Gaspar Ruiz Book

"'[…] As a boy I fought for liberty; I've always believed in the equality of men; and as to their brotherhood, that, to my mind, is even more certain. Look at the fierce animosity they display in their differences. And what in the world do you know that is more bitterly fierce than brothers' quarrels?'"

Shortly written after Nostromo (1904), the tale Gaspar Ruiz takes us yet again to the South American continent and dips us into the bloody battles, the betrayals and intrigues of the Chilean war of independence. Gaspar Ruiz, a somewhat simple-minded peasant of remarkable strength, is facing his execution for defection when after joining the Republican army, not so much out of conviction as simply because circumstances led him into this, he is taken prisoner by the Royalists and pressed into their own ranks and later taken prisoner again by the Republicans. He miraculously survives the shooting and is nursed back to health by Erminia, daughter to a Spanish couple who lost everything they had when the Republicans took over their province. Erminia, consumed by hatred of the liberty fighters, knows well how to make use of the gullible young man that falls in love with her, turning him into the tool of her vengeance.

There is a lot that happens in this story, and Conrad cleverly uses both the general Santierra, who tells of his experiences with Ruiz some decades ago, and the omniscient narrator, who seems to be one of the English people is telling his story to, in order to unravel the events, avoiding getting a one-sided angle in the narrative voice. In fact, the omniscient narrator is often quite cynic, for example when he gives us details about the execution:

"A red and unclouded sun setting into a purple ocean looked with a fiery stare upon the enormous wall of the Cordilleras, worthy witnesses of his glorious extinction. But it is inconceivable that it should have seen the ant-like men busy with their absurd and insignificant trials of killing and dying for reasons that, apart from being generally childish, were also imperfectly understood. It did light up, however, the backs of the firing party and the faces of the condemned men. […]

The sergeant with a naked sword in his hand strolled away by himself along the heap of the dead. He was a humane man, and watched for any stir or twitch of limb in the merciful idea of plunging the point of his blade into any body giving the slightest sign of life. But none of the bodies afforded him an opportunity for the display of this charitable intention. […]

[Gaspar Ruiz] was lying face down. The sergeant recognized him by his stature, and bing himself a very small man, looked with envy and contempt at the prostration of so much strength."

Gaspar Ruiz shows us the war of South American liberation not so much as a political spectacle but as one of human beings wrestling with their passions: There is Gaspar himself, who simply fumes at the injustice of finding himself branded as a deserter, without a chance to prove his innocence. Had he not planned, after being equipped with a musket and made to march for the Royalists, to flee their ranks whenever the first promising opportunity would offer itself? Admittedly, the reader cannot help thinking that he would just as well have fought for the Spanish loyalists, if it had been they who would have first arrived at his parental ranch because "[H]is people were in too humble a station to feel much the disadvantage of any form of government." Later, his whole being is invaded by an unquestioning, overwhelming love for the vindictive, implacable Erminia, and after each feat he accomplishes against the Republicans, he rides up to her in order to get a long-yearned-for acknowledgement of love from her face - it seems as though he were only acting for the sake of this woman. In the final battle, he even allows the cannon to be mounted on his back, risking his spine being broken from the recoil of the gun, because he thinks that there is no other way of liberating his wife and his daughter, who are being held hostages by the enemy. We are not so much witnessing a civil war but a family drama, and this may be the case because, at the end of the day, politics and ideals count for nothing when it comes to the human soul and its passions.

Gaspar Ruiz not only sheds critical light on the arena of politics and soi-disant noble ideals, but also on any kind of morality, as can be seen in the narrator's comment on proverbs, which runs like this:

"'Every bullet has its billet,' runs the proverb. All the merit of proverbs consists in the concise and picturesque expression. In the surprise of our minds is found their persuasiveness. In other words, we are struck and convinced by the shock.

What surprises us is the form, not the substance. Proverbs are art - cheap art. As a general rule they are not true; unless indeed they happen to be mere platitudes, as for instance the proverb, 'Half a loaf is better than no bread,' or 'A miss is as good as a mile.' Some proverbs are simply imbecile, others are immoral. That one evolved out of the naive heart of the great Russian people, 'Man discharges the piece, but God carries the bullet,' is piously atrocious, and at bitter variance with the accepted conception of a compassionate God. It would indeed be an inconsistent occupation for the Guardian of the poor, the innocent, and the helpless, to carry the bullet, for instance, into the heart of a father."

Ironically, the story ends in words from the narrator Santierra, which also do the trick of imparting a conveniently prepared lesson, all nicely tucked-up: "'[…] the strong man who perished through his own strength: the strength of his body, of his simplicity - of his love!'"