the leadership of Colonel Waring, it was one of the cleanest cities in the world.

Self-Condemned

Last week a number of well-known men in New York assured the Secretary of State by letter of their conviction that for any measure he might adopt in order to give the European Powers the moral support of the United States in "any undertaking to secure conditions in the Congo that will not disgrace civilization," he would have their "earnest and urgent approval." The signers of this letter pointed to the fact that over a year has passed "since the report of the Commission chosen by the Chief Executive and virtual owner of the Congo to investigate conditions ir. that State was published," and that those Commissioners "felt constrained to report the existence of measures and practices of flagrant inhumanity." In view of the repeated assertions that the criticism of the Congo Government is based upon the tales of prejudiced missionaries and superficial travelers, it is important to remember that there is no occasion for looking any further for an indictment of the Congo Government than the report of these Commissioners. From that report were selected seven points for specific mention. One needs only to turn to that report to see how well established are those seven statements made by the writers of the letter. We here quote those seven points, and under each point certain portions of the report which substantiate the statement. We shall use the

English translation of the report, published by G. P. Putnam's Sons, entitled "The Congo: A Report of the Commission of Inquiry." The numbers in paren theses refer to the pages of this edition. Readers of The Outlook who wish to follow this matter further will find these references useful. The measures and practices which the writers of this letter note are as follows:

The first point in this letter is, "The exaction of a labor tax so oppressive that many natives on whom it falls have little, if any, freedom." The Commissioners remark (p. 30) that “a labor tax,

as in the case of all taxes, should absorb only a small portion of the activities of the individuals; it ought to supply simply the needs of the government, be in relation to the benefits which the contributors receive therefrom; it ought finally, as we propose, be in harmony as far as possible with the principle of individual liberty, and we believe that within these limits it cannot be criticised." By decree of the King-Sovereign (p. 37) the total amount of the labor tax "cannot exceed during any one month forty hours of actual labor." As a matter of fact, however, what do we find? In the first place (p. 39), it is not labor but produce that is exacted, and so great an amount of produce that in some cases the native has little or no time for anything but the toil of gathering it and conveying it to his taskmasters. Thus, concerning the collection of chikwangue (p. 46, 47, 48):

All of the witnesses who were heard by the Commission on this subject were unanimous in criticising the large amount that was imposed upon the women of certain villages, the continuity of the imposition, and the long journeys that had to be made... The worst feature of this imposition is its continuity. As the chikwangue can be preserved only a few days, the native, even by doubling his activities, cannot at one time discharge his obligation extending over a long period. The imposition . . . becomes a sort of obligatory labor, since there is ever before the native the thought of delivery that must soon be made. It is inadmissible that he should be obliged to travel 150 kilometers [over ninety miles] to bring to the place of delivery a tax which represents a value of about one franc and a half [about thirty cents]. . . . Following the rule that we have observed in vogue, the labor is thrown upon the weaker members of the family, so that it is the women, children, and domestic slaves who are forced to be the agencies of

transport. This peculiarity, instead of attenuating the bad features of the system, rather increases them. For it is these who form the industrious element of the village, by the exigencies of the impost and procurand if a great part of their time is taken up ing the means for their own subsistence, they have not, however great may be their desire, a chance to perform other labor; hence the abandonment of native industries and impoverishment of villages.

So the report gives a similar picture of wretched conditions as a result of forced labor for porterage (p. 57 seq.):

Without doubt the form of impressed labor that weighs most heavily upon the natives is the service as porters. ... Caravans

of native porters could be seen in a constant stream carrying upon their heads innumerable articles that were impatiently awaited by the whites on the upper reaches of the Congo.... The caravan route where black and white, united in the same effort, had paid such a heavy tribute to fatigue and fever, the dark pathway holding in its keeping so many lifeless bodies, has been invaded by the plants and trees of the forest. In two days the trains now go from Matadi to Leopoldville and from the Pool to the lower river; the natives are born again to a new life. But for every route which has disappeared, many others have been called into existence as the new regions have been opened up by the State.

The practical slavery of the native who is forced to gather rubber is thus described by the Commissioners (p. 63):

In the majority of cases he must make a journey every fortnight which takes two or three days, sometimes more, in order to reach that part of the forest where he can find in sufficient quantities the rubber vines. There, for a certain number of days, he leads an uncomfortable existence. He must construct for himself a temporary shelter; . . . he does not have the food to which he is accustomed; . . . he is . . . exposed . . . to the attacks of wild beasts. He must carry what he has gathered to the State post or to the company, and not until then does he return to his village, where he can tarry only two or three days before the time for the next delivery is close at hand. . . . The native... sees the greater part of his time taken up in the gathering of rubber.

The second point in the letter is the "Appropriation of land to such an extent that the natives are practically prisoners within their own territory."

The Commissioners explain that the State has ordained that to it belong all vacant lands, which means (p. 19) all the land except "those parts of the territory that are included within their [the natives'] villages or under their cultivation.' The Commissioners continue (p. 19 seq.):

As the greater part of the land in the

Congo has never been under cultivation, this interpretation gives to the State a proprietary right, absolute and exclusive, to almost all the land, and as a consequence it can grant to itself all the product of the soil and prosecute as robbers those who gather the smallest fruit and as accomplices those who buy the same. . . . It thus happens sometimes that not only have the natives been prohibited from moving their villages, but they have been refused permission to go, even for a time, to a neighboring village without a special permit.

Though the Commissioners hasten to add that agents have not rigidly enforced the law, they acknowledge that it is "the incontrovertible law," and they point out elsewhere (pp. 21 and 24) that it practically prevents the natives from profiting by the natural resources of the country, and from engaging in any trade. The third point in the letter is "The employment under the authority of the Government as sentries of cruel brutish blacks, chosen from hostile tribes, who murder, pillage, and rape the people for whose protection the Government is avowedly established."

These words of the Commissioners are sufficient to indicate the conditions of which the details would be too revolting to include even in their report (p. 71):

According to these witnesses, these auxil iaries, especially those who are detailed to the villages, abuse the authority committed to them, transform themselves into despots, demanding wives, food not only for themselves but also for a retinue of parasites and vagrants who, drawn by a love for rapine, become their associates and form a sort of bodyguard; they kill without pity those who make the least show of resistance to complying with their demands or caprice. . . . It is not possible for us to say, even approximately, how many abuses these sentries have committed. Several chiefs in the Baringa region brought to us a bunch of sticks, each one of which was said to represent a subject killed by the capitas [the less offensive of the two classes of sentries]. One of them declared that in his village one hundred and twenty had been killed during the past years.

None of the agents who testified before the Commission, or were present at the sessions, made any attempt to refute the charges against the sentries.

The fourth point in the letter is "The abuse of the natives by white representatives of officially recognized companies."

These are some of the things the Commissioners have to say on the subject (pp. 66, 67, 69, 144–5, 110):

In the absence of a specific law and precise instruction upon the subject, the agents charged with the exercise of coercion, applying the principle of solidarity which exists among those who are the subjects of the same chief, often trouble themselves but little to seek out the real culprit. The prestations were due from the village as a whole; when they were not forthcoming the chiefs were arrested and some of the inhabitants taken at random, often the women were held as hostages At the different posts in the Abir which we visited it was never denied

that the imprisonment of women as hostages, the imposition of servile work on chiefs, the administration of the lash to delinquents, and the abuse of authority by the black overseers, were, as a rule, habitual. . . . The punishment most frequently used is the lash (chicotte).... The regulations fix fifty strokes as the maximum, and the convict cannot receive more than twenty-five in any one day. . . . Private parties, and notably the agents of the commercial companies, are not permitted to use the lash on their black employees. In spite of the restrictions imposed by law upon the use of the chicotte, it is often abused, either in resorting too frequently for slight offenses or in exceeding the limits prescribed. . . . Still it is undeniable that the chiefs of stations are led to violate the provisions by the desire to inflict a punishment that will serve as an example. . . . These companies have done nothing in the interests of the natives nor improved the conditions in the regions occupied.

The fifth point in the letter is "The binding of little children to years of labor at uncertain wages by contracts they do not understand, and, even more serious, maltreatment of children supposedly under. the immediate care of the Government."

This is a part of what the Commissioners say on this subject (pp. 141, 142):

The unfortunate features of long engagements are especially noticeable in the case of children. It happens that the District Commissioners employ, particularly for the fields, children of seven and eight years who are bound for a period of several years by a contract whose provisions they probably do not thoroughly understand. ... The average life of the native is much shorter than that of the white man. So that the term, which at the time of making the contract is not fully appreciated, will consume the greater part of his life. . . . It often happens that after a very short time the intrinsic value of the wage specified in the contract is not the same.

The Commissioners also (p. 122) call attention to the fact that the State itself often takes the children from their relatives their natural protectors-and puts them into educational colonies in order to make out of them "excellent servants, good soldiers, and workmen of all sorts;" and has thus been "forced to endure the reproach of 'recruiting,' under the guise of assistance. but against the wishes of those interested, the young people destined to fill the ranks of its constabulary." Later (pp. 125-129) the Commissioners refer to the abuse of

children in the missions which have accepted the authority of caring for certain children who have come under the guardianship of the State.

The sixth point in the letter is the "Great injustice in the administration of the courts, so that the natives dread the name of Boma, the place where the judicial system is centralized.”

The Commissioners say (pp. 150-151):

Administrative agents . . . cannot. . . acquire a profound knowledge of the laws of the land. . . It has therefore been found desirable to refer the most important civil and penal cases to the Boma court for trial.

But these long journeys are especially prejudicial to the blacks. It is a sad fact, verified by observation, the judges told us, that a large number of blacks who come down from the Upper Congo as witnesses never see again their native villages, but die during the trip they are forced to make. The number of those who die has created a great impression upon the natives. The simple word "Boma "frightens them.

The seventh point in the letter is "The sending out of punitive expeditions, not for the purpose of establishing peace and order, but for the purpose of terrifying the natives into paying a tax which, as administered, even the Commissioners regard as inhuman."

Contrary to the law, companies send out such expeditions. This fact the Commissioners (pp. 96-98) say is established by documents and judicial reports as well as the reports of the commercial agents themselves. This is what the Commissioners have to say with regard to punitive expeditions:

During these irregular operations the greatest abuses have been committed; men have been killed as well as women and chil dren, often even when they were fleeing; others have been made prisoners and the wives taken as hostages. The Govern

ment has, in fact, placed upon certain concessions a police force charged with the protection and supervision of the territory which is directly under the authority of the District Commissioner. The directors of the companies may summons them directly in case of extreme need. From what we could see it seems that these troops are devoted to the directors and agents, who call upon them every time the pecuniary interests of the compary are involved.

This is but a fraction of what the King's own Commission have to say about the King's own government of the territory which has been given to him

The Spectator

It seems a thousand pities to the Spectator that the impression should be so widespread that New York is all given over to the mammon of haste and greed; that the very conditions of its life necessitate restless striving; that it knows no contemplation. On the contrary, what better conditions of repose can there be than a great sustaining sea of life and purposeful activity on which one may launch one's little bark, secure from molestation? That is the theory of the thing. Now, theory does all very well, but experience does better. And, luckily for the Spectator, it happened that, when he sallied forth to buy a new pad on which to transcribe his theory, he found experience. He will therefore let the theory go, and tell the little story.

It was the tiniest shop imaginable, just off Broadway, on one of the side streets. The rush of the great thoroughfare, in its high noontide acceleration, was bewildering. Dodging people and horses and vehicles and rabbit-women and peanut-men and a dozen distractions else, the Spectator had worked his way along, watching for a stationer's sign, but watching so many other things too that very likely he passed half a dozen abodes of pads and bottles of ink. Finally he pulled himself up. If he was to find that pad! He looked about him, and, not fifteen paces away, he saw a modest sign: "Pens. Ink. Paper. Elastic Bands. All Stationers' Supplies." So then he spun away out of the vortex, descended a narrow flight of steps, and

opened a dusty door. It was almost more than the Spectator could do not to say, "Oh, I beg your pardon!" as he stood on the threshold of that little room. He had entered with all the contagion of the street's haste upon him, brusquely perhaps, and imperatively, his purse already half open to make his purchase and be gone. He was greeted with-pause and silence. A gray cat sat dozing upon the counter, her paws tucked neatly into her breast. An old man sat dozing beneath the window, a newspaper on his knee. On shelves along one side of the wall the advertised articles were arranged-piles of writingpads, bottles of ink, a few books in a dusty row, some boxes of note-paper. But there was no sign of a customer, except the startled, arrested Spectator, and so little evident habit of one that neither the old man nor the cat stirred at the sudden entrance.

A curtain at the end of the room lifted, and a woman came forward. She was evidently the wife of the man, some few years younger, but gray-haired, too, very portly and serene.

"They're both deaf," she answered the Spectator's mute appeal. "You can speak out. Did you want anything?"

"I, oh, yes—" the Spectator stammered. He had forgotten what he did want, in his sudden revulsion of mood, his surprising shock of silence. "I should like a writing-pad, if you please."

"Yes. Well, if you will sit down here, I'll show you what we have."

It was going to be a pondered transaction, seriously and thoroughly done, that was evident. The Spectator settled himself on his stool to summon his best judgment. From one shelf and another the pads came down-thick pads, thin pads, ruled, unruled, glazed, rough-and he viewed them gravely.

"How about those?" he inquired at length, pointing to a pile yet untouched, on one end of the lower shelf.

"But those "-the answer came at once, with no doubt of its finality"those cost ten cents."

The Spectator rose magnificently.

The comment was too obvious on his personal appearance.

"I will take six," he said.

But the process of doing up his purchase gave him time to recover from his resentment. Little by little, he relapsed to his stool, leaned his elbow on the counter, and watched in a dreamy content. It was inconceivable that in New York, not fifteen paces from Broadway, a shop's supply of wrapping-paper should be kept folded up in a drawer and its string, more or less tangled, in a worsted bag.

"You're tired, sir," the good woman said, as she folded and tied, and began a search for the scissors.

"Yes; well," the Spectator admitted, moved to a sudden frankness which was the rebound of his late irritation, “I'm just back from the country, not used to the city yet."

It was a commonplace statement enough, but it touched a spring in the woman's mind. She laid aside the scissors, unused.

"You find it's peacefuller, then, in the country than in the city?" she asked, a little anxiously.

The Spectator thought of the theory which he had been fain to elaborate on one of his expensive new pads, and ans wered with interest," No, not always." Then, involuntarily, "Why?"

The Spectator assured her-though somewhat flattered withal-that such was not the case.

"Well, you ought to be, then," she rebuked him. "Jim and I was when we were your age. We kept a grocery-shop, and we were regular hustlers. Making money hand over fist. I tell you, those were days! In the shop every morning at six o'clock, never out of it till nine. Keeping up with all the new foods, all the whims and fancies. We made money; but 'twasn't living, 'twasn't living at all."

The Spectator nodded his head. Not that he had ever kept a grocery-shop, or made any money, to be sure; but he had done other things enough to know the bane of over-action.

"I guess a person has to go sort of slow to know he's himself at all," the quiet voice went on. "I might have died just as well as not, in them days when I was hurrying so, and never have known the difference." A trenchant way of putting the case, which appears constantly the better, the more one considers it.

"I don't know as it's selfish, or unselfish, or what, to want quietness; but I guess it's natural after a while. Jim and I was just tired to death after fifteen or twenty years. It seemed to us as if we was just driving our lives on ahead of us and never catching up with them to see what they was like. I suppose it's very important that folks should have

I

tea and breakfast foods; but Jim we

thought it was important, too, that should live a little before it was too late. It's rather a serious matter, you know; for if a person don't get a good hold on his life while he has it here on the earth, what under the sun is he going to hang onto when he gets flung out into space?"

The Spectator caught his breath dizzily. True; what, in heaven's name?

66

"Of course we said we'd have a house in the country; all tired folks say that. I do just wonder who's first to blame for that idea that every one has, that a country life means peace. He's got a good deal to answer for; Jim and I can tell him that. We bought a place