The Fifth Desk · Evaluation

Act I · The Map

Literature · Novel in three parts · 1904 · the invented republic of Costaguana, its Occidental Province and the port of Sulaco on the Golfo Placido, from the fall of the Ribierist government to the secession of Sulaco, with a history reaching back two generations and a coda some years later

Nostromo

Joseph Conrad · a novel in three parts: The Silver of the Mine, The Isabels, The Lighthouse · first a serial in T.P.’s Weekly through 1904 · scored on the book text published by Harper and Brothers, London and New York, in October 1904, in Conrad’s English, read from knowledge; no text in hand, quoted only where its words are certain

The Plate · a fine line across the top for the time of the story, with ticks for the old tyranny and the concession at the left and for the fall of the government, the secession and the coda at the right; below it the line of the telling, which begins at the right among a few strokes of hatching for the gulf, leaps back by a dotted line to the far left two generations before, comes forward across the page, and then descends slowly through the days of the rising; two faint rules divide the telling into its three parts, the third the longest; at the foot a dotted line crosses a gap to a short heavy stroke for the coda; below the end, hatching again for the gulf, an upright with a small cap for the lighthouse and a black point for the hidden silver; and a dotted arc on the right joining the gulf of the opening to the gulf of the close

Mode

Political novel and tale of the sea, turned into history told from no centre; satire, tragedy and the legend of a bewitched treasure in one book

Mythos

The treasure that binds those who take it, from the two gringos of Azuera to the man who hides the silver on the island; silver as the incorruptible metal that corrupts; the lighthouse raised over the hoard

Phase

Three generations of a republic, from the veterans of the war of independence through Guzman Bento’s tyranny to the Separation, told out of order, with a coda that foresees the next revolt

Presentation

Prose fiction in three parts, first a serial in T.P.’s Weekly (1904), then a book from Harper and Brothers (October 1904)

Register

A grave, ironic narrative voice heavy with abstraction, holding farce, satire of politicians, tragedy and intimate grief; official history in Captain Mitchell’s mouth set against what the reader has seen

Scale

A whole invented state: its dictators, parliaments and generals, its mine, railway, port and press, its foreign financiers, its miners and cargadores, its church, and the gulf, the islands and the snow peak above them

Governing Proposition

In an invented South American republic an English family’s silver mine becomes the power behind a revolution, a secession and a new state, and a Genoese sailor famous for his honesty is sent out into a dark gulf to save its silver. The wager of the novel is that material interests, once organised, make their own law, stronger than the state and the revolutions that pass over it; that each person who attaches himself to something incorruptible, silver, reputation, an idea of order, is undone by it; and that history told out of order, with no one at its centre, can show this as no story with a hero could.

The Immense Indifference of Things

8.8 / 10
Tier IV · Canonical

Act II · The Essay

Movement I

So Foul a Sky

The book carries an epigraph from King John: “So foul a sky clears not without a storm.” It then opens not on a person but on a place: the Golfo Placido, its calms and its darkness, and the peninsula of Azuera, where, the legend says, two gringos went after treasure and are held still, alive and dead, by the riches they cannot leave. A novel named for one man begins with a gulf and a legend, and both will return at its close. The legend is the shape of the book in small: a treasure that binds those who take it, told before any of the treasure’s keepers has appeared.

The world the legend stands over is Costaguana, a republic Conrad invented whole: its Occidental Province, the port of Sulaco on the gulf, the campo, the snows of Higuerota, the San Tomé silver mine in the mountains, a railway, a press, parliaments, generals and a history of tyrannies. The narrated present runs from the fall of the Ribierist government through the Monterist rising to the secession of Sulaco as the Occidental Republic, with a coda some years later. Nothing in it is a real country, and everything in it is a country: the invention is held with its economy and its politics as well as its scenery.

Conrad wrote the book in English, his third language. It ran first as a serial in T.P.’s Weekly through 1904 and was published as a book by Harper and Brothers, in London and New York, in October 1904; that book text is the work scored here. It is in three parts: “The Silver of the Mine”, “The Isabels” and “The Lighthouse”, the third the longest. The Author’s Note that Conrad added in 1917 is context, not part of the work. The novel came after Heart of Darkness and Lord Jim, and it leaves their method behind: there is no Marlow here, no single teller through whom the far place is seen.

Movement II

The Silver of the Mine

After the gulf the book moves to a riot in Sulaco and the flight of the dictator Ribiera, and then, without warning, reaches back two generations: to the tyranny of Guzman Bento, and to the elder Gould and the concession of the mine. The order of telling is the book’s first argument. The reader learns that the Occidental Republic exists before learning what it cost, and so every cause arrives as a reckoning. History is not a story moving forward to an end but a field of forces, and the reader is placed above it, seeing more than anyone inside it sees.

Charles Gould brings the San Tomé mine back to life. He does it to redeem his father and to give the province order, and he does it with the backing of Holroyd, a financier in San Francisco who foresees his country running the world’s business whether the world likes it or not. Gould’s faith is in “material interests”, as the road to order. The mine does give order. It also takes Gould, who gives his life to it, and it empties his marriage. Mrs Gould is left with a sense of waste, and her husband has become the servant of the thing he raised.

Around the mine the book sets its people, each bound to something outside himself. The old Garibaldino Giorgio Viola keeps his republican faith beside the new idol. Martin Decoud, a sceptic, loves Antonia of the Avellanos circle and writes to his sister. Dr Monygham carries the shame of his history under Guzman Bento’s priest-inquisitor. And Nostromo, the Genoese Capataz of the cargadores, has a reputation for incorruptibility among them and among the foreigners who use him, and who gave him the name the book bears. The book keeps him offstage for long stretches.

Movement III

The Isabels

The Monterist rising comes against Sulaco, and the silver from the mine must be got out of the port before the rebels take it. Nostromo and Decoud put out into the Golfo Placido at night in a lighter loaded with ingots. The darkness is so complete that they move through it blind, and Hirsch is hidden in the bottom of the boat. Sotillo’s steamer runs into them in the dark. It is one of the great scenes of the book, and its height is cold: two men, a hidden third and a fortune of silver, moving through a black that has no shape. The silver is hidden on the Great Isabel.

Decoud is left alone on the island with the treasure. Over ten days of solitude he loses faith in his own individuality: the sceptic, who had needed others to be a self at all, cannot survive being unseen. He rows out, shoots himself and sinks, weighted with four ingots of silver, “swallowed up in the immense indifference of things”. The scene is the purest statement of the book’s law, and it is made in action. Decoud’s scepticism was his attachment, and solitude undid it; the silver he took with him to the bottom is the same silver that binds everyone else.

Nostromo swims ashore and sleeps, and wakes like a great beast, a man whose whole public self is gone: no one knows what he has done, and his reputation, which was all he had, is no longer seen. Teresa Viola, dying, wants a priest, and Nostromo will not fetch one; she dies unshriven. Hirsch, taken by Sotillo, is interrogated and killed. Each of these is a case of the book’s one law, a person bound to an idea or a thing and undone by it, and each is built with great authority. The middle of the book, where its forms and its knowledge are one, is the source of most of what it is.

Movement IV

Material Interests

Monygham walks back into Sulaco to deceive Sotillo about the silver, choosing to be thought a traitor. It is the guilty doctor’s act of devotion, and one of the book’s heights. It is Monygham, too, who states the law of the book to Mrs Gould: “There is no peace and no rest in the development of material interests.” He goes on to say that their justice rests on expediency and is without the force of a moral principle. The book’s disclosure is stated here by a person, and that is its limit as well as its strength; but the action has already borne the statement out.

The secession comes. Nostromo’s ride to Cayta and Barrios’s return save the province, and Sulaco becomes the Occidental Republic. Told in order, this would be the climax of a story of revolution and rescue, and the new republic its happy end. The book does not tell it so. Much of it comes through Captain Mitchell guiding a visitor around the town and its “historical events”, a tour of official history in which everything has turned out for the best. The reader has already seen what Mitchell cannot: that the Separation serves the concession, and that the progress he shows is the mine’s law repeating itself.

Mitchell’s tour is the instrument of the book’s irony and also its longest weakness: it runs on and repeats what the reader has seen. The charge is fair, and it is one of the two places where the book’s necessity is held. The other is still to come. But the method is the knowledge: the absence of a governing consciousness, the chronology broken, the hero absent, the history told by a man who does not understand it. No one in the book understands what he is part of, and the reader is shown it by the form before being told it by Monygham.

Movement V

The Lighthouse

Nostromo keeps the silver he hid on the island, and grows rich slowly, going out by night to the Great Isabel to take a little at a time. He has become the gringo of Azuera, the bewitched keeper of a treasure that holds him. A lighthouse is raised over the treasure, the old Garibaldino’s lighthouse; Nostromo, engaged to Linda, courts Giselle in secret, and the treasure and the lie are kept together. The book named for him has at last come to him, and it narrows here toward a single plot told more nearly in sequence.

This last part is the book’s weakest stretch. The triangle with the two sisters is compelled by the treasure plot, and carried by a melodrama the rest of the book avoids; its handling is hasty beside the care elsewhere, and its tone is the one place where the book’s law seems applied from outside. Giorgio Viola fires a shot in the dark. Linda’s cry goes out over the gulf, and the last sentence speaks of the Capataz’s genius dominating the dark gulf of his conquests of treasure and love. The close strains for grandeur, and it spells out the legend of the opening where the legend might have stood alone.

Yet the coda has already foreseen the next revolution, against the material interests themselves, and so the book’s history does not end with its plot. Leavis in 1948 set it at the height of Conrad’s work; later readers have taken it as the founding novel of capital and the nation in Latin America, and Vásquez’s The Secret History of Costaguana (2007) answered it by name. Its reach has run through novelists and critics more than through readers at large, and its difficulty keeps it from the common reader. What it holds is a whole state, its capital, its labour, its church, its families and its gulf, turning on one mine, and the knowledge that those who serve the mine believing they serve justice are taken over by it.

Act III · The Twelve

1The Inevitable (Ananke)

Most of the book is required by its argument. The broken chronology is not ornament: the reader learns that the Occidental Republic exists before learning what it cost, so its causes arrive as a reckoning. Decoud’s isolation on the Great Isabel, Hirsch’s death under Sotillo, Monygham’s history under Guzman Bento’s priest-inquisitor, Teresa Viola dying unshriven because Nostromo will not fetch the priest: each is load-bearing, a case of a man or woman bound to an idea or a thing. The subtractive test bites in two places, and they hold the axis lowest of the twelve. Captain Mitchell’s tour serves the irony of official history but runs long and repeats what the reader has seen. And the last chapters, Nostromo’s secret courtship of Giselle while he is engaged to Linda, and Giorgio Viola’s shot in the dark, are compelled by the treasure plot but carried by a melodrama the book elsewhere avoids; much of that triangle could be cut without loss to what the novel knows.

Score: 8.3 / 10

2The Unconcealment (Aletheia)

The disclosure can be stated, and it has held for a century: that “material interests”, foreign capital organised as a mine, become a power with their own law, stronger than the state and the revolutions that pass over it, and that the men who serve them believing they serve justice are taken over by them. Charles Gould brings the San Tomé mine to life to redeem his father and give the province order; the mine gives order, and empties his marriage. Monygham states the law to Mrs Gould, “There is no peace and no rest in the development of material interests”, and goes on to say that their justice rests on expediency, without the force of a moral principle. Beside it stands the companion truth in each life: Nostromo’s incorruptibility is vanity, a self that exists only in being seen; Decoud’s scepticism cannot survive solitude. Held at this figure and not above, because the disclosures are stated by persons as much as shown, and the Costaguaneros at large are seen from above.

Score: 9.0 / 10

3The Sublime (Hypsos)

Elevation recurs, and it is mostly cold. The Golfo Placido at night, a darkness so complete that the lighter carrying the silver moves through it blind, with Hirsch hidden in the bottom; the collision with Sotillo’s steamer in that dark. Decoud alone on the Great Isabel, losing faith in his own individuality over ten days, rowing out, shooting himself and sinking weighted with four ingots, “swallowed up in the immense indifference of things”. Nostromo waking on the shore after his swim and his sleep like a great beast, a man with his whole public self gone. The snows of Higuerota over the campo. Monygham walking back into Sulaco to deceive Sotillo, choosing to be thought a traitor. Held below the top because the long middle stretches of political exposition are flat, the elevation is sometimes reached by an accumulation of abstract nouns rather than earned, and the close strains for grandeur with its cry over the dark gulf.

Score: 8.6 / 10

4The Archetypal Deep (Mythos)

Myth built, not evoked. The book opens on a legend: two gringos who went onto Azuera after treasure and are held there, alive and dead, by riches they cannot leave. That legend is the structure of the book. The silver binds Gould, who gives his life to the mine, and binds Nostromo, who hides it on the Isabel and becomes in his own person the bewitched keeper of a treasure, growing rich slowly and stealing by night. The archetype bears the weight and stays particular: a Genoese sailor with a reputation among the cargadores, known by a name the foreigners who use him have given him. Silver as the incorruptible metal that corrupts; a lighthouse raised over the hoard; the old Garibaldino’s republican faith beside the new idol. Held below the summit because the archetype is single, the book’s other figures (the fallen idealist, the sceptic, the guilty doctor) are types more than myths, and the close spells the legend out where it might have stood.

Score: 8.8 / 10

5The Swerve (Parekklisis)

The inheritance is the English novel of empire, which had told the far place through a traveller or a single consciousness, as Conrad’s own Marlow books did. Nostromo has no centre. It invents a whole republic, with its history, factions, port, mine, railway and press, and tells it with the chronology broken, so that history is seen as a field of forces rather than a story with a hero. The book named for its title figure keeps him offstage for long stretches. The stake was in the form itself: a novel of this size with no guide and no hero risks the reader’s hold on it, and the book takes that risk throughout. Held below the top on two counts: the method of the time-shift and of irony toward official history extends what Lord Jim had begun, and the late adventure plot returns to the paths of the sea story.

Score: 8.7 / 10

6The Living Form (Entelecheia)

Change the form and the knowledge changes. Told in order, the book would be the story of a revolution and a rescue, with Nostromo’s ride to Cayta and Barrios’s return as its climax and the Occidental Republic as its happy end. Told as it is, the secession is known before its making, then given through Captain Mitchell’s complacent narration as a tale for visitors, and the reader sees the progress as the mine’s law repeating itself; the coda foresees the next revolution, this time against the material interests themselves. The absence of a governing consciousness is the instrument of the book’s view that no one in it understands what he is part of. Charged: the third part, after Decoud’s death, narrows toward a single plot told more nearly in sequence, and there the form is less the knowledge than the container of an ending.

Score: 8.7 / 10

7The Bottomless Well (Apeiron)

The evidence is a century of argument that has not exhausted it. F. R. Leavis, in The Great Tradition (1948), set it at the height of Conrad’s work. Later readers have taken it as the founding novel of capital and the nation in Latin America, read it for its prophecy of American power, read it against Conrad’s own Polish history of failed revolt, and read its form as a theory of history. The questions stay open: whether Gould is a tragic hero or a possessed man; whether Monygham’s self-contempt is the book’s moral centre; whether Mrs Gould’s sense of waste is the book’s verdict; whether Nostromo’s fall is a tragedy or a judgment on vanity. The forms yield on return too: the dates, the doublings, two treasure stories and two lighthouses, one of stone and one of reputation. Held below the summit because the late plot is read less on return, and the yield is concentrated in the first two parts.

Score: 8.8 / 10

8Pressure on Tradition (Agon)

The field is the novel in English of the century’s first decade, and the political novel in Europe. The intrinsic force is high: the book made the invented state, held whole with its history and its economy, a form of the novel, and it set foreign capital at the centre of a novel with a reach no earlier book had. Achieved reach is scored with intrinsic force: it is real and named, and narrower than that of Heart of Darkness. Graham Greene’s and V. S. Naipaul’s novels of the post-colonial republic, A Bend in the River among them, work in its line; Juan Gabriel Vásquez’s The Secret History of Costaguana (2007) answers it by name; the Latin American novel of the dictator and the company has been read beside it, though direct debt there is argued rather than shown, and it is credited here only as kinship. Its reach has run through novelists and critics more than through readers at large, and the axis stands exactly at the bar of the Epochal Gate.

Score: 8.5 / 10

9The Imperishable (Aphtharsia)

Survival is weighed on form first. The text has survived whole and in print since 1904, in paperback series and in critical editions, and it is taught in universities; nothing that carried meaning is lost. It has outlived its conditions: the silver concession and the gunboat republic are history, and the book is read for what they disclose. For a survival of about a hundred and twenty years the usual figure sits here. Its presence is charged a little because it is read chiefly in the academy and among novelists, far less widely than Heart of Darkness or Lord Jim, and because its difficulty keeps it from the common reader.

Score: 9.0 / 10

10The Made (Techne)

Judged on Conrad’s English, his third language. The construction is a feat: dozens of named persons, three generations of history and a geography held exactly (the gulf, the Isabels, the harbour, the campo, the mountain, the mine, the railway), with a time-scheme that moves backward and forward without losing the reader who attends. Scenes are built with great authority: the riot and Ribiera’s flight, the lighter in the dark, Hirsch’s interrogation, Monygham’s deception of Sotillo, Teresa’s death. Charged on the sentence: the English here is often heavy with abstraction and with the triadic adjective; the dialogue, especially Antonia’s and that of the Avellanos circle, can be stiff; the narrative voice sometimes says what the scene has shown. The last part’s handling of the Giselle plot is hasty beside the care elsewhere. The making is load-bearing in the structure, less so in the prose line.

Score: 8.7 / 10

11The Inner Law (Cosmos)

One law governs the widest range: each person attaches himself to something incorruptible outside himself, silver, reputation, love, an idea of order, the republic, scepticism, and is undone by the attachment or by its failure. Take the most distant elements. Captain Mitchell’s comic tour of “historical events” and Decoud’s death on the island obey it alike, the one as the public story that conceals the law, the other as the private truth beneath it. Gould’s marriage and the Garibaldino’s lighthouse, the Azuera legend and the coda’s prophecy of the next revolt: one physics. The range runs from farce (Sotillo’s fury) through the satire of politicians to tragedy and intimate grief. Charged once: the tone of the final love plot, operatic and sentimental, is the one place where the law seems applied from outside rather than lived.

Score: 8.7 / 10

12The Encompassed (Megethos)

Held, not listed. The state: the dictatorship of Guzman Bento, the Ribierist reform, the Monterist coup, the Separation, parliaments and generals. Capital: the concession, the mine, the railway, the financier in San Francisco and the investors in Europe. Labour: the cargadores, the Indian miners and their families, the porters of the harbour. History: three generations, from the veterans of the war of independence and of Garibaldi’s wars to the new republic. The family: the Goulds’ childless marriage, the Violas, Decoud and Antonia, Don José and his daughter. Consciousness: Decoud’s unravelling, Monygham’s shame, Mrs Gould’s sense of waste. The sacred: Father Corbelán and the Church’s claims, the unshriven death. The natural order: the gulf with its calms and its darkness, the snow peak, the sea. All of it turns on one mine. The highest of the twelve, charged a little for the thin rendering of the Costaguanero populace from inside.

Score: 9.3 / 10

Act IV · The Reckoning

8.8 / 10 · Final Average

Placement: Tier IV · Canonical

Strongest Dimensions

The Encompassed at 9.3, then The Unconcealment and The Imperishable at 9.0. A whole invented state, its tyrannies, capital, labour, church, families and gulf, held in one structure that turns on one mine; a disclosure that material interests make their own law and take over those who serve them, borne out by the action; and a text whole and in print since 1904, read for what its vanished conditions disclose.

Limiting Dimension

The Inevitable at 8.3, held by Captain Mitchell’s long tour, which repeats what the reader has seen, and by the last love plot, carried by a melodrama the book elsewhere avoids. Next above it, Pressure on Tradition at 8.5, a reach real and named but narrower than its force, running through novelists and critics more than readers; then The Sublime at 8.6, flat in the long political exposition and straining at the close.

The Necessity Cap clears at 8.3 against a threshold of 7.5. The Coherence Floor clears with room: The Living Form at 8.7, The Made at 8.7, The Inner Law at 8.7, each against 7.0. The Epochal Gate is met on all five: The Unconcealment at 9.0, The Imperishable at 9.0, The Archetypal Deep at 8.8 and The Swerve at 8.7 clear the bar of 8.5, and Pressure on Tradition meets it exactly at 8.5. The Universal Minimum is met (no axis falls below 8.3, against 7.5) and The Encompassed clears its own floor of 6.0 at 9.3. Every summit condition is met; the work is held below the summit by its aggregate alone, at 8.8.

Basis · Joseph Conrad’s Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard, scored on the book text published by Harper and Brothers, London and New York, in October 1904, after its serial run in T.P.’s Weekly through 1904; nothing on this page turns on the differences between serial and book. The Author’s Note of 1917 is context, not the work. The novel is in Conrad’s English, his third language; there is no translation between the desk and the work, and every axis is judged on the English as he wrote it. Read from knowledge: no text of the novel was in hand and no quotation was checked against a file. The book is known closely in its three parts and their titles, its order of telling, its persons and its principal scenes, and in the main lines of its reception; it is not argued chapter by chapter. Quotation is confined to the epigraph and a few short phrases whose words are certain, and none is cited by page; Holroyd’s prophecy, Mitchell’s tour and the book’s last sentence are given in paraphrase. Matters that could not be verified, among them the number of chapters in each part, the length in words, the book’s first sales and reception, the wording of the Author’s Note, the extent of its translations, and later adaptations for film and television, are not given.