Another object also interested us. It was a superb living thing which might have served as a model for the sculptor of the Parthenon frieze. It was the great blooded horse "Advertiser," for which some fabulous sum had been offered and refused. I forget who owned the creature, or what the sum was which was thus offered. It matters not. I remember only the graceful stallion led out from his stall for us to look at him. His glossy coat, his perfect form, his noble attitude, his fiery eye, his strange look of intelligence—all these spoke of the art of Athens and the Greeks. The life and force, which could carve such a creature in marble, seemed to have place also in the superb living creature himself. I was struck particularly by his noble bearing, by the contour of his head, and also by a peculiar length of the upper lip, having a kind of quivering, prehensile property, not often seen in such animals. When he was led back into his stall, it seemed to me, that we sightseers, should have apologized to him for our intrusion.
We also saw in our short stay the famous Leland Stanford, Jr., University. The first sight of the structure is rather disappointing. Its low elevation on the broad plain on which it stands, and a huge chimney for heating and engine purposes rising above it, give the whole place the aspect of a machine shop or railroad works; but on closer approach this impression vanishes. Then the spirit of the architect is understood. He had ample space for his design, and so he laid out a vast, cloistered parallelogram of one story in height, all built of a warm-tinted yellowish stone, giving the richest shadows of blue and purple.
It was a delight to gaze down the perspective of these enclosing aisles, and then from the arches to look out on the fountains playing in the sunshine, to see the richness of flowers and trees and shrubs, all overarched by a sky of blue without a fleck of cloud.
How different it all seemed to the quads of Oxford, or the backs of Cambridge, where the yew, the beech, and the ivy give a sombre tone of the past, with which the weather-worn buildings and the clouded skies well accord; while the ever-verdant turf under foot, gives all a touch of a constant life that is ever new.
Here all was different. The court was asphalted, the flowers were as if in baskets, the trees were the product of untiring care. It was all the result of energy and art conquering nature and chaining it down to a definite work.
The whole University speaks of this forceful energy. It is the result of fortune amassed by untiring purpose and sleepless activity; but all the intense activity which it symbolizes has on it the touch of a tragedy, which lifts itself and its conception, into a far higher sphere than ordinary things. It is the crystallization of affections which shine out from grieved hearts. It is the memorial of an only son taken from boundless fortune and all that earth could promise—taken in the first flush of his beautiful manhood, from parents, whose whole life was centred in his being.
There is a touching pathos in the picture of this youth, as it looks down from the walls of the library, on the group of young students, men and women, gathered there to reap the benefit of the institution which his fortune sustains, and ever will sustain. He was the sole heir to vast estates, to many commercial interests, to great enterprises. All that was his, is now devoted to the uses of those who teach and are taught, in the Leland Stanford, Jr., University.
One leaves the place with regret. One turns back longingly to take a last look at its quaint Spanish architecture, and one treasures up the memories of it all with greatest pleasure. One remembers the quiet of the marble mausoleum in the woods, where father and son rest side by side, waiting for the completion of the family group beyond the tomb. One also calls to mind the beautiful museum which our time would only allow us to glance at; and also, the many picturesque homes springing up all about the University, the whole leaving an impression upon us which cannot soon be forgotten.
Our four hours in the luxuriant surroundings of Palo Alto and the University, every moment filled in with busy sightseeing, caused us to enjoy the rest of our further railroad ride to San José.