Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea / Savage Civilizations
Besides, are they worse than others, these whom you call savages?” “But Captain——” “How many have you counted?” “A hundred at least.” “M. Aronnax,” replied Captain Nemo, placing his fingers on the organ stops, “when all the natives of Papua are assembled on this shore, the _Nautilus_ will have nothing to fear from their attacks.” The Captain’s fingers were then running over the keys of the instrument, and I remarked that he touched only the black keys, which gave his melodies an essentially Scotch character.
Microstory
The sun dipped low, casting elongated shadows along the shore as Captain Nemo's fingers danced over the organ's black keys, each note resonating with the pulse of a restless ocean. M. Aronnax, caught between awe and trepidation, felt the weight of the Captain's gaze—were the Papuans truly 'savages', or mere reflections of a society lost to its own arrogance? As whispers of the distant natives reached their ears, the melodies swelled, intertwining hope and despair, reminding them that beneath the surface, all lives are but fragile notes in a vast, unyielding symphony. (AI-generated story)
Captain Nemo's assertion about the Papuan natives reflects a significant tension between civilized and savage identities, a theme prevalent in 19th-century literature exploring imperialism and cultural encounters. By invoking the notion of 'savages', the dialogue encapsulates the colonial mindset while simultaneously revealing Nemo's complex character—a man who defies societal conventions yet grapples with his own moral compass. The choice of music, particularly the emphasis on black keys, suggests a deeper emotional resonance, symbolizing both harmony and discord inherent in Nemo's existence. This moment serves as a microcosm of Jules Verne's broader critique of colonial attitudes and the multifaceted nature of humanity, challenging readers to reconsider the definitions of civilization and savagery. (AI-generated commentary)