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.