Joseph Conrad's Nostromo: A Contrast in Cultures

         "The natural treasures of Costaguana are of importance to the progressive Europe . . . just as three hundred years ago the wealth of our Spanish fathers was a serious object to the rest of Europe—as represented by the bold buccaneers. There is a curse of futility upon our character: Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, chivalry and materialism, high-sounding sentiments and a supine morality, violent efforts for an idea and a sullen acquiescence in every form of corruption. We convulsed a continent for our independence only to become the passive prey of a democratic parody to the helpless victims of scoundrels and cutthroats, our institutions a mockery, our laws a farce . . . (189). This passage from Joseph Conrad's Nostromo suggests a sad tale of irony, loss, and betrayal through his tragic struggle of protagonist Giovanni Battista Fidanza to save his people and a fortune in silver coveted by western entrepreneurs. Gian', otherwise known as Nostromo, suffers as an existential victim of American imperialism. Courageous and charismatic, he seeks fulfillment through the approval of the villagers and the silver mine employees. Facing great hardships, Nostromo protects the Viola family who has reared him as a child, as well as the investors who build the San Tome mine against thieves and insurgent groups. Nostromo, however, fails to realize that he is nothing but a pawn in the hands of the western capitalists who use him to maintain their own vested interests and to dupe the villagers of Sulaco into believing that the enormous wealth of the San Tome mine will go to improve their social conditions and quality of life. Unfortunately, Nostromo and the common people are not the only victims. Mrs. Gould, wife of the founder of the San Tome mine, learns too late that she too has moved with her husband to an isolated part of South America because of his obsession for the wealth of the San Tome silver mine, to rob the earth of its treasure, a feat which will ultimately destroy his personality as well as their relationship. Thinking to herself, Emilia Gould alludes to her husband Charles: "He was perfect, perfect; but she would never have him to herself. Never; not for one short hour altogether to herself in this old Spanish house she loved so well! Incorrigible, the last of the Corbelans, the last of the Avellanos, the doctor had said; but she saw clearly the San Tome mine possessing, consuming, burning up the life of the last of the Costaguana Goulds; mastering the energetic spirit of the son as it had mastered the lamentable weakness of the father . . . In the indistinct voice of an unlucky sleeper, lying passive in the toils of a merciless nightmare, she stammered out aimlessly the words: 'Material interests.'" (583). It is evident that Mrs. Gould's separation from the one she loves grew into a "merciless nightmare." In contrast, her husband Charles replaces the love of family with "the necessities of successful action which carried with it the moral degradation of the idea. " For Mrs. Gould, the San Tome mine "hung over the Campo, over the whole land, feared, hated, wealthy, more soulless than any tyrant, more pitiless and autocratic than the worst government, ready to crush innumerable lives in the expansion of its greatness." Sadly and tragically, Charles is too blinded by ambition to come to this realization (582). Conrad terms this hubris as his "audacious desire" (116). The author contrasts Gould's loving wife in peaceful nature with the inner tension occurring in Charles Gould's mind, as he contemplates his potential power and wealth from the mine: "Everywhere there were long shadows lying on the hills, on the roads, on the enclosed fields of olive-trees; the shadows of poplars, of wide chestnuts, of farm-buildings, of stone walls; and in mid-air the sound of a bell, thin and alert, was like the throbbing pulse of the sunset glow. Her lips were slightly parted, as though in surprise he should not be looking at her with his usual expression. His usual expression was unconditionally approving and attentive . . . But now he was actually not looking at her at all; and his expression was tense and irrational, as is natural in a man who elects to stare at nothing past a young girl's head" (68-69). On more than one occasion, Conrad alludes to Mrs. Gould as a "good fairy" who is "weary with a long career of well-doing, touched by the withering suspicion of the uselessness of her labors, the powerlessness of her magic" (581). For Conrad, Emilia Gould serves as an Archetypal Muse who fails to persuade Charles to abandon his futile materialistic quest. Unfortunately, the more charming that the author portrays Mrs. Gould, the more adamant her spouse becomes (583). This is yet another of Conrad's fatal ironies.

            Lesser characters such as Decoud, Montrero, Hernandez, Holroyd, Bento, and Monygham also contract what Conrad calls "the deadly disease" and transform into opportunists willing to save themselves and their interests by aligning with whatever faction appears most profitable at the time. Montrero was a local rebel that incited a revolt against the government and "had been received with frenzied acclamations in Nicoya, the provincial capital." He and his brother were "organizing an army, gathering malcontents, and writing in their newspaper "against the sinister land-grabbing designs of European powers, cursing in every issue the miserable [dictator] Ribiera who had plotted to deliver his country, bound hand and foot, for a prey to foreign speculators" (160-161). Martin Decoud, a youthful and idealistic French aristocrat, also attempts to acquire the treasure by accompanying Nostromo on board a ship where they have hidden it. Tragically however, Decoud commits suicide out of loneliness on this deserted land where he and Nostromo have concealed ingots. Conrad describes the young law student's death thus: "The young apostle of Separation had died striving for his idea by an ever-lamented accident. But the truth was that he died from solitude, the enemy known but too few on this earth, and whom only the simplest of us are fit to withstand. The brilliant Costaguanero of the boulevards had died from solitude and want of faith in himself and others" (555). In his own way, Decoud also serves as a tragic hero because of his noble stature, his determination, and the price he pays for underestimating the extent of his suffering and isolation. Like the madness of King Lear wandering in the wilderness, he awaits the arrival of a partner that returns too late for his rescue. In the author's words, "Solitude from mere outward condition of existence becomes very swiftly a state of soul in which the affectations of irony and skepticism have no place. It takes possession of the mind, and drives forth the thought into the exile of utter unbelief" (556). A victim of Conrad's fatalistic view of life, Decoud suffers from his own "intellectual audacity" and is "weighted down by the bars of San Tome silver," as his body disappears into the water "without a trace, swallowed up in the immense indifference of things" (560). Conrad also uses the word audacity to describe Nostromo's hamartia: when he says, "The magnificent capataz de cargadores, victim of the disenchanted vanity which is the reward of audacious action, sat in the weary pose of a hunted outcast through a night of sleeplessness as tormenting as any known to Decoud, his companion in the most desperate affair of his life" (561).Conrad next characterizes Doctor Monygham as "old, ugly, learned—and a little loco –mad, if not a bit of a sorcerer," who "somehow expressed an immense distrust of mankind" (48-49); and Guzman Bento as a "Perpetual President famed for his ruthless and cruel tyranny" who had "put to death great numbers of people besides Charles Gould's uncle" (51). Hernandez is a kind of Robin Hood who joined the military, killed his colonel, and escaped with a band of robbers; yet maintains his own code of ethics by refusing to be bribed, a strong contrast with the political officials and businessmen of the country (119-120). Ironically, these unscrupulous individuals also serve as victims to these various political groups, as many of their deaths attest. In this remote country, the rules of order and protocol do not apply as they would in what western man regards as civilized society. Mrs. Gould ironically suggests in a conversation with a local official, "If it had not been for the lawless tyranny of your government, Don Pepe, many an outlaw now with Hernandez would be living peaceable and happy by the honest work of his hands" (121). This overwhelming tendency toward corruption is the product of western development in the Third World. Instead of producing growth and prosperity, it brings suffering, death, and subterfuge. Another case is the Army of Pacification which typically resorts to violence to maintain the peace (153). Conrad observes , "The irregular report of the firing-squad would be heard, followed sometimes by a single finishing shot; a little bluish cloud of smoke would float up above the green bushes, and the Army of Pacification would move on over the savannas, through the forest, crossing rivers, invading rural pueblos, devastating the haciendas of the horrid aristocrats, occupying the inland towns in the fulfillment of its patriotic mission, and leaving behind a united land wherein the evil taint of Federalism could no longer be detected in the smoke of burning houses and the smell of spilled blood" (153). Another character, Holroyd typifies the western entrepreneur. As his words suggest, "Time itself has got to wait on the greatest country in the whole of God's universe. We shall be giving the word for everything—industry, trade, law, journalism, art, politics, and religion, from Cape Horn clear over to Smith's Sound, and beyond, too, if anything worth taking hold of turns up at the North Pole. And then we shall have the leisure to take in hand the outlying islands and continents of the earth. We shall run the world's business whether the world likes it or not. The world can't help it—and neither can we, I guess" (85). Conrad further characterizes Holroyd as an Anglo-Saxon with "the temperament of a Puritan and an insatiable imagination of conquest," a giant in finance and industry who justifies his faith by decorating local cathedrals with a small fraction of his millions gained from the exploitation of human lives. Mrs. Gould recognizes this irony when she tells her husband, "Ah, yes! The religion of silver and iron. He's a very civil man, though he looked awfully solemn when he first saw the Madonna on the staircase, who's only wood and paint; but he said nothing to me. My dear Charley, I heard those men talk among themselves. Can it be that they really wish to become, for an immense consideration, drawers of water and hewers of wood to all the countries and nations of the earth?" To this, her husband replies, "A man must work to some end" (78). In this passage Conrad clearly suggests the extent to which western capitalists would let their religion of profit and greed carry them. George Bernard Shaw also treats this twisted justification of power and domination in his play Major Barbara, and Conrad reinforces the blindness theme through Charles Gould's fated words about his father that ironically foreshadow his own failure: "Poor father did not understand. He was afraid I would hang on to the ruinous thing, waiting for just some such chance, and waste my life miserably" (80). In its true sense, Conrad criticizes the greed of western industrialism that takes advantage of the helpless, and deceives them into adopting the capitalistic lifestyle all in the name of progress. In essence, Conrad uses this imperialist practice to personify a fate that destroys their lives. Even the father's dismay over his failure with the mine was not enough to dissuade the young Charles from entertaining the prospect. Mrs. Gould recognizes this obsession in her husband, and refuses to place the fortune above the feelings of her heart, culture, and intellectual interests. An "orphan from early childhood," she was not brought up to value personal gain above one's ethical priorities, and for this reason, she too serves as yet another tragic victim in this tale. This, however, is not the case with Charles, her spouse (82). Ironically, the harder Gould's father tries to prevent his son from developing a similar passion over the San Tome mine, the more Charles becomes enamored over the possibility of its success. Conrad says, "The mine had corrupted his judgment by making him sick of bribing and intriguing merely to have his work left alone from day to day. Like his father, he did not like to be robbed" (406). In this context, Nostromo presents a bitter parody of freedom and democracy through the actions of American business bent on exploiting the silver resources of a rural South American village. As Oswald Spengler suggests in The Decline of the West, civilization rests upon the expansion and aggression, rather than the psychological development achieved through culture. The common people of Sulaca did not desire western intervention that filled them with vain hopes of wealth and power. They did not need western corporations forcing them to work countless hours, or even die for the good of American enterprise.

           Nostromo's heroic attributes sadly serve to enhance his tragic proportions. One such quality is the protagonist's courage. On several occasions Nostromo risks his own life to protect the silver interest of the Blancos, in an attempt which ultimately proves futile. He himself admits having "sat alone at night with my revolver in the company's warehouse time and again by the side of that other Englishman's heap of silver, guarding it as though it had been my own" (139). Instead of improving the social conditions of the people, however, the mining company achieves just the opposite by instigating political unrest resulting in civil war and bloodshed. Here again, the poor villagers and the land suffer at the whim of western materialism. Conrad's protagonist similarly falls prey to the temptation of wealth, a lure which causes him to lose his perspective toward humanity and even his life. The author says, "More dangerous to the wielder, too, this weapon of wealth, double-edged with the cupidity and misery of mankind, steeped in all the vices of self-indulgence as in a concoction of poisonous roots, tainting the very cause for which it is drawn, always ready to turn awkwardly in the hand" (406). In this case, Conrad uses irony to reflect the tragic consequences of greed upon the noblest of heroes. In essence, Nostromo shows how industries deceive the public into accepting their propaganda of progress and democracy, when in reality they realize that these goals can only be achieved through intrigue, civil unrest, and open confrontation. Conrad uses irony to criticize the government that that must have war, even if poverty overwhelms its subjects. In Conrad's words, "Whole villages were known to have volunteered for the army in that way; but, as government official Don Pepe would say with a hopeless shrug to Mrs. Gould, 'What would you! Poor people! Pobrecitos! But the state must have its soldiers. ' " (107). Conrad's view in this context is much like Orwell's criticism of any government that uses war to maintain peace. An even greater irony exists in Gould's inability to maintain control of the mine when the local government and rebel groups demand their share, if not all. When Holroyd, the American capitalist poses this question, Gould is too blinded by his own desire to realize the seriousness of the dilemma. According to Holroyd, "The main question for us is whether the second partner, and that's you, is the right sort to hold his own against the third and unwelcome partner, which is one or another of the high and mighty robber gangs that run the Costaguana government" (86-87). In this sense, the blindness theme applies to the characters, companies, governments, and rebel groups alike because all four groups grow too blinded by greed to recognize the impracticality of the project. Charles Gould, for instance, feels that he alone can achieve what his father had failed to do. In a conversation with his wife, Gould says that his father "did not like to be robbed"; however, this is exactly what happens to the younger Gould as well. This irony also applies to the poor country of Costaguana which equally does not care be exploited by western influences, even Gould himself. By this point, Gould's priorities are completely clouded by his lust for power and prestige. He has fallen prey to the deadly poison which consumes him. In his madness, Charles tells his spouse, "What is wanted here is law, good faith, order, security. Anyone can declaim about these things, but I pin my faith to material interests. Only let the material interests once get a firm footing, and they are bound to impose the conditions on which alone they can continue to exist. That's how your money-making is justified here in the face of lawlessness and disorder. It is justified because the security which it demands must be shared with an oppressed people. A better justice will come afterward. That's your ray of hope"(93). By this point, one can see Machiavelli smiling through Gould's logic. Like Hamlet, he now realizes that he must become a part of the evil itself to achieve his goal. Like Ayn Rand's protagonists in The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged, Gould realizes that he stands alone against a corrupt society in order to become a builder of empires. His courage and determination ring loudly in the following passage: "The Gould Concession had to fight for life with such weapons as could be found at once in the mire of a corruption that was so universal as to almost lose its significance. He was prepared to stoop for his weapons. For a moment he felt as if the silver-mine, which had killed his father, had decoyed him farther than he meant to go; and with the roundabout logic of emotions, he felt that the worthiness of his life was bound up with success. There was no going back" (93-94). Conrad's portrayal of Gould's bravery and perseverance make him a tragic hero along with Nostromo. Like Macbeth, Gould's obsession for wealth and power blinds him to the truth; however, his strength and determination not to turn back reflect his heroic stature. Like the Byronic Hero, he stands defiantly shaking his fist in the face of all obstacles. In comparison, Nostromo too is blind to the forces that manipulate him; and ironically, by the time he recognizes the truth and begins to act against it, an unforeseen act of fate takes his life. Like the final act in a Shakespearean tragedy, time is out of joint.

           Another heroic trait of Nostromo's is his indispensability. Early in the story, Conrad describes Nostromo as an "invaluable fellow" (12), one "in a thousand" (107) and as "a sort of universal factotum—a prodigy of efficiency in his own sphere of life" (48). The Oceanic Steam Navigation Company's Captain Mitchell, who prided himself in his estimation of men, describes Nostromo as "one of those invaluable subordinates" and as "a man above reproach" who was loyal (48), resolute (15), and "the terror of all the thieves in the town" (14). The author also says, "Under Providence we owed our preservation to my capataz de cargodores, as they called him in the town, a man who, when I discovered his value, sir, was just the bos'n of an Italian ship, a big Genoese ship, one of the few European ships that ever came