eddying waters flash and sparkle, and caused the banks of sand to
glare like whitewashed walls, and turn the sharp, hard fronds of the
palms into glittering sword-blades. The movement of the boat
tempered the heat, and in lazy content we sat in our lookout box and
smiled upon the world. Except for the throb of the engine and the
slow splash, splash, splash of the wheel there was no sound. We
might have been adrift in the heart of a great ocean. So complete
was the silence, so few were the sounds of man's presence, that at
times one almost thought that ours was the first boat to disturb the
Congo.
Although we were travelling by boat, we spent as much time on land
as on the water. Because the _Deliverance_ burnt wood and, like an
invading army, "lived on the country," she was always stopping to
lay in a supply. That gave Anfossi and myself a chance to visit the
native villages or to hunt in the forest.
To feed her steamers the State has established along the river-bank
posts for wood, and in theory at these places there always is a
sufficient supply of wood to carry a steamer to the next post. But
our experience was either that another steamer had just taken all
the wood or that the boys had decided to work no more and had hidden
themselves in the bush. The State posts were "clearings," less than
one hundred yards square, cut out of the jungle. Sometimes only
black men were in charge, but as a rule the _chef de poste_ was a
lonely, fever-ridden white, whose only interest in our arrival was
his hope that we might spare him quinine. I think we gave away as
many grains of quinine as we received logs of wood. Empty-handed we
would turn from the wood post and steam a mile or so farther up the
river, where we would run into a bank, and a boy with a steel hawser
would leap overboard and tie up the boat to the roots of a tree.
Then all the boys would disappear into the jungle and attack the
primeval forest. Each was supplied with a machete and was expected
to furnish a _bras_ of wood. A _bras_ is a number of sticks about as
long and as thick as your arm, placed in a pile about three feet
high and about three feet wide. To fix this measure the head boy
drove poles into the bank three feet apart, and from pole to pole at
the same distance from the ground stretched a strip of bark. When
each boy had filled one of these openings all the wood was carried
on board, and we would unhitch the _Deliverance_, and she would
proceed to burn up the fuel we had just collected. It took the
twenty boys about four hours to cut the wood, and the _Deliverance_
the same amount of time to burn it. It was distinctly a
hand-to-mouth existence. As I have pointed out, when it is too dark
to see the currents, the Congo captains never attempt to travel. So
each night at sunset Captain Jensen ran into the bank, and as soon
as the plank was out all the black passengers and the crew passed
down it and spent the night on shore. In five minutes the women
would have the fires lighted and the men would be cutting grass
for bedding and running up little shelters of palm boughs and
hanging up linen strips that were both tents and mosquito nets.
[Illustration: The Native Wife of a _Chef de Poste_.]
In the moonlight the natives with their camp-fires and torches made
most wonderful pictures. Sometimes for their sleeping place the
captain would select a glade in the jungle, or where a stream had
cut a little opening in the forest, or a sandy island, with tall
rushes on either side and the hot African moon shining on the white
sand and turning the palms to silver, or they would pitch camp in a
buffalo wallow, where the grass and mud had been trampled into a
clay floor by the hoofs of hundreds of wild animals. But the fact
that they were to sleep where at sunrise and at sunset came
buffaloes, elephants, and panthers, disturbed the women not at all,
and as they bent, laughing, over the iron pots, the firelight shone
on their bare shoulders and was reflected from their white teeth and
rolling eyes and brazen bangles.
Until late in the night the goats would bleat, babies cry, and the
"boys" and "mammies" talked, sang, quarrelled, beat tom-toms, and
squeezed mournful groans out of the accordion of civilization. One
would have thought we had anchored off a busy village rather than at
a place where, before that night, the inhabitants had been only the
beasts of the jungle and the river.
IV
AMERICANS IN THE CONGO
In trying to sum up what I found in the Congo Free State, I think
what one fails to find there is of the greatest significance. To
tell what the place is like, you must tell what it lacks. One must
write of the Congo always in the negative. It is as though you
asked: "What sort of a house is this one Jones has built?" and were
answered: "Well, it hasn't any roof, and it hasn't any cellar, and
it has no windows, floors, or chimneys. It's that kind of a house."
When first I arrived in the Congo the time I could spend there
seemed hopelessly inadequate. After I'd been there a month, it
seemed to me that in a very few days any one could obtain a
painfully correct idea of the place, and of the way it is
administered. If an orchestra starts on an piece of music with all
the instruments out of tune, it need not play through the entire
number for you to know that the instruments are out of tune.
The charges brought against Leopold II, as King of the Congo, are
three:
(_a_) That he has made slaves of the twenty million blacks he
promised to protect.
(_b_) That, in spite of his promise to keep the Congo open to trade,
he has closed it to all nations.
(_c_) That the revenues of the country and all of its trade he has
retained for himself.
Any one who visits the Congo and remains only two weeks will be
convinced that of these charges Leopold is guilty. In that time he
will not see atrocities, but he will see that the natives are
slaves, that no foreigner can trade with them, that in the interest
of Leopold alone the country is milked.
He will see that the government of Leopold is not a government. It
preserves the perquisites and outward signs of government. It coins
money, issues stamps, collects taxes. But it assumes none of the
responsibilities of government. The Congo Free State is only a great
trading house. And in it Leopold is the only wholesale and retail
trader. He gives a bar of soap for rubber, and makes a "turn-over"
of a cup of salt for ivory. He is not a monarch. He is a shopkeeper.
And were the country not so rich in rubber and ivory, were the
natives not sweated so severely, he also would be a bankrupt
shopkeeper. For the Congo is not only one vast trading post, but
also it is a trading post badly managed. Even in the republics of
Central America where the government changes so frequently, and
where each new president is trying to make hay while he can, there
is better administration, more is done for the people, the rights of
other nations are better respected.
Were the Congo properly managed, it would be one of the richest
territories on the surface of the earth. As it is, through ignorance
and cupidity, it is being despoiled and its people are the most
wretched of human beings. In the White Book containing the reports
of British vice-consuls on conditions in the Congo from April of
last year to January of this year, Mr. Mitchell tells how the
enslavement of the people still continues, how "they" (the
conscripts, as they are called) "are hunted in the forest by
soldiers, and brought in chained by the neck like criminals." They
then, though conscripted to serve in the army, are set to manual
labor. They are slaves. The difference between the slavery under
Leopold and the slavery under the Arab raiders is that the Arab was
the better and kinder master. He took "prisoners" just as Leopold
seizes "conscripts," but he had too much foresight to destroy whole
villages, to carry off all the black man's live stock, and to uproot
his vegetable gardens. He purposed to return. And he did not wish to
so terrify the blacks that to escape from him they would penetrate
farther into the jungle. His motive was purely selfish, but his
methods, compared with those of Leopold, were almost considerate.
The work the State to-day requires of the blacks is so oppressive
that they have no time, no heart, to labor for themselves.
In every other colony--French, English, German--in the native
villages I saw vegetable gardens, goats, and chickens, large,
comfortable, three-room huts, fences, and, especially in the German
settlement of the Cameroons at Duala, many flower gardens. In Bell
Town at Duala I walked for miles through streets lined with such
huts and gardens, and saw whole families, the very old as well as
the very young, sitting contentedly in the shade of their trees, or
at work in their gardens. In the Congo native villages I saw but one
old person, of chickens or goats that were not to be given to the
government as taxes I saw none, and the vegetable gardens, when
there were any such, were cultivated for the benefit of the _chef de
poste_, and the huts were small, temporary, and filthy. The dogs in
the kennels on my farm are better housed, better fed, and much
better cared for, whether ill or well, than are the twenty millions
of blacks along the Congo River. And that these human beings are so
ill-treated is due absolutely to the cupidity of one man, and to the
apathy of the rest of the world. And it is due as much to the apathy
and indifference of whoever may read this as to the silence of Elihu
Root or Sir Edward Grey. No one can shirk his responsibility by
sneering, "Am I my brother's keeper?" The Government of the United
States and the thirteen other countries have promised to protect
these people, to care for their "material and moral welfare," and
that promise is morally binding upon the people of those countries.
How much Leopold cares for the material welfare of the natives is
illustrated by the prices he pays the "boys" who worked on the
government steamer in which I went up the Kasai. They were bound on
a three months' voyage, and for each month's work on this trip they
were given in payment their rice and eighty cents. That is, at the
end of the trip they received what in our money would be equivalent
to two dollars and forty cents. And that they did not receive in
money, but in "trade goods," which are worth about ten per cent less
than their money value. So that of the two dollars and eighty cents
that is due them, these black boys, who for three months sweated in
the dark jungle cutting wood, are robbed by this King of twenty-four
cents. One would dislike to grow rich at that price.
[Illustration: English Missionaries, and Some of Their Charges.]
In the French Congo I asked the traders at Libreville what they paid
their boys for cutting mahogany. I found the price was four francs a
day without "chop," or three and a half francs with "chop." That
is, on one side of the river the French pay in cash for one day's
work what Leopold pays in trade goods for the work of a month. As a
result the natives run away to the French side, and often, I might
almost say invariably, when at the _poste de bois_ on the Congo side
we would find two cords of wood, on the other bank at the post for
the French boats we would count two hundred and fifty cords of wood.
I took photographs of the native villages in all the colonies, in
order to show how they compared--of the French and Belgian wood
posts, the one well stocked and with the boys lying about asleep or
playing musical instruments, or alert to trade and barter, and on
the Belgian side no wood, and the unhappy white man alone, and
generally shivering with fever. Had the photographs only developed
properly they would have shown much more convincingly than one can
write how utterly miserable is the condition of the Congo negro. And
the condition of the white man at the wood posts is only a little
better. We found one man absolutely without supplies. He was only
twenty-four hours distant from Leopoldville, but no supplies had
been sent him. He was ill with fever, and he could eat nothing but
milk. Captain Jensen had six cans of condensed milk, which the State
calculated should suffice for him and his passengers for three
months. He turned the lot over to the sick man.
We found another white man at the first wood post on the Kasai just
above where it meets the Congo. He was in bed and dangerously ill
with enteric fever. He had telegraphed the State at Leopoldville and
a box of medicines had been sent to him; but the State doctors had
forgotten to enclose any directions for their use. We were as
ignorant of medicines as the man himself, and, as it was impossible
to move him, we were forced to leave him lying in his cot with the
row of bottles and tiny boxes, that might have given him life,
unopened at his elbow. It was ten days before the next boat would
touch at his post. I do not know that it reached him in time. One
could tell dozens of such stories of cruelty to natives and of
injustice and neglect to the white agents.
The fact that Leopold has granted to American syndicates control
over two great territories in the Congo may bring about a better
state of affairs, and, in any event, it may arouse public interest
in this country. It certainly should be of interest to Americans
that some of the most prominent of their countrymen have gone into
close partnership with a speculator as unscrupulous and as notorious
as is Leopold, and that they are to exploit a country which as yet
has been developed only by the help of slavery, with all its
attendant evils of cruelty and torture.
That Leopold has no right to give these concessions is a matter
which chiefly concerns the men who are to pay for them, but it is an
interesting fact.
The Act of Berlin expressly states: _"No Power which exercises, or
shall exercise, sovereign rights in the above-mentioned regions,
shall be allowed to grant therein a monopoly or favor of any kind in
matters of trade."_
Leopold is only a steward placed by the Powers over the Congo. He is
a janitor. And he has no more authority to give even a foot of
territory to Belgians, Americans, or Chinamen than the janitor of an
apartment house has authority to fill the rooms with his wife's
relations or sell the coal in the basement.
The charge that the present concessionaires have no title that any
independent trader or miner need respect is one that is sure to be
brought up when the Powers throw Leopold out, and begin to clean
house. The concessionaires take a sporting chance that Leopold will
not be thrown out. It should be remembered that it is to his and to
their advantage to see that he is not.
In November of 1906, Leopold gave the International Forestry and
Mining Company of the Congo mining rights in territories adjoining
his private park, the _Domaine de la Couronne_, and to the American
Congo Company he granted the right to work rubber along the Congo
River to where it joins the Kasai. This latter is a territory of
four thousand square miles. The company also has the option within
the next eleven years of buying land in any part of a district which
is nearly one-half of the entire Congo. Of the Forestry and Mining
Company one-half of the profits go to Leopold, one-fourth to
Belgians, and the remaining fourth to the Americans. Of the profits
of the American Congo Company, Leopold is entitled to one-half and
the Americans to the other half. This company was one originally
organized to exploit a new method of manufacturing crude rubber from
the plant. The company was taken over by Thomas F. Ryan and his
associates. Back of both companies are the Guggenheims, who are to
perform the actual work in the mines and in the rubber plantation.
Early in March a large number of miners and engineers were selected
by John Hays Hammond, the chief engineer of the Guggenheim
Exploration Companies, and A. Chester Beatty, and were sent to
explore the territory granted in the mining concession. Another
force of experts are soon to follow. The legal representative of the
syndicates has stated that in the Congo they intend to move "on
commercial lines." By that we take it they mean they will give the
native a proper price for his labor; and instead of offering
"bonuses" and "commissions" to their white employees will pay them
living wages. The exact terms of the concessions are wrapped in
mystery. Some say the territories ceded to the concessionaires are
to be governed by them, policed by them, and that within the
boundaries of these concessions the Americans are to have absolute
control. If this be so the syndicates are entering upon an
experiment which for Americans is almost without precedent. They
will be virtually what in England is called a chartered company,
with the difference that the Englishmen receive their charter from
their own government, while the charter under which the Americans
will act will be granted by a foreign Power, and for what they may
do in the Congo their own government could not hold them
responsible. They are answerable only to the Power that issued the
charter; and that Power is the just, the humane, the merciful
Leopold.
The history of the early days of chartered companies in Africa,
notoriously those of the Congo, Northern Nigeria, Rhodesia, and
German Central Africa does not make pleasant reading. But until the
Americans in the Congo have made this experiment, it would be most
unfair (except that the company they choose to keep leaves them open
to suspicion) not to give them the benefit of the doubt. One can at
least say for them that they seem to be absolutely ignorant of the
difficulties that lie before them. At least that is true of all of
them to whom I have talked.
The attorney of the Rubber Company when interviewed by a
representative of a New York paper is reported to have said: "We
have purchased a privilege from a Sovereign State and propose to
operate it along purely commercial lines. With King Leopold's
management of Congo affairs in the past, or, with _what he may do in
an administrative way in the future, we have absolutely nothing to
do_." The italics are mine.
When asked: "Under your concessions are you given similar powers
over the native blacks as are enjoyed by other concessionaires?" the
answer of the attorney, as reported, was: "The problem of labor is
not mentioned in the concession agreement, neither is the question
of local administration. We are left to solve the labor problem in
our own way, on a purely commercial basis, and with the question of
government we have absolutely nothing whatever to do. The labor
problem will not be formidable. Our mills are simple affairs. One
man can manage them, and the question of the labor on the rubber
concession is reduced to the minimum." This answer of the learned
attorney shows an ignorance of "labor" conditions in the Congo which
is, unless assumed, absolutely abject.
If the American syndicates are not to police and govern the
territories ceded them, but if these territories are to continue to
be administered by Leopold, it is not possible for the Americans to
have "absolutely nothing to do" with that administration. Leopold's
sole idea of administration is that every black man is his slave, in
other words, the only men the Americans can depend upon for labor
are slaves. Of the profits of these American companies Leopold is to
receive one-half. He will work his rubber with slaves.
Are the Americans going to use slaves also, or do they intend "on
commercial lines" to pay those who work for them living wages? And
if they do, at the end of the fiscal year, having paid a fair price
for labor, are they prepared to accept a smaller profit than will
their partner Leopold, who obtains his labor with the aid of a chain
and a whip?
[Illustration: The Laboring Man Upon Whom the American
Concessionaires Must Depend.]
The attorney for the company airily says: "The labor problem will
not be formidable."
If the man knows what he is talking about, he can mean but one
thing.
The motives that led Leopold to grant these concessions are possibly
various. The motives that induced the Americans to take his offer
were probably less complicated. With them it was no question of
politics. They wanted the money; they did not need it, for they all
are rich--they merely wanted it. But Leopold wants more than the
half profits he will obtain from the Americans. If the Powers should
wake from their apathy and try to cast him out of the Congo, he
wants, through his American partners, the help of the United States.
Should he be "dethroned," by granting these concessions now on a
share and share alike basis with Belgians, French, and Americans, he
still, through them, hopes to draw from the Congo a fair income. And
in the meanwhile he looks to these Americans to kill any action
against him that may be taken in our Senate and House of
Representatives, even in the White House and Department of State.
For the last two years Chester A. Beatty has been visiting Leopold
at Belgium, and has obtained the two concessions, and Leopold has
obtained, or hopes he has obtained, the influence of many American
shareholders. The fact that the people of the United States
possessed no "vested interest" in the Congo was the important fact
that placed any action on our part in behalf of that distressed
country above suspicion. If we acted, we did so because the United
States, as one of the signatory Powers of the Berlin Act, had
promised to protect the natives of the Congo; and we could truly
claim that we acted only in the name of humanity. Leopold has now
robbed us of that claim. He hopes that the enormous power wielded by
the Americans with whom he is associated, will prevent any action
against him in this country.
But the deal has already been made public, and the motives of those
who now oppose improvement of conditions in the Congo, and who
support Leopold, will be at once suspected.
To me the most interesting thing about the tract of land ceded to
Mr. Ryan, apart from the number of hippopotamuses I saw on it, was
that the people living along the Congo say that it is of no value.
They told me that two years ago, after working it for some time,
Leopold abandoned it as unprofitable, and they added that, when
Leopold cannot whip rubber out of the forest, it is hard to believe
that it can be obtained there legitimately by any one else. On the
bank I saw the "factories" to which the unprofitable rubber had been
carried from the interior. They had formerly belonged to Leopold,
now they are the property of Mr. Ryan and of the American Congo
Company. In only two years they already are in ruins, and the jungle
has engulfed them.
I was on the land owned by the company a dozen times or more, but I
did not go into the interior. Even had I done so, I am not an expert
on rubber, and would have understood nothing of Para trees, Lagos
silk, and liane. I am speaking not of my own knowledge, only of what
was told me by people who live on the spot. I found that this
particular concession was well known, because, unlike the land given
to the Forestry and Mines Company, it is not an inaccessible tract,
but is situated only eight miles from Leopoldville. In our language,
that is about as far as is the Battery to 160th Street. Leopoldville
is the chief place on the Congo River, and every one there who spoke
to me of the concession knew where it was situated, and repeated
that it had been given up by Leopold as unprofitable, and that he
had unloaded it on Mr. Ryan. They seem to think it very clever of
the King to have got rid of it to the American millionaire. To one
knowing Mr. Ryan only from what he reads of him in the public press,
he does not seem to be the sort of man to whom Leopold could sell a
worthless rubber plantation. However, it is a matter which concerns
only Mr. Ryan and those who may think of purchasing shares in the
company. The Guggenheims, who are to operate this rubber, say that
Leopold did not know how to get out the full value of the land, and
that they, by using the machinery they will install, will be able to
make a profit, where Leopold, using only native labor, suffered a
loss.
To the poor the ways of the truly rich are past finding out. After a
man has attained a fortune sufficient to keep him in yachts and
automobiles, one would think he could afford to indulge himself in
the luxury of being squeamish; that as to where he obtained any
further increase of wealth, he would prefer to pick and choose.