COLONEL ROBERT H. TAYLOR.

 

            HE would have been a great statesman had not nature given him so many splendid gifts to lure him from a settled and high purpose. Then in a rollicking mood, Bacchus must have stooped and kissed his baby lips while he was yet in his cradle. He was just about the height and size of James G. Blaine, quite as bright, but far more versatile.

            He was born and reared, educated, and studied law in New York City. He married into a stately family there one of the old "400," in which no one could gain recognition unless his credentials were of the highest. Had he remained I am sure that he would have divided honors with the very highest, for his equipment was complete ; he was perfect physically and his mind was superb. After a few years his wife died, leaving a boy perhaps ten years old. Then came the news of the gold discoveries in the west, and he, with some others, chartered or bought a bark, and after a very long voyage, reached San Francisco. Marysville had just been "located," and he went there to begin the practice of his profession. While erratic in a thousand ways he was as methodical and automatic as a piece of machinery. No lawyer ever drew up the papers in a case with more care. They are models in every court in which he ever practiced. They were perfect as legal documents, but in addition there was a style about them which few lawyers could in the least imitate, for while the strict legal phraseology was closely clung to, a word here and there gave them a rhythm which was as though Jove, while framing a decree, was humming low to himself a strain from one of Apollo's songs, which mellowed the irrevocable edict. And still he was a natural poet. When any public occasion required it. he was on hand with a poem, or a dissertation in prose which only required to have its measure changed to make it a poem. Indeed, in Marysville, he practically edited a newspaper for a long time. Moreover, he was as good an actor as he was poet or lawyer, and often appeared to help out an amateur play.

COLONEL ROBERT H. TAYLOR. 219

            Later, in Virginia City, he played Iago to Lawrence Barrett's Othello, and divided the honors with Barrett. From Marysville he moved to Downieville and a little later was elected district judge and held the office for years until he voluntarily gave it up to remove to Virginia City. He had not been long in Downieville until news reached him that his boy in New York had been killed by a fall from a tree. He was never quite the same after that. He had the same devotion to duty ; the same cordial bearing, the same warm-hearted generosity; but there was an indefinable change. He was at night more reckless in throwing off the cares of the day ; his dreams for a high fortune and great name seemed to begin to fade away, and he cared less for the approval or at least the applause of his fellow men. But as a judge he filled every requirement. We never heard a complaint of his rulings, never heard of any man who ever cast a reflection on his absolute integrity He was one of the most perfect presiding officers that we ever saw, either on the bench or in a convention when the disposition was sometimes to make things stormy.

            He never became confused, never lost his balance, nor his temper, and with his superb and perfectly practiced and disciplined voice, his rulings had a cadence and power which were never appealed from. He was a wonderful elocutionist. He could read a funeral service in a way to give the listener a feeling as though while he read an unseen organ was accompanying him.

            As age came on he grew more dignified and more reckless. Although I never heard of his quarreling, he had a self- respect which never failed him. A man had been saying some mean things about him. He paid no attention to it, but one morning the same man approached smiling and with a "Good morning, Colonel," held out his hand. Taylor looked at him an instant, then turning away said, "Excuse me; I have just washed my hands."

            I returned to Virginia City after an absence of some weeks and met the colonel a little after dark. We were near one of the famous saloons of those days, and the colonel insisted that we must take something. While standing at the bar, a German

220 AS I REMEMBER THEM.

brass band, a new organization, began playing in front of the saloon.

            The colonel explained : 'It is a new band and the members need encouragement. Excuse me for one minute." He made a dash for the leader and I went my way.

            I met him the next afternoon and asked him how he got along with his German friends the previous night.

            He smiled and said : "Our German- American fellow citizens are hard gentlemen to throw down. It took me until 2 a. m. to do it."

            I met him late one night with his partner Judge Campbell, and Judge Hardy. All had been drinking a good deal. Campbell and Hardy were considerably intoxicated. Taylor had drunk as often as the others, but was fully himself. The proposition was for another drink, and Hardy insisted that Taylor should sing again, "If I Had But a Thousand a Year." Taylor was as good a singer as he was elocutionist ; but he had important business early on the morrow and said that he was going home.

            In the meantime, he had managed to whisper to me : "Hardy is getting his incipient whoop on ; we must get him home, for when real drunk he becomes mean and quarrelsome." After a little further parley we started Hardy and Campbell in front arm in arm walking with unsteady steps ; Taylor and myself in the rear.

            It was one of those still, delicious moonlight nights which Virginia City is given to in the dog days.

            At the time the Civil war had just closed ; all three, Taylor, Campbell and Hardy, were Democrats. Hardy a fierce Southern Democrat, a great friend of Terry, Gwin and the others of that school. But when the walk started, Campbell struck up "John Brown's Body Lies A-mouldering in the Grave," and Hardy joined him. We passed from C street up Union street to B, and then south on B street.

            At one of the big livery stables on B street the stable boys had a pet black sheep named Joe. Joe was as well known as the mayor of the city. He had some pretty bad habits. He was fond of tobacco and especially fond of beer. On this night

COLONEL ROBERT H. TAYLOR. 221

Joe was lying on the outer edge of the sidewalk enjoying himself. Just as Campbell and Hardy came opposite him, they reached the stanza, ''John Brown's pet lambs will meet him on the way," when Joe arose and gave a responsive "Bah." The singers were too much occupied to notice the aptness of Joe's response, but Taylor, with a "Did you hear that?" sat down on the curb of the walk with his feet in the gutter in a perfect hysteria of laughter. The judges turned up Taylor street toward A, where they both resided. I went with Taylor to his gate and left him. Next morning at 10 a. m. he was in court, and from his words and bearing no one would ever have discovered that a few hours before he had been sitting on the edge of the sidewalk with his feet in the gutter and screaming with laughter over a brief remark made by a black sheep.

            He worked two years on a case in which he had a great fortune pending. It was decided against him in a territorial court. He told me that all the law and all the facts were in his favor ; other great lawyers said the same, but he would not say a harsh word of the judge. He had been for several years a judge himself, but had "'the recall" been possible in those days, I suspect he would have voted for it. He worked on, but his wild nights became more frequent, and the wrong side of stocks had something to do with it, for he left Virginia City fortuneless and passed the remainder of his life in San Francisco.

            I can but think that had he remained in New York, he would have made a name as great as Samuel J. Tilden or Roscoe Conkling. He had all their high attributes and other winsome qualities that neither possessed, but lacked one thing, which was fixedness of purpose. There was so much of the thoroughbred in him that once in a while if he could not get proper exercise he would kick a side out of his own stable ; then with his strength and power he was by nature so genial and so bright that every Bohemian sought him out. He was the happiest toastmaster that ever presided at a banquet ; as orator of the day, no matter what the occasion, he was always perfect ; if a role needed filling at the theatre, he could assume it with perfect grace, and could melt an audience to tears just

222 AS I REMEMBER THEM.

by the way he read a burial service. He should have made for himself a great name, and would, had he been denied half his winsome gifts, or had his lot been cast where only steady business was the rule and where the highest society was exacting in its requirements.

            He was the soul of honor; moreover, he was a devout Christian. He told me once that Archbishop McCloskey of New York was the greatest and most winsome man he had ever met. Under his eye what might not have been his fame ? Had he remained in Sierra county, he would have been judge for life and held with the highest. But in Virginia City in its palmy days, there were no brakes on men and every boiler carried double pressure.

            R. H. Taylor was one of the truest and best of friends, and the keenest regret that followed him to his grave was that he was not a more exacting friend of himself.