Visited by his Cousin.—Decides to go to Europe with his
Cousin.—Correspondence with Travellers.—Lack of Money.—Unshaken
Confidence.—Publication of Ximena.
Bayard had a cousin Frank, or Franklin, whom he held in great respect,
and whose subsequent life, as will be seen hereafter, justified the high
esteem in which Bayard held him. This young man, a few years older than
Bayard, had, by much patience and perseverance, succeeded in obtaining
sufficient money to support himself in an economical manner in Germany,
and had made up his mind to attend the lectures at the university in
Heidelberg.
“Are you really going, Frank?”
“Yes, Bayard, I am going sure.”
“Then I am going with you.”
“But, Bayard, how are you going to get the money to pay your expenses?”
“I do not know where it is coming from, not even for my outfit, but I am
going with you.”
Bayard had written to a great many people, of whom he had heard, asking
them about the expense and outfit for a tour in Europe. Some of them had
made the journey, and some had completed their preparations; but they
all placed the amount so high as to appear like a fabulous sum to the
poor apprentice. None placed the fare at less than five hundred dollars,
while some of the estimates were as high as eighteen hundred dollars. Of
course this poor boy could not earn nor borrow either of these amounts.
Yet he was confident that in some way he would be able to overcome the
difficulty.
Dr. Griswold, of whom mention was made in the last chapter, had suggested
that it might be wise for Bayard to publish, in small book-form, his
sonnets and other poems, and sell them to friends and admirers; and
when he found that Frank was going, he determined to try that method of
raising a little money. He went to some of his old friends and neighbors
for assistance to print his little volume; but so little was their
faith in the boy they had known from his birth, that they told him they
would not encourage him in a scheme so absurd and impracticable. But
Bayard only became the more determined with each defeat. He renewed his
application to friends more distant, and, as is usually the case, he
found they had more confidence than those who looked upon him as the boy
they knew on the farm. From those distant friends, living in Philadelphia
and West Chester, he at last obtained such assistance as to be able to
print a few copies of his poems. He christened his first volume “Ximena,
and other Poems,” and finding many kindly disposed persons who would
like to help him to the small sum asked for the book, but who would
have been ashamed to present him with so diminutive an amount, he was
enabled to dispose of enough in a few days to pay his expenses and a
profit of twenty dollars. Acting upon the advice of Nathaniel P. Willis,
he applied to the editors of the various newspapers in Philadelphia for
employment as a travelling correspondent; but letters from Europe were
becoming stale, and correspondence was overdone, so that he was met with
discouraging refusals on every hand. Fortunately, some one suggested to
him the names of the “Saturday Evening Post,” and the “United States
Gazette.” He was, however, without hope of anything from them. He has
since said to his friends, that he then thought as he could not fare any
worse than he had done, it would do no harm to try again. His confidence
in his final success was so great, that he had made a settlement with
Mr. Evans, of the “Village Record,” and had left the employment of a
printer before he had found or thought of a way to secure funds for his
intended trip. He had no money, no outfit, no employment; and yet he was
sure he should go. In that condition, and in a state of mind bordering
on wonder, because the way which was to open had so long remained shut,
this thin, awkward youth walked confidently into the office of the
“Saturday Evening Post.” Mr. S. D. Patterson was then its editor, and,
while he was disposed to assist the young man, he did not have much
faith in his success as a correspondent. Mr. Patterson, however, gave
Bayard some encouragement, and the youth, with lighter step, went to the
office of the “United States Gazette.” Not finding Mr. J. R. Chandler at
his editorial room, Bayard went to the editor’s residence. Mr. Chandler
was sick in bed; but he was able to converse with Bayard, and received
him very pleasantly. The young man had never met Mr. Chandler before;
but he stated his cause with such frankness and clearness, and showed
such confidence in his final triumph, that Mr. Chandler took out his
pocket-book and gave Bayard fifty dollars, saying that if he sent any
letters of sufficient interest they would be inserted in the columns
of the “Gazette.” Mr. Chandler did not, at the time, care for letters
from Europe, and did not expect to publish any; but, acting from the
promptings of a generous heart, he freely gave the assistance desired. Of
Mr. Chandler’s honorable career, more will be said in another chapter.
On returning to Mr. Patterson, Bayard found him willing to do as he
had proposed, and the sum of fifty dollars was added to the gift of
Mr. Chandler. Then, as if fortunes, like misfortunes, come not singly,
he found a customer for some manuscript poems in a friend of Dr.
Griswold,—George R. Graham. From him Bayard received twenty dollars,
making the round sum of one hundred and forty dollars with which to
begin his journey to the Old World. Bayard now felt independent and
happy. At least he could get across the Atlantic Ocean. He might have to
work as a compositor, or as a common laborer, or even beg for his bread
after he arrived on the other side; he did not know, and seemed to care
but little. He had encountered a hard fortune here, and conquered, and
he felt sure that he could do as well there. Happy, proud day was it
for him when he returned with the money to his home at Kennett Square.
Sad day for Mary Agnew. But as she and Bayard were only playmates and
schoolmates, she must not appear to be especially grieved.
The next thing to be done was to obtain a passport from the United
States Government. It could only be obtained in Washington, and as they
could not afford the expense of the stages, Frank and Bayard started for
Washington on foot. It would seem as if such a journey of one hundred and
twenty miles,—in which they walked thirty miles to Port Deposit, thence
in a rickety tow-boat to Baltimore, and from that city to Washington,
they tramped all night without food or drink,—would have discouraged any
one from attempting to walk through the countries of Europe. For they
must have returned from this first walk footsore and lame in every joint.
Yet they came back as full of hope as when they started out, having seen
Mr. Calhoun, then Secretary of State, and many other celebrities then
inhabiting the capital city,—June, 1844.
Oh! those farewells! To the parents who had watched over him so long,
it seemed like losing him forever, so far away and mythical did Europe
seem to be. Their lips consented, but their hearts kept rapping no, no,
no, in rebellious throbs. The brothers and sisters wept with a grief
never before so keen, and a dread never before so deep. But to the
youth, before whom the great unexplored world lay in its beauty, and who
could not then realize, as he did so keenly afterwards, that in all the
world he would find no spot so sweet and interesting to him as would be
the one he was leaving, it was a joy over which the sadness of parting
for a time was but as the shadow of a cloud on the summer sea. High
hopes, great aspirations, drove him along, while romantic castles and
fortresses, brilliant rivers, heavenly gardens, majestic mountains, wise
people, delightful music, gorgeous galleries of art, and indescribable
landscapes, beckoned him to come. Giddy with anticipation, trembling with
conflicting emotions, he stood in the shade of the oak and the hickory
of the old home that morning, bidding his loved ones good-by. He was a
hero. There was the sense of present loss, and of danger to come; but it
weighed not with him as against the great ambition of his life.
Did he bid Mary Agnew farewell? Perhaps! The mature poet will tell us, in
his own sweet way, by and by.