The Life, Travels, and Literary Career of Bayard TaylorConwell, Russell H.
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The Life, Travels, and Literary Career of Bayard Taylor
Conwell, Russell H.
Taylor, Bayard, 1825-1878
Three months have gone since we heard from a distant land
that the spirit of our comrade had departed. His life was
eager, noble, wide-renowned. It lasted for more than half a
century, yet ceased prematurely, and we say, “He should have
died hereafter!” Here, to-day, at this very spot, the mould
which held that spirit returns to the self-same earth which
nurtured it. Here the mortal journeyings are forever ended.
The seas, the deserts, the mountain-ranges, shall be crossed
no more; the joyous eyes are veiled; the near, warm heart can
throb no longer; the stalwart frame has fallen, and henceforth
lies at rest. For us the record is closed; but is it ended
without a continuance? This is the question, which here, at
this moment, in this place, so strongly comes to each one
of those who were his comrades, whom he loved with all his
generous nature, to whom he was ever stanch and true, for whom
he would at all times have given all he had, from whom only
his dust now can receive the love, the tender utterance, the
ceaseless remembrance which they seek to offer in return. Are
the travels then in truth forever ended? Shall there be, for
our brother, no more insatiable thirst for knowledge, no more
high poetic speech, no more looking toward the stars? For
one, I try to answer from his own lips, since they so often
foretokened it. If ever a longing for eternal life, a resolve
not to be deprived of action, a beautiful and absolute faith
that the Power which governs all had decreed that these should
not surcease—if these ever have given a mortal a hold on
immortality, then our Bayard still is living, though above and
beyond us. For however dimmed may be the vision wherewith some
of us strive in vain, whatever our hopes, to look behind the
veil, for him there was neither doubt nor darkness. He could
not, would not, tolerate the idea of one-sided individuality.
I have never known a man whose trust in this one thing was so
absolutely and always unshaken, or who had a more abiding,
sustaining faith in the perfection of the universal plan and in
the beneficence of its Designer.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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