“It was another of Nostromo's triumphs, the greatest, the most enviable, the most sinister of all. In that true cry of undying passion that seemed to ring aloud from Punta Mala to Azuera and away to the bright line of the horizon, overhung by a big white cloud shining like a mass of solid silver, the genius of the magnificent Capataz de Cargadores dominated the dark gulf containing his conquests of treasure and love.”
In Joseph Conrad's quote, he encapsulates the complexity of human ambition, merging themes of conquest and desire within the context of Nostromo’s triumphs. This passage invites the reader to explore the duality of success and its implications.
The phrase “It was another of Nostromo's triumphs” highlights the repeated nature of success, suggesting that triumph can be both a serial experience and an unfurling narrative woven into the fabric of Nostromo’s journey. However, the subsequent adjectives—“the greatest, the most enviable, the most sinister”—present a dichotomy that emphasizes the darker undertones of victory.
The use of “sinister” creates a stark contrast against the idea of something being enviable. This duality may imply that what is often celebrated or desired can also harbor hidden dangers or moral complexities. Conrad invites the reader to reflect on what it means for a triumph to be both glorious yet morally ambiguous.
Additionally, the imagery in “true cry of undying passion” evokes a sense of overwhelming intensity tied to both “treasure and love.” This suggests that the pursuit of wealth and affection is intertwined, perhaps indicating that human desires drive the quest for conquest, yet can lead to dire consequences. The description also signals a natural connection almost ethereal, as it stretches “from Punta Mala to Azuera”, suggesting an expansive reach of influence and ambition.
The phrase “overhung by a big white cloud shining like a mass of solid silver” evokes a stunning visual, where beauty overlays a potential foreboding—the cloud could symbolize both hope and impending obscurity. This sets a picturesque yet ominous tone, reflecting how triumph can mask deeper vulnerabilities.
Lastly, mentioning “the genius of the magnificent Capataz de Cargadores” signifies the power of leadership and skill, yet it also implies a sense of responsibility burdened with the weight of ambition. Here, the Capataz emerges as a complex character—renowned yet perhaps flawed—illustrating that great leadership comes with both accolades and moral challenges.
In summary, Conrad’s quote intricately weaves together elements of ambition, consequence, and the human condition, encouraging a multifaceted examination of what it means to triumph.
“It is a great doctor for sore hearts and sore heads, too, your ship’s routine, which I have seen soothe—at least for a time—the most turbulent of spirits. There is health in it, and peace, and satisfaction of the accomplished round; for each day of the ship’s life seems to close a circle within the wide ring of the sea horizon. It borrows a certain dignity of sameness from the majestic monotony of the sea. He who loves the sea loves also the ship’s routine.”
“The edge of a colossal jungle, so dark-green as to be almost black, fringed with white surf, ran straight, like a ruled line, far, far, away along blue sea whose glitter was blurred by a creeping mist.”
“I slipped the book into my pocket. I assure you to leave off reading was like tearing myself away from the shelter of an old and solid friendship.”
“The conquest of the earth, which mostly means the taking it away from those who have a different complexion or slightly flatter noses than ourselves, is not a pretty thing when you look into it too much. What redeems it is the idea only. An idea at the back of it, not a sentimental pretence but an idea: and an unselfish belief in the idea--something you can set up, and bow down before, and offer a sacrifice to...”
“His last word—to live with,' she murmured. 'Don't you understand I loved him—I loved him—I loved him!'"I pulled myself together and spoke slowly."'The last word he pronounced was—your name.'"I heard a light sigh, and then my heart stood still, stopped dead short by an exulting and terrible cry, by the cry of inconceivable triumph and of unspeakable pain. 'I knew it—I was sure!' . . . She knew. She was sure. I heard her weeping; she had hidden her face in her hands. It seemed to me that the house would collapse before I could escape, that the heavens would fall upon my head. But nothing happened. The heavens do not fall for such a trifle. Would they have fallen, I wonder, if I had rendered Kurtz that justice which was his due? Hadn't he said he wanted only justice? But I couldn't. I could not tell her. It would have been too dark—too dark altogether. . . ."Marlow ceased, and sat apart, indistinct and silent, in the pose of a meditating Buddha. Nobody moved for a time. "We have lost the first of the ebb," said the Director, suddenly. I raised my head. The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds, and the tranquil waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed somber under an overcast sky—seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness.”
“The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds, and the tranquil water-way leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed somber under an overcast sky--seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness.”