -lions, and tried to connect Agamemnon and Orestes with the landscapes. - -At Sparta he trod the sward above the buried palaces, and having no -poets’ names to rhyme with Lycurgus and Leonidas, he hurried on to scenes -less suggestive of mere physical endurance and bloody encounters. - -In Mania, within the boundaries of ancient Sparta, he was delighted to -find the descendants of the ancient Greeks, whose blood was not diluted -by that of Turks, Slavs, Italians, and Egyptians. He found there what no -other part of Greece visited by him could boast, the Greek face and form -such as Phidias, Praxiteles, and Lysippus portrayed in their immortal -sculptures. At Olympia he saw the home of Xenophon, and the foundations -of that temple of Olympus from whence the Greek chronology was taken, -near which were celebrated the great Olympian Games, around which were -once those sacred groves so often mentioned in Greek poetry and tragedy, -and where the most artistic work of Phidias stood,—the ivory statue of -Jupiter. - -At Thebes he recalled the deeds of Pindar, Epaminondas, and the heroes of -the Trojan War. - -At Delphi he looked over the forests that clothe the lofty Parnassus, -gazed into the rocky cleft from which the priestesses received their -communications, and saw the sites of temples used for gardens, and blocks -from the sacred shrines used for cellar walls. - -At Thermopylæ he marked the spot where the heroes fought and the narrow -gorge where they fell, with feelings of respect and pride. He said that -the story of such deeds should never be allowed to die. - -At “Aulis” he saw where Jason launched his ships to sail in search of -the Golden Fleece, and repeated a part of the Argonautic story in modern -Greek. - -On all these journeys Mr. Taylor displayed the same fearless, adventurous -spirit, and was frequently in danger. By fortunate accidents he was -prevented from falling into the hands of brigands, and returned to -Athens, after his prolonged journeys, in good health, and with the -accounts of his journeys nearly complete in his pocket. - -When he left Athens in the spring for Constantinople, he had become -acquainted with all parts of ancient Greece, and was able to give to his -readers a fund of valuable information concerning the country and its -products, the people and their industries. He had kept up that triple -life which characterized all his later travels in Europe and Asia, and -saw everything modern in the way of manners, races, products, commerce, -government, and everything that remained of the ancient days in the shape -of monuments, temples, or ruins, together with those undefinable yet real -suggestions which come to the poet, and to him alone. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - - From Constantinople to Gotha.—Visit to Russia.—Moscow - and St. Petersburg.—Return to Prussia.—Arrival in the - United States.—Incessant Work.—Lecturing and Travels in - California.—The Construction of Cedarcroft.—His Patriotic - Addresses and Poems.—Visits Germany in 1861.—Anxiety for the - Fate of His Nation.—Life at Cedarcroft. - - -After a short stay in Constantinople, the party, under the guidance -of Mr. Taylor, went by steamer to the mouth of the Danube, and thence -up that river to his new home at Gotha. Mr. Taylor had set his heart -on building a residence in the oak woodland near his old home at -Kennett, and now that he was married, his anxiety to see it completed -led him to think seriously of returning at once to the United States. -Having, however, a vague fear that he might not again visit Europe as a -traveller, and being unwilling to leave the largest empire in the world -unvisited, he resolved to make a hasty trip to Moscow and St. Petersburg. -It was not a tour which he would personally enjoy as he had his stay -in Greece, yet it was needed to make complete his knowledge of Europe. -Hence he hastened away from Gotha, and, taking Cracow, the salt mines of -Wieliczka and Warsaw in his route, arrived at Moscow about the middle -of June. Having seen the wonders of that ancient capital of Russia, he -went by railroad direct to St. Petersburg. There he was much interested -in the massive structures of granite and marble which stand over the -land which was once an impassable marsh, and pondered, with feelings -of great wonder, upon the control which man exercises over nature. The -grand squares, the wide Boulevards, the ponderous bridges, the extensive -palaces, the solid cathedral, and the broad quays and docks, give an -impression of grandeur in simplicity, which no other city possesses. The -great capital has none of that air of gayety and ostentation which one -notices in Paris and London; but is stately, dignified, grand. Everything -is done on a large scale, and the buildings, halls, streets, and parades, -are alike suggestive of might, and a strong will. The city is Peter the -Great in stone. It conveys the impression to the traveller, of strength -without coarseness, and of beauty without display. - -Little did Mr. Taylor expect, when he bade those extensive, massive -palaces adieu, that he should return to that city, in a few years, as the -official representative of a powerful nation. Probably the idea of being -again in those galleries of art, was as remote from his calculations as -was the idea of being minister of the United States at the court of the -German Empire, when he walked reverently along the Unter-den-Linden at -Berlin for the first time, trying to get a peep at the distant carriage -of the king. - -From St. Petersburg, he took the inland route for Prussia, passing -through the Baltic provinces, and studying the habits and appearance of -the people. His return to Gotha, from Russia, was regarded by himself, -and by his friends, as the close of his wanderings, and, with a sigh of -relief, he laid down his pen, and declared that he wished for nothing -more than to “settle down in a home of his own near the old farm in the -States.” A few weeks later, and he was receiving the congratulations of -his friends in New York, and had taken his place at the familiar desk in -the office of the New York “Tribune.” - -Then began another season of closest and severest mental labor. Rest, -during his waking hours, seemed impossible, and even the hours which he -spent at the Literary Club and at his rooms, were more or less connected -with his work. Literature was his work, and literature was his play. He -had become enamored of Goethe and Schiller, and already conceived the -idea of giving to the world a translation of their best works. He had the -“Argument” of the “Poet’s Journal” in his mind, and every visit to the -scenes of his first love, in the companionship of the second, served to -urge him to complete and publish it. - -He had become one of the noted men of America, and the calls, to lecture, -to write, to visit, to attend dinners, and write editorials, were -incessant and persistent. - -The construction of his house took much of his attention, and he -ransacked his collections of sketches, and photographs of villas, -palaces, and cottages in the Old World, to find such a plan as he could -be satisfied to adopt. It was no child’s play with him to construct -the building wherein to make his home. He had thought of the matter -from boyhood, and that clump of oaks on the highland, about a mile to -the westward of Kennett Square, and within a short distance of the -old homestead, had ever been his choice. His years of wanderings had -sharpened his desire for a permanent home, and, with characteristic -care and thoroughness, he investigated his plans and means. He had -owned the land for five years, and had gloried in being the owner of -American soil, without which one can hardly claim to be an American. He -attended to all the details of rooms, closets, stairways, windows, brick, -stone, cornices, roof, tower, with caution and deliberation; and when -he contracted with the masons, carpenters, and gardeners, he knew just -what was needed, and told to each what was expected of them. There was -a ceremony attendant on breaking the ground, a procession, and a box of -records deposited in the foundation, when the corner-stone was laid, and -such a house-warming when it was dedicated October 18 and 19, 1860, as -Americans seldom enjoy. There was feasting, singing, original poetry, -original plays, and one of the happiest, merriest companies ever gathered -under a hospitable roof. - -But while the building was being slowly and carefully constructed, with -its thick walls of stone and brick, Mr. Taylor, was engaged no less in -his editorial tasks. The summer after his return from Europe, he made -several excursions in an editorial capacity, one of which took him again -to California. The great changes in the city of San Francisco, and in the -appearance of the entire State, so far as he visited it, were marvellous, -and were as marvellously pictured to the minds of his readers. His time -was much occupied in delivering lectures in the various cities of the -State; but he used his disciplined eyes and ears to such advantage that -he gave in his book the most full and accurate account of California,—its -agriculture, its institutions, its lakes, its mountains, its great trees, -its mines, its enterprises, and its people,—to be found in any work of -the kind now in print. It is astonishing how much he could put into a -paragraph, without giving it a crowded appearance! - -His time, from the day he returned from California, was mostly engaged -in delivering lectures and writing letters. He was not rich, and he was -generous. He had a house to build, and to pay for. Furniture must be -had, and his accumulated fortune was not large enough for all. Hence he -travelled, and he delivered lectures, notwithstanding the disagreeable -experiences which he was compelled to endure. He yearned to be at the -translation of “Faust”; but necessity drove him to talk of travel and -biography. He had a home, for “it is home where the heart is,” and he -longed to be in it. But necessity sent him forth with a rude hand, and -held him aloof from his own. Oh! that is the saddest experience in -human life! To feel called to a certain work; to know that there is one -task for which one is peculiarly fitted by nature and by discipline; -to see before him still the beckoning forms which have hovered in the -glory of every setting sun, since earliest childhood; to feel that -one’s productions, which might be valuable, are unfinished, and hardly -shaped, before they are forced into the hands of conscienceless critics, -is one of the most miserable conditions in life. This condition, which -has worn out so many men of genius, and which has, with tyrannical -coldness, compelled authors to fence up their own literary highway, or -die, was not felt by Mr. Taylor in that degree that it was by some of his -cotemporaries,—and by many since his time. But he felt it often enough -and keenly enough to sympathize with others, and most forcibly expressed -their feelings in his “Picture of Saint John.” - - “But soon assailed my home the need of gold, - The miserable wants that plague and fret, - Repeated ever, battling with our hold - On all immortal aims, lest, overbold - In arrogance of gift, we dare forget - The balanced curse; ah, me! that finest powers, - Must stoop to menial services, and set - Their growth below the unlaborious flowers.” - -Yet manfully did he toil, neglecting sleep and food, eager to teach, -determined to earn honestly the money which he was to receive. He -desired to have a home free from debt, to which he could invite his -friends, and feel that his hospitality could be safely and honestly -extended to all those whom he loved and honored. So he toiled, as men -seldom toil, using every moment on railway and steamboat, to write out -those pages which his engagements prevented him from doing at home. As a -consequence, his health began to decline, and oft-repeated warnings of -friends and of physicians, which he tried to keep from the knowledge of -his relatives, drove him from the lucrative field of lecturing. - -With his face set, steadfastly set, toward the tombs of Goethe and of -Schiller, seeing the great obligation he was under, to a Providence which -had so richly endowed him, to give to man some masterpiece, he turned at -once toward his loved Germany, when he felt the necessity of a change of -home, and a change of work. - -But the exciting events immediately preceding the War of the Great -Rebellion, so stirred his patriotic soul, that he turned his thought and -work into patriotic channels, and worked on until late in the spring of -1861. His words in the newspapers, in the magazines, and on the rostrum, -were ringing trumpet-calls to the defence of the Republic. The Chinese -say that “there are words which are deeds.” That could be said of those -Mr. Taylor uttered. His public addresses were enthusiastic appeals for -the salvation of the nation, and his poems had in them the boldest spirit -of patriotism. - -In his poem, “Through Baltimore,” written in April, 1861, he described -the approach of the Union soldiers to Baltimore, the onset of the mob, -and closed the story with these words:— - - “No, never! By that outrage black, - A solemn oath we swore, - To bring the Keystone’s thousands back, - Strike down the dastards who attack, - And leave a red and fiery track - Through Baltimore! - - Bow down, in haste, thy guilty head! - God’s wrath is swift and sore: - The sky with gathering bolts is red,— - Cleanse from thy skirts the slaughter shed, - Or make thyself an ashen bed, - O Baltimore!” - -On the 30th of April, 1861, he wrote an address to the American people, -the last verse of which expressed the sentiment of the whole poem and we -insert it here:— - - “Slow to resolve, be swift to do! - Teach ye the False how fight the True! - How bucklered Perfidy shall feel - In her black heart the Patriot’s steel; - How sure the bolt that Justice wings; - How weak the arm a traitor brings; - How mighty they, who steadfast stand - For Freedom’s Flag and Freedom’s Land!” - -But the poem which created the greatest enthusiasm at the time of its -publication, and which is still a most touchingly inspiring selection, -was written at about the same time as the “Address to the American -People,” possibly ten days later, and it was given the title of “Scott -and the Veteran.” To fully appreciate the power of those verses, one -needs to recall the hesitation, and the excitement, and the uncertainty -which the nation felt in that dark hour. In a time like that, a few -clear, unmistakable words work wonders with a people. Well does the -writer recall the electrical effect of that poem in 1861, when read at a -patriotic gathering of the yeomen, in a valley of the Berkshire Hills, in -Western Massachusetts. The lines were not so polished, nor the words so -choice as many other verses which Mr. Taylor had written; but they seem -to come again as they were then recited, and awaken memories of mountain -glens, and “mountain boys”; of camps and battles, of fields of cotton -made fields of carnage; of loved faces looking skyward, cold and still; -of a nation saved, redeemed, renewed. The three closing verses we have -never forgotten. - - “If they should fire on Pickens, let the Colonel in command - Put me upon the rampart, with the flagstaff in my hand: - No odds how hot the cannon-smoke, or how the shells may fly; - I’ll hold the Stars and Stripes aloft, and hold them till I die! - - I’m ready, General, so you let a post to me be given, - Where Washington can see me, as he looks from highest heaven, - And say to Putnam at his side, or, may be, General Wayne; - ‘There stands old Billy Johnson, that fought at Lundy’s Lane!’ - - And when the fight is hottest, before the traitors fly, - When shell and ball are screeching and bursting in the sky, - If any shot should hit me, and lay me on my face, - My soul would go to Washington’s, and not to Arnold’s place!” - -In June, the necessity of rest, and the desire to obtain it in such a -way as to get pleasure and advantage from his release, influenced him to -take a trip to his wife’s old home, and to spend a month at the country -residence of a friend which was situated on slopes of the Thuringian -Forest, not far from Weimar and Gotha. It was a lovely spot, and a -pretty cottage, and about him were numberless reminders of Schiller and -Goethe, with whose names he was so creditably to connect his own. Whether -he gained the rest he needed or not, is a question still undecided. -Certainly he did not gain as much as he would, had he left Goethe’s -“Faust,” and his own new volume of poems behind him, and chafed much less -under his great suspense concerning the results of the American War. He -ran up the American flag to the ridge-pole of his cottage, and walked -about uneasily, awaiting news from home. He talked of the war with his -neighbors and visitors, wrote about it to whomsoever of his friends he -thought might not understand the merits of the contest, and, at last, -about the 1st of August, hastily broke up his cosy housekeeping, and -returned to America. - -[Illustration: CEDARCROFT, KENNETT SQUARE, PA.] - -When he again opened the doors of his dwelling at Kennett, which he -had given the poetical name of “Cedarcroft,” it was to welcome to his -fireside all who loved their country. But, as he afterwards proudly -declared, no traitor ever crossed its threshold. Many distinguished -men visited him, including members of Congress, and of the President’s -Cabinet. - -[Illustration: NICHOLAS BRIDGE] - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - - Appointed as Secretary of Legation.—Life in St. - Petersburg.—Literary Labors.—His Home at Kennett.—Publication - of his Poems.—Visits Iceland—His Poem at the Millennial - Celebration.—Appointment as Minister to Berlin.—His - Congratulations.—Reception at Berlin.—His Death. - - -In the summer of 1862, Mr. Taylor accepted the appointment as Secretary -of Legation at St. Petersburg, Russia, for which he was indebted to -his life-long friend, the Hon. George H. Boker, of Philadelphia, whose -services to the nation as Minister Plenipotentiary, as well as his gifts -as an author, have made his name familiar to the reading public of -America. - -It does not appear that the official duties connected with his office -especially pleased Mr. Taylor, and it is believed by his friends that -he regarded them in about the same light that Hawthorne looked upon his -office. It was an honorable and responsible position, especially so -during 1862 and 1863, when the United States was laboring so earnestly, -and finally so successfully, to gain the friendship of Russia, and Mr. -Taylor appreciated it. Certainly the American Legation at St. Petersburg -was never more popular at the Court of the Emperor than during the -term of Mr. Taylor’s sojourn. Whatever the credit which is due to -the Minister during his stay, it is no disparagement to say that Mr. -Taylor made many warm friends in St. Petersburg, who remember him, and -weep for his untimely death. When the duties of the Legation devolved -entirely upon him, as _charge d’affairs_, he was treated with the -greatest consideration, and for a time the court circles believed that -the President of the United States would promote him to the office of -Ambassador, as appeared to them to be his due. - -But Mr. Taylor was in no wise an office-seeker, and cared more for the -honor of writing a good book than for any office in the gift of the -President. So the autumn, winter, and spring which Mr. Taylor spent in -St. Petersburg were devoted to his studies of literature, so far as he -could do so without neglecting his duties. He made several excursions -into the interior of Russia, and made himself acquainted with the -language and writings of Russian authors. Work! work! work! Incessantly -writing, reading, or observing! Such was his life in St. Petersburg. -His envious critics have said that his genius all lay in the ability -to do hard work. But does not successful hard work exhibit genius in -its greatest strength? Some may, in one dash, make themselves famous. -Authors may concentrate all their power in a single leap, and reach the -heights of fame at one bound. But of such men you seldom hear a second -success. Their single work is all that they do well. Not so with Mr. -Taylor. The publication of one book only left the way clear for a better -successor. His Muse was not uncertain, his genius was not spasmodic. Two -of his poems, written in Russia, namely, “The Neva,” and “A Thousand -Years,” were afterwards translated into Russian, and received the hearty -encomiums of the cultured nobility. His story of “Beauty and the Beast,” -located at Novgorod, to which place Mr. Taylor made an excursion while -connected with the American Legation at St. Petersburg, has also been -translated into the Russian language, together with other selections from -his writings, showing that his literary renown did not suffer by his -residence in Russia. - -But his highest ambition in life was to publish a worthy translation of -Goethe and Schiller, together with a biography of both. This had been -his purpose from the time he first visited Weimar and Gotha. To this his -other labors became gradually subordinated. - -How he came to turn his attention to prose fiction can be accounted -for on the supposition that he adopted that character for the purpose -of testing his own powers, and securing an income which would enable -him to prosecute his studies and investigations relating to Goethe and -Schiller. He did not hope to be a leading novelist, and the public placed -a much higher estimate on his novels than he did. The desire he had to -immortalize his old home, the urgent appeals of friends, and the advice -of acquaintances, pressed him into a field which he confessed in his -lectures was uncongenial. Yet he had no more reason to be ashamed of -“Hannah Thurston,” “John Godfrey’s Fortunes,” and the “Story of Kennett,” -brought out soon after his return from Russia, than he had thirteen or -fourteen years before to be ashamed of the Jenny Lind prize-song, or the -poem delivered before the Phi Beta Kappa Society of Harvard College. - -After leaving Russia, he soon returned to the United States, and, with -lecturing and writing, occupied the time until again called abroad by a -desire to see some localities visited by Goethe, and describe the great -Paris Exhibition of 1867. Then followed those years of work at home, -and travel abroad and at home, as his duties as author, editor, and -correspondent demanded. In 1866 appeared his poem, “Picture of St. John,” -which was immediately translated into Italian by an admirer in Florence. -His poem, “The Ballad of Abraham Lincoln,” appeared in 1869, “Goethe’s -Faust,” in 1871, “The Masque of the Gods,” in 1872, “Lars, a Pastoral of -Norway,” in 1873, “The Prophet, a Tragedy,” in 1874, and “Home Pastorals, -Ballads, and Lyrics,” in 1875. - -In the spring of 1874, Mr. Taylor visited Iceland as the correspondent -of the New York “Tribune.” He had visited Egypt, and was to return to -America after a short stay in Europe, but the news of the Millennial -Celebration, which was to take place on the island August 2d and 3d, -called a large number of people to the festivities, and it was fitting -that a great American newspaper should be represented. But neither the -people of Iceland, nor the editors of the “Tribune,” nor Mr. Taylor, -had any idea, when he set out, that his visit would be magnified -into a recognition of the event by the people of the United States. -His knowledge of the Danish language, and his study of the Icelandic -tongue, according to his plan laid in Copenhagen eighteen years before, -when on his way to the Northern Ocean, made him peculiarly fitted -for the position in which he was, by a conjunction of unforeseen -circumstances, unexpectedly thrown. But his genius was as spontaneous -as it was persevering; for in a few moments of time, amid confusion, -and conversation in which he took part, he wrote the poem, “America to -Iceland,” which, when read to the Icelanders in their own language, on -the occasion of their largest gathering, created the greatest enthusiasm. -One verse ran thus,— - - “Hail, mother-land of Skalds and heroes, - By love of freedom hither hurled; - Fire in their hearts as in their mountains, - And strength like thine to shake the world!” - -Mr. Taylor’s printed description of the scenery, people, government, and -geysers of Iceland, is a standard work on that almost unknown island, and -is written in a vein readable and refined. As it shows rather the fruit -of a cultured life than the processes of culture, its contents require no -extended notice in a work like this. - -In the winter (February) of 1878, President Hayes offered Mr. Taylor the -vacant mission at Berlin, expressing, at the same time, his conviction -that there was no other American living who could so nobly and creditably -fill the position of Minister of the United States to the German Empire. -Mr. Taylor’s fame as a German scholar; his relation, by marriage, to the -German people; his popularity at home and in Germany; and his creditable -performance of his duties in a like position at St. Petersburg, made it -peculiarly fitting that he should represent the American people in that -official capacity. - -It was an office unsought by Mr. Taylor, but, nevertheless, it was most -cheerfully accepted, as it would give him an opportunity to prosecute his -studies of the life of Goethe and the life of Schiller, which could not -be so well secured in any other way. - -The announcement of the appointment was hailed by the people of the -United States with the liveliest demonstrations of approval. Neither -the appointment of Mr. Bancroft or Mr. Motley received such universal -approbation. All the newspapers, with no known exception, declared it to -be one of the wisest appointments made by the administration. All parties -applauded at home, and the leading journals of Europe mentioned it with -words of praise. - -Mr. Taylor was overwhelmed with congratulations, and President Hayes -received letters from almost every State and city in the Republic, -thanking him for making such a creditable selection, and commending his -wisdom. Mr. Taylor was feasted, and “toasted” by his commercial and -literary friends with an enthusiasm and liberality never known before on -such an occasion. Ovation after ovation was given, and his departure in -April from New York was witnessed by hosts of his friends. - -His welcome at Berlin was scarcely less hearty. Authors and editors -received him with earnest expressions of satisfaction. The Crown Prince, -Prince Bismarck, and even the Emperor and Empress greeted him with most -unusual marks of respect. With a world looking to him for yet greater -things, but thankful for the noble deeds of the past, Mr. Taylor set up -a home at Berlin in which he hoped to finish those books on Goethe and -Schiller, to which he had already given some of the best years of his -life. At last there was rest. Honored by his nation, holding a literary -position above the darts of envy, with a gifted wife and lovely daughter, -he entered his home in Berlin, saying, “Here I can work in peace. Here we -shall be very happy.” - -Who can foretell the future; or, in the words of Goethe’s -“Mephistopheles,”— - - “Who knows how yet the dice may fall?” - -That drear December, of which he had written so much, and which ever -seemed to him the saddest of all the year, found him dangerously ill -with the dropsy. He tried to be quiet, as the physician directed. He -tried to resume the old Arabic resignation which had so often served him -in the place of substantial accomplishment. But the habit of years, the -overmastering desire to labor, the “passion for work” which made his life -successful, held sway over him still. - -His nation had commissioned him to serve at the Court of Berlin. There -was a call for him at the Legation. He could not refuse to go, if he -had the strength to move. So he rises from his bed, and goes forth to -fulfil the desires of his people. It is his last work. His beloved -America receives his dying attention! The next day (Dec. 19, 1878), just -after the messenger had left at his door the first printed copy of his -new work, “Deukalion,” the poet, traveller, scholar, patriot, brother, -husband, and father, left his work unfinished to enter upon the Eternal -Rest. - -He had long suffered from a mild form of a kidney disease, but neither -he nor his physicians attached any importance to that complaint. On the -day that he died, he arose from his bed, dressed, and received visitors. -Feeling tired, at noon, he concluded to lie down and rest. He slept for -a short time, quietly, but on awakening, his mind wandered, and his -symptoms became at once alarming. Dr. Lowe Kalbe, who was Mr. Taylor’s -physician, and an old friend, was with him, together with Mrs. Taylor and -their daughter Lillian. But he sank rapidly, and at four o’clock in the -afternoon, peacefully passed away. - -How like a voice from a living Past came to us his own sad lines, when -they said to us in sadness,—“Bayard Taylor is dead!” - - “I never knew the autumnal eves could wear, - With all their pomp, so drear a hue of Death; - I never knew their still and solemn breath - Could rob the breaking heart of strength to bear, - Feeding the blank submission of despair. - Yet, peace, sad soul! Reproach and pity shine, - Suffused through starry tears: bend thou in prayer, - Rebuked by Love divine.” - - “Why art thou dead? Upon the hills once more - The golden mist of waning Autumn lies; - The slow-pulsed billows wash along the shore, - And phantom isles are floating in the skies. - They wait for thee: a spirit in the sand - Hushes, expectant for thy coming tread; - The light wind pants to lift thy trembling hair; - Inward, the silent land - Lies with its mournful woods;—why art thou dead, - When Earth demands that thou shalt call her fair?” - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - - His Friends.—The Multitude of Mourners.—His London - Acquaintances.—Tennyson, Cornwall, Browning, Carlyle.—German - Popularity.—Auerbach.—Humboldt.—French Authors.—Early American - Friends.—Stoddard, Willis, Kane, Bryant, Halleck, Powers, - Greeley, Mrs. Kirkland, Whittier, Longfellow, Holmes, Emerson, - Lowell, Dana, Alcott, Aldrich, Whipple, Curtis, Fields, Boker, - Chandler.—Relatives. - - -Seldom has the death of a single individual wounded the hearts of so -many personal friends. Men have attained to greater renown, and have -been, perhaps, as extensively known by their writings and their fame; but -rare, indeed, can be found in history the name of one who had so many -intimate companions. The number of those who claimed the right to be his -friends is beyond computation, at this time,—within a few weeks after his -death,—but it includes many of the most noted men of the world. - -Alfred Tennyson, the poet-laureate of England, was an acquaintance -and correspondent of Mr. Taylor’s, their first meeting being at Mr. -Tennyson’s house, Farringford, on the Isle of Wight. - -William Makepeace Thackeray was one of Mr. Taylor’s warmest literary -friends, from the time when they met at a dinner of the Century Club, in -New York, in 1856, until Mr. Thackeray’s death, in 1863. The friendship -was kept alive by Mr. Thackeray’s daughters, who first met Mr. Taylor in -London, in 1858, and who at that time most hospitably entertained him, -together with his brother and sisters. - -Robert Browning often invited Mr. Taylor to join his select company in -London, their acquaintance having begun in 1851; and Barry Cornwall -(Bryan Waller Procter), treated Mr. Taylor with the greatest kindness and -hospitality, writing frequently, until he died, in 1874, to inquire after -Mr. Taylor’s progress in the translation of “Faust.” - -Thomas Carlyle and John Bright were numbered among his correspondents, -although it so happened that he met them but seldom. - -Among the leaders of English literature whose friendship he enjoyed, -there is a very large circle of literary and scientific men who knew Mr. -Taylor through their frequent meetings on social and formal occasions, -and who were well acquainted with Mr. Taylor’s books. From many of these -there came the expressions of great grief, when the fact of Mr. Taylor’s -death was announced in London. - -In Germany he was quite as well known as their native poets of his -time, and he secured the respect and love of nearly every distinguished -literary man and woman in that Empire. One of the sweetest friendships -of his life was with that most fascinating descriptive writer, Berthold -Auerbach, whose “Villa on the Rhine” was given to the American public -in 1869, by Mr. Taylor. These two authors were like twin brothers in -their authorship, and some of Auerbach’s letters, descriptive of European -scenes and people, could be inserted in Mr. Taylor’s books, verbatim, -and the interpolation be scarcely detected. Their regard for each other -equalled their gifts, and one of the sincerest mourners at the funeral of -Mr. Taylor, was that gifted scholar, Berthold Auerbach. - -Mr. Taylor’s first acquaintance with Alexander von Humboldt, was in 1856, -when Mr. Taylor called upon the great naturalist at his home in Berlin. -The reading of Humboldt’s works had been of great benefit to Mr. Taylor, -as a correspondent, and he so informed the Professor, at which he seemed -much pleased. Humboldt took great pains to secure all of Mr. Taylor’s -letters, as they appeared from time to time in the “Tribune,” and most -warmly praised him for the remarkable manner in which he pictured the -scenes he visited. The acquaintance was frequently renewed, and when -Humboldt died, in 1859, Mr. Taylor is said to have been numbered among -the mourning friends, by those in charge of the funeral, although he was -in the United States at the time. For years the public in America was led -to believe that Humboldt ridiculed Mr. Taylor’s writings, although what -could have been the motive of the one who originated the falsehood it is -hard to conjecture. - -With the French authors he did not have a very extended personal -acquaintance, although he had met many of them, and frequently exchanged -books with Victor Hugo and Guillaume Lejean. - -His acquaintances in America included nearly every living author of his -generation, and he numbered among his intimate friends the most gifted -men in the land. Nearest to him, perhaps, stood Richard H. Stoddard, of -New York, and his talented wife, Elizabeth Barstow Stoddard. Both were -born in Massachusetts, and have frequently spent the summer months at -Mrs. Stoddard’s old home in Mattapoisett, in company with Mr. Taylor and -his family. A jolly household it was, when the Taylors and the Stoddards -united their families, as they frequently did, in the city, or on the -seashore. One of Mr. Stoddard’s many books, viz., the Life of Humboldt, -contains an introduction by Mr. Taylor, and many of Mr. Taylor’s poems -were submitted to Mr. and Mrs. Stoddard for their criticism, before he -published them. With them, and with Mr. George Ripley, he appears to have -maintained the most confidential relations to the day of his death. - -Many of his early friends have preceded him to that “silent shore,” -and many tears did he shed over their graves. Nathaniel P. Willis, his -earliest friend in the great city, who encouraged him and introduced him -into a literary life, died at his home of “Idlewild,” in 1867. Washington -Irving, who in his old ago was earnest enough to leave his home at -“Sunnyside” and go to New York, to urge Mr. Taylor to persevere in his -poetical undertakings, and whose advice assisted Mr. Taylor so much in -his various trips into Spain, died in 1873. - -Dr. E. K. Kane, who aided Mr. Taylor in laying out his route through -Norway, and whose letters of introduction and commendation to George -Peabody, the great banker, and to other influential men in England, -opened the way for Mr. Taylor into the best society of that capital, -did not live to meet Mr. Taylor on his return from Norway, as had been -arranged, but died alone, at Havana, in 1857. - -William Cullen Bryant, whose master-pieces were Mr. Taylor’s study, and -whose personal friendship was so much valued, that Mr. Taylor visited -the Berkshire Hills of Massachusetts, wherein the “Thanatopsis” had -its birth, to note “if the scenes would have the same influence on a -stranger, that they appeared to have had on a native,”—he whose counsel -and companionship had, through many years, been counted among the -“richest boons of life,” died a few months before Mr. Taylor, and the -shadow had not passed from Mr. Taylor’s brow, and his poetical tribute -to Bryant was hardly in print, before he was called “to join the caravan -that moves to that mysterious realm.” - -Fitz-Greene Halleck, who used to caution the young poet, and who took -pride in every new achievement of the traveller, died in 1867. - -Horace Greeley, the editor of the Tribune, whose friendship was of the -most steady and substantial kind, and for whom Mr. Taylor felt the -respect due to a parent, expired in 1872. It was when writing of Mr. -Greeley’s death that Mr. Taylor gave the following sketch of their -friendship:— - - “My own intercourse with him, though often interrupted by - absence or divergence of labor, was frank at the start, and - grew closer and more precious with every year. In all my - experience of men, I have never found one whose primitive - impulses revealed themselves with such marvellous purity and - sincerity. His nature often seemed to me as crystal-clear as - that of a child. In my younger and more sensitive days, he - often gave me a transient wound; but such wounds healed without - a scar, and I always found, afterward, that they came from the - lance of a physician, not from the knife of an enemy. - - “I first saw Mr. Greeley in June, 1844, when I was a boy of - nineteen. I applied to him for an engagement to write letters - to the ‘Tribune’ from Germany. His reply was terse enough. ‘No - descriptive letters!’ he said; ‘I am sick of them. When you - have been there long enough to know something, send to me, and, - if there is anything in your letters, I will publish them.’ I - waited nearly a year, and then sent seventeen letters, which - were published. They were shallow enough, I suspect; but what - might they not have been without his warning? - - “Toward the end of 1847, while I was engaged in the unfortunate - enterprise of trying to establish a weekly paper at - Phœnixville, Penn., I wrote him—foreseeing the failure of my - hopes—asking his assistance in procuring literary work in New - York. He advised me (as I suspect he has advised thousands of - young men), to stay in the country. But I _had_ stayed in the - country, and a year too long; so another month found me in New - York, in his office, with my story of disappointment, and my - repeated request for his favorable influence. ‘I think you are - mistaken,’ he said; ‘but I will bear you in mind, if I hear of - any chance.’ - - “Six weeks afterward, to my great surprise (for I supposed - he had quite forgotten me), he sent for me and offered me a - place on the ‘Tribune.’ I worked hard and incessantly during - the summer of 1848, hearing never a word of commendation or - encouragement; but one day in October he suddenly came to my - desk, laid his hand on my shoulder, and said, ‘You have been - faithful; but now you need rest. Take a week’s holiday, and go - into New England.’ I obeyed, and found, on my return, that he - had ordered my salary to be increased.” - -Hiram Powers, the American sculptor, who so heartily welcomed the young -pedestrian to Florence, Italy, and who through the years which followed, -showed a most kindly spirit, making Taylor his guest and confidant, -passed away from the contemplation of beautiful earthly forms to figures -angelic, in 1873. - -Mrs. Kirkland, on whose magazine, in 1848, he began to regain the -literary prestige which the failure of the “Phœnixville Pioneer” took -from him, and who, with Halleck, so kindly opened the way for him to -teach a school in New York, to repair his shattered fortunes, was gone, -together with a large number of their mutual acquaintances in the -literary circles of New York. - -Although the ranks were so sadly depleted, there are still living a most -brilliant company of his early literary friends. - -John G. Whittier, who still resides in Amesbury, his patriotism unabated, -his Quaker simplicity unchanged, and his fame as a poet increasing, as -civilization and freedom extend. To him Mr. Taylor dedicated his poem of -“Lars,” and in it thus mentioned his first meeting with Whittier:— - - “Though many years my heart goes back, - Through checkered years of loss and gain, - To the fair landmark on its track, - When first, upon the Merrimack, - Upon the cottage roof I heard the autumn rain. - A hand that welcomed and that cheered, - To one unknown didst thou extend; - Thou gavest hope to song that feared; - But now by Time and Faith endeared, - I claim the right to call the Poet, Friend!” - -Thus did a Quaker write of a Quaker in dedicating a Quaker poem. - -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow lives and sings as in those days when Taylor -read the story of “Hyperion” and the poetry of “Voices of the Night,” and -resolved to visit Boppart and to be a poet. Mr. Longfellow had a name -to be envied in the annals of literature, when the man of whom we write -was a rollicking, mischievious boy. Yet Taylor has appeared on the stage -of life, has enacted a very important part, and is gone. His friend and -benefactor remains, loved and honored in the old Washington mansion at -Cambridge. - -That marvellously versatile and skilful man, Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, -though born long before Taylor, still walks the halls of learning, -and, while enjoying the deserved rewards of “The Autocrat of the -Breakfast-Table,” “Old Ironsides,” and the numerous other publications in -the shape of essays, poems, and medical text-books, was not ashamed to be -called the friend of Mr. Taylor, and recalls his association with him in -the most affectionate terms. - -Ralph Waldo Emerson, the poet and essayist, who, like Mr. Holmes, enjoys -a world-wide reputation as a man of letters and thoughts, moves among men -as of yore, while his younger acquaintance has passed on before. - -James Russell Lowell, upon whose brilliant literary career Mr. Taylor -said he often “gazed with bewilderment,” but who was among his much-loved -literary friends, adorns the court of Spain, as the Minister of the -United States, while the life of his colleague which began much later, -has ceased to move his hands to friendly grasps, and his lips to living -words. - -Richard H. Dana, Sr., the “eldest poet,” has been dead but a few days. -Amos Bronson Alcott retains his home in Concord, appearing much as he did -when George Ripley, Margaret Fuller, and Theodore Parker were with him on -the “Dial,” which the Taylors read in Pennsylvania; but he who came to -their homes so short a time ago, will cross their thresholds no more. - -Thomas Bailey Aldrich remains, and writes on for the love of it, while -his friend and early companion in New York,—Taylor, who praised his -“Babie Bell” and “Daisie’s Necklace,” has laid down his pen forever, and -will sit down with him no more at social boards. - -George William Curtis, who was born the year before Mr. Taylor, and whose -travels, books, and correspondence for the New York “Tribune,” gave him -such a similar experience, now stands at the front in American oratory, -and looks forward to wider fields of usefulness, as though life had -just begun. As a representative American in literature and in political -influence, he has lost in Mr. Taylor an earnest and efficient comrade. - -Edwin P. Whipple still lives on Beacon Hill in Boston, and, together -with his brilliant wife, recalls the face and words of Taylor with the -affectionate regard of appreciative minds and loving hearts. - -James T. Fields, of Boston, comes and goes, an authority on literary -excellence, and an attractive expounder and biographer, while the boy who -came to him long, long ago, to learn if Ticknor & Fields would publish -a little poem, has grown into manhood, into fame, and passed on to the -Hereafter. The friendship of many years,—so beautiful a sight between -publisher and poet,—which the pressure and uncertainty of business could -not sever or decrease, is broken, ah! so rudely, by the hand of death. - -The Hon. George H. Boker, of Philadelphia, still counts his useful years; -while the boy whose poems he purchased, and whose ambition he directed, -has seen a long and eventful life, using but a part of the time in which -his benefactor has lived. Of him Mr. Taylor wrote in 1855:— - - “You were the mate of my poetic spring; - To you its buds, of little worth, concealed - More than the summer years have since revealed, - Or doubtful autumn from the stem shall fling. - But here they are, the buds, the blossoms blown, - Or rich or scant the wreath is at your feet; - And though it were the freshest ever grown, - To you its incense could not be more sweet, - Since with it goes a love to match your own, - A heart, dear friend, that never falsely beat.” - -George H. Boker, Jr., and Mrs. Taylor are, by the terms of Mr. Taylor’s -will, his literary executors. - -The Hon. J. R. Chandler still resides in the same old home at -Philadelphia, into which the trembling youth came for the loan of fifty -dollars with which to see Europe on foot. After a long and honorable life -he sees no act more creditable than the simple-hearted generosity which -he displayed toward that ambitious stripling. - -His brother, J. Howard Taylor, M.D., and his cousin, Franklin Taylor, -M.D., are both at their official posts of honor in Philadelphia, while -the sisters and parents survive, still in that haze of doubt which -precedes the hard realization that Bayard is dead. - -Mr. Whitelaw Reid may search long before he supplies to the “Tribune’s” -readers all the characteristics of Mr. Taylor’s writings; the literati -of Philadelphia, New York, and Boston, will long wait for the congenial -companion to take his seat; and the thousands of loving hearts in all the -civilized countries of the world and in many uncivilized lands, will not -cease to be sore, until - - “The stern genius, to whose hollow tramp - Echo the startled chambers of the soul, - Waves his inverted torch o’er that pale camp, - Where the archangel’s final trumpets roll.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. - - Translations of “Faust.”—A Life-work.—Discouragements.—The - Scenes in “Faust.”—The Difficulties.—Magnitude of the - Work.—Perseverance.—The Lives of Goethe and Schiller.—Years - in the Work.—The Estimate by Scholars.—Dies with the Work - Unfinished. - - - “Who hath not won a name, and seeks not noble works, - Belongs but to the elements.” - - —_Faust._ - -Some portions of Bayard Taylor’s life have been but lightly touched upon -in the previous chapters, because the writer felt that if mentioned in -their chronological order, he would be compelled to repeat them when he -should reach this chapter. In fact, the history of Taylor’s translation -of “Faust,” which we propose here to outline, so far as we have been able -to learn it, necessarily includes the whole life of Mr. Taylor, from his -first visit to Germany to the day when his mortal body gave way under its -accumulated load of work. “Faust” was intimately interwoven with all the -threads of his life; and whenever Messrs. Houghton, Osgood & Co. publish -another edition of Taylor’s translation, they could not better please and -instruct the public than by prefacing it with a synopsis of Mr. Taylor’s -life, wherein “Faust” was his inspiration and guide. - -It appears that when he began the study of the German language at -Heidelberg, one of the books used by him contained a selection from the -First Part of Goethe’s “Faust.” His instructors and companions there -were delighted with Goethe’s works, and, with pride, mentioned him as -Germany’s greatest man. Meeting him, as it did, on the very threshold of -the language, at a time when there was a romance about the country, and a -fascination in the language which only youthful ambition could give, he -was ambitious to know more about the master-mind, and sought those works -which contained the requisite information. - -At Frankfort, he found the works of Goethe and Schiller, and was -fortunately a member of a household where those authors were admired -and often quoted. He was told, as he afterwards declared, that if he -knew enough of German to read Goethe and Schiller, it was all that he -would need to know of the language. How much that remark included he -did not at the time comprehend, and declared, when his translation was -in print, that he did not feel sure that he was able to read all of -Goethe as Goethe intended it should be read, and that there were very -few Germans who understood the wonderful figures and metaphors found in -Goethe’s “Faust.” Being of an ambitious temperament, which would not be -satisfied with any half-performed task, but which, nevertheless, aimed -at the highest achievements, he conceived the idea, as early as 1850, of -translating into English the greatest work of Goethe. He could not at -that time comprehend how vast an undertaking he had assumed. It required -something more than a mere knowledge of words to be able to translate -accurately and fully; and it was no light task for a person to master the -common meaning of all the words and compounds which Goethe so recklessly -used. - -But when it became necessary not only to be able to give the meaning of -each word by substituting in its stead one of another language, but also -to give the sense and shades of meaning which the words in combination -convey to a reader of the original, then the task became formidable. -But that was not all. As Goethe, like every great genius, had many -eccentricities, as he drew many of his illustrations from events in his -own experience and scenes which he had visited, it was necessary to a -full understanding of the great theme, to study Goethe’s characteristics, -habits of thought, education, and experience. - -In short, if one were to translate Goethe, he must be like Goethe in -experience and mental composition. He must know what Goethe knew; must -look upon man and his complicated life as Goethe looked upon it in his -time and circumstances. To the work of education and self-discipline Mr. -Taylor applied himself most assiduously. - -Twice, when some new difficulty presented itself which he had not -foreseen, he became discouraged and resolved to give up the enterprise. -Once was when the appearance of Rev. Charles T. Brooks’ translation -seemed to forestall him in his hope for a profitable sale of the book; -and once when he saw with unusual clearness the great difficulty of -obtaining words in the English language which should not only express the -meaning, but do so in acceptable rhyme. - -But those discouraging facts were soon surmounted or forgotten in the -great passion of his literary life and the study of the language, -manners, and beliefs of the German people was not abandoned. - -He found in the first volume many references to the superstitions of -the German people, and he set about learning the history of witches, -fairies, sprites, and the Devil, as known to German literature. This, -in itself, is no small task. He then encountered what he thought was, -perhaps, a kind of burlesque on the government and its laws, and to feel -sure that it was so or was not so, he studied the history of the German -principalities, especially of Weimar, where Goethe resided. - -He found many illustrations from the landscapes of Italy, Switzerland, -Greece and Germany, and it became necessary not only to visit those -countries, but to look upon the landscapes mentioned in order to be -sure of the exact meaning of the words of description as they were used -by the great poet. Hence, in Spain, France, Italy, Egypt, Greece, and -Germany, he sought the places mentioned by Goethe in his works, and noted -the correctness or error of his reading. The mountain scenes, more -especially of the Hartz Mountains, and “The Brocken,” were peculiarly -difficult passages in view of the possibly double meaning of many words -when found in any connection, and in view of the peculiar use which -Goethe so independently made of them. Hence, Mr. Taylor made frequent -excursions in Europe during the last eighteen years, with the purpose -in view of obtaining a more accurate knowledge of Goethe’s thoughts. -Frequent references are made to customs now obsolete, to theological -opinions now unknown, and words inserted long out of use or wholly made -by the poet himself. All these required much study. - -To know the poet necessitated a thorough insight into the history of his -time, a knowledge of his companions and the circumstances under which -the poem was planned and written. This led to the study of Schiller’s -life, who was Goethe’s bosom friend, and to trips to the localities where -Goethe resided. Thus the work opened wider and wider at each stage in his -acquirements, until at last the poem he had thought to be able to read -understandingly in a year, was as yet untranslated after a score of years. - -He was probably assisted much by the previous translations, and had them -to criticise and improve upon. But his work was higher than theirs, as -he not only purposed to give the meaning and rhyme, but he intended, as -far as possible, to retain the rhythmical arrangement, and secure to the -English all the charms of arrangement and sound of the German original. - -In this work he was often interrupted by the calls of an editorial -profession, and the cares of a correspondent. His greatest delays were -occasioned, however, by the production of poems on other themes. He is -said to have had the “Deukalion” in mind for more than fifteen years, -and upon that last work of a notable character which he has completed -he bestowed much careful thought. It is a poem which, like those of -Shakespeare and Goethe, grows valuable in proportion to the study -bestowed upon it. - -He began this translation in 1850 in a vague, uncertain way, and has -continued it through all those years and did not lost sight of it -throughout all his various duties, cares, and diversions. Meantime, -he had published the following works: “A Journey to Central Africa,” -“The Lands of the Saracen,” and “Poems and Ballads,” in 1855. “Visit -to India, China, and Japan,” “Poems of the Orient,” and “Poems of Home -and Travel,” in 1855. “Cyclopedia of Modern Travel,” edited in 1856. -“Northern Travel—Sweden, Norway, Denmark, and Lapland,” 1857. “Travels in -Greece and Russia,” “At Home and Abroad,” first series, in 1859. “At Home -and Abroad,” second series, and “The Poet’s Journal,” in 1862. “Hannah -Thurston,” a novel, in 1863. “John Godfrey’s Fortunes,” a novel, in -1864. “The Story of Kennett,” a novel, and “The Picture of Saint John,” -a poem, in 1866. “Colorado, a Summer Trip,” and edited a translation of -the “Frithjof Saga,” from the Swedish, in 1867. “The Byways of Europe,” -and the “Ballad of Abraham Lincoln,” and an edited edition of Auerbach’s -“Villa on the Rhine,” in 1869. “Joseph and His Friends,” a novel, in -1870. Then appeared “Goethe’s Faust,” in 1871, followed by “The Masque -of the Gods” (1872), and a collected and carefully edited edition of the -“Illustrated Library of Travel, Exploration and Adventure,” and “Lars,” -a poem, in 1873;—all of which were in his mind, more or less distinctly, -previous to the publication of “Faust.” But “The History of Germany,” -“The Boys of other Countries,” “Egypt and Iceland,” a volume of travel, -“The Prophet,” and “Home Pastorals,” poems, as well as the recent poem of -“Deukalion,” and “The Echo Club,” were subsequently conceived and written. - -Thus, it will be seen, how full of interruptions the work of translation -must have been when so many volumes, so many thousands miles of travel, -so much editorial work, so many lectures, such need of money, and so much -attention given to the construction of a home, all intervened to distract -and discourage. - -Yet, with a perseverance most laudable and remarkable, he kept ever -before him Goethe and his works. Of the merits of his translation no -final judgment can be given until the public have had more time to -study the work, and until a greater number of scholars have compared it -with the original. It has received great commendation; but such a work -requires age, and much thought. Its beauties lie deep, and are hidden -from superficial minds, and it was Mr. Taylor’s plan to follow the -translation with a companion edition of the lives of Goethe and Schiller, -which would in a pleasant way serve to expound and make attractive that -great poem. - -That his translation is regarded by the most distinguished scholars as -an excellent production and worthy of an exalted position in literature, -is shown by the fact that he has been so often urged by them to go on -with his purposed biography of that great poet. No sooner had Mr. Taylor -allowed the fact to become known, that he was engaged on such a book, -than he was the recipient of many letters from all parts of the world -where English-speaking people live, expressing their satisfaction that -he had undertaken it, and encouraging him in many ways. This fact, -however, rather delayed than assisted the work, for the appearance of -so many great writers awaiting with impatience the publication of the -book, startled him and magnified the importance of his labors. He felt -that the combined biography of Goethe and Schiller would be the crowning -work of his life, and more than once expressed the thought that it might -be his last. To supply the demand for present publications, perform the -duties which devolved upon him in his high office, and keep steadily -advancing with the greater work, required more strength than one frame -could supply. He felt the strain, and sometimes thought it best to -leave everything in the line of labor, and rest. The need of such a -course did not, however, seem imperative until he was too near his end -to ward off the blow. Death came to him in the midst of his work, and in -the most sudden manner. One day he is seen at his work; the next he is -numbered among those that have lived—but are gone. His wife and daughter -(Lillian), with most devoted nursing, had seen the invalid of the -previous weeks reviving and gaining strength, until able again to attend -to business, when, almost without warning, he sinks and dies within a few -hours. - -The book for reference, the packages of manuscript, the letters from -admirers of Goethe and Schiller, the notes and extracts, slips and -pictures, lay where he placed them, accessible to his hand; but the pen -is unmoved, the author is dead, and the Lives of Goethe and Schiller are -incomplete. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. - - Grief at his Death.—Homage of the Great Men of Germany.—Tribute - from Auerbach.—Tributes from his Neighbors at Kennett - Square.—Extracts from Addresses.—The Great Memorial Gathering - at Boston.—The Great Assembly.—Speeches and Letters.—Address of - Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes.—Henry W. Longfellow’s Poem.—Letters - from John G. Whittier, George William Curtis, W. D. Howells, - T. B. Aldrich, James T. Fields, Whitelaw Reid, E. P. - Whipple.—Tributes from his Near Friends.—Closing Quotations - from Mr. Taylor’s Writings. - - -The news of Bayard Taylor’s death called forth universal expressions of -regret. The press, secular and religious, mentioned his decease with -extended editorial comment upon his useful and honorable life. Public -meetings were held to pay tribute to his memory, and the Congress of the -United States passed a bill making Mrs. Taylor a gift of seven thousand -dollars, as a mark of the nation’s appreciation of Mr. Taylor’s services. - -In Germany, memorial services were held, at which the greatest literary -men of that empire made addresses, showing their appreciation of Mr. -Taylor’s friendship and scholarship. But one of the most touching -tributes which Germany has given to the memory of the deceased poet, was -uttered by the celebrated Berthold Auerbach, whose books are now found -in the libraries of many different nations, and who was for many years -the intimate companion of Mr. Taylor. In his address made at Mr. Taylor’s -funeral in Berlin, where were gathered a large number of such men as Dr. -Joseph P. Thompson, Prof. Lepsius, Paul Lindau, Julius Rodenberg, Prof. -Gneist, Dr. Lowe, Count Lehndorff, and numerous government officials, he -thus addressed the mourning friends:— - - “Here, under flowers which have grown on German soil, rests the - perishable encasing wherein for fifty-three years was enshrined - the richly-endowed spirit which bore the name of Bayard Taylor. - Coming races will name thee who never looked into thy kindly - countenance, never grasped thy honest hand, never heard a word - from thy mouth. And yet no, the breath of the lips fadeth away, - but thy words, thy words of song, will endure. In exhortation - to thy surviving dear ones, from the impulse of my heart as - thine oldest friend in the Old World, as thou were wont to call - me, and as representing German literature, I bid thee now a - parting farewell. What thou hast become and art to remain in - the empire of mind history will determine. To-day our hearts - do quake with grief and sorrow, and yet they are exalted. Thou - wert born in the fatherland of Benjamin Franklin, and like him, - to thine honor, raised thyself from a state of manual labor to - be an apostle of the spirit of purity and freedom, and to be a - representative of thy people among an alien nation. No, not in - a land of strangers, for thou wert at home among us; thou hast - died in the land of Goethe, to whose high spirit thou didst - always with devotion turn; thou hast raised him up a monument - before thine own people, and wouldst erect him yet another in - presence of all men; but that design has disappeared with thee. - But thou thyself hast been, and art still, one of them whose - coming he announced—a disciple of the universal literature, in - the free and boundless air of which the everlasting element - in man, scorning the limits of nationality, mounts on bold, - adventurous flights and ever on new poetic fancies sunwards - soars. In thy very latest work thou didst show thou livedst - in that religion which embraces in it all creeds, and in the - name of no one separates one from another. Nature gifted thee - with grace and strength, with a soul clear and full of chaste - enjoyment, with melody and the tuneful voice to search and - proclaim the workings of nature in the eternal and unexhausted - region of being, as well as to sing the earthly and ever-new - joys of married and filial love, of friendship, truth, and - patriotism, and the ever higher ascending revelations of the - history of man. Born in the New World, travelled in the Old, - and oh, so soon torn from the tree of life, thou hast taught - thy country the history of the German people, so that they know - each other as brothers, and of this let us remain mindful. - In tuneful words didst thou for thy people utter the jubilee - acclaim of their anniversary. When it returns, and the husks - of our souls do lie like this one here, then will the lips of - millions yet unborn pronounce the name of Bayard Taylor. May - thy memory be blessed.” - -In one of his poems Mr. Taylor wrote, in 1862,— - - “Fame won at home is of all fame the best,” - -And how gratifying has it been to all of Mr. Taylor’s friends to hear -of the memorial gathering held in his native Kennett, where young and -old vied with each other to do their townsman honor. With a modesty and -sincerity characteristic of the quiet community, they assembled and -talked of the virtues and achievements of their deceased neighbor. - -One townsman (Edwin Brosius) referred to Mr. Taylor’s life, and in his -remarks spoke thus:— - - “Locating in Kennett Square about the time he returned from his - first visit to Europe, I remember him as a bright, blushing, - diffident youth, just entering manhood; and with him I always - associate that gentle and beautiful girl, with matchless eyes, - who inspired many of his early lyrics, and whose death ‘filled - the nest of love with snow.’ He was the pride of the community - then, and as years passed on his course was silently watched - with a quiet joy, like that a parent feels for a child that - seems to follow instinctively the true path. His appointment as - Minister to Germany created a feeling that could be silent no - longer, and here in this hall we gave him the first ovation. - No one thought that when we said ‘Kennett rejoices that the - world acknowledges her son,’ that it would so soon be meet to - say that Kennett mourns that her son is dead. Yes, mourns with - a grief like that which he felt when he wrote ‘Moan, ye wild - winds! around the pane.’ - - “The weariness that oppressed him while being fêted on every - hand, which he thought was only temporary, proved to be the - shadow of the coming change. A few more months and a few more - warnings, and all was over. - - “The strings are silent: who shall dare to wake them; - Though later deeds demand their living powers? - Silent in other lands, what hand shall make them - Leap as of old to shape the songs of ours?” - - “Perhaps I have now said enough; but permit me to speak briefly - of one, still mentally bright under the weight of fourscore - years, the mother of Bayard Taylor, to whom we must be indebted - for much of the honor her son has given us. The latent genius - of the mother was more fully developed in the son, and guarded, - strengthened, and encouraged by her watchful mind, he became - all that she could desire. When here at school, I remember how - bright I thought she was, and my admiration was not lessened - when she called me one of her boys. The voices of two of her - sons are now silent in the tomb. One taken when full of hope, - in the bloom of youth, while defending his country’s flag. The - other in the full fruitage of mature life, bearing many honors, - and the pillar of the family, a loss to her which she cannot - tell. We may speak or write our grief, but no human pen or - tongue can express hers; words cannot tell how nearly the light - of hope goes out when such treasures are taken from a mother’s - sight and heart.” - -Another friend (Wm. B. Preston) contributed a poem, in which two stanzas -read as follows:— - - “Though to the learned thy lofty works - Like mighty hosts appear; - The tale of her own neighborhood - Bids Kennett hold the dear. - - And Cedarcroft! thy name will shine - Through ages long to come, - With Stratford and with Abbotsford, - The monarch minstrel’s home.” - -Another neighbor (William W. Polk) gave an extended sketch of Mr. -Taylor’s career, and another neighbor (Edward Swayne) contributed the -second poem, opening with,— - - “On the margin of the Spree - Rests his body, is it he? - Is it all? or only part? - Questions still my doubting heart. - Traveller! in what realm, elate, - Dost thou read the book of fate? - Poet! in what finer mood - Singest thou infinitude? - Dost thou know the path we tend? - The beginning and the end? - Backward through the twilight past - What evolved us from the vast? - Forward, to what things afar, - We shall mount from star to star? - Canst thou see beyond the brink - What we faintly dare to think? - Though our thoughts are wrung with pain - Yet we question but in vain. - Still no sound the silence breaks, - Not to us the dead awakes.” - -Numerous friends addressed the gathering; there were hymns, quotations, -and letters from others, and the whole people exhibited an interest in -honoring his memory. - -At Boston, Mass., there was held, shortly after Mr. Taylor’s death, one -of the most notable gatherings ever seen in America, so spontaneous and -universal was the desire to do honor to their deceased countryman. The -gathering was in Tremont Temple, and was under the auspices of a literary -association known as “The Boston Young Men’s Congress.” The young men -studiously avoided any arrangement or announcement which would give the -gathering any appearance of display or ceremony, and the friends of Mr. -Taylor in that city came together in such numbers, that long before -the hour appointed for the opening of the meeting, that great hall was -crowded in every part, while immense crowds so choked the entrances that -the police were obliged to close the gates and shut out the throng. -The great majority of the audience consisted of literary persons and -of officials of the State and nation. Russell H. Conwell presided, and -opened the exercises by giving a brief sketch of Mr. Taylor’s early life, -after which there followed other informal addresses by Dr. Oliver Wendell -Holmes; Richard Frothingham, the historian; A. B. Alcott, the author; J. -Boyle O’Reilly, the poet; Hon. J. B. D. Cogswell, the president of the -Massachusetts Senate; Curtis Guild, the author; Dr. William M. Cornell, -and others. Letters were read from James T. Fields, George William -Curtis, W. D. Howells, E. P. Whipple, John G. Whittier, T. B. Aldrich, -and regrets for their inability to be present expressed by President -Rutherford B. Hayes, Hon. Charles Devens, ex-Governor Henry Howard, of -Rhode Island, General B. F. Butler, Richard H. Dana, Sr., W. A. Simmons, -W. F. Warren, D. D., Mrs. Louise Chandler Moulton, Governor Thomas -Talbot, of Massachusetts, and many other distinguished men. - -The crowning feature of the evening’s exercises consisted in the reading -of Longfellow’s poem, “Bayard Taylor,” by Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes. The -audience, hushed into almost breathless silence, hung upon Dr. Holmes’s -introductory remarks, with a fascination seldom seen, and when that sweet -poem was reached, and its reading began, tears were seen in many eyes, so -pathetic and solemn was the impression. - -The grand chorus of the Boston Mendelssohn Choral Union, under the -direction of Prof. Stephen A. Emery, of the New England Conservatory -of Music, sang in a most artistic and impressive manner some of those -charming old German chorals which Mr. Taylor loved so much, and pleased -the audience much with its rendition of “Oh, for the wings of a Dove,” -with Mr. Wilkie and Miss Fisher as soloists. - -Nothing can show the regard in which Mr. Taylor was held, better than -the contributions to that informal gathering, and we cannot do less than -preserve some of them for the benefit of posterity, especially as it was -that gathering which suggested this book. - -Dr. Holmes’s address was nearly as follows:— - - “I can hardly ask your attention to the lines which Mr. - Longfellow has written, and done me the honor of asking me to - read, without a few words of introduction. The poem should - have flowed from his own lips in those winning accents too - rarely heard in any assembly, and never forgotten by those who - have listened to him. But its tenderness and sweetness are - such that no imperfection of utterance can quite spoil its - harmonies. There are tones in the contralto of our beloved - poet’s melodious song that were born with it, and must die with - it when its music is silenced. - - “A tribute from such a singer would honor the obsequies of - the proudest sovereign, would add freshness to the laurels - of the mightiest conqueror. But he who this evening has this - tribute laid upon his hearse, wore no crown save that which the - sisterhood of the Muses wove for him. His victories were all - peaceful ones, and there has been no heartache after any of - them. His life was a journey through many lands of men, through - many realms of knowledge. He left his humble door in boyhood, - poor, untrained, unknown, unheralded, unattended. He found - himself, once at least, as I well remember his telling me, - hungry and well-nigh penniless in the streets of an European - city, feasting his eyes at a baker’s window and tightening his - girdle in place of a repast. Once more he left his native land, - now in the strength of manhood, known and honored throughout - the world of letters, the sovereignty of the nation investing - him with its mantle of dignity, the laws of civilization - surrounding him with the halo of their inviolable sanctity,—the - boy who went forth to view the world afoot, now on equal - footing with, the potentates and princes who, by right of birth - or by the might of intellect, swayed the destinies of great - empires. - - “He returns to us no more as we remember him, but his career, - his example, the truly American story of a grand, cheerful, - active, self-developing, self-sustaining life, remains as an - enduring inheritance for all coming generations.” - -Mr. Longfellow’s poem, as read by Dr. Holmes, was as follows:— - - “BAYARD TAYLOR. - - “Dead he lay among his books! - The peace of God was in his looks. - - As the statues[2] in the gloom, - Watch o’er Maximilian’s tomb, - - So those volumes from their shelves - Watched him, silent as themselves. - - Ah! his hand will never more - Turn their storied pages o’er; - - Never more his lips repeat - Songs of theirs, however sweet. - - Let the lifeless body rest! - He is gone who was its guest. - - Gone as travellers haste to leave - An inn, nor tarry until eve. - - Traveller! in what realms afar, - In what planet, in what star, - - In what vast aerial space, - Shines the light upon thy face? - - In what gardens of delight - Rest thy weary feet to-night? - - Poet! thou whose latest verse - Was a garland on thy hearse, - - Thou hast sung with organ tone - In Deukalion’s life thine own. - - On the ruins of the Past - Blooms the perfect flower, at last. - - Friend! but yesterday the bells - Rang for thee their loud farewells; - - And to-day they toll for thee, - Lying dead beyond the sea; - - Lying dead among thy books; - The peace of God in all thy looks.” - - —HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. - -We also insert a part of Dr. Wm. M. Cornell’s address:— - - ‘MR. PRESIDENT:—As you have introduced me as ‘The Historian of - Pennsylvania,’ or, ‘Penn’s Woods,’ as you know the term means, - you will allow me to say something of that good old noble - Commonwealth which gave birth to Bayard Taylor, whose recent - and sudden demise has called us together. As he was a worthy - son of that Quaker land, something about it may be expected - of their historian. I know the Quakers have never had much - love for Boston, and I do not think they are to blame for it - either; for if you had treated me as they were treated in this - vicinity, with all the grace given me I don’t think my love for - you would superabound. But we will not revive, on this solemn - occasion, the bigotry and illiberality of the past, especially - as this vast audience, assembled in this old Pilgrim city to - honor the memory of a gifted son of Quakerdom, looks very much - like ‘bringing forth fruits meet for repentance’ of those deeds - of yore. - - “Grand old Pennsylvania! the keystone of the nation; for you - all know the old proverb, ‘As goes Pennsylvania, so goes - the Union,—I honor thy name! Thy sons are patriots! The - Indian sachem said to the first ‘pale faces’ who came here - (understand, I speak as a Pennsylvanian, in accordance with my - introduction), ‘This is our ground. We came up right out of - this ground, and it is _our_ ground. You came up out of ground - away beyond the big waters, and that’s your ground.’ - - “Bayard Taylor, the poet, the traveller, the biographer, the - botanist, the patriot, the plenipotentiary, whom we so justly - mourn, came up out of this land. He was a true son of our - soil, which has always produced patriots. Think you President - Hayes did not know this when he appointed him Minister to that - grand old nation, Germany,—the land of Emperor William, and - Minister Bismarck,—the most learned in the world? The President - did honor to himself by this appointment, and Bayard Taylor did - honor to our nation, and is mourned by the whole world.” - -Omitting the address of the letters for sake of brevity, we insert -several:— - - “DEAR SIR:—Will you have the kindness to express to the - committee of arrangements my deep regret at not being able - to attend the meeting at Tremont Temple in honor of Bayard - Taylor’s memory. I sail from New York for Europe on the 8th - instant. I also regret that the pressure of private matters - will not allow me to prepare a tribute to my old friend. You - will understand how nearly his death touches me, when I say - that it breaks an unclouded intimacy of twenty-four years. If - it should be in order, perhaps some one will read the poem - which I printed in the New York ‘Tribune’ on Christmas morning. - I enclose a copy. - - “Yours, very respectfully, - - “THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH.” - -To which was attached the following poem:— - - “In other years—lost youth’s enchanted years - Seen now and evermore, through blinding tears - And empty longing for what may not be— - The Desert gave him back to us; the Sea - Yielded him up; the icy Northland strand - Lured him not long, nor that soft German air - He loved could keep him. Ever his own land - Fettered his heart and brought him back again. - What sounds are those of farewell and despair - Blown by the winds across the wintry main? - What unknown way is this that he has gone, - Our Bayard, in such silence, and alone? - What new, strange guest has tempted him once more - To leave us? Vainly standing by the shore - We strain our eyes. But patience ... when the soft - Spring gales are blowing over Cedarcroft, - Whitening the hawthorn; when violets bloom - Among the Brandywine, and overhead - The sky is blue as Italy’s—he will come; - Ay, he will come. I cannot make him dead.” - - “DEAR FRIEND:—I am not able to attend the memorial meeting in - Tremont Temple on the 10th instant, but my heart responds to - any testimonial appreciative of the intellectual achievements - and the noble and manly life of Bayard Taylor. More than - thirty years have intervened between my first meeting him in - the fresh bloom of his youth and hope and honorable ambition, - and my last parting with him under the elms of Boston Common - after our visit to Richard H. Dana, on the occasion of the - 90th anniversary of that honored father of American poetry, - still living to lament the death of his younger disciple - and friend. How much he has accomplished in these years! - The most industrious of men, slowly, patiently, under many - disadvantages, he built up his splendid reputation. Traveller, - editor, novelist, translator, diplomatist, and through all - and above all poet, what he was he owed wholly to himself. His - native honesty was satisfied with no half tasks. He finished as - he went, and always said and did his best. - - “It is perhaps too early to assign him his place in American - literature. His picturesque books of travel, his Oriental - lyrics, his Pennsylvanian idyls, his Centennial ode, the - pastoral beauty and Christian sweetness of ‘Lars,’ and the high - arguments and rhythmic marvel of ‘Deukalion,’ are sureties - of the permanence of his reputation. But at this moment my - thoughts dwell rather upon the man than author. The calamity of - his death, felt in both hemispheres, is to me and to all who - intimately knew and loved him, a heavy personal loss. Under the - shadow of this bereavement, in the inner circle of mourning, we - sorrow most of all that we shall see his face no more, and long - for ‘the touch of a vanished hand and the sound of a voice that - is still.’ - - “Thy friend, - - “JOHN G. WHITTIER.” - - “DEAR SIR:—I very much regret that I shall not be able to - accept the invitation of the Young Men’s Congress for Friday - evening of next week. At the same time I wish in heartiest - sympathy to unite with them in honoring the memory of Bayard - Taylor, whom I not only valued as a man of the highest - intellectual qualities, but in whose loss I have to lament - a dear friend. I beg you to convey to the committee of - arrangements my deep sense of honor done me. - - “Very truly yours, - - “W. D. HOWELLS.” - - “MY DEAR SIR:—An illness which confines me to the house will - prevent my being present at the meeting of the 19th instant. - I regret the circumstance very deeply, as it pains me to be - absent on any occasion in which the memory of Bayard Taylor is - to be honored. - - “Very sincerely yours, - - “E. P. WHIPPLE.” - - “GENTLEMEN OF THE COMMITTEE OF THE TAYLOR MEMORIAL:—An - imperative duty calls me to a distant county of the State on - the evening set apart for the meeting at Tremont Temple. But - even if I were not obliged to be absent from our city on that - night, I doubt if I should have the courage to be present and - trust my voice with any words fitting to such an occasion. The - departure of my dear Bayard Taylor is so recent, his loss so - unexpected, that my lips could only falter out a few broken - expressions of individual sorrow, and I should be wholly - incapable of any adequate public tribute to his memory. So many - years of exceptional and near relationship with him—a brotherly - intercourse, unclouded from early manhood onward through his - life—would incapacitate me from taking part before an audience - assembled to honor his genius and his virtues, and I should - probably be able only to stammer through tears an apology - for my inability to speak his praises. These tender words by - Halleck better convey my meaning:— - - ‘While memory bids me weep thee, - Nor thoughts nor words are free, - The grief is fixed too deeply - That mourns a man like thee.’ - - “JAMES T. FIELDS.” - - “DEAR SIR:—I am very sorry that my engagements compel me to - decline your invitation to attend the meeting in memory of - Bayard Taylor. But no one will say any word of praise of his - manly and generous character, or of gratitude for his noble - example of faithful industry, to which my heart will not - respond. I knew him well for nearly thirty years, and when I - said good-by to him last May, as he departed, amid universal - applause and satisfaction, upon a mission to Germany, he was - as frank and simple and earnest as the youth whom I remember - long ago. He died in the fulness of his activity and hope; - but the death of a man so true and upright leaves us a sorrow - wholly unmixed with the wish that his life might have been - different, or with regret that it was only a promise. Like the - knight-at-arms, whose name he bore, he was a gentle knight of - letters, without fear and without reproach, and by those of - us who personally knew him well he will be long and tenderly - remembered. - - “Truly yours, - - “GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS.” - - “DEAR SIR:—Nothing but an imperative engagement elsewhere could - keep me from uniting with those friends of my friend—Bayard - Taylor—who propose next Friday, in Boston, to commemorate his - life and virtues. From our professional association, I could - not but know him intimately, and he was one of the few men of - distinction with whom every added year of intimacy continued - to brighten, not merely your affection, but also your respect. - The essential characteristic alike of his life, and his work, - was its inherent honesty. He described what he saw; he wrote - what he thought; he meant friendship if he gave you his hand. - I never knew him to shrink from expressing an opinion, merely - because it was unpopular; and, I am sure, he never sought a man - merely because the man was powerful. He had an honest pride - in what he had done,—a pride that made him eager to share his - good fame and fortune with his earliest and humblest friends. - He had the genius of hard work. He did many things; he came to - do most of them extremely well, and not a few of them easily; - but he never undertook any task, however familiar, or however - humble, without doing his best. Those who did not know him, - have sometimes described him as more German than American; but - if these be German qualities, we may well be eager to see them - naturalized. - - “Quick to the praise of his old Quaker friends, nothing touched - him more than the praise of Boston; and to those that prize his - memory, nothing now can be more grateful than the sympathetic - appreciation of your meeting. - - “I am, very respectfully, - - “WHITELAW REID.” - - “MY DEAR CONWELL:—I acknowledge the courtesy of your invitation - to do myself the honor to take part in honoring my deceased - friend,—the late Minister at Berlin. - - “I am grieved beyond expression that the necessities of public - duty require my leaving so early for Washington, that, in - making my arrangements, it is impossible for me to be in town - overnight. - - “Independent of the public relations of duty, it is well to - pause to do honor to one who has so faithfully and well served - his country, and his kind. I have the deepest sensibilities - of remembrance of Bayard Taylor’s personal kindness to me on - many occasions, and especially as his guest, to incite me to be - present. - - “I am glad that Massachusetts, in the meeting you assemble, - will show her appreciation of his character and services, and - regret, with more than ordinary emotion, that I am prevented - from taking part in it. - - “Please represent me as wishing to say and do all that I might - in that behalf, and believe me, - - “Yours truly, - - “BENJ. F. BUTLER.” - -Mr. Taylor had been a great favorite at the Century Club, in New York, -and a frequent visitor at the Lotus Club of the same city. He was usually -accompanied by some one or two of his intimate friends, and at the time -Mr. Taylor’s death was announced, several of them who had been known to -be his close companions were requested to give to the “Tribune” letters -of “reminiscences” for publication. Among these thus hastily collected -tributes were several of those which follow. Mr. Richard H. Stoddard -said:— - - “I have known Mr. Bayard Taylor so long that I hardly know - when our acquaintance began. It was at least thirty years - ago, during his first year’s residence in New York, after his - tour in Europe and the publication of his ‘Views Afoot.’ The - occasion of our acquaintance was a magazine which had lately - been started here, and which was edited by Mrs. Caroline M. - Kirkland, one of my earliest and best literary friends. I had - contributed to this periodical, which was entitled ‘The Union - Magazine,’ and on her departure for Europe she recommended me - to call upon her young friend, Mr. Taylor, who was to take care - of it for her during her absence. She was sure I would like - him, for we were _Arcades ambo_. I called upon him, and liked - him, as she had foreseen I would. I found him in the editorial - room of the ‘Tribune,’ a dingy, dusty, comfortless den on the - same floor with the composing-room, if I remember rightly. He - was seated on the hither side of an old ink-stained desk, which - was surrounded by a railing, over which newspapers were flung, - and was writing rapidly. He looked up when I addressed him and - stated my errand—a bright, joyous, handsome man of twenty-five, - with a world of animation in his sparkling dark eyes. I have no - recollection of what passed between us, except that the poem - which was in his hands was accepted, and that we had taken a - fancy to each other. I went away feeling happy, for I felt that - I had made a friend, and one who could sympathize with me. - There were two bonds between us—love of verse, and equality - of years. He was the first man of letters who had treated me - like one of the craft, and I was grateful to him, as I should - have been, for I was weary of the intellectual snobbery I had - undergone from others. - - “It was not long before we were what Burns calls ‘bosom - cronies.’ We used, I remember, to spend our Saturday evenings - together, generally at his rooms, which were within a stone’s - throw of the ‘Tribune’ office, at a boardinghouse in Warren - Street, not far from Broadway. He lived in a sky parlor, which - is present before me now, as if I had seen it but an hour ago. - I remember just where his table stood, and the little desk upon - which he afterward wrote so many books, and upon which he was - then writing so many charming poems. I took up the collected - edition of his poetical works this afternoon in my library, and - turning over the leaves sorrowfully, felt the weight of thirty - years roll from me—not lightly, as it would have done a few - weeks ago, but with a pain for which I have no words. They were - all there, the poems which I remembered so well—‘Ariel in the - Cloven Pine’ (which I read in MS. before it saw the light of - print), ‘The Metempsychosis of the Pine,’ ‘Mon-da-min’ (which - was written years before the ‘Song of Hiawatha’), ‘Kubleh,’and, - saddest of all, the solemn dirge beginning ‘Moan, ye wild - winds! around the pane.” As I read, I saw the eager face, the - glowing eyes, the kindly smile of the enthusiastic young poet, - whom the world preferred to consider as a traveller merely, and - who knew so many things of which I was profoundly ignorant. - My nature is not a reverent one, I fear, but I looked up to - Bayard Taylor, and admired his beautiful genius. We read and - criticised each other’s verse a good deal too lightly and - generously, I have since thought, and talked of the poets whom - we were studying. It was his fancy that there was something in - his genius which was allied to that of Shelley, and I hoped - that I might claim some relationship with Keats, enough at - least to make me a ‘poor relation.’ We talked long and late; - we smoked mild cigars; and, once in a while when our exchequers - were replenished, we indulged in the sweet luxury of stewed - oysters, over which we had more talk, of present plans and - future renown. I was, I believe, Bayard Taylor’s most intimate - friend at this time, and the one with whom he most consorted, - though he had, of course, a large literary acquaintance among - the young writers of the period, whose name was Legion, and - whose works are now forgotten. I have spent many happy nights - with my dead friend, but none which were so happy as those. I - looked forward to them as young men look forward to holidays - which they have planned. I look back upon them as old men look - back to their past delights, with pity and regret. - - “The world, as I have said, considered Bayard Taylor as a - traveller, and it was his pleasure, as well as his profit, - during the first years of our friendship, to travel largely in - California, in Egypt, in Japan, and elsewhere in the Old World. - I read his letters of travel as they appeared in the ‘Tribune,’ - and I read these letters again which he collected thus in books - after his return. I saw that they were good of their kind; - I felt that his prose was admirable for its simplicity and - correctness; but, with a waywardness which I could not help, - I slighted them for his poetry. I thought then, and think - still, that his ‘California Ballads’ and ‘Poems of Travel’ are - masterly examples of spirited, picturesque writing, and I am - sure that his ‘Poems of the Orient’ are superior to anything - of the kind in the English language. They have a local color - which is absent from ‘Lalla Rookh.’ The ‘Bedouin Song,’ for - instance, is instinct with the fiery, passionate life of the - East, and is a worthy companion-piece to Shelley’s ‘Lines to an - Indian Air.’ The ‘Poems of the Orient’ were dedicated to me, I - shall always be happy to remember, in a poetical ‘Epistle from - Tmolus.’ - - “Bayard Taylor had a sunny nature, which delighted in simple - pleasures, and he had the happy art of putting trouble away - from him. One trouble, however, he could not put away, as those - who are familiar with his life and poems are aware. I have - spoken of one of his early poems (‘Moan, ye wild winds! around - the pane’), which embodied the first great sorrow of his young - manhood. It was written after the death of his first wife, - whose memory it embalms, and whose tender presence haunted him - later in ‘The Mystery’ and ‘The Phantom.’ Among the literary - acquaintances of Bayard Taylor and myself, I must not forget to - mention the late Fitz James O’Brien, whose promise was greater - than his performance, and who, clever as he was in prose, was - at his best a graceful poet. Taylor and O’Brien were in the - habit of meeting in my rooms at night, about twenty-five years - ago, and of fighting triangular poetical duels. We used to sit - at the same table, with the names of poetical subjects on slips - of paper, and drawing out one at random, see which of us would - soonest write a poem upon it. This practice of ours, which - is well enough as practice merely, was the origin of Bayard - Taylor’s ‘Echo Club.’ - - “Always a charming companion, Bayard Taylor was delightful - in his own home at Cedarcroft. I remember visiting him there - when he gave his ‘house-warming,’ and the merriment we had over - a play which we wrote together, speech by speech, and scene - by scene, and which we performed to the great delectation of - his friends and neighbors. Many of the latter had never seen - a theatrical performance before, and, I dare say, have never - seen one since. Our play was a great success, and ought to have - been, for there was not a word in it which had not done duty a - thousand times before! We called it ‘Love in a Hotel.’ ‘Miller - Redivivus’ would have answered just as well, if not better. - - “The recollections of thirty years cannot be recalled at will, - and seldom while those who shared them with us are overshadowed - by death.” I remember merry days and nights without number, - and I remember sorrows which are better forgotten. One of my - sorrows was deeply felt by Bayard Taylor, who, fresh from the - reading of the second part of ‘Faust,’ saw in my loss a vision - of Goethe’s ‘Euphorion.’ - - “The last time, but one, when I saw my friend alone was three - or four nights before his departure for Berlin. It was one - night at my own house, at a little gathering to which I had - invited our common friends, comrades of ten and twenty years’ - standing, poets, artists, and good fellows of both sexes. It - was notable on one account, for our great poet Bryant came - thither to do honor to his younger brother, Bayard Taylor. I - cannot say that it was a happy night, for it was to be followed - by an absence which was close at hand,—an absence which was to - endure forever. Before two months had passed, the Nestor of - our poets was gathered to his fathers in the fullness of his - renown. His sons bewailed their father; my good friend Stedman, - in a noble poem in the ‘Atlantic Monthly,’ and Bayard Taylor in - a solemn ‘Epicedium’ in ‘Scribner’s Monthly.’ And now Bayard - Taylor is gone! - - “‘Insatiate archer, could not one suffice?’ The world of - American letters has lost a poet in Bayard Taylor; but we who - knew and loved him—have lost a friend. - - “R. H. STODDARD.” - - “NEW YORK, DEC. 19, 1878.” - -Mr. Edmund C. Stedman, the poet, who enjoyed a very close intimacy with -Mr. Taylor, spoke of him to the editor as follows:— - - “The causes which led to his death at this time, date back - several years. When he returned from Europe then, he found - his real estate and personal property largely depreciated and - encumbered, and though near the age of fifty, he again found - himself forced to tolerable hard work to support his family - and position. It was this hard work, coupled with his resolute - purpose, however other work might engross him, to keep up - his more serious contributions to permanent literature, that - ultimately led to his death. He took great pride in his home - and broad acres, at Kennett Square, Penn., his native place. He - designed his own house, ‘Cedarcroft,’ and spent a great deal of - money in its erection, and that, with the two hundred acres of - land, which he owned and had greatly improved, was a source of - expense rather than income to him. He had a handsome competence - when he went abroad, all of which he earned as a journalist, - author, and lecturer, never having earned any money except by - his pen. He decided to maintain his property in Kennett Square, - and he set to work immediately to pay off the debt. During the - last four years, he has accomplished this, his income amounting - to from $12,000 to $18,000 a year; but he obtained it by very - hard work. In fact, he had worked harder and accomplished more - in that time than perhaps any other living literary man. He - lectured each winter, in all sorts of weather, and in different - parts of the country. He contributed largely to magazines and - reviews, and never more brilliantly, besides doing a great - amount of regular work for the ‘Tribune.’ He came from a - long-lived family, and his strength was very great, but he - undertook too much. He did the work of two able-bodied men - every day, and his health gave way under the great strain - on one or two occasions. He was compelled to go to the White - Sulphur Springs, and other places for recuperation; but he - forced himself to work again before he had fully recovered. - During this time he wrote his last and most important poem, - ‘Prince Deukalion.’ It was a source of great trial to himself, - and of regret to his friends, that he was unable to go on with - his ‘Life of Goethe,’ for which he had secured material during - his last sojourn in Germany. The great trouble with him was his - inability, owing to his excessive labors, to take sufficient - social recreation. His enemies, very few in number, have - falsely attempted to make a point against him on this account, - charging him with excessive beer-drinking. It was his want of - recreation and rest that killed him. He was forced to take some - stimulus to support himself under exhausting labor; but he was - not an excessive beer-drinker as he has been charged, though - what he did take may have helped to develop his disease. - - “No man in the country could do so much journalistic work, and - do it so well in a given time, as could Mr. Taylor. He was - remarkable in brilliant off-hand feats of literary criticism. - As an illustration, I might mention that about a year ago two - large octavo volumes, containing poems by Victor Hugo, in the - French, arrived by steamer, and were placed in Mr. Taylor’s - hands on Thursday evening. For some reason it was desirable - that the criticism should appear in the ‘Tribune’ of the - following Saturday, and, of course, the copy had to be in the - printers’ hands early on Friday night. Mr. Taylor’s health was - bad at the time, and he also had in the meantime to deliver - a lecture in Brooklyn, and another in New York. He finished - his review in time on Friday night, and it appeared in the - ‘Tribune’ the following morning, covering more than two-thirds - of a page. It was equal to any of his literary criticisms, - and surpassed any analysis of Hugo’s genius that I have ever - seen. One remarkable feature of the review was over a column of - translation into English poetry from the original, including - several lyrics and idyls so beautifully done that they seemed - like original poems in the English. - - “Mr. Taylor was a man of wide and thorough learning, and was - a much more exact scholar than would be supposed, considering - that he was never at college, and spent a great deal of time in - travel and observation. He had a smattering of all languages. - He was familiar with Latin and Greek, spoke French well, and - German like a native; he also conversed in Russian, Norse, - Arabic, Italian, and knew something of modern Greek. His - knowledge of Greek was increased by his classical feeling, - which, as with Keats, amounted almost to a passion. He was - a good botanist, and somewhat of a geologist, and was an - established authority on geographical questions. He was greatly - interested in all scientific studies. - - “As a man he was a peer among his fellows. He was the most - simple, generous-hearted man of letters I ever knew. He was - the first literary man I met in New York, my acquaintance - dating from the time he came and took me by the hand in 1860, - after the publication of one of my articles. He was never so - happy as when surrounded by his friends in his own house. He - had unbounded hospitality, and made his house the centre of - literary life in the city. New York will greatly miss him, and - just such a leader was needed to give encouragement to our - literary life. He was accused sometimes of egotism; but he was - not egotistical in the proper sense of the term. He was frank - and out-spoken, and showed his feelings plainly, which gave - rise to that charge. He always denounced shams and humbugs; - but I do not believe he ever did a mean act, and he never grew - angry except on account of the meanness of others. - - “His private letters, of which I had a great number, were far - more delightful than his published ones. He was very careful - in his published letters not to say anything that might wound - the feelings of distinguished persons from whom he received - hospitality abroad. His private letters are full of the most - interesting anecdotes and conversations with leading authors - and magnates of other lands, and are charming in their - clearness and _esprit_. His faults, and we all have them, were - rather of a lovable nature. He cared most for his reputation - as a poet, and his books on travel and novels were a secondary - matter with him. - - “Mr. Taylor did not seek the appointment as Minister to - Germany, but other positions were tendered him which he - declined, and this was offered rather in obedience to popular - demand. Mr. Taylor, Mr. Boker, and Mr. Stoddard started - together in literary life thirty years ago, and they have - always worked together, and have been firm friends. It was a - rather curious coincidence that Mr. Boker should follow as - Minister Mr. Taylor as Charge d’Affairs in Russia, and that - just as Boker returned from Russia, Mr. Taylor should be sent - as Minister to Germany.” - -Mr. Samuel Coleman, the artist, said of him:— - - “I first knew Mr. Taylor nearly twenty years ago, and my - acquaintance with him has always been of the pleasantest kind. - I shall never forget a visit that I made to his home at Kennett - Square, in 1861, in company with a brother artist. Much of - our conversation was on art subjects, and in the evening Mr. - Taylor read to me with great gusto some poems written by an - extravagant Southern writer. He read the poems in a manner that - showed his keen appreciation of ’ the comic element, and kept - us laughing at the passages which the author had intended to - be most dramatic. Mr. Taylor was a most genial host, and knew - how to keep a room full of persons in the happiest mood. His - speeches and his manner at such times cannot be described. - - “In art matters Mr. Taylor was thoroughly at home. He could - not only write a good criticism of a painting, but he was - also proficient in the use of brush and pencil. He began - sketching when he was a boy, and he executed many paintings in - water-colors. He was made one of the members of the Water-Color - Society soon after the society was started. Several of his - works were shown at the annual exhibitions of the society, and - were much admired. I met Mr. Taylor by appointment at Florence, - Italy, in the spring of 1873, and visited with him for a short - time in that city. We had talked of making a journey to Egypt - together. I was to do some sketching there, while he was to - glean materials for a book. Ill-health prevented me from making - the proposed journey at that time, and I left him in Florence. - He there occupied the rooms where Mrs. Browning had lived. - - “In later years I had not seen so much of Mr. Taylor as I - had wished. I remember the brilliant part he played in the - Twelfth Night entertainment of the Century Club last winter, - when he put on a high conical cap and marched about the room - beating a large drum. As on many other occasions, his wit - was displayed in comical speeches and retorts that kept his - listeners laughing by the hour. I saw him for the last time - at the house of a friend, when he spoke earnestly of the many - happy associations he was about to leave. His heart was in this - country, however much his interests might lie abroad.” - -Mr. Charles T. Congdon, an associate on the “Tribune,” wrote:— - - “Everybody in the office knew how high Mr. Taylor stood in - the estimation of Mr. Greeley. A man who had worked his way - up; who, beginning as a printer, had come to be an admired - writer, who was ambitious of excellence, and not afraid of - toil to attain it, Mr. Greeley was naturally fond of. So, when - the monument of the great journalist was to be dedicated, Mr. - Taylor was properly selected to make one of the principal - addresses on the occasion. How good that address was, how well - conceived and arranged and delivered, need not be said to - those who had the satisfaction of hearing it. It was indeed an - impressive occasion when, standing above the tomb of his old - master, surrounded by those to whom that noble man was dear, - with the liberal sky stretched over the earnest speaker, and - the great, busy city in the distance, Mr. Taylor, in manly - words and sonorous voice, paid those glowing tributes to which - all our hearts responded. Somebody now must speak for him; - but his memory will lack no eulogist. There is enough to say - of such a vigorous and wise career; something, too, there is, - alas! which must be left unsaid. Of any of us who remain, had - our fate been his, he would have spoken kind and generous - words; nor should he go to his grave ‘without the meed of one - melodious tear.’ - - “After many years had gone by, Mr. Taylor came back to do - regular daily work in the ‘Tribune’ office, and this he - continued until his departure for Germany. I was near him, - and, if there were any need of it, I could speak again of - his unflagging industry, and of his excellent qualities as a - journalist. He had the faculty which every newspaper writer - should possess, of writing fairly well upon any topic confided - to him. Of course his special skill was displayed in literary - labor; but when he saw fit to write upon what may be called - secular themes, he did so in an able and judicious way. He was - thoroughly kind and obliging, and always willing to lend his - help, or to give his advice when it was asked for, as it often - was. Somehow, I cannot get away from the impression of his - untiring assiduity. He seemed to have always a great variety of - work in hand—work at home and in the office—as if he had caught - something of the power of toiling from that great German upon - whose biography he was then engaged. If he was somewhat proud - of his accomplishments—thinking over the matter more, I see - that he had a right to be—he had done much, and he had done it - well, and he was entitled to the indulgence of some complacency. - - “When the rumor came that Mr. Taylor was to be taken away from - us for a time and advanced to high diplomatic honors, I think - that we were all as proud of it as he was, and felt it to be a - recognition, not perhaps made too soon, of the importance of - journalism. It was something to send forth from among ourselves - an Ambassador to the German Empire, and we were personally - grateful to the powers at Washington, though we thought them - also the obliged party. In our own way, and in our own place, - and with a small token of our good-will, we bade Mr. Taylor - farewell on that April afternoon, and spoke jestingly of the - time when, his court-dress put off, we should welcome him back - to his old desk. There came a statelier leave-taking afterward, - when so many of the best and most distinguished of our citizens - met to take leave of him in a more formal manner; but I think - that he prized our little demonstration quite as highly, and - thought of it afterward on the sea and in foreign lands quite - as often. - - “A man must be judged by what is best in him, by what he has - really done, and not by the accidents of his character. Few - Americans have written more, and more variously, than Mr. - Taylor, and few have written better. Those of us who know how - he owed nothing to chance, how methodical and painstaking he - was, how he conquered difficulties which would have dismayed a - weaker man, are in a position to judge of his merits, and to - accord to him words of praise, little as he needs them, which - have a specific meaning.” - -James T. Fields, in the tributes published in the “Tribune,” gave this -sketch of the acquaintance and friendship existing between Mr. Taylor and -himself:— - - “The death of a man like Bayard Taylor, awakens universal - sorrow. Throughout the land of his birth a tearful grief has - overspread the nation, and he is mourned everywhere, far and - wide, in America. There never lived a public man of greater - _bonhomie_, or of a franker disposition. He had many honors - to bear, but he bore them meekly, and like an unspoiled - child. Cynicism and vulgar egotism were strangers to his - truthful nature; there were no jarring chords either in his - understanding or his heart, and so he became his country’s - favorite, as well as her pride. - - “Thirty-two years ago, on a bright spring morning, a young man - of twenty-three held out his hand to me, and introduced himself - as Bayard Taylor. We had corresponded at intervals since his - first little volume was published in 1844, but we had never - met until then. He had come to Boston, rather unexpectedly, - he said, to see Longfellow, and Holmes, and Whipple, and some - others, who had expressed an interest in his ‘Views Afoot,’ - then recently printed in book-form. No one could possibly look - upon the manly young fellow at that time without loving him. - He was tall and slight, with the bloom of youth mantling a - face full of eager, joyous expectation. Health of that buoyant - nature which betokens delight in existence, was visible in - every feature of the youthful traveller. - - ‘The fresh air lodged within his cheek - As light within a cloud.’ - - “We all flocked about him like a swarm of brothers, heartily - welcoming him to Boston. When we told him how charmed we - all were with his travels, he blushed like a girl, and - tears filled his sensitive eyes. ‘It is one of the most - absorbingly interesting books I ever read!’ cried one of our - number, heightening the remark with an expletive savoring - more of strength that of early piety. Taylor looked up, full - of happiness at the opinion so earnestly expressed, and - asked, with that simple naivete which always belonged to his - character, ‘Do you really think so? Well, I am _so_ glad.’ - - “Then we began to lay out plans for a week’s holiday with him; - to-morrow we would go to such a place down the harbor; next day - to another point of interest; after that we would all assemble - at a supper party in his honor, at Parker’s (at that time a - subterranean eating-house in Court Street), and following that - festivity we would take him to see old Booth in _Richard_. We - went on filling up the seven days with our designs upon him, - when he protested, with an explosive shout of laughter, that he - must be back again in New York the next day. Then we showered - warm exhortations upon him to postpone his exit, but he assured - us that go back he must, for he had promised to do so. Well, - then, if that were the case, and we saw by his countenance that - he meant what he said, we must adjourn at once to ‘Webster’s,’ - a famous beefsteak house in those ancient days, and, as Whipple - facetiously remarked, quoting the old ballad: - - ‘Put a steak in his inside - Where the four cross-roads did meet.’ - - “So thitherward we rollicked along into Washington Street, and - performed that pleasant duty, Taylor all the while brimming - over with radiant spirits, his young heart already illumined - with the delight of recognition and praise. - - “In the afternoon we handed him over to Longfellow, whom he was - anxious to meet, and who gave him such a welcome as he never - forgot. In one of the last conversations I had with Taylor, a - few weeks before he sailed for the Embassy, he said, with deep - feeling: ‘From the first, Longfellow has been to me the truest - and most affectionate friend that ever man had. He always gives - me courage to go on, and never fails to lift me forward into - hopeful regions whenever I meet him. He is the dearest soul in - the world, and my love for him is unbounded.’ - - “Whittier, Holmes, Emerson, Hawthorne, among many others in New - England, always rejoiced to see Taylor’s welcome face returning - to us. Whenever he came to lecture in Boston or Cambridge, it - was the signal for happy dinners and merry meetings at each - other’s houses. His fiftieth birthday occurring during one of - these visits to Boston, was celebrated by an informal dinner - in my own house, at which Longfellow proposed his health, and - Holmes garlanded him with pleasurable words of friendship and - praise. - - “When Taylor came here to give his lectures on German - literature, at the ‘Lowell Institute,’ the crowd was so great - that hundreds were unable to gain admittance. Those masterly - delineations of the genius and character of Goethe, Schiller, - Klopstock, Lessing, and other famous men of Germany, will - long be remembered here, and we were all looking forward - to no remote period when we should again hear his voice on - kindred topics in the same place. No discourses have ever - been listened to in Boston with more enthusiasm, or have been - oftener referred to with delight, since they were delivered. - Bayard Taylor was not only honored and respected here for his - genius,—he was everywhere beloved. His death saddens our city, - and is the absorbing topic in every circle.” - -Mr. Taylor’s body arrived in New York on the thirteenth day of March, -about three months after his death, and was received with imposing -ceremonies of respect. Committees from distinguished citizens and -prominent associations received the remains at the steamship wharf and -a large procession followed the elegant funeral-car to the City Hall. -The coffin was placed in the Governor’s room in the City Hall, where an -address was delivered by the Hon. Algernon S. Sullivan. Delegations were -present from the Grand Army of the Republic; from the Delta Kappa Epsilon -societies; the German singing societies; from the State Legislature; the -National Congress, and hundreds of men and women distinguished more or -less in literary and official life. Salutes were fired from the fort, -dirges were sung by German associations, flags were placed at half-mast, -and the immense crowd of people seeking admittance to City Hall, showed -the esteem in which the distinguished minister was held. - -The body lay in state at the City Hall, with a guard from the Grand Army -of the Republic, until noon of the 14th, when the body was removed, amid -touching and imposing ceremonies, to the railway train which conveyed it -to Kennett Square. - -There have been but few incidents of American life more pathetic and -remarkable than the spontaneous exhibition of love and admiration by -the people of Mr. Taylor’s native town, when his body was taken there -for burial. The silent and uncovered crowds, the tears, the regrets, -the stories of his kindness, the honest acts of deference, the noble -reception of any one who had been his friend, all served to make up a -most unusual tribute to the memory of a great man. In many places the -funeral of Mr. Taylor had not attracted the attention which his friends -have felt was due to his memory. But at his old home, among his own kin, -in the circle of those who knew him best, old and young came forth to do -him honor. Aged men and women, whose white hairs floated in the chilly -breezes, and young children, whose hats and bonnets were held so modestly -behind them, bowed their heads as the sombre procession passed them. - -The services at Cedarcroft on the 15th were short and simple, being -conducted by the Rev. W. H. Furness, D. D., after which Dr. Franklin -Taylor made a brief address. - -At the grave in Longwood Cemetery, about a mile and a half from -Cedarcroft, there were gathered thousands of mourning acquaintances, who -listened in solemn silence to the addresses which were there delivered by -Dr. Furness, and by Mr. Edmund C. Stedman, and the reading of the burial -service according to the rites of the Protestant Episcopal Church, by the -Rev. H. N. Powers. The pall-bearers consisted of eight persons: George -H. Boker, of Philadelphia; Richard H. Stoddard, of New York; Edmund C. -Stedman, of New York; Whitelaw Reid, of New York; J. Taylor Gause, of -Wilmington, Delaware; Jacob P. Cox, of Kennett; James M. Phillips, of -Kennett; Marshall Swayne, of Kennett, and Edward Needles of West Chester, -Pa. Governor Hoyt of Pennsylvania, a delegation from the Legislature of -Pennsylvania, representatives of the Delta Kappa Epsilon Society, and -kindred associations were present, with a large number of friends from -distant parts of the country. - -It was an impressive scene. The aged father, the sisters, the brothers, -the officials, and the throng of other friends around the open grave! -From that neighborhood he went forth into life, a frail farmer-boy, less -promising than many of his playmates. Now, after twoscore of years, -in which he had made for himself friends in every clime, and a name -in literature, oratory and diplomacy, his body is laid to rest amid -universal grief, and bearing on its coffin-lid the floral tributes from -the Empress, and from the greatest men of Germany, and from the most -gifted men and women of his own land. - -Beside the grave stood his intimate friend and loved companion, Edmund -C. Stedman, who, perhaps, more than any other living man had enjoyed the -deceased poet’s confidence. It was fitting that he should pay the closing -tribute to his friend’s career. Then a choir of neighbors sang a burial -ode, the words and music being written for the occasion, the former -by Mrs. S. L. Oberholtzer, and the latter by John E. Sweney. Slowly -and reverently amid sobs and tears,—a multitude weeping,—they laid him -tenderly in his last resting-place, near the grave of his brave brother, -and beside the remains of his first love. - -The address of Mr. Stedman was nearly as follows:— - - Three months have gone since we heard from a distant land - that the spirit of our comrade had departed. His life was - eager, noble, wide-renowned. It lasted for more than half a - century, yet ceased prematurely, and we say, “He should have - died hereafter!” Here, to-day, at this very spot, the mould - which held that spirit returns to the self-same earth which - nurtured it. Here the mortal journeyings are forever ended. - The seas, the deserts, the mountain-ranges, shall be crossed - no more; the joyous eyes are veiled; the near, warm heart can - throb no longer; the stalwart frame has fallen, and henceforth - lies at rest. For us the record is closed; but is it ended - without a continuance? This is the question, which here, at - this moment, in this place, so strongly comes to each one - of those who were his comrades, whom he loved with all his - generous nature, to whom he was ever stanch and true, for whom - he would at all times have given all he had, from whom only - his dust now can receive the love, the tender utterance, the - ceaseless remembrance which they seek to offer in return. Are - the travels then in truth forever ended? Shall there be, for - our brother, no more insatiable thirst for knowledge, no more - high poetic speech, no more looking toward the stars? For - one, I try to answer from his own lips, since they so often - foretokened it. If ever a longing for eternal life, a resolve - not to be deprived of action, a beautiful and absolute faith - that the Power which governs all had decreed that these should - not surcease—if these ever have given a mortal a hold on - immortality, then our Bayard still is living, though above and - beyond us. For however dimmed may be the vision wherewith some - of us strive in vain, whatever our hopes, to look behind the - veil, for him there was neither doubt nor darkness. He could - not, would not, tolerate the idea of one-sided individuality. - I have never known a man whose trust in this one thing was so - absolutely and always unshaken, or who had a more abiding, - sustaining faith in the perfection of the universal plan and in - the beneficence of its Designer. - - Such was his religion, and I say that it was constant and most - beautiful. Possibly it was something of the Quaker breed within - him that made him so conscious of the Spirit, and so natural - and unfailing a believer in direct inspiration. In this age of - questionings and searchings, how few of those who profess the - most have his perfect faith in that immortality whose promise - animates the creeds! For this alone the most rigid may revere - his religion, and even without this his spotless life of - purity, philanthropy, heroic deeds, has been a model for those - who seek to become the disciples of whom the Teacher said, “By - their fruits ye shall know them.” This is the one statement - which I desire to make. This much, at this final place and - hour, I am moved to affirm. Joyous poet, loyal comrade, patient - and generous brother in toil and song—Farewell! Farewell! - -With two quotations from Bayard Taylor’s writings, one of prose and one -of poetry, the writer will lay down his pen (weary with rapid writing), -and with the feeling that the subject of this volume is too vast to -be adequately or comprehensively treated so soon after his death; and -hoping that a lack of completeness in this book, may not argue a lack of -affection on the part of the writer. These are Bayard Taylor’s words. -How like a benediction they come to us as we close this book. - - “These are the rules which I have always accepted: First, - labor; nothing can be had for nothing; whatever a man achieves, - he must pay for; and no favor of fortune can absolve him from - his duty. Secondly, patience and forbearance, which is simply - dependent on the slow justice of time. Thirdly, and most - important, faith. Unless a man believe in something far higher - than himself; something infinitely purer and grander than he - can ever become—unless he has an instinct of an order beyond - his dreams; of laws beyond his comprehension; of beauty and - goodness and justice, beside which his own ideals are dark, he - will fail in every loftier form of ambition, and ought to fail.” - - “Upon the world’s great battle-field, the brave - Struggle, and win, and fall. They proudly go, - Some to unnoticed graves, and some to stand - With earth’s bright catalogue of great and good. - Who, urged by consciousness of noble aims, - Stands breast to breast with every evil thought, - Subduing until stricken down, shall pass - In warrior glory to _his_ long repose, - And _his_ good deeds rest like a banner-pall— - Telling the faith _he_ fought for to the world— - Upon _his_ memory, for all coming time!” - - - - -FOOTNOTES - - -[1] As Bayard says of Osséo in his poem of Mon-da-Min:— - - “He could guess - The knowledge other minds but slowly plucked - From out the heart of things: to him, as well - As to his Gods, all things were possible.” - -[2] In the Hofkirche, at Innsbruck. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Life, Travels, and Literary Career -of Bayard Taylor, by Russell H. 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Conwell. - </title> - - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - -<style type="text/css"> - -a { - text-decoration: none; -} - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -h1,h2 { - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -hr { - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - clear: both; - width: 65%; - margin-left: 17.5%; - margin-right: 17.5%; -} - -p { - margin-top: 0.5em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: 0.5em; - text-indent: 1em; -} - -table { - margin: 1em auto 1em auto; - max-width: 40em; - border-collapse: collapse; -} - -td { - padding-left: 2.25em; - padding-right: 0.25em; - vertical-align: top; - text-indent: -2em; - text-align: justify; -} - -.tdc { - text-align: center; - padding-top: 1.5em; -} - -.tdpg { - vertical-align: bottom; - text-align: right; - white-space: nowrap; -} - -.blockquote, .chapterhead { - margin: 1.5em 10%; -} - -.blockquote { - font-size: 90%; -} - -.caption { - text-align: center; - margin-bottom: 1em; - font-size: 90%; - text-indent: 0em; -} - -.center { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; -} - -.chapterhead p { - padding-left: 2em; - text-indent: -2em; - font-size: 90%; -} - -.ditto { - margin-left: 1.5em; - margin-right: 1.5em; -} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -.footnotes { - margin-top: 1em; - border: dashed 1px; -} - -.footnote { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; - font-size: 0.9em; -} - -.footnote .label { - position: absolute; - right: 84%; - text-align: right; -} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: super; - font-size: .8em; - text-decoration: none; -} - -.larger { - font-size: 150%; -} - -.noindent { - text-indent: 0em; -} - -.pagenum { - position: absolute; - right: 4%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; -} - -.poetry-container { - text-align: center; - margin: 1em; -} - -.poetry { - display: inline-block; - text-align: left; -} - -.poetry .stanza { - margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; -} - -.poetry .verse { - text-indent: -3em; - padding-left: 3em; -} - -.poetry .indent1 { - text-indent: -2em; -} - -.poetry .indent2 { - text-indent: -1em; -} - -.poetry .indent3 { - text-indent: 0em; -} - -.poetry .indent4 { - text-indent: 1em; -} - -.poetry .indent5 { - text-indent: 2em; -} - -.poetry .indent6 { - text-indent: 3em; -} - -.poetry .indent12 { - text-indent: 9em; -} - -.right { - text-align: right; -} - -.smaller { - font-size: 80%; -} - -.smcap { - font-variant: small-caps; - font-style: normal; -} - -.titlepage { - text-align: center; - margin-top: 3em; - text-indent: 0em; -} - -@media handheld { - -img { - max-width: 100%; - width: auto; - height: auto; -} - -.poetry { - display: block; - margin-left: 1.5em; -} - -.blockquote, .chapterhead { - margin: 1.5em 5%; -} -} - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Life, Travels, and Literary Career of -Bayard Taylor, by Russell H. Conwell - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Life, Travels, and Literary Career of Bayard Taylor - -Author: Russell H. Conwell - -Release Date: October 28, 2019 [EBook #60585] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE, TRAVELS, CAREER OF BAYARD TAYLOR *** - - - - -Produced by WebRover, Peter Vachuska, Chuck Greif and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 475px;" id="illus1"> -<img src="images/illus1.jpg" width="475" height="700" alt="" /> -<p class="caption"><i>Bayard Taylor.</i></p> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> - -<p class="titlepage larger"><span class="smaller">THE</span><br /> -LIFE, TRAVELS, AND LITERARY CAREER<br /> -<span class="smaller">OF</span><br /> -<span class="larger">BAYARD TAYLOR.</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container titlepage"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Crown Love, crown Truth when first her brow appears,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">And crown the hero when his deeds are done:</div> -<div class="verse indent2">The Poet’s leaves are gathered one by one.</div> -<div class="verse">In the slow process of the doubtful years.</div> -<div class="verse">Who seeks too eagerly, he shall not find:</div> -<div class="verse">Who seeking not pursues with single mind</div> -<div class="verse">Art’s lofty aim, to him will she accord,</div> -<div class="verse">At her appointed time, the sure reward.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="titlepage">BY<br /> -RUSSELL H. CONWELL,</p> - -<p class="center smaller">AUTHOR OF “LIFE OF PRESIDENT HAYES,” “WHY AND HOW THE CHINESE EMIGRATE,”<br /> -“HISTORY OF THE GREAT FIRE IN BOSTON,” “HISTORY OF THE GREAT FIRE<br /> -IN SAINT JOHN, N. B.,” “LESSONS OF TRAVEL,” ETC., ETC.</p> - -<p class="titlepage">BOSTON:<br /> -B. B. RUSSELL & CO., No. 57 CORNHILL.<br /> -<span class="smaller">DETROIT: R. D. S. TYLER & CO. PORTLAND: JOHN RUSSELL.<br /> -PHILADELPHIA: QUAKER CITY PUBLISHING HOUSE.<br /> -NEW YORK: CHARLES DREW. CHICAGO: ANDREWS & DORMAN.<br /> -INDIANAPOLIS, IND.: FRED L. HORTON & CO.</span><br /> -1879.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> - -<p class="titlepage smaller">Copyright,<br /> -<span class="smcap">By</span> B. B. RUSSELL & CO.,<br /> -1879</p> - -<p class="titlepage smaller">BOSTON:<br /> -Printed by <span class="smcap">Albert J. Wright</span>, 79 Milk Street.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p> - -<h2>TO THE MISTRESS OF MY HOME.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“My tears were on the pages as I read</div> -<div class="verse indent1">The touching close: I made the story mine,</div> -<div class="verse">Within whose heart, long plighted to the dead,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Love built his living shrine.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“For she is lost; but she, the later bride,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Who came my ruined fortune to restore;</div> -<div class="verse">Back from the desert wanders at my side,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">And leads me home once more.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse right">—<cite>Poet’s Journal.</cite></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> - -<h2>PREFACE.</h2> - -<p>It is a solemn yet pleasant duty to compile in comprehensive -order the records of a life so eventful and influential -as that of Bayard Taylor. It is solemn, because the sad -tears which began to flow at his death, are coursing freely -still. Pleasant, because there is no task more satisfactory -than that of recounting the deeds of a virtuous, industrious, -heroic life. No test-book of morals, or of general history, -is so effective in educating the young as the annals of well-spent -years, gathered for that purpose. There is more or -less influence in fables and mythological tales; and there is -considerable power in a well written, skilfully plotted work -of fiction; but the direct and unavoidable appeal of a noble -life, which has closed with honor and deserved renown, is -far more potent and permanent in the culture and reformation -of the world, than all other forms of intellectual and -moral quickening. No apology is needed for writing such a -biography. It would be inexcusable to leave the world in -need of it. When the time comes for a book more complete -in its arrangement and details, and more select in its diction, -this will find its proper place in library and reading-room. -Until that time it may be at work renewing the memories of -a friend, refreshing the recollection of his sweet words, and -calling the attention of the stranger to the American who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> -has paid to Europe some of the literary debt we have owed -so long.</p> - -<p>The writer does not expect that this book will occupy the -permanent place in literature, which he sincerely hopes will -reward those authors who may follow him on this same topic. -Written amid the pressing calls of a busy profession, and -in the season when lyceum lecture engagements, which he -could not postpone, have kept him continually away from -his home; he has attempted nothing more than to give an -outline of a remarkable life, for the purpose of satisfying -the present demand. Errors may be found by critics, such -as all hastily written volumes are liable to contain; but should -this work, as a whole, incline the reader to honor the manhood, -love the poetry, and revere the memory of one whom -the writer for many years has admired and loved, it will -answer the purpose for which it has been written.</p> - -<p>The author cannot do less than acknowledge, in this place, -his great obligations to the father and mother of Mr. Taylor, -to Mrs. Annie Carey, his sister, and to Dr. Franklin Taylor, -his cousin, for their generous courtesy and most important -assistance in gathering the facts for this volume.</p> - -<p>All the poetical quotations in this book are from Taylor’s -poetical works.</p> - -<p>The account of the funeral found in this volume was written -subsequent to the other portions of the work, as the -obsequies and burial took place after the first edition was -printed and sold.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> - -<table summary="Contents"> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER I.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Mr. Taylor’s Career.—Difficulty and Importance of the Work.—The - Romance of his Life.—Variable Experience.—His Success - as Novelist, Orator, Traveller, and Poet,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">13</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER II.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>German Ancestry.—English Ancestry.—The Pennsylvania Germans.—The - Quakers.—How his Forefathers came to America.—The - Effect of Intermixture of Races.—The Hereditary Traits - seen in his Books,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">17</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER III.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Birth at Kennett Square.—Old Homestead.—The Quaker Church.—The - Village.—His Father’s Store.—Life on the Farm.—Mischievous - School-boy.—Inclination to write Poetry.—Practical - Joker.—Studious Youth.—His Parents.—His Brothers and - Sisters,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">21</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER IV.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Unfitness for Farming.—Love for Books.—Goes to the Academy.—Appearance - as a Student.—Love for Geography and History.—Enters - a Printing-office.—Genius for Sketching.—Correspondence - with Literary Men.—Their Advice.—Hon. Charles - Miner.—Putnam’s Tourist Guide.—Determination to go to - Europe.—Dismal Prospects,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">29</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER V.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Visited by his Cousin.—Decides to go to Europe with his Cousin.—Correspondence - with Travellers.—Lack of Money.—Unshaken - Confidence.—Publication of Ximena,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">33</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER VI.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The Contest with Enemies.—Departure from Philadelphia.—Friendship - of N. P. Willis.—Discouraging Reception.—Interview - with Horace Greeley.—Searching for a Vessel.—Steerage - Passage for Liverpool.—Fellow Passengers.—The Voyage.—The - Beauty of the Sea.—Lauding at Liverpool,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">42</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER VII.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Departure from Liverpool.—Travels Second-Class.—Arrival at Port - Rush.—The Giant’s Causeway.—Lost and in Danger.—Dunluce - Castle.—Effect upon the Travellers.—Condition of the - Irish.—Arrival at Dumbarton.—Scaling the Castle Walls.—Walk - to Loch Lomond.—Ascent of Ben Lomond.—Loch - Katrine.—Visit to Stirling,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">50</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>CHAPTER VIII.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Visit to the Home of Burns.—The Poet’s Cottage.—The Celebration.—Walks - and Rides in the Rain.—Edinburgh.—Its - Associations.—The Teachings of History.—Home of Drummond.—Abbotsford.—Melrose.—Jedburgh - Abbey.—Newcastle-on-Tyne,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">59</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER IX.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Visit in London.—Exhibition of Relics.—The Lessons of Travel.—Historical - Association.—London to Ostend.—The Cathedral - at Aix-la-Chapelle.—The Great Cathedral at Cologne.—Voyage - up the Rhine.—Longfellow’s “Hyperion.”—Visit to - Frankfort.—Kind Friends.—Reaches Heidelberg.—Climbing - the Mountains,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">67</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER X.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Study in Frankfort.—Lack of Money.—Different Effect of Want - on Travellers.—Bayard’s Privations.—Again sets out on Foot.—Visit - to the Hartz Mountains.—The Brocken.—Scenes in - “Faust.”—Locality in Literature.—The Battle-field at Leipsic.—Auerbach’s - Cellar,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">77</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XI.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Pictures at Dresden.—Raphael’s Madonna.—Bayard’s Art Education.—His - Exalted Ideas of Art.—His Enthusiasm.—Visits - Bohemia.—Stay in Prague.—The Curiosities of Vienna.—Tomb - of Beethoven.—Respect for Religion.—Listens to - Strauss.—View of Lintz.—Munich and its Decorations.—The - Home of Schiller.—Poetic Landscapes, and Charming People.—Statue - by Thorwaldsen.—Walk to Heidelberg,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">85</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XII.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Starts for Switzerland and Italy.—First View of the Alps.—The - Falls of the Rhine.—Zurich.—A Poet’s Home.—Lake Lucerne.—Goethe’s - Cottage.—Scenes in the Life of William Tell.—Ascent - of the Alps at St. Gothard.—Descent into Italy.—The - Cathedral at Milan.—Bayard’s Characteristics.—Tramp - to Genoa.—Visits Leghorn and Pisa.—Lovely Florence.—Delightful - Visits.—The Home of Art,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">95</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XIII.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Visit to Rome.—Attractions of its Ruins.—Bayard’s Persistent - Searches.—His Limited Means.—Sights and Experiences.—Journey - to Marseilles.—Walks to Lyons.—Desperate Circumstances.—Stay - in Paris.—Employment of his Time.—Departure - for London.—Failure to obtain Money or Work.—Seeks - a Friend.—Obtains Help from a Stranger.—Voyage to - New York.—Arrival Home,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">106</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XIV.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Edits a Country Newspaper.—The “Phœnixville Pioneer.”—The - Discouragements.—The Suspension.—Publishes “Views - Afoot.”—Introduction to Literary Men.—Contributes to the - “Literary World.”—Becomes an Editor of the New York - “Tribune.”—The Gold Excitement of 1849.—Resolves to visit - the Eldorado.—Arrival in California,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">115</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>CHAPTER XV.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Entrance to California.—The Camp at San Francisco in 1849.—Description - of the People.—Gold-Hunters.—Speculations.—Prices - of Merchandise.—Visit to the Diggings.—Adventures - on the Route.—The First Election.—The Constitutional Convention.—San - Francisco after Two Months’ Absence.—Poetical - Descriptions.—Departure for Mexico.—Arrival at Mazatlan.—Overland - to the Capital.—Adventure with Robbers.—Return - to New York,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">120</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XVI.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The Poet’s First Love.—Playmates.—Miss Mary S. Agnew.—His - Fidelity.—Poems Inspired by Affection.—Her Failing Health.—Consumption.—His - Return to Her.—The Marriage at the - Death-bed.—Her Death.—The Poet’s Grief.—His Inner Life.—The - Story in his own Rhyme,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">133</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XVII.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Grief and Despair.—Describes his Feelings.—Failing Health.—Severe - Mental Labor.—Decides to go to Africa.—Visits Vienna.—Arrival - at Alexandria.—Sails up the Nile.—Scenes in - Cairo.—The Pyramids.—The Lovely Nile.—An Important and - Pleasant Acquaintance.—A Lasting Friendship.—Learning the - Language.—Assuming the Costume.—Sights by the Way,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">151</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XVIII.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Moslem. Worship.—Scenery of the Nile.—Fellowship with the - People.—The Temple of Dendera.—Mr. Taylor’s Enthusiasm.—Luxor.—Karnak.—The - Extent of Ancient Thebes.—The - Tombs and Statues.—The Natives.—Arrives at Assouan.—The - Island of Philæ.—Separation of the Friends.—Starts - for the White Nile.—Trip through the Desert.—Again - on The Nile.—Reception by the People and Officials.—Visits - Ancient Meroe,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">164</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XIX.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>From Meroe to Khartoum.—Twenty-seventh Birth-day.—Desire - to Explore Central Africa.—Ascent of the White Nile.—Adventure - with the Savage Shillooks.—Visits the Natives.—Return - to Khartoum.—Crossing the Desert.—Parting with - Friends.—Descent of the Nile.—Arrival at Cairo,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">174</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XX.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Departure from Egypt.—A Poet in Palestine.—Difference in Travellers.—Mr. - Taylor’s Appreciation.—First View of Tyre.—Route - to Jerusalem.—The Holy City.—Bath in the Dead Sea.—Appearance - of Jerusalem.—Samaria.—Looking down upon - Damascus.—Life in the eldest City.—The Bath.—Dose of - Hashish.—Being a Turk among Turks,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">182</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>CHAPTER XXI.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Leaving Damascus.—Arrival at Beyrout.—Trip to Aleppo.—Enters - Asia Minor.—The Scenery and People.—The Hills of Lebanon.—Beautiful - Scenes about Brousa.—Enters Constantinople.—A - Prophecy.—Return to Smyrna.—Again in Italy.—Visits - his German Friend at Gotha.—The Home of his Second - Love.—Goes to London.—Visits Gibraltar.—Cadiz.—Seville.—Spanish - History,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">194</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXII.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Leaves Gibraltar for Alexandria.—Egypt and Old Friends.—The - Town of Suez.—Embarks for Bombay.—Mocha and its Coffee.—Aden.—Arrival - in Bombay.—Reception by the People.—Trip - to Elephanta.—Ride into the Interior.—Difficulties of - the Journey.—Views of Agra.—Scenes about Delhi.—Starts - for the Himalaya Mountains,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">206</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXIII.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The Himalaya Mountains.—Returning Southward.—Lucknow and - Calcutta.—Foretells the Great Rebellion.—Embarks for China.—Visit - to the Mountains of Penang.—The Chinese at Singapore.—Arrival - at Hong-Kong.—Joins the Staff of the U. - S. Commissioner.—Scenes about Shanghai.—The Nanking - Rebellion.—Life in Shanghai.—Enlists in the Navy.—Commodore - Perry’s Expedition,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">221</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXIV.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>His Reception on the Man-of-war.—Commodore Perry’s Tribute.—Mr. - Taylor’s Journals.—Visit to the Loo-Choo Islands.—Explorations.—Mr. - Taylor becomes a Favorite.—His Description of - the Country.—Cruise to Japan.—The Purpose of the Expedition.—Mr. - Taylor’s Assistance.—Return to Hong-Kong.—Resigns - his Commission.—Visits Canton.—Sails for America.—St. - Helena.—Arrival in New York,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">230</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXV.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Takes up the Editorial Pen.—Publication of His “Poems of the - Orient.”—His Books of Travel.—Lecturing before Lyceums.—Friendship - of Richard H. Stoddard.—Private Correspondence.—Love - of Fun.—Resolves to Build a Home at Kennett.—Changes - of Intemperance.—Preparations for a Third Trip to - Europe.—Acquaintance with Thackeray,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">242</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXVI.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Visit to Europe.—Reception in England.—Company in Charge.—Starts - for Sweden.—Stockholm.—The Dangerous Ride.—The - Severe Cold.—Arrival in Lapland.—First Experience with - Canoes and Reindeers.—Becomes a Lapp.—The Extreme - North.—The Days without a Sun.—“Yankee Doodle.”—The - Return.—Study in Stockholm.—Return to Germany and London.—Embarks - for Norway.—Meets his Friend at Christiania.—The - Coast of Norway.—The Midnight Sun.—Trip across - Norway and Sweden.—Return to Germany,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">252</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>CHAPTER XXVII.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>His Marriage.—German Relatives.—Intention of Visiting Siberia.—Goes - to Greece instead.—Dalmatia.—Spolato.—Arrival at - Athens.—His first View of the Propylæa.—The Parthenon.—Excursion - to Crete.—Earthquake at Corinth.—Mycenæ.—Sparta.—The - Ruins of Olympia.—Visit to Thermopylæ.—Aulis.—Return - to Athens.—His Acquirements,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">265</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXVIII.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>From Constantinople to Gotha.—Visit to Russia.—Moscow and - St. Petersburg.—Return to Prussia.—Arrival in the United - States.—Incessant Work.—Lecturing and Travels in California.—The - Construction of Cedarcroft.—His Patriotic Addresses - and Poems.—Visits Germany in 1861.—Anxiety for - the Fate of His Nation.—Life at Cedarcroft,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">276</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXIX.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Appointed as Secretary of Legation.—Life in St. Petersburg.—Literary - Labors.—His Home at Kennett.—Publication of his - Poems.—Visits Iceland.—His Poem at the Millennial Celebration.—Appointment - as Minister to Berlin.—His Congratulations.—Reception - at Berlin.—His Death,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">287</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXX.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>His Friends.—The Multitude of Mourners.—His London Acquaintances.—Tennyson, - Cornwall, Browning, Carlyle.—German - Popularity.—Auerbach.—Humboldt.—French Authors.—Early - American Friends.—Stoddard, Willis, Kane, Bryant, - Halleck, Powers, Greeley, Mrs. Kirkland, Whittier, Longfellow, - Holmes, Emerson, Lowell, Dana, Alcott, Aldrich, Whipple, - Curtis, Fields, Boker, Chandler.—Relatives,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">296</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXXI.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Translations of “Faust.”—A Life-work.—Discouragements.—The - Scenes in “Faust.”—The Difficulties.—Magnitude of the Work.—Perseverance.—The - Lives of Goethe and Schiller.—Years in - the Work.—The Estimate by Scholars.—Dies with the Work - Unfinished,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">308</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXXII.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Grief at his Death.—Homage of the Great Men of Germany.—Tribute - from Auerbach.—Tributes from his Neighbors at Kennett - Square.—Extracts from Addresses.—The Great Memorial - Gathering at Boston.—The Great Assembly.—Speeches and - Letters.—Address of Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes.—Henry W. - Longfellow’s Poem.—Letters from John G. Whittier, George - William Curtis, W. D. Howells, T. B. Aldrich, James T. Fields, - Whitelaw Reid, E. P. Whipple.—Tributes from other friends.—Funeral - Ceremonies.—Closing Quotations,</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">317</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p> - -<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.</h2> - -<table summary="List of Illustrations"> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Bayard Taylor</span>,</td> - <td class="tdpg" colspan="2"><a href="#illus1">Frontispiece.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Tower of London</span>,</td> - <td>Opposite page</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus2">68</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Danube at Lintz</span>,</td> - <td><span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus3">89</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Arena of the Coliseum</span>,</td> - <td><span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus4">107</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Place de la Concorde</span>,</td> - <td><span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus5">111</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Castle of Chapultepec</span>,</td> - <td><span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus6">131</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Philæ Colonnade</span>,</td> - <td><span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus7">170</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Scene in North Africa</span>,</td> - <td><span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus8">178</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Native Cottages in the Tropics</span>,</td> - <td><span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus9">224</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Pagan Temple in Japan</span>,</td> - <td><span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus10">236</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Sledges</span>,</td> - <td><span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus11">255</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Lazaretto Christiansand</span>,</td> - <td><span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus12">257</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Cedarcroft, Kennett Square, Pa.</span>,</td> - <td><span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus13">285</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Nicholas Bridge</span>,</td> - <td><span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus14">287</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> - -<h1><span class="smaller"><span class="smaller">THE</span><br /> -LIFE, TRAVELS, AND LITERARY CAREER<br /> -<span class="smaller">OF</span></span><br /> -BAYARD TAYLOR.</h1> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>Mr. Taylor’s Career.—Difficulty and Importance of the Work.—The -Romance of his Life.—Variable Experience.—His Success -as Novelist, Orator, Traveller, and Poet.</p> - -</div> - -<p>The nearness and magnitude of Bayard Taylor’s life -make it one exceedingly difficult to comprehend and -classify. His adventures were so many, his struggles -so severe, his experience so varied, and his final success -so remarkable, that the materials are too abundant, -and often serve to clog and confuse the student -of his career. An artist who views the mountain -from its base, loses many of the finest effects and -most charming outlines, because of his very close -proximity to them. So, in looking upon the wonderful -career of such a versatile and gifted man, at a time so -near his death, we are less able to form a comprehensive -idea of his life, as a symmetrical whole, than we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -shall be when the years have carried us farther away -from him, and the outlines of his greatness are more -distinct. Whether it were better to wait until a part -of the life has been forgotten, and until the more harsh -and angular features have been lost in the general outline, -or whether it were more desirable to describe the -life in all its actual details, and in the natural ruggedness -which the close view reveals, is, however, a mere -matter of taste. To those who love to read of a man -in whose work there was no unevenness and in whose -experience nothing unbroken is seen, the life of one -so long dead that the writer is compelled to fill up -the forgotten years with ideal events and motives may -furnish the choicest theme. But to those students who -love scientific scrutiny, who would estimate the life -for what it is really worth as an example, the biography -which is written amid all the facts, and by one -who comes in actual contact with them, is perhaps -esteemed the most valuable, although, as a whole, less -symmetrical.</p> - -<p>Bayard Taylor’s life was rugged and cragged with -startling events, when viewed from the kindly poetical -stand-point of his character. He felt all the extremes -of joy and sorrow. He knew all the pains and honors -of poverty and wealth. He was loved by many, he -was betrayed by many. He lived in the most enlightened -lands, he also sojourned among the most barbarous -people. He saw man in peace and in war. He -rode the ocean in calm and in storm. He was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -welcomed guest in the lowliest huts, and in the most -gorgeous palaces. He sweltered in the sands of tropical -deserts, and he was benumbed by the fierce winds -of the Northern ice-fields. He boldly entered the -haunts of wild beasts, and loved the company of -harmless and faithful domestics. He was a man of -many virtues and some faults, each of which made his -life more eventful and fascinating.</p> - -<p>The literary position which he held at the time of -his death, and which was so romantically attained, was -one of almost universal favor. He was respected by -all and loved by many. As a writer of fiction he attained -but little celebrity, and it appears that he had -little expectation of achieving any high honors in that -field. As a writer upon travels, and as a delineator of -human character as found in strange places, and in but -partially known countries, he was second to none. -His books upon travel will be read for a century to -come, whether thousands or few visit the localities and -tribes he has described. As an orator, he never held -a high rank. He was chaste, concise, and clear in his -choice of words, and had an incisive, pungent way of -stating his ideas. He could instruct the student and -amuse the populace, but had not the power to agitate -and carry away large bodies of men, and seems -never to have been very ambitious to do so. As a -translator of German literature, he was fast becoming -recognized in all English-speaking countries as an -excellent authority, and it is deeply to be regretted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -that he was called away with so many uncompleted -translation, and unfinished plans for translations, from -the standards of German literature. But it is as a poet -that he receives the greatest homage. Yet how little -he printed! Unless there shall be found laid away -many poems unpublished, he may be classed as one of -the least prolific poets of his generation. His lines -are so simple, so true to life, such incarnate sentences, -so expressive, that, to one who has had a similar experience -with the poet, every stanza is a panorama, vivid -and indelible. We shall see as we pursue the tale, how -sensitive he was to everything poetical, and how deeply -he was moved by all those finer and more subtle emotions, -which only a poet can feel. His love was deep -and abiding. His friendship, like the oaks of his -Cedarcroft woodland. His old home was to him the -sweetest place in all the beautiful lands he saw. His -life was full of romantic incidents, and he recognized -them and appreciated them, for the poetry they suggested. -We venture to say that his poetry will live -in every household, if all his other works should be -forgotten.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>German Ancestry.—English Ancestry.—The Pennsylvania Germans.—The -Quakers.—How his Forefathers came to America.—The -Effect of Intermixture of Races.—The Hereditary Traits -seen in his Books.</p> - -</div> - -<p>The ancestry of Bayard Taylor were connected -with some of the best blood of England and Germany. -His grandmothers were both German, and his grandfathers -both English. The German line comes from -that body of emigrants, consisting of large numbers -from Weimar, Jena, Cassel, Göttingen, Hanover, and -perhaps Gotha, who sailed from Bremen and Hamburg -between 1730 and 1745. The continued quarrels -among the dukes and princes of Germany,—the -wars in progress and impending, wherein the peace -of the people was incessantly disturbed,—caused a -universal uneasiness among the people of those small -nations. They never were quite sure of a day’s rest. -If they sowed unmolested, there was a grave doubt -whether some complication with France, England, or -Poland might not bring foreign invaders or allies to -destroy or devour the crops. The wars were so incessant, -and the quarrels among the petty lords so frequent, -that the people became disheartened. They<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -were weary of building for others to destroy, and of -rearing sons to be sacrificed to some individual’s -ambition. All those German provinces, or duchies, -had to accommodate themselves to the religion of their -princes, and, at times, the winds that played about the -hills of the Black Forest were far less uncertain. To -the fathers of these emigrants, who sought America as a -haven of religious and political rest, George Fox and -his Quaker disciples had taught the doctrines of “The -Holy Spirit,” and, under various guises, the tenets of -that belief still survived in the German heart.</p> - -<p>Those Germans who settled in the counties of -Pennsylvania, lying to the south and south-west of -Philadelphia, came to this country during the disturbances -in the Fatherland, caused by Augustus, Maria -Theresa, Frederick, and the scores of other princes -who were in power, or seeking to secure it, in the -numerous states and free cities of Germany. It is -no light excuse, no desire for mere wealth, no hasty -search for the fountains of youth, that causes the -solid, earnest, patriotic people of Saxony, Baden, or -Bavaria to leave forever the home of their nativity. -It is a little curious to see how these races, which so -cordially and hospitably received the Quaker missionaries -from England, should at last unite with them in -the settlement of the New World, and, by their intermarriage, -produce such offshoots of the united stock -as Bayard Taylor and his cotemporaries.</p> - -<p>The Quaker ancestry of the poet,—the Taylors<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> -and the Ways,—run back through a long line of -industrious men and women, more or less known in -Central Pennsylvania, to the colony which William -Penn sent over from England to cultivate the great -land-grant, which King Charles II., of England, gave -him, in consideration of his father’s services as admiral -in the British navy. They, too, were driven from -their homes by the incessant turmoil either of wars or -religious persecutions. Their preachers had again and -again been imprisoned, while some had died the death -of martyrs. Even Penn himself was often in chains -and in prison, for being a peaceable believer in the -truth of the Quaker doctrines; but so blameless were -the lives of these people, and so forgiving their -Christian behavior, that the term “Quakers,” which -was at first applied to them in derision, became at -last a title of respect and honor. “The fear of the -Lord did make us quake,” was a common expression -with George Fox, the founder of the sect, and the -name “Quakers” originated in sneers at that devout -sentence.</p> - -<p>It is easy to trace in the history of the State of -Pennsylvania, the influence of the Quaker spirit, and -its impression upon the institutions of the American -nation is also strikingly apparent. But when one -takes up the life of one of their descendants, and -studies his habits, his style of thought, and his ideas -of social and political institutions, the hereditary -Quaker element, in a modified form, is detected in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -every motion and expression. It would seem as if -any reader, to whom the author is unknown, would -detect at once, in any volume of Taylor’s poetry or -travels, the fact that he came from Quaker stock. As -will be more clearly shown in a subsequent chapter, -the teachings of the Quakers, and their manner of -expression by gesture and phrase, have unconsciously -and charmingly crept into the bosom of his best -works. It is a great boon to be born of such a physical -and mental combination as that of the German -soldiers, with all their coolness and bravery, and the -even-tempered, God-fearing Quakers, with all their -grace and wisdom. Such intermixture has given to -our young nation much of its surprising enterprise -and originality, and must, at last, when consolidated -into a compact people, produce a nation and a race -wholly unlike any other on the earth.</p> - -<p>It is not known that any of Bayard Taylor’s ancestry -were literary men, or that any of them were -endowed with special genius, beyond that which was -necessary to clear the forests, cultivate the soil, manage -manufacturing enterprises, and carry on small -mercantile establishments. Solid people, with wide -common-sense, industrious hands and generous hearts, -they have modestly held their way, doing their simple -duty, and, Quaker-like, making no display.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>Birth at Kennett Square.—Old Homestead.—The Quaker Church.—The -Village.—His Father’s Store.—Life on the Farm.—Mischievous -School-boy.—Inclination to write Poetry.—Practical -Joker.—Studious Youth.—His Parents.—His Brothers and -Sisters.</p> - -</div> - -<p>Bayard Taylor was born at Kennett Square, -Penn., Jan. 11, 1825. His mother, whose maiden -name was Rebecca Way, was then twenty-nine years -of age, and his father was thirty-one. The house -then occupied was a two-story stone-and-mortar -structure, such as are yet very common in the farming -regions of central Pennsylvania. The house was -long and narrow, having a porch that extended along -the whole front. The rooms were small and low, -but it was considered by the farmers of that time -as a very comfortable and respectable home. It was -located at the junction of two highways, and near the -centre of the little hamlet called the “Square,” and -sometimes the “Village.” But few families resided -there in 1825, and the people were all more or less -engaged in the cultivation of the soil. The little rude -Quaker meeting-house, so box-like and cold in its -aspect, was doubtless the centre of attraction, and the -desire to be near the house of God, led those devoted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -Quakers to build their dwellings on that portion of -their lands which lay nearest the church.</p> - -<p>The village has increased in growth, and now has a -population of six or seven hundred, with several -churches belonging to other denominations, and very -flourishing schools. But the old homestead building, -in which Bayard was born, was destroyed by fire in -1876.</p> - -<p>At the time of his birth, his father kept a miscellaneous -stock of merchandise in one room of his -house, and supplied the necessities of the farmers, so -far as the small capital of a country store could anticipate -their wants. Situated thirty-five miles from Philadelphia, -to which place he was compelled to send the -produce he received, and in which place he purchased -his simple stock of goods, the merchant had a -task on his hands which cannot be appreciated or -understood in these days of railways, telegraphs, and -commercial travellers. One of his neighbors, living -in 1872, used to relate how Mr. Taylor, having had a -call for two hay-rakes, which he could not supply, -drove all the way to West Chester, the distance of a -dozen miles, to get those tools for his customer.</p> - -<p>At the time of Bayard’s birth, his parents had been -married seven years. Their life had already been -subject to many trials, and was fated to meet many -more. Of a family of ten children, only one-half the -number survived to see mature years. The losses by -mercantile ventures, by failing crops, by sickness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -and accidents, often swept away the hard earnings of -many a month. Yet they struggled on, industrious -and cheerful, keeping themselves and their children -ever busy.</p> - -<p>When Bayard was two or three years old, his father -purchased a farm about a mile from the village, and -giving up his mercantile avocations, turned his whole -attention to farming. On that farm Bayard spent the -opening years of his life, and on one section of it did -he build his beautiful home of “Cedarcroft.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“The beginning and the end is here—</div> -<div class="verse">The days of youth; the silvered years.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">How deeply he loved his home, how sincere his affection -for the rolling fields, the chestnut and the walnut -woodland, the old stone farm-house, the clumsy barn, -the old highway, the acres of corn and wheat, the distant -village and its quaint old church, can be seen in -a thousand expressions finding place in his published -works. His poetical nature opened to his view beautiful -landscapes and charming associations which others -would not detect. The birds sang in an intelligible -language; the leaves on the corn entered into -conversation; the lowing of the cows could be interpreted; -and the rocks were romantic story-tellers. -He loved them all. That farm was his Mecca in all -his travels. When he left, he says he promised bird, -beast, trees, and knolls, that he would return to -them. To the writer, who went to Cedarcroft after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -the poet’s death, and who has so long loved and -admired his poetry, it seemed as if the trees patiently -awaited his return. All things in nature must have -loved and trusted him, or they would not have confided -to him so many of their secrets.</p> - -<p>Of the pastoral life in Pennsylvania he speaks with -pleasing directness in his volume entitled “Home -Pastorals.” In one place the aged farmer says:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Well—well! this is comfort now—the air is mild as May,</div> -<div class="verse">And yet ’tis March the twentieth, or twenty-first, to-day;</div> -<div class="verse">And Reuben ploughs the hill for corn: I thought it would be tough;</div> -<div class="verse">But now I see the furrows turned, I guess it’s dry enough.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">I’m glad I built this southern porch; my chair seems easier here:</div> -<div class="verse">I haven’t seen as fine a spring this five and twenty year.</div> -<div class="verse">And how the time goes round so quick: a week I would have sworn,</div> -<div class="verse">Since they were husking on the flat, and now they plough for corn!</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Across the level Brown’s new place begins to make a show;</div> -<div class="verse">I thought he’d have to wait for trees, but, bless me, how they grow!</div> -<div class="verse">They say it’s fine—two acres filled with evergreens and things;</div> -<div class="verse">But so much land! it worries me, for not a cent it brings.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">He has the right, I don’t deny, to please himself that way,</div> -<div class="verse">But ’tis a bad example set, and leads young folks astray:</div> -<div class="verse">Book-learning gets the upper hand, and work is slow and slack,</div> -<div class="verse">And they that come long after us will find things gone to wrack.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Well—I suppose I’m old, and yet it is not long ago</div> -<div class="verse">When Reuben spread the swath to dry, and Jesse learned to mow,</div> -<div class="verse">And William raked, and Israel hoed, and Joseph pitched with me,</div> -<div class="verse">But such a man as I was then my boys will never be!</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">I don’t mind William’s hankering for lectures and for books,</div> -<div class="verse">He never had a farming knack—you’d see it in his looks;</div> -<div class="verse">But handsome is that handsome does, and he is well to do:</div> -<div class="verse">’Twould ease my mind if I could say the same of Jesse, too.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">’Tis like my time is nearly out; of that I’m not afraid;</div> -<div class="verse">I never cheated any man, and all my debts are paid.</div> -<div class="verse">They call it rest that we shall have, but work would do no harm;</div> -<div class="verse">There can’t be rivers there, and fields, without some sort o’ farm.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>No description in prose can as well describe his -occupation as a boy, as his own lines, in the poem of -the “Holly Tree.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“The corn was warm in the ground, the fences were mended and made,</div> -<div class="verse">And the garden-beds, as smooth as a counterpane is laid,</div> -<div class="verse">Were dotted and striped with green, where the peas and the radishes grew,</div> -<div class="verse">With elecampane at the foot, and comfrey, and sage, and rue.</div> -<div class="verse">From the knoll where stood the house, the fair fields pleasantly rolled,</div> -<div class="verse">To dells where the laurels hung, and meadows of buttercup gold.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Such was the farm when he left it, in words of the -poet’s choosing, and what he found when, after a -quarter of a century of wanderings, he can best describe.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Here are the fields again, the soldierly maize in tassel</div> -<div class="verse">Stands on review, and carries the scabbarded ears in its armpits.</div> -<div class="verse">Rustling, I part the ranks,—the close, engulfing battalions</div> -<div class="verse">Shaking their plumes overhead,—and, wholly bewildered and heated,</div> -<div class="verse">Gain the top of the ridge, where stands, colossal, the pin-oak.</div> -<div class="verse">Yonder, a mile away, I see the roofs of the village,—</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -<div class="verse">See the crouching front of the meeting-house of the Quakers,</div> -<div class="verse">Oddly conjoined with the whittled Presbyterian steeple.</div> -<div class="verse">Right and left are the homes of the slow, conservative farmers,</div> -<div class="verse">Loyal people and true; but, now that the battles are over,</div> -<div class="verse">Zealous for Temperance, Peace, and the Eight of Suffrage for Women.</div> -<div class="verse">Orderly, moral are they,—at least, in the sense of suppression;</div> -<div class="verse">Given to preaching of rules, inflexible outlines of duty:</div> -<div class="verse">Seeing the sternness of life; but, alas! overlooking its graces.</div> -<div class="verse">Let me be juster: the scattered seeds of the graces are planted</div> -<div class="verse">Widely apart; but the trumpet-vine on the porch is a token:</div> -<div class="verse">Yea, and awake and alive are the forces of love and affection,</div> -<div class="verse">Plastic forces that work from the tenderer models of beauty.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>There must be many things in the events of common -life which find no voice in poetry, as every life -has its prose side. At all events, there were some -duties connected with agricultural work which young -Bayard never enjoyed. He never was ambitious to -follow the plough, or do the miscellaneous odd jobs -which perplex and weary a farmer’s boy. Yet, like -Burns, he worked cheerfully, and wrung more or less -poetry out of every occupation. He was a spare, -wiry, nervous boy, quick at work, study, or play, -and consequently had many leisure moments, when -other boys were drudging along with ceaseless toil. -His schoolmates, and the only school-teacher now -living (1879) who taught him in his boyhood, all -agree that he was a mischievous boy. He loved practical -jokes, and, in fact, jokes of every kind. But -he was ceaselessly framing verses. When his lesson -was mastered, which was always in an incredibly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -short space of time after he took up his book, he -plunged recklessly into poetry. Verses about the -teacher, about snowbanks, about buttercups, about -pigs, about courting, funerals, church services, schoolmates, -and countless other themes filled his desk, -pockets, and hat.</p> - -<p>Often he wrote love letters, couched in the most -delicate phraseology, and signing the name of some -classmate to them, would send them to astonished -ploughboys and blushing maidens. One old gentleman -in West Chester, Penn., always claimed that a set -of Bayard’s burlesque verses, sent out in that way, -induced him to court and marry a girl with whom -he had no acquaintance, until the explanation of his -tender epistle was demanded by her father. What -volumes of poetry he must have written, which never -saw the type, and how much more of that which he -was in the habit of repeating to himself was left unwritten! -The life he led, from his earliest school -days, until he was fifteen years of age, was that -of every farmer’s boy in America, who is compelled -to work hard through the spring, summer, and autumn, -and attend the district school in the winter. -The only remarkable difference between Bayard and -many other boys, was found in his strong desire to -read, and his genius for poetry. He gathered the -greater part of his youthful education from books, -which he read at home, and by himself.</p> - -<p>He had a noble father, and a lovely mother, God<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -bless them! and they made it as easy for Bayard as -they could in justice to the other children. They -might not have fully understood the signs of genius -which he displayed; but they put no needless stumbling-blocks -in his way. No better proof of this -is needed, than the excellent record of the other -children, all of whom hold enviable positions in society. -One brother, Dr. J. Howard Taylor, is a -physician, and connected with the health department -of the city of Philadelphia; another, William W. Taylor, -is a most skilful civil engineer; while a third, -Col. Frederick Taylor, was killed at the battle of -Gettysburg, when leading the celebrated Bucktail -Regiment of Pennsylvania. Two sisters are living,—Mrs. -Annie Carey, wife of a Swiss gentleman; -and Mrs. Lamborn, wife of Col. Charles B. Lamborn, -of Colorado. Growing up in such a family, -as an elder brother, involved much patient toil, and -great responsibility. The best tribute to him, in -those days, was paid by an old lady, of Reading, -Penn., who knew him in his youth, and who summed -up her evidence to the writer in the words, “He did -all he could.”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>Unfitness for Farming.—Love for Books.—Goes to the Academy.—Appearance -as a Student.—Love for Geography and History.—Enters -a Printing-office.—Genius for Sketching.—Correspondence -with Literary Men.—Their Advice.—Hon. Charles -Miner.—Putnam’s Tourist Guide.—Determination to go to -Europe.—Dismal Prospects.</p> - -</div> - -<p>Joseph Taylor was too intelligent and observing -not to notice how unfit was his son Bayard for tending -sheep, hoeing corn, and weeding beds of vegetables. -The intellectual inclination exhibited by the -boy in every undertaking, and his frail form, led -Mr. and Mrs. Taylor to look about for some -occupation for their son more fitting than the hard -drudgery of a farm. The eagerness with which he -devoted himself to the study of such books as -could then be secured; his schemes for obtaining -volumes considered by his parents, until then, wholly -beyond their reach; his poems and essays, learned in -the hayfield, and written out after the day’s work was -done, all confirmed them in the feeling that it was -their duty to give up his assistance on the homestead, -and permit him to follow the leading of his genius. -It was with no little anxiety that they sent him “away -to school”; for they felt then that they might not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -have their son, as a companion, at home again. Mr. -Gause then taught an excellent high school at West -Chester, the county seat, and to that they sent him -for a short time. One of his classmates at that school, -now residing in Baltimore, says he remembers distinctly -how awkward and rustic Bayard appeared -when he first entered the school, and how radical and -rapid was the change from the ploughboy to the student. -He became a universal favorite, and was so able -to teach, and so ready to help, that he had a large -number of scholars following him about half the time, -for the purpose of getting assistance at their lessons. -Yet he found much time to read other books than -those containing his studies, and as in a village of the -size of West Chester, there were some small libraries, -his desire for reading could be gratified. Geography -was his favorite study, and, in the pursuit of information, -he sought out and read so many books relating -to the places mentioned in the text-book, that his -classmates used to say that “Bayard knows all about -his geography without even reading his lessons over.”</p> - -<p>He was soon well acquainted with the history of -the world, and had the most interesting events connected -with the wars of Europe fresh in his mind. -He read about Edinburgh, London, Paris, Berlin, -and Dresden; of William the Conqueror, Peter the -Great, Charlemagne, and Mahomet; of the adventures -of the Crusaders, of the wars of the Roses, the Thirty -Years’ War, and Napoleon’s campaigns; and, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -each volume, built higher those castles in the air, -which many youths construct on the excitement of -such themes. It seems astonishing how a boy of -fourteen years could appreciate so much of the books -he read, when we recall the dulness and dryness which -characterized almost every history then extant, and -the exceedingly difficult subjects of which they treated. -He read, one day, for a few minutes, in Unionville, in -1839, from a book that lay on the mantel-shelf, and -although the subject was that of art and the beauty of -Raphael’s Madonna and child, he understood it so -well, and remembered it so clearly, that, in 1845, -when at Dresden, where the picture was exhibited, he -was able to recall the words of that description, and -the name of the writer.</p> - -<p>The circumstances in which his parents were placed, -made it impossible for them to support him long at -school, neither was he inclined to be a charge upon -them. He desired to be able to earn money for himself, -both to relieve his parents of the expense, and to -furnish means for purchasing books. He was a bold -youth. He seemed to fear nothing. He had a -sublime faith in his own success, which was not egotism -nor pride, but an inspiration. Very often, when -he had read a book, he would sit down and write to -the author; which fact was not, in itself, so astonishing -as the fact that he wrote letters so bright and sensible, -that in nearly every case he obtained a courteous, -and often a lengthy reply. In this way, he made the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -acquaintance of many men well known in the literary -circles of America, several of whom were of great -assistance to him a few years after. When he was -but ten years old, and still on the old farm, he read -“Pencillings by the Way,” which was a narrative of -foreign travel, written by Nathaniel P. Willis, and -published in the New York “Mirror,” of which Mr. -Willis was then an associate editor.</p> - -<p>Young Bayard soon after entered into a correspondence -with Mr. Willis on literary matters, and continued -the interchange of letters until the death of Mr. -Willis, in 1867. In the same manner young Bayard -secured the attention, advice, and assistance of Rufus -W. Griswold, who edited the “New World” and the -“New Yorker,” and who, in 1842 and 1843, edited -“Graham’s Magazine,” in Philadelphia. Dr. Griswold -was also a poet, and in fact had been in every -branch of literary work, from writing items in Boston -for a weekly paper, through type-setting, reporting, -and compiling, to writing sermons as a Baptist minister. -He had led a wandering life, had seen much of -the world, and was well acquainted, as an editor and -reviewer, with all the best works of history, travel, and -poetry. From him Bayard received much sensible -advice and much encouragement. To him Bayard -sent some of his earliest poems, and thus secured -their publication.</p> - -<p>It is probable that Bayard became acquainted with -Henry S. Evans, editor of the West Chester “Village<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -Record,” through some of his poetical contributions -to that paper. However that may be, he sought the -office of that paper for an opportunity to learn the -printer’s trade, when it had been decided by his parents -to let him go. The “Village Record” had long -been a respected and favorite journal for that county, -and had, under the editorial management of Hon. -Charles Miner, been the intellectual training-school -of many influential and noted men. Mr. Evans was -conducting the paper with much ability, and it was -then usually considered a great opportunity for any -young man if an opening was found for him in the -office of that periodical.</p> - -<p>Yet Bayard did not like the work of a printer, -and especially despised the work which naturally fell -to his lot as a new apprentice. He took to sketching; -and having added the instruction of a teacher, for a -few weeks, to a natural tact for drawing, he “illustrated” -almost everything within reach which had a -smooth surface. He caricatured the printers and editors, -and brought out the worst features of his associates -in horrible cartoons. He sent to delinquent -correspondents pictures of ink-bottles and long quills. -He sketched himself in the mirror, and sent the copy -to inquiring friends. Far too intent upon drawings, -poetry, and travels to make much progress as a printer, -he became tired of the occupation and longed to -be free. There came to his hands some time before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -he entered the printing-office, a small book, intended -partly for home reading and partly as a guide-book -for European travellers, entitled “The Tourist in -Europe.” It was written by George P. Putnam, of -New York, and told the routes, and described the -wonders to be seen, in a very fascinating way to one -like Bayard, whose imagination was already excited to -the most enthusiastic pitch. The boy appears to have -studied that book with the greatest and most persevering -zeal. He used it for a plan of reading, and -taking it by course, borrowed books relating to the -places mentioned by Mr. Putnam, until one by one -he had learned the history, occupation, literary -achievements, and habits of every city or town of -note in the whole of Europe. He made up his mind -that he was going to Europe. Just how or when was -a mystery. But that he was going soon he had no -doubt. He spoke of his trip to England and Germany -with the confidence of one who has his ticket -and letter of credit already in his pocket. Yet he was -a penniless boy, who had scarcely seen a ship, and -who knew but a few phrases outside of his native -tongue. His friends laughed at him, and gravely told -his relatives that if Bayard did not curb his rambling -disposition he would become a beggar and a disgrace. -Even that chosen schoolmate, whose dark eyes and -tresses held more influence over his thoughts and -movements than the world knew, or he himself would -publicly acknowledge, laughed incredulously as he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -told her of his projected visits to the castles, towers, -shrines, and battle-fields of Europe and Asia.</p> - -<p>The months rolled heavily away, and his fingers -wearied with the type, and his heart became sad because -of the long delay. He began to be ashamed of -his boasts, but patiently waited. For two years he -studied, planned, prophesied, yearned for a trip to -Europe; having in the meantime made a short and -hazardous tramp to the Catskills, with money saved -from his clothing allowance as an apprentice. He -ventured to write to some ship-owners in Philadelphia, -to ascertain if he could work his passage. -He often mentioned his proposed trip to his -employer, and asked to be released from his engagement -and agreement as an apprentice. Mr. Evans -only smiled and said that Bayard need not trouble -himself about that at present; it would be all right -when the time came for him to go. Thus, with a -conviction that he should certainly go, and yet heart-sick -at the delay, Bayard reached his nineteenth -birthday.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>Visited by his Cousin.—Decides to go to Europe with his Cousin.—Correspondence -with Travellers.—Lack of Money.—Unshaken -Confidence.—Publication of Ximena.</p> - -</div> - -<p>Bayard had a cousin Frank, or Franklin, whom he -held in great respect, and whose subsequent life, as -will be seen hereafter, justified the high esteem in -which Bayard held him. This young man, a few -years older than Bayard, had, by much patience and -perseverance, succeeded in obtaining sufficient money -to support himself in an economical manner in Germany, -and had made up his mind to attend the lectures -at the university in Heidelberg.</p> - -<p>“Are you really going, Frank?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Bayard, I am going sure.”</p> - -<p>“Then I am going with you.”</p> - -<p>“But, Bayard, how are you going to get the money -to pay your expenses?”</p> - -<p>“I do not know where it is coming from, not even -for my outfit, but I am going with you.”</p> - -<p>Bayard had written to a great many people, of -whom he had heard, asking them about the expense -and outfit for a tour in Europe. Some of them had -made the journey, and some had completed their preparations;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -but they all placed the amount so high as -to appear like a fabulous sum to the poor apprentice. -None placed the fare at less than five hundred dollars, -while some of the estimates were as high as eighteen -hundred dollars. Of course this poor boy could -not earn nor borrow either of these amounts. Yet -he was confident that in some way he would be able -to overcome the difficulty.</p> - -<p>Dr. Griswold, of whom mention was made in the -last chapter, had suggested that it might be wise for -Bayard to publish, in small book-form, his sonnets and -other poems, and sell them to friends and admirers; -and when he found that Frank was going, he determined -to try that method of raising a little money. -He went to some of his old friends and neighbors for -assistance to print his little volume; but so little was -their faith in the boy they had known from his birth, -that they told him they would not encourage him in -a scheme so absurd and impracticable. But Bayard -only became the more determined with each defeat. -He renewed his application to friends more distant, -and, as is usually the case, he found they had more -confidence than those who looked upon him as the -boy they knew on the farm. From those distant -friends, living in Philadelphia and West Chester, he -at last obtained such assistance as to be able to print -a few copies of his poems. He christened his first -volume “Ximena, and other Poems,” and finding -many kindly disposed persons who would like to help<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -him to the small sum asked for the book, but who -would have been ashamed to present him with so -diminutive an amount, he was enabled to dispose of -enough in a few days to pay his expenses and a -profit of twenty dollars. Acting upon the advice of -Nathaniel P. Willis, he applied to the editors of the -various newspapers in Philadelphia for employment as -a travelling correspondent; but letters from Europe -were becoming stale, and correspondence was overdone, -so that he was met with discouraging refusals -on every hand. Fortunately, some one suggested to -him the names of the “Saturday Evening Post,” and -the “United States Gazette.” He was, however, -without hope of anything from them. He has since -said to his friends, that he then thought as he could -not fare any worse than he had done, it would do no -harm to try again. His confidence in his final success -was so great, that he had made a settlement with Mr. -Evans, of the “Village Record,” and had left the employment -of a printer before he had found or thought -of a way to secure funds for his intended trip. He had -no money, no outfit, no employment; and yet he was -sure he should go. In that condition, and in a state -of mind bordering on wonder, because the way which -was to open had so long remained shut, this thin, -awkward youth walked confidently into the office of -the “Saturday Evening Post.” Mr. S. D. Patterson -was then its editor, and, while he was disposed to -assist the young man, he did not have much faith in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -his success as a correspondent. Mr. Patterson, however, -gave Bayard some encouragement, and the -youth, with lighter step, went to the office of the -“United States Gazette.” Not finding Mr. J. R. -Chandler at his editorial room, Bayard went to the -editor’s residence. Mr. Chandler was sick in bed; -but he was able to converse with Bayard, and received -him very pleasantly. The young man had never met -Mr. Chandler before; but he stated his cause with such -frankness and clearness, and showed such confidence -in his final triumph, that Mr. Chandler took out his -pocket-book and gave Bayard fifty dollars, saying that -if he sent any letters of sufficient interest they would -be inserted in the columns of the “Gazette.” Mr. -Chandler did not, at the time, care for letters from -Europe, and did not expect to publish any; but, acting -from the promptings of a generous heart, he -freely gave the assistance desired. Of Mr. Chandler’s -honorable career, more will be said in another chapter.</p> - -<p>On returning to Mr. Patterson, Bayard found him -willing to do as he had proposed, and the sum of fifty -dollars was added to the gift of Mr. Chandler. Then, -as if fortunes, like misfortunes, come not singly, he -found a customer for some manuscript poems in a -friend of Dr. Griswold,—George R. Graham. From -him Bayard received twenty dollars, making the -round sum of one hundred and forty dollars with -which to begin his journey to the Old World. Bayard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -now felt independent and happy. At least he -could get across the Atlantic Ocean. He might have -to work as a compositor, or as a common laborer, or -even beg for his bread after he arrived on the other -side; he did not know, and seemed to care but little. -He had encountered a hard fortune here, and conquered, -and he felt sure that he could do as well -there. Happy, proud day was it for him when he -returned with the money to his home at Kennett -Square. Sad day for Mary Agnew. But as she and -Bayard were only playmates and schoolmates, she -must not appear to be especially grieved.</p> - -<p>The next thing to be done was to obtain a passport -from the United States Government. It could only -be obtained in Washington, and as they could not -afford the expense of the stages, Frank and Bayard -started for Washington on foot. It would seem as -if such a journey of one hundred and twenty miles,—in -which they walked thirty miles to Port Deposit, -thence in a rickety tow-boat to Baltimore, and from -that city to Washington, they tramped all night without -food or drink,—would have discouraged any one -from attempting to walk through the countries of -Europe. For they must have returned from this first -walk footsore and lame in every joint. Yet they -came back as full of hope as when they started out, -having seen Mr. Calhoun, then Secretary of State, -and many other celebrities then inhabiting the capital -city,—June, 1844.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> - -<p>Oh! those farewells! To the parents who had -watched over him so long, it seemed like losing him -forever, so far away and mythical did Europe seem to -be. Their lips consented, but their hearts kept rapping -no, no, no, in rebellious throbs. The brothers -and sisters wept with a grief never before so keen, -and a dread never before so deep. But to the youth, -before whom the great unexplored world lay in its -beauty, and who could not then realize, as he did so -keenly afterwards, that in all the world he would find -no spot so sweet and interesting to him as would be -the one he was leaving, it was a joy over which the -sadness of parting for a time was but as the shadow -of a cloud on the summer sea. High hopes, great -aspirations, drove him along, while romantic castles -and fortresses, brilliant rivers, heavenly gardens, -majestic mountains, wise people, delightful music, -gorgeous galleries of art, and indescribable landscapes, -beckoned him to come. Giddy with anticipation, -trembling with conflicting emotions, he stood in -the shade of the oak and the hickory of the old home -that morning, bidding his loved ones good-by. He -was a hero. There was the sense of present loss, and -of danger to come; but it weighed not with him as -against the great ambition of his life.</p> - -<p>Did he bid Mary Agnew farewell? Perhaps! The -mature poet will tell us, in his own sweet way, by and -by.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>The Contest with Enemies.—Departure from Philadelphia.—Friendship -of N. P. Willis.—Discouraging Reception.—Interview -with Horace Greeley.—Searching for a Vessel.—Steerage -Passage for Liverpool.—Fellow Passengers.—The Voyage.—The -Beauty of the Sea.—Landing at Liverpool.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“How rosed with morn, how angel innocent,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Thus looking back, I see my lightsome youth!</div> -<div class="verse">Each thought a wondrous bounty Heaven had lent,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">And each illusion was a radiant truth!</div> -<div class="verse">Each sorrow dead bequeathed a young desire,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Each hovering doubt, or cloud of discontent,</div> -<div class="verse">So interfused with Faith’s pervading fire,</div> -<div class="verse">That to achieve seemed light as to aspire!”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse right">—<cite>Taylor.</cite></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Bayard was not an exception to the universal rule, -found true by nearly every scholar, and every successful -statesman. He was ridiculed by a thoughtless -throng. His success in the matters he undertook subjected -him to the slights and backbiting of envious -simpletons, and everywhere the looks and shrugs of -his acquaintances told with what contempt they -looked upon his endeavors to be a poet, and to see -the world. It was the same old trial, and only those -young men who, like Bayard, are able to stand firm -against ridicule and envy, ever reach the acropolis of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> -their ambition. No record has been found of the -effect these things had upon Bayard, or upon the two -noble young men who were his companions; but we -do know that they turned not from their purpose. -Bayard’s sensitive nature, his warm heart, his innocent -ambition must have felt the stings, and, at times in -after life, he spoke as one who had not forgotten. -How grand and honorable the exceptional appearance -of the few who were generous and faithful to the poor -boy on the threshold of his life!</p> - -<p>Taking with them only such baggage as they could -carry in their hands, these three young men,—Bayard -Taylor, Franklin Taylor, and Barclay Pennock.—started -for New York the last week in June, 1844. -There had been but little delay, notwithstanding the -day for departure had been set before Bayard knew -where the funds were to come from to defray his -expenses.</p> - -<p>There was a strong hope in Bayard’s mind that Mr. -N. P. Willis, who had written him such encouraging -letters, would be able to assist him in securing -employment as a travelling correspondent of some -of the New York daily papers. Mr. Willis was -widely known, and greatly respected in New York, -and, on the arrival of Bayard at his office, he entered -heartily into the work of procuring such a situation -for his young friend. But foreign correspondence -had been as much overdone in New York as in Philadelphia. -So many writers had tried to make a name<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -by imitating the first successful correspondents, that -the people were weary with the monotonous story. -It was as well known then as it is now, that copyists -and imitators are not what a live, active, original newspaper -requires. Correspondence from almost anywhere -could be made interesting and amusing, if the -writer would only write naturally, and describe the -things he saw in just the light they appeared to him. -No one thought that this boy would do anything else -but follow in the old track. Hence they wished for -none of his writings. One gentleman told him that -it was useless to make engagements, for a youth, -going into a strange country in that hap-hazard way, -would not live to write any letters. Mr. Willis’ -generous assistance availed Bayard nothing with a -people who had so often been compelled to form their -own opinion of the people they wished to employ, and -who considered themselves the best judges.</p> - -<p>In the editorial room of the New York “Tribune” -sat the editor, whose name is being written higher, on -the list of America’s great men, by every succeeding -year. To his quick eye, there was promise of noble -things in the countenance of the boy. He had himself -been a venturesome, ambitious, penniless boy, and, -like Bayard, he had boldly pushed his boat into the -dangerous billows. He may have remembered Benjamin -Franklin’s hazardous trip, as a boy, to Philadelphia, -for Bayard was mentioned by Mr. Willis as -a young man from the Quaker city. Whatever may<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -have been his thoughts, he treated Bayard with his -usual consideration, and informed the youth that he -was ready to publish and pay for all letters that were -worth inserting in the “Tribune.” But he solemnly -warned Bayard against attempting to write anything -until he knew enough about the country to write -intelligently. Bayard told Mr. Greeley that he would -try to get acquainted with the people of Germany and -their institutions, and, as soon as he felt competent, -would send a few letters for Mr. Greeley’s criticism. -The busy editor nodded as the boy thanked him, -bade him good-day, and, doubtless, instantly forgot -there had ever been such a visitor; and left the fact -in oblivion, until it was brought to mind some months -afterwards by the arrival of a letter from Germany.</p> - -<p>Mr. Willis told Bayard, as he said afterwards, to -keep up his courage, and go forward: “The way to -Valhalla is broad and smooth to the hero, but narrow -and dangerous to the coward.” It appears by the -brief account which is given in the introduction to -his “Views Afoot,” published by Putnam & Sons, -New York, that the party had a difficult task to find -a vessel in which the accommodations, rates of passage, -and port of destination were within their plan. -They intended at first to take a vessel direct for the -Continent; but in such of them as were bound for -continental ports, the fare was too high. They -were, however, on the point of taking passage in a -Dutch sailing vessel, the consignees of which were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -acquaintances of Mr. Willis, and consequently made -some reduction in the fares, when an opportunity -offered itself for a steerage passage in a vessel bound -for Liverpool. In that way, they would be conveyed -to England for the sum of twenty-four dollars. But -such a passage! Think of it, ye disconsolate, fault-finding -tourists, who lie in the soft beds of a steamer, -with fresh air and plenty of light! Think of it, ye -sufferers that occupy the great forward hall of a -steamship, and who curse your fate that you are -compelled to take a steerage passage! What would -you do or say should you be crowded into a cabin of -rough planks, eight feet long, and seven feet wide, -with nine passengers and eight narrow berths, in a -clumsy, dirty little sailing vessel? Yet this was the -young adventurer’s choice, rather than expend the -small sum of twenty-five dollars from his small store. -These three boys were compelled, by the terms of -passage, to furnish their own provisions and bedding, -and the fact that the unexpected honesty and kindness -of a warehouse clerk prevented their starting off without -enough food to last through the voyage, is another -proof that “fortune favors the brave.”</p> - -<p>As there was one more adult passenger in the -steerage than there were berths, Bayard and his cousin -Frank good-naturedly agreed to occupy one together. -To the writer, who has frequently crossed the treacherous -Atlantic, there seems to be no experience so inconceivably -miserable and sickening as a steerage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> -passage in a sailing vessel must be to the landsman. -But when to the usual discomforts of dampness, darkness, -sea-sickness, and strange company, are added -the cramps caused by being packed with another -passenger like a sandwich into a narrow box, and the -absence of fresh air, no tortures of the Inquisition -would seem to equal it. Bayard often referred to his -first discouraging sensation of sea-sickness. Coming, as -it always does to the passenger, just as he is taking his -last sad look at the fading shores of his native country, -it is always a disheartening experience. Bayard shed -tears as he began to realize that he was actually afloat -upon the wide ocean, and could not if he would -return to the land. He has since well said, that had -he known more of life, and the dangers of travel, -his alarm and discouragement would have been much -greater than they were, and of longer duration. -Youth borrows no trouble; hence it is happy and -victorious.</p> - -<p>Of that voyage, and its sufferings, in the ship -“Oxford,” beginning on the first day of July, and -ending at Liverpool on the twenty-ninth of the same -month, he made but brief mention; yet his experience -in getting the ship’s cook to boil their potatoes, in -eating their meals of pilot-bread, and in the company of -their English, Scotch, Irish, and German cabin-mates, -was most charmingly told in his letters to the “Gazette” -and to the “Post,” as well as in “Views Afoot,” to -which reference has already been made. His German<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -companion was not only a social advantage, but furnished -the adventurous youths with a pleasant opportunity -to get some of the German phrases, and to hear -descriptions of the country they were to visit. They -were also favored by the captain’s permission to use -books from the cabin library, which contained several -entertaining books of travel and of fiction. The closing -days of the voyage appear to have been pleasant in -some respects, for the beauty of the sea made a lasting -impression upon his mind, and might possibly have -been still in his memory when he wrote the lines in his -“Poems of Home and Travel,” running thus:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“The sea is a jovial comrade,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">He laughs wherever he goes;</div> -<div class="verse">His merriment shines in the dimpling lines</div> -<div class="verse indent1">That-wrinkle his hale repose:</div> -<div class="verse">He lays himself down at the feet of the Sun,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">And shakes all over with glee,</div> -<div class="verse">And the broad-backed billows fall faint on the shore</div> -<div class="verse indent1">In the mirth of the mighty Sea.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>It may be that the beauty and joy of the sea appeared -more remarkable because of the great contrast -between its free and wild life, and the crowded and -stifled existence of the mortals who witnessed its gambols. -At all events he was not so delighted with the -sea that he could not shout with the others, when the -dark outlines of Ireland’s mountains appeared through -the mist. The sleepless nights, the company of howling -Iowa Indians, the musty cabin, the terrible nausea—all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -were forgotten in the sight of land, and as the goal -grew nearer, the more like a dream became all the -disagreeable experiences of the voyage, until when, -after tacking from northern Ireland to Scotland, from -Scotland to Ireland, and from Ireland to the Isle of -Man, they sailed up the Mersey to Liverpool, the inconveniences -of the voyage had wholly faded out, and -only the few agreeable incidents remained a reality. -They passed the dreaded officials of the custom-house -without difficulty, and by the advice of a “wild Englishman,” -who was one of their travelling companions, -they went to the Chorley Tavern, and there enjoyed a -bountiful dinner, as only passengers by sea can enjoy -them when first they step on shore. Bayard was impressed -by the sombre appearance of the city, and -amused by the use of the middle of the streets for sidewalks, -and by the pink each man carried in his buttonhole.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>Departure from Liverpool.—Travels Second-Class.—Arrival at Port -Rush.—The Giant’s Causeway.—Lost and in Danger.—Dunluce -Castle.—Effect upon the Travellers.—Condition of the -Irish.—Arrival at Dumbarton.—Scaling the Castle Walls.—Walk -to Loch Lomond.—Ascent of Ben Lomond.—Loch -Katrine.—Visit to Stirling.</p> - -</div> - -<p>Bayard and his companions, including the German -student, with whom there had sprung up an intimate -friendship, left Liverpool on the same day on which -they arrived there, having found that they would reach -Scotland <i lang="la">via</i> the Giant’s Causeway, as soon as they -could by waiting for the more direct line. With an -exercise of common-sense, such as characterizes too -few Americans in this day of fashionable travel, they -took passage second-class, finding themselves in no -way the worse for the temporary inconvenience, while -their fare was but one-sixth the amount of a first-class -passage. It was not a comfortable night’s voyage on -the way from Liverpool to Port Rush, in the north of -Ireland, starting at ten o’clock in the evening, and -arriving at eleven o’clock the next night. It may -be that the cold and wet, the crowd of Irish passengers, -the unvaried diet of bread and cheese, served the -purpose of making the shores and bluffs more attractive,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> -as the mind naturally seeks and usually obtains some -comfort and recreation in the most doleful surroundings. -It is a glorious thing to look upon those basaltic -hexagons of the Giant’s Causeway, under any circumstances. -Those enormous natural columns, set side by -side, so close as to make a floor along their tops, so -strange, so unaccountably symmetrical, fill the soul with -awe, and half persuade the least credulous beholder -that there were giants in the days of yore, and that -they really did build a thoroughfare of these huge -prisms across to Scotland. Any traveller contemplates -those matchless piles with surprise, and every -sojourner is delighted beyond estimation by the contour -and echoes of the vast caverns, into which the -ocean rolls with such enchanting combinations of sound -and motion. But to young men who had seen but -little of the world and its natural wonders, and who -had suffered a kind of martyrdom for the sake of visiting -them, those resounding caverns, and those mighty -ruins of gigantic natural temples, must have been -inspiring beyond measure. Every traveller recalls -with the most clear and grateful remembrance, the first -landscapes of Europe, on which rest his ocean-weary -eyes. To these young men the landscapes were about -their only joy, and they appreciated them accordingly. -Bayard seems to have been very enthusiastic. He -scrutinized everything and questioned everybody. He -let nothing pass him unnoticed, although in his books -he left much unmentioned. He clambered into the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -lofty recesses of the Causeway, and let himself down -into the strange niches. He halloed in the caves for -the thundering echoes; he drank three times at the -magical Giant’s Well. He strayed from the highway -that led from Port Rush to the Causeway, to look into -the weird nooks which the sea has carved in the -mutable shore. Dunluce Castle, with its broken walls -and ghastly towers—home of proud Lord Antrim—and -home as well of that family’s terrible banshee, was -the first old ruin which Bayard visited. It stands on -the verge of the cragged cliffs, with the sea beating -about its base, and bellowing in the cavern under it. -It is located near the highway which leads from Port -Rush to the Causeway. Across the narrow footway, -and into these ruins, Bayard rushed most eagerly. -The same old man who now shows travellers the battlements, -and tells to wondering hundreds the tales of -tournament and banqueting-hall, was there then, and -rehearsed the tale to him. The boy is gone. But -the old man, whom Bayard mentions as an old man -then, lives on in his dull routine, yet living less in a -half century than Bayard lived in a single year.</p> - -<p>All this was fresh and glorious to the youth, and -gave him a very pleasant foretaste of the rich experiences -in store for him. But, as if the fates conspired -to chill his intellectual joys with physical discomforts, -a rain came pouring upon them as they returned, the -wind blew in fierce gusts, darkness, deep and black, -settled upon the land; they lost their way, and floundered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -about in muddy ravines, and barely escaped -destruction as they trod the edges of the precipices -above the wildest of seas. They became separated -from each other, and the howling of winds and waves -among the crags was so hideous that they could not -for a long time hear each other’s call, and the worst of -fears for each other were added to their own dismay. -But they somehow blundered upon the path as it -emerged from the wild rocks, and together walked -the beach to their hotel, soaking and half frozen. -But all those trying experiences fade when the skin is -dry, and the sweet sleep of healthy youth comes with -its comforting oblivion; only the gorgeous landscapes, -and the romantic places, like the memories of boyhood, -remain to shape the dreams.</p> - -<p>Bayard was shocked by the miserable condition of -the Irish peasantry, and his description of their huts, -and their appearance, given in his letters, shows great -sympathy for their distress, and great disgust at their -degraded customs. On his way to Greenock from -Port Rush, he fell in with a company of them, who -chanced to take the same steamer, and he did not -enjoy their drunken and beastly songs and riots. But -on his trip from Greenock, up the Clyde to Dumbarton, -he had more acceptable companionship, and in -his book he refers, with a most touching simplicity, to -the music of a strolling musician on board the boat, -who played “Hail Columbia” and “Home, Sweet -Home.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> - -<p>Old Scotland! Noble old hills! Charming lakes, -and enchanting valleys! How like the awakened -memories of loved faces, they come back to us when -we hear the word “Dumbarton”! What exciting tales -of Baliol, of Wallace, of Bruce, of Queen Mary, of -Cromwell, come again as we recall the sugar-loaf -rock, on which the remnant of the old fortress stands! -Those bright youths must have feasted on the associations -connected with Dumbarton. As they peered -from Wallace’s tower, handled Wallace’s sword, and -gazed over the wide landscape, with the sites of -battle-fields, castles, palaces, the home of Bruce, the -cottage of Wallace, the beautiful valleys of the Clyde -and Leven, the majestic Ben Lomond, and the crests -of the Highlands, they grew in intellectual stature, -and breathed a moral atmosphere as pure as the air -that encircled the flagstaff at the summit. There is -no education like the actual contact with the scenes -connected with heroic self-sacrifice, to train young -men for patriots and poets. No discipline is more -necessary to the development of a broad and virtuous -manhood among any class of young men, than studious -travel in foreign countries. To young Bayard, lacking -other culture than the few years at the district school, -the few months at the academy, and the studious -perusal of histories and poems, this experience was -of vast importance. Its beneficial effects were seen -throughout his life, and frequently show themselves -in his editorials, poems, novels, and narratives.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> - -<p>At Dumbarton, Bayard had his first narrow escape, -and he said that when he reached the ground, after daring -to scale, for flowers, the precipice up which Wallace -climbed with his followers for glory and fatherland, he -was in such a tremor of terror, in view of his having -so narrowly escaped death, that he could scarcely -speak. The unusual strength of a little tuft of wild -grass, growing in a crevice of the cliff, had saved him -from being dashed to pieces. It must have given him -a very vivid impression of the daring feats of those old -Scotch warriors, who not only faced these perpendicular -walls, but fearlessly encountered the foes at the top.</p> - -<p>From Dumbarton, Bayard and his friends walked -through the valley of the River Leven to Loch -Lomond. All his letters and contributions to the -newspapers speak of this walk as one of the most -enjoyable of all his rambles. In his “Views Afoot,” -with which every reader is or should be familiar, he -mentions it as a glorious walk. The pastoral beauty -of the fields, the clearness of the stream, the ivy-grown -towers, the dense forests, the early home of -Smollett, whose dashing pen astonished the kingdom -in 1748, the summer parks of Scottish noblemen, the -mild, soothing August sunshine, were a combination -rarely found, and when found as rarely appreciated.</p> - -<p>These young travellers had been diligent readers, -and, when the steamer hurried them over the lake, -the appearance of Ben Lomond and Ben Voirlich, of -“Bull’s Rock,” and Rob Roy’s Cave, of Inversnaid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -and Glen Falloch, called up the shades of the Campbells, -Macgregors, Malcolms, Rothesays, Macfarlanes, -Macphersons; making each beach and rock along -Loch Lomond a feature of romantic interest.</p> - -<p>With youthful enthusiasm, Bayard clambered to the -rugged top of Ben Lomond, having waded through -deep morass and thorny thicket, to reach it, and, from -that lookout, gazed around on the peaks of lesser -mountains, down upon the sweet Lomond lake, away -to the oceans on either side of Scotland, discerning -the smoke over Glasgow, the dark plains of Ayr, -and, but for a mist, the embattled towers of Stirling -and Edinburgh. After a short stop, he descended -with his old companions, and a new one (he was constantly -finding new friends), along the slippery, stony -slopes; and, after a dinner of oatmeal cakes and milk -at a cottage near the base, trudged and waded on -through that wild tract of woodland and swamp to -Loch Katrine. There was the home of poetry. The -great forests, through which the Clan-Alpine horns had -echoed, the dense forest, through which the scarfs and -bows did gleam in the old days of the Highland clans, -had disappeared. The blossoming heather and bare -rocks made a sorry substitute. But to Bayard, -whose life was set to poetry, who had so often studied -and declaimed of Fitz-James and Roderick Dhu, and -who had often dreamed of the Ellen’s Isle, and the -gathering clans, as Walter Scott described them, it -must have been an enchanted spot. One may recite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> -and analyze for half a century that poem, and may flatter -himself that he has detected all its beauty, and understands -all its historic references; but one hour on -Loch Katrine is worth more than all that. There the -reader <em>lives</em> the poem, and it is a part of his being -ever more. Bayard felt compensated there for all the -sufferings, by sea and by land, which he had experienced. -He gazed fondly upon the glassy, land-locked water; -he studied closely the features, manners, and songs of -the Highland boatmen, those descendants of the old -clans; he sketched, with the keenest interest, Ben -Ann, Ben Venue, the gate of the Trosachs, and the -curved lines of the sandy shore, and he awoke the -echoes at the Goblin’s Gave and Beal-nam-bo. Rich -experiences! In such does the youth develop fast into -a cultured manhood.</p> - -<p>From Loch Katrine, the party walked by way of -Loch Vennachar, Coilantogle Ford, and Ben Ledi, to -Doune,—the home of royalty during the sixteenth -century, and whose old castle is still a majestic ruin. -Thence through the plains to Stirling Castle, crowned -and battle-honored, and looking down on the valleys -of the Forth and Allan Water, and out upon the -bloody fields of Bannockburn and Sheriff-muir. -Having inspected the dungeons and halls of the -castle, looked with horror upon the spot where -royalty murdered a friend, and threw the body to the -dogs; and after contemplating the grave of the girlish -martyrs, they hastily took the shortest route to Glasgow,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -and thence to the home of Burns, where a great -celebration, or memorial gathering, was to be held, to -honor the memory of the “rustic bard,” on the banks -of his own “Bonnie Doon.”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>Visit to the Home of Burns.—The Poet’s Cottage.—The Celebration.—Walks -and Rides in the Rain.—Edinburgh.—Its -Associations.—The Teachings of History.—Home of Drummond.—Abbotsford.—Melrose.—Jedburgh -Abbey.—Newcastle-on-Tyne.</p> - -</div> - -<p>Bayard’s visit to Ayr was the first of a long series -of like visitations to the homes of celebrated poets, and -being then a novel experience was doubly enjoyed. It -may be that the similar occupation, and like inspiration, -which characterized both himself and Burns, made the -spot more attractive. Had they not both followed the -plough through the thick sward? Had not both milked -the cows; drove the horses to the water; planted the -corn; dug up the weeds; cut the hay, and all the -while sang and recited original verses? Had he not -been ridiculed by his playmates, and sneered at by his -neighbors, in common with that great poet of Scotland? -To look over the farm on which Burns toiled; to be -shown the spot on which it is claimed Burns overturned—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“That wee bit heap o’ leaves and stibble,”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">the home of the “mousie,” and to be shown the -cottage he was born in, and the scenes which inspired<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -his songs, interesting as they are to the writer -of prose, must have been peculiarly satisfactory to -him. He does not speak of it, however, with the -enthusiasm one would expect, and it is quite probable -that he was not yet wholly inured to the inconveniences -of a wet climate, and could not think or -muse in a crowd as satisfactorily as when dry and alone. -When he arrived in the town, the streets were filled -by an immense throng, and there could have been little -satisfaction in trying to fall into poetical dreams. It -is a great satisfaction to those of Bayard’s friends who -have loved him, and put their faith in him, to know -that he put himself on record in some of his early letters, -in no light terms, as having an unutterable -disgust for the drunken brawling which went on in the -name of Burns that day in Ayr. He felt, with great -keenness, the disgrace which every American feels that -it is to Scotland, that the old cottage, so sacred for its -associations as the birthplace of Burns, should be -occupied as a drinking-saloon, and be crowded with -intoxicated vagabonds. It seemed like making a dog-kennel -of a chapel in St. Paul’s. Anything but genius, -intellect, or wit characterizes the crowd that usually -frequent Burns’ Cottage on such days; and it is said to -have been, in 1844, the resort of a more beastly class -than are those wretches who get intoxicated there now, -and, naturally, on such a great day as that on which -Bayard visited it, every Scotsman who indulged at all -became furiously drunk. Besides that inconvenience,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -the trustees of the monument, on the day when so -many thousands came to see it and its treasures, voted -to lock it up; and Bayard, with the others, was shut -out from its interesting collection of relics and mementoes. -Still further, it was so arranged by the marshals -of the occasion, that the grand stand, with its literary -feast and the ceremonies appurtenant to the occasion, -were shut out from the populace to whom the poet -sang, and Bayard being only a strange boy, with no -more of a title than Robert Burns had, was obliged to -content himself with a seat on the ridge of the “brig -o’ Doon.” He did see old Alloway kirk, and heard -its bell. He saw within its ruined walls the rank -weeds, and without, the graves of the poet’s ancestry. -He did have a cheerful pedestrian tour; for the home -of Burns, with Alloway kirk and the bonnie Doon, are -three miles from the city of Ayr in open country. -He saw the sister and sons of the poet. He heard the -assembled thousands sing, “Ye banks and braes’ o’ -bonnie Doon.” He saw a grandson of Tam O’Shanter. -He had to walk the three miles, returning through -mud and rain, and he had to stand in an open car, -exposed to a driving rain-storm, throughout the two -hours’ ride by railroad to Glasgow. How different his -reception then, as a boy and unknown, from that which -he received in his riper age, after his fame was secured, -at the home of Germany’s greatest poet.</p> - -<p>We follow Bayard in his first tour in Europe with -greater detail than we shall do with other journeys,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -because in this he developed so much of that character -which made him famous. History being written, not -for the dead, but for the instruction and encouragement -of the living, should show clearly how a great life -was attained, as a guide for similar genius in the days -to come. In a volume of hasty sketches like this, we -cannot hope to do the work as thoroughly as we should -so much love to do it; but as far as can be done at -this early day, we give those events which had the -greatest effect upon his life as a writer of prose and -poetry.</p> - -<p>He must have feasted in Edinburgh. Richest storehouse -in Scotland, for all such as follow letters! There -was the monument to Scott, suggestive of the most -beautiful in art, but so insignificant as a reminder of -him, while the walls of Salisbury Crags, and the dome -of Arthur’s Seat, frown beyond and above it. There -was Holyrood Palace, with its stains of blood, the -couch of the beautiful queen, and the collections of -historical relics. No place but the Tower of London -has received such attention from gifted and famous literary -men. Historians, poets, philosophers, educators, -preachers, and lawyers have written and discoursed -upon it. There was Calton Hill, with its monuments -to great men. There was the great University, and -there was the old Castle, that sat like a crown on the -head of the city. All had been described by the most -facile pens. All were full of living interest, and when -Bayard tried to describe them, he found himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -attempting to compete with the greatest essayists of -the English-speaking world. The Grass Market, where -Porteous was executed; Cowgate Street, with its aristocratic -associations; St. Giles’ Church, with its memories -of John Knox and the Heart of Mid-Lothian, were -described by him, about which it is a kind of literary -sacrilege to speak in other than classic language. It -was a school that included every other, and Bayard -was an apt and diligent scholar.</p> - -<p>A short distance from Edinburgh, the pedestrians -saw the birthplace and hermitage of Drummond. It -is a delightful, sequestered chateau, called “Hawthornden,” -and in it the poet wrote nearly all his -elegant sonnets, and it was there that old Ben Jonson, -after a walk from London, was entertained by -Drummond, and Drummond was in turn entertained -by Jonson. Going by the way of Galashiels and -Selkirk, the party visited Abbotsford and its environs, -where the immortal Scott lived and wrote. In the -beautiful mansion which Scott built, and in which he -wrote his most popular works, they read his manuscripts; -sat at his desk; wandered in his gardens; -gazed intently over the wide lawn and the distant -Tweed; scrutinized the enormous variety of relics -which had been collected by that antiquarian, to whom -kings and queens were glad to become tributary. -Thence they walked along the hard and smooth highway -to old Melrose.</p> - -<p>Ruins they would see in the near England, and on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -the distant continent, which would enclose a dozen -abbeys such as this; Gothic arches they would enter -which would make those of Melrose seem as a toy; and -ivy and carving and chancels would be noticed, so -much more rich and beautiful, that these would suffer -sadly if put in comparison. But nowhere else in all -the wide world would they find a locality made more -interesting than this. The associations are almost -everything. And to the initiated, the great magician, -Scott, still speaks in the groined arches, flowering pillars, -old clock, and willow-like windows. Melrose -Abbey is a marked illustration of the power of a -master-mind to give influence, life, and interest to -inanimate things. Bayard felt this truth and mentioned -it. He read “The Lay of the Last Minstrel” in -the shadow of the arches, and imagined how the ruins -glowed when the grave of the wizard opened and the -book was revealed. Who knows but it was there, in the -presence of those stirring associations, that he first conceived -the plan which led him to make classic in poetry -and fiction the fields, hills, and Quakers of his native -county. Had he lived ten years longer than he did, -his loved Kennett might have been as classic in song -and story as Abbotsford itself.</p> - -<p>From Melrose the young pedestrians walked to Jedburgh, -omitting the delightful excursion to Dryburgh, -but passing the home of Pringle, who had been the -founder of “Blackwood’s Magazine,” and who had -been also a poet and wanderer like Bayard. While<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> -passing the Cheviot Hills, the party met an excursionist -in a carriage, fast asleep, which appeared to amuse -Bayard very much. Probably he afterwards saw more -amusing scenes than that, wherein travellers did not -appreciate their privileges. The writer, as late as the -summer of 1878, saw an American who had worked -most industriously to lay up the funds to visit Switzerland, -ride up the entire ascent of the glorious Alps at -St. Gothard, on the top of a coach, fast asleep. Such -marvels does the world of humanity contain. Bayard -did not sleep when anything of interest called upon -him for investigation, nor when the beauties of nature -were to be enjoyed. They crossed the border between -Scotland and England, over the battle-fields of the -Percys, and by streams that were often, in days past, -actually swollen with blood. There, “Marmion,” with -all its tales historical, and legends mythical, was quoted -and <em>lived</em> as only the cultured traveller can live it. -There was instruction in every scene, every stranger, -and every inn. How well Bayard availed himself of -their lessons, is illustrated in all his excellent letters -on foreign travel, and in his books compiled from them. -At Newcastle he noticed a group of miners begging in -the streets, and when he heard how they had struck -for higher wages, because they could not longer exist -on the pittance allowed them, and how they and their -families were turned out upon the streets to starve, his -indignation was very great, and in his book he utters a -prophecy that soon that murmur from the oppressed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -people would increase to a roar, and be heard “by the -dull ears of power.” From Newcastle he went by boat -to London, reaching that city in the early morning near -the end of August.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>Visit in London.—Exhibition of Relics.—The Lessons of Travel.—Historical -Association.—London to Ostend.—The Cathedral -at Aix-la-Chapelle.—The Great Cathedral at Cologne.—Voyage -up the Rhine.—Longfellow’s “Hyperion.”—Visit to -Frankfort.—Kind Friends.—Reaches Heidelberg.—Climbing -the Mountains.</p> - -</div> - -<p>London is a world in itself, as has often been written -and, to such an impressible mind as that of -Bayard, was a place, replete with pleasure and instruction. -London instructs by two methods; one by -agreeable, and the other by disagreeable examples. -Bayard was equally taught by both. There was Westminster -Abbey, with its numberless tombs of the talented -and noble; and there was the Tower of London, -with its dungeons and beheading blocks. There were -the palatial residences of the West End, and there the -hovels and holes of the Wych Street district. There -were the great mercantile houses of Holborn and Regent -Street, and there were the gambling dens of Drury -Lane. There were the magnificent galleries of art, at -the Museum, at the Palaces, at Westminster, and at -Kensington; and there were the dirty, slimy exhibitions -of marred humanity along the wharves of the Thames. -There were the zoölogical wonders of the parks, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> -there were the dog-shows, and cock-pits of the St. -Giles Rookery. There was the palace of the Queen, -and there the Old Bailey. There was the office -of the “Thunderer” (Daily Times), and there were -the attics from whence flowed the vilest trash that -man ever printed. There were Hyde Park, Regent’s -Park, St. James Park, and the broad squares; and -there were the filthy alleys and narrow lanes about -London Bridge. There were the Rothschilds, and -there the poor Micawbers and deserted Nicholas -Nicklebys. The richest, the poorest, the best, the -worst; the most cultivated, and the most ignorant; -the most powerful monarch, and the most degraded -fishmongers. Extremes! Extremes that meet in -everything there. They all instruct by teaching the -beholder what he ought to be, and what he ought not -to be. One sees much in London that ought not to -have been; and, strange to relate, many of the relics -connected with such things, are exhibited with great -pride. If there is any one thing above all others, for -which the American should be thankful, it is for the -fact that the dungeon, the rack, the wheel, the thumbscrew, -the guillotine, the gibbet, the headsman’s block, -the deadly hates of royalty, the cruelty of kings, and -the jealousy of queens, have no place in the history -of the Republic of the West. Yet there, somehow, -the officials and guides who open to the public the -records of the past and show visitors their institutions, -give the most prominent places to deeds of horrid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -cruelty and shameless murders, as if they took pride -in such fearful annals. It would seem as if, had our -rulers butchered in cold blood their sons and daughters; -had they cruelly starved their friends and relatives, -we in America would be ashamed of it. It would be -regarded as very natural here, if an ancestor was hung -and quartered and his head carried about on a pole, -to speak of it as seldom as possible. It would appear -consistent if, had our national government oppressed -the weak, degraded the poor, killed inoffensive captives, -and, for selfish ambition, laid waste the cities -and fields of an innocent people, we should attempt -to bury the remembrance of those deeds so deep as to -make a resurrection impossible. But there, in Europe, -they appear to revel in the hideous doings of their -ancestors, and will show you where human heads or -bands were exhibited, and where noble men and -women were persecuted to martyrdom, with the air -of the circus manager who announces the clown. -Who can hear the guide on London Bridge, “Here -was posted the bleeding head of Sir William Wallace, -the Scotch warrior and patriot, while the quarters of -his body were at Stirling, Berwick, Perth, and Newcastle,” -and not curse, with the deepest feeling, the -people who murdered one of the greatest and best of -men?</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus2"> -<img src="images/illus2.jpg" width="700" height="410" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">TOWER OF LONDON.</p> -</div> - -<p>It is clear that these things made a strong impression -upon Bayard, for we find him more frequently and -more decidedly praising his own land, as he saw more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> -and more of Europe. He saw, also, many of the -advantages which European nations enjoy in art, -literature, and commerce, and failed not to suggest -them to his readers. But, unlike those shallow tourists, -who would ape European manners, and think -all European institutions should be at once imported -here, his patriotic regard for the institutions and people -of his own land, increased with the desire to -benefit them. How reverently he speaks of George -Washington; how touchingly does he speak with the -European peasants who accost him, of the home of -the free beyond the great ocean.</p> - -<p>A whole week those young men searched the great -city for valuable information. They slept and ate in -the rudest of taverns, and tramped the city with the -workmen and the beggars, but they were gathering -the forces for a useful life. Bayard was filled with the -sublimity of the mighty human torrent that, like a -tide, rolls into London in the morning, dashes about -the highways during the day, and surges outward at -night. He felt the grandeur of St. Paul’s, the conflicting -and exciting associations of Westminster, the -marvellous feat of tunnelling under the Thames, the -enormous wealth of churches, monuments, halls, and -galleries, and carried away with him to the Continent -a very complete idea of the institutions and the queer -customs of the great metropolis.</p> - -<p>From London, the party proceeded to Dover, and -from thence to Ostend and Bruges. They travelled in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -the cheapest manner, walking wherever practicable, and -going from Bruges to Ghent in a canal-boat, thence by -railroad across the border to Aix-la-Chapelle. Here -was another treat. The description which he gave in -his letters of his visit to the old Cathedral, where rest -the remains of Charlemagne, was one of the most -vivid recitals to be found in the annals of travel. For -some reason, he so abridged it in his book, as to take -away the finest and most original delineations. Every -reader of his first narration, who may never have -visited Aix-la-Chapelle, can in imagination see the old -Cathedral, with its shrines, its antique windows, and -the shadows of saints on the floor, and hear the sweet -undulations of the organ’s solemn peal. While to the -traveller who follows him through those aisles, and -under those magnificent arches, his words give life and -language to the pillars, altars, and luminous decorations. -To the least poetic or sentimental of travellers, -it is a solemn place; and if so to them, how deep and -impressive must it have been to a soul so full of emotion -as that of Bayard! There he wrote his well-known -poem, “The Tomb of Charlemagne.”</p> - -<p>This grand old pile was succeeded next day by the -great Gothic Cathedral, at Cologne, which was not -then finished, is not now completed, and will never see -the end of the mason’s labors, because the time taken -in the construction is so long that the very stone decays, -and must be replaced at the base by the time the delicate -tracery of the towers is set on those skyward<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> -heights. The structure must be constantly in process -of reconstruction, from the bottom, upwards. When -Bayard looked upon this wonderful building, which -since 1248 had been in an uncompleted state, two -hundred and fifty years having been spent in active -labor, he said it impressed him most deeply, by way of -comparison. Two hundred and forty years before -America was discovered, the foundations of that -church were laid, and here they are working on it -still! By such lessons is an American made to know -his place in the history of the world. Had the history -of these old lands been less barbarous and cruel, -we should feel humble indeed. But in view of what -the old folks have done, we may be thankful that we -are young, and have our record yet to write. But the -fact that we are not so old, so great, so artistic, or so -cultured as we have flattered ourselves, is wholesome -information, and as taught by these old Cathedrals of -Europe, is very necessary to the success of our young -men. How deeply these things moved Bayard, is seen -by the very frequent mention we find in his writings, -of aisle, or arch, or dome, or spire.</p> - -<p>But one of the most attractive spots to that young -voyager, in all his wanderings in Europe, he saw while -going up the Rhine, from Cologne to Mayence. He -viewed with satisfaction the vineyards and villages -along the banks; he was charmed with the crags and -crumbling towers of the innumerable old castles which -ornament the tops of all the most prominent hills and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -mountains. The walled cities, the legendary caves -and grottos, the most exquisite fables that account for -the miraculous construction of cliff, and convent, and -crusaders’ halls, all came upon him as he glided by -them on the muddy river, as dreams come to the -drinker of hashish. But beyond all these in interest -to our young wanderer, was the little walled town of -Boppart, whose feudal history is nearly lost, but whose -romantic connection with Longfellow’s “Hyperion,” has -given it a fresh lease of life. Bayard there recalled -his life at home, and his days of anxious waiting; -for, had not this same “Hyperion,” with entrancing -interest, spurred on his hope to one day travel along -the Rhine? Had not this same “Hyperion” given the -impulse that started his cousin on such a great journey -to the university at Heidelberg? And were not those -houses in the town of Boppart, and was not that -cottage the very Inn of the “Star,” and might not that -woman, near the shore, be “Paul Flemming’s” boatwoman? -Oh! grand and revered Longfellow! when -we note how many a life, like these, has turned upon -the reading of your inspired words, one feels as if to -have seen your face and heard your voice, and to have -been beneath the same roof, was an honor greater than -kings could bestow!</p> - -<p>But Boppart, Lurlei Berg, Oberwisel, Bingen, -and Geisenheim were soon left behind, and Mayence, -with its Cathedral six centuries old, its walls and fortresses, -welcomed them to its monotonous shades.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> - -<p>A beautiful trait of Bayard’s character comes gracefully -into view as we read his grateful acknowledgments -of the kindnesses he received. On his first -walk in his apprentice days, in Pennsylvania, having -determined to see some mountains, although he had to -walk two hundred miles to view them, he was kindly -served at a well, on the way, by a farmer’s girl, who -cheerfully drew the bucket from the well and ran for a -glass, that he, a dusty, thirsty stranger, might drink -without further fatigue; and in his later years he -records the fact in his book, with the sweetest expressions -of thankfulness. So when he arrived at Frankfort, -and was kindly received and entertained by Mr. -Richard S. Willis, the American consul, brother of -Bayard’s old friend, Nathaniel P. Willis, he sits down at -once, and in his letters to his friends, and in his public -correspondence, he speaks of the generosity and -thoughtfulness of his old friend, and the hospitable and -cultured characteristics of his new friend. They were -noble friends, who made for him a home at their fireside -in Frankfort, and deserve the thanks of every admirer -of Bayard Taylor. His thanks they had throughout a -long life, and not only thanks, but grateful deeds.</p> - -<p>It was Bayard’s purpose to go to Heidelberg, with -his cousin, and give himself to close study, at the -University, or with private tutors; but just how he -was going to obtain the means to pay his expenses was -something of an enigma. It may be that his good -fortune in the outset made him too confident and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -careless in regard to other undertakings. At all -events, his stay in Heidelberg was much shorter than -he had at first intended that it should be, and his studies -were much more broken and superficial than his letters -show he thought they would be. He was not constituted -for close, hard, metaphysical study, and made -but little attempts in that direction, after he arrived at -Heidelberg. He loved the grand old Castle better -than the whittled benches of the University. He enjoyed -the Kaisersthul and the lesser mountains, far -more than the monotonous recital of German theories. -The river Neckar called him in its murmurs, the clouds -beckoned to him as they flew over the Heligen Berg, -the wind called for him as it sighed around the vineyards -of Ziegelhausen, and all thoughts of private, -quiet study fled at the summons. So he climbed the -mountains. It was always a passion with him to gain -an altitude as high as possible, and look out upon the -world. He tells how, when a boy, he ventured out of -a chamber window in the old farm-house at Kennett, -and seeing a row of slats which the carpenters had -used for steps in ascending the roof, he sallied forth, -and there astride of the roof, gained his first view of a -landscape. He said afterward, that the roof appeared -to be so high and the view so extensive, that he imagined -he could see Niagara Falls. Whether this -inclination to climb up came to him through the stories -of his old Swiss nurse, whose bed-time stories were of -the mighty Alps and their towering cones, or whether<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -it was an hereditary trait in his nature, none may be -able to decide. He was certainly prone to go upwards, -and had a tendency, for horizontal motion equally as -strong. He would not remain stationary; hence, at -Heidelberg, he inspected every nook and crevice of the -picturesque old Castle, crouched through its conduits, -rapped its ponderous tun, scaled its roofless and crumbling -walls, rushed into the recesses of the adjacent -thickets, and tested the celebrated beer at the students’ -resorts. He joined excursion parties which visited -the neighboring mountains, and after he had been -there a month, he knew the fields, rocks, trees, valleys, -dells, and peaks, as well as a native, and appears -to have loved them with a patriotic regard almost equal -to the eldest burgher.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>Study in Frankfort.—Lack of Money.—Different Effect of Want -on Travellers.—Bayard’s Privations.—Again sets out on Foot.—Visit -to the Hartz Mountains.—The Brocken.—Scenes in -“Faust.”—Locality in Literature.—The Battle-field at Leipsic.—Auerbach’s -Cellar.</p> - -</div> - -<p>For the purposes of this work, an outline of Bayard’s -travels is all that can be attempted; except where some -remarkable incident occurred that had an unusual influence -on his subsequent life. Leaving Heidelberg in -the latter part of October (1844), Bayard walked -through the Odenwald to Frankfort, where he could -pursue his study of the German language, and observe -the customs and characteristics of the people to better -advantage and at a less expense. In attempting to see -Europe on such a limited allowance of money, he -necessarily met with many inconveniences and privations. -His sufferings were at times most intense. He -knew what it was to fast for whole days; he felt the -pains of blistered bare feet. He was exposed to the -severest storms of summer and winter; he was familiar -with the homes of beggary and the hard, swarming -beds of third-class taverns. He must have suffered -beyond his own estimate, for, as he so well says, the -pains of travel are soon forgotten and the pleasures<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -vividly remembered. There was a youthful <em>abandon</em> -in his almost reckless adventures which startles the -reader of his tours. But yet the pains he felt so -keenly, the dangers he encountered so frequently, did -not seem to abate his enthusiasm for the great works -and beautiful scenes which Europe exhibits. To find -ourselves in a strange city, where no one speaks our -native language; where it is not possible that any -person can know us or any of our friends; without -money, or food, or work, is one of the most disheartening -situations that can be imagined. Yet such -an experience came often to Bayard. It would seem -as if, on some occasions, he ran into such difficulties -needlessly and for very wantonness. Yet, as was -sometimes the experience of the writer, and from one -of which dangerous situations Mr. Taylor generously -rescued him, there somehow opens a way out from -such ventures, which is found on the very verge of -starvation and despair. But the trait of character, -which in Bayard commanded such respect, was something -so unusual, that his daring example cannot be -safely followed by the multitude. It is far better to -have a supply of money for the necessary expenses of -travel in Europe or Asia, than to run risks for the sake -of the romance which Bayard found in such straits. To -many tourists, even the parks of Homburg, the castle -of Drachenfels, or the palace of the Vatican, would -become insignificant baubles before the stronger demands -of the body for food and raiment. But seldom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> -did any fatigue or annoyance or loss, abate his wonderful -zeal in his search for the poetical, the strange, the -historical, and the beautiful. Some of his most exquisite -descriptions of art or nature, were written from -notes made when his stomach was empty and his limbs -chilled with wet and cold. Such young men are few; -and for one with less perseverance, endurance, or -genius to attempt such things on such a scale, would -be to meet with disheartening failure.</p> - -<p>Of his life in Frankfort, during the winter of 1845, -he often speaks with great satisfaction. He made -excellent progress in the language, and in that understanding -of the habits of the people which Mr. Greeley -had so pointedly urged upon him as an ambitious -aspirant for the favors of the “Tribune.” He comes -out of that study a matured thinker. His descriptions -assume a more thoughtful tone. His sympathies are -more often awakened for the people, and he sees as a -man sees, and less juvenile are all his undertakings and -communications. He there acquired a love of German -poetry, and became acquainted with many of the noted -men of Frankfort. He visited the aged Mendelssohn, -and tells with charming simplicity how he was received -by the composer of “St. Paul” and “Elijah.” Thus -introduced to German literature, art, and music, he -entered again upon his travels at the opening of spring, -with new and increasing appreciativeness.</p> - -<p>Again, on foot, he went into the untried way of -Europe. His first attraction was for the Hartz Mountains,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> -so intimately connected with Goethe’s “Faust,” -with which Bayard was already in love, and which -he afterwards translated in a masterly manner. -So he went through Friedberg and Giessen, into -Hesse-Cassel, making the acquaintance of peasants -and merchants on his way, and moralizing upon -the curious circumstance that the descendants of -the Hessians, who fought so doggedly at Brandywine, -should receive so hospitably the descendant -of those who filled the “plains of Trenton with the -short Hessian graves.” Thence by Münden, Göttingen -and Osterode, enduring sickening fatigues and dangerous -exposure, he reached the Brocken mountain, where, -through thickets, rocks, chasms, snow and cold, he at -last rested in a cottage at its summit, amid the associations -awakened by the weird tales of witches and the -superstitious explanations of that singular illusion,—the -“Spectre of the Brocken.” If he had any “wish” -on that “Walpurgis night,” which he passed on the highest -mountain of the Hartz range, it was probably to be -relieved of the tortures which his weak frame endured, -and from which the physician had failed to relieve him. -It would not be surprising if he recited from “Faust” -the words of scene IV.:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Through some familiar tone, retrieving</div> -<div class="verse">My thoughts from torment, led me on,</div> -<div class="verse">And sweet, clear echoes came, deceiving</div> -<div class="verse">A faith bequeathed from childhood’s dawn,</div> -<div class="verse">Yet now I curse whate’er entices</div> -<div class="verse">And snares the soul with visions vain;</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -<div class="verse">With dazzling cheats and dear devices</div> -<div class="verse">Confines it in this cave of pain!</div> -<div class="verse">Cursed be, at once, the high ambition.</div> -<div class="verse">Wherewith the mind itself deludes!</div> -<div class="verse">Cursed be the glare of apparition,</div> -<div class="verse">That on the finer sense intrudes.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>We cannot forbear to add another quotation from -the same Act, so illustrative is it of Bayard’s note-taking -life:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“No need to tell me twice to do it!</div> -<div class="verse">I think, how useful ’tis to write;</div> -<div class="verse">For what one has in black and white,</div> -<div class="verse">One carries home and then goes through it.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>His visit to the Brocken was one of the most fascinating -trips of his whole pedestrian tour, notwithstanding -his narrow escape from death in the snow, -and from destruction by falling into the partially concealed -caves that beset his way to the summit. He -mentioned long afterward the view he had from the -summit-house, through the rifts in the clouds, of the -plains and cities of Germany. Thirty cities and several -hundred villages lay within sight, and all of them -more or less closely interwoven with the literature of -Germany. The plains of Brunswick and Magdeburg -stretch away for seventy miles, with all the various -shadings of green intermingled with the sparkling silver -of stream and lake. It is a scene so grand that no -pen could portray its sublimity and no tongue accurately -convey an idea of its varied beauty. With that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> -romantic persistency which no amount of fatigue overcame, -Bayard descended the mountain by that rugged -and nerve-shaking path up which Faust was said to -have ascended with Mephistopheles (scene XXI. of -Taylor’s translation) who says:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“How sadly rises, incomplete and ruddy,</div> -<div class="verse">The moon’s lone disk, with its belated glow,</div> -<div class="verse">And lights so dimly, that, as one advances,</div> -<div class="verse">At every step one strikes a rock or tree!</div> -<div class="verse">Let us, then, use a Jack-o’-Lantern’s glances:</div> -<div class="verse">I see one yonder, burning merrily.</div> -<div class="verse">Ho, there! my friend! I’ll levy thine attendance:</div> -<div class="verse">Why waste so vainly thy resplendence?</div> -<div class="verse">Be kind enough to light us up the steep.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>After which Faust, in a musing mood, looks down -from the Brocken heights and replies:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“How strangely glimmers through the hollows</div> -<div class="verse">A dreary light, like that of dawn!</div> -<div class="verse">Its exhalation tracks and follows</div> -<div class="verse">The deepest gorges, faint and wan.</div> -<div class="verse">Here steam, there rolling vapor sweepeth;</div> -<div class="verse">Here burns the glow through film and haze:</div> -<div class="verse">Now like a tender thread it creepeth,</div> -<div class="verse">Now like a fountain leaps and plays.</div> -<div class="verse">Here winds away, and in a hundred</div> -<div class="verse">Divided veins the valley braids:</div> -<div class="verse">There in a corner pressed and sundered,</div> -<div class="verse">Itself detaches, spreads and fades.</div> -<div class="verse">Here gush the sparkles incandescent</div> -<div class="verse">Like scattered showers of golden sand;—</div> -<div class="verse">But, see! in all their height at present,</div> -<div class="verse">The rocky ramparts blazing stand.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> - -<p>As Bayard leaped and stumbled down the rocky declivity -into the narrow gorge that there divides the -mountains to give an outlet for the river Bode, the very -difficulties bound him closer to Goethe’s writings. He -felt again how important a thing it is in literature to -connect it by patriotic links with some actual landscape, -and how much more vivid and permanent are -the lessons an author would teach when the reader -visits the mountains, plains, cities, buildings, and people -mentioned in books of classic worth. Thus learning -and growing the young traveller plodded on from -inn to inn and village to village.</p> - -<p>Leipsic, which he reached a day or two after leaving -the Brocken, was a place of great interest to Bayard, -as it is in fact to all travellers. But the interest in any -city or country visited by a tourist depends so much -upon his previous reading, and the taste and opportunities -for reading are so diverse, that it seldom happens -that any two persons in the same party enjoy the same -scene with equal satisfaction. Bayard had read of -Leipsic and Dresden in his boyhood when other boys -were catching rabbits or playing ball, and as when he -sees the great citadel at Magdeburg which once held -Baron Trenck a prisoner, so when at Leipsic he looks -over the field where Blucher and Schwartzenberg met -Napoleon, he is startled with the vividness of the pictures -in his imagination. Hundreds of thousands rushing -to combat and scattering in retreat while smoke rolls<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -upward from hundreds of cannon and the streams are -choked with piles of bloody dead!</p> - -<p>There too was Auerbach’s Cellar, in which Goethe’s -Faust and Mephistopheles are so humorously placed. -There was the same drinking-saloon, there the descendant -of the old bar-keeper, and there the same characteristic -crowd of loafers, as when Faust and Mephistopheles -drank there, and when amid songs and jokes, the -latter drew all kinds of wine from the gimlet holes in -the leaf of the old wooden table. Bayard’s estimate of -the people appears to have confirmed that of Mephistopheles -who says (scene V.):—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Before all else I bring thee hither</div> -<div class="verse">Where boon companions meet together,</div> -<div class="verse">To let thee see how smooth life runs away.</div> -<div class="verse">Here, for the folk, each day’s a holiday:</div> -<div class="verse">With little wit, and ease to suit them,</div> -<div class="verse">They whirl in narrow, circling trails,</div> -<div class="verse">Like kittens playing with their tails:</div> -<div class="verse">And if no headache persecute them,</div> -<div class="verse">So long the host may credit give,</div> -<div class="verse">They merrily and careless live.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The peasantry still crowd the cellar, still sing the -old lays, and each day tell over again the old legend of -Mephistopheles’ miraculous exit.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“I saw him, with these eyes, upon a wine cask riding</div> -<div class="verse">Out of the cellar door, just now.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>Pictures at Dresden.—Raphael’s Madonna.—Bayard’s Art Education.—His -Exalted Ideas of Art.—His Enthusiasm.—Visits -Bohemia.—Stay in Prague.—The Curiosities of Vienna.—Tomb -of Beethoven.—Respect for Religion.—Listens to -Strauss.—View of Lintz.—Munich and its Decorations.—The -Home of Schiller.—Poetic Landscapes, and Charming People.—Statue -by Thorwaldsen.—Walk to Heidelberg.</p> - -</div> - -<p>At Dresden, Bayard visited the picture-gallery, for -the purpose of seeing Raphael’s Madonna and Child, -known as the <i lang="it">Madonna di San Sisto</i>. His description -of that painting, so unfortunately abridged in his book, -was one of the finest examples of art criticism to be -found in print. His appreciation of painting and sculpture -was remarkable, indeed, for one who never made -them a professional study, and whose rude sketches -in pencil in his note books, contained nearly all of his -undertakings as an amateur. His soul seemed cast in -the proper mould for that kind of work, but his hand -was never trained to materialize the pictures that filled -the galleries of his imagination. He had all those -finer sensibilities and acute instincts which fitted him -for art in poetry or stone, and he saw in paintings and -statuary, beauties or defects which thousands of colder -but more studious critics failed to notice.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> - -<p>He spoke of that Madonna at Dresden, as a painting -that moved his whole nature in admiration. He enjoyed -it. He feasted on it. He read it as one follows an -exciting romance. He felt the power of the picture -as Raphael felt it, and seemed to appreciate it even -more keenly than the artist. How much satisfaction -and delight he found in the enormous collections of -art in the Old World, cannot be told or understood by -any one whose natural genius leads them not in such -a direction. His mental appetite for such things grew -so keen, as he went on from city to city and gallery to -gallery, that he much preferred to leave his meals untasted, than -pass a great painting without study. Like -the true artist, his mind took in the grand ideals, and -his respect and admiration for the divine handiwork -in producing man and beast, caused him often to wince -under the suggestive and degrading obtrusiveness of -fig-leaves and rude drapery in sculpture. The human -form in all its heavenly beauty and godlike majesty, -as reproduced in marble by the great artists, was too -sacred and pure to him, to be marred by the suggestions -of sin. No man or woman will ever become an -artist, in its highest, noblest sense, until their love for -beauty, simplicity, and purity, lifts them above the -impressions that are born of ignorance, vulgarity, and -sin. Bayard, in after years, thus beautifully wrote of -sculpture:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse indent3">“In clay the statue stood complete,</div> -<div class="verse indent3">As beautiful a form, and fair,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> -<div class="verse indent3">As ever walked a Roman street</div> -<div class="verse indent3">Or breathed the blue Athenian air:</div> -<div class="verse indent3">The perfect limbs, divinely bare,</div> -<div class="verse indent3">Their old, heroic freedom kept,</div> -<div class="verse indent3">And in the features, fine and rare,</div> -<div class="verse indent3">A calm, immortal sweetness slept.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse indent3">O’er common men it towered, a god,</div> -<div class="verse indent3">And smote their meaner life with shame,</div> -<div class="verse indent3">For while its feet the highway trod,</div> -<div class="verse indent3">Its lifted brow was crowned with flame</div> -<div class="verse indent3">And purified from touch of blame:</div> -<div class="verse indent3">Yet wholly human was the face,</div> -<div class="verse indent3">And over them who saw it came</div> -<div class="verse indent3">The knowledge of their own disgrace.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse indent3">It stood, regardless of the crowd,</div> -<div class="verse indent3">And simply showed what men might be:</div> -<div class="verse indent3">Its solemn beauty disavowed</div> -<div class="verse indent3">The curse of lost humanity.</div> -<div class="verse indent3">Erect and proud, and pure and free,</div> -<div class="verse indent3">It overlooked each loathsome law</div> -<div class="verse indent3">The life, travels, and literary career of Bayard Taylor</div> -<div class="verse indent3">Whereunto others bend the knee,</div> -<div class="verse indent3">And only what was noble saw.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">The blameless spirit of a lofty aim</div> -<div class="verse">Sees not a line that asks to be concealed</div> -<div class="verse">By dextrous evasion; but, revealed</div> -<div class="verse">As truth demands, doth Nature smite with shame</div> -<div class="verse">Them, who with artifice of ivy-leaf</div> -<div class="verse">Unsex the splendid loins, or shrink the frame</div> -<div class="verse">From life’s pure honesty, as shrinks a thief,</div> -<div class="verse">While stands a hero ignorant of blame!</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Each part expressed its nicely measured share,</div> -<div class="verse">In the mysterious being of the whole:</div> -<div class="verse">Not from the eye or lip looked forth the soul,</div> -<div class="verse">But made her habitation everywhere</div> -<div class="verse">Within the bounds of flesh; and Art might steal,</div> -<div class="verse">As once, of old, her purest triumphs there.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> - -<p>This appreciation of the inner feelings of the sculptor -and painter, is the more astonishing, because of the -unusual disadvantages under which he first studied the -works of the ancient masters. Aching limbs, bruised -feet, and an empty stomach are not usually aids to the -critic in forming a judgment of the symmetry or grace -of any work of art. But his enthusiastic recitals of -his visits to the celebrated paintings, show no less -rapture when he saw them in fatigue and hunger, than -when he looked upon them in rest and bodily satiety. -Thus, most naturally, he became the companion and -intimate friend of a large number of the European -artists, and was sought and highly esteemed by all -the American painters and sculptors whom he met in -Europe. He understood them. He sympathized with -their enthusiasm and sacrifices; while a great, cold -world went by them without a comforting word or a -smile of recognition.</p> - -<p>Dresden was like a door to his higher art life, and -its collection of paintings is worthy of such a place. -There were, besides the Sistine Madonna, the “Ascension,” -by Raphael Mengs, the “Notte,” by Correggio, -and galleries of master-pieces by Titian, Da Vinci, -Veronese, Del Sarto, Rubens, Vandyck, Lorraine -and Teniers; with sculpture in marble, ivory, bronze -and jewels, from Michael Angelo and his cotemporaries. -Being the widest and most diversified collection -in Germany, it was eagerly sought by Bayard, and -more reluctantly left behind. More grand than the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> -battle of Napoleon before its gates, and more lasting -in their effects, were the historic works of art which -Dresden is so proud to possess.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus3"> -<img src="images/illus3.jpg" width="700" height="375" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">THE DANUBE AT LINTZ.</p> -</div> - -<p>From Dresden, Bayard walked to Prague, leaving -behind him, as he then thought forever, the cheerful, -hospitable, kind-hearted people, with whose kin he -afterwards became so intimately and advantageously -connected. In Prague, he ascended the heights where -the Bohemian kings and Amazon queens used to reside, -heard the solemn mass in one of Europe’s most -solemn Cathedrals, visited the bridge under which the -Saint Johannes floated with the miraculous stars about -his corpse, lost himself in the bedlam of Jewish clothing-shops, -and then, staff in hand, hastened on over -the monotonous plains, and through the highways -almost fenced with wretchedly painted shrines, to the -Paris of the west, Vienna.</p> - -<p>There again were rare, treasures of art on which he -might study, and in study, increase in that dignity and -expansion of soul which only such contemplation can -give. He was delighted to hear the composer Strauss, -and his orchestra, and amusingly describes the queer -antics of that nervous little musician. He gazed with -awe at the stained banners of the Crusaders, and, with -uncovered head, listened to the grand chants in St. -Stephen’s Cathedral; but his pathetic mention of his -visit to the tomb of Beethoven is the most characteristic.</p> - -<p>There was a most lovable trait in Bayard’s character,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -which became even more prominent in his after years -of travel, which deserves mention in this connection. -He never railed upon the dead, nor ridiculed the religious -belief or acts of devotion of any people, however -ignorant or heathenish. He often mentioned, -with emotion, the efforts of the darkened human mind -to find its Creator and Ruler. He treated with sincerest -respect every act of devotion performed in his -presence, whether by Protestant, Catholic, or Mahomedan. -There was that in his nature, and his early -Quaker education, that not only kept him in the paths -of morality and on the side of virtue, but through -all his writings there runs a thread of faith in God, -which cannot be better expressed than by quoting one -of his own sweet hymns.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“In the peace of hearts at rest,</div> -<div class="verse">In the child at mother’s breast,</div> -<div class="verse">In the lives that now surround us,</div> -<div class="verse">In the deaths that sorely wound us,</div> -<div class="verse">Though we may not understand,</div> -<div class="verse">Father, we behold Thy hand!”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>After leaving Vienna, he went, by the way of Enns -to Lintz, which is situated in one of the most picturesque -landscapes of the Danube. The city is surrounded -by towers unconnected by walls and has a -very romantic history. Bayard in his letters speaks -of the rural scenes about Lintz in terms of the highest -admiration. It was in these Austrian landscapes that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> -he composed that poem entitled “The Wayside Dream,” -and in which we find the following descriptive lines:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“The deep and lordly Danube</div> -<div class="verse">Goes winding far below;</div> -<div class="verse">I see the white-walled hamlets</div> -<div class="verse">Amid his vineyards glow,</div> -<div class="verse">And southward, through the ether, shine</div> -<div class="verse">The Styrian hills of snow.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“O’er many a league of landscape</div> -<div class="verse">Sleeps the warm haze of noon;</div> -<div class="verse">The wooing winds come freighted</div> -<div class="verse">With messages of June,</div> -<div class="verse">And down among the corn and flowers</div> -<div class="verse">I hear the water’s tune.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“The meadow-lark is singing,</div> -<div class="verse">As if it still were morn;</div> -<div class="verse">Within the dark pine-forest</div> -<div class="verse">The hunter winds his horn,</div> -<div class="verse">And the cuckoo’s shy, complaining note</div> -<div class="verse">Mocks the maidens in the corn.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>From Lintz, over hills and by meadows, among the -merry farmers and their light-hearted children, they -walked on, through Salzburg and Hohenlinden, to -Munich, where another magnificent display of paintings, -sculpture, palaces, parks, and historic localities, -rewarded him for his long walk and limited -supply of food. He had so little money that he -was compelled to live on twenty cents a day. There -he found the great works of Thorwaldsen, Cornelius,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -and Schwanthaler, and copies in marble of almost -every celebrated piece of antique sculpture. There -were the gorgeous palaces of kings and dukes, the -beautifully wrought halls and churches, with the -spacious avenues and charming parks. No city in the -world contains such rich decorations, such unique and -profuse ornamentation, or such harmony of design and -arrangement, as is shown in the palace halls and public -edifices of Munich. How a visit to them sweetens -everything else in after life, and how the memory of -them ever lightens the burden of care! What American -could walk those pavements and floors and not -yearn for the power to give to his own country something -to match those marvellous structures! Bayard -must have felt that impulse in common with others; -but, unlike many others, he kept his promise, which -was to awaken a love in every American heart for art -in its grand and stable forms; and many are the -promptings and rebukes which we, as a people, have -received from his pen as writer, and from his lips as a -lecturer.</p> - -<p>From Munich, the route chosen by Bayard lay -through Augsburg, Ulm, and Wurtemberg, and when -he entered the latter country, at Esslingen, he said -the very atmosphere was permeated with poetry. He -was delighted with the green vales, lofty hills, lovely -vineyards, waving forests, and feudal ruins. He was -grateful to the kind people, and was made happy by -their universal cheerfulness and good-nature. It was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> -the home of Schiller! There the first nine years of -the poet’s life were spent, and scarce a nook is there -about the interesting old cities which that boy did not -explore. It was toward Wurtemberg, as his childhood’s -home, Schiller exhibited the greatest regard; -alas, it was there, too, in Stuttgart, that the tyrannical -Duke imprisoned him for publishing his first play. -There, too, the patriotic Uhland sat in the halls of legislation, -and wrote those poems which fired the hearts -of his countrymen to a brave defence of fatherland.</p> - -<p>Bayard’s happy stay in Esslingen, and his word-pictures -of its attractions, show the progress which he -had already made in his love for that German poetry, -of which he was to become so popular an expounder. -He praises the river Neckar and its flowery banks, he -lauds the people, he portrays the landscapes in the -brightest colors which poetry may lend to prose. -Bright day! one he never recalled without exclamations -of pleasure!</p> - -<p>After such interest as he exhibited in the country of -Schiller, it is no surprise, the next day after leaving -Esslingen, to find him in Stuttgart, looking up into -the pensive face of Thorwaldsen’s colossal statue of -Schiller. So attracted and entranced was he by -the interpretation of Schiller, made by the natives, the -scenery, and the old home, that when beautiful Stuttgart -opens its avenues, parks, cathedrals, palaces, and -galleries to him, he forsakes and neglects them all for -this huge but faithfully wrought counterfeit in stone of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> -the persecuted singer. To his naturally sentimental -and sensitive character, the German poet was revealed -in ideals more fascinating than any realities. He -studied the face of his brother poet, praised his beauty, -repeated a broken stanza of “William Tell,” and left -the other attractions of Stuttgart unseen.</p> - -<p>Passing the castle of Ludwigsburg, and skirting the -village of Marbach, the birthplace of Schiller, a village -then about the size of Kennett now, but obliged to -push on for fear of starvation, he walked to Betigheim, -and thence the next day to his first German home, -Heidelberg.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>Starts for Switzerland and Italy.—First View of the Alps.—The -Falls of the Rhine.—Zurich.—A Poet’s Home.—Lake Lucerne.—Goethe’s -Cottage.—Scenes in the Life of William Tell.—Ascent -of the Alps at St. Gothard.—Descent into Italy.—The -Cathedral at Milan.—Bayard’s Characteristics.—Tramp -to Genoa.—Visits Leghorn and Pisa.—Lovely Florence.—Delightful -Visits.—The Home of Art.</p> - -</div> - -<p>August 1, 1845, Bayard again started from Frankfort -on his pedestrian wanderings, having made up his -mind to visit Switzerland, Florence, Venice, Rome, -and perhaps Athens. On this trip his cousin Frank -was again his companion. With their knapsacks on -their shoulders and staffs in hand they began another -pilgrimage, confident and strong. With but a small -supply of money, and with but shadowy probabilities -of more, they launched out into a world to them untried -and unknown. With excited imaginations and -the keenest anticipations they rose above every difficulty -and faced boldly the probabilities of fatigue and -want. They made a short stay at Freiburg and entered -the Black Forest, passing the Titi Lake and the Feldberg -peak. Bayard’s disposition for ascending mountains, -which inclined him to see the top of everything, led -him to go up the cragged side of the Feldberg, from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> -the summit of which he could just make out the white -crests of the Alps. On the nearer approach to them, -and when from the last ranges of the hills of the Black -Forest, they beheld the white Alps in all their indescribable -grandeur looming up at the other side of the -vast plain, Bayard spoke of the patriotic feelings which -such a sight must excite in the mind and heart of a -Swiss returning after a long absence to his native land. -He thought of his old nurse and her tales of the Alpine -scenery, and of the knolls and vales of his own home. -It is no wonder that the Swiss are free and brave and -strong. The waterfalls, cliffs, and cloud-piercing -mountains fill the soul with a sense of grandeur and -glory which tends toward great deeds and fervent -patriotism. Who can recall the eternal snows, the -towering shafts of rock, the roaring caverns, and -sweetest of blue lakes, without the most thrilling emotions! -If there are any travellers upon whom the -memory of Switzerland brings no such feelings, they -are the exceptions. Bayard’s nature was such as to -enjoy to the full, and sometimes with an intensity that -was almost pain, all those sublime exhibitions of the -power and majesty of the great Creator.</p> - -<p>The fall of the Rhine near Schaffhausen hardly met -the expectations of these travellers, who had heard -their German friends speak in such strong terms of -its greatness. It is a most beautiful waterfall, and -when viewed from the platform at the base of the -cliff beneath the castle, startles the spectator with its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -thundering plunges and foaming whirlpools. To a -native of the same land with Niagara, the Yosemite, -and the Yellowstone, its size is insignificant. But its -beauty as a picturesque scene, when the high banks, -the long rapids, the surging pools beneath, and the -jagged rocks that rise through and above the spray -and rainbows, are included in the panorama, can be -described only in the strongest language.</p> - -<p>From Schaffhausen they hurried on by the fields of -the free and happy Swiss farmers, and along highways -that reminded him of his Pennsylvania home, into the -city of Zurich. There he carefully noted the character -and customs of the people. He was cheered by -their friendly greetings, he was surprised at their intelligence, -he was pleased by the happy faces of the -children, and he was proud of the apparent influence -of a republic over its people. He visited the celebrated -poet, Freiligrath, at his villa on the shores of -the lake, where the young American poet and his elder -German brother had a most social talk of Bryant, -Longfellow, and Whittier. From Freiligrath’s exile -home, they walked by the “Devil’s Bridge” to the -Abbey of Einsiedeln, where the crowd of pilgrims and -the sweetest of singers in the church choir made a -pleasant and charming impression upon Bayard’s mind. -Thence by valleys, and mountains, so broken and -grand, and by streams so delicately blue that descended -to the placid Zug, they journeyed to Lake Lucerne. -There, on the shore, in a charming grotto, upon which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> -the Righi and Pilatus look down, while above and beyond -them the white peaks of the loftier Alps shimmer -in the sunshine above the clouds, William Tell, -the father of Swiss liberty, had his home. There, in -an embowered cottage, that peeped from the leaves like -a maiden so coy, resided for a long time the poet -Goethe; and there, according to his own account, he -studied the plot for a poem, but which was afterwards -embodied by his friend Schiller in the drama of “William -Tell.” There was the rock on which Tell leaped -from Gessler’s boat; there grew the linden-tree where -Tell shot the apple from the head of his son; there the -chapel of William Tell, and there the hundreds of interesting -localities connected more or less closely with -the early tyranny of Austria and the heroic resistance -of the Swiss patriots. Bayard loved the works of -Schiller, as, in fact, could hardly be avoided by any one -who reads them in the original tongue and amid the -scenes so strikingly described.</p> - -<p>From Burglen, where Tell was born and where he so -heroically died while attempting to save a child from -drowning, they marched upward along the banks of the -Reuss to Amsteg, and thence along the precipices where -the craggy mountains rose thousands of feet above -them, and, the wild stream surged and raged far, far -below them. No scene more wild and overwhelmingly -grand than that at the “Devil’s Bridge,” over -which they crossed on their way to the summit of St. -Gothard. Black chasms yawned at their feet; enormous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> -shelving rocks hung threatening overhead. -Clouds of spray, like steam from huge caldrons, arose -from numberless pits, wherein the streams boiled and -hissed in their crevice-like channels. The clear air -was like wine. The peaks seemed to reach to heaven, -and gleamed with celestial purity. The charm of the -scenery lifted the mind and awakened the holiest emotions, -while the balm of health permeated the body, -and gave it a strength seemingly supernatural. What -person is there who loves not the dear old peaks of -Switzerland! Who has passed the heights of St. Gothard -and not awakened a glow in his body and an impulse -in his soul that strengthen him ever after!</p> - -<p>But it is not our purpose to portray to the reader -the scenes, in the description of which Bayard so -much excelled, and hence, making note only of such -things as had a marked influence on his life and writings, -we hastily follow him in his pilgrimage through -the vale of Ticino, over Lago Maggiore, to the gates of -Milan, under the clear blue sky of lovely Italy. There -the most magnificent marble Cathedral in all the world, -when considered as a triumph of art in reproducing the -Beautiful, lifted its spires and figures above the roofs -of churches and palaces. A bewildering forest of -peaks and towers confuse the student of its outline, -and innumerable collections of exquisitely wrought -groups and statues dishearten and confuse the student -of art. Yet the unity of its proportions, and the -symmetry of its arches and cornices, were recognized<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> -by all. Bayard trod its artistic pavement with feelings -of awe and admiration. He gazed long upon its -aisles and pillars, and crept on tip-toe into the shadows -of its great altar. It is one of the most solemn -things in life to stand in such a temple of genius. -The stained windows, with their sacred figures and -symbols, the sweet reverberations of the sacred music, -the low chant of the priests, the kneeling forms of -penitent worshippers, the strength of the workmanship -and vastness of its sombre recesses, awaken sensations -that sleep in the open air. The naturally -vicious and cruel avoid those chancels, and the wise -and good gain encouragement from the supreme calm -that reigns therein. Bayard enjoyed his stay in Milan -and his visits to the Cathedral most heartily, and it -was an important experience in the development of -his natural character. How his skill in observation, -and his interest in everything had increased! Bright -and acute by nature, he saw and noted many things -when he first landed, which others would have passed -without observing; but those months of discipline and -anxious research had developed this characteristic, -until, as he enters Italy, he notices every shrub, every -animal, every building, every man, woman and child; -and at a glance passes them under such close scrutiny -that he is able, months after, to describe them in all the -details of form, color, nature, association, habits, and -occupation. How boundless and fathomless is the unobserved -about us! How few notice the myriad of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -interesting and enlightening objects and incidents that -come within the range of their vision! The disposition -and aptitude for observation is as indispensable -to the traveller, as it is convenient to one who plods -the dull routine of home life. Bayard was naturally -discerning and inclined to investigate. Such will be -the deliberate conclusion of one who studies his life -as a whole, although his enemies have sometimes taken -advantage of his modest suppressions to accuse him of -blindness. Bayard sees a child in the garments of -priesthood, and pities him for his solitary life. He -meets a poor woman and notices the texture of her -dress, and the scar upon her cheek. He looks at a -painting of the Cathedral, and observes that a spire is -wanting. He looks at the towers, and compares those -creations of art with the more rugged spires of Monte -Rosa’s ice-crags. He laments the ignorance of the -people whose features advertised their needs. He -studies and criticises the shape and position of the -Arch of Peace, and the bronze groups that adorn its -summit: shops, toy-stands, cabs, soldiers, flowers, -priests, dukes, houses, fields, schools, coin, clothing, -atmosphere, and food,—all are noticed and laid away -for recollection, as without order they attracted his -attention. He discovered more worth relating in Milan, -than some travellers saw in the whole of Europe.<a name="FNanchor_1" id="FNanchor_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> - -<p>From Milan the party walked to Genoa, going -through the battle-fields of Hannibal and the Cæsars, -along highways once the paved roads of the Roman -Empire, and under the shadows of ancient castles -whose walls once bristled with the shields of knights -and spears of yeomen. It was a glorious, though -tedious journey, and by thus travelling in the manner -of pilgrims they met the inhabitants at their usual occupations, -and learned much of the customs and feelings -of the common people. Such information comes not -through the windows of railroad carriages, nor enters -by the portals of grand hotels.</p> - -<p>Having visited the ducal palaces, cathedrals, and -parks of Genoa, he went by boat to Leghorn, and -thence to Pisa. There he saw, in the Cathedral, the -swinging chandelier which led Galileo to investigate -the laws of gravitation, and satisfied his curiosity -by ascending the Leaning Tower, and left the city with -those melodies of unearthly sweetness, which the -echoes of the Baptistry give forth, still ringing in his -ears. After riding all night in a rickety cart, and suffering -horribly from the terrible storm and jolting -conveyance, he entered the sacred precincts of that -hallowed city, so beautiful, so dear to the heart of the -poet and painter,—Florence.</p> - -<p>In his poem, “The Picture of St. John,” Bayard -thus speaks of that enchanted locality:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Ah, lovely Florence! never city wore</div> -<div class="verse">So shining robes as I on thee bestowed:</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -<div class="verse">For all the rapture of my being flowed</div> -<div class="verse">Around thy beauty, filling, flooding o’er</div> -<div class="verse">The banks of Arno and the circling hills,</div> -<div class="verse">With light no wind of sunset ever spills</div> -<div class="verse">From out its saffron seas! Once, and no more,</div> -<div class="verse">Life’s voyage touches the enchanted shore.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>During his stay in Florence, Bayard wrote a poem -which so clearly expressed his affection for the maiden -in Kennett, whom he afterwards married, that many -have supposed the fictitious title, by which he addressed -her, to be her real name. In that poem he thus referred -to Florence:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Dear Lillian, all I wished is won!</div> -<div class="verse">I sit beneath Italia’s sun,</div> -<div class="verse">Where olive orchards gleam and quiver</div> -<div class="verse">Along the banks of Arno’s river.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Rich is the soil with fancy’s gold;</div> -<div class="verse">The stirring memories of old</div> -<div class="verse">Rise thronging in my haunted vision,</div> -<div class="verse">And wake my spirit’s young ambition.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>That Italian paradise, situated in the beautiful vale -of that most charming river, is perhaps the loveliest -spot in all that land. Being the home of such artists -as Michael Angelo and Raphael, the abode of such -poets as Dante, and of such scientific men as Galileo, -it possessed an intense interest because of its association -with them. Being also the seat of the De Medici, -of Machiavelli, of Pitti, and the resort of the greatest -American poets and sculptors, its themes for verse and -prose are almost numberless. There Bayard made a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> -stay of several months. He devoted himself to the -study of the Italian language, in which he soon became -proficient, and visited every castle, monastery, -amphitheatre, and mountain in the suburbs, and carefully -scrutinized the tombs of Sante Croce, the inlaid -work of the Duomo, and those marvels of art in the -Pitti and Uffizi galleries. He ever after mentioned -his first stay in Florence as a season of the most intense -delight, and knowing how vast is the field for -study and recreation, and his peculiar susceptibility to -all the lights and shades of art, we see how full was -his heart of the purest and most satisfactory intellectual -joy. There he saw Raphael’s “St. John in the Desert,” -and it is probable that the painting prompted him to -write the poem entitled “The Picture of St. John,” -the scene of which is laid partly in Florence, and is -one of his most valued literary productions. There -he saw the <i lang="it">Madonna della Sedia</i> of Raphael, the companion -piece of the <i lang="it">Madonna</i> he saw and so much -admired in Dresden. There he saw Titian’s Goddess, -so radiant with feminine beauty, and there Michael -Angelo’s first attempt at sculpture;—so many treasures -of art are there, and so many sacred places renowned -in history, that the great city gains its living from the -visitors and students that fill its hotels, and crowd its -churches and museums. Bayard actually loved Florence, -and returned to it afterwards with that irresistible -yearning which a young man feels for the home -of his lover.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> - -<p>There remains in all the world but one other place -for the artist after he has seen and appreciated Florence. -His love for the exquisitely sweet and beautiful -is satisfied,—all the tender and delicate links between -art and nature can there be seen and felt. An exhibition -of the mighty, grand, colossal side of art -remains; and to the lover of such exhibitions, and to -the romance-seeker who, like Bayard, desires to walk -the dusty halls, peopled with the ghosts of half-forgotten -ages, Rome still waits.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>Visit to Rome.—Attractions of its Ruins.—Bayard’s Persistent -Searches.—His Limited Means.—Sights and Experiences.—Journey -to Marseilles.—Walks to Lyons.—Desperate Circumstances.—Stay -in Paris.—Employment of his Time.—Departure -for London.—Failure to obtain Money or Work.—Seeks -a Friend.—Obtains Help from a Stranger.—Voyage to -New York.—Arrival Home.</p> - -</div> - -<p>Who has entered the aged city of Rome and not felt -the power of its thrilling associations? How the -doors of history swing open before the traveller, and -how sublime the panorama which unfolds to his view! -How swiftly pass the scenes of pomp and the parades -of heroes! It cannot be described. It must be felt -to be understood. It requires no very active imagination -to see again the strong walls, the towers, the -gates, the majestic temples, and the superb Capitol -rising over all. To be able to walk its paved -streets, and wend about its Corinthian porches, and -through its marvellous arches; to rush with the crowds -of Romans to a seat in the Coliseum; to march in -the triumphal processions, and to listen to the echo of -Cicero’s voice among the pillars of the Forum, is no -very difficult dream, when the same buildings which -saw and heard those things are yet before you. One<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -can stand in the shadows of ancient ruins, when the -moon gives light enough to see the outline, but not -sufficient to show the scars which the ages have given -them, and witness again the gatherings of the Roman -people, and make out the forms of Cincinnatus, of -Scipio, of Marius, of Cæsar, of Cicero, of Augustus, -or of Constantine, as their lumbering chariots jolt -over the pavements and around the palace walls. The -Tiber, which rolls on its ceaseless course, and which -saw the faces of Livy, Horace, and Virgil, moves by -the Tarpeian Rock, and the Campus Martius, with the -same eddying playfulness as it exhibited then. New -glories gild the clouds, and new temples adorn the -adjacent plains. Jupiter gives way to Jehovah, priests -of Janus and Venus stand aside for monks and friars -to fill their office. The Coliseum crumbles, as St. -Paul’s lifts its grand façades. Capitolinus falls and -St. Peter’s fills the bow of heaven. Marvels of ancient -art grow dusty with the ages, while new forms, -so divinely conceived, so incomparably wrought, and -so immaculate in modesty and matchless in color, -spring into being at the call of the later civilization. -All is interesting, exciting, glorious! One walks the -streets in dreams, lulled by the musical cadences of -the rippling native language. Words cannot convey -the feelings awakened by that new sense, which discerns -and interprets the ancient and modern associations -of Rome. The traveller feels as if he were a companion -of the great and powerful, of the refined and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -good, who have walked those streets before him, and -ever after the words they spoke, and the books they -wrote, have a fresh and unabating interest.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus4"> -<img src="images/illus4.jpg" width="700" height="410" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">THE ARENA OF THE COLISEUM.</p> -</div> - -<p>So Bayard saw the ancient city, although he has -described it somewhat differently. Rome was to -Florence what the Apollo is to the Venus de Medici, -each enhancing the beauty of the other, and losing -nothing by comparison. It was near the first of January, -1846, when the subject of these sketches entered -Rome and took up his abode in a lowly tavern opposite -the front of the Pantheon. In a most humble, -almost beggarly way, he obtained his food at the -cheapest places, and walked among those old ruins in -the most unobtrusive manner. He was too poor, and -earned too little as a newspaper correspondent, to -spend aught on the luxuries of Rome. Hence all his -time and attention were on that which pleased the -eye and satisfied the mind, rather than upon those -things which gratify the appetite or inflate the pride. -He walked to the Coliseum by moonlight, and heeded -not fatigue. For within its cragged circuit he saw -again the excited hosts, the gay ladies about the imperial -throne, the writhing Christian, and the lions -with bloody jaws. Or he saw the fiercer human beings -engaged in the gladiatorial combat, saw the flash of -shields and swords, heard the groan of the dying as it -was drowned by the rising shouts for the victor. -He searched the hidden recesses of the baths, palaces, -arches, prisons, and churches, which remain as reminders<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> -of the old city; he marched far out on the Appian -Way and contemplated its tombs and mysterious piles -in laborious detail; he sketched the spirals of Trajan’s -Column, and drew a plan of the ancient Capitol. In -awe-stricken silence he walked beneath the dome of -mighty St. Peter’s, and marvelled in worshipful mood -before those exquisite mosaics. He lingered long and -lovingly in the great labyrinth of the Vatican, wept at -the sight of some of those great paintings, and bowed -with respect to the greatest productions of the greatest -sculptors. Few will give credit to the glowing pictures -which he draws of the arts in Rome, nor believe -the strong assertions we herein make, who have not -been there and experienced the same sensations.</p> - -<p>He visited in pious respect the tombs of Tasso, -Keats, and Shelley, and found his way into the studios -of the modern artists. He took short trips into the -country, and once stopped for the night under the -shadows of the Temple of Vesta at Tivoli. Beyond -Rome he could not go. For once, Dame Fortune -turned her back upon him. If he would see Naples, -Pompeii, and Samos, he must have money. Money -he could not get. Grievously disappointed, yet thankful -for what he had seen, he most devoutly thanks God, -and turns northward.</p> - -<p>At Civita Vecchia to which place he, as usual, -walked, he embarked, third class, on a steamboat for -Marseilles. The beds were rough planks, the food was -drenched like himself, and fleas infested every stitch of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -covering. It stormed, and Bayard might have perished -with exposure to the bad weather, had not a sailor -taken compassion on him and his companion, and lent -them some clothing. That kindness he ever remembered, -and it may have been in his mind when, after -meeting many sailors, he wrote of them:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“They do not act with a studied grace,</div> -<div class="verse">They do not speak in delicate phrase,</div> -<div class="verse">But the candor of heaven is on their face,</div> -<div class="verse">And the freedom of ocean in all their ways.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">They cannot fathom the subtle cheats,</div> -<div class="verse">The lying arts that the landsmen learn:</div> -<div class="verse">Each looks in the eyes of the man he meets,</div> -<div class="verse">And whoso trusts him, he trusts in turn.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">But whether they die on sea or shore,</div> -<div class="verse">And lie under water, or sand, or sod,</div> -<div class="verse">Christ give them the rest that he keeps in store,</div> -<div class="verse">And anchor their souls in the harbor of God!”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>He arrived at Marseilles with but five dollars for -the expense of a journey of five hundred miles on foot. -Dark outlook, indeed, on entering for the first time a -country with whose language he was unacquainted. -Through rain and mud, sunshine and darkness, he -moved on, courageous as ever, and enjoying with the -same zest his glimpses of ancient cathedrals and renowned -localities. At Lyons he received a small -amount of money by mail, and at a time when death by -starvation seemed but a few hours removed. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -story of his mishaps by land and by water, on his way -from Lyons to Paris is a very exciting narration, as -he relates them in his “Views Afoot,” and yet shows -the best side of a most terrible experience. But Paris -was reached at last, and in the first week of February, -1846, they found a lodging place in the Rue de la -Harpe, at the rate of two dollars and eighty cents a -month. He lived on twenty cents a day, and in place -of a teacher of French, subscribed at a circulating -library and picked out the words and phrases by downright -hard study in his fireless and damp attic. For -five weeks he studied and rambled and endured privation, -learning Paris by heart and finding himself made -free and happy by the atmosphere of gayety which pervades -everything there. His favorite resort was the -Place de la Concorde, which is an open space at one -side of the palace of the Tuileries, and at the foot of -that magnificent embowered avenue called the Champs -Elysées. There were then, as now, the enchanting -groves, with the gardens, concert bowers, and shy -booths. There was the obelisk from Luxor, which -called Bayard’s attention to Egypt and created a strong -desire to see that ancient land of the Nile. There were -the solid walls of the Tuileries upon one side, the river -Seine upon another, while the twin palaces, with the -distant front of the Madeleine Church showing between -them, shut out the populous city on the other. But -the pavements, flowers, fountains, bronze figures, obelisk -and palaces were the least of the attractions<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> -which called this persevering young student to that -celebrated square. It was there that many of the most -important acts in the history of France were performed. -It was there that kings were made, and there they -were beheaded. It was there that priests had preached, -and there that they were murdered. It was there that -in the crimson and lurid days of ’94, the Red Revolutionists -each day filled the baskets at the foot of -the guillotine with the heads of twoscore and often -threescore citizens. Who would surmise that in a -city so gay, so cheerful, so imbued with the very spirit -of pleasure and childlike life, such hideous deeds of -blood and destruction could be performed! Quick-tempered, -excitable people, going with the flash of a -thought from one extreme to the other. No place in -all Paris better exhibits the character of the nation, -than the Place de la Concorde. There Bayard often -lingered and pondered, seeing clearly through the film -of gay attire, garlands of roses, delightful wines, and -gorgeous carriages, the dangerous yet often heroic -elements, which have so often thrown off the crust of -fashion and politeness, and flooded the beautiful city -with seething torrents from the deepest hell.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus5"> -<img src="images/illus5.jpg" width="700" height="440" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">PLACE DE LA CONCORDE.</p> -</div> - -<p>He sought out the master-pieces of art in the galleries, -cathedrals, and parks, and dwelt long and caressingly -upon their entrancing forms, having now passed -through a school that left him a competent critic. He -gazed after the carriage where Louis Philippe rode in -state, and wondered if such a monarchy could endure,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -and with a powerful yearning fumbled the unintelligible -leaves of Victor Hugo, Beranger, and Lamartine—not, -however, to be long unintelligible.</p> - -<p>There, again, he was in financial distress, and was -saved from great suffering by the unexpected kindness -of a merchant, who, like Mr. Chandler and Mr. Patterson -at the beginning of his career, loaned him money, -although Bayard was a stranger and could give no -security.</p> - -<p>From Paris <i lang="la">via</i> Versailles and Rouen, he walked to -Dieppe, and, after crossing the Channel, travelled by -third-class car to London, where he arrived with but -thirty cents in French money. With no money to pay -his lodging, with a letter from home in the post-office, -on which he could not pay the postage, he made desperate -attempts to obtain employment as a printer. But the -“Trade Unions” were so omnipotent, that no stranger -without a certificate could be set at work without a -“strike.” At last, when long without his usual meals, and -sure of being refused a lodging, he applied to Mr. Putnam, -who was conducting the London agency of the American -publishing firm, who loaned him five dollars, and -he could again eat and sleep. Several weeks of waiting -intervened, in which Mr. Putnam kindly kept Bayard -in employment, at a salary sufficient to pay his board, -before the money came from America to take them -home. Even then the captain of the vessel on which -he returned with his two friends who started with him -nearly two years before, was compelled to take a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> -promise for a part of the fare. Captain Morgan, who -commanded the vessel, was one of the noblest men that -ever paced a deck, and so popular did he become, that -his biography was published thirty years after this -passage, in an illustrated number of “Scribner’s Magazine.” -Their voyage was a fair one, their landing in New -York a happy one; but no pen except his own can describe -the joy of seeing again his own country, and of -walking at evening into the door of that home which -he left two years before as <em>a boy</em>, and to which he then -returned <em>a man</em>.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>Edits a Country Newspaper.—The “Phœnixville Pioneer.”—The -Discouragements.—The Suspension.—Publishes “Views -Afoot.”—Introduction to Literary Men.—Contributes to the -“Literary World.”—Becomes an Editor of the New York “Tribune.”—The -Gold Excitement of 1849.—Resolves to visit the -Eldorado.—Arrival in California.</p> - -</div> - -<p>Bayard Taylor’s gifts were not such as would contribute -toward the success of a country newspaper—so -delicate, refined, poetical, and classical, we wonder -that he should ever have undertaken so uncongenial a -work. The best things which he could write would be -dull as lead to the majority of his readers. The more -literary merit his editorials and poems contained, the -less likely were they to receive the praise of his subscribers. -Yet his disposition to work was so inherent -in every nerve, that he had not been at home one week -from his tour of Europe before he was searching for a -place for editorial work or correspondence. Mr. Frederick -Foster, who was an old acquaintance and who also -had been in the office of the West Chester “Village -Record,” suggested the establishment of a weekly newspaper. -As they looked for an opening for such an enterprise, -they hit upon the town of Phœnixville, Pa., as the -most advantageous locality. Phœnixville was then a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> -prosperous village, containing about two thousand inhabitants, -twenty-seven miles from Philadelphia and -thirty-one miles from Reading. There were rolling-mills, -furnaces, and a variety of manufactories in the -town, and the people constituted an enterprising and -unusually vigorous community. There Mr. Taylor and -Mr. Foster began the publication of the “Pioneer,” -and with high hopes and an alarming confidence, -waited neither for capital nor subscribers.</p> - -<p>Mr. Taylor has often related to his friends some -most amusing anecdotes connected with his life as a -country editor. One subscriber wanted a glossary, -another wished to see the local gossip about John -Henry Smith’s surprise party, instead of the dull -columns of literary reviews. One suggested that two -editors would kill any paper, while another ventured -to assert that he himself would edit the paper for them -at three hundred dollars a year and “find shears.”</p> - -<p>It was a difficult task. To edit the New York “Herald” -would have been far easier and better suited to Mr. -Taylor’s genius. The people, of Phœnixville, however, -began to appreciate their privileges after the -lack of support compelled the young journalists to close -their office and suspend the publication of the paper; -and financial aid to re-establish the “Pioneer” was -generously offered. But one year in such an unappreciated -labor was enough for Mr. Taylor, and he left -Phœnixville, according to his own account, considerably -wiser and poorer than he was when he entered it. If<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -any of our readers has attempted to start a literary -paper in the country, and passed through the perplexities -of financial management and rude discouragements, -he will need no words to prompt his most hearty sympathy -with the work, and the suspension of Mr. Taylor’s -undertaking. To make successful a publication -of that character in a scattered and small community, -requires a greater diversity of talent, greater manual -labor, and a closer study of all-various human nature, -than it does to conduct the largest establishments in -the limitless field of a great city. Mr. Taylor’s experience -simply added another illustration of the universal -rule. His best articles were unappreciated or believed -to be borrowed, and everything hindered the -pursuit of that conscientious literary aspiration which -feels keenly the failings and improprieties of superficial -work.</p> - -<p>It was in this year that Mr. Taylor prepared, and -Mr. Putnam published, his surprisingly attractive -volume, entitled “Views Afoot.” With such Quaker-like -simplicity was it written, and such a noble -spirit of poetry pervaded the descriptions of scenery, -men, and art, that it leaped into popular favor on the -prestige of its advance sheets. Its success was a -forcible example of the winning power of simple -truth. Its interest will never abate, because he did -not assume the pompous airs of an infallible critic, but -rather chose to pretend to nothing but describe what -he saw as it appeared to him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p> - -<p>The success of that book introduced him at once -into the literary circles of New York, where, with the -friendship of Mr. Willis, Mr. Parke Godwin, Mr. -Horace Greeley, Mr. William Cullen Bryant, and -many others, well known as men of the highest culture, -he received a most cordial welcome. He was -at once secured by the management of the “Literary -World,” a periodical issued weekly in New York, and -which, from 1847 to 1853, held the highest place in -literary criticism and classical composition gained by -any American magazine or paper of that period.</p> - -<p>When he sought employment on the New York -“Tribune,” in 1848, a place was readily found for him, -and he began, by the contribution of small articles, -his long and honorable career as one of the editors -of that influential journal.</p> - -<p>In the spring of 1849, Mr. Greeley suggested to -Mr. Taylor the importance of having some trustworthy -information from the gold regions of California, about -which there was then so much excitement. The people -read, with the greatest avidity, every scrap of news -or gossip from the gold-fields, and thousands were on -their way by steam and by overland mule-trains to -seek their fortunes in that Eldorado. At no period -of our nation’s history, not excepting the agitation at -the beginning of great wars, have the people of this -country exhibited such uncontrollable excitement as -they displayed at that time.</p> - -<p>The rich sold their property to the first bidder, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -took the first conveyance; while the poor started on -foot, with nothing to preserve them from the starvation -which followed in the desert. For a time it appeared -as if New England and the Middle States would be -left without sufficient male population to carry on the -routine of official duty.</p> - -<p>In the height of that feverish exodus Mr. Taylor -decided to fall in with the tide, and drifting with the -current, tell the readers of the “Tribune” what he saw -and heard. Hence, in June, he took passage on a -crowded steamer for Panama, and after a dreadful -experience in crossing the Isthmus, steamed up the -Pacific Coast and entered the Golden Gate.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>Entrance to California.—The Camp at San Francisco in 1849.—Description -of the People.—Gold-Hunters.—Speculations.—Prices -of Merchandise.—Visit to the Diggings.—Adventures -on the Route.—The First Election.—The Constitutional Convention.—San -Francisco after Two Months’ Absence.—Poetical -Descriptions.—Departure for Mexico.—Arrival at Mazatlan.—Overland -to the Capital.—Adventure with Robbers.—Return -to New York.</p> - -</div> - -<p>The circumstances under which Mr. Taylor entered -California, were in striking contrast with those which -surrounded him when he made his first attempt to see -the world. For, when he started for his European -tour, and throughout the whole period of his stay there, -he was hindered and annoyed by the lack of money, -and by the lack of acquaintances. Then, he was -dependent wholly upon his own earnings and economy -for every privilege he enjoyed. He had nothing -substantial behind him, and nothing certain before -him. But in California he moves among the people -with the prestige and capital of a powerful journal -behind him, and before him the certainty of ample -remuneration for all his trials. He is no longer the -unknown, uncared-for stripling, whose adventures are -regarded as visionary, and whose company was an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> -intrusion. He was the welcomed guest of naval officers, -of army officers, and invited to the home of -the Military Governor, and to the headquarters of -Gen. John C. Fremont.</p> - -<p>When he entered San Francisco, that place was -only a miners’ camp, composed of tents, barracks, -piles of merchandise, and tethered mules. How -utterly incomprehensible it seems now to the visitor -to that great metropolis, when he reads that, as late -as 1849, there were only huts and tents where now -stand the palatial business blocks, gorgeous hotels, -and miles of residences made of brick and stone! It -was an interesting time to visit the Pacific shore, and -most interestingly did Mr. Taylor describe it in his -letters, and in his book entitled “Eldorado.” The great -camp of San Francisco was but a few weeks old when -he arrived there; but, in its boiling humanity, Mr. -Taylor noticed Malays, Chinamen, Mexicans, Germans, -Englishmen, Yankees, Indians, Japanese, -Chilians, Hawaiians, and Kanakas, rushing, shouting, -gesticulating, like madmen. Gold! Gold! Gold! -Everything, anything for gold! Though hundreds -lay in the swamps of Panama, dead or dying with -the cholera; although the bleaching bones of many -enthusiasts gleamed in the sun on the great American -desert; although thousands had perished in the -thickets, snows, and floods of the Sierra Nevada, -their eyes never to be gratified with the sight of gold-dust; -yet the increasing multitude followed faster,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> -and more recklessly in their footsteps. Into such a -mass of half-insane humanity, did Mr. Taylor thrust -himself, that the world, as well as himself, might -profit thereby. Great names were given to the -smallest things, and prices larger than the names. -The Parker House was a board shanty with lodging-rooms -at twenty-five dollars a week, and was -not more than seventy feet square, but rented to the -landlord for one hundred and ten thousand dollars a -year. Newspapers sold for a dollar each, and nearly -every class of merchandise from the Eastern States -brought a profit of several thousand per cent. The -wages of a common laborer were from fifteen dollars to -twenty dollars a day, while real estate went up so fast -in price, that few dared to sell, lest the next day -should show that they had lost a fortune. One man, -who died insolvent, but having, in his name a small -tract of land, left after all a million of dollars to his -heirs, so much did the lands increase in value before -the estate was settled.</p> - -<p>Fortunes were made in a single day. If a man -arrived there with anything to sell, he could put his -own price upon it, and dispose of it to the first -comer. One man, whose store was a log-cabin with -a canvas roof, made five hundred thousand dollars in -eight months. Gambling was carried on in an equally -magnificent scale. Greater bets than Baden-Baden or -Monaco ever saw, were common-place there. Millions -of dollars changed hands every day. Gold was so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -plentiful, that boys made immense profits, gathering, -out of the dust in the streets, the nuggets and fine -gold which had been carelessly allowed to drop from -the miners’ bags or pockets.</p> - -<p>From that strangest of all strange medleys, Mr. -Taylor travelled, mule-back, through a wild and dangerous -region, to Stockton, and thence to the productive -“diggings” on Mokelumne River. There he -saw the miners hard at work gathering the gold in -the most primitive manner. The sands found in the -dry bed of the river were mixed with gold, while in -the crevices and little holes in the rocks, pieces of -gold, varying from the size of a five-cent piece to that -of a hen’s egg, were frequently found. Gold from -the sand was gathered by shaking a bowlful of it -until the heaviest particles fell through to the bottom; -and by washing away the finer particles of dirt, and -picking out the stones with the fingers. Nearly every -miner found some gold; but those who made the -immense fortunes were quite rare. For many of such -as were in luck, and who found great sums, were so -sure of finding more, that they squandered what they -had discovered, in a manner most unfortunate for -them, but very fortunate for those who had found -nothing. All the details, experiences, and adventures -of these followers of Mammon were exhibited to Mr. -Taylor, and the most tempting offers made to him to -dig for himself. But, true to his employers, he -turned from mines “with millions in them,” and wrote<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -letters for the “Tribune.” Over jagged mountains, -through thickets of thorns, through muddy rivers, -over desert plains, and along routes, dangerous alike -from man and beast, he fearlessly pursued his journey -of observation, exhibiting many of those characteristics -which have distinguished H. M. Stanley, that -other great correspondent. Sights he saw that curdled -the blood; men he met, pale, haggard, and dying; -bones he saw of lost and starved miners; and the -extremes of misery and joy, wealth and poverty, -generosity and meanness, faith in God, and worship -of the devil, which must have bewildered him.</p> - -<p>The fact that he had money and social influence did -not protect him from the hardships common to all travellers -who visited the gold mines of California at that -early period. Many nights he slept in the open air, -having his single blanket and the cold earth for a bed. -Often he made his couch on a table or the floor in some -rude and dirty cabin. Sometimes he was lost in the -woods or among the mountains, and frequently suffered -long for food and water. He was determined to see -the land and its freight of human life in its most practical -form, although by so doing he often risked the -loss of comfort, of property, and occasionally of his -life.</p> - -<p>One of the most interesting chapters of history to be -found in any work connected with life in the United -States, is to be found in his simple but graphic account -of the first election in California. The rough, disintegrated,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> -and shifting communities of that new land -had for a year and a half depended for law and order -upon the innate respect for the rights of others to be -found in the hearts of a majority of civilized men. -Beyond this there were organized in some of the mining -towns a vigilance committee, and in a few others a -judge with almost supreme power was elected by a -vote of the people. These officials administered justice -by common consent, having no commission or authority -from the National Government. The enormous -crowds of immigrants which filled towns and cities in -a single month made the necessity for some form of -State or Territorial government apparent to the least -thoughtful. So a few of the more enterprising individuals, -advised and assisted by the military authorities, -undertook to bring order out of chaos by calling upon -the people to elect delegates to a Constitutional Convention. -The readiness and systematic manner in which -the people of that whole region responded to the call, -was one of the most remarkable as well as one of the -most instructive popular movements to be found in -the annals of freedom. The meeting of that Constitutional -Convention at Monterey; the rude accommodations, -the ability of the body, the harmony of their deliberations, -and the wisdom of their regulations and -provisions, was the subject of many most enthusiastic -epistles from the pen of Mr. Taylor. In his celebrated -book, now so much prized by the people of California, -and by students of American history, he gives many<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> -little details and incidents which are left out of other -books and so often overlooked by authors and correspondents, -but which are of inestimable importance in -gaining an accurate knowledge of the inside social and -political beginnings of that powerful State. He described -the appearance of the building in which the -Convention met, gives sketches of the prominent actors -in the assembly, and, as if foreseeing how posterity -would like to preserve the memory of that great day, -he gives the complexion, color of the hair, stature, and -dress of the noted men who held seats. It is as exciting -as one of Scott’s novels to read of the emotion, -the tears, among those legislators when the new State -was born, and when the “thirty-first” gun was fired -from the fort to announce the completion of the great -event. Thus, from the consent of the governed in its -most literal sense, the officers of the State of California -derived their just powers. And without discord, rebellious -or seditious conspiracies, a new government -took its place among the empires of the world. The -description of that event in his simple, straightforward -way was one of Mr. Taylor’s best deeds.</p> - -<p>Yet every incident and scene had its poetic side to -him, and, while that phase of his nature did not lead -him to exaggeration in prose, it often led him to break -into independent poetic effusions. He appears to -have long looked upon the Pacific coast as a field of -poetry and song, for, before he had any idea of visiting -the country, he wrote several poems, and located<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> -them there. “The Fight of Paso del Mar” was one -of those early poems, and the scene was the cliff at -the entrance to the harbor at Santa Barbara.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Gusty and raw was the morning,</div> -<div class="verse">A fog hung over the seas,</div> -<div class="verse">And its gray skirts, rolling inland,</div> -<div class="verse">Were torn by the mountain trees;</div> -<div class="verse">No sound was heard but the dashing</div> -<div class="verse">Of waves on the sandy bar,</div> -<div class="verse">When Pablo of San Diego</div> -<div class="verse">Bode down to the Paso del Mar.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">The pescadòr, out in his shallop,</div> -<div class="verse">Gathering his harvest so wide,</div> -<div class="verse">Sees the dim bulk of the headland</div> -<div class="verse">Loom over the waste of the tide;</div> -<div class="verse">He sees, like a white thread, the pathway</div> -<div class="verse">Wind round on the terrible wall,</div> -<div class="verse">Where the faint, moving speck of the rider</div> -<div class="verse">Seems hovering close to its fall.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Most sweetly sang he of the climate, and the prolific -gifts of nature in California, and one verse of his -“Manuela” contains a very vivid and accurate picture -of some of California, as seen by many travellers.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“All the air is full of music, for the winter rains are o’er,</div> -<div class="verse">And the noisy magpies chatter from the budding sycamore;</div> -<div class="verse">Blithely frisk unnumbered squirrels, over all the grassy slope;</div> -<div class="verse">Where the airy summits brighten, nimbly leaps the antelope.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>In a prophetic strain, which has been so often -quoted in that land where</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“The seaward winds are wailing through Santa Barbara’s pines,</div> -<div class="verse">And like a sheathless sabre, the far Pacific shines,”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> - -<p class="noindent">he foretold, in “The Pine Forest of Monterey,” what -has already happened in that magic land of sunshine, -gold, and miraculous progress.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse indent12">“Stately Pines,</div> -<div class="verse">But few more years around the promontory</div> -<div class="verse">Your chant will meet the thunders of the sea.</div> -<div class="verse">No more, a barrier to the encroaching sand</div> -<div class="verse">Against the surf ye’ll stretch defiant arm,</div> -<div class="verse">Though with its onset and besieging shock</div> -<div class="verse">Your firm knees tremble. Never more the wind</div> -<div class="verse">Shall pipe shrill music through your mossy beards,</div> -<div class="verse">Nor sunset’s yellow blaze athwart your heads</div> -<div class="verse">Crown all the hills with gold. Your race is past:</div> -<div class="verse">The mystic cycle, whose unnoted birth</div> -<div class="verse">Coeval was with yours, has run its sands,</div> -<div class="verse">And other footsteps from these changing shores</div> -<div class="verse">Frighten its haunting Spirit. Men will come</div> -<div class="verse">To vex your quiet with the din of toil;</div> -<div class="verse">The smoky volumes of the forge will stain</div> -<div class="verse">This pure, sweet air; loud keels will ride the sea,</div> -<div class="verse">Dashing its glittering sapphire into foam;</div> -<div class="verse">Through all her green cañadas Spring will seek</div> -<div class="verse">Her lavish blooms in vain, and clasping ye,</div> -<div class="verse">O, mournful Pines, within her glowing arms,</div> -<div class="verse">Will weep soft rains to find ye fallen low.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>He portrayed his California experiences in rhyme, -when he sang of “The Summer Camp,” and we quote -a few lines of it, so appropriate to his departure from -San Francisco.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“No more of travel, where the flaming sword</div> -<div class="verse">Of the great sun divides the heavens; no more</div> -<div class="verse">Of climbing over jutty steeps that swim</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> -<div class="verse">In driving sea-mists, where the stunted tree</div> -<div class="verse">Slants inland, mimicking the stress of winds</div> -<div class="verse">When wind is none; of plain and steaming marsh,</div> -<div class="verse">Where the dry bulrush crackles in the heat;</div> -<div class="verse">Of camps by starlight in the columned vault</div> -<div class="verse">Of sycamores, and the red, dancing fires</div> -<div class="verse">That build a leafy arch, efface and build,</div> -<div class="verse">And sink at last, to let the stars peep through;</div> -<div class="verse">Of cañons grown with pine, and folded deep</div> -<div class="verse">In golden mountain-sides; of airy sweeps</div> -<div class="verse">Of mighty landscape, lying all alone</div> -<div class="verse">Like some deserted world.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>He mentioned the deep impression of ceaseless -progress which the change of a few weeks had made -in the growth of San Francisco. When he re-entered -it, after his short stay in the mountains, he could not -recognize the streets, while the inhabitants and their -manners had undergone a change still more astonishing. -Where there were tents a few days before, now -were large buildings of wood, while the log-cabins and -Chinese houses had, in many places, given place to -structures of brick and stone. Wharves had been -built, streets regularly laid out, banks opened, wholesale -stores established, lines of steamers running to -the various ports along the coast, and up the rivers; -while the rude, dirty, careless, rushing multitude -had assumed a cleanliness and a gravity, unequal of -course to that of an Eastern city, but astonishingly in -advance of the previous wildness. Law offices, brokers’ -boards, smelting establishments, barber-shops, hotels, -bakeries, laundries, and news-stands had all been established<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> -in a confusingly short space of time. The place -he found as a frontier camp, he found four months later -a swarming yet civilized city, with all the officials, and -some of the red tape which characterize older corporations. -But San Francisco was not alone in its -growth; for Sacramento, San José, Monterey, and -many other towns and cities, had been as nothing, less -than a year before. At the time he left San Francisco, -they were populous cities and villages, teeming -with a resistless, sleepless activity. To accurately -record such a change, to give an anxious public correct -information regarding that wonderland, and the -fortune of their friends, and to bear a share in the -work of establishing such a State, was the task of -Mr. Taylor, and most creditably did he perform his -part.</p> - -<p>On leaving California, about the first of January, -1850, he decided to go down the coast to Mazatlan -and thence overland through Mexico. He came to that -conclusion after long consultations with his friends, -none of whom could or dared accompany him, while -all told him of robbers, deserts, impassable streams, -and dangerous wild beasts which awaited all travellers -in that benighted and trackless country. Mr. Taylor -would have enjoyed some thrilling adventures; and -the fears of his advisers only made him more decided -in his determination to go. So, alone, and with but -slight knowledge of the Spanish language, he disembarked -at Mazatlan on the Mexican coast, near the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> -mouth of the Gulf of California, and with a pair of -pistols and a dwarfed mule, started into the unknown -wilds of that tropical land.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus6"> -<img src="images/illus6.jpg" width="700" height="375" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">CASTLE OF CHAPULTEPEC.</p> -</div> - -<p>His hardships were many, and his fatigue at times -almost unbearable; but his love for things new and -strange, for the unexplored and unknown, kept him -moving perseveringly on through the thickets and ravines -of upper Mexico. By great skill and considerable -assurance he managed to keep in the good graces -of the people he met, and for several days, in the forests -and in the villages, he met, with very kind and hospitable -treatment.</p> - -<p>On one occasion, however, he fell among thieves. -Before he arrived at the city of Mexico, and while still -in the wilderness of the interior of the Mexican highlands, -he was suddenly attacked by three Mexican robbers, -to whose marauding purposes he could make no -resistance, he having placed such reliance upon the -good faith of the natives as to carry his pistol without -a cartridge in it. The banditti made him dismount and -hand over what little money in coin he happened to -have, and after taking such blankets and trinkets as -they desired, left him with his hands tied behind him, -to get on as best he could. Fortunately they did not -want his horse, which he had bought in place of the -useless mule, and after extricating himself from his -bonds by long struggles, he mounted his horse and -rode on to Mexico with his drafts for money all intact. -He seems to have placed less reliance on the Mexicans,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -after that encounter, and took good care to ride out of -range of their muskets and to keep himself supplied -with ammunition.</p> - -<p>His visit to the Mexican capital was an occasion of -great interest to him, and brought up freshly and vividly -the story which Prescott has so well told of the -Aztecs and the heroic age of Cortez. No scene in Europe -is said to combine such extremes of sweetness and -grandeur, of light and shade, of valley and hill, of plain -and cragged highland, of land and water, of art and -nature, as the valley of Mexico. There he saw the -evidences of prehistoric civilization, and looked with -curiosity and awe upon the towering fortress of Chapultepec, -which connects the present with the ages -past. However, Mr. Taylor could not stop long in -that charming vale, and hastened on over the battle-fields -of Scott to Vera Cruz. From Vera Cruz he -went by steamer to Mobile, from thence overland to -Charleston, S. C., and by way of North Carolina, -Virginia, and Washington, to New York, where, -about the middle of March, he resumed his duties as -editor of the “Tribune” with the thought that there -he might stay the remainder of his life.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>The Poet’s First Love.—Playmates.—Miss Mary S. Agnew.—His -Fidelity.—Poems Inspired by Affection.—Her Failing Health.—Consumption.—His -Return to Her.—The Marriage at the -Death-bed.—Her Death.—The Poet’s Grief.—His Inner Life.—The -Story in his own Rhyme.</p> - -</div> - -<p>We now enter upon the most holy ground ever -trod by the biographer,—the sacred recesses of the -human heart. In the annals of ordinary life, or even -in those of many great men, the record of their -early love may not be important to the reader. But -to the poet, these more subtle and more tender emotions -are events of the greatest importance. Every -heart contains more or less of the poetical sentiment, -and the love and marriage of any individual is a -matter of great moment to him, although it may not -be to his biographer. But here we write of a poet. -To him, all the strings of human feeling had a clear -and unmistakable sound. To him, the undertones of -life played an important part in the harmony of his -being. All that was pure and sweet in love he saw. -All that was beautiful and lovable in life he felt, with -a keenness none but the poet can know. Hence to -him, we find, as in the history of the grand poets of -ancient days, his love was a holy sentiment, to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> -valued as God’s best gift, and to be worshipped as a -part of Him.</p> - -<p>In a neighboring farm-house, but a short distance -from his father’s farm, lived Mary S. Agnew. She was -born and reared in the same community, went to the -same school, attended the same church, and was a -playmate, classmate, and trusted companion. They -sought each other in childhood’s days, and their -friendship ripened into love as imperceptibly and -surely as the coming and going of the years developed -their lives, and pressed them forward into manhood and -womanhood. Her dark hair and eyes, her slender -form, her lovable disposition, her conscientiousness and -purity were presented to him in that strong light, -under which all lovers see the merits and virtues of -their sweethearts. Added to that was the romance -and insight of that other sense which poets are said to -possess. He built a shrine to this idol wherever he -went, and through all his early years she was, as he -said in verse, the representative to him of the goodness -of God. On the farm, he made verses in her -honor; at the Quaker meeting he was thankful for her; -at the parties and social gatherings among the young -folks, she was the centre of his thought. Not foolishly -or blindly did he exhibit his affection. Not -extravagantly or obtrusively did he follow his wooing. -But his poetry and his prose give here and there a clew to -the deep and fervent love of his youthful days. Some -of his very sweetest poetry found its inspiration in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> -that love, and when the volume is published, if ever -it is, in which shall appear those sonnets, which -have modestly been kept thus far from the public -gaze, there will be found gems that the world cannot -well spare. How sincere, disinterested, and noble -was his affection, was proved by his faithful and -unabated love, after he had seen the world and its -loveliest ladies, and after the cruel hand of disease had -chiselled away the round and rosy cheeks, and left, in -place of the sparkling, blushing maiden of his early -love, a pallid spectre—a shadow of her former self. -In all his wanderings, he never neglected her. In all -his most tender writings, her image is more or less -clear. In one of his volumes, “The Poet’s Journal,” -he gives a history of his love and sorrow; of the -awakening, after years of death, in the sweetest and -most touching of all his poems.</p> - -<p>He allowed some of his earlier verses to see the -light of print, wherein he makes mention, indirectly, -of Mary S. Agnew. When travelling along the Danube, -in 1845, he thus writes:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Old playmates! bid me welcome</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Amid your brother-band;</div> -<div class="verse">Give me the old affection,—</div> -<div class="verse indent1">The glowing grasp of hand!</div> -<div class="verse">I seek no more the realms of old,—</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Here is my Fatherland.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Come hither, gentle maiden,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Who weep’st in tender joy!</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> -<div class="verse">The rapture of thy presence</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Repays the world’s annoy,</div> -<div class="verse">And calms the wild and ardent heart</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Which warms the wandering boy.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">In many a mountain fastness,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">By many a river’s foam,</div> -<div class="verse">And through the gorgeous cities,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">’Twas loneliness to roam;</div> -<div class="verse">For the sweetest music in my heart</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Was the olden songs of home.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>When in Florence, in 1846, he wrote a poem -entitled “In Italy,” wherein were the following expressive -lines:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Rich is the soil with Fancy’s gold;</div> -<div class="verse">The stirring memories of old</div> -<div class="verse">Rise thronging in my haunted vision,</div> -<div class="verse">And wake my spirit’s young ambition.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">But as the radiant sunsets close</div> -<div class="verse">Above Val d’Arno’s bowers of rose,</div> -<div class="verse">My soul forgets the olden glory,</div> -<div class="verse">And deems our love a dearer story.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Thy words, in Memory’s ear, outchime</div> -<div class="verse">The music of the Tuscan rhyme;</div> -<div class="verse">Thou standest here—the gentle-hearted—</div> -<div class="verse">Amid the shades of bards departed.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">I see before thee fade away</div> -<div class="verse">Their garlands of immortal bay,</div> -<div class="verse">And turn from Petrarch’s passion-glances</div> -<div class="verse">To my own dearer heart-romances.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“A single thought of thee effaced</div> -<div class="verse">The fair Italian dream I chased;</div> -<div class="verse">For the true clime of song and sun</div> -<div class="verse">Lies in the heart which mine hath won.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> - -<p>When he reached London in 1846, after his long -pilgrimage, and when so reduced in funds and friends, -he yet had the time and mind to write of her these -graceful rhymes:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“I’ve wandered through the golden lands</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Where art and beauty blended shine—</div> -<div class="verse">Where features limned by painters’ hands</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Beam from the canvas made divine,</div> -<div class="verse">And many a god in marble stands,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">With soul in every breathing line;</div> -<div class="verse">And forms the world has treasured long</div> -<div class="verse">Within me touched the world of song.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Yet brighter than those radiant dreams</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Which won renown that never dies—</div> -<div class="verse">Where more than mortal beauty beams</div> -<div class="verse indent1">In sybil’s lips, and angel’s eyes—</div> -<div class="verse">One image, like the moonlight, seems</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Between them and my heart to rise,</div> -<div class="verse">And in its brighter, dearer ray,</div> -<div class="verse">The stars of Genius fade away.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>It is an interesting study and one not altogether -unprofitable, to follow, through an author’s works the -marks of his peculiar likes, joys, and sorrows. For -in science, philosophy, history or poetry, the feelings -of the student will unguardedly creep into his manuscripts -as if between the lines, and often a little -word, or a thoughtlessly inserted sentence or comment, -will reveal whole chapters of a life which has been -carefully, scrupulously hidden. So in Bayard Taylor’s -poetry, written on sea and on land, at home and -abroad, in poverty and in affluence, there is a certain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> -vein of originality, and certain references to his own -life, which, when placed together, give the clew to his -inner life, and reveal a charming domestic scene, which -cannot be described in prose. One of his characters -in “The Poet’s Journal,” says:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Dear Friend, one volume of your life I read</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Beneath these vines: you placed it in my hand</div> -<div class="verse">And made it mine,—but how the tale has sped</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Since then, I know not, or can understand</div> -<div class="verse">From this fair ending only. Let me see</div> -<div class="verse indent1">The intervening chapters, dark and bright,</div> -<div class="verse">In order, as you lived them.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">To which another makes reply in the words below, -which so delicately and feelingly refer to his early -love, his sorrow at the death of Mary, his first wife, -and the brightness of the later affection. To one who -has passed through the same trying experience, these -lines are marvellously expressive:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“What haps I met, what struggles, what success</div> -<div class="verse">Of fame, or gold, or place, concerns you less,</div> -<div class="verse">Dear friend, than how I lost that sorest load</div> -<div class="verse">I started with, and came to dwell at last</div> -<div class="verse">In the House Beautiful.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“You, who would write ‘<i lang="la">Resurgam</i>’ o’er my dead,</div> -<div class="verse">The resurrection of my heart shall know.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“For pain, that only lives in memory,</div> -<div class="verse">Like battle-scars, it is no pain to show.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Then he goes on to recite a tale so like his own, that -it needs scarce any change, but to substitute the names<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> -of himself, and those he loved, for the fictitious names -we find in the poems. But, before making further -quotation, the reader should be made acquainted with -the circumstances which prompted those illuminated -lines.</p> - -<p>While Mr. Taylor was away, Miss Agnew gradually -and surely declined in health, until consumption, -with all its terrible certainty and serpent-like stealth, -made her its victim. It was one of those unaccountable -visitations which sometimes come to the young and -beautiful in the midst of joy and perfect content. How -sadly the news of her sickness fell upon the heart of -her lover, and how tenderly and anxiously he prayed -and waited for letters from her, which should contain -better tidings, he has himself related. Pale and weak, -she greeted him on his return from California, with the -prediction that she could not live beyond the falling -leaves. No skill, no tender nursing, no charm of an -abiding love, could stay the hand of death, which, as -unseen and secret as the decay in a rose, gradually -stole away her color, her beauty, and her life.</p> - -<p>He felt that he must lose her; and the whole world, -which had before appeared so bright, became dark and -chilly. The test showed that while his ambition led -him to see the great nations of the earth, to write -poems for posterity, and to write his name in italics -on the scrolls of fame, there was one solace, one comfort, -one desire, which included all the others and made -them subservient. He was true to his plighted word.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -He had become noted and prosperous, while she had -remained at the country farm-house in Kennett. He -was the associate of Bryant, Greeley, Webster, and -Willis; she, the companion of the farmers and Quakers -of Chester County. But strong, manly, and honest, -his love knew no abatement and his respect felt no -check.</p> - -<p>It is a touching picture—that simple, solemn marriage -in the room of the patient, an almost helpless invalid! -He came to redeem his pledge; and in that -simple abode, with death standing just outside the -door, with a bride scarce able to whisper that she took -him for her lawful spouse, he became a husband. -The dim, appealing eyes, the tender little flush in her -cheek, the tremor of her thin hand, told the joy in her -pure heart, but showed also that her happiness would -be as brief as it was sincere.</p> - -<p>The marriage took place Oct. 24th, 1850, and on the -21st of the following December his wife died. She -lingered much longer than her friends expected. At -the marriage it was said that she could not live but a -very few days. Yet, so soon was it after their union, -that the day which is usually the happiest and the day -which is usually the gloomiest in a man’s life, came -to him within ten weeks of each other. A year after -her death, he wrote a poem, “Winter Solstice,” in -which he mentions his bereavement:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“—For when the gray autumnal gale</div> -<div class="verse">Came to despoil the dying year,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> -<div class="verse">Passed with the slow retreating sun,</div> -<div class="verse">As day by day some beams depart,</div> -<div class="verse">The beauty and the life of one,</div> -<div class="verse">Whose love made Summer in my heart.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Day after day, the latest flower,</div> -<div class="verse">Her faded being waned away,</div> -<div class="verse">More pale and dim with every hour,—</div> -<div class="verse">And ceased upon the darkest day!</div> -<div class="verse">The warmth and glow that with her died</div> -<div class="verse">No light of coming suns shall bring;</div> -<div class="verse">The heart its wintry gloom may hide,</div> -<div class="verse">But cannot feel a second Spring.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">O darkest day of all the year!</div> -<div class="verse">In vain thou com’st with balmy skies,</div> -<div class="verse">For, blotting out their azure sphere,</div> -<div class="verse">The phantoms of my Fate arise:</div> -<div class="verse">A blighted life, whose shattered plan</div> -<div class="verse">No after fortune can restore;</div> -<div class="verse">The perfect lot, designed for Man,</div> -<div class="verse">That should be mine, but is no more.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Still later, he gave expression to his loneliness in -that most pathetic of all his writings, “The Phantom.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Again I sit within the mansion,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">In the old, familiar seat;</div> -<div class="verse">And shade and sunshine chase each other</div> -<div class="verse indent1">O’er the carpet at my feet.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“And many kind, remembered faces</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Within the doorway come,—</div> -<div class="verse">Voices, that wake the sweeter music</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Of one that now is dumb.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">They sing, in tones as glad as ever,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">The songs she loved to hear;</div> -<div class="verse">They braid the rose in summer garlands,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Whose flowers to her were dear.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">And still, her footsteps in the passage,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Her blushes at the door,</div> -<div class="verse">Her timid words of maiden welcome,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Come back to me once more.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“She stays without, perchance, a moment,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">To dress her dark-brown hair;</div> -<div class="verse">I hear the rustle of her garments,—</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Her light step on the stair!”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“She tarries long: but lo! a whisper</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Beyond the open door,</div> -<div class="verse">And, gliding through the quiet sunshine,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">A shadow on the floor!”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“But my heart grows sick with weary waiting</div> -<div class="verse indent1">As many a time before:</div> -<div class="verse">Her foot is ever at the threshold,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Yet never passes o’er.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>In his “Picture of St. John” he describes, with a -feeling born of experience, a scene like the closing -one in the life of his wife.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse indent12">“Day by day</div> -<div class="verse">Her cheeks grew thin, her footstep faint and slow;</div> -<div class="verse">And yet so fondly, with such hopeful play</div> -<div class="verse">Her pulses beat, they masked the coming woe.</div> -<div class="verse">Joy dwelt with her, and in her eager breath</div> -<div class="verse">His cymbals drowned the hollow drums of death;</div> -<div class="verse">Life showered its promise, surer to betray,</div> -<div class="verse">And the false Future crumbled fast away.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Aye, she was happy! God be thanked for this,</div> -<div class="verse">That she was happy!—happier than she knew,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> -<div class="verse">Had even the hope that cheated her been true;</div> -<div class="verse">For from her face there beamed such wondrous bliss,</div> -<div class="verse">As cannot find fulfilment here, and dies.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Nearer the end of the same poem, he writes:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“With cold and changeless face beside her grave</div> -<div class="verse">I stood, and coldly heard the shuddering sound</div> -<div class="verse">Of coffin-echoes, smothered underground.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">And still later he says, as only he can say who has felt -it:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“My body moved in its mechanic course</div> -<div class="verse">Of soulless function: thought and passion ceased,</div> -<div class="verse">Or blindly stirred with undirected force,—</div> -<div class="verse">A weary trance which only Time decreased</div> -<div class="verse">By slow reductions.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>A sonnet of that dark hour, written on a leaf of -his diary, remains to us, from which we quote two -verses:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Moan, ye wild winds! around the pane,</div> -<div class="verse">And fall, thou drear December rain!</div> -<div class="verse">Fill with your gusts the sullen day,</div> -<div class="verse">Tear the last clinging leaves away!</div> -<div class="verse">Reckless as yonder naked tree,</div> -<div class="verse">No blast of yours can trouble me.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Moan on, ye winds! and pour, thou rain!</div> -<div class="verse">Your stormy sobs and tears are vain,</div> -<div class="verse">If shed for her whose fading eyes,</div> -<div class="verse">Will open soon on Paradise;</div> -<div class="verse">The eye of Heaven shall blinded be,</div> -<div class="verse">Or ere ye cease, if shed for me.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> - -<p>Here is another sad, sad wail, to be found in his -“Autumnal Vespers”:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“The light is dying out o’er all the land,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">And in my heart the light is dying. She,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">My life’s best life, is fading silently</div> -<div class="verse">From Earth, from me, and from the dreams we planned,</div> -<div class="verse">Since first Love led us with his beaming hand</div> -<div class="verse indent1">From hope to hope, yet kept his crown in store.</div> -<div class="verse">The light is dying out o’er all the land:</div> -<div class="verse indent2">To me it comes no more.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">The blossom of my heart, she shrinks away</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Stricken with deadly blight: more wan and weak</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Her love replies in blanching lip and cheek,</div> -<div class="verse">And gentler in her dear eyes, day by day.</div> -<div class="verse">God, in Thy mercy, bid the arm delay,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Which thro’ her being smites to dust my own!</div> -<div class="verse">Thou gav’st the seed Thy sun and showers; why slay</div> -<div class="verse indent2">The blossoms yet unblown?</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">In vain,—in vain! God will not bid the Spring</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Replace with sudden green the Autumn’s gold;</div> -<div class="verse indent1">And as the night-mists, gathering damp and cold,</div> -<div class="verse">Strike up the vales where water-courses sing,</div> -<div class="verse">Death’s mist shall strike along her veins, and cling</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Thenceforth forever round her glorious frame:</div> -<div class="verse">For all her radiant presence, May shall bring</div> -<div class="verse indent2">A memory and a name.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Again, in “The Two Visions,” was the low moan of -a poet’s stricken heart.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Through days of toil, through nightly fears,</div> -<div class="verse">A vision blessed my heart for years;</div> -<div class="verse">And so secure its features grew,</div> -<div class="verse">My heart believed the blessing true.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> -<div class="verse">I saw her there, a household dove,</div> -<div class="verse">In consummated peace of love,</div> -<div class="verse">And sweeter joy and saintlier grace</div> -<div class="verse">Breathed o’er the beauty of her face.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“That vision died, in drops of woe,</div> -<div class="verse">In blotting drops, dissolving slow:</div> -<div class="verse">Now, toiling day and sorrowing night,</div> -<div class="verse">Another vision fills my sight.</div> -<div class="verse">A cold mound in the winter snow;</div> -<div class="verse">A colder heart at rest below;</div> -<div class="verse">A life in utter loneness hurled,</div> -<div class="verse">And darkness over all the world.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>How accurately he portrayed his inner life, from -the death of Mary to his subsequent marriage, can -only be understood by reading his poem of “The -Poet’s Journal” entire. But, as far as brief quotations -may give it, we will try to supply enough for -the purposes of a book suck as this is intended to -be. In his despair he writes:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“And every gift that Life to me had given</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Lies at my feet, in useless fragments trod:</div> -<div class="verse">There is no justice or in Earth or Heaven:</div> -<div class="verse indent1">There is no pity in the heart of God.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse center">...</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“I pine for something human,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Man, woman, young or old—</div> -<div class="verse">Something to meet and welcome,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Something to clasp and hold.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">I have a mouth for kisses,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">But there’s no one to give and take;</div> -<div class="verse">I have a heart in my bosom</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Beating for nobody’s sake.”</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“The sea might rise and drown me,—</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Cliffs fall and crush my head,—</div> -<div class="verse">Were there one to love me, living,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Or weep to see me dead!”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse center">...</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Last night the Tempter came to me, and said:</div> -<div class="verse">‘Why sorrow any longer for the dead?</div> -<div class="verse">The wrong is done: thy tears and groans are naught:</div> -<div class="verse">Forget the Past,—thy pain but lives in thought.</div> -<div class="verse">Night after night, I hear thy cries implore</div> -<div class="verse">An answer: she will answer thee no more.</div> -<div class="verse">Give up thine idle prayer that Death may come</div> -<div class="verse">And thou mayst somewhere find her: Death is dumb</div> -<div class="verse">To those that seek him. Live: for youth is thine.</div> -<div class="verse">Let not thy rich blood, like neglected wine,</div> -<div class="verse">Grow thin and stale, but rouse thyself, at last,</div> -<div class="verse">And take a man’s revenge upon the Past.’”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse center">...</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“This heart is flesh, I cannot make it stone:</div> -<div class="verse indent1">This blood is hot, I cannot stop its flow,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">These arms are vacant—whereso’er I go,</div> -<div class="verse">Love lies in other’s arms and shuns my own.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse center">...</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Long, long ago, the Hand whereat I railed</div> -<div class="verse">In blindness gave me courage to subdue</div> -<div class="verse">This wild revolt: I see wherein I failed:</div> -<div class="verse">My heart was false, when most I thought it true,</div> -<div class="verse">My sorrow selfish, when I thought it pure.</div> -<div class="verse">For those we lose, if still their love endure</div> -<div class="verse">Translation to that other land, where Love</div> -<div class="verse">Breathes the immortal wisdom, ask in heaven</div> -<div class="verse">No greater sacrifice than we had given</div> -<div class="verse">On earth, our love’s integrity to prove.</div> -<div class="verse">If we are blest to know the other blest,</div> -<div class="verse">Then treason lies in sorrow.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse center">...</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“I had knelt, in the awful Presence,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">And covered my guilty head,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -<div class="verse">And received His absolution,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">For my sins toward the dead.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Now first I dare remember</div> -<div class="verse indent1">That day of death and woe:</div> -<div class="verse">Within, the dreadful silence,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Without, the sun and snow.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse center">...</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“When wild azaleas deck the knoll,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">And cinque-foil stars the fields of home,</div> -<div class="verse">And winds, that take the white-weed, roll</div> -<div class="verse indent1">The meadows into foam:</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Then from the jubilee I turn</div> -<div class="verse indent1">To other Mays that I have seen,</div> -<div class="verse">Where more resplendent blossoms burn,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">And statelier woods are green;—</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Mays, when my heart expanded first,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">A honeyed blossom, fresh with dew;</div> -<div class="verse">And one sweet wind of heaven dispersed</div> -<div class="verse indent1">The only clouds I knew.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">For she, whose softly-murmured name</div> -<div class="verse indent1">The music of the month expressed,</div> -<div class="verse">Walked by my side, in holy shame</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Of girlish love confessed.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“The old, old tale of girl and boy,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Repeated ever, never old:</div> -<div class="verse">To each in turn the gates of joy,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">The gates of heaven unfold.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse center">...</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“So I think, when days are sweetest,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">And the world is wholly fair,</div> -<div class="verse">She may sometime steal upon me</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Through the dimness of the air,</div> -<div class="verse">With the cross upon her bosom</div> -<div class="verse indent1">And the amaranth in her hair.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> -<div class="verse">Once to meet her, ah! to meet her,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">And to hold her gently fast</div> -<div class="verse">Till I blessed her, till she blessed me,—</div> -<div class="verse indent1">That were happiness, at last:</div> -<div class="verse">That were bliss beyond our meetings</div> -<div class="verse indent1">In the autumns of the Past!”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse center">...</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Still, still that lovely ghost appears,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Too fair, too pure, to bid depart;</div> -<div class="verse">No riper love of later years</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Can steal its beauty from the heart.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Dear, boyish heart that trembled so</div> -<div class="verse indent1">With bashful fear and fond unrest,—</div> -<div class="verse">More frightened than a dove, to know</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Another bird within its nest!”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse center">...</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Restored and comforted, I go</div> -<div class="verse indent1">To grapple with my tasks again;</div> -<div class="verse">Through silent worship taught to know</div> -<div class="verse indent1">The blessed peace that follows pain.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse center">...</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“If Love should come again, I ask my heart</div> -<div class="verse indent1">In tender tremors, not unmixed with pain,</div> -<div class="verse">Couldst thou be calm, nor feel thine ancient smart,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">If Love should come again?”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Couldst thou unbar the chambers where his nest</div> -<div class="verse indent1">So long was made, and made, alas! in vain,</div> -<div class="verse">Nor with embarrassed welcome chill thy guest,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">If Love should come again?”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse center">...</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Have I passed through Death’s unconscious birth,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">In a dream the midnight bare?</div> -<div class="verse">I look on another and fairer Earth:</div> -<div class="verse indent1">I breathe a wondrous air!”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Is it she that shines, as never before,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">The tremulous hills above,—</div> -<div class="verse">Or the heart within me, awake once more</div> -<div class="verse indent1">To the dawning light of love?”</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Bathed in the morning, let my heart surrender</div> -<div class="verse indent1">The doubts that darkness gave,</div> -<div class="verse">And rise to meet the advancing splendor—</div> -<div class="verse indent1">O Night! no more thy slave.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse center">...</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“One thought sits brooding in my bosom,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">As broodeth in her nest the dove;</div> -<div class="verse">A strange, delicious doubt o’ercomes me,—</div> -<div class="verse indent3">But is it love?”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“I see her, hear her, daily, nightly:</div> -<div class="verse indent1">My secret dreams around her move,</div> -<div class="verse">Still nearer drawn in sweet attraction;—</div> -<div class="verse indent3">Can this be love?”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“I breathe but peace when she is near me,—</div> -<div class="verse indent1">A peace her absence takes away:</div> -<div class="verse">My heart commands her constant presence;</div> -<div class="verse indent3">Will hers obey?”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse center">...</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“‘Canst thou forgive me, Angel mine,’</div> -<div class="verse indent1">I cried: ‘that Love at last beguiled</div> -<div class="verse">My heart to build a second shrine?</div> -<div class="verse">See, still I kneel and weep at thine,</div> -<div class="verse">But I am human, thou divine!’</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Still silently she smiled.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“‘Dost undivided worship claim,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">To keep thine altar undefiled?</div> -<div class="verse">Or must I bear thy tender blame,</div> -<div class="verse">And in thy pardon feel my shame,</div> -<div class="verse">Whene’er I breathe another name?’</div> -<div class="verse indent1">She looked at me, and smiled.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse center">...</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“No treason in my love I see,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">For treason cannot dwell with truth:</div> -<div class="verse">But later blossoms crown a tree</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Too deeply set to die in youth.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">The blighted promise of the old</div> -<div class="verse indent1">In this new love is reconciled;</div> -<div class="verse">For, when my heart confessed its hold,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">The lips of ancient sorrow smiled!</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">It brightens backward through the Past</div> -<div class="verse indent1">And gilds the gloomy path I trod,</div> -<div class="verse">And forward, till it fades at last</div> -<div class="verse indent1">In light, before the feet of God,</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Where stands the saint, whose radiant brow</div> -<div class="verse indent1">This solace beams, while I adore:</div> -<div class="verse">Be happy: if thou lovedst not now,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Thou never couldst have loved before!”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse center">...</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Would she, my freedom and my bliss to know,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">With my disloyalty be reconciled,</div> -<div class="verse">And from her bower in Eden look below,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">And bless the Soldan’s child?</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">For she is lost: but she, the later bride,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Who came my ruined fortune to restore,</div> -<div class="verse">Back from the desert wanders at my side,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">And leads me home once more.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">If human love, she sighs, could move a wife</div> -<div class="verse indent1">The holiest sacrifice of love to make,</div> -<div class="verse">Then the transfigured angel of thy life</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Is happier for thy sake!”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse center">...</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“‘It was our wedding-day</div> -<div class="verse">A month ago,’ dear heart, I hear you say.</div> -<div class="verse">If months, or years, or ages since have passed,</div> -<div class="verse">I know not: I have ceased to question Time.</div> -<div class="verse">I only know that once there pealed a chime</div> -<div class="verse">Of joyous bells, and then I held you fast,</div> -<div class="verse">And all stood back, and none my right denied,</div> -<div class="verse">And forth we walked: the world was free and wide</div> -<div class="verse">Before us. Since that day</div> -<div class="verse">I count my life: The Past is washed away.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>Grief and Despair.—Describes his Feelings.—Failing Health.—Severe -Mental Labor.—Decides to go to Africa.—Visits Vienna.—Arrival -at Alexandria.—Sails up the Nile.—Scenes in -Cairo.—The Pyramids.—The Lovely Nile.—An Important and -Pleasant Acquaintance.—A Lasting Friendship.—Learning the -Language.—Assuming the Costume.—Sights by the Way.</p> - -</div> - -<p>The great grief which Mr. Taylor felt when his wife -died, was so deep and keen that he was for many -months unreconciled, and in a mental state somewhat -akin to despair. His appearance among his friends, -whether at Kennett or in the office of the “Tribune” at -New York, did not, however, betray his feelings so -much as his private correspondence and occasional -poems. He was the sincerest of mourners; and his -natural susceptibility to every shade of emotion -made this severe bereavement an occasion of untold -suffering. In his endeavors to banish the gloomy -spectre, he resorted to hard work. Hence, the first -half of the year 1851 was one of the busiest seasons -of his life. He wrote early and late. He composed -poems and essays, wrote editorials, and edited correspondence, -some of it being the labor attached to his -profession, but a great share of it written to occupy -his mind and shut out his affliction.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> - -<p>His “Rhymes of Travel,” which had been published -after his return from California, called the attention of -the reading public to him as a poet, and there was a -strong demand for another volume. His friends urged -him to write, his uneasy heart pushed him into work, -and the newspapers kept questioning him about -the advent of a second volume, until he decided to -bring out his book of “Romances, Lyrics, and Songs.” -There was one poem in that volume which was very -sweet when wholly disconnected with history, but -which becomes fascinating and sad as Milton’s lament -for his eyesight, when we once know the circumstances -and the mental condition in which it was written. Two -verses of that poem were printed, as follows:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Give me music, sad and strong,</div> -<div class="verse">Drawn from deeper founts than song;</div> -<div class="verse">More impassioned, full, and free,</div> -<div class="verse">Than the poet’s numbers be:</div> -<div class="verse">Music which can master thee,</div> -<div class="verse">Stern enchantress, Memory!</div> -<div class="verse">Piercing through the gloomy stress</div> -<div class="verse">Of thy gathered bitterness,</div> -<div class="verse">As the summer lightnings play</div> -<div class="verse">Through a cloud’s edge far away.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Give me music; I am dumb;</div> -<div class="verse">Choked with tears that never come;</div> -<div class="verse">Give me music; sigh or word</div> -<div class="verse">Such a sorrow never stirred,—</div> -<div class="verse">Sorrow that with blinding pain</div> -<div class="verse">Lies like fire on heart and brain.</div> -<div class="verse">Earth and heaven bring no relief,</div> -<div class="verse">I am dumb; this weight of grief</div> -<div class="verse">Locks my lips; I cannot cry:</div> -<div class="verse">Give me music, or I die.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was then that he wrote those pathetic lines, so full -of his sadness and so descriptive of his bereavement, -that he was never satisfied with a name for them and -finally left them without a title, the first couplet of -which sufficiently indicates the tenor,—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Moan, ye wild winds! around the pane,</div> -<div class="verse">And fall, thou drear December rain!”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Such a sorrowful heart and such an overworked -brain were too great a load for one human body to carry. -His physical strength had never been remarkable, -and there had been seasons before his visit to Europe -when his health seemed permanently impaired. So -when this great strain was made upon his system it -began to weaken. To continue the effort was suicidal, -and stoutly condemned by his relatives and friends. -He then recalled his exhilarating walks among the -Alps and on the plains of Europe. He kindled anew -his zeal for adventure. He studied the map of the -world to decide where was presented the most favorable -field for discovery. He wished for rest from -sorrow, and rest from close application to literary -work. Such a relief could only be found in a climate -and among a people wholly different from his own. -In this choice he was guided somewhat by a fortunate -opportunity to cross the Atlantic as a guest and friend, -and by the accounts which a literary companion in the -office of the “Tribune” gave of the interesting people -and scenery along the coast of Palestine and Greece.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> - -<p>The winter had passed and the soothing winds of -summer seemed so grateful and necessary, that he -decided to pass the next winter on the Mediterranean, -should his health admit of the necessary outlay of -strength. In writing about that undertaking afterwards, -he said a trip into Africa would furnish good -material for a travelling correspondent and hence that -continent was selected. “But,” he said, “there were -other influences acting upon me which I did not fully -comprehend at the time, and cannot now describe -without going too deeply into matters of private -history.” But while in Central Africa, enjoying the -invigorating breezes along the Nile, he reveals a part of -that private history by an incidental exclamation published -in a letter to the “Tribune.” “Oh! what a rest -is this from the tantalizing and sorrowful suggestions -of civilization.” He fled from sorrow—driven into the -desert.</p> - -<p>Having reached Smyrna, on the coast of Asia Minor, -by the overland route to Constantinople <i lang="la">via</i> Vienna, -he re-embarked at that port for Alexandria in Egypt, -arriving at the latter place Nov. 1, 1851. We shall -not attempt here to give in any satisfactory detail -the record of his wanderings in Africa, as they -are so charmingly and instructively told in the book -which he wrote concerning them, and as no book of -travel in Egypt, except a scientific work, can supplant -or equal the many which already honor our shelves. -The writer having been over a large portion of Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> -Taylor’s routes, and feeling much indebted to him -for his works, which were often used as guides, -has perhaps a greater interest in recording his travels, -than the reader would have in going through the story -a second time. Hence, for the purposes of this outline -sketch of Mr. Taylor’s life, we shall introduce only -such incidents and facts connected with his wanderings -as appear to have some direct or unusual bearing upon -his character, or which display some peculiarity of his -genius or taste.</p> - -<p>He said, in a letter to a friend in New York, that he -“owed a debt of gratitude” to the Providence which -led him, to the country which attracted him, and to the -vessel which carried him from Smyrna to Alexandria. -That sentiment was awakened in his heart by the way -in which some of the important events in his after life -pointed back to that trip and to the valuable friend he -met there. Mr. Taylor was of a genial, approachable -nature, and easily made the acquaintance of any person -whom he met. But having German blood in his veins, -loving the German language, and entertaining a sincere -respect for German literature, he naturally sought the -company of the German people. On the very threshold -of this trip into Africa he made the acquaintance of a -German gentleman, whose culture and geniality made -him a great acquisition in a strange land. They seem -to have taken a deep interest in each other from the -first time they met. It may be because their condition -in life, socially and circumstantially, was so similar;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> -but the more reasonable explanation is found in their -similar tastes and equal regard for the works of genius -and the beauties of nature. It will be like a romance, -when told in all its detail, as it might be now, and will -be when the present generation passes away. How little -could his human understanding comprehend the great -results turning upon the simple, common-place self-introduction -to a German travelling companion! This -friend, whom he met, and with whom he made the journey -up to the cataracts of the Nile, was perhaps as -remarkable a man as Taylor, and belonged to a family -of scholars and long respected agricultural citizens of -the German principality of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha.</p> - -<p>The chief merit of Mr. Taylor’s descriptions lay in -their apparent frankness and their charming details. -He appeared to think that every reader was acquainted -with the works of those great archæologists, Lepsius -and Champollion, and did not attempt to supply to -his readers the information they had already given. -He seems to have imagined that all the reading public -wished to follow him, and he gave such information as -the tourist would need. He told about the clothes he -purchased in Alexandria, about the fit of his Arab attire, -about the cost of a dinner, the conversation between -dragomen and boatmen, the personal appearance of his -companions, the faithlessness of his guide, the dirty -appearance of his boat, and the gorgeous sunset. He -described his own sensations and actions with the -boldness of one unconscious of any motive to conceal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -or deceive. He reveals the sorrow of his heart by -occasional remarks such as these: “For many months -past I had known no mood of mind so peaceful and -grateful.”—“I am away from reminders of sorrow.”—“It -is not the beauty of the desert that gratifies me so -much, in these days, after all, as the absence of civilization.”</p> - -<p>The party, which consisted of Mr. Taylor, the German -companion, and an Italian, engaged one of the -Nile boats, at Alexandria, for the trip up the Nile, and -after testing the comforts, or misery, of the Egyptian -hotels, seeing Cleopatra’s Needle (now in London) -and Pompey’s Pillar, which were then as in later years -about all that there was to be seen of interest in Alexandria, -they started on their lazy voyage up the wonderful -Nile. He wrote with great enthusiasm of the -sweet rest he found in a pipe of tobacco, after the manner -of all habitual smokers. He seems to have had -plenty of time to muse and smoke as he slowly ascended -the stream. It has often been a subject of wonder -that he could afterwards remember so many incidents -and the impressions they had made on him, when perhaps -weeks of time and some more exciting transactions -had intervened. But Mr. Taylor did not wait long before -recording his ideas and comments, and was in the -habit of keeping a memoranda-book always at hand, -and while travelling, noted with a pencil any peculiar -thought or incident which awakened attention.</p> - -<p>At Atfeh, which has been for hundreds of years an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> -intermediate stopping-place on the highway and river -between Alexandria and Cairo, he clambered up into -the town and witnessed a marriage procession. He -appears to have been inclined to get a near view of the -bride; but the relatives hurried her off, and with cries -and threatening gestures drove him back to cover. -But he decided that if he could not see the bride, he -would do the next best thing, and accordingly visited -her father. The disconsolate parent was being comforted -by a hoarse chant and appeared to be as cheerful -as could be expected considering the din.</p> - -<p>At the town of Nadir he went into a low mud hut, -which pretended to be a cafe, and there saw the Egyptian -fandango danced by the inmates. He records the -shape and sound of the musical instruments and with -polished and concise language pictured the scene to -the reader’s eye. This, with the accounts of the improvements, -rates of toll, and the manner of passing -the boats by locks, and government officials, with many -minor details is told in a manner which, notwithstanding -the dryness of the subject, makes most fascinating -reading.</p> - -<p>But he counted his entrance into Cairo, the capital -of Egypt, as the actual beginning of his tour into -Africa. For at Alexandria and along the Nile as far -as Bourak the people exhibited some traits which connect -them with the civilized West. But Cairo is -wholly Egyptian. The centuries have made no apparent -changes in the people. The donkeys, the veiled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> -women, the fierce Arabs, the water-skins, the fountains, -the slaves, the palms, the white domes, and the low -shops revive the historical associations and personify -the Past. Like an oasis in the adjacent desert was the -Hotel d’Europe. But it served to impress the reality -of these surroundings more forcibly upon the travellers. -With a readiness and enjoyment which his companions -did not share, he accustomed himself to the manners -and appearance of the people, and it was scarcely a -day before Mr. Taylor would smoke his perfumed chibouk, -sit cross-legged, and eat with his fingers like a -native Arab. He rode the little donkeys as well as -any citizen of Cairo, and was even more reckless than -they, if that were possible, as he rode through the market-places -at a furious speed. The Egyptians, like the -Germans, Italians, French, Hungarians, and Syrians, -felt a kind of fellowship for Mr. Taylor, and admired -his good-sense in appreciating and adopting so many -of their customs. He was the acquaintance and confidential -friend of a dozen old Arabs before he had been -two days in Cairo. He was a lover of mankind. He -sympathized with them all. As the Shereef of Mecca -rides by, Mr. Taylor admires his dignity and his imposing -retinue. As a marriage procession files through -the streets, he comments on the playing of the flutes, -the crimson robes of the bride, and the diadem, with -the simplicity of a country maiden in America. He -enjoys the athletic tricks of the showmen, the skill of -the swordsmen, the voices of the singers, the zeal of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> -the beggars, and the endurance of the laborers. He is -one of the same human family. They know it, and feel -it, and he is welcome.</p> - -<p>The German acquaintance, who had not intended to -go farther than Cairo, was so delighted with Mr. Taylor’s -companionship and Mr. Taylor was so interested in -him, that he decided to go up the Nile as far as Assouan, -which was on the border of the Central African countries. -Mr. Taylor speaks with sentiments of enthusiastic -thankfulness of his good fortune in thus securing -a travelling companion, whose tastes and sentiments -were so akin to his own. He little thought then, that -while trying to shut out his sorrow by voluntary exile, -he was opening the door to a second love. Mr. Taylor’s -singular admiration and love for his companion is -almost unaccountable, unless we adopt some theory of -foreordination or providential design.</p> - -<p>A most interesting, amusing, and friendly trip they -had up the stream, for thousands of years so historic, -in a boat manned by ten boatmen, and of which they -were the commanders. Neither of them had ever been -in Egypt before, but their maps and guide-books, -coupled with their early historical training, made the -localities along their route seem more familiar to them -than to the dragomen, who made it a business to guide -travellers. They named their boat the “Cleopatra,” -ran up the Stars and Stripes to the peak, and, with -contented minds but active brains, enjoyed to the full -the strange scenes and historic ruins which showed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> -themselves on every hand. They first visited the Pyramids, -where Mr. Taylor gratified his taste for climbing -heights, and nearly killed himself by rushing down. -With characteristic regard for those who were to -come after him, Mr. Taylor rebuked the importunities -of the backsheesh-loving Arabs about the Pyramids, -and obtaining no satisfaction from them, he reported -them to the chief, who compelled the greedy desperadoes -to submit to a severe whipping.</p> - -<p>They visited ancient Memphis, which the French -explorer, Mariette, was then exhuming, and trod the -pavements over which had passed the feet of Menes, -Amasis, Pharaoh, Strabo, and Cambyses. They were -hospitably entertained by the great antiquarian, and -felt that such a visit was ample reward for all their -outlay. From Memphis they proceeded to Siout, and -on the way talked, composed, and sung the praises of -Father Nile. It may be that Mr. Taylor’s mood, which -he so often mentions, had an influence upon his taste, -or it may be that the season was one peculiarly adapted -to the exhibition of beauty in the Nile, but the writer, -in a later year, was not so charmed by the scenery and -river as Mr. Taylor appears to have been. No other -traveller has written such glowing encomiums upon the -Nile as Mr. Taylor recorded in his letters, and either -he appreciated nature more than other travellers, or -there was something in his circumstances which placed -a halo of beauty about the palms and meadows. In -the “Nilotic Drinking-Song” Mr. Taylor said:—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Cloud never gave birth, nor cradle the Earth,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">To river so grand and fair as this is:</div> -<div class="verse">Not the waves that roll us the gold of Pactolus,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Nor cool Cephissus, nor classic Ilissus.</div> -<div class="verse indent5">The lily may dip</div> -<div class="verse indent5">Her ivory lip,</div> -<div class="verse">To kiss the ripples of clear Eurotas;</div> -<div class="verse indent5">But the Nile brings balm</div> -<div class="verse indent5">From the myrr and palm,</div> -<div class="verse">And the ripe, voluptuous lips of the lotus.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">The waves that ride on his mighty tide</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Were poured from the urns of unvisited mountains;</div> -<div class="verse">And their sweets of the South mingle cool in the mouth,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">With the freshness and sparkle of Northern fountains.</div> -<div class="verse indent5">Again and again</div> -<div class="verse indent5">The goblet we drain—</div> -<div class="verse">Diviner a stream never Nereid swam on:</div> -<div class="verse indent5">For Isis and Orus</div> -<div class="verse indent5">Have quaffed before us,</div> -<div class="verse">And Ganymede dipped it for Jupiter Ammon.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>His admiration was not spasmodic, for he always -mentioned the Nile as the most majestic of rivers. To -the majority of travellers, however, the hoary ruins of -mighty cities, the tombs of priests, and the pyramids -of kings are so much more exciting and mysterious, -that the Nile is itself of secondary importance.</p> - -<p>Yet, Mr. Taylor, with all his interest in the river, -did not have less in the celebrated localities and ancient -remains. He ascended many honeycombed mountains, -to creep among the bones of men who lived thirty-five -hundred years ago. He gazed with a yearning interest -upon the broken columns of unknown temples, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> -dreamed of their former grandeur, while apathetically -overseeing the affairs of his little monarchy over which -he kept floating the Stars and Stripes. He became so -absorbed in the climate, the people, and the history of -the land, that he soon adopted the full costume of the -country and became henceforth an Arab with the -others. He was marvellously quick in picking up the -words and phrases of any language, and soon, with the -aid of a small phrase-book, he could readily converse -with the natives along the shore. These characteristics -made it safe and pleasant for him to travel where many -others would have found only misery and death.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>Moslem Worship.—Scenery of the Nile.—Fellowship with the -People.—The Temple of Dendera.—Mr. Taylor’s Enthusiasm.—Luxor.—Karnak.—The -Extent of Ancient Thebes.—The -Tombs and Statues.—The Natives.—Arrives at Assouan.—The -Island of Philæ,—Separation of the Friends.—Starts -for the White Nile.—Trip through the Desert.—Again -on the Nile.—Reception by the People and Officials.—Visits -Ancient Meroe.</p> - -</div> - -<p>Mr. Taylor’s sympathy with all mankind led him to -regard with sincere respect the daily religious ceremonies -which his Moslem boatmen performed, with their -faces toward Mecca. He often mentioned their punctuality -and apparent sincerity, and contrasted it with -some of the formal, half-hearted proceedings in some -Christian churches. His regard for conscientious worship, -which appeared to characterize the ignorant Arabs, -appears more striking to persons who have travelled -the same route over which Mr. Taylor went, for it is -so common a sight to see bigoted, conceited Europeans -ridiculing the prostrations, prayers, and gestures of -the worshippers. The writer most keenly regrets -having been compelled to witness the caricaturing of -a Moslem at prayer, by a coarse, hard-hearted, brutal -Christian countryman, while the sad and shocked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -believers in Mahomet stood by, scarce able to resist the -temptation to throw the Frank into the Nile. In the -lovable, noble character of Mr. Taylor, there was no -inclination to ridicule the conscientious belief of any -man, and instinctively he kept silent and patiently -endured the delay when the call to prayer took his -employees from their labor. In return for his sincere -regard for them, he received the love and most faithful -service of the natives. They stole nothing from -him. They shielded him from enemies and affectionately -cared for his health.</p> - -<p>Thus, with friends for boatmen, an admirer for -a guide, and a most agreeable comrade for a travelling -companion, he floated along, inhaling from every -breeze the essence of health and comfort. The banks -were covered with the richest and rarest verdure, for -it was the Egyptian spring. There were luxuriant -grasses, palms and sugar-cane; there flourished wheat, -cotton, maize, hemp, indigo, tobacco, oranges, olives, -and dates, springing from the richest soil which -civilized man has yet seen. Harvests came and went -in confused succession; the ripe fruit with blossom; -threshing-floors piled with ripe dourra, while around, -the new wheat seeking the sunlight, betokened -a bounty munificent and inexhaustible. So prolific -and speedy was the growth of the crops that the people -could not, with their rude implements, avail themselves -of the full benefits of one harvest before its rank -successors forced them to turn their labor into other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -channels. Then, as now, the fields, for miles inland -from the river, were checkered with canals, and the -rude water-wheel and awkward “well-sweep” were -kept in constant motion to supply the vast amount of -water necessary to the irrigation of hundreds of square -miles. There were goats, mules, horses, and a variety -of fowl, and in the wild nooks a grand collection of -birds of the gayest songs and plumage. The sky was -clear, the air balmy, the breezes cool and light, the -cabin of their boat was spacious, and their beds comfortable. -It was “a soothing experience for an aching -heart.”</p> - -<p>In the first week of December they arrived at Dendera, -where stands in majestic completeness one of the -most ancient temples of Egypt. It has for thousands -of years been half buried in the earth, and at one time -must have been nearly hid by the shifting sands of the -desert which once surrounded the pile. The impression -which the gigantic columns, sixty feet high, and -the enormous blocks of stone, eight feet thick, gave to -them, is doubtless shared in some degree by all travellers. -As he walked through the shadowy recesses, -each aperture seeming like a deep cave in a rocky -mountain, he was filled with a solemn sense of awe -and sadness, which so overwhelmed him that he -peered about the avenues in silence, and involuntarily -stood on tip-toe. The sombre grandeur of the massive -masonry, the sacred associations connected with -the ancient worship of Osiris and Isis, the wonderful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -tales of wars, tyrannies, famines, plagues, Rameses, -Moses, Pharaoh, Alexander, Ptolemy, Cambyses, and -Napoleon, which those lofty statues could tell if their -symmetrical lips could speak, awaken indescribable -emotions, deep, thrilling, and permanent. Mr. Taylor -saw a grace and an artistic merit in the stone figures, -and in the hieroglyphics that adorned the temple, -which few travellers detect or admit. To many -travellers the figures on those old porches and halls -seem rude and often out of proportion, and the writer -confesses to having been one of the latter class. But -Mr. Taylor’s appreciating scrutiny may be accounted -for on the basis that with his poetical instincts and -thorough culture in art, there were beauties in those -works of ancient sculptors, latent to others, but apparent -and striking to him. But there is no disagreement -as to the unspeakable solemnity of the place and the -gloom of its lonely halls.</p> - -<p>The next night they reached Luxor, and caught the -first glimpse of those interesting ruins by moonlight. -There, silent and stately, arose the great Colonnade. -There, quietly recalling the ancients, stood the twin -Obelisk to the one at which Mr. Taylor had often -looked in the Place de la Concorde in Paris, when as a -boy he dreamed of distant Egypt. For seven miles -around the Temple of Luxor are the ruins of ancient -Thebes, within which were once the temples of Karnak, -Luxor, Goorneh, Memnonium, and hundreds -more, which now cumber the otherwise fertile plains.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> -Thebes, with its hundred gates, with its countless -armies, with its wise men, its Colossus that sang in the -morning sunlight, its avenues of sphinxes and gods in -stone, lay broken, spurned, and dead before them. The -same moon looked down on them that gazed on the priests -of Isis and the palace of its Cæsars. No one can imagine -anything so solemn and grand as to stand in the moonlight -on the haunted plains of ancient Thebes! One -may have thought the Coliseum at Rome impressive -beyond description when seen in the favorable light of -an autumn moon, but when compared with Thebes it -is tame and insignificant. Ages and ages before the -rape of the Sabines, these temples had been constructed. -They saw the morning of civilization; but now they -are ruined and useless, the night seems best fitted for -an appreciative view of them. Among the mighty -colonnades whose columns are broken and falling, and -around gigantic remains of ancient statues carved from -a mountain of stone, Mr. Taylor wandered for two -whole days. He scrutinized closely the long rows of -ancient tombs, and stood in the rocky grave of Rameses -I. The pictures on the walls of the tombs, the -kind of rock, the original shape of the temples, the -employments of the ancient races, the blue sky overhead, -the clear atmosphere around, together with -sketches of history and poetical allusions, shared in -the interesting letters which Mr. Taylor wrote from -Thebes. Such scenes contain an inspiration and an -education which make scholars and statesmen of such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> -as love history and appreciate the lessons those ruins -teach. To one of Mr. Taylor’s disposition, a visit to -such a place was a privilege not to be lightly thrown -away. He investigated everything, and in a manner -bordering on recklessness he descended through small -holes into dark subterranean tombs, and with equal hardihood -walked the crumbling roofs and cornices of the -lofty ruins. He looked with disgust on the evidences -of spoliations which were to be seen in splintered -columns and fragments of ancient frescoes, and which -were the work of scientific explorers. He regarded -with a jealous anxiety the evidences of vandalism and -decay, and wished sincerely that time and man -would allow those precious relics of the old régime to -remain forever intact. He appears to have regarded -those massive wrecks as half-human, and sympathized -with their forsaken and friendless condition.</p> - -<p>But in all this antiquarian excitement, which usually -occupies the undivided attention of less enthusiastic -travellers, Mr. Taylor neglected not the living. He -witnessed with interest the graces of the Arabian -dancing-girls, noticed the features of the beggar-boys, -the methods of teaching children the Koran, and the -worn appearance of the water-carriers.</p> - -<p>Leaving Luxor, they spent three or four days ascending -the river to Assouan, and in visiting the villages, -old temples, half-buried cities, and gorgeously -decorated tombs in the mountain-sides, which are -almost numberless in the valley of Upper Egypt. At<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> -Assouan, he was most cordially received by the Governor -and was given a friendly greeting by all the -officials he met. From that town he made several -excursions with his German friend, the most interesting -of which was that to the cataract of the Nile and -the island of Philæ. There he saw the celebrated -temple of the time of the Ptolemies, which he looked -upon as modern, because it was not over twenty-two -hundred years old. But he felt sufficient interest in -the ruins of the old city to describe that marvellous -colonnade which has astonished so many visitors to the -island of Philæ. The reader of his letters can detect, -however, in Mr. Taylor’s description of columns, -aisles, roofs, walls, capitals, sculptures, monoliths, -and colossi, a vein of sadness which may have colored -his views. At all events the ruins of Philæ did not -impress him as they seem to have affected other visitors. -The fact that he was so soon to part with a -companion for whom he felt a love like that of Jonathan -for David, may have had more or less influence -upon his capacity to enjoy scenery or the remains -of antiquity: for the writer looked upon Philæ as -one of the most interesting localities of the lower Nile, -and cannot but regard the ruined temple as one of the -grandest in Egypt. They visited the fields, villages, -the tombs, the ancient quarry, wherein half-sculptured -statues and columns still remain unmoved, and after a -day of antiquarian research they rode back to their -boat, as he said “with heavy hearts.” The next day<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> -came the hour of parting; and these two men, one a -young man, the other an elderly gentleman, who had -been utter strangers forty days before, now clung to -each other with the sincerest brotherly love and -parted in tears. How little did Mr. Taylor think, as -he saw the boat sailing away for Cairo with the Saxe-Coburg -colors at the peak, where he had so long kept -the Stars and Stripes, that they would meet again in -the sunny southern lands of Europe, and that another -person would join their company for life and make up -what he termed “a sacred triad.” He thought then that -the parting might be for all time. He was going into -an unknown wilderness, while his friend sought again -the lands of civilization: it was a long time before -either could dispel the gloom which their separation -left about them.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus7"> -<img src="images/illus7.jpg" width="700" height="410" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">PHILÆ COLONNADE.</p> -</div> - -<p>Mr. Taylor took another boat at Assouan and proceeded -to Korosko, where, with the assistance of the -Governor and a wild Arab chieftain, whose friendship -was purchased by presents and sociability, he secured -the necessary camels and outfit for a trip across the -desert. It was a hazardous undertaking for a stranger, -alone, unknown, to traverse the desert. If he was -murdered, none of the authorities would care, nor -would his death become known. He might contract -the terrible fever. He was liable to be eaten by wild -beasts, and he ran great risk of dying of thirst or hunger -on the hot sands of a trackless desert. The way -had been travelled many times before, but was all the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -more dangerous because of the opportunity it gave -robbers to lie in wait for tourists. But he unhesitatingly -entered upon the journey, trusting in the friendship -of his Nubian and Arabian servants, and in his -own ability to withstand the heat of the sands and the -attacks of African fever. Camping in the desert -sands, riding a dromedary in the scorching sun, living -upon rudely prepared food, drinking lukewarm water, -with the sight of bones and carcasses by the way to -warn him, and the occasional appearance of sickly returning -caravans to dishearten him, he passed that arm -of the desert between the first cataract of the Nile and -Abou-Hammed. Thence his little caravan of six camels -followed the winding river to a small town, El -Mekheyref, where he dismissed his friendly companions, -excepting one, who had accompanied him from Cairo, -and set sail again on the Nile. Everywhere he was -received with kindness and hospitality by the natives -and by the Governors. His servants were so much -interested in his welfare that they told the natives that -he was a high official in the country from which he -came, and he was treated with the respect the Eastern -people think is due to persons of high rank. All disclaimers -from him were considered to be actuated by -feelings of modesty and elevated him in the estimation -of his entertainers.</p> - -<p>His visit to Meroe was an interesting episode in his -long pilgrimage, although he did not make such diligent -search as an antiquarian among its crumbling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> -walls as he had done in some of the other ancient cities. -Yet his descriptions of that place are most vivid pictures -and convey an idea of the topography of the -capital of that ancient kingdom in a manner most -readable to the stranger and very important to students -of history.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>From Meroe to Khartoum.—Twenty-seventh Birth-day.—Desire -to Explore Central Africa.—Ascent of the White Nile.—Adventure -with the Savage Shillooks.—Visits the Natives.—Return -to Khartoum.—Crossing the Desert.—Parting with -Friends.—Descent of the Nile.—Arrival at Cairo.</p> - -</div> - -<p>The journey from Meroe to Khartoum on the Ethiopian -Nile, Mr. Taylor enjoyed very much, having little -to do but amuse the sailors and be in turn amused -with stories of Mohammed, of Haroun-al-Raschid, and -the oriental wonders contained in songs and traditions. -The climate gave him health, his genial good-nature -brought him friends, and his experience would supply -the necessities of life in after years. There were narrow -escapes from animals, men, and treacherous rapids; -but he had become accustomed to such things, and -assumed enough of the Arab character to exclaim with -them, at each escape, “It is the will of Allah.” The -day before he arrived at Khartoum was Mr. Taylor’s -twenty-seventh birthday.</p> - -<p>Having letters to many of the officials of Khartoum, -which was a military and trading station at the junction -of the Blue and the White Nile, he received a cordial -welcome, which made him feel at once that he was -among friends. He was then at the extreme outskirts<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> -of civilization. All beyond was dark and unknown. -Trading caravans consisting of Arabs and natives often -visited the interior, and small boats frequently went -farther up the Nile for purposes of traffic. But there -was little known about the people, the topography -of the country, or of the course of the Nile. There -was a Catholic mission at Khartoum, where the missionaries -treated Mr. Taylor with great consideration -and kindness. Some of them had made exploring -excursions into the wilds of Central Africa, and it was -his hope that he could get into some expedition with -them during that season. But in that he was disappointed. -None of the missionaries were intending to -visit the tribes to the south that season, and no other -suitable opportunity presented itself. He did not give -up the hope of seeing the unexplored regions of the -interior, until he had exhausted every means in his -power for procuring a fit escort. The unfortunate combination -of circumstances, which prevented him from -searching for the sources of the Nile, postponed the -revelations which he would have made, until they were -unfolded by another newspaper correspondent, H. M. -Stanley.</p> - -<p>So persistent was Mr. Taylor in his purpose to travel -beyond the boundaries of the known, that he resolved -to go up the White Nile alone, except a few servants. -He had met Captain Peele, whose accounts of the curiosities -to be found farther inland made him the more -anxious to get a glimpse beyond. So he hired a boat,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> -and amid the doubts of his servants and the misgivings -of his new-found friends, he set sail up the White Nile. -He could not hire the boatmen for a long voyage, as -they feared the fierce cannibals of the interior, and as -they were going beyond the protection of any military -force. Trusting to his persuasive powers, he started -with them, deciding to go just as far as he could get -them to accompany him.</p> - -<p>On a lone river, where no other sail was to be seen; -in a wilderness, where even the human beings were as -the lions and hyenas; with no friend of his own race -near him, he sailed on, in confidence, never seeming to -think that he might die there alone and never be heard -of by his relatives again. Crocodiles, hippopotami, -and giraffes flourished there, and man was the plaything -of both elements and beasts. Through the -wildest scenery, among the strangest birds and animals, -he pursued his course, trembling night and day lest -his crew should at any moment refuse to go farther.</p> - -<p>At last they came to the country of the Shillooks. -That wild tribe of negroes was known to the boatmen -through nursery tales and traditional stories, wherein -the savages were given very bad names; and when -Mr. Taylor informed them that he purposed to visit -the village of those horrid man-eaters, they regarded -him with looks of the most profound astonishment. -But with a hardihood that by its boldness secured acquiescence, -he commanded them to row him to the -banks of the Nile, where the long rows of primitive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> -huts were to be seen. Through captives and merchants -the kingdom of the Shillooks had become partially -known, and a kind of jargon, like the pigeon-English -of the Chinese, served the purposes of communication. -One of Mr. Taylor’s company could talk with them -slightly, and with him as an interpreter, and another -servant for a protector, he walked boldly into the village -of the savages, taking no weapons, lest he should -create suspicion. But they received him coldly and -with much show of suspicion and treachery. It was a -most dangerous experiment, and it is a matter of wonder -that he was allowed to depart. There were large -numbers of armed men around him, brandishing spears -and clubs, and demanding of him all sorts of impossible -presents. But with a calmness and seeming confidence, -Mr. Taylor smoked with the chief, and exchanged -presents with the subordinate officials, until they -became friendly and docile, laying down their weapons -and conversing cheerfully through the interpreter. -Yet they laid a plan for plundering the party, and -would at the last perhaps have murdered the whole -crew, had not Mr. Taylor most adroitly and coolly -foiled them in their designs.</p> - -<p>All attempts to persuade his men to go farther were -useless. No urging, no promise of gifts, no threats -would induce them to sail farther south, as they believed -that it was but a little way to “the end of the -world.” How eagerly he yearned for some chance to -explore the country beyond, he often mentioned in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> -after life. He was at the centre of a mighty continent. -Locked and bolted it had been for all the ages, -and it appeared as if the door was now open and he had -only to walk in to discover its treasures. But alas! -he could not go on alone. He could not swim the -length of the river, nor find his way among the elephants -and lions of the jungle. The boat turned back -toward Khartoum, and he had no choice but to return -with it.</p> - -<p>However, he made the most of the trip, and frequently -visited the shore and had some very pleasant -and instructive interviews with the tribes who live in -that region. At one place he visited a village of the -Hassaniyehs, and contrary to the experience of many -other travellers, he was cordially invited to their circle -and treated with sincere hospitality. He mentioned -in his book the dance of welcome which the young -women of the village performed before him, and described -with interesting detail their motions, features, -forms, voices, and habits. Thus, with visits to savages, -interviews with wild beasts, and exquisite views -of the wildest scenery ever beheld by man, he floated -back to the friends and dwellings of Khartoum.</p> - -<p>His stay in Khartoum, on his return, was brief, -because of the approaching sickly season; but every -hour of his time, when awake, was occupied in visiting -and being visited. Native chiefs, Arab merchants, -holy men of the Moslem faith, Catholic priests, princesses, -soldiers, consuls, boatmen, and tame lions,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> -seemed equally at home in his presence; and his stay -was a most delightful one for all concerned. His -parting with his friends at Khartoum was akin to the -separation of life-long friends, or the breaking of a -family circle. To him the whole world was kin.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus8"> -<img src="images/illus8.jpg" width="700" height="375" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">SCENE IN NORTH AFRICA.</p> -</div> - -<p>From Khartoum he travelled in a caravan of camels, -chartered by him for an escort, leaving the Nile -and striking into the desert. With camel-drivers -hard to control, with a burning sun overhead, and -sands nearly as hot beneath, he traversed the desert -unharmed. Once he slept with a deadly snake under -his blanket, unconscious of his fearful danger until he -rolled up his blanket in the morning. The open air, -the free sun, sleeping on the sand, and eating the -coarse food of the natives, gave him a vigor and -healthy delight which inconveniences and dangers -could not overcome. Sometimes the heat was so -intense that the skin of his face peeled off, and once -or twice he felt the effects of “the desert intoxication,” -resulting from the monotonous scene and terrible heat. -It was a dizzy sensation, and is often thought to be a -symptom of dangerous disease. Changing camels -at intermediate stations, and visiting the ruins of -ancient cities and fortresses, where he found them -cropping out of the sand or adorning some rugged -mountain, he travelled on to Abdom, Dongola and -Wady-Halfa, where he embarked in a boat for Assouan. -His parting with his old dromedary, and with -his guides, at Wady-Halfa, is mentioned by him with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> -the same regret that he experienced in leaving his -other friends. But his farewell, in Cairo, to his trusted -servant Achmet, who had been his faithful companion -from Cairo up the Nile and back, drew tears from the -eyes of both.</p> - -<p>His voyage from Wady-Halfa to Cairo was so nearly -like his trip up the Nile, that for the purposes of this -work it is necessary only to say that he visited many -scenes and many ruins which were omitted on his way -up the river, and refreshed his memory by a second -visit to the most celebrated localities. He met many -travellers, and heard from civilization again, arriving -in the capital of Egypt on the first day of April, 1852, -in excellent spirits and in good health, save a troublesome -soreness of the eyes, caused by the reflection of -the sun on the water. The thin and frail body had -assumed a fullness and strength surprising to note, and -the broken heart had so accustomed itself to its load of -grief that the weight seemed lighter than at first.</p> - -<p>On the Nile he wrote a poem containing among -others, these expressive lines:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Mysterious Flood,—that through the silent sands</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Hast wandered, century on century,</div> -<div class="verse">Watering the length of green Egyptian lands,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Which were not, but for thee,—”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Thou guardest temple and vast pyramid,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Where the gray Past records its ancient speech;</div> -<div class="verse">But in thine unrevealing breast lies hid</div> -<div class="verse indent2">What they refuse to teach.”</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“What were to thee the Osirian festivals?</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Or Memnon’s music on the Theban plain?</div> -<div class="verse">The carnage, when Cambyses made thy halls</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Ruddy with royal slain?”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“In thy solemnity, thine awful calm,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Thy grand indifference of Destiny,</div> -<div class="verse">My soul forgets its pain, and drinks the balm</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Which thou dost proffer me.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse right">—<cite>Taylor.</cite></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>Departure from Egypt.—A Poet in Palestine.—Difference in Travellers.—Mr. -Taylor’s Appreciation.—First View of Tyre.—Route -to Jerusalem.—The Holy City.—Bath in the Dead Sea.—Appearance -of Jerusalem.—Samaria.—Looking down upon -Damascus.—Life in the eldest City.—The Bath.—Dose of -Hashish.—Being a Turk among Turks.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“The Poet came to the Land of the East,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">When Spring was in the air:</div> -<div class="verse">The earth was dressed for a wedding feast,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">So young she seemed, and fair;</div> -<div class="verse">And the poet knew the Land of the East—</div> -<div class="verse indent1">His soul was native there.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">All things to him were the visible forms</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Of early and precious dreams,—</div> -<div class="verse">Familiar visions that mocked his quest</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Beside the Western streams,</div> -<div class="verse">Or gleamed in the gold of the clouds, unrolled</div> -<div class="verse indent1">In the sunset’s dying beams.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse right">—<cite>Taylor</cite>, 1852.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>If there is any land where every grain of sand and -every blade of grass is pervaded by thrilling associations, -that land is Palestine. Especially and peculiarly -animated are its hills and vales to a poet such as -Taylor proved to be. It may be that some superficial -and matter-of-fact people who have visited the Holy -Land in the hot season, have not felt the charm of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> -its sacredness, owing to heat, barrenness, vermin, -and beggars. There may be a small class of iconoclastic -jokers, who, caring not how holy or tender the -theme, never fail to use it for ridicule, if it suits their -humoristic purpose. But the large class of travellers -who visit Jerusalem and the country round about, feel -the inspiring presence of the Past, and enjoy in an indescribable -fullness the associations connected with it. -In a higher and nobler degree, the mind imbued with -poetic images, a ready imagination, and a keen -discernment of beauty in landscape or history, will -avail itself of the great opportunities for pleasure and -profit which such a land supplies. In this sense Mr. -Taylor enjoyed a great advantage. He made his -physical being so subordinate to his mental, that no -fatigue, no hunger, no thirst, no annoyance from beggars, -nor fears of robbers, could interfere with the -appreciation of the beautiful. How greatly he enjoyed -his visit to Palestine, none but intimate friends ever -knew. In his letters, he often gave way to enthusiastic -expressions, and in his book, often gave very vivid -descriptions of what had been, as well as that which -then existed. But a fear of exaggeration through -praise, and a modest misgiving lest his poetical fancy -should not suit his readers, led him to write in a more -prosy vein than he talked. In conversation with -friends in Germany and America, and often in his -lectures, after he had finished his tours, he graphically -pictured the impressive events of the past connected<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> -with Palestine, which seemed to pass like a panorama -before him. To him, such a land would be full of -interest, whether he trod its fields at a time of the -year when it was luxuriant, or at a season when the -sun and simoon have made it a desert. To lie upon -its burning sands and dream of the sweltering hosts -that fought around the spot; to bask in the cool shades -of its olives and cedars, and think of Gethsemane and -the sweets of Sharon; to stand on the summit of the -Mount of Olives, Carmel, or Hermon, and realize the -almost overwhelming fact that before him were the -plains, hills, valleys, conquered and reconquered since -man was made, and which were peopled by the great, -the good, the wild, and the bloodthirsty of every -age; to recognize the localities where dwelt or fought -the heroes of Holy Writ; to feel the presence of the -King of kings as “on mysterious wings” he swept -the plain and shielded his people; to walk on the -very path whereon the Son of God had often placed -his feet; to dream in the starlight of Apostles, priests, -Romans, Crusaders, and Saracens, was an experience -especially gratifying to him, and interesting to a -greater or less degree to all travellers. The writer -recalls, perhaps in an imperfect form, a verse which -Mr. Taylor wrote during his stay in Palestine, and -which came to the writer with singular force while -carelessly wandering along the valley between Jerusalem -and the Mount of Olives.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Thy strength, Jerusalem, is o’er,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">And broken are thy walls;</div> -<div class="verse">The harp of Israel sounds no more</div> -<div class="verse indent1">In thy deserted halls:</div> -<div class="verse">But where thy Kings and Prophets trod,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Triumphant over death,</div> -<div class="verse">Behold the living soul of God,—</div> -<div class="verse indent1">The Christ of Nazareth!</div> -<div class="verse">The halo of his presence fills</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Thy courts, thy ways of men;</div> -<div class="verse">His footsteps on thy holy hills</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Are beautiful as then;</div> -<div class="verse">The prayer, whose bloody sweat betrayed</div> -<div class="verse indent1">His human agony,</div> -<div class="verse">Still haunts the awful olive-shade</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Of old Gethsemane.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>To him the past was real. He saw the fields of -corn, the ancient olive-trees, the high walls, and the -high towers, upon which the Saviour looked. He -saw again Abraham, Samuel, Saul, David, Isaiah, -Jeremiah, Pilate, and their associates. He walked in -imagination in the welcoming crowd as they strewed -the branches along the path from Bethany to Jerusalem. -He saw the council chamber, the cross, and the -ascension. He dreamed of the gathering armies at -Antioch and Joppa, whose banners at last waved over -the palace of Godfrey of Bouillon in Jerusalem. To -him the gates of history swung wide open, and he -wandered back through the centuries, meeting patriarch -and maiden, shepherd and warrior, prophet and -judge, seer and apostle, in a companionship social and -confidential. It was like long generations of experience<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> -to walk those hallowed fields and realize the -wonderful tales of history. In this, as much as in the -views of the present, is found the profit resulting from -travel in such lands. One lives over the tales of -which he has read, with each locality serving as a -fresh reminder of the unnoted details. He is an old -man in experience who has travelled in the right spirit -over those eldest lands of the world; and few indeed -is the number of tourists who can feel that they have -done so.</p> - -<p>Mr. Taylor, like Longfellow, Tennyson, and Scott, -had a gift of looking through the present into the past, -and held delightful communion with the old days. Trying, -however, with a laudable desire to instruct his -readers, he kept studiously close to the simple facts of -his actual experience, and in his narrative seldom -allowed himself to fall into poetical expressions.</p> - -<p>He left Egypt about the middle of the month of -April and landed at Beyrout, which was not at that -time, nor since, a very attractive locality. It was -made more unpleasant to him by an incarceration in a -kind of prison called the “Quarantine.” But with a -resignation worthy of the oldest Turk, he made the -best of his circumstances, and judging by the account -he has given of it, he had an easy, jolly time of it. -Released from the prison he travelled down the shore -of the Mediterranean to Tyre, with whose remnant he -seems to have been deeply impressed. The old Tyre, -with its fleets, with its enormous stocks of merchandise,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> -with its lofty piles of cedar timber, with its -gorgeous purple robes, with its bulwarks and battlements, -with its armed defenders and hosts of besiegers, -arose from its crumbled fragments and passed -through the panoramic changes which so startle the -student of Syrian history.</p> - -<p>After leaving the village which now replaces the -ancient city, he rode down the sandy shore and composed -a poem which was afterwards somewhat changed, -but in which was retained the boldness of the waves, -which then beat at his feet.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“The wild and windy morning is lit with lurid fire;</div> -<div class="verse">The thundering surf of ocean beats on the rocks of Tyre,—</div> -<div class="verse">Beats on the fallen columns and round the headland roars,</div> -<div class="verse">And hurls its foamy volume along the hollow shores,</div> -<div class="verse">And calls with angry clamor, that speaks its long desire:</div> -<div class="verse">‘Where are the ships of Tarshish, the mighty ships of Tyre?’</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Within her cunning harbor, choked with invading sand,</div> -<div class="verse">No galleys bring their freightage, the spoils of every land,</div> -<div class="verse">And like a prostrate forest, when autumn gales have blown,</div> -<div class="verse">Her colonnades of granite lie shattered and o’erthrown;</div> -<div class="verse">And from the reef the pharos no longer flings its fire,</div> -<div class="verse">To beacon home from Tarshish, the lordly ships of Tyre.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Where is the wealth of ages that heaped thy princely mart?</div> -<div class="verse">The pomp of purple trappings; the gems of Syrian art;</div> -<div class="verse">The silken goats of Kedar; Sabæa’s spicy store;</div> -<div class="verse">The tributes of the islands thy squadrons homeward bore,</div> -<div class="verse">When in thy gates triumphant they entered from the sea</div> -<div class="verse">With sound of horn and sackbut, of harp and psaltery.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Though silent and forgotten, yet Nature still laments</div> -<div class="verse">The pomp and power departed, the lost magnificence:</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> -<div class="verse">The hills were proud to see thee, and they are sadder now;</div> -<div class="verse">The sea was proud to bear thee, and wears a troubled brow,</div> -<div class="verse">And evermore the surges chant forth their vain desire:</div> -<div class="verse">‘Where are the ships of Tarshish, the mighty ships of Tyre?’”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>One of the most sublime experiences of life is to -stand where he stood, with the great waves rolling up -the beach and shaking the earth with their powerful -surges, and with the spray breaking about the dark -ruins of the ancient city, and there repeat the poem -from which the above verses are taken. It gives -power and life to the words which can never be felt or -seen by those who have never heard the bellowings or -felt the shocks of the Mediterranean surf.</p> - -<p>From Tyre he ascended Mount Carmel, and following -the shore to Jaffa, took the usual route to Jerusalem. -It was the most pleasant season of the year -(April), and all vegetation was fast springing into its -bountiful life. The cactus, orange, and pomegranate -were in bloom, and all nature seemed in its most -cheerful mood. So like a paradise did it look to him, -that it was some little time before he could get into that -frame of mind which brought a realization that he was -in that land of great renown. But as that thrilling -moment arrived when he stepped upon the highest -plateau of the mountains near Jerusalem and looked -with astonished eyes over the valley and on the “City -of our God and the mountain of his holiness,” he felt, -with a sudden thrill, that he was in the presence of -the Great and the Holy. With emotions that cannot<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> -be described he rode over those sacred fields and -entered the gates of the city.</p> - -<p>From Jerusalem he made an excursion, by the way -of Bethany, to the Dead Sea. It was a sultry day, -and he suffered much from the heat, having therein a -suggestion of the rain of fire and brimstone which -destroyed the cities whose ruins are supposed to be -petrified at the bottom of the Dead Sea. With his -usual hardihood he plunged fearlessly into the bituminous -waters of the Dead Sea, and seemed to enjoy what -no traveller who has since indulged in that bath is -known to have enjoyed, the buoyance of the water and -the sensations caused by the volcanic materials held in -solution.</p> - -<p>On his return to the city he remained for several -days examining the sacred localities and contending -with the crowds of beggars and guides who blocked -the narrow and filthy streets of Jerusalem. The -wretchedness, poverty, disease, and filth of the people -are so prominent and so loathsome, that unless the -ordinary traveller keeps constantly on his guard, he -will forget all the old and holy associations in his disgust -for the city of to-day. It is said that the city -is less dirty and less stricken with disease than it was -in 1850. If such be the fact, it is a marvel indeed how -Mr. Taylor ever found a fit place for his Muse, which -so frequently visited him there. He seems, however, -to have been deeply interested in everything, having -about as little faith in what the guides told him about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> -the locality of the Holy Sepulchre, Calvary, Gethsemane, -and the true cross, as travellers in more modern -times appear to entertain. Jerusalem was not -only all that we have represented it to be outwardly, -but the people would lie beyond the fables of any other -people; would steal and would murder. To be much -troubled by these facts would destroy the poetry of the -place, and Mr. Taylor allowed none of those things to -move him. He wrote of the facts as he found them, -uncolored by the imagination, and seems to have -flattered himself that he was not as sentimental as the -travellers who had preceded him. If he was so very -practical, whence such beautiful poetry?</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Fair shines the moon, Jerusalem,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Upon the hills that wore</div> -<div class="verse">Thy glory once, their diadem</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Ere Judah’s reign was o’er:</div> -<div class="verse">The stars on hallowed Olivet</div> -<div class="verse indent1">And over Zion burn,</div> -<div class="verse">But when shall rise thy splendor, set?</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Thy majesty return?”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>On the 7th of May he left Jerusalem, in company -with another traveller and the mule-drivers, taking the -route by way of Samaria to Nazareth through a -country at that season covered with the richest and -freshest foliage. Along the entire route the tourist -seldom passes out of sight of broken columns, falling -fortresses, gray old monasteries, dismal hermitages, -and Roman masonry. The olive and fig trees shaded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> -the path, and with the wide fields of grain gave the -appearance of thrift and enterprise. He visited Shechem, -where it is said that Joseph was buried, and -near which he was thrown into the pit by his brethren. -There Mr. Taylor saw Samaritans of the original -stock, and there he was shown an ancient manuscript -of Hebrew Law, said to be three thousand years old.</p> - -<p>He made a short stop at Nazareth and was shown -where the mother of Christ had resided, the table -from which Christ ate, and the school-room (?) in -which Christ is said to have been taught.</p> - -<p>Going thence he ascended Mount Tabor, as it was -his custom to climb all the mountains he could -reach, and then hastened on to the Sea of Galilee. -There he swam in its crystal water, and visited the -Mount of Beatitudes, Joseph’s Well, and Magadala, -the home of Mary Magdalene. Passing Cesarea -Philippi, and crossing the anti-Lebanon range of -mountains in imminent danger of robbery and death -from the rebellious tribes of Druses which inhabited -that region, they came out on the afternoon of May -19th in view of the lovely city of Damascus.</p> - -<p>Mr. Taylor made a sketch of himself as he appeared -in his Eastern costume, while seated on an eminence -that afternoon, overlooking the most ancient city in the -world. In one of the rooms of Mr. Taylor’s lovely -home of Cedarcroft there hangs a large painting, of -considerable merit, and said to be an excellent portrait, -which was executed by a friend from that sketch.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> -It represents Mr. Taylor sitting in Oriental posture, -on the mountain-side, with the domes, minarets, and -embowered walls of Damascus on the distant plain. -He always held that painting to be a treasure, connecting -him, as it did, with those scenes of early -travel, and with the friend who made the painting, -and with those who admired it.</p> - -<p>He was delighted with Damascus. It was placed -in the centre of a plain whereon grew in the greatest -abundance all the fruits and all the varieties of leaf -and blossom known to the tropic zone. No other -spot yet explored can boast such beautiful trees; such -a profusion of roses; such blossoms of jessamine and -pomegranate; such loads of walnuts, figs, olives, apricots; -such luxuriant grasses, and such productive -fields, as that land which has been cultivated by man -the longest. Nature has set the crown upon Damascus -and blessed it with a superabundance of vegetable -life. But what is given to verdure seems to be taken -from humanity, for, regarded as a whole, he found the -people of the city to be a rather bad lot. Yet there, -as elsewhere, he found agreeable companions and -warm friends. He made himself so much at home that -he soon appeared like a native, and all the labyrinths of -bazars and alleys were as familiar to him after a few -days’ stay as they seemed to be to the oldest resident. -He liked their life so well that he soon learned to enjoy -to its full the physical comfort and mental rest of the -Turkish bath. He ever after referred to the bath<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> -at Damascus as the acme of bodily satisfaction. The -fact that so many travellers have been disappointed in -the enjoyment of the bath does not show Mr. Taylor’s -account to be so much overdrawn, as it shows the difference -between the pleasure to be derived from the -pastimes of any people by those who adhere more or -less to their own tastes and customs, and those who, -like Mr. Taylor, fall wholly and heartily into the ways -and thoughts of the native. When in Damascus, he -not only did as they do outwardly, but he set his mind -in the same channel, and knew what it was to be a -Turk in aspirations as well as in dress. No other -traveller known to literature ever entered so completely -into the experience and social companionship -of the people whom he visited.</p> - -<p>In order that he might leave no habit untried which -came within his reach, he took a potion of hashish, to -test its strength and effects. The drug did not begin -to intoxicate him quite as soon as he expected, and -he doubled the dose, thus taking six times as much as -would intoxicate an ordinary Turk. It made him -terribly ill; and it was almost miraculous that he survived -the shock to his system. He did not try the -strength of that drug again. Among the friends he -made, and whose home he visited at Damascus, was a -family of Maronite Christians, who, eight years later, -were heinously butchered by the Moslems during the -great massacre following the Druses’ and Marnoites’ -dispute in 1860.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>Leaving Damascus.—Arrival at Beyrout.—Trip to Aleppo.—Enters -Asia Minor.—The Scenery and People.—The Hills of Lebanon.—Beautiful -Scenes about Brousa.—Enters Constantinople.—A -Prophesy.—Return to Smyrna.—Again in Italy.—Visits -his German Friend at Gotha.—The Home of his Second -Love.—Goes to London.—Visits Gibraltar.—Cadiz.—Seville.—Spanish -History.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Upon the glittering pageantries</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Of gay Damascus streets I look</div> -<div class="verse">As idly as a babe, that sees</div> -<div class="verse indent1">The painted pictures of a book.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse right">—<cite>Taylor’s Oriental Idyl.</cite></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>From Damascus Mr. Taylor journeyed to Baalbec, -where are the most imposing ruins to be found in -Syria, and where stand six of the most symmetrical -and exquisitely carved columns to be seen in Asia or -Europe. He described the temples and fragments so -vividly, that travellers who have taken his “Lands of -the Saracen” for a guide have seldom been disappointed -or mistaken in their anticipations, the actual scene -they look upon being so like the image they formed in -their minds while reading his description. The gift -of portraying through the combination of words and -sentences an accurate picture of a city existing in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> -strange land and amid a strange people, is a rare gift, -and the number is very few of those who are found to -possess it. Mr. Taylor was one of those privileged -ones. In his description we see the columns, cornices, -pediments, walls, platforms, broken pillars, and falling -pavilions as distinctly as they appear when we afterwards -look upon those romantic piles with the natural -eye. To him, as to others, it was a study to determine, -if possible, how such enormous blocks of stone, -sixty-two feet long and ten feet in diameter, could -have been transported and placed in the buildings. -It is beyond all the skill of to-day to move nine thousand -tons of stone in a single block with the conveniences -of that time.</p> - -<p>From Baalbec he ascended the Lebanon range of -mountains, and looked over the land from the snowy -peak of one of its lofty summits. He visited the -sacred cedars which have lived on the mountain-side -for three thousand years, and then rode on through -chasms, along cliffs, and by the sweetest and richest -dells, until he descended to the plain of Beyrout.</p> - -<p>His appreciation of the hills of Lebanon is more -clearly seen in his poetry than in his prose. For, -when writing of them afterwards, he said:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Lebanon, thou mount of story,</div> -<div class="verse">Well we know thy sturdy glory,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Since the days of Solomon;</div> -<div class="verse">Well me know the Five old Cedars,</div> -<div class="verse">Scarred by ages,—silent pleaders,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> -<div class="verse">Preaching in their gray sedateness,</div> -<div class="verse">Of thy forest’s fallen greatness,</div> -<div class="verse">Of the vessels of the Tyrian</div> -<div class="verse">And the palaces Assyrian</div> -<div class="verse">And the temple on Moriah</div> -<div class="verse indent1">To the High and Holy One!</div> -<div class="verse">Know the wealth of thy appointment—</div> -<div class="verse">Myrrh and aloes, gum and ointment;</div> -<div class="verse">But we knew not, till we clomb thee,</div> -<div class="verse">Of the nectar dropping from thee,—</div> -<div class="verse">Of the pure, pellucid Ophir</div> -<div class="verse">In the cups of vino d’oro,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">On the hills of Lebanon!”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>In that city he laid his plans for the future, and -abandoned his purposed trip to the Euphrates and -Tigris. He relinquished the design to visit Assyria -with great reluctance, and decided to pass through the -interior of Asia Minor to Constantinople. Acting -immediately upon this resolution, without an apparent -doubt of being able to traverse safely the unknown -interior of Asia Minor, he engaged a vessel and sailed -up the coast to the Orontes River, and thence to Aleppo. -In that city, by a ludicrous mistake, Mr. Taylor and -his travelling companion were invited to the house of -one of the wealthiest merchants, and were treated with -the greatest hospitality by the owner, who supposed -they were titled Englishmen. But when the mistake -was revealed, Mr. Taylor had become such an agreeable -visitor that his host insisted upon entertaining them -during their stay in Aleppo. He had been there but -a few days before he became such a general favorite,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> -that he was invited to call on the nobility, was urged -to attend feasts, balls, and weddings, and when he left -the city, the friendly regrets of hundreds of Moslems -and Christians followed him.</p> - -<p>Leaving Aleppo early in June, he followed the -shore of the Mediterranean around to the plain of Issus, -where Alexander the Great won his great victory, and -thence to Tarsus, the birthplace of the Apostle Paul. -It may have been “no mean city” when Paul was born, -but it was a most insignificant village when Mr. Taylor -was there. But as the magnificent mountains of -the Taurus range loomed up along the northern horizon, -his attention was taken from rags, beggary, and ruined -fortresses, to snowy cliffs, over which he had a passion -for clambering.</p> - -<p>Those persons who have ascended the Alps at the -Simplon pass, have a very good idea of the Taurus -mountains, and can realize somewhat of Mr. Taylor’s -satisfaction as he rode up the gorges and peered into -the deep valleys. He loved the mountains anywhere. -But the Taurus seemed then, in the glow of his return -to perfect health and with all the profusion of nature’s -living beauties blooming about him, and the eternal -snows gleaming above him, to be the most attractive -landscape in the world.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“O deep, exulting freedom of the hills!</div> -<div class="verse">O summits vast, that to the climbing view,</div> -<div class="verse">In naked glory stand against the blue!</div> -<div class="verse">O cold and buoyant air, whose crystal fills</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> -<div class="verse">Heaven’s amethystine bowl! O speeding streams,</div> -<div class="verse">That foam and thunder from the cliffs below!</div> -<div class="verse">O slippery brinks and solitudes of snow,</div> -<div class="verse">And granite bleakness, where the vulture screams!”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>His visit to Konia (Iconium), the capital of Karamania, -was full of little episodes and personal incidents, -which he told afterwards in print in his own inimitable -manner. But nothing of unusual moment occurred -until he reached ancient Phrygia, where the ruins of -olden cities and fortresses interested him much. Their -history was almost as unknown as the story of the -temples of Yucatan, and consequently had a mysterious -appearance which charms in a bewildering way the -study of a poet.</p> - -<p>Riding on over hills and mountains, across delightful -streams, through fertile valleys, associating with the -Turks on friendly terms, and studying their habits and -language, Mr. Taylor pushed fearlessly into the very -heart of Asia Minor. Visiting Oezani in its debris, -and the valley of Rhyndacus, they traversed the primeval -forests on the Mysian Olympus, and true to his -instincts he sought the heights of Olympus, twin mountain, -in size and literature, with its Grecian namesake. -From that point to Brousa, near the Sea of Marmora, it -was but a day’s journey, and seems to have been the -most delightful ride of the whole tour. Gardens, -orchards, grain-fields, thickets of clematis and roses, -patches of beech and oak woodland, and brilliant streams -pleased the eye, while the songs of birds and of happy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> -harvesters charmed the ear. Grand mountains pierced -the skies, covered with dense forests, behind them, and -the plain stretched away—a Garden of Eden—to -the shore of a placid inland sea.</p> - -<p>They entered Brousa in excellent health and spirits, -having seen no unusual fatigue and been in no great -danger during the whole journey through a country -then almost lost and unknown to the civilized world.</p> - -<p>From Brousa, the party descended to the Sea of -Marmora, and taking a sail-boat were wafted by the -Golden Horn into the interminable fleets of Constantinople. -During his stay in that city he witnessed the -display of the Turkish holidays, saw the Sultan on his -throne, entered the mosque of Saint Sophia, ran to the -numerous conflagrations, and unravelled to his satisfaction -some of the social and political problems connected -with the Sultan’s rule and the state of popular -discontent. He foretold a war with Russia, and a -contest between the latter and England over the coveted -gem of the East and the gate to the Black Sea. -His predictions have already been proven to be true, -showing an insight into political affairs wholly unlooked -for in a young man, and not to be found in -such as had travelled to less purpose.</p> - -<p>On leaving Constantinople, he proceeded again to -Smyrna, which place appeared to so much better -advantage on his second visit than it did at his first, -that instead of leaving it, as before, with anathemas, -he celebrated his visit with a poem.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“The ‘Ornament of Asia’ and the ‘Crown</div> -<div class="verse">Of fair Ionia.’ Yea, but Asia stands</div> -<div class="verse">No more an empress, and Ionia’s hands</div> -<div class="verse">Have lost their sceptre. Thou, majestic town,</div> -<div class="verse">Art as a diamond on a faded robe.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The reader may not need to be again reminded of -Mr. Taylor’s double view of the scenes he visited, or -of the fact that he tried to give faithful pictures of the -present in his prose and left the ideal and fanciful to -his books of poetry. But to understand his disposition, -and correctly estimate his ability, they need to -be read together; and hence, before taking leave of -Asia Minor, we venture to quote a verse from a dedication -to his friend Richard H. Stoddard, which we -have seen in a volume of Mr. Taylor’s poems.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“O Friend, were you but couched on Tmolus’ side,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">In the warm myrtles, in the golden air</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Of the declining day, which half lays bare,</div> -<div class="verse">Half drapes, the silent mountains and the wide</div> -<div class="verse">Embosomed vale, that wanders to the sea;</div> -<div class="verse indent1">And the far sea, with doubtful specks of sail,</div> -<div class="verse">And farthest isles, that slumber tranquilly</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Beneath the Ionian autumn’s violet veil;—</div> -<div class="verse">Were you but with me, little were the need</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Of this imperfect artifice of rhyme,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Where the strong Fancy peals a broken chime</div> -<div class="verse">And the ripe brain but sheds abortive seed.</div> -<div class="verse">But I am solitary, and the curse,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Or blessing, which has clung to me from birth—</div> -<div class="verse">The torment and the ecstasy of verse—</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Comes up to me from the illustrious earth</div> -<div class="verse">Of ancient Tmolus; and the very stones,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> -<div class="verse">Reverberant, din the mellow air with tones</div> -<div class="verse">Winch the sweet air remembers; and they blend</div> -<div class="verse indent1">With fainter echoes, which the mountains fling</div> -<div class="verse">From far oracular caverns: so, my Friend,</div> -<div class="verse indent4">I cannot choose but sing.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>At Constantinople Mr. Taylor heard of the action -which had been taken by the United States, looking to -the opening of the ports of Japan to the commerce of -America. He heard that a squadron was to leave the -United States in November, under the command of -Commodore Perry, and he formed the resolution to -connect himself with the expedition, if possible. To -that end he wrote to his friends and employers in New -York, asking them to obtain permission for him to join -the fleet. Not knowing just when the expedition -would sail, nor at what ports it would stop on its way -to Japan, he anxiously watched for information, and -inquired at every place where information was likely -to be found.</p> - -<p>He was determined to visit Spain before he went to -China and Japan, and was equally resolved to visit -the home of his German travelling companion who -ascended the Nile with him, and who had sent pressing -invitations to him to come to Gotha.</p> - -<p>The business details connected with his finances and -outfit for Spain and China also called him to London, -and arranging his tour so as to accomplish these -diverse ends he visited Malta, where he was delayed -ten days, and then sailed to Sicily, where he witnessed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> -the Catanian centennial festival in honor of St. -Agatha, and where he beheld the awful spectacle of -Ætna in eruption. From Sicily he sailed up the coast -to that Naples which, as a wayfarer in Rome seven -years before, he had so much longed to see, and filled -his letters with praises of its beautiful bay and charming -circle of mountain, city, town, cliffs, and islands. -Without changing steamers he proceeded to Leghorn, -and going to Florence experienced that delight of all -delights,—in Florence a second time. Feeling that -his time was limited, and “drawn by an unseen influence,” -he hastened on to Venice, and thence through -the regions of the Austrian Tyrol to Munich and -Gotha.</p> - -<p>Gladsome days at Gotha! Was it not the country -of his beloved friend? Was it not the home of his -friend’s niece, Marie Hansen? The daughter of the -great astronomer, Peter Andreas Hansen, was a worthy -child of a noble sire. Mr. Taylor had listened to her -praises, but had hardly hoped to meet her.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Now the night is overpast,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">And the mist is cleared away:</div> -<div class="verse">On my barren life at last</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Breaks the bright, reluctant day.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Quick, fiery thrills, which only are not pangs</div> -<div class="verse">Because so warm and welcome, pierce my frame,</div> -<div class="verse">As were its airy substance suddenly</div> -<div class="verse">Clothed on with flesh; the ichor in my veins</div> -<div class="verse">Begins to redden with the pulse of blood,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> -<div class="verse">And, from the recognition of the eyes</div> -<div class="verse">That now behold me, something I receive</div> -<div class="verse">Of man’s incarnate beauty. Thou, as well</div> -<div class="verse">Confessest this bright change: across thy cheeks</div> -<div class="verse">A faintest wild-rose color comes and goes,</div> -<div class="verse">And, on thy proud lips, Phyra, sits a flame!</div> -<div class="verse">Oh, we are nearer!—not suffice me now</div> -<div class="verse">The touch of marble hands, reliance cold,</div> -<div class="verse">And destiny’s pale promises of love;</div> -<div class="verse">But, clasping thee as mortal passion clasps</div> -<div class="verse">Bosom to Bosom, let my being thus</div> -<div class="verse">Assure itself, and thine.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse right">—<cite>Taylor’s Deukalion.</cite></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>After a few weeks spent in and about that pleasant -city, to which he was destined to return and claim his -bride, and in which he was to pass many of the sweetest -days of his life, he journeyed to London. There -he made his arrangements for a trip into China, and -hastened away to Gibraltar.</p> - -<p>On the 6th of November he left the great rock and -took passage in a steamer for Cadiz, in Spain. There -he walked the streets three thousand years old, and -wherein, it is said, that Hercules strode. Yet there is -but little now to be seen that would remind one of antiquity. -He noticed, however, the beautiful and graceful -women. From Cadiz he went by boat up the Guadalquiver -River to the pretty town of Seville. There -were the old Moorish houses; there the massive Cathedral; -there the Saracenic palace of Alcazar, with all -its porches, galleries, arches, and sculptures; there -was the palace called Pilate’s House, with its decorations<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> -from Arabia, and inscriptions from the Koran; -and there was the museum containing Murillo’s best -paintings.</p> - -<p>But it requires only a short time to visit all the -attractions of Seville, and Mr. Taylor soon proceeded -to Granada. In nearly all the cities which he visited -he was reminded, directly or indirectly, of the visit of -his friend, Washington Irving. He found the same -guides, or lodged at the same hotel, or visited some -celebrated locality of which Irving had written.</p> - -<p>In Granada was the celebrated fortress of Alhambra, -which was captured from the Moors by the troops -of Ferdinand and Isabella the same year that Columbus -discovered America; there was the palace of -Charles V.; there the Carthusian convent, the Monastery -of St. Geronimo, and there the cathedral with the -remains of Ferdinand and Isabella. He made a hasty -trip to Cordova and its ancient Moslem mosque. -Then, visiting Alhama, Malaga, and Ronda, he returned -hastily to Gibraltar and examined the renowned fortress, -said to be the strongest citadel in the world.</p> - -<p>In that somewhat hasty view of Southern Spain he -obtained much valuable information and an experience -which often served him in his literary work as a -writer for the public press. Southern Spain and -Southern France, next to Rome itself, are replete with -warlike and romantic associations. Gauls, Romans, -Moors, and Spaniards, have made nearly every plain a -battle-field; and the toppling walls of the ancient towers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> -and palaces tell of the fiercest contests, the most -terrible inquisitions, and the narrowest of narrow -escapes. Song and story in prose and rhyme have -combined in every form to make the land attractive, -and it is a matter of deep regret that Mr. Taylor, who -was so capable of developing all these characteristics, -had not more time in which to visit them and write -out his experience.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>Leaves Gibraltar for Alexandria.—Egypt and Old Friends.—The -Town of Suez.—Embarks for Bombay.—Mocha and its Coffee.—Aden.—Arrival -in Bombay.—Reception by the People.—Trip -to Elephanta.—Ride into the Interior.—Difficulties of -the Journey.—Views of Agra.—Scenes about Delhi.—Starts -for the Himalaya Mountains.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Where is Gulistan, the Land of Roses?</div> -<div class="verse">Not on hills, where Northern winters</div> -<div class="verse">Break their spears in icy splinters,</div> -<div class="verse">And in shrouded snow the world reposes;</div> -<div class="verse">But amid the glow and splendor,</div> -<div class="verse">Which the Orient summers lend her,</div> -<div class="verse">Blue the heaven above her beauty closes:</div> -<div class="verse">There is Gulistan, the Land of Roses.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Northward stand the Persian mountains;</div> -<div class="verse">Southward spring the silver fountains,</div> -<div class="verse">Which to Hafiz taught his sweetest measures.</div> -<div class="verse">Clearly ringing to the singing,</div> -<div class="verse">Which the nightingales delight in,</div> -<div class="verse">When the Spring, from Oman winging</div> -<div class="verse">Unto Shiraz, showers her fragrant treasures</div> -<div class="verse">On the land, till valleys brighten.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse right">—<cite>Taylor.</cite></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>By far the most interesting and valuable part of Mr. -Taylor’s experience as a traveller was in India, China, -and Japan, if we consider only the welfare of his -readers. But so far as its influence upon him was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> -concerned, its impression was far less marked than -that in Europe and Egypt. At the time he left Gibraltar -for Egypt, the lands of India, China, and Japan -were comparatively little known to the reading communities -in America. Even India, which had so long -been the idol of England and the El Dorado for all her -adventurous spirits and valorous soldiers, was a country -with which America had but little communication, -and in whose people Americans took but little interest. -It was a neglected field.</p> - -<p>Mr. Taylor, in a letter to a friend in Washington, -laid much stress upon the importance to American -commerce of an accurate description of those lands, -and hoped to be the instrument by which an interest -in such enterprises might be awakened. It was a -laudable, patriotic purpose, and was most conscientiously -carried out by him.</p> - -<p>He left Gibraltar on the 28th of November, on a -Peninsular and Oriental steamer, which touched at that -port, on its way from Southampton to Alexandria. He -arrived at Alexandria December 8, and sought his old -quarters in the city. He felt like one who returns to -his home, as he walked the streets of the Egyptian -city, and relates with evident satisfaction how pleasant -it was to call out to the crowd of donkey-drivers in -their native tongue.</p> - -<p>But his visit to Cairo gave him the keenest delight, -as there he saw many familiar faces, and was greeted -with many welcoming smiles. He was especially delighted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> -to meet his faithful dragoman, Achmet, who -had been his companion on his trip to the White Nile, -and the happiness of the Egyptian on seeing his old -employer told very impressively the power and virtue -of Mr. Taylor’s character. Men were faithful to him -because he had faith in them. They loved him because -he understood and appreciated them. Even the little -donkey-boy on whose animal Mr. Taylor had rode a -year before in one of his reckless canters through the -bazaars, remembered him and offered to let him ride -again without pay—an act unheard of by other travellers -there. It could not be otherwise than sweet to -travel in any land where the people were friends and -where the wanderer was regarded in the light of an -especially intelligent relative.</p> - -<p>At that date there were no railroads in Egypt, -although one was projected, and Mr. Taylor was compelled, -in common with the crowd of other travellers, -to ride in a cart, eighty-four miles, through the sandy -desert, to Suez. The latter town was then, according -to Mr. Taylor’s account, a small, dirty, insignificant -place. But the writer, who visited the place after a -visit to Japan, China, and India, in 1870, found a very -prosperous town, with excellent hotel accommodations. -The bazaar was large and stocked with an immense -quantity of goods from all parts of the civilized world. -It has doubtless grown much since the work was begun -on the Suez Canal, and since the harbor has been -dredged and the wharves constructed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> - -<p>His stay in Suez was, however, very brief, as the -Mediterranean steamer had arrived much behind time, -and consequently all were hurried on board the little -tug, and soon walked the deck of an India steamer.</p> - -<p>They were on the Red Sea! Now that its barren, -sandy shores, the home of the pelican and ostrich, -have become so familiar to tourists, and its glaring -surface been so often mentioned by correspondents, -there is less romance about a voyage from Suez to -Aden than in that comparatively early day when Mr. -Taylor visited the locality. There was the rugged -pass on the west, through which the pillar of fire led -the escaping Jews to the shore, and there was the -beach and highlands on the east, up which they -marched dry-shod from the bed of the sea, while the -waves rolled in on the hosts of Pharaoh. There was -the hill on which Miriam sang so exultingly; and -beyond, the hot peaks of the Sinaitic Wilderness. -Somewhere in the vicinity of that sea resided the -Queen of Sheba; and not far from its shores were -the forgotten mines of ancient Ophir.</p> - -<p>But Mr. Taylor felt now that a patriotic duty rested -upon him, and avoiding the delicious flights of fancy -which pleased him so much in Europe, he devoted -himself to the practical things which might be of -advantage to his ambitious countrymen. So he told -about the sailors who were employed on the steamer, -where Hindoos did all the drudgery and Chinamen -prepared the food, under the direction of Europeans.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> -He described the character of the passengers, telling -where each came from and where they were going. -How he ascertained these facts is an enigma; but they -were important to commercial people who would compete -with the established lines, and who would like to -know whom to employ and who would be their patrons. -There were physicians, soldiers, officers, merchants, -and health-seekers, from each of whom Mr. -Taylor managed to gain much information. He did -not wait, like the fashionable tourist of this day, until -he arrived at his destination, trusting to luck for information -and accommodation. He closely studied the -country before he arrived there, and frequently astonished -his guides and native companions by showing a -much more accurate and extensive knowledge of their -country than they possessed who had lived there all -their lives.</p> - -<p>He mentioned the hot red hills and the furnace-like -surface of the sea, saying that one part of the Red Sea -was the hottest part of the earth’s surface. But he -appears to have suffered less than he had in the desert, -and was quite happy with his biscuit and claret, and -lost no time with useless fans.</p> - -<p>He saw Mocha from the deck of the steamer, and -immediately set about ascertaining what advantages -that port and town offered to commerce. Without -leaving the deck he found persons who knew all about -Arabia and its products; so he sits down and writes a -letter about coffee and its culture in and about Mocha.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> -He was such a devoted lover of coffee that it may have -been a peculiarly interesting topic to him. At all -events, he wrote so intelligently that an old schoolmate, -who was engaged in foreign trade, acted profitably -on Mr. Taylor’s hints and started a son in the coffee-trade -at Baltimore. Mr. Taylor stated in his letter that -fifteen thousand tons of coffee were exported annually -from Mocha, it being raised in the interior and brought -to Mocha on camels. He said that foreign vessels -could best load at Aden, the English stronghold on -the south-west coast of Arabia, to which port the native -coasting vessels carried nearly all the exports of Mocha -and of the other small ports along the Red Sea. He -also gave the information that equally good coffee -could be obtained on the Abyssinian coast, and at a -smaller price.</p> - -<p>He entered the port of Aden in the night, and was -startled to look out on the port in the morning and see -such jagged masses of black rock shooting up from -the sand one thousand five hundred feet. It is another -Gibraltar, and shrewdly has England held by diplomacy -what she obtained by such a show of force. But -the heat from the sand and barren rocks is so intense -that the quivers of a heated atmosphere are always -visible, and very injurious to the eyes. At the time -of Mr. Taylor’s visit, the town and the harbor were -wretched and dangerous; but in 1870 the writer -found a neat village, with good hotels, and a spacious -wharf. Mr. Taylor saw the advantages of the port<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> -and predicted its growth. He mentioned the form, -features, and dispositions of the Arabians; and told -what interest the Parsees and Hindoos took in the -local trade. He mentioned the articles of commerce -to be found there, and gave the prices.</p> - -<p>There is not to be found in his letters to the -“Tribune,” nor in his book, “India, China, and -Japan,” any mention of his sensations when he saw, -as he did at Aden, a fire-worshipper (Parsee) for the -first time. Being a poet by nature, and an admirer of -Moore, he must have been fascinated by the actual -presence of a Gheber with whom he could converse, -and with whom he could change English money into -the coin of the country. How “Lalla Rookh” comes -to the tongue’s end when we look a fire-worshipper in -the face and recognize the picture Moore had given of -him!</p> - -<p>At Aden Mr. Taylor witnessed an incident which, -to one so broadly charitable and Christian, must have -been most revolting. One of the workmen, who had -been loading the steamer with coal, was asleep in the -hold when the vessel started, and the officers finding -him aboard after they had put to sea, forced the poor -native overboard and left him to float ashore with the -tide or perish in the waves. He whose land was -the world, whose brethren were all mankind, whose -friends were the humblest heathen as well as the titled -official, looked back at the dark speck on the waves, -and tears filled his eyes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p> - -<p>From Aden, the steamer entered upon its trip across -the Indian Ocean, which was true to its reputation, and -was placid and peaceful as an inland lake. But the slow -steamer took nine days to sail from Suez to Bombay; -and by the time Mr. Taylor was brought into view of -the mountains where Brahma and Vishnu had so long -been worshipped, he had become acquainted with -nearly all the Hindoo sailors, and could secure unusual -attendance from the waiters by addressing them in the -Hindustanee language. He had learned the names of -the principal streets of Bombay, the names of the -richest merchants, and the kind of fare to be expected -at the hotels. So naturally did he fall into the ways -of the people that the boatmen who took him ashore -at Bombay mistook him for an old resident and carried -him ashore for one rupee, while charging the other passengers -three. He seated himself, or rather stretched -himself, into a palanquin carried by four men,—one at -each end of a long pole,—and like a native rode through -the streets of Bombay on the necks of servants. But -he did not enjoy that kind of conveyance; he had too -much sympathy with the human race to impose his -weight on the necks of human beings without misgiving, -and he afterwards refused to be carried about in -that way when mules were to be had.</p> - -<p>At Bombay, he was received with the same good-will -and hospitality as he had found in other lands. -Parsees, Hindoos, English, and Arabians vied with -each other in giving him kindly attentions; the people<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> -were pagan in religion, but Christian in generosity -and charity. It broadens one’s ideas of theology to be -thrown into communion with so many different nations -with as many different gods. But its tendency is to -confirm, rather than to unsettle, the belief in the -Christian doctrines. At all events, such was Mr. Taylor’s -experience; and such has been the effect upon -others.</p> - -<p>He found the common people very servile, and lacking -in spirit, and attributed it to the long despotism. -But in them he found faithful friends, and learned to -respect them. They were nearly all pagans when he -was there, and worshipped their huge red idols with a -sincerity and self-sacrifice worthy of the highest profession. -In order to learn something of India in those -remote ages beyond the testimony of history, and even -back of the age of tradition, he visited the old temple -on the island of Elephanta, about seven miles from -Bombay. The massive structure, in partial ruin, so -wonderfully wrought and massively constructed, made -a deep impression upon his mind. Far, far back in the -uncounted ages, the foundations were laid by men who -were not low in the scale of civilization, if an idea of -the beautiful and the ability to embody it in forms of -stone be a test of enlightenment; it stands to-day, -defying time, as it has defied earthquakes and cannon-shot. -Into the fathomless future will it pass, an -immovable monument of the skill and art of man in -the childhood of human experience. In the statuary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> -Mr. Taylor found a strange resemblance to the three -ages of art; the statue of Brahma representing the -style of the Egyptian, Vishnu being represented in a -form and carving of the Greek style, while Siva was -cut from the stone in such a shape as to remind him of -the Mephistopheles of the German school of sculpture.</p> - -<p>His keen scrutiny also developed the theory that -the pillars were rough copies of the poppy-stem and -the lotus-leaf. The latter was the emblem of sanctity -in the days of Brahma. Mr. Taylor’s suggestion has -been attractively enlarged upon and illustrated within -a few years by writers for English literary and art -periodicals.</p> - -<p>No excursion from Bombay exceeds that to Elephanta -in romantic attractions; for there are not only -extensive ruins of greater and lesser temples, but the -landscape, wherein the greenest islands dot the sheen -of a gorgeous bay, is bright with most beautiful flowers -and bright leaves, and the air is permeated with -the odor of roses and cassia. Soon Elephanta will be -a “summer resort,” and Taylor’s description and reflections -will be sold by newsboys as a guide-book.</p> - -<p>At Bombay he visited the large mercantile establishments -and investigated the prospects of trade; saw the -people in their homes, at meals, prayers, marriages, and -funerals, and studied the work of the carpenters in that -celebrated shipyard where was constructed the man-of-war -wherein the Star-Spangled Banner was written. -He knew all about the city as it was when he saw it,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> -and as it had been from its Portuguese beginning; -and yet he remained but a single week. Who was the -simpleton that circulated an unauthorized statement -that Mr. Taylor travelled far and saw little? In fact, -he knew more of the needs and enterprise of Bombay -than many old residents.</p> - -<p>In his haste to see as much of India as possible, and -yet arrive in China in season to join Commodore Perry’s -expedition to Japan, he determined to ride in one -of the mail carts of India a distance of nearly four -hundred miles. His new friends advised him not to -attempt the journey, and entertained him with the -deeds of assassins and robbers along the route, and -the results of the fatiguing ride of seven days and -nights in a two-wheeled vehicle without springs or -mattresses. But his mind was made up to go, and go -he would. So, regardless of warnings and advice, he -started into the interior in a cart with a driver and the -“Royal Mail.” The traveller who now lounges in the -luxuriant carriages of the railway trains between -Bombay and Calcutta, can have no idea of the trials -of such a journey as Mr. Taylor undertook. Then, -there were no railroads, no regular stages, even; -nothing but lumbering carts drawn by oxen and -decrepit old horses. But he endured the fatigue with -his usual fortitude and good fortune, while his already -remarkable experience among hospitable people was -repeated there in a most praiseworthy style. Friends, -friends, everywhere! Men divided their meals and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> -beds with him. People with whom he could converse -by signs only, gave him food and pressed themselves -into his service, and would take no pay. In one -place a soldier sat up all night to give the weary traveller -his bed. Surely, the essence of human kindness -and charity is not confined to Christian lands!</p> - -<p>Through jungles, where there was not a single path; -along highways, crowded with innumerable carts; -riding in wildernesses, where water was scarce, and -food not to be found; in every kind of vehicle known -to the primitive people, from a horse chaise to a bullock-cart; -surrounded by miasmatic marshes, and the -lairs of tigers, he hurried on toward Delhi.</p> - -<p>On his way he made a short stop at Agra and -Futtehpoor-Sikra, where stand some of the mightiest -and most costly temples which have been reared since -the beginning of the Christian era. It well repays -years of work and economy to wander among the -palaces, mosques, and mausoleums of those great cities. -No palace in all the world can be found to equal that of -Akbar, the great Mogul, at Agra. When Mr. Taylor -visited the city, nearly all the rubbish, made by wars -and sieges, had been cleared away, and the scarred -walls and marred mosaics had been restored, so that -he stood under mighty domes, amid all the splendor -of the East. No one can imagine its beauty and -grandeur, unless he has seen it. Such lofty arches! -such masses of pure white marble! such a profusion -of pearl, jasper, cornelian, agate, and many stones of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> -greater beauty and value! Such exquisite carvings, -such lovely mosaics, such labyrinths of inwrought -balustrades and porticos! Such tombs, so rich, so -beautiful, so great, that the tomb of Napoleon in Paris -is lost in comparison!</p> - -<p>Mr. Taylor was delighted beyond measure by a visit -to the tomb of the Empress Noor-Jehan, wife of the -Shah Jehan. Moore uses her romantic history in his -“Lalla Rookh,” for verily she was “The Light of the -Harem.” Shah Jehan, “Selim,” erected that marvellously -beautiful building, with its lofty dome, and -slender minarets, its inlaid jewels wherein the walls -are made to hold a copy, in Arabic, of the whole -Koran. Beautiful as Eastern songs represent Noor-Jehan -to be, the tomb in which she lies must surpass -her in whiteness and delicacy of outline. Never, -in harem of Cashmere, nor in garden of Mogul, were -there more delicious odors than those which still fill -the air about her tomb. No brighter, more various, -or more odorous flowers bloomed in Mahomet’s Paradise, -than now bewilder the visitor to that hallowed -spot. It was fortunate for Mr. Taylor that he had -seen the boasted palaces and temples of Europe and -Western Asia, before he visited that enchanted spot. -Dreams of Aladdin became literal there. In towers, -arches, domes, colonnades, ceilings of pearl and -precious stones, pillars wrought with the skilful -jeweller’s art, inlaid floors in which no crease appears, -in diamond-like foundations, and in the unity of its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> -unbroken sculptures, the temples of Agra and of its -suburbs, excel those of Venice and Florence, as the -exquisite and angelic echoes in the dome of Queen -Noor’s tomb excel, in length and sweetness, those of -the Baptistry at Pisa.</p> - -<p>From Agra, he rode over the wide highway, one -hundred and fifteen miles, to Delhi, the former capital -of the Moguls, and which, at that time, boasted the -presence, in his palace, of Akbar II. There he was -treated with the same hospitality as he had been in -other cities, and kind-hearted residents guided him -about the streets of the modern city, and accompanied -him to the magnificent ruins in various quarters of the -plain whereon stood the old city. Pile on pile of -massive columns lay in ragged majesty about him, and -bewildered his senses with their unnumbered towers. -Ruins, ruins, ruins, as far as the eye can trace the -broken plain. Palaces, fortresses, temples, mosques, -harems, tombs, obelisks, and massive battlements lie -hurled together in undistinguished profusion, while -here and there the porch of some lofty building, or -some imposing arch, still breaks the line of the horizon. -One pillar stands in the plain, whose summit is two -hundred and forty feet above the ground. Near this -gigantic shaft are the ruins of the palace of Aladdin. -But the stone that cumber the plain, and the stable -platform, once the floor, do not suggest the palace of -diamonds, emeralds, pearls, gold, and ivory of which -we have read; and the beholder is tempted to believe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> -that there was a mistake of location, and that Agra -instead of Delhi, was the place after all. But Mr. -Taylor, whose time was limited, could not linger long, -nor hope to solve all the riddles which such an inexhaustible -antiquarian museum suggested, and after -visiting Hindoo temples, adorned with fascinating carvings -and unintelligible inscriptions, and tombs covering -the remains of known and unknown monarchs, he -hastened back to the modern city, with its wide Boulevard, -and made preparations to visit the Himalaya -Mountains.</p> - -<p>He left that interesting city with great regret, for, -to the poet, it suggested a very attractive place for -fanciful dreams, and peaceful moralizing. Moore -incorporated in his poem a Persian inscription, which -was shown Mr. Taylor in the palace of Akbar II.: -“If there be an Elysium on earth, it is here, it is -here.” And it might have been such an Elysium but -for the dilapidated, dirty condition of the palace, in -which the motto was seen, which did not harmonize -with the sentiment, and may have robbed the whole -palace of its poetical attractions.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>The Himalaya Mountains.—Returning Southward.—Lucknow and -Calcutta.—Foretells the Great Rebellion.—Embarks for China.—Visit -to the Mountains of Penang.—The Chinese at Singapore.—Arrival -at Hong-Kong.—Joins the Staff of the U. -S. Commissioner.—Scenes about Shanghai.—The Nanking -Rebellion.—Life in Shanghai.—Enlists in the Navy.—Commodore -Perry’s Expedition.</p> - -</div> - -<p>From Delhi Mr. Taylor travelled northward through -a country well subjugated, which, under English direction, -was made fertile and safe for travellers. His -way lay toward the sunnier resort of the invalids and -wealthy Europeans, which lay far up in the Himalaya -Mountains, where the snow never melted and where -the hot, miasmatic winds of the plains cannot follow -the fugitive. At Roorkee, while lying in his palanquin, -he caught his first glimpse of the Himalayas, and felt that -crushing sense of awful sublimity which fills the soul of -every new spectator. Towers that the arch of heaven -seems to rest upon, white and gleaming as the purest -pearl, rise one behind the other, until the farthest are lost -in the haze of intervening space. Titanic pillars of snow, -so grand, so mighty, so expressive of the most gigantic -forces known or imagined by man, how can language -convey their immensity? It is useless to attempt it. -For you may talk, and talk, of mountains and the glorious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> -sunsets that enamel them in roseate tints, yet -no one will shed tears or feel a tremor of awe. But -he who beholds them for the first time lets the tears -unnoticed fall, and trembles as if thrust suddenly into -the personal presence of the Almighty. Such a sense -of humility, of abject unworthiness, takes possession -of the beholder, that the soul labors heavily under the -oppressive load, and the body shrinks from a nearer -approach. There is nothing so powerful for driving -atheism or egotism out of a man as the near view of -the Himalayas or Andes or Rocky Mountains. The -noblest races of the world have been reared in the wild -regions of lofty mountains, and none so tenaciously -revere their Maker, or so willingly sacrifice themselves -for their friends or their God as the natives of the -mountain passes.</p> - -<p>Mr. Taylor approached the highest range as near as -the heights of Landowr, which is about sixty miles -from the snowy peaks of the loftiest range, and is itself -so high as to hold the snow the greater part of the -year. There he saw the gorgeous illumination of those -heavenly snow-fields, when the sun was setting and -when it seems as if a universe was in a blaze, while its -lurid glare shone full upon those stupendous monuments -of the earthquake’s titanic power. Mr. Taylor gazed -upon those masses of the purest white, as twilight -began to hide their outlines, and thought that, as he -said in one of his lectures, “within three hundred -miles of me are mightier mountains than these!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p> - -<p>Having seen the mountains and checked his old -desire to stand on top of the highest one, he turned -about and started southward for Calcutta, taking the -first day’s journey on an elephant kindly loaned him -by a new-found friend. He journeyed thence in the -horse-carts of that time, via Meerut and Cawnpore, to -Lucknow, where he was entertained in a most royal -manner by the English officials. After examining that -great metropolis of the interior, he hurried on to -Benares and thence by quick relays to the great city -of Calcutta.</p> - -<p>With a peculiar faculty for foreseeing the effect of -certain influences on human nature, Mr. Taylor foretold -the approaching mutiny. He saw that the English -treated the natives with habitual indignity. He saw -that three-quarters of the earnings of the people was -taken by the government. He saw that the English -were in a great minority. He saw that the Sepoy -regiments were good soldiers. He saw that influential -positions were held by dangerously powerful natives. -And he declared that a rebellion was not only possible, -but probable.</p> - -<p>Four years later began that great rebellion among -the natives, which became one of the bloodiest and -cruelest contests known in the annals of history. -Chiefs and princes who received Mr. Taylor cordially -during his visit, were afterwards executed for treason. -Fortresses, temples, and cities, which he visited were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> -shattered and torn by the shots of contending armies. -Oppression and aristocratic pride resulted, as it naturally -would, in horrid carnage and an impoverished -treasury. Mr. Taylor’s words of warning as they -appeared in America, were probably never read in -England, or if they were read, were scouted as the -fears of one who did not understand the “permanency -of a despotism.”</p> - -<p>Although his stay was short in Calcutta, his description -of the people, the dwellings, the shipping, and -social customs was one of the most clear and complete -to be found in print. One who reads it sees the city, -the river, the verdant plains, and the sea spread out -before him, and becomes acquainted with the shop-keepers, -police, Parsees, Arabs, Hindoos, Chinese, and -Europeans, that made up the motley throngs. True to -his patriotic purpose, he gave the commerce of the -port such attention as the interests of our merchants -required.</p> - -<p>From Calcutta he proceeded by an English steamer -to Penang on the coast of the Malay Peninsula. It is -a delightful locality, and is as beautiful in situation -and vegetation as its clove and nutmeg trees are fragrant. -There again he gratified his taste for climbing -a mountain, and spent nearly his whole time ascending -to the signal station on the highest peak of the peninsula. -It was the only place he visited in which he -left unseen the attractive nooks, grottos, waterfalls, -and jungles, and chose instead the less interesting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> -experience. It was a source of regret to him afterward, -that he did not spend the few hours he had, in the -lowlands and on the mountain-sides rather than at their -tops. Every traveller who has visited Penang could -detect the error. Yet, Mr. Taylor set down in his -account of his visit more valuable information and a -more graphic outline of the landscape than any traveller -appears to have done, notwithstanding the beautiful -falls of Penang are visited by thousands yearly.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus9"> -<img src="images/illus9.jpg" width="700" height="375" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">NATIVE COTTAGES IN THE TROPICS.</p> -</div> - -<p>Accompanying the steamer in its usual route, Mr. -Taylor stopped at Singapore, at the extreme southern -end of the peninsula. It was a new port at that time, -and was not so important as it afterwards became; -yet he found ten or fifteen thousand people there, -mostly dirty and repulsive Chinese. Mr. Taylor was -not pleased with the Chinese as a race, for two reasons. -First, he heard such reports of their barbarity, beastliness, -and dishonesty; second, they were an awkward, -unsymmetrical people, devoid of that physical beauty -which the artist admires and copies. He dwelt upon -the latter fact in his letters, and mentioned it in his -book. Neither Phidias, Polycrates, Raphael, or Angelo -would have selected a model from among these -creatures, and naturally enough the artistic taste of -Mr. Taylor was shocked by such natural deformities -as the Chinese were, when looked upon with reference -to the graceful and beautiful in the human form. It -is but just to the Chinese as a nation to say that, -according to the writer’s experience among them, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> -Coolies who emigrate to Singapore, Sydney, and California -are by no means a fair sample of the educated -and wealthy classes who remain at home and drive out -the least useful and least intelligent portion. If one -were to judge of the acquirements, ability, or physical -beauty of the Chinese nation exclusively by the poor -emigrants who cannot successfully compete with their -neighbors, and hence are compelled to go away from -home for success, he would be nearly as sadly misled -as one would be should he form his opinion of the -American people by the inmates of their jails and -poor-houses. There are many noble men and beautiful -women in the interior of China, whether regarded -mentally, morally, or physically. Mr. Taylor did not -see them, and like a faithful scribe he wrote down only -those things he saw, and knew to be true. The -Chinese whom he saw in the ports engaged in unloading -vessels, or doing like menial services, were not -beautiful, and he said so.</p> - -<p>When Mr. Taylor arrived in Hong-Kong he was -received with the same kind hospitality which his very -countenance secured for him in every land. The -United States Commissioner, the Hon. Humphrey -Marshall, who happened to be at Macao, and whom -Mr. Taylor met there on crossing the bay from Hong-Kong, -offered to attach Mr. Taylor to his staff, for a -trip to the seat of war. The great rebellion in the -Kiangsu province, lying north-westerly from Shanghai, -had assumed such threatening proportions that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> -emperor at Peking trembled on his throne. Exaggerated -accounts of the fiendish atrocities of the rebels, -and rumors of great battles and successful sieges had -reached the seaports, and even the peaceful American -merchants at Shanghai feared capture and death. In -view of all this, Mr. Taylor anticipated an exciting -experience. Together with the whole ship’s company, -he felt, when the United States steamer left Hong-Kong -for Shanghai, as if there was a measure of uncertainty -if he ever returned. But the reports had -been so much enlarged in their transmission to Hong-Kong, -that when they arrived at the port of Shanghai -they were delighted to find the place in no immediate -danger of attack from the Chinese. In order to show -the rebels that the Americans were neutral in all the -Chinese quarrels, the Commissioner undertook the -hazardous task of ascending the Yang-tse-kiang River -to the beleaguered town of Nanking. It seems to -have been a foolish undertaking, and viewed from -any diplomatic stand-point, to have been indirectly an -encouragement of the rebellion. It was not so intended, -however, and Mr. Taylor did not give his -opinion of the “good faith” which prompted the sending -of envoys to a local rebellion in the interior of a -“great and friendly nation.” But what good sense -could not do, the shoals and incompetency of the -native pilots did accomplish; and the Commissioner -who was going up the river to pat the rebels on the -back and ask them not to hurt their friends, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> -Americans, was compelled to return to Shanghai. It -would have been better for the United States if the -second undertaking had been equally unsuccessful; -but as Mr. Taylor had no share in it, it is of no further -importance here.</p> - -<p>While at Shanghai he experienced the sensation of -being besieged without seeing an enemy. The frightened -people organized themselves into military companies -and drilled with the sailors. Breastworks were -thrown up and cannon placed ready for action. The -streets were patrolled and a guard kept over the provisions -and ammunition. Tales of approaching hosts -were freely circulated, and once the terrified populace -were informed by an intelligent refugee that the enemy -were within sight. Yet the days passed on; the -Chinese government began to show vitality, and the -great rebellion, with all its fearful butchery and refinement -of cruelty, was extinguished without the molestation -of the foreigners at Shanghai, and was overcome, -notwithstanding the encouraging assurance given the -rebels by the United States Commissioner that our -government was not disposed to interfere with their -outrages.</p> - -<p>While in Shanghai Mr. Taylor wrote some admirable -articles upon the tea culture of China, and upon -the possible commerce with the Pacific coast of America, -which were published in New York and London. -He felt the throes of an earthquake while there, and -had some pleasant interviews with the educated classes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> -of China. He saw the parade of the native soldiers, -and witnessed their grotesque religious ceremonies. -His observation was so close, and his generalization -usually so just, that until within a few years there has -been no book printed in America which gave so much -of the information desired by popular readers in so -little space as Taylor’s account of that visit.</p> - -<p>Early in May Commodore Perry arrived at Shanghai, -prepared for the expedition which the United States -had ordered him to make to Japan, and Mr. Taylor’s -long-felt desire to embark on that enterprise was -gratified. He was compelled to enlist in the navy as -master’s mate, and subject himself and all that he -should write, to the orders of the navy department -and officers of the fleet. It seemed at first to be rather -humiliating terms, but after he had made the acquaintance -of the officers and learned the ways of a ship he -found it a very pleasant position. Thus, from one -calling to another, he turned with a readiness and a -success which were astonishing.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>His Reception on the Man-of-war.—Commodore Perry’s Tribute.—Mr. -Taylor’s Journals.—Visit to the Loo-Choo Islands.—Explorations.—Mr. -Taylor becomes a Favorite.—His Description of the -Country.—Cruise to Japan.—The Purpose of the Expedition.—Mr. -Taylor’s Assistance.—Return to Hong-Kong.—Resigns his -Commission.—Visits Canton.—Sails for America.—St. Helena.—Arrival -in New York.</p> - -</div> - -<p>There was some opposition to Mr. Taylor’s request -to be taken into the United States service, but his persistency -and gentlemanly address not only overcame -the scruples of the Commodore, but soon made him a -general favorite. Commodore Perry, after his return -to the United States, mentioned the circumstances -connected with Mr. Taylor’s enlistment, and used the -following language:—</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“On my arrival at Shanghai I found there Mr. Bayard -Taylor, who had a letter of introduction to me from an -esteemed friend in New York. He had been a long time, -as I understood, exceedingly anxious to join the squadron, -that he might visit Japan, which he could reach in no other -way.</p> - -<p>“On presenting the letter referred to, he at once made a -request to accompany me; but to this application I strongly -objected, intimating to him the determination I had made at -the commencement of the cruise to admit no civilians, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> -explaining how the few who were in the squadron had, by -signing the shipping articles, subjected themselves to all the -restraints and penalties of naval law; that there were no -suitable accommodations for him, and that should he join -the expedition he would be obliged to suffer, with the other -civilians, many discomforts and privations, and would moreover -be restricted, under a general order of the navy department, -from communicating any information to the public -prints or privately to his friends; that all the notes or general -observations made by him during the cruise would -belong to the government, and therefore must be deposited -with me. Notwithstanding this, however, with a full knowledge -of all the difficulties and inconveniences which would -attend his joining the squadron, he still urged his application.</p> - -<p>“Being thus importuned, and withal very favorably -impressed with his gentlemanlike and unassuming manners, -I at last reluctantly consented, and he joined the mess of -Messrs. Heine and Brown on board the ‘Susquehanna.’ -During the short time he remained in the squadron he gained -the respect and esteem of all, and by his habits of observation, -aided by his ready pen, became quite useful in preparing -notes descriptive of various incidents that transpired -during our first brief visit to Japan and the Islands. It -was the only service he could render, and it was afforded -cheerfully. These notes have been used in the preparation -of my report, and due credit has, I trust, been given to -him. Some of the incidents illustrative of the events mentioned -in my official communications were, with my consent, -written out by Mr. Taylor and sent home by him for publication -in the United States. These he has used in his late<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> -work. His original journals were honorably deposited in -my hands. His reports, like those of every other individual -detailed for the performance of a special duty, were of -course delivered to me, and became part of the official -records of the expedition.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>This tribute of friendship and respect, thus freely -bestowed by one holding the high rank of Commodore -Perry, gratified the friends of Mr. Taylor very much -at the time they were written, and will now be prized -by them as a testimonial from the highest and best -source.</p> - -<p>On leaving the port of Shanghai the squadron of -the Commodore proceeded direct to the Loo-Choo -Islands, which were a group of thirty-six islands -lying to the south-west of Japan, and tributary to that -empire. On the 26th of May, 1853, the several -steamers and sailing vessels came to anchor in a harbor -of the Great Loo-Choo Island, but a few miles -from the capital of the kingdom. Immediately Mr. -Taylor’s services as a descriptive writer were brought -into requisition, and so proficient and industrious was -he, and he so much excelled the others with whom he -was associated, that the Commodore saw fit to entrust -to his quick eye and ready pen many of the most -important details of the expedition. His reports or -journals of the explorations were never published in -full, and as the government kept them from him Mr. -Taylor could not use them in his book of travels in -Japan and Loo-Choo. This is much to be regretted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> -now, as the greatly condensed narrative which appeared -in his book does not give the reader a comprehensive -idea of Mr. Taylor’s capabilities. His newspaper -correspondence was always more readable and -full than were the pages of his book; for, between his -desire not to tire the reader nor impoverish the publisher, -he frequently culled and abridged too much. -What a wonderful volume would that be wherein -should be published in full Mr. Taylor’s descriptions -of the countries of Loo-Choo and Japan, without condensation -or abridgment. To illustrate this thought, -and to give a clear specimen of his style, we insert a -page from his diary of the 28th of May, 1853, reciting -his experience when out in a small boat in the harbor -of the Great Loo-Choo Island visiting the coral reef. -It was a very little incident, but we ask the reader to -notice how full of interesting information and beautiful -reference he made his account of it:</p> - -<p>“The crew were Chinamen, wholly ignorant of the -use of oars, and our trip would have been of little -avail had not the sea been perfectly calm. With a little -trouble we succeeded in making them keep stroke, -and made for the coral reef, which separates the northern -from the lower channel. The tide was nearly out, -and the water was very shoal on all the approaches to -the reef. We found, however, a narrow channel winding -between the groves of mimic foliage, and landed -on the spongy rock, which rose about a foot above the -water. Here the little pools that seamed the surface<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> -were alive with crabs, snails, star-fish, sea-prickles, -and numbers of small fish of the intensest blue color. -We found several handsome shells clinging to the coral. -But all our efforts to secure one of the fish failed. -The tide was ebbing so fast that we were obliged to -return for fear of grounding the boat. We hung for -some time over the coral banks, enraptured with the -beautiful forms and colors exhibited by this wonderful -vegetation of the sea. The coral grew in rounded -banks, with the clear, deep spaces of water between, -resembling, in miniature, ranges of hills covered with -autumnal forests. The loveliest tints of blue, violet, -pale-green, yellow, and white gleamed through the -waves. And all the varied forms of vegetable life were -grouped together along the edges of cliffs and precipices, -hanging over the chasms worn by currents below. -Through those paths and between the stems of -the coral groves, the blue fish shot hither and thither -like arrows of the purest lapis-lazuli: and others of a -dazzling emerald color, with tails and fins tipped with -gold, eluded our chase like the green bird in the -Arabian story. Far down below in the dusky depth -of the waters we saw now and then some large brown -fish hovering stealthily about the entrances to the coral -groves, as if lying in wait for their bright little inhabitants. -The water was so clear that the eye was -deceived as to its depths and we seemed now to rest on -the branching tops of some climbing forest, now to -hang suspended as in mid air between the crests of two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> -opposing ones. Of all the wonders of the sea, which -have furnished food for poetry and fable, this was assuredly -the most beautiful.”</p> - -<p>That trait, which characterized Mr. Taylor, accounts -in a measure for the inclination of all persons who met -him to hold his companionship and acquaintance. As -Mr. Taylor’s esteemed friend, Mr. E. P. Whipple, of -Boston, once beautifully remarked of another, Mr. -Taylor was sought by men, “because they learned -more of the world and its beauties through his eyes -than through their own.” His services in giving an -accurate idea of the countries they explored were invaluable, -because it was not only necessary to visit -those countries and open their ports to commerce, but -it was also necessary to give to the American people -such a idea of the advantages and conveniences of -trade as to induce them to enter upon it. Nothing -could be clearer than his views of life in these islands, -nothing more complete than his enumeration of the -products, manufactures, and needs of the countries -they visited. The publication in full of all his notes -and observations as suggested to the Naval Department -by the officers of the Squadron at the time, would have -given our people a better understanding of the importance -of the commerce and the character of the people, -than any other report could do. However, the Commodore -used a great many pages of Mr. Taylor’s journal -while making his report to the United States Government.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p> - -<p>Mr. Taylor was detailed to attend nearly every -important excursion, and was a most hearty and persevering -explorer. He pushed into the interior of an -unknown jungle, intent on finding new flowers, new -minerals, or new animals. He ascended every mountain -which was accessible, and ventured into every cave -that could be reached by boat or foot. The Great -Loo-Choo Island became familiar to him, and its flora -and fauna were indelibly catalogued in his mind, while -the varied views of mountain, vale, forest, bay, and -sea were engraved upon his memory. By his good -nature and kindly regard for the welfare of the Loo-Choo -natives when they met, he contributed not a -little toward the safety and success of the exploration -in that island.</p> - -<p>From Loo-Choo the fleet sailed to the Bonin Islands, -where a harbor suitable for a depot of supplies was -found and land purchased by the Commodore for -government buildings should his choice of a harbor be -confirmed. The ships returned to Loo-Choo and proceeded -directly to the bay of Yeddo in Japan.</p> - -<p>For two hundred years that important nation had -preserved its exclusiveness, and had become almost as -unknown to the western nations as an undiscovered -continent. Almost every commercial nation had, from -time to time, attempted to secure a footing for a trading-post -or a harbor for their vessels. In every -instance they had failed, and the civilized world had -looked upon Japan as a country sealed beyond hope<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> -of breaking. It must have appeared to every one, -including the Commodore himself, that the undertaking -in which he was engaged was an especially difficult -enterprise. How could he hope to succeed where -England, Portugal, Holland. Italy, and Russia had -failed? Yet he succeeded beyond anything the most -hopeful had desired; and as a result of his expedition -a mighty nation and a fertile country were restored to -the family of nations.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus10"> -<img src="images/illus10.jpg" width="700" height="375" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">PAGAN TEMPLE IN JAPAN.</p> -</div> - -<p>In that expedition Mr. Taylor took a deep interest, -and with great enthusiasm wrote letters to his home -descriptive of Fusiyama, Kanagawa, and the scenery -around Yeddo Bay. During the long delay made by -the Japanese authorities, to impress the Commodore -with their dignity, he was engaged with eye and ear -and pen in the service of his country. With the devotion -which marked all his undertakings, he noted -everything which passed under his scrutiny, in order -that the Commodore might be informed of every -detail. Many travellers pass months at Yokohama, -Yeddo, or Nagasaki, making investigations and excursions, -without finding out so much of interest as Mr. -Taylor saw in a single day. That natural and acquired -acuteness of observation, and that intuitive comprehension -which made him so conspicuous, are well worthy -of study and imitation by all persons who are -ambitious to excel, whether engaged in travelling or -in any other occupation. So thoroughly had he disciplined -himself in the inspection of all that surrounded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> -him, that when he arrived in Japan, the ships, -the junks, the people, their dress, their customs, their -food, their language, the vegetation, the minerals, the -animals, the birds, the landscapes, the bays, the promontories, -the islands, the sea, the air, the sky, the -stars, the wind, and the sunlight were each and all -full of suggestions and valuable instruction. One -could not follow Mr. Taylor’s writings in the closing -years of his travels without becoming conscious of -ignorance and short-sightedness concerning the commonest -things of life. It made his readers feel, oftentimes, -when they discovered how much he had noticed -which they had overlooked, as boys feel when a playmate -finds a silver dollar on a spot which they have -passed and repassed without his good luck; with the -difference, however, that Mr. Taylor’s good fortune in -that respect was the result of hard work and careful -culture.</p> - -<p>After the close of the preliminary negotiations, and -a hasty survey of the bay of Yeddo, the fleet departed -on a short cruise to Hong-Kong, in order to give the -Japanese emperor time to think over the propositions -which the United States Government had made to His -Majesty.</p> - -<p>The trip to Hong-Kong, by way of the Loo-Choo -Islands, was without special incident, and on the 7th of -August he was again in the harbor which he had left -in the month of March. For five months he had -known what it was to be a seaman and made subject<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> -to the strict orders enforced on a man-of-war. It was -a fresh experience. He was keen enough to recognize -the merits and failings of naval discipline and naval -drill. He saw that many improvements might be -made in both. He thought, furthermore, that the -ships themselves might be constructed on a better -pattern. Hence, he boldly recommended changes -whenever the opportunity came for him to speak -through the public prints. He had become much -attached to the officers and men of his ship, and parted -with them at Hong-Kong with the feeling of sincere -regret. He had made it his home on board, and had -been so contented and so kindly treated that he felt -the pangs of homesickness as he shook hands and -went over the side for the last time.</p> - -<p>Although he had enlisted for the usual term of -years, as the laws of the United States recognized no -shorter term, and ran the risk of being held to the -terms of his enlistment, yet there was a tacit understanding -between him and the Commodore that he -should be allowed to resign when the fleet returned to -Macao. Consequently, when he presented at that -port his resignation it was promptly accepted, and he -became a civilian again. He found it nearly as awkward -to be a landsman as he had at first to be a sailor, -and often looked out on the great men-of-war, as they -lay at anchor, with an indescribable yearning to tread -their decks.</p> - -<p>From Macao, he made excursions to Hong-Kong<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> -and Canton, finding friends that pleased him, and an -aristocratic snobbery that displeased him, in the former -place, and dirt, vice, and cheating in the latter, -which made him further disgusted with the Chinese -race. In Canton, as elsewhere, he spoke of them in -strong terms, condemning their importation into the -United States in a manner to please the bitterest -hater of the Celestials to be found on our Pacific -coast. Yet he visited the shops, practised the “pigeon -English,” visited the great temple of Honan, -tested the power of opium by smoking it himself, -made a tour into the country, interested himself in -the foreign factories and the local government, and -made the acquaintance of many enterprising foreign -merchants. But his aversion to the Chinese, doubtless -intensified by the wild rumors of barbarous deeds -then current on account of the rebellion, was not -abated after he had seen the great metropolis; and he -frankly admitted, in his letters and in his book, that -he was glad to get away from China.</p> - -<p>At Canton, he took passage in a sailing vessel bound -for New York, that being his most direct and least -expensive route. He was anxious to return to the -United States, because he had been absent over two -years, and because of some financial arrangements -which he considered it important to make. He felt -also that if he should publish a record of his travels in -the form of books, the sooner they were issued after -his letters had appeared in the “Tribune,” the better<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> -for the publishers and for himself. In this undertaking, -however, he was much delayed.</p> - -<p>The ship in which he sailed, passed the Philippine -Islands and the coast of Java, and rounding the Cape -of Good Hope, stopped for water at the isle of St. -Helena. The body of the Emperor Napoleon had -been removed to Paris, but Mr. Taylor found it a very -interesting and romantic spot. He was as much -shocked, however, by the desecration of the spot by -the practical herd-keepers, as he was by the profanity -of the machine-rhymester who marred the grotto of -the poet Camoens at Macao with a doggerel composition. -Mr. Taylor felt the absurdity of such profanations, -as none but poetical natures can feel them.</p> - -<p>From St. Helena, the voyage was not unusually -eventful, and after one hundred and one days at sea, -and with Mr. Taylor nearly that number of days -engaged in writing and correcting, they arrived in -New York on the 20th of December, 1853. His welcome -to New York and to his old home was one of the -most pleasant experiences of his life, and he often -mentioned it as being as exciting as the event of his -first return when he walked into the old homestead in -his German walking-suit.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>Takes up the Editorial Pen.—Publication of His “Poems of the -Orient.”—His Books of Travel.—Lecturing before Lyceums.—Friendship -of Richard H. Stoddard.—Private Correspondence.—Love -of Fun.—Resolves to Build a Home at Kennett.—Charges -of Intemperance.—Preparations for a Third Trip to -Europe.—Acquaintance with Thackeray.</p> - -</div> - -<p>Immediately upon his return from China, he entered -again the traces for hard and long literary work. He -had written poems, and snatches of poems, verses, -and couplets in his spare hours as a traveller, and his -note-book and guide-books were full of such impulsive -productions, written on the margin and on the -fly-leaves. Those scattered compositions he desired -to reduce to satisfactory and convenient shape for -publication. Some of them had been written on the -seas, some on the Nile, one in Spain, one in Constantinople, -one in Jerusalem, two in Gotha, and several in -railways and steamboats. The thought of publishing -them in the form of a book, was suggested to him by -one of his intimate friends in New York,—either -Mr. Stoddard or Mr. Ripley,—his intention having -been to publish them from time to time in some periodical, -in much the same manner as he had contributed -to the “Union Magazine,” some eight years before.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> -But he had sufficient appreciation of his own genius to -act promptly on such a suggestion of his friends, and -the first few weeks after his return were occupied with -that work, in addition to the work of arranging and -correcting his unpublished letters to the “Tribune.” -When he had completed the “Poems of the Orient,” -it was published by Ticknor & Fields, of Boston, as -a companion volume to the “Rhymes of Travel,” and -“Book of Romances,” both of which were united in -one volume, in 1856, under the title of “Poems of -Home and Travel.” In the preparation of these -poems, he was greatly assisted by the kindly and discreet -criticism of his friend Stoddard, which he not -only acknowledged in the remarkable dedication -“From Mount Tmolus,” but mentioned it to his -relatives with expressions of thankfulness. The public -owe a debt to Mr. Stoddard for his generosity and -hospitality to Mr. Taylor, as well as for the beautiful -poems and truthful biographies which he has written. -A true man is a friendly critic, if a critic at all. -Such was Richard H. Stoddard.</p> - -<p>Mr. Taylor was then called into a new work by a -curious public, who wished to see the man who had -wandered so far, and had seen so much of this great -earth. Hence he was repeatedly called upon to lecture -in various cities of the Eastern and Middle States. His -financial condition was not so prosperous as to preclude -the possibility of future needs, and as the -invitations to lecture were accompanied by very liberal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> -offers in the way of remuneration, he accepted many -of them. It was, however, an uncongenial occupation. -Public speaking had never been recognized as -one of his great gifts, and the great masses who gather -on such occasions, gather more for amusement than -study. They wished to see how he appeared. The -ladies desired to know if he was handsome, well -dressed, and what was the color of his eyes and hair. -The men wished to see if he had become a foreigner -in speech or manner. The boys wanted to hear bear -stories, and the girls of wild giraffes and affectionate -gazelles. Not that the public desired to hear pure -nonsense; but that it wished its lessons very much -diluted. The polished essays of Mr. Taylor, with their -poetical language and refinement of expression, were -of little or no account, and a view of his portly physique, -and the right to say that they had seen him, -and heard him, satisfied the greater portion. To him, -such audiences were not agreeable. Whenever he -could find a friend like O’Brien or Stoddard, he -enjoyed reading his own productions; but to be set up -as a show, had in it no such satisfaction. Being also -very much engaged in preparing his books of travel, -and in writing for the “Tribune,” often writing on -the railway trains, and in hotels, he was weary, and -could not enter into the labor of public teaching with -the zest which might otherwise have been expected of -him. Yet, in point of numbers, and financial returns, -his tour, during the winter of 1854, was successful,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> -and the harvest for the season of 1855 promised to be -still larger.</p> - -<p>In addition to the work already mentioned, he had a -great number of private correspondents, whose letters -he answered with astonishing punctuality. Men in -Egypt, China, England, Germany, California, and the -United States, sent him letters of inquiry about the -best routes, and cheapest outfit for travel. To which -he replied as fully as he could, always remembering the -like favors done him when in the printing-office at -West Chester. There was a large number of friendly -acquaintances in many parts of the world who desired -to sustain a correspondence with him, and, often, his -desk at the “Tribune” had piled upon it as many -as fourscore letters, brought by a single mail. It -seems incredible when we think of the amount of -writing Mr. Taylor did during the years of 1854 and -1855.</p> - -<p>Owing to the great amount of work which could -not be postponed, and the fact that the “Tribune” had -the moral right to his letters before he offered them for -sale in the form of a book, the last of his three -volumes of travel did not appear until August, 1855.</p> - -<p>At one time, he entertained the idea of publishing -a book of songs, and consulted with his publisher concerning -the probable success of such a volume. But -having had his attention called to the fact that the -veriest trash answered the purpose of musical composers -fully as well as sterling poetry, he abandoned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> -the idea. The thought was probably suggested to him -by the writings of Thomas Moore, whose “Lalla -Rookh” was frequently brought to mind while Mr. -Taylor was writing out the chapters of his book, -wherein he described his visit to Agra and Delhi in -India. The objections which he found to a volume of -songs, seemed equally applicable to single productions -which might be included in such a category, and he -not only suppressed many he had written, but cautiously -cut out verses in such as had been printed, -before he allowed them to be published again. He went -so far as to request that the song for which he obtained -the Jenny Lind prize in 1850, should be kept forever -out of print. Some of these are said to be among his -papers in Germany, where his body now lies, and the -writer sincerely wishes to see them all in print at a -day not very remote, together with the epistolary -poems and friendly sonnets which have been sent by -him to the distinguished scholars and poets who -enjoyed his friendship. It will take time to gather -them, but, when collected, will make the best of reading, -and will show the joyous, simple, sincere character -of the poet, as no amount of prose can do.</p> - -<p>As early as October, 1854, Mr. Taylor conceived -the idea of building a summer residence near the old -homestead at Kennett. It may have been a purpose -entertained in his youth, for he often mentions, directly -and indirectly, in his early writings, the scenery and -the people about his home at Kennett. But in that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> -year the idea appears to have assumed the form of a -possibility, for he wrote to one of his old schoolmates, -who resided that autumn in Jersey City, saying that -he began to see his way for a house of his own at -Kennett. The letter set in circulation the report -that he was soon to be married; but he had kept -his own counsel so well, and held aloof so studiously -from the company of ladies, that none of -the gossips could possibly hint at the person of his -choice. This loyalty to his home and desire to -return to it like a weary bird to its nest, was a -beautiful trait of his character, and testifies strongly -to his natural goodness of heart. For it will be found -that the noblest men of all ages and professions have -loved the homes of their childhood, while the selfish, -narrow, barbarous, and mean, universally regard their -early associations with neglect or contempt.</p> - -<p>A touching scene arises before the writer, as he -reaches this theme, and the tears will come to the eye -and cheek! Away in that German land sleeps the -son and brother. The romantic home at Kennett, -stands cosy, yet stately, among the winter-stricken -trees. Inside are the dear ones whom neither years, -nor honors, nor wanderings have induced him to forget—the -father and the mother in the mansion of their -son. There is the sister, whose feet, after years of -absence, tread again the paths of home. There the -visitor feels the gloom of a distant death. Windows -that flashed with light; drawing-rooms that were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> -made charming by the cheerful faces of the great and -good, are now suggestive of sadness and disaster. -The cold winds shake the dry vines, and cry around -its cornices. The loved ones are there,—waiting, -waiting for him to come home! He never disappointed -them before. Why comes he not? Why do -not his letters come with the mail?</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Moan, ye wild winds! around the pane,</div> -<div class="verse">And fall thou drear December rain!”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Ah, we know the meaning now of those sad words. -For we have lived them too!</p> - -<p>Ever looking forward to the time when he could -give his parents a more luxurious home, feeling most -keenly the rapid strides of time, as he looked upon -their whitening locks, unwilling to prosper alone, and -promoting ever the welfare of those he loved, he -strove with an unchangeable determination to accumulate -sufficient money to build a house near the old farm, -that should be a home for all, and a resting-place for -himself. To this, in part, was due his incessant work -through the years of 1854 and 1855. His books brought -him a considerable return; he received a reasonable -compensation as editor and lecturer, and he had lifted -the load of debt which the “Phœnixville Pioneer” had -bequeathed to him, but which no one believed he was -able to pay; and could look forward to a competency -and, perhaps, to wealth. Yet, in all his work, there -was a cheerfulness that seemed to give rest while the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> -work went on. He often indulged in fun, was ever -joking with his friends, and indulging in playful pranks -with his acquaintances. Usually, however, his facetiousness -was itself a method of self-discipline,—a -different kind of work. He used to visit his friends -whenever an evening could be spared from necessary -labor, and spend the hours in writing and exchanging -humorous burlesques, acrostics, sonnets, and parodies. -Sometimes he would “race” with his literary friends -in writing lines of poetry on a given subject, and -although, as he afterward acknowledged, he often came -in second best, yet he enjoyed the sport and the satisfaction -of the victor none the less. The same fun-loving, -mischievous, kind-hearted boy, who enjoyed -writing extravagant verses, and sending them to his -schoolmates, walked the streets of New York in 1855. -Time had given discretion, sorrow had given reserve; -but the fun bubbled out whenever the waters were -moved. His mirth was less ostentatious, but not less -hearty. Loving a bottle of beer, or wine, for the -sake of sociability, for in his younger days it was -universally considered a necessity, he never drank -to excess, nor was ever regarded by his companions as -an intemperate man. Envious simpletons have sometimes -accused him of intemperate habits during those -two years; but so well-known and frank was his life, -that it would have been then, as it certainly is now, a -waste of time to deny so absurd a statement. So-called -temperance men are often the most intemperate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> -people known in public life. As temperance, in fact, -consists of temperance in all things, as well as in the -use of intoxicating drinks, the real temperance people -of America will discourage alike the excess in the use -of stimulants, and that excess in the use of epithets -and misrepresentation, which, by the resulting reaction, -encourages the use of that which they wish to prohibit. -Intemperate speeches, like intemperate laws, and -intemperate drinking, are to be condemned and -avoided by all who believe the Highest Moral Standard -known to man. It is exceedingly intemperate to -circulate a falsehood about any person, and especially -of one of our own American family, who has done so -much for our nation, and “never wished harm to any -man.”</p> - -<p>It had long been Mr. Taylor’s wish to take his -sisters and brother to Europe with him, in order that -they might enjoy those scenes which had pleased him -so much; and he had often mentioned, in his letters -to them from abroad, how much more he would enjoy -the advantages of travel, if they could be with him to -share in his pleasure. He was too generous to desire -the exclusive enjoyment of anything, and was especially -anxious that those related to him should reap the -benefits of all his labors. Hence, in the spring of 1856 -(not without correspondence with one in Gotha, however), -he arranged his plans for another series of -excursions in Europe, and persuaded his sisters and -brother to accompany him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was during those two years of labor that he made -the acquaintance of many of the distinguished literary -men of Massachusetts, and in one of those years—1855—he -secured the acquaintance and friendship of William -Makepeace Thackeray, who visited this country -then for the second time, and delivered his long-remembered -lectures on the “English Humorists of -the Eighteenth Century,” and “The Four Georges.” -So well known, and so much respected had Mr. Taylor -become, that he was sought by the great of both -continents, and when he departed for Europe, in the -spring of 1856, the kind wishes of thousands of -America’s representative men and women went with -him, and a welcome awaited him on the shores of -England from as many more.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>Visit to Europe.—Reception in England.—Company in Charge.—Starts -for Sweden.—Stockholm.—The Dangerous Ride.—The -Severe Cold.—Arrival in Lapland.—First Experience with Canoes -and Reindeers.—Becomes a Lapp.—The Extreme North.—The -Days without a Sun.—“Yankee Doodle.”—The Return.—Study -in Stockholm.—Return to Germany and London.—Embarks for -Norway.—Meets his Friend at Christiania.—The Coast of Norway.—The -Midnight Sun.—Trip across Norway and Sweden.—Return -to Germany.</p> - -</div> - -<p>Without bringing the living into a notoriety which -they certainly do not seek, and which might be unpleasant -for them, we cannot give an extended account -of that summer trip of Mr. Taylor and his friends in -the countries of Europe, already so familiar to him. -He devoted himself to the welfare of his companions, -and appeared to enjoy himself exceedingly. England -appeared brighter and more attractive than he supposed -it possible; and his pleasure in visiting historical -places was doubled by the fact that he had others to -appreciate and enjoy it with him. His sisters inherited -enough of that same instinctive comprehension of -vegetable nature, and enough of that fellowship with -kindred human nature, to regard the landscapes and -the people as he had regarded them, and made, as -he wrote to his friends in Philadelphia, wonderfully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> -observing travellers. Other friends there were, who, -with his brother, made up a pleasant party, over which -Mr. Taylor was for the time the guide and protector. -He visited many places where he had never been before, -but he had studied his theme so closely during his previous -visits to Europe that even in strange places he felt -the gratification of one who had been there before, -and to whom each scene and relic was familiar. His -little party was often interrupted by the calls made -upon him to attend dinner-parties and select gatherings -of literary people; but he was not a neglectful -escort. His acquaintance with the men and women of -London whose names are known to all readers of English -literature, was promoted very much by the kindness -of Mr. Thackeray, who spared no pains to introduce -Mr. Taylor into that “charmed circle.” No one can -appreciate the pleasure there was in being introduced -to the authors of whom the world has said so much, -unless he has followed them like a friend through their -various volumes and learned to love them there. -Historians, essayists, biographers, poets, musical composers, -and scientific authors clasped his hand in -London and welcomed him to their homes and their -love. At last he felt that he had reached the heights -for which he had been striving, and was regarded as -an equal by those whose plane of thought he had so -long striven to reach. But that feeling had its reaction, -for he often examined himself and repeated to -himself his published poetry, and, as he described it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> -himself, wondered what there could be in it worthy of -reproduction in Old England. His association with -the master-minds of England opened to him a wider -field of literature, and impressed him with the importance -of writing something loftier and more artistic -than anything he yet had undertaken. To that task -he turned all the forces of his nature; so that on leaving -England his friends noticed through all his vivacity -and unceasing attention a tendency to abstraction; as -though some important theme unspoken was uppermost -in his mind. He was searching for an ideal -which should not copy Tennyson, nor Wordsworth, -nor Browning, but should equal theirs in conception -and execution. He felt that irresistible yearning for -the highest poetical work, which is the surest indication -of genius. He was not egotistic, he was not foolishly -ambitious, but all his life he had been seeking -his place in the realms of poetry, feeling morally sure, -notwithstanding his own temporary misgivings, that -there was a great work for him to do.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus11"> -<img src="images/illus11.jpg" width="700" height="410" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">RUSSIAN SLEDGES.</p> -</div> - -<p>However, the needs of the present crowded out the -dreams of the future, as they so often do in the lives -of others, and after a delightful summer in the lands he -loved, and a visit to those who were now dearer than -the most gorgeous landscapes, he determined upon a -trip to the frozen regions of Lapland. He undertook -that journey with evident reluctance. His communion -with the best minds of America and Europe had taught -him that of the works which he had published his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> -poetry would live much longer than his travels. He -found that the place of a poet in the scale of human -merit was loftier than that of a journalistic traveller. -He had left home with a feeling of uncertainty about -his future course; but there was no longer hesitation -or doubt. He would follow out the routes laid out and -keep his promises to the newspapers and publishers, -and was determined to acquire an insight into the -Scandinavian language in view of an enterprise in the -way of translation, which, however, was never fully -matured nor undertaken. But his interest in travel -had lost its chiefest charms. It would not, could not, -satisfy his ambition. Some critics have accounted for -this lack of zeal by the nearness of his marriage, which -would take him from his wanderings. But the best -reason is the one he gave himself; viz., that he desired -to undertake some more permanent task—one that -should live when his travels were forgotten.</p> - -<p>Hence, that indescribable lack which his readers -have so universally found in his books of travels published -after that date. He could not rid himself of the -burden, nor cease to ponder upon the subjects which -seemed worthy of a great poem.</p> - -<p>Starting from Germany Dec. 1, 1856, and embarking -on a steamer which ran between Lubec and Stockholm, -he entered upon an undertaking more hazardous -and uncomfortable than anything he had ventured -upon before. But his experience taught him to fear -nothing and to move on so long as any other living<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> -being had lived on the same route. He had determined -to see a day without a sunrise and a night without -a sunset. To be able to state that fact in a book, -would, in itself, ensure its ready sale. Of this he -had been assured in New York by his friend Dr. E. -K. Kane, whose opinion was entitled to much consideration, -as the Doctor had been far more extensively -engaged in explorations, and had travelled many -thousand miles further than Mr. Taylor. Having -once decided to see that wonderful sight, nothing in -the way of privation could prevent the accomplishment -of his purpose.</p> - -<p>The steamer from Lubec was a rough, uncouth, inconvenient -craft, and the sea-sick voyage which Mr. Taylor -and his friend made to Stockholm was not an -auspicious beginning for a tour so long and so dangerous. -But he relapsed into his old habit, acquired in -Asia, of regarding no delay with surprise or impatience, -and refusing to feel certain of anything until -he possessed it; and as neither carelessness, neglect, -lack of sleep or food was allowed to disturb him, he -made the company cheerful under the most distressing -circumstances.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus12"> -<img src="images/illus12.jpg" width="700" height="410" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">LAZARETTO CHRISTIANSAND.</p> -</div> - -<p>On his arrival in Stockholm he could not speak a -word of the language, and had to depend mostly upon -his own common-sense in the selection of an outfit. -But his quick ear and tractile tongue soon caught up -words and phrases, the meaning of which he learned by -their effect when spoken, and when he started northward<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> -he was able to ask for nearly everything he -needed in the native language. Of his ride from town -to town, by diligence and by lumbering sleighs, along -the shores of the Bothnian Gulf, we cannot give any -extended account, and it can easily be found by any -reader who did not peruse it at the time of its publication. -But it answers our purpose to note how he -appeared and what he suffered. It was a terrible ride. -Day after day and night after night he pushed on, -losing many meals, and often without sleep, in a -temperature creeping downward far below zero, and -the sun sinking lower and lower on the southern horizon. -Frequently overturned in the snow, his beard -and hair a mass of solid ice, his eyelids frozen together, -his nose frost-bitten, his hands and feet momentarily -in danger of freezing, he kept heroically on his course, -allowing no rumors of unendurable cold or impassable -mountains, of snow ahead to drive him from his purpose. -With a wisdom that saved his life, he fell with -perfect <em>abandon</em> into the habits of Swedes, Finns, and -Lapps, as he in turn found himself in their country -and society, eating what they ate, and wearing such -skins as they wore, and following their habits, excepting -their dirt and their promiscuous arrangements for -sleeping. Around the gulf to Tornea, and thence to -Muoniovara, he sped northward with a haste which -astonished the natives, and a shortness of time which -has surprised many travellers who have followed him -on that difficult route. He made such acquaintances<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> -and such friends on his way northward that they -wished him God-speed as he passed on, and welcomed -him in a royal manner on his return. On the borders -of Lapland he took his first lessons in reindeer-driving, -and a most amusing experience he had of it. He -could not at first balance himself in the narrow boat -which was built for snow navigation, and he was frequently -overturned in fathomless piles of snow; and -as he did not fully understand how to check the speed -of the animal, he flew like the wind over drifts, hollows, -and around corners with a most dangerous -speed. Many men would have given up the task, -after being frozen, kicked, bruised, and pulled half out -of joint by the first trial. But such experiences were -regarded by him as a joke, and laughing over past mishaps, -he tried again and again, until he could guide a -deer and balance himself in the narrow pulk as skilfully -as the Lapps themselves. He was not a traveller -who sought luxury and ease. He wished to sound all -the shoals and depths of local experiences. Some of -the trials were very hazardous, and make one’s hair -rise as he reads of them. Yet Mr. Taylor appears to -have put a blind trust in fate and went boldly on. In -all these visits and undertakings he forgot not his -Muse, and repeated “Afraja” and the “Arctic Lover” -when the snow blew too furiously or the cold was too -far below zero to engage in original composition.</p> - -<p>With the thermometer varying from zero to forty -degrees below he traversed the wildest part of Lapland,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> -which lies between the Bothnian Gulf and the -Northern Ocean.</p> - -<p>At Kautockeino, far beyond the Arctic Circle, he -found friends, through the letter of a mutual acquaintance, -and recorded with his usual kindness of heart, -how good and how generous they were to him. There, -too, he saw the day without a sunrise, which he had -promised himself to see, and his description of the -white earth, the blue sky, the saffron and orange flushes -of the morning, and the crimson glow of the evening, -all combined in a few moments of time as the sun approached -the line of the horizon and sank again without -peeping over it, is one of the most charming and -graphic paragraphs to be found in literature. There, -too, he saw the moon wheel through her entire circuit, -without a rising and without a setting. There he -made sketches of the dwellings and the people which, -after so much practice, he was able to take in a very -accurate and artistic manner, and which served afterwards -for illustrations in the pages of a magazine. -There he met a Lapp by the name of “Lars,” and -meeting the name often afterwards, suggested the -name for that poem of “Lars,” now as popular in Norway -as in the United States. There, in that extreme -north, in the house of a native missionary, he found a -piano, and was half beside himself with joy when the -kind-hearted ministers wife played “Yankee Doodle.” -She had heard Ole Bull play it at Christiania, and -caught the tune in that way.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span></p> - -<p>His return to Stockholm was more tedious and dangerous -than his northward journey, for the weather was -colder and the storms more severe. But his reception -at the miserable huts along the route, where he had -stopped on his journey northward, was always so -hearty and friendly that he felt no longer in a strange -land. It was a repetition of his experience elsewhere. -He was loved at sight, and has not been forgotten to -this day by the humble friends he made. Nothing -shows the whole-souled manner in which he threw himself -into the feelings and habits of the people, better -than the expressions which he used in his letters concerning -the scenery. He felt so much like a Swede, -that he loved the landscapes with the devotion, of a -native. Notwithstanding he had used all the superlative -terms which our language furnished, in which to describe -the scenery of the tropics, yet there he went -further and declares with great enthusiasm, that the -South had no such beautiful scenery as the ice-bound -forests and mountains of Sweden. To him, when he -saw them, there were no landscapes to compare with -those before him. The transparent crystals, the purity -of the snow, the shape of the half-buried trees, the -boundless plains of white, and the gleams of acres of -diamonds when the frosty spirals greet the morning -sun, all possessed a charm beyond the attractions of -any other land, so long as he was their associate. He -became a Swede, and knew, when his experience was -over, just how a Swede lived and how he felt, what he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> -loved and what he enjoyed. Thus he came to a more -thorough understanding of the people, and had a better -appreciation of their literature, than any other traveller -known to the public prints.</p> - -<p>On his return to Stockholm, February 14, he set -about the work of learning the language and literature -of the Swedes. For nearly three months he kept close -to his books and his practice in the gymnasium, and -although it seems almost impossible, it is said by his -associates that he could then read fluently any work to -be found in the Norse language.</p> - -<p>He left Stockholm on the 6th of May, taking a -steamer for Copenhagen, from which place he purposed -to take a steamer for Germany. At Copenhagen he -met Hans Christian Andersen, the great Danish poet, -by whom Mr. Taylor was received most cordially. -Thus, one after another, the great men of the world -were added to the list of friends found by this son -of an humble American farmer. Andersen afterwards -sent Mr. Taylor copies of his poems and essays before -they were printed, and in many ways showed his regard -for the American poet. There Mr. Taylor met Prof. -Rafn, the archæologist, and Goldschmidt, the author of -the “The Jew,” and editor of a magazine.</p> - -<p>Prof. Rafn, gave Mr. Taylor his initiation into the -beauties of Icelandic poetry, for the professor was an -earnest admirer of northern lore, and loved to converse -with any one who took an interest in it. Ho read some -of the verses which he especially admired, for Mr. Taylor’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> -criticism, and Mr. Taylor was so delighted with -them that he resolved to study the literature of Iceland -and at some time to visit the Island.</p> - -<p>From Copenhagen Mr. Taylor hurried over to Germany -to look after his friends, and after a stay of a few -days hastened to London on business connected with -his books. He left London about the first of July, -after seeing his relatives depart for America, and -taking a steamer at Hull, sailed for Christiania in -Norway. The steamer stopped at Christiansand, -where the rugged, broken promontories loom up -so grandly over sea and bay. No harbor is more picturesque -than that of Christiansand, and no coast -more uneven. Perhaps the best description of the -coast from Christiansand to Apendal, given by Mr. -Taylor, is to be found in his poem of “Lars,” -wherein Lars and his Quaker wife sailed from Hull for -Apendal.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Calm autumn skies were o’er them and the sea</div> -<div class="verse">Swelled in unwrinkled glass: they scarcely knew</div> -<div class="verse">How sped the voyage until Lindesnaes,</div> -<div class="verse">At first a cloud, stood fast and spread away</div> -<div class="verse">To flanking capes, with gaps of blue between;</div> -<div class="verse">Then rose, and showed, above the precipice,</div> -<div class="verse">The firs of Norway climbing thick and high</div> -<div class="verse">To wilder crests that made the inland gloom.</div> -<div class="verse">In front, the sprinkled skerries pierced the wave;</div> -<div class="verse">Between then, slowly glided in and out</div> -<div class="verse">The tawny sails, while houses low and red</div> -<div class="verse">Hailed their return or sent them fearless forth.</div> -<div class="verse">‘This is thy Norway, Lars; it looks like thee,’</div> -<div class="verse">Said Ruth: ‘it has a forehead firm and bold:</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> -<div class="verse">It sets its foot below the reach of storms,</div> -<div class="verse">Yet hides, methinks, in each retiring vale,</div> -<div class="verse">Delight in toil, contentment, love, and peace.’”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse indent6">“‘To starboard, yonder lies the isle</div> -<div class="verse">As I described it; here, upon our lee</div> -<div class="verse">Is mainland all, and there the Nid comes down,</div> -<div class="verse">The timber-shouldering Nid, from endless woods</div> -<div class="verse">And wilder valleys where scant grain is grown.</div> -<div class="verse">Now bend your glances as my finger points,—</div> -<div class="verse">Lo, there it is, the spire of Apendal.’”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Arrangements had been made with his intimate German -friend, whom he first met in Egypt, and in whom -Mr. Taylor then took such a deep interest, to meet him -at the hotel in Christiania, from which place they purposed -to start on a trip overland through Norway to -Drontheim, and from that city by steamer to the -northern capes of Norway, where the summer sun did -not rise or set. Another “sacred triad” was formed—one -German and two Americans—equally fortunate -and equally pleasant with the former triad in Egypt.</p> - -<p>Their course lay through the rugged and drear landscape -of Southern Norway, and at the time they made -their journey the sky was overcast and the air loaded -with moisture, giving every bleak cliff a bleaker appearance, -and every barren waste a gloomier aspect. With -all his poetical nature, Mr. Taylor did not find much -to admire on his way to Drontheim. His sympathy -was aroused for the poor farmers who dwell in such a -solitude as seemed to envelop the land, and he was glad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> -when the gleams of the river announced their approach -to Drontheim.</p> - -<p>From Drontheim they sailed by the Hammerfest line -on the 18th of July, following the coast so noted for -its fantastic crags and startling cliffs. The coast -scenery from Drontheim to Hammerfest is unquestionably -the most broken and grand in the world. Its -black towers, enormous arches, gigantic peaks, and -resounding caverns excel anything in the way of sombre -grandeur that travellers elsewhere have described.</p> - -<p>As they approached the Arctic Circle the mountains -became capped with snow, and chilly winds blew off -the land, and the days became so long that the evening -and the morning succeeded each other with but an -intervening twilight. Gradually the midnights grew -brighter until, as they proceeded round the North Cape, -the sun shone in all its splendor throughout the -twenty-four hours.</p> - -<p>After several days spent in visiting the small fishing -villages along the northern coast, they again turned -southward and disembarked at Drontheim, from which -place they took passage to Bergen.</p> - -<p>From Bergen they travelled on horseback and by -boats, over the interior lakes to Christiania, and from -that city through the interior of Wermeland and Delecarlia -to Stockholm, where they arrived about the -middle of September. There Mr. Taylor remained -long enough to call on many of the friends whom he -had made during the previous winter, and then the -“triad” departed for Berlin and Gotha.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>His Marriage.—German Relatives.—Intention of visiting Siberia.—Goes -to Greece instead.—Dalmatia.—Spolato.—Arrival at -Athens.—His first View of the Propylæa.—The Parthenon.—Excursion -to Crete.—Earthquake at Corinth.—Mycenæ.—Sparta.—The -Ruins of Olympia.—Visit to Thermopylæ.—Aulis.—Return -to Athens.—His Acquirements.</p> - -</div> - -<p>Mr. Taylor was married in October following his -return from Norway and Sweden, to Marie Hansen, -whose father had already gained a world-wide reputation -as an astronomer through his works on Physical -Astronomy, and was then winning renown for his “Tables -de la Lune,” for which he was given a prize by the -English Government, as a public benefactor. He was -a man of remarkable mathematical genius, universally -respected, and the founder of the Erfurt Observatory -near Gotha. It was a family of scholars which received -Mr. Taylor as a son and brother, and a fortunate -alliance for the world of letters. It would be interesting -to our readers, no doubt, to know all about the -ceremony, the guests, the letters, and the relatives. -But that which at some future day may be elevated to -the plane of history, would be mere gossip now; and -could only serve, for the present, to bring more vividly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> -before his loved ones living, the greatness and reality -of their loss.</p> - -<p>Not even such an event as his marriage was allowed -to interfere with his work. His travels in the North -had been in a great measure described in detail from -day to day, as he stopped for food and rest, and when -he left Stockholm for Germany, a large pile of manuscript -had accumulated, which needed correction and -arrangement before being sent to his publishers in New -York. To this he applied himself closely, and a -month after his marriage, was in London making the -closing arrangements for the appearance of his book -on “Northern Travel,” published by G. P. Putnam -& Sons, and containing a condensed account of his -winter and summer in the Norse countries.</p> - -<p>Immediately after despatching the manuscript for -the book, together with several letters for the press, he -made his preparations for a winter’s sojourn in Greece. -He had purposed to take a trip from St. Petersburg -across the continent of Asia, through Siberia to Kamtschatka, -and returning through Persia and by the shores -of the Black Sea. But it appears that neither Mr. -Greeley, nor Mr. Putnam, nor his German relatives -approved of the undertaking, which, together with -some unsatisfactory financial details, caused him to -abandon the snows of Siberia for the sunshine of Attica.</p> - -<p>This arrangement must have been a far more pleasant -one for him, as Mrs. Taylor and other friends could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> -accompany him to Athens, and as that land was so -connected with the richest themes for poets and scholars. -Many of Byron’s poems had been favorites with -Mr. Taylor from his boyhood, and especially familiar -were those passages relating to Greece; for the reading-books -in use by American scholars, in his school-days, -contained, very wisely, several selections from -Byron’s patriotic poems relating to Greece. To this -was added an appreciation of “Childe Harold,” gained -by visiting the Italian scenery where Byron lived during -those years of his voluntary exile.</p> - -<p>The party left Gotha in the early part of December, -1857, and going down the Dalmatian coast of the Adriatic -Gulf, visited the ancient town of Spolato, where -the ruins of the Emperor Diocletian’s palaces are still -imposing and beautiful. Without losing the steamer, -which put in at all the small ports along the route, they -skirted the southern shores of the Gulf of Corinth; -and, after crossing the Isthmus near Ancient Corinth, -sailed direct for Piræus.</p> - -<p>To a man of Mr. Taylor’s mental capacity and disposition, -the country afforded the means for the highest -enjoyment. Men may be as unsentimental as a beast, -and as regardless of ancient greatness as a savage, -and yet their lives will be influenced more or less by a -sojourn in old Greece. Later philosophers declare, -and attempt to prove it on scientific principles, that -the typography of the country, added to the influences -of the climate, produced the great minds of ancient<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> -Greece. If so, which may be wholly or partially true, -then the same hills and the same valleys, combined with -the same climate, must influence the mental characteristics -of those who live there now. If, however, as is -too frequently the fact to make a clear case of the -philosophers’ claims, men do reside under the Acropolis -and in the Academian groves wholly unaffected by the -scenery, certain it is that to a poet whose whole ambition -and only joy was found in a determination to follow -the lead of Homer, Simonides, and Tyrtæus, it was an -ecstasy of mental satisfaction to feel the influence of -the surrounding associations. Even Mr. Taylor feared -that his name as a poet would lead people to consider -his descriptions to be somewhat colored by the imagination, -and labored hard to avoid the imputation. He, -with great candor and truth, claimed that men are as -great as they were in the days of Demosthenes and -Aristides, although the community to which they belonged -has moved farther west. He did not believe -that all the great and noble and good belonged to the -past. He recognized the great fact that dead men -have better reputations than living ones, and that the -longer a man lies in his grave the greater seem his virtues, -and the less the number and magnitude of his -faults, <i>i. e.</i> if he is not forgotten altogether. So, -Mr. Taylor inserted such thoughts in his letters and -conversation, for the sake of seasoning his enthusiasm, -which he feared was too active. But it was as useless -for him as it was for Byron, and as it has been for other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> -American poets who visited those ancient groves, to -keep above or outside the subtle and powerful influences -which Greece puts forth. Oh! land of heroes, -patriots, poets, philosophers, orators, and musicians! -Oh, land of republics and birthplace of fleets! How -like a visit to the homes of Solon, Plato, Socrates, and -Polycrates it is to walk thy fields, and how like a flight -to the homes of the gods, to dream through thy moonlit -nights!</p> - -<p>Mr. Taylor made the most of his winter in Greece, -and visited every place of ancient renown which was -accessible to travellers. He scarcely waited for the -dawn of his first day in Athens before he hastened to -the Acropolis, and admired its marvels and historical -suggestions. At the Propylæa, which crowns the -mountain with beauty and majesty, where all the -destructive inventions of two thousand years have -failed to annihilate the monument which Phidias and -Calicrates erected to their genius, Mr. Taylor was -overwhelmed with emotions, and gazed with wonder at -the chaste sculpture which adorns the most graceful -structure ever made of marble, and in silent awe contemplated -the pillars, cornices, tablets, pavements, and -broken ornaments with which he was surrounded. -Where was the Coliseum he had praised so much when -a boy? Where were the cathedrals, palaces, and castles -he had regarded as so sublime? Everything he had -seen sank into insignificance beside the ponderous yet -exquisitely beautiful pile before him. He was so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> -affected, that when he spoke he whispered, as if in the -presence of Jupiter, and his eyes grew moist as he -tried to compass the grandeur of the lofty Parthenon -and Propylæa. This language will seem extravagant -to the reader who has not felt such sensations. The -writer, who makes no pretensions of being a poet -either in letters or by nature, has been so filled with -the unspeakable grandeur of some of the scenes from -the heights of the Alps, Himalayas, and Rocky Mountains, -as to find himself, to his own surprise, shedding -copious streams of tears. It is a sensation unknown -to common experience, and our language has no adequate -terms with which to describe it. Such a feeling, -beyond a doubt, was that which reigned in his sensitive -nature when he stood in the porch of the Parthenon. -To him, those marvels of art produced the impression -which nothing but the mightiest mountain-peaks could -awaken in others. It must have been grand to possess -such a nature; and it is grand to follow him through -his letters and books. There was the crowning point -of all his travel. It had been reserved until near the -end of his wanderings, and a fitting climax it was. -The poet and traveller amid the ruins of Athens! He -spent many happy hours amid the crumbling evidences -of Athenian greatness. Temples uncounted lay half-buried -in the broken soil. Those of Demeter, Hercules, -Apollo, Aphrodite, Hephæstus, Theseus, Dioscuri, -could be traced in the earth, or confronted the -antiquarian with majestic porches; while the Odeon,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> -Gymnasium, Museum, Aglaurium, Lyceum, Prytanæum, -Erechtheum, Propylæa, and Parthenon, can easily -be reconstructed in the imagination of any student of -Greek history with the aid of their wonderful ruins. -And when those colossal edifices stand forth in their -beauty, it is but a step to the sublimest dreams, wherein -Socrates, Anaxagoras, Pericles, Eschylus, Sophocles, -Ictinus, Mnesicles, and their noble cotemporaries, -walked through the colonnades, along the payed streets, -and among the verdant, classic groves which bordered -on the Ilissus. The walls of Athens, extending from -Hymettus to the distant sea, the city crowded with the -wealth of the commercial world, and the fields as -verdant and fruitful as now.</p> - -<p>Mr. Taylor often remarked that he should never -have been a successful traveller had he not been a poet; -and it might be added that persons, in whom the -power to recall the past through the debris of the -present is wholly lacking, had better not travel at all. -There are hills in Pennsylvania, or New Hampshire, -far more picturesque than the Acropolis, and on them -might be erected a tolerably accurate copy of the Propylæa, -Erechtheum, and Parthenon as they now stand, -and the curious might visit them to observe the beauty -of the architecture and remark the foolishness of those -who constructed them. Unconnected with any history, -and the originals unheard of, they would be nothing -but mere monuments to folly, with all their symmetry. -Take away from Athens the records of its grand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> -humanity; the stories of its achievements; the tales -concerning the wonders of its genius; the renown of -its arms; the memories of its misfortunes; and all -the life, the spirit, that shines through its fragments, -as the soul beams through the eye of a loved face, -would be extinguished, and no great good could come -from seeing them.</p> - -<p>We mention these things, not to excuse Mr. Taylor -for his strong assertions concerning the effect these -ruins had upon him, but to give to the student a clearer -insight into the nature and life of the poet, Bayard -Taylor. From Athens, after visiting the king and -queen, Mr. Taylor made excursions into the interior, -and to the Island of Crete, visiting, in his various tours, -Candia, Rhithymnos, Corinth, Leuetra, Mycenæ, Arcadia, -Sparta, Parnassus, Platea, Thermopylæ, and -various other fields, mountains, and ruins connected -with ancient Greece. At Crete he was most graciously -welcomed by the Turkish governor, and was treated -with the most generous hospitality by the people and -officials, throughout a somewhat lengthy journey about -the island. It was there that he met the American -consul who was going to start the commerce of Crete -by bringing in a cargo of rum to exchange for the -products of the island, and who was so startled by -Mr. Taylor’s frankly avowed hope, that the ship would -be wrecked before the curse of drunkenness was added -to the other Cretan vices. Mr. Taylor gave a somewhat -different version of the affair, not changing however<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> -its exposition of his sentiments on the subject of -drunkenness. But it is to be supposed, that the consul, -who was so severely rebuked, would have the -best reason for remembering it, and, as his version -throws no discredit on Mr. Taylor, and varies in no -important particular from that given by Mr. Taylor, -we give the consul the benefit of the story.</p> - -<p>At Corinth he had a startling experience in an earthquake, -feeling the earth rise and fall with that sickening -movement, creating a nausea like the sea-sickness -of a whole voyage concentrated into a few minutes, and -saw the stone walls of the house crumbling and splitting -about him. He arrived after the greatest shock -had passed, or he would have seen whole streets of -buildings thrown down, for the village was half in -ruins when he reached the place. Near Corinth he -saw the plain whereon were celebrated the Isthmian -games and repeated sections of Schiller’s poem, “The -Gods of Greece.”</p> - -<p>At Argolis he saw the gateway of Mycenæ, guarded -by the celebrated stone lions, and tried to connect -Agamemnon and Orestes with the landscapes.</p> - -<p>At Sparta he trod the sward above the buried -palaces, and having no poets’ names to rhyme with -Lycurgus and Leonidas, he hurried on to scenes less -suggestive of mere physical endurance and bloody -encounters.</p> - -<p>In Mania, within the boundaries of ancient Sparta, -he was delighted to find the descendants of the ancient<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> -Greeks, whose blood was not diluted by that of Turks, -Slavs, Italians, and Egyptians. He found there what -no other part of Greece visited by him could boast, -the Greek face and form such as Phidias, Praxiteles, -and Lysippus portrayed in their immortal sculptures. -At Olympia he saw the home of Xenophon, and the -foundations of that temple of Olympus from whence -the Greek chronology was taken, near which were -celebrated the great Olympian Games, around which -were once those sacred groves so often mentioned in -Greek poetry and tragedy, and where the most artistic -work of Phidias stood,—the ivory statue of Jupiter.</p> - -<p>At Thebes he recalled the deeds of Pindar, Epaminondas, -and the heroes of the Trojan War.</p> - -<p>At Delphi he looked over the forests that clothe the -lofty Parnassus, gazed into the rocky cleft from which -the priestesses received their communications, and saw -the sites of temples used for gardens, and blocks from -the sacred shrines used for cellar walls.</p> - -<p>At Thermopylæ he marked the spot where the heroes -fought and the narrow gorge where they fell, with feelings -of respect and pride. He said that the story of -such deeds should never be allowed to die.</p> - -<p>At “Aulis” he saw where Jason launched his ships -to sail in search of the Golden Fleece, and repeated a -part of the Argonautic story in modern Greek.</p> - -<p>On all these journeys Mr. Taylor displayed the same -fearless, adventurous spirit, and was frequently in -danger. By fortunate accidents he was prevented<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> -from falling into the hands of brigands, and returned -to Athens, after his prolonged journeys, in -good health, and with the accounts of his journeys -nearly complete in his pocket.</p> - -<p>When he left Athens in the spring for Constantinople, -he had become acquainted with all parts of ancient -Greece, and was able to give to his readers a fund of -valuable information concerning the country and its -products, the people and their industries. He had -kept up that triple life which characterized all his later -travels in Europe and Asia, and saw everything modern -in the way of manners, races, products, commerce, -government, and everything that remained of the -ancient days in the shape of monuments, temples, or -ruins, together with those undefinable yet real suggestions -which come to the poet, and to him alone.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>From Constantinople to Gotha.—Visit to Russia.—Moscow and -St. Petersburg.—Return to Prussia.—Arrival in the United -States.—Incessant Work.—Lecturing and Travels in California.—The -Construction of Cedarcroft.—His Patriotic Addresses -and Poems.—Visits Germany in 1861.—Anxiety for -the Fate of His Nation.—Life at Cedarcroft.</p> - -</div> - -<p>After a short stay in Constantinople, the party, -under the guidance of Mr. Taylor, went by steamer to -the mouth of the Danube, and thence up that river to -his new home at Gotha. Mr. Taylor had set his heart -on building a residence in the oak woodland near his -old home at Kennett, and now that he was married, -his anxiety to see it completed led him to think -seriously of returning at once to the United States. -Having, however, a vague fear that he might not again -visit Europe as a traveller, and being unwilling to -leave the largest empire in the world unvisited, he -resolved to make a hasty trip to Moscow and St. -Petersburg. It was not a tour which he would personally -enjoy as he had his stay in Greece, yet it was -needed to make complete his knowledge of Europe. -Hence he hastened away from Gotha, and, taking -Cracow, the salt mines of Wieliczka and Warsaw in -his route, arrived at Moscow about the middle of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> -June. Having seen the wonders of that ancient capital -of Russia, he went by railroad direct to St. Petersburg. -There he was much interested in the massive -structures of granite and marble which stand over the -land which was once an impassable marsh, and pondered, -with feelings of great wonder, upon the control -which man exercises over nature. The grand squares, -the wide Boulevards, the ponderous bridges, the extensive -palaces, the solid cathedral, and the broad -quays and docks, give an impression of grandeur in -simplicity, which no other city possesses. The great -capital has none of that air of gayety and ostentation -which one notices in Paris and London; but is stately, -dignified, grand. Everything is done on a large scale, -and the buildings, halls, streets, and parades, are alike -suggestive of might, and a strong will. The city is -Peter the Great in stone. It conveys the impression -to the traveller, of strength without coarseness, and of -beauty without display.</p> - -<p>Little did Mr. Taylor expect, when he bade those -extensive, massive palaces adieu, that he should return -to that city, in a few years, as the official representative -of a powerful nation. Probably the idea of being -again in those galleries of art, was as remote from his -calculations as was the idea of being minister of the -United States at the court of the German Empire, -when he walked reverently along the Unter-den-Linden -at Berlin for the first time, trying to get a peep at -the distant carriage of the king.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p> - -<p>From St. Petersburg, he took the inland route for -Prussia, passing through the Baltic provinces, and -studying the habits and appearance of the people. -His return to Gotha, from Russia, was regarded by -himself, and by his friends, as the close of his wanderings, -and, with a sigh of relief, he laid down his pen, -and declared that he wished for nothing more than to -“settle down in a home of his own near the old farm -in the States.” A few weeks later, and he was receiving -the congratulations of his friends in New York, -and had taken his place at the familiar desk in the -office of the New York “Tribune.”</p> - -<p>Then began another season of closest and severest -mental labor. Rest, during his waking hours, seemed -impossible, and even the hours which he spent at the -Literary Club and at his rooms, were more or less connected -with his work. Literature was his work, and -literature was his play. He had become enamored of -Goethe and Schiller, and already conceived the idea of -giving to the world a translation of their best works. -He had the “Argument” of the “Poet’s Journal” in -his mind, and every visit to the scenes of his first love, -in the companionship of the second, served to urge -him to complete and publish it.</p> - -<p>He had become one of the noted men of America, -and the calls, to lecture, to write, to visit, to attend -dinners, and write editorials, were incessant and persistent.</p> - -<p>The construction of his house took much of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> -attention, and he ransacked his collections of sketches, -and photographs of villas, palaces, and cottages in the -Old World, to find such a plan as he could be satisfied -to adopt. It was no child’s play with him to construct -the building wherein to make his home. He had -thought of the matter from boyhood, and that clump -of oaks on the highland, about a mile to the westward -of Kennett Square, and within a short distance of the -old homestead, had ever been his choice. His years -of wanderings had sharpened his desire for a permanent -home, and, with characteristic care and thoroughness, -he investigated his plans and means. He had -owned the land for five years, and had gloried in being -the owner of American soil, without which one can -hardly claim to be an American. He attended to all -the details of rooms, closets, stairways, windows, brick, -stone, cornices, roof, tower, with caution and deliberation; -and when he contracted with the masons, carpenters, -and gardeners, he knew just what was needed, and -told to each what was expected of them. There was -a ceremony attendant on breaking the ground, a procession, -and a box of records deposited in the foundation, -when the corner-stone was laid, and such a house-warming -when it was dedicated October 18 and 19, -1860, as Americans seldom enjoy. There was feasting, -singing, original poetry, original plays, and one -of the happiest, merriest companies ever gathered -under a hospitable roof.</p> - -<p>But while the building was being slowly and carefully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> -constructed, with its thick walls of stone and -brick, Mr. Taylor, was engaged no less in his editorial -tasks. The summer after his return from Europe, he -made several excursions in an editorial capacity, one -of which took him again to California. The great -changes in the city of San Francisco, and in the -appearance of the entire State, so far as he visited it, -were marvellous, and were as marvellously pictured to -the minds of his readers. His time was much occupied -in delivering lectures in the various cities of the State; -but he used his disciplined eyes and ears to such advantage -that he gave in his book the most full and accurate -account of California,—its agriculture, its institutions, -its lakes, its mountains, its great trees, its mines, -its enterprises, and its people,—to be found in any -work of the kind now in print. It is astonishing how -much he could put into a paragraph, without giving -it a crowded appearance!</p> - -<p>His time, from the day he returned from California, -was mostly engaged in delivering lectures and writing -letters. He was not rich, and he was generous. He -had a house to build, and to pay for. Furniture must -be had, and his accumulated fortune was not large -enough for all. Hence he travelled, and he delivered -lectures, notwithstanding the disagreeable experiences -which he was compelled to endure. He yearned to be -at the translation of “Faust”; but necessity drove -him to talk of travel and biography. He had a -home, for “it is home where the heart is,” and he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> -longed to be in it. But necessity sent him forth with -a rude hand, and held him aloof from his own. Oh! -that is the saddest experience in human life! To feel -called to a certain work; to know that there is one -task for which one is peculiarly fitted by nature and -by discipline; to see before him still the beckoning -forms which have hovered in the glory of every setting -sun, since earliest childhood; to feel that one’s -productions, which might be valuable, are unfinished, -and hardly shaped, before they are forced into the hands -of conscienceless critics, is one of the most miserable -conditions in life. This condition, which has worn -out so many men of genius, and which has, with -tyrannical coldness, compelled authors to fence up their -own literary highway, or die, was not felt by Mr. -Taylor in that degree that it was by some of his cotemporaries,—and -by many since his time. But he felt it -often enough and keenly enough to sympathize with -others, and most forcibly expressed their feelings -in his “Picture of Saint John.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“But soon assailed my home the need of gold,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">The miserable wants that plague and fret,</div> -<div class="verse">Repeated ever, battling with our hold</div> -<div class="verse">On all immortal aims, lest, overbold</div> -<div class="verse indent1">In arrogance of gift, we dare forget</div> -<div class="verse">The balanced curse; ah, me! that finest powers,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Must stoop to menial services, and set</div> -<div class="verse">Their growth below the unlaborious flowers.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Yet manfully did he toil, neglecting sleep and food, -eager to teach, determined to earn honestly the money<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> -which he was to receive. He desired to have a home -free from debt, to which he could invite his friends, -and feel that his hospitality could be safely and honestly -extended to all those whom he loved and honored. -So he toiled, as men seldom toil, using every moment on -railway and steamboat, to write out those pages which -his engagements prevented him from doing at home. -As a consequence, his health began to decline, and oft-repeated -warnings of friends and of physicians, which -he tried to keep from the knowledge of his relatives, -drove him from the lucrative field of lecturing.</p> - -<p>With his face set, steadfastly set, toward the tombs of -Goethe and of Schiller, seeing the great obligation he -was under, to a Providence which had so richly endowed -him, to give to man some masterpiece, he turned -at once toward his loved Germany, when he felt the -necessity of a change of home, and a change of work.</p> - -<p>But the exciting events immediately preceding the -War of the Great Rebellion, so stirred his patriotic -soul, that he turned his thought and work into patriotic -channels, and worked on until late in the spring of -1861. His words in the newspapers, in the magazines, -and on the rostrum, were ringing trumpet-calls -to the defence of the Republic. The Chinese say that -“there are words which are deeds.” That could be -said of those Mr. Taylor uttered. His public addresses -were enthusiastic appeals for the salvation of -the nation, and his poems had in them the boldest -spirit of patriotism.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span></p> - -<p>In his poem, “Through Baltimore,” written in April, -1861, he described the approach of the Union soldiers -to Baltimore, the onset of the mob, and closed the -story with these words:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“No, never! By that outrage black,</div> -<div class="verse indent4">A solemn oath we swore,</div> -<div class="verse">To bring the Keystone’s thousands back,</div> -<div class="verse">Strike down the dastards who attack,</div> -<div class="verse">And leave a red and fiery track</div> -<div class="verse indent4">Through Baltimore!</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Bow down, in haste, thy guilty head!</div> -<div class="verse indent4">God’s wrath is swift and sore:</div> -<div class="verse">The sky with gathering bolts is red,—</div> -<div class="verse">Cleanse from thy skirts the slaughter shed,</div> -<div class="verse">Or make thyself an ashen bed,</div> -<div class="verse indent4">O Baltimore!”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>On the 30th of April, 1861, he wrote an address to the -American people, the last verse of which expressed the -sentiment of the whole poem and we insert it here:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Slow to resolve, be swift to do!</div> -<div class="verse">Teach ye the False how fight the True!</div> -<div class="verse">How bucklered Perfidy shall feel</div> -<div class="verse">In her black heart the Patriot’s steel;</div> -<div class="verse">How sure the bolt that Justice wings;</div> -<div class="verse">How weak the arm a traitor brings;</div> -<div class="verse">How mighty they, who steadfast stand</div> -<div class="verse">For Freedom’s Flag and Freedom’s Land!”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>But the poem which created the greatest enthusiasm -at the time of its publication, and which is still a most<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> -touchingly inspiring selection, was written at about -the same time as the “Address to the American People,” -possibly ten days later, and it was given the title -of “Scott and the Veteran.” To fully appreciate the -power of those verses, one needs to recall the hesitation, -and the excitement, and the uncertainty which the -nation felt in that dark hour. In a time like that, a -few clear, unmistakable words work wonders with a -people. Well does the writer recall the electrical effect -of that poem in 1861, when read at a patriotic gathering -of the yeomen, in a valley of the Berkshire -Hills, in Western Massachusetts. The lines were not -so polished, nor the words so choice as many other -verses which Mr. Taylor had written; but they seem -to come again as they were then recited, and awaken -memories of mountain glens, and “mountain boys”; -of camps and battles, of fields of cotton made fields -of carnage; of loved faces looking skyward, cold and -still; of a nation saved, redeemed, renewed. The -three closing verses we have never forgotten.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“If they should fire on Pickens, let the Colonel in command</div> -<div class="verse">Put me upon the rampart, with the flagstaff in my hand:</div> -<div class="verse">No odds how hot the cannon-smoke, or how the shells may fly;</div> -<div class="verse">I’ll hold the Stars and Stripes aloft, and hold them till I die!</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">I’m ready, General, so you let a post to me be given,</div> -<div class="verse">Where Washington can see me, as he looks from highest heaven,</div> -<div class="verse">And say to Putnam at his side, or, may be, General Wayne;</div> -<div class="verse">‘There stands old Billy Johnson, that fought at Lundy’s Lane!’</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">And when the fight is hottest, before the traitors fly,</div> -<div class="verse">When shell and ball are screeching and bursting in the sky,</div> -<div class="verse">If any shot should hit me, and lay me on my face,</div> -<div class="verse">My soul would go to Washington’s, and not to Arnold’s place!”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>In June, the necessity of rest, and the desire to -obtain it in such a way as to get pleasure and advantage -from his release, influenced him to take a trip to -his wife’s old home, and to spend a month at the country -residence of a friend which was situated on slopes of -the Thuringian Forest, not far from Weimar and Gotha. -It was a lovely spot, and a pretty cottage, and about -him were numberless reminders of Schiller and Goethe, -with whose names he was so creditably to connect his -own. Whether he gained the rest he needed or not, -is a question still undecided. Certainly he did not -gain as much as he would, had he left Goethe’s -“Faust,” and his own new volume of poems behind -him, and chafed much less under his great suspense -concerning the results of the American War. He -ran up the American flag to the ridge-pole of his cottage, -and walked about uneasily, awaiting news from -home. He talked of the war with his neighbors and -visitors, wrote about it to whomsoever of his friends -he thought might not understand the merits of the -contest, and, at last, about the 1st of August, hastily -broke up his cosy housekeeping, and returned to -America.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus13"> -<img src="images/illus13.jpg" width="700" height="440" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">CEDARCROFT, KENNETT SQUARE, PA.</p> -</div> - -<p>When he again opened the doors of his dwelling at -Kennett, which he had given the poetical name of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> -“Cedarcroft,” it was to welcome to his fireside all who -loved their country. But, as he afterwards proudly -declared, no traitor ever crossed its threshold. Many -distinguished men visited him, including members of -Congress, and of the President’s Cabinet.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus14"> -<img src="images/illus14.jpg" width="700" height="410" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">NICHOLAS BRIDGE</p> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>Appointed as Secretary of Legation.—Life in St. Petersburg.—Literary -Labors.—His Home at Kennett.—Publication of his -Poems.—Visits Iceland—His Poem at the Millennial Celebration.—Appointment -as Minister to Berlin.—His Congratulations.—Reception -at Berlin.—His Death.</p> - -</div> - -<p>In the summer of 1862, Mr. Taylor accepted the -appointment as Secretary of Legation at St. Petersburg, -Russia, for which he was indebted to his life-long -friend, the Hon. George H. Boker, of Philadelphia, -whose services to the nation as Minister Plenipotentiary, -as well as his gifts as an author, have made his -name familiar to the reading public of America.</p> - -<p>It does not appear that the official duties connected -with his office especially pleased Mr. Taylor, and it is -believed by his friends that he regarded them in about -the same light that Hawthorne looked upon his office. -It was an honorable and responsible position, especially -so during 1862 and 1863, when the United States -was laboring so earnestly, and finally so successfully, -to gain the friendship of Russia, and Mr. Taylor appreciated -it. Certainly the American Legation at St. -Petersburg was never more popular at the Court of the -Emperor than during the term of Mr. Taylor’s sojourn.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> -Whatever the credit which is due to the Minister during -his stay, it is no disparagement to say that Mr. -Taylor made many warm friends in St. Petersburg, -who remember him, and weep for his untimely death. -When the duties of the Legation devolved entirely upon -him, as <i lang="fr">charge d’affairs</i>, he was treated with the greatest -consideration, and for a time the court circles -believed that the President of the United States would -promote him to the office of Ambassador, as appeared -to them to be his due.</p> - -<p>But Mr. Taylor was in no wise an office-seeker, and -cared more for the honor of writing a good book than -for any office in the gift of the President. So the -autumn, winter, and spring which Mr. Taylor spent in -St. Petersburg were devoted to his studies of literature, -so far as he could do so without neglecting his -duties. He made several excursions into the interior -of Russia, and made himself acquainted with the -language and writings of Russian authors. Work! -work! work! Incessantly writing, reading, or observing! -Such was his life in St. Petersburg. His -envious critics have said that his genius all lay in the -ability to do hard work. But does not successful hard -work exhibit genius in its greatest strength? Some -may, in one dash, make themselves famous. Authors -may concentrate all their power in a single leap, and -reach the heights of fame at one bound. But of such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> -men you seldom hear a second success. Their single -work is all that they do well. Not so with Mr. Taylor. -The publication of one book only left the way -clear for a better successor. His Muse was not uncertain, -his genius was not spasmodic. Two of his -poems, written in Russia, namely, “The Neva,” and -“A Thousand Years,” were afterwards translated into -Russian, and received the hearty encomiums of the -cultured nobility. His story of “Beauty and the -Beast,” located at Novgorod, to which place Mr. Taylor -made an excursion while connected with the American -Legation at St. Petersburg, has also been translated -into the Russian language, together with other -selections from his writings, showing that his literary -renown did not suffer by his residence in Russia.</p> - -<p>But his highest ambition in life was to publish a -worthy translation of Goethe and Schiller, together with -a biography of both. This had been his purpose from -the time he first visited Weimar and Gotha. To this -his other labors became gradually subordinated.</p> - -<p>How he came to turn his attention to prose fiction -can be accounted for on the supposition that he adopted -that character for the purpose of testing his own -powers, and securing an income which would enable -him to prosecute his studies and investigations relating -to Goethe and Schiller. He did not hope to be a leading -novelist, and the public placed a much higher estimate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> -on his novels than he did. The desire he had to -immortalize his old home, the urgent appeals of friends, -and the advice of acquaintances, pressed him into a -field which he confessed in his lectures was uncongenial. -Yet he had no more reason to be ashamed of -“Hannah Thurston,” “John Godfrey’s Fortunes,” and -the “Story of Kennett,” brought out soon after his -return from Russia, than he had thirteen or fourteen -years before to be ashamed of the Jenny Lind prize-song, -or the poem delivered before the Phi Beta Kappa -Society of Harvard College.</p> - -<p>After leaving Russia, he soon returned to the United -States, and, with lecturing and writing, occupied the -time until again called abroad by a desire to see some -localities visited by Goethe, and describe the great -Paris Exhibition of 1867. Then followed those years -of work at home, and travel abroad and at home, as -his duties as author, editor, and correspondent demanded. -In 1866 appeared his poem, “Picture of -St. John,” which was immediately translated into -Italian by an admirer in Florence. His poem, “The -Ballad of Abraham Lincoln,” appeared in 1869, -“Goethe’s Faust,” in 1871, “The Masque of the -Gods,” in 1872, “Lars, a Pastoral of Norway,” in -1873, “The Prophet, a Tragedy,” in 1874, and “Home -Pastorals, Ballads, and Lyrics,” in 1875.</p> - -<p>In the spring of 1874, Mr. Taylor visited Iceland as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> -the correspondent of the New York “Tribune.” He -had visited Egypt, and was to return to America -after a short stay in Europe, but the news of the -Millennial Celebration, which was to take place on the -island August 2d and 3d, called a large number of -people to the festivities, and it was fitting that a great -American newspaper should be represented. But -neither the people of Iceland, nor the editors of the -“Tribune,” nor Mr. Taylor, had any idea, when he -set out, that his visit would be magnified into a recognition -of the event by the people of the United -States. His knowledge of the Danish language, and -his study of the Icelandic tongue, according to his -plan laid in Copenhagen eighteen years before, when -on his way to the Northern Ocean, made him peculiarly -fitted for the position in which he was, by a conjunction -of unforeseen circumstances, unexpectedly thrown. -But his genius was as spontaneous as it was persevering; -for in a few moments of time, amid confusion, -and conversation in which he took part, he wrote the -poem, “America to Iceland,” which, when read to the -Icelanders in their own language, on the occasion of -their largest gathering, created the greatest enthusiasm. -One verse ran thus,—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Hail, mother-land of Skalds and heroes,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">By love of freedom hither hurled;</div> -<div class="verse">Fire in their hearts as in their mountains,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">And strength like thine to shake the world!”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span></p> - -<p>Mr. Taylor’s printed description of the scenery, -people, government, and geysers of Iceland, is a standard -work on that almost unknown island, and is written -in a vein readable and refined. As it shows rather -the fruit of a cultured life than the processes of culture, -its contents require no extended notice in a work like -this.</p> - -<p>In the winter (February) of 1878, President Hayes -offered Mr. Taylor the vacant mission at Berlin, expressing, -at the same time, his conviction that there -was no other American living who could so nobly and -creditably fill the position of Minister of the United -States to the German Empire. Mr. Taylor’s fame -as a German scholar; his relation, by marriage, to the -German people; his popularity at home and in Germany; -and his creditable performance of his duties in -a like position at St. Petersburg, made it peculiarly -fitting that he should represent the American people in -that official capacity.</p> - -<p>It was an office unsought by Mr. Taylor, but, nevertheless, -it was most cheerfully accepted, as it would -give him an opportunity to prosecute his studies of the -life of Goethe and the life of Schiller, which could not -be so well secured in any other way.</p> - -<p>The announcement of the appointment was hailed by -the people of the United States with the liveliest -demonstrations of approval. Neither the appointment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> -of Mr. Bancroft or Mr. Motley received such universal -approbation. All the newspapers, with no known exception, -declared it to be one of the wisest appointments -made by the administration. All parties applauded -at home, and the leading journals of Europe -mentioned it with words of praise.</p> - -<p>Mr. Taylor was overwhelmed with congratulations, -and President Hayes received letters from almost every -State and city in the Republic, thanking him for making -such a creditable selection, and commending his -wisdom. Mr. Taylor was feasted, and “toasted” by -his commercial and literary friends with an enthusiasm -and liberality never known before on such an occasion. -Ovation after ovation was given, and his departure -in April from New York was witnessed by hosts of -his friends.</p> - -<p>His welcome at Berlin was scarcely less hearty. -Authors and editors received him with earnest expressions -of satisfaction. The Crown Prince, Prince Bismarck, -and even the Emperor and Empress greeted -him with most unusual marks of respect. With a -world looking to him for yet greater things, but -thankful for the noble deeds of the past, Mr. Taylor -set up a home at Berlin in which he hoped to finish -those books on Goethe and Schiller, to which he had -already given some of the best years of his life. At -last there was rest. Honored by his nation, holding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> -a literary position above the darts of envy, with a -gifted wife and lovely daughter, he entered his home -in Berlin, saying, “Here I can work in peace. Here -we shall be very happy.”</p> - -<p>Who can foretell the future; or, in the words of -Goethe’s “Mephistopheles,”—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Who knows how yet the dice may fall?”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>That drear December, of which he had written so -much, and which ever seemed to him the saddest of all -the year, found him dangerously ill with the dropsy. -He tried to be quiet, as the physician directed. He -tried to resume the old Arabic resignation which had -so often served him in the place of substantial accomplishment. -But the habit of years, the overmastering -desire to labor, the “passion for work” which made -his life successful, held sway over him still.</p> - -<p>His nation had commissioned him to serve at the -Court of Berlin. There was a call for him at the Legation. -He could not refuse to go, if he had the -strength to move. So he rises from his bed, and goes -forth to fulfil the desires of his people. It is his last -work. His beloved America receives his dying attention! -The next day (Dec. 19, 1878), just after the -messenger had left at his door the first printed copy -of his new work, “Deukalion,” the poet, traveller, -scholar, patriot, brother, husband, and father, left -his work unfinished to enter upon the Eternal Rest.</p> - -<p>He had long suffered from a mild form of a kidney<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> -disease, but neither he nor his physicians attached any -importance to that complaint. On the day that he -died, he arose from his bed, dressed, and received -visitors. Feeling tired, at noon, he concluded to lie -down and rest. He slept for a short time, quietly, but -on awakening, his mind wandered, and his symptoms -became at once alarming. Dr. Lowe Kalbe, who was -Mr. Taylor’s physician, and an old friend, was with -him, together with Mrs. Taylor and their daughter -Lillian. But he sank rapidly, and at four o’clock -in the afternoon, peacefully passed away.</p> - -<p>How like a voice from a living Past came to us his -own sad lines, when they said to us in sadness,—“Bayard -Taylor is dead!”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“I never knew the autumnal eves could wear,</div> -<div class="verse indent3">With all their pomp, so drear a hue of Death;</div> -<div class="verse indent3">I never knew their still and solemn breath</div> -<div class="verse">Could rob the breaking heart of strength to bear,</div> -<div class="verse">Feeding the blank submission of despair.</div> -<div class="verse indent3">Yet, peace, sad soul! Reproach and pity shine,</div> -<div class="verse">Suffused through starry tears: bend thou in prayer,</div> -<div class="verse indent5">Rebuked by Love divine.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Why art thou dead? Upon the hills once more</div> -<div class="verse indent1">The golden mist of waning Autumn lies;</div> -<div class="verse">The slow-pulsed billows wash along the shore,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">And phantom isles are floating in the skies.</div> -<div class="verse">They wait for thee: a spirit in the sand</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Hushes, expectant for thy coming tread;</div> -<div class="verse">The light wind pants to lift thy trembling hair;</div> -<div class="verse indent4">Inward, the silent land</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Lies with its mournful woods;—why art thou dead,</div> -<div class="verse">When Earth demands that thou shalt call her fair?”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>His Friends.—The Multitude of Mourners.—His London Acquaintances.—Tennyson, -Cornwall, Browning, Carlyle.—German -Popularity.—Auerbach.—Humboldt.—French Authors.—Early -American Friends.—Stoddard, Willis, Kane, Bryant, -Halleck, Powers, Greeley, Mrs. Kirkland, Whittier, Longfellow, -Holmes, Emerson, Lowell, Dana, Alcott, Aldrich, Whipple, -Curtis, Fields, Boker, Chandler.—Relatives.</p> - -</div> - -<p>Seldom has the death of a single individual wounded -the hearts of so many personal friends. Men have -attained to greater renown, and have been, perhaps, -as extensively known by their writings and their fame; -but rare, indeed, can be found in history the name of -one who had so many intimate companions. The -number of those who claimed the right to be his friends -is beyond computation, at this time,—within a few -weeks after his death,—but it includes many of the -most noted men of the world.</p> - -<p>Alfred Tennyson, the poet-laureate of England, -was an acquaintance and correspondent of Mr. Taylor’s, -their first meeting being at Mr. Tennyson’s house, -Farringford, on the Isle of Wight.</p> - -<p>William Makepeace Thackeray was one of Mr. Taylor’s -warmest literary friends, from the time when they -met at a dinner of the Century Club, in New York, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> -1856, until Mr. Thackeray’s death, in 1863. The -friendship was kept alive by Mr. Thackeray’s daughters, -who first met Mr. Taylor in London, in 1858, and -who at that time most hospitably entertained him, -together with his brother and sisters.</p> - -<p>Robert Browning often invited Mr. Taylor to join -his select company in London, their acquaintance having -begun in 1851; and Barry Cornwall (Bryan Waller -Procter), treated Mr. Taylor with the greatest kindness -and hospitality, writing frequently, until he died, -in 1874, to inquire after Mr. Taylor’s progress in the -translation of “Faust.”</p> - -<p>Thomas Carlyle and John Bright were numbered -among his correspondents, although it so happened -that he met them but seldom.</p> - -<p>Among the leaders of English literature whose friendship -he enjoyed, there is a very large circle of literary -and scientific men who knew Mr. Taylor through their -frequent meetings on social and formal occasions, and -who were well acquainted with Mr. Taylor’s books. -From many of these there came the expressions of -great grief, when the fact of Mr. Taylor’s death was -announced in London.</p> - -<p>In Germany he was quite as well known as their -native poets of his time, and he secured the respect -and love of nearly every distinguished literary man -and woman in that Empire. One of the sweetest -friendships of his life was with that most fascinating -descriptive writer, Berthold Auerbach, whose “Villa<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> -on the Rhine” was given to the American public in -1869, by Mr. Taylor. These two authors were like -twin brothers in their authorship, and some of Auerbach’s -letters, descriptive of European scenes and -people, could be inserted in Mr. Taylor’s books, verbatim, -and the interpolation be scarcely detected. -Their regard for each other equalled their gifts, and -one of the sincerest mourners at the funeral of Mr. -Taylor, was that gifted scholar, Berthold Auerbach.</p> - -<p>Mr. Taylor’s first acquaintance with Alexander von -Humboldt, was in 1856, when Mr. Taylor called upon -the great naturalist at his home in Berlin. The reading -of Humboldt’s works had been of great benefit to Mr. -Taylor, as a correspondent, and he so informed the -Professor, at which he seemed much pleased. Humboldt -took great pains to secure all of Mr. Taylor’s -letters, as they appeared from time to time in the -“Tribune,” and most warmly praised him for the remarkable -manner in which he pictured the scenes he -visited. The acquaintance was frequently renewed, and -when Humboldt died, in 1859, Mr. Taylor is said to -have been numbered among the mourning friends, by -those in charge of the funeral, although he was in the -United States at the time. For years the public -in America was led to believe that Humboldt ridiculed -Mr. Taylor’s writings, although what could have been -the motive of the one who originated the falsehood it -is hard to conjecture.</p> - -<p>With the French authors he did not have a very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> -extended personal acquaintance, although he had met -many of them, and frequently exchanged books with -Victor Hugo and Guillaume Lejean.</p> - -<p>His acquaintances in America included nearly every -living author of his generation, and he numbered -among his intimate friends the most gifted men in the -land. Nearest to him, perhaps, stood Richard H. Stoddard, -of New York, and his talented wife, Elizabeth -Barstow Stoddard. Both were born in Massachusetts, -and have frequently spent the summer months at Mrs. -Stoddard’s old home in Mattapoisett, in company with -Mr. Taylor and his family. A jolly household it was, -when the Taylors and the Stoddards united their families, -as they frequently did, in the city, or on the seashore. -One of Mr. Stoddard’s many books, viz., the -Life of Humboldt, contains an introduction by Mr. -Taylor, and many of Mr. Taylor’s poems were submitted -to Mr. and Mrs. Stoddard for their criticism, -before he published them. With them, and with Mr. -George Ripley, he appears to have maintained the most -confidential relations to the day of his death.</p> - -<p>Many of his early friends have preceded him to that -“silent shore,” and many tears did he shed over their -graves. Nathaniel P. Willis, his earliest friend in the -great city, who encouraged him and introduced him -into a literary life, died at his home of “Idlewild,” in -1867. Washington Irving, who in his old ago was -earnest enough to leave his home at “Sunnyside” and -go to New York, to urge Mr. Taylor to persevere in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> -his poetical undertakings, and whose advice assisted -Mr. Taylor so much in his various trips into Spain, -died in 1873.</p> - -<p>Dr. E. K. Kane, who aided Mr. Taylor in laying -out his route through Norway, and whose letters of -introduction and commendation to George Peabody, -the great banker, and to other influential men in England, -opened the way for Mr. Taylor into the best -society of that capital, did not live to meet Mr. Taylor -on his return from Norway, as had been arranged, but -died alone, at Havana, in 1857.</p> - -<p>William Cullen Bryant, whose master-pieces were -Mr. Taylor’s study, and whose personal friendship was -so much valued, that Mr. Taylor visited the Berkshire -Hills of Massachusetts, wherein the “Thanatopsis” -had its birth, to note “if the scenes would have the -same influence on a stranger, that they appeared to -have had on a native,”—he whose counsel and companionship -had, through many years, been counted -among the “richest boons of life,” died a few months -before Mr. Taylor, and the shadow had not passed -from Mr. Taylor’s brow, and his poetical tribute to -Bryant was hardly in print, before he was called “to -join the caravan that moves to that mysterious realm.”</p> - -<p>Fitz-Greene Halleck, who used to caution the young -poet, and who took pride in every new achievement of -the traveller, died in 1867.</p> - -<p>Horace Greeley, the editor of the Tribune, whose -friendship was of the most steady and substantial kind,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span> -and for whom Mr. Taylor felt the respect due to a -parent, expired in 1872. It was when writing of Mr. -Greeley’s death that Mr. Taylor gave the following -sketch of their friendship:—</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“My own intercourse with him, though often interrupted -by absence or divergence of labor, was frank at the start, -and grew closer and more precious with every year. In all -my experience of men, I have never found one whose primitive -impulses revealed themselves with such marvellous -purity and sincerity. His nature often seemed to me as -crystal-clear as that of a child. In my younger and more -sensitive days, he often gave me a transient wound; but -such wounds healed without a scar, and I always found, afterward, -that they came from the lance of a physician, not from -the knife of an enemy.</p> - -<p>“I first saw Mr. Greeley in June, 1844, when I was a boy -of nineteen. I applied to him for an engagement to write -letters to the ‘Tribune’ from Germany. His reply was -terse enough. ‘No descriptive letters!’ he said; ‘I am -sick of them. When you have been there long enough to -know something, send to me, and, if there is anything in -your letters, I will publish them.’ I waited nearly a year, -and then sent seventeen letters, which were published. -They were shallow enough, I suspect; but what might they -not have been without his warning?</p> - -<p>“Toward the end of 1847, while I was engaged in the -unfortunate enterprise of trying to establish a weekly paper -at Phœnixville, Penn., I wrote him—foreseeing the failure -of my hopes—asking his assistance in procuring literary -work in New York. He advised me (as I suspect he has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> -advised thousands of young men), to stay in the country. -But I <em>had</em> stayed in the country, and a year too long; so -another month found me in New York, in his office, with my -story of disappointment, and my repeated request for his -favorable influence. ‘I think you are mistaken,’ he said; -‘but I will bear you in mind, if I hear of any chance.’</p> - -<p>“Six weeks afterward, to my great surprise (for I supposed -he had quite forgotten me), he sent for me and offered -me a place on the ‘Tribune.’ I worked hard and incessantly -during the summer of 1848, hearing never a word of -commendation or encouragement; but one day in October -he suddenly came to my desk, laid his hand on my shoulder, -and said, ‘You have been faithful; but now you need rest. -Take a week’s holiday, and go into New England.’ I -obeyed, and found, on my return, that he had ordered my -salary to be increased.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Hiram Powers, the American sculptor, who so -heartily welcomed the young pedestrian to Florence, -Italy, and who through the years which followed, -showed a most kindly spirit, making Taylor his guest -and confidant, passed away from the contemplation of -beautiful earthly forms to figures angelic, in 1873.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Kirkland, on whose magazine, in 1848, he -began to regain the literary prestige which the failure -of the “Phœnixville Pioneer” took from him, and who, -with Halleck, so kindly opened the way for him to -teach a school in New York, to repair his shattered -fortunes, was gone, together with a large number of -their mutual acquaintances in the literary circles of -New York.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span></p> - -<p>Although the ranks were so sadly depleted, there -are still living a most brilliant company of his early -literary friends.</p> - -<p>John G. Whittier, who still resides in Amesbury, -his patriotism unabated, his Quaker simplicity unchanged, -and his fame as a poet increasing, as civilization -and freedom extend. To him Mr. Taylor dedicated -his poem of “Lars,” and in it thus mentioned -his first meeting with Whittier:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Though many years my heart goes back,</div> -<div class="verse">Through checkered years of loss and gain,</div> -<div class="verse">To the fair landmark on its track,</div> -<div class="verse">When first, upon the Merrimack,</div> -<div class="verse">Upon the cottage roof I heard the autumn rain.</div> -<div class="verse">A hand that welcomed and that cheered,</div> -<div class="verse">To one unknown didst thou extend;</div> -<div class="verse">Thou gavest hope to song that feared;</div> -<div class="verse">But now by Time and Faith endeared,</div> -<div class="verse">I claim the right to call the Poet, Friend!”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Thus did a Quaker write of a Quaker in dedicating a -Quaker poem.</p> - -<p>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow lives and sings as -in those days when Taylor read the story of “Hyperion” -and the poetry of “Voices of the Night,” and resolved -to visit Boppart and to be a poet. Mr. Longfellow -had a name to be envied in the annals of literature, -when the man of whom we write was a rollicking, -mischievious boy. Yet Taylor has appeared on the -stage of life, has enacted a very important part, and -is gone. His friend and benefactor remains, loved -and honored in the old Washington mansion at -Cambridge.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span></p> - -<p>That marvellously versatile and skilful man, Dr. -Oliver Wendell Holmes, though born long before -Taylor, still walks the halls of learning, and, while -enjoying the deserved rewards of “The Autocrat of -the Breakfast-Table,” “Old Ironsides,” and the numerous -other publications in the shape of essays, poems, -and medical text-books, was not ashamed to be called -the friend of Mr. Taylor, and recalls his association -with him in the most affectionate terms.</p> - -<p>Ralph Waldo Emerson, the poet and essayist, who, -like Mr. Holmes, enjoys a world-wide reputation as a -man of letters and thoughts, moves among men as of -yore, while his younger acquaintance has passed on -before.</p> - -<p>James Russell Lowell, upon whose brilliant literary -career Mr. Taylor said he often “gazed with bewilderment,” -but who was among his much-loved literary -friends, adorns the court of Spain, as the Minister of -the United States, while the life of his colleague which -began much later, has ceased to move his hands to -friendly grasps, and his lips to living words.</p> - -<p>Richard H. Dana, Sr., the “eldest poet,” has been -dead but a few days. Amos Bronson Alcott retains -his home in Concord, appearing much as he did when -George Ripley, Margaret Fuller, and Theodore Parker -were with him on the “Dial,” which the Taylors read -in Pennsylvania; but he who came to their homes so -short a time ago, will cross their thresholds no more.</p> - -<p>Thomas Bailey Aldrich remains, and writes on for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> -the love of it, while his friend and early companion in -New York,—Taylor, who praised his “Babie Bell” and -“Daisie’s Necklace,” has laid down his pen forever, and -will sit down with him no more at social boards.</p> - -<p>George William Curtis, who was born the year -before Mr. Taylor, and whose travels, books, and correspondence -for the New York “Tribune,” gave him -such a similar experience, now stands at the front in -American oratory, and looks forward to wider fields of -usefulness, as though life had just begun. As a representative -American in literature and in political -influence, he has lost in Mr. Taylor an earnest and -efficient comrade.</p> - -<p>Edwin P. Whipple still lives on Beacon Hill in -Boston, and, together with his brilliant wife, recalls the -face and words of Taylor with the affectionate regard -of appreciative minds and loving hearts.</p> - -<p>James T. Fields, of Boston, comes and goes, an -authority on literary excellence, and an attractive -expounder and biographer, while the boy who came to -him long, long ago, to learn if Ticknor & Fields -would publish a little poem, has grown into manhood, -into fame, and passed on to the Hereafter. The friendship -of many years,—so beautiful a sight between -publisher and poet,—which the pressure and uncertainty -of business could not sever or decrease, is -broken, ah! so rudely, by the hand of death.</p> - -<p>The Hon. George H. Boker, of Philadelphia, still -counts his useful years; while the boy whose poems he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> -purchased, and whose ambition he directed, has seen a -long and eventful life, using but a part of the time in -which his benefactor has lived. Of him Mr. Taylor -wrote in 1855:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“You were the mate of my poetic spring;</div> -<div class="verse">To you its buds, of little worth, concealed</div> -<div class="verse">More than the summer years have since revealed,</div> -<div class="verse">Or doubtful autumn from the stem shall fling.</div> -<div class="verse">But here they are, the buds, the blossoms blown,</div> -<div class="verse">Or rich or scant the wreath is at your feet;</div> -<div class="verse">And though it were the freshest ever grown,</div> -<div class="verse">To you its incense could not be more sweet,</div> -<div class="verse">Since with it goes a love to match your own,</div> -<div class="verse">A heart, dear friend, that never falsely beat.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>George H. Boker, Jr., and Mrs. Taylor are, by the -terms of Mr. Taylor’s will, his literary executors.</p> - -<p>The Hon. J. R. Chandler still resides in the same -old home at Philadelphia, into which the trembling -youth came for the loan of fifty dollars with which to -see Europe on foot. After a long and honorable life -he sees no act more creditable than the simple-hearted -generosity which he displayed toward that ambitious -stripling.</p> - -<p>His brother, J. Howard Taylor, M.D., and his cousin, -Franklin Taylor, M.D., are both at their official posts -of honor in Philadelphia, while the sisters and parents -survive, still in that haze of doubt which precedes the -hard realization that Bayard is dead.</p> - -<p>Mr. Whitelaw Reid may search long before he supplies -to the “Tribune’s” readers all the characteristics of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> -Mr. Taylor’s writings; the literati of Philadelphia, -New York, and Boston, will long wait for the congenial -companion to take his seat; and the thousands of -loving hearts in all the civilized countries of the world -and in many uncivilized lands, will not cease to be -sore, until</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“The stern genius, to whose hollow tramp</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Echo the startled chambers of the soul,</div> -<div class="verse">Waves his inverted torch o’er that pale camp,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Where the archangel’s final trumpets roll.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>Translations of “Faust.”—A Life-work.—Discouragements.—The -Scenes in “Faust.”—The Difficulties.—Magnitude of the Work.—Perseverance.—The -Lives of Goethe and Schiller.—Years in -the Work.—The Estimate by Scholars.—Dies with the Work -Unfinished.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Who hath not won a name, and seeks not noble works,</div> -<div class="verse">Belongs but to the elements.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse right">—<cite>Faust.</cite></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Some portions of Bayard Taylor’s life have been -but lightly touched upon in the previous chapters, -because the writer felt that if mentioned in their -chronological order, he would be compelled to repeat -them when he should reach this chapter. In fact, the -history of Taylor’s translation of “Faust,” which we -propose here to outline, so far as we have been able to -learn it, necessarily includes the whole life of Mr. -Taylor, from his first visit to Germany to the day -when his mortal body gave way under its accumulated -load of work. “Faust” was intimately interwoven with -all the threads of his life; and whenever Messrs. -Houghton, Osgood & Co. publish another edition of -Taylor’s translation, they could not better please and -instruct the public than by prefacing it with a synopsis -of Mr. Taylor’s life, wherein “Faust” was his inspiration -and guide.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span></p> - -<p>It appears that when he began the study of the -German language at Heidelberg, one of the books used -by him contained a selection from the First Part of -Goethe’s “Faust.” His instructors and companions there -were delighted with Goethe’s works, and, with pride, -mentioned him as Germany’s greatest man. Meeting -him, as it did, on the very threshold of the language, -at a time when there was a romance about the country, -and a fascination in the language which only youthful -ambition could give, he was ambitious to know -more about the master-mind, and sought those works -which contained the requisite information.</p> - -<p>At Frankfort, he found the works of Goethe and -Schiller, and was fortunately a member of a household -where those authors were admired and often -quoted. He was told, as he afterwards declared, that -if he knew enough of German to read Goethe and -Schiller, it was all that he would need to know of -the language. How much that remark included he -did not at the time comprehend, and declared, when -his translation was in print, that he did not feel sure -that he was able to read all of Goethe as Goethe -intended it should be read, and that there were very -few Germans who understood the wonderful figures -and metaphors found in Goethe’s “Faust.” Being of an -ambitious temperament, which would not be satisfied -with any half-performed task, but which, nevertheless, -aimed at the highest achievements, he conceived -the idea, as early as 1850, of translating into English<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> -the greatest work of Goethe. He could not at that -time comprehend how vast an undertaking he had -assumed. It required something more than a mere -knowledge of words to be able to translate accurately -and fully; and it was no light task for a person to -master the common meaning of all the words and -compounds which Goethe so recklessly used.</p> - -<p>But when it became necessary not only to be able to -give the meaning of each word by substituting in its -stead one of another language, but also to give the -sense and shades of meaning which the words in -combination convey to a reader of the original, then -the task became formidable. But that was not all. -As Goethe, like every great genius, had many eccentricities, -as he drew many of his illustrations from -events in his own experience and scenes which he had -visited, it was necessary to a full understanding of the -great theme, to study Goethe’s characteristics, habits -of thought, education, and experience.</p> - -<p>In short, if one were to translate Goethe, he must be -like Goethe in experience and mental composition. -He must know what Goethe knew; must look upon -man and his complicated life as Goethe looked upon it -in his time and circumstances. To the work of education -and self-discipline Mr. Taylor applied himself -most assiduously.</p> - -<p>Twice, when some new difficulty presented itself -which he had not foreseen, he became discouraged and -resolved to give up the enterprise. Once was when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span> -the appearance of Rev. Charles T. Brooks’ translation -seemed to forestall him in his hope for a profitable sale -of the book; and once when he saw with unusual -clearness the great difficulty of obtaining words in the -English language which should not only express the -meaning, but do so in acceptable rhyme.</p> - -<p>But those discouraging facts were soon surmounted -or forgotten in the great passion of his literary life -and the study of the language, manners, and beliefs -of the German people was not abandoned.</p> - -<p>He found in the first volume many references to the -superstitions of the German people, and he set about -learning the history of witches, fairies, sprites, and -the Devil, as known to German literature. This, in -itself, is no small task. He then encountered what he -thought was, perhaps, a kind of burlesque on the -government and its laws, and to feel sure that it was -so or was not so, he studied the history of the German -principalities, especially of Weimar, where Goethe -resided.</p> - -<p>He found many illustrations from the landscapes -of Italy, Switzerland, Greece and Germany, and it -became necessary not only to visit those countries, but -to look upon the landscapes mentioned in order to be -sure of the exact meaning of the words of description -as they were used by the great poet. Hence, in Spain, -France, Italy, Egypt, Greece, and Germany, he -sought the places mentioned by Goethe in his works, -and noted the correctness or error of his reading.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> -The mountain scenes, more especially of the Hartz -Mountains, and “The Brocken,” were peculiarly difficult -passages in view of the possibly double meaning -of many words when found in any connection, and in -view of the peculiar use which Goethe so independently -made of them. Hence, Mr. Taylor made -frequent excursions in Europe during the last eighteen -years, with the purpose in view of obtaining a more -accurate knowledge of Goethe’s thoughts. Frequent -references are made to customs now obsolete, to theological -opinions now unknown, and words inserted -long out of use or wholly made by the poet himself. -All these required much study.</p> - -<p>To know the poet necessitated a thorough insight -into the history of his time, a knowledge of his companions -and the circumstances under which the poem -was planned and written. This led to the study of -Schiller’s life, who was Goethe’s bosom friend, and to -trips to the localities where Goethe resided. Thus the -work opened wider and wider at each stage in his -acquirements, until at last the poem he had thought to -be able to read understandingly in a year, was as yet -untranslated after a score of years.</p> - -<p>He was probably assisted much by the previous -translations, and had them to criticise and improve -upon. But his work was higher than theirs, as he not -only purposed to give the meaning and rhyme, but he -intended, as far as possible, to retain the rhythmical -arrangement, and secure to the English all the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> -charms of arrangement and sound of the German -original.</p> - -<p>In this work he was often interrupted by the calls of -an editorial profession, and the cares of a correspondent. -His greatest delays were occasioned, however, -by the production of poems on other themes. He is -said to have had the “Deukalion” in mind for more than -fifteen years, and upon that last work of a notable -character which he has completed he bestowed much -careful thought. It is a poem which, like those of -Shakespeare and Goethe, grows valuable in proportion -to the study bestowed upon it.</p> - -<p>He began this translation in 1850 in a vague, uncertain -way, and has continued it through all those years -and did not lost sight of it throughout all his various -duties, cares, and diversions. Meantime, he had published -the following works: “A Journey to Central -Africa,” “The Lands of the Saracen,” and “Poems -and Ballads,” in 1855. “Visit to India, China, and -Japan,” “Poems of the Orient,” and “Poems of Home -and Travel,” in 1855. “Cyclopedia of Modern Travel,” -edited in 1856. “Northern Travel—Sweden, Norway, -Denmark, and Lapland,” 1857. “Travels in -Greece and Russia,” “At Home and Abroad,” first -series, in 1859. “At Home and Abroad,” second -series, and “The Poet’s Journal,” in 1862. “Hannah -Thurston,” a novel, in 1863. “John Godfrey’s Fortunes,” -a novel, in 1864. “The Story of Kennett,” a -novel, and “The Picture of Saint John,” a poem, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> -1866. “Colorado, a Summer Trip,” and edited a -translation of the “Frithjof Saga,” from the Swedish, -in 1867. “The Byways of Europe,” and the “Ballad -of Abraham Lincoln,” and an edited edition of Auerbach’s -“Villa on the Rhine,” in 1869. “Joseph and -His Friends,” a novel, in 1870. Then appeared -“Goethe’s Faust,” in 1871, followed by “The Masque -of the Gods” (1872), and a collected and carefully -edited edition of the “Illustrated Library of Travel, -Exploration and Adventure,” and “Lars,” a poem, in -1873;—all of which were in his mind, more or less -distinctly, previous to the publication of “Faust.” But -“The History of Germany,” “The Boys of other Countries,” -“Egypt and Iceland,” a volume of travel, “The -Prophet,” and “Home Pastorals,” poems, as well as -the recent poem of “Deukalion,” and “The Echo -Club,” were subsequently conceived and written.</p> - -<p>Thus, it will be seen, how full of interruptions the -work of translation must have been when so many -volumes, so many thousands miles of travel, so much -editorial work, so many lectures, such need of money, -and so much attention given to the construction of a -home, all intervened to distract and discourage.</p> - -<p>Yet, with a perseverance most laudable and remarkable, -he kept ever before him Goethe and his works. -Of the merits of his translation no final judgment can -be given until the public have had more time to study -the work, and until a greater number of scholars have -compared it with the original. It has received great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span> -commendation; but such a work requires age, and -much thought. Its beauties lie deep, and are hidden -from superficial minds, and it was Mr. Taylor’s plan to -follow the translation with a companion edition of the -lives of Goethe and Schiller, which would in a pleasant -way serve to expound and make attractive that great -poem.</p> - -<p>That his translation is regarded by the most distinguished -scholars as an excellent production and worthy -of an exalted position in literature, is shown by the -fact that he has been so often urged by them to go on -with his purposed biography of that great poet. No -sooner had Mr. Taylor allowed the fact to become -known, that he was engaged on such a book, than he -was the recipient of many letters from all parts of the -world where English-speaking people live, expressing -their satisfaction that he had undertaken it, and -encouraging him in many ways. This fact, however, -rather delayed than assisted the work, for the appearance -of so many great writers awaiting with impatience -the publication of the book, startled him and magnified -the importance of his labors. He felt that the -combined biography of Goethe and Schiller would be -the crowning work of his life, and more than once -expressed the thought that it might be his last. To -supply the demand for present publications, perform -the duties which devolved upon him in his high office, -and keep steadily advancing with the greater work, -required more strength than one frame could supply.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> -He felt the strain, and sometimes thought it best to -leave everything in the line of labor, and rest. The -need of such a course did not, however, seem imperative -until he was too near his end to ward off the blow. -Death came to him in the midst of his work, and in -the most sudden manner. One day he is seen at his -work; the next he is numbered among those that have -lived—but are gone. His wife and daughter (Lillian), -with most devoted nursing, had seen the invalid -of the previous weeks reviving and gaining strength, -until able again to attend to business, when, almost -without warning, he sinks and dies within a few hours.</p> - -<p>The book for reference, the packages of manuscript, -the letters from admirers of Goethe and Schiller, the -notes and extracts, slips and pictures, lay where he -placed them, accessible to his hand; but the pen is -unmoved, the author is dead, and the Lives of Goethe -and Schiller are incomplete.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII.</h2> - -<div class="chapterhead"> - -<p>Grief at his Death.—Homage of the Great Men of Germany.—Tribute -from Auerbach.—Tributes from his Neighbors at Kennett -Square.—Extracts from Addresses.—The Great Memorial -Gathering at Boston.—The Great Assembly.—Speeches and -Letters.—Address of Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes.—Henry W. -Longfellow’s Poem.—Letters from John G. Whittier, George -William Curtis, W. D. Howells, T. B. Aldrich, James T. Fields, -Whitelaw Reid, E. P. Whipple.—Tributes from his Near -Friends.—Closing Quotations from Mr. Taylor’s Writings.</p> - -</div> - -<p>The news of Bayard Taylor’s death called forth -universal expressions of regret. The press, secular -and religious, mentioned his decease with extended -editorial comment upon his useful and honorable life. -Public meetings were held to pay tribute to his memory, -and the Congress of the United States passed a -bill making Mrs. Taylor a gift of seven thousand dollars, -as a mark of the nation’s appreciation of Mr. -Taylor’s services.</p> - -<p>In Germany, memorial services were held, at which -the greatest literary men of that empire made addresses, -showing their appreciation of Mr. Taylor’s -friendship and scholarship. But one of the most -touching tributes which Germany has given to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span> -memory of the deceased poet, was uttered by the celebrated -Berthold Auerbach, whose books are now found -in the libraries of many different nations, and who was -for many years the intimate companion of Mr. Taylor. -In his address made at Mr. Taylor’s funeral in Berlin, -where were gathered a large number of such men as -Dr. Joseph P. Thompson, Prof. Lepsius, Paul Lindau, -Julius Rodenberg, Prof. Gneist, Dr. Lowe, Count -Lehndorff, and numerous government officials, he thus -addressed the mourning friends:—</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Here, under flowers which have grown on German soil, -rests the perishable encasing wherein for fifty-three years -was enshrined the richly-endowed spirit which bore the name -of Bayard Taylor. Coming races will name thee who never -looked into thy kindly countenance, never grasped thy honest -hand, never heard a word from thy mouth. And yet no, -the breath of the lips fadeth away, but thy words, thy -words of song, will endure. In exhortation to thy surviving -dear ones, from the impulse of my heart as thine oldest -friend in the Old World, as thou were wont to call me, and -as representing German literature, I bid thee now a parting -farewell. What thou hast become and art to remain in the -empire of mind history will determine. To-day our hearts -do quake with grief and sorrow, and yet they are exalted. -Thou wert born in the fatherland of Benjamin Franklin, and -like him, to thine honor, raised thyself from a state of -manual labor to be an apostle of the spirit of purity and -freedom, and to be a representative of thy people among an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span> -alien nation. No, not in a land of strangers, for thou wert -at home among us; thou hast died in the land of Goethe, to -whose high spirit thou didst always with devotion turn; -thou hast raised him up a monument before thine own people, -and wouldst erect him yet another in presence of all -men; but that design has disappeared with thee. But thou -thyself hast been, and art still, one of them whose coming -he announced—a disciple of the universal literature, in the -free and boundless air of which the everlasting element in -man, scorning the limits of nationality, mounts on bold, -adventurous flights and ever on new poetic fancies sunwards -soars. In thy very latest work thou didst show thou livedst -in that religion which embraces in it all creeds, and in the -name of no one separates one from another. Nature gifted -thee with grace and strength, with a soul clear and full of -chaste enjoyment, with melody and the tuneful voice to -search and proclaim the workings of nature in the eternal -and unexhausted region of being, as well as to sing the -earthly and ever-new joys of married and filial love, of -friendship, truth, and patriotism, and the ever higher ascending -revelations of the history of man. Born in the New -World, travelled in the Old, and oh, so soon torn from the -tree of life, thou hast taught thy country the history of the -German people, so that they know each other as brothers, -and of this let us remain mindful. In tuneful words didst -thou for thy people utter the jubilee acclaim of their anniversary. -When it returns, and the husks of our souls do lie -like this one here, then will the lips of millions yet unborn -pronounce the name of Bayard Taylor. May thy memory -be blessed.”</p> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span></p> - -<p>In one of his poems Mr. Taylor wrote, in 1862,—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Fame won at home is of all fame the best,”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">And how gratifying has it been to all of Mr. Taylor’s -friends to hear of the memorial gathering held in his -native Kennett, where young and old vied with each -other to do their townsman honor. With a modesty -and sincerity characteristic of the quiet community, -they assembled and talked of the virtues and achievements -of their deceased neighbor.</p> - -<p>One townsman (Edwin Brosius) referred to Mr. -Taylor’s life, and in his remarks spoke thus:—</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Locating in Kennett Square about the time he returned -from his first visit to Europe, I remember him as a bright, -blushing, diffident youth, just entering manhood; and with -him I always associate that gentle and beautiful girl, with -matchless eyes, who inspired many of his early lyrics, and -whose death ‘filled the nest of love with snow.’ He was -the pride of the community then, and as years passed on -his course was silently watched with a quiet joy, like that a -parent feels for a child that seems to follow instinctively the -true path. His appointment as Minister to Germany created -a feeling that could be silent no longer, and here in this hall -we gave him the first ovation. No one thought that when -we said ‘Kennett rejoices that the world acknowledges her -son,’ that it would so soon be meet to say that Kennett -mourns that her son is dead. Yes, mourns with a grief like -that which he felt when he wrote ‘Moan, ye wild winds! -around the pane.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span></p> - -<p>“The weariness that oppressed him while being fêted -on every hand, which he thought was only temporary, -proved to be the shadow of the coming change. A few -more months and a few more warnings, and all was over.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“The strings are silent: who shall dare to wake them;</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Though later deeds demand their living powers?</div> -<div class="verse">Silent in other lands, what hand shall make them</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Leap as of old to shape the songs of ours?”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“Perhaps I have now said enough; but permit me to -speak briefly of one, still mentally bright under the weight -of fourscore years, the mother of Bayard Taylor, to whom -we must be indebted for much of the honor her son has -given us. The latent genius of the mother was more fully -developed in the son, and guarded, strengthened, and encouraged -by her watchful mind, he became all that she could -desire. When here at school, I remember how bright I -thought she was, and my admiration was not lessened when -she called me one of her boys. The voices of two of her -sons are now silent in the tomb. One taken when full of -hope, in the bloom of youth, while defending his country’s -flag. The other in the full fruitage of mature life, bearing -many honors, and the pillar of the family, a loss to her -which she cannot tell. We may speak or write our grief, -but no human pen or tongue can express hers; words cannot -tell how nearly the light of hope goes out when such -treasures are taken from a mother’s sight and heart.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Another friend (Wm. B. Preston) contributed a -poem, in which two stanzas read as follows:—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span></p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Though to the learned thy lofty works</div> -<div class="verse">Like mighty hosts appear;</div> -<div class="verse">The tale of her own neighborhood</div> -<div class="verse">Bids Kennett hold the dear.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">And Cedarcroft! thy name will shine</div> -<div class="verse">Through ages long to come,</div> -<div class="verse">With Stratford and with Abbotsford,</div> -<div class="verse">The monarch minstrel’s home.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<p>Another neighbor (William W. Polk) gave an -extended sketch of Mr. Taylor’s career, and another -neighbor (Edward Swayne) contributed the second -poem, opening with,—</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“On the margin of the Spree</div> -<div class="verse">Rests his body, is it he?</div> -<div class="verse">Is it all? or only part?</div> -<div class="verse">Questions still my doubting heart.</div> -<div class="verse">Traveller! in what realm, elate,</div> -<div class="verse">Dost thou read the book of fate?</div> -<div class="verse">Poet! in what finer mood</div> -<div class="verse">Singest thou infinitude?</div> -<div class="verse">Dost thou know the path we tend?</div> -<div class="verse">The beginning and the end?</div> -<div class="verse">Backward through the twilight past</div> -<div class="verse">What evolved us from the vast?</div> -<div class="verse">Forward, to what things afar,</div> -<div class="verse">We shall mount from star to star?</div> -<div class="verse">Canst thou see beyond the brink</div> -<div class="verse">What we faintly dare to think?</div> -<div class="verse">Though our thoughts are wrung with pain</div> -<div class="verse">Yet we question but in vain.</div> -<div class="verse">Still no sound the silence breaks,</div> -<div class="verse">Not to us the dead awakes.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span></p> - -<p>Numerous friends addressed the gathering; there were -hymns, quotations, and letters from others, and the -whole people exhibited an interest in honoring his -memory.</p> - -<p>At Boston, Mass., there was held, shortly after Mr. -Taylor’s death, one of the most notable gatherings ever -seen in America, so spontaneous and universal was -the desire to do honor to their deceased countryman. -The gathering was in Tremont Temple, and was under -the auspices of a literary association known as “The -Boston Young Men’s Congress.” The young men -studiously avoided any arrangement or announcement -which would give the gathering any appearance of -display or ceremony, and the friends of Mr. Taylor in -that city came together in such numbers, that long -before the hour appointed for the opening of the meeting, -that great hall was crowded in every part, while -immense crowds so choked the entrances that the -police were obliged to close the gates and shut out the -throng. The great majority of the audience consisted -of literary persons and of officials of the State and -nation. Russell H. Conwell presided, and opened the -exercises by giving a brief sketch of Mr. Taylor’s -early life, after which there followed other informal -addresses by Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes; Richard -Frothingham, the historian; A. B. Alcott, the author; -J. Boyle O’Reilly, the poet; Hon. J. B. D. Cogswell,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span> -the president of the Massachusetts Senate; -Curtis Guild, the author; Dr. William M. Cornell, and -others. Letters were read from James T. Fields, -George William Curtis, W. D. Howells, E. P. Whipple, -John G. Whittier, T. B. Aldrich, and regrets -for their inability to be present expressed by President -Rutherford B. Hayes, Hon. Charles Devens, ex-Governor -Henry Howard, of Rhode Island, General B. F. -Butler, Richard H. Dana, Sr., W. A. Simmons, W. -F. Warren, D. D., Mrs. Louise Chandler Moulton, -Governor Thomas Talbot, of Massachusetts, and many -other distinguished men.</p> - -<p>The crowning feature of the evening’s exercises consisted -in the reading of Longfellow’s poem, “Bayard -Taylor,” by Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes. The audience, -hushed into almost breathless silence, hung upon -Dr. Holmes’s introductory remarks, with a fascination -seldom seen, and when that sweet poem was reached, -and its reading began, tears were seen in many eyes, -so pathetic and solemn was the impression.</p> - -<p>The grand chorus of the Boston Mendelssohn Choral -Union, under the direction of Prof. Stephen A. Emery, -of the New England Conservatory of Music, sang in -a most artistic and impressive manner some of those -charming old German chorals which Mr. Taylor loved -so much, and pleased the audience much with its rendition -of “Oh, for the wings of a Dove,” with Mr. -Wilkie and Miss Fisher as soloists.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span></p> - -<p>Nothing can show the regard in which Mr. Taylor -was held, better than the contributions to that informal -gathering, and we cannot do less than preserve some -of them for the benefit of posterity, especially as it -was that gathering which suggested this book.</p> - -<p>Dr. Holmes’s address was nearly as follows:—</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I can hardly ask your attention to the lines which Mr. -Longfellow has written, and done me the honor of asking -me to read, without a few words of introduction. The poem -should have flowed from his own lips in those winning -accents too rarely heard in any assembly, and never forgotten -by those who have listened to him. But its tenderness -and sweetness are such that no imperfection of utterance -can quite spoil its harmonies. There are tones in the contralto -of our beloved poet’s melodious song that were born -with it, and must die with it when its music is silenced.</p> - -<p>“A tribute from such a singer would honor the obsequies -of the proudest sovereign, would add freshness to the laurels -of the mightiest conqueror. But he who this evening has -this tribute laid upon his hearse, wore no crown save that -which the sisterhood of the Muses wove for him. His victories -were all peaceful ones, and there has been no heartache -after any of them. His life was a journey through -many lands of men, through many realms of knowledge. -He left his humble door in boyhood, poor, untrained, -unknown, unheralded, unattended. He found himself, once -at least, as I well remember his telling me, hungry and well-nigh -penniless in the streets of an European city, feasting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span> -his eyes at a baker’s window and tightening his girdle in -place of a repast. Once more he left his native land, now -in the strength of manhood, known and honored throughout -the world of letters, the sovereignty of the nation investing -him with its mantle of dignity, the laws of civilization surrounding -him with the halo of their inviolable sanctity,—the -boy who went forth to view the world afoot, now on -equal footing with, the potentates and princes who, by right -of birth or by the might of intellect, swayed the destinies -of great empires.</p> - -<p>“He returns to us no more as we remember him, but his -career, his example, the truly American story of a grand, -cheerful, active, self-developing, self-sustaining life, remains -as an enduring inheritance for all coming generations.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Mr. Longfellow’s poem, as read by Dr. Holmes, -was as follows:—</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="center">“<span class="smcap">Bayard Taylor.</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Dead he lay among his books!</div> -<div class="verse">The peace of God was in his looks.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">As the statues<a name="FNanchor_2" id="FNanchor_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> in the gloom,</div> -<div class="verse">Watch o’er Maximilian’s tomb,</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">So those volumes from their shelves</div> -<div class="verse">Watched him, silent as themselves.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Ah! his hand will never more</div> -<div class="verse">Turn their storied pages o’er;</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Never more his lips repeat</div> -<div class="verse">Songs of theirs, however sweet.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Let the lifeless body rest!</div> -<div class="verse">He is gone who was its guest.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Gone as travellers haste to leave</div> -<div class="verse">An inn, nor tarry until eve.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Traveller! in what realms afar,</div> -<div class="verse">In what planet, in what star,</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">In what vast aerial space,</div> -<div class="verse">Shines the light upon thy face?</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">In what gardens of delight</div> -<div class="verse">Rest thy weary feet to-night?</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Poet! thou whose latest verse</div> -<div class="verse">Was a garland on thy hearse,</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Thou hast sung with organ tone</div> -<div class="verse">In Deukalion’s life thine own.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">On the ruins of the Past</div> -<div class="verse">Blooms the perfect flower, at last.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Friend! but yesterday the bells</div> -<div class="verse">Rang for thee their loud farewells;</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">And to-day they toll for thee,</div> -<div class="verse">Lying dead beyond the sea;</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Lying dead among thy books;</div> -<div class="verse">The peace of God in all thy looks.”</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse right">—<span class="smcap">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<p>We also insert a part of Dr. Wm. M. Cornell’s -address:—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span></p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>‘<span class="smcap">Mr. President</span>:—As you have introduced me as ‘The -Historian of Pennsylvania,’ or, ‘Penn’s Woods,’ as you -know the term means, you will allow me to say something -of that good old noble Commonwealth which gave birth to -Bayard Taylor, whose recent and sudden demise has called -us together. As he was a worthy son of that Quaker land, -something about it may be expected of their historian. I -know the Quakers have never had much love for Boston, -and I do not think they are to blame for it either; for -if you had treated me as they were treated in this vicinity, -with all the grace given me I don’t think my love for -you would superabound. But we will not revive, on this -solemn occasion, the bigotry and illiberality of the past, -especially as this vast audience, assembled in this old Pilgrim -city to honor the memory of a gifted son of Quakerdom, -looks very much like ‘bringing forth fruits meet for -repentance’ of those deeds of yore.</p> - -<p>“Grand old Pennsylvania! the keystone of the nation; -for you all know the old proverb, ‘As goes Pennsylvania, -so goes the Union,—I honor thy name! Thy sons are -patriots! The Indian sachem said to the first ‘pale faces’ -who came here (understand, I speak as a Pennsylvanian, in -accordance with my introduction), ‘This is our ground. -We came up right out of this ground, and it is <em>our</em> ground. -You came up out of ground away beyond the big waters, -and that’s your ground.’</p> - -<p>“Bayard Taylor, the poet, the traveller, the biographer, -the botanist, the patriot, the plenipotentiary, whom we so -justly mourn, came up out of this land. He was a true son<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span> -of our soil, which has always produced patriots. Think you -President Hayes did not know this when he appointed him -Minister to that grand old nation, Germany,—the land of -Emperor William, and Minister Bismarck,—the most learned -in the world? The President did honor to himself by this -appointment, and Bayard Taylor did honor to our nation, -and is mourned by the whole world.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Omitting the address of the letters for sake of -brevity, we insert several:—</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>:—Will you have the kindness to express to -the committee of arrangements my deep regret at not being -able to attend the meeting at Tremont Temple in honor of -Bayard Taylor’s memory. I sail from New York for -Europe on the 8th instant. I also regret that the pressure -of private matters will not allow me to prepare a tribute to -my old friend. You will understand how nearly his death -touches me, when I say that it breaks an unclouded intimacy -of twenty-four years. If it should be in order, perhaps -some one will read the poem which I printed in the New -York ‘Tribune’ on Christmas morning. I enclose a copy.</p> - -<p class="center">“Yours, very respectfully,</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Thomas Bailey Aldrich</span>.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>To which was attached the following poem:—</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“In other years—lost youth’s enchanted years</div> -<div class="verse">Seen now and evermore, through blinding tears</div> -<div class="verse">And empty longing for what may not be</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span>— -<div class="verse">The Desert gave him back to us; the Sea</div> -<div class="verse">Yielded him up; the icy Northland strand</div> -<div class="verse">Lured him not long, nor that soft German air</div> -<div class="verse">He loved could keep him. Ever his own land</div> -<div class="verse">Fettered his heart and brought him back again.</div> -<div class="verse">What sounds are those of farewell and despair</div> -<div class="verse">Blown by the winds across the wintry main?</div> -<div class="verse">What unknown way is this that he has gone,</div> -<div class="verse">Our Bayard, in such silence, and alone?</div> -<div class="verse">What new, strange guest has tempted him once more</div> -<div class="verse">To leave us? Vainly standing by the shore</div> -<div class="verse">We strain our eyes. But patience ... when the soft</div> -<div class="verse">Spring gales are blowing over Cedarcroft,</div> -<div class="verse">Whitening the hawthorn; when violets bloom</div> -<div class="verse">Among the Brandywine, and overhead</div> -<div class="verse">The sky is blue as Italy’s—he will come;</div> -<div class="verse">Ay, he will come. I cannot make him dead.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Friend</span>:—I am not able to attend the memorial -meeting in Tremont Temple on the 10th instant, but my -heart responds to any testimonial appreciative of the intellectual -achievements and the noble and manly life of Bayard -Taylor. More than thirty years have intervened between -my first meeting him in the fresh bloom of his youth and -hope and honorable ambition, and my last parting with him -under the elms of Boston Common after our visit to Richard -H. Dana, on the occasion of the 90th anniversary of that -honored father of American poetry, still living to lament the -death of his younger disciple and friend. How much he has -accomplished in these years! The most industrious of men, -slowly, patiently, under many disadvantages, he built up his -splendid reputation. Traveller, editor, novelist, translator,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span> -diplomatist, and through all and above all poet, what he was -he owed wholly to himself. His native honesty was satisfied -with no half tasks. He finished as he went, and always said -and did his best.</p> - -<p>“It is perhaps too early to assign him his place in American -literature. His picturesque books of travel, his Oriental -lyrics, his Pennsylvanian idyls, his Centennial ode, the -pastoral beauty and Christian sweetness of ‘Lars,’ and the -high arguments and rhythmic marvel of ‘Deukalion,’ are -sureties of the permanence of his reputation. But at this -moment my thoughts dwell rather upon the man than author. -The calamity of his death, felt in both hemispheres, is to me -and to all who intimately knew and loved him, a heavy personal -loss. Under the shadow of this bereavement, in the -inner circle of mourning, we sorrow most of all that we shall -see his face no more, and long for ‘the touch of a vanished -hand and the sound of a voice that is still.’</p> - -<p class="center">“Thy friend,</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">John G. Whittier</span>.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>:—I very much regret that I shall not be -able to accept the invitation of the Young Men’s Congress -for Friday evening of next week. At the same time I wish -in heartiest sympathy to unite with them in honoring the -memory of Bayard Taylor, whom I not only valued as a man -of the highest intellectual qualities, but in whose loss I have -to lament a dear friend. I beg you to convey to the committee -of arrangements my deep sense of honor done me.</p> - -<p class="center">“Very truly yours,</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">W. D. Howells</span>.”</p> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span></p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">My Dear Sir</span>:—An illness which confines me to the -house will prevent my being present at the meeting of the -19th instant. I regret the circumstance very deeply, as it -pains me to be absent on any occasion in which the memory -of Bayard Taylor is to be honored.</p> - -<p class="center">“Very sincerely yours,</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">E. P. Whipple</span>.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Gentlemen of the Committee of the Taylor Memorial</span>:—An -imperative duty calls me to a distant county of -the State on the evening set apart for the meeting at Tremont -Temple. But even if I were not obliged to be absent from -our city on that night, I doubt if I should have the courage -to be present and trust my voice with any words fitting to -such an occasion. The departure of my dear Bayard Taylor -is so recent, his loss so unexpected, that my lips could only -falter out a few broken expressions of individual sorrow, -and I should be wholly incapable of any adequate public -tribute to his memory. So many years of exceptional and -near relationship with him—a brotherly intercourse, unclouded -from early manhood onward through his life—would -incapacitate me from taking part before an audience assembled -to honor his genius and his virtues, and I should -probably be able only to stammer through tears an apology -for my inability to speak his praises. These tender words -by Halleck better convey my meaning:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">‘While memory bids me weep thee,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Nor thoughts nor words are free,</div> -<div class="verse">The grief is fixed too deeply</div> -<div class="verse indent1">That mourns a man like thee.’</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">James T. Fields.</span>”</p> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span></p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>:—I am very sorry that my engagements -compel me to decline your invitation to attend the meeting -in memory of Bayard Taylor. But no one will say any word -of praise of his manly and generous character, or of gratitude -for his noble example of faithful industry, to which my -heart will not respond. I knew him well for nearly thirty -years, and when I said good-by to him last May, as he departed, -amid universal applause and satisfaction, upon a -mission to Germany, he was as frank and simple and earnest -as the youth whom I remember long ago. He died in the -fulness of his activity and hope; but the death of a man so -true and upright leaves us a sorrow wholly unmixed with the -wish that his life might have been different, or with regret -that it was only a promise. Like the knight-at-arms, whose -name he bore, he was a gentle knight of letters, without fear -and without reproach, and by those of us who personally -knew him well he will be long and tenderly remembered.</p> - -<p class="center">“Truly yours,</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">George William Curtis</span>.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>:—Nothing but an imperative engagement -elsewhere could keep me from uniting with those friends of -my friend—Bayard Taylor—who propose next Friday, in -Boston, to commemorate his life and virtues. From our -professional association, I could not but know him intimately, -and he was one of the few men of distinction with -whom every added year of intimacy continued to brighten, -not merely your affection, but also your respect. The -essential characteristic alike of his life, and his work, was -its inherent honesty. He described what he saw; he wrote -what he thought; he meant friendship if he gave you his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span> -hand. I never knew him to shrink from expressing an -opinion, merely because it was unpopular; and, I am sure, -he never sought a man merely because the man was powerful. -He had an honest pride in what he had done,—a pride -that made him eager to share his good fame and fortune -with his earliest and humblest friends. He had the genius -of hard work. He did many things; he came to do most -of them extremely well, and not a few of them easily; but -he never undertook any task, however familiar, or however -humble, without doing his best. Those who did not know -him, have sometimes described him as more German than -American; but if these be German qualities, we may well -be eager to see them naturalized.</p> - -<p>“Quick to the praise of his old Quaker friends, nothing -touched him more than the praise of Boston; and to those -that prize his memory, nothing now can be more grateful -than the sympathetic appreciation of your meeting.</p> - -<p class="center">“I am, very respectfully,</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Whitelaw Reid</span>.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">My Dear Conwell</span>:—I acknowledge the courtesy -of your invitation to do myself the honor to take part in -honoring my deceased friend,—the late Minister at Berlin.</p> - -<p>“I am grieved beyond expression that the necessities of -public duty require my leaving so early for Washington, -that, in making my arrangements, it is impossible for me to -be in town overnight.</p> - -<p>“Independent of the public relations of duty, it is well to -pause to do honor to one who has so faithfully and well -served his country, and his kind. I have the deepest sensibilities<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span> -of remembrance of Bayard Taylor’s personal kindness -to me on many occasions, and especially as his guest, -to incite me to be present.</p> - -<p>“I am glad that Massachusetts, in the meeting you assemble, -will show her appreciation of his character and services, -and regret, with more than ordinary emotion, that I am -prevented from taking part in it.</p> - -<p>“Please represent me as wishing to say and do all that I -might in that behalf, and believe me,</p> - -<p class="center">“Yours truly,</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Benj. F. Butler</span>.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Mr. Taylor had been a great favorite at the Century -Club, in New York, and a frequent visitor at the Lotus -Club of the same city. He was usually accompanied -by some one or two of his intimate friends, and at the -time Mr. Taylor’s death was announced, several of -them who had been known to be his close companions -were requested to give to the “Tribune” letters of -“reminiscences” for publication. Among these thus -hastily collected tributes were several of those which -follow. Mr. Richard H. Stoddard said:—</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I have known Mr. Bayard Taylor so long that I hardly -know when our acquaintance began. It was at least thirty -years ago, during his first year’s residence in New York, after -his tour in Europe and the publication of his ‘Views Afoot.’ -The occasion of our acquaintance was a magazine which had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span> -lately been started here, and which was edited by Mrs. -Caroline M. Kirkland, one of my earliest and best literary -friends. I had contributed to this periodical, which was -entitled ‘The Union Magazine,’ and on her departure -for Europe she recommended me to call upon her young -friend, Mr. Taylor, who was to take care of it for her during -her absence. She was sure I would like him, for we -were <i lang="la">Arcades ambo</i>. I called upon him, and liked him, as -she had foreseen I would. I found him in the editorial -room of the ‘Tribune,’ a dingy, dusty, comfortless den on -the same floor with the composing-room, if I remember -rightly. He was seated on the hither side of an old ink-stained -desk, which was surrounded by a railing, over which -newspapers were flung, and was writing rapidly. He looked -up when I addressed him and stated my errand—a bright, -joyous, handsome man of twenty-five, with a world of -animation in his sparkling dark eyes. I have no recollection -of what passed between us, except that the poem which -was in his hands was accepted, and that we had taken a -fancy to each other. I went away feeling happy, for I felt -that I had made a friend, and one who could sympathize -with me. There were two bonds between us—love of verse, -and equality of years. He was the first man of letters who -had treated me like one of the craft, and I was grateful to -him, as I should have been, for I was weary of the intellectual -snobbery I had undergone from others.</p> - -<p>“It was not long before we were what Burns calls ‘bosom -cronies.’ We used, I remember, to spend our Saturday -evenings together, generally at his rooms, which were within<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span> -a stone’s throw of the ‘Tribune’ office, at a boardinghouse -in Warren Street, not far from Broadway. He lived -in a sky parlor, which is present before me now, as if I had -seen it but an hour ago. I remember just where his table -stood, and the little desk upon which he afterward wrote -so many books, and upon which he was then writing so -many charming poems. I took up the collected edition of -his poetical works this afternoon in my library, and turning -over the leaves sorrowfully, felt the weight of thirty years -roll from me—not lightly, as it would have done a few -weeks ago, but with a pain for which I have no words. -They were all there, the poems which I remembered so well—‘Ariel -in the Cloven Pine’ (which I read in MS. before -it saw the light of print), ‘The Metempsychosis of the -Pine,’ ‘Mon-da-min’ (which was written years before the -‘Song of Hiawatha’), ‘Kubleh,’and, saddest of all, the -solemn dirge beginning ‘Moan, ye wild winds! around the -pane.” As I read, I saw the eager face, the glowing eyes, -the kindly smile of the enthusiastic young poet, whom the -world preferred to consider as a traveller merely, and who -knew so many things of which I was profoundly ignorant. -My nature is not a reverent one, I fear, but I looked up to -Bayard Taylor, and admired his beautiful genius. We read -and criticised each other’s verse a good deal too lightly and -generously, I have since thought, and talked of the poets -whom we were studying. It was his fancy that there was -something in his genius which was allied to that of Shelley, -and I hoped that I might claim some relationship with Keats, -enough at least to make me a ‘poor relation.’ We talked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span> -long and late; we smoked mild cigars; and, once in a while -when our exchequers were replenished, we indulged in the -sweet luxury of stewed oysters, over which we had more -talk, of present plans and future renown. I was, I believe, -Bayard Taylor’s most intimate friend at this time, and the -one with whom he most consorted, though he had, of course, -a large literary acquaintance among the young writers of -the period, whose name was Legion, and whose works are -now forgotten. I have spent many happy nights with my -dead friend, but none which were so happy as those. I -looked forward to them as young men look forward to holidays -which they have planned. I look back upon them as -old men look back to their past delights, with pity and -regret.</p> - -<p>“The world, as I have said, considered Bayard Taylor as -a traveller, and it was his pleasure, as well as his profit, -during the first years of our friendship, to travel largely in -California, in Egypt, in Japan, and elsewhere in the Old -World. I read his letters of travel as they appeared in the -‘Tribune,’ and I read these letters again which he collected -thus in books after his return. I saw that they were good -of their kind; I felt that his prose was admirable for its -simplicity and correctness; but, with a waywardness which -I could not help, I slighted them for his poetry. I thought -then, and think still, that his ‘California Ballads’ and -‘Poems of Travel’ are masterly examples of spirited, picturesque -writing, and I am sure that his ‘Poems of the -Orient’ are superior to anything of the kind in the English -language. They have a local color which is absent from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span> -‘Lalla Rookh.’ The ‘Bedouin Song,’ for instance, is -instinct with the fiery, passionate life of the East, and is a -worthy companion-piece to Shelley’s ‘Lines to an Indian -Air.’ The ‘Poems of the Orient’ were dedicated to me, I -shall always be happy to remember, in a poetical ‘Epistle -from Tmolus.’</p> - -<p>“Bayard Taylor had a sunny nature, which delighted in -simple pleasures, and he had the happy art of putting -trouble away from him. One trouble, however, he could -not put away, as those who are familiar with his life and -poems are aware. I have spoken of one of his early poems -(‘Moan, ye wild winds! around the pane’), which embodied -the first great sorrow of his young manhood. It was written -after the death of his first wife, whose memory it embalms, -and whose tender presence haunted him later in -‘The Mystery’ and ‘The Phantom.’ Among the literary -acquaintances of Bayard Taylor and myself, I must not forget -to mention the late Fitz James O’Brien, whose promise -was greater than his performance, and who, clever as he -was in prose, was at his best a graceful poet. Taylor and -O’Brien were in the habit of meeting in my rooms at night, -about twenty-five years ago, and of fighting triangular -poetical duels. We used to sit at the same table, with the -names of poetical subjects on slips of paper, and drawing -out one at random, see which of us would soonest write a -poem upon it. This practice of ours, which is well enough -as practice merely, was the origin of Bayard Taylor’s ‘Echo -Club.’</p> - -<p>“Always a charming companion, Bayard Taylor was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span> -delightful in his own home at Cedarcroft. I remember visiting -him there when he gave his ‘house-warming,’ and the -merriment we had over a play which we wrote together, -speech by speech, and scene by scene, and which we performed -to the great delectation of his friends and neighbors. -Many of the latter had never seen a theatrical performance -before, and, I dare say, have never seen one since. Our -play was a great success, and ought to have been, for there -was not a word in it which had not done duty a thousand -times before! We called it ‘Love in a Hotel.’ ‘Miller -Redivivus’ would have answered just as well, if not better.</p> - -<p>“The recollections of thirty years cannot be recalled at -will, and seldom while those who shared them with us are -overshadowed by death.” I remember merry days and nights -without number, and I remember sorrows which are better -forgotten. One of my sorrows was deeply felt by Bayard -Taylor, who, fresh from the reading of the second part of -‘Faust,’ saw in my loss a vision of Goethe’s ‘Euphorion.’</p> - -<p>“The last time, but one, when I saw my friend alone -was three or four nights before his departure for Berlin. It -was one night at my own house, at a little gathering to -which I had invited our common friends, comrades of ten -and twenty years’ standing, poets, artists, and good fellows -of both sexes. It was notable on one account, for our -great poet Bryant came thither to do honor to his younger -brother, Bayard Taylor. I cannot say that it was a happy -night, for it was to be followed by an absence which was -close at hand,—an absence which was to endure forever. -Before two months had passed, the Nestor of our poets was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span> -gathered to his fathers in the fullness of his renown. His -sons bewailed their father; my good friend Stedman, in a -noble poem in the ‘Atlantic Monthly,’ and Bayard Taylor in -a solemn ‘Epicedium’ in ‘Scribner’s Monthly.’ And now -Bayard Taylor is gone!</p> - -<p>“‘Insatiate archer, could not one suffice?’ The world -of American letters has lost a poet in Bayard Taylor; but -we who knew and loved him—have lost a friend.</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">R. H. Stoddard.</span>”</p> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">New York, Dec. 19, 1878.</span>”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Mr. Edmund C. Stedman, the poet, who enjoyed -a very close intimacy with Mr. Taylor, spoke of him -to the editor as follows:—</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“The causes which led to his death at this time, date back -several years. When he returned from Europe then, he -found his real estate and personal property largely depreciated -and encumbered, and though near the age of fifty, he again -found himself forced to tolerable hard work to support his -family and position. It was this hard work, coupled with -his resolute purpose, however other work might engross him, -to keep up his more serious contributions to permanent -literature, that ultimately led to his death. He took great -pride in his home and broad acres, at Kennett Square, Penn., -his native place. He designed his own house, ‘Cedarcroft,’ -and spent a great deal of money in its erection, and -that, with the two hundred acres of land, which he owned -and had greatly improved, was a source of expense rather -than income to him. He had a handsome competence when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span> -he went abroad, all of which he earned as a journalist, -author, and lecturer, never having earned any money except -by his pen. He decided to maintain his property in Kennett -Square, and he set to work immediately to pay off the -debt. During the last four years, he has accomplished this, his -income amounting to from $12,000 to $18,000 a year; but -he obtained it by very hard work. In fact, he had worked -harder and accomplished more in that time than perhaps any -other living literary man. He lectured each winter, in all sorts -of weather, and in different parts of the country. He contributed -largely to magazines and reviews, and never more -brilliantly, besides doing a great amount of regular work -for the ‘Tribune.’ He came from a long-lived family, and -his strength was very great, but he undertook too much. He -did the work of two able-bodied men every day, and his -health gave way under the great strain on one or two -occasions. He was compelled to go to the White Sulphur -Springs, and other places for recuperation; but he forced -himself to work again before he had fully recovered. During -this time he wrote his last and most important poem, -‘Prince Deukalion.’ It was a source of great trial to himself, -and of regret to his friends, that he was unable to go -on with his ‘Life of Goethe,’ for which he had secured material -during his last sojourn in Germany. The great trouble -with him was his inability, owing to his excessive labors, to -take sufficient social recreation. His enemies, very few in -number, have falsely attempted to make a point against him -on this account, charging him with excessive beer-drinking. -It was his want of recreation and rest that killed him. He -was forced to take some stimulus to support himself under -exhausting labor; but he was not an excessive beer-drinker<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span> -as he has been charged, though what he did take may have -helped to develop his disease.</p> - -<p>“No man in the country could do so much journalistic -work, and do it so well in a given time, as could Mr. Taylor. -He was remarkable in brilliant off-hand feats of literary -criticism. As an illustration, I might mention that -about a year ago two large octavo volumes, containing -poems by Victor Hugo, in the French, arrived by steamer, and -were placed in Mr. Taylor’s hands on Thursday evening. For -some reason it was desirable that the criticism should appear -in the ‘Tribune’ of the following Saturday, and, of course, -the copy had to be in the printers’ hands early on Friday -night. Mr. Taylor’s health was bad at the time, and he -also had in the meantime to deliver a lecture in Brooklyn, -and another in New York. He finished his review in time -on Friday night, and it appeared in the ‘Tribune’ the following -morning, covering more than two-thirds of a page. -It was equal to any of his literary criticisms, and surpassed -any analysis of Hugo’s genius that I have ever seen. One -remarkable feature of the review was over a column of -translation into English poetry from the original, including -several lyrics and idyls so beautifully done that they seemed -like original poems in the English.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Taylor was a man of wide and thorough learning, -and was a much more exact scholar than would be supposed, -considering that he was never at college, and spent -a great deal of time in travel and observation. He had a -smattering of all languages. He was familiar with Latin -and Greek, spoke French well, and German like a native; -he also conversed in Russian, Norse, Arabic, Italian, and -knew something of modern Greek. His knowledge of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span> -Greek was increased by his classical feeling, which, as with -Keats, amounted almost to a passion. He was a good -botanist, and somewhat of a geologist, and was an established -authority on geographical questions. He was greatly -interested in all scientific studies.</p> - -<p>“As a man he was a peer among his fellows. He was -the most simple, generous-hearted man of letters I ever -knew. He was the first literary man I met in New York, -my acquaintance dating from the time he came and took me -by the hand in 1860, after the publication of one of my -articles. He was never so happy as when surrounded by -his friends in his own house. He had unbounded hospitality, -and made his house the centre of literary life in the city. -New York will greatly miss him, and just such a leader was -needed to give encouragement to our literary life. He was -accused sometimes of egotism; but he was not egotistical -in the proper sense of the term. He was frank and out-spoken, -and showed his feelings plainly, which gave rise to -that charge. He always denounced shams and humbugs; -but I do not believe he ever did a mean act, and he never -grew angry except on account of the meanness of others.</p> - -<p>“His private letters, of which I had a great number, were -far more delightful than his published ones. He was very -careful in his published letters not to say anything that -might wound the feelings of distinguished persons from -whom he received hospitality abroad. His private letters -are full of the most interesting anecdotes and conversations -with leading authors and magnates of other lands, and are -charming in their clearness and <i lang="fr">esprit</i>. His faults, and we -all have them, were rather of a lovable nature. He cared -most for his reputation as a poet, and his books on travel -and novels were a secondary matter with him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Mr. Taylor did not seek the appointment as Minister to -Germany, but other positions were tendered him which he -declined, and this was offered rather in obedience to popular -demand. Mr. Taylor, Mr. Boker, and Mr. Stoddard -started together in literary life thirty years ago, and they -have always worked together, and have been firm friends. -It was a rather curious coincidence that Mr. Boker should -follow as Minister Mr. Taylor as Charge d’Affairs in Russia, -and that just as Boker returned from Russia, Mr. Taylor -should be sent as Minister to Germany.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Mr. Samuel Coleman, the artist, said of him:—</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I first knew Mr. Taylor nearly twenty years ago, and -my acquaintance with him has always been of the pleasantest -kind. I shall never forget a visit that I made to his home -at Kennett Square, in 1861, in company with a brother -artist. Much of our conversation was on art subjects, and -in the evening Mr. Taylor read to me with great gusto some -poems written by an extravagant Southern writer. He read -the poems in a manner that showed his keen appreciation of -’ the comic element, and kept us laughing at the passages -which the author had intended to be most dramatic. Mr. -Taylor was a most genial host, and knew how to keep a -room full of persons in the happiest mood. His speeches -and his manner at such times cannot be described.</p> - -<p>“In art matters Mr. Taylor was thoroughly at home. -He could not only write a good criticism of a painting, but -he was also proficient in the use of brush and pencil. He -began sketching when he was a boy, and he executed many<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span> -paintings in water-colors. He was made one of the members -of the Water-Color Society soon after the society was -started. Several of his works were shown at the annual -exhibitions of the society, and were much admired. I met -Mr. Taylor by appointment at Florence, Italy, in the spring -of 1873, and visited with him for a short time in that city. -We had talked of making a journey to Egypt together. I -was to do some sketching there, while he was to glean -materials for a book. Ill-health prevented me from making -the proposed journey at that time, and I left him in -Florence. He there occupied the rooms where Mrs. -Browning had lived.</p> - -<p>“In later years I had not seen so much of Mr. Taylor as -I had wished. I remember the brilliant part he played in -the Twelfth Night entertainment of the Century Club last -winter, when he put on a high conical cap and marched -about the room beating a large drum. As on many other -occasions, his wit was displayed in comical speeches and -retorts that kept his listeners laughing by the hour. I saw -him for the last time at the house of a friend, when he -spoke earnestly of the many happy associations he was -about to leave. His heart was in this country, however -much his interests might lie abroad.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Mr. Charles T. Congdon, an associate on the -“Tribune,” wrote:—</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Everybody in the office knew how high Mr. Taylor -stood in the estimation of Mr. Greeley. A man who had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span> -worked his way up; who, beginning as a printer, had come -to be an admired writer, who was ambitious of excellence, -and not afraid of toil to attain it, Mr. Greeley was naturally -fond of. So, when the monument of the great journalist -was to be dedicated, Mr. Taylor was properly selected to -make one of the principal addresses on the occasion. How -good that address was, how well conceived and arranged -and delivered, need not be said to those who had the satisfaction -of hearing it. It was indeed an impressive occasion -when, standing above the tomb of his old master, surrounded -by those to whom that noble man was dear, with the liberal -sky stretched over the earnest speaker, and the great, busy -city in the distance, Mr. Taylor, in manly words and -sonorous voice, paid those glowing tributes to which all our -hearts responded. Somebody now must speak for him; but -his memory will lack no eulogist. There is enough to say -of such a vigorous and wise career; something, too, there -is, alas! which must be left unsaid. Of any of us who -remain, had our fate been his, he would have spoken kind -and generous words; nor should he go to his grave ‘without -the meed of one melodious tear.’</p> - -<p>“After many years had gone by, Mr. Taylor came back -to do regular daily work in the ‘Tribune’ office, and this he -continued until his departure for Germany. I was near -him, and, if there were any need of it, I could speak again of -his unflagging industry, and of his excellent qualities as a -journalist. He had the faculty which every newspaper -writer should possess, of writing fairly well upon any topic -confided to him. Of course his special skill was displayed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span> -in literary labor; but when he saw fit to write upon what -may be called secular themes, he did so in an able and -judicious way. He was thoroughly kind and obliging, and -always willing to lend his help, or to give his advice when -it was asked for, as it often was. Somehow, I cannot get -away from the impression of his untiring assiduity. He -seemed to have always a great variety of work in hand—work -at home and in the office—as if he had caught something -of the power of toiling from that great German upon -whose biography he was then engaged. If he was somewhat -proud of his accomplishments—thinking over the matter -more, I see that he had a right to be—he had done much, -and he had done it well, and he was entitled to the indulgence -of some complacency.</p> - -<p>“When the rumor came that Mr. Taylor was to be taken -away from us for a time and advanced to high diplomatic -honors, I think that we were all as proud of it as he was, -and felt it to be a recognition, not perhaps made too soon, -of the importance of journalism. It was something to send -forth from among ourselves an Ambassador to the German -Empire, and we were personally grateful to the powers at -Washington, though we thought them also the obliged party. -In our own way, and in our own place, and with a small -token of our good-will, we bade Mr. Taylor farewell on that -April afternoon, and spoke jestingly of the time when, his -court-dress put off, we should welcome him back to his old -desk. There came a statelier leave-taking afterward, when -so many of the best and most distinguished of our citizens -met to take leave of him in a more formal manner; but I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span> -think that he prized our little demonstration quite as highly, -and thought of it afterward on the sea and in foreign lands -quite as often.</p> - -<p>“A man must be judged by what is best in him, by what -he has really done, and not by the accidents of his -character. Few Americans have written more, and -more variously, than Mr. Taylor, and few have written -better. Those of us who know how he owed nothing to -chance, how methodical and painstaking he was, how he -conquered difficulties which would have dismayed a weaker -man, are in a position to judge of his merits, and to accord -to him words of praise, little as he needs them, which have -a specific meaning.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>James T. Fields, in the tributes published in the -“Tribune,” gave this sketch of the acquaintance and -friendship existing between Mr. Taylor and himself:—</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“The death of a man like Bayard Taylor, awakens universal -sorrow. Throughout the land of his birth a tearful -grief has overspread the nation, and he is mourned everywhere, -far and wide, in America. There never lived a public -man of greater <i lang="fr">bonhomie</i>, or of a franker disposition. He -had many honors to bear, but he bore them meekly, and like -an unspoiled child. Cynicism and vulgar egotism were -strangers to his truthful nature; there were no jarring -chords either in his understanding or his heart, and so he -became his country’s favorite, as well as her pride.</p> - -<p>“Thirty-two years ago, on a bright spring morning, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span> -young man of twenty-three held out his hand to me, and introduced -himself as Bayard Taylor. We had corresponded -at intervals since his first little volume was published in 1844, -but we had never met until then. He had come to Boston, -rather unexpectedly, he said, to see Longfellow, and Holmes, -and Whipple, and some others, who had expressed an interest -in his ‘Views Afoot,’ then recently printed in book-form. -No one could possibly look upon the manly young -fellow at that time without loving him. He was tall and -slight, with the bloom of youth mantling a face full of eager, -joyous expectation. Health of that buoyant nature which -betokens delight in existence, was visible in every feature of -the youthful traveller.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">‘The fresh air lodged within his cheek</div> -<div class="verse">As light within a cloud.’</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“We all flocked about him like a swarm of brothers, heartily -welcoming him to Boston. When we told him how charmed -we all were with his travels, he blushed like a girl, and tears -filled his sensitive eyes. ‘It is one of the most absorbingly -interesting books I ever read!’ cried one of our number, -heightening the remark with an expletive savoring more of -strength that of early piety. Taylor looked up, full of happiness -at the opinion so earnestly expressed, and asked, with -that simple naivete which always belonged to his character, -‘Do you really think so? Well, I am <em>so</em> glad.’</p> - -<p>“Then we began to lay out plans for a week’s holiday with -him; to-morrow we would go to such a place down the harbor; -next day to another point of interest; after that we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span> -would all assemble at a supper party in his honor, at Parker’s -(at that time a subterranean eating-house in Court -Street), and following that festivity we would take him to -see old Booth in <cite>Richard</cite>. We went on filling up the seven -days with our designs upon him, when he protested, with an -explosive shout of laughter, that he must be back again in -New York the next day. Then we showered warm exhortations -upon him to postpone his exit, but he assured us that -go back he must, for he had promised to do so. Well, then, -if that were the case, and we saw by his countenance that -he meant what he said, we must adjourn at once to ‘Webster’s,’ -a famous beefsteak house in those ancient days, and, -as Whipple facetiously remarked, quoting the old ballad:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">‘Put a steak in his inside</div> -<div class="verse">Where the four cross-roads did meet.’</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“So thitherward we rollicked along into Washington Street, -and performed that pleasant duty, Taylor all the while -brimming over with radiant spirits, his young heart already -illumined with the delight of recognition and praise.</p> - -<p>“In the afternoon we handed him over to Longfellow, whom -he was anxious to meet, and who gave him such a welcome -as he never forgot. In one of the last conversations I had -with Taylor, a few weeks before he sailed for the Embassy, -he said, with deep feeling: ‘From the first, Longfellow has -been to me the truest and most affectionate friend that ever -man had. He always gives me courage to go on, and never -fails to lift me forward into hopeful regions whenever I meet -him. He is the dearest soul in the world, and my love for -him is unbounded.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Whittier, Holmes, Emerson, Hawthorne, among many -others in New England, always rejoiced to see Taylor’s welcome -face returning to us. Whenever he came to lecture in -Boston or Cambridge, it was the signal for happy dinners -and merry meetings at each other’s houses. His fiftieth birthday -occurring during one of these visits to Boston, was celebrated -by an informal dinner in my own house, at which -Longfellow proposed his health, and Holmes garlanded him -with pleasurable words of friendship and praise.</p> - -<p>“When Taylor came here to give his lectures on German -literature, at the ‘Lowell Institute,’ the crowd was so great -that hundreds were unable to gain admittance. Those -masterly delineations of the genius and character of Goethe, -Schiller, Klopstock, Lessing, and other famous men of Germany, -will long be remembered here, and we were all looking -forward to no remote period when we should again hear -his voice on kindred topics in the same place. No discourses -have ever been listened to in Boston with more enthusiasm, -or have been oftener referred to with delight, since they were -delivered. Bayard Taylor was not only honored and respected -here for his genius,—he was everywhere beloved. -His death saddens our city, and is the absorbing topic in -every circle.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Mr. Taylor’s body arrived in New York on the thirteenth -day of March, about three months after his death, -and was received with imposing ceremonies of respect. -Committees from distinguished citizens and prominent -associations received the remains at the steamship<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span> -wharf and a large procession followed the elegant -funeral-car to the City Hall. The coffin was placed in -the Governor’s room in the City Hall, where an address -was delivered by the Hon. Algernon S. Sullivan. -Delegations were present from the Grand Army of the -Republic; from the Delta Kappa Epsilon societies; -the German singing societies; from the State Legislature; -the National Congress, and hundreds of men -and women distinguished more or less in literary and -official life. Salutes were fired from the fort, dirges -were sung by German associations, flags were placed -at half-mast, and the immense crowd of people seeking -admittance to City Hall, showed the esteem in which -the distinguished minister was held.</p> - -<p>The body lay in state at the City Hall, with a guard -from the Grand Army of the Republic, until noon of -the 14th, when the body was removed, amid touching -and imposing ceremonies, to the railway train -which conveyed it to Kennett Square.</p> - -<p>There have been but few incidents of American life -more pathetic and remarkable than the spontaneous -exhibition of love and admiration by the people of Mr. -Taylor’s native town, when his body was taken there -for burial. The silent and uncovered crowds, the -tears, the regrets, the stories of his kindness, the -honest acts of deference, the noble reception of any -one who had been his friend, all served to make up a -most unusual tribute to the memory of a great man. -In many places the funeral of Mr. Taylor had not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span> -attracted the attention which his friends have felt was -due to his memory. But at his old home, among his -own kin, in the circle of those who knew him best, old -and young came forth to do him honor. Aged men -and women, whose white hairs floated in the chilly -breezes, and young children, whose hats and bonnets -were held so modestly behind them, bowed their heads -as the sombre procession passed them.</p> - -<p>The services at Cedarcroft on the 15th were short -and simple, being conducted by the Rev. W. H. Furness, -D. D., after which Dr. Franklin Taylor made a -brief address.</p> - -<p>At the grave in Longwood Cemetery, about a mile -and a half from Cedarcroft, there were gathered thousands -of mourning acquaintances, who listened in solemn -silence to the addresses which were there delivered -by Dr. Furness, and by Mr. Edmund C. Stedman, -and the reading of the burial service according to the -rites of the Protestant Episcopal Church, by the Rev. -H. N. Powers. The pall-bearers consisted of eight -persons: George H. Boker, of Philadelphia; Richard -H. Stoddard, of New York; Edmund C. Stedman, of -New York; Whitelaw Reid, of New York; J. Taylor -Gause, of Wilmington, Delaware; Jacob P. Cox, of -Kennett; James M. Phillips, of Kennett; Marshall -Swayne, of Kennett, and Edward Needles of West -Chester, Pa. Governor Hoyt of Pennsylvania, a delegation -from the Legislature of Pennsylvania, representatives -of the Delta Kappa Epsilon Society, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span> -kindred associations were present, with a large number -of friends from distant parts of the country.</p> - -<p>It was an impressive scene. The aged father, the sisters, -the brothers, the officials, and the throng of other -friends around the open grave! From that neighborhood -he went forth into life, a frail farmer-boy, less -promising than many of his playmates. Now, after -twoscore of years, in which he had made for himself -friends in every clime, and a name in literature, oratory -and diplomacy, his body is laid to rest amid universal -grief, and bearing on its coffin-lid the floral -tributes from the Empress, and from the greatest men -of Germany, and from the most gifted men and -women of his own land.</p> - -<p>Beside the grave stood his intimate friend and loved -companion, Edmund C. Stedman, who, perhaps, more -than any other living man had enjoyed the deceased -poet’s confidence. It was fitting that he should pay -the closing tribute to his friend’s career. Then a choir -of neighbors sang a burial ode, the words and music -being written for the occasion, the former by Mrs. S. -L. Oberholtzer, and the latter by John E. Sweney. -Slowly and reverently amid sobs and tears,—a multitude -weeping,—they laid him tenderly in his last -resting-place, near the grave of his brave brother, and -beside the remains of his first love.</p> - -<p>The address of Mr. Stedman was nearly as follows:—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span></p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>Three months have gone since we heard from a distant -land that the spirit of our comrade had departed. His life -was eager, noble, wide-renowned. It lasted for more than -half a century, yet ceased prematurely, and we say, “He -should have died hereafter!” Here, to-day, at this very -spot, the mould which held that spirit returns to the self-same -earth which nurtured it. Here the mortal journeyings -are forever ended. The seas, the deserts, the mountain-ranges, -shall be crossed no more; the joyous eyes are -veiled; the near, warm heart can throb no longer; the stalwart -frame has fallen, and henceforth lies at rest. For us -the record is closed; but is it ended without a continuance? -This is the question, which here, at this moment, in this -place, so strongly comes to each one of those who were his -comrades, whom he loved with all his generous nature, to -whom he was ever stanch and true, for whom he would at -all times have given all he had, from whom only his dust -now can receive the love, the tender utterance, the ceaseless -remembrance which they seek to offer in return. Are the -travels then in truth forever ended? Shall there be, for our -brother, no more insatiable thirst for knowledge, no more -high poetic speech, no more looking toward the stars? For -one, I try to answer from his own lips, since they so often -foretokened it. If ever a longing for eternal life, a resolve -not to be deprived of action, a beautiful and absolute faith -that the Power which governs all had decreed that these -should not surcease—if these ever have given a mortal a -hold on immortality, then our Bayard still is living, though -above and beyond us. For however dimmed may be the -vision wherewith some of us strive in vain, whatever our -hopes, to look behind the veil, for him there was neither<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span> -doubt nor darkness. He could not, would not, tolerate the -idea of one-sided individuality. I have never known a man -whose trust in this one thing was so absolutely and always -unshaken, or who had a more abiding, sustaining faith in -the perfection of the universal plan and in the beneficence -of its Designer.</p> - -<p>Such was his religion, and I say that it was constant and -most beautiful. Possibly it was something of the Quaker -breed within him that made him so conscious of the Spirit, -and so natural and unfailing a believer in direct inspiration. -In this age of questionings and searchings, how few of -those who profess the most have his perfect faith in that -immortality whose promise animates the creeds! For this -alone the most rigid may revere his religion, and even without -this his spotless life of purity, philanthropy, heroic -deeds, has been a model for those who seek to become the -disciples of whom the Teacher said, “By their fruits ye -shall know them.” This is the one statement which I desire -to make. This much, at this final place and hour, I am -moved to affirm. Joyous poet, loyal comrade, patient and -generous brother in toil and song—Farewell! Farewell!</p> - -</div> - -<p>With two quotations from Bayard Taylor’s writings, -one of prose and one of poetry, the writer will lay -down his pen (weary with rapid writing), and with -the feeling that the subject of this volume is too vast -to be adequately or comprehensively treated so soon -after his death; and hoping that a lack of completeness -in this book, may not argue a lack of affection on -the part of the writer. These are Bayard Taylor’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span> -words. How like a benediction they come to us as -we close this book.</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“These are the rules which I have always accepted: -First, labor; nothing can be had for nothing; whatever a -man achieves, he must pay for; and no favor of fortune -can absolve him from his duty. Secondly, patience and -forbearance, which is simply dependent on the slow justice -of time. Thirdly, and most important, faith. Unless a -man believe in something far higher than himself; something -infinitely purer and grander than he can ever become—unless -he has an instinct of an order beyond his dreams; of -laws beyond his comprehension; of beauty and goodness -and justice, beside which his own ideals are dark, he will -fail in every loftier form of ambition, and ought to fail.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Upon the world’s great battle-field, the brave</div> -<div class="verse">Struggle, and win, and fall. They proudly go,</div> -<div class="verse">Some to unnoticed graves, and some to stand</div> -<div class="verse">With earth’s bright catalogue of great and good.</div> -<div class="verse indent3">Who, urged by consciousness of noble aims,</div> -<div class="verse">Stands breast to breast with every evil thought,</div> -<div class="verse">Subduing until stricken down, shall pass</div> -<div class="verse">In warrior glory to <em>his</em> long repose,</div> -<div class="verse">And <em>his</em> good deeds rest like a banner-pall—</div> -<div class="verse">Telling the faith <em>he</em> fought for to the world—</div> -<div class="verse">Upon <em>his</em> memory, for all coming time!”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h2>FOOTNOTES</h2> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1" id="Footnote_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> As Bayard says of Osséo in his poem of Mon-da-Min:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse indent12">“He could guess</div> -<div class="verse">The knowledge other minds but slowly plucked</div> -<div class="verse">From out the heart of things: to him, as well</div> -<div class="verse">As to his Gods, all things were possible.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2" id="Footnote_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> In the Hofkirche, at Innsbruck.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Life, Travels, and Literary Career -of Bayard Taylor, by Russell H. 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