Summary and Analysis of Part One
A ship called the Nellie is cruising down the Thames--it will rest there as it awaits a change in tide. The narrator is an unidentified guest aboard the ship. He describes at length the appearance of the Thames as an interminable waterway, and then he describes the inhabitants of the ship. The Director of Companies doubles as Captain and host. They all regard him with affection, trust, and respect. The Lawyer is advanced in years and possesses many virtues. The Accountant is toying with dominoes, trying to begin a game. They already share the "bond of the sea." They are tolerant of one another.
Then there is Marlow. He has an emaciated appearance--sunken cheeks and a yellow complexion. The ship drops anchor, but nobody wants to begin the dominoes game. They sit meditatively at the sun, and the narrator takes great notice of how the water changes as the sun sets. Marlow suddenly speaks, noting that "this also has been one of the dark places of the earth." He is a man who does not represent his class: he is a seaman but also a wanderer, which is disdainful and odd, since most seamen live sedentary lives aboard the ship that is their home. No one responds to the remark, and Marlow continues to talk of olden times when the Romans arrived and brought light, which even now is constantly flickering. He says those people were not colonists but conquerors, taking everything by brute force. This "taking of the earth is not a pretty thing" when examined too closely; it is the idea behind it which people find redeeming. Then, to the dismay of his bored listeners, he switches into narration of a life experience: how he decided to be a fresh water sailor after coming into contact with colonization.
As a child, Marlow had a passion for maps, and he would lose himself in the blank spaces, which gradually turned into dark ones as they became peopled. He was especially taken with the picture of a long, coiling river. In his tale, after a number of voyages in the Orient and India, Marlow hopes to get charge of the steamboats that must go up and down that river for trade. Marlow looks for a ship, but he has hard luck finding a position. His aunt has connections in the Administration and writes to have him appointed a steamboat skipper. The appointment comes through very quickly, and Marlow is to take the place of Fresleven, a captain who was killed in a scuffle with the natives. He crosses the Channel to sign the contract with his employers.
Their office appears to him like a white sepulcher; the reception area is dimly lit. Two women sullenly man the area. Marlow notes an unfinished map, and he sees that he is going into the yellow section, the central area that holds the river. He signs but feels very uneasy as the women look at him meaningfully. Then there is a visit to the doctor. Marlow questions why he is not with the Company on its business. The doctor becomes cool and says he is no fool. Changes take place out there. He asks his patient whether there is madness in the family. With a clean bill of health and a long goodbye chat with his aunt, Marlow sets out on a French steamer, feeling like an "impostor."
Watching the coast as it slips by, the new skipper marvels at its enigmatic quality--it tempts and invites the seer to come ashore, but in a grim way. The weather is fierce, for the sun beats down strongly. The ship picks up others along the way, mainly soldiers and clerks. The trade names they pass on ships and on land seem almost farcical. There is a uniformly somber atmosphere. After a month, Marlow arrives at the mouth of the big river and takes his passage on a little steamer. Once aboard he learns that a man picked up the other day hanged himself recently.
He is taken to his Company's station. He walks through pieces of "decaying machinery" and observes a stream of black people walking slowly, very thin and indifferent. One of the "reclaimed" carries a rifle at "its middle." Marlow walks around to avoid this chain gang and finds a shade to rest. He sees more black people working, some who look like they are dying. One young man looks particularly hungry, and Marlow offers him the ship biscuit in his pocket. He notices that the boy is wearing white worsted around his neck, and he wonders what this is for. Marlow hastily makes his way towards the station. He meets a white man dressed elegantly and in perfect fashion. He is "amazing" and a "miracle." After learning that he is the Chief Accountant of the Company, Marlow respects him. The station is a muddle of activity.
The new skipper waits there for ten days, living in a hut. Frequently he visits the accountant, who tells him that he will meet Mr. Kurtz, a remarkable man in charge of the trading post in the ivory country. The Accountant is irritated that a bed station for a dying man has been set up in his office. He remarks that he begins to "hate the savages to death." He asks Marlow to tell Kurtz that everything is satisfactory.
The next day Marlow begins a 200 mile tramp into the interior. He crosses many paths, many deserted dwellings, and mysterious black men. His white companion becomes ill on the journey, which makes Marlow impatient but attentive. Finally they arrive at the Central Station, and Marlow must see the General Manager. The meeting is strange. The Manager has a stealthy smile. He is obeyed, but he does not inspire love or fear. He only inspires uneasiness. The trading had begun without Marlow, who was late. There were rumors that an important station was in jeopardy and that its chief, Kurtz, was ill. A shipwreck on Marlow's boat has set them back.
The manager is anxious and says it will be three months before they can make a full start in the trading. Marlow begins work in the station. Whispers of "ivory" punctuate the air throughout the days. One evening a shed almost burns down. A black man is beaten for this, and Marlow overhears: "Kurtz take advantage of this incident." The manager's main spy, a first-class agent, befriends the new skipper and begins to question him extensively about Europe and the people he knows there. Marlow is confused about what this man hopes to learn. The agent becomes "furiously annoyed."
There is a dark sketch on his wall of a woman blindfolded and carrying a lighted torch. The agent says that Kurtz painted it. Upon Marlow's inquiry about who this man is, he says that he is a prodigy, an "emissary of pity and science." They want Europe to entrust the guidance of the cause to them. The agent talks precipitately, wanting Marlow to give Kurtz a favorable report about his disposition because he believes Marlow has more influence in Europe than he actually does.
The narrator breaks off for an instant and returns to his listeners on the ship, saying that they should be able to see more in retrospect than he could in the moment. Back in the story, he is bored by the droning of the agent. Marlow wants rivets to stop the hole and get on with the work on his ship. He clambers aboard. The ship is the one thing that truly excites him. He notes the foreman of the mechanics sitting onboard. They cavort and talk happily of rivets that should arrive in three weeks. Instead of rivets, however, they receive an "invasion" of "sulky" black men with their white expedition leader, who is the Manager's uncle. Marlow meditates for a bit on Kurtz, wondering if he will be promoted to General Manger and how he will set about his work when there.
Analysis
A logical way to begin analyzing the tale is by applying the title to the novel. "Darkness" is a problematic word with several meanings. It is initially mentioned in the context of maps, where places of darkness have been colored in once they have been explored and settled by colonists. The map is an important symbol. It is a guide, a record of exploration. The incomplete map has a dual purpose in that maps unlock mysteries, on the one hand, by laying out the geography of unknown lands for new visitors, and on the other hand, by creating new mystery and inspiring new curiosity about the lands listed as unknown, in addition to new questions about what is only partly known. The river is another important symbol, perhaps our first symbol of the “heart,” which is itself a symbol of the human spirit. Always moving, not very predictable, the gateway to a wider world, it is an excellent metaphor for Marlow's trajectory. Marlow says that as a child he had a "passion" for maps, for the "glories of exploration." Although this description seems positive, it also sounds ominous. Marlow's tone is of one who recalls childhood notions with bitterness and regret.
The cause of this regret is evident in the first description of Marlow. His sallow skin and sunken cheeks do not portray him as healthy or happy. He has had the chance to explore, but apparently the experience has ruined him. This is Conrad's way of arranging the overall structure of the novella. The audience understands that this is to be a recollection, a tale that will account for Marlow's presently shaky, impenetrable state. The author is also presupposing knowledge of colonialism. The bitterness of Marlow's recollection suggests Conrad's strong bias against colonialism, which he seems to be imparting to the reader by expressing Marlow’s difficulties.
The imagery of light and dark clearly corresponds to the tension already evident between civilization and savagery. The Thames River is called a "gateway to civilization" because it leads to and from the civilized city of London. It is important to note that the city is always described in stark contrast with its dark surroundings, which are so amorphous as to be either water or land.
The vivid language of maps becomes more interesting when we consider that the word “darkness” retains its traditional meaning of evil and dread. The fact that Marlow applies the concept of darkness to conquered territories may indicate Conrad’s negative view of colonialism. We read clearly that colonists are only exploiting the weakness of others. Their spreading over the world is no nobler than violence and thievery. On the map, places that are blank and devoid of outside interference are apparently the most desirable for certain people.
Darkness has another meaning that retains deep resonance—a color of skin. Much of this chapter describes Marlow's first encounters with and observations of the natives of the African Congo. The darkness of their skin is always mentioned. At first glance, Marlow describes them as "mostly black and naked, moving about like ants." While in the shade, "dark things" seem to stir feebly. There is absolutely no differentiation between dark animals and dark people. Even the rags worn by the native people are described as tails. "Black shapes" crouch on the ground, and "creatures" walk on all fours to get a drink from the river. They are called shadows: reflections of humans, not substantial enough to be real. Marlow observes the piece of white string on a young man, and he is taken aback by how much the whiteness stands out against the darkness, thinking about the string's probable European origin. He cannot seem to conceive of mixing black and white. Conrad portrays Marlow’s experience of otherness to such an extreme, and with such literary care, that it is hard to see Conrad simply expressing his own experience through Marlow, although Conrad likely was well aware of his own and others’ impressions of such places and did have a choice in how to present them. Writing through Marlow’s experience is a choice that leads us to look through Marlow’s eyes at the darkness he sees.
It is not accidental that Marlow is the only person on the Thames boat who is named. He is a complex character while, even in England, the others are presented not so much as individuals as with titles that name their occupations. Marlow is distinct from them as well; he belongs to no category. He is a man "who does not represent his class" because he crosses boundaries. His reaction to the African natives may not be sensitive by modern standards, but he is more engaged than the other officers at the stations. The Chief Accountant dismisses the cries of a dying black man as merely irritating. Marlow's gesture of offering a biscuit to the young boy with the white string appears to be somewhat considerate. But it also seems condescending, which seems to be more of a character trait than a racist tendency. Marlow can think of nothing else to do as he looks into the boy's vacant eyes. Marlow means well, and despite his individual character he is partly a product of his society.
Immediately following the encounter with the young boy, he meets the Chief Accountant, who is perfectly attired with collar, cuffs, jacket, and all the rest. He refers to him as "amazing" and a "miracle." We observe at this moment the distinctions between savagery and civilization as perceived by Marlow. The diction demonstrates a type of hero worship for this man. His starched collars and cuffs are achievements of character, and Marlow respects him on this basis. It is far too early for readers to think we understand what Marlow is all about.
Beyond Marlow’s distinction of savagery and civilization, we have a window into Conrad’s distinction when we consider his presentation of colonialism through Marlow and the colonists. The bitter irony here is that those who look the most civilized are actually the most savage. Indeed, the institution of colonialism is referred to as a "flabby, pretending, weak-eyed devil." Everything it touches turns sour: the station is an administrative nightmare, and decaying machinery lies everywhere. Marlow takes this situation, however, as indicative of a poor work ethic, which he despises. For this reason he is drawn to the blustering accountant, who is a hard worker if nothing else. Marlow, in his own bumbling way, does occasionally try to relate to the natives.
The sense of time throughout the chapter is highly controlled. Conrad purposely glides over certain events while he examines others in minute detail. He does this in order to build suspicion about the place to which Marlow has committed himself. Notice that he painstakingly describes precursor events such as the doctor's visit and all conversations that involve the unseen character Kurtz. Thus begins Marlow's consuming obsession with this man.
So far, Marlow’s interest in Kurtz is more or less inactive and does not inspire fear. Perfectly placed leading questions such as the one about a history of family insanity have the desired effect, however, of alerting readers to a rather fishy situation. That Marlow ignores all of these warnings creates some dramatic irony; it will take him longer to arrive at conclusions that the reader has already reached.
It also is important to recognize that Marlow is telling a story. His recollections have a hazy, dreamy quality. The narrative is thus an examination of human spirit through his perspective, which is quite subjective. Thus, we should question how trustworthy the narrative speakers are. This situation puts even more distance between Conrad’s perspective and the perspective taken by characters in the story. The outside narrator only refers to what Marlow says and does; all others are ignored, and we understand their perspective only through Marlow’s account of what they say and do. Marlow selects the facts (even though Conrad ultimately selects them). Readers interested in this topic should consider in particular Marlow's perception of the African environment, which develops into the novella’s larger themes.
So far as Kurtz is concerned, there has been incomplete communication. Marlow and the reader know him, but not much, yet. He seems sinister; people discuss him in a hushed manner, making sure to praise him. The fact that nobody has anything negative to say about him is suspicious, suggesting that they are all terribly anxious to stay on his good side. The portrait of the blind woman holding a torch, in the first agent's room, suggests the failing of Kurtz: perhaps he has blindly traveled into a situation and has become absorbed in it, much as the woman is absorbed into the darkness of the painting (despite the torch, she is painted in insufficient light). This preemptive warning is useful to keep in mind as we consider subsequent chapters.
A ship called the Nellie is cruising down the Thames--it will rest there as it awaits a change in tide. The narrator is an unidentified guest aboard the ship. He describes at length the appearance of the Thames as an interminable waterway, and then he describes the inhabitants of the ship. The Director of Companies doubles as Captain and host. They all regard him with affection, trust, and respect. The Lawyer is advanced in years and possesses many virtues. The Accountant is toying with dominoes, trying to begin a game. They already share the "bond of the sea." They are tolerant of one another.
Then there is Marlow. He has an emaciated appearance--sunken cheeks and a yellow complexion. The ship drops anchor, but nobody wants to begin the dominoes game. They sit meditatively at the sun, and the narrator takes great notice of how the water changes as the sun sets. Marlow suddenly speaks, noting that "this also has been one of the dark places of the earth." He is a man who does not represent his class: he is a seaman but also a wanderer, which is disdainful and odd, since most seamen live sedentary lives aboard the ship that is their home. No one responds to the remark, and Marlow continues to talk of olden times when the Romans arrived and brought light, which even now is constantly flickering. He says those people were not colonists but conquerors, taking everything by brute force. This "taking of the earth is not a pretty thing" when examined too closely; it is the idea behind it which people find redeeming. Then, to the dismay of his bored listeners, he switches into narration of a life experience: how he decided to be a fresh water sailor after coming into contact with colonization.
As a child, Marlow had a passion for maps, and he would lose himself in the blank spaces, which gradually turned into dark ones as they became peopled. He was especially taken with the picture of a long, coiling river. In his tale, after a number of voyages in the Orient and India, Marlow hopes to get charge of the steamboats that must go up and down that river for trade. Marlow looks for a ship, but he has hard luck finding a position. His aunt has connections in the Administration and writes to have him appointed a steamboat skipper. The appointment comes through very quickly, and Marlow is to take the place of Fresleven, a captain who was killed in a scuffle with the natives. He crosses the Channel to sign the contract with his employers.
Their office appears to him like a white sepulcher; the reception area is dimly lit. Two women sullenly man the area. Marlow notes an unfinished map, and he sees that he is going into the yellow section, the central area that holds the river. He signs but feels very uneasy as the women look at him meaningfully. Then there is a visit to the doctor. Marlow questions why he is not with the Company on its business. The doctor becomes cool and says he is no fool. Changes take place out there. He asks his patient whether there is madness in the family. With a clean bill of health and a long goodbye chat with his aunt, Marlow sets out on a French steamer, feeling like an "impostor."
Watching the coast as it slips by, the new skipper marvels at its enigmatic quality--it tempts and invites the seer to come ashore, but in a grim way. The weather is fierce, for the sun beats down strongly. The ship picks up others along the way, mainly soldiers and clerks. The trade names they pass on ships and on land seem almost farcical. There is a uniformly somber atmosphere. After a month, Marlow arrives at the mouth of the big river and takes his passage on a little steamer. Once aboard he learns that a man picked up the other day hanged himself recently.
He is taken to his Company's station. He walks through pieces of "decaying machinery" and observes a stream of black people walking slowly, very thin and indifferent. One of the "reclaimed" carries a rifle at "its middle." Marlow walks around to avoid this chain gang and finds a shade to rest. He sees more black people working, some who look like they are dying. One young man looks particularly hungry, and Marlow offers him the ship biscuit in his pocket. He notices that the boy is wearing white worsted around his neck, and he wonders what this is for. Marlow hastily makes his way towards the station. He meets a white man dressed elegantly and in perfect fashion. He is "amazing" and a "miracle." After learning that he is the Chief Accountant of the Company, Marlow respects him. The station is a muddle of activity.
The new skipper waits there for ten days, living in a hut. Frequently he visits the accountant, who tells him that he will meet Mr. Kurtz, a remarkable man in charge of the trading post in the ivory country. The Accountant is irritated that a bed station for a dying man has been set up in his office. He remarks that he begins to "hate the savages to death." He asks Marlow to tell Kurtz that everything is satisfactory.
The next day Marlow begins a 200 mile tramp into the interior. He crosses many paths, many deserted dwellings, and mysterious black men. His white companion becomes ill on the journey, which makes Marlow impatient but attentive. Finally they arrive at the Central Station, and Marlow must see the General Manager. The meeting is strange. The Manager has a stealthy smile. He is obeyed, but he does not inspire love or fear. He only inspires uneasiness. The trading had begun without Marlow, who was late. There were rumors that an important station was in jeopardy and that its chief, Kurtz, was ill. A shipwreck on Marlow's boat has set them back.
The manager is anxious and says it will be three months before they can make a full start in the trading. Marlow begins work in the station. Whispers of "ivory" punctuate the air throughout the days. One evening a shed almost burns down. A black man is beaten for this, and Marlow overhears: "Kurtz take advantage of this incident." The manager's main spy, a first-class agent, befriends the new skipper and begins to question him extensively about Europe and the people he knows there. Marlow is confused about what this man hopes to learn. The agent becomes "furiously annoyed."
There is a dark sketch on his wall of a woman blindfolded and carrying a lighted torch. The agent says that Kurtz painted it. Upon Marlow's inquiry about who this man is, he says that he is a prodigy, an "emissary of pity and science." They want Europe to entrust the guidance of the cause to them. The agent talks precipitately, wanting Marlow to give Kurtz a favorable report about his disposition because he believes Marlow has more influence in Europe than he actually does.
The narrator breaks off for an instant and returns to his listeners on the ship, saying that they should be able to see more in retrospect than he could in the moment. Back in the story, he is bored by the droning of the agent. Marlow wants rivets to stop the hole and get on with the work on his ship. He clambers aboard. The ship is the one thing that truly excites him. He notes the foreman of the mechanics sitting onboard. They cavort and talk happily of rivets that should arrive in three weeks. Instead of rivets, however, they receive an "invasion" of "sulky" black men with their white expedition leader, who is the Manager's uncle. Marlow meditates for a bit on Kurtz, wondering if he will be promoted to General Manger and how he will set about his work when there.
Analysis
A logical way to begin analyzing the tale is by applying the title to the novel. "Darkness" is a problematic word with several meanings. It is initially mentioned in the context of maps, where places of darkness have been colored in once they have been explored and settled by colonists. The map is an important symbol. It is a guide, a record of exploration. The incomplete map has a dual purpose in that maps unlock mysteries, on the one hand, by laying out the geography of unknown lands for new visitors, and on the other hand, by creating new mystery and inspiring new curiosity about the lands listed as unknown, in addition to new questions about what is only partly known. The river is another important symbol, perhaps our first symbol of the “heart,” which is itself a symbol of the human spirit. Always moving, not very predictable, the gateway to a wider world, it is an excellent metaphor for Marlow's trajectory. Marlow says that as a child he had a "passion" for maps, for the "glories of exploration." Although this description seems positive, it also sounds ominous. Marlow's tone is of one who recalls childhood notions with bitterness and regret.
The cause of this regret is evident in the first description of Marlow. His sallow skin and sunken cheeks do not portray him as healthy or happy. He has had the chance to explore, but apparently the experience has ruined him. This is Conrad's way of arranging the overall structure of the novella. The audience understands that this is to be a recollection, a tale that will account for Marlow's presently shaky, impenetrable state. The author is also presupposing knowledge of colonialism. The bitterness of Marlow's recollection suggests Conrad's strong bias against colonialism, which he seems to be imparting to the reader by expressing Marlow’s difficulties.
The imagery of light and dark clearly corresponds to the tension already evident between civilization and savagery. The Thames River is called a "gateway to civilization" because it leads to and from the civilized city of London. It is important to note that the city is always described in stark contrast with its dark surroundings, which are so amorphous as to be either water or land.
The vivid language of maps becomes more interesting when we consider that the word “darkness” retains its traditional meaning of evil and dread. The fact that Marlow applies the concept of darkness to conquered territories may indicate Conrad’s negative view of colonialism. We read clearly that colonists are only exploiting the weakness of others. Their spreading over the world is no nobler than violence and thievery. On the map, places that are blank and devoid of outside interference are apparently the most desirable for certain people.
Darkness has another meaning that retains deep resonance—a color of skin. Much of this chapter describes Marlow's first encounters with and observations of the natives of the African Congo. The darkness of their skin is always mentioned. At first glance, Marlow describes them as "mostly black and naked, moving about like ants." While in the shade, "dark things" seem to stir feebly. There is absolutely no differentiation between dark animals and dark people. Even the rags worn by the native people are described as tails. "Black shapes" crouch on the ground, and "creatures" walk on all fours to get a drink from the river. They are called shadows: reflections of humans, not substantial enough to be real. Marlow observes the piece of white string on a young man, and he is taken aback by how much the whiteness stands out against the darkness, thinking about the string's probable European origin. He cannot seem to conceive of mixing black and white. Conrad portrays Marlow’s experience of otherness to such an extreme, and with such literary care, that it is hard to see Conrad simply expressing his own experience through Marlow, although Conrad likely was well aware of his own and others’ impressions of such places and did have a choice in how to present them. Writing through Marlow’s experience is a choice that leads us to look through Marlow’s eyes at the darkness he sees.
It is not accidental that Marlow is the only person on the Thames boat who is named. He is a complex character while, even in England, the others are presented not so much as individuals as with titles that name their occupations. Marlow is distinct from them as well; he belongs to no category. He is a man "who does not represent his class" because he crosses boundaries. His reaction to the African natives may not be sensitive by modern standards, but he is more engaged than the other officers at the stations. The Chief Accountant dismisses the cries of a dying black man as merely irritating. Marlow's gesture of offering a biscuit to the young boy with the white string appears to be somewhat considerate. But it also seems condescending, which seems to be more of a character trait than a racist tendency. Marlow can think of nothing else to do as he looks into the boy's vacant eyes. Marlow means well, and despite his individual character he is partly a product of his society.
Immediately following the encounter with the young boy, he meets the Chief Accountant, who is perfectly attired with collar, cuffs, jacket, and all the rest. He refers to him as "amazing" and a "miracle." We observe at this moment the distinctions between savagery and civilization as perceived by Marlow. The diction demonstrates a type of hero worship for this man. His starched collars and cuffs are achievements of character, and Marlow respects him on this basis. It is far too early for readers to think we understand what Marlow is all about.
Beyond Marlow’s distinction of savagery and civilization, we have a window into Conrad’s distinction when we consider his presentation of colonialism through Marlow and the colonists. The bitter irony here is that those who look the most civilized are actually the most savage. Indeed, the institution of colonialism is referred to as a "flabby, pretending, weak-eyed devil." Everything it touches turns sour: the station is an administrative nightmare, and decaying machinery lies everywhere. Marlow takes this situation, however, as indicative of a poor work ethic, which he despises. For this reason he is drawn to the blustering accountant, who is a hard worker if nothing else. Marlow, in his own bumbling way, does occasionally try to relate to the natives.
The sense of time throughout the chapter is highly controlled. Conrad purposely glides over certain events while he examines others in minute detail. He does this in order to build suspicion about the place to which Marlow has committed himself. Notice that he painstakingly describes precursor events such as the doctor's visit and all conversations that involve the unseen character Kurtz. Thus begins Marlow's consuming obsession with this man.
So far, Marlow’s interest in Kurtz is more or less inactive and does not inspire fear. Perfectly placed leading questions such as the one about a history of family insanity have the desired effect, however, of alerting readers to a rather fishy situation. That Marlow ignores all of these warnings creates some dramatic irony; it will take him longer to arrive at conclusions that the reader has already reached.
It also is important to recognize that Marlow is telling a story. His recollections have a hazy, dreamy quality. The narrative is thus an examination of human spirit through his perspective, which is quite subjective. Thus, we should question how trustworthy the narrative speakers are. This situation puts even more distance between Conrad’s perspective and the perspective taken by characters in the story. The outside narrator only refers to what Marlow says and does; all others are ignored, and we understand their perspective only through Marlow’s account of what they say and do. Marlow selects the facts (even though Conrad ultimately selects them). Readers interested in this topic should consider in particular Marlow's perception of the African environment, which develops into the novella’s larger themes.
So far as Kurtz is concerned, there has been incomplete communication. Marlow and the reader know him, but not much, yet. He seems sinister; people discuss him in a hushed manner, making sure to praise him. The fact that nobody has anything negative to say about him is suspicious, suggesting that they are all terribly anxious to stay on his good side. The portrait of the blind woman holding a torch, in the first agent's room, suggests the failing of Kurtz: perhaps he has blindly traveled into a situation and has become absorbed in it, much as the woman is absorbed into the darkness of the painting (despite the torch, she is painted in insufficient light). This preemptive warning is useful to keep in mind as we consider subsequent chapters.
Summary and Analysis of Part Two
While lying on the deck of his steamboat one evening, Marlow overhears a conversation between the Manager and his uncle, leader of the Expedition group that has arrived. Snatches of talk indicate that the two are conferring about Kurtz. The Manager says he was "forced to send him there." They say his influence is frightful, and they add that he is alone, having sent away all his assistants. The word "ivory" is also overheard. The two men are wondering how all this ivory has arrived and why Kurtz did not return to the main station as he should have. Marlow believes that this circumstance allows him to see Kurtz for the first time. The Manager and his uncle say that either Kurtz or his assistant must be hanged as an example, so that they can get rid of unfair competition. Realizing that Marlow is nearby, they stop talking.
Over the next few days, the Expedition goes into the wilderness and loses all of their donkeys. As they arrive at the bank below Kurtz's station, Marlow is excited at the prospect of meeting him soon. To Marlow, traveling up the river is like going to the beginning of the world. He sees no joy in the sunshine, however. The past comes back to haunt him on this river.
There is a stillness that does not resemble peace. It is alive and watching Marlow. He is concerned about scraping the bottom of his steamship on the river floor, which is disgraceful for seamen. Twenty "cannibals" are his crew. The Manager and some pilgrims are also on board. Sailing by stations, they hear the word "ivory" resonating everywhere. The massive trees make Marlow feel very small. The earth appears "unearthly." The men are monstrous and not inhuman. This scares Marlow greatly. He believes the mind of man is capable of anything.
They creep on towards Kurtz. The ship comes across a deserted dwelling. Marlow finds a well-kept book about seamanship. It has notes in a language he cannot understand. Back on the boat, he pushes ahead.
Eight miles from Kurtz's station, the Manager decides they will stay put for the evening. No sounds are heard. As the sun rises, "complaining clamor" with "savage discord" fills the air. Everyone fears an attack. One of the black crew members says that the attackers should be handed over to them and eaten. Marlow wonders why he and the other white crew members have not been eaten, for the cannibals could easily overpower them. The Manager insincerely worries that something might have happened to Kurtz. Marlow does not believe there will be an attack because the jungle and fog seem impenetrable. No one believes him. Some men go to investigate the shore. A pattering sound is audible: flying arrows! The helmsman on the ship panics and does not steer properly. The crew fires rifles into the bushes.
A black man is shot and lies at Marlow's feet. He tries to talk but dies before he can get any words out. Marlow supposes that Kurtz has perished in this attack. He is exceedingly upset, for talking to the mythical man has become his major point of interest. In a fit of distress, Marlow throws his shoes overboard. He tells the listeners on the Thames ship that the privilege of talking to Kurtz was waiting for him. Marlow relates that Kurtz mentioned a girl and noted that his shanty was busting with ivory. Kurtz now has taken the position of "devil of the land." Originally he was well-educated, but he has become entirely native to Africa, participating in rituals and rites. Kurtz is anything but common.
Back in the battle, the helmsman is killed. Marlow throws the body overboard. After a simple funeral, the steamer continues moving. Miraculously they see Kurtz's station, which they had assumed to be lost. They see the figure of a man whom Marlow identifies as a harlequin type. This man says that Kurtz is present, and he assures them that they need not fear the natives, who are simple people. He speaks with Marlow, introducing himself as a Russian. The book Marlow holds is actually his, and he is grateful to have it returned. The Russian says the ship was attacked because the natives do not want Kurtz to leave with the crew, for he has broadened everyone's mind there.
Analysis
Even in this chaotic jungle, there exists a twisted sense of morality. As the Manager and his uncle discuss Kurtz, they are willing to do anything that will get him or his assistant the Russian hanged, so that the trading field might be leveled to their advantage. They can consider this plan because "anything can be done in this country." They both still retain a sense of law, but the most base components of their personalities control their intentions. For them, the civilized law of the European continent has been discarded in favor of vigilante justice.
The revealing of these men’s predatory nature points to the theme of inchoate savagery. Conrad suggests that there are integral connections among mind, body, and nature, which underlies the issue here: the lines between the civilized and the savage are blurred. The two men propose a very savage solution to a seemingly civilized problem of economic competition.
The Congo has a metamorphic effect on the Europeans, at least in mind and perhaps also in body. Marlow sees the evil uncle "extend his short flipper of an arm for a gesture ... that seemed to beckon with a dishonouring flourish before the sunlit face of the land a treacherous appeal to the lurking death, to the hidden evil, to the profound darkness of its heart." This is one of the few instances in which a white man is animalized in this novella. The land is a living entity, one which has the potential to create evil, or to merge man back into nature.
The proprieties observed by the Manager are all completely fake. Marlows takes this as an illustration of his hollowness. One of Marlow's more personally distressing thoughts is his realization that the "monstrous" tendencies of the black "cannibals" are not inhuman tendencies, after all; the white men possess them in a different form. The African land serves to equalize persons in that what often matters most are wit and determination (although firearms and safety in numbers are important, too).
While traveling, Marlow becomes somewhat delusional. River travel brings back the past—enlarging and distorting it until it becomes an uncontrollable paranoia that he is being watched. The telling of the tale takes on the tone of an epic quest that is larger than life. There is pregnant silence and a failing of the senses. Marlow appears to be traveling deeply into his own mind. His fanatic interest in the proper working of things is evident when he states that scraping a ship on the river bottom is "sinful." The religious language, which in another context might be humorous, demonstrates Marlow’s mounting panic. This paranoia in turn diminishes his sense of reality, leaving him searching for a sense of truth and stability—making him even less reliable and even more distinct from Conrad’s own perspective. Marlow’s transformation in part helps to explain his obsession with Kurtz. Behind the myth of this mysterious figure there is a real, substantial person. Kurtz is the bogeyman of the area and, most logically, the one on whom it is easy for Marlow to fixate.
The inferiority of the natives is a constant theme. About the fireman on his ship, Marlow remarks "he was there below me ... to look at him was as edifying as seeing a dog in a parody of breeches." The lower physical position of the body corresponds to a mental and social state. The narrator participates in believing what he describes is the inherent inferiority of the blacks. In all possible aspects they appear subservient to the white men, and even seeing them wear pants amounts to no more than a warped joke. The one time that a native actually speaks is when the ship approaches the brush, right before the attack, and all he has to say is that any prisoners should be given to the crew as a meal. The narrator cannot understand why the white men were not eaten. He cannot credit the blacks with intelligence beyond instinct. During the battle, one native is shot, with Marlow and the Manager watching: "I declare it looked as though he would presently put to us some question in an understandable language, but he died without uttering a sound." For him there is no comprehension of the blacks he encounters. They are always evaluated and silenced, it seems, before they can speak. Nevertheless, Marlow does feel a real kinship to his "savage" crew, which places him above other whites in the narrative. Even here, though, he has shortcomings—his appreciation of the helmsman after he has died, for instance, seems more machine-like than humane.
The figure of Kurtz grows more enigmatic in this chapter, and we return to the theme of voices and communication. Communication fails when Marlow cannot decipher the book and when the note has an incomplete warning. Marlow's obsession with Kurtz has reached its height. Talking to him has become the entire reason for Marlow's passage through this jungle. The fact that authoritative, unpleasant figures, such as the Manager, dislike Kurtz makes the reader more receptive to him. Notice that Marlow and Kurtz are the only two characters in the entire story who are named. Everyone else is titled, detached, and therefore dehumanized. This is an effective means of drawing a relationship or some kind of comparison between the two characters before they even meet. As soon as Marlow believes that Kurtz is dead, his presence begins to dominate him more vividly—Marlow hears his voice, sees him in action. Kurtz is even stronger than death. The reason Kurtz affects Marlow so deeply is that he has turned his back on his roots and essentially become native. This demonstrates that there is much more to Marlow's personality than what appears. He is not the average European. The reader understands that we will a more accurate portrait of Marlow by examining his interactions with Kurtz.
While lying on the deck of his steamboat one evening, Marlow overhears a conversation between the Manager and his uncle, leader of the Expedition group that has arrived. Snatches of talk indicate that the two are conferring about Kurtz. The Manager says he was "forced to send him there." They say his influence is frightful, and they add that he is alone, having sent away all his assistants. The word "ivory" is also overheard. The two men are wondering how all this ivory has arrived and why Kurtz did not return to the main station as he should have. Marlow believes that this circumstance allows him to see Kurtz for the first time. The Manager and his uncle say that either Kurtz or his assistant must be hanged as an example, so that they can get rid of unfair competition. Realizing that Marlow is nearby, they stop talking.
Over the next few days, the Expedition goes into the wilderness and loses all of their donkeys. As they arrive at the bank below Kurtz's station, Marlow is excited at the prospect of meeting him soon. To Marlow, traveling up the river is like going to the beginning of the world. He sees no joy in the sunshine, however. The past comes back to haunt him on this river.
There is a stillness that does not resemble peace. It is alive and watching Marlow. He is concerned about scraping the bottom of his steamship on the river floor, which is disgraceful for seamen. Twenty "cannibals" are his crew. The Manager and some pilgrims are also on board. Sailing by stations, they hear the word "ivory" resonating everywhere. The massive trees make Marlow feel very small. The earth appears "unearthly." The men are monstrous and not inhuman. This scares Marlow greatly. He believes the mind of man is capable of anything.
They creep on towards Kurtz. The ship comes across a deserted dwelling. Marlow finds a well-kept book about seamanship. It has notes in a language he cannot understand. Back on the boat, he pushes ahead.
Eight miles from Kurtz's station, the Manager decides they will stay put for the evening. No sounds are heard. As the sun rises, "complaining clamor" with "savage discord" fills the air. Everyone fears an attack. One of the black crew members says that the attackers should be handed over to them and eaten. Marlow wonders why he and the other white crew members have not been eaten, for the cannibals could easily overpower them. The Manager insincerely worries that something might have happened to Kurtz. Marlow does not believe there will be an attack because the jungle and fog seem impenetrable. No one believes him. Some men go to investigate the shore. A pattering sound is audible: flying arrows! The helmsman on the ship panics and does not steer properly. The crew fires rifles into the bushes.
A black man is shot and lies at Marlow's feet. He tries to talk but dies before he can get any words out. Marlow supposes that Kurtz has perished in this attack. He is exceedingly upset, for talking to the mythical man has become his major point of interest. In a fit of distress, Marlow throws his shoes overboard. He tells the listeners on the Thames ship that the privilege of talking to Kurtz was waiting for him. Marlow relates that Kurtz mentioned a girl and noted that his shanty was busting with ivory. Kurtz now has taken the position of "devil of the land." Originally he was well-educated, but he has become entirely native to Africa, participating in rituals and rites. Kurtz is anything but common.
Back in the battle, the helmsman is killed. Marlow throws the body overboard. After a simple funeral, the steamer continues moving. Miraculously they see Kurtz's station, which they had assumed to be lost. They see the figure of a man whom Marlow identifies as a harlequin type. This man says that Kurtz is present, and he assures them that they need not fear the natives, who are simple people. He speaks with Marlow, introducing himself as a Russian. The book Marlow holds is actually his, and he is grateful to have it returned. The Russian says the ship was attacked because the natives do not want Kurtz to leave with the crew, for he has broadened everyone's mind there.
Analysis
Even in this chaotic jungle, there exists a twisted sense of morality. As the Manager and his uncle discuss Kurtz, they are willing to do anything that will get him or his assistant the Russian hanged, so that the trading field might be leveled to their advantage. They can consider this plan because "anything can be done in this country." They both still retain a sense of law, but the most base components of their personalities control their intentions. For them, the civilized law of the European continent has been discarded in favor of vigilante justice.
The revealing of these men’s predatory nature points to the theme of inchoate savagery. Conrad suggests that there are integral connections among mind, body, and nature, which underlies the issue here: the lines between the civilized and the savage are blurred. The two men propose a very savage solution to a seemingly civilized problem of economic competition.
The Congo has a metamorphic effect on the Europeans, at least in mind and perhaps also in body. Marlow sees the evil uncle "extend his short flipper of an arm for a gesture ... that seemed to beckon with a dishonouring flourish before the sunlit face of the land a treacherous appeal to the lurking death, to the hidden evil, to the profound darkness of its heart." This is one of the few instances in which a white man is animalized in this novella. The land is a living entity, one which has the potential to create evil, or to merge man back into nature.
The proprieties observed by the Manager are all completely fake. Marlows takes this as an illustration of his hollowness. One of Marlow's more personally distressing thoughts is his realization that the "monstrous" tendencies of the black "cannibals" are not inhuman tendencies, after all; the white men possess them in a different form. The African land serves to equalize persons in that what often matters most are wit and determination (although firearms and safety in numbers are important, too).
While traveling, Marlow becomes somewhat delusional. River travel brings back the past—enlarging and distorting it until it becomes an uncontrollable paranoia that he is being watched. The telling of the tale takes on the tone of an epic quest that is larger than life. There is pregnant silence and a failing of the senses. Marlow appears to be traveling deeply into his own mind. His fanatic interest in the proper working of things is evident when he states that scraping a ship on the river bottom is "sinful." The religious language, which in another context might be humorous, demonstrates Marlow’s mounting panic. This paranoia in turn diminishes his sense of reality, leaving him searching for a sense of truth and stability—making him even less reliable and even more distinct from Conrad’s own perspective. Marlow’s transformation in part helps to explain his obsession with Kurtz. Behind the myth of this mysterious figure there is a real, substantial person. Kurtz is the bogeyman of the area and, most logically, the one on whom it is easy for Marlow to fixate.
The inferiority of the natives is a constant theme. About the fireman on his ship, Marlow remarks "he was there below me ... to look at him was as edifying as seeing a dog in a parody of breeches." The lower physical position of the body corresponds to a mental and social state. The narrator participates in believing what he describes is the inherent inferiority of the blacks. In all possible aspects they appear subservient to the white men, and even seeing them wear pants amounts to no more than a warped joke. The one time that a native actually speaks is when the ship approaches the brush, right before the attack, and all he has to say is that any prisoners should be given to the crew as a meal. The narrator cannot understand why the white men were not eaten. He cannot credit the blacks with intelligence beyond instinct. During the battle, one native is shot, with Marlow and the Manager watching: "I declare it looked as though he would presently put to us some question in an understandable language, but he died without uttering a sound." For him there is no comprehension of the blacks he encounters. They are always evaluated and silenced, it seems, before they can speak. Nevertheless, Marlow does feel a real kinship to his "savage" crew, which places him above other whites in the narrative. Even here, though, he has shortcomings—his appreciation of the helmsman after he has died, for instance, seems more machine-like than humane.
The figure of Kurtz grows more enigmatic in this chapter, and we return to the theme of voices and communication. Communication fails when Marlow cannot decipher the book and when the note has an incomplete warning. Marlow's obsession with Kurtz has reached its height. Talking to him has become the entire reason for Marlow's passage through this jungle. The fact that authoritative, unpleasant figures, such as the Manager, dislike Kurtz makes the reader more receptive to him. Notice that Marlow and Kurtz are the only two characters in the entire story who are named. Everyone else is titled, detached, and therefore dehumanized. This is an effective means of drawing a relationship or some kind of comparison between the two characters before they even meet. As soon as Marlow believes that Kurtz is dead, his presence begins to dominate him more vividly—Marlow hears his voice, sees him in action. Kurtz is even stronger than death. The reason Kurtz affects Marlow so deeply is that he has turned his back on his roots and essentially become native. This demonstrates that there is much more to Marlow's personality than what appears. He is not the average European. The reader understands that we will a more accurate portrait of Marlow by examining his interactions with Kurtz.
Summary and Analysis of Part Three
Marlow is astonished at the Russian's words. He is gathering a clearer picture of Kurtz. The Russian says that he has gone so far that he does not know if he will ever get back. Apparently he has been alone with Kurtz for many months. His sense of adventure is pure, and glamour urges him onward. The Russian remembers the first night he spoke to Kurtz: he forgot to sleep, he was so captivated. Kurtz made him "see things." He has nursed this great man through illnesses and has accompanied him on explorations to villages. Kurtz has raided the country by securing the cooperation of the nearby tribe, whose members all adore him. He loses himself in ivory hunts for weeks at a time. The Russian disagrees that Kurtz is mad. Even when this bright-eyed adventurer was dismissed by his mentor, he refused to go. Kurtz went down the river alone to make another ivory raid. His illness acted up, so the Russian joined him in order to take care of him.
Presently, Kurtz lies in a hut surrounded by heads on stakes. Marlow is not very shocked at the sight. He takes this as an indication that Kurtz lacks restraint in the gratification of his lusts, a condition for which the wilderness is culpable. Marlow assumes that Kurtz was hollow inside and needed something to fill that lack. The Russian is perturbed by Marlow's attitude of skepticism. He also has heard enough about the ceremonies surrounding this revered man.
Suddenly a group of men appear around the house. They convene around the stretcher that holds the dying Kurtz. He tells the natives to leave. The pilgrims carry him to another cabin and give him his correspondence. In a raspy voice he says he is glad to meet Marlow. The Manager comes in to talk privately with Kurtz. Waiting on the boat with the Russian, Marlow sees the "apparition" of a gorgeous woman. She glitters with gold and paint, and she looks savage. She steps to the edge of the shore and eyes the steamer. She gestures violently toward the sky, turns, and disappears into the thicket. The harlequin man fears her.
The Manager emerges. Taking Marlow aside, he says they have done all they can for Kurtz. He adds that Kurtz did more harm than good for the Company. His actions were too "vigorous" for the moment. Marlow does not agree that Kurtz's method was unsound. To him, Kurtz is a remarkable man—even somehow a friend. Marlow warns the Russian to escape before he can be hanged; he states that he will keep Kurtz's reputation safe. It was Kurtz who ordered the attack on the steamer because he did not want to be taken away—Kurtz thus thought to fake his death.
While Marlow dozes, drumbeats and incantations fill the air. He looks into the cabin that holds Kurtz and discovers that he is missing. Marlow sees his trail and goes after him. The two men face one another. Kurtz pleads that he has plans. Marlow replies that his fame in Europe is assured; he realizes that this man's soul has gone mad. He is able to bring Kurtz back to the cabin. The ship departs the next day amongst a crowd of natives. Kurtz is brought into the pilot-house of the ship. The "tide of brown" runs swiftly out of the "heart of darkness." That is, the life of Kurtz is ebbing. Marlow is in disfavor, lumped into the same category as Kurtz. The Manager is now content. Marlow listens endlessly to Kurtz's bedside talk. He accepts a packet of papers and a photograph that his friend gives him, in order to keep them out of the Manager's hands. A few evenings later, Kurtz dies, with one phrase on his lips: "The horror! The horror!"
Marlow returns to Europe but is plagued by the memory of his friend. He is disrespectful to everyone he encounters. The Manager demands the papers that Kurtz entrusted to Marlow. Marlow relinquishes the technical papers but not the private letters or the photograph. All that remains of Kurtz is his memory and the photo of his "Intended." Kurtz is very much a living figure to Marlow. He visits the woman in the picture, who embraces and welcomes him. She has silently mourned for the past year, and she needs to profess her love and how she knew Kurtz better than anyone. Marlow perceives that the room darkens when she says this. She speaks of Kurtz's amazing ability to draw people in through his incredibly eloquent speech. The woman says she will be unhappy for life. Marlow states that they can always remember him. She expresses a desperate need to keep his memory alive, as well as guilt that she was not with him when he died. When the woman asks Marlow what Kurtz's final words were, he lies and says that Kurtz spoke her name. The woman weeps in triumph.
Marlow states that to tell the truth would have been too dark. Back on the Thames River ship, a tranquil waterway leads into the heart of darkness.
Analysis
The Russian says it best: "I went a little farther ... till I had gone so far that I don't know how I'll ever get back." The Russian and Marlow are similar, both looking for epiphany and enlightenment. Kurtz is a possible source of this enlightenment, and he thus is the most powerful figure in the story, even though he does not appear until the end.
The author is setting forth a challenge: rather than directly describing Kurtz, he provides various clues that we must piece together in order to understand who Kurtz is. The first conversation that the Russian has with his mentor, about "everything" in life including love, points to a man who is sensitive and introspective. Kurtz speaks in civil and savage tongues. His eloquence is his forte because it disguises his darkness from people like the Russian. The woman back in Europe who mourns for him speaks of a generous heart, a noble mind, and greatness. The impressions of these two people, however, strongly contrast with the opinion of people such as the Manager, who says that Kurtz was unethically gathering ivory by inciting locals to violence.
Marlow must stand in for the reader's perspective. From what he sees and reports, the reader can infer that all such accounts are true. Yet Marlow does not see Kurtz as evil for his actions toward the natives because of his intentions. People such as the Manager truly care only about fulfilling an ivory quota and becoming wealthy. While Kurtz is certainly consumed with his search for ivory (his face and body are described in terms of this precious resource), Conrad does not provide any evidence that Kurtz is concerned with the material aspects of ivory: his house and existence are extremely simple, despite all of the ivory he has recovered. If money and fame were the only things important to him, he could have returned to England long ago. The Russian states that Kurtz "would lose himself among the people." The staked heads around his home demonstrate a lack of restraint "in the gratification of various lusts." They are necessary for a man with a great appetite. Apparently, the time in the African Congo has been a time of letting go for Kurtz, a time in which passions and appetites become unbridled, and in which the past no longer matters.
This is a type of traveler’s sickness. The image of Kurtz on his deathbed is of his opening his mouth wide, giving him a "voracious aspect" as if he wants to absorb and swallow everything. His need to plan and consume, however, has consumed his mind and spirit. It is a remarkable case of colonialism gone awry: "the wilderness had found him out early, and had taken on him a terrible vengeance for the fantastic invasion." Curiosity that leads to exploration can also lead, tragically, to a loss of self. Herein lies a sociopolitical message, a caution against trying to control something that is not originally a part of you, lest it control you. Expressing oneself in a new environment can mean the loss of one’s earlier self.
Marlow does not condemn Kurtz because he pities him, sympathizing with his tortured existence. The moment when Marlow stands between Kurtz and the horned, demonic-looking man is critical. This figure symbolizes the death and darkness of Kurtz, and he only turns away from complete desolation because Marlow is there to help him back. Despite the circumstances, however, there is an undercurrent of history that makes Kurtz's death seem karmic. The devotion shown to him by the natives illustrates an almost reciprocal relationship between them. While it is most likely that they help Kurtz without understanding the material benefits behind the ivory, it is clear that Kurtz enjoys being a part of them as much as they enjoy having him there. He is definitely the least biased character in the whole book, which speaks highly for him in the eyes of a modern reader. Unfortunately, he loses himself and detaches from everything earthly. Kurtz's soul has broken forbidden boundaries because it only concentrated on itself.
Kurtz dies painfully both because his obsessive tasks were not complete and because his soul has been sold. The "horror" he pronounces on his deathbed is a judgment on how he has lived his life. We can definitely see Kurtz's demise as a possible end for Marlow if he had not left the Congo. As it was, the wilderness was already creeping and merging into his psyche, and there was a moment when he could not tell the difference between a drum beat and his own heartbeat. He appears to have escaped in time.
Marlow's lie at the end of the story is both cruel and compassionate. While the woman is comforted, she will have to continue believing in an illusion. She will never know what Kurtz became. Marlow states that the truth is "too dark" to tell. But truly, his terrible decline is in vain if no one learns of it. And is the woman so weak that she cannot really hear the truth? Telling Kurtz’s tale is the point of Marlow's telling his story aboard the Thames ship. A river can lead to civilization—but it also leads to darkness.
Marlow is astonished at the Russian's words. He is gathering a clearer picture of Kurtz. The Russian says that he has gone so far that he does not know if he will ever get back. Apparently he has been alone with Kurtz for many months. His sense of adventure is pure, and glamour urges him onward. The Russian remembers the first night he spoke to Kurtz: he forgot to sleep, he was so captivated. Kurtz made him "see things." He has nursed this great man through illnesses and has accompanied him on explorations to villages. Kurtz has raided the country by securing the cooperation of the nearby tribe, whose members all adore him. He loses himself in ivory hunts for weeks at a time. The Russian disagrees that Kurtz is mad. Even when this bright-eyed adventurer was dismissed by his mentor, he refused to go. Kurtz went down the river alone to make another ivory raid. His illness acted up, so the Russian joined him in order to take care of him.
Presently, Kurtz lies in a hut surrounded by heads on stakes. Marlow is not very shocked at the sight. He takes this as an indication that Kurtz lacks restraint in the gratification of his lusts, a condition for which the wilderness is culpable. Marlow assumes that Kurtz was hollow inside and needed something to fill that lack. The Russian is perturbed by Marlow's attitude of skepticism. He also has heard enough about the ceremonies surrounding this revered man.
Suddenly a group of men appear around the house. They convene around the stretcher that holds the dying Kurtz. He tells the natives to leave. The pilgrims carry him to another cabin and give him his correspondence. In a raspy voice he says he is glad to meet Marlow. The Manager comes in to talk privately with Kurtz. Waiting on the boat with the Russian, Marlow sees the "apparition" of a gorgeous woman. She glitters with gold and paint, and she looks savage. She steps to the edge of the shore and eyes the steamer. She gestures violently toward the sky, turns, and disappears into the thicket. The harlequin man fears her.
The Manager emerges. Taking Marlow aside, he says they have done all they can for Kurtz. He adds that Kurtz did more harm than good for the Company. His actions were too "vigorous" for the moment. Marlow does not agree that Kurtz's method was unsound. To him, Kurtz is a remarkable man—even somehow a friend. Marlow warns the Russian to escape before he can be hanged; he states that he will keep Kurtz's reputation safe. It was Kurtz who ordered the attack on the steamer because he did not want to be taken away—Kurtz thus thought to fake his death.
While Marlow dozes, drumbeats and incantations fill the air. He looks into the cabin that holds Kurtz and discovers that he is missing. Marlow sees his trail and goes after him. The two men face one another. Kurtz pleads that he has plans. Marlow replies that his fame in Europe is assured; he realizes that this man's soul has gone mad. He is able to bring Kurtz back to the cabin. The ship departs the next day amongst a crowd of natives. Kurtz is brought into the pilot-house of the ship. The "tide of brown" runs swiftly out of the "heart of darkness." That is, the life of Kurtz is ebbing. Marlow is in disfavor, lumped into the same category as Kurtz. The Manager is now content. Marlow listens endlessly to Kurtz's bedside talk. He accepts a packet of papers and a photograph that his friend gives him, in order to keep them out of the Manager's hands. A few evenings later, Kurtz dies, with one phrase on his lips: "The horror! The horror!"
Marlow returns to Europe but is plagued by the memory of his friend. He is disrespectful to everyone he encounters. The Manager demands the papers that Kurtz entrusted to Marlow. Marlow relinquishes the technical papers but not the private letters or the photograph. All that remains of Kurtz is his memory and the photo of his "Intended." Kurtz is very much a living figure to Marlow. He visits the woman in the picture, who embraces and welcomes him. She has silently mourned for the past year, and she needs to profess her love and how she knew Kurtz better than anyone. Marlow perceives that the room darkens when she says this. She speaks of Kurtz's amazing ability to draw people in through his incredibly eloquent speech. The woman says she will be unhappy for life. Marlow states that they can always remember him. She expresses a desperate need to keep his memory alive, as well as guilt that she was not with him when he died. When the woman asks Marlow what Kurtz's final words were, he lies and says that Kurtz spoke her name. The woman weeps in triumph.
Marlow states that to tell the truth would have been too dark. Back on the Thames River ship, a tranquil waterway leads into the heart of darkness.
Analysis
The Russian says it best: "I went a little farther ... till I had gone so far that I don't know how I'll ever get back." The Russian and Marlow are similar, both looking for epiphany and enlightenment. Kurtz is a possible source of this enlightenment, and he thus is the most powerful figure in the story, even though he does not appear until the end.
The author is setting forth a challenge: rather than directly describing Kurtz, he provides various clues that we must piece together in order to understand who Kurtz is. The first conversation that the Russian has with his mentor, about "everything" in life including love, points to a man who is sensitive and introspective. Kurtz speaks in civil and savage tongues. His eloquence is his forte because it disguises his darkness from people like the Russian. The woman back in Europe who mourns for him speaks of a generous heart, a noble mind, and greatness. The impressions of these two people, however, strongly contrast with the opinion of people such as the Manager, who says that Kurtz was unethically gathering ivory by inciting locals to violence.
Marlow must stand in for the reader's perspective. From what he sees and reports, the reader can infer that all such accounts are true. Yet Marlow does not see Kurtz as evil for his actions toward the natives because of his intentions. People such as the Manager truly care only about fulfilling an ivory quota and becoming wealthy. While Kurtz is certainly consumed with his search for ivory (his face and body are described in terms of this precious resource), Conrad does not provide any evidence that Kurtz is concerned with the material aspects of ivory: his house and existence are extremely simple, despite all of the ivory he has recovered. If money and fame were the only things important to him, he could have returned to England long ago. The Russian states that Kurtz "would lose himself among the people." The staked heads around his home demonstrate a lack of restraint "in the gratification of various lusts." They are necessary for a man with a great appetite. Apparently, the time in the African Congo has been a time of letting go for Kurtz, a time in which passions and appetites become unbridled, and in which the past no longer matters.
This is a type of traveler’s sickness. The image of Kurtz on his deathbed is of his opening his mouth wide, giving him a "voracious aspect" as if he wants to absorb and swallow everything. His need to plan and consume, however, has consumed his mind and spirit. It is a remarkable case of colonialism gone awry: "the wilderness had found him out early, and had taken on him a terrible vengeance for the fantastic invasion." Curiosity that leads to exploration can also lead, tragically, to a loss of self. Herein lies a sociopolitical message, a caution against trying to control something that is not originally a part of you, lest it control you. Expressing oneself in a new environment can mean the loss of one’s earlier self.
Marlow does not condemn Kurtz because he pities him, sympathizing with his tortured existence. The moment when Marlow stands between Kurtz and the horned, demonic-looking man is critical. This figure symbolizes the death and darkness of Kurtz, and he only turns away from complete desolation because Marlow is there to help him back. Despite the circumstances, however, there is an undercurrent of history that makes Kurtz's death seem karmic. The devotion shown to him by the natives illustrates an almost reciprocal relationship between them. While it is most likely that they help Kurtz without understanding the material benefits behind the ivory, it is clear that Kurtz enjoys being a part of them as much as they enjoy having him there. He is definitely the least biased character in the whole book, which speaks highly for him in the eyes of a modern reader. Unfortunately, he loses himself and detaches from everything earthly. Kurtz's soul has broken forbidden boundaries because it only concentrated on itself.
Kurtz dies painfully both because his obsessive tasks were not complete and because his soul has been sold. The "horror" he pronounces on his deathbed is a judgment on how he has lived his life. We can definitely see Kurtz's demise as a possible end for Marlow if he had not left the Congo. As it was, the wilderness was already creeping and merging into his psyche, and there was a moment when he could not tell the difference between a drum beat and his own heartbeat. He appears to have escaped in time.
Marlow's lie at the end of the story is both cruel and compassionate. While the woman is comforted, she will have to continue believing in an illusion. She will never know what Kurtz became. Marlow states that the truth is "too dark" to tell. But truly, his terrible decline is in vain if no one learns of it. And is the woman so weak that she cannot really hear the truth? Telling Kurtz’s tale is the point of Marlow's telling his story aboard the Thames ship. A river can lead to civilization—but it also leads to darkness.
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