Maurice Huret in his famous article gave an outline of Charles
Strickland's life which was well calculated to whet the
appetites of the inquiring. With his disinterested passion
for art, he had a real desire to call the attention of the
wise to a talent which was in the highest degree original;
but he was too good a journalist to be unaware that the "human
interest" would enable him more easily to effect his purpose.
And when such as had come in contact with Strickland in the
past, writers who had known him in London, painters who had
met him in the cafes of Montmartre, discovered to their
amazement that where they had seen but an unsuccessful artist,
like another, authentic genius had rubbed shoulders with them
there began to appear in the magazines of France and America a
succession of articles, the reminiscences of one, the
appreciation of another, which added to Strickland's
notoriety, and fed without satisfying the curiosity of
the public. The subject was grateful, and the industrious
Weitbrecht-Rotholz in his imposing monograph[2] has been able
to give a remarkable list of authorities.


[2] "Karl Strickland: sein Leben und seine Kunst," by Hugo
Weitbrecht-Rotholz, Ph.D. Schwingel und Hanisch. Leipzig, 1914.


The faculty for myth is innate in the human race. It seizes
with avidity upon any incidents, surprising or mysterious, in