“The Mafilte instantly came on to fight; there was no parley, no avoidance of the combat; they came on with a rush, with war cries and rattling on their shields their spears. As Livingstone and his party raised their pieces their onset was for a moment checked, but only for a moment. Livingstone fired and two Zulus were shot dead (his boys fired too but their fire was harmless); he was in the act of reloading when three Mafilte leaped upon him through the smoke. There was no resistance—there could be none—and one cruel axe cut from behind him put him out of life. He fell, and when he fell his terror stricken escort fled, hunted by the Mafilte. One? at least of the fugitives escaped; and he, the eye-witness, it is who tells the tale—Ali Moosa, chief of his escort of porters.

“The party had left the western shores of Nyassa about five days. They had started from Kompoonda, on the lake’s borders (they left the havildar of Sepoys there dying of dysentery; Livingstone had dismissed the other Sepoys of the Bombay Twenty-first at Mataka), and had rested at Marenga, where Livingstone was cautioned not to advance. The next station was Mahlivoora; they were traversing a flat country, broken by small hills, and abundantly wooded.

“Indeed, the scene of the tragedy so soon to be consummated would appear to have been an open forest glade. Livingstone, as usual, led the way, his nine or ten unpractised musketeers at his heels. Ali Moosa had nearly come up with them, having left his own Johanna men resting with their loads far in the rear. Suddenly he heard Livingstone warn the boys that the Ma-zitus were coming. The boys in turn beckoned Moosa to press forward. Moosa saw the crowd here and there between the trees.

“He had just gained the party and sunk down behind a tree to deliver his own fire when his leader fell. Moosa fled for his life along the path he had come. Meeting his Johanna men, who threw down their loads and in a body really passed Moosa, his escape and that of his party verges on the marvelous. However, at sunset, they, in great fear, left their forest refuge, and got back to the place where they hoped to find their baggage. It was gone, and then with increasing dread they crept to where the slain traveler lay.

“Near him, in front, lay the grim Zulus who were killed under his sure aim; here and there lay scattered some four dead fugitives of the expedition. That one blow had killed him outright, he had no other wound but this terrible gash; it must have gone from their description, through the neck and spine up to the throat in front, and it had nearly decapitated him. Death came mercifully in its instant suddenness, for David Livingstone was ever ready.

“They found him stripped of his upper clothing, the Ma-zitus had respected him when dead. They dug with some stakes a shallow grave and hid from the starlight the stricken temple of a grand spirit—the body of an apostle, whose martyrdom should make sacred the shores of that sea which his labors made known to us, and which now, baptized with his life’s blood, men should henceforth know as ‘Lake Livingstone.’”

Dr. Seward added the following postscript to his despatch to the foreign office:

“The date of Dr. Livingstone’s death is left as much to conjecture as the place of his grave. All that we certainly know is that he was at Nyomano on the 18th of May last; that he proceeded to Mataka, whence he sent a despatch to this Consulate. From Mataka he is said to have made for and struck Nyassa, which he crossed; but where, or where Mataka is, cannot be ascertained. The runaway Reuben, with the Sepoys, states that Livingstone left Mataka a few days before they set out on their return journey to Zanzibar. They were one month and twenty days on the road to Keelwa, which they reached during the latter days of September. It may be inferred from this that Livingstone left Mataka about the middle of last July. The Johanna men named six weeks as the probable time of their return journey from Mapoonda to Keelwa with the slave caravan. The fight with the Zulus took place sixteen days before they set out. They reached Keelwa in November, Zanzibar the 6th of December. Roughly then, we may conjecture the death of their leader to have happened during September. The statements of our informants as to time, distance, and direction are distressingly vague and untrustworthy.”

The publication of this despatch at once created a profound sensation throughout the civilized world. There being no apparent reason to doubt the truthfulness of the story, it was quite universally accepted, and most men lamented the death of the great explorer with unfeigned sadness. The obituary notices which appeared in the public journals and proceedings of many learned bodies demonstrated the fame of Dr. Livingstone in a manner which will surely be exquisitely agreeable to him when he shall read the eulogiums, as, it is to be hoped, he may soon do. Dr. Kirk, of Zanzibar, who had, in former years, accompanied Dr. Livingstone in some of his explorations, gave the man Moosa a long and careful examination and cross-examination, and the longer he proceeded the more terrible the facts connected with Dr. Livingstone’s death appeared. A letter from him, generally published and quoted by all journals, seemed to leave the painful reports fully and abundantly confirmed. The world’s sorrow, therefore, expressed in every proper way, was, to all appearance, entirely reasonable.

Nevertheless, there were those who did not put their trust in Moosa’s story. Among these was Sir Roderick Murchison, whose reputation for sagacity in England was very high. So early as 1844, Sir Roderick had announced, from the examination of certain rocks brought to him for study, the existence of gold in Australia, and had vainly endeavored to enlist the aid of government in behalf of practically testing the question. We have seen that he correctly decyphered the general geological formation of central South Africa before the practical discovery of the fact by Livingstone. By these and other things of like nature, Sir Roderick had acquired the reputation of a prophet. He could give no special reason for his opinion, but he did not believe Moosa’s story of Livingstone’s death, and the fact of his want of faith in it made many suppose there might be ground for doubt after all. Sir Roderick was sustained in his doubts by Mr. E. D. Young, an African traveler of considerable experience who came forward and said that Ali Moosa belonged to a treacherous race. Suppose he had betrayed Dr. Livingstone, how else than by a cunningly-devised story of his death could he prevail upon the British consul to pay him. Here, at least, was a motive for the story, and it soon had many to believe in it. The consequence was a variety of conflicting reports and conflicting opinions, in the midst of which the Royal Geographical Society organized a search expedition and placed it under the charge of Mr. Young.

On the 8th of August, 1867, the little steel boat “Search,” Mr. Young in command, was pointed up the Zambesi river, under the most explicit and comprehensive instructions from the Geographical Society. At Shupanga, the grave of Mrs. Livingstone was visited, and such attention given it as was required. On the 4th of September, Mr. Young heard of a white man having been seen on Lake Pamalombi, which is far south of Lake Nyassa, the scene of the reported death. Young proceeded thither and became convinced that the white man was Livingstone. Continuing the search, he found that his views were from day to day confirmed by the reports of natives and articles which the explorer had left with them subsequent to the time of his reported murder. The search was continued till toward the close of the year, with the result that Dr. Livingstone had certainly been seen at a long distance from the Lake Nyassa, months after he had been reported killed. The expedition under Mr. Young did not find Dr. Livingstone, but discovered enough to demonstrate that Ali Moosa’s story was an ably and cunningly devised romance. Then the Geographical Society received letters from Livingstone himself, which proved that he was alive and well in February, 1867, some six months after Moosa’s heroic but vain defense near Lake Nyassa. Authentic reports of his presence on Lake Ujiji in October of the same year were received. But about this time Sir Roderick Murchison published a letter in the London “Times” newspaper, confidently predicting, on intelligence which he supposed to be reliable, Dr. Livingstone’s return to England about the coming Christmas. It has since transpired that Sir Roderick was imposed upon by a round-about story from Trincomalee in the island of Ceylon, which had been based upon an entire misunderstanding of something that had been said by Dr. Kirk, British Consul at Zanzibar, and the report of which was first transmitted from Trincomalee.

Dr. Livingstone did not appear in accordance with his friend’s prediction, and the consequence was a new variety of reports of misfortune and death. Conjecture was free; nothing had been lately heard from him; the suspense of the public in regard to the fate of one in whom there was so deep and universal interest was absolutely painful. And it was at this time of intense public anxiety that an expedition was set on foot, the like of which had not previously been known and the complete success of which has bestowed upon its projector and commander imperishable renown.

CHAPTER V.
THE HERALD EXPEDITION OF SEARCH.

It has already been remarked that among the many important events which had occurred in Christendom during Dr. Livingstone’s first great series of explorations in Africa there were none of greater importance to mankind than the invention of the magnetic telegraph, and the prodigious development, consequent thereon—at least in great part—of the newspaper press. There is not so much difference in means of travel, between the great, lumbering wagon of Cape Colony, drawn by a number of oxen which get over a few miles in a whole day and the means of travel by the best of Americas great railways, as there is between the means of current daily intelligence in 1872 and the means of that current daily intelligence as they existed when Dr. Livingstone first placed foot in Africa. If a daily journal of the manner and style of one of that time were to be now established, it would be looked upon like a curious relic of the past or an old almanac.

Nor is it strictly just to attribute the wonderful development of public journalism since about the year 1840 wholly to the success of Prof. Morse’s invention of the magnetic telegraph. His success was largely due to the press, which at the time he sought aid of Congress in behalf of his discovery had already begun to be something more and something better than the mere organ of power or of party. At any rate it may with perfect safety be said that the practical success of Prof. Morse’s invention was considerably hastened by the influence of a public press into which had recently been infused an independent spirit and a consequent influence before unknown. Up to about the time of which we speak the most widely circulated journals of the United States had been printed at the National Capital, a city which had never been representative of the country’s trade, its literature, science, art, or labor. It was only the seat of government, the centre of the political power of a nation which claimed to lodge its political power in the people. Here flourished a number of journalists of the old school, whose skill in political manipulation, money making, and editorials without beginning and without end, can never be surpassed. There is at this time more intelligence of the current events of the day in the poorest daily journals of the “far West” than there used to be in the “national organs” of the respective political parties contending for the control of our national polity. That neither one nor the other could have justly claimed any great amount of practical wisdom may be asserted with confidence since the result of the rule of both—now one and now the other—for a long period of years was a civil war of long duration and exhaustive effects, growing out of a question which both the great parties of the times had “finally” settled by act of Congress and solemn resolution on more than one memorable occasion.

It was while this not very admirable fooling was about at its height, that certain knights of the quill, no less adventurous in their enterprises than Dr. Livingstone was in his explorations through the wilds of Africa, established themselves in the commercial metropolis of America, and soon became the head of a power in the land scarcely second to that of the government. If not a new estate in government, this power became a new estate in society. There sprang up an entirely new literature; a literature which, as regularly as the sun, appeared every morning, and soon came to be, to all well informed persons, about as necessary as the sun is to the physical world. There was no subject too abstruse, none too sacred, none too high, and few too low for the essays of the brilliant, daring, dashing minds which about this time threw themselves into the arena of journalism. Not a few who had been distinguished in the literature of former days became journalists, and the most celebrated of American novelists, the illustrious author of the “Leatherstocking Tales,” finding himself too “slow” for the times, became incurably disgusted with men who cared little for venerable antiquity, and spoke of thrones and principalities, and powers, not to mention the writers of books, with all the sarcasm, wit, and irreverence of Junius and with infinitely more popular power. Here was, as we have said, a new literature. What difference was it that the individual essays were only for a day? Every day there were essays equally good, and they treated of political topics more fully and candidly than political topics had ever been discussed before by public journals, and they also treated of almost everything else under the sun. Every advance in science, every attempt at social or political reform, every humanitarian endeavor, every attack upon abuse and crime claimed to be hallowed by the lapse of time, every current event of importance of every kind, whether of fact or of idea, here in this wonderful kaleidescope could be seen, and then seen to give way to new spectacles of equal interest. Here the people were educated. There never has been discovered a means of education so powerful and so universal. It is, doubtless, owing to the fact that so many minds in America capable of creating a “permanent literature” devoted themselves to this potential means of influence, thereby losing their individuality but for the time being augmenting their power, that we have not yet produced an American Thackeray or even an American Dickens. In the formative era of what may well be called journalism proper, a very large proportion of existing genius has been called into such active use, in America, that it has not had leisure for books. And even in England, many of the most distinguished thinkers have served their regular terms as journalists.

Among the most celebrated of modern journalists was James Gordon Bennett, the founder of the New York “Herald” newspaper. A native of Scotland and a Roman Catholic in religion, he was educated for the priesthood, but whether, like John Randolph of Roanoke, he perceived that he had “too much spice of ‘old Nick’” in his composition for the sacred calling, or on other account, he did not take orders, but emigrated to America instead. After various fortune—generally misfortune—embracing teaching, translating, and associate-editorship, he embarked upon the “Herald” enterprise in 1835. It was not until some years afterwards, however, that this journal acquired any considerable reputation outside the city of New York, and inaugurated those news enterprises which made it so celebrated and a not unfaithful chronicler of the passing events of the whole world. During the era of “special correspondence” the “Herald” maintained an extensive corps of writers in Europe and other foreign countries, who ever gave to the paper great interest and value.

Meantime, other young men, since distinguished, had been educating themselves as journalists, and, like Bennett, through various fortune. Among them was Horace Greeley, who established the first penny daily paper ever published in the world, but its foundations soon gave way. In 1841 the “Tribune” was established, and Mr. Bennett discovered in the great and varied abilities of Mr. Greeley and Henry J. Raymond, assistant editor, rivals whom no assaults could repress, and whose influence soon began to be felt and acknowledged throughout the country. The warfare long waged between these journalistic giants was always sharp, often fierce. The intense rivalry greatly augmented the enterprise of the printing offices which at length became vast establishments, employing thousands of men, from the greatest intellects of the age to the ragged urchins on the street, and receiving and disbursing vast sums of money.

The invention of the telegraph added immensely to the scope and power of the daily press. Greatly increasing its expenditures, it also greatly augmented its circulation and profits. Its demand for brain-labor became perfectly prodigious, and it almost monopolized the genius of the land. In the city of New York there were established within a very few years after Morse’s invention had begun regularly to click the news of the day no less than four morning journals of acknowledged reputation throughout the world, and which upon certain memorable occasions of current intelligence have contained in their combined columns nearly as great an amount of reading matter as the whole of Bancroft’s history of the United States.[1] The average quantity of these journals’ reading matter, of interest to the general public, is equivalent, every day, to from three to five volumes of Bancroft’s distinguished work.

Other cities of the republic have been little if any behind the commercial and financial metropolis, excepting only the city of Washington whose most successful journalism of the old school has given way at last till quite recently to a series of wretched failures.

Editorials of a journal published in the largest city of our Lake country, which was a straggling hamlet when Dr. Livingstone first went to Africa, have been known to make the proudest speculators of Wall street tremble, and powerful corporations to abandon long-conceived schemes of injustice. In an exhaustive article on the United States census of 1860, the New York “Tribune” said of the public press:

“The very great increase in the circulation of newspapers and periodicals during the last ten years is an evidence at once of a high degree of popular intelligence and of a high standard of journalistic ability. There is no doubt that this country has the best, and the best sustained public press in the world—the best, we mean, for the people and not merely the learned few. Newspapers penetrate to every part of the country, reach even the most obscure hamlet, and find their way to almost every household. Printing offices go with the vanguard of civilization toward the west, and in the ‘new country’ are about as numerous as the mills. The dailies of the great cities cannot be carried by the government mails; they have created, during the decade, an entirely new line of business, supporting thousands of families; on issues fairly joined they have defeated many of the most maturely considered measures of Congressional Committees.”

Having given the statistics in regard to the number and circulation of the periodicals and papers of the country at the time under examination, the article goes on to say:

“The total number of daily papers thrown from the press during the year is about half that of all the other papers and periodicals combined. Supposing each one to weigh an ounce, the weight of the whole number of daily papers printed in the United States during the year of the census was 28,644,678 pounds avoirdupois—enough to load 14,322 wagons with a ton each, or to make a train of them seventy miles in length. Were all the papers and periodicals printed in 1860 placed in such a train, it would reach from New York to Richmond. Should they be pasted into one vast sheet, they would make a covering for the continent, and leave a remnant large enough to shut out the sun from the British Islands.

“But, not to dwell upon the mere material aspect of the Public Press of America, it will suffice to say that if its records shall be preserved the historian of two thousand years hence who shall narrate the events which are now taking place, will find upon their dingy pages his best authorities and his most trustworthy sources of philosophical generalization. Not all that is left of Grecian literature, not all the grand works of the fine old Romans, give so correct a picture of the great peoples of antiquity as the daily papers of America are now taking of a people far greater than that whose phalanges swept down the barbarians from the Hellespont to the Indus, or than that ‘the tramp of whose legions echoed round the world.’”

To such magnificent proportions and such stupendous influence had the American press grown during Livingstone’s first sojourn in Africa. When he left England, its chief business was to chronicle small beer. When he returned its power was more than imperial, and all exercised through persuasion. As it had grown in America, so it had been immensely developed in other lands, but in respect of the publication of current intelligence at the time of the happening of events, the American press is not approached by that of any other country. There is more telegraphic news in almost any number of any Chicago daily, for example, than the average quantity of such intelligence in the London “Times.”

An additional impetus to the enterprise of journalism was given by the success of the Atlantic cable during Dr. Livingstone’s second great expedition to Africa. It is difficult to believe these great facts though they have occurred before our very eyes. This wonderful achievement of science, aided by the no less wonderful enterprise of the daily press of the United States, made the inhabitants of Christendom like next-door neighbors. A dispatch from Athens in Greece, was once published by all the evening daily journals of the United States at an earlier hour than its date. The difference of time and the “girdle round about the earth” put the inhabitants of the Mississippi Valley, as they took their suppers, in a situation in which they might have criticised an oration by Demosthenes before he had gone to bed, had Demosthenes belonged to this day and generation.

Thus had the press become the great means of the dissemination of knowledge, and by reason of the wonderful enterprise of its most distinguished representative men, far more potential in the affairs of the world than any potentate or any government. It had come to be acknowledged as of the greatest consequence in the dissemination of science, in popularizing literature, in aiding moral, social, and political reform. But the irrepressibility of its enterprising spirit, its superiority even to the most powerful government in respect of obtaining intelligence remained to be conclusively shown. And even this was done by the expedition of Mr. Henry M. Stanley, in the employ of the New York “Herald,” in search of Dr. Livingstone, long lost from Christendom in the wilds of central Africa.

So deep an interest did the government of Great Britain take in discovering the truth of the reports of the explorer’s death, first given to the world through the story of Ali Moosa, as condensed by Dr. Seward, English Resident Agent at Zanzibar—the substance of which appears in the preceeding chapter—that an expedition in that behalf was organized, and after many hundred miles of journeyings by river and land found unmistakable evidences that Moosa’s story was a cruel fabrication. So, too, when years had elapsed without definite information from Dr. Livingstone, and there arose a world of wild conjecture as to his fate, the British government again organized an expedition of search, which, as we have seen, was at last accounts from it at Zanzibar, well prepared for an expedition inland but waiting for a proper season at which to begin the journey.

Meantime the great discoverer is discovered in the heart of equatorial Africa by Mr. Henry M. Stanley, in command of an expedition of search sent out under the auspices of an American newspaper, the New York “Herald.” Thus did newspaper enterprise accomplish that in which the combined efforts of wealthy religious societies, learned corporate bodies, and one of the most powerful governments of earth had failed. A brief account of this unique expedition will be of interest:

During the civil war in the United States—1861-65—among the many “war correspondents” of the “Herald” was Mr. Stanley, just mentioned. He was not so much distinguished as a writer as he was valuable to the journal on account of his fearless nature and his restless activity. In imitation of Tennyson’s charge of the Light Brigade, he would pursue an item if the search should carry him “into the jaws of hell.” Restrained by no danger, almost insensible to fatigue, he could ride all day and write all night almost, and keep up this hard work for an indefinite period. After the war he went abroad and from various countries, generally out of the way of ordinary lines of travel, corresponded with the “Herald.” When the proprietors of that journal—the elder Mr. Bennett was then living—determined to organize a “Herald Special Search Expedition,” they naturally selected Mr. Stanley as its commander. This was in 1868. Mr. Stanley at once accepted the charge, and, after some hesitation as to whether he should proceed through Egypt up the Nile, or by way of Zanzibar and then westward overland, or by the line of the river Rovuma, the route taken by Livingstone, he at length resolved to go by way of Zanzibar. This is an island, and town also of the same name, off the coast of Zanguebar, and is toward the southern limit of Mohammedan rule in Africa. Here Mr. Stanley arrived in due season, and hence wrote his first letter in this special service, under date of February 9, 1869. It chiefly had reference to Livingstone’s previous explorations, the story of his death, and its refutation. But the report that he was only about a week’s march inland from Zanzibar also received a quietus, and Mr. Stanley was well nigh persuaded to retrace his steps to Egypt and proceed by way of the Nile, in consequence of the following note from the United States Vice Consul:

“Island of Zanzibar, Dec. 26, 1868.

“Dear Sir—I should be most happy to assist you in any way whatever; but, in reply to your note, I beg to assure you of my candid belief of his non-appearance. There is not the slightest probability of his ever coming again to this island. Dr. Kirk the British Vice Consul here, and who was with Dr. Livingstone for some years during his travels in Africa, thinks it more than probable that he will come out at the Nile, and has not the least expectation of having the pleasure of seeing him here. In September, 1868, Her Majesty’s ship Octavia, Sir Leopold Heath, C. B., left here, and as I see by the Bombay papers, on her arrival at Trincomalee, which is in Ceylon, reported that when she left Zanzibar Dr. Livingstone was reported within a week’s march of the coast. This, if you saw it, probably misled you also to believe he would come here, but it is hardly necessary to say that the statement was without the slightest foundation of truth, and was probably written from some entire misconception by the writer of some conversation which took place between him and Dr. Kirk. Trusting, however, you will succeed on the other side, I am, dear sir, very respectfully

“Francis R. Webb,
“United States Vice Consul.”

Nevertheless, Mr. Stanley determined to go on and telegraphing to an acquaintance residing at Khartoum, Upper Nubia, to send him word, if anything should be heard from Livingstone, went forward with the preparations for his journey. He was doubtless cognizant of the fact also, that the “Herald” had another Search expedition on foot to which the Khedive of Egypt was rendering generous encouragement and assistance. It may well be imagined that the drafts upon the “Herald” at this time for necessary outlays in the purchase of horses, asses, and supplies and the employment of a sufficient escort—mainly consisting of a number of Arabs—were not light. The preparations, after months’ delay, caused by war in the interior, were at length made, and the expedition left Zanzibar on the long-ago trail of the great explorer.

And here it will be proper, while we are awaiting intelligence of its difficulties and final great success, to speak of the previous life of him who was to make so many hearts glad by tidings of the safety of the most distinguished explorer of our times.

CHAPTER VI.
HENRY MORLAND STANLEY.

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.

“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.”

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.

“What will it cost?” asked Mr. Bennett.

“Burton and Speke’s journey to Central Africa cost between £3,000 and £5,000, and I fear it cannot be done under £2,500,” replied Mr. Stanley.

“Well, I will tell you what you will do. Draw a thousand pounds now, and when you have gone through that, draw another thousand; and when that is spent, draw another thousand; and when you have finished that, draw another thousand, and so on; but find Livingstone!”

Stanley, though somewhat surprised, yet not confused at the order—for he knew that Mr. Bennett, when once he had made up his mind, was not easily drawn aside from his purpose—thought, seeing it was such a gigantic undertaking, that he had not quite fully considered in his own mind the pros and cons of the case, and said, “I have heard that should your father die you would sell the ‘Herald’ and retire from business.”

“Whoever told you that is wrong, for there is not money enough in New York city to buy the ‘Herald.’ My father has made it a great paper; but I mean to make it greater. I mean that it shall be a newspaper in the true sense of the word. I mean that it shall publish whatever news will be interesting to the world, at no matter what cost.”

“After that,” says Stanley, “I have nothing more to say. Do you mean me to go straight on to Africa to search for Dr. Livingstone?”

Mr. Bennett thereupon outlined a course of instructions as to what he would have Stanley do in the matter, closing with these words:

“Bagdad will be close on your way to India. Suppose you go there and write up something about the Euphrates Valley Railroad. Then, when you have come to India, you can go after Livingstone. Probably you will hear by that time that Livingstone is on his way to Zanzibar; but if not, go into the interior and find him, if alive. Get what news of his discoveries you can; and, if you find he is dead, bring all possible proof of his being dead. That is all. Good night, and God be with you.”

Thus it was that Stanley received his carte blanche, and as promptly set out upon his mission. He was then about twenty-nine years of age, a thick-set, powerful man, though short of stature, being only about five feet seven inches in height. He is a sure shot, an expert swimmer, a fine horseman, a trained athlete. But few men living have had more experience in “roughing it.” A better selection for the command of its singular undertaking could not possibly have been made by the “Herald,” and this the result, so astonishing to the world, has practically demonstrated.

All civilized nations had shared the anxiety to know whether Livingstone was living or dead. If living, where; if dead, where he died, and how. It was surmised that he had with him the records of a number of years, covering many of the most important discoveries ever made in Africa, containing many things of infinite consequence in connection with the great work of African evangelization, and of immense importance in the interests of science. There were reasons, therefore, why he should not die in the forests of Manyuema.

Mr. Stanley was a “flying correspondent,” but God saw in him the elements of a hero demanded by so great an occasion. We do not believe that he does himself justice in insinuating that he went to Africa only as he would have gone anywhere else under orders from his employer. Such a spirit of obedience and faithfulness under an engagement is commendable; but we prefer to recognize in Mr. Stanley a spirit which lifts him above the common level of ordinary business honesty. He manifested an enthusiasm in this undertaking which betrayed a greatness of soul which he has preferred to conceal, that his employer might have the more honor. He might not have essayed this expedition at the suggestions of his own benevolence—he probably could not have done so; but when he found that he might do it, his heart bounded to the work. We believe he went forth from Paris under a higher commission than that of Mr. Bennett. There was needed money, and there was needed a man. God knew where to find both, and He did find them just when He saw that one of His noblest servants was approaching an extremity.

From Mr. Stanley’s Zanzibar letter of February 9th, 1869, we quote his conclusion:

“Now the readers of this letter know really as much of the whereabouts of Dr. Livingstone as I do; but probably from conversations heard from different persons I have greater reasons for judging of the case, and I believe it will be a very long time yet before Dr. Livingstone arrives, and that his return will be by the river Nile.”

With this opinion, but with a good stock of supplies for Livingstone’s journey down the Nile, should he be found proceeding in that way, and with the best escort attainable, Stanley, in charge of the unique newspaper expedition, after long delay, on account of wars, plunged into the wilderness, to be heard from no more until after many long months of suspense and conjecture.