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- Джозеф Конрад
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"
Absurd
!
"
he
cried
.
"
This
is
the
worst
of
trying
to
tell
...
Here
you
all
are
,
each
moored
with
two
good
addresses
,
like
a
hulk
with
two
anchors
,
a
butcher
round
one
corner
,
a
policeman
round
another
,
excellent
appetites
,
and
temperature
normal
--
you
hear
--
normal
from
year
's
end
to
year
's
end
.
And
you
say
,
Absurd
!
Absurd
be
--
exploded
!
Absurd
!
My
dear
boys
,
what
can
you
expect
from
a
man
who
out
of
sheer
nervousness
had
just
flung
overboard
a
pair
of
new
shoes
!
Now
I
think
of
it
,
it
is
amazing
I
did
not
shed
tears
.
I
am
,
upon
the
whole
,
proud
of
my
fortitude
.
I
was
cut
to
the
quick
at
the
idea
of
having
lost
the
inestimable
privilege
of
listening
to
the
gifted
Kurtz
.
Of
course
I
was
wrong
.
The
privilege
was
waiting
for
me
.
Oh
,
yes
,
I
heard
more
than
enough
.
And
I
was
right
,
too
.
A
voice
.
He
was
very
little
more
than
a
voice
.
And
I
heard
--
him
--
it
--
this
voice
--
other
voices
--
all
of
them
were
so
little
more
than
voices
--
and
the
memory
of
that
time
itself
lingers
around
me
,
impalpable
,
like
a
dying
vibration
of
one
immense
jabber
,
silly
,
atrocious
,
sordid
,
savage
,
or
simply
mean
,
without
any
kind
of
sense
.
Voices
,
voices
--
even
the
girl
herself
--
now
--
"
He
was
silent
for
a
long
time
.
"
I
laid
the
ghost
of
his
gifts
at
last
with
a
lie
,
"
he
began
,
suddenly
.
"
Girl
!
What
?
Did
I
mention
a
girl
?
Oh
,
she
is
out
of
it
--
completely
.
They
--
the
women
,
I
mean
--
are
out
of
it
--
should
be
out
of
it
.
We
must
help
them
to
stay
in
that
beautiful
world
of
their
own
,
lest
ours
gets
worse
.
Oh
,
she
had
to
be
out
of
it
.
You
should
have
heard
the
disinterred
body
of
Mr.
Kurtz
saying
,
'
My
Intended
.
'
You
would
have
perceived
directly
then
how
completely
she
was
out
of
it
.
And
the
lofty
frontal
bone
of
Mr.
Kurtz
!
They
say
the
hair
goes
on
growing
sometimes
,
but
this
--
ah
--
specimen
,
was
impressively
bald
.
The
wilderness
had
patted
him
on
the
head
,
and
,
behold
,
it
was
like
a
ball
--
an
ivory
ball
;
it
had
caressed
him
,
and
--
lo
!
--
he
had
withered
;
it
had
taken
him
,
loved
him
,
embraced
him
,
got
into
his
veins
,
consumed
his
flesh
,
and
sealed
his
soul
to
its
own
by
the
inconceivable
ceremonies
of
some
devilish
initiation
.
He
was
its
spoiled
and
pampered
favourite
.
Ivory
?
I
should
think
so
.
Heaps
of
it
,
stacks
of
it
.
The
old
mud
shanty
was
bursting
with
it
.
You
would
think
there
was
not
a
single
tusk
left
either
above
or
below
the
ground
in
the
whole
country
.
'
Mostly
fossil
,
'
the
manager
had
remarked
,
disparagingly
.
It
was
no
more
fossil
than
I
am
;
but
they
call
it
fossil
when
it
is
dug
up
.
It
appears
these
niggers
do
bury
the
tusks
sometimes
--
but
evidently
they
could
n't
bury
this
parcel
deep
enough
to
save
the
gifted
Mr.
Kurtz
from
his
fate
.
We
filled
the
steamboat
with
it
,
and
had
to
pile
a
lot
on
the
deck
.
Thus
he
could
see
and
enjoy
as
long
as
he
could
see
,
because
the
appreciation
of
this
favour
had
remained
with
him
to
the
last
.
You
should
have
heard
him
say
,
'
My
ivory
.
'
Oh
,
yes
,
I
heard
him
.
'
My
Intended
,
my
ivory
,
my
station
,
my
river
,
my
--
'
everything
belonged
to
him
.
It
made
me
hold
my
breath
in
expectation
of
hearing
the
wilderness
burst
into
a
prodigious
peal
of
laughter
that
would
shake
the
fixed
stars
in
their
places
.
Everything
belonged
to
him
--
but
that
was
a
trifle
.
The
thing
was
to
know
what
he
belonged
to
,
how
many
powers
of
darkness
claimed
him
for
their
own
.
That
was
the
reflection
that
made
you
creepy
all
over
.
It
was
impossible
--
it
was
not
good
for
one
either
--
trying
to
imagine
.
He
had
taken
a
high
seat
amongst
the
devils
of
the
land
--
I
mean
literally
.
You
ca
n't
understand
.
How
could
you
?
--
with
solid
pavement
under
your
feet
,
surrounded
by
kind
neighbours
ready
to
cheer
you
or
to
fall
on
you
,
stepping
delicately
between
the
butcher
and
the
policeman
,
in
the
holy
terror
of
scandal
and
gallows
and
lunatic
asylums
--
how
can
you
imagine
what
particular
region
of
the
first
ages
a
man
's
untrammelled
feet
may
take
him
into
by
the
way
of
solitude
--
utter
solitude
without
a
policeman
--
by
the
way
of
silence
--
utter
silence
,
where
no
warning
voice
of
a
kind
neighbour
can
be
heard
whispering
of
public
opinion
?
These
little
things
make
all
the
great
difference
.
When
they
are
gone
you
must
fall
back
upon
your
own
innate
strength
,
upon
your
own
capacity
for
faithfulness
.
Of
course
you
may
be
too
much
of
a
fool
to
go
wrong
--
too
dull
even
to
know
you
are
being
assaulted
by
the
powers
of
darkness
.
I
take
it
,
no
fool
ever
made
a
bargain
for
his
soul
with
the
devil
;
the
fool
is
too
much
of
a
fool
,
or
the
devil
too
much
of
a
devil
--
I
do
n't
know
which
.
Or
you
may
be
such
a
thunderingly
exalted
creature
as
to
be
altogether
deaf
and
blind
to
anything
but
heavenly
sights
and
sounds
.
Then
the
earth
for
you
is
only
a
standing
place
--
and
whether
to
be
like
this
is
your
loss
or
your
gain
I
wo
n't
pretend
to
say
.
But
most
of
us
are
neither
one
nor
the
other
.
The
earth
for
us
is
a
place
to
live
in
,
where
we
must
put
up
with
sights
,
with
sounds
,
with
smells
,
too
,
by
Jove
!
--
breathe
dead
hippo
,
so
to
speak
,
and
not
be
contaminated
.
And
there
,
do
n't
you
see
?
Your
strength
comes
in
,
the
faith
in
your
ability
for
the
digging
of
unostentatious
holes
to
bury
the
stuff
in
--
your
power
of
devotion
,
not
to
yourself
,
but
to
an
obscure
,
back-breaking
business
.
And
that
's
difficult
enough
.
Mind
,
I
am
not
trying
to
excuse
or
even
explain
--
I
am
trying
to
account
to
myself
for
--
for
--
Mr.
Kurtz
--
for
the
shade
of
Mr.
Kurtz
.
This
initiated
wraith
from
the
back
of
Nowhere
honoured
me
with
its
amazing
confidence
before
it
vanished
altogether
.
This
was
because
it
could
speak
English
to
me
.
The
original
Kurtz
had
been
educated
partly
in
England
,
and
--
as
he
was
good
enough
to
say
himself
--
his
sympathies
were
in
the
right
place
.
His
mother
was
half
--
English
,
his
father
was
half
--
French
.
All
Europe
contributed
to
the
making
of
Kurtz
;
and
by
and
by
I
learned
that
,
most
appropriately
,
the
International
Society
for
the
Suppression
of
Savage
Customs
had
intrusted
him
with
the
making
of
a
report
,
for
its
future
guidance
.
And
he
had
written
it
,
too
.
I
've
seen
it
.
I
've
read
it
.
It
was
eloquent
,
vibrating
with
eloquence
,
but
too
high-strung
,
I
think
.
Seventeen
pages
of
close
writing
he
had
found
time
for
!
But
this
must
have
been
before
his
--
let
us
say
--
nerves
,
went
wrong
,
and
caused
him
to
preside
at
certain
midnight
dances
ending
with
unspeakable
rites
,
which
--
as
far
as
I
reluctantly
gathered
from
what
I
heard
at
various
times
--
were
offered
up
to
him
--
do
you
understand
?
--
to
Mr.
Kurtz
himself
.
But
it
was
a
beautiful
piece
of
writing
.
The
opening
paragraph
,
however
,
in
the
light
of
later
information
,
strikes
me
now
as
ominous
.
He
began
with
the
argument
that
we
whites
,
from
the
point
of
development
we
had
arrived
at
,
'
must
necessarily
appear
to
them
[
savages
]
in
the
nature
of
supernatural
beings
--
we
approach
them
with
the
might
of
a
deity
,
'
and
so
on
,
and
so
on
.
'
By
the
simple
exercise
of
our
will
we
can
exert
a
power
for
good
practically
unbounded
,
'
etc.
,
etc.
.
From
that
point
he
soared
and
took
me
with
him
.
The
peroration
was
magnificent
,
though
difficult
to
remember
,
you
know
.
It
gave
me
the
notion
of
an
exotic
Immensity
ruled
by
an
august
Benevolence
.
It
made
me
tingle
with
enthusiasm
.
This
was
the
unbounded
power
of
eloquence
--
of
words
--
of
burning
noble
words
.
There
were
no
practical
hints
to
interrupt
the
magic
current
of
phrases
,
unless
a
kind
of
note
at
the
foot
of
the
last
page
,
scrawled
evidently
much
later
,
in
an
unsteady
hand
,
may
be
regarded
as
the
exposition
of
a
method
.
It
was
very
simple
,
and
at
the
end
of
that
moving
appeal
to
every
altruistic
sentiment
it
blazed
at
you
,
luminous
and
terrifying
,
like
a
flash
of
lightning
in
a
serene
sky
:
'
Exterminate
all
the
brutes
!
'
The
curious
part
was
that
he
had
apparently
forgotten
all
about
that
valuable
postscriptum
,
because
,
later
on
,
when
he
in
a
sense
came
to
himself
,
he
repeatedly
entreated
me
to
take
good
care
of
'
my
pamphlet
'
(
he
called
it
)
,
as
it
was
sure
to
have
in
the
future
a
good
influence
upon
his
career
.
I
had
full
information
about
all
these
things
,
and
,
besides
,
as
it
turned
out
,
I
was
to
have
the
care
of
his
memory
.
I
've
done
enough
for
it
to
give
me
the
indisputable
right
to
lay
it
,
if
I
choose
,
for
an
everlasting
rest
in
the
dust-bin
of
progress
,
amongst
all
the
sweepings
and
,
figuratively
speaking
,
all
the
dead
cats
of
civilization
.
But
then
,
you
see
,
I
ca
n't
choose
.
He
wo
n't
be
forgotten
.
Whatever
he
was
,
he
was
not
common
.
He
had
the
power
to
charm
or
frighten
rudimentary
souls
into
an
aggravated
witch-dance
in
his
honour
;
he
could
also
fill
the
small
souls
of
the
pilgrims
with
bitter
misgivings
:
he
had
one
devoted
friend
at
least
,
and
he
had
conquered
one
soul
in
the
world
that
was
neither
rudimentary
nor
tainted
with
self-seeking
.
No
;
I
ca
n't
forget
him
,
though
I
am
not
prepared
to
affirm
the
fellow
was
exactly
worth
the
life
we
lost
in
getting
to
him
.
I
missed
my
late
helmsman
awfully
--
I
missed
him
even
while
his
body
was
still
lying
in
the
pilot-house
.
Perhaps
you
will
think
it
passing
strange
this
regret
for
a
savage
who
was
no
more
account
than
a
grain
of
sand
in
a
black
Sahara
.
Well
,
do
n't
you
see
,
he
had
done
something
,
he
had
steered
;
for
months
I
had
him
at
my
back
--
a
help
--
an
instrument
.
It
was
a
kind
of
partnership
.
He
steered
for
me
--
I
had
to
look
after
him
,
I
worried
about
his
deficiencies
,
and
thus
a
subtle
bond
had
been
created
,
of
which
I
only
became
aware
when
it
was
suddenly
broken
.
And
the
intimate
profundity
of
that
look
he
gave
me
when
he
received
his
hurt
remains
to
this
day
in
my
memory
--
like
a
claim
of
distant
kinship
affirmed
in
a
supreme
moment
.
