The Moon and Sixpence

Chapter LIII
T
ENEZ
, 
VOILA
LE
C
APITAINE
B
RUNOT
,” said Tiare, one
day when I was fitting together what she could
tell me of Strickland. “He knew Strickland well;
he visited him at his house.”
I saw a middle-aged Frenchman with a big black
beard, streaked with gray, a sunburned face, and
large, shining eyes. He was dressed in a neat
suit of ducks. I had noticed him at luncheon, and
Ah Lin, the Chinese boy, told me he had come
from the Paumotus on the boat that had that
day arrived. Tiare introduced me to him, and he
handed me his card, a large card on which was
printed 
Rene Brunot, and underneath, Capitaine
au Long Cours. We were sitting on a little veran-
dah outside the kitchen, and Tiare was cutting
out a dress that she was making for one of the
girls about the house. He sat down with us.
“ Yes; I knew Strickland well,” he said. “I am
very fond of chess, and he was always glad of a
game. I come to Tahiti three or four times a year
for my business, and when he was at Papeete he
would come here and we would play. When he
married” — Captain Brunot smiled and shrugged
his shoulders —”
enfin, when he went to live with
the girl that Tiare gave him, he asked me to go
and see him. I was one of the guests at the wed-
ding feast.” He looked at Tiare, and they both
laughed. “He did not come much to Papeete af-
ter that, and about a year later it chanced that I
had to go to that part of the island for I forgot
what business, and when I had finished it I said
to myself: `
Voyons, why should I not go and see
that poor Strickland?’ I asked one or two na-
tives if they knew anything about him, and I dis-
covered that he lived not more than five
kilometres from where I was. So I went. I shall
never forget the impression my visit made on
me. I live on an atoll, a low island, it is a strip of
land surrounding a lagoon, and its beauty is the
beauty of the sea and sky and the varied colour

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Somerset Maugham
of the lagoon and the grace of the cocoa-nut trees;
but the place where Strickland lived had the
beauty of the Garden of Eden. Ah, I wish I could
make you see the enchantment of that spot, a
corner hidden away from all the world, with the
blue sky overhead and the rich, luxuriant trees.
It was a feast of colour. And it was fragrant and
cool. Words cannot describe that paradise. And
here he lived, unmindful of the world and by the
world forgotten. I suppose to European eyes it
would have seemed astonishingly sordid. The
house was dilapidated and none too clean. Three
or four natives were lying on the verandah. You
know how natives love to herd together. There
was a young man lying full length, smoking a
cigarette, and he wore nothing but a 
pareo”
The 
pareo is a long strip of trade cotton, red or
blue, stamped with a white pattern. It is worn
round the waist and hangs to the knees.
“A girl of fifteen, perhaps, was plaiting panda-
nus-leaf to make a hat, and an old woman was
sitting on her haunches smoking a pipe. Then I
saw Ata. She was suckling a new-born child, and
another child, stark naked, was playing at her
feet. When she saw me she called out to
Strickland, and he came to the door. He, too, wore
nothing but a 
pareo. He was an extraordinary
figure, with his red beard and matted hair, and
his great hairy chest. His feet were horny and
scarred, so that I knew he went always bare foot.
He had gone native with a vengeance. He seemed
pleased to see me, and told Ata to kill a chicken
for our dinner. He took me into the house to show
me the picture he was at work on when I came
in. In one corner of the room was the bed, and in
the middle was an easel with the canvas upon it.
Because I was sorry for him, I had bought a couple
of his pictures for small sums, and I had sent
others to friends of mine in France. And though
I had bought them out of compassion, after liv-
ing with them I began to like them. Indeed, I
found a strange beauty in them. Everyone

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The Moon and Sixpence
thought I was mad, but it turns out that I was
right. I was his first admirer in the islands.”
He smiled maliciously at Tiare, and with lam-
entations she told us again the story of how at
the sale of Strickland’s effects she had neglected
the pictures, but bought an American stove for
twenty-seven francs.
“Have you the pictures still?” I asked.
“ Yes; I am keeping them till my daughter is of
marriageable age, and then I shall sell them.
They will be her 
dot.” Then he went on with the
account of his visit to Strickland.
“I shall never forget the evening I spent with
him. I had not intended to stay more than an
hour, but he insisted that I should spend the
night. I hesitated, for I confess I did not much
like the look of the mats on which he proposed
that I should sleep; but I shrugged my shoulders.
When I was building my house in the Paumotus
I had slept out for weeks on a harder bed than
that, with nothing to shelter me but wild shrubs;
and as for vermin, my tough skin should be proof
against their malice.
“ We went down to the stream to bathe while
Ata was preparing the dinner, and after we had
eaten it we sat on the verandah. We smoked and
chatted. The young man had a concertina, and
he played the tunes popular on the music-halls a
dozen years before. They sounded strangely in
the tropical night thousands of miles from
civilisation. I asked Strickland if it did not irk
him to live in that promiscuity. No, he said; he
liked to have his models under his hand. Pres-
ently, after loud yawning, the natives went away
to sleep, and Strickland and I were left alone. I
cannot describe to you the intense silence of the
night. On my island in the Paumotus there is
never at night the complete stillness that there
was here. There is the rustle of the myriad ani-
mals on the beach, all the little shelled things
that crawl about ceaselessly, and there is the
noisy scurrying of the land-crabs. Now and then

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Somerset Maugham
in the lagoon you hear the leaping of a fish, and
sometimes a hurried noisy splashing as a brown
shark sends all the other fish scampering for their
lives. And above all, ceaseless like time, is the
dull roar of the breakers on the reef. But here
there was not a sound, and the air was scented
with the white flowers of the night. It was a night
so beautiful that your soul seemed hardly able
to bear the prison of the body. You felt that it
was ready to be wafted away on the immaterial
air, and death bore all the aspect of a beloved
friend.”
Tiare sighed.
“Ah, I wish I were fifteen again.”
Then she caught sight of a cat trying to get at
a dish of prawns on the kitchen table, and with
a dexterous gesture and a lively volley of abuse
flung a book at its scampering tail.
“I asked him if he was happy with Ata.
“`She leaves me alone,’ he said. ‘She cooks
my food and looks after her babies. She does what
I tell her. She gives me what I want from a
woman.’
“`And do you never regret Europe? Do you not
yearn sometimes for the light of the streets in
Paris or London, the companionship of your
friends, and equals, 
que sais-je? for theatres and
newspapers, and the rumble of omnibuses on the
cobbled pavements?’
“For a long time he was silent. Then he said:
“`I shall stay here till I die.’
“`But are you never bored or lonely?’ I asked.
“He chuckled.
“`
Mon pauvre ami,’ he said. `It is evident that
you do not know what it is to be an artist.’”
Capitaine Brunot turned to me with a gentle
smile, and there was a wonderful look in his dark,
kind eyes.
“He did me an injustice, for I too know what it
is to have dreams. I have my visions too. In my
way I also am an artist.”
We were all silent for a while, and Tiare fished

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The Moon and Sixpence
out of her capacious pocket a handful of ciga-
rettes. She handed one to each of us, and we all
three smoked. At last she said:
“Since 
ce monsieur is interested in Strickland,
why do you not take him to see Dr. Coutras? He
can tell him something about his illness and
death.”
“
Volontiers,” said the Captain, looking at me.
I thanked him, and he looked at his watch.
“It is past six o’clock. We should find him at
home if you care to come now. ”
I got up without further ado, and we walked
along the road that led to the doctor’s house.
He lived out of the town, but the Hotel de la Fleur
was on the edge of it, and we were quickly in
the country. The broad road was shaded by pep-
per-trees, and on each side were the plantations,
cocoa-nut and vanilla. The pirate birds were
screeching among the leaves of the palms. We
came to a stone bridge over a shallow river, and
we stopped for a few minutes to see the native
boys bathing. They chased one another with
shrill cries and laughter, and their bodies, brown
and wet, gleamed in the sunlight.