beside the mark. It was not my strength
that wanted nursing, it was my imagination that wanted soothing. I kept
the bundle of papers given me by Kurtz, not knowing exactly what to do
with it. His mother had died lately, watched over, as I was told, by
his Intended. A clean-shaved man, with an official manner and wearing
gold-rimmed spectacles, called on me one day and made inquiries, at
first circuitous, afterwards suavely pressing, about what he was pleased
to denominate certain 'documents.' I was not surprised, because I had
had two rows with the manager on the subject out there. I had refused
to give up the smallest scrap out of that package, and I took the same
attitude with the spectacled man. He became darkly menacing at last,
and with much heat argued that the Company had the right to every bit
of information about its 'territories.' And, said he, 'Mr. Kurtz's
knowledge of unexplored regions must have been necessarily extensive
and peculiar--owing to his great abilities and to the deplorable
circumstances in which he had been placed: therefore'--I assured him Mr.
Kurtz's knowledge, however extensive, did not bear upon the problems
of commerce or administration. He invoked then the name of science. 'It
would be an incalculable loss if,' &c., &c. I offered him the report on
the 'Suppression of Savage Customs,' with the postscriptum torn off. He
took it up eagerly, but ended by sniffing at it with an air of contempt.
'This is not what we had a right to expect,' he remarked. 'Expect
nothing else,' I said. 'There are only private letters.' He withdrew
upon some threat of legal proceedings, and I saw him no more; but
another fellow, calling himself Kurtz's cousin, appeared two days later,
and was anxious to hear all the details about his dear relative's last
moments. Incidentally he gave me to understand that Kurtz had been
essentially a great musician. 'There was the making of an immense
success,' said the man, who was an organist, I believe, with lank gray
hair flowing over a greasy coat-collar. I had no reason to doubt
his statement; and to this day I am unable to say what was Kurtz's
profession, whether he ever had any--which was the greatest of his
talents. I had taken him for a painter who wrote for the papers, or else
for a journalist who could paint--but even the cousin (who took snuff
during the interview) could not tell me what he had been--exactly. He
was a universal genius--on that point I agreed with the old