He had long suffered from a mild form of a kidney disease, but neither he nor his physicians attached any importance to that complaint. On the day that he died, he arose from his bed, dressed, and received visitors. Feeling tired, at noon, he concluded to lie down and rest. He slept for a short time, quietly, but on awakening, his mind wandered, and his symptoms became at once alarming. Dr. Lowe Kalbe, who was Mr. Taylor’s physician, and an old friend, was with him, together with Mrs. Taylor and their daughter Lillian. But he sank rapidly, and at four o’clock in the afternoon, peacefully passed away. How like a voice from a living Past came to us his own sad lines, when they said to us in sadness,—“Bayard Taylor is dead!” “I never knew the autumnal eves could wear, With all their pomp, so drear a hue of Death; I never knew their still and solemn breath Could rob the breaking heart of strength to bear, Feeding the blank submission of despair. Yet, peace, sad soul! Reproach and pity shine, Suffused through starry tears: bend thou in prayer, Rebuked by Love divine.” “Why art thou dead? Upon the hills once more The golden mist of waning Autumn lies; The slow-pulsed billows wash along the shore, And phantom isles are floating in the skies. They wait for thee: a spirit in the sand Hushes, expectant for thy coming tread; The light wind pants to lift thy trembling hair; Inward, the silent land Lies with its mournful woods;—why art thou dead, When Earth demands that thou shalt call her fair?” CHAPTER XXX. His Friends.—The Multitude of Mourners.—His London Acquaintances.—Tennyson, Cornwall, Browning, Carlyle.—German Popularity.—Auerbach.—Humboldt.—French Authors.—Early American Friends.—Stoddard, Willis, Kane, Bryant, Halleck, Powers, Greeley, Mrs. Kirkland, Whittier, Longfellow, Holmes, Emerson, Lowell, Dana, Alcott, Aldrich, Whipple, Curtis, Fields, Boker, Chandler.—Relatives. Seldom has the death of a single individual wounded the hearts of so many personal friends. Men have attained to greater renown, and have been, perhaps, as extensively known by their writings and their fame; but rare, indeed, can be found in history the name of one who had so many intimate companions. The number of those who claimed the right to be his friends is beyond computation, at this time,—within a few weeks after his death,—but it includes many of the most noted men of the world. Alfred Tennyson, the poet-laureate of England, was an acquaintance and correspondent of Mr. Taylor’s, their first meeting being at Mr. Tennyson’s house, Farringford, on the Isle of Wight.