that there was no question of response at all, and as soon as I
set my heart on drawing something from him in return, and urged
him to confide in me, when he really had nothing to tell, the
connection usually came to an end and left no trace on my life.
In a certain sense my strange relationship with Flachs was
typical of the great majority of my ties in after-life.
Consequently, as no lasting personal bond of friendship ever
found its way into my life, it is easy to understand how delight
in the dissipations of student life could become a passion of
some duration, because in it individual intercourse is entirely
replaced by a common circle of acquaintances. In the midst of
rowdyism and ragging of the most foolish description, I remained
quite alone, and it is quite possible that these frivolities
formed a protecting hedge round my inmost soul, which needed time
to grow to its natural strength and not be weakened by reaching
maturity too soon.

My life seemed to break up in all directions; I had to leave St.
Nicholas's School at Easter 1830, as I was too deeply in disgrace
with the staff of masters ever to hope for any promotion in the
University from that quarter. It was now determined that I should
study privately for six months and then go to St. Thomas's
School, where I should be in fresh surroundings and be able to
work up and qualify in a short time for the University. My uncle
Adolph, with whom I was constantly renewing my friendship, and
who also encouraged me about my music and exercised a good
influence over me in that respect, in spite of the utter
degradation of my life at that time, kept arousing in me an ever
fresh desire for scientific studies. I took private lessons in
Greek from a scholar, and read Sophocles with him. For a time I