a bitter struggle against
every sort of difficulty; but I realised that much which would
have seemed horrible to most people did not in the least
affect him. Strickland was distinguished from most Englishmen
by his perfect indifference to comfort; it did not irk him to
live always in one shabby room; he had no need to be
surrounded by beautiful things. I do not suppose he had ever
noticed how dingy was the paper on the wall of the room in
which on my first visit I found him. He did not want arm-chairs
to sit in; he really felt more at his ease on a kitchen chair.
He ate with appetite, but was indifferent to what he ate;
to him it was only food that he devoured to still the
pangs of hunger; and when no food was to be had he seemed
capable of doing without. I learned that for six months he
had lived on a loaf of bread and a bottle of milk a day.
He was a sensual man, and yet was indifferent to sensual things.
He looked upon privation as no hardship. There was something
impressive in the manner in which he lived a life wholly of
the spirit.

When the small sum of money which he brought with him from
London came to an end he suffered from no dismay. He sold no
pictures; I think he made little attempt to sell any; he set
about finding some way to make a bit of money. He told me
with grim humour of the time he had spent acting as guide to
Cockneys who wanted to see the night side of life in Paris;
it was an occupation that appealed to his sardonic temper and
somehow or other he had acquired a wide acquaintance with the
more disreputable quarters of the city. He told me of the
long hours he spent walking about the Boulevard de la
Madeleine on the look-out for Englishmen, preferably the worse
for liquor, who desired to see things which the law forbade.
When in luck he was able to make a tidy sum; but the
shabbiness of his clothes at last frightened the sight-seers,
and he could not find people adventurous enough to trust
themselves to him. Then he happened on a job to translate the
advertisements of patent medicines which were sent broadcast
to the medical profession in England. During a strike he had
been employed as a house-painter.

Meanwhile he had never ceased to work at his art; but, soon
tiring of the studios, entirely by himself. He had never been
so poor that he could not buy canvas and paint, and really he
needed nothing else. So far as I could make out, he painted
with great difficulty, and in his