Clara Hopgood - Page 74/105

Baruch did not obtain any very definite information from Marshall

about Clara. He was told that she had a sister; that they were both

of them gentlewomen; that their mother and father were dead; that

they were great readers, and that they did not go to church nor

chapel, but that they both went sometimes to hear a certain Mr A. J.

Scott lecture. He was once assistant minister to Irving, but was now

heretical, and had a congregation of his own creating at Woolwich.

Baruch called at the shop and found Clara once more alone. The book

was packed up and had being lying ready for him for two or three

days. He wanted to speak, but hardly knew how to begin. He looked

idly round the shelves, taking down one volume after another, and at

last he said, 'I suppose nobody but myself has ever asked for a copy of Robinson?'

'Not since I have been here.' 'I do not wonder at it; he printed only two hundred and fifty; he

gave away five-and-twenty, and I am sure nearly two hundred were sold

as wastepaper.' 'He is a friend of yours?'

'He was a friend; he is dead; he was an usher in a private school,

although you might have supposed, from the title selected, that he

was a clerk. I told him it was useless to publish, and his

publishers told him the same thing.'

'I should have thought that some notice would have been taken of him;

he is so evidently worth it.'

'Yes, but although he was original and reflective, he had no

particular talent. His excellence lay in criticism and observation,

often profound, on what came to him every day, and he was valueless

in the literary market. A talent of some kind is necessary to genius

if it is to be heard. So he died utterly unrecognised, save by one

or two personal friends who loved him dearly. He was peculiar in the

depth and intimacy of his friendships. Few men understand the

meaning of the word friendship. They consort with certain companions

and perhaps very earnestly admire them, because they possess

intellectual gifts, but of friendship, such as we two, Morris and I

(for that was his real name) understood it, they know nothing.'

'Do you believe, that the good does not necessarily survive?'

'Yes and no; I believe that power every moment, so far as our eyes

can follow it, is utterly lost. I have had one or two friends whom

the world has never known and never will know, who have more in them

than is to be found in many an English classic. I could take you to

a little dissenting chapel not very far from Holborn where you would

hear a young Welshman, with no education beyond that provided by a

Welsh denominational college, who is a perfect orator and whose depth

of insight is hardly to be matched, save by Thomas A Kempis, whom he

much resembles. When he dies he will be forgotten in a dozen years.

Besides, it is surely plain enough to everybody that there are

thousands of men and women within a mile of us, apathetic and

obscure, who, if, an object worthy of them had been presented to

them, would have shown themselves capable of enthusiasm and heroism.

Huge volumes of human energy are apparently annihilated.'