In the year 1866 David Livingstone, the great African explorer and
missionary, started on his last journey to Africa. Three years passed
away during which no word or sign from him had reached his friends. The
whole civilized world became alarmed for his safety. It was feared that
his interest in the savages in the interior of Africa had cost him his
life.
Newspapers and clergymen in many lands were clamoring for a relief
expedition to be sent out in search of him. Royal societies, scientific
associations, and the British government were debating what steps
should be taken to find him. But they were very slow in coming to any
conclusion, and while they were weighing questions and discussing
measures, an energetic American settled the matter offhand.
This was James Gordon Bennett, Jr., manager of the New York Herald and
son of James Gordon Bennett, its editor and proprietor.
Mr. Bennett was in a position which brought him into contact with some
of the cleverest and most enterprising young men of his day. From all
those he knew he singled out Henry M. Stanley for the difficult and
perilous task of finding Livingstone.
And who was this young man who was chosen to undertake a work which
required the highest qualities of manhood to carry it to success?
Henry M. Stanley, whose baptismal name was John Rowlands, was born of
poor parents in Wales, in 1840. Being left an orphan at the age of
three, he was sent to the poorhouse in his native place. There he
remained for ten years, and then shipped as a cabin boy in a vessel
bound for America. Soon after his arrival in this country, he found
employment in New Orleans with a merchant named Stanley. His
intelligence, energy, and ambition won him so much favor with this
gentleman that he adopted him as his son and gave him his name.
The elder Stanley died while Henry was still a youth. This threw him
again upon his own resources, as he inherited nothing from his adopted
father, who died without making a will. He next went to California to
seek his fortune. He was not successful, however, and at twenty he was
a soldier in the Civil War. When the war was over, he engaged himself
as a correspondent to the New York Herald.
In this capacity he traveled extensively in the East, doing brilliant
work for his paper. When England went to war with King Theodore of
Abyssinia, he accompanied the English army to Abyssinia, and from
thence wrote vivid descriptive letters to the Herald. The child whose
early advantages were only such as a Welsh poorhouse afforded, was
already, through his own unaided efforts, a leader in his profession.
He was soon to become a leader in a larger sense.
At the time Mr. Bennett conceived the idea of sending an expedition in
search of Livingstone, Stanley was in Spain. He had been sent there by
the Herald to report the civil war then raging in that country. He thus
describes the receipt of Mr. Bennett's message and the events
immediately following:--
"I am in Madrid, fresh from the carnage at Valencia. At 10 A.M. Jacopo,
at No.--Calle de la Cruz, hands me a telegram; on opening it I find it
reads, 'Come to Paris on important business.' The telegram is from
James Gordon Bennett, Jr., the young manager of the New York Herald.
"Down come my pictures from the walls of my apartments on the second
floor; into my trunks go my books and souvenirs, my clothes are hastily
collected, some half washed, some from the clothesline half dry, and
after a couple of hours of hasty hard work my portmanteaus are strapped
up and labeled for 'Paris.'"
It was late at night when Stanley arrived in Paris. "I went straight to
the 'Grand Hotel,'" he says, "and knocked at the door of Mr. Bennett's
room.
"'Come in,' I heard a voice say. Entering I found Mr. Bennett in bed.
"'Who are you?' he asked.
"'My name is Stanley,' I answered.
"'Ah, yes! sit down; I have important business on hand for you.
"'Where do you think Livingstone is?'
"'I really do not know, sir.'
"'Do you think he is alive?'
"'He may be, and he may not be,' I answered.
"'Well, I think he is alive, and that he can be found, and I am going
to send you to find him.'
"'What!' said I, 'do you really think I can find Dr. Livingstone? Do
you mean me to go to Central Africa?'
"'Yes, I mean that you shall go and find him wherever you may hear that
he is.... Of course you will act according to your own plans and do
what you think best--BUT FIND LIVINGSTONE.'"
The question of expense coming up, Mr. Bennett said: "Draw a thousand
pounds now; and when you have gone through that, draw another thousand;
and when that is spent, draw another thousand; and when you have
finished that, draw another thousand, and so on; but, FIND LIVINGSTONE."
Stanley asked no questions, awaited no further instructions. The two
men parted with a hearty hand clasp. "Good night, and God be with you,"
said Bennett.
"Good night, sir," returned Stanley. "What it is in the power of human
nature to do I will do; and on such an errand as I go upon, God will be
with me."
The young man immediately began the work of preparation for his great
undertaking. This in itself was a task requiring more than ordinary
judgment and foresight, but Stanley was equal to the occasion.
On January 6, 1871, he reached Zanzibar, an important native seaport on
the east coast of Africa. Here the preparations for the journey were
completed. Soon, with a train composed of one hundred and ninety men,
twenty donkeys, and baggage amounting to about six tons, he started
from this point for the interior of the continent.
Then began a journey the dangers and tediousness of which can hardly be
described. Stanley and his men were often obliged to wade through
swamps filled with alligators. Crawling on hands and knees, they forced
their way through miles of tangled jungle, breathing in as they went
the sickening odor of decaying vegetables. They were obliged to be
continually on their guard against elephants, lions, hyenas, and other
wild inhabitants of the jungle. Fierce as these were, however, they
were no more to be dreaded than the savage tribes whom they sometimes
encountered. Whenever they stopped to rest, they were tormented by
flies, white ants, and reptiles, which crawled all over them.
For months they journeyed on under these conditions. The donkeys had
died from drinking impure water, and some of the men had fallen victims
to disease.
It was no wonder that the survivors of the expedition--all but
Stanley--had grown disheartened. Half starved, wasted by sickness and
hardships of all kinds, with bleeding feet and torn clothes, some of
them became mutinous. Stanley's skill as a leader was taxed to the
utmost. Alternately coaxing the faint-hearted and punishing the
insubordinate, he continued to lead them on almost in spite of
themselves.
So far they had heard nothing of Livingstone, nor had they any clew as
to the direction in which they should go. There was no ray of light or
hope to cheer them on their way, yet Stanley never for a moment thought
of giving up the search.
Once, amid the terrors of the jungle, surrounded by savages and wild
animals, with supplies almost exhausted, and the remnant of his
followers in a despairing condition, the young explorer came near being
discouraged.
But he would not give way to any feeling that might lessen his chances
of success, and it was at this crisis he wrote in his journal:--
"No living man shall stop me--only death can prevent me. But death--not
even this; I shall not die--I will not die--I cannot die! Something
tells me I shall find him and--write it larger--FIND HIM, FIND HIM!
Even the words are inspiring."
Soon after this a caravan passed and gave the expedition news which
renewed hope: A white man, old, white haired, and sick, had just
arrived at Ujiji.
Stanley and his followers pushed on until they came in sight of Ujiji.
Then the order was given to "unfurl the flags and load the guns."
Immediately the Stars and Stripes and the flag of Zanzibar were thrown
to the breeze, and the report of fifty guns awakened the echoes. The
noise startled the inhabitants of Ujiji. They came running in the
direction of the sounds, and soon the expedition was surrounded by a
crowd of friendly black men, who cried loudly, "YAMBO, YAMBO, BANA!"
which signifies welcome.
"At this grand moment," says Stanley, "we do not think of the hundreds
of miles we have marched, of the hundreds of hills that we have
ascended and descended, of the many forests we have traversed, of the
jungle and thickets that annoyed us, of the fervid salt plains that
blistered our feet, of the hot suns that scorched us, nor the dangers
and difficulties now happily surmounted.
"At last the sublime hour has arrived!--our dreams, our hopes and
anticipations are now about to be realized! Our hearts and our feelings
are with our eyes, as we peer into the palms and try to make out in
which hut or house lives the white man with the gray beard we heard
about on the Malagarazi."
When the uproar had ceased, a voice was heard saluting the leader of
the expedition in English--"Good morning, sir."
"Startled at hearing this greeting in the midst of such a crowd of
black people," says Stanley, "I turn sharply round in search of the
man, and see him at my side, with the blackest of faces, but animated
and joyous--a man dressed in a long white shirt, with a turban of
American sheeting around his head, and I ask, 'Who the mischief are
you?'
"'I am Susi, the servant of Dr. Livingstone,' said he, smiling, and
showing a gleaming row of teeth.
"'What! Is Dr. Livingstone here?'
"'Yes, sir.'
"'In this village?'
"'Yes, sir.'
"'Are you sure?'
"'Sure, sure, sir. Why, I leave him just now.'
"'Susi, run, and tell the Doctor I am coming.'"
Susi ran like a madman to deliver the message. Stanley and his men
followed more slowly. Soon they were gazing into the eyes of the man
for news of whom the whole civilized world was waiting.
"My heart beat fast," says Stanley, "but I must not let my face betray
my emotions, lest it shall detract from the dignity of a white man
appearing under such extraordinary circumstances."
The young explorer longed to leap and shout for joy, but he controlled
himself, and instead of embracing Livingstone as he would have liked to
do, he grasped his hand, exclaiming, "I thank God, Doctor, that I have
been permitted to see you."
"I feel grateful that I am here to welcome you," was the gentle reply.
All the dangers through which they had passed, all the privations they
had endured were forgotten in the joy of this meeting. Doctor
Livingstone's years of toil and suspense, during which he had heard
nothing from the outside world; Stanley's awful experiences in the
jungle, the fact that both men had almost exhausted their supplies; the
terrors of open and hidden dangers from men and beasts, sickness, hope
deferred, all were, for the moment, pushed out of mind. Later, each
recounted his story to the other.
After a period of rest, the two joined forces and together explored and
made plans for the future. Stanley tried to induce Livingstone to
return with him. But in vain; the great missionary explorer would not
lay down his work. He persevered, literally until death.
At last the hour of parting came. With the greatest reluctance Stanley
gave his men the order, "Right about face." With a silent farewell, a
grasp of the hands, and a look into each other's eyes which said more
than words, the old man and the young man parted forever.
Livingstone's life work was almost done. Stanley was the man on whose
shoulders his mantle was to fall. The great work he had accomplished in
finding Livingstone was the beginning of his career as an African
explorer.
After the death of Livingstone, Stanley determined to take up the
explorer's unfinished work.
In 1874 he left England at the head of an expedition fitted out by the
London Daily Telegraph and the New York Herald, and penetrated into the
very heart of Africa.
He crossed the continent from shore to shore, overcoming on his march
dangers and difficulties compared with which those encountered on his
first journey sank into insignificance. He afterward gave an account of
this expedition in his book entitled, "Darkest Africa."
Stanley had successfully accomplished one of the great works of the
world. He had opened the way for commerce and Christianity into the
vast interior of Africa, which, prior to his discoveries, had been
marked on the map by a blank space, signifying that it was an
unexplored and unknown country.
On his return the successful explorer found himself famous. Princes and
scientific societies vied with one another in honoring him. King Edward
VII of England, who was then Prince of Wales, sent him his personal
congratulations; Humbert, the king of Italy, sent him his portrait; the
khedive of Egypt decorated him with the grand commandership of the
Order of the Medjidie; the Geographical Societies of London, Paris,
Italy, and Marseilles sent him their gold medals; while in Berlin,
Vienna, and many other large European cities, he was elected an
honorary member of their most learned and most distinguished
associations.
What pleased the explorer most of all, though, was the honor paid him
by America. "The government of the United States," he says, "has
crowned my success with its official approval, and the unanimous vote
of thanks passed in both houses of the legislature has made me proud
for life of the expedition and its achievements."
Honored to-day as the greatest explorer of his age, and esteemed alike
for his scholarship and the immense services he has rendered mankind,
Sir Henry Morton Stanley, the once friendless orphan lad whose only
home was a Welsh poorhouse, may well be proud of the career he has
carved out for himself.