Takes up the Editorial Pen.—Publication of His “Poems of the Orient.”—His Books of Travel.—Lecturing before Lyceums.—Friendship of Richard H. Stoddard.—Private Correspondence.—Love of Fun.—Resolves to Build a Home at Kennett.—Charges of Intemperance.—Preparations for a Third Trip to Europe.—Acquaintance with Thackeray. Immediately upon his return from China, he entered again the traces for hard and long literary work. He had written poems, and snatches of poems, verses, and couplets in his spare hours as a traveller, and his note-book and guide-books were full of such impulsive productions, written on the margin and on the fly-leaves. Those scattered compositions he desired to reduce to satisfactory and convenient shape for publication. Some of them had been written on the seas, some on the Nile, one in Spain, one in Constantinople, one in Jerusalem, two in Gotha, and several in railways and steamboats. The thought of publishing them in the form of a book, was suggested to him by one of his intimate friends in New York,—either Mr. Stoddard or Mr. Ripley,—his intention having been to publish them from time to time in some periodical, in much the same manner as he had contributed to the “union Magazine,” some eight years before.[243] But he had sufficient appreciation of his own genius to act promptly on such a suggestion of his friends, and the first few weeks after his return were occupied with that work, in addition to the work of arranging and correcting his unpublished letters to the “Tribune.” When he had completed the “Poems of the Orient,” it was published by Ticknor & Fields, of Boston, as a companion volume to the “Rhymes of Travel,” and “Book of Romances,” both of which were united in one volume, in 1856, under the title of “Poems of Home and Travel.” In the preparation of these poems, he was greatly assisted by the kindly and discreet criticism of his friend Stoddard, which he not only acknowledged in the remarkable dedication “From Mount Tmolus,” but mentioned it to his relatives with expressions of thankfulness. The public owe a debt to Mr. Stoddard for his generosity and hospitality to Mr. Taylor, as well as for the beautiful poems and truthful biographies which he has written. A true man is a friendly critic, if a critic at all. Such was Richard H. Stoddard.
Mr. Taylor was then called into a new work by a curious public, who wished to see the man who had wandered so far, and had seen so much of this great earth. Hence he was repeatedly called upon to lecture in various cities of the Eastern and Middle States. His financial condition was not so prosperous as to preclude the possibility of future needs, and as the invitations to lecture were accompanied by very liberal[244] offers in the way of remuneration, he accepted many of them. It was, however, an uncongenial occupation. Public speaking had never been recognized as one of his great gifts, and the great masses who gather on such occasions, gather more for amusement than study. They wished to see how he appeared. The ladies desired to know if he was handsome, well dressed, and what was the color of his eyes and hair. The men wished to see if he had become a foreigner in speech or manner. The boys wanted to hear bear stories, and the girls of wild giraffes and affectionate gazelles. Not that the public desired to hear pure nonsense; but that it wished its lessons very much diluted. The polished essays of Mr. Taylor, with their poetical language and refinement of expression, were of little or no account, and a view of his portly physique, and the right to say that they had seen him, and heard him, satisfied the greater portion. To him, such audiences were not agreeable. Whenever he could find a friend like O’Brien or Stoddard, he enjoyed reading his own productions; but to be set up as a show, had in it no such satisfaction. Being also very much engaged in preparing his books of travel, and in writing for the “Tribune,” often writing on the railway trains, and in hotels, he was weary, and could not enter into the labor of public teaching with the zest which might otherwise have been expected of him. Yet, in point of numbers, and financial returns, his tour, during the winter of 1854, was successful,[245] and the harvest for the season of 1855 promised to be still larger.
In addition to the work already mentioned, he had a great number of private correspondents, whose letters he answered with astonishing punctuality. Men in Egypt, China, England, Germany, California, and the United States, sent him letters of inquiry about the best routes, and cheapest outfit for travel. To which he replied as fully as he could, always remembering the like favors done him when in the printing-office at West Chester. There was a large number of friendly acquaintances in many parts of the world who desired to sustain a correspondence with him, and, often, his desk at the “Tribune” had piled upon it as many as fourscore letters, brought by a single mail. It seems incredible when we think of the amount of writing Mr. Taylor did during the years of 1854 and 1855.
Owing to the great amount of work which could not be postponed, and the fact that the “Tribune” had the moral right to his letters before he offered them for sale in the form of a book, the last of his three volumes of travel did not appear until August, 1855.
At one time, he entertained the idea of publishing a book of songs, and consulted with his publisher concerning the probable success of such a volume. But having had his attention called to the fact that the veriest trash answered the purpose of musical composers fully as well as sterling poetry, he abandoned[246] the idea. The thought was probably suggested to him by the writings of Thomas Moore, whose “Lalla Rookh” was frequently brought to mind while Mr. Taylor was writing out the chapters of his book, wherein he described his visit to Agra and Delhi in India. The objections which he found to a volume of songs, seemed equally applicable to single productions which might be included in such a category, and he not only suppressed many he had written, but cautiously cut out verses in such as had been printed, before he allowed them to be published again. He went so far as to request that the song for which he obtained the Jenny Lind prize in 1850, should be kept forever out of print. Some of these are said to be among his papers in Germany, where his body now lies, and the writer sincerely wishes to see them all in print at a day not very remote, together with the epistolary poems and friendly sonnets which have been sent by him to the distinguished scholars and poets who enjoyed his friendship. It will take time to gather them, but, when collected, will make the best of reading, and will show the joyous, simple, sincere character of the poet, as no amo............