In time I came to see London with my own eyes, but how much better
when I saw it with those of Dickens!'
Tired and discouraged, badly nourished, badly housed--working under
conditions little favourable to play of the fancy or intentness of the
mind--then was the time, Gissing found, to take down Forster and read--read
about Charles Dickens.
'Merely as the narrative of a wonderfully active, zealous, and
successful life, this book scarce has its equal; almost any reader
must find it exhilarating; but to me it yielded such special
sustenance as in those days I could not have found elsewhere, and
lacking which I should, perhaps, have failed by the way. I am not
referring to Dickens's swift triumph, to his resounding fame and high
prosperity; these things are cheery to read about, especially when
shown in a light so human, with the accompaniment of so much geniality
and mirth. No; the pages which invigorated me are those where we see
Dickens at work, alone at his writing-table, absorbed in the task of
the story-teller. Constantly he makes known to Forster how his story
is getting on, speaks in detail of difficulties, rejoices over spells
of happy labour; and what splendid sincerity in it all! If this work
of his was not worth doing, why, nothing was.
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