Dr. Weitbrecht-Rotholz
has dealt in such terms with the Rev. Robert Strickland's
innocent biography that it is difficult to avoid
feeling a certain sympathy for the unlucky parson. His decent
reticence is branded as hypocrisy, his circumlocutions are
roundly called lies, and his silence is vilified as treachery.
And on the strength of peccadillos, reprehensible in an
author, but excusable in a son, the Anglo-Saxon race is
accused of prudishness, humbug, pretentiousness, deceit,
cunning, and bad cooking. Personally I think it was rash of
Mr. Strickland, in refuting the account which had gained
belief of a certain "unpleasantness" between his father and
mother, to state that Charles Strickland in a letter written
from Paris had described her as "an excellent woman," since
Dr. Weitbrecht-Rotholz was able to print the letter in
facsimile, and it appears that the passage referred to ran in
fact as follows:
I wish she was in hell.> It is not thus that the Church
in its great days dealt with evidence that was unwelcome.
Dr. Weitbrecht-Rotholz was an enthusiastic admirer of Charles
Strickland, and there was no danger that he would whitewash him.
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