Читать книгу Stanley's Story; Or, Through the Wilds of Africa - A. G. Col. Feather - Страница 12

Table of Contents

His Nativity — Early Life — Comes to America — His Adoption by a New Orleans Merchant — His Career during the Civil War — Becomes Correspondent of the New York “Herald” — Sails for the Island of Crete to enlist in the cause of the Cretans, then at war — But changes his mind on arriving there — Instead Undertakes a journey through Asia Minor, the Provinces of Russian Asia, etc. — Attacked and plundered by Turkish Brigands — Relieved by Hon. E. Joy Morris, the American Minister — Goes to Egypt; to Abyssinia — Remarkable success there — His sudden call to Paris from Madrid by Mr. Bennett, of the “Herald” — Account of the Interview — Mr. Stanley goes to find Livingstone in command of the “Herald’s” Livingstone Expedition.

The subject of our sketch was born near Denbigh, Wales, in 1840. His parents’ name was Rowland. At three years of age he was sent to the poor-house at St. Asaph, to get an education. He, the poor, unpromising lad, remained until he had finished such an education as this institution could furnish, and then sought employment as teacher; and for a year was employed as such at Mold, Flintshire. But it was then that the strong instincts of his nature began to show themselves. He felt that a school-teacher’s life, however honorable and useful, could not be his, and with his scant earnings shipped as a cabin-boy in a ship bound for New Orleans. Arriving in safety, he began to look about for employment. By what lucky chance it happened we do not know, but he fell into the hands of a merchant named Stanley, who became so attached to the frank, energetic, ambitious youth that he finally adopted him and gave him his name. Thus the Welsh boy Rowland became the American youth Stanley. Fortune had certainly smiled upon him, and his future seemed secure.

But in his case, as in that of hundreds of others, the fate of war stepped in to mar his fair prospects at this stage of his career. The outbreak of the Rebellion led him into the ranks of the Southern Confederacy; but only for a brief period. He was taken a prisoner by the Union forces, and shortly thereafter, upon taking the oath of allegiance, was released on parole. As the Union cause really had his sympathies, he at once proposed to enlist in the Northern army. But whether the military authorities were afraid of this sudden conversion, or not daring to give too much freedom of action to one who showed by his whole bearing and language that there was no undertaking too daring for him to attempt, we are not told; but they put him, however, where he would probably have little chance to show what stuff he was made of—on board of the iron-clad ship Ticonderoga, he consenting to volunteer in the navy. Though totally unfit for service of any kind on board of a man-of-war, he soon became an acting ensign. At the close of the war he looked about for some field of active service, and what little war he had seen seemed to fit his peculiar character. Hearing that the Cretans were about to attempt to throw off the Turkish yoke, he resolved to join them. He proceeded to that country in company with two other adventurous spirits in 1866, after having first made an engagement with the New York “Herald” as its correspondent. But upon arriving at his destination he found occasion to become displeased with the leaders of the revolution, and declined to volunteer in the army of the famous little island.

AN ARAB COURIER

“His chief recommendation at this time,” says a great journal, “was his energy and industry and fearlessness in collecting facts, not the style in which he told them; for although he had previously shown some indications of literary ability, his pen was as yet neither practiced nor fluent.” His energy, industry and fearlessness were doubtless better appreciated in the “Herald” office than by the general public; but his reputation as a writer grew with time, and he constantly performed his correspondential duties to the satisfaction of his experienced employers.

It appears that he had a sort of roving commission from the “Herald,” and now undertook a journey on foot with a few traveling companions of his own country, by which it was contemplated to pass through Asia Minor, the provinces of Russian Asia, the Khanates, Bokhara, and Kiva, Eastern Turkestan, and so through China to the coast. This project came, however, to a disastrous end. The little party had not penetrated more than about an hundred miles from Smyrna, when it was attacked by Turkish brigands, completely plundered, and compelled, in consequence, to return. Arriving at Constantinople in a most sorry plight, the members of the party were kindly received by the Hon. E. Joy Morris, then United States Minister to the Turkish Sultan, and their wants supplied by a check upon the generous Minister’s private banker. An account of the affair, written by Mr. Stanley, had appeared in a public journal of the country, so that Mr. Morris had been apprised of the facts—afterwards fully substantiated in a court of justice—before the travelers appeared, in shabby attire, attesting a needy situation.

On the return of Mr. Stanley to Constantinople, a few years after this event, and during the last year of Mr. Morris’ official residence in Turkey, he called upon that gentleman. He had then just come from Egypt. We here give Mr. Morris’ description of Stanley, in his own words:

“The uncouth young man whom I first knew had grown into a perfect man of the world, possessing the appearance, the manners and the attributes of a perfect gentleman. The story of the adventures which he had gone through, and the dangers he had passed during his absence were perfectly marvellous, and he became the lion of our little circle. Scarcely a day passed but he was a guest at my table; and no one was more welcome, for I insensibly grew to have a strong admiration and felt an attachment for him myself. Instead of thinking he was a young man who had barely seen twenty-six summers you would imagine that he was thirty-five or forty years of age, so cultured and learned was he in all the ways of life. He possessed a thorough acquaintance with most of the Eastern countries, and, as I took an interest in all that related to Oriental life, we had many a talk about what he had seen and what I longed to see. He stated to me that he had a sort of roving commission for the ‘Herald,’ but that he had exhausted all known countries, and was at a loss to understand where he should go next. I said to him, ‘Stanley, what do you think of trying Persia? That is an unexplored country, and would well repay a visit, if you could get back with your life.’ Stanley thought over the proposal, and rapidly came to the conclusion he would go. I busied myself in procuring him letters of introduction to the Russian authorities in the Caucasus, in Georgia, and in other countries through which he would have to pass. He saw the Russian Ambassador at Constantinople in person, who was so well impressed with him that he made extra exertions to facilitate his progress to the mysterious home of the Grand Llama. I had some time previous to this had a Henry rifle sent me from a friend in New York, as a specimen of American art, and this I presented to Stanley, with my best wishes for the success of his undertaking. He started on the desperate enterprise some time after, and my table thereby lost one of its most entertaining guests. When I say desperate enterprise I mean it, for Persia is to a European a practically unexplored country; and in consequence of its weak government and the marauders with which it abounds, a journey to Zanzibar or Unyanyembe would be a safe trip compared to it. How Mr. Stanley accomplished the task he undertook the columns of the ‘Herald’ will tell. I received a letter from him, while on the way, narrating the hospitable manner in which he had been entertained by the Russian authorities, and the way in which he had astonished them by the performances of his Henry rifle. His journey through the Caucasus and Georgia was a sort of triumphal march, though he was looked upon as a lost man by all who knew anything of the East. The route he took was an entirely new one, as he went in a kind of zigzag way to Thibet, and he must have a charmed life to have come through so much peril in complete safety.”

EQUIPPED FOR WAR.

A considerable portion of the year 1868 was spent by Mr. Stanley in Abyssinia, where he accompanied the British expedition against King Theodore. He went with the English army as far as Magadla, and upon several occasions was enabled to transmit accounts of the expedition, embracing most important news, to the “Herald” in advance of intelligence sent to the British government. The people of America were thus supplied with intelligence of this singular British foray in northeastern Africa in advance of the people of England. These remarkable successes in Abyssinia were highly appreciated by the “Herald,” and considerably enhanced the correspondent’s abilities and services in the special line he was working upon. And it was no doubt the signal ability thus displayed which led the younger Bennett to choose this man for his purpose when he had decided to send an expedition after Livingstone.

The account of the interview and the incidents leading to it between James Gordon Bennett, Jr., and Mr. Stanley are exceedingly interesting, as given in the words of Mr. Stanley himself. He was at the time in Madrid, Spain, October 16th, 1869. At 10 o’clock A. M. he was handed a telegram, which read: “Come to Paris on important business,” and bore the signature of James Gordon Bennett, Jr., then the young manager of the “Herald.”

“Down come my pictures from the walls of my apartments on the second floor; into my trunks go my books and souvenirs; my clothes are hastily collected, some half-washed, some from the clothes-line half-dry, and after a couple of hours of hasty hard work my portmanteaus are strapped up and labelled for Paris.

“The express train leaves Madrid for Hendaye at 3 P. M. I have yet time to say farewell to my friends. I have one at No. 6 Calle Goya, fourth floor, who happens to be a contributor to several London dailies. He has several children in whom I have taken a warm interest. Little Charlie and Willie are fast friends of mine; they love to hear of my adventures, and it has been a pleasure to me to talk to them. But now I must say farewell.

“Then I have friends at the American Legation whose conversation I admire. There has come a sudden ending of it all. ‘I hope you will write to us. We shall always be glad to hear of your welfare.’ How often have I not during my feverish life as a flying journalist heard the very same words, and how often have I not suffered the same pang at parting from friends just as warm as these.

“But a journalist in my position must needs suffer. Like a gladiator in the arena, he must be prepared for the combat. Any flinching, any cowardice, and he is lost. The gladiator meets the sword that is sharpened for his bosom—the flying journalist or roving correspondent meets the command that may send him to his doom. To the battle or the banquet it is ever the same—‘Get ready and go.’

“At 3 P. M. I was on my way, and being obliged to stop at Bayonne a few hours, did not arrive at Paris until the following night. I went straight to the Grand Hotel, and knocked at the door of Mr. Bennett’s room.

“‘Come in,’ I heard a voice say.

“Entering, I found Mr. Bennett in bed.

“‘Who are you?’ he asked.

“‘My name is Stanley,’ I answered.

“‘Ah, yes; sit down. I have important business on hand for you.’”

After throwing over his shoulders his robe-de-chambre, Mr. Bennett proceeded to ask Stanley, “Where do you think Livingstone is?”

“I really do not know, sir,” answered Stanley.

“Do you think he is alive?” continued Bennett.

“He may be, and he may not be,” replied Stanley.

“Well, I think he is alive, and that he can be found, and I am going to send you to find him,” was Bennett’s rejoinder.

“What!” said Stanley. “Do you really think I can find Dr. Livingstone? Do you mean me to go to Central Africa?”

“Yes; I mean that you shall go and find him, wherever you may hear that he is, and to get what news you can of him, and perhaps”—delivering himself thoughtfully and deliberately—“the old man may be in want. Take enough with you to help him, should he require it. Of course you will act according to your own plans, and do what you think best—but find Livingstone!”

“Have you considered seriously the great expense you are likely to incur on account of this little journey?” suggested Stanley, wondering at the cool order of sending one to Central Africa to search for a man whom he, in common with almost all other men, believed to be dead.