***Chapter Twenty-Four--Conservative Debate Handbook***

Senator James A. Reed Demonstrates The Effective Use Of Irony & Satire

Speech On Migratory Bird Act

United States Senate, May 23, 1914:
[Note: We again use Senator James A. Reed of Missouri to demonstrate another aspect of the art of effective debate.]

Mr. President, I had the temerity on one or two occasions to suggest that it was not necessary to appropriate money to enforce this alleged law. I stated that applications had been made to both the Departments of Agriculture and of Justice to test the constitutionality of the law, and that those efforts had been fruitless. I therefore maintained that it is manifest from the conduct and demeanor of both of the departments that they do not have any confidence in the validity of the law. Because I thus insisted, I have become the subject of the ridicule and the scorn of the Audubon Society and of that high priest of mercy, Mr. Hornaday. Also, I have been taken to task by certain of the great newspapers of the country.

Mr. President, if I did not think there was a principle involved, I would not take the time of the Senate to discuss this amendment; but the proposition before us is whether Congress shall make an appropriation for the enforcement of a law so plainly invalid that the Department of Justice and the Department of Agriculture, both of which are charged with the duties of enforcement, have practically declined to venture upon a prosecution.

I affirm that the Federal game law was enacted in response to a manufactured sentiment created by an organized lobby.

Mr. President, I call attention to the official publication of the Audubon Society. That publication states in the March and April number of 1913 how the Weeks-McLean bill came to be passed. It declares that--

Since 1904, bills of this character have been constantly pending in Congress, and from the beginning they made a strong appeal to the imagination of the people throughout the country who are interested in the conservation of our natural wild life. This interest increased each year as the result of the wide publicity given to the measure by this association and other organizations which had to do with bird and game life.

The statement then goes on to tell how the movement was worked up and how the New York Zoological Society became a party to it. Then follows this:

The writer could name some of the members of this association who have individually sent out or caused to be sent from 100 to 200 letters imploring Congressmen to vote for the bill. One of our members, Mr. Henry Ford, of Detroit, became so stirred that he instructed one of his most able and resourceful employees, Mr. Glenn Buck, of Chicago, to spare no expense in an effort to arouse the people to the importance of securing the necessary Congressional support. Mr. Buck sent out thousands of telegrams and letters, and in fact for several weeks employed a large force of stenographers in the enterprise.

The struggle for the passage of this bill will go down in the history of American bird protection as being the most gigantic single campaign ever waged for a bird-protective bill. The full text of this new Federal law is given below.

Now we begin to understand, with the millions of the Ford Automobile Co. embarked in this enterprise, with orders from Mr. Ford to spare no expense, and with the statement that thousands of letters and telegrams were sent out from that one point, why it is that so many of our Senators have been receiving these communications, and the light begins to dawn, we begin to know, that instead of this propaganda being a spontaneous movement, it was manufactured from the first. A little more of that later on.

Now Mr. President, connected with this movement is not only the zoological society referred to, of which Mr. Hornaday is an important member, but also the Audubon Society. The latter has an enormous membership--I do not know how many--and a large war fund. I read in this book the following:

Five Dollars annually pays for a sustaining membership.
One hundred dollars paid at one time constitutes a life membership.
One thousand dollars constitutes a person a patron.
Five thousand dollars constitutes a person a founder.
Twenty-five thousand dollars constitutes a person a benefactor.

You will observe that it costs a heap of money to be regarded as a "benefactor" by those who constitute this organization. The activities of the society appear to have been about along the line of the Sugar Trust, the Steel Trust, and other concerns that have been engaged in promoting legislation.

In the January number of this interesting publication, at page 72, will be found this statement:


Just glance for a moment at what was accomplished by the association with the $10,000 contributed to the egret protective fund last year.

First. The passage of the Pennsylvania antiplumage law, which put an end to the business of the great wholesale feather dealers whose American headquarters were located in Philadelphia.

Second. The passage of laws preventing the sale of egrets also in the States of Michigan and Vermont.

Third. The employment of field agents to locate colonies of breeding egrets in the Southern States.

Fourth. The employment of a force of 18 wardens, who so successfully guarded the 8,000 egrets in these rookeries that throughout the nesting season not over 12 of the protected birds are believed to have been killed by plume hunters.

Fifth. Secured a hearing before the Ways and Means Committee of Congress, and later, with the cooperation of the New York Zoological Society, conducted a campaign of publicity and personal appeal, which finally resulted in the passage of the Federal plumage law, prohibiting the importation of feathers of wild birds to America.

Then a few words of comment and comes this:

The association must have at least $10,000 at the earliest possible moment for egret protection work the coming year.

Mr. President, this society does not appear to be altogether an eleemosynary institution. It deals in large sums of money and in some transactions which may require investigation. I notice, for instance, that it has on hand investments in its endowment fund to the amount of $378,286.57. I notice further that they have in their schedule of expenses this interesting item:


New England legislation, $953.52
Massachusetts campaign, $741.06
Expenses South Carolina, California, and elsewhere, $806.54.

A total of $2,501.12 expended in legislation.

But that does not include the egret legislation and does not include the expenses incurred in getting the McLean bill enacted into law. I find disbursements as follows:

From the egret fund, $8,409.47.

There was a total disbursement last year of $82,347.

The egret fund ran to some $10,000. The campaign was systematically conducted by a lobby that was as thoroughly greased as any recently infesting Congress.

Here is an interesting article that tells us how some Senators and Representatives were seduced into amending the tariff bill;

The paragraph in Schedule N of the tariff bill, which plans to prohibit the importation of feathers and birds, etc., did not fare well at the hands of the Senate Finance Committee.

I shall not read it all, but the article states that--
The subcommittee, after having evidently reached a conclusion on the matter, reluctantly granted the friends of the bird a hearing.

"The friends of the bird." I want to emphasize that, because one of these friends of the birds I intend to address myself to in a few moments.

Mr. President, all through this literature appears the fact that there was a systematic movement along the ordinary lines of the lobby--the same kind of lobbying methods employed by the wool, sugar, steel, and other lobbies; the same means were employed to convince Senators and Representatives that there was a tremendous uprising, and with the same result which has frequently been accomplished by the concerns referred to.

Now, Mr. President, every man who has dared to consider these questions from the standpoint of the Constitution or from the standpoint of economics has been berated and accused of being the enemy of all bird life.

I insist that the true friend of bird life is the man who undertakes to secure the enactment of laws that can be enforced and not the man who demands the enactment of laws, or alleged laws, which will ultimately be stricken down, because all the time consumed in the passage of invalid laws and in testing such invalid laws is ultimately lost.

Speaking for myself, I have always been a friend of proper game preservation and conservation statutes. I have favored such legislation in my State, and I have always sought to encourage it. The States have the Constitutional right to protect the game within their own borders, and every step taken in that direction by the States results in good; but if we abandon State legislation and undertake national legislation, and the national legislation is without life or vitality or force--is, indeed, born dead--then we have lost all the time consumed in the enactment of such legislation.

Mr. President, until recently I was not aware that if a man saw fit to insist that in his opinion those who were seeking the protection of game were traveling along the wrong road, he therefore ought to be denounced as a cruel and inhuman monster who desired to exterminate the songster of the field and the musician of the woods. Neither was I aware of the fact, until I began an investigation, how much arrant hypocrisy there is back of some people connected with this movement, not all of them by any means, but by some.

One of the New York newspapers saw fit to spend some of its valuable editorial space in lampooning those who had dared to utter their honest sentiments on this question. I do not intend to call the name of the individual, but the editor of one of those papers has had an interesting sort of game experience, which ought to qualify him somewhat as an expert. On June 14, 1904, he was charged with killing antelope in one of the Western States contrary to the laws of that State. He pleaded not guilty. He withdrew his plea on the 28th and pleaded guilty, and was fined $500.

On August 19, he was charged with killing mountain sheep out of season. He plead not guilty. He secured various continuances, and on November 28 entered a plea of guilty, and was fined $500 more.

It really seems to me that a man who has so little respect for the game laws of a State that are valid and are binding that he is willing to pay a thousand dollars for the privilege of violating them ought not to very harshly criticize those who merely insist that a law believed to be unconstitutional ought to be tested in the courts before large sums of money are appropriated for the purpose of enforcing it.

Nor do I think it is quite in keeping with the harmonies of this occasion that everybody should be abused as the enemy of wild life who has insisted upon following the provisions of the Constitution of the United States, nor that the men who stand upon those provisions and assert their rights should be held up to the country as traitors to the Government.

Game associations of my State and adjoining States, composed of some of the best citizens of those States, men who have spent large sums of money in seeking to protect game, believing this law to be unconstitutional and a failure, said so, whereupon they were denounced as guilty of treasonable practices by one William T. Hornaday. That gentleman constitutes himself the chief apostle of mercy and kindliness. He denounces every man who shoots a duck as a pothunter, and holds him up before the country as a merciless wretch who seeks to inflict pain and misery upon wild animals. One would think, as he reads the fulminations of this gentleman, that his heart overflows with pity, that in his tender hands is held a chalice filled with tears of agony wrung from his sympathetic eyes by the suffering of dumb brutes; one would imagine that all his life Brother Hornaday had guarded birds' nests; that he had watched to see that no hand of violence was laid upon any dumb animal, particularly if that animal was a wild animal; one would believe that his finger never pulled the trigger that sent a deadly missile into the body of a living thing. Dr. Hornaday is, as has been suggested to me by the Senator from Oklahoma, the self-appointed universal game warden; he is the archangel of mercy; he is the prototype of all that is tender and sweet and gentle and lovely.

But long ago it was said, "Oh, that my enemy would write a book," and Brother Hornaday has been engaged in the book business.

I desire to call attention to the fact that, if his heart is now tender and his soul is now shocked at the sight of a dead bird; if he has come to believe that those who occasionally shoot game are monsters engaged in the service of the devil and devoting their lives to acts of atrocity--if that is his present opinion--then, Mr. President, he has undergone a regeneration that has never been equaled since St. Paul saw the light that transformed him from pagan into a Christian. This book that I am calling attention to, and now advertising, is entitled "Two Years In The Jungle," by Hornaday. It is dedicated, as a book of its kind never should be dedicated, "To my good wife, Josephine." It is the bloodiest record in all the annals of time; every page of it drips with gore.

It reads like the diary of the foreman of a slaughterhouse. As one peruses its pages, he can see the ghostly procession of slaughtered animals marching toward untimely graves; he can hear the sharp crack of Hornaday's rifle; he can distinguish Hornaday's shout of triumph as it mingles with the death groans of the slaughtered. According to Hornaday, he has killed everything that walks on two feet, except men, and he has come mighty near killing them. He has even descended to the ignoble business of robbing birds' nests.

He did all this not for love of sport, but he had embarked in the business of killing and skinning as a means of livelihood; by which, I understand, he became a sort of "Hessian pot-hunter." He claims to have been actuated by interest of science; but, as I shall show you, the dominant motive in his heart, the inspiring sentiment that sent him out through swamps and morasses, and led him to expose his body to the fatigue of the march and to the ravishment of disease, was a pure unadulterated lust for blood and money. Out of his own mouth, or his own book, which is very much the same thing, not out of mine, let him be condemned.

I begin with the smaller matters, Mr. President--birds--because if there is anything that shocks this sensitive soul it is to learn that a duck has been shot, unless he shot it. On page 75 of this interesting book, I find this:

Carlo and I fell to work on our specimens and before night the "bag" received an addition of one saras crane, three spoonbills, three black-backed geese, shot by my friend.

On page 76, I find this:

At the end of seven days' shooting we had accounted for 15 gazelle and one nil-gal, not counting smaller specimens; and sending my lot of skins and skeletons across country by bullock cart, I returned to Etawah by rail.

Why, this man killed animals and birds by the wagonload. He was not a "pothunter," he was a "wagonload hunter." He had to take a team of bulls around with him to haul the carcasses of the slaughtered. On page 379, I find this:

My native hunters brought me many fine specimens of mammals, a few large birds, many reptiles, and a few fishes. The most successful of all my collectors was a fine Dyak named Dundang, already spoken of, who shot four orangs, several rhinoceros hornbills, two or three proboscis monkeys, a wild hog, and quite a number of smaller mammals.

On page 380, I find this--and this man shot birds too:

One day a party of Dyaks arrived from the head of the Sibuyau River, between the Sadong and Batang Lupar, bringing several fragmentary skins of argus pheasant, which had been taken off in native fashion for the wing and tail feathers, and also a live argus.

You may possibly imagine the heart of the man who so loves the egret must have ached, but I find no lamentations recorded here. On the other hand, he was glad to get them. But I proceed. I shall now quote from page 413--I am now confining myself as nearly as I can to birds:

I sent Perara--

That is, a native--

at work shooting and skinning birds while I devoted my attention to mammals in particular, and everything else in general.

Anything; all was fish that came to his net; all was game that came within his range. Truly he was and is a tender-hearted, loving, kindly soul.

I encouraged the Dyaks to set snares for animals of all kinds.

This man denounces the pothunter. It is a mighty mean man who will shoot a bird that is not on the wing; it is a contemptible thing to sneak up on a bird and assassinate it from behind; but a fellow who will set a snare to catch unwary wild animals that harm nobody has sunk to a point so low that a real sportsman could not see him with a microscope that magnifies a million diameters. A man who sends out a lot of barbarians to snare game for him and afterwards sets himself up not only as a sportsman but as a regulator of sportsmen is in a class by himself. He certainly could take first prize in a contest of impudence.

I shall not read more in regard to birds, because, really, they are an unimportant subject compared with others, but at pages 417, 420, 421, and 430--indeed, throughout the book--you will find rhapsodical accounts of the slaughter and skinning of birds.

At pages 61 and 62, you will find where he let himself down the side of a cliff with a rope in order that he might rob birds' nests of their eggs. At page 430 you will find this statement:

It is so far my policy to shun small things that I do not even pretend to shoot and skin small birds.

Since then the learned author has evidently experienced a wonderful change of heart. "Not even a sparrow can now fall without his notice."

He was looking at something bigger at that time, but now he is undertaking to regulate every farm boy in the United States and to say that he shall not take a shot at a blue jay without being haled before a Federal judge. His viewpoint has vastly changed.

But I pass from that and come to acts of atrocity that are so indescribably inhuman that they shock even my hardened heart. In this book, at page 414, he describes the killing of gibbons, a species of monkey or ape which is so near the human that a man can not look at one through the bars of a cage without pitying it in its captivity. I want to read a choice bit or two from page 414:

We hunted far and wide over the hills, saw a great number of mias--
That is the local name for orang-outang--
nests, but no mias. But we at last became absorbed in trying to kill a gibbon, and it soon developed into genuine sport.

Let no one rise and say that this man was suppressing his natural sentiments and killing because of his devotion to science; let all men understand that it was the lust of murder, if you can apply the term "murder" to the killing of a thing that is so nearly human that it is difficult to draw the line between some races of the human family and these highly developed apes. I continue to read:

About the only real sport I have yet had in Borneo, and this is about the character of it:

You are going along, we will say, at the heels of your Dyak guide, carrying your rifle in the hope of a shot at big game, while the guide carries your double-barreled gun. All at once you hear a slight vocal sound and a profound rustling in the thick branches at the top of a tall tree, directly over your head.

"Apa ini?" (what's that?) you ask in a whisper.

"Wah-wah, tuan." (Gibbons, sir), says the guide in the same tone.

You take the double barrel, loaded with No. 1 shot, and peer anxiously upward to catch sight of the animal. Ah, there he is, on the other side of the tree, and evidently making off. You can not see his body on account of the leaves--

The doctor then states how he shoots at the gibbon; I can not encumber the Record with all the recital. He tells how the little thing, by its marvelous agility and its wonderful intelligence, escapes, and how he pursues it--

After a hundred and fifty yards, good measure, you stop short, cock your gun, and glare wildly upward to catch sight of your prey as quickly as possible. In three seconds your greedy eyes have scanned every tree top within gunshot, and at last you see some branches shaking a hundred yards away on the opposite side of a deep ravine.

And again the little animal escapes. This man was not hunting for science; he was hunting because he wanted to kill things. A little farther on he says:

But all the same, you pronounce it genuine sport and acknowledge that you have met your match.
* * * *

To hunt them is the most exciting work I have done for some time, violent exercise to be sure, but good to improve one's wind.

Which leads me to remark that it may have been at this interesting period of his life the doctor developed his ability to stand interviews and denounce game associations.

Mr. President, I want to call the attention of those who love mercy, who feel that men who go out and occasionally hunt are brutal in their instincts, to this description of the slaughter of a gibbon. I read from the good doctor's diary--

November 3. A good score today. Just after I had finished measuring the mias killed yesterday--

That is the orang-outang killed--

and was preparing to set out for the usual morning's hunt, a troop of gibbons began whistling--their cry sounds like whistling, and is easily imitated--in the jungle close by, in fact, within a hundred yards of the house. Le Tiac and I were after them in less than a minute. It so happened that several paths had been cut through the jungle just where the gibbons were, and, by their help, we were soon close to our prey. We saw one or two of them swinging off in the distance, and at last I caught sight of a fine large one, feeding quietly on leaves, within gunshot.

They did not know he was there, so he assassinated them.

I fired both barrels to make sure of a kill and in a minute or so, as I was walking under the tree to see where my wah-wah--

That is, the gibbon--

was, down it came with a heavy thud within 2 feet of me. A little more and it would have fallen on my head.

To my surprise it was immediately followed by another, a young one this time, which fell flat on its face on the soft earth a yard farther off. We picked it up and found it was very much alive, having only a wound in the neck, and Le Tiac held it while I reloaded and looked for others. The little one set up a terrible cry and kept it up steadily, which created a great commotion amongst the other wah-wahs. They were all running away, but on hearing the cries of the little one two came back and came as near as they dared, but kept so well concealed that I could not get a shot.

Think of killing an animal that was near enough the standard of man so that it would come back at the risk of its life to rescue its wounded companion. Let me read on. This humanitarian writes:

Then we carried the little one about and let it cry while we ourselves kept very still. It was perhaps a mean thing to do--

I remark that in this one instance this gentleman told the truth; but he might have used the term "diabolical" instead of "mean"--

but in collecting necessity knows no law. Every wild animal must die some time, and gibbons are too valuable and hard to get for us to let one go through sympathy. Under all other circumstances these animals are exceedingly timid and flee at the slightest alarm; but this time two of them returned in response to the cries of one of their children in distress. It was a mean thing to do, I know, but when at last, I got a fair shot at a large wah-wah of the rescuing party, I disabled him so that he could not get away. He climbed to the topmost branches of the tree he was in, which was about 90 feet high, and I fired at him from below. I was surprised at the shooting it took to collect him--

That is to kill him.

Altogether, I fired seven shots with my No. 10 gun, loaded with 4 drams of powder and 2 ounces of No. 1 shot, before he fell, and, to my still greater surprise, I found on examining the body, only one bone broken--a tibia. I expected to find the leg and arm bones mostly smashed to bits. The specimen was a large male, and met its death solely on account of its paternal affection, sympathy, and genuine courage in the face of danger.

Mr. President, I am not going to denounce Dr. Hornaday for this, but I am going to insist that a man who has been bathed in blood and who has allowed a wounded child even of the monkey tribe to continue its cries in order to decoy in the older ones of the tribe, so that in coming to its rescue they would come to their death--that such a man ought to cease prating about the protection of game or lecturing others upon the subject of cruelty.

Mr. President, in this book there is the recitation of the killing of innumerable monkeys. He hunted them; he gloated over his ability to kill them; he chuckled every time one died--a fine specimen to be leading the Audubon Society, marching with the gospel of mercy in one hand and the skulls and skins of a thousand monkeys in the other.

But, Mr. President, the dear doctor's appetite for blood was not yet satiated. He had killed a tiger--so he says; he had shot some elephants from ambush. I say nothing about that, but I want to call your attention to his slaughter of orang-outangs.

Mr. President, what is an orang-outang? Mr. Darwin, who is almost as high an authority as Dr. Hornaday, states that--

The orang, chimpanzee, and gorilla come very close to man in their organization, much nearer than to any other animal. * * * Both show in all their organs so close an affinity--

That is, man and the chimpanzee and orang--

that the most exact anatomical investigation is needed in order to demonstrate those differences which really exist. So it is with the brains. The brains of man, the orang, the chimpanzee, the gorilla, in spite of all of the important differences which they present, come very close to one another. * * *

Again, as respects the question of absolute size, it is established that the difference between the largest and smallest healthy human brain is greater than the difference between the smallest healthy human brain and the largest chimpanzee's or orang's brain.

These animals are to a large extent subject to the same diseases as human beings; they contract tuberculosis from human beings; they are subject to many of the same fevers, and generally to the whole range of diseases which affect man; and they respond to the same medicines that human beings respond to. They have substantially every muscle and every nerve that the human being has. The question of whether they have a language by which they communicate with each other is one that is under dispute. People who live with them and know something of them regard them as at least "near human." I read now the evidence of Mr. Hornaday himself.

At page 350 he states:

In his own country this animal is universally called the "mias," although he is occasionally referred to by the Malays as an "orang-utan," which means, literally, jungle-man, from "orang" man, and "utan" jungle.

One would think the gentleman who wrote that would have hesitated about starting out to kill these creatures, but the very next statement is:

They, the native barbarians, assured me there were "mias somewhere in the jungle," but they could not tell me where to seek them. They thought I might kill at least one every week, which was quite encouraging, and I thought I would be satisfied with as good luck as that would be. I gave powder and lead to such of the Dyaks and Malays as were willing to hunt orangs for me, and started them out.

Now let us see what he did after he had started them out. At page 360, he tells us about the murder of one of these "jungle men," for that is the term the natives apply to them:

Presently we saw a big, hairy arm clasping the trunk of the tree about 50 feet from the ground, but that was all. The boat was stopped directly, and, as we could do not better, I stood up and sent a bullet through the arm that was exposed, to stir the old fellow up.

Oh, mercy, mercy, truly thy home is in the heart of Hornaday!

It startled him, for, with an angry growl, he immediately showed himself and started to climb away. As soon as we saw his body, I fired again, which caused him to stop short for a moment.

Then the kindly doctor proceeds to tell how he shot this poor animal several times, and gives this description:

I immediately fired for his breast, whereupon he struggled violently for a moment, then made off in frantic haste, climbing along a straight horizontal branch by the aid of his hands alone, swinging along as a gymnast swings underneath a tight rope. He reached fully 5 feet at every stretch.

Presently he stopped short, and let go with one hand, which dropped heavily at his side and came below his knee. For three minutes he hung there facing us, holding by one hand only. How huge and hairy he looked, outlined against the sky! Presently his hand slipped; his hold gave way entirely.

How much this sounds like the description of a dying man--

and with outstretched arms and legs he came crashing heavily down through the branches and fell into the water near us with a tremendous splash. He struggled up and turned savagely at bay, grasping the trunk of a sapling to hold himself erect. The Malays rushed at him with their parongs, and one gave him a fierce slash in the neck while I was shouting to them to desist. They were as yet wholly untrained and would have ruined the skin in a moment. The old mias flung his long arms about, gasped, and struggled violently, then quietly settled down in the water, and in another moment was dead. Then we towed him along back to the boat, lifted him with considerable difficulty, and began to examine our prize.

Truly, he was a prize. His back was as broad and his chest as deep as a prize fighter's, while his huge hands and feet seemed made with but one end in view--to grasp and hold on. His arms were remarkably long and sinewy, but his legs were disproportionately short and thick--

And so forth.

Mr. President, one would imagine that a human being engaged in killing a creature so near his own kind would experience some pang of sorrow or some feeling of grief; but the description of the death is as cold-blooded as a Borgia would have written of the poisoning of one of his enemies.

I read from page 363:

Three orang-outangs in one day! The men hurrahed loud and long; and I believe I must have indulged in a little shout on my own account.

How it thrilled the soul of this sensitive man! Three creatures, so closely allied to the human family that some believe them human, slaughtered in a day; and over their dead bodies this tender-hearted lover of wild life indulges in cheers! The Audubon Society ought to get another partner.

Mr. President, the waylaying of gibbons coming to the rescue of the wounded young, and the slaughter of those possessing the heroism so to come, may have been a very sportsmanlike and a very humane performance, but it does not rise to the dignity of the incident to which I am about to call attention.

At page 367 of this gory recital will be found a story that would shock the finer sensibilities of a first-class orthodox devil. The kind doctor gives an account of the killing of a number of these creatures and then tells this story:

Three miles farther on I espied a baby orang up in a treetop, hanging to the small limbs with outstretched arms and legs, looking like a big, red spider. It gazed down at us in stupid, childish wonder--

What would a human being have done--an ordinary human being; not one of these superlative people; not one of these leaders in the intellectual and moral uplift, but just an ordinary human being--when he saw that baby looking down with its stupid, childish eyes in wonderment and fear? It seems to me the ordinary pothunter would lower the muzzle of his gun. Not so Mr. Hornaday:

I was just aiming for it, when Mr. Eng Quee called my attention to the mother of the infant, who was concealed in the top of the same tree.

There they were, mother and child, so near like the human that even this man, as I shall show you a little later on, almost classifies them as members of the human family. If there is anything that appeals to the stony heart of man and melts it into kindliness, it is the sight of a mother seeking to protect her babe. But what did Mr. Hornaday do? He fired at the mother.

As soon as I fired at her she climbed with all haste up to her little one--

She would not abandon her babe in the face of death. Like all the mothers of all time, the life of her infant was more dear to her than her own life; and so this mother, in the face of impending death, went to the rescue of her babe.

Did this gentleman stop then--this tender-hearted apostle of sympathy?

As soon as I fired at her she climbed with all haste up to her little one, which quickly clasped her round the body--

Ah, you good mothers who are furnishing money for Mr. Hornaday, what would you have done if your babe had been in danger? And what would your babe have done except that which this little orang did when it reached out and put its arms around its mother?

Which quickly clasped her round the body, holding on by grasping her hair, and with the little one clinging to her the mother started to climb rapidly away.

Oh, why did you not let her go, Hornaday? The mother fleeing with her infant, with fear in her heart, but the love of a mother dominant above the fear. Why did you not let her go? Why did you not lower your gun then, you lover of kindliness?

Fortunately we were able to get the boat in amongst the trees without much trouble, and all immediately went overboard. We had scarcely done so when a third orang, a young male, about 2 years old, was discovered looking down from a nest overhead, which he immediately left and started to follow the old mother--

You see, this old mother had a family.

As he went swinging along underneath a limb, with his body well drawn up, I gave him a shot which dropped him instantly, and then we turned our attention to the female--

They had slaughtered the young son of the family now, and still the old mother and the baby were to be hunted down--

She was resting on a couple of branches, badly wounded--

But she had not left her baby yet; the baby was still clinging to her.

She was resting on a couple of branches, badly wounded, with her baby still clinging to her body in great fright. Seeing that she was not likely to die for some minutes, I gave her another shot * * * and then she came crashing down through the top of the small trees and fell into the water, which was waist deep.

We sprang to secure the baby--

And they captured it.

Then he recites in this book what they did with this mother orang-outang and what they did with the baby, and here is what they did. He tells it at page 369, the next page. They killed three of these semi-human beings that day, and then this statement is found:

Mr. Eng Quee placed a table for me and there I skinned the orangs and received deputations of natives who came bearing specimens, or wanting gunpowder. The ground under the house was hard, dry, and clean, and my motley crew of assistants retired under the floor with their work. Mr. Eng Quee quite enjoyed the novelty of orang skinning, and quickly became an expert hand at the business.

You see, they skinned so many that an amateur could develop into an expert.

Mr. President, some people will say this was in the interest of science, the love of learning, the pursuit of a highly intellectual occupation which probably harrowed the soul of this tender creature, Hornaday. But behold, he exposes his heart to us. He lays bare his soul. He describes his sentiments. He pictures for us the thrill that went through him as his knife cut the skin of these almost human creatures. At page 370, he says:

Two hours later, the little baby orang relieved me of all anxiety on its account by dying. * * * This made seven dead orangs, big and little, to skin and skeletonize in one day!

Would not one creature have done in the interest of science? If you had to go out and murder something that was almost human, could you not be satisfied with one or two? No! Seven. And could you not have skinned them, if you must skin them, with a sickening sensation in your stomach? Not so Hornaday.

This made seven dead orangs, big and little, to skin and skeletonize in one day!

The mother, and her babe, and her eldest born, and four others.

I had adult specimens of both species, male and female, and two young ones; and by a happy coincidence, the Chinese, Dyaks and Malays had almost made a dead heat in the race after specimens.

Now, listen, and let no man hereafter say that this man did with reluctance these acts in the interest of science. Let him rather attribute it to a thirst for blood, a love of cruelty, and a monstrous disposition which found joy in tearing the skin from that quivering flesh. Here are his own words:

There are many good people who are at a loss to understand how a naturalist "can bear to skin and cut up dead animals," no matter how rare and interesting they are. Many wonder how he can have "an appetite to eat," and cry out in holy horror at sight of the raw flesh under his knife. Well tastes differ; that's all. As for myself, I would not have exchanged the pleasures of that day, when we had those seven orangs to dissect, for a box at the opera the whole season through.

Truly, tastes differ. Truly, there are people in this world who would rather sit at the opera and observe the wonderful portrayal of human emotions, listen to the melody of music, and see the matchless mimicry of the actor--truly, there are some who would prefer that to the slaughter of mother orang-outangs with their babes upon the breast, or even to the delectable and high-toned occupation of skinning them afterwards. This man is reading lectures to the people of the United States on questions of morality and humanity.

And now I get a little key to his delight. Surely it is found in this sentence of the same account:

It was the most valuable day's work, I ever did, for the specimens we preserved were worth, unmounted, not less than $800.

Now you know the mainspring of his delight--the source of his almost divine elation. It lay in the fact that he had made $800 that day killing seven of these poor creatures, including the slaughter of the poor mother as she went to the defense of her babe.

I trust the women of this country who are supporting this society and kindred societies will hereafter employ people who have the right to take the name of mercy on their lips without defiling the holy word.

Now, Mr. President, what was the doctor's viewpoint? If he believed these creatures were merely animals--if he thought them but dumb brutes, beasts utterly dissimilar to the human family--we might in charity excuse his cruelty upon the plea that he did not appreciate the enormity of his deeds. But what was his viewpoint? I shall not take the time to read it, but I shall put into the RECORD the citations to the pages where he describes a baby orang he had in captivity. He states that it so resembled a human that he called it "the old man." He describes how it played about his feet; how it nestled in his arms; how it ate at his table; how it insisted upon sleeping on his bed with him at night; how it followed him about and clung to his garments; how it looked at him with human eyes; how it played with its toes as a baby plays with its toes; and yet after that he went on killing these creatures. See pages 417, 419, 428, 429.

But his own opinion as to what they are and how nearly human they are is found on page 407. Let me read it:

We will not say anything about the place the orang has in the long chain of evolution; but, while abstract argument leads hither and thither, according as this or that writer is most ably gifted for the same, there is still one argument or influence to which every true naturalist is amenable, and which no one will ignore who has studied, from nature, any group of typical forms. Let such a one (if, indeed, one exists today), who is prejudiced against the Darwinian views, go to Borneo. Let him there watch from day to day this strangely human form in all its various phases of existence. Let him see the orang climb, walk, build its nest, eat, drink and fight like a human rough. Let him see the female suckle her young and carry it astride her hip, precisely as do the coolie women of Hindustan. Let him witness their human-like emotions of affection, satisfaction, pain and rage--let him see all this, and then he may feel how much more potent has been this lesson than all he has read in pages of abstract ratiocination.

Why, he declares them almost human. He indorses the thought of Darwin, which some of us do not, that they are the progenitors of our race, and yet having such an opinion he continued the slaughter of these creatures. Finally, having murdered, I do not know how many, because every page for many pages records the death of one or more, we find that he did not even stop with killing the animal that was born. At page 403, he tells us something else:

The size of the young of the orang at birth is quite remarkable, considering the small stature of the adult female. My twenty-eighth specimen was a gravid female 3 feet 8 3/4 inches in height, carrying a fetus which weighed 7 pounds 3 ounces and was, of course, fully developed.

Thus it appears that our humane friend indulged also in the crime of infanticide, if we can apply that to the slaughtering of creatures of this kind.

Mr. President, I am willing to be taught the lessons of mercy. I am willing to be taught by every man who wants to protect the beasts of the field and the fowls of the air and the fishes of the sea, whose heart goes out in kindly sympathy for the dumb animal that can not defend itself. But I am not willing to go to school to Mr. Hornaday, and I am not willing that the funds he collects and spends shall be used to effect legislation in this body.

I called attention to the ineffable delight the doctor manifested when he made $800 in one day in killing orang-outangs and to the thought that probably it was the $800 more than the advance of science that so thrilled his gentle soul. But I notice another statement which may furnish a further incentive and reason for his recent activities. In the New York Times of May 14, 1914, there is an editorial soundly criticizing those who dared to differ from Dr. Hornaday and paying its compliments to myself because I referred to this gentleman as either insane or a common slanderer or a common scoundrel; and the writer states:

Senator Reed's feelings will not be assuaged at learning that Mrs. Russell Sage sent yesterday to Dr. Hornaday her check for $10,000 as a subscription to the permanent wild life protection fund that he has been raising "for use on the firing line."

And, as is explained in the other literature, "for use on the firing line" is to fire influence into Congress here.

That makes the subscription to the fund $25,000. Dr. Hornaday is out after $25,000 more, and he is pretty sure to get it.

Says this writer. Well I can understand how a man who finds more delight in counting the carcasses of dead orangs out in the forest, in stretching them upon his table, in whetting his skinning knife, in plunging the knife into the bodies of the almost human creatures, than he would have in the possession of a box at the opera for an entire season, and who gives us the key to his delight by the statement that the carcasses were worth $800, should grow exceedingly enthusiastic, exceedingly tender-hearted, exceedingly interested in the wild life of the country, if he were to have a $50,000 fund placed in his hands.

I say this to the good people who desire to protect game life, that I, in common with all the Members of the Senate, stand ready to further every honest and proper effort to protect our game, the little birds of the field, as well as the game birds, and that we will join in all proper efforts in that behalf. But I beg the mothers of this land, before they appoint as their agent and representative a man to look after the sparrows and the meadow larks and the bobolinks, to inquire whether that man wants money or his heart is in his work; and when they seek to determine whether he is really an evangel of mercy, to inquire whether he is the same man that shot mother orang-outangs as they went to the rescue of their babes, who tore from the womb of mother orang-outangs the fetus that he might gloat over it, and preferred the skinning of orang-outangs to a box at the opera.

It is conceivable that Benedict Arnold might have indited a dissertation upon patriotism; that Lucretia Borgia might have uttered a peon to mercy; that Judas, with the money of betrayal in one hand and a rope with which to hang himself in the other, might have the impudence to deliver a lecture upon fidelity; but it is hardly conceivable that a man, who had written a book portraying his delight as he slaughtered these creatures that are so close to the human family that naturalists have difficulty in drawing the line of demarcation, should be made the recipient of donations of those who desire to protect birds and animals.

Mr. President, I proceed no further lest I might be justly accused of having imitated the practices of Dr. Hornaday.

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