diff options
| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-06 01:15:34 -0800 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-06 01:15:34 -0800 |
| commit | d2582d94e1499bf6c79873af13f09e269710b2a0 (patch) | |
| tree | dacd402b3b617508e55f173187b1ca6187d68dc4 | |
| parent | 6da98f5a023bd26e75f2caa68b7dd70ed79af0b0 (diff) | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52453-0.txt | 2421 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52453-0.zip | bin | 54732 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52453-8.txt | 2420 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52453-8.zip | bin | 54495 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52453-h.zip | bin | 756732 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52453-h/52453-h.htm | 3006 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52453-h/images/0001.jpg | bin | 63973 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52453-h/images/0008.jpg | bin | 422037 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52453-h/images/0009.jpg | bin | 148025 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52453-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 63973 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52453-h/images/enlarge.jpg | bin | 789 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/old/52453-h.htm.2021-01-24 | 3005 |
15 files changed, 17 insertions, 10852 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3a3ceca --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #52453 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/52453) diff --git a/old/52453-0.txt b/old/52453-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8f371de..0000000 --- a/old/52453-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2421 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Joseph Conrad, by Hugh Walpole - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you’ll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Joseph Conrad - -Author: Hugh Walpole - -Release Date: June 30, 2016 [EBook #52453] -Last Updated: November 20, 2016 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOSEPH CONRAD *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - - - - -JOSEPH CONRAD - -By Hugh Walpole - -New York - -Henry Holt And Company - -1916 - -[Illustration: 0001] - -[Illustration: 0008] - -[Illustration: 0009] - -TO - -SIR SIDNEY COLVIN - - - - -I--BIOGRAPHY - - -I - - -|TO any{001} reader of the books of Joseph Conrad it must be at once -plain that his immediate experiences and impressions of life have gone -very directly to the making of his art. It may happen often enough that -an author’s artistic life is of no importance to the critic and that -his dealing with it is merely a personal impertinence and curiosity, but -with the life of Joseph Conrad the critic has something to do, because, -again and again, this writer deliberately evokes the power of personal -reminiscence, charging it with the burden of his philosophy and the -creation of his characters. - -With the details of his life we cannot, in any way, be concerned, but -with the three backgrounds against whose form and colour {008}his art -has been placed we have some compulsory connection. - -Joseph Conrad (Teodor Josef Konrad Karzeriowski) was born on 6th -December 1857, and his birthplace was the Ukraine in the south of -Poland. In 1862 his father, who had been concerned in the last Polish -rebellion, was banished to Vologda. The boy lived with his mother -and father there until his mother died, when he was sent back to the -Ukraine. In 1870 his lather died. - -Conrad was then sent to school in Cracow and there he remained until -1874, when, following an absolutely compelling impulse, he went to sea. -In the month of May, 1878, he first landed on English ground; he knew -at that time no English but learnt rapidly, and in the autumn of 1878 -joined the _Duke of Sutherland_ as ordinary seaman. He became a -Master in the English Merchant Service in 1884, in which year he was -naturalised. In 1894 he left the sea, whose servant he had been for -nearly twenty years: he sent the manuscript of a novel that he had been -writing at various periods during {009}his sea life to Mr Fisher Unwin. -With that publisher’s acceptance of _Almayer’s Folly_ the third period -of his life began. Since then his history has been the history of his -books. - -Looking for an instant at the dramatic contrast and almost ironical -relationship of these three backgrounds--Poland, the Sea, the inner -security and tradition of an English country-side--one can realise what -they may make of an artist. That early Polish atmosphere, viewed through -all the deep light and high shade of a remembered childhood, may be -enough to give life and vigour to any poet’s temperament. The romantic -melancholy born of early years in such an atmosphere might well plant -deeply in any soul the ironic contemplation of an impossible freedom. - -Growing into youth in a land whose farthest bounds were held by unlawful -tyranny, Conrad may well have contemplated the sea as the one unlimited -monarchy of freedom and, even although he were too young to realise what -impulses {010}those were that drove him, he may have felt that space and -size and the force of a power stronger than man were the only conditions -of possible liberty. He sought those conditions, found them and clung to -them; he found, too, an ironic pity for men who could still live slaves -and prisoners to other men when to them also such freedom was possible. -That ironic pity he never afterwards lost, and the romance that was in -him received a mighty impulse from that contrast that he was always now -to contemplate. He discovered the Sea and paid to her at once his debt -of gratitude and obedience. He thought it no hard thing to obey her when -he might, at the same time, so honestly admire her and she has remained -for him, as an artist, the only personality that he has been able -wholeheartedly to admire. He found in her something stronger than man -and he must have triumphed in the contemplation of the dominion that she -could exercise, if she would, over the tyrannies that he had known in -his childhood. {011}He found, too, in her service, the type of man -who, most strongly, appealed to him. He had known a world composed of -threats, fugitive rebellions, wild outbursts of defiance, inefficient -struggles against tyranny, he was in the company now of those who -realised so completely the relationship of themselves and their duty to -their master and their service that there was simply nothing to be said -about it. England had, perhaps, long ago called to him with her promise -of freedom, and now on an English ship he realised the practice and -performance of that freedom, indulged in, as it was, with the fewest -possible words. Moreover, with his fund of romantic imagination, he must -have been pleased by the contrast of his present company, men who, by -sheer lack of imagination, ruled and served the most imaginative force -in nature. The wonders of the sea, by day and by night, were unnoticed -by his companions, and he admired their lack of vision. Too much vision -had driven his country under the heel of Tyranny, had bred in himself a -despair of {012}any possible freedom for far-seeing men; now he was a -citizen of a world where freedom reigned because men could not perceive -how it could be otherwise; the two sides of the shield were revealed to -him. - -Then, towards the end of his twenty years’ service of the sea, the -creative impulse in him demanded an outlet. He wrote, at stray moments -of opportunity during several years, a novel, wrote it for his pleasure -and diversion, sent it finally to a publisher with all that lack of -confidence in posts and publishers that every author, who cares for -his creations, will feel to the end of his days. He has said that if -_Almayer’s Folly_ had been refused he would never have written again, -but we may well believe that, let the fate of that book be what it -might, the energy and surprise of his discovery of the sea must -have been declared to the world. _Almayer’s Folly_, however, was not -rejected; its publication caused _The Spectator_ to remark: “The name of -Mr Conrad is new to us, but it appears to us as if he might become the -Kipling of the Malay Archipelago.” He {013}had, therefore, encouragement -of the most dignified kind from the beginning. He himself, however, may -have possibly regarded that day in 1897 when Henley accepted _The Nigger -of the Narcissus_ for _The New Review_ as a more important date in his -new career. That date may serve for the commencement of the third period -of his adventure. - -The quiet atmosphere of the England that he had adopted made the final, -almost inevitable contrast with the earlier periods. With such a country -behind him it was possible for him to contemplate in peace the whole -“case” of his earlier life. It was as a “case” that he saw it, a “case” - that was to produce all those other “cases” that were his books. This -has been their history. - -II - -His books, also, find naturally a division into three parts; the first -period, beginning with _Almayer’s Folly_ in 1895, ended with _Lord -Jim_ in 1900. The second contains {014}the two volumes of _Youth_ and -_Typhoon_, the novel _Romance_ that he wrote in collaboration with Ford -Madox Hueffer, and ends with _Nostromo_, published in 1903. The third -period begins, after a long pause, in 1907 with _The Secret Agent_, and -receives its climax with the remarkable popularity of _Chance_ in 1914, -and _Victory_ (1915). - -His first period was a period of struggle, struggle with a foreign -language, struggle with a technique that was always, from the point of -view of the “schools,” to remain too strong for him, struggles with the -very force and power of his reminiscences that were urging themselves -upon him, now at the moment of their contemplated freedom, like wild -beasts behind iron bars. _Almayer’s Folly_ and _The Outcast of the -Islands_ (the first of these is sequel to the second) were remarkable in -the freshness of their discovery of a new world. It was not that their -world had not been found before, but rather that Conrad, by the force of -his own individual discovery, proclaimed his find with a new voice and -a new vigour. In the {015}character of Almayer, of Aissa, of Willems, of -Bahalatchi and Abdulla there was a new psychology that gave promise of -great things. Nevertheless these early stories were overcharged with -atmosphere, were clumsy in their development and conveyed in then style -a sense of rhetoric and lack of ease. His vision of his background was -pulled out beyond its natural intensity and his own desire to make -it overwhelming was so obvious as to frighten the creature into a -determination to be, simply out of malicious perversity, anything else. - -These two novels were followed by a volume of short stories, _Tales of -Unrest_, that reveal, quite nakedly, Conrad’s difficulties. One study in -this book, _The Return_, with its redundancies and overemphasis, is the -crudest parody on its author and no single tale in the volume succeeds. -It was, however, as though, with these efforts, Conrad flung himself -free, for ever, from his apprenticeship; there appeared in 1898 -what remains perhaps still his most perfect work, _The Nigger of the -Narcissus_. This {015}was a story entirely of the sea, of the voyage of -a ship from port to port and of the influence upon that ship and upon -the human souls that she contained, of the approaching shadow of death, -an influence ironical, melancholy, never quite horrible, and always -tender and humorous. Conrad must himself have loved, beyond all other -vessels, the _Narcissus_. Never again, except perhaps in _The Mirror of -the Sea_, was he to be so happily at his ease with any of his subjects. -The book is a gallery of remarkably distinct and authentic portraits, -the atmosphere is held in perfect restraint, and the overhanging theme -is never, for an instant, abandoned. It is, above all, a record of -lovingly cherished reminiscence. Of cherished reminiscence also was the -book that closed the first period of his work, _Lord Jim_. This was to -remain, until the publication of _Chance_, his most popular novel. It -is the story of a young Englishman’s loss of honour in a moment of panic -and his victorious recovery. The first half of the book is a finely -sustained development of a {016}vividly remembered scene, the second -half has the inevitability of a moral idea pursued to its romantic end -rather than the inevitability of life. Here then in 1900 Conrad had -worked himself free of the underground of the jungle and was able to -choose his path. His choice was still dictated by the subjects that -he remembered most vividly, but upon these rewards of observation his -creative genius was working. James Wait, Donkin, Jim, Marlowe were men -whom he had known, but men also to whom he had given a new birth. - -There appeared now in _Youth, Heart of Darkness_ and _Typhoon_ three of -the finest short stories in the English language, work of reminiscence, -but glowing at its heart with all the lyrical exultation and flame of -a passion that had been the ruling power of a life that was now to be -abandoned. That salutation of farewell is in _Youth_ and its evocation -of the East, in _The Heart of Darkness_ and its evocation of the forests -that are beyond civilisation, in _Typhoon_ and its evocation of the -sea. He was never, after {018}these tales, to write again of the sea -as though he were still sailing on it. From this time he belonged, with -regret, and with some ironic contempt, to the land. - -This second period closed with the production of a work that was -deliberately created rather than reminiscent, _Nostromo_. Conrad may -have known Dr Monyngham, Decoud, Mrs Could, old Viola; but; they became -stronger than he and, in their completed personalities, owed no man -anything for their creation. There is much to be said about _Nostromo_, -in many ways the greatest of all Conrad’s works, but, for the moment, -one would only say that its appearance (it appeared first, of all -ironical births, in a journal--_T.P.’s Weekly_--and astonished and -bewildered its readers week by week, by its determination not to finish -and yield place to something simpler) caused no comment whatever, that -its critics did not understand it, and its author’s own admirers were -puzzled by its unlikeness to the earlier sea stories. - -_Nostromo_ was followed by a pause--one {019}can easily imagine that -its production did, for a moment, utterly exhaust its creator. When, -however, in 1907 appeared _The Secret Agent_, a new attitude was most -plainly visible. He was suddenly detached, writing now of “cases” that -interested him as an investigator of human life, but called from his -heart no burning participation of experience. He is tender towards -Winnie Verloc and her old mother, the two women in _The Secret Agent_, -but he studies them quite dispassionately. That love that clothed Jim -so radiantly, that fierce contempt that in _An Outcast of the Islands_ -accompanied Willems to his degraded death, is gone. We have the finer -artist, but we have lost something of that earlier compelling interest. -_The Secret Agent_ is a tale of secret service in London; it contains -the wonderfully created figure of Verloc and it expresses, to the full, -Conrad’s hatred of those rows and rows of bricks and mortar that are so -completely accepted by unimaginative men. In 1911 _Under Western Eyes_ -spoke strongly of a Russian influence {020}Turgéniev and Dostoievsky had -too markedly their share in the creation of Razumov and the cosmopolitan -circle in Geneva. Moreover, it is a book whose heart is cold. - -A volume of short stories, _A Set of Six_, illustrating still more -emphatically Conrad’s new detachment, appeared in 1908 and is remarkable -chiefly for an ironically humorous story of the Napoleonic wars--_The -Duel_--a tale too long, perhaps, but admirable for its sustained note. -In 1912 he seemed, in another volume, _‘Twixt Land and Sea_, to unite -some of his earlier glow with all his later mastery of his method. _A -Smile, of Fortune_ and _The Secret Sharer_ are amazing in the beauty of -retrospect that they leave behind them in the soul of the reader. The -sea is once more revealed to us, but it is revealed now as something -that Conrad has conquered. His contact with the land has taken from him -something of his earlier intimacy with his old mistress. Nevertheless -_The Secret Sharer_ is a most marvellous story, marvellous in its -completeness of theme and treatment, marvellous in the {021}contrast -between the confined limitations of its stage and the vast implications -of its moral idea. Finally in 1914 appeared _Chance_, by no means the -finest of his books, but catching the attention and admiration of that -wider audience who had remained indifferent to the force and beauty of -_The Nigger of the Narcissus_, of _Lord Jim_, of _Nostromo_. With the -popular success of _Chance_ the first period of his work is closed. On -the possible results of that popularity, their effect on the artist -and on the whole world of men, one must offer, here at any rate, no -prophecy. - -III - -To any reader who cares, seriously, to study the art of Joseph Conrad, -no better advice could be offered than that he should begin with the -reading of the two volumes that have been omitted from the preceding -list. _Some Reminiscences_ and _The Mirror of the Sea_ demand -consideration on the threshold of any survey of this author’s work, -because {022}they reveal, from a personal, wilful and completely -anarchistic angle, the individuality that can only be discovered, -afterwards, objectively, in the process of creation. - -In both these books Conrad is, quite simply, himself for anyone who -cares to read. They are books dictated by no sense of precedent nor form -nor fashion. They are books of their own kind, even more than are the -novels. _Some Reminiscences_ has only _Tristram Shandy_ for its rival in -the business of getting everything done without moving a step forward. -_The Mirror of the Sea_ has no rival at all. - -We may suppose that the author did really intend to write his -reminiscences when he began. He found a moment that would make, a good -starting-point, a moment in the writing of his first book, _Almayer’s -Folly_, at the conclusion or, more truly, cessation of _Some -Reminiscences_, that moment is still hanging in mid-air, the writing -of _Almayer_ has not proceeded two lines farther down the stage, the -maid-servant, is still standing in the doorway, the hands of {023}the -clock have covered five minutes of the dial. What has occurred is simply -that the fascination of the subject has been too strong. It is of the -very essence of Conrad’s art that one thing so powerfully suggests to -him another that to start him on anything at all is a tragedy, because -life is so short. His reminiscences would be easy enough to command -would they only not take on a life of their own and shout at their -unfortunate author: “Ah! yes. I’m interesting, of course, but don’t you -remember...?” - -The whole adventure of writing his first book is crowded with incident, -not because he considers it a wonderful book or himself a marvellous -figure, but simply because any incident in the world must, in his eyes, -be crowded about with other incidents. There is the pen one wrote the -book with, that pen that belonged to poor old Captain B-------- of the -_Nonsuch_ who... or there is the window just behind the writing-table -that looked out into the river, that river that reminds one of the -year ‘88 when... - -In the course of his thrilling voyage of {024}discovery we are, by a -kind of most blessed miracle, told something of Mr Nicholas B. and of -the author’s own most fascinating uncle. We even, by an extension of the -miracle, learn something of Conrad as ship’s officer (this the merest -glimpse) and as a visitor to his uncle’s house in Poland. - -So by chance are these miraculous facts and glimpses that we catch at -them with eager, extended hands, praying, imploring them to stay; indeed -those glimpses may seem to us the more wonderful in that they have been, -by us, only partially realised. - -Nevertheless, in spite of its eager incoherence, at the same time both -breathless, and, by the virtue of its author’s style, solemn, we do -obtain, in addition to our glimpses of Poland and the sea, one or two -revelations of Conrad himself. Our revelations come to us partly through -our impression of his own zest for life, a zest always ironical, -often sceptical, but always eager and driven by a throbbing impulse of -vitality. Partly also through certain deliberate utterances. He tells -us: {025} “Those who read me know my conviction that the world, the -temporal world, rests on a few very simple ideas; so simple that they -must be as old as the hills. It rests, notably, amongst others, on the -idea of Fidelity. At a time when nothing which is not revolutionary in -some way or other can expect to attract much attention I have not been -revolutionary in my writings.” (Page 20.) - -Or again: - -“All claim to special righteousness awakens in me that scorn and anger -from which a philosophical mind should be free.” (Page 21.) - -Or again: - -“Even before the most seductive reveries I have remained mindful of that -sobriety of interior life, that asceticism of sentiment, in which alone -the naked form of truth, such as one conceives it, such as one feels it, -can be rendered without shame.” (Page 194.) - -This simplicity, this fidelity, this hatred of self-assertion and -self-satisfaction, this sobriety--these qualities do give some -implication of the colour of the work that will {026}arise from them; -and when to these qualities we add that before-mentioned zest and -vigour we must have some true conception of the nature of the work that -he was to do. - -It is for this that _Some Reminiscences_ is valuable. To read it as a -detached work, to expect from it the amiable facetiousness of a book -of modern memories or the heavy authoritative coherence of the _My -Autobiography_ or _My Life_ of some eminent scientist or theologian, is -to be most grievously disappointed. - -If the beginning is bewilderment the end is an impression of crowding, -disordered life, of a tapestry richly dark, with figures woven into the -very thread of it and yet starting to life with an individuality all -their own. No book reveals more clearly the reasons both of Conrad’s -faults and of his merits. No book of his is more likely by reason of its -honesty and simplicity to win him true friends. As a work of art there -is almost everything to be said against it, except that it has that -supreme gift that remains, at the end, almost all that we ask of any -work of {027}art, overwhelming vitality. But it is formless, ragged, -incoherent, inconclusive, a fragment of eager, vivid, turbulent -reminiscence poured into a friend’s ear in a moment of sudden -confidence. That may or may not be the best way to conduct -reminiscences; the book remains a supremely intimate, engaging and -enlightening introduction to its author. - -With _The Mirror of the Sea_ we are on very different ground. As I have -already said, this is Conrad’s happiest book--indeed, with the possible -exception of _The Nigger of the Narcissus_, his only happy book. He -is happy because he is able, for a moment, to forget his distrust, his -dread, his inherent ironical pessimism. He is here permitting himself -the whole range of his enthusiasm and admiration, and behind that -enthusiasm there is a quiet, sure confidence that is strangely at -variance with the distrust of his later novels. - -The book seems at first sight to be a collection of almost haphazard -papers, with such titles as _Landfalls and Departures_, {028}_Overdue -and Missing, Rulers of East and West, The Nursery of the Craft_. -No reader however, can conclude it without having conveyed to him a -strangely binding impression of Unity. He has been led, it will seem to -him, mto the very heart of the company of those who know the Sea as she -really is, he has been made free of a great order. - -The foundation of his intimacy springs from three sources--the majesty, -power and cruelty of the Sea herself, the homely reality of the lives of -the men who serve her, the vibrating, beautiful life of the ships that -sail upon her. This is the Trilogy that holds in its hands the whole life -and pageant of the sea; it is because Conrad holds all three elements in -exact and perfect balance that this book has its unique value, its power -both of realism, for this is the life of man, and of romance, which is -the life of the sea. - -Conrad’s attitude to the Sea herself, in this book, is one of lyrical -and passionate worship. He sees, with all the vivid accuracy of his -realism, her deceits, her {029}cruelties, her inhuman disregard of the -lives of men, but, finally, her glory is enough for him. He will write -of her like this: - -“The sea--this truth must be confessed--has no generosity. No display of -manly qualities--courage, hardihood, endurance, faithfulness--has ever -been known to touch its irresponsible consciousness of power. The ocean -has the conscienceless temper of a savage autocrat spoiled by much -adulation. He cannot brook the slightest appearance of defiance, and has -remained the irreconcilable enemy of ships and men ever since ships and -men had the unheard-of audacity to go afloat together in the face of -his frown... the most amazing wonder of the deep is its unfathomable -cruelty.” - -Nevertheless she holds him her most willing slave and he is that because -he believes that she alone in all the world is worthy to indulge this -cruelty. She positively “brings it off,” this assertion of her right, -and once he is assured of that, he will yield absolute obedience. In -this worship of the Sea and the winds that rouse her he allows himself -a {030}lyrical freedom that he was afterwards to check. He was never -again, not even in _Typhoon_ and _Youth_, to write with such free and -spontaneous lyricism as in his famous passage about the “West Wind.” - -_The Mirror of the Sea_ forms then the best possible introduction -to Conrad’s work, because it attests, more magnificently and more -confidently than anything else that he has written, his faith and his -devotion. It presents also, however, in its treatment of the second -element of his subject, the men on the ships, many early sketches of the -characters whom he, both before and afterwards, developed so fully in -his novels. About these same men there are certain characteristics to -be noticed, characteristics that must be treated more fully in a later -analysis of Conrad’s creative power, but that nevertheless demand some -mention here as witnesses of the emotions, the humours, the passions -that he, most naturally, observes. It is, in the first place, to -be marked that almost all the men upon the sea, from “poor Captain -B--------, who used {031}to suffer from sick headaches, in his young -days, every time he was approaching a coast,” to the dramatic Dominic -(“from the slow, imperturbable gravity of that broad-chested man -you would think he had never smiled in his life”), are silent and -thoughtful. Granted this silence, Conrad in his half-mournful, -half-humorous survey, is instantly attracted by any possible contrast. -Captain B------- dying in his home, with two grave, elderly women -sitting beside him in the quiet room, “his eyes resting fondly upon the -faces in the room, upon the pictures on the wall, upon all the familiar -objects of that home whose abiding and clear image must have flashed -often on his memory in times of stress and anxiety at sea”--“poor -P--------,” with “his cheery temper, his admiration for the jokes in -_Punch_, his little oddities--like his strange passion for borrowing -looking-glasses, for instance”--that captain who “did everything with an -air which put your attention on the alert and raised your expectations, -but the result somehow was always on stereotyped {032}lines, -unsuggestive, empty of any lesson that one could lay to heart”--that -other captain in whom “through a touch of self-seeking that modest -artist of solid merit became untrue to his temperament”--here are little -sketches for those portraits that afterwards we are to know so well, -Marlowe, Captain M’Whirr, Captain Lingard, Captain Mitchell and many -others. Here we may fancy that his eye lingers as though in the mere -enumeration of little oddities and contrasted qualities he sees such -themes, such subjects, such “cases” that it is hard, almost beyond -discipline, to leave them. Nevertheless they have to be left. He has -obtained his broader contrast by his juxtaposition of the curious -muddled jumble of the human life against the broad, august power of the -Sea--that is all that his present subject demands, that is his theme and -his picture. - -Not all his theme, however; there remains the third element in it, the -soul of the ship. It is, perhaps, after all, with the life of the ship -that _The Mirror of The Sea_, ultimately, has most to do. {033}As other -men write of the woman they have loved, so does Conrad write of his -ships. He sees them, in this book that is so especially dedicated -to their pride and beauty, coloured with a fine glow of romance, -but nevertheless he realises them with all the accurate detail of a -technician who describes his craft. You may learn of the raising and -letting go of an anchor, and he will tell the journalists of their -crime in speaking of “casting” an anchor when the true technicality is -“brought up”--“to an anchor” understood. In the chapter on “Yachts” he -provides as much technical detail as any book of instruction need demand -and then suddenly there come these sentences--“the art of handling -slips is finer, perhaps, than the art of handling men.”... “A ship is a -creature which we have brought into the world, as it were on purpose to -keep us up to mark.” - -Indeed it is the ship that gives that final impression of unity, of -which I have already spoken, to the book. She grows, as it were, from -her birth, in no ordered sequence of {034}events, but admitting us ever -more closely into her intimacy, telling us, at first shyly, afterwards -more boldly, little things about herself, confiding to us her trials, -appealing sometimes to our admiration, indulging sometimes our humour. -Conrad is tender to her as he is to nothing human. He watches her shy, -new, in the dock, “her reputation all to make yet in the talk of the -seamen who were to share their life with her.”... “She looked modest to -me. I imagined her diffident, lying very quiet, with her side nestling -shyly against the wharf to which she was made fast with very new lines, -intimidated by the company of her tried and experienced bisters already -familiar with all the violences of the ocean and the exacting love of -men.” - -Her friend stands there on the quay and bids her be of good courage; he -salutes her grace and spirit--he echoes, with all the implied irony of -contrast, his companion’s “Ships are all right....” - -He explains the many kinds of ships that there are--the rogues, the -wickedly malicious, {035}the sly, the benevolent, the proud, the -adventurous, the staid, the decorous. For even the worst of these he has -indulgences that he would never offer to the soul of man. He cannot be -severe before such a world of fine spirits. - -Finally, in the episode of the _Tremolino_ and her tragic end (an end -that has in it a suggestion of that later story, _Freya of the Seven -Inlands_), in that sinister adventure of Dominic and the vile Caesar, he -shows us, in miniature, what it is that he intends to do with all this -material. He gives us the soul of the _Tremolino_, the soul of Dominic, -the soul of the sea upon which they are voyaging. Without ever deserting -the realism upon which he builds his foundations he raises upon it his -house of romance. - -This book remains by far the easiest, the kindest, the most friendly -of all his books. He has been troubled here by no questions of form, of -creation, of development, whether of character or of incident. - -It is the best of all possible prologues to his more creative work. - - - - - -II--THE NOVELIST - - -I - -|IN {036}discussing the art of any novelist as distinct from the poet -or essayist there are three special questions that we may ask--as to the -Theme, as to the Form, as to the creation of Character. - -It is possible to discuss these three questions in terms that can be -applied, in no fashion whatever, to the poem or the essay, although the -novel may often more truly belong to the essay or the poem to the -novel, as, for instance, _The Ring and the Book_ and _Aurora Leigh_ bear -witness. All such questions of ultimate classes and divisions are vain, -but these three divisions of Theme, Form and Character do cover many -of the questions that are to be asked about any novelist simply in his -position as novelist {037}and nothing else. That Joseph Conrad is, in -his art, most truly poet as well as novelist no reader of his work -will deny. I wish, in this chapter, to consider him simply as a -novelist--that is, as a narrator of the histories of certain human -beings, with his attitude to those histories. - -Concerning the form of the novel the English novelists, until the -seventies and eighties of the nineteenth century, worried themselves -but slightly. If they considered the matter they chuckled over their -deliberate freedom, as did Sterne and Fielding. Scott considered -story-telling a jolly business in which one was, also, happily able -to make a fine living, but he never contemplated the matter with any -respect. Jane Austen, who had as much form as any modern novelist, was -quite unaware of her happy possession. The mid-Victorians gloriously -abandoned themselves to the rich independence of shilling numbers, a -fashion which forbade Form as completely as the manners of the time -forbade frankness. A new period began at the end of the fifties; -{038}but no one in 1861 was aware that a novel called _Evan Harrington_ -was of any special importance; it made no more stir than did _Almayer’s -Folly_ in the early nineties, although the wonderful _Richard Feverel_ -had already preceded it. - -With the coming of George Meredith and Thomas Hardy the Form of the -novel, springing straight from the shores of France, where _Madame -Bovary_ and _Une Vie_ showed what might be done by taking trouble, grew -into a question of considerable import. Robert Louis Stevenson showed -how important it was to say things agreeably, even when you had not -very much to say. Henry James showed that there was so much to say about -everything that you could not possibly get to the end of it, and Rudyard -Kipling showed that the great thing was to see things as they were. At -the beginning of the nineties everyone was immensely busied over the way -that things were done. _The Yellow Book_ sprang into a bright existence, -flamed, and died. “Art for Art’s sake” was slain by the trial of Oscar -Wilde in 1895. - -{039}Mr Wells, in addition to fantastic romances, wrote stories about -shop assistants and knew something about biology. The Fabian Society -made socialism entertaining. Mr Bernard Shaw foreshadowed a new period -and the Boer War completed an old one. - -Of the whole question of Conrad’s place in the history of the English -novel and his influence upon it I wish to speak in a later chapter. -I would simply say here that if he was borne in upon the wind of the -French influence he was himself, in later years, one of the chief agents -in its destruction, but, beginning to write in English as he did in the -time of _The Yellow Book_, passing through all the realistic reaction -that followed the collapse of aestheticism, seeing the old period washed -away by the storm of the Boer War, he had, especially prepared for him, -a new stage upon which to labour. The time and the season were ideal for -the work that he had to do. - - -II - -{040}The form in which Conrad has chosen to develop his narratives is -the question which must always come first in any consideration of him -as a novelist; the question of his form is the ground upon which he has -been most frequently attacked. - -His difficulties in this matter have all arisen, as I have already -suggested, from his absorbing interest in life. Let us imagine, for an -instant, an imaginary case. He has teen in some foreign port a quarrel -between two seamen. One has “knifed” the other, and the quarrel has been -watched, with complete indifference, by a young girl and a bibulous old -wastrel who is obviously a relation both of hers and of the stricken -seaman. The author sees here a case for his art and, wishing to give -us the matter with the greatest possible truth and accuracy, he begins, -_oratio recta_, by the narration of a little barber whose shop is just -over the spot where the quarrel took place and whose lodgers the old man -and the girl are. He {041}describes the little barber and is, at once, -amazed by the interesting facts that he discovers about the man. Seen -standing in his doorway he is the most ordinary little figure, but -once investigate his case and you find a strange contrast between his -melancholy romanticism and the flashing fanaticism of his love for the -young girl who lodges with him. That leads one back, through many years, -to the moment of his first meeting with the bibulous old man, and for -a witness of that wo must hunt out a villainous old woman who keeps -a drinking saloon in another part of the town. This old woman, now -so drink-sodden and degraded, had once a history of her own. Once she -was... - -And so the matter continues. It is not so much a deliberate evocation of -the most difficult of methods, this maimer of narration, as a poignant -witness to Conrad’s own breathless surprise at his discoveries. Mr Henry -James, speaking of this enforced collection of oratorical witnesses, -says: “It places Mr Conrad absolutely alone as a {042}votary of the way -to do a thing that shall make it undergo most doing,” and his amazement -at Conrad’s patient pursuit of unneeded difficulties may seem to us the -stranger if we consider that in _What Maisie Knew_ and _The Awkward Age_ -he has practised almost precisely the same form himself. Indeed beside -the intricate but masterly form of _The Awkward Age_ the duplicate -narration of _Chance_ seems child’s play. Mr Henry James makes the -mistake of speaking as though Conrad had quite deliberately chosen the -form of narration that was most difficult to him, simply for the fun -of overcoming the difficulties, the truth being that he has chosen the -easiest, the form of narration brought straight from the sea and the -ships that he adored, the form of narration used by the Ancient Mariner -and all the seamen before and alter him. Conrad must have his direct -narrator, because that is the way in which stories in the past had -generally come to him. He wishes to deny the effect of that direct and -simple honesty that had always seemed so attractive to {043}him. He must -have it by word of mouth, because it is by word of mouth that he himself -has always demanded it, and if one witness is not enough for the truth -of it then must he have two or three. - -Consider for a moment the form of three of his most important novels: -_Lord Jim, Nostromo_ and _Chance_. It is possible that _Lord Jim_ was -conceived originally as a sketch of character, derived by the author -from one scene that was, in all probability, an actual reminiscence. -Certainly, when the book is finished, one scene beyond all others -remains with the reader; the scene of the inquiry into the loss of -the _Patna_, or rather the vision of Jim and his appalling companions -waiting outside for the inquiry to begin. Simply in the contemplation -of these four men Conrad has his desired contrast; the skipper of -the _Patna_: “He made me think of a trained baby elephant walking -on hind-legs. He was extravagantly gorgeous too--got up in a. soiled -sleeping-suit, bright green and deep orange vertical stripes, with a -pair of ragged straw slippers {044}on his bare feet, and somebody’s -cast-off pith hat, very dirty and two sizes too small for him, tied up -with a manilla rope-yarn on the top of his big head.” There are also two -other “no-account chaps with him”--a sallow faced mean little chap with -his arm in a sling, and a long individual in a blue flannel coat, -as dry as a chip and no stouter than a broomstick, with drooping grey -moustaches, who looked about him with an air of jaunty imbecility, and, -with these three, Jim, “clean-limbed, clean-faced, firm on his feet, as -promising a boy as the sun ever shone on.” Here are these four, in the -same box, condemned for ever by all right-thinking men. That boy in the -same box as those obscene scoundrels! At once the artist has fastened -on to his subject, it bristles with active, vital possibilities and -discoveries. We, the observers, share the artist’s thrill. We watch -our author dart upon a subject with the excitement of adventurers -discovering a gold mine. How much will it yield? How deep will it go? -We are thrilled with the suspense. {045}Conrad, having discovered his -subject, must, for the satisfaction of that honour which is his most -deeply cherished virtue, prove to us his authenticity. “I was not -there myself,” he tells us, “but I can show you someone who was.” He -introduces us to a first-hand witness, Marlowe or another. “Now tell -your story.” He has at once the atmosphere in which he is happiest, -and so, having his audience clustered about him, unlimited time at -everyone’s disposal, whiskies and cigars without stint, he lets himself -go. He is bothered now by no question but the thorough investigation of -his discovery. What had Jim done that he should be in such a case? We -must have the story of the loss of the _Patna_, that marvellous journey -across the waters, all the world of the pilgrims, the obscene captain -and Jim’s fine, chivalrous soul. Marlowe is inexhaustible. He has so -much to say and so many fine words in which to say it. At present, so -absorbed are we, so successful is he, that we are completely held. The -illusion is perfect. We come to the inquiry. {046}One of the judges is -Captain Brierley. “What! not know Captain Brierley! Ah! but I must tell -you! Most extraordinary thing!” - -The world grows around us; a world that can contain the captain of the -_Patna_, Brierley and Jim at the same time! The subject before us seems -now so rich that we are expecting to see it burst, at any moment, in the -author’s hands, but so long as that first visualised scene is the centre -of the episode, so long as the experience hovers round that inquiry -and the Esplanade outside it, we are held, breathless and believing. -We believe even in the eloquent Marlowe. Then the moment passes. Every -possible probe into its heart has been made. We are satisfied. - -There follows then the sequel, and here at once the weakness of the -method is apparent. The author having created his narrator must continue -with him. Marlowe is there, untired, eager, waiting to begin again. -But the trouble is that we are do longer assured now of the truth -and {047}reality of his story. He saw--we cannot for an instant doubt -it--that group on the Esplanade; all that he could tell us about that -we, breathlessly, awaited. But now we are uncertain whether he is not -inventing a romantic sequel. He must go on--that is the truly terrible -thing about Marlowe--and at the moment when we question his authenticity -we are suspicious of his very existence, ready to be irritated by his -flow of words demanding something more authentic than that voice that -is now only dimly heard. The author himself perhaps feels this; he -duplicates, he even trebles his narrators and with each fresh agent -raises a fresh crop of facts, contrasts, halts and histories. That then -is the peril of the method. Whilst we believe we are completely held, -but let the authenticity waver for a moment and the danger of disaster -is more excessive than with any other possible form of narration. Create -your authority and we have at once someone at whom we may throw -stones if we are not beguiled, Marlowe has certainly been compelled to -{048}face, at moments in his career, an angry, irritated audience. - -_Nostromo_ is, for the reason that we never lose our confidence in the -narrator, a triumphant vindication of these methods. That is not to deny -that _Nostromo_ is extremely contused in places, but it is a -confusion that arises rather from Conrad’s confidence in the reader’s -fore-knowledge of the facts than in a complication of narrations. The -narrations are sometimes complicated--old Captain Mitchell does not -always achieve authenticity--but on the whole, the reader may be said to -be puzzled, simply because he is told so much about some things and so -little about others. - -But this assurance of the author’s that we must have already learnt the -main facts of the case comes from his own convinced sense of the reality -of it. This time he has no Marlowe. He was there himself. “Of course,” - he says to us, “you know all about that revolution in Sulaco, that -revolution that the Goulds were mixed up with. Well, I happened to be -there myself. I know all {049}the people concerned, and the central -figure was not Gould, nor Mitchell, nor Monyngham--no, it was a man -about whom no one outside the republic was told a syllable. I knew the -man well.... He.. and there we all are.” - -The method is, in this case, as I have already said, completely -successful. There may be confusions, there may be scenes concerning -which we may be expected to be told much and are, in truth, told nothing -at all, but these confusions and omissions do, in the end, only add to -our conviction of the veracity of it. No one, after a faithful perusal -of _Nostromo_, can possibly doubt of the existence of Sulaco, of the -silver mine, of Nostromo and Decoud, of Mrs Gould, Antonio, the Viola -girls, of old Viola, Hirsch, Monyngham, Gould, Sotillo, of the death of -Viola’s wife, of the expedition at night in the painter, of Decoud alone -on the Isabels, of Hirsch’s torture, of Captain Mitchell’s watch--here -are characters the most romantic in the world, scenes that would surely, -in any other hands, be fantastic {050}melodrama, and both characters and -scenes are absolutely supported on the foundation of realistic truth. -Not for a moment from the first page to the last do we consciously doubt -the author’s word.... Here the form of narration is vindicated because -it is entirely convincing. - -Not so with the third example, _Chance_. Here, as with _Lord Jim_, we -may find one, visualised moment that stands for the whole book and as -in the earlier work we look back and see the degraded officers of the -_Patna_ waiting with Jim on the Esplanade, so our glance back over -_Chance_ reveals to us that moment when the Fynes, from the security of -their comfortable home, watch Flora de Barrel flying down the steps -of her horrible Brighton house as though the Furies pursued her. That -desperate flight is the key of the book. The moment of the chivalrous -Captain Anthony’s rescue of Flora from a world too villainous for her -and too double-faced for him gives the book’s theme, and never in all -the stories that preceded Flora’s has Conrad been so {051}eager to -afford us first-hand witnesses. We have, in the first place, the -unquenchable Marlowe sitting, with fine phrases at his lips, in a -riverside inn. To him enter Powell, who once served with Captain -Anthony; to these two add the little Fynes; there surely you have enough -to secure your alliance. But it is precisely the number of witnesses -that frightens us. Marlowe, unaided, would have been enough for us, -more than enough if we are to consider the author himself as a possible -narrator. But not only does the number frighten us, it positively hides -from us the figures of Captain Anthony and Flora de Barrel. Both the -Knight and the Maiden--as the author names them--are retiring souls, -and our hearts move in sympathy fin them as we contemplate their timid -hesitancy before the voluble inquisitions of Marlowe, young Powell and -the Fynes. Moreover, the intention of this method that it should secure -realistic conviction for the most romantic episodes does not here -achieve its purpose, as we have seen that it did in the first half -of {052}_Lord Jim_ and the whole of _Nostromo_. We believe most -emphatically in that first narration of young Powell’s about his first -chance. We believe in the first narration of Marlowe, although quite -casually he talks like this: “I do not even think that there was in -what he did a conscious and lofty confidence in himself, a particularly -pronounced sense of power which leads men so often into impossible or -equivocal situations.” We believe in the horrible governess (a fiercely -drawn figure). We believe in Marlowe’s interview with Flora on the -pavement outside Anthony’s room. - -We believe in the whole of the first half of the book, but even here we -are conscious that we would prefer to be closer to the whole thing, that -it would be pleasant to hear Flora and Anthony speak for themselves, -that we resent, a little, Marlowe’s intimacy which prevents, with -patronising complaisance, the intimacy that we, the readers, might have -seemed. Nevertheless we are so far held, we are captured. - -But when the second half of the book {053}arrives we can be confident -no longer. Here, as in _Lord Jim_, it is possible to feel that Conrad, -having surprised, seized upon, mastered his original moment, did not -know how to continue it. The true thing in _Lord Jim_ is the affair of -the _Patna_; the true thing in _Chance_ is Captain Anthony’s rescue of -Flora after her disaster. But whereas in _Lord Jim_ the sequel to Jim’s -cowardice has its own fine qualities of beauty and imagination, the -sequel to Captain Anthony’s rescue of Flora seems to one listener at any -rate a pitiably unconvincing climax of huddled melodrama. That chapter -in _Chance_ entitled _A Moonless Night_ is, in the first half of it, -surely the worst thing that Conrad ever wrote, save only that one early -short story, _The Return_. The conclusion of _Chance_ and certain tales -in his volume, _Within the Tides_, make one wonder whether that -alliance between romance and realism that he has hitherto so wonderfully -maintained is not breaking down before the baleful strength of the -former of these two qualities. - -{054}It remains only to be said that when credence so entirely fails, -as it must before the end of _Chance_, the form of narration in _Oratio -Recta_ is nothing less than maddening. Suddenly we do not believe in -Marlowe, in Powell, in the Fynes: we do not believe even in Anthony -and Flora. We are the angrier because earlier in the evening we were -so completely taken in. It is as though we had given our money to a -deserving cause and discovered a charlatan. - -I have described at length the form in which the themes of these books -are developed, because it is the form that, here extensively, here quite -unobtrusively, clothes all the novels and tales. We are caught and held -by the skinny finger of the Ancient Mariner. When he has a true tale to -tell us his veritable presence is an added zest to our pleasure. But, if -his presence be not true... - - -III - -If we turn to the themes that engage Joseph Conrad’s attention we shall -see that {055}in almost every case his subjects are concerned with -unequal combats--unequal to his own far-seeing vision, but never to -the human souls engaged in them, and it is this consciousness of the -blindness that renders men’s honesty and heroism of so little account -that gives occasion for his irony. - -He chooses, in almost every case, the most solid and unimaginative of -human beings for his heroes, and it seems that it is these men alone -whom he can admire. “If a human soul has vision he simply gives the -thing up,” we can hear him say. “He can see at once that the odds are -too strong for him. But these simple souls, with their consciousness of -the job before them and nothing else, with their placid sense of honour -and of duty, upon them you may loosen all heaven’s bolts and lightnings -and they will not quail.” They command his pity, his reverence, his -tenderness, almost his love. But at the end, with an ironic shrug of his -shoulders, he says: “You see. I told you so. He may even think he has -won. We know better, you and I.” {056}The theme of _Almayer’s Folly_ -is a struggle of a weak man against nature, of _The Nigger of the -Narcissus_ the struggle of many simple men against the presence of -death, of _Lord Jim_, again, the struggle of a simple man against -nature (here the man wins, but only, we feel, at the cost of truth). -_Nostromo_, the conquest of a child of nature by the silver mine which -stands over him, conscious of its ultimate victory, from the very first. -_Chance_, the struggle of an absolutely simple and upright soul against -the dishonesties of a world that he does not understand. _Typhoon_, the -very epitome of Conrad’s themes, is the struggle of M’Whirr against the -storm (here again it is M’Whirr who apparently wins, but we can hear, -in the very last line of the book, the storm’s confident chuckle of -ultimate victory). In _Heart of Darkness_ the victory is to the forest. -In _The End of the Tether_ Captain Whalley, one of Conrad’s finest -figures, is beaten by the very loftiness of his character. The three -tales in _‘Twixt Land, and Sea_ are all themes of this kind--the -struggle of simple, {057}unimaginative men against forces too strong -for them. In _The Secret Agent_ Winnie Verloc, another simple character, -finds life too much for her and commits suicide. In _Under Western Eyes_ -Razumov, the dreamer, is destroyed by a world that laughs at the pains -and struggles of insignificant individuals. - -Of Conrad’s philosophy I must speak in another place: here it is enough -to say that it is impossible to imagine him choosing as the character -of a story jolly, independent souls who take life for what it gives them -and leave defeat or victory to the stars. - -Whatever Conrad’s books are or are not, it may safely be said that -they are never jolly, and his most devoted disciple would, in all -probability, resent any suggestion of a lighter hand or a gentler -affection, his art, nevertheless, is limited by this persistent brooding -over the inequality of life’s battle. His humour, often of a very -fine kind, is always sinister, because his choice of theme forbids -light-heartedness. - -Tom Jones and Tristram Shandy would {058}have found Marlowe, Jim and -Captain Anthony quite impossibly solemn company--but I do not deny that -they might not have been something the better for a little of it. - -I have already said that his characters are, for the most part, simple -and unimaginative men, but that does not mean that they are so simple -that there is nothing in them. The first thing of which one is sure in -meeting a number of Conrad’s characters is that they have existences -and histories entirely independent of their introducer’s kind offices. -Conrad has met them, has talked to them, has come to know them, but we -are sure not only that there is very much more that he could tell us -about them if he had time and space, but that even when he had told us -all that he knew he would only have touched on the fringe of their real -histories. - -One of the distinctions between the modern English novel and the -mid-Victorian English novel is that modern characters have but little of -the robust vitality of their {059}predecessors; the figures in the novel -of to-day fade so easily from the page that endeavours to keep them. - -In the novels of Mr Henry James we feel at times that the characters -fade before the motives attributed to them, in those of Mr Wells before -an idea, a curse, or a remedy, in those of Mr Bennett before a creeping -wilderness of important insignificances, in those of Mr Galsworthy -before the oppression of social inequalities, in those of Mrs Wharton -before the shadow of Mr Henry James, even in those of Mr Hardy -before the omnipotence of an inevitable God whom, in spite of his -inevitability, Mr Hardy himself is arranging in the background; it -may be claimed for the characters of Mr Conrad that they yield -their solidity to no force, no power, not even to their author’s own -determination that they are doomed, in the end, to defeat. - -This is not for a moment to say that Joseph Conrad is a finer -novelist than these others, but this quality he has beyond his -contemporaries--namely, the assurance that {060}his characters have -their lives and adventures both before and after the especial cases that -he is describing to us. - -The Russian Tchekov has, in his plays, this gift supremely, so that at -the close of _The Three Sisters_ or _The Cherry Orchard_ we are left -speculating deeply upon “what happened afterwards” to Gayef or Barbara, -to Masha or Epikhadov; with Conrad’s sea captains as with Tchekov’s -Russians we see at once that they are entirely independent of the -incidents that we are told about them. This independence springs partly -from the author’s eager, almost naïve curiosity. It is impossible for -him to introduce us to any officer on his ship without whispering to us -in an aside details about his life, his wife and family on shore. By so -doing he forges an extra link in his chain of circumstantial evidence, -but we do not feel that here he is deliberately serving his art--it is -only that quality already mentioned, his own astonished delight at the -things that he is discovering. We learn, for instance, about Captain -M’Whirr that he wrote long letters home, {061}beginning always with the -words, “My darling Wife,” and relating in minute detail each successive -trip of the _Nan-Shan_. Mrs M’Whirr, we learn, was “a pretentious person -with a scraggy neck and a disdainful manner, admittedly lady-like and in -the neighbourhood considered as ‘quite superior.’ The only secret of her -life was her abject terror of the time when her husband would come home -to stay for good.” Also in _Typhoon_ there is the second mate “who never -wrote any letters, did not seem to hope for news from anywhere; and -though he had been heard once to mention West Hartlepool, it was with -extreme bitterness, and only in connection with the extortionate charges -of a boarding-house.” How conscious we are of Jim’s English country -parsonage, of Captain Anthony’s loneliness, of Marlowe’s isolation. By -this simple thread of connection between the land and the ship the whole -character stands, human and convincing, before us. Of the sailors on -board the _Narcissus_ there is not one about whom, after his landing, -{062}we are not curious. There is the skipper, whose wife comes on -board, “A real lady, in a black dress and with a parasol.”... “Very soon -the captain, dressed very smartly and in a white shirt, went with her -over the side. We didn’t recognise him at all....” And Mr Baker, the -chief mate! Is not this little farewell enough to make us his friends -for life? - -“No one waited for him ashore. Mother died; father and two brothers, -Yarmouth fishermen, drowned together on the Dogger Bank; sister married -and unfriendly. Quite a lady, married to the leading tailor of a little -town, and its leading politician, who did not think his sailor brother -in-law quite respectable enough for him. Quite a lady, quite a lady, -he thought, sitting down for a moment’s rest on the quarter-hatch. Time -enough to go ashore and get a bite, and sup, and a bed somewhere. -He didn’t like to part with a ship. No one to think about then. The -darkness of a misty evening fell, cold and damp, upon the deserted deck; -and Mr Baker sat smoking, thinking of all the successive ships to whom -through many {063}long years he had given the best of a seaman’s care. -And never a command in sight. Not once!” - -There are others--the abominable Donkin for instance. “Donkin entered. -They discussed the account... Captain Allistoun said. ‘I give you a bad -discharge,’ he said quietly. Donkin raised his voice: ‘I don’t want your -bloomin’ discharge--keep it. I’m goin’ ter ‘ave a job hashore.’ He turned -to us. ‘No more bloomin’ sea for me,’ he said, aloud. All looked at him. -He had better clothes, had an easy air, appeared more at home than any -of us; he stared with assurance, enjoying the effect of his -declaration.” - -In how many novels would Donkin’s life have been limited by the part -that he was required to play in the adventures of the _Narcissus?_ As it -is our interest in his progress has been satisfied by a prologue -only. Or there is Charley, the boy of the crew--“As I came up I saw a -red-faced, blowzy woman, in a grey shawl, and with dusty, {064}fluffy -hair, fall on Charley’s neck. It was his mother. She slobbered over -him:--‘Oh, my boy! my boy!’--‘Leggo me,’ said Charley, ‘leggo, -mother!’ I was passing him at the time, and over the untidy head of -the blubbering woman he gave me a humorous smile and a glance ironic, -courageous, and profound, that seemed to put all my knowledge of life -to shame. I nodded and passed on, but heard him say again, -good-naturedly:--‘If you leggo of me this minyt--ye shall ‘ave a bob for -a drink out of my pay.’” - -But one passes from these men of the sea--from M’Whirr and Baker, -from Lingard and Captain Whalley, from Captain Anthony and Jim, with a -suspicion that the author will not convince us quite so readily with his -men of the land--and that suspicion is never entirely dismissed. About -such men as M’Whirr and Baker he can tell us nothing that we will not -believe. He has such sympathy and understanding for them that they will, -we are assured, deliver up to him their dearest secrets--those little -details, {065}M’Whirr’s wife, Mr Baker’s proud sister, Charley’s -mother, are their dearest secrets. But with the citizens of the other -world--with Stein, Decoud, Gould, Verloc, Razumov, the sinister Nikita, -the little Fynes, even the great Nostromo himself--we cannot be so -confident, simply because their discoverer cannot yield them that same -perfect sympathy. - -His theory about these men is that they have, all of them, an -_idée fixe_, that you must search for this patiently, honestly, -unsparingly--having found it, the soul of the man is revealed to you. -But is it? Is it not possible that Decoud or Verloc, feeling the probing -finger, offer up instantly any _idée fixe_ ready to hand because -they wish to be left alone? Decoud himself, for instance--Decoud, the -imaginative journalist in _Nostromo_, speculating with his ironic mind -upon romantic features, at his heart, apparently cynical and reserved, -the burning passion for the beautiful Antonia. He has yielded enough -to suggest the truth, but the truth itself eludes us. With Verloc again -{066}we have a quite masterly presentation of the man as Conrad sees -him. That first description of him is wonderful, both in its reality -and its significance. “His eyes were naturally heavy, he had an air of -having wallowed, fully dressed, all day on an unmade bed.” - -With many novelists that would be quite enough, that we should see the -character as the author sees him, but because, in these histories, we -have the convictions of the extension of the protagonists’ lives -beyond the stated episodes, it is not enough. Because they have lives -independent of the covers of the book we feel that there can be no end -to the things that we should be told about them, and they must be true -things. - -Verloc, for instance, is attached from the first to his _idée -fixe_--namely, that he should be able to retain, at all costs, his -phlegmatic state of self-indulgence and should not be jockeyed out of -it. At the first sign of threatened change he is terrified to his very -soul. Conrad never, for an instant, allows him to leave this ground -upon which he has {067}placed him. We see the man tied to his rock of -an _idée fixe_, but he has, nevertheless, we are assured, another life, -other motives, other humours, other terrors. It is perhaps a direct -tribute to the authors reserve power that we feel, at the book’s close, -that we should have been told so much more. - -Even with the great Nostromo himself we are not satisfied as we are with -Captain Whalley or Mr Kates. Nostromo is surely, as a picture, the moat -romantically satisfying figure in the English novel since Scott, -with the single exception of Thackeray’s Beatrix--and here I am not -forgetting Captain Silver, David Balfour, Catriona, nor, in our own -immediate time, young Beauchamp or the hero of that amazing and so -unjustly obscure fiction, _The Shadow of a Titan_. As a picture, -Nostromo shines with a flaming colour, shines, as the whole novel -shines, with a glow that is flung by the contrasted balance of its -romance and realism. From that first vision of him as he rides slowly -through the crowds, in his magnificent dress: “... his hat, a gay -sombrero with {068}a silver cord and tassels. The bright colours of a -Mexican scrape twisted on the mantle, the enormous silver buttons on the -embroidered leather jacket, the row of tiny silver buttons down the seam -of the trousers, the snowy linen, a silk sash with embroidered ends, the -silver plates on headstall and saddle... to that last moment when--... -in the dimly lit room Nostromo rolled his head slowly on the pillow and -opened his eyes, directing at the weird figure perched by his bedside -a glance of enigmatic and mocking scorn. Then his head rolled back, his -eyelids fell, and the Capatos of the Cargadores died without a word or -moan after an hour of immobility, broken by short shudders testifying to -the most atrocious sufferings”--we are conscious of his superb figure; -and after his death we do, indeed, believe what the last lines of the -book assure us--“In that true cry of love and grief that seemed to -ring aloud from Punta Mala to Azuera and away to the bright line of -the horizon, overhung by a big white cloud shining like a mass of -solid silver, the {069}genius of the magnificent Capatuz de Cargadores -dominated the dark gulf containing his conquests of treasure and love.” - His genius dominates, yes--but it is the genius of a magnificent picture -standing as a frontispiece to the book of his soul. And that soul is not -given us--Nostromo, proud to the last, refuses to surrender it to us. -Why is it that the slender sketch of old Singleton in _The Nigger of -the Narcissus_ gives us the very heart of the man, so that volumes -might tell us more of him indeed, but could not surrender him to us more -truly, and all the fine summoning of Nostromo only leaves him beyond -our grasp? We believe in Nostromo, but we are told about him--we have -not met him. - -Nevertheless, at another turn of the road, this criticism must seem the -basest ingratitude. When we look back and survey that crowd, so various, -so distinct whether it be they who are busied, before our eyes, with the -daily life of Sulaoo, or the Verloc family (the most poignant scene in -the whole of Conrad’s art--the drive in the {070}cab of old Mrs Verloc, -Winnie and Stevie--compels, additionally, our gratitude) or that strange -gathering, the Haldins, Nikita, Laspara, Madame de S------, Peter -Ivanovitch, Raznmov, at Geneva, or the highly coloured figures in -_Romance_ (a book fine in some places, astonishingly second-rate in -others), Falk or Amy Foster, Jacobus and his daughter, Jasper and his -lover, all those and so many, many more, what can we do but embrace the -world that is offered to us, accept it as an axiom of life that, of -all these figures, some will be near to us, some more distant? It is, -finally, a world that Conrad offers us, not a series of novels in whose -pages we find the same two or three figures returning to us--old friends -with new faces and new names--but a planet that we know, even as we know -the Meredith planet, the Hardy planet, the James planet. - -Looking back, we may trace its towns and rivers, its continents and -seas, its mean streets and deep valleys, its country houses, its -sordid hovels, its vast, untamed forests, its deserts and wilderness -s. Although each {071}work, from, the vast _Nostromo_ to the minutely -perfect _Secret Share_, has its new theme, its form, its separate heart, -the swarming life that he has created knows no boundary. And in this, -surely, creation has accomplished its noblest work. - - - - -III--THE POET - -|THE {072}poet in Conrad is lyrical as well as philosophic. The lyrical -side is absent in certain of his works, as, for example, _The Secret -Agent_, and _Under Western Eyes_, or such short stories as _The -Informer_, or _Il Conde_, but the philosophic note sounded poetically, -as an instrument of music as well as a philosophy, is never absent. - -Three elements in the work of Conrad the poet as distinct from Conrad -the novelist deserve consideration--style, atmosphere and philosophy. In -the matter of style the first point that must strike any constant reader -of the novels is the change that is to be marked between the earlier -works and the later. Here is a descriptive passage from {073}Conrad’s -second novel, _An Outcast of the Islands_: - -“He followed her step by step till at last they both stopped, facing -each other under the big tree of the enclosure. The solitary exile of -the forests great, motionless and solemn in his abandonment, left alone -by the life of ages that had been pushed away from him by those pigmies -that crept at his foot, towered high and straight above their leader. He -seemed to look on, dispassionate and imposing in his lonely greatness, -spreading his branches wide in a gesture of lofty protection, as if to -hide them in the sombre shelter of innumerable leaves; as if moved by -the disdainful compassion of the strong, by the scornful pity of an -aged giant, to screen this struggle of two human hearts from the cold -scrutiny of glittering stars.” - -And from his latest novel, _Chance_: - -“The very sea, with short flashes of foam bursting out here and there -in the gloomy distances, the unchangeable, safe sea sheltering a man -from all passions, except its own anger, seemed queer to the quick -{074}glance he threw to windward when the already effaced horizon traced -no reassuring limit to the eye. In the expiring diffused twilight, -and before the clouded night dropped its mysterious veil, it was the -immensity of space made visible--almost palpable. Young Powell felt -it. He felt it in the sudden sense of his isolation; the trustworthy, -powerful ship of his first acquaintance reduced to a speck, to something -almost undistinguishable. The mere support for the soles of his two -feet before that unexpected old man becoming so suddenly articulate in a -darkening universe.” - -It must be remembered that the second of these quotations is the voice -of Marlowe and that therefore it should, in necessity, be the simpler of -the two. Nevertheless, the distinction can very clearly be observed. The -first piece of prose is quite definitely lyrical: it has, it cannot be -denied, something of the “purple patch.” We feel that the prose is too -dependent upon sonorous adjectives, that it has the deliberation of work -slightly affected by the author’s {075}determination that it shall be -fine. The rhythm in it, however, is as deliberate as the rhythm of any -poem in English, the picture evoked as distinct and clear-cut as though -it were, in actual tact, a poem detached from all context and, finally, -there is the inevitable philosophical implication to give the argument -to the picture. Such passages of descriptive prose may be found again -and again in the earlier novels and tales of Conrad, in _Almayer’s -Folly, Tales of Unrest, The Nigger of the Narcissus, Typhoon, Youth, -Heart of Darkness, Lord Jim_,--prose piled high with sonorous and -slow-moving adjectives, three adjectives to a noun, prose that sounds -hike an Eastern invocation to a deity in whom, nevertheless, the -suppliant does not believe. At its worst, the strain that its sonority -places upon movements and objects of no importance is disastrous. -For instance, in the tale called _The Return_, there is the following -passage:-- - -“He saw her shoulder touch the lintel of the door. She swayed as if -dazed. There was {076}less than a second of suspense while they both -felt as if poised on the very edge of moral annihilation, ready to fall -into some devouring nowhere. Then almost simultaneously he shouted, -‘Come back,’ and she let go the handle of the door. She turned round in -peaceful desperation like one who has deliberately thrown away the last -chance of life; and for a moment the room she faced appeared terrible, -and dark, and safe--like a grave.” - -The situation here simply will not bear the weight of the words--“moral -annihilation,” “devouring nowhere,” “peaceful desperation,” “last chance -of life,” “terrible,” “like a grave.” That he shouted gives a final -touch of ludicrous exaggeration to the whole passage. - -Often, in the earlier books, Conrad’s style has the awkward -over-emphasis of a writer who is still acquiring the language that he is -using, like a foreigner who shouts to us because he thinks that thus -we shall understand him more easily. But there is also, in this earlier -style, the marked effect of {077}two influences. One influence is that -of the French language and especially of the author of _Madame Bovary_. -When we recollect that Conrad hesitated at the beginning of his career -as to whether he would write in French or English, we can understand -this French inflection. Flaubert’s effect on his style is quite -unmistakable. This is a sentence of Flaubert’s: “Toutes ses velléités de -dénigrement l’envanouissaiont sous la poésie du rôle qui l’envahissait; -et entrainée vers l’homme par l’illusion du personnage elle tâcha de se -figurer sa vie, cette vie retentissante, extraordinaire, splendide...” - and this a sentence of Conrad’s: “Her hands slipped slowly off Lingard’s -shoulders and her arms tell by her side, listless, discouraged, as if -to her--to her, the savage, violent and ignorant creature--had been -revealed clearly in that moment the tremendous fact of our isolation, of -the loneliness, impenetrable and transparent, elusive and everlasting.” - -Conrad’s sentence reads like a direct translation from the French, It -is probable, {078}however, that his debt to Flaubert and the French -language can be very easily exaggerated, and it does not seem, in -any case, to have driven very deeply into the heart of his form. The -influence is mainly to be detected in the arrangement of words and -sentences as though he had in the first years of his work, used it as a -crutch before he could walk alone. - -The second of the early influences upon his style is of far greater -importance--the influence of the vast, unfettered elements of nature -that he had, for so many years, so directly served. If it were not for -his remarkable creative gift that had been, from the very first, at its -full strength, his early books would stand as purely lyrical evocations -of the sea and the forest. It is the poetry of the Old Testament of -which we think in many pages of _Almayer’s Folly_ and _An Outcast of -the Island_, a poetry that has the rhythm and metre of a spontaneous -emotion. He was never again to catch quite the spirit of that first -rapture. - -He was under the influence of these powers {079}also in that, at that -time, they were too strong for him. We feel with him that he is impotent -to express his wonder and praise because he is still so immediately -under their sway. His style, in these earlier hooks, has the repetitions -and extended phrases of a man who is marking time before the inspired -moment comes to him--often the inspiration does not come because he -cannot detach himselt with sufficient pause and balance. But in his -middle period, in the period of _Youth, Typhoon, Heart of Darkness_ and -_Nostromo_, this lyrical impulse can be seen at its perfection, beating, -steadily, spontaneously, with the finest freedom and yet disciplined, as -it were, by its own will and desire. Compare, for a moment, this passage -from _Typhoon_ with that earlier one from _The Outcast of the Islands_ -that I quoted above: - -“He watched her, battered and solitary, labouring heavily in a wild -scene of mountainous black waters lit by the gleam of distant worlds. -She moved slowly, breathing into the still core of the hurricane -{080}the excess of her strength in a white cloud of steam, and the -deep-toned vibration of the escape was like the defiant trumpeting of a -living creature of the sea impatient for the renewal of the contest. -It ceased suddenly. The still air moaned. Above Jakes’ head a few stars -shone into the pit of black vapours. The inky edge of the cloud-disc -frowned upon the ship under the patch of glittering sky. The stars too -seemed to look at her intently, as if for the last time, and the cluster -of their splendour sat like a diadem on a lowering brow.” - -That is poet’s work, and poet’s work at its finest. Instead of -impressing us, as the earlier piece of prose, with the fact that the -author has made the very most of a rather thin moment--feels, indeed, -himself that it is thin--we are here under the influence of something -that can have no limits to the splendours that it contains. The work is -thick, as though it had been wrought by the finest workman out of -the heart of the finest material--and yet it remains, through all its -discipline, spontaneous. - -These three tales, _Typhoon, Youth_ and {081}_Heart of Darkness_, stand -by themselves as the final expression of Conrad’s lyrical gift. We -may remember such characters as M’Whirr, Kurtz, Marlowe, but they are -figures as the old seneschal in _The Eve of St Agnes_ or the Ancient -Mariner himself are figures. They are as surely complete poems, wrought -and finished in the true spirit of poetry, as Whitman’s _When Lilac -first on the Door yard bloomed_ or Keats’ _Nightingale._ Their author -was never again to succeed so completely in combining the free spirit of -his enthusiasm with the disciplined restraint of the true artist. - -The third period of his style shows him cool and clear-headed as to -the things that he intends to do. He is now the slightly ironic, artist -whose business is to get things on to paper in the clearest possible -way. He is conscious that in the past he has been at the mercy of -sonorous and high-sounding adjectives. He will use them still, but -only to show them that they are at his mercy. Marlowe, his appointed -minister, is older--he must look back now on the colours of {082}_Youth_ -with an indulgent smile. And when Marlowe is absent, in such novels as -_The Secret Agent_ and _Under Western Eyes_, in such a volume of -stories as _A Set of Six_, the lyrical beat in the style is utterly -abandoned--we are led forward by sentences as grave, as assured, and -sometimes as ponderous as a city policeman. Nevertheless, in that -passage from _Chance_ quoted at the beginning of the chapter, although -we may be far from the undisciplined enthusiasm of _An Outcast of -the Islands_, the lyrical impulse still remains. Yes, it is there, -but--“Young Powell felt it.” In that magical storm that was _Typhoon_ -God alone can share our terror and demand our courage; in the later -experience young Powell is our companion. - - -II. - -The question of style devolves here directly into the question of -atmosphere. There may roughly be said to be four classes of novelists -in the matter of atmosphere. There is the novelist who, intent upon his -{083}daily bread or game of golf, has no desire to be worried by such -a perplexing business. He produces stories that might without loss play -the whole of their action in the waiting-room of an English railway -station. There is the novelist who thinks that atmosphere matters -immensely, who works hard to produce it and _does_ produce it in thick -slabs. There are the novelists whose theme, characters and background -react so admirably that the atmosphere is provided simply by that -reaction--and there, finally, it is left, put into no relation with -other atmospheres, serving no further purpose than the immediate one of -stating the facts. Of this school are the realists and, in our own -day, Mr Arnold Bennett’s Brighton background in _Hilda Lessways_ or -Mrs Wharton’s New York background in _The House of Mirth_ offer most -successful examples of such realistic work. The fourth class provides us -with the novelists who wish to place their atmosphere in relation -with the rest of life. Our imagination is awakened, insensibly, by the -contemplation of some scene and is thence {084}extended to the whole -vista, of life, from birth to death; although the scene may actually be -as remote or as conlined as space can make it, its potential limits -are boundless, its progression is extended beyond all possibilities -of definition. Such a moment is the death of Bazarov in _Fathers and -Children_, the searching of Dmitri in _The Brothers Karamazov_, the -scene at the theatre in _The Ring and the Book_, the London meeting -between Beauchamp and René in _Beauchamp’s Career_. It is not only that -these scenes are “done” to the full extent of their “doing,” it is also -that they have behind them the lyrical impulse that ignites them with -all the emotion and beauty in the history of the world; Turgeniev, -Dostoievsky, Browning, Meredith were amongst the greatest of the poets. -Conrad, at his highest moments, is also of that company. - -But it is not enough to say that this potential atmosphere is simply -lyrical. Mr Chesterton, in his breathless _Victorian Age in Literature_, -has named this element Glamour. {085}In writing of the novels by George -Eliot he says: “Indeed there is almost every element of literature, -except a certain indescribable thing called _Glamour_, which was the -whole stock-in-trade of the Brontes, which we feel in Dickens when Quilp -clambers, and rotten wood by the desolate river; and even in Thackeray, -when Edmond wanders like some swarthy crow about the dismal avenues of -Castlewood.” Now’ this matter of _Glamour_ is not all, because Dickens, -for instance, is not at all potential. His pictures of Quilp or the -house of the Dedloeks or Jonas Chuzzlewit’s escape after the murder do -not put us into touch with other worlds--but we may say, at any rate, -that when, in a novel atmosphere _is_ potential it is certain also to -have glamour. - -The potential qualities of Conrad’s atmosphere are amongst his very -strongest gifts and, it we investigate the matter, we see that it is -his union of Romance and Realism that gives such results. Of almost no -important scene in his novels is it possible to define the boundaries. -In _The Outcast {086}of the Islands_, when Willems is exiled by Captain -Lingard, the terror of that forest has at its heart not only the actual -terror of that immediate scene, minutely and realistically described--it -has also the terror of all our knowledge of loneliness, desolation, the -power of something stronger than ourselves. In _Lord Jim_ the contrast -of Jim with the officers of the _Patna_ is a contrast not only -immediately vital and realised to the very fringe of the captain’s -gay and soiled pyjamas, but also potential to the very limits of our -ultimate conception of the eternal contrast between good and evil, -degradation and vigour, ugliness and beauty. In _The Nigger of the -Narcissus_ the death of the negro, James Wait, immediately affects -the lives of a number of very ordinary human beings whose friends and -intimates we have become--but that shadow that traps the feet of the -negro, that alarms the souls of Donkin, of Belfast, of Singleton, of the -boy Charlie, creeps also to our sides and envelops for us far more than -that single voyage of the _Narcissus_. {087}When Winnie Verloc, her old -mother and the boy Stevie, take their journey in the cab it does not -seem ludicrous to us that the tears of “that large female in a dark, -dusty wig, and ancient silk dress festooned with dingy white cotton -lace” should move us as though Mrs Verloc were our nearest friend. -That mournful but courageous journey remains in our mind as an intimate -companion of our own mournful and courageous experiences. Such examples -might be multiplied quite indefinitely. - -He has always secured his atmosphere by his own eager curiosity about -significant detail, but his detail is significant, not because he -wishes to impress his reader with the realism of his picture, but rather -because he s, like a very small boy in a strange house, pursuing the -most romantic adventures for his own pleasure and excitement only. We -may hear, with many novelists, the click of satisfaction with which they -drive another nail into the framework that supports their picture. “Now -see how firmly it stands,” they say. “That last nail settled it.” - But {088}Conrad is utterly unconscious as to his readers’ later -credulity--he is too completely held by his own amazing discoveries. -Sometimes, as in _The Return_, when no vision is granted to him, it is -as though he were banging on a brass tray with all his strength so that -no one should perceive his own grievous disappointment at his failure. -But, in his real discoveries, how the atmosphere piles itself up, around -and about him, how we follow at his heels, penetrating the darkness, -trusting to his courage, finding ourselves suddenly blinded by the blaze -of Aladdin’s cave! If he is tracing the tragedy of Willems and Almayer, -a tragedy that has for its natural background the gorgeous, heavy -splendour of those unending forests, he sees details that belong to the -austerest and most sharply disciplined realism. We see Lakamba, -asleep under the moon, slapping himself in his dreams to keep off the -mosquitoes; a bluebottle comes buzzing into the verandah above the -dirty plates of a half-finished meal and defies Lingard and Almayer, so -{089}that they are like men disheartened by some tremendous failure; the -cards with which Lingard tries to build a house for Almayer’s baby are -“a dirty double pack” with which he used to play Chinese bézique--it -bored Almayer but the old seaman delighted in it, considering it a -remarkable product of Chinese genius. The atmosphere of the terrible -final chapters is set against this picture of a room in which Mrs -Willems is waiting for her abominable husband: - -“Bits of white stuff; rags yellow, pink, blue; rags limp, brilliant and -soiled, trailed on the floor, lay on the desk amongst the sombre covers -of books soiled, greasy, but stiff-backed in virtue, perhaps, of their -European origin. The biggest set of bookshelves was partly hidden by a -petticoat, the waistband of which was caught upon the back of a -slender book pulled a little out of the row so as to make an improvised -clothes-peg. The folding canvas bedstead stood anyhow, parallel to no -wall, as if it had been, in the process of transportation to some remote -place, dropped casually there by tired bearers. And on the tumbled -blankets that {090}lay in a disordered heap on its edge, Joanna sat.... -Through the half-open shutter a ray of sunlight, a ray merciless and -crude, came into the room, beat in the early morning upon the safe in -the far-off corner, then, travelling against the sun, cut at midday the -big desk in two with its solid and clean-edged brilliance; with its hot -brilliance in which a swarm of flies hovered in dancing flight over some -dirty plate forgotten there amongst yellow papers for many a day!” - -And this room is set in the very heart of the forests--“the forests -unattainable, enigmatical, for ever beyond reach like the stars of -heaven--and as indifferent.” Had I space I could multiply from -every novel and tale examples of this creation of atmosphere by the -juxtaposition of the lyrical and the realistic--the lyrical pulse -beating through realistic detail ami transforming it. I will, however, -select one book, a supreme example of this effect. What I say about -_Nostromo_ may be proved from any other work of Conrad’s. - -The theme of _Nostromo_ is the domination {091}of the silver of the -Sulaco mine over the bodies and souls of the human beings who live near -it. The light of the silver shines over the book. It is typified by “the -white head of Iliguerota rising majestically upon the blue.” Conrad, -then, in choosing his theme, has selected the most romantic possible, -the spirit of silver treasure luring men on desperately to adventure -and to death. His atmosphere, therefore, is, in its highest lights, -romantic, even until that last vision of all of “the bright line of -the horizon, overhung by a big white cloud shining like a mass of solid -silver.” Sulaco burns with colour. We can see, as though we had been -there yesterday, those streets with the coaches, “great family arks -swayed on high leathern springs full of pretty powdered faces in which -the eyes looked intensely alive and black,” the houses, “in the early -sunshine, delicate primrose, pale pink, pale blue,” or, after dark, from -Mrs Gould’s balcony “towards the plaza end of the street the glowing -coals in the hazeros of the market women cooking their {092}evening -meal glowed red along the edge of the pavement. A man appeared without -a sound in the light of a street lamp, showing the coloured inverted -triangle of his broidered poncho, square on his shoulders, hanging to -a point below his knees. From the harbour end of the Calle a horseman -walked his soft-stepping mount, gleaming silver-grey abreast each lamp -under the dark shape of the rider.” Later there is that sinister glimpse -of the plaza, “where a patrol of cavalry rode round and round without -penetrating into the streets which resounded with shouts and the -strumming of guitars issuing from the open doors of pulperias... and -above the roofs, next to the perpendicular lines of the cathedral towers -the snowy curve of Higuerota blocked a large space of darkening blue -sky before the windows of the Intendencia.” In its final created -beauty Sulaco is as romantic, as coloured as one of those cloud-topped, -many-towered towns under whose gates we watch Grimm’s princes and -princesses passing--but the detail of it is {093}built with careful -realism demanded by the “architecture of Manchester or Birmingham.” We -wonder, as Sulaco grows familiar to us, as we realise its cathedral, -its squares and streets and houses, its slums, its wharves, its sea, its -hills and forests, why it is that other novelists have not created towns -for us. - -Anthony Trollope did, indeed, give us Barchester, but Barchester is -a shadow beside Sulaco. Mr Thomas Hardy’s Wessex map is the most -fascinating document in modern fiction, with the possible exception of -Stevenson’s chart in _Treasure Island_. Conrad, without any map at all, -gives us a familiarity with a small town on the South American coast -that far excels our knowledge of Barsetshire, Wessex and John Silver’s -treasure. If any attentive reader of _Nostromo_ were put down in Sulaco -tomorrow he would feel as though he had returned to his native town. The -detail that provides this final picture is throughout the book -incessant but never intruding. We do not look back, when the novel is -{094}finished, to any especial moment of explanation or introduction. We -have been led, quite unconsciously, forward. We are led, at moments of -the deepest drama, through rooms and passages that are only remembered, -many hours later, in retrospect. There is, for instance, the -Aristocratic Club, that “extended to strangers the large hospitality -of the cool, big rooms of its historic quarters in the front part of a -house, once a residence of a High official of the Holy Office. The -two wings, shut up, crumbled behind the nailed doors, and what may be -described as a grove of young orange-trees grown in the unpaved patio -concealed the utter ruin of the back part facing the gate. You turned in -from the street, as if entering a secluded orchard, where you came upon -the foot of a disjointed staircase, guarded by a moss-stained effigy of -some saintly bishop, mitred and stalled, and bearing the indignity of a -broken nose meekly, with his fine stone hands crossed on his breast. The -chocolate-coloured faces of servants with mops of black hair peeped -at you from above; the click of billiard balls came to your ears, and, -{095}ascending the steps, you would perhaps see in the first steps, very -stiff upon a straight-backed chair, in a good light, Don Pépé moving his -long moustaches as he spelt his way, at arm’s length, through an old -Sta Marta newspaper. His horse--a strong-hearted but persevering black -brute, with a hammer bead--you would have seen in the street dozing -motionless under an immense saddle, with its nose almost touching the -curbstone of the side-walk!” - -How perfectly recollected is that passage! Can we not hear the -exclamation of some reader “Yes--those orange-trees! It was just like -that when I was there!” How convinced we are of Conrad’s unimpeachable -veracity! How like him are those remembered details, “the nailed -doors,” “the fine stone hands,” “at arm’s-length”!--and can we not sniff -something of the author’s impatience to let himself go and tell us more -about that “hammer-headed horse” of whose adventures with Don Pépé he -must remember enough to fill a volume! - -He is able, therefore, upon this foundation {096}of a minute and -scrupulous réalisai to build as fantastic a building as he pleases -without fear of denying Truth. He does not, in _Nostromo_ at any rate, -choose to be fantastic, but he is romantic, and our final impression -of the silver mine and the town under its white shining shadow is -of something both as real and as beautiful as any vision of Keats or -Shelley. But with the colour we remember also the grim tragedy of the -life that has been shown to us. Near to the cathedral and the little -tinkering streets of the guitars were the last awful struggles of the -unhappy Hirsch. We remember Nostromo riding, with his silver buttons, -catching the red flower flung to him out of the crowd, but we remember -also his death and the agony of his defeated pride. Sotillo, the vainest -and most sordid of bandits, is no figure for a fairy story. - -Here, then, is the secret of Conrad’s atmosphere. He is the poet, -working through realism, to the poetic vision of life. That intention is -at the heart of his work from the first line of _Almayer s Folly_ to -the last {097}line of _Victory. Nostromo_ is not simply the history of -certain lives that were concerned in a South American revolution. It -_is_ that history, but it is also a vision, a statement of beauty that -has no country, nor period, and sets no barrier of immediate history or -fable for its interpretation.... - -When, however, we come finally to the philosophy that lies behind this -creation of character and atmosphere we perceive, beyond question, -certain limitations. - - -III - -As we have already seen, Conrad is of the firm and resolute conviction -that life is too strong, too clever and too remorseless for the sons of -men. - -It is as though, from some high window, looking down, he were able to -watch some shore, from whose security men were for ever launching little -cockle-shell boats upon a limitless and angry sea. He observes them, as -they advance with confidence, with determination, each with his own sure -{098}ambition of nailing victory to his mast; he alone can see that the -horizon is limitless; he can see farther than they--from his height he -can follow their fortunes, their brave struggles, their fortitude to the -very last. He admires that courage, the simplicity of that faith, but -his irony springs from his knowledge of the inevitable end. - -There are, we may thankfully maintain, other possible views of life, and -it is, surely, Conrad’s harshest limitation that he should never be free -from this certain obsession of the vanity of human struggle. So bound -is he by this that he is driven to choose characters who will prove -his faith. We can remember many fine and courageous characters of his -creation, we can remember no single one who is not foredoomed to defeat. -Jim wins, indeed, his victory, but at the close: “And that’s the end. He -passes away under a cloud, inscrutable at heart, forgotten, unforgiven, -and excessively romantic.... He goes away from a living woman to -celebrate his pitiless wedding with a shadowy ideal of conduct.” - {099}Conrad’s ironical smile that has watched with tenderness the -history of Jim’s endeavours, proclaims, at the last, that that pursuit -has been vain--as vain as Stein’s butterflies. - -And, for the rest, as Mr Curle in his study of Conrad has admirably -observed, every character is faced with the enemy for whom he is, by -character, least fitted. Nostromo, whose heart’s desire it is that his -merits should be acclaimed before men, is devoured by the one dragon to -whom human achievements are nothing--lust of treasure. - -M’Whirr, the most unimaginative of men, is opposed by the most -tremendous of God’s splendid terrors and, although he saves his ship -from the storm, so blind is he to the meaning of the things that he has -witnessed that he might as well have never been born. Captain Brierley, -watching the degradation of a fellow-creature from a security that -nothing, it seems, can threaten, is himself caught by that very -degradation.... The Beast in the Jungle is waiting ever ready to -leap--the victim is always in his power. {100}It comes from this -philosophy of life that the qualities in the human soul that Conrad most -definitely admires are blind courage and obedience to duty. His men of -brain--Marlowe, Decoud, Stein--are melancholy and ironic: “If you see -far enough you must see how hopeless the struggle is.” The only way -to be honestly happy is to have no imagination and, because Conrad is -tender at heart and would have his characters happy, if possible, he -chooses men without imagination. Those are the men of the sea whom he -has known and loved. The men of the land see farther than the men of -the sea and must, therefore, be either fools or knaves. Towards Captain -Anthony, towards Captain Lingard he extends his love and pity. For -Verloc, for Ossipon, for old De Barral he has a disgust that is beyond -words. For the Fynes and their brethren he has contempt. For two women -of the land, Winnie Verloc and Mrs Gould, he reserves his love, and for -them alone, but they have, in their hearts, the simplicity, the honesty -of his own sea captains. {101}This then is quite simply his philosophy. -It has no variation or relief. He will not permit his characters -to escape, he will not himself try to draw the soul of a man who is -stronger than Fate. His ironic melancholy does not, tor an instant, -hamper his interest--that is as keen and acute as is the absorption of -any collector of specimens--but at the end of it all, as with his -own Stein: “He says of him that he is ‘preparing to leave all -this: preparing to leave...’ while he waves his hand sadly at his -butterflies.” - -Utterly opposed is it from the philosophy of the one English writer -whom, in all other ways, Conrad most obviously resembles--Robert -Browning. As philosophers they have no possible ground of communication, -save in the honesty that is common to both of them. As artists, both in -their subjects and their treatment of their subjects, they are, in many -ways, of an amazing resemblance, although the thorough investigation -of that resemblance would need far more space than I can give it here. -Browning’s {102}interest in life was derived, on the novelist’s side of -him, from his absorption in the affairs, spiritual and physical, of -men and women; on the poet’s side, in the question again spiritual -and physical, that arose from those affairs. Conrad has not Browning’s -clear-eyed realisation of the necessity of discovering the individual -philosophy that belongs to every individual case--he is too immediately -enveloped in his one overwhelming melancholy analysis. But he has -exactly that eager, passionate pursuit of romance, a romance to be -seized only through the most accurate and honest realism. - -Browning’s realism was born of his excitement at the number and interest -of his discoveries; he chose, for instance, in _Sordello_ the most -romantic of subjects, and, having made his choice, found that there was -such a world of realistic detail in the case that, in his excitement, he -forgot that the rest of the world did not know quite as much as he did. -Is not this exactly what we may say of _Nostromo?_ Mr Chesterton has -written of {103}Browning: “He substituted the street with the green -blind for the faded garden of Watteau, and the ‘blue spirt of a lighted -match’ for the monotony of the evening star.” Conrad has substituted for -the lover serenading his mistress’ window the passion of a middle-aged, -faded woman for her idiot boy, or the elopement of the daughter of a -fraudulent speculator with an elderly, taciturn sea captain. - -The characters upon whom Robert Browning lavished his affection are -precisely Conrad’s characters. Is not Waring Conrad’s man? - -And for the rest, is not Mr Sludge own brother to Verloc and old De -Barrel? Bishop Blougram first cousin to the great Personage in _The -Secret Agent_, Captain Anthony brother to Caponsacchi, Mrs Gould sister -to Pompilia? It is not only that Browning and Conrad both investigate -these characters with the same determination to extract the last word -of truth from the matter, not grimly, but with a thrilling beat of the -heart, it is also that the worlds of these {104}two poets are the same. -How deeply would Nostromo, Decoud, Gould, Monyngham, the Verlocs, Flora -de Barrel, M’Whirr, Jim have interested Browning! Surely Conrad has -witnessed the revelation of Caliban, of Childe Roland, of James Lee’s -wife, of the figures in the Arezzo tragedy, even of that bishop who -ordered his tomb at St Praxed’s Church, with a strange wonder as though -he himself had assisted at these discoveries! - -Finally, _The Ring and the Book_, with its multiplied witnesses, its -statement as a “case” of life, its pursuit of beauty through truth, the -simplicity of the characters of Pompilia, Caponsacchi and the Pope, the -last frantic appeal of Guido, the detail, encrusted thick in the walls -of that superb building--here we can see the highest pinnacle of that -temple that has _Chance, Lord Jim, Nostromo_ amongst its other turrets, -buttresses and towers. - -Conrad is his own master--he has imitated no one, he has created, as -I have already said, his own planet, but the heights to which Browning -carried Romantic-Realism showed {105}the author of _Almayer’s Folly_ the -signs of the road that he was to follow. - -If, as has often been said, Browning was as truly novelist as poet, -may we not now say with equal justice that Conrad is as truly poet as -novelist? - - - - -IV--ROMANCE AND REALISM - - -I - -|THE {106}terms, Romance and Realism, have been used of late years -very largely as a means of escape from this business of the creation of -character. The purely romantic novel may now be said to be, in England -at any rate, absolutely dead. Mr Frank Swinnerton, in his study -of _Robert Louis Stevenson_, said: “Stevenson, reviving the -never-very-prosperous romance of England, created a school which has -brought romance to be the sweepings of an old costume-chest;... if -romance is to be conventional in a double sense, if it spring not from a -personal vision of life, but is only a tedious virtuosity, a pretence, -a conscious toy, romance as an art is dead. The art was jaded when Reade -finished his vocifer{107}ous carpet-beating; but it was not dead. And if -it is dead, Stevenson killed it!” - -We may differ very considerably from Mr Swinnerton with regard to -his estimate of Stevenson’s present and future literary value without -denying that the date of the publication of _St Ives_ was also the date -of the death of the purely romantic novel. - -But, surely, here, as Mr Swinnerton himself infers, the term “Romantic” - is used in the limited and truncated idea that has formed, lately the -popular idea of Romance. In exactly the same way the term “Realism” has, -recently, been most foolishly and uncritically handicapped. Romance, in -its modern use, covers everything that is removed from reality: “I like -romances,” we hear the modern reader say, “because they take me away -from real life, which I desire to forget.” In the same way Realism is -defined by its enemies as a photographic enumeration of unimportant -facts by an observant pessimist. “I like realism,” admirers of a certain -order of novel {108}exclaim, “because it is so like life. It tells me -just what I myself see every day--I know where I am.” - -Nevertheless, impatient though we may be of these utterly false ideas -of Romance and Realism, a definition of those terms that will satisfy -everyone is almost impossible. I cannot hope to achieve so exclusive -an ambition--I can only say that to myself Realism is the study of -life with all the rational faculties of observation, reason and -reminiscence--Romance is the study of life with the faculties of -imagination. I do not mean that Realism may not be emotional, -poetic, even lyrical, but it is based always upon truth perceived and -recorded---it is the essence ol observation. In the same way Romance -may be, indeed must be, accurate and defined in its own world, but its -spirit is the spirit of imagination, working often upon observation and -sometimes simply upon inspiration. It is, at any rate, understood here -that the word Romance does not, for a moment, imply a necessary -divorce from reality, nor does {109}Realism imply a detailed and dusty -preference for morbid and unagreeable subjects. It is possible for -Romance to be as honestly and clearly perceptive as Realism, but it is -not so easy for it to be so because imagination is more difficult -of discipline than observation. It is possible for Realism to be as -eloquent and potential as Romance, although it cannot so easily achieve -eloquence because of its fear of deserting truth. Moreover, with regard -to the influence of foreign literature upon the English novel, it may -be suggested that the influence of the French novel, which was at its -strongest between the years of 1885 and 1895, was towards Realism, and -that the influence of the Russian novel, which has certainly been -very strongly marked in England during the last years, is all towards -Romantic-Realism. If we wished to know exactly what is meant by -Romantic-Realism, such a novel as _The Brothers Karamazov_, such a -play as _The Cherry Orchard_ are there before us, as the best possible -examples. We might say, in a word, that _Karamazov_ has, in the England -{110}of 1915, taken the place that was occupied, in 1890, by _Madame -Bovary_.... - - -II - -It is Joseph Conrad whose influence is chiefly responsible for this -development in the English novel. Just as, in the early nineties, -Mr Henry James and Mr Rudyard Kipling, the one potential, the other -kinetic, influenced, beyond all contemporary novelists, the minds of -their younger generation, so to-day, twenty-five years later, do Mr -Joseph Conrad and Mr H. G. Wells, the one potential, the other kinetic, -hold that same position. - -Joseph Conrad, from the very first, influenced though he was by the -French novel, showed that Realism alone was not enough for him. That is -to say that, in presenting the case of Almayer, it was not enough for -him merely to state as truthfully as possible the facts. Those facts, -sordid as they are, make the story of Almayer’s degradation sufficiently -realistic, when it is merely {111}recorded and perceived by any -observer. But upon these recorded facts Conrad’s imagination, without -for a moment deserting the truth, worked, beautifying, ennobling it, -giving it pity and terror, above all putting it mto relation with the -whole universe, the whole history of the cycle of life and death. - -As I have said, the Romantic novel, in its simplest form, was used, very -often, by writers who wished to escape from the business of the creation -of character. It had not been used for that purpose by Sir Walter Scott, -who was, indeed, the first English Romantic-Realist, but it was so used -by his successors, who found a little optimism, a little adventure, a -little colour and a little tradition go a long way towards covering the -required ground. - -Conrad had, from the first, a poet’s--that is to say, a romantic--mind, -and his determination to use that romance realistically was simply his -determination to justify the full play of his romantic mind in the eyes -of all honest men. {112}In that intention he has absolutely succeeded; -he has not abated one jot of his romance--_Nostromo, Lord Jim, Heart -of Darkness_ are amongst the most romantic things in all our -literature--but the last charge that any critic can make against him is -falsification, whether of facts, of inference or of consequences. - -The whole history of his development has for its key-stone this -determination to save his romance by his reality, to extend his reality -by his romance. He found in English fiction little that could assist him -in this development; the Russian novelists were to supply him with his -clue. This whole question of Russian influence is difficult to define, -but that Conrad has been influenced by Turgéniev a little and by -Dostoievsky very considerably, cannot be denied. _Crime and Punishment, -The Idiot, The Possessed, The Brothers Karamazov_ are romantic realism -at the most astonishing heights that this development of the novel is -ever likely to attain. We will never see again heroes of the Prince -Myshkin, Dmitri Karamazov, {113}Nicolas Stavrogin build, men so real to -us that no change of time or place, age or sickness can take them from -us, men so beautifully lit with the romantic passion of Dostoievsky’s -love of humanity that they seem to warm the whole world, as we know it, -with the fire of their charity. That power of creating figures typical -as well as individual has been denied to Conrad. Captain Anthony, -Nostromo, Jim do not belong to the whole world, nor do they escape the -limitations and confinements that their presentation as “cases” involves -on them. Moreover, Conrad does not love humanity. He feels pity, -tenderness, admiration, but love, except for certain of his sea heroes, -never, and even with his sea heroes it is love built on his scorn of -the land. Dostoievsky scorned no one and nothing; as relentless in his -pursuit of the truth as Stendhal or Flaubert, he found humanity, as -he investigated it, beautiful because of its humanity--Conrad finds -humanity pitiable because of its humanity. - -Nevertheless he has been influenced by {114}the Russian writer -continuously and sometimes obviously. In at least one novel, _Under -Western Eyes_, the influence has led to imitation. For that reason, -perhaps, that novel is the least vital of all his books, and we feel as -though Dostoievsky had given him Razumov to see what he could make of -him, and had remained too overwhelmingly curious an onlooker to allow -independent creation. What, however, Conrad has in common with the -creator of Raskolnikov is his thrilling pursuit of the lives, the -hearts, the minutest details of his characters. Conrad alone of all -English novelists shares this zest with the great Russian. Dostoievsky -found his romance in his love of his fellow-beings, Conrad finds his in -his love of beauty, his poet’s cry for colour, but their realism they -find together in the hearts of men--and they find it not as Flaubert, -that they make of it a perfect work of art, not as Turgéniev, that they -may extract from it a flower of poignant beauty, not as Tolstoi, that -they may, from it, found a gospel--simply they pursue their quest -{115}because the breathless interest of the pursuit is stronger than -they. They have, both of them, created characters simply because -characters demanded to be created. We feel that Emma Bovary was -dragged, painfully, arduously, against all the strength of her -determination, out of the shades where she was lurking. Myshkin, the -Karamazovs, and, in their own degree, Nostromo, Almayer, M’Whirr, -demanded that they should be flung upon the page. - -Instead of seizing upon Romance as a means of avoiding character, he -has triumphantly forced it to aid him in the creation of the lives that, -through him, demand existence. This may be said to be the great thing -that Conrad has done for the English novel--he has brought the zest of -creation back into it; the French novelists used life to perfect their -art--the Russian novelists used art to liberate their passion for life. -That at this moment in Russia the novel has lost that zest, that the -work of Kouprin, Artzybashev, Sologub, Merejkovsky, Andreiev, shows -exhaustion and sterility {116}means nothing; the stream will soon ran -full again. Meanwhile we, in England, know once more what it is to feel, -in the novel, the power behind the novelist, to be ourselves in the grip -of a force that is not afraid of romance nor ashamed of realism, that -cares for life as life and not as a means of proving the necessity for -form, the danger of too many adjectives, the virtues of the divorce laws -or the paradise of free love. - - -III - -Finally, what will be the effect of the work of Joseph Conrad upon the -English novel of the future? Does this Romantic-Realism that he has -provided for us show any signs of influencing that future? I think that -it does. In the work of all of the more interesting younger English -novelists--in the work of Mr E. M. Forster, Mr D. H. Lawrence, Mr J. -D. Beresford, Mr W. L. George, Mr Frank Swinnerton, Air Gilbert Gannan, -Miss Viola Meynell, Mr Brett Young--this influence is to be detected. -{117}Even with such avowed realists as Mr Beresford, Mr George and Mr -Swinnerton the realism is of a nature very different from the realism -of even ten years ago, as can be seen at once by comparing so recent -a novel as Mr Swinnerton’s _On the Staircase_ with Mr Arnold Bennett’s -_Sacred and Profane Love_, or Mr Galsworthy’s _Man of Property_--and Mr -E. M. Forster is a romantic-realist of most curious originality, whose -_Longest Journey_ and _Howard’s End_ may possibly provide the historian -of English literature with dates as important as the publication of -_Almayer’s Folly_ in 1895. The answer to this question does not properly -belong to this essay. - -It is, at any rate, certain that neither the old romance nor the old -realism can return. We have been shown in _Nostromo_ something that has -the colour of _Treasure Island_ and the reality of _New Grub Street_. -If, on the one hand, the pessimists lament that the English novel is -dead, that everything that can be done has been done, there is, surely, -on the other hand, some justification for the optimists who believe that -at few periods in {118}English literature has the novel shown more signs -of a thrilling and original future. - -For signs of the possible development of Conrad himselt one may glance -for a moment at his last novel, _Victory_. - -The conclusion of _Chance_ and the last volume of short stories had -shown that there was some danger lest romance should divorce him, -ultimately, from reality. _Victory_, splendid tale though it is, does -not entirely reassure us. The theme of the book is the pursuit of -almost helpless uprightness and innocence by almost helpless evil and -malignancy; that is to say that the strength and virtue of Heyst and -Lena are as elemental and independent of human will and effort as -the villainy and slime of Mr Jones and Ricardo. Conrad has here then -returned to his old early demonstration that nature is too strong for -man and I feel as though, in this book, he had intended the whole affair -to be blown, finally, sky-high by some natural volcanic eruption. He -prepares for that eruption and when, for some reason or another, -that elemental catastrophe is pre{119}vented he consoles himself -by strewing the beach of his island with the battered corpses of his -characters. It is in such a wanton conclusion, following as it does -immediately upon the finest, strongest and most beautiful thing in the -whole of Conrad--the last conversation between Heyst and Lena--that we -see this above-mentioned divorce from reality. We see it again in the -more fantastic characteristics of Mr Jones and Ricardo, in the presence -of the Orang Outang, and in other smaller and less important effects. -At the same time his realism, when he pleases, as in the arrival of the -boat of the thirst maddened trio on the island beach, is as magnificent -in its austerity and truth as ever it was. - -Will he allow his imagination to carry him wildly into fantasy and -incredibility? He has not, during these last years, exerted the -discipline and restraint that were once his law. - -Nevertheless, at the last, when one looks back over twenty years, -from the _Almayer’s Folly_ of 1895 to the _Victory_ of 1915, one -{120}realises that it was, for the English novel, no mean nor -insignificant fortune that brought the author of those books to our -shores to give a fresh impetus to the progress of our literature and to -enrich our lives with a new world of character and high adventure. - - - - -A SHORT BIBLIOGRAPHY OF JOSEPH CONRAD’S PRINCIPAL WRITINGS - -[The date is given of the first edition of each hook. New edition -signifies a change of format or transference to a different publisher.] - -Almayer’s Folly. A Story of an Eastern River (Unwin). 1895. New -editions. (Nash). 1904; (Unwin). 1909, 1914, 1915. - -An Outcast of the Islands (Unwin). 1896, New edition, 1914. - -The Nigger of the “Narcissus”: A Tale of the Sea (Heinemann). 1897. New -edition, 1910. - -Tales of Unrest (Unwin). 1898. New edition, 1909. - -Lord Jim: A Tale (Blackwood). 1900. New edition, 1914. - -The Inheritors: An Extravagant Story. By Joseph Conrad and Ford M. -Hueffer (Heinemann). 1901. - -Youth: a Narrative, and Two Other Stories (Black wood). 1902. - -Typhoon and Other Stories (Heinemann). 1903. New edition, 1912. - -Romance: A Novel. By Joseph Conrad and Ford Madox Hueffer (Smith, -Elder). 1903. New edition (Aelson). 1909. - -Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard (Harder). 1904. The Mirror of the Sea: -Memories and Impressions (Methuen). 1903. New editions, 1913, 1915. The -Secret Agent: A Simple Tale (Methuen). 1907. - -New edition, 1914. - -A Set of Six: Tales (Methuen). 1908 Under Western Eyes (Methuen). 1911. -New edition, 1915. - -Some Reminiscences (Nash). 1912. - -Twixt Land and Sea: Tales (Dent). 1912. New edition, 1914. - -Chance: A Tale in Two Parts (Methuen). 1914. Within the Tides: Tales -(Dent). 1915. - -Victory: An Island Tale (Methuen). 1915. - - - - -AMERICAN BIBLIOGRAPHY - -{123}Almayer’s Folly: A Story of an Eastern River (_Macmillan_). 1895. -New editions, 1912; (_Doubleday_). 1911. - -An Outcast of the Islands (_Appleton_). 1896. New edition (_Doubleday_). -1914. - -Children of the Sea: A Tale of the Forecastle (_Dodd, Mead_). 1897. -New edition, 1912. New edition under English title: “The Nigger of the -‘Narcissus’” (_Doubleday_). 1914. - -Tales of Unrest (_Scribner_). 1898. - -Lord Jim (_Doubleday_) 1900. New edition, 1914. - -The Inheritors. By Joseph Conrad and Ford M. Hueffer (_McClure Co._). -1901. - -Typhoon (_Putman_). 1902. New edition (_Doubleday_). 1914. - -Youth, and two Other Stories (_McClure Co_. Afterwards transferred to -_Doubleday_). 1903. - -Falk: Amy Foster: Tomorrow [Three Stories] (_McClure Co._). 1903. New -edition (_Doubleday_). 1914. - -Romance. By Joseph Conrad and Ford Madox Hueffer (_McClure Co_. -Afterwards transferred to _Doubleday_). 1904. - -Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard (_Harper_), 1904. {124}The Mirror of -the Sea: Memories and Impressions (_Harper_). 1906. - -The Secret Agent: A Simple Tale (_Harper_). 1907. - -A Point of Honour: A Military Tale (_McClure Co_. Afterwards transferred -to _Doubleday_). 1908. Under Western Eyes: A Novel (_Harper_). 1911. - -A Personal Retold (_Harper_). 1912. - -‘Twist Land and Sea: Tales (_Doran_). 1912. New edition (_Doubleday_). -1911. - -Chance: A Tale in Two Parts (_Doubleday_). 1914. - -A Set of Six [Tales: one, “The Duel.” previously issued as “A Point of -Honour”] (_Doubleday_). 1915. - -Victory: An Island Tale (_Doubleday_). 1915. - -Within the Tides: Tales (_Doubleday_). 1916. - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Joseph Conrad, by Hugh Walpole - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOSEPH CONRAD *** - -***** This file should be named 52453-0.txt or 52453-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/4/5/52453/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you’ll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation.” - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. - -The Foundation’s principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/52453-0.zip b/old/52453-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 7222380..0000000 --- a/old/52453-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52453-8.txt b/old/52453-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index bf8b1b9..0000000 --- a/old/52453-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2420 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Joseph Conrad, by Hugh Walpole - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Joseph Conrad - -Author: Hugh Walpole - -Release Date: June 30, 2016 [EBook #52453] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOSEPH CONRAD *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - - - - -JOSEPH CONRAD - -By Hugh Walpole - -New York - -Henry Holt And Company - -1916 - -[Illustration: 0001] - -[Illustration: 0008] - -[Illustration: 0009] - -TO - -SIR SIDNEY COLVIN - - - - -I--BIOGRAPHY - - -I - - -|TO any{001} reader of the books of Joseph Conrad it must be at once -plain that his immediate experiences and impressions of life have gone -very directly to the making of his art. It may happen often enough that -an author's artistic life is of no importance to the critic and that -his dealing with it is merely a personal impertinence and curiosity, but -with the life of Joseph Conrad the critic has something to do, because, -again and again, this writer deliberately evokes the power of personal -reminiscence, charging it with the burden of his philosophy and the -creation of his characters. - -With the details of his life we cannot, in any way, be concerned, but -with the three backgrounds against whose form and colour {008}his art -has been placed we have some compulsory connection. - -Joseph Conrad (Teodor Josef Konrad Karzeriowski) was born on 6th -December 1857, and his birthplace was the Ukraine in the south of -Poland. In 1862 his father, who had been concerned in the last Polish -rebellion, was banished to Vologda. The boy lived with his mother -and father there until his mother died, when he was sent back to the -Ukraine. In 1870 his lather died. - -Conrad was then sent to school in Cracow and there he remained until -1874, when, following an absolutely compelling impulse, he went to sea. -In the month of May, 1878, he first landed on English ground; he knew -at that time no English but learnt rapidly, and in the autumn of 1878 -joined the _Duke of Sutherland_ as ordinary seaman. He became a -Master in the English Merchant Service in 1884, in which year he was -naturalised. In 1894 he left the sea, whose servant he had been for -nearly twenty years: he sent the manuscript of a novel that he had been -writing at various periods during {009}his sea life to Mr Fisher Unwin. -With that publisher's acceptance of _Almayer's Folly_ the third period -of his life began. Since then his history has been the history of his -books. - -Looking for an instant at the dramatic contrast and almost ironical -relationship of these three backgrounds--Poland, the Sea, the inner -security and tradition of an English country-side--one can realise what -they may make of an artist. That early Polish atmosphere, viewed through -all the deep light and high shade of a remembered childhood, may be -enough to give life and vigour to any poet's temperament. The romantic -melancholy born of early years in such an atmosphere might well plant -deeply in any soul the ironic contemplation of an impossible freedom. - -Growing into youth in a land whose farthest bounds were held by unlawful -tyranny, Conrad may well have contemplated the sea as the one unlimited -monarchy of freedom and, even although he were too young to realise what -impulses {010}those were that drove him, he may have felt that space and -size and the force of a power stronger than man were the only conditions -of possible liberty. He sought those conditions, found them and clung to -them; he found, too, an ironic pity for men who could still live slaves -and prisoners to other men when to them also such freedom was possible. -That ironic pity he never afterwards lost, and the romance that was in -him received a mighty impulse from that contrast that he was always now -to contemplate. He discovered the Sea and paid to her at once his debt -of gratitude and obedience. He thought it no hard thing to obey her when -he might, at the same time, so honestly admire her and she has remained -for him, as an artist, the only personality that he has been able -wholeheartedly to admire. He found in her something stronger than man -and he must have triumphed in the contemplation of the dominion that she -could exercise, if she would, over the tyrannies that he had known in -his childhood. {011}He found, too, in her service, the type of man -who, most strongly, appealed to him. He had known a world composed of -threats, fugitive rebellions, wild outbursts of defiance, inefficient -struggles against tyranny, he was in the company now of those who -realised so completely the relationship of themselves and their duty to -their master and their service that there was simply nothing to be said -about it. England had, perhaps, long ago called to him with her promise -of freedom, and now on an English ship he realised the practice and -performance of that freedom, indulged in, as it was, with the fewest -possible words. Moreover, with his fund of romantic imagination, he must -have been pleased by the contrast of his present company, men who, by -sheer lack of imagination, ruled and served the most imaginative force -in nature. The wonders of the sea, by day and by night, were unnoticed -by his companions, and he admired their lack of vision. Too much vision -had driven his country under the heel of Tyranny, had bred in himself a -despair of {012}any possible freedom for far-seeing men; now he was a -citizen of a world where freedom reigned because men could not perceive -how it could be otherwise; the two sides of the shield were revealed to -him. - -Then, towards the end of his twenty years' service of the sea, the -creative impulse in him demanded an outlet. He wrote, at stray moments -of opportunity during several years, a novel, wrote it for his pleasure -and diversion, sent it finally to a publisher with all that lack of -confidence in posts and publishers that every author, who cares for -his creations, will feel to the end of his days. He has said that if -_Almayer's Folly_ had been refused he would never have written again, -but we may well believe that, let the fate of that book be what it -might, the energy and surprise of his discovery of the sea must -have been declared to the world. _Almayer's Folly_, however, was not -rejected; its publication caused _The Spectator_ to remark: "The name of -Mr Conrad is new to us, but it appears to us as if he might become the -Kipling of the Malay Archipelago." He {013}had, therefore, encouragement -of the most dignified kind from the beginning. He himself, however, may -have possibly regarded that day in 1897 when Henley accepted _The Nigger -of the Narcissus_ for _The New Review_ as a more important date in his -new career. That date may serve for the commencement of the third period -of his adventure. - -The quiet atmosphere of the England that he had adopted made the final, -almost inevitable contrast with the earlier periods. With such a country -behind him it was possible for him to contemplate in peace the whole -"case" of his earlier life. It was as a "case" that he saw it, a "case" -that was to produce all those other "cases" that were his books. This -has been their history. - -II - -His books, also, find naturally a division into three parts; the first -period, beginning with _Almayer's Folly_ in 1895, ended with _Lord -Jim_ in 1900. The second contains {014}the two volumes of _Youth_ and -_Typhoon_, the novel _Romance_ that he wrote in collaboration with Ford -Madox Hueffer, and ends with _Nostromo_, published in 1903. The third -period begins, after a long pause, in 1907 with _The Secret Agent_, and -receives its climax with the remarkable popularity of _Chance_ in 1914, -and _Victory_ (1915). - -His first period was a period of struggle, struggle with a foreign -language, struggle with a technique that was always, from the point of -view of the "schools," to remain too strong for him, struggles with the -very force and power of his reminiscences that were urging themselves -upon him, now at the moment of their contemplated freedom, like wild -beasts behind iron bars. _Almayer's Folly_ and _The Outcast of the -Islands_ (the first of these is sequel to the second) were remarkable in -the freshness of their discovery of a new world. It was not that their -world had not been found before, but rather that Conrad, by the force of -his own individual discovery, proclaimed his find with a new voice and -a new vigour. In the {015}character of Almayer, of Aissa, of Willems, of -Bahalatchi and Abdulla there was a new psychology that gave promise of -great things. Nevertheless these early stories were overcharged with -atmosphere, were clumsy in their development and conveyed in then style -a sense of rhetoric and lack of ease. His vision of his background was -pulled out beyond its natural intensity and his own desire to make -it overwhelming was so obvious as to frighten the creature into a -determination to be, simply out of malicious perversity, anything else. - -These two novels were followed by a volume of short stories, _Tales of -Unrest_, that reveal, quite nakedly, Conrad's difficulties. One study in -this book, _The Return_, with its redundancies and overemphasis, is the -crudest parody on its author and no single tale in the volume succeeds. -It was, however, as though, with these efforts, Conrad flung himself -free, for ever, from his apprenticeship; there appeared in 1898 -what remains perhaps still his most perfect work, _The Nigger of the -Narcissus_. This {015}was a story entirely of the sea, of the voyage of -a ship from port to port and of the influence upon that ship and upon -the human souls that she contained, of the approaching shadow of death, -an influence ironical, melancholy, never quite horrible, and always -tender and humorous. Conrad must himself have loved, beyond all other -vessels, the _Narcissus_. Never again, except perhaps in _The Mirror of -the Sea_, was he to be so happily at his ease with any of his subjects. -The book is a gallery of remarkably distinct and authentic portraits, -the atmosphere is held in perfect restraint, and the overhanging theme -is never, for an instant, abandoned. It is, above all, a record of -lovingly cherished reminiscence. Of cherished reminiscence also was the -book that closed the first period of his work, _Lord Jim_. This was to -remain, until the publication of _Chance_, his most popular novel. It -is the story of a young Englishman's loss of honour in a moment of panic -and his victorious recovery. The first half of the book is a finely -sustained development of a {016}vividly remembered scene, the second -half has the inevitability of a moral idea pursued to its romantic end -rather than the inevitability of life. Here then in 1900 Conrad had -worked himself free of the underground of the jungle and was able to -choose his path. His choice was still dictated by the subjects that -he remembered most vividly, but upon these rewards of observation his -creative genius was working. James Wait, Donkin, Jim, Marlowe were men -whom he had known, but men also to whom he had given a new birth. - -There appeared now in _Youth, Heart of Darkness_ and _Typhoon_ three of -the finest short stories in the English language, work of reminiscence, -but glowing at its heart with all the lyrical exultation and flame of -a passion that had been the ruling power of a life that was now to be -abandoned. That salutation of farewell is in _Youth_ and its evocation -of the East, in _The Heart of Darkness_ and its evocation of the forests -that are beyond civilisation, in _Typhoon_ and its evocation of the -sea. He was never, after {018}these tales, to write again of the sea -as though he were still sailing on it. From this time he belonged, with -regret, and with some ironic contempt, to the land. - -This second period closed with the production of a work that was -deliberately created rather than reminiscent, _Nostromo_. Conrad may -have known Dr Monyngham, Decoud, Mrs Could, old Viola; but; they became -stronger than he and, in their completed personalities, owed no man -anything for their creation. There is much to be said about _Nostromo_, -in many ways the greatest of all Conrad's works, but, for the moment, -one would only say that its appearance (it appeared first, of all -ironical births, in a journal--_T.P.'s Weekly_--and astonished and -bewildered its readers week by week, by its determination not to finish -and yield place to something simpler) caused no comment whatever, that -its critics did not understand it, and its author's own admirers were -puzzled by its unlikeness to the earlier sea stories. - -_Nostromo_ was followed by a pause--one {019}can easily imagine that -its production did, for a moment, utterly exhaust its creator. When, -however, in 1907 appeared _The Secret Agent_, a new attitude was most -plainly visible. He was suddenly detached, writing now of "cases" that -interested him as an investigator of human life, but called from his -heart no burning participation of experience. He is tender towards -Winnie Verloc and her old mother, the two women in _The Secret Agent_, -but he studies them quite dispassionately. That love that clothed Jim -so radiantly, that fierce contempt that in _An Outcast of the Islands_ -accompanied Willems to his degraded death, is gone. We have the finer -artist, but we have lost something of that earlier compelling interest. -_The Secret Agent_ is a tale of secret service in London; it contains -the wonderfully created figure of Verloc and it expresses, to the full, -Conrad's hatred of those rows and rows of bricks and mortar that are so -completely accepted by unimaginative men. In 1911 _Under Western Eyes_ -spoke strongly of a Russian influence {020}Turgniev and Dostoievsky had -too markedly their share in the creation of Razumov and the cosmopolitan -circle in Geneva. Moreover, it is a book whose heart is cold. - -A volume of short stories, _A Set of Six_, illustrating still more -emphatically Conrad's new detachment, appeared in 1908 and is remarkable -chiefly for an ironically humorous story of the Napoleonic wars--_The -Duel_--a tale too long, perhaps, but admirable for its sustained note. -In 1912 he seemed, in another volume, _'Twixt Land and Sea_, to unite -some of his earlier glow with all his later mastery of his method. _A -Smile, of Fortune_ and _The Secret Sharer_ are amazing in the beauty of -retrospect that they leave behind them in the soul of the reader. The -sea is once more revealed to us, but it is revealed now as something -that Conrad has conquered. His contact with the land has taken from him -something of his earlier intimacy with his old mistress. Nevertheless -_The Secret Sharer_ is a most marvellous story, marvellous in its -completeness of theme and treatment, marvellous in the {021}contrast -between the confined limitations of its stage and the vast implications -of its moral idea. Finally in 1914 appeared _Chance_, by no means the -finest of his books, but catching the attention and admiration of that -wider audience who had remained indifferent to the force and beauty of -_The Nigger of the Narcissus_, of _Lord Jim_, of _Nostromo_. With the -popular success of _Chance_ the first period of his work is closed. On -the possible results of that popularity, their effect on the artist -and on the whole world of men, one must offer, here at any rate, no -prophecy. - -III - -To any reader who cares, seriously, to study the art of Joseph Conrad, -no better advice could be offered than that he should begin with the -reading of the two volumes that have been omitted from the preceding -list. _Some Reminiscences_ and _The Mirror of the Sea_ demand -consideration on the threshold of any survey of this author's work, -because {022}they reveal, from a personal, wilful and completely -anarchistic angle, the individuality that can only be discovered, -afterwards, objectively, in the process of creation. - -In both these books Conrad is, quite simply, himself for anyone who -cares to read. They are books dictated by no sense of precedent nor form -nor fashion. They are books of their own kind, even more than are the -novels. _Some Reminiscences_ has only _Tristram Shandy_ for its rival in -the business of getting everything done without moving a step forward. -_The Mirror of the Sea_ has no rival at all. - -We may suppose that the author did really intend to write his -reminiscences when he began. He found a moment that would make, a good -starting-point, a moment in the writing of his first book, _Almayer's -Folly_, at the conclusion or, more truly, cessation of _Some -Reminiscences_, that moment is still hanging in mid-air, the writing -of _Almayer_ has not proceeded two lines farther down the stage, the -maid-servant, is still standing in the doorway, the hands of {023}the -clock have covered five minutes of the dial. What has occurred is simply -that the fascination of the subject has been too strong. It is of the -very essence of Conrad's art that one thing so powerfully suggests to -him another that to start him on anything at all is a tragedy, because -life is so short. His reminiscences would be easy enough to command -would they only not take on a life of their own and shout at their -unfortunate author: "Ah! yes. I'm interesting, of course, but don't you -remember...?" - -The whole adventure of writing his first book is crowded with incident, -not because he considers it a wonderful book or himself a marvellous -figure, but simply because any incident in the world must, in his eyes, -be crowded about with other incidents. There is the pen one wrote the -book with, that pen that belonged to poor old Captain B-------- of the -_Nonsuch_ who... or there is the window just behind the writing-table -that looked out into the river, that river that reminds one of the -year '88 when... - -In the course of his thrilling voyage of {024}discovery we are, by a -kind of most blessed miracle, told something of Mr Nicholas B. and of -the author's own most fascinating uncle. We even, by an extension of the -miracle, learn something of Conrad as ship's officer (this the merest -glimpse) and as a visitor to his uncle's house in Poland. - -So by chance are these miraculous facts and glimpses that we catch at -them with eager, extended hands, praying, imploring them to stay; indeed -those glimpses may seem to us the more wonderful in that they have been, -by us, only partially realised. - -Nevertheless, in spite of its eager incoherence, at the same time both -breathless, and, by the virtue of its author's style, solemn, we do -obtain, in addition to our glimpses of Poland and the sea, one or two -revelations of Conrad himself. Our revelations come to us partly through -our impression of his own zest for life, a zest always ironical, -often sceptical, but always eager and driven by a throbbing impulse of -vitality. Partly also through certain deliberate utterances. He tells -us: {025}"Those who read me know my conviction that the world, the -temporal world, rests on a few very simple ideas; so simple that they -must be as old as the hills. It rests, notably, amongst others, on the -idea of Fidelity. At a time when nothing which is not revolutionary in -some way or other can expect to attract much attention I have not been -revolutionary in my writings." (Page 20.) - -Or again: - -"All claim to special righteousness awakens in me that scorn and anger -from which a philosophical mind should be free." (Page 21.) - -Or again: - -"Even before the most seductive reveries I have remained mindful of that -sobriety of interior life, that asceticism of sentiment, in which alone -the naked form of truth, such as one conceives it, such as one feels it, -can be rendered without shame." (Page 194.) - -This simplicity, this fidelity, this hatred of self-assertion and -self-satisfaction, this sobriety--these qualities do give some -implication of the colour of the work that will {026}arise from them; -and when to these qualities we add that before-mentioned zest and -vigour we must have some true conception of the nature of the work that -he was to do. - -It is for this that _Some Reminiscences_ is valuable. To read it as a -detached work, to expect from it the amiable facetiousness of a book -of modern memories or the heavy authoritative coherence of the _My -Autobiography_ or _My Life_ of some eminent scientist or theologian, is -to be most grievously disappointed. - -If the beginning is bewilderment the end is an impression of crowding, -disordered life, of a tapestry richly dark, with figures woven into the -very thread of it and yet starting to life with an individuality all -their own. No book reveals more clearly the reasons both of Conrad's -faults and of his merits. No book of his is more likely by reason of its -honesty and simplicity to win him true friends. As a work of art there -is almost everything to be said against it, except that it has that -supreme gift that remains, at the end, almost all that we ask of any -work of {027}art, overwhelming vitality. But it is formless, ragged, -incoherent, inconclusive, a fragment of eager, vivid, turbulent -reminiscence poured into a friend's ear in a moment of sudden -confidence. That may or may not be the best way to conduct -reminiscences; the book remains a supremely intimate, engaging and -enlightening introduction to its author. - -With _The Mirror of the Sea_ we are on very different ground. As I have -already said, this is Conrad's happiest book--indeed, with the possible -exception of _The Nigger of the Narcissus_, his only happy book. He -is happy because he is able, for a moment, to forget his distrust, his -dread, his inherent ironical pessimism. He is here permitting himself -the whole range of his enthusiasm and admiration, and behind that -enthusiasm there is a quiet, sure confidence that is strangely at -variance with the distrust of his later novels. - -The book seems at first sight to be a collection of almost haphazard -papers, with such titles as _Landfalls and Departures_, {028}_Overdue -and Missing, Rulers of East and West, The Nursery of the Craft_. -No reader however, can conclude it without having conveyed to him a -strangely binding impression of Unity. He has been led, it will seem to -him, mto the very heart of the company of those who know the Sea as she -really is, he has been made free of a great order. - -The foundation of his intimacy springs from three sources--the majesty, -power and cruelty of the Sea herself, the homely reality of the lives of -the men who serve her, the vibrating, beautiful life of the ships that -sail upon her. This is the Trilogy that holds in its hands the whole life -and pageant of the sea; it is because Conrad holds all three elements in -exact and perfect balance that this book has its unique value, its power -both of realism, for this is the life of man, and of romance, which is -the life of the sea. - -Conrad's attitude to the Sea herself, in this book, is one of lyrical -and passionate worship. He sees, with all the vivid accuracy of his -realism, her deceits, her {029}cruelties, her inhuman disregard of the -lives of men, but, finally, her glory is enough for him. He will write -of her like this: - -"The sea--this truth must be confessed--has no generosity. No display of -manly qualities--courage, hardihood, endurance, faithfulness--has ever -been known to touch its irresponsible consciousness of power. The ocean -has the conscienceless temper of a savage autocrat spoiled by much -adulation. He cannot brook the slightest appearance of defiance, and has -remained the irreconcilable enemy of ships and men ever since ships and -men had the unheard-of audacity to go afloat together in the face of -his frown... the most amazing wonder of the deep is its unfathomable -cruelty." - -Nevertheless she holds him her most willing slave and he is that because -he believes that she alone in all the world is worthy to indulge this -cruelty. She positively "brings it off," this assertion of her right, -and once he is assured of that, he will yield absolute obedience. In -this worship of the Sea and the winds that rouse her he allows himself -a {030}lyrical freedom that he was afterwards to check. He was never -again, not even in _Typhoon_ and _Youth_, to write with such free and -spontaneous lyricism as in his famous passage about the "West Wind." - -_The Mirror of the Sea_ forms then the best possible introduction -to Conrad's work, because it attests, more magnificently and more -confidently than anything else that he has written, his faith and his -devotion. It presents also, however, in its treatment of the second -element of his subject, the men on the ships, many early sketches of the -characters whom he, both before and afterwards, developed so fully in -his novels. About these same men there are certain characteristics to -be noticed, characteristics that must be treated more fully in a later -analysis of Conrad's creative power, but that nevertheless demand some -mention here as witnesses of the emotions, the humours, the passions -that he, most naturally, observes. It is, in the first place, to -be marked that almost all the men upon the sea, from "poor Captain -B--------, who used {031}to suffer from sick headaches, in his young -days, every time he was approaching a coast," to the dramatic Dominic -("from the slow, imperturbable gravity of that broad-chested man -you would think he had never smiled in his life"), are silent and -thoughtful. Granted this silence, Conrad in his half-mournful, -half-humorous survey, is instantly attracted by any possible contrast. -Captain B------- dying in his home, with two grave, elderly women -sitting beside him in the quiet room, "his eyes resting fondly upon the -faces in the room, upon the pictures on the wall, upon all the familiar -objects of that home whose abiding and clear image must have flashed -often on his memory in times of stress and anxiety at sea"--"poor -P--------," with "his cheery temper, his admiration for the jokes in -_Punch_, his little oddities--like his strange passion for borrowing -looking-glasses, for instance"--that captain who "did everything with an -air which put your attention on the alert and raised your expectations, -but the result somehow was always on stereotyped {032}lines, -unsuggestive, empty of any lesson that one could lay to heart"--that -other captain in whom "through a touch of self-seeking that modest -artist of solid merit became untrue to his temperament"--here are little -sketches for those portraits that afterwards we are to know so well, -Marlowe, Captain M'Whirr, Captain Lingard, Captain Mitchell and many -others. Here we may fancy that his eye lingers as though in the mere -enumeration of little oddities and contrasted qualities he sees such -themes, such subjects, such "cases" that it is hard, almost beyond -discipline, to leave them. Nevertheless they have to be left. He has -obtained his broader contrast by his juxtaposition of the curious -muddled jumble of the human life against the broad, august power of the -Sea--that is all that his present subject demands, that is his theme and -his picture. - -Not all his theme, however; there remains the third element in it, the -soul of the ship. It is, perhaps, after all, with the life of the ship -that _The Mirror of The Sea_, ultimately, has most to do. {033}As other -men write of the woman they have loved, so does Conrad write of his -ships. He sees them, in this book that is so especially dedicated -to their pride and beauty, coloured with a fine glow of romance, -but nevertheless he realises them with all the accurate detail of a -technician who describes his craft. You may learn of the raising and -letting go of an anchor, and he will tell the journalists of their -crime in speaking of "casting" an anchor when the true technicality is -"brought up"--"to an anchor" understood. In the chapter on "Yachts" he -provides as much technical detail as any book of instruction need demand -and then suddenly there come these sentences--"the art of handling -slips is finer, perhaps, than the art of handling men."... "A ship is a -creature which we have brought into the world, as it were on purpose to -keep us up to mark." - -Indeed it is the ship that gives that final impression of unity, of -which I have already spoken, to the book. She grows, as it were, from -her birth, in no ordered sequence of {034}events, but admitting us ever -more closely into her intimacy, telling us, at first shyly, afterwards -more boldly, little things about herself, confiding to us her trials, -appealing sometimes to our admiration, indulging sometimes our humour. -Conrad is tender to her as he is to nothing human. He watches her shy, -new, in the dock, "her reputation all to make yet in the talk of the -seamen who were to share their life with her."... "She looked modest to -me. I imagined her diffident, lying very quiet, with her side nestling -shyly against the wharf to which she was made fast with very new lines, -intimidated by the company of her tried and experienced bisters already -familiar with all the violences of the ocean and the exacting love of -men." - -Her friend stands there on the quay and bids her be of good courage; he -salutes her grace and spirit--he echoes, with all the implied irony of -contrast, his companion's "Ships are all right...." - -He explains the many kinds of ships that there are--the rogues, the -wickedly malicious, {035}the sly, the benevolent, the proud, the -adventurous, the staid, the decorous. For even the worst of these he has -indulgences that he would never offer to the soul of man. He cannot be -severe before such a world of fine spirits. - -Finally, in the episode of the _Tremolino_ and her tragic end (an end -that has in it a suggestion of that later story, _Freya of the Seven -Inlands_), in that sinister adventure of Dominic and the vile Caesar, he -shows us, in miniature, what it is that he intends to do with all this -material. He gives us the soul of the _Tremolino_, the soul of Dominic, -the soul of the sea upon which they are voyaging. Without ever deserting -the realism upon which he builds his foundations he raises upon it his -house of romance. - -This book remains by far the easiest, the kindest, the most friendly -of all his books. He has been troubled here by no questions of form, of -creation, of development, whether of character or of incident. - -It is the best of all possible prologues to his more creative work. - - - - - -II--THE NOVELIST - - -I - -|IN {036}discussing the art of any novelist as distinct from the poet -or essayist there are three special questions that we may ask--as to the -Theme, as to the Form, as to the creation of Character. - -It is possible to discuss these three questions in terms that can be -applied, in no fashion whatever, to the poem or the essay, although the -novel may often more truly belong to the essay or the poem to the -novel, as, for instance, _The Ring and the Book_ and _Aurora Leigh_ bear -witness. All such questions of ultimate classes and divisions are vain, -but these three divisions of Theme, Form and Character do cover many -of the questions that are to be asked about any novelist simply in his -position as novelist {037}and nothing else. That Joseph Conrad is, in -his art, most truly poet as well as novelist no reader of his work -will deny. I wish, in this chapter, to consider him simply as a -novelist--that is, as a narrator of the histories of certain human -beings, with his attitude to those histories. - -Concerning the form of the novel the English novelists, until the -seventies and eighties of the nineteenth century, worried themselves -but slightly. If they considered the matter they chuckled over their -deliberate freedom, as did Sterne and Fielding. Scott considered -story-telling a jolly business in which one was, also, happily able -to make a fine living, but he never contemplated the matter with any -respect. Jane Austen, who had as much form as any modern novelist, was -quite unaware of her happy possession. The mid-Victorians gloriously -abandoned themselves to the rich independence of shilling numbers, a -fashion which forbade Form as completely as the manners of the time -forbade frankness. A new period began at the end of the fifties; -{038}but no one in 1861 was aware that a novel called _Evan Harrington_ -was of any special importance; it made no more stir than did _Almayer's -Folly_ in the early nineties, although the wonderful _Richard Feverel_ -had already preceded it. - -With the coming of George Meredith and Thomas Hardy the Form of the -novel, springing straight from the shores of France, where _Madame -Bovary_ and _Une Vie_ showed what might be done by taking trouble, grew -into a question of considerable import. Robert Louis Stevenson showed -how important it was to say things agreeably, even when you had not -very much to say. Henry James showed that there was so much to say about -everything that you could not possibly get to the end of it, and Rudyard -Kipling showed that the great thing was to see things as they were. At -the beginning of the nineties everyone was immensely busied over the way -that things were done. _The Yellow Book_ sprang into a bright existence, -flamed, and died. "Art for Art's sake" was slain by the trial of Oscar -Wilde in 1895. - -{039}Mr Wells, in addition to fantastic romances, wrote stories about -shop assistants and knew something about biology. The Fabian Society -made socialism entertaining. Mr Bernard Shaw foreshadowed a new period -and the Boer War completed an old one. - -Of the whole question of Conrad's place in the history of the English -novel and his influence upon it I wish to speak in a later chapter. -I would simply say here that if he was borne in upon the wind of the -French influence he was himself, in later years, one of the chief agents -in its destruction, but, beginning to write in English as he did in the -time of _The Yellow Book_, passing through all the realistic reaction -that followed the collapse of aestheticism, seeing the old period washed -away by the storm of the Boer War, he had, especially prepared for him, -a new stage upon which to labour. The time and the season were ideal for -the work that he had to do. - - -II - -{040}The form in which Conrad has chosen to develop his narratives is -the question which must always come first in any consideration of him -as a novelist; the question of his form is the ground upon which he has -been most frequently attacked. - -His difficulties in this matter have all arisen, as I have already -suggested, from his absorbing interest in life. Let us imagine, for an -instant, an imaginary case. He has teen in some foreign port a quarrel -between two seamen. One has "knifed" the other, and the quarrel has been -watched, with complete indifference, by a young girl and a bibulous old -wastrel who is obviously a relation both of hers and of the stricken -seaman. The author sees here a case for his art and, wishing to give -us the matter with the greatest possible truth and accuracy, he begins, -_oratio recta_, by the narration of a little barber whose shop is just -over the spot where the quarrel took place and whose lodgers the old man -and the girl are. He {041}describes the little barber and is, at once, -amazed by the interesting facts that he discovers about the man. Seen -standing in his doorway he is the most ordinary little figure, but -once investigate his case and you find a strange contrast between his -melancholy romanticism and the flashing fanaticism of his love for the -young girl who lodges with him. That leads one back, through many years, -to the moment of his first meeting with the bibulous old man, and for -a witness of that wo must hunt out a villainous old woman who keeps -a drinking saloon in another part of the town. This old woman, now -so drink-sodden and degraded, had once a history of her own. Once she -was... - -And so the matter continues. It is not so much a deliberate evocation of -the most difficult of methods, this maimer of narration, as a poignant -witness to Conrad's own breathless surprise at his discoveries. Mr Henry -James, speaking of this enforced collection of oratorical witnesses, -says: "It places Mr Conrad absolutely alone as a {042}votary of the way -to do a thing that shall make it undergo most doing," and his amazement -at Conrad's patient pursuit of unneeded difficulties may seem to us the -stranger if we consider that in _What Maisie Knew_ and _The Awkward Age_ -he has practised almost precisely the same form himself. Indeed beside -the intricate but masterly form of _The Awkward Age_ the duplicate -narration of _Chance_ seems child's play. Mr Henry James makes the -mistake of speaking as though Conrad had quite deliberately chosen the -form of narration that was most difficult to him, simply for the fun -of overcoming the difficulties, the truth being that he has chosen the -easiest, the form of narration brought straight from the sea and the -ships that he adored, the form of narration used by the Ancient Mariner -and all the seamen before and alter him. Conrad must have his direct -narrator, because that is the way in which stories in the past had -generally come to him. He wishes to deny the effect of that direct and -simple honesty that had always seemed so attractive to {043}him. He must -have it by word of mouth, because it is by word of mouth that he himself -has always demanded it, and if one witness is not enough for the truth -of it then must he have two or three. - -Consider for a moment the form of three of his most important novels: -_Lord Jim, Nostromo_ and _Chance_. It is possible that _Lord Jim_ was -conceived originally as a sketch of character, derived by the author -from one scene that was, in all probability, an actual reminiscence. -Certainly, when the book is finished, one scene beyond all others -remains with the reader; the scene of the inquiry into the loss of -the _Patna_, or rather the vision of Jim and his appalling companions -waiting outside for the inquiry to begin. Simply in the contemplation -of these four men Conrad has his desired contrast; the skipper of -the _Patna_: "He made me think of a trained baby elephant walking -on hind-legs. He was extravagantly gorgeous too--got up in a. soiled -sleeping-suit, bright green and deep orange vertical stripes, with a -pair of ragged straw slippers {044}on his bare feet, and somebody's -cast-off pith hat, very dirty and two sizes too small for him, tied up -with a manilla rope-yarn on the top of his big head." There are also two -other "no-account chaps with him"--a sallow faced mean little chap with -his arm in a sling, and a long individual in a blue flannel coat, -as dry as a chip and no stouter than a broomstick, with drooping grey -moustaches, who looked about him with an air of jaunty imbecility, and, -with these three, Jim, "clean-limbed, clean-faced, firm on his feet, as -promising a boy as the sun ever shone on." Here are these four, in the -same box, condemned for ever by all right-thinking men. That boy in the -same box as those obscene scoundrels! At once the artist has fastened -on to his subject, it bristles with active, vital possibilities and -discoveries. We, the observers, share the artist's thrill. We watch -our author dart upon a subject with the excitement of adventurers -discovering a gold mine. How much will it yield? How deep will it go? -We are thrilled with the suspense. {045}Conrad, having discovered his -subject, must, for the satisfaction of that honour which is his most -deeply cherished virtue, prove to us his authenticity. "I was not -there myself," he tells us, "but I can show you someone who was." He -introduces us to a first-hand witness, Marlowe or another. "Now tell -your story." He has at once the atmosphere in which he is happiest, -and so, having his audience clustered about him, unlimited time at -everyone's disposal, whiskies and cigars without stint, he lets himself -go. He is bothered now by no question but the thorough investigation of -his discovery. What had Jim done that he should be in such a case? We -must have the story of the loss of the _Patna_, that marvellous journey -across the waters, all the world of the pilgrims, the obscene captain -and Jim's fine, chivalrous soul. Marlowe is inexhaustible. He has so -much to say and so many fine words in which to say it. At present, so -absorbed are we, so successful is he, that we are completely held. The -illusion is perfect. We come to the inquiry. {046}One of the judges is -Captain Brierley. "What! not know Captain Brierley! Ah! but I must tell -you! Most extraordinary thing!" - -The world grows around us; a world that can contain the captain of the -_Patna_, Brierley and Jim at the same time! The subject before us seems -now so rich that we are expecting to see it burst, at any moment, in the -author's hands, but so long as that first visualised scene is the centre -of the episode, so long as the experience hovers round that inquiry -and the Esplanade outside it, we are held, breathless and believing. -We believe even in the eloquent Marlowe. Then the moment passes. Every -possible probe into its heart has been made. We are satisfied. - -There follows then the sequel, and here at once the weakness of the -method is apparent. The author having created his narrator must continue -with him. Marlowe is there, untired, eager, waiting to begin again. -But the trouble is that we are do longer assured now of the truth -and {047}reality of his story. He saw--we cannot for an instant doubt -it--that group on the Esplanade; all that he could tell us about that -we, breathlessly, awaited. But now we are uncertain whether he is not -inventing a romantic sequel. He must go on--that is the truly terrible -thing about Marlowe--and at the moment when we question his authenticity -we are suspicious of his very existence, ready to be irritated by his -flow of words demanding something more authentic than that voice that -is now only dimly heard. The author himself perhaps feels this; he -duplicates, he even trebles his narrators and with each fresh agent -raises a fresh crop of facts, contrasts, halts and histories. That then -is the peril of the method. Whilst we believe we are completely held, -but let the authenticity waver for a moment and the danger of disaster -is more excessive than with any other possible form of narration. Create -your authority and we have at once someone at whom we may throw -stones if we are not beguiled, Marlowe has certainly been compelled to -{048}face, at moments in his career, an angry, irritated audience. - -_Nostromo_ is, for the reason that we never lose our confidence in the -narrator, a triumphant vindication of these methods. That is not to deny -that _Nostromo_ is extremely contused in places, but it is a -confusion that arises rather from Conrad's confidence in the reader's -fore-knowledge of the facts than in a complication of narrations. The -narrations are sometimes complicated--old Captain Mitchell does not -always achieve authenticity--but on the whole, the reader may be said to -be puzzled, simply because he is told so much about some things and so -little about others. - -But this assurance of the author's that we must have already learnt the -main facts of the case comes from his own convinced sense of the reality -of it. This time he has no Marlowe. He was there himself. "Of course," -he says to us, "you know all about that revolution in Sulaco, that -revolution that the Goulds were mixed up with. Well, I happened to be -there myself. I know all {049}the people concerned, and the central -figure was not Gould, nor Mitchell, nor Monyngham--no, it was a man -about whom no one outside the republic was told a syllable. I knew the -man well.... He.. and there we all are." - -The method is, in this case, as I have already said, completely -successful. There may be confusions, there may be scenes concerning -which we may be expected to be told much and are, in truth, told nothing -at all, but these confusions and omissions do, in the end, only add to -our conviction of the veracity of it. No one, after a faithful perusal -of _Nostromo_, can possibly doubt of the existence of Sulaco, of the -silver mine, of Nostromo and Decoud, of Mrs Gould, Antonio, the Viola -girls, of old Viola, Hirsch, Monyngham, Gould, Sotillo, of the death of -Viola's wife, of the expedition at night in the painter, of Decoud alone -on the Isabels, of Hirsch's torture, of Captain Mitchell's watch--here -are characters the most romantic in the world, scenes that would surely, -in any other hands, be fantastic {050}melodrama, and both characters and -scenes are absolutely supported on the foundation of realistic truth. -Not for a moment from the first page to the last do we consciously doubt -the author's word.... Here the form of narration is vindicated because -it is entirely convincing. - -Not so with the third example, _Chance_. Here, as with _Lord Jim_, we -may find one, visualised moment that stands for the whole book and as -in the earlier work we look back and see the degraded officers of the -_Patna_ waiting with Jim on the Esplanade, so our glance back over -_Chance_ reveals to us that moment when the Fynes, from the security of -their comfortable home, watch Flora de Barrel flying down the steps -of her horrible Brighton house as though the Furies pursued her. That -desperate flight is the key of the book. The moment of the chivalrous -Captain Anthony's rescue of Flora from a world too villainous for her -and too double-faced for him gives the book's theme, and never in all -the stories that preceded Flora's has Conrad been so {051}eager to -afford us first-hand witnesses. We have, in the first place, the -unquenchable Marlowe sitting, with fine phrases at his lips, in a -riverside inn. To him enter Powell, who once served with Captain -Anthony; to these two add the little Fynes; there surely you have enough -to secure your alliance. But it is precisely the number of witnesses -that frightens us. Marlowe, unaided, would have been enough for us, -more than enough if we are to consider the author himself as a possible -narrator. But not only does the number frighten us, it positively hides -from us the figures of Captain Anthony and Flora de Barrel. Both the -Knight and the Maiden--as the author names them--are retiring souls, -and our hearts move in sympathy fin them as we contemplate their timid -hesitancy before the voluble inquisitions of Marlowe, young Powell and -the Fynes. Moreover, the intention of this method that it should secure -realistic conviction for the most romantic episodes does not here -achieve its purpose, as we have seen that it did in the first half -of {052}_Lord Jim_ and the whole of _Nostromo_. We believe most -emphatically in that first narration of young Powell's about his first -chance. We believe in the first narration of Marlowe, although quite -casually he talks like this: "I do not even think that there was in -what he did a conscious and lofty confidence in himself, a particularly -pronounced sense of power which leads men so often into impossible or -equivocal situations." We believe in the horrible governess (a fiercely -drawn figure). We believe in Marlowe's interview with Flora on the -pavement outside Anthony's room. - -We believe in the whole of the first half of the book, but even here we -are conscious that we would prefer to be closer to the whole thing, that -it would be pleasant to hear Flora and Anthony speak for themselves, -that we resent, a little, Marlowe's intimacy which prevents, with -patronising complaisance, the intimacy that we, the readers, might have -seemed. Nevertheless we are so far held, we are captured. - -But when the second half of the book {053}arrives we can be confident -no longer. Here, as in _Lord Jim_, it is possible to feel that Conrad, -having surprised, seized upon, mastered his original moment, did not -know how to continue it. The true thing in _Lord Jim_ is the affair of -the _Patna_; the true thing in _Chance_ is Captain Anthony's rescue of -Flora after her disaster. But whereas in _Lord Jim_ the sequel to Jim's -cowardice has its own fine qualities of beauty and imagination, the -sequel to Captain Anthony's rescue of Flora seems to one listener at any -rate a pitiably unconvincing climax of huddled melodrama. That chapter -in _Chance_ entitled _A Moonless Night_ is, in the first half of it, -surely the worst thing that Conrad ever wrote, save only that one early -short story, _The Return_. The conclusion of _Chance_ and certain tales -in his volume, _Within the Tides_, make one wonder whether that -alliance between romance and realism that he has hitherto so wonderfully -maintained is not breaking down before the baleful strength of the -former of these two qualities. - -{054}It remains only to be said that when credence so entirely fails, -as it must before the end of _Chance_, the form of narration in _Oratio -Recta_ is nothing less than maddening. Suddenly we do not believe in -Marlowe, in Powell, in the Fynes: we do not believe even in Anthony -and Flora. We are the angrier because earlier in the evening we were -so completely taken in. It is as though we had given our money to a -deserving cause and discovered a charlatan. - -I have described at length the form in which the themes of these books -are developed, because it is the form that, here extensively, here quite -unobtrusively, clothes all the novels and tales. We are caught and held -by the skinny finger of the Ancient Mariner. When he has a true tale to -tell us his veritable presence is an added zest to our pleasure. But, if -his presence be not true... - - -III - -If we turn to the themes that engage Joseph Conrad's attention we shall -see that {055}in almost every case his subjects are concerned with -unequal combats--unequal to his own far-seeing vision, but never to -the human souls engaged in them, and it is this consciousness of the -blindness that renders men's honesty and heroism of so little account -that gives occasion for his irony. - -He chooses, in almost every case, the most solid and unimaginative of -human beings for his heroes, and it seems that it is these men alone -whom he can admire. "If a human soul has vision he simply gives the -thing up," we can hear him say. "He can see at once that the odds are -too strong for him. But these simple souls, with their consciousness of -the job before them and nothing else, with their placid sense of honour -and of duty, upon them you may loosen all heaven's bolts and lightnings -and they will not quail." They command his pity, his reverence, his -tenderness, almost his love. But at the end, with an ironic shrug of his -shoulders, he says: "You see. I told you so. He may even think he has -won. We know better, you and I." {056}The theme of _Almayer's Folly_ -is a struggle of a weak man against nature, of _The Nigger of the -Narcissus_ the struggle of many simple men against the presence of -death, of _Lord Jim_, again, the struggle of a simple man against -nature (here the man wins, but only, we feel, at the cost of truth). -_Nostromo_, the conquest of a child of nature by the silver mine which -stands over him, conscious of its ultimate victory, from the very first. -_Chance_, the struggle of an absolutely simple and upright soul against -the dishonesties of a world that he does not understand. _Typhoon_, the -very epitome of Conrad's themes, is the struggle of M'Whirr against the -storm (here again it is M'Whirr who apparently wins, but we can hear, -in the very last line of the book, the storm's confident chuckle of -ultimate victory). In _Heart of Darkness_ the victory is to the forest. -In _The End of the Tether_ Captain Whalley, one of Conrad's finest -figures, is beaten by the very loftiness of his character. The three -tales in _'Twixt Land, and Sea_ are all themes of this kind--the -struggle of simple, {057}unimaginative men against forces too strong -for them. In _The Secret Agent_ Winnie Verloc, another simple character, -finds life too much for her and commits suicide. In _Under Western Eyes_ -Razumov, the dreamer, is destroyed by a world that laughs at the pains -and struggles of insignificant individuals. - -Of Conrad's philosophy I must speak in another place: here it is enough -to say that it is impossible to imagine him choosing as the character -of a story jolly, independent souls who take life for what it gives them -and leave defeat or victory to the stars. - -Whatever Conrad's books are or are not, it may safely be said that -they are never jolly, and his most devoted disciple would, in all -probability, resent any suggestion of a lighter hand or a gentler -affection, his art, nevertheless, is limited by this persistent brooding -over the inequality of life's battle. His humour, often of a very -fine kind, is always sinister, because his choice of theme forbids -light-heartedness. - -Tom Jones and Tristram Shandy would {058}have found Marlowe, Jim and -Captain Anthony quite impossibly solemn company--but I do not deny that -they might not have been something the better for a little of it. - -I have already said that his characters are, for the most part, simple -and unimaginative men, but that does not mean that they are so simple -that there is nothing in them. The first thing of which one is sure in -meeting a number of Conrad's characters is that they have existences -and histories entirely independent of their introducer's kind offices. -Conrad has met them, has talked to them, has come to know them, but we -are sure not only that there is very much more that he could tell us -about them if he had time and space, but that even when he had told us -all that he knew he would only have touched on the fringe of their real -histories. - -One of the distinctions between the modern English novel and the -mid-Victorian English novel is that modern characters have but little of -the robust vitality of their {059}predecessors; the figures in the novel -of to-day fade so easily from the page that endeavours to keep them. - -In the novels of Mr Henry James we feel at times that the characters -fade before the motives attributed to them, in those of Mr Wells before -an idea, a curse, or a remedy, in those of Mr Bennett before a creeping -wilderness of important insignificances, in those of Mr Galsworthy -before the oppression of social inequalities, in those of Mrs Wharton -before the shadow of Mr Henry James, even in those of Mr Hardy -before the omnipotence of an inevitable God whom, in spite of his -inevitability, Mr Hardy himself is arranging in the background; it -may be claimed for the characters of Mr Conrad that they yield -their solidity to no force, no power, not even to their author's own -determination that they are doomed, in the end, to defeat. - -This is not for a moment to say that Joseph Conrad is a finer -novelist than these others, but this quality he has beyond his -contemporaries--namely, the assurance that {060}his characters have -their lives and adventures both before and after the especial cases that -he is describing to us. - -The Russian Tchekov has, in his plays, this gift supremely, so that at -the close of _The Three Sisters_ or _The Cherry Orchard_ we are left -speculating deeply upon "what happened afterwards" to Gayef or Barbara, -to Masha or Epikhadov; with Conrad's sea captains as with Tchekov's -Russians we see at once that they are entirely independent of the -incidents that we are told about them. This independence springs partly -from the author's eager, almost nave curiosity. It is impossible for -him to introduce us to any officer on his ship without whispering to us -in an aside details about his life, his wife and family on shore. By so -doing he forges an extra link in his chain of circumstantial evidence, -but we do not feel that here he is deliberately serving his art--it is -only that quality already mentioned, his own astonished delight at the -things that he is discovering. We learn, for instance, about Captain -M'Whirr that he wrote long letters home, {061}beginning always with the -words, "My darling Wife," and relating in minute detail each successive -trip of the _Nan-Shan_. Mrs M'Whirr, we learn, was "a pretentious person -with a scraggy neck and a disdainful manner, admittedly lady-like and in -the neighbourhood considered as 'quite superior.' The only secret of her -life was her abject terror of the time when her husband would come home -to stay for good." Also in _Typhoon_ there is the second mate "who never -wrote any letters, did not seem to hope for news from anywhere; and -though he had been heard once to mention West Hartlepool, it was with -extreme bitterness, and only in connection with the extortionate charges -of a boarding-house." How conscious we are of Jim's English country -parsonage, of Captain Anthony's loneliness, of Marlowe's isolation. By -this simple thread of connection between the land and the ship the whole -character stands, human and convincing, before us. Of the sailors on -board the _Narcissus_ there is not one about whom, after his landing, -{062}we are not curious. There is the skipper, whose wife comes on -board, "A real lady, in a black dress and with a parasol."... "Very soon -the captain, dressed very smartly and in a white shirt, went with her -over the side. We didn't recognise him at all...." And Mr Baker, the -chief mate! Is not this little farewell enough to make us his friends -for life? - -"No one waited for him ashore. Mother died; father and two brothers, -Yarmouth fishermen, drowned together on the Dogger Bank; sister married -and unfriendly. Quite a lady, married to the leading tailor of a little -town, and its leading politician, who did not think his sailor brother -in-law quite respectable enough for him. Quite a lady, quite a lady, -he thought, sitting down for a moment's rest on the quarter-hatch. Time -enough to go ashore and get a bite, and sup, and a bed somewhere. -He didn't like to part with a ship. No one to think about then. The -darkness of a misty evening fell, cold and damp, upon the deserted deck; -and Mr Baker sat smoking, thinking of all the successive ships to whom -through many {063}long years he had given the best of a seaman's care. -And never a command in sight. Not once!" - -There are others--the abominable Donkin for instance. "Donkin entered. -They discussed the account... Captain Allistoun said. 'I give you a bad -discharge,' he said quietly. Donkin raised his voice: 'I don't want your -bloomin' discharge--keep it. I'm goin' ter 'ave a job hashore.' He turned -to us. 'No more bloomin' sea for me,' he said, aloud. All looked at him. -He had better clothes, had an easy air, appeared more at home than any -of us; he stared with assurance, enjoying the effect of his -declaration." - -In how many novels would Donkin's life have been limited by the part -that he was required to play in the adventures of the _Narcissus?_ As it -is our interest in his progress has been satisfied by a prologue -only. Or there is Charley, the boy of the crew--"As I came up I saw a -red-faced, blowzy woman, in a grey shawl, and with dusty, {064}fluffy -hair, fall on Charley's neck. It was his mother. She slobbered over -him:--'Oh, my boy! my boy!'--'Leggo me,' said Charley, 'leggo, -mother!' I was passing him at the time, and over the untidy head of -the blubbering woman he gave me a humorous smile and a glance ironic, -courageous, and profound, that seemed to put all my knowledge of life -to shame. I nodded and passed on, but heard him say again, -good-naturedly:--'If you leggo of me this minyt--ye shall 'ave a bob for -a drink out of my pay.'" - -But one passes from these men of the sea--from M'Whirr and Baker, -from Lingard and Captain Whalley, from Captain Anthony and Jim, with a -suspicion that the author will not convince us quite so readily with his -men of the land--and that suspicion is never entirely dismissed. About -such men as M'Whirr and Baker he can tell us nothing that we will not -believe. He has such sympathy and understanding for them that they will, -we are assured, deliver up to him their dearest secrets--those little -details, {065}M'Whirr's wife, Mr Baker's proud sister, Charley's -mother, are their dearest secrets. But with the citizens of the other -world--with Stein, Decoud, Gould, Verloc, Razumov, the sinister Nikita, -the little Fynes, even the great Nostromo himself--we cannot be so -confident, simply because their discoverer cannot yield them that same -perfect sympathy. - -His theory about these men is that they have, all of them, an -_ide fixe_, that you must search for this patiently, honestly, -unsparingly--having found it, the soul of the man is revealed to you. -But is it? Is it not possible that Decoud or Verloc, feeling the probing -finger, offer up instantly any _ide fixe_ ready to hand because -they wish to be left alone? Decoud himself, for instance--Decoud, the -imaginative journalist in _Nostromo_, speculating with his ironic mind -upon romantic features, at his heart, apparently cynical and reserved, -the burning passion for the beautiful Antonia. He has yielded enough -to suggest the truth, but the truth itself eludes us. With Verloc again -{066}we have a quite masterly presentation of the man as Conrad sees -him. That first description of him is wonderful, both in its reality -and its significance. "His eyes were naturally heavy, he had an air of -having wallowed, fully dressed, all day on an unmade bed." - -With many novelists that would be quite enough, that we should see the -character as the author sees him, but because, in these histories, we -have the convictions of the extension of the protagonists' lives -beyond the stated episodes, it is not enough. Because they have lives -independent of the covers of the book we feel that there can be no end -to the things that we should be told about them, and they must be true -things. - -Verloc, for instance, is attached from the first to his _ide -fixe_--namely, that he should be able to retain, at all costs, his -phlegmatic state of self-indulgence and should not be jockeyed out of -it. At the first sign of threatened change he is terrified to his very -soul. Conrad never, for an instant, allows him to leave this ground -upon which he has {067}placed him. We see the man tied to his rock of -an _ide fixe_, but he has, nevertheless, we are assured, another life, -other motives, other humours, other terrors. It is perhaps a direct -tribute to the authors reserve power that we feel, at the book's close, -that we should have been told so much more. - -Even with the great Nostromo himself we are not satisfied as we are with -Captain Whalley or Mr Kates. Nostromo is surely, as a picture, the moat -romantically satisfying figure in the English novel since Scott, -with the single exception of Thackeray's Beatrix--and here I am not -forgetting Captain Silver, David Balfour, Catriona, nor, in our own -immediate time, young Beauchamp or the hero of that amazing and so -unjustly obscure fiction, _The Shadow of a Titan_. As a picture, -Nostromo shines with a flaming colour, shines, as the whole novel -shines, with a glow that is flung by the contrasted balance of its -romance and realism. From that first vision of him as he rides slowly -through the crowds, in his magnificent dress: "... his hat, a gay -sombrero with {068}a silver cord and tassels. The bright colours of a -Mexican scrape twisted on the mantle, the enormous silver buttons on the -embroidered leather jacket, the row of tiny silver buttons down the seam -of the trousers, the snowy linen, a silk sash with embroidered ends, the -silver plates on headstall and saddle... to that last moment when--... -in the dimly lit room Nostromo rolled his head slowly on the pillow and -opened his eyes, directing at the weird figure perched by his bedside -a glance of enigmatic and mocking scorn. Then his head rolled back, his -eyelids fell, and the Capatos of the Cargadores died without a word or -moan after an hour of immobility, broken by short shudders testifying to -the most atrocious sufferings"--we are conscious of his superb figure; -and after his death we do, indeed, believe what the last lines of the -book assure us--"In that true cry of love and grief that seemed to -ring aloud from Punta Mala to Azuera and away to the bright line of -the horizon, overhung by a big white cloud shining like a mass of -solid silver, the {069}genius of the magnificent Capatuz de Cargadores -dominated the dark gulf containing his conquests of treasure and love." -His genius dominates, yes--but it is the genius of a magnificent picture -standing as a frontispiece to the book of his soul. And that soul is not -given us--Nostromo, proud to the last, refuses to surrender it to us. -Why is it that the slender sketch of old Singleton in _The Nigger of -the Narcissus_ gives us the very heart of the man, so that volumes -might tell us more of him indeed, but could not surrender him to us more -truly, and all the fine summoning of Nostromo only leaves him beyond -our grasp? We believe in Nostromo, but we are told about him--we have -not met him. - -Nevertheless, at another turn of the road, this criticism must seem the -basest ingratitude. When we look back and survey that crowd, so various, -so distinct whether it be they who are busied, before our eyes, with the -daily life of Sulaoo, or the Verloc family (the most poignant scene in -the whole of Conrad's art--the drive in the {070}cab of old Mrs Verloc, -Winnie and Stevie--compels, additionally, our gratitude) or that strange -gathering, the Haldins, Nikita, Laspara, Madame de S------, Peter -Ivanovitch, Raznmov, at Geneva, or the highly coloured figures in -_Romance_ (a book fine in some places, astonishingly second-rate in -others), Falk or Amy Foster, Jacobus and his daughter, Jasper and his -lover, all those and so many, many more, what can we do but embrace the -world that is offered to us, accept it as an axiom of life that, of -all these figures, some will be near to us, some more distant? It is, -finally, a world that Conrad offers us, not a series of novels in whose -pages we find the same two or three figures returning to us--old friends -with new faces and new names--but a planet that we know, even as we know -the Meredith planet, the Hardy planet, the James planet. - -Looking back, we may trace its towns and rivers, its continents and -seas, its mean streets and deep valleys, its country houses, its -sordid hovels, its vast, untamed forests, its deserts and wilderness -s. Although each {071}work, from, the vast _Nostromo_ to the minutely -perfect _Secret Share_, has its new theme, its form, its separate heart, -the swarming life that he has created knows no boundary. And in this, -surely, creation has accomplished its noblest work. - - - - -III--THE POET - -|THE {072}poet in Conrad is lyrical as well as philosophic. The lyrical -side is absent in certain of his works, as, for example, _The Secret -Agent_, and _Under Western Eyes_, or such short stories as _The -Informer_, or _Il Conde_, but the philosophic note sounded poetically, -as an instrument of music as well as a philosophy, is never absent. - -Three elements in the work of Conrad the poet as distinct from Conrad -the novelist deserve consideration--style, atmosphere and philosophy. In -the matter of style the first point that must strike any constant reader -of the novels is the change that is to be marked between the earlier -works and the later. Here is a descriptive passage from {073}Conrad's -second novel, _An Outcast of the Islands_: - -"He followed her step by step till at last they both stopped, facing -each other under the big tree of the enclosure. The solitary exile of -the forests great, motionless and solemn in his abandonment, left alone -by the life of ages that had been pushed away from him by those pigmies -that crept at his foot, towered high and straight above their leader. He -seemed to look on, dispassionate and imposing in his lonely greatness, -spreading his branches wide in a gesture of lofty protection, as if to -hide them in the sombre shelter of innumerable leaves; as if moved by -the disdainful compassion of the strong, by the scornful pity of an -aged giant, to screen this struggle of two human hearts from the cold -scrutiny of glittering stars." - -And from his latest novel, _Chance_: - -"The very sea, with short flashes of foam bursting out here and there -in the gloomy distances, the unchangeable, safe sea sheltering a man -from all passions, except its own anger, seemed queer to the quick -{074}glance he threw to windward when the already effaced horizon traced -no reassuring limit to the eye. In the expiring diffused twilight, -and before the clouded night dropped its mysterious veil, it was the -immensity of space made visible--almost palpable. Young Powell felt -it. He felt it in the sudden sense of his isolation; the trustworthy, -powerful ship of his first acquaintance reduced to a speck, to something -almost undistinguishable. The mere support for the soles of his two -feet before that unexpected old man becoming so suddenly articulate in a -darkening universe." - -It must be remembered that the second of these quotations is the voice -of Marlowe and that therefore it should, in necessity, be the simpler of -the two. Nevertheless, the distinction can very clearly be observed. The -first piece of prose is quite definitely lyrical: it has, it cannot be -denied, something of the "purple patch." We feel that the prose is too -dependent upon sonorous adjectives, that it has the deliberation of work -slightly affected by the author's {075}determination that it shall be -fine. The rhythm in it, however, is as deliberate as the rhythm of any -poem in English, the picture evoked as distinct and clear-cut as though -it were, in actual tact, a poem detached from all context and, finally, -there is the inevitable philosophical implication to give the argument -to the picture. Such passages of descriptive prose may be found again -and again in the earlier novels and tales of Conrad, in _Almayer's -Folly, Tales of Unrest, The Nigger of the Narcissus, Typhoon, Youth, -Heart of Darkness, Lord Jim_,--prose piled high with sonorous and -slow-moving adjectives, three adjectives to a noun, prose that sounds -hike an Eastern invocation to a deity in whom, nevertheless, the -suppliant does not believe. At its worst, the strain that its sonority -places upon movements and objects of no importance is disastrous. -For instance, in the tale called _The Return_, there is the following -passage:-- - -"He saw her shoulder touch the lintel of the door. She swayed as if -dazed. There was {076}less than a second of suspense while they both -felt as if poised on the very edge of moral annihilation, ready to fall -into some devouring nowhere. Then almost simultaneously he shouted, -'Come back,' and she let go the handle of the door. She turned round in -peaceful desperation like one who has deliberately thrown away the last -chance of life; and for a moment the room she faced appeared terrible, -and dark, and safe--like a grave." - -The situation here simply will not bear the weight of the words--"moral -annihilation," "devouring nowhere," "peaceful desperation," "last chance -of life," "terrible," "like a grave." That he shouted gives a final -touch of ludicrous exaggeration to the whole passage. - -Often, in the earlier books, Conrad's style has the awkward -over-emphasis of a writer who is still acquiring the language that he is -using, like a foreigner who shouts to us because he thinks that thus -we shall understand him more easily. But there is also, in this earlier -style, the marked effect of {077}two influences. One influence is that -of the French language and especially of the author of _Madame Bovary_. -When we recollect that Conrad hesitated at the beginning of his career -as to whether he would write in French or English, we can understand -this French inflection. Flaubert's effect on his style is quite -unmistakable. This is a sentence of Flaubert's: "Toutes ses vellits de -dnigrement l'envanouissaiont sous la posie du rle qui l'envahissait; -et entraine vers l'homme par l'illusion du personnage elle tcha de se -figurer sa vie, cette vie retentissante, extraordinaire, splendide..." -and this a sentence of Conrad's: "Her hands slipped slowly off Lingard's -shoulders and her arms tell by her side, listless, discouraged, as if -to her--to her, the savage, violent and ignorant creature--had been -revealed clearly in that moment the tremendous fact of our isolation, of -the loneliness, impenetrable and transparent, elusive and everlasting." - -Conrad's sentence reads like a direct translation from the French, It -is probable, {078}however, that his debt to Flaubert and the French -language can be very easily exaggerated, and it does not seem, in -any case, to have driven very deeply into the heart of his form. The -influence is mainly to be detected in the arrangement of words and -sentences as though he had in the first years of his work, used it as a -crutch before he could walk alone. - -The second of the early influences upon his style is of far greater -importance--the influence of the vast, unfettered elements of nature -that he had, for so many years, so directly served. If it were not for -his remarkable creative gift that had been, from the very first, at its -full strength, his early books would stand as purely lyrical evocations -of the sea and the forest. It is the poetry of the Old Testament of -which we think in many pages of _Almayer's Folly_ and _An Outcast of -the Island_, a poetry that has the rhythm and metre of a spontaneous -emotion. He was never again to catch quite the spirit of that first -rapture. - -He was under the influence of these powers {079}also in that, at that -time, they were too strong for him. We feel with him that he is impotent -to express his wonder and praise because he is still so immediately -under their sway. His style, in these earlier hooks, has the repetitions -and extended phrases of a man who is marking time before the inspired -moment comes to him--often the inspiration does not come because he -cannot detach himselt with sufficient pause and balance. But in his -middle period, in the period of _Youth, Typhoon, Heart of Darkness_ and -_Nostromo_, this lyrical impulse can be seen at its perfection, beating, -steadily, spontaneously, with the finest freedom and yet disciplined, as -it were, by its own will and desire. Compare, for a moment, this passage -from _Typhoon_ with that earlier one from _The Outcast of the Islands_ -that I quoted above: - -"He watched her, battered and solitary, labouring heavily in a wild -scene of mountainous black waters lit by the gleam of distant worlds. -She moved slowly, breathing into the still core of the hurricane -{080}the excess of her strength in a white cloud of steam, and the -deep-toned vibration of the escape was like the defiant trumpeting of a -living creature of the sea impatient for the renewal of the contest. -It ceased suddenly. The still air moaned. Above Jakes' head a few stars -shone into the pit of black vapours. The inky edge of the cloud-disc -frowned upon the ship under the patch of glittering sky. The stars too -seemed to look at her intently, as if for the last time, and the cluster -of their splendour sat like a diadem on a lowering brow." - -That is poet's work, and poet's work at its finest. Instead of -impressing us, as the earlier piece of prose, with the fact that the -author has made the very most of a rather thin moment--feels, indeed, -himself that it is thin--we are here under the influence of something -that can have no limits to the splendours that it contains. The work is -thick, as though it had been wrought by the finest workman out of -the heart of the finest material--and yet it remains, through all its -discipline, spontaneous. - -These three tales, _Typhoon, Youth_ and {081}_Heart of Darkness_, stand -by themselves as the final expression of Conrad's lyrical gift. We -may remember such characters as M'Whirr, Kurtz, Marlowe, but they are -figures as the old seneschal in _The Eve of St Agnes_ or the Ancient -Mariner himself are figures. They are as surely complete poems, wrought -and finished in the true spirit of poetry, as Whitman's _When Lilac -first on the Door yard bloomed_ or Keats' _Nightingale._ Their author -was never again to succeed so completely in combining the free spirit of -his enthusiasm with the disciplined restraint of the true artist. - -The third period of his style shows him cool and clear-headed as to -the things that he intends to do. He is now the slightly ironic, artist -whose business is to get things on to paper in the clearest possible -way. He is conscious that in the past he has been at the mercy of -sonorous and high-sounding adjectives. He will use them still, but -only to show them that they are at his mercy. Marlowe, his appointed -minister, is older--he must look back now on the colours of {082}_Youth_ -with an indulgent smile. And when Marlowe is absent, in such novels as -_The Secret Agent_ and _Under Western Eyes_, in such a volume of -stories as _A Set of Six_, the lyrical beat in the style is utterly -abandoned--we are led forward by sentences as grave, as assured, and -sometimes as ponderous as a city policeman. Nevertheless, in that -passage from _Chance_ quoted at the beginning of the chapter, although -we may be far from the undisciplined enthusiasm of _An Outcast of -the Islands_, the lyrical impulse still remains. Yes, it is there, -but--"Young Powell felt it." In that magical storm that was _Typhoon_ -God alone can share our terror and demand our courage; in the later -experience young Powell is our companion. - - -II. - -The question of style devolves here directly into the question of -atmosphere. There may roughly be said to be four classes of novelists -in the matter of atmosphere. There is the novelist who, intent upon his -{083}daily bread or game of golf, has no desire to be worried by such -a perplexing business. He produces stories that might without loss play -the whole of their action in the waiting-room of an English railway -station. There is the novelist who thinks that atmosphere matters -immensely, who works hard to produce it and _does_ produce it in thick -slabs. There are the novelists whose theme, characters and background -react so admirably that the atmosphere is provided simply by that -reaction--and there, finally, it is left, put into no relation with -other atmospheres, serving no further purpose than the immediate one of -stating the facts. Of this school are the realists and, in our own -day, Mr Arnold Bennett's Brighton background in _Hilda Lessways_ or -Mrs Wharton's New York background in _The House of Mirth_ offer most -successful examples of such realistic work. The fourth class provides us -with the novelists who wish to place their atmosphere in relation -with the rest of life. Our imagination is awakened, insensibly, by the -contemplation of some scene and is thence {084}extended to the whole -vista, of life, from birth to death; although the scene may actually be -as remote or as conlined as space can make it, its potential limits -are boundless, its progression is extended beyond all possibilities -of definition. Such a moment is the death of Bazarov in _Fathers and -Children_, the searching of Dmitri in _The Brothers Karamazov_, the -scene at the theatre in _The Ring and the Book_, the London meeting -between Beauchamp and Ren in _Beauchamp's Career_. It is not only that -these scenes are "done" to the full extent of their "doing," it is also -that they have behind them the lyrical impulse that ignites them with -all the emotion and beauty in the history of the world; Turgeniev, -Dostoievsky, Browning, Meredith were amongst the greatest of the poets. -Conrad, at his highest moments, is also of that company. - -But it is not enough to say that this potential atmosphere is simply -lyrical. Mr Chesterton, in his breathless _Victorian Age in Literature_, -has named this element Glamour. {085}In writing of the novels by George -Eliot he says: "Indeed there is almost every element of literature, -except a certain indescribable thing called _Glamour_, which was the -whole stock-in-trade of the Brontes, which we feel in Dickens when Quilp -clambers, and rotten wood by the desolate river; and even in Thackeray, -when Edmond wanders like some swarthy crow about the dismal avenues of -Castlewood." Now' this matter of _Glamour_ is not all, because Dickens, -for instance, is not at all potential. His pictures of Quilp or the -house of the Dedloeks or Jonas Chuzzlewit's escape after the murder do -not put us into touch with other worlds--but we may say, at any rate, -that when, in a novel atmosphere _is_ potential it is certain also to -have glamour. - -The potential qualities of Conrad's atmosphere are amongst his very -strongest gifts and, it we investigate the matter, we see that it is -his union of Romance and Realism that gives such results. Of almost no -important scene in his novels is it possible to define the boundaries. -In _The Outcast {086}of the Islands_, when Willems is exiled by Captain -Lingard, the terror of that forest has at its heart not only the actual -terror of that immediate scene, minutely and realistically described--it -has also the terror of all our knowledge of loneliness, desolation, the -power of something stronger than ourselves. In _Lord Jim_ the contrast -of Jim with the officers of the _Patna_ is a contrast not only -immediately vital and realised to the very fringe of the captain's -gay and soiled pyjamas, but also potential to the very limits of our -ultimate conception of the eternal contrast between good and evil, -degradation and vigour, ugliness and beauty. In _The Nigger of the -Narcissus_ the death of the negro, James Wait, immediately affects -the lives of a number of very ordinary human beings whose friends and -intimates we have become--but that shadow that traps the feet of the -negro, that alarms the souls of Donkin, of Belfast, of Singleton, of the -boy Charlie, creeps also to our sides and envelops for us far more than -that single voyage of the _Narcissus_. {087}When Winnie Verloc, her old -mother and the boy Stevie, take their journey in the cab it does not -seem ludicrous to us that the tears of "that large female in a dark, -dusty wig, and ancient silk dress festooned with dingy white cotton -lace" should move us as though Mrs Verloc were our nearest friend. -That mournful but courageous journey remains in our mind as an intimate -companion of our own mournful and courageous experiences. Such examples -might be multiplied quite indefinitely. - -He has always secured his atmosphere by his own eager curiosity about -significant detail, but his detail is significant, not because he -wishes to impress his reader with the realism of his picture, but rather -because he s, like a very small boy in a strange house, pursuing the -most romantic adventures for his own pleasure and excitement only. We -may hear, with many novelists, the click of satisfaction with which they -drive another nail into the framework that supports their picture. "Now -see how firmly it stands," they say. "That last nail settled it." -But {088}Conrad is utterly unconscious as to his readers' later -credulity--he is too completely held by his own amazing discoveries. -Sometimes, as in _The Return_, when no vision is granted to him, it is -as though he were banging on a brass tray with all his strength so that -no one should perceive his own grievous disappointment at his failure. -But, in his real discoveries, how the atmosphere piles itself up, around -and about him, how we follow at his heels, penetrating the darkness, -trusting to his courage, finding ourselves suddenly blinded by the blaze -of Aladdin's cave! If he is tracing the tragedy of Willems and Almayer, -a tragedy that has for its natural background the gorgeous, heavy -splendour of those unending forests, he sees details that belong to the -austerest and most sharply disciplined realism. We see Lakamba, -asleep under the moon, slapping himself in his dreams to keep off the -mosquitoes; a bluebottle comes buzzing into the verandah above the -dirty plates of a half-finished meal and defies Lingard and Almayer, so -{089}that they are like men disheartened by some tremendous failure; the -cards with which Lingard tries to build a house for Almayer's baby are -"a dirty double pack" with which he used to play Chinese bzique--it -bored Almayer but the old seaman delighted in it, considering it a -remarkable product of Chinese genius. The atmosphere of the terrible -final chapters is set against this picture of a room in which Mrs -Willems is waiting for her abominable husband: - -"Bits of white stuff; rags yellow, pink, blue; rags limp, brilliant and -soiled, trailed on the floor, lay on the desk amongst the sombre covers -of books soiled, greasy, but stiff-backed in virtue, perhaps, of their -European origin. The biggest set of bookshelves was partly hidden by a -petticoat, the waistband of which was caught upon the back of a -slender book pulled a little out of the row so as to make an improvised -clothes-peg. The folding canvas bedstead stood anyhow, parallel to no -wall, as if it had been, in the process of transportation to some remote -place, dropped casually there by tired bearers. And on the tumbled -blankets that {090}lay in a disordered heap on its edge, Joanna sat.... -Through the half-open shutter a ray of sunlight, a ray merciless and -crude, came into the room, beat in the early morning upon the safe in -the far-off corner, then, travelling against the sun, cut at midday the -big desk in two with its solid and clean-edged brilliance; with its hot -brilliance in which a swarm of flies hovered in dancing flight over some -dirty plate forgotten there amongst yellow papers for many a day!" - -And this room is set in the very heart of the forests--"the forests -unattainable, enigmatical, for ever beyond reach like the stars of -heaven--and as indifferent." Had I space I could multiply from -every novel and tale examples of this creation of atmosphere by the -juxtaposition of the lyrical and the realistic--the lyrical pulse -beating through realistic detail ami transforming it. I will, however, -select one book, a supreme example of this effect. What I say about -_Nostromo_ may be proved from any other work of Conrad's. - -The theme of _Nostromo_ is the domination {091}of the silver of the -Sulaco mine over the bodies and souls of the human beings who live near -it. The light of the silver shines over the book. It is typified by "the -white head of Iliguerota rising majestically upon the blue." Conrad, -then, in choosing his theme, has selected the most romantic possible, -the spirit of silver treasure luring men on desperately to adventure -and to death. His atmosphere, therefore, is, in its highest lights, -romantic, even until that last vision of all of "the bright line of -the horizon, overhung by a big white cloud shining like a mass of solid -silver." Sulaco burns with colour. We can see, as though we had been -there yesterday, those streets with the coaches, "great family arks -swayed on high leathern springs full of pretty powdered faces in which -the eyes looked intensely alive and black," the houses, "in the early -sunshine, delicate primrose, pale pink, pale blue," or, after dark, from -Mrs Gould's balcony "towards the plaza end of the street the glowing -coals in the hazeros of the market women cooking their {092}evening -meal glowed red along the edge of the pavement. A man appeared without -a sound in the light of a street lamp, showing the coloured inverted -triangle of his broidered poncho, square on his shoulders, hanging to -a point below his knees. From the harbour end of the Calle a horseman -walked his soft-stepping mount, gleaming silver-grey abreast each lamp -under the dark shape of the rider." Later there is that sinister glimpse -of the plaza, "where a patrol of cavalry rode round and round without -penetrating into the streets which resounded with shouts and the -strumming of guitars issuing from the open doors of pulperias... and -above the roofs, next to the perpendicular lines of the cathedral towers -the snowy curve of Higuerota blocked a large space of darkening blue -sky before the windows of the Intendencia." In its final created -beauty Sulaco is as romantic, as coloured as one of those cloud-topped, -many-towered towns under whose gates we watch Grimm's princes and -princesses passing--but the detail of it is {093}built with careful -realism demanded by the "architecture of Manchester or Birmingham." We -wonder, as Sulaco grows familiar to us, as we realise its cathedral, -its squares and streets and houses, its slums, its wharves, its sea, its -hills and forests, why it is that other novelists have not created towns -for us. - -Anthony Trollope did, indeed, give us Barchester, but Barchester is -a shadow beside Sulaco. Mr Thomas Hardy's Wessex map is the most -fascinating document in modern fiction, with the possible exception of -Stevenson's chart in _Treasure Island_. Conrad, without any map at all, -gives us a familiarity with a small town on the South American coast -that far excels our knowledge of Barsetshire, Wessex and John Silver's -treasure. If any attentive reader of _Nostromo_ were put down in Sulaco -tomorrow he would feel as though he had returned to his native town. The -detail that provides this final picture is throughout the book -incessant but never intruding. We do not look back, when the novel is -{094}finished, to any especial moment of explanation or introduction. We -have been led, quite unconsciously, forward. We are led, at moments of -the deepest drama, through rooms and passages that are only remembered, -many hours later, in retrospect. There is, for instance, the -Aristocratic Club, that "extended to strangers the large hospitality -of the cool, big rooms of its historic quarters in the front part of a -house, once a residence of a High official of the Holy Office. The -two wings, shut up, crumbled behind the nailed doors, and what may be -described as a grove of young orange-trees grown in the unpaved patio -concealed the utter ruin of the back part facing the gate. You turned in -from the street, as if entering a secluded orchard, where you came upon -the foot of a disjointed staircase, guarded by a moss-stained effigy of -some saintly bishop, mitred and stalled, and bearing the indignity of a -broken nose meekly, with his fine stone hands crossed on his breast. The -chocolate-coloured faces of servants with mops of black hair peeped -at you from above; the click of billiard balls came to your ears, and, -{095}ascending the steps, you would perhaps see in the first steps, very -stiff upon a straight-backed chair, in a good light, Don Pp moving his -long moustaches as he spelt his way, at arm's length, through an old -Sta Marta newspaper. His horse--a strong-hearted but persevering black -brute, with a hammer bead--you would have seen in the street dozing -motionless under an immense saddle, with its nose almost touching the -curbstone of the side-walk!" - -How perfectly recollected is that passage! Can we not hear the -exclamation of some reader "Yes--those orange-trees! It was just like -that when I was there!" How convinced we are of Conrad's unimpeachable -veracity! How like him are those remembered details, "the nailed -doors," "the fine stone hands," "at arm's-length"!--and can we not sniff -something of the author's impatience to let himself go and tell us more -about that "hammer-headed horse" of whose adventures with Don Pp he -must remember enough to fill a volume! - -He is able, therefore, upon this foundation {096}of a minute and -scrupulous ralisai to build as fantastic a building as he pleases -without fear of denying Truth. He does not, in _Nostromo_ at any rate, -choose to be fantastic, but he is romantic, and our final impression -of the silver mine and the town under its white shining shadow is -of something both as real and as beautiful as any vision of Keats or -Shelley. But with the colour we remember also the grim tragedy of the -life that has been shown to us. Near to the cathedral and the little -tinkering streets of the guitars were the last awful struggles of the -unhappy Hirsch. We remember Nostromo riding, with his silver buttons, -catching the red flower flung to him out of the crowd, but we remember -also his death and the agony of his defeated pride. Sotillo, the vainest -and most sordid of bandits, is no figure for a fairy story. - -Here, then, is the secret of Conrad's atmosphere. He is the poet, -working through realism, to the poetic vision of life. That intention is -at the heart of his work from the first line of _Almayer s Folly_ to -the last {097}line of _Victory. Nostromo_ is not simply the history of -certain lives that were concerned in a South American revolution. It -_is_ that history, but it is also a vision, a statement of beauty that -has no country, nor period, and sets no barrier of immediate history or -fable for its interpretation.... - -When, however, we come finally to the philosophy that lies behind this -creation of character and atmosphere we perceive, beyond question, -certain limitations. - - -III - -As we have already seen, Conrad is of the firm and resolute conviction -that life is too strong, too clever and too remorseless for the sons of -men. - -It is as though, from some high window, looking down, he were able to -watch some shore, from whose security men were for ever launching little -cockle-shell boats upon a limitless and angry sea. He observes them, as -they advance with confidence, with determination, each with his own sure -{098}ambition of nailing victory to his mast; he alone can see that the -horizon is limitless; he can see farther than they--from his height he -can follow their fortunes, their brave struggles, their fortitude to the -very last. He admires that courage, the simplicity of that faith, but -his irony springs from his knowledge of the inevitable end. - -There are, we may thankfully maintain, other possible views of life, and -it is, surely, Conrad's harshest limitation that he should never be free -from this certain obsession of the vanity of human struggle. So bound -is he by this that he is driven to choose characters who will prove -his faith. We can remember many fine and courageous characters of his -creation, we can remember no single one who is not foredoomed to defeat. -Jim wins, indeed, his victory, but at the close: "And that's the end. He -passes away under a cloud, inscrutable at heart, forgotten, unforgiven, -and excessively romantic.... He goes away from a living woman to -celebrate his pitiless wedding with a shadowy ideal of conduct." -{099}Conrad's ironical smile that has watched with tenderness the -history of Jim's endeavours, proclaims, at the last, that that pursuit -has been vain--as vain as Stein's butterflies. - -And, for the rest, as Mr Curle in his study of Conrad has admirably -observed, every character is faced with the enemy for whom he is, by -character, least fitted. Nostromo, whose heart's desire it is that his -merits should be acclaimed before men, is devoured by the one dragon to -whom human achievements are nothing--lust of treasure. - -M'Whirr, the most unimaginative of men, is opposed by the most -tremendous of God's splendid terrors and, although he saves his ship -from the storm, so blind is he to the meaning of the things that he has -witnessed that he might as well have never been born. Captain Brierley, -watching the degradation of a fellow-creature from a security that -nothing, it seems, can threaten, is himself caught by that very -degradation.... The Beast in the Jungle is waiting ever ready to -leap--the victim is always in his power. {100}It comes from this -philosophy of life that the qualities in the human soul that Conrad most -definitely admires are blind courage and obedience to duty. His men of -brain--Marlowe, Decoud, Stein--are melancholy and ironic: "If you see -far enough you must see how hopeless the struggle is." The only way -to be honestly happy is to have no imagination and, because Conrad is -tender at heart and would have his characters happy, if possible, he -chooses men without imagination. Those are the men of the sea whom he -has known and loved. The men of the land see farther than the men of -the sea and must, therefore, be either fools or knaves. Towards Captain -Anthony, towards Captain Lingard he extends his love and pity. For -Verloc, for Ossipon, for old De Barral he has a disgust that is beyond -words. For the Fynes and their brethren he has contempt. For two women -of the land, Winnie Verloc and Mrs Gould, he reserves his love, and for -them alone, but they have, in their hearts, the simplicity, the honesty -of his own sea captains. {101}This then is quite simply his philosophy. -It has no variation or relief. He will not permit his characters -to escape, he will not himself try to draw the soul of a man who is -stronger than Fate. His ironic melancholy does not, tor an instant, -hamper his interest--that is as keen and acute as is the absorption of -any collector of specimens--but at the end of it all, as with his -own Stein: "He says of him that he is 'preparing to leave all -this: preparing to leave...' while he waves his hand sadly at his -butterflies." - -Utterly opposed is it from the philosophy of the one English writer -whom, in all other ways, Conrad most obviously resembles--Robert -Browning. As philosophers they have no possible ground of communication, -save in the honesty that is common to both of them. As artists, both in -their subjects and their treatment of their subjects, they are, in many -ways, of an amazing resemblance, although the thorough investigation -of that resemblance would need far more space than I can give it here. -Browning's {102}interest in life was derived, on the novelist's side of -him, from his absorption in the affairs, spiritual and physical, of -men and women; on the poet's side, in the question again spiritual -and physical, that arose from those affairs. Conrad has not Browning's -clear-eyed realisation of the necessity of discovering the individual -philosophy that belongs to every individual case--he is too immediately -enveloped in his one overwhelming melancholy analysis. But he has -exactly that eager, passionate pursuit of romance, a romance to be -seized only through the most accurate and honest realism. - -Browning's realism was born of his excitement at the number and interest -of his discoveries; he chose, for instance, in _Sordello_ the most -romantic of subjects, and, having made his choice, found that there was -such a world of realistic detail in the case that, in his excitement, he -forgot that the rest of the world did not know quite as much as he did. -Is not this exactly what we may say of _Nostromo?_ Mr Chesterton has -written of {103}Browning: "He substituted the street with the green -blind for the faded garden of Watteau, and the 'blue spirt of a lighted -match' for the monotony of the evening star." Conrad has substituted for -the lover serenading his mistress' window the passion of a middle-aged, -faded woman for her idiot boy, or the elopement of the daughter of a -fraudulent speculator with an elderly, taciturn sea captain. - -The characters upon whom Robert Browning lavished his affection are -precisely Conrad's characters. Is not Waring Conrad's man? - -And for the rest, is not Mr Sludge own brother to Verloc and old De -Barrel? Bishop Blougram first cousin to the great Personage in _The -Secret Agent_, Captain Anthony brother to Caponsacchi, Mrs Gould sister -to Pompilia? It is not only that Browning and Conrad both investigate -these characters with the same determination to extract the last word -of truth from the matter, not grimly, but with a thrilling beat of the -heart, it is also that the worlds of these {104}two poets are the same. -How deeply would Nostromo, Decoud, Gould, Monyngham, the Verlocs, Flora -de Barrel, M'Whirr, Jim have interested Browning! Surely Conrad has -witnessed the revelation of Caliban, of Childe Roland, of James Lee's -wife, of the figures in the Arezzo tragedy, even of that bishop who -ordered his tomb at St Praxed's Church, with a strange wonder as though -he himself had assisted at these discoveries! - -Finally, _The Ring and the Book_, with its multiplied witnesses, its -statement as a "case" of life, its pursuit of beauty through truth, the -simplicity of the characters of Pompilia, Caponsacchi and the Pope, the -last frantic appeal of Guido, the detail, encrusted thick in the walls -of that superb building--here we can see the highest pinnacle of that -temple that has _Chance, Lord Jim, Nostromo_ amongst its other turrets, -buttresses and towers. - -Conrad is his own master--he has imitated no one, he has created, as -I have already said, his own planet, but the heights to which Browning -carried Romantic-Realism showed {105}the author of _Almayer's Folly_ the -signs of the road that he was to follow. - -If, as has often been said, Browning was as truly novelist as poet, -may we not now say with equal justice that Conrad is as truly poet as -novelist? - - - - -IV--ROMANCE AND REALISM - - -I - -|THE {106}terms, Romance and Realism, have been used of late years -very largely as a means of escape from this business of the creation of -character. The purely romantic novel may now be said to be, in England -at any rate, absolutely dead. Mr Frank Swinnerton, in his study -of _Robert Louis Stevenson_, said: "Stevenson, reviving the -never-very-prosperous romance of England, created a school which has -brought romance to be the sweepings of an old costume-chest;... if -romance is to be conventional in a double sense, if it spring not from a -personal vision of life, but is only a tedious virtuosity, a pretence, -a conscious toy, romance as an art is dead. The art was jaded when Reade -finished his vocifer{107}ous carpet-beating; but it was not dead. And if -it is dead, Stevenson killed it!" - -We may differ very considerably from Mr Swinnerton with regard to -his estimate of Stevenson's present and future literary value without -denying that the date of the publication of _St Ives_ was also the date -of the death of the purely romantic novel. - -But, surely, here, as Mr Swinnerton himself infers, the term "Romantic" -is used in the limited and truncated idea that has formed, lately the -popular idea of Romance. In exactly the same way the term "Realism" has, -recently, been most foolishly and uncritically handicapped. Romance, in -its modern use, covers everything that is removed from reality: "I like -romances," we hear the modern reader say, "because they take me away -from real life, which I desire to forget." In the same way Realism is -defined by its enemies as a photographic enumeration of unimportant -facts by an observant pessimist. "I like realism," admirers of a certain -order of novel {108}exclaim, "because it is so like life. It tells me -just what I myself see every day--I know where I am." - -Nevertheless, impatient though we may be of these utterly false ideas -of Romance and Realism, a definition of those terms that will satisfy -everyone is almost impossible. I cannot hope to achieve so exclusive -an ambition--I can only say that to myself Realism is the study of -life with all the rational faculties of observation, reason and -reminiscence--Romance is the study of life with the faculties of -imagination. I do not mean that Realism may not be emotional, -poetic, even lyrical, but it is based always upon truth perceived and -recorded---it is the essence ol observation. In the same way Romance -may be, indeed must be, accurate and defined in its own world, but its -spirit is the spirit of imagination, working often upon observation and -sometimes simply upon inspiration. It is, at any rate, understood here -that the word Romance does not, for a moment, imply a necessary -divorce from reality, nor does {109}Realism imply a detailed and dusty -preference for morbid and unagreeable subjects. It is possible for -Romance to be as honestly and clearly perceptive as Realism, but it is -not so easy for it to be so because imagination is more difficult -of discipline than observation. It is possible for Realism to be as -eloquent and potential as Romance, although it cannot so easily achieve -eloquence because of its fear of deserting truth. Moreover, with regard -to the influence of foreign literature upon the English novel, it may -be suggested that the influence of the French novel, which was at its -strongest between the years of 1885 and 1895, was towards Realism, and -that the influence of the Russian novel, which has certainly been -very strongly marked in England during the last years, is all towards -Romantic-Realism. If we wished to know exactly what is meant by -Romantic-Realism, such a novel as _The Brothers Karamazov_, such a -play as _The Cherry Orchard_ are there before us, as the best possible -examples. We might say, in a word, that _Karamazov_ has, in the England -{110}of 1915, taken the place that was occupied, in 1890, by _Madame -Bovary_.... - - -II - -It is Joseph Conrad whose influence is chiefly responsible for this -development in the English novel. Just as, in the early nineties, -Mr Henry James and Mr Rudyard Kipling, the one potential, the other -kinetic, influenced, beyond all contemporary novelists, the minds of -their younger generation, so to-day, twenty-five years later, do Mr -Joseph Conrad and Mr H. G. Wells, the one potential, the other kinetic, -hold that same position. - -Joseph Conrad, from the very first, influenced though he was by the -French novel, showed that Realism alone was not enough for him. That is -to say that, in presenting the case of Almayer, it was not enough for -him merely to state as truthfully as possible the facts. Those facts, -sordid as they are, make the story of Almayer's degradation sufficiently -realistic, when it is merely {111}recorded and perceived by any -observer. But upon these recorded facts Conrad's imagination, without -for a moment deserting the truth, worked, beautifying, ennobling it, -giving it pity and terror, above all putting it mto relation with the -whole universe, the whole history of the cycle of life and death. - -As I have said, the Romantic novel, in its simplest form, was used, very -often, by writers who wished to escape from the business of the creation -of character. It had not been used for that purpose by Sir Walter Scott, -who was, indeed, the first English Romantic-Realist, but it was so used -by his successors, who found a little optimism, a little adventure, a -little colour and a little tradition go a long way towards covering the -required ground. - -Conrad had, from the first, a poet's--that is to say, a romantic--mind, -and his determination to use that romance realistically was simply his -determination to justify the full play of his romantic mind in the eyes -of all honest men. {112}In that intention he has absolutely succeeded; -he has not abated one jot of his romance--_Nostromo, Lord Jim, Heart -of Darkness_ are amongst the most romantic things in all our -literature--but the last charge that any critic can make against him is -falsification, whether of facts, of inference or of consequences. - -The whole history of his development has for its key-stone this -determination to save his romance by his reality, to extend his reality -by his romance. He found in English fiction little that could assist him -in this development; the Russian novelists were to supply him with his -clue. This whole question of Russian influence is difficult to define, -but that Conrad has been influenced by Turgniev a little and by -Dostoievsky very considerably, cannot be denied. _Crime and Punishment, -The Idiot, The Possessed, The Brothers Karamazov_ are romantic realism -at the most astonishing heights that this development of the novel is -ever likely to attain. We will never see again heroes of the Prince -Myshkin, Dmitri Karamazov, {113}Nicolas Stavrogin build, men so real to -us that no change of time or place, age or sickness can take them from -us, men so beautifully lit with the romantic passion of Dostoievsky's -love of humanity that they seem to warm the whole world, as we know it, -with the fire of their charity. That power of creating figures typical -as well as individual has been denied to Conrad. Captain Anthony, -Nostromo, Jim do not belong to the whole world, nor do they escape the -limitations and confinements that their presentation as "cases" involves -on them. Moreover, Conrad does not love humanity. He feels pity, -tenderness, admiration, but love, except for certain of his sea heroes, -never, and even with his sea heroes it is love built on his scorn of -the land. Dostoievsky scorned no one and nothing; as relentless in his -pursuit of the truth as Stendhal or Flaubert, he found humanity, as -he investigated it, beautiful because of its humanity--Conrad finds -humanity pitiable because of its humanity. - -Nevertheless he has been influenced by {114}the Russian writer -continuously and sometimes obviously. In at least one novel, _Under -Western Eyes_, the influence has led to imitation. For that reason, -perhaps, that novel is the least vital of all his books, and we feel as -though Dostoievsky had given him Razumov to see what he could make of -him, and had remained too overwhelmingly curious an onlooker to allow -independent creation. What, however, Conrad has in common with the -creator of Raskolnikov is his thrilling pursuit of the lives, the -hearts, the minutest details of his characters. Conrad alone of all -English novelists shares this zest with the great Russian. Dostoievsky -found his romance in his love of his fellow-beings, Conrad finds his in -his love of beauty, his poet's cry for colour, but their realism they -find together in the hearts of men--and they find it not as Flaubert, -that they make of it a perfect work of art, not as Turgniev, that they -may extract from it a flower of poignant beauty, not as Tolstoi, that -they may, from it, found a gospel--simply they pursue their quest -{115}because the breathless interest of the pursuit is stronger than -they. They have, both of them, created characters simply because -characters demanded to be created. We feel that Emma Bovary was -dragged, painfully, arduously, against all the strength of her -determination, out of the shades where she was lurking. Myshkin, the -Karamazovs, and, in their own degree, Nostromo, Almayer, M'Whirr, -demanded that they should be flung upon the page. - -Instead of seizing upon Romance as a means of avoiding character, he -has triumphantly forced it to aid him in the creation of the lives that, -through him, demand existence. This may be said to be the great thing -that Conrad has done for the English novel--he has brought the zest of -creation back into it; the French novelists used life to perfect their -art--the Russian novelists used art to liberate their passion for life. -That at this moment in Russia the novel has lost that zest, that the -work of Kouprin, Artzybashev, Sologub, Merejkovsky, Andreiev, shows -exhaustion and sterility {116}means nothing; the stream will soon ran -full again. Meanwhile we, in England, know once more what it is to feel, -in the novel, the power behind the novelist, to be ourselves in the grip -of a force that is not afraid of romance nor ashamed of realism, that -cares for life as life and not as a means of proving the necessity for -form, the danger of too many adjectives, the virtues of the divorce laws -or the paradise of free love. - - -III - -Finally, what will be the effect of the work of Joseph Conrad upon the -English novel of the future? Does this Romantic-Realism that he has -provided for us show any signs of influencing that future? I think that -it does. In the work of all of the more interesting younger English -novelists--in the work of Mr E. M. Forster, Mr D. H. Lawrence, Mr J. -D. Beresford, Mr W. L. George, Mr Frank Swinnerton, Air Gilbert Gannan, -Miss Viola Meynell, Mr Brett Young--this influence is to be detected. -{117}Even with such avowed realists as Mr Beresford, Mr George and Mr -Swinnerton the realism is of a nature very different from the realism -of even ten years ago, as can be seen at once by comparing so recent -a novel as Mr Swinnerton's _On the Staircase_ with Mr Arnold Bennett's -_Sacred and Profane Love_, or Mr Galsworthy's _Man of Property_--and Mr -E. M. Forster is a romantic-realist of most curious originality, whose -_Longest Journey_ and _Howard's End_ may possibly provide the historian -of English literature with dates as important as the publication of -_Almayer's Folly_ in 1895. The answer to this question does not properly -belong to this essay. - -It is, at any rate, certain that neither the old romance nor the old -realism can return. We have been shown in _Nostromo_ something that has -the colour of _Treasure Island_ and the reality of _New Grub Street_. -If, on the one hand, the pessimists lament that the English novel is -dead, that everything that can be done has been done, there is, surely, -on the other hand, some justification for the optimists who believe that -at few periods in {118}English literature has the novel shown more signs -of a thrilling and original future. - -For signs of the possible development of Conrad himselt one may glance -for a moment at his last novel, _Victory_. - -The conclusion of _Chance_ and the last volume of short stories had -shown that there was some danger lest romance should divorce him, -ultimately, from reality. _Victory_, splendid tale though it is, does -not entirely reassure us. The theme of the book is the pursuit of -almost helpless uprightness and innocence by almost helpless evil and -malignancy; that is to say that the strength and virtue of Heyst and -Lena are as elemental and independent of human will and effort as -the villainy and slime of Mr Jones and Ricardo. Conrad has here then -returned to his old early demonstration that nature is too strong for -man and I feel as though, in this book, he had intended the whole affair -to be blown, finally, sky-high by some natural volcanic eruption. He -prepares for that eruption and when, for some reason or another, -that elemental catastrophe is pre{119}vented he consoles himself -by strewing the beach of his island with the battered corpses of his -characters. It is in such a wanton conclusion, following as it does -immediately upon the finest, strongest and most beautiful thing in the -whole of Conrad--the last conversation between Heyst and Lena--that we -see this above-mentioned divorce from reality. We see it again in the -more fantastic characteristics of Mr Jones and Ricardo, in the presence -of the Orang Outang, and in other smaller and less important effects. -At the same time his realism, when he pleases, as in the arrival of the -boat of the thirst maddened trio on the island beach, is as magnificent -in its austerity and truth as ever it was. - -Will he allow his imagination to carry him wildly into fantasy and -incredibility? He has not, during these last years, exerted the -discipline and restraint that were once his law. - -Nevertheless, at the last, when one looks back over twenty years, -from the _Almayer's Folly_ of 1895 to the _Victory_ of 1915, one -{120}realises that it was, for the English novel, no mean nor -insignificant fortune that brought the author of those books to our -shores to give a fresh impetus to the progress of our literature and to -enrich our lives with a new world of character and high adventure. - - - - -A SHORT BIBLIOGRAPHY OF JOSEPH CONRAD'S PRINCIPAL WRITINGS - -[The date is given of the first edition of each hook. New edition -signifies a change of format or transference to a different publisher.] - -Almayer's Folly. A Story of an Eastern River (Unwin). 1895. New -editions. (Nash). 1904; (Unwin). 1909, 1914, 1915. - -An Outcast of the Islands (Unwin). 1896, New edition, 1914. - -The Nigger of the "Narcissus": A Tale of the Sea (Heinemann). 1897. New -edition, 1910. - -Tales of Unrest (Unwin). 1898. New edition, 1909. - -Lord Jim: A Tale (Blackwood). 1900. New edition, 1914. - -The Inheritors: An Extravagant Story. By Joseph Conrad and Ford M. -Hueffer (Heinemann). 1901. - -Youth: a Narrative, and Two Other Stories (Black wood). 1902. - -Typhoon and Other Stories (Heinemann). 1903. New edition, 1912. - -Romance: A Novel. By Joseph Conrad and Ford Madox Hueffer (Smith, -Elder). 1903. New edition (Aelson). 1909. - -Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard (Harder). 1904. The Mirror of the Sea: -Memories and Impressions (Methuen). 1903. New editions, 1913, 1915. The -Secret Agent: A Simple Tale (Methuen). 1907. - -New edition, 1914. - -A Set of Six: Tales (Methuen). 1908 Under Western Eyes (Methuen). 1911. -New edition, 1915. - -Some Reminiscences (Nash). 1912. - -Twixt Land and Sea: Tales (Dent). 1912. New edition, 1914. - -Chance: A Tale in Two Parts (Methuen). 1914. Within the Tides: Tales -(Dent). 1915. - -Victory: An Island Tale (Methuen). 1915. - - - - -AMERICAN BIBLIOGRAPHY - -{123}Almayer's Folly: A Story of an Eastern River (_Macmillan_). 1895. -New editions, 1912; (_Doubleday_). 1911. - -An Outcast of the Islands (_Appleton_). 1896. New edition (_Doubleday_). -1914. - -Children of the Sea: A Tale of the Forecastle (_Dodd, Mead_). 1897. -New edition, 1912. New edition under English title: "The Nigger of the -'Narcissus'" (_Doubleday_). 1914. - -Tales of Unrest (_Scribner_). 1898. - -Lord Jim (_Doubleday_) 1900. New edition, 1914. - -The Inheritors. By Joseph Conrad and Ford M. Hueffer (_McClure Co._). -1901. - -Typhoon (_Putman_). 1902. New edition (_Doubleday_). 1914. - -Youth, and two Other Stories (_McClure Co_. Afterwards transferred to -_Doubleday_). 1903. - -Falk: Amy Foster: Tomorrow [Three Stories] (_McClure Co._). 1903. New -edition (_Doubleday_). 1914. - -Romance. By Joseph Conrad and Ford Madox Hueffer (_McClure Co_. -Afterwards transferred to _Doubleday_). 1904. - -Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard (_Harper_), 1904. {124}The Mirror of -the Sea: Memories and Impressions (_Harper_). 1906. - -The Secret Agent: A Simple Tale (_Harper_). 1907. - -A Point of Honour: A Military Tale (_McClure Co_. Afterwards transferred -to _Doubleday_). 1908. Under Western Eyes: A Novel (_Harper_). 1911. - -A Personal Retold (_Harper_). 1912. - -'Twist Land and Sea: Tales (_Doran_). 1912. New edition (_Doubleday_). -1911. - -Chance: A Tale in Two Parts (_Doubleday_). 1914. - -A Set of Six [Tales: one, "The Duel." previously issued as "A Point of -Honour"] (_Doubleday_). 1915. - -Victory: An Island Tale (_Doubleday_). 1915. - -Within the Tides: Tales (_Doubleday_). 1916. - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Joseph Conrad, by Hugh Walpole - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOSEPH CONRAD *** - -***** This file should be named 52453-8.txt or 52453-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/4/5/52453/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/52453-8.zip b/old/52453-8.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index ff04ac5..0000000 --- a/old/52453-8.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52453-h.zip b/old/52453-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index ad2840b..0000000 --- a/old/52453-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52453-h/52453-h.htm b/old/52453-h/52453-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index bac5a79..0000000 --- a/old/52453-h/52453-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3006 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> - -<!DOCTYPE html - PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> - <title> - Joseph Conrad, by Hugh Walpole - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - - body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} - .x-small {font-size: 75%;} - .small {font-size: 85%;} - .large {font-size: 115%;} - .x-large {font-size: 130%;} - .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} - .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} - .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} - .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} - .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} - .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; - font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; - text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; - border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} - .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} - span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - -</style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Joseph Conrad, by Hugh Walpole - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Joseph Conrad - -Author: Hugh Walpole - -Release Date: June 30, 2016 [EBook #52453] -Last Updated: November 20, 2016 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOSEPH CONRAD *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - JOSEPH CONRAD - </h1> - <h2> - By Hugh Walpole - </h2> - <h4> - New York: Henry Holt And Company - </h4> - <h3> - 1916 - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0008.jpg" alt="0008 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0008.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0009.jpg" alt="0009 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0009.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <h3> - TO - </h3> - <h3> - SIR SIDNEY COLVIN - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I—BIOGRAPHY </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II—THE NOVELIST </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III—THE POET </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> IV—ROMANCE AND REALISM </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> A SHORT BIBLIOGRAPHY OF JOSEPH CONRAD’S - PRINCIPAL WRITINGS </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> AMERICAN BIBLIOGRAPHY </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#linkindex"> INDEX </a> - </p> - - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - I—BIOGRAPHY - </h2> - <h3> - I - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>O any<span - class="pagenum">7</span><a name="link007" id="link007"></a> reader of the - books of Joseph Conrad it must be at once plain that his immediate - experiences and impressions of life have gone very directly to the making - of his art. It may happen often enough that an author’s artistic life is - of no importance to the critic and that his dealing with it is merely a - personal impertinence and curiosity, but with the life of Joseph Conrad - the critic has something to do, because, again and again, this writer - deliberately evokes the power of personal reminiscence, charging it with - the burden of his philosophy and the creation of his characters. - </p> - <p> - With the details of his life we cannot, in any way, be concerned, but with - the three backgrounds against whose form and colour <span class="pagenum">8</span><a - name="link008" id="link008"></a>his art has been placed we have some - compulsory connection. - </p> - <p> - Joseph Conrad (Teodor Josef Konrad Karzeriowski) was born on 6th December - 1857, and his birthplace was the Ukraine in the south of Poland. In 1862 - his father, who had been concerned in the last Polish rebellion, was - banished to Vologda. The boy lived with his mother and father there until - his mother died, when he was sent back to the Ukraine. In 1870 his lather - died. - </p> - <p> - Conrad was then sent to school in Cracow and there he remained until 1874, - when, following an absolutely compelling impulse, he went to sea. In the - month of May, 1878, he first landed on English ground; he knew at that - time no English but learnt rapidly, and in the autumn of 1878 joined the - <i>Duke of Sutherland</i> as ordinary seaman. He became a Master in the - English Merchant Service in 1884, in which year he was naturalised. In - 1894 he left the sea, whose servant he had been for nearly twenty years: - he sent the manuscript of a novel that he had been writing at various - periods during <span class="pagenum">9</span><a name="link009" id="link009"></a>his - sea life to Mr Fisher Unwin. With that publisher’s acceptance of <i>Almayer’s - Folly</i> the third period of his life began. Since then his history has - been the history of his books. - </p> - <p> - Looking for an instant at the dramatic contrast and almost ironical - relationship of these three backgrounds—Poland, the Sea, the inner - security and tradition of an English country-side—one can realise - what they may make of an artist. That early Polish atmosphere, viewed - through all the deep light and high shade of a remembered childhood, may - be enough to give life and vigour to any poet’s temperament. The romantic - melancholy born of early years in such an atmosphere might well plant - deeply in any soul the ironic contemplation of an impossible freedom. - </p> - <p> - Growing into youth in a land whose farthest bounds were held by unlawful - tyranny, Conrad may well have contemplated the sea as the one unlimited - monarchy of freedom and, even although he were too young to realise what - impulses <span class="pagenum">10</span><a name="link010" id="link010"></a>those - were that drove him, he may have felt that space and size and the force of - a power stronger than man were the only conditions of possible liberty. He - sought those conditions, found them and clung to them; he found, too, an - ironic pity for men who could still live slaves and prisoners to other men - when to them also such freedom was possible. That ironic pity he never - afterwards lost, and the romance that was in him received a mighty impulse - from that contrast that he was always now to contemplate. He discovered - the Sea and paid to her at once his debt of gratitude and obedience. He - thought it no hard thing to obey her when he might, at the same time, so - honestly admire her and she has remained for him, as an artist, the only - personality that he has been able wholeheartedly to admire. He found in - her something stronger than man and he must have triumphed in the - contemplation of the dominion that she could exercise, if she would, over - the tyrannies that he had known in his childhood. <span class="pagenum">11</span><a - name="link011" id="link011"></a>He found, too, in her service, the type of - man who, most strongly, appealed to him. He had known a world composed of - threats, fugitive rebellions, wild outbursts of defiance, inefficient - struggles against tyranny, he was in the company now of those who realised - so completely the relationship of themselves and their duty to their - master and their service that there was simply nothing to be said about - it. England had, perhaps, long ago called to him with her promise of - freedom, and now on an English ship he realised the practice and - performance of that freedom, indulged in, as it was, with the fewest - possible words. Moreover, with his fund of romantic imagination, he must - have been pleased by the contrast of his present company, men who, by - sheer lack of imagination, ruled and served the most imaginative force in - nature. The wonders of the sea, by day and by night, were unnoticed by his - companions, and he admired their lack of vision. Too much vision had - driven his country under the heel of Tyranny, had bred in himself a - despair of <span class="pagenum">12</span><a name="link012" id="link012"></a>any - possible freedom for far-seeing men; now he was a citizen of a world where - freedom reigned because men could not perceive how it could be otherwise; - the two sides of the shield were revealed to him. - </p> - <p> - Then, towards the end of his twenty years’ service of the sea, the - creative impulse in him demanded an outlet. He wrote, at stray moments of - opportunity during several years, a novel, wrote it for his pleasure and - diversion, sent it finally to a publisher with all that lack of confidence - in posts and publishers that every author, who cares for his creations, - will feel to the end of his days. He has said that if <i>Almayer’s Folly</i> - had been refused he would never have written again, but we may well - believe that, let the fate of that book be what it might, the energy and - surprise of his discovery of the sea must have been declared to the world. - <i>Almayer’s Folly</i>, however, was not rejected; its publication caused - <i>The Spectator</i> to remark: “The name of Mr Conrad is new to us, but - it appears to us as if he might become the Kipling of the Malay - Archipelago.” He <span class="pagenum">13</span><a name="link013" id="link013"></a>had, therefore, encouragement of the most dignified kind - from the beginning. He himself, however, may have possibly regarded that - day in 1897 when Henley accepted <i>The Nigger of the Narcissus</i> for <i>The - New Review</i> as a more important date in his new career. That date may - serve for the commencement of the third period of his adventure. - </p> - <p> - The quiet atmosphere of the England that he had adopted made the final, - almost inevitable contrast with the earlier periods. With such a country - behind him it was possible for him to contemplate in peace the whole - “case” of his earlier life. It was as a “case” that he saw it, a “case” - that was to produce all those other “cases” that were his books. This has - been their history. - </p> - <h3> - II - </h3> - <p> - His books, also, find naturally a division into three parts; the first - period, beginning with <i>Almayer’s Folly</i> in 1895, ended with <i>Lord - Jim</i> in 1900. The second contains <span class="pagenum">14</span><a - name="link014" id="link014"></a>the two volumes of <i>Youth</i> and <i>Typhoon</i>, - the novel <i>Romance</i> that he wrote in collaboration with Ford Madox - Hueffer, and ends with <i>Nostromo</i>, published in 1903. The third - period begins, after a long pause, in 1907 with <i>The Secret Agent</i>, - and receives its climax with the remarkable popularity of <i>Chance</i> in - 1914, and <i>Victory</i> (1915). - </p> - <p> - His first period was a period of struggle, struggle with a foreign - language, struggle with a technique that was always, from the point of - view of the “schools,” to remain too strong for him, struggles with the - very force and power of his reminiscences that were urging themselves upon - him, now at the moment of their contemplated freedom, like wild beasts - behind iron bars. <i>Almayer’s Folly</i> and <i>The Outcast of the Islands</i> - (the first of these is sequel to the second) were remarkable in the - freshness of their discovery of a new world. It was not that their world - had not been found before, but rather that Conrad, by the force of his own - individual discovery, proclaimed his find with a new voice and a new - vigour. In the <span class="pagenum">15</span><a name="link015" id="link015"></a>character of Almayer, of Aissa, of Willems, of Bahalatchi - and Abdulla there was a new psychology that gave promise of great things. - Nevertheless these early stories were overcharged with atmosphere, were - clumsy in their development and conveyed in then style a sense of rhetoric - and lack of ease. His vision of his background was pulled out beyond its - natural intensity and his own desire to make it overwhelming was so - obvious as to frighten the creature into a determination to be, simply out - of malicious perversity, anything else. - </p> - <p> - These two novels were followed by a volume of short stories, <i>Tales of - Unrest</i>, that reveal, quite nakedly, Conrad’s difficulties. One study - in this book, <i>The Return</i>, with its redundancies and overemphasis, - is the crudest parody on its author and no single tale in the volume - succeeds. It was, however, as though, with these efforts, Conrad flung - himself free, for ever, from his apprenticeship; there appeared in 1898 - what remains perhaps still his most perfect work, <i>The Nigger of the - Narcissus</i>. This <span class="pagenum">16</span><a name="link016" id="link016"></a>was a story entirely of the sea, of the voyage of a ship - from port to port and of the influence upon that ship and upon the human - souls that she contained, of the approaching shadow of death, an influence - ironical, melancholy, never quite horrible, and always tender and - humorous. Conrad must himself have loved, beyond all other vessels, the <i>Narcissus</i>. - Never again, except perhaps in <i>The Mirror of the Sea</i>, was he to be - so happily at his ease with any of his subjects. The book is a gallery of - remarkably distinct and authentic portraits, the atmosphere is held in - perfect restraint, and the overhanging theme is never, for an instant, - abandoned. It is, above all, a record of lovingly cherished reminiscence. - Of cherished reminiscence also was the book that closed the first period - of his work, <i>Lord Jim</i>. This was to remain, until the publication of - <i>Chance</i>, his most popular novel. It is the story of a young - Englishman’s loss of honour in a moment of panic and his victorious - recovery. The first half of the book is a finely sustained development of - a <span class="pagenum">17</span><a name="link017" id="link017"></a>vividly - remembered scene, the second half has the inevitability of a moral idea - pursued to its romantic end rather than the inevitability of life. Here - then in 1900 Conrad had worked himself free of the underground of the - jungle and was able to choose his path. His choice was still dictated by - the subjects that he remembered most vividly, but upon these rewards of - observation his creative genius was working. James Wait, Donkin, Jim, - Marlowe were men whom he had known, but men also to whom he had given a - new birth. - </p> - <p> - There appeared now in <i>Youth, Heart of Darkness</i> and <i>Typhoon</i> - three of the finest short stories in the English language, work of - reminiscence, but glowing at its heart with all the lyrical exultation and - flame of a passion that had been the ruling power of a life that was now - to be abandoned. That salutation of farewell is in <i>Youth</i> and its - evocation of the East, in <i>The Heart of Darkness</i> and its evocation - of the forests that are beyond civilisation, in <i>Typhoon</i> and its - evocation of the sea. He was never, after <span class="pagenum">18</span><a - name="link018" id="link018"></a>these tales, to write again of the sea as - though he were still sailing on it. From this time he belonged, with - regret, and with some ironic contempt, to the land. - </p> - <p> - This second period closed with the production of a work that was - deliberately created rather than reminiscent, <i>Nostromo</i>. Conrad may - have known Dr Monyngham, Decoud, Mrs Could, old Viola; but; they became - stronger than he and, in their completed personalities, owed no man - anything for their creation. There is much to be said about <i>Nostromo</i>, - in many ways the greatest of all Conrad’s works, but, for the moment, one - would only say that its appearance (it appeared first, of all ironical - births, in a journal—<i>T.P.‘s Weekly</i>—and astonished and - bewildered its readers week by week, by its determination not to finish - and yield place to something simpler) caused no comment whatever, that its - critics did not understand it, and its author’s own admirers were puzzled - by its unlikeness to the earlier sea stories. - </p> - <p> - <i>Nostromo</i> was followed by a pause—one <span class="pagenum">19</span><a - name="link019" id="link019"></a>can easily imagine that its production - did, for a moment, utterly exhaust its creator. When, however, in 1907 - appeared <i>The Secret Agent</i>, a new attitude was most plainly visible. - He was suddenly detached, writing now of “cases” that interested him as an - investigator of human life, but called from his heart no burning - participation of experience. He is tender towards Winnie Verloc and her - old mother, the two women in <i>The Secret Agent</i>, but he studies them - quite dispassionately. That love that clothed Jim so radiantly, that - fierce contempt that in <i>An Outcast of the Islands</i> accompanied - Willems to his degraded death, is gone. We have the finer artist, but we - have lost something of that earlier compelling interest. <i>The Secret - Agent</i> is a tale of secret service in London; it contains the - wonderfully created figure of Verloc and it expresses, to the full, - Conrad’s hatred of those rows and rows of bricks and mortar that are so - completely accepted by unimaginative men. In 1911 <i>Under Western Eyes</i> - spoke strongly of a Russian influence <span class="pagenum">20</span><a - name="link020" id="link020"></a>Turgéniev and Dostoievsky had too markedly - their share in the creation of Razumov and the cosmopolitan circle in - Geneva. Moreover, it is a book whose heart is cold. - </p> - <p> - A volume of short stories, <i>A Set of Six</i>, illustrating still more - emphatically Conrad’s new detachment, appeared in 1908 and is remarkable - chiefly for an ironically humorous story of the Napoleonic wars—<i>The - Duel</i>—a tale too long, perhaps, but admirable for its sustained - note. In 1912 he seemed, in another volume, <i>‘Twixt Land and Sea</i>, to - unite some of his earlier glow with all his later mastery of his method. - <i>A Smile, of Fortune</i> and <i>The Secret Sharer</i> are amazing in the - beauty of retrospect that they leave behind them in the soul of the - reader. The sea is once more revealed to us, but it is revealed now as - something that Conrad has conquered. His contact with the land has taken - from him something of his earlier intimacy with his old mistress. - Nevertheless <i>The Secret Sharer</i> is a most marvellous story, - marvellous in its completeness of theme and treatment, marvellous in the - <span class="pagenum">21</span><a name="link021" id="link021"></a>contrast - between the confined limitations of its stage and the vast implications of - its moral idea. Finally in 1914 appeared <i>Chance</i>, by no means the - finest of his books, but catching the attention and admiration of that - wider audience who had remained indifferent to the force and beauty of <i>The - Nigger of the Narcissus</i>, of <i>Lord Jim</i>, of <i>Nostromo</i>. With - the popular success of <i>Chance</i> the first period of his work is - closed. On the possible results of that popularity, their effect on the - artist and on the whole world of men, one must offer, here at any rate, no - prophecy. - </p> - <h3> - III - </h3> - <p> - To any reader who cares, seriously, to study the art of Joseph Conrad, no - better advice could be offered than that he should begin with the reading - of the two volumes that have been omitted from the preceding list. <i>Some - Reminiscences</i> and <i>The Mirror of the Sea</i> demand consideration on - the threshold of any survey of this author’s work, because <span - class="pagenum">22</span><a name="link022" id="link022"></a>they reveal, - from a personal, wilful and completely anarchistic angle, the - individuality that can only be discovered, afterwards, objectively, in the - process of creation. - </p> - <p> - In both these books Conrad is, quite simply, himself for anyone who cares - to read. They are books dictated by no sense of precedent nor form nor - fashion. They are books of their own kind, even more than are the novels. - <i>Some Reminiscences</i> has only <i>Tristram Shandy</i> for its rival in - the business of getting everything done without moving a step forward. <i>The - Mirror of the Sea</i> has no rival at all. - </p> - <p> - We may suppose that the author did really intend to write his - reminiscences when he began. He found a moment that would make, a good - starting-point, a moment in the writing of his first book, <i>Almayer’s - Folly</i>, at the conclusion or, more truly, cessation of <i>Some - Reminiscences</i>, that moment is still hanging in mid-air, the writing of - <i>Almayer</i> has not proceeded two lines farther down the stage, the - maid-servant, is still standing in the doorway, the hands of <span - class="pagenum">23</span><a name="link023" id="link023"></a>the clock have - covered five minutes of the dial. What has occurred is simply that the - fascination of the subject has been too strong. It is of the very essence - of Conrad’s art that one thing so powerfully suggests to him another that - to start him on anything at all is a tragedy, because life is so short. - His reminiscences would be easy enough to command would they only not take - on a life of their own and shout at their unfortunate author: “Ah! yes. - I’m interesting, of course, but don’t you remember...?” - </p> - <p> - The whole adventure of writing his first book is crowded with incident, - not because he considers it a wonderful book or himself a marvellous - figure, but simply because any incident in the world must, in his eyes, be - crowded about with other incidents. There is the pen one wrote the book - with, that pen that belonged to poor old Captain B———— - of the <i>Nonsuch</i> who... or there is the window just behind the - writing-table that looked out into the river, that river that reminds one - of the year ‘88 when... - </p> - <p> - In the course of his thrilling voyage of <span class="pagenum">24</span><a - name="link024" id="link024"></a>discovery we are, by a kind of most - blessed miracle, told something of Mr Nicholas B. and of the author’s own - most fascinating uncle. We even, by an extension of the miracle, learn - something of Conrad as ship’s officer (this the merest glimpse) and as a - visitor to his uncle’s house in Poland. - </p> - <p> - So by chance are these miraculous facts and glimpses that we catch at them - with eager, extended hands, praying, imploring them to stay; indeed those - glimpses may seem to us the more wonderful in that they have been, by us, - only partially realised. - </p> - <p> - Nevertheless, in spite of its eager incoherence, at the same time both - breathless, and, by the virtue of its author’s style, solemn, we do - obtain, in addition to our glimpses of Poland and the sea, one or two - revelations of Conrad himself. Our revelations come to us partly through - our impression of his own zest for life, a zest always ironical, often - sceptical, but always eager and driven by a throbbing impulse of vitality. - Partly also through certain deliberate utterances. He tells us: <span - class="pagenum">25</span><a name="link025" id="link025"></a>"Those who - read me know my conviction that the world, the temporal world, rests on a - few very simple ideas; so simple that they must be as old as the hills. It - rests, notably, amongst others, on the idea of Fidelity. At a time when - nothing which is not revolutionary in some way or other can expect to - attract much attention I have not been revolutionary in my writings.” - (Page 20.) - </p> - <p> - Or again: - </p> - <p> - “All claim to special righteousness awakens in me that scorn and anger - from which a philosophical mind should be free.” (Page 21.) - </p> - <p> - Or again: - </p> - <p> - “Even before the most seductive reveries I have remained mindful of that - sobriety of interior life, that asceticism of sentiment, in which alone - the naked form of truth, such as one conceives it, such as one feels it, - can be rendered without shame.” (Page 194.) - </p> - <p> - This simplicity, this fidelity, this hatred of self-assertion and - self-satisfaction, this sobriety—these qualities do give some - implication of the colour of the work that will <span class="pagenum">26</span><a - name="link026" id="link026"></a>arise from them; and when to these - qualities we add that before-mentioned zest and vigour we must have some - true conception of the nature of the work that he was to do. - </p> - <p> - It is for this that <i>Some Reminiscences</i> is valuable. To read it as a - detached work, to expect from it the amiable facetiousness of a book of - modern memories or the heavy authoritative coherence of the <i>My - Autobiography</i> or <i>My Life</i> of some eminent scientist or - theologian, is to be most grievously disappointed. - </p> - <p> - If the beginning is bewilderment the end is an impression of crowding, - disordered life, of a tapestry richly dark, with figures woven into the - very thread of it and yet starting to life with an individuality all their - own. No book reveals more clearly the reasons both of Conrad’s faults and - of his merits. No book of his is more likely by reason of its honesty and - simplicity to win him true friends. As a work of art there is almost - everything to be said against it, except that it has that supreme gift - that remains, at the end, almost all that we ask of any work of <span - class="pagenum">27</span><a name="link027" id="link027"></a>art, - overwhelming vitality. But it is formless, ragged, incoherent, - inconclusive, a fragment of eager, vivid, turbulent reminiscence poured - into a friend’s ear in a moment of sudden confidence. That may or may not - be the best way to conduct reminiscences; the book remains a supremely - intimate, engaging and enlightening introduction to its author. - </p> - <p> - With <i>The Mirror of the Sea</i> we are on very different ground. As I - have already said, this is Conrad’s happiest book—indeed, with the - possible exception of <i>The Nigger of the Narcissus</i>, his only happy - book. He is happy because he is able, for a moment, to forget his - distrust, his dread, his inherent ironical pessimism. He is here - permitting himself the whole range of his enthusiasm and admiration, and - behind that enthusiasm there is a quiet, sure confidence that is strangely - at variance with the distrust of his later novels. - </p> - <p> - The book seems at first sight to be a collection of almost haphazard - papers, with such titles as <i>Landfalls and Departures</i>, <span - class="pagenum">28</span><a name="link028" id="link028"></a><i>Overdue and - Missing, Rulers of East and West, The Nursery of the Craft</i>. No reader - however, can conclude it without having conveyed to him a strangely - binding impression of Unity. He has been led, it will seem to him, mto the - very heart of the company of those who know the Sea as she really is, he - has been made free of a great order. - </p> - <p> - The foundation of his intimacy springs from three sources—the - majesty, power and cruelty of the Sea herself, the homely reality of the - lives of the men who serve her, the vibrating, beautiful life of the ships - that sail upon her. This is the Trilogy that holds in its hands the whole - life and pageant of the sea; it is because Conrad holds all three elements - in exact and perfect balance that this book has its unique value, its - power both of realism, for this is the life of man, and of romance, which - is the life of the sea. - </p> - <p> - Conrad’s attitude to the Sea herself, in this book, is one of lyrical and - passionate worship. He sees, with all the vivid accuracy of his realism, - her deceits, her <span class="pagenum">29</span><a name="link029" id="link029"></a>cruelties, her inhuman disregard of the lives of men, - but, finally, her glory is enough for him. He will write of her like this: - </p> - <p> - “The sea—this truth must be confessed—has no generosity. No - display of manly qualities—courage, hardihood, endurance, - faithfulness—has ever been known to touch its irresponsible - consciousness of power. The ocean has the conscienceless temper of a - savage autocrat spoiled by much adulation. He cannot brook the slightest - appearance of defiance, and has remained the irreconcilable enemy of ships - and men ever since ships and men had the unheard-of audacity to go afloat - together in the face of his frown... the most amazing wonder of the deep - is its unfathomable cruelty.” - </p> - <p> - Nevertheless she holds him her most willing slave and he is that because - he believes that she alone in all the world is worthy to indulge this - cruelty. She positively “brings it off,” this assertion of her right, and - once he is assured of that, he will yield absolute obedience. In this - worship of the Sea and the winds that rouse her he allows himself a <span - class="pagenum">30</span><a name="link030" id="link030"></a>lyrical - freedom that he was afterwards to check. He was never again, not even in - <i>Typhoon</i> and <i>Youth</i>, to write with such free and spontaneous - lyricism as in his famous passage about the “West Wind.” - </p> - <p> - <i>The Mirror of the Sea</i> forms then the best possible introduction to - Conrad’s work, because it attests, more magnificently and more confidently - than anything else that he has written, his faith and his devotion. It - presents also, however, in its treatment of the second element of his - subject, the men on the ships, many early sketches of the characters whom - he, both before and afterwards, developed so fully in his novels. About - these same men there are certain characteristics to be noticed, - characteristics that must be treated more fully in a later analysis of - Conrad’s creative power, but that nevertheless demand some mention here as - witnesses of the emotions, the humours, the passions that he, most - naturally, observes. It is, in the first place, to be marked that almost - all the men upon the sea, from “poor Captain B————, - who used <span class="pagenum">31</span><a name="link031" id="link031"></a>to - suffer from sick headaches, in his young days, every time he was - approaching a coast,” to the dramatic Dominic (“from the slow, - imperturbable gravity of that broad-chested man you would think he had - never smiled in his life”), are silent and thoughtful. Granted this - silence, Conrad in his half-mournful, half-humorous survey, is instantly - attracted by any possible contrast. Captain B———- dying - in his home, with two grave, elderly women sitting beside him in the quiet - room, “his eyes resting fondly upon the faces in the room, upon the - pictures on the wall, upon all the familiar objects of that home whose - abiding and clear image must have flashed often on his memory in times of - stress and anxiety at sea”—“poor P————,” - with “his cheery temper, his admiration for the jokes in <i>Punch</i>, his - little oddities—like his strange passion for borrowing - looking-glasses, for instance”—that captain who “did everything with - an air which put your attention on the alert and raised your expectations, - but the result somehow was always on stereotyped <span class="pagenum">32</span><a - name="link032" id="link032"></a>lines, unsuggestive, empty of any lesson - that one could lay to heart”—that other captain in whom “through a - touch of self-seeking that modest artist of solid merit became untrue to - his temperament”—here are little sketches for those portraits that - afterwards we are to know so well, Marlowe, Captain M’Whirr, Captain - Lingard, Captain Mitchell and many others. Here we may fancy that his eye - lingers as though in the mere enumeration of little oddities and - contrasted qualities he sees such themes, such subjects, such “cases” that - it is hard, almost beyond discipline, to leave them. Nevertheless they - have to be left. He has obtained his broader contrast by his juxtaposition - of the curious muddled jumble of the human life against the broad, august - power of the Sea—that is all that his present subject demands, that - is his theme and his picture. - </p> - <p> - Not all his theme, however; there remains the third element in it, the - soul of the ship. It is, perhaps, after all, with the life of the ship - that <i>The Mirror of The Sea</i>, ultimately, has most to do. <span - class="pagenum">33</span><a name="link033" id="link033"></a>As other men - write of the woman they have loved, so does Conrad write of his ships. He - sees them, in this book that is so especially dedicated to their pride and - beauty, coloured with a fine glow of romance, but nevertheless he realises - them with all the accurate detail of a technician who describes his craft. - You may learn of the raising and letting go of an anchor, and he will tell - the journalists of their crime in speaking of “casting” an anchor when the - true technicality is “brought up”—“to an anchor” understood. In the - chapter on “Yachts” he provides as much technical detail as any book of - instruction need demand and then suddenly there come these sentences—“the - art of handling slips is finer, perhaps, than the art of handling men.”... - “A ship is a creature which we have brought into the world, as it were on - purpose to keep us up to mark.” - </p> - <p> - Indeed it is the ship that gives that final impression of unity, of which - I have already spoken, to the book. She grows, as it were, from her birth, - in no ordered sequence of <span class="pagenum">34</span><a name="link034" id="link034"></a>events, but admitting us ever more closely into her - intimacy, telling us, at first shyly, afterwards more boldly, little - things about herself, confiding to us her trials, appealing sometimes to - our admiration, indulging sometimes our humour. Conrad is tender to her as - he is to nothing human. He watches her shy, new, in the dock, “her - reputation all to make yet in the talk of the seamen who were to share - their life with her.”... “She looked modest to me. I imagined her - diffident, lying very quiet, with her side nestling shyly against the - wharf to which she was made fast with very new lines, intimidated by the - company of her tried and experienced bisters already familiar with all the - violences of the ocean and the exacting love of men.” - </p> - <p> - Her friend stands there on the quay and bids her be of good courage; he - salutes her grace and spirit—he echoes, with all the implied irony - of contrast, his companion’s “Ships are all right....” - </p> - <p> - He explains the many kinds of ships that there are—the rogues, the - wickedly malicious, <span class="pagenum">35</span><a name="link035" id="link035"></a>the sly, the benevolent, the proud, the adventurous, the - staid, the decorous. For even the worst of these he has indulgences that - he would never offer to the soul of man. He cannot be severe before such a - world of fine spirits. - </p> - <p> - Finally, in the episode of the <i>Tremolino</i> and her tragic end (an end - that has in it a suggestion of that later story, <i>Freya of the Seven - Inlands</i>), in that sinister adventure of Dominic and the vile Caesar, - he shows us, in miniature, what it is that he intends to do with all this - material. He gives us the soul of the <i>Tremolino</i>, the soul of - Dominic, the soul of the sea upon which they are voyaging. Without ever - deserting the realism upon which he builds his foundations he raises upon - it his house of romance. - </p> - <p> - This book remains by far the easiest, the kindest, the most friendly of - all his books. He has been troubled here by no questions of form, of - creation, of development, whether of character or of incident. - </p> - <p> - It is the best of all possible prologues to his more creative work. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - II—THE NOVELIST - </h2> - <h3> - I - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>N <span - class="pagenum">36</span><a name="link036" id="link036"></a>discussing the - art of any novelist as distinct from the poet or essayist there are three - special questions that we may ask—as to the Theme, as to the Form, - as to the creation of Character. - </p> - <p> - It is possible to discuss these three questions in terms that can be - applied, in no fashion whatever, to the poem or the essay, although the - novel may often more truly belong to the essay or the poem to the novel, - as, for instance, <i>The Ring and the Book</i> and <i>Aurora Leigh</i> - bear witness. All such questions of ultimate classes and divisions are - vain, but these three divisions of Theme, Form and Character do cover many - of the questions that are to be asked about any novelist simply in his - position as novelist <span class="pagenum">37</span><a name="link037" id="link037"></a>and nothing else. That Joseph Conrad is, in his art, most - truly poet as well as novelist no reader of his work will deny. I wish, in - this chapter, to consider him simply as a novelist—that is, as a - narrator of the histories of certain human beings, with his attitude to - those histories. - </p> - <p> - Concerning the form of the novel the English novelists, until the - seventies and eighties of the nineteenth century, worried themselves but - slightly. If they considered the matter they chuckled over their - deliberate freedom, as did Sterne and Fielding. Scott considered - story-telling a jolly business in which one was, also, happily able to - make a fine living, but he never contemplated the matter with any respect. - Jane Austen, who had as much form as any modern novelist, was quite - unaware of her happy possession. The mid-Victorians gloriously abandoned - themselves to the rich independence of shilling numbers, a fashion which - forbade Form as completely as the manners of the time forbade frankness. A - new period began at the end of the fifties; <span class="pagenum">38</span><a - name="link038" id="link038"></a>but no one in 1861 was aware that a novel - called <i>Evan Harrington</i> was of any special importance; it made no - more stir than did <i>Almayer’s Folly</i> in the early nineties, although - the wonderful <i>Richard Feverel</i> had already preceded it. - </p> - <p> - With the coming of George Meredith and Thomas Hardy the Form of the novel, - springing straight from the shores of France, where <i>Madame Bovary</i> - and <i>Une Vie</i> showed what might be done by taking trouble, grew into - a question of considerable import. Robert Louis Stevenson showed how - important it was to say things agreeably, even when you had not very much - to say. Henry James showed that there was so much to say about everything - that you could not possibly get to the end of it, and Rudyard Kipling - showed that the great thing was to see things as they were. At the - beginning of the nineties everyone was immensely busied over the way that - things were done. <i>The Yellow Book</i> sprang into a bright existence, - flamed, and died. “Art for Art’s sake” was slain by the trial of Oscar - Wilde in 1895. - </p> - <p> - <span class="pagenum">39</span><a name="link039" id="link039"></a>Mr - Wells, in addition to fantastic romances, wrote stories about shop - assistants and knew something about biology. The Fabian Society made - socialism entertaining. Mr Bernard Shaw foreshadowed a new period and the - Boer War completed an old one. - </p> - <p> - Of the whole question of Conrad’s place in the history of the English - novel and his influence upon it I wish to speak in a later chapter. I - would simply say here that if he was borne in upon the wind of the French - influence he was himself, in later years, one of the chief agents in its - destruction, but, beginning to write in English as he did in the time of - <i>The Yellow Book</i>, passing through all the realistic reaction that - followed the collapse of aestheticism, seeing the old period washed away - by the storm of the Boer War, he had, especially prepared for him, a new - stage upon which to labour. The time and the season were ideal for the - work that he had to do. - </p> - <h3> - II - </h3> - <p> - <span class="pagenum">40</span><a name="link040" id="link040"></a>The form - in which Conrad has chosen to develop his narratives is the question which - must always come first in any consideration of him as a novelist; the - question of his form is the ground upon which he has been most frequently - attacked. - </p> - <p> - His difficulties in this matter have all arisen, as I have already - suggested, from his absorbing interest in life. Let us imagine, for an - instant, an imaginary case. He has teen in some foreign port a quarrel - between two seamen. One has “knifed” the other, and the quarrel has been - watched, with complete indifference, by a young girl and a bibulous old - wastrel who is obviously a relation both of hers and of the stricken - seaman. The author sees here a case for his art and, wishing to give us - the matter with the greatest possible truth and accuracy, he begins, <i>oratio - recta</i>, by the narration of a little barber whose shop is just over the - spot where the quarrel took place and whose lodgers the old man and the - girl are. He <span class="pagenum">41</span><a name="link041" id="link041"></a>describes - the little barber and is, at once, amazed by the interesting facts that he - discovers about the man. Seen standing in his doorway he is the most - ordinary little figure, but once investigate his case and you find a - strange contrast between his melancholy romanticism and the flashing - fanaticism of his love for the young girl who lodges with him. That leads - one back, through many years, to the moment of his first meeting with the - bibulous old man, and for a witness of that wo must hunt out a villainous - old woman who keeps a drinking saloon in another part of the town. This - old woman, now so drink-sodden and degraded, had once a history of her - own. Once she was... - </p> - <p> - And so the matter continues. It is not so much a deliberate evocation of - the most difficult of methods, this maimer of narration, as a poignant - witness to Conrad’s own breathless surprise at his discoveries. Mr Henry - James, speaking of this enforced collection of oratorical witnesses, says: - “It places Mr Conrad absolutely alone as a <span class="pagenum">42</span><a - name="link042" id="link042"></a>votary of the way to do a thing that shall - make it undergo most doing,” and his amazement at Conrad’s patient pursuit - of unneeded difficulties may seem to us the stranger if we consider that - in <i>What Maisie Knew</i> and <i>The Awkward Age</i> he has practised - almost precisely the same form himself. Indeed beside the intricate but - masterly form of <i>The Awkward Age</i> the duplicate narration of <i>Chance</i> - seems child’s play. Mr Henry James makes the mistake of speaking as though - Conrad had quite deliberately chosen the form of narration that was most - difficult to him, simply for the fun of overcoming the difficulties, the - truth being that he has chosen the easiest, the form of narration brought - straight from the sea and the ships that he adored, the form of narration - used by the Ancient Mariner and all the seamen before and alter him. - Conrad must have his direct narrator, because that is the way in which - stories in the past had generally come to him. He wishes to deny the - effect of that direct and simple honesty that had always seemed so - attractive to <span class="pagenum">43</span><a name="link043" id="link043"></a>him. - He must have it by word of mouth, because it is by word of mouth that he - himself has always demanded it, and if one witness is not enough for the - truth of it then must he have two or three. - </p> - <p> - Consider for a moment the form of three of his most important novels: <i>Lord - Jim, Nostromo</i> and <i>Chance</i>. It is possible that <i>Lord Jim</i> - was conceived originally as a sketch of character, derived by the author - from one scene that was, in all probability, an actual reminiscence. - Certainly, when the book is finished, one scene beyond all others remains - with the reader; the scene of the inquiry into the loss of the <i>Patna</i>, - or rather the vision of Jim and his appalling companions waiting outside - for the inquiry to begin. Simply in the contemplation of these four men - Conrad has his desired contrast; the skipper of the <i>Patna</i>: “He made - me think of a trained baby elephant walking on hind-legs. He was - extravagantly gorgeous too—got up in a. soiled sleeping-suit, bright - green and deep orange vertical stripes, with a pair of ragged straw - slippers <span class="pagenum">44</span><a name="link044" id="link044"></a>on - his bare feet, and somebody’s cast-off pith hat, very dirty and two sizes - too small for him, tied up with a manilla rope-yarn on the top of his big - head.” There are also two other “no-account chaps with him”—a sallow - faced mean little chap with his arm in a sling, and a long individual in a - blue flannel coat, as dry as a chip and no stouter than a broomstick, with - drooping grey moustaches, who looked about him with an air of jaunty - imbecility, and, with these three, Jim, “clean-limbed, clean-faced, firm - on his feet, as promising a boy as the sun ever shone on.” Here are these - four, in the same box, condemned for ever by all right-thinking men. That - boy in the same box as those obscene scoundrels! At once the artist has - fastened on to his subject, it bristles with active, vital possibilities - and discoveries. We, the observers, share the artist’s thrill. We watch - our author dart upon a subject with the excitement of adventurers - discovering a gold mine. How much will it yield? How deep will it go? We - are thrilled with the suspense. <span class="pagenum">45</span><a - name="link045" id="link045"></a>Conrad, having discovered his subject, - must, for the satisfaction of that honour which is his most deeply - cherished virtue, prove to us his authenticity. “I was not there myself,” - he tells us, “but I can show you someone who was.” He introduces us to a - first-hand witness, Marlowe or another. “Now tell your story.” He has at - once the atmosphere in which he is happiest, and so, having his audience - clustered about him, unlimited time at everyone’s disposal, whiskies and - cigars without stint, he lets himself go. He is bothered now by no - question but the thorough investigation of his discovery. What had Jim - done that he should be in such a case? We must have the story of the loss - of the <i>Patna</i>, that marvellous journey across the waters, all the - world of the pilgrims, the obscene captain and Jim’s fine, chivalrous - soul. Marlowe is inexhaustible. He has so much to say and so many fine - words in which to say it. At present, so absorbed are we, so successful is - he, that we are completely held. The illusion is perfect. We come to the - inquiry. <span class="pagenum">46</span><a name="link046" id="link046"></a>One - of the judges is Captain Brierley. “What! not know Captain Brierley! Ah! - but I must tell you! Most extraordinary thing!” - </p> - <p> - The world grows around us; a world that can contain the captain of the <i>Patna</i>, - Brierley and Jim at the same time! The subject before us seems now so rich - that we are expecting to see it burst, at any moment, in the author’s - hands, but so long as that first visualised scene is the centre of the - episode, so long as the experience hovers round that inquiry and the - Esplanade outside it, we are held, breathless and believing. We believe - even in the eloquent Marlowe. Then the moment passes. Every possible probe - into its heart has been made. We are satisfied. - </p> - <p> - There follows then the sequel, and here at once the weakness of the method - is apparent. The author having created his narrator must continue with - him. Marlowe is there, untired, eager, waiting to begin again. But the - trouble is that we are do longer assured now of the truth and <span - class="pagenum">47</span><a name="link047" id="link047"></a>reality of his - story. He saw—we cannot for an instant doubt it—that group on - the Esplanade; all that he could tell us about that we, breathlessly, - awaited. But now we are uncertain whether he is not inventing a romantic - sequel. He must go on—that is the truly terrible thing about Marlowe—and - at the moment when we question his authenticity we are suspicious of his - very existence, ready to be irritated by his flow of words demanding - something more authentic than that voice that is now only dimly heard. The - author himself perhaps feels this; he duplicates, he even trebles his - narrators and with each fresh agent raises a fresh crop of facts, - contrasts, halts and histories. That then is the peril of the method. - Whilst we believe we are completely held, but let the authenticity waver - for a moment and the danger of disaster is more excessive than with any - other possible form of narration. Create your authority and we have at - once someone at whom we may throw stones if we are not beguiled, Marlowe - has certainly been compelled to <span class="pagenum">48</span><a - name="link048" id="link048"></a>face, at moments in his career, an angry, - irritated audience. - </p> - <p> - <i>Nostromo</i> is, for the reason that we never lose our confidence in - the narrator, a triumphant vindication of these methods. That is not to - deny that <i>Nostromo</i> is extremely contused in places, but it is a - confusion that arises rather from Conrad’s confidence in the reader’s - fore-knowledge of the facts than in a complication of narrations. The - narrations are sometimes complicated—old Captain Mitchell does not - always achieve authenticity—but on the whole, the reader may be said - to be puzzled, simply because he is told so much about some things and so - little about others. - </p> - <p> - But this assurance of the author’s that we must have already learnt the - main facts of the case comes from his own convinced sense of the reality - of it. This time he has no Marlowe. He was there himself. “Of course,” he - says to us, “you know all about that revolution in Sulaco, that revolution - that the Goulds were mixed up with. Well, I happened to be there myself. I - know all <span class="pagenum">49</span><a name="link049" id="link049"></a>the - people concerned, and the central figure was not Gould, nor Mitchell, nor - Monyngham—no, it was a man about whom no one outside the republic - was told a syllable. I knew the man well.... He.. and there we all are.” - </p> - <p> - The method is, in this case, as I have already said, completely - successful. There may be confusions, there may be scenes concerning which - we may be expected to be told much and are, in truth, told nothing at all, - but these confusions and omissions do, in the end, only add to our - conviction of the veracity of it. No one, after a faithful perusal of <i>Nostromo</i>, - can possibly doubt of the existence of Sulaco, of the silver mine, of - Nostromo and Decoud, of Mrs Gould, Antonio, the Viola girls, of old Viola, - Hirsch, Monyngham, Gould, Sotillo, of the death of Viola’s wife, of the - expedition at night in the painter, of Decoud alone on the Isabels, of - Hirsch’s torture, of Captain Mitchell’s watch—here are characters - the most romantic in the world, scenes that would surely, in any other - hands, be fantastic <span class="pagenum">50</span><a name="link050" id="link050"></a>melodrama, and both characters and scenes are absolutely - supported on the foundation of realistic truth. Not for a moment from the - first page to the last do we consciously doubt the author’s word.... Here - the form of narration is vindicated because it is entirely convincing. - </p> - <p> - Not so with the third example, <i>Chance</i>. Here, as with <i>Lord Jim</i>, - we may find one, visualised moment that stands for the whole book and as - in the earlier work we look back and see the degraded officers of the <i>Patna</i> - waiting with Jim on the Esplanade, so our glance back over <i>Chance</i> - reveals to us that moment when the Fynes, from the security of their - comfortable home, watch Flora de Barrel flying down the steps of her - horrible Brighton house as though the Furies pursued her. That desperate - flight is the key of the book. The moment of the chivalrous Captain - Anthony’s rescue of Flora from a world too villainous for her and too - double-faced for him gives the book’s theme, and never in all the stories - that preceded Flora’s has Conrad been so <span class="pagenum">51</span><a - name="link051" id="link051"></a>eager to afford us first-hand witnesses. - We have, in the first place, the unquenchable Marlowe sitting, with fine - phrases at his lips, in a riverside inn. To him enter Powell, who once - served with Captain Anthony; to these two add the little Fynes; there - surely you have enough to secure your alliance. But it is precisely the - number of witnesses that frightens us. Marlowe, unaided, would have been - enough for us, more than enough if we are to consider the author himself - as a possible narrator. But not only does the number frighten us, it - positively hides from us the figures of Captain Anthony and Flora de - Barrel. Both the Knight and the Maiden—as the author names them—are - retiring souls, and our hearts move in sympathy fin them as we contemplate - their timid hesitancy before the voluble inquisitions of Marlowe, young - Powell and the Fynes. Moreover, the intention of this method that it - should secure realistic conviction for the most romantic episodes does not - here achieve its purpose, as we have seen that it did in the first half of - <span class="pagenum">52</span><a name="link052" id="link052"></a><i>Lord - Jim</i> and the whole of <i>Nostromo</i>. We believe most emphatically in - that first narration of young Powell’s about his first chance. We believe - in the first narration of Marlowe, although quite casually he talks like - this: “I do not even think that there was in what he did a conscious and - lofty confidence in himself, a particularly pronounced sense of power - which leads men so often into impossible or equivocal situations.” We - believe in the horrible governess (a fiercely drawn figure). We believe in - Marlowe’s interview with Flora on the pavement outside Anthony’s room. - </p> - <p> - We believe in the whole of the first half of the book, but even here we - are conscious that we would prefer to be closer to the whole thing, that - it would be pleasant to hear Flora and Anthony speak for themselves, that - we resent, a little, Marlowe’s intimacy which prevents, with patronising - complaisance, the intimacy that we, the readers, might have seemed. - Nevertheless we are so far held, we are captured. - </p> - <p> - But when the second half of the book <span class="pagenum">53</span><a - name="link053" id="link053"></a>arrives we can be confident no longer. - Here, as in <i>Lord Jim</i>, it is possible to feel that Conrad, having - surprised, seized upon, mastered his original moment, did not know how to - continue it. The true thing in <i>Lord Jim</i> is the affair of the <i>Patna</i>; - the true thing in <i>Chance</i> is Captain Anthony’s rescue of Flora after - her disaster. But whereas in <i>Lord Jim</i> the sequel to Jim’s cowardice - has its own fine qualities of beauty and imagination, the sequel to - Captain Anthony’s rescue of Flora seems to one listener at any rate a - pitiably unconvincing climax of huddled melodrama. That chapter in <i>Chance</i> - entitled <i>A Moonless Night</i> is, in the first half of it, surely the - worst thing that Conrad ever wrote, save only that one early short story, - <i>The Return</i>. The conclusion of <i>Chance</i> and certain tales in - his volume, <i>Within the Tides</i>, make one wonder whether that alliance - between romance and realism that he has hitherto so wonderfully maintained - is not breaking down before the baleful strength of the former of these - two qualities. - </p> - <p> - <span class="pagenum">54</span><a name="link054" id="link054"></a>It - remains only to be said that when credence so entirely fails, as it must - before the end of <i>Chance</i>, the form of narration in <i>Oratio Recta</i> - is nothing less than maddening. Suddenly we do not believe in Marlowe, in - Powell, in the Fynes: we do not believe even in Anthony and Flora. We are - the angrier because earlier in the evening we were so completely taken in. - It is as though we had given our money to a deserving cause and discovered - a charlatan. - </p> - <p> - I have described at length the form in which the themes of these books are - developed, because it is the form that, here extensively, here quite - unobtrusively, clothes all the novels and tales. We are caught and held by - the skinny finger of the Ancient Mariner. When he has a true tale to tell - us his veritable presence is an added zest to our pleasure. But, if his - presence be not true... - </p> - <h3> - III - </h3> - <p> - If we turn to the themes that engage Joseph Conrad’s attention we shall - see that <span class="pagenum">55</span><a name="link055" id="link055"></a>in - almost every case his subjects are concerned with unequal combats—unequal - to his own far-seeing vision, but never to the human souls engaged in - them, and it is this consciousness of the blindness that renders men’s - honesty and heroism of so little account that gives occasion for his - irony. - </p> - <p> - He chooses, in almost every case, the most solid and unimaginative of - human beings for his heroes, and it seems that it is these men alone whom - he can admire. “If a human soul has vision he simply gives the thing up,” - we can hear him say. “He can see at once that the odds are too strong for - him. But these simple souls, with their consciousness of the job before - them and nothing else, with their placid sense of honour and of duty, upon - them you may loosen all heaven’s bolts and lightnings and they will not - quail.” They command his pity, his reverence, his tenderness, almost his - love. But at the end, with an ironic shrug of his shoulders, he says: “You - see. I told you so. He may even think he has won. We know better, you and - I.” <span class="pagenum">56</span><a name="link056" id="link056"></a>The - theme of <i>Almayer’s Folly</i> is a struggle of a weak man against - nature, of <i>The Nigger of the Narcissus</i> the struggle of many simple - men against the presence of death, of <i>Lord Jim</i>, again, the struggle - of a simple man against nature (here the man wins, but only, we feel, at - the cost of truth). <i>Nostromo</i>, the conquest of a child of nature by - the silver mine which stands over him, conscious of its ultimate victory, - from the very first. <i>Chance</i>, the struggle of an absolutely simple - and upright soul against the dishonesties of a world that he does not - understand. <i>Typhoon</i>, the very epitome of Conrad’s themes, is the - struggle of M’Whirr against the storm (here again it is M’Whirr who - apparently wins, but we can hear, in the very last line of the book, the - storm’s confident chuckle of ultimate victory). In <i>Heart of Darkness</i> - the victory is to the forest. In <i>The End of the Tether</i> Captain - Whalley, one of Conrad’s finest figures, is beaten by the very loftiness - of his character. The three tales in <i>‘Twixt Land, and Sea</i> are all - themes of this kind—the struggle of simple, <span class="pagenum">57</span><a - name="link057" id="link057"></a>unimaginative men against forces too - strong for them. In <i>The Secret Agent</i> Winnie Verloc, another simple - character, finds life too much for her and commits suicide. In <i>Under - Western Eyes</i> Razumov, the dreamer, is destroyed by a world that laughs - at the pains and struggles of insignificant individuals. - </p> - <p> - Of Conrad’s philosophy I must speak in another place: here it is enough to - say that it is impossible to imagine him choosing as the character of a - story jolly, independent souls who take life for what it gives them and - leave defeat or victory to the stars. - </p> - <p> - Whatever Conrad’s books are or are not, it may safely be said that they - are never jolly, and his most devoted disciple would, in all probability, - resent any suggestion of a lighter hand or a gentler affection, his art, - nevertheless, is limited by this persistent brooding over the inequality - of life’s battle. His humour, often of a very fine kind, is always - sinister, because his choice of theme forbids light-heartedness. - </p> - <p> - Tom Jones and Tristram Shandy would <span class="pagenum">58</span><a - name="link058" id="link058"></a>have found Marlowe, Jim and Captain - Anthony quite impossibly solemn company—but I do not deny that they - might not have been something the better for a little of it. - </p> - <p> - I have already said that his characters are, for the most part, simple and - unimaginative men, but that does not mean that they are so simple that - there is nothing in them. The first thing of which one is sure in meeting - a number of Conrad’s characters is that they have existences and histories - entirely independent of their introducer’s kind offices. Conrad has met - them, has talked to them, has come to know them, but we are sure not only - that there is very much more that he could tell us about them if he had - time and space, but that even when he had told us all that he knew he - would only have touched on the fringe of their real histories. - </p> - <p> - One of the distinctions between the modern English novel and the - mid-Victorian English novel is that modern characters have but little of - the robust vitality of their <span class="pagenum">59</span><a - name="link059" id="link059"></a>predecessors; the figures in the novel of - to-day fade so easily from the page that endeavours to keep them. - </p> - <p> - In the novels of Mr Henry James we feel at times that the characters fade - before the motives attributed to them, in those of Mr Wells before an - idea, a curse, or a remedy, in those of Mr Bennett before a creeping - wilderness of important insignificances, in those of Mr Galsworthy before - the oppression of social inequalities, in those of Mrs Wharton before the - shadow of Mr Henry James, even in those of Mr Hardy before the omnipotence - of an inevitable God whom, in spite of his inevitability, Mr Hardy himself - is arranging in the background; it may be claimed for the characters of Mr - Conrad that they yield their solidity to no force, no power, not even to - their author’s own determination that they are doomed, in the end, to - defeat. - </p> - <p> - This is not for a moment to say that Joseph Conrad is a finer novelist - than these others, but this quality he has beyond his contemporaries—namely, - the assurance that <span class="pagenum">60</span><a name="link060" id="link060"></a>his characters have their lives and adventures both - before and after the especial cases that he is describing to us. - </p> - <p> - The Russian Tchekov has, in his plays, this gift supremely, so that at the - close of <i>The Three Sisters</i> or <i>The Cherry Orchard</i> we are left - speculating deeply upon “what happened afterwards” to Gayef or Barbara, to - Masha or Epikhadov; with Conrad’s sea captains as with Tchekov’s Russians - we see at once that they are entirely independent of the incidents that we - are told about them. This independence springs partly from the author’s - eager, almost naïve curiosity. It is impossible for him to introduce us to - any officer on his ship without whispering to us in an aside details about - his life, his wife and family on shore. By so doing he forges an extra - link in his chain of circumstantial evidence, but we do not feel that here - he is deliberately serving his art—it is only that quality already - mentioned, his own astonished delight at the things that he is - discovering. We learn, for instance, about Captain M’Whirr that he wrote - long letters home, <span class="pagenum">61</span><a name="link061" id="link061"></a>beginning always with the words, “My darling Wife,” and - relating in minute detail each successive trip of the <i>Nan-Shan</i>. Mrs - M’Whirr, we learn, was “a pretentious person with a scraggy neck and a - disdainful manner, admittedly lady-like and in the neighbourhood - considered as ‘quite superior.’ The only secret of her life was her abject - terror of the time when her husband would come home to stay for good.” - Also in <i>Typhoon</i> there is the second mate “who never wrote any - letters, did not seem to hope for news from anywhere; and though he had - been heard once to mention West Hartlepool, it was with extreme - bitterness, and only in connection with the extortionate charges of a - boarding-house.” How conscious we are of Jim’s English country parsonage, - of Captain Anthony’s loneliness, of Marlowe’s isolation. By this simple - thread of connection between the land and the ship the whole character - stands, human and convincing, before us. Of the sailors on board the <i>Narcissus</i> - there is not one about whom, after his landing, <span class="pagenum">62</span><a - name="link062" id="link062"></a>we are not curious. There is the skipper, - whose wife comes on board, “A real lady, in a black dress and with a - parasol.”... “Very soon the captain, dressed very smartly and in a white - shirt, went with her over the side. We didn’t recognise him at all....” - And Mr Baker, the chief mate! Is not this little farewell enough to make - us his friends for life? - </p> - <p> - “No one waited for him ashore. Mother died; father and two brothers, - Yarmouth fishermen, drowned together on the Dogger Bank; sister married - and unfriendly. Quite a lady, married to the leading tailor of a little - town, and its leading politician, who did not think his sailor brother - in-law quite respectable enough for him. Quite a lady, quite a lady, he - thought, sitting down for a moment’s rest on the quarter-hatch. Time - enough to go ashore and get a bite, and sup, and a bed somewhere. He - didn’t like to part with a ship. No one to think about then. The darkness - of a misty evening fell, cold and damp, upon the deserted deck; and Mr - Baker sat smoking, thinking of all the successive ships to whom through - many <span class="pagenum">63</span><a name="link063" id="link063"></a>long - years he had given the best of a seaman’s care. And never a command in - sight. Not once!” - </p> - <p> - There are others—the abominable Donkin for instance. “Donkin - entered. They discussed the account... Captain Allistoun said. ‘I give you - a bad discharge,’ he said quietly. Donkin raised his voice: ‘I don’t want - your bloomin’ discharge—keep it. I’m goin’ ter ‘ave a job hashore.’ - He turned to us. ‘No more bloomin’ sea for me,’ he said, aloud. All looked - at him. He had better clothes, had an easy air, appeared more at home than - any of us; he stared with assurance, enjoying the effect of his - declaration.” - </p> - <p> - In how many novels would Donkin’s life have been limited by the part that - he was required to play in the adventures of the <i>Narcissus?</i> As it - is our interest in his progress has been satisfied by a prologue only. Or - there is Charley, the boy of the crew—“As I came up I saw a - red-faced, blowzy woman, in a grey shawl, and with dusty, <span - class="pagenum">64</span><a name="link064" id="link064"></a>fluffy hair, - fall on Charley’s neck. It was his mother. She slobbered over him:—‘Oh, - my boy! my boy!’—‘Leggo me,’ said Charley, ‘leggo, mother!’ I was - passing him at the time, and over the untidy head of the blubbering woman - he gave me a humorous smile and a glance ironic, courageous, and profound, - that seemed to put all my knowledge of life to shame. I nodded and passed - on, but heard him say again, good-naturedly:—‘If you leggo of me - this minyt—ye shall ‘ave a bob for a drink out of my pay.’” - </p> - <p> - But one passes from these men of the sea—from M’Whirr and Baker, - from Lingard and Captain Whalley, from Captain Anthony and Jim, with a - suspicion that the author will not convince us quite so readily with his - men of the land—and that suspicion is never entirely dismissed. - About such men as M’Whirr and Baker he can tell us nothing that we will - not believe. He has such sympathy and understanding for them that they - will, we are assured, deliver up to him their dearest secrets—those - little details, <span class="pagenum">65</span><a name="link065" id="link065"></a>M’Whirr’s wife, Mr Baker’s proud sister, Charley’s - mother, are their dearest secrets. But with the citizens of the other - world—with Stein, Decoud, Gould, Verloc, Razumov, the sinister - Nikita, the little Fynes, even the great Nostromo himself—we cannot - be so confident, simply because their discoverer cannot yield them that - same perfect sympathy. - </p> - <p> - His theory about these men is that they have, all of them, an <i>idée fixe</i>, - that you must search for this patiently, honestly, unsparingly—having - found it, the soul of the man is revealed to you. But is it? Is it not - possible that Decoud or Verloc, feeling the probing finger, offer up - instantly any <i>idée fixe</i> ready to hand because they wish to be left - alone? Decoud himself, for instance—Decoud, the imaginative - journalist in <i>Nostromo</i>, speculating with his ironic mind upon - romantic features, at his heart, apparently cynical and reserved, the - burning passion for the beautiful Antonia. He has yielded enough to - suggest the truth, but the truth itself eludes us. With Verloc again <span - class="pagenum">66</span><a name="link066" id="link066"></a>we have a - quite masterly presentation of the man as Conrad sees him. That first - description of him is wonderful, both in its reality and its significance. - “His eyes were naturally heavy, he had an air of having wallowed, fully - dressed, all day on an unmade bed.” - </p> - <p> - With many novelists that would be quite enough, that we should see the - character as the author sees him, but because, in these histories, we have - the convictions of the extension of the protagonists’ lives beyond the - stated episodes, it is not enough. Because they have lives independent of - the covers of the book we feel that there can be no end to the things that - we should be told about them, and they must be true things. - </p> - <p> - Verloc, for instance, is attached from the first to his <i>idée fixe</i>—namely, - that he should be able to retain, at all costs, his phlegmatic state of - self-indulgence and should not be jockeyed out of it. At the first sign of - threatened change he is terrified to his very soul. Conrad never, for an - instant, allows him to leave this ground upon which he has <span - class="pagenum">67</span><a name="link067" id="link067"></a>placed him. We - see the man tied to his rock of an <i>idée fixe</i>, but he has, - nevertheless, we are assured, another life, other motives, other humours, - other terrors. It is perhaps a direct tribute to the authors reserve power - that we feel, at the book’s close, that we should have been told so much - more. - </p> - <p> - Even with the great Nostromo himself we are not satisfied as we are with - Captain Whalley or Mr Kates. Nostromo is surely, as a picture, the moat - romantically satisfying figure in the English novel since Scott, with the - single exception of Thackeray’s Beatrix—and here I am not forgetting - Captain Silver, David Balfour, Catriona, nor, in our own immediate time, - young Beauchamp or the hero of that amazing and so unjustly obscure - fiction, <i>The Shadow of a Titan</i>. As a picture, Nostromo shines with - a flaming colour, shines, as the whole novel shines, with a glow that is - flung by the contrasted balance of its romance and realism. From that - first vision of him as he rides slowly through the crowds, in his - magnificent dress: “... his hat, a gay sombrero with <span class="pagenum">68</span><a - name="link068" id="link068"></a>a silver cord and tassels. The bright - colours of a Mexican scrape twisted on the mantle, the enormous silver - buttons on the embroidered leather jacket, the row of tiny silver buttons - down the seam of the trousers, the snowy linen, a silk sash with - embroidered ends, the silver plates on headstall and saddle... to that - last moment when—... in the dimly lit room Nostromo rolled his head - slowly on the pillow and opened his eyes, directing at the weird figure - perched by his bedside a glance of enigmatic and mocking scorn. Then his - head rolled back, his eyelids fell, and the Capatos of the Cargadores died - without a word or moan after an hour of immobility, broken by short - shudders testifying to the most atrocious sufferings”—we are - conscious of his superb figure; and after his death we do, indeed, believe - what the last lines of the book assure us—“In that true cry of love - and grief that seemed to ring aloud from Punta Mala to Azuera and away to - the bright line of the horizon, overhung by a big white cloud shining like - a mass of solid silver, the <span class="pagenum">69</span><a - name="link069" id="link069"></a>genius of the magnificent Capatuz de - Cargadores dominated the dark gulf containing his conquests of treasure - and love.” His genius dominates, yes—but it is the genius of a - magnificent picture standing as a frontispiece to the book of his soul. - And that soul is not given us—Nostromo, proud to the last, refuses - to surrender it to us. Why is it that the slender sketch of old Singleton - in <i>The Nigger of the Narcissus</i> gives us the very heart of the man, - so that volumes might tell us more of him indeed, but could not surrender - him to us more truly, and all the fine summoning of Nostromo only leaves - him beyond our grasp? We believe in Nostromo, but we are told about him—we - have not met him. - </p> - <p> - Nevertheless, at another turn of the road, this criticism must seem the - basest ingratitude. When we look back and survey that crowd, so various, - so distinct whether it be they who are busied, before our eyes, with the - daily life of Sulaoo, or the Verloc family (the most poignant scene in the - whole of Conrad’s art—the drive in the <span class="pagenum">70</span><a - name="link070" id="link070"></a>cab of old Mrs Verloc, Winnie and Stevie—compels, - additionally, our gratitude) or that strange gathering, the Haldins, - Nikita, Laspara, Madame de S———, Peter Ivanovitch, - Raznmov, at Geneva, or the highly coloured figures in <i>Romance</i> (a - book fine in some places, astonishingly second-rate in others), Falk or - Amy Foster, Jacobus and his daughter, Jasper and his lover, all those and - so many, many more, what can we do but embrace the world that is offered - to us, accept it as an axiom of life that, of all these figures, some will - be near to us, some more distant? It is, finally, a world that Conrad - offers us, not a series of novels in whose pages we find the same two or - three figures returning to us—old friends with new faces and new - names—but a planet that we know, even as we know the Meredith - planet, the Hardy planet, the James planet. - </p> - <p> - Looking back, we may trace its towns and rivers, its continents and seas, - its mean streets and deep valleys, its country houses, its sordid hovels, - its vast, untamed forests, its deserts and wilderness s. Although each - <span class="pagenum">71</span><a name="link071" id="link071"></a>work, - from, the vast <i>Nostromo</i> to the minutely perfect <i>Secret Share</i>, - has its new theme, its form, its separate heart, the swarming life that he - has created knows no boundary. And in this, surely, creation has - accomplished its noblest work. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - III—THE POET - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE <span - class="pagenum">72</span><a name="link072" id="link072"></a>poet in Conrad - is lyrical as well as philosophic. The lyrical side is absent in certain - of his works, as, for example, <i>The Secret Agent</i>, and <i>Under - Western Eyes</i>, or such short stories as <i>The Informer</i>, or <i>Il - Conde</i>, but the philosophic note sounded poetically, as an instrument - of music as well as a philosophy, is never absent. - </p> - <p> - Three elements in the work of Conrad the poet as distinct from Conrad the - novelist deserve consideration—style, atmosphere and philosophy. In - the matter of style the first point that must strike any constant reader - of the novels is the change that is to be marked between the earlier works - and the later. Here is a descriptive passage from <span class="pagenum">73</span><a - name="link073" id="link073"></a>Conrad’s second novel, <i>An Outcast of - the Islands</i>: - </p> - <p> - “He followed her step by step till at last they both stopped, facing each - other under the big tree of the enclosure. The solitary exile of the - forests great, motionless and solemn in his abandonment, left alone by the - life of ages that had been pushed away from him by those pigmies that - crept at his foot, towered high and straight above their leader. He seemed - to look on, dispassionate and imposing in his lonely greatness, spreading - his branches wide in a gesture of lofty protection, as if to hide them in - the sombre shelter of innumerable leaves; as if moved by the disdainful - compassion of the strong, by the scornful pity of an aged giant, to screen - this struggle of two human hearts from the cold scrutiny of glittering - stars.” - </p> - <p> - And from his latest novel, <i>Chance</i>: - </p> - <p> - “The very sea, with short flashes of foam bursting out here and there in - the gloomy distances, the unchangeable, safe sea sheltering a man from all - passions, except its own anger, seemed queer to the quick <span - class="pagenum">74</span><a name="link074" id="link074"></a>glance he - threw to windward when the already effaced horizon traced no reassuring - limit to the eye. In the expiring diffused twilight, and before the - clouded night dropped its mysterious veil, it was the immensity of space - made visible—almost palpable. Young Powell felt it. He felt it in - the sudden sense of his isolation; the trustworthy, powerful ship of his - first acquaintance reduced to a speck, to something almost - undistinguishable. The mere support for the soles of his two feet before - that unexpected old man becoming so suddenly articulate in a darkening - universe.” - </p> - <p> - It must be remembered that the second of these quotations is the voice of - Marlowe and that therefore it should, in necessity, be the simpler of the - two. Nevertheless, the distinction can very clearly be observed. The first - piece of prose is quite definitely lyrical: it has, it cannot be denied, - something of the “purple patch.” We feel that the prose is too dependent - upon sonorous adjectives, that it has the deliberation of work slightly - affected by the author’s <span class="pagenum">75</span><a name="link075" id="link075"></a>determination that it shall be fine. The rhythm in it, - however, is as deliberate as the rhythm of any poem in English, the - picture evoked as distinct and clear-cut as though it were, in actual - tact, a poem detached from all context and, finally, there is the - inevitable philosophical implication to give the argument to the picture. - Such passages of descriptive prose may be found again and again in the - earlier novels and tales of Conrad, in <i>Almayer’s Folly, Tales of - Unrest, The Nigger of the Narcissus, Typhoon, Youth, Heart of Darkness, - Lord Jim</i>,—prose piled high with sonorous and slow-moving - adjectives, three adjectives to a noun, prose that sounds hike an Eastern - invocation to a deity in whom, nevertheless, the suppliant does not - believe. At its worst, the strain that its sonority places upon movements - and objects of no importance is disastrous. For instance, in the tale - called <i>The Return</i>, there is the following passage:— - </p> - <p> - “He saw her shoulder touch the lintel of the door. She swayed as if dazed. - There was <span class="pagenum">76</span><a name="link076" id="link076"></a>less - than a second of suspense while they both felt as if poised on the very - edge of moral annihilation, ready to fall into some devouring nowhere. - Then almost simultaneously he shouted, ‘Come back,’ and she let go the - handle of the door. She turned round in peaceful desperation like one who - has deliberately thrown away the last chance of life; and for a moment the - room she faced appeared terrible, and dark, and safe—like a grave.” - </p> - <p> - The situation here simply will not bear the weight of the words—“moral - annihilation,” “devouring nowhere,” “peaceful desperation,” “last chance - of life,” “terrible,” “like a grave.” That he shouted gives a final touch - of ludicrous exaggeration to the whole passage. - </p> - <p> - Often, in the earlier books, Conrad’s style has the awkward over-emphasis - of a writer who is still acquiring the language that he is using, like a - foreigner who shouts to us because he thinks that thus we shall understand - him more easily. But there is also, in this earlier style, the marked - effect of <span class="pagenum">77</span><a name="link077" id="link077"></a>two - influences. One influence is that of the French language and especially of - the author of <i>Madame Bovary</i>. When we recollect that Conrad - hesitated at the beginning of his career as to whether he would write in - French or English, we can understand this French inflection. Flaubert’s - effect on his style is quite unmistakable. This is a sentence of - Flaubert’s: “Toutes ses velléités de dénigrement l’envanouissaiont sous la - poésie du rôle qui l’envahissait; et entrainée vers l’homme par l’illusion - du personnage elle tâcha de se figurer sa vie, cette vie retentissante, - extraordinaire, splendide...” and this a sentence of Conrad’s: “Her hands - slipped slowly off Lingard’s shoulders and her arms tell by her side, - listless, discouraged, as if to her—to her, the savage, violent and - ignorant creature—had been revealed clearly in that moment the - tremendous fact of our isolation, of the loneliness, impenetrable and - transparent, elusive and everlasting.” - </p> - <p> - Conrad’s sentence reads like a direct translation from the French, It is - probable, <span class="pagenum">78</span><a name="link078" id="link078"></a>however, - that his debt to Flaubert and the French language can be very easily - exaggerated, and it does not seem, in any case, to have driven very deeply - into the heart of his form. The influence is mainly to be detected in the - arrangement of words and sentences as though he had in the first years of - his work, used it as a crutch before he could walk alone. - </p> - <p> - The second of the early influences upon his style is of far greater - importance—the influence of the vast, unfettered elements of nature - that he had, for so many years, so directly served. If it were not for his - remarkable creative gift that had been, from the very first, at its full - strength, his early books would stand as purely lyrical evocations of the - sea and the forest. It is the poetry of the Old Testament of which we - think in many pages of <i>Almayer’s Folly</i> and <i>An Outcast of the - Island</i>, a poetry that has the rhythm and metre of a spontaneous - emotion. He was never again to catch quite the spirit of that first - rapture. - </p> - <p> - He was under the influence of these powers <span class="pagenum">79</span><a - name="link079" id="link079"></a>also in that, at that time, they were too - strong for him. We feel with him that he is impotent to express his wonder - and praise because he is still so immediately under their sway. His style, - in these earlier hooks, has the repetitions and extended phrases of a man - who is marking time before the inspired moment comes to him—often - the inspiration does not come because he cannot detach himselt with - sufficient pause and balance. But in his middle period, in the period of - <i>Youth, Typhoon, Heart of Darkness</i> and <i>Nostromo</i>, this lyrical - impulse can be seen at its perfection, beating, steadily, spontaneously, - with the finest freedom and yet disciplined, as it were, by its own will - and desire. Compare, for a moment, this passage from <i>Typhoon</i> with - that earlier one from <i>The Outcast of the Islands</i> that I quoted - above: - </p> - <p> - “He watched her, battered and solitary, labouring heavily in a wild scene - of mountainous black waters lit by the gleam of distant worlds. She moved - slowly, breathing into the still core of the hurricane <span - class="pagenum">80</span><a name="link080" id="link080"></a>the excess of - her strength in a white cloud of steam, and the deep-toned vibration of - the escape was like the defiant trumpeting of a living creature of the sea - impatient for the renewal of the contest. It ceased suddenly. The still - air moaned. Above Jakes’ head a few stars shone into the pit of black - vapours. The inky edge of the cloud-disc frowned upon the ship under the - patch of glittering sky. The stars too seemed to look at her intently, as - if for the last time, and the cluster of their splendour sat like a diadem - on a lowering brow.” - </p> - <p> - That is poet’s work, and poet’s work at its finest. Instead of impressing - us, as the earlier piece of prose, with the fact that the author has made - the very most of a rather thin moment—feels, indeed, himself that it - is thin—we are here under the influence of something that can have - no limits to the splendours that it contains. The work is thick, as though - it had been wrought by the finest workman out of the heart of the finest - material—and yet it remains, through all its discipline, - spontaneous. - </p> - <p> - These three tales, <i>Typhoon, Youth</i> and <span class="pagenum">81</span><a - name="link081" id="link081"></a><i>Heart of Darkness</i>, stand by - themselves as the final expression of Conrad’s lyrical gift. We may - remember such characters as M’Whirr, Kurtz, Marlowe, but they are figures - as the old seneschal in <i>The Eve of St Agnes</i> or the Ancient Mariner - himself are figures. They are as surely complete poems, wrought and - finished in the true spirit of poetry, as Whitman’s <i>When Lilac first on - the Door yard bloomed</i> or Keats’ <i>Nightingale.</i> Their author was - never again to succeed so completely in combining the free spirit of his - enthusiasm with the disciplined restraint of the true artist. - </p> - <p> - The third period of his style shows him cool and clear-headed as to the - things that he intends to do. He is now the slightly ironic, artist whose - business is to get things on to paper in the clearest possible way. He is - conscious that in the past he has been at the mercy of sonorous and - high-sounding adjectives. He will use them still, but only to show them - that they are at his mercy. Marlowe, his appointed minister, is older—he - must look back now on the colours of <span class="pagenum">82</span><a - name="link082" id="link082"></a><i>Youth</i> with an indulgent smile. And - when Marlowe is absent, in such novels as <i>The Secret Agent</i> and <i>Under - Western Eyes</i>, in such a volume of stories as <i>A Set of Six</i>, the - lyrical beat in the style is utterly abandoned—we are led forward by - sentences as grave, as assured, and sometimes as ponderous as a city - policeman. Nevertheless, in that passage from <i>Chance</i> quoted at the - beginning of the chapter, although we may be far from the undisciplined - enthusiasm of <i>An Outcast of the Islands</i>, the lyrical impulse still - remains. Yes, it is there, but—“Young Powell felt it.” In that - magical storm that was <i>Typhoon</i> God alone can share our terror and - demand our courage; in the later experience young Powell is our companion. - </p> - <h3> - II. - </h3> - <p> - The question of style devolves here directly into the question of - atmosphere. There may roughly be said to be four classes of novelists in - the matter of atmosphere. There is the novelist who, intent upon his <span - class="pagenum">83</span><a name="link083" id="link083"></a>daily bread or - game of golf, has no desire to be worried by such a perplexing business. - He produces stories that might without loss play the whole of their action - in the waiting-room of an English railway station. There is the novelist - who thinks that atmosphere matters immensely, who works hard to produce it - and <i>does</i> produce it in thick slabs. There are the novelists whose - theme, characters and background react so admirably that the atmosphere is - provided simply by that reaction—and there, finally, it is left, put - into no relation with other atmospheres, serving no further purpose than - the immediate one of stating the facts. Of this school are the realists - and, in our own day, Mr Arnold Bennett’s Brighton background in <i>Hilda - Lessways</i> or Mrs Wharton’s New York background in <i>The House of Mirth</i> - offer most successful examples of such realistic work. The fourth class - provides us with the novelists who wish to place their atmosphere in - relation with the rest of life. Our imagination is awakened, insensibly, - by the contemplation of some scene and is thence <span class="pagenum">84</span><a - name="link084" id="link084"></a>extended to the whole vista, of life, from - birth to death; although the scene may actually be as remote or as - conlined as space can make it, its potential limits are boundless, its - progression is extended beyond all possibilities of definition. Such a - moment is the death of Bazarov in <i>Fathers and Children</i>, the - searching of Dmitri in <i>The Brothers Karamazov</i>, the scene at the - theatre in <i>The Ring and the Book</i>, the London meeting between - Beauchamp and René in <i>Beauchamp’s Career</i>. It is not only that these - scenes are “done” to the full extent of their “doing,” it is also that - they have behind them the lyrical impulse that ignites them with all the - emotion and beauty in the history of the world; Turgeniev, Dostoievsky, - Browning, Meredith were amongst the greatest of the poets. Conrad, at his - highest moments, is also of that company. - </p> - <p> - But it is not enough to say that this potential atmosphere is simply - lyrical. Mr Chesterton, in his breathless <i>Victorian Age in Literature</i>, - has named this element Glamour. <span class="pagenum">85</span><a - name="link085" id="link085"></a>In writing of the novels by George Eliot - he says: “Indeed there is almost every element of literature, except a - certain indescribable thing called <i>Glamour</i>, which was the whole - stock-in-trade of the Brontes, which we feel in Dickens when Quilp - clambers, and rotten wood by the desolate river; and even in Thackeray, - when Edmond wanders like some swarthy crow about the dismal avenues of - Castlewood.” Now’ this matter of <i>Glamour</i> is not all, because - Dickens, for instance, is not at all potential. His pictures of Quilp or - the house of the Dedloeks or Jonas Chuzzlewit’s escape after the murder do - not put us into touch with other worlds—but we may say, at any rate, - that when, in a novel atmosphere <i>is</i> potential it is certain also to - have glamour. - </p> - <p> - The potential qualities of Conrad’s atmosphere are amongst his very - strongest gifts and, it we investigate the matter, we see that it is his - union of Romance and Realism that gives such results. Of almost no - important scene in his novels is it possible to define the boundaries. In - <i>The Outcast <span class="pagenum">86</span><a name="link086" id="link086"></a>of the Islands</i>, when Willems is exiled by Captain - Lingard, the terror of that forest has at its heart not only the actual - terror of that immediate scene, minutely and realistically described—it - has also the terror of all our knowledge of loneliness, desolation, the - power of something stronger than ourselves. In <i>Lord Jim</i> the - contrast of Jim with the officers of the <i>Patna</i> is a contrast not - only immediately vital and realised to the very fringe of the captain’s - gay and soiled pyjamas, but also potential to the very limits of our - ultimate conception of the eternal contrast between good and evil, - degradation and vigour, ugliness and beauty. In <i>The Nigger of the - Narcissus</i> the death of the negro, James Wait, immediately affects the - lives of a number of very ordinary human beings whose friends and - intimates we have become—but that shadow that traps the feet of the - negro, that alarms the souls of Donkin, of Belfast, of Singleton, of the - boy Charlie, creeps also to our sides and envelops for us far more than - that single voyage of the <i>Narcissus</i>. <span class="pagenum">87</span><a - name="link087" id="link087"></a>When Winnie Verloc, her old mother and the - boy Stevie, take their journey in the cab it does not seem ludicrous to us - that the tears of “that large female in a dark, dusty wig, and ancient - silk dress festooned with dingy white cotton lace” should move us as - though Mrs Verloc were our nearest friend. That mournful but courageous - journey remains in our mind as an intimate companion of our own mournful - and courageous experiences. Such examples might be multiplied quite - indefinitely. - </p> - <p> - He has always secured his atmosphere by his own eager curiosity about - significant detail, but his detail is significant, not because he wishes - to impress his reader with the realism of his picture, but rather because - he s, like a very small boy in a strange house, pursuing the most romantic - adventures for his own pleasure and excitement only. We may hear, with - many novelists, the click of satisfaction with which they drive another - nail into the framework that supports their picture. “Now see how firmly - it stands,” they say. “That last nail settled it.” But <span - class="pagenum">88</span><a name="link088" id="link088"></a>Conrad is - utterly unconscious as to his readers’ later credulity—he is too - completely held by his own amazing discoveries. Sometimes, as in <i>The - Return</i>, when no vision is granted to him, it is as though he were - banging on a brass tray with all his strength so that no one should - perceive his own grievous disappointment at his failure. But, in his real - discoveries, how the atmosphere piles itself up, around and about him, how - we follow at his heels, penetrating the darkness, trusting to his courage, - finding ourselves suddenly blinded by the blaze of Aladdin’s cave! If he - is tracing the tragedy of Willems and Almayer, a tragedy that has for its - natural background the gorgeous, heavy splendour of those unending - forests, he sees details that belong to the austerest and most sharply - disciplined realism. We see Lakamba, asleep under the moon, slapping - himself in his dreams to keep off the mosquitoes; a bluebottle comes - buzzing into the verandah above the dirty plates of a half-finished meal - and defies Lingard and Almayer, so <span class="pagenum">89</span><a - name="link089" id="link089"></a>that they are like men disheartened by - some tremendous failure; the cards with which Lingard tries to build a - house for Almayer’s baby are “a dirty double pack” with which he used to - play Chinese bézique—it bored Almayer but the old seaman delighted - in it, considering it a remarkable product of Chinese genius. The - atmosphere of the terrible final chapters is set against this picture of a - room in which Mrs Willems is waiting for her abominable husband: - </p> - <p> - “Bits of white stuff; rags yellow, pink, blue; rags limp, brilliant and - soiled, trailed on the floor, lay on the desk amongst the sombre covers of - books soiled, greasy, but stiff-backed in virtue, perhaps, of their - European origin. The biggest set of bookshelves was partly hidden by a - petticoat, the waistband of which was caught upon the back of a slender - book pulled a little out of the row so as to make an improvised - clothes-peg. The folding canvas bedstead stood anyhow, parallel to no - wall, as if it had been, in the process of transportation to some remote - place, dropped casually there by tired bearers. And on the tumbled - blankets that <span class="pagenum">90</span><a name="link090" id="link090"></a>lay - in a disordered heap on its edge, Joanna sat.... Through the half-open - shutter a ray of sunlight, a ray merciless and crude, came into the room, - beat in the early morning upon the safe in the far-off corner, then, - travelling against the sun, cut at midday the big desk in two with its - solid and clean-edged brilliance; with its hot brilliance in which a swarm - of flies hovered in dancing flight over some dirty plate forgotten there - amongst yellow papers for many a day!” - </p> - <p> - And this room is set in the very heart of the forests—“the forests - unattainable, enigmatical, for ever beyond reach like the stars of heaven—and - as indifferent.” Had I space I could multiply from every novel and tale - examples of this creation of atmosphere by the juxtaposition of the - lyrical and the realistic—the lyrical pulse beating through - realistic detail ami transforming it. I will, however, select one book, a - supreme example of this effect. What I say about <i>Nostromo</i> may be - proved from any other work of Conrad’s. - </p> - <p> - The theme of <i>Nostromo</i> is the domination <span class="pagenum">91</span><a - name="link091" id="link091"></a>of the silver of the Sulaco mine over the - bodies and souls of the human beings who live near it. The light of the - silver shines over the book. It is typified by “the white head of - Iliguerota rising majestically upon the blue.” Conrad, then, in choosing - his theme, has selected the most romantic possible, the spirit of silver - treasure luring men on desperately to adventure and to death. His - atmosphere, therefore, is, in its highest lights, romantic, even until - that last vision of all of “the bright line of the horizon, overhung by a - big white cloud shining like a mass of solid silver.” Sulaco burns with - colour. We can see, as though we had been there yesterday, those streets - with the coaches, “great family arks swayed on high leathern springs full - of pretty powdered faces in which the eyes looked intensely alive and - black,” the houses, “in the early sunshine, delicate primrose, pale pink, - pale blue,” or, after dark, from Mrs Gould’s balcony “towards the plaza - end of the street the glowing coals in the hazeros of the market women - cooking their <span class="pagenum">92</span><a name="link092" id="link092"></a>evening - meal glowed red along the edge of the pavement. A man appeared without a - sound in the light of a street lamp, showing the coloured inverted - triangle of his broidered poncho, square on his shoulders, hanging to a - point below his knees. From the harbour end of the Calle a horseman walked - his soft-stepping mount, gleaming silver-grey abreast each lamp under the - dark shape of the rider.” Later there is that sinister glimpse of the - plaza, “where a patrol of cavalry rode round and round without penetrating - into the streets which resounded with shouts and the strumming of guitars - issuing from the open doors of pulperias... and above the roofs, next to - the perpendicular lines of the cathedral towers the snowy curve of - Higuerota blocked a large space of darkening blue sky before the windows - of the Intendencia.” In its final created beauty Sulaco is as romantic, as - coloured as one of those cloud-topped, many-towered towns under whose - gates we watch Grimm’s princes and princesses passing—but the detail - of it is <span class="pagenum">93</span><a name="link093" id="link093"></a>built - with careful realism demanded by the “architecture of Manchester or - Birmingham.” We wonder, as Sulaco grows familiar to us, as we realise its - cathedral, its squares and streets and houses, its slums, its wharves, its - sea, its hills and forests, why it is that other novelists have not - created towns for us. - </p> - <p> - Anthony Trollope did, indeed, give us Barchester, but Barchester is a - shadow beside Sulaco. Mr Thomas Hardy’s Wessex map is the most fascinating - document in modern fiction, with the possible exception of Stevenson’s - chart in <i>Treasure Island</i>. Conrad, without any map at all, gives us - a familiarity with a small town on the South American coast that far - excels our knowledge of Barsetshire, Wessex and John Silver’s treasure. If - any attentive reader of <i>Nostromo</i> were put down in Sulaco tomorrow - he would feel as though he had returned to his native town. The detail - that provides this final picture is throughout the book incessant but - never intruding. We do not look back, when the novel is <span - class="pagenum">94</span><a name="link094" id="link094"></a>finished, to - any especial moment of explanation or introduction. We have been led, - quite unconsciously, forward. We are led, at moments of the deepest drama, - through rooms and passages that are only remembered, many hours later, in - retrospect. There is, for instance, the Aristocratic Club, that “extended - to strangers the large hospitality of the cool, big rooms of its historic - quarters in the front part of a house, once a residence of a High official - of the Holy Office. The two wings, shut up, crumbled behind the nailed - doors, and what may be described as a grove of young orange-trees grown in - the unpaved patio concealed the utter ruin of the back part facing the - gate. You turned in from the street, as if entering a secluded orchard, - where you came upon the foot of a disjointed staircase, guarded by a - moss-stained effigy of some saintly bishop, mitred and stalled, and - bearing the indignity of a broken nose meekly, with his fine stone hands - crossed on his breast. The chocolate-coloured faces of servants with mops - of black hair peeped at you from above; the click of billiard balls came - to your ears, and, <span class="pagenum">95</span><a name="link095" id="link095"></a>ascending the steps, you would perhaps see in the first - steps, very stiff upon a straight-backed chair, in a good light, Don Pépé - moving his long moustaches as he spelt his way, at arm’s length, through - an old Sta Marta newspaper. His horse—a strong-hearted but - persevering black brute, with a hammer bead—you would have seen in - the street dozing motionless under an immense saddle, with its nose almost - touching the curbstone of the side-walk!” - </p> - <p> - How perfectly recollected is that passage! Can we not hear the exclamation - of some reader “Yes—those orange-trees! It was just like that when I - was there!” How convinced we are of Conrad’s unimpeachable veracity! How - like him are those remembered details, “the nailed doors,” “the fine stone - hands,” “at arm’s-length”!—and can we not sniff something of the - author’s impatience to let himself go and tell us more about that - “hammer-headed horse” of whose adventures with Don Pépé he must remember - enough to fill a volume! - </p> - <p> - He is able, therefore, upon this foundation <span class="pagenum">96</span><a - name="link096" id="link096"></a>of a minute and scrupulous réalisai to - build as fantastic a building as he pleases without fear of denying Truth. - He does not, in <i>Nostromo</i> at any rate, choose to be fantastic, but - he is romantic, and our final impression of the silver mine and the town - under its white shining shadow is of something both as real and as - beautiful as any vision of Keats or Shelley. But with the colour we - remember also the grim tragedy of the life that has been shown to us. Near - to the cathedral and the little tinkering streets of the guitars were the - last awful struggles of the unhappy Hirsch. We remember Nostromo riding, - with his silver buttons, catching the red flower flung to him out of the - crowd, but we remember also his death and the agony of his defeated pride. - Sotillo, the vainest and most sordid of bandits, is no figure for a fairy - story. - </p> - <p> - Here, then, is the secret of Conrad’s atmosphere. He is the poet, working - through realism, to the poetic vision of life. That intention is at the - heart of his work from the first line of <i>Almayer s Folly</i> to the - last <span class="pagenum">97</span><a name="link097" id="link097"></a>line - of <i>Victory. Nostromo</i> is not simply the history of certain lives - that were concerned in a South American revolution. It <i>is</i> that - history, but it is also a vision, a statement of beauty that has no - country, nor period, and sets no barrier of immediate history or fable for - its interpretation.... - </p> - <p> - When, however, we come finally to the philosophy that lies behind this - creation of character and atmosphere we perceive, beyond question, certain - limitations. - </p> - <h3> - III - </h3> - <p> - As we have already seen, Conrad is of the firm and resolute conviction - that life is too strong, too clever and too remorseless for the sons of - men. - </p> - <p> - It is as though, from some high window, looking down, he were able to - watch some shore, from whose security men were for ever launching little - cockle-shell boats upon a limitless and angry sea. He observes them, as - they advance with confidence, with determination, each with his own sure - <span class="pagenum">98</span><a name="link098" id="link098"></a>ambition - of nailing victory to his mast; he alone can see that the horizon is - limitless; he can see farther than they—from his height he can - follow their fortunes, their brave struggles, their fortitude to the very - last. He admires that courage, the simplicity of that faith, but his irony - springs from his knowledge of the inevitable end. - </p> - <p> - There are, we may thankfully maintain, other possible views of life, and - it is, surely, Conrad’s harshest limitation that he should never be free - from this certain obsession of the vanity of human struggle. So bound is - he by this that he is driven to choose characters who will prove his - faith. We can remember many fine and courageous characters of his - creation, we can remember no single one who is not foredoomed to defeat. - Jim wins, indeed, his victory, but at the close: “And that’s the end. He - passes away under a cloud, inscrutable at heart, forgotten, unforgiven, - and excessively romantic.... He goes away from a living woman to celebrate - his pitiless wedding with a shadowy ideal of conduct.” <span - class="pagenum">99</span><a name="link099" id="link099"></a>Conrad’s - ironical smile that has watched with tenderness the history of Jim’s - endeavours, proclaims, at the last, that that pursuit has been vain—as - vain as Stein’s butterflies. - </p> - <p> - And, for the rest, as Mr Curle in his study of Conrad has admirably - observed, every character is faced with the enemy for whom he is, by - character, least fitted. Nostromo, whose heart’s desire it is that his - merits should be acclaimed before men, is devoured by the one dragon to - whom human achievements are nothing—lust of treasure. - </p> - <p> - M’Whirr, the most unimaginative of men, is opposed by the most tremendous - of God’s splendid terrors and, although he saves his ship from the storm, - so blind is he to the meaning of the things that he has witnessed that he - might as well have never been born. Captain Brierley, watching the - degradation of a fellow-creature from a security that nothing, it seems, - can threaten, is himself caught by that very degradation.... The Beast in - the Jungle is waiting ever ready to leap—the victim is always in his - power. <span class="pagenum">100</span><a name="link100" id="link100"></a>It - comes from this philosophy of life that the qualities in the human soul - that Conrad most definitely admires are blind courage and obedience to - duty. His men of brain—Marlowe, Decoud, Stein—are melancholy - and ironic: “If you see far enough you must see how hopeless the struggle - is.” The only way to be honestly happy is to have no imagination and, - because Conrad is tender at heart and would have his characters happy, if - possible, he chooses men without imagination. Those are the men of the sea - whom he has known and loved. The men of the land see farther than the men - of the sea and must, therefore, be either fools or knaves. Towards Captain - Anthony, towards Captain Lingard he extends his love and pity. For Verloc, - for Ossipon, for old De Barral he has a disgust that is beyond words. For - the Fynes and their brethren he has contempt. For two women of the land, - Winnie Verloc and Mrs Gould, he reserves his love, and for them alone, but - they have, in their hearts, the simplicity, the honesty of his own sea - captains. <span class="pagenum">101</span><a name="link101" id="link101"></a>This - then is quite simply his philosophy. It has no variation or relief. He - will not permit his characters to escape, he will not himself try to draw - the soul of a man who is stronger than Fate. His ironic melancholy does - not, tor an instant, hamper his interest—that is as keen and acute - as is the absorption of any collector of specimens—but at the end of - it all, as with his own Stein: “He says of him that he is ‘preparing to - leave all this: preparing to leave...’ while he waves his hand sadly at - his butterflies.” - </p> - <p> - Utterly opposed is it from the philosophy of the one English writer whom, - in all other ways, Conrad most obviously resembles—Robert Browning. - As philosophers they have no possible ground of communication, save in the - honesty that is common to both of them. As artists, both in their subjects - and their treatment of their subjects, they are, in many ways, of an - amazing resemblance, although the thorough investigation of that - resemblance would need far more space than I can give it here. Browning’s - <span class="pagenum">102</span><a name="link102" id="link102"></a>interest - in life was derived, on the novelist’s side of him, from his absorption in - the affairs, spiritual and physical, of men and women; on the poet’s side, - in the question again spiritual and physical, that arose from those - affairs. Conrad has not Browning’s clear-eyed realisation of the necessity - of discovering the individual philosophy that belongs to every individual - case—he is too immediately enveloped in his one overwhelming - melancholy analysis. But he has exactly that eager, passionate pursuit of - romance, a romance to be seized only through the most accurate and honest - realism. - </p> - <p> - Browning’s realism was born of his excitement at the number and interest - of his discoveries; he chose, for instance, in <i>Sordello</i> the most - romantic of subjects, and, having made his choice, found that there was - such a world of realistic detail in the case that, in his excitement, he - forgot that the rest of the world did not know quite as much as he did. Is - not this exactly what we may say of <i>Nostromo?</i> Mr Chesterton has - written of <span class="pagenum">103</span><a name="link103" id="link103"></a>Browning: - “He substituted the street with the green blind for the faded garden of - Watteau, and the ‘blue spirt of a lighted match’ for the monotony of the - evening star.” Conrad has substituted for the lover serenading his - mistress’ window the passion of a middle-aged, faded woman for her idiot - boy, or the elopement of the daughter of a fraudulent speculator with an - elderly, taciturn sea captain. - </p> - <p> - The characters upon whom Robert Browning lavished his affection are - precisely Conrad’s characters. Is not Waring Conrad’s man? - </p> - <p> - And for the rest, is not Mr Sludge own brother to Verloc and old De - Barrel? Bishop Blougram first cousin to the great Personage in <i>The - Secret Agent</i>, Captain Anthony brother to Caponsacchi, Mrs Gould sister - to Pompilia? It is not only that Browning and Conrad both investigate - these characters with the same determination to extract the last word of - truth from the matter, not grimly, but with a thrilling beat of the heart, - it is also that the worlds of these <span class="pagenum">104</span><a - name="link104" id="link104"></a>two poets are the same. How deeply would - Nostromo, Decoud, Gould, Monyngham, the Verlocs, Flora de Barrel, M’Whirr, - Jim have interested Browning! Surely Conrad has witnessed the revelation - of Caliban, of Childe Roland, of James Lee’s wife, of the figures in the - Arezzo tragedy, even of that bishop who ordered his tomb at St Praxed’s - Church, with a strange wonder as though he himself had assisted at these - discoveries! - </p> - <p> - Finally, <i>The Ring and the Book</i>, with its multiplied witnesses, its - statement as a “case” of life, its pursuit of beauty through truth, the - simplicity of the characters of Pompilia, Caponsacchi and the Pope, the - last frantic appeal of Guido, the detail, encrusted thick in the walls of - that superb building—here we can see the highest pinnacle of that - temple that has <i>Chance, Lord Jim, Nostromo</i> amongst its other - turrets, buttresses and towers. - </p> - <p> - Conrad is his own master—he has imitated no one, he has created, as - I have already said, his own planet, but the heights to which Browning - carried Romantic-Realism showed <span class="pagenum">105</span><a - name="link105" id="link105"></a>the author of <i>Almayer’s Folly</i> the - signs of the road that he was to follow. - </p> - <p> - If, as has often been said, Browning was as truly novelist as poet, may we - not now say with equal justice that Conrad is as truly poet as novelist? - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - IV—ROMANCE AND REALISM - </h2> - <h3> - I - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE <span - class="pagenum">106</span><a name="link106" id="link106"></a>terms, - Romance and Realism, have been used of late years very largely as a means - of escape from this business of the creation of character. The purely - romantic novel may now be said to be, in England at any rate, absolutely - dead. Mr Frank Swinnerton, in his study of <i>Robert Louis Stevenson</i>, - said: “Stevenson, reviving the never-very-prosperous romance of England, - created a school which has brought romance to be the sweepings of an old - costume-chest;... if romance is to be conventional in a double sense, if - it spring not from a personal vision of life, but is only a tedious - virtuosity, a pretence, a conscious toy, romance as an art is dead. The - art was jaded when Reade finished his vocifer<span class="pagenum">107</span><a - name="link107" id="link107"></a>ous carpet-beating; but it was not dead. - And if it is dead, Stevenson killed it!” - </p> - <p> - We may differ very considerably from Mr Swinnerton with regard to his - estimate of Stevenson’s present and future literary value without denying - that the date of the publication of <i>St Ives</i> was also the date of - the death of the purely romantic novel. - </p> - <p> - But, surely, here, as Mr Swinnerton himself infers, the term “Romantic” is - used in the limited and truncated idea that has formed, lately the popular - idea of Romance. In exactly the same way the term “Realism” has, recently, - been most foolishly and uncritically handicapped. Romance, in its modern - use, covers everything that is removed from reality: “I like romances,” we - hear the modern reader say, “because they take me away from real life, - which I desire to forget.” In the same way Realism is defined by its - enemies as a photographic enumeration of unimportant facts by an observant - pessimist. “I like realism,” admirers of a certain order of novel <span - class="pagenum">108</span><a name="link108" id="link108"></a>exclaim, - “because it is so like life. It tells me just what I myself see every day—I - know where I am.” - </p> - <p> - Nevertheless, impatient though we may be of these utterly false ideas of - Romance and Realism, a definition of those terms that will satisfy - everyone is almost impossible. I cannot hope to achieve so exclusive an - ambition—I can only say that to myself Realism is the study of life - with all the rational faculties of observation, reason and reminiscence—Romance - is the study of life with the faculties of imagination. I do not mean that - Realism may not be emotional, poetic, even lyrical, but it is based always - upon truth perceived and recorded—-it is the essence ol observation. - In the same way Romance may be, indeed must be, accurate and defined in - its own world, but its spirit is the spirit of imagination, working often - upon observation and sometimes simply upon inspiration. It is, at any - rate, understood here that the word Romance does not, for a moment, imply - a necessary divorce from reality, nor does <span class="pagenum">109</span><a - name="link109" id="link109"></a>Realism imply a detailed and dusty - preference for morbid and unagreeable subjects. It is possible for Romance - to be as honestly and clearly perceptive as Realism, but it is not so easy - for it to be so because imagination is more difficult of discipline than - observation. It is possible for Realism to be as eloquent and potential as - Romance, although it cannot so easily achieve eloquence because of its - fear of deserting truth. Moreover, with regard to the influence of foreign - literature upon the English novel, it may be suggested that the influence - of the French novel, which was at its strongest between the years of 1885 - and 1895, was towards Realism, and that the influence of the Russian - novel, which has certainly been very strongly marked in England during the - last years, is all towards Romantic-Realism. If we wished to know exactly - what is meant by Romantic-Realism, such a novel as <i>The Brothers - Karamazov</i>, such a play as <i>The Cherry Orchard</i> are there before - us, as the best possible examples. We might say, in a word, that <i>Karamazov</i> - has, in the England <span class="pagenum">110</span><a name="link110" id="link110"></a>of 1915, taken the place that was occupied, in 1890, by - <i>Madame Bovary</i>.... - </p> - <h3> - II - </h3> - <p> - It is Joseph Conrad whose influence is chiefly responsible for this - development in the English novel. Just as, in the early nineties, Mr Henry - James and Mr Rudyard Kipling, the one potential, the other kinetic, - influenced, beyond all contemporary novelists, the minds of their younger - generation, so to-day, twenty-five years later, do Mr Joseph Conrad and Mr - H. G. Wells, the one potential, the other kinetic, hold that same - position. - </p> - <p> - Joseph Conrad, from the very first, influenced though he was by the French - novel, showed that Realism alone was not enough for him. That is to say - that, in presenting the case of Almayer, it was not enough for him merely - to state as truthfully as possible the facts. Those facts, sordid as they - are, make the story of Almayer’s degradation sufficiently realistic, when - it is merely <span class="pagenum">111</span><a name="link111" id="link111"></a>recorded - and perceived by any observer. But upon these recorded facts Conrad’s - imagination, without for a moment deserting the truth, worked, - beautifying, ennobling it, giving it pity and terror, above all putting it - mto relation with the whole universe, the whole history of the cycle of - life and death. - </p> - <p> - As I have said, the Romantic novel, in its simplest form, was used, very - often, by writers who wished to escape from the business of the creation - of character. It had not been used for that purpose by Sir Walter Scott, - who was, indeed, the first English Romantic-Realist, but it was so used by - his successors, who found a little optimism, a little adventure, a little - colour and a little tradition go a long way towards covering the required - ground. - </p> - <p> - Conrad had, from the first, a poet’s—that is to say, a romantic—mind, - and his determination to use that romance realistically was simply his - determination to justify the full play of his romantic mind in the eyes of - all honest men. <span class="pagenum">112</span><a name="link112" id="link112"></a>In that intention he has absolutely succeeded; he has not - abated one jot of his romance—<i>Nostromo, Lord Jim, Heart of - Darkness</i> are amongst the most romantic things in all our literature—but - the last charge that any critic can make against him is falsification, - whether of facts, of inference or of consequences. - </p> - <p> - The whole history of his development has for its key-stone this - determination to save his romance by his reality, to extend his reality by - his romance. He found in English fiction little that could assist him in - this development; the Russian novelists were to supply him with his clue. - This whole question of Russian influence is difficult to define, but that - Conrad has been influenced by Turgéniev a little and by Dostoievsky very - considerably, cannot be denied. <i>Crime and Punishment, The Idiot, The - Possessed, The Brothers Karamazov</i> are romantic realism at the most - astonishing heights that this development of the novel is ever likely to - attain. We will never see again heroes of the Prince Myshkin, Dmitri - Karamazov, <span class="pagenum">113</span><a name="link113" id="link113"></a>Nicolas - Stavrogin build, men so real to us that no change of time or place, age or - sickness can take them from us, men so beautifully lit with the romantic - passion of Dostoievsky’s love of humanity that they seem to warm the whole - world, as we know it, with the fire of their charity. That power of - creating figures typical as well as individual has been denied to Conrad. - Captain Anthony, Nostromo, Jim do not belong to the whole world, nor do - they escape the limitations and confinements that their presentation as - “cases” involves on them. Moreover, Conrad does not love humanity. He - feels pity, tenderness, admiration, but love, except for certain of his - sea heroes, never, and even with his sea heroes it is love built on his - scorn of the land. Dostoievsky scorned no one and nothing; as relentless - in his pursuit of the truth as Stendhal or Flaubert, he found humanity, as - he investigated it, beautiful because of its humanity—Conrad finds - humanity pitiable because of its humanity. - </p> - <p> - Nevertheless he has been influenced by <span class="pagenum">114</span><a - name="link114" id="link114"></a>the Russian writer continuously and - sometimes obviously. In at least one novel, <i>Under Western Eyes</i>, the - influence has led to imitation. For that reason, perhaps, that novel is - the least vital of all his books, and we feel as though Dostoievsky had - given him Razumov to see what he could make of him, and had remained too - overwhelmingly curious an onlooker to allow independent creation. What, - however, Conrad has in common with the creator of Raskolnikov is his - thrilling pursuit of the lives, the hearts, the minutest details of his - characters. Conrad alone of all English novelists shares this zest with - the great Russian. Dostoievsky found his romance in his love of his - fellow-beings, Conrad finds his in his love of beauty, his poet’s cry for - colour, but their realism they find together in the hearts of men—and - they find it not as Flaubert, that they make of it a perfect work of art, - not as Turgéniev, that they may extract from it a flower of poignant - beauty, not as Tolstoi, that they may, from it, found a gospel—simply - they pursue their quest <span class="pagenum">115</span><a name="link115" id="link115"></a>because the breathless interest of the pursuit is - stronger than they. They have, both of them, created characters simply - because characters demanded to be created. We feel that Emma Bovary was - dragged, painfully, arduously, against all the strength of her - determination, out of the shades where she was lurking. Myshkin, the - Karamazovs, and, in their own degree, Nostromo, Almayer, M’Whirr, demanded - that they should be flung upon the page. - </p> - <p> - Instead of seizing upon Romance as a means of avoiding character, he has - triumphantly forced it to aid him in the creation of the lives that, - through him, demand existence. This may be said to be the great thing that - Conrad has done for the English novel—he has brought the zest of - creation back into it; the French novelists used life to perfect their art—the - Russian novelists used art to liberate their passion for life. That at - this moment in Russia the novel has lost that zest, that the work of - Kouprin, Artzybashev, Sologub, Merejkovsky, Andreiev, shows exhaustion and - sterility <span class="pagenum">116</span><a name="link116" id="link116"></a>means - nothing; the stream will soon ran full again. Meanwhile we, in England, - know once more what it is to feel, in the novel, the power behind the - novelist, to be ourselves in the grip of a force that is not afraid of - romance nor ashamed of realism, that cares for life as life and not as a - means of proving the necessity for form, the danger of too many - adjectives, the virtues of the divorce laws or the paradise of free love. - </p> - <h3> - III - </h3> - <p> - Finally, what will be the effect of the work of Joseph Conrad upon the - English novel of the future? Does this Romantic-Realism that he has - provided for us show any signs of influencing that future? I think that it - does. In the work of all of the more interesting younger English novelists—in - the work of Mr E. M. Forster, Mr D. H. Lawrence, Mr J. D. Beresford, Mr W. - L. George, Mr Frank Swinnerton, Air Gilbert Gannan, Miss Viola Meynell, Mr - Brett Young—this influence is to be detected. <span class="pagenum">117</span><a - name="link117" id="link117"></a>Even with such avowed realists as Mr - Beresford, Mr George and Mr Swinnerton the realism is of a nature very - different from the realism of even ten years ago, as can be seen at once - by comparing so recent a novel as Mr Swinnerton’s <i>On the Staircase</i> - with Mr Arnold Bennett’s <i>Sacred and Profane Love</i>, or Mr - Galsworthy’s <i>Man of Property</i>—and Mr E. M. Forster is a - romantic-realist of most curious originality, whose <i>Longest Journey</i> - and <i>Howard’s End</i> may possibly provide the historian of English - literature with dates as important as the publication of <i>Almayer’s - Folly</i> in 1895. The answer to this question does not properly belong to - this essay. - </p> - <p> - It is, at any rate, certain that neither the old romance nor the old - realism can return. We have been shown in <i>Nostromo</i> something that - has the colour of <i>Treasure Island</i> and the reality of <i>New Grub - Street</i>. If, on the one hand, the pessimists lament that the English - novel is dead, that everything that can be done has been done, there is, - surely, on the other hand, some justification for the optimists who - believe that at few periods in <span class="pagenum">118</span><a - name="link118" id="link118"></a>English literature has the novel shown - more signs of a thrilling and original future. - </p> - <p> - For signs of the possible development of Conrad himselt one may glance for - a moment at his last novel, <i>Victory</i>. - </p> - <p> - The conclusion of <i>Chance</i> and the last volume of short stories had - shown that there was some danger lest romance should divorce him, - ultimately, from reality. <i>Victory</i>, splendid tale though it is, does - not entirely reassure us. The theme of the book is the pursuit of almost - helpless uprightness and innocence by almost helpless evil and malignancy; - that is to say that the strength and virtue of Heyst and Lena are as - elemental and independent of human will and effort as the villainy and - slime of Mr Jones and Ricardo. Conrad has here then returned to his old - early demonstration that nature is too strong for man and I feel as - though, in this book, he had intended the whole affair to be blown, - finally, sky-high by some natural volcanic eruption. He prepares for that - eruption and when, for some reason or another, that elemental catastrophe - is pre<span class="pagenum">119</span><a name="link119" id="link119"></a>vented - he consoles himself by strewing the beach of his island with the battered - corpses of his characters. It is in such a wanton conclusion, following as - it does immediately upon the finest, strongest and most beautiful thing in - the whole of Conrad—the last conversation between Heyst and Lena—that - we see this above-mentioned divorce from reality. We see it again in the - more fantastic characteristics of Mr Jones and Ricardo, in the presence of - the Orang Outang, and in other smaller and less important effects. At the - same time his realism, when he pleases, as in the arrival of the boat of - the thirst maddened trio on the island beach, is as magnificent in its - austerity and truth as ever it was. - </p> - <p> - Will he allow his imagination to carry him wildly into fantasy and - incredibility? He has not, during these last years, exerted the discipline - and restraint that were once his law. - </p> - <p> - Nevertheless, at the last, when one looks back over twenty years, from the - <i>Almayer’s Folly</i> of 1895 to the <i>Victory</i> of 1915, one <span - class="pagenum">120</span><a name="link120" id="link120"></a>realises that - it was, for the English novel, no mean nor insignificant fortune that - brought the author of those books to our shores to give a fresh impetus to - the progress of our literature and to enrich our lives with a new world of - character and high adventure. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - A SHORT BIBLIOGRAPHY OF JOSEPH CONRAD’S PRINCIPAL WRITINGS - </h2> - <p> - [The date is given of the first edition of each hook. New edition - signifies a change of format or transference to a different publisher.] - </p> - <p> - Almayer’s Folly. A Story of an Eastern River (Unwin). 1895. New editions. - (Nash). 1904; (Unwin). 1909, 1914, 1915. - </p> - <p> - An Outcast of the Islands (Unwin). 1896, New edition, 1914. - </p> - <p> - The Nigger of the “Narcissus”: A Tale of the Sea (Heinemann). 1897. New - edition, 1910. - </p> - <p> - Tales of Unrest (Unwin). 1898. New edition, 1909. - </p> - <p> - Lord Jim: A Tale (Blackwood). 1900. New edition, 1914. - </p> - <p> - The Inheritors: An Extravagant Story. By Joseph Conrad and Ford M. Hueffer - (Heinemann). 1901. - </p> - <p> - Youth: a Narrative, and Two Other Stories (Black wood). 1902. - </p> - <p> - Typhoon and Other Stories (Heinemann). 1903. New edition, 1912. - </p> - <p> - Romance: A Novel. By Joseph Conrad and Ford Madox Hueffer (Smith, Elder). - 1903. New edition (Aelson). 1909. - </p> - <p> - Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard (Harder). 1904. The Mirror of the Sea: - Memories and Impressions (Methuen). 1903. New editions, 1913, 1915. The - Secret Agent: A Simple Tale (Methuen). 1907. - </p> - <p> - New edition, 1914. - </p> - <p> - A Set of Six: Tales (Methuen). 1908 Under Western Eyes (Methuen). 1911. - New edition, 1915. - </p> - <p> - Some Reminiscences (Nash). 1912. - </p> - <p> - Twixt Land and Sea: Tales (Dent). 1912. New edition, 1914. - </p> - <p> - Chance: A Tale in Two Parts (Methuen). 1914. Within the Tides: Tales - (Dent). 1915. - </p> - <p> - Victory: An Island Tale (Methuen). 1915. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - AMERICAN BIBLIOGRAPHY - </h2> - <p> - <span class="pagenum">123</span><a name="link123" id="link123"></a>Almayer’s - Folly: A Story of an Eastern River (<i>Macmillan</i>). 1895. New editions, - 1912; (<i>Doubleday</i>). 1911. - </p> - <p> - An Outcast of the Islands (<i>Appleton</i>). 1896. New edition (<i>Doubleday</i>). - 1914. - </p> - <p> - Children of the Sea: A Tale of the Forecastle (<i>Dodd, Mead</i>). 1897. - New edition, 1912. New edition under English title: “The Nigger of the - ‘Narcissus’” (<i>Doubleday</i>). 1914. - </p> - <p> - Tales of Unrest (<i>Scribner</i>). 1898. - </p> - <p> - Lord Jim (<i>Doubleday</i>) 1900. New edition, 1914. - </p> - <p> - The Inheritors. By Joseph Conrad and Ford M. Hueffer (<i>McClure Co.</i>). - 1901. - </p> - <p> - Typhoon (<i>Putman</i>). 1902. New edition (<i>Doubleday</i>). 1914. - </p> - <p> - Youth, and two Other Stories (<i>McClure Co</i>. Afterwards transferred to - <i>Doubleday</i>). 1903. - </p> - <p> - Falk: Amy Foster: Tomorrow [Three Stories] (<i>McClure Co.</i>). 1903. New - edition (<i>Doubleday</i>). 1914. - </p> - <p> - Romance. By Joseph Conrad and Ford Madox Hueffer (<i>McClure Co</i>. - Afterwards transferred to <i>Doubleday</i>). 1904. - </p> - <p> - Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard (<i>Harper</i>), 1904. <span - class="pagenum">124</span><a name="link124" id="link124"></a>The Mirror of - the Sea: Memories and Impressions (<i>Harper</i>). 1906. - </p> - <p> - The Secret Agent: A Simple Tale (<i>Harper</i>). 1907. - </p> - <p> - A Point of Honour: A Military Tale (<i>McClure Co</i>. Afterwards - transferred to <i>Doubleday</i>). 1908. Under Western Eyes: A Novel (<i>Harper</i>). - 1911. - </p> - <p> - A Personal Retold (<i>Harper</i>). 1912. - </p> - <p> - ‘Twist Land and Sea: Tales (<i>Doran</i>). 1912. New edition (<i>Doubleday</i>). - 1911. - </p> - <p> - Chance: A Tale in Two Parts (<i>Doubleday</i>). 1914. - </p> - <p> - A Set of Six [Tales: one, “The Duel.” previously issued as “A Point of - Honour”] (<i>Doubleday</i>). 1915. - </p> - <p> - Victory: An Island Tale (<i>Doubleday</i>). 1915. - </p> - <p> - Within the Tides: Tales (<i>Doubleday</i>). 1916. - </p> - -<p> - <a name="linkindex" id="linkindex"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - INDEX - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - - - -_Almayer’s Folly_, <a href="#link009">9</a>, <a href="#link012">12</a>, <a - href="#link013">13</a>, <a href="#link014">14</a>, <a href="#link022">22</a>, <a - href="#link038">38</a>, <a href="#link075">75</a>, <a href="#link119">119</a> - - -Bennett, Arnold, <a href="#link039">39</a>, <a href="#link083">83</a> -Beresford, J. D., <a href="#link116">116</a> -_Brothers Karamazov, The_, <a href="#link109">109</a> -Browning, <a href="#link084">84</a>, <a href="#link101">101</a>, <a - href="#link102">102</a>, <a href="#link103">103</a>, <a href="#link104">104</a> - - -_Chance_, <a href="#link014">14</a>, <a href="#link016">16</a>, <a - href="#link021">21</a>, <a href="#link043">43</a>, <a href="#link033">33</a>, <a - href="#link056">56</a>, <a href="#link119">119</a> -_Cherry Orchard, The_, <a href="#link060">60</a>, <a href="#link109">109</a> -Chesterton, G. K., <a href="#link084">84</a> -Conrad, J., birth, <a href="#link008">8</a>, naturalised, <a href="#link008">8</a> -Curie, R., <a href="#link099">99</a> - - -Dickens, <a href="#link085">85</a> -Dostoievsky, <a href="#link020">20</a>, <a href="#link084">84</a>, <a - href="#link113">113</a>, <a href="#link114">114</a> - - -Eliot, George, <a href="#link085">85</a> -_End of the Tether, The_, <a href="#link056">56</a> -_Evan Harrington_, <a href="#link038">38</a> -_Eve of St Agnes, The_, <a href="#link081">81</a> - - -Flaubert, <a href="#link077">77</a>, <a href="#link114">114</a> -Form, <a href="#link040">40</a> -Forster, E. M., <a href="#link117">117</a> -_Freya of the Seven Islands_, <a href="#link035">35</a> - - -Galsworthy, J., <a href="#link059">59</a> -George, W. L., <a href="#link116">116</a> - - -Hardy, <a href="#link038">38</a>, <a href="#link059">59</a>, <a href="#link093">93</a> -_Heart of Darkness_, <a href="#link017">17</a>, <a href="#link056">56</a>, <a - href="#link075">75</a>, <a href="#link079">79</a>, <a href="#link081">81</a> -Hueffer, F. M., <a href="#link014">14</a> - - -Irony, <a href="#link055">55</a> - - -James, Henry, <a href="#link038">38</a>, <a href="#link041">41</a>, <a - href="#link042">42</a>, <a href="#link059">59</a>, <a href="#link110">110</a> - - -Keats, <a href="#link081">81</a> -Kipling, R., <a href="#link038">38</a>, <a href="#link110">110</a> - - -_Lord Jim_, <a href="#link013">13</a>, <a href="#link016">16</a>, <a - href="#link043">43</a>, <a href="#link056">56</a>, <a href="#link073">73</a>, <a - href="#link080">80</a> -Lyrical impulse, <a href="#link082">82</a> - - -_Madame Bovary_, <a href="#link038">38</a>, <a href="#link077">77</a>,110 -Meredith, <a href="#link038">38</a>, <a href="#link084">84</a> -Method in fiction, <a href="#link041">41</a>, <a href="#link048">48</a>, etc. -Mid-Victorian English novel, <a href="#link058">58</a> -_Mirror of the Sea, The_, <a href="#link016">16</a>, <a href="#link021">21</a>, <a - href="#link027">27</a>, <a href="#link030">30</a>, <a href="#link032">32</a> - - -Nature, <a href="#link078">78</a> -_Nigger of the Narcissus_, The, <a href="#link013">13</a>, <a href="#link015">15</a>. 27, <a - href="#link056">56</a>, <a href="#link063">63</a>, <a href="#link075">75</a>, <a - href="#link086">86</a> -_Nostrcmo_, <a href="#link014">14</a>, <a href="#link018">18</a>, <a - href="#link043">43</a>, <a href="#link049">49</a>, <a href="#link056">56</a>, <a - href="#link079">79</a>, <a href="#link090">90</a>, <a href="#link096">96</a>, <a - href="#link097">97</a>, <a href="#link102">102</a> - - -_Outcast of the Islands, An_, <a href="#link014">14</a>, <a href="#link019">19</a>, <a - href="#link073">73</a>, <a href="#link079">79</a>, <a href="#link082">82</a>, <a - href="#link085">85</a> - - -Philosophy, <a href="#link057">57</a> -Poland, <a href="#link009">9</a>, <a href="#link024">24</a> - - -Realism. 108, <a href="#link110">110</a> -_Return, The_, <a href="#link075">75</a> -_Richard Feverel,_ 38 -_Romance_, <a href="#link014">14</a>, <a href="#link070">70</a> -Romance, <a href="#link108">108</a>. Russian influence, <a href="#link109">109</a>, <a - href="#link112">112</a> - - -Sea, <a href="#link008">8</a>, <a href="#link028">28</a> -_Secret Agent, The_, <a href="#link014">14</a>, <a href="#link019">19</a>, <a - href="#link057">57</a>, <a href="#link072">72</a>, <a href="#link082">82</a>, <a - href="#link103">103</a> -_Secret Sharer, The_, <a href="#link020">20</a> -_Set of Six, A_, <a href="#link020">20</a>, <a href="#link082">82</a> -Shaw, Bernard. 39 -Ships, <a href="#link033">33</a> -_Smile of Fortune, A_, <a href="#link020">20</a> -_Some Réminiscences_, <a href="#link021">21</a>, <a href="#link022">22</a>, <a - href="#link026">26</a> -_Sordello_, <a href="#link102">102</a> -_Spectator, The_, <a href="#link012">12</a> -Stevenson, Robert Louis, <a href="#link038">38</a>, <a href="#link093">93</a> -Style, <a href="#link082">82</a> -Swinnerton, Frink, <a href="#link106">106</a>, <a href="#link107">107</a>, <a - href="#link116">116</a> - - -_Tales of Unrest_, <a href="#link015">15</a>, <a href="#link075">75</a> -Tchekov, <a href="#link060">60</a> -Themes, <a href="#link054">54</a> -Tolstoi, <a href="#link114">114</a> -_T. P.‘s Weekly_, <a href="#link018">18</a> -_Trtmolino_, <a href="#link035">35</a> -Trollope, Anthony, <a href="#link093">93</a> -Turgeniev, <a href="#link020">20</a>, <a href="#link084">84</a>, <a - href="#link114">114</a> -_'Twixt Land and Sea_, <a href="#link020">20</a> 56 -_Typhoon_, <a href="#link014">14</a>, <a href="#link017">17</a>, <a - href="#link030">30</a>, <a href="#link056">56</a>, <a href="#link061">61</a>, <a - href="#link075">75</a>, <a href="#link079">79</a>, <a href="#link080">80</a>, <a - href="#link082">82</a> - - -_Under Western Eyes_, <a href="#link019">19</a>, <a href="#link057">57</a>, <a - href="#link072">72</a>, <a href="#link082">82</a> -_Une Vie_, <a href="#link038">38</a> - - -_Victory_, <a href="#link014">14</a>, <a href="#link118">118</a> - - -Wells, H. G., <a href="#link039">39</a>, <a href="#link059">59</a>, <a - href="#link110">110</a> -Wharton, Mrs, <a href="#link059">59</a>, <a href="#link083">83</a> -Whitman, <a href="#link081">81</a> - - -_Yellow Book, The_, <a href="#link038">38</a> -_Youth_, <a href="#link014">14</a>, <a href="#link017">17</a>, <a href="#link030">30</a>, <a - href="#link073">73</a>, <a href="#link079">79</a>, <a href="#link080">80</a>, <a - href="#link082">82</a> - -</pre> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Joseph Conrad, by Hugh Walpole - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOSEPH CONRAD *** - -***** This file should be named 52453-h.htm or 52453-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/4/5/52453/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you’ll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation.” - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. - -The Foundation’s principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - - -</pre> - - </body> -</html> diff --git a/old/52453-h/images/0001.jpg b/old/52453-h/images/0001.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index cac7669..0000000 --- a/old/52453-h/images/0001.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52453-h/images/0008.jpg b/old/52453-h/images/0008.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index cf7a32b..0000000 --- a/old/52453-h/images/0008.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52453-h/images/0009.jpg b/old/52453-h/images/0009.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index e7d5b91..0000000 --- a/old/52453-h/images/0009.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52453-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/52453-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index cac7669..0000000 --- a/old/52453-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52453-h/images/enlarge.jpg b/old/52453-h/images/enlarge.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 5a9bcf3..0000000 --- a/old/52453-h/images/enlarge.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/old/52453-h.htm.2021-01-24 b/old/old/52453-h.htm.2021-01-24 deleted file mode 100644 index 019dcdc..0000000 --- a/old/old/52453-h.htm.2021-01-24 +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3005 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
-
-<!DOCTYPE html
- PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
- "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" >
-
-<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
- <head>
- <title>
- Joseph Conrad, by Hugh Walpole
- </title>
- <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" />
- <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
-
- body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
- P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
- H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
- hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
- .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;}
- blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
- .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
- .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
- .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;}
- .xx-small {font-size: 60%;}
- .x-small {font-size: 75%;}
- .small {font-size: 85%;}
- .large {font-size: 115%;}
- .x-large {font-size: 130%;}
- .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;}
- .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;}
- .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;}
- .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;}
- .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;}
- .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;}
- div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
- div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
- .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
- .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
- .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em;
- font-variant: normal; font-style: normal;
- text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD;
- border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;}
- .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em;
- border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left;
- text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;
- font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;}
- .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em;
- border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center;
- text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;
- font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;}
- p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0}
- span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 }
- pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
-
-</style>
- </head>
- <body>
-
-
-<pre>
-
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Joseph Conrad, by Hugh Walpole
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-
-
-Title: Joseph Conrad
-
-Author: Hugh Walpole
-
-Release Date: June 30, 2016 [EBook #52453]
-Last Updated: November 20, 2016
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOSEPH CONRAD ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger from page images generously
-provided by the Internet Archive
-
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
- <div style="height: 8em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- JOSEPH CONRAD
- </h1>
- <h2>
- By Hugh Walpole
- </h2>
- <h4>
- New York: Henry Holt And Company
- </h4>
- <h3>
- 1916
- </h3>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0008.jpg" alt="0008 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0008.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0009.jpg" alt="0009 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0009.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <h3>
- TO
- </h3>
- <h3>
- SIR SIDNEY COLVIN
- </h3>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p>
- <b>CONTENTS</b>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I—BIOGRAPHY </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II—THE NOVELIST </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III—THE POET </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> IV—ROMANCE AND REALISM </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> A SHORT BIBLIOGRAPHY OF JOSEPH CONRAD’S
- PRINCIPAL WRITINGS </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> AMERICAN BIBLIOGRAPHY </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#linkindex"> INDEX </a>
- </p>
-
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- I—BIOGRAPHY
- </h2>
- <h3>
- I
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>O any<span
- class="pagenum">7</span><a name="link007" id="link007"></a> reader of the
- books of Joseph Conrad it must be at once plain that his immediate
- experiences and impressions of life have gone very directly to the making
- of his art. It may happen often enough that an author’s artistic life is
- of no importance to the critic and that his dealing with it is merely a
- personal impertinence and curiosity, but with the life of Joseph Conrad
- the critic has something to do, because, again and again, this writer
- deliberately evokes the power of personal reminiscence, charging it with
- the burden of his philosophy and the creation of his characters.
- </p>
- <p>
- With the details of his life we cannot, in any way, be concerned, but with
- the three backgrounds against whose form and colour <span class="pagenum">8</span><a
- name="link008" id="link008"></a>his art has been placed we have some
- compulsory connection.
- </p>
- <p>
- Joseph Conrad (Teodor Josef Konrad Karzeriowski) was born on 6th December
- 1857, and his birthplace was the Ukraine in the south of Poland. In 1862
- his father, who had been concerned in the last Polish rebellion, was
- banished to Vologda. The boy lived with his mother and father there until
- his mother died, when he was sent back to the Ukraine. In 1870 his lather
- died.
- </p>
- <p>
- Conrad was then sent to school in Cracow and there he remained until 1874,
- when, following an absolutely compelling impulse, he went to sea. In the
- month of May, 1878, he first landed on English ground; he knew at that
- time no English but learnt rapidly, and in the autumn of 1878 joined the
- <i>Duke of Sutherland</i> as ordinary seaman. He became a Master in the
- English Merchant Service in 1884, in which year he was naturalised. In
- 1894 he left the sea, whose servant he had been for nearly twenty years:
- he sent the manuscript of a novel that he had been writing at various
- periods during <span class="pagenum">9</span><a name="link009" id="link009"></a>his
- sea life to Mr Fisher Unwin. With that publisher’s acceptance of <i>Almayer’s
- Folly</i> the third period of his life began. Since then his history has
- been the history of his books.
- </p>
- <p>
- Looking for an instant at the dramatic contrast and almost ironical
- relationship of these three backgrounds—Poland, the Sea, the inner
- security and tradition of an English country-side—one can realise
- what they may make of an artist. That early Polish atmosphere, viewed
- through all the deep light and high shade of a remembered childhood, may
- be enough to give life and vigour to any poet’s temperament. The romantic
- melancholy born of early years in such an atmosphere might well plant
- deeply in any soul the ironic contemplation of an impossible freedom.
- </p>
- <p>
- Growing into youth in a land whose farthest bounds were held by unlawful
- tyranny, Conrad may well have contemplated the sea as the one unlimited
- monarchy of freedom and, even although he were too young to realise what
- impulses <span class="pagenum">10</span><a name="link010" id="link010"></a>those
- were that drove him, he may have felt that space and size and the force of
- a power stronger than man were the only conditions of possible liberty. He
- sought those conditions, found them and clung to them; he found, too, an
- ironic pity for men who could still live slaves and prisoners to other men
- when to them also such freedom was possible. That ironic pity he never
- afterwards lost, and the romance that was in him received a mighty impulse
- from that contrast that he was always now to contemplate. He discovered
- the Sea and paid to her at once his debt of gratitude and obedience. He
- thought it no hard thing to obey her when he might, at the same time, so
- honestly admire her and she has remained for him, as an artist, the only
- personality that he has been able wholeheartedly to admire. He found in
- her something stronger than man and he must have triumphed in the
- contemplation of the dominion that she could exercise, if she would, over
- the tyrannies that he had known in his childhood. <span class="pagenum">11</span><a
- name="link011" id="link011"></a>He found, too, in her service, the type of
- man who, most strongly, appealed to him. He had known a world composed of
- threats, fugitive rebellions, wild outbursts of defiance, inefficient
- struggles against tyranny, he was in the company now of those who realised
- so completely the relationship of themselves and their duty to their
- master and their service that there was simply nothing to be said about
- it. England had, perhaps, long ago called to him with her promise of
- freedom, and now on an English ship he realised the practice and
- performance of that freedom, indulged in, as it was, with the fewest
- possible words. Moreover, with his fund of romantic imagination, he must
- have been pleased by the contrast of his present company, men who, by
- sheer lack of imagination, ruled and served the most imaginative force in
- nature. The wonders of the sea, by day and by night, were unnoticed by his
- companions, and he admired their lack of vision. Too much vision had
- driven his country under the heel of Tyranny, had bred in himself a
- despair of <span class="pagenum">12</span><a name="link012" id="link012"></a>any
- possible freedom for far-seeing men; now he was a citizen of a world where
- freedom reigned because men could not perceive how it could be otherwise;
- the two sides of the shield were revealed to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then, towards the end of his twenty years’ service of the sea, the
- creative impulse in him demanded an outlet. He wrote, at stray moments of
- opportunity during several years, a novel, wrote it for his pleasure and
- diversion, sent it finally to a publisher with all that lack of confidence
- in posts and publishers that every author, who cares for his creations,
- will feel to the end of his days. He has said that if <i>Almayer’s Folly</i>
- had been refused he would never have written again, but we may well
- believe that, let the fate of that book be what it might, the energy and
- surprise of his discovery of the sea must have been declared to the world.
- <i>Almayer’s Folly</i>, however, was not rejected; its publication caused
- <i>The Spectator</i> to remark: “The name of Mr Conrad is new to us, but
- it appears to us as if he might become the Kipling of the Malay
- Archipelago.” He <span class="pagenum">13</span><a name="link013" id="link013"></a>had, therefore, encouragement of the most dignified kind
- from the beginning. He himself, however, may have possibly regarded that
- day in 1897 when Henley accepted <i>The Nigger of the Narcissus</i> for <i>The
- New Review</i> as a more important date in his new career. That date may
- serve for the commencement of the third period of his adventure.
- </p>
- <p>
- The quiet atmosphere of the England that he had adopted made the final,
- almost inevitable contrast with the earlier periods. With such a country
- behind him it was possible for him to contemplate in peace the whole
- “case” of his earlier life. It was as a “case” that he saw it, a “case”
- that was to produce all those other “cases” that were his books. This has
- been their history.
- </p>
- <h3>
- II
- </h3>
- <p>
- His books, also, find naturally a division into three parts; the first
- period, beginning with <i>Almayer’s Folly</i> in 1895, ended with <i>Lord
- Jim</i> in 1900. The second contains <span class="pagenum">14</span><a
- name="link014" id="link014"></a>the two volumes of <i>Youth</i> and <i>Typhoon</i>,
- the novel <i>Romance</i> that he wrote in collaboration with Ford Madox
- Hueffer, and ends with <i>Nostromo</i>, published in 1903. The third
- period begins, after a long pause, in 1907 with <i>The Secret Agent</i>,
- and receives its climax with the remarkable popularity of <i>Chance</i> in
- 1914, and <i>Victory</i> (1915).
- </p>
- <p>
- His first period was a period of struggle, struggle with a foreign
- language, struggle with a technique that was always, from the point of
- view of the “schools,” to remain too strong for him, struggles with the
- very force and power of his reminiscences that were urging themselves upon
- him, now at the moment of their contemplated freedom, like wild beasts
- behind iron bars. <i>Almayer’s Folly</i> and <i>The Outcast of the Islands</i>
- (the first of these is sequel to the second) were remarkable in the
- freshness of their discovery of a new world. It was not that their world
- had not been found before, but rather that Conrad, by the force of his own
- individual discovery, proclaimed his find with a new voice and a new
- vigour. In the <span class="pagenum">15</span><a name="link015" id="link015"></a>character of Almayer, of Aissa, of Willems, of Bahalatchi
- and Abdulla there was a new psychology that gave promise of great things.
- Nevertheless these early stories were overcharged with atmosphere, were
- clumsy in their development and conveyed in then style a sense of rhetoric
- and lack of ease. His vision of his background was pulled out beyond its
- natural intensity and his own desire to make it overwhelming was so
- obvious as to frighten the creature into a determination to be, simply out
- of malicious perversity, anything else.
- </p>
- <p>
- These two novels were followed by a volume of short stories, <i>Tales of
- Unrest</i>, that reveal, quite nakedly, Conrad’s difficulties. One study
- in this book, <i>The Return</i>, with its redundancies and overemphasis,
- is the crudest parody on its author and no single tale in the volume
- succeeds. It was, however, as though, with these efforts, Conrad flung
- himself free, for ever, from his apprenticeship; there appeared in 1898
- what remains perhaps still his most perfect work, <i>The Nigger of the
- Narcissus</i>. This <span class="pagenum">16</span><a name="link016" id="link016"></a>was a story entirely of the sea, of the voyage of a ship
- from port to port and of the influence upon that ship and upon the human
- souls that she contained, of the approaching shadow of death, an influence
- ironical, melancholy, never quite horrible, and always tender and
- humorous. Conrad must himself have loved, beyond all other vessels, the <i>Narcissus</i>.
- Never again, except perhaps in <i>The Mirror of the Sea</i>, was he to be
- so happily at his ease with any of his subjects. The book is a gallery of
- remarkably distinct and authentic portraits, the atmosphere is held in
- perfect restraint, and the overhanging theme is never, for an instant,
- abandoned. It is, above all, a record of lovingly cherished reminiscence.
- Of cherished reminiscence also was the book that closed the first period
- of his work, <i>Lord Jim</i>. This was to remain, until the publication of
- <i>Chance</i>, his most popular novel. It is the story of a young
- Englishman’s loss of honour in a moment of panic and his victorious
- recovery. The first half of the book is a finely sustained development of
- a <span class="pagenum">17</span><a name="link017" id="link017"></a>vividly
- remembered scene, the second half has the inevitability of a moral idea
- pursued to its romantic end rather than the inevitability of life. Here
- then in 1900 Conrad had worked himself free of the underground of the
- jungle and was able to choose his path. His choice was still dictated by
- the subjects that he remembered most vividly, but upon these rewards of
- observation his creative genius was working. James Wait, Donkin, Jim,
- Marlowe were men whom he had known, but men also to whom he had given a
- new birth.
- </p>
- <p>
- There appeared now in <i>Youth, Heart of Darkness</i> and <i>Typhoon</i>
- three of the finest short stories in the English language, work of
- reminiscence, but glowing at its heart with all the lyrical exultation and
- flame of a passion that had been the ruling power of a life that was now
- to be abandoned. That salutation of farewell is in <i>Youth</i> and its
- evocation of the East, in <i>The Heart of Darkness</i> and its evocation
- of the forests that are beyond civilisation, in <i>Typhoon</i> and its
- evocation of the sea. He was never, after <span class="pagenum">18</span><a
- name="link018" id="link018"></a>these tales, to write again of the sea as
- though he were still sailing on it. From this time he belonged, with
- regret, and with some ironic contempt, to the land.
- </p>
- <p>
- This second period closed with the production of a work that was
- deliberately created rather than reminiscent, <i>Nostromo</i>. Conrad may
- have known Dr Monyngham, Decoud, Mrs Could, old Viola; but; they became
- stronger than he and, in their completed personalities, owed no man
- anything for their creation. There is much to be said about <i>Nostromo</i>,
- in many ways the greatest of all Conrad’s works, but, for the moment, one
- would only say that its appearance (it appeared first, of all ironical
- births, in a journal—<i>T.P.‘s Weekly</i>—and astonished and
- bewildered its readers week by week, by its determination not to finish
- and yield place to something simpler) caused no comment whatever, that its
- critics did not understand it, and its author’s own admirers were puzzled
- by its unlikeness to the earlier sea stories.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Nostromo</i> was followed by a pause—one <span class="pagenum">19</span><a
- name="link019" id="link019"></a>can easily imagine that its production
- did, for a moment, utterly exhaust its creator. When, however, in 1907
- appeared <i>The Secret Agent</i>, a new attitude was most plainly visible.
- He was suddenly detached, writing now of “cases” that interested him as an
- investigator of human life, but called from his heart no burning
- participation of experience. He is tender towards Winnie Verloc and her
- old mother, the two women in <i>The Secret Agent</i>, but he studies them
- quite dispassionately. That love that clothed Jim so radiantly, that
- fierce contempt that in <i>An Outcast of the Islands</i> accompanied
- Willems to his degraded death, is gone. We have the finer artist, but we
- have lost something of that earlier compelling interest. <i>The Secret
- Agent</i> is a tale of secret service in London; it contains the
- wonderfully created figure of Verloc and it expresses, to the full,
- Conrad’s hatred of those rows and rows of bricks and mortar that are so
- completely accepted by unimaginative men. In 1911 <i>Under Western Eyes</i>
- spoke strongly of a Russian influence <span class="pagenum">20</span><a
- name="link020" id="link020"></a>Turgéniev and Dostoievsky had too markedly
- their share in the creation of Razumov and the cosmopolitan circle in
- Geneva. Moreover, it is a book whose heart is cold.
- </p>
- <p>
- A volume of short stories, <i>A Set of Six</i>, illustrating still more
- emphatically Conrad’s new detachment, appeared in 1908 and is remarkable
- chiefly for an ironically humorous story of the Napoleonic wars—<i>The
- Duel</i>—a tale too long, perhaps, but admirable for its sustained
- note. In 1912 he seemed, in another volume, <i>‘Twixt Land and Sea</i>, to
- unite some of his earlier glow with all his later mastery of his method.
- <i>A Smile, of Fortune</i> and <i>The Secret Sharer</i> are amazing in the
- beauty of retrospect that they leave behind them in the soul of the
- reader. The sea is once more revealed to us, but it is revealed now as
- something that Conrad has conquered. His contact with the land has taken
- from him something of his earlier intimacy with his old mistress.
- Nevertheless <i>The Secret Sharer</i> is a most marvellous story,
- marvellous in its completeness of theme and treatment, marvellous in the
- <span class="pagenum">21</span><a name="link021" id="link021"></a>contrast
- between the confined limitations of its stage and the vast implications of
- its moral idea. Finally in 1914 appeared <i>Chance</i>, by no means the
- finest of his books, but catching the attention and admiration of that
- wider audience who had remained indifferent to the force and beauty of <i>The
- Nigger of the Narcissus</i>, of <i>Lord Jim</i>, of <i>Nostromo</i>. With
- the popular success of <i>Chance</i> the first period of his work is
- closed. On the possible results of that popularity, their effect on the
- artist and on the whole world of men, one must offer, here at any rate, no
- prophecy.
- </p>
- <h3>
- III
- </h3>
- <p>
- To any reader who cares, seriously, to study the art of Joseph Conrad, no
- better advice could be offered than that he should begin with the reading
- of the two volumes that have been omitted from the preceding list. <i>Some
- Reminiscences</i> and <i>The Mirror of the Sea</i> demand consideration on
- the threshold of any survey of this author’s work, because <span
- class="pagenum">22</span><a name="link022" id="link022"></a>they reveal,
- from a personal, wilful and completely anarchistic angle, the
- individuality that can only be discovered, afterwards, objectively, in the
- process of creation.
- </p>
- <p>
- In both these books Conrad is, quite simply, himself for anyone who cares
- to read. They are books dictated by no sense of precedent nor form nor
- fashion. They are books of their own kind, even more than are the novels.
- <i>Some Reminiscences</i> has only <i>Tristram Shandy</i> for its rival in
- the business of getting everything done without moving a step forward. <i>The
- Mirror of the Sea</i> has no rival at all.
- </p>
- <p>
- We may suppose that the author did really intend to write his
- reminiscences when he began. He found a moment that would make, a good
- starting-point, a moment in the writing of his first book, <i>Almayer’s
- Folly</i>, at the conclusion or, more truly, cessation of <i>Some
- Reminiscences</i>, that moment is still hanging in mid-air, the writing of
- <i>Almayer</i> has not proceeded two lines farther down the stage, the
- maid-servant, is still standing in the doorway, the hands of <span
- class="pagenum">23</span><a name="link023" id="link023"></a>the clock have
- covered five minutes of the dial. What has occurred is simply that the
- fascination of the subject has been too strong. It is of the very essence
- of Conrad’s art that one thing so powerfully suggests to him another that
- to start him on anything at all is a tragedy, because life is so short.
- His reminiscences would be easy enough to command would they only not take
- on a life of their own and shout at their unfortunate author: “Ah! yes.
- I’m interesting, of course, but don’t you remember...?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The whole adventure of writing his first book is crowded with incident,
- not because he considers it a wonderful book or himself a marvellous
- figure, but simply because any incident in the world must, in his eyes, be
- crowded about with other incidents. There is the pen one wrote the book
- with, that pen that belonged to poor old Captain B————
- of the <i>Nonsuch</i> who... or there is the window just behind the
- writing-table that looked out into the river, that river that reminds one
- of the year ‘88 when...
- </p>
- <p>
- In the course of his thrilling voyage of <span class="pagenum">24</span><a
- name="link024" id="link024"></a>discovery we are, by a kind of most
- blessed miracle, told something of Mr Nicholas B. and of the author’s own
- most fascinating uncle. We even, by an extension of the miracle, learn
- something of Conrad as ship’s officer (this the merest glimpse) and as a
- visitor to his uncle’s house in Poland.
- </p>
- <p>
- So by chance are these miraculous facts and glimpses that we catch at them
- with eager, extended hands, praying, imploring them to stay; indeed those
- glimpses may seem to us the more wonderful in that they have been, by us,
- only partially realised.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nevertheless, in spite of its eager incoherence, at the same time both
- breathless, and, by the virtue of its author’s style, solemn, we do
- obtain, in addition to our glimpses of Poland and the sea, one or two
- revelations of Conrad himself. Our revelations come to us partly through
- our impression of his own zest for life, a zest always ironical, often
- sceptical, but always eager and driven by a throbbing impulse of vitality.
- Partly also through certain deliberate utterances. He tells us: <span
- class="pagenum">25</span><a name="link025" id="link025"></a>"Those who
- read me know my conviction that the world, the temporal world, rests on a
- few very simple ideas; so simple that they must be as old as the hills. It
- rests, notably, amongst others, on the idea of Fidelity. At a time when
- nothing which is not revolutionary in some way or other can expect to
- attract much attention I have not been revolutionary in my writings.”
- (Page 20.)
- </p>
- <p>
- Or again:
- </p>
- <p>
- “All claim to special righteousness awakens in me that scorn and anger
- from which a philosophical mind should be free.” (Page 21.)
- </p>
- <p>
- Or again:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Even before the most seductive reveries I have remained mindful of that
- sobriety of interior life, that asceticism of sentiment, in which alone
- the naked form of truth, such as one conceives it, such as one feels it,
- can be rendered without shame.” (Page 194.)
- </p>
- <p>
- This simplicity, this fidelity, this hatred of self-assertion and
- self-satisfaction, this sobriety—these qualities do give some
- implication of the colour of the work that will <span class="pagenum">26</span><a
- name="link026" id="link026"></a>arise from them; and when to these
- qualities we add that before-mentioned zest and vigour we must have some
- true conception of the nature of the work that he was to do.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is for this that <i>Some Reminiscences</i> is valuable. To read it as a
- detached work, to expect from it the amiable facetiousness of a book of
- modern memories or the heavy authoritative coherence of the <i>My
- Autobiography</i> or <i>My Life</i> of some eminent scientist or
- theologian, is to be most grievously disappointed.
- </p>
- <p>
- If the beginning is bewilderment the end is an impression of crowding,
- disordered life, of a tapestry richly dark, with figures woven into the
- very thread of it and yet starting to life with an individuality all their
- own. No book reveals more clearly the reasons both of Conrad’s faults and
- of his merits. No book of his is more likely by reason of its honesty and
- simplicity to win him true friends. As a work of art there is almost
- everything to be said against it, except that it has that supreme gift
- that remains, at the end, almost all that we ask of any work of <span
- class="pagenum">27</span><a name="link027" id="link027"></a>art,
- overwhelming vitality. But it is formless, ragged, incoherent,
- inconclusive, a fragment of eager, vivid, turbulent reminiscence poured
- into a friend’s ear in a moment of sudden confidence. That may or may not
- be the best way to conduct reminiscences; the book remains a supremely
- intimate, engaging and enlightening introduction to its author.
- </p>
- <p>
- With <i>The Mirror of the Sea</i> we are on very different ground. As I
- have already said, this is Conrad’s happiest book—indeed, with the
- possible exception of <i>The Nigger of the Narcissus</i>, his only happy
- book. He is happy because he is able, for a moment, to forget his
- distrust, his dread, his inherent ironical pessimism. He is here
- permitting himself the whole range of his enthusiasm and admiration, and
- behind that enthusiasm there is a quiet, sure confidence that is strangely
- at variance with the distrust of his later novels.
- </p>
- <p>
- The book seems at first sight to be a collection of almost haphazard
- papers, with such titles as <i>Landfalls and Departures</i>, <span
- class="pagenum">28</span><a name="link028" id="link028"></a><i>Overdue and
- Missing, Rulers of East and West, The Nursery of the Craft</i>. No reader
- however, can conclude it without having conveyed to him a strangely
- binding impression of Unity. He has been led, it will seem to him, mto the
- very heart of the company of those who know the Sea as she really is, he
- has been made free of a great order.
- </p>
- <p>
- The foundation of his intimacy springs from three sources—the
- majesty, power and cruelty of the Sea herself, the homely reality of the
- lives of the men who serve her, the vibrating, beautiful life of the ships
- that sail upon her. This is the Trilogy that holds in its hands the whole
- life and pageant of the sea; it is because Conrad holds all three elements
- in exact and perfect balance that this book has its unique value, its
- power both of realism, for this is the life of man, and of romance, which
- is the life of the sea.
- </p>
- <p>
- Conrad’s attitude to the Sea herself, in this book, is one of lyrical and
- passionate worship. He sees, with all the vivid accuracy of his realism,
- her deceits, her <span class="pagenum">29</span><a name="link029" id="link029"></a>cruelties, her inhuman disregard of the lives of men,
- but, finally, her glory is enough for him. He will write of her like this:
- </p>
- <p>
- “The sea—this truth must be confessed—has no generosity. No
- display of manly qualities—courage, hardihood, endurance,
- faithfulness—has ever been known to touch its irresponsible
- consciousness of power. The ocean has the conscienceless temper of a
- savage autocrat spoiled by much adulation. He cannot brook the slightest
- appearance of defiance, and has remained the irreconcilable enemy of ships
- and men ever since ships and men had the unheard-of audacity to go afloat
- together in the face of his frown... the most amazing wonder of the deep
- is its unfathomable cruelty.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Nevertheless she holds him her most willing slave and he is that because
- he believes that she alone in all the world is worthy to indulge this
- cruelty. She positively “brings it off,” this assertion of her right, and
- once he is assured of that, he will yield absolute obedience. In this
- worship of the Sea and the winds that rouse her he allows himself a <span
- class="pagenum">30</span><a name="link030" id="link030"></a>lyrical
- freedom that he was afterwards to check. He was never again, not even in
- <i>Typhoon</i> and <i>Youth</i>, to write with such free and spontaneous
- lyricism as in his famous passage about the “West Wind.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>The Mirror of the Sea</i> forms then the best possible introduction to
- Conrad’s work, because it attests, more magnificently and more confidently
- than anything else that he has written, his faith and his devotion. It
- presents also, however, in its treatment of the second element of his
- subject, the men on the ships, many early sketches of the characters whom
- he, both before and afterwards, developed so fully in his novels. About
- these same men there are certain characteristics to be noticed,
- characteristics that must be treated more fully in a later analysis of
- Conrad’s creative power, but that nevertheless demand some mention here as
- witnesses of the emotions, the humours, the passions that he, most
- naturally, observes. It is, in the first place, to be marked that almost
- all the men upon the sea, from “poor Captain B————,
- who used <span class="pagenum">31</span><a name="link031" id="link031"></a>to
- suffer from sick headaches, in his young days, every time he was
- approaching a coast,” to the dramatic Dominic (“from the slow,
- imperturbable gravity of that broad-chested man you would think he had
- never smiled in his life”), are silent and thoughtful. Granted this
- silence, Conrad in his half-mournful, half-humorous survey, is instantly
- attracted by any possible contrast. Captain B———- dying
- in his home, with two grave, elderly women sitting beside him in the quiet
- room, “his eyes resting fondly upon the faces in the room, upon the
- pictures on the wall, upon all the familiar objects of that home whose
- abiding and clear image must have flashed often on his memory in times of
- stress and anxiety at sea”—“poor P————,”
- with “his cheery temper, his admiration for the jokes in <i>Punch</i>, his
- little oddities—like his strange passion for borrowing
- looking-glasses, for instance”—that captain who “did everything with
- an air which put your attention on the alert and raised your expectations,
- but the result somehow was always on stereotyped <span class="pagenum">32</span><a
- name="link032" id="link032"></a>lines, unsuggestive, empty of any lesson
- that one could lay to heart”—that other captain in whom “through a
- touch of self-seeking that modest artist of solid merit became untrue to
- his temperament”—here are little sketches for those portraits that
- afterwards we are to know so well, Marlowe, Captain M’Whirr, Captain
- Lingard, Captain Mitchell and many others. Here we may fancy that his eye
- lingers as though in the mere enumeration of little oddities and
- contrasted qualities he sees such themes, such subjects, such “cases” that
- it is hard, almost beyond discipline, to leave them. Nevertheless they
- have to be left. He has obtained his broader contrast by his juxtaposition
- of the curious muddled jumble of the human life against the broad, august
- power of the Sea—that is all that his present subject demands, that
- is his theme and his picture.
- </p>
- <p>
- Not all his theme, however; there remains the third element in it, the
- soul of the ship. It is, perhaps, after all, with the life of the ship
- that <i>The Mirror of The Sea</i>, ultimately, has most to do. <span
- class="pagenum">33</span><a name="link033" id="link033"></a>As other men
- write of the woman they have loved, so does Conrad write of his ships. He
- sees them, in this book that is so especially dedicated to their pride and
- beauty, coloured with a fine glow of romance, but nevertheless he realises
- them with all the accurate detail of a technician who describes his craft.
- You may learn of the raising and letting go of an anchor, and he will tell
- the journalists of their crime in speaking of “casting” an anchor when the
- true technicality is “brought up”—“to an anchor” understood. In the
- chapter on “Yachts” he provides as much technical detail as any book of
- instruction need demand and then suddenly there come these sentences—“the
- art of handling slips is finer, perhaps, than the art of handling men.”...
- “A ship is a creature which we have brought into the world, as it were on
- purpose to keep us up to mark.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Indeed it is the ship that gives that final impression of unity, of which
- I have already spoken, to the book. She grows, as it were, from her birth,
- in no ordered sequence of <span class="pagenum">34</span><a name="link034" id="link034"></a>events, but admitting us ever more closely into her
- intimacy, telling us, at first shyly, afterwards more boldly, little
- things about herself, confiding to us her trials, appealing sometimes to
- our admiration, indulging sometimes our humour. Conrad is tender to her as
- he is to nothing human. He watches her shy, new, in the dock, “her
- reputation all to make yet in the talk of the seamen who were to share
- their life with her.”... “She looked modest to me. I imagined her
- diffident, lying very quiet, with her side nestling shyly against the
- wharf to which she was made fast with very new lines, intimidated by the
- company of her tried and experienced bisters already familiar with all the
- violences of the ocean and the exacting love of men.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her friend stands there on the quay and bids her be of good courage; he
- salutes her grace and spirit—he echoes, with all the implied irony
- of contrast, his companion’s “Ships are all right....”
- </p>
- <p>
- He explains the many kinds of ships that there are—the rogues, the
- wickedly malicious, <span class="pagenum">35</span><a name="link035" id="link035"></a>the sly, the benevolent, the proud, the adventurous, the
- staid, the decorous. For even the worst of these he has indulgences that
- he would never offer to the soul of man. He cannot be severe before such a
- world of fine spirits.
- </p>
- <p>
- Finally, in the episode of the <i>Tremolino</i> and her tragic end (an end
- that has in it a suggestion of that later story, <i>Freya of the Seven
- Inlands</i>), in that sinister adventure of Dominic and the vile Caesar,
- he shows us, in miniature, what it is that he intends to do with all this
- material. He gives us the soul of the <i>Tremolino</i>, the soul of
- Dominic, the soul of the sea upon which they are voyaging. Without ever
- deserting the realism upon which he builds his foundations he raises upon
- it his house of romance.
- </p>
- <p>
- This book remains by far the easiest, the kindest, the most friendly of
- all his books. He has been troubled here by no questions of form, of
- creation, of development, whether of character or of incident.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is the best of all possible prologues to his more creative work.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- II—THE NOVELIST
- </h2>
- <h3>
- I
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>N <span
- class="pagenum">36</span><a name="link036" id="link036"></a>discussing the
- art of any novelist as distinct from the poet or essayist there are three
- special questions that we may ask—as to the Theme, as to the Form,
- as to the creation of Character.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is possible to discuss these three questions in terms that can be
- applied, in no fashion whatever, to the poem or the essay, although the
- novel may often more truly belong to the essay or the poem to the novel,
- as, for instance, <i>The Ring and the Book</i> and <i>Aurora Leigh</i>
- bear witness. All such questions of ultimate classes and divisions are
- vain, but these three divisions of Theme, Form and Character do cover many
- of the questions that are to be asked about any novelist simply in his
- position as novelist <span class="pagenum">37</span><a name="link037" id="link037"></a>and nothing else. That Joseph Conrad is, in his art, most
- truly poet as well as novelist no reader of his work will deny. I wish, in
- this chapter, to consider him simply as a novelist—that is, as a
- narrator of the histories of certain human beings, with his attitude to
- those histories.
- </p>
- <p>
- Concerning the form of the novel the English novelists, until the
- seventies and eighties of the nineteenth century, worried themselves but
- slightly. If they considered the matter they chuckled over their
- deliberate freedom, as did Sterne and Fielding. Scott considered
- story-telling a jolly business in which one was, also, happily able to
- make a fine living, but he never contemplated the matter with any respect.
- Jane Austen, who had as much form as any modern novelist, was quite
- unaware of her happy possession. The mid-Victorians gloriously abandoned
- themselves to the rich independence of shilling numbers, a fashion which
- forbade Form as completely as the manners of the time forbade frankness. A
- new period began at the end of the fifties; <span class="pagenum">38</span><a
- name="link038" id="link038"></a>but no one in 1861 was aware that a novel
- called <i>Evan Harrington</i> was of any special importance; it made no
- more stir than did <i>Almayer’s Folly</i> in the early nineties, although
- the wonderful <i>Richard Feverel</i> had already preceded it.
- </p>
- <p>
- With the coming of George Meredith and Thomas Hardy the Form of the novel,
- springing straight from the shores of France, where <i>Madame Bovary</i>
- and <i>Une Vie</i> showed what might be done by taking trouble, grew into
- a question of considerable import. Robert Louis Stevenson showed how
- important it was to say things agreeably, even when you had not very much
- to say. Henry James showed that there was so much to say about everything
- that you could not possibly get to the end of it, and Rudyard Kipling
- showed that the great thing was to see things as they were. At the
- beginning of the nineties everyone was immensely busied over the way that
- things were done. <i>The Yellow Book</i> sprang into a bright existence,
- flamed, and died. “Art for Art’s sake” was slain by the trial of Oscar
- Wilde in 1895.
- </p>
- <p>
- <span class="pagenum">39</span><a name="link039" id="link039"></a>Mr
- Wells, in addition to fantastic romances, wrote stories about shop
- assistants and knew something about biology. The Fabian Society made
- socialism entertaining. Mr Bernard Shaw foreshadowed a new period and the
- Boer War completed an old one.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of the whole question of Conrad’s place in the history of the English
- novel and his influence upon it I wish to speak in a later chapter. I
- would simply say here that if he was borne in upon the wind of the French
- influence he was himself, in later years, one of the chief agents in its
- destruction, but, beginning to write in English as he did in the time of
- <i>The Yellow Book</i>, passing through all the realistic reaction that
- followed the collapse of aestheticism, seeing the old period washed away
- by the storm of the Boer War, he had, especially prepared for him, a new
- stage upon which to labour. The time and the season were ideal for the
- work that he had to do.
- </p>
- <h3>
- II
- </h3>
- <p>
- <span class="pagenum">40</span><a name="link040" id="link040"></a>The form
- in which Conrad has chosen to develop his narratives is the question which
- must always come first in any consideration of him as a novelist; the
- question of his form is the ground upon which he has been most frequently
- attacked.
- </p>
- <p>
- His difficulties in this matter have all arisen, as I have already
- suggested, from his absorbing interest in life. Let us imagine, for an
- instant, an imaginary case. He has teen in some foreign port a quarrel
- between two seamen. One has “knifed” the other, and the quarrel has been
- watched, with complete indifference, by a young girl and a bibulous old
- wastrel who is obviously a relation both of hers and of the stricken
- seaman. The author sees here a case for his art and, wishing to give us
- the matter with the greatest possible truth and accuracy, he begins, <i>oratio
- recta</i>, by the narration of a little barber whose shop is just over the
- spot where the quarrel took place and whose lodgers the old man and the
- girl are. He <span class="pagenum">41</span><a name="link041" id="link041"></a>describes
- the little barber and is, at once, amazed by the interesting facts that he
- discovers about the man. Seen standing in his doorway he is the most
- ordinary little figure, but once investigate his case and you find a
- strange contrast between his melancholy romanticism and the flashing
- fanaticism of his love for the young girl who lodges with him. That leads
- one back, through many years, to the moment of his first meeting with the
- bibulous old man, and for a witness of that wo must hunt out a villainous
- old woman who keeps a drinking saloon in another part of the town. This
- old woman, now so drink-sodden and degraded, had once a history of her
- own. Once she was...
- </p>
- <p>
- And so the matter continues. It is not so much a deliberate evocation of
- the most difficult of methods, this maimer of narration, as a poignant
- witness to Conrad’s own breathless surprise at his discoveries. Mr Henry
- James, speaking of this enforced collection of oratorical witnesses, says:
- “It places Mr Conrad absolutely alone as a <span class="pagenum">42</span><a
- name="link042" id="link042"></a>votary of the way to do a thing that shall
- make it undergo most doing,” and his amazement at Conrad’s patient pursuit
- of unneeded difficulties may seem to us the stranger if we consider that
- in <i>What Maisie Knew</i> and <i>The Awkward Age</i> he has practised
- almost precisely the same form himself. Indeed beside the intricate but
- masterly form of <i>The Awkward Age</i> the duplicate narration of <i>Chance</i>
- seems child’s play. Mr Henry James makes the mistake of speaking as though
- Conrad had quite deliberately chosen the form of narration that was most
- difficult to him, simply for the fun of overcoming the difficulties, the
- truth being that he has chosen the easiest, the form of narration brought
- straight from the sea and the ships that he adored, the form of narration
- used by the Ancient Mariner and all the seamen before and alter him.
- Conrad must have his direct narrator, because that is the way in which
- stories in the past had generally come to him. He wishes to deny the
- effect of that direct and simple honesty that had always seemed so
- attractive to <span class="pagenum">43</span><a name="link043" id="link043"></a>him.
- He must have it by word of mouth, because it is by word of mouth that he
- himself has always demanded it, and if one witness is not enough for the
- truth of it then must he have two or three.
- </p>
- <p>
- Consider for a moment the form of three of his most important novels: <i>Lord
- Jim, Nostromo</i> and <i>Chance</i>. It is possible that <i>Lord Jim</i>
- was conceived originally as a sketch of character, derived by the author
- from one scene that was, in all probability, an actual reminiscence.
- Certainly, when the book is finished, one scene beyond all others remains
- with the reader; the scene of the inquiry into the loss of the <i>Patna</i>,
- or rather the vision of Jim and his appalling companions waiting outside
- for the inquiry to begin. Simply in the contemplation of these four men
- Conrad has his desired contrast; the skipper of the <i>Patna</i>: “He made
- me think of a trained baby elephant walking on hind-legs. He was
- extravagantly gorgeous too—got up in a. soiled sleeping-suit, bright
- green and deep orange vertical stripes, with a pair of ragged straw
- slippers <span class="pagenum">44</span><a name="link044" id="link044"></a>on
- his bare feet, and somebody’s cast-off pith hat, very dirty and two sizes
- too small for him, tied up with a manilla rope-yarn on the top of his big
- head.” There are also two other “no-account chaps with him”—a sallow
- faced mean little chap with his arm in a sling, and a long individual in a
- blue flannel coat, as dry as a chip and no stouter than a broomstick, with
- drooping grey moustaches, who looked about him with an air of jaunty
- imbecility, and, with these three, Jim, “clean-limbed, clean-faced, firm
- on his feet, as promising a boy as the sun ever shone on.” Here are these
- four, in the same box, condemned for ever by all right-thinking men. That
- boy in the same box as those obscene scoundrels! At once the artist has
- fastened on to his subject, it bristles with active, vital possibilities
- and discoveries. We, the observers, share the artist’s thrill. We watch
- our author dart upon a subject with the excitement of adventurers
- discovering a gold mine. How much will it yield? How deep will it go? We
- are thrilled with the suspense. <span class="pagenum">45</span><a
- name="link045" id="link045"></a>Conrad, having discovered his subject,
- must, for the satisfaction of that honour which is his most deeply
- cherished virtue, prove to us his authenticity. “I was not there myself,”
- he tells us, “but I can show you someone who was.” He introduces us to a
- first-hand witness, Marlowe or another. “Now tell your story.” He has at
- once the atmosphere in which he is happiest, and so, having his audience
- clustered about him, unlimited time at everyone’s disposal, whiskies and
- cigars without stint, he lets himself go. He is bothered now by no
- question but the thorough investigation of his discovery. What had Jim
- done that he should be in such a case? We must have the story of the loss
- of the <i>Patna</i>, that marvellous journey across the waters, all the
- world of the pilgrims, the obscene captain and Jim’s fine, chivalrous
- soul. Marlowe is inexhaustible. He has so much to say and so many fine
- words in which to say it. At present, so absorbed are we, so successful is
- he, that we are completely held. The illusion is perfect. We come to the
- inquiry. <span class="pagenum">46</span><a name="link046" id="link046"></a>One
- of the judges is Captain Brierley. “What! not know Captain Brierley! Ah!
- but I must tell you! Most extraordinary thing!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The world grows around us; a world that can contain the captain of the <i>Patna</i>,
- Brierley and Jim at the same time! The subject before us seems now so rich
- that we are expecting to see it burst, at any moment, in the author’s
- hands, but so long as that first visualised scene is the centre of the
- episode, so long as the experience hovers round that inquiry and the
- Esplanade outside it, we are held, breathless and believing. We believe
- even in the eloquent Marlowe. Then the moment passes. Every possible probe
- into its heart has been made. We are satisfied.
- </p>
- <p>
- There follows then the sequel, and here at once the weakness of the method
- is apparent. The author having created his narrator must continue with
- him. Marlowe is there, untired, eager, waiting to begin again. But the
- trouble is that we are do longer assured now of the truth and <span
- class="pagenum">47</span><a name="link047" id="link047"></a>reality of his
- story. He saw—we cannot for an instant doubt it—that group on
- the Esplanade; all that he could tell us about that we, breathlessly,
- awaited. But now we are uncertain whether he is not inventing a romantic
- sequel. He must go on—that is the truly terrible thing about Marlowe—and
- at the moment when we question his authenticity we are suspicious of his
- very existence, ready to be irritated by his flow of words demanding
- something more authentic than that voice that is now only dimly heard. The
- author himself perhaps feels this; he duplicates, he even trebles his
- narrators and with each fresh agent raises a fresh crop of facts,
- contrasts, halts and histories. That then is the peril of the method.
- Whilst we believe we are completely held, but let the authenticity waver
- for a moment and the danger of disaster is more excessive than with any
- other possible form of narration. Create your authority and we have at
- once someone at whom we may throw stones if we are not beguiled, Marlowe
- has certainly been compelled to <span class="pagenum">48</span><a
- name="link048" id="link048"></a>face, at moments in his career, an angry,
- irritated audience.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Nostromo</i> is, for the reason that we never lose our confidence in
- the narrator, a triumphant vindication of these methods. That is not to
- deny that <i>Nostromo</i> is extremely contused in places, but it is a
- confusion that arises rather from Conrad’s confidence in the reader’s
- fore-knowledge of the facts than in a complication of narrations. The
- narrations are sometimes complicated—old Captain Mitchell does not
- always achieve authenticity—but on the whole, the reader may be said
- to be puzzled, simply because he is told so much about some things and so
- little about others.
- </p>
- <p>
- But this assurance of the author’s that we must have already learnt the
- main facts of the case comes from his own convinced sense of the reality
- of it. This time he has no Marlowe. He was there himself. “Of course,” he
- says to us, “you know all about that revolution in Sulaco, that revolution
- that the Goulds were mixed up with. Well, I happened to be there myself. I
- know all <span class="pagenum">49</span><a name="link049" id="link049"></a>the
- people concerned, and the central figure was not Gould, nor Mitchell, nor
- Monyngham—no, it was a man about whom no one outside the republic
- was told a syllable. I knew the man well.... He.. and there we all are.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The method is, in this case, as I have already said, completely
- successful. There may be confusions, there may be scenes concerning which
- we may be expected to be told much and are, in truth, told nothing at all,
- but these confusions and omissions do, in the end, only add to our
- conviction of the veracity of it. No one, after a faithful perusal of <i>Nostromo</i>,
- can possibly doubt of the existence of Sulaco, of the silver mine, of
- Nostromo and Decoud, of Mrs Gould, Antonio, the Viola girls, of old Viola,
- Hirsch, Monyngham, Gould, Sotillo, of the death of Viola’s wife, of the
- expedition at night in the painter, of Decoud alone on the Isabels, of
- Hirsch’s torture, of Captain Mitchell’s watch—here are characters
- the most romantic in the world, scenes that would surely, in any other
- hands, be fantastic <span class="pagenum">50</span><a name="link050" id="link050"></a>melodrama, and both characters and scenes are absolutely
- supported on the foundation of realistic truth. Not for a moment from the
- first page to the last do we consciously doubt the author’s word.... Here
- the form of narration is vindicated because it is entirely convincing.
- </p>
- <p>
- Not so with the third example, <i>Chance</i>. Here, as with <i>Lord Jim</i>,
- we may find one, visualised moment that stands for the whole book and as
- in the earlier work we look back and see the degraded officers of the <i>Patna</i>
- waiting with Jim on the Esplanade, so our glance back over <i>Chance</i>
- reveals to us that moment when the Fynes, from the security of their
- comfortable home, watch Flora de Barrel flying down the steps of her
- horrible Brighton house as though the Furies pursued her. That desperate
- flight is the key of the book. The moment of the chivalrous Captain
- Anthony’s rescue of Flora from a world too villainous for her and too
- double-faced for him gives the book’s theme, and never in all the stories
- that preceded Flora’s has Conrad been so <span class="pagenum">51</span><a
- name="link051" id="link051"></a>eager to afford us first-hand witnesses.
- We have, in the first place, the unquenchable Marlowe sitting, with fine
- phrases at his lips, in a riverside inn. To him enter Powell, who once
- served with Captain Anthony; to these two add the little Fynes; there
- surely you have enough to secure your alliance. But it is precisely the
- number of witnesses that frightens us. Marlowe, unaided, would have been
- enough for us, more than enough if we are to consider the author himself
- as a possible narrator. But not only does the number frighten us, it
- positively hides from us the figures of Captain Anthony and Flora de
- Barrel. Both the Knight and the Maiden—as the author names them—are
- retiring souls, and our hearts move in sympathy fin them as we contemplate
- their timid hesitancy before the voluble inquisitions of Marlowe, young
- Powell and the Fynes. Moreover, the intention of this method that it
- should secure realistic conviction for the most romantic episodes does not
- here achieve its purpose, as we have seen that it did in the first half of
- <span class="pagenum">52</span><a name="link052" id="link052"></a><i>Lord
- Jim</i> and the whole of <i>Nostromo</i>. We believe most emphatically in
- that first narration of young Powell’s about his first chance. We believe
- in the first narration of Marlowe, although quite casually he talks like
- this: “I do not even think that there was in what he did a conscious and
- lofty confidence in himself, a particularly pronounced sense of power
- which leads men so often into impossible or equivocal situations.” We
- believe in the horrible governess (a fiercely drawn figure). We believe in
- Marlowe’s interview with Flora on the pavement outside Anthony’s room.
- </p>
- <p>
- We believe in the whole of the first half of the book, but even here we
- are conscious that we would prefer to be closer to the whole thing, that
- it would be pleasant to hear Flora and Anthony speak for themselves, that
- we resent, a little, Marlowe’s intimacy which prevents, with patronising
- complaisance, the intimacy that we, the readers, might have seemed.
- Nevertheless we are so far held, we are captured.
- </p>
- <p>
- But when the second half of the book <span class="pagenum">53</span><a
- name="link053" id="link053"></a>arrives we can be confident no longer.
- Here, as in <i>Lord Jim</i>, it is possible to feel that Conrad, having
- surprised, seized upon, mastered his original moment, did not know how to
- continue it. The true thing in <i>Lord Jim</i> is the affair of the <i>Patna</i>;
- the true thing in <i>Chance</i> is Captain Anthony’s rescue of Flora after
- her disaster. But whereas in <i>Lord Jim</i> the sequel to Jim’s cowardice
- has its own fine qualities of beauty and imagination, the sequel to
- Captain Anthony’s rescue of Flora seems to one listener at any rate a
- pitiably unconvincing climax of huddled melodrama. That chapter in <i>Chance</i>
- entitled <i>A Moonless Night</i> is, in the first half of it, surely the
- worst thing that Conrad ever wrote, save only that one early short story,
- <i>The Return</i>. The conclusion of <i>Chance</i> and certain tales in
- his volume, <i>Within the Tides</i>, make one wonder whether that alliance
- between romance and realism that he has hitherto so wonderfully maintained
- is not breaking down before the baleful strength of the former of these
- two qualities.
- </p>
- <p>
- <span class="pagenum">54</span><a name="link054" id="link054"></a>It
- remains only to be said that when credence so entirely fails, as it must
- before the end of <i>Chance</i>, the form of narration in <i>Oratio Recta</i>
- is nothing less than maddening. Suddenly we do not believe in Marlowe, in
- Powell, in the Fynes: we do not believe even in Anthony and Flora. We are
- the angrier because earlier in the evening we were so completely taken in.
- It is as though we had given our money to a deserving cause and discovered
- a charlatan.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have described at length the form in which the themes of these books are
- developed, because it is the form that, here extensively, here quite
- unobtrusively, clothes all the novels and tales. We are caught and held by
- the skinny finger of the Ancient Mariner. When he has a true tale to tell
- us his veritable presence is an added zest to our pleasure. But, if his
- presence be not true...
- </p>
- <h3>
- III
- </h3>
- <p>
- If we turn to the themes that engage Joseph Conrad’s attention we shall
- see that <span class="pagenum">55</span><a name="link055" id="link055"></a>in
- almost every case his subjects are concerned with unequal combats—unequal
- to his own far-seeing vision, but never to the human souls engaged in
- them, and it is this consciousness of the blindness that renders men’s
- honesty and heroism of so little account that gives occasion for his
- irony.
- </p>
- <p>
- He chooses, in almost every case, the most solid and unimaginative of
- human beings for his heroes, and it seems that it is these men alone whom
- he can admire. “If a human soul has vision he simply gives the thing up,”
- we can hear him say. “He can see at once that the odds are too strong for
- him. But these simple souls, with their consciousness of the job before
- them and nothing else, with their placid sense of honour and of duty, upon
- them you may loosen all heaven’s bolts and lightnings and they will not
- quail.” They command his pity, his reverence, his tenderness, almost his
- love. But at the end, with an ironic shrug of his shoulders, he says: “You
- see. I told you so. He may even think he has won. We know better, you and
- I.” <span class="pagenum">56</span><a name="link056" id="link056"></a>The
- theme of <i>Almayer’s Folly</i> is a struggle of a weak man against
- nature, of <i>The Nigger of the Narcissus</i> the struggle of many simple
- men against the presence of death, of <i>Lord Jim</i>, again, the struggle
- of a simple man against nature (here the man wins, but only, we feel, at
- the cost of truth). <i>Nostromo</i>, the conquest of a child of nature by
- the silver mine which stands over him, conscious of its ultimate victory,
- from the very first. <i>Chance</i>, the struggle of an absolutely simple
- and upright soul against the dishonesties of a world that he does not
- understand. <i>Typhoon</i>, the very epitome of Conrad’s themes, is the
- struggle of M’Whirr against the storm (here again it is M’Whirr who
- apparently wins, but we can hear, in the very last line of the book, the
- storm’s confident chuckle of ultimate victory). In <i>Heart of Darkness</i>
- the victory is to the forest. In <i>The End of the Tether</i> Captain
- Whalley, one of Conrad’s finest figures, is beaten by the very loftiness
- of his character. The three tales in <i>‘Twixt Land, and Sea</i> are all
- themes of this kind—the struggle of simple, <span class="pagenum">57</span><a
- name="link057" id="link057"></a>unimaginative men against forces too
- strong for them. In <i>The Secret Agent</i> Winnie Verloc, another simple
- character, finds life too much for her and commits suicide. In <i>Under
- Western Eyes</i> Razumov, the dreamer, is destroyed by a world that laughs
- at the pains and struggles of insignificant individuals.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of Conrad’s philosophy I must speak in another place: here it is enough to
- say that it is impossible to imagine him choosing as the character of a
- story jolly, independent souls who take life for what it gives them and
- leave defeat or victory to the stars.
- </p>
- <p>
- Whatever Conrad’s books are or are not, it may safely be said that they
- are never jolly, and his most devoted disciple would, in all probability,
- resent any suggestion of a lighter hand or a gentler affection, his art,
- nevertheless, is limited by this persistent brooding over the inequality
- of life’s battle. His humour, often of a very fine kind, is always
- sinister, because his choice of theme forbids light-heartedness.
- </p>
- <p>
- Tom Jones and Tristram Shandy would <span class="pagenum">58</span><a
- name="link058" id="link058"></a>have found Marlowe, Jim and Captain
- Anthony quite impossibly solemn company—but I do not deny that they
- might not have been something the better for a little of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have already said that his characters are, for the most part, simple and
- unimaginative men, but that does not mean that they are so simple that
- there is nothing in them. The first thing of which one is sure in meeting
- a number of Conrad’s characters is that they have existences and histories
- entirely independent of their introducer’s kind offices. Conrad has met
- them, has talked to them, has come to know them, but we are sure not only
- that there is very much more that he could tell us about them if he had
- time and space, but that even when he had told us all that he knew he
- would only have touched on the fringe of their real histories.
- </p>
- <p>
- One of the distinctions between the modern English novel and the
- mid-Victorian English novel is that modern characters have but little of
- the robust vitality of their <span class="pagenum">59</span><a
- name="link059" id="link059"></a>predecessors; the figures in the novel of
- to-day fade so easily from the page that endeavours to keep them.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the novels of Mr Henry James we feel at times that the characters fade
- before the motives attributed to them, in those of Mr Wells before an
- idea, a curse, or a remedy, in those of Mr Bennett before a creeping
- wilderness of important insignificances, in those of Mr Galsworthy before
- the oppression of social inequalities, in those of Mrs Wharton before the
- shadow of Mr Henry James, even in those of Mr Hardy before the omnipotence
- of an inevitable God whom, in spite of his inevitability, Mr Hardy himself
- is arranging in the background; it may be claimed for the characters of Mr
- Conrad that they yield their solidity to no force, no power, not even to
- their author’s own determination that they are doomed, in the end, to
- defeat.
- </p>
- <p>
- This is not for a moment to say that Joseph Conrad is a finer novelist
- than these others, but this quality he has beyond his contemporaries—namely,
- the assurance that <span class="pagenum">60</span><a name="link060" id="link060"></a>his characters have their lives and adventures both
- before and after the especial cases that he is describing to us.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Russian Tchekov has, in his plays, this gift supremely, so that at the
- close of <i>The Three Sisters</i> or <i>The Cherry Orchard</i> we are left
- speculating deeply upon “what happened afterwards” to Gayef or Barbara, to
- Masha or Epikhadov; with Conrad’s sea captains as with Tchekov’s Russians
- we see at once that they are entirely independent of the incidents that we
- are told about them. This independence springs partly from the author’s
- eager, almost naïve curiosity. It is impossible for him to introduce us to
- any officer on his ship without whispering to us in an aside details about
- his life, his wife and family on shore. By so doing he forges an extra
- link in his chain of circumstantial evidence, but we do not feel that here
- he is deliberately serving his art—it is only that quality already
- mentioned, his own astonished delight at the things that he is
- discovering. We learn, for instance, about Captain M’Whirr that he wrote
- long letters home, <span class="pagenum">61</span><a name="link061" id="link061"></a>beginning always with the words, “My darling Wife,” and
- relating in minute detail each successive trip of the <i>Nan-Shan</i>. Mrs
- M’Whirr, we learn, was “a pretentious person with a scraggy neck and a
- disdainful manner, admittedly lady-like and in the neighbourhood
- considered as ‘quite superior.’ The only secret of her life was her abject
- terror of the time when her husband would come home to stay for good.”
- Also in <i>Typhoon</i> there is the second mate “who never wrote any
- letters, did not seem to hope for news from anywhere; and though he had
- been heard once to mention West Hartlepool, it was with extreme
- bitterness, and only in connection with the extortionate charges of a
- boarding-house.” How conscious we are of Jim’s English country parsonage,
- of Captain Anthony’s loneliness, of Marlowe’s isolation. By this simple
- thread of connection between the land and the ship the whole character
- stands, human and convincing, before us. Of the sailors on board the <i>Narcissus</i>
- there is not one about whom, after his landing, <span class="pagenum">62</span><a
- name="link062" id="link062"></a>we are not curious. There is the skipper,
- whose wife comes on board, “A real lady, in a black dress and with a
- parasol.”... “Very soon the captain, dressed very smartly and in a white
- shirt, went with her over the side. We didn’t recognise him at all....”
- And Mr Baker, the chief mate! Is not this little farewell enough to make
- us his friends for life?
- </p>
- <p>
- “No one waited for him ashore. Mother died; father and two brothers,
- Yarmouth fishermen, drowned together on the Dogger Bank; sister married
- and unfriendly. Quite a lady, married to the leading tailor of a little
- town, and its leading politician, who did not think his sailor brother
- in-law quite respectable enough for him. Quite a lady, quite a lady, he
- thought, sitting down for a moment’s rest on the quarter-hatch. Time
- enough to go ashore and get a bite, and sup, and a bed somewhere. He
- didn’t like to part with a ship. No one to think about then. The darkness
- of a misty evening fell, cold and damp, upon the deserted deck; and Mr
- Baker sat smoking, thinking of all the successive ships to whom through
- many <span class="pagenum">63</span><a name="link063" id="link063"></a>long
- years he had given the best of a seaman’s care. And never a command in
- sight. Not once!”
- </p>
- <p>
- There are others—the abominable Donkin for instance. “Donkin
- entered. They discussed the account... Captain Allistoun said. ‘I give you
- a bad discharge,’ he said quietly. Donkin raised his voice: ‘I don’t want
- your bloomin’ discharge—keep it. I’m goin’ ter ‘ave a job hashore.’
- He turned to us. ‘No more bloomin’ sea for me,’ he said, aloud. All looked
- at him. He had better clothes, had an easy air, appeared more at home than
- any of us; he stared with assurance, enjoying the effect of his
- declaration.”
- </p>
- <p>
- In how many novels would Donkin’s life have been limited by the part that
- he was required to play in the adventures of the <i>Narcissus?</i> As it
- is our interest in his progress has been satisfied by a prologue only. Or
- there is Charley, the boy of the crew—“As I came up I saw a
- red-faced, blowzy woman, in a grey shawl, and with dusty, <span
- class="pagenum">64</span><a name="link064" id="link064"></a>fluffy hair,
- fall on Charley’s neck. It was his mother. She slobbered over him:—‘Oh,
- my boy! my boy!’—‘Leggo me,’ said Charley, ‘leggo, mother!’ I was
- passing him at the time, and over the untidy head of the blubbering woman
- he gave me a humorous smile and a glance ironic, courageous, and profound,
- that seemed to put all my knowledge of life to shame. I nodded and passed
- on, but heard him say again, good-naturedly:—‘If you leggo of me
- this minyt—ye shall ‘ave a bob for a drink out of my pay.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- But one passes from these men of the sea—from M’Whirr and Baker,
- from Lingard and Captain Whalley, from Captain Anthony and Jim, with a
- suspicion that the author will not convince us quite so readily with his
- men of the land—and that suspicion is never entirely dismissed.
- About such men as M’Whirr and Baker he can tell us nothing that we will
- not believe. He has such sympathy and understanding for them that they
- will, we are assured, deliver up to him their dearest secrets—those
- little details, <span class="pagenum">65</span><a name="link065" id="link065"></a>M’Whirr’s wife, Mr Baker’s proud sister, Charley’s
- mother, are their dearest secrets. But with the citizens of the other
- world—with Stein, Decoud, Gould, Verloc, Razumov, the sinister
- Nikita, the little Fynes, even the great Nostromo himself—we cannot
- be so confident, simply because their discoverer cannot yield them that
- same perfect sympathy.
- </p>
- <p>
- His theory about these men is that they have, all of them, an <i>idée fixe</i>,
- that you must search for this patiently, honestly, unsparingly—having
- found it, the soul of the man is revealed to you. But is it? Is it not
- possible that Decoud or Verloc, feeling the probing finger, offer up
- instantly any <i>idée fixe</i> ready to hand because they wish to be left
- alone? Decoud himself, for instance—Decoud, the imaginative
- journalist in <i>Nostromo</i>, speculating with his ironic mind upon
- romantic features, at his heart, apparently cynical and reserved, the
- burning passion for the beautiful Antonia. He has yielded enough to
- suggest the truth, but the truth itself eludes us. With Verloc again <span
- class="pagenum">66</span><a name="link066" id="link066"></a>we have a
- quite masterly presentation of the man as Conrad sees him. That first
- description of him is wonderful, both in its reality and its significance.
- “His eyes were naturally heavy, he had an air of having wallowed, fully
- dressed, all day on an unmade bed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- With many novelists that would be quite enough, that we should see the
- character as the author sees him, but because, in these histories, we have
- the convictions of the extension of the protagonists’ lives beyond the
- stated episodes, it is not enough. Because they have lives independent of
- the covers of the book we feel that there can be no end to the things that
- we should be told about them, and they must be true things.
- </p>
- <p>
- Verloc, for instance, is attached from the first to his <i>idée fixe</i>—namely,
- that he should be able to retain, at all costs, his phlegmatic state of
- self-indulgence and should not be jockeyed out of it. At the first sign of
- threatened change he is terrified to his very soul. Conrad never, for an
- instant, allows him to leave this ground upon which he has <span
- class="pagenum">67</span><a name="link067" id="link067"></a>placed him. We
- see the man tied to his rock of an <i>idée fixe</i>, but he has,
- nevertheless, we are assured, another life, other motives, other humours,
- other terrors. It is perhaps a direct tribute to the authors reserve power
- that we feel, at the book’s close, that we should have been told so much
- more.
- </p>
- <p>
- Even with the great Nostromo himself we are not satisfied as we are with
- Captain Whalley or Mr Kates. Nostromo is surely, as a picture, the moat
- romantically satisfying figure in the English novel since Scott, with the
- single exception of Thackeray’s Beatrix—and here I am not forgetting
- Captain Silver, David Balfour, Catriona, nor, in our own immediate time,
- young Beauchamp or the hero of that amazing and so unjustly obscure
- fiction, <i>The Shadow of a Titan</i>. As a picture, Nostromo shines with
- a flaming colour, shines, as the whole novel shines, with a glow that is
- flung by the contrasted balance of its romance and realism. From that
- first vision of him as he rides slowly through the crowds, in his
- magnificent dress: “... his hat, a gay sombrero with <span class="pagenum">68</span><a
- name="link068" id="link068"></a>a silver cord and tassels. The bright
- colours of a Mexican scrape twisted on the mantle, the enormous silver
- buttons on the embroidered leather jacket, the row of tiny silver buttons
- down the seam of the trousers, the snowy linen, a silk sash with
- embroidered ends, the silver plates on headstall and saddle... to that
- last moment when—... in the dimly lit room Nostromo rolled his head
- slowly on the pillow and opened his eyes, directing at the weird figure
- perched by his bedside a glance of enigmatic and mocking scorn. Then his
- head rolled back, his eyelids fell, and the Capatos of the Cargadores died
- without a word or moan after an hour of immobility, broken by short
- shudders testifying to the most atrocious sufferings”—we are
- conscious of his superb figure; and after his death we do, indeed, believe
- what the last lines of the book assure us—“In that true cry of love
- and grief that seemed to ring aloud from Punta Mala to Azuera and away to
- the bright line of the horizon, overhung by a big white cloud shining like
- a mass of solid silver, the <span class="pagenum">69</span><a
- name="link069" id="link069"></a>genius of the magnificent Capatuz de
- Cargadores dominated the dark gulf containing his conquests of treasure
- and love.” His genius dominates, yes—but it is the genius of a
- magnificent picture standing as a frontispiece to the book of his soul.
- And that soul is not given us—Nostromo, proud to the last, refuses
- to surrender it to us. Why is it that the slender sketch of old Singleton
- in <i>The Nigger of the Narcissus</i> gives us the very heart of the man,
- so that volumes might tell us more of him indeed, but could not surrender
- him to us more truly, and all the fine summoning of Nostromo only leaves
- him beyond our grasp? We believe in Nostromo, but we are told about him—we
- have not met him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nevertheless, at another turn of the road, this criticism must seem the
- basest ingratitude. When we look back and survey that crowd, so various,
- so distinct whether it be they who are busied, before our eyes, with the
- daily life of Sulaoo, or the Verloc family (the most poignant scene in the
- whole of Conrad’s art—the drive in the <span class="pagenum">70</span><a
- name="link070" id="link070"></a>cab of old Mrs Verloc, Winnie and Stevie—compels,
- additionally, our gratitude) or that strange gathering, the Haldins,
- Nikita, Laspara, Madame de S———, Peter Ivanovitch,
- Raznmov, at Geneva, or the highly coloured figures in <i>Romance</i> (a
- book fine in some places, astonishingly second-rate in others), Falk or
- Amy Foster, Jacobus and his daughter, Jasper and his lover, all those and
- so many, many more, what can we do but embrace the world that is offered
- to us, accept it as an axiom of life that, of all these figures, some will
- be near to us, some more distant? It is, finally, a world that Conrad
- offers us, not a series of novels in whose pages we find the same two or
- three figures returning to us—old friends with new faces and new
- names—but a planet that we know, even as we know the Meredith
- planet, the Hardy planet, the James planet.
- </p>
- <p>
- Looking back, we may trace its towns and rivers, its continents and seas,
- its mean streets and deep valleys, its country houses, its sordid hovels,
- its vast, untamed forests, its deserts and wilderness s. Although each
- <span class="pagenum">71</span><a name="link071" id="link071"></a>work,
- from, the vast <i>Nostromo</i> to the minutely perfect <i>Secret Share</i>,
- has its new theme, its form, its separate heart, the swarming life that he
- has created knows no boundary. And in this, surely, creation has
- accomplished its noblest work.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- III—THE POET
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE <span
- class="pagenum">72</span><a name="link072" id="link072"></a>poet in Conrad
- is lyrical as well as philosophic. The lyrical side is absent in certain
- of his works, as, for example, <i>The Secret Agent</i>, and <i>Under
- Western Eyes</i>, or such short stories as <i>The Informer</i>, or <i>Il
- Conde</i>, but the philosophic note sounded poetically, as an instrument
- of music as well as a philosophy, is never absent.
- </p>
- <p>
- Three elements in the work of Conrad the poet as distinct from Conrad the
- novelist deserve consideration—style, atmosphere and philosophy. In
- the matter of style the first point that must strike any constant reader
- of the novels is the change that is to be marked between the earlier works
- and the later. Here is a descriptive passage from <span class="pagenum">73</span><a
- name="link073" id="link073"></a>Conrad’s second novel, <i>An Outcast of
- the Islands</i>:
- </p>
- <p>
- “He followed her step by step till at last they both stopped, facing each
- other under the big tree of the enclosure. The solitary exile of the
- forests great, motionless and solemn in his abandonment, left alone by the
- life of ages that had been pushed away from him by those pigmies that
- crept at his foot, towered high and straight above their leader. He seemed
- to look on, dispassionate and imposing in his lonely greatness, spreading
- his branches wide in a gesture of lofty protection, as if to hide them in
- the sombre shelter of innumerable leaves; as if moved by the disdainful
- compassion of the strong, by the scornful pity of an aged giant, to screen
- this struggle of two human hearts from the cold scrutiny of glittering
- stars.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And from his latest novel, <i>Chance</i>:
- </p>
- <p>
- “The very sea, with short flashes of foam bursting out here and there in
- the gloomy distances, the unchangeable, safe sea sheltering a man from all
- passions, except its own anger, seemed queer to the quick <span
- class="pagenum">74</span><a name="link074" id="link074"></a>glance he
- threw to windward when the already effaced horizon traced no reassuring
- limit to the eye. In the expiring diffused twilight, and before the
- clouded night dropped its mysterious veil, it was the immensity of space
- made visible—almost palpable. Young Powell felt it. He felt it in
- the sudden sense of his isolation; the trustworthy, powerful ship of his
- first acquaintance reduced to a speck, to something almost
- undistinguishable. The mere support for the soles of his two feet before
- that unexpected old man becoming so suddenly articulate in a darkening
- universe.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It must be remembered that the second of these quotations is the voice of
- Marlowe and that therefore it should, in necessity, be the simpler of the
- two. Nevertheless, the distinction can very clearly be observed. The first
- piece of prose is quite definitely lyrical: it has, it cannot be denied,
- something of the “purple patch.” We feel that the prose is too dependent
- upon sonorous adjectives, that it has the deliberation of work slightly
- affected by the author’s <span class="pagenum">75</span><a name="link075" id="link075"></a>determination that it shall be fine. The rhythm in it,
- however, is as deliberate as the rhythm of any poem in English, the
- picture evoked as distinct and clear-cut as though it were, in actual
- tact, a poem detached from all context and, finally, there is the
- inevitable philosophical implication to give the argument to the picture.
- Such passages of descriptive prose may be found again and again in the
- earlier novels and tales of Conrad, in <i>Almayer’s Folly, Tales of
- Unrest, The Nigger of the Narcissus, Typhoon, Youth, Heart of Darkness,
- Lord Jim</i>,—prose piled high with sonorous and slow-moving
- adjectives, three adjectives to a noun, prose that sounds hike an Eastern
- invocation to a deity in whom, nevertheless, the suppliant does not
- believe. At its worst, the strain that its sonority places upon movements
- and objects of no importance is disastrous. For instance, in the tale
- called <i>The Return</i>, there is the following passage:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “He saw her shoulder touch the lintel of the door. She swayed as if dazed.
- There was <span class="pagenum">76</span><a name="link076" id="link076"></a>less
- than a second of suspense while they both felt as if poised on the very
- edge of moral annihilation, ready to fall into some devouring nowhere.
- Then almost simultaneously he shouted, ‘Come back,’ and she let go the
- handle of the door. She turned round in peaceful desperation like one who
- has deliberately thrown away the last chance of life; and for a moment the
- room she faced appeared terrible, and dark, and safe—like a grave.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The situation here simply will not bear the weight of the words—“moral
- annihilation,” “devouring nowhere,” “peaceful desperation,” “last chance
- of life,” “terrible,” “like a grave.” That he shouted gives a final touch
- of ludicrous exaggeration to the whole passage.
- </p>
- <p>
- Often, in the earlier books, Conrad’s style has the awkward over-emphasis
- of a writer who is still acquiring the language that he is using, like a
- foreigner who shouts to us because he thinks that thus we shall understand
- him more easily. But there is also, in this earlier style, the marked
- effect of <span class="pagenum">77</span><a name="link077" id="link077"></a>two
- influences. One influence is that of the French language and especially of
- the author of <i>Madame Bovary</i>. When we recollect that Conrad
- hesitated at the beginning of his career as to whether he would write in
- French or English, we can understand this French inflection. Flaubert’s
- effect on his style is quite unmistakable. This is a sentence of
- Flaubert’s: “Toutes ses velléités de dénigrement l’envanouissaiont sous la
- poésie du rôle qui l’envahissait; et entrainée vers l’homme par l’illusion
- du personnage elle tâcha de se figurer sa vie, cette vie retentissante,
- extraordinaire, splendide...” and this a sentence of Conrad’s: “Her hands
- slipped slowly off Lingard’s shoulders and her arms tell by her side,
- listless, discouraged, as if to her—to her, the savage, violent and
- ignorant creature—had been revealed clearly in that moment the
- tremendous fact of our isolation, of the loneliness, impenetrable and
- transparent, elusive and everlasting.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Conrad’s sentence reads like a direct translation from the French, It is
- probable, <span class="pagenum">78</span><a name="link078" id="link078"></a>however,
- that his debt to Flaubert and the French language can be very easily
- exaggerated, and it does not seem, in any case, to have driven very deeply
- into the heart of his form. The influence is mainly to be detected in the
- arrangement of words and sentences as though he had in the first years of
- his work, used it as a crutch before he could walk alone.
- </p>
- <p>
- The second of the early influences upon his style is of far greater
- importance—the influence of the vast, unfettered elements of nature
- that he had, for so many years, so directly served. If it were not for his
- remarkable creative gift that had been, from the very first, at its full
- strength, his early books would stand as purely lyrical evocations of the
- sea and the forest. It is the poetry of the Old Testament of which we
- think in many pages of <i>Almayer’s Folly</i> and <i>An Outcast of the
- Island</i>, a poetry that has the rhythm and metre of a spontaneous
- emotion. He was never again to catch quite the spirit of that first
- rapture.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was under the influence of these powers <span class="pagenum">79</span><a
- name="link079" id="link079"></a>also in that, at that time, they were too
- strong for him. We feel with him that he is impotent to express his wonder
- and praise because he is still so immediately under their sway. His style,
- in these earlier hooks, has the repetitions and extended phrases of a man
- who is marking time before the inspired moment comes to him—often
- the inspiration does not come because he cannot detach himselt with
- sufficient pause and balance. But in his middle period, in the period of
- <i>Youth, Typhoon, Heart of Darkness</i> and <i>Nostromo</i>, this lyrical
- impulse can be seen at its perfection, beating, steadily, spontaneously,
- with the finest freedom and yet disciplined, as it were, by its own will
- and desire. Compare, for a moment, this passage from <i>Typhoon</i> with
- that earlier one from <i>The Outcast of the Islands</i> that I quoted
- above:
- </p>
- <p>
- “He watched her, battered and solitary, labouring heavily in a wild scene
- of mountainous black waters lit by the gleam of distant worlds. She moved
- slowly, breathing into the still core of the hurricane <span
- class="pagenum">80</span><a name="link080" id="link080"></a>the excess of
- her strength in a white cloud of steam, and the deep-toned vibration of
- the escape was like the defiant trumpeting of a living creature of the sea
- impatient for the renewal of the contest. It ceased suddenly. The still
- air moaned. Above Jakes’ head a few stars shone into the pit of black
- vapours. The inky edge of the cloud-disc frowned upon the ship under the
- patch of glittering sky. The stars too seemed to look at her intently, as
- if for the last time, and the cluster of their splendour sat like a diadem
- on a lowering brow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- That is poet’s work, and poet’s work at its finest. Instead of impressing
- us, as the earlier piece of prose, with the fact that the author has made
- the very most of a rather thin moment—feels, indeed, himself that it
- is thin—we are here under the influence of something that can have
- no limits to the splendours that it contains. The work is thick, as though
- it had been wrought by the finest workman out of the heart of the finest
- material—and yet it remains, through all its discipline,
- spontaneous.
- </p>
- <p>
- These three tales, <i>Typhoon, Youth</i> and <span class="pagenum">81</span><a
- name="link081" id="link081"></a><i>Heart of Darkness</i>, stand by
- themselves as the final expression of Conrad’s lyrical gift. We may
- remember such characters as M’Whirr, Kurtz, Marlowe, but they are figures
- as the old seneschal in <i>The Eve of St Agnes</i> or the Ancient Mariner
- himself are figures. They are as surely complete poems, wrought and
- finished in the true spirit of poetry, as Whitman’s <i>When Lilac first on
- the Door yard bloomed</i> or Keats’ <i>Nightingale.</i> Their author was
- never again to succeed so completely in combining the free spirit of his
- enthusiasm with the disciplined restraint of the true artist.
- </p>
- <p>
- The third period of his style shows him cool and clear-headed as to the
- things that he intends to do. He is now the slightly ironic, artist whose
- business is to get things on to paper in the clearest possible way. He is
- conscious that in the past he has been at the mercy of sonorous and
- high-sounding adjectives. He will use them still, but only to show them
- that they are at his mercy. Marlowe, his appointed minister, is older—he
- must look back now on the colours of <span class="pagenum">82</span><a
- name="link082" id="link082"></a><i>Youth</i> with an indulgent smile. And
- when Marlowe is absent, in such novels as <i>The Secret Agent</i> and <i>Under
- Western Eyes</i>, in such a volume of stories as <i>A Set of Six</i>, the
- lyrical beat in the style is utterly abandoned—we are led forward by
- sentences as grave, as assured, and sometimes as ponderous as a city
- policeman. Nevertheless, in that passage from <i>Chance</i> quoted at the
- beginning of the chapter, although we may be far from the undisciplined
- enthusiasm of <i>An Outcast of the Islands</i>, the lyrical impulse still
- remains. Yes, it is there, but—“Young Powell felt it.” In that
- magical storm that was <i>Typhoon</i> God alone can share our terror and
- demand our courage; in the later experience young Powell is our companion.
- </p>
- <h3>
- II.
- </h3>
- <p>
- The question of style devolves here directly into the question of
- atmosphere. There may roughly be said to be four classes of novelists in
- the matter of atmosphere. There is the novelist who, intent upon his <span
- class="pagenum">83</span><a name="link083" id="link083"></a>daily bread or
- game of golf, has no desire to be worried by such a perplexing business.
- He produces stories that might without loss play the whole of their action
- in the waiting-room of an English railway station. There is the novelist
- who thinks that atmosphere matters immensely, who works hard to produce it
- and <i>does</i> produce it in thick slabs. There are the novelists whose
- theme, characters and background react so admirably that the atmosphere is
- provided simply by that reaction—and there, finally, it is left, put
- into no relation with other atmospheres, serving no further purpose than
- the immediate one of stating the facts. Of this school are the realists
- and, in our own day, Mr Arnold Bennett’s Brighton background in <i>Hilda
- Lessways</i> or Mrs Wharton’s New York background in <i>The House of Mirth</i>
- offer most successful examples of such realistic work. The fourth class
- provides us with the novelists who wish to place their atmosphere in
- relation with the rest of life. Our imagination is awakened, insensibly,
- by the contemplation of some scene and is thence <span class="pagenum">84</span><a
- name="link084" id="link084"></a>extended to the whole vista, of life, from
- birth to death; although the scene may actually be as remote or as
- conlined as space can make it, its potential limits are boundless, its
- progression is extended beyond all possibilities of definition. Such a
- moment is the death of Bazarov in <i>Fathers and Children</i>, the
- searching of Dmitri in <i>The Brothers Karamazov</i>, the scene at the
- theatre in <i>The Ring and the Book</i>, the London meeting between
- Beauchamp and René in <i>Beauchamp’s Career</i>. It is not only that these
- scenes are “done” to the full extent of their “doing,” it is also that
- they have behind them the lyrical impulse that ignites them with all the
- emotion and beauty in the history of the world; Turgeniev, Dostoievsky,
- Browning, Meredith were amongst the greatest of the poets. Conrad, at his
- highest moments, is also of that company.
- </p>
- <p>
- But it is not enough to say that this potential atmosphere is simply
- lyrical. Mr Chesterton, in his breathless <i>Victorian Age in Literature</i>,
- has named this element Glamour. <span class="pagenum">85</span><a
- name="link085" id="link085"></a>In writing of the novels by George Eliot
- he says: “Indeed there is almost every element of literature, except a
- certain indescribable thing called <i>Glamour</i>, which was the whole
- stock-in-trade of the Brontes, which we feel in Dickens when Quilp
- clambers, and rotten wood by the desolate river; and even in Thackeray,
- when Edmond wanders like some swarthy crow about the dismal avenues of
- Castlewood.” Now’ this matter of <i>Glamour</i> is not all, because
- Dickens, for instance, is not at all potential. His pictures of Quilp or
- the house of the Dedloeks or Jonas Chuzzlewit’s escape after the murder do
- not put us into touch with other worlds—but we may say, at any rate,
- that when, in a novel atmosphere <i>is</i> potential it is certain also to
- have glamour.
- </p>
- <p>
- The potential qualities of Conrad’s atmosphere are amongst his very
- strongest gifts and, it we investigate the matter, we see that it is his
- union of Romance and Realism that gives such results. Of almost no
- important scene in his novels is it possible to define the boundaries. In
- <i>The Outcast <span class="pagenum">86</span><a name="link086" id="link086"></a>of the Islands</i>, when Willems is exiled by Captain
- Lingard, the terror of that forest has at its heart not only the actual
- terror of that immediate scene, minutely and realistically described—it
- has also the terror of all our knowledge of loneliness, desolation, the
- power of something stronger than ourselves. In <i>Lord Jim</i> the
- contrast of Jim with the officers of the <i>Patna</i> is a contrast not
- only immediately vital and realised to the very fringe of the captain’s
- gay and soiled pyjamas, but also potential to the very limits of our
- ultimate conception of the eternal contrast between good and evil,
- degradation and vigour, ugliness and beauty. In <i>The Nigger of the
- Narcissus</i> the death of the negro, James Wait, immediately affects the
- lives of a number of very ordinary human beings whose friends and
- intimates we have become—but that shadow that traps the feet of the
- negro, that alarms the souls of Donkin, of Belfast, of Singleton, of the
- boy Charlie, creeps also to our sides and envelops for us far more than
- that single voyage of the <i>Narcissus</i>. <span class="pagenum">87</span><a
- name="link087" id="link087"></a>When Winnie Verloc, her old mother and the
- boy Stevie, take their journey in the cab it does not seem ludicrous to us
- that the tears of “that large female in a dark, dusty wig, and ancient
- silk dress festooned with dingy white cotton lace” should move us as
- though Mrs Verloc were our nearest friend. That mournful but courageous
- journey remains in our mind as an intimate companion of our own mournful
- and courageous experiences. Such examples might be multiplied quite
- indefinitely.
- </p>
- <p>
- He has always secured his atmosphere by his own eager curiosity about
- significant detail, but his detail is significant, not because he wishes
- to impress his reader with the realism of his picture, but rather because
- he s, like a very small boy in a strange house, pursuing the most romantic
- adventures for his own pleasure and excitement only. We may hear, with
- many novelists, the click of satisfaction with which they drive another
- nail into the framework that supports their picture. “Now see how firmly
- it stands,” they say. “That last nail settled it.” But <span
- class="pagenum">88</span><a name="link088" id="link088"></a>Conrad is
- utterly unconscious as to his readers’ later credulity—he is too
- completely held by his own amazing discoveries. Sometimes, as in <i>The
- Return</i>, when no vision is granted to him, it is as though he were
- banging on a brass tray with all his strength so that no one should
- perceive his own grievous disappointment at his failure. But, in his real
- discoveries, how the atmosphere piles itself up, around and about him, how
- we follow at his heels, penetrating the darkness, trusting to his courage,
- finding ourselves suddenly blinded by the blaze of Aladdin’s cave! If he
- is tracing the tragedy of Willems and Almayer, a tragedy that has for its
- natural background the gorgeous, heavy splendour of those unending
- forests, he sees details that belong to the austerest and most sharply
- disciplined realism. We see Lakamba, asleep under the moon, slapping
- himself in his dreams to keep off the mosquitoes; a bluebottle comes
- buzzing into the verandah above the dirty plates of a half-finished meal
- and defies Lingard and Almayer, so <span class="pagenum">89</span><a
- name="link089" id="link089"></a>that they are like men disheartened by
- some tremendous failure; the cards with which Lingard tries to build a
- house for Almayer’s baby are “a dirty double pack” with which he used to
- play Chinese bézique—it bored Almayer but the old seaman delighted
- in it, considering it a remarkable product of Chinese genius. The
- atmosphere of the terrible final chapters is set against this picture of a
- room in which Mrs Willems is waiting for her abominable husband:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bits of white stuff; rags yellow, pink, blue; rags limp, brilliant and
- soiled, trailed on the floor, lay on the desk amongst the sombre covers of
- books soiled, greasy, but stiff-backed in virtue, perhaps, of their
- European origin. The biggest set of bookshelves was partly hidden by a
- petticoat, the waistband of which was caught upon the back of a slender
- book pulled a little out of the row so as to make an improvised
- clothes-peg. The folding canvas bedstead stood anyhow, parallel to no
- wall, as if it had been, in the process of transportation to some remote
- place, dropped casually there by tired bearers. And on the tumbled
- blankets that <span class="pagenum">90</span><a name="link090" id="link090"></a>lay
- in a disordered heap on its edge, Joanna sat.... Through the half-open
- shutter a ray of sunlight, a ray merciless and crude, came into the room,
- beat in the early morning upon the safe in the far-off corner, then,
- travelling against the sun, cut at midday the big desk in two with its
- solid and clean-edged brilliance; with its hot brilliance in which a swarm
- of flies hovered in dancing flight over some dirty plate forgotten there
- amongst yellow papers for many a day!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And this room is set in the very heart of the forests—“the forests
- unattainable, enigmatical, for ever beyond reach like the stars of heaven—and
- as indifferent.” Had I space I could multiply from every novel and tale
- examples of this creation of atmosphere by the juxtaposition of the
- lyrical and the realistic—the lyrical pulse beating through
- realistic detail ami transforming it. I will, however, select one book, a
- supreme example of this effect. What I say about <i>Nostromo</i> may be
- proved from any other work of Conrad’s.
- </p>
- <p>
- The theme of <i>Nostromo</i> is the domination <span class="pagenum">91</span><a
- name="link091" id="link091"></a>of the silver of the Sulaco mine over the
- bodies and souls of the human beings who live near it. The light of the
- silver shines over the book. It is typified by “the white head of
- Iliguerota rising majestically upon the blue.” Conrad, then, in choosing
- his theme, has selected the most romantic possible, the spirit of silver
- treasure luring men on desperately to adventure and to death. His
- atmosphere, therefore, is, in its highest lights, romantic, even until
- that last vision of all of “the bright line of the horizon, overhung by a
- big white cloud shining like a mass of solid silver.” Sulaco burns with
- colour. We can see, as though we had been there yesterday, those streets
- with the coaches, “great family arks swayed on high leathern springs full
- of pretty powdered faces in which the eyes looked intensely alive and
- black,” the houses, “in the early sunshine, delicate primrose, pale pink,
- pale blue,” or, after dark, from Mrs Gould’s balcony “towards the plaza
- end of the street the glowing coals in the hazeros of the market women
- cooking their <span class="pagenum">92</span><a name="link092" id="link092"></a>evening
- meal glowed red along the edge of the pavement. A man appeared without a
- sound in the light of a street lamp, showing the coloured inverted
- triangle of his broidered poncho, square on his shoulders, hanging to a
- point below his knees. From the harbour end of the Calle a horseman walked
- his soft-stepping mount, gleaming silver-grey abreast each lamp under the
- dark shape of the rider.” Later there is that sinister glimpse of the
- plaza, “where a patrol of cavalry rode round and round without penetrating
- into the streets which resounded with shouts and the strumming of guitars
- issuing from the open doors of pulperias... and above the roofs, next to
- the perpendicular lines of the cathedral towers the snowy curve of
- Higuerota blocked a large space of darkening blue sky before the windows
- of the Intendencia.” In its final created beauty Sulaco is as romantic, as
- coloured as one of those cloud-topped, many-towered towns under whose
- gates we watch Grimm’s princes and princesses passing—but the detail
- of it is <span class="pagenum">93</span><a name="link093" id="link093"></a>built
- with careful realism demanded by the “architecture of Manchester or
- Birmingham.” We wonder, as Sulaco grows familiar to us, as we realise its
- cathedral, its squares and streets and houses, its slums, its wharves, its
- sea, its hills and forests, why it is that other novelists have not
- created towns for us.
- </p>
- <p>
- Anthony Trollope did, indeed, give us Barchester, but Barchester is a
- shadow beside Sulaco. Mr Thomas Hardy’s Wessex map is the most fascinating
- document in modern fiction, with the possible exception of Stevenson’s
- chart in <i>Treasure Island</i>. Conrad, without any map at all, gives us
- a familiarity with a small town on the South American coast that far
- excels our knowledge of Barsetshire, Wessex and John Silver’s treasure. If
- any attentive reader of <i>Nostromo</i> were put down in Sulaco tomorrow
- he would feel as though he had returned to his native town. The detail
- that provides this final picture is throughout the book incessant but
- never intruding. We do not look back, when the novel is <span
- class="pagenum">94</span><a name="link094" id="link094"></a>finished, to
- any especial moment of explanation or introduction. We have been led,
- quite unconsciously, forward. We are led, at moments of the deepest drama,
- through rooms and passages that are only remembered, many hours later, in
- retrospect. There is, for instance, the Aristocratic Club, that “extended
- to strangers the large hospitality of the cool, big rooms of its historic
- quarters in the front part of a house, once a residence of a High official
- of the Holy Office. The two wings, shut up, crumbled behind the nailed
- doors, and what may be described as a grove of young orange-trees grown in
- the unpaved patio concealed the utter ruin of the back part facing the
- gate. You turned in from the street, as if entering a secluded orchard,
- where you came upon the foot of a disjointed staircase, guarded by a
- moss-stained effigy of some saintly bishop, mitred and stalled, and
- bearing the indignity of a broken nose meekly, with his fine stone hands
- crossed on his breast. The chocolate-coloured faces of servants with mops
- of black hair peeped at you from above; the click of billiard balls came
- to your ears, and, <span class="pagenum">95</span><a name="link095" id="link095"></a>ascending the steps, you would perhaps see in the first
- steps, very stiff upon a straight-backed chair, in a good light, Don Pépé
- moving his long moustaches as he spelt his way, at arm’s length, through
- an old Sta Marta newspaper. His horse—a strong-hearted but
- persevering black brute, with a hammer bead—you would have seen in
- the street dozing motionless under an immense saddle, with its nose almost
- touching the curbstone of the side-walk!”
- </p>
- <p>
- How perfectly recollected is that passage! Can we not hear the exclamation
- of some reader “Yes—those orange-trees! It was just like that when I
- was there!” How convinced we are of Conrad’s unimpeachable veracity! How
- like him are those remembered details, “the nailed doors,” “the fine stone
- hands,” “at arm’s-length”!—and can we not sniff something of the
- author’s impatience to let himself go and tell us more about that
- “hammer-headed horse” of whose adventures with Don Pépé he must remember
- enough to fill a volume!
- </p>
- <p>
- He is able, therefore, upon this foundation <span class="pagenum">96</span><a
- name="link096" id="link096"></a>of a minute and scrupulous réalisai to
- build as fantastic a building as he pleases without fear of denying Truth.
- He does not, in <i>Nostromo</i> at any rate, choose to be fantastic, but
- he is romantic, and our final impression of the silver mine and the town
- under its white shining shadow is of something both as real and as
- beautiful as any vision of Keats or Shelley. But with the colour we
- remember also the grim tragedy of the life that has been shown to us. Near
- to the cathedral and the little tinkering streets of the guitars were the
- last awful struggles of the unhappy Hirsch. We remember Nostromo riding,
- with his silver buttons, catching the red flower flung to him out of the
- crowd, but we remember also his death and the agony of his defeated pride.
- Sotillo, the vainest and most sordid of bandits, is no figure for a fairy
- story.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here, then, is the secret of Conrad’s atmosphere. He is the poet, working
- through realism, to the poetic vision of life. That intention is at the
- heart of his work from the first line of <i>Almayer s Folly</i> to the
- last <span class="pagenum">97</span><a name="link097" id="link097"></a>line
- of <i>Victory. Nostromo</i> is not simply the history of certain lives
- that were concerned in a South American revolution. It <i>is</i> that
- history, but it is also a vision, a statement of beauty that has no
- country, nor period, and sets no barrier of immediate history or fable for
- its interpretation....
- </p>
- <p>
- When, however, we come finally to the philosophy that lies behind this
- creation of character and atmosphere we perceive, beyond question, certain
- limitations.
- </p>
- <h3>
- III
- </h3>
- <p>
- As we have already seen, Conrad is of the firm and resolute conviction
- that life is too strong, too clever and too remorseless for the sons of
- men.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is as though, from some high window, looking down, he were able to
- watch some shore, from whose security men were for ever launching little
- cockle-shell boats upon a limitless and angry sea. He observes them, as
- they advance with confidence, with determination, each with his own sure
- <span class="pagenum">98</span><a name="link098" id="link098"></a>ambition
- of nailing victory to his mast; he alone can see that the horizon is
- limitless; he can see farther than they—from his height he can
- follow their fortunes, their brave struggles, their fortitude to the very
- last. He admires that courage, the simplicity of that faith, but his irony
- springs from his knowledge of the inevitable end.
- </p>
- <p>
- There are, we may thankfully maintain, other possible views of life, and
- it is, surely, Conrad’s harshest limitation that he should never be free
- from this certain obsession of the vanity of human struggle. So bound is
- he by this that he is driven to choose characters who will prove his
- faith. We can remember many fine and courageous characters of his
- creation, we can remember no single one who is not foredoomed to defeat.
- Jim wins, indeed, his victory, but at the close: “And that’s the end. He
- passes away under a cloud, inscrutable at heart, forgotten, unforgiven,
- and excessively romantic.... He goes away from a living woman to celebrate
- his pitiless wedding with a shadowy ideal of conduct.” <span
- class="pagenum">99</span><a name="link099" id="link099"></a>Conrad’s
- ironical smile that has watched with tenderness the history of Jim’s
- endeavours, proclaims, at the last, that that pursuit has been vain—as
- vain as Stein’s butterflies.
- </p>
- <p>
- And, for the rest, as Mr Curle in his study of Conrad has admirably
- observed, every character is faced with the enemy for whom he is, by
- character, least fitted. Nostromo, whose heart’s desire it is that his
- merits should be acclaimed before men, is devoured by the one dragon to
- whom human achievements are nothing—lust of treasure.
- </p>
- <p>
- M’Whirr, the most unimaginative of men, is opposed by the most tremendous
- of God’s splendid terrors and, although he saves his ship from the storm,
- so blind is he to the meaning of the things that he has witnessed that he
- might as well have never been born. Captain Brierley, watching the
- degradation of a fellow-creature from a security that nothing, it seems,
- can threaten, is himself caught by that very degradation.... The Beast in
- the Jungle is waiting ever ready to leap—the victim is always in his
- power. <span class="pagenum">100</span><a name="link100" id="link100"></a>It
- comes from this philosophy of life that the qualities in the human soul
- that Conrad most definitely admires are blind courage and obedience to
- duty. His men of brain—Marlowe, Decoud, Stein—are melancholy
- and ironic: “If you see far enough you must see how hopeless the struggle
- is.” The only way to be honestly happy is to have no imagination and,
- because Conrad is tender at heart and would have his characters happy, if
- possible, he chooses men without imagination. Those are the men of the sea
- whom he has known and loved. The men of the land see farther than the men
- of the sea and must, therefore, be either fools or knaves. Towards Captain
- Anthony, towards Captain Lingard he extends his love and pity. For Verloc,
- for Ossipon, for old De Barral he has a disgust that is beyond words. For
- the Fynes and their brethren he has contempt. For two women of the land,
- Winnie Verloc and Mrs Gould, he reserves his love, and for them alone, but
- they have, in their hearts, the simplicity, the honesty of his own sea
- captains. <span class="pagenum">101</span><a name="link101" id="link101"></a>This
- then is quite simply his philosophy. It has no variation or relief. He
- will not permit his characters to escape, he will not himself try to draw
- the soul of a man who is stronger than Fate. His ironic melancholy does
- not, tor an instant, hamper his interest—that is as keen and acute
- as is the absorption of any collector of specimens—but at the end of
- it all, as with his own Stein: “He says of him that he is ‘preparing to
- leave all this: preparing to leave...’ while he waves his hand sadly at
- his butterflies.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Utterly opposed is it from the philosophy of the one English writer whom,
- in all other ways, Conrad most obviously resembles—Robert Browning.
- As philosophers they have no possible ground of communication, save in the
- honesty that is common to both of them. As artists, both in their subjects
- and their treatment of their subjects, they are, in many ways, of an
- amazing resemblance, although the thorough investigation of that
- resemblance would need far more space than I can give it here. Browning’s
- <span class="pagenum">102</span><a name="link102" id="link102"></a>interest
- in life was derived, on the novelist’s side of him, from his absorption in
- the affairs, spiritual and physical, of men and women; on the poet’s side,
- in the question again spiritual and physical, that arose from those
- affairs. Conrad has not Browning’s clear-eyed realisation of the necessity
- of discovering the individual philosophy that belongs to every individual
- case—he is too immediately enveloped in his one overwhelming
- melancholy analysis. But he has exactly that eager, passionate pursuit of
- romance, a romance to be seized only through the most accurate and honest
- realism.
- </p>
- <p>
- Browning’s realism was born of his excitement at the number and interest
- of his discoveries; he chose, for instance, in <i>Sordello</i> the most
- romantic of subjects, and, having made his choice, found that there was
- such a world of realistic detail in the case that, in his excitement, he
- forgot that the rest of the world did not know quite as much as he did. Is
- not this exactly what we may say of <i>Nostromo?</i> Mr Chesterton has
- written of <span class="pagenum">103</span><a name="link103" id="link103"></a>Browning:
- “He substituted the street with the green blind for the faded garden of
- Watteau, and the ‘blue spirt of a lighted match’ for the monotony of the
- evening star.” Conrad has substituted for the lover serenading his
- mistress’ window the passion of a middle-aged, faded woman for her idiot
- boy, or the elopement of the daughter of a fraudulent speculator with an
- elderly, taciturn sea captain.
- </p>
- <p>
- The characters upon whom Robert Browning lavished his affection are
- precisely Conrad’s characters. Is not Waring Conrad’s man?
- </p>
- <p>
- And for the rest, is not Mr Sludge own brother to Verloc and old De
- Barrel? Bishop Blougram first cousin to the great Personage in <i>The
- Secret Agent</i>, Captain Anthony brother to Caponsacchi, Mrs Gould sister
- to Pompilia? It is not only that Browning and Conrad both investigate
- these characters with the same determination to extract the last word of
- truth from the matter, not grimly, but with a thrilling beat of the heart,
- it is also that the worlds of these <span class="pagenum">104</span><a
- name="link104" id="link104"></a>two poets are the same. How deeply would
- Nostromo, Decoud, Gould, Monyngham, the Verlocs, Flora de Barrel, M’Whirr,
- Jim have interested Browning! Surely Conrad has witnessed the revelation
- of Caliban, of Childe Roland, of James Lee’s wife, of the figures in the
- Arezzo tragedy, even of that bishop who ordered his tomb at St Praxed’s
- Church, with a strange wonder as though he himself had assisted at these
- discoveries!
- </p>
- <p>
- Finally, <i>The Ring and the Book</i>, with its multiplied witnesses, its
- statement as a “case” of life, its pursuit of beauty through truth, the
- simplicity of the characters of Pompilia, Caponsacchi and the Pope, the
- last frantic appeal of Guido, the detail, encrusted thick in the walls of
- that superb building—here we can see the highest pinnacle of that
- temple that has <i>Chance, Lord Jim, Nostromo</i> amongst its other
- turrets, buttresses and towers.
- </p>
- <p>
- Conrad is his own master—he has imitated no one, he has created, as
- I have already said, his own planet, but the heights to which Browning
- carried Romantic-Realism showed <span class="pagenum">105</span><a
- name="link105" id="link105"></a>the author of <i>Almayer’s Folly</i> the
- signs of the road that he was to follow.
- </p>
- <p>
- If, as has often been said, Browning was as truly novelist as poet, may we
- not now say with equal justice that Conrad is as truly poet as novelist?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- IV—ROMANCE AND REALISM
- </h2>
- <h3>
- I
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE <span
- class="pagenum">106</span><a name="link106" id="link106"></a>terms,
- Romance and Realism, have been used of late years very largely as a means
- of escape from this business of the creation of character. The purely
- romantic novel may now be said to be, in England at any rate, absolutely
- dead. Mr Frank Swinnerton, in his study of <i>Robert Louis Stevenson</i>,
- said: “Stevenson, reviving the never-very-prosperous romance of England,
- created a school which has brought romance to be the sweepings of an old
- costume-chest;... if romance is to be conventional in a double sense, if
- it spring not from a personal vision of life, but is only a tedious
- virtuosity, a pretence, a conscious toy, romance as an art is dead. The
- art was jaded when Reade finished his vocifer<span class="pagenum">107</span><a
- name="link107" id="link107"></a>ous carpet-beating; but it was not dead.
- And if it is dead, Stevenson killed it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- We may differ very considerably from Mr Swinnerton with regard to his
- estimate of Stevenson’s present and future literary value without denying
- that the date of the publication of <i>St Ives</i> was also the date of
- the death of the purely romantic novel.
- </p>
- <p>
- But, surely, here, as Mr Swinnerton himself infers, the term “Romantic” is
- used in the limited and truncated idea that has formed, lately the popular
- idea of Romance. In exactly the same way the term “Realism” has, recently,
- been most foolishly and uncritically handicapped. Romance, in its modern
- use, covers everything that is removed from reality: “I like romances,” we
- hear the modern reader say, “because they take me away from real life,
- which I desire to forget.” In the same way Realism is defined by its
- enemies as a photographic enumeration of unimportant facts by an observant
- pessimist. “I like realism,” admirers of a certain order of novel <span
- class="pagenum">108</span><a name="link108" id="link108"></a>exclaim,
- “because it is so like life. It tells me just what I myself see every day—I
- know where I am.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Nevertheless, impatient though we may be of these utterly false ideas of
- Romance and Realism, a definition of those terms that will satisfy
- everyone is almost impossible. I cannot hope to achieve so exclusive an
- ambition—I can only say that to myself Realism is the study of life
- with all the rational faculties of observation, reason and reminiscence—Romance
- is the study of life with the faculties of imagination. I do not mean that
- Realism may not be emotional, poetic, even lyrical, but it is based always
- upon truth perceived and recorded—-it is the essence ol observation.
- In the same way Romance may be, indeed must be, accurate and defined in
- its own world, but its spirit is the spirit of imagination, working often
- upon observation and sometimes simply upon inspiration. It is, at any
- rate, understood here that the word Romance does not, for a moment, imply
- a necessary divorce from reality, nor does <span class="pagenum">109</span><a
- name="link109" id="link109"></a>Realism imply a detailed and dusty
- preference for morbid and unagreeable subjects. It is possible for Romance
- to be as honestly and clearly perceptive as Realism, but it is not so easy
- for it to be so because imagination is more difficult of discipline than
- observation. It is possible for Realism to be as eloquent and potential as
- Romance, although it cannot so easily achieve eloquence because of its
- fear of deserting truth. Moreover, with regard to the influence of foreign
- literature upon the English novel, it may be suggested that the influence
- of the French novel, which was at its strongest between the years of 1885
- and 1895, was towards Realism, and that the influence of the Russian
- novel, which has certainly been very strongly marked in England during the
- last years, is all towards Romantic-Realism. If we wished to know exactly
- what is meant by Romantic-Realism, such a novel as <i>The Brothers
- Karamazov</i>, such a play as <i>The Cherry Orchard</i> are there before
- us, as the best possible examples. We might say, in a word, that <i>Karamazov</i>
- has, in the England <span class="pagenum">110</span><a name="link110" id="link110"></a>of 1915, taken the place that was occupied, in 1890, by
- <i>Madame Bovary</i>....
- </p>
- <h3>
- II
- </h3>
- <p>
- It is Joseph Conrad whose influence is chiefly responsible for this
- development in the English novel. Just as, in the early nineties, Mr Henry
- James and Mr Rudyard Kipling, the one potential, the other kinetic,
- influenced, beyond all contemporary novelists, the minds of their younger
- generation, so to-day, twenty-five years later, do Mr Joseph Conrad and Mr
- H. G. Wells, the one potential, the other kinetic, hold that same
- position.
- </p>
- <p>
- Joseph Conrad, from the very first, influenced though he was by the French
- novel, showed that Realism alone was not enough for him. That is to say
- that, in presenting the case of Almayer, it was not enough for him merely
- to state as truthfully as possible the facts. Those facts, sordid as they
- are, make the story of Almayer’s degradation sufficiently realistic, when
- it is merely <span class="pagenum">111</span><a name="link111" id="link111"></a>recorded
- and perceived by any observer. But upon these recorded facts Conrad’s
- imagination, without for a moment deserting the truth, worked,
- beautifying, ennobling it, giving it pity and terror, above all putting it
- mto relation with the whole universe, the whole history of the cycle of
- life and death.
- </p>
- <p>
- As I have said, the Romantic novel, in its simplest form, was used, very
- often, by writers who wished to escape from the business of the creation
- of character. It had not been used for that purpose by Sir Walter Scott,
- who was, indeed, the first English Romantic-Realist, but it was so used by
- his successors, who found a little optimism, a little adventure, a little
- colour and a little tradition go a long way towards covering the required
- ground.
- </p>
- <p>
- Conrad had, from the first, a poet’s—that is to say, a romantic—mind,
- and his determination to use that romance realistically was simply his
- determination to justify the full play of his romantic mind in the eyes of
- all honest men. <span class="pagenum">112</span><a name="link112" id="link112"></a>In that intention he has absolutely succeeded; he has not
- abated one jot of his romance—<i>Nostromo, Lord Jim, Heart of
- Darkness</i> are amongst the most romantic things in all our literature—but
- the last charge that any critic can make against him is falsification,
- whether of facts, of inference or of consequences.
- </p>
- <p>
- The whole history of his development has for its key-stone this
- determination to save his romance by his reality, to extend his reality by
- his romance. He found in English fiction little that could assist him in
- this development; the Russian novelists were to supply him with his clue.
- This whole question of Russian influence is difficult to define, but that
- Conrad has been influenced by Turgéniev a little and by Dostoievsky very
- considerably, cannot be denied. <i>Crime and Punishment, The Idiot, The
- Possessed, The Brothers Karamazov</i> are romantic realism at the most
- astonishing heights that this development of the novel is ever likely to
- attain. We will never see again heroes of the Prince Myshkin, Dmitri
- Karamazov, <span class="pagenum">113</span><a name="link113" id="link113"></a>Nicolas
- Stavrogin build, men so real to us that no change of time or place, age or
- sickness can take them from us, men so beautifully lit with the romantic
- passion of Dostoievsky’s love of humanity that they seem to warm the whole
- world, as we know it, with the fire of their charity. That power of
- creating figures typical as well as individual has been denied to Conrad.
- Captain Anthony, Nostromo, Jim do not belong to the whole world, nor do
- they escape the limitations and confinements that their presentation as
- “cases” involves on them. Moreover, Conrad does not love humanity. He
- feels pity, tenderness, admiration, but love, except for certain of his
- sea heroes, never, and even with his sea heroes it is love built on his
- scorn of the land. Dostoievsky scorned no one and nothing; as relentless
- in his pursuit of the truth as Stendhal or Flaubert, he found humanity, as
- he investigated it, beautiful because of its humanity—Conrad finds
- humanity pitiable because of its humanity.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nevertheless he has been influenced by <span class="pagenum">114</span><a
- name="link114" id="link114"></a>the Russian writer continuously and
- sometimes obviously. In at least one novel, <i>Under Western Eyes</i>, the
- influence has led to imitation. For that reason, perhaps, that novel is
- the least vital of all his books, and we feel as though Dostoievsky had
- given him Razumov to see what he could make of him, and had remained too
- overwhelmingly curious an onlooker to allow independent creation. What,
- however, Conrad has in common with the creator of Raskolnikov is his
- thrilling pursuit of the lives, the hearts, the minutest details of his
- characters. Conrad alone of all English novelists shares this zest with
- the great Russian. Dostoievsky found his romance in his love of his
- fellow-beings, Conrad finds his in his love of beauty, his poet’s cry for
- colour, but their realism they find together in the hearts of men—and
- they find it not as Flaubert, that they make of it a perfect work of art,
- not as Turgéniev, that they may extract from it a flower of poignant
- beauty, not as Tolstoi, that they may, from it, found a gospel—simply
- they pursue their quest <span class="pagenum">115</span><a name="link115" id="link115"></a>because the breathless interest of the pursuit is
- stronger than they. They have, both of them, created characters simply
- because characters demanded to be created. We feel that Emma Bovary was
- dragged, painfully, arduously, against all the strength of her
- determination, out of the shades where she was lurking. Myshkin, the
- Karamazovs, and, in their own degree, Nostromo, Almayer, M’Whirr, demanded
- that they should be flung upon the page.
- </p>
- <p>
- Instead of seizing upon Romance as a means of avoiding character, he has
- triumphantly forced it to aid him in the creation of the lives that,
- through him, demand existence. This may be said to be the great thing that
- Conrad has done for the English novel—he has brought the zest of
- creation back into it; the French novelists used life to perfect their art—the
- Russian novelists used art to liberate their passion for life. That at
- this moment in Russia the novel has lost that zest, that the work of
- Kouprin, Artzybashev, Sologub, Merejkovsky, Andreiev, shows exhaustion and
- sterility <span class="pagenum">116</span><a name="link116" id="link116"></a>means
- nothing; the stream will soon ran full again. Meanwhile we, in England,
- know once more what it is to feel, in the novel, the power behind the
- novelist, to be ourselves in the grip of a force that is not afraid of
- romance nor ashamed of realism, that cares for life as life and not as a
- means of proving the necessity for form, the danger of too many
- adjectives, the virtues of the divorce laws or the paradise of free love.
- </p>
- <h3>
- III
- </h3>
- <p>
- Finally, what will be the effect of the work of Joseph Conrad upon the
- English novel of the future? Does this Romantic-Realism that he has
- provided for us show any signs of influencing that future? I think that it
- does. In the work of all of the more interesting younger English novelists—in
- the work of Mr E. M. Forster, Mr D. H. Lawrence, Mr J. D. Beresford, Mr W.
- L. George, Mr Frank Swinnerton, Air Gilbert Gannan, Miss Viola Meynell, Mr
- Brett Young—this influence is to be detected. <span class="pagenum">117</span><a
- name="link117" id="link117"></a>Even with such avowed realists as Mr
- Beresford, Mr George and Mr Swinnerton the realism is of a nature very
- different from the realism of even ten years ago, as can be seen at once
- by comparing so recent a novel as Mr Swinnerton’s <i>On the Staircase</i>
- with Mr Arnold Bennett’s <i>Sacred and Profane Love</i>, or Mr
- Galsworthy’s <i>Man of Property</i>—and Mr E. M. Forster is a
- romantic-realist of most curious originality, whose <i>Longest Journey</i>
- and <i>Howard’s End</i> may possibly provide the historian of English
- literature with dates as important as the publication of <i>Almayer’s
- Folly</i> in 1895. The answer to this question does not properly belong to
- this essay.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is, at any rate, certain that neither the old romance nor the old
- realism can return. We have been shown in <i>Nostromo</i> something that
- has the colour of <i>Treasure Island</i> and the reality of <i>New Grub
- Street</i>. If, on the one hand, the pessimists lament that the English
- novel is dead, that everything that can be done has been done, there is,
- surely, on the other hand, some justification for the optimists who
- believe that at few periods in <span class="pagenum">118</span><a
- name="link118" id="link118"></a>English literature has the novel shown
- more signs of a thrilling and original future.
- </p>
- <p>
- For signs of the possible development of Conrad himselt one may glance for
- a moment at his last novel, <i>Victory</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- The conclusion of <i>Chance</i> and the last volume of short stories had
- shown that there was some danger lest romance should divorce him,
- ultimately, from reality. <i>Victory</i>, splendid tale though it is, does
- not entirely reassure us. The theme of the book is the pursuit of almost
- helpless uprightness and innocence by almost helpless evil and malignancy;
- that is to say that the strength and virtue of Heyst and Lena are as
- elemental and independent of human will and effort as the villainy and
- slime of Mr Jones and Ricardo. Conrad has here then returned to his old
- early demonstration that nature is too strong for man and I feel as
- though, in this book, he had intended the whole affair to be blown,
- finally, sky-high by some natural volcanic eruption. He prepares for that
- eruption and when, for some reason or another, that elemental catastrophe
- is pre<span class="pagenum">119</span><a name="link119" id="link119"></a>vented
- he consoles himself by strewing the beach of his island with the battered
- corpses of his characters. It is in such a wanton conclusion, following as
- it does immediately upon the finest, strongest and most beautiful thing in
- the whole of Conrad—the last conversation between Heyst and Lena—that
- we see this above-mentioned divorce from reality. We see it again in the
- more fantastic characteristics of Mr Jones and Ricardo, in the presence of
- the Orang Outang, and in other smaller and less important effects. At the
- same time his realism, when he pleases, as in the arrival of the boat of
- the thirst maddened trio on the island beach, is as magnificent in its
- austerity and truth as ever it was.
- </p>
- <p>
- Will he allow his imagination to carry him wildly into fantasy and
- incredibility? He has not, during these last years, exerted the discipline
- and restraint that were once his law.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nevertheless, at the last, when one looks back over twenty years, from the
- <i>Almayer’s Folly</i> of 1895 to the <i>Victory</i> of 1915, one <span
- class="pagenum">120</span><a name="link120" id="link120"></a>realises that
- it was, for the English novel, no mean nor insignificant fortune that
- brought the author of those books to our shores to give a fresh impetus to
- the progress of our literature and to enrich our lives with a new world of
- character and high adventure.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- A SHORT BIBLIOGRAPHY OF JOSEPH CONRAD’S PRINCIPAL WRITINGS
- </h2>
- <p>
- [The date is given of the first edition of each hook. New edition
- signifies a change of format or transference to a different publisher.]
- </p>
- <p>
- Almayer’s Folly. A Story of an Eastern River (Unwin). 1895. New editions.
- (Nash). 1904; (Unwin). 1909, 1914, 1915.
- </p>
- <p>
- An Outcast of the Islands (Unwin). 1896, New edition, 1914.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Nigger of the “Narcissus”: A Tale of the Sea (Heinemann). 1897. New
- edition, 1910.
- </p>
- <p>
- Tales of Unrest (Unwin). 1898. New edition, 1909.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lord Jim: A Tale (Blackwood). 1900. New edition, 1914.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Inheritors: An Extravagant Story. By Joseph Conrad and Ford M. Hueffer
- (Heinemann). 1901.
- </p>
- <p>
- Youth: a Narrative, and Two Other Stories (Black wood). 1902.
- </p>
- <p>
- Typhoon and Other Stories (Heinemann). 1903. New edition, 1912.
- </p>
- <p>
- Romance: A Novel. By Joseph Conrad and Ford Madox Hueffer (Smith, Elder).
- 1903. New edition (Aelson). 1909.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard (Harder). 1904. The Mirror of the Sea:
- Memories and Impressions (Methuen). 1903. New editions, 1913, 1915. The
- Secret Agent: A Simple Tale (Methuen). 1907.
- </p>
- <p>
- New edition, 1914.
- </p>
- <p>
- A Set of Six: Tales (Methuen). 1908 Under Western Eyes (Methuen). 1911.
- New edition, 1915.
- </p>
- <p>
- Some Reminiscences (Nash). 1912.
- </p>
- <p>
- Twixt Land and Sea: Tales (Dent). 1912. New edition, 1914.
- </p>
- <p>
- Chance: A Tale in Two Parts (Methuen). 1914. Within the Tides: Tales
- (Dent). 1915.
- </p>
- <p>
- Victory: An Island Tale (Methuen). 1915.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- AMERICAN BIBLIOGRAPHY
- </h2>
- <p>
- <span class="pagenum">123</span><a name="link123" id="link123"></a>Almayer’s
- Folly: A Story of an Eastern River (<i>Macmillan</i>). 1895. New editions,
- 1912; (<i>Doubleday</i>). 1911.
- </p>
- <p>
- An Outcast of the Islands (<i>Appleton</i>). 1896. New edition (<i>Doubleday</i>).
- 1914.
- </p>
- <p>
- Children of the Sea: A Tale of the Forecastle (<i>Dodd, Mead</i>). 1897.
- New edition, 1912. New edition under English title: “The Nigger of the
- ‘Narcissus’” (<i>Doubleday</i>). 1914.
- </p>
- <p>
- Tales of Unrest (<i>Scribner</i>). 1898.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lord Jim (<i>Doubleday</i>) 1900. New edition, 1914.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Inheritors. By Joseph Conrad and Ford M. Hueffer (<i>McClure Co.</i>).
- 1901.
- </p>
- <p>
- Typhoon (<i>Putman</i>). 1902. New edition (<i>Doubleday</i>). 1914.
- </p>
- <p>
- Youth, and two Other Stories (<i>McClure Co</i>. Afterwards transferred to
- <i>Doubleday</i>). 1903.
- </p>
- <p>
- Falk: Amy Foster: Tomorrow [Three Stories] (<i>McClure Co.</i>). 1903. New
- edition (<i>Doubleday</i>). 1914.
- </p>
- <p>
- Romance. By Joseph Conrad and Ford Madox Hueffer (<i>McClure Co</i>.
- Afterwards transferred to <i>Doubleday</i>). 1904.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard (<i>Harper</i>), 1904. <span
- class="pagenum">124</span><a name="link124" id="link124"></a>The Mirror of
- the Sea: Memories and Impressions (<i>Harper</i>). 1906.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Secret Agent: A Simple Tale (<i>Harper</i>). 1907.
- </p>
- <p>
- A Point of Honour: A Military Tale (<i>McClure Co</i>. Afterwards
- transferred to <i>Doubleday</i>). 1908. Under Western Eyes: A Novel (<i>Harper</i>).
- 1911.
- </p>
- <p>
- A Personal Retold (<i>Harper</i>). 1912.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Twist Land and Sea: Tales (<i>Doran</i>). 1912. New edition (<i>Doubleday</i>).
- 1911.
- </p>
- <p>
- Chance: A Tale in Two Parts (<i>Doubleday</i>). 1914.
- </p>
- <p>
- A Set of Six [Tales: one, “The Duel.” previously issued as “A Point of
- Honour”] (<i>Doubleday</i>). 1915.
- </p>
- <p>
- Victory: An Island Tale (<i>Doubleday</i>). 1915.
- </p>
- <p>
- Within the Tides: Tales (<i>Doubleday</i>). 1916.
- </p>
-
-<p>
- <a name="linkindex" id="linkindex"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- INDEX
- </h2>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-
-
-
-_Almayer’s Folly_, <a href="#link009">9</a>, <a href="#link012">12</a>, <a
- href="#link013">13</a>, <a href="#link014">14</a>, <a href="#link022">22</a>, <a
- href="#link038">38</a>, <a href="#link075">75</a>, <a href="#link119">119</a>
-
-
-Bennett, Arnold, <a href="#link039">39</a>, <a href="#link083">83</a>
-Beresford, J. D., <a href="#link116">116</a>
-_Brothers Karamazov, The_, <a href="#link109">109</a>
-Browning, <a href="#link084">84</a>, <a href="#link101">101</a>, <a
- href="#link102">102</a>, <a href="#link103">103</a>, <a href="#link104">104</a>
-
-
-_Chance_, <a href="#link014">14</a>, <a href="#link016">16</a>, <a
- href="#link021">21</a>, <a href="#link043">43</a>, <a href="#link033">33</a>, <a
- href="#link056">56</a>, <a href="#link119">119</a>
-_Cherry Orchard, The_, <a href="#link060">60</a>, <a href="#link109">109</a>
-Chesterton, G. K., <a href="#link084">84</a>
-Conrad, J., birth, <a href="#link008">8</a>, naturalised, <a href="#link008">8</a>
-Curie, R., <a href="#link099">99</a>
-
-
-Dickens, <a href="#link085">85</a>
-Dostoievsky, <a href="#link020">20</a>, <a href="#link084">84</a>, <a
- href="#link113">113</a>, <a href="#link114">114</a>
-
-
-Eliot, George, <a href="#link085">85</a>
-_End of the Tether, The_, <a href="#link056">56</a>
-_Evan Harrington_, <a href="#link038">38</a>
-_Eve of St Agnes, The_, <a href="#link081">81</a>
-
-
-Flaubert, <a href="#link077">77</a>, <a href="#link114">114</a>
-Form, <a href="#link040">40</a>
-Forster, E. M., <a href="#link117">117</a>
-_Freya of the Seven Islands_, <a href="#link035">35</a>
-
-
-Galsworthy, J., <a href="#link059">59</a>
-George, W. L., <a href="#link116">116</a>
-
-
-Hardy, <a href="#link038">38</a>, <a href="#link059">59</a>, <a href="#link093">93</a>
-_Heart of Darkness_, <a href="#link017">17</a>, <a href="#link056">56</a>, <a
- href="#link075">75</a>, <a href="#link079">79</a>, <a href="#link081">81</a>
-Hueffer, F. M., <a href="#link014">14</a>
-
-
-Irony, <a href="#link055">55</a>
-
-
-James, Henry, <a href="#link038">38</a>, <a href="#link041">41</a>, <a
- href="#link042">42</a>, <a href="#link059">59</a>, <a href="#link110">110</a>
-
-
-Keats, <a href="#link081">81</a>
-Kipling, R., <a href="#link038">38</a>, <a href="#link110">110</a>
-
-
-_Lord Jim_, <a href="#link013">13</a>, <a href="#link016">16</a>, <a
- href="#link043">43</a>, <a href="#link056">56</a>, <a href="#link073">73</a>, <a
- href="#link080">80</a>
-Lyrical impulse, <a href="#link082">82</a>
-
-
-_Madame Bovary_, <a href="#link038">38</a>, <a href="#link077">77</a>,110
-Meredith, <a href="#link038">38</a>, <a href="#link084">84</a>
-Method in fiction, <a href="#link041">41</a>, <a href="#link048">48</a>, etc.
-Mid-Victorian English novel, <a href="#link058">58</a>
-_Mirror of the Sea, The_, <a href="#link016">16</a>, <a href="#link021">21</a>, <a
- href="#link027">27</a>, <a href="#link030">30</a>, <a href="#link032">32</a>
-
-
-Nature, <a href="#link078">78</a>
-_Nigger of the Narcissus_, The, <a href="#link013">13</a>, <a href="#link015">15</a>. 27, <a
- href="#link056">56</a>, <a href="#link063">63</a>, <a href="#link075">75</a>, <a
- href="#link086">86</a>
-_Nostrcmo_, <a href="#link014">14</a>, <a href="#link018">18</a>, <a
- href="#link043">43</a>, <a href="#link049">49</a>, <a href="#link056">56</a>, <a
- href="#link079">79</a>, <a href="#link090">90</a>, <a href="#link096">96</a>, <a
- href="#link097">97</a>, <a href="#link102">102</a>
-
-
-_Outcast of the Islands, An_, <a href="#link014">14</a>, <a href="#link019">19</a>, <a
- href="#link073">73</a>, <a href="#link079">79</a>, <a href="#link082">82</a>, <a
- href="#link085">85</a>
-
-
-Philosophy, <a href="#link057">57</a>
-Poland, <a href="#link009">9</a>, <a href="#link024">24</a>
-
-
-Realism. 108, <a href="#link110">110</a>
-_Return, The_, <a href="#link075">75</a>
-_Richard Feverel,_ 38
-_Romance_, <a href="#link014">14</a>, <a href="#link070">70</a>
-Romance, <a href="#link108">108</a>. Russian influence, <a href="#link109">109</a>, <a
- href="#link112">112</a>
-
-
-Sea, <a href="#link008">8</a>, <a href="#link028">28</a>
-_Secret Agent, The_, <a href="#link014">14</a>, <a href="#link019">19</a>, <a
- href="#link057">57</a>, <a href="#link072">72</a>, <a href="#link082">82</a>, <a
- href="#link103">103</a>
-_Secret Sharer, The_, <a href="#link020">20</a>
-_Set of Six, A_, <a href="#link020">20</a>, <a href="#link082">82</a>
-Shaw, Bernard. 39
-Ships, <a href="#link033">33</a>
-_Smile of Fortune, A_, <a href="#link020">20</a>
-_Some Réminiscences_, <a href="#link021">21</a>, <a href="#link022">22</a>, <a
- href="#link026">26</a>
-_Sordello_, <a href="#link102">102</a>
-_Spectator, The_, <a href="#link012">12</a>
-Stevenson, Robert Louis, <a href="#link038">38</a>, <a href="#link093">93</a>
-Style, <a href="#link082">82</a>
-Swinnerton, Frink, <a href="#link106">106</a>, <a href="#link107">107</a>, <a
- href="#link116">116</a>
-
-
-_Tales of Unrest_, <a href="#link015">15</a>, <a href="#link075">75</a>
-Tchekov, <a href="#link060">60</a>
-Themes, <a href="#link054">54</a>
-Tolstoi, <a href="#link114">114</a>
-_T. P.‘s Weekly_, <a href="#link018">18</a>
-_Trtmolino_, <a href="#link035">35</a>
-Trollope, Anthony, <a href="#link093">93</a>
-Turgeniev, <a href="#link020">20</a>, <a href="#link084">84</a>, <a
- href="#link114">114</a>
-_'Twixt Land and Sea_, <a href="#link020">20</a> 56
-_Typhoon_, <a href="#link014">14</a>, <a href="#link017">17</a>, <a
- href="#link030">30</a>, <a href="#link056">56</a>, <a href="#link061">61</a>, <a
- href="#link075">75</a>, <a href="#link079">79</a>, <a href="#link080">80</a>, <a
- href="#link082">82</a>
-
-
-_Under Western Eyes_, <a href="#link019">19</a>, <a href="#link057">57</a>, <a
- href="#link072">72</a>, <a href="#link082">82</a>
-_Une Vie_, <a href="#link038">38</a>
-
-
-_Victory_, <a href="#link014">14</a>, <a href="#link118">118</a>
-
-
-Wells, H. G., <a href="#link039">39</a>, <a href="#link059">59</a>, <a
- href="#link110">110</a>
-Wharton, Mrs, <a href="#link059">59</a>, <a href="#link083">83</a>
-Whitman, <a href="#link081">81</a>
-
-
-_Yellow Book, The_, <a href="#link038">38</a>
-_Youth_, <a href="#link014">14</a>, <a href="#link017">17</a>, <a href="#link030">30</a>, <a
- href="#link073">73</a>, <a href="#link079">79</a>, <a href="#link080">80</a>, <a
- href="#link082">82</a>
-
-</pre>
- <div style="height: 6em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
-End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Joseph Conrad, by Hugh Walpole
-
-*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOSEPH CONRAD ***
-
-***** This file should be named 52453-h.htm or 52453-h.zip *****
-This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
- http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/4/5/52453/
-
-Produced by David Widger from page images generously
-provided by the Internet Archive
-
-
-Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will
-be renamed.
-
-Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
-law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
-so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
-States without permission and without paying copyright
-royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
-of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
-Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
-concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
-and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive
-specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this
-eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook
-for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports,
-performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given
-away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks
-not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the
-trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.
-
-START: FULL LICENSE
-
-THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
-PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
-
-To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
-distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
-(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project
-Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
-Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at
-www.gutenberg.org/license.
-
-Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project
-Gutenberg-tm electronic works
-
-1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
-electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
-and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
-(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
-the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
-destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your
-possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
-Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
-by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the
-person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph
-1.E.8.
-
-1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be
-used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
-agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
-things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
-even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
-paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
-Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this
-agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm
-electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.
-
-1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the
-Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
-of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual
-works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
-States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
-United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
-claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
-displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
-all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
-that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting
-free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm
-works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
-Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily
-comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
-same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when
-you share it without charge with others.
-
-1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
-what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
-in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
-check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
-agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
-distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
-other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no
-representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
-country outside the United States.
-
-1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
-
-1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
-immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear
-prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work
-on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the
-phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed,
-performed, viewed, copied or distributed:
-
- This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
- most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
- restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
- under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
- eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
- United States, you’ll have to check the laws of the country where you
- are located before using this ebook.
-
-1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is
-derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
-contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
-copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
-the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
-redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project
-Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
-either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
-obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm
-trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
-
-1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
-with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
-must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
-additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
-will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works
-posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
-beginning of this work.
-
-1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
-License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
-work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
-
-1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
-electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
-prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
-active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
-Gutenberg-tm License.
-
-1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
-compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
-any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
-to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format
-other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official
-version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site
-(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
-to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
-of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain
-Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the
-full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
-
-1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
-performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
-unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
-
-1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
-access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
-provided that
-
-* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
- the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
- you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
- to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has
- agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
- Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
- within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
- legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
- payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
- Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
- Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
- Literary Archive Foundation.”
-
-* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
- you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
- does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
- License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
- copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
- all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm
- works.
-
-* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
- any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
- electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
- receipt of the work.
-
-* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
- distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
-
-1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
-Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than
-are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
-from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The
-Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm
-trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
-
-1.F.
-
-1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
-effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
-works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
-Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm
-electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
-contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
-or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
-intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
-other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
-cannot be read by your equipment.
-
-1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right
-of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
-Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
-Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
-Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
-liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
-fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
-LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
-PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
-TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
-LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
-INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
-DAMAGE.
-
-1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
-defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
-receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
-written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
-received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
-with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
-with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
-lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
-or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
-opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
-the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
-without further opportunities to fix the problem.
-
-1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
-in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO
-OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
-LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
-
-1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
-warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
-damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
-violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
-agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
-limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
-unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
-remaining provisions.
-
-1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
-trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
-providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in
-accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
-production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm
-electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
-including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
-the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
-or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or
-additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any
-Defect you cause.
-
-Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
-
-Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
-electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
-computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
-exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
-from people in all walks of life.
-
-Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
-assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s
-goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
-remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
-Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
-and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future
-generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
-Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
-Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at
-www.gutenberg.org Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg
-Literary Archive Foundation
-
-The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
-501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
-state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
-Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification
-number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
-Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
-U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.
-
-The Foundation’s principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the
-mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its
-volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous
-locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt
-Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to
-date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and
-official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
-
-For additional contact information:
-
- Dr. Gregory B. Newby
- Chief Executive and Director
- gbnewby@pglaf.org
-
-Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
-Literary Archive Foundation
-
-Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
-spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
-increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
-freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
-array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
-($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
-status with the IRS.
-
-The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
-charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
-States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
-considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
-with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
-where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
-DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular
-state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate
-
-While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
-have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
-against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
-approach us with offers to donate.
-
-International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
-any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
-outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
-
-Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
-methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
-ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
-donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate
-
-Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works.
-
-Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
-Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be
-freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
-distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of
-volunteer support.
-
-Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
-editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
-the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
-necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
-edition.
-
-Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search
-facility: www.gutenberg.org
-
-This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
-including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
-Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
-subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
- </body>
-</html>
|
