In certain ways, he and his friend, Bayard Taylor, made an
interesting contrast with each other. Here was Boker [circa
1878] who had just come back from diplomatic service abroad;
and here, too, was Taylor, who was just going abroad
as minister to Berlin. Both were poets; they were
fellow-Pennsylvanians and friends; and they were men of large
mould physically, and of impressive presence; yet they were
very dissimilar types. Boker, though massive and with a trace
of the phlegmatic in his manner (perhaps derived from his
Holland ancestors, the Bôchers, who had come thither from
France, and had then sent a branch into England, from which
the American family sprang), was courtly, polished, slightly
reserved. His English forefathers had belonged to the
Society of Friends, as had also Taylor's family in
Pennsylvania,--another point in common. But Taylor's
appearance, as his friends will remember, was somewhat bluff
and rugged; his manner was hearty and open.

Launched in the literary life, therefore, Boker began to write
assiduously. "Calaynos," the tragedy referred to by Taylor, went into
two editions during 1848, and the following year was played by Samuel
Phelps at Sadler's Wells Theatre, London, May 10. From the New York
_Tribune_ office, on May 29, 1849, Taylor wrote:

Your welcome letter came this morning, and from the bottom of
my heart was I rejoiced by it. I can well imagine your feeling
of triumph at this earnest of fame.... I instantly hunted
up the London "Times" and found "Calaynos" advertised for
performance,--second night. I showed it to Griswold, who was