Senator Bob Taylor

              1908
243

Figure

COPYRICHT
1908 BY
HARRIS & EWING
SENATOR BOB TAYLOR

MLB

EXCLUSIVE DIRECTION OF
The Mutual Lyceum Bureau
55 Auditorium Bldg.   CHICAGO, ILL.




Announcement
This world is a hanging garden of beauty to those who love it; it is the harp of a thousand strings to those who laugh and sing.—TAYLOR



LECTURES BY SENATOR BOB TAYLOR:

THE FIDDLE AND THE BOW.
LOVE, LAUGHTER AND SONG.
THE LOTTERY OF LIFE.
CASTLES IN THE AIR.



IT has long been conceded that Senator Bob Taylor has no peer as a versatile entertainer.  Our country is prolific of great orators, word painters, humorists and story tellers, who spring up almost with every new day, but seldom do the centuries unveil a man who combines the talents of all these.  Such a man is Bob Taylor, and the new lecture he presents for the coming season gives the widest range to his varied talents.  He has spent much time in its preparation, and it is new from the first castle which he builds with silver tongue, through all of its delicate humor and side-splitting anecdotes, to its peroration of matchless beauty.



The Mutual Lyceum Bureau



FAREWELL ADDRESS AS DELIVERED BY GOV. TAYLOR ON HIS RETIREMENT AS GOVERNOR IN 1899

I am about to shuffle off this mortal coil of politics and fly away to the haven of my native mountains, where I may think and dream in peace, safe from the sickening sting of unjust criticism; safe from the talons of some old political vulture; safe from the slimy kiss and keen dagger of ingratitude.  I do not mean to say that all politicians are vultures, or that they are all hypocrites or assassins; for the great majority of our public men are upright and honest, and worthy of the confidence reposed in them by the people; yet, there are black wings in the political firmament, and reptiles crawl and hiss in every capitol.  But, thank God, the live thunders of eternal truth always clear the atmosphere, and the heel of justice will surely bruise the serpent's head.  I do not retire from this office with the rankling of disappointment and chagrin in my bosom, but rather as one who retires from labor to rest, from war to peace, from trouble to happiness.  I do not retire, the 'somnambulist of a shattered dream,' but with all the buds of hope bursting into bloom, and all the bowers of the future ringing with melody.  I am contented with my lot in life.  Three times I have worn the laurel wreath of honor, twined by the people of my native State, and that is glory enough for me.

While I believe that the good in politics outweighs the bad, yet how thorny is the path, and how unhappy the pilgrimage to him who dares to do his duty.  There are no flowers, except a few bouquets snatched from the graves of fallen foes; there is no happiness except the transient thrill of cruel triumph, which passes like a shadow across the heart.

Every honest man who runs for office is a candidate for trouble,
 for the fruits of political victory turn to ashes on the lips.  To me there is nothing in this world so pathetic as a candidate.  He is like a mariner without a compass, drifting on the tempest-tossed waves of uncertainty, between the smiling cliffs of hope and the frowning crags of fear.  He is a walking petition and a living prayer; he is the packhorse of public sentiment; he is the dromedary of politics.  And even if he reaches the goal of his ambition, he will soon feel the beak of the vulture in his heart and the fang of the serpent in his soul.

I am no longer a candidate.  Never again will I be inaugurated into public office.  The ark of my humble public career now rests on the Ararat of private life, and I stand on its peaceful summit and look down on the receding floor of politics.  The dove of my destiny has brought me an olive branch from happier fields, and I go hence to labor and to love.  I take with me a heart full of gratitude and a soul full of precious memories—gratitude to the people for their unwavering confidence in me—precious memories of my friends, who have been kind and true.  The record I have made is an open book to all.  I am willing to live by that record.  I am willing to die by it.  For whatever mistakes I may have committed, I have kept steadily in view the honor of the State and the happiness of the people.

As I have already presented my views on public questions in my recent message to the General Assembly, I deem it unnecessary to further discuss them on this happy occasion—happy to our new Governor, happy to me, happy to us all.  It only remains for me to bid you all an affectionate and final farewell, and to express the prayer that the Christ who died for love and mercy's sake will guide our Chief Executive, and all who shall follow him, in the paths of peace and love, and baptize them with the spirit of mercy.  Farewell, farewell.



Taken from the Press
I believe that every hearty laugh is a hallelujah!  and that songs are the wings of the soul.—TAYLOR


NEW ORLEANS PICAYUNE.
No effort at word-painting could possibly attain a sublimer height.


DALLAS NEWS.
His fun was sandwiched in when least expected, and it sent his audience into roars of laughter.


ATLANTA CONSTITUTION.
Gov. Bob Taylor will never see the day when his jokes will fail to reach the hearts of men and women.


NASHVILLE AMERICAN.
His very tone of voice is enchanting, and his aptitude at catching the spirit of his auditors and taking them close to his heart is wonderful.


KNOXVILLE JOURNAL.
His pathos is deep, tender, and heart-moving.  His description of music is as sweet as the strains of a lyre, and his wit as bracing as the song of a lark.


NASHVILLE BANNER.
While dallying in the garden of Paradise, and speaking of universal love there, he sang for the she-monkey: My love is a Precious Baboon.  He carries the hearer through the diapason of human emotions.


NEW YORK WORLD. (Editorially.)
Whether with mouth or fiddle, ex-Gov. Robert L. Taylor, of Tennessee, is easily one of the most accomplished performers of the world.  * * * As a Paganini among politicians and a Patrick Henry among fiddlers, the ex-Governor is undoubtedly the most admirable product of the moonshine regions of his admirable State.  * * * Whether as fiddler, orator or patriot, he is an unqualified success, and a credit to the country of which his native moonlit mountains form so picturesque a part.




EXTRACTS FROM COMMENT OF NEW YORK HERALD ON GOV. TAYLOR'S LECTURE ON DIXIE DELIVERED IN NEW YORK CITY ON THE EVENING OF NOVEMBER NINETEEN, 1895

He has, too, the happy knack of dialect, and his stories of the negro quarters were in consequence artistic gems.  The wonderful versatility of the man can hardly be overestimated.  From the broadest humor he jumped in a flash to the highest eloquence.  He talked in dialect and blank verse, recited statistics, and then sang plantation songs.  * * * Between songs the former Governor would start off on a picturesque description of the charms of the South.  It was like the tinkling of bells, the rippling of running water, and the audience seemed to regret the ending when he bowed and retired.




CHATTANOOGA TIMES
Bob Taylor is more than a genius in his way, and to-day stands alone as the great portrayer, upon the lecture platform, of the beauties of nature, and delineator of the humbler characters.  His is a heart of melody and a tongue of gold.


MEMPHIS SCIMITAR
A flash of imagery, a burst of eloquence, and a wealth of glittering thoughts scattered like fireflies over a clover-field—that is Bob Taylor's lecture.  A song borne in the wings of some dear old melody, a joke rippling from a fountain of humor, a subtle note of pathos awakening tender, sacred memories—that is Bob Taylor's lecture.  Words painted in all the colors of fancy and put together with all the skill of faultless diction, the lights of innocent childhood, and the shadows of somber age developed on the background of common experience—that is Bob Taylor's lecture.  A radiant smile penetrating the gloom of despondency, a ray of hope arched in every man's horizon, a fragrant flower to brighten and to cheer—that is Bob Taylor's lecture.



EXTRACTS FROM HON. HENRY WATTERSON'S EDITORIAL IN THE LOUISVILLE COURIER-JOURNAL OF FEBRUARY 3, 1899, COMMENTING ON THE FOREGOING ADDRESS

In its way this is unique.  It stands along.  It ought to become a classic.  One may smile at its simple sincerity, but it is replete with pathos.  There is food for thought in every line of it.  * * * At the time when Bob Taylor allowed himself to be nominated for Governor, * * * he deliberately abandoned an income of from $25,000 to $40,000.  * * * But there is one thing he can surely do.  He can take up the tale where he left it off, * * * the same delightful, scintillant, captivating personality.  * * * Though time be fleeting, art is long, and he is an artist, every inch of him.