were twenty-three reporters present, picked men of the great newspapers
of New York, Philadelphia, Boston, and Chicago. One of the best-known
men, Mr. Balch, was chosen to direct the questions. My rooms were
packed. The men were all keen set and full of the historical
significance, too, of their opportunity. Stanley seated himself,
smiling, and for three hours submitted to an intellectual ordeal which
was simply astounding. The interviewers, with ample time to look up the
issues, were prepared with keen questions, and, as he answered, others
were called out on every side. Balch, an able man, declared it was a
wonderful exhibition of knowledge and will power. “Stanley,” he said,
“was the best witness I ever saw. He was armed at all points, and
answered without a moment’s hesitancy, never once crossing himself in
the slightest degree.”
During the latter part of the scene various gentlemen who had come to
call on Mr. Stanley, among them Charles A. Dana and Murat Halstead,
stood in the open hallway of my office, listening to the remarkable
proceeding, and admiring the skill and power of the man who sat there
with lighted eyes, animated features, and a live brain that burned
through every movement and lighted up every word he uttered.
The first Stanley lecture in New York in 1890 was a remarkable event.
The interest was made greatly more active by publication on Friday, the
7th of November, of the remarkable series of interviews of which mention
has been made. But no one anticipated its tremendous character. The
gross receipts were $17,800. Such a jam never was known before, and the
carriage crush about the building was almost beyond police control. The
lecture originally announced was “The Relief of Emin Pasha.” At Mrs.
Stanley’s suggestion, “The March through the Forest” was chosen, which
brought in the story of the pygmies and other remarkable discoveries
made.
The tour that followed this entrée was like the march of a triumphal
hero. Our evenings after the lecture were delightful, and the daily
intercourse so long continued was personally maintained without a jar or
break of any sort. I found Mr. Stanley not only strictly honorable in
business matters, but generous also. When for a brief period business
was bad, he showed a marked disposition to make matters more even,
though there was no necessity whatever, taking the tour as a whole, to
make any change in the agreement made in London. Perhaps the most
striking feature of the engagement was, so far as concerns Mr. Stanley,
the remarkable fidelity that he gave to the work he had undertaken. He
was constantly remoulding, polishing, and improving the lectures during
the tour.
Stanley is one of the most conscientious men I ever knew. While in
Boston, after we had been about a week on the tour, the weather was fine
and there was beautiful sleighing. Mrs. Stanley and the ladies of our
party had come in from a delightful sleigh ride which some friends had
tendered. They all looked so rosy and fresh, beaming with delight as
they stepped from the sleigh, that we agreed then and there that Mr.
Stanley really should lay aside his writing and take a sleigh ride too,
behind that spanking four-horse team, and hear the jingle of the
hundreds of sleigh bells. I said, “He must come and enjoy it.” Mrs.
Stanley said, “Let’s you and I go fetch him.”
We rushed up to his room; he was working on his lecture, making some
changes, when Mrs. Stanley, with cheeks like roses and charged with
oxygen of the outdoor atmosphere, threw her fur-clad arms about his
neck, saying: “O, Bulle-me-tal-ie (the name he is known by in Africa),
come and have a ride and breathe the most delicious air under heaven. Do
come; it will do you so much good and help you for to-night.”
After listening to Mrs. Stanley’s eloquent pleadings a moment or two, he
rose from his seat and said to me:
“Major Pond, you are paying me a fabulous sum for my nightly services.
Now it is my duty to do the best I can. If you say you are satisfied
with my work as it now is, I will stop and go for a drive.”
I could not answer his argument, and he did not take the sleigh ride.
From the start until the finish, one hundred and ten lectures, Stanley
showed signs of steady improvement. He was good at the start, but
shortly became a fine speaker and then a better speaker, and before he
had finished he was the best descriptive speaker I ever heard. He had
overcome difficulties that would discourage any other man; as Casati
wrote of him (Casati, ten years with Emin Pasha in Africa): “Jealous of
his own authority, Stanley will not tolerate interference, neither will
he take the advice of any one. Difficulties do not discourage him,
neither does failure frighten him, as with extraordinary celerity of
perception he finds his way out of every embarrassment.”
Henry M. Stanley was never fond of company. He appreciates friends, and
those who know him intimately are very fond of him. He is generally
cautious and sparing of words, especially when strangers are about.
Receptions and dinners worry him, as he cannot bear being on exhibition
under showers of forced compliments. His manners and habits are those of
a gentleman. He shows great fondness for children, especially young
lads, who often approach him for his autograph. He will enter into
conversation with them and question them as to their purposes in life,
advising them as to the importance of honesty and character as essential
to success in life, and generally concluding with some incident in his
experience that is sure to make a lasting impression. In our private
car, where we lived for three months, were Mr. and Mrs. Stanley, Mrs.
Tennant, Mrs. Pond and her sister, and often some visiting friends.
Stanley would entertain us night after night with incidents of his
wonderful experience that would make a far more interesting book than he
has yet written. His best sayings have been spoken in private. Mrs.
Stanley, being a brilliant conversationalist, had the happy faculty of
bringing out his most interesting points.
Stanley is one of the best-read men I have ever met. He is familiar with
the histories of all civilized and uncivilized peoples. As a journalist
he is appreciated by reporters and interviewers more highly than any man
I ever knew except Mr. Beecher. Never did he refuse to see a
representative of the press who sent up his card. If busy, he would say:
“Please make my compliments to the gentleman and say that as soon as I
am disengaged I will be pleased to see him.”
Altogether, I have never parted with a client with greater regret, or
found one holding me in bonds of friendship and respect to so great a
degree. Sir Henry Stanley does me the honor to regard me as a friend,
and I am constantly indebted to him, and to Lady Stanley also, for
delightful correspondence. Some extracts from the many letters in my
possession will illustrate the value of the views expressed and the
soundness of a judgment which has been almost wholly verified by events.
I present without apology the extracts which follow.
A capital letter from the Richmond Terrace (London) home, under date of
October 2, 1892, is of interest because of its description of
electioneering in England:
* * * * *
“I am pledged,” he writes, “to many things in the coming time--the
contest at North Lambeth again, Bible Society, Missionary and
anti-Slavery meetings, keeping up the Uganda question before the public,
stimulating and comforting the Directors, and trivial things of this
kind. They absorb time and keep a man from stagnating, and perhaps a
modicum of good is extracted from the whole.
“As regards the election, I fear on your side they do not understand
anything about it. I sometimes see the cablegrams sent over from here,
and I do not wonder that you are all misled. I was asked at the last
moment to stand; there were only nine clear days for work and to get
made known among 7,300 electors, to get offices, posters, pamphlets, and
canvassers, and that entailed an amount of work that was appalling. My
opponent had been at work three years, nursing the constituency; I had
only nine days. The results were that I was defeated by 130. Of course,
the usual lying was resorted to. They can lie here with as much
disregard to future torments as in New York, and they have introduced
largely pernicious systems from America, which I know the Americans
would gladly extinguish if they knew how. Added to these, the lower
classes have something which is peculiarly their own: a noisy, brutal
disposition which must relieve itself by pounding or breaking something,
while the intolerance they display toward their opponents is wholly
unknown in America. When this temper is at the hottest, women go down
before the brawny fist like sheep in the shambles, and bald heads often
get seriously cracked. I used to think that England was a country of
order and that only at Donnybrook would you meet with such scenes as I
have witnessed. There is no attempt at order, there is no policeman
present to preserve it. Only might is respected--clubs and arms. The
doors are thrown open to all--the radical candidate seeks for a strong
force of roughs by whom, when the Unionist presents himself, he is
greeted with a continuous uproar. If he persists in speaking, the mob
advances and ‘_ware_’ heads then. This, in short, is politics at its
worst over here, but homicide is much rarer than with you.”
* * * * *
A London letter of May 31, 1894, gives a still more vividly interesting
account of electioneering methods. Mr. Stanley writes:
* * * * *
“I see that you scarcely comprehend what the term electioneering means
in England. It would be impossible for a candidate to absent himself
from his constituency for any longer period than the national holidays.
He must hold himself ready for any request from any of his supporters
every day between the hours of 10 A.M. and 10 P.M. He, in the mean time,
must visit every house in the borough (7,200 houses in mine) to try to
make the acquaintance of every voter and of some member of his family.
He must contribute not only his services as patron (chairman, supporter
of numberless charities, meetings), but funds as well, whenever
solicited. But more than that, he must hold himself ready to exchange
his services with those of fellow-candidates in the country. These
various duties which fall upon the candidate must be performed
cheerfully and with good will, otherwise it will be charged to him that
he is indifferent to the cause and to the public he has affected to
serve. I have as many as eighty visits in a day, and if you will only
take the trouble to calculate you will find that to visit 7200 voters
requires a large number of days, and as visits can only be made in the
intervals between public functions of great variety, not more than 200 a
week can be expected from the most active. You may fairly say that it
requires a year’s steady work to get through an ordinary constituency.
Then, you know the failing of the public is to forget your face and
name, and to keep them in mind you will have to begin again and continue
what is called the ‘musing.’ I need not say more. You will see why a
candidate cannot absent himself for more than a fortnight or so from the
duties he has undertaken, and I think your letter is thus fairly
answered. We are waiting to hear the sound of the trumpet to enter the
lists. It may be heard any day, and we are on the tiptoe of
expectation.”
* * * * *
From Richmond Terrace, under date of June 19, 1896, came an interesting
letter which refers in the beginning to the death, then recent, of the
late Colonel Thomas Knox. Stanley writes:
* * * * *
“I had been much impressed by the aged appearance of Knox, but I did not
expect so soon to hear of his death. He was a fine genial man, of grand
appearance, and I always thought a dinner table enriched by his
appearance. I am exceedingly sorry, for New York is the poorer for his
loss--for there is one friend less to me.... But it is thus we drop away
one by one.
“How suddenly that Venezuela business broke upon England! I had been
prepared for it by my visit to the States, and I had clipped dozens of
newspaper articles bearing upon the subject while I was over there.
About ten days after my arrival here I was visited by the manager of one
of the principal newspapers here, and asked what I thought of the
Eastern question, and I had answered that I was not much interested in
it, as I was interested in the squall brewing in the West. He asked me
what I referred to, and I replied that we might expect a terrific
explosion presently from America in regard to the Venezuela dispute. He
was astonished, for he had not heard of it. I then gave him my clippings
for his editor to study and prepare himself. Sixteen days after, the
storm burst, taking England all aback.
“Now, on this Venezuela subject, I am entirely on the side of America,
but I must admit I am not surprised that the English papers backed up
Lord Salisbury and differed from me. Taught by the virulent remarks of
your journals I had, of course, devoted much time to understanding it,
whereas English editors were exceptionally ill-informed about the
matter. There are two or three injudicious remarks in Olney’s despatch
which put British backs up, but after reflection it is wonderful how
many have come round to my opinion--that, whatever the transgressions of
Olney may be, there is a great deal of justice in the American demand. I
feel quite sure, now that so much is admitted, it will not be long
before the opinion becomes general that we were in the wrong in refusing
arbitration, while the more I think of Olney’s despatch, the more
impressed I am that Olney could scarcely have written otherwise than he
did. For I argue that had he contented himself with the usual suave tone
of diplomacy he would not have succeeded in rousing the attention of the
nation to the necessity of settlement. His despatch would have lain
quietly in the archives of the Foreign Office, whereas now every
Englishman knows sufficient of the subject to distinguish right from
wrong; and while there is still a majority who take the despatch to be
an affront to British dignity, there is a minority increasing in numbers
who think that British honor would be consulted by considering the
justice due to Venezuela, and that British interests would be promoted
by acquiescing with the American demand.
“But that all your journalists were wrong in assuming that we in this
country entertained any other feeling than that of true affection for
the Americans has been conclusively proved by the different receptions
accorded the President’s message and the German Emperor’s telegrams to
Kruger. On reading the first our people were simply astonished and
grieved, but the other roused the war feeling from the Hebrides to the
Channel Islands. I have never witnessed anything like it in England
before. It was entirely unexpected from one whom we had made so much of.
It was premeditated, also, and this is what enraged us. No one could
conceive what business it was of Germany’s to interfere with our
Protectorate, nor how we had given any one a reason to suppose that,
because Jameson had been so mad, we were so lost to all sense of honor
and justice as not to be willing to do what was right in the case. It
will be a long time before we forgive Germany, you may rest assured, and
every act of hers for years to come will be viewed with great suspicion.
Personally, I do not know which was maddest, Jameson’s ride for the
gold mines of Johannesburg or the Emperor William’s attempt on the
Protectorate of the Transvaal. Both were foolish.”
* * * * *
He closed this interesting letter with his always pleasant compliments
and messages for my family.
From Argelus-Gazoust, France, under date of August 5, 1898, in response
to a letter suggesting a lecture on Anglo-Saxon relations, Stanley
replies:
* * * * *
“Yes, I quite agree with you that we have numerous highly endowed
members of Parliament who would like to have the opportunity to address
American audiences upon the Anglo-American alliance, or any other
subject, but you see the faculty of orating is born with them; they
can’t help it. Whereas with me it is different. I can’t speak unless I
have something to say and the time to say what is imposed upon me has
come.
“Now, with regard to this Anglo-American alliance. It is a good thing
and a natural thing for both nations to come together and shake hands
and make a league of friendship. But the necessity for that is not
imperative for either side. England is at peace with all the world,
though she frets herself now and then. America has her enemy at her
mercy, and nobody is going to interfere with her. Where is the need for
the hurry? Then, naturally, having passed the impressionable period of
my life in America--and born in Britain, having an English wife and
home--I feel able to see a trifle clearer than some of those who are all
American or all English. I have not a particle of prejudice, though my
duty lies on this side. My opinion is we must not be too precipitate.
The two nations are gravitating together. True friendship cannot be
forced, but is a slow process, requiring time. There are many Americans
who have not even thought of the subject, there are English who cannot
entertain the idea. If such people are spoken to about the alliance they
are apt to say things neither kindly American nor kindly English would
like to hear.
“No! Wisdom suggests we leave the feeling to grow and solidify. If
either country was in distress, that would be the proper time to breathe
more life into that spirit of kinship and kindliness which we know
exists, and bring the reserved and proud peoples together, but to-day
there is no necessity for either nation to think particularly about the
matter. One is fat and proud with its Bank of England and big navy, the
other is in a quiver of delight over Manila, and Santiago, and the
heroes--Dewey, Schley, and Shafter. The time is not suitable for
speaking of alliances. If you Americans will come out of that Continent
and take your share of the Old World’s concerns, you will know better
what is meant by alliances. Were I not in a dreadful hurry and every
member of the family impatiently waiting for me, I could relate some
curious thoughts of mine about that matter, but I am not allowed to form
one connected sentence in peace. I cannot offer myself for the Lyceum
this term.”
* * * * *
A fair picture, certainly, this of Ulysses the wanderer with the distaff
in hand.
Under date of February 6, 1899, the day before Parliament was to meet,
Sir Henry writes that, looking round for arrearages of work, his eyes
caught sight of my 1899 letter.
* * * * *
“The year 1899 is starting so smoothly in England that the blank page
might serve for a news letter. We have long ago calmed down about the
mad French attempt on the Upper Nile, and we are so interested in the
Czar’s Peace Circular that we relaxed our attention to Russian misdoing
in China. With Germany we have no question, and America has civilly
refrained from twisting our Lion’s tail. Old Kruger is probably more
concerned with his personal infirmities and the Colonists are following
their usually orderly habits, so that all around 1899 promises to be
very quiet with us.”
* * * * *
This was a promise that events soon proved was easily broken, but even
Stanley could not foresee the sharp awakening for England as well as
ourselves. He proceeds:
* * * * *
“I wish I could feel your prospects are also as satisfactory. I don’t
know what you think of it, but it seems to me this Imperialism is going
to prove costly and disturbing to America, and her well-wishers are in
doubt whether it be wise in her to take upon herself the task of
regenerating the Philippines. If you don’t mind the expense and bother
of reforming these barbarians and making them orderly, we will not do
more than wish you well through the self-imposed task.”
* * * * *
Under date of November 24, 1899, Sir Henry M. Stanley replied to a
letter of mine wherein, at the suggestion of an experienced editorial
friend, I had pointed out to him the value of a short lecture tour in
the United States, during which no man could with such authority as
himself point out to the American people the situation in South Africa.
My adviser very strongly urged the fact that the views of Sir Henry M.
Stanley would not only greatly affect opinion here, but would tend
largely to extend his influence as a statesman in his own country.
Stanley illustrates his own modesty by ignoring _in toto_ my suggestion,
and then thus frankly criticises the British-Boer situation at the date
of his writing:
* * * * *
“We are not doing so well in the Transvaal as I expected, but everything
proves to me how really necessary it was that the evil humors which had
been gathering for the last nineteen years should come to a head and be
boldly dealt with. It proves, also, how remiss we have been in thus
delaying in considering the Transvaal matters as serious. No people on
earth are so averse to war as we are, and so prone to be guided by
goody-goody sentiment. Being rich, prosperous, and contented, we seem to
forget that all people are not so happy, and accordingly fail to provide
against other people’s discontent with us.
“This sunny belief in the power of sentiment will certainly be our bane
some day. From sentiment we left our African frontiers unprotected; we
left our garrisons in Natal open to an enemy that has been breathing
nothing but threats for ever so long; from sentiment we left the
Afrikander Bund to make its preparations, diffuse its opinions, and
conspire to oust us from South Africa; from sentiment we allow Kruger to
build his forts, arm his people with cannon and Mausers, and, naturally,
when everything is ready for the crisis for which Kruger has been
preparing, we profess to be surprised that Natal and Cape Colony have
been invaded, and that the Boers have been able to present such a bold
front to us.
“That war itself and the small disasters we have met are the penalties
we pay for the belief we profess that all men can be persuaded by reason
or soothed by sentiment. By all means profess as loudly as you may the
very best of sentiments toward people with whom you desire to be on
amicable terms, but don’t forget that human beings are not angels or
children, to be restrained by sentiment alone. If you have interests, no
amount of sentiment will protect them, especially when they lie so
temptingly close to another race. That is a paraphrase of the old
saying: ‘Pray to God, but keep your powder dry.’ We have prayed both to
God and the Boer, but in most reprehensible fashion we have forgotten
all about the powder.
“What is going to happen to us if we continue to be thus neglectful of
the commonest precautions? Heaven only knows. In England we are so given
to the cultivation of beautiful phrases and logic that no one of the
simple kind can hope to have simple truths listened to. Our newspaper
leaders are written in such Johnsonian-Gladstonese that plain people
pass them over as being ‘grand,’ but they are scarcely understood by the
many. In admiration of the sound we have lost the sense, and the direct,
simple English has no chance in these libretto days.
“In other ways we are also degenerate. Fancy ten thousand English
soldiers, willing to be led anywhere, remaining penned up in that hollow
of Ladysmith by a force of say even twenty thousand raw Boer militia! It
is all of a piece with that grand strategic genius which chose a hollow
for the South African Aldershot, with not even an intrenchment until it
was too late.”
* * * * *
The following is a characteristic and forcible presentation of opinions
which he of all men has the right to express:
* * * * *
“FURZE HILL, PERBRIGHT, SURREY, October 10, 1899.
“MY DEAR MAJOR: Your introduction of Mr. Howland has resulted, as you
are probably aware, in the publication of an article in his magazine
(_The Outlook_) on Anglo-Saxon Responsibilities. I have just seen it,
and though it was written before the Transvaal crisis became acute,
subsequent facts have, I think, borne my hints out.
“The above is my present address, where I am simply roughing it, owing
to the chaos prevailing inside and out. I am therefore in no condition
for writing a letter for the public eye, as you yourself would be the
first to admit if you could see my surroundings. Besides, I cannot see
the object of interesting the public in anything just now, and the
Anglo-Saxon relations are the topic of a thousand pens more or less
capable of instructing everybody who can read or think. Whether we shall
fight or not depends upon Kruger. He alone has it in his power to stay
the storm, but whether he will use that power or not, no one--probably
not Kruger even--can say. My opinion of Kruger differs from almost
every writer in the fact that I say he is a confirmed ass, or if you
prefer the true meaning of it--an obstinate old fool.