instrumental in passing the copyright act. He had travelled in Greece
and Italy in his twenties; was fond of society, and society of him. A
more urbane and attractive English gentleman did not exist; everything
that a civilized man could care for was at his disposal, and he made the
most of his opportunities. His manners were quiet and cordial, with a
touch of romance and poetry mingling with the man-of-the-world tone in
his conversation, and he was quite an emotional man. I have more than
once seen tears in his eyes and heard a sob in his voice when matters
that touched his heart or imagination were discussed. There was, indeed,
a vein of sadness and pessimism in Milnes, though only his intimates
were aware of it; it was the pessimism of a man who has too much leisure
for intellectual analysis and not enough actual work to do to keep him
occupied. It lent a fine flavor of irony to some of his conversation.
He was liberal in politics and liberal in his attitude towards life in
general; but there was not force enough in him, or, at any rate, not
stimulus enough, to lift him to distinction. Some of his poems, however,
betrayed a deep and radical vein of thought. He was of middle height,
well made, light built, with a large and well-formed head and wavy, dark
hair. His likeness to Longfellow was marked, though he was hardly so
handsome a man; but the type of head and face was the same--the forehead
and brain well developed, the lower parts of the countenance small and
refined, though sensuous. His eyes were dark, brilliant, and expressive.
He, like the old poet Rogers, made a feature of giving breakfasts to
chosen friends, and as he had the whole social world to choose from,
and unfailing good taste, his breakfasts were well worth attending. They
were real breakfasts--so far as the hour was concerned--not lunches or
early dinners in masquerade; but wine was served at them, and Milnes
was very hospitable and had an Anacreontic or Omar touch in him.
To breakfast with him, therefore, meant--unless you were singularly
abstemious and strong-minded--to discount the remaining meals of the
day. But the amount of good cheer that an Englishman can carry and seem
not obscured by it surprises an American. A bottle or so of hock of a
morning will make most Americans feel that business, for the rest of
that day, is an iridescent dream; but an Englishman does not seem to be
burdened by it--at any rate, he did not fifty years ago.

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