Heart of Darkness

Arguably one of the most significant characters in Heart of Darkness, it is through Marlow’s distinctive voice that the majority of the story is told. As the unnamed narrator aboard The Nellie somewhat wryly informs us at the beginning of the novella, Marlow has always been fond of a “yarn” – though his stories tend to lack the simplicity of those favoured by most seamen. Indeed, that Marlow is described resembling a “Buddha” as he begins his tale would identify the character as a figure of enlightenment – though the unnamed narrator pointedly notes that Marlow is “without a lotus flower” (a signifier of spiritual meaning and knowledge), suggesting that the true significance of Marlow’s enigmatic story is not immediately clear.

The Marlow that sits aboard The Nellie, however, is the Marlow that has already undergone the physical and psychological journey to the very centre of the self that he relates in Heart of Darkness. The eager and somewhat guileless Marlow that points excitedly to a map of Africa as a child is by no means the wizened Marlow that tells his story as the sun sets over Gravesend. Indeed, Marlow is one of the characters that changes the most over the course of the novel. Whilst Marlow isn’t exactly a patron of colonialism before he leaves for Africa (he even dismisses his Aunt’s enthusiastic praise of the colonial agenda as misguided “rot”), he appears for the most part accepting of the Eurocentric propaganda disseminated at the time that portrayed colonialism as a necessary, and moral, enterprise. Cynical, sardonic and sensible, with an admiration of ardour and adventure, this early Marlow actually seems to epitomise the idealised 19th century British male. This is very important, as it enables Conrad to use Marlow’s narrative voice to erode any associations between colonialism, morality and rationality. As Marlow – the archetypal colonial man – becomes disillusioned with Western imperialism, so too does Conrad’s readership, Marlow’s listeners.

Marlow and colonialism

The first indication of Marlow’s disillusionment with the colonial cause can be seen during his time at the Outer Station. As mentioned before, Marlow is an ardent proponent of hard-work; he believes that “efficiency” is the supreme justifier for colonial invasion. Thus when Marlow witnesses the utter lack of efficiency at the Company’s Station (he disparagingly labels the Company’s attempts at railway construction “objectless blasting”), his tone – initially fairly mild – becomes sardonic if not derisive. His contempt of the “flabby”, “rapacious” and “pretending” white colonisers is only made more severe after he stumbles upon the Grove of Death – note here that Conrad repeatedly mentions Marlow’s “vision clear[ing]”, indicative of Marlow’s gradual disenchantment. Marlow himself is neither avaricious nor cruel, and the aimless languor of the greedy white pilgrims he meets at the Central Station disgusts him. Confronted with the simultaneous brutality and ineptitude of the colonial cause, Marlow’s previous rational for imperialism is challenged, and tellingly, his prose becomes much less certain.

In order to retain his hold on the “redeeming facts of life” in the face of what he recognises as a sordid and brutal invasion, Marlow again turns obsessively to his work, hoping to mend his broken steamboat and attain a sense of reality. But labour and diligence are no longer sufficient to justify the violence of the Western colonial endeavour for Marlow. Certainly, Marlow begins to make repeated mention of “dreams”, and of a “dream-like sensation”.

Here, impressionism begins to replace a sense of reality; Marlow becomes, like Kurtz, little more than a “voice” to his listeners aboard The Nellie. The pragmatic and level-headed sensibility that distinguished the younger Marlow is gone. Hard-work and practicality, as Marlow himself suggests, represent only “surface-truths” for the character; now, Marlow is interested in a deeper, central and more profound true that he cannot describe in words but only in essence. The death of Marlow’s native helmsman represents a profound moment in the character’s psychological transformation. Following the incident, Marlow flings his blood-covered shoes overboard. Such an impulsive and absurd action is uncharacteristic of Marlow, but affirms his final rejection of the imperial narrative of progress – by ridding himself of the shoes, he has suddenly and violently repudiated the role he originally stepped into after Fresleven’s death.

Marlow and Kurtz

Marlow remains fixated on Mr Kurtz, however. Marlow’s obsession with Kurtz is significant for multiple reasons. For one thing, Kurtz represents that final, ambiguous “idea” that Marlow desperately hopes may justify the callousness, rapacity and repression he has witnessed in the Congo. When Marlow is forced to concede that no hard-work at all is occurring in the Congo Free State, Kurtz’s eloquence becomes his final hope. For another thing, Kurtz can be said to represent Marlow’s doppelganger, or shadow; the dark antithesis to Marlow himself. Kurtz’s psychological deterioration into unmitigated avarice and savagery is the fate foreshadowed for Marlow at the beginning of the novella. This is why Marlow describes the Inner Station, and his meeting with Kurtz, as the “culminating point of [his] experience”. Having travelled into the very centre of the colonial psyche, Marlow is forced to confront this wraith-like shadow of his own self when untethered from the compelling 19th century Western social structures to which he has so far been bound.

Though Marlow does not step “over the edge” as Kurtz did, he still experiences the same “horror” – whether this be the “horror” of a colonial invasion that is cruel rather than edifying, or the “horror” of man’s capacity for evil. The Marlow that returns from the Inner Station is no longer practical and coolly amused, but rather disillusioned, disorientated and dispirited. Significance evidence of Marlow’s moral transformation can be found in his visit to Kurtz’s Intended. Marlow avows that he “detests a lie”; the Marlow that initially embarks on his journey values honesty, righteousness, and sincerity. However, Marlow concludes his tale with his lie to the Intended. Here, Marlow acquiesces to the “great and saving illusion” that the Intended represents – though as the “gloom” that surrounds the Intended indicates, he no longer truly believes in it at all.

Overall, Marlow typifies the moderate, honest, independent and open-minded Victorian man idealised by Conrad’s 19th century audience – though his scepti- cism, weariness and eventual despair equally reveal a man contaminated by his own memories, sensations and experience of a brutal imperial conquest.