How we cite our quotes: Citations follow this format: (Chapter.Paragraph)
Quote #21
"Perhaps I had a little fever, too. One can't live with one's finger everlastingly on one's pulse. I had often 'a little fever,' or a little touch of other things—the playful paw-strokes of the wilderness, the preliminary trifling before the more serious onslaught which came in due course." (2.14)
Aw, look, nature is a little kitty cat! Oh, wait. Not a little kitty cat; more like a hungry cheetah. Nature is depicted as wickedly playing with Marlow's health for its own amusement before hitting him with a real assault.
Quote #22
"We had just floundered and flopped round a bend, when I saw an islet, a mere grassy hummock of bright green, in the middle of the stream. It was the only thing of the kind; but as we opened the reach more, I perceived it was the head of a long sand-bank, or rather of a chain of shallow patches stretching down the middle of the river. They were discoloured, just awash, and the whole lot was seen just under the water, exactly as a man's backbone is seen running down the middle of his back under the skin." (2.18)
The riverbank, a manifestation of nature, is compared to a man's backbone. This is another instance of Marlow considering the wilderness a live thing.
Quote #23
"I had to lean right out to swing the heavy shutter, and I saw a face amongst the leaves on the level with my own, looking at me very fierce and steady; and then suddenly, as though a veil had been removed from my eyes, I made out, deep in the tangled gloom, naked breasts, arms, legs, glaring eyes—the bush was swarming with human limbs in movement, glistening of bronze colour." (2.21)
Here, the forest swarms with human activity—furthering the association of Nature with the living. Nature's ill will towards the pilgrims is now manifested in the native Africans' surprise attack on Marlow's steamboat. The Africans are depicted as an extension of Nature and minions of her will.
Quote #24
"I looked around, and I don't know why, but I assure you that never, never before, did this land, this river, this jungle, the very arch of this blazing sky, appear to me so hopeless and so dark, so impenetrable to human thought, so pitiless to human weakness." (3.3)
Nature seems to Marlow completely "hopeless" and "dark," completely inaccessible to the human mind, incomprehensible and merciless to human weakness.
Quote #25
"The woods were unmoved, like a mask—heavy, like the closed door of a prison - they looked with their air of hidden knowledge, of patient expectation, of unapproachable silence." (3.4)
Look, we get that Marlow is a little freaked about by all this nature, but we're starting to suspect that he's taking it too seriously. They're just trees. Right? Right??
Quote #26
"But the wilderness had found him [Kurtz] out early, and had taken on him a terrible vengeance for the fantastic invasion. I think it had whispered to him things about himself which he did not know, things of which he had no conception till he took counsel with this great solitude - and the whisper had proved irresistibly fascinating." (3.5)
Check out how Marlow describes the wilderness almost like Kurtz's lover—whispering to him, hanging out alone with him, being all sexy and "irresistibly fascinating." How could he pass that up?
Quote #27
"I noticed that the crowd of savages was vanishing without any perceptible movement of retreat, as if the forest that had ejected these beings so suddenly had drawn them in again as the breath is drawn in a long aspiration." (3.9)
The native Africans are merely an extension of the wilderness—a living, breathing wilderness that is drawing its minions back in as it inhales. Yikes.
Quote #28
"She was savage and superb, wild-eyed and magnificent; there was something ominous and stately in her deliberate progress. And in the hush that 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." (3.14)
Like the wilderness, the warrior woman is savage, wild, magnificent, and, oh yeah, ominous, almost as though she's the soul of the wilderness. (And if she is the soul of the wilderness, what does it mean that she's also probably Kurtz's mistress?)
Quote #29
"Her face had a tragic and fierce aspect of wild sorrow and of dumb pain mingled with the fear of some struggling, half-shaped resolve. She stood looking at us without a stir, and like the wilderness itself, with an air of brooding over an inscrutable purpose." (3.15)
Like the wilderness (yep, we're still on this), the warrior woman is "fierce" but also "dumb" or silent. Her purpose is uncertain and only "half-shaped," as if the wilderness has not yet decided what to do about its invaders. (You have to love how Marlow sees women, right? Not.)
Quote #30
"She turned away slowly, walked on, following the bank, and passed into the bushes to the left. Once only her eyes gleamed back at us in the dusk of the thickets before she disappeared." (3.16)
If the warrior woman is supposed to be something like Mother Nature (which we kind of think she is), this is a pretty menacing show of potential power.
Quote #31
"One of the agents with a picket of a few of our blacks, armed for the purpose, was keeping guard over the ivory; but deep within the forest, red gleams that wavered, that seemed to sink and rise from the ground amongst confused columnar shapes of intense blackness, showed the exact position of the camp where Mr. Kurtz's adorers were keeping their uneasy vigil. The monotonous beating of a big drum filled the air with muffled shocks and a lingering vibration. A steady droning sound of many men chanting each to himself some weird incantation came out from the black, flat wall of the woods as the humming of bees comes out of a hive, and had a strange narcotic effect upon my half-awake senses." (3.23)
This kind of sounds like the last night of summer camp, but we're guessing Conrad meant it to be a lot more menacing, what with the hellish, eerie colors of fiery red and "intense blackness." Also, cannibals.
Quote #32
"I tried to break the spell—the heavy, mute spell of the wilderness—that seemed to draw him to its pitiless breast by the awakening of forgotten and brutal instincts, by the memory of gratified and monstrous passions. This alone, I was convinced, had driven him out to the edge of the forest, to the bush, towards the gleam of fires, the throb of drums, the drone of weird incantations; this alone had beguiled his unlawful soul beyond the bounds of permitted aspirations." (3.29)
Marlow totally gets it: he feels the spell of the wilderness, just like Kurtz does, but he's not going to succumb to it. Really. He promises.
Quote #33
"The long reaches that were like one and the same reach, monotonous bends that were exactly alike, slipped past the steamer with their multitude of secular trees looking patiently after this grimy fragment of another world, the forerunner of change, of conquest, of trade, of massacres, of blessings." (3.38)
Marlow seems to see the wilderness as existing in a separate time from civilization, a sort of eternal land of the lost effect that makes civilization equivalent to change. Wow, that's a lot to get out of "monotonous bends."
Quote #34
"We broke down—as I had expected—and had to lie up for repairs at the head of an island. This delay was the first thing that shook Kurtz's confidence." (3.39)
Marlow's steamboat breaks down again. Gee, it's almost like nature doesn't want them to take Kurtz back to civilization.
Quote #35
"It was a moment of triumph for the wilderness, an invading and vengeful rush which, it seemed to me, I would have to keep back alone for the salvation of another soul." (3.51)
The tables turn! Instead of the explorers "invading" the wilderness, the wilderness is invading the explorers. Hm. Doesn't feel so good when someone does it to you, does it, Marlow?
Quote #36
"[…] she [the Intended] went on, and the sound of her low voice seemed to have the accompaniment of all the other sounds, full of mystery, desolation, and sorrow, I had ever heard - the ripple of the river, the sighing of the trees swayed by the wind, the murmurs of the crowds, the faint ring of incomprehensible words cried from afar, the whisper of a voice speaking from beyond the threshold of an eternal darkness." (3.61)
Marlow associates the Intended's low voice with sounds of the wilderness. Sure, these are slightly friendlier sounds than we're used to hearing from the wilderness—trees swaying, rivers rippling—but they still make us wonder if the line between civilization and the natural word is all that firm.