    (c) 1991 Bureau Development, Inc.

    File: \DP\0035\00350.TXT         Wed Apr 13 15:54:55 1994
Database: Monarch Notes By Author


$Unique_ID{MON00350}
$Pretitle{}
$Title{Works of Joseph Conrad
Heart Of Darkness: Part 3}
$Subtitle{}
$Author{Conrad, Joseph}
$Affiliation{Department Of English Education, New York University}
$Subject{kurtz
marlow
natives
kurtz's
comment
story
jungle
russian
himself
horror}
$Date{}
$Log{}
Title:       Works of Joseph Conrad
Book:        Heart of Darkness
Author:      Conrad, Joseph
Critic:      Weiss, James
Affiliation: Department Of English Education, New York University

Heart Of Darkness: Part 3

The Plot Of Heart Of Darkness Part III: Out Of The Heart Of Darkness.

     This, the last part of the story, begins with the most detailed picture
we have had thus far of Kurtz. The young European, a Russian, has known him on
and off for two years. He tells the story of those years. Kurtz, it seems, is
a very persuasive speaker. He has made a disciple of the young Russian, who
has nursed him back to health on several occasions; and he has made disciples
of the villagers who have accompanied him on raiding parties to the
neighboring villages for more ivory. Now Kurtz is very ill, and the young
Russian advises Marlow to take him away quickly from the village.

Comment:

     What is the nature of Kurtz's influence over the natives? Why does the
Russian say that they love Kurtz? Why had Kurtz been identified earlier in the
story with the new kind of company agent who has a sense of mission? Marlow
never tells us the answer to these questions, but they do lead us to some
speculations about Kurtz's personality. Is he a fanatic?

     At the end of the Russian's narrative Marlow again looks toward the hill
and the house upon it. This time, from a closer vantagepoint, he can more
clearly see the posts around the house. They are not part of a fence as he had
originally supposed; each post is topped by a human head. Marlow speculates
about the reasons for Kurtz's strange lusts, lusts that were aroused when he
came out to the jungle. Marlow's answer to his own questions is, "He was
hollow at the core."

Comment:

     The mystery about Kurtz is at once identified and made less clear. We
realize that Kurtz has indulged in "ceremonies" that would be shocking to a
European. We suspect that there "ceremonies" in part help Kurtz to keep the
admiration of the natives. Conrad was a great admirer of Henry James, and sent
him copies of his books as they were published. Eventually, they became good
friends. Conrad is being clever in the same way Henry James was clever in The
Turn of the Screw. In his tale about the depravation of young children, James
never tells us in what way the young children were depraved. Thus each of us
provides his favorite form of depravity when we read the story. No doubt, that
depravity we supply is in many ways more interesting to us than any James
might have supplied. So Conrad has left undetermined the nature of the
"ceremonies," allowing our own imaginations to do that for him.

     Now the "pilgrims" appear, bearing Kurtz on a stretcher. Marlow looks
through his glasses and describes him. He appears very tall, seven feet, and
has a bald head and piercing eyes. As the "pilgrims" descend the hill there is
a howl from the natives and they pour from the forest until the cleared space
is filled with them. Kurtz raises himself to speak to them, and Marlow sees
that he is nothing but skin and bones. Kurtz speaks to the natives, and they
quietly disappear into the forest again. Kurtz is brought aboard the river -
boat with his papers. Two of the natives stand watch on the shore, and with
them, a beautiful and apparently wealthy native woman. She walks up to the
edge of the river and shakes her arms in the air, as if in anger.

Comment:

     Now we have a sample of Kurtz's influence over the natives: he changes
them from a howling mob into a docile, obedient assembly. That beautiful
native woman apparently loves Kurtz very much. She will appear later when the
river-boat leaves the jungle. Conrad's women are interesting because they
are not very clearly drawn. In Heart of Darkness we have several sets of
women. First there is Marlow's aunt who helps him to get his job. There are
two women sitting in the "sepulchral city" knitting black wool when Marlow
appears for his interview. There is the native woman who loves Kurtz, and
there is Kurtz's "Intended," whom both we and Marlow meet at the end of the
tale. At the beginning of the tale Marlow, speaking of his aunt, has remarked,
"It's queer how out of touch with truth women are." When we consider another
of Marlow's statements, that there is nothing that he hates so much as a lie,
and when we consider his final lie to Kurtz's "Intended," we begin to get an
interesting picture of Marlow's attitude toward women. They are at once to be
protected from the truth and to be denied it.

     The manager and Kurtz have an argument in Kurtz's cabin. Kurtz points out
that it is the ivory, not Kurtz, that the manager is interested in saving. The
manager leaves the cabin and sees that Marlow has overheard the argument. He
claims that Kurtz is sick, by way of excusing the shouted accusations.
Further, the manager complains that Kurtz's method is "unsound." Marlow is
horrified. Marlow tells us that he turns to Kurtz for relief, that the very
air he breathed seemed vile. He says that he has a choice of nightmares.

Comment:

     Marlow, we recall, has been looking forward to meeting Kurtz all
throughout the voyage; his first reaction, however, is one of horror. However,
when he hears the mean excuses that the manager makes, when he realizes that
the only objection the manager has to those "ceremonies" is that they will
temporarily interrupt normal trade relations with the natives, Marlow is
disgusted all over again. If he is faced with depravity on the one hand, and
meanness on the other, he will choose depravity as the more heroic of the two
vices. Of course, Marlow himself does not become depraved. Remember that he is
the normal man who is to act as a basis of comparison for us when we view the
"pilgrims" and Kurtz. Marlow is indeed caught between two kinds of nightmare.

     Now the young Russian enters to continue the information he has been
giving about Kurtz. It seems that it was Kurtz himself who ordered the attack
upon the steamboat. After delivering this additionally shocking information,
the Russian borrows some rifle shells and some tobacco from Marlow and
disappears into the wilderness. The Russian was not at all sure that Kurtz
might not again order such an attack, especially if he were to suffer a
renewed attack of his illness.

Comment:

     What is the function of that mysterious Russian who briefly appears in
the middle of the jungle, only to disappear into the same jungle? Probably, it
is too simple to suggest that he is there to tell us the things about Kurtz
that Kurtz himself could never tell us. Nevertheless, he does get that much
done. Still, on the surface, he might be there to give us a glimpse of a
European who was as influenced by Kurtz as the natives were. Finally, we can't
forget Conrad's nationality, especially because he himself was so aware of it
all his life.

     Marlow awakes at midnight to discover that the Russian's warning has been
all too prophetic. Upon peering into Kurtz's cabin, Marlow discovers that
Kurtz has disappeared. He is deeply shocked. Rather than give the alarm
(Marlow says that he must be true to his choice of nightmare), Marlow
immediately sets out in pursuit. On the bank of the river he finds a broad
trail through the grass: Kurtz, too weak to walk, has crawled toward the
jungle. Marlow takes off after Kurtz; he wants to prevent him from reaching
the natives who are gathered around large fires in the jungle. Marlow has
fantasies of the two knitting women being at the end of the path.

Comment:

     One way of interpreting the action of the story is to see it as a descent
into Hell, an idea used in such classical epics as the Odyssey and the Aeneid.
If we read the story in this way, then those knitting women back in Brussels
can be interpreted as the Fates, who spin, measure off, and cut the thread of
life. Who then would be a more appropriate figure to find at the end of that
jungle trail, practically in the very center of the heart of darkness, than
she who measures off our lives, and ends them?

     Marlow manages to circle around a head of Kurtz, but they are only thirty
feet from the nearest fire when Marlow confronts Kurtz. Kurtz has but to raise
his voice to summon the natives. Marlow tries to reason with Kurtz, telling
him he will be utterly "lost" if he refuses to return to the river-boat.
Kurtz replies that he was on the threshold of "immense plans" which are now
being spoiled. Of the ensuing argument, Marlow says that Kurtz himself was
rational, but it was his soul that was mad. Marlow wins and half carries Kurtz
back to the river-boat. The next day they leave on the trip down the river.

Comment:

     Marlow has but narrowly won the battle with Kurtz. The battle is
spiritual, not physical; it is a test of wills. It would not do to have Kurtz
win; that would be immoral. He does, however, come very close to winning.
Marlow must have respect for Kurtz to be able to battle with him. Kurtz must
be a worthy, if nightmarish, opponent.

     The river-boat leaves amid violence and murder. As it swings around in
the river, the natives gather on the shore. In the front are three medicine
men and the beautiful woman. Marlow sees the "pilgrims" on the deck of the
river-boat preparing to fire upon the unsuspecting natives, so he blows the
steam whistle again and again until the frightened natives run from the
terrifying sound. Only the majestic woman remains unmoved by the screeching
noise of the whistle. At this point the "pilgrims" open fire on the natives.
Kurtz has been moved to the pilot house, so he and Marlow have the opportunity
for long talks as they travel down the river. Kurtz tells Marlow of his hopes
for the future, of his plans, of the girl he wishes to marry, his "Intended."
One evening, Kurtz tells Marlow that he expects he will die. Marlow tries to
comfort him, but suddenly Kurtz changes his expression, as if he had a glimpse
of the life after death. He cries, "The horror! The horror!" Later that
evening one of the servants announces, "Mistah Kurtz-he dead."

Comment:

     These are perhaps the most famous of Conrad's words: "The horror! The
horror!" and "Mistah Kurtz-he dead." T.S. Eliot, in his poem The Hollow Men,
uses the latter as an epigraph. Of course, the arguments of the critics have
been hot and furious over what Kurtz meant. However, isn't it a mark of
Conrad's artistry that he could introduce this ambiguity at so crucial a
moment in the story, and demand of his reader that he supply the "horror" just
as earlier he demanded of the reader that he supply the concrete form for
those "ceremonies"? Whatever the nature of the "horror," it shows us that
Kurtz died in torment, both disappointed in that he failed to accomplish his
goals, and perhaps horrified by the nature of those goals.

     The "pilgrims" bury Kurtz, and Marlow's next words are that they very
nearly buried him. Marlow himself falls deathly ill after Kurtz dies, probably
of some jungle fever, and his next memories are of being back in the
"sepulchral city." Marlow's last act in the story is to visit the woman Kurtz
was to marry. It is now a year after the events on the river. When Marlow
calls on Kurtz's "Intended" he finds her dressed in black, so that her white
face seems to float in air. She questions Marlow about Kurtz's last words.
Marlow lies. He tells her that Kurtz's last words were of her. Again we flash,
for the last time, back to the deck of the Nellie, and the story concludes
with Marlow sitting silently, "In the pose of a meditating Buddha."

Comment:

     So the first narrator has been true to his words: Marlow has told one of
his "inconclusive" tales. We are given, so to speak, the pieces to a vast and
complicated puzzle. What are we to do with them? As with any puzzle, we
examine the pieces to see how they fit together. There are many
correspondences: the Buddha-like posture of Marlow as he sits on the deck of
the Nellie; the constant use of words that remind us of death and Hell; those
classical parallels that make the tale a modern version of the descent into
Hell; the ironic device of calling the Europeans "pilgrims;" all these demand
explanations. In a later section, which describes the views of some of the
more important critics, suggestions at least will be offered for these
puzzles.

