Light and Dark: The Women of Heart of Darkness

Light and Dark: The Women of Heart of Darkness
Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness is an intricate and complex novella that is difficult to interpret. While it functions on a myriad of levels, examining issues such as race, moral ambiguity, and madness, most prevalent is the examination of imperialism. Conrad does not take a clear and firm stand either for or against the rhetoric of imperialism, though the story certainly points out the hypocrisy of the invasion of an untamed and primeval land in the name of social progress, whilst plundering the resources and systematically destroying the native people. The men in the story can all be seen as representative of varying shades of grey on the scale from barbarism to civilization, but the women are presented in stark contrast to one another. This is most apparent in the characters of Kurtz’s betrothed and his African mistress. While these two women play relatively small roles in the actual progression of the story, they are both powerful symbols for their respective societies.
Kurtz’s intended bride is, for the majority of the story, an unseen idea, far removed from the struggles and daily horror of Marlow’s voyage, as well as from Kurtz himself. In much the same way, Europe itself is far removed from the experiences of the characters of the story. While many of the men try to maintain a semblance of civilization while surrounded by wilderness, the reality is that their urbane homeland is far away and the rules and moralities of European culture have far less influence. Kurtz’s Intended is representative of the lofty ideals of imperialism and European culture. When Marlow relates their encounter, after returning to Europe and the events that lead to Kurtz’s demise, he describes her, saying, “This fair hair, this pale visage, this pure brow, seemed surrounded by an ashy halo from which the dark eyes looked out at me. Their glance was guileless, profound, confident, and trustful (74). Her paleness and purity is not necessarily indicative of the purity of imperialism, but rather of her naïveté, and by proxy the naïveté of Europeans in general. Despite her proclamations that she knew Kurtz better than anyone else, she admits that she did not understand all of his motives. “You know what vast plans he had. I knew of them too—I could not perhaps understand—but others knew of them” (76). She is blissfully unaware of the unmitigated cruelty Kurtz was capable of and holds him, and his imperial mission, in the highest, uneducated regard. Her “guileless” and “trustful” eyes tell both Marlow and the reader that she places her faith in men such as Kurtz to do the work of civilizing this barbaric land, in the name of social progress, while never considering the horror involved or the corruptibility of the men who are charged with this endeavor. As she continues to exalt Kurtz, and her own simplistic and idealized concept of the work of being done in Africa, Marlow can only bow his head in response to the “faith that was in her, before the great and saving illusion that shone with an unearthly glow in the darkness” (75). It is exactly this kind of fervor that allows for the atrocities and cruel behavior we see throughout the novella. Kurtz’s Intended is a subtle but powerful caution against blind faith in an ideal. Kurtz, and men like him, when viewed through the eyes of this character are seen as conquering heroes, bringing the light of civilization to the darkest corners of the earth. She knows nothing of the barbarous nature of Kurtz or his colleagues. Her faith is so powerful, Marlow finds himself quite unable to relay Kurtz’s final words “The horror! The Horror!” (69), saying “It would have been too dark—too dark altogether…” (77). Despite all he has experienced, Marlow is unable to speak truth to her unwavering faith in Kurtz and her idealized notion of imperialism.
Kurtz’s African mistress is a striking contrast to his European betrothed, both in bearing and physical attributes. Marlow never actually speaks with this woman, not sharing a common language, but he is immediately struck by this “wild and gorgeous apparition of a woman” (60). Where the reader was introduced to Kurtz’s betrothed in shades of black and pale, his African mistress is presented in a barrage of color, “draped in striped and fringed cloth” and wearing “innumerable necklaces of glass beads on her neck, bizarre things, charms, gifts of witch-men, that hung about her, glittered and trembled at every step” (60). She is immediately seen as a formidable presence, strange and unknown to Marlow but with a unique beauty and bearing. Marlow says, “She was savage and superb, wild-eyed and magnificent” (60). This character is representative of the untamed and fierce beauty of the African jungle, and of the spirit of the culture being broken in the name of European imperialism. This woman is, as far as the narrative is concerned, mere backdrop, but the image of her conjures a strong reaction in the reader. Within only a handful of paragraphs, Conrad manages to capture the essence of Africa in a single personage that leaves a haunting, beautiful and somewhat frightful image. Marlow says that in her presence a “hush…had fallen suddenly upon the whole sorrowful land, the immense wilderness, the colossal body of the fecund and mysterious life seemed to look at her, pensive, as though it had been looking at the image of its own tenebrous and passionate soul” (60). Here we see Conrad directly relate this character to the wilderness itself, as if the jungle looks at her, seeing in her a mirror image. Though she is dark and mysterious and perhaps dangerous, she carries her own nobility and dignity. The men who seek to plunder Africa for its ivory see only potential for profit but the reader can see, through this character, the wild beauty and pride of Africa and its people. Marlow describes her face as having a “tragic and fierce aspect of wild sorrow and of dumb pain mingled with the fear of some struggling, half-shaped resolve” (61). Presumably we see this display of emotion on behalf of Kurtz, who lies dying, but the reader can also see the echo of the pain experienced by Africa as a whole under the encroaching European imperialism. At the departure of Kurtz and the party, as all of the natives flee from the screech of the whistle of the boat, this woman is the only one who remains, unflinching, with arms outstretched, without fear. The reader can see that, though her people are frightened, this woman has been irrevocably changed by the presence of Kurtz and of the Europeans in general. Not only does she represent Africa in that moment, but also an Africa in a state of flux, reaching toward an unknowable future, despite the fear and cruelty.
In the characters of Kurtz’s Intended and his African mistress we see a carefully constructed balance of light and dark. Though the African mistress is presented in phrases that invoke mystery and darkness, she, and therefore Africa as a whole, appears noble and beautiful. Conversely, the character of Kurtz’s betrothed is presented in images of purity and light, but for all of her innocence, she, like the majority of the civilized world, is woefully unaware of the horrors committed in the name of an imperialistic ideal. When Marlow returns to Europe and visits with Kurtz’s betrothed, in a moment of emotionality, she reaches out, as if toward an unseen figure. Marlow, and the reader, are both reminded of the African mistress “resembling in this gesture another one, tragic also and bedecked with powerless charms, stretching bare brown arms over the glitter of the infernal stream, the stream of darkness” (76). In this final comparison, the reader is reminded that though these women represent very different worlds, they are innately human, and at the core, more similar than may be initially perceived.