March 22: Mark Twain, King Leopold's Soliloquy
Stylistically sub-par (for Twain), this brief "pamphlet" reads like it was rushed off by a hurried pen. Which it may well have been, given the urgency of the subject matter. Twain here is lending his name, if not his brilliance, to the cause of reforming Leopold II's butchery in the Congo Free State. The soliloquy reads more like a naked indictment than like the probable thoughts of the king himself, and thus lacks the aroma of actuality requisite to effective humor or satire.
Moments of sheer, factual horror deliver knockout punches despite the stale prose. One such moment is a description of the magnitude of the butchery, in which Twain reflects that the skeletons of Congolese killed under Leopold II's rule could stretch single file from New York City to San Francisco. This sounds unbelievable. But do the math--you will realize that Twain was actually understating the case. Ten million skeletons, standing hand in hand in a line, would stretch not just from NYC to SF, but also back again.
Twain writes with a novelist's insight, and on this count, King Leopold's Soliloquy is superior to Hochschild's more thorough journalistic rendering. Twain wouldn't be Twain without at least a few unforgettable lines. They arrive at the very end, with Leopold responding to the comment of a missionary that "...we shrink from the particulars of how it happened. We shudder and turn away when we come upon them in print." To which Leopold remarks, "Why certainly--THAT IS MY PROTECTION. And you will continue to do it. I know the human race."
And that is the sickening crux of it, even today--especially today--deplorable inscience of Africa. Unfortunately, Leopold II lives on.
Moments of sheer, factual horror deliver knockout punches despite the stale prose. One such moment is a description of the magnitude of the butchery, in which Twain reflects that the skeletons of Congolese killed under Leopold II's rule could stretch single file from New York City to San Francisco. This sounds unbelievable. But do the math--you will realize that Twain was actually understating the case. Ten million skeletons, standing hand in hand in a line, would stretch not just from NYC to SF, but also back again.
Twain writes with a novelist's insight, and on this count, King Leopold's Soliloquy is superior to Hochschild's more thorough journalistic rendering. Twain wouldn't be Twain without at least a few unforgettable lines. They arrive at the very end, with Leopold responding to the comment of a missionary that "...we shrink from the particulars of how it happened. We shudder and turn away when we come upon them in print." To which Leopold remarks, "Why certainly--THAT IS MY PROTECTION. And you will continue to do it. I know the human race."
And that is the sickening crux of it, even today--especially today--deplorable inscience of Africa. Unfortunately, Leopold II lives on.
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