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.
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