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 À 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.’
‘It is very shocking, worse to me than the thought of the earthquake or
the pestilence.’
‘I said “yes and no” and there is another side. The universe is so
wonderful, so intricate, that it is impossible to trace the
transformation of its forces, and when they seem to disappear the
disappearance may be an illusion. Moreover, “waste” is a word which is
applicable only to finite resources. If the resources are infinite it
has no meaning.’
Two customers came in and Baruch was obliged to leave. When he came to
reflect, he was surprised to find not only how much he had said, but what
he had said. He was usually reserved, and with strangers he adhered to
the weather or to passing events. He had spoken, however, to this young
woman as if they had been acquainted for years. Clara, too, was
surprised. She always cut short attempts at conversation in the shop.
Frequently she answered questions and receipted and returned bills
without looking in the faces of the people who spoke to her or offered
her the money. But to this foreigner, or Jew, she had disclosed
something she felt. She was rather abashed, but presently her employer,
Mr Barnes, returned and somewhat relieved her.
‘The gentleman who bought _After Office Hours_ came for it while you were
out?’
‘Oh! what, Cohen? Good fellow Cohen is; he it was who recommended you to
me. He is brother-in-law to your landlord.’ Clara was comforted; he was
not a mere ‘casual,’ as Mr Barnes called his chance customers.