CHAPTER XXVII_The autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley, G.C.B.

THOUGHTS FROM NOTE-BOOKS

ON RELIGION

Civil law is not sufficient by itself for mankind. It is for the

protection of men from abuse, and for the punishment of offenders; but

religion teaches just intercourse, unselfishness, self-denial, virtue,

just dealing, love of our fellow-creatures, compassion, kindness,

forbearance, patience, fortitude, lofty indifference to death by

spiritual exaltation. While atheists and heathens would regard only

their own self-advantage, opposing craft to an opponent’s detriment, a

religious man would be persuaded that he could not do so without a sense

of wrong-doing, and would strive to act so as to ensure his own good

opinion and those of other conscientious, just-minded fellow-men.

Religion is my invisible shield against moral evil, against the

corruption of the mind, against the defilement of the soul. As there are

specifics for the preserving of cleanliness of the body, so is religion

for the preservation of the mind; and it protects the intelligence from

becoming encrusted writh layer upon layer of sin.

Religion is an invaluable curb on that inner nature of man, which

longest remains barbarous and uncivilised.

* * * * *

I am not animated by the hope of a heavenly reward, such as has been

promised. It is my reason which tells me that I owe a duty to God as my

Maker, and that is, not to offend Him. The Bible tells me, through its

writers, of certain instructions and certain Laws that those who desire

to please Him should follow and obey. Many of these Laws and

instructions appeal to my own sense as being His due; and therefore I

shall conform to them as closely as my nature will permit. When I

perceive that they are too hard for nature, I will pray for His divine

help to withstand the temptations of nature; for more power of

restraint; for more docile submission to His will; for more

understanding to comprehend what is pleasing to Him, for more

gentleness; for moral strength to combat that which my sense assures me

is evil, and unworthy of one endowed with such attributes as belong to

me, I will keep ever striving to perform acts pleasing to Him, while I

have the power, leaving it to Him to judge whether my endeavours to

abstain from evil, and perform that which was right, have been according

to the intelligence and moral power He entrusted me with. Meantime, I

must keep myself open to conviction, so that whenever it shall be my

good fortune to light upon that which will clearly inform me as to the

exact way to serve and please God, it will be possible for me to

conform; and I must by no means offend Him by negligence in doing that

which I know ought to be done.

ON THE INFLUENCE OF RELIGION

To relate a little of the instances in my life wherein I have been

grateful for the delicate monitions of an inner voice, recalling me, as

it were, to ‘my true self,’ it would be difficult for me to do their

importance justice. I, for one, must not, dare not, say that prayers are

inefficacious. Where I have been earnest, I have been answered.

What have these earnest prayers consisted of, mainly?

I have repeated the Lord’s Prayer a countless number of times; but, I

must confess, my thoughts have often wandered from the purport of the

words. But when I have prayed for light to guide my followers wisely

through perils which beset them, a ray of light has come upon the

perplexed mind, and a clear road to deliverance has been pointed out.

In the conduct of the various expeditions into Africa, prayer for

patience, which bespoke more than an ordinary desire for patience, has

enabled me to view my savage opponents in a humorous light; sometimes,

with infinite compassion for their madness; sometimes, with a belief

that it would be a pity to punish too severely; and, sometimes, with

that contempt which I would bestow upon a pariah dog. Patience has been

granted to me, and I have left them storming madly. Without the prayer

for it, I doubt that I could have endured the flourish of the spears

when they were but half-a-dozen paces off.

When my own people have wilfully misbehaved, after repeated warnings, I

have prayed for that patience which would enable me to regard their

crimes with mercy, and that my memory of their gross wickedness should

be dulled; and, after the prayer, it has appeared to me that their

crimes had lost the atrocity that I had previously detected in them.

When oft-repeated instances of the efficacy of prayer were remembered, I

have marvelled at the mysterious subtleness with which the answer has

been delivered.

‘Lord God, give me my people, and let me lead them in safety to their

homes; then do Thou with me as Thou wilt,’ was my prayer the night

preceding the day the remnant of the Rear-Column was found. True, they

were there, they had not moved since July 17th; but I did not know it.

‘Give my people back to me, O Lord. Remember that we are Thy creatures,

though our erring nature causes us to forget Thee. Visit not our

offences upon our heads, Gracious God!’ And thus that night was passed

in prayer, until the tired body could pray no more. But the next dawn, a

few minutes after the march had begun, my people were restored to me,

with food sufficient to save the perishing souls at the camp.

On all my expeditions, prayer made me stronger, morally and mentally,

than any of my non-praying companions. It did not blind my eyes, or dull

my mind, or close my ears; but, on the contrary, it gave me confidence.

It did more: it gave me joy, and pride, in my work, and lifted me

hopefully over the one thousand five hundred miles of Forest tracks,

eager to face the day’s perils and fatigues. You may know when prayer is

answered, by that glow of content which fills one who has flung his

cause before God, as he rises to his feet. It is the first reward of the

righteous act, the act that ought to have been done. When my

anticipations were not realised to their fulness, what remained was

better than nought; and what is man, that he should quarrel with the

Inevitable?

ON PRAYER

I have evidence, satisfactory to myself, that prayers _are_ granted. By

prayer, the road sought for has become visible, and the danger

immediately lessened, not once or twice or thrice, but repeatedly,

until the cold, unbelieving heart was impressed.

This much I have derived from many a personal experience.

I have forgotten my prayers; my sensibilities have been so deadened by

the sordid scenes around me that my soul was not aroused to feel that

there was a refuge for distress. Worldly thoughts absorbed my attention;

I became a veritable pagan, ever ready, on occasion, to sneer and

express utter disbelief. Finally, I have drawn near a danger, and, in

its immediate presence, I have understood its character better; every

faculty is then brought to bear upon and around it, and a sense of utter

hopelessness takes possession of my mind. There is no cowardice, no

thought of retreat; rescue or no rescue, I must face it.

At first, I believe that it will be possible to confront it, go through

with it, emerge from it safely. What is wanting, but light? Next, I am

reminded that such a scene occurred before, and that prayer relieved me.

Ah! but I have so long refrained from prayer, can I believe that, now,

prayer would be answered? I have forfeited the right to be heard. Have I

not joined the scoffers, and smiled in contempt at such puerile ideas,

and said, ‘Prayers were well enough when we were children, but not now,

when I have lived so long without the sign of a miracle’? And

yet--prayer has saved me.

Civilised society rejoices in the protection afforded to it by strong

armed law. Those in whom faith in God is strong feel the same sense of

security in the deepest wilds. An invisible, Good Influence surrounds

them, to Whom they may appeal in distress, an Influence which inspires

noble thoughts, comfort in grief, and resolution when weakened by

misfortune. I imperfectly understand this myself, but I have faith and

believe. I know that, when I have called, I have been answered,

strengthened, and assisted. I am prone to forgetfulness, and to much

pride; but I cannot forget that, when an accusing thought entered my

soul like a sword, I became penitent and responded. Subduing my

unbelief, I prayed, and obtained a soothing grace which restored to me a

confidence and cheerfulness which was of benefit to myself and others.

ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION

The white man’s child has a more fertile nature than the savage. The two

natures differ as much as the fat-soiled garden near the Metropolis

differs from the soil of the grassy plains in Africa, the only manure of

which has been the ash of scorched grass. The cultivated garden will

grow anything almost to perfection; the African prairie will grow but a

poor crop of hardy maize or millet. Religion acts as a moral gardener,

to weed out, or suppress, evil tendencies, which, like weeds and

nettles, would shoot up spontaneously in the wonderful compost of the

garden, if unwatched. The surroundings of the child’s mind resemble the

fertilising constituents of that garden soil.

The demands, by-laws, necessities, of a feverish, yet idle, Society,

serve to evolve an abortive man, without truth, honesty, usefulness, or

enthusiasm. He has no physical strength, or mental vigour; serious in

nothing, not even in the pursuit of variety or frivolity, not a word he

utters can be believed, by himself or anybody else; for, simplest words

have lost their common meaning, and simplest acts are not to be

described by any phrase required by veracity. Religion inspires the

moral training requisite to crush these noxious fungi of civilised life.

The savage is licensed to kill, to defend his misdeed by simple lying,

to steal, in order to supply his daily wants. The white child kills

character with his tongue, he robs wholesale where the savage robs by

grains.

ON SIR EDWIN ARNOLD’S ‘LIGHT OF THE WORLD’

After reading a few hundred lines of Edwin Arnold’s new poem,[53] ‘The

Light of the World,’ I perceived that he had not hit the right chord. It

is ‘The Light of Asia,’ in a feeble, vapid style; or, to put it more

correctly, it is a Buddhist trying to sing the glories of the

Christian’s Lord. His soul is not in his song, though there are

beautiful passages in it; but it is the tone of an unbeliever. Alas for

this! What a poem he could have written, had he but believed in the

Saviour of the world!

MIND AND SOUL

My own mind, I know, has been derived from God. Its capacity, in this

existence, is measurable. I feel that, up to a certain point, it could

expand, but, beyond that, is madness. It can descend to a certain point

below normal; below that would be ruin. Being measurable, it is just

suited to my limited nature. It is marvellously expansible; it can also

descend to that pin-point and faint glimmer of reason at zero which

guides the brute. The Intangible, Invisible, yet Almighty Intellect

conceived, by knowing, the beginnings of the spacious universe and its

countless myriad of things; the brutes cannot comprehend this, but, to

me, has been given just enough mind to be impressed by the vast and

solemn fact of this immeasurable knowledge. As my mind governs me, and

all that belongs to me, in the same manner I conceive that every

movement of the universe and its myriad of constituents is subject to

some Divine Mind. This Divine Mind is the power of a Personal Spirit

which is God, Who has endowed humanity with the necessary, though

limited, portion of His own subtle and all-powerful intelligence.

All my instincts warn me that this is so; but that, so long as it is

imprisoned by this earthly matter, it cannot give itself that freedom.

When freed from it, my spirit will bound to its source.

* * * * *

A contracted, insect-mind, it is often. Fancy it groping with its

tentacles, stretched almost to snapping, far into yet further spaces;

then, suddenly contracting into apparent mindlessness, at the buzz of a

fly, the bite of an insect, the pang of small nerve! With aspirations

after a seat in the Heaven of Heavens, yet, more often, content to

wallow in the mud--thereby proving its relationship to the noblest and

the meanest! Without that portion of Divinity it could not imagine its

obligation to the Creator, nor be conscious of its affinity with the

brutes.

ON THE FEAR OF DEATH

The weakness of our number against the overpowering force of savages[54]

forbade resistance. Against such a multitude, what hope had we? The

imminence of death brought with it a strange composure. I did not fear

it as I imagined I should; a fortitude to bear anything came to me, and

I could actually smile contemptuously at the former craven fear of its

pain and the sudden rupture of life.

ON ILLUSIONS

Though many illusions are of a character we should gladly cherish, yet

the sooner we lose some of them, the sooner we gain the power of seeing

clearly into things. The one who possesses least has the best chance of

becoming wise. The man who travels, and reflects, loses illusions faster

than he who stays at home. There are nevertheless some illusions, which,

when lost, he bitterly regrets.

To-day, I can feel comfortably at home in almost any country; and can

fully appreciate the truth of Shakespeare’s words, that ‘To a wise man,

all places that the eye of Heaven visits are ports and happy havens.’

Yet I sympathise still with that belief of my youth, that Wales, being

my native-land, possessed for me superior charms to any other.

Had I seen no other wondrous lands, met no other men and women with whom

I could sympathise, it is probable that I should have retained the

belief that Wales was the finest country in the world, and the Welsh

people the best. I used to believe the Bishop was the holiest man

living; the Rev. Mr. Smalley, of Cwm, the biggest man; Sam Ellis, of

Llanbach, the strongest man; Hicks Owen, the finest preacher; my cousin

Moses, the most scholarly; the Vale of Clwyd, the prettiest; Liverpool,

the biggest and most populous town; and the Welsh people, the superior

of any in the whole world.

Without any effort of mine, or anybody else’s, to disabuse me of these

illusions, I have seen hundreds just as holy as the Bishop, bigger men

than the Cwm rector, stronger men than Sam Ellis, better preachers than

Hicks Owen, men more scholarly than Moses Owen, prettier scenery than

the Clwyd, richer and more populous towns than Liverpool, and more

advanced people than the Welsh!

THE TRAINING OF YOUNG MEN, AND EDUCATION

When I was young, a religious and moral training was considered

necessary, as well as an intellectual education, for the improvement of

youth; but, since the banishment[55] of the Bible from the schools, it

has been deemed wise to pay attention to the training of the intellect

alone, while the natural disposition of youth has caused attention to be

paid to athletics.

With a few choice natures this might be sufficient, but I observe that

the generality of young men have not that respect for moral obligations

it would be desirable to foster. The youth whose word is unimpeachable,

whose courage is based on a thorough comprehension of his duty, called

moral, whose spirit bends before its dictates, yet is capable of being

inspired by honour, and swayed by discipline, is far more useful,

valuable, and trustworthy than an athlete with all the intellectual

attainments of a Senior Wrangler; but an athlete combining such moral

and intellectual gifts would inspire love and admiration wherever he

went.

When our sons are steady, reliable, and honest, as well as scholars and

athletes, this nation will top the list of nations, as there are no

excellences superior to these obtainable, and these will lead the world

for ages yet. The Presbyterianism of Cromwell did much; but we can beat

that, if we aim for the best. The three M’s are all that we

need--Morals, Mind, and Muscles. These must be cultivated, if we wish to

be immortal--we are in danger of paying attention to Mind and Muscle

only.

ON EDUCATION

Schools turn out men efficient enough in reading, writing, ciphering,

and deportment; they then go forth to face the world, and they find

their school education is the smallest part of what they have in future

to learn. They are fit for no profession or employment.

The average school-boy and college man cannot understand business,

cannot build or make anything, cannot command men; only after long and

laborious practice can he be entrusted to do rightly any of these

things. Three-fourths of those who came to Africa were qualified only in

the accomplishments of the school-boy. They were unpractised in

authority, untrustworthy as to obedience, ignorant of self-command; they

had apparently never sounded their own virtues or capacities; they

appeared surprised and incapable when called upon to think for

themselves. The public schools and colleges do not teach young men _to

think_.

ON LEARNING

Learning, by which is commonly understood the results of assimilation of

varied and long years of reading, reflection, and observation, is the

capital of intellect, and is an honoured thing. It is composed of

literary acquisitions subjected to mental analysis. It certainly

contributes to the elevation of man to a lofty sphere; and yet, after

all, I am inclined to think that great as a literary man may be from the

store of intellectual treasures he may have acquired, he gets an undue

proportion of the world’s admiration. The master-minds of a nation are

many and various. The great statesman, the great administrator, the

great inventor, the great man of science, the multitude of nameless, but

bold and resolute, pioneers, those, for instance, who made Australasia;

our great missionaries, those brave, patient souls who, in distant

lands, devote their lives to kindling the fires of Christianity in

savage breasts; the missionaries at home, who are unweariedly exhorting

and encouraging the poor and despairing, exciting the young and heroic

virtue of these, and many more, who go to make the leaders of a

civilised nation,--we hear little of these, compared with what we are

told of men who write books. But the stones which go to make the

palatial edifice have been laid by many hands. Why does most of the

honour go to the writer of books?

ON REAL RECREATION

‘Joy’s Soul lies in the doing,

And the Rapture of pursuing,

Is the prize.’

Even rest is found in occupation, and striving. It is labour which kills

discontent, and idle repose which slays content; for it creates a myriad

of ills, and a nausea of life, it brings congestion to the organs of the

body, and muddles the clear spring of intelligence. The heart is heated

by our impatience, while the soul is deflected from its vigorous course

by excess of shameful ease. Joy’s Soul lies in the doing! The truth

which lies in this verse explains that which has caused many a

personality to become illustrious. It is an old subject in poetry.

Shakespeare, Milton, Wordsworth, Longfellow, and many more have rung the

changes, or expressed the idea, in verse.

Milton, though troubled with blindness and domestic misery, was happy in

the lofty scenes conjured up by his poetic imagination, and therefore he

could have said, ‘Joy’s Soul lies in the doing, And the Rapture of

pursuing is the prize.’

Livingstone was happy in the consciousness that he was engaged in a

noble work, and the joy in the grand consequences that would follow.

This self-imposed mission banished remembrance of the advance of age,

and made him oblivious of the horrors of his position. What supported

Gordon during the siege of Khartoum, but this inward joy in his mission

which his nature idealised and glorified? Coleridge says:--

‘Joy, Lady! is the spirit and the power

Which wedding Nature to us gives in dower.’

ON REVIEWS AND REVIEWERS

The Reviews of my books have sometimes been too one-sided, whether for,

or against, me. The Reviewer is either fulsome, or he is a bitter

savage, striking stupidly because of blind hate. A Review in the ‘New

York Tribune,’ for instance, or the ‘New York Independent,’ the American

‘Sun,’ the ‘Times,’ ‘Morning Post,’ or ‘Daily Telegraph,’ is, however,

the disinterested outcome of study, and is really instructive and worth

reading.

It was owing to repeated attacks of the Public and Press that I lost the

elastic hope of my youth, the hope, and belief, that toil, generosity,

devotion to duty, righteous doing, would receive recognition at the

hands of my fellow-creatures who had been more happily born, more

fortunately endowed, more honoured by circumstances and fate than I. It

required much control of natural waywardness to reform the shattered

aspirations. For it seemed as though the years of patient watchfulness,

the long periods of frugality, the painstaking self-teaching in lessons

of manliness, had ended disastrously in failure.

For what was my reward? Resolute devotion to a certain ideal of duty,

framed after much self-exhortation to uprightness of conduct, and

righteous dealing with my fellow-creatures, had terminated in my being

proclaimed to all the world first as a forger, and then as a buccaneer,

an adventurer, a fraud, and an impostor! It seemed to reverse all order

and sequence, to reverse all I had been taught to expect. Was this what

awaited a man who had given up his life for his country and for Africa?

He who initiates change must be prepared for opposition; the

strong-willed is bound to be hated. But the object need not be

sacrificed for this. A man shall not swerve from his path because of the

barking of dogs.

Spears in Africa were hurtful things, and so was the calumny of the

Press here; but I went on and did my work, the work I was sent into the

world to do.

ON READING THE NEWSPAPERS

That which has to be resisted in reading newspapers is the tendency to

become too vehement about many things with which really I have no

concern. I am excited to scorn and pity, enraged by narratives of petty

events of no earthly concern to me, or any friend of mine. I am roused

to indignation by ridiculous partisanship, by loose opinions, hastily

formed without knowledge of the facts. Columns of the papers are given

up to crime, to records of murder, and unctuous leaders on them. Many

newspapers are absolutely wanting in patriotism. A week of such reading

makes me generally indulgent to moral lapses, inclines me to weak

sentimentalism, and causes me to relax in the higher duty I owe to God,

my neighbour, and myself; in short, many days must elapse before I can

look with my own eyes, weigh with my own mind, and be myself again. In

Africa, where I am free of newspapers, the mind has scope in which to

revolve, virtuously content. Civilisation never looks more lovely than

when surrounded by barbarism; and yet, strange to say, barbarism never

looks so inviting to me as when I am surrounded by civilisation.

RETURNING TO ENGLAND

When returning to Britain from the Continent, I am not struck by the

great superiority of that land over France, Italy, Belgium, and Germany;

in some things it is decidedly inferior, as in the more substantial

structure, and more pleasing appearance, of the homes abroad: they are

bigger, loftier, cleaner, and handsomer, the public buildings more

imposing.

France and Italy shine with whiteness, Britain appears in a

half-cleaned-up state, after being drenched with soot; its sky seems

more threatening, and though the leafage and grass in the fields are

pleasantly green, the stems and twigs are exceedingly black. The white

cottages, with red tiles, of France, are more beautiful than the dingy

brick and dark slate of England.

The generous union of hearts and hands, loving brotherhood, equality of

one sturdy farmer with another, are better exemplified by the open,

cultivated fields of Europe, than by the miserable, useless hedges,

which, by their crooked lines marking the small properties, tell me

which one is poor, which better-off, which rich. Then I hate the waste

of good land, and while the island is but small, thousands of square

miles are absorbed by the briar and hawthorn-topped dykes, and their

muddy ditches, which might be utilised in extending fields to grow corn

for man, and grass for cattle.

Then, on reaching London, compare the sad-looking streets, which you

look down upon from the lofty railway, with the bright Paris you left in

the morning. You may compare the one to a weeping widow, the other to a

gay bride; or to a slatternly fishwoman and to a neat grisette. These

thoughts tend to make one humble-minded, and admit that, after all you

have heard about the superiority of England, Frenchmen, Swiss, Germans,

Italians, and Belgians have nothing to deplore at being born in their

own lands, whatever some Englishmen may profess to feel for them; but

that, rather, we Englishmen ought to grieve that things are so awry with

our climate that we have so much to envy our neighbours. However, when

we descend from the train, and we mix with our countrymen, and hear

their pleasing accents of English, are received with politeness by

friends, Custom-house officials, and cabmen, a secret feeling of

pleasure takes possession of us, and we rejoice that our native language

is English, and that we belong to the big, broad-chested race round

about us.

FORTY YEARS AGO

It is the same nation; it is the same Queen; the present Ministers are

twin brothers to those who governed then. In the pulpits and the schools

the same preachers and teachers preach and teach. One might say that no

change has taken place in forty years. It is certainly the same nation,

but nevertheless the people of to-day are different from the people of

forty years ago.

The captains of ships and officers of the army, the school-masters at

the schools, and the governors of gaols, have abandoned the birch and

the ‘cat.’ Instead of applying black marks on the bodies of their

victims with smiles of content, they put black marks in a book opposite

their names--and the curious punishment seems to have good effect, in

many cases.

A great change has also been effected in the Provinces. Forty years ago,

they were years behind the Metropolis, Liverpool and Manchester were

only ‘country cousins’ to London, and the people of the country were

very far behind Liverpool and Manchester; whereas now, a fashion coming

out to-day in London will be out, to-morrow, in every village, almost,

in Britain.

Of course, the railway, the telegraph, and the Universal Providers are

the causes of this universal transmission of metropolitan ideas and

tastes. This is desirable in a great measure, because it has a

stimulating and quickening tendency on ‘provincialism,’ and militates

against ‘stodginess.’ If we could only be sure that no matter vitiating

the moral fibre of the nation also ran along the arteries of the land

from its heart, we should have cause for congratulation; but, if the

extremities of the land absorb the impurities of the Metropolis, the

strong moral fibre of the nation will soon be destroyed.

There are things characteristic of the masses in towns, and other things

which are, or were, characteristic of the country. But now the hot

impulse of the city mobs has an appreciable effect on those in the

provinces, erstwhile sturdier and more deliberate. If we were always

sure that the impulse was good and beneficial, there would be nothing to

regret. The frivolities of an aggregate of humanity such as London

presents are inseparable from the many millions of people gathered

within its walls; but they are out of place under the blue sky, and in

the peaceful, green fields of the country. The smoke of the city, and

the roar of the traffic, obscure the heavens, and affect the nerves,

until we almost forget the God Who rules, and our religious duties.

Outside of London, the smiling fields, and, skywards, the rolling clouds

and the shining sun, make us aware that there is a Presence we had

almost forgotten.

SOCIALISM

Socialism is a return to primitive conditions. Where it is in force in

Africa, on the Congo, especially, we see that their condition is more

despicable than in East Africa.

On the Congo, people are afraid to get richer than their neighbours.

They would be objects of suspicion; some day the tribe would doom them,

and they would be burnt. Property in common has often been tried in

America: _e. g._, the original Virginian settlers, the Pilgrims in

Massachusetts, the Shakers, and others; but they have had to abandon the

project. Merely by preventing the spoliation of their fellows, and

giving each man freedom to develop his powers, we have done a prodigious

good in Africa.

Man must be protected from his fellow-man’s greed, as well as from his

anger. Individuals require to be protected from the rapacity of

communities.

LOAFERS

If men who take such pride in cheating their fellows, by doing as little

work as possible, were, only for a change, to glory in doing more and

better than was expected of them, what a difference, I have often

thought, it would make in the feeling between employers and employees!

THE CRY OF ‘WALES FOR THE WELSH’

During my residence in Wales every English man or woman I saw has left

in my memory an amiable reminder. The Bishop was an Englishman. Captain

Thomas, the paternal, fair-minded, hospitable Guardian, was English. Her

Majesty’s Inspector, learned, polite, benevolent, was English.

Brynbella’s lessee, generous and kindly, was English. A chance visitor,

a lady, who came to sketch in the neighbourhood, sitting on a camp-stool

at an easel, was English. I shall never forget her. She painted small

water-colours, and gave us all cakes, oranges, and apples, also

sixpences to the bigger boys and twopences to the lesser!

The best books, the beautiful stories, the novelettes, our geographies,

spelling-books, histories, and school-readers, our Prayer-books and

Bibles, were English. Yet the Welsh hated the English, and the reason

for it I have never been able to discover, even to this day.

We also detested the Paddys of the Square, because they were ragged,

dirty, and quarrelsome, foul of speech, and noisy.

We saw a few French, at least we were told they were French: they were

too much despised to be hated. They belonged to that people who were

beaten at Crécy, Agincourt, Blenheim, and Waterloo.

I should therefore be false to myself if I stooped to say that the Welsh

are the first people under the sun, and that Wales is the most beautiful

country in the world.

But, I am quite willing to admit that the Welsh are as good as any, and

that they might surpass the majority of people if they tried, and that

Wales contains within its limited area as beautiful scenes as any. The

result of my observations is that in Nature the large part of humanity

is on a pretty even plane, but that some respectable portion of it,

thank Goodness! has risen to a higher altitude, owing to the advantages

of civilisation. But there is a higher altitude still, which can only be

reached by those nations who leave off brooding among traditions, and

grasp firmly and gratefully the benefits offered to them by the progress

of the age, and follow the precepts of the seers.

‘Wales for the Welsh’ is as senseless as ‘Ireland for the Irish.’ A

common flag waves over these happy islands, uniting all in a brotherhood

sealed by blood. Over what continents has it not streamed aloft? Who can

count the victories inscribed on it?

NOTES ON AFRICAN TRAVEL, ETC.

ON STARTING ON AN EXPEDITION

Take an honest, open-eyed view of your surroundings, with as much faith

as possible in the God above you, Who knows your heart better than you

know it yourself; and consider that you cannot perish unless it is His

will. But a man need not let his soul be oppressed by fears, religious,

or otherwise, so long as his motives are righteous, his endeavours

honest. Let him see also that his actions are just, and his mind free

from sordid or selfish passions; and that his whole aim is to be

workmanlike and duteous. Thus he is as fit for Heaven as for the world.

Then, bidding a glad farewell to the follies and vanities of civilised

cities, step out with trustful hearts, souls open as the day, to meet

whatever good or evil may be in store for us, perceiving, by many

insignificant signs around, that whatever heavenly protection may be

vouchsafed to us, it would soon be null and void unless we are watchful,

alert, and wise, and unless we learn to do the proper thing at the right

moment--for to this end was our intellect and education given us.

Pious missionaries, even while engaged in worship, have been massacred

at the altar. The white skin of the baptised European avails nothing

against the arrow. Holy amulets and crosses are no protection against

the spear. Faith, without awakened faculties and sharp exercise of them,

is no shield at all against lawless violence!

WRITTEN IN AFRICA, IN 1876, IN A NOTE-BOOK

One of the first sweet and novel pleasures a man experiences in the

wilds of Africa, is the almost perfect independence; the next thing is

the indifference to all things earthly outside his camp; and that, let

people talk as they may, is one of the most exquisite, soul-lulling

pleasures a mortal can enjoy. These two almost balance the pains

inflicted by the climate. In Europe, care ages a man soon enough; and it

is well known that it was ‘care which killed the cat’! In Africa, the

harassing, wearisome cares of the European are unknown. It is the fever

which ages one. Such care as visits explorers is nothing to the trials

of civilisation. In Africa, it is only a healthful exercise of the mind,

without some little portion of which, it were really not worth while

living.

The other enjoyment is the freedom and independence of mind, which

elevates one’s thoughts to purer, higher atmospheres. It is not

repressed by fear, nor depressed by ridicule and insults. It is not

weighed down by sordid thoughts, or petty interests, but now preens

itself, and soars free and unrestrained; which liberty, to a vivid mind,

imperceptibly changes the whole man after a while.

No luxury in civilisation can be equal to the relief from the tyranny of

custom. The wilds of a great city are better than the excruciating

tyranny of a small village. The heart of Africa is infinitely preferable

to the heart of the world’s greatest city. If the way to it was smooth

and safe, millions would fly to it. But London is better than Paris, and

Paris is better than Berlin, and Berlin is better than St. Petersburg.

The West invited thousands from the East of America to be relieved of

the grasp of tyrannous custom. The Australians breathe freer after

leaving England, and get bigger in body and larger in nature.

I do not remember while here in Africa to have been possessed of many

ignoble thoughts; but I do remember, very well, to have had, often and

often, very lofty ideas concerning the regeneration, civilisation, and

redemption of Africa, and the benefiting of England through her trade

and commerce; besides other possible and impossible objects. ‘If one had

only the means, such and such things would be possible of realisation’!

I am continually thinking thus, and I do not doubt they formed

principally the dream-life in which Livingstone passed almost all his

leisure hours.

Another enduring pleasure is that which is derived from exploration of

new, unvisited, and undescribed regions; for, daily, it forms part of my

enjoyment, especially while on the march. Each eminence is eagerly

climbed in the hope of viewing new prospects, each forest is traversed

with a strong idea prevailing that at the other end some grand feature

of nature may be revealed; the morrow’s journey is longed for, in the

hope that something new may be discovered. Then there are the strange

and amusing scenes of camp-life in a savage land; the visits of the

natives, whose peculiar customs or dress, and whose remarks on

strangers, seldom fail to be entertaining; and, best of all, there is

the strong internal satisfaction one feels at the end of each day’s

labours, and the proud thought that something new has been obtained for

general information, and that good will come of it. Lastly, there is the

pleasure of hunting the large, noble game of Africa; that truest of

sports, _where you hunt for food and of necessity_; to track the

elephant, rhinoceros, buffalo, the eland, and other magnificent animals

of the antelope species.

It is a keen, delightful feeling which animates the mind of the African

hunter, as he leaves his camp full of people, and plunges into the

unexplored solitudes, accompanied by only one or two men, in search of

game, ignorant of the adventures which lie before him; but with swift

pulse, braced nerves, and elated heart, he is ready to try his luck

against even the most formidable. The success of the hunt enhances his

pleasure, and, on his return to camp, he meets his people, who are all

agape with admiration of his prowess, and profuse in thanks for the gift

of animal food.

If the traveller’s mind is so happily constituted that, in the pursuit

of duty, he can also command enjoyment in its pursuit, each day brings

its round of single, happy pleasures, often out-balancing the drawbacks

of travel in savage Africa.

‘For such, the rivers dash their foaming tides,

The mountain swells, the dale subsides;

E’en thriftless furze detains their wandering sight,

And the rough, barren rocks grow pregnant with delight.’

If he is a true lover of wild Nature, where can he view her under so

many aspects as in the centre of Africa? Where is she so shy, so

retired, mysterious, fantastic, and savage as in Africa? Where are her

charms so strong, her moods so strange, as in Africa?

One time she appears so stale, flat, and tedious, that the very memory

of the scene sickens and disgusts; another time she covers her prospects

with such a mysterious veil, that I suffered from protracted fits of

melancholy, and depression of spirits, to such a degree I was glad to

turn to meditations on the words of the fourteenth chapter of Job. It is

when Africa presents vast desolate wastes, without grandeur, beauty, or

sublimity, when even animated life appears quite extinct, then it is

that the traveller from long contemplating such scenes is liable to

become seriously afflicted with sullen, savage humour, as though in

accordance with what he beholds.

At another time, Nature in Africa exposes a fair, fresh face to the

light of heaven, a very queen in glory, whose grassy dress exhibits its

shimmers as it is gently blown by the breeze; soft, swelling hills, and

hollows all green with luxuriant leafage; wild flowers and blooming

shrubs perfume the air, and beautiful outlines of hills grace the

extensive prospect. Oh! at such times I forgot all my toils and

privations, I seemed re-created; the mere view around me would send

fresh vigour through my nerves.

In her grand and sublime moods, Nature often appears in Africa, her

crown, wreathed in verdure, lifted sheer up to the white clouds, the

flanks of her hills descending to the verge of her mighty lakes, vast

and impenetrable forests spreading for unending miles. These are the

traveller’s reward; therefore his life in this little-known continent

need not be intolerable; it is not merely a life of toil and danger;

though constant travel may be fatiguing, thirst oppressive, heat a

drawback, and the ever-recurring fever a great evil, he may also find

much that is pleasant. If he is fortunate in his travels, he will not

regret having undertaken his journey, but will always look back upon it,

as I do, as a pleasant period of a useful life; for it will have

considerably enlightened and matured him, and renewed his love for his

own race, his own land, and the institutions of his country, thus

preparing him for the cultivation and enjoyment of more perfect

happiness at home.

AFTER ONE OF HIS EXPEDITIONS

Stanley writes: ‘When a man returns home and finds for the moment

nothing to struggle against, the vast resolve, which has sustained him

through a long and difficult enterprise, dies away, burning as it sinks

in the heart; and thus the greatest successes are often accompanied by a

peculiar melancholy.’

ON THE GOVERNMENT OF THE CONGO

1896. The King of the Belgians has often desired me to go back to the

Congo; but to go back, would be to see mistakes consummated, to be

tortured daily by seeing the effects of an erring and ignorant policy. I

would be tempted to re-constitute a great part of the governmental

machine, and this would be to disturb a moral malaria injurious to the

re-organiser. We have become used to call vast, deep layers of filth,

‘Augean stables’: what shall we call years of stupid government,

mischievous encroachment on the executive, years of unnecessary,

unqualified officers, years of cumbersome administration, years of

neglect at every station, years of confusion and waste in every office?

These evils have become habitual, and to remove them would entail much

worry and dislike, to hear of them would set my nerves on edge, and

cause illness.

ON THE VALUE OF THE CONGO AND BRITISH EAST AFRICA

English legislators imagine they exhibit their wisdom by challenging

travellers to describe the value of the countries to which they seek to

draw attention. Hasty and preliminary exploration of the topographers

cannot be expected to discover all the resources of a country. For sixty

years the English were in possession of South Africa before either

diamonds or gold were found. Nay, England herself was thought by the

Romans to produce nothing but sloes! New Zealand was supposed to be

destitute of anything but timber. Australia has been frequently

contemptuously alluded to.

The Congo possesses splendid inland navigation, abundance of copper,

nitre, gold, palm oil, nuts, copal, rubber, ivory, fibre for rope and

paper, excellent grasses for matting, nets, and fishing-lines, timber

for furniture and ship-building. _All this could have belonged to Great

Britain, but was refused. Alas!_

The Duke of Wellington replied to the New Zealand Association, in 1838,

that Great Britain had sufficient colonies, even though New Zealand

might become a jewel in England’s colonial crown!

ON GENERAL GORDON. 1892

I have often wondered at Gordon; in his place I should have acted

differently.

It was optional with Gordon to live or die; he preferred to die; I

should have lived, if only to get the better of the Mahdi.

With joy of striving, and fierce delight of thwarting, I should have

dogged and harassed the Mahdi, like Nemesis, until I had him down.

I maintain that to live is harder and nobler than to die; to bear life’s

burdens, suffer its sorrows, endure its agonies, is the greater heroism.

The relief of Khartoum, that is to say, removing the garrison and those

anxious to leave, was at first, comparatively speaking, an easy task. I

should have commenced by rendering my position impregnable, by building

triple fortifications _inside_ Khartoum, abutting on the Nile, with

boats and steamers ever ready. No Mahdist should have got at me or my

garrison! I should then have commanded all those civilians desirous of

submitting to the Mahdi to leave Khartoum; people do not realise how

ready, nay eager, they were to do so. Gordon said to an interviewer,

before starting, ‘The moment it is known we have given up the game,

every man will be only too eager to go over to the Mahdi; all men

worship the Rising Sun.’

But I should never have stuck to Khartoum, I would have departed with my

garrison to safer lands by the Upper White Nile. It would not have been

difficult to get to Berber, if Gordon had started without delay, in

fact, as soon as he had fortified himself at Khartoum. My withdrawal

would have been to attack the better, ‘leaving go of the leg, to fly at

the throat’; but if, for some reason, I had decided to stay, my

fortified citadel would have held the Mahdists at bay till help came.

There would have been no danger of starvation, as I should have turned

all undesirables out. Then, as a last resource, there was the Nile.

My one idea would have been to carry out what I had undertaken to do,

without any outside help. If I had gone to Khartoum to rescue the

garrison, the garrison would have been rescued! When Gordon started,

this is what he undertook to do; there was no thought, or question, of

sending a rescue expedition. It was failure all round--Gordon failed

first, then Gladstone and the Government.

But I have refrained from all public expression of opinion, because it

is not permitted in England to criticise Gordon; and, besides, he was a

true hero, and he died nobly. That silences one: nevertheless, I hold

that Gordon need not have died!

HENRY MORTON STANLEY

Large shall his name be writ, with that strong line,

Of heroes, martyrs, soldiers, saints, who gave

Their lives to chart the waste, and free the slave,

In the dim Continent where his beacons shine.

Rightly they call him Breaker of the Path,

Who was no cloistered spirit, remote and sage,

But a swift swordsman of our wrestling age,

Warm in his love, and sudden in his wrath.

How many a weary league beneath the Sun

The tireless foot had traced, that lies so still.

Now sinks the craftsman’s hand, the sovereign will;

Now sleeps the unsleeping brain, the day’s work done.

Muffle the drums and let the death-notes roll,

One of the mightier dead is with us here;

Honour the vanward’s Chief, the Pioneer,

Do fitting reverence to a warrior soul.

But far away his monument shall be,

In the wide lands he opened to the light,

By the dark Forest of the tropic night,

And his great River winding to the Sea.

SIDNEY LOW.

_May 13, 1904._

BIBLIOGRAPHY.

* * * * *

How I Found Livingstone. With maps and illustrations. New York: Charles

Scribner’s Sons.

My Kalulu: Prince, King, and Slave. Illustrated. New York: Charles

Scribner’s Sons.

Coomassie and Magdala: the British Campaign in Africa. New York: Harper

and Brothers.

Through the Dark Continent. Illustrated. 2 vols. New York: Harper and

Brothers.

The Congo and the Founding of its Free State. 2 vols. With maps and

Illustrations. New York: Harper and Brothers.

In Darkest Africa: the Quest, Rescue, and Retreat of Emin, Governor of

Equatoria. With maps and illustrations. 2 vols. New York: Charles

Scribner’s Sons.

My Dark Companions and their Strange Stories. Illustrated. New York:

Charles Scribner’s Sons.

Slavery and the Slave Trade in Africa. Illustrated. New York: Harper and

Brothers.

My Early Travels and Adventures in America and Asia. With portraits. 2

vols. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons.

Through South Africa: a Visit to Rhodesia, the Transvaal, Cape Colony,

and Natal. With maps and illustrations. New York: Charles Scribner’s

Sons.

* * * * *

⁂ All the above works were published in England by Messrs. Sampson Low,

Marston & Co.

* * * * *

[Illustration:

Sir H. M. STANLEY’S THREE AFRICAN JOURNEYS

]

[Illustration: MAP OF ENGLAND & WALES ON SAME SCALE]

INDEX

Abruzzi, Duke of the, ascends the Mountains of the Moon, 371.

Abyssinian expedition, 227-230.

Aden, Stanley at, 237, 238.

Africa, the Abyssinian expedition, 227-230;

the finding of Livingstone, 251-284;

Coomassie, 285-295 ;

Stanley’s expedition through, 296-332;

founding the Congo State, 333-352;

the rescue of Emin, 353-391;

a review of Stanley’s work in, 392-408;

maps of, 392, 393;

South, 482-500;

on starting on an expedition into, 533;

on the pleasure of travelling in, 533-536;

on returning from an expedition in, 536.

Ague, 155, 156.

Albert Edward Nyanza, the, 370, 371.

Albert Nyanza, the, 359.

Allen, William, 468.

Altschul, Mr., 151-161.

America, Stanley’s first visit to, 81-215;

later visits to, 220-227, 291, 425-428.

Anderson, Captain, 345.

Anderson, Colonel Finlay, 228, 237.

Arkansas, population of, 156;

spirit prevailing in, 156, 157.

Arnold, Sir Edwin, thoughts on his _Light of the World_, 522.

Ashantees, the, 291-295.

Ashburton, Lady, 423.

Ashmead-Bartlett, Mr., 480.

Auckland, Stanley visits, 435, 436.

Australia, Stanley visits, 434, 435.

_Autobiography_, Stanley begins, 465.

Baker, Mr., the American, 215.

Baker, Sir Samuel White, death of, 462;

Stanley’s estimate of, 462, 463.

Balfour, Dr. Andrew, 407.

Balfour, Arthur, 473, 474.

Balfour, Gerald, 474.

Barker, Frederick, 298, 300, 317.

Barttelot, Major, 354, 360, 364.

Beauregard, General P. G. T., 185, 187 n., 445.

Bedford, Grammar School at, 456.

Belgium, in Africa. _See_ Leopold.

Belmont, battle of, 175.

Bennett, J. G., Stanley’s first interview with, 228;

commissions Stanley to search for Livingstone, 245;

agrees to join in sending Stanley to explore Africa, 298.

Bethell, Commander, 478.

Bible, the, the elder Mr. Stanley’s views of, 136;

Stanley reads, in the wilds of Africa, 252-255.

Binnie, Mr., engineer, 344, 345.

Bismarck summons a conference on the Congo State, 338, 339.

Bonny, William, 363, 364.

Books, Stanley’s, in America, 97, 127;

later read by Stanley, 237, 240, 429, 432, 433, 458, 459, 463, 475, 508.

Bowles, ‘Tommy,’ 478, 479.

Braconnier, 346, 347.

Brassey, Lord, 501.

Brazza, M. de, 336.

Bruce, A. L., urges Stanley to become a candidate for Parliament, 439;

death of, 459;

Stanley’s affection for, 459, 460.

Bryce, James, 478.

Brynford, 41.

Buell, General D. C., on the battle of Shiloh, 203 n.

Burdett-Coutts, the Baroness and Mr., 418.

Burgevine, General, 166.

Burton, Sir Richard F., 423, 424.

Campbell-Bannerman, 504.

Camperio, Captain, 424.

Canterbury, 432, 433.

Carnarvon, Stanley’s reception at, 431.

Carnival, the, at Odessa, 247.

Casati, 424.

Caucasus, Stanley in the, 245.

Cave City, in camp at, 179-185.

Chamberlain, the Rt. Hon. Joseph, on

the slave-trade in Africa, 344 n.;

as a debater, 479;

on South Africa, 495;

as a speaker, 503.

Christopherson, Albert, 345.

Civil War in America, events preceding, 161-166;

Stanley’s part in, 167-221;

why men enlisted for, 168;

Northern view of cause of, 202.

Cleveland, President, his Venezuelan message, 482.

Clwyd, Vale of, 51.

Coleman, Mr., 159.

Columbus, Ohio, the Gibraltar of the Mississippi, 175.

Congo, the, traced by Stanley, 318-330;

opened up, 333-352.

_Congo and the Founding of its Free State_, 334.

Congo State, founding the, 333-352, 399, 400;

recognised by the civilised powers, 338;

Stanley on the government of, 537;

Stanley on the value of, 537.

Cook, W. H., 222-224.

Coomassie, 229, 292, 293.

Crete, 230.

Cromer, 453.

Cronin, Mr., 151-153.

Cypress Grove, 151-166.

Dalziell, Mr., 476.

_Darkest Africa, In_, 411, 422.

Davis, Richard Harding, 508.

Death, thoughts on the fear of, 523, 524.

Degrees conferred on Stanley, 424, 425.

Denbigh, 219.

Denbigh Castle, 4-8.

‘Dido,’ the captain of the, 114.

Dilke, Sir Charles, 473, 474, 477.

Dillon, John, 474, 476.

Dixie Greys, the, 165, 166.

Donnelly, Ignatius, _Cæsar’s Column_, 433.

Douglas, Camp, 205-214.

East African Company, 446-449.

East Anglia, 450.

Education, thoughts on, 524-526.

Eisteddfod, the, 14, 16, 430, 434.

Ellison, Mr., 106, 112.

Emin Pasha, calls for help, 353;

as described by Dr. Felkin, 354;

discovered, 361;

Stanley’s impression of, 362;

a prisoner, 368;

deceived by his officers, 368;

goes with Stanley to the coast, 370-372;

has a fall from a balcony, 372;

engages himself to the Germans, 373, 374;

death of, 375.

England, and Coomassie, 285-295;

backwardness of, in founding the Congo State, 333, 334, 338, 406;

belittles Stanley’s work, 400;

in East Africa, 422;

and South Africa, 487-500;

thoughts on returning to, 529;

changes in, in forty years, 530, 531.

Evangelides, Christo, 230-236.

Felkin, Dr. R. W., his picture of Emin, 353, 354.

Fetish, the, and Ngalyema, 339-342.

Ffynnon Beuno, 42-47, 51-55.

Fisher, Fort, Stanley writes account of attack on, 220, 221.

Flamini, François, 345.

Foraging, in the American Civil War, 180.

Francis, James, 12-16, 32-34.

Furze Hill, 506-514.

Galton, Sir Francis, 286, 287.

Garstin, Sir William, on the importance of

Stanley’s discoveries, 404, 405.

Genealogy, 3.

Generalship, American, fault of, 178.

Germany, in East Africa, 422.

Ghost stories, 8, 9.

Gladstone, W. E., Stanley’s interview with, 419-421;

as a speaker, 479, 480.

Goff, Mr., 65.

Gordon, General, Stanley’s view of character of, 338, 527;

massacre of, 353;

Stanley on death of, 396, 397, 538, 539.

Goree, Dr. and Dan, 160, 162, 165, 169, 170, 180.

Grant, Colonel J. A., death of, 437, 438.

Grant, U. S., on the battle of Shiloh, 203;

Stanley’s opinion of, 445.

Greene, Conyngham, 494.

Grey, Sir George, letter of, on the Emin Relief Expedition, 378, 379;

events of his life, 379;

entertains Stanley at Auckland, 435;

Stanley’s opinion of, 436;

letter of, to Stanley, 436, 437;

letter of, to Mrs. Stanley on Stanley’s defeat

in the Parliament election, 442, 443;

on place of Stanley’s burial, 515, 516.

Gully, William Court, 469-472.

Haldane, Mr., 474.

Hancock, General, expedition of, against

the Kiowas and Comanches, 225-227.

Happiness, thoughts on, 237, 238.

Harcourt, Sir William, 473.

Hardinge, Captain David, 67.

Harman, Rev. Dr., 246.

Harry, boy on board the ‘Windermere,’ 70-72, 78, 79, 82-84.

Hawthorn, Colonel A. T., 168.

Healy, Tim, 475, 477.

Heaton, Dick (Alice), 107-111.

Henderson, Senator, 226, 227.

Hills-Johnes, Sir James and Lady, hosts to Stanley, 464.

Hindman, General T. C., 203, 204.

Holywell, John, 28.

Houldsworth, Sir William, 476.

House of Commons, Stanley becomes candidate for, but is defeated, 439;

becomes a second time candidate, and is elected, 439-445, 466;

Stanley’s impressions of, 467-481, 501-505.

Hubbard, Mr., 158, 161.

Illusions, thoughts on, 524.

Indians, American, the, 225-227.

Ingham, Major, Stanley’s meeting with, 142;

takes Stanley home with him, 146;

life on his plantation, 146-150.

Ingham, Mrs. Annie, death of, 445.

Ingham, C. E., death of, 463.

International African Association, 334-338.

Isangila, 335.

James, Lord, of Hereford, 483.

Jameson, Dr., his invasion of the Transvaal, 482, 483.

Jameson, Mr., 354.

Jephson, Mounteney, joins Stanley’s expedition for

the rescue of Emin, 354;

sent by Stanley to search for Emin, 360, 361;

a prisoner, 368;

Stanley’s characterisation of, 382;

sufferings of, 387;

carries succour to Nelson, 390;

accompanies Stanley to Ostend, 434;

Stanley in last sickness talks of, 515.

Jerusalem, Stanley at, 245.

Johnston, General A. S., 185, 199.

Journalism, Stanley’s career in, 220-250, 291-295.

Kennicy, Mr., 89, 91, 101, 102.

Khartoum, massacre of Gordon’s forces at, 353;

how Stanley would have acted at, 538.

Kimber, Mr., 469, 470.

Kitchen, J. D., 101-106, 121.

Krüger, President, Stanley’s description of, 489-499;

his ultimatum, 503, 504.

Kûmishah, 248.

Ladysmith, Stanley on its position as a camp, 499, 500.

Learning, thoughts on, 526.

Lee, Mr., nephew of General Lee, 165, 169.

Lee, General Robert E., Stanley’s opinion of, 445.

Leopold, King, of Belgium, interested in the opening

up of Africa, 334, 338;

discusses African affairs with Stanley, 412-417;

concludes treaty with English Government, 418;

Stanley the guest of, at Ostend, 424;

invites Stanley to Ostend, 434.

Leopoldville, 336.

Liverpool, Stanley’s life at, 56-68.

Livingstone, Stanley goes to Aden to meet, 237;

Stanley is commissioned to search for, 245;

reported character of, 250;

Stanley in search of, 251-263;

found, 263-267;

why he did not return of his own accord, 267-272;

leaves Ujiji, 273;

character of, 273-278, 281-284, 527;

Stanley’s parting from, 279, 280;

death of, 280;

feelings of Stanley at news of his death, 295, 296;

letters of, to Sir George Grey, 435.

Llys, the, 40.

Loafers, thoughts on, 531.

Long Hart, 72.

Low, Sidney, his article on Stanley’s African explorations, 392-404;

poem of, on Stanley, 540.

Lowell, J. R., _Letters_ of, 458, 459, 461.

Lualaba, the, 318-330. _See_ Congo.

Lyall, Sir Alfred, Stanley presides at lecture of, 501.

Lyons, Colonel, 168.

Machiavelli, 463, 464.

Mackay, A. M., 406.

Mackinnon, Sir William, patronises the Emin Relief Expedition, 354;

and the

East African Company, 446-449;

death and funeral of, 446, 449;

remarks on, 459, 460.

Malone, Tom, 169, 180.

Mason, Penny, 165, 169.

Manyanga, 335.

Marks, Mr., 489, 494.

Matabele War, 454, 455.

McKenna, Mr., 478.

Melchet Court, 423, 428.

Milligan, Colonel James A., 205.

Milner, Sir Alfred, on South Africa, 495.

Milton, John, 526.

Mind and soul, thoughts on, 522, 523.

Mirambo, 257, 258.

Mississippi River, 115-117, 125.

Moon, Mountains of the, 371.

Morris, Edward Joy, 223, 245.

Morris, Maria, aunt of Stanley, 55, 57, 62-68.

Morris, Tom, uncle of Stanley, 58-68.

Mose, boyhood friend of Stanley, 34-40.

Mtesa, 311-313, 317, 318, 405.

Murchison, Sir Roderick, 267, 282.

_My Early Travels and Adventures_, 225, 245.

Myers, F. W. H., quoted, 289.

Napier, Sir Robert, 229.

National School at Brynford, 44, 47-51.

Nelson, mate on board the ‘Windermere,’ 70, 75, 76, 80.

Nelson, Captain, 354, 383, 387, 390.

New Orleans, Stanley’s life at, 81-125;

later visit to, 426, 427.

New York, Stanley’s impressions of, 425.

_New York Herald_, Stanley becomes correspondent of, 228-230.

New Zealand, Stanley visits, 434-437.

Newspapers, Stanley reads, in the wilds of Africa, 252-255;

the scavenger-beetles of, 288;

thoughts on reading the, 528.

Ngalyema and the fetish, 339-342.

Nile, the, Stanley’s discoveries regarding the sources of, 301, 371, 405.

North-Welsh, the, 52.

Norwich, 452.

Odessa, Stanley at, 247.

O’Kelly, James J., 468, 469, 471, 472.

Owen, Hicks, 18.

Owen, Mary, aunt of Stanley, 42-57, 207, 208.

Owen, Moses, 41-51.

Parke, Surgeon, joins the expedition for the rescue of Emin, 354;

on the march, 360, 373;

his journal of the expedition, 378, 436, 437;

Stanley’s opinion of, 381, 382, 390;

accompanies Stanley to Melchet Court, 423;

death of, 459, 460.

Parker, Henry, 187, 188, 193.

Parkinson, John, 58.

Parkinson, Mary, 58.

Parliament. _See_ House of Commons.

Parry, Moses, grandfather of Stanley, 6-8.

Pasargadæ, ruins of, 248.

Peace Commission to the Indians, 225-227.

Persepolis, 249.

Phillpots, Mr., 458.

Pickersgill, Mr., 476.

Pigmies, 365-367.

Platte River, 222.

Pocock, Francis and Edward, 298, 300, 301, 321, 329.

Portugal, in Africa, 338.

Prayer, thoughts on the efficacy of, 519-521.

Price, Dick, 10.

Price, Richard and Jenny, 8-10.

Price, Sarah, 8-10.

Provincialism, 155.

Rawlinson, Sir Henry, 286, 289.

Reading, Mr. Stanley the elder instructs Stanley in, 127.

Recreation, real, thoughts on, 526, 527.

Redmond, John, 474.

Religion, thoughts on, 518-520.

Religious convictions, of Stanley when a boy, 23-28;

of the elder Mr. Stanley, 133-137.

Religious education, thoughts on, 522.

Reviews and reviewers, thoughts on, 527, 528.

Rhodes, Cecil, 455.

Rhuddlan Eisteddfod, 14, 16.

Richardson, Mr., 89-121.

Roberts, Lord, 464.

Roberts, Willie, 22, 23.

Robertson, Mr., 472, 473.

Robinson, Rev. Joseph A., refuses to allow Stanley

to be buried in Westminster Abbey, 515.

Rowlands, John, Stanley’s real name. _See_ Stanley, Henry Morton.

Rowlands, John, Stanley’s grandfather, 38-40.

Runciman, Mr., 525 n.

Ruwenzori Mountains. _See_ Moon, Mountains of the.

St. Asaph Union Workhouse, 10-34.

St. Louis, 115, 116.

Salisbury, Lord, accuses Stanley of having interests in Africa, 408;

as an orator, 445, 446, 465.

Sandford, General, 338.

Saragossa, fighting at, 241-243.

Saunderson, Colonel, 489.

Scheabeddin, quoted, 371.

Schnitzer, Edouard. _See_ Emin Pasha.

Seton-Karr, Mr., 474.

Sherman, General W. T., 226, 227, 426.

Shiloh, 186-204.

Shipman, Mr., 205, 206, 212, 213.

Short, Bishop Vowler, 17, 30.

Slate, James M., 169, 180, 204.

Slave-trade in Africa, 344, 407, 413, 419-422, 457.

Smalley, Mr., 17.

Smith, Parker, 478, 480.

Smith, Captain S. G., 165, 168, 188, 189.

Socialism, thoughts on, 531.

Soldiering, 167-215.

Solomon’s Throne, 248.

Soul and mind, thoughts on, 522, 523.

Spain, Stanley in, 240-244.

Speake, James, 89, 102-105, 121.

Speake, Mrs., 105, 106.

Speke, Mr., 435, 462.

Stairs, Lieutenant, 354, 360, 381, 390.

Stanley, Denzil, Stanley’s son, 483, 485, 486.

Stanley, Henry Morton, his progenitors, 3, 4;

dawn of consciousness, 4;

earliest recollections, 4-7;

his grandfather, 7, 8;

at the Prices’, 8-10;

taken to the Workhouse, 10;

his first flogging, 13, 14;

his second memorable whipping, 14, 15;

life at the school, 16-22;

his feelings at the death of Willie Roberts, 22, 23;

his religious convictions, 23-28;

his meeting with his mother, 28, 29;

the most advanced pupil, 30;

his personal appearance, 30;

acts as deputy over the school, 31;

his struggle with Francis and flight from the Workhouse, 32-34;

adventures after leaving the Workhouse, 35-37;

visits Denbigh and learns of his relatives, 37-40;

calls on his grandfather, John Rowlands, 40;

engaged as pupil-teacher, 41;

visits his aunt, Mary Owen, 42-47;

at the National School at Brynford, 47-51;

returns to Ffynnon Beuno, 51;

life at Ffynnon Beuno, 51-55;

leaves Ffynnon Beuno, 55;

sadness at departure, 56;

arrival at Liverpool, 56-59;

visits Mr. Winter, 60;

employed at a haberdasher’s, 62;

about the docks, 64;

employed at a butcher’s, 65;

ships as cabin-boy, 67;

sails for New Orleans, 68;

on board the ‘Windermere,’ 69-81.

Arrival at New Orleans, 81;

first night in New Orleans, 82-84;

leaves the ‘Windermere,’ 84, 85;

seeks work in New Orleans, 86-89;

first meeting with Mr. Stanley the elder, 87-90;

taken on trial, 89;

in his new position, 90-93;

permanently engaged, 93;

his new feeling of independence, 94-96;

his affection for New Orleans, 96;

on the moral courage to say ‘No,’ 96;

books read at this period, 97, 98;

takes breakfast with Mr. Stanley, 98-100;

his acquaintance with the Stanleys, 100, 101;

his salary increased, 101;

his discovery of a theft in the business house, 102-104;

Mr. Stanley’s gift of books to, 105;

watches the body of Mr. Speake, 105, 106;

adventure with Dick (Alice) Heaton, 107-111;

discharged from Ellison and McMillan’s, 106;

his account of the death of Mrs. Stanley, 111-113;

attends the captain of the ‘Dido,’ 114;

leaves New Orleans, 115;

goes to St. Louis, 115;

returns to New Orleans, 116-118;

taken under the charge of Mr. Stanley and given his name, 118-125;

travels with Mr. Stanley, 125;

his mental acquisitiveness and memory, 126;

his judgement a thing of growth, 126;

studies and reads with Mr. Stanley, 127;

profits by the moral instruction of Mr.

Stanley, 128-133, 137-139;

the religious views taught him by Mr. Stanley, 133-137;

further education at the hands of Mr. Stanley, 140;

his personal appearance, 140;

his last parting with Mr. Stanley, 142-145;

receives a letter from Mr. Stanley, 145, 146;

on Major Ingham’s plantation, 146-150;

at Mr. Waring’s, 150;

walks to the Arkansas River, 150, 151;

at Mr. Altschul’s store, 151-161;

learns of the death of Mr. Stanley, 161;

hears of events preceding the Civil War, 161-166.

Enlists, 166;

his enlistment a blunder, 167;

his mess, 169;

on the march, 171-175;

witnesses the battle of Belmont, 175;

campaigning, 175-179;

in camp at Cave City, 179;

foraging, 179-185;

transferred to Corinth, 185;

at the battle of Shiloh, 186-203;

made a prisoner, 200;

taken to the rear, 200-203;

prisoner of war, 205-214;

vision of Aunt Mary, 207, 208;

enrolled in the U. S. Service, 214;

has the prison disease and is discharged, 214, 219;

events following his discharge, 214, 215, 219.

Arrives at Liverpool, 219;

visits his mother’s house and his reception, 219;

returns to America and joins the merchant service, 220;

enlists in United States Navy and is ship’s writer, 220;

writes account of attack on Fort Fisher, 220, 221;

wanders about America, 221;

“Press” and “Stage,” 221, 222;

floats down the Platte River, 222;

goes to Asia (Stanley-Cook exploration), 223, 224;

joins General Hancock’s expedition against the Indians, and

accompanies the Peace Commission to the Indians as

correspondent, 225-227;

his earnings, 227;

becomes correspondent of the _New York Herald_, 228;

reports the Abyssinian expedition, 229, 230;

goes to Crete, 230;

the Virginia episode at Island of Syra, 230-236;

his further travels, 237;

goes to Aden to meet Livingstone, 237;

his thoughts on happiness, 237, 238;

on slanderous gossip, 239;

on change from boy to man, 240;

in Spain, 240-244;

his application to duty, 243, 244.

Is commissioned by Mr. Bennett to search for Livingstone, 245;

at the opening of the Suez Canal, 245;

in Egypt, at Jerusalem, at Constantinople, and in the

Caucasus, 245, 246;

on Rev. Dr. Harman, 246;

sees the Carnival at Odessa, 247;

in the East, 247-249;

arrives at Zanzibar, 250;

starts from Zanzibar in search of Livingstone, 251, 252;

reads Bible and newspapers in wilds of Africa, 252-255;

his feeling of tranquillity when in Africa, 255;

his ideas on being good-tempered in Africa, 256;

in Ugogo, 256;

in Unyanyembe, 257, 258;

hears of a grey-bearded man, 259;

pays heavy tribute to the natives, 259, 260;

sees Lake Tanganyika, 261, 262;

arrives at Ujiji, 262;

finds Livingstone, 263-267;

tells why Livingstone did not return of his own accord, 267-272;

leaves Ujiji, 273;

his observations on Livingstone’s character, 273-278, 281-284;

his parting from Livingstone, 279, 280;

his return home, 286.

Speaks before societies, 286, 287;

hostility to, 286-289;

received by Queen Victoria, 289-291;

lectures in England and America, 291;

accompanies campaign against the Ashantees, 291-295;

on Lord Wolseley, 294;

Lord Wolseley on, 294;

feelings at news of death of Livingstone, 295, 296;

conception of plan to explore Africa, 295-298.

Makes preparations in Zanzibar, 298, 299;

proceeds inland, 299-301;

his camp attacked, 302-304;

arrives at the Victoria Nyanza, 305;

circumnavigates the Victoria Nyanza and Lake Tanganyika, 305-319;

traces the Lualaba (Congo), 318-330;

aims to introduce civilisation into Africa, 333, 334;

his work of opening up the Congo, 335-339;

and Ngalyema, 339-342;

his manner of dealing with the natives, 342-346;

and his subordinates, 344-351;

his answer to those who regarded him as ‘hard,’ 346-351;

his virility of purpose, 351;

called ‘Breaker of Rocks,’ 352.

Undertakes to lead the Emin Relief Expedition, 354;

starts on the expedition, 355;

forms Advance Column, 355, 356;

on the march, 356-359;

reaches the Albert Nyanza, 359;

constructs a

fort at Ibwiri, 360;

discovers Emin, 361;

his impression of Emin, 362;

goes in search of the Rear-Column, 362;

his discovery of the Rear-Column, 363, 364;

returns to Fort Bodo, 364-367;

returns to the Albert Nyanza, 367;

commences homeward journey, 370;

discovers the Albert Edward Nyanza, 370, 371;

sees the Mountains of the Moon, 371;

reaches the Indian Ocean, 372;

enlightened as to the true character of Emin, 373, 374;

results of his expedition, 375;

his letter on the conduct of Englishmen in Africa, 376, 377;

Sir George Grey’s letter on his work on the Relief Expedition, 378, 379.

Expects implicit obedience from his subordinates, 380;

his descriptions of his subordinates, 381-383;

lives alone while in Africa, 383, 384, 386;

on the white man in Africa, 384, 385;

accused of being ‘hard,’ 385;

his manner of life while in Africa, 386-388;

his thoughts while in Africa, 388, 389;

Low’s estimate of his work in Africa, 392-404;

on his intellectual power, 396, 397;

a leader of men, 397;

on the criticisms of his methods, 398;

his character, 399, 402, 403;

his religious beliefs, 399;

as an administrator and organiser, 399, 400;

effects on his health of the Emin Expedition, 401;

in the last fourteen years of his life, 401, 402;

his personal appearance, 402;

Sir William Garstin’s estimate of the importance

of his discoveries, 404, 405;

his master-passion, that of a civiliser, not of

a discoverer, 405-407;

had no pecuniary interest in Africa, 407, 408.

On the charm of the Great Forest, 409;

his return to civilisation, 409, 410;

writes his book, _In Darkest Africa_, 411, 412;

goes to Brussels and is received by the King of Belgium, 412;

Grand Crosses conferred on him, 412;

discusses African affairs with the King of Belgium, 413-417;

arrives in England, 418;

his reception in England, 419;

his interview with Gladstone, 419-421;

his refutation of the charge that he used slaves, 421, 422;

_In Darkest Africa_ published, 422;

stirs up societies to see that Germany does not

absorb too much of East Africa, 422;

married, 423;

meets Sir Richard F. Burton in the Engadine, 423;

meets Camperio and Casati, 424;

the guest of King Leopold at Ostend, 424;

given degrees, 424, 425;

visits America on a lecturing tour, 425;

travels over the United States and Canada, 425-428;

dines at the Press Club, New York, 426;

newspaper comments on his personal appearance, 426;

visits New Orleans, 426, 427;

feels lack of freedom, 427, 428;

returns to England, 428;

lectures in England, 429;

longs for rest, 429, 432;

his reading, 429;

on the Welsh language, 430;

his reception at Carnarvon, 431;

on Canterbury, 432, 433;

visits Switzerland, 433;

breaks his ankle, 434;

visits King Leopold at Ostend, 434;

his visit to Australia, etc., 434-438;

letter to, from Sir George Grey, 436, 437.

Consents to become candidate for Parliament, 439;

defeated, 439;

his speeches on second candidacy, 440-442;

his disgust at electioneering methods, 443, 444;

on Beauregard, Lee, and Grant, 445;

on Mackinnon and the East African Company, 446-449;

on East Anglia and Yarmouth, 450-452;

on Norwich, 452;

his enjoyment of solitude by the sea, 453;

on the Matabele War, 454, 455;

on a coal-strike, 455;

on W. T. Stead, 455, 456;

on the destruction of the slave-trade in Africa, 457, 458;

on Lowell’s _Letters_, 458, 459, 461;

on A. L. Bruce, 459, 460;

on Sir S. W. Baker, 462, 463;

goes to the Isle of Wight, 463;

at the Hills-Johnes’, 464;

begins his _Autobiography_, 465;

elected to Parliament, 466, 467;

first impressions of the House, 467-472;

impressions of the speakers, 472-476;

on obstructive tactics, 476, 477;

gives his maiden speech, 478-480;

on the Venezuelan affair, 482;

his love for his son, 483, 485, 486;

frequently ill from malaria and gastritis, 483-485.

Leaves for South Africa, 485;

his views on South African affairs, 486-489;

his description of Krüger, 489-499;

feels contempt for England for not acting

with more decision in South Africa, 469-499;

on Ladysmith as a camp, 499, 500;

presides at Lyall’s lecture, 501;

views of England’s lack of decisiveness, 501;

disgusted with the Parliamentary methods, 502, 504, 505;

on the speakers, 503;

on South African affairs, 503, 504;

has little influence in Parliament, 504, 505;

leaves Parliament, 505;

looks for a house in the country, 506;

buys Furze Hill, 506, 507;

life at Furze Hill, 507, 508;

created G. C. B., 508;

how he was misunderstood, 508, 509;

his story of the little black baby, 509;