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British explorer Sir Henry Morton Stanley was about to set out from England to Africa on a rescue expedition when he gave this interview to the Pall Mall Gazette in January 1887. Stanley had learned that German explorer Mehmed Emin Pasha (also known as Emin Bey), an administrator in Egyptian Sudan, was cut off and surrounded by Sudanese revolutionary forces in what is now northern Uganda. Stanley discusses possible routes by which he might reach Emin and the difficulties he foresees for this expedition. The article reflects the conventions and biases of the era in which it was written.
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In a day or two the finder of [Scottish missionary David] Livingstone and the founder of the Congo State will once more set sail for the shores of that dark and mysterious continent in which he has done the best of his life's work. As all the world knows, he goes to rescue Emin Bey, who, to use Mr Stanley's graphic phrase, is 'environed by breadths of unknown territories populated by savage tribes.’ Emin Bey's headquarters are at Wadelai, on the Nile, about fifty miles north-east of Albert Nyanza, and here he is supposed to have a small army of 5,000 men, equipped with Remingtons and less efficient firearms. In July of last year word came to [German explorer Wilhelm] Junker that he was short of ammunition and that his troops were disaffected. He is hemmed in by the Arab slave traders, whose caravans he has harassed for so long, and at any time the avenging hordes may sweep him and his settlement from the face of the earth, and the vast tract of country over which he has established his rule will once more be given up to the Arabs. Mr Stanley, who sails for Zanzibar in a day or two, was kind enough to receive one of our representatives yesterday afternoon.
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Mr Stanley's head-quarters are in Bond-street [in London], a suite of rooms on the first floor which he has made his home for the last two years. The walls of the vestibule are lined with trophies and pictures of Africa, but there is no sign of barbaric mementos in the modern luxury of his spacious sitting-room, whose walls are hung with water-colours, photographs, and sketches. Explorer, nomad, Ulysses, as he is, he does not despise the pleasures of the upholsterer, as was shown by the handsome cabinets, the sumptuous settees, the soft rugs, strewn about the floor. In a minute he came into the room, erect as ever, smoking a cigar, and remarking, 'I have had no sleep for two nights, and only got back from Brussels at five this morning; but I can give you fifteen minutes. My time is short now.
'We have naturally considered the question of the routes very seriously, and discussed it very thoroughly. I will explain to you how matters stand. It is possible to reach Emin either from the Congo or from Zanzibar. Let us take the Zanzibar route. My expedition is 1,000 strong when it leaves Zanzibar. What will it be when we reach the savage-bound circle drawn round Emin? You have marched, say, 1,000 miles under a torrid sun, each man carrying sixty pounds. During this arduous journey your number is gradually decreasing. Some desert, some are fatigued, some die, some are killed, some are weakened by bhang [a drug]. The rumour goes about that the real danger does not begin until you reach the fringe of the circle. Panic may seize the men; and then—why, they may desert in a body. They have come from Zanzibar, and the way home is open to them. Take the Congo route. The King of the Belgians has given us permission to use the steamer on the Upper River, the journey is comparatively easy, food is plentiful, and you land your men on the edge of the danger circle fresh, active, in good spirits, and in good condition. But most important of all, they cannot desert. If they turn tail they have not Zanzibar behind them, but only the water of the Congo. The advantages of one route over another are obvious. The difficulty now is the transport from Zanzibar to the Congo. I hope to find a steamer ready when we reach Zanzibar.'
Mr Stanley then spread out a well-worn map of Equatorial Africa, on which the mighty Congo and its tributaries were indicated in heavy blue washes, spreading itself out like a monarch of the forest with its thousand limbs. The great Equatorial lakes were shown on a large scale—Tanganyika, Victoria Nyanza, Albert Nyanza, and the Nile winding its way past Wadelai and Khartoum. Mr Stanley then described a rough circle with a lead pencil through which the expedition has to pass before it can reach the beleaguered Emin. By means of a telegraph form and a pair of rusty dividers, he measured off the possible routes, explaining how the dreaded power of [King] M'Wanga of Uganda, son of his old friend M'Tesa, had spread. 'Here,' indicating the stretch of country between the great lakes, 'are some of the best fighting men in all Africa, 200,000 of them and more. No matter which route the expedition takes, there is the danger, for Uganda's power extends right up to Albert Nyanza.' 'Could you cross Victoria by boats?' 'We take one boat with us for the rivers,' replied the explorer. 'I cannot tell you what I shall do. My secret must remain undivulged. M'Wanga's emissaries are everywhere.
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'Whichever way we go I shall send couriers with dispatches until we touch the fringe of the terrible girdle which encloses Emin in its grasp. From the circumference of this circle to its centre is, I estimate, a distance of some 300 to 400 miles. I shall despatch my last couriers from its edge, and before they reach the coast I shall hope to have come up to Emin Bey. You should hear news of us about July.
'Of course Tipoo Tip [Tippu Tib, Afro-Arab trader who headed a commercial empire in equatorial Africa] is an old friend of mine. I remember him as a most agreeable and gentlemanly fellow. He once beat one of my own men in a footrace and carried off a silver goblet. His story is told in one of my books, but his power and influence have extended enormously since then. His head-quarters are at Kasonge [Kasongo, located in what is now the Democratic Republic of the Congo]. M'Wanga must have been a child when I was with M'Tesa, his father. He was educated by a Roman Catholic priest, but when he succeeded his father the priests were the first to suffer. One of my difficulties is that if I trouble him, the missionaries he has in his power ([British missionary James] Hannington was one of his victims) will certainly suffer. He is about twenty now, I should think.'
'What is the full strength of the expedition?' 'About a thousand men, all told. Besides myself I have eight Englishmen, the rest of the number is made of Zanzibaris. Already the caravan has grown beyond my original intention. The estimated cost is £20,000. The preparation has been ordered by cable to Zanzibar, and when we reach there all should be ready. Each porter carries sixty pounds weight, and I allow each European 1801b. baggage. We shall depend for our food upon what the villages and our guns supply, taking only such luxuries as tea, coffee, sugar, tobacco, and the things Africa does not supply. The equipment of an expedition such as this is not a difficult matter, though it is an interesting calculation—a rule of three sum. If twenty men require so much, how many will 20,000 want? One has to calculate the currencies among the different tribes. How many days shall we be marching through tract A? So many. The currency is beads: then so many beads. Through tract B? So many. The currency is cloth: then so many thousand yards of it. Through Tract C? So many. The currency is wire: then so much wire. You see, it is not so difficult, given the experience and the knowledge.'
'Supposing you elect the Congo route, will you proceed as far as the Stanley Falls station?' 'That is a matter of detail which I cannot discuss. We may take one of the big rivers which fall into the Congo on its right bank, or we may keep to the main body of the river. Why should I be afraid to go up to the Falls if I have friendly relations with Tipoo? The station was undoubtedly lost by bad management and want of tact. A female slave escapes from the Arabs and seeks refuge in the station. They refuse to give her up. The consequences are fire and devastation. You ask me what I should have done—give her up. It may be against my principles or against those of every Briton to refuse to protect a refugee slave, but have we not every day to sacrifice them? I might have said to the woman, 'I am very sorry for you, but you must return. I will, however, say a good word for you and see what can be done.' I might even have bought her. A little tact, and the station might certainly have been saved. As it is, for this one woman thousands of slaves have been made. The country was healing up; it is now an open sore. As I have said, slavery may be against my principles, but one slave saved has made many. The chief should have seen that his business was to keep the station. And he might have done it. Suppose you were walking on the Embankment, and a thief said, 'I want your money.' You would perhaps reply, 'But with all due deference to you, I prefer to keep it.' 'To your life?' the thief might reply. You have your alternative. I compare the one slave who cost us the station to your money. It is better to sacrifice a part and save the whole.
'It is very simple. I take my place at the head of the caravan. What is my weapon? A stick. Of course I have my escort. A revolver? The surest weapon is the eye. Prevision. There are scouts in front of us, to the right and the left. Am I not afraid of ambuscades [ambushes]? They have not yet caught me asleep. Mind, this is a rush, not an exploring party. The bugle sounds at 4.30; day begins to dawn at 5; at 5.15 you see the pale grey patches on the horizon; at 5.30 there is light enough to see the path; at six o'clock the sun appears on the horizon—it is hot by 9.30. We have been marching at the rate, say, of two and three quarter miles an hour, the column is close up, the men are still fresh and cheery. By eleven the heat beats down upon you, and there are long gaps in the column, which from a quarter of a mile long at starting is now elongated to a mile and a quarter. It is then time to halt. Early in the morning one has a cup of coffee and a piece of native bread, perhaps, or maybe only a handful of ground nuts. At six o'clock we stop for the night, we have dinner, smoke by the fire, and discuss the next day's work; then bed, for seven hours' sleep. No one wants more. Thirteen miles a day is good work. It depends upon the nature of the country, whether it is dense forest or stretching park land.
'If I die,' wrote Emin Bey, 'who will take this work up? I think only of that. I am too much needed here to think of leaving my post. Time is wanted; but from the seed I have tried to sow doubtless good fruit will spring up.' 'Will he return, do you think, Mr Stanley?' 'I cannot say,' replied the explorer, gazing into the fire, and following the trail of smoke from his cigar. 'I cannot say. Livingstone declined, so may Emin. But the object of the expedition is to take him relief, by supplying him with ammunition. Having fulfilled that part of our undertaking we have to bring out with us the fifty women and children of the Cairo Arabs who are with him. I can say nothing about the stores of ivory which he may have accumulated. No, I have never met him.
'Am I of a hopeful temperament? Well, I daresay we all have our despondent hours when everything seems to go wrong. Who has not, if he sees failure staring him in the face through the folly or carelessness of some member of an expedition, in which all the best qualities of a man are put to the test? I should be despondent if, say, I found at a crucial point of my journey my men were seized with panic, and only a handful of white men was left. These might stay or return; to stay would mean death; to return, to fail. The expedition is full of dangers and difficulties which no one can foresee. I do not want to be troubled with fighting. Fighting is folly if it can be avoided. I prefer diplomacy.
'Yes, I am in excellent health. I never allow the luxuries of civilization to demoralize me, and I never was a gourmand. I shall be happy when I set foot once more on African soil, and I fall readily into my old nomadic ways of life. Tea, coffee, milk, tobacco, but stimulants seldom. Yes, here I smoke six cigars a day. In Africa I have my pipe and mild tobacco. I did not begin to smoke until I was twenty-five, and could not grapple with a pipe till I was thirty. Since then I have always found tobacco a solace and an aid to concentration. I remember when on one journey down the Congo, we were just about to enter a most dangerous country. I knew that a fight was inevitable, and told my men to make ready. I took an observation, lighted my pipe, and smoked for five minutes to settle myself for the action. We were fighting for our lives a few minutes afterwards, and the battle went on for hours. Livingstone never smoked.'
And then I bade the explorer good-bye and good luck.
Source: The Penguin Book of Interviews. Silvester, Christopher, ed. Penguin Books, 1993.
Appears in
Scramble for Africa; Stanley, Sir Henry Morton; Emin Pasha, Mehmed; Colonialism and Colonies
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