Chapter VI

by William Somerset Maugham

　　But when at last I met Charles Strickland, it was undercircumstances which allowed me to do no more than just makehis acquaintance. One morning Mrs. Strickland sent me round anote to say that she was giving a dinner-party that evening,and one of her guests had failed her. She asked me to stopthe gap. She wrote:"It's only decent to warn you that you will be bored toextinction. It was a thoroughly dull party from thebeginning, but if you will come I shall be uncommonly grateful.And you and I can have a little chat by ourselves."It was only neighbourly to accept.When Mrs. Strickland introduced me to her husband, he gave mea rather indifferent hand to shake. Turning to him gaily,she attempted a small jest."I asked him to show him that I really had a husband. I thinkhe was beginning to doubt it."Strickland gave the polite little laugh with which peopleacknowledge a facetiousness in which they see nothing funny,but did not speak. New arrivals claimed my host's attention,and I was left to myself. When at last we were all assembled,waiting for dinner to be announced, I reflected, while Ichatted with the woman I had been asked to "take in," thatcivilised man practises a strange ingenuity in wasting ontedious exercises the brief span of his life. It was the kindof party which makes you wonder why the hostess has troubledto bid her guests, and why the guests have troubled to come.There were ten people. They met with indifference, and wouldpart with relief. It was, of course, a purely social function.The Stricklands "owed" dinners to a number of persons,whom they took no interest in, and so had asked them;these persons had accepted. Why? To avoid the tedium ofdining tete-a-tete, to give their servants a rest, becausethere was no reason to refuse, because they were "owed" a dinner.The dining-room was inconveniently crowded. There was a K.C.and his wife, a Government official and his wife,Mrs. Strickland's sister and her husband, Colonel MacAndrew,and the wife of a Member of Parliament. It was because the Memberof Parliament found that he could not leave the House that I hadbeen invited. The respectability of the party was portentous.The women were too nice to be well dressed, andtoo sure of their position to be amusing. The men were solid.There was about all of them an air of well-satisfied prosperity.Everyone talked a little louder than natural in an instinctivedesire to make the party go, and there was a great deal ofnoise in the room. But there was no general conversation.Each one talked to his neighbour; to his neighbour on theright during the soup, fish, and entree; to his neighbour onthe left during the roast, sweet, and savoury. They talked ofthe political situation and of golf, of their children and thelatest play, of the pictures at the Royal Academy, of theweather and their plans for the holidays. There was never apause, and the noise grew louder. Mrs. Strickland mightcongratulate herself that her party was a success.Her husband played his part with decorum. Perhaps he did not talkvery much, and I fancied there was towards the end a look offatigue in the faces of the women on either side of him.They were finding him heavy. Once or twice Mrs. Strickland's eyesrested on him somewhat anxiously.At last she rose and shepherded the ladies out of one room.Strickland shut the door behind her, and, moving to the otherend of the table, took his place between the K.C. and theGovernment official. He passed round the port again andhanded us cigars. The K.C. remarked on the excellence of thewine, and Strickland told us where he got it. We began tochat about vintages and tobacco. The K.C. told us of a casehe was engaged in, and the Colonel talked about polo. I hadnothing to say and so sat silent, trying politely to showinterest in the conversation; and because I thought no one wasin the least concerned with me, examined Strickland at myease. He was bigger than I expected: I do not know why I hadimagined him slender and of insignificant appearance; in pointof fact he was broad and heavy, with large hands and feet, andhe wore his evening clothes clumsily. He gave you somewhatthe idea of a coachman dressed up for the occasion. He was aman of forty, not good-looking, and yet not ugly, for hisfeatures were rather good; but they were all a little largerthan life-size, and the effect was ungainly. He was cleanshaven, and his large face looked uncomfortably naked.His hair was reddish, cut very short, and his eyes were small,blue or grey. He looked commonplace. I no longer wonderedthat Mrs. Strickland felt a certain embarrassment about him;he was scarcely a credit to a woman who wanted to make herselfa position in the world of art and letters. It was obviousthat he had no social gifts, but these a man can do without;he had no eccentricity even, to take him out of the common run;he was just a good, dull, honest, plain man. One wouldadmire his excellent qualities, but avoid his company.He was null. He was probably a worthy member of society, a goodhusband and father, an honest broker; but there was no reasonto waste one's time over him.