The autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley, G.C.B.Stanley, Henry M. (Henry Morton)
History
The autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley, G.C.B.
Stanley, Henry M. (Henry Morton)
Africa, Central -- Biography; Explorers -- Africa -- Biography; Stanley, Henry M. (Henry Morton), 1841-1904
The latrines were all at the rear of our plank barracks, and each time
imperious nature compelled us to resort to them, we lost a little of
that respect and consideration we owed our fellow-creatures. For, on the
way thither, we saw crowds of sick men, who had fallen, prostrate from
weakness, and given themselves wholly to despair; and, while they
crawled or wallowed in their filth, they cursed and blasphemed as often
as they groaned. In the edge of the gaping ditches, which provoked the
gorge to look at, there were many of the sick people, who, unable to
leave, rested there for hours, and made their condition hopeless by
breathing the stenchful atmosphere. Exhumed corpses could not have
presented anything more hideous than dozens of these dead-and-alive men,
who, oblivious to the weather, hung over the latrines, or lay extended
along the open sewer, with only a few gasps intervening between them and
death. Such as were not too far gone prayed for death, saying, ‘Good
God, let me die! Let me go, O Lord!’ and one insanely damned his vitals
and his constitution, because his agonies were so protracted. No
self-respecting being could return from their vicinity without feeling
bewildered by the infinite suffering, his existence degraded, and
religion and sentiment blasted.
Yet, indoors, what did we see? Over two hundred unwashed, unkempt,
uncombed men, in the dismalest attitudes, occupied in relieving
themselves from hosts of vermin, or sunk in gloomy introspection,
staring blankly, with heads between their knees, at nothing; weighed
down by a surfeit of misery, internal pains furrowing their faces,
breathing in a fine cloud of human scurf, and dust of offensive hay,
dead to everything but the flitting fancies of the hopeless!
One intelligent and humane supervisor would have wrought wonders at this
period with us, and arrested that swift demoralization with which we
were threatened. None of us were conspicuously wise out of our own
sphere; and of sanitary laws we were all probably as ignorant as of the
etiology of sclerosis of the nerve-centres. In our colossal ignorance,
we were perhaps doing something half-a-dozen times a day, as dangerous
as eating poison, and constantly swallowing a few of the bacilli of
typhus. Even had we possessed the necessary science at our finger-tips,
we could not have done much, unaided by the authorities; but when the
authorities were as ignorant as ourselves,--I cannot believe their
neglect of us was intentional,--we were simply doomed!
Every morning, the wagons came to the hospital and dead-house, to take
away the bodies; and I saw the corpses rolled in their blankets, taken
to the vehicles, and piled one upon another, as the New Zealand
frozen-mutton carcases are carted from the docks!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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