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Strickland； and there was no danger that he would whitewash him。 He had
an unerring eye for the despicable motive in actions that had all the
appearance of innocence。 He was a psycho…pathologist； as well as a
student of art； and the subconscious had few secrets from him。 No
mystic ever saw deeper meaning in common things。 The mystic sees the
ineffable； and the psycho…pathologist the unspeakable。 There is a singular
fascination in watching the eagerness with which the learned author ferrets
out every circumstance which may throw discredit on his hero。 His heart
warms to him when he can bring forward some example of cruelty or
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meanness； and he exults like an inquisitor at the of an
heretic when with some forgotten story he can confound the filial piety of
the Rev。 Robert Strickland。 His industry has been amazing。 Nothing has
been too small to escape him； and you may be sure that if Charles
Strickland left a laundry bill unpaid it will be given you ；
and if he forebore to return a borrowed half…crown no detail of the
transaction will be omitted。
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Chapter II
When so much has been written about Charles Strickland； it may seem
unnecessary that I should write more。 A painter's monument is his work。
It is true I knew him more intimately than most： I met him first before
ever he became a painter； and I saw him not infrequently during the
difficult years he spent in Paris； but I do not suppose I should ever have
set down my recollections if the hazards of the war had not taken me to
Tahiti。 There； as is notorious； he spent the last years of his life； and there
I came across persons who were familiar with him。 I find myself in a
position to throw light on just that part of his tragic career which has
remained most obscure。 If they who believe in Strickland's greatness are
right； the personal narratives of such as knew him in the flesh can hardly
be superfluous。 What would we not give for the reminiscences of
someone who had been as intimately acquainted with El Greco as I was
with Strickland？
But I seek refuge in no such excuses。 I forget who it was that
recommended men for their soul's good to do each day two things they
disliked： it was a wise man； and it is a precept that I have followed
scrupulously； for every day I have got up and I have gone to bed。 But
there is in my nature a strain of asceticism； and I have subjected my flesh
each week to a more severe mortification。 I have never failed to read the
Literary Supplement of 。 It is a salutary discipline to
consider the vast number of books that are written； the fair hopes with
which their authors see them published； and the fate which awaits them。
What chance is there that any book will make its way among that
multitude？ And the successful books are but the successes of a season。
Heaven knows what pains the author has been at； what bitter experiences
he has endured and what heartache suffered； to give some chance reader a
few hours' relaxation or to while away the tedium of a journey。 And if I
may judge from the reviews； many of these books are well and carefully
written； much thought has gone to their composition； to some even has
been given the anxious labour of a lifetime。 The moral I draw is that the
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writer should seek his reward in the pleasure of his work and in release
from the burden of his thought； and； indifferent to aught else； care nothing
for praise or censure； failure or success。
Now the war has come； bringing with it a new attitude。 Youth has
turned to gods we of an earlier day knew not； and it is possible to see
already the direction in which those who come after us will move。 The
younger generation； conscious of strength and tumultuous； have done with
knocking at the door； they have burst in and seated themselves in our seats。
The air is noisy with their shouts。 Of their elders some； by imitating the
antics of youth； strive to persuade themselves that their day is not yet over；
they shout with the lustiest； but the war cry sounds hollow in their mouth；
they are like poor wantons attempting with pencil； paint and powder； with
shrill gaiety； to recover the illusion of their spring。 The wiser go their way
with a decent grace。 In their chastened smile is an indulgent mockery。
They remember that they too trod down a sated generation； with just such
clamor and with just such scorn； and they foresee that these brave torch…
bearers will presently yield their place also。 There is no last word。 The
new evangel was old when Nineveh reared her greatness to the sky。
These gallant words which seem so novel to those that speak them were
said in accents scarcely changed a hundred times before。 The pendulum
swings backwards and forwards。 The circle is ever travelled anew。
Sometimes a man survives a considerable time from an era in which
he had his place into one which is strange to him； and then the curious are
offered one of the most singular spectacles in the human comedy。 Who
now； for example； thinks of George Crabbe？ He was a famous poet in
his day； and the world recognised his genius with a unanimity which the
greater complexity of modern life has rendered infrequent。 He had learnt
his craft at the school of Alexander Pope； and he wrote moral stories in
rhymed couplets。 Then came the French Revolution and the Napoleonic
Wars； and the poets sang new songs。 Mr。 Crabbe continued to write moral
stories in rhymed couplets。 I think he must have read the verse of these
young men who were making so great a stir in the world； and I fancy he
found it poor stuff。 Of course； much of it was。 But the