Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1886-11-12
CURRENT AFFAIRS.
A POET IN ms DECLINE.
The Pathetic story of John Godfrey
SAKE, VcrmOni's Lyric Poet.

The Pathetic story of John Godfrey
SAKE, VermOnt's Lyric Poet.
Edward DuTey in the Brooklyn Magazine.I
In large and luxuriously furnished apart
ment in four story brown-stone house ON
State street in the city of Albany, and al
most within stones throw of the great
capitol, sits or walks or reclines throughout
the day man of 20 years of age. With
hair that is silvery white, full beard that
is gray-white a form that is bent and ema-
ciated, step that is slow and lettering,
and a cheek that is pallid and shrunken-
his blue eyes yet full and lustrous alone in
dictate the strength and pride Of other days.
This man is John Godfrey SAKE, the poet
1t is only few years since the verses Of
SAKE were eagerly accepted by the leading
periodicals, and his services as lecturer
were everywhere popular. In his day he
was a bright member of many II literary
gathering, being known personally to all of
the most prominent of contemporary poets
and prose writer's He was the nations
wit and humorist, whose delicious rhymes
brought to himself fame and competence,
and to many a household the cheerful smile
or hearty laugh Even across the sea he
was known as the Thomas Hood of Amer
lea"
Yet alas how intensely pathetic is the
rounding out of this mans days For some
years he has been dead to all the world
Few people know that he is yet alive few
of his numerous former ardent admirers
think Of him now other than as one who
has been but who no longer moves among
his kind The victim of deep-seated, ev-
represent melancholy his closing years are
touchingly sad and uneventful, the never
ceasing care of the few relatives that are
spared him even failing to rid him of the
deep gloom in which unhappily his mind is
now shrouded.
Up to the year 1879 John q. SAKE was a
/ splendid and conspicuous specimen of virile
manhood He stood six feet two inches tall
| proudly erect and muscular, with a large,
round and finely poised head set upon broad
and stawart shoulders. The latest photo
graph of him, now possessed by his family,
represents his face in profile-a broad, high
intellectual forehead, wavy brown hair in
abundance, large keen eyes set in deeply,
and with strong and suggestive feature out
lines set off by mustache and Burnside
whiskers. Less than dozen years ago this
picture was fully justified by its subject.
The beginning of the end was the poets
dreadful experience and remarkable escape
from a revolving death in a western railway
disaster in the spring of 1873, while on hi.
return to Brooklyn at the conclusion Of d
lecture tour in the south The sleeping car
in which he had berth was thrown dow1
IA steep embankment and he was RESCUED
therefrum by the merest chance. As he lay
wedged in between the broken timhers
stunned and bruised a fellow passenger wh'
had escaped bethought him Of sum of mon
cy which he had left behind him On re
turning to the car he stumbled upon the in
sensible poet The latter was thereby dis
covered and rescued from what would nev
itahly have been death and destruction b,
fire, as the sleeper in which he was found
after brief interval following his rescue
became a mass of seething flame His iiesl
Outwardly he appeared TO have escaped witt
slight bodily injuries.
Not so. \ grievous hurt was there
deep, msidious, and lasting though at tn
time it was unseen and unfelt The poet
nerve system had received a shock iron
which it never rallied Exhaustion set in
slowly but surely the consequent weakness
overspread and undermined his whole phys
zeal being. He began to experience great
cr degree Of bodily and mental fatigue thai
had been usual with him. Worst of all wa
its depressing influence on his exuberan
dued, until at last his mind had lost muc
of its wonted buoyancy.
Other Affections were yet in store Dur
ing the year just prior to that of the rail
way accident he had Inferred his daughter
Laura, in Greenwood cemetery. Five year
later death again invaded his Brookly
home, the second victim being his daughte
Sarah. Barely another year had elapse
when the mother of his children, a nobl
woman, was put tenderly away in dream
less rest. Early in the year of 1881 tn
dark reaper for the fourth time laid his cru
ell sickle at his door, this time cutting dow
Hattie, the poets only remaining daughter
He yet had two sons living in Albany. Turn
ing his mourning steps thither in June
1881, he sought rest and refuge from hi
SORROWS with his eldest son, John Theodore
. Once again the memorable hand of fate wa
lai Ia. bi Il
the son ere the father had been a month be
meath his hospitabe roof The sons wifi
had died nine weeks before. Here was
daughter and a sons wife and a son him
self-all three cut down within the brief pc
riod of two months Thus for the secon
time was broken up the poets home. The
he turned to his youngest son and only re
naming child, Charles g., with whom h
has since lived, and who with filial tender
ness and solicitude ministers to the poet
simple daily wants.
The old poet is now much changed i
form and feature, merely being shadow G
his former self. During the first three yeal
of his residence in Albany he spent som
hours each pleasant day in strolling abou
. the beautiful park near by, or TRANQUILITY sit
ting there in a shady arbor, watching tn
children at their play. But during the pa,
two years no public eye has seen him, fc
in that long interval he has of his ow
choice been carefully secluded in his room
, He neither rides nor walks abroad III
apartment in which he spends his melal
choly days consists of a suite of three room
k located in the rear end of the house ON I'll
third floor, and overlooking the noble HUI
~ son to the south. Here by window
!, whites away much of his time in watchin
j. the busy river craft, and in contemplatili
+ the picturesque landscape OF street attn
e he no longer has a need in dressing gov
and slippers he PAGES the floor with slow an
j. trembling steps, seldom or never going b.
}. yond the confines of his rooms. He prefer
to have perfect quiet about him, and Otter
;. times dislikes to be disturbed even by
l. member of his own family.
}. 1t is a long time since he last consente
!, to receive a stranger, or even friend, ,
), an acquaintance of former days.
Il cannot bear" he said with pathos, 80
be forcibly reminded of what | once was
of the days of my hope and strength, whe
, the world had charms that now are dead
me before sickness had deprived me of II
health, and death had robbed me of N
loved ones"
In 1881, on his first coming to Alhan
eminent physicians whom his family CO.
eulta1 in his hahalf nradiotad TINT ba WON