Charlie Marlow, the story's narrator, starts off by merely hearing rumors about Kurtz's greatness. This quickly grows into an obsession to the point where Marlow mourns even the idea of Kurtz dying before he is able to listen to him. Marlow's idealization of Kurtz convinced him that Kurtz was a man worth listening to, as if Kurtz were above Marlow and therefore incapable of interacting with him.
To this point, the reader only knows that Kurtz is some kind of an innate leader who was able to establish a successful ivory business in the middle of a savage milieu. This, to me, did not make Kurtz a god-like man at all.
In Part III of the novel, however, we are able to see Kurtz for the first time. Beyond rumors, Kurtz really is an outspoken man. Although suffering from a lethal disease, Kurtz is still able to impress those around him. He seems like a leader, yet fails to correspond to the God he has been portrayed as by his servants.
Unconvinced by Kurtz's apparently admirable traits, I was reassured by Marlow's similar reaction. Notwithstanding the fact that Marlow is loyal to Kurtz and to his unquestionable reputation, Marlow also ventures to conclude that Kurtz isn't so unbelievably great. When traveling with him back to Europe, and after a series of deep conversations, Marlow conclusively states that Kurtz has a childish side to himself. More specifically, a "contemptibly childish" side to himself. This he noticed after getting to know Kurtz's vista's on a more intimate level and realizing that most of these were remarkably foolish. Nevertheless, this could also be the personification of what the doctor had foreshadowed in Part I of the novel; the changes that occur inside the men's head once they leave off to colonize.
Kurtz died, as does every other memorable hero, and I still failed to recognize him as an overly admirable man. What was it about him that seized the rest of the men? Was it his ability to speak up? Was it his skill of alleging possessions? Was it his perseverance? All these seem like very common human traits to me, but why was he idealized then?
I have come to believe than men at the time were far less innovating and independent than they are now, which would explain Kurtz's reputation to some extent. This is not convincing though. Does it have to do with the wilderness' darkness? Did Kurtz have a darkness of his own that would struck other men as threateningly admirable? I believe the answer to Kurtz's real magnificence cannot be answered until we grasp the underlying meaning of his surroundings. Was his omnipotence the omnipotence of the jungle that enveloped him?
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