Mr. Vladimir employs the idiom "charabia" to express his confusion with and disdain for the convoluted language of leftist publications. As The Secret Agent progresses, Mr. Vladimir becomes increasingly frustrated with the jargon he encounters:
‘H’m. Some of your revolutionary friends’ effusions are written in a charabia every bit as incomprehensible as Chinese –’ Mr. Vladimir let fall disdainfully a grey sheet of printed matter. ‘What are all these leaflets headed F.P., with a hammer, pen, and torch crossed? What does it mean, this F.P.?’ Mr. Verloc approached the imposing writing-table.
The idiom "charabia," stemming from French, translates to "gibberish." By using this term, Conrad demonstrates Vladimir's clear frustration with the confusing and seemingly pointless political discourse of the time. The word “effusions” as it’s used here means “unrestrained expressions” or “outpourings” of emotions or opinions. By using this term, Conrad characterizes the Future of the Proletariat as being—in Vladimir's view—nothing more than enthusiastic, unrestrained gibberish.
By comparing this "charabia" to Chinese, which presumably would have been foreign and impossible to read for Vladimir, Conrad emphasizes the opacity of political jargon for the non-specialist reader. He also highlights the cultural and ideological distance felt by Mr. Vladimir from the anarchists who publish The Future of the Proletariat. This analogy reflects a Eurocentric perspective common to the period, where things written in Chinese might have been viewed as alien to a European audience.
Conrad uses visual imagery, personification, and idiom in this passage to describe the sultry, tense atmosphere of London. Although the city is opulent and its colors are bright and rich, there is still an underlying sense of unease:
Carriages went bowling by, mostly two-horse broughams, with here and there a victoria with the skin of some wild beast inside and a woman’s face and hat emerging above the folded hood. And a peculiarly London sun – against which nothing could be said except that it looked bloodshot – glorified all this by its stare. It hung at a moderate elevation above Hyde Park Corner with an air of punctual and benign vigilance.
The sun casts a red glow over the scene, seeming so present that it behaves like a character with agency. The narrator personifies it, described as having a "bloodshot" look like a strained eyeball and a "benign vigilance.” It's as if the sun itself is a weary observer of the city's activities, hanging lazily and unmovingly a “moderate” distance away from the scene. The sun's "moderate elevation" and "punctual" nature further emphasize its involvement in the specific locale Conrad describes. It’s a “peculiarly London sun,” as if it’s only present in that place, and only watching the people living there.
The depiction of the carriages, especially the "victoria" with "the skin of some wild beast inside," creates a picture of luxury and opulence. This scene is alive with visual descriptions of movement, the vehicles "bowling by" suggesting the rapid pace of the surroundings. The mention of "victoria" here is idiomatic: it’s both a type of carriage and a reference to the young women within them. A “Victoria” is a type of carriage, usually doorless and drawn by one or two horses. However, as the story is set in late 1800s London, the term could also allude to young women of affluence. People often named their children after monarchs and—especially as Queen Victoria was popular with much of the population—many children were named in her honor. A “victoria” in this context could refer to any young girl. This play on words adds a layer of period-specific local color to the passage.
By the end of the novel, Ossipon is a shadow of his former self, abandoning his once fiery revolutionary convictions. Conrad uses situational irony and the idiom of the "sandwich board" to portray Ossipon's fall from revolutionary grace and his bleak prospects. Despondent and lost, Ossipon expresses his grim outlook:
‘I am seriously ill,’ he muttered to himself with scientific insight. Already his robust form, with an Embassy’s secret-service money (inherited from Mr. Verloc) in his pockets, was marching in the gutter as if in training for the task of an inevitable future. Already he bowed his broad shoulders, his head of ambrosial locks, as if ready to receive the leather yoke of the sandwich board.
The situational irony here is intense. Ossipon, once a fiery revolutionary, is now totally diminished by Winnie's death. The cowardly choices he made, which he believes were a major factor in her suicide, have mentally unhinged him. The reader might expect him to use the money he has stolen or his connections with the anarchists to perform further acts of disruption. Instead, he “bows” his head in shame as he prepares to “marc[h] in the gutter.” "I am seriously ill," he reflects introspectively, hinting at his spiraling mental state. Even though he has the ill-gotten money from Verloc, Ossipon envisions a future where he's reduced to meandering aimlessly along city streets. This image of Ossipon "marching in the gutter" not only denotes his downfall but also the erosion of his principles and ideals.
The idiom "sandwich board" refers to a type of advertising placard worn over the shoulders. In the Victorian period, people wearing sandwich boards would walk around cities as living advertisements for the brands or events the “boards” described. This image further underscores Ossipon’s total degradation. Now, instead of championing change and rebellion, or using his physical body as a tool to undermine the work of his capitalist enemies, he will use it to advertise their goods and services. Far from being an author of highly academic political pamphlets, he sees his “inevitable future” as being quite the opposite. Indeed, he seems destined to become a literal poster-boy for capitalism, a tragic twist of fate.
