Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1891-09-13


dom and authority, upon family influence
in public affairs Finally he saidt ST
Conkling comes we shall be glad to have
him. He will never come without Grant
And that is another affair. That was quite
another affair I have often wondered what
the position of Conkling would have been
had he not realized and welcomed the i'm.
posing personality of Grant, as it came
from the journey around the world, and
planned the third term.
I had pleasant hours in London with
! Conkling. His illness made him critical
and at times hard to please, and there was
much to jar him. Among other things
that the Londoners did not speak English.
He liked to wander about, and as walking
was rather inhibited because of GONZALES
cence, he saw London from cab, but gen.
orally from the top of an omnibus. The
| Temple interested him, and as he walked
under the tine-stained walls he repeated the
passage from Shakespeare: 81 pluck this
white rose with Plantaganet." "pluck
this red rose with young Somerset" dwell
ing upon the venerable associations of the
spot declaiming in his wondrous tones:
And here prophesy, this brawl to-day,
Grown to this faction in the Temple Garden,
Shall send, beneath the red rose and the
A thousand souls to death and deadly night.
AT GoLDsMITH's GRAVE
As Conkling was declaiming these lines
we came to grave, lonely little mound
with a modest stone, rather out of the way
as I recall it, over near the wall ''This is
a memorable man." Conkling paused and
read the name of Oliver Goldsmith. "Oliver
Goldsmith he said, with impressive SOL
emnity, and, taking off his hat, continued:
81 cannot stand by this hoDored grave with
g. -, Al L
stood for some moments and walked in
silence away.
Of the marvellous memory of Conkling
something has been written, but as an ex-
traordinary intellectual development, re-
call no parallel I have never known but
two men who had his extraordinary gift
the late Bayard Taylor and my long valued
friend, 7. G. Evans, now in happy with
drawal from the fume and furry of journal
ism, but in the Marble days shining figure
on the World Taylor, when had the fort
une to have him in the mood, never quoted
anything that was not classical, or at least
with special merit, German rather than
English, if permissible. The treasures of
Mr. Evans were what he found in Emerson,
Coleridge and the later writers. The mem
ory of Conkling, like that of Macauley, as I
see it described in the books, was like @
lumber room, or some garret in an ancient
castle. You never knew what was coming
"a bit of rubbish or a gem. He would
quote pages of Headley, descriptions of the
French Marshals, Napoleon before the
battle of Waterloo, or things about the
burial of Noses
HIS OPINION OF WALT WHITMAN.
Upon one occasion I ventured q word
about Whitman. There was "The Burial
Hymn of Lincoln" Captain, Oh, My
Captain" so praised by Swinburne
Whitman! 1 cannot comprehend him.
He makes my head ache"
"Not even the Captain"
Il have never read it."
"Never read it, thought, and I resolved
that when we met again Conkling should
have no excuse for not knowing and appre-
ciating that exquisite tribute to Lincoln
one of the few things done in these later
years to give American literature claim to
Immortality. Seeking out Whitman's s books
1 copied Captain, oh, My Captain" with
the pious purpose of reclaiming Conkling
from the Moses rubbish. When we met, as
fell at an early dinner, recalled our Whit
man talk and handed him the poem. He
read it twice over, gravely folded the paper
and returning it, said: 'I cannot under
stand it. 1t has no meaning to me. That
nor anything the author has written"
There was feat of memory may recall
before 1 pass from this theme as illustrative
of Conkling's ready genius. We had been
down in the city, Eastcheap, and the Tower,
and in Southwark, after one of Chaucer's
inns As we were crossing London bridge,
Conkling, the fervor of the scene upon him,
and profound admirer of Macauley, was
quoting the famous New Zealander passage
when some traveller from New Zealand
would take his stand upon . broken arch
of London bridge 10 sketch the ruins of St.
PauPs.
HIS TRIBUTE TO MACAULAY.
"Here is the bridge" aid, looking out
of the hanson, "but where is St. Paul So"
True enough, the church could not be seen.
'tBut it must be-" said Conkling. 'tNo
such artist as Macaulay would have made
the mistake of putting his New Zealander
on an arch from which the cathedral could
not be SEEM" So cabby was stopped, COM
PEELED to turn about and drive again to the
Southwark side. There suddenly loomed
ST. Paul's in medieval grandeur 1t had
been hidden by some barbaric railway sta
tion.
''There," said Conkling, In triumph, 81
knew my man! knew Macaulay. knew
he would not have put that New ZeaIander
out of range of his subject" And he
quoted page after page of Macauley on our
way home. He was on fire with his theme,
and with Conklinr in that mood the flames
must have their way.
But trespass upon your space and time.
Something else that have to say of Roscoe
Conkling will await an early and trust a
convenient season.
JOHN RUSSELL YOUNG