With several important exceptions, the tone of Heart of Darkness is generally cynical and mournful. Conrad’s word choice consistently highlights the darkness, both literal and metaphorical, that the seaman Marlow encounters in the Congo. And Marlow tells his story with a kind of morbid fascination: since he is describing a journey he took years before, he knows how the story ends, but his listeners (and readers) do not. He uses a consistently gloomy, cynical tone to foreshadow where his story is headed—toward a close-up encounter with evil—without giving away the plot. Thus, Marlow’s gloom and melancholy create a sense of mystery at first, and then readers gradually unravel this mystery as Marlow describes his increasingly horrific experiences in the Congo. In this sense, while most fiction writers use tone in the service of plot, Conrad uses plot in the service of tone instead.
Yet, even though Marlow’s story consistently returns to a baseline of overarching pessimism, he also occasionally breaks into excitement and optimism. For instance, just like other European colonizers become giddy at the prospect of striking it rich in the ivory trade, Marlow has high hopes for his journey and the opportunity to meet Kurtz, the legendary chief of the Inner Station, who is supposedly propagating the noble values of European empires by “civilizing” the native Congolese. But Marlow’s hopes get thwarted when Marlow realizes that Kurtz is a self-obsessed madman. Of course, Kurtz is frequently enthusiastic about his own work, too—but only because he’s deeply selfish. He isn’t thrilled to talk about “civilizing” native people because he actually thinks he’s improving the world, but rather because he knows that this kind of talk provides a good excuse for conquest (which is very profitable).
Thus, in Heart of Darkness, Conrad depicts hope and enthusiasm only to suggest that hopeful, enthusiastic people are either ignorant, dishonest, or corrupt. Similarly, he shows characters respond to profound suffering not with indignation, but with utter disinterest. For instance, when Marlow visits the “grove of death” at the Outer Station in Part 1, rather than conveying shock or empathy, he merely observes:
This was the place where some of the helpers had withdrawn to die.
They were dying slowly—it was very clear.
Marlow’s dispassionate tone in passages like this one—where refers to enslaved Congolese people as “helpers”—shows that he ultimately discredits African people’s suffering and turns away from their humanity.
Thus, no matter whether Conrad’s characters are excited, shocked, or detached, their tone nearly always provides a key to their motivations—which are nearly always selfish and corrupt. The novella’s conclusion takes this to an extreme: Kurtz’s fiancée fondly remembers him as a brilliant thinker and noble do-gooder, and she is overjoyed when Marlow (falsely) tells her that Kurtz’s last words were her name. Her sense of relief is based on a lie, like all of the other examples of optimism and righteousness in this novella. Conrad offers a glimpse of a morally barren world in which hope and fear, success and failure, and good and evil no longer matter. Ultimately, Marlow shows, the truth about the world is that it’s hollow and humans’ motivations are always corrupt. As he puts it in Part 2:
What was there after all? Joy, fear, sorrow, devotion, valour, rage—who can tell?—but truth—truth stripped of its cloak of time. Let the fool gape and shudder—the man knows, and can look on without a wink.
With several important exceptions, the tone of Heart of Darkness is generally cynical and mournful. Conrad’s word choice consistently highlights the darkness, both literal and metaphorical, that the seaman Marlow encounters in the Congo. And Marlow tells his story with a kind of morbid fascination: since he is describing a journey he took years before, he knows how the story ends, but his listeners (and readers) do not. He uses a consistently gloomy, cynical tone to foreshadow where his story is headed—toward a close-up encounter with evil—without giving away the plot. Thus, Marlow’s gloom and melancholy create a sense of mystery at first, and then readers gradually unravel this mystery as Marlow describes his increasingly horrific experiences in the Congo. In this sense, while most fiction writers use tone in the service of plot, Conrad uses plot in the service of tone instead.
Yet, even though Marlow’s story consistently returns to a baseline of overarching pessimism, he also occasionally breaks into excitement and optimism. For instance, just like other European colonizers become giddy at the prospect of striking it rich in the ivory trade, Marlow has high hopes for his journey and the opportunity to meet Kurtz, the legendary chief of the Inner Station, who is supposedly propagating the noble values of European empires by “civilizing” the native Congolese. But Marlow’s hopes get thwarted when Marlow realizes that Kurtz is a self-obsessed madman. Of course, Kurtz is frequently enthusiastic about his own work, too—but only because he’s deeply selfish. He isn’t thrilled to talk about “civilizing” native people because he actually thinks he’s improving the world, but rather because he knows that this kind of talk provides a good excuse for conquest (which is very profitable).
Thus, in Heart of Darkness, Conrad depicts hope and enthusiasm only to suggest that hopeful, enthusiastic people are either ignorant, dishonest, or corrupt. Similarly, he shows characters respond to profound suffering not with indignation, but with utter disinterest. For instance, when Marlow visits the “grove of death” at the Outer Station in Part 1, rather than conveying shock or empathy, he merely observes:
This was the place where some of the helpers had withdrawn to die.
They were dying slowly—it was very clear.
Marlow’s dispassionate tone in passages like this one—where refers to enslaved Congolese people as “helpers”—shows that he ultimately discredits African people’s suffering and turns away from their humanity.
Thus, no matter whether Conrad’s characters are excited, shocked, or detached, their tone nearly always provides a key to their motivations—which are nearly always selfish and corrupt. The novella’s conclusion takes this to an extreme: Kurtz’s fiancée fondly remembers him as a brilliant thinker and noble do-gooder, and she is overjoyed when Marlow (falsely) tells her that Kurtz’s last words were her name. Her sense of relief is based on a lie, like all of the other examples of optimism and righteousness in this novella. Conrad offers a glimpse of a morally barren world in which hope and fear, success and failure, and good and evil no longer matter. Ultimately, Marlow shows, the truth about the world is that it’s hollow and humans’ motivations are always corrupt. As he puts it in Part 2:
What was there after all? Joy, fear, sorrow, devotion, valour, rage—who can tell?—but truth—truth stripped of its cloak of time. Let the fool gape and shudder—the man knows, and can look on without a wink.
