Moon and Sixpence - LightNovelsOnl.com
You're reading novel online at LightNovelsOnl.com. Please use the follow button to get notifications about your favorite novels and its latest chapters so you can come back anytime and won't miss anything.
"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 -- ", 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 wedding feast." He looked at Tiare, and they both laughed. "He did not come much to Papeete after 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: ', why should I not go and see that poor Strickland?' I asked one or two natives if they knew anything about him, and I discovered 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 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 astonis.h.i.+ngly 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 ."
The 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.n.u.s-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 .
He was an extraordinary figure, with his red beard and matted hair, and his great hairy chest. His feet were h.o.r.n.y 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 compa.s.sion, after living with them I began to like them. Indeed, I found a strange beauty in them.
Everyone 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 lamentations 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 ."
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. Presently, 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 animals on the beach, all the little sh.e.l.led things that crawl about ceaselessly, and there is the noisy scurrying of the land-crabs. Now and then in the lagoon you hear the leaping of a fish, and sometimes a hurried noisy splas.h.i.+ng 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 companions.h.i.+p of your friends, and equals, 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.
"',' 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 out of her capacious pocket a handful of cigarettes. She handed one to each of us, and we all three smoked. At last she said:
"Since is interested in Strickland, why do you not take him to see Dr. Coutras? He can tell him something about his illness and death."
"," 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 pepper-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.
Chapter LIV
As we walked along I reflected on a circ.u.mstance which all that I had lately heard about Strickland forced on my attention.
Here, on this remote island, he seemed to have aroused none of the detestation with which he was regarded at home, but compa.s.sion rather; and his vagaries were accepted with tolerance. To these people, native and European, he was a queer fish, but they were used to queer fish, and they took him for granted; the world was full of odd persons, who did odd things; and perhaps they knew that a man is not what he wants to be, but what he must be. In England and France he was the square peg in the round hole, but here the holes were any sort of shape, and no sort of peg was quite amiss.
I do not think he was any gentler here, less selfish or less brutal, but the circ.u.mstances were more favourable. If he had spent his life amid these surroundings he might have pa.s.sed for no worse a man than another. He received here what he neither expected nor wanted among his own people -- sympathy.
I tried to tell Captain Brunot something of the astonishment with which this filled me, and for a little while he did not answer.
"It is not strange that I, at all events, should have had sympathy for him," he said at last, "for, though perhaps neither of us knew it, we were both aiming at the same thing."
"What on earth can it be that two people so dissimilar as you and Strickland could aim at?" I asked, smiling.
"Beauty."
"A large order," I murmured.
"Do you know how men can be so obsessed by love that they are deaf and blind to everything else in the world? They are as little their own masters as the slaves chained to the benches of a galley. The pa.s.sion that held Strickland in bondage was no less tyrannical than love."
"How strange that you should say that!" I answered. "For long ago I had the idea that he was possessed of a devil."
"And the pa.s.sion that held Strickland was a pa.s.sion to create beauty. It gave him no peace. It urged him hither and thither. He was eternally a pilgrim, haunted by a divine nostalgia, and the demon within him was ruthless. There are men whose desire for truth is so great that to attain it they will shatter the very foundation of their world. Of such was Strickland, only beauty with him took the place of truth.
I could only feel for him a profound compa.s.sion."
"That is strange also. A man whom he had deeply wronged told me that he felt a great pity for him." I was silent for a moment.
"I wonder if there you have found the explanation of a character which has always seemed to me inexplicable.