Tom Taylor

“ Tom Taylor was a man of unbounded kindness in helping everybody who was in need of money or in trouble; his generosity probably made him the object of attentions from all sorts and conditions of people, a fact very soon discovered by his domestics, for one day Mr. and Mrs. Taylor returned from a walk to be met by a startled parlourmaid who announced the presence of a strange-looking man who was waiting to see them. Her suspicions being aroused by his wild appearance, she had shown him into the pantry, fearing to leave him in the drawing-room. ”

“ It was when Tom and the others were coming from drill, a few days later, with aching shoulders and legs—for the ordeal had been severe—that our hero received a surprise.
With his chums he was passing along the parade ground, when he saw approaching an officer whose figure seemed vaguely familiar. The “plebes” saluted as they passed him. Tom had a look at his face.
“Captain Hawkesbury!” murmured Tom, under his breath. “What can he be doing here?” he asked Sam, as he passed on, getting a sharp look from the glittering eyes of Clarence’s uncle. ”

“ In spite of the care lavished upon its production, and of much clever acting on the part of the company, Tom Taylor's comedy "Victims," originally presented at the Haymarket in 1857, failed to attract audiences in 1878, and was speedily withdrawn. Withdrawn, it may be unhesitatingly said, in favour of his greatest managerial success—the stage version by W. G. Wills of Oliver Goldsmith's immortal story "The Vicar of Wakefield," entitled "Olivia." John Hare suggested the subject to Wills, and it was at once seized with the characteristic avidity of a prolific and graceful writer. ”

“ You did print what I quote, you know, Tom; and it is surely unimportant what more you may have written of the Master. That you should have written anything at all is your crime.
No; shrive your naughty soul, and give up Velasquez, and pass your last days properly in the Home Office.
Set your house in order with the Government for arrears of time and paper, and leave vengeance to the Lord, who will forgive my "garbling" Tom Taylor's writing.
The White House, Jan. 8, 1879.
Serious (p. 038) Sarcasm
Pardon me, my dear Whistler, for having taken you au sérieux even for a moment. ”

“ Clarence struggled to his feet, but some of the cadets with him gathered around him.
“Say, you don’t know enough to quit when you’ve had enough,” said one. “He’ll only knock you down again. You’re in no condition to fight.”
“That’s right, Hawkesbury. Take it easy,” advised another. “What do you want to mix things up for?”
“Why he’s the fellow who did me out of my appointment—my West Point place—he did it—Tom Taylor!” and he pointed a wavering finger at our hero. ”

“ Tom said; “he hasn’t kept the Garrison appointment yet, and I’ve got a chance.”
[Pg 177]
“What are you going to do?” his chum asked, eagerly.
“I’m going to try and be in Garrison, at the hotel, when Captain Hawkesbury and Aaron Doolittle have their conference,” was the reply. “I’m going to try to hear what they say. It isn’t just my usual style of doing things, but it can’t be helped.”
“No,” agreed Sam, “it’s fair enough to get evidence that way against men of that character. The only thing is, though, can you make it work?”
“I can try,” Tom said. ”

“ James Virtue, who was a fine oar and President of the London Rowing Club, was one of the most cheerful men one could wish to meet; and as hostess, his wife, who, I am happy to say, is still living, was equally delightful. His brother William Virtue afterwards saved my life—but that is anticipating events somewhat.
Mr. and Mrs. Tom Taylor were another interesting and talented couple who were friends of my parents. Tom Taylor was the art critic of the Times, and at one time editor of Punch. ”

“ Taylor simply. “All I have to go by is the rough draft of the deed of trust. Whether your father carried out his idea as outlined in that, I cannot say. The plan was probably a good one, but it failed as far as we are concerned. I mean we have derived no benefit from the land.”
“No, but we will, Mother!” Tom exclaimed, vigorously.
“What do you mean?” Mrs. Taylor was startled.
“I mean I am going to see Mr. Doolittle, and ask him about this deed of trust. If he and Captain Hawkesbury held the land in that way they should turn over to us the money they got from the railroad company. ”

“ Tom emphasized the word “borrow.”
“Another thing,” he went on. “I don’t need money to continue at West Point. I am being paid for staying there.”
“Paid! Huh! What’s this country coming to, anyhow, when it squanders money on such foolishness?” snorted the crabbed old man.
Tom did not answer that question. It was too big. What he did say was:
“Mr. Doolittle, I have called on you in reference to a deed of trust my father drew shortly before his death, naming you and Captain Hawkesbury as trustees of a certain piece of land—land where the railroad bridge now stands. ”

“ I certainly would give anything for the chance to go to West Point. But there! No use thinking about it!”
Tom seemed to blow the matter away as though it were some trifle, light as air, and he assumed a manner of indifference that he did not altogether feel.
“Come on, Mother,” he begged, tossing the money into her lap through the open window. “Take a half-hour off. You’ll be all the better for it. You haven’t been eating well lately. A walk to the woods will give you an appetite.”
“I believe I will go with you, Tom,” she said, with sudden decision. ”

“ Doolittle, Tom tried to enjoy his furlough. He went out with many of his former friends, and made some new ones. He was in great demand at several little dances gotten up by the High School Alumnae, and he showed some of the girls new steps that he had learned from his cadet chums.
“Say, Tom,” remarked Walter Penfield, one day, “I’ll be glad when you go back to the Academy.”
“Why?” asked Tom, in surprise.
“Because the girls talk about nothing but you and your dances. You don’t give another fellow a show!” ”

“ Tom had little doubt as to the result of the physical tests. He was in fine condition; he had lived a manly, clean life.
He played baseball and football in season, he was a good runner, jumper and swimmer. In short, he was an average, healthful American lad—a good all-around athlete, though no phenomenon in any one branch of sport.
He had been quickly passed by the first doctors who examined him, and though he realized that the physical tests at West Point would be more severe, he was not worrying on that score. ”

“ This Tom did and his strained nerves came back to normal again.
Mrs. Taylor had raised the hundred dollars that Tom must deposit to be allowed to take the examination. If he failed it would be returned to him, less a small charge for board during his stay at West Point. Just how much his mother had sacrificed to raise this sum Tom never knew.
“But I do wish you had more money to live on, Mother,” he said a few days before he was to depart for West Point. “You ought to be rich.”
“Riches do not always bring happiness, Tom,” she said.
“They often help a whole lot,” Tom said, with a smile. ”

“ A bath, a change of linen, and supper made Tom feel much better, and then came a long evening spent on the hotel porch where were many other lads, all eager for what lay before them—eager and anxious, most of them; some so much so that they went about with books in their hands, gluing their eyes to the pages every now and then. They were “cramming for exams,” and no greater torture can be devised for a young fellow.
Some of the boys told of having gone up to have a look at West Point that day, they having been at Highland Falls for some time, preparing for the ordeal. ”

“ Tom said, eagerly. “When may I get out of bed, Doctor?”
“Pretty soon now. I guess we’ve eliminated any possibility of an internal injury. You can get up and walk as soon as it doesn’t hurt you too much to move. I expect, though, that you’re going to be lame and stiff for some time yet.”
Tom was. It was agony to get out of bed for the first time, but he persisted, knowing that the sooner he began to use his muscles and joints the more quickly would they limber up, and lose their soreness and stiffness.
The time came when Tom could leave the hospital and walk about. His chums rejoiced with him. ”

“ My mother nearly always wore the color, and the Taylors lived at Lavender Sweep! This may not be an excellent reason for my feelings on the subject, but it is reason good enough.
"Nature repairs her ravages," it is said, but not all. New things come into one's life—new loves, new joys, new interests, new friends—but they cannot replace the old. When Tom Taylor died, I lost a friend the like of whom I never had again.
VI A YEAR WITH THE BANCROFTS
My engagement with the Bancrofts lasted a little over a year. After Portia there was nothing momentous about it. ”

“ Supper was rather an excited meal, and Tom fairly ran home with the dress his mother finished. He was paid, and as he carried back the money he thought:
“It’s a shame I can’t make more myself. I don’t like the idea of taking the money mother earns with her needle to go to West Point with. I sure do want to go, though!”
“But I’ll make good!” he declared to himself, “and when I do, and when I’m earning a decent salary, I’ll make it all up to mother. She can live with me in barracks, perhaps, and I’ll be an engineer in charge of some big work. Say, it sure will be great!” ”

“ But I think I can find something else to do. Business is picking up a little. I’m going to be on the lookout. Something is sure to turn up. And I do hope it will be something worth while, so I can, by some means or other, get enough ahead to go to West Point.”
“You haven’t forgotten your ambition I see, Tom,” said his mother, as she vigorously plied her needle, taking advantage of the last hours of daylight.
“Forgotten it, Mother? Indeed I haven’t! I never shall. I intend to go to West Point, and become an army officer.” ”

“ Of course money wouldn’t make any difference to me at West Point. That’s one place where money doesn’t count. But if we had a few thousands mother could be nearer me, say in New York, and she could run up to see me once in a while. It’s going to be a long drill—two years at a stretch. But I guess I can stand it all right.”
Tom was about to proceed to the boathouse to hire a craft, when he was aware of a figure coming around a bend in the path that led to the river. A moment later he saw that it was Captain Hawkesbury. ”

“ A QUARREL
“Oh, Tom! How fine you look! How tall and straight you are! What a—why, what a man you have become!”
Thus our hero’s mother greeted him as she met him at the Chester station on the occasion of Tom’s first home-coming.
“Tom, you are so—so big!”
Her eyes were shining, as only a mother’s eyes can shine, while she held out her hands to welcome her son.
“Well, Mother,” Tom said, as he kissed her, “West Point makes a specialty of helping boys grow up. ”

“ The one Taylor he had always loved and felt easy with had been his brother Tom. Tom had been an ideal big brother, kindly and friendly, never twitting him with being slow-witted. Spottswood was only a little boy when his brother went off to be an artist but he remembered with clearness his grief at his leaving home and then, when he was seventeen and the news came of Tom's death in New York, his poignant though silent suffering had left a mark on the shy, sullen boy. ”

“ Tom gave up his plan of seeing young Blasdell, at least for the present. Now all depended on the move Captain Hawkesbury would make.
Events happened more quickly than Tom had expected, though he was just as glad they did. Nervous waiting is about the most tiresome thing there is.
Shortly after dinner, when the limited freedom Tom and Sam had secured went into effect, Tom received word that Captain Hawkesbury had left his quarters, in civilian’s dress.
“That means he’s going!” cried Tom. “Are you with me, Sam?”
“I sure am! We’ll go to Garrison right away.” ”

“ He thought of how Captain Hawkesbury and Aaron Doolittle had so easily profited by his father’s efforts, and a deep regret filled our hero’s heart. Of course Tom realized that his father might have mismanaged, and have made mistakes or unfortunate speculations, as men often do. ”

“ It wouldn’t look very well reporting back all wet,” agreed Harry.
“They’ve got a motor boat,” remarked Sam, as they saw Clarence and the cadets preparing to enter a fine gasoline craft.
“Yes, that belongs to Captain Hawkesbury.” Tom said. He could not keep back a certain bitter feeling in his heart that he should be so poor as not to be able to afford a craft of this kind, while the other lad had one. “And, maybe, if the truth were known,” reflected Tom, “it was bought with the money my father might have made on that railroad land deal.” ”

“ He occasionally appeared with success in amateur theatricals, more especially in the character of Adam in As You Like It and of Jasper in A Sheep in Wolfs Clothing. He had some talent for painting, and for many years was art critic to The Times and the Graphic. He died at Lavender Sweep, Wandsworth, on the 12 th of July 1880.
Apart from the drama, Tom Taylor's chief contributions to literature are his biographies of painters, viz., Autobiography of B. R. Haydon (1853) ”

“ Tom’s mother, now properly installed in a fine home in Chester, came to see him, and he took her about West Point, from Flirtation Walk to Fort Putnam and Old Fort Clinton—to all the places of interest—so that she enjoyed herself very much. She was very proud of her son, and Tom’s chums made much of his mother.
Tom devoted himself diligently to his studies. Civil and military engineering formed a large part, during that last year, and naturally gunnery and ordnance were made much of. Tom had developed into one of the best riders at the Academy, and there were some daring and reckless ones. ”