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tanley said此
;When I once stopped him to ask him his name察his face seemed to say察'Please don't stop me。 I must finish my task。'
;All alike察the baboon variety and the handsome innocents察are cannibals。 They are possessed with a perfect mania for meat。 We were obliged to bury our dead in the river察lest the bodies should be exhumed and eaten察even when they had died from smallpox。;
Upon the pygmies and all the dwellers of the forest has descended a devastating visitation in the shape of the ivory raiders of civilisation。 The race that wrote the Arabian Nights察built Bagdad and Granada察and invented Algebra察sends forth men with the hunger for gold in their hearts察and Enfield muskets in their hands察to plunder and to slay。 They exploit the domestic affections of the forest dwellers in order to strip them of all they possess in the world。 That has been going on for years。 It is going on to´day。 It has come to be regarded as the natural and normal law of existence。 Of the religion of these hunted pygmies Mr。 Stanley tells us nothing察perhaps because there is nothing to tell。 But an earlier traveller察Dr。 Kraff察says that one of these tribes察by name Doko察had some notion of a Supreme Being察to whom察under the name of Yer察they sometimes addressed prayers in moments of sadness or terror。 In these prayers they say察 Oh Yer察if Thou dost really exist why dost Thou let us be slaves拭 We ask not for food or clothing察for we live on snakes察ants察and mice。 Thou hast made us察wherefore dost Thou let us be trodden down拭
It is a terrible picture察and one that has engraved itself deep on the heart of civilisation。 But while brooding over the awful presentation of life as it exists in the vast African forest察it seemed to me only too vivid a picture of many parts of our own land。 As there is a darkest Africa is there not also a darkest England拭 Civilisation察which can breed its own barbarians察does it not also breed its own pygmies拭 May we not find a parallel at our own doors察and discover within a stone's throw of our cathedrals and palaces similar horrors to those which Stanley has found existing in the great Equatorial forest
The more the mind dwells upon the subject察the closer the analogy appears。 The ivory raiders who brutally traffic in the unfortunate denizens of the forest glades察what are they but the publicans who flourish on the weakness of our poor拭 The two tribes of savages the human baboon and the handsome dwarf察who will not speak lest it impede him in his task察may be accepted as the two varieties who are continually present with usthe vicious察lazy lout察and the toiling slave。 They察too察have lost all faith of life being other than it is and has been。 As in Africa察it is all trees trees察trees with no other world conceivable察so is it hereit is all vice and poverty and crime。 To many the world is all slum察with the Workhouse as an intermediate purgatory before the grave。 And just as Mr。 Stanley's Zanzibaris lost faith察and could only be induced to plod on in brooding sullenness of dull despair察so the most of our social reformers察no matter how cheerily they may have started off察with forty pioneers swinging blithely their axes as they force their way in to the wood察soon become depressed and despairing。 Who can battle against the ten thousand million trees拭 Who can hope to make headway against the innumerable adverse conditions which doom the dweller in Darkest England to eternal and immutable misery拭 What wonder is it that many of the warmest hearts and enthusiastic workers feel disposed to repeat the lament of the old English chronicler察who察speaking of the evil days which fell upon our forefathers in the reign of Stephen察said ;It seemed to them as if God and his Saints were dead。;
An analogy is as good as a suggestion察it becomes wearisome when it is pressed too far。 But before leaving it察think for a moment how close the parallel is察and how strange it is that so much interest should be excited by a narrative of human squalor and human heroism in a distant continent察while greater squalor and heroism not less magnificent may be observed at our very doors。
The Equatorial Forest traversed by Stanley resembles that Darkest England of which I have to speak察alike in its vast extentboth stretch察in Stanley's phrase察 as far as from Plymouth to Peterhead察─its monotonous darkness察its malaria and its gloom察its dwarfish de´humanized inhabitants察the slavery to which they are subjected察their privations and their misery。 That which sickens the stoutest heart察and causes many of our bravest and best to fold their hands in despair察is the apparent impossibility of doing more than merely to peck at the outside of the endless tangle of monotonous undergrowth察to let light into it察to make a road clear through it察that shall not be immediately choked up by the ooze of the morass and the luxuriant parasitical growth of the forestwho dare hope for that拭At present察alas察it would seem as though no one dares even to hope It is the great Slough of Despond of our time。
And what a slough it is no man can gauge who has not waded therein察as some of us have done察up to the very neck for long years。 Talk about Dante's Hell察and all the horrors and cruelties of the torture´chamber of the lost The man who walks with open eyes and with bleeding heart through the shambles of our civilisation needs no such fantastic images of the poet to teach him horror。 Often and often察when I have seen the young and the poor and the helpless go down before my eyes into the morass察trampled underfoot by beasts of prey in human shape that haunt these regions察it seemed as if God were no longer in His world察but that in His stead reigned a fiend察merciless as Hell察ruthless as the grave。 Hard it is察no doubt察to read in Stanley's pages of the slave´traders coldly arranging for the surprise of a village察the capture of the inhabitants察the massacre of those who resist察and the violation of all the women察but the stony streets of London察if they could but speak察would tell of tragedies as awful察of ruin as complete察of ravishments as horrible察as if we were in Central Africa察only the ghastly devastation is covered察corpselike察with the artificialities and hypocrisies of modern civilisation。
The lot of a negress in the Equatorial Forest is not察perhaps察a very happy one察but is it so very much worse than that of many a pretty orphan girl in our Christian capital拭 We talk about the brutalities of the dark ages察and we profess to shudder as we read in books of the shameful exaction of the rights of feudal superior。 And yet here察beneath our very eyes察in our theatres察in our restaurants察and in many other places察unspeakable though it be but to name it察the same hideous abuse flourishes unchecked。 A young penniless girl察if she be pretty察is often hunted from pillar to post by her employers察confronted always by the alternativeStarve or Sin。 And when once the poor girl has consented to buy the right to earn her living by the sacrifice of her virtue察then she is treated as a slave and an outcast by the very men who have ruined her。 Her word becomes unbelievable察her life an ignominy察and she is swept downward ever downward察into the bottomless perdition of prostitution。 But there察even in the lowest depths察excommunicated by Humanity and outcast from God察she is far nearer the pitying heart of the One true Saviour than all the men who forced her down察aye察and than all the Pharisees and Scribes who stand silently by while these Fiendish wrongs are perpetrated before their very eyes。
The blood boils with impotent rage at the sight of these enormities察callously inflicted察and silently borne by these miserable victims。 Nor is it only women who are the victims察although their fate is the most tragic。 Those firms which reduce sweating to a fine art察who systematically and deliberately defraud the workman of his pay察who grind the faces of the poor察and who rob the widow and the orphan察and who for a pretence make great professions of public spirit and philanthropy察these men nowadays are sent to Parliament to make laws for the people。 The old prophets sent them to Hellbut we have changed all that。 They send their victims to Hell察and are rewarded by all that wealth can do to make their lives comfortable。 Read the House of Lords' Report on the Sweating System察and ask if any African slave system察making due allowance for the superior civilisation察and therefore sensitiveness察of the victims察reveals more misery。
Darkest England察like Darkest Africa察reeks with malaria。 The foul and fetid breath of our slums is almost as poisonous as that of the African swamp。 Fever is almost as chronic there as on the Equator。 Every year thousands of children are killed off by what is called defects of our sanitary system。 They are in reality starved and poisoned察and all that can be said is that察in many cases察it is better for them that they were taken away from the trouble to come。
Just as in Darkest Africa it is only a part of the evil and misery that comes from the superior race who invade the forest to enslave and massacre its miserable inhabitants察so with us察much of the misery of those whose lot we ar