Memoirs of Arthur Hamilton, B. A. Of Trinity College, Cambridge

milton as

argely into Arthur's life, although he was singularly unsuccessf

f expression-his letters testify to that-

d rare beauty jostling with long passages of the most common-place rhetoric. His platitudes, however, to myself who knew him, have a ge

o does not naturally aim at effect. You feel sure it is the condensation of life and experience

will not stand this, and A

e volum

ipts in his curious sprawling hand. He wrote, when he was in

ion of poems

el, called "The U

, called "Physiognomy," "H

"Coleridge," "Bunyan," "The Earl of Surrey," "Lucian,

they are composed in a very finished style. It is not improbable that I shall re-edit these, as they seem to me to be di

reat A

hammer upon the earth, and said, 'I am weary of walking up and down in the earth, of smiting and slaying; and I know not how to bind or heal up, and I am too

to himself, that when the Gods should be heavy and be sad at heart, they should appoint a judgment for men, should open the everlasting records, and call

aven, and blew the steel trumpet that i

lamentation. They prayed to the mountains to fall upon them, and the sea to swallow them up; for they said, 'The secrets of the

ng, and the waves of the moaning sea drove them shriekin

head shrank out of the sky, and the sea stilled his waves to hear, and the very Gods turned pale and red where they sat, to think that vileness and oppressi

e in the hall; and the sun and moon bowed their heads in witnes

at, sunk down and silent, in his chair, staring at the sh

foot, with a cloud of gleaming gold upon his head, like the sunlight

e and came up the hall, walking strongly and briskly like a king, and

to see him pass, wonderin

hed the middle of the hall, cr

through the fringes of the mist, and he

arted and blanched, and wr

loud voice, not defiant, but w

now; he of whom the ancient oracles have spo

; stand aside therefore, that I

moment while you might count a score,

t not the men or women folk. And when he ceased speaking there blew as it were a whirlwind out of Valhalla, and the high Gods passed away, as it were in skeins and fringes of hanging mist. Then there were lightnings and thunders, and the earth shook; and terrible voices were heard in heaven, passing to and fro. And one said, 'Hence, ye that corrupt justice;' and

s, and two or three note-books full of jotted conve

er to his application. They are twenty-two in number, and are all refus

ch were written at Cambridge. The novel was begun and finished in about six weeks, in

he had one or two ideas, on which he had a firm grasp, to communicate to

interpreting events than himself. He gave the enterprise a long and severe trial, but the resolute front with which he was met, showed him clearly that it was

oughout this period he felt the bitterness of consta

so as to spare their brother publishers the trouble of looking through a manuscript which is below market value. I have never had a manuscript accepted which has been once refused; and I now eagerly scan

e begins an unfinished paper on "Genius." The story is, I now

rom minute to minute the great words flowed on, consoling, wounding, helping,

let me look at the book from which you made your discourse. The written words, though

ut at the last he drew out a little pale book with faded characters traced i

nd saw nothing except t

k, sir, but the book from which

e showed him that four of the words upon the page had a thin line dra

ation; he could keep the ball going creditably when it was once started; but he never communicated to

of that he is always trying

attractiveness, but no particular intellect. He soon wearies of her, being of that fantastic, weak, discontented spirit which Arthur invariably portrayed in his heroes-drawing it I can not conceive whence-and then falls in love with the other, as he ought to have done all along, being, as she is, fully his

palliate, but not to cure; to think of and treat sin as a hideous contagion, which has power for a season, perhaps inherently, to drag souls within its grasp, involve and overwhelm them; and consequently to regard the sinner with the deepest sympathy and pity, but w

to the harmonious mean, we to be screwed up to it. It is easy to see which will be the most painful process: as soon as he gets an idea of whither he is being led, how thankful he will be for every pang tha

king and repulsion, at the mention or sight of it. He loathed it with all the agonized disgust of a high, pure, fastidio

at even the bare description of bodily suffering. I went with him once, at his own request, to a seaman's hospital, where there was a poor fellow who had fa

he time of this failing of his, and the move was executed with such deliberate directness that I thought he must have forgotten something. When I went out to the open air I found Arthur, dead

ssed too far, and must r

intrusion of sin and disorder into the world. He certainly regarded them

lessing of suffering, that I am content to take the rest on trust. If I thought there was some ghastly enemy at work all the time, I should go mad. The power displayed is so calm, so far-reaching, and so divine, that I should feel that even if some of us

riend whose wild and wayward life had injured hi

ishment is atoning for your past every hour. Throw remorse and fear down, if you can; they are only keeping you from God. Many, too many souls are in a far worse case. Some have more to reproach themselves with. On some it has come with what appears to be

you are suffering now, and why. God visited me with suffering once; He has brought me through, and I have never ceased to thank Him for it; and He will bring you through, too, dear friend,

second great principle that pervaded all h

en we get our first glimpse of human anguish, seems almost sickeningly true. But I have seen a great deal lately of such suffering, and it amazes me to discover how extraordinarily rare it is to find the victim taking this view of his case. Either it

are, victims of lust and brutality in Babylon here, whose sense of suffering is almost gone, an

thousand times; but all sacrifice seems essentially good, and I do not

at a storehouse of secrets, dear secrets you will have to tell u

sick man, from time to time, to win a little ease; but when we reach a fresh standpoint, a fresh basis-which, t

f the doctrine of

s of extraordinary happiness succeed one another; little events save vast complications of trouble, so that I long to turn round and grasp by the hand or kiss the cheek of the sweet friend who stands at my elbow, suggesting, ordering, providin

bridge) chapel has given more people a thrill at the thought of Bacon than ever gained one from his books. Personality, personal characteristics, how one craves for them! To take a late instance, how fa

, which was dark and lay in masses, he wore generally rather long. He had got into the way, when without his glasses, of half closing his eyes, because, as he said, it did him so little good to keep them open, as it only served to remind him

pponent's face what he was driving at, an

ave a man an "advent

e; some change colour very quick; some reveal it in the mouth; but the sudden dilatation and c

unstained conscience are not really manifested either in featur

s Plato, of a philosopher-and was consequently well supplied with quotations and allusions, not slavishly repeated, but worked naturally in. I do not mean that he passed for a good talker by skilful plagiarizing, but I found that the wider my range of reading became the more I appre

voted interest. In literary matters I seldom heard his equal. Many and many is the book which I have been induced to read solely by hearing him sketch the purport in little sentences of extraordinary felicity. "The birth and fatal effects of Impulse in a prosaic soul," was a ske

y with whose querulous complaints about ingratitude and rheumatism he had borne and sympathized; others, his abrupt atrocious manner-"Turned his back on me with a scowl, and didn't say another word," as a sporting fast married

ur had once given him a most delicate and pointed rebuke on the practice int

when they are alone; besides, we must

ass, on the two main virtues of a schoolboy-purity and honesty-on the words, "And

that extraordinary gift of apt quotation and seeing unexpected connections, which, to my m

elight in the society

rious tact which divines that all is not well with their older friend, and prompts them to employ all their resources to beguile it. I have been thanked by worldly mothers, in country houses, with something like a touch of nature, for being so good to their boys-'I am so afraid they must have been troublesome to you,'-when they have not only saved me from vapid hard gabble and slanderous gossip, but let in a little

o appearance of self-importance, though an invincible reserve of self-respect. The prig wears chain armor outside, and runs at you with his lance when

ady, who met him several times, wrote out at my request.

Mr.

tive is I can't conceive, as he was not a person I took much interest in, thoug

hooting most of the day, and I think, as far as I can remember, he was a good shot. He smoked a fearful amount, 'all the time,' in fact; they were always attacking him for that. When he came in he used to have some tea in the nursery. We found that out the last day-the children were sent for, and M

o one else: and I can't think why, because children are so impressionable, and

nd these, coming from that grave face, were very ridiculous. He always made friends with the younger ladies. He never seemed to flirt, and yet he used to say things to them in public that eve

they run the risk of having to swallow all sorts of practical jokes, such as getting water thrown on their head and salt put into their tea; but he never compromised himself, and they always behaved to him with respect, but were qui

he conversation. I can't say he succeeded, for we were down on that. I don'

in country houses, of whom no one takes the least notice; he was much more inclined to take no notice of any one else; but it was impossible to forget he was in the room. And the servants were invar

issed the subject of poor old Sir Charles W-- who was staying there. We had been discussing him, and aske

open to the s

truly

ura

is for; however, happily, I have put it

e way in which he treat

picked up. They related to a certain absent

the abstract could exclude the concrete, which is unfortunately not the case with me." Then, in a moment, he said, "P

s sitting next him, "that you don't care abo

ve not to judge of the actual truth of a scandalous story, but you have to judge of the probable truth of it,

ardly any engagements, except for the evening; and admitted hardly anyone, except two or three friends, to see him at his rooms, and then only after one o'clock, before which hour he was absolutely invisible. He was so dreadfully angry with his landlady for showing a gentleman in once in the middle of the morning, that she literally refused ever to do it again

ibrary was good, and he had a ticket for the British Museum Reading-room and belonged to two circulating libraries. He made a point of reading new books (1) if he was strongly reco

d," he said, "that the reflective part of my brain works best when I have as little either bodily or purely intellectual to distract me as possible. And it is the reflective part," he says, "that I always preferred to cultivate, and that latterly I have devoted my whole attention to. It is

e, the motives of human nature, the basis of existence, the solution of the problem of life and being-that vast class of subjects which lie just below

only is certain, that if I am going to teach, and I have a vague sense that I am d

is tall form there, with his eyes "indwelling wistfully," "reputans secum," as Virgil says, lost in speculations and wonders, and a whole host of melancholy broodings over life and death to which he rarely gave voice, but which formed a perpetual background to his tho

dreams, and he not unfrequently told me of them. They always struck me as curiously vivid. I subjoin the follow

ow, wrapped in a cloak, through a very dark wood. I seemed to be in a very heavy mood. We came upon a building brightly lighted, and, enterin

few jests and a song or two; forgetful, all the time, that the lights must be extinguished and the wine spi

k below the surface of things. This laughter and light talk are but the signs and symbols of qualities of whi

ressively, and said, 'Wha

he word ringin

im that I have never heard of in anyone else: a capacity

ion of this

vidness as to blot out everything around me. I have it generally when I am a little tired with exercise or brain-work or people: it is pr

of dazzling whiteness-a green lane, with cows in it. I could go on for ever enumerating them. They pass in a fraction of a second, three or four succeeding one another. My eyes are not shut, nor do I look differ

have discovered since his death. I must add that

of mind; not constant, but from which he never fe

warfare may be being fought out somewhere over one's only half-conscious soul: that some strange decision may be pending." And again: "For the last week, my mind-though I have reiterated again and again to myself that it is

s: it never occurred to me at the time that they were t

ns all the cheerful little daily duties of life into miseries, unutterable burdens; death is the only future event which you can contemplate with satisfaction. It admits of no comfort: the whispered suggestion of the mind, 'You will be better soon,' falls on deaf ears. No

for two years first: now I am prepared. I may even say that though all sense of e

but he seemed to me to maintain, what is far more valuable, a genial

, I must place visiting some of the worst ho

; but he went to have an acquaintance that should be teres et rotundus with all phases of life. He

scriminate charity. I don't see why one set of people should not s

re beginning to disabuse them of this idea. It is a fact which does appeal to them when they see a man that they recognize belongs by right to the 'high life' and could drive in his carriage, or at any rate in somebody else's, and have meat four t

of them no amount of relief or education could do any good now; it would only produce a rank foliage of

some way, and you can only do it wi

ightforward questions and not making his opinions palatable,

y once, and heard that a certain farmer was in tr

so he determined to go over and see him. He asked me to ride with him,

rumbling bank of yellow sand. Presently we came to a gap in the bank, and found we were close to the farm. It lay down to the right, in a little hollow, and was approached by a short drive inclosed by ston

n and surly grumbles, came out blinking, to indulge in several painful barks, waiting, as dogs will, with eyes shut and nose strained in the air, for the effect of each bark, and consciously enjoyin

rward, holding

trouble here. I did not learn quite clearly what it was, but I t

ring for them; they look hard realities in the face and meet them as they can. They are the true philosophers, and their straightforwardness about grief and disease i

er eyes, "it's my master, sir-Mr. Keighley, sir. The doctor has given him up, and he's only waiting to die. It don't give him

d, "that there's one kind of trembling and fearfulness that we can't get over: he keeps saying that he's afraid to meet his God. He won't say as he's got anything on h

cares to see me," said Arthur. "Has Mr

meet your God; are you at peace with Him? Remember the judgment;' when I can't help thinking that God would be much more pleased if George could forget it. He can't like to see us crawling to meet

he house. There was a bright fire burning; a table spread in a troub

rd work to keep things in order, with George ly

ard it is to keep up heart at all; still it is

something incoherently about leading the way, ushered us through a kitchen and up a short flight of stairs. I w

ll even cheer him up a bit." She pushed the door open just above; I could distinguish the sound of hard breath

is face, which altered very quickly as we came in. Much of his suffering was nervous, so-ca

Mr. Hamilton and his friend come

ul murmur, and p

ering, Mr. Keighley. We heard you were in trouble, so we thoug

"But I'm past doin' anything for now. Doctor's giv'n

ht dyin'. It's hard work-it's terrible hard. It's bad enough by itself, having to go out into the dark-and all alone; but it's full of worse terrors than even that. The air's full of them. When I am lyin' here still, with my eyes shut, prayin' for

ed to swim; I could hardly stand or see. To settle myself, I spoke to the woman about wines and medi

u, better than you have ever loved anyone yourself, waiting the other side of the darkness. Oh, only think of that, and it will not be hard! Dear friend," he said-"for I may call you that-we have all of us the same passage before us, but we have

rds "Suffer us not, for any pains of death, to fall from thee," poor George put out his old withered hand and took Arthur's, and smiled thro

down-stairs, showing, in her troubled officious hurry to anticipate Arthur's wishes,

and said, half apologetically, "We must speak to simple people in the language th