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235
The Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft
·
George Gissing
23
Most
men
who
go
through
a
hard
time
in
their
youth
are
supported
by
companionship.
London
has
no
pays
latin,
but
hungry
beginners
in
literature
have
generally
their
suitable
comrades,
garreteers
in
the
Tottenham
Court
Road
district,
or
in
unredeemed
Chelsea;
they
make
their
little
vie
de
Boheme,
and
are
consciously
proud
of
it.
Of
my
position,
the
peculiarity
was
that
I
never
belonged
to
any
cluster;
I
shrank
from
casual
acquaintance,
and,
through
the
grim
years,
had
but
one
friend
with
whom
I
held
converse.
It
was
never
my
instinct
to
look
for
help,
to
seek
favour
for
advancement;
whatever
step
I
gained
was
gained
by
my
own
strength.
Even
as
I
disregarded
favour
so
did
I
scorn
advice;
no
counsel
would
I
ever
take
but
that
of
my
own
brain
and
heart.
More
than
once
I
was
driven
by
necessity
to
beg
from
strangers
the
means
of
earning
bread,
and
this
of
all
my
experiences
was
the
bitterest;
yet
I
think
I
should
have
found
it
worse
still
to
incur
a
debt
to
some
friend
or
comrade.
The
truth
is
that
I
have
never
learnt
to
regard
myself
as
a
"member
of
society."
For
me,
there
have
always
been
two
entities--myself
and
the
world,
and
the
normal
relation
between
these
two
has
been
hostile.
Am
I
not
still
a
lonely
man,
as
far
as
ever
from
forming
part
of
the
social
order?
This,
of
which
I
once
was
scornfully
proud,
seems
to
me
now,
if
not
a
calamity,
something
I
would
not
choose
if
life
were
to
live
again.
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