Millions left Liverpool for the New World. But few made a greater impact than a short, slight, round-faced teenager. David Charters reports on a wonderful life SMALL, grubby and hungry, the boy was just another face lost on the waterfront parade of urchins. He walked the cobbles towards the gangway of the big ship, carrying a trunk holding his Bible and a few other possessions gathered in a life which, thus far, had not offered him much encouragement. But a resolute faith in a better tomorrow quickened the step of this proud 16 year old as he boarded the triple-masted packet-ship Windermere for an Atlantic crossing which, in the coming years, would make him one of the greatest explorers of the Victorian era, associated with one of the most quoted greetings in our language. "Dr Livingstone, I presume." It is estimated that nine million people left Liverpool for America in the 100 years from 1840. Few, however, left a greater mark on history than Henry Morton Stanley. Of course, on that December day in 1857, the boy was still John Rowlands, the name on the parish register at Denbigh, where he had been baptised on February 18, 1841, in St Hilary's Chapel, the illegitimate son of John Rowlands, a farmer of Llys, Llanrhaiadr, and Elizabeth (Betsy) Parry, of Denbigh. Betsy soon left the scene and the baby was brought up by his 80-year-old grandfather, Moses Parry, in a cottage on Castle Row, Denbigh. However, Parry died when the boy was four and, in 1847, after a spell with an elderly couple, Rowlands began his stay at St Asaph's Poor Law Union Workhouse. It had been built in brick in 1840 at a cost of £5,499 for the elderly and orphaned or abandoned children. It was there that Rowlands was introduced to the schoolmaster, James Francis, chillingly described as "soured by misfortune, brutal of temper and callous of heart". In his later recollections, as the celebrated Stanley, he spoke of beatings and near-starvation conditions which compared unfavourably with prison. But Alan Gallop, author of a new biography of Stanley, feels that his man's memory was at times fanciful. By today's standards, conditions at the workhouse would indeed have been appalling and the punishments harsh, leaving welts on the boys whose misdemeanours had offended the generosity of the parish as well as their God. But the diet was sufficient to keep body and soul together and the educational grounding seems to have been good, with many "inmates" advancing to places of higher learning and successful professions. Rowlands left the workhouse in 1856 aged 15. He was literate, numerate and seems to have had a reasonable general knowledge. On his departure, Francis presented him with a shiny sixpence to add to the Bible he had been given a couple of years earlier by the Right Rev Thomas Vowler Short, Lord Bishop of St Asaph. After a brief spell as the pupil/teacher at the National School, run by his cousin Moses Owen, in nearby Brynford, Rowlands headed for Liverpool, where he stayed with his uncle Tom Morris and aunt Maria at their house in Roscommon Street, Everton. After days of trudging the teeming streets, Rowlands did accept a position for five shillings a week (25p) at a haberdasher's shop, sweeping, polishing and lamp-trimming, but he injured his back lifting the heavy wooden shutters. But, in this otherwise bleak period, the boy was touched by good fortune. He took another job as a butcher's delivery boy and delivered provisions to Captain David Hartinge of the Windermere packet-ship. They had a brief conversation and the American signed him on as the cabin boy. THIS being Rowlands, of course, he ended up swabbing the deck. But 52 days after leaving Liverpool, having endured stomach-churning and turbulent waters, the Windermere arrived at the mouth of the Mississippi and was tugged 100 miles to New Orleans. There, Rowlands was to meet Henry Hope Stanley, a commercial broker, who offered him work and respectability. Although he was probably an employee rather than a "stepson", Rowlands adopted the name Henry Morton Stanley. This also signified his confidence in the new country of America and the cutting of his roots with Britain. Then began one of the most astonishing careers in the annals of adventure. It included serving on both sides in the American Civil War, becoming a special correspondent for the New York Herald for whom he covered Lord Napier's Abyssinian expedition. From there, he headed to Egypt for the opening of the Suez Canal (1869) and travelled through Palestine, Turkey, Persia and India. Then, in November 1871, at the request of James Gordon Bennett, founder and boss of the Herald, he found Dr David Livingstone (1813-73), the Scottish missionary, in Ujiji, near Lake Tanganyika (now Tanzania). After that, he discovered the source of the Nile, explored and won the Congo for Belgium and, in 1889, successfully led a military expedition to save Emin Pasha, otherwise Eduard Schnitzer, a German doctor, explorer, linguist and convert to Islam, who became Governor of the Equatorial Province of Sudan and was isolated during a bloody uprising. Stanley adopted American citizenship in 1885, but returned to Britain five years later and was renaturalised in 1892. He was the Unionist MP for Lambeth (1895-1900). He died in 1904, having been married to the artist, Dorothy Tennant, for 14 years. This man of just 5ft 5ins possessed ambitions which knew no boundaries. Now, a fine new biography has been written about him by Alan Gallop, 55, an author from Ashford, Middlesex, who was spurred into action in 2002 by the BBC poll of 100 Great Britons. It didn't include Stanley and only placed Livingstone at 98. But Gallop, a married father of two grown-up children, is convinced that Stanley should be near the top of any list of distinguished Britons "He was a unique character, a bundle of contradictions," says Gallop. "He had a small circle of friends because of his rather stern personality. The fact that he was always on the move meant that he found it difficult to keep friendships going. "By the end of my research, I liked and admired him very much. The words "no" or "can't" didn't appear in his vocabulary. Nothing was too difficult for him. He managed to by-pass insurmountable odds caused by food shortages, water shortages, illness, hostile tribes, 500-mile detours. But he always got round the problems." davidcharters@dailypost.co.uk One of the most famous encounters in history ON NOVEMBER 10, 1871, a volley from 50 guns announced that Stanley's caravan was entering the village of Ujiji, near Lake Tanganyika. There in the midst of a tumultous crowd, the 33-year-old reporter Stanley noticed a white man "wearied and wan with grey whiskers and a moustache and wearing a bluish cap with a faded gold band". "Dr Livingstone, I presume?" said Stanley.. It was the crowning moment of his life. * MR STANLEY, I Presume? The Life and Explorations of Henry Morton Stanley, is published by Sutton at £20. | 
News RSS Feed