Joseph Conrad, in his long-short story, “Heart of Darkness,” tells the tale of two mens’ realization of the hidden, dark, evil side of themselves. Marlow, the “second” narrator of the framed narrative, embarked upon a spiritual adventure on which he witnessed firsthand the wicked potential in everyone. On his journey into the dark, forbidden Congo, the “heart of darkness,” so to speak, Marlow encountered Kurtz, a “remarkable man” and “universal genius,” who had made himself a god in the eyes of the natives over whom he had an imperceptible power.
These two men were, in a sense, images of each other: Marlow was what Kurtz may have been, and Kurtz was what Marlow may have become. Like a jewel, “Heart of Darkness” has many facets. From one view it is an exposure of Belgian methods in the Congo, which at least for a good part of the way sticks closely to Conrad’s own experience. Typically, however, the adventure is related to a larger view of human affairs. Marlow told the story one evening on a yacht in the Thames estuary as darkness fell, reminding his audience that exploitation of one group by another was not new in history.
They were anchored in the river, where ships went out to darkest Africa. Yet, as lately as Roman times, London’s own river led, like the Congo, into a barbarous hinterland where the Romans went to make their profits. Soon darkness fell over London, while the ships that bore “civilization” to remote parts appeared out of the dark, carrying darkness with them, different only in kind to the darkness they encounter. These thoughts and feelings were merely part of the tale, for Conrad had a more personal story to tell, about a single man who went so far from ivilization that its restraints no longer mattered to him.
Exposed to the unfamiliar emotional and physical demands of the African wilderness, free to do exactly as he chose, Kurtz plunged into horrible orgies of which human sacrifice and cannibalism seemed to have formed a part. These excesses taught him and Marlow what human nature was actually like: “The horror! ” Kurtz gasped before he died. Marlow’s own journey from Belgium to the Congo and thence up the river then took on the aspect of a man’s journey into his own inner depths.
Marlow as saved from the other man’s fate not by higher principles or a better disposition, but merely because he happened to be very busy, and the demands of work were themselves a discipline. The readers perceive, too, that other white men on the Congo refrained from such excesses, if they did so, only because they had lesser, more timorous natures which did not dare to express themselves completely. Marlow felt that he had taken the lid off something horrible in the very depths of man which he could not explain when he returned to the world where basic instincts had been carefully smoothed over.
Faced by a crisis, he even denied what he had seen to Kurtz’s Intended, though he was appalled by his lie as bringing with it a betrayal of truth which was essentially a kind of death. In “Heart of Darkness” the sense of human waste that pervaded the story was best unfolded in the ivory itself. It was an object for the rich – in decorations, for piano keys and billiard balls – hardly a necessary item for survival, or even for comfortable living.
In a way, it was evil, a social luxury , an appurtenance to which people had become accustomed; and it was for vil, for appurtenances, that the Congo was plundered and untold numbers of natives were beaten and slaughtered brutally or casually. This view of evil was part of Marlow’s conception; a utilitarian object like copper or iron would have had its own reason for being. Kurtz’s evil propensities (he collected natives’ heads, he sought the “evil” ivory) made him so contemptuous of individual lives; for evil and life have traditionally clashed. Beauty for the few was gained with the blood of the many.
Where evil ruled, it was a form of power. The evil took on magical ignificance, becoming a kind of totem and treasure. Perhaps consciously aware of this, like the evil he had become, Kurtz gained his power, indeed his identity and being, from the ivory he coveted. In a world of evil, the most greedy collector was often supreme. Cruelty was indistinguishable from the vision of Kurtz, a vision of power and control which the ivory provided for him. Ivory, and thus evil, was merely a base on which he grew rich and powerful. Kurtz had risen above the masses standing on his pile of ivory.
Kurtz, evil, and ivory were interconnected: he was ivory: He [Kurtz] looked at least seven feet long. His covering had fallen off, and his body emerged from it pitiful and appalling as from a winding-sheet. I could see the cage of his ribs all astir, the bones of his arm waving. It was as though an animated image of death carved out of old ivory had been shaking its hand with with menaces at a motionless crowd of men made of cloth and glittering bronze.
The interconnection of Kurtz, evil, and ivory had far-reaching ramifications in Marlow’s tale. Heart of Darkness,” was ostensibly a journey, Marlow’s, to the source of evil and power up the Congo; and yet the reader ecalls mainly stagnation. Time and space were halted in that jungle outpost, and Kurtz, that demon of energy, was ill, passive, awaiting death even as he made plans. The scenes of his final hours were images of futility and apathy. His evil impotence, the root of both his power and powerlessness, was incorporated into both tone and theme. Marlow’s adventure in the Congo was an experience that led not only to philosophical conclusions but to a physical and nervous collapse. Marlow’s health was ruined.
He was profoundly shocked by the exploitation of the natives, nd the dark, primitive jungle chaos haunted his imagination. Witnessing the evils in the jungle allowed Marlow to do what Kurtz had failed to do: he was able to repress the evil side of his nature and force his mind into safer, moral channels of thought. He kept his sanity by suppressing the sense of horror which had dominated Kurtz and forced him to become evil. Marlow saw the sickness in the whole account of the exploitation of the natives, and the savagery he felt within himself, in the hypocrisy of men who wanted to both improve the brutes and to exterminate them.
Since everything that was necessary o Marlow’s sanity was parallel to Kurtz’s, he could not crawl out of Kurtz’s mind for even a second. Hence the difficulty he had in putting down the heathen in himself intensified. It is evident that Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness” is a story of the recognition of, in Marlow’s case, the potential of evil corruption in himself; in Kurtz’s case, the recognition and acknowledgement of the evil he had become. It is a tale of the acceptance of a hidden evil side in everyone. Marlow and Kurtz were alike in their recognition of this evil, yet they differed in the manner with which they dealt with it.
Marlow peered over the brink of the abyss that Kurtz opened before him. Marlow judged Kurtz a moral hero for his direct stare into the heart of darkness, and for his candid judgment of its horror. As Marlow found himself looking into the abyss, he was able to turn back, and reject his own potential to become what Kurtz had become. As he judge Kurtz’s proclamation of; horror to be a kind of “affirmation,” a “sort of belief” expressed with a terrible candor and “vibrating” with a “note of revolt,” so we might judge Marlow’s expression of his indignation and contempt to be a kind of moral heroism.