The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1878-01-26 00:00:00

MR. STANLEY AND THE FRENCH
PRESS.

On Monday Mr. H. M. Stanley was entertained at lunch
by the representatives of the French and foreign press in
Paris, some sixty gentlemen assembling to do honour to the
llustrious traveller. In returning thanks for the toast of
his health, Mr. Stanley said :

The old Roman Emperors returning in triumph,
seated in their cars, generally had a slave crouching
loehind them to whisper in their ears, "Cesar, thou
art but a man ! " The assembly here to-day, called
the Cercle de in Presse de Paris' informs me that I
am but a journalist. Wherever I went in Africa
I was constantly told by my. conscience, by
all my principles and aspirations, that I was but a
journalist. When our energies were almost bowed
down by fatigue, when sickness compelled us
sometimes to yield to the malarial influence
of the climate, there was something which
always whispered within me, " I am but a
journalist." Then the natives on the Lualaba endea-
voured to intercept my passage to the ocean. In cern-
fronting them something reminded me that I was but
a journalist. Then at length I arrived on the shores
of the Atlantic, fatigued and hungry. I again remem-
bered that I was a journalist, and before even taking
a glass of wine or a biscuit to recruit my failing
strength, I at once jotted down a telegram, and de-
spatched a man with it it right down to the mouth of
the Congo. It was the journalistic instinct that
caused me to speed like an arrow to the Victoria, that
impelled me on my way through that untrodden land;
it was that journalistic instinct, that desire to have
perfectly accurate intelligence, that led me to turn
again, to go back to Ujiji, and finish what other ex-
explorers had left undone ; it was, if you please
to call it so, journalistic ambition that led me to say,
"I will not give it up; I will go and finish what
Livingstone has left undone." When at Nyangwe we
heard those stories of the credulous people who wanted
to frighten us back by their pictures of the dangers
we should have to encounter, I again remembered that
I was a journalist. I then said to myself, "I am a
soldier of journalism." (Loud cheers.) I know what
that title implies in its fullest signification, and I
have done my best—and I make a boast of it—
to add dignity to the name of journalism. (Loud
cheers.) You sometimes see journalists who decry
one another. I am not one of them. (Loud
cheers.) You read papers where men say of
one another, "He is only a penny-a-liner. I
have no sympathy with these men. I prefer the ad-
vice of St. Paul when he says, " Let brotherly love
continue." I say "Let it prevail." I think that if
there is one class of society in this world where
brotherly love is most wanted, it is among journalists.
(Laughter and cheers.) If I could to-day only instil
into each of the members present a spark of the esprit
de corps which I feel as a journalist, I should say the
happiest speech I ever made and the grandest success
I ever achieved was when I stood before the Cercle de
la Press° de Paris. (Cheers.)
_ _ _

Mr. Stanley concluded by assur:ng.r, the company
that his remembrance of the reception which he had
met with in Paris would only terminate with his life.

Mr. Stanley arrived at Folkestone by South Eastern
Railway Company's steamer Napoleon, at 4.35 on
Tuesday afternoon. He was met by the Mayor and
the members of the Corporation. Mr. Stanley in
reply to the greeting accorded him, said he was
delighted to see so large an assemblage to welcome
him. He had looked forward with pleasure to visit-
ing England. After some refreshment Mr. Stanley
proceeded to London.