AFamiliarPreface。

Asageneralrulewedonotwantmuchencouragementtotalkaboutourselves;yetthislittlebookistheresultofafriendlysuggestion，andevenofalittlefriendlypressure。Idefendedmyselfwithsomespirit;but，withcharacteristictenacity，thefriendlyvoiceinsisted："Youknow，youreallymust。"

Itwasnotanargument，butIsubmittedatonce。Ifonemust！……

Youperceivetheforceofaword。Hewhowantstopersuadeshouldputhistrust，notintherightargument，butintherightword。Thepowerofsoundhasalwaysbeengreaterthanthepowerofsense。Idon’tsaythisbywayofdisparagement。Itisbetterformankindtobeimpressionablethanreflective。Nothinghumanelygreat——great，Imean，asaffectingawholemassoflives——hascomefromreflection。Ontheotherhand，youcannotfailtoseethepowerofmerewords;suchwordsasGlory，forinstance，orPity。Iwon’tmentionanymore。Theyarenotfartoseek。Shoutedwithperseverance，withardour，withconviction，thesetwobytheirsoundalonehavesetwholenationsinmotionandupheavedthedry，hardgroundonwhichrestsourwholesocialfabric。There’s"virtue"foryouifyoulike！……

Ofcoursetheaccentmustbeattendedto。Therightaccent。

That’sveryimportant。Thecapaciouslung，thethunderingorthetendervocalchords。Don’ttalktomeofyourArchimedes’lever。

Hewasanabsent-mindedpersonwithamathematicalimagination。

Mathematicscommandallmyrespect，butIhavenouseforengines。GivemetherightwordandtherightaccentandIwillmovetheworld。

Whatadream——forawriter！Becausewrittenwordshavetheiraccenttoo。Yes！Letmeonlyfindtherightword！Surelyitmustbelyingsomewhereamongstthewreckageofalltheplaintsandalltheexultationspouredoutaloudsincethefirstdaywhenhope，theundying，camedownonearth。Itmaybethere，closeby，disregarded，invisible，quiteathand。Butit’snogood。I

believetherearemenwhocanlayholdofaneedleinapottleofhayatthefirsttry。Formyself，Ihaveneverhadsuchluck。

Andthenthereisthataccent。Anotherdifficulty。Forwhoisgoingtotellwhethertheaccentisrightorwrongtillthewordisshouted，andfailstobeheard，perhaps，andgoesdown-windleavingtheworldunmoved。OnceuponatimetherelivedanEmperorwhowasasageandsomethingofaliteraryman。Hejotteddownonivorytabletsthoughts，maxims，reflectionswhichchancehaspreservedfortheedificationofposterity。Amongstothersayings——Iamquotingfrommemory——Irememberthissolemnadmonition："Letallthywordshavetheaccentofheroictruth。"

Theaccentofheroictruth！Thisisveryfine，butIamthinkingthatitisaneasymatterforanaustereEmperortojotdowngrandioseadvice。Mostoftheworkingtruthsonthiseartharehumble，notheroic：andtherehavebeentimesinthehistoryofmankindwhentheaccentsofheroictruthhavemovedittonothingbutderision。

Nobodywillexpecttofindbetweenthecoversofthislittlebookwordsofextraordinarypotencyoraccentsofirresistibleheroism。Howeverhumiliatingformyself-esteem，ImustconfessthatthecounselsofMarcusAureliusarenotforme。Theyaremorefitforamoralistthanforanartist。TruthofamodestsortIcanpromiseyou，andalsosincerity。Thatcomplete，praise-worthysinceritywhich，whileitdeliversoneintothehandsofone’senemies，isaslikelyasnottoembroilonewithone’sfriends。

"Embroil"isperhapstoostronganexpression。Ican’timagineeitheramongstmyenemiesormyfriendsabeingsohardupforsomethingtodoastoquarrelwithme。"Todisappointone’sfriends"wouldbenearerthemark。Most，almostall，friendshipsofthewritingperiodofmylifehavecometomethroughmybooks;andIknowthatanovelistlivesinhiswork。Hestandsthere，theonlyrealityinaninventedworld，amongstimaginarythings，happenings，andpeople。Writingaboutthem，heisonlywritingabouthimself。Butthedisclosureisnotcomplete。Heremainstoacertainextentafigurebehindtheveil;asuspectedratherthanaseenpresence——amovementandavoicebehindthedraperiesoffiction。Inthesepersonalnotesthereisnosuchveil。AndIcannothelpthinkingofapassageinthe"ImitationofChrist"wheretheasceticauthor，whoknewlifesoprofoundly，saysthat"therearepersonsesteemedontheirreputationwhobyshowingthemselvesdestroytheopiniononehadofthem。"Thisisthedangerincurredbyanauthoroffictionwhosetsouttotalkabouthimselfwithoutdisguise。

WhilethesereminiscentpageswereappearingseriallyIwasremonstratedwithforbadeconomy;asifsuchwritingwereaformofself-indulgencewastingthesubstanceoffuturevolumes。ItseemsthatIamnotsufficientlyliterary。Indeedamanwhoneverwrotealineforprinttillhewasthirty-sixcannotbringhimselftolookuponhisexistenceandhisexperience，uponthesumofhisthoughts，sensationsandemotions，uponhismemoriesandhisregrets，andthewholepossessionofhispast，asonlysomuchmaterialforhishands。Oncebefore，somethreeyearsago，whenIpublished"TheMirroroftheSea，"avolumeofimpressionsandmemories，thesameremarksweremadetome。Practicalremarks。But，truthtosay，Ihaveneverunderstoodthekindofthrifttheyrecommended。Iwantedtopaymytributetothesea，itsshipsanditsmen，towhomIremainindebtedforsomuchwhichhasgonetomakemewhatIam。ThatseemedtometheonlyshapeinwhichIcouldofferittotheirshades。Therecouldnotbeaquestioninmymindofanythingelse。ItisquitepossiblethatIamabadeconomist;butitiscertainthatIamincorrigible。

Havingmaturedinthesurroundingsandunderthespecialconditionsofsea-life，Ihaveaspecialpietytowardsthatformofmypast;foritsimpressionswerevivid，itsappealdirect，itsdemandssuchascouldberespondedtowiththenaturalelationofyouthandstrengthequaltothecall。Therewasnothinginthemtoperplexayoungconscience。Havingbrokenawayfrommyoriginsunderastormofblamefromeveryquarterwhichhadthemerestshadowofrighttovoiceanopinion，removedbygreatdistancesfromsuchnaturalaffectionsaswerestilllefttome，andevenestranged，inameasure，fromthembythetotallyunintelligiblecharacterofthelifewhichhadseducedmesomysteriouslyfrommyallegiance，Imaysafelysaythatthroughtheblindforceofcircumstancestheseawastobeallmyworldandthemerchantservicemyonlyhomeforalongsuccessionofyears。Nowonderthenthatinmytwoexclusivelyseabooks，"TheNiggerofthe’Narcissus’"and"TheMirroroftheSea"（andinthefewshortseastorieslike"Youth"and"Typhoon"），Ihavetriedwithanalmostfilialregardtorenderthevibrationoflifeinthegreatworldofwaters，intheheartsofthesimplemenwhohaveforagestraverseditssolitudes，andalsothatsomethingsentientwhichseemstodwellinships——thecreaturesoftheirhandsandtheobjectsoftheircare。

One’sliterarylifemustturnfrequentlyforsustenancetomemoriesandseekdiscoursewiththeshades;unlessonehasmadeupone’smindtowriteonlyinordertoreprovemankindforwhatitis，orpraiseitforwhatitisnot，or——generally——toteachithowtobehave。Beingneitherquarrelsome，noraflatterer，norasage，Ihavedonenoneofthesethings;andIampreparedtoputupserenelywiththeinsignificancewhichattachestopersonswhoarenotmeddlesomeinsomewayorother。Butresignationisnotindifference。Iwouldnotliketobeleftstandingasamerespectatoronthebankofthegreatstreamcarryingonwardssomanylives。Iwouldfainclaimformyselfthefacultyofsomuchinsightascanbeexpressedinavoiceofsympathyandcompassion。

Itseemstomethatinone，atleast，authoritativequarterofcriticismIamsuspectedofacertainunemotional，grimacceptanceoffacts;ofwhattheFrenchwouldcallsecheresseducoeur。Fifteenyearsofunbrokensilencebeforepraiseorblametestifysufficientlytomyrespectforcriticism，thatfineflowerofpersonalexpressioninthegardenofletters。Butthisismoreofapersonalmatter，reachingthemanbehindthework，andthereforeitmaybealludedtoinavolumewhichisapersonalnoteinthemarginofthepublicpage。NotthatIfeelhurtintheleast。Thecharge——ifitamountedtoachargeatall——wasmadeinthemostconsiderateterms;inatoneofregret。

Myansweristhatifitbetruethateverynovelcontainsanelementofautobiography——andthiscanhardlybedenied，sincethecreatorcanonlyexpresshimselfinhiscreation——thentherearesomeofustowhomanopendisplayofsentimentisrepugnant。

Iwouldnotundulypraisethevirtueofrestraint。Itisoftenmerelytemperamental。Butitisnotalwaysasignofcoldness。

Itmaybepride。Therecanbenothingmorehumiliatingthantoseetheshaftofone’semotionmissthemarkeitheroflaughterortears。Nothingmorehumiliating！Andthisforthereasonthatshouldthemarkbemissed，shouldtheopendisplayofemotionfailtomove，thenitmustperishunavoidablyindisgustorcontempt。Noartistcanbereproachedforshrinkingfromariskwhichonlyfoolsruntomeetandonlygeniusdareconfrontwithimpunity。Inataskwhichmainlyconsistsinlayingone’ssoulmoreorlessbaretotheworld，aregardfordecency，evenatthecostofsuccess，isbuttheregardforone’sowndignitywhichisinseparablyunitedwiththedignityofone’swork。

Andthen——itisverydifficulttobewhollyjoyousorwhollysadonthisearth。Thecomic，whenitishuman，soontakesuponitselfafaceofpain;andsomeofourgriefs（someonly，notall，foritisthecapacityforsufferingwhichmakesmanaugustintheeyesofmen）havetheirsourceinweaknesseswhichmustberecognisedwithsmilingcompassionasthecommoninheritanceofusall。Joyandsorrowinthisworldpassintoeachother，minglingtheirformsandtheirmurmursinthetwilightoflifeasmysteriousasanover-shadowedocean，whilethedazzlingbrightnessofsupremehopesliesfaroff，fascinatingandstill，onthedistantedgeofthehorizon。

Yes！Itoowouldliketoholdthemagicwandgivingthatcommandoverlaughterandtearswhichisdeclaredtobethehighestachievementofimaginativeliterature。Only，tobeagreatmagicianonemustsurrenderoneselftooccultandirresponsiblepowers，eitheroutsideorwithinone’sownbreast。Wehaveallheardofsimplemensellingtheirsoulsforloveorpowertosomegrotesquedevil。Themostordinaryintelligencecanperceivewithoutmuchreflectionthatanythingofthesortisboundtobeafool’sbargain。Idon’tlayclaimtoparticularwisdombecauseofmydislikeanddistrustofsuchtransactions。Itmaybemysea-trainingactinguponanaturaldispositiontokeepgoodholdontheonethingreallymine，butthefactisthatIhaveapositivehorroroflosingevenforonemovingmomentthatfullpossessionofmyselfwhichisthefirstconditionofgoodservice。AndIhavecarriedmynotionofgoodservicefrommyearlierintomylaterexistence。I，whohaveneversoughtinthewrittenwordanythingelsebutaformoftheBeautiful，Ihavecarriedoverthatarticleofcreedfromthedecksofshipstothemorecircumscribedspaceofmydesk;andbythatact，Isuppose，Ihavebecomepermanentlyimperfectintheeyesoftheineffablecompanyofpureesthetes。

Asinpoliticalsoinliteraryactionamanwinsfriendsforhimselfmostlybythepassionofhisprejudicesandbytheconsistentnarrownessofhisoutlook。ButIhaveneverbeenabletolovewhatwasnotlovableorhatewhatwasnothateful，outofdeferenceforsomegeneralprinciple。WhethertherebeanycourageinmakingthisadmissionIknownot。Afterthemiddleturnoflife’swayweconsiderdangersandjoyswithatranquilmind。SoIproceedinpeacetodeclarethatIhavealwayssuspectedintheefforttobringintoplaytheextremitiesofemotionsthedebasingtouchofinsincerity。Inordertomoveothersdeeplywemustdeliberatelyallowourselvestobecarriedawaybeyondtheboundsofournormalsensibility——innocentlyenoughperhapsandofnecessity，likeanactorwhoraiseshisvoiceonthestageabovethepitchofnaturalconversation——butstillwehavetodothat。Andsurelythisisnogreatsin。Butthedangerliesinthewriterbecomingthevictimofhisownexaggeration，losingtheexactnotionofsincerity，andintheendcomingtodespisetruthitselfassomethingtoocold，toobluntforhispurpose——as，infact，notgoodenoughforhisinsistentemotion。Fromlaughterandtearsthedescentiseasytosnivellingandgiggles。

Thesemayseemselfishconsiderations;butyoucan’t，insoundmorals，condemnamanfortakingcareofhisownintegrity。Itishisclearduty。Andleastofallyoucancondemnanartistpursuing，howeverhumblyandimperfectly，acreativeaim。Inthatinteriorworldwherehisthoughtandhisemotionsgoseekingfortheexperienceofimaginedadventures，therearenopolicemen，nolaw，nopressureofcircumstanceordreadofopiniontokeephimwithinbounds。WhothenisgoingtosayNaytohistemptationsifnothisconscience？

Andbesides——this，remember，istheplaceandthemomentofperfectlyopentalk——Ithinkthatallambitionsarelawfulexceptthosewhichclimbupwardsonthemiseriesorcredulitiesofmankind。Allintellectualandartisticambitionsarepermissible，uptoandevenbeyondthelimitofprudentsanity。

Theycanhurtnoone。Iftheyaremad，thensomuchtheworsefortheartist。Indeed，asvirtueissaidtobe，suchambitionsaretheirownreward。Isitsuchaverymadpresumptiontobelieveinthesovereignpowerofone’sart，totryforothermeans，forotherwaysofaffirmingthisbeliefinthedeeperappealofone’swork？Totrytogodeeperisnottobeinsensible。Anhistorianofheartsisnotanhistorianofemotions，yethepenetratesfurther，restrainedashemaybe，sincehisaimistoreachtheveryfountoflaughterandtears。

Thesightofhumanaffairsdeservesadmirationandpity。Theyareworthyofrespecttoo。Andheisnotinsensiblewhopaysthemtheundemonstrativetributeofasighwhichisnotasob，andofasmilewhichisnotagrin。Resignation，notmystic，notdetached，butresignationopen-eyed，consciousandinformedbylove，istheonlyoneofourfeelingsforwhichitisimpossibletobecomeasham。

NotthatIthinkresignationthelastwordofwisdom。Iamtoomuchthecreatureofmytimeforthat。ButIthinkthattheproperwisdomistowillwhatthegodswillwithoutperhapsbeingcertainwhattheirwillis——oreveniftheyhaveawilloftheirown。AndinthismatteroflifeandartitisnottheWhythatmatterssomuchtoourhappinessastheHow。AstheFrenchmansaid，"Ilyatoujourslamaniere。"Verytrue。Yes。Thereisthemanner。Themannerinlaughter，intears，inirony，inindignationsandenthusiasms，injudgments——andeveninlove。

Themannerinwhich，asinthefeaturesandcharacterofahumanface，theinnertruthisforeshadowedforthosewhoknowhowtolookattheirkind。

Thosewhoreadmeknowmyconvictionthattheworld，thetemporalworld，restsonafewverysimpleideas;sosimplethattheymustbeasoldasthehills。Itrestsnotably，amongstothers，ontheideaofFidelity。AtatimewhennothingwhichisnotrevolutionaryinsomewayorothercanexpecttoattractmuchattentionIhavenotbeenrevolutionaryinmywritings。Therevolutionaryspiritismightyconvenientinthis，thatitfreesonefromallscruplesasregardsideas。Itshard，absoluteoptimismisrepulsivetomymindbythemenaceoffanaticismandintoleranceitcontains。Nodoubtoneshouldsmileatthesethings;but，imperfectEsthete，IamnobetterPhilosopher。Allclaimtospecialrighteousnessawakensinmethatscornandangerfromwhichaphilosophicalmindshouldbefree……

IfearthattryingtobeconversationalIhaveonlymanagedtobeundulydiscursive。Ihaveneverbeenverywellacquaintedwiththeartofconversation——thatartwhich，Iunderstand，issupposedtobelostnow。Myyoungdays，thedayswhenone’shabitsandcharacterareformed，havebeenratherfamiliarwithlongsilences。Suchvoicesasbrokeintothemwereanythingbutconversational。No。Ihaven’tgotthehabit。Yetthisdiscursivenessisnotsoirrelevanttothehandfulofpageswhichfollow。They，too，havebeenchargedwithdiscursiveness，withdisregardofchronologicalorder（whichisinitselfacrime），withunconventionalityofform（whichisanimpropriety）。Iwastoldseverelythatthepublicwouldviewwithdispleasuretheinformalcharacterofmyrecollections。"Alas！"Iprotestedmildly。"CouldIbeginwiththesacramentalwords，’Iwasbornonsuchadateinsuchaplace’？Theremotenessofthelocalitywouldhaverobbedthestatementofallinterest。Ihaven’tlivedthroughwonderfuladventurestoberelatedseriatim。Ihaven’tknowndistinguishedmenonwhomIcouldpassfatuousremarks。I

haven’tbeenmixedupwithgreatorscandalousaffairs。Thisisbutabitofpsychologicaldocument，andevenso，Ihaven’twrittenitwithaviewtoputforwardanyconclusionofmyown。"

Butmyobjectorwasnotplacated。Theseweregoodreasonsfornotwritingatall——notadefenceofwhatstoodwrittenalready，hesaid。

Iadmitthatalmostanything，anythingintheworld，wouldserveasagoodreasonfornotwritingatall。ButsinceIhavewrittenthem，allIwanttosayintheirdefenceisthatthesememoriesputdownwithoutanyregardforestablishedconventionshavenotbeenthrownoffwithoutsystemandpurpose。Theyhavetheirhopeandtheiraim。Thehopethatfromthereadingofthesepagestheremayemergeatlastthevisionofapersonality;

themanbehindthebookssofundamentallydissimilaras，forinstance，"Almayer’sFolly"and"TheSecretAgent"——andyetacoherent，justifiablepersonalitybothinitsoriginandinitsaction。Thisisthehope。Theimmediateaim，closelyassociatedwiththehope，istogivetherecordofpersonalmemoriesbypresentingfaithfullythefeelingsandsensationsconnectedwiththewritingofmyfirstbookandwithmyfirstcontactwiththesea。

Inthepurposelymingledresonanceofthisdoublestrainafriendhereandtherewillperhapsdetectasubtleaccord。

J。C。K。

ChapterI。

Booksmaybewritteninallsortsofplaces。Verbalinspirationmayentertheberthofamarineronboardashipfrozenfastinariverinthemiddleofatown;andsincesaintsaresupposedtolookbenignantlyonhumblebelievers，IindulgeinthepleasantfancythattheshadeofoldFlaubert——whoimaginedhimselftobe（amongstotherthings）adescendantofVikings——mighthavehoveredwithamusedinterestoverthedecksofa2000-tonsteamercalledthe"Adowa，"onboardofwhich，grippedbytheinclementwinteralongsideaquayinRouen，thetenthchapterof"Almayer’sFolly"wasbegun。Withinterest，Isay，forwasnotthekindNormangiantwithenormousmoustachesandathunderingvoicethelastoftheRomantics？Washenot，inhisunworldly，almostascetic，devotiontohisartasortofliterary，saint-likehermit？

"’Ithassetatlast，’saidNinatohermother，pointingtothehillsbehindwhichthesunhadsunk。"……ThesewordsofAlmayer’sromanticdaughterIremembertracingonthegreypaperofapadwhichrestedontheblanketofmybed-place。TheyreferredtoasunsetinMalayanIslesandshapedthemselvesinmymind，inahallucinatedvisionofforestsandriversandseas，farremovedfromacommercialandyetromantictownofthenorthernhemisphere。Butatthatmomentthemoodofvisionsandwordswascutshortbythethirdofficer，acheerfulandcasualyouth，cominginwithabangofthedoorandtheexclamation：

"You’vemadeitjollywarminhere。"

Itwaswarm。Ihadturnedonthesteam-heaterafterplacingatinundertheleakywater-cock——forperhapsyoudonotknowthatwaterwillleakwheresteamwillnot。Iamnotawareofwhatmyyoungfriendhadbeendoingondeckallthatmorning，butthehandsherubbedtogethervigorouslywereveryredandimpartedtomeachillyfeelingbytheirmereaspect。Hehasremainedtheonlybanjoistofmyacquaintance，andbeingalsoayoungersonofaretiredcolonel，thepoemofMr。Kipling，byastrangeaberrationofassociatedideas，alwaysseemstometohavebeenwrittenwithanexclusiveviewtohisperson。Whenhedidnotplaythebanjohelovedtositandlookatit。Heproceededtothissentimentalinspectionandaftermeditatingawhileoverthestringsundermysilentscrutinyinquiredairily：

"Whatareyoualwaysscribblingthere，ifit’sfairtoask？"

Itwasafairenoughquestion，butIdidnotanswerhim，andsimplyturnedthepadoverwithamovementofinstinctivesecrecy：IcouldnothavetoldhimhehadputtoflightthepsychologyofNinaAlmayer，heropeningspeechofthetenthchapterandthewordsofMrs。Almayer’swisdomwhichweretofollowintheominousoncomingofatropicalnight。IcouldnothavetoldhimthatNinahadsaid："Ithassetatlast。"Hewouldhavebeenextremelysurprisedandperhapshavedroppedhispreciousbanjo。NeithercouldIhavetoldhimthatthesunofmysea-goingwassettingtoo，evenasIwrotethewordsexpressingtheimpatienceofpassionateyouthbentonitsdesire。Ididnotknowthismyself，anditissafetosayhewouldnothavecared，thoughhewasanexcellentyoungfellowandtreatedmewithmoredeferencethan，inourrelativepositions，Iwasstrictlyentitledto。

HeloweredatendergazeonhisbanjoandIwentonlookingthroughtheport-hole。Theroundopeningframedinitsbrassrimafragmentofthequays，witharowofcasksrangedonthefrozengroundandthetail-endofagreatcart。Ared-nosedcarterinablouseandawoollennightcapleanedagainstthewheel。Anidle，strollingcustom-houseguard，beltedoverhisbluecapote，hadtheairofbeingdepressedbyexposuretotheweatherandthemonotonyofofficialexistence。Thebackgroundofgrimyhousesfoundaplaceinthepictureframedbymyport-hole，acrossawidestretchofpavedquaybrownwithfrozenmud。Thecolouringwassombre，andthemostconspicuousfeaturewasalittlecafewithcurtainedwindowsandashabbyfrontofwhitewoodwork，correspondingwiththesqualorofthesepoorerquartersborderingtheriver。WehadbeenshifteddowntherefromanotherberthintheneighbourhoodoftheOperaHouse，wherethatsameport-holegavemeaviewofquiteanothersortofcafe——thebestinthetown，Ibelieve，andtheveryonewheretheworthyBovaryandhiswife，theromanticdaughterofoldPereRenault，hadsomerefreshmentafterthememorableperformanceofanoperawhichwasthetragicstoryofLuciadiLammermoorinasettingoflightmusic。

IcouldrecallnomorethehallucinationoftheEasternArchipelagowhichIcertainlyhopedtoseeagain。Thestoryof"Almayer’sFolly"gotputawayunderthepillowforthatday。I

donotknowthatIhadanyoccupationtokeepmeawayfromit;

thetruthofthematteristhatonboardthatshipwewereleadingjustthenacontemplativelife。Iwillnotsayanythingofmyprivilegedposition。Iwasthere"justtooblige，"asanactorofstandingmaytakeasmallpartinthebenefitperformanceofafriend。

AsfarasmyfeelingswereconcernedIdidnotwishtobeinthatsteameratthattimeandinthosecircumstances。AndperhapsI

wasnotevenwantedthereintheusualsenseinwhichaship"wants"anofficer。ItwasthefirstandlastinstanceinmysealifewhenIservedship-ownerswhohaveremainedcompletelyshadowytomyapprehension。Idonotmeanthisforthewell-

knownfirmofLondonship-brokerswhichhadcharteredtheshiptothe，Iwillnotsayshort-lived，butephemeralFranco-CanadianTransportCompany。Adeathleavessomethingbehind，buttherewasneveranythingtangibleleftfromtheF。C。T。C。Itflourishednolongerthanroseslive，andunliketherosesitblossomedinthedeadofwinter，emittedasortoffaintperfumeofadventureanddiedbeforespringsetin。Butindubitablyitwasacompany，ithadevenahouse-flag，allwhitewiththelettersF。C。T。C。

artfullytangledupinacomplicatedmonogram。Weflewitatourmain-masthead，andnowIhavecometotheconclusionthatitwastheonlyflagofitskindinexistence。Allthesameweonboard，formanydays，hadtheimpressionofbeingaunitofalargefleetwithfortnightlydeparturesforMontrealandQuebecasadvertisedinpamphletsandprospectuseswhichcameaboardinalargepackageinVictoriaDock，London，justbeforewestartedforRouen，France。AndintheshadowylifeoftheF。C。T。C。liesthesecretofthat，mylastemploymentinmycalling，whichinaremotesenseinterruptedtherhythmicaldevelopmentofNinaAlmayer’sstory。

ThethensecretaryoftheLondonShipmasters’Society，withitsmodestroomsinFenchurchStreet，wasamanofindefatigableactivityandthegreatestdevotiontohistask。Heisresponsibleforwhatwasmylastassociationwithaship。Icallitthatbecauseitcanhardlybecalledasea-goingexperience。

DearCaptainFroud——itisimpossiblenottopayhimthetributeofaffectionatefamiliarityatthisdistanceofyears——hadverysoundviewsastotheadvancementofknowledgeandstatusforthewholebodyoftheofficersofthemercantilemarine。Heorganisedforuscoursesofprofessionallectures，St。Johnambulanceclasses，correspondedindustriouslywithpublicbodiesandmembersofParliamentonsubjectstouchingtheinterestsoftheservice;andastotheoncomingofsomeinquiryorcommissionrelatingtomattersoftheseaandtotheworkofseamen，itwasaperfectgodsendtohisneedofexertinghimselfonourcorporatebehalf。Togetherwiththishighsenseofhisofficialdutieshehadinhimaveinofpersonalkindness，astrongdispositiontodowhatgoodhecouldtotheindividualmembersofthatcraftofwhichinhistimehehadbeenaveryexcellentmaster。Andwhatgreaterkindnesscanonedotoaseamanthantoputhiminthewayofemployment？CaptainFrouddidnotseewhytheShipmasters’Society，besidesitsgeneralguardianshipofourinterests，shouldnotbeunofficiallyanemploymentagencyoftheveryhighestclass。

"Iamtryingtopersuadeallourgreatship-owningfirmstocometousfortheirmen。Thereisnothingofatrade-unionspiritaboutoursociety，andIreallydon’tseewhytheyshouldnot，"

hesaidoncetome。"Iamalwaystellingthecaptains，too，thatallthingsbeingequaltheyoughttogivepreferencetothemembersofthesociety。InmypositionIcangenerallyfindforthemwhattheywantamongstourmembersorourassociatemembers。"

InmywanderingsaboutLondonfromWesttoEastandbackagain（I

wasveryidlethen）thetwolittleroomsinFenchurchStreetwereasortofresting-placewheremyspirit，hankeringafterthesea，couldfeelitselfnearertotheships，themen，andthelifeofitschoice——nearertherethanonanyotherspotofthesolidearth。Thisresting-placeusedtobe，ataboutfiveo’clockintheafternoon，fullofmenandtobaccosmoke，butCaptainFroudhadthesmallerroomtohimselfandtherehegrantedprivateinterviews，whoseprincipalmotivewastorenderservice。Thus，onemurkyNovemberafternoonhebeckonedmeinwithacrookedfingerandthatpeculiarglanceabovehisspectacleswhichisperhapsmystrongestphysicalrecollectionoftheman。

"Ihavehadinhereashipmaster，thismorning，"hesaid，gettingbacktohisdeskandmotioningmetoachair，"whoisinwantofanofficer。It’sforasteamship。Youknow，nothingpleasesmemorethantobeasked，butunfortunatelyIdonotquiteseemyway……"

AstheouterroomwasfullofmenIcastawonderingglanceatthecloseddoorbutheshookhishead。

"Oh，yes，Ishouldbeonlytoogladtogetthatberthforoneofthem。Butthefactofthematteris，thecaptainofthatshipwantsanofficerwhocanspeakFrenchfluently，andthat’snotsoeasytofind。Idonotknowanybodymyselfbutyou。It’sasecondofficer’sberthand，ofcourse，youwouldnotcare……

wouldyounow？Iknowthatitisn’twhatyouarelookingfor。"

Itwasnot。Ihadgivenmyselfuptotheidlenessofahauntedmanwholooksfornothingbutwordswhereintocapturehisvisions。ButIadmitthatoutwardlyIresembledsufficientlyamanwhocouldmakeasecondofficerforasteamercharteredbyaFrenchcompany。IshowednosignofbeinghauntedbythefateofNinaandbythemurmursoftropicalforests;andevenmyintimateintercoursewithAlmayer（apersonofweakcharacter）hadnotputavisiblemarkuponmyfeatures。Formanyyearsheandtheworldofhisstoryhadbeenthecompanionsofmyimaginationwithout，I

hope，impairingmyabilitytodealwiththerealitiesofsealife。Ihadhadthemanandhissurroundingswithmeeversincemyreturnfromtheeasternwaters，somefouryearsbeforethedayofwhichIspeak。

Itwasinthefrontsitting-roomoffurnishedapartmentsinaPimlicosquarethattheyfirstbegantoliveagainwithavividnessandpoignancyquiteforeigntoourformerrealintercourse。Ihadbeentreatingmyselftoalongstayonshore，andinthenecessityofoccupyingmymornings，Almayer（thatoldacquaintance）camenoblytotherescue。Beforelong，aswasonlyproper，hiswifeanddaughterjoinedhimroundmytableandthentherestofthatPantaibandcamefullofwordsandgestures。

Unknowntomyrespectablelandlady，itwasmypracticedirectlyaftermybreakfasttoholdanimatedreceptionsofMalays，Arabsandhalf-castes。Theydidnotclamouraloudformyattention。

Theycamewithasilentandirresistibleappeal——andtheappeal，Iaffirmhere，wasnottomyself-loveormyvanity。Itseemsnowtohavehadamoralcharacter，forwhyshouldthememoryofthesebeings，seenintheirobscuresun-bathedexistence，demandtoexpressitselfintheshapeofanovel，exceptonthegroundofthatmysteriousfellowshipwhichunitesinacommunityofhopesandfearsallthedwellersonthisearth？

Ididnotreceivemyvisitorswithboisterousraptureasthebearersofanygiftsofprofitorfame。TherewasnovisionofaprintedbookbeforemeasIsatwritingatthattable，situatedinadecayedpartofBelgravia。Afteralltheseyears，eachleavingitsevidenceofslowlyblackenedpages，Icanhonestlysaythatitisasentimentakintopietywhichpromptedmetorenderinwordsassembledwithconscientiouscarethememoryofthingsfardistantandofmenwhohadlived。

But，comingbacktoCaptainFroudandhisfixedideaofneverdisappointingship-ownersorship-captains，itwasnotlikelythatIshouldfailhiminhisambition——tosatisfyatafewhours’noticetheunusualdemandforaFrench-speakingofficer。

HeexplainedtomethattheshipwascharteredbyaFrenchcompanyintendingtoestablisharegularmonthlylineofsailingsfromRouen，forthetransportofFrenchemigrantstoCanada。

But，frankly，thissortofthingdidnotinterestmeverymuch。

IsaidgravelythatifitwerereallyamatterofkeepingupthereputationoftheShipmasters’Society，Iwouldconsiderit。Buttheconsiderationwasjustforform’ssake。ThenextdayI

interviewedtheCaptain，andIbelievewewereimpressedfavourablywitheachother。Heexplainedthathischiefmatewasanexcellentmanineveryrespectandthathecouldnotthinkofdismissinghimsoastogivemethehigherposition;butthatifIconsentedtocomeassecondofficerIwouldbegivencertainspecialadvantages——andsoon。

ItoldhimthatifIcameatalltherankreallydidnotmatter。

"Iamsure，"heinsisted，"youwillgetonfirstratewithMr。

Paramor。"

Ipromisedfaithfullytostayfortwotripsatleast，anditwasinthosecircumstancesthatwhatwastobemylastconnectionwithashipbegan。Andafteralltherewasnotevenonesingletrip。Itmaybethatitwassimplythefulfilmentofafate，ofthatwrittenwordonmyforeheadwhichapparentlyforbademe，throughallmyseawanderings，evertoachievethecrossingoftheWesternOcean——usingthewordsinthatspecialsenseinwhichsailorsspeakofWesternOceantrade，ofWesternOceanpackets，ofWesternOceanhardcases。Thenewlifeattendedcloselyupontheoldandtheninechaptersof"Almayer’sFolly"wentwithmetotheVictoriaDock，whenceinafewdayswestartedforRouen。

Iwon’tgosofarassayingthattheengagingofamanfatednevertocrosstheWesternOceanwastheabsolutecauseoftheFranco-CanadianTransportCompany’sfailuretoachieveevenasinglepassage。Itmighthavebeenthatofcourse;buttheobvious，grossobstaclewasclearlythewantofmoney。Fourhundredandsixtybunksforemigrantswereputtogetherinthe’tweendecksbyindustriouscarpenterswhilewelayintheVictoriaDock，butneveranemigrantturnedupinRouen——ofwhich，beingahumaneperson，IconfessIwasglad。SomegentlemenfromParis——Ithinktherewerethreeofthem，andonewassaidtobetheChairman——turnedupindeedandwentfromendtoendoftheship，knockingtheirsilkhatscruellyagainstthedeck-beams。Iattendedthempersonally，andIcanvouchforitthattheinteresttheytookinthingswasintelligentenough，though，obviously，theyhadneverseenanythingofthesortbefore。Theirfacesastheywentashoreworeacheerfullyinconclusiveexpression。Notwithstandingthatthisinspectingceremonywassupposedtobeapreliminarytoimmediatesailing，itwasthen，astheyfileddownourgangway，thatIreceivedtheinwardmonitionthatnosailingwithinthemeaningofourcharter-partywouldevertakeplace。

Itmustbesaidthatinlessthanthreeweeksamovetookplace。

Whenwefirstarrivedwehadbeentakenupwithmuchceremonywelltowardsthecentreofthetown，and，allthestreetcornersbeingplacardedwiththetricolourpostersannouncingthebirthofourcompany，thepetitbourgeoiswithhiswifeandfamilymadeaSundayholidayfromtheinspectionoftheship。IwasalwaysinevidenceinmybestuniformtogiveinformationasthoughI

hadbeenaCook’stourists’interpreter，whileourquarter-

mastersreapedaharvestofsmallchangefrompersonallyconductedparties。Butwhenthemovewasmade——thatmovewhichcarriedussomemileandahalfdownthestreamtobetieduptoanaltogethermuddierandshabbierquay——thenindeedthedesolationofsolitudebecameourlot。Itwasacompleteandsoundlessstagnation;for，aswehadtheshipreadyforseatothesmallestdetail，asthefrostwashardandthedaysshort，wewereabsolutelyidle——idletothepointofblushingwithshamewhenthethoughtstruckusthatallthetimeoursalarieswenton。YoungColewasaggrievedbecause，ashesaid，wecouldnotenjoyanysortoffunintheeveningafterloafinglikethisallday：eventhebanjolostitscharmsincetherewasnothingtopreventhisstrummingonitallthetimebetweenthemeals。ThegoodParamor——hewasreallyamostexcellentfellow——becameunhappyasfaraswaspossibletohischeerynature，tillonedrearydayIsuggested，outofsheermischief，thatheshouldemploythedormantenergiesofthecrewinhaulingbothcablesupondeckandturningthemendforend。

ForamomentMr。Paramorwasradiant。"Excellentidea！"butdirectlyhisfacefell。"Why……Yes！Butwecan’tmakethatjoblastmorethanthreedays，"hemuttereddiscontentedly。I

don’tknowhowlongheexpectedustobestuckontheriversideoutskirtsofRouen，butIknowthatthecablesgothauledupandturnedendforendaccordingtomysatanicsuggestion，putdownagain，andtheirveryexistenceutterlyforgotten，Ibelieve，beforeaFrenchriverpilotcameonboardtotakeourshipdown，emptyasshecame，intotheHavreroads。YoumaythinkthatthisstateofforcedidlenessfavouredsomeadvanceinthefortunesofAlmayerandhisdaughter。Yetitwasnotso。Asifitweresomesortofevilspell，mybanjoistcabin-mate’sinterruption，asrelatedabove，hadarrestedthemshortatthepointofthatfatefulsunsetformanyweekstogether。Itwasalwaysthuswiththisbook，begunin’89andfinishedin’94——withthatshortestofallthenovelswhichitwastobemylottowrite。BetweenitsopeningexclamationcallingAlmayertohisdinnerinhiswife’svoiceandAbdullah’s（hisenemy）mentalreferencetotheGodofIslam——"TheMerciful，theCompassionate"——whichclosesthebook，thereweretocomeseverallongseapassages，avisit（tousetheelevatedphraseologysuitabletotheoccasion）tothescenes（someofthem）ofmychildhoodandtherealisationofchildhood’svainwords，expressingalight-heartedandromanticwhim。

Itwasin1868，whennineyearsoldorthereabouts，thatwhilelookingatamapofAfricaofthetimeandputtingmyfingerontheblankspacethenrepresentingtheunsolvedmysteryofthatcontinent，Isaidtomyselfwithabsoluteassuranceandanamazingaudacitywhicharenolongerinmycharacternow：

"WhenIgrowupIshallgothere。"

AndofcourseIthoughtnomoreaboutittillafteraquarterofacenturyorsoanopportunityofferedtogothere——asifthesinofchildishaudacityweretobevisitedonmymaturehead。Yes。

Ididgothere：therebeingtheregionofStanleyFallswhichin’68wastheblankestofblankspacesontheearth’sfiguredsurface。AndtheMS。of"Almayer’sFolly，"carriedaboutmeasifitwereatalismanoratreasure，wenttheretoo。ThatitevercameoutofthereseemsaspecialdispensationofProvidence;becauseagoodmanyofmyotherproperties，infinitelymorevaluableandusefultome，remainedbehindthroughunfortunateaccidentsoftransportation。Icalltomind，forinstance，aspeciallyawkwardturnoftheCongobetweenKinchassaandLeopoldsville——moreparticularlywhenonehadtotakeitatnightinabigcanoewithonlyhalfthepropernumberofpaddlers。Ifailedinbeingthesecondwhitemanonrecorddrownedatthatinterestingspotthroughtheupsettingofacanoe。ThefirstwasayoungBelgianofficer，buttheaccidenthappenedsomemonthsbeforemytime，andhe，too，Ibelieve，wasgoinghome;notperhapsquitesoillasmyself——butstillhewasgoinghome。Igotroundtheturnmoreorlessalive，thoughI

wastoosicktocarewhetherIdidornot，and，alwayswith"Almayer’sFolly"amongstmydiminishingbaggage，IarrivedatthatdelectablecapitalBoma，wherebeforethedepartureofthesteamerwhichwastotakemehomeIhadthetimetowishmyselfdeadoverandoveragainwithperfectsincerity。Atthatdatetherewereinexistenceonlysevenchaptersof"Almayer’sFolly，"

butthechapterinmyhistorywhichfollowedwasthatofalong，longillnessandverydismalconvalescence。Geneva，ormorepreciselythehydropathicestablishmentofChampel，isrenderedforeverfamousbytheterminationoftheeighthchapterinthehistoryofAlmayer’sdeclineandfall。Theeventsoftheninthareinextricablymixedupwiththedetailsofthepropermanagementofawatersidewarehouseownedbyacertaincityfirmwhosenamedoesnotmatter。Butthatwork，undertakentoaccustommyselfagaintotheactivitiesofahealthyexistence，sooncametoanend。Theearthhadnothingtoholdmewithforverylong。Andthenthatmemorablestory，likeacaskofchoiceMadeira，gotcarriedforthreeyearstoandfrouponthesea。

Whetherthistreatmentimproveditsflavourornot，ofcourseI

wouldnotliketosay。Asfarasappearanceisconcerneditcertainlydidnothingofthekind。ThewholeMS。acquiredafadedlookandanancient，yellowishcomplexion。ItbecameatlastunreasonabletosupposethatanythingintheworldwouldeverhappentoAlmayerandNina。Andyetsomethingmostunlikelytohappenonthehighseaswastowakethemupfromtheirstateofsuspendedanimation。

WhatisitthatNovalissays？"Itiscertainmyconvictiongainsinfinitelythemomentanothersoulwillbelieveinit。"Andwhatisanovelifnotaconvictionofourfellow-men’sexistencestrongenoughtotakeuponitselfaformofimaginedlifeclearerthanrealityandwhoseaccumulatedverisimilitudeofselectedepisodesputstoshametheprideofdocumentaryhistory？

ProvidencewhichsavedmyMS。fromtheCongorapidsbroughtittotheknowledgeofahelpfulsoulfaroutontheopensea。Itwouldbeonmypartthegreatestingratitudeevertoforgetthesallow，sunkenfaceandthedeep-set，darkeyesoftheyoungCambridgeman（hewasa"passengerforhishealth"onboardthegoodshipTorrensoutwardboundtoAustralia）whowasthefirstreaderof"Almayer’sFolly"——theveryfirstreaderIeverhad。

"WoulditboreyouverymuchreadingaMS。inahandwritinglikemine？"IaskedhimoneeveningonasuddenimpulseattheendofalongishconversationwhosesubjectwasGibbon’sHistory。

Jacques（thatwashisname）wassittinginmycabinonestormydog-watchbelow，afterbringingmeabooktoreadfromhisowntravellingstore。

"Notatall，"heansweredwithhiscourteousintonationandafaintsmile。AsIpulledadraweropenhissuddenlyarousedcuriositygavehimawatchfulexpression。Iwonderwhatheexpectedtosee。Apoem，maybe。Allthat’sbeyondguessingnow。

Hewasnotacoldbutacalmman，stillmoresubduedbydisease——

amanoffewwordsandofanunassumingmodestyingeneralintercourse，butwithsomethinguncommoninthewholeofhispersonwhichsethimapartfromtheundistinguishedlotofoursixtypassengers。Hiseyeshadathoughtfulintrospectivelook。

Inhisattractivereservedmanner，andinaveiledsympatheticvoiceheasked：

"Whatisthis？""Itisasortoftale，"Iansweredwithaneffort。"Itisnotevenfinishedyet。NeverthelessIwouldliketoknowwhatyouthinkofit。"HeputtheMS。inthebreast-

pocketofhisjacket;Irememberperfectlyhisthinbrownfingersfoldingitlengthwise。"Iwillreadittomorrow，"heremarked，seizingthedoor-handle，andthen，watchingtherolloftheshipforapropitiousmoment，heopenedthedoorandwasgone。InthemomentofhisexitIheardthesustainedboomingofthewind，theswishofthewateronthedecksoftheTorrens，andthesubdued，asifdistant，roaroftherisingsea。Inotedthegrowingdisquietinthegreatrestlessnessoftheocean，andrespondedprofessionallytoitwiththethoughtthatateighto’clock，inanotherhalf-hourorsoatthefurthest，thetop-gallantsailswouldhavetocomeofftheship。

Nextday，butthistimeinthefirstdog-watch，Jacquesenteredmycabin。Hehadathick，woollenmufflerroundhisthroatandtheMS。wasinhishand。Hetenderedittomewithasteadylookbutwithoutaword。Itookitinsilence。Hesatdownonthecouchandstillsaidnothing。Iopenedandshutadrawerundermydesk，onwhichafilled-uplog-slatelaywideopeninitswoodenframewaitingtobecopiedneatlyintothesortofbookI

wasaccustomedtowritewithcare，theship’slog-book。Iturnedmybacksquarelyonthedesk。AndeventhenJacquesneverofferedaword。"Well，whatdoyousay？"Iaskedatlast。"Isitworthfinishing？"Thisquestionexpressedexactlythewholeofmythoughts。

"Distinctly，"heansweredinhissedate，veiledvoiceandthencoughedalittle。

"Wereyouinterested？"Iinquiredfurtheralmostinawhisper。

"Verymuch！"

InapauseIwentonmeetinginstinctivelytheheavyrollingoftheship，andJacquesputhisfeetuponthecouch。Thecurtainofmybed-placeswungtoandfroasitwereapunkah，thebulkheadlampcircledinitsgimbals，andnowandthenthecabindoorrattledslightlyinthegustsofwind。Itwasinlatitude40south，andnearlyinthelongitudeofGreenwich，asfarasI

canremember，thatthesequietritesofAlmayer’sandNina’sresurrectionweretakingplace。Intheprolongedsilenceitoccurredtomethattherewasagooddealofretrospectivewritinginthestoryasfarasitwent。Wasitintelligibleinitsaction，Iaskedmyself，asifalreadythestory-tellerwerebeingbornintothebodyofaseaman。ButIheardondeckthewhistleoftheofficerofthewatchandremainedonthealerttocatchtheorderthatwastofollowthiscalltoattention。Itreachedmeasafaint，fierceshoutto"Squaretheyards。"

"Aha！"Ithoughttomyself，"awesterlyblowcomingon。"ThenI

turnedtomyveryfirstreaderwho，alas！wasnottolivelongenoughtoknowtheendofthetale。

"Nowletmeaskyouonemorething：isthestoryquitecleartoyouasitstands？"

Heraisedhisdark，gentleeyestomyfaceandseemedsurprised。

"Yes！Perfectly。"

ThiswasallIwastohearfromhislipsconcerningthemeritsof"Almayer’sFolly。"Weneverspoketogetherofthebookagain。A

longperiodofbadweathersetinandIhadnothoughtsleftbutformyduties，whilstpoorJacquescaughtafatalcoldandhadtokeepcloseinhiscabin。WhenwearrivedinAdelaidethefirstreaderofmyprosewentatonceup-country，anddiedrathersuddenlyintheend，eitherinAustraliaoritmaybeonthepassagewhilegoinghomethroughtheSuezCanal。Iamnotsurewhichitwasnow，andIdonotthinkIeverheardprecisely;

thoughImadeinquiriesabouthimfromsomeofourreturnpassengerswho，wanderingaboutto"seethecountry"duringtheship’sstayinport，hadcomeuponhimhereandthere。Atlastwesailed，homewardbound，andstillnotonelinewasaddedtothecarelessscrawlofthemanypageswhichpoorJacqueshadhadthepatiencetoreadwiththeveryshadowsofEternitygatheringalreadyinthehollowsofhiskind，steadfasteyes。

Thepurposeinstilledintomebyhissimpleandfinal"Distinctly"remaineddormant，yetalivetoawaititsopportunity。IdaresayIamcompelled，unconsciouslycompelled，nowtowritevolumeaftervolume，asinpastyearsIwascompelledtogotoseavoyageaftervoyage。Leavesmustfollowuponeachotherasleaguesusedtofollowinthedaysgoneby，onandontotheappointedend，which，beingTruthitself，isOne——

oneforallmenandforalloccupations。

Idonotknowwhichofthetwoimpulseshasappearedmoremysteriousandmorewonderfultome。Still，inwriting，asingoingtosea，Ihadtowaitmyopportunity。LetmeconfessherethatIwasneveroneofthosewonderfulfellowsthatwouldgoafloatinawash-tubforthesakeofthefun，andifImaypridemyselfuponmyconsistency，itwaseverjustthesamewithmywriting。Somemen，Ihaveheard，writeinrailwaycarriages，andcoulddoit，perhaps，sittingcross-leggedonaclothes-line;butImustconfessthatmysybariticdispositionwillnotconsenttowritewithoutsomethingatleastresemblingachair。Linebyline，ratherthanpagebypage，wasthegrowthof"Almayer’sFolly。"

AndsoithappenedthatIverynearlylosttheMS。，advancednowtothefirstwordsoftheninthchapter，intheFriedrichstrasserailwaystation（that’sinBerlin，youknow），onmywaytoPoland，ormorepreciselytoUkraine。Onanearly，sleepymorningchangingtrainsinahurryIleftmyGladstonebaginarefreshment-room。AworthyandintelligentKoffertragerrescuedit。YetinmyanxietyIwasnotthinkingoftheMS。butofalltheotherthingsthatwerepackedinthebag。

InWarsaw，whereIspenttwodays，thosewanderingpageswereneverexposedtothelight，exceptonce，tocandle-light，whilethebaglayopenonachair。Iwasdressinghurriedlytodineatasportingclub。Afriendofmychildhood（hehadbeenintheDiplomaticService，buthadturnedtogrowingwheatonpaternalacres，andwehadnotseeneachotherforovertwentyyears）wassittingonthehotelsofawaitingtocarrymeoffthere。

"Youmighttellmesomethingofyourlifewhileyouaredressing，"hesuggestedkindly。

IdonotthinkItoldhimmuchofmylife-storyeitherthenorlater。Thetalkoftheselectlittlepartywithwhichhemademedinewasextremelyanimatedandembracedmostsubjectsunderheaven，frombig-gameshootinginAfricatothelastpoempublishedinaverymodernistreview，editedbytheveryyoungandpatronisedbythehighestsociety。Butitnevertouchedupon"Almayer’sFolly，"andnextmorning，inuninterruptedobscurity，thisinseparablecompanionwentonrollingwithmeinthesouth-

eastdirectiontowardstheGovernmentofKiev。

Atthattimetherewasaneight-hours’drive，ifnotmore，fromtherailwaystationtothecountryhousewhichwasmydestination。

"Dearboy"（thesewordswerealwayswritteninEnglish），soranthelastletterfromthathousereceivedinLondon，——"Getyourselfdriventotheonlyinnintheplace，dineaswellasyoucan，andsometimeintheeveningmyownconfidentialservant，factotumandmajor-domo，aMr。V。S。（Iwarnyouheisofnobleextraction），willpresenthimselfbeforeyou，reportingthearrivalofthesmallsledgewhichwilltakeyouhereonthenextday。Isendwithhimmyheaviestfur，whichIsupposewithsuchovercoatsasyoumayhavewithyouwillkeepyoufromfreezingontheroad。"

Sureenough，asIwasdining，servedbyaHebrewwaiter，inanenormousbarn-likebedroomwithafreshlypaintedfloor，thedooropenedand，inatravellingcostumeoflongboots，bigsheep-skincapandashortcoatgirtwithaleatherbelt，theMr。V。S。（ofnobleextraction），amanofaboutthirty-five，appearedwithanairofperplexityonhisopenandmoustachioedcountenance。I

gotupfromthetableandgreetedhiminPolish，with，Ihope，therightshadeofconsiderationdemandedbyhisnoblebloodandhisconfidentialposition。Hisfaceclearedupinawonderfulway。Itappearedthat，notwithstandingmyuncle’searnestassurances，thegoodfellowhadremainedindoubtofourunderstandingeachother。HeimaginedIwouldtalktohiminsomeforeignlanguage。Iwastoldthathislastwordsongettingintothesledgetocometomeetmeshapedananxiousexclamation：

"Well！Well！HereIamgoing，butGodonlyknowshowIamtomakemyselfunderstoodtoourmaster’snephew。"

Weunderstoodeachotherverywellfromthefirst。HetookchargeofmeasifIwerenotquiteofage。Ihadadelightfulboyishfeelingofcominghomefromschoolwhenhemuffledmeupnextmorninginanenormousbear-skintravelling-coatandtookhisseatprotectivelybymyside。Thesledgewasaverysmalloneanditlookedutterlyinsignificant，almostlikeatoybehindthefourbigbaysharnessedtwoandtwo。Wethree，countingthecoachman，filleditcompletely。Hewasayoungfellowwithclearblueeyes;thehighcollarofhisliveryfurcoatframedhischeerycountenanceandstoodallroundlevelwiththetopofhishead。

"Now，Joseph，"mycompanionaddressedhim，"doyouthinkweshallmanagetogethomebeforesix？"Hisanswerwasthatwewouldsurely，withGod’shelp，andprovidingtherewerenoheavydriftsinthelongstretchbetweencertainvillageswhosenamescamewithanextremelyfamiliarsoundtomyears。Heturnedoutanexcellentcoachmanwithaninstinctforkeepingtheroadamongstthesnow-coveredfieldsandanaturalgiftofgettingthebestoutofhishorses。

"HeisthesonofthatJosephthatIsupposetheCaptainremembers。HewhousedtodrivetheCaptain’slategrandmotherofholymemory，"remarkedV。S。busytuckingfurrugsaboutmyfeet。

IrememberedperfectlythetrustyJosephwhousedtodrivemygrandmother。Why！heitwaswholetmeholdthereinsforthefirsttimeinmylifeandallowedmetoplaywiththegreatfour-

in-handwhipoutsidethedoorsofthecoach-house。

"Whatbecameofhim？"Iasked。"Heisnolongerserving，I

suppose。"

"Heservedourmaster，"wasthereply。"Buthediedofcholeratenyearsagonow——thatgreatepidemicwehad。Andhiswifediedatthesametime——thewholehousefulofthem，andthisistheonlyboythatwasleft。"

TheMS。of"Almayer’sFolly"wasreposinginthebagunderourfeet。

IsawagainthesunsettingontheplainsasIsawitinthetravelsofmychildhood。Itset，clearandred，dippingintothesnowinfullviewasifitweresettingonthesea。Itwastwenty-threeyearssinceIhadseenthesunsetoverthatland;

andwedroveoninthedarknesswhichfellswiftlyuponthelividexpanseofsnowstill，outofthewasteofawhiteearthjoiningabestarredsky，surgedupblackshapes，theclumpsoftreesaboutavillageoftheUkrainianplain。Acottageortwoglidedby，alowinterminablewallandthen，glimmeringandwinkingthroughascreenoffir-trees，thelightsofthemaster’shouse。

ThatveryeveningthewanderingMS。of"Almayer’sFolly"wasunpackedandunostentatiouslylaidonthewriting-tableinmyroom，theguest-roomwhichhadbeen，Iwasinformedinanaffectedlycarelesstone，awaitingmeforsomefifteenyearsorso。Itattractednoattentionfromtheaffectionatepresencehoveringroundthesonofthefavouritesister。

"Youwon’thavemanyhourstoyourselfwhileyouarestayingwithme，brother，"hesaid——thisformofaddressborrowedfromthespeechofourpeasantsbeingtheusualexpressionofthehighestgoodhumourinamomentofaffectionateelation。"Ishallbealwayscominginforachat。"

Asamatteroffactwehadthewholehousetochatin，andwereeverlastinglyintrudinguponeachother。Iinvadedtheretirementofhisstudywheretheprincipalfeaturewasacolossalsilverinkstandpresentedtohimonhisfiftiethyearbyasubscriptionofallhiswardsthenliving。Hehadbeenguardianofmanyorphansofland-owningfamiliesfromthethreesouthernprovinces——eversincetheyear1860。Someofthemhadbeenmyschoolfellowsandplaymates，butnotoneofthem，girlsorboys，thatIknowofhaseverwrittenanovel。Oneortwowereolderthanmyself——considerablyolder，too。Oneofthem，avisitorIrememberinmyearlyyears，wasthemanwhofirstputmeonhorseback，andhisfour-horsebachelorturn-out，hisperfecthorsemanshipandgeneralskillinmanlyexerciseswasoneofmyearliestadmirations。Iseemtoremembermymotherlookingonfromacolonnadeinfrontofthedining-roomwindowsasIwaslifteduponthepony，held，forallIknow，bytheveryJoseph——

thegroomattachedspeciallytomygrandmother’sservice——whodiedofcholera。Itwascertainlyayoungmaninadarkblue，tail-lesscoatandhugeCossacktrousers，thatbeingtheliveryofthemenaboutthestables。Itmusthavebeenin1864，butreckoningbyanothermodeofcalculatingtime，itwascertainlyintheyearinwhichmymotherobtainedpermissiontotravelsouthandvisitherfamily，fromtheexileintowhichshehadfollowedmyfather。Forthat，too，shehadhadtoaskpermission，andIknowthatoneoftheconditionsofthatfavourwasthatsheshouldbetreatedexactlyasacondemnedexileherself。Yetacoupleofyearslater，inmemoryofhereldestbrotherwhohadservedintheGuardsanddyingearlylefthostsoffriendsandalovedmemoryinthegreatworldofSt。

Petersburg，someinfluentialpersonagesprocuredforherthispermission——itwasofficiallycalledthe"HighestGrace"——ofathreemonths’leavefromexile。

ThisisalsotheyearinwhichIfirstbegintoremembermymotherwithmoredistinctnessthanamereloving，wide-browed，silent，protectingpresence，whoseeyeshadasortofcommandingsweetness;andIalsorememberthegreatgatheringofalltherelationsfromnearandfar，andthegreyheadsofthefamilyfriendspayingherthehomageofrespectandloveinthehouseofherfavouritebrotherwho，afewyearslater，wastotaketheplaceformeofbothmyparents。

Ididnotunderstandthetragicsignificanceofitallatthetime，thoughindeedIrememberthatdoctorsalsocame。Therewerenosignsofinvalidismabouther——butIthinkthatalreadytheyhadpronouncedherdoomunlessperhapsthechangetoasouthernclimatecouldre-establishherdecliningstrength。Formeitseemstheveryhappiestperiodofmyexistence。Therewasmycousin，adelightfulquick-temperedlittlegirl，somemonthsyoungerthanmyself，whoselife，lovinglywatchedover，asifshewerearoyalprincess，cametoanendwithherfifteenthyear。

Therewereotherchildren，too，manyofwhomaredeadnow，andnotafewwhoseverynamesIhaveforgotten。OverallthishungtheoppressiveshadowofthegreatRussianEmpire——theshadowloweringwiththedarknessofanew-bornnationalhatredfosteredbytheMoscowschoolofjournalistsagainstthePolesaftertheill-omenedrisingof1863。

ThisisafarcrybackfromtheMS。of"Almayer’sFolly，"butthepublicrecordoftheseformativeimpressionsisnotthewhimofanuneasyegotism。These，too，arethingshuman，alreadydistantintheirappeal。Itismeetthatsomethingmoreshouldbeleftforthenovelist’schildrenthanthecoloursandfiguresofhisownhard-woncreation。Thatwhichintheirgrown-upyearsmayappeartotheworldaboutthemasthemostenigmaticsideoftheirnaturesandperhapsmustremainforeverobscureeventothemselves，willbetheirunconsciousresponsetothestillvoiceofthatinexorablepastfromwhichhisworkoffictionandtheirpersonalitiesareremotelyderived。

Onlyinmen’simaginationdoeseverytruthfindaneffectiveandundeniableexistence。Imagination，notinvention，isthesuprememasterofartasoflife。Animaginativeandexactrenderingofauthenticmemoriesmayserveworthilythatspiritofpietytowardsallthingshumanwhichsanctionstheconceptionsofawriteroftales，andtheemotionsofthemanreviewinghisownexperience。

ChapterII。

AsIhavesaid，IwasunpackingmyluggageafterajourneyfromLondonintoUkraine。TheMS。of"Almayer’sFolly"——mycompanionalreadyforsomethreeyearsormore，andthenintheninthchapterofitsage——wasdepositedunostentatiouslyonthewriting-tableplacedbetweentwowindows。Itdidn’toccurtometoputitawayinthedrawerthetablewasfittedwith，butmyeyewasattractedbythegoodformofthesamedrawer’sbrasshandles。Twocandelabrawithfourcandleseachlightedupfestallytheroomwhichhadwaitedsomanyyearsforthewanderingnephew。Theblindsweredown。

WithinfivehundredyardsofthechaironwhichIsatstoodthefirstpeasanthutofthevillage——partofmymaternalgrandfather’sestate，theonlypartremaininginthepossessionofamemberofthefamily;andbeyondthevillageinthelimitlessblacknessofawinter’snighttherelaythegreatunfencedfields——notaflatandsevereplain，butakindlybread-

givinglandoflowroundedridges，allwhitenow，withtheblackpatchesoftimbernestlinginthehollows。TheroadbywhichI

hadcomeranthroughthevillagewithaturnjustoutsidethegatesclosingtheshortdrive。Somebodywasabroadonthedeepsnowtrack;aquicktinkleofbellsstolegraduallyintothestillnessoftheroomlikeatunefulwhisper。

Myunpackinghadbeenwatchedoverbytheservantwhohadcometohelpme，and，forthemostpart，hadbeenstandingattentivebutunnecessaryatthedooroftheroom。Ididnotwanthimintheleast，butIdidnotliketotellhimtogoaway。Hewasayoungfellow，certainlymorethantenyearsyoungerthanmyself;Ihadnotbeen——Iwon’tsayinthatplacebutwithinsixtymilesofit，eversincetheyear’67;yethisguilelessphysiognomyoftheopenpeasanttypeseemedstrangelyfamiliar。Itwasquitepossiblethathemighthavebeenadescendant，asonorevenagrandson，oftheservantswhosefriendlyfaceshadbeenfamiliartomeinmyearlychildhood。Asamatteroffacthehadnosuchclaimonmyconsideration。Hewastheproductofsomevillagenearbyandwasthereonhispromotion，havinglearnedtheserviceinoneortwohousesaspantry-boy。IknowthisbecauseIaskedtheworthyV——nextday。Imightwellhavesparedthequestion。Idiscoveredbeforelongthatallthefacesaboutthehouseandallthefacesinthevillage：thegravefaceswithlongmoustachesoftheheadsoffamilies，thedownyfacesoftheyoungmen，thefacesofthelittlefair-hairedchildren，thehandsome，tanned，wide-browedfacesofthemothersseenatthedoorsofthehutswereasfamiliartomeasthoughIhadknownthemallfromchildhood，andmychildhoodwereamatterofthedaybeforeyesterday。

Thetinkleofthetraveller’sbels，aftergrowinglouder，hadfadedawayquickly，andthetumultofbarkingdogsinthevillagehadcalmeddownatlast。Myuncle，lounginginthecornerofasmallcouch，smokedhislongTurkishchiboukinsilence。

"Thisisanextremelynicewriting-tableyouhavegotformyroom，"Iremarked。

"Itisreallyyourproperty，"hesaid，keepinghiseyesonme，withaninterestedandwistfulexpressionashehaddoneeversinceIhadenteredthehouse。"Fortyyearsagoyourmotherusedtowriteatthisverytable。InourhouseinOratowitstoodinthelittlesitting-roomwhich，byatacitarrangement，wasgivenuptothegirls——Imeantoyourmotherandhersisterwhodiedsoyoung。ItwasapresenttothemjointlyfromouruncleNicholasB。whenyourmotherwasseventeenandyouraunttwoyearsyounger。Shewasaverydear，delightfulgirl，thatauntofyours，ofwhomIsupposeyouknownothingmorethanthename。

Shedidnotshinesomuchbypersonalbeautyandacultivatedmind，inwhichyourmotherwasfarsuperior。Itwashergoodsense，theadmirablesweetnessofhernature，herexceptionalfacilityandeaseindailyrelationsthatendearedhertoeverybody。Herdeathwasaterriblegriefandaseriousmorallossforusall。Hadshelivedshewouldhavebroughtthegreatestblessingstothehouseitwouldhavebeenherlottoenter，aswife，motherandmistressofahousehold。Shewouldhavecreatedroundherselfanatmosphereofpeaceandcontentwhichonlythosewhocanloveunselfishlyareabletoevoke。

Yourmother——offargreaterbeauty，exceptionallydistinguishedinperson，mannerandintellect——hadalesseasydisposition。

Beingmorebrilliantlygiftedshealsoexpectedmorefromlife。

Atthattryingtimeespecially，weweregreatlyconcernedaboutherstate。Sufferinginherhealthfromtheshockofherfather’sdeath（shewasaloneinthehousewithhimwhenhediedsuddenly），shewastornbytheinwardstrugglebetweenherloveforthemanwhomshewastomarryintheendandherknowledgeofherdeadfather’sdeclaredobjectiontothatmatch。Unabletobringherselftodisregardthatcherishedmemoryandthatjudgmentshehadalwaysrespectedandtrusted，and，ontheotherhand，feelingtheimpossibilitytoresistasentimentsodeepandsotrue，shecouldnothavebeenexpectedtopreservehermentalandmoralbalance。Atwarwithherself，shecouldnotgivetoothersthatfeelingofpeacewhichwasnotherown。Itwasonlylater，whenunitedatlastwiththemanofherchoicethatshedevelopedthoseuncommongiftsofmindandheartwhichcompelledtherespectandadmirationevenofourfoes。Meetingwithcalmfortitudethecrueltrialsofalifereflectingallthenationalandsocialmisfortunesofthecommunity，sherealisedthehighestconceptionsofdutyasawife，amotherandapatriot，sharingtheexileofherhusbandandrepresentingnoblytheidealofPolishwomanhood。OurUncleNicholaswasnotamanveryaccessibletofeelingsofaffection。ApartfromhisworshipforNapoleontheGreat，helovedreally，Ibelieve，onlythreepeopleintheworld：hismother——yourgreat-grandmother，whomyouhaveseenbutcannotpossiblyremember;hisbrother，ourfather，inwhosehousehelivedforsomanyyears;andofallofus，hisnephewsandniecesgrownuproundhim，yourmotheralone。Themodest，lovablequalitiesoftheyoungestsisterhedidnotseemabletosee。ItwasIwhofeltmostprofoundlythisunexpectedstrokeofdeathfallinguponthefamilylessthanayearafterI

hadbecomeitshead。Itwasterriblyunexpected。Drivinghomeonewintryafternoontokeepmecompanyinouremptyhouse，whereIhadtoremainpermanentlyadministeringtheestateandattendingtothecomplicatedaffairs——（thegirlstookitinturnweekandweekabout）——driving，asIsaid，fromthehouseoftheCountessTeklaPotochka，whereourinvalidmotherwasstayingthentobenearadoctor，theylosttheroadandgotstuckinasnowdrift。ShewasalonewiththecoachmanandoldValery，thepersonalservantofourlatefather。Impatientofdelaywhiletheyweretryingtodigthemselvesout，shejumpedoutofthesledgeandwenttolookfortheroadherself。Allthishappenedin’51，nottenmilesfromthehouseinwhichwearesittingnow。

Theroadwassoonfound，butsnowhadbeguntofallthicklyagain，andtheywerefourmorehoursgettinghome。Boththementookofftheirsheepskin-linedgreat-coatsandusedalltheirownrugstowrapherupagainstthecold，notwithstandingherprotests，positiveordersandevenstruggles，asValeryafterwardsrelatedtome。’HowcouldI，’heremonstratedwithher，’gotomeettheblessedsoulofmylatemasterifIletanyharmcometoyouwhilethere’sasparkoflifeleftinmybody？’

Whentheyreachedhomeatlastthepooroldmanwasstiffandspeechlessfromexposure，andthecoachmanwasinnotmuchbetterplight，thoughhehadthestrengthtodriveroundtothestableshimself。Tomyreproachesforventuringoutatallinsuchweather，sheansweredcharacteristicallythatshecouldnotbearthethoughtofabandoningmetomycheerlesssolitude。Itisincomprehensiblehowitwasthatshewasallowedtostart。I

supposeithadtobe！Shemadelightofthecoughwhichcameonnextday，butshortlyafterwardsinflammationofthelungssetin，andinthreeweeksshewasnomore！Shewasthefirsttobetakenawayoftheyounggenerationundermycare。Beholdthevanityofallhopesandfears！Iwasthemostfrailatbirthofallthechildren。ForyearsIremainedsodelicatethatmyparentshadbutlittlehopeofbringingmeup;andyetIhavesurvivedfivebrothersandtwosisters，andmanyofmycontemporaries;Ihaveoutlivedmywifeanddaughtertoo——andfromallthosewhohavehadsomeknowledgeatleastoftheseoldtimesyoualoneareleft。Ithasbeenmylottolayinanearlygravemanyhonesthearts，manybrilliantpromises，manyhopesfulloflife。"

Hegotupbrusquely，sighed，andleftme，saying："Wewilldineinhalfanhour。"WithoutmovingIlistenedtohisquickstepsresoundingonthewaxedfloorofthenextroom，traversingtheante-roomlinedwithbookshelves，wherehepausedtoputhischiboukinthepipe-standbeforepassingintothedrawing-room（thesewereallensuite），wherehebecameinaudibleonthethickcarpet。ButIheardthedoorofhisstudy-bedroomclose。Hewasthensixty-twoyearsoldandhadbeenforaquarterofacenturythewisest，thefirmest，themostindulgentofguardians，extendingovermeapaternalcareandaffection，amoralsupportwhichIseemedtofeelalwaysnearmeinthemostdistantpartsoftheearth。

AstoMr。NicholasB。，sub-lieutenantof1808，lieutenantof1813

intheFrenchArmy，andforashorttimeOfficierd’OrdonnanceofMarshalMarmont;afterwardsCaptaininthe2ndRegimentofMountedRiflesinthePolishArmy——suchasitexistedupto1830

inthereducedkingdomestablishedbytheCongressofVienna——I

mustsaythatfromallthatmoredistantpast，knowntometraditionallyandalittledevisu，andcalledoutbythewordsofthemanjustgoneaway，heremainsthemostincompletefigure。

ItisobviousthatImusthaveseenhimin’64，foritiscertainthathewouldnothavemissedtheopportunityofseeingmymotherforwhathemusthaveknownwouldbethelasttime。Frommyearlyboyhoodtothisday，ifItrytocalluphisimage，asortofmistrisesbeforemyeyes，amistinwhichIperceivevaguelyonlyaneatlybrushedheadofwhitehair（whichisexceptionalinthecaseoftheB。family，whereitistheruleformentogobaldinabecomingmanner，beforethirty）andathin，curved，dignifiednose，afeatureinstrictaccordancewiththephysicaltraditionoftheB。family。Butitisnotbythesefragmentaryremainsofperishablemortalitythathelivesinmymemory。I

knew，ataveryearlyage，thatmygrand-uncleNicholasB。wasaKnightoftheLegionofHonourandthathehadalsothePolishCrossforvalourVirtutiMilitari。Theknowledgeofthesegloriousfactsinspiredinmeanadmiringveneration;yetitisnotthatsentiment，strongasitwas，whichresumesformetheforceandthesignificanceofhispersonality。Itisoverbornebyanotherandcompleximpressionofawe，compassionandhorror。

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