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.'