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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/687-0.txt b/687-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2c0d888 --- /dev/null +++ b/687-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4675 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Personal Record, by Joseph Conrad + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 + + +Title: A Personal Record + +Author: Joseph Conrad + +Release Date: January 9, 2006 [EBook #687] +Last Updated: March 2, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PERSONAL RECORD *** + + + + +Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger + + + + + +A PERSONAL RECORD + +By Joseph Conrad + + + +A FAMILIAR PREFACE + +As a general rule we do not want much encouragement to talk about +ourselves; yet this little book is the result of a friendly suggestion, +and even of a little friendly pressure. I defended myself with some +spirit; but, with characteristic tenacity, the friendly voice insisted, +“You know, you really must.” + +It was not an argument, but I submitted at once. If one must! . . . + +You perceive the force of a word. He who wants to persuade should put +his trust not in the right argument, but in the right word. The power of +sound has always been greater than the power of sense. I don't say this +by way of disparagement. It is better for mankind to be impressionable +than reflective. Nothing humanely great--great, I mean, as affecting a +whole mass of lives--has come from reflection. On the other hand, you +cannot fail to see the power of mere words; such words as Glory, for +instance, or Pity. I won't mention any more. They are not far to seek. +Shouted with perseverance, with ardour, with conviction, these two by +their sound alone have set whole nations in motion and upheaved the dry, +hard ground on which rests our whole social fabric. There's “virtue” + for you if you like! . . . Of course the accent must be attended to. The +right accent. That's very important. The capacious lung, the thundering +or the tender vocal chords. Don't talk to me of your Archimedes' lever. + +He was an absent-minded person with a mathematical imagination. +Mathematics commands all my respect, but I have no use for engines. Give +me the right word and the right accent and I will move the world. + +What a dream for a writer! Because written words have their accent, too. +Yes! Let me only find the right word! Surely it must be lying somewhere +among the wreckage of all the plaints and all the exultations poured out +aloud since the first day when hope, the undying, came down on earth. It +may be there, close by, disregarded, invisible, quite at hand. But +it's no good. I believe there are men who can lay hold of a needle in a +pottle of hay at the first try. For myself, I have never had such luck. +And then there is that accent. Another difficulty. For who is going to +tell whether the accent is right or wrong till the word is shouted, +and fails to be heard, perhaps, and goes down-wind, leaving the world +unmoved? Once upon a time there lived an emperor who was a sage and +something of a literary man. He jotted down on ivory tablets thoughts, +maxims, reflections which chance has preserved for the edification of +posterity. Among other sayings--I am quoting from memory--I remember +this solemn admonition: “Let all thy words have the accent of heroic +truth.” The accent of heroic truth! This is very fine, but I am thinking +that it is an easy matter for an austere emperor to jot down grandiose +advice. Most of the working truths on this earth are humble, not heroic; +and there have been times in the history of mankind when the accents of +heroic truth have moved it to nothing but derision. + +Nobody will expect to find between the covers of this little book words +of extraordinary potency or accents of irresistible heroism. However +humiliating for my self esteem, I must confess that the counsels of +Marcus Aurelius are not for me. They are more fit for a moralist than +for an artist. Truth of a modest sort I can promise you, and also +sincerity. That complete, praise worthy sincerity which, while it +delivers one into the hands of one's enemies, is as likely as not to +embroil one with one's friends. + +“Embroil” is perhaps too strong an expression. I can't imagine among +either my enemies or my friends a being so hard up for something to do +as to quarrel with me. “To disappoint one's friends” would be nearer the +mark. Most, almost all, friend ships of the writing period of my life +have come to me through my books; and I know that a novelist lives in +his work. He stands there, the only reality in an invented world, among +imaginary things, happenings, and people. Writing about them, he is only +writing about himself. But the disclosure is not complete. He remains, +to a certain extent, a figure behind the veil; a suspected rather than +a seen presence--a movement and a voice behind the draperies of fiction. +In these personal notes there is no such veil. And I cannot help +thinking of a passage in the “Imitation of Christ” where the ascetic +author, who knew life so profoundly, says that “there are persons +esteemed on their reputation who by showing themselves destroy the +opinion one had of them.” This is the danger incurred by an author of +fiction who sets out to talk about himself without disguise. + +While these reminiscent pages were appearing serially I was remonstrated +with for bad economy; as if such writing were a form of self-indulgence +wasting the substance of future volumes. It seems that I am not +sufficiently literary. Indeed, a man who never wrote a line for print +till he was thirty-six cannot bring himself to look upon his existence +and his experience, upon the sum of his thoughts, sensations, and +emotions, upon his memories and his regrets, and the whole possession +of his past, as only so much material for his hands. Once before, some +three years ago, when I published “The Mirror of the Sea,” a volume of +impressions and memories, the same remarks were made to me. Practical +remarks. But, truth to say, I have never understood the kind of thrift +they recommend. I wanted to pay my tribute to the sea, its ships and +its men, to whom I remain indebted for so much which has gone to make me +what I am. That seemed to me the only shape in which I could offer it to +their shades. There could not be a question in my mind of anything else. +It is quite possible that I am a bad economist; but it is certain that I +am incorrigible. + +Having matured in the surroundings and under the special conditions of +sea life, I have a special piety toward that form of my past; for its +impressions were vivid, its appeal direct, its demands such as could be +responded to with the natural elation of youth and strength equal to the +call. There was nothing in them to perplex a young conscience. Having +broken away from my origins under a storm of blame from every quarter +which had the merest shadow of right to voice an opinion, removed by +great distances from such natural affections as were still left to +me, and even estranged, in a measure, from them by the totally +unintelligible character of the life which had seduced me so +mysteriously from my allegiance, I may safely say that through the blind +force of circumstances the sea was to be all my world and the merchant +service my only home for a long succession of years. No wonder, then, +that in my two exclusively sea books--“The Nigger of the Narcissus,” and +“The Mirror of the Sea” (and in the few short sea stories like “Youth” + and “Typhoon”)--I have tried with an almost filial regard to render the +vibration of life in the great world of waters, in the hearts of the +simple men who have for ages traversed its solitudes, and also that +something sentient which seems to dwell in ships--the creatures of their +hands and the objects of their care. + +One's literary life must turn frequently for sustenance to memories and +seek discourse with the shades, unless one has made up one's mind to +write only in order to reprove mankind for what it is, or praise it for +what it is not, or--generally--to teach it how to behave. Being neither +quarrelsome, nor a flatterer, nor a sage, I have done none of these +things, and I am prepared to put up serenely with the insignificance +which attaches to persons who are not meddlesome in some way or other. +But resignation is not indifference. I would not like to be left +standing as a mere spectator on the bank of the great stream carrying +onward so many lives. I would fain claim for myself the faculty of so +much insight as can be expressed in a voice of sympathy and compassion. + +It seems to me that in one, at least, authoritative quarter of criticism +I am suspected of a certain unemotional, grim acceptance of facts--of +what the French would call _secheresse du coeur_. Fifteen years of +unbroken silence before praise or blame testify sufficiently to my +respect for criticism, that fine flower of personal expression in the +garden of letters. But this is more of a personal matter, reaching the +man behind the work, and therefore it may be alluded to in a volume +which is a personal note in the margin of the public page. Not that +I feel hurt in the least. The charge--if it amounted to a charge at +all--was made in the most considerate terms; in a tone of regret. + +My answer is that if it be true that every novel contains an element of +autobiography--and this can hardly be denied, since the creator can only +express himself in his creation--then there are some of us to whom an +open display of sentiment is repugnant. + +I would not unduly praise the virtue of restraint. It is often merely +temperamental. But it is not always a sign of coldness. It may be pride. +There can be nothing more humiliating than to see the shaft of one's +emotion miss the mark of either laughter or tears. Nothing more +humiliating! And this for the reason that should the mark be missed, +should the open display of emotion fail to move, then it must perish +unavoidably in disgust or contempt. No artist can be reproached for +shrinking from a risk which only fools run to meet and only genius dare +confront with impunity. In a task which mainly consists in laying one's +soul more or less bare to the world, a regard for decency, even at +the cost of success, is but the regard for one's own dignity which is +inseparably united with the dignity of one's work. + +And then--it is very difficult to be wholly joyous or wholly sad on this +earth. The comic, when it is human, soon takes upon itself a face of +pain; and some of our griefs (some only, not all, for it is the capacity +for suffering which makes man August in the eyes of men) have their +source in weaknesses which must be recognized with smiling com passion +as the common inheritance of us all. Joy and sorrow in this world pass +into each other, mingling their forms and their murmurs in the twilight +of life as mysterious as an over shadowed ocean, while the dazzling +brightness of supreme hopes lies far off, fascinating and still, on the +distant edge of the horizon. + +Yes! I, too, would like to hold the magic wand giving that command over +laughter and tears which is declared to be the highest achievement of +imaginative literature. Only, to be a great magician one must surrender +oneself to occult and irresponsible powers, either outside or within +one's breast. We have all heard of simple men selling their souls for +love or power to some grotesque devil. The most ordinary intelligence +can perceive without much reflection that anything of the sort is bound +to be a fool's bargain. I don't lay claim to particular wisdom because +of my dislike and distrust of such transactions. It may be my sea +training acting upon a natural disposition to keep good hold on the +one thing really mine, but the fact is that I have a positive horror of +losing even for one moving moment that full possession of my self which +is the first condition of good service. And I have carried my notion of +good service from my earlier into my later existence. I, who have never +sought in the written word anything else but a form of the Beautiful--I +have carried over that article of creed from the decks of ships to the +more circumscribed space of my desk, and by that act, I suppose, I have +become permanently imperfect in the eyes of the ineffable company of +pure esthetes. + +As in political so in literary action a man wins friends for himself +mostly by the passion of his prejudices and by the consistent narrowness +of his outlook. But I have never been able to love what was not +lovable or hate what was not hateful out of deference for some general +principle. Whether there be any courage in making this admission I know +not. After the middle turn of life's way we consider dangers and joys +with a tranquil mind. So I proceed in peace to declare that I have +always suspected in the effort to bring into play the extremities of +emotions the debasing touch of insincerity. In order to move others +deeply we must deliberately allow ourselves to be carried away beyond +the bounds of our normal sensibility--innocently enough, perhaps, and +of necessity, like an actor who raises his voice on the stage above the +pitch of natural conversation--but still we have to do that. And surely +this is no great sin. But the danger lies in the writer becoming the +victim of his own exaggeration, losing the exact notion of sincerity, +and in the end coming to despise truth itself as something too cold, too +blunt for his purpose--as, in fact, not good enough for his insistent +emotion. From laughter and tears the descent is easy to snivelling and +giggles. + +These may seem selfish considerations; but you can't, in sound morals, +condemn a man for taking care of his own integrity. It is his clear +duty. And least of all can you condemn an artist pursuing, however +humbly and imperfectly, a creative aim. In that interior world where +his thought and his emotions go seeking for the experience of imagined +adventures, there are no policemen, no law, no pressure of circumstance +or dread of opinion to keep him within bounds. Who then is going to say +Nay to his temptations if not his conscience? + +And besides--this, remember, is the place and the moment of perfectly +open talk--I think that all ambitions are lawful except those which +climb upward on the miseries or credulities of mankind. All intellectual +and artistic ambitions are permissible, up to and even beyond the limit +of prudent sanity. They can hurt no one. If they are mad, then so +much the worse for the artist. Indeed, as virtue is said to be, such +ambitions are their own reward. Is it such a very mad presumption to +believe in the sovereign power of one's art, to try for other means, for +other ways of affirming this belief in the deeper appeal of one's work? +To try to go deeper is not to be insensible. A historian of hearts is +not a historian of emotions, yet he penetrates further, restrained as he +may be, since his aim is to reach the very fount of laughter and tears. +The sight of human affairs deserves admiration and pity. They are +worthy of respect, too. And he is not insensible who pays them the +undemonstrative tribute of a sigh which is not a sob, and of a smile +which is not a grin. Resignation, not mystic, not detached, but +resignation open-eyed, conscious, and informed by love, is the only one +of our feelings for which it is impossible to become a sham. + +Not that I think resignation the last word of wisdom. I am too much the +creature of my time for that. But I think that the proper wisdom is to +will what the gods will without, perhaps, being certain what their will +is--or even if they have a will of their own. And in this matter of life +and art it is not the Why that matters so much to our happiness as the +How. As the Frenchman said, “_Il y a toujours la maniere_.” Very true. +Yes. There is the manner. The manner in laughter, in tears, in irony, in +indignations and enthusiasms, in judgments--and even in love. The manner +in which, as in the features and character of a human face, the inner +truth is foreshadowed for those who know how to look at their kind. + +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, among 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. The revolutionary spirit is mighty convenient in this, that +it frees one from all scruples as regards ideas. Its hard, absolute +optimism is repulsive to my mind by the menace of fanaticism and +intolerance it contains. No doubt one should smile at these things; but, +imperfect Esthete, I am no better Philosopher. + +All claim to special righteousness awakens in me that scorn and danger +from which a philosophical mind should be free. . . . + +I fear that trying to be conversational I have only managed to be unduly +discursive. I have never been very well acquainted with the art of +conversation--that art which, I understand, is supposed to be lost now. +My young days, the days when one's habits and character are formed, have +been rather familiar with long silences. Such voices as broke into them +were anything but conversational. No. I haven't got the habit. Yet +this discursiveness is not so irrelevant to the handful of pages which +follow. They, too, have been charged with discursiveness, with +disregard of chronological order (which is in itself a crime), with +unconventionality of form (which is an impropriety). I was told severely +that the public would view with displeasure the informal character of +my recollections. “Alas!” I protested, mildly. “Could I begin with the +sacramental words, 'I was born on such a date in such a place'? The +remoteness of the locality would have robbed the statement of all +interest. I haven't lived through wonderful adventures to be related +seriatim. I haven't known distinguished men on whom I could pass fatuous +remarks. I haven't been mixed up with great or scandalous affairs. This +is but a bit of psychological document, and even so, I haven't written +it with a view to put forward any conclusion of my own.” + +But my objector was not placated. These were good reasons for not +writing at all--not a defense of what stood written already, he said. + +I admit that almost anything, anything in the world, would serve as a +good reason for not writing at all. But since I have written them, all I +want to say in their defense is that these memories put down without +any regard for established conventions have not been thrown off without +system and purpose. They have their hope and their aim. The hope that +from the reading of these pages there may emerge at last the vision of +a personality; the man behind the books so fundamentally dissimilar +as, for instance, “Almayer's Folly” and “The Secret Agent,” and yet a +coherent, justifiable personality both in its origin and in its action. +This is the hope. The immediate aim, closely associated with the hope, +is to give the record of personal memories by presenting faithfully the +feelings and sensations connected with the writing of my first book and +with my first contact with the sea. + +In the purposely mingled resonance of this double strain a friend here +and there will perhaps detect a subtle accord. + +J. C. K. + + + + +A PERSONAL RECORD + +I + +Books may be written in all sorts of places. Verbal inspiration may +enter the berth of a mariner on board a ship frozen fast in a river in +the middle of a town; and since saints are supposed to look benignantly +on humble believers, I indulge in the pleasant fancy that the shade +of old Flaubert--who imagined himself to be (among other things) a +descendant of Vikings--might have hovered with amused interest over +the docks of a 2,000-ton steamer called the Adowa, on board of which, +gripped by the inclement winter alongside a quay in Rouen, the tenth +chapter of “Almayer's Folly” was begun. With interest, I say, for was +not the kind Norman giant with enormous mustaches and a thundering voice +the last of the Romantics? Was he not, in his unworldly, almost ascetic, +devotion to his art, a sort of literary, saint-like hermit? + +“'It has set at last,' said Nina to her mother, pointing to the hills +behind which the sun had sunk.” . . . These words of Almayer's romantic +daughter I remember tracing on the gray paper of a pad which rested on +the blanket of my bed-place. They referred to a sunset in Malayan Isles +and shaped themselves in my mind, in a hallucinated vision of forests +and rivers and seas, far removed from a commercial and yet romantic town +of the northern hemisphere. But at that moment the mood of visions and +words was cut short by the third officer, a cheerful and casual youth, +coming in with a bang of the door and the exclamation: “You've made it +jolly warm in here.” + +It was warm. I had turned on the steam heater after placing a tin under +the leaky water-cock--for perhaps you do not know that water will leak +where steam will not. I am not aware of what my young friend had +been doing on deck all that morning, but the hands he rubbed together +vigorously were very red and imparted to me a chilly feeling by their +mere aspect. He has remained the only banjoist of my acquaintance, and +being also a younger son of a retired colonel, the poem of Mr. Kipling, +by a strange aberration of associated ideas, always seems to me to have +been written with an exclusive view to his person. When he did not +play the banjo he loved to sit and look at it. He proceeded to this +sentimental inspection, and after meditating a while over the strings +under my silent scrutiny inquired, airily: + +“What are you always scribbling there, if it's fair to ask?” + +It was a fair enough question, but I did not answer him, and simply +turned the pad over with a movement of instinctive secrecy: I could not +have told him he had put to flight the psychology of Nina Almayer, her +opening speech of the tenth chapter, and the words of Mrs. Almayer's +wisdom which were to follow in the ominous oncoming of a tropical night. +I could not have told him that Nina had said, “It has set at last.” + He would have been extremely surprised and perhaps have dropped his +precious banjo. Neither could I have told him that the sun of my +sea-going was setting, too, even as I wrote the words expressing the +impatience of passionate youth bent on its desire. I did not know this +myself, and it is safe to say he would not have cared, though he was an +excellent young fellow and treated me with more deference than, in our +relative positions, I was strictly entitled to. + +He lowered a tender gaze on his banjo, and I went on looking through the +port-hole. The round opening framed in its brass rim a fragment of the +quays, with a row of casks ranged on the frozen ground and the tail end +of a great cart. A red-nosed carter in a blouse and a woollen night-cap +leaned against the wheel. An idle, strolling custom house guard, belted +over his blue capote, had the air of being depressed by exposure to the +weather and the monotony of official existence. The background of grimy +houses found a place in the picture framed by my port-hole, across a +wide stretch of paved quay brown with frozen mud. The colouring +was sombre, and the most conspicuous feature was a little cafe with +curtained windows and a shabby front of white woodwork, corresponding +with the squalor of these poorer quarters bordering the river. We had +been shifted down there from another berth in the neighbourhood of the +Opera House, where that same port-hole gave me a view of quite another +sort of cafe--the best in the town, I believe, and the very one where +the worthy Bovary and his wife, the romantic daughter of old Pere +Renault, had some refreshment after the memorable performance of an +opera which was the tragic story of Lucia di Lammermoor in a setting of +light music. + +I could recall no more the hallucination of the Eastern Archipelago +which I certainly hoped to see again. The story of “Almayer's Folly” + got put away under the pillow for that day. I do not know that I had any +occupation to keep me away from it; the truth of the matter is that on +board that ship we were leading just then a contemplative life. I +will not say anything of my privileged position. I was there “just to +oblige,” as an actor of standing may take a small part in the benefit +performance of a friend. + +As far as my feelings were concerned I did not wish to be in that +steamer at that time and in those circumstances. And perhaps I was not +even wanted there in the usual sense in which a ship “wants” an +officer. It was the first and last instance in my sea life when I served +ship-owners who have remained completely shadowy to my apprehension. I +do not mean this for the well-known firm of London ship-brokers which +had chartered the ship to the, I will not say short-lived, but ephemeral +Franco-Canadian Transport Company. A death leaves something behind, +but there was never anything tangible left from the F. C. T. C. It +flourished no longer than roses live, and unlike the roses it blossomed +in the dead of winter, emitted a sort of faint perfume of adventure, and +died before spring set in. But indubitably it was a company, it had even +a house-flag, all white with the letters F. C. T. C. artfully tangled +up in a complicated monogram. We flew it at our mainmast head, and now +I have come to the conclusion that it was the only flag of its kind in +existence. All the same we on board, for many days, had the impression +of being a unit of a large fleet with fortnightly departures for +Montreal and Quebec as advertised in pamphlets and prospectuses which +came aboard in a large package in Victoria Dock, London, just before we +started for Rouen, France. And in the shadowy life of the F. C. T. C. +lies the secret of that, my last employment in my calling, which in a +remote sense interrupted the rhythmical development of Nina Almayer's +story. + +The then secretary of the London Shipmasters' Society, with its modest +rooms in Fenchurch Street, was a man of indefatigable activity and the +greatest devotion to his task. He is responsible for what was my last +association with a ship. I call it that because it can hardly be called +a sea-going experience. Dear Captain Froud--it is impossible not to +pay him the tribute of affectionate familiarity at this distance of +years--had very sound views as to the advancement of knowledge and +status for the whole body of the officers of the mercantile marine. He +organized for us courses of professional lectures, St. John ambulance +classes, corresponded industriously with public bodies and members of +Parliament on subjects touching the interests of the service; and as to +the oncoming of some inquiry or commission relating to matters of the +sea and to the work of seamen, it was a perfect godsend to his need of +exerting himself on our corporate behalf. Together with this high sense +of his official duties he had in him a vein of personal kindness, a +strong disposition to do what good he could to the individual members of +that craft of which in his time he had been a very excellent master. And +what greater kindness can one do to a seaman than to put him in the way +of employment? Captain Froud did not see why the Shipmasters' Society, +besides its general guardianship of our interests, should not be +unofficially an employment agency of the very highest class. + +“I am trying to persuade all our great ship-owning firms to come to +us for their men. There is nothing of a trade-union spirit about our +society, and I really don't see why they should not,” he said once +to me. “I am always telling the captains, too, that, all things being +equal, they ought to give preference to the members of the society. +In my position I can generally find for them what they want among our +members or our associate members.” + +In my wanderings about London from west to east and back again (I was +very idle then) the two little rooms in Fenchurch Street were a sort +of resting-place where my spirit, hankering after the sea, could feel +itself nearer to the ships, the men, and the life of its choice--nearer +there than on any other spot of the solid earth. This resting-place used +to be, at about five o'clock in the afternoon, full of men and tobacco +smoke, but Captain Froud had the smaller room to himself and there +he granted private interviews, whose principal motive was to render +service. Thus, one murky November afternoon he beckoned me in with a +crooked finger and that peculiar glance above his spectacles which is +perhaps my strongest physical recollection of the man. + +“I have had in here a shipmaster, this morning,” he said, getting back +to his desk and motioning me to a chair, “who is in want of an officer. +It's for a steamship. You know, nothing pleases me more than to be +asked, but, unfortunately, I do not quite see my way . . .” + +As the outer room was full of men I cast a wondering glance at the +closed door; but he shook his head. + +“Oh, yes, I should be only too glad to get that berth for one of them. +But the fact of the matter is, the captain of that ship wants an officer +who can speak French fluently, and that's not so easy to find. I do +not know anybody myself but you. It's a second officer's berth and, of +course, you would not care . . . would you now? I know that it isn't +what you are looking for.” + +It was not. I had given myself up to the idleness of a haunted man who +looks for nothing but words wherein to capture his visions. But I admit +that outwardly I resembled sufficiently a man who could make a second +officer for a steamer chartered by a French company. I showed no sign +of being haunted by the fate of Nina and by the murmurs of tropical +forests; and even my intimate intercourse with Almayer (a person of weak +character) had not put a visible mark upon my features. For many years +he and the world of his story had been the companions of my imagination +without, I hope, impairing my ability to deal with the realities of +sea life. I had had the man and his surroundings with me ever since my +return from the eastern waters--some four years before the day of which +I speak. + +It was in the front sitting-room of furnished apartments in a Pimlico +square that they first began to live again with a vividness and +poignancy quite foreign to our former real intercourse. I had been +treating myself to a long stay on shore, and in the necessity of +occupying my mornings Almayer (that old acquaintance) came nobly to the +rescue. + +Before long, as was only proper, his wife and daughter joined him round +my table, and then the rest of that Pantai band came full of words +and gestures. Unknown to my respectable landlady, it was my practice +directly after my breakfast to hold animated receptions of Malays, +Arabs, and half-castes. They did not clamour aloud for my attention. +They came with a silent and irresistible appeal--and the appeal, I +affirm here, was not to my self-love or my vanity. It seems now to have +had a moral character, for why should the memory of these beings, seen +in their obscure, sun-bathed existence, demand to express itself in the +shape of a novel, except on the ground of that mysterious fellowship +which unites in a community of hopes and fears all the dwellers on this +earth? + +I did not receive my visitors with boisterous rapture as the bearers +of any gifts of profit or fame. There was no vision of a printed book +before me as I sat writing at that table, situated in a decayed part of +Belgravia. After all these years, each leaving its evidence of slowly +blackened pages, I can honestly say that it is a sentiment akin to pity +which prompted me to render in words assembled with conscientious care +the memory of things far distant and of men who had lived. + +But, coming back to Captain Froud and his fixed idea of never +disappointing ship owners or ship-captains, it was not likely that I +should fail him in his ambition--to satisfy at a few hours' notice the +unusual demand for a French-speaking officer. He explained to me that +the ship was chartered by a French company intending to establish a +regular monthly line of sailings from Rouen, for the transport of French +emigrants to Canada. But, frankly, this sort of thing did not interest +me very much. I said gravely that if it were really a matter of keeping +up the reputation of the Shipmasters' Society I would consider it. But +the consideration was just for form's sake. The next day I interviewed +the captain, and I believe we were impressed favourably with each other. +He explained that his chief mate was an excellent man in every respect +and that he could not think of dismissing him so as to give me the +higher position; but that if I consented to come as second officer I +would be given certain special advantages--and so on. + +I told him that if I came at all the rank really did not matter. + +“I am sure,” he insisted, “you will get on first rate with Mr. Paramor.” + +I promised faithfully to stay for two trips at least, and it was in +those circumstances that what was to be my last connection with a ship +began. And after all there was not even one single trip. It may be +that it was simply the fulfilment of a fate, of that written word on my +forehead which apparently forbade me, through all my sea wanderings, +ever to achieve the crossing of the Western Ocean--using the words in +that special sense in which sailors speak of Western Ocean trade, +of Western Ocean packets, of Western Ocean hard cases. The new life +attended closely upon the old, and the nine chapters of “Almayer's +Folly” went with me to the Victoria Dock, whence in a few days we +started for Rouen. I won't go so far as saying that the engaging of a +man fated never to cross the Western Ocean was the absolute cause of +the Franco-Canadian Transport Company's failure to achieve even a single +passage. It might have been that of course; but the obvious, gross +obstacle was clearly the want of money. Four hundred and sixty bunks +for emigrants were put together in the 'tween decks by industrious +carpenters while we lay in the Victoria Dock, but never an emigrant +turned up in Rouen--of which, being a humane person, I confess I was +glad. Some gentlemen from Paris--I think there were three of them, and +one was said to be the chairman--turned up, indeed, and went from end +to end of the ship, knocking their silk hats cruelly against the deck +beams. I attended them personally, and I can vouch for it that the +interest they took in things was intelligent enough, though, obviously, +they had never seen anything of the sort before. Their faces as they +went ashore wore a cheerfully inconclusive expression. Notwithstanding +that this inspecting ceremony was supposed to be a preliminary to +immediate sailing, it was then, as they filed down our gangway, that I +received the inward monition that no sailing within the meaning of our +charter party would ever take place. + +It must be said that in less than three weeks a move took place. When +we first arrived we had been taken up with much ceremony well toward the +centre of the town, and, all the street corners being placarded with +the tricolor posters announcing the birth of our company, the petit +bourgeois with his wife and family made a Sunday holiday from the +inspection of the ship. I was always in evidence in my best uniform to +give information as though I had been a Cook's tourists' interpreter, +while our quartermasters reaped a harvest of small change from +personally conducted parties. But when the move was made--that move +which carried us some mile and a half down the stream to be tied up to +an altogether muddier and shabbier quay--then indeed the desolation of +solitude became our lot. It was a complete and soundless stagnation; for +as we had the ship ready for sea to the smallest detail, as the frost +was hard and the days short, we were absolutely idle--idle to the point +of blushing with shame when the thought struck us that all the time our +salaries went on. Young Cole was aggrieved because, as he said, we could +not enjoy any sort of fun in the evening after loafing like this all +day; even the banjo lost its charm since there was nothing to prevent +his strumming on it all the time between the meals. The good Paramor--he +was really a most excellent fellow--became unhappy as far as was +possible to his cheery nature, till one dreary day I suggested, out of +sheer mischief, that he should employ the dormant energies of the crew +in hauling both cables up on deck and turning them end for end. + +For a moment Mr. Paramor was radiant. “Excellent idea!” but directly +his face fell. “Why . . . Yes! But we can't make that job last more +than three days,” he muttered, discontentedly. I don't know how long he +expected us to be stuck on the riverside outskirts of Rouen, but I know +that the cables got hauled up and turned end for end according to my +satanic suggestion, put down again, and their very existence utterly +forgotten, I believe, before a French river pilot came on board to take +our ship down, empty as she came, into the Havre roads. You may think +that this state of forced idleness favoured some advance in the fortunes +of Almayer and his daughter. Yet it was not so. As if it were some sort +of evil spell, my banjoist cabin mate's interruption, as related above, +had arrested them short at the point of that fateful sunset for many +weeks together. It was always thus with this book, begun in '89 and +finished in '94--with that shortest of all the novels which it was to be +my lot to write. Between its opening exclamation calling Almayer to his +dinner in his wife's voice and Abdullah's (his enemy) mental reference +to the God of Islam--“The Merciful, the Compassionate”--which closes the +book, there were to come several long sea passages, a visit (to use the +elevated phraseology suitable to the occasion) to the scenes (some of +them) of my childhood and the realization of childhood's vain words, +expressing a light-hearted and romantic whim. + +It was in 1868, when nine years old or thereabouts, that while looking +at a map of Africa of the time and putting my finger on the blank space +then representing the unsolved mystery of that continent, I said to +myself, with absolute assurance and an amazing audacity which are no +longer in my character now: + +“When I grow up I shall go _there_.” + +And of course I thought no more about it till after a quarter of a +century or so an opportunity offered to go there--as if the sin of +childish audacity were to be visited on my mature head. Yes. I did go +there: _there_ being the region of Stanley Falls, which in '68 was the +blankest of blank spaces on the earth's figured surface. And the MS. +of “Almayer's Folly,” carried about me as if it were a talisman or a +treasure, went _there_, too. That it ever came out of _there_ seems +a special dispensation of Providence, because a good many of my other +properties, infinitely more valuable and useful to me, remained behind +through unfortunate accidents of transportation. I call to mind, for +instance, a specially awkward turn of the Congo between Kinchassa and +Leopoldsville--more particularly when one had to take it at night in +a big canoe with only half the proper number of paddlers. I failed in +being the second white man on record drowned at that interesting spot +through the upsetting of a canoe. The first was a young Belgian officer, +but the accident happened some months before my time, and he, too, I +believe, was going home; not perhaps quite so ill as myself--but still +he was going home. I got round the turn more or less alive, though I +was too sick to care whether I did or not, and, always with “Almayer's +Folly” among my diminishing baggage, I arrived at that delectable +capital, Boma, where, before the departure of the steamer which was to +take me home, I had the time to wish myself dead over and over again +with perfect sincerity. At that date there were in existence only seven +chapters of “Almayer's Folly,” but the chapter in my history which +followed was that of a long, long illness and very dismal convalescence. +Geneva, or more precisely the hydropathic establishment of Champel, is +rendered forever famous by the termination of the eighth chapter in +the history of Almayer's decline and fall. The events of the ninth are +inextricably mixed up with the details of the proper management of a +waterside warehouse owned by a certain city firm whose name does not +matter. But that work, undertaken to accustom myself again to the +activities of a healthy existence, soon came to an end. The earth had +nothing to hold me with for very long. And then that memorable story, +like a cask of choice Madeira, got carried for three years to and fro +upon the sea. Whether this treatment improved its flavour or not, of +course I would not like to say. As far as appearance is concerned it +certainly did nothing of the kind. The whole MS. acquired a faded look +and an ancient, yellowish complexion. It became at last unreasonable +to suppose that anything in the world would ever happen to Almayer and +Nina. And yet something most unlikely to happen on the high seas was to +wake them up from their state of suspended animation. + +What is it that Novalis says: “It is certain my conviction gains +infinitely the moment another soul will believe in it.” And what is a +novel if not a conviction of our fellow-men's existence strong enough to +take upon itself a form of imagined life clearer than reality and whose +accumulated verisimilitude of selected episodes puts to shame the pride +of documentary history. Providence which saved my MS. from the Congo +rapids brought it to the knowledge of a helpful soul far out on the open +sea. It would be on my part the greatest ingratitude ever to forget the +sallow, sunken face and the deep-set, dark eyes of the young Cambridge +man (he was a “passenger for his health” on board the good ship Torrens +outward bound to Australia) who was the first reader of “Almayer's +Folly”--the very first reader I ever had. + +“Would it bore you very much in reading a MS. in a handwriting like +mine?” I asked him one evening, on a sudden impulse at the end of a +longish conversation whose subject was Gibbon's History. + +Jacques (that was his name) was sitting in my cabin one stormy dog-watch +below, after bring me a book to read from his own travelling store. + +“Not at all,” he answered, with his courteous intonation and a faint +smile. As I pulled a drawer open his suddenly aroused curiosity gave him +a watchful expression. I wonder what he expected to see. A poem, maybe. +All that's beyond guessing now. + +He was not a cold, but a calm man, still more subdued by disease--a man +of few words and of an unassuming modesty in general intercourse, but +with something uncommon in the whole of his person which set him apart +from the undistinguished lot of our sixty passengers. His eyes had a +thoughtful, introspective look. In his attractive reserved manner and in +a veiled sympathetic voice he asked: + +“What is this?” “It is a sort of tale,” I answered, with an effort. “It +is not even finished yet. Nevertheless, I would like to know what you +think of it.” He put the MS. in the breast-pocket of his jacket; I +remember perfectly his thin, brown fingers folding it lengthwise. “I +will read it to-morrow,” he remarked, seizing the door handle; and then +watching the roll of the ship for a propitious moment, he opened the +door and was gone. In the moment of his exit I heard the sustained +booming of the wind, the swish of the water on the decks of the Torrens, +and the subdued, as if distant, roar of the rising sea. I noted the +growing disquiet in the great restlessness of the ocean, and responded +professionally to it with the thought that at eight o'clock, in another +half hour or so at the farthest, the topgallant sails would have to come +off the ship. + +Next day, but this time in the first dog watch, Jacques entered my +cabin. He had a thick woollen muffler round his throat, and the MS. +was in his hand. He tendered it to me with a steady look, but without +a word. I took it in silence. He sat down on the couch and still said +nothing. I opened and shut a drawer under my desk, on which a filled-up +log-slate lay wide open in its wooden frame waiting to be copied neatly +into the sort of book I was accustomed to write with care, the ship's +log-book. I turned my back squarely on the desk. And even then Jacques +never offered a word. “Well, what do you say?” I asked at last. “Is +it worth finishing?” This question expressed exactly the whole of my +thoughts. + +“Distinctly,” he answered, in his sedate, veiled voice, and then coughed +a little. + +“Were you interested?” I inquired further, almost in a whisper. + +“Very much!” + +In a pause I went on meeting instinctively the heavy rolling of the +ship, and Jacques put his feet upon the couch. The curtain of my +bed-place swung to and fro as if it were a punkah, the bulkhead lamp +circled in its gimbals, and now and then the cabin door rattled slightly +in the gusts of wind. It was in latitude 40 south, and nearly in the +longitude of Greenwich, as far as I can remember, that these quiet rites +of Almayer's and Nina's resurrection were taking place. In the prolonged +silence it occurred to me that there was a good deal of retrospective +writing in the story as far as it went. Was it intelligible in its +action, I asked myself, as if already the story-teller were being +born into the body of a seaman. But I heard on deck the whistle of the +officer of the watch and remained on the alert to catch the order that +was to follow this call to attention. It reached me as a faint, fierce +shout to “Square the yards.” “Aha!” I thought to myself, “a westerly +blow coming on.” Then I turned to my very first reader, who, alas! was +not to live long enough to know the end of the tale. + +“Now let me ask you one more thing: is the story quite clear to you as +it stands?” + +He raised his dark, gentle eyes to my face and seemed surprised. + +“Yes! Perfectly.” + +This was all I was to hear from his lips concerning the merits of +“Almayer's Folly.” We never spoke together of the book again. A long +period of bad weather set in and I had no thoughts left but for my +duties, while poor Jacques caught a fatal cold and had to keep close in +his cabin. When we arrived in Adelaide the first reader of my prose +went at once up-country, and died rather suddenly in the end, either in +Australia or it may be on the passage while going home through the Suez +Canal. I am not sure which it was now, and I do not think I ever heard +precisely; though I made inquiries about him from some of our return +passengers who, wandering about to “see the country” during the ship's +stay in port, had come upon him here and there. At last we sailed, +homeward bound, and still not one line was added to the careless scrawl +of the many pages which poor Jacques had had the patience to read with +the very shadows of Eternity gathering already in the hollows of his +kind, steadfast eyes. + +The purpose instilled into me by his simple and final “Distinctly” + remained dormant, yet alive to await its opportunity. I dare say I am +compelled--unconsciously compelled--now to write volume after volume, as +in past years I was compelled to go to sea voyage after voyage. Leaves +must follow upon one another as leagues used to follow in the days +gone by, on and on to the appointed end, which, being Truth itself, is +One--one for all men and for all occupations. + +I do not know which of the two impulses has appeared more mysterious and +more wonderful to me. Still, in writing, as in going to sea, I had to +wait my opportunity. Let me confess here that I was never one of those +wonderful fellows that would go afloat in a wash-tub for the sake of the +fun, and if I may pride myself upon my consistency, it was ever just +the same with my writing. Some men, I have heard, write in railway +carriages, and could do it, perhaps, sitting crossed-legged on a +clothes-line; but I must confess that my sybaritic disposition will not +consent to write without something at least resembling a chair. Line by +line, rather than page by page, was the growth of “Almayer's Folly.” + +And so it happened that I very nearly lost the MS., advanced now to the +first words of the ninth chapter, in the Friedrichstrasse Poland, or +more precisely to Ukraine. On an early, sleepy morning changing trains +in a hurry I left my Gladstone bag in a refreshment-room. A worthy +and intelligent Koffertrager rescued it. Yet in my anxiety I was not +thinking of the MS., but of all the other things that were packed in the +bag. + +In Warsaw, where I spent two days, those wandering pages were never +exposed to the light, except once to candle-light, while the bag lay +open on the chair. I was dressing hurriedly to dine at a sporting club. +A friend of my childhood (he had been in the Diplomatic Service, but +had turned to growing wheat on paternal acres, and we had not seen each +other for over twenty years) was sitting on the hotel sofa waiting to +carry me off there. + +“You might tell me something of your life while you are dressing,” he +suggested, kindly. + +I do not think I told him much of my life story either then or later. +The talk of the select little party with which he made me dine was +extremely animated and embraced most subjects under heaven, from +big-game shooting in Africa to the last poem published in a very +modernist review, edited by the very young and patronized by the highest +society. But it never touched upon “Almayer's Folly,” and next morning, +in uninterrupted obscurity, this inseparable companion went on rolling +with me in the southeast direction toward the government of Kiev. + +At that time there was an eight hours' drive, if not more, from the +railway station to the country-house which was my destination. + +“Dear boy” (these words were always written in English), so ran the last +letter from that house received in London--“Get yourself driven to the +only inn in the place, dine as well as you can, and some time in the +evening my own confidential servant, factotum and majordomo, a Mr. V. S. +(I warn you he is of noble extraction), will present himself before you, +reporting the arrival of the small sledge which will take you here on +the next day. I send with him my heaviest fur, which I suppose with such +overcoats as you may have with you will keep you from freezing on the +road.” + +Sure enough, as I was dining, served by a Hebrew waiter, in an enormous +barn-like bedroom with a freshly painted floor, the door opened and, in +a travelling costume of long boots, big sheepskin cap, and a short coat +girt with a leather belt, the Mr. V. S. (of noble extraction), a man of +about thirty-five, appeared with an air of perplexity on his open +and mustached countenance. I got up from the table and greeted him in +Polish, with, I hope, the right shade of consideration demanded by his +noble blood and his confidential position. His face cleared up in a +wonderful way. It appeared that, notwithstanding my uncle's earnest +assurances, the good fellow had remained in doubt of our understanding +each other. He imagined I would talk to him in some foreign language. + +I was told that his last words on getting into the sledge to come to +meet me shaped an anxious exclamation: + +“Well! Well! Here I am going, but God only knows how I am to make myself +understood to our master's nephew.” + +We understood each other very well from the first. He took charge of +me as if I were not quite of age. I had a delightful boyish feeling +of coming home from school when he muffled me up next morning in an +enormous bearskin travelling-coat and took his seat protectively by +my side. The sledge was a very small one, and it looked utterly +insignificant, almost like a toy behind the four big bays harnessed two +and two. We three, counting the coachman, filled it completely. He was +a young fellow with clear blue eyes; the high collar of his livery fur +coat framed his cheery countenance and stood all round level with the +top of his head. + +“Now, Joseph,” my companion addressed him, “do you think we shall manage +to get home before six?” His answer was that we would surely, with +God's help, and providing there were no heavy drifts in the long stretch +between certain villages whose names came with an extremely familiar +sound to my ears. He turned out an excellent coachman, with an instinct +for keeping the road among the snow-covered fields and a natural gift of +getting the best out of his horses. + +“He is the son of that Joseph that I suppose the Captain remembers. +He who used to drive the Captain's late grandmother of holy memory,” + remarked V. S., busy tucking fur rugs about my feet. + +I remembered perfectly the trusty Joseph who used to drive my +grandmother. Why! he it was who let me hold the reins for the first +time in my life and allowed me to play with the great four-in-hand whip +outside the doors of the coach-house. + +“What became of him?” I asked. “He is no longer serving, I suppose.” + +“He served our master,” was the reply. “But he died of cholera ten years +ago now--that great epidemic that we had. And his wife died at the same +time--the whole houseful of them, and this is the only boy that was +left.” + +The MS. of “Almayer's Folly” was reposing in the bag under our feet. + +I saw again the sun setting on the plains as I saw it in the travels of +my childhood. It set, clear and red, dipping into the snow in full view +as if it were setting on the sea. It was twenty-three years since I had +seen the sun set over that land; and we drove on in the darkness which +fell swiftly upon the livid expanse of snows till, out of the waste of a +white earth joining a bestarred sky, surged up black shapes, the clumps +of trees about a village of the Ukrainian plain. A cottage or two glided +by, a low interminable wall, and then, glimmering and winking through a +screen of fir-trees, the lights of the master's house. + +That very evening the wandering MS. of “Almayer's Folly” was unpacked +and unostentatiously laid on the writing-table in my room, the +guest-room which had been, I was informed in an affectionately careless +tone, awaiting me for some fifteen years or so. It attracted no +attention from the affectionate presence hovering round the son of the +favourite sister. + +“You won't have many hours to yourself while you are staying with me, +brother,” he said--this form of address borrowed from the speech of +our peasants being the usual expression of the highest good humour in +a moment of affectionate elation. “I shall be always coming in for a +chat.” + +As a matter of fact, we had the whole house to chat in, and were +everlastingly intruding upon each other. I invaded the retirement of +his study where the principal feature was a colossal silver inkstand +presented to him on his fiftieth year by a subscription of all his +wards then living. He had been guardian of many orphans of land-owning +families from the three southern provinces--ever since the year 1860. +Some of them had been my school fellows and playmates, but not one of +them, girls or boys, that I know of has ever written a novel. One or two +were older than myself--considerably older, too. One of them, a visitor +I remember in my early years, was the man who first put me on horseback, +and his four-horse bachelor turnout, his perfect horsemanship and +general skill in manly exercises, was one of my earliest admirations. I +seem to remember my mother looking on from a colonnade in front of the +dining-room windows as I was lifted upon the pony, held, for all I know, +by the very Joseph--the groom attached specially to my grandmother's +service--who died of cholera. It was certainly a young man in a +dark-blue, tailless coat and huge Cossack trousers, that being the +livery of the men about the stables. It must have been in 1864, but +reckoning by another mode of calculating time, it was certainly in the +year in which my mother obtained permission to travel south and visit +her family, from the exile into which she had followed my father. For +that, too, she had had to ask permission, and I know that one of the +conditions of that favour was that she should be treated exactly as a +condemned exile herself. Yet a couple of years later, in memory of her +eldest brother, who had served in the Guards and dying early left hosts +of friends and a loved memory in the great world of St. Petersburg, +some influential personages procured for her this permission--it was +officially called the “Highest Grace”--of a four months' leave from +exile. + +This is also the year in which I first begin to remember my mother with +more distinctness than a mere loving, wide-browed, silent, protecting +presence, whose eyes had a sort of commanding sweetness; and I also +remember the great gathering of all the relations from near and far, and +the gray heads of the family friends paying her the homage of respect +and love in the house of her favourite brother, who, a few years later, +was to take the place for me of both my parents. + +I did not understand the tragic significance of it all at the time, +though, indeed, I remember that doctors also came. There were no signs +of invalidism about her--but I think that already they had pronounced +her doom unless perhaps the change to a southern climate could +re-establish her declining strength. For me it seems the very +happiest period of my existence. There was my cousin, a delightful, +quick-tempered little girl, some months younger than myself, whose life, +lovingly watched over as if she were a royal princess, came to an end +with her fifteenth year. There were other children, too, many of whom +are dead now, and not a few whose very names I have forgotten. Over all +this hung the oppressive shadow of the great Russian empire--the shadow +lowering with the darkness of a new-born national hatred fostered by +the Moscow school of journalists against the Poles after the ill-omened +rising of 1863. + +This is a far cry back from the MS. of “Almayer's Folly,” but the public +record of these formative impressions is not the whim of an uneasy +egotism. These, too, are things human, already distant in their appeal. +It is meet that something more should be left for the novelist's +children than the colours and figures of his own hard-won creation. That +which in their grown-up years may appear to the world about them as the +most enigmatic side of their natures and perhaps must remain forever +obscure even to themselves, will be their unconscious response to the +still voice of that inexorable past from which his work of fiction and +their personalities are remotely derived. + +Only in men's imagination does every truth find an effective and +undeniable existence. Imagination, not invention, is the supreme master +of art as of life. An imaginative and exact rendering of authentic +memories may serve worthily that spirit of piety toward all things human +which sanctions the conceptions of a writer of tales, and the emotions +of the man reviewing his own experience. + + +II + +As I have said, I was unpacking my luggage after a journey from London +into Ukraine. The MS. of “Almayer's Folly”--my companion already for +some three years or more, and then in the ninth chapter of its age--was +deposited unostentatiously on the writing-table placed between two +windows. It didn't occur to me to put it away in the drawer the table +was fitted with, but my eye was attracted by the good form of the same +drawer's brass handles. Two candelabra, with four candles each, lighted +up festally the room which had waited so many years for the wandering +nephew. The blinds were down. + +Within five hundred yards of the chair on which I sat stood the first +peasant hut of the village--part of my maternal grandfather's estate, +the only part remaining in the possession of a member of the family; and +beyond the village in the limitless blackness of a winter's night there +lay the great unfenced fields--not a flat and severe plain, but a kindly +bread-giving land of low rounded ridges, all white now, with the black +patches of timber nestling in the hollows. The road by which I had come +ran through the village with a turn just outside the gates closing the +short drive. Somebody was abroad on the deep snow track; a quick tinkle +of bells stole gradually into the stillness of the room like a tuneful +whisper. + +My unpacking had been watched over by the servant who had come to help +me, and, for the most part, had been standing attentive but unnecessary +at the door of the room. I did not want him in the least, but I did not +like to tell him to go away. He was a young fellow, certainly more +than ten years younger than myself; I had not been--I won't say in that +place, but within sixty miles of it, ever since the year '67; yet +his guileless physiognomy of the open peasant type seemed strangely +familiar. It was quite possible that he might have been a descendant, a +son, or even a grandson, of the servants whose friendly faces had been +familiar to me in my early childhood. As a matter of fact he had no such +claim on my consideration. He was the product of some village near by +and was there on his promotion, having learned the service in one or two +houses as pantry boy. I know this because I asked the worthy V---- next +day. I might well have spared the question. I discovered before long +that all the faces about the house and all the faces in the village: +the grave faces with long mustaches of the heads of families, the downy +faces of the young men, the faces of the little fair-haired children, +the handsome, tanned, wide-browed faces of the mothers seen at the doors +of the huts, were as familiar to me as though I had known them all from +childhood and my childhood were a matter of the day before yesterday. + +The tinkle of the traveller's bells, after growing louder, had faded +away quickly, and the tumult of barking dogs in the village had calmed +down at last. My uncle, lounging in the corner of a small couch, smoked +his long Turkish chibouk in silence. + +“This is an extremely nice writing-table you have got for my room,” I +remarked. + +“It is really your property,” he said, keeping his eyes on me, with +an interested and wistful expression, as he had done ever since I had +entered the house. “Forty years ago your mother used to write at this +very table. In our house in Oratow, it stood in the little sitting-room +which, by a tacit arrangement, was given up to the girls--I mean to +your mother and her sister who died so young. It was a present to them +jointly from your uncle Nicholas B. when your mother was seventeen and +your aunt two years younger. She was a very dear, delightful girl, that +aunt of yours, of whom I suppose you know nothing more than the name. +She did not shine so much by personal beauty and a cultivated mind in +which your mother was far superior. It was her good sense, the admirable +sweetness of her nature, her exceptional facility and ease in daily +relations, that endeared her to everybody. Her death was a terrible +grief and a serious moral loss for us all. Had she lived she would have +brought the greatest blessings to the house it would have been her lot +to enter, as wife, mother, and mistress of a household. She would have +created round herself an atmosphere of peace and content which only +those who can love unselfishly are able to evoke. Your mother--of far +greater beauty, exceptionally distinguished in person, manner, and +intellect--had a less easy disposition. Being more brilliantly gifted, +she also expected more from life. At that trying time especially, we +were greatly concerned about her state. Suffering in her health from the +shock of her father's death (she was alone in the house with him when he +died suddenly), she was torn by the inward struggle between her love for +the man whom she was to marry in the end and her knowledge of her dead +father's declared objection to that match. Unable to bring herself +to disregard that cherished memory and that judgment she had always +respected and trusted, and, on the other hand, feeling the impossibility +to resist a sentiment so deep and so true, she could not have been +expected to preserve her mental and moral balance. At war with herself, +she could not give to others that feeling of peace which was not her +own. It was only later, when united at last with the man of her +choice, that she developed those uncommon gifts of mind and heart which +compelled the respect and admiration even of our foes. Meeting with calm +fortitude the cruel trials of a life reflecting all the national +and social misfortunes of the community, she realized the highest +conceptions of duty as a wife, a mother, and a patriot, sharing +the exile of her husband and representing nobly the ideal of Polish +womanhood. Our uncle Nicholas was not a man very accessible to feelings +of affection. Apart from his worship for Napoleon the Great, he loved +really, I believe, only three people in the world: his mother--your +great-grandmother, whom you have seen but cannot possibly remember; his +brother, our father, in whose house he lived for so many years; and +of all of us, his nephews and nieces grown up around him, your mother +alone. The modest, lovable qualities of the youngest sister he did not +seem able to see. It was I who felt most profoundly this unexpected +stroke of death falling upon the family less than a year after I had +become its head. It was terribly unexpected. Driving home one wintry +afternoon to keep me company in our empty house, where I had to remain +permanently administering the estate and at tending to the complicated +affairs--(the girls took it in turn week and week about)--driving, as +I said, from the house of the Countess Tekla Potocka, where our invalid +mother was staying then to be near a doctor, they lost the road and got +stuck in a snow drift. She was alone with the coachman and old Valery, +the personal servant of our late father. Impatient of delay while they +were trying to dig themselves out, she jumped out of the sledge and went +to look for the road herself. All this happened in '51, not ten miles +from the house in which we are sitting now. + +“The road was soon found, but snow had begun to fall thickly again, and +they were four more hours getting home. Both the men took off their +sheepskin lined greatcoats and used all their own rugs to wrap her up +against the cold, notwithstanding her protests, positive orders, and +even struggles, as Valery afterward related to me. 'How could I,' he +remonstrated with her, 'go to meet the blessed soul of my late master +if I let any harm come to you while there's a spark of life left in my +body?' When they reached home at last the poor old man was stiff and +speechless from exposure, and the coachman was in not much better +plight, though he had the strength to drive round to the stables +himself. To my reproaches for venturing out at all in such weather, she +answered, characteristically, that she could not bear the thought of +abandoning me to my cheerless solitude. It is incomprehensible how it +was that she was allowed to start. I suppose it had to be! She made +light of the cough which came on next day, but shortly afterward +inflammation of the lungs set in, and in three weeks she was no more! +She was the first to be taken away of the young generation under my +care. Behold the vanity of all hopes and fears! I was the most frail +at birth of all the children. For years I remained so delicate that my +parents had but little hope of bringing me up; and yet I have survived +five brothers and two sisters, and many of my contemporaries; I have +outlived my wife and daughter, too--and from all those who have had some +knowledge at least of these old times you alone are left. It has been +my lot to lay in an early grave many honest hearts, many brilliant +promises, many hopes full of life.” + +He got up briskly, sighed, and left me saying, “We will dine in half an +hour.” + +Without moving, I listened to his quick steps resounding on the waxed +floor of the next room, traversing the anteroom lined with bookshelves, +where he paused to put his chibouk in the pipe-stand before passing into +the drawing-room (these were all en suite), where he became inaudible +on the thick carpet. But I heard the door of his study-bedroom close. He +was then sixty-two years old and had been for a quarter of a century the +wisest, the firmest, the most indulgent of guardians, extending over me +a paternal care and affection, a moral support which I seemed to feel +always near me in the most distant parts of the earth. + +As to Mr. Nicholas B., sub-lieutenant of 1808, lieutenant of 1813 in +the French army, and for a short time _Officier d'Ordonnance_ of Marshal +Marmont; afterward captain in the 2d Regiment of Mounted Rifles in +the Polish army--such as it existed up to 1830 in the reduced kingdom +established by the Congress of Vienna--I must say that from all that +more distant past, known to me traditionally and a little _de visu_, and +called out by the words of the man just gone away, he remains the most +incomplete figure. It is obvious that I must have seen him in '64, for +it is certain that he would not have missed the opportunity of seeing my +mother for what he must have known would be the last time. From my early +boyhood to this day, if I try to call up his image, a sort of mist rises +before my eyes, mist in which I perceive vaguely only a neatly brushed +head of white hair (which is exceptional in the case of the B. family, +where it is the rule for men to go bald in a becoming manner before +thirty) and a thin, curved, dignified nose, a feature in strict +accordance with the physical tradition of the B. family. But it is not +by these fragmentary remains of perishable mortality that he lives in my +memory. I knew, at a very early age, that my granduncle Nicholas B. was +a Knight of the Legion of Honour and that he had also the Polish Cross +for _valour Virtuti Militari_. The knowledge of these glorious facts +inspired in me an admiring veneration; yet it is not that sentiment, +strong as it was, which resumes for me the force and the significance of +his personality. It is overborne by another and complex impression +of awe, compassion, and horror. Mr. Nicholas B. remains for me the +unfortunate and miserable (but heroic) being who once upon a time had +eaten a dog. + +It is a good forty years since I heard the tale, and the effect has not +worn off yet. I believe this is the very first, say, realistic, story I +heard in my life; but all the same I don't know why I should have been +so frightfully impressed. Of course I know what our village dogs look +like--but still. . . . No! At this very day, recalling the horror +and compassion of my childhood, I ask myself whether I am right in +disclosing to a cold and fastidious world that awful episode in the +family history. I ask myself--is it right?--especially as the B. family +had always been honourably known in a wide countryside for the delicacy +of their tastes in the matter of eating and drinking. But upon the +whole, and considering that this gastronomical degradation overtaking a +gallant young officer lies really at the door of the Great Napoleon, +I think that to cover it up by silence would be an exaggeration of +literary restraint. Let the truth stand here. The responsibility rests +with the Man of St. Helena in view of his deplorable levity in the +conduct of the Russian campaign. It was during the memorable retreat +from Moscow that Mr. Nicholas B., in company of two brother officers--as +to whose morality and natural refinement I know nothing--bagged a dog +on the outskirts of a village and subsequently devoured him. As far as +I can remember the weapon used was a cavalry sabre, and the issue of the +sporting episode was rather more of a matter of life and death than if +it had been an encounter with a tiger. A picket of Cossacks was sleeping +in that village lost in the depths of the great Lithuanian forest. The +three sportsmen had observed them from a hiding-place making themselves +very much at home among the huts just before the early winter darkness +set in at four o'clock. They had observed them with disgust and, +perhaps, with despair. Late in the night the rash counsels of hunger +overcame the dictates of prudence. Crawling through the snow they crept +up to the fence of dry branches which generally encloses a village in +that part of Lithuania. What they expected to get and in what manner, +and whether this expectation was worth the risk, goodness only knows. + +However, these Cossack parties, in most cases wandering without an +officer, were known to guard themselves badly and often not at all. In +addition, the village lying at a great distance from the line of French +retreat, they could not suspect the presence of stragglers from the +Grand Army. The three officers had strayed away in a blizzard from the +main column and had been lost for days in the woods, which explains +sufficiently the terrible straits to which they were reduced. Their plan +was to try and attract the attention of the peasants in that one of the +huts which was nearest to the enclosure; but as they were preparing to +venture into the very jaws of the lion, so to speak, a dog (it is mighty +strange that there was but one), a creature quite as formidable under +the circumstances as a lion, began to bark on the other side of the +fence. . . . + +At this stage of the narrative, which I heard many times (by request) +from the lips of Captain Nicholas B.'s sister-in-law, my grandmother, I +used to tremble with excitement. + +The dog barked. And if he had done no more than bark, three officers of +the Great Napoleon's army would have perished honourably on the points +of Cossacks' lances, or perchance escaping the chase would have died +decently of starvation. But before they had time to think of running +away that fatal and revolting dog, being carried away by the excess of +the zeal, dashed out through a gap in the fence. He dashed out and +died. His head, I understand, was severed at one blow from his body. +I understand also that later on, within the gloomy solitudes of the +snow-laden woods, when, in a sheltering hollow, a fire had been lit by +the party, the condition of the quarry was discovered to be distinctly +unsatisfactory. It was not thin--on the contrary, it seemed unhealthily +obese; its skin showed bare patches of an unpleasant character. However, +they had not killed that dog for the sake of the pelt. He was large. +. . . He was eaten. . . . The rest is silence. . . . + +A silence in which a small boy shudders and says firmly: + +“I could not have eaten that dog.” + +And his grandmother remarks with a smile: + +“Perhaps you don't know what it is to be hungry.” + +I have learned something of it since. Not that I have been reduced to +eat dog. I have fed on the emblematical animal, which, in the language +of the volatile Gauls, is called la vache enragee; I have lived on +ancient salt junk, I know the taste of shark, of trepang, of snake, +of nondescript dishes containing things without a name--but of the +Lithuanian village dog--never! I wish it to be distinctly understood +that it is not I, but my granduncle Nicholas, of the Polish landed +gentry, Chevalier de la Legion d'Honneur, etc., who in his young days, +had eaten the Lithuanian dog. + +I wish he had not. The childish horror of the deed clings absurdly +to the grizzled man. I am perfectly helpless against it. Still, if +he really had to, let us charitably remember that he had eaten him on +active service, while bearing up bravely against the greatest military +disaster of modern history, and, in a manner, for the sake of his +country. He had eaten him to appease his hunger, no doubt, but also for +the sake of an unappeasable and patriotic desire, in the glow of a great +faith that lives still, and in the pursuit of a great illusion kindled +like a false beacon by a great man to lead astray the effort of a brave +nation. + +_Pro patria!_ + +Looked at in that light, it appears a sweet and decorous meal. + +And looked at in the same light, my own diet of la vache enragee appears +a fatuous and extravagant form of self-indulgence; for why should I, +the son of a land which such men as these have turned up with their +plowshares and bedewed with their blood, undertake the pursuit of +fantastic meals of salt junk and hardtack upon the wide seas? On +the kindest view it seems an unanswerable question. Alas! I have the +conviction that there are men of unstained rectitude who are ready +to murmur scornfully the word desertion. Thus the taste of innocent +adventure may be made bitter to the palate. The part of the inexplicable +should be allowed for in appraising the conduct of men in a world where +no explanation is final. No charge of faithlessness ought to be lightly +uttered. The appearances of this perishable life are deceptive, like +everything that falls under the judgment of our imperfect senses. The +inner voice may remain true enough in its secret counsel. The fidelity +to a special tradition may last through the events of an unrelated +existence, following faithfully, too, the traced way of an inexplicable +impulse. + +It would take too long to explain the intimate alliance of +contradictions in human nature which makes love itself wear at times +the desperate shape of betrayal. And perhaps there is no possible +explanation. Indulgence--as somebody said--is the most intelligent of +all the virtues. I venture to think that it is one of the least common, +if not the most uncommon of all. I would not imply by this that men +are foolish--or even most men. Far from it. The barber and the priest, +backed by the whole opinion of the village, condemned justly the conduct +of the ingenious hidalgo, who, sallying forth from his native place, +broke the head of the muleteer, put to death a flock of inoffensive +sheep, and went through very doleful experiences in a certain stable. +God forbid that an unworthy churl should escape merited censure by +hanging on to the stirrup-leather of the sublime caballero. His was a +very noble, a very unselfish fantasy, fit for nothing except to raise +the envy of baser mortals. But there is more than one aspect to the +charm of that exalted and dangerous figure. He, too, had his frailties. +After reading so many romances he desired naively to escape with his +very body from the intolerable reality of things. He wished to meet, eye +to eye, the valorous giant Brandabarbaran, Lord of Arabia, whose armour +is made of the skin of a dragon, and whose shield, strapped to his arm, +is the gate of a fortified city. Oh, amiable and natural weakness! +Oh, blessed simplicity of a gentle heart without guile! Who would not +succumb to such a consoling temptation? Nevertheless, it was a form of +self-indulgence, and the ingenious hidalgo of La Mancha was not a +good citizen. The priest and the barber were not unreasonable in their +strictures. Without going so far as the old King Louis-Philippe, who +used to say in his exile, “The people are never in fault”--one may admit +that there must be some righteousness in the assent of a whole village. +Mad! Mad! He who kept in pious meditation the ritual vigil-of-arms by +the well of an inn and knelt reverently to be knighted at daybreak by +the fat, sly rogue of a landlord has come very near perfection. He +rides forth, his head encircled by a halo--the patron saint of all lives +spoiled or saved by the irresistible grace of imagination. But he was +not a good citizen. + +Perhaps that and nothing else was meant by the well-remembered +exclamation of my tutor. + +It was in the jolly year 1873, the very last year in which I have had a +jolly holiday. There have been idle years afterward, jolly enough in a +way and not altogether without their lesson, but this year of which +I speak was the year of my last school-boy holiday. There are other +reasons why I should remember that year, but they are too long to state +formally in this place. Moreover, they have nothing to do with that +holiday. What has to do with the holiday is that before the day on which +the remark was made we had seen Vienna, the Upper Danube, Munich, the +Falls of the Rhine, the Lake of Constance,--in fact, it was a memorable +holiday of travel. Of late we had been tramping slowly up the Valley of +the Reuss. It was a delightful time. It was much more like a stroll than +a tramp. Landing from a Lake of Lucerne steamer in Fluelen, we found +ourselves at the end of the second day, with the dusk overtaking our +leisurely footsteps, a little way beyond Hospenthal. This is not the day +on which the remark was made: in the shadows of the deep valley and with +the habitations of men left some way behind, our thoughts ran not upon +the ethics of conduct, but upon the simpler human problem of shelter +and food. There did not seem anything of the kind in sight, and we were +thinking of turning back when suddenly, at a bend of the road, we came +upon a building, ghostly in the twilight. + +At that time the work on the St. Gothard Tunnel was going on, and that +magnificent enterprise of burrowing was directly responsible for the +unexpected building, standing all alone upon the very roots of the +mountains. It was long, though not big at all; it was low; it was built +of boards, without ornamentation, in barrack-hut style, with the white +window-frames quite flush with the yellow face of its plain front. And +yet it was a hotel; it had even a name, which I have forgotten. But +there was no gold laced doorkeeper at its humble door. A plain but +vigorous servant-girl answered our inquiries, then a man and woman who +owned the place appeared. It was clear that no travellers were expected, +or perhaps even desired, in this strange hostelry, which in its severe +style resembled the house which sur mounts the unseaworthy-looking hulls +of the toy Noah's Arks, the universal possession of European childhood. +However, its roof was not hinged and it was not full to the brim of +slab-sided and painted animals of wood. Even the live tourist animal was +nowhere in evidence. We had something to eat in a long, narrow room at +one end of a long, narrow table, which, to my tired perception and to my +sleepy eyes, seemed as if it would tilt up like a see saw plank, since +there was no one at the other end to balance it against our two dusty +and travel-stained figures. Then we hastened up stairs to bed in a room +smelling of pine planks, and I was fast asleep before my head touched +the pillow. + +In the morning my tutor (he was a student of the Cracow University) woke +me up early, and as we were dressing remarked: “There seems to be a lot +of people staying in this hotel. I have heard a noise of talking up +till eleven o'clock.” This statement surprised me; I had heard no noise +whatever, having slept like a top. + +We went down-stairs into the long and narrow dining-room with its long +and narrow table. There were two rows of plates on it. At one of the +many curtained windows stood a tall, bony man with a bald head set off +by a bunch of black hair above each ear, and with a long, black beard. +He glanced up from the paper he was reading and seemed genuinely +astonished at our intrusion. By and by more men came in. Not one of them +looked like a tourist. Not a single woman appeared. These men seemed to +know each other with some intimacy, but I cannot say they were a very +talkative lot. The bald-headed man sat down gravely at the head of the +table. It all had the air of a family party. By and by, from one of the +vigorous servant-girls in national costume, we discovered that the place +was really a boarding house for some English engineers engaged at the +works of the St. Gothard Tunnel; and I could listen my fill to +the sounds of the English language, as far as it is used at a +breakfast-table by men who do not believe in wasting many words on the +mere amenities of life. + +This was my first contact with British mankind apart from the tourist +kind seen in the hotels of Zurich and Lucerne--the kind which has no +real existence in a workaday world. I know now that the bald-headed man +spoke with a strong Scotch accent. I have met many of his kind ashore +and afloat. The second engineer of the steamer Mavis, for instance, +ought to have been his twin brother. I cannot help thinking that he +really was, though for some reason of his own he assured me that he +never had a twin brother. Anyway, the deliberate, bald-headed Scot with +the coal-black beard appeared to my boyish eyes a very romantic and +mysterious person. + +We slipped out unnoticed. Our mapped-out route led over the Furca Pass +toward the Rhone Glacier, with the further intention of following down +the trend of the Hasli Valley. The sun was already declining when we +found ourselves on the top of the pass, and the remark alluded to was +presently uttered. + +We sat down by the side of the road to continue the argument begun half +a mile or so before. I am certain it was an argument, because I remember +perfectly how my tutor argued and how without the power of reply I +listened, with my eyes fixed obstinately on the ground. A stir on the +road made me look up--and then I saw my unforgettable Englishman. There +are acquaintances of later years, familiars, shipmates, whom I remember +less clearly. He marched rapidly toward the east (attended by a hang-dog +Swiss guide), with the mien of an ardent and fearless traveller. He +was clad in a knickerbocker suit, but as at the same time he wore short +socks under his laced boots, for reasons which, whether hygienic or +conscientious, were surely imaginative, his calves, exposed to the +public gaze and to the tonic air of high altitudes, dazzled the beholder +by the splendour of their marble-like condition and their rich tone +of young ivory. He was the leader of a small caravan. The light of a +headlong, exalted satisfaction with the world of men and the scenery +of mountains illumined his clean-cut, very red face, his short, +silver-white whiskers, his innocently eager and triumphant eyes. In +passing he cast a glance of kindly curiosity and a friendly gleam of +big, sound, shiny teeth toward the man and the boy sitting like dusty +tramps by the roadside, with a modest knapsack lying at their feet. His +white calves twinkled sturdily, the uncouth Swiss guide with a surly +mouth stalked like an unwilling bear at his elbow; a small train +of three mules followed in single file the lead of this inspiring +enthusiast. Two ladies rode past, one behind the other, but from the way +they sat I saw only their calm, uniform backs, and the long ends of blue +veils hanging behind far down over their identical hat-brims. His two +daughters, surely. An industrious luggage-mule, with unstarched ears and +guarded by a slouching, sallow driver, brought up the rear. My tutor, +after pausing for a look and a faint smile, resumed his earnest +argument. + +I tell you it was a memorable year! One does not meet such an Englishman +twice in a lifetime. Was he in the mystic ordering of common events the +ambassador of my future, sent out to turn the scale at a critical moment +on the top of an Alpine pass, with the peaks of the Bernese Oberland for +mute and solemn witnesses? His glance, his smile, the unextinguishable +and comic ardour of his striving-forward appearance, helped me to +pull myself together. It must be stated that on that day and in the +exhilarating atmosphere of that elevated spot I had been feeling utterly +crushed. It was the year in which I had first spoken aloud of my desire +to go to sea. At first like those sounds that, ranging outside the +scale to which men's ears are attuned, remain inaudible to our sense of +hearing, this declaration passed unperceived. It was as if it had not +been. Later on, by trying various tones, I managed to arouse here +and there a surprised momentary attention--the “What was that funny +noise?”--sort of inquiry. Later on it was: “Did you hear what that boy +said? What an extraordinary outbreak!” Presently a wave of scandalized +astonishment (it could not have been greater if I had announced +the intention of entering a Carthusian monastery) ebbing out of the +educational and academical town of Cracow spread itself over several +provinces. It spread itself shallow but far-reaching. It stirred up a +mass of remonstrance, indignation, pitying wonder, bitter irony, and +downright chaff. I could hardly breathe under its weight, and certainly +had no words for an answer. People wondered what Mr. T. B. would do now +with his worrying nephew and, I dare say, hoped kindly that he would +make short work of my nonsense. + +What he did was to come down all the way from Ukraine to have it out +with me and to judge by himself, unprejudiced, impartial, and just, +taking his stand on the ground of wisdom and affection. As far as is +possible for a boy whose power of expression is still unformed I opened +the secret of my thoughts to him, and he in return allowed me a glimpse +into his mind and heart; the first glimpse of an inexhaustible and noble +treasure of clear thought and warm feeling, which through life was to +be mine to draw upon with a never-deceived love and confidence. +Practically, after several exhaustive conversations, he concluded that +he would not have me later on reproach him for having spoiled my life +by an unconditional opposition. But I must take time for serious +reflection. And I must think not only of myself but of others; weigh the +claims of affection and conscience against my own sincerity of purpose. +“Think well what it all means in the larger issues--my boy,” he exhorted +me, finally, with special friendliness. “And meantime try to get the +best place you can at the yearly examinations.” + +The scholastic year came to an end. I took a fairly good place at +the exams, which for me (for certain reasons) happened to be a more +difficult task than for other boys. In that respect I could enter with +a good conscience upon that holiday which was like a long visit _pour +prendre conge_ of the mainland of old Europe I was to see so little of +for the next four-and-twenty years. Such, however, was not the avowed +purpose of that tour. It was rather, I suspect, planned in order to +distract and occupy my thoughts in other directions. Nothing had been +said for months of my going to sea. But my attachment to my young tutor +and his influence over me were so well known that he must have received +a confidential mission to talk me out of my romantic folly. It was an +excellently appropriate arrangement, as neither he nor I had ever had a +single glimpse of the sea in our lives. That was to come by and by for +both of us in Venice, from the outer shore of Lido. Meantime he had +taken his mission to heart so well that I began to feel crushed before +we reached Zurich. He argued in railway trains, in lake steamboats, he +had argued away for me the obligatory sunrise on the Righi, by Jove! Of +his devotion to his unworthy pupil there can be no doubt. He had proved +it already by two years of unremitting and arduous care. I could not +hate him. But he had been crushing me slowly, and when he started to +argue on the top of the Furca Pass he was perhaps nearer a success +than either he or I imagined. I listened to him in despairing silence, +feeling that ghostly, unrealized, and desired sea of my dreams escape +from the unnerved grip of my will. + +The enthusiastic old Englishman had passed--and the argument went on. +What reward could I expect from such a life at the end of my years, +either in ambition, honour, or conscience? An unanswerable question. But +I felt no longer crushed. Then our eyes met and a genuine emotion was +visible in his as well as in mine. The end came all at once. He picked +up the knapsack suddenly and got onto his feet. + +“You are an incorrigible, hopeless Don Quixote. That's what you are.” + +I was surprised. I was only fifteen and did not know what he meant +exactly. But I felt vaguely flattered at the name of the immortal knight +turning up in connection with my own folly, as some people would call it +to my face. Alas! I don't think there was anything to be proud of. Mine +was not the stuff of protectors of forlorn damsels, the redressers of +this world's wrong are made of; and my tutor was the man to know that +best. Therein, in his indignation, he was superior to the barber and the +priest when he flung at me an honoured name like a reproach. + +I walked behind him for full five minutes; then without looking back he +stopped. The shadows of distant peaks were lengthening over the Furca +Pass. When I came up to him he turned to me and in full view of the +Finster Aarhorn, with his band of giant brothers rearing their +monstrous heads against a brilliant sky, put his hand on my shoulder +affectionately. + +“Well! That's enough. We will have no more of it.” + +And indeed there was no more question of my mysterious vocation between +us. There was to be no more question of it at all, no where or with any +one. We began the descent of the Furca Pass conversing merrily. + +Eleven years later, month for month, I stood on Tower Hill on the steps +of the St. Katherine's Dockhouse, a master in the British Merchant +Service. But the man who put his hand on my shoulder at the top of the +Furca Pass was no longer living. + +That very year of our travels he took his degree of the Philosophical +Faculty--and only then his true vocation declared itself. Obedient to +the call, he entered at once upon the four-year course of the Medical +Schools. A day came when, on the deck of a ship moored in Calcutta, I +opened a letter telling me of the end of an enviable existence. He had +made for himself a practice in some obscure little town of Austrian +Galicia. And the letter went on to tell me how all the bereaved poor of +the district, Christians and Jews alike, had mobbed the good doctor's +coffin with sobs and lamentations at the very gate of the cemetery. + +How short his years and how clear his vision! What greater reward in +ambition, honour, and conscience could he have hoped to win for himself +when, on the top of the Furca Pass, he bade me look well to the end of +my opening life? + + +III + +The devouring in a dismal forest of a luckless Lithuanian dog by my +granduncle Nicholas B. in company of two other military and famished +scarecrows, symbolized, to my childish imagination, the whole horror of +the retreat from Moscow, and the immorality of a conqueror's ambition. +An extreme distaste for that objectionable episode has tinged the views +I hold as to the character and achievements of Napoleon the Great. I +need not say that these are unfavourable. It was morally reprehensible +for that great captain to induce a simple-minded Polish gentleman to eat +dog by raising in his breast a false hope of national independence. It +has been the fate of that credulous nation to starve for upward of a +hundred years on a diet of false hopes and--well--dog. It is, when one +thinks of it, a singularly poisonous regimen. Some pride in the national +constitution which has survived a long course of such dishes is really +excusable. + +But enough of generalizing. Returning to particulars, Mr. Nicholas B. +confided to his sister-in-law (my grandmother) in his misanthropically +laconic manner that this supper in the woods had been nearly “the death +of him.” This is not surprising. What surprises me is that the story +was ever heard of; for granduncle Nicholas differed in this from the +generality of military men of Napoleon's time (and perhaps of all time) +that he did not like to talk of his campaigns, which began at Friedland +and ended some where in the neighbourhood of Bar-le-Duc. His admiration +of the great Emperor was unreserved in everything but expression. Like +the religion of earnest men, it was too profound a sentiment to be +displayed before a world of little faith. Apart from that he seemed as +completely devoid of military anecdotes as though he had hardly ever +seen a soldier in his life. Proud of his decorations earned before he +was twenty-five, he refused to wear the ribbons at the buttonhole in the +manner practised to this day in Europe and even was unwilling to display +the insignia on festive occasions, as though he wished to conceal them +in the fear of appearing boastful. + +“It is enough that I have them,” he used to mutter. In the course of +thirty years they were seen on his breast only twice--at an auspicious +marriage in the family and at the funeral of an old friend. That the +wedding which was thus honoured was not the wedding of my mother +I learned only late in life, too late to bear a grudge against +Mr. Nicholas B., who made amends at my birth by a long letter of +congratulation containing the following prophecy: “He will see better +times.” Even in his embittered heart there lived a hope. But he was not +a true prophet. + +He was a man of strange contradictions. Living for many years in his +brother's house, the home of many children, a house full of life, of +animation, noisy with a constant coming and going of many guests, he +kept his habits of solitude and silence. Considered as obstinately +secretive in all his purposes, he was in reality the victim of a most +painful irresolution in all matters of civil life. Under his taciturn, +phlegmatic behaviour was hidden a faculty of short-lived passionate +anger. I suspect he had no talent for narrative; but it seemed to afford +him sombre satisfaction to declare that he was the last man to ride over +the bridge of the river Elster after the battle of Leipsic. Lest some +construction favourable to his valour should be put on the fact he +condescended to explain how it came to pass. It seems that shortly after +the retreat began he was sent back to the town where some divisions +of the French army (and among them the Polish corps of Prince Joseph +Poniatowski), jammed hopelessly in the streets, were being simply +exterminated by the troops of the Allied Powers. When asked what it was +like in there, Mr. Nicholas B. muttered only the word “Shambles.” Having +delivered his message to the Prince he hastened away at once to render +an account of his mission to the superior who had sent him. By that time +the advance of the enemy had enveloped the town, and he was shot at from +houses and chased all the way to the river-bank by a disorderly mob of +Austrian Dragoons and Prussian Hussars. The bridge had been mined early +in the morning, and his opinion was that the sight of the horsemen +converging from many sides in the pursuit of his person alarmed the +officer in command of the sappers and caused the premature firing of the +charges. He had not gone more than two hundred yards on the other +side when he heard the sound of the fatal explosions. Mr. Nicholas B. +concluded his bald narrative with the word “Imbecile,” uttered with the +utmost deliberation. It testified to his indignation at the loss of so +many thousands of lives. But his phlegmatic physiognomy lighted up when +he spoke of his only wound, with something resembling satisfaction. You +will see that there was some reason for it when you learn that he was +wounded in the heel. “Like his Majesty the Emperor Napoleon himself,” he +reminded his hearers, with assumed indifference. There can be no +doubt that the indifference was assumed, if one thinks what a very +distinguished sort of wound it was. In all the history of warfare there +are, I believe, only three warriors publicly known to have been wounded +in the heel--Achilles and Napoleon--demigods indeed--to whom the +familial piety of an unworthy descendant adds the name of the simple +mortal, Nicholas B. + +The Hundred Days found Mr. Nicholas B. staying with a distant relative +of ours, owner of a small estate in Galicia. How he got there across the +breadth of an armed Europe, and after what adventures, I am afraid will +never be known now. All his papers were destroyed shortly before his +death; but if there was among them, as he affirmed, a concise record +of his life, then I am pretty sure it did not take up more than a +half sheet of foolscap or so. This relative of ours happened to be +an Austrian officer who had left the service after the battle of +Austerlitz. Unlike Mr. Nicholas B., who concealed his decorations, he +liked to display his honourable discharge in which he was mentioned as +un schreckbar (fearless) before the enemy. No conjunction could seem +more unpromising, yet it stands in the family tradition that these two +got on very well together in their rural solitude. + +When asked whether he had not been sorely tempted during the Hundred +Days to make his way again to France and join the service of his beloved +Emperor, Mr. Nicholas B. used to mutter: “No money. No horse. Too far to +walk.” + +The fall of Napoleon and the ruin of national hopes affected adversely +the character of Mr. Nicholas B. He shrank from returning to his +province. But for that there was also another reason. Mr. Nicholas B. +and his brother--my maternal grand father--had lost their father early, +while they were quite children. Their mother, young still and left +very well off, married again a man of great charm and of an amiable +disposition, but without a penny. He turned out an affectionate and +careful stepfather; it was unfortunate, though, that while directing the +boys' education and forming their character by wise counsel, he did his +best to get hold of the fortune by buying and selling land in his own +name and investing capital in such a manner as to cover up the traces +of the real ownership. It seems that such practices can be successful if +one is charming enough to dazzle one's own wife permanently, and brave +enough to defy the vain terrors of public opinion. The critical time +came when the elder of the boys on attaining his majority, in the year +1811, asked for the accounts and some part at least of the inheritance +to begin life upon. It was then that the stepfather declared with +calm finality that there were no accounts to render and no property to +inherit. The whole fortune was his very own. He was very good-natured +about the young man's misapprehension of the true state of affairs, but, +of course, felt obliged to maintain his position firmly. Old friends +came and went busily, voluntary mediators appeared travelling on most +horrible roads from the most distant corners of the three provinces; +and the Marshal of the Nobility (ex-officio guardian of all well-born +orphans) called a meeting of landowners to “ascertain in a friendly +way how the misunderstanding between X and his stepsons had arisen and +devise proper measures to remove the same.” A deputation to that effect +visited X, who treated them to excellent wines, but absolutely refused +his ear to their remonstrances. As to the proposals for arbitration he +simply laughed at them; yet the whole province must have been aware +that fourteen years before, when he married the widow, all his +visible fortune consisted (apart from his social qualities) in a smart +four-horse turnout with two servants, with whom he went about visiting +from house to house; and as to any funds he might have possessed at that +time their existence could only be inferred from the fact that he was +very punctual in settling his modest losses at cards. But by the magic +power of stubborn and constant assertion, there were found presently, +here and there, people who mumbled that surely “there must be some thing +in it.” However, on his next name-day (which he used to celebrate by +a great three days' shooting party), of all the invited crowd only two +guests turned up, distant neighbours of no importance; one notoriously +a fool, and the other a very pious and honest person, but such a +passionate lover of the gun that on his own confession he could not have +refused an invitation to a shooting party from the devil himself. X met +this manifestation of public opinion with the serenity of an unstained +conscience. He refused to be crushed. Yet he must have been a man +of deep feeling, because, when his wife took openly the part of her +children, he lost his beautiful tranquillity, proclaimed himself +heartbroken, and drove her out of the house, neglecting in his grief to +give her enough time to pack her trunks. + +This was the beginning of a lawsuit, an abominable marvel of chicane, +which by the use of every legal subterfuge was made to last for many +years. It was also the occasion for a display of much kindness and +sympathy. All the neighbouring houses flew open for the reception of the +homeless. Neither legal aid nor material assistance in the prosecution +of the suit was ever wanting. X, on his side, went about shedding +tears publicly over his stepchildren's ingratitude and his wife's blind +infatuation; but as at the same time he displayed great cleverness +in the art of concealing material documents (he was even suspected of +having burned a lot of historically interesting family papers) this +scandalous litigation had to be ended by a compromise lest worse should +befall. It was settled finally by a surrender, out of the disputed +estate, in full satisfaction of all claims, of two villages with the +names of which I do not intend to trouble my readers. After this lame +and impotent conclusion neither the wife nor the stepsons had anything +to say to the man who had presented the world with such a successful +example of self-help based on character, determination, and industry; +and my great-grandmother, her health completely broken down, died a +couple of years later in Carlsbad. Legally secured by a decree in the +possession of his plunder, X regained his wonted serenity, and went on +living in the neighbourhood in a comfortable style and in apparent peace +of mind. His big shoots were fairly well attended again. He was never +tired of assuring people that he bore no grudge for what was past; +he protested loudly of his constant affection for his wife and +stepchildren. It was true, he said, that they had tried to strip him as +naked as a Turkish saint in the decline of his days; and because he had +defended himself from spoliation, as anybody else in his place would +have done, they had abandoned him now to the horrors of a solitary old +age. Nevertheless, his love for them survived these cruel blows. + +And there might have been some truth in his protestations. Very soon he +began to make overtures of friendship to his eldest stepson, my maternal +grandfather; and when these were peremptorily rejected he went on +renewing them again and again with characteristic obstinacy. For years +he persisted in his efforts at reconciliation, promising my grandfather +to execute a will in his favour if he only would be friends again to the +extent of calling now and then (it was fairly close neighbourhood for +these parts, forty miles or so), or even of putting in an appearance for +the great shoot on the name-day. My grandfather was an ardent lover of +every sport. His temperament was as free from hardness and animosity as +can be imagined. Pupil of the liberal-minded Benedictines who directed +the only public school of some standing then in the south, he had also +read deeply the authors of the eighteenth century. In him Christian +charity was joined to a philosophical indulgence for the failings of +human nature. But the memory of those miserably anxious early years, his +young man's years robbed of all generous illusions by the cynicism of +the sordid lawsuit, stood in the way of forgiveness. He never succumbed +to the fascination of the great shoot; and X, his heart set to the last +on reconciliation, with the draft of the will ready for signature kept +by his bedside, died intestate. + +The fortune thus acquired and augmented by a wise and careful management +passed to some distant relatives whom he had never seen and who even did +not bear his name. + +Meantime the blessing of general peace descended upon Europe. Mr. +Nicholas B., bidding good-bye to his hospitable relative, the “fearless” + Austrian officer, departed from Galicia, and without going near his +native place, where the odious lawsuit was still going on, proceeded +straight to Warsaw and entered the army of the newly constituted Polish +kingdom under the sceptre of Alexander I, Autocrat of all the Russias. + +This kingdom, created by the Vienna Congress as an acknowledgment to a +nation of its former independent existence, included only the central +provinces of the old Polish patrimony. A brother of the Emperor, the +Grand Duke Constantine (Pavlovitch), its Viceroy and Commander-in-Chief, +married morganatically to a Polish lady to whom he was fiercely +attached, extended this affection to what he called “My Poles” in +a capricious and savage manner. Sallow in complexion, with a Tartar +physiognomy and fierce little eyes, he walked with his fists clenched, +his body bent forward, darting suspicious glances from under an enormous +cocked hat. His intelligence was limited, and his sanity itself was +doubtful. The hereditary taint expressed itself, in his case, not by +mystic leanings as in his two brothers, Alexander and Nicholas (in their +various ways, for one was mystically liberal and the other mystically +autocratic), but by the fury of an uncontrollable temper which generally +broke out in disgusting abuse on the parade ground. He was a passionate +militarist and an amazing drill-master. He treated his Polish army as a +spoiled child treats a favourite toy, except that he did not take it to +bed with him at night. It was not small enough for that. But he played +with it all day and every day, delighting in the variety of pretty +uniforms and in the fun of incessant drilling. This childish passion, +not for war, but for mere militarism, achieved a desirable result. The +Polish army, in its equipment, in its armament, and in its battle-field +efficiency, as then understood, became, by the end of the year 1830, a +first-rate tactical instrument. Polish peasantry (not serfs) served in +the ranks by enlistment, and the officers belonged mainly to the smaller +nobility. Mr. Nicholas B., with his Napoleonic record, had no difficulty +in obtaining a lieutenancy, but the promotion in the Polish army was +slow, because, being a separate organization, it took no part in the +wars of the Russian Empire against either Persia or Turkey. Its first +campaign, against Russia itself, was to be its last. In 1831, on the +outbreak of the Revolution, Mr. Nicholas B. was the senior captain of +his regiment. Some time before he had been made head of the remount +establishment quartered outside the kingdom in our southern provinces, +whence almost all the horses for the Polish cavalry were drawn. For the +first time since he went away from home at the age of eighteen to begin +his military life by the battle of Friedland, Mr. Nicholas B. breathed +the air of the “Border,” his native air. Unkind fate was lying in wait +for him among the scenes of his youth. At the first news of the rising +in Warsaw all the remount establishment, officers, “vets.,” and the +very troopers, were put promptly under arrest and hurried off in a body +beyond the Dnieper to the nearest town in Russia proper. From there they +were dispersed to the distant parts of the empire. On this occasion poor +Mr. Nicholas B. penetrated into Russia much farther than he ever did in +the times of Napoleonic invasion, if much less willingly. Astrakan was +his destination. He remained there three years, allowed to live at +large in the town, but having to report himself every day at noon to the +military commandant, who used to detain him frequently for a pipe and +a chat. It is difficult to form a just idea of what a chat with Mr. +Nicholas B. could have been like. There must have been much compressed +rage under his taciturnity, for the commandant communicated to him +the news from the theatre of war, and this news was such as it could +be--that is, very bad for the Poles. Mr. Nicholas B. received these +communications with outward phlegm, but the Russian showed a warm +sympathy for his prisoner. “As a soldier myself I understand your +feelings. You, of course, would like to be in the thick of it. By +heavens! I am fond of you. If it were not for the terms of the military +oath I would let you go on my own responsibility. What difference could +it make to us, one more or less of you?” + +At other times he wondered with simplicity. + +“Tell me, Nicholas Stepanovitch” (my great-grandfather's name +was Stephen, and the commandant used the Russian form of polite +address)--“tell me why is it that you Poles are always looking for +trouble? What else could you expect from running up against Russia?” + +He was capable, too, of philosophical reflections. + +“Look at your Napoleon now. A great man. There is no denying it that he +was a great man as long as he was content to thrash those Germans and +Austrians and all those nations. But no! He must go to Russia looking +for trouble, and what's the consequence? Such as you see me; I have +rattled this sabre of mine on the pavements of Paris.” + +After his return to Poland Mr. Nicholas B. described him as a “worthy +man but stupid,” whenever he could be induced to speak of the conditions +of his exile. Declining the option offered him to enter the Russian +army, he was retired with only half the pension of his rank. His nephew +(my uncle and guardian) told me that the first lasting impression on +his memory as a child of four was the glad excitement reigning in his +parents' house on the day when Mr. Nicholas B. arrived home from his +detention in Russia. + +Every generation has its memories. The first memories of Mr. Nicholas +B. might have been shaped by the events of the last partition of Poland, +and he lived long enough to suffer from the last armed rising in 1863, +an event which affected the future of all my generation and has coloured +my earliest impressions. His brother, in whose house he had sheltered +for some seventeen years his misanthropical timidity before the +commonest problems of life, having died in the early fifties, Mr. +Nicholas B. had to screw his courage up to the sticking-point and come +to some decision as to the future. After a long and agonizing hesitation +he was persuaded at last to become the tenant of some fifteen hundred +acres out of the estate of a friend in the neighbourhood. + +The terms of the lease were very advantageous, but the retired situation +of the village and a plain, comfortable house in good repair were, I +fancy, the greatest inducements. He lived there quietly for about ten +years, seeing very few people and taking no part in the public life +of the province, such as it could be under an arbitrary bureaucratic +tyranny. His character and his patriotism were above suspicion; but +the organizers of the rising in their frequent journeys up and down the +province scrupulously avoided coming near his house. It was generally +felt that the repose of the old man's last years ought not to +be disturbed. Even such intimates as my paternal grandfather, +comrade-in-arms during Napoleon's Moscow campaign, and later on a fellow +officer in the Polish army, refrained from visiting his crony as the +date of the outbreak approached. My paternal grandfather's two sons and +his only daughter were all deeply involved in the revolutionary work; he +himself was of that type of Polish squire whose only ideal of patriotic +action was to “get into the saddle and drive them out.” But even he +agreed that “dear Nicholas must not be worried.” All this considerate +caution on the part of friends, both conspirators and others, did not +prevent Mr. Nicholas B. being made to feel the misfortunes of that +ill-omened year. + +Less than forty-eight hours after the beginning of the rebellion in that +part of the country, a squadron of scouting Cossacks passed through the +village and invaded the homestead. Most of them remained, formed between +the house and the stables, while several, dismounting, ransacked the +various outbuildings. The officer in command, accompanied by two men, +walked up to the front door. All the blinds on that side were down. +The officer told the servant who received him that he wanted to see his +master. He was answered that the master was away from home, which was +perfectly true. + +I follow here the tale as told afterward by the servant to my +granduncle's friends and relatives, and as I have heard it repeated. + +On receiving this answer the Cossack officer, who had been standing in +the porch, stepped into the house. + +“Where is the master gone, then?” + +“Our master went to J----” (the government town some fifty miles off) +“the day before yesterday.” + +“There are only two horses in the stables. Where are the others?” + +“Our master always travels with his own horses” (meaning: not by post). +“He will be away a week or more. He was pleased to mention to me that he +had to attend to some business in the Civil Court.” + +While the servant was speaking the officer looked about the hall. + +There was a door facing him, a door to the right, and a door to the +left. The officer chose to enter the room on the left, and ordered the +blinds to be pulled up. It was Mr. Nicholas B.'s study, with a couple of +tall bookcases, some pictures on the walls, and so on. Besides the +big centre-table, with books and papers, there was a quite small +writing-table, with several drawers, standing between the door and the +window in a good light; and at this table my granduncle usually sat +either to read or write. + +On pulling up the blind the servant was startled by the discovery that +the whole male population of the village was massed in front, trampling +down the flower-beds. There were also a few women among them. He was +glad to observe the village priest (of the Orthodox Church) coming up +the drive. The good man in his haste had tucked up his cassock as high +as the top of his boots. + +The officer had been looking at the backs of the books in the bookcases. +Then he perched himself on the edge of the centre table and remarked +easily: + +“Your master did not take you to town with him, then?” + +“I am the head servant, and he leaves me in charge of the house. It's a +strong, young chap that travels with our master. If--God forbid--there +was some accident on the road, he would be of much more use than I.” + +Glancing through the window, he saw the priest arguing vehemently in the +thick of the crowd, which seemed subdued by his interference. Three or +four men, however, were talking with the Cossacks at the door. + +“And you don't think your master has gone to join the rebels maybe--eh?” + asked the officer. + +“Our master would be too old for that, surely. He's well over seventy, +and he's getting feeble, too. It's some years now since he's been on +horseback, and he can't walk much, either, now.” + +The officer sat there swinging his leg, very quiet and indifferent. By +that time the peasants who had been talking with the Cossack troopers at +the door had been permitted to get into the hall. One or two more left +the crowd and followed them in. They were seven in all, and among them +the blacksmith, an ex-soldier. The servant appealed deferentially to the +officer. + +“Won't your honour be pleased to tell the people to go back to their +homes? What do they want to push themselves into the house like this +for? It's not proper for them to behave like this while our master's +away and I am responsible for everything here.” + +The officer only laughed a little, and after a while inquired: + +“Have you any arms in the house?” + +“Yes. We have. Some old things.” + +“Bring them all here, onto this table.” + +The servant made another attempt to obtain protection. + +“Won't your honour tell these chaps. . . ?” + +But the officer looked at him in silence, in such a way that he gave it +up at once and hurried off to call the pantry-boy to help him collect +the arms. Meantime, the officer walked slowly through all the rooms in +the house, examining them attentively but touching nothing. The peasants +in the hall fell back and took off their caps when he passed through. +He said nothing whatever to them. When he came back to the study all the +arms to be found in the house were lying on the table. There was a pair +of big, flint-lock holster pistols from Napoleonic times, two cavalry +swords, one of the French, the other of the Polish army pattern, with a +fowling-piece or two. + +The officer, opening the window, flung out pistols, swords, and guns, +one after another, and his troopers ran to pick them up. The peasants in +the hall, encouraged by his manner, had stolen after him into the study. +He gave not the slightest sign of being conscious of their existence, +and, his business being apparently concluded, strode out of the house +without a word. Directly he left, the peasants in the study put on their +caps and began to smile at each other. + +The Cossacks rode away, passing through the yards of the home farm +straight into the fields. The priest, still arguing with the peasants, +moved gradually down the drive and his earnest eloquence was drawing the +silent mob after him, away from the house. This justice must be rendered +to the parish priests of the Greek Church that, strangers to the country +as they were (being all drawn from the interior of Russia), the majority +of them used such influence as they had over their flocks in the cause +of peace and humanity. True to the spirit of their calling, they tried +to soothe the passions of the excited peasantry, and opposed rapine and +violence, whenever they could, with all their might. And this conduct +they pursued against the express wishes of the authorities. Later on +some of them were made to suffer for this disobedience by being removed +abruptly to the far north or sent away to Siberian parishes. + +The servant was anxious to get rid of the few peasants who had got into +the house. What sort of conduct was that, he asked them, toward a man +who was only a tenant, had been invariably good and considerate to the +villagers for years, and only the other day had agreed to give up two +meadows for the use of the village herd? He reminded them, too, of Mr. +Nicholas B.'s devotion to the sick in time of cholera. Every word of +this was true, and so far effective that the fellows began to scratch +their heads and look irresolute. The speaker then pointed at the window, +exclaiming: “Look! there's all your crowd going away quietly, and you +silly chaps had better go after them and pray God to forgive you your +evil thoughts.” + +This appeal was an unlucky inspiration. + +In crowding clumsily to the window to see whether he was speaking the +truth, the fellows overturned the little writing-table. As it fell over +a chink of loose coin was heard. “There's money in that thing,” cried +the blacksmith. In a moment the top of the delicate piece of furniture +was smashed and there lay exposed in a drawer eighty half imperials. +Gold coin was a rare sight in Russia even at that time; it put the +peasants beside themselves. “There must be more of that in the house, +and we shall have it,” yelled the ex-soldier blacksmith. “This is +war-time.” The others were already shouting out of the window, urging +the crowd to come back and help. The priest, abandoned suddenly at the +gate, flung his arms up and hurried away so as not to see what was going +to happen. + +In their search for money that bucolic mob smashed everything in the +house, ripping with knives, splitting with hatchets, so that, as the +servant said, there were no two pieces of wood holding together left in +the whole house. They broke some very fine mirrors, all the windows, and +every piece of glass and china. They threw the books and papers out +on the lawn and set fire to the heap for the mere fun of the thing, +apparently. Absolutely the only one solitary thing which they left whole +was a small ivory crucifix, which remained hanging on the wall in +the wrecked bedroom above a wild heap of rags, broken mahogany, and +splintered boards which had been Mr. Nicholas B.'s bedstead. Detecting +the servant in the act of stealing away with a japanned tin box, they +tore it from him, and because he resisted they threw him out of the +dining-room window. The house was on one floor, but raised well above +the ground, and the fall was so serious that the man remained lying +stunned till the cook and a stable-boy ventured forth at dusk from their +hiding-places and picked him up. But by that time the mob had departed, +carrying off the tin box, which they supposed to be full of paper money. +Some distance from the house, in the middle of a field, they broke it +open. They found in side documents engrossed on parchment and the two +crosses of the Legion of Honour and For Valour. At the sight of these +objects, which, the blacksmith explained, were marks of honour given +only by the Tsar, they became extremely frightened at what they had +done. They threw the whole lot away into a ditch and dispersed hastily. + +On learning of this particular loss Mr. Nicholas B. broke down +completely. The mere sacking of his house did not seem to affect him +much. While he was still in bed from the shock, the two crosses were +found and returned to him. It helped somewhat his slow convalescence, +but the tin box and the parchments, though searched for in all the +ditches around, never turned up again. He could not get over the loss of +his Legion of Honour Patent, whose preamble, setting forth his services, +he knew by heart to the very letter, and after this blow volunteered +sometimes to recite, tears standing in his eyes the while. Its terms +haunted him apparently during the last two years of his life to such an +extent that he used to repeat them to himself. This is confirmed by +the remark made more than once by his old servant to the more intimate +friends. “What makes my heart heavy is to hear our master in his room at +night walking up and down and praying aloud in the French language.” + +It must have been somewhat over a year afterward that I saw Mr. Nicholas +B.--or, more correctly, that he saw me--for the last time. It was, as I +have already said, at the time when my mother had a three months' leave +from exile, which she was spending in the house of her brother, and +friends and relations were coming from far and near to do her honour. +It is inconceivable that Mr. Nicholas B. should not have been of the +number. The little child a few months old he had taken up in his arms on +the day of his home-coming, after years of war and exile, was confessing +her faith in national salvation by suffering exile in her turn. I do not +know whether he was present on the very day of our departure. + +I have already admitted that for me he is more especially the man who +in his youth had eaten roast dog in the depths of a gloomy forest of +snow-loaded pines. My memory cannot place him in any remembered scene. +A hooked nose, some sleek white hair, an unrelated evanescent impression +of a meagre, slight, rigid figure militarily buttoned up to the throat, +is all that now exists on earth of Mr. Nicholas B.; only this vague +shadow pursued by the memory of his grandnephew, the last surviving +human being, I suppose, of all those he had seen in the course of his +taciturn life. + +But I remember well the day of our departure back to exile. The +elongated, bizarre, shabby travelling-carriage with four post-horses, +standing before the long front of the house with its eight columns, +four on each side of the broad flight of stairs. On the steps, groups +of servants, a few relations, one or two friends from the nearest +neighbourhood, a perfect silence; on all the faces an air of sober +concentration; my grandmother, all in black, gazing stoically; my uncle +giving his arm to my mother down to the carriage in which I had been +placed already; at the top of the flight my little cousin in a short +skirt of a tartan pattern with a deal of red in it, and like a +small princess attended by the women of her own household; the head +gouvernante, our dear, corpulent Francesca (who had been for thirty +years in the service of the B. family), the former nurse, now outdoor +attendant, a handsome peasant face wearing a compassionate expression, +and the good, ugly Mlle. Durand, the governess, with her black eyebrows +meeting over a short, thick nose, and a complexion like pale-brown +paper. Of all the eyes turned toward the carriage, her good-natured eyes +only were dropping tears, and it was her sobbing voice alone that +broke the silence with an appeal to me: “_N'oublie pas ton francais, mon +cheri_.” In three months, simply by playing with us, she had taught me +not only to speak French, but to read it as well. She was indeed an +excellent playmate. In the distance, half-way down to the great gates, a +light, open trap, harnessed with three horses in Russian fashion, stood +drawn up on one side, with the police captain of the district sitting in +it, the vizor of his flat cap with a red band pulled down over his eyes. + +It seems strange that he should have been there to watch our going so +carefully. Without wishing to treat with levity the just timidites of +Imperialists all the world over, I may allow myself the reflection that +a woman, practically condemned by the doctors, and a small boy not quite +six years old, could not be regarded as seriously dangerous, even for +the largest of conceivable empires saddled with the most sacred of +responsibilities. And this good man I believe did not think so, either. + +I learned afterward why he was present on that day. I don't remember any +outward signs; but it seems that, about a month before, my mother became +so unwell that there was a doubt whether she could be made fit to +travel in the time. In this uncertainty the Governor-General in Kiev was +petitioned to grant her a fortnight's extension of stay in her brother's +house. No answer whatever was returned to this prayer, but one day at +dusk the police captain of the district drove up to the house and told +my uncle's valet, who ran out to meet him, that he wanted to speak with +the master in private, at once. Very much impressed (he thought it was +going to be an arrest), the servant, “more dead than alive with fright,” + as he related afterward, smuggled him through the big drawing-room, +which was dark (that room was not lighted every evening), on tiptoe, so +as not to attract the attention of the ladies in the house, and led him +by way of the orangery to my uncle's private apartments. + +The policeman, without any preliminaries, thrust a paper into my uncle's +hands. + +“There. Pray read this. I have no business to show this paper to you. It +is wrong of me. But I can't either eat or sleep with such a job hanging +over me.” + +That police captain, a native of Great Russia, had been for many years +serving in the district. + +My uncle unfolded and read the document. It was a service order issued +from the Governor-General's secretariat, dealing with the matter of the +petition and directing the police captain to disregard all remonstrances +and explanations in regard to that illness either from medical men or +others, “and if she has not left her brother's house”--it went on to +say--“on the morning of the day specified on her permit, you are +to despatch her at once under escort, direct” (underlined) “to the +prison-hospital in Kiev, where she will be treated as her case demands.” + +“For God's sake, Mr. B., see that your sister goes away punctually on +that day. Don't give me this work to do with a woman--and with one of +your family, too. I simply cannot bear to think of it.” + +He was absolutely wringing his hands. My uncle looked at him in silence. + +“Thank you for this warning. I assure you that even if she were dying +she would be carried out to the carriage.” + +“Yes--indeed--and what difference would it make--travel to Kiev or back +to her husband? For she would have to go--death or no death. And mind, +Mr. B., I will be here on the day, not that I doubt your promise, but +because I must. I have got to. Duty. All the same my trade is not fit +for a dog since some of you Poles will persist in rebelling, and all of +you have got to suffer for it.” + +This is the reason why he was there in an open three-horse trap pulled +up between the house and the great gates. I regret not being able to +give up his name to the scorn of all believers in the right of conquest, +as a reprehensibly sensitive guardian of Imperial greatness. On the +other hand, I am in a position to state the name of the Governor-General +who signed the order with the marginal note “to be carried out to the +letter” in his own handwriting. The gentleman's name was Bezak. A high +dignitary, an energetic official, the idol for a time of the Russian +patriotic press. + +Each generation has its memories. + + +IV + +It must not be supposed that, in setting forth the memories of this +half-hour between the moment my uncle left my room till we met again at +dinner, I am losing sight of “Almayer's Folly.” Having confessed that my +first novel was begun in idleness--a holiday task--I think I have also +given the impression that it was a much-delayed book. It was never +dismissed from my mind, even when the hope of ever finishing it was very +faint. Many things came in its way: daily duties, new impressions, +old memories. It was not the outcome of a need--the famous need of +self-expression which artists find in their search for motives. +The necessity which impelled me was a hidden, obscure necessity, a +completely masked and unaccountable phenomenon. Or perhaps some idle and +frivolous magician (there must be magicians in London) had cast a spell +over me through his parlour window as I explored the maze of streets +east and west in solitary leisurely walks without chart and compass. +Till I began to write that novel I had written nothing but letters, and +not very many of these. I never made a note of a fact, of an impression, +or of an anecdote in my life. The conception of a planned book was +entirely outside my mental range when I sat down to write; the ambition +of being an author had never turned up among those gracious imaginary +existences one creates fondly for oneself at times in the stillness and +immobility of a day-dream: yet it stands clear as the sun at noonday +that from the moment I had done blackening over the first manuscript +page of “Almayer's Folly” (it contained about two hundred words and this +proportion of words to a page has remained with me through the fifteen +years of my writing life), from the moment I had, in the simplicity of +my heart and the amazing ignorance of my mind, written that page the die +was cast. Never had Rubicon been more blindly forded without invocation +to the gods, without fear of men. + +That morning I got up from my breakfast, pushing the chair back, and +rang the bell violently, or perhaps I should say resolutely, or perhaps +I should say eagerly--I do not know. But manifestly it must have been +a special ring of the bell, a common sound made impressive, like the +ringing of a bell for the raising of the curtain upon a new scene. +It was an unusual thing for me to do. Generally, I dawdled over my +breakfast and I seldom took the trouble to ring the bell for the table +to be cleared away; but on that morning, for some reason hidden in the +general mysteriousness of the event, I did not dawdle. And yet I was +not in a hurry. I pulled the cord casually, and while the faint tinkling +somewhere down in the basement went on, I charged my pipe in the usual +way and I looked for the match-box with glances distraught indeed, +but exhibiting, I am ready to swear, no signs of a fine frenzy. I was +composed enough to perceive after some considerable time the match-box +lying there on the mantelpiece right under my nose. And all this was +beautifully and safely usual. Before I had thrown down the match my +landlady's daughter appeared with her calm, pale face and an inquisitive +look, in the doorway. Of late it was the landlady's daughter who +answered my bell. I mention this little fact with pride, because it +proves that during the thirty or forty days of my tenancy I had produced +a favourable impression. For a fortnight past I had been spared the +unattractive sight of the domestic slave. The girls in that Bessborough +Gardens house were often changed, but whether short or long, fair or +dark, they were always untidy and particularly bedraggled, as if in a +sordid version of the fairy tale the ash-bin cat had been changed into +a maid. I was infinitely sensible of the privilege of being waited on by +my landlady's daughter. She was neat if anemic. + +“Will you please clear away all this at once?” I addressed her in +convulsive accents, being at the same time engaged in getting my pipe +to draw. This, I admit, was an unusual request. Generally, on getting up +from breakfast I would sit down in the window with a book and let them +clear the table when they liked; but if you think that on that morning +I was in the least impatient, you are mistaken. I remember that I was +perfectly calm. As a matter of fact I was not at all certain that I +wanted to write, or that I meant to write, or that I had anything to +write about. No, I was not impatient. I lounged between the mantelpiece +and the window, not even consciously waiting for the table to be +cleared. It was ten to one that before my landlady's daughter was done I +would pick up a book and sit down with it all the morning in a spirit of +enjoyable indolence. I affirm it with assurance, and I don't even know +now what were the books then lying about the room. What ever they were, +they were not the works of great masters, where the secret of clear +thought and exact expression can be found. Since the age of five I have +been a great reader, as is not perhaps wonderful in a child who was +never aware of learning to read. At ten years of age I had read much +of Victor Hugo and other romantics. I had read in Polish and in French, +history, voyages, novels; I knew “Gil Blas” and “Don Quixote” in +abridged editions; I had read in early boyhood Polish poets and some +French poets, but I cannot say what I read on the evening before I began +to write myself. I believe it was a novel, and it is quite possible +that it was one of Anthony Trollope's novels. It is very likely. My +acquaintance with him was then very recent. He is one of the English +novelists whose works I read for the first time in English. With men of +European reputation, with Dickens and Walter Scott and Thackeray, it was +otherwise. My first introduction to English imaginative literature was +“Nicholas Nickleby.” It is extraordinary how well Mrs. Nickleby could +chatter disconnectedly in Polish and the sinister Ralph rage in that +language. As to the Crummles family and the family of the learned +Squeers it seemed as natural to them as their native speech. It was, I +have no doubt, an excellent translation. This must have been in the year +'70. But I really believe that I am wrong. That book was not my first +introduction to English literature. My first acquaintance was (or were) +the “Two Gentlemen of Verona,” and that in the very MS. of my father's +translation. It was during our exile in Russia, and it must have been +less than a year after my mother's death, because I remember myself +in the black blouse with a white border of my heavy mourning. We were +living together, quite alone, in a small house on the outskirts of the +town of T----. That afternoon, instead of going out to play in the large +yard which we shared with our landlord, I had lingered in the room in +which my father generally wrote. What emboldened me to clamber into +his chair I am sure I don't know, but a couple of hours afterward he +discovered me kneeling in it with my elbows on the table and my head +held in both hands over the MS. of loose pages. I was greatly confused, +expecting to get into trouble. He stood in the doorway looking at me +with some surprise, but the only thing he said after a moment of silence +was: + +“Read the page aloud.” + +Luckily the page lying before me was not overblotted with erasures +and corrections, and my father's handwriting was otherwise extremely +legible. When I got to the end he nodded, and I flew out-of-doors, +thinking myself lucky to have escaped reproof for that piece of +impulsive audacity. I have tried to discover since the reason for this +mildness, and I imagine that all unknown to myself I had earned, in +my father's mind, the right to some latitude in my relations with his +writing-table. It was only a month before--or perhaps it was only a week +before--that I had read to him aloud from beginning to end, and to his +perfect satisfaction, as he lay on his bed, not being very well at the +time, the proofs of his translation of Victor Hugo's “Toilers of the +Sea.” Such was my title to consideration, I believe, and also my first +introduction to the sea in literature. + +If I do not remember where, how, and when I learned to read, I am not +likely to forget the process of being trained in the art of reading +aloud. My poor father, an admirable reader himself, was the most +exacting of masters. I reflect proudly that I must have read that page +of “Two Gentlemen of Verona” tolerably well at the age of eight. The +next time I met them was in a 5s. one-volume edition of the dramatic +works of William Shakespeare, read in Falmouth, at odd moments of the +day, to the noisy accompaniment of calkers' mallets driving oakum +into the deck-seams of a ship in dry-dock. We had run in, in a sinking +condition and with the crew refusing duty after a month of weary +battling with the gales of the North Atlantic. Books are an integral +part of one's life, and my Shakespearian associations are with that +first year of our bereavement, the last I spent with my father in exile +(he sent me away to Poland to my mother's brother directly he could +brace himself up for the separation), and with the year of hard gales, +the year in which I came nearest to death at sea, first by water and +then by fire. + +Those things I remember, but what I was reading the day before my +writing life began I have forgotten. I have only a vague notion that it +might have been one of Trollope's political novels. And I remember, +too, the character of the day. It was an autumn day with an opaline +atmosphere, a veiled, semi-opaque, lustrous day, with fiery points and +flashes of red sunlight on the roofs and windows opposite, while the +trees of the square, with all their leaves gone, were like the tracings +of India ink on a sheet of tissue-paper. It was one of those London days +that have the charm of mysterious amenity, of fascinating softness. +The effect of opaline mist was often repeated at Bessborough Gardens on +account of the nearness to the river. + +There is no reason why I should remember that effect more on that day +than on any other day, except that I stood for a long time looking out +of the window after the landlady's daughter was gone with her spoil +of cups and saucers. I heard her put the tray down in the passage and +finally shut the door; and still I remained smoking, with my back to the +room. It is very clear that I was in no haste to take the plunge into my +writing life, if as plunge this first attempt may be described. My whole +being was steeped deep in the indolence of a sailor away from the +sea, the scene of never-ending labour and of unceasing duty. For utter +surrender to indolence you cannot beat a sailor ashore when that mood +is on him--the mood of absolute irresponsibility tasted to the full. +It seems to me that I thought of nothing whatever, but this is an +impression which is hardly to be believed at this distance of years. +What I am certain of is that I was very far from thinking of writing a +story, though it is possible and even likely that I was thinking of the +man Almayer. + +I had seen him for the first time, some four years before, from the +bridge of a steamer moored to a rickety little wharf forty miles up, +more or less, a Bornean river. It was very early morning, and a slight +mist--an opaline mist as in Bessborough Gardens, only without the +fiery flicks on roof and chimney-pot from the rays of the red London +sun--promised to turn presently into a woolly fog. Barring a small +dug-out canoe on the river there was nothing moving within sight. I had +just come up yawning from my cabin. The serang and the Malay crew +were overhauling the cargo chains and trying the winches; their voices +sounded subdued on the deck below, and their movements were languid. +That tropical daybreak was chilly. The Malay quartermaster, coming up +to get something from the lockers on the bridge, shivered visibly. The +forests above and below and on the opposite bank looked black and dank; +wet dripped from the rigging upon the tightly stretched deck awnings, +and it was in the middle of a shuddering yawn that I caught sight +of Almayer. He was moving across a patch of burned grass, a blurred, +shadowy shape with the blurred bulk of a house behind him, a low house +of mats, bamboos, and palm leaves, with a high-pitched roof of grass. + +He stepped upon the jetty. He was clad simply in flapping pajamas of +cretonne pattern (enormous flowers with yellow petals on a disagreeable +blue ground) and a thin cotton singlet with short sleeves. His arms, +bare to the elbow, were crossed on his chest. His black hair looked +as if it had not been cut for a very long time, and a curly wisp of +it strayed across his forehead. I had heard of him at Singapore; I had +heard of him on board; I had heard of him early in the morning and late +at night; I had heard of him at tiffin and at dinner; I had heard of +him in a place called Pulo Laut from a half-caste gentleman there, who +described himself as the manager of a coal-mine; which sounded civilized +and progressive till you heard that the mine could not be worked at +present because it was haunted by some particularly atrocious ghosts. +I had heard of him in a place called Dongola, in the Island of Celebes, +when the Rajah of that little-known seaport (you can get no anchorage +there in less than fifteen fathom, which is extremely inconvenient) came +on board in a friendly way, with only two attendants, and drank bottle +after bottle of soda-water on the after-sky light with my good friend +and commander, Captain C----. At least I heard his name distinctly +pronounced several times in a lot of talk in Malay language. Oh, yes, +I heard it quite distinctly--Almayer, Almayer--and saw Captain C---- +smile, while the fat, dingy Rajah laughed audibly. To hear a Malay Rajah +laugh outright is a rare experience, I can assure you. And I overheard +more of Almayer's name among our deck passengers (mostly wandering +traders of good repute) as they sat all over the ship--each man fenced +round with bundles and boxes--on mats, on pillows, on quilts, on billets +of wood, conversing of Island affairs. Upon my word, I heard the mutter +of Almayer's name faintly at midnight, while making my way aft from the +bridge to look at the patent taffrail-log tinkling its quarter miles in +the great silence of the sea. I don't mean to say that our passengers +dreamed aloud of Almayer, but it is indubitable that two of them at +least, who could not sleep, apparently, and were trying to charm away +the trouble of insomnia by a little whispered talk at that ghostly hour, +were referring in some way or other to Almayer. It was really impossible +on board that ship to get away definitely from Almayer; and a very small +pony tied up forward and whisking its tail inside the galley, to the +great embarrassment of our Chinaman cook, was destined for Almayer. What +he wanted with a pony goodness only knows, since I am perfectly certain +he could not ride it; but here you have the man, ambitious, aiming at +the grandiose, importing a pony, whereas in the whole settlement at +which he used to shake daily his impotent fist there was only one path +that was practicable for a pony: a quarter of a mile at most, hedged +in by hundreds of square leagues of virgin forest. But who knows? The +importation of that Bali pony might have been part of some deep scheme, +of some diplomatic plan, of some hopeful intrigue. With Almayer one +could never tell. He governed his conduct by considerations removed +from the obvious, by incredible assumptions, which rendered his logic +impenetrable to any reasonable person. I learned all this later. That +morning, seeing the figure in pajamas moving in the mist, I said to +myself, “That's the man.” + +He came quite close to the ship's side and raised a harassed +countenance, round and flat, with that curl of black hair over the +forehead and a heavy, pained glance. + +“Good morning.” + +“Good morning.” + +He looked hard at me: I was a new face, having just replaced the chief +mate he was accustomed to see; and I think that this novelty inspired +him, as things generally did, with deep-seated mistrust. + +“Didn't expect you till this evening,” he remarked, suspiciously. + +I didn't know why he should have been aggrieved, but he seemed to be. +I took pains to explain to him that, having picked up the beacon at the +mouth of the river just before dark and the tide serving, Captain C---- +was enabled to cross the bar and there was nothing to prevent him going +up the river at night. + +“Captain C---- knows this river like his own pocket,” I concluded, +discursively, trying to get on terms. + +“Better,” said Almayer. + +Leaning over the rail of the bridge, I looked at Almayer, who looked +down at the wharf in aggrieved thought. He shuffled his feet a little; +he wore straw slippers with thick soles. The morning fog had thickened +considerably. Everything round us dripped--the derricks, the rails, +every single rope in the ship--as if a fit of crying had come upon the +universe. + +Almayer again raised his head and, in the accents of a man accustomed to +the buffets of evil fortune, asked, hardly audibly: + +“I suppose you haven't got such a thing as a pony on board?” + +I told him, almost in a whisper, for he attuned my communications to his +minor key, that we had such a thing as a pony, and I hinted, as gently +as I could, that he was confoundedly in the way, too. I was very anxious +to have him landed before I began to handle the cargo. Almayer remained +looking up at me for a long while, with incredulous and melancholy eyes, +as though it were not a safe thing to believe in my statement. This +pathetic mistrust in the favourable issue of any sort of affair touched +me deeply, and I added: + +“He doesn't seem a bit the worse for the passage. He's a nice pony, +too.” + +Almayer was not to be cheered up; for all answer he cleared his throat +and looked down again at his feet. I tried to close with him on another +tack. + +“By Jove!” I said. “Aren't you afraid of catching pneumonia or +bronchitis or some thing, walking about in a singlet in such a wet fog?” + +He was not to be propitiated by a show of interest in his health. + +His answer was a sinister “No fear,” as much as to say that even that +way of escape from inclement fortune was closed to him. + +“I just came down . . .” he mumbled after a while. + +“Well, then, now you're here I will land that pony for you at once, +and you can lead him home. I really don't want him on deck. He's in the +way.” + +Almayer seemed doubtful. I insisted: + +“Why, I will just swing him out and land him on the wharf right in front +of you. I'd much rather do it before the hatches are off. The little +devil may jump down the hold or do some other deadly thing.” + +“There's a halter?” postulated Almayer. + +“Yes, of course there's a halter.” And without waiting any more I leaned +over the bridge rail. + +“Serang, land Tuan Almayer's pony.” + +The cook hastened to shut the door of the galley, and a moment later a +great scuffle began on deck. The pony kicked with extreme energy, the +kalashes skipped out of the way, the serang issued many orders in a +cracked voice. Suddenly the pony leaped upon the fore-hatch. His little +hoofs thundered tremendously; he plunged and reared. He had tossed his +mane and his forelock into a state of amazing wildness, he dilated his +nostrils, bits of foam flecked his broad little chest, his eyes blazed. +He was something under eleven hands; he was fierce, terrible, angry, +warlike; he said ha! ha! distinctly; he raged and thumped--and sixteen +able-bodied kalashes stood round him like disconcerted nurses round a +spoiled and passionate child. He whisked his tail incessantly; he arched +his pretty neck; he was perfectly delightful; he was charmingly naughty. +There was not an atom of vice in that performance; no savage baring of +teeth and laying back of ears. On the contrary, he pricked them forward +in a comically aggressive manner. He was totally unmoral and lovable; I +would have liked to give him bread, sugar, carrots. But life is a stern +thing and the sense of duty the only safe guide. So I steeled my heart, +and from my elevated position on the bridge I ordered the men to fling +themselves upon him in a body. + +The elderly serang, emitting a strange, inarticulate cry, gave the +example. He was an excellent petty officer--very competent, indeed, and +a moderate opium-smoker. The rest of them in one great rush smothered +that pony. They hung on to his ears, to his mane, to his tail; they lay +in piles across his back, seventeen in all. The carpenter, seizing +the hook of the cargo-chain, flung himself on the top of them. A very +satisfactory petty officer, too, but he stuttered. Have you ever heard +a light-yellow, lean, sad, earnest Chinaman stutter in Pidgin-English? +It's very weird, indeed. He made the eighteenth. I could not see the +pony at all; but from the swaying and heaving of that heap of men I knew +that there was something alive inside. + +From the wharf Almayer hailed, in quavering tones: + +“Oh, I say!” + +Where he stood he could not see what was going on on deck, unless, +perhaps, the tops of the men's heads; he could only hear the scuffle, +the mighty thuds, as if the ship were being knocked to pieces. I looked +over: “What is it?” + +“Don't let them break his legs,” he entreated me, plaintively. + +“Oh, nonsense! He's all right now. He can't move.” + +By that time the cargo-chain had been hooked to the broad canvas belt +round the pony's body; the kalashes sprang off simultaneously in all +directions, rolling over each other; and the worthy serang, making a +dash behind the winch, turned the steam on. + +“Steady!” I yelled, in great apprehension of seeing the animal snatched +up to the very head of the derrick. + +On the wharf Almayer shuffled his straw slippers uneasily. The rattle of +the winch stopped, and in a tense, impressive silence that pony began to +swing across the deck. + +How limp he was! Directly he felt himself in the air he relaxed every +muscle in a most wonderful manner. His four hoofs knocked together in a +bunch, his head hung down, and his tail remained pendent in a nerveless +and absolute immobility. He reminded me vividly of the pathetic little +sheep which hangs on the collar of the Order of the Golden Fleece. I had +no idea that anything in the shape of a horse could be so limp as that, +either living or dead. His wild mane hung down lumpily, a mere mass of +inanimate horsehair; his aggressive ears had collapsed, but as he went +swaying slowly across the front of the bridge I noticed an astute gleam +in his dreamy, half-closed eye. A trustworthy quartermaster, his glance +anxious and his mouth on the broad grin, was easing over the derrick +watchfully. I superintended, greatly interested. + +“So! That will do.” + +The derrick-head stopped. The kalashes lined the rail. The rope of the +halter hung perpendicular and motionless like a bell-pull in front of +Almayer. Everything was very still. I suggested amicably that he +should catch hold of the rope and mind what he was about. He extended a +provokingly casual and superior hand. + +“Look out, then! Lower away!” + +Almayer gathered in the rope intelligently enough, but when the pony's +hoofs touched the wharf he gave way all at once to a most foolish +optimism. Without pausing, without thinking, almost without looking, he +disengaged the hook suddenly from the sling, and the cargo-chain, after +hitting the pony's quarters, swung back against the ship's side with +a noisy, rattling slap. I suppose I must have blinked. I know I missed +something, because the next thing I saw was Almayer lying flat on his +back on the jetty. He was alone. + +Astonishment deprived me of speech long enough to give Almayer time to +pick himself up in a leisurely and painful manner. The kalashes lining +the rail all had their mouths open. The mist flew in the light breeze, +and it had come over quite thick enough to hide the shore completely. + +“How on earth did you manage to let him get away?” I asked, scandalized. + +Almayer looked into the smarting palm of his right hand, but did not +answer my inquiry. + +“Where do you think he will get to?” I cried. “Are there any fences +anywhere in this fog? Can he bolt into the forest? What's to be done +now?” + +Almayer shrugged his shoulders. + +“Some of my men are sure to be about. They will get hold of him sooner +or later.” + +“Sooner or later! That's all very fine, but what about my canvas +sling?--he's carried it off. I want it now, at once, to land two Celebes +cows.” + +Since Dongola we had on board a pair of the pretty little island cattle +in addition to the pony. Tied up on the other side of the fore-deck they +had been whisking their tails into the other door of the galley. These +cows were not for Almayer, however; they were invoiced to Abdullah bin +Selim, his enemy. Almayer's disregard of my requirements was complete. + +“If I were you I would try to find out where he's gone,” I insisted. +“Hadn't you better call your men together or something? He will throw +himself down and cut his knees. He may even break a leg, you know.” + +But Almayer, plunged in abstracted thought, did not seem to want that +pony any more. Amazed at this sudden indifference, I turned all hands +out on shore to hunt for him on my own account, or, at any rate, to hunt +for the canvas sling which he had round his body. The whole crew of +the steamer, with the exception of firemen and engineers, rushed up +the jetty, past the thoughtful Almayer, and vanished from my sight. The +white fog swallowed them up; and again there was a deep silence that +seemed to extend for miles up and down the stream. Still taciturn, +Almayer started to climb on board, and I went down from the bridge to +meet him on the after-deck. + +“Would you mind telling the captain that I want to see him very +particularly?” he asked me, in a low tone, letting his eyes stray all +over the place. + +“Very well. I will go and see.” + +With the door of his cabin wide open, Captain C----, just back from +the bath-room, big and broad-chested, was brushing his thick, damp, +iron-gray hair with two large brushes. + +“Mr. Almayer told me he wanted to see you very particularly, sir.” + +Saying these words, I smiled. I don't know why I smiled, except that it +seemed absolutely impossible to mention Almayer's name without a smile +of a sort. It had not to be necessarily a mirthful smile. Turning his +head toward me, Captain C---- smiled, too, rather joylessly. + +“The pony got away from him--eh?” + +“Yes, sir. He did.” + +“Where is he?” + +“Goodness only knows.” + +“No. I mean Almayer. Let him come along.” + +The captain's stateroom opening straight on deck under the bridge, I had +only to beckon from the doorway to Almayer, who had remained aft, with +downcast eyes, on the very spot where I had left him. He strolled up +moodily, shook hands, and at once asked permission to shut the cabin +door. + +“I have a pretty story to tell you,” were the last words I heard. + +The bitterness of tone was remarkable. + +I went away from the door, of course. For the moment I had no crew on +board; only the Chinaman carpenter, with a canvas bag hung round his +neck and a hammer in his hand, roamed about the empty decks, +knocking out the wedges of the hatches and dropping them into the bag +conscientiously. Having nothing to do I joined our two engineers at the +door of the engine-room. It was near breakfast-time. + +“He's turned up early, hasn't he?” commented the second engineer, and +smiled indifferently. He was an abstemious man, with a good digestion +and a placid, reasonable view of life even when hungry. + +“Yes,” I said. “Shut up with the old man. Some very particular +business.” + +“He will spin him a damned endless yarn,” observed the chief engineer. + +He smiled rather sourly. He was dyspeptic, and suffered from gnawing +hunger in the morning. The second smiled broadly, a smile that made two +vertical folds on his shaven cheeks. And I smiled, too, but I was not +exactly amused. In that man, whose name apparently could not be uttered +anywhere in the Malay Archipelago without a smile, there was nothing +amusing whatever. That morning he breakfasted with us silently, looking +mostly into his cup. I informed him that my men came upon his pony +capering in the fog on the very brink of the eight-foot-deep well in +which he kept his store of guttah. The cover was off, with no one near +by, and the whole of my crew just missed going heels over head into +that beastly hole. Jurumudi Itam, our best quartermaster, deft at fine +needlework, he who mended the ship's flags and sewed buttons on our +coats, was disabled by a kick on the shoulder. + +Both remorse and gratitude seemed foreign to Almayer's character. + +He mumbled: + +“Do you mean that pirate fellow?” + +“What pirate fellow? The man has been in the ship eleven years,” I said, +indignantly. + +“It's his looks,” Almayer muttered, for all apology. + +The sun had eaten up the fog. From where we sat under the after-awning +we could see in the distance the pony tied up, in front of Almayer's +house, to a post of the veranda. We were silent for a long time. All at +once Almayer, alluding evidently to the subject of his conversation in +the captain's cabin, exclaimed anxiously across the table: + +“I really don't know what I can do now!” + +Captain C---- only raised his eyebrows at him, and got up from his +chair. We dispersed to our duties, but Almayer, half dressed as he was +in his cretonne pajamas and the thin cotton singlet, remained on board, +lingering near the gangway, as though he could not make up his mind +whether to go home or stay with us for good. + +Our Chinamen boys gave him side glances as they went to and fro; and +Ah Sing, our chief steward, the handsomest and most sympathetic of +Chinamen, catching my eye, nodded knowingly at his burly back. In the +course of the morning I approached him for a moment. + +“Well, Mr. Almayer,” I addressed him, easily, “you haven't started on +your letters yet.” + +We had brought him his mail, and he had held the bundle in his hand ever +since we got up from breakfast. He glanced at it when I spoke, and for +a moment it looked as if he were on the point of opening his fingers and +letting the whole lot fall overboard. I believe he was tempted to do so. +I shall never forget that man afraid of his letters. + +“Have you been long out from Europe?” he asked me. + +“Not very. Not quite eight months,” I told him. “I left a ship in +Samarang with a hurt back, and have been in the hospital in Singapore +some weeks.” + +He sighed. + +“Trade is very bad here.” + +“Indeed!” + +“Hopeless! . . . See these geese?” + +With the hand holding the letters he pointed out to me what resembled +a patch of snow creeping and swaying across the distant part of his +compound. It disappeared behind some bushes. + +“The only geese on the East Coast,” Almayer informed me, in a +perfunctory mutter without a spark of faith, hope, or pride. Thereupon, +with the same absence of any sort of sustaining spirit, he declared his +intention to select a fat bird and send him on board for us not later +than next day. + +I had heard of these largesses before. He conferred a goose as if it +were a sort of court decoration given only to the tried friends of the +house. I had expected more pomp in the ceremony. The gift had surely +its special quality, multiple and rare. From the only flock on the East +Coast! He did not make half enough of it. That man did not understand +his opportunities. However, I thanked him at some length. + +“You see,” he interrupted, abruptly, in a very peculiar tone, “the worst +of this country is that one is not able to realize . . . it's impossible +to realize. . . .” His voice sank into a languid mutter. “And when +one has very large interests . . . very important interests . . .” he +finished, faintly . . . “up the river.” + +We looked at each other. He astonished me by giving a start and making a +very queer grimace. + +“Well, I must be off,” he burst out, hurriedly. “So long!” + +At the moment of stepping over the gangway he checked himself, though, +to give me a mumbled invitation to dine at his house that evening with +my captain, an invitation which I accepted. I don't think it could have +been possible for me to refuse. + +I like the worthy folk who will talk to you of the exercise of +free-will, “at any rate for practical purposes.” Free, is it? For +practical purposes! Bosh! How could I have refused to dine with that +man? I did not refuse, simply because I could not refuse. Curiosity, a +healthy desire for a change of cooking, common civility, the talk and +the smiles of the previous twenty days, every condition of my existence +at that moment and place made irresistibly for acceptance; and, crowning +all that, there was the ignorance--the ignorance, I say--the fatal want +of fore knowledge to counterbalance these imperative conditions of the +problem. A refusal would have appeared perverse and insane. Nobody, +unless a surly lunatic, would have refused. But if I had not got to know +Almayer pretty well it is almost certain there would never have been a +line of mine in print. + +I accepted then--and I am paying yet the price of my sanity. The +possessor of the only flock of geese on the East Coast is responsible +for the existence of some fourteen volumes, so far. The number of +geese he had called into being under adverse climatic conditions was +considerably more than fourteen. The tale of volumes will never overtake +the counting of heads, I am safe to say; but my ambitions point not +exactly that way, and whatever the pangs the toil of writing has cost me +I have always thought kindly of Almayer. + +I wonder, had he known anything of it, what his attitude would have +been? This is something not to be discovered in this world. + +But if we ever meet in the Elysian Fields--where I cannot depict him +to myself otherwise than attended in the distance by his flock of geese +(birds sacred to Jupiter)--and he addresses me in the stillness of +that passionless region, neither light nor darkness, neither sound nor +silence, and heaving endlessly with billowy mists from the impalpable +multitudes of the swarming dead, I think I know what answer to make. + +I would say, after listening courteously to the unvibrating tone of his +measured remonstrances, which should not disturb, of course, the solemn +eternity of stillness in the least--I would say something like this: + +“It is true, Almayer, that in the world below I have converted your name +to my own uses. But that is a very small larceny. What's in a name, O +Shade? If so much of your old mortal weakness clings to you yet as +to make you feel aggrieved (it was the note of your earthly voice, +Almayer), then, I entreat you, seek speech without delay with our +sublime fellow-Shade--with him who, in his transient existence as a +poet, commented upon the smell of the rose. He will comfort you. You +came to me stripped of all prestige by men's queer smiles and the +disrespectful chatter of every vagrant trader in the Islands. Your name +was the common property of the winds; it, as it were, floated naked over +the waters about the equator. I wrapped round its unhonoured form the +royal mantle of the tropics, and have essayed to put into the hollow +sound the very anguish of paternity--feats which you did not demand from +me--but remember that all the toil and all the pain were mine. In your +earthly life you haunted me, Almayer. Consider that this was taking a +great liberty. Since you were always complaining of being lost to the +world, you should remember that if I had not believed enough in your +existence to let you haunt my rooms in Bessborough Gardens, you would +have been much more lost. You affirm that had I been capable of looking +at you with a more perfect detachment and a greater simplicity, I might +have perceived better the inward marvellousness which, you insist, +attended your career upon that tiny pin-point of light, hardly visible +far, far below us, where both our graves lie. No doubt! But reflect, O +complaining Shade! that this was not so much my fault as your crowning +misfortune. I believed in you in the only way it was possible for me to +believe. It was not worthy of your merits? So be it. But you were always +an unlucky man, Almayer. Nothing was ever quite worthy of you. What made +you so real to me was that you held this lofty theory with some force of +conviction and with an admirable consistency.” + +It is with some such words translated into the proper shadowy +expressions that I am prepared to placate Almayer in the Elysian Abode +of Shades, since it has come to pass that, having parted many years ago, +we are never to meet again in this world. + + +V + +In the career of the most unliterary of writers, in the sense that +literary ambition had never entered the world of his imagination, the +coming into existence of the first book is quite an inexplicable event. +In my own case I cannot trace it back to any mental or psychological +cause which one could point out and hold to. The greatest of my gifts +being a consummate capacity for doing nothing, I cannot even point to +boredom as a rational stimulus for taking up a pen. The pen, at any +rate, was there, and there is nothing wonderful in that. Everybody keeps +a pen (the cold steel of our days) in his rooms, in this enlightened age +of penny stamps and halfpenny post-cards. In fact, this was the epoch +when by means of postcard and pen Mr. Gladstone had made the reputation +of a novel or two. And I, too, had a pen rolling about somewhere--the +seldom-used, the reluctantly taken-up pen of a sailor ashore, the pen +rugged with the dried ink of abandoned attempts, of answers delayed +longer than decency permitted, of letters begun with infinite +reluctance, and put off suddenly till next day--till next week, as like +as not! The neglected, uncared-for pen, flung away at the slightest +provocation, and under the stress of dire necessity hunted for without +enthusiasm, in a perfunctory, grumpy worry, in the “Where the devil _is_ +the beastly thing gone to?” ungracious spirit. Where, indeed! It might +have been reposing behind the sofa for a day or so. My landlady's anemic +daughter (as Ollendorff would have expressed it), though commendably +neat, had a lordly, careless manner of approaching her domestic duties. +Or it might even be resting delicately poised on its point by the side +of the table-leg, and when picked up show a gaping, inefficient beak +which would have discouraged any man of literary instincts. But not me! +“Never mind. This will do.” + +O days without guile! If anybody had told me then that a devoted +household, having a generally exaggerated idea of my talents and +importance, would be put into a state of tremor and flurry by the fuss +I would make because of a suspicion that somebody had touched my +sacrosanct pen of authorship, I would have never deigned as much as the +contemptuous smile of unbelief. There are imaginings too unlikely for +any kind of notice, too wild for indulgence itself, too absurd for a +smile. Perhaps, had that seer of the future been a friend, I should have +been secretly saddened. “Alas!” I would have thought, looking at him +with an unmoved face, “the poor fellow is going mad.” + +I would have been, without doubt, saddened; for in this world where the +journalists read the signs of the sky, and the wind of heaven itself, +blowing where it listeth, does so under the prophetical management of +the meteorological office, but where the secret of human hearts cannot +be captured by prying or praying, it was infinitely more likely that +the sanest of my friends should nurse the germ of incipient madness than +that I should turn into a writer of tales. + +To survey with wonder the changes of one's own self is a fascinating +pursuit for idle hours. The field is so wide, the surprises so varied, +the subject so full of unprofitable but curious hints as to the work of +unseen forces, that one does not weary easily of it. I am not speaking +here of megalomaniacs who rest uneasy under the crown of their unbounded +conceit--who really never rest in this world, and when out of it go +on fretting and fuming on the straitened circumstances of their last +habitation, where all men must lie in obscure equality. Neither am I +thinking of those ambitious minds who, always looking forward to some +aim of aggrandizement, can spare no time for a detached, impersonal +glance upon themselves. + +And that's a pity. They are unlucky. These two kinds, together with +the much larger band of the totally unimaginative, of those unfortunate +beings in whose empty and unseeing gaze (as a great French writer has +put it) “the whole universe vanishes into blank nothingness,” miss, +perhaps, the true task of us men whose day is short on this earth, the +abode of conflicting opinions. The ethical view of the universe involves +us at last in so many cruel and absurd contradictions, where the last +vestiges of faith, hope, charity, and even of reason itself, seem ready +to perish, that I have come to suspect that the aim of creation cannot +be ethical at all. I would fondly believe that its object is purely +spectacular: a spectacle for awe, love, adoration, or hate, if you +like, but in this view--and in this view alone--never for despair! Those +visions, delicious or poignant, are a moral end in themselves. The rest +is our affair--the laughter, the tears, the tenderness, the indignation, +the high tranquillity of a steeled heart, the detached curiosity of +a subtle mind--that's our affair! And the unwearied self-forgetful +attention to every phase of the living universe reflected in our +consciousness may be our appointed task on this earth--a task in which +fate has perhaps engaged nothing of us except our conscience, gifted +with a voice in order to bear true testimony to the visible wonder, the +haunting terror, the infinite passion, and the illimitable serenity; to +the supreme law and the abiding mystery of the sublime spectacle. + +Chi lo sa? It may be true. In this view there is room for every religion +except for the inverted creed of impiety, the mask and cloak of arid +despair; for every joy and every sorrow, for every fair dream, for every +charitable hope. The great aim is to remain true to the emotions called +out of the deep encircled by the firmament of stars, whose infinite +numbers and awful distances may move us to laughter or tears (was it the +Walrus or the Carpenter, in the poem, who “wept to see such quantities +of sand”?), or, again, to a properly steeled heart, may matter nothing +at all. + +The casual quotation, which had suggested itself out of a poem full of +merit, leads me to remark that in the conception of a purely spectacular +universe, where inspiration of every sort has a rational existence, the +artist of every kind finds a natural place; and among them the poet as +the seer par excellence. Even the writer of prose, who in his less noble +and more toilsome task should be a man with the steeled heart, is worthy +of a place, providing he looks on with undimmed eyes and keeps laughter +out of his voice, let who will laugh or cry. Yes! Even he, the prose +artist of fiction, which after all is but truth often dragged out of a +well and clothed in the painted robe of imagined phrases--even he has +his place among kings, demagogues, priests, charlatans, dukes, giraffes, +cabinet ministers, Fabians, bricklayers, apostles, ants, scientists, +Kafirs, soldiers, sailors, elephants, lawyers, dandies, microbes, and +constellations of a universe whose amazing spectacle is a moral end in +itself. + +Here I perceive (without speaking offense) the reader assuming a subtle +expression, as if the cat were out of the bag. I take the novelist's +freedom to observe the reader's mind formulating the exclamation: +“That's it! The fellow talks pro domo.” + +Indeed it was not the intention! When I shouldered the bag I was not +aware of the cat inside. But, after all, why not? The fair courtyards of +the House of Art are thronged by many humble retainers. And there is +no retainer so devoted as he who is allowed to sit on the doorstep. The +fellows who have got inside are apt to think too much of themselves. +This last remark, I beg to state, is not malicious within the definition +of the law of libel. It's fair comment on a matter of public interest. +But never mind. _Pro domo_. So be it. For his house _tant que vous +voudrez_. And yet in truth I was by no means anxious to justify my +existence. The attempt would have been not only needless and absurd, but +almost inconceivable, in a purely spectacular universe, where no such +disagreeable necessity can possibly arise. It is sufficient for me to +say (and I am saying it at some length in these pages): _J'ai vecu_. I +have existed, obscure among the wonders and terrors of my time, as the +Abbe Sieyes, the original utterer of the quoted words, had managed to +exist through the violences, the crimes, and the enthusiasms of the +French Revolution. _J'ai vecu_, as I apprehend most of us manage to +exist, missing all along the varied forms of destruction by a +hair's-breadth, saving my body, that's clear, and perhaps my soul also, +but not without some damage here and there to the fine edge of my +conscience, that heirloom of the ages, of the race, of the group, of the +family, colourable and plastic, fashioned by the words, the looks, the +acts, and even by the silences and abstentions surrounding one's +childhood; tinged in a complete scheme of delicate shades +and crude colours by the inherited traditions, beliefs, or +prejudices--unaccountable, despotic, persuasive, and often, +in its texture, romantic. + +And often romantic! . . . The matter in hand, however, is to keep these +reminiscences from turning into confessions, a form of literary +activity discredited by Jean Jacques Rousseau on account of the extreme +thoroughness he brought to the work of justifying his own existence; +for that such was his purpose is palpably, even grossly, visible to +an unprejudiced eye. But then, you see, the man was not a writer of +fiction. He was an artless moralist, as is clearly demonstrated by his +anniversaries being celebrated with marked emphasis by the heirs of +the French Revolution, which was not a political movement at all, but +a great outburst of morality. He had no imagination, as the most casual +perusal of “Emile” will prove. He was no novelist, whose first virtue is +the exact understanding of the limits traced by the reality of his time +to the play of his invention. Inspiration comes from the earth, which +has a past, a history, a future, not from the cold and immutable heaven. +A writer of imaginative prose (even more than any other sort of artist) +stands confessed in his works. His conscience, his deeper sense of +things, lawful and unlawful, gives him his attitude before the world. +Indeed, everyone who puts pen to paper for the reading of strangers +(unless a moralist, who, generally speaking, has no conscience except +the one he is at pains to produce for the use of others) can speak of +nothing else. It is M. Anatole France, the most eloquent and just of +French prose-writers, who says that we must recognize at last that, +“failing the resolution to hold our peace, we can only talk of +ourselves.” + +This remark, if I remember rightly, was made in the course of a sparring +match with the late Ferdinand Brunetiere over the principles and rules +of literary criticism. As was fitting for a man to whom we owe the +memorable saying, “The good critic is he who relates the adventures of +his soul among masterpieces,” M. Anatole France maintained that there +were no rules and no principles. And that may be very true. Rules, +principles, and standards die and vanish every day. Perhaps they are all +dead and vanished by this time. These, if ever, are the brave, free days +of destroyed landmarks, while the ingenious minds are busy inventing the +forms of the new beacons which, it is consoling to think, will be set up +presently in the old places. But what is interesting to a writer is the +possession of an inward certitude that literary criticism will never +die, for man (so variously defined) is, before everything else, a +critical animal. And as long as distinguished minds are ready to treat +it in the spirit of high adventure literary criticism shall appeal to +us with all the charm and wisdom of a well-told tale of personal +experience. + +For Englishmen especially, of all the races of the earth, a task, any +task, undertaken in an adventurous spirit acquires the merit of romance. +But the critics as a rule exhibit but little of an adventurous spirit. +They take risks, of course--one can hardly live without that. The daily +bread is served out to us (however sparingly) with a pinch of salt. +Otherwise one would get sick of the diet one prays for, and that would +be not only improper, but impious. From impiety of that or any other +kind--save us! An ideal of reserved manner, adhered to from a sense +of proprieties, from shyness, perhaps, or caution, or simply from +weariness, induces, I suspect, some writers of criticism to conceal the +adventurous side of their calling, and then the criticism becomes a mere +“notice,” as it were, the relation of a journey where nothing but the +distances and the geology of a new country should be set down; the +glimpses of strange beasts, the dangers of flood and field, the +hairbreadth escapes, and the sufferings (oh, the sufferings, too! I have +no doubt of the sufferings) of the traveller being carefully kept out; +no shady spot, no fruitful plant being ever mentioned either; so that +the whole performance looks like a mere feat of agility on the part of +a trained pen running in a desert. A cruel spectacle--a most deplorable +adventure! “Life,” in the words of an immortal thinker of, I should +say, bucolic origin, but whose perishable name is lost to the worship of +posterity--“life is not all beer and skittles.” Neither is the writing +of novels. It isn't, really. Je vous donne ma parole d'honneur that +it--is--not. Not _all_. I am thus emphatic because some years ago, I +remember, the daughter of a general. . . . + +Sudden revelations of the profane world must have come now and then +to hermits in their cells, to the cloistered monks of middle ages, to +lonely sages, men of science, reformers; the revelations of the world's +superficial judgment, shocking to the souls concentrated upon their +own bitter labour in the cause of sanctity, or of knowledge, or of +temperance, let us say, or of art, if only the art of cracking jokes +or playing the flute. And thus this general's daughter came to me--or I +should say one of the general's daughters did. There were three of +these bachelor ladies, of nicely graduated ages, who held a neighbouring +farm-house in a united and more or less military occupation. The +eldest warred against the decay of manners in the village children, and +executed frontal attacks upon the village mothers for the conquest of +courtesies. It sounds futile, but it was really a war for an idea. The +second skirmished and scouted all over the country; and it was that one +who pushed a reconnaissance right to my very table--I mean the one who +wore stand-up collars. + +She was really calling upon my wife in the soft spirit of afternoon +friendliness, but with her usual martial determination. She marched into +my room swinging her stick . . . but no--I mustn't exaggerate. It is not +my specialty. I am not a humoristic writer. In all soberness, then, all +I am certain of is that she had a stick to swing. + +No ditch or wall encompassed my abode. The window was open; the door, +too, stood open to that best friend of my work, the warm, still sunshine +of the wide fields. They lay around me infinitely helpful, but, truth to +say, I had not known for weeks whether the sun shone upon the earth and +whether the stars above still moved on their appointed courses. I was +just then giving up some days of my allotted span to the last chapters +of the novel “Nostromo,” a tale of an imaginary (but true) seaboard, +which is still mentioned now and again, and indeed kindly, sometimes in +connection with the word “failure” and sometimes in conjunction with the +word “astonishing.” I have no opinion on this discrepancy. It's the sort +of difference that can never be settled. All I know is that, for twenty +months, neglecting the common joys of life that fall to the lot of the +humblest on this earth, I had, like the prophet of old, “wrestled with +the Lord” for my creation, for the headlands of the coast, for the +darkness of the Placid Gulf, the light on the snows, the clouds in the +sky, and for the breath of life that had to be blown into the shapes +of men and women, of Latin and Saxon, of Jew and Gentile. These are, +perhaps, strong words, but it is difficult to characterize other wise +the intimacy and the strain of a creative effort in which mind and will +and conscience are engaged to the full, hour after hour, day after day, +away from the world, and to the exclusion of all that makes life really +lovable and gentle--something for which a material parallel can only be +found in the everlasting sombre stress of the westward winter passage +round Cape Horn. For that, too, is the wrestling of men with the might +of their Creator, in a great isolation from the world, without the +amenities and consolations of life, a lonely struggle under a sense of +overmatched littleness, for no reward that could be adequate, but for +the mere winning of a longitude. Yet a certain longitude, once won, +cannot be disputed. The sun and the stars and the shape of your earth +are the witnesses of your gain; whereas a handful of pages, no matter +how much you have made them your own, are at best but an obscure and +questionable spoil. Here they are. “Failure”--“Astonishing”: take your +choice; or perhaps both, or neither--a mere rustle and flutter of pieces +of paper settling down in the night, and undistinguishable, like the +snowflakes of a great drift destined to melt away in sunshine. + +“How do you do?” + +It was the greeting of the general's daughter. I had heard nothing--no +rustle, no footsteps. I had felt only a moment before a sort of +premonition of evil; I had the sense of an inauspicious presence--just +that much warning and no more; and then came the sound of the voice and +the jar as of a terrible fall from a great height--a fall, let us say, +from the highest of the clouds floating in gentle procession over the +fields in the faint westerly air of that July afternoon. I picked myself +up quickly, of course; in other words, I jumped up from my chair stunned +and dazed, every nerve quivering with the pain of being uprooted out of +one world and flung down into another--perfectly civil. + +“Oh! How do you do? Won't you sit down?” + +That's what I said. This horrible but, I assure you, perfectly true +reminiscence tells you more than a whole volume of confessions a la Jean +Jacques Rousseau would do. Observe! I didn't howl at her, or start +upsetting furniture, or throw myself on the floor and kick, or allow +myself to hint in any other way at the appalling magnitude of the +disaster. The whole world of Costaguana (the country, you may remember, +of my seaboard tale), men, women, headlands, houses, mountains, town, +campo (there was not a single brick, stone, or grain of sand of its +soil I had not placed in position with my own hands); all the history, +geography, politics, finance; the wealth of Charles Gould's silver-mine, +and the splendour of the magnificent Capataz de Cargadores, whose name, +cried out in the night (Dr. Monygham heard it pass over his head--in +Linda Viola's voice), dominated even after death the dark gulf +containing his conquests of treasure and love--all that had come down +crashing about my ears. + +I felt I could never pick up the pieces--and in that very moment I was +saying, “Won't you sit down?” + +The sea is strong medicine. Behold what the quarter-deck training even +in a merchant ship will do! This episode should give you a new view of +the English and Scots seamen (a much-caricatured folk) who had the last +say in the formation of my character. One is nothing if not modest, +but in this disaster I think I have done some honour to their simple +teaching. “Won't you sit down?” Very fair; very fair, indeed. She sat +down. Her amused glance strayed all over the room. + +There were pages of MS. on the table and under the table, a batch of +typed copy on a chair, single leaves had fluttered away into distant +corners; there were there living pages, pages scored and wounded, dead +pages that would be burned at the end of the day--the litter of a cruel +battle-field, of a long, long, and desperate fray. Long! I suppose +I went to bed sometimes, and got up the same number of times. Yes, I +suppose I slept, and ate the food put before me, and talked connectedly +to my household on suitable occasions. But I had never been aware of +the even flow of daily life, made easy and noiseless for me by a silent, +watchful, tireless affection. Indeed, it seemed to me that I had been +sitting at that table surrounded by the litter of a desperate fray for +days and nights on end. It seemed so, because of the intense weariness +of which that interruption had made me aware--the awful disenchantment +of a mind realizing suddenly the futility of an enormous task, joined +to a bodily fatigue such as no ordinary amount of fairly heavy physical +labour could ever account for. I have carried bags of wheat on my back, +bent almost double under a ship's deck-beams, from six in the morning +till six in the evening (with an hour and a half off for meals), so I +ought to know. + +And I love letters. I am jealous of their honour and concerned for the +dignity and comeliness of their service. I was, most likely, the only +writer that neat lady had ever caught in the exercise of his craft, and +it distressed me not to be able to remember when it was that I dressed +myself last, and how. No doubt that would be all right in essentials. +The fortune of the house included a pair of gray-blue watchful eyes that +would see to that. But I felt, somehow, as grimy as a Costaguana lepero +after a day's fighting in the streets, rumpled all over and dishevelled +down to my very heels. And I am afraid I blinked stupidly. All this was +bad for the honour of letters and the dignity of their service. Seen +indistinctly through the dust of my collapsed universe, the good lady +glanced about the room with a slightly amused serenity. And she was +smiling. What on earth was she smiling at? She remarked casually: + +“I am afraid I interrupted you.” + +“Not at all.” + +She accepted the denial in perfect good faith. And it was strictly true. +Interrupted--indeed! She had robbed me of at least twenty lives, each +infinitely more poignant and real than her own, because informed with +passion, possessed of convictions, involved in great affairs created out +of my own substance for an anxiously meditated end. + +She remained silent for a while, then said, with a last glance all round +at the litter of the fray: + +“And you sit like this here writing your--your . . .” + +“I--what? Oh, yes! I sit here all day.” + +“It must be perfectly delightful.” + +I suppose that, being no longer very young, I might have been on the +verge of having a stroke; but she had left her dog in the porch, and my +boy's dog, patrolling the field in front, had espied him from afar. +He came on straight and swift like a cannon-ball, and the noise of the +fight, which burst suddenly upon our ears, was more than enough to scare +away a fit of apoplexy. We went out hastily and separated the gallant +animals. Afterward I told the lady where she would find my wife--just +round the corner, under the trees. She nodded and went off with her dog, +leaving me appalled before the death and devastation she had lightly +made--and with the awfully instructive sound of the word “delightful” + lingering in my ears. + +Nevertheless, later on, I duly escorted her to the field gate. I wanted +to be civil, of course (what are twenty lives in a mere novel that one +should be rude to a lady on their account?), but mainly, to adopt the +good, sound Ollendorffian style, because I did not want the dog of the +general's daughter to fight again (encore) with the faithful dog of +my infant son (mon petit garcon).--Was I afraid that the dog of the +general's daughter would be able to overcome (_vaincre_) the dog of my +child?--No, I was not afraid. . . . But away with the Ollendorff +method. However appropriate and seemingly unavoidable when I touch upon +anything appertaining to the lady, it is most unsuitable to the origin, +character, and history of the dog; for the dog was the gift to the child +from a man for whom words had anything but an Ollendorffian value, a man +almost childlike in the impulsive movements of his untutored genius, the +most single-minded of verbal impressionists, using his great gifts of +straight feeling and right expression with a fine sincerity and a strong +if, perhaps, not fully conscious conviction. His art did not obtain, +I fear, all the credit its unsophisticated inspiration deserved. I am +alluding to the late Stephen Crane, the author of “The Red Badge +of Courage,” a work of imagination which found its short moment of +celebrity in the last decade of the departed century. Other books +followed. Not many. He had not the time. It was an individual and +complete talent which obtained but a grudging, somewhat supercilious +recognition from the world at large. For himself one hesitates to regret +his early death. Like one of the men in his “Open Boat,” one felt that +he was of those whom fate seldom allows to make a safe landing after +much toil and bitterness at the oar. I confess to an abiding affection +for that energetic, slight, fragile, intensely living and transient +figure. He liked me, even before we met, on the strength of a page or +two of my writing, and after we had met I am glad to think he liked me +still. He used to point out to me with great earnestness, and even with +some severity, that “a boy _ought_ to have a dog.” I suspect that he was +shocked at my neglect of parental duties. + +Ultimately it was he who provided the dog. Shortly afterward, one day, +after playing with the child on the rug for an hour or so with the most +intense absorption, he raised his head and declared firmly, “I shall +teach your boy to ride.” That was not to be. He was not given the time. + +But here is the dog--an old dog now. Broad and low on his bandy paws, +with a black head on a white body and a ridiculous black spot at +the other end of him, he provokes, when he walks abroad, smiles +not altogether unkind. Grotesque and engaging in the whole of his +appearance, his usual attitudes are meek, but his temperament discloses +itself unexpectedly pugnacious in the presence of his kind. As he lies +in the firelight, his head well up, and a fixed, far away gaze directed +at the shadows of the room, he achieves a striking nobility of pose in +the calm consciousness of an unstained life. He has brought up one baby, +and now, after seeing his first charge off to school, he is bringing up +another with the same conscientious devotion, but with a more deliberate +gravity of manner, the sign of greater wisdom and riper experience, +but also of rheumatism, I fear. From the morning bath to the evening +ceremonies of the cot, you attend the little two-legged creature of your +adoption, being yourself treated in the exercise of your duties with +every possible regard, with infinite consideration, by every person in +the house--even as I myself am treated; only you deserve it more. + +The general's daughter would tell you that it must be “perfectly +delightful.” + +Aha! old dog. She never heard you yelp with acute pain (it's that poor +left ear) the while, with incredible self-command, you preserve a rigid +immobility for fear of overturning the little two-legged creature. She +has never seen your resigned smile when the little two-legged creature, +interrogated, sternly, “What are you doing to the good dog?” answers, +with a wide, innocent stare: “Nothing. Only loving him, mamma dear!” + +The general's daughter does not know the secret terms of self-imposed +tasks, good dog, the pain that may lurk in the very rewards of rigid +self-command. But we have lived together many years. We have grown +older, too; and though our work is not quite done yet we may indulge now +and then in a little introspection before the fire--meditate on the art +of bringing up babies and on the perfect delight of writing tales where +so many lives come and go at the cost of one which slips imperceptibly +away. + + +VI + +In the retrospect of a life which had, besides its preliminary stage +of childhood and early youth, two distinct developments, and even two +distinct elements, such as earth and water, for its successive scenes, +a certain amount of naiveness is unavoidable. I am conscious of it in +these pages. This remark is put forward in no apologetic spirit. As +years go by and the number of pages grows steadily, the feeling grows +upon one, too, that one can write only for friends. Then why should one +put them to the necessity of protesting (as a friend would do) that no +apology is necessary, or put, perchance, into their heads the doubt of +one's discretion? So much as to the care due to those friends whom a +word here, a line there, a fortunate page of just feeling in the right +place, some happy simplicity, or even some lucky subtlety, has drawn +from the great multitude of fellow beings even as a fish is drawn from +the depths of the sea. Fishing is notoriously (I am talking now of the +deep sea) a matter of luck. As to one's enemies, they will take care of +themselves. + +There is a gentleman, for instance, who, metaphorically speaking, jumps +upon me with both feet. This image has no grace, but it is exceedingly +apt to the occasion--to the several occasions. I don't know precisely +how long he has been indulging in that intermittent exercise, whose +seasons are ruled by the custom of the publishing trade. Somebody +pointed him out (in printed shape, of course) to my attention some time +ago, and straightway I experienced a sort of reluctant affection for +that robust man. He leaves not a shred of my substance untrodden: for +the writer's substance is his writing; the rest of him is but a vain +shadow, cherished or hated on uncritical grounds. Not a shred! Yet the +sentiment owned to is not a freak of affectation or perversity. It has +a deeper, and, I venture to think, a more estimable origin than the +caprice of emotional lawlessness. It is, indeed, lawful, in so much +that it is given (reluctantly) for a consideration, for several +considerations. There is that robustness, for instance, so often the +sign of good moral balance. That's a consideration. It is not, indeed, +pleasant to be stamped upon, but the very thoroughness of the operation, +implying not only a careful reading, but some real insight into work +whose qualities and defects, whatever they may be, are not so much on +the surface, is something to be thankful for in view of the fact that it +may happen to one's work to be condemned without being read at all. This +is the most fatuous adventure that can well happen to a writer venturing +his soul among criticisms. It can do one no harm, of course, but it +is disagreeable. It is disagreeable in the same way as discovering +a three-card-trick man among a decent lot of folk in a third-class +compartment. The open impudence of the whole transaction, appealing +insidiously to the folly and credulity of mankind, the brazen, +shameless patter, proclaiming the fraud openly while insisting on the +fairness of the game, give one a feeling of sickening disgust. The +honest violence of a plain man playing a fair game fairly--even if he +means to knock you over--may appear shocking, but it remains within the +pale of decency. Damaging as it may be, it is in no sense offensive. One +may well feel some regard for honesty, even if practised upon one's own +vile body. But it is very obvious that an enemy of that sort will not be +stayed by explanations or placated by apologies. Were I to advance the +plea of youth in excuse of the naiveness to be found in these pages, he +would be likely to say “Bosh!” in a column and a half of fierce print. +Yet a writer is no older than his first published book, and, not +withstanding the vain appearances of decay which attend us in this +transitory life, I stand here with the wreath of only fifteen short +summers on my brow. + +With the remark, then, that at such tender age some naiveness of feeling +and expression is excusable, I proceed to admit that, upon the whole, +my previous state of existence was not a good equipment for a literary +life. Perhaps I should not have used the word literary. That word +presupposes an intimacy of acquaintance with letters, a turn of mind, +and a manner of feeling to which I dare lay no claim. I only love +letters; but the love of letters does not make a literary man, any more +than the love of the sea makes a seaman. And it is very possible, too, +that I love the letters in the same way a literary man may love the +sea he looks at from the shore--a scene of great endeavour and of great +achievements changing the face of the world, the great open way to all +sorts of undiscovered countries. No, perhaps I had better say that the +life at sea--and I don't mean a mere taste of it, but a good broad span +of years, something that really counts as real service--is not, upon the +whole, a good equipment for a writing life. God forbid, though, that I +should be thought of as denying my masters of the quarter-deck. I am not +capable of that sort of apostasy. I have confessed my attitude of piety +toward their shades in three or four tales, and if any man on earth more +than another needs to be true to himself as he hopes to be saved, it is +certainly the writer of fiction. + +What I meant to say, simply, is that the quarter-deck training does not +prepare one sufficiently for the reception of literary criticism. Only +that, and no more. But this defect is not without gravity. If it be +permissible to twist, invert, adapt (and spoil) Mr. Anatole France's +definition of a good critic, then let us say that the good author is he +who contemplates without marked joy or excessive sorrow the adventures +of his soul among criticisms. Far be from me the intention to mislead an +attentive public into the belief that there is no criticism at sea. That +would be dishonest, and even impolite. Everything can be found at +sea, according to the spirit of your quest--strife, peace, romance, +naturalism of the most pronounced kind, ideals, boredom, disgust, +inspiration--and every conceivable opportunity, including the +opportunity to make a fool of yourself, exactly as in the pursuit of +literature. But the quarter-deck criticism is somewhat different from +literary criticism. This much they have in common, that before the one +and the other the answering back, as a general rule, does not pay. + +Yes, you find criticism at sea, and even appreciation--I tell you +everything is to be found on salt water--criticism generally impromptu, +and always _viva voce_, which is the outward, obvious difference from the +literary operation of that kind, with consequent freshness and vigour +which may be lacking in the printed word. With appreciation, which comes +at the end, when the critic and the criticised are about to part, it +is otherwise. The sea appreciation of one's humble talents has the +permanency of the written word, seldom the charm of variety, is formal +in its phrasing. There the literary master has the superiority, though +he, too, can in effect but say--and often says it in the very phrase--“I +can highly recommend.” Only usually he uses the word “We,” there being +some occult virtue in the first person plural which makes it specially +fit for critical and royal declarations. I have a small handful of these +sea appreciations, signed by various masters, yellowing slowly in my +writing-table's left hand drawer, rustling under my reverent touch, like +a handful of dry leaves plucked for a tender memento from the tree of +knowledge. Strange! It seems that it is for these few bits of paper, +headed by the names of a few Scots and English shipmasters, that I have +faced the astonished indignations, the mockeries, and the reproaches of +a sort hard to bear for a boy of fifteen; that I have been charged with +the want of patriotism, the want of sense, and the want of heart, too; +that I went through agonies of self-conflict and shed secret tears not +a few, and had the beauties of the Furca Pass spoiled for me, and have +been called an “incorrigible Don Quixote,” in allusion to the book-born +madness of the knight. For that spoil! They rustle, those bits of +paper--some dozen of them in all. In that faint, ghostly sound there +live the memories of twenty years, the voices of rough men now no +more, the strong voice of the everlasting winds, and the whisper of a +mysterious spell, the murmur of the great sea, which must have somehow +reached my inland cradle and entered my unconscious ear, like that +formula of Mohammedan faith the Mussulman father whispers into the ear +of his new-born infant, making him one of the faithful almost with his +first breath. I do not know whether I have been a good seaman, but I +know I have been a very faithful one. And, after all, there is that +handful of “characters” from various ships to prove that all these years +have not been altogether a dream. There they are, brief, and monotonous +in tone, but as suggestive bits of writing to me as any inspired page to +be found in literature. But then, you see, I have been called romantic. +Well, that can't be helped. But stay. I seem to remember that I have +been called a realist, also. And as that charge, too, can be made out, +let us try to live up to it, at whatever cost, for a change. With this +end in view, I will confide to you coyly, and only because there is +no one about to see my blushes by the light of the midnight lamp, that +these suggestive bits of quarter-deck appreciation, one and all, contain +the words “strictly sober.” + +Did I overhear a civil murmur, “That's very gratifying, to be sure?” + Well, yes, it is gratifying--thank you. It is at least as gratifying to +be certified sober as to be certified romantic, though such certificates +would not qualify one for the secretaryship of a temperance association +or for the post of official troubadour to some lordly democratic +institution such as the London County Council, for instance. The above +prosaic reflection is put down here only in order to prove the general +sobriety of my judgment in mundane affairs. I make a point of it because +a couple of years ago, a certain short story of mine being published in +a French translation, a Parisian critic--I am almost certain it was M. +Gustave Kahn in the “Gil Blas”--giving me a short notice, summed up +his rapid impression of the writer's quality in the words _un puissant +reveur_. So be it! Who could cavil at the words of a friendly reader? Yet +perhaps not such an unconditional dreamer as all that. I will make bold +to say that neither at sea nor ashore have I ever lost the sense of +responsibility. There is more than one sort of intoxication. 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. It is but a maudlin and indecent verity that +comes out through the strength of wine. I have tried to be a sober +worker all my life--all my two lives. I did so from taste, no doubt, +having an instinctive horror of losing my sense of full self-possession, +but also from artistic conviction. Yet there are so many pitfalls on +each side of the true path that, having gone some way, and feeling a +little battered and weary, as a middle-aged traveller will from the +mere daily difficulties of the march, I ask myself whether I have kept +always, always faithful to that sobriety wherein there is power and +truth and peace. + +As to my sea sobriety, that is quite properly certified under the +sign-manual of several trustworthy shipmasters of some standing in their +time. I seem to hear your polite murmur that “Surely this might have +been taken for granted.” Well, no. It might not have been. That August +academical body, the Marine Department of the Board of Trade, takes +nothing for granted in the granting of its learned degrees. By its +regulations issued under the first Merchant Shipping Act, the very word +_sober_ must be written, or a whole sackful, a ton, a mountain of the +most enthusiastic appreciation will avail you nothing. The door of the +examination rooms shall remain closed to your tears and entreaties. +The most fanatical advocate of temperance could not be more pitilessly +fierce in his rectitude than the Marine Department of the Board of +Trade. As I have been face to face at various times with all the +examiners of the Port of London in my generation, there can be no doubt +as to the force and the continuity of my abstemiousness. Three of them +were examiners in seamanship, and it was my fate to be delivered into +the hands of each of them at proper intervals of sea service. The first +of all, tall, spare, with a perfectly white head and mustache, a quiet, +kindly manner, and an air of benign intelligence, must, I am forced +to conclude, have been unfavourably impressed by something in my +appearance. His old, thin hands loosely clasped resting on his crossed +legs, he began by an elementary question, in a mild voice, and went +on, went on. . . . It lasted for hours, for hours. Had I been a strange +microbe with potentialities of deadly mischief to the Merchant Service I +could not have been submitted to a more microscopic examination. Greatly +reassured by his apparent benevolence, I had been at first very alert in +my answers. But at length the feeling of my brain getting addled crept +upon me. And still the passionless process went on, with a sense of +untold ages having been spent already on mere preliminaries. Then I got +frightened. I was not frightened of being plucked; that eventuality did +not even present itself to my mind. It was something much more serious +and weird. “This ancient person,” I said to myself, terrified, “is +so near his grave that he must have lost all notion of time. He is +considering this examination in terms of eternity. It is all very well +for him. His race is run. But I may find myself coming out of this +room into the world of men a stranger, friendless, forgotten by my very +landlady, even were I able after this endless experience to remember +the way to my hired home.” This statement is not so much of a verbal +exaggeration as may be supposed. Some very queer thoughts passed through +my head while I was considering my answers; thoughts which had nothing +to do with seamanship, nor yet with anything reasonable known to this +earth. I verily believe that at times I was light-headed in a sort of +languid way. At last there fell a silence, and that, too, seemed to +last for ages, while, bending over his desk, the examiner wrote out my +pass-slip slowly with a noiseless pen. He extended the scrap of paper to +me without a word, inclined his white head gravely to my parting +bow. . . . + +When I got out of the room I felt limply flat, like a squeezed lemon, +and the doorkeeper in his glass cage, where I stopped to get my hat and +tip him a shilling, said: + +“Well! I thought you were never coming out.” + +“How long have I been in there?” I asked, faintly. + +He pulled out his watch. + +“He kept you, sir, just under three hours. I don't think this ever +happened with any of the gentlemen before.” + +It was only when I got out of the building that I began to walk on +air. And the human animal being averse from change and timid before the +unknown, I said to myself that I really would not mind being examined +by the same man on a future occasion. But when the time of ordeal +came round again the doorkeeper let me into another room, with the +now familiar paraphernalia of models of ships and tackle, a board for +signals on the wall, a big, long table covered with official forms +and having an unrigged mast fixed to the edge. The solitary tenant +was unknown to me by sight, though not by reputation, which was simply +execrable. Short and sturdy, as far as I could judge, clad in an old +brown morning-suit, he sat leaning on his elbow, his hand shading his +eyes, and half averted from the chair I was to occupy on the other side +of the table. He was motionless, mysterious, remote, enigmatical, with +something mournful, too, in the pose, like that statue of Giugliano (I +think) de Medici shading his face on the tomb by Michael Angelo, though, +of course, he was far, far from being beautiful. He began by trying to +make me talk nonsense. But I had been warned of that fiendish trait, and +contradicted him with great assurance. After a while he left off. So +far good. But his immobility, the thick elbow on the table, the +abrupt, unhappy voice, the shaded and averted face grew more and more +impressive. He kept inscrutably silent for a moment, and then, placing +me in a ship of a certain size, at sea, under conditions of weather, +season, locality, etc.--all very clear and precise--ordered me to +execute a certain manoeuvre. Before I was half through with it he did +some material damage to the ship. Directly I had grappled with the +difficulty he caused another to present itself, and when that, too, +was met he stuck another ship before me, creating a very dangerous +situation. I felt slightly outraged by this ingenuity in piling trouble +upon a man. + +“I wouldn't have got into that mess,” I suggested, mildly. “I could have +seen that ship before.” + +He never stirred the least bit. + +“No, you couldn't. The weather's thick.” + +“Oh! I didn't know,” I apologized blankly. + +I suppose that after all I managed to stave off the smash with +sufficient approach to verisimilitude, and the ghastly business went on. +You must understand that the scheme of the test he was applying to me +was, I gathered, a homeward passage--the sort of passage I would not +wish to my bitterest enemy. That imaginary ship seemed to labour under +a most comprehensive curse. It's no use enlarging on these never-ending +misfortunes; suffice it to say that long before the end I would have +welcomed with gratitude an opportunity to exchange into the Flying +Dutchman. Finally he shoved me into the North Sea (I suppose) and +provided me with a lee shore with outlying sand-banks--the Dutch coast, +presumably. Distance, eight miles. The evidence of such implacable +animosity deprived me of speech for quite half a minute. + +“Well,” he said--for our pace had been very smart, indeed, till then. + +“I will have to think a little, sir.” + +“Doesn't look as if there were much time to think,” he muttered, +sardonically, from under his hand. + +“No, sir,” I said, with some warmth. “Not on board a ship, I could see. +But so many accidents have happened that I really can't remember what +there's left for me to work with.” + +Still half averted, and with his eyes concealed, he made unexpectedly a +grunting remark. + +“You've done very well.” + +“Have I the two anchors at the bow, sir?” I asked. + +“Yes.” + +I prepared myself then, as a last hope for the ship, to let them both +go in the most effectual manner, when his infernal system of testing +resourcefulness came into play again. + +“But there's only one cable. You've lost the other.” + +It was exasperating. + +“Then I would back them, if I could, and tail the heaviest hawser on +board on the end of the chain before letting go, and if she parted from +that, which is quite likely, I would just do nothing. She would have to +go.” + +“Nothing more to do, eh?” + +“No, sir. I could do no more.” + +He gave a bitter half-laugh. + +“You could always say your prayers.” + +He got up, stretched himself, and yawned slightly. It was a sallow, +strong, unamiable face. He put me, in a surly, bored fashion, through +the usual questions as to lights and signals, and I escaped from the +room thank fully--passed! Forty minutes! And again I walked on air +along Tower Hill, where so many good men had lost their heads because, I +suppose, they were not resourceful enough to save them. And in my heart +of hearts I had no objection to meeting that examiner once more when the +third and last ordeal became due in another year or so. I even hoped +I should. I knew the worst of him now, and forty minutes is not an +unreasonable time. Yes, I distinctly hoped. . . . + +But not a bit of it. When I presented my self to be examined for master +the examiner who received me was short, plump, with a round, soft face +in gray, fluffy whiskers, and fresh, loquacious lips. + +He commenced operations with an easy going “Let's see. H'm. Suppose you +tell me all you know of charter-parties.” He kept it up in that style +all through, wandering off in the shape of comment into bits out of his +own life, then pulling himself up short and returning to the business in +hand. It was very interesting. “What's your idea of a jury-rudder now?” + he queried, suddenly, at the end of an instructive anecdote bearing upon +a point of stowage. + +I warned him that I had no experience of a lost rudder at sea, and gave +him two classical examples of makeshifts out of a text-book. In exchange +he described to me a jury-rudder he had invented himself years before, +when in command of a three-thousand-ton steamer. It was, I declare, the +cleverest contrivance imaginable. “May be of use to you some day,” + he concluded. “You will go into steam presently. Everybody goes into +steam.” + +There he was wrong. I never went into steam--not really. If I only live +long enough I shall become a bizarre relic of a dead barbarism, a sort +of monstrous antiquity, the only seaman of the dark ages who had never +gone into steam--not really. + +Before the examination was over he imparted to me a few interesting +details of the transport service in the time of the Crimean War. + +“The use of wire rigging became general about that time, too,” he +observed. “I was a very young master then. That was before you were +born.” + +“Yes, sir. I am of the year of 1857.” + +“The Mutiny year,” he commented, as if to himself, adding in a louder +tone that his ship happened then to be in the Gulf of Bengal, employed +under a government charter. + +Clearly the transport service had been the making of this examiner, who +so unexpectedly had given me an insight into his existence, awakening in +me the sense of the continuity of that sea life into which I had stepped +from outside; giving a touch of human intimacy to the machinery of +official relations. I felt adopted. His experience was for me, too, as +though he had been an ancestor. + +Writing my long name (it has twelve letters) with laborious care on the +slip of blue paper, he remarked: + +“You are of Polish extraction.” + +“Born there, sir.” + +He laid down the pen and leaned back to look at me as it were for the +first time. + +“Not many of your nationality in our service, I should think. I never +remember meeting one either before or after I left the sea. Don't +remember ever hearing of one. An inland people, aren't you?” + +I said yes--very much so. We were remote from the sea not only by +situation, but also from a complete absence of indirect association, not +being a commercial nation at all, but purely agricultural. He made then +the quaint reflection that it was “a long way for me to come out to +begin a sea life”; as if sea life were not precisely a life in which one +goes a long way from home. + +I told him, smiling, that no doubt I could have found a ship much nearer +my native place, but I had thought to myself that if I was to be a +seaman, then I would be a British seaman and no other. It was a matter +of deliberate choice. + +He nodded slightly at that; and, as he kept on looking at me +interrogatively, I enlarged a little, confessing that I had spent a +little time on the way in the Mediterranean and in the West Indies. I +did not want to present myself to the British Merchant Service in an +altogether green state. It was no use telling him that my mysterious +vocation was so strong that my very wild oats had to be sown at sea. +It was the exact truth, but he would not have understood the somewhat +exceptional psychology of my sea-going, I fear. + +“I suppose you've never come across one of your countrymen at sea. Have +you, now?” + +I admitted I never had. The examiner had given himself up to the spirit +of gossiping idleness. For myself, I was in no haste to leave that room. +Not in the least. The era of examinations was over. I would never +again see that friendly man who was a professional ancestor, a sort of +grandfather in the craft. Moreover, I had to wait till he dismissed me, +and of that there was no sign. As he remained silent, looking at me, I +added: + +“But I have heard of one, some years ago. He seems to have been a boy +serving his time on board a Liverpool ship, if I am not mistaken.” + +“What was his name?” + +I told him. + +“How did you say that?” he asked, puckering up his eyes at the uncouth +sound. + +I repeated the name very distinctly. + +“How do you spell it?” + +I told him. He moved his head at the impracticable nature of that name, +and observed: + +“It's quite as long as your own--isn't it?” + +There was no hurry. I had passed for master, and I had all the rest of +my life before me to make the best of it. That seemed a long time. I +went leisurely through a small mental calculation, and said: + +“Not quite. Shorter by two letters, sir.” + +“Is it?” The examiner pushed the signed blue slip across the table to +me, and rose from his chair. Somehow this seemed a very abrupt ending of +our relations, and I felt almost sorry to part from that excellent man, +who was master of a ship before the whisper of the sea had reached my +cradle. He offered me his hand and wished me well. He even made a few +steps toward the door with me, and ended with good-natured advice. + +“I don't know what may be your plans, but you ought to go into steam. +When a man has got his master's certificate it's the proper time. If I +were you I would go into steam.” + +I thanked him, and shut the door behind me definitely on the era of +examinations. But that time I did not walk on air, as on the first two +occasions. I walked across the hill of many beheadings with measured +steps. It was a fact, I said to myself, that I was now a British master +mariner beyond a doubt. It was not that I had an exaggerated sense of +that very modest achievement, with which, however, luck, opportunity, +or any extraneous influence could have had nothing to do. That +fact, satisfactory and obscure in itself, had for me a certain ideal +significance. It was an answer to certain outspoken scepticism and even +to some not very kind aspersions. I had vindicated myself from what had +been cried upon as a stupid obstinacy or a fantastic caprice. I don't +mean to say that a whole country had been convulsed by my desire to go +to sea. But for a boy between fifteen and sixteen, sensitive enough, +in all conscience, the commotion of his little world had seemed a very +considerable thing indeed. So considerable that, absurdly enough, the +echoes of it linger to this day. I catch myself in hours of solitude and +retrospect meeting arguments and charges made thirty-five years ago by +voices now forever still; finding things to say that an assailed boy +could not have found, simply because of the mysteriousness of his +impulses to himself. I understood no more than the people who called +upon me to explain myself. There was no precedent. I verily believe mine +was the only case of a boy of my nationality and antecedents taking +a, so to speak, standing jump out of his racial surroundings and +associations. For you must understand that there was no idea of any sort +of “career” in my call. Of Russia or Germany there could be no question. +The nationality, the antecedents, made it impossible. The feeling +against the Austrian service was not so strong, and I dare say there +would have been no difficulty in finding my way into the Naval School at +Pola. It would have meant six months' extra grinding at German, perhaps; +but I was not past the age of admission, and in other respects I was +well qualified. This expedient to palliate my folly was thought of--but +not by me. I must admit that in that respect my negative was accepted +at once. That order of feeling was comprehensible enough to the most +inimical of my critics. I was not called upon to offer explanations; +but the truth is that what I had in view was not a naval career, but +the sea. There seemed no way open to it but through France. I had the +language, at any rate, and of all the countries in Europe it is with +France that Poland has most connection. There were some facilities for +having me a little looked after, at first. Letters were being written, +answers were being received, arrangements were being made for my +departure for Marseilles, where an excellent fellow called Solary, +got at in a roundabout fashion through various French channels, had +promised good-naturedly to put le jeune homme in the way of getting a +decent ship for his first start if he really wanted a taste of ce metier +de chien. + +I watched all these preparations gratefully, and kept my own counsel. +But what I told the last of my examiners was perfectly true. Already +the determined resolve that “if a seaman, then an English seaman” was +formulated in my head, though, of course, in the Polish language. I did +not know six words of English, and I was astute enough to understand +that it was much better to say nothing of my purpose. As it was I was +already looked upon as partly insane, at least by the more distant +acquaintances. The principal thing was to get away. I put my trust in +the good-natured Solary's very civil letter to my uncle, though I was +shocked a little by the phrase about the metier de chien. + +This Solary (Baptistin), when I beheld him in the flesh, turned out a +quite young man, very good-looking, with a fine black, short beard, a +fresh complexion, and soft, merry black eyes. He was as jovial and good +natured as any boy could desire. I was still asleep in my room in a +modest hotel near the quays of the old port, after the fatigues of +the journey via Vienna, Zurich, Lyons, when he burst in, flinging the +shutters open to the sun of Provence and chiding me boisterously for +lying abed. How pleasantly he startled me by his noisy objurgations to +be up and off instantly for a “three years' campaign in the South Seas!” + O magic words! “_Une campagne de trois ans dans les mers du sud_”--that +is the French for a three years' deep-water voyage. + +He gave me a delightful waking, and his friendliness was unwearied; +but I fear he did not enter upon the quest for a ship for me in a very +solemn spirit. He had been at sea himself, but had left off at the age +of twenty-five, finding he could earn his living on shore in a much more +agreeable manner. He was related to an incredible number of Marseilles +well-to-do families of a certain class. One of his uncles was a +ship-broker of good standing, with a large connection among English +ships; other relatives of his dealt in ships' stores, owned sail-lofts, +sold chains and anchors, were master-stevedores, calkers, shipwrights. + +His grandfather (I think) was a dignitary of a kind, the Syndic of the +Pilots. I made acquaintances among these people, but mainly among the +pilots. The very first whole day I ever spent on salt water was by +invitation, in a big half-decked pilot-boat, cruising under close reefs +on the lookout, in misty, blowing weather, for the sails of ships and +the smoke of steamers rising out there, beyond the slim and tall Planier +lighthouse cutting the line of the wind-swept horizon with a white +perpendicular stroke. They were hospitable souls, these sturdy Provencal +seamen. Under the general designation of le petit ami de Baptistin I +was made the guest of the corporation of pilots, and had the freedom of +their boats night or day. And many a day and a night, too, did I spend +cruising with these rough, kindly men, under whose auspices my intimacy +with the sea began. Many a time “the little friend of Baptistin” had the +hooded cloak of the Mediterranean sailor thrown over him by their honest +hands while dodging at night under the lee of Chateau daft on the watch +for the lights of ships. Their sea tanned faces, whiskered or shaved, +lean or full, with the intent, wrinkled sea eyes of the pilot breed, and +here and there a thin gold hoop at the lobe of a hairy ear, bent over my +sea infancy. The first operation of seamanship I had an opportunity of +observing was the boarding of ships at sea, at all times, in all states +of the weather. They gave it to me to the full. And I have been invited +to sit in more than one tall, dark house of the old town at their +hospitable board, had the bouillabaisse ladled out into a thick plate +by their high-voiced, broad-browed wives, talked to their +daughters--thick-set girls, with pure profiles, glorious masses of black +hair arranged with complicated art, dark eyes, and dazzlingly white +teeth. + +I had also other acquaintances of quite a different sort. One of them, +Madame Delestang, an imperious, handsome lady in a statuesque style, +would carry me off now and then on the front seat of her carriage to the +Prado, at the hour of fashionable airing. She belonged to one of the old +aristocratic families in the south. In her haughty weariness she used to +make me think of Lady Dedlock in Dickens's “Bleak House,” a work of the +master for which I have such an admiration, or rather such an intense +and unreasoning affection, dating from the days of my childhood, that +its very weaknesses are more precious to me than the strength of other +men's work. I have read it innumerable times, both in Polish and +in English; I have read it only the other day, and, by a not very +surprising inversion, the Lady Dedlock of the book reminded me strongly +of the “belle Madame Delestang.” + +Her husband (as I sat facing them both), with his thin, bony nose and a +perfectly bloodless, narrow physiognomy clamped together, as it were, +by short, formal side whiskers, had nothing of Sir Leicester Dedlock's +“grand air” and courtly solemnity. He belonged to the haute bourgeoisie +only, and was a banker, with whom a modest credit had been opened for my +needs. He was such an ardent--no, such a frozen-up, mummified Royalist +that he used in current conversation turns of speech contemporary, +I should say, with the good Henri Quatre; and when talking of money +matters, reckoned not in francs, like the common, godless herd of +post-Revolutionary Frenchmen, but in obsolete and forgotten ecus--ecus +of all money units in the world!--as though Louis Quatorze were still +promenading in royal splendour the gardens of Versailles, and Monsieur +de Colbert busy with the direction of maritime affairs. You must admit +that in a banker of the nineteenth century it was a quaint idiosyncrasy. +Luckily, in the counting-house (it occupied part of the ground floor of +the Delestang town residence, in a silent, shady street) the accounts +were kept in modern money, so that I never had any difficulty in +making my wants known to the grave, low-voiced, decorous, Legitimist +(I suppose) clerks, sitting in the perpetual gloom of heavily barred +windows behind the sombre, ancient counters, beneath lofty ceilings with +heavily molded cornices. I always felt, on going out, as though I +had been in the temple of some very dignified but completely temporal +religion. And it was generally on these occasions that under the great +carriage gateway Lady Ded--I mean Madame Delestang--catching sight of my +raised hat, would beckon me with an amiable imperiousness to the side of +the carriage, and suggest with an air of amused nonchalance, “_Venez donc +faire un tour avec nous_,” to which the husband would add an encouraging +“_C'est ca. Allons, montez, jeune homme_.” He questioned me some times, +significantly but with perfect tact and delicacy, as to the way I +employed my time, and never failed to express the hope that I wrote +regularly to my “honoured uncle.” I made no secret of the way I employed +my time, and I rather fancy that my artless tales of the pilots and so +on entertained Madame Delestang so far as that ineffable woman could +be entertained by the prattle of a youngster very full of his new +experience among strange men and strange sensations. She expressed no +opinions, and talked to me very little; yet her portrait hangs in the +gallery of my intimate memories, fixed there by a short and fleeting +episode. One day, after putting me down at the corner of a street, +she offered me her hand, and detained me, by a slight pressure, for a +moment. While the husband sat motionless and looking straight before +him, she leaned forward in the carriage to say, with just a shade of +warning in her leisurely tone: “_Il faut, cependant, faire attention a +ne pas gater sa vie_.” I had never seen her face so close to mine before. +She made my heart beat and caused me to remain thoughtful for a whole +evening. Certainly one must, after all, take care not to spoil one's +life. But she did not know--nobody could know--how impossible that +danger seemed to me. + + +VII + +Can the transports of first love be calmed, checked, turned to a cold +suspicion of the future by a grave quotation from a work on political +economy? I ask--is it conceivable? Is it possible? Would it be right? +With my feet on the very shores of the sea and about to embrace my +blue-eyed dream, what could a good-natured warning as to spoiling one's +life mean to my youthful passion? It was the most unexpected and the +last, too, of the many warnings I had received. It sounded to me very +bizarre--and, uttered as it was in the very presence of my enchantress, +like the voice of folly, the voice of ignorance. But I was not so +callous or so stupid as not to recognize there also the voice of +kindness. And then the vagueness of the warning--because what can be the +meaning of the phrase: to spoil one's life?--arrested one's attention +by its air of wise profundity. At any rate, as I have said before, +the words of la belle Madame Delestang made me thoughtful for a whole +evening. I tried to understand and tried in vain, not having any notion +of life as an enterprise that could be mismanaged. But I left off being +thoughtful shortly before midnight, at which hour, haunted by no ghosts +of the past and by no visions of the future, I walked down the quay of +the Vieux Port to join the pilot-boat of my friends. I knew where she +would be waiting for her crew, in the little bit of a canal behind the +fort at the entrance of the harbour. The deserted quays looked very +white and dry in the moonlight, and as if frostbound in the sharp air +of that December night. A prowler or two slunk by noiselessly; a +custom-house guard, soldier-like, a sword by his side, paced close under +the bowsprits of the long row of ships moored bows on opposite the long, +slightly curved, continuous flat wall of the tall houses that seemed +to be one immense abandoned building with innumerable windows shuttered +closely. Only here and there a small, dingy cafe for sailors cast a +yellow gleam on the bluish sheen of the flagstones. Passing by, one +heard a deep murmur of voices inside--nothing more. How quiet everything +was at the end of the quays on the last night on which I went out for +a service cruise as a guest of the Marseilles pilots! Not a footstep, +except my own, not a sigh, not a whispering echo of the usual revelry +going on in the narrow, unspeakable lanes of the Old Town reached my +ear--and suddenly, with a terrific jingling rattle of iron and glass, +the omnibus of the Jolliette on its last journey swung around the corner +of the dead wall which faces across the paved road the characteristic +angular mass of the Fort St. Jean. Three horses trotted abreast, with +the clatter of hoofs on the granite setts, and the yellow, uproarious +machine jolted violently behind them, fantastic, lighted up, perfectly +empty, and with the driver apparently asleep on his swaying perch above +that amazing racket. I flattened myself against the wall and gasped. It +was a stunning experience. Then after staggering on a few paces in +the shadow of the fort, casting a darkness more intense than that of a +clouded night upon the canal, I saw the tiny light of a lantern standing +on the quay, and became aware of muffled figures making toward it from +various directions. Pilots of the Third Company hastening to embark. +Too sleepy to be talkative, they step on board in silence. But a few low +grunts and an enormous yawn are heard. Somebody even ejaculates: “_Ah! +Coquin de sort!_” and sighs wearily at his hard fate. + +The patron of the Third Company (there were five companies of pilots +at that time, I believe) is the brother-in-law of my friend Solary +(Baptistin), a broad-shouldered, deep chested man of forty, with a keen, +frank glance which always seeks your eyes. + +He greets me by a low, hearty “_He, l'ami. Comment va_?” With his clipped +mustache and massive open face, energetic and at the same time placid +in expression, he is a fine specimen of the southerner of the calm +type. For there is such a type in which the volatile southern passion +is transmuted into solid force. He is fair, but no one could mistake him +for a man of the north even by the dim gleam of the lantern standing on +the quay. He is worth a dozen of your ordinary Normans or Bretons, but +then, in the whole immense sweep of the Mediterranean shores, you could +not find half a dozen men of his stamp. + +Standing by the tiller, he pulls out his watch from under a thick jacket +and bends his head over it in the light cast into the boat. Time's up. +His pleasant voice commands, in a quiet undertone, “_Larguez_.” A suddenly +projected arm snatches the lantern off the quay--and, warped along by +a line at first, then with the regular tug of four heavy sweeps in +the bow, the big half-decked boat full of men glides out of the black, +breathless shadow of the fort. The open water of the avant-port glitters +under the moon as if sown over with millions of sequins, and the long +white break water shines like a thick bar of solid silver. With a quick +rattle of blocks and one single silky swish, the sail is filled by a +little breeze keen enough to have come straight down from the frozen +moon, and the boat, after the clatter of the hauled-in sweeps, seems +to stand at rest, surrounded by a mysterious whispering so faint and +unearthly that it may be the rustling of the brilliant, overpowering +moon rays breaking like a rain-shower upon the hard, smooth, shadowless +sea. + +I may well remember that last night spent with the pilots of the Third +Company. I have known the spell of moonlight since, on various seas +and coasts--coasts of forests, of rocks, of sand dunes--but no magic so +perfect in its revelation of unsuspected character, as though one were +allowed to look upon the mystic nature of material things. For hours I +suppose no word was spoken in that boat. The pilots, seated in two rows +facing each other, dozed, with their arms folded and their chins resting +upon their breasts. They displayed a great variety of caps: cloth, wool, +leather, peaks, ear-flaps, tassels, with a picturesque round beret or +two pulled down over the brows; and one grandfather, with a shaved, bony +face and a great beak of a nose, had a cloak with a hood which made him +look in our midst like a cowled monk being carried off goodness knows +where by that silent company of seamen--quiet enough to be dead. + +My fingers itched for the tiller, and in due course my friend, the +patron, surrendered it to me in the same spirit in which the family +coachman lets a boy hold the reins on an easy bit of road. + +There was a great solitude around us; the islets ahead, Monte Cristo and +the Chateau daft in full light, seemed to float toward us--so steady, so +imperceptible was the progress of our boat. “Keep her in the furrow +of the moon,” the patron directed me, in a quiet murmur, sitting down +ponderously in the stern-sheets and reaching for his pipe. + +The pilot station in weather like this was only a mile or two to the +westward of the islets; and presently, as we approached the spot, the +boat we were going to relieve swam into our view suddenly, on her way +home, cutting black and sinister into the wake of the moon under a +sable wing, while to them our sail must have been a vision of white +and dazzling radiance. Without altering the course a hair's breadth we +slipped by each other within an oar's length. A drawling, sardonic hail +came out of her. Instantly, as if by magic, our dozing pilots got on +their feet in a body. An incredible babel of bantering shouts burst out, +a jocular, passionate, voluble chatter, which lasted till the boats were +stern to stern, theirs all bright now, and, with a shining sail to our +eyes, we turned all black to their vision, and drew away from them under +a sable wing. That extraordinary uproar died away almost as suddenly +as it had begun; first one had enough of it and sat down, then another, +then three or four together; and when all had left off with mutters +and growling half-laughs the sound of hearty chuckling became audible, +persistent, unnoticed. The cowled grandfather was very much entertained +somewhere within his hood. + +He had not joined in the shouting of jokes, neither had he moved the +least bit. He had remained quietly in his place against the foot of the +mast. I had been given to understand long before that he had the rating +of a second-class able seaman (matelot leger) in the fleet which sailed +from Toulon for the conquest of Algeria in the year of grace 1830. And, +indeed, I had seen and examined one of the buttons of his old brown, +patched coat, the only brass button of the miscellaneous lot, flat and +thin, with the words Equipages de ligne engraved on it. That sort of +button, I believe, went out with the last of the French Bourbons. + +“I preserved it from the time of my navy service,” he explained, nodding +rapidly his frail, vulture-like head. It was not very likely that he had +picked up that relic in the street. He looked certainly old enough to +have fought at Trafalgar--or, at any rate, to have played his little +part there as a powder monkey. Shortly after we had been introduced he +had informed me in a Franco-Provencal jargon, mumbling tremulously with +his toothless jaws, that when he was a “shaver no higher than that” he +had seen the Emperor Napoleon returning from Elba. It was at night, +he narrated vaguely, without animation, at a spot between Frejus and +Antibes, in the open country. A big fire had been lit at the side of the +cross-roads. The population from several villages had collected there, +old and young--down to the very children in arms, because the women had +refused to stay at home. Tall soldiers wearing high, hairy caps stood +in a circle, facing the people silently, and their stern eyes and big +mustaches were enough to make everybody keep at a distance. He, “being +an impudent little shaver,” wriggled out of the crowd, creeping on his +hands and knees as near as he dared to the grenadiers' legs, and peeping +through discovered, standing perfectly still in the light of the fire, +“a little fat fellow in a three-cornered hat, buttoned up in a long +straight coat, with a big, pale face inclined on one shoulder, looking +something like a priest. His hands were clasped behind his back. . . . +It appears that this was the Emperor,” the ancient commented, with a +faint sigh. He was staring from the ground with all his might, when +“my poor father,” who had been searching for his boy frantically every +where, pounced upon him and hauled him away by the ear. + +The tale seems an authentic recollection. He related it to me many +times, using the very same words. The grandfather honoured me by a +special and somewhat embarrassing predilection. Extremes touch. He was +the oldest member by a long way in that company, and I was, if I may say +so, its temporarily adopted baby. He had been a pilot longer than any +man in the boat could remember; thirty--forty years. He did not seem +certain himself, but it could be found out, he suggested, in the +archives of the Pilot-office. He had been pensioned off years before, +but he went out from force of habit; and, as my friend the patron of the +company once confided to me in a whisper, “the old chap did no harm. +He was not in the way.” They treated him with rough deference. One and +another would address some insignificant remark to him now and again, +but nobody really took any notice of what he had to say. He had survived +his strength, his usefulness, his very wisdom. He wore long, green, +worsted stockings pulled up above the knee over his trousers, a sort of +woollen nightcap on his hairless cranium, and wooden clogs on his feet. +Without his hooded cloak he looked like a peasant. Half a dozen hands +would be extended to help him on board, but afterward he was left pretty +much to his own thoughts. Of course he never did any work, except, +perhaps, to cast off some rope when hailed, “_He, l'Ancien!_ let go the +halyards there, at your hand”--or some such request of an easy kind. + +No one took notice in any way of the chuckling within the shadow of the +hood. He kept it up for a long time with intense enjoyment. Obviously he +had preserved intact the innocence of mind which is easily amused. But +when his hilarity had exhausted itself, he made a professional remark in +a self-assertive but quavering voice: + +“Can't expect much work on a night like this.” + +No one took it up. It was a mere truism. Nothing under canvas could be +expected to make a port on such an idle night of dreamy splendour and +spiritual stillness. We would have to glide idly to and fro, keeping our +station within the appointed bearings, and, unless a fresh breeze sprang +up with the dawn, we would land before sunrise on a small islet that, +within two miles of us, shone like a lump of frozen moonlight, to “break +a crust and take a pull at the wine bottle.” I was familiar with the +procedure. The stout boat emptied of her crowd would nestle her buoyant, +capable side against the very rock--such is the perfectly smooth amenity +of the classic sea when in a gentle mood. The crust broken and the +mouthful of wine swallowed--it was literally no more than that with this +abstemious race--the pilots would pass the time stamping their feet on +the slabs of sea-salted stone and blowing into their nipped fingers. One +or two misanthropists would sit apart, perched on boulders like +manlike sea-fowl of solitary habits; the sociably disposed would +gossip scandalously in little gesticulating knots; and there would be +perpetually one or another of my hosts taking aim at the empty horizon +with the long, brass tube of the telescope, a heavy, murderous-looking +piece of collective property, everlastingly changing hands with +brandishing and levelling movements. Then about noon (it was a short +turn of duty--the long turn lasted twenty-four hours) another boatful +of pilots would relieve us--and we should steer for the old Phoenician +port, dominated, watched over from the ridge of a dust-gray, arid hill +by the red-and-white striped pile of the Notre Dame de la Garde. + +All this came to pass as I had foreseen in the fullness of my very +recent experience. But also something not foreseen by me did happen, +something which causes me to remember my last outing with the pilots. It +was on this occasion that my hand touched, for the first time, the side +of an English ship. + +No fresh breeze had come with the dawn, only the steady little draught +got a more keen edge on it as the eastern sky became bright and glassy +with a clean, colourless light. It was while we were all ashore on the +islet that a steamer was picked up by the telescope, a black speck like +an insect posed on the hard edge of the offing. She emerged rapidly to +her water-line and came on steadily, a slim hull with a long streak of +smoke slanting away from the rising sun. We embarked in a hurry, and +headed the boat out for our prey, but we hardly moved three miles an +hour. + +She was a big, high-class cargo-steamer of a type that is to be met on +the sea no more--black hull, with low, white superstructures, powerfully +rigged with three masts and a lot of yards on the fore; two hands at her +enormous wheel--steam steering-gear was not a matter of course in these +days--and with them on the bridge three others, bulky in thick blue +jackets, ruddy-faced, muffled up, with peak caps--I suppose all her +officers. There are ships I have met more than once and known well by +sight whose names I have forgotten; but the name of that ship seen once +so many years ago in the clear flush of a cold, pale sunrise I have not +forgotten. How could I--the first English ship on whose side I ever +laid my hand! The name--I read it letter by letter on the bow--was +James Westoll. Not very romantic, you will say. The name of a very +considerable, well-known, and universally respected North country +ship-owner, I believe. James Westoll! What better name could an +honourable hard-working ship have? To me the very grouping of the +letters is alive with the romantic feeling of her reality as I saw her +floating motionless and borrowing an ideal grace from the austere purity +of the light. + +We were then very near her and, on a sudden impulse, I volunteered to +pull bow in the dinghy which shoved off at once to put the pilot on +board while our boat, fanned by the faint air which had attended us all +through the night, went on gliding gently past the black, glistening +length of the ship. A few strokes brought us alongside, and it was then +that, for the very first time in my life, I heard myself addressed +in English--the speech of my secret choice, of my future, of long +friendships, of the deepest affections, of hours of toil and hours of +ease, and of solitary hours, too, of books read, of thoughts pursued, +of remembered emotions--of my very dreams! And if (after being thus +fashioned by it in that part of me which cannot decay) I dare not claim +it aloud as my own, then, at any rate, the speech of my children. Thus +small events grow memorable by the passage of time. As to the quality +of the address itself I cannot say it was very striking. Too short for +eloquence and devoid of all charm of tone, it consisted precisely of the +three words “Look out there!” growled out huskily above my head. + +It proceeded from a big fat fellow (he had an obtrusive, hairy double +chin) in a blue woollen shirt and roomy breeches pulled up very high, +even to the level of his breastbone, by a pair of braces quite exposed +to public view. As where he stood there was no bulwark, but only a +rail and stanchions, I was able to take in at a glance the whole of his +voluminous person from his feet to the high crown of his soft black hat, +which sat like an absurd flanged cone on his big head. The grotesque and +massive aspect of that deck hand (I suppose he was that--very likely the +lamp-trimmer) surprised me very much. My course of reading, of dreaming, +and longing for the sea had not prepared me for a sea brother of that +sort. I never met again a figure in the least like his except in the +illustrations to Mr. W. W. Jacobs's most entertaining tales of barges +and coasters; but the inspired talent of Mr. Jacobs for poking endless +fun at poor, innocent sailors in a prose which, however extravagant in +its felicitous invention, is always artistically adjusted to observed +truth, was not yet. Perhaps Mr. Jacobs himself was not yet. I fancy +that, at most, if he had made his nurse laugh it was about all he had +achieved at that early date. + +Therefore, I repeat, other disabilities apart, I could not have been +prepared for the sight of that husky old porpoise. The object of +his concise address was to call my attention to a rope which he +incontinently flung down for me to catch. I caught it, though it was +not really necessary, the ship having no way on her by that time. Then +everything went on very swiftly. The dinghy came with a slight bump +against the steamer's side; the pilot, grabbing for the rope ladder, had +scrambled half-way up before I knew that our task of boarding was done; +the harsh, muffled clanging of the engine-room telegraph struck my ear +through the iron plate; my companion in the dinghy was urging me to +“shove off--push hard”; and when I bore against the smooth flank of +the first English ship I ever touched in my life, I felt it already +throbbing under my open palm. + +Her head swung a little to the west, pointing toward the miniature +lighthouse of the Jolliette breakwater, far away there, hardly +distinguishable against the land. The dinghy danced a squashy, splashy +jig in the wash of the wake; and, turning in my seat, I followed the +James Westoll with my eyes. Before she had gone in a quarter of a mile +she hoisted her flag, as the harbour regulations prescribe for arriving +and departing ships. I saw it suddenly flicker and stream out on the +flag staff. The Red Ensign! In the pellucid, colourless atmosphere +bathing the drab and gray masses of that southern land, the livid +islets, the sea of pale, glassy blue under the pale, glassy sky of that +cold sunrise, it was, as far as the eye could reach, the only spot of +ardent colour--flame-like, intense, and presently as minute as the tiny +red spark the concentrated reflection of a great fire kindles in +the clear heart of a globe of crystal. The Red Ensign--the symbolic, +protecting, warm bit of bunting flung wide upon the seas, and destined +for so many years to be the only roof over my head. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Personal Record, by Joseph Conrad + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PERSONAL RECORD *** + +***** This file should be named 687-0.txt or 687-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/8/687/ + +Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions 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. 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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 + + +Title: A Personal Record + +Author: Joseph Conrad + +Release Date: January 9, 2006 [EBook #687] +Last Updated: March 2, 2018 + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PERSONAL RECORD *** + + + + +Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1> + A PERSONAL RECORD + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Joseph Conrad + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> A FAMILIAR PREFACE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> A PERSONAL RECORD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VII </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + A FAMILIAR PREFACE + </h2> + <p> + As a general rule we do not want much encouragement to talk about + ourselves; yet this little book is the result of a friendly suggestion, + and even of a little friendly pressure. I defended myself with some + spirit; but, with characteristic tenacity, the friendly voice insisted, + “You know, you really must.” + </p> + <p> + It was not an argument, but I submitted at once. If one must! . . . + </p> + <p> + You perceive the force of a word. He who wants to persuade should put his + trust not in the right argument, but in the right word. The power of sound + has always been greater than the power of sense. I don't say this by way + of disparagement. It is better for mankind to be impressionable than + reflective. Nothing humanely great—great, I mean, as affecting a + whole mass of lives—has come from reflection. On the other hand, you + cannot fail to see the power of mere words; such words as Glory, for + instance, or Pity. I won't mention any more. They are not far to seek. + Shouted with perseverance, with ardour, with conviction, these two by + their sound alone have set whole nations in motion and upheaved the dry, + hard ground on which rests our whole social fabric. There's “virtue” for + you if you like! . . . Of course the accent must be attended to. The right + accent. That's very important. The capacious lung, the thundering or the + tender vocal chords. Don't talk to me of your Archimedes' lever. + </p> + <p> + He was an absent-minded person with a mathematical imagination. + Mathematics commands all my respect, but I have no use for engines. Give + me the right word and the right accent and I will move the world. + </p> + <p> + What a dream for a writer! Because written words have their accent, too. + Yes! Let me only find the right word! Surely it must be lying somewhere + among the wreckage of all the plaints and all the exultations poured out + aloud since the first day when hope, the undying, came down on earth. It + may be there, close by, disregarded, invisible, quite at hand. But it's no + good. I believe there are men who can lay hold of a needle in a pottle of + hay at the first try. For myself, I have never had such luck. And then + there is that accent. Another difficulty. For who is going to tell whether + the accent is right or wrong till the word is shouted, and fails to be + heard, perhaps, and goes down-wind, leaving the world unmoved? Once upon a + time there lived an emperor who was a sage and something of a literary + man. He jotted down on ivory tablets thoughts, maxims, reflections which + chance has preserved for the edification of posterity. Among other sayings—I + am quoting from memory—I remember this solemn admonition: “Let all + thy words have the accent of heroic truth.” The accent of heroic truth! + This is very fine, but I am thinking that it is an easy matter for an + austere emperor to jot down grandiose advice. Most of the working truths + on this earth are humble, not heroic; and there have been times in the + history of mankind when the accents of heroic truth have moved it to + nothing but derision. + </p> + <p> + Nobody will expect to find between the covers of this little book words of + extraordinary potency or accents of irresistible heroism. However + humiliating for my self esteem, I must confess that the counsels of Marcus + Aurelius are not for me. They are more fit for a moralist than for an + artist. Truth of a modest sort I can promise you, and also sincerity. That + complete, praise worthy sincerity which, while it delivers one into the + hands of one's enemies, is as likely as not to embroil one with one's + friends. + </p> + <p> + “Embroil” is perhaps too strong an expression. I can't imagine among + either my enemies or my friends a being so hard up for something to do as + to quarrel with me. “To disappoint one's friends” would be nearer the + mark. Most, almost all, friend ships of the writing period of my life have + come to me through my books; and I know that a novelist lives in his work. + He stands there, the only reality in an invented world, among imaginary + things, happenings, and people. Writing about them, he is only writing + about himself. But the disclosure is not complete. He remains, to a + certain extent, a figure behind the veil; a suspected rather than a seen + presence—a movement and a voice behind the draperies of fiction. In + these personal notes there is no such veil. And I cannot help thinking of + a passage in the “Imitation of Christ” where the ascetic author, who knew + life so profoundly, says that “there are persons esteemed on their + reputation who by showing themselves destroy the opinion one had of them.” + This is the danger incurred by an author of fiction who sets out to talk + about himself without disguise. + </p> + <p> + While these reminiscent pages were appearing serially I was remonstrated + with for bad economy; as if such writing were a form of self-indulgence + wasting the substance of future volumes. It seems that I am not + sufficiently literary. Indeed, a man who never wrote a line for print till + he was thirty-six cannot bring himself to look upon his existence and his + experience, upon the sum of his thoughts, sensations, and emotions, upon + his memories and his regrets, and the whole possession of his past, as + only so much material for his hands. Once before, some three years ago, + when I published “The Mirror of the Sea,” a volume of impressions and + memories, the same remarks were made to me. Practical remarks. But, truth + to say, I have never understood the kind of thrift they recommend. I + wanted to pay my tribute to the sea, its ships and its men, to whom I + remain indebted for so much which has gone to make me what I am. That + seemed to me the only shape in which I could offer it to their shades. + There could not be a question in my mind of anything else. It is quite + possible that I am a bad economist; but it is certain that I am + incorrigible. + </p> + <p> + Having matured in the surroundings and under the special conditions of sea + life, I have a special piety toward that form of my past; for its + impressions were vivid, its appeal direct, its demands such as could be + responded to with the natural elation of youth and strength equal to the + call. There was nothing in them to perplex a young conscience. Having + broken away from my origins under a storm of blame from every quarter + which had the merest shadow of right to voice an opinion, removed by great + distances from such natural affections as were still left to me, and even + estranged, in a measure, from them by the totally unintelligible character + of the life which had seduced me so mysteriously from my allegiance, I may + safely say that through the blind force of circumstances the sea was to be + all my world and the merchant service my only home for a long succession + of years. No wonder, then, that in my two exclusively sea books—“The + Nigger of the Narcissus,” and “The Mirror of the Sea” (and in the few + short sea stories like “Youth” and “Typhoon”)—I have tried with an + almost filial regard to render the vibration of life in the great world of + waters, in the hearts of the simple men who have for ages traversed its + solitudes, and also that something sentient which seems to dwell in ships—the + creatures of their hands and the objects of their care. + </p> + <p> + One's literary life must turn frequently for sustenance to memories and + seek discourse with the shades, unless one has made up one's mind to write + only in order to reprove mankind for what it is, or praise it for what it + is not, or—generally—to teach it how to behave. Being neither + quarrelsome, nor a flatterer, nor a sage, I have done none of these + things, and I am prepared to put up serenely with the insignificance which + attaches to persons who are not meddlesome in some way or other. But + resignation is not indifference. I would not like to be left standing as a + mere spectator on the bank of the great stream carrying onward so many + lives. I would fain claim for myself the faculty of so much insight as can + be expressed in a voice of sympathy and compassion. + </p> + <p> + It seems to me that in one, at least, authoritative quarter of criticism I + am suspected of a certain unemotional, grim acceptance of facts—of + what the French would call <i>secheresse du coeur</i>. Fifteen years of + unbroken silence before praise or blame testify sufficiently to my respect + for criticism, that fine flower of personal expression in the garden of + letters. But this is more of a personal matter, reaching the man behind + the work, and therefore it may be alluded to in a volume which is a + personal note in the margin of the public page. Not that I feel hurt in + the least. The charge—if it amounted to a charge at all—was + made in the most considerate terms; in a tone of regret. + </p> + <p> + My answer is that if it be true that every novel contains an element of + autobiography—and this can hardly be denied, since the creator can + only express himself in his creation—then there are some of us to + whom an open display of sentiment is repugnant. + </p> + <p> + I would not unduly praise the virtue of restraint. It is often merely + temperamental. But it is not always a sign of coldness. It may be pride. + There can be nothing more humiliating than to see the shaft of one's + emotion miss the mark of either laughter or tears. Nothing more + humiliating! And this for the reason that should the mark be missed, + should the open display of emotion fail to move, then it must perish + unavoidably in disgust or contempt. No artist can be reproached for + shrinking from a risk which only fools run to meet and only genius dare + confront with impunity. In a task which mainly consists in laying one's + soul more or less bare to the world, a regard for decency, even at the + cost of success, is but the regard for one's own dignity which is + inseparably united with the dignity of one's work. + </p> + <p> + And then—it is very difficult to be wholly joyous or wholly sad on + this earth. The comic, when it is human, soon takes upon itself a face of + pain; and some of our griefs (some only, not all, for it is the capacity + for suffering which makes man August in the eyes of men) have their source + in weaknesses which must be recognized with smiling com passion as the + common inheritance of us all. Joy and sorrow in this world pass into each + other, mingling their forms and their murmurs in the twilight of life as + mysterious as an over shadowed ocean, while the dazzling brightness of + supreme hopes lies far off, fascinating and still, on the distant edge of + the horizon. + </p> + <p> + Yes! I, too, would like to hold the magic wand giving that command over + laughter and tears which is declared to be the highest achievement of + imaginative literature. Only, to be a great magician one must surrender + oneself to occult and irresponsible powers, either outside or within one's + breast. We have all heard of simple men selling their souls for love or + power to some grotesque devil. The most ordinary intelligence can perceive + without much reflection that anything of the sort is bound to be a fool's + bargain. I don't lay claim to particular wisdom because of my dislike and + distrust of such transactions. It may be my sea training acting upon a + natural disposition to keep good hold on the one thing really mine, but + the fact is that I have a positive horror of losing even for one moving + moment that full possession of my self which is the first condition of + good service. And I have carried my notion of good service from my earlier + into my later existence. I, who have never sought in the written word + anything else but a form of the Beautiful—I have carried over that + article of creed from the decks of ships to the more circumscribed space + of my desk, and by that act, I suppose, I have become permanently + imperfect in the eyes of the ineffable company of pure esthetes. + </p> + <p> + As in political so in literary action a man wins friends for himself + mostly by the passion of his prejudices and by the consistent narrowness + of his outlook. But I have never been able to love what was not lovable or + hate what was not hateful out of deference for some general principle. + Whether there be any courage in making this admission I know not. After + the middle turn of life's way we consider dangers and joys with a tranquil + mind. So I proceed in peace to declare that I have always suspected in the + effort to bring into play the extremities of emotions the debasing touch + of insincerity. In order to move others deeply we must deliberately allow + ourselves to be carried away beyond the bounds of our normal sensibility—innocently + enough, perhaps, and of necessity, like an actor who raises his voice on + the stage above the pitch of natural conversation—but still we have + to do that. And surely this is no great sin. But the danger lies in the + writer becoming the victim of his own exaggeration, losing the exact + notion of sincerity, and in the end coming to despise truth itself as + something too cold, too blunt for his purpose—as, in fact, not good + enough for his insistent emotion. From laughter and tears the descent is + easy to snivelling and giggles. + </p> + <p> + These may seem selfish considerations; but you can't, in sound morals, + condemn a man for taking care of his own integrity. It is his clear duty. + And least of all can you condemn an artist pursuing, however humbly and + imperfectly, a creative aim. In that interior world where his thought and + his emotions go seeking for the experience of imagined adventures, there + are no policemen, no law, no pressure of circumstance or dread of opinion + to keep him within bounds. Who then is going to say Nay to his temptations + if not his conscience? + </p> + <p> + And besides—this, remember, is the place and the moment of perfectly + open talk—I think that all ambitions are lawful except those which + climb upward on the miseries or credulities of mankind. All intellectual + and artistic ambitions are permissible, up to and even beyond the limit of + prudent sanity. They can hurt no one. If they are mad, then so much the + worse for the artist. Indeed, as virtue is said to be, such ambitions are + their own reward. Is it such a very mad presumption to believe in the + sovereign power of one's art, to try for other means, for other ways of + affirming this belief in the deeper appeal of one's work? To try to go + deeper is not to be insensible. A historian of hearts is not a historian + of emotions, yet he penetrates further, restrained as he may be, since his + aim is to reach the very fount of laughter and tears. The sight of human + affairs deserves admiration and pity. They are worthy of respect, too. And + he is not insensible who pays them the undemonstrative tribute of a sigh + which is not a sob, and of a smile which is not a grin. Resignation, not + mystic, not detached, but resignation open-eyed, conscious, and informed + by love, is the only one of our feelings for which it is impossible to + become a sham. + </p> + <p> + Not that I think resignation the last word of wisdom. I am too much the + creature of my time for that. But I think that the proper wisdom is to + will what the gods will without, perhaps, being certain what their will is—or + even if they have a will of their own. And in this matter of life and art + it is not the Why that matters so much to our happiness as the How. As the + Frenchman said, “<i>Il y a toujours la maniere</i>.” Very true. Yes. There + is the manner. The manner in laughter, in tears, in irony, in indignations + and enthusiasms, in judgments—and even in love. The manner in which, + as in the features and character of a human face, the inner truth is + foreshadowed for those who know how to look at their kind. + </p> + <p> + 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, among 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. The revolutionary spirit is mighty convenient in this, that it + frees one from all scruples as regards ideas. Its hard, absolute optimism + is repulsive to my mind by the menace of fanaticism and intolerance it + contains. No doubt one should smile at these things; but, imperfect + Esthete, I am no better Philosopher. + </p> + <p> + All claim to special righteousness awakens in me that scorn and danger + from which a philosophical mind should be free. . . . + </p> + <p> + I fear that trying to be conversational I have only managed to be unduly + discursive. I have never been very well acquainted with the art of + conversation—that art which, I understand, is supposed to be lost + now. My young days, the days when one's habits and character are formed, + have been rather familiar with long silences. Such voices as broke into + them were anything but conversational. No. I haven't got the habit. Yet + this discursiveness is not so irrelevant to the handful of pages which + follow. They, too, have been charged with discursiveness, with disregard + of chronological order (which is in itself a crime), with + unconventionality of form (which is an impropriety). I was told severely + that the public would view with displeasure the informal character of my + recollections. “Alas!” I protested, mildly. “Could I begin with the + sacramental words, 'I was born on such a date in such a place'? The + remoteness of the locality would have robbed the statement of all + interest. I haven't lived through wonderful adventures to be related + seriatim. I haven't known distinguished men on whom I could pass fatuous + remarks. I haven't been mixed up with great or scandalous affairs. This is + but a bit of psychological document, and even so, I haven't written it + with a view to put forward any conclusion of my own.” + </p> + <p> + But my objector was not placated. These were good reasons for not writing + at all—not a defense of what stood written already, he said. + </p> + <p> + I admit that almost anything, anything in the world, would serve as a good + reason for not writing at all. But since I have written them, all I want + to say in their defense is that these memories put down without any regard + for established conventions have not been thrown off without system and + purpose. They have their hope and their aim. The hope that from the + reading of these pages there may emerge at last the vision of a + personality; the man behind the books so fundamentally dissimilar as, for + instance, “Almayer's Folly” and “The Secret Agent,” and yet a coherent, + justifiable personality both in its origin and in its action. This is the + hope. The immediate aim, closely associated with the hope, is to give the + record of personal memories by presenting faithfully the feelings and + sensations connected with the writing of my first book and with my first + contact with the sea. + </p> + <p> + In the purposely mingled resonance of this double strain a friend here and + there will perhaps detect a subtle accord. + </p> + <p> + J. C. K. <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A PERSONAL RECORD + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <p> + Books may be written in all sorts of places. Verbal inspiration may enter + the berth of a mariner on board a ship frozen fast in a river in the + middle of a town; and since saints are supposed to look benignantly on + humble believers, I indulge in the pleasant fancy that the shade of old + Flaubert—who imagined himself to be (among other things) a + descendant of Vikings—might have hovered with amused interest over + the docks of a 2,000-ton steamer called the Adowa, on board of which, + gripped by the inclement winter alongside a quay in Rouen, the tenth + chapter of “Almayer's Folly” was begun. With interest, I say, for was not + the kind Norman giant with enormous mustaches and a thundering voice the + last of the Romantics? Was he not, in his unworldly, almost ascetic, + devotion to his art, a sort of literary, saint-like hermit? + </p> + <p> + “'It has set at last,' said Nina to her mother, pointing to the hills + behind which the sun had sunk.” . . . These words of Almayer's romantic + daughter I remember tracing on the gray paper of a pad which rested on the + blanket of my bed-place. They referred to a sunset in Malayan Isles and + shaped themselves in my mind, in a hallucinated vision of forests and + rivers and seas, far removed from a commercial and yet romantic town of + the northern hemisphere. But at that moment the mood of visions and words + was cut short by the third officer, a cheerful and casual youth, coming in + with a bang of the door and the exclamation: “You've made it jolly warm in + here.” + </p> + <p> + It was warm. I had turned on the steam heater after placing a tin under + the leaky water-cock—for perhaps you do not know that water will + leak where steam will not. I am not aware of what my young friend had been + doing on deck all that morning, but the hands he rubbed together + vigorously were very red and imparted to me a chilly feeling by their mere + aspect. He has remained the only banjoist of my acquaintance, and being + also a younger son of a retired colonel, the poem of Mr. Kipling, by a + strange aberration of associated ideas, always seems to me to have been + written with an exclusive view to his person. When he did not play the + banjo he loved to sit and look at it. He proceeded to this sentimental + inspection, and after meditating a while over the strings under my silent + scrutiny inquired, airily: + </p> + <p> + “What are you always scribbling there, if it's fair to ask?” + </p> + <p> + It was a fair enough question, but I did not answer him, and simply turned + the pad over with a movement of instinctive secrecy: I could not have told + him he had put to flight the psychology of Nina Almayer, her opening + speech of the tenth chapter, and the words of Mrs. Almayer's wisdom which + were to follow in the ominous oncoming of a tropical night. I could not + have told him that Nina had said, “It has set at last.” He would have been + extremely surprised and perhaps have dropped his precious banjo. Neither + could I have told him that the sun of my sea-going was setting, too, even + as I wrote the words expressing the impatience of passionate youth bent on + its desire. I did not know this myself, and it is safe to say he would not + have cared, though he was an excellent young fellow and treated me with + more deference than, in our relative positions, I was strictly entitled + to. + </p> + <p> + He lowered a tender gaze on his banjo, and I went on looking through the + port-hole. The round opening framed in its brass rim a fragment of the + quays, with a row of casks ranged on the frozen ground and the tail end of + a great cart. A red-nosed carter in a blouse and a woollen night-cap + leaned against the wheel. An idle, strolling custom house guard, belted + over his blue capote, had the air of being depressed by exposure to the + weather and the monotony of official existence. The background of grimy + houses found a place in the picture framed by my port-hole, across a wide + stretch of paved quay brown with frozen mud. The colouring was sombre, and + the most conspicuous feature was a little cafe with curtained windows and + a shabby front of white woodwork, corresponding with the squalor of these + poorer quarters bordering the river. We had been shifted down there from + another berth in the neighbourhood of the Opera House, where that same + port-hole gave me a view of quite another sort of cafe—the best in + the town, I believe, and the very one where the worthy Bovary and his + wife, the romantic daughter of old Pere Renault, had some refreshment + after the memorable performance of an opera which was the tragic story of + Lucia di Lammermoor in a setting of light music. + </p> + <p> + I could recall no more the hallucination of the Eastern Archipelago which + I certainly hoped to see again. The story of “Almayer's Folly” got put + away under the pillow for that day. I do not know that I had any + occupation to keep me away from it; the truth of the matter is that on + board that ship we were leading just then a contemplative life. I will not + say anything of my privileged position. I was there “just to oblige,” as + an actor of standing may take a small part in the benefit performance of a + friend. + </p> + <p> + As far as my feelings were concerned I did not wish to be in that steamer + at that time and in those circumstances. And perhaps I was not even wanted + there in the usual sense in which a ship “wants” an officer. It was the + first and last instance in my sea life when I served ship-owners who have + remained completely shadowy to my apprehension. I do not mean this for the + well-known firm of London ship-brokers which had chartered the ship to + the, I will not say short-lived, but ephemeral Franco-Canadian Transport + Company. A death leaves something behind, but there was never anything + tangible left from the F. C. T. C. It flourished no longer than roses + live, and unlike the roses it blossomed in the dead of winter, emitted a + sort of faint perfume of adventure, and died before spring set in. But + indubitably it was a company, it had even a house-flag, all white with the + letters F. C. T. C. artfully tangled up in a complicated monogram. We flew + it at our mainmast head, and now I have come to the conclusion that it was + the only flag of its kind in existence. All the same we on board, for many + days, had the impression of being a unit of a large fleet with fortnightly + departures for Montreal and Quebec as advertised in pamphlets and + prospectuses which came aboard in a large package in Victoria Dock, + London, just before we started for Rouen, France. And in the shadowy life + of the F. C. T. C. lies the secret of that, my last employment in my + calling, which in a remote sense interrupted the rhythmical development of + Nina Almayer's story. + </p> + <p> + The then secretary of the London Shipmasters' Society, with its modest + rooms in Fenchurch Street, was a man of indefatigable activity and the + greatest devotion to his task. He is responsible for what was my last + association with a ship. I call it that because it can hardly be called a + sea-going experience. Dear Captain Froud—it is impossible not to pay + him the tribute of affectionate familiarity at this distance of years—had + very sound views as to the advancement of knowledge and status for the + whole body of the officers of the mercantile marine. He organized for us + courses of professional lectures, St. John ambulance classes, corresponded + industriously with public bodies and members of Parliament on subjects + touching the interests of the service; and as to the oncoming of some + inquiry or commission relating to matters of the sea and to the work of + seamen, it was a perfect godsend to his need of exerting himself on our + corporate behalf. Together with this high sense of his official duties he + had in him a vein of personal kindness, a strong disposition to do what + good he could to the individual members of that craft of which in his time + he had been a very excellent master. And what greater kindness can one do + to a seaman than to put him in the way of employment? Captain Froud did + not see why the Shipmasters' Society, besides its general guardianship of + our interests, should not be unofficially an employment agency of the very + highest class. + </p> + <p> + “I am trying to persuade all our great ship-owning firms to come to us for + their men. There is nothing of a trade-union spirit about our society, and + I really don't see why they should not,” he said once to me. “I am always + telling the captains, too, that, all things being equal, they ought to + give preference to the members of the society. In my position I can + generally find for them what they want among our members or our associate + members.” + </p> + <p> + In my wanderings about London from west to east and back again (I was very + idle then) the two little rooms in Fenchurch Street were a sort of + resting-place where my spirit, hankering after the sea, could feel itself + nearer to the ships, the men, and the life of its choice—nearer + there than on any other spot of the solid earth. This resting-place used + to be, at about five o'clock in the afternoon, full of men and tobacco + smoke, but Captain Froud had the smaller room to himself and there he + granted private interviews, whose principal motive was to render service. + Thus, one murky November afternoon he beckoned me in with a crooked finger + and that peculiar glance above his spectacles which is perhaps my + strongest physical recollection of the man. + </p> + <p> + “I have had in here a shipmaster, this morning,” he said, getting back to + his desk and motioning me to a chair, “who is in want of an officer. It's + for a steamship. You know, nothing pleases me more than to be asked, but, + unfortunately, I do not quite see my way . . .” + </p> + <p> + As the outer room was full of men I cast a wondering glance at the closed + door; but he shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I should be only too glad to get that berth for one of them. But + the fact of the matter is, the captain of that ship wants an officer who + can speak French fluently, and that's not so easy to find. I do not know + anybody myself but you. It's a second officer's berth and, of course, you + would not care . . . would you now? I know that it isn't what you are + looking for.” + </p> + <p> + It was not. I had given myself up to the idleness of a haunted man who + looks for nothing but words wherein to capture his visions. But I admit + that outwardly I resembled sufficiently a man who could make a second + officer for a steamer chartered by a French company. I showed no sign of + being haunted by the fate of Nina and by the murmurs of tropical forests; + and even my intimate intercourse with Almayer (a person of weak character) + had not put a visible mark upon my features. For many years he and the + world of his story had been the companions of my imagination without, I + hope, impairing my ability to deal with the realities of sea life. I had + had the man and his surroundings with me ever since my return from the + eastern waters—some four years before the day of which I speak. + </p> + <p> + It was in the front sitting-room of furnished apartments in a Pimlico + square that they first began to live again with a vividness and poignancy + quite foreign to our former real intercourse. I had been treating myself + to a long stay on shore, and in the necessity of occupying my mornings + Almayer (that old acquaintance) came nobly to the rescue. + </p> + <p> + Before long, as was only proper, his wife and daughter joined him round my + table, and then the rest of that Pantai band came full of words and + gestures. Unknown to my respectable landlady, it was my practice directly + after my breakfast to hold animated receptions of Malays, Arabs, and + half-castes. They did not clamour aloud for my attention. They came with a + silent and irresistible appeal—and the appeal, I affirm here, was + not to my self-love or my vanity. It seems now to have had a moral + character, for why should the memory of these beings, seen in their + obscure, sun-bathed existence, demand to express itself in the shape of a + novel, except on the ground of that mysterious fellowship which unites in + a community of hopes and fears all the dwellers on this earth? + </p> + <p> + I did not receive my visitors with boisterous rapture as the bearers of + any gifts of profit or fame. There was no vision of a printed book before + me as I sat writing at that table, situated in a decayed part of + Belgravia. After all these years, each leaving its evidence of slowly + blackened pages, I can honestly say that it is a sentiment akin to pity + which prompted me to render in words assembled with conscientious care the + memory of things far distant and of men who had lived. + </p> + <p> + But, coming back to Captain Froud and his fixed idea of never + disappointing ship owners or ship-captains, it was not likely that I + should fail him in his ambition—to satisfy at a few hours' notice + the unusual demand for a French-speaking officer. He explained to me that + the ship was chartered by a French company intending to establish a + regular monthly line of sailings from Rouen, for the transport of French + emigrants to Canada. But, frankly, this sort of thing did not interest me + very much. I said gravely that if it were really a matter of keeping up + the reputation of the Shipmasters' Society I would consider it. But the + consideration was just for form's sake. The next day I interviewed the + captain, and I believe we were impressed favourably with each other. He + explained that his chief mate was an excellent man in every respect and + that he could not think of dismissing him so as to give me the higher + position; but that if I consented to come as second officer I would be + given certain special advantages—and so on. + </p> + <p> + I told him that if I came at all the rank really did not matter. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure,” he insisted, “you will get on first rate with Mr. Paramor.” + </p> + <p> + I promised faithfully to stay for two trips at least, and it was in those + circumstances that what was to be my last connection with a ship began. + And after all there was not even one single trip. It may be that it was + simply the fulfilment of a fate, of that written word on my forehead which + apparently forbade me, through all my sea wanderings, ever to achieve the + crossing of the Western Ocean—using the words in that special sense + in which sailors speak of Western Ocean trade, of Western Ocean packets, + of Western Ocean hard cases. The new life attended closely upon the old, + and the nine chapters of “Almayer's Folly” went with me to the Victoria + Dock, whence in a few days we started for Rouen. I won't go so far as + saying that the engaging of a man fated never to cross the Western Ocean + was the absolute cause of the Franco-Canadian Transport Company's failure + to achieve even a single passage. It might have been that of course; but + the obvious, gross obstacle was clearly the want of money. Four hundred + and sixty bunks for emigrants were put together in the 'tween decks by + industrious carpenters while we lay in the Victoria Dock, but never an + emigrant turned up in Rouen—of which, being a humane person, I + confess I was glad. Some gentlemen from Paris—I think there were + three of them, and one was said to be the chairman—turned up, + indeed, and went from end to end of the ship, knocking their silk hats + cruelly against the deck beams. I attended them personally, and I can + vouch for it that the interest they took in things was intelligent enough, + though, obviously, they had never seen anything of the sort before. Their + faces as they went ashore wore a cheerfully inconclusive expression. + Notwithstanding that this inspecting ceremony was supposed to be a + preliminary to immediate sailing, it was then, as they filed down our + gangway, that I received the inward monition that no sailing within the + meaning of our charter party would ever take place. + </p> + <p> + It must be said that in less than three weeks a move took place. When we + first arrived we had been taken up with much ceremony well toward the + centre of the town, and, all the street corners being placarded with the + tricolor posters announcing the birth of our company, the petit bourgeois + with his wife and family made a Sunday holiday from the inspection of the + ship. I was always in evidence in my best uniform to give information as + though I had been a Cook's tourists' interpreter, while our quartermasters + reaped a harvest of small change from personally conducted parties. But + when the move was made—that move which carried us some mile and a + half down the stream to be tied up to an altogether muddier and shabbier + quay—then indeed the desolation of solitude became our lot. It was a + complete and soundless stagnation; for as we had the ship ready for sea to + the smallest detail, as the frost was hard and the days short, we were + absolutely idle—idle to the point of blushing with shame when the + thought struck us that all the time our salaries went on. Young Cole was + aggrieved because, as he said, we could not enjoy any sort of fun in the + evening after loafing like this all day; even the banjo lost its charm + since there was nothing to prevent his strumming on it all the time + between the meals. The good Paramor—he was really a most excellent + fellow—became unhappy as far as was possible to his cheery nature, + till one dreary day I suggested, out of sheer mischief, that he should + employ the dormant energies of the crew in hauling both cables up on deck + and turning them end for end. + </p> + <p> + For a moment Mr. Paramor was radiant. “Excellent idea!” but directly his + face fell. “Why . . . Yes! But we can't make that job last more than three + days,” he muttered, discontentedly. I don't know how long he expected us + to be stuck on the riverside outskirts of Rouen, but I know that the + cables got hauled up and turned end for end according to my satanic + suggestion, put down again, and their very existence utterly forgotten, I + believe, before a French river pilot came on board to take our ship down, + empty as she came, into the Havre roads. You may think that this state of + forced idleness favoured some advance in the fortunes of Almayer and his + daughter. Yet it was not so. As if it were some sort of evil spell, my + banjoist cabin mate's interruption, as related above, had arrested them + short at the point of that fateful sunset for many weeks together. It was + always thus with this book, begun in '89 and finished in '94—with + that shortest of all the novels which it was to be my lot to write. + Between its opening exclamation calling Almayer to his dinner in his + wife's voice and Abdullah's (his enemy) mental reference to the God of + Islam—“The Merciful, the Compassionate”—which closes the book, + there were to come several long sea passages, a visit (to use the elevated + phraseology suitable to the occasion) to the scenes (some of them) of my + childhood and the realization of childhood's vain words, expressing a + light-hearted and romantic whim. + </p> + <p> + It was in 1868, when nine years old or thereabouts, that while looking at + a map of Africa of the time and putting my finger on the blank space then + representing the unsolved mystery of that continent, I said to myself, + with absolute assurance and an amazing audacity which are no longer in my + character now: + </p> + <p> + “When I grow up I shall go <i>there</i>.” + </p> + <p> + And of course I thought no more about it till after a quarter of a century + or so an opportunity offered to go there—as if the sin of childish + audacity were to be visited on my mature head. Yes. I did go there: <i>there</i> + being the region of Stanley Falls, which in '68 was the blankest of blank + spaces on the earth's figured surface. And the MS. of “Almayer's Folly,” + carried about me as if it were a talisman or a treasure, went <i>there</i>, + too. That it ever came out of <i>there</i> seems a special dispensation of + Providence, because a good many of my other properties, infinitely more + valuable and useful to me, remained behind through unfortunate accidents + of transportation. I call to mind, for instance, a specially awkward turn + of the Congo between Kinchassa and Leopoldsville—more particularly + when one had to take it at night in a big canoe with only half the proper + number of paddlers. I failed in being the second white man on record + drowned at that interesting spot through the upsetting of a canoe. The + first was a young Belgian officer, but the accident happened some months + before my time, and he, too, I believe, was going home; not perhaps quite + so ill as myself—but still he was going home. I got round the turn + more or less alive, though I was too sick to care whether I did or not, + and, always with “Almayer's Folly” among my diminishing baggage, I arrived + at that delectable capital, Boma, where, before the departure of the + steamer which was to take me home, I had the time to wish myself dead over + and over again with perfect sincerity. At that date there were in + existence only seven chapters of “Almayer's Folly,” but the chapter in my + history which followed was that of a long, long illness and very dismal + convalescence. Geneva, or more precisely the hydropathic establishment of + Champel, is rendered forever famous by the termination of the eighth + chapter in the history of Almayer's decline and fall. The events of the + ninth are inextricably mixed up with the details of the proper management + of a waterside warehouse owned by a certain city firm whose name does not + matter. But that work, undertaken to accustom myself again to the + activities of a healthy existence, soon came to an end. The earth had + nothing to hold me with for very long. And then that memorable story, like + a cask of choice Madeira, got carried for three years to and fro upon the + sea. Whether this treatment improved its flavour or not, of course I would + not like to say. As far as appearance is concerned it certainly did + nothing of the kind. The whole MS. acquired a faded look and an ancient, + yellowish complexion. It became at last unreasonable to suppose that + anything in the world would ever happen to Almayer and Nina. And yet + something most unlikely to happen on the high seas was to wake them up + from their state of suspended animation. + </p> + <p> + What is it that Novalis says: “It is certain my conviction gains + infinitely the moment an other soul will believe in it.” And what is a + novel if not a conviction of our fellow-men's existence strong enough to + take upon itself a form of imagined life clearer than reality and whose + accumulated verisimilitude of selected episodes puts to shame the pride of + documentary history. Providence which saved my MS. from the Congo rapids + brought it to the knowledge of a helpful soul far out on the open sea. It + would be on my part the greatest ingratitude ever to forget the sallow, + sunken face and the deep-set, dark eyes of the young Cambridge man (he was + a “passenger for his health” on board the good ship Torrens outward bound + to Australia) who was the first reader of “Almayer's Folly”—the very + first reader I ever had. + </p> + <p> + “Would it bore you very much in reading a MS. in a handwriting like mine?” + I asked him one evening, on a sudden impulse at the end of a longish + conversation whose subject was Gibbon's History. + </p> + <p> + Jacques (that was his name) was sitting in my cabin one stormy dog-watch + below, after bring me a book to read from his own travelling store. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” he answered, with his courteous intonation and a faint + smile. As I pulled a drawer open his suddenly aroused curiosity gave him a + watchful expression. I wonder what he expected to see. A poem, maybe. All + that's beyond guessing now. + </p> + <p> + He was not a cold, but a calm man, still more subdued by disease—a + man of few words and of an unassuming modesty in general intercourse, but + with something uncommon in the whole of his person which set him apart + from the undistinguished lot of our sixty passengers. His eyes had a + thoughtful, introspective look. In his attractive reserved manner and in a + veiled sympathetic voice he asked: + </p> + <p> + “What is this?” “It is a sort of tale,” I answered, with an effort. “It is + not even finished yet. Nevertheless, I would like to know what you think + of it.” He put the MS. in the breast-pocket of his jacket; I remember + perfectly his thin, brown fingers folding it lengthwise. “I will read it + to-morrow,” he remarked, seizing the door handle; and then watching the + roll of the ship for a propitious moment, he opened the door and was gone. + In the moment of his exit I heard the sustained booming of the wind, the + swish of the water on the decks of the Torrens, and the subdued, as if + distant, roar of the rising sea. I noted the growing disquiet in the great + restlessness of the ocean, and responded professionally to it with the + thought that at eight o'clock, in another half hour or so at the farthest, + the topgallant sails would have to come off the ship. + </p> + <p> + Next day, but this time in the first dog watch, Jacques entered my cabin. + He had a thick woollen muffler round his throat, and the MS. was in his + hand. He tendered it to me with a steady look, but without a word. I took + it in silence. He sat down on the couch and still said nothing. I opened + and shut a drawer under my desk, on which a filled-up log-slate lay wide + open in its wooden frame waiting to be copied neatly into the sort of book + I was accustomed to write with care, the ship's log-book. I turned my back + squarely on the desk. And even then Jacques never offered a word. “Well, + what do you say?” I asked at last. “Is it worth finishing?” This question + expressed exactly the whole of my thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “Distinctly,” he answered, in his sedate, veiled voice, and then coughed a + little. + </p> + <p> + “Were you interested?” I inquired further, almost in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Very much!” + </p> + <p> + In a pause I went on meeting instinctively the heavy rolling of the ship, + and Jacques put his feet upon the couch. The curtain of my bed-place swung + to and fro as if it were a punkah, the bulkhead lamp circled in its + gimbals, and now and then the cabin door rattled slightly in the gusts of + wind. It was in latitude 40 south, and nearly in the longitude of + Greenwich, as far as I can remember, that these quiet rites of Almayer's + and Nina's resurrection were taking place. In the prolonged silence it + occurred to me that there was a good deal of retrospective writing in the + story as far as it went. Was it intelligible in its action, I asked + myself, as if already the story-teller were being born into the body of a + seaman. But I heard on deck the whistle of the officer of the watch and + remained on the alert to catch the order that was to follow this call to + attention. It reached me as a faint, fierce shout to “Square the yards.” + “Aha!” I thought to myself, “a westerly blow coming on.” Then I turned to + my very first reader, who, alas! was not to live long enough to know the + end of the tale. + </p> + <p> + “Now let me ask you one more thing: is the story quite clear to you as it + stands?” + </p> + <p> + He raised his dark, gentle eyes to my face and seemed surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! Perfectly.” + </p> + <p> + This was all I was to hear from his lips concerning the merits of + “Almayer's Folly.” We never spoke together of the book again. A long + period of bad weather set in and I had no thoughts left but for my duties, + while poor Jacques caught a fatal cold and had to keep close in his cabin. + When we arrived in Adelaide the first reader of my prose went at once + up-country, and died rather suddenly in the end, either in Australia or it + may be on the passage while going home through the Suez Canal. I am not + sure which it was now, and I do not think I ever heard precisely; though I + made inquiries about him from some of our return passengers who, wandering + about to “see the country” during the ship's stay in port, had come upon + him here and there. At last we sailed, homeward bound, and still not one + line was added to the careless scrawl of the many pages which poor Jacques + had had the patience to read with the very shadows of Eternity gathering + already in the hollows of his kind, steadfast eyes. + </p> + <p> + The purpose instilled into me by his simple and final “Distinctly” + remained dormant, yet alive to await its opportunity. I dare say I am + compelled—unconsciously compelled—now to write volume after + volume, as in past years I was compelled to go to sea voyage after voyage. + Leaves must follow upon one an other as leagues used to follow in the days + gone by, on and on to the appointed end, which, being Truth itself, is One—one + for all men and for all occupations. + </p> + <p> + I do not know which of the two impulses has appeared more mysterious and + more wonderful to me. Still, in writing, as in going to sea, I had to wait + my opportunity. Let me confess here that I was never one of those + wonderful fellows that would go afloat in a wash-tub for the sake of the + fun, and if I may pride myself upon my consistency, it was ever just the + same with my writing. Some men, I have heard, write in railway carriages, + and could do it, perhaps, sitting crossed-legged on a clothes-line; but I + must confess that my sybaritic disposition will not consent to write + without something at least resembling a chair. Line by line, rather than + page by page, was the growth of “Almayer's Folly.” + </p> + <p> + And so it happened that I very nearly lost the MS., advanced now to the + first words of the ninth chapter, in the Friedrichstrasse Poland, or more + precisely to Ukraine. On an early, sleepy morning changing trains in a + hurry I left my Gladstone bag in a refreshment-room. A worthy and + intelligent Koffertrager rescued it. Yet in my anxiety I was not thinking + of the MS., but of all the other things that were packed in the bag. + </p> + <p> + In Warsaw, where I spent two days, those wandering pages were never + exposed to the light, except once to candle-light, while the bag lay open + on the chair. I was dressing hurriedly to dine at a sporting club. A + friend of my childhood (he had been in the Diplomatic Service, but had + turned to growing wheat on paternal acres, and we had not seen each other + for over twenty years) was sitting on the hotel sofa waiting to carry me + off there. + </p> + <p> + “You might tell me something of your life while you are dressing,” he + suggested, kindly. + </p> + <p> + I do not think I told him much of my life story either then or later. The + talk of the select little party with which he made me dine was extremely + animated and embraced most subjects under heaven, from big-game shooting + in Africa to the last poem published in a very modernist review, edited by + the very young and patronized by the highest society. But it never touched + upon “Almayer's Folly,” and next morning, in uninterrupted obscurity, this + inseparable companion went on rolling with me in the southeast direction + toward the government of Kiev. + </p> + <p> + At that time there was an eight hours' drive, if not more, from the + railway station to the country-house which was my destination. + </p> + <p> + “Dear boy” (these words were always written in English), so ran the last + letter from that house received in London—“Get yourself driven to + the only inn in the place, dine as well as you can, and some time in the + evening my own confidential servant, factotum and majordomo, a Mr. V. S. + (I warn you he is of noble extraction), will present himself before you, + reporting the arrival of the small sledge which will take you here on the + next day. I send with him my heaviest fur, which I suppose with such + overcoats as you may have with you will keep you from freezing on the + road.” + </p> + <p> + Sure enough, as I was dining, served by a Hebrew waiter, in an enormous + barn-like bedroom with a freshly painted floor, the door opened and, in a + travelling costume of long boots, big sheepskin cap, and a short coat girt + with a leather belt, the Mr. V. S. (of noble extraction), a man of about + thirty-five, appeared with an air of perplexity on his open and mustached + countenance. I got up from the table and greeted him in Polish, with, I + hope, the right shade of consideration demanded by his noble blood and his + confidential position. His face cleared up in a wonderful way. It appeared + that, notwithstanding my uncle's earnest assurances, the good fellow had + remained in doubt of our understanding each other. He imagined I would + talk to him in some foreign language. + </p> + <p> + I was told that his last words on getting into the sledge to come to meet + me shaped an anxious exclamation: + </p> + <p> + “Well! Well! Here I am going, but God only knows how I am to make myself + understood to our master's nephew.” + </p> + <p> + We understood each other very well from the first. He took charge of me as + if I were not quite of age. I had a delightful boyish feeling of coming + home from school when he muffled me up next morning in an enormous + bearskin travelling-coat and took his seat protectively by my side. The + sledge was a very small one, and it looked utterly insignificant, almost + like a toy behind the four big bays harnessed two and two. We three, + counting the coachman, filled it completely. He was a young fellow with + clear blue eyes; the high collar of his livery fur coat framed his cheery + countenance and stood all round level with the top of his head. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Joseph,” my companion addressed him, “do you think we shall manage + to get home before six?” His answer was that we would surely, with God's + help, and providing there were no heavy drifts in the long stretch between + certain villages whose names came with an extremely familiar sound to my + ears. He turned out an excellent coachman, with an instinct for keeping + the road among the snow-covered fields and a natural gift of getting the + best out of his horses. + </p> + <p> + “He is the son of that Joseph that I suppose the Captain remembers. He who + used to drive the Captain's late grandmother of holy memory,” remarked V. + S., busy tucking fur rugs about my feet. + </p> + <p> + I remembered perfectly the trusty Joseph who used to drive my grandmother. + Why! he it was who let me hold the reins for the first time in my life and + allowed me to play with the great four-in-hand whip outside the doors of + the coach-house. + </p> + <p> + “What became of him?” I asked. “He is no longer serving, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “He served our master,” was the reply. “But he died of cholera ten years + ago now—that great epidemic that we had. And his wife died at the + same time—the whole houseful of them, and this is the only boy that + was left.” + </p> + <p> + The MS. of “Almayer's Folly” was reposing in the bag under our feet. + </p> + <p> + I saw again the sun setting on the plains as I saw it in the travels of my + childhood. It set, clear and red, dipping into the snow in full view as if + it were setting on the sea. It was twenty-three years since I had seen the + sun set over that land; and we drove on in the darkness which fell swiftly + upon the livid expanse of snows till, out of the waste of a white earth + joining a bestarred sky, surged up black shapes, the clumps of trees about + a village of the Ukrainian plain. A cottage or two glided by, a low + interminable wall, and then, glimmering and winking through a screen of + fir-trees, the lights of the master's house. + </p> + <p> + That very evening the wandering MS. of “Almayer's Folly” was unpacked and + unostentatiously laid on the writing-table in my room, the guest-room + which had been, I was informed in an affectionately careless tone, + awaiting me for some fifteen years or so. It attracted no attention from + the affectionate presence hovering round the son of the favourite sister. + </p> + <p> + “You won't have many hours to yourself while you are staying with me, + brother,” he said—this form of address borrowed from the speech of + our peasants being the usual expression of the highest good humour in a + moment of affectionate elation. “I shall be always coming in for a chat.” + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, we had the whole house to chat in, and were + everlastingly intruding upon each other. I invaded the retirement of his + study where the principal feature was a colossal silver inkstand presented + to him on his fiftieth year by a subscription of all his wards then + living. He had been guardian of many orphans of land-owning families from + the three southern provinces—ever since the year 1860. Some of them + had been my school fellows and playmates, but not one of them, girls or + boys, that I know of has ever written a novel. One or two were older than + myself—considerably older, too. One of them, a visitor I remember in + my early years, was the man who first put me on horseback, and his + four-horse bachelor turnout, his perfect horsemanship and general skill in + manly exercises, was one of my earliest admirations. I seem to remember my + mother looking on from a colonnade in front of the dining-room windows as + I was lifted upon the pony, held, for all I know, by the very Joseph—the + groom attached specially to my grandmother's service—who died of + cholera. It was certainly a young man in a dark-blue, tailless coat and + huge Cossack trousers, that being the livery of the men about the stables. + It must have been in 1864, but reckoning by another mode of calculating + time, it was certainly in the year in which my mother obtained permission + to travel south and visit her family, from the exile into which she had + followed my father. For that, too, she had had to ask permission, and I + know that one of the conditions of that favour was that she should be + treated exactly as a condemned exile herself. Yet a couple of years later, + in memory of her eldest brother, who had served in the Guards and dying + early left hosts of friends and a loved memory in the great world of St. + Petersburg, some influential personages procured for her this permission—it + was officially called the “Highest Grace”—of a four months' leave + from exile. + </p> + <p> + This is also the year in which I first begin to remember my mother with + more distinctness than a mere loving, wide-browed, silent, protecting + presence, whose eyes had a sort of commanding sweetness; and I also + remember the great gathering of all the relations from near and far, and + the gray heads of the family friends paying her the homage of respect and + love in the house of her favourite brother, who, a few years later, was to + take the place for me of both my parents. + </p> + <p> + I did not understand the tragic significance of it all at the time, + though, indeed, I remember that doctors also came. There were no signs of + invalidism about her—but I think that already they had pronounced + her doom unless perhaps the change to a southern climate could + re-establish her declining strength. For me it seems the very happiest + period of my existence. There was my cousin, a delightful, quick-tempered + little girl, some months younger than myself, whose life, lovingly watched + over as if she were a royal princess, came to an end with her fifteenth + year. There were other children, too, many of whom are dead now, and not a + few whose very names I have forgotten. Over all this hung the oppressive + shadow of the great Russian empire—the shadow lowering with the + darkness of a new-born national hatred fostered by the Moscow school of + journalists against the Poles after the ill-omened rising of 1863. + </p> + <p> + This is a far cry back from the MS. of “Almayer's Folly,” but the public + record of these formative impressions is not the whim of an uneasy + egotism. These, too, are things human, already distant in their appeal. It + is meet that something more should be left for the novelist's children + than the colours and figures of his own hard-won creation. That which in + their grown-up years may appear to the world about them as the most + enigmatic side of their natures and perhaps must remain forever obscure + even to themselves, will be their unconscious response to the still voice + of that inexorable past from which his work of fiction and their + personalities are remotely derived. + </p> + <p> + Only in men's imagination does every truth find an effective and + undeniable existence. Imagination, not invention, is the supreme master of + art as of life. An imaginative and exact rendering of authentic memories + may serve worthily that spirit of piety toward all things human which + sanctions the conceptions of a writer of tales, and the emotions of the + man reviewing his own experience. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + As I have said, I was unpacking my luggage after a journey from London + into Ukraine. The MS. of “Almayer's Folly”—my companion already for + some three years or more, and then in the ninth chapter of its age—was + deposited unostentatiously on the writing-table placed between two + windows. It didn't occur to me to put it away in the drawer the table was + fitted with, but my eye was attracted by the good form of the same + drawer's brass handles. Two candelabra, with four candles each, lighted up + festally the room which had waited so many years for the wandering nephew. + The blinds were down. + </p> + <p> + Within five hundred yards of the chair on which I sat stood the first + peasant hut of the village—part of my maternal grandfather's estate, + the only part remaining in the possession of a member of the family; and + beyond the village in the limitless blackness of a winter's night there + lay the great unfenced fields—not a flat and severe plain, but a + kindly bread-giving land of low rounded ridges, all white now, with the + black patches of timber nestling in the hollows. The road by which I had + come ran through the village with a turn just outside the gates closing + the short drive. Somebody was abroad on the deep snow track; a quick + tinkle of bells stole gradually into the stillness of the room like a + tuneful whisper. + </p> + <p> + My unpacking had been watched over by the servant who had come to help me, + and, for the most part, had been standing attentive but unnecessary at the + door of the room. I did not want him in the least, but I did not like to + tell him to go away. He was a young fellow, certainly more than ten years + younger than myself; I had not been—I won't say in that place, but + within sixty miles of it, ever since the year '67; yet his guileless + physiognomy of the open peasant type seemed strangely familiar. It was + quite possible that he might have been a descendant, a son, or even a + grandson, of the servants whose friendly faces had been familiar to me in + my early childhood. As a matter of fact he had no such claim on my + consideration. He was the product of some village nearby and was there on + his promotion, having learned the service in one or two houses as pantry + boy. I know this because I asked the worthy V—— next day. I + might well have spared the question. I discovered before long that all the + faces about the house and all the faces in the village: the grave faces + with long mustaches of the heads of families, the downy faces of the young + men, the faces of the little fair-haired children, the handsome, tanned, + wide-browed faces of the mothers seen at the doors of the huts, were as + familiar to me as though I had known them all from childhood and my + childhood were a matter of the day before yesterday. + </p> + <p> + The tinkle of the traveller's bells, after growing louder, had faded away + quickly, and the tumult of barking dogs in the village had calmed down at + last. My uncle, lounging in the corner of a small couch, smoked his long + Turkish chibouk in silence. + </p> + <p> + “This is an extremely nice writing-table you have got for my room,” I + remarked. + </p> + <p> + “It is really your property,” he said, keeping his eyes on me, with an + interested and wistful expression, as he had done ever since I had entered + the house. “Forty years ago your mother used to write at this very table. + In our house in Oratow, it stood in the little sitting-room which, by a + tacit arrangement, was given up to the girls—I mean to your mother + and her sister who died so young. It was a present to them jointly from + your uncle Nicholas B. when your mother was seventeen and your aunt two + years younger. She was a very dear, delightful girl, that aunt of yours, + of whom I suppose you know nothing more than the name. She did not shine + so much by personal beauty and a cultivated mind in which your mother was + far superior. It was her good sense, the admirable sweetness of her + nature, her exceptional facility and ease in daily relations, that + endeared her to everybody. Her death was a terrible grief and a serious + moral loss for us all. Had she lived she would have brought the greatest + blessings to the house it would have been her lot to enter, as wife, + mother, and mistress of a household. She would have created round herself + an atmosphere of peace and content which only those who can love + unselfishly are able to evoke. Your mother—of far greater beauty, + exceptionally distinguished in person, manner, and intellect—had a + less easy disposition. Being more brilliantly gifted, she also expected + more from life. At that trying time especially, we were greatly concerned + about her state. Suffering in her health from the shock of her father's + death (she was alone in the house with him when he died suddenly), she was + torn by the inward struggle between her love for the man whom she was to + marry in the end and her knowledge of her dead father's declared objection + to that match. Unable to bring herself to disregard that cherished memory + and that judgment she had always respected and trusted, and, on the other + hand, feeling the impossibility to resist a sentiment so deep and so true, + she could not have been expected to preserve her mental and moral balance. + At war with herself, she could not give to others that feeling of peace + which was not her own. It was only later, when united at last with the man + of her choice, that she developed those uncommon gifts of mind and heart + which compelled the respect and admiration even of our foes. Meeting with + calm fortitude the cruel trials of a life reflecting all the national and + social misfortunes of the community, she realized the highest conceptions + of duty as a wife, a mother, and a patriot, sharing the exile of her + husband and representing nobly the ideal of Polish womanhood. Our uncle + Nicholas was not a man very accessible to feelings of affection. Apart + from his worship for Napoleon the Great, he loved really, I believe, only + three people in the world: his mother—your great-grandmother, whom + you have seen but cannot possibly remember; his brother, our father, in + whose house he lived for so many years; and of all of us, his nephews and + nieces grown up around him, your mother alone. The modest, lovable + qualities of the youngest sister he did not seem able to see. It was I who + felt most profoundly this unexpected stroke of death falling upon the + family less than a year after I had become its head. It was terribly + unexpected. Driving home one wintry afternoon to keep me company in our + empty house, where I had to remain permanently administering the estate + and at tending to the complicated affairs—(the girls took it in turn + week and week about)—driving, as I said, from the house of the + Countess Tekla Potocka, where our invalid mother was staying then to be + near a doctor, they lost the road and got stuck in a snow drift. She was + alone with the coachman and old Valery, the personal servant of our late + father. Impatient of delay while they were trying to dig themselves out, + she jumped out of the sledge and went to look for the road herself. All + this happened in '51, not ten miles from the house in which we are sitting + now. + </p> + <p> + “The road was soon found, but snow had begun to fall thickly again, and + they were four more hours getting home. Both the men took off their + sheepskin lined greatcoats and used all their own rugs to wrap her up + against the cold, notwithstanding her protests, positive orders, and even + struggles, as Valery afterward related to me. 'How could I,' he + remonstrated with her, 'go to meet the blessed soul of my late master if I + let any harm come to you while there's a spark of life left in my body?' + When they reached home at last the poor old man was stiff and speechless + from exposure, and the coachman was in not much better plight, though he + had the strength to drive round to the stables himself. To my reproaches + for venturing out at all in such weather, she answered, + characteristically, that she could not bear the thought of abandoning me + to my cheerless solitude. It is incomprehensible how it was that she was + allowed to start. I suppose it had to be! She made light of the cough + which came on next day, but shortly afterward inflammation of the lungs + set in, and in three weeks she was no more! She was the first to be taken + away of the young generation under my care. Behold the vanity of all hopes + and fears! I was the most frail at birth of all the children. For years I + remained so delicate that my parents had but little hope of bringing me + up; and yet I have survived five brothers and two sisters, and many of my + contemporaries; I have outlived my wife and daughter, too—and from + all those who have had some knowledge at least of these old times you + alone are left. It has been my lot to lay in an early grave many honest + hearts, many brilliant promises, many hopes full of life.” + </p> + <p> + He got up briskly, sighed, and left me saying, “We will dine in half an + hour.” + </p> + <p> + Without moving, I listened to his quick steps resounding on the waxed + floor of the next room, traversing the anteroom lined with bookshelves, + where he paused to put his chibouk in the pipe-stand before passing into + the drawing-room (these were all en suite), where he became inaudible on + the thick carpet. But I heard the door of his study-bedroom close. He was + then sixty-two years old and had been for a quarter of a century the + wisest, the firmest, the most indulgent of guardians, extending over me a + paternal care and affection, a moral support which I seemed to feel always + near me in the most distant parts of the earth. + </p> + <p> + As to Mr. Nicholas B., sub-lieutenant of 1808, lieutenant of 1813 in the + French army, and for a short time <i>Officier d'Ordonnance</i> of Marshal + Marmont; afterward captain in the 2d Regiment of Mounted Rifles in the + Polish army—such as it existed up to 1830 in the reduced kingdom + established by the Congress of Vienna—I must say that from all that + more distant past, known to me traditionally and a little <i>de visu</i>, + and called out by the words of the man just gone away, he remains the most + incomplete figure. It is obvious that I must have seen him in '64, for it + is certain that he would not have missed the opportunity of seeing my + mother for what he must have known would be the last time. From my early + boyhood to this day, if I try to call up his image, a sort of mist rises + before my eyes, mist in which I perceive vaguely only a neatly brushed + head of white hair (which is exceptional in the case of the B. family, + where it is the rule for men to go bald in a becoming manner before + thirty) and a thin, curved, dignified nose, a feature in strict accordance + with the physical tradition of the B. family. But it is not by these + fragmentary remains of perishable mortality that he lives in my memory. I + knew, at a very early age, that my granduncle Nicholas B. was a Knight of + the Legion of Honour and that he had also the Polish Cross for <i>valour + Virtuti Militari</i>. The knowledge of these glorious facts inspired in me + an admiring veneration; yet it is not that sentiment, strong as it was, + which resumes for me the force and the significance of his personality. It + is overborne by another and complex impression of awe, compassion, and + horror. Mr. Nicholas B. remains for me the unfortunate and miserable (but + heroic) being who once upon a time had eaten a dog. + </p> + <p> + It is a good forty years since I heard the tale, and the effect has not + worn off yet. I believe this is the very first, say, realistic, story I + heard in my life; but all the same I don't know why I should have been so + frightfully impressed. Of course I know what our village dogs look like—but + still. . . . No! At this very day, recalling the horror and compassion of + my childhood, I ask myself whether I am right in disclosing to a cold and + fastidious world that awful episode in the family history. I ask myself—is + it right?—especially as the B. family had always been honourably + known in a wide countryside for the delicacy of their tastes in the matter + of eating and drinking. But upon the whole, and considering that this + gastronomical degradation overtaking a gallant young officer lies really + at the door of the Great Napoleon, I think that to cover it up by silence + would be an exaggeration of literary restraint. Let the truth stand here. + The responsibility rests with the Man of St. Helena in view of his + deplorable levity in the conduct of the Russian campaign. It was during + the memorable retreat from Moscow that Mr. Nicholas B., in company of two + brother officers—as to whose morality and natural refinement I know + nothing—bagged a dog on the outskirts of a village and subsequently + devoured him. As far as I can remember the weapon used was a cavalry + sabre, and the issue of the sporting episode was rather more of a matter + of life and death than if it had been an encounter with a tiger. A picket + of Cossacks was sleeping in that village lost in the depths of the great + Lithuanian forest. The three sportsmen had observed them from a + hiding-place making themselves very much at home among the huts just + before the early winter darkness set in at four o'clock. They had observed + them with disgust and, perhaps, with despair. Late in the night the rash + counsels of hunger overcame the dictates of prudence. Crawling through the + snow they crept up to the fence of dry branches which generally encloses a + village in that part of Lithuania. What they expected to get and in what + manner, and whether this expectation was worth the risk, goodness only + knows. + </p> + <p> + However, these Cossack parties, in most cases wandering without an + officer, were known to guard themselves badly and often not at all. In + addition, the village lying at a great distance from the line of French + retreat, they could not suspect the presence of stragglers from the Grand + Army. The three officers had strayed away in a blizzard from the main + column and had been lost for days in the woods, which explains + sufficiently the terrible straits to which they were reduced. Their plan + was to try and attract the attention of the peasants in that one of the + huts which was nearest to the enclosure; but as they were preparing to + venture into the very jaws of the lion, so to speak, a dog (it is mighty + strange that there was but one), a creature quite as formidable under the + circumstances as a lion, began to bark on the other side of the fence. . . + . + </p> + <p> + At this stage of the narrative, which I heard many times (by request) from + the lips of Captain Nicholas B.'s sister-in-law, my grandmother, I used to + tremble with excitement. + </p> + <p> + The dog barked. And if he had done no more than bark, three officers of + the Great Napoleon's army would have perished honourably on the points of + Cossacks' lances, or perchance escaping the chase would have died decently + of starvation. But before they had time to think of running away that + fatal and revolting dog, being carried away by the excess of the zeal, + dashed out through a gap in the fence. He dashed out and died. His head, I + understand, was severed at one blow from his body. I understand also that + later on, within the gloomy solitudes of the snow-laden woods, when, in a + sheltering hollow, a fire had been lit by the party, the condition of the + quarry was discovered to be distinctly unsatisfactory. It was not thin—on + the contrary, it seemed unhealthily obese; its skin showed bare patches of + an unpleasant character. However, they had not killed that dog for the + sake of the pelt. He was large. . . . He was eaten. . . . The rest is + silence. . . . + </p> + <p> + A silence in which a small boy shudders and says firmly: + </p> + <p> + “I could not have eaten that dog.” + </p> + <p> + And his grandmother remarks with a smile: + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you don't know what it is to be hungry.” + </p> + <p> + I have learned something of it since. Not that I have been reduced to eat + dog. I have fed on the emblematical animal, which, in the language of the + volatile Gauls, is called la vache enragee; I have lived on ancient salt + junk, I know the taste of shark, of trepang, of snake, of nondescript + dishes containing things without a name—but of the Lithuanian + village dog—never! I wish it to be distinctly understood that it is + not I, but my granduncle Nicholas, of the Polish landed gentry, Chevalier + de la Legion d'Honneur, etc., who in his young days, had eaten the + Lithuanian dog. + </p> + <p> + I wish he had not. The childish horror of the deed clings absurdly to the + grizzled man. I am perfectly helpless against it. Still, if he really had + to, let us charitably remember that he had eaten him on active service, + while bearing up bravely against the greatest military disaster of modern + history, and, in a manner, for the sake of his country. He had eaten him + to appease his hunger, no doubt, but also for the sake of an unappeasable + and patriotic desire, in the glow of a great faith that lives still, and + in the pursuit of a great illusion kindled like a false beacon by a great + man to lead astray the effort of a brave nation. + </p> + <p> + <i>Pro patria!</i> + </p> + <p> + Looked at in that light, it appears a sweet and decorous meal. + </p> + <p> + And looked at in the same light, my own diet of la vache enragee appears a + fatuous and extravagant form of self-indulgence; for why should I, the son + of a land which such men as these have turned up with their plowshares and + bedewed with their blood, undertake the pursuit of fantastic meals of salt + junk and hardtack upon the wide seas? On the kindest view it seems an + unanswerable question. Alas! I have the conviction that there are men of + unstained rectitude who are ready to murmur scornfully the word desertion. + Thus the taste of innocent adventure may be made bitter to the palate. The + part of the inexplicable should be allowed for in appraising the conduct + of men in a world where no explanation is final. No charge of + faithlessness ought to be lightly uttered. The appearances of this + perishable life are deceptive, like everything that falls under the + judgment of our imperfect senses. The inner voice may remain true enough + in its secret counsel. The fidelity to a special tradition may last + through the events of an unrelated existence, following faithfully, too, + the traced way of an inexplicable impulse. + </p> + <p> + It would take too long to explain the intimate alliance of contradictions + in human nature which makes love itself wear at times the desperate shape + of betrayal. And perhaps there is no possible explanation. Indulgence—as + somebody said—is the most intelligent of all the virtues. I venture + to think that it is one of the least common, if not the most uncommon of + all. I would not imply by this that men are foolish—or even most + men. Far from it. The barber and the priest, backed by the whole opinion + of the village, condemned justly the conduct of the ingenious hidalgo, + who, sallying forth from his native place, broke the head of the muleteer, + put to death a flock of inoffensive sheep, and went through very doleful + experiences in a certain stable. God forbid that an unworthy churl should + escape merited censure by hanging on to the stirrup-leather of the sublime + caballero. His was a very noble, a very unselfish fantasy, fit for nothing + except to raise the envy of baser mortals. But there is more than one + aspect to the charm of that exalted and dangerous figure. He, too, had his + frailties. After reading so many romances he desired naively to escape + with his very body from the intolerable reality of things. He wished to + meet, eye to eye, the valorous giant Brandabarbaran, Lord of Arabia, whose + armour is made of the skin of a dragon, and whose shield, strapped to his + arm, is the gate of a fortified city. Oh, amiable and natural weakness! + Oh, blessed simplicity of a gentle heart without guile! Who would not + succumb to such a consoling temptation? Nevertheless, it was a form of + self-indulgence, and the ingenious hidalgo of La Mancha was not a good + citizen. The priest and the barber were not unreasonable in their + strictures. Without going so far as the old King Louis-Philippe, who used + to say in his exile, “The people are never in fault”—one may admit + that there must be some righteousness in the assent of a whole village. + Mad! Mad! He who kept in pious meditation the ritual vigil-of-arms by the + well of an inn and knelt reverently to be knighted at daybreak by the fat, + sly rogue of a landlord has come very near perfection. He rides forth, his + head encircled by a halo—the patron saint of all lives spoiled or + saved by the irresistible grace of imagination. But he was not a good + citizen. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps that and nothing else was meant by the well-remembered exclamation + of my tutor. + </p> + <p> + It was in the jolly year 1873, the very last year in which I have had a + jolly holiday. There have been idle years afterward, jolly enough in a way + and not altogether without their lesson, but this year of which I speak + was the year of my last school-boy holiday. There are other reasons why I + should remember that year, but they are too long to state formally in this + place. Moreover, they have nothing to do with that holiday. What has to do + with the holiday is that before the day on which the remark was made we + had seen Vienna, the Upper Danube, Munich, the Falls of the Rhine, the + Lake of Constance,—in fact, it was a memorable holiday of travel. Of + late we had been tramping slowly up the Valley of the Reuss. It was a + delightful time. It was much more like a stroll than a tramp. Landing from + a Lake of Lucerne steamer in Fluelen, we found ourselves at the end of the + second day, with the dusk overtaking our leisurely footsteps, a little way + beyond Hospenthal. This is not the day on which the remark was made: in + the shadows of the deep valley and with the habitations of men left some + way behind, our thoughts ran not upon the ethics of conduct, but upon the + simpler human problem of shelter and food. There did not seem anything of + the kind in sight, and we were thinking of turning back when suddenly, at + a bend of the road, we came upon a building, ghostly in the twilight. + </p> + <p> + At that time the work on the St. Gothard Tunnel was going on, and that + magnificent enterprise of burrowing was directly responsible for the + unexpected building, standing all alone upon the very roots of the + mountains. It was long, though not big at all; it was low; it was built of + boards, without ornamentation, in barrack-hut style, with the white + window-frames quite flush with the yellow face of its plain front. And yet + it was a hotel; it had even a name, which I have forgotten. But there was + no gold laced doorkeeper at its humble door. A plain but vigorous + servant-girl answered our inquiries, then a man and woman who owned the + place appeared. It was clear that no travellers were expected, or perhaps + even desired, in this strange hostelry, which in its severe style + resembled the house which sur mounts the unseaworthy-looking hulls of the + toy Noah's Arks, the universal possession of European childhood. However, + its roof was not hinged and it was not full to the brim of slab-sided and + painted animals of wood. Even the live tourist animal was nowhere in + evidence. We had something to eat in a long, narrow room at one end of a + long, narrow table, which, to my tired perception and to my sleepy eyes, + seemed as if it would tilt up like a see saw plank, since there was no one + at the other end to balance it against our two dusty and travel-stained + figures. Then we hastened up stairs to bed in a room smelling of pine + planks, and I was fast asleep before my head touched the pillow. + </p> + <p> + In the morning my tutor (he was a student of the Cracow University) woke + me up early, and as we were dressing remarked: “There seems to be a lot of + people staying in this hotel. I have heard a noise of talking up till + eleven o'clock.” This statement surprised me; I had heard no noise + whatever, having slept like a top. + </p> + <p> + We went down-stairs into the long and narrow dining-room with its long and + narrow table. There were two rows of plates on it. At one of the many + curtained windows stood a tall, bony man with a bald head set off by a + bunch of black hair above each ear, and with a long, black beard. He + glanced up from the paper he was reading and seemed genuinely astonished + at our intrusion. By and by more men came in. Not one of them looked like + a tourist. Not a single woman appeared. These men seemed to know each + other with some intimacy, but I cannot say they were a very talkative lot. + The bald-headed man sat down gravely at the head of the table. It all had + the air of a family party. By and by, from one of the vigorous + servant-girls in national costume, we discovered that the place was really + a boarding house for some English engineers engaged at the works of the + St. Gothard Tunnel; and I could listen my fill to the sounds of the + English language, as far as it is used at a breakfast-table by men who do + not believe in wasting many words on the mere amenities of life. + </p> + <p> + This was my first contact with British mankind apart from the tourist kind + seen in the hotels of Zurich and Lucerne—the kind which has no real + existence in a workaday world. I know now that the bald-headed man spoke + with a strong Scotch accent. I have met many of his kind ashore and + afloat. The second engineer of the steamer Mavis, for instance, ought to + have been his twin brother. I cannot help thinking that he really was, + though for some reason of his own he assured me that he never had a twin + brother. Anyway, the deliberate, bald-headed Scot with the coal-black + beard appeared to my boyish eyes a very romantic and mysterious person. + </p> + <p> + We slipped out unnoticed. Our mapped-out route led over the Furca Pass + toward the Rhone Glacier, with the further intention of following down the + trend of the Hasli Valley. The sun was already declining when we found + ourselves on the top of the pass, and the remark alluded to was presently + uttered. + </p> + <p> + We sat down by the side of the road to continue the argument begun half a + mile or so before. I am certain it was an argument, because I remember + perfectly how my tutor argued and how without the power of reply I + listened, with my eyes fixed obstinately on the ground. A stir on the road + made me look up—and then I saw my unforgettable Englishman. There + are acquaintances of later years, familiars, shipmates, whom I remember + less clearly. He marched rapidly toward the east (attended by a hang-dog + Swiss guide), with the mien of an ardent and fearless traveller. He was + clad in a knickerbocker suit, but as at the same time he wore short socks + under his laced boots, for reasons which, whether hygienic or + conscientious, were surely imaginative, his calves, exposed to the public + gaze and to the tonic air of high altitudes, dazzled the beholder by the + splendour of their marble-like condition and their rich tone of young + ivory. He was the leader of a small caravan. The light of a headlong, + exalted satisfaction with the world of men and the scenery of mountains + illumined his clean-cut, very red face, his short, silver-white whiskers, + his innocently eager and triumphant eyes. In passing he cast a glance of + kindly curiosity and a friendly gleam of big, sound, shiny teeth toward + the man and the boy sitting like dusty tramps by the roadside, with a + modest knapsack lying at their feet. His white calves twinkled sturdily, + the uncouth Swiss guide with a surly mouth stalked like an unwilling bear + at his elbow; a small train of three mules followed in single file the + lead of this inspiring enthusiast. Two ladies rode past, one behind the + other, but from the way they sat I saw only their calm, uniform backs, and + the long ends of blue veils hanging behind far down over their identical + hat-brims. His two daughters, surely. An industrious luggage-mule, with + unstarched ears and guarded by a slouching, sallow driver, brought up the + rear. My tutor, after pausing for a look and a faint smile, resumed his + earnest argument. + </p> + <p> + I tell you it was a memorable year! One does not meet such an Englishman + twice in a lifetime. Was he in the mystic ordering of common events the + ambassador of my future, sent out to turn the scale at a critical moment + on the top of an Alpine pass, with the peaks of the Bernese Oberland for + mute and solemn witnesses? His glance, his smile, the unextinguishable and + comic ardour of his striving-forward appearance, helped me to pull myself + together. It must be stated that on that day and in the exhilarating + atmosphere of that elevated spot I had been feeling utterly crushed. It + was the year in which I had first spoken aloud of my desire to go to sea. + At first like those sounds that, ranging outside the scale to which men's + ears are attuned, remain inaudible to our sense of hearing, this + declaration passed unperceived. It was as if it had not been. Later on, by + trying various tones, I managed to arouse here and there a surprised + momentary attention—the “What was that funny noise?”—sort of + inquiry. Later on it was: “Did you hear what that boy said? What an + extraordinary outbreak!” Presently a wave of scandalized astonishment (it + could not have been greater if I had announced the intention of entering a + Carthusian monastery) ebbing out of the educational and academical town of + Cracow spread itself over several provinces. It spread itself shallow but + far-reaching. It stirred up a mass of remonstrance, indignation, pitying + wonder, bitter irony, and downright chaff. I could hardly breathe under + its weight, and certainly had no words for an answer. People wondered what + Mr. T. B. would do now with his worrying nephew and, I dare say, hoped + kindly that he would make short work of my nonsense. + </p> + <p> + What he did was to come down all the way from Ukraine to have it out with + me and to judge by himself, unprejudiced, impartial, and just, taking his + stand on the ground of wisdom and affection. As far as is possible for a + boy whose power of expression is still unformed I opened the secret of my + thoughts to him, and he in return allowed me a glimpse into his mind and + heart; the first glimpse of an inexhaustible and noble treasure of clear + thought and warm feeling, which through life was to be mine to draw upon + with a never-deceived love and confidence. Practically, after several + exhaustive conversations, he concluded that he would not have me later on + reproach him for having spoiled my life by an unconditional opposition. + But I must take time for serious reflection. And I must think not only of + myself but of others; weigh the claims of affection and conscience against + my own sincerity of purpose. “Think well what it all means in the larger + issues—my boy,” he exhorted me, finally, with special friendliness. + “And meantime try to get the best place you can at the yearly + examinations.” + </p> + <p> + The scholastic year came to an end. I took a fairly good place at the + exams, which for me (for certain reasons) happened to be a more difficult + task than for other boys. In that respect I could enter with a good + conscience upon that holiday which was like a long visit <i>pour prendre + conge</i> of the mainland of old Europe I was to see so little of for the + next four-and-twenty years. Such, however, was not the avowed purpose of + that tour. It was rather, I suspect, planned in order to distract and + occupy my thoughts in other directions. Nothing had been said for months + of my going to sea. But my attachment to my young tutor and his influence + over me were so well known that he must have received a confidential + mission to talk me out of my romantic folly. It was an excellently + appropriate arrangement, as neither he nor I had ever had a single glimpse + of the sea in our lives. That was to come by and by for both of us in + Venice, from the outer shore of Lido. Meantime he had taken his mission to + heart so well that I began to feel crushed before we reached Zurich. He + argued in railway trains, in lake steamboats, he had argued away for me + the obligatory sunrise on the Righi, by Jove! Of his devotion to his + unworthy pupil there can be no doubt. He had proved it already by two + years of unremitting and arduous care. I could not hate him. But he had + been crushing me slowly, and when he started to argue on the top of the + Furca Pass he was perhaps nearer a success than either he or I imagined. I + listened to him in despairing silence, feeling that ghostly, unrealized, + and desired sea of my dreams escape from the unnerved grip of my will. + </p> + <p> + The enthusiastic old Englishman had passed—and the argument went on. + What reward could I expect from such a life at the end of my years, either + in ambition, honour, or conscience? An unanswerable question. But I felt + no longer crushed. Then our eyes met and a genuine emotion was visible in + his as well as in mine. The end came all at once. He picked up the + knapsack suddenly and got onto his feet. + </p> + <p> + “You are an incorrigible, hopeless Don Quixote. That's what you are.” + </p> + <p> + I was surprised. I was only fifteen and did not know what he meant + exactly. But I felt vaguely flattered at the name of the immortal knight + turning up in connection with my own folly, as some people would call it + to my face. Alas! I don't think there was anything to be proud of. Mine + was not the stuff of protectors of forlorn damsels, the redressers of this + world's wrong are made of; and my tutor was the man to know that best. + Therein, in his indignation, he was superior to the barber and the priest + when he flung at me an honoured name like a reproach. + </p> + <p> + I walked behind him for full five minutes; then without looking back he + stopped. The shadows of distant peaks were lengthening over the Furca + Pass. When I came up to him he turned to me and in full view of the + Finster Aarhorn, with his band of giant brothers rearing their monstrous + heads against a brilliant sky, put his hand on my shoulder affectionately. + </p> + <p> + “Well! That's enough. We will have no more of it.” + </p> + <p> + And indeed there was no more question of my mysterious vocation between + us. There was to be no more question of it at all, no where or with any + one. We began the descent of the Furca Pass conversing merrily. + </p> + <p> + Eleven years later, month for month, I stood on Tower Hill on the steps of + the St. Katherine's Dockhouse, a master in the British Merchant Service. + But the man who put his hand on my shoulder at the top of the Furca Pass + was no longer living. + </p> + <p> + That very year of our travels he took his degree of the Philosophical + Faculty—and only then his true vocation declared itself. Obedient to + the call, he entered at once upon the four-year course of the Medical + Schools. A day came when, on the deck of a ship moored in Calcutta, I + opened a letter telling me of the end of an enviable existence. He had + made for himself a practice in some obscure little town of Austrian + Galicia. And the letter went on to tell me how all the bereaved poor of + the district, Christians and Jews alike, had mobbed the good doctor's + coffin with sobs and lamentations at the very gate of the cemetery. + </p> + <p> + How short his years and how clear his vision! What greater reward in + ambition, honour, and conscience could he have hoped to win for himself + when, on the top of the Furca Pass, he bade me look well to the end of my + opening life? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + The devouring in a dismal forest of a luckless Lithuanian dog by my + granduncle Nicholas B. in company of two other military and famished + scarecrows, symbolized, to my childish imagination, the whole horror of + the retreat from Moscow, and the immorality of a conqueror's ambition. An + extreme distaste for that objectionable episode has tinged the views I + hold as to the character and achievements of Napoleon the Great. I need + not say that these are unfavourable. It was morally reprehensible for that + great captain to induce a simple-minded Polish gentleman to eat dog by + raising in his breast a false hope of national independence. It has been + the fate of that credulous nation to starve for upward of a hundred years + on a diet of false hopes and—well—dog. It is, when one thinks + of it, a singularly poisonous regimen. Some pride in the national + constitution which has survived a long course of such dishes is really + excusable. + </p> + <p> + But enough of generalizing. Returning to particulars, Mr. Nicholas B. + confided to his sister-in-law (my grandmother) in his misanthropically + laconic manner that this supper in the woods had been nearly “the death of + him.” This is not surprising. What surprises me is that the story was ever + heard of; for granduncle Nicholas differed in this from the generality of + military men of Napoleon's time (and perhaps of all time) that he did not + like to talk of his campaigns, which began at Friedland and ended some + wherein the neighbourhood of Bar-le-Duc. His admiration of the great + Emperor was unreserved in everything but expression. Like the religion of + earnest men, it was too profound a sentiment to be displayed before a + world of little faith. Apart from that he seemed as completely devoid of + military anecdotes as though he had hardly ever seen a soldier in his + life. Proud of his decorations earned before he was twenty-five, he + refused to wear the ribbons at the buttonhole in the manner practised to + this day in Europe and even was unwilling to display the insignia on + festive occasions, as though he wished to conceal them in the fear of + appearing boastful. + </p> + <p> + “It is enough that I have them,” he used to mutter. In the course of + thirty years they were seen on his breast only twice—at an + auspicious marriage in the family and at the funeral of an old friend. + That the wedding which was thus honoured was not the wedding of my mother + I learned only late in life, too late to bear a grudge against Mr. + Nicholas B., who made amends at my birth by a long letter of + congratulation containing the following prophecy: “He will see better + times.” Even in his embittered heart there lived a hope. But he was not a + true prophet. + </p> + <p> + He was a man of strange contradictions. Living for many years in his + brother's house, the home of many children, a house full of life, of + animation, noisy with a constant coming and going of many guests, he kept + his habits of solitude and silence. Considered as obstinately secretive in + all his purposes, he was in reality the victim of a most painful + irresolution in all matters of civil life. Under his taciturn, phlegmatic + behaviour was hidden a faculty of short-lived passionate anger. I suspect + he had no talent for narrative; but it seemed to afford him sombre + satisfaction to declare that he was the last man to ride over the bridge + of the river Elster after the battle of Leipsic. Lest some construction + favourable to his valour should be put on the fact he condescended to + explain how it came to pass. It seems that shortly after the retreat began + he was sent back to the town where some divisions of the French army (and + among them the Polish corps of Prince Joseph Poniatowski), jammed + hopelessly in the streets, were being simply exterminated by the troops of + the Allied Powers. When asked what it was like in there, Mr. Nicholas B. + muttered only the word “Shambles.” Having delivered his message to the + Prince he hastened away at once to render an account of his mission to the + superior who had sent him. By that time the advance of the enemy had + enveloped the town, and he was shot at from houses and chased all the way + to the river-bank by a disorderly mob of Austrian Dragoons and Prussian + Hussars. The bridge had been mined early in the morning, and his opinion + was that the sight of the horsemen converging from many sides in the + pursuit of his person alarmed the officer in command of the sappers and + caused the premature firing of the charges. He had not gone more than two + hundred yards on the other side when he heard the sound of the fatal + explosions. Mr. Nicholas B. concluded his bald narrative with the word + “Imbecile,” uttered with the utmost deliberation. It testified to his + indignation at the loss of so many thousands of lives. But his phlegmatic + physiognomy lighted up when he spoke of his only wound, with something + resembling satisfaction. You will see that there was some reason for it + when you learn that he was wounded in the heel. “Like his Majesty the + Emperor Napoleon himself,” he reminded his hearers, with assumed + indifference. There can be no doubt that the indifference was assumed, if + one thinks what a very distinguished sort of wound it was. In all the + history of warfare there are, I believe, only three warriors publicly + known to have been wounded in the heel—Achilles and Napoleon—demigods + indeed—to whom the familial piety of an unworthy descendant adds the + name of the simple mortal, Nicholas B. + </p> + <p> + The Hundred Days found Mr. Nicholas B. staying with a distant relative of + ours, owner of a small estate in Galicia. How he got there across the + breadth of an armed Europe, and after what adventures, I am afraid will + never be known now. All his papers were destroyed shortly before his + death; but if there was among them, as he affirmed, a concise record of + his life, then I am pretty sure it did not take up more than a half sheet + of foolscap or so. This relative of ours happened to be an Austrian + officer who had left the service after the battle of Austerlitz. Unlike + Mr. Nicholas B., who concealed his decorations, he liked to display his + honourable discharge in which he was mentioned as un schreckbar (fearless) + before the enemy. No conjunction could seem more unpromising, yet it + stands in the family tradition that these two got on very well together in + their rural solitude. + </p> + <p> + When asked whether he had not been sorely tempted during the Hundred Days + to make his way again to France and join the service of his beloved + Emperor, Mr. Nicholas B. used to mutter: “No money. No horse. Too far to + walk.” + </p> + <p> + The fall of Napoleon and the ruin of national hopes affected adversely the + character of Mr. Nicholas B. He shrank from returning to his province. But + for that there was also another reason. Mr. Nicholas B. and his brother—my + maternal grand father—had lost their father early, while they were + quite children. Their mother, young still and left very well off, married + again a man of great charm and of an amiable disposition, but without a + penny. He turned out an affectionate and careful stepfather; it was + unfortunate, though, that while directing the boys' education and forming + their character by wise counsel, he did his best to get hold of the + fortune by buying and selling land in his own name and investing capital + in such a manner as to cover up the traces of the real ownership. It seems + that such practices can be successful if one is charming enough to dazzle + one's own wife permanently, and brave enough to defy the vain terrors of + public opinion. The critical time came when the elder of the boys on + attaining his majority, in the year 1811, asked for the accounts and some + part at least of the inheritance to begin life upon. It was then that the + stepfather declared with calm finality that there were no accounts to + render and no property to inherit. The whole fortune was his very own. He + was very good-natured about the young man's misapprehension of the true + state of affairs, but, of course, felt obliged to maintain his position + firmly. Old friends came and went busily, voluntary mediators appeared + travelling on most horrible roads from the most distant corners of the + three provinces; and the Marshal of the Nobility (ex-officio guardian of + all well-born orphans) called a meeting of landowners to “ascertain in a + friendly way how the misunderstanding between X and his stepsons had + arisen and devise proper measures to remove the same.” A deputation to + that effect visited X, who treated them to excellent wines, but absolutely + refused his ear to their remonstrances. As to the proposals for + arbitration he simply laughed at them; yet the whole province must have + been aware that fourteen years before, when he married the widow, all his + visible fortune consisted (apart from his social qualities) in a smart + four-horse turnout with two servants, with whom he went about visiting + from house to house; and as to any funds he might have possessed at that + time their existence could only be inferred from the fact that he was very + punctual in settling his modest losses at cards. But by the magic power of + stubborn and constant assertion, there were found presently, here and + there, people who mumbled that surely “there must be some thing in it.” + However, on his next name-day (which he used to celebrate by a great three + days' shooting party), of all the invited crowd only two guests turned up, + distant neighbours of no importance; one notoriously a fool, and the other + a very pious and honest person, but such a passionate lover of the gun + that on his own confession he could not have refused an invitation to a + shooting party from the devil himself. X met this manifestation of public + opinion with the serenity of an unstained conscience. He refused to be + crushed. Yet he must have been a man of deep feeling, because, when his + wife took openly the part of her children, he lost his beautiful + tranquillity, proclaimed himself heartbroken, and drove her out of the + house, neglecting in his grief to give her enough time to pack her trunks. + </p> + <p> + This was the beginning of a lawsuit, an abominable marvel of chicane, + which by the use of every legal subterfuge was made to last for many + years. It was also the occasion for a display of much kindness and + sympathy. All the neighbouring houses flew open for the reception of the + homeless. Neither legal aid nor material assistance in the prosecution of + the suit was ever wanting. X, on his side, went about shedding tears + publicly over his stepchildren's ingratitude and his wife's blind + infatuation; but as at the same time he displayed great cleverness in the + art of concealing material documents (he was even suspected of having + burned a lot of historically interesting family papers) this scandalous + litigation had to be ended by a compromise lest worse should befall. It + was settled finally by a surrender, out of the disputed estate, in full + satisfaction of all claims, of two villages with the names of which I do + not intend to trouble my readers. After this lame and impotent conclusion + neither the wife nor the stepsons had anything to say to the man who had + presented the world with such a successful example of self-help based on + character, determination, and industry; and my great-grandmother, her + health completely broken down, died a couple of years later in Carlsbad. + Legally secured by a decree in the possession of his plunder, X regained + his wonted serenity, and went on living in the neighbourhood in a + comfortable style and in apparent peace of mind. His big shoots were + fairly well attended again. He was never tired of assuring people that he + bore no grudge for what was past; he protested loudly of his constant + affection for his wife and stepchildren. It was true, he said, that they + had tried to strip him as naked as a Turkish saint in the decline of his + days; and because he had defended himself from spoliation, as anybody else + in his place would have done, they had abandoned him now to the horrors of + a solitary old age. Nevertheless, his love for them survived these cruel + blows. + </p> + <p> + And there might have been some truth in his protestations. Very soon he + began to make overtures of friendship to his eldest stepson, my maternal + grandfather; and when these were peremptorily rejected he went on renewing + them again and again with characteristic obstinacy. For years he persisted + in his efforts at reconciliation, promising my grandfather to execute a + will in his favour if he only would be friends again to the extent of + calling now and then (it was fairly close neighbourhood for these parts, + forty miles or so), or even of putting in an appearance for the great + shoot on the name-day. My grandfather was an ardent lover of every sport. + His temperament was as free from hardness and animosity as can be + imagined. Pupil of the liberal-minded Benedictines who directed the only + public school of some standing then in the south, he had also read deeply + the authors of the eighteenth century. In him Christian charity was joined + to a philosophical indulgence for the failings of human nature. But the + memory of those miserably anxious early years, his young man's years + robbed of all generous illusions by the cynicism of the sordid lawsuit, + stood in the way of forgiveness. He never succumbed to the fascination of + the great shoot; and X, his heart set to the last on reconciliation, with + the draft of the will ready for signature kept by his bedside, died + intestate. + </p> + <p> + The fortune thus acquired and augmented by a wise and careful management + passed to some distant relatives whom he had never seen and who even did + not bear his name. + </p> + <p> + Meantime the blessing of general peace descended upon Europe. Mr. Nicholas + B., bidding good-bye to his hospitable relative, the “fearless” Austrian + officer, departed from Galicia, and without going near his native place, + where the odious lawsuit was still going on, proceeded straight to Warsaw + and entered the army of the newly constituted Polish kingdom under the + sceptre of Alexander I, Autocrat of all the Russias. + </p> + <p> + This kingdom, created by the Vienna Congress as an acknowledgment to a + nation of its former independent existence, included only the central + provinces of the old Polish patrimony. A brother of the Emperor, the Grand + Duke Constantine (Pavlovitch), its Viceroy and Commander-in-Chief, married + morganatically to a Polish lady to whom he was fiercely attached, extended + this affection to what he called “My Poles” in a capricious and savage + manner. Sallow in complexion, with a Tartar physiognomy and fierce little + eyes, he walked with his fists clenched, his body bent forward, darting + suspicious glances from under an enormous cocked hat. His intelligence was + limited, and his sanity itself was doubtful. The hereditary taint + expressed itself, in his case, not by mystic leanings as in his two + brothers, Alexander and Nicholas (in their various ways, for one was + mystically liberal and the other mystically autocratic), but by the fury + of an uncontrollable temper which generally broke out in disgusting abuse + on the parade ground. He was a passionate militarist and an amazing + drill-master. He treated his Polish army as a spoiled child treats a + favourite toy, except that he did not take it to bed with him at night. It + was not small enough for that. But he played with it all day and every + day, delighting in the variety of pretty uniforms and in the fun of + incessant drilling. This childish passion, not for war, but for mere + militarism, achieved a desirable result. The Polish army, in its + equipment, in its armament, and in its battle-field efficiency, as then + understood, became, by the end of the year 1830, a first-rate tactical + instrument. Polish peasantry (not serfs) served in the ranks by + enlistment, and the officers belonged mainly to the smaller nobility. Mr. + Nicholas B., with his Napoleonic record, had no difficulty in obtaining a + lieutenancy, but the promotion in the Polish army was slow, because, being + a separate organization, it took no part in the wars of the Russian Empire + against either Persia or Turkey. Its first campaign, against Russia + itself, was to be its last. In 1831, on the outbreak of the Revolution, + Mr. Nicholas B. was the senior captain of his regiment. Some time before + he had been made head of the remount establishment quartered outside the + kingdom in our southern provinces, whence almost all the horses for the + Polish cavalry were drawn. For the first time since he went away from home + at the age of eighteen to begin his military life by the battle of + Friedland, Mr. Nicholas B. breathed the air of the “Border,” his native + air. Unkind fate was lying in wait for him among the scenes of his youth. + At the first news of the rising in Warsaw all the remount establishment, + officers, “vets.,” and the very troopers, were put promptly under arrest + and hurried off in a body beyond the Dnieper to the nearest town in Russia + proper. From there they were dispersed to the distant parts of the empire. + On this occasion poor Mr. Nicholas B. penetrated into Russia much farther + than he ever did in the times of Napoleonic invasion, if much less + willingly. Astrakan was his destination. He remained there three years, + allowed to live at large in the town, but having to report himself every + day at noon to the military commandant, who used to detain him frequently + for a pipe and a chat. It is difficult to form a just idea of what a chat + with Mr. Nicholas B. could have been like. There must have been much + compressed rage under his taciturnity, for the commandant communicated to + him the news from the theatre of war, and this news was such as it could + be—that is, very bad for the Poles. Mr. Nicholas B. received these + communications with outward phlegm, but the Russian showed a warm sympathy + for his prisoner. “As a soldier myself I understand your feelings. You, of + course, would like to be in the thick of it. By heavens! I am fond of you. + If it were not for the terms of the military oath I would let you go on my + own responsibility. What difference could it make to us, one more or less + of you?” + </p> + <p> + At other times he wondered with simplicity. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Nicholas Stepanovitch” (my great-grandfather's name was Stephen, + and the commandant used the Russian form of polite address)—“tell me + why is it that you Poles are always looking for trouble? What else could + you expect from running up against Russia?” + </p> + <p> + He was capable, too, of philosophical reflections. + </p> + <p> + “Look at your Napoleon now. A great man. There is no denying it that he + was a great man as long as he was content to thrash those Germans and + Austrians and all those nations. But no! He must go to Russia looking for + trouble, and what's the consequence? Such as you see me; I have rattled + this sabre of mine on the pavements of Paris.” + </p> + <p> + After his return to Poland Mr. Nicholas B. described him as a “worthy man + but stupid,” whenever he could be induced to speak of the conditions of + his exile. Declining the option offered him to enter the Russian army, he + was retired with only half the pension of his rank. His nephew (my uncle + and guardian) told me that the first lasting impression on his memory as a + child of four was the glad excitement reigning in his parents' house on + the day when Mr. Nicholas B. arrived home from his detention in Russia. + </p> + <p> + Every generation has its memories. The first memories of Mr. Nicholas B. + might have been shaped by the events of the last partition of Poland, and + he lived long enough to suffer from the last armed rising in 1863, an + event which affected the future of all my generation and has coloured my + earliest impressions. His brother, in whose house he had sheltered for + some seventeen years his misanthropical timidity before the commonest + problems of life, having died in the early fifties, Mr. Nicholas B. had to + screw his courage up to the sticking-point and come to some decision as to + the future. After a long and agonizing hesitation he was persuaded at last + to become the tenant of some fifteen hundred acres out of the estate of a + friend in the neighbourhood. + </p> + <p> + The terms of the lease were very advantageous, but the retired situation + of the village and a plain, comfortable house in good repair were, I + fancy, the greatest inducements. He lived there quietly for about ten + years, seeing very few people and taking no part in the public life of the + province, such as it could be under an arbitrary bureaucratic tyranny. His + character and his patriotism were above suspicion; but the organizers of + the rising in their frequent journeys up and down the province + scrupulously avoided coming near his house. It was generally felt that the + repose of the old man's last years ought not to be disturbed. Even such + intimates as my paternal grandfather, comrade-in-arms during Napoleon's + Moscow campaign, and later on a fellow officer in the Polish army, + refrained from visiting his crony as the date of the outbreak approached. + My paternal grandfather's two sons and his only daughter were all deeply + involved in the revolutionary work; he himself was of that type of Polish + squire whose only ideal of patriotic action was to “get into the saddle + and drive them out.” But even he agreed that “dear Nicholas must not be + worried.” All this considerate caution on the part of friends, both + conspirators and others, did not prevent Mr. Nicholas B. being made to + feel the misfortunes of that ill-omened year. + </p> + <p> + Less than forty-eight hours after the beginning of the rebellion in that + part of the country, a squadron of scouting Cossacks passed through the + village and invaded the homestead. Most of them remained, formed between + the house and the stables, while several, dismounting, ransacked the + various outbuildings. The officer in command, accompanied by two men, + walked up to the front door. All the blinds on that side were down. The + officer told the servant who received him that he wanted to see his + master. He was answered that the master was away from home, which was + perfectly true. + </p> + <p> + I follow here the tale as told afterward by the servant to my granduncle's + friends and relatives, and as I have heard it repeated. + </p> + <p> + On receiving this answer the Cossack officer, who had been standing in the + porch, stepped into the house. + </p> + <p> + “Where is the master gone, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Our master went to J——” (the government town some fifty miles + off) “the day before yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “There are only two horses in the stables. Where are the others?” + </p> + <p> + “Our master always travels with his own horses” (meaning: not by post). + “He will be away a week or more. He was pleased to mention to me that he + had to attend to some business in the Civil Court.” + </p> + <p> + While the servant was speaking the officer looked about the hall. + </p> + <p> + There was a door facing him, a door to the right, and a door to the left. + The officer chose to enter the room on the left, and ordered the blinds to + be pulled up. It was Mr. Nicholas B.'s study, with a couple of tall + bookcases, some pictures on the walls, and so on. Besides the big + centre-table, with books and papers, there was a quite small + writing-table, with several drawers, standing between the door and the + window in a good light; and at this table my granduncle usually sat either + to read or write. + </p> + <p> + On pulling up the blind the servant was startled by the discovery that the + whole male population of the village was massed in front, trampling down + the flower-beds. There were also a few women among them. He was glad to + observe the village priest (of the Orthodox Church) coming up the drive. + The good man in his haste had tucked up his cassock as high as the top of + his boots. + </p> + <p> + The officer had been looking at the backs of the books in the bookcases. + Then he perched himself on the edge of the centre table and remarked + easily: + </p> + <p> + “Your master did not take you to town with him, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I am the head servant, and he leaves me in charge of the house. It's a + strong, young chap that travels with our master. If—God forbid—there + was some accident on the road, he would be of much more use than I.” + </p> + <p> + Glancing through the window, he saw the priest arguing vehemently in the + thick of the crowd, which seemed subdued by his interference. Three or + four men, however, were talking with the Cossacks at the door. + </p> + <p> + “And you don't think your master has gone to join the rebels maybe—eh?” + asked the officer. + </p> + <p> + “Our master would be too old for that, surely. He's well over seventy, and + he's getting feeble, too. It's some years now since he's been on + horseback, and he can't walk much, either, now.” + </p> + <p> + The officer sat there swinging his leg, very quiet and indifferent. By + that time the peasants who had been talking with the Cossack troopers at + the door had been permitted to get into the hall. One or two more left the + crowd and followed them in. They were seven in all, and among them the + blacksmith, an ex-soldier. The servant appealed deferentially to the + officer. + </p> + <p> + “Won't your honour be pleased to tell the people to go back to their + homes? What do they want to push themselves into the house like this for? + It's not proper for them to behave like this while our master's away and I + am responsible for everything here.” + </p> + <p> + The officer only laughed a little, and after a while inquired: + </p> + <p> + “Have you any arms in the house?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. We have. Some old things.” + </p> + <p> + “Bring them all here, onto this table.” + </p> + <p> + The servant made another attempt to obtain protection. + </p> + <p> + “Won't your honour tell these chaps. . . ?” + </p> + <p> + But the officer looked at him in silence, in such a way that he gave it up + at once and hurried off to call the pantry-boy to help him collect the + arms. Meantime, the officer walked slowly through all the rooms in the + house, examining them attentively but touching nothing. The peasants in + the hall fell back and took off their caps when he passed through. He said + nothing whatever to them. When he came back to the study all the arms to + be found in the house were lying on the table. There was a pair of big, + flint-lock holster pistols from Napoleonic times, two cavalry swords, one + of the French, the other of the Polish army pattern, with a fowling-piece + or two. + </p> + <p> + The officer, opening the window, flung out pistols, swords, and guns, one + after another, and his troopers ran to pick them up. The peasants in the + hall, encouraged by his manner, had stolen after him into the study. He + gave not the slightest sign of being conscious of their existence, and, + his business being apparently concluded, strode out of the house without a + word. Directly he left, the peasants in the study put on their caps and + began to smile at each other. + </p> + <p> + The Cossacks rode away, passing through the yards of the home farm + straight into the fields. The priest, still arguing with the peasants, + moved gradually down the drive and his earnest eloquence was drawing the + silent mob after him, away from the house. This justice must be rendered + to the parish priests of the Greek Church that, strangers to the country + as they were (being all drawn from the interior of Russia), the majority + of them used such influence as they had over their flocks in the cause of + peace and humanity. True to the spirit of their calling, they tried to + soothe the passions of the excited peasantry, and opposed rapine and + violence, whenever they could, with all their might. And this conduct they + pursued against the express wishes of the authorities. Later on some of + them were made to suffer for this disobedience by being removed abruptly + to the far north or sent away to Siberian parishes. + </p> + <p> + The servant was anxious to get rid of the few peasants who had got into + the house. What sort of conduct was that, he asked them, toward a man who + was only a tenant, had been invariably good and considerate to the + villagers for years, and only the other day had agreed to give up two + meadows for the use of the village herd? He reminded them, too, of Mr. + Nicholas B.'s devotion to the sick in time of cholera. Every word of this + was true, and so far effective that the fellows began to scratch their + heads and look irresolute. The speaker then pointed at the window, + exclaiming: “Look! there's all your crowd going away quietly, and you + silly chaps had better go after them and pray God to forgive you your evil + thoughts.” + </p> + <p> + This appeal was an unlucky inspiration. + </p> + <p> + In crowding clumsily to the window to see whether he was speaking the + truth, the fellows overturned the little writing-table. As it fell over a + chink of loose coin was heard. “There's money in that thing,” cried the + blacksmith. In a moment the top of the delicate piece of furniture was + smashed and there lay exposed in a drawer eighty half imperials. Gold coin + was a rare sight in Russia even at that time; it put the peasants beside + themselves. “There must be more of that in the house, and we shall have + it,” yelled the ex-soldier blacksmith. “This is war-time.” The others were + already shouting out of the window, urging the crowd to come back and + help. The priest, abandoned suddenly at the gate, flung his arms up and + hurried away so as not to see what was going to happen. + </p> + <p> + In their search for money that bucolic mob smashed everything in the + house, ripping with knives, splitting with hatchets, so that, as the + servant said, there were no two pieces of wood holding together left in + the whole house. They broke some very fine mirrors, all the windows, and + every piece of glass and china. They threw the books and papers out on the + lawn and set fire to the heap for the mere fun of the thing, apparently. + Absolutely the only one solitary thing which they left whole was a small + ivory crucifix, which remained hanging on the wall in the wrecked bedroom + above a wild heap of rags, broken mahogany, and splintered boards which + had been Mr. Nicholas B.'s bedstead. Detecting the servant in the act of + stealing away with a japanned tin box, they tore it from him, and because + he resisted they threw him out of the dining-room window. The house was on + one floor, but raised well above the ground, and the fall was so serious + that the man remained lying stunned till the cook and a stable-boy + ventured forth at dusk from their hiding-places and picked him up. But by + that time the mob had departed, carrying off the tin box, which they + supposed to be full of paper money. Some distance from the house, in the + middle of a field, they broke it open. They found in side documents + engrossed on parchment and the two crosses of the Legion of Honour and For + Valour. At the sight of these objects, which, the blacksmith explained, + were marks of honour given only by the Tsar, they became extremely + frightened at what they had done. They threw the whole lot away into a + ditch and dispersed hastily. + </p> + <p> + On learning of this particular loss Mr. Nicholas B. broke down completely. + The mere sacking of his house did not seem to affect him much. While he + was still in bed from the shock, the two crosses were found and returned + to him. It helped somewhat his slow convalescence, but the tin box and the + parchments, though searched for in all the ditches around, never turned up + again. He could not get over the loss of his Legion of Honour Patent, + whose preamble, setting forth his services, he knew by heart to the very + letter, and after this blow volunteered sometimes to recite, tears + standing in his eyes the while. Its terms haunted him apparently during + the last two years of his life to such an extent that he used to repeat + them to himself. This is confirmed by the remark made more than once by + his old servant to the more intimate friends. “What makes my heart heavy + is to hear our master in his room at night walking up and down and praying + aloud in the French language.” + </p> + <p> + It must have been somewhat over a year afterward that I saw Mr. Nicholas + B.—or, more correctly, that he saw me—for the last time. It + was, as I have already said, at the time when my mother had a three + months' leave from exile, which she was spending in the house of her + brother, and friends and relations were coming from far and near to do her + honour. It is inconceivable that Mr. Nicholas B. should not have been of + the number. The little child a few months old he had taken up in his arms + on the day of his home-coming, after years of war and exile, was + confessing her faith in national salvation by suffering exile in her turn. + I do not know whether he was present on the very day of our departure. + </p> + <p> + I have already admitted that for me he is more especially the man who in + his youth had eaten roast dog in the depths of a gloomy forest of + snow-loaded pines. My memory cannot place him in any remembered scene. A + hooked nose, some sleek white hair, an unrelated evanescent impression of + a meagre, slight, rigid figure militarily buttoned up to the throat, is + all that now exists on earth of Mr. Nicholas B.; only this vague shadow + pursued by the memory of his grandnephew, the last surviving human being, + I suppose, of all those he had seen in the course of his taciturn life. + </p> + <p> + But I remember well the day of our departure back to exile. The elongated, + bizarre, shabby travelling-carriage with four post-horses, standing before + the long front of the house with its eight columns, four on each side of + the broad flight of stairs. On the steps, groups of servants, a few + relations, one or two friends from the nearest neighbourhood, a perfect + silence; on all the faces an air of sober concentration; my grandmother, + all in black, gazing stoically; my uncle giving his arm to my mother down + to the carriage in which I had been placed already; at the top of the + flight my little cousin in a short skirt of a tartan pattern with a deal + of red in it, and like a small princess attended by the women of her own + household; the head gouvernante, our dear, corpulent Francesca (who had + been for thirty years in the service of the B. family), the former nurse, + now outdoor attendant, a handsome peasant face wearing a compassionate + expression, and the good, ugly Mlle. Durand, the governess, with her black + eyebrows meeting over a short, thick nose, and a complexion like + pale-brown paper. Of all the eyes turned toward the carriage, her + good-natured eyes only were dropping tears, and it was her sobbing voice + alone that broke the silence with an appeal to me: “<i>N'oublie pas ton + francais, mon cheri</i>.” In three months, simply by playing with us, she + had taught me not only to speak French, but to read it as well. She was + indeed an excellent playmate. In the distance, half-way down to the great + gates, a light, open trap, harnessed with three horses in Russian fashion, + stood drawn up on one side, with the police captain of the district + sitting in it, the vizor of his flat cap with a red band pulled down over + his eyes. + </p> + <p> + It seems strange that he should have been there to watch our going so + carefully. Without wishing to treat with levity the just timidites of + Imperialists all the world over, I may allow myself the reflection that a + woman, practically condemned by the doctors, and a small boy not quite six + years old, could not be regarded as seriously dangerous, even for the + largest of conceivable empires saddled with the most sacred of + responsibilities. And this good man I believe did not think so, either. + </p> + <p> + I learned afterward why he was present on that day. I don't remember any + outward signs; but it seems that, about a month before, my mother became + so unwell that there was a doubt whether she could be made fit to travel + in the time. In this uncertainty the Governor-General in Kiev was + petitioned to grant her a fortnight's extension of stay in her brother's + house. No answer whatever was returned to this prayer, but one day at dusk + the police captain of the district drove up to the house and told my + uncle's valet, who ran out to meet him, that he wanted to speak with the + master in private, at once. Very much impressed (he thought it was going + to be an arrest), the servant, “more dead than alive with fright,” as he + related afterward, smuggled him through the big drawing-room, which was + dark (that room was not lighted every evening), on tiptoe, so as not to + attract the attention of the ladies in the house, and led him by way of + the orangery to my uncle's private apartments. + </p> + <p> + The policeman, without any preliminaries, thrust a paper into my uncle's + hands. + </p> + <p> + “There. Pray read this. I have no business to show this paper to you. It + is wrong of me. But I can't either eat or sleep with such a job hanging + over me.” + </p> + <p> + That police captain, a native of Great Russia, had been for many years + serving in the district. + </p> + <p> + My uncle unfolded and read the document. It was a service order issued + from the Governor-General's secretariat, dealing with the matter of the + petition and directing the police captain to disregard all remonstrances + and explanations in regard to that illness either from medical men or + others, “and if she has not left her brother's house”—it went on to + say—“on the morning of the day specified on her permit, you are to + despatch her at once under escort, direct” (underlined) “to the + prison-hospital in Kiev, where she will be treated as her case demands.” + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, Mr. B., see that your sister goes away punctually on that + day. Don't give me this work to do with a woman—and with one of your + family, too. I simply cannot bear to think of it.” + </p> + <p> + He was absolutely wringing his hands. My uncle looked at him in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for this warning. I assure you that even if she were dying she + would be carried out to the carriage.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—indeed—and what difference would it make—travel to + Kiev or back to her husband? For she would have to go—death or no + death. And mind, Mr. B., I will be here on the day, not that I doubt your + promise, but because I must. I have got to. Duty. All the same my trade is + not fit for a dog since some of you Poles will persist in rebelling, and + all of you have got to suffer for it.” + </p> + <p> + This is the reason why he was there in an open three-horse trap pulled up + between the house and the great gates. I regret not being able to give up + his name to the scorn of all believers in the right of conquest, as a + reprehensibly sensitive guardian of Imperial greatness. On the other hand, + I am in a position to state the name of the Governor-General who signed + the order with the marginal note “to be carried out to the letter” in his + own handwriting. The gentleman's name was Bezak. A high dignitary, an + energetic official, the idol for a time of the Russian patriotic press. + </p> + <p> + Each generation has its memories. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + It must not be supposed that, in setting forth the memories of this + half-hour between the moment my uncle left my room till we met again at + dinner, I am losing sight of “Almayer's Folly.” Having confessed that my + first novel was begun in idleness—a holiday task—I think I + have also given the impression that it was a much-delayed book. It was + never dismissed from my mind, even when the hope of ever finishing it was + very faint. Many things came in its way: daily duties, new impressions, + old memories. It was not the outcome of a need—the famous need of + self-expression which artists find in their search for motives. The + necessity which impelled me was a hidden, obscure necessity, a completely + masked and unaccountable phenomenon. Or perhaps some idle and frivolous + magician (there must be magicians in London) had cast a spell over me + through his parlour window as I explored the maze of streets east and west + in solitary leisurely walks without chart and compass. Till I began to + write that novel I had written nothing but letters, and not very many of + these. I never made a note of a fact, of an impression, or of an anecdote + in my life. The conception of a planned book was entirely outside my + mental range when I sat down to write; the ambition of being an author had + never turned up among those gracious imaginary existences one creates + fondly for oneself at times in the stillness and immobility of a + day-dream: yet it stands clear as the sun at noonday that from the moment + I had done blackening over the first manuscript page of “Almayer's Folly” + (it contained about two hundred words and this proportion of words to a + page has remained with me through the fifteen years of my writing life), + from the moment I had, in the simplicity of my heart and the amazing + ignorance of my mind, written that page the die was cast. Never had + Rubicon been more blindly forded without invocation to the gods, without + fear of men. + </p> + <p> + That morning I got up from my breakfast, pushing the chair back, and rang + the bell violently, or perhaps I should say resolutely, or perhaps I + should say eagerly—I do not know. But manifestly it must have been a + special ring of the bell, a common sound made impressive, like the ringing + of a bell for the raising of the curtain upon a new scene. It was an + unusual thing for me to do. Generally, I dawdled over my breakfast and I + seldom took the trouble to ring the bell for the table to be cleared away; + but on that morning, for some reason hidden in the general mysteriousness + of the event, I did not dawdle. And yet I was not in a hurry. I pulled the + cord casually, and while the faint tinkling somewhere down in the basement + went on, I charged my pipe in the usual way and I looked for the match-box + with glances distraught indeed, but exhibiting, I am ready to swear, no + signs of a fine frenzy. I was composed enough to perceive after some + considerable time the match-box lying there on the mantelpiece right under + my nose. And all this was beautifully and safely usual. Before I had + thrown down the match my landlady's daughter appeared with her calm, pale + face and an inquisitive look, in the doorway. Of late it was the + landlady's daughter who answered my bell. I mention this little fact with + pride, because it proves that during the thirty or forty days of my + tenancy I had produced a favourable impression. For a fortnight past I had + been spared the unattractive sight of the domestic slave. The girls in + that Bessborough Gardens house were often changed, but whether short or + long, fair or dark, they were always untidy and particularly bedraggled, + as if in a sordid version of the fairy tale the ash-bin cat had been + changed into a maid. I was infinitely sensible of the privilege of being + waited on by my landlady's daughter. She was neat if anemic. + </p> + <p> + “Will you please clear away all this at once?” I addressed her in + convulsive accents, being at the same time engaged in getting my pipe to + draw. This, I admit, was an unusual request. Generally, on getting up from + breakfast I would sit down in the window with a book and let them clear + the table when they liked; but if you think that on that morning I was in + the least impatient, you are mistaken. I remember that I was perfectly + calm. As a matter of fact I was not at all certain that I wanted to write, + or that I meant to write, or that I had anything to write about. No, I was + not impatient. I lounged between the mantelpiece and the window, not even + consciously waiting for the table to be cleared. It was ten to one that + before my landlady's daughter was done I would pick up a book and sit down + with it all the morning in a spirit of enjoyable indolence. I affirm it + with assurance, and I don't even know now what were the books then lying + about the room. What ever they were, they were not the works of great + masters, where the secret of clear thought and exact expression can be + found. Since the age of five I have been a great reader, as is not perhaps + wonderful in a child who was never aware of learning to read. At ten years + of age I had read much of Victor Hugo and other romantics. I had read in + Polish and in French, history, voyages, novels; I knew “Gil Blas” and “Don + Quixote” in abridged editions; I had read in early boyhood Polish poets + and some French poets, but I cannot say what I read on the evening before + I began to write myself. I believe it was a novel, and it is quite + possible that it was one of Anthony Trollope's novels. It is very likely. + My acquaintance with him was then very recent. He is one of the English + novelists whose works I read for the first time in English. With men of + European reputation, with Dickens and Walter Scott and Thackeray, it was + otherwise. My first introduction to English imaginative literature was + “Nicholas Nickleby.” It is extraordinary how well Mrs. Nickleby could + chatter disconnectedly in Polish and the sinister Ralph rage in that + language. As to the Crummles family and the family of the learned Squeers + it seemed as natural to them as their native speech. It was, I have no + doubt, an excellent translation. This must have been in the year '70. But + I really believe that I am wrong. That book was not my first introduction + to English literature. My first acquaintance was (or were) the “Two + Gentlemen of Verona,” and that in the very MS. of my father's translation. + It was during our exile in Russia, and it must have been less than a year + after my mother's death, because I remember myself in the black blouse + with a white border of my heavy mourning. We were living together, quite + alone, in a small house on the outskirts of the town of T——. + That afternoon, instead of going out to play in the large yard which we + shared with our landlord, I had lingered in the room in which my father + generally wrote. What emboldened me to clamber into his chair I am sure I + don't know, but a couple of hours afterward he discovered me kneeling in + it with my elbows on the table and my head held in both hands over the MS. + of loose pages. I was greatly confused, expecting to get into trouble. He + stood in the doorway looking at me with some surprise, but the only thing + he said after a moment of silence was: + </p> + <p> + “Read the page aloud.” + </p> + <p> + Luckily the page lying before me was not overblotted with erasures and + corrections, and my father's handwriting was otherwise extremely legible. + When I got to the end he nodded, and I flew out-of-doors, thinking myself + lucky to have escaped reproof for that piece of impulsive audacity. I have + tried to discover since the reason for this mildness, and I imagine that + all unknown to myself I had earned, in my father's mind, the right to some + latitude in my relations with his writing-table. It was only a month + before—or perhaps it was only a week before—that I had read to + him aloud from beginning to end, and to his perfect satisfaction, as he + lay on his bed, not being very well at the time, the proofs of his + translation of Victor Hugo's “Toilers of the Sea.” Such was my title to + consideration, I believe, and also my first introduction to the sea in + literature. + </p> + <p> + If I do not remember where, how, and when I learned to read, I am not + likely to forget the process of being trained in the art of reading aloud. + My poor father, an admirable reader himself, was the most exacting of + masters. I reflect proudly that I must have read that page of “Two + Gentlemen of Verona” tolerably well at the age of eight. The next time I + met them was in a 5s. one-volume edition of the dramatic works of William + Shakespeare, read in Falmouth, at odd moments of the day, to the noisy + accompaniment of calkers' mallets driving oakum into the deck-seams of a + ship in dry-dock. We had run in, in a sinking condition and with the crew + refusing duty after a month of weary battling with the gales of the North + Atlantic. Books are an integral part of one's life, and my Shakespearian + associations are with that first year of our bereavement, the last I spent + with my father in exile (he sent me away to Poland to my mother's brother + directly he could brace himself up for the separation), and with the year + of hard gales, the year in which I came nearest to death at sea, first by + water and then by fire. + </p> + <p> + Those things I remember, but what I was reading the day before my writing + life began I have forgotten. I have only a vague notion that it might have + been one of Trollope's political novels. And I remember, too, the + character of the day. It was an autumn day with an opaline atmosphere, a + veiled, semi-opaque, lustrous day, with fiery points and flashes of red + sunlight on the roofs and windows opposite, while the trees of the square, + with all their leaves gone, were like the tracings of India ink on a sheet + of tissue-paper. It was one of those London days that have the charm of + mysterious amenity, of fascinating softness. The effect of opaline mist + was often repeated at Bessborough Gardens on account of the nearness to + the river. + </p> + <p> + There is no reason why I should remember that effect more on that day than + on any other day, except that I stood for a long time looking out of the + window after the landlady's daughter was gone with her spoil of cups and + saucers. I heard her put the tray down in the passage and finally shut the + door; and still I remained smoking, with my back to the room. It is very + clear that I was in no haste to take the plunge into my writing life, if + as plunge this first attempt may be described. My whole being was steeped + deep in the indolence of a sailor away from the sea, the scene of + never-ending labour and of unceasing duty. For utter surrender to + indolence you cannot beat a sailor ashore when that mood is on him—the + mood of absolute irresponsibility tasted to the full. It seems to me that + I thought of nothing whatever, but this is an impression which is hardly + to be believed at this distance of years. What I am certain of is that I + was very far from thinking of writing a story, though it is possible and + even likely that I was thinking of the man Almayer. + </p> + <p> + I had seen him for the first time, some four years before, from the bridge + of a steamer moored to a rickety little wharf forty miles up, more or + less, a Bornean river. It was very early morning, and a slight mist—an + opaline mist as in Bessborough Gardens, only without the fiery flicks on + roof and chimney-pot from the rays of the red London sun—promised to + turn presently into a woolly fog. Barring a small dug-out canoe on the + river there was nothing moving within sight. I had just come up yawning + from my cabin. The serang and the Malay crew were overhauling the cargo + chains and trying the winches; their voices sounded subdued on the deck + below, and their movements were languid. That tropical daybreak was + chilly. The Malay quartermaster, coming up to get something from the + lockers on the bridge, shivered visibly. The forests above and below and + on the opposite bank looked black and dank; wet dripped from the rigging + upon the tightly stretched deck awnings, and it was in the middle of a + shuddering yawn that I caught sight of Almayer. He was moving across a + patch of burned grass, a blurred, shadowy shape with the blurred bulk of a + house behind him, a low house of mats, bamboos, and palm leaves, with a + high-pitched roof of grass. + </p> + <p> + He stepped upon the jetty. He was clad simply in flapping pajamas of + cretonne pattern (enormous flowers with yellow petals on a disagreeable + blue ground) and a thin cotton singlet with short sleeves. His arms, bare + to the elbow, were crossed on his chest. His black hair looked as if it + had not been cut for a very long time, and a curly wisp of it strayed + across his forehead. I had heard of him at Singapore; I had heard of him + on board; I had heard of him early in the morning and late at night; I had + heard of him at tiffin and at dinner; I had heard of him in a place called + Pulo Laut from a half-caste gentleman there, who described himself as the + manager of a coal-mine; which sounded civilized and progressive till you + heard that the mine could not be worked at present because it was haunted + by some particularly atrocious ghosts. I had heard of him in a place + called Dongola, in the Island of Celebes, when the Rajah of that + little-known seaport (you can get no anchorage there in less than fifteen + fathom, which is extremely inconvenient) came on board in a friendly way, + with only two attendants, and drank bottle after bottle of soda-water on + the after-sky light with my good friend and commander, Captain C——. + At least I heard his name distinctly pronounced several times in a lot of + talk in Malay language. Oh, yes, I heard it quite distinctly—Almayer, + Almayer—and saw Captain C—— smile, while the fat, dingy + Rajah laughed audibly. To hear a Malay Rajah laugh outright is a rare + experience, I can assure you. And I overheard more of Almayer's name + among our deck passengers (mostly wandering traders of good repute) as + they sat all over the ship—each man fenced round with bundles and + boxes—on mats, on pillows, on quilts, on billets of wood, conversing + of Island affairs. Upon my word, I heard the mutter of Almayer's name + faintly at midnight, while making my way aft from the bridge to look at + the patent taffrail-log tinkling its quarter miles in the great silence of + the sea. I don't mean to say that our passengers dreamed aloud of Almayer, + but it is indubitable that two of them at least, who could not sleep, + apparently, and were trying to charm away the trouble of insomnia by a + little whispered talk at that ghostly hour, were referring in some way or + other to Almayer. It was really impossible on board that ship to get away + definitely from Almayer; and a very small pony tied up forward and + whisking its tail inside the galley, to the great embarrassment of our + Chinaman cook, was destined for Almayer. What he wanted with a pony + goodness only knows, since I am perfectly certain he could not ride it; + but here you have the man, ambitious, aiming at the grandiose, importing a + pony, whereas in the whole settlement at which he used to shake daily his + impotent fist there was only one path that was practicable for a pony: a + quarter of a mile at most, hedged in by hundreds of square leagues of + virgin forest. But who knows? The importation of that Bali pony might have + been part of some deep scheme, of some diplomatic plan, of some hopeful + intrigue. With Almayer one could never tell. He governed his conduct by + considerations removed from the obvious, by incredible assumptions, which + rendered his logic impenetrable to any reasonable person. I learned all + this later. That morning, seeing the figure in pajamas moving in the mist, + I said to myself, “That's the man.” + </p> + <p> + He came quite close to the ship's side and raised a harassed countenance, + round and flat, with that curl of black hair over the forehead and a + heavy, pained glance. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Good morning.” + </p> + <p> + He looked hard at me: I was a new face, having just replaced the chief + mate he was accustomed to see; and I think that this novelty inspired him, + as things generally did, with deep-seated mistrust. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't expect you till this evening,” he remarked, suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + I didn't know why he should have been aggrieved, but he seemed to be. I + took pains to explain to him that, having picked up the beacon at the + mouth of the river just before dark and the tide serving, Captain C—— + was enabled to cross the bar and there was nothing to prevent him going up + the river at night. + </p> + <p> + “Captain C—— knows this river like his own pocket,” I + concluded, discursively, trying to get on terms. + </p> + <p> + “Better,” said Almayer. + </p> + <p> + Leaning over the rail of the bridge, I looked at Almayer, who looked down + at the wharf in aggrieved thought. He shuffled his feet a little; he wore + straw slippers with thick soles. The morning fog had thickened + considerably. Everything round us dripped—the derricks, the rails, + every single rope in the ship—as if a fit of crying had come upon + the universe. + </p> + <p> + Almayer again raised his head and, in the accents of a man accustomed to + the buffets of evil fortune, asked, hardly audibly: + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you haven't got such a thing as a pony on board?” + </p> + <p> + I told him, almost in a whisper, for he attuned my communications to his + minor key, that we had such a thing as a pony, and I hinted, as gently as + I could, that he was confoundedly in the way, too. I was very anxious to + have him landed before I began to handle the cargo. Almayer remained + looking up at me for a long while, with incredulous and melancholy eyes, + as though it were not a safe thing to believe in my statement. This + pathetic mistrust in the favourable issue of any sort of affair touched me + deeply, and I added: + </p> + <p> + “He doesn't seem a bit the worse for the passage. He's a nice pony, too.” + </p> + <p> + Almayer was not to be cheered up; for all answer he cleared his throat and + looked down again at his feet. I tried to close with him on another tack. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove!” I said. “Aren't you afraid of catching pneumonia or bronchitis + or some thing, walking about in a singlet in such a wet fog?” + </p> + <p> + He was not to be propitiated by a show of interest in his health. + </p> + <p> + His answer was a sinister “No fear,” as much as to say that even that way + of escape from inclement fortune was closed to him. + </p> + <p> + “I just came down . . .” he mumbled after a while. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, now you're here I will land that pony for you at once, and + you can lead him home. I really don't want him on deck. He's in the way.” + </p> + <p> + Almayer seemed doubtful. I insisted: + </p> + <p> + “Why, I will just swing him out and land him on the wharf right in front + of you. I'd much rather do it before the hatches are off. The little devil + may jump down the hold or do some other deadly thing.” + </p> + <p> + “There's a halter?” postulated Almayer. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course there's a halter.” And without waiting any more I leaned + over the bridge rail. + </p> + <p> + “Serang, land Tuan Almayer's pony.” + </p> + <p> + The cook hastened to shut the door of the galley, and a moment later a + great scuffle began on deck. The pony kicked with extreme energy, the + kalashes skipped out of the way, the serang issued many orders in a + cracked voice. Suddenly the pony leaped upon the fore-hatch. His little + hoofs thundered tremendously; he plunged and reared. He had tossed his + mane and his forelock into a state of amazing wildness, he dilated his + nostrils, bits of foam flecked his broad little chest, his eyes blazed. He + was something under eleven hands; he was fierce, terrible, angry, warlike; + he said ha! ha! distinctly; he raged and thumped—and sixteen + able-bodied kalashes stood round him like disconcerted nurses round a + spoiled and passionate child. He whisked his tail incessantly; he arched + his pretty neck; he was perfectly delightful; he was charmingly naughty. + There was not an atom of vice in that performance; no savage baring of + teeth and laying back of ears. On the contrary, he pricked them forward in + a comically aggressive manner. He was totally unmoral and lovable; I would + have liked to give him bread, sugar, carrots. But life is a stern thing + and the sense of duty the only safe guide. So I steeled my heart, and from + my elevated position on the bridge I ordered the men to fling themselves + upon him in a body. + </p> + <p> + The elderly serang, emitting a strange, inarticulate cry, gave the + example. He was an excellent petty officer—very competent, indeed, + and a moderate opium-smoker. The rest of them in one great rush smothered + that pony. They hung on to his ears, to his mane, to his tail; they lay in + piles across his back, seventeen in all. The carpenter, seizing the hook + of the cargo-chain, flung himself on the top of them. A very satisfactory + petty officer, too, but he stuttered. Have you ever heard a light-yellow, + lean, sad, earnest Chinaman stutter in Pidgin-English? It's very weird, + indeed. He made the eighteenth. I could not see the pony at all; but from + the swaying and heaving of that heap of men I knew that there was + something alive inside. + </p> + <p> + From the wharf Almayer hailed, in quavering tones: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I say!” + </p> + <p> + Where he stood he could not see what was going on on deck, unless, + perhaps, the tops of the men's heads; he could only hear the scuffle, the + mighty thuds, as if the ship were being knocked to pieces. I looked over: + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't let them break his legs,” he entreated me, plaintively. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nonsense! He's all right now. He can't move.” + </p> + <p> + By that time the cargo-chain had been hooked to the broad canvas belt + round the pony's body; the kalashes sprang off simultaneously in all + directions, rolling over each other; and the worthy serang, making a dash + behind the winch, turned the steam on. + </p> + <p> + “Steady!” I yelled, in great apprehension of seeing the animal snatched up + to the very head of the derrick. + </p> + <p> + On the wharf Almayer shuffled his straw slippers uneasily. The rattle of + the winch stopped, and in a tense, impressive silence that pony began to + swing across the deck. + </p> + <p> + How limp he was! Directly he felt himself in the air he relaxed every + muscle in a most wonderful manner. His four hoofs knocked together in a + bunch, his head hung down, and his tail remained pendent in a nerveless + and absolute immobility. He reminded me vividly of the pathetic little + sheep which hangs on the collar of the Order of the Golden Fleece. I had + no idea that anything in the shape of a horse could be so limp as that, + either living or dead. His wild mane hung down lumpily, a mere mass of + inanimate horsehair; his aggressive ears had collapsed, but as he went + swaying slowly across the front of the bridge I noticed an astute gleam in + his dreamy, half-closed eye. A trustworthy quartermaster, his glance + anxious and his mouth on the broad grin, was easing over the derrick + watchfully. I superintended, greatly interested. + </p> + <p> + “So! That will do.” + </p> + <p> + The derrick-head stopped. The kalashes lined the rail. The rope of the + halter hung perpendicular and motionless like a bell-pull in front of + Almayer. Everything was very still. I suggested amicably that he should + catch hold of the rope and mind what he was about. He extended a + provokingly casual and superior hand. + </p> + <p> + “Look out, then! Lower away!” + </p> + <p> + Almayer gathered in the rope intelligently enough, but when the pony's + hoofs touched the wharf he gave way all at once to a most foolish + optimism. Without pausing, without thinking, almost without looking, he + disengaged the hook suddenly from the sling, and the cargo-chain, after + hitting the pony's quarters, swung back against the ship's side with a + noisy, rattling slap. I suppose I must have blinked. I know I missed + something, because the next thing I saw was Almayer lying flat on his back + on the jetty. He was alone. + </p> + <p> + Astonishment deprived me of speech long enough to give Almayer time to + pick himself up in a leisurely and painful manner. The kalashes lining the + rail all had their mouths open. The mist flew in the light breeze, and it + had come over quite thick enough to hide the shore completely. + </p> + <p> + “How on earth did you manage to let him get away?” I asked, scandalized. + </p> + <p> + Almayer looked into the smarting palm of his right hand, but did not + answer my inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “Where do you think he will get to?” I cried. “Are there any fences + anywhere in this fog? Can he bolt into the forest? What's to be done now?” + </p> + <p> + Almayer shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Some of my men are sure to be about. They will get hold of him sooner or + later.” + </p> + <p> + “Sooner or later! That's all very fine, but what about my canvas sling?—he's + carried it off. I want it now, at once, to land two Celebes cows.” + </p> + <p> + Since Dongola we had on board a pair of the pretty little island cattle in + addition to the pony. Tied up on the other side of the fore-deck they had + been whisking their tails into the other door of the galley. These cows + were not for Almayer, however; they were invoiced to Abdullah bin Selim, + his enemy. Almayer's disregard of my requirements was complete. + </p> + <p> + “If I were you I would try to find out where he's gone,” I insisted. + “Hadn't you better call your men together or something? He will throw + himself down and cut his knees. He may even break a leg, you know.” + </p> + <p> + But Almayer, plunged in abstracted thought, did not seem to want that pony + any more. Amazed at this sudden indifference, I turned all hands out on + shore to hunt for him on my own account, or, at any rate, to hunt for the + canvas sling which he had round his body. The whole crew of the steamer, + with the exception of firemen and engineers, rushed up the jetty, past the + thoughtful Almayer, and vanished from my sight. The white fog swallowed + them up; and again there was a deep silence that seemed to extend for + miles up and down the stream. Still taciturn, Almayer started to climb on + board, and I went down from the bridge to meet him on the after-deck. + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind telling the captain that I want to see him very + particularly?” he asked me, in a low tone, letting his eyes stray all over + the place. + </p> + <p> + “Very well. I will go and see.” + </p> + <p> + With the door of his cabin wide open, Captain C——, just back + from the bath-room, big and broad-chested, was brushing his thick, damp, + iron-gray hair with two large brushes. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Almayer told me he wanted to see you very particularly, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Saying these words, I smiled. I don't know why I smiled, except that it + seemed absolutely impossible to mention Almayer's name without a smile of + a sort. It had not to be necessarily a mirthful smile. Turning his head + toward me, Captain C—— smiled, too, rather joylessly. + </p> + <p> + “The pony got away from him—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. He did.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness only knows.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I mean Almayer. Let him come along.” + </p> + <p> + The captain's stateroom opening straight on deck under the bridge, I had + only to beckon from the doorway to Almayer, who had remained aft, with + downcast eyes, on the very spot where I had left him. He strolled up + moodily, shook hands, and at once asked permission to shut the cabin door. + </p> + <p> + “I have a pretty story to tell you,” were the last words I heard. + </p> + <p> + The bitterness of tone was remarkable. + </p> + <p> + I went away from the door, of course. For the moment I had no crew on + board; only the Chinaman carpenter, with a canvas bag hung round his neck + and a hammer in his hand, roamed about the empty decks, knocking out the + wedges of the hatches and dropping them into the bag conscientiously. + Having nothing to do I joined our two engineers at the door of the + engine-room. It was near breakfast-time. + </p> + <p> + “He's turned up early, hasn't he?” commented the second engineer, and + smiled indifferently. He was an abstemious man, with a good digestion and + a placid, reasonable view of life even when hungry. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said. “Shut up with the old man. Some very particular business.” + </p> + <p> + “He will spin him a damned endless yarn,” observed the chief engineer. + </p> + <p> + He smiled rather sourly. He was dyspeptic, and suffered from gnawing + hunger in the morning. The second smiled broadly, a smile that made two + vertical folds on his shaven cheeks. And I smiled, too, but I was not + exactly amused. In that man, whose name apparently could not be uttered + anywhere in the Malay Archipelago without a smile, there was nothing + amusing whatever. That morning he breakfasted with us silently, looking + mostly into his cup. I informed him that my men came upon his pony + capering in the fog on the very brink of the eight-foot-deep well in which + he kept his store of guttah. The cover was off, with no one nearby, and + the whole of my crew just missed going heels over head into that beastly + hole. Jurumudi Itam, our best quartermaster, deft at fine needlework, he + who mended the ship's flags and sewed buttons on our coats, was disabled + by a kick on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + Both remorse and gratitude seemed foreign to Almayer's character. + </p> + <p> + He mumbled: + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that pirate fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “What pirate fellow? The man has been in the ship eleven years,” I said, + indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “It's his looks,” Almayer muttered, for all apology. + </p> + <p> + The sun had eaten up the fog. From where we sat under the after-awning we + could see in the distance the pony tied up, in front of Almayer's house, + to a post of the veranda. We were silent for a long time. All at once + Almayer, alluding evidently to the subject of his conversation in the + captain's cabin, exclaimed anxiously across the table: + </p> + <p> + “I really don't know what I can do now!” + </p> + <p> + Captain C—— only raised his eyebrows at him, and got up from + his chair. We dispersed to our duties, but Almayer, half dressed as he was + in his cretonne pajamas and the thin cotton singlet, remained on board, + lingering near the gangway, as though he could not make up his mind + whether to go home or stay with us for good. + </p> + <p> + Our Chinamen boys gave him side glances as they went to and fro; and Ah + Sing, our chief steward, the handsomest and most sympathetic of Chinamen, + catching my eye, nodded knowingly at his burly back. In the course of the + morning I approached him for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Almayer,” I addressed him, easily, “you haven't started on your + letters yet.” + </p> + <p> + We had brought him his mail, and he had held the bundle in his hand ever + since we got up from breakfast. He glanced at it when I spoke, and for a + moment it looked as if he were on the point of opening his fingers and + letting the whole lot fall overboard. I believe he was tempted to do so. I + shall never forget that man afraid of his letters. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been long out from Europe?” he asked me. + </p> + <p> + “Not very. Not quite eight months,” I told him. “I left a ship in Samarang + with a hurt back, and have been in the hospital in Singapore some weeks.” + </p> + <p> + He sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Trade is very bad here.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “Hopeless! . . . See these geese?” + </p> + <p> + With the hand holding the letters he pointed out to me what resembled a + patch of snow creeping and swaying across the distant part of his + compound. It disappeared behind some bushes. + </p> + <p> + “The only geese on the East Coast,” Almayer informed me, in a perfunctory + mutter without a spark of faith, hope, or pride. Thereupon, with the same + absence of any sort of sustaining spirit, he declared his intention to + select a fat bird and send him on board for us not later than next day. + </p> + <p> + I had heard of these largesses before. He conferred a goose as if it were + a sort of court decoration given only to the tried friends of the house. I + had expected more pomp in the ceremony. The gift had surely its special + quality, multiple and rare. From the only flock on the East Coast! He did + not make half enough of it. That man did not understand his opportunities. + However, I thanked him at some length. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” he interrupted, abruptly, in a very peculiar tone, “the worst + of this country is that one is not able to realize . . . it's impossible + to realize. . . .” His voice sank into a languid mutter. “And when one has + very large interests . . . very important interests . . .” he finished, + faintly . . . “up the river.” + </p> + <p> + We looked at each other. He astonished me by giving a start and making a + very queer grimace. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I must be off,” he burst out, hurriedly. “So long!” + </p> + <p> + At the moment of stepping over the gangway he checked himself, though, to + give me a mumbled invitation to dine at his house that evening with my + captain, an invitation which I accepted. I don't think it could have been + possible for me to refuse. + </p> + <p> + I like the worthy folk who will talk to you of the exercise of free-will, + “at any rate for practical purposes.” Free, is it? For practical purposes! + Bosh! How could I have refused to dine with that man? I did not refuse, + simply because I could not refuse. Curiosity, a healthy desire for a + change of cooking, common civility, the talk and the smiles of the + previous twenty days, every condition of my existence at that moment and + place made irresistibly for acceptance; and, crowning all that, there was + the ignorance—the ignorance, I say—the fatal want of fore + knowledge to counterbalance these imperative conditions of the problem. A + refusal would have appeared perverse and insane. Nobody, unless a surly + lunatic, would have refused. But if I had not got to know Almayer pretty + well it is almost certain there would never have been a line of mine in + print. + </p> + <p> + I accepted then—and I am paying yet the price of my sanity. The + possessor of the only flock of geese on the East Coast is responsible for + the existence of some fourteen volumes, so far. The number of geese he had + called into being under adverse climatic conditions was considerably more + than fourteen. The tale of volumes will never overtake the counting of + heads, I am safe to say; but my ambitions point not exactly that way, and + whatever the pangs the toil of writing has cost me I have always thought + kindly of Almayer. + </p> + <p> + I wonder, had he known anything of it, what his attitude would have been? + This is something not to be discovered in this world. + </p> + <p> + But if we ever meet in the Elysian Fields—where I cannot depict him + to myself otherwise than attended in the distance by his flock of geese + (birds sacred to Jupiter)—and he addresses me in the stillness of + that passionless region, neither light nor darkness, neither sound nor + silence, and heaving endlessly with billowy mists from the impalpable + multitudes of the swarming dead, I think I know what answer to make. + </p> + <p> + I would say, after listening courteously to the unvibrating tone of his + measured remonstrances, which should not disturb, of course, the solemn + eternity of stillness in the least—I would say something like this: + </p> + <p> + “It is true, Almayer, that in the world below I have converted your name + to my own uses. But that is a very small larceny. What's in a name, O + Shade? If so much of your old mortal weakness clings to you yet as to make + you feel aggrieved (it was the note of your earthly voice, Almayer), then, + I entreat you, seek speech without delay with our sublime fellow-Shade—with + him who, in his transient existence as a poet, commented upon the smell of + the rose. He will comfort you. You came to me stripped of all prestige by + men's queer smiles and the disrespectful chatter of every vagrant trader + in the Islands. Your name was the common property of the winds; it, as it + were, floated naked over the waters about the equator. I wrapped round its + unhonoured form the royal mantle of the tropics, and have essayed to put + into the hollow sound the very anguish of paternity—feats which you + did not demand from me—but remember that all the toil and all the + pain were mine. In your earthly life you haunted me, Almayer. Consider + that this was taking a great liberty. Since you were always complaining of + being lost to the world, you should remember that if I had not believed + enough in your existence to let you haunt my rooms in Bessborough Gardens, + you would have been much more lost. You affirm that had I been capable of + looking at you with a more perfect detachment and a greater simplicity, I + might have perceived better the inward marvellousness which, you insist, + attended your career upon that tiny pin-point of light, hardly visible + far, far below us, where both our graves lie. No doubt! But reflect, O + complaining Shade! that this was not so much my fault as your crowning + misfortune. I believed in you in the only way it was possible for me to + believe. It was not worthy of your merits? So be it. But you were always + an unlucky man, Almayer. Nothing was ever quite worthy of you. What made + you so real to me was that you held this lofty theory with some force of + conviction and with an admirable consistency.” + </p> + <p> + It is with some such words translated into the proper shadowy expressions + that I am prepared to placate Almayer in the Elysian Abode of Shades, + since it has come to pass that, having parted many years ago, we are never + to meet again in this world. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V + </h2> + <p> + In the career of the most unliterary of writers, in the sense that + literary ambition had never entered the world of his imagination, the + coming into existence of the first book is quite an inexplicable event. In + my own case I cannot trace it back to any mental or psychological cause + which one could point out and hold to. The greatest of my gifts being a + consummate capacity for doing nothing, I cannot even point to boredom as a + rational stimulus for taking up a pen. The pen, at any rate, was there, + and there is nothing wonderful in that. Everybody keeps a pen (the cold + steel of our days) in his rooms, in this enlightened age of penny stamps + and halfpenny post-cards. In fact, this was the epoch when by means of + postcard and pen Mr. Gladstone had made the reputation of a novel or two. + And I, too, had a pen rolling about somewhere—the seldom-used, the + reluctantly taken-up pen of a sailor ashore, the pen rugged with the dried + ink of abandoned attempts, of answers delayed longer than decency + permitted, of letters begun with infinite reluctance, and put off suddenly + till next day—till next week, as like as not! The neglected, + uncared-for pen, flung away at the slightest provocation, and under the + stress of dire necessity hunted for without enthusiasm, in a perfunctory, + grumpy worry, in the “Where the devil <i>is</i> the beastly thing gone + to?” ungracious spirit. Where, indeed! It might have been reposing behind + the sofa for a day or so. My landlady's anemic daughter (as Ollendorff + would have expressed it), though commendably neat, had a lordly, careless + manner of approaching her domestic duties. Or it might even be resting + delicately poised on its point by the side of the table-leg, and when + picked up show a gaping, inefficient beak which would have discouraged any + man of literary instincts. But not me! “Never mind. This will do.” + </p> + <p> + O days without guile! If anybody had told me then that a devoted + household, having a generally exaggerated idea of my talents and + importance, would be put into a state of tremor and flurry by the fuss I + would make because of a suspicion that somebody had touched my sacrosanct + pen of authorship, I would have never deigned as much as the contemptuous + smile of unbelief. There are imaginings too unlikely for any kind of + notice, too wild for indulgence itself, too absurd for a smile. Perhaps, + had that seer of the future been a friend, I should have been secretly + saddened. “Alas!” I would have thought, looking at him with an unmoved + face, “the poor fellow is going mad.” + </p> + <p> + I would have been, without doubt, saddened; for in this world where the + journalists read the signs of the sky, and the wind of heaven itself, + blowing where it listeth, does so under the prophetical management of the + meteorological office, but where the secret of human hearts cannot be + captured by prying or praying, it was infinitely more likely that the + sanest of my friends should nurse the germ of incipient madness than that + I should turn into a writer of tales. + </p> + <p> + To survey with wonder the changes of one's own self is a fascinating + pursuit for idle hours. The field is so wide, the surprises so varied, the + subject so full of unprofitable but curious hints as to the work of unseen + forces, that one does not weary easily of it. I am not speaking here of + megalomaniacs who rest uneasy under the crown of their unbounded conceit—who + really never rest in this world, and when out of it go on fretting and + fuming on the straitened circumstances of their last habitation, where all + men must lie in obscure equality. Neither am I thinking of those ambitious + minds who, always looking forward to some aim of aggrandizement, can spare + no time for a detached, impersonal glance upon themselves. + </p> + <p> + And that's a pity. They are unlucky. These two kinds, together with the + much larger band of the totally unimaginative, of those unfortunate beings + in whose empty and unseeing gaze (as a great French writer has put it) + “the whole universe vanishes into blank nothingness,” miss, perhaps, the + true task of us men whose day is short on this earth, the abode of + conflicting opinions. The ethical view of the universe involves us at last + in so many cruel and absurd contradictions, where the last vestiges of + faith, hope, charity, and even of reason itself, seem ready to perish, + that I have come to suspect that the aim of creation cannot be ethical at + all. I would fondly believe that its object is purely spectacular: a + spectacle for awe, love, adoration, or hate, if you like, but in this view—and + in this view alone—never for despair! Those visions, delicious or + poignant, are a moral end in themselves. The rest is our affair—the + laughter, the tears, the tenderness, the indignation, the high + tranquillity of a steeled heart, the detached curiosity of a subtle mind—that's + our affair! And the unwearied self-forgetful attention to every phase of + the living universe reflected in our consciousness may be our appointed + task on this earth—a task in which fate has perhaps engaged nothing + of us except our conscience, gifted with a voice in order to bear true + testimony to the visible wonder, the haunting terror, the infinite + passion, and the illimitable serenity; to the supreme law and the abiding + mystery of the sublime spectacle. + </p> + <p> + Chi lo sa? It may be true. In this view there is room for every religion + except for the inverted creed of impiety, the mask and cloak of arid + despair; for every joy and every sorrow, for every fair dream, for every + charitable hope. The great aim is to remain true to the emotions called + out of the deep encircled by the firmament of stars, whose infinite + numbers and awful distances may move us to laughter or tears (was it the + Walrus or the Carpenter, in the poem, who “wept to see such quantities of + sand”?), or, again, to a properly steeled heart, may matter nothing at + all. + </p> + <p> + The casual quotation, which had suggested itself out of a poem full of + merit, leads me to remark that in the conception of a purely spectacular + universe, where inspiration of every sort has a rational existence, the + artist of every kind finds a natural place; and among them the poet as the + seer par excellence. Even the writer of prose, who in his less noble and + more toilsome task should be a man with the steeled heart, is worthy of a + place, providing he looks on with undimmed eyes and keeps laughter out of + his voice, let who will laugh or cry. Yes! Even he, the prose artist of + fiction, which after all is but truth often dragged out of a well and + clothed in the painted robe of imagined phrases—even he has his + place among kings, demagogues, priests, charlatans, dukes, giraffes, + cabinet ministers, Fabians, bricklayers, apostles, ants, scientists, + Kafirs, soldiers, sailors, elephants, lawyers, dandies, microbes, and + constellations of a universe whose amazing spectacle is a moral end in + itself. + </p> + <p> + Here I perceive (without speaking offense) the reader assuming a subtle + expression, as if the cat were out of the bag. I take the novelist's + freedom to observe the reader's mind formulating the exclamation: “That's + it! The fellow talks pro domo.” + </p> + <p> + Indeed it was not the intention! When I shouldered the bag I was not aware + of the cat inside. But, after all, why not? The fair courtyards of the + House of Art are thronged by many humble retainers. And there is no + retainer so devoted as he who is allowed to sit on the doorstep. The + fellows who have got inside are apt to think too much of themselves. This + last remark, I beg to state, is not malicious within the definition of the + law of libel. It's fair comment on a matter of public interest. But never + mind. <i>Pro domo</i>. So be it. For his house <i>tant que vous voudrez</i>. + And yet in truth I was by no means anxious to justify my existence. The + attempt would have been not only needless and absurd, but almost + inconceivable, in a purely spectacular universe, where no such + disagreeable necessity can possibly arise. It is sufficient for me to say + (and I am saying it at some length in these pages): <i>J'ai vecu</i>. I + have existed, obscure among the wonders and terrors of my time, as the + Abbe Sieyes, the original utterer of the quoted words, had managed to + exist through the violences, the crimes, and the enthusiasms of the French + Revolution. <i>J'ai vecu</i>, as I apprehend most of us manage to exist, + missing all along the varied forms of destruction by a hair's-breadth, + saving my body, that's clear, and perhaps my soul also, but not without + some damage here and there to the fine edge of my conscience, that + heirloom of the ages, of the race, of the group, of the family, colourable + and plastic, fashioned by the words, the looks, the acts, and even by the + silences and abstentions surrounding one's childhood; tinged in a complete + scheme of delicate shades and crude colours by the inherited traditions, + beliefs, or prejudices—unaccountable, despotic, persuasive, and + often, in its texture, romantic. + </p> + <p> + And often romantic! . . . The matter in hand, however, is to keep these + reminiscences from turning into confessions, a form of literary activity + discredited by Jean Jacques Rousseau on account of the extreme + thoroughness he brought to the work of justifying his own existence; for + that such was his purpose is palpably, even grossly, visible to an + unprejudiced eye. But then, you see, the man was not a writer of fiction. + He was an artless moralist, as is clearly demonstrated by his + anniversaries being celebrated with marked emphasis by the heirs of the + French Revolution, which was not a political movement at all, but a great + outburst of morality. He had no imagination, as the most casual perusal of + “Emile” will prove. He was no novelist, whose first virtue is the exact + understanding of the limits traced by the reality of his time to the play + of his invention. Inspiration comes from the earth, which has a past, a + history, a future, not from the cold and immutable heaven. A writer of + imaginative prose (even more than any other sort of artist) stands + confessed in his works. His conscience, his deeper sense of things, lawful + and unlawful, gives him his attitude before the world. Indeed, everyone + who puts pen to paper for the reading of strangers (unless a moralist, + who, generally speaking, has no conscience except the one he is at pains + to produce for the use of others) can speak of nothing else. It is M. + Anatole France, the most eloquent and just of French prose-writers, who + says that we must recognize at last that, “failing the resolution to hold + our peace, we can only talk of ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + This remark, if I remember rightly, was made in the course of a sparring + match with the late Ferdinand Brunetiere over the principles and rules of + literary criticism. As was fitting for a man to whom we owe the memorable + saying, “The good critic is he who relates the adventures of his soul + among masterpieces,” M. Anatole France maintained that there were no rules + and no principles. And that may be very true. Rules, principles, and + standards die and vanish every day. Perhaps they are all dead and vanished + by this time. These, if ever, are the brave, free days of destroyed + landmarks, while the ingenious minds are busy inventing the forms of the + new beacons which, it is consoling to think, will be set up presently in + the old places. But what is interesting to a writer is the possession of + an inward certitude that literary criticism will never die, for man (so + variously defined) is, before everything else, a critical animal. And as + long as distinguished minds are ready to treat it in the spirit of high + adventure literary criticism shall appeal to us with all the charm and + wisdom of a well-told tale of personal experience. + </p> + <p> + For Englishmen especially, of all the races of the earth, a task, any + task, undertaken in an adventurous spirit acquires the merit of romance. + But the critics as a rule exhibit but little of an adventurous spirit. + They take risks, of course—one can hardly live without that. The + daily bread is served out to us (however sparingly) with a pinch of salt. + Otherwise one would get sick of the diet one prays for, and that would be + not only improper, but impious. From impiety of that or any other kind—save + us! An ideal of reserved manner, adhered to from a sense of proprieties, + from shyness, perhaps, or caution, or simply from weariness, induces, I + suspect, some writers of criticism to conceal the adventurous side of + their calling, and then the criticism becomes a mere “notice,” as it were, + the relation of a journey where nothing but the distances and the geology + of a new country should be set down; the glimpses of strange beasts, the + dangers of flood and field, the hairbreadth escapes, and the sufferings + (oh, the sufferings, too! I have no doubt of the sufferings) of the + traveller being carefully kept out; no shady spot, no fruitful plant being + ever mentioned either; so that the whole performance looks like a mere + feat of agility on the part of a trained pen running in a desert. A cruel + spectacle—a most deplorable adventure! “Life,” in the words of an + immortal thinker of, I should say, bucolic origin, but whose perishable + name is lost to the worship of posterity—“life is not all beer and + skittles.” Neither is the writing of novels. It isn't, really. Je vous + donne ma parole d'honneur that it—is—not. Not <i>all</i>. I am + thus emphatic because some years ago, I remember, the daughter of a + general. . . . + </p> + <p> + Sudden revelations of the profane world must have come now and then to + hermits in their cells, to the cloistered monks of middle ages, to lonely + sages, men of science, reformers; the revelations of the world's + superficial judgment, shocking to the souls concentrated upon their own + bitter labour in the cause of sanctity, or of knowledge, or of temperance, + let us say, or of art, if only the art of cracking jokes or playing the + flute. And thus this general's daughter came to me—or I should say + one of the general's daughters did. There were three of these bachelor + ladies, of nicely graduated ages, who held a neighbouring farm-house in a + united and more or less military occupation. The eldest warred against the + decay of manners in the village children, and executed frontal attacks + upon the village mothers for the conquest of courtesies. It sounds futile, + but it was really a war for an idea. The second skirmished and scouted all + over the country; and it was that one who pushed a reconnaissance right to + my very table—I mean the one who wore stand-up collars. + </p> + <p> + She was really calling upon my wife in the soft spirit of afternoon + friendliness, but with her usual martial determination. She marched into + my room swinging her stick . . . but no—I mustn't exaggerate. It is + not my specialty. I am not a humoristic writer. In all soberness, then, + all I am certain of is that she had a stick to swing. + </p> + <p> + No ditch or wall encompassed my abode. The window was open; the door, too, + stood open to that best friend of my work, the warm, still sunshine of the + wide fields. They lay around me infinitely helpful, but, truth to say, I + had not known for weeks whether the sun shone upon the earth and whether + the stars above still moved on their appointed courses. I was just then + giving up some days of my allotted span to the last chapters of the novel + “Nostromo,” a tale of an imaginary (but true) seaboard, which is still + mentioned now and again, and indeed kindly, sometimes in connection with + the word “failure” and sometimes in conjunction with the word + “astonishing.” I have no opinion on this discrepancy. It's the sort of + difference that can never be settled. All I know is that, for twenty + months, neglecting the common joys of life that fall to the lot of the + humblest on this earth, I had, like the prophet of old, “wrestled with the + Lord” for my creation, for the headlands of the coast, for the darkness of + the Placid Gulf, the light on the snows, the clouds in the sky, and for + the breath of life that had to be blown into the shapes of men and women, + of Latin and Saxon, of Jew and Gentile. These are, perhaps, strong words, + but it is difficult to characterize other wise the intimacy and the strain + of a creative effort in which mind and will and conscience are engaged to + the full, hour after hour, day after day, away from the world, and to the + exclusion of all that makes life really lovable and gentle—something + for which a material parallel can only be found in the everlasting sombre + stress of the westward winter passage round Cape Horn. For that, too, is + the wrestling of men with the might of their Creator, in a great isolation + from the world, without the amenities and consolations of life, a lonely + struggle under a sense of overmatched littleness, for no reward that could + be adequate, but for the mere winning of a longitude. Yet a certain + longitude, once won, cannot be disputed. The sun and the stars and the + shape of your earth are the witnesses of your gain; whereas a handful of + pages, no matter how much you have made them your own, are at best but an + obscure and questionable spoil. Here they are. “Failure”—“Astonishing”: + take your choice; or perhaps both, or neither—a mere rustle and + flutter of pieces of paper settling down in the night, and + undistinguishable, like the snowflakes of a great drift destined to melt + away in sunshine. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do?” + </p> + <p> + It was the greeting of the general's daughter. I had heard nothing—no + rustle, no footsteps. I had felt only a moment before a sort of + premonition of evil; I had the sense of an inauspicious presence—just + that much warning and no more; and then came the sound of the voice and + the jar as of a terrible fall from a great height—a fall, let us + say, from the highest of the clouds floating in gentle procession over the + fields in the faint westerly air of that July afternoon. I picked myself + up quickly, of course; in other words, I jumped up from my chair stunned + and dazed, every nerve quivering with the pain of being uprooted out of + one world and flung down into another—perfectly civil. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! How do you do? Won't you sit down?” + </p> + <p> + That's what I said. This horrible but, I assure you, perfectly true + reminiscence tells you more than a whole volume of confessions a la Jean + Jacques Rousseau would do. Observe! I didn't howl at her, or start + upsetting furniture, or throw myself on the floor and kick, or allow myself + to hint in any other way at the appalling magnitude of the disaster. The + whole world of Costaguana (the country, you may remember, of my seaboard + tale), men, women, headlands, houses, mountains, town, campo (there was + not a single brick, stone, or grain of sand of its soil I had not placed + in position with my own hands); all the history, geography, politics, + finance; the wealth of Charles Gould's silver-mine, and the splendour of + the magnificent Capataz de Cargadores, whose name, cried out in the night + (Dr. Monygham heard it pass over his head—in Linda Viola's voice), + dominated even after death the dark gulf containing his conquests of + treasure and love—all that had come down crashing about my ears. + </p> + <p> + I felt I could never pick up the pieces—and in that very moment I + was saying, “Won't you sit down?” + </p> + <p> + The sea is strong medicine. Behold what the quarter-deck training even in + a merchant ship will do! This episode should give you a new view of the + English and Scots seamen (a much-caricatured folk) who had the last say in + the formation of my character. One is nothing if not modest, but in this + disaster I think I have done some honour to their simple teaching. “Won't + you sit down?” Very fair; very fair, indeed. She sat down. Her amused + glance strayed all over the room. + </p> + <p> + There were pages of MS. on the table and under the table, a batch of typed + copy on a chair, single leaves had fluttered away into distant corners; + there were there living pages, pages scored and wounded, dead pages that + would be burned at the end of the day—the litter of a cruel + battle-field, of a long, long, and desperate fray. Long! I suppose I went + to bed sometimes, and got up the same number of times. Yes, I suppose I + slept, and ate the food put before me, and talked connectedly to my + household on suitable occasions. But I had never been aware of the even + flow of daily life, made easy and noiseless for me by a silent, watchful, + tireless affection. Indeed, it seemed to me that I had been sitting at + that table surrounded by the litter of a desperate fray for days and + nights on end. It seemed so, because of the intense weariness of which + that interruption had made me aware—the awful disenchantment of a + mind realizing suddenly the futility of an enormous task, joined to a + bodily fatigue such as no ordinary amount of fairly heavy physical labour + could ever account for. I have carried bags of wheat on my back, bent + almost double under a ship's deck-beams, from six in the morning till six + in the evening (with an hour and a half off for meals), so I ought to + know. + </p> + <p> + And I love letters. I am jealous of their honour and concerned for the + dignity and comeliness of their service. I was, most likely, the only + writer that neat lady had ever caught in the exercise of his craft, and it + distressed me not to be able to remember when it was that I dressed myself + last, and how. No doubt that would be all right in essentials. The fortune + of the house included a pair of gray-blue watchful eyes that would see to + that. But I felt, somehow, as grimy as a Costaguana lepero after a day's + fighting in the streets, rumpled all over and dishevelled down to my very + heels. And I am afraid I blinked stupidly. All this was bad for the honour + of letters and the dignity of their service. Seen indistinctly through the + dust of my collapsed universe, the good lady glanced about the room with a + slightly amused serenity. And she was smiling. What on earth was she + smiling at? She remarked casually: + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I interrupted you.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all.” + </p> + <p> + She accepted the denial in perfect good faith. And it was strictly true. + Interrupted—indeed! She had robbed me of at least twenty lives, each + infinitely more poignant and real than her own, because informed with + passion, possessed of convictions, involved in great affairs created out + of my own substance for an anxiously meditated end. + </p> + <p> + She remained silent for a while, then said, with a last glance all round + at the litter of the fray: + </p> + <p> + “And you sit like this here writing your—your . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I—what? Oh, yes! I sit here all day.” + </p> + <p> + “It must be perfectly delightful.” + </p> + <p> + I suppose that, being no longer very young, I might have been on the verge + of having a stroke; but she had left her dog in the porch, and my boy's + dog, patrolling the field in front, had espied him from afar. He came on + straight and swift like a cannon-ball, and the noise of the fight, which + burst suddenly upon our ears, was more than enough to scare away a fit of + apoplexy. We went out hastily and separated the gallant animals. Afterward + I told the lady where she would find my wife—just round the corner, + under the trees. She nodded and went off with her dog, leaving me appalled + before the death and devastation she had lightly made—and with the + awfully instructive sound of the word “delightful” lingering in my ears. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, later on, I duly escorted her to the field gate. I wanted to + be civil, of course (what are twenty lives in a mere novel that one should + be rude to a lady on their account?), but mainly, to adopt the good, sound + Ollendorffian style, because I did not want the dog of the general's + daughter to fight again (encore) with the faithful dog of my infant son + (mon petit garcon).—Was I afraid that the dog of the general's + daughter would be able to overcome (<i>vaincre</i>) the dog of my child?—No, + I was not afraid. . . . But away with the Ollendorff method. However + appropriate and seemingly unavoidable when I touch upon anything + appertaining to the lady, it is most unsuitable to the origin, character, + and history of the dog; for the dog was the gift to the child from a man + for whom words had anything but an Ollendorffian value, a man almost + childlike in the impulsive movements of his untutored genius, the most + single-minded of verbal impressionists, using his great gifts of straight + feeling and right expression with a fine sincerity and a strong if, + perhaps, not fully conscious conviction. His art did not obtain, I fear, + all the credit its unsophisticated inspiration deserved. I am alluding to + the late Stephen Crane, the author of “The Red Badge of Courage,” a work + of imagination which found its short moment of celebrity in the last + decade of the departed century. Other books followed. Not many. He had not + the time. It was an individual and complete talent which obtained but a + grudging, somewhat supercilious recognition from the world at large. For + himself one hesitates to regret his early death. Like one of the men in + his “Open Boat,” one felt that he was of those whom fate seldom allows to + make a safe landing after much toil and bitterness at the oar. I confess + to an abiding affection for that energetic, slight, fragile, intensely + living and transient figure. He liked me, even before we met, on the + strength of a page or two of my writing, and after we had met I am glad to + think he liked me still. He used to point out to me with great + earnestness, and even with some severity, that “a boy <i>ought</i> to have + a dog.” I suspect that he was shocked at my neglect of parental duties. + </p> + <p> + Ultimately it was he who provided the dog. Shortly afterward, one day, + after playing with the child on the rug for an hour or so with the most + intense absorption, he raised his head and declared firmly, “I shall teach + your boy to ride.” That was not to be. He was not given the time. + </p> + <p> + But here is the dog—an old dog now. Broad and low on his bandy paws, + with a black head on a white body and a ridiculous black spot at the other + end of him, he provokes, when he walks abroad, smiles not altogether + unkind. Grotesque and engaging in the whole of his appearance, his usual + attitudes are meek, but his temperament discloses itself unexpectedly + pugnacious in the presence of his kind. As he lies in the firelight, his + head well up, and a fixed, far away gaze directed at the shadows of the + room, he achieves a striking nobility of pose in the calm consciousness of + an unstained life. He has brought up one baby, and now, after seeing his + first charge off to school, he is bringing up another with the same + conscientious devotion, but with a more deliberate gravity of manner, the + sign of greater wisdom and riper experience, but also of rheumatism, I + fear. From the morning bath to the evening ceremonies of the cot, you + attend the little two-legged creature of your adoption, being yourself + treated in the exercise of your duties with every possible regard, with + infinite consideration, by every person in the house—even as I + myself am treated; only you deserve it more. + </p> + <p> + The general's daughter would tell you that it must be “perfectly + delightful.” + </p> + <p> + Aha! old dog. She never heard you yelp with acute pain (it's that poor + left ear) the while, with incredible self-command, you preserve a rigid + immobility for fear of overturning the little two-legged creature. She has + never seen your resigned smile when the little two-legged creature, + interrogated, sternly, “What are you doing to the good dog?” answers, with + a wide, innocent stare: “Nothing. Only loving him, mamma dear!” + </p> + <p> + The general's daughter does not know the secret terms of self-imposed + tasks, good dog, the pain that may lurk in the very rewards of rigid + self-command. But we have lived together many years. We have grown older, + too; and though our work is not quite done yet we may indulge now and then + in a little introspection before the fire—meditate on the art of + bringing up babies and on the perfect delight of writing tales where so + many lives come and go at the cost of one which slips imperceptibly away. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI + </h2> + <p> + In the retrospect of a life which had, besides its preliminary stage of + childhood and early youth, two distinct developments, and even two + distinct elements, such as earth and water, for its successive scenes, a + certain amount of naiveness is unavoidable. I am conscious of it in these + pages. This remark is put forward in no apologetic spirit. As years go by + and the number of pages grows steadily, the feeling grows upon one, too, + that one can write only for friends. Then why should one put them to the + necessity of protesting (as a friend would do) that no apology is + necessary, or put, perchance, into their heads the doubt of one's + discretion? So much as to the care due to those friends whom a word here, + a line there, a fortunate page of just feeling in the right place, some + happy simplicity, or even some lucky subtlety, has drawn from the great + multitude of fellow beings even as a fish is drawn from the depths of the + sea. Fishing is notoriously (I am talking now of the deep sea) a matter of + luck. As to one's enemies, they will take care of themselves. + </p> + <p> + There is a gentleman, for instance, who, metaphorically speaking, jumps + upon me with both feet. This image has no grace, but it is exceedingly apt + to the occasion—to the several occasions. I don't know precisely how + long he has been indulging in that intermittent exercise, whose seasons + are ruled by the custom of the publishing trade. Somebody pointed him out + (in printed shape, of course) to my attention some time ago, and + straightway I experienced a sort of reluctant affection for that robust + man. He leaves not a shred of my substance untrodden: for the writer's + substance is his writing; the rest of him is but a vain shadow, cherished + or hated on uncritical grounds. Not a shred! Yet the sentiment owned to is + not a freak of affectation or perversity. It has a deeper, and, I venture + to think, a more estimable origin than the caprice of emotional + lawlessness. It is, indeed, lawful, in so much that it is given + (reluctantly) for a consideration, for several considerations. There is + that robustness, for instance, so often the sign of good moral balance. + That's a consideration. It is not, indeed, pleasant to be stamped upon, + but the very thoroughness of the operation, implying not only a careful + reading, but some real insight into work whose qualities and defects, + whatever they may be, are not so much on the surface, is something to be + thankful for in view of the fact that it may happen to one's work to be + condemned without being read at all. This is the most fatuous adventure + that can well happen to a writer venturing his soul among criticisms. It + can do one no harm, of course, but it is disagreeable. It is disagreeable + in the same way as discovering a three-card-trick man among a decent lot + of folk in a third-class compartment. The open impudence of the whole + transaction, appealing insidiously to the folly and credulity of mankind, + the brazen, shameless patter, proclaiming the fraud openly while insisting + on the fairness of the game, give one a feeling of sickening disgust. The + honest violence of a plain man playing a fair game fairly—even if he + means to knock you over—may appear shocking, but it remains within + the pale of decency. Damaging as it may be, it is in no sense offensive. + One may well feel some regard for honesty, even if practised upon one's + own vile body. But it is very obvious that an enemy of that sort will not + be stayed by explanations or placated by apologies. Were I to advance the + plea of youth in excuse of the naiveness to be found in these pages, he + would be likely to say “Bosh!” in a column and a half of fierce print. Yet + a writer is no older than his first published book, and, not withstanding + the vain appearances of decay which attend us in this transitory life, I + stand here with the wreath of only fifteen short summers on my brow. + </p> + <p> + With the remark, then, that at such tender age some naiveness of feeling + and expression is excusable, I proceed to admit that, upon the whole, my + previous state of existence was not a good equipment for a literary life. + Perhaps I should not have used the word literary. That word presupposes an + intimacy of acquaintance with letters, a turn of mind, and a manner of + feeling to which I dare lay no claim. I only love letters; but the love of + letters does not make a literary man, any more than the love of the sea + makes a seaman. And it is very possible, too, that I love the letters in + the same way a literary man may love the sea he looks at from the shore—a + scene of great endeavour and of great achievements changing the face of + the world, the great open way to all sorts of undiscovered countries. No, + perhaps I had better say that the life at sea—and I don't mean a + mere taste of it, but a good broad span of years, something that really + counts as real service—is not, upon the whole, a good equipment for + a writing life. God forbid, though, that I should be thought of as denying + my masters of the quarter-deck. I am not capable of that sort of apostasy. + I have confessed my attitude of piety toward their shades in three or four + tales, and if any man on earth more than another needs to be true to + himself as he hopes to be saved, it is certainly the writer of fiction. + </p> + <p> + What I meant to say, simply, is that the quarter-deck training does not + prepare one sufficiently for the reception of literary criticism. Only + that, and no more. But this defect is not without gravity. If it be + permissible to twist, invert, adapt (and spoil) Mr. Anatole France's + definition of a good critic, then let us say that the good author is he + who contemplates without marked joy or excessive sorrow the adventures of + his soul among criticisms. Far be from me the intention to mislead an + attentive public into the belief that there is no criticism at sea. That + would be dishonest, and even impolite. Everything can be found at sea, + according to the spirit of your quest—strife, peace, romance, + naturalism of the most pronounced kind, ideals, boredom, disgust, + inspiration—and every conceivable opportunity, including the + opportunity to make a fool of yourself, exactly as in the pursuit of + literature. But the quarter-deck criticism is somewhat different from + literary criticism. This much they have in common, that before the one and + the other the answering back, as a general rule, does not pay. + </p> + <p> + Yes, you find criticism at sea, and even appreciation—I tell you + everything is to be found on salt water—criticism generally + impromptu, and always <i>viva voce</i>, which is the outward, obvious + difference from the literary operation of that kind, with consequent + freshness and vigour which may be lacking in the printed word. With + appreciation, which comes at the end, when the critic and the criticised + are about to part, it is otherwise. The sea appreciation of one's humble + talents has the permanency of the written word, seldom the charm of + variety, is formal in its phrasing. There the literary master has the + superiority, though he, too, can in effect but say—and often says it + in the very phrase—“I can highly recommend.” Only usually he uses + the word “We,” there being some occult virtue in the first person plural + which makes it specially fit for critical and royal declarations. I have a + small handful of these sea appreciations, signed by various masters, + yellowing slowly in my writing-table's left hand drawer, rustling under my + reverent touch, like a handful of dry leaves plucked for a tender memento + from the tree of knowledge. Strange! It seems that it is for these few + bits of paper, headed by the names of a few Scots and English shipmasters, + that I have faced the astonished indignations, the mockeries, and the + reproaches of a sort hard to bear for a boy of fifteen; that I have been + charged with the want of patriotism, the want of sense, and the want of + heart, too; that I went through agonies of self-conflict and shed secret + tears not a few, and had the beauties of the Furca Pass spoiled for me, + and have been called an “incorrigible Don Quixote,” in allusion to the + book-born madness of the knight. For that spoil! They rustle, those bits + of paper—some dozen of them in all. In that faint, ghostly sound + there live the memories of twenty years, the voices of rough men now no + more, the strong voice of the everlasting winds, and the whisper of a + mysterious spell, the murmur of the great sea, which must have somehow + reached my inland cradle and entered my unconscious ear, like that formula + of Mohammedan faith the Mussulman father whispers into the ear of his + new-born infant, making him one of the faithful almost with his first + breath. I do not know whether I have been a good seaman, but I know I have + been a very faithful one. And, after all, there is that handful of + “characters” from various ships to prove that all these years have not + been altogether a dream. There they are, brief, and monotonous in tone, + but as suggestive bits of writing to me as any inspired page to be found + in literature. But then, you see, I have been called romantic. Well, that + can't be helped. But stay. I seem to remember that I have been called a + realist, also. And as that charge, too, can be made out, let us try to + live up to it, at whatever cost, for a change. With this end in view, I + will confide to you coyly, and only because there is no one about to see + my blushes by the light of the midnight lamp, that these suggestive bits + of quarter-deck appreciation, one and all, contain the words “strictly + sober.” + </p> + <p> + Did I overhear a civil murmur, “That's very gratifying, to be sure?” Well, + yes, it is gratifying—thank you. It is at least as gratifying to be + certified sober as to be certified romantic, though such certificates + would not qualify one for the secretaryship of a temperance association or + for the post of official troubadour to some lordly democratic institution + such as the London County Council, for instance. The above prosaic + reflection is put down here only in order to prove the general sobriety of + my judgment in mundane affairs. I make a point of it because a couple of + years ago, a certain short story of mine being published in a French + translation, a Parisian critic—I am almost certain it was M. Gustave + Kahn in the “Gil Blas”—giving me a short notice, summed up his rapid + impression of the writer's quality in the words <i>un puissant reveur</i>. + So be it! Who could cavil at the words of a friendly reader? Yet perhaps + not such an unconditional dreamer as all that. I will make bold to say + that neither at sea nor ashore have I ever lost the sense of + responsibility. There is more than one sort of intoxication. 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. It is but a maudlin and indecent verity that comes out + through the strength of wine. I have tried to be a sober worker all my + life—all my two lives. I did so from taste, no doubt, having an + instinctive horror of losing my sense of full self-possession, but also + from artistic conviction. Yet there are so many pitfalls on each side of + the true path that, having gone some way, and feeling a little battered + and weary, as a middle-aged traveller will from the mere daily + difficulties of the march, I ask myself whether I have kept always, always + faithful to that sobriety where in there is power and truth and peace. + </p> + <p> + As to my sea sobriety, that is quite properly certified under the + sign-manual of several trustworthy shipmasters of some standing in their + time. I seem to hear your polite murmur that “Surely this might have been + taken for granted.” Well, no. It might not have been. That August + academical body, the Marine Department of the Board of Trade, takes + nothing for granted in the granting of its learned degrees. By its + regulations issued under the first Merchant Shipping Act, the very word <i>sober</i> + must be written, or a whole sackful, a ton, a mountain of the most + enthusiastic appreciation will avail you nothing. The door of the + examination rooms shall remain closed to your tears and entreaties. The + most fanatical advocate of temperance could not be more pitilessly fierce + in his rectitude than the Marine Department of the Board of Trade. As I + have been face to face at various times with all the examiners of the Port + of London in my generation, there can be no doubt as to the force and the + continuity of my abstemiousness. Three of them were examiners in + seamanship, and it was my fate to be delivered into the hands of each of + them at proper intervals of sea service. The first of all, tall, spare, + with a perfectly white head and mustache, a quiet, kindly manner, and an + air of benign intelligence, must, I am forced to conclude, have been + unfavourably impressed by something in my appearance. His old, thin hands + loosely clasped resting on his crossed legs, he began by an elementary + question, in a mild voice, and went on, went on. . . . It lasted for + hours, for hours. Had I been a strange microbe with potentialities of + deadly mischief to the Merchant Service I could not have been submitted to + a more microscopic examination. Greatly reassured by his apparent + benevolence, I had been at first very alert in my answers. But at length + the feeling of my brain getting addled crept upon me. And still the + passionless process went on, with a sense of untold ages having been spent + already on mere preliminaries. Then I got frightened. I was not frightened + of being plucked; that eventuality did not even present itself to my mind. + It was something much more serious and weird. “This ancient person,” I + said to myself, terrified, “is so near his grave that he must have lost + all notion of time. He is considering this examination in terms of + eternity. It is all very well for him. His race is run. But I may find + myself coming out of this room into the world of men a stranger, + friendless, forgotten by my very landlady, even were I able after this + endless experience to remember the way to my hired home.” This statement + is not so much of a verbal exaggeration as may be supposed. Some very + queer thoughts passed through my head while I was considering my answers; + thoughts which had nothing to do with seamanship, nor yet with anything + reasonable known to this earth. I verily believe that at times I was + light-headed in a sort of languid way. At last there fell a silence, and + that, too, seemed to last for ages, while, bending over his desk, the + examiner wrote out my pass-slip slowly with a noiseless pen. He extended + the scrap of paper to me without a word, inclined his white head gravely + to my parting bow. . . . + </p> + <p> + When I got out of the room I felt limply flat, like a squeezed lemon, and + the doorkeeper in his glass cage, where I stopped to get my hat and tip + him a shilling, said: + </p> + <p> + “Well! I thought you were never coming out.” + </p> + <p> + “How long have I been in there?” I asked, faintly. + </p> + <p> + He pulled out his watch. + </p> + <p> + “He kept you, sir, just under three hours. I don't think this ever + happened with any of the gentlemen before.” + </p> + <p> + It was only when I got out of the building that I began to walk on air. + And the human animal being averse from change and timid before the + unknown, I said to myself that I really would not mind being examined by + the same man on a future occasion. But when the time of ordeal came round + again the doorkeeper let me into another room, with the now familiar + paraphernalia of models of ships and tackle, a board for signals on the + wall, a big, long table covered with official forms and having an unrigged + mast fixed to the edge. The solitary tenant was unknown to me by sight, + though not by reputation, which was simply execrable. Short and sturdy, as + far as I could judge, clad in an old brown morning-suit, he sat leaning on + his elbow, his hand shading his eyes, and half averted from the chair I + was to occupy on the other side of the table. He was motionless, + mysterious, remote, enigmatical, with something mournful, too, in the + pose, like that statue of Giugliano (I think) de Medici shading his face + on the tomb by Michael Angelo, though, of course, he was far, far from + being beautiful. He began by trying to make me talk nonsense. But I had + been warned of that fiendish trait, and contradicted him with great + assurance. After a while he left off. So far good. But his immobility, the + thick elbow on the table, the abrupt, unhappy voice, the shaded and + averted face grew more and more impressive. He kept inscrutably silent for + a moment, and then, placing me in a ship of a certain size, at sea, under + conditions of weather, season, locality, etc.—all very clear and + precise—ordered me to execute a certain manoeuvre. Before I was half + through with it he did some material damage to the ship. Directly I had + grappled with the difficulty he caused another to present itself, and when + that, too, was met he stuck another ship before me, creating a very + dangerous situation. I felt slightly outraged by this ingenuity in piling + trouble upon a man. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't have got into that mess,” I suggested, mildly. “I could have + seen that ship before.” + </p> + <p> + He never stirred the least bit. + </p> + <p> + “No, you couldn't. The weather's thick.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I didn't know,” I apologized blankly. + </p> + <p> + I suppose that after all I managed to stave off the smash with sufficient + approach to verisimilitude, and the ghastly business went on. You must + understand that the scheme of the test he was applying to me was, I + gathered, a homeward passage—the sort of passage I would not wish to + my bitterest enemy. That imaginary ship seemed to labour under a most + comprehensive curse. It's no use enlarging on these never-ending + misfortunes; suffice it to say that long before the end I would have + welcomed with gratitude an opportunity to exchange into the Flying + Dutchman. Finally he shoved me into the North Sea (I suppose) and provided + me with a lee shore with outlying sand-banks—the Dutch coast, + presumably. Distance, eight miles. The evidence of such implacable + animosity deprived me of speech for quite half a minute. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said—for our pace had been very smart, indeed, till then. + </p> + <p> + “I will have to think a little, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Doesn't look as if there were much time to think,” he muttered, + sardonically, from under his hand. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” I said, with some warmth. “Not on board a ship, I could see. + But so many accidents have happened that I really can't remember what + there's left for me to work with.” + </p> + <p> + Still half averted, and with his eyes concealed, he made unexpectedly a + grunting remark. + </p> + <p> + “You've done very well.” + </p> + <p> + “Have I the two anchors at the bow, sir?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + I prepared myself then, as a last hope for the ship, to let them both go + in the most effectual manner, when his infernal system of testing + resourcefulness came into play again. + </p> + <p> + “But there's only one cable. You've lost the other.” + </p> + <p> + It was exasperating. + </p> + <p> + “Then I would back them, if I could, and tail the heaviest hawser on board + on the end of the chain before letting go, and if she parted from that, + which is quite likely, I would just do nothing. She would have to go.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing more to do, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. I could do no more.” + </p> + <p> + He gave a bitter half-laugh. + </p> + <p> + “You could always say your prayers.” + </p> + <p> + He got up, stretched himself, and yawned slightly. It was a sallow, + strong, unamiable face. He put me, in a surly, bored fashion, through the + usual questions as to lights and signals, and I escaped from the room + thank fully—passed! Forty minutes! And again I walked on air along + Tower Hill, where so many good men had lost their heads because, I + suppose, they were not resourceful enough to save them. And in my heart of + hearts I had no objection to meeting that examiner once more when the + third and last ordeal became due in another year or so. I even hoped I + should. I knew the worst of him now, and forty minutes is not an + unreasonable time. Yes, I distinctly hoped. . . . + </p> + <p> + But not a bit of it. When I presented my self to be examined for master + the examiner who received me was short, plump, with a round, soft face in + gray, fluffy whiskers, and fresh, loquacious lips. + </p> + <p> + He commenced operations with an easy going “Let's see. H'm. Suppose you + tell me all you know of charter-parties.” He kept it up in that style all + through, wandering off in the shape of comment into bits out of his own + life, then pulling himself up short and returning to the business in hand. + It was very interesting. “What's your idea of a jury-rudder now?” he + queried, suddenly, at the end of an instructive anecdote bearing upon a + point of stowage. + </p> + <p> + I warned him that I had no experience of a lost rudder at sea, and gave + him two classical examples of makeshifts out of a text-book. In exchange + he described to me a jury-rudder he had invented himself years before, + when in command of a three-thousand-ton steamer. It was, I declare, the + cleverest contrivance imaginable. “May be of use to you some day,” he + concluded. “You will go into steam presently. Everybody goes into steam.” + </p> + <p> + There he was wrong. I never went into steam—not really. If I only + live long enough I shall become a bizarre relic of a dead barbarism, a + sort of monstrous antiquity, the only seaman of the dark ages who had + never gone into steam—not really. + </p> + <p> + Before the examination was over he imparted to me a few interesting + details of the transport service in the time of the Crimean War. + </p> + <p> + “The use of wire rigging became general about that time, too,” he + observed. “I was a very young master then. That was before you were born.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. I am of the year of 1857.” + </p> + <p> + “The Mutiny year,” he commented, as if to himself, adding in a louder tone + that his ship happened then to be in the Gulf of Bengal, employed under a + government charter. + </p> + <p> + Clearly the transport service had been the making of this examiner, who so + unexpectedly had given me an insight into his existence, awakening in me + the sense of the continuity of that sea life into which I had stepped from + outside; giving a touch of human intimacy to the machinery of official + relations. I felt adopted. His experience was for me, too, as though he + had been an ancestor. + </p> + <p> + Writing my long name (it has twelve letters) with laborious care on the + slip of blue paper, he remarked: + </p> + <p> + “You are of Polish extraction.” + </p> + <p> + “Born there, sir.” + </p> + <p> + He laid down the pen and leaned back to look at me as it were for the + first time. + </p> + <p> + “Not many of your nationality in our service, I should think. I never + remember meeting one either before or after I left the sea. Don't remember + ever hearing of one. An inland people, aren't you?” + </p> + <p> + I said yes—very much so. We were remote from the sea not only by + situation, but also from a complete absence of indirect association, not + being a commercial nation at all, but purely agricultural. He made then + the quaint reflection that it was “a long way for me to come out to begin + a sea life”; as if sea life were not precisely a life in which one goes a + long way from home. + </p> + <p> + I told him, smiling, that no doubt I could have found a ship much nearer + my native place, but I had thought to myself that if I was to be a seaman, + then I would be a British seaman and no other. It was a matter of + deliberate choice. + </p> + <p> + He nodded slightly at that; and, as he kept on looking at me + interrogatively, I enlarged a little, confessing that I had spent a little + time on the way in the Mediterranean and in the West Indies. I did not + want to present myself to the British Merchant Service in an altogether + green state. It was no use telling him that my mysterious vocation was so + strong that my very wild oats had to be sown at sea. It was the exact + truth, but he would not have understood the somewhat exceptional + psychology of my sea-going, I fear. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you've never come across one of your countrymen at sea. Have + you, now?” + </p> + <p> + I admitted I never had. The examiner had given himself up to the spirit of + gossiping idleness. For myself, I was in no haste to leave that room. Not + in the least. The era of examinations was over. I would never again see + that friendly man who was a professional ancestor, a sort of grandfather + in the craft. Moreover, I had to wait till he dismissed me, and of that + there was no sign. As he remained silent, looking at me, I added: + </p> + <p> + “But I have heard of one, some years ago. He seems to have been a boy + serving his time on board a Liverpool ship, if I am not mistaken.” + </p> + <p> + “What was his name?” + </p> + <p> + I told him. + </p> + <p> + “How did you say that?” he asked, puckering up his eyes at the uncouth + sound. + </p> + <p> + I repeated the name very distinctly. + </p> + <p> + “How do you spell it?” + </p> + <p> + I told him. He moved his head at the impracticable nature of that name, + and observed: + </p> + <p> + “It's quite as long as your own—isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + There was no hurry. I had passed for master, and I had all the rest of my + life before me to make the best of it. That seemed a long time. I went + leisurely through a small mental calculation, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Not quite. Shorter by two letters, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it?” The examiner pushed the signed blue slip across the table to me, + and rose from his chair. Somehow this seemed a very abrupt ending of our + relations, and I felt almost sorry to part from that excellent man, who + was master of a ship before the whisper of the sea had reached my cradle. + He offered me his hand and wished me well. He even made a few steps toward + the door with me, and ended with good-natured advice. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what may be your plans, but you ought to go into steam. When + a man has got his master's certificate it's the proper time. If I were you + I would go into steam.” + </p> + <p> + I thanked him, and shut the door behind me definitely on the era of + examinations. But that time I did not walk on air, as on the first two + occasions. I walked across the hill of many beheadings with measured + steps. It was a fact, I said to myself, that I was now a British master + mariner beyond a doubt. It was not that I had an exaggerated sense of that + very modest achievement, with which, however, luck, opportunity, or any + extraneous influence could have had nothing to do. That fact, satisfactory + and obscure in itself, had for me a certain ideal significance. It was an + answer to certain outspoken scepticism and even to some not very kind + aspersions. I had vindicated myself from what had been cried upon as a + stupid obstinacy or a fantastic caprice. I don't mean to say that a whole + country had been convulsed by my desire to go to sea. But for a boy + between fifteen and sixteen, sensitive enough, in all conscience, the + commotion of his little world had seemed a very considerable thing indeed. + So considerable that, absurdly enough, the echoes of it linger to this + day. I catch myself in hours of solitude and retrospect meeting arguments + and charges made thirty-five years ago by voices now forever still; + finding things to say that an assailed boy could not have found, simply + because of the mysteriousness of his impulses to himself. I understood no + more than the people who called upon me to explain myself. There was no + precedent. I verily believe mine was the only case of a boy of my + nationality and antecedents taking a, so to speak, standing jump out of + his racial surroundings and associations. For you must understand that + there was no idea of any sort of “career” in my call. Of Russia or Germany + there could be no question. The nationality, the antecedents, made it + impossible. The feeling against the Austrian service was not so strong, + and I dare say there would have been no difficulty in finding my way into + the Naval School at Pola. It would have meant six months' extra grinding + at German, perhaps; but I was not past the age of admission, and in other + respects I was well qualified. This expedient to palliate my folly was + thought of—but not by me. I must admit that in that respect my + negative was accepted at once. That order of feeling was comprehensible + enough to the most inimical of my critics. I was not called upon to offer + explanations; but the truth is that what I had in view was not a naval + career, but the sea. There seemed no way open to it but through France. I + had the language, at any rate, and of all the countries in Europe it is + with France that Poland has most connection. There were some facilities + for having me a little looked after, at first. Letters were being written, + answers were being received, arrangements were being made for my departure + for Marseilles, where an excellent fellow called Solary, got at in a roundabout fashion through various French channels, had promised good-naturedly + to put le jeune homme in the way of getting a decent ship for his first + start if he really wanted a taste of ce metier de chien. + </p> + <p> + I watched all these preparations gratefully, and kept my own counsel. But + what I told the last of my examiners was perfectly true. Already the + determined resolve that “if a seaman, then an English seaman” was + formulated in my head, though, of course, in the Polish language. I did + not know six words of English, and I was astute enough to understand that + it was much better to say nothing of my purpose. As it was I was already + looked upon as partly insane, at least by the more distant acquaintances. + The principal thing was to get away. I put my trust in the good-natured + Solary's very civil letter to my uncle, though I was shocked a little by + the phrase about the metier de chien. + </p> + <p> + This Solary (Baptistin), when I beheld him in the flesh, turned out a + quite young man, very good-looking, with a fine black, short beard, a + fresh complexion, and soft, merry black eyes. He was as jovial and good + natured as any boy could desire. I was still asleep in my room in a modest + hotel near the quays of the old port, after the fatigues of the journey + via Vienna, Zurich, Lyons, when he burst in, flinging the shutters open to + the sun of Provence and chiding me boisterously for lying abed. How + pleasantly he startled me by his noisy objurgations to be up and off + instantly for a “three years' campaign in the South Seas!” O magic words! + “<i>Une campagne de trois ans dans les mers du sud</i>”—that is the + French for a three years' deep-water voyage. + </p> + <p> + He gave me a delightful waking, and his friendliness was unwearied; but I + fear he did not enter upon the quest for a ship for me in a very solemn + spirit. He had been at sea himself, but had left off at the age of + twenty-five, finding he could earn his living on shore in a much more + agreeable manner. He was related to an incredible number of Marseilles + well-to-do families of a certain class. One of his uncles was a + ship-broker of good standing, with a large connection among English ships; + other relatives of his dealt in ships' stores, owned sail-lofts, sold + chains and anchors, were master-stevedores, calkers, shipwrights. + </p> + <p> + His grandfather (I think) was a dignitary of a kind, the Syndic of the + Pilots. I made acquaintances among these people, but mainly among the + pilots. The very first whole day I ever spent on salt water was by + invitation, in a big half-decked pilot-boat, cruising under close reefs on + the lookout, in misty, blowing weather, for the sails of ships and the + smoke of steamers rising out there, beyond the slim and tall Planier + lighthouse cutting the line of the wind-swept horizon with a white + perpendicular stroke. They were hospitable souls, these sturdy Provencal + seamen. Under the general designation of le petit ami de Baptistin I was + made the guest of the corporation of pilots, and had the freedom of their + boats night or day. And many a day and a night, too, did I spend cruising + with these rough, kindly men, under whose auspices my intimacy with the + sea began. Many a time “the little friend of Baptistin” had the hooded + cloak of the Mediterranean sailor thrown over him by their honest hands + while dodging at night under the lee of Chateau daft on the watch for the + lights of ships. Their sea tanned faces, whiskered or shaved, lean or + full, with the intent, wrinkled sea eyes of the pilot breed, and here and + there a thin gold hoop at the lobe of a hairy ear, bent over my sea + infancy. The first operation of seamanship I had an opportunity of + observing was the boarding of ships at sea, at all times, in all states of + the weather. They gave it to me to the full. And I have been invited to + sit in more than one tall, dark house of the old town at their hospitable + board, had the bouillabaisse ladled out into a thick plate by their + high-voiced, broad-browed wives, talked to their daughters—thick-set + girls, with pure profiles, glorious masses of black hair arranged with + complicated art, dark eyes, and dazzlingly white teeth. + </p> + <p> + I had also other acquaintances of quite a different sort. One of them, + Madame Delestang, an imperious, handsome lady in a statuesque style, would + carry me off now and then on the front seat of her carriage to the Prado, + at the hour of fashionable airing. She belonged to one of the old + aristocratic families in the south. In her haughty weariness she used to + make me think of Lady Dedlock in Dickens's “Bleak House,” a work of the + master for which I have such an admiration, or rather such an intense and + unreasoning affection, dating from the days of my childhood, that its very + weaknesses are more precious to me than the strength of other men's work. + I have read it innumerable times, both in Polish and in English; I have + read it only the other day, and, by a not very surprising inversion, the + Lady Dedlock of the book reminded me strongly of the “belle Madame + Delestang.” + </p> + <p> + Her husband (as I sat facing them both), with his thin, bony nose and a + perfectly bloodless, narrow physiognomy clamped together, as it were, by + short, formal side whiskers, had nothing of Sir Leicester Dedlock's “grand + air” and courtly solemnity. He belonged to the haute bourgeoisie only, and + was a banker, with whom a modest credit had been opened for my needs. He + was such an ardent—no, such a frozen-up, mummified Royalist that he + used in current conversation turns of speech contemporary, I should say, + with the good Henri Quatre; and when talking of money matters, reckoned + not in francs, like the common, godless herd of post-Revolutionary + Frenchmen, but in obsolete and forgotten ecus—ecus of all money + units in the world!—as though Louis Quatorze were still promenading + in royal splendour the gardens of Versailles, and Monsieur de Colbert busy + with the direction of maritime affairs. You must admit that in a banker of + the nineteenth century it was a quaint idiosyncrasy. Luckily, in the + counting-house (it occupied part of the ground floor of the Delestang town + residence, in a silent, shady street) the accounts were kept in modern + money, so that I never had any difficulty in making my wants known to the + grave, low-voiced, decorous, Legitimist (I suppose) clerks, sitting in the + perpetual gloom of heavily barred windows behind the sombre, ancient + counters, beneath lofty ceilings with heavily molded cornices. I always + felt, on going out, as though I had been in the temple of some very + dignified but completely temporal religion. And it was generally on these + occasions that under the great carriage gateway Lady Ded—I mean + Madame Delestang—catching sight of my raised hat, would beckon me + with an amiable imperiousness to the side of the carriage, and suggest + with an air of amused nonchalance, “<i>Venez donc faire un tour avec nous</i>,” + to which the husband would add an encouraging “<i>C'est ca. Allons, + montez, jeune homme</i>.” He questioned me some times, significantly but + with perfect tact and delicacy, as to the way I employed my time, and + never failed to express the hope that I wrote regularly to my “honoured + uncle.” I made no secret of the way I employed my time, and I rather fancy + that my artless tales of the pilots and so on entertained Madame Delestang + so far as that ineffable woman could be entertained by the prattle of a + youngster very full of his new experience among strange men and strange + sensations. She expressed no opinions, and talked to me very little; yet + her portrait hangs in the gallery of my intimate memories, fixed there by + a short and fleeting episode. One day, after putting me down at the corner + of a street, she offered me her hand, and detained me, by a slight + pressure, for a moment. While the husband sat motionless and looking + straight before him, she leaned forward in the carriage to say, with just + a shade of warning in her leisurely tone: “<i>Il faut, cependant, faire + attention a ne pas gater sa vie</i>.” I had never seen her face so close + to mine before. She made my heart beat and caused me to remain thoughtful + for a whole evening. Certainly one must, after all, take care not to spoil + one's life. But she did not know—nobody could know—how + impossible that danger seemed to me. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII + </h2> + <p> + Can the transports of first love be calmed, checked, turned to a cold + suspicion of the future by a grave quotation from a work on political + economy? I ask—is it conceivable? Is it possible? Would it be right? + With my feet on the very shores of the sea and about to embrace my + blue-eyed dream, what could a good-natured warning as to spoiling one's + life mean to my youthful passion? It was the most unexpected and the last, + too, of the many warnings I had received. It sounded to me very bizarre—and, + uttered as it was in the very presence of my enchantress, like the voice + of folly, the voice of ignorance. But I was not so callous or so stupid as + not to recognize there also the voice of kindness. And then the vagueness + of the warning—because what can be the meaning of the phrase: to + spoil one's life?—arrested one's attention by its air of wise + profundity. At any rate, as I have said before, the words of la belle + Madame Delestang made me thoughtful for a whole evening. I tried to + understand and tried in vain, not having any notion of life as an + enterprise that could be mismanaged. But I left off being thoughtful + shortly before midnight, at which hour, haunted by no ghosts of the past + and by no visions of the future, I walked down the quay of the Vieux Port + to join the pilot-boat of my friends. I knew where she would be waiting + for her crew, in the little bit of a canal behind the fort at the entrance + of the harbour. The deserted quays looked very white and dry in the + moonlight, and as if frostbound in the sharp air of that December night. A + prowler or two slunk by noiselessly; a custom-house guard, soldier-like, a + sword by his side, paced close under the bowsprits of the long row of + ships moored bows on opposite the long, slightly curved, continuous flat + wall of the tall houses that seemed to be one immense abandoned building + with innumerable windows shuttered closely. Only here and there a small, + dingy cafe for sailors cast a yellow gleam on the bluish sheen of the + flagstones. Passing by, one heard a deep murmur of voices inside—nothing + more. How quiet everything was at the end of the quays on the last night + on which I went out for a service cruise as a guest of the Marseilles + pilots! Not a footstep, except my own, not a sigh, not a whispering echo + of the usual revelry going on in the narrow, unspeakable lanes of the Old + Town reached my ear—and suddenly, with a terrific jingling rattle of + iron and glass, the omnibus of the Jolliette on its last journey swung + around the corner of the dead wall which faces across the paved road the + characteristic angular mass of the Fort St. Jean. Three horses trotted + abreast, with the clatter of hoofs on the granite setts, and the yellow, + uproarious machine jolted violently behind them, fantastic, lighted up, + perfectly empty, and with the driver apparently asleep on his swaying + perch above that amazing racket. I flattened myself against the wall and + gasped. It was a stunning experience. Then after staggering on a few paces + in the shadow of the fort, casting a darkness more intense than that of a + clouded night upon the canal, I saw the tiny light of a lantern standing + on the quay, and became aware of muffled figures making toward it from + various directions. Pilots of the Third Company hastening to embark. Too + sleepy to be talkative, they step on board in silence. But a few low + grunts and an enormous yawn are heard. Somebody even ejaculates: “<i>Ah! + Coquin de sort!</i>” and sighs wearily at his hard fate. + </p> + <p> + The patron of the Third Company (there were five companies of pilots at + that time, I believe) is the brother-in-law of my friend Solary + (Baptistin), a broad-shouldered, deep chested man of forty, with a keen, + frank glance which always seeks your eyes. + </p> + <p> + He greets me by a low, hearty “<i>He, l'ami. Comment va</i>?” With his + clipped mustache and massive open face, energetic and at the same time + placid in expression, he is a fine specimen of the southerner of the calm + type. For there is such a type in which the volatile southern passion is + transmuted into solid force. He is fair, but no one could mistake him for + a man of the north even by the dim gleam of the lantern standing on the + quay. He is worth a dozen of your ordinary Normans or Bretons, but then, + in the whole immense sweep of the Mediterranean shores, you could not find + half a dozen men of his stamp. + </p> + <p> + Standing by the tiller, he pulls out his watch from under a thick jacket + and bends his head over it in the light cast into the boat. Time's up. His + pleasant voice commands, in a quiet undertone, “<i>Larguez</i>.” A + suddenly projected arm snatches the lantern off the quay—and, warped + along by a line at first, then with the regular tug of four heavy sweeps + in the bow, the big half-decked boat full of men glides out of the black, + breathless shadow of the fort. The open water of the avant-port glitters + under the moon as if sown over with millions of sequins, and the long + white break water shines like a thick bar of solid silver. With a quick + rattle of blocks and one single silky swish, the sail is filled by a + little breeze keen enough to have come straight down from the frozen moon, + and the boat, after the clatter of the hauled-in sweeps, seems to stand at + rest, surrounded by a mysterious whispering so faint and unearthly that it + may be the rustling of the brilliant, overpowering moon rays breaking like + a rain-shower upon the hard, smooth, shadowless sea. + </p> + <p> + I may well remember that last night spent with the pilots of the Third + Company. I have known the spell of moonlight since, on various seas and + coasts—coasts of forests, of rocks, of sand dunes—but no magic + so perfect in its revelation of unsuspected character, as though one were + allowed to look upon the mystic nature of material things. For hours I + suppose no word was spoken in that boat. The pilots, seated in two rows + facing each other, dozed, with their arms folded and their chins resting + upon their breasts. They displayed a great variety of caps: cloth, wool, + leather, peaks, ear-flaps, tassels, with a picturesque round beret or two + pulled down over the brows; and one grandfather, with a shaved, bony face + and a great beak of a nose, had a cloak with a hood which made him look in + our midst like a cowled monk being carried off goodness knows where by + that silent company of seamen—quiet enough to be dead. + </p> + <p> + My fingers itched for the tiller, and in due course my friend, the patron, + surrendered it to me in the same spirit in which the family coachman lets + a boy hold the reins on an easy bit of road. + </p> + <p> + There was a great solitude around us; the islets ahead, Monte Cristo and + the Chateau daft in full light, seemed to float toward us—so steady, + so imperceptible was the progress of our boat. “Keep her in the furrow of + the moon,” the patron directed me, in a quiet murmur, sitting down + ponderously in the stern-sheets and reaching for his pipe. + </p> + <p> + The pilot station in weather like this was only a mile or two to the + westward of the islets; and presently, as we approached the spot, the boat + we were going to relieve swam into our view suddenly, on her way home, + cutting black and sinister into the wake of the moon under a sable wing, + while to them our sail must have been a vision of white and dazzling + radiance. Without altering the course a hair's breadth we slipped by each + other within an oar's length. A drawling, sardonic hail came out of her. + Instantly, as if by magic, our dozing pilots got on their feet in a body. + An incredible babel of bantering shouts burst out, a jocular, passionate, + voluble chatter, which lasted till the boats were stern to stern, theirs + all bright now, and, with a shining sail to our eyes, we turned all black + to their vision, and drew away from them under a sable wing. That + extraordinary uproar died away almost as suddenly as it had begun; first + one had enough of it and sat down, then another, then three or four + together; and when all had left off with mutters and growling half-laughs + the sound of hearty chuckling became audible, persistent, unnoticed. The + cowled grandfather was very much entertained somewhere within his hood. + </p> + <p> + He had not joined in the shouting of jokes, neither had he moved the least + bit. He had remained quietly in his place against the foot of the mast. I + had been given to understand long before that he had the rating of a + second-class able seaman (matelot leger) in the fleet which sailed from + Toulon for the conquest of Algeria in the year of grace 1830. And, indeed, + I had seen and examined one of the buttons of his old brown, patched coat, + the only brass button of the miscellaneous lot, flat and thin, with the + words Equipages de ligne engraved on it. That sort of button, I believe, + went out with the last of the French Bourbons. + </p> + <p> + “I preserved it from the time of my navy service,” he explained, nodding + rapidly his frail, vulture-like head. It was not very likely that he had + picked up that relic in the street. He looked certainly old enough to have + fought at Trafalgar—or, at any rate, to have played his little part + there as a powder monkey. Shortly after we had been introduced he had + informed me in a Franco-Provencal jargon, mumbling tremulously with his + toothless jaws, that when he was a “shaver no higher than that” he had + seen the Emperor Napoleon returning from Elba. It was at night, he + narrated vaguely, without animation, at a spot between Frejus and Antibes, + in the open country. A big fire had been lit at the side of the + cross-roads. The population from several villages had collected there, old + and young—down to the very children in arms, because the women had + refused to stay at home. Tall soldiers wearing high, hairy caps stood in a + circle, facing the people silently, and their stern eyes and big mustaches + were enough to make everybody keep at a distance. He, “being an impudent + little shaver,” wriggled out of the crowd, creeping on his hands and knees + as near as he dared to the grenadiers' legs, and peeping through + discovered, standing perfectly still in the light of the fire, “a little + fat fellow in a three-cornered hat, buttoned up in a long straight coat, + with a big, pale face inclined on one shoulder, looking something like a + priest. His hands were clasped behind his back. . . . It appears that this + was the Emperor,” the ancient commented, with a faint sigh. He was staring + from the ground with all his might, when “my poor father,” who had been + searching for his boy frantically every where, pounced upon him and hauled + him away by the ear. + </p> + <p> + The tale seems an authentic recollection. He related it to me many times, + using the very same words. The grandfather honoured me by a special and + somewhat embarrassing predilection. Extremes touch. He was the oldest + member by a long way in that company, and I was, if I may say so, its + temporarily adopted baby. He had been a pilot longer than any man in the + boat could remember; thirty—forty years. He did not seem certain + himself, but it could be found out, he suggested, in the archives of the + Pilot-office. He had been pensioned off years before, but he went out from + force of habit; and, as my friend the patron of the company once confided + to me in a whisper, “the old chap did no harm. He was not in the way.” + They treated him with rough deference. One and another would address some + insignificant remark to him now and again, but nobody really took any + notice of what he had to say. He had survived his strength, his + usefulness, his very wisdom. He wore long, green, worsted stockings pulled + up above the knee over his trousers, a sort of woollen nightcap on his + hairless cranium, and wooden clogs on his feet. Without his hooded cloak + he looked like a peasant. Half a dozen hands would be extended to help him + on board, but afterward he was left pretty much to his own thoughts. Of + course he never did any work, except, perhaps, to cast off some rope when + hailed, “<i>He, l'Ancien!</i> let go the halyards there, at your hand”—or + some such request of an easy kind. + </p> + <p> + No one took notice in any way of the chuckling within the shadow of the + hood. He kept it up for a long time with intense enjoyment. Obviously he + had preserved intact the innocence of mind which is easily amused. But + when his hilarity had exhausted itself, he made a professional remark in a + self-assertive but quavering voice: + </p> + <p> + “Can't expect much work on a night like this.” + </p> + <p> + No one took it up. It was a mere truism. Nothing under canvas could be + expected to make a port on such an idle night of dreamy splendour and + spiritual stillness. We would have to glide idly to and fro, keeping our + station within the appointed bearings, and, unless a fresh breeze sprang + up with the dawn, we would land before sunrise on a small islet that, + within two miles of us, shone like a lump of frozen moonlight, to “break a + crust and take a pull at the wine bottle.” I was familiar with the + procedure. The stout boat emptied of her crowd would nestle her buoyant, + capable side against the very rock—such is the perfectly smooth + amenity of the classic sea when in a gentle mood. The crust broken and the + mouthful of wine swallowed—it was literally no more than that with + this abstemious race—the pilots would pass the time stamping their + feet on the slabs of sea-salted stone and blowing into their nipped + fingers. One or two misanthropists would sit apart, perched on boulders + like manlike sea-fowl of solitary habits; the sociably disposed would + gossip scandalously in little gesticulating knots; and there would be + perpetually one or another of my hosts taking aim at the empty horizon + with the long, brass tube of the telescope, a heavy, murderous-looking + piece of collective property, everlastingly changing hands with + brandishing and levelling movements. Then about noon (it was a short turn + of duty—the long turn lasted twenty-four hours) another boatful of + pilots would relieve us—and we should steer for the old Phoenician + port, dominated, watched over from the ridge of a dust-gray, arid hill by + the red-and-white striped pile of the Notre Dame de la Garde. + </p> + <p> + All this came to pass as I had foreseen in the fullness of my very recent + experience. But also something not foreseen by me did happen, something + which causes me to remember my last outing with the pilots. It was on this + occasion that my hand touched, for the first time, the side of an English + ship. + </p> + <p> + No fresh breeze had come with the dawn, only the steady little draught got + a more keen edge on it as the eastern sky became bright and glassy with a + clean, colourless light. It was while we were all ashore on the islet + that a steamer was picked up by the telescope, a black speck like an + insect posed on the hard edge of the offing. She emerged rapidly to her + water-line and came on steadily, a slim hull with a long streak of smoke + slanting away from the rising sun. We embarked in a hurry, and headed the + boat out for our prey, but we hardly moved three miles an hour. + </p> + <p> + She was a big, high-class cargo-steamer of a type that is to be met on the + sea no more—black hull, with low, white superstructures, powerfully + rigged with three masts and a lot of yards on the fore; two hands at her + enormous wheel—steam steering-gear was not a matter of course in + these days—and with them on the bridge three others, bulky in thick + blue jackets, ruddy-faced, muffled up, with peak caps—I suppose all + her officers. There are ships I have met more than once and known well by + sight whose names I have forgotten; but the name of that ship seen once so + many years ago in the clear flush of a cold, pale sunrise I have not + forgotten. How could I—the first English ship on whose side I ever + laid my hand! The name—I read it letter by letter on the bow—was + James Westoll. Not very romantic, you will say. The name of a very + considerable, well-known, and universally respected North country + ship-owner, I believe. James Westoll! What better name could an honourable + hard-working ship have? To me the very grouping of the letters is alive + with the romantic feeling of her reality as I saw her floating motionless + and borrowing an ideal grace from the austere purity of the light. + </p> + <p> + We were then very near her and, on a sudden impulse, I volunteered to pull + bow in the dinghy which shoved off at once to put the pilot on board while + our boat, fanned by the faint air which had attended us all through the + night, went on gliding gently past the black, glistening length of the + ship. A few strokes brought us alongside, and it was then that, for the + very first time in my life, I heard myself addressed in English—the + speech of my secret choice, of my future, of long friendships, of the + deepest affections, of hours of toil and hours of ease, and of solitary + hours, too, of books read, of thoughts pursued, of remembered emotions—of + my very dreams! And if (after being thus fashioned by it in that part of + me which cannot decay) I dare not claim it aloud as my own, then, at any + rate, the speech of my children. Thus small events grow memorable by the + passage of time. As to the quality of the address itself I cannot say it + was very striking. Too short for eloquence and devoid of all charm of + tone, it consisted precisely of the three words “Look out there!” growled + out huskily above my head. + </p> + <p> + It proceeded from a big fat fellow (he had an obtrusive, hairy double + chin) in a blue woollen shirt and roomy breeches pulled up very high, even + to the level of his breastbone, by a pair of braces quite exposed to + public view. As where he stood there was no bulwark, but only a rail and + stanchions, I was able to take in at a glance the whole of his voluminous + person from his feet to the high crown of his soft black hat, which sat + like an absurd flanged cone on his big head. The grotesque and massive + aspect of that deck hand (I suppose he was that—very likely the + lamp-trimmer) surprised me very much. My course of reading, of dreaming, + and longing for the sea had not prepared me for a sea brother of that + sort. I never met again a figure in the least like his except in the + illustrations to Mr. W. W. Jacobs's most entertaining tales of barges and + coasters; but the inspired talent of Mr. Jacobs for poking endless fun at + poor, innocent sailors in a prose which, however extravagant in its + felicitous invention, is always artistically adjusted to observed truth, + was not yet. Perhaps Mr. Jacobs himself was not yet. I fancy that, at + most, if he had made his nurse laugh it was about all he had achieved at + that early date. + </p> + <p> + Therefore, I repeat, other disabilities apart, I could not have been + prepared for the sight of that husky old porpoise. The object of his + concise address was to call my attention to a rope which he incontinently + flung down for me to catch. I caught it, though it was not really + necessary, the ship having no way on her by that time. Then everything + went on very swiftly. The dinghy came with a slight bump against the + steamer's side; the pilot, grabbing for the rope ladder, had scrambled + half-way up before I knew that our task of boarding was done; the harsh, + muffled clanging of the engine-room telegraph struck my ear through the + iron plate; my companion in the dinghy was urging me to “shove off—push + hard”; and when I bore against the smooth flank of the first English ship + I ever touched in my life, I felt it already throbbing under my open palm. + </p> + <p> + Her head swung a little to the west, pointing toward the miniature + lighthouse of the Jolliette breakwater, far away there, hardly + distinguishable against the land. The dinghy danced a squashy, splashy jig + in the wash of the wake; and, turning in my seat, I followed the James + Westoll with my eyes. Before she had gone in a quarter of a mile she + hoisted her flag, as the harbour regulations prescribe for arriving and + departing ships. I saw it suddenly flicker and stream out on the flag + staff. The Red Ensign! In the pellucid, colourless atmosphere bathing the + drab and gray masses of that southern land, the livid islets, the sea of + pale, glassy blue under the pale, glassy sky of that cold sunrise, it was, + as far as the eye could reach, the only spot of ardent colour—flame-like, + intense, and presently as minute as the tiny red spark the concentrated + reflection of a great fire kindles in the clear heart of a globe of + crystal. The Red Ensign—the symbolic, protecting, warm bit of + bunting flung wide upon the seas, and destined for so many years to be the + only roof over my head. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Personal Record, by Joseph Conrad + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PERSONAL RECORD *** + +***** This file should be named 687-h.htm or 687-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/8/687/ + +Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions 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. 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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 + + +Title: A Personal Record + +Author: Joseph Conrad + +Release Date: January 9, 2006 [EBook #687] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PERSONAL RECORD *** + + + + +Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger + + + + + +A PERSONAL RECORD + +By Joseph Conrad + + + +A FAMILIAR PREFACE + +As a general rule we do not want much encouragement to talk about +ourselves; yet this little book is the result of a friendly suggestion, +and even of a little friendly pressure. I defended myself with some +spirit; but, with characteristic tenacity, the friendly voice insisted, +"You know, you really must." + +It was not an argument, but I submitted at once. If one must! . . . + +You perceive the force of a word. He who wants to persuade should put +his trust not in the right argument, but in the right word. The power of +sound has always been greater than the power of sense. I don't say this +by way of disparagement. It is better for mankind to be impressionable +than reflective. Nothing humanely great--great, I mean, as affecting a +whole mass of lives--has come from reflection. On the other hand, you +cannot fail to see the power of mere words; such words as Glory, for +instance, or Pity. I won't mention any more. They are not far to seek. +Shouted with perseverance, with ardour, with conviction, these two by +their sound alone have set whole nations in motion and upheaved the dry, +hard ground on which rests our whole social fabric. There's "virtue" +for you if you like! . . . Of course the accent must be attended to. The +right accent. That's very important. The capacious lung, the thundering +or the tender vocal chords. Don't talk to me of your Archimedes' lever. + +He was an absent-minded person with a mathematical imagination. +Mathematics commands all my respect, but I have no use for engines. Give +me the right word and the right accent and I will move the world. + +What a dream for a writer! Because written words have their accent, too. +Yes! Let me only find the right word! Surely it must be lying somewhere +among the wreckage of all the plaints and all the exultations poured out +aloud since the first day when hope, the undying, came down on earth. It +may be there, close by, disregarded, invisible, quite at hand. But +it's no good. I believe there are men who can lay hold of a needle in a +pottle of hay at the first try. For myself, I have never had such luck. +And then there is that accent. Another difficulty. For who is going to +tell whether the accent is right or wrong till the word is shouted, +and fails to be heard, perhaps, and goes down-wind, leaving the world +unmoved? Once upon a time there lived an emperor who was a sage and +something of a literary man. He jotted down on ivory tablets thoughts, +maxims, reflections which chance has preserved for the edification of +posterity. Among other sayings--I am quoting from memory--I remember +this solemn admonition: "Let all thy words have the accent of heroic +truth." The accent of heroic truth! This is very fine, but I am thinking +that it is an easy matter for an austere emperor to jot down grandiose +advice. Most of the working truths on this earth are humble, not heroic; +and there have been times in the history of mankind when the accents of +heroic truth have moved it to nothing but derision. + +Nobody will expect to find between the covers of this little book words +of extraordinary potency or accents of irresistible heroism. However +humiliating for my self esteem, I must confess that the counsels of +Marcus Aurelius are not for me. They are more fit for a moralist than +for an artist. Truth of a modest sort I can promise you, and also +sincerity. That complete, praise worthy sincerity which, while it +delivers one into the hands of one's enemies, is as likely as not to +embroil one with one's friends. + +"Embroil" is perhaps too strong an expression. I can't imagine among +either my enemies or my friends a being so hard up for something to do +as to quarrel with me. "To disappoint one's friends" would be nearer the +mark. Most, almost all, friend ships of the writing period of my life +have come to me through my books; and I know that a novelist lives in +his work. He stands there, the only reality in an invented world, among +imaginary things, happenings, and people. Writing about them, he is only +writing about himself. But the disclosure is not complete. He remains, +to a certain extent, a figure behind the veil; a suspected rather than +a seen presence--a movement and a voice behind the draperies of fiction. +In these personal notes there is no such veil. And I cannot help +thinking of a passage in the "Imitation of Christ" where the ascetic +author, who knew life so profoundly, says that "there are persons +esteemed on their reputation who by showing themselves destroy the +opinion one had of them." This is the danger incurred by an author of +fiction who sets out to talk about himself without disguise. + +While these reminiscent pages were appearing serially I was remonstrated +with for bad economy; as if such writing were a form of self-indulgence +wasting the substance of future volumes. It seems that I am not +sufficiently literary. Indeed, a man who never wrote a line for print +till he was thirty-six cannot bring himself to look upon his existence +and his experience, upon the sum of his thoughts, sensations, and +emotions, upon his memories and his regrets, and the whole possession +of his past, as only so much material for his hands. Once before, some +three years ago, when I published "The Mirror of the Sea," a volume of +impressions and memories, the same remarks were made to me. Practical +remarks. But, truth to say, I have never understood the kind of thrift +they recommend. I wanted to pay my tribute to the sea, its ships and +its men, to whom I remain indebted for so much which has gone to make me +what I am. That seemed to me the only shape in which I could offer it to +their shades. There could not be a question in my mind of anything else. +It is quite possible that I am a bad economist; but it is certain that I +am incorrigible. + +Having matured in the surroundings and under the special conditions of +sea life, I have a special piety toward that form of my past; for its +impressions were vivid, its appeal direct, its demands such as could be +responded to with the natural elation of youth and strength equal to the +call. There was nothing in them to perplex a young conscience. Having +broken away from my origins under a storm of blame from every quarter +which had the merest shadow of right to voice an opinion, removed by +great distances from such natural affections as were still left to +me, and even estranged, in a measure, from them by the totally +unintelligible character of the life which had seduced me so +mysteriously from my allegiance, I may safely say that through the blind +force of circumstances the sea was to be all my world and the merchant +service my only home for a long succession of years. No wonder, then, +that in my two exclusively sea books--"The Nigger of the Narcissus," and +"The Mirror of the Sea" (and in the few short sea stories like "Youth" +and "Typhoon")--I have tried with an almost filial regard to render the +vibration of life in the great world of waters, in the hearts of the +simple men who have for ages traversed its solitudes, and also that +something sentient which seems to dwell in ships--the creatures of their +hands and the objects of their care. + +One's literary life must turn frequently for sustenance to memories and +seek discourse with the shades, unless one has made up one's mind to +write only in order to reprove mankind for what it is, or praise it for +what it is not, or--generally--to teach it how to behave. Being neither +quarrelsome, nor a flatterer, nor a sage, I have done none of these +things, and I am prepared to put up serenely with the insignificance +which attaches to persons who are not meddlesome in some way or other. +But resignation is not indifference. I would not like to be left +standing as a mere spectator on the bank of the great stream carrying +onward so many lives. I would fain claim for myself the faculty of so +much insight as can be expressed in a voice of sympathy and compassion. + +It seems to me that in one, at least, authoritative quarter of criticism +I am suspected of a certain unemotional, grim acceptance of facts--of +what the French would call _secheresse du coeur_. Fifteen years of +unbroken silence before praise or blame testify sufficiently to my +respect for criticism, that fine flower of personal expression in the +garden of letters. But this is more of a personal matter, reaching the +man behind the work, and therefore it may be alluded to in a volume +which is a personal note in the margin of the public page. Not that +I feel hurt in the least. The charge--if it amounted to a charge at +all--was made in the most considerate terms; in a tone of regret. + +My answer is that if it be true that every novel contains an element of +autobiography--and this can hardly be denied, since the creator can only +express himself in his creation--then there are some of us to whom an +open display of sentiment is repugnant. + +I would not unduly praise the virtue of restraint. It is often merely +temperamental. But it is not always a sign of coldness. It may be pride. +There can be nothing more humiliating than to see the shaft of one's +emotion miss the mark of either laughter or tears. Nothing more +humiliating! And this for the reason that should the mark be missed, +should the open display of emotion fail to move, then it must perish +unavoidably in disgust or contempt. No artist can be reproached for +shrinking from a risk which only fools run to meet and only genius dare +confront with impunity. In a task which mainly consists in laying one's +soul more or less bare to the world, a regard for decency, even at +the cost of success, is but the regard for one's own dignity which is +inseparably united with the dignity of one's work. + +And then--it is very difficult to be wholly joyous or wholly sad on this +earth. The comic, when it is human, soon takes upon itself a face of +pain; and some of our griefs (some only, not all, for it is the capacity +for suffering which makes man August in the eyes of men) have their +source in weaknesses which must be recognized with smiling com passion +as the common inheritance of us all. Joy and sorrow in this world pass +into each other, mingling their forms and their murmurs in the twilight +of life as mysterious as an over shadowed ocean, while the dazzling +brightness of supreme hopes lies far off, fascinating and still, on the +distant edge of the horizon. + +Yes! I, too, would like to hold the magic wand giving that command over +laughter and tears which is declared to be the highest achievement of +imaginative literature. Only, to be a great magician one must surrender +oneself to occult and irresponsible powers, either outside or within +one's breast. We have all heard of simple men selling their souls for +love or power to some grotesque devil. The most ordinary intelligence +can perceive without much reflection that anything of the sort is bound +to be a fool's bargain. I don't lay claim to particular wisdom because +of my dislike and distrust of such transactions. It may be my sea +training acting upon a natural disposition to keep good hold on the +one thing really mine, but the fact is that I have a positive horror of +losing even for one moving moment that full possession of my self which +is the first condition of good service. And I have carried my notion of +good service from my earlier into my later existence. I, who have never +sought in the written word anything else but a form of the Beautiful--I +have carried over that article of creed from the decks of ships to the +more circumscribed space of my desk, and by that act, I suppose, I have +become permanently imperfect in the eyes of the ineffable company of +pure esthetes. + +As in political so in literary action a man wins friends for himself +mostly by the passion of his prejudices and by the consistent narrowness +of his outlook. But I have never been able to love what was not +lovable or hate what was not hateful out of deference for some general +principle. Whether there be any courage in making this admission I know +not. After the middle turn of life's way we consider dangers and joys +with a tranquil mind. So I proceed in peace to declare that I have +always suspected in the effort to bring into play the extremities of +emotions the debasing touch of insincerity. In order to move others +deeply we must deliberately allow ourselves to be carried away beyond +the bounds of our normal sensibility--innocently enough, perhaps, and +of necessity, like an actor who raises his voice on the stage above the +pitch of natural conversation--but still we have to do that. And surely +this is no great sin. But the danger lies in the writer becoming the +victim of his own exaggeration, losing the exact notion of sincerity, +and in the end coming to despise truth itself as something too cold, too +blunt for his purpose--as, in fact, not good enough for his insistent +emotion. From laughter and tears the descent is easy to snivelling and +giggles. + +These may seem selfish considerations; but you can't, in sound morals, +condemn a man for taking care of his own integrity. It is his clear +duty. And least of all can you condemn an artist pursuing, however +humbly and imperfectly, a creative aim. In that interior world where +his thought and his emotions go seeking for the experience of imagined +adventures, there are no policemen, no law, no pressure of circumstance +or dread of opinion to keep him within bounds. Who then is going to say +Nay to his temptations if not his conscience? + +And besides--this, remember, is the place and the moment of perfectly +open talk--I think that all ambitions are lawful except those which +climb upward on the miseries or credulities of mankind. All intellectual +and artistic ambitions are permissible, up to and even beyond the limit +of prudent sanity. They can hurt no one. If they are mad, then so +much the worse for the artist. Indeed, as virtue is said to be, such +ambitions are their own reward. Is it such a very mad presumption to +believe in the sovereign power of one's art, to try for other means, for +other ways of affirming this belief in the deeper appeal of one's work? +To try to go deeper is not to be insensible. A historian of hearts is +not a historian of emotions, yet he penetrates further, restrained as he +may be, since his aim is to reach the very fount of laughter and tears. +The sight of human affairs deserves admiration and pity. They are +worthy of respect, too. And he is not insensible who pays them the +undemonstrative tribute of a sigh which is not a sob, and of a smile +which is not a grin. Resignation, not mystic, not detached, but +resignation open-eyed, conscious, and informed by love, is the only one +of our feelings for which it is impossible to become a sham. + +Not that I think resignation the last word of wisdom. I am too much the +creature of my time for that. But I think that the proper wisdom is to +will what the gods will without, perhaps, being certain what their will +is--or even if they have a will of their own. And in this matter of life +and art it is not the Why that matters so much to our happiness as the +How. As the Frenchman said, "_Il y a toujours la maniere_." Very true. +Yes. There is the manner. The manner in laughter, in tears, in irony, in +indignations and enthusiasms, in judgments--and even in love. The manner +in which, as in the features and character of a human face, the inner +truth is foreshadowed for those who know how to look at their kind. + +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, among 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. The revolutionary spirit is mighty convenient in this, that +it frees one from all scruples as regards ideas. Its hard, absolute +optimism is repulsive to my mind by the menace of fanaticism and +intolerance it contains. No doubt one should smile at these things; but, +imperfect Esthete, I am no better Philosopher. + +All claim to special righteousness awakens in me that scorn and danger +from which a philosophical mind should be free. . . . + +I fear that trying to be conversational I have only managed to be unduly +discursive. I have never been very well acquainted with the art of +conversation--that art which, I understand, is supposed to be lost now. +My young days, the days when one's habits and character are formed, have +been rather familiar with long silences. Such voices as broke into them +were anything but conversational. No. I haven't got the habit. Yet +this discursiveness is not so irrelevant to the handful of pages which +follow. They, too, have been charged with discursiveness, with +disregard of chronological order (which is in itself a crime), with +unconventionality of form (which is an impropriety). I was told severely +that the public would view with displeasure the informal character of +my recollections. "Alas!" I protested, mildly. "Could I begin with the +sacramental words, 'I was born on such a date in such a place'? The +remoteness of the locality would have robbed the statement of all +interest. I haven't lived through wonderful adventures to be related +seriatim. I haven't known distinguished men on whom I could pass fatuous +remarks. I haven't been mixed up with great or scandalous affairs. This +is but a bit of psychological document, and even so, I haven't written +it with a view to put forward any conclusion of my own." + +But my objector was not placated. These were good reasons for not +writing at all--not a defense of what stood written already, he said. + +I admit that almost anything, anything in the world, would serve as a +good reason for not writing at all. But since I have written them, all I +want to say in their defense is that these memories put down without +any regard for established conventions have not been thrown off without +system and purpose. They have their hope and their aim. The hope that +from the reading of these pages there may emerge at last the vision of +a personality; the man behind the books so fundamentally dissimilar +as, for instance, "Almayer's Folly" and "The Secret Agent," and yet a +coherent, justifiable personality both in its origin and in its action. +This is the hope. The immediate aim, closely associated with the hope, +is to give the record of personal memories by presenting faithfully the +feelings and sensations connected with the writing of my first book and +with my first contact with the sea. + +In the purposely mingled resonance of this double strain a friend here +and there will perhaps detect a subtle accord. + +J. C. K. + + + + +A PERSONAL RECORD + +I + +Books may be written in all sorts of places. Verbal inspiration may +enter the berth of a mariner on board a ship frozen fast in a river in +the middle of a town; and since saints are supposed to look benignantly +on humble believers, I indulge in the pleasant fancy that the shade +of old Flaubert--who imagined himself to be (among other things) a +descendant of Vikings--might have hovered with amused interest over +the docks of a 2,000-ton steamer called the Adowa, on board of which, +gripped by the inclement winter alongside a quay in Rouen, the tenth +chapter of "Almayer's Folly" was begun. With interest, I say, for was +not the kind Norman giant with enormous mustaches and a thundering voice +the last of the Romantics? Was he not, in his unworldly, almost ascetic, +devotion to his art, a sort of literary, saint-like hermit? + +"'It has set at last,' said Nina to her mother, pointing to the hills +behind which the sun had sunk." . . . These words of Almayer's romantic +daughter I remember tracing on the gray paper of a pad which rested on +the blanket of my bed-place. They referred to a sunset in Malayan Isles +and shaped themselves in my mind, in a hallucinated vision of forests +and rivers and seas, far removed from a commercial and yet romantic town +of the northern hemisphere. But at that moment the mood of visions and +words was cut short by the third officer, a cheerful and casual youth, +coming in with a bang of the door and the exclamation: "You've made it +jolly warm in here." + +It was warm. I had turned on the steam heater after placing a tin under +the leaky water-cock--for perhaps you do not know that water will leak +where steam will not. I am not aware of what my young friend had +been doing on deck all that morning, but the hands he rubbed together +vigorously were very red and imparted to me a chilly feeling by their +mere aspect. He has remained the only banjoist of my acquaintance, and +being also a younger son of a retired colonel, the poem of Mr. Kipling, +by a strange aberration of associated ideas, always seems to me to have +been written with an exclusive view to his person. When he did not +play the banjo he loved to sit and look at it. He proceeded to this +sentimental inspection, and after meditating a while over the strings +under my silent scrutiny inquired, airily: + +"What are you always scribbling there, if it's fair to ask?" + +It was a fair enough question, but I did not answer him, and simply +turned the pad over with a movement of instinctive secrecy: I could not +have told him he had put to flight the psychology of Nina Almayer, her +opening speech of the tenth chapter, and the words of Mrs. Almayer's +wisdom which were to follow in the ominous oncoming of a tropical night. +I could not have told him that Nina had said, "It has set at last." +He would have been extremely surprised and perhaps have dropped his +precious banjo. Neither could I have told him that the sun of my +sea-going was setting, too, even as I wrote the words expressing the +impatience of passionate youth bent on its desire. I did not know this +myself, and it is safe to say he would not have cared, though he was an +excellent young fellow and treated me with more deference than, in our +relative positions, I was strictly entitled to. + +He lowered a tender gaze on his banjo, and I went on looking through the +port-hole. The round opening framed in its brass rim a fragment of the +quays, with a row of casks ranged on the frozen ground and the tail end +of a great cart. A red-nosed carter in a blouse and a woollen night-cap +leaned against the wheel. An idle, strolling custom house guard, belted +over his blue capote, had the air of being depressed by exposure to the +weather and the monotony of official existence. The background of grimy +houses found a place in the picture framed by my port-hole, across a +wide stretch of paved quay brown with frozen mud. The colouring +was sombre, and the most conspicuous feature was a little cafe with +curtained windows and a shabby front of white woodwork, corresponding +with the squalor of these poorer quarters bordering the river. We had +been shifted down there from another berth in the neighbourhood of the +Opera House, where that same port-hole gave me a view of quite another +sort of cafe--the best in the town, I believe, and the very one where +the worthy Bovary and his wife, the romantic daughter of old Pere +Renault, had some refreshment after the memorable performance of an +opera which was the tragic story of Lucia di Lammermoor in a setting of +light music. + +I could recall no more the hallucination of the Eastern Archipelago +which I certainly hoped to see again. The story of "Almayer's Folly" +got put away under the pillow for that day. I do not know that I had any +occupation to keep me away from it; the truth of the matter is that on +board that ship we were leading just then a contemplative life. I +will not say anything of my privileged position. I was there "just to +oblige," as an actor of standing may take a small part in the benefit +performance of a friend. + +As far as my feelings were concerned I did not wish to be in that +steamer at that time and in those circumstances. And perhaps I was not +even wanted there in the usual sense in which a ship "wants" an +officer. It was the first and last instance in my sea life when I served +ship-owners who have remained completely shadowy to my apprehension. I +do not mean this for the well-known firm of London ship-brokers which +had chartered the ship to the, I will not say short-lived, but ephemeral +Franco-Canadian Transport Company. A death leaves something behind, +but there was never anything tangible left from the F. C. T. C. It +flourished no longer than roses live, and unlike the roses it blossomed +in the dead of winter, emitted a sort of faint perfume of adventure, and +died before spring set in. But indubitably it was a company, it had even +a house-flag, all white with the letters F. C. T. C. artfully tangled +up in a complicated monogram. We flew it at our mainmast head, and now +I have come to the conclusion that it was the only flag of its kind in +existence. All the same we on board, for many days, had the impression +of being a unit of a large fleet with fortnightly departures for +Montreal and Quebec as advertised in pamphlets and prospectuses which +came aboard in a large package in Victoria Dock, London, just before we +started for Rouen, France. And in the shadowy life of the F. C. T. C. +lies the secret of that, my last employment in my calling, which in a +remote sense interrupted the rhythmical development of Nina Almayer's +story. + +The then secretary of the London Shipmasters' Society, with its modest +rooms in Fenchurch Street, was a man of indefatigable activity and the +greatest devotion to his task. He is responsible for what was my last +association with a ship. I call it that because it can hardly be called +a sea-going experience. Dear Captain Froud--it is impossible not to +pay him the tribute of affectionate familiarity at this distance of +years--had very sound views as to the advancement of knowledge and +status for the whole body of the officers of the mercantile marine. He +organized for us courses of professional lectures, St. John ambulance +classes, corresponded industriously with public bodies and members of +Parliament on subjects touching the interests of the service; and as to +the oncoming of some inquiry or commission relating to matters of the +sea and to the work of seamen, it was a perfect godsend to his need of +exerting himself on our corporate behalf. Together with this high sense +of his official duties he had in him a vein of personal kindness, a +strong disposition to do what good he could to the individual members of +that craft of which in his time he had been a very excellent master. And +what greater kindness can one do to a seaman than to put him in the way +of employment? Captain Froud did not see why the Shipmasters' Society, +besides its general guardianship of our interests, should not be +unofficially an employment agency of the very highest class. + +"I am trying to persuade all our great ship-owning firms to come to +us for their men. There is nothing of a trade-union spirit about our +society, and I really don't see why they should not," he said once +to me. "I am always telling the captains, too, that, all things being +equal, they ought to give preference to the members of the society. +In my position I can generally find for them what they want among our +members or our associate members." + +In my wanderings about London from west to east and back again (I was +very idle then) the two little rooms in Fenchurch Street were a sort +of resting-place where my spirit, hankering after the sea, could feel +itself nearer to the ships, the men, and the life of its choice--nearer +there than on any other spot of the solid earth. This resting-place used +to be, at about five o'clock in the afternoon, full of men and tobacco +smoke, but Captain Froud had the smaller room to himself and there +he granted private interviews, whose principal motive was to render +service. Thus, one murky November afternoon he beckoned me in with a +crooked finger and that peculiar glance above his spectacles which is +perhaps my strongest physical recollection of the man. + +"I have had in here a shipmaster, this morning," he said, getting back +to his desk and motioning me to a chair, "who is in want of an officer. +It's for a steamship. You know, nothing pleases me more than to be +asked, but, unfortunately, I do not quite see my way . . ." + +As the outer room was full of men I cast a wondering glance at the +closed door; but he shook his head. + +"Oh, yes, I should be only too glad to get that berth for one of them. +But the fact of the matter is, the captain of that ship wants an officer +who can speak French fluently, and that's not so easy to find. I do +not know anybody myself but you. It's a second officer's berth and, of +course, you would not care . . . would you now? I know that it isn't +what you are looking for." + +It was not. I had given myself up to the idleness of a haunted man who +looks for nothing but words wherein to capture his visions. But I admit +that outwardly I resembled sufficiently a man who could make a second +officer for a steamer chartered by a French company. I showed no sign +of being haunted by the fate of Nina and by the murmurs of tropical +forests; and even my intimate intercourse with Almayer (a person of weak +character) had not put a visible mark upon my features. For many years +he and the world of his story had been the companions of my imagination +without, I hope, impairing my ability to deal with the realities of +sea life. I had had the man and his surroundings with me ever since my +return from the eastern waters--some four years before the day of which +I speak. + +It was in the front sitting-room of furnished apartments in a Pimlico +square that they first began to live again with a vividness and +poignancy quite foreign to our former real intercourse. I had been +treating myself to a long stay on shore, and in the necessity of +occupying my mornings Almayer (that old acquaintance) came nobly to the +rescue. + +Before long, as was only proper, his wife and daughter joined him round +my table, and then the rest of that Pantai band came full of words +and gestures. Unknown to my respectable landlady, it was my practice +directly after my breakfast to hold animated receptions of Malays, +Arabs, and half-castes. They did not clamour aloud for my attention. +They came with a silent and irresistible appeal--and the appeal, I +affirm here, was not to my self-love or my vanity. It seems now to have +had a moral character, for why should the memory of these beings, seen +in their obscure, sun-bathed existence, demand to express itself in the +shape of a novel, except on the ground of that mysterious fellowship +which unites in a community of hopes and fears all the dwellers on this +earth? + +I did not receive my visitors with boisterous rapture as the bearers +of any gifts of profit or fame. There was no vision of a printed book +before me as I sat writing at that table, situated in a decayed part of +Belgravia. After all these years, each leaving its evidence of slowly +blackened pages, I can honestly say that it is a sentiment akin to pity +which prompted me to render in words assembled with conscientious care +the memory of things far distant and of men who had lived. + +But, coming back to Captain Froud and his fixed idea of never +disappointing ship owners or ship-captains, it was not likely that I +should fail him in his ambition--to satisfy at a few hours' notice the +unusual demand for a French-speaking officer. He explained to me that +the ship was chartered by a French company intending to establish a +regular monthly line of sailings from Rouen, for the transport of French +emigrants to Canada. But, frankly, this sort of thing did not interest +me very much. I said gravely that if it were really a matter of keeping +up the reputation of the Shipmasters' Society I would consider it. But +the consideration was just for form's sake. The next day I interviewed +the captain, and I believe we were impressed favourably with each other. +He explained that his chief mate was an excellent man in every respect +and that he could not think of dismissing him so as to give me the +higher position; but that if I consented to come as second officer I +would be given certain special advantages--and so on. + +I told him that if I came at all the rank really did not matter. + +"I am sure," he insisted, "you will get on first rate with Mr. Paramor." + +I promised faithfully to stay for two trips at least, and it was in +those circumstances that what was to be my last connection with a ship +began. And after all there was not even one single trip. It may be +that it was simply the fulfilment of a fate, of that written word on my +forehead which apparently forbade me, through all my sea wanderings, +ever to achieve the crossing of the Western Ocean--using the words in +that special sense in which sailors speak of Western Ocean trade, +of Western Ocean packets, of Western Ocean hard cases. The new life +attended closely upon the old, and the nine chapters of "Almayer's +Folly" went with me to the Victoria Dock, whence in a few days we +started for Rouen. I won't go so far as saying that the engaging of a +man fated never to cross the Western Ocean was the absolute cause of +the Franco-Canadian Transport Company's failure to achieve even a single +passage. It might have been that of course; but the obvious, gross +obstacle was clearly the want of money. Four hundred and sixty bunks +for emigrants were put together in the 'tween decks by industrious +carpenters while we lay in the Victoria Dock, but never an emigrant +turned up in Rouen--of which, being a humane person, I confess I was +glad. Some gentlemen from Paris--I think there were three of them, and +one was said to be the chairman--turned up, indeed, and went from end +to end of the ship, knocking their silk hats cruelly against the deck +beams. I attended them personally, and I can vouch for it that the +interest they took in things was intelligent enough, though, obviously, +they had never seen anything of the sort before. Their faces as they +went ashore wore a cheerfully inconclusive expression. Notwithstanding +that this inspecting ceremony was supposed to be a preliminary to +immediate sailing, it was then, as they filed down our gangway, that I +received the inward monition that no sailing within the meaning of our +charter party would ever take place. + +It must be said that in less than three weeks a move took place. When +we first arrived we had been taken up with much ceremony well toward the +centre of the town, and, all the street corners being placarded with +the tricolor posters announcing the birth of our company, the petit +bourgeois with his wife and family made a Sunday holiday from the +inspection of the ship. I was always in evidence in my best uniform to +give information as though I had been a Cook's tourists' interpreter, +while our quartermasters reaped a harvest of small change from +personally conducted parties. But when the move was made--that move +which carried us some mile and a half down the stream to be tied up to +an altogether muddier and shabbier quay--then indeed the desolation of +solitude became our lot. It was a complete and soundless stagnation; for +as we had the ship ready for sea to the smallest detail, as the frost +was hard and the days short, we were absolutely idle--idle to the point +of blushing with shame when the thought struck us that all the time our +salaries went on. Young Cole was aggrieved because, as he said, we could +not enjoy any sort of fun in the evening after loafing like this all +day; even the banjo lost its charm since there was nothing to prevent +his strumming on it all the time between the meals. The good Paramor--he +was really a most excellent fellow--became unhappy as far as was +possible to his cheery nature, till one dreary day I suggested, out of +sheer mischief, that he should employ the dormant energies of the crew +in hauling both cables up on deck and turning them end for end. + +For a moment Mr. Paramor was radiant. "Excellent idea!" but directly +his face fell. "Why . . . Yes! But we can't make that job last more +than three days," he muttered, discontentedly. I don't know how long he +expected us to be stuck on the riverside outskirts of Rouen, but I know +that the cables got hauled up and turned end for end according to my +satanic suggestion, put down again, and their very existence utterly +forgotten, I believe, before a French river pilot came on board to take +our ship down, empty as she came, into the Havre roads. You may think +that this state of forced idleness favoured some advance in the fortunes +of Almayer and his daughter. Yet it was not so. As if it were some sort +of evil spell, my banjoist cabin mate's interruption, as related above, +had arrested them short at the point of that fateful sunset for many +weeks together. It was always thus with this book, begun in '89 and +finished in '94--with that shortest of all the novels which it was to be +my lot to write. Between its opening exclamation calling Almayer to his +dinner in his wife's voice and Abdullah's (his enemy) mental reference +to the God of Islam--"The Merciful, the Compassionate"--which closes the +book, there were to come several long sea passages, a visit (to use the +elevated phraseology suitable to the occasion) to the scenes (some of +them) of my childhood and the realization of childhood's vain words, +expressing a light-hearted and romantic whim. + +It was in 1868, when nine years old or thereabouts, that while looking +at a map of Africa of the time and putting my finger on the blank space +then representing the unsolved mystery of that continent, I said to +myself, with absolute assurance and an amazing audacity which are no +longer in my character now: + +"When I grow up I shall go _there_." + +And of course I thought no more about it till after a quarter of a +century or so an opportunity offered to go there--as if the sin of +childish audacity were to be visited on my mature head. Yes. I did go +there: _there_ being the region of Stanley Falls, which in '68 was the +blankest of blank spaces on the earth's figured surface. And the MS. +of "Almayer's Folly," carried about me as if it were a talisman or a +treasure, went _there_, too. That it ever came out of _there_ seems +a special dispensation of Providence, because a good many of my other +properties, infinitely more valuable and useful to me, remained behind +through unfortunate accidents of transportation. I call to mind, for +instance, a specially awkward turn of the Congo between Kinchassa and +Leopoldsville--more particularly when one had to take it at night in +a big canoe with only half the proper number of paddlers. I failed in +being the second white man on record drowned at that interesting spot +through the upsetting of a canoe. The first was a young Belgian officer, +but the accident happened some months before my time, and he, too, I +believe, was going home; not perhaps quite so ill as myself--but still +he was going home. I got round the turn more or less alive, though I +was too sick to care whether I did or not, and, always with "Almayer's +Folly" among my diminishing baggage, I arrived at that delectable +capital, Boma, where, before the departure of the steamer which was to +take me home, I had the time to wish myself dead over and over again +with perfect sincerity. At that date there were in existence only seven +chapters of "Almayer's Folly," but the chapter in my history which +followed was that of a long, long illness and very dismal convalescence. +Geneva, or more precisely the hydropathic establishment of Champel, is +rendered forever famous by the termination of the eighth chapter in +the history of Almayer's decline and fall. The events of the ninth are +inextricably mixed up with the details of the proper management of a +waterside warehouse owned by a certain city firm whose name does not +matter. But that work, undertaken to accustom myself again to the +activities of a healthy existence, soon came to an end. The earth had +nothing to hold me with for very long. And then that memorable story, +like a cask of choice Madeira, got carried for three years to and fro +upon the sea. Whether this treatment improved its flavour or not, of +course I would not like to say. As far as appearance is concerned it +certainly did nothing of the kind. The whole MS. acquired a faded look +and an ancient, yellowish complexion. It became at last unreasonable +to suppose that anything in the world would ever happen to Almayer and +Nina. And yet something most unlikely to happen on the high seas was to +wake them up from their state of suspended animation. + +What is it that Novalis says: "It is certain my conviction gains +infinitely the moment another soul will believe in it." And what is a +novel if not a conviction of our fellow-men's existence strong enough to +take upon itself a form of imagined life clearer than reality and whose +accumulated verisimilitude of selected episodes puts to shame the pride +of documentary history. Providence which saved my MS. from the Congo +rapids brought it to the knowledge of a helpful soul far out on the open +sea. It would be on my part the greatest ingratitude ever to forget the +sallow, sunken face and the deep-set, dark eyes of the young Cambridge +man (he was a "passenger for his health" on board the good ship Torrens +outward bound to Australia) who was the first reader of "Almayer's +Folly"--the very first reader I ever had. + +"Would it bore you very much in reading a MS. in a handwriting like +mine?" I asked him one evening, on a sudden impulse at the end of a +longish conversation whose subject was Gibbon's History. + +Jacques (that was his name) was sitting in my cabin one stormy dog-watch +below, after bring me a book to read from his own travelling store. + +"Not at all," he answered, with his courteous intonation and a faint +smile. As I pulled a drawer open his suddenly aroused curiosity gave him +a watchful expression. I wonder what he expected to see. A poem, maybe. +All that's beyond guessing now. + +He was not a cold, but a calm man, still more subdued by disease--a man +of few words and of an unassuming modesty in general intercourse, but +with something uncommon in the whole of his person which set him apart +from the undistinguished lot of our sixty passengers. His eyes had a +thoughtful, introspective look. In his attractive reserved manner and in +a veiled sympathetic voice he asked: + +"What is this?" "It is a sort of tale," I answered, with an effort. "It +is not even finished yet. Nevertheless, I would like to know what you +think of it." He put the MS. in the breast-pocket of his jacket; I +remember perfectly his thin, brown fingers folding it lengthwise. "I +will read it to-morrow," he remarked, seizing the door handle; and then +watching the roll of the ship for a propitious moment, he opened the +door and was gone. In the moment of his exit I heard the sustained +booming of the wind, the swish of the water on the decks of the Torrens, +and the subdued, as if distant, roar of the rising sea. I noted the +growing disquiet in the great restlessness of the ocean, and responded +professionally to it with the thought that at eight o'clock, in another +half hour or so at the farthest, the topgallant sails would have to come +off the ship. + +Next day, but this time in the first dog watch, Jacques entered my +cabin. He had a thick woollen muffler round his throat, and the MS. +was in his hand. He tendered it to me with a steady look, but without +a word. I took it in silence. He sat down on the couch and still said +nothing. I opened and shut a drawer under my desk, on which a filled-up +log-slate lay wide open in its wooden frame waiting to be copied neatly +into the sort of book I was accustomed to write with care, the ship's +log-book. I turned my back squarely on the desk. And even then Jacques +never offered a word. "Well, what do you say?" I asked at last. "Is +it worth finishing?" This question expressed exactly the whole of my +thoughts. + +"Distinctly," he answered, in his sedate, veiled voice, and then coughed +a little. + +"Were you interested?" I inquired further, almost in a whisper. + +"Very much!" + +In a pause I went on meeting instinctively the heavy rolling of the +ship, and Jacques put his feet upon the couch. The curtain of my +bed-place swung to and fro as if it were a punkah, the bulkhead lamp +circled in its gimbals, and now and then the cabin door rattled slightly +in the gusts of wind. It was in latitude 40 south, and nearly in the +longitude of Greenwich, as far as I can remember, that these quiet rites +of Almayer's and Nina's resurrection were taking place. In the prolonged +silence it occurred to me that there was a good deal of retrospective +writing in the story as far as it went. Was it intelligible in its +action, I asked myself, as if already the story-teller were being +born into the body of a seaman. But I heard on deck the whistle of the +officer of the watch and remained on the alert to catch the order that +was to follow this call to attention. It reached me as a faint, fierce +shout to "Square the yards." "Aha!" I thought to myself, "a westerly +blow coming on." Then I turned to my very first reader, who, alas! was +not to live long enough to know the end of the tale. + +"Now let me ask you one more thing: is the story quite clear to you as +it stands?" + +He raised his dark, gentle eyes to my face and seemed surprised. + +"Yes! Perfectly." + +This was all I was to hear from his lips concerning the merits of +"Almayer's Folly." We never spoke together of the book again. A long +period of bad weather set in and I had no thoughts left but for my +duties, while poor Jacques caught a fatal cold and had to keep close in +his cabin. When we arrived in Adelaide the first reader of my prose +went at once up-country, and died rather suddenly in the end, either in +Australia or it may be on the passage while going home through the Suez +Canal. I am not sure which it was now, and I do not think I ever heard +precisely; though I made inquiries about him from some of our return +passengers who, wandering about to "see the country" during the ship's +stay in port, had come upon him here and there. At last we sailed, +homeward bound, and still not one line was added to the careless scrawl +of the many pages which poor Jacques had had the patience to read with +the very shadows of Eternity gathering already in the hollows of his +kind, steadfast eyes. + +The purpose instilled into me by his simple and final "Distinctly" +remained dormant, yet alive to await its opportunity. I dare say I am +compelled--unconsciously compelled--now to write volume after volume, as +in past years I was compelled to go to sea voyage after voyage. Leaves +must follow upon one another as leagues used to follow in the days +gone by, on and on to the appointed end, which, being Truth itself, is +One--one for all men and for all occupations. + +I do not know which of the two impulses has appeared more mysterious and +more wonderful to me. Still, in writing, as in going to sea, I had to +wait my opportunity. Let me confess here that I was never one of those +wonderful fellows that would go afloat in a wash-tub for the sake of the +fun, and if I may pride myself upon my consistency, it was ever just +the same with my writing. Some men, I have heard, write in railway +carriages, and could do it, perhaps, sitting crossed-legged on a +clothes-line; but I must confess that my sybaritic disposition will not +consent to write without something at least resembling a chair. Line by +line, rather than page by page, was the growth of "Almayer's Folly." + +And so it happened that I very nearly lost the MS., advanced now to the +first words of the ninth chapter, in the Friedrichstrasse Poland, or +more precisely to Ukraine. On an early, sleepy morning changing trains +in a hurry I left my Gladstone bag in a refreshment-room. A worthy +and intelligent Koffertrager rescued it. Yet in my anxiety I was not +thinking of the MS., but of all the other things that were packed in the +bag. + +In Warsaw, where I spent two days, those wandering pages were never +exposed to the light, except once to candle-light, while the bag lay +open on the chair. I was dressing hurriedly to dine at a sporting club. +A friend of my childhood (he had been in the Diplomatic Service, but +had turned to growing wheat on paternal acres, and we had not seen each +other for over twenty years) was sitting on the hotel sofa waiting to +carry me off there. + +"You might tell me something of your life while you are dressing," he +suggested, kindly. + +I do not think I told him much of my life story either then or later. +The talk of the select little party with which he made me dine was +extremely animated and embraced most subjects under heaven, from +big-game shooting in Africa to the last poem published in a very +modernist review, edited by the very young and patronized by the highest +society. But it never touched upon "Almayer's Folly," and next morning, +in uninterrupted obscurity, this inseparable companion went on rolling +with me in the southeast direction toward the government of Kiev. + +At that time there was an eight hours' drive, if not more, from the +railway station to the country-house which was my destination. + +"Dear boy" (these words were always written in English), so ran the last +letter from that house received in London--"Get yourself driven to the +only inn in the place, dine as well as you can, and some time in the +evening my own confidential servant, factotum and majordomo, a Mr. V. S. +(I warn you he is of noble extraction), will present himself before you, +reporting the arrival of the small sledge which will take you here on +the next day. I send with him my heaviest fur, which I suppose with such +overcoats as you may have with you will keep you from freezing on the +road." + +Sure enough, as I was dining, served by a Hebrew waiter, in an enormous +barn-like bedroom with a freshly painted floor, the door opened and, in +a travelling costume of long boots, big sheepskin cap, and a short coat +girt with a leather belt, the Mr. V. S. (of noble extraction), a man of +about thirty-five, appeared with an air of perplexity on his open +and mustached countenance. I got up from the table and greeted him in +Polish, with, I hope, the right shade of consideration demanded by his +noble blood and his confidential position. His face cleared up in a +wonderful way. It appeared that, notwithstanding my uncle's earnest +assurances, the good fellow had remained in doubt of our understanding +each other. He imagined I would talk to him in some foreign language. + +I was told that his last words on getting into the sledge to come to +meet me shaped an anxious exclamation: + +"Well! Well! Here I am going, but God only knows how I am to make myself +understood to our master's nephew." + +We understood each other very well from the first. He took charge of +me as if I were not quite of age. I had a delightful boyish feeling +of coming home from school when he muffled me up next morning in an +enormous bearskin travelling-coat and took his seat protectively by +my side. The sledge was a very small one, and it looked utterly +insignificant, almost like a toy behind the four big bays harnessed two +and two. We three, counting the coachman, filled it completely. He was +a young fellow with clear blue eyes; the high collar of his livery fur +coat framed his cheery countenance and stood all round level with the +top of his head. + +"Now, Joseph," my companion addressed him, "do you think we shall manage +to get home before six?" His answer was that we would surely, with +God's help, and providing there were no heavy drifts in the long stretch +between certain villages whose names came with an extremely familiar +sound to my ears. He turned out an excellent coachman, with an instinct +for keeping the road among the snow-covered fields and a natural gift of +getting the best out of his horses. + +"He is the son of that Joseph that I suppose the Captain remembers. +He who used to drive the Captain's late grandmother of holy memory," +remarked V. S., busy tucking fur rugs about my feet. + +I remembered perfectly the trusty Joseph who used to drive my +grandmother. Why! he it was who let me hold the reins for the first +time in my life and allowed me to play with the great four-in-hand whip +outside the doors of the coach-house. + +"What became of him?" I asked. "He is no longer serving, I suppose." + +"He served our master," was the reply. "But he died of cholera ten years +ago now--that great epidemic that we had. And his wife died at the same +time--the whole houseful of them, and this is the only boy that was +left." + +The MS. of "Almayer's Folly" was reposing in the bag under our feet. + +I saw again the sun setting on the plains as I saw it in the travels of +my childhood. It set, clear and red, dipping into the snow in full view +as if it were setting on the sea. It was twenty-three years since I had +seen the sun set over that land; and we drove on in the darkness which +fell swiftly upon the livid expanse of snows till, out of the waste of a +white earth joining a bestarred sky, surged up black shapes, the clumps +of trees about a village of the Ukrainian plain. A cottage or two glided +by, a low interminable wall, and then, glimmering and winking through a +screen of fir-trees, the lights of the master's house. + +That very evening the wandering MS. of "Almayer's Folly" was unpacked +and unostentatiously laid on the writing-table in my room, the +guest-room which had been, I was informed in an affectionately careless +tone, awaiting me for some fifteen years or so. It attracted no +attention from the affectionate presence hovering round the son of the +favourite sister. + +"You won't have many hours to yourself while you are staying with me, +brother," he said--this form of address borrowed from the speech of +our peasants being the usual expression of the highest good humour in +a moment of affectionate elation. "I shall be always coming in for a +chat." + +As a matter of fact, we had the whole house to chat in, and were +everlastingly intruding upon each other. I invaded the retirement of +his study where the principal feature was a colossal silver inkstand +presented to him on his fiftieth year by a subscription of all his +wards then living. He had been guardian of many orphans of land-owning +families from the three southern provinces--ever since the year 1860. +Some of them had been my school fellows and playmates, but not one of +them, girls or boys, that I know of has ever written a novel. One or two +were older than myself--considerably older, too. One of them, a visitor +I remember in my early years, was the man who first put me on horseback, +and his four-horse bachelor turnout, his perfect horsemanship and +general skill in manly exercises, was one of my earliest admirations. I +seem to remember my mother looking on from a colonnade in front of the +dining-room windows as I was lifted upon the pony, held, for all I know, +by the very Joseph--the groom attached specially to my grandmother's +service--who died of cholera. It was certainly a young man in a +dark-blue, tailless coat and huge Cossack trousers, that being the +livery of the men about the stables. It must have been in 1864, but +reckoning by another mode of calculating time, it was certainly in the +year in which my mother obtained permission to travel south and visit +her family, from the exile into which she had followed my father. For +that, too, she had had to ask permission, and I know that one of the +conditions of that favour was that she should be treated exactly as a +condemned exile herself. Yet a couple of years later, in memory of her +eldest brother, who had served in the Guards and dying early left hosts +of friends and a loved memory in the great world of St. Petersburg, +some influential personages procured for her this permission--it was +officially called the "Highest Grace"--of a four months' leave from +exile. + +This is also the year in which I first begin to remember my mother with +more distinctness than a mere loving, wide-browed, silent, protecting +presence, whose eyes had a sort of commanding sweetness; and I also +remember the great gathering of all the relations from near and far, and +the gray heads of the family friends paying her the homage of respect +and love in the house of her favourite brother, who, a few years later, +was to take the place for me of both my parents. + +I did not understand the tragic significance of it all at the time, +though, indeed, I remember that doctors also came. There were no signs +of invalidism about her--but I think that already they had pronounced +her doom unless perhaps the change to a southern climate could +re-establish her declining strength. For me it seems the very +happiest period of my existence. There was my cousin, a delightful, +quick-tempered little girl, some months younger than myself, whose life, +lovingly watched over as if she were a royal princess, came to an end +with her fifteenth year. There were other children, too, many of whom +are dead now, and not a few whose very names I have forgotten. Over all +this hung the oppressive shadow of the great Russian empire--the shadow +lowering with the darkness of a new-born national hatred fostered by +the Moscow school of journalists against the Poles after the ill-omened +rising of 1863. + +This is a far cry back from the MS. of "Almayer's Folly," but the public +record of these formative impressions is not the whim of an uneasy +egotism. These, too, are things human, already distant in their appeal. +It is meet that something more should be left for the novelist's +children than the colours and figures of his own hard-won creation. That +which in their grown-up years may appear to the world about them as the +most enigmatic side of their natures and perhaps must remain forever +obscure even to themselves, will be their unconscious response to the +still voice of that inexorable past from which his work of fiction and +their personalities are remotely derived. + +Only in men's imagination does every truth find an effective and +undeniable existence. Imagination, not invention, is the supreme master +of art as of life. An imaginative and exact rendering of authentic +memories may serve worthily that spirit of piety toward all things human +which sanctions the conceptions of a writer of tales, and the emotions +of the man reviewing his own experience. + + +II + +As I have said, I was unpacking my luggage after a journey from London +into Ukraine. The MS. of "Almayer's Folly"--my companion already for +some three years or more, and then in the ninth chapter of its age--was +deposited unostentatiously on the writing-table placed between two +windows. It didn't occur to me to put it away in the drawer the table +was fitted with, but my eye was attracted by the good form of the same +drawer's brass handles. Two candelabra, with four candles each, lighted +up festally the room which had waited so many years for the wandering +nephew. The blinds were down. + +Within five hundred yards of the chair on which I sat stood the first +peasant hut of the village--part of my maternal grandfather's estate, +the only part remaining in the possession of a member of the family; and +beyond the village in the limitless blackness of a winter's night there +lay the great unfenced fields--not a flat and severe plain, but a kindly +bread-giving land of low rounded ridges, all white now, with the black +patches of timber nestling in the hollows. The road by which I had come +ran through the village with a turn just outside the gates closing the +short drive. Somebody was abroad on the deep snow track; a quick tinkle +of bells stole gradually into the stillness of the room like a tuneful +whisper. + +My unpacking had been watched over by the servant who had come to help +me, and, for the most part, had been standing attentive but unnecessary +at the door of the room. I did not want him in the least, but I did not +like to tell him to go away. He was a young fellow, certainly more +than ten years younger than myself; I had not been--I won't say in that +place, but within sixty miles of it, ever since the year '67; yet +his guileless physiognomy of the open peasant type seemed strangely +familiar. It was quite possible that he might have been a descendant, a +son, or even a grandson, of the servants whose friendly faces had been +familiar to me in my early childhood. As a matter of fact he had no such +claim on my consideration. He was the product of some village near by +and was there on his promotion, having learned the service in one or two +houses as pantry boy. I know this because I asked the worthy V---- next +day. I might well have spared the question. I discovered before long +that all the faces about the house and all the faces in the village: +the grave faces with long mustaches of the heads of families, the downy +faces of the young men, the faces of the little fair-haired children, +the handsome, tanned, wide-browed faces of the mothers seen at the doors +of the huts, were as familiar to me as though I had known them all from +childhood and my childhood were a matter of the day before yesterday. + +The tinkle of the traveller's bells, after growing louder, had faded +away quickly, and the tumult of barking dogs in the village had calmed +down at last. My uncle, lounging in the corner of a small couch, smoked +his long Turkish chibouk in silence. + +"This is an extremely nice writing-table you have got for my room," I +remarked. + +"It is really your property," he said, keeping his eyes on me, with +an interested and wistful expression, as he had done ever since I had +entered the house. "Forty years ago your mother used to write at this +very table. In our house in Oratow, it stood in the little sitting-room +which, by a tacit arrangement, was given up to the girls--I mean to +your mother and her sister who died so young. It was a present to them +jointly from your uncle Nicholas B. when your mother was seventeen and +your aunt two years younger. She was a very dear, delightful girl, that +aunt of yours, of whom I suppose you know nothing more than the name. +She did not shine so much by personal beauty and a cultivated mind in +which your mother was far superior. It was her good sense, the admirable +sweetness of her nature, her exceptional facility and ease in daily +relations, that endeared her to everybody. Her death was a terrible +grief and a serious moral loss for us all. Had she lived she would have +brought the greatest blessings to the house it would have been her lot +to enter, as wife, mother, and mistress of a household. She would have +created round herself an atmosphere of peace and content which only +those who can love unselfishly are able to evoke. Your mother--of far +greater beauty, exceptionally distinguished in person, manner, and +intellect--had a less easy disposition. Being more brilliantly gifted, +she also expected more from life. At that trying time especially, we +were greatly concerned about her state. Suffering in her health from the +shock of her father's death (she was alone in the house with him when he +died suddenly), she was torn by the inward struggle between her love for +the man whom she was to marry in the end and her knowledge of her dead +father's declared objection to that match. Unable to bring herself +to disregard that cherished memory and that judgment she had always +respected and trusted, and, on the other hand, feeling the impossibility +to resist a sentiment so deep and so true, she could not have been +expected to preserve her mental and moral balance. At war with herself, +she could not give to others that feeling of peace which was not her +own. It was only later, when united at last with the man of her +choice, that she developed those uncommon gifts of mind and heart which +compelled the respect and admiration even of our foes. Meeting with calm +fortitude the cruel trials of a life reflecting all the national +and social misfortunes of the community, she realized the highest +conceptions of duty as a wife, a mother, and a patriot, sharing +the exile of her husband and representing nobly the ideal of Polish +womanhood. Our uncle Nicholas was not a man very accessible to feelings +of affection. Apart from his worship for Napoleon the Great, he loved +really, I believe, only three people in the world: his mother--your +great-grandmother, whom you have seen but cannot possibly remember; his +brother, our father, in whose house he lived for so many years; and +of all of us, his nephews and nieces grown up around him, your mother +alone. The modest, lovable qualities of the youngest sister he did not +seem able to see. It was I who felt most profoundly this unexpected +stroke of death falling upon the family less than a year after I had +become its head. It was terribly unexpected. Driving home one wintry +afternoon to keep me company in our empty house, where I had to remain +permanently administering the estate and at tending to the complicated +affairs--(the girls took it in turn week and week about)--driving, as +I said, from the house of the Countess Tekla Potocka, where our invalid +mother was staying then to be near a doctor, they lost the road and got +stuck in a snow drift. She was alone with the coachman and old Valery, +the personal servant of our late father. Impatient of delay while they +were trying to dig themselves out, she jumped out of the sledge and went +to look for the road herself. All this happened in '51, not ten miles +from the house in which we are sitting now. + +"The road was soon found, but snow had begun to fall thickly again, and +they were four more hours getting home. Both the men took off their +sheepskin lined greatcoats and used all their own rugs to wrap her up +against the cold, notwithstanding her protests, positive orders, and +even struggles, as Valery afterward related to me. 'How could I,' he +remonstrated with her, 'go to meet the blessed soul of my late master +if I let any harm come to you while there's a spark of life left in my +body?' When they reached home at last the poor old man was stiff and +speechless from exposure, and the coachman was in not much better +plight, though he had the strength to drive round to the stables +himself. To my reproaches for venturing out at all in such weather, she +answered, characteristically, that she could not bear the thought of +abandoning me to my cheerless solitude. It is incomprehensible how it +was that she was allowed to start. I suppose it had to be! She made +light of the cough which came on next day, but shortly afterward +inflammation of the lungs set in, and in three weeks she was no more! +She was the first to be taken away of the young generation under my +care. Behold the vanity of all hopes and fears! I was the most frail +at birth of all the children. For years I remained so delicate that my +parents had but little hope of bringing me up; and yet I have survived +five brothers and two sisters, and many of my contemporaries; I have +outlived my wife and daughter, too--and from all those who have had some +knowledge at least of these old times you alone are left. It has been +my lot to lay in an early grave many honest hearts, many brilliant +promises, many hopes full of life." + +He got up briskly, sighed, and left me saying, "We will dine in half an +hour." + +Without moving, I listened to his quick steps resounding on the waxed +floor of the next room, traversing the anteroom lined with bookshelves, +where he paused to put his chibouk in the pipe-stand before passing into +the drawing-room (these were all en suite), where he became inaudible +on the thick carpet. But I heard the door of his study-bedroom close. He +was then sixty-two years old and had been for a quarter of a century the +wisest, the firmest, the most indulgent of guardians, extending over me +a paternal care and affection, a moral support which I seemed to feel +always near me in the most distant parts of the earth. + +As to Mr. Nicholas B., sub-lieutenant of 1808, lieutenant of 1813 in +the French army, and for a short time _Officier d'Ordonnance_ of Marshal +Marmont; afterward captain in the 2d Regiment of Mounted Rifles in +the Polish army--such as it existed up to 1830 in the reduced kingdom +established by the Congress of Vienna--I must say that from all that +more distant past, known to me traditionally and a little _de visu_, and +called out by the words of the man just gone away, he remains the most +incomplete figure. It is obvious that I must have seen him in '64, for +it is certain that he would not have missed the opportunity of seeing my +mother for what he must have known would be the last time. From my early +boyhood to this day, if I try to call up his image, a sort of mist rises +before my eyes, mist in which I perceive vaguely only a neatly brushed +head of white hair (which is exceptional in the case of the B. family, +where it is the rule for men to go bald in a becoming manner before +thirty) and a thin, curved, dignified nose, a feature in strict +accordance with the physical tradition of the B. family. But it is not +by these fragmentary remains of perishable mortality that he lives in my +memory. I knew, at a very early age, that my granduncle Nicholas B. was +a Knight of the Legion of Honour and that he had also the Polish Cross +for _valour Virtuti Militari_. The knowledge of these glorious facts +inspired in me an admiring veneration; yet it is not that sentiment, +strong as it was, which resumes for me the force and the significance of +his personality. It is overborne by another and complex impression +of awe, compassion, and horror. Mr. Nicholas B. remains for me the +unfortunate and miserable (but heroic) being who once upon a time had +eaten a dog. + +It is a good forty years since I heard the tale, and the effect has not +worn off yet. I believe this is the very first, say, realistic, story I +heard in my life; but all the same I don't know why I should have been +so frightfully impressed. Of course I know what our village dogs look +like--but still. . . . No! At this very day, recalling the horror +and compassion of my childhood, I ask myself whether I am right in +disclosing to a cold and fastidious world that awful episode in the +family history. I ask myself--is it right?--especially as the B. family +had always been honourably known in a wide countryside for the delicacy +of their tastes in the matter of eating and drinking. But upon the +whole, and considering that this gastronomical degradation overtaking a +gallant young officer lies really at the door of the Great Napoleon, +I think that to cover it up by silence would be an exaggeration of +literary restraint. Let the truth stand here. The responsibility rests +with the Man of St. Helena in view of his deplorable levity in the +conduct of the Russian campaign. It was during the memorable retreat +from Moscow that Mr. Nicholas B., in company of two brother officers--as +to whose morality and natural refinement I know nothing--bagged a dog +on the outskirts of a village and subsequently devoured him. As far as +I can remember the weapon used was a cavalry sabre, and the issue of the +sporting episode was rather more of a matter of life and death than if +it had been an encounter with a tiger. A picket of Cossacks was sleeping +in that village lost in the depths of the great Lithuanian forest. The +three sportsmen had observed them from a hiding-place making themselves +very much at home among the huts just before the early winter darkness +set in at four o'clock. They had observed them with disgust and, +perhaps, with despair. Late in the night the rash counsels of hunger +overcame the dictates of prudence. Crawling through the snow they crept +up to the fence of dry branches which generally encloses a village in +that part of Lithuania. What they expected to get and in what manner, +and whether this expectation was worth the risk, goodness only knows. + +However, these Cossack parties, in most cases wandering without an +officer, were known to guard themselves badly and often not at all. In +addition, the village lying at a great distance from the line of French +retreat, they could not suspect the presence of stragglers from the +Grand Army. The three officers had strayed away in a blizzard from the +main column and had been lost for days in the woods, which explains +sufficiently the terrible straits to which they were reduced. Their plan +was to try and attract the attention of the peasants in that one of the +huts which was nearest to the enclosure; but as they were preparing to +venture into the very jaws of the lion, so to speak, a dog (it is mighty +strange that there was but one), a creature quite as formidable under +the circumstances as a lion, began to bark on the other side of the +fence. . . . + +At this stage of the narrative, which I heard many times (by request) +from the lips of Captain Nicholas B.'s sister-in-law, my grandmother, I +used to tremble with excitement. + +The dog barked. And if he had done no more than bark, three officers of +the Great Napoleon's army would have perished honourably on the points +of Cossacks' lances, or perchance escaping the chase would have died +decently of starvation. But before they had time to think of running +away that fatal and revolting dog, being carried away by the excess of +the zeal, dashed out through a gap in the fence. He dashed out and +died. His head, I understand, was severed at one blow from his body. +I understand also that later on, within the gloomy solitudes of the +snow-laden woods, when, in a sheltering hollow, a fire had been lit by +the party, the condition of the quarry was discovered to be distinctly +unsatisfactory. It was not thin--on the contrary, it seemed unhealthily +obese; its skin showed bare patches of an unpleasant character. However, +they had not killed that dog for the sake of the pelt. He was large. +. . . He was eaten. . . . The rest is silence. . . . + +A silence in which a small boy shudders and says firmly: + +"I could not have eaten that dog." + +And his grandmother remarks with a smile: + +"Perhaps you don't know what it is to be hungry." + +I have learned something of it since. Not that I have been reduced to +eat dog. I have fed on the emblematical animal, which, in the language +of the volatile Gauls, is called la vache enragee; I have lived on +ancient salt junk, I know the taste of shark, of trepang, of snake, +of nondescript dishes containing things without a name--but of the +Lithuanian village dog--never! I wish it to be distinctly understood +that it is not I, but my granduncle Nicholas, of the Polish landed +gentry, Chevalier de la Legion d'Honneur, etc., who in his young days, +had eaten the Lithuanian dog. + +I wish he had not. The childish horror of the deed clings absurdly +to the grizzled man. I am perfectly helpless against it. Still, if +he really had to, let us charitably remember that he had eaten him on +active service, while bearing up bravely against the greatest military +disaster of modern history, and, in a manner, for the sake of his +country. He had eaten him to appease his hunger, no doubt, but also for +the sake of an unappeasable and patriotic desire, in the glow of a great +faith that lives still, and in the pursuit of a great illusion kindled +like a false beacon by a great man to lead astray the effort of a brave +nation. + +_Pro patria!_ + +Looked at in that light, it appears a sweet and decorous meal. + +And looked at in the same light, my own diet of la vache enragee appears +a fatuous and extravagant form of self-indulgence; for why should I, +the son of a land which such men as these have turned up with their +plowshares and bedewed with their blood, undertake the pursuit of +fantastic meals of salt junk and hardtack upon the wide seas? On +the kindest view it seems an unanswerable question. Alas! I have the +conviction that there are men of unstained rectitude who are ready +to murmur scornfully the word desertion. Thus the taste of innocent +adventure may be made bitter to the palate. The part of the inexplicable +should be allowed for in appraising the conduct of men in a world where +no explanation is final. No charge of faithlessness ought to be lightly +uttered. The appearances of this perishable life are deceptive, like +everything that falls under the judgment of our imperfect senses. The +inner voice may remain true enough in its secret counsel. The fidelity +to a special tradition may last through the events of an unrelated +existence, following faithfully, too, the traced way of an inexplicable +impulse. + +It would take too long to explain the intimate alliance of +contradictions in human nature which makes love itself wear at times +the desperate shape of betrayal. And perhaps there is no possible +explanation. Indulgence--as somebody said--is the most intelligent of +all the virtues. I venture to think that it is one of the least common, +if not the most uncommon of all. I would not imply by this that men +are foolish--or even most men. Far from it. The barber and the priest, +backed by the whole opinion of the village, condemned justly the conduct +of the ingenious hidalgo, who, sallying forth from his native place, +broke the head of the muleteer, put to death a flock of inoffensive +sheep, and went through very doleful experiences in a certain stable. +God forbid that an unworthy churl should escape merited censure by +hanging on to the stirrup-leather of the sublime caballero. His was a +very noble, a very unselfish fantasy, fit for nothing except to raise +the envy of baser mortals. But there is more than one aspect to the +charm of that exalted and dangerous figure. He, too, had his frailties. +After reading so many romances he desired naively to escape with his +very body from the intolerable reality of things. He wished to meet, eye +to eye, the valorous giant Brandabarbaran, Lord of Arabia, whose armour +is made of the skin of a dragon, and whose shield, strapped to his arm, +is the gate of a fortified city. Oh, amiable and natural weakness! +Oh, blessed simplicity of a gentle heart without guile! Who would not +succumb to such a consoling temptation? Nevertheless, it was a form of +self-indulgence, and the ingenious hidalgo of La Mancha was not a +good citizen. The priest and the barber were not unreasonable in their +strictures. Without going so far as the old King Louis-Philippe, who +used to say in his exile, "The people are never in fault"--one may admit +that there must be some righteousness in the assent of a whole village. +Mad! Mad! He who kept in pious meditation the ritual vigil-of-arms by +the well of an inn and knelt reverently to be knighted at daybreak by +the fat, sly rogue of a landlord has come very near perfection. He +rides forth, his head encircled by a halo--the patron saint of all lives +spoiled or saved by the irresistible grace of imagination. But he was +not a good citizen. + +Perhaps that and nothing else was meant by the well-remembered +exclamation of my tutor. + +It was in the jolly year 1873, the very last year in which I have had a +jolly holiday. There have been idle years afterward, jolly enough in a +way and not altogether without their lesson, but this year of which +I speak was the year of my last school-boy holiday. There are other +reasons why I should remember that year, but they are too long to state +formally in this place. Moreover, they have nothing to do with that +holiday. What has to do with the holiday is that before the day on which +the remark was made we had seen Vienna, the Upper Danube, Munich, the +Falls of the Rhine, the Lake of Constance,--in fact, it was a memorable +holiday of travel. Of late we had been tramping slowly up the Valley of +the Reuss. It was a delightful time. It was much more like a stroll than +a tramp. Landing from a Lake of Lucerne steamer in Fluelen, we found +ourselves at the end of the second day, with the dusk overtaking our +leisurely footsteps, a little way beyond Hospenthal. This is not the day +on which the remark was made: in the shadows of the deep valley and with +the habitations of men left some way behind, our thoughts ran not upon +the ethics of conduct, but upon the simpler human problem of shelter +and food. There did not seem anything of the kind in sight, and we were +thinking of turning back when suddenly, at a bend of the road, we came +upon a building, ghostly in the twilight. + +At that time the work on the St. Gothard Tunnel was going on, and that +magnificent enterprise of burrowing was directly responsible for the +unexpected building, standing all alone upon the very roots of the +mountains. It was long, though not big at all; it was low; it was built +of boards, without ornamentation, in barrack-hut style, with the white +window-frames quite flush with the yellow face of its plain front. And +yet it was a hotel; it had even a name, which I have forgotten. But +there was no gold laced doorkeeper at its humble door. A plain but +vigorous servant-girl answered our inquiries, then a man and woman who +owned the place appeared. It was clear that no travellers were expected, +or perhaps even desired, in this strange hostelry, which in its severe +style resembled the house which sur mounts the unseaworthy-looking hulls +of the toy Noah's Arks, the universal possession of European childhood. +However, its roof was not hinged and it was not full to the brim of +slab-sided and painted animals of wood. Even the live tourist animal was +nowhere in evidence. We had something to eat in a long, narrow room at +one end of a long, narrow table, which, to my tired perception and to my +sleepy eyes, seemed as if it would tilt up like a see saw plank, since +there was no one at the other end to balance it against our two dusty +and travel-stained figures. Then we hastened up stairs to bed in a room +smelling of pine planks, and I was fast asleep before my head touched +the pillow. + +In the morning my tutor (he was a student of the Cracow University) woke +me up early, and as we were dressing remarked: "There seems to be a lot +of people staying in this hotel. I have heard a noise of talking up +till eleven o'clock." This statement surprised me; I had heard no noise +whatever, having slept like a top. + +We went down-stairs into the long and narrow dining-room with its long +and narrow table. There were two rows of plates on it. At one of the +many curtained windows stood a tall, bony man with a bald head set off +by a bunch of black hair above each ear, and with a long, black beard. +He glanced up from the paper he was reading and seemed genuinely +astonished at our intrusion. By and by more men came in. Not one of them +looked like a tourist. Not a single woman appeared. These men seemed to +know each other with some intimacy, but I cannot say they were a very +talkative lot. The bald-headed man sat down gravely at the head of the +table. It all had the air of a family party. By and by, from one of the +vigorous servant-girls in national costume, we discovered that the place +was really a boarding house for some English engineers engaged at the +works of the St. Gothard Tunnel; and I could listen my fill to +the sounds of the English language, as far as it is used at a +breakfast-table by men who do not believe in wasting many words on the +mere amenities of life. + +This was my first contact with British mankind apart from the tourist +kind seen in the hotels of Zurich and Lucerne--the kind which has no +real existence in a workaday world. I know now that the bald-headed man +spoke with a strong Scotch accent. I have met many of his kind ashore +and afloat. The second engineer of the steamer Mavis, for instance, +ought to have been his twin brother. I cannot help thinking that he +really was, though for some reason of his own he assured me that he +never had a twin brother. Anyway, the deliberate, bald-headed Scot with +the coal-black beard appeared to my boyish eyes a very romantic and +mysterious person. + +We slipped out unnoticed. Our mapped-out route led over the Furca Pass +toward the Rhone Glacier, with the further intention of following down +the trend of the Hasli Valley. The sun was already declining when we +found ourselves on the top of the pass, and the remark alluded to was +presently uttered. + +We sat down by the side of the road to continue the argument begun half +a mile or so before. I am certain it was an argument, because I remember +perfectly how my tutor argued and how without the power of reply I +listened, with my eyes fixed obstinately on the ground. A stir on the +road made me look up--and then I saw my unforgettable Englishman. There +are acquaintances of later years, familiars, shipmates, whom I remember +less clearly. He marched rapidly toward the east (attended by a hang-dog +Swiss guide), with the mien of an ardent and fearless traveller. He +was clad in a knickerbocker suit, but as at the same time he wore short +socks under his laced boots, for reasons which, whether hygienic or +conscientious, were surely imaginative, his calves, exposed to the +public gaze and to the tonic air of high altitudes, dazzled the beholder +by the splendour of their marble-like condition and their rich tone +of young ivory. He was the leader of a small caravan. The light of a +headlong, exalted satisfaction with the world of men and the scenery +of mountains illumined his clean-cut, very red face, his short, +silver-white whiskers, his innocently eager and triumphant eyes. In +passing he cast a glance of kindly curiosity and a friendly gleam of +big, sound, shiny teeth toward the man and the boy sitting like dusty +tramps by the roadside, with a modest knapsack lying at their feet. His +white calves twinkled sturdily, the uncouth Swiss guide with a surly +mouth stalked like an unwilling bear at his elbow; a small train +of three mules followed in single file the lead of this inspiring +enthusiast. Two ladies rode past, one behind the other, but from the way +they sat I saw only their calm, uniform backs, and the long ends of blue +veils hanging behind far down over their identical hat-brims. His two +daughters, surely. An industrious luggage-mule, with unstarched ears and +guarded by a slouching, sallow driver, brought up the rear. My tutor, +after pausing for a look and a faint smile, resumed his earnest +argument. + +I tell you it was a memorable year! One does not meet such an Englishman +twice in a lifetime. Was he in the mystic ordering of common events the +ambassador of my future, sent out to turn the scale at a critical moment +on the top of an Alpine pass, with the peaks of the Bernese Oberland for +mute and solemn witnesses? His glance, his smile, the unextinguishable +and comic ardour of his striving-forward appearance, helped me to +pull myself together. It must be stated that on that day and in the +exhilarating atmosphere of that elevated spot I had been feeling utterly +crushed. It was the year in which I had first spoken aloud of my desire +to go to sea. At first like those sounds that, ranging outside the +scale to which men's ears are attuned, remain inaudible to our sense of +hearing, this declaration passed unperceived. It was as if it had not +been. Later on, by trying various tones, I managed to arouse here +and there a surprised momentary attention--the "What was that funny +noise?"--sort of inquiry. Later on it was: "Did you hear what that boy +said? What an extraordinary outbreak!" Presently a wave of scandalized +astonishment (it could not have been greater if I had announced +the intention of entering a Carthusian monastery) ebbing out of the +educational and academical town of Cracow spread itself over several +provinces. It spread itself shallow but far-reaching. It stirred up a +mass of remonstrance, indignation, pitying wonder, bitter irony, and +downright chaff. I could hardly breathe under its weight, and certainly +had no words for an answer. People wondered what Mr. T. B. would do now +with his worrying nephew and, I dare say, hoped kindly that he would +make short work of my nonsense. + +What he did was to come down all the way from Ukraine to have it out +with me and to judge by himself, unprejudiced, impartial, and just, +taking his stand on the ground of wisdom and affection. As far as is +possible for a boy whose power of expression is still unformed I opened +the secret of my thoughts to him, and he in return allowed me a glimpse +into his mind and heart; the first glimpse of an inexhaustible and noble +treasure of clear thought and warm feeling, which through life was to +be mine to draw upon with a never-deceived love and confidence. +Practically, after several exhaustive conversations, he concluded that +he would not have me later on reproach him for having spoiled my life +by an unconditional opposition. But I must take time for serious +reflection. And I must think not only of myself but of others; weigh the +claims of affection and conscience against my own sincerity of purpose. +"Think well what it all means in the larger issues--my boy," he exhorted +me, finally, with special friendliness. "And meantime try to get the +best place you can at the yearly examinations." + +The scholastic year came to an end. I took a fairly good place at +the exams, which for me (for certain reasons) happened to be a more +difficult task than for other boys. In that respect I could enter with +a good conscience upon that holiday which was like a long visit _pour +prendre conge_ of the mainland of old Europe I was to see so little of +for the next four-and-twenty years. Such, however, was not the avowed +purpose of that tour. It was rather, I suspect, planned in order to +distract and occupy my thoughts in other directions. Nothing had been +said for months of my going to sea. But my attachment to my young tutor +and his influence over me were so well known that he must have received +a confidential mission to talk me out of my romantic folly. It was an +excellently appropriate arrangement, as neither he nor I had ever had a +single glimpse of the sea in our lives. That was to come by and by for +both of us in Venice, from the outer shore of Lido. Meantime he had +taken his mission to heart so well that I began to feel crushed before +we reached Zurich. He argued in railway trains, in lake steamboats, he +had argued away for me the obligatory sunrise on the Righi, by Jove! Of +his devotion to his unworthy pupil there can be no doubt. He had proved +it already by two years of unremitting and arduous care. I could not +hate him. But he had been crushing me slowly, and when he started to +argue on the top of the Furca Pass he was perhaps nearer a success +than either he or I imagined. I listened to him in despairing silence, +feeling that ghostly, unrealized, and desired sea of my dreams escape +from the unnerved grip of my will. + +The enthusiastic old Englishman had passed--and the argument went on. +What reward could I expect from such a life at the end of my years, +either in ambition, honour, or conscience? An unanswerable question. But +I felt no longer crushed. Then our eyes met and a genuine emotion was +visible in his as well as in mine. The end came all at once. He picked +up the knapsack suddenly and got onto his feet. + +"You are an incorrigible, hopeless Don Quixote. That's what you are." + +I was surprised. I was only fifteen and did not know what he meant +exactly. But I felt vaguely flattered at the name of the immortal knight +turning up in connection with my own folly, as some people would call it +to my face. Alas! I don't think there was anything to be proud of. Mine +was not the stuff of protectors of forlorn damsels, the redressers of +this world's wrong are made of; and my tutor was the man to know that +best. Therein, in his indignation, he was superior to the barber and the +priest when he flung at me an honoured name like a reproach. + +I walked behind him for full five minutes; then without looking back he +stopped. The shadows of distant peaks were lengthening over the Furca +Pass. When I came up to him he turned to me and in full view of the +Finster Aarhorn, with his band of giant brothers rearing their +monstrous heads against a brilliant sky, put his hand on my shoulder +affectionately. + +"Well! That's enough. We will have no more of it." + +And indeed there was no more question of my mysterious vocation between +us. There was to be no more question of it at all, no where or with any +one. We began the descent of the Furca Pass conversing merrily. + +Eleven years later, month for month, I stood on Tower Hill on the steps +of the St. Katherine's Dockhouse, a master in the British Merchant +Service. But the man who put his hand on my shoulder at the top of the +Furca Pass was no longer living. + +That very year of our travels he took his degree of the Philosophical +Faculty--and only then his true vocation declared itself. Obedient to +the call, he entered at once upon the four-year course of the Medical +Schools. A day came when, on the deck of a ship moored in Calcutta, I +opened a letter telling me of the end of an enviable existence. He had +made for himself a practice in some obscure little town of Austrian +Galicia. And the letter went on to tell me how all the bereaved poor of +the district, Christians and Jews alike, had mobbed the good doctor's +coffin with sobs and lamentations at the very gate of the cemetery. + +How short his years and how clear his vision! What greater reward in +ambition, honour, and conscience could he have hoped to win for himself +when, on the top of the Furca Pass, he bade me look well to the end of +my opening life? + + +III + +The devouring in a dismal forest of a luckless Lithuanian dog by my +granduncle Nicholas B. in company of two other military and famished +scarecrows, symbolized, to my childish imagination, the whole horror of +the retreat from Moscow, and the immorality of a conqueror's ambition. +An extreme distaste for that objectionable episode has tinged the views +I hold as to the character and achievements of Napoleon the Great. I +need not say that these are unfavourable. It was morally reprehensible +for that great captain to induce a simple-minded Polish gentleman to eat +dog by raising in his breast a false hope of national independence. It +has been the fate of that credulous nation to starve for upward of a +hundred years on a diet of false hopes and--well--dog. It is, when one +thinks of it, a singularly poisonous regimen. Some pride in the national +constitution which has survived a long course of such dishes is really +excusable. + +But enough of generalizing. Returning to particulars, Mr. Nicholas B. +confided to his sister-in-law (my grandmother) in his misanthropically +laconic manner that this supper in the woods had been nearly "the death +of him." This is not surprising. What surprises me is that the story +was ever heard of; for granduncle Nicholas differed in this from the +generality of military men of Napoleon's time (and perhaps of all time) +that he did not like to talk of his campaigns, which began at Friedland +and ended some where in the neighbourhood of Bar-le-Duc. His admiration +of the great Emperor was unreserved in everything but expression. Like +the religion of earnest men, it was too profound a sentiment to be +displayed before a world of little faith. Apart from that he seemed as +completely devoid of military anecdotes as though he had hardly ever +seen a soldier in his life. Proud of his decorations earned before he +was twenty-five, he refused to wear the ribbons at the buttonhole in the +manner practised to this day in Europe and even was unwilling to display +the insignia on festive occasions, as though he wished to conceal them +in the fear of appearing boastful. + +"It is enough that I have them," he used to mutter. In the course of +thirty years they were seen on his breast only twice--at an auspicious +marriage in the family and at the funeral of an old friend. That the +wedding which was thus honoured was not the wedding of my mother +I learned only late in life, too late to bear a grudge against +Mr. Nicholas B., who made amends at my birth by a long letter of +congratulation containing the following prophecy: "He will see better +times." Even in his embittered heart there lived a hope. But he was not +a true prophet. + +He was a man of strange contradictions. Living for many years in his +brother's house, the home of many children, a house full of life, of +animation, noisy with a constant coming and going of many guests, he +kept his habits of solitude and silence. Considered as obstinately +secretive in all his purposes, he was in reality the victim of a most +painful irresolution in all matters of civil life. Under his taciturn, +phlegmatic behaviour was hidden a faculty of short-lived passionate +anger. I suspect he had no talent for narrative; but it seemed to afford +him sombre satisfaction to declare that he was the last man to ride over +the bridge of the river Elster after the battle of Leipsic. Lest some +construction favourable to his valour should be put on the fact he +condescended to explain how it came to pass. It seems that shortly after +the retreat began he was sent back to the town where some divisions +of the French army (and among them the Polish corps of Prince Joseph +Poniatowski), jammed hopelessly in the streets, were being simply +exterminated by the troops of the Allied Powers. When asked what it was +like in there, Mr. Nicholas B. muttered only the word "Shambles." Having +delivered his message to the Prince he hastened away at once to render +an account of his mission to the superior who had sent him. By that time +the advance of the enemy had enveloped the town, and he was shot at from +houses and chased all the way to the river-bank by a disorderly mob of +Austrian Dragoons and Prussian Hussars. The bridge had been mined early +in the morning, and his opinion was that the sight of the horsemen +converging from many sides in the pursuit of his person alarmed the +officer in command of the sappers and caused the premature firing of the +charges. He had not gone more than two hundred yards on the other +side when he heard the sound of the fatal explosions. Mr. Nicholas B. +concluded his bald narrative with the word "Imbecile," uttered with the +utmost deliberation. It testified to his indignation at the loss of so +many thousands of lives. But his phlegmatic physiognomy lighted up when +he spoke of his only wound, with something resembling satisfaction. You +will see that there was some reason for it when you learn that he was +wounded in the heel. "Like his Majesty the Emperor Napoleon himself," he +reminded his hearers, with assumed indifference. There can be no +doubt that the indifference was assumed, if one thinks what a very +distinguished sort of wound it was. In all the history of warfare there +are, I believe, only three warriors publicly known to have been wounded +in the heel--Achilles and Napoleon--demigods indeed--to whom the +familial piety of an unworthy descendant adds the name of the simple +mortal, Nicholas B. + +The Hundred Days found Mr. Nicholas B. staying with a distant relative +of ours, owner of a small estate in Galicia. How he got there across the +breadth of an armed Europe, and after what adventures, I am afraid will +never be known now. All his papers were destroyed shortly before his +death; but if there was among them, as he affirmed, a concise record +of his life, then I am pretty sure it did not take up more than a +half sheet of foolscap or so. This relative of ours happened to be +an Austrian officer who had left the service after the battle of +Austerlitz. Unlike Mr. Nicholas B., who concealed his decorations, he +liked to display his honourable discharge in which he was mentioned as +un schreckbar (fearless) before the enemy. No conjunction could seem +more unpromising, yet it stands in the family tradition that these two +got on very well together in their rural solitude. + +When asked whether he had not been sorely tempted during the Hundred +Days to make his way again to France and join the service of his beloved +Emperor, Mr. Nicholas B. used to mutter: "No money. No horse. Too far to +walk." + +The fall of Napoleon and the ruin of national hopes affected adversely +the character of Mr. Nicholas B. He shrank from returning to his +province. But for that there was also another reason. Mr. Nicholas B. +and his brother--my maternal grand father--had lost their father early, +while they were quite children. Their mother, young still and left +very well off, married again a man of great charm and of an amiable +disposition, but without a penny. He turned out an affectionate and +careful stepfather; it was unfortunate, though, that while directing the +boys' education and forming their character by wise counsel, he did his +best to get hold of the fortune by buying and selling land in his own +name and investing capital in such a manner as to cover up the traces +of the real ownership. It seems that such practices can be successful if +one is charming enough to dazzle one's own wife permanently, and brave +enough to defy the vain terrors of public opinion. The critical time +came when the elder of the boys on attaining his majority, in the year +1811, asked for the accounts and some part at least of the inheritance +to begin life upon. It was then that the stepfather declared with +calm finality that there were no accounts to render and no property to +inherit. The whole fortune was his very own. He was very good-natured +about the young man's misapprehension of the true state of affairs, but, +of course, felt obliged to maintain his position firmly. Old friends +came and went busily, voluntary mediators appeared travelling on most +horrible roads from the most distant corners of the three provinces; +and the Marshal of the Nobility (ex-officio guardian of all well-born +orphans) called a meeting of landowners to "ascertain in a friendly +way how the misunderstanding between X and his stepsons had arisen and +devise proper measures to remove the same." A deputation to that effect +visited X, who treated them to excellent wines, but absolutely refused +his ear to their remonstrances. As to the proposals for arbitration he +simply laughed at them; yet the whole province must have been aware +that fourteen years before, when he married the widow, all his +visible fortune consisted (apart from his social qualities) in a smart +four-horse turnout with two servants, with whom he went about visiting +from house to house; and as to any funds he might have possessed at that +time their existence could only be inferred from the fact that he was +very punctual in settling his modest losses at cards. But by the magic +power of stubborn and constant assertion, there were found presently, +here and there, people who mumbled that surely "there must be some thing +in it." However, on his next name-day (which he used to celebrate by +a great three days' shooting party), of all the invited crowd only two +guests turned up, distant neighbours of no importance; one notoriously +a fool, and the other a very pious and honest person, but such a +passionate lover of the gun that on his own confession he could not have +refused an invitation to a shooting party from the devil himself. X met +this manifestation of public opinion with the serenity of an unstained +conscience. He refused to be crushed. Yet he must have been a man +of deep feeling, because, when his wife took openly the part of her +children, he lost his beautiful tranquillity, proclaimed himself +heartbroken, and drove her out of the house, neglecting in his grief to +give her enough time to pack her trunks. + +This was the beginning of a lawsuit, an abominable marvel of chicane, +which by the use of every legal subterfuge was made to last for many +years. It was also the occasion for a display of much kindness and +sympathy. All the neighbouring houses flew open for the reception of the +homeless. Neither legal aid nor material assistance in the prosecution +of the suit was ever wanting. X, on his side, went about shedding +tears publicly over his stepchildren's ingratitude and his wife's blind +infatuation; but as at the same time he displayed great cleverness +in the art of concealing material documents (he was even suspected of +having burned a lot of historically interesting family papers) this +scandalous litigation had to be ended by a compromise lest worse should +befall. It was settled finally by a surrender, out of the disputed +estate, in full satisfaction of all claims, of two villages with the +names of which I do not intend to trouble my readers. After this lame +and impotent conclusion neither the wife nor the stepsons had anything +to say to the man who had presented the world with such a successful +example of self-help based on character, determination, and industry; +and my great-grandmother, her health completely broken down, died a +couple of years later in Carlsbad. Legally secured by a decree in the +possession of his plunder, X regained his wonted serenity, and went on +living in the neighbourhood in a comfortable style and in apparent peace +of mind. His big shoots were fairly well attended again. He was never +tired of assuring people that he bore no grudge for what was past; +he protested loudly of his constant affection for his wife and +stepchildren. It was true, he said, that they had tried to strip him as +naked as a Turkish saint in the decline of his days; and because he had +defended himself from spoliation, as anybody else in his place would +have done, they had abandoned him now to the horrors of a solitary old +age. Nevertheless, his love for them survived these cruel blows. + +And there might have been some truth in his protestations. Very soon he +began to make overtures of friendship to his eldest stepson, my maternal +grandfather; and when these were peremptorily rejected he went on +renewing them again and again with characteristic obstinacy. For years +he persisted in his efforts at reconciliation, promising my grandfather +to execute a will in his favour if he only would be friends again to the +extent of calling now and then (it was fairly close neighbourhood for +these parts, forty miles or so), or even of putting in an appearance for +the great shoot on the name-day. My grandfather was an ardent lover of +every sport. His temperament was as free from hardness and animosity as +can be imagined. Pupil of the liberal-minded Benedictines who directed +the only public school of some standing then in the south, he had also +read deeply the authors of the eighteenth century. In him Christian +charity was joined to a philosophical indulgence for the failings of +human nature. But the memory of those miserably anxious early years, his +young man's years robbed of all generous illusions by the cynicism of +the sordid lawsuit, stood in the way of forgiveness. He never succumbed +to the fascination of the great shoot; and X, his heart set to the last +on reconciliation, with the draft of the will ready for signature kept +by his bedside, died intestate. + +The fortune thus acquired and augmented by a wise and careful management +passed to some distant relatives whom he had never seen and who even did +not bear his name. + +Meantime the blessing of general peace descended upon Europe. Mr. +Nicholas B., bidding good-bye to his hospitable relative, the "fearless" +Austrian officer, departed from Galicia, and without going near his +native place, where the odious lawsuit was still going on, proceeded +straight to Warsaw and entered the army of the newly constituted Polish +kingdom under the sceptre of Alexander I, Autocrat of all the Russias. + +This kingdom, created by the Vienna Congress as an acknowledgment to a +nation of its former independent existence, included only the central +provinces of the old Polish patrimony. A brother of the Emperor, the +Grand Duke Constantine (Pavlovitch), its Viceroy and Commander-in-Chief, +married morganatically to a Polish lady to whom he was fiercely +attached, extended this affection to what he called "My Poles" in +a capricious and savage manner. Sallow in complexion, with a Tartar +physiognomy and fierce little eyes, he walked with his fists clenched, +his body bent forward, darting suspicious glances from under an enormous +cocked hat. His intelligence was limited, and his sanity itself was +doubtful. The hereditary taint expressed itself, in his case, not by +mystic leanings as in his two brothers, Alexander and Nicholas (in their +various ways, for one was mystically liberal and the other mystically +autocratic), but by the fury of an uncontrollable temper which generally +broke out in disgusting abuse on the parade ground. He was a passionate +militarist and an amazing drill-master. He treated his Polish army as a +spoiled child treats a favourite toy, except that he did not take it to +bed with him at night. It was not small enough for that. But he played +with it all day and every day, delighting in the variety of pretty +uniforms and in the fun of incessant drilling. This childish passion, +not for war, but for mere militarism, achieved a desirable result. The +Polish army, in its equipment, in its armament, and in its battle-field +efficiency, as then understood, became, by the end of the year 1830, a +first-rate tactical instrument. Polish peasantry (not serfs) served in +the ranks by enlistment, and the officers belonged mainly to the smaller +nobility. Mr. Nicholas B., with his Napoleonic record, had no difficulty +in obtaining a lieutenancy, but the promotion in the Polish army was +slow, because, being a separate organization, it took no part in the +wars of the Russian Empire against either Persia or Turkey. Its first +campaign, against Russia itself, was to be its last. In 1831, on the +outbreak of the Revolution, Mr. Nicholas B. was the senior captain of +his regiment. Some time before he had been made head of the remount +establishment quartered outside the kingdom in our southern provinces, +whence almost all the horses for the Polish cavalry were drawn. For the +first time since he went away from home at the age of eighteen to begin +his military life by the battle of Friedland, Mr. Nicholas B. breathed +the air of the "Border," his native air. Unkind fate was lying in wait +for him among the scenes of his youth. At the first news of the rising +in Warsaw all the remount establishment, officers, "vets.," and the +very troopers, were put promptly under arrest and hurried off in a body +beyond the Dnieper to the nearest town in Russia proper. From there they +were dispersed to the distant parts of the empire. On this occasion poor +Mr. Nicholas B. penetrated into Russia much farther than he ever did in +the times of Napoleonic invasion, if much less willingly. Astrakan was +his destination. He remained there three years, allowed to live at +large in the town, but having to report himself every day at noon to the +military commandant, who used to detain him frequently for a pipe and +a chat. It is difficult to form a just idea of what a chat with Mr. +Nicholas B. could have been like. There must have been much compressed +rage under his taciturnity, for the commandant communicated to him +the news from the theatre of war, and this news was such as it could +be--that is, very bad for the Poles. Mr. Nicholas B. received these +communications with outward phlegm, but the Russian showed a warm +sympathy for his prisoner. "As a soldier myself I understand your +feelings. You, of course, would like to be in the thick of it. By +heavens! I am fond of you. If it were not for the terms of the military +oath I would let you go on my own responsibility. What difference could +it make to us, one more or less of you?" + +At other times he wondered with simplicity. + +"Tell me, Nicholas Stepanovitch" (my great-grandfather's name +was Stephen, and the commandant used the Russian form of polite +address)--"tell me why is it that you Poles are always looking for +trouble? What else could you expect from running up against Russia?" + +He was capable, too, of philosophical reflections. + +"Look at your Napoleon now. A great man. There is no denying it that he +was a great man as long as he was content to thrash those Germans and +Austrians and all those nations. But no! He must go to Russia looking +for trouble, and what's the consequence? Such as you see me; I have +rattled this sabre of mine on the pavements of Paris." + +After his return to Poland Mr. Nicholas B. described him as a "worthy +man but stupid," whenever he could be induced to speak of the conditions +of his exile. Declining the option offered him to enter the Russian +army, he was retired with only half the pension of his rank. His nephew +(my uncle and guardian) told me that the first lasting impression on +his memory as a child of four was the glad excitement reigning in his +parents' house on the day when Mr. Nicholas B. arrived home from his +detention in Russia. + +Every generation has its memories. The first memories of Mr. Nicholas +B. might have been shaped by the events of the last partition of Poland, +and he lived long enough to suffer from the last armed rising in 1863, +an event which affected the future of all my generation and has coloured +my earliest impressions. His brother, in whose house he had sheltered +for some seventeen years his misanthropical timidity before the +commonest problems of life, having died in the early fifties, Mr. +Nicholas B. had to screw his courage up to the sticking-point and come +to some decision as to the future. After a long and agonizing hesitation +he was persuaded at last to become the tenant of some fifteen hundred +acres out of the estate of a friend in the neighbourhood. + +The terms of the lease were very advantageous, but the retired situation +of the village and a plain, comfortable house in good repair were, I +fancy, the greatest inducements. He lived there quietly for about ten +years, seeing very few people and taking no part in the public life +of the province, such as it could be under an arbitrary bureaucratic +tyranny. His character and his patriotism were above suspicion; but +the organizers of the rising in their frequent journeys up and down the +province scrupulously avoided coming near his house. It was generally +felt that the repose of the old man's last years ought not to +be disturbed. Even such intimates as my paternal grandfather, +comrade-in-arms during Napoleon's Moscow campaign, and later on a fellow +officer in the Polish army, refrained from visiting his crony as the +date of the outbreak approached. My paternal grandfather's two sons and +his only daughter were all deeply involved in the revolutionary work; he +himself was of that type of Polish squire whose only ideal of patriotic +action was to "get into the saddle and drive them out." But even he +agreed that "dear Nicholas must not be worried." All this considerate +caution on the part of friends, both conspirators and others, did not +prevent Mr. Nicholas B. being made to feel the misfortunes of that +ill-omened year. + +Less than forty-eight hours after the beginning of the rebellion in that +part of the country, a squadron of scouting Cossacks passed through the +village and invaded the homestead. Most of them remained, formed between +the house and the stables, while several, dismounting, ransacked the +various outbuildings. The officer in command, accompanied by two men, +walked up to the front door. All the blinds on that side were down. +The officer told the servant who received him that he wanted to see his +master. He was answered that the master was away from home, which was +perfectly true. + +I follow here the tale as told afterward by the servant to my +granduncle's friends and relatives, and as I have heard it repeated. + +On receiving this answer the Cossack officer, who had been standing in +the porch, stepped into the house. + +"Where is the master gone, then?" + +"Our master went to J----" (the government town some fifty miles off) +"the day before yesterday." + +"There are only two horses in the stables. Where are the others?" + +"Our master always travels with his own horses" (meaning: not by post). +"He will be away a week or more. He was pleased to mention to me that he +had to attend to some business in the Civil Court." + +While the servant was speaking the officer looked about the hall. + +There was a door facing him, a door to the right, and a door to the +left. The officer chose to enter the room on the left, and ordered the +blinds to be pulled up. It was Mr. Nicholas B.'s study, with a couple of +tall bookcases, some pictures on the walls, and so on. Besides the +big centre-table, with books and papers, there was a quite small +writing-table, with several drawers, standing between the door and the +window in a good light; and at this table my granduncle usually sat +either to read or write. + +On pulling up the blind the servant was startled by the discovery that +the whole male population of the village was massed in front, trampling +down the flower-beds. There were also a few women among them. He was +glad to observe the village priest (of the Orthodox Church) coming up +the drive. The good man in his haste had tucked up his cassock as high +as the top of his boots. + +The officer had been looking at the backs of the books in the bookcases. +Then he perched himself on the edge of the centre table and remarked +easily: + +"Your master did not take you to town with him, then?" + +"I am the head servant, and he leaves me in charge of the house. It's a +strong, young chap that travels with our master. If--God forbid--there +was some accident on the road, he would be of much more use than I." + +Glancing through the window, he saw the priest arguing vehemently in the +thick of the crowd, which seemed subdued by his interference. Three or +four men, however, were talking with the Cossacks at the door. + +"And you don't think your master has gone to join the rebels maybe--eh?" +asked the officer. + +"Our master would be too old for that, surely. He's well over seventy, +and he's getting feeble, too. It's some years now since he's been on +horseback, and he can't walk much, either, now." + +The officer sat there swinging his leg, very quiet and indifferent. By +that time the peasants who had been talking with the Cossack troopers at +the door had been permitted to get into the hall. One or two more left +the crowd and followed them in. They were seven in all, and among them +the blacksmith, an ex-soldier. The servant appealed deferentially to the +officer. + +"Won't your honour be pleased to tell the people to go back to their +homes? What do they want to push themselves into the house like this +for? It's not proper for them to behave like this while our master's +away and I am responsible for everything here." + +The officer only laughed a little, and after a while inquired: + +"Have you any arms in the house?" + +"Yes. We have. Some old things." + +"Bring them all here, onto this table." + +The servant made another attempt to obtain protection. + +"Won't your honour tell these chaps. . . ?" + +But the officer looked at him in silence, in such a way that he gave it +up at once and hurried off to call the pantry-boy to help him collect +the arms. Meantime, the officer walked slowly through all the rooms in +the house, examining them attentively but touching nothing. The peasants +in the hall fell back and took off their caps when he passed through. +He said nothing whatever to them. When he came back to the study all the +arms to be found in the house were lying on the table. There was a pair +of big, flint-lock holster pistols from Napoleonic times, two cavalry +swords, one of the French, the other of the Polish army pattern, with a +fowling-piece or two. + +The officer, opening the window, flung out pistols, swords, and guns, +one after another, and his troopers ran to pick them up. The peasants in +the hall, encouraged by his manner, had stolen after him into the study. +He gave not the slightest sign of being conscious of their existence, +and, his business being apparently concluded, strode out of the house +without a word. Directly he left, the peasants in the study put on their +caps and began to smile at each other. + +The Cossacks rode away, passing through the yards of the home farm +straight into the fields. The priest, still arguing with the peasants, +moved gradually down the drive and his earnest eloquence was drawing the +silent mob after him, away from the house. This justice must be rendered +to the parish priests of the Greek Church that, strangers to the country +as they were (being all drawn from the interior of Russia), the majority +of them used such influence as they had over their flocks in the cause +of peace and humanity. True to the spirit of their calling, they tried +to soothe the passions of the excited peasantry, and opposed rapine and +violence, whenever they could, with all their might. And this conduct +they pursued against the express wishes of the authorities. Later on +some of them were made to suffer for this disobedience by being removed +abruptly to the far north or sent away to Siberian parishes. + +The servant was anxious to get rid of the few peasants who had got into +the house. What sort of conduct was that, he asked them, toward a man +who was only a tenant, had been invariably good and considerate to the +villagers for years, and only the other day had agreed to give up two +meadows for the use of the village herd? He reminded them, too, of Mr. +Nicholas B.'s devotion to the sick in time of cholera. Every word of +this was true, and so far effective that the fellows began to scratch +their heads and look irresolute. The speaker then pointed at the window, +exclaiming: "Look! there's all your crowd going away quietly, and you +silly chaps had better go after them and pray God to forgive you your +evil thoughts." + +This appeal was an unlucky inspiration. + +In crowding clumsily to the window to see whether he was speaking the +truth, the fellows overturned the little writing-table. As it fell over +a chink of loose coin was heard. "There's money in that thing," cried +the blacksmith. In a moment the top of the delicate piece of furniture +was smashed and there lay exposed in a drawer eighty half imperials. +Gold coin was a rare sight in Russia even at that time; it put the +peasants beside themselves. "There must be more of that in the house, +and we shall have it," yelled the ex-soldier blacksmith. "This is +war-time." The others were already shouting out of the window, urging +the crowd to come back and help. The priest, abandoned suddenly at the +gate, flung his arms up and hurried away so as not to see what was going +to happen. + +In their search for money that bucolic mob smashed everything in the +house, ripping with knives, splitting with hatchets, so that, as the +servant said, there were no two pieces of wood holding together left in +the whole house. They broke some very fine mirrors, all the windows, and +every piece of glass and china. They threw the books and papers out +on the lawn and set fire to the heap for the mere fun of the thing, +apparently. Absolutely the only one solitary thing which they left whole +was a small ivory crucifix, which remained hanging on the wall in +the wrecked bedroom above a wild heap of rags, broken mahogany, and +splintered boards which had been Mr. Nicholas B.'s bedstead. Detecting +the servant in the act of stealing away with a japanned tin box, they +tore it from him, and because he resisted they threw him out of the +dining-room window. The house was on one floor, but raised well above +the ground, and the fall was so serious that the man remained lying +stunned till the cook and a stable-boy ventured forth at dusk from their +hiding-places and picked him up. But by that time the mob had departed, +carrying off the tin box, which they supposed to be full of paper money. +Some distance from the house, in the middle of a field, they broke it +open. They found in side documents engrossed on parchment and the two +crosses of the Legion of Honour and For Valour. At the sight of these +objects, which, the blacksmith explained, were marks of honour given +only by the Tsar, they became extremely frightened at what they had +done. They threw the whole lot away into a ditch and dispersed hastily. + +On learning of this particular loss Mr. Nicholas B. broke down +completely. The mere sacking of his house did not seem to affect him +much. While he was still in bed from the shock, the two crosses were +found and returned to him. It helped somewhat his slow convalescence, +but the tin box and the parchments, though searched for in all the +ditches around, never turned up again. He could not get over the loss of +his Legion of Honour Patent, whose preamble, setting forth his services, +he knew by heart to the very letter, and after this blow volunteered +sometimes to recite, tears standing in his eyes the while. Its terms +haunted him apparently during the last two years of his life to such an +extent that he used to repeat them to himself. This is confirmed by +the remark made more than once by his old servant to the more intimate +friends. "What makes my heart heavy is to hear our master in his room at +night walking up and down and praying aloud in the French language." + +It must have been somewhat over a year afterward that I saw Mr. Nicholas +B.--or, more correctly, that he saw me--for the last time. It was, as I +have already said, at the time when my mother had a three months' leave +from exile, which she was spending in the house of her brother, and +friends and relations were coming from far and near to do her honour. +It is inconceivable that Mr. Nicholas B. should not have been of the +number. The little child a few months old he had taken up in his arms on +the day of his home-coming, after years of war and exile, was confessing +her faith in national salvation by suffering exile in her turn. I do not +know whether he was present on the very day of our departure. + +I have already admitted that for me he is more especially the man who +in his youth had eaten roast dog in the depths of a gloomy forest of +snow-loaded pines. My memory cannot place him in any remembered scene. +A hooked nose, some sleek white hair, an unrelated evanescent impression +of a meagre, slight, rigid figure militarily buttoned up to the throat, +is all that now exists on earth of Mr. Nicholas B.; only this vague +shadow pursued by the memory of his grandnephew, the last surviving +human being, I suppose, of all those he had seen in the course of his +taciturn life. + +But I remember well the day of our departure back to exile. The +elongated, bizarre, shabby travelling-carriage with four post-horses, +standing before the long front of the house with its eight columns, +four on each side of the broad flight of stairs. On the steps, groups +of servants, a few relations, one or two friends from the nearest +neighbourhood, a perfect silence; on all the faces an air of sober +concentration; my grandmother, all in black, gazing stoically; my uncle +giving his arm to my mother down to the carriage in which I had been +placed already; at the top of the flight my little cousin in a short +skirt of a tartan pattern with a deal of red in it, and like a +small princess attended by the women of her own household; the head +gouvernante, our dear, corpulent Francesca (who had been for thirty +years in the service of the B. family), the former nurse, now outdoor +attendant, a handsome peasant face wearing a compassionate expression, +and the good, ugly Mlle. Durand, the governess, with her black eyebrows +meeting over a short, thick nose, and a complexion like pale-brown +paper. Of all the eyes turned toward the carriage, her good-natured eyes +only were dropping tears, and it was her sobbing voice alone that +broke the silence with an appeal to me: "_N'oublie pas ton francais, mon +cheri_." In three months, simply by playing with us, she had taught me +not only to speak French, but to read it as well. She was indeed an +excellent playmate. In the distance, half-way down to the great gates, a +light, open trap, harnessed with three horses in Russian fashion, stood +drawn up on one side, with the police captain of the district sitting in +it, the vizor of his flat cap with a red band pulled down over his eyes. + +It seems strange that he should have been there to watch our going so +carefully. Without wishing to treat with levity the just timidites of +Imperialists all the world over, I may allow myself the reflection that +a woman, practically condemned by the doctors, and a small boy not quite +six years old, could not be regarded as seriously dangerous, even for +the largest of conceivable empires saddled with the most sacred of +responsibilities. And this good man I believe did not think so, either. + +I learned afterward why he was present on that day. I don't remember any +outward signs; but it seems that, about a month before, my mother became +so unwell that there was a doubt whether she could be made fit to +travel in the time. In this uncertainty the Governor-General in Kiev was +petitioned to grant her a fortnight's extension of stay in her brother's +house. No answer whatever was returned to this prayer, but one day at +dusk the police captain of the district drove up to the house and told +my uncle's valet, who ran out to meet him, that he wanted to speak with +the master in private, at once. Very much impressed (he thought it was +going to be an arrest), the servant, "more dead than alive with fright," +as he related afterward, smuggled him through the big drawing-room, +which was dark (that room was not lighted every evening), on tiptoe, so +as not to attract the attention of the ladies in the house, and led him +by way of the orangery to my uncle's private apartments. + +The policeman, without any preliminaries, thrust a paper into my uncle's +hands. + +"There. Pray read this. I have no business to show this paper to you. It +is wrong of me. But I can't either eat or sleep with such a job hanging +over me." + +That police captain, a native of Great Russia, had been for many years +serving in the district. + +My uncle unfolded and read the document. It was a service order issued +from the Governor-General's secretariat, dealing with the matter of the +petition and directing the police captain to disregard all remonstrances +and explanations in regard to that illness either from medical men or +others, "and if she has not left her brother's house"--it went on to +say--"on the morning of the day specified on her permit, you are +to despatch her at once under escort, direct" (underlined) "to the +prison-hospital in Kiev, where she will be treated as her case demands." + +"For God's sake, Mr. B., see that your sister goes away punctually on +that day. Don't give me this work to do with a woman--and with one of +your family, too. I simply cannot bear to think of it." + +He was absolutely wringing his hands. My uncle looked at him in silence. + +"Thank you for this warning. I assure you that even if she were dying +she would be carried out to the carriage." + +"Yes--indeed--and what difference would it make--travel to Kiev or back +to her husband? For she would have to go--death or no death. And mind, +Mr. B., I will be here on the day, not that I doubt your promise, but +because I must. I have got to. Duty. All the same my trade is not fit +for a dog since some of you Poles will persist in rebelling, and all of +you have got to suffer for it." + +This is the reason why he was there in an open three-horse trap pulled +up between the house and the great gates. I regret not being able to +give up his name to the scorn of all believers in the right of conquest, +as a reprehensibly sensitive guardian of Imperial greatness. On the +other hand, I am in a position to state the name of the Governor-General +who signed the order with the marginal note "to be carried out to the +letter" in his own handwriting. The gentleman's name was Bezak. A high +dignitary, an energetic official, the idol for a time of the Russian +patriotic press. + +Each generation has its memories. + + +IV + +It must not be supposed that, in setting forth the memories of this +half-hour between the moment my uncle left my room till we met again at +dinner, I am losing sight of "Almayer's Folly." Having confessed that my +first novel was begun in idleness--a holiday task--I think I have also +given the impression that it was a much-delayed book. It was never +dismissed from my mind, even when the hope of ever finishing it was very +faint. Many things came in its way: daily duties, new impressions, +old memories. It was not the outcome of a need--the famous need of +self-expression which artists find in their search for motives. +The necessity which impelled me was a hidden, obscure necessity, a +completely masked and unaccountable phenomenon. Or perhaps some idle and +frivolous magician (there must be magicians in London) had cast a spell +over me through his parlour window as I explored the maze of streets +east and west in solitary leisurely walks without chart and compass. +Till I began to write that novel I had written nothing but letters, and +not very many of these. I never made a note of a fact, of an impression, +or of an anecdote in my life. The conception of a planned book was +entirely outside my mental range when I sat down to write; the ambition +of being an author had never turned up among those gracious imaginary +existences one creates fondly for oneself at times in the stillness and +immobility of a day-dream: yet it stands clear as the sun at noonday +that from the moment I had done blackening over the first manuscript +page of "Almayer's Folly" (it contained about two hundred words and this +proportion of words to a page has remained with me through the fifteen +years of my writing life), from the moment I had, in the simplicity of +my heart and the amazing ignorance of my mind, written that page the die +was cast. Never had Rubicon been more blindly forded without invocation +to the gods, without fear of men. + +That morning I got up from my breakfast, pushing the chair back, and +rang the bell violently, or perhaps I should say resolutely, or perhaps +I should say eagerly--I do not know. But manifestly it must have been +a special ring of the bell, a common sound made impressive, like the +ringing of a bell for the raising of the curtain upon a new scene. +It was an unusual thing for me to do. Generally, I dawdled over my +breakfast and I seldom took the trouble to ring the bell for the table +to be cleared away; but on that morning, for some reason hidden in the +general mysteriousness of the event, I did not dawdle. And yet I was +not in a hurry. I pulled the cord casually, and while the faint tinkling +somewhere down in the basement went on, I charged my pipe in the usual +way and I looked for the match-box with glances distraught indeed, +but exhibiting, I am ready to swear, no signs of a fine frenzy. I was +composed enough to perceive after some considerable time the match-box +lying there on the mantelpiece right under my nose. And all this was +beautifully and safely usual. Before I had thrown down the match my +landlady's daughter appeared with her calm, pale face and an inquisitive +look, in the doorway. Of late it was the landlady's daughter who +answered my bell. I mention this little fact with pride, because it +proves that during the thirty or forty days of my tenancy I had produced +a favourable impression. For a fortnight past I had been spared the +unattractive sight of the domestic slave. The girls in that Bessborough +Gardens house were often changed, but whether short or long, fair or +dark, they were always untidy and particularly bedraggled, as if in a +sordid version of the fairy tale the ash-bin cat had been changed into +a maid. I was infinitely sensible of the privilege of being waited on by +my landlady's daughter. She was neat if anemic. + +"Will you please clear away all this at once?" I addressed her in +convulsive accents, being at the same time engaged in getting my pipe +to draw. This, I admit, was an unusual request. Generally, on getting up +from breakfast I would sit down in the window with a book and let them +clear the table when they liked; but if you think that on that morning +I was in the least impatient, you are mistaken. I remember that I was +perfectly calm. As a matter of fact I was not at all certain that I +wanted to write, or that I meant to write, or that I had anything to +write about. No, I was not impatient. I lounged between the mantelpiece +and the window, not even consciously waiting for the table to be +cleared. It was ten to one that before my landlady's daughter was done I +would pick up a book and sit down with it all the morning in a spirit of +enjoyable indolence. I affirm it with assurance, and I don't even know +now what were the books then lying about the room. What ever they were, +they were not the works of great masters, where the secret of clear +thought and exact expression can be found. Since the age of five I have +been a great reader, as is not perhaps wonderful in a child who was +never aware of learning to read. At ten years of age I had read much +of Victor Hugo and other romantics. I had read in Polish and in French, +history, voyages, novels; I knew "Gil Blas" and "Don Quixote" in +abridged editions; I had read in early boyhood Polish poets and some +French poets, but I cannot say what I read on the evening before I began +to write myself. I believe it was a novel, and it is quite possible +that it was one of Anthony Trollope's novels. It is very likely. My +acquaintance with him was then very recent. He is one of the English +novelists whose works I read for the first time in English. With men of +European reputation, with Dickens and Walter Scott and Thackeray, it was +otherwise. My first introduction to English imaginative literature was +"Nicholas Nickleby." It is extraordinary how well Mrs. Nickleby could +chatter disconnectedly in Polish and the sinister Ralph rage in that +language. As to the Crummles family and the family of the learned +Squeers it seemed as natural to them as their native speech. It was, I +have no doubt, an excellent translation. This must have been in the year +'70. But I really believe that I am wrong. That book was not my first +introduction to English literature. My first acquaintance was (or were) +the "Two Gentlemen of Verona," and that in the very MS. of my father's +translation. It was during our exile in Russia, and it must have been +less than a year after my mother's death, because I remember myself +in the black blouse with a white border of my heavy mourning. We were +living together, quite alone, in a small house on the outskirts of the +town of T----. That afternoon, instead of going out to play in the large +yard which we shared with our landlord, I had lingered in the room in +which my father generally wrote. What emboldened me to clamber into +his chair I am sure I don't know, but a couple of hours afterward he +discovered me kneeling in it with my elbows on the table and my head +held in both hands over the MS. of loose pages. I was greatly confused, +expecting to get into trouble. He stood in the doorway looking at me +with some surprise, but the only thing he said after a moment of silence +was: + +"Read the page aloud." + +Luckily the page lying before me was not overblotted with erasures +and corrections, and my father's handwriting was otherwise extremely +legible. When I got to the end he nodded, and I flew out-of-doors, +thinking myself lucky to have escaped reproof for that piece of +impulsive audacity. I have tried to discover since the reason for this +mildness, and I imagine that all unknown to myself I had earned, in +my father's mind, the right to some latitude in my relations with his +writing-table. It was only a month before--or perhaps it was only a week +before--that I had read to him aloud from beginning to end, and to his +perfect satisfaction, as he lay on his bed, not being very well at the +time, the proofs of his translation of Victor Hugo's "Toilers of the +Sea." Such was my title to consideration, I believe, and also my first +introduction to the sea in literature. + +If I do not remember where, how, and when I learned to read, I am not +likely to forget the process of being trained in the art of reading +aloud. My poor father, an admirable reader himself, was the most +exacting of masters. I reflect proudly that I must have read that page +of "Two Gentlemen of Verona" tolerably well at the age of eight. The +next time I met them was in a 5s. one-volume edition of the dramatic +works of William Shakespeare, read in Falmouth, at odd moments of the +day, to the noisy accompaniment of calkers' mallets driving oakum +into the deck-seams of a ship in dry-dock. We had run in, in a sinking +condition and with the crew refusing duty after a month of weary +battling with the gales of the North Atlantic. Books are an integral +part of one's life, and my Shakespearian associations are with that +first year of our bereavement, the last I spent with my father in exile +(he sent me away to Poland to my mother's brother directly he could +brace himself up for the separation), and with the year of hard gales, +the year in which I came nearest to death at sea, first by water and +then by fire. + +Those things I remember, but what I was reading the day before my +writing life began I have forgotten. I have only a vague notion that it +might have been one of Trollope's political novels. And I remember, +too, the character of the day. It was an autumn day with an opaline +atmosphere, a veiled, semi-opaque, lustrous day, with fiery points and +flashes of red sunlight on the roofs and windows opposite, while the +trees of the square, with all their leaves gone, were like the tracings +of India ink on a sheet of tissue-paper. It was one of those London days +that have the charm of mysterious amenity, of fascinating softness. +The effect of opaline mist was often repeated at Bessborough Gardens on +account of the nearness to the river. + +There is no reason why I should remember that effect more on that day +than on any other day, except that I stood for a long time looking out +of the window after the landlady's daughter was gone with her spoil +of cups and saucers. I heard her put the tray down in the passage and +finally shut the door; and still I remained smoking, with my back to the +room. It is very clear that I was in no haste to take the plunge into my +writing life, if as plunge this first attempt may be described. My whole +being was steeped deep in the indolence of a sailor away from the +sea, the scene of never-ending labour and of unceasing duty. For utter +surrender to indolence you cannot beat a sailor ashore when that mood +is on him--the mood of absolute irresponsibility tasted to the full. +It seems to me that I thought of nothing whatever, but this is an +impression which is hardly to be believed at this distance of years. +What I am certain of is that I was very far from thinking of writing a +story, though it is possible and even likely that I was thinking of the +man Almayer. + +I had seen him for the first time, some four years before, from the +bridge of a steamer moored to a rickety little wharf forty miles up, +more or less, a Bornean river. It was very early morning, and a slight +mist--an opaline mist as in Bessborough Gardens, only without the +fiery flicks on roof and chimney-pot from the rays of the red London +sun--promised to turn presently into a woolly fog. Barring a small +dug-out canoe on the river there was nothing moving within sight. I had +just come up yawning from my cabin. The serang and the Malay crew +were overhauling the cargo chains and trying the winches; their voices +sounded subdued on the deck below, and their movements were languid. +That tropical daybreak was chilly. The Malay quartermaster, coming up +to get something from the lockers on the bridge, shivered visibly. The +forests above and below and on the opposite bank looked black and dank; +wet dripped from the rigging upon the tightly stretched deck awnings, +and it was in the middle of a shuddering yawn that I caught sight +of Almayer. He was moving across a patch of burned grass, a blurred, +shadowy shape with the blurred bulk of a house behind him, a low house +of mats, bamboos, and palm leaves, with a high-pitched roof of grass. + +He stepped upon the jetty. He was clad simply in flapping pajamas of +cretonne pattern (enormous flowers with yellow petals on a disagreeable +blue ground) and a thin cotton singlet with short sleeves. His arms, +bare to the elbow, were crossed on his chest. His black hair looked +as if it had not been cut for a very long time, and a curly wisp of +it strayed across his forehead. I had heard of him at Singapore; I had +heard of him on board; I had heard of him early in the morning and late +at night; I had heard of him at tiffin and at dinner; I had heard of +him in a place called Pulo Laut from a half-caste gentleman there, who +described himself as the manager of a coal-mine; which sounded civilized +and progressive till you heard that the mine could not be worked at +present because it was haunted by some particularly atrocious ghosts. +I had heard of him in a place called Dongola, in the Island of Celebes, +when the Rajah of that little-known seaport (you can get no anchorage +there in less than fifteen fathom, which is extremely inconvenient) came +on board in a friendly way, with only two attendants, and drank bottle +after bottle of soda-water on the after-sky light with my good friend +and commander, Captain C----. At least I heard his name distinctly +pronounced several times in a lot of talk in Malay language. Oh, yes, +I heard it quite distinctly--Almayer, Almayer--and saw Captain C---- +smile, while the fat, dingy Rajah laughed audibly. To hear a Malay Rajah +laugh outright is a rare experience, I can assure you. And I overheard +more of Almayer's name among our deck passengers (mostly wandering +traders of good repute) as they sat all over the ship--each man fenced +round with bundles and boxes--on mats, on pillows, on quilts, on billets +of wood, conversing of Island affairs. Upon my word, I heard the mutter +of Almayer's name faintly at midnight, while making my way aft from the +bridge to look at the patent taffrail-log tinkling its quarter miles in +the great silence of the sea. I don't mean to say that our passengers +dreamed aloud of Almayer, but it is indubitable that two of them at +least, who could not sleep, apparently, and were trying to charm away +the trouble of insomnia by a little whispered talk at that ghostly hour, +were referring in some way or other to Almayer. It was really impossible +on board that ship to get away definitely from Almayer; and a very small +pony tied up forward and whisking its tail inside the galley, to the +great embarrassment of our Chinaman cook, was destined for Almayer. What +he wanted with a pony goodness only knows, since I am perfectly certain +he could not ride it; but here you have the man, ambitious, aiming at +the grandiose, importing a pony, whereas in the whole settlement at +which he used to shake daily his impotent fist there was only one path +that was practicable for a pony: a quarter of a mile at most, hedged +in by hundreds of square leagues of virgin forest. But who knows? The +importation of that Bali pony might have been part of some deep scheme, +of some diplomatic plan, of some hopeful intrigue. With Almayer one +could never tell. He governed his conduct by considerations removed +from the obvious, by incredible assumptions, which rendered his logic +impenetrable to any reasonable person. I learned all this later. That +morning, seeing the figure in pajamas moving in the mist, I said to +myself, "That's the man." + +He came quite close to the ship's side and raised a harassed +countenance, round and flat, with that curl of black hair over the +forehead and a heavy, pained glance. + +"Good morning." + +"Good morning." + +He looked hard at me: I was a new face, having just replaced the chief +mate he was accustomed to see; and I think that this novelty inspired +him, as things generally did, with deep-seated mistrust. + +"Didn't expect you till this evening," he remarked, suspiciously. + +I didn't know why he should have been aggrieved, but he seemed to be. +I took pains to explain to him that, having picked up the beacon at the +mouth of the river just before dark and the tide serving, Captain C---- +was enabled to cross the bar and there was nothing to prevent him going +up the river at night. + +"Captain C---- knows this river like his own pocket," I concluded, +discursively, trying to get on terms. + +"Better," said Almayer. + +Leaning over the rail of the bridge, I looked at Almayer, who looked +down at the wharf in aggrieved thought. He shuffled his feet a little; +he wore straw slippers with thick soles. The morning fog had thickened +considerably. Everything round us dripped--the derricks, the rails, +every single rope in the ship--as if a fit of crying had come upon the +universe. + +Almayer again raised his head and, in the accents of a man accustomed to +the buffets of evil fortune, asked, hardly audibly: + +"I suppose you haven't got such a thing as a pony on board?" + +I told him, almost in a whisper, for he attuned my communications to his +minor key, that we had such a thing as a pony, and I hinted, as gently +as I could, that he was confoundedly in the way, too. I was very anxious +to have him landed before I began to handle the cargo. Almayer remained +looking up at me for a long while, with incredulous and melancholy eyes, +as though it were not a safe thing to believe in my statement. This +pathetic mistrust in the favourable issue of any sort of affair touched +me deeply, and I added: + +"He doesn't seem a bit the worse for the passage. He's a nice pony, +too." + +Almayer was not to be cheered up; for all answer he cleared his throat +and looked down again at his feet. I tried to close with him on another +tack. + +"By Jove!" I said. "Aren't you afraid of catching pneumonia or +bronchitis or some thing, walking about in a singlet in such a wet fog?" + +He was not to be propitiated by a show of interest in his health. + +His answer was a sinister "No fear," as much as to say that even that +way of escape from inclement fortune was closed to him. + +"I just came down . . ." he mumbled after a while. + +"Well, then, now you're here I will land that pony for you at once, +and you can lead him home. I really don't want him on deck. He's in the +way." + +Almayer seemed doubtful. I insisted: + +"Why, I will just swing him out and land him on the wharf right in front +of you. I'd much rather do it before the hatches are off. The little +devil may jump down the hold or do some other deadly thing." + +"There's a halter?" postulated Almayer. + +"Yes, of course there's a halter." And without waiting any more I leaned +over the bridge rail. + +"Serang, land Tuan Almayer's pony." + +The cook hastened to shut the door of the galley, and a moment later a +great scuffle began on deck. The pony kicked with extreme energy, the +kalashes skipped out of the way, the serang issued many orders in a +cracked voice. Suddenly the pony leaped upon the fore-hatch. His little +hoofs thundered tremendously; he plunged and reared. He had tossed his +mane and his forelock into a state of amazing wildness, he dilated his +nostrils, bits of foam flecked his broad little chest, his eyes blazed. +He was something under eleven hands; he was fierce, terrible, angry, +warlike; he said ha! ha! distinctly; he raged and thumped--and sixteen +able-bodied kalashes stood round him like disconcerted nurses round a +spoiled and passionate child. He whisked his tail incessantly; he arched +his pretty neck; he was perfectly delightful; he was charmingly naughty. +There was not an atom of vice in that performance; no savage baring of +teeth and laying back of ears. On the contrary, he pricked them forward +in a comically aggressive manner. He was totally unmoral and lovable; I +would have liked to give him bread, sugar, carrots. But life is a stern +thing and the sense of duty the only safe guide. So I steeled my heart, +and from my elevated position on the bridge I ordered the men to fling +themselves upon him in a body. + +The elderly serang, emitting a strange, inarticulate cry, gave the +example. He was an excellent petty officer--very competent, indeed, and +a moderate opium-smoker. The rest of them in one great rush smothered +that pony. They hung on to his ears, to his mane, to his tail; they lay +in piles across his back, seventeen in all. The carpenter, seizing +the hook of the cargo-chain, flung himself on the top of them. A very +satisfactory petty officer, too, but he stuttered. Have you ever heard +a light-yellow, lean, sad, earnest Chinaman stutter in Pidgin-English? +It's very weird, indeed. He made the eighteenth. I could not see the +pony at all; but from the swaying and heaving of that heap of men I knew +that there was something alive inside. + +From the wharf Almayer hailed, in quavering tones: + +"Oh, I say!" + +Where he stood he could not see what was going on on deck, unless, +perhaps, the tops of the men's heads; he could only hear the scuffle, +the mighty thuds, as if the ship were being knocked to pieces. I looked +over: "What is it?" + +"Don't let them break his legs," he entreated me, plaintively. + +"Oh, nonsense! He's all right now. He can't move." + +By that time the cargo-chain had been hooked to the broad canvas belt +round the pony's body; the kalashes sprang off simultaneously in all +directions, rolling over each other; and the worthy serang, making a +dash behind the winch, turned the steam on. + +"Steady!" I yelled, in great apprehension of seeing the animal snatched +up to the very head of the derrick. + +On the wharf Almayer shuffled his straw slippers uneasily. The rattle of +the winch stopped, and in a tense, impressive silence that pony began to +swing across the deck. + +How limp he was! Directly he felt himself in the air he relaxed every +muscle in a most wonderful manner. His four hoofs knocked together in a +bunch, his head hung down, and his tail remained pendent in a nerveless +and absolute immobility. He reminded me vividly of the pathetic little +sheep which hangs on the collar of the Order of the Golden Fleece. I had +no idea that anything in the shape of a horse could be so limp as that, +either living or dead. His wild mane hung down lumpily, a mere mass of +inanimate horsehair; his aggressive ears had collapsed, but as he went +swaying slowly across the front of the bridge I noticed an astute gleam +in his dreamy, half-closed eye. A trustworthy quartermaster, his glance +anxious and his mouth on the broad grin, was easing over the derrick +watchfully. I superintended, greatly interested. + +"So! That will do." + +The derrick-head stopped. The kalashes lined the rail. The rope of the +halter hung perpendicular and motionless like a bell-pull in front of +Almayer. Everything was very still. I suggested amicably that he +should catch hold of the rope and mind what he was about. He extended a +provokingly casual and superior hand. + +"Look out, then! Lower away!" + +Almayer gathered in the rope intelligently enough, but when the pony's +hoofs touched the wharf he gave way all at once to a most foolish +optimism. Without pausing, without thinking, almost without looking, he +disengaged the hook suddenly from the sling, and the cargo-chain, after +hitting the pony's quarters, swung back against the ship's side with +a noisy, rattling slap. I suppose I must have blinked. I know I missed +something, because the next thing I saw was Almayer lying flat on his +back on the jetty. He was alone. + +Astonishment deprived me of speech long enough to give Almayer time to +pick himself up in a leisurely and painful manner. The kalashes lining +the rail all had their mouths open. The mist flew in the light breeze, +and it had come over quite thick enough to hide the shore completely. + +"How on earth did you manage to let him get away?" I asked, scandalized. + +Almayer looked into the smarting palm of his right hand, but did not +answer my inquiry. + +"Where do you think he will get to?" I cried. "Are there any fences +anywhere in this fog? Can he bolt into the forest? What's to be done +now?" + +Almayer shrugged his shoulders. + +"Some of my men are sure to be about. They will get hold of him sooner +or later." + +"Sooner or later! That's all very fine, but what about my canvas +sling?--he's carried it off. I want it now, at once, to land two Celebes +cows." + +Since Dongola we had on board a pair of the pretty little island cattle +in addition to the pony. Tied up on the other side of the fore-deck they +had been whisking their tails into the other door of the galley. These +cows were not for Almayer, however; they were invoiced to Abdullah bin +Selim, his enemy. Almayer's disregard of my requirements was complete. + +"If I were you I would try to find out where he's gone," I insisted. +"Hadn't you better call your men together or something? He will throw +himself down and cut his knees. He may even break a leg, you know." + +But Almayer, plunged in abstracted thought, did not seem to want that +pony any more. Amazed at this sudden indifference, I turned all hands +out on shore to hunt for him on my own account, or, at any rate, to hunt +for the canvas sling which he had round his body. The whole crew of +the steamer, with the exception of firemen and engineers, rushed up +the jetty, past the thoughtful Almayer, and vanished from my sight. The +white fog swallowed them up; and again there was a deep silence that +seemed to extend for miles up and down the stream. Still taciturn, +Almayer started to climb on board, and I went down from the bridge to +meet him on the after-deck. + +"Would you mind telling the captain that I want to see him very +particularly?" he asked me, in a low tone, letting his eyes stray all +over the place. + +"Very well. I will go and see." + +With the door of his cabin wide open, Captain C----, just back from +the bath-room, big and broad-chested, was brushing his thick, damp, +iron-gray hair with two large brushes. + +"Mr. Almayer told me he wanted to see you very particularly, sir." + +Saying these words, I smiled. I don't know why I smiled, except that it +seemed absolutely impossible to mention Almayer's name without a smile +of a sort. It had not to be necessarily a mirthful smile. Turning his +head toward me, Captain C---- smiled, too, rather joylessly. + +"The pony got away from him--eh?" + +"Yes, sir. He did." + +"Where is he?" + +"Goodness only knows." + +"No. I mean Almayer. Let him come along." + +The captain's stateroom opening straight on deck under the bridge, I had +only to beckon from the doorway to Almayer, who had remained aft, with +downcast eyes, on the very spot where I had left him. He strolled up +moodily, shook hands, and at once asked permission to shut the cabin +door. + +"I have a pretty story to tell you," were the last words I heard. + +The bitterness of tone was remarkable. + +I went away from the door, of course. For the moment I had no crew on +board; only the Chinaman carpenter, with a canvas bag hung round his +neck and a hammer in his hand, roamed about the empty decks, +knocking out the wedges of the hatches and dropping them into the bag +conscientiously. Having nothing to do I joined our two engineers at the +door of the engine-room. It was near breakfast-time. + +"He's turned up early, hasn't he?" commented the second engineer, and +smiled indifferently. He was an abstemious man, with a good digestion +and a placid, reasonable view of life even when hungry. + +"Yes," I said. "Shut up with the old man. Some very particular +business." + +"He will spin him a damned endless yarn," observed the chief engineer. + +He smiled rather sourly. He was dyspeptic, and suffered from gnawing +hunger in the morning. The second smiled broadly, a smile that made two +vertical folds on his shaven cheeks. And I smiled, too, but I was not +exactly amused. In that man, whose name apparently could not be uttered +anywhere in the Malay Archipelago without a smile, there was nothing +amusing whatever. That morning he breakfasted with us silently, looking +mostly into his cup. I informed him that my men came upon his pony +capering in the fog on the very brink of the eight-foot-deep well in +which he kept his store of guttah. The cover was off, with no one near +by, and the whole of my crew just missed going heels over head into +that beastly hole. Jurumudi Itam, our best quartermaster, deft at fine +needlework, he who mended the ship's flags and sewed buttons on our +coats, was disabled by a kick on the shoulder. + +Both remorse and gratitude seemed foreign to Almayer's character. + +He mumbled: + +"Do you mean that pirate fellow?" + +"What pirate fellow? The man has been in the ship eleven years," I said, +indignantly. + +"It's his looks," Almayer muttered, for all apology. + +The sun had eaten up the fog. From where we sat under the after-awning +we could see in the distance the pony tied up, in front of Almayer's +house, to a post of the veranda. We were silent for a long time. All at +once Almayer, alluding evidently to the subject of his conversation in +the captain's cabin, exclaimed anxiously across the table: + +"I really don't know what I can do now!" + +Captain C---- only raised his eyebrows at him, and got up from his +chair. We dispersed to our duties, but Almayer, half dressed as he was +in his cretonne pajamas and the thin cotton singlet, remained on board, +lingering near the gangway, as though he could not make up his mind +whether to go home or stay with us for good. + +Our Chinamen boys gave him side glances as they went to and fro; and +Ah Sing, our chief steward, the handsomest and most sympathetic of +Chinamen, catching my eye, nodded knowingly at his burly back. In the +course of the morning I approached him for a moment. + +"Well, Mr. Almayer," I addressed him, easily, "you haven't started on +your letters yet." + +We had brought him his mail, and he had held the bundle in his hand ever +since we got up from breakfast. He glanced at it when I spoke, and for +a moment it looked as if he were on the point of opening his fingers and +letting the whole lot fall overboard. I believe he was tempted to do so. +I shall never forget that man afraid of his letters. + +"Have you been long out from Europe?" he asked me. + +"Not very. Not quite eight months," I told him. "I left a ship in +Samarang with a hurt back, and have been in the hospital in Singapore +some weeks." + +He sighed. + +"Trade is very bad here." + +"Indeed!" + +"Hopeless! . . . See these geese?" + +With the hand holding the letters he pointed out to me what resembled +a patch of snow creeping and swaying across the distant part of his +compound. It disappeared behind some bushes. + +"The only geese on the East Coast," Almayer informed me, in a +perfunctory mutter without a spark of faith, hope, or pride. Thereupon, +with the same absence of any sort of sustaining spirit, he declared his +intention to select a fat bird and send him on board for us not later +than next day. + +I had heard of these largesses before. He conferred a goose as if it +were a sort of court decoration given only to the tried friends of the +house. I had expected more pomp in the ceremony. The gift had surely +its special quality, multiple and rare. From the only flock on the East +Coast! He did not make half enough of it. That man did not understand +his opportunities. However, I thanked him at some length. + +"You see," he interrupted, abruptly, in a very peculiar tone, "the worst +of this country is that one is not able to realize . . . it's impossible +to realize. . . ." His voice sank into a languid mutter. "And when +one has very large interests . . . very important interests . . ." he +finished, faintly . . . "up the river." + +We looked at each other. He astonished me by giving a start and making a +very queer grimace. + +"Well, I must be off," he burst out, hurriedly. "So long!" + +At the moment of stepping over the gangway he checked himself, though, +to give me a mumbled invitation to dine at his house that evening with +my captain, an invitation which I accepted. I don't think it could have +been possible for me to refuse. + +I like the worthy folk who will talk to you of the exercise of +free-will, "at any rate for practical purposes." Free, is it? For +practical purposes! Bosh! How could I have refused to dine with that +man? I did not refuse, simply because I could not refuse. Curiosity, a +healthy desire for a change of cooking, common civility, the talk and +the smiles of the previous twenty days, every condition of my existence +at that moment and place made irresistibly for acceptance; and, crowning +all that, there was the ignorance--the ignorance, I say--the fatal want +of fore knowledge to counterbalance these imperative conditions of the +problem. A refusal would have appeared perverse and insane. Nobody, +unless a surly lunatic, would have refused. But if I had not got to know +Almayer pretty well it is almost certain there would never have been a +line of mine in print. + +I accepted then--and I am paying yet the price of my sanity. The +possessor of the only flock of geese on the East Coast is responsible +for the existence of some fourteen volumes, so far. The number of +geese he had called into being under adverse climatic conditions was +considerably more than fourteen. The tale of volumes will never overtake +the counting of heads, I am safe to say; but my ambitions point not +exactly that way, and whatever the pangs the toil of writing has cost me +I have always thought kindly of Almayer. + +I wonder, had he known anything of it, what his attitude would have +been? This is something not to be discovered in this world. + +But if we ever meet in the Elysian Fields--where I cannot depict him +to myself otherwise than attended in the distance by his flock of geese +(birds sacred to Jupiter)--and he addresses me in the stillness of +that passionless region, neither light nor darkness, neither sound nor +silence, and heaving endlessly with billowy mists from the impalpable +multitudes of the swarming dead, I think I know what answer to make. + +I would say, after listening courteously to the unvibrating tone of his +measured remonstrances, which should not disturb, of course, the solemn +eternity of stillness in the least--I would say something like this: + +"It is true, Almayer, that in the world below I have converted your name +to my own uses. But that is a very small larceny. What's in a name, O +Shade? If so much of your old mortal weakness clings to you yet as +to make you feel aggrieved (it was the note of your earthly voice, +Almayer), then, I entreat you, seek speech without delay with our +sublime fellow-Shade--with him who, in his transient existence as a +poet, commented upon the smell of the rose. He will comfort you. You +came to me stripped of all prestige by men's queer smiles and the +disrespectful chatter of every vagrant trader in the Islands. Your name +was the common property of the winds; it, as it were, floated naked over +the waters about the equator. I wrapped round its unhonoured form the +royal mantle of the tropics, and have essayed to put into the hollow +sound the very anguish of paternity--feats which you did not demand from +me--but remember that all the toil and all the pain were mine. In your +earthly life you haunted me, Almayer. Consider that this was taking a +great liberty. Since you were always complaining of being lost to the +world, you should remember that if I had not believed enough in your +existence to let you haunt my rooms in Bessborough Gardens, you would +have been much more lost. You affirm that had I been capable of looking +at you with a more perfect detachment and a greater simplicity, I might +have perceived better the inward marvellousness which, you insist, +attended your career upon that tiny pin-point of light, hardly visible +far, far below us, where both our graves lie. No doubt! But reflect, O +complaining Shade! that this was not so much my fault as your crowning +misfortune. I believed in you in the only way it was possible for me to +believe. It was not worthy of your merits? So be it. But you were always +an unlucky man, Almayer. Nothing was ever quite worthy of you. What made +you so real to me was that you held this lofty theory with some force of +conviction and with an admirable consistency." + +It is with some such words translated into the proper shadowy +expressions that I am prepared to placate Almayer in the Elysian Abode +of Shades, since it has come to pass that, having parted many years ago, +we are never to meet again in this world. + + +V + +In the career of the most unliterary of writers, in the sense that +literary ambition had never entered the world of his imagination, the +coming into existence of the first book is quite an inexplicable event. +In my own case I cannot trace it back to any mental or psychological +cause which one could point out and hold to. The greatest of my gifts +being a consummate capacity for doing nothing, I cannot even point to +boredom as a rational stimulus for taking up a pen. The pen, at any +rate, was there, and there is nothing wonderful in that. Everybody keeps +a pen (the cold steel of our days) in his rooms, in this enlightened age +of penny stamps and halfpenny post-cards. In fact, this was the epoch +when by means of postcard and pen Mr. Gladstone had made the reputation +of a novel or two. And I, too, had a pen rolling about somewhere--the +seldom-used, the reluctantly taken-up pen of a sailor ashore, the pen +rugged with the dried ink of abandoned attempts, of answers delayed +longer than decency permitted, of letters begun with infinite +reluctance, and put off suddenly till next day--till next week, as like +as not! The neglected, uncared-for pen, flung away at the slightest +provocation, and under the stress of dire necessity hunted for without +enthusiasm, in a perfunctory, grumpy worry, in the "Where the devil _is_ +the beastly thing gone to?" ungracious spirit. Where, indeed! It might +have been reposing behind the sofa for a day or so. My landlady's anemic +daughter (as Ollendorff would have expressed it), though commendably +neat, had a lordly, careless manner of approaching her domestic duties. +Or it might even be resting delicately poised on its point by the side +of the table-leg, and when picked up show a gaping, inefficient beak +which would have discouraged any man of literary instincts. But not me! +"Never mind. This will do." + +O days without guile! If anybody had told me then that a devoted +household, having a generally exaggerated idea of my talents and +importance, would be put into a state of tremor and flurry by the fuss +I would make because of a suspicion that somebody had touched my +sacrosanct pen of authorship, I would have never deigned as much as the +contemptuous smile of unbelief. There are imaginings too unlikely for +any kind of notice, too wild for indulgence itself, too absurd for a +smile. Perhaps, had that seer of the future been a friend, I should have +been secretly saddened. "Alas!" I would have thought, looking at him +with an unmoved face, "the poor fellow is going mad." + +I would have been, without doubt, saddened; for in this world where the +journalists read the signs of the sky, and the wind of heaven itself, +blowing where it listeth, does so under the prophetical management of +the meteorological office, but where the secret of human hearts cannot +be captured by prying or praying, it was infinitely more likely that +the sanest of my friends should nurse the germ of incipient madness than +that I should turn into a writer of tales. + +To survey with wonder the changes of one's own self is a fascinating +pursuit for idle hours. The field is so wide, the surprises so varied, +the subject so full of unprofitable but curious hints as to the work of +unseen forces, that one does not weary easily of it. I am not speaking +here of megalomaniacs who rest uneasy under the crown of their unbounded +conceit--who really never rest in this world, and when out of it go +on fretting and fuming on the straitened circumstances of their last +habitation, where all men must lie in obscure equality. Neither am I +thinking of those ambitious minds who, always looking forward to some +aim of aggrandizement, can spare no time for a detached, impersonal +glance upon themselves. + +And that's a pity. They are unlucky. These two kinds, together with +the much larger band of the totally unimaginative, of those unfortunate +beings in whose empty and unseeing gaze (as a great French writer has +put it) "the whole universe vanishes into blank nothingness," miss, +perhaps, the true task of us men whose day is short on this earth, the +abode of conflicting opinions. The ethical view of the universe involves +us at last in so many cruel and absurd contradictions, where the last +vestiges of faith, hope, charity, and even of reason itself, seem ready +to perish, that I have come to suspect that the aim of creation cannot +be ethical at all. I would fondly believe that its object is purely +spectacular: a spectacle for awe, love, adoration, or hate, if you +like, but in this view--and in this view alone--never for despair! Those +visions, delicious or poignant, are a moral end in themselves. The rest +is our affair--the laughter, the tears, the tenderness, the indignation, +the high tranquillity of a steeled heart, the detached curiosity of +a subtle mind--that's our affair! And the unwearied self-forgetful +attention to every phase of the living universe reflected in our +consciousness may be our appointed task on this earth--a task in which +fate has perhaps engaged nothing of us except our conscience, gifted +with a voice in order to bear true testimony to the visible wonder, the +haunting terror, the infinite passion, and the illimitable serenity; to +the supreme law and the abiding mystery of the sublime spectacle. + +Chi lo sa? It may be true. In this view there is room for every religion +except for the inverted creed of impiety, the mask and cloak of arid +despair; for every joy and every sorrow, for every fair dream, for every +charitable hope. The great aim is to remain true to the emotions called +out of the deep encircled by the firmament of stars, whose infinite +numbers and awful distances may move us to laughter or tears (was it the +Walrus or the Carpenter, in the poem, who "wept to see such quantities +of sand"?), or, again, to a properly steeled heart, may matter nothing +at all. + +The casual quotation, which had suggested itself out of a poem full of +merit, leads me to remark that in the conception of a purely spectacular +universe, where inspiration of every sort has a rational existence, the +artist of every kind finds a natural place; and among them the poet as +the seer par excellence. Even the writer of prose, who in his less noble +and more toilsome task should be a man with the steeled heart, is worthy +of a place, providing he looks on with undimmed eyes and keeps laughter +out of his voice, let who will laugh or cry. Yes! Even he, the prose +artist of fiction, which after all is but truth often dragged out of a +well and clothed in the painted robe of imagined phrases--even he has +his place among kings, demagogues, priests, charlatans, dukes, giraffes, +cabinet ministers, Fabians, bricklayers, apostles, ants, scientists, +Kafirs, soldiers, sailors, elephants, lawyers, dandies, microbes, and +constellations of a universe whose amazing spectacle is a moral end in +itself. + +Here I perceive (without speaking offense) the reader assuming a subtle +expression, as if the cat were out of the bag. I take the novelist's +freedom to observe the reader's mind formulating the exclamation: +"That's it! The fellow talks pro domo." + +Indeed it was not the intention! When I shouldered the bag I was not +aware of the cat inside. But, after all, why not? The fair courtyards of +the House of Art are thronged by many humble retainers. And there is +no retainer so devoted as he who is allowed to sit on the doorstep. The +fellows who have got inside are apt to think too much of themselves. +This last remark, I beg to state, is not malicious within the definition +of the law of libel. It's fair comment on a matter of public interest. +But never mind. _Pro domo_. So be it. For his house _tant que vous +voudrez_. And yet in truth I was by no means anxious to justify my +existence. The attempt would have been not only needless and absurd, but +almost inconceivable, in a purely spectacular universe, where no such +disagreeable necessity can possibly arise. It is sufficient for me to +say (and I am saying it at some length in these pages): _J'ai vecu_. I +have existed, obscure among the wonders and terrors of my time, as the +Abbe Sieyes, the original utterer of the quoted words, had managed to +exist through the violences, the crimes, and the enthusiasms of the +French Revolution. _J'ai vecu_, as I apprehend most of us manage to +exist, missing all along the varied forms of destruction by a +hair's-breadth, saving my body, that's clear, and perhaps my soul also, +but not without some damage here and there to the fine edge of my +conscience, that heirloom of the ages, of the race, of the group, of the +family, colourable and plastic, fashioned by the words, the looks, the +acts, and even by the silences and abstentions surrounding one's +childhood; tinged in a complete scheme of delicate shades +and crude colours by the inherited traditions, beliefs, or +prejudices--unaccountable, despotic, persuasive, and often, +in its texture, romantic. + +And often romantic! . . . The matter in hand, however, is to keep these +reminiscences from turning into confessions, a form of literary +activity discredited by Jean Jacques Rousseau on account of the extreme +thoroughness he brought to the work of justifying his own existence; +for that such was his purpose is palpably, even grossly, visible to +an unprejudiced eye. But then, you see, the man was not a writer of +fiction. He was an artless moralist, as is clearly demonstrated by his +anniversaries being celebrated with marked emphasis by the heirs of +the French Revolution, which was not a political movement at all, but +a great outburst of morality. He had no imagination, as the most casual +perusal of "Emile" will prove. He was no novelist, whose first virtue is +the exact understanding of the limits traced by the reality of his time +to the play of his invention. Inspiration comes from the earth, which +has a past, a history, a future, not from the cold and immutable heaven. +A writer of imaginative prose (even more than any other sort of artist) +stands confessed in his works. His conscience, his deeper sense of +things, lawful and unlawful, gives him his attitude before the world. +Indeed, everyone who puts pen to paper for the reading of strangers +(unless a moralist, who, generally speaking, has no conscience except +the one he is at pains to produce for the use of others) can speak of +nothing else. It is M. Anatole France, the most eloquent and just of +French prose-writers, who says that we must recognize at last that, +"failing the resolution to hold our peace, we can only talk of +ourselves." + +This remark, if I remember rightly, was made in the course of a sparring +match with the late Ferdinand Brunetiere over the principles and rules +of literary criticism. As was fitting for a man to whom we owe the +memorable saying, "The good critic is he who relates the adventures of +his soul among masterpieces," M. Anatole France maintained that there +were no rules and no principles. And that may be very true. Rules, +principles, and standards die and vanish every day. Perhaps they are all +dead and vanished by this time. These, if ever, are the brave, free days +of destroyed landmarks, while the ingenious minds are busy inventing the +forms of the new beacons which, it is consoling to think, will be set up +presently in the old places. But what is interesting to a writer is the +possession of an inward certitude that literary criticism will never +die, for man (so variously defined) is, before everything else, a +critical animal. And as long as distinguished minds are ready to treat +it in the spirit of high adventure literary criticism shall appeal to +us with all the charm and wisdom of a well-told tale of personal +experience. + +For Englishmen especially, of all the races of the earth, a task, any +task, undertaken in an adventurous spirit acquires the merit of romance. +But the critics as a rule exhibit but little of an adventurous spirit. +They take risks, of course--one can hardly live without that. The daily +bread is served out to us (however sparingly) with a pinch of salt. +Otherwise one would get sick of the diet one prays for, and that would +be not only improper, but impious. From impiety of that or any other +kind--save us! An ideal of reserved manner, adhered to from a sense +of proprieties, from shyness, perhaps, or caution, or simply from +weariness, induces, I suspect, some writers of criticism to conceal the +adventurous side of their calling, and then the criticism becomes a mere +"notice," as it were, the relation of a journey where nothing but the +distances and the geology of a new country should be set down; the +glimpses of strange beasts, the dangers of flood and field, the +hairbreadth escapes, and the sufferings (oh, the sufferings, too! I have +no doubt of the sufferings) of the traveller being carefully kept out; +no shady spot, no fruitful plant being ever mentioned either; so that +the whole performance looks like a mere feat of agility on the part of +a trained pen running in a desert. A cruel spectacle--a most deplorable +adventure! "Life," in the words of an immortal thinker of, I should +say, bucolic origin, but whose perishable name is lost to the worship of +posterity--"life is not all beer and skittles." Neither is the writing +of novels. It isn't, really. Je vous donne ma parole d'honneur that +it--is--not. Not _all_. I am thus emphatic because some years ago, I +remember, the daughter of a general. . . . + +Sudden revelations of the profane world must have come now and then +to hermits in their cells, to the cloistered monks of middle ages, to +lonely sages, men of science, reformers; the revelations of the world's +superficial judgment, shocking to the souls concentrated upon their +own bitter labour in the cause of sanctity, or of knowledge, or of +temperance, let us say, or of art, if only the art of cracking jokes +or playing the flute. And thus this general's daughter came to me--or I +should say one of the general's daughters did. There were three of +these bachelor ladies, of nicely graduated ages, who held a neighbouring +farm-house in a united and more or less military occupation. The +eldest warred against the decay of manners in the village children, and +executed frontal attacks upon the village mothers for the conquest of +courtesies. It sounds futile, but it was really a war for an idea. The +second skirmished and scouted all over the country; and it was that one +who pushed a reconnaissance right to my very table--I mean the one who +wore stand-up collars. + +She was really calling upon my wife in the soft spirit of afternoon +friendliness, but with her usual martial determination. She marched into +my room swinging her stick . . . but no--I mustn't exaggerate. It is not +my specialty. I am not a humoristic writer. In all soberness, then, all +I am certain of is that she had a stick to swing. + +No ditch or wall encompassed my abode. The window was open; the door, +too, stood open to that best friend of my work, the warm, still sunshine +of the wide fields. They lay around me infinitely helpful, but, truth to +say, I had not known for weeks whether the sun shone upon the earth and +whether the stars above still moved on their appointed courses. I was +just then giving up some days of my allotted span to the last chapters +of the novel "Nostromo," a tale of an imaginary (but true) seaboard, +which is still mentioned now and again, and indeed kindly, sometimes in +connection with the word "failure" and sometimes in conjunction with the +word "astonishing." I have no opinion on this discrepancy. It's the sort +of difference that can never be settled. All I know is that, for twenty +months, neglecting the common joys of life that fall to the lot of the +humblest on this earth, I had, like the prophet of old, "wrestled with +the Lord" for my creation, for the headlands of the coast, for the +darkness of the Placid Gulf, the light on the snows, the clouds in the +sky, and for the breath of life that had to be blown into the shapes +of men and women, of Latin and Saxon, of Jew and Gentile. These are, +perhaps, strong words, but it is difficult to characterize other wise +the intimacy and the strain of a creative effort in which mind and will +and conscience are engaged to the full, hour after hour, day after day, +away from the world, and to the exclusion of all that makes life really +lovable and gentle--something for which a material parallel can only be +found in the everlasting sombre stress of the westward winter passage +round Cape Horn. For that, too, is the wrestling of men with the might +of their Creator, in a great isolation from the world, without the +amenities and consolations of life, a lonely struggle under a sense of +overmatched littleness, for no reward that could be adequate, but for +the mere winning of a longitude. Yet a certain longitude, once won, +cannot be disputed. The sun and the stars and the shape of your earth +are the witnesses of your gain; whereas a handful of pages, no matter +how much you have made them your own, are at best but an obscure and +questionable spoil. Here they are. "Failure"--"Astonishing": take your +choice; or perhaps both, or neither--a mere rustle and flutter of pieces +of paper settling down in the night, and undistinguishable, like the +snowflakes of a great drift destined to melt away in sunshine. + +"How do you do?" + +It was the greeting of the general's daughter. I had heard nothing--no +rustle, no footsteps. I had felt only a moment before a sort of +premonition of evil; I had the sense of an inauspicious presence--just +that much warning and no more; and then came the sound of the voice and +the jar as of a terrible fall from a great height--a fall, let us say, +from the highest of the clouds floating in gentle procession over the +fields in the faint westerly air of that July afternoon. I picked myself +up quickly, of course; in other words, I jumped up from my chair stunned +and dazed, every nerve quivering with the pain of being uprooted out of +one world and flung down into another--perfectly civil. + +"Oh! How do you do? Won't you sit down?" + +That's what I said. This horrible but, I assure you, perfectly true +reminiscence tells you more than a whole volume of confessions a la Jean +Jacques Rousseau would do. Observe! I didn't howl at her, or start +upsetting furniture, or throw myself on the floor and kick, or allow +myself to hint in any other way at the appalling magnitude of the +disaster. The whole world of Costaguana (the country, you may remember, +of my seaboard tale), men, women, headlands, houses, mountains, town, +campo (there was not a single brick, stone, or grain of sand of its +soil I had not placed in position with my own hands); all the history, +geography, politics, finance; the wealth of Charles Gould's silver-mine, +and the splendour of the magnificent Capataz de Cargadores, whose name, +cried out in the night (Dr. Monygham heard it pass over his head--in +Linda Viola's voice), dominated even after death the dark gulf +containing his conquests of treasure and love--all that had come down +crashing about my ears. + +I felt I could never pick up the pieces--and in that very moment I was +saying, "Won't you sit down?" + +The sea is strong medicine. Behold what the quarter-deck training even +in a merchant ship will do! This episode should give you a new view of +the English and Scots seamen (a much-caricatured folk) who had the last +say in the formation of my character. One is nothing if not modest, +but in this disaster I think I have done some honour to their simple +teaching. "Won't you sit down?" Very fair; very fair, indeed. She sat +down. Her amused glance strayed all over the room. + +There were pages of MS. on the table and under the table, a batch of +typed copy on a chair, single leaves had fluttered away into distant +corners; there were there living pages, pages scored and wounded, dead +pages that would be burned at the end of the day--the litter of a cruel +battle-field, of a long, long, and desperate fray. Long! I suppose +I went to bed sometimes, and got up the same number of times. Yes, I +suppose I slept, and ate the food put before me, and talked connectedly +to my household on suitable occasions. But I had never been aware of +the even flow of daily life, made easy and noiseless for me by a silent, +watchful, tireless affection. Indeed, it seemed to me that I had been +sitting at that table surrounded by the litter of a desperate fray for +days and nights on end. It seemed so, because of the intense weariness +of which that interruption had made me aware--the awful disenchantment +of a mind realizing suddenly the futility of an enormous task, joined +to a bodily fatigue such as no ordinary amount of fairly heavy physical +labour could ever account for. I have carried bags of wheat on my back, +bent almost double under a ship's deck-beams, from six in the morning +till six in the evening (with an hour and a half off for meals), so I +ought to know. + +And I love letters. I am jealous of their honour and concerned for the +dignity and comeliness of their service. I was, most likely, the only +writer that neat lady had ever caught in the exercise of his craft, and +it distressed me not to be able to remember when it was that I dressed +myself last, and how. No doubt that would be all right in essentials. +The fortune of the house included a pair of gray-blue watchful eyes that +would see to that. But I felt, somehow, as grimy as a Costaguana lepero +after a day's fighting in the streets, rumpled all over and dishevelled +down to my very heels. And I am afraid I blinked stupidly. All this was +bad for the honour of letters and the dignity of their service. Seen +indistinctly through the dust of my collapsed universe, the good lady +glanced about the room with a slightly amused serenity. And she was +smiling. What on earth was she smiling at? She remarked casually: + +"I am afraid I interrupted you." + +"Not at all." + +She accepted the denial in perfect good faith. And it was strictly true. +Interrupted--indeed! She had robbed me of at least twenty lives, each +infinitely more poignant and real than her own, because informed with +passion, possessed of convictions, involved in great affairs created out +of my own substance for an anxiously meditated end. + +She remained silent for a while, then said, with a last glance all round +at the litter of the fray: + +"And you sit like this here writing your--your . . ." + +"I--what? Oh, yes! I sit here all day." + +"It must be perfectly delightful." + +I suppose that, being no longer very young, I might have been on the +verge of having a stroke; but she had left her dog in the porch, and my +boy's dog, patrolling the field in front, had espied him from afar. +He came on straight and swift like a cannon-ball, and the noise of the +fight, which burst suddenly upon our ears, was more than enough to scare +away a fit of apoplexy. We went out hastily and separated the gallant +animals. Afterward I told the lady where she would find my wife--just +round the corner, under the trees. She nodded and went off with her dog, +leaving me appalled before the death and devastation she had lightly +made--and with the awfully instructive sound of the word "delightful" +lingering in my ears. + +Nevertheless, later on, I duly escorted her to the field gate. I wanted +to be civil, of course (what are twenty lives in a mere novel that one +should be rude to a lady on their account?), but mainly, to adopt the +good, sound Ollendorffian style, because I did not want the dog of the +general's daughter to fight again (encore) with the faithful dog of +my infant son (mon petit garcon).--Was I afraid that the dog of the +general's daughter would be able to overcome (_vaincre_) the dog of my +child?--No, I was not afraid. . . . But away with the Ollendorff +method. However appropriate and seemingly unavoidable when I touch upon +anything appertaining to the lady, it is most unsuitable to the origin, +character, and history of the dog; for the dog was the gift to the child +from a man for whom words had anything but an Ollendorffian value, a man +almost childlike in the impulsive movements of his untutored genius, the +most single-minded of verbal impressionists, using his great gifts of +straight feeling and right expression with a fine sincerity and a strong +if, perhaps, not fully conscious conviction. His art did not obtain, +I fear, all the credit its unsophisticated inspiration deserved. I am +alluding to the late Stephen Crane, the author of "The Red Badge +of Courage," a work of imagination which found its short moment of +celebrity in the last decade of the departed century. Other books +followed. Not many. He had not the time. It was an individual and +complete talent which obtained but a grudging, somewhat supercilious +recognition from the world at large. For himself one hesitates to regret +his early death. Like one of the men in his "Open Boat," one felt that +he was of those whom fate seldom allows to make a safe landing after +much toil and bitterness at the oar. I confess to an abiding affection +for that energetic, slight, fragile, intensely living and transient +figure. He liked me, even before we met, on the strength of a page or +two of my writing, and after we had met I am glad to think he liked me +still. He used to point out to me with great earnestness, and even with +some severity, that "a boy _ought_ to have a dog." I suspect that he was +shocked at my neglect of parental duties. + +Ultimately it was he who provided the dog. Shortly afterward, one day, +after playing with the child on the rug for an hour or so with the most +intense absorption, he raised his head and declared firmly, "I shall +teach your boy to ride." That was not to be. He was not given the time. + +But here is the dog--an old dog now. Broad and low on his bandy paws, +with a black head on a white body and a ridiculous black spot at +the other end of him, he provokes, when he walks abroad, smiles +not altogether unkind. Grotesque and engaging in the whole of his +appearance, his usual attitudes are meek, but his temperament discloses +itself unexpectedly pugnacious in the presence of his kind. As he lies +in the firelight, his head well up, and a fixed, far away gaze directed +at the shadows of the room, he achieves a striking nobility of pose in +the calm consciousness of an unstained life. He has brought up one baby, +and now, after seeing his first charge off to school, he is bringing up +another with the same conscientious devotion, but with a more deliberate +gravity of manner, the sign of greater wisdom and riper experience, +but also of rheumatism, I fear. From the morning bath to the evening +ceremonies of the cot, you attend the little two-legged creature of your +adoption, being yourself treated in the exercise of your duties with +every possible regard, with infinite consideration, by every person in +the house--even as I myself am treated; only you deserve it more. + +The general's daughter would tell you that it must be "perfectly +delightful." + +Aha! old dog. She never heard you yelp with acute pain (it's that poor +left ear) the while, with incredible self-command, you preserve a rigid +immobility for fear of overturning the little two-legged creature. She +has never seen your resigned smile when the little two-legged creature, +interrogated, sternly, "What are you doing to the good dog?" answers, +with a wide, innocent stare: "Nothing. Only loving him, mamma dear!" + +The general's daughter does not know the secret terms of self-imposed +tasks, good dog, the pain that may lurk in the very rewards of rigid +self-command. But we have lived together many years. We have grown +older, too; and though our work is not quite done yet we may indulge now +and then in a little introspection before the fire--meditate on the art +of bringing up babies and on the perfect delight of writing tales where +so many lives come and go at the cost of one which slips imperceptibly +away. + + +VI + +In the retrospect of a life which had, besides its preliminary stage +of childhood and early youth, two distinct developments, and even two +distinct elements, such as earth and water, for its successive scenes, +a certain amount of naiveness is unavoidable. I am conscious of it in +these pages. This remark is put forward in no apologetic spirit. As +years go by and the number of pages grows steadily, the feeling grows +upon one, too, that one can write only for friends. Then why should one +put them to the necessity of protesting (as a friend would do) that no +apology is necessary, or put, perchance, into their heads the doubt of +one's discretion? So much as to the care due to those friends whom a +word here, a line there, a fortunate page of just feeling in the right +place, some happy simplicity, or even some lucky subtlety, has drawn +from the great multitude of fellow beings even as a fish is drawn from +the depths of the sea. Fishing is notoriously (I am talking now of the +deep sea) a matter of luck. As to one's enemies, they will take care of +themselves. + +There is a gentleman, for instance, who, metaphorically speaking, jumps +upon me with both feet. This image has no grace, but it is exceedingly +apt to the occasion--to the several occasions. I don't know precisely +how long he has been indulging in that intermittent exercise, whose +seasons are ruled by the custom of the publishing trade. Somebody +pointed him out (in printed shape, of course) to my attention some time +ago, and straightway I experienced a sort of reluctant affection for +that robust man. He leaves not a shred of my substance untrodden: for +the writer's substance is his writing; the rest of him is but a vain +shadow, cherished or hated on uncritical grounds. Not a shred! Yet the +sentiment owned to is not a freak of affectation or perversity. It has +a deeper, and, I venture to think, a more estimable origin than the +caprice of emotional lawlessness. It is, indeed, lawful, in so much +that it is given (reluctantly) for a consideration, for several +considerations. There is that robustness, for instance, so often the +sign of good moral balance. That's a consideration. It is not, indeed, +pleasant to be stamped upon, but the very thoroughness of the operation, +implying not only a careful reading, but some real insight into work +whose qualities and defects, whatever they may be, are not so much on +the surface, is something to be thankful for in view of the fact that it +may happen to one's work to be condemned without being read at all. This +is the most fatuous adventure that can well happen to a writer venturing +his soul among criticisms. It can do one no harm, of course, but it +is disagreeable. It is disagreeable in the same way as discovering +a three-card-trick man among a decent lot of folk in a third-class +compartment. The open impudence of the whole transaction, appealing +insidiously to the folly and credulity of mankind, the brazen, +shameless patter, proclaiming the fraud openly while insisting on the +fairness of the game, give one a feeling of sickening disgust. The +honest violence of a plain man playing a fair game fairly--even if he +means to knock you over--may appear shocking, but it remains within the +pale of decency. Damaging as it may be, it is in no sense offensive. One +may well feel some regard for honesty, even if practised upon one's own +vile body. But it is very obvious that an enemy of that sort will not be +stayed by explanations or placated by apologies. Were I to advance the +plea of youth in excuse of the naiveness to be found in these pages, he +would be likely to say "Bosh!" in a column and a half of fierce print. +Yet a writer is no older than his first published book, and, not +withstanding the vain appearances of decay which attend us in this +transitory life, I stand here with the wreath of only fifteen short +summers on my brow. + +With the remark, then, that at such tender age some naiveness of feeling +and expression is excusable, I proceed to admit that, upon the whole, +my previous state of existence was not a good equipment for a literary +life. Perhaps I should not have used the word literary. That word +presupposes an intimacy of acquaintance with letters, a turn of mind, +and a manner of feeling to which I dare lay no claim. I only love +letters; but the love of letters does not make a literary man, any more +than the love of the sea makes a seaman. And it is very possible, too, +that I love the letters in the same way a literary man may love the +sea he looks at from the shore--a scene of great endeavour and of great +achievements changing the face of the world, the great open way to all +sorts of undiscovered countries. No, perhaps I had better say that the +life at sea--and I don't mean a mere taste of it, but a good broad span +of years, something that really counts as real service--is not, upon the +whole, a good equipment for a writing life. God forbid, though, that I +should be thought of as denying my masters of the quarter-deck. I am not +capable of that sort of apostasy. I have confessed my attitude of piety +toward their shades in three or four tales, and if any man on earth more +than another needs to be true to himself as he hopes to be saved, it is +certainly the writer of fiction. + +What I meant to say, simply, is that the quarter-deck training does not +prepare one sufficiently for the reception of literary criticism. Only +that, and no more. But this defect is not without gravity. If it be +permissible to twist, invert, adapt (and spoil) Mr. Anatole France's +definition of a good critic, then let us say that the good author is he +who contemplates without marked joy or excessive sorrow the adventures +of his soul among criticisms. Far be from me the intention to mislead an +attentive public into the belief that there is no criticism at sea. That +would be dishonest, and even impolite. Everything can be found at +sea, according to the spirit of your quest--strife, peace, romance, +naturalism of the most pronounced kind, ideals, boredom, disgust, +inspiration--and every conceivable opportunity, including the +opportunity to make a fool of yourself, exactly as in the pursuit of +literature. But the quarter-deck criticism is somewhat different from +literary criticism. This much they have in common, that before the one +and the other the answering back, as a general rule, does not pay. + +Yes, you find criticism at sea, and even appreciation--I tell you +everything is to be found on salt water--criticism generally impromptu, +and always _viva voce_, which is the outward, obvious difference from the +literary operation of that kind, with consequent freshness and vigour +which may be lacking in the printed word. With appreciation, which comes +at the end, when the critic and the criticised are about to part, it +is otherwise. The sea appreciation of one's humble talents has the +permanency of the written word, seldom the charm of variety, is formal +in its phrasing. There the literary master has the superiority, though +he, too, can in effect but say--and often says it in the very phrase--"I +can highly recommend." Only usually he uses the word "We," there being +some occult virtue in the first person plural which makes it specially +fit for critical and royal declarations. I have a small handful of these +sea appreciations, signed by various masters, yellowing slowly in my +writing-table's left hand drawer, rustling under my reverent touch, like +a handful of dry leaves plucked for a tender memento from the tree of +knowledge. Strange! It seems that it is for these few bits of paper, +headed by the names of a few Scots and English shipmasters, that I have +faced the astonished indignations, the mockeries, and the reproaches of +a sort hard to bear for a boy of fifteen; that I have been charged with +the want of patriotism, the want of sense, and the want of heart, too; +that I went through agonies of self-conflict and shed secret tears not +a few, and had the beauties of the Furca Pass spoiled for me, and have +been called an "incorrigible Don Quixote," in allusion to the book-born +madness of the knight. For that spoil! They rustle, those bits of +paper--some dozen of them in all. In that faint, ghostly sound there +live the memories of twenty years, the voices of rough men now no +more, the strong voice of the everlasting winds, and the whisper of a +mysterious spell, the murmur of the great sea, which must have somehow +reached my inland cradle and entered my unconscious ear, like that +formula of Mohammedan faith the Mussulman father whispers into the ear +of his new-born infant, making him one of the faithful almost with his +first breath. I do not know whether I have been a good seaman, but I +know I have been a very faithful one. And, after all, there is that +handful of "characters" from various ships to prove that all these years +have not been altogether a dream. There they are, brief, and monotonous +in tone, but as suggestive bits of writing to me as any inspired page to +be found in literature. But then, you see, I have been called romantic. +Well, that can't be helped. But stay. I seem to remember that I have +been called a realist, also. And as that charge, too, can be made out, +let us try to live up to it, at whatever cost, for a change. With this +end in view, I will confide to you coyly, and only because there is +no one about to see my blushes by the light of the midnight lamp, that +these suggestive bits of quarter-deck appreciation, one and all, contain +the words "strictly sober." + +Did I overhear a civil murmur, "That's very gratifying, to be sure?" +Well, yes, it is gratifying--thank you. It is at least as gratifying to +be certified sober as to be certified romantic, though such certificates +would not qualify one for the secretaryship of a temperance association +or for the post of official troubadour to some lordly democratic +institution such as the London County Council, for instance. The above +prosaic reflection is put down here only in order to prove the general +sobriety of my judgment in mundane affairs. I make a point of it because +a couple of years ago, a certain short story of mine being published in +a French translation, a Parisian critic--I am almost certain it was M. +Gustave Kahn in the "Gil Blas"--giving me a short notice, summed up +his rapid impression of the writer's quality in the words _un puissant +reveur_. So be it! Who could cavil at the words of a friendly reader? Yet +perhaps not such an unconditional dreamer as all that. I will make bold +to say that neither at sea nor ashore have I ever lost the sense of +responsibility. There is more than one sort of intoxication. 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. It is but a maudlin and indecent verity that +comes out through the strength of wine. I have tried to be a sober +worker all my life--all my two lives. I did so from taste, no doubt, +having an instinctive horror of losing my sense of full self-possession, +but also from artistic conviction. Yet there are so many pitfalls on +each side of the true path that, having gone some way, and feeling a +little battered and weary, as a middle-aged traveller will from the +mere daily difficulties of the march, I ask myself whether I have kept +always, always faithful to that sobriety wherein there is power and +truth and peace. + +As to my sea sobriety, that is quite properly certified under the +sign-manual of several trustworthy shipmasters of some standing in their +time. I seem to hear your polite murmur that "Surely this might have +been taken for granted." Well, no. It might not have been. That August +academical body, the Marine Department of the Board of Trade, takes +nothing for granted in the granting of its learned degrees. By its +regulations issued under the first Merchant Shipping Act, the very word +_sober_ must be written, or a whole sackful, a ton, a mountain of the +most enthusiastic appreciation will avail you nothing. The door of the +examination rooms shall remain closed to your tears and entreaties. +The most fanatical advocate of temperance could not be more pitilessly +fierce in his rectitude than the Marine Department of the Board of +Trade. As I have been face to face at various times with all the +examiners of the Port of London in my generation, there can be no doubt +as to the force and the continuity of my abstemiousness. Three of them +were examiners in seamanship, and it was my fate to be delivered into +the hands of each of them at proper intervals of sea service. The first +of all, tall, spare, with a perfectly white head and mustache, a quiet, +kindly manner, and an air of benign intelligence, must, I am forced +to conclude, have been unfavourably impressed by something in my +appearance. His old, thin hands loosely clasped resting on his crossed +legs, he began by an elementary question, in a mild voice, and went +on, went on. . . . It lasted for hours, for hours. Had I been a strange +microbe with potentialities of deadly mischief to the Merchant Service I +could not have been submitted to a more microscopic examination. Greatly +reassured by his apparent benevolence, I had been at first very alert in +my answers. But at length the feeling of my brain getting addled crept +upon me. And still the passionless process went on, with a sense of +untold ages having been spent already on mere preliminaries. Then I got +frightened. I was not frightened of being plucked; that eventuality did +not even present itself to my mind. It was something much more serious +and weird. "This ancient person," I said to myself, terrified, "is +so near his grave that he must have lost all notion of time. He is +considering this examination in terms of eternity. It is all very well +for him. His race is run. But I may find myself coming out of this +room into the world of men a stranger, friendless, forgotten by my very +landlady, even were I able after this endless experience to remember +the way to my hired home." This statement is not so much of a verbal +exaggeration as may be supposed. Some very queer thoughts passed through +my head while I was considering my answers; thoughts which had nothing +to do with seamanship, nor yet with anything reasonable known to this +earth. I verily believe that at times I was light-headed in a sort of +languid way. At last there fell a silence, and that, too, seemed to +last for ages, while, bending over his desk, the examiner wrote out my +pass-slip slowly with a noiseless pen. He extended the scrap of paper to +me without a word, inclined his white head gravely to my parting +bow. . . . + +When I got out of the room I felt limply flat, like a squeezed lemon, +and the doorkeeper in his glass cage, where I stopped to get my hat and +tip him a shilling, said: + +"Well! I thought you were never coming out." + +"How long have I been in there?" I asked, faintly. + +He pulled out his watch. + +"He kept you, sir, just under three hours. I don't think this ever +happened with any of the gentlemen before." + +It was only when I got out of the building that I began to walk on +air. And the human animal being averse from change and timid before the +unknown, I said to myself that I really would not mind being examined +by the same man on a future occasion. But when the time of ordeal +came round again the doorkeeper let me into another room, with the +now familiar paraphernalia of models of ships and tackle, a board for +signals on the wall, a big, long table covered with official forms +and having an unrigged mast fixed to the edge. The solitary tenant +was unknown to me by sight, though not by reputation, which was simply +execrable. Short and sturdy, as far as I could judge, clad in an old +brown morning-suit, he sat leaning on his elbow, his hand shading his +eyes, and half averted from the chair I was to occupy on the other side +of the table. He was motionless, mysterious, remote, enigmatical, with +something mournful, too, in the pose, like that statue of Giugliano (I +think) de Medici shading his face on the tomb by Michael Angelo, though, +of course, he was far, far from being beautiful. He began by trying to +make me talk nonsense. But I had been warned of that fiendish trait, and +contradicted him with great assurance. After a while he left off. So +far good. But his immobility, the thick elbow on the table, the +abrupt, unhappy voice, the shaded and averted face grew more and more +impressive. He kept inscrutably silent for a moment, and then, placing +me in a ship of a certain size, at sea, under conditions of weather, +season, locality, etc.--all very clear and precise--ordered me to +execute a certain manoeuvre. Before I was half through with it he did +some material damage to the ship. Directly I had grappled with the +difficulty he caused another to present itself, and when that, too, +was met he stuck another ship before me, creating a very dangerous +situation. I felt slightly outraged by this ingenuity in piling trouble +upon a man. + +"I wouldn't have got into that mess," I suggested, mildly. "I could have +seen that ship before." + +He never stirred the least bit. + +"No, you couldn't. The weather's thick." + +"Oh! I didn't know," I apologized blankly. + +I suppose that after all I managed to stave off the smash with +sufficient approach to verisimilitude, and the ghastly business went on. +You must understand that the scheme of the test he was applying to me +was, I gathered, a homeward passage--the sort of passage I would not +wish to my bitterest enemy. That imaginary ship seemed to labour under +a most comprehensive curse. It's no use enlarging on these never-ending +misfortunes; suffice it to say that long before the end I would have +welcomed with gratitude an opportunity to exchange into the Flying +Dutchman. Finally he shoved me into the North Sea (I suppose) and +provided me with a lee shore with outlying sand-banks--the Dutch coast, +presumably. Distance, eight miles. The evidence of such implacable +animosity deprived me of speech for quite half a minute. + +"Well," he said--for our pace had been very smart, indeed, till then. + +"I will have to think a little, sir." + +"Doesn't look as if there were much time to think," he muttered, +sardonically, from under his hand. + +"No, sir," I said, with some warmth. "Not on board a ship, I could see. +But so many accidents have happened that I really can't remember what +there's left for me to work with." + +Still half averted, and with his eyes concealed, he made unexpectedly a +grunting remark. + +"You've done very well." + +"Have I the two anchors at the bow, sir?" I asked. + +"Yes." + +I prepared myself then, as a last hope for the ship, to let them both +go in the most effectual manner, when his infernal system of testing +resourcefulness came into play again. + +"But there's only one cable. You've lost the other." + +It was exasperating. + +"Then I would back them, if I could, and tail the heaviest hawser on +board on the end of the chain before letting go, and if she parted from +that, which is quite likely, I would just do nothing. She would have to +go." + +"Nothing more to do, eh?" + +"No, sir. I could do no more." + +He gave a bitter half-laugh. + +"You could always say your prayers." + +He got up, stretched himself, and yawned slightly. It was a sallow, +strong, unamiable face. He put me, in a surly, bored fashion, through +the usual questions as to lights and signals, and I escaped from the +room thank fully--passed! Forty minutes! And again I walked on air +along Tower Hill, where so many good men had lost their heads because, I +suppose, they were not resourceful enough to save them. And in my heart +of hearts I had no objection to meeting that examiner once more when the +third and last ordeal became due in another year or so. I even hoped +I should. I knew the worst of him now, and forty minutes is not an +unreasonable time. Yes, I distinctly hoped. . . . + +But not a bit of it. When I presented my self to be examined for master +the examiner who received me was short, plump, with a round, soft face +in gray, fluffy whiskers, and fresh, loquacious lips. + +He commenced operations with an easy going "Let's see. H'm. Suppose you +tell me all you know of charter-parties." He kept it up in that style +all through, wandering off in the shape of comment into bits out of his +own life, then pulling himself up short and returning to the business in +hand. It was very interesting. "What's your idea of a jury-rudder now?" +he queried, suddenly, at the end of an instructive anecdote bearing upon +a point of stowage. + +I warned him that I had no experience of a lost rudder at sea, and gave +him two classical examples of makeshifts out of a text-book. In exchange +he described to me a jury-rudder he had invented himself years before, +when in command of a three-thousand-ton steamer. It was, I declare, the +cleverest contrivance imaginable. "May be of use to you some day," +he concluded. "You will go into steam presently. Everybody goes into +steam." + +There he was wrong. I never went into steam--not really. If I only live +long enough I shall become a bizarre relic of a dead barbarism, a sort +of monstrous antiquity, the only seaman of the dark ages who had never +gone into steam--not really. + +Before the examination was over he imparted to me a few interesting +details of the transport service in the time of the Crimean War. + +"The use of wire rigging became general about that time, too," he +observed. "I was a very young master then. That was before you were +born." + +"Yes, sir. I am of the year of 1857." + +"The Mutiny year," he commented, as if to himself, adding in a louder +tone that his ship happened then to be in the Gulf of Bengal, employed +under a government charter. + +Clearly the transport service had been the making of this examiner, who +so unexpectedly had given me an insight into his existence, awakening in +me the sense of the continuity of that sea life into which I had stepped +from outside; giving a touch of human intimacy to the machinery of +official relations. I felt adopted. His experience was for me, too, as +though he had been an ancestor. + +Writing my long name (it has twelve letters) with laborious care on the +slip of blue paper, he remarked: + +"You are of Polish extraction." + +"Born there, sir." + +He laid down the pen and leaned back to look at me as it were for the +first time. + +"Not many of your nationality in our service, I should think. I never +remember meeting one either before or after I left the sea. Don't +remember ever hearing of one. An inland people, aren't you?" + +I said yes--very much so. We were remote from the sea not only by +situation, but also from a complete absence of indirect association, not +being a commercial nation at all, but purely agricultural. He made then +the quaint reflection that it was "a long way for me to come out to +begin a sea life"; as if sea life were not precisely a life in which one +goes a long way from home. + +I told him, smiling, that no doubt I could have found a ship much nearer +my native place, but I had thought to myself that if I was to be a +seaman, then I would be a British seaman and no other. It was a matter +of deliberate choice. + +He nodded slightly at that; and, as he kept on looking at me +interrogatively, I enlarged a little, confessing that I had spent a +little time on the way in the Mediterranean and in the West Indies. I +did not want to present myself to the British Merchant Service in an +altogether green state. It was no use telling him that my mysterious +vocation was so strong that my very wild oats had to be sown at sea. +It was the exact truth, but he would not have understood the somewhat +exceptional psychology of my sea-going, I fear. + +"I suppose you've never come across one of your countrymen at sea. Have +you, now?" + +I admitted I never had. The examiner had given himself up to the spirit +of gossiping idleness. For myself, I was in no haste to leave that room. +Not in the least. The era of examinations was over. I would never +again see that friendly man who was a professional ancestor, a sort of +grandfather in the craft. Moreover, I had to wait till he dismissed me, +and of that there was no sign. As he remained silent, looking at me, I +added: + +"But I have heard of one, some years ago. He seems to have been a boy +serving his time on board a Liverpool ship, if I am not mistaken." + +"What was his name?" + +I told him. + +"How did you say that?" he asked, puckering up his eyes at the uncouth +sound. + +I repeated the name very distinctly. + +"How do you spell it?" + +I told him. He moved his head at the impracticable nature of that name, +and observed: + +"It's quite as long as your own--isn't it?" + +There was no hurry. I had passed for master, and I had all the rest of +my life before me to make the best of it. That seemed a long time. I +went leisurely through a small mental calculation, and said: + +"Not quite. Shorter by two letters, sir." + +"Is it?" The examiner pushed the signed blue slip across the table to +me, and rose from his chair. Somehow this seemed a very abrupt ending of +our relations, and I felt almost sorry to part from that excellent man, +who was master of a ship before the whisper of the sea had reached my +cradle. He offered me his hand and wished me well. He even made a few +steps toward the door with me, and ended with good-natured advice. + +"I don't know what may be your plans, but you ought to go into steam. +When a man has got his master's certificate it's the proper time. If I +were you I would go into steam." + +I thanked him, and shut the door behind me definitely on the era of +examinations. But that time I did not walk on air, as on the first two +occasions. I walked across the hill of many beheadings with measured +steps. It was a fact, I said to myself, that I was now a British master +mariner beyond a doubt. It was not that I had an exaggerated sense of +that very modest achievement, with which, however, luck, opportunity, +or any extraneous influence could have had nothing to do. That +fact, satisfactory and obscure in itself, had for me a certain ideal +significance. It was an answer to certain outspoken scepticism and even +to some not very kind aspersions. I had vindicated myself from what had +been cried upon as a stupid obstinacy or a fantastic caprice. I don't +mean to say that a whole country had been convulsed by my desire to go +to sea. But for a boy between fifteen and sixteen, sensitive enough, +in all conscience, the commotion of his little world had seemed a very +considerable thing indeed. So considerable that, absurdly enough, the +echoes of it linger to this day. I catch myself in hours of solitude and +retrospect meeting arguments and charges made thirty-five years ago by +voices now forever still; finding things to say that an assailed boy +could not have found, simply because of the mysteriousness of his +impulses to himself. I understood no more than the people who called +upon me to explain myself. There was no precedent. I verily believe mine +was the only case of a boy of my nationality and antecedents taking +a, so to speak, standing jump out of his racial surroundings and +associations. For you must understand that there was no idea of any sort +of "career" in my call. Of Russia or Germany there could be no question. +The nationality, the antecedents, made it impossible. The feeling +against the Austrian service was not so strong, and I dare say there +would have been no difficulty in finding my way into the Naval School at +Pola. It would have meant six months' extra grinding at German, perhaps; +but I was not past the age of admission, and in other respects I was +well qualified. This expedient to palliate my folly was thought of--but +not by me. I must admit that in that respect my negative was accepted +at once. That order of feeling was comprehensible enough to the most +inimical of my critics. I was not called upon to offer explanations; +but the truth is that what I had in view was not a naval career, but +the sea. There seemed no way open to it but through France. I had the +language, at any rate, and of all the countries in Europe it is with +France that Poland has most connection. There were some facilities for +having me a little looked after, at first. Letters were being written, +answers were being received, arrangements were being made for my +departure for Marseilles, where an excellent fellow called Solary, +got at in a roundabout fashion through various French channels, had +promised good-naturedly to put le jeune homme in the way of getting a +decent ship for his first start if he really wanted a taste of ce metier +de chien. + +I watched all these preparations gratefully, and kept my own counsel. +But what I told the last of my examiners was perfectly true. Already +the determined resolve that "if a seaman, then an English seaman" was +formulated in my head, though, of course, in the Polish language. I did +not know six words of English, and I was astute enough to understand +that it was much better to say nothing of my purpose. As it was I was +already looked upon as partly insane, at least by the more distant +acquaintances. The principal thing was to get away. I put my trust in +the good-natured Solary's very civil letter to my uncle, though I was +shocked a little by the phrase about the metier de chien. + +This Solary (Baptistin), when I beheld him in the flesh, turned out a +quite young man, very good-looking, with a fine black, short beard, a +fresh complexion, and soft, merry black eyes. He was as jovial and good +natured as any boy could desire. I was still asleep in my room in a +modest hotel near the quays of the old port, after the fatigues of +the journey via Vienna, Zurich, Lyons, when he burst in, flinging the +shutters open to the sun of Provence and chiding me boisterously for +lying abed. How pleasantly he startled me by his noisy objurgations to +be up and off instantly for a "three years' campaign in the South Seas!" +O magic words! "_Une campagne de trois ans dans les mers du sud_"--that +is the French for a three years' deep-water voyage. + +He gave me a delightful waking, and his friendliness was unwearied; +but I fear he did not enter upon the quest for a ship for me in a very +solemn spirit. He had been at sea himself, but had left off at the age +of twenty-five, finding he could earn his living on shore in a much more +agreeable manner. He was related to an incredible number of Marseilles +well-to-do families of a certain class. One of his uncles was a +ship-broker of good standing, with a large connection among English +ships; other relatives of his dealt in ships' stores, owned sail-lofts, +sold chains and anchors, were master-stevedores, calkers, shipwrights. + +His grandfather (I think) was a dignitary of a kind, the Syndic of the +Pilots. I made acquaintances among these people, but mainly among the +pilots. The very first whole day I ever spent on salt water was by +invitation, in a big half-decked pilot-boat, cruising under close reefs +on the lookout, in misty, blowing weather, for the sails of ships and +the smoke of steamers rising out there, beyond the slim and tall Planier +lighthouse cutting the line of the wind-swept horizon with a white +perpendicular stroke. They were hospitable souls, these sturdy Provencal +seamen. Under the general designation of le petit ami de Baptistin I +was made the guest of the corporation of pilots, and had the freedom of +their boats night or day. And many a day and a night, too, did I spend +cruising with these rough, kindly men, under whose auspices my intimacy +with the sea began. Many a time "the little friend of Baptistin" had the +hooded cloak of the Mediterranean sailor thrown over him by their honest +hands while dodging at night under the lee of Chateau daft on the watch +for the lights of ships. Their sea tanned faces, whiskered or shaved, +lean or full, with the intent, wrinkled sea eyes of the pilot breed, and +here and there a thin gold hoop at the lobe of a hairy ear, bent over my +sea infancy. The first operation of seamanship I had an opportunity of +observing was the boarding of ships at sea, at all times, in all states +of the weather. They gave it to me to the full. And I have been invited +to sit in more than one tall, dark house of the old town at their +hospitable board, had the bouillabaisse ladled out into a thick plate +by their high-voiced, broad-browed wives, talked to their +daughters--thick-set girls, with pure profiles, glorious masses of black +hair arranged with complicated art, dark eyes, and dazzlingly white +teeth. + +I had also other acquaintances of quite a different sort. One of them, +Madame Delestang, an imperious, handsome lady in a statuesque style, +would carry me off now and then on the front seat of her carriage to the +Prado, at the hour of fashionable airing. She belonged to one of the old +aristocratic families in the south. In her haughty weariness she used to +make me think of Lady Dedlock in Dickens's "Bleak House," a work of the +master for which I have such an admiration, or rather such an intense +and unreasoning affection, dating from the days of my childhood, that +its very weaknesses are more precious to me than the strength of other +men's work. I have read it innumerable times, both in Polish and +in English; I have read it only the other day, and, by a not very +surprising inversion, the Lady Dedlock of the book reminded me strongly +of the "belle Madame Delestang." + +Her husband (as I sat facing them both), with his thin, bony nose and a +perfectly bloodless, narrow physiognomy clamped together, as it were, +by short, formal side whiskers, had nothing of Sir Leicester Dedlock's +"grand air" and courtly solemnity. He belonged to the haute bourgeoisie +only, and was a banker, with whom a modest credit had been opened for my +needs. He was such an ardent--no, such a frozen-up, mummified Royalist +that he used in current conversation turns of speech contemporary, +I should say, with the good Henri Quatre; and when talking of money +matters, reckoned not in francs, like the common, godless herd of +post-Revolutionary Frenchmen, but in obsolete and forgotten ecus--ecus +of all money units in the world!--as though Louis Quatorze were still +promenading in royal splendour the gardens of Versailles, and Monsieur +de Colbert busy with the direction of maritime affairs. You must admit +that in a banker of the nineteenth century it was a quaint idiosyncrasy. +Luckily, in the counting-house (it occupied part of the ground floor of +the Delestang town residence, in a silent, shady street) the accounts +were kept in modern money, so that I never had any difficulty in +making my wants known to the grave, low-voiced, decorous, Legitimist +(I suppose) clerks, sitting in the perpetual gloom of heavily barred +windows behind the sombre, ancient counters, beneath lofty ceilings with +heavily molded cornices. I always felt, on going out, as though I +had been in the temple of some very dignified but completely temporal +religion. And it was generally on these occasions that under the great +carriage gateway Lady Ded--I mean Madame Delestang--catching sight of my +raised hat, would beckon me with an amiable imperiousness to the side of +the carriage, and suggest with an air of amused nonchalance, "_Venez donc +faire un tour avec nous_," to which the husband would add an encouraging +"_C'est ca. Allons, montez, jeune homme_." He questioned me some times, +significantly but with perfect tact and delicacy, as to the way I +employed my time, and never failed to express the hope that I wrote +regularly to my "honoured uncle." I made no secret of the way I employed +my time, and I rather fancy that my artless tales of the pilots and so +on entertained Madame Delestang so far as that ineffable woman could +be entertained by the prattle of a youngster very full of his new +experience among strange men and strange sensations. She expressed no +opinions, and talked to me very little; yet her portrait hangs in the +gallery of my intimate memories, fixed there by a short and fleeting +episode. One day, after putting me down at the corner of a street, +she offered me her hand, and detained me, by a slight pressure, for a +moment. While the husband sat motionless and looking straight before +him, she leaned forward in the carriage to say, with just a shade of +warning in her leisurely tone: "_Il faut, cependant, faire attention a +ne pas gater sa vie_." I had never seen her face so close to mine before. +She made my heart beat and caused me to remain thoughtful for a whole +evening. Certainly one must, after all, take care not to spoil one's +life. But she did not know--nobody could know--how impossible that +danger seemed to me. + + +VII + +Can the transports of first love be calmed, checked, turned to a cold +suspicion of the future by a grave quotation from a work on political +economy? I ask--is it conceivable? Is it possible? Would it be right? +With my feet on the very shores of the sea and about to embrace my +blue-eyed dream, what could a good-natured warning as to spoiling one's +life mean to my youthful passion? It was the most unexpected and the +last, too, of the many warnings I had received. It sounded to me very +bizarre--and, uttered as it was in the very presence of my enchantress, +like the voice of folly, the voice of ignorance. But I was not so +callous or so stupid as not to recognize there also the voice of +kindness. And then the vagueness of the warning--because what can be the +meaning of the phrase: to spoil one's life?--arrested one's attention +by its air of wise profundity. At any rate, as I have said before, +the words of la belle Madame Delestang made me thoughtful for a whole +evening. I tried to understand and tried in vain, not having any notion +of life as an enterprise that could be mismanaged. But I left off being +thoughtful shortly before midnight, at which hour, haunted by no ghosts +of the past and by no visions of the future, I walked down the quay of +the Vieux Port to join the pilot-boat of my friends. I knew where she +would be waiting for her crew, in the little bit of a canal behind the +fort at the entrance of the harbour. The deserted quays looked very +white and dry in the moonlight, and as if frostbound in the sharp air +of that December night. A prowler or two slunk by noiselessly; a +custom-house guard, soldier-like, a sword by his side, paced close under +the bowsprits of the long row of ships moored bows on opposite the long, +slightly curved, continuous flat wall of the tall houses that seemed +to be one immense abandoned building with innumerable windows shuttered +closely. Only here and there a small, dingy cafe for sailors cast a +yellow gleam on the bluish sheen of the flagstones. Passing by, one +heard a deep murmur of voices inside--nothing more. How quiet everything +was at the end of the quays on the last night on which I went out for +a service cruise as a guest of the Marseilles pilots! Not a footstep, +except my own, not a sigh, not a whispering echo of the usual revelry +going on in the narrow, unspeakable lanes of the Old Town reached my +ear--and suddenly, with a terrific jingling rattle of iron and glass, +the omnibus of the Jolliette on its last journey swung around the corner +of the dead wall which faces across the paved road the characteristic +angular mass of the Fort St. Jean. Three horses trotted abreast, with +the clatter of hoofs on the granite setts, and the yellow, uproarious +machine jolted violently behind them, fantastic, lighted up, perfectly +empty, and with the driver apparently asleep on his swaying perch above +that amazing racket. I flattened myself against the wall and gasped. It +was a stunning experience. Then after staggering on a few paces in +the shadow of the fort, casting a darkness more intense than that of a +clouded night upon the canal, I saw the tiny light of a lantern standing +on the quay, and became aware of muffled figures making toward it from +various directions. Pilots of the Third Company hastening to embark. +Too sleepy to be talkative, they step on board in silence. But a few low +grunts and an enormous yawn are heard. Somebody even ejaculates: "_Ah! +Coquin de sort!_" and sighs wearily at his hard fate. + +The patron of the Third Company (there were five companies of pilots +at that time, I believe) is the brother-in-law of my friend Solary +(Baptistin), a broad-shouldered, deep chested man of forty, with a keen, +frank glance which always seeks your eyes. + +He greets me by a low, hearty "_He, l'ami. Comment va_?" With his clipped +mustache and massive open face, energetic and at the same time placid +in expression, he is a fine specimen of the southerner of the calm +type. For there is such a type in which the volatile southern passion +is transmuted into solid force. He is fair, but no one could mistake him +for a man of the north even by the dim gleam of the lantern standing on +the quay. He is worth a dozen of your ordinary Normans or Bretons, but +then, in the whole immense sweep of the Mediterranean shores, you could +not find half a dozen men of his stamp. + +Standing by the tiller, he pulls out his watch from under a thick jacket +and bends his head over it in the light cast into the boat. Time's up. +His pleasant voice commands, in a quiet undertone, "_Larguez_." A suddenly +projected arm snatches the lantern off the quay--and, warped along by +a line at first, then with the regular tug of four heavy sweeps in +the bow, the big half-decked boat full of men glides out of the black, +breathless shadow of the fort. The open water of the avant-port glitters +under the moon as if sown over with millions of sequins, and the long +white break water shines like a thick bar of solid silver. With a quick +rattle of blocks and one single silky swish, the sail is filled by a +little breeze keen enough to have come straight down from the frozen +moon, and the boat, after the clatter of the hauled-in sweeps, seems +to stand at rest, surrounded by a mysterious whispering so faint and +unearthly that it may be the rustling of the brilliant, overpowering +moon rays breaking like a rain-shower upon the hard, smooth, shadowless +sea. + +I may well remember that last night spent with the pilots of the Third +Company. I have known the spell of moonlight since, on various seas +and coasts--coasts of forests, of rocks, of sand dunes--but no magic so +perfect in its revelation of unsuspected character, as though one were +allowed to look upon the mystic nature of material things. For hours I +suppose no word was spoken in that boat. The pilots, seated in two rows +facing each other, dozed, with their arms folded and their chins resting +upon their breasts. They displayed a great variety of caps: cloth, wool, +leather, peaks, ear-flaps, tassels, with a picturesque round beret or +two pulled down over the brows; and one grandfather, with a shaved, bony +face and a great beak of a nose, had a cloak with a hood which made him +look in our midst like a cowled monk being carried off goodness knows +where by that silent company of seamen--quiet enough to be dead. + +My fingers itched for the tiller, and in due course my friend, the +patron, surrendered it to me in the same spirit in which the family +coachman lets a boy hold the reins on an easy bit of road. + +There was a great solitude around us; the islets ahead, Monte Cristo and +the Chateau daft in full light, seemed to float toward us--so steady, so +imperceptible was the progress of our boat. "Keep her in the furrow +of the moon," the patron directed me, in a quiet murmur, sitting down +ponderously in the stern-sheets and reaching for his pipe. + +The pilot station in weather like this was only a mile or two to the +westward of the islets; and presently, as we approached the spot, the +boat we were going to relieve swam into our view suddenly, on her way +home, cutting black and sinister into the wake of the moon under a +sable wing, while to them our sail must have been a vision of white +and dazzling radiance. Without altering the course a hair's breadth we +slipped by each other within an oar's length. A drawling, sardonic hail +came out of her. Instantly, as if by magic, our dozing pilots got on +their feet in a body. An incredible babel of bantering shouts burst out, +a jocular, passionate, voluble chatter, which lasted till the boats were +stern to stern, theirs all bright now, and, with a shining sail to our +eyes, we turned all black to their vision, and drew away from them under +a sable wing. That extraordinary uproar died away almost as suddenly +as it had begun; first one had enough of it and sat down, then another, +then three or four together; and when all had left off with mutters +and growling half-laughs the sound of hearty chuckling became audible, +persistent, unnoticed. The cowled grandfather was very much entertained +somewhere within his hood. + +He had not joined in the shouting of jokes, neither had he moved the +least bit. He had remained quietly in his place against the foot of the +mast. I had been given to understand long before that he had the rating +of a second-class able seaman (matelot leger) in the fleet which sailed +from Toulon for the conquest of Algeria in the year of grace 1830. And, +indeed, I had seen and examined one of the buttons of his old brown, +patched coat, the only brass button of the miscellaneous lot, flat and +thin, with the words Equipages de ligne engraved on it. That sort of +button, I believe, went out with the last of the French Bourbons. + +"I preserved it from the time of my navy service," he explained, nodding +rapidly his frail, vulture-like head. It was not very likely that he had +picked up that relic in the street. He looked certainly old enough to +have fought at Trafalgar--or, at any rate, to have played his little +part there as a powder monkey. Shortly after we had been introduced he +had informed me in a Franco-Provencal jargon, mumbling tremulously with +his toothless jaws, that when he was a "shaver no higher than that" he +had seen the Emperor Napoleon returning from Elba. It was at night, +he narrated vaguely, without animation, at a spot between Frejus and +Antibes, in the open country. A big fire had been lit at the side of the +cross-roads. The population from several villages had collected there, +old and young--down to the very children in arms, because the women had +refused to stay at home. Tall soldiers wearing high, hairy caps stood +in a circle, facing the people silently, and their stern eyes and big +mustaches were enough to make everybody keep at a distance. He, "being +an impudent little shaver," wriggled out of the crowd, creeping on his +hands and knees as near as he dared to the grenadiers' legs, and peeping +through discovered, standing perfectly still in the light of the fire, +"a little fat fellow in a three-cornered hat, buttoned up in a long +straight coat, with a big, pale face inclined on one shoulder, looking +something like a priest. His hands were clasped behind his back. . . . +It appears that this was the Emperor," the ancient commented, with a +faint sigh. He was staring from the ground with all his might, when +"my poor father," who had been searching for his boy frantically every +where, pounced upon him and hauled him away by the ear. + +The tale seems an authentic recollection. He related it to me many +times, using the very same words. The grandfather honoured me by a +special and somewhat embarrassing predilection. Extremes touch. He was +the oldest member by a long way in that company, and I was, if I may say +so, its temporarily adopted baby. He had been a pilot longer than any +man in the boat could remember; thirty--forty years. He did not seem +certain himself, but it could be found out, he suggested, in the +archives of the Pilot-office. He had been pensioned off years before, +but he went out from force of habit; and, as my friend the patron of the +company once confided to me in a whisper, "the old chap did no harm. +He was not in the way." They treated him with rough deference. One and +another would address some insignificant remark to him now and again, +but nobody really took any notice of what he had to say. He had survived +his strength, his usefulness, his very wisdom. He wore long, green, +worsted stockings pulled up above the knee over his trousers, a sort of +woollen nightcap on his hairless cranium, and wooden clogs on his feet. +Without his hooded cloak he looked like a peasant. Half a dozen hands +would be extended to help him on board, but afterward he was left pretty +much to his own thoughts. Of course he never did any work, except, +perhaps, to cast off some rope when hailed, "_He, l'Ancien!_ let go the +halyards there, at your hand"--or some such request of an easy kind. + +No one took notice in any way of the chuckling within the shadow of the +hood. He kept it up for a long time with intense enjoyment. Obviously he +had preserved intact the innocence of mind which is easily amused. But +when his hilarity had exhausted itself, he made a professional remark in +a self-assertive but quavering voice: + +"Can't expect much work on a night like this." + +No one took it up. It was a mere truism. Nothing under canvas could be +expected to make a port on such an idle night of dreamy splendour and +spiritual stillness. We would have to glide idly to and fro, keeping our +station within the appointed bearings, and, unless a fresh breeze sprang +up with the dawn, we would land before sunrise on a small islet that, +within two miles of us, shone like a lump of frozen moonlight, to "break +a crust and take a pull at the wine bottle." I was familiar with the +procedure. The stout boat emptied of her crowd would nestle her buoyant, +capable side against the very rock--such is the perfectly smooth amenity +of the classic sea when in a gentle mood. The crust broken and the +mouthful of wine swallowed--it was literally no more than that with this +abstemious race--the pilots would pass the time stamping their feet on +the slabs of sea-salted stone and blowing into their nipped fingers. One +or two misanthropists would sit apart, perched on boulders like +manlike sea-fowl of solitary habits; the sociably disposed would +gossip scandalously in little gesticulating knots; and there would be +perpetually one or another of my hosts taking aim at the empty horizon +with the long, brass tube of the telescope, a heavy, murderous-looking +piece of collective property, everlastingly changing hands with +brandishing and levelling movements. Then about noon (it was a short +turn of duty--the long turn lasted twenty-four hours) another boatful +of pilots would relieve us--and we should steer for the old Phoenician +port, dominated, watched over from the ridge of a dust-gray, arid hill +by the red-and-white striped pile of the Notre Dame de la Garde. + +All this came to pass as I had foreseen in the fullness of my very +recent experience. But also something not foreseen by me did happen, +something which causes me to remember my last outing with the pilots. It +was on this occasion that my hand touched, for the first time, the side +of an English ship. + +No fresh breeze had come with the dawn, only the steady little draught +got a more keen edge on it as the eastern sky became bright and glassy +with a clean, colourless light. It was while we were all ashore on the +islet that a steamer was picked up by the telescope, a black speck like +an insect posed on the hard edge of the offing. She emerged rapidly to +her water-line and came on steadily, a slim hull with a long streak of +smoke slanting away from the rising sun. We embarked in a hurry, and +headed the boat out for our prey, but we hardly moved three miles an +hour. + +She was a big, high-class cargo-steamer of a type that is to be met on +the sea no more--black hull, with low, white superstructures, powerfully +rigged with three masts and a lot of yards on the fore; two hands at her +enormous wheel--steam steering-gear was not a matter of course in these +days--and with them on the bridge three others, bulky in thick blue +jackets, ruddy-faced, muffled up, with peak caps--I suppose all her +officers. There are ships I have met more than once and known well by +sight whose names I have forgotten; but the name of that ship seen once +so many years ago in the clear flush of a cold, pale sunrise I have not +forgotten. How could I--the first English ship on whose side I ever +laid my hand! The name--I read it letter by letter on the bow--was +James Westoll. Not very romantic, you will say. The name of a very +considerable, well-known, and universally respected North country +ship-owner, I believe. James Westoll! What better name could an +honourable hard-working ship have? To me the very grouping of the +letters is alive with the romantic feeling of her reality as I saw her +floating motionless and borrowing an ideal grace from the austere purity +of the light. + +We were then very near her and, on a sudden impulse, I volunteered to +pull bow in the dinghy which shoved off at once to put the pilot on +board while our boat, fanned by the faint air which had attended us all +through the night, went on gliding gently past the black, glistening +length of the ship. A few strokes brought us alongside, and it was then +that, for the very first time in my life, I heard myself addressed +in English--the speech of my secret choice, of my future, of long +friendships, of the deepest affections, of hours of toil and hours of +ease, and of solitary hours, too, of books read, of thoughts pursued, +of remembered emotions--of my very dreams! And if (after being thus +fashioned by it in that part of me which cannot decay) I dare not claim +it aloud as my own, then, at any rate, the speech of my children. Thus +small events grow memorable by the passage of time. As to the quality +of the address itself I cannot say it was very striking. Too short for +eloquence and devoid of all charm of tone, it consisted precisely of the +three words "Look out there!" growled out huskily above my head. + +It proceeded from a big fat fellow (he had an obtrusive, hairy double +chin) in a blue woollen shirt and roomy breeches pulled up very high, +even to the level of his breastbone, by a pair of braces quite exposed +to public view. As where he stood there was no bulwark, but only a +rail and stanchions, I was able to take in at a glance the whole of his +voluminous person from his feet to the high crown of his soft black hat, +which sat like an absurd flanged cone on his big head. The grotesque and +massive aspect of that deck hand (I suppose he was that--very likely the +lamp-trimmer) surprised me very much. My course of reading, of dreaming, +and longing for the sea had not prepared me for a sea brother of that +sort. I never met again a figure in the least like his except in the +illustrations to Mr. W. W. Jacobs's most entertaining tales of barges +and coasters; but the inspired talent of Mr. Jacobs for poking endless +fun at poor, innocent sailors in a prose which, however extravagant in +its felicitous invention, is always artistically adjusted to observed +truth, was not yet. Perhaps Mr. Jacobs himself was not yet. I fancy +that, at most, if he had made his nurse laugh it was about all he had +achieved at that early date. + +Therefore, I repeat, other disabilities apart, I could not have been +prepared for the sight of that husky old porpoise. The object of +his concise address was to call my attention to a rope which he +incontinently flung down for me to catch. I caught it, though it was +not really necessary, the ship having no way on her by that time. Then +everything went on very swiftly. The dinghy came with a slight bump +against the steamer's side; the pilot, grabbing for the rope ladder, had +scrambled half-way up before I knew that our task of boarding was done; +the harsh, muffled clanging of the engine-room telegraph struck my ear +through the iron plate; my companion in the dinghy was urging me to +"shove off--push hard"; and when I bore against the smooth flank of +the first English ship I ever touched in my life, I felt it already +throbbing under my open palm. + +Her head swung a little to the west, pointing toward the miniature +lighthouse of the Jolliette breakwater, far away there, hardly +distinguishable against the land. The dinghy danced a squashy, splashy +jig in the wash of the wake; and, turning in my seat, I followed the +James Westoll with my eyes. Before she had gone in a quarter of a mile +she hoisted her flag, as the harbour regulations prescribe for arriving +and departing ships. I saw it suddenly flicker and stream out on the +flag staff. The Red Ensign! In the pellucid, colourless atmosphere +bathing the drab and gray masses of that southern land, the livid +islets, the sea of pale, glassy blue under the pale, glassy sky of that +cold sunrise, it was, as far as the eye could reach, the only spot of +ardent colour--flame-like, intense, and presently as minute as the tiny +red spark the concentrated reflection of a great fire kindles in +the clear heart of a globe of crystal. The Red Ensign--the symbolic, +protecting, warm bit of bunting flung wide upon the seas, and destined +for so many years to be the only roof over my head. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Personal Record, by Joseph Conrad + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PERSONAL RECORD *** + +***** This file should be named 687.txt or 687.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/8/687/ + +Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions 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. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Note: I have omitted the running heads ["A FAMILIAR PREFACE" and +"A PERSONAL RECORD"], and have made the following changes to +the text: +PAGE LINE ORIGINAL CHANGED TO + 129 18 thinkin thinking + 176 8 now now. + 207 14 ful full. + + + + + +A PERSONAL RECORD + +BY JOSEPH CONRAD + + + + + + +A FAMILIAR PREFACE + +As a general rule we do not want much encouragement to talk about +ourselves; yet this little book is the result of a friendly +suggestion, and even of a little friendly pressure. I defended +myself with some spirit; but, with characteristic tenacity, the +friendly voice insisted, "You know, you really must." + +It was not an argument, but I submitted at once. If one must! . +. . + +You perceive the force of a word. He who wants to persuade +should put his trust not in the right argument, but in the right +word. The power of sound has always been greater than the power +of sense. I don't say this by way of disparagement. It is +better for mankind to be impressionable than reflective. Nothing +humanely great--great, I mean, as affecting a whole mass of +lives--has come from reflection. On the other hand, you cannot +fail to see the power of mere words; such words as Glory, for +instance, or Pity. I won't mention any more. They are not far +to seek. Shouted with perseverance, with ardour, with +conviction, these two by their sound alone have set whole nations +in motion and upheaved the dry, hard ground on which rests our +whole social fabric. There's "virtue" for you if you like! . . . +Of course the accent must be attended to. The right accent. +That's very important. The capacious lung, the thundering or the +tender vocal chords. Don't talk to me of your Archimedes' lever. + +He was an absent-minded person with a mathematical imagination. +Mathematics commands all my respect, but I have no use for +engines. Give me the right word and the right accent and I will +move the world. + +What a dream for a writer! Because written words have their +accent, too. Yes! Let me only find the right word! Surely it +must be lying somewhere among the wreckage of all the plaints and +all the exultations poured out aloud since the first day when +hope, the undying, came down on earth. It may be there, close +by, disregarded, invisible, quite at hand. But it's no good. I +believe there are men who can lay hold of a needle in a pottle of +hay at the first try. For myself, I have never had such luck. +And then there is that accent. Another difficulty. For who is +going to tell whether the accent is right or wrong till the word +is shouted, and fails to be heard, perhaps, and goes down-wind, +leaving the world unmoved? Once upon a time there lived an +emperor who was a sage and something of a literary man. He +jotted down on ivory tablets thoughts, maxims, reflections which +chance has preserved for the edification of posterity. Among +other sayings--I am quoting from memory--I remember this solemn +admonition: "Let all thy words have the accent of heroic truth." +The accent of heroic truth! This is very fine, but I am thinking +that it is an easy matter for an austere emperor to jot down +grandiose advice. Most of the working truths on this earth are +humble, not heroic; and there have been times in the history of +mankind when the accents of heroic truth have moved it to nothing +but derision. + +Nobody will expect to find between the covers of this little book +words of extraordinary potency or accents of irresistible +heroism. However humiliating for my self esteem, I must confess +that the counsels of Marcus Aurelius are not for me. They are +more fit for a moralist than for an artist. Truth of a modest +sort I can promise you, and also sincerity. That complete, +praise worthy sincerity which, while it delivers one into the +hands of one's enemies, is as likely as not to embroil one with +one's friends. + +"Embroil" is perhaps too strong an expression. I can't imagine +among either my enemies or my friends a being so hard up for +something to do as to quarrel with me. "To disappoint one's +friends" would be nearer the mark. Most, almost all, friend +ships of the writing period of my life have come to me through my +books; and I know that a novelist lives in his work. He stands +there, the only reality in an invented world, among imaginary +things, happenings, and people. Writing about them, he is only +writing about himself. But the disclosure is not complete. He +remains, to a certain extent, a figure behind the veil; a +suspected rather than a seen presence--a movement and a voice +behind the draperies of fiction. In these personal notes there is +no such veil. And I cannot help thinking of a passage in the +"Imitation of Christ" where the ascetic author, who knew life so +profoundly, says that "there are persons esteemed on their +reputation who by showing themselves destroy the opinion one had +of them." This is the danger incurred by an author of fiction +who sets out to talk about himself without disguise. + +While these reminiscent pages were appearing serially I was +remonstrated with for bad economy; as if such writing were a form +of self-indulgence wasting the substance of future volumes. It +seems that I am not sufficiently literary. Indeed, a man who +never wrote a line for print till he was thirty-six cannot bring +himself to look upon his existence and his experience, upon the +sum of his thoughts, sensations, and emotions, upon his memories +and his regrets, and the whole possession of his past, as only so +much material for his hands. Once before, some three years ago, +when I published "The Mirror of the Sea," a volume of impressions +and memories, the same remarks were made to me. Practical +remarks. But, truth to say, I have never understood the kind of +thrift they recommend. I wanted to pay my tribute to the sea, +its ships and its men, to whom I remain indebted for so much +which has gone to make me what I am. That seemed to me the only +shape in which I could offer it to their shades. There could not +be a question in my mind of anything else. It is quite possible +that I am a bad economist; but it is certain that I am +incorrigible. + +Having matured in the surroundings and under the special +conditions of sea life, I have a special piety toward that form +of my past; for its impressions were vivid, its appeal direct, +its demands such as could be responded to with the natural +elation of youth and strength equal to the call. There was +nothing in them to perplex a young conscience. Having broken +away from my origins under a storm of blame from every quarter +which had the merest shadow of right to voice an opinion, removed +by great distances from such natural affections as were still +left to me, and even estranged, in a measure, from them by the +totally unintelligible character of the life which had seduced me +so mysteriously from my allegiance, I may safely say that through +the blind force of circumstances the sea was to be all my world +and the merchant service my only home for a long succession of +years. No wonder, then, that in my two exclusively sea +books--"The Nigger of the Narcissus," and "The Mirror of the Sea" +(and in the few short sea stories like "Youth" and "Typhoon"--I +have tried with an almost filial regard to render the vibration +of life in the great world of waters, in the hearts of the simple +men who have for ages traversed its solitudes, and also that +something sentient which seems to dwell in ships--the creatures +of their hands and the objects of their care. + +One's literary life must turn frequently for sustenance to +memories and seek discourse with the shades, unless one has made +up one's mind to write only in order to reprove mankind for what +it is, or praise it for what it is not, or--generally--to teach +it how to behave. Being neither quarrelsome, nor a flatterer, +nor a sage, I have done none of these things, and I am prepared +to put up serenely with the insignificance which attaches to +persons who are not meddlesome in some way or other. But +resignation is not indifference. I would not like to be left +standing as a mere spectator on the bank of the great stream +carrying onward so many lives. I would fain claim for myself the +faculty of so much insight as can be expressed in a voice of +sympathy and compassion. + +It seems to me that in one, at least, authoritative quarter of +criticism I am suspected of a certain unemotional, grim +acceptance of facts--of what the French would call secheresse du +coeur. Fifteen years of unbroken silence before praise or blame +testify sufficiently to my respect for criticism, that fine +flower of personal expression in the garden of letters. But this +is more of a personal matter, reaching the man behind the work, +and therefore it may be alluded to in a volume which is a +personal note in the margin of the public page. Not that I feel +hurt in the least. The charge--if it amounted to a charge at +all--was made in the most considerate terms; in a tone of regret. + +My answer is that if it be true that every novel contains an +element of autobiography--and this can hardly be denied, since +the creator can only express himself in his creation--then there +are some of us to whom an open display of sentiment is repugnant. + +I would not unduly praise the virtue of restraint. It is often +merely temperamental. But it is not always a sign of coldness. +It may be pride. There can be nothing more humiliating than to +see the shaft of one's emotion miss the mark of either laughter +or tears. Nothing more humiliating! And this for the reason +that should the mark be missed, should the open display of +emotion fail to move, then it must perish unavoidably in disgust +or contempt. No artist can be reproached for shrinking from a +risk which only fools run to meet and only genius dare confront +with impunity. In a task which mainly consists in laying one's +soul more or less bare to the world, a regard for decency, even +at the cost of success, is but the regard for one's own dignity +which is inseparably united with the dignity of one's work. + +And then--it is very difficult to be wholly joyous or wholly sad +on this earth. The comic, when it is human, soon takes upon +itself a face of pain; and some of our griefs (some only, not +all, for it is the capacity for suffering which makes man August +in the eyes of men) have their source in weaknesses which must be +recognized with smiling com passion as the common inheritance of +us all. Joy and sorrow in this world pass into each other, +mingling their forms and their murmurs in the twilight of life as +mysterious as an over shadowed ocean, while the dazzling +brightness of supreme hopes lies far off, fascinating and still, +on the distant edge of the horizon. + +Yes! I, too, would like to hold the magic wand giving that +command over laughter and tears which is declared to be the +highest achievement of imaginative literature. Only, to be a +great magician one must surrender oneself to occult and +irresponsible powers, either outside or within one's breast. We +have all heard of simple men selling their souls for love or +power to some grotesque devil. The most ordinary intelligence +can perceive without much reflection that anything of the sort is +bound to be a fool's bargain. I don't lay claim to particular +wisdom because of my dislike and distrust of such transactions. +It may be my sea training acting upon a natural disposition to +keep good hold on the one thing really mine, but the fact is that +I have a positive horror of losing even for one moving moment +that full possession of my self which is the first condition of +good service. And I have carried my notion of good service from +my earlier into my later existence. I, who have never sought in +the written word anything else but a form of the Beautiful--I +have carried over that article of creed from the decks of ships +to the more circumscribed space of my desk, and by that act, I +suppose, I have become permanently imperfect in the eyes of the +ineffable company of pure esthetes. + +As in political so in literary action a man wins friends for +himself mostly by the passion of his prejudices and by the +consistent narrowness of his outlook. But I have never been able +to love what was not lovable or hate what was not hateful out of +deference for some general principle. Whether there be any +courage in making this admission I know not. After the middle +turn of life's way we consider dangers and joys with a tranquil +mind. So I proceed in peace to declare that I have always +suspected in the effort to bring into play the extremities of +emotions the debasing touch of insincerity. In order to move +others deeply we must deliberately allow ourselves to be carried +away beyond the bounds of our normal sensibility--innocently +enough, perhaps, and of necessity, like an actor who raises his +voice on the stage above the pitch of natural conversation--but +still we have to do that. And surely this is no great sin. But +the danger lies in the writer becoming the victim of his own +exaggeration, losing the exact notion of sincerity, and in the +end coming to despise truth itself as something too cold, too +blunt for his purpose--as, in fact, not good enough for his +insistent emotion. From laughter and tears the descent is easy +to snivelling and giggles. + +These may seem selfish considerations; but you can't, in sound +morals, condemn a man for taking care of his own integrity. It +is his clear duty. And least of all can you condemn an artist +pursuing, however humbly and imperfectly, a creative aim. In +that interior world where his thought and his emotions go seeking +for the experience of imagined adventures, there are no +policemen, no law, no pressure of circumstance or dread of +opinion to keep him within bounds. Who then is going to say Nay +to his temptations if not his conscience? + +And besides--this, remember, is the place and the moment of +perfectly open talk--I think that all ambitions are lawful except +those which climb upward on the miseries or credulities of +mankind. All intellectual and artistic ambitions are +permissible, up to and even beyond the limit of prudent sanity. +They can hurt no one. If they are mad, then so much the worse +for the artist. Indeed, as virtue is said to be, such ambitions +are their own reward. Is it such a very mad presumption to +believe in the sovereign power of one's art, to try for other +means, for other ways of affirming this belief in the deeper +appeal of one's work? To try to go deeper is not to be +insensible. A historian of hearts is not a historian of +emotions, yet he penetrates further, restrained as he may be, +since his aim is to reach the very fount of laughter and tears. +The sight of human affairs deserves admiration and pity. They +are worthy of respect, too. And he is not insensible who pays +them the undemonstrative tribute of a sigh which is not a sob, +and of a smile which is not a grin. Resignation, not mystic, not +detached, but resignation open-eyed, conscious, and informed by +love, is the only one of our feelings for which it is impossible +to become a sham. + +Not that I think resignation the last word of wisdom. I am too +much the creature of my time for that. But I think that the +proper wisdom is to will what the gods will without, perhaps, +being certain what their will is--or even if they have a will of +their own. And in this matter of life and art it is not the Why +that matters so much to our happiness as the How. As the +Frenchman said, "Il y a toujours la maniere." Very true. Yes. +There is the manner. The manner in laughter, in tears, in irony, +in indignations and enthusiasms, in judgments--and even in love. +The manner in which, as in the features and character of a human +face, the inner truth is foreshadowed for those who know how to +look at their kind. + +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, among 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. The +revolutionary spirit is mighty convenient in this, that it frees +one from all scruples as regards ideas. Its hard, absolute +optimism is repulsive to my mind by the menace of fanaticism and +intolerance it contains. No doubt one should smile at these +things; but, imperfect Esthete, I am no better Philosopher. + +All claim to special righteousness awakens in me that scorn and +danger from which a philosophical mind should be free. . . . + +I fear that trying to be conversational I have only managed to be +unduly discursive. I have never been very well acquainted with +the art of conversation--that art which, I understand, is +supposed to be lost now. My young days, the days when one's +habits and character are formed, have been rather familiar with +long silences. Such voices as broke into them were anything but +conversational. No. I haven't got the habit. Yet this +discursiveness is not so irrelevant to the handful of pages which +follow. They, too, have been charged with discursiveness, with +disregard of chronological order (which is in itself a crime), +with unconventionality of form (which is an impropriety). I was +told severely that the public would view with displeasure the +informal character of my recollections. "Alas!" I protested, +mildly. "Could I begin with the sacramental words, 'I was born +on such a date in such a place'? The remoteness of the locality +would have robbed the statement of all interest. I haven't lived +through wonderful adventures to be related seriatim. I haven't +known distinguished men on whom I could pass fatuous remarks. I +haven't been mixed up with great or scandalous affairs. This is +but a bit of psychological document, and even so, I haven't +written it with a view to put forward any conclusion of my own." + +But my objector was not placated. These were good reasons for +not writing at all--not a defense of what stood written already, +he said. + +I admit that almost anything, anything in the world, would serve +as a good reason for not writing at all. But since I have +written them, all I want to say in their defense is that these +memories put down without any regard for established conventions +have not been thrown off without system and purpose. They have +their hope and their aim. The hope that from the reading of +these pages there may emerge at last the vision of a personality; +the man behind the books so fundamentally dissimilar as, for +instance, "Almayer's Folly" and "The Secret Agent," and yet a +coherent, justifiable personality both in its origin and in its +action. This is the hope. The immediate aim, closely associated +with the hope, is to give the record of personal memories by +presenting faithfully the feelings and sensations connected with +the writing of my first book and with my first contact with the +sea. + +In the purposely mingled resonance of this double strain a friend +here and there will perhaps detect a subtle accord. + +J. C. K. + + + + +A PERSONAL RECORD + +I + +Books may be written in all sorts of places. Verbal inspiration +may enter the berth of a mariner on board a ship frozen fast in a +river in the middle of a town; and since saints are supposed to +look benignantly on humble believers, I indulge in the pleasant +fancy that the shade of old Flaubert--who imagined himself to be +(among other things) a descendant of Vikings--might have hovered +with amused interest over the docks of a 2,000-ton steamer called +the Adowa, on board of which, gripped by the inclement winter +alongside a quay in Rouen, the tenth chapter of "Almayer's Folly" +was begun. With interest, I say, for was not the kind Norman +giant with enormous mustaches and a thundering voice the last of +the Romantics? Was he not, in his unworldly, almost ascetic, +devotion to his art, a sort of literary, saint-like hermit? + +"'It has set at last,' said Nina to her mother, pointing to the +hills behind which the sun had sunk." . . . These words of +Almayer's romantic daughter I remember tracing on the gray paper +of a pad which rested on the blanket of my bed-place. They +referred to a sunset in Malayan Isles and shaped themselves in my +mind, in a hallucinated vision of forests and rivers and seas, +far removed from a commercial and yet romantic town of the +northern hemisphere. But at that moment the mood of visions and +words was cut short by the third officer, a cheerful and casual +youth, coming in with a bang of the door and the exclamation: +"You've made it jolly warm in here." + +It was warm. I had turned on the steam heater after placing a +tin under the leaky water-cock--for perhaps you do not know that +water will leak where steam will not. I am not aware of what my +young friend had been doing on deck all that morning, but the +hands he rubbed together vigorously were very red and imparted to +me a chilly feeling by their mere aspect. He has remained the +only banjoist of my acquaintance, and being also a younger son of +a retired colonel, the poem of Mr. Kipling, by a strange +aberration of associated ideas, always seems to me to have been +written with an exclusive view to his person. When he did not +play the banjo he loved to sit and look at it. He proceeded to +this sentimental inspection, and after meditating a while over +the strings under my silent scrutiny inquired, airily: + +"What are you always scribbling there, if it's fair to ask?" + +It was a fair enough question, but I did not answer him, and +simply turned the pad over with a movement of instinctive +secrecy: I could not have told him he had put to flight the +psychology of Nina Almayer, her opening speech of the tenth +chapter, and the words of Mrs. Almayer's wisdom which were to +follow in the ominous oncoming of a tropical night. I could not +have told him that Nina had said, "It has set at last." He would +have been extremely surprised and perhaps have dropped his +precious banjo. Neither could I have told him that the sun of my +sea-going was setting, too, even as I wrote the words expressing +the impatience of passionate youth bent on its desire. I did not +know this myself, and it is safe to say he would not have cared, +though he was an excellent young fellow and treated me with more +deference than, in our relative positions, I was strictly +entitled to. + +He lowered a tender gaze on his banjo, and I went on looking +through the port-hole. The round opening framed in its brass rim +a fragment of the quays, with a row of casks ranged on the frozen +ground and the tail end of a great cart. A red-nosed carter in a +blouse and a woollen night-cap leaned against the wheel. An +idle, strolling custom house guard, belted over his blue capote, +had the air of being depressed by exposure to the weather and the +monotony of official existence. The background of grimy houses +found a place in the picture framed by my port-hole, across a +wide stretch of paved quay brown with frozen mud. The colouring +was sombre, and the most conspicuous feature was a little cafe +with curtained windows and a shabby front of white woodwork, +corresponding with the squalor of these poorer quarters bordering +the river. We had been shifted down there from another berth in +the neighbourhood of the Opera House, where that same port-hole +gave me a view of quite another soft of cafe--the best in the +town, I believe, and the very one where the worthy Bovary and his +wife, the romantic daughter of old Pere Renault, had some +refreshment after the memorable performance of an opera which was +the tragic story of Lucia di Lammermoor in a setting of light +music. + +I could recall no more the hallucination of the Eastern +Archipelago which I certainly hoped to see again. The story of +"Almayer's Folly" got put away under the pillow for that day. I +do not know that I had any occupation to keep me away from it; +the truth of the matter is that on board that ship we were +leading just then a contemplative life. I will not say anything +of my privileged position. I was there "just to oblige," as an +actor of standing may take a small part in the benefit +performance of a friend. + +As far as my feelings were concerned I did not wish to be in that +steamer at that time and in those circumstances. And perhaps I +was not even wanted there in the usual sense in which a ship +"wants" an officer. It was the first and last instance in my sea +life when I served ship-owners who have remained completely +shadowy to my apprehension. I do not mean this for the +well-known firm of London ship-brokers which had chartered the +ship to the, I will not say short-lived, but ephemeral +Franco-Canadian Transport Company. A death leaves something +behind, but there was never anything tangible left from the F. C. +T. C. It flourished no longer than roses live, and unlike the +roses it blossomed in the dead of winter, emitted a sort of faint +perfume of adventure, and died before spring set in. But +indubitably it was a company, it had even a house-flag, all white +with the letters F. C. T. C. artfully tangled up in a complicated +monogram. We flew it at our mainmast head, and now I have come +to the conclusion that it was the only flag of its kind in +existence. All the same we on board, for many days, had the +impression of being a unit of a large fleet with fortnightly +departures for Montreal and Quebec as advertised in pamphlets and +prospectuses which came aboard in a large package in Victoria +Dock, London, just before we started for Rouen, France. And in +the shadowy life of the F. C. T. C. lies the secret of that, my +last employment in my calling, which in a remote sense +interrupted the rhythmical development of Nina Almayer's story. + +The then secretary of the London Shipmasters' Society, with its +modest rooms in Fenchurch Street, was a man of indefatigable +activity and the greatest devotion to his task. He is +responsible for what was my last association with a ship. I call +it that be cause it can hardly be called a sea-going experience. +Dear Captain Froud--it is impossible not to pay him the tribute +of affectionate familiarity at this distance of years--had very +sound views as to the advancement of knowledge and status for the +whole body of the officers of the mercantile marine. He organized +for us courses of professional lectures, St. John ambulance +classes, corresponded industriously with public bodies and +members of Parliament on subjects touching the interests of the +service; and as to the oncoming of some inquiry or commission +relating to matters of the sea and to the work of seamen, it was +a perfect godsend to his need of exerting himself on our +corporate behalf. Together with this high sense of his official +duties he had in him a vein of personal kindness, a strong +disposition to do what good he could to the individual members of +that craft of which in his time he had been a very excellent +master. And what greater kindness can one do to a seaman than to +put him in the way of employment? Captain Froud did not see why +the Shipmasters' Society, besides its general guardianship of our +interests, should not be unofficially an employment agency of the +very highest class. + +"I am trying to persuade all our great ship-owning firms to come +to us for their men. There is nothing of a trade-union spirit +about our society, and I really don't see why they should not," +he said once to me. "I am always telling the captains, too, +that, all things being equal, they ought to give preference to +the members of the society. In my position I can generally find +for them what they want among our members or our associate +members." + +In my wanderings about London from west to east and back again (I +was very idle then) the two little rooms in Fenchurch Street were +a sort of resting-place where my spirit, hankering after the sea, +could feel itself nearer to the ships, the men, and the life of +its choice--nearer there than on any other spot of the solid +earth. This resting-place used to be, at about five o'clock in +the afternoon, full of men and tobacco smoke, but Captain Froud +had the smaller room to himself and there he granted private +interviews, whose principal motive was to render service. Thus, +one murky November afternoon he beckoned me in with a crooked +finger and that peculiar glance above his spectacles which is +perhaps my strongest physical recollection of the man. + +"I have had in here a shipmaster, this morning," he said, getting +back to his desk and motioning me to a chair, "who is in want of +an officer. It's for a steamship. You know, nothing pleases me +more than to be asked, but, unfortunately, I do not quite see my +way . . ." + +As the outer room was full of men I cast a wondering glance at +the closed door; but he shook his head. + +"Oh, yes, I should be only too glad to get that berth for one of +them. But the fact of the matter is, the captain of that ship +wants an officer who can speak French fluently, and that's not so +easy to find. I do not know anybody myself but you. It's a +second officer's berth and, of course, you would not care . . . +would you now? I know that it isn't what you are looking for." + +It was not. I had given myself up to the idleness of a haunted +man who looks for nothing but words wherein to capture his +visions. But I admit that outwardly I resembled sufficiently a +man who could make a second officer for a steamer chartered by a +French company. I showed no sign of being haunted by the fate of +Nina and by the murmurs of tropical forests; and even my intimate +intercourse with Almayer (a person of weak character) had not put +a visible mark upon my features. For many years he and the world +of his story had been the companions of my imagination without, I +hope, impairing my ability to deal with the realities of sea +life. I had had the man and his surroundings with me ever since +my return from the eastern waters--some four years before the day +of which I speak. + +It was in the front sitting-room of furnished apartments in a +Pimlico square that they first began to live again with a +vividness and poignancy quite foreign to our former real +intercourse. I had been treating myself to a long stay on shore, +and in the necessity of occupying my mornings Almayer (that old +acquaintance) came nobly to the rescue. + +Before long, as was only proper, his wife and daughter joined him +round my table, and then the rest of that Pantai band came full +of words and gestures. Unknown to my respectable landlady, it +was my practice directly after my breakfast to hold animated +receptions of Malays, Arabs, and half-castes. They did not +clamour aloud for my attention. They came with a silent and +irresistible appeal--and the appeal, I affirm here, was not to my +self-love or my vanity. It seems now to have had a moral +character, for why should the memory of these beings, seen in +their obscure, sun-bathed existence, demand to express itself in +the shape of a novel, except on the ground of that mysterious +fellowship which unites in a community of hopes and fears all the +dwellers on this earth? + +I did not receive my visitors with boisterous rapture as the +bearers of any gifts of profit or fame. There was no vision of a +printed book before me as I sat writing at that table, situated +in a decayed part of Belgravia. After all these years, each +leaving its evidence of slowly blackened pages, I can honestly +say that it is a sentiment akin to pity which prompted me to +render in words assembled with conscientious care the memory of +things far distant and of men who had lived. + +But, coming back to Captain Froud and his fixed idea of never +disappointing ship owners or ship-captains, it was not likely +that I should fail him in his ambition--to satisfy at a few +hours' notice the unusual demand for a French-speaking officer. +He explained to me that the ship was chartered by a French +company intending to establish a regular monthly line of sailings +from Rouen, for the transport of French emigrants to Canada. +But, frankly, this sort of thing did not interest me very much. +I said gravely that if it were really a matter of keeping up the +reputation of the Shipmasters' Society I would consider it. But +the consideration was just for form's sake. The next day I +interviewed the captain, and I believe we were impressed +favourably with each other. He explained that his chief mate was +an excellent man in every respect and that he could not think of +dismissing him so as to give me the higher position; but that if +I consented to come as second officer I would be given certain +special advantages--and so on. + +I told him that if I came at all the rank really did not matter. + +"I am sure," he insisted, "you will get on first rate with Mr. +Paramor." + +I promised faithfully to stay for two trips at least, and it was +in those circumstances that what was to be my last connection +with a ship began. And after all there was not even one single +trip. It may be that it was simply the fulfilment of a fate, of +that written word on my forehead which apparently for bade me, +through all my sea wanderings, ever to achieve the crossing of +the Western Ocean--using the words in that special sense in which +sailors speak of Western Ocean trade, of Western Ocean packets, +of Western Ocean hard cases. The new life attended closely upon +the old, and the nine chapters of "Almayer's Folly" went with me +to the Victoria Dock, whence in a few days we started for Rouen. +I won't go so far as saying that the engaging of a man fated +never to cross the Western Ocean was the absolute cause of the +Franco-Canadian Transport Company's failure to achieve even a +single passage. It might have been that of course; but the +obvious, gross obstacle was clearly the want of money. Four +hundred and sixty bunks for emigrants were put together in the +'tween decks by industrious carpenters while we lay in the +Victoria Dock, but never an emigrant turned up in Rouen--of +which, being a humane person, I confess I was glad. Some +gentlemen from Paris--I think there were three of them, and one +was said to be the chairman--turned up, indeed, and went from end +to end of the ship, knocking their silk hats cruelly against the +deck beams. I attended them personally, and I can vouch for it +that the interest they took in things was intelligent enough, +though, obviously, they had never seen anything of the sort +before. Their faces as they went ashore wore a cheerfully +inconclusive expression. Notwithstanding that this inspecting +ceremony was supposed to be a preliminary to immediate sailing, +it was then, as they filed down our gangway, that I received the +inward monition that no sailing within the meaning of our charter +party would ever take place. + +It must be said that in less than three weeks a move took place. +When we first arrived we had been taken up with much ceremony +well toward the centre of the town, and, all the street corners +being placarded with the tricolor posters announcing the birth of +our company, the petit bourgeois with his wife and family made a +Sunday holiday from the inspection of the ship. I was always in +evidence in my best uniform to give information as though I had +been a Cook's tourists' interpreter, while our quartermasters +reaped a harvest of small change from personally conducted +parties. But when the move was made--that move which carried us +some mile and a half down the stream to be tied up to an +altogether muddier and shabbier quay--then indeed the desolation +of solitude became our lot. It was a complete and soundless +stagnation; for as we had the ship ready for sea to the smallest +detail, as the frost was hard and the days short, we were +absolutely idle--idle to the point of blushing with shame when +the thought struck us that all the time our salaries went on. +Young Cole was aggrieved because, as he said, we could not enjoy +any sort of fun in the evening after loafing like this all day; +even the banjo lost its charm since there was nothing to prevent +his strumming on it all the time between the meals. The good +Paramor--he was really a most excellent fellow--became unhappy as +far as was possible to his cheery nature, till one dreary day I +suggested, out of sheer mischief, that he should employ the +dormant energies of the crew in hauling both cables up on deck +and turning them end for end. + +For a moment Mr. Paramor was radiant. "Excellent idea!" but +directly his face fell. "Why . . . Yes! But we can't make that +job last more than three days," he muttered, discontentedly. I +don't know how long he expected us to be stuck on the riverside +outskirts of Rouen, but I know that the cables got hauled up and +turned end for end according to my satanic suggestion, put down +again, and their very existence utterly forgotten, I believe, +before a French river pilot came on board to take our ship down, +empty as she came, into the Havre roads. You may think that this +state of forced idleness favoured some advance in the fortunes of +Almayer and his daughter. Yet it was not so. As if it were some +sort of evil spell, my banjoist cabin mate's interruption, as +related above, had arrested them short at the point of that +fateful sunset for many weeks together. It was always thus with +this book, begun in '89 and finished in '94--with that shortest +of all the novels which it was to be my lot to write. Between +its opening exclamation calling Almayer to his dinner in his +wife's voice and Abdullah's (his enemy) mental reference to the +God of Islam--"The Merciful, the Compassionate"--which closes the +book, there were to come several long sea passages, a visit (to +use the elevated phraseology suitable to the occasion) to the +scenes (some of them) of my childhood and the realization of +childhood's vain words, expressing a light-hearted and romantic +whim. + +It was in 1868, when nine years old or thereabouts, that while +looking at a map of Africa of the time and putting my finger on +the blank space then representing the unsolved mystery of that +continent, I said to myself, with absolute assurance and an +amazing audacity which are no longer in my character now: + +"When I grow up I shall go THERE." + +And of course I thought no more about it till after a quarter of +a century or so an opportunity offered to go there--as if the sin +of childish audacity were to be visited on my mature head. Yes. +I did go there: THERE being the region of Stanley Falls, which in +'68 was the blankest of blank spaces on the earth's figured +surface. And the MS. of "Almayer's Folly," carried about me as +if it were a talisman or a treasure, went THERE, too. That it +ever came out of THERE seems a special dispensation of +Providence, because a good many of my other properties, +infinitely more valuable and useful to me, remained behind +through unfortunate accidents of transportation. I call to mind, +for instance, a specially awkward turn of the Congo between +Kinchassa and Leopoldsville--more particularly when one had to +take it at night in a big canoe with only half the proper number +of paddlers. I failed in being the second white man on record +drowned at that interesting spot through the upsetting of a +canoe. The first was a young Belgian officer, but the accident +happened some months before my time, and he, too, I believe, was +going home; not perhaps quite so ill as myself--but still he was +going home. I got round the turn more or less alive, though I +was too sick to care whether I did or not, and, always with +"Almayer's Folly" among my diminishing baggage, I arrived at that +delectable capital, Boma, where, before the departure of the +steamer which was to take me home, I had the time to wish myself +dead over and over again with perfect sincerity. At that date +there were in existence only seven chapters of "Almayer's Folly," +but the chapter in my history which followed was that of a long, +long illness and very dismal convalescence. Geneva, or more +precisely the hydropathic establishment of Champel, is rendered +forever famous by the termination of the eighth chapter in the +history of Almayer's decline and fall. The events of the ninth +are inextricably mixed up with the details of the proper +management of a waterside warehouse owned by a certain city firm +whose name does not matter. But that work, undertaken to +accustom myself again to the activities of a healthy existence, +soon came to an end. The earth had nothing to hold me with for +very long. And then that memorable story, like a cask of choice +Madeira, got carried for three years to and fro upon the sea. +Whether this treatment improved its flavour or not, of course I +would not like to say. As far as appearance is concerned it +certainly did nothing of the kind. The whole MS. acquired a +faded look and an ancient, yellowish complexion. It became at +last unreasonable to suppose that anything in the world would +ever happen to Almayer and Nina. And yet something most unlikely +to happen on the high seas was to wake them up from their state +of suspended animation. + +What is it that Novalis says: "It is certain my conviction gains +infinitely the moment an other soul will believe in it." And +what is a novel if not a conviction of our fellow-men's existence +strong enough to take upon itself a form of imagined life clearer +than reality and whose accumulated verisimilitude of selected +episodes puts to shame the pride of documentary history. +Providence which saved my MS. from the Congo rapids brought it to +the knowledge of a helpful soul far out on the open sea. It +would be on my part the greatest ingratitude ever to forget the +sallow, sunken face and the deep-set, dark eyes of the young +Cambridge man (he was a "passenger for his health" on board the +good ship Torrens outward bound to Australia) who was the first +reader of "Almayer's Folly"--the very first reader I ever had. + +"Would it bore you very much in reading a MS. in a handwriting +like mine?" I asked him one evening, on a sudden impulse at the +end of a longish conversation whose subject was Gibbon's History. + +Jacques (that was his name) was sitting in my cabin one stormy +dog-watch below, after bring me a book to read from his own +travelling store. + +"Not at all," he answered, with his courteous intonation and a +faint smile. As I pulled a drawer open his suddenly aroused +curiosity gave him a watchful expression. I wonder what he +expected to see. A poem, maybe. All that's beyond guessing now. + +He was not a cold, but a calm man, still more subdued by +disease--a man of few words and of an unassuming modesty in +general intercourse, but with something uncommon in the whole of +his person which set him apart from the undistinguished lot of +our sixty passengers. His eyes had a thoughtful, introspective +look. In his attractive reserved manner and in a veiled +sympathetic voice he asked: + +"What is this?" "It is a sort of tale," I answered, with an +effort. "It is not even finished yet. Nevertheless, I would +like to know what you think of it." He put the MS. in the +breast-pocket of his jacket; I remember perfectly his thin, brown +fingers folding it lengthwise. "I will read it to-morrow," he +remarked, seizing the door handle; and then watching the roll of +the ship for a propitious moment, he opened the door and was +gone. In the moment of his exit I heard the sustained booming of +the wind, the swish of the water on the decks of the Torrens, and +the subdued, as if distant, roar of the rising sea. I noted the +growing disquiet in the great restlessness of the ocean, and +responded professionally to it with the thought that at eight +o'clock, in another half hour or so at the farthest, the +topgallant sails would have to come off the ship. + +Next day, but this time in the first dog watch, Jacques entered +my cabin. He had a thick woollen muffler round his throat, and +the MS. was in his hand. He tendered it to me with a steady +look, but without a word. I took it in silence. He sat down on +the couch and still said nothing. I opened and shut a drawer +under my desk, on which a filled-up log-slate lay wide open in +its wooden frame waiting to be copied neatly into the sort of +book I was accustomed to write with care, the ship's log-book. I +turned my back squarely on the desk. And even then Jacques never +offered a word. "Well, what do you say?" I asked at last. "Is +it worth finishing?" This question expressed exactly the whole +of my thoughts. + +"Distinctly," he answered, in his sedate, veiled voice, and then +coughed a little. + +"Were you interested?" I inquired further, almost in a whisper. + +"Very much!" + +In a pause I went on meeting instinctively the heavy rolling of +the ship, and Jacques put his feet upon the couch. The curtain +of my bed-place swung to and fro as if it were a punkah, the +bulkhead lamp circled in its gimbals, and now and then the cabin +door rattled slightly in the gusts of wind. It was in latitude +40 south, and nearly in the longitude of Greenwich, as far as I +can remember, that these quiet rites of Almayer's and Nina's +resurrection were taking place. In the prolonged silence it +occurred to me that there was a good deal of retrospective +writing in the story as far as it went. Was it intelligible in +its action, I asked myself, as if already the story-teller were +being born into the body of a seaman. But I heard on deck the +whistle of the officer of the watch and remained on the alert to +catch the order that was to follow this call to attention. It +reached me as a faint, fierce shout to "Square the yards." "Aha!" +I thought to myself, "a westerly blow coming on." Then I turned +to my very first reader, who, alas! was not to live long enough +to know the end of the tale. + +"Now let me ask you one more thing: is the story quite clear to +you as it stands?" + +He raised his dark, gentle eyes to my face and seemed surprised. + +"Yes! Perfectly." + +This was all I was to hear from his lips concerning the merits of +"Almayer's Folly." We never spoke together of the book again. A +long period of bad weather set in and I had no thoughts left but +for my duties, while poor Jacques caught a fatal cold and had to +keep close in his cabin. When we arrived in Adelaide the first +reader of my prose went at once up-country, and died rather +suddenly in the end, either in Australia or it may be on the +passage while going home through the Suez Canal. I am not sure +which it was now, and I do not think I ever heard precisely; +though I made inquiries about him from some of our return +passengers who, wandering about to "see the country" during the +ship's stay in port, had come upon him here and there. At last +we sailed, homeward bound, and still not one line was added to +the careless scrawl of the many pages which poor Jacques had had +the patience to read with the very shadows of Eternity gathering +already in the hollows of his kind, steadfast eyes. + +The purpose instilled into me by his simple and final +"Distinctly" remained dormant, yet alive to await its +opportunity. I dare say I am compelled--unconsciously +compelled--now to write volume after volume, as in past years I +was compelled to go to sea voyage after voyage. Leaves must +follow upon one an other as leagues used to follow in the days +gone by, on and on to the appointed end, which, being Truth +itself, is One--one for all men and for all occupations. + +I do not know which of the two impulses has appeared more +mysterious and more wonderful to me. Still, in writing, as in +going to sea, I had to wait my opportunity. Let me confess here +that I was never one of those wonderful fellows that would go +afloat in a wash-tub for the sake of the fun, and if I may pride +myself upon my consistency, it was ever just the same with my +writing. Some men, I have heard, write in railway carriages, and +could do it, perhaps, sitting crossed-legged on a clothes-line; +but I must confess that my sybaritic disposition will not consent +to write without something at least resembling a chair. Line by +line, rather than page by page, was the growth of "Almayer's +Folly." + +And so it happened that I very nearly lost the MS., advanced now +to the first words of the ninth chapter, in the Friedrichstrasse +Poland, or more precisely to Ukraine. On an early, sleepy +morning changing trains in a hurry I left my Gladstone bag in a +refreshment-room. A worthy and intelligent Koffertrager rescued +it. Yet in my anxiety I was not thinking of the MS., but of all +the other things that were packed in the bag. + +In Warsaw, where I spent two days, those wandering pages were +never exposed to the light, except once to candle-light, while +the bag lay open on the chair. I was dressing hurriedly to dine +at a sporting club. A friend of my childhood (he had been in the +Diplomatic Service, but had turned to growing wheat on paternal +acres, and we had not seen each other for over twenty years) was +sitting on the hotel sofa waiting to carry me off there. + +"You might tell me something of your life while you are +dressing," he suggested, kindly. + +I do not think I told him much of my life story either then or +later. The talk of the select little party with which he made me +dine was extremely animated and embraced most subjects under +heaven, from big-game shooting in Africa to the last poem +published in a very modernist review, edited by the very young +and patronized by the highest society. But it never touched upon +"Almayer's Folly," and next morning, in uninterrupted obscurity, +this inseparable companion went on rolling with me in the +southeast direction toward the government of Kiev. + +At that time there was an eight hours' drive, if not more, from +the railway station to the country-house which was my +destination. + +"Dear boy" (these words were always written in English), so ran +the last letter from that house received in London--"Get yourself +driven to the only inn in the place, dine as well as you can, and +some time in the evening my own confidential servant, factotum +and majordomo, a Mr. V. S. (I warn you he is of noble +extraction), will present himself before you, reporting the +arrival of the small sledge which will take you here on the next +day. I send with him my heaviest fur, which I suppose with such +overcoats as you may have with you will keep you from freezing on +the road." + +Sure enough, as I was dining, served by a Hebrew waiter, in an +enormous barn-like bedroom with a freshly painted floor, the door +opened and, in a travelling costume of long boots, big sheepskin +cap, and a short coat girt with a leather belt, the Mr. V. S. (of +noble extraction), a man of about thirty-five, appeared with an +air of perplexity on his open and mustached countenance. I got +up from the table and greeted him in Polish, with, I hope, the +right shade of consideration demanded by his noble blood and his +confidential position. His face cleared up in a wonderful way. +It appeared that, notwithstanding my uncle's earnest assurances, +the good fellow had remained in doubt of our understanding each +other. He imagined I would talk to him in some foreign language. + +I was told that his last words on getting into the sledge to come +to meet me shaped an anxious exclamation: + +"Well! Well! Here I am going, but God only knows how I am to +make myself understood to our master's nephew." + +We understood each other very well from the first. He took +charge of me as if I were not quite of age. I had a delightful +boyish feeling of coming home from school when he muffled me up +next morning in an enormous bearskin travelling-coat and took his +seat protectively by my side. The sledge was a very small one, +and it looked utterly insignificant, almost like a toy behind the +four big bays harnessed two and two. We three, counting the +coachman, filled it completely. He was a young fellow with clear +blue eyes; the high collar of his livery fur coat framed his +cheery countenance and stood all round level with the top of his +head. + +"Now, Joseph," my companion addressed him, "do you think we shall +manage to get home before six?" His answer was that we would +surely, with God's help, and providing there were no heavy drifts +in the long stretch between certain villages whose names came +with an extremely familiar sound to my ears. He turned out an +excellent coachman, with an instinct for keeping the road among +the snow-covered fields and a natural gift of getting the best +out of his horses. + +"He is the son of that Joseph that I suppose the Captain +remembers. He who used to drive the Captain's late grandmother +of holy memory," remarked V. S., busy tucking fur rugs about my +feet. + +I remembered perfectly the trusty Joseph who used to drive my +grandmother. Why! he it was who let me hold the reins for the +first time in my life and allowed me to play with the great +four-in-hand whip outside the doors of the coach-house. + +"What became of him?" I asked. "He is no longer serving, I +suppose." + +"He served our master," was the reply. "But he died of cholera +ten years ago now--that great epidemic that we had. And his wife +died at the same time--the whole houseful of them, and this is +the only boy that was left." + +The MS. of "Almayer's Folly" was reposing in the bag under our +feet. + +I saw again the sun setting on the plains as I saw it in the +travels of my childhood. It set, clear and red, dipping into the +snow in full view as if it were setting on the sea. It was +twenty-three years since I had seen the sun set over that land; +and we drove on in the darkness which fell swiftly upon the livid +expanse of snows till, out of the waste of a white earth joining +a bestarred sky, surged up black shapes, the clumps of trees +about a village of the Ukrainian plain. A cottage or two glided +by, a low interminable wall, and then, glimmering and winking +through a screen of fir-trees, the lights of the master's house. + +That very evening the wandering MS. of "Almayer's Folly" was +unpacked and unostentatiously laid on the writing-table in my +room, the guest-room which had been, I was informed in an +affectionately careless tone, awaiting me for some fifteen years +or so. It attracted no attention from the affectionate presence +hovering round the son of the favourite sister. + +"You won't have many hours to yourself while you are staying with +me, brother," he said--this form of address borrowed from the +speech of our peasants being the usual expression of the highest +good humour in a moment of affectionate elation. "I shall be +always coming in for a chat." + +As a matter of fact, we had the whole house to chat in, and were +everlastingly intruding upon each other. I invaded the +retirement of his study where the principal feature was a +colossal silver inkstand presented to him on his fiftieth year by +a subscription of all his wards then living. He had been +guardian of many orphans of land-owning families from the three +southern provinces--ever since the year 1860. Some of them had +been my school fellows and playmates, but not one of them, girls +or boys, that I know of has ever written a novel. One or two +were older than myself--considerably older, too. One of them, a +visitor I remember in my early years, was the man who first put +me on horseback, and his four-horse bachelor turnout, his perfect +horsemanship and general skill in manly exercises, was one of my +earliest admirations. I seem to remember my mother looking on +from a colonnade in front of the dining-room windows as I was +lifted upon the pony, held, for all I know, by the very Joseph-- +the groom attached specially to my grandmother's service--who +died of cholera. It was certainly a young man in a dark-blue, +tailless coat and huge Cossack trousers, that being the livery of +the men about the stables. It must have been in 1864, but +reckoning by another mode of calculating time, it was certainly +in the year in which my mother obtained permission to travel +south and visit her family, from the exile into which she had +followed my father. For that, too, she had had to ask +permission, and I know that one of the conditions of that favour +was that she should be treated exactly as a condemned exile +herself. Yet a couple of years later, in memory of her eldest +brother, who had served in the Guards and dying early left hosts +of friends and a loved memory in the great world of St. +Petersburg, some influential personages procured for her this +permission--it was officially called the "Highest Grace"--of a +four months' leave from exile. + +This is also the year in which I first begin to remember my +mother with more distinctness than a mere loving, wide-browed, +silent, protecting presence, whose eyes had a sort of commanding +sweetness; and I also remember the great gathering of all the +relations from near and far, and the gray heads of the family +friends paying her the homage of respect and love in the house of +her favourite brother, who, a few years later, was to take the +place for me of both my parents. + +I did not understand the tragic significance of it all at the +time, though, indeed, I remember that doctors also came. There +were no signs of invalidism about her--but I think that already +they had pronounced her doom unless perhaps the change to a +southern climate could re-establish her declining strength. For +me it seems the very happiest period of my existence. There was +my cousin, a delightful, quick-tempered little girl, some months +younger than myself, whose life, lovingly watched over as if she +were a royal princess, came to an end with her fifteenth year. +There were other children, too, many of whom are dead now, and +not a few whose very names I have forgotten. Over all this hung +the oppressive shadow of the great Russian empire--the shadow +lowering with the darkness of a new-born national hatred fostered +by the Moscow school of journalists against the Poles after the +ill-omened rising of 1863. + +This is a far cry back from the MS. of "Almayer's Folly," but the +public record of these formative impressions is not the whim of +an uneasy egotism. These, too, are things human, already distant +in their appeal. It is meet that something more should be left +for the novelist's children than the colours and figures of his +own hard-won creation. That which in their grown-up years may +appear to the world about them as the most enigmatic side of +their natures and perhaps must remain forever obscure even to +themselves, will be their unconscious response to the still voice +of that inexorable past from which his work of fiction and their +personalities are remotely derived. + +Only in men's imagination does every truth find an effective and +undeniable existence. Imagination, not invention, is the supreme +master of art as of life. An imaginative and exact rendering of +authentic memories may serve worthily that spirit of piety toward +all things human which sanctions the conceptions of a writer of +tales, and the emotions of the man reviewing his own experience. + + +II + +As I have said, I was unpacking my luggage after a journey from +London into Ukraine. The MS. of "Almayer's Folly"--my companion +already for some three years or more, and then in the ninth +chapter of its age--was deposited unostentatiously on the +writing-table placed between two windows. It didn't occur to me +to put it away in the drawer the table was fitted with, but my +eye was attracted by the good form of the same drawer's brass +handles. Two candelabra, with four candles each, lighted up +festally the room which had waited so many years for the +wandering nephew. The blinds were down. + +Within five hundred yards of the chair on which I sat stood the +first peasant hut of the village--part of my maternal +grandfather's estate, the only part remaining in the possession +of a member of the family; and beyond the village in the +limitless blackness of a winter's night there lay the great +unfenced fields--not a flat and severe plain, but a kindly bread- +giving land of low rounded ridges, all white now, with the black +patches of timber nestling in the hollows. The road by which I +had come ran through the village with a turn just outside the +gates closing the short drive. Somebody was abroad on the deep +snow track; a quick tinkle of bells stole gradually into the +stillness of the room like a tuneful whisper. + +My unpacking had been watched over by the servant who had come to +help me, and, for the most part, had been standing attentive but +unnecessary at the door of the room. I did not want him in the +least, but I did not like to tell him to go away. He was a young +fellow, certainly more than ten years younger than myself; I had +not been--I won't say in that place, but within sixty miles of +it, ever since the year '67; yet his guileless physiognomy of the +open peasant type seemed strangely familiar. It was quite +possible that he might have been a descendant, a son, or even a +grandson, of the servants whose friendly faces had been familiar +to me in my early childhood. As a matter of fact he had no such +claim on my consideration. He was the product of some village +near by and was there on his promotion, having learned the +service in one or two houses as pantry boy. I know this because +I asked the worthy V---- next day. I might well have spared the +question. I discovered before long that all the faces about the +house and all the faces in the village: the grave faces with long +mustaches of the heads of families, the downy faces of the young +men, the faces of the little fair-haired children, the handsome, +tanned, wide-browed faces of the mothers seen at the doors of the +huts, were as familiar to me as though I had known them all from +childhood and my childhood were a matter of the day before +yesterday. + +The tinkle of the traveller's bells, after growing louder, had +faded away quickly, and the tumult of barking dogs in the village +had calmed down at last. My uncle, lounging in the corner of a +small couch, smoked his long Turkish chibouk in silence. + +"This is an extremely nice writing-table you have got for my +room," I remarked. + +"It is really your property," he said, keeping his eyes on me, +with an interested and wistful expression, as he had done ever +since I had entered the house. "Forty years ago your mother used +to write at this very table. In our house in Oratow, it stood in +the little sitting-room which, by a tacit arrangement, was given +up to the girls--I mean to your mother and her sister who died so +young. It was a present to them jointly from your uncle Nicholas +B. when your mother was seventeen and your aunt two years +younger. She was a very dear, delightful girl, that aunt of +yours, of whom I suppose you know nothing more than the name. +She did not shine so much by personal beauty and a cultivated +mind in which your mother was far superior. It was her good +sense, the admirable sweetness of her nature, her exceptional +facility and ease in daily relations, that endeared her to every +body. Her death was a terrible grief and a serious moral loss +for us all. Had she lived she would have brought the greatest +blessings to the house it would have been her lot to enter, as +wife, mother, and mistress of a household. She would have +created round herself an atmosphere of peace and content which +only those who can love unselfishly are able to evoke. Your +mother--of far greater beauty, exceptionally distinguished in +person, manner, and intellect--had a less easy disposition. +Being more brilliantly gifted, she also expected more from life. +At that trying time especially, we were greatly concerned about +her state. Suffering in her health from the shock of her +father's death (she was alone in the house with him when he died +suddenly), she was torn by the inward struggle between her love +for the man whom she was to marry in the end and her knowledge of +her dead father's declared objection to that match. Unable to +bring herself to disregard that cherished memory and that +judgment she had always respected and trusted, and, on the other +hand, feeling the impossibility to resist a sentiment so deep and +so true, she could not have been expected to preserve her mental +and moral balance. At war with herself, she could not give to +others that feeling of peace which was not her own. It was only +later, when united at last with the man of her choice, that she +developed those uncommon gifts of mind and heart which compelled +the respect and admiration even of our foes. Meeting with calm +fortitude the cruel trials of a life reflecting all the national +and social misfortunes of the community, she realized the highest +conceptions of duty as a wife, a mother, and a patriot, sharing +the exile of her husband and representing nobly the ideal of +Polish womanhood. Our uncle Nicholas was not a man very +accessible to feelings of affection. Apart from his worship for +Napoleon the Great, he loved really, I believe, only three people +in the world: his mother--your great-grandmother, whom you have +seen but cannot possibly remember; his brother, our father, in +whose house he lived for so many years; and of all of us, his +nephews and nieces grown up around him, your mother alone. The +modest, lovable qualities of the youngest sister he did not seem +able to see. It was I who felt most profoundly this unexpected +stroke of death falling upon the family less than a year after I +had become its head. It was terribly unexpected. Driving home +one wintry afternoon to keep me company in our empty house, where +I had to remain permanently administering the estate and at +tending to the complicated affairs--(the girls took it in turn +week and week about)--driving, as I said, from the house of the +Countess Tekla Potocka, where our invalid mother was staying then +to be near a doctor, they lost the road and got stuck in a snow +drift. She was alone with the coachman and old Valery, the +personal servant of our late father. Impatient of delay while +they were trying to dig themselves out, she jumped out of the +sledge and went to look for the road herself. All this happened +in '51, not ten miles from the house in which we are sitting now. + +The road was soon found, but snow had begun to fall thickly +again, and they were four more hours getting home. Both the men +took off their sheepskin lined greatcoats and used all their own +rugs to wrap her up against the cold, notwithstanding her +protests, positive orders, and even struggles, as Valery +afterward related to me. 'How could I,' he remonstrated with +her, 'go to meet the blessed soul of my late master if I let any +harm come to you while there's a spark of life left in my body?' +When they reached home at last the poor old man was stiff and +speechless from exposure, and the coachman was in not much better +plight, though he had the strength to drive round to the stables +himself. To my reproaches for venturing out at all in such +weather, she answered, characteristically, that she could not +bear the thought of abandoning me to my cheerless solitude. It +is incomprehensible how it was that she was allowed to start. I +suppose it had to be! She made light of the cough which came on +next day, but shortly afterward inflammation of the lungs set in, +and in three weeks she was no more! She was the first to be +taken away of the young generation under my care. Behold the +vanity of all hopes and fears! I was the most frail at birth of +all the children. For years I remained so delicate that my +parents had but little hope of bringing me up; and yet I have +survived five brothers and two sisters, and many of my +contemporaries; I have outlived my wife and daughter, too--and +from all those who have had some knowledge at least of these old +times you alone are left. It has been my lot to lay in an early +grave many honest hearts, many brilliant promises, many hopes +full of life." + +He got up briskly, sighed, and left me saying, "We will dine in +half an hour." + +Without moving, I listened to his quick steps resounding on the +waxed floor of the next room, traversing the anteroom lined with +bookshelves, where he paused to put his chibouk in the pipe-stand +before passing into the drawing-room (these were all en suite), +where he became inaudible on the thick carpet. But I heard the +door of his study-bedroom close. He was then sixty-two years old +and had been for a quarter of a century the wisest, the firmest, +the most indulgent of guardians, extending over me a paternal +care and affection, a moral support which I seemed to feel always +near me in the most distant parts of the earth. + +As to Mr. Nicholas B., sub-lieutenant of 1808, lieutenant of 1813 +in the French army, and for a short time Officier d'Ordonnance of +Marshal Marmont; afterward captain in the 2d Regiment of Mounted +Rifles in the Polish army--such as it existed up to 1830 in the +reduced kingdom established by the Congress of Vienna--I must say +that from all that more distant past, known to me traditionally +and a little de visu, and called out by the words of the man just +gone away, he remains the most incomplete figure. It is obvious +that I must have seen him in '64, for it is certain that he would +not have missed the opportunity of seeing my mother for what he +must have known would be the last time. From my early boyhood to +this day, if I try to call up his image, a sort of mist rises +before my eyes, mist in which I perceive vaguely only a neatly +brushed head of white hair (which is exceptional in the case of +the B. family, where it is the rule for men to go bald in a +becoming manner before thirty) and a thin, curved, dignified +nose, a feature in strict accordance with the physical tradition +of the B. family. But it is not by these fragmentary remains of +perishable mortality that he lives in my memory. I knew, at a +very early age, that my granduncle Nicholas B. was a Knight of +the Legion of Honour and that he had also the Polish Cross for +valour Virtuti Militari. The knowledge of these glorious facts +inspired in me an admiring veneration; yet it is not that +sentiment, strong as it was, which resumes for me the force and +the significance of his personality. It is over borne by another +and complex impression of awe, compassion, and horror. Mr. +Nicholas B. remains for me the unfortunate and miserable (but +heroic) being who once upon a time had eaten a dog. + +It is a good forty years since I heard the tale, and the effect +has not worn off yet. I believe this is the very first, say, +realistic, story I heard in my life; but all the same I don't +know why I should have been so frightfully impressed. Of course +I know what our village dogs look like--but still. . . . No! At +this very day, recalling the horror and compassion of my +childhood, I ask myself whether I am right in disclosing to a +cold and fastidious world that awful episode in the family +history. I ask myself--is it right?--especially as the B. family +had always been honourably known in a wide countryside for the +delicacy of their tastes in the matter of eating and drinking. +But upon the whole, and considering that this gastronomical +degradation overtaking a gallant young officer lies really at the +door of the Great Napoleon, I think that to cover it up by +silence would be an exaggeration of literary restraint. Let the +truth stand here. The responsibility rests with the Man of St. +Helena in view of his deplorable levity in the conduct of the +Russian campaign. It was during the memorable retreat from +Moscow that Mr. Nicholas B., in company of two brother +officers--as to whose morality and natural refinement I know +nothing--bagged a dog on the outskirts of a village and +subsequently devoured him. As far as I can remember the weapon +used was a cavalry sabre, and the issue of the sporting episode +was rather more of a matter of life and death than if it had been +an encounter with a tiger. A picket of Cossacks was sleeping in +that village lost in the depths of the great Lithuanian forest. +The three sportsmen had observed them from a hiding-place making +themselves very much at home among the huts just before the early +winter darkness set in at four o'clock. They had observed them +with disgust and, perhaps, with despair. Late in the night the +rash counsels of hunger overcame the dictates of prudence. +Crawling through the snow they crept up to the fence of dry +branches which generally encloses a village in that part of +Lithuania. What they expected to get and in what manner, and +whether this expectation was worth the risk, goodness only knows. + +However, these Cossack parties, in most cases wandering without +an officer, were known to guard themselves badly and often not at +all. In addition, the village lying at a great distance from the +line of French retreat, they could not suspect the presence of +stragglers from the Grand Army. The three officers had strayed +away in a blizzard from the main column and had been lost for +days in the woods, which explains sufficiently the terrible +straits to which they were reduced. Their plan was to try and +attract the attention of the peasants in that one of the huts +which was nearest to the enclosure; but as they were preparing to +venture into the very jaws of the lion, so to speak, a dog (it is +mighty strange that there was but one), a creature quite as +formidable under the circumstances as a lion, began to bark on +the other side of the fence. . . . + +At this stage of the narrative, which I heard many times (by +request) from the lips of Captain Nicholas B.'s sister-in-law, my +grandmother, I used to tremble with excitement. + +The dog barked. And if he had done no more than bark, three +officers of the Great Napoleon's army would have perished +honourably on the points of Cossacks' lances, or perchance +escaping the chase would have died decently of starvation. But +before they had time to think of running away that fatal and +revolting dog, being carried away by the excess of the zeal, +dashed out through a gap in the fence. He dashed out and died. +His head, I understand, was severed at one blow from his body. I +understand also that later on, within the gloomy solitudes of the +snow-laden woods, when, in a sheltering hollow, a fire had been +lit by the party, the condition of the quarry was discovered to +be distinctly unsatisfactory. It was not thin--on the contrary, +it seemed unhealthily obese; its skin showed bare patches of an +unpleasant character. However, they had not killed that dog for +the sake of the pelt. He was large. . . . He was eaten. . . . +The rest is silence. . . . + +A silence in which a small boy shudders and says firmly: + +"I could not have eaten that dog." + +And his grandmother remarks with a smile: + +"Perhaps you don't know what it is to be hungry." + +I have learned something of it since. Not that I have been +reduced to eat dog. I have fed on the emblematical animal, +which, in the language of the volatile Gauls, is called la vache +enragee; I have lived on ancient salt junk, I know the taste of +shark, of trepang, of snake, of nondescript dishes containing +things without a name--but of the Lithuanian village dog--never! +I wish it to be distinctly understood that it is not I, but my +granduncle Nicholas, of the Polish landed gentry, Chevalier de la +Legion d'Honneur, etc., who in his young days, had eaten the +Lithuanian dog. + +I wish he had not. The childish horror of the deed clings +absurdly to the grizzled man. I am perfectly helpless against +it. Still, if he really had to, let us charitably remember that +he had eaten him on active service, while bearing up bravely +against the greatest military disaster of modern history, and, in +a manner, for the sake of his country. He had eaten him to +appease his hunger, no doubt, but also for the sake of an +unappeasable and patriotic desire, in the glow of a great faith +that lives still, and in the pursuit of a great illusion kindled +like a false beacon by a great man to lead astray the effort of a +brave nation. + +Pro patria! + +Looked at in that light, it appears a sweet and decorous meal. + +And looked at in the same light, my own diet of la vache enragee +appears a fatuous and extravagant form of self-indulgence; for +why should I, the son of a land which such men as these have +turned up with their plowshares and bedewed with their blood, +undertake the pursuit of fantastic meals of salt junk and +hardtack upon the wide seas? On the kindest view it seems an +unanswerable question. Alas! I have the conviction that there +are men of unstained rectitude who are ready to murmur scornfully +the word desertion. Thus the taste of innocent adventure may be +made bitter to the palate. The part of the inexplicable should +be al lowed for in appraising the conduct of men in a world where +no explanation is final. No charge of faithlessness ought to be +lightly uttered. The appearances of this perishable life are +deceptive, like everything that falls under the judgment of our +imperfect senses. The inner voice may remain true enough in its +secret counsel. The fidelity to a special tradition may last +through the events of an unrelated existence, following +faithfully, too, the traced way of an inexplicable impulse. + +It would take too long to explain the intimate alliance of +contradictions in human nature which makes love itself wear at +times the desperate shape of betrayal. And perhaps there is no +possible explanation. Indulgence--as somebody said--is the most +intelligent of all the virtues. I venture to think that it is +one of the least common, if not the most uncommon of all. I +would not imply by this that men are foolish--or even most men. +Far from it. The barber and the priest, backed by the whole +opinion of the village, condemned justly the conduct of the +ingenious hidalgo, who, sallying forth from his native place, +broke the head of the muleteer, put to death a flock of +inoffensive sheep, and went through very doleful experiences in a +certain stable. God forbid that an unworthy churl should escape +merited censure by hanging on to the stirrup-leather of the +sublime caballero. His was a very noble, a very unselfish +fantasy, fit for nothing except to raise the envy of baser +mortals. But there is more than one aspect to the charm of that +exalted and dangerous figure. He, too, had his frailties. After +reading so many romances he desired naively to escape with his +very body from the intolerable reality of things. He wished to +meet, eye to eye, the valorous giant Brandabarbaran, Lord of +Arabia, whose armour is made of the skin of a dragon, and whose +shield, strapped to his arm, is the gate of a fortified city. +Oh, amiable and natural weakness! Oh, blessed simplicity of a +gentle heart without guile! Who would not succumb to such a +consoling temptation? Nevertheless, it was a form of +self-indulgence, and the ingenious hidalgo of La Mancha was not a +good citizen. The priest and the barber were not unreasonable in +their strictures. Without going so far as the old King +Louis-Philippe, who used to say in his exile, "The people are +never in fault"--one may admit that there must be some +righteousness in the assent of a whole village. Mad! Mad! He +who kept in pious meditation the ritual vigil-of-arms by the well +of an inn and knelt reverently to be knighted at daybreak by the +fat, sly rogue of a landlord has come very near perfection. He +rides forth, his head encircled by a halo--the patron saint of +all lives spoiled or saved by the irresistible grace of +imagination. But he was not a good citizen. + +Perhaps that and nothing else was meant by the well-remembered +exclamation of my tutor. + +It was in the jolly year 1873, the very last year in which I have +had a jolly holiday. There have been idle years afterward, jolly +enough in a way and not altogether without their lesson, but this +year of which I speak was the year of my last school-boy holiday. +There are other reasons why I should remember that year, but they +are too long to state formally in this place. Moreover, they +have nothing to do with that holiday. What has to do with the +holiday is that before the day on which the remark was made we +had seen Vienna, the Upper Danube, Munich, the Falls of the +Rhine, the Lake of Constance,--in fact, it was a memorable +holiday of travel. Of late we had been tramping slowly up the +Valley of the Reuss. It was a delightful time. It was much more +like a stroll than a tramp. Landing from a Lake of Lucerne +steamer in Fluelen, we found ourselves at the end of the second +day, with the dusk overtaking our leisurely footsteps, a little +way beyond Hospenthal. This is not the day on which the remark +was made: in the shadows of the deep valley and with the +habitations of men left some way behind, our thoughts ran not +upon the ethics of conduct, but upon the simpler human problem of +shelter and food. There did not seem anything of the kind in +sight, and we were thinking of turning back when suddenly, at a +bend of the road, we came upon a building, ghostly in the +twilight. + +At that time the work on the St. Gothard Tunnel was going on, and +that magnificent enterprise of burrowing was directly responsible +for the unexpected building, standing all alone upon the very +roots of the mountains. It was long, though not big at all; it +was low; it was built of boards, without ornamentation, in +barrack-hut style, with the white window-frames quite flush with +the yellow face of its plain front. And yet it was a hotel; it +had even a name, which I have forgotten. But there was no gold +laced doorkeeper at its humble door. A plain but vigorous +servant-girl answered our inquiries, then a man and woman who +owned the place appeared. It was clear that no travellers were +expected, or perhaps even desired, in this strange hostelry, +which in its severe style resembled the house which sur mounts +the unseaworthy-looking hulls of the toy Noah's Arks, the +universal possession of European childhood. However, its roof +was not hinged and it was not full to the brim of slab-sided and +painted animals of wood. Even the live tourist animal was +nowhere in evidence. We had something to eat in a long, narrow +room at one end of a long, narrow table, which, to my tired +perception and to my sleepy eyes, seemed as if it would tilt up +like a see saw plank, since there was no one at the other end to +balance it against our two dusty and travel-stained figures. +Then we hastened up stairs to bed in a room smelling of pine +planks, and I was fast asleep before my head touched the pillow. + +In the morning my tutor (he was a student of the Cracow +University) woke me up early, and as we were dressing remarked: +"There seems to be a lot of people staying in this hotel. I have +heard a noise of talking up till eleven o'clock." This statement +surprised me; I had heard no noise whatever, having slept like a +top. + +We went down-stairs into the long and narrow dining-room with its +long and narrow table. There were two rows of plates on it. At +one of the many curtained windows stood a tall, bony man with a +bald head set off by a bunch of black hair above each ear, and +with a long, black beard. He glanced up from the paper he was +reading and seemed genuinely astonished at our intrusion. By and +by more men came in. Not one of them looked like a tourist. Not +a single woman appeared. These men seemed to know each other +with some intimacy, but I cannot say they were a very talkative +lot. The bald-headed man sat down gravely at the head of the +table. It all had the air of a family party. By and by, from +one of the vigorous servant-girls in national costume, we +discovered that the place was really a boarding house for some +English engineers engaged at the works of the St. Gothard Tunnel; +and I could listen my fill to the sounds of the English language, +as far as it is used at a breakfast-table by men who do not +believe in wasting many words on the mere amenities of life. + +This was my first contact with British mankind apart from the +tourist kind seen in the hotels of Zurich and Lucerne--the kind +which has no real existence in a workaday world. I know now that +the bald-headed man spoke with a strong Scotch accent. I have +met many of his kind ashore and afloat. The second engineer of +the steamer Mavis, for instance, ought to have been his twin +brother. I cannot help thinking that he really was, though for +some reason of his own he assured me that he never had a twin +brother. Anyway, the deliberate, bald-headed Scot with the +coal-black beard appeared to my boyish eyes a very romantic and +mysterious person. + +We slipped out unnoticed. Our mapped-out route led over the +Furca Pass toward the Rhone Glacier, with the further intention +of following down the trend of the Hasli Valley. The sun was +already declining when we found ourselves on the top of the pass, +and the remark alluded to was presently uttered. + +We sat down by the side of the road to continue the argument +begun half a mile or so before. I am certain it was an argument, +because I remember perfectly how my tutor argued and how without +the power of reply I listened, with my eyes fixed obstinately on +the ground. A stir on the road made me look up--and then I saw +my unforgettable Englishman. There are acquaintances of later +years, familiars, shipmates, whom I remember less clearly. He +marched rapidly toward the east (attended by a hang-dog Swiss +guide), with the mien of an ardent and fearless traveller. He +was clad in a knickerbocker suit, but as at the same time he wore +short socks under his laced boots, for reasons which, whether +hygienic or conscientious, were surely imaginative, his calves, +exposed to the public gaze and to the tonic air of high +altitudes, dazzled the beholder by the splendour of their +marble-like condition and their rich tone of young ivory. He was +the leader of a small caravan. The light of a headlong, exalted +satisfaction with the world of men and the scenery of mountains +illumined his clean-cut, very red face, his short, silver-white +whiskers, his innocently eager and triumphant eyes. In passing +he cast a glance of kindly curiosity and a friendly gleam of big, +sound, shiny teeth toward the man and the boy sitting like dusty +tramps by the roadside, with a modest knapsack lying at their +feet. His white calves twinkled sturdily, the uncouth Swiss +guide with a surly mouth stalked like an unwilling bear at his +elbow; a small train of three mules followed in single file the +lead of this inspiring enthusiast. Two ladies rode past, one +behind the other, but from the way they sat I saw only their +calm, uniform backs, and the long ends of blue veils hanging +behind far down over their identical hat-brims. His two +daughters, surely. An industrious luggage-mule, with unstarched +ears and guarded by a slouching, sallow driver, brought up the +rear. My tutor, after pausing for a look and a faint smile, +resumed his earnest argument. + +I tell you it was a memorable year! One does not meet such an +Englishman twice in a lifetime. Was he in the mystic ordering of +common events the ambassador of my future, sent out to turn the +scale at a critical moment on the top of an Alpine pass, with the +peaks of the Bernese Oberland for mute and solemn witnesses? His +glance, his smile, the unextinguishable and comic ardour of his +striving-forward appearance, helped me to pull myself together. +It must be stated that on that day and in the exhilarating +atmosphere of that elevated spot I had been feeling utterly +crushed. It was the year in which I had first spoken aloud of my +desire to go to sea. At first like those sounds that, ranging +outside the scale to which men's ears are attuned, remain +inaudible to our sense of hearing, this declaration passed +unperceived. It was as if it had not been. Later on, by trying +various tones, I managed to arouse here and there a surprised +momentary attention--the "What was that funny noise?"--sort of +inquiry. Later on it was: "Did you hear what that boy said? +What an extraordinary outbreak!" Presently a wave of scandalized +astonishment (it could not have been greater if I had announced +the intention of entering a Carthusian monastery) ebbing out of +the educational and academical town of Cracow spread itself over +several provinces. It spread itself shallow but far-reaching. +It stirred up a mass of remonstrance, indignation, pitying +wonder, bitter irony, and downright chaff. I could hardly +breathe under its weight, and certainly had no words for an +answer. People wondered what Mr. T. B. would do now with his +worrying nephew and, I dare say, hoped kindly that he would make +short work of my nonsense. + +What he did was to come down all the way from Ukraine to have it +out with me and to judge by himself, unprejudiced, impartial, and +just, taking his stand on the ground of wisdom and affection. As +far as is possible for a boy whose power of expression is still +unformed I opened the secret of my thoughts to him, and he in +return allowed me a glimpse into his mind and heart; the first +glimpse of an inexhaustible and noble treasure of clear thought +and warm feeling, which through life was to be mine to draw upon +with a never-deceived love and confidence. Practically, after +several exhaustive conversations, he concluded that he would not +have me later on reproach him for having spoiled my life by an +unconditional opposition. But I must take time for serious +reflection. And I must think not only of myself but of others; +weigh the claims of affection and conscience against my own +sincerity of purpose. "Think well what it all means in the +larger issues--my boy," he exhorted me, finally, with special +friendliness. "And meantime try to get the best place you can at +the yearly examinations." + +The scholastic year came to an end. I took a fairly good place +at the exams, which for me (for certain reasons) happened to be a +more difficult task than for other boys. In that respect I could +enter with a good conscience upon that holiday which was like a +long visit pour prendre conge of the mainland of old Europe I was +to see so little of for the next four-and-twenty years. Such, +however, was not the avowed purpose of that tour. It was rather, +I suspect, planned in order to distract and occupy my thoughts in +other directions. Nothing had been said for months of my going +to sea. But my attachment to my young tutor and his influence +over me were so well known that he must have received a +confidential mission to talk me out of my romantic folly. It was +an excellently appropriate arrangement, as neither he nor I had +ever had a single glimpse of the sea in our lives. That was to +come by and by for both of us in Venice, from the outer shore of +Lido. Meantime he had taken his mission to heart so well that I +began to feel crushed before we reached Zurich. He argued in +railway trains, in lake steamboats, he had argued away for me the +obligatory sunrise on the Righi, by Jove! Of his devotion to his +unworthy pupil there can be no doubt. He had proved it already +by two years of unremitting and arduous care. I could not hate +him. But he had been crushing me slowly, and when he started to +argue on the top of the Furca Pass he was perhaps nearer a +success than either he or I imagined. I listened to him in +despairing silence, feeling that ghostly, unrealized, and desired +sea of my dreams escape from the unnerved grip of my will. + +The enthusiastic old Englishman had passed--and the argument went +on. What reward could I expect from such a life at the end of my +years, either in ambition, honour, or conscience? An +unanswerable question. But I felt no longer crushed. Then our +eyes met and a genuine emotion was visible in his as well as in +mine. The end came all at once. He picked up the knapsack +suddenly and got onto his feet. + +"You are an incorrigible, hopeless Don Quixote. That's what you +are." + +I was surprised. I was only fifteen and did not know what he +meant exactly. But I felt vaguely flattered at the name of the +immortal knight turning up in connection with my own folly, as +some people would call it to my face. Alas! I don't think there +was anything to be proud of. Mine was not the stuff of +protectors of forlorn damsels, the redressers of this world's +wrong are made of; and my tutor was the man to know that best. +Therein, in his indignation, he was superior to the barber and +the priest when he flung at me an honoured name like a reproach. + +I walked behind him for full five minutes; then without looking +back he stopped. The shadows of distant peaks were lengthening +over the Furca Pass. When I came up to him he turned to me and +in full view of the Finster Aarhorn, with his band of giant +brothers rearing their monstrous heads against a brilliant sky, +put his hand on my shoulder affectionately. + +"Well! That's enough. We will have no more of it." + +And indeed there was no more question of my mysterious vocation +between us. There was to be no more question of it at all, no +where or with any one. We began the descent of the Furca Pass +conversing merrily. + +Eleven years later, month for month, I stood on Tower Hill on the +steps of the St. Katherine's Dockhouse, a master in the British +Merchant Service. But the man who put his hand on my shoulder at +the top of the Furca Pass was no longer living. + +That very year of our travels he took his degree of the +Philosophical Faculty--and only then his true vocation declared +itself. Obedient to the call, he entered at once upon the +four-year course of the Medical Schools. A day came when, on the +deck of a ship moored in Calcutta, I opened a letter telling me +of the end of an enviable existence. He had made for himself a +practice in some obscure little town of Austrian Galicia. And +the letter went on to tell me how all the bereaved poor of the +district, Christians and Jews alike, had mobbed the good doctor's +coffin with sobs and lamentations at the very gate of the +cemetery. + +How short his years and how clear his vision! What greater +reward in ambition, honour, and conscience could he have hoped to +win for himself when, on the top of the Furca Pass, he bade me +look well to the end of my opening life? + + +III + +The devouring in a dismal forest of a luckless Lithuanian dog by +my granduncle Nicholas B. in company of two other military and +famished scarecrows, symbolized, to my childish imagination, the +whole horror of the retreat from Moscow, and the immorality of a +conqueror's ambition. An extreme distaste for that objectionable +episode has tinged the views I hold as to the character and +achievements of Napoleon the Great. I need not say that these +are unfavourable. It was morally reprehensible for that great +captain to induce a simple-minded Polish gentleman to eat dog by +raising in his breast a false hope of national independence. It +has been the fate of that credulous nation to starve for upward +of a hundred years on a diet of false hopes and--well--dog. It +is, when one thinks of it, a singularly poisonous regimen. Some +pride in the national constitution which has survived a long +course of such dishes is really excusable. + +But enough of generalizing. Returning to particulars, Mr. +Nicholas B. confided to his sister-in-law (my grandmother) in his +misanthropically laconic manner that this supper in the woods had +been nearly "the death of him." This is not surprising. What +surprises me is that the story was ever heard of; for granduncle +Nicholas differed in this from the generality of military men of +Napoleon's time (and perhaps of all time) that he did not like to +talk of his campaigns, which began at Friedland and ended some +where in the neighbourhood of Bar-le-Duc. His admiration of the +great Emperor was unreserved in everything but expression. Like +the religion of earnest men, it was too profound a sentiment to +be displayed before a world of little faith. Apart from that he +seemed as completely devoid of military anecdotes as though he +had hardly ever seen a soldier in his life. Proud of his +decorations earned before he was twenty-five, he refused to wear +the ribbons at the buttonhole in the manner practised to this day +in Europe and even was unwilling to display the insignia on +festive occasions, as though he wished to conceal them in the +fear of appearing boastful. + +"It is enough that I have them," he used to mutter. In the +course of thirty years they were seen on his breast only +twice--at an auspicious marriage in the family and at the funeral +of an old friend. That the wedding which was thus honoured was +not the wedding of my mother I learned only late in life, too +late to bear a grudge against Mr. Nicholas B., who made amends at +my birth by a long letter of congratulation containing the +following prophecy: "He will see better times." Even in his +embittered heart there lived a hope. But he was not a true +prophet. + +He was a man of strange contradictions. Living for many years in +his brother's house, the home of many children, a house full of +life, of animation, noisy with a constant coming and going of +many guests, he kept his habits of solitude and silence. +Considered as obstinately secretive in all his purposes, he was +in reality the victim of a most painful irresolution in all +matters of civil life. Under his taciturn, phlegmatic behaviour +was hidden a faculty of short-lived passionate anger. I suspect +he had no talent for narrative; but it seemed to afford him +sombre satisfaction to declare that he was the last man to ride +over the bridge of the river Elster after the battle of Leipsic. +Lest some construction favourable to his valour should be put on +the fact he condescended to explain how it came to pass. It +seems that shortly after the retreat began he was sent back to +the town where some divisions of the French army (and among them +the Polish corps of Prince Joseph Poniatowski), jammed hopelessly +in the streets, were being simply exterminated by the troops of +the Allied Powers. When asked what it was like in there, Mr. +Nicholas B. muttered only the word "Shambles." Having delivered +his message to the Prince he hastened away at once to render an +account of his mission to the superior who had sent him. By that +time the advance of the enemy had enveloped the town, and he was +shot at from houses and chased all the way to the river-bank by a +disorderly mob of Austrian Dragoons and Prussian Hussars. The +bridge had been mined early in the morning, and his opinion was +that the sight of the horsemen converging from many sides in the +pursuit of his person alarmed the officer in command of the +sappers and caused the premature firing of the charges. He had +not gone more than two hundred yards on the other side when he +heard the sound of the fatal explosions. Mr. Nicholas B. +concluded his bald narrative with the word "Imbecile," uttered +with the utmost deliberation. It testified to his indignation at +the loss of so many thousands of lives. But his phlegmatic +physiognomy lighted up when he spoke of his only wound, with +something resembling satisfaction. You will see that there was +some reason for it when you learn that he was wounded in the +heel. "Like his Majesty the Emperor Napoleon himself," he +reminded his hearers, with assumed indifference. There can be no +doubt that the indifference was assumed, if one thinks what a +very distinguished sort of wound it was. In all the history of +warfare there are, I believe, only three warriors publicly known +to have been wounded in the heel--Achilles and Napoleon--demigods +indeed--to whom the familial piety of an unworthy descendant adds +the name of the simple mortal, Nicholas B. + +The Hundred Days found Mr. Nicholas B. staying with a distant +relative of ours, owner of a small estate in Galicia. How he got +there across the breadth of an armed Europe, and after what +adventures, I am afraid will never be known now. All his papers +were destroyed shortly before his death; but if there was among +them, as he affirmed, a concise record of his life, then I am +pretty sure it did not take up more than a half sheet of foolscap +or so. This relative of ours happened to be an Austrian officer +who had left the service after the battle of Austerlitz. Unlike +Mr. Nicholas B., who concealed his decorations, he liked to +display his honourable discharge in which he was mentioned as un +schreckbar (fearless) before the enemy. No conjunction could +seem more unpromising, yet it stands in the family tradition that +these two got on very well together in their rural solitude. + +When asked whether he had not been sorely tempted during the +Hundred Days to make his way again to France and join the service +of his beloved Emperor, Mr. Nicholas B. used to mutter: "No +money. No horse. Too far to walk." + +The fall of Napoleon and the ruin of national hopes affected +adversely the character of Mr. Nicholas B. He shrank from +returning to his province. But for that there was also another +reason. Mr. Nicholas B. and his brother--my maternal grand +father--had lost their father early, while they were quite +children. Their mother, young still and left very well off, +married again a man of great charm and of an amiable disposition, +but without a penny. He turned out an affectionate and careful +stepfather; it was unfortunate, though, that while directing the +boys' education and forming their character by wise counsel, he +did his best to get hold of the fortune by buying and selling +land in his own name and investing capital in such a manner as to +cover up the traces of the real ownership. It seems that such +practices can be successful if one is charming enough to dazzle +one's own wife permanently, and brave enough to defy the vain +terrors of public opinion. The critical time came when the elder +of the boys on attaining his majority, in the year 1811, asked +for the accounts and some part at least of the inheritance to +begin life upon. It was then that the stepfather declared with +calm finality that there were no accounts to render and no +property to inherit. The whole fortune was his very own. He was +very good-natured about the young man's misapprehension of the +true state of affairs, but, of course, felt obliged to maintain +his position firmly. Old friends came and went busily, voluntary +mediators appeared travelling on most horrible roads from the +most distant corners of the three provinces; and the Marshal of +the Nobility (ex-officio guardian of all well-born orphans) +called a meeting of landowners to "ascertain in a friendly way +how the misunderstanding between X and his stepsons had arisen +and devise proper measures to remove the same." A deputation to +that effect visited X, who treated them to excellent wines, but +absolutely refused his ear to their remonstrances. As to the +proposals for arbitration he simply laughed at them; yet the +whole province must have been aware that fourteen years before, +when he married the widow, all his visible fortune consisted +(apart from his social qualities) in a smart four-horse turnout +with two servants, with whom he went about visiting from house to +house; and as to any funds he might have possessed at that time +their existence could only be inferred from the fact that he was +very punctual in settling his modest losses at cards. But by the +magic power of stubborn and constant assertion, there were found +presently, here and there, people who mumbled that surely "there +must be some thing in it." However, on his next name-day (which +he used to celebrate by a great three days' shooting party), of +all the invited crowd only two guests turned up, distant +neighbours of no importance; one notoriously a fool, and the +other a very pious and honest person, but such a passionate lover +of the gun that on his own confession he could not have refused +an invitation to a shooting party from the devil himself. X met +this manifestation of public opinion with the serenity of an +unstained conscience. He refused to be crushed. Yet he must +have been a man of deep feeling, because, when his wife took +openly the part of her children, he lost his beautiful +tranquillity, proclaimed himself heartbroken, and drove her out +of the house, neglecting in his grief to give her enough time to +pack her trunks. + +This was the beginning of a lawsuit, an abominable marvel of +chicane, which by the use of every legal subterfuge was made to +last for many years. It was also the occasion for a display of +much kindness and sympathy. All the neighbouring houses flew +open for the reception of the homeless. Neither legal aid nor +material assistance in the prosecution of the suit was ever +wanting. X, on his side, went about shedding tears publicly over +his stepchildren's ingratitude and his wife's blind infatuation; +but as at the same time he displayed great cleverness in the art +of concealing material documents (he was even suspected of having +burned a lot of historically interesting family papers) this +scandalous litigation had to be ended by a compromise lest worse +should befall. It was settled finally by a surrender, out of the +disputed estate, in full satisfaction of all claims, of two +villages with the names of which I do not intend to trouble my +readers. After this lame and impotent conclusion neither the +wife nor the stepsons had anything to say to the man who had +presented the world with such a successful example of self-help +based on character, determination, and industry; and my +great-grandmother, her health completely broken down, died a +couple of years later in Carlsbad. Legally secured by a decree +in the possession of his plunder, X regained his wonted serenity, +and went on living in the neighbourhood in a comfortable style +and in apparent peace of mind. His big shoots were fairly well +attended again. He was never tired of assuring people that he +bore no grudge for what was past; he protested loudly of his +constant affection for his wife and stepchildren. It was true, +he said, that they had tried to strip him as naked as a Turkish +saint in the decline of his days; and because he had defended +himself from spoliation, as anybody else in his place would have +done, they had abandoned him now to the horrors of a solitary old +age. Nevertheless, his love for them survived these cruel blows. + +And there might have been some truth in his protestations. Very +soon he began to make overtures of friendship to his eldest +stepson, my maternal grandfather; and when these were +peremptorily rejected he went on renewing them again and again +with characteristic obstinacy. For years he persisted in his +efforts at reconciliation, promising my grandfather to execute a +will in his favour if he only would be friends again to the +extent of calling now and then (it was fairly close neighbourhood +for these parts, forty miles or so), or even of putting in an +appearance for the great shoot on the name-day. My grandfather +was an ardent lover of every sport. His temperament was as free +from hardness and animosity as can be imagined. Pupil of the +liberal-minded Benedictines who directed the only public school +of some standing then in the south, he had also read deeply the +authors of the eighteenth century. In him Christian charity was +joined to a philosophical indulgence for the failings of human +nature. But the memory of those miserably anxious early years, +his young man's years robbed of all generous illusions by the +cynicism of the sordid lawsuit, stood in the way of forgiveness. +He never succumbed to the fascination of the great shoot; and X, +his heart set to the last on reconciliation, with the draft of +the will ready for signature kept by his bedside, died intestate. + +The fortune thus acquired and augmented by a wise and careful +management passed to some distant relatives whom he had never +seen and who even did not bear his name. + +Meantime the blessing of general peace descended upon Europe. +Mr. Nicholas B., bidding good-bye to his hospitable relative, +the "fearless" Austrian officer, departed from Galicia, and +without going near his native place, where the odious lawsuit was +still going on, proceeded straight to Warsaw and entered the army +of the newly constituted Polish kingdom under the sceptre of +Alexander I, Autocrat of all the Russias. + +This kingdom, created by the Vienna Congress as an acknowledgment +to a nation of its former independent existence, included only +the central provinces of the old Polish patrimony. A brother of +the Emperor, the Grand Duke Constantine (Pavlovitch), its Viceroy +and Commander-in-Chief, married morganatically to a Polish lady +to whom he was fiercely attached, extended this affection to what +he called "My Poles" in a capricious and savage manner. Sallow +in complexion, with a Tartar physiognomy and fierce little eyes, +he walked with his fists clenched, his body bent forward, darting +suspicious glances from under an enormous cocked hat. His +intelligence was limited, and his sanity itself was doubtful. +The hereditary taint expressed itself, in his case, not by mystic +leanings as in his two brothers, Alexander and Nicholas (in their +various ways, for one was mystically liberal and the other +mystically autocratic), but by the fury of an uncontrollable +temper which generally broke out in disgusting abuse on the +parade ground. He was a passionate militarist and an amazing +drill-master. He treated his Polish army as a spoiled child +treats a favourite toy, except that he did not take it to bed +with him at night. It was not small enough for that. But he +played with it all day and every day, delighting in the variety +of pretty uniforms and in the fun of incessant drilling. This +childish passion, not for war, but for mere militarism, achieved +a desirable result. The Polish army, in its equipment, in its +armament, and in its battle-field efficiency, as then understood, +became, by the end of the year 1830, a first-rate tactical +instrument. Polish peasantry (not serfs) served in the ranks by +enlistment, and the officers belonged mainly to the smaller +nobility. Mr. Nicholas B., with his Napoleonic record, had no +difficulty in obtaining a lieutenancy, but the promotion in the +Polish army was slow, because, being a separate organization, it +took no part in the wars of the Russian Empire against either +Persia or Turkey. Its first campaign, against Russia itself, was +to be its last. In 1831, on the outbreak of the Revolution, Mr. +Nicholas B. was the senior captain of his regiment. Some time +before he had been made head of the remount establishment +quartered outside the kingdom in our southern provinces, whence +almost all the horses for the Polish cavalry were drawn. For the +first time since he went away from home at the age of eighteen to +begin his military life by the battle of Friedland, Mr. Nicholas +B. breathed the air of the "Border," his native air. Unkind fate +was lying in wait for him among the scenes of his youth. At the +first news of the rising in Warsaw all the remount establishment, +officers, "vets.," and the very troopers, were put promptly under +arrest and hurried off in a body beyond the Dnieper to the +nearest town in Russia proper. From there they were dispersed to +the distant parts of the empire. On this occasion poor Mr. +Nicholas B. penetrated into Russia much farther than he ever did +in the times of Napoleonic invasion, if much less willingly. +Astrakan was his destination. He remained there three years, +allowed to live at large in the town, but having to report +himself every day at noon to the military commandant, who used to +detain him frequently for a pipe and a chat. It is difficult to +form a just idea of what a chat with Mr. Nicholas B. could have +been like. There must have been much compressed rage under his +taciturnity, for the commandant communicated to him the news from +the theatre of war, and this news was such as it could be--that +is, very bad for the Poles. Mr. Nicholas B. received these +communications with outward phlegm, but the Russian showed a warm +sympathy for his prisoner. "As a soldier myself I understand +your feelings. You, of course, would like to be in the thick of +it. By heavens! I am fond of you. If it were not for the terms +of the military oath I would let you go on my own responsibility. + +What difference could it make to us, one more or less of you?" + +At other times he wondered with simplicity. + +"Tell me, Nicholas Stepanovitch" (my great-grandfather's name was +Stephen, and the commandant used the Russian form of polite +address)--"tell me why is it that you Poles are always looking +for trouble? What else could you expect from running up against +Russia?" + +He was capable, too, of philosophical reflections. + +"Look at your Napoleon now. A great man. There is no denying it +that he was a great man as long as he was content to thrash those +Germans and Austrians and all those nations. But no! He must go +to Russia looking for trouble, and what's the consequence? Such +as you see me; I have rattled this sabre of mine on the pavements +of Paris." + +After his return to Poland Mr. Nicholas B. described him as a +"worthy man but stupid," whenever he could be induced to speak of +the conditions of his exile. Declining the option offered him to +enter the Russian army, he was retired with only half the pension +of his rank. His nephew (my uncle and guardian) told me that the +first lasting impression on his memory as a child of four was the +glad excitement reigning in his parents' house on the day when +Mr. Nicholas B. arrived home from his detention in Russia. + +Every generation has its memories. The first memories of Mr. +Nicholas B. might have been shaped by the events of the last +partition of Poland, and he lived long enough to suffer from the +last armed rising in 1863, an event which affected the future of +all my generation and has coloured my earliest impressions. His +brother, in whose house he had sheltered for some seventeen years +his misanthropical timidity before the commonest problems of +life, having died in the early fifties, Mr. Nicholas B. had to +screw his courage up to the sticking-point and come to some +decision as to the future. After a long and agonizing hesitation +he was persuaded at last to become the tenant of some fifteen +hundred acres out of the estate of a friend in the neighbourhood. + +The terms of the lease were very advantageous, but the retired +situation of the village and a plain, comfortable house in good +repair were, I fancy, the greatest inducements. He lived there +quietly for about ten years, seeing very few people and taking no +part in the public life of the province, such as it could be +under an arbitrary bureaucratic tyranny. His character and his +patriotism were above suspicion; but the organizers of the rising +in their frequent journeys up and down the province scrupulously +avoided coming near his house. It was generally felt that the +repose of the old man's last years ought not to be disturbed. +Even such intimates as my paternal grandfather, comrade-in-arms +during Napoleon's Moscow campaign, and later on a fellow officer +in the Polish army, refrained from visiting his crony as the date +of the outbreak approached. My paternal grandfather's two sons +and his only daughter were all deeply involved in the +revolutionary work; he himself was of that type of Polish squire +whose only ideal of patriotic action was to "get into the saddle +and drive them out." But even he agreed that "dear Nicholas must +not be worried." All this considerate caution on the part of +friends, both conspirators and others, did not prevent Mr. +Nicholas B. being made to feel the misfortunes of that ill-omened +year. + +Less than forty-eight hours after the beginning of the rebellion +in that part of the country, a squadron of scouting Cossacks +passed through the village and invaded the homestead. Most of +them remained, formed between the house and the stables, while +several, dismounting, ransacked the various outbuildings. The +officer in command, accompanied by two men, walked up to the +front door. All the blinds on that side were down. The officer +told the servant who received him that he wanted to see his +master. He was answered that the master was away from home, which +was perfectly true. + +I follow here the tale as told afterward by the servant to my +granduncle's friends and relatives, and as I have heard it +repeated. + +On receiving this answer the Cossack officer, who had been +standing in the porch, stepped into the house. + +"Where is the master gone, then?" + +"Our master went to J----" (the government town some fifty miles +off) "the day before yesterday." + +"There are only two horses in the stables. Where are the +others?" + +"Our master always travels with his own horses" (meaning: not by +post). "He will be away a week or more. He was pleased to +mention to me that he had to attend to some business in the Civil +Court." + +While the servant was speaking the officer looked about the hall. + +There was a door facing him, a door to the right, and a door to +the left. The officer chose to enter the room on the left, and +ordered the blinds to be pulled up. It was Mr. Nicholas B.'s +study, with a couple of tall bookcases, some pictures on the +walls, and so on. Besides the big centre-table, with books and +papers, there was a quite small writing-table, with several +drawers, standing between the door and the window in a good +light; and at this table my granduncle usually sat either to read +or write. + +On pulling up the blind the servant was startled by the discovery +that the whole male population of the village was massed in +front, trampling down the flower-beds. There were also a few +women among them. He was glad to observe the village priest (of +the Orthodox Church) coming up the drive. The good man in his +haste had tucked up his cassock as high as the top of his boots. + +The officer had been looking at the backs of the books in the +bookcases. Then he perched himself on the edge of the centre +table and remarked easily: + +"Your master did not take you to town with him, then?" + +"I am the head servant, and he leaves me in charge of the house. +It's a strong, young chap that travels with our master. If--God +forbid--there was some accident on the road, he would be of much +more use than I." + +Glancing through the window, he saw the priest arguing vehemently +in the thick of the crowd, which seemed subdued by his +interference. Three or four men, however, were talking with the +Cossacks at the door. + +"And you don't think your master has gone to join the rebels +maybe--eh?" asked the officer. + +"Our master would be too old for that, surely. He's well over +seventy, and he's getting feeble, too. It's some years now since +he's been on horseback, and he can't walk much, either, now." + +The officer sat there swinging his leg, very quiet and +indifferent. By that time the peasants who had been talking with +the Cossack troopers at the door had been permitted to get into +the hall. One or two more left the crowd and followed them in. +They were seven in all, and among them the blacksmith, an +ex-soldier. The servant appealed deferentially to the officer. + +"Won't your honour be pleased to tell the people to go back to +their homes? What do they want to push themselves into the house +like this for? It's not proper for them to behave like this +while our master's away and I am responsible for everything +here." + +The officer only laughed a little, and after a while inquired: + +"Have you any arms in the house?" + +"Yes. We have. Some old things." + +"Bring them all here, onto this table." + +The servant made another attempt to obtain protection. + +"Won't your honour tell these chaps. . . ?" + +But the officer looked at him in silence, in such a way that he +gave it up at once and hurried off to call the pantry-boy to help +him collect the arms. Meantime, the officer walked slowly +through all the rooms in the house, examining them attentively +but touching nothing. The peasants in the hall fell back and +took off their caps when he passed through. He said nothing +whatever to them. When he came back to the study all the arms to +be found in the house were lying on the table. There was a pair +of big, flint-lock holster pistols from Napoleonic times, two +cavalry swords, one of the French, the other of the Polish army +pattern, with a fowling-piece or two. + +The officer, opening the window, flung out pistols, swords, and +guns, one after another, and his troopers ran to pick them up. +The peasants in the hall, encouraged by his manner, had stolen +after him into the study. He gave not the slightest sign of +being conscious of their existence, and, his business being +apparently concluded, strode out of the house without a word. +Directly he left, the peasants in the study put on their caps and +began to smile at each other. + +The Cossacks rode away, passing through the yards of the home +farm straight into the fields. The priest, still arguing with +the peasants, moved gradually down the drive and his earnest +eloquence was drawing the silent mob after him, away from the +house. This justice must be rendered to the parish priests of +the Greek Church that, strangers to the country as they were +(being all drawn from the interior of Russia), the majority of +them used such influence as they had over their flocks in the +cause of peace and humanity. True to the spirit of their +calling, they tried to soothe the passions of the excited +peasantry, and opposed rapine and violence, whenever they could, +with all their might. And this conduct they pursued against the +express wishes of the authorities. Later on some of them were +made to suffer for this disobedience by being removed abruptly to +the far north or sent away to Siberian parishes. + +The servant was anxious to get rid of the few peasants who had +got into the house. What sort of conduct was that, he asked +them, toward a man who was only a tenant, had been invariably +good and considerate to the villagers for years, and only the +other day had agreed to give up two meadows for the use of the +village herd? He reminded them, too, of Mr. Nicholas B.'s +devotion to the sick in time of cholera. Every word of this was +true, and so far effective that the fellows began to scratch +their heads and look irresolute. The speaker then pointed at the +window, exclaiming: "Look! there's all your crowd going away +quietly, and you silly chaps had better go after them and pray +God to forgive you your evil thoughts." + +This appeal was an unlucky inspiration. + +In crowding clumsily to the window to see whether he was speaking +the truth, the fellows overturned the little writing-table. As +it fell over a chink of loose coin was heard. "There's money in +that thing," cried the blacksmith. In a moment the top of the +delicate piece of furniture was smashed and there lay exposed in +a drawer eighty half imperials. Gold coin was a rare sight in +Russia even at that time; it put the peasants beside themselves. +"There must be more of that in the house, and we shall have it," +yelled the ex-soldier blacksmith. "This is war-time." The +others were already shouting out of the window, urging the crowd +to come back and help. The priest, abandoned suddenly at the +gate, flung his arms up and hurried away so as not to see what +was going to happen. + +In their search for money that bucolic mob smashed everything in +the house, ripping with knives, splitting with hatchets, so that, +as the servant said, there were no two pieces of wood holding +together left in the whole house. They broke some very fine +mirrors, all the windows, and every piece of glass and china. +They threw the books and papers out on the lawn and set fire to +the heap for the mere fun of the thing, apparently. Absolutely +the only one solitary thing which they left whole was a small +ivory crucifix, which remained hanging on the wall in the wrecked +bedroom above a wild heap of rags, broken mahogany, and +splintered boards which had been Mr. Nicholas B.'s bedstead. +Detecting the servant in the act of stealing away with a japanned +tin box, they tore it from him, and because he resisted they +threw him out of the dining-room window. The house was on one +floor, but raised well above the ground, and the fall was so +serious that the man remained lying stunned till the cook and a +stable-boy ventured forth at dusk from their hiding-places and +picked him up. But by that time the mob had departed, carrying +off the tin box, which they supposed to be full of paper money. +Some distance from the house, in the middle of a field, they +broke it open. They found in side documents engrossed on +parchment and the two crosses of the Legion of Honour and For +Valour. At the sight of these objects, which, the blacksmith +explained, were marks of honour given only by the Tsar, they +became extremely frightened at what they had done. They threw the +whole lot away into a ditch and dispersed hastily. + +On learning of this particular loss Mr. Nicholas B. broke down +completely. The mere sacking of his house did not seem to affect +him much. While he was still in bed from the shock, the two +crosses were found and returned to him. It helped somewhat his +slow convalescence, but the tin box and the parchments, though +searched for in all the ditches around, never turned up again. +He could not get over the loss of his Legion of Honour Patent, +whose preamble, setting forth his services, he knew by heart to +the very letter, and after this blow volunteered sometimes to +recite, tears standing in his eyes the while. Its terms haunted +him apparently during the last two years of his life to such an +extent that he used to repeat them to himself. This is confirmed +by the remark made more than once by his old servant to the more +intimate friends. "What makes my heart heavy is to hear our +master in his room at night walking up and down and praying aloud +in the French language." + +It must have been somewhat over a year afterward that I saw Mr. +Nicholas B.--or, more correctly, that he saw me--for the last +time. It was, as I have already said, at the time when my mother +had a three months' leave from exile, which she was spending in +the house of her brother, and friends and relations were coming +from far and near to do her honour. It is inconceivable that Mr. +Nicholas B. should not have been of the number. The little child +a few months old he had taken up in his arms on the day of his +home-coming, after years of war and exile, was confessing her +faith in national salvation by suffering exile in her turn. I do +not know whether he was present on the very day of our departure. + +I have already admitted that for me he is more especially the man +who in his youth had eaten roast dog in the depths of a gloomy +forest of snow-loaded pines. My memory cannot place him in any +remembered scene. A hooked nose, some sleek white hair, an +unrelated evanescent impression of a meagre, slight, rigid figure +militarily buttoned up to the throat, is all that now exists on +earth of Mr. Nicholas B.; only this vague shadow pursued by the +memory of his grandnephew, the last surviving human being, I +suppose, of all those he had seen in the course of his taciturn +life. + +But I remember well the day of our departure back to exile. The +elongated, bizarre, shabby travelling-carriage with four +post-horses, standing before the long front of the house with its +eight columns, four on each side of the broad flight of stairs. +On the steps, groups of servants, a few relations, one or two +friends from the nearest neighbourhood, a perfect silence; on all +the faces an air of sober concentration; my grandmother, all in +black, gazing stoically; my uncle giving his arm to my mother +down to the carriage in which I had been placed already; at the +top of the flight my little cousin in a short skirt of a tartan +pattern with a deal of red in it, and like a small princess +attended by the women of her own household; the head gouvernante, +our dear, corpulent Francesca (who had been for thirty years in +the service of the B. family), the former nurse, now outdoor +attendant, a handsome peasant face wearing a compassionate +expression, and the good, ugly Mlle. Durand, the governess, with +her black eyebrows meeting over a short, thick nose, and a +complexion like pale-brown paper. Of all the eyes turned toward +the carriage, her good-natured eyes only were dropping tears, and +it was her sobbing voice alone that broke the silence with an +appeal to me: "N'oublie pas ton francais, mon cheri." In three +months, simply by playing with us, she had taught me not only to +speak French, but to read it as well. She was indeed an +excellent playmate. In the distance, half-way down to the great +gates, a light, open trap, harnessed with three horses in Russian +fashion, stood drawn up on one side, with the police captain of +the district sitting in it, the vizor of his flat cap with a red +band pulled down over his eyes. + +It seems strange that he should have been there to watch our +going so carefully. Without wishing to treat with levity the +just timidites of Imperialists all the world over, I may allow +myself the reflection that a woman, practically condemned by the +doctors, and a small boy not quite six years old, could not be +regarded as seriously dangerous, even for the largest of +conceivable empires saddled with the most sacred of +responsibilities. And this good man I believe did not think so, +either. + +I learned afterward why he was present on that day. I don't +remember any outward signs; but it seems that, about a month +before, my mother became so unwell that there was a doubt whether +she could be made fit to travel in the time. In this uncertainty +the Governor-General in Kiev was petitioned to grant her a +fortnight's extension of stay in her brother's house. No answer +whatever was returned to this prayer, but one day at dusk the +police captain of the district drove up to the house and told my +uncle's valet, who ran out to meet him, that he wanted to speak +with the master in private, at once. Very much impressed (he +thought it was going to be an arrest), the servant, "more dead +than alive with fright," as he related afterward, smuggled him +through the big drawing-room, which was dark (that room was not +lighted every evening), on tiptoe, so as not to attract the +attention of the ladies in the house, and led him by way of the +orangery to my uncle's private apartments. + +The policeman, without any preliminaries, thrust a paper into my +uncle's hands. + +"There. Pray read this. I have no business to show this paper +to you. It is wrong of me. But I can't either eat or sleep with +such a job hanging over me." + +That police captain, a native of Great Russia, had been for many +years serving in the district. + +My uncle unfolded and read the document. It was a service order +issued from the Governor-General's secretariat, dealing with the +matter of the petition and directing the police captain to +disregard all remonstrances and explanations in regard to that +illness either from medical men or others, "and if she has not +left her brother's house"--it went on to say--"on the morning of +the day specified on her permit, you are to despatch her at once +under escort, direct" (underlined) "to the prison-hospital in +Kiev, where she will be treated as her case demands." + +"For God's sake, Mr. B., see that your sister goes away +punctually on that day. Don't give me this work to do with a +woman--and with one of your family, too. I simply cannot bear to +think of it." + +He was absolutely wringing his hands. My uncle looked at him in +silence. + +"Thank you for this warning. I assure you that even if she were +dying she would be carried out to the carriage." + +"Yes--indeed--and what difference would it make--travel to Kiev +or back to her husband? For she would have to go--death or no +death. And mind, Mr. B., I will be here on the day, not that I +doubt your promise, but because I must. I have got to. Duty. +All the same my trade is not fit for a dog since some of you +Poles will persist in rebelling, and all of you have got to +suffer for it." + +This is the reason why he was there in an open three-horse trap +pulled up between the house and the great gates. I regret not +being able to give up his name to the scorn of all believers in +the right of conquest, as a reprehensibly sensitive guardian of +Imperial greatness. On the other hand, I am in a position to +state the name of the Governor-General who signed the order with +the marginal note "to be carried out to the letter" in his own +handwriting. The gentleman's name was Bezak. A high dignitary, +an energetic official, the idol for a time of the Russian +patriotic press. + +Each generation has its memories. + + +IV + +It must not be supposed that, in setting forth the memories of +this half-hour between the moment my uncle left my room till we +met again at dinner, I am losing sight of "Almayer's Folly." +Having confessed that my first novel was begun in idleness--a +holiday task--I think I have also given the impression that it +was a much-delayed book. It was never dismissed from my mind, +even when the hope of ever finishing it was very faint. Many +things came in its way: daily duties, new impressions, old +memories. It was not the outcome of a need--the famous need of +self-expression which artists find in their search for motives. +The necessity which impelled me was a hidden, obscure necessity, +a completely masked and unaccountable phenomenon. Or perhaps +some idle and frivolous magician (there must be magicians in +London) had cast a spell over me through his parlour window as I +explored the maze of streets east and west in solitary leisurely +walks without chart and compass. Till I began to write that +novel I had written nothing but letters, and not very many of +these. I never made a note of a fact, of an impression, or of an +anecdote in my life. The conception of a planned book was +entirely outside my mental range when I sat down to write; the +ambition of being an author had never turned up among those +gracious imaginary existences one creates fondly for oneself at +times in the stillness and immobility of a day-dream: yet it +stands clear as the sun at noonday that from the moment I had +done blackening over the first manuscript page of "Almayer's +Folly" (it contained about two hundred words and this proportion +of words to a page has remained with me through the fifteen years +of my writing life), from the moment I had, in the simplicity of +my heart and the amazing ignorance of my mind, written that page +the die was cast. Never had Rubicon been more blindly forded +without invocation to the gods, without fear of men. + +That morning I got up from my breakfast, pushing the chair back, +and rang the bell violently, or perhaps I should say resolutely, +or perhaps I should say eagerly--I do not know. But manifestly +it must have been a special ring of the bell, a common sound made +impressive, like the ringing of a bell for the raising of the +curtain upon a new scene. It was an unusual thing for me to do. +Generally, I dawdled over my breakfast and I seldom took the +trouble to ring the bell for the table to be cleared away; but on +that morning, for some reason hidden in the general +mysteriousness of the event, I did not dawdle. And yet I was not +in a hurry. I pulled the cord casually, and while the faint +tinkling somewhere down in the basement went on, I charged my +pipe in the usual way and I looked for the match-box with glances +distraught indeed, but exhibiting, I am ready to swear, no signs +of a fine frenzy. I was composed enough to perceive after some +considerable time the match-box lying there on the mantelpiece +right under my nose. And all this was beautifully and safely +usual. Before I had thrown down the match my landlady's daughter +appeared with her calm, pale face and an inquisitive look, in the +doorway. Of late it was the landlady's daughter who answered my +bell. I mention this little fact with pride, because it proves +that during the thirty or forty days of my tenancy I had produced +a favourable impression. For a fortnight past I had been spared +the unattractive sight of the domestic slave. The girls in that +Bessborough Gardens house were often changed, but whether short +or long, fair or dark, they were always untidy and particularly +bedraggled, as if in a sordid version of the fairy tale the +ash-bin cat had been changed into a maid. I was infinitely +sensible of the privilege of being waited on by my landlady's +daughter. She was neat if anemic. + +"Will you please clear away all this at once?" I addressed her +in convulsive accents, being at the same time engaged in getting +my pipe to draw. This, I admit, was an unusual request. +Generally, on getting up from breakfast I would sit down in the +window with a book and let them clear the table when they liked; +but if you think that on that morning I was in the least +impatient, you are mistaken. I remember that I was perfectly +calm. As a matter of fact I was not at all certain that I wanted +to write, or that I meant to write, or that I had anything to +write about. No, I was not impatient. I lounged between the +mantelpiece and the window, not even consciously waiting for the +table to be cleared. It was ten to one that before my landlady's +daughter was done I would pick up a book and sit down with it all +the morning in a spirit of enjoyable indolence. I affirm it with +assurance, and I don't even know now what were the books then +lying about the room. What ever they were, they were not the +works of great masters, where the secret of clear thought and +exact expression can be found. Since the age of five I have been +a great reader, as is not perhaps wonderful in a child who was +never aware of learning to read. At ten years of age I had read +much of Victor Hugo and other romantics. I had read in Polish +and in French, history, voyages, novels; I knew "Gil Blas" and +"Don Quixote" in abridged editions; I had read in early boyhood +Polish poets and some French poets, but I cannot say what I read +on the evening before I began to write myself. I believe it was +a novel, and it is quite possible that it was one of Anthony +Trollope's novels. It is very likely. My acquaintance with him +was then very recent. He is one of the English novelists whose +works I read for the first time in English. With men of European +reputation, with Dickens and Walter Scott and Thackeray, it was +otherwise. My first introduction to English imaginative +literature was "Nicholas Nickleby." It is extraordinary how well +Mrs. Nickleby could chatter disconnectedly in Polish and the +sinister Ralph rage in that language. As to the Crummles family +and the family of the learned Squeers it seemed as natural to +them as their native speech. It was, I have no doubt, an +excellent translation. This must have been in the year '70. But +I really believe that I am wrong. That book was not my first +introduction to English literature. My first acquaintance was +(or were) the "Two Gentlemen of Verona," and that in the very MS. +of my father's translation. It was during our exile in Russia, +and it must have been less than a year after my mother's death, +because I remember myself in the black blouse with a white border +of my heavy mourning. We were living together, quite alone, in a +small house on the outskirts of the town of T----. That +afternoon, instead of going out to play in the large yard which +we shared with our landlord, I had lingered in the room in which +my father generally wrote. What emboldened me to clamber into +his chair I am sure I don't know, but a couple of hours afterward +he discovered me kneeling in it with my elbows on the table and +my head held in both hands over the MS. of loose pages. I was +greatly confused, expecting to get into trouble. He stood in the +doorway looking at me with some surprise, but the only thing he +said after a moment of silence was: + +"Read the page aloud." + +Luckily the page lying before me was not overblotted with +erasures and corrections, and my father's handwriting was +otherwise extremely legible. When I got to the end he nodded, +and I flew out-of-doors, thinking myself lucky to have escaped +reproof for that piece of impulsive audacity. I have tried to +discover since the reason for this mildness, and I imagine that +all unknown to myself I had earned, in my father's mind, the +right to some latitude in my relations with his writing-table. +It was only a month before--or perhaps it was only a week +before--that I had read to him aloud from beginning to end, and +to his perfect satisfaction, as he lay on his bed, not being very +well at the time, the proofs of his translation of Victor Hugo's +"Toilers of the Sea." Such was my title to consideration, I +believe, and also my first introduction to the sea in literature. + +If I do not remember where, how, and when I learned to read, I am +not likely to forget the process of being trained in the art of +reading aloud. My poor father, an admirable reader himself, was +the most exacting of masters. I reflect proudly that I must have +read that page of "Two Gentlemen of Verona" tolerably well at the +age of eight. The next time I met them was in a 5s. one-volume +edition of the dramatic works of William Shakespeare, read in +Falmouth, at odd moments of the day, to the noisy accompaniment +of calkers' mallets driving oakum into the deck-seams of a ship +in dry-dock. We had run in, in a sinking condition and with the +crew refusing duty after a month of weary battling with the gales +of the North Atlantic. Books are an integral part of one's life, +and my Shakespearian associations are with that first year of our +bereavement, the last I spent with my father in exile (he sent me +away to Poland to my mother's brother directly he could brace +himself up for the separation), and with the year of hard gales, +the year in which I came nearest to death at sea, first by water +and then by fire. + +Those things I remember, but what I was reading the day before my +writing life began I have forgotten. I have only a vague notion +that it might have been one of Trollope's political novels. And +I remember, too, the character of the day. It was an autumn day +with an opaline atmosphere, a veiled, semi-opaque, lustrous day, +with fiery points and flashes of red sunlight on the roofs and +windows opposite, while the trees of the square, with all their +leaves gone, were like the tracings of India ink on a sheet of +tissue-paper. It was one of those London days that have the charm +of mysterious amenity, of fascinating softness. The effect of +opaline mist was often repeated at Bessborough Gardens on account +of the nearness to the river. + +There is no reason why I should remember that effect more on that +day than on any other day, except that I stood for a long time +looking out of the window after the landlady's daughter was gone +with her spoil of cups and saucers. I heard her put the tray +down in the passage and finally shut the door; and still I +remained smoking, with my back to the room. It is very clear +that I was in no haste to take the plunge into my writing life, +if as plunge this first attempt may be described. My whole being +was steeped deep in the indolence of a sailor away from the sea, +the scene of never-ending labour and of unceasing duty. For +utter surrender to in indolence you cannot beat a sailor ashore +when that mood is on him--the mood of absolute irresponsibility +tasted to the full. It seems to me that I thought of nothing +whatever, but this is an impression which is hardly to be +believed at this distance of years. What I am certain of is that +I was very far from thinking of writing a story, though it is +possible and even likely that I was thinking of the man Almayer. + +I had seen him for the first time, some four years before, from +the bridge of a steamer moored to a rickety little wharf forty +miles up, more or less, a Bornean river. It was very early +morning, and a slight mist--an opaline mist as in Bessborough +Gardens, only without the fiery flicks on roof and chimney-pot +from the rays of the red London sun--promised to turn presently +into a woolly fog. Barring a small dug-out canoe on the river +there was nothing moving within sight. I had just come up +yawning from my cabin. The serang and the Malay crew were +overhauling the cargo chains and trying the winches; their voices +sounded subdued on the deck below, and their movements were +languid. That tropical daybreak was chilly. The Malay +quartermaster, coming up to get something from the lockers on the +bridge, shivered visibly. The forests above and below and on the +opposite bank looked black and dank; wet dripped from the rigging +upon the tightly stretched deck awnings, and it was in the middle +of a shuddering yawn that I caught sight of Almayer. He was +moving across a patch of burned grass, a blurred, shadowy shape +with the blurred bulk of a house behind him, a low house of mats, +bamboos, and palm leaves, with a high-pitched roof of grass. + +He stepped upon the jetty. He was clad simply in flapping +pajamas of cretonne pattern (enormous flowers with yellow petals +on a disagreeable blue ground) and a thin cotton singlet with +short sleeves. His arms, bare to the elbow, were crossed on his +chest. His black hair looked as if it had not been cut for a +very long time, and a curly wisp of it strayed across his +forehead. I had heard of him at Singapore; I had heard of him on +board; I had heard of him early in the morning and late at night; +I had heard of him at tiffin and at dinner; I had heard of him in +a place called Pulo Laut from a half-caste gentleman there, who +described himself as the manager of a coal-mine; which sounded +civilized and progressive till you heard that the mine could not +be worked at present because it was haunted by some particularly +atrocious ghosts. I had heard of him in a place called Dongola, +in the Island of Celebes, when the Rajah of that little-known +seaport (you can get no anchorage there in less than fifteen +fathom, which is extremely inconvenient) came on board in a +friendly way, with only two attendants, and drank bottle after +bottle of soda-water on the after-sky light with my good friend +and commander, Captain C----. At least I heard his name +distinctly pronounced several times in a lot of talk in Malay +language. Oh, yes, I heard it quite distinctly--Almayer, +Almayer--and saw Captain C---- smile, while the fat, dingy Rajah +laughed audibly. To hear a Malay Rajah laugh outright is a rare +experience, I can as sure you. And I overheard more of Almayer's +name among our deck passengers (mostly wandering traders of good +repute) as they sat all over the ship--each man fenced round with +bundles and boxes--on mats, on pillows, on quilts, on billets of +wood, conversing of Island affairs. Upon my word, I heard the +mutter of Almayer's name faintly at midnight, while making my way +aft from the bridge to look at the patent taffrail-log tinkling +its quarter miles in the great silence of the sea. I don't mean +to say that our passengers dreamed aloud of Almayer, but it is +indubitable that two of them at least, who could not sleep, +apparently, and were trying to charm away the trouble of insomnia +by a little whispered talk at that ghostly hour, were referring +in some way or other to Almayer. It was really impossible on +board that ship to get away definitely from Almayer; and a very +small pony tied up forward and whisking its tail inside the +galley, to the great embarrassment of our Chinaman cook, was +destined for Almayer. What he wanted with a pony goodness only +knows, since I am perfectly certain he could not ride it; but +here you have the man, ambitious, aiming at the grandiose, +importing a pony, whereas in the whole settlement at which he +used to shake daily his impotent fist there was only one path +that was practicable for a pony: a quarter of a mile at most, +hedged in by hundreds of square leagues of virgin forest. But +who knows? The importation of that Bali pony might have been +part of some deep scheme, of some diplomatic plan, of some +hopeful intrigue. With Almayer one could never tell. He +governed his conduct by considerations removed from the obvious, +by incredible assumptions, which rendered his logic impenetrable +to any reasonable person. I learned all this later. That +morning, seeing the figure in pajamas moving in the mist, I said +to myself, "That's the man." + +He came quite close to the ship's side and raised a harassed +countenance, round and flat, with that curl of black hair over +the forehead and a heavy, pained glance. + +"Good morning." + +"Good morning." + +He looked hard at me: I was a new face, having just replaced the +chief mate he was accustomed to see; and I think that this +novelty inspired him, as things generally did, with deep-seated +mistrust. + +"Didn't expect you till this evening," he remarked, suspiciously. + +I didn't know why he should have been aggrieved, but he seemed to +be. I took pains to explain to him that, having picked up the +beacon at the mouth of the river just before dark and the tide +serving, Captain C---- was enabled to cross the bar and there was +nothing to prevent him going up the river at night. + +"Captain C---- knows this river like his own pocket," I +concluded, discursively, trying to get on terms. + +"Better," said Almayer. + +Leaning over the rail of the bridge, I looked at Almayer, who +looked down at the wharf in aggrieved thought. He shuffled his +feet a little; he wore straw slippers with thick soles. The +morning fog had thickened considerably. Everything round us +dripped--the derricks, the rails, every single rope in the +ship--as if a fit of crying had come upon the universe. + +Almayer again raised his head and, in the accents of a man +accustomed to the buffets of evil fortune, asked, hardly audibly: + +"I suppose you haven't got such a thing as a pony on board?" + +I told him, almost in a whisper, for he attuned my communications +to his minor key, that we had such a thing as a pony, and I +hinted, as gently as I could, that he was confoundedly in the +way, too. I was very anxious to have him landed before I began +to handle the cargo. Almayer remained looking up at me for a +long while, with incredulous and melancholy eyes, as though it +were not a safe thing to believe in my statement. This pathetic +mistrust in the favourable issue of any sort of affair touched me +deeply, and I added: + +"He doesn't seem a bit the worse for the passage. He's a nice +pony, too." + +Almayer was not to be cheered up; for all answer he cleared his +throat and looked down again at his feet. I tried to close with +him on another tack. + +"By Jove!" I said. "Aren't you afraid of catching pneumonia or +bronchitis or some thing, walking about in a singlet in such a +wet fog?" + +He was not to be propitiated by a show of interest in his health. + +His answer was a sinister "No fear," as much as to say that even +that way of escape from inclement fortune was closed to him. + +"I just came down . . ." he mumbled after a while. + +"Well, then, now you're here I will land that pony for you at +once, and you can lead him home. I really don't want him on +deck. He's in the way." + +Almayer seemed doubtful. I insisted: + +"Why, I will just swing him out and land him on the wharf right +in front of you. I'd much rather do it before the hatches are +off. The little devil may jump down the hold or do some other +deadly thing." + +"There's a halter?" postulated Almayer. + +"Yes, of course there's a halter." And without waiting any more +I leaned over the bridge rail. + +"Serang, land Tuan Almayer's pony." + +The cook hastened to shut the door of the galley, and a moment +later a great scuffle began on deck. The pony kicked with +extreme energy, the kalashes skipped out of the way, the serang +issued many orders in a cracked voice. Suddenly the pony leaped +upon the fore-hatch. His little hoofs thundered tremendously; he +plunged and reared. He had tossed his mane and his forelock into +a state of amazing wildness, he dilated his nostrils, bits of +foam flecked his broad little chest, his eyes blazed. He was +something under eleven hands; he was fierce, terrible, angry, +warlike; he said ha! ha! distinctly; he raged and thumped--and +sixteen able-bodied kalashes stood round him like disconcerted +nurses round a spoiled and passionate child. He whisked his tail +incessantly; he arched his pretty neck; he was perfectly +delightful; he was charmingly naughty. There was not an atom of +vice in that performance; no savage baring of teeth and laying +back of ears. On the contrary, he pricked them forward in a +comically aggressive manner. He was totally unmoral and lovable; +I would have liked to give him bread, sugar, carrots. But life +is a stern thing and the sense of duty the only safe guide. So I +steeled my heart, and from my elevated position on the bridge I +ordered the men to fling themselves upon him in a body. + +The elderly serang, emitting a strange, inarticulate cry, gave +the example. He was an excellent petty officer--very competent, +indeed, and a moderate opium-smoker. The rest of them in one +great rush smothered that pony. They hung on to his ears, to his +mane, to his tail; they lay in piles across his back, seventeen +in all. The carpenter, seizing the hook of the cargo-chain, +flung himself on the top of them. A very satisfactory petty +officer, too, but he stuttered. Have you ever heard a +light-yellow, lean, sad, earnest Chinaman stutter in +Pidgin-English? It's very weird, indeed. He made the +eighteenth. I could not see the pony at all; but from the +swaying and heaving of that heap of men I knew that there was +something alive inside. + +From the wharf Almayer hailed, in quavering tones: + +"Oh, I say!" + +Where he stood he could not see what was going on on deck, +unless, perhaps, the tops of the men's heads; he could only hear +the scuffle, the mighty thuds, as if the ship were being knocked +to pieces. I looked over: "What is it?" + +"Don't let them break his legs," he entreated me, plaintively. + +"Oh, nonsense! He's all right now. He can't move." + +By that time the cargo-chain had been hooked to the broad canvas +belt round the pony's body; the kalashes sprang off +simultaneously in all directions, rolling over each other; and +the worthy serang, making a dash behind the winch, turned the +steam on. + +"Steady!" I yelled, in great apprehension of seeing the animal +snatched up to the very head of the derrick. + +On the wharf Almayer shuffled his straw slippers uneasily. The +rattle of the winch stopped, and in a tense, impressive silence +that pony began to swing across the deck. + +How limp he was! Directly he felt himself in the air he relaxed +every muscle in a most wonderful manner. His four hoofs knocked +together in a bunch, his head hung down, and his tail remained +pendent in a nerveless and absolute immobility. He reminded me +vividly of the pathetic little sheep which hangs on the collar of +the Order of the Golden Fleece. I had no idea that anything in +the shape of a horse could be so limp as that, either living or +dead. His wild mane hung down lumpily, a mere mass of inanimate +horsehair; his aggressive ears had collapsed, but as he went +swaying slowly across the front of the bridge I noticed an astute +gleam in his dreamy, half-closed eye. A trustworthy +quartermaster, his glance anxious and his mouth on the broad +grin, was easing over the derrick watchfully. I superintended, +greatly interested. + +"So! That will do." + +The derrick-head stopped. The kalashes lined the rail. The rope +of the halter hung perpendicular and motionless like a bell-pull +in front of Almayer. Everything was very still. I suggested +amicably that he should catch hold of the rope and mind what he +was about. He extended a provokingly casual and superior hand. + +"Look out, then! Lower away!" + +Almayer gathered in the rope intelligently enough, but when the +pony's hoofs touched the wharf he gave way all at once to a most +foolish optimism. Without pausing, without thinking, almost +without looking, he disengaged the hook suddenly from the sling, +and the cargo-chain, after hitting the pony's quarters, swung +back against the ship's side with a noisy, rattling slap. I +suppose I must have blinked. I know I missed something, because +the next thing I saw was Almayer lying flat on his back on the +jetty. He was alone. + +Astonishment deprived me of speech long enough to give Almayer +time to pick himself up in a leisurely and painful manner. The +kalashes lining the rail all had their mouths open. The mist +flew in the light breeze, and it had come over quite thick enough +to hide the shore completely. + +"How on earth did you manage to let him get away?" I asked, +scandalized. + +Almayer looked into the smarting palm of his right hand, but did +not answer my inquiry. + +"Where do you think he will get to?" I cried. "Are there any +fences anywhere in this fog? Can he bolt into the forest? +What's to be done now?" + +Almayer shrugged his shoulders. + +"Some of my men are sure to be about. They will get hold of him +sooner or later." + +"Sooner or later! That's all very fine, but what about my canvas +sling?--he's carried it off. I want it now, at once, to land two +Celebes cows." + +Since Dongola we had on board a pair of the pretty little island +cattle in addition to the pony. Tied up on the other side of the +fore-deck they had been whisking their tails into the other door +of the galley. These cows were not for Almayer, however; they +were invoiced to Abdullah bin Selim, his enemy. Almayer's +disregard of my requirements was complete. + +"If I were you I would try to find out where he's gone," I +insisted. "Hadn't you better call your men together or +something? He will throw himself down and cut his knees. He may +even break a leg, you know." + +But Almayer, plunged in abstracted thought, did not seem to want +that pony any more. Amazed at this sudden indifference, I turned +all hands out on shore to hunt for him on my own account, or, at +any rate, to hunt for the canvas sling which he had round his +body. The whole crew of the steamer, with the exception of +firemen and engineers, rushed up the jetty, past the thoughtful +Almayer, and vanished from my sight. The white fog swallowed +them up; and again there was a deep silence that seemed to extend +for miles up and down the stream. Still taciturn, Almayer +started to climb on board, and I went down from the bridge to +meet him on the after-deck. + +"Would you mind telling the captain that I want to see him very +particularly?" he asked me, in a low tone, letting his eyes stray +all over the place. + +"Very well. I will go and see." + +With the door of his cabin wide open, Captain C----, just back +from the bath-room, big and broad-chested, was brushing his +thick, damp, iron-gray hair with two large brushes. + +"Mr. Almayer told me he wanted to see you very particularly, +sir." + +Saying these words, I smiled. I don't know why I smiled, except +that it seemed absolutely impossible to mention Almayer's name +without a smile of a sort. It had not to be necessarily a +mirthful smile. Turning his head toward me, Captain C---- +smiled, too, rather joylessly. + +"The pony got away from him--eh?" + +"Yes, sir. He did." + +"Where is he?" + +"Goodness only knows." + +"No. I mean Almayer. Let him come along." + +The captain's stateroom opening straight on deck under the +bridge, I had only to beckon from the doorway to Almayer, who had +remained aft, with downcast eyes, on the very spot where I had +left him. He strolled up moodily, shook hands, and at once asked +permission to shut the cabin door. + +"I have a pretty story to tell you," were the last words I heard. + +The bitterness of tone was remarkable. + +I went away from the door, of course. For the moment I had no +crew on board; only the Chinaman carpenter, with a canvas bag +hung round his neck and a hammer in his hand, roamed about the +empty decks, knocking out the wedges of the hatches and dropping +them into the bag conscientiously. Having nothing to do I joined +our two engineers at the door of the engine-room. It was near +breakfast-time. + +"He's turned up early, hasn't he?" commented the second engineer, +and smiled indifferently. He was an abstemious man, with a good +digestion and a placid, reasonable view of life even when hungry. + +"Yes," I said. "Shut up with the old man. Some very particular +business." + +"He will spin him a damned endless yarn," observed the chief +engineer. + +He smiled rather sourly. He was dyspeptic, and suffered from +gnawing hunger in the morning. The second smiled broadly, a +smile that made two vertical folds on his shaven cheeks. And I +smiled, too, but I was not exactly amused. In that man, whose +name apparently could not be uttered anywhere in the Malay +Archipelago without a smile, there was nothing amusing whatever. +That morning he breakfasted with us silently, looking mostly into +his cup. I informed him that my men came upon his pony capering +in the fog on the very brink of the eight-foot-deep well in which +he kept his store of guttah. The cover was off, with no one near +by, and the whole of my crew just missed going heels over head +into that beastly hole. Jurumudi Itam, our best quartermaster, +deft at fine needlework, he who mended the ship's flags and sewed +buttons on our coats, was disabled by a kick on the shoulder. + +Both remorse and gratitude seemed foreign to Almayer's character. + +He mumbled: + +"Do you mean that pirate fellow?" + +"What pirate fellow? The man has been in the ship eleven years," +I said, indignantly. + +"It's his looks," Almayer muttered, for all apology. + +The sun had eaten up the fog. From where we sat under the +after-awning we could see in the distance the pony tied up, in +front of Almayer's house, to a post of the veranda. We were +silent for a long time. All at once Almayer, alluding evidently +to the subject of his conversation in the captain's cabin, +exclaimed anxiously across the table: + +"I really don't know what I can do now!" + +Captain C---- only raised his eyebrows at him, and got up from +his chair. We dispersed to our duties, but Almayer, half dressed +as he was in his cretonne pajamas and the thin cotton singlet, +remained on board, lingering near the gangway, as though he could +not make up his mind whether to go home or stay with us for good. + +Our Chinamen boys gave him side glances as they went to and fro; +and Ah Sing, our chief steward, the handsomest and most +sympathetic of Chinamen, catching my eye, nodded knowingly at his +burly back. In the course of the morning I approached him for a +moment. + +"Well, Mr. Almayer," I addressed him, easily, "you haven't +started on your letters yet." + +We had brought him his mail, and he had held the bundle in his +hand ever since we got up from breakfast. He glanced at it when +I spoke, and for a moment it looked as if he were on the point of +opening his fingers and letting the whole lot fall overboard. I +believe he was tempted to do so. I shall never forget that man +afraid of his letters. + +"Have you been long out from Europe?" he asked me. + +"Not very. Not quite eight months," I told him. "I left a ship +in Samarang with a hurt back, and have been in the hospital in +Singapore some weeks." + +He sighed. + +"Trade is very bad here." + +"Indeed!" + +"Hopeless! . . . See these geese?" + +With the hand holding the letters he pointed out to me what +resembled a patch of snow creeping and swaying across the distant +part of his compound. It disappeared behind some bushes. + +"The only geese on the East Coast," Almayer informed me, in a +perfunctory mutter without a spark of faith, hope, or pride. +Thereupon, with the same absence of any sort of sustaining +spirit, he declared his intention to select a fat bird and send +him on board for us not later than next day. + +I had heard of these largesses before. He conferred a goose as +if it were a sort of court decoration given only to the tried +friends of the house. I had expected more pomp in the ceremony. +The gift had surely its special quality, multiple and rare. From +the only flock on the East Coast! He did not make half enough of +it. That man did not understand his opportunities. However, I +thanked him at some length. + +"You see," he interrupted, abruptly, in a very peculiar tone, +"the worst of this country is that one is not able to realize . . +. it's impossible to realize. . . ." His voice sank into a +languid mutter. "And when one has very large interests . . . +very important interests . . ." he finished, faintly . . . "up +the river." + +We looked at each other. He astonished me by giving a start and +making a very queer grimace. + +"Well, I must be off," he burst out, hurriedly. "So long!" + +At the moment of stepping over the gang way he checked himself, +though, to give me a mumbled invitation to dine at his house that +evening with my captain, an invitation which I accepted. I don't +think it could have been possible for me to refuse. + +I like the worthy folk who will talk to you of the exercise of +free-will, "at any rate for practical purposes." Free, is it? +For practical purposes! Bosh! How could I have refused to dine +with that man? I did not refuse, simply because I could not +refuse. Curiosity, a healthy desire for a change of cooking, +common civility, the talk and the smiles of the previous twenty +days, every condition of my existence at that moment and place +made irresistibly for acceptance; and, crowning all that, there +was the ignorance--the ignorance, I say--the fatal want of fore +knowledge to counterbalance these imperative conditions of the +problem. A refusal would have appeared perverse and insane. +Nobody, unless a surly lunatic, would have refused. But if I had +not got to know Almayer pretty well it is almost certain there +would never have been a line of mine in print. + +I accepted then--and I am paying yet the price of my sanity. The +possessor of the only flock of geese on the East Coast is +responsible for the existence of some fourteen volumes, so far. +The number of geese he had called into being under adverse +climatic conditions was considerably more than fourteen. The +tale of volumes will never overtake the counting of heads, I am +safe to say; but my ambitions point not exactly that way, and +whatever the pangs the toil of writing has cost me I have always +thought kindly of Almayer. + +I wonder, had he known anything of it, what his attitude would +have been? This is something not to be discovered in this world. + +But if we ever meet in the Elysian Fields--where I cannot depict +him to myself otherwise than attended in the distance by his +flock of geese (birds sacred to Jupiter)--and he addresses me in +the stillness of that passionless region, neither light nor +darkness, neither sound nor silence, and heaving endlessly with +billowy mists from the impalpable multitudes of the swarming +dead, I think I know what answer to make. + +I would say, after listening courteously to the unvibrating tone +of his measured remonstrances, which should not disturb, of +course, the solemn eternity of stillness in the least--I would +say something like this: + +"It is true, Almayer, that in the world below I have converted +your name to my own uses. But that is a very small larceny. +What's in a name, O Shade? If so much of your old mortal +weakness clings to you yet as to make you feel aggrieved (it was +the note of your earthly voice, Almayer), then, I entreat you, +seek speech without delay with our sublime fellow-Shade--with him +who, in his transient existence as a poet, commented upon the +smell of the rose. He will comfort you. You came to me stripped +of all prestige by men's queer smiles and the disrespectful +chatter of every vagrant trader in the Islands. Your name was +the common property of the winds; it, as it were, floated naked +over the waters about the equator. I wrapped round its +unhonoured form the royal mantle of the tropics, and have essayed +to put into the hollow sound the very anguish of paternity--feats +which you did not demand from me--but remember that all the toil +and all the pain were mine. In your earthly life you haunted me, +Almayer. Consider that this was taking a great liberty. Since +you were always complaining of being lost to the world, you +should remember that if I had not believed enough in your +existence to let you haunt my rooms in Bessborough Gardens, you +would have been much more lost. You affirm that had I been +capable of looking at you with a more perfect detachment and a +greater simplicity, I might have perceived better the inward +marvellousness which, you insist, attended your career upon that +tiny pin-point of light, hardly visible far, far below us, where +both our graves lie. No doubt! But reflect, O complaining +Shade! that this was not so much my fault as your crowning +misfortune. I believed in you in the only way it was possible +for me to believe. It was not worthy of your merits? So be it. +But you were always an unlucky man, Almayer. Nothing was ever +quite worthy of you. What made you so real to me was that you +held this lofty theory with some force of conviction and with an +admirable consistency." + +It is with some such words translated into the proper shadowy +expressions that I am prepared to placate Almayer in the Elysian +Abode of Shades, since it has come to pass that, having parted +many years ago, we are never to meet again in this world. + + +V + +In the career of the most unliterary of writers, in the sense +that literary ambition had never entered the world of his +imagination, the coming into existence of the first book is quite +an inexplicable event. In my own case I cannot trace it back to +any mental or psychological cause which one could point out and +hold to. The greatest of my gifts being a consummate capacity +for doing nothing, I cannot even point to boredom as a rational +stimulus for taking up a pen. The pen, at any rate, was there, +and there is nothing wonderful in that. Everybody keeps a pen +(the cold steel of our days) in his rooms, in this enlightened +age of penny stamps and halfpenny post-cards. In fact, this was +the epoch when by means of postcard and pen Mr. Gladstone had +made the reputation of a novel or two. And I, too, had a pen +rolling about somewhere--the seldom-used, the reluctantly +taken-up pen of a sailor ashore, the pen rugged with the dried +ink of abandoned attempts, of answers delayed longer than decency +permitted, of letters begun with infinite reluctance, and put off +suddenly till next day--till next week, as like as not! The +neglected, uncared-for pen, flung away at the slightest +provocation, and under the stress of dire necessity hunted for +without enthusiasm, in a perfunctory, grumpy worry, in the "Where +the devil IS the beastly thing gone to?" ungracious spirit. +Where, indeed! It might have been reposing behind the sofa for a +day or so. My landlady's anemic daughter (as Ollendorff would +have expressed it), though commendably neat, had a lordly, +careless manner of approaching her domestic duties. Or it might +even be resting delicately poised on its point by the side of the +table-leg, and when picked up show a gaping, inefficient beak +which would have discouraged any man of literary instincts. But +not me! "Never mind. This will do." + +O days without guile! If anybody had told me then that a devoted +household, having a generally exaggerated idea of my talents and +importance, would be put into a state of tremor and flurry by the +fuss I would make because of a suspicion that somebody had +touched my sacrosanct pen of authorship, I would have never +deigned as much as the contemptuous smile of unbelief. There are +imaginings too unlikely for any kind of notice, too wild for +indulgence itself, too absurd for a smile. Perhaps, had that +seer of the future been a friend, I should have been secretly +saddened. "Alas!" I would have thought, looking at him with an +unmoved face, "the poor fellow is going mad." + +I would have been, without doubt, saddened; for in this world +where the journalists read the signs of the sky, and the wind of +heaven itself, blowing where it listeth, does so under the +prophetical management of the meteorological office, but where +the secret of human hearts cannot be captured by prying or +praying, it was infinitely more likely that the sanest of my +friends should nurse the germ of incipient madness than that I +should turn into a writer of tales. + +To survey with wonder the changes of one's own self is a +fascinating pursuit for idle hours. The field is so wide, the +surprises so varied, the subject so full of unprofitable but +curious hints as to the work of unseen forces, that one does not +weary easily of it. I am not speaking here of megalomaniacs who +rest uneasy under the crown of their unbounded conceit--who +really never rest in this world, and when out of it go on +fretting and fuming on the straitened circumstances of their last +habitation, where all men must lie in obscure equality. Neither +am I thinking of those ambitious minds who, always looking +forward to some aim of aggrandizement, can spare no time for a +detached, impersonal glance upon them selves. + +And that's a pity. They are unlucky. These two kinds, together +with the much larger band of the totally unimaginative, of those +unfortunate beings in whose empty and unseeing gaze (as a great +French writer has put it) "the whole universe vanishes into blank +nothingness," miss, perhaps, the true task of us men whose day is +short on this earth, the abode of conflicting opinions. The +ethical view of the universe involves us at last in so many cruel +and absurd contradictions, where the last vestiges of faith, +hope, charity, and even of reason itself, seem ready to perish, +that I have come to suspect that the aim of creation cannot be +ethical at all. I would fondly believe that its object is purely +spectacular: a spectacle for awe, love, adoration, or hate, if +you like, but in this view--and in this view alone--never for +despair! Those visions, delicious or poignant, are a moral end +in themselves. The rest is our affair--the laughter, the tears, +the tenderness, the indignation, the high tranquillity of a +steeled heart, the detached curiosity of a subtle mind--that's +our affair! And the unwearied self-forgetful attention to every +phase of the living universe reflected in our consciousness may +be our appointed task on this earth--a task in which fate has +perhaps engaged nothing of us except our conscience, gifted with +a voice in order to bear true testimony to the visible wonder, +the haunting terror, the infinite passion, and the illimitable +serenity; to the supreme law and the abiding mystery of the +sublime spectacle. + +Chi lo sa? It may be true. In this view there is room for every +religion except for the inverted creed of impiety, the mask and +cloak of arid despair; for every joy and every sorrow, for every +fair dream, for every charitable hope. The great aim is to +remain true to the emotions called out of the deep encircled by +the firmament of stars, whose infinite numbers and awful +distances may move us to laughter or tears (was it the Walrus or +the Carpenter, in the poem, who "wept to see such quantities of +sand"?), or, again, to a properly steeled heart, may matter +nothing at all. + +The casual quotation, which had suggested itself out of a poem +full of merit, leads me to remark that in the conception of a +purely spectacular universe, where inspiration of every sort has +a rational existence, the artist of every kind finds a natural +place; and among them the poet as the seer par excellence. Even +the writer of prose, who in his less noble and more toilsome task +should be a man with the steeled heart, is worthy of a place, +providing he looks on with undimmed eyes and keeps laughter out +of his voice, let who will laugh or cry. Yes! Even he, the +prose artist of fiction, which after all is but truth often +dragged out of a well and clothed in the painted robe of imagined +phrases--even he has his place among kings, demagogues, priests, +charlatans, dukes, giraffes, cabinet ministers, Fabians, +bricklayers, apostles, ants, scientists, Kafirs, soldiers, +sailors, elephants, lawyers, dandies, microbes, and +constellations of a universe whose amazing spectacle is a moral +end in itself. + +Here I perceive (without speaking offense) the reader assuming a +subtle expression, as if the cat were out of the bag. I take the +novelist's freedom to observe the reader's mind formulating the +exclamation: "That's it! The fellow talks pro domo." + +Indeed it was not the intention! When I shouldered the bag I was +not aware of the cat inside. But, after all, why not? The fair +courtyards of the House of Art are thronged by many humble +retainers. And there is no retainer so devoted as he who is +allowed to sit on the doorstep. The fellows who have got inside +are apt to think too much of themselves. This last remark, I beg +to state, is not malicious within the definition of the law of +libel. It's fair comment on a matter of public interest. But +never mind. Pro domo. So be it. For his house tant que vous +voudrez. And yet in truth I was by no means anxious to justify +my existence. The attempt would have been not only needless and +absurd, but almost inconceivable, in a purely spectacular +universe, where no such disagreeable necessity can possibly +arise. It is sufficient for me to say (and I am saying it at +some length in these pages): J'ai vecu. I have existed, obscure +among the wonders and terrors of my time, as the Abbe Sieyes, the +original utterer of the quoted words, had managed to exist +through the violences, the crimes, and the enthusiasms of the +French Revolution. J'ai vecu, as I apprehend most of us manage +to exist, missing all along the varied forms of destruction by a +hair's-breadth, saving my body, that's clear, and perhaps my soul +also, but not without some damage here and there to the fine edge +of my conscience, that heirloom of the ages, of the race, of the +group, of the family, colourable and plastic, fashioned by the +words, the looks, the acts, and even by the silences and +abstentions surrounding one's childhood; tinged in a complete +scheme of delicate shades and crude colours by the inherited +traditions, beliefs, or prejudices--unaccountable, despotic, +persuasive, and often, in its texture, romantic. + +And often romantic! . . . The matter in hand, however, is to +keep these reminiscences from turning into confessions, a form of +literary activity discredited by Jean Jacques Rousseau on account +of the extreme thoroughness he brought to the work of justifying +his own existence; for that such was his purpose is palpably, +even grossly, visible to an unprejudiced eye. But then, you see, +the man was not a writer of fiction. He was an artless moralist, +as is clearly demonstrated by his anniversaries being celebrated +with marked emphasis by the heirs of the French Revolution, which +was not a political movement at all, but a great outburst of +morality. He had no imagination, as the most casual perusal of +"Emile" will prove. He was no novelist, whose first virtue is +the exact understanding of the limits traced by the reality of +his time to the play of his invention. Inspiration comes from +the earth, which has a past, a history, a future, not from the +cold and immutable heaven. A writer of imaginative prose (even +more than any other sort of artist) stands confessed in his +works. His conscience, his deeper sense of things, lawful and +unlawful, gives him his attitude before the world. Indeed, +everyone who puts pen to paper for the reading of strangers +(unless a moralist, who, generally speaking, has no conscience +except the one he is at pains to produce for the use of others) +can speak of nothing else. It is M. Anatole France, the most +eloquent and just of French prose-writers, who says that we must +recognize at last that, "failing the resolution to hold our +peace, we can only talk of ourselves." + +This remark, if I remember rightly, was made in the course of a +sparring match with the late Ferdinand Brunetiere over the +principles and rules of literary criticism. As was fitting for a +man to whom we owe the memorable saying, "The good critic is he +who relates the adventures of his soul among masterpieces," M. +Anatole France maintained that there were no rules and no +principles. And that may be very true. Rules, principles, and +standards die and vanish every day. Perhaps they are all dead +and vanished by this time. These, if ever, are the brave, free +days of destroyed landmarks, while the ingenious minds are busy +inventing the forms of the new beacons which, it is consoling to +think, will be set up presently in the old places. But what is +interesting to a writer is the possession of an inward certitude +that literary criticism will never die, for man (so variously +defined) is, before everything else, a critical animal. And as +long as distinguished minds are ready to treat it in the spirit +of high adventure literary criticism shall appeal to us with all +the charm and wisdom of a well-told tale of personal experience. + +For Englishmen especially, of all the races of the earth, a task, +any task, undertaken in an adventurous spirit acquires the merit +of romance. But the critics as a rule exhibit but little of an +adventurous spirit. They take risks, of course--one can hardly +live with out that. The daily bread is served out to us (however +sparingly) with a pinch of salt. Otherwise one would get sick of +the diet one prays for, and that would be not only improper, but +impious. From impiety of that or any other kind--save us! An +ideal of reserved manner, adhered to from a sense of proprieties, +from shyness, perhaps, or caution, or simply from weariness, +induces, I suspect, some writers of criticism to conceal the +adventurous side of their calling, and then the criticism becomes +a mere "notice," as it were, the relation of a journey where +nothing but the distances and the geology of a new country should +be set down; the glimpses of strange beasts, the dangers of flood +and field, the hairbreadth escapes, and the sufferings (oh, the +sufferings, too! I have no doubt of the sufferings) of the +traveller being carefully kept out; no shady spot, no fruitful +plant being ever mentioned either; so that the whole performance +looks like a mere feat of agility on the part of a trained pen +running in a desert. A cruel spectacle--a most deplorable +adventure! "Life," in the words of an immortal thinker of, I +should say, bucolic origin, but whose perishable name is lost to +the worship of posterity--"life is not all beer and skittles." +Neither is the writing of novels. It isn't, really. Je vous +donne ma parole d'honneur that it--is--not. Not ALL. I am thus +emphatic because some years ago, I remember, the daughter of a +general. . . . + +Sudden revelations of the profane world must have come now and +then to hermits in their cells, to the cloistered monks of middle +ages, to lonely sages, men of science, reformers; the revelations +of the world's superficial judgment, shocking to the souls +concentrated upon their own bitter labour in the cause of +sanctity, or of knowledge, or of temperance, let us say, or of +art, if only the art of cracking jokes or playing the flute. And +thus this general's daughter came to me--or I should say one of +the general's daughters did. There were three of these bachelor +ladies, of nicely graduated ages, who held a neighbouring +farm-house in a united and more or less military occupation. The +eldest warred against the decay of manners in the village +children, and executed frontal attacks upon the village mothers +for the conquest of courtesies. It sounds futile, but it was +really a war for an idea. The second skirmished and scouted all +over the country; and it was that one who pushed a reconnaissance +right to my very table--I mean the one who wore stand-up collars. + +She was really calling upon my wife in the soft spirit of +afternoon friendliness, but with her usual martial determination. +She marched into my room swinging her stick . . . but no--I +mustn't exaggerate. It is not my specialty. I am not a +humoristic writer. In all soberness, then, all I am certain of +is that she had a stick to swing. + +No ditch or wall encompassed my abode. The window was open; the +door, too, stood open to that best friend of my work, the warm, +still sunshine of the wide fields. They lay around me infinitely +helpful, but, truth to say, I had not known for weeks whether the +sun shone upon the earth and whether the stars above still moved +on their appointed courses. I was just then giving up some days +of my allotted span to the last chapters of the novel "Nostromo," +a tale of an imaginary (but true) seaboard, which is still +mentioned now and again, and indeed kindly, sometimes in +connection with the word "failure" and sometimes in conjunction +with the word "astonishing." I have no opinion on this +discrepancy. It's the sort of difference that can never be +settled. All I know is that, for twenty months, neglecting the +common joys of life that fall to the lot of the humblest on this +earth, I had, like the prophet of old, "wrestled with the Lord" +for my creation, for the headlands of the coast, for the darkness +of the Placid Gulf, the light on the snows, the clouds in the +sky, and for the breath of life that had to be blown into the +shapes of men and women, of Latin and Saxon, of Jew and Gentile. +These are, perhaps, strong words, but it is difficult to +characterize other wise the intimacy and the strain of a creative +effort in which mind and will and conscience are engaged to the +full, hour after hour, day after day, away from the world, and to +the exclusion of all that makes life really lovable and +gentle--something for which a material parallel can only be found +in the everlasting sombre stress of the westward winter passage +round Cape Horn. For that, too, is the wrestling of men with the +might of their Creator, in a great isolation from the world, +without the amenities and consolations of life, a lonely struggle +under a sense of overmatched littleness, for no reward that could +be adequate, but for the mere winning of a longitude. Yet a +certain longitude, once won, cannot be disputed. The sun and the +stars and the shape of your earth are the witnesses of your gain; +whereas a handful of pages, no matter how much you have made them +your own, are at best but an obscure and questionable spoil. +Here they are. "Failure"--"Astonishing": take your choice; or +perhaps both, or neither--a mere rustle and flutter of pieces of +paper settling down in the night, and undistinguishable, like the +snowflakes of a great drift destined to melt away in sunshine. + +"How do you do?" + +It was the greeting of the general's daughter. I had heard +nothing--no rustle, no footsteps. I had felt only a moment +before a sort of premonition of evil; I had the sense of an +inauspicious presence--just that much warning and no more; and +then came the sound of the voice and the jar as of a terrible +fall from a great height--a fall, let us say, from the highest of +the clouds floating in gentle procession over the fields in the +faint westerly air of that July afternoon. I picked myself up +quickly, of course; in other words, I jumped up from my chair +stunned and dazed, every nerve quivering with the pain of being +uprooted out of one world and flung down into another--perfectly +civil. + +"Oh! How do you do? Won't you sit down?" + +That's what I said. This horrible but, I assure you, perfectly +true reminiscence tells you more than a whole volume of +confessions a la Jean Jacques Rousseau would do. Observe! I +didn't howl at her, or start up setting furniture, or throw +myself on the floor and kick, or allow myself to hint in any +other way at the appalling magnitude of the disaster. The whole +world of Costaguana (the country, you may remember, of my +seaboard tale), men, women, headlands, houses, mountains, town, +campo(there was not a single brick, stone, or grain of sand of +its soil I had not placed in position with my own hands); all the +history, geography, politics, finance; the wealth of Charles +Gould's silver-mine, and the splendour of the magnificent Capataz +de Cargadores, whose name, cried out in the night (Dr. Monygham +heard it pass over his head--in Linda Viola's voice), dominated +even after death the dark gulf containing his conquests of +treasure and love--all that had come down crashing about my ears. + +I felt I could never pick up the pieces--and in that very moment +I was saying, "Won't you sit down?" + +The sea is strong medicine. Behold what the quarter-deck +training even in a merchant ship will do! This episode should +give you a new view of the English and Scots seamen (a +much-caricatured folk) who had the last say in the formation of +my character. One is nothing if not modest, but in this disaster +I think I have done some honour to their simple teaching. "Won't +you sit down?" Very fair; very fair, indeed. She sat down. Her +amused glance strayed all over the room. + +There were pages of MS. on the table and under the table, a batch +of typed copy on a chair, single leaves had fluttered away into +distant corners; there were there living pages, pages scored and +wounded, dead pages that would be burned at the end of the +day--the litter of a cruel battle-field, of a long, long, and +desperate fray. Long! I suppose I went to bed sometimes, and +got up the same number of times. Yes, I suppose I slept, and ate +the food put before me, and talked connectedly to my household on +suitable occasions. But I had never been aware of the even flow +of daily life, made easy and noiseless for me by a silent, +watchful, tireless affection. Indeed, it seemed to me that I had +been sitting at that table surrounded by the litter of a +desperate fray for days and nights on end. It seemed so, because +of the intense weariness of which that interruption had made me +aware--the awful disenchantment of a mind realizing suddenly the +futility of an enormous task, joined to a bodily fatigue such as +no ordinary amount of fairly heavy physical labour could ever +account for. I have carried bags of wheat on my back, bent +almost double under a ship's deck-beams, from six in the morning +till six in the evening (with an hour and a half off for meals), +so I ought to know. + +And I love letters. I am jealous of their honour and concerned +for the dignity and comeliness of their service. I was, most +likely, the only writer that neat lady had ever caught in the +exercise of his craft, and it distressed me not to be able to +remember when it was that I dressed myself last, and how. No +doubt that would be all right in essentials. The fortune of the +house included a pair of gray-blue watchful eyes that would see +to that. But I felt, somehow, as grimy as a Costaguana lepero +after a day's fighting in the streets, rumpled all over and +dishevelled down to my very heels. And I am afraid I blinked +stupidly. All this was bad for the honour of letters and the +dignity of their service. Seen indistinctly through the dust of +my collapsed universe, the good lady glanced about the room with +a slightly amused serenity. And she was smiling. What on earth +was she smiling at? She remarked casually: + +"I am afraid I interrupted you." + +"Not at all." + +She accepted the denial in perfect good faith. And it was +strictly true. Interrupted--indeed! She had robbed me of at +least twenty lives, each infinitely more poignant and real than +her own, because informed with passion, possessed of convictions, +involved in great affairs created out of my own substance for an +anxiously meditated end. + +She remained silent for a while, then said, with a last glance +all round at the litter of the fray: + +"And you sit like this here writing your--your . . ." + +"I--what? Oh, yes! I sit here all day." + +"It must be perfectly delightful." + +I suppose that, being no longer very young, I might have been on +the verge of having a stroke; but she had left her dog in the +porch, and my boy's dog, patrolling the field in front, had +espied him from afar. He came on straight and swift like a +cannon-ball, and the noise of the fight, which burst suddenly +upon our ears, was more than enough to scare away a fit of +apoplexy. We went out hastily and separated the gallant animals. +Afterward I told the lady where she would find my wife--just +round the corner, under the trees. She nodded and went off with +her dog, leaving me appalled before the death and devastation she +had lightly made--and with the awfully instructive sound of the +word "delightful" lingering in my ears. + +Nevertheless, later on, I duly escorted her to the field gate. I +wanted to be civil, of course (what are twenty lives in a mere +novel that one should be rude to a lady on their account?), but +mainly, to adopt the good, sound Ollendorffian style, because I +did not want the dog of the general's daughter to fight again +(encore) with the faithful dog of my infant son (mon petit +garcon).--Was I afraid that the dog of the general's daughter +would be able to overcome (vaincre) the dog of my child?--No, I +was not afraid. . . . But away with the Ollendorff method. How +ever appropriate and seemingly unavoidable when I touch upon +anything appertaining to the lady, it is most unsuitable to the +origin, character, and history of the dog; for the dog was the +gift to the child from a man for whom words had anything but an +Ollendorffian value, a man almost childlike in the impulsive +movements of his untutored genius, the most single-minded of +verbal impressionists, using his great gifts of straight feeling +and right expression with a fine sincerity and a strong if, +perhaps, not fully conscious conviction. His art did not obtain, +I fear, all the credit its unsophisticated inspiration deserved. +I am alluding to the late Stephen Crane, the author of "The Red +Badge of Courage," a work of imagination which found its short +moment of celebrity in the last decade of the departed century. +Other books followed. Not many. He had not the time. It was an +individual and complete talent which obtained but a grudging, +somewhat supercilious recognition from the world at large. For +himself one hesitates to regret his early death. Like one of the +men in his "Open Boat," one felt that he was of those whom fate +seldom allows to make a safe landing after much toil and +bitterness at the oar. I confess to an abiding affection for +that energetic, slight, fragile, intensely living and transient +figure. He liked me, even before we met, on the strength of a +page or two of my writing, and after we had met I am glad to +think he liked me still. He used to point out to me with great +earnestness, and even with some severity, that "a boy OUGHT to +have a dog." I suspect that he was shocked at my neglect of +parental duties. + +Ultimately it was he who provided the dog. Shortly afterward, +one day, after playing with the child on the rug for an hour or +so with the most intense absorption, he raised his head and +declared firmly, "I shall teach your boy to ride." That was not +to be. He was not given the time. + +But here is the dog--an old dog now. Broad and low on his bandy +paws, with a black head on a white body and a ridiculous black +spot at the other end of him, he provokes, when he walks abroad, +smiles not altogether unkind. Grotesque and engaging in the +whole of his appearance, his usual attitudes are meek, but his +temperament discloses itself unexpectedly pugnacious in the +presence of his kind. As he lies in the firelight, his head well +up, and a fixed, far away gaze directed at the shadows of the +room, he achieves a striking nobility of pose in the calm +consciousness of an unstained life. He has brought up one baby, +and now, after seeing his first charge off to school, he is +bringing up another with the same conscientious devotion, but +with a more deliberate gravity of manner, the sign of greater +wisdom and riper experience, but also of rheumatism, I fear. +From the morning bath to the evening ceremonies of the cot, you +attend the little two-legged creature of your adoption, being +yourself treated in the exercise of your duties with every +possible regard, with infinite consideration, by every person in +the house--even as I myself am treated; only you deserve it more. + +The general's daughter would tell you that it must be "perfectly +delightful." + +Aha! old dog. She never heard you yelp with acute pain (it's +that poor left ear) the while, with incredible self-command, you +preserve a rigid immobility for fear of overturning the little +two-legged creature. She has never seen your resigned smile when +the little two-legged creature, interrogated, sternly, "What are +you doing to the good dog?" answers, with a wide, innocent stare: +"Nothing. Only loving him, mamma dear!" + +The general's daughter does not know the secret terms of +self-imposed tasks, good dog, the pain that may lurk in the very +rewards of rigid self-command. But we have lived together many +years. We have grown older, too; and though our work is not +quite done yet we may indulge now and then in a little +introspection before the fire--meditate on the art of bringing up +babies and on the perfect delight of writing tales where so many +lives come and go at the cost of one which slips imperceptibly +away. + + +VI + +In the retrospect of a life which had, besides its preliminary +stage of childhood and early youth, two distinct developments, +and even two distinct elements, such as earth and water, for its +successive scenes, a certain amount of naiveness is unavoidable. +I am conscious of it in these pages. This remark is put forward +in no apologetic spirit. As years go by and the number of pages +grows steadily, the feeling grows upon one, too, that one can +write only for friends. Then why should one put them to the +necessity of protesting (as a friend would do) that no apology is +necessary, or put, perchance, into their heads the doubt of one's +discretion? So much as to the care due to those friends whom a +word here, a line there, a fortunate page of just feeling in the +right place, some happy simplicity, or even some lucky subtlety, +has drawn from the great multitude of fellow beings even as a +fish is drawn from the depths of the sea. Fishing is notoriously +(I am talking now of the deep sea) a matter of luck. As to one's +enemies, they will take care of themselves. + +There is a gentleman, for instance, who, metaphorically speaking, +jumps upon me with both feet. This image has no grace, but it is +exceedingly apt to the occasion--to the several occasions. I +don't know precisely how long he has been indulging in that +intermittent exercise, whose seasons are ruled by the custom of +the publishing trade. Somebody pointed him out (in printed +shape, of course) to my attention some time ago, and straightway +I experienced a sort of reluctant affection for that robust man. +He leaves not a shred of my substance untrodden: for the writer's +substance is his writing; the rest of him is but a vain shadow, +cherished or hated on uncritical grounds. Not a shred! Yet the +sentiment owned to is not a freak of affectation or perversity. +It has a deeper, and, I venture to think, a more estimable origin +than the caprice of emotional lawlessness. It is, indeed, +lawful, in so much that it is given (reluctantly) for a +consideration, for several considerations. There is that +robustness, for instance, so often the sign of good moral +balance. That's a consideration. It is not, indeed, pleasant to +be stamped upon, but the very thoroughness of the operation, +implying not only a careful reading, but some real insight into +work whose qualities and defects, whatever they may be, are not +so much on the surface, is something to be thankful for in view +of the fact that it may happen to one's work to be condemned +without being read at all. This is the most fatuous adventure +that can well happen to a writer venturing his soul among +criticisms. It can do one no harm, of course, but it is +disagreeable. It is disagreeable in the same way as discovering +a three-card-trick man among a decent lot of folk in a +third-class compartment. The open impudence of the whole +transaction, appealing insidiously to the folly and credulity of +man kind, the brazen, shameless patter, proclaiming the fraud +openly while insisting on the fairness of the game, give one a +feeling of sickening disgust. The honest violence of a plain man +playing a fair game fairly--even if he means to knock you +over--may appear shocking, but it remains within the pale of +decency. Damaging as it may be, it is in no sense offensive. +One may well feel some regard for honesty, even if practised upon +one's own vile body. But it is very obvious that an enemy of +that sort will not be stayed by explanations or placated by +apologies. Were I to advance the plea of youth in excuse of the +naiveness to be found in these pages, he would be likely to say +"Bosh!" in a column and a half of fierce print. Yet a writer is +no older than his first published book, and, not withstanding the +vain appearances of decay which attend us in this transitory +life, I stand here with the wreath of only fifteen short summers +on my brow. + +With the remark, then, that at such tender age some naiveness of +feeling and expression is excusable, I proceed to admit that, +upon the whole, my previous state of existence was not a good +equipment for a literary life. Perhaps I should not have used the +word literary. That word presupposes an intimacy of acquaintance +with letters, a turn of mind, and a manner of feeling to which I +dare lay no claim. I only love letters; but the love of letters +does not make a literary man, any more than the love of the sea +makes a seaman. And it is very possible, too, that I love the +letters in the same way a literary man may love the sea he looks +at from the shore--a scene of great endeavour and of great +achievements changing the face of the world, the great open way +to all sorts of undiscovered countries. No, perhaps I had better +say that the life at sea--and I don't mean a mere taste of it, +but a good broad span of years, something that really counts as +real service--is not, upon the whole, a good equipment for a +writing life. God forbid, though, that I should be thought of as +denying my masters of the quarter-deck. I am not capable of that +sort of apostasy. I have confessed my attitude of piety toward +their shades in three or four tales, and if any man on earth more +than another needs to be true to himself as he hopes to be saved, +it is certainly the writer of fiction. + +What I meant to say, simply, is that the quarter-deck training +does not prepare one sufficiently for the reception of literary +criticism. Only that, and no more. But this defect is not +without gravity. If it be permissible to twist, invert, adapt +(and spoil) Mr. Anatole France's definition of a good critic, +then let us say that the good author is he who contemplates +without marked joy or excessive sorrow the adventures of his soul +among criticisms. Far be from me the intention to mislead an +attentive public into the belief that there is no criticism at +sea. That would be dishonest, and even impolite. Ever thing can +be found at sea, according to the spirit of your quest--strife, +peace, romance, naturalism of the most pronounced kind, ideals, +boredom, disgust, inspiration--and every conceivable opportunity, +including the opportunity to make a fool of yourself, exactly as +in the pursuit of literature. But the quarter-deck criticism is +somewhat different from literary criticism. This much they have +in common, that before the one and the other the answering back, +as a general rule, does not pay. + +Yes, you find criticism at sea, and even appreciation--I tell you +everything is to be found on salt water--criticism generally +impromptu, and always viva voce, which is the outward, obvious +difference from the literary operation of that kind, with +consequent freshness and vigour which may be lacking in the +printed word. With appreciation, which comes at the end, when +the critic and the criticised are about to part, it is otherwise. +The sea appreciation of one's humble talents has the permanency +of the written word, seldom the charm of variety, is formal in +its phrasing. There the literary master has the superiority, +though he, too, can in effect but say--and often says it in the +very phrase--"I can highly recommend." Only usually he uses the +word "We," there being some occult virtue in the first person +plural which makes it specially fit for critical and royal +declarations. I have a small handful of these sea appreciations, +signed by various masters, yellowing slowly in my writing-table's +left hand drawer, rustling under my reverent touch, like a +handful of dry leaves plucked for a tender memento from the tree +of knowledge. Strange! It seems that it is for these few bits +of paper, headed by the names of a few Scots and English +shipmasters, that I have faced the astonished indignations, the +mockeries, and the reproaches of a sort hard to bear for a boy of +fifteen; that I have been charged with the want of patriotism, +the want of sense, and the want of heart, too; that I went +through agonies of self-conflict and shed secret tears not a few, +and had the beauties of the Furca Pass spoiled for me, and have +been called an "incorrigible Don Quixote," in allusion to the +book-born madness of the knight. For that spoil! They rustle, +those bits of paper--some dozen of them in all. In that faint, +ghostly sound there live the memories of twenty years, the voices +of rough men now no more, the strong voice of the everlasting +winds, and the whisper of a mysterious spell, the murmur of the +great sea, which must have somehow reached my inland cradle and +entered my unconscious ear, like that formula of Mohammedan faith +the Mussulman father whispers into the ear of his new-born +infant, making him one of the faithful almost with his first +breath. I do not know whether I have been a good seaman, but I +know I have been a very faithful one. And, after all, there is +that handful of "characters" from various ships to prove that all +these years have not been altogether a dream. There they are, +brief, and monotonous in tone, but as suggestive bits of writing +to me as any inspired page to be found in literature. But then, +you see, I have been called romantic. Well, that can't be +helped. But stay. I seem to remember that I have been called a +realist, also. And as that charge, too, can be made out, let us +try to live up to it, at whatever cost, for a change. With this +end in view, I will confide to you coyly, and only because there +is no one about to see my blushes by the light of the midnight +lamp, that these suggestive bits of quarter-deck appreciation, +one and all, contain the words "strictly sober." + +Did I overhear a civil murmur, "That's very gratifying, to be +sure?" Well, yes, it is gratifying--thank you. It is at least +as gratifying to be certified sober as to be certified romantic, +though such certificates would not qualify one for the +secretaryship of a temperance association or for the post of +official troubadour to some lordly democratic institution such as +the London County Council, for instance. The above prosaic +reflection is put down here only in order to prove the general +sobriety of my judgment in mundane affairs. I make a point of it +because a couple of years ago, a certain short story of mine +being published in a French translation, a Parisian critic--I am +almost certain it was M. Gustave Kahn in the "Gil Blas"--giving +me a short notice, summed up his rapid impression of the writer's +quality in the words un puissant reveur. So be it! Who could +cavil at the words of a friendly reader? Yet perhaps not such an +unconditional dreamer as all that. I will make bold to say that +neither at sea nor ashore have I ever lost the sense of +responsibility. There is more than one sort of intoxication. +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. It is but a +maudlin and indecent verity that comes out through the strength +of wine. I have tried to be a sober worker all my life--all my +two lives. I did so from taste, no doubt, having an instinctive +horror of losing my sense of full self-possession, but also from +artistic conviction. Yet there are so many pitfalls on each side +of the true path that, having gone some way, and feeling a little +battered and weary, as a middle-aged traveller will from the mere +daily difficulties of the march, I ask myself whether I have kept +always, always faithful to that sobriety where in there is power +and truth and peace. + +As to my sea sobriety, that is quite properly certified under the +sign-manual of several trustworthy shipmasters of some standing +in their time. I seem to hear your polite murmur that "Surely +this might have been taken for granted." Well, no. It might not +have been. That August academical body, the Marine Department of +the Board of Trade, takes nothing for granted in the granting of +its learned degrees. By its regulations issued under the first +Merchant Shipping Act, the very word SOBER must be written, or a +whole sackful, a ton, a mountain of the most enthusiastic +appreciation will avail you nothing. The door of the examination +rooms shall remain closed to your tears and entreaties. The most +fanatical advocate of temperance could not be more pitilessly +fierce in his rectitude than the Marine Department of the Board +of Trade. As I have been face to face at various times with all +the examiners of the Port of London in my generation, there can +be no doubt as to the force and the continuity of my +abstemiousness. Three of them were examiners in seamanship, and +it was my fate to be delivered into the hands of each of them at +proper intervals of sea service. The first of all, tall, spare, +with a perfectly white head and mustache, a quiet, kindly manner, +and an air of benign intelligence, must, I am forced to conclude, +have been unfavourably impressed by something in my appearance. +His old, thin hands loosely clasped resting on his crossed legs, +he began by an elementary question, in a mild voice, and went on, +went on. . . . It lasted for hours, for hours. Had I been a +strange microbe with potentialities of deadly mischief to the +Merchant Service I could not have been submitted to a more +microscopic examination. Greatly reassured by his apparent +benevolence, I had been at first very alert in my answers. But +at length the feeling of my brain getting addled crept upon me. +And still the passionless process went on, with a sense of untold +ages having been spent already on mere preliminaries. Then I got +frightened. I was not frightened of being plucked; that +eventuality did not even present itself to my mind. It was +something much more serious and weird. "This ancient person," I +said to myself, terrified, "is so near his grave that he must +have lost all notion of time. He is considering this examination +in terms of eternity. It is all very well for him. His race is +run. But I may find myself coming out of this room into the +world of men a stranger, friendless, forgotten by my very +landlady, even were I able after this endless experience to +remember the way to my hired home." This statement is not so +much of a verbal exaggeration as may be supposed. Some very +queer thoughts passed through my head while I was considering my +answers; thoughts which had nothing to do with seamanship, nor +yet with anything reasonable known to this earth. I verily +believe that at times I was light-headed in a sort of languid +way. At last there fell a silence, and that, too, seemed to last +for ages, while, bending over his desk, the examiner wrote out my +pass-slip slowly with a noiseless pen. He extended the scrap of +paper to me without a word, inclined his white head gravely to my +parting bow. . . . + +When I got out of the room I felt limply flat, like a squeezed +lemon, and the doorkeeper in his glass cage, where I stopped to +get my hat and tip him a shilling, said: + +"Well! I thought you were never coming out." + +"How long have I been in there?" I asked, faintly. + +He pulled out his watch. + +"He kept you, sir, just under three hours. I don't think this +ever happened with any of the gentlemen before." + +It was only when I got out of the building that I began to walk +on air. And the human animal being averse from change and timid +before the unknown, I said to myself that I really would not mind +being examined by the same man on a future occasion. But when +the time of ordeal came round again the doorkeeper let me into +another room, with the now familiar paraphernalia of models of +ships and tackle, a board for signals on the wall, a big, long +table covered with official forms and having an unrigged mast +fixed to the edge. The solitary tenant was unknown to me by +sight, though not by reputation, which was simply execrable. +Short and sturdy, as far as I could judge, clad in an old brown +morning-suit, he sat leaning on his elbow, his hand shading his +eyes, and half averted from the chair I was to occupy on the +other side of the table. He was motionless, mysterious, remote, +enigmatical, with something mournful, too, in the pose, like that +statue of Giugliano (I think) de Medici shading his face on the +tomb by Michael Angelo, though, of course, he was far, far from +being beautiful. He began by trying to make me talk nonsense. +But I had been warned of that fiendish trait, and contradicted +him with great assurance. After a while he left off. So far +good. But his immobility, the thick elbow on the table, the +abrupt, unhappy voice, the shaded and averted face grew more and +more impressive. He kept inscrutably silent for a moment, and +then, placing me in a ship of a certain size, at sea, under +conditions of weather, season, locality, etc.--all very clear and +precise--ordered me to execute a certain manoeuvre. Before I was +half through with it he did some material damage to the ship. +Directly I had grappled with the difficulty he caused another to +present itself, and when that, too, was met he stuck another ship +before me, creating a very dangerous situation. I felt slightly +outraged by this ingenuity in piling trouble upon a man. + +"I wouldn't have got into that mess," I suggested, mildly. "I +could have seen that ship before." + +He never stirred the least bit. + +"No, you couldn't. The weather's thick." + +"Oh! I didn't know," I apologized blankly. + +I suppose that after all I managed to stave off the smash with +sufficient approach to verisimilitude, and the ghastly business +went on. You must understand that the scheme of the test he was +applying to me was, I gathered, a homeward passage--the sort of +passage I would not wish to my bitterest enemy. That imaginary +ship seemed to labour under a most comprehensive curse. It's no +use enlarging on these never-ending misfortunes; suffice it to +say that long before the end I would have welcomed with gratitude +an opportunity to exchange into the Flying Dutchman. Finally he +shoved me into the North Sea (I suppose) and provided me with a +lee shore with outlying sand-banks--the Dutch coast, presumably. +Distance, eight miles. The evidence of such implacable animosity +deprived me of speech for quite half a minute. + +"Well," he said--for our pace had been very smart, indeed, till +then. + +"I will have to think a little, sir." + +"Doesn't look as if there were much time to think," he muttered, +sardonically, from under his hand. + +"No, sir," I said, with some warmth. "Not on board a ship, I +could see. But so many accidents have happened that I really +can't remember what there's left for me to work with." + +Still half averted, and with his eyes concealed, he made +unexpectedly a grunting remark. + +"You've done very well." + +"Have I the two anchors at the bow, sir?" I asked. + +"Yes." + +I prepared myself then, as a last hope for the ship, to let them +both go in the most effectual manner, when his infernal system of +testing resourcefulness came into play again. + +"But there's only one cable. You've lost the other." + +It was exasperating. + +"Then I would back them, if I could, and tail the heaviest hawser +on board on the end of the chain before letting go, and if she +parted from that, which is quite likely, I would just do nothing. + +She would have to go." + +"Nothing more to do, eh?" + +"No, sir. I could do no more." + +He gave a bitter half-laugh. + +"You could always say your prayers." + +He got up, stretched himself, and yawned slightly. It was a +sallow, strong, unamiable face. He put me, in a surly, bored +fashion, through the usual questions as to lights and signals, +and I escaped from the room thank fully--passed! Forty minutes! +And again I walked on air along Tower Hill, where so many good +men had lost their heads because, I suppose, they were not +resourceful enough to save them. And in my heart of hearts I had +no objection to meeting that examiner once more when the third +and last ordeal became due in another year or so. I even hoped I +should. I knew the worst of him now, and forty minutes is not an +unreasonable time. Yes, I distinctly hoped. . . . + +But not a bit of it. When I presented my self to be examined for +master the examiner who received me was short, plump, with a +round, soft face in gray, fluffy whiskers, and fresh, loquacious +lips. + +He commenced operations with an easy going "Let's see. H'm. +Suppose you tell me all you know of charter-parties." He kept it +up in that style all through, wandering off in the shape of +comment into bits out of his own life, then pulling himself up +short and returning to the business in hand. It was very +interesting. "What's your idea of a jury-rudder now?" he +queried, suddenly, at the end of an instructive anecdote bearing +upon a point of stowage. + +I warned him that I had no experience of a lost rudder at sea, +and gave him two classical examples of makeshifts out of a +text-book. In exchange he described to me a jury-rudder he had +invented himself years before, when in command of a +three-thousand-ton steamer. It was, I declare, the cleverest +contrivance imaginable. "May be of use to you some day," he +concluded. "You will go into steam presently. Everybody goes +into steam." + +There he was wrong. I never went into steam--not really. If I +only live long enough I shall become a bizarre relic of a dead +barbarism, a sort of monstrous antiquity, the only seaman of the +dark ages who had never gone into steam--not really. + +Before the examination was over he imparted to me a few +interesting details of the transport service in the time of the +Crimean War. + +"The use of wire rigging became general about that time, too," he +observed. "I was a very young master then. That was before you +were born." + +"Yes, sir. I am of the year of 1857." + +"The Mutiny year," he commented, as if to himself, adding in a +louder tone that his ship happened then to be in the Gulf of +Bengal, employed under a government charter. + +Clearly the transport service had been the making of this +examiner, who so unexpectedly had given me an insight into his +existence, awakening in me the sense of the continuity of that +sea life into which I had stepped from outside; giving a touch of +human intimacy to the machinery of official relations. I felt +adopted. His experience was for me, too, as though he had been +an ancestor. + +Writing my long name (it has twelve letters) with laborious care +on the slip of blue paper, he remarked: + +"You are of Polish extraction." + +"Born there, sir." + +He laid down the pen and leaned back to look at me as it were for +the first time. + +"Not many of your nationality in our service, I should think. I +never remember meeting one either before or after I left the sea. +Don't remember ever hearing of one. An inland people, aren't +you?" + +I said yes--very much so. We were remote from the sea not only +by situation, but also from a complete absence of indirect +association, not being a commercial nation at all, but purely +agricultural. He made then the quaint reflection that it was "a +long way for me to come out to begin a sea life"; as if sea life +were not precisely a life in which one goes a long way from home. + +I told him, smiling, that no doubt I could have found a ship much +nearer my native place, but I had thought to myself that if I was +to be a seaman, then I would be a British seaman and no other. +It was a matter of deliberate choice. + +He nodded slightly at that; and, as he kept on looking at me +interrogatively, I enlarged a little, confessing that I had spent +a little time on the way in the Mediterranean and in the West +Indies. I did not want to present myself to the British Merchant +Service in an altogether green state. It was no use telling him +that my mysterious vocation was so strong that my very wild oats +had to be sown at sea. It was the exact truth, but he would not +have understood the somewhat exceptional psychology of my +sea-going, I fear. + +"I suppose you've never come across one of your countrymen at +sea. Have you, now?" + +I admitted I never had. The examiner had given himself up to the +spirit of gossiping idleness. For myself, I was in no haste to +leave that room. Not in the least. The era of examinations was +over. I would never again see that friendly man who was a +professional ancestor, a sort of grandfather in the craft. +Moreover, I had to wait till he dismissed me, and of that there +was no sign. As he remained silent, looking at me, I added: + +"But I have heard of one, some years ago. He seems to have been +a boy serving his time on board a Liverpool ship, if I am not +mistaken." + +"What was his name?" + +I told him. + +"How did you say that?" he asked, puckering up his eyes at the +uncouth sound. + +I repeated the name very distinctly. + +"How do you spell it?" + +I told him. He moved his head at the impracticable nature of +that name, and observed: + +"It's quite as long as your own--isn't it?" + +There was no hurry. I had passed for master, and I had all the +rest of my life before me to make the best of it. That seemed a +long time. I went leisurely through a small mental calculation, +and said: + +"Not quite. Shorter by two letters, sir." + +"Is it?" The examiner pushed the signed blue slip across the +table to me, and rose from his chair. Somehow this seemed a very +abrupt ending of our relations, and I felt almost sorry to part +from that excellent man, who was master of a ship before the +whisper of the sea had reached my cradle. He offered me his hand +and wished me well. He even made a few steps toward the door +with me, and ended with good-natured advice. + +"I don't know what may be your plans, but you ought to go into +steam. When a man has got his master's certificate it's the +proper time. If I were you I would go into steam." + +I thanked him, and shut the door behind me definitely on the era +of examinations. But that time I did not walk on air, as on the +first two occasions. I walked across the hill of many beheadings +with measured steps. It was a fact, I said to myself, that I was +now a British master mariner beyond a doubt. It was not that I +had an exaggerated sense of that very modest achievement, with +which, however, luck, opportunity, or any extraneous influence +could have had nothing to do. That fact, satisfactory and +obscure in itself, had for me a certain ideal significance. It +was an answer to certain outspoken scepticism and even to some +not very kind aspersions. I had vindicated myself from what had +been cried upon as a stupid obstinacy or a fantastic caprice. I +don't mean to say that a whole country had been convulsed by my +desire to go to sea. But for a boy between fifteen and sixteen, +sensitive enough, in all conscience, the commotion of his little +world had seemed a very considerable thing indeed. So +considerable that, absurdly enough, the echoes of it linger to +this day. I catch myself in hours of solitude and retrospect +meeting arguments and charges made thirty-five years ago by +voices now forever still; finding things to say that an assailed +boy could not have found, simply because of the mysteriousness of +his impulses to himself. I understood no more than the people who +called upon me to explain myself. There was no precedent. I +verily believe mine was the only case of a boy of my nationality +and antecedents taking a, so to speak, standing jump out of his +racial surroundings and associations. For you must understand +that there was no idea of any sort of "career" in my call. Of +Russia or Germany there could be no question. The nationality, +the antecedents, made it impossible. The feeling against the +Austrian service was not so strong, and I dare say there would +have been no difficulty in finding my way into the Naval School +at Pola. It would have meant six months' extra grinding at +German, perhaps; but I was not past the age of admission, and in +other respects I was well qualified. This expedient to palliate +my folly was thought of--but not by me. I must admit that in +that respect my negative was accepted at once. That order of +feeling was comprehensible enough to the most inimical of my +critics. I was not called upon to offer explanations; but the +truth is that what I had in view was not a naval career, but the +sea. There seemed no way open to it but through France. I had +the language, at any rate, and of all the countries in Europe it +is with France that Poland has most connection. There were some +facilities for having me a little looked after, at first. +Letters were being written, answers were being received, +arrangements were being made for my departure for Marseilles, +where an excellent fellow called Solary, got at in a round about +fashion through various French channels, had promised +good-naturedly to put le jeune homme in the way of getting a +decent ship for his first start if he really wanted a taste of ce +metier de chien. + +I watched all these preparations gratefully, and kept my own +counsel. But what I told the last of my examiners was perfectly +true. Already the determined resolve that "if a seaman, then an +English seaman" was formulated in my head, though, of course, in +the Polish language. I did not know six words of English, and I +was astute enough to understand that it was much better to say +nothing of my purpose. As it was I was already looked upon as +partly insane, at least by the more distant acquaintances. The +principal thing was to get away. I put my trust in the +good-natured Solary's very civil letter to my uncle, though I was +shocked a little by the phrase about the metier de chien. + +This Solary (Baptistin), when I beheld him in the flesh, turned +out a quite young man, very good-looking, with a fine black, +short beard, a fresh complexion, and soft, merry black eyes. He +was as jovial and good natured as any boy could desire. I was +still asleep in my room in a modest hotel near the quays of the +old port, after the fatigues of the journey via Vienna, Zurich, +Lyons, when he burst in, flinging the shutters open to the sun of +Provence and chiding me boisterously for lying abed. How +pleasantly he startled me by his noisy objurgations to be up and +off instantly for a "three years' campaign in the South Seas!" O +magic words! "Une campagne de trois ans dans les mers du +sud"--that is the French for a three years' deep-water voyage. + +He gave me a delightful waking, and his friendliness was +unwearied; but I fear he did not enter upon the quest for a ship +for me in a very solemn spirit. He had been at sea himself, but +had left off at the age of twenty-five, finding he could earn his +living on shore in a much more agreeable manner. He was related +to an incredible number of Marseilles well-to-do families of a +certain class. One of his uncles was a ship-broker of good +standing, with a large connection among English ships; other +relatives of his dealt in ships' stores, owned sail-lofts, sold +chains and anchors, were master-stevedores, calkers, shipwrights. + +His grandfather (I think) was a dignitary of a kind, the Syndic +of the Pilots. I made acquaintances among these people, but +mainly among the pilots. The very first whole day I ever spent +on salt water was by invitation, in a big half-decked pilot-boat, +cruising under close reefs on the lookout, in misty, blowing +weather, for the sails of ships and the smoke of steamers rising +out there, beyond the slim and tall Planier lighthouse cutting +the line of the wind-swept horizon with a white perpendicular +stroke. They were hospitable souls, these sturdy Provencal +seamen. Under the general designation of le petit ami de +Baptistin I was made the guest of the corporation of pilots, and +had the freedom of their boats night or day. And many a day and +a night, too, did I spend cruising with these rough, kindly men, +under whose auspices my intimacy with the sea began. Many a time +"the little friend of Baptistin" had the hooded cloak of the +Mediterranean sailor thrown over him by their honest hands while +dodging at night under the lee of Chateau daft on the watch for +the lights of ships. Their sea tanned faces, whiskered or +shaved, lean or full, with the intent, wrinkled sea eyes of the +pilot breed, and here and there a thin gold hoop at the lobe of a +hairy ear, bent over my sea infancy. The first operation of +seamanship I had an opportunity of observing was the boarding of +ships at sea, at all times, in all states of the weather. They +gave it to me to the full. And I have been invited to sit in +more than one tall, dark house of the old town at their +hospitable board, had the bouillabaisse ladled out into a thick +plate by their high-voiced, broad-browed wives, talked to their +daughters--thick-set girls, with pure profiles, glorious masses +of black hair arranged with complicated art, dark eyes, and +dazzlingly white teeth. + +I had also other acquaintances of quite a different sort. One of +them, Madame Delestang, an imperious, handsome lady in a +statuesque style, would carry me off now and then on the front +seat of her carriage to the Prado, at the hour of fashionable +airing. She belonged to one of the old aristocratic families in +the south. In her haughty weariness she used to make me think of +Lady Dedlock in Dickens's "Bleak House," a work of the master for +which I have such an admiration, or rather such an intense and +unreasoning affection, dating from the days of my childhood, that +its very weaknesses are more precious to me than the strength of +other men's work. I have read it innumerable times, both in +Polish and in English; I have read it only the other day, and, by +a not very surprising inversion, the Lady Dedlock of the book +reminded me strongly of the "belle Madame Delestang." + +Her husband (as I sat facing them both), with his thin, bony nose +and a perfectly bloodless, narrow physiognomy clamped together, +as it were, by short, formal side whiskers, had nothing of Sir +Leicester Dedlock's "grand air" and courtly solemnity. He +belonged to the haute bourgeoisie only, and was a banker, with +whom a modest credit had been opened for my needs. He was such +an ardent--no, such a frozen-up, mummified Royalist that he used +in current conversation turns of speech contemporary, I should +say, with the good Henri Quatre; and when talking of money +matters, reckoned not in francs, like the common, godless herd of +post-Revolutionary Frenchmen, but in obsolete and forgotten +ecus--ecus of all money units in the world!--as though Louis +Quatorze were still promenading in royal splendour the gardens of +Versailles, and Monsieur de Colbert busy with the direction of +maritime affairs. You must admit that in a banker of the +nineteenth century it was a quaint idiosyncrasy. Luckily, in the +counting-house (it occupied part of the ground floor of the +Delestang town residence, in a silent, shady street) the accounts +were kept in modern money, so that I never had any difficulty in +making my wants known to the grave, low-voiced, decorous, +Legitimist (I suppose) clerks, sitting in the perpetual gloom of +heavily barred windows behind the sombre, ancient counters, +beneath lofty ceilings with heavily molded cornices. I always +felt, on going out, as though I had been in the temple of some +very dignified but completely temporal religion. And it was +generally on these occasions that under the great carriage +gateway Lady Ded--I mean Madame Delestang--catching sight of my +raised hat, would beckon me with an amiable imperiousness to the +side of the carriage, and suggest with an air of amused +nonchalance, "Venez donc faire un tour avec nous," to which the +husband would add an encouraging "C'est ca. Allons, montez, +jeune homme." He questioned me some times, significantly but +with perfect tact and delicacy, as to the way I employed my time, +and never failed to express the hope that I wrote regularly to my +"honoured uncle." I made no secret of the way I employed my +time, and I rather fancy that my artless tales of the pilots and +so on entertained Madame Delestang so far as that ineffable woman +could be entertained by the prattle of a youngster very full of +his new experience among strange men and strange sensations. She +expressed no opinions, and talked to me very little; yet her +portrait hangs in the gallery of my intimate memories, fixed +there by a short and fleeting episode. One day, after putting me +down at the corner of a street, she offered me her hand, and +detained me, by a slight pressure, for a moment. While the +husband sat motionless and looking straight before him, she +leaned forward in the carriage to say, with just a shade of +warning in her leisurely tone: "Il faut, cependant, faire +attention a ne pas gater sa vie." I had never seen her face so +close to mine before. She made my heart beat and caused me to +remain thoughtful for a whole evening. Certainly one must, after +all, take care not to spoil one's life. But she did not know-- +nobody could know--how impossible that danger seemed to me. + + +VII + +Can the transports of first love be calmed, checked, turned to a +cold suspicion of the future by a grave quotation from a work on +political economy? I ask--is it conceivable? Is it possible? +Would it be right? With my feet on the very shores of the sea +and about to embrace my blue-eyed dream, what could a +good-natured warning as to spoiling one's life mean to my +youthful passion? It was the most unexpected and the last, too, +of the many warnings I had received. It sounded to me very +bizarre--and, uttered as it was in the very presence of my +enchantress, like the voice of folly, the voice of ignorance. +But I was not so callous or so stupid as not to recognize there +also the voice of kindness. And then the vagueness of the +warning--because what can be the meaning of the phrase: to spoil +one's life?--arrested one's attention by its air of wise +profundity. At any rate, as I have said before, the words of la +belle Madame Delestang made me thoughtful for a whole evening. I +tried to understand and tried in vain, not having any notion of +life as an enterprise that could be mi managed. But I left off +being thoughtful shortly before midnight, at which hour, haunted +by no ghosts of the past and by no visions of the future, I +walked down the quay of the Vieux Port to join the pilot-boat of +my friends. I knew where she would be waiting for her crew, in +the little bit of a canal behind the fort at the entrance of the +harbour. The deserted quays looked very white and dry in the +moonlight, and as if frostbound in the sharp air of that December +night. A prowler or two slunk by noiselessly; a custom-house +guard, soldier-like, a sword by his side, paced close under the +bowsprits of the long row of ships moored bows on opposite the +long, slightly curved, continuous flat wall of the tall houses +that seemed to be one immense abandoned building with innumerable +windows shuttered closely. Only here and there a small, dingy +cafe for sailors cast a yellow gleam on the bluish sheen of the +flagstones. Passing by, one heard a deep murmur of voices +inside--nothing more. How quiet everything was at the end of the +quays on the last night on which I went out for a service cruise +as a guest of the Marseilles pilots! Not a footstep, except my +own, not a sigh, not a whispering echo of the usual revelry going +on in the narrow, unspeakable lanes of the Old Town reached my +ear--and suddenly, with a terrific jingling rattle of iron and +glass, the omnibus of the Jolliette on its last journey swung +around the corner of the dead wall which faces across the paved +road the characteristic angular mass of the Fort St. Jean. Three +horses trotted abreast, with the clatter of hoofs on the granite +setts, and the yellow, uproarious machine jolted violently behind +them, fantastic, lighted up, perfectly empty, and with the driver +apparently asleep on his swaying perch above that amazing racket. +I flattened myself against the wall and gasped. It was a stunning +experience. Then after staggering on a few paces in the shadow +of the fort, casting a darkness more intense than that of a +clouded night upon the canal, I saw the tiny light of a lantern +standing on the quay, and became aware of muffled figures making +toward it from various directions. Pilots of the Third Company +hastening to embark. Too sleepy to be talkative, they step on +board in silence. But a few low grunts and an enormous yawn are +heard. Somebody even ejaculates: "Ah! Coquin de sort!" and sighs +wearily at his hard fate. + +The patron of the Third Company (there were five companies of +pilots at that time, I believe) is the brother-in-law of my +friend Solary (Baptistin), a broad-shouldered, deep chested man +of forty, with a keen, frank glance which always seeks your eyes. + +He greets me by a low, hearty "He, l'ami. Comment va?" With his +clipped mustache and massive open face, energetic and at the same +time placid in expression, he is a fine specimen of the +southerner of the calm type. For there is such a type in which +the volatile southern passion is transmuted into solid force. He +is fair, but no one could mistake him for a man of the north even +by the dim gleam of the lantern standing on the quay. He is +worth a dozen of your ordinary Normans or Bretons, but then, in +the whole immense sweep of the Mediterranean shores, you could +not find half a dozen men of his stamp. + +Standing by the tiller, he pulls out his watch from under a thick +jacket and bends his head over it in the light cast into the +boat. Time's up. His pleasant voice commands, in a quiet +undertone, "Larguez." A suddenly projected arm snatches the +lantern off the quay--and, warped along by a line at first, then +with the regular tug of four heavy sweeps in the bow, the big +half-decked boat full of men glides out of the black, breathless +shadow of the fort. The open water of the avant-port glitters +under the moon as if sown over with millions of sequins, and the +long white break water shines like a thick bar of solid silver. +With a quick rattle of blocks and one single silky swish, the +sail is filled by a little breeze keen enough to have come +straight down from the frozen moon, and the boat, after the +clatter of the hauled-in sweeps, seems to stand at rest, +surrounded by a mysterious whispering so faint and unearthly that +it may be the rustling of the brilliant, overpowering moon rays +breaking like a rain-shower upon the hard, smooth, shadowless +sea. + +I may well remember that last night spent with the pilots of the +Third Company. I have known the spell of moonlight since, on +various seas and coasts--coasts of forests, of rocks, of sand +dunes--but no magic so perfect in its revelation of unsuspected +character, as though one were allowed to look upon the mystic +nature of material things. For hours I suppose no word was spoken +in that boat. The pilots, seated in two rows facing each other, +dozed, with their arms folded and their chins resting upon their +breasts. They displayed a great variety of caps: cloth, wool, +leather, peaks, ear-flaps, tassels, with a picturesque round +beret or two pulled down over the brows; and one grandfather, +with a shaved, bony face and a great beak of a nose, had a cloak +with a hood which made him look in our midst like a cowled monk +being carried off goodness knows where by that silent company of +seamen--quiet enough to be dead. + +My fingers itched for the tiller, and in due course my friend, +the patron, surrendered it to me in the same spirit in which the +family coachman lets a boy hold the reins on an easy bit of road. + +There was a great solitude around us; the islets ahead, Monte +Cristo and the Chateau daft in full light, seemed to float toward +us--so steady, so imperceptible was the progress of our boat. +"Keep her in the furrow of the moon," the patron directed me, in +a quiet murmur, sitting down ponderously in the stern-sheets and +reaching for his pipe. + +The pilot station in weather like this was only a mile or two to +the westward of the islets; and presently, as we approached the +spot, the boat we were going to relieve swam into our view +suddenly, on her way home, cutting black and sinister into the +wake of the moon under a sable wing, while to them our sail must +have been a vision of white and dazzling radiance. Without +altering the course a hair's breadth we slipped by each other +within an oar's length. A drawling, sardonic hail came out of +her. Instantly, as if by magic, our dozing pilots got on their +feet in a body. An incredible babel of bantering shouts burst +out, a jocular, passionate, voluble chatter, which lasted till +the boats were stern to stern, theirs all bright now, and, with a +shining sail to our eyes, we turned all black to their vision, +and drew away from them under a sable wing. That extraordinary +uproar died away almost as suddenly as it had begun; first one +had enough of it and sat down, then another, then three or four +together; and when all had left off with mutters and growling +half-laughs the sound of hearty chuckling became audible, +persistent, unnoticed. The cowled grandfather was very much +entertained somewhere within his hood. + +He had not joined in the shouting of jokes, neither had he moved +the least bit. He had remained quietly in his place against the +foot of the mast. I had been given to understand long before +that he had the rating of a second-class able seaman (matelot +leger) in the fleet which sailed from Toulon for the conquest of +Algeria in the year of grace 1830. And, indeed, I had seen and +examined one of the buttons of his old brown, patched coat, the +only brass button of the miscellaneous lot, flat and thin, with +the words Equipages de ligne engraved on it. That sort of +button, I believe, went out with the last of the French Bourbons. + +"I preserved it from the time of my navy service," he explained, +nodding rapidly his frail, vulture-like head. It was not very +likely that he had picked up that relic in the street. He looked +certainly old enough to have fought at Trafalgar--or, at any +rate, to have played his little part there as a powder monkey. +Shortly after we had been introduced he had informed me in a +Franco-Provencal jargon, mumbling tremulously with his toothless +jaws, that when he was a "shaver no higher than that" he had seen +the Emperor Napoleon returning from Elba. It was at night, he +narrated vaguely, without animation, at a spot between Frejus and +Antibes, in the open country. A big fire had been lit at the +side of the cross-roads. The population from several villages +had collected there, old and young--down to the very children in +arms, because the women had refused to stay at home. Tall +soldiers wearing high, hairy caps stood in a circle, facing the +people silently, and their stern eyes and big mustaches were +enough to make everybody keep at a distance. He, "being an +impudent little shaver," wriggled out of the crowd, creeping on +his hands and knees as near as he dared to the grenadiers' legs, +and peeping through discovered, standing perfectly still in the +light of the fire, "a little fat fellow in a three-cornered hat, +buttoned up in a long straight coat, with a big, pale face +inclined on one shoulder, looking something like a priest. His +hands were clasped behind his back. . . . It appears that this +was the Emperor," the ancient commented, with a faint sigh. He +was staring from the ground with all his might, when "my poor +father," who had been searching for his boy frantically every +where, pounced upon him and hauled him away by the ear. + +The tale seems an authentic recollection. He related it to me +many times, using the very same words. The grandfather honoured +me by a special and somewhat embarrassing predilection. Extremes +touch. He was the oldest member by a long way in that company, +and I was, if I may say so, its temporarily adopted baby. He had +been a pilot longer than any man in the boat could remember; +thirty--forty years. He did not seem certain himself, but it +could be found out, he suggested, in the archives of the +Pilot-office. He had been pensioned off years before, but he +went out from force of habit; and, as my friend the patron of the +company once confided to me in a whisper, "the old chap did no +harm. He was not in the way." They treated him with rough +deference. One and another would address some insignificant +remark to him now and again, but nobody really took any notice of +what he had to say. He had survived his strength, his +usefulness, his very wisdom. He wore long, green, worsted +stockings pulled up above the knee over his trousers, a sort of +woollen nightcap on his hairless cranium, and wooden clogs on his +feet. Without his hooded cloak he looked like a peasant. Half a +dozen hands would be extended to help him on board, but afterward +he was left pretty much to his own thoughts. Of course he never +did any work, except, perhaps, to cast off some rope when hailed, +"He, l'Ancien! let go the halyards there, at your hand"--or some +such request of an easy kind. + +No one took notice in any way of the chuckling within the shadow +of the hood. He kept it up for a long time with intense +enjoyment. Obviously he had preserved intact the innocence of +mind which is easily amused. But when his hilarity had exhausted +itself, he made a professional remark in a self-assertive but +quavering voice: + +"Can't expect much work on a night like this." + +No one took it up. It was a mere truism. Nothing under canvas +could be expected to make a port on such an idle night of dreamy +splendour and spiritual stillness. We would have to glide idly +to and fro, keeping our station within the appointed bearings, +and, unless a fresh breeze sprang up with the dawn, we would land +before sunrise on a small islet that, within two miles of us, +shone like a lump of frozen moonlight, to "break a crust and take +a pull at the wine bottle." I was familiar with the procedure. +The stout boat emptied of her crowd would nestle her buoyant, +capable side against the very rock--such is the perfectly smooth +amenity of the classic sea when in a gentle mood. The crust +broken and the mouthful of wine swallowed--it was literally no +more than that with this abstemious race--the pilots would pass +the time stamping their feet on the slabs of sea-salted stone and +blowing into their nipped fingers. One or two misanthropists +would sit apart, perched on boulders like manlike sea-fowl of +solitary habits; the sociably disposed would gossip scandalously +in little gesticulating knots; and there would be perpetually one +or another of my hosts taking aim at the empty horizon with the +long, brass tube of the telescope, a heavy, murderous-looking +piece of collective property, everlastingly changing hands with +brandishing and levelling movements. Then about noon (it was a +short turn of duty--the long turn lasted twenty-four hours) +another boatful of pilots would relieve us--and we should steer +for the old Phoenician port, dominated, watched over from the +ridge of a dust-gray, arid hill by the red-and-white striped pile +of the Notre Dame de la Garde. + +All this came to pass as I had foreseen in the fullness of my +very recent experience. But also something not foreseen by me +did happen, something which causes me to remember my last outing +with the pilots. It was on this occasion that my hand touched, +for the first time, the side of an English ship. + +No fresh breeze had come with the dawn, only the steady little +draught got a more keen edge on it as the eastern sky became +bright and glassy with a clean, colourless light. I t was while +we were all ashore on the islet that a steamer was picked up by +the telescope, a black speck like an insect posed on the hard +edge of the offing. She emerged rapidly to her water-line and +came on steadily, a slim hull with a long streak of smoke +slanting away from the rising sun. We embarked in a hurry, and +headed the boat out for our prey, but we hardly moved three miles +an hour. + +She was a big, high-class cargo-steamer of a type that is to be +met on the sea no more--black hull, with low, white +superstructures, powerfully rigged with three masts and a lot of +yards on the fore; two hands at her enormous wheel--steam +steering-gear was not a matter of course in these days--and with +them on the bridge three others, bulky in thick blue jackets, +ruddy-faced, muffled up, with peak caps--I suppose all her +officers. There are ships I have met more than once and known +well by sight whose names I have forgotten; but the name of that +ship seen once so many years ago in the clear flush of a cold, +pale sunrise I have not forgotten. How could I--the first +English ship on whose side I ever laid my hand! The name--I read +it letter by letter on the bow--was James Westoll. Not very +romantic, you will say. The name of a very considerable, +well-known, and universally respected North country ship-owner, I +believe. James Westoll! What better name could an honourable +hard-working ship have? To me the very grouping of the letters +is alive with the romantic feeling of her reality as I saw her +floating motionless and borrowing an ideal grace from the austere +purity of the light. + +We were then very near her and, on a sudden impulse, I +volunteered to pull bow in the dinghy which shoved off at once to +put the pilot on board while our boat, fanned by the faint air +which had attended us all through the night, went on gliding +gently past the black, glistening length of the ship. A few +strokes brought us alongside, and it was then that, for the very +first time in my life, I heard myself addressed in English--the +speech of my secret choice, of my future, of long friendships, of +the deepest affections, of hours of toil and hours of ease, and +of solitary hours, too, of books read, of thoughts pursued, of +remembered emotions--of my very dreams! And if (after being thus +fashioned by it in that part of me which cannot decay) I dare not +claim it aloud as my own, then, at any rate, the speech of my +children. Thus small events grow memorable by the passage of +time. As to the quality of the address itself I cannot say it +was very striking. Too short for eloquence and devoid of all +charm of tone, it consisted precisely of the three words "Look +out there!" growled out huskily above my head. + +It proceeded from a big fat fellow (he had an obtrusive, hairy +double chin) in a blue woollen shirt and roomy breeches pulled up +very high, even to the level of his breastbone, by a pair of +braces quite exposed to public view. As where he stood there was +no bulwark, but only a rail and stanchions, I was able to take in +at a glance the whole of his voluminous person from his feet to +the high crown of his soft black hat, which sat like an absurd +flanged cone on his big head. The grotesque and massive aspect +of that deck hand (I suppose he was that--very likely the +lamp-trimmer) surprised me very much. My course of reading, of +dreaming, and longing for the sea had not prepared me for a sea +brother of that sort. I never met again a figure in the least +like his except in the illustrations to Mr. W. W. Jacobs's most +entertaining tales of barges and coasters; but the inspired +talent of Mr. Jacobs for poking endless fun at poor, innocent +sailors in a prose which, however extravagant in its felicitous +invention, is always artistically adjusted to observed truth, was +not yet. Perhaps Mr. Jacobs himself was not yet. I fancy that, +at most, if he had made his nurse laugh it was about all he had +achieved at that early date. + +Therefore, I repeat, other disabilities apart, I could not have +been prepared for the sight of that husky old porpoise. The +object of his concise address was to call my attention to a rope +which he incontinently flung down for me to catch. I caught it, +though it was not really necessary, the ship having no way on her +by that time. Then everything went on very swiftly. The dinghy +came with a slight bump against the steamer's side; the pilot, +grabbing for the rope ladder, had scrambled half-way up before I +knew that our task of boarding was done; the harsh, muffled +clanging of the engine-room telegraph struck my ear through the +iron plate; my companion in the dinghy was urging me to "shove +off--push hard"; and when I bore against the smooth flank of the +first English ship I ever touched in my life, I felt it already +throbbing under my open palm. + +Her head swung a little to the west, pointing toward the +miniature lighthouse of the Jolliette breakwater, far away there, +hardly distinguishable against the land. The dinghy danced a +squashy, splashy jig in the wash of the wake; and, turning in my +seat, I followed the James Westoll with my eyes. Before she had +gone in a quarter of a mile she hoisted her flag, as the harbour +regulations prescribe for arriving and departing ships. I saw it +suddenly flicker and stream out on the flag staff. The Red +Ensign! In the pellucid, colourless atmosphere bathing the drab +and gray masses of that southern land, the livid islets, the sea +of pale, glassy blue under the pale, glassy sky of that cold +sunrise, it was, as far as the eye could reach, the only spot of +ardent colour--flame-like, intense, and presently as minute as +the tiny red spark the concentrated reflection of a great fire +kindles in the clear heart of a globe of crystal. The Red +Ensign--the symbolic, protecting, warm bit of bunting flung wide +upon the seas, and destined for so many years to be the only roof +over my head. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Etext of A Personal Record by Conrad + diff --git a/old/aprjc10.zip b/old/aprjc10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ce8e861 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/aprjc10.zip |