Virginia free press. (Charlestown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1832-1916, 1894-05-16
Siraiuia FREE gress.
Bayard Taylor In Hts Prime

1 l1UUUfQ l6ntOI III MS I-TtMCs
That was the heyday of lecturing, aud
now and then literary light from the East
swan into our skies. | heard and saw En-
erson, and once met Bayard Taylor socially,
at the hospitable house where he was a
guest after his lecture. Heaven knows how
l got through the evening. / do not think
opened my mouth to address him word
it was as much as | could do to sit and lock
at him, while he TRANQUILITY smoked, and
chatted with our host, and quaffed the beer
which We had very good 10 the West. All
the time did him homage as the first au-
thor by calling whom l had ever met I
longed to tell him how much | liked his
poems, which we used to get by heart in
those days, and longed (how much more
longed J to have him know that
''Auch ich war in Arkaden geboron,"
that | had printed poems in the atlantic
Moathy and the Saturday Press, and was
the potential author of things destined to
eclipse all literature hitherto attempted
But could not tell him; and there was no
one else who thought to tell him. Perhaps
it was as well so; might have persisted of
his recognition; for my modesty was equal
to my merit.
In fact think we were all rather modest
young fellows, we who formed the group
wont to spend some part of every evening at
that house, where there was always music,
or whist, or gay talk, or all three, We had
our opinions of literary matters, but (per-
haps because We had mostly accepted them
from England or New England, as | have
said) We were not vain of them; aud we
would by no means have urged them before
living literary man like that. ! believe
none of us ventured TO speak, except the
poet, my roommate, who said, he believed
so and so was the original of so and so
and was promptly told, he had no right to
say such thing. Naturally, we came away
rather critical of our hosts guest, whom |
afterwards knew as the kindlest heart in
the world But we had not shone in his
presence, and that CALLED us; and we chose
to think that he had not shone in ours.
AT that time he was filling a large space
in the thoughts of the young people who
had any thoughts about literature. He had
come to his full repute as an agreeable and
intelligent traveller and he still wore the
halo of his early adventures afoot in foreign
lands when they were yet really foreign
He had not written his novels'o American
life, once so welcomed, and now so forgot
ten; it was very long before he had achiev-
ed that Incompatible translation of Faust,
which must always remain the finest and
best, and which would keep his name alive
with Goethe's, if he had done nothing else
worthy remembrance, But what then most
commended him to the regard of US star
eyed youth (now blinking sadly toward our
sixties) was the poetry which he printed in
the magazines from time to time; in the
first Putnam's lwhere there was dashing
picture of him in an Arab burnoose and
turban), and in Harper's and in the atlantic.
1t was often very lovely poetry, | thought,
and still think so; and it was rightfully
his, though it paid the inevitable allegiance
to the manner of the great masters of the
day. 1t was graced for US by the pathetic
romance of his early love, which some of its
sweetest and saddest numbers confessed, for
the young girl he married almost in her
death hour; and we who were hoping TO
have our hearts broken, or already had them
so, would have been glad of something more
Of the obvious poet in the popular lecturer
we had seen refreshing himself after his
hour on the platform.-IV d. Howels, in
Hdyper's Magaziae