The Record of Nicholas Freydon: An AutobiographyDawson, A. J. (Alec John)
General
The Record of Nicholas Freydon: An Autobiography
Dawson, A. J. (Alec John)
Fiction
Here again my qualities were presumably the product of my condition
and circumstances. To be left quite alone in the world while yet a
child, as I had been, does, I apprehend, stimulate a certain worldly
prudence in regard, at all events, to so obvious a matter as the
balance of income and expenditure. I felt that if I were ever stranded
and penniless there would be no one in the whole world to lend me a
helping hand, or to save me from being cut adrift from all that I had
come to hold precious, and flung back into the slough of manual
labour--for that, curiously enough, is how I then regarded it. Not, of
course, that I had found manual work in itself unpleasant in any way;
but that I then considered my escape from it had carried me into a
social and mental atmosphere superior to that which the manual worker
could reach.
Except when he was absent from Sydney, Mr. Rawlence always received
his friends at the Macquarie Street studio on Sundays, and none was
more regular in attendance than myself. It would be very easy, of
course, to be sarcastic at Mr. Rawlence's expense; to poke fun at the
well-to-do gentleman approaching middle age, who clung to the pretence
of being a working artist, and to avoid criticism, or because more
mature workers would not seek his society, liked to surround himself
with neophytes--a Triton among minnows. And indeed, as I found, there
were those--some old enough to know better, and others young enough to
be more generous--who were not above adopting this attitude even
whilst enjoying their victim's hospitality; aye, and enjoying it
greedily.
But neither then nor at any subsequent period was I tempted to
ridicule a man uniformly kind and helpful to me; and this, not at all
because I blinded myself to his weaknesses and imperfections, but
because I found, and still find, these easily outweighed by his good
and genuinely kindly qualities. His may not have been a very dignified
way of life; it was too full of affectations for that; particularly
after he began to be greatly influenced by the rather sickly aesthetic
movement then in vogue in London. But it was, at least, a harmless
life; and, upon the whole, a generous and kindly one.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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