OF Pitlvf}^ 
 
 2-14-27 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2015 
 
 https://archive.org/details/davidlivingstoneOOfing 
 
DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
DAVID LIVINGSTOJiE^,^ 
 
 Explorer and Prophet/^^^^ 
 
 by 
 
 1 4 192/ 
 
 CHARLES J. FINGER 
 
 GARDEN CITY NEW YORK 
 
 DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 
 1927 
 
COPYRIGHT. 1927, BY DOUBLEDAY. PAGE 
 & COMPANY. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 
 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES AT THE 
 COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y. 
 FIRST EDITION 
 
TO 
 M. M. 
 
 AND 
 
 CLAUDE MEEKER 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
PREFACE 
 
 In this book, I add nothing to the information 
 about Livingstone, but have tried to tell the story 
 of his life, chiefly as he and others recorded it, in 
 order that more may have the same delight in the 
 man and his history that I have had. I have put 
 down the simple facts as I found them, knowing that 
 imagined detail would be both pale and useless. 
 I have not tried to plunge deep and bring up a 
 mass of interpretive comment, because I think that 
 the surface Livingstone and his deeds will show 
 to any alert mind what he was to the core of him. 
 However, even in his case, some speculation is in- 
 evitable, and I have included very briefly the simple 
 explanations that have for me best rounded out the 
 story, but these may be easily distinguished from the 
 story, and skipped by anyone who doesn't agree with 
 them. The narrative alone has profound truth in it, 
 and the man whom it shows is, to me, among the 
 heroes. 
 
 I have said that I am a herald. The reply is easy 
 that no truly great man, living or dead a thousand 
 years, has ever needed a herald. Easy, but not 
 exactly true. We do not sing of our heroes as the 
 gleemen did of old, and the mere weight and binding 
 
 vii 
 
VIU 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 of a book may kill the knowledge of an adventurous 
 and noble life. 
 
 Step into the street and ask the first ten men you 
 meet what they know of Livingstone. The chances 
 are that you will find, even in the cases of good 
 churchmen who might be supposed to know, that 
 Livingstone's reputation is ridiculously less than it 
 should be. You may discover a hazy notion that he 
 was a missionary who did a little exploring on the 
 side and was connected in some way with another 
 explorer named Stanley, and that will be the net re- 
 sult of your quest. Or, if you widen your field of 
 investigation and go to librarians, you will find that 
 there is no loud call for the Journals. For my part, 
 I have found the tale of Livingstone's deeds to be 
 far better known by men who live in out-of-the-way 
 places, where a book is regarded as a rarity, than by 
 men living where books may be had for the asking. 
 And by out-of-the-way places I have in mind such 
 unfrequented spots as the lesser known parts of 
 Mexico, far northern Canada, the Andes country, 
 and that part of Africa near Cape Verde. For in 
 such odd corners of the world there are men who, 
 because of the benefit of experience, understand the 
 grandeur of what Livingstone did, and who cannot 
 regard the man as a mild and rather uninteresting 
 fellow doing nothing more than preaching and "going 
 about with a Bible under his arm," as Livingstone 
 himself, objecting to be taken for that kind of an 
 individual, derisively expressed it. 
 
 Your man of restricted life and experience is apt to 
 
DAVID LIVINGSTONE 13^ 
 
 pass the tale of a missionary as being dull and 
 unpromising, and so, when on adventure bent, will 
 often turn to the tales of Jesse James, or of Ned Kelly, 
 or of Rob Roy, or of Billy the Kid, perhaps unaware 
 that by so doing he is getting into the domain of 
 fiction and entirely missing the far more exciting 
 magic of the past as it was. But the magic of romantic 
 fact is known by hearsay and much valued by those 
 on border lands and frontiers; it is passed down from 
 mouth to mouth Uke the old hero tales of every race. 
 In South America while riding, or while smoking by 
 the camp fire, or under the stars while we lay in our 
 capas, we used sometimes to talk of those sterling 
 Jesuits of whom Cunninghame Graham wrote in his 
 Vanished Arcadia. And we talked of them, not be- 
 cause of idle interest, but because their work had 
 left its indelible mark on that part of men that is 
 sensitive to heroism. There was one tale of a mission- 
 ary, a popular one, which I knew to be true, because 
 I was one of the seamen in the schooner in which the 
 man of derring-do went to the place of his work, 
 which was Dawson Island. He was a young priest 
 burning with ambition to tame and teach the natives. 
 When we landed him, he bade us farewell, then went 
 up the beach, alone and unarmed. Suddenly, out of 
 the scrub, a native rushed at him with uplifted club. 
 But the priest stood where he was, his hands thrown 
 apart to show that he had no weapon, and somehow 
 things went without bloodshed. Two years later, 
 because of the man's efforts, there was a measure of 
 order in that place, and an affection had grown be- 
 
X 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 tween priest and Indian, much as it grew, as we shall 
 see, between Livingstone and his Zulus and Bushmen. 
 Then there was the oft-told tale of Allen Gardener, 
 the first missionary who ventured among that con- 
 fusion of islands near Cape Horn. Also, there was 
 the story of Thomas Bridges, my friend, who lived 
 near Ooshaia. We who sailed and dug for gold down 
 there knew how he tramped the country alone, how 
 he canoed in ice-burdened seas for the cause he had 
 at heart. We knew, also, that in his place were 
 warmth and welcome, a book and a meal for us, to 
 say nothing of medical relief when we suffered from 
 toothache or a dozen other little ills. I have said 
 enough to indicate that we, who were far from being 
 inclined to orthodoxy, looked with real respect and 
 admiration upon some of the missionaries, though 
 not all of them, as upstanding men who spent their 
 lives in strenuous defense of their faith; men who were 
 simple in their ways; men who were honest and 
 decent and laborious. It was a mark of esteem when 
 they were sometimes spoken of as "hard cases" and 
 thoroughbreds. 
 
 As to dull-appearing books, the neglect of an 
 interesting character, and the glory of discovering 
 him, let me tell briefly the tale of my own discovery, 
 and if the telling of it and the writing of this book 
 will send readers to Livingstone's Journals, I shall 
 count myself fortunate. 
 
 In the library of our mountain home there is a fire- 
 place that holds a three-foot log, and on winter eve- 
 nings it is mighty pleasant to sit about the blaze 
 
DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 playing games, or listening to music, or comparing 
 notes about the events of the day in school and field, 
 or more often listening while one of the circle reads 
 aloud. One night of rain and darkness, after a 
 circus had been to the neighboring town, our talk, 
 because of some piece of spectacular business done 
 in the show tent, chanced to fall on lions. I hap- 
 pened to remember a passage in a book that had 
 interested me tremendously as a boy, and that I had 
 heard discussed time and time again over camp fires. 
 So I took from the shelves Livingstone's Missionary 
 Travels, and read aloud the story of that wild day's 
 work when the African explorer, coming so near to 
 death, was injured for life. Now that adventure left 
 him in such shape that thereafter he could not hold 
 a rifle steady with his left arm, and had to have a 
 specially devised telescope stand that, screwed into 
 a tree, enabled him to get a steady sight. Yet, in 
 telling the story, he makes far less fuss than many a 
 man does when he tells of a visit to a dentist. And, 
 let me say, all faces were shining with interest while I 
 read. At the end, because the love of adventure had 
 prompted the greater part of our reading, there were 
 questions and queries as to why so fine and vivid a 
 piece of writing had been overlooked until then. For 
 there was clarity, veracity, and a subtly persuasive 
 humor, too, in what we had read. It was a story 
 stripped stark. There was the word picture of a man 
 in most terrible danger, flat on the ground with a 
 lion standing over him, caught by the shoulder and 
 being "shaken as a terrier dog shakes a rat." In it 
 
Xll 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 all there were no sham heroics; nothing was unreal. 
 "The shock," he writes, "caused a sort of dreaminess 
 in which there was no pain ... no feeling of 
 terror. ... It was like what patients partially 
 under the influence of chloroform describe. . . . 
 The shake annihilated fear and allowed no sense of 
 horror in looking round at the beast." There you have 
 the evidence of a truthful man. Reading the passage, 
 those who have known nearness to death by accident 
 are prepared to accept whatever Livingstone may 
 have to say in the future. I certainly was, for, 
 among some close calls, I remembered being washed 
 ashore after a shipwreck, when, in the midst of a 
 turmoil of waves and thunder and lightning, there 
 came a swift memory of an illustration I had seen 
 long before, of the fight between Guy of Gisborne 
 and Robin Hood; but certainly neither pain nor 
 feeling of terror. 
 
 Now there is not one of my family who is not a 
 reader, and the books are on open shelves for anyone 
 to see and to choose from, but because of the un- 
 promising title and the unattractive look of Living- 
 stone's first book (it has some eight hundred pages 
 and is bound like a law volume), they had passed 
 and repassed it when after absorbing narrative. 
 However, after hearing the lion adventure, all in the 
 room changed their manner of thinking. They did 
 not want to stop with the Hon incident, and neither 
 did L 
 
 Not to make too long a story of it, because of 
 Livingstone's interest we went through the book. 
 
DAVID LIVINGSTONE XUl 
 
 overstaying the usual bed hour, night after night, to 
 do so. Then, because it was all so vivid, because 
 Livingstone so obviously set down things as they 
 were, and because it was evident that there were 
 other wonders to be revealed, we followed Missionary 
 Travels with Expedition to the Zambesi, and that 
 ended, we plunged into the Last Journals, not by any 
 means because we felt we ought as a duty to round 
 out the whole, but as a matter of sheer enthusiasm. 
 And when we had done, there we were in the ordi- 
 nary things of everyday life, when things trivial and 
 annoying were to the fore, somehow helped by a 
 remembrance of Livingstone. Living, as it were, 
 with the man so intimately — for the reading of the 
 three books took some eight weeks — we had come to 
 look upon him and to know him as a lovable and 
 sweet-tempered friend. But we found imore than a 
 friend; we found one of those rare figures, thoroughly 
 men, yet touched with a sort of divinity, the memory 
 of whom is a hidden grail, giving food and drink to 
 the spirit. 
 
 Charles J. Finger. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTIK PAGE 
 
 I. The Scottish Boy i 
 
 II. His African Apprenticeship 17 
 
 III. Settlement at Mabotsa 37 
 
 IV. Through the Desert to the Zambesi ... 57 
 V. Linyanti 79 
 
 VI. The March to the Atlantic 108 
 
 VII. Victoria Falls and Home 139 
 
 VIII. Fighting the Slave Trade 168 
 
 IX. Sorrow and Apparent Defeat 191 
 
 X. Drawing the Map of Africa 213 
 
 XI. Livingstone and Stanley 234 
 
 XII. The Last March 258 
 
 Appendix 
 
 I. A Short Outline of David Livingstone's Life 279 
 
 II. A Short List of Books 281 
 
 TIL Report of Livingstone's Death, Based on 
 Musa's Story, made to Lord Clarendon, 
 Minister of Foreign Affairs, by Dr. G. E. 
 
 Seward, Consul at Zanzibar .... 282 
 IV. Report to Sir Roderick Murchison, President 
 of the Royal Geographical Society, Made 
 by Lieutenant E. D. Young, Commander 
 
 of the First Livingstone Search Expedition 286 
 
 Index 295 
 
DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 HAT Livingstone gives us of his early life is 
 
 ▼ f contained in the eight pages of introduction to 
 Missionary Travels, and those data, I should not be 
 astonished to learn, are an afterthought, written 
 because his publishers insisted upon some personal 
 detail when they discovered that he had said nothing 
 at all about himself. Being a generous soul and big 
 enough to take advice, he did what he could, but put 
 the information in as inconspicuous a form and as 
 small a compass as was decently possible, and then, 
 with a sigh of relief, pushed the whole thing out of 
 sight and mind, to go on with that which he took 
 to be far more important than himself — his life's 
 work. "My own inclination would lead me to say 
 as little as possible about myself" are his opening 
 words, then he falls to talking about his great- 
 grandfather. 
 
 Scattered through several pages of honorable and 
 chivalrous descriptions of his early surroundings and 
 friends — of his mother, of his schoolmaster, of an old 
 quarryman and others — we find the structural facts 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE SCOTTISH BOY 
 
2 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 of his early life. He was born March 19, 1813, at 
 Blantyre Works, in Lanarkshire, near Glasgow, Scot- 
 land, the second child of Neil Livingston and Agnes 
 Hunter. That was the spelling of his father's name, 
 and of his own until later in his life. Beginning at 
 the age of ten, he worked for thirteen years in a 
 cotton mill — nine years as a piecer and four as a 
 spinner. Then, for two sessions, he studied medicine 
 and Greek at Anderson's College, Glasgow, and also 
 attended a theological class. In 1838 he was accepted 
 by the London Missionary Society. He continued his 
 studies, and in 1840 received a medical degree from 
 the Faculty of Physicians and Surgeons, Glasgow. 
 He sailed for Africa, as a missionary, on December 8, 
 1840. 
 
 These facts are bare enough and can be found any- 
 where, but to anyone who knows a bit about boy- 
 hood and a bit about Nineteenth Century Scotland 
 and reflects a moment, they will be rich with meaning. 
 Also, we learn something from Livingstone's brief 
 account. We get a hint that he always liked to 
 wander about the country when he was a lad, finding 
 his walks good, wholesome, invigorating, without 
 knowing it. A walk of ten miles in a day was nothing 
 much for a Scotch laddie in those days. But he gives 
 less space to the tale of his boyhood days than he does 
 to a word picture of an old Peninsular soldier who 
 interested him. He gives a hint of pride in his great- 
 grandfather, who fell at the battle of CuUoden, fight- 
 ing for the old line of kings; he tells pleasantly of his 
 grandfather, who had a mind stuffed full of old tales, 
 
THE SCOTTISH BOY 
 
 3 
 
 "many of which were wonderfully like those . . . 
 heard while sitting by the African evening fires"; he 
 tells of the old Gaelic songs which his grandmother 
 sang. He quotes an ancestor, some stout old islander, 
 whose last words were held dear as signifying the 
 moral strength of the Livingstone stock, thus: "Now, 
 in my Hfetime, I have searched most carefully 
 through all the traditions I could find of our family, 
 and I never could discover that there was a dishonest 
 man among our forefathers. If, therefore, any of you 
 or any of your children should take to dishonest 
 ways, it will not be because it runs in our blood; 
 it does not belong to you. I leave this precept with 
 you: *Be Honest,'" Quoting that, Livingstone 
 adds a hope that should he, in the account of his 
 travels, fall into errors, they must be taken as honest 
 mistakes, and "not as indicating that I have for- 
 gotten our ancient motto." Of his father he gives a 
 hint of a man "too conscientious to become rich as a 
 small tea-dealer," who, by kindliness of manner and 
 winning ways, "made the heartstrings of his children 
 twine around him." The picture of his mother is 
 that of "the anxious housewife striving to make both 
 ends meet." 
 
 There, sketched in the rough, are Livingstone's 
 background and surroundings as given by himself. 
 But consider the second item of the brief summary — 
 the going to work. It will stand more than the 
 bare mention that Livingstone accords it. 
 
 In his middle age, Livingstone records with quiet 
 complacency an event that most men would regard 
 
4 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 as an intolerable calamity. "At the age of ten I 
 was put into a factory as a piecer," he says, and adds 
 that it w^as because the family had much ado in mak- 
 ing both ends meet. At the age of ten, let it be noted, 
 an age v^^hen most children rightly think of play- 
 grounds as their just due, young David was shoulder- 
 ing the burden that he never afterward dropped. 
 At a time of life when most of us look upon shelter 
 and food and warmth as things to which we are by 
 natural right entitled, there was the lad at work from 
 six in the morning until eight at night, long after the 
 lamplighters had made their rounds, carrying things 
 at a fast trot from floor to floor all day. He was 
 up by candlelight at five, in the gray chill of a Scotch 
 morning. After porridge there was a running over 
 cobblestones in the face of a scowthering wind to be 
 at the factory on time. His only music was the dull 
 murmur of machinery. His workaday world was 
 limited by the four brick walls of an ill-lighted, poorly 
 ventilated, indiff"erently warmed factory. His com- 
 panions were simple and narrow beings unconcerned 
 with visions. Yet, with it all, you find no touch of 
 regret, no air of complaint either in boy or in man. 
 Once, in a reminiscent mood, when he was well on in 
 years, he wrote about that period of his life, saying: 
 "it formed a material part of my education, and were 
 I to begin fife over again, I should like to pass through 
 the same hardy training." No whining about op- 
 portunities lacking, you will notice, but, instead, a 
 sort of glow because of the memory of pleasant 
 activity. Indeed, perhaps, in looking back, there 
 
THE SCOTTISH BOY 
 
 5 
 
 was in him an unexpressed joy because he recognized 
 his own qualities of daring and perseverance. For, 
 hard though the road had been when he set out to 
 travel the highway of hfe, yet there were flowers by 
 the wayside — marketable berries, too. 
 
 To explain: Somehow there was, in the boy, the 
 idea that he was born to grow. Somehow he had 
 grasped the fact that time misspent was lost forever. 
 Somehow he had a purpose, a goal, a direction. So 
 he saw opportunity where many of us would have 
 found blank discouragement. 
 
 Those were days when a factory was a manufactory, 
 when endless carriers, and elevators, and labor- 
 saving contrivances had not been dreamed of, conse- 
 quently, much of the lad's work was running back 
 and forth, and up and down, from one part of the 
 building to another, his arms piled with material. 
 He had come to grips with life, and henceforth the 
 blue sky and the heather and the river had to be 
 memories only. But there was this: His path to and 
 fro took him past a spinning jenny at which sat a 
 friendly man, and the piece of machinery had a flat 
 place, a sort of little shelf on which a book might be 
 set. That was item number one. Item number 
 two, as the boy saw it, was that while the factory 
 >/ owners had bought his body for fourteen hours a day 
 and he was minded to do his full stint in return, yet 
 there were empty hours for the mind, and those 
 empty hours had to be filled, for the mind was fresh 
 and quick and hungry. So, with part of his first 
 week's wages, he bought a second-hand copy of 
 
6 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 Ruddiman's Rudiments of Latin, for he had figured 
 out a way to turn the track that he trod all day into 
 a path of knowledge. It could be done, he saw, in 
 justice to his employer; for there was that family ^ 
 motto to be kept in mind. Then, the cotton-spinner 
 at the machine making no objection, David set the ^ 
 open book on a ledge of a machine that he passed 
 and repassed all day, and, lo and behold! he had 
 entered the doors of his university. For he read as he 
 ran. 'One trip meant one sentence seized; another 
 trip the sentence following, and between times and 
 away from his book were the moments of reflection 
 and digestion, "To this part of my education," he 
 wrote, long afterward, "I owe my present power of ^ 
 completely abstracting the mind from surrounding 
 noises, so as to be able to read and write with perfect 
 comfort amid the play of children or near the dancing 
 and songs of savages." It reads strangely enough in 
 these days of advanced and generous sympathies. 
 
 He read enormously, almost everything but fiction, 
 for in those days, among sober-minded people the 
 reading of fiction was looked upon and roundly con- 
 demned, both in kirk and home, as an idle habit and a 
 wasting of good time. Probably he needed no fiction 
 to stimulate his imagination or amuse him. There 
 was geography. The study of that has always fed 
 imagination, and in those days there were vast 
 blank spaces marked "Unexplored" running across 
 Asia, and AustraUa, and South America, and Africa. 
 Over those he pondered, wondering, speculating, 
 and, Hke Barthema, always full of a desire to "see 
 
 I 
 
THE SCOTTISH BOY 
 
 7 
 
 how places are." Geography led to history, to 
 geology, to theoretical navigation. There were 
 incursions into medicine, mathematics, ornithology, 
 theology. He read Virgil and came to love his 
 inimitable music. He came to know and to appreci- 
 ate that Horace who never frets nor fumes, who in- 
 spires to sane and truthful living, who drills away 
 good-humoredly at the fact that happiness is not 
 from without, but from within. From occasional 
 remarks in the Journals we know that he read Pepys, 
 and Sir Thomas Browne, and Burton of the Anatomy 
 of Melancholy. And always what he read he stored 
 away, memorized, held to so fast that almost it seems 
 as if he foresaw his Hfe of isolation, when memory 
 must serve for hbrary and companionship. 
 
 Thus, at the age of ten, the boy started on a Hfe of 
 amazing activity. At ten he was a thoroughbred, 
 keen to the call of a self-imposed duty. At ten he 
 had a sense of responsibihty, was self-reliant, inde- 
 pendent. For it takes some doing for a lad to be 
 unafraid of being dubbed bookish. We imagine him, 
 somewhat slim but wiry, eyes bright and shining, 
 walking with a springing step, forcefulness and firm- 
 ness in every inch of him, always hastening — from 
 home to factory, from factory to home. At home, 
 there were little household duties which he was will- 
 ing to do if no publicity attended them. "Mother, 
 if ye'U close fast the door, I'll scrub the floor," he told 
 her, for he balked a little at the idea of doing woman's 
 work, and, later, recalled his pleasant vanity and 
 atoned for it much as did Dr. Johnson in that Litch- 
 
8 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 field affair. But he had Httle time for housework, 
 for there was a night school where classes were held 
 between nine and ten every evening, and David was 
 a scholar. Nor were his manifold engagements at an 
 end at ten. Books were to be read, lessons to be 
 prepared, new fields of knowledge had to be touched. 
 So, by the hght of a tallow candle he read until, very 
 often, his mother came down and carried away the 
 candlestick. 
 
 After nine years of heavy work, David Livingstone 
 was promoted to the position of cotton-spinner, and 
 of the new work he has this to say: "While the toil 
 . . . was excessively severe on a slim, loose- 
 jointed lad ... it was well paid for; and it 
 enabled me to support myself while attending medi- 
 cal and Greek classes in Glasgow, in the winter, 
 as also the divinity lectures of Dr. Wardlow, by 
 working with my hands in summer. I never received 
 a farthing of aid from anyone, and should have ac- 
 complished my project of going to China as a medi- 
 cal missionary, in the course of time, by my own 
 efforts, had not some friends advised my joining 
 the London Missionary Society on account of its 
 unsectarian character." 
 
 During those years in the factory, he had become 
 firmly convinced that missionary activity was to be 
 his chief concern in life. But he wanted to be a 
 new kind of missionary, one doing his chosen work 
 without asking favors or taking orders from any man 
 or from any organization. He wanted to be himself 
 complete, from top to toe. He wanted to go to China, 
 
THE SCOTTISH BOY 
 
 9 
 
 not only educating himself, but paying his own 
 passage to his chosen field, outfitting his own camp, 
 and, at last in the place where he yearned to be, 
 building his own mission station. But China was 
 then aflame with the beginnings of the trouble that 
 grew into the Opium War, so by no effort of the 
 imagination could he see himself doing effective work 
 there for many years to come, even if he could get into 
 the country, which was doubtful. Still, he felt that 
 life was slipping away with unutterable rapidity and 
 that, if he was to do something, he had to do it soon. 
 
 Quite surprisingly, the way that he sought seemed 
 to open through the London Missionary Society. 
 To be sure, as a worker in that body, he would have 
 to surrender some of that stiff-necked independence 
 on which he prided himself, but, as an offset to that, 
 there were definite advantages. That organization 
 placed no insistence upon trivial distinctions of sect, 
 and, he hoped, might be induced to leave him with 
 some measure of freedom, perhaps almost as free as 
 he yearned to be. In the end, refusing to allow 
 independence to be merged in obstinacy, Livingstone 
 put aside a little of his distaste for asking favors, and 
 made application for employment by the London 
 Society. He was accepted provisionally, so set off 
 for London, and arrived there September i, 1838, his 
 age being then twenty-five. 
 
 Now, in those days, in London, what with the 
 opening of the new railroad to Birmingham and 
 people objecting to it on the ground that it would 
 tend to lead country lads to the city and demoralize 
 
10 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 them; what with the Chartists showing the way to a 
 new Utopia and being denounced as enemies to 
 society; what with Paganini charming the world with 
 his music and being suspected of strange and un- 
 earthly powers; what with Charles Kean electrifying 
 his audiences with his Shakespearean portrayals and 
 others denouncing the stage as a potent evil; what 
 with the frivolities of Cremorne and Vauxhall gardens; 
 take it all in all, there were plenty of excitements. 
 But none of these were for David Livingstone. He 
 met another young enthusiast, Joseph Moore, who 
 afterward won a name for himself in Tahiti, and the 
 two of them made a little pilgrimage to St. Paul's 
 Cathedral. They also went to Westminster Abbey, 
 where, thirty-six years later, Livingstone's body was 
 laid in the central nave, England standing in rever- 
 ence the while, as for some high minister of state, or, 
 indeed, as for her ruler, for David Livingstone was 
 buried with England's kings. 
 — ' One may very well pause and wonder about this 
 young David Livingstone, come up to London as so 
 many young men, watched by Fate, had done before 
 him. The reHgious zeal of the young Scot is easy 
 enough to explain, it is also easy to see why long 
 hours in a factory and the reading of geography had 
 given him a yearning to look beyond far mountains; 
 strong independence of a young man of such a boy- 
 hood is not surprising. That's one explanation. 
 Another, equally plausible, is that David Livingstone 
 had it in the brain and blood and bone of him to be 
 among the great explorers, and that almost nothing 
 
THE SCOTTISH BOY 
 
 II 
 
 could have kept him from his inherited destiny. 
 Probably both ideas have truth in them. Then there 
 are certain conversations between the young man 
 and a man who had done things, who had seen 
 beyond the mountains, and who was still eager for 
 the trail. All great urges are a tangle, and who 
 shall dare theorize on what has started them and 
 what is in them? Yet I would hazard a guess that in 
 Livingstone, deeper and stronger than the desire to 
 spread the word of his God, deeper and stronger even 
 than his desire to heal and help the suffering children 
 of the jungle, was, from beginning to end, the great 
 
 passion to look into the heart of darkness. , 
 
 And now, the conversations I have mentioned. 
 One day there had come to the house in London 
 where Livingstone was staying, a certain Dr. Robert 
 Moffat, an old lion of an African missionary who had 
 his station some seven hundred miles up country at 
 a place called Kuruman. Now, Livingstone was 
 itching to talk with the Doctor because of a certain 
 reputation for deeds of derring-do that clung to the 
 man. He had gone farther afield than anyone else 
 in the African mission campaign. He lived on the 
 edge of unexplored lands. He had tackled the wild 
 Hottentot outlaw and robber named Afrikaner, and 
 somehow led him into civil ways. It was the same 
 Moffat who had translated the Bible into the Bechu- 
 ana tongue and then set to work to teach natives to 
 read; preparing goods, as it were, then creating a 
 market and demand for them. It was the Moffat who 
 walked about in new and strange lands as though the 
 
.12 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 earth had been made for him and he had a clear title 
 to go whithersoever he chose. All that delighted 
 Livingstone, so the young enthusiast sought out the 
 man, told him about his hopes, asked him for a word 
 or two of advice, then pricked his ears while the 
 formidable old lion talked straight from the shoulder. 
 He told Livingstone many things, but not from a 
 standpoint of tradition or authority. He said that 
 a missionary might be a soft-handed loafer and a 
 parasite on society, or he might be something well 
 worth a man's while. It depended upon the man and 
 not on the coat or the office. There were too many, 
 he insisted, who considered all done when they had 
 tagged themselves as missionaries. If Livingstone 
 really meant serious business, if he indulged in no 
 erroneous and fanciful notions, if he had vision and 
 vitality, then tremendous things were possible. " Do 
 not sit down in lazy contentment," he told him. 
 "Do not choose an old station. Push on. Push on 
 to the vast unoccupied and unknown district to the 
 north. In that direction, on a clear morning, I 
 have seen the smoke of a thousand villages. There, 
 no missionary has ever been. There, sir, is your 
 field." 
 
 There were other conversations, which Livingstone 
 found astonishingly good, talks about Africa's brief 
 history, and about the deeds both glorious and 
 shameful that had been done. There were tales of 
 ventures that had failed and men who had died, 
 but these did not affect young Livingstone's un- 
 quenchable hopefulness. They talked of the saiHng 
 
THE SCOTTISH BOY 
 
 13 
 
 of Captain Stubbs up the Gambia in 1723; of the 
 commencement of Bruce's travels in 1768; of Mungo 
 Park's first attempt in 1795, and his second, from 
 which he did not return, in 1804. There had been 
 other attempts, not very fruitful of knowledge, as 
 when Salt, and Burckhardt, and Campbell, and 
 Hornemann went on expeditions, touching the fringe 
 of things, between 1805 and 1816; but none of them 
 had gone into the blank places shown on the map. 
 Indeed, the only thorough piece of work had been 
 that of the Niger expedition. In that, a reliable 
 survey had been made of the river Niger by Mr. 
 Macgregor Laird of Liverpool, accompanied by his 
 friend Lauder and Lieutenant William Allen — but 
 they had not touched the vast tract, to pierce which 
 became a passion in Livingstone's heart. As for 
 Zululand, through which Livingstone would have to 
 pass, that was a place of disorder and bloodshed. 
 Tradition said it had been peopled by a peaceful 
 pastoral folk. But a chief named Godongwana had 
 arisen, "The Wanderer," men called him. He had 
 formed a celibate army, but had been killed by his 
 ally, Chaka. Chaka in turn had been assassinated by 
 his brother, the treacherous Dingaan, and thence- 
 forth the land had become a war-swept one, Zulu 
 fighting Boer, English fighting Zulu, until both 
 Boer and British suffered reverses. 
 Whatever had been there before, that talk with 
 V Moffat lighted a flame in the young Scot's heart. 
 A new vision grew, which some called a fanatic's 
 dream, and the young man was all a-tingle to push 
 
14 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 on. His life's story is how he did that — steadily, 
 continuously, persistently, always with glorious 
 courage. 
 
 After a preliminary examination, Livingstone and 
 Moore were sent to the little town of Chipping Ongar, 
 northeast of London and near Epping Forest, where, 
 under a tutor, there were to be three months of 
 intensive study, of discussion, of looking into the real 
 content of religion, of making certain that the young 
 men were ardent enthusiasts and not spineless 
 creatures with passing emotions who would shift 
 from track to track, and, with the first hardship, 
 fall exhausted and despairing. 
 
 All went very well, with Livingstone full of exul- 
 tation, making a briUiant record, marching like a 
 conqueror, until the pathetic little alfFair at Stanmore, 
 when in his overwrought mind there chanced to 
 come, for an instant, a blank. Livingstone gives no 
 account of it, probably dismissing it as a negligible 
 incident, but Joseph Moore told the tale in all kindli- 
 ness, rejoicing that his friend overrode the difficulty. 
 At the village of Stanmore, which is close to Chipping 
 Ongar, the vicar fell ill and so sent to Livingstone's 
 tutor asking for a substitute minister for a day. 
 Livingstone was sent. 
 
 Now part of the tutor's training was to the end 
 that there might be a proper preaching of sermons 
 without notes, the sermons having been written and 
 committed to memory after the tutor's correction and 
 approval. In those days, in all educational circles, 
 immense stress was laid upon the importance of 
 
THE SCOTTISH BOY 
 
 15 
 
 training the memory. Ministers memorized sermons; 
 schoolboys committed long poems to memory; music 
 students played without notes before them; ordinary, 
 everyday readers learned poems that they found in 
 corners of newspapers. So the task before Living- 
 stone was no exceptional one. At Stanmore some- 
 thing got utterly and inexplicably out of gear. He 
 could not eat. He was nervous and strangely rest- 
 less. Being asked to conduct a prayer meeting in a 
 private home, he grew confused. On Sunday, in the 
 church, he gave out his text, "reading it very de- 
 liberately," says Moore, then stopped, hesitating 
 and distraught. His eloquence, his sermon, his very 
 message had fled. The congregation saw his dis- 
 comfort, the members were full of intense sympathy, 
 and he was conscious of their solicitude. In his 
 desperation he threw out his hands, saying: " Friends, 
 I have forgotten all that I had to say," and then left 
 the place. It was disastrous, but he met the issue 
 squarely. It seemed to be an end of things. At the 
 test he had failed, and his castle was a tumbled house 
 of cards, for Mr. Cecil, the tutor, reported the failure 
 to headquarters. However, because of the young 
 man's sterling qualities the examiners gave him 
 another opportunity, and then there was no failure. 
 
 Indeed, everything went well and smoothly and 
 swiftly, and many a man about to take a common- 
 place journey in a railroad train is more deliberate 
 by far than was Livingstone when making final 
 preparation to leave his native land, as he thought, 
 forever. On November 16, 1840, he passed his 
 
i6 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 examination and was given his diploma as Licentiate 
 of the Faculty of Physicians and Surgeons of Glas- 
 gow; four days later, he passed his examination for 
 missionary service. Two weeks after that, on 
 December 8th, he was a passenger on board the ship 
 George, bound for Algoa Bay. You picture him a 
 radiant figure, bright-eyed and cheerful because the 
 world of his chosen activity was before him, and be- 
 cause of a goal never before attempted. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 HIS AFRICAN APPRENTICESHIP 
 
 THE route sailed was a circuitous one, and it was 
 five months before the George dropped anchor in 
 Algoa Bay. They touched Rio de Janeiro, and laid 
 up a month at Capetown. But while on board 
 Livingstone studied navigation, learned the use of 
 the quadrant, and, between whiles, when the captain 
 " rigged out the ship for church on Sundays," preached 
 sermons to the sailors. But "no spiritual good was 
 done to anyone on board," he wrote. 
 
 During the month at Capetown he had his eyes 
 opened, and he heard much that caused a subtle 
 change in him. I say that because it is hard for an 
 age like ours to understand the silent rage that filled 
 Livingstone when he heard of the horrors of the slave ^ 
 trade and of conditions generally up country. And 
 he did hear much during the month he stayed at 
 Capetown. For there were truthful tongues, and 
 there were tongues that distorted and poisoned 
 truth. We of to-day remember certain things, but 
 only as far-away horrors. We know that the com- 
 merce in human beings had brutalized a tract of 
 country some four million square miles in extent. 
 We know that England abolished the slave trade in 
 the year 1807. We know that the United States set 
 
 17 
 
i8 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 its face against the evil in 1862. But when we think 
 of the slave trade, it is in terms of involuntary servi- 
 tude, knowing by history and tradition only one 
 phase of it, and that something, at least, like the 
 concrete picture presented by Harriet Beecher Stowe 
 in her book, Uncle Tom's Cabin. Of the phase before 
 that, of the traffic in slaves and all that the traffic im- 
 pUed, we have little conception. David Livingstone 
 came to know much he had never even suspected, 
 and it all struck him with so forcible a shock that he 
 had to restrain his emotions. He heard]of raids made 
 by Boers and by renegade Englishmen upon native 
 villages. He heard stories of men, women, and 
 children stolen. He heard of a ship at sea packed 
 with slaves, far closer packed than men pack cattle, 
 on which ophthalmia had broken out so that all on 
 board were blind — slaves, officers, slave-drivers, 
 seamen, and steersmen; and the ship went wildly, 
 the sport of the winds and storms. There were fear- 
 ful tales of inhuman cruelties done by Portuguese 
 and Arab traders; of slaves too weak to walk being 
 beheaded, or having their hands and feet chopped off 
 and thus left in the jungle. It was told, and with 
 truth, that sick slaves were thrown overboard, and 
 that living cargoes were deliberately drowned when 
 a slave ship was chased, just as contraband liquor 
 is thrown away when coast-guard men chase smug- 
 glers. There were tales, too, of commissions having 
 been issued by "the Grace of God," with Divine 
 guidance implored for the captains of slavers, who 
 were to barter rum for children; of slave decks no 
 
HIS AFRICAN APPRENTICESHIP I9 
 
 more than five feet in height so that men were stowed 
 "spoon fashion," lying on their sides. He heard 
 incredible stories and found them to be true, things 
 like the report of a naval officer, who, being put in 
 charge of a captured slaver, wrote: "The slaves filled 
 the waist and gangways in a fearful jam, for there 
 were over seven hundred men, women, boys and 
 young girls. Not even a waist cloth can be per- 
 mitted among slaves aboard ship, since clothing 
 so slight would breed disease. To ward off death 
 I ordered that at daylight the negroes should be 
 taken in squads of twenty and given a salt bath by 
 the hose pipe . . . and when they were carried 
 below trained slaves received the wretches one by one 
 and laying each creature on his side, packed the next 
 close against him, and so on, . . . till they 
 fitted into one another, a living mass." The more 
 Livingstone heard, the more impatient he was to get 
 to the dim jungle where men were more vicious in 
 their cruelty than beasts. 
 
 And at this time, when there was a message of good 
 will to be carried afield, when there was an evil sys- 
 tem to be overthrown, at Capetown, he found many v 
 of his brother missionaries hanging close to towns and 
 settlements, talking, talking, talking — doing any- 
 thing but contemplating conflicts away to the north, 
 where trouble was. He found them at cross pur- 
 poses, some ready to denounce the natives as creatures 
 cumbering the earth, some maintaining that white 
 men should hold in subjection the dark-skinned 
 people who could not or would not utilize the land 
 
20 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 for the full benefit of mankind, and still others who 
 denounced the white colonists as being eager for the 
 spoliation of Africa, but no one doing anything to 
 mitigate evil. Some, it almost seemed, were com- 
 placent in its presence, or if not that, then were use- 
 lessly talking and writing and hiding themselves 
 from it in a tangle of disputation. Wherever Living- 
 stone went, there were men dinning into his ears their 
 opinions, their tales of woe, their advocated methods 
 of settling colonial affairs, the sorry history of their 
 own truncated endeavors, their tales of poUtical and 
 social and moral corruption. There was the young 
 enthusiast giving ear, but privately sorting gold from 
 dross, throwing overboard delusive things, exercising 
 his own competent criticism and arriving at honest 
 convictions. 
 
 We see Capetown in those days as a sort of growing 
 colony very much like many of our inland towns, one 
 in which everybody knew everybody. There are no 
 records showing what the population was when 
 Livingstone landed there, but it was probably much 
 less than a hundred thousand, mostly British emi- 
 grants. The young missionary came as a novelty to 
 them. And, while it was known that he was on his 
 way to Algoa Bay, there were invitations to him to 
 preach in the church of Dr. Philip, the agent for the 
 Missionary Society. Preach he did, talking straight 
 from the shoulder, thinking aloud with unflinching 
 integrity. As a result, he was accused of heterodoxy 
 by some of the church members. There were others 
 who repudiated him, others again who challenged 
 
HIS AFRICAN APPRENTICESHIP 
 
 21 
 
 him as a dangerous theorist and innovator. For in- 
 stead- of droning platitudes and saying old things he 
 had said that there was too much talking and far too 
 Httle doing; and that the central core of Christianity- 
 was benevolence. That his preaching would cost 
 him something, he knew, but he was prepared to pay 
 the price. His contention was that if, in the face of 
 social and moral ills, Christians lacked cohesion, 
 then they were weakened to a point of uselessness. 
 He took the stand that bland nebulosity and muddled 
 well-meaning arrived nowhere. In short, he was 
 setting forth his whole system of values, arrived at 
 by long travail, so had little patience with hasty and 
 limited theorists, and said so in no hesitating way. 
 As a result, there were petty intrigues and social 
 scorn. Of course, he cared for neither, but, years 
 afterward, as we shall see, when Livingstone had for- 
 gotten all those imagined offences of his, some who 
 had not forgotten paraded their animosities and 
 hampered him. But how should mischievous con- 
 troversy and petty fault-finding affect this man? 
 How should those without imagination and dis- 
 interested intellect know of his rich and wonderful 
 dreams? "This church," he wrote to his old tutor, 
 "is a house divided against itself. . . . They 
 don't deserve a good pastor, and I don't see anything 
 for them but dissolution and being remodeled." So 
 he brushed the matter aside, then smiled and went 
 on with his plans. 
 
 That little flurry and stir of commonplace jealousy 
 might be left unmentioned, were it not for the fact 
 
22 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 that, if we fail to see David Livingstone as a brave 
 man doing things without letting his mind be cor- 
 rupted and his purpose weakened, as he had when a 
 boy, and doing all without display or heroics, much 
 of the extraordinary work that he did later, in the 
 way of exploration while facing tremendous difficul- 
 ties, may seem to be more than humanly possible. 
 But his unwavering courage of the mind, conditioning 
 every action, must be fully recognized. It was the 
 central fact of his character. 
 
 When, after the month at Capetown, the ship 
 George arrived in Algoa Bay, Livingstone was restless 
 until the ox wagon was equipped and ready to start 
 on the seven-hundred-mile journey up country to 
 the Moffat station at Kuruman. So keen was his 
 longing to stand on the hilltop and see for himself 
 the smoke of the thousand villages in unexplored 
 land, that he had already asked permission of his 
 superiors to go forward wheresoever he chose, at the 
 first opportunity. For that permission he had to bide 
 his time. 
 
 Once started on the way to Kuruman, he was as 
 high-spirited as an adventurous boy, delighting in the 
 unexpected and the novel every mile of the way. His 
 first book and his letters fairly bubble with his de- 
 light. Everything that he saw he found refreshing and 
 sustaining. All was brighter and better than the pic- 
 tures of his imagination. As the ox wagons lumbered 
 along the valleys, he climbed neighboring hills, and, 
 seeing valley and ridge far as the eye could reach, 
 wrote home that it reminded him of Scotland, but 
 
HIS AFRICAN APPRENTICESHIP 23 
 
 with a Sterner and grander note. He hobnobbed with 
 Hottentots and discovered them to be "superior in 
 attainments" to what he had expected. He rode with 
 them in their wagon for four days, and, watching 
 them, was reminded "of the old Covenanters praising 
 God amongst their native wilds." The vast star- 
 sprinkled heavens, the halting at night, the making of 
 camp when the sun had fallen — these excited him 
 pleasantly. "I like this traveling very much indeed," 
 he wrote, "there is so much freedom in our African 
 manners. We pitch our tent, make our fire, wherever 
 we choose; walk, ride, or shoot at game, as our in- 
 clination leads us; but there is a great drawback — we 
 can't study or read as we please. I feel this very much, 
 and have made very little progress in the language." 
 
 There are signs aplenty that for the man who had 
 known no fun as a child life had suddenly become a 
 stream of untroubled happiness. Cooped and hedged 
 as he had been until then, there had poured into him 
 suddenly the exaltation of the open, and that exalta- 
 tion never left him. As in the case of Richard JefFeries, 
 and many another, sudden fullness of physical life 
 caused a hunger of the spirit and a speculation on his 
 chances for the good hfe. In the end, he knew that he 
 could submit to a severe discipline and go without 
 many things cheerfully if it would make men happier 
 and let him look beyond the hills. Something Hke 
 that was the effect of the new environment. 
 
 He felt that he had touched the fringe of things 
 when the ox train reached Kuruman on the last day 
 of July, 1 841. The getting there had been extraor- 
 
24 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 dinarily good fun, but it left him bursting with 
 energy, and he felt that it was time to get down to 
 work. There were many problems and many duties, 
 and he chose the duty that lay nearest. He began to 
 practise medicine, and soon his fame ran from hill 
 to hill. His facility for enthusiasm in his work is re- 
 vealed in a letter that he wrote to his Scotch medical 
 instructor as soon as he got his bearings. "I have an 
 immense practice," he wrote. " Patients walk a hun- 
 dred and thirty miles for my advice. . . . They 
 have more disease than I expected. They are nearly 
 naked, and endure the scorching heat of the day and 
 the chills at night in that condition. Add to this 
 that they are absolutely omnivorous. Indigestion, 
 rheumatism, ophthalmia are the prevailing diseases. 
 . . . They are excellent patients, too. There is 
 no wincing; everything prescribed is done instanter. 
 Their only faihng is that they get tired of a long 
 course, but in any operation even the women sit 
 unmoved." Time and time again, in later writings, 
 he testifies to the fortitude of the natives. "I told 
 him [a boy sick with dysentery, with which Living- 
 stone also suffered at the time] that people moaned 
 only when too ill to be sensible of what they were 
 doing; the groaning ceased, though he became worse." 
 That is only a minor case. There are other passages, 
 many others, in which Livingstone has much to say 
 in praise of the natives' powers of resistance, of their 
 solemn patience under pain and hunger and cold and 
 weariness, of their hearty good will and good humor 
 in trying circumstances. 
 
HIS AFRICAN APPRENTICESHIP 2^ 
 
 As soon as Livingstone had a smattering of the 
 language, he swung a wide circle in the Bakwain 
 country in company with some trading agents and 
 another missionary. That trip took three months, 
 and during it he came to learn how little he really 
 knew of the natives and their ways. He also learned 
 how problems which seemed simple, grew complex 
 upon closer inspection. There were natives, with 
 not only one kind of white man to deal with, but 
 several; these white men who held themselves to be 
 members of a superior race all for trading and 
 cheating and stealing; those preaching fair dealing; 
 one group of white men carrying blood and rapine 
 in their trail; another preaching gentleness and non- 
 resistance. What was more, Livingstone found in 
 the natives some who seemed to have all the virtues 
 he thought to instill into them, some who were men 
 of force and ability, others as full of cunning and 
 trickery as the white traders. English traders were 
 selling to the natives those articles the Boers did not 
 wish the natives to have— arms and ammunition. 
 Boers, again, did terrible things; made friends with 
 natives that were planning attacks upon neighboring 
 tribes, then, when the tribe to be attacked was 
 reached, says Livingstone, "the friendly natives are 
 ranged in front, to form, as they say, a shield," when 
 "the Boers fire over their heads till the devoted 
 people flee and leave cattle, wives, and children to 
 the captors. This was done in nine cases during my 
 residence in the interior, and on no occasion was a 
 drop of Boer's blood shed." As for native attacks 
 
26 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 on the whites, in spite of all reports to the contrary, 
 Livingstone affirms that "history does not contain a 
 single instance in which the Bechuanas, even those 
 who possess firearms, have attacked either the Boers 
 or the Enghsh." During that swing into the country 
 around Kuruman, Livingstone gained more first- 
 hand information than he well knew what to do with. 
 Also, he had his first experience with the slave-trade 
 evil. 
 
 Take a typical incident of the trip, as Livingstone 
 records it: "When about 150 miles from home we 
 came to a large village. The chief had sore eyes: I 
 doctored them, and he fed us pretty well, and sent a 
 fine buck after me as a present. When we got ten 
 or twelve miles on the way, a little girl eleven or 
 twelve years old came up, and sat down under my 
 wagon, having run away with the purpose of coming 
 with us to Kuruman, where she had friends. She 
 had lived with a sister lately dead. Another family 
 took possession of her for the purpose of selling her 
 as soon as she was old enough for a wife, but not 
 liking this she determined to run away. With this 
 intention she came, and thought of walking all the 
 way behind my wagon. I was pleased with the 
 determination of the little creature and gave her 
 food, but before long heard her sobbing violently as 
 if her heart would break. On looking round I ob- 
 served the cause. A man with a gun had been sent 
 after her, and had just arrived. I did not know well 
 what to do, but was not in perplexity long, for 
 Pomare, a native convert who accompanied us. 
 
HIS AFRICAN APPRENTICESHIP 27 
 
 Started up and defended her. He, being the son of a 
 chief, and possessed of some little authority, managed 
 the matter nicely. She had been loaded with beads, 
 to render her more attractive and fetch a higher price. 
 These she stripped off and gave to the man. I after- 
 wards took measures of hiding her, and if fifty men 
 had come they would not have got her." 
 
 After that three months' trip, Livingstone found 
 himself possessed of such a wealth of new experience 
 that for the sake of a clearer and wider vision he de- 
 cided to go into the quiet in order to reflect. And, 
 characteristically, he did his job very thoroughly. A 
 secluded place which the natives called Lepoloh at- 
 tracted him, and there he went for a half year. He 
 wanted to be quiet to experiment. He wanted to test 
 himself. Above all, he aimed at the estabHshment of 
 direct and kindly relations and intercourse with the 
 natives. So he made his home among the people he 
 studied. He entered into their ideas and ways of feel- 
 ing. He did not find them to be creatures of tiger-like 
 ferocity who would plant a spear in any man's back 
 as those who did not know them at all had described. 
 On the contrary, Livingstone came to regard them as y 
 creatures of unlimited possibilities, whimsical, light- 
 hearted, ready to accept guidance. For his part, he 
 threw over the commonly accepted belief that there 
 was no intelligence but the white man's. Meanwhile, 
 he was learning the language, a gain that was to stand 
 him in good stead later. He wrote to his EngUsh tutor, 
 j Mr. Cecil, thus: "I have made some progress in 
 I the language. ... I, such a poor hand at 
 
28 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 languages when with you . . . having trans- 
 lated some very good English hymns into Bechuana 
 rhyme, six of them have been adopted and printed 
 by the French missionaries. ... I can speak 
 it now with ease, but I am yet far from perfection." 
 
 While studying, he was preaching. And here is the 
 place to say that if, in chapters to come, what may 
 seem to some an insufficient mention of his preaching 
 is made, let it be understood that no pressure of cir- 
 cumstances at any time was allowed to interfere 
 with his religious services. It will not be necessary 
 repeatedly to state in bare and precise language that 
 on such a day or at such a time he preached, just 
 as it would not be at all necessary in writing of some 
 world-famous executive to say that he attended this 
 or that meetingof directors. Nor, indeed, does Living- 
 stone sprinklethe pages of his Journals with references 
 to preaching and praying. I think he would have 
 considered doing that an exhibition of a kind of self- 
 righteousness. Yet this must not be allowed to mis- 
 lead one about his state of mind with regard to these 
 things. 
 
 ^If at this time all went smoothly where the outward 
 Livingstone was concerned, it was not such easy sail- 
 ing for the inner man. During that period at Lepoloh 
 he was weighing pros and cons. He came to see that 
 any attempt to preach Christianity pure and simple 
 to a people unprepared for it was a waste of time. 
 No matter how beautiful and interesting the story of 
 the redemption, no matter how clear and simple the 
 language, the lesson could not possibly quicken ex- 
 
HIS AFRICAN APPRENTICESHIP 29 
 
 i cept there was a certain way of life behind it, and 
 that way of hfe was civihzation. Judging from his 
 actions, by civihzation he did not mean the hfe of 
 Glasgow and London, but rather a way of life happier 
 than the native way into which these people could nat- 
 urally grow if shown by Europeans the indisputably 
 good things that science could do for man. (That 
 other-minded Europeans could show them, or that 
 they could discover, other uses of science were possi- 
 bihties, already being demonstrated, that Livingstone 
 did not, apparently, concern himself with.) He had 
 entered Africa believing that if a vision of a perfect 
 life was presented, those who saw would leap to make 
 the vision real. Civilization clean and perfect would 
 follow close on the heels of an acceptance of Christian 
 doctrines, he thought. Experience taught him other- 
 wise and he came to hold the belief that "neither civi- 
 lization nor Christianity [could] be promoted alone," 
 but were, indeed, inseparable. Using his medi- 
 cal and other knowledge to bring in this civilization, 
 or in other words, helping the people to be happier 
 without destroying the good elements peculiar to 
 race, tribe, and individual would thus at the same 
 time, better than by precept, bring in by example 
 what he considered Christianity in its highest form. 
 Yet, as I have said, this did not, he thought, make 
 simple preaching, after simple helping, useless. 
 Christianity could not, however, be presented to 
 primitive folk as a hard-and-fast doctrine and a mat- 
 ter of ceremonies. It had to be an all-pervading 
 atmosphere. As for the standard-bearer of Chris- 
 
30 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 tianity, he would have to be active in well-doing. He 
 would have to be ready to enter into the simplest acts 
 and relations of Hfe with a zest. Never could he be 
 contemptuous of the common things. Social duty, 
 in its largest as well as its narrowest sense, would be 
 an obligation. As for those to be taught and trained, 
 they would have to learn that happiness and fruitful 
 activity were closely allied. They would have to 
 know that an individual sense of duty and an in- 
 dividual sense of right and wrong meant pretty 
 much the same thing. Getting down to bed rock, 
 all that meant entering into common everyday activi- 
 ties such as planting, and trading, and buying, and 
 selling; all the economic relations, in fact. The na- 
 tives would have to be taught the use of their hands 
 and the way to utilize their lands. Religion would 
 have to be a thing of Do and Be. 
 
 Livingstone thought that Africans could be made 
 happier, first, by being simply and naturally civilized 
 from without, gaining only that part of European 
 civilization that would unquestic.iably help them; 
 and second, by being made simple fundamentalist 
 Christians. There was a less questionable counter- 
 part in his own nature. He found that he could be 
 happiest, first, by giving Africans what he could of 
 that part of European civilization that was indisputa- 
 bly good for them; second, by making Africans 
 simple Christians; and third, and most important of 
 all, by exploring until he came across a people and a 
 country new to the white man's way. In him this 
 systematization of values seems to have been at- 
 
HIS AFRICAN APPRENTICESHIP 3I 
 
 tended by some conflict, as we shall see later, but 
 it was indubitably without serious losses, for Living- 
 stone was one of the profoundly happy men of 
 history. 
 
 There is a Hvely instance of how things went when 
 practice preceded or supplanted instruction. One 
 day he walked over the mountains to where Chief 
 Buhr lived, because he had heard that the people, 
 who cultivated the soil in a primitive way, were in 
 sore straits from drought. The rain-makers had been 
 busy burning their charcoal made of roasted bats and 
 cony dung, their jackals' livers, baboons' and lions' 
 hearts, chanting and making incantations the while. 
 (Incidentally, let it be remembered that, less than 
 a hundred and thirty years before, in England, at 
 Huntingdon, a woman and her daughter aged nine 
 were hanged on a charge of witchcraft and rainstorm 
 raising by means of incantations, and that as late 
 as 1895, a twenty-seven-year-old woman was burned 
 as a witch at Baltyvadhew, Tipperary, Ireland. It is 
 poor business to smile too broadly at the African.) 
 "As I did not like to be behind my professional 
 brethren," writes Livingstone, "I declared that I 
 could make rain, too, not, however, by enchantment 
 like them, but by leading out their river for irrigation. 
 The idea took mightily and to work we went. Even 
 the chief's own doctor [conjurer] went at it, laughing 
 heartily at the cunning of the foreigner who could 
 make rain so. We had only one spade, and that with- 
 out a handle, but yet by sticks sharpened we dug a 
 pretty long canal. The earth was Hfted out by 
 
32 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 *gouporis' and carried to the huge dam built, in 
 karosses, tortoise shells, and wooden boats." Nor 
 will it do to read the story for its passing interest. 
 There is the thing behind it, and that thing the evi- 
 dence of the executive in the man, the experience 
 and intelligence by which energy could be turned into 
 results. If that factor is missed, all is missed. 
 
 Livingstone adds: "This, I believe, is the first in- 
 stance in which Bechuanas have been got to work 
 without wages." And again, in another place, re- 
 ferring to the same incident he says: "If these people 
 perceive anyone in the least dependent on them, they 
 begin to tyrannize. ... I make my presence 
 with any of them a favor, and when they show any 
 impudence I threaten to leave them, and if they don't 
 amend, I go. They are in one sense fierce, and in 
 another the greatest cowards in the world. By a 
 bold, free course among them I have not had the least 
 dijfficulty in managing the most fierce. A kick 
 would, I am persuaded, quell the courage of the 
 bravest of them. Add to this the report, which 
 many of them believe, that I am a great wizard, and 
 you will understand how I can with great ease visit 
 any of them." 
 
 David Livingstone went back to Kuruman ex- 
 pecting instructions from headquarters, hoping for 
 permission to venture into new lands as he saw fit; 
 but there was no word. So he settled down to hum- 
 drum work, teaching and playing physician. He 
 gives a picture of the daily life at Dr. MolFat's sta- 
 
HIS AFRICAN APPRENTICESHIP 33 
 
 tion: "We rose early, because, however hot the day 
 may have been, the evening, night, and morning at 
 Kolobeng were deliciously refreshing; cool is not the 
 word, where you have neither an increase of cold 
 nor heat to desire, and where you can sit out until 
 midnight with no fear of coughs or rheumatism. 
 After family worship and breakfast between six and 
 seven, we went to keep school for all who would 
 attend — men, women, and children being invited. 
 School over at eleven o'clock, while the missionary's 
 wife was occupied in domestic matters, the mission- 
 ary himself had some manual labor as a smith, car- 
 penter, or gardener, according to whatever was 
 needed for ourselves or for the people; if for the latter, 
 they worked for us in the garden, or at some other 
 employment; skilled labor was thus exchanged for 
 unskilled. After dinner and an hour's rest, the wife 
 attended her infants' school, which the young, who 
 were left by their parents entirely to their own caprice, 
 liked amazingly, and generally mustered a hundred 
 strong; or she varied that with a sewing school, 
 having classes of girls to learn the art; this, too, was 
 equally well rehshed. During the day, every oper- 
 ation was superintended, and both husband and wife 
 must labor till the sun declines. After sunset the 
 husband went into the town to converse with anyone 
 willing to do so, sometimes on general subjects, at 
 other times on religion. On three nights of the week, 
 as soon as the milking of the cows was over and it 
 had become dark, we had a public religious service, 
 and one of instruction on secular subjects, aided by 
 
34 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 pictures and specimens. These services were diversi- 
 fied by attending upon the sick and prescribing for 
 them, giving food, and otherwise assisting the poor 
 and wretched. We tried to gain their affections by 
 attending to the wants of the body. The smallest 
 act of friendship, an obliging word and civil look, are, 
 as St. Xavier thought, no despicable part of the mis- 
 sionary armor. Nor ought the good opinion of the 
 most abject to be uncared for, when poHteness may 
 secure it. Their good word in the aggregate forms 
 a reputation which may be well employed in procur- 
 ing favor for the Gospel. Show kind attention to the 
 reckless opponents of Christianity on the bed of 
 sickness and pain, and they never can become your 
 personal enemies. Here, if anywhere, love begets 
 love," 
 
 Out of that pleasant ease he went one day to walk 
 a hundred miles to visit the chief of the Bechuanas, a 
 man named Sechele. This man was between forty 
 and fifty years of age, and he disputed with Living- 
 stone with the gravity of a judge. 
 
 "If it is true," he asked, "that all who die un- 
 forgiven are lost forever, why did not your people 
 come to tell us of it before now? My ancestors are 
 all gone, and none of them know anything of what 
 you tell me. How is this?" 
 
 There was no use in argument, so Livingstone 
 turned to deeds. For Sechele's daughter, an only 
 child, was sick of a fever, and her cure was easy. 
 That made for Sechele's friendship, and his friendship 
 passed into a sort of spirited partisanship, which 
 
HIS AFRICAN APPRENTICESHIP 3^ 
 
 after a while grew into a mild acceptance of Chris- 
 tianity. The chief considered that any attempt to 
 persuade his people to any other way of life except 
 that to which they were accustomed, would be waste 
 of time and effort. But coercion, he decided, would 
 work wonders, and coercion he was ready to adopt. 
 
 "Do you believe," he asked, "that these people 
 will ever believe by your merely talking to them? 
 I can make them do nothing except by thrashing 
 them; and, if you like, I shall call my headman and 
 with our litups [whips of rhinoceros hide] we will soon 
 make them believe, altogether." 
 
 Meanwhile, Sechele's own private difficulty lay in 
 the question of polygamy. He had five wives, and 
 to divorce four of them seemed not only unkind but 
 unwise. Unwise, because separation would be fol- 
 lowed by the enmity of the woman, her friends, her 
 relatives, and those of the tribe of which she was a 
 member. 
 
 As for converting the tribe, there were vast diffi- 
 culties in the way of that, difficulties which Living- 
 stone could not combat. A drought lay on the land, 
 and, while Livingstone set his face against incanta- 
 tions, his prayers for rain seemed to have no effect. 
 "We like you as well as if you had been born among 
 us," said Sechele's uncle. "You are the only white 
 man we can become familiar with; but we wish you 
 to 'give up that everlasting preaching and praying. 
 . . . You see we never .get rain, while those tribes 
 who never pray obtain abundance." And, says 
 Livingstone in his Journal, this was a fact, adding 
 
36 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 that he often saw it raining on the hills ten miles off. 
 "If the Prince of the power of the air had no hand in 
 scorching us up, I fear I often gave him the credit of 
 doing so." 
 
 So with one thing and another, there was a tighten- 
 ing of bonds against the missionary's effort to intro- 
 duce his faith, but also a ready acceptance of him 
 as a man useful to the tribe because of his common 
 sense and his knowledge of medicine. Livingstone 
 made ready to return to Kuruman, hoping to find the 
 awaited permission to go ahead in his own way into 
 the unexplored places. 
 
 At parting, he spoke of that desire to Sechele, and 
 the chief's comment was a startling one. Pointing 
 in the direction of the Kalahari desert, he said: 
 "You never can cross that country to the tribes be- 
 yond; it is utterly impossible even for us black men, 
 except in certain seasons, when more than the usual 
 supply of rain falls, and an extraordinary growth of 
 watermelons follows. Even we who know the coun- 
 try would certainly perish without them." The chief 
 was very positive indeed. Yet Sechele himself was 
 eager to go into the unknown land, because some- 
 where in the north lived a famous chief named 
 Sebituane who had once saved his life. Both Living- 
 stone and Sechele were very near to the time of going 
 into the unexplored land, though neither thought so. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 SETTLEMENT AT MABOTSA 
 
 OT until June, 1843, did Livingstone get per- 
 
 X\| mission from headquarters to choose his own 
 field, and then he was all tense to start. Already he 
 had penetrated farther north than any white man, 
 but he felt that he was on the fringe of things. 
 
 When his friends spoke of danger and sacrifice, he 
 expressed himself in much the same way in whiah 
 others who have been in untrodden lands have ex- 
 pressed themselves: "I don't feel anything we 
 usually call sacrifices at home to be such. There is 
 so much to counterbalance them they really don't 
 deserve the name, and I am in a great deal more dan- 
 ger from levity than from melancholy. ... It 
 is, therefore, no virtue in me to endure privations, it 
 is only in those who feel them as such. I wish my 
 mind were more deeply aflFected by the condition of 
 those who are perishing in this heathen land. I am 
 sorry to say I don't feel half as concerned for them 
 as I ought." There spoke the true adventurer, 
 seeming to stay-at-homes to make light of danger in 
 a sort of bravado, but actually telHng the truth, and 
 not acting. Compare the passage with another by 
 Darwin, at the end of his Voyage of the Beagle, in 
 which he says: "He [the adventurer in new lands] 
 
 37 
 
38 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 may feel assured he v^ill meet with no difficulties or 
 dangers, excepting in rare cases, nearly as bad as he 
 beforehand anticipates." And the effect of travel, 
 says the same w^riter, is "to teach good-natured pa- 
 tience, freedom from selfishness, the habit of acting 
 for oneself, and of making the best of everything." 
 So also says Livingstone. This light-heartedness — 
 what is there in it but incurable boyishness and ani-^ 
 mal vitality.'' Like a healthy boy he entered so fully 
 into the joy of life itself that he could not take things 
 ruefully, or heavily, or sorrowfully. Indeed, no one 
 can in whom the sap of life runs strongly. Had he 
 taken things heavily, he could never have accom- 
 plished a fraction of the work he stood on the verge 
 of accomplishing. As for his concern at his light- 
 heartedness, does it not fit in with the rough outline 
 I have given of his general state of mind? 
 
 The place chosen for the Livingstone mission sta- 
 tion was called Mabotsa, and was about two hundred 
 miles to the northeast of Kuruman. 
 
 A letter written before leaving Kuruman, to his 
 friend and tutor Mr, Cecil, is characteristic, and also 
 interesting as revealing certain decisions at which he 
 had arrived. In it he said things in a thinking-aloud 
 kind of way. He made it clear that he did not want 
 the natives to value him for his personality or for his 
 medical skill, as they seemed to be doing. He had a 
 paramount message and a paramount duty — the 
 first to preach the gospel, the second to advance 
 
SETTLEMENT AT MABOTSA 39 
 
 civilization. "I did not at first intend to give up all 
 attention to medicine and the treatment of disease," 
 he wrote, "but now I feel it to be a duty to have as 
 little to do with it as possible. I shall attend to 
 none but severe cases in future, and my reasons for 
 this determination are, I think, good. The spiritual 
 amelioration of the people is the object for which I 
 came, but I cannot expect God to advance this by 
 my instrumentality if much of my time is spent in 
 more temporal amelioration. And I know that if I 
 gave much attention to medicine and medical studies, 
 something Hke a sort of mania which seized me soon 
 after I began the study of medicine would increase, 
 and I fear would gain so much power over me as to 
 make me perhaps a very good doctor but a useless 
 drone of a missionary. I feel the self-denial this re- 
 quires, very much, but it is the only real sacrifice I 
 have been called on to make, and I shall try to make 
 it willingly." 
 
 So there he was in fierce rebellion against an activ- 
 ity that he loved because of a mysterious something 
 calling him onward and onward. His bounden duty 
 was to carry the standard he had raised up, and carry 
 it he would, otherwise there could be no harmony in 
 his soul. He knew himself to be inspired from within 
 to teach spiritual truths, and all other facts had to 
 be subordinated to that purpose. Some said that he 
 had done much, was getting along very well, ought 
 not to hurry matters, but he felt that everything done 
 had been nothing but the beginning of an apprentice- 
 
40 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 ship, and that the master work lay beyond the 
 horizon. Duty and the hidden country called him 
 with loud trumpets. 
 
 It appears, too, that some of the older missionary 
 hands who liked the bright-eyed young man, feared 
 for him, or pretended to. The Missionary Society 
 Agent for the district had solemnly warned him 
 that he was "not to think of building a house on a 
 volcano," and assured him that a native chief named 
 Mosilikatse had threatened to "pounce on any 
 white man and spill his blood." Those warnings he 
 followed up with a hint that permission to go into 
 uncharted lands beyond Mabotsa would not be given. 
 To that Livingstone wrote, in the spirit of Nelson at 
 Copenhagen, "I intend to go then without per- 
 mission." 
 
 It seems abundantly clear why Livingstone was 
 considered by his associates something of an enigma. 
 
 Two English sportsmen were his companions on 
 the road between Kuruman and Mabotsa, both of 
 them from India, a Mr. Pringle and his friend, Sir 
 Thomas Steele. The journey was made without 
 incident, Livingstone looking upon it as a holiday. 
 The seriousness that he imagined he should be full 
 of was not in him, nor could he ever discover it. 
 Always robust and always energetic, his constant 
 mood was one of serenity and well-being. Because 
 of that high-heartedness, he made friends always and 
 everywhere, as those who never make their com- 
 panions a receptacle for their own ill-humors must 
 
SETTLEMENT AT M A B O T S A 
 
 41 
 
 always do. Though Livingstone parted from the 
 others at Mabotsa, during that journey something 
 had grown that bound the three Enghshmen together 
 for a Ufetime. 
 
 At once he set to, and built his house with his own 
 hands, then went to work to do what he could with 
 the neighboring Bakatla. He found them very pleas- 
 ant and Ukable folk, and worked with them, played 
 with them, and lived with them. 
 
 When trouble came, he fought for them, even gird- 
 ing himself to attack a troop of lions that attacked 
 the herds and that the natives could not combat very 
 successfully, their only weapons being spears. "We 
 found the animals on a small hill covered with trees. 
 The men formed round it in a circle, and gradually 
 closed up as they advanced. Being below on the 
 plain with a native schoolmaster named Mabalwe, I 
 saw one of the lions sitting on a piece of rock within 
 the ring. Mabalwe fired at him, and the ball hit 
 the rock on which the animal was sitting. He bit 
 at the spot struck, as a dog bites at a stick or stone 
 thrown at him; and then, leaping away, broke 
 through the circle and escaped unhurt. If the 
 Bakatla had acted according to the custom of the 
 country, they would have speared him in his attempt 
 to get out, but they were afraid to attack him. When 
 the circle was re-formed, we saw two other lions in 
 it, but dared not fire lest we should shoot some of 
 the people. The beasts burst through the line, and, 
 as it was evident the men could not be prevailed 
 on to face their foes, we bent our footsteps towards 
 
42 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 the village. In going round the end of the hill I saw 
 a lion sitting on a piece of rock, about thirty yards off, 
 with a little bush in front of him. I took a good aim 
 at him through the bush, and fired both barrels into 
 it. The men called out, *He is shot! He is shot!' 
 Others cried, 'He has been shot by another man, too; 
 let us go to him.' I saw the lion's tail erected in 
 anger and, turning to the people, said, 'Stop a little 
 till I load again.' When in the act of ramming the 
 bullet, I heard a shout, and, looking round, I saw the 
 lion in the act of springing on me. He caught me 
 by the shoulder, and we both came to the ground 
 together. Growling horribly, he shook me as a ter- 
 rier dog does a rat. The shock produced a stupor 
 similar to that which seems to be felt by a mouse 
 after the first grip of the cat. It caused a sense of 
 dreaminess, in which there was no sense of pain nor 
 feeling of terror, though I was quite conscious of all 
 that was happening. It was like what patients 
 partially under the influence of chloroform describe 
 — they see the operation but do not feel the knife. 
 This placidity is probably produced in all animals 
 killed by the carnivore; and if so, is a merciful pro- 
 vision of the Creator for lessening the pain of death. 
 As he had one paw on the back of my head, I turned 
 round to relieve myself of the weight, and saw his 
 eyes directed to Mabalwe, who was aiming at him 
 from a distance of ten or fifteen yards. His gun, 
 which was a flint one, missed fire in both barrels. 
 The animal immediately left me to attack him, and 
 bit his thigh. Another man, whose fife I had saved 
 
SETTLEMENT AT MABOTSA 43 
 
 after he had been tossed by a buffalo, attempted to 
 spear the lion, upon which he turned from Mabalwe 
 and seized this fresh foe by the shoulder. At that 
 moment the bullets the beast had received took effect, 
 and he fell down dead. The whole was the work of a 
 few moments, and must have been his paroxysm of 
 dying rage. In order to take the charm from him, 
 the Bakatla on the following day made a huge bonfire 
 over the carcass which was the largest ever seen. 
 Besides crunching the bone into splinters, eleven of 
 his teeth had penetrated the upper part of my arm." 
 
 Such was the adventure which left him with a false 
 joint in his arm, and from the effects of which he 
 never quite recovered, physically. A curious thing, 
 very characteristic of the man, is that if it had not 
 been for the insistence of his friends, he would have 
 not told the story of the lion adventure, because 
 doing so seemed to him to be too much akin to talking 
 about himself. It was not "the thing in itself," 
 therefore it was unworthy of consideration. Nor 
 would he subtly magnify his own adventure by set- 
 ting his opponent on a high pedestal. The lion had 
 been called the king of beasts, it had been con- 
 sidered symbolic of bravery, poets had rhapsodized 
 about it, and England had accepted it as a sort of 
 totem; but Livingstone was a man seeing things for 
 himself and with his own eyes, and what he saw he 
 would set down, whether it coincided with popular 
 conceptions or not. So he tells us that the man- 
 eating lion is by no means the vigorous creature in 
 the prime of Hfe, full of courage and daring, that 
 
44 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 people suppose him to be, but "invariably an old 
 lion" too old to hunt for hvelier game, which, failing 
 to catch tame village goats, or women or children, 
 will fall to the catching of mice and other small 
 rodents, and even to eating grass. Indeed, "the 
 natives observing undigested vegetable matter in his 
 droppings, follow up his trail in the certainty of 
 finding him scarcely able to move under some tree, 
 and dispatch him without difficulty." His bill of 
 charges against what he holds to be a much overrated 
 beast goes further and deeper. The lion will attack 
 man only in rare cases of hunger, as has been said, 
 and stands in wholesome fear of man. Lionesses 
 "driven away by firearms [have] been known to de- 
 vour their own young." This again: "When en- 
 countered in the daytime, the Hon stands a second or 
 two, gazing, then turns slowly round, and walks as 
 slowly away for a dozen paces, looking over his shoul- 
 der; then begins to trot, and, when he thinks himself 
 out of sight, bounds off like a greyhound. By day 
 there is not, as a rule, the smallest danger of lions 
 which are not molested attacking man, nor even on 
 a clear moonhght" excepting occasionally during the 
 breeding season. Again : "Nothing that I ever heard 
 of the lion would lead me to attribute to it either the 
 ferocious or noble character ascribed to it elsewhere. 
 It possesses none of the nobiUty of the Newfoundland 
 or St. Bernard dogs." 
 
 Naturally, for him South Africa lost much of its 
 reputation for evil as a land in which danger and 
 death leaped from every bush. We have his idea of 
 
SETTLEMENT AT M A B O T S A 
 
 45 
 
 conditions in a passage in his first book, in which 
 he writes of the beauty of the country: "I have often 
 thought, in traveling through the land, that it pre- 
 sents pictures of beauty which angels might enjoy. 
 How often have I beheld, in still mornings, scenes 
 the very essence of beauty, and all bathed in a quiet 
 air of delicious warmth, yet the occasional soft 
 motion imparted a pleasing sensation of coolness as 
 of a fan. Green, grassy meadows, the cattle feeding, 
 the goats browsing, the kids skipping, the groups of 
 herd-boys with miniature bows, arrows, and spears; 
 the women wending their way to the river with water- 
 ing pots poised jauntily on their heads; men sewing 
 under the shady banians; and old gray-headed fathers 
 sitting on the ground with staff in hand, Hstening to 
 the morning gossip, while others carry trees or 
 branches to repair their hedges; and all this, flooded 
 with the bright African sunshine, and the birds sing- 
 ing among the branches before the heat of day has 
 become intense, form pictures which can never be 
 forgotten." You see what love he had come to have 
 for the land he had made his own. 
 
 In 1844 he returned to Kuruman, married Mary, 
 the daughter of Dr. Moffat, and took her back with 
 him to Mabotsa. 
 
 His idea of South Africa was not such as to keep 
 him from taking a wife into the jungle. The wedding 
 journey, made in an ox cart over new country, was 
 no inconsiderable feat, but Livingstone dismisses it 
 in a word or two. However, it behooves us to con- 
 
46 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 sider a few things, especially the distance. Let us 
 suppose a map of South Africa to be superimposed 
 upon one of the United States, both to the same 
 scale, then mark with close approximation the route 
 traveled and compare results. Let us say that Algoa 
 Bay is placed at Galveston, Texas. Then the first 
 journey to Kuruman would be about equal to one 
 to St. Joseph, Missouri, or thereabouts. The cast 
 about the Bakwain lands made by Livingstone would 
 roughly equal a journey to St. Louis, then to Quincey, 
 where we may suppose the oxen to have played out, so 
 necessitating a tramp on foot, carrying the impedi- 
 menta, back to St. Joseph. Pushing on to his own 
 station at Mabotsa, Livingstone would have gone a 
 journey equal to one from St. Joseph to Davenport, 
 Iowa; then back to St. Joseph for his bride, with a 
 honeymoon trip back to Davenport — all at a speed 
 averaging, say, three miles an hour. Thus we gain 
 some adequate idea of distances. But there would 
 be no well-marked road (at the best it would be, in 
 some places, a five-foot rutted trail) — a slender line 
 through jungle, up hill and down hill, across doubtful 
 streams and rivers and swampy places, with unex- 
 pected detours. There would be pushing and pulling 
 and the shouldering of burdens on occasion, because 
 of the thousand and one obstacles of an unbroken 
 country. A novelist might make a book out of the 
 story of that wedding trip, enlarging upon all the 
 hardships and mental disciplining, but for Living- 
 stone it was only a step toward more vivid things. 
 There was a year of serenity at Mabotsa. / 
 
SETTLEMENT AT MABOTSA 
 
 47 
 
 The chief, Sechele, was his first convert, but no 
 one else in the tribe changed, so the old warrior was 
 both lonely and disappointed. "In former times," 
 he told Livingstone, "if a chief was fond of hunting, 
 all his people got dogs and became fond of hunting, 
 too. If he loved beer, they all rejoiced in strong 
 drink. But now it is different. I love your word of 
 God, but not one of my brethren will join me." 
 But the chief's loneliness strengthened the bonds 
 binding him to his white friend. 
 
 Meanwhile, the drought that affected the land con- 
 tinued, and the tribe, by Livingstone's advice, emi- 
 grated to a place forty miles north, the missionary 
 going with them. When the stream at that place 
 failed, there was another migration, and Livingstone 
 built a third house. When the drought continued, 
 the natives complained. Livingstone, by his refusal 
 to permit incantations to bring rain, was obviously 
 ruining the tribe, and when he denounced wizardry 
 as being contrary to the spirit of good sense and true 
 religion, they accused him of ignorance. The white 
 man heard their reasoning with patience, and in his 
 Journal gives a specimen of it. "God," they told 
 him, "made black men first, but did not love us as he 
 did the white men. He made you beautiful, and 
 gave you clothing and guns and gunpowder, and 
 horses and wagons, and many other things of which 
 " we know nothing. But towards us he had no heart. 
 He gave us nothing but the assegai, and cattle, and 
 rain-making; and he did not give us hearts like yours. 
 We never love each other. Other tribes place medi- 
 
48 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 cines about our country to prevent the rain, so that 
 we may be dispersed by hunger, and go to them, and 
 add to their power. We must dissolve their charms 
 by our medicines. God has given us one Httle thing 
 which you know nothing of — the knowledge of cer- 
 tain medicines by which we can make rain. We do 
 not despise those things you possess, though we are 
 ignorant of them. You ought not to despise our 
 little knowledge, though you are ignorant of it." Yet 
 for all their complainings, "They all continued to 
 treat us with respectful kindness. ... I am not 
 aware of ever having had an enemy in their tribe." 
 
 But the situation was hard on Sechele, who was 
 chief as well as accredited rain-maker. He had set 
 himself against a belief in the savage mind as over- 
 powering, almost, as is the belief in the civilized mind 
 that two and two make four. For, writes Living- 
 stone: "The belief in the gift or power of rain-making 
 is one of the most deeply rooted articles of faith in 
 the country. The chief Sechele was himself a noted 
 rain-maker, and believed in it implicitly. He has 
 often assured me that he found it more difficult to 
 give up his faith in that than in anything else which 
 Christianity required him to abjure." 
 
 Meanwhile, Mary the wife worked tremendously. 
 She could and did cook, sew, milk, spin, attend to the 
 garden and chickens, knit, bake bread, make clothes, 
 teach the young natives to read, and on occasion 
 play nurse and adviser. Livingstone was black- 
 smith, carpenter, gardener, doctor, teacher, mission- 
 ary, gunsmith, shoemaker. Much unselfishness and 
 
SETTLEMENT AT MABOTSA 
 
 49 
 
 much heroism went into making the mission what it 
 was. When there were, very infrequently, conver- 
 sions, they were very secure ones based on admiration 
 and friendship and observation of character and con- 
 duct, but, taking it by and large, the natives were 
 obdurate, in spite of effort and close application. 
 
 The slowness of the hfe was not to Livingstone's 
 taste. He could be a patient, plodding weaver, it is 
 true, when the pattern pleased him, but this pattern 
 was not to his taste. Things were too easy at Ma- 
 botsa, and anyone could do the work — his fellow 
 missionary, for instance, who had no taste for real 
 pioneering. Not to put too fine an edge on the mat- 
 ter, Livingstone and his brother missionary disagreed. 
 It is safe to infer that the other was without the 
 sanguine temperament of Livingstone, very probably 
 one somewhat given to look upon things with an "if 
 this were so and that were otherwise." Anyway, 
 there was a difference of opinion about which Living- 
 stone does not concern himself to write or to give « 
 particulars. Livingstone was married, it is true, but 
 he was not anchored; and he was as desperately 
 eager to go on and on, into the unknown, as ever. 
 For him, fierce activity, always and always. He was 
 urged by some high and splendid secret in his own 
 soul, and he had to follow his star. When that is 
 said, all is said. 
 
 In all, for four years Livingstone lived with Sechele 
 and his tribe, and all that time the drought continued, 
 all that time suspicion grew that the trouble came 
 from the presence of the white man and his mad 
 
50 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 ideas. Yet they obeyed the white man, digging their 
 wells deeper, migrating to new lands, fighting against 
 fate. At the end of the fourth year, there was not 
 enough moisture to bring the grain to maturity, and 
 the cattle had diminished until starvation stared the 
 tribe in the face. 
 
 An idea of the terrible heat is gained from Living- 
 stone's statement that, at noon, a thermometer buried 
 three inches below the surface registered from 132° 
 to 134°, and beetles exposed to the sunlight died in a 
 few seconds. So dry was the air that "needles lying 
 out of doors for months did not rust." 
 
 Naturally, then, with all that trouble upon them, 
 the natives argued against Livingstone, and the 
 arguments were destructive. To be sure, the tribe 
 would continue to shelter him, but to continue to 
 follow his advice would, they thought, be at the cost 
 of tribal suicide. They would trust him, they would 
 sympathize with him, but they could not accept his 
 faith when all nature declared against it. It is a 
 matter for wonder that they endured so patiently; 
 perhaps more wonderful that, in spite of all, he had 
 not an enemy in the tribe who would lift a hand to do 
 him mischief. 
 
 But the thought had been growing upon him that 
 it would be well to leave the tribe and fare farther 
 afield, the more because it was forced upon him 
 that the native mind was not turning in any marked 
 manner to his teachings and faith. Another reason 
 operated to send him away from the tribe, and it was 
 that his presence might possibly precipitate an at- 
 
SETTLEMENT AT M A B O T S A 
 
 51 
 
 tack upon it by Boers, for he had incurred their 
 enmity. It was this way: To the east there were 
 Boers and renegades from many countries, rapscal- 
 Hons and ne'er-do-wells, ready for any mischief and 
 of a sort that are always hanging on the fringe of 
 civilization. Often they swept down upon some out- 
 lying village to exact tribute in the form of labor, 
 "demanding twenty or thirty women to weed their 
 gardens," says Livingstone. "I have seen these 
 women proceed to the scene of unrequited toil, carry- 
 ing their own food on their heads, their children on 
 their backs, and instruments of labor on their shoul- 
 ders." Now, if I have made it plain, as I hope I have, 
 that with Livingstone the thought always led to the 
 effective deed, it may be imagined how his eyes would 
 glitter and his heart thump with anger at the sight of 
 that kind of thing. What would his great compassion 
 not urge him to attempt to put an end to so sorry a 
 business ? Not once, but twice he made a journey of 
 three hundred miles on foot to see Commandant 
 Krieger with an idea of rectifying matters, but to no 
 purpose. He was put off" with excuses. At least, 
 there was an attempt made to put him off. He was 
 referred to this one and to that. His sympathy was 
 misunderstood and his motives were questioned. 
 But, at length, it seemed as if he had made headway, 
 and that some mitigation of the evil he denounced 
 was possible, so he followed up a trail that half 
 promised to mend matters if he would promise to do 
 something in return. When he came to the putrid 
 heart of the matter, what was it but a suggestion 
 
52 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 that he should act as spy for the Boers over the Bak- 
 wains, his friends ? Then, somehow, the sort of lie- 
 that-sticks grew. By way of propaganda, it was re- 
 ported that Livingstone had ulterior motives : that he 
 wanted to be a sort of chief over the natives, that he 
 was stirring them up against the whites, that he had 
 supplied the Africans with cannon. ' 
 
 That last report flew like wildfire, nor did any 
 explanations or denials suffice. Traced down, the 
 myth was found to have had its seed in the loan of 
 an iron pot for cooking, which Livingstone made 
 Sechele. It is the pot that is now, or was until re- 
 cently, on exhibition in the Capetown Museum. 
 But mark how lying tongues can poison truth, or 
 note how misunderstanding may breed further mis- 
 understanding. A pot is round and made of iron, 
 and so is a cannon. Where sign language is depended 
 upon for information, the one may be taken for the 
 other; and so it was in this case. But explanation 
 was idle. The statement was erroneous, to be sure, 
 but it found ready acceptance in many quarters where 
 people wished to believe and therefore believed. 
 Soon Livingstone was under a cloud of suspicion, 
 which, though it affected him hardly at all so far as 
 he himself was concerned, yet had a different effect 
 where it touched the welfare of the natives. He 
 could meet the accusation with a smile and a shrug, 
 and go his way, but they could not. The suspicion 
 had grown to a murmuring, the murmuring to a 
 threatening, and it was told everywhere that a 
 
SETTLEMENT AT MABOTSA 
 
 53 
 
 raid would be made one night, and the village at- 
 tacked and burned. So, not only did Livingstone 
 walk among his natives as one who opposed their 
 welfare in that he prevented the coming of rain; but 
 he appeared as one who might bring down upon them 
 blood and fire and death. After Livingstone had 
 left Sechele and his tribe, such a disaster actually be- 
 fell them at the hands of the Boers, and Livingstone's 
 household effects and little library were destroyed. 
 
 The whole affair kindled a fire in Livingstone to 
 see justice done and to oppose the Boers in their 
 enslavement of the natives. Livingstone's summa- 
 rized account of the raid runs: "The natives, under 
 Sechele, defended themselves against four hundred 
 Boers until the approach of night, when they fled 
 to the mountains; and having in that defence killed 
 a number of the enemy, the very first slain in this 
 country by Bechuanas. I received the credit of 
 having taught the tribe to kill Boers. My house, 
 which had stood perfectly secure for years under the 
 protection of the natives, was plundered in revenge. 
 . . . The books of a good library . . . were 
 not taken away, but handfuls of the leaves were torn 
 out and scattered over the place. My stock of 
 medicines was smashed; and all furniture and cloth- 
 ing carried off and sold at public auction to pay the 
 expense of the foray. I do not mention these things 
 by way of making a pitiful wail over my losses, nor in 
 order to excite commiseration; for, though I do feel 
 sorry for the loss of lexicons, etc., . . , yet, 
 
54 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 after all, the plundering only set me free entirely 
 for my expedition to the north, and I have never 
 since had a moment's concern for anything I left be- 
 hind. The Boers resolved to shut up the interior, 
 and I am determined to open the country, and we 
 shall see who have been the most successful in resolu- 
 tion, they or I." 
 
 I have written that the raid took place after Living- 
 stone had left Sechele. The decision to go to a cer- 
 tain place across the Kalahari desert came to him 
 while he was trying to negotiate with the Boers for 
 the peace of the Bechuanas. For across that desert 
 news drifted, and it was that the warUke chief Sebi- 
 tuane, former friend of Sechele, had gathered to- 
 gether the remnants of many tribes scattered by the 
 Boers, and had welded opposing elements into a 
 whole, over which he ruled. Much that seemed 
 astonishing was said of Sebituane. He was a nation- 
 builder. His people were given to hospitality and 
 truthfulness, and honesty was demanded from all. 
 He had built towns and had constructed wells and 
 roads. What was more interesting to Livingstone 
 was that Sebituane had heard of "The Livingstone," 
 and burned to hear his message. There were other 
 reports: of a desert to cross, of a great lake unknown 
 to white men; of a place of "sounding smoke," of a 
 land of prosperity, with healthy crops and cattle. 
 
 As might be expected, Livingstone was not only 
 interested, but keen and eager to go and see. There 
 were those who tried to argue against any such ex- 
 pedition, who attempted to dissuade him; but to 
 
SETTLEMENT AT MABOTSA 
 
 55 
 
 objections he could not and would not listen. It 
 was true that there was a desert to cross, and it was 
 reasonable to remember that he had a wife and chil- 
 dren. But he had seen nothing in African travel, 
 thus far, that would prevent a household from going 
 where a man could go. And he had always thought 
 that if once he could meet primitive people, un- 
 touched in any way by white men, he could write 
 his message clear where it would have meaning and 
 effect. Besides, there was always in him that passion 
 to know what lay beyond the horizon. 
 
 Talking with Sechele about the proposed expedi- 
 tion, he found that stout-hearted warrior all for going 
 with him, in spite of desert dangers, and only pre- 
 vented because of his duty, which necessitated the 
 staying with his people to protect them from the 
 threatened Boer attacks. But Sechele promised to 
 furnish a trustworthy guide, or guides, to see Living- 
 stone in safety across the desert as soon as the season 
 made a desert journey possible; though at the wrong 
 time, he said, no man, be he black or white, could 
 venture into the heat-dried place. 
 
 So Livingstone began preparations. He wrote to 
 his friend, Steele, the Madras officer, telUng him of 
 his intentions, and Steele in turn communicated with 
 two of his friends, adventurers and sportsmen, 
 William C. Oswell and Mungo Murray. At once 
 they were fired with the idea of crossing the desert 
 with Livingstone, hunting hons and elephants while 
 doing so, and without delay made their way to 
 Kolobeng. Livingstone was joyful enough at their 
 
DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 coming, for he had all ready that could be got ready, 
 and on June i, 1849, the whole party, v^ith Mrs. 
 Livingstone and her three children, started into the 
 desert. Twenty men, the same number of horses, ox 
 carts, and eighty oxen, formed the outfit. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 THROUGH THE DESERT TO THE ZAMBESI 
 
 THIRTY-THREE days they were on that most 
 amazing journey. There were times, at the be- 
 ginning, when they saw the adventure as a high- 
 hearted game; but there were other times when the 
 minds of the men were strained, especially when they 
 ran short of water and the expected water holes were 
 not found; or were found dry. Sometimes they were 
 in vast sandy tracts, silvery gray at night, deceiving 
 because of the mirage by day. There were days of 
 nothing but sand and extreme fatigue, but there were 
 other glorious days when they cheerfully set forth in 
 the mornings across tracts where elands fed, and 
 where ran flocks of tall ostriches; where were water- 
 melons, and gorgeous flowering shrubs, and bushes 
 and trees and hlac flowers. Then, another day. 
 Nature would strike a sterner note, with a country 
 thick with thorny shrub, and tough wire grass, and 
 "wait-a-bit" thorns. Once, in the most unpromising 
 of places, they came upon a Bushwoman, who, for 
 some reason none could discover, had left her tribe. 
 If some Arabian Night genie had wished to dazzle and 
 bewilder them, it could have hit upon no better 
 trick. For they were suff"ering for want of water, 
 while the woman, though imagining that they in- 
 
 57 
 
DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 tended to capture her, made no attempt to run away. 
 Writes Livingstone in his Journal: "When I explained 
 that we only wanted water, and would pay her if she 
 led us to it, she consented to conduct us to a spring. 
 It was then late in the afternoon, but she walked 
 briskly before our horses for eight miles, and showed 
 us the water of Nohokotas. . . . We wished her 
 to remain. As she believed herself still a captive, 
 we thought she might skip away by night; so, in 
 order that she should not go away with the im- 
 pression that we were dishonest, we gave her a piece 
 of meat and a good large bunch of beads. . . . 
 She burst into a merry laugh and remained without 
 suspicion." 
 
 They were then only a little distance from the 
 edge of the desert, and on July 4th they came upon a 
 river, the Zouga, on the opposite bank of which they 
 saw a native village with the inhabitants showing 
 every sign of friendliness. 
 
 The explorers learned from them that the river 
 flowed out of the lake they had heard of, and sought; 
 and that the "broad water" was no more than a 
 moon away. And so it was. For, records Living- 
 stone, "on the first of August, 1849, for the first 
 time, this fine-looking sheet of water, Lake Ngami, 
 was beheld by Europeans." 
 
 So we imagine him, grave and courteous and thank- 
 ful; receiving the congratulations of his friends, but 
 refusing to take any credit or praise whatsoever. 
 That was characteristic of the man — highly and en- 
 tirely characteristic. He made a brief prayer of 
 
THROUGH DESERT TO THE ZAMBESI 59 
 
 thanks, which was also characteristic, for duty and 
 prayer ordered his Hfe, but for the rest he was merely 
 delighted that the lake had been discovered and 
 thankful for the safe conduct of his party there. 
 Not even in the way of the old Spanish explorers 
 would he give it a name. The natives had called 
 it Ngami, and Ngami it would remain. The name 
 in familiar use, if not impossible to pronounce, was 
 the proper one.* 
 
 The lake charted and measured, the other duty 
 remained to be done — a visit to the chief Sebituane, 
 who wanted to see "The Livingstone," and also hear 
 his message. But the task was not easy, for the 
 chief lived some two hundred miles to the north, and 
 the lake stretched across the route to be followed. 
 True, the natives had canoes of a kind, that is, they 
 had been hollowed out of tree trunks in a rough-and- 
 ready way, so that "if there was a crook in the tree, 
 there was a crook in the canoe." As for going around 
 the lake to Sebituane, that was not feasible because of 
 a tribe whose chief disliked Sebituane and refused the 
 white people safe conduct or passage. 
 
 Thereupon Livingstone, considering argument to 
 be a mere waste of time, addressed himself to the 
 making of a raft, and worked for many hours waist 
 deep in water infested with alligators, though at the 
 time he had no suspicion of that danger. "But I 
 never afterwards thought of that labor in the water 
 without feeling thankful that I escaped their jaws," 
 
 *It was about twenty miles long and ten miles broad, and very shallow. 
 Since 1890 the waters have disappeared, and it is only marshland now, 
 with cornfields where Livingstone and Oswell stood. 
 
6o 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 he wrote. Yet all his efforts at boat-building were in 
 vain, for the wood was so worm-eaten that a log 
 would not bear the weight of a man. Doubtless, had 
 he been alone, he would have made his way across in 
 some way, but there were others for whose care he 
 was responsible, so for the time his own desires had 
 to be thrust into the background. In the end, he 
 consented to return south, with the idea of making a 
 later attempt to reach Sebituane. And, to insure 
 success, Mr. Oswell offered to go on to Capetown 
 and buy a boat suited for lake work. In the mean- 
 time, the Livingstones were to wait at Kolobeng 
 until the season made desert travel possible. 
 
 Doubtless, in that arrangement, which, consider- 
 ing Livingstone's pertinacity, seems a sort of com- 
 promise, we discern the workings of the fine mind of 
 Oswell, who had come to love Livingstone. For 
 Oswell was a man of gracious and attractive qualities, 
 but one whose mind was not fixed on far horizons as 
 was the mind of the explorer-missionary. As Oswell 
 would see it, while it was well enough for Livingstone 
 to journey onward into unknown lands, it was not so 
 well for a mother with three children. That which 
 was sweetness for the inspired man might well be 
 bitterness for those of his flesh and blood. Indeed, 
 something of Oswell's interest in the welfare of the 
 Livingstone family is to be inferred from a passage 
 we find in the Journals of a later date. For we must 
 picture, not a woman and children dressed trimly and 
 fashionably, as one artist had portrayed the scene 
 at Lake Ngami, but rather with old clothes, rent and 
 
THROUGH DESERT TO THE ZAMBESI 6l 
 
 patched; and perhaps more worn out than one can 
 well imagine. Here is the passage: "When, in 1852, 
 we came to the Cape, my black coat eleven years out 
 of fashion, and without a penny of salary to draw, we 
 found that Mr. Oswell had most generously ordered 
 an outfit for the half-naked children . . . and 
 presented it to us, saying that he thought Mrs. 
 Livingstone had a right to the game of her own pre- 
 serves." It is possible to catch in that something of 
 the spirit of the two men: the giving without arro- 
 gance or display, and the receiving without loss of 
 dignity and in perfect simpUcity. 
 
 But that is getting a little ahead of the story. 
 They turned south then, and in the record we have 
 little glimpses of suffering in the desert, with the 
 children crying for water, and, now and then, more 
 cheerful days when they saw the country at its best. 
 There is mention of lions and hyenas and elephants 
 and zebras, of evenings when they looked at far- 
 flung hills gleaming like gold in the sunset, of happi- 
 ness and suffering sometimes touching elbows. 
 
 At last, they came again to Kolobeng, once the 
 place of glorious prospects, but that no longer. For 
 the drought was still on the land, and the natives 
 had gone far and wide in search of food. Game 
 could not be found, and the natives ate caterpillars, 
 y and locusts, and frogs. Nor did Livingstone and his 
 family fare much better, though Sechele always made 
 it a point to send the white people a half of the 
 brisket of any animal killed. Indeed, conditions at 
 Kolobeng were so bad, that, by comparison, ox- 
 
62 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 wagon travel in the desert seemed luxurious. "Wagon 
 traveling in Africa ... is a prolonged system 
 of picnicking, excellent for the health, and agreeable 
 to those who are not over fastidious about trifles, 
 and who delight in being in the open air," is Living- 
 stone's opinion. 
 
 That, taken in connection with Livingstone's 
 passion for exploration, and also his tremendous 
 desire to see Chief Sebituane's country and people, 
 makes it oddly unsurprising to read of Livingstone's 
 determination to go north again. The strange per- 
 sistence of the conqueror was in him — the persistence 
 of Clovis and Alaric and Theodoric — of Columbus 
 and Magellan and Cortes — of Barthema and Saewulf 
 and Gordon. It is a passion not to be accounted for, 
 that passion to see the unseen. It is a thirst not to 
 be assuaged. It is a hunger not to be satisfied. It 
 is a game to be played eagerly, and until play is no 
 longer possible. Nothing can prevent that travel 
 appetite: not cold, not discomfort, nor hardship, nor 
 harsh discipline, nor the fever-burning forehead and 
 the parched tongue. 
 
 In a quite matter-of-fact way, Livingstone writes : 
 "I remained there [at Kolobeng] till April, 1850, and 
 then left in company with Mrs. Livingstone, our 
 three children, and the chief Sechele — ^who had 
 bought a wagon of his own — in order to get across 
 the Zouga at the lower end, with the intention of pro- 
 ceeding up the northern bank till we gained the Ta- 
 munak'la, and of then ascending that river to visit 
 Sebituane in the north." 
 
THROUGH DESERT TO THE ZAMBESI 63 
 
 Now, looking at things clear-eyed, as one must, it 
 is hardly a digression to say that, while one Is in full 
 sympathy with the gallant knight so led by his star, 
 there persists in the mind a vision of the housewife, 
 perhaps for a time dismayed at what she knows is 
 before her, then doing what she could with things 
 in the store cupboard; preparing and mending clothes 
 that would hardly hold together, and all the while 
 full of fear that they might not go through that desert 
 unscathed; remembering with a tremor a hundred 
 minute details of the last trip, and busying herself 
 with a thousand needful activities. You see her 
 brisk and efficient, her hardened and capable hands 
 never resting, making provision for her brood of 
 young children, for she, no less than her husband, had 
 a duty thrust upon her. You see the man, simple 
 and kind, but with heart and mind very often in 
 another world, seeing everything reasonable and 
 justifiable because his eyes were on far horizons. 
 But she, with different thoughts, different occupa- 
 tions, gave herself willingly to the clearing away of 
 the ten thousand little stumbling blocks in the path 
 so that he might stride on more easily. 
 
 They went, then, over that desert route again, and 
 to the place on the river Zouga where was a ford, and 
 there Sechele left them, for he had guided them as he 
 promised to do, and there were businesses of his own 
 calling him. 
 
 Their course along the north bank of the Zouga was 
 difficult. The road was a mere native footpath 
 through thick forest, and many trees had to be felled 
 
64 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 before the wagon could pass. There were many pits, 
 too, great holes dug by the natives and covered with 
 brush, for the capture of wild animals, and some- 
 times the oxen fell into them and were lost. Learning 
 that, the natives made haste to uncover the pits so 
 that there would be no more of that trouble. Such 
 decent treatment of foreigners is almost inconceiv- 
 able, but thus it was. Certainly, there was no lack 
 of manliness among the natives. 
 
 The unfavorable piece of news that most impressed 
 Livingstone was that along the banks of the Tamunak- 
 'la, which they were approaching, there were swarms 
 of the dreaded tsetse fly, the bite of which was certain 
 death to oxen and horses. "It was a barrier we 
 never expected to meet," records Livingstone. "As 
 it might have brought our wagons to a complete 
 standstill in the wilderness, where no supplies for the 
 children could be obtained, we were reluctantly com- 
 pelled to recross the Zouga." 
 
 That detour was the beginning of a new adventure, 
 the middle of which was the meeting of a party of 
 Englishmen who were hunting; and the end of which 
 was the return to Kolobeng. For the Livingstone 
 expedition ran into a party of Bayeiye natives who 
 told them of an encampment of white men said to be 
 on the verge of death, a distance of sixty miles or so 
 away. It was difficult to make any speed with a 
 lumbering ox wagon, but what haste could be made 
 was made, and in less than three days the luckless 
 hunters were found. The sickness was jungle fever, 
 and one of the party, an artist named Rider, had 
 
THROUGH DESERT TO THE ZAMBESI 65 
 
 already died. But Livingstone was physician and 
 had his remedies, and Mrs. Livingstone acted as 
 nurse, so soon matters were mended and in a better 
 way. Livingstone set his face northward again. In- 
 deed, all seemed well and more than well, for not 
 only had the rest done wonders for people and cattle, 
 but Livingstone had interviewed Lechulatebe, the 
 chief, with an ugly disposition, and the native had 
 fallen in love with Livingstone's gun. Now that 
 weapon was the apple of the explorer's eye, being one 
 of the best of its kind, and also a gift from his friend. 
 Lieutenant Arkwright. Still, all things had to give 
 way to the one great thing, so when Lechulatebe 
 asked for the gun, and promised, in return for it, to 
 guide the party to Sebituane, Livingstone parted 
 with his pet weapon. 
 
 Then came the unexpected calamity, and Living- 
 stone's castle became as a heap of sand. For "next 
 morning . . . our little boy and girl were seized 
 with fever. On the day following, all our servants 
 were down with the same complaint. . . . We 
 started for the pure air of the desert." 
 
 So ended the second attempt, an almost unforget- 
 table disappointment, but one which left Livingstone 
 cheerful and undaunted as ever. Short handed, and 
 hampered with sick people, with double duty de- 
 volving upon the explorer and upon his wife, they 
 started back, after leaving the gun with Lechulatebe, 
 for Livingstone had not the heart to grieve or disap- 
 point the native. But the chief promised that he 
 would be there to guide Livingstone on another day. 
 
66 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 and said that he would also see to it that the news of 
 Livingstone's attempt was carried to Sebituane. 
 Those promises he kept. And the far-away chief, 
 Sebituane, showed his appreciation by sending pres- 
 ents both to those who had helped the white man, 
 and to those through whose territory he must pass 
 who might be disposed to hinder him. Thus to 
 Sechele went thirteen black cows, to Lechulatebe 
 thirteen brown cows, and to Sekomi, the unfriendly 
 chief who stood in Livingstone's way, thirteen white 
 cows. To Livingstone he sent a detachment of men 
 to help in any way that they could, and these reached 
 Kolobeng soon after the Livingstone party did. 
 There was no mistaking Sebituane's earnestness. 
 
 But there was to be no traveling just then. Mary 
 Livingstone had given birth to a daughter who lived 
 only six weeks, and when the mother could travel, 
 they went south to her father's mission, at Kuruman, 
 so that she might rest awhile after all that toil and 
 adventure, in surroundings more ordered than she 
 had known for many years. It is a sad loss that 
 there are no existing documents in the form of letters 
 or journals by which the thoughts and opinions and 
 experiences of Mary Livingstone might be known. 
 One imagines her going on and on, doing dull and 
 prosaic things, looking for the day of entry upon an 
 untroubled life after all those sorrows. With more 
 than a half-fearful heart, she must have heard 
 mention of a third journey across that desert; and 
 with her loyalty and fidelity she must have desper- 
 ately attempted to appear cheerful. 
 
THROUGH DESERT TO THE ZAMBESI 6/ 
 
 For there was a third, and this time a successful 
 attempt to reach Sebituane. They started in April, 
 1 85 1, the hunter Oswell with them. In the desert 
 there had been grim days before, but this time they 
 were grimmer. Often they did not find the chain of 
 water pools they expected to find, and, to make mat- 
 ters more serious, someone wasted the water supply 
 in the wagons. So for four days they suffered, the 
 children especially. We get a vivid view of Living- 
 stone's fine perception and emotion in one place 
 where he writes: "The idea of [the children] perishing 
 before our eyes was terrible. It would have been a 
 relief to me to have been reproached with being the 
 entire cause of the catastrophe; but not one syllable 
 of upbraiding was uttered by the mother, though the 
 tearful eye told the agony within." 
 
 And there you have Mary Livingstone, the woman 
 soUcitous of others, guarding her actions and guard- 
 ing her speech to avoid casting the shadow of grief 
 upon anyone. You have Livingstone, too, passing 
 over his own physical discomfort, doing all that he 
 could do to minimize misery; full of intense sympathy 
 for others at all times. One suspects him of many 
 sacrifices in times of stress, for this man had the gal- 
 lant spirit of a Sir Philip Sidney. With stout cheer- 
 fulness, he endured what most men would quail to 
 think of, and never dare to attempt. 
 
 One night their Bushman guide deserted them and 
 went on his way alone to the water holes he expected 
 to find, leaving the caravan to shift as best it could 
 or perish. After harrowing hours, they found the 
 
68 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 man seated comfortably by the water hole, acting as 
 if he had done the right and proper thing in leaving 
 them. There was an air about him as of vanished 
 concern, as though, but for his watchful vigilance, the 
 party might have passed the place. When he saw 
 the train, "he walked up boldly and commanded our 
 cavalcade to stop, and to bring forth fire and tobacco, 
 while he coolly sat down and smoked his pipe," runs 
 Livingstone's entry in the Journal. "It was such an 
 inimitable way of showing off, that we all stopped to 
 admire the acting, and, though he had previously 
 left us in the lurch, we all liked Shobo, a fine specimen 
 of that wonderful people, the Bushmen." There 
 again Livingstone reveals himself unconsciously, 
 big-hearted and big-minded, ready and willing at all 
 times to look at the humorous aspect of things; eager 
 to see a bright side and to find delight in any situ- 
 ation; impulsively forgiving the man with a child's 
 mind, although the fellow had come within an ace 
 of bringing the whole expedition to ruin. 
 
 And what is"the Livingstone attitude in this in- 
 stance but a living of the religion that he held to be 
 life? What is that but a practical instance of the 
 injunction to forgive the trespasser.? Not often, I 
 suspect, is man high enough philosopher to carry on 
 in that fashion. 
 
 In some mysterious way in which news flies from 
 mind to mind in the solitudes, the chief Sebituane 
 had heard of the coming of the third expedition. 
 With fine hospitality, he had marched more than 
 a hundred miles to meet the white men, and it must 
 
THROUGH DESERT TO THE ZAMBESI 69 
 
 have given Livingstone infinite pleasure to learn of 
 that courtesy. For it was an act of courtesy, and 
 not of mere curiosity. The Zulu ruler found a camp- 
 ing place, then sent forward messengers or heralds, 
 who paddled twenty miles up stream to a point at 
 which they knew Livingstone must touch. When the 
 guards arrived, they set to work to prepare a place 
 for the white men's camp, and, before the Livingstone 
 party arrived, all was snug and in good order. 
 After the arrival, the women and children and camp 
 servants were made comfortable, and Livingstone and 
 1^ Oswell were led to the canoes. Then there was an 
 easy journey down to the island where Sebituane 
 waited. 
 
 The account of the meeting evokes a picture like 
 one from Conrad's pen — the chief with his warriors 
 about him, the chorus-singing which continued for a 
 little time after the white party had arrived, the 
 cordiality of the chief in welcoming, his prediction 
 that the white men's cattle would surely die as they 
 without doubt had been bitten by the tsetse fly, his 
 lordly promise that they need not fear, because he 
 would give them all the cattle they needed, his 
 magnificence when he arose and stretched forth his 
 hand telling them that any lands they chose were 
 theirs to settle on. You imagine him standing with ^ 
 raised hands and eyes at the end of his speech, a 
 powerful personality who had done tremendous 
 things, and who expected to do things more tremen- 
 dous still. And, the welcoming ceremony finished, 
 there was a feast with beef, and beer, and fruits, and 
 
70 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 milk, and honey. That being at an end, the two 
 white men were led to their huts, which were set a 
 Httle apart, and furnished with mats and beds of 
 "prepared skins of oxen, soft as cloth." When they 
 had lain down they heard a command by which the 
 Zulus were bidden to preserve "great silence" so that 
 the tired travelers might rest undisturbed. But 
 mark the eagerness of the chief. Long before dawn, 
 there was Sebituane waiting by the white men's fire, 
 eager to tell the story of his life, to set forth his hopes 
 and his plans, to do what he could to bind himself to 
 his new friends and to secure their comfort in every 
 way. 
 
 Livingstone knew and understood and liked his 
 Zulus tremendously. "They are tall, muscular, and 
 well made," he says. "They are shrewd, energetic, 
 and brave; altogether they merit the character given 
 them by military authorities of being magnificent 
 savages. Their splendid physical development and 
 form of skull show that, but for the black skin and 
 woolly hair, they would take rank among the fore- 
 most Europeans." He had good words, too, for their 
 neighbors, the Bushmen, as "a wonderful people 
 . . . always merry and laughing, never telling 
 lies." 
 
 As for Sebituane, he sets him down as "the greatest 
 man in all that country." He further describes him 
 as "about forty-five years of age; of a tall and wiry 
 form, an olive or coffee and milk color, and slightly 
 bald; in manner cool and collected, and more frank 
 
THROUGH DESERT TO THE ZAMBESI Jl 
 
 in his answers than any other chief I have ever met. 
 He was the greatest warrior ever heard of beyond the 
 colony; for, unlike Mosilikatse, Dingaan, and others, 
 he always led his men into battle himself. When he 
 saw the enemy, he felt the edge of his battle-ax, and 
 said, 'Aha! It is sharp, and whoever turns his back 
 on the enemy will feel its edges.' So fleet of foot 
 was he, that all his people knew there was no escape 
 for the coward, as any such would be cut down with- 
 out mercy. In some instances of skulking he allowed 
 the individual to return home; then calling him, he 
 would say, 'You prefer dying at home to dying in the 
 field, do you? Then you shall have your desire.' 
 This was the signal for his instant execution." So 
 there was the warrior formalizing discipline in his 
 way, a primitive executive giving his object lessons 
 as zestfully as Assir-Natsir himself. And although 
 definiteness of punishment was one of his weapons, 
 like a true executive he possessed the sympathetic 
 personal touch. He valued the bonds of good will 
 and fellowship, and those made for loyalty among his 
 followers. . . when poor men came to sell 
 
 . . . no matter how ungainly they might be, he 
 soon knew them all," writes Livingstone. "A com- 
 pany of these indigent strangers sitting far apart 
 from the Makololo gentlemen around the chief would 
 be surprised to see him come alone to them, and, 
 sitting down, inquire if they were hungry. He would 
 order an attendant to bring meal, milk, and honey; 
 and, mixing them in their sight, in order to remove 
 
72 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 any suspicion from their minds, make them feast, 
 perhaps for the first time in their Hves, on a lordly 
 dish." 
 
 Thus then Sebituane, a sort of primitive Arthur, or 
 Charlemagne; a master of men who had made him- 
 self lord of a large part of Central Africa; a dark- 
 skinned gentleman, at ease alike with his superiors, 
 his equals, his inferiors. He was, as a gentleman 
 should be, superior without ostentation, yet with 
 something of the grand manner about him. He knew 
 how to give without arrogance and how to receive 
 with dignity. Of him the natives said: "He has^a 
 heart. He is wise " and they said the same of 
 Livingstone. 
 
 So knight had met knight, and the two were to 
 devise some sort of arrangement by which Living- 
 stone could achieve his ambitions. For hours they 
 discussed things, seated on a breezy hilltop from 
 which they could see far horizons, and all was very 
 pleasant and hopeful. When, on the second day 
 after their meeting, Livingstone presented his wife 
 and children, the gallant chief took the act as one of 
 great courtesy, and said so. So Livingstone had 
 visions of a friendship welded to duration, of a grow- 
 ing social organization, of himself as a true pastor of 
 souls, of a united people with common interests and 
 customs and traditions, of economic resources devel- 
 oped and rightly used, of walls of caste and color 
 taken down. He dreamed of a compact httle realm, 
 quiet and happy because free from aggression and 
 despotism. He saw an untainted, unspoiled, physi- 
 
THROUGH DESERT TO THE ZAMBESI 73 
 
 cally perfect stock entering into a goodly heritage. 
 He saw a land of light, and a finer light in that light. 
 We imagine the two men dreaming dreams of a new 
 civilization, planning perfect order and a widespread 
 human happiness, visioning a world rich in the joy 
 of true fellowship. For both were men with the 
 hearts of boys, both lived in a heaven of enthusiasm, 
 and the shadow of disillusionment was not on them. 
 
 Then, of a sudden, all that promising state of 
 affairs came crashing. Sebituane fell ill, and Living- 
 stone diagnosed the trouble as inflammation of the 
 lungs, "I saw his danger," he writes, "but, being a 
 stranger, feared to treat him medically, lest in the 
 event of death I should be blamed by his people." 
 The native medicine men agreed that the abstention 
 was wise and told the missionary-explorer that the 
 trouble came from an old spear wound received in 
 some mighty battle. 
 
 Livingstone sat by the chief's bedside, night and 
 day, and, just before the end, Httle Robert Living- 
 stone, quite unconscious of anything's being wrong, 
 wandered into the hut. Before Livingstone could 
 wave the boy away, the dying chief saw him and rose 
 up a Httle, supporting himself on his elbow. Calling 
 a servant, he said, "Take Robert to Maunku [one of 
 his wives], and tell her to give him some milk." That 
 episode was a piece of chivalry that affected Living- 
 stone deeply. Shortly after it, Sebituane died. "He 
 was decidedly the best specimen of a native chief I 
 ever met. I was never so much grieved at the loss 
 of a black man," he writes. 
 
74 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 The chiefs daughter, Mamochisane, was all for 
 carrying out the designs of her father. So, leaving 
 their people in camp, Livingstone and Oswell ex- 
 plored the land for a hundred and thirty miles to the 
 northeast in search of a suitable locaHty for a mission- 
 ary settlement. 
 
 Then, "in the end of June, 1851, we were rewarded 
 by the discovery of the Zambesi, in the center of 
 the continent. . . . We saw it at the end of the 
 dry season, at a time when the river is about its low- 
 est, and yet there was a breadth of from three hun- 
 dred to six hundred yards of deep, flowing water. 
 Mr. Oswell said that he had never seen such a fine 
 river, even in India. At the period of its annual 
 inundation, it rises fully twenty feet in perpendicular 
 height, and floods lands fifteen or twenty miles ad- 
 jacent to its banks." 
 
 Mark the modesty of the man. In that unassum- 
 ing way does he tell of the extraordinary discovery. 
 There is no talk heroic, no self-laudation, no pompous 
 flourishing and planting of standards in the fashion 
 attributed to a Balboa. I say attributed, because 
 if Balboa or any other explorer ever descended to the 
 theatrical, my experience is at fault. For in times 
 of stress men are rarely talkative. "We were re- 
 warded," he says, quite unaffectedly. That rings 
 true, for it tells of a feeling of gratitude that all men 
 who have gone far afield and seen new things have 
 felt. Nor was there any renaming of the river for 
 himself or for anyone else. There was not even a 
 "we discovered," for to Livingstone's thinking that 
 
THROUGH DESERT TO THE ZAMBESI 75 
 
 would have savored of a kind of arrogance. He 
 knew that what they had found was too great for 
 that. 
 
 You imagine the sudden coming upon the river. 
 One moment they were on the scrub land, cracked 
 with the heat, dotted with thorn bushes, formidable 
 in its desolation. They had passed water-courses 
 which had become exhausted. Often, the only signs 
 of life had been scorpions, lizards, vipers, and ants. 
 Sometimes there had been hours when the intense 
 radiation of the white and red surfaces had dazzled 
 them. Then, suddenly, a vast green secret place 
 of the earth, bathed in primal silence and sunHght, 
 teeming with hfe conceived of the river. 
 
 It is quite reasonable to suppose that against that 
 vast background of a mighty river and an untrodden 
 continent, the thoughtful Oswell and the fiery- 
 hearted Livingstone talked long and sincerely, as 
 man to man, about human and pertinent things. 
 For it seems very Hkely that Oswell would be the man 
 to point out that all those absorbing businesses that 
 engaged Livingstone were one thing — the future and 
 the comfort of his wife and children quite another. 
 At any rate, on the banks of the Zambesi, Livingstone 
 considered things, and at the end, as result of that 
 consideration, decided to send his family to England, 
 and then to come back from the parting and go on 
 alone. For him fierce activity, for them placid 
 peace. Oswell suggested that Livingstone should 
 go with his family, returning to Africa after a rest, 
 but Livingstone thought that it was his duty "to 
 
76 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 search for a healthy district that might prove a center 
 of civilization, and open up the interior by a path to 
 either the east or west coast." So, by the Zambesi, 
 David Livingstone dreamed the dream that Cecil 
 Rhodes dreamed, years later; and dreaming, his hopes 
 quickened. 
 
 Southward they turned, headed for Capetown, 
 knowing that their course would be through a war- 
 torn land. For while Livingstone had his dream, 
 while he had given his life to a cause, there were those 
 of his own country who seemed to be doing things 
 to crush out his high hopes and discount the best 
 promise. Military and commercial imperialism were 
 marching hand in hand to conquer and destroy. 
 While he walked with clean hands and a fair con- 
 science, carrying his message of Christianity and 
 mercy and gentleness, his own people seemed to be 
 acting as mere buccaneers, burning, and shooting, 
 and destroying. Small wonder that the natives were 
 mystified, hearing him preach peace but seeing others 
 of his race and color moved by the lust of conquest, 
 by trade gains, by lands to be won by fighting and 
 profits to be snatched by fraud. Turning to a 
 history dealing with the time, place, and occasion, 
 I find this: "The hostility of the CafFres having 
 assumed all the features of a regular warfare, the 
 Governor General Cathcart attacked and defeated 
 the native hosts, December 20th, 1852." But the 
 Livingstone record runs thus: "Our route to Cape- 
 town led us to pass through the center of the 
 colony during the twentieth month of a CafFre war; 
 
THROUGH DESERT TO THE ZAMBESI 77 
 
 and if those who periodically pay enormous sums 
 for these inglorious affairs wish to know how our 
 little unprotected party could quickly travel through 
 the heart of the colony to the capital with as Httle 
 sense of danger as if we had been in England, they 
 must engage a Times Special Correspondent for the 
 next outbreak, to explain where the money goes and 
 who have been benefited by the blood and treasure 
 expended." The passage contains the only instance 
 of Livingstone's indulgence in a mildest of mild 
 sarcasm. But the love which he bore the people he 
 knew so well might have justified far stronger words. 
 He reiterated his distress because of white aggression. 
 And, this is important: Livingstone, who took such 
 pains to learn native dialects, knew that with the best 
 of intentions men of the same race and tongue arrive 
 at misunderstandings, that misunderstandings are 
 still more likely to come about when men of different 
 tongues come together, though each strives with 
 might and main to make himself understood and 
 render his meaning clear, and that, far too often 
 when urgent affairs of state are to be discussed, 
 negotiations and preliminaries are conducted by 
 men as far apart as the poles, who only dimly under- 
 stand each other, and who are separated by chasms 
 of misunderstanding because of the inefficiency, 
 prejudices, or wilful distortion of interpreters. Small 
 wonder then that at Capetown, because of his in- 
 sistence upon the danger of misunderstanding, there 
 were some who frowned upon him as one almost a 
 renegade, others who sneered at him as "friend of 
 
78 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 the niggers," and others who, regarding him as a self- 
 seeker who used the Missionary Society as a tool, 
 saw fit to indulge themselves in railing accusations. 
 
 Taking inventory, David Livingstone found that 
 he had nothing in the way of money to his credit, had 
 indeed overdrawn his yearly salary of $500 for six 
 months to come, and spent the $100 that the Royal 
 Geographical Society had awarded him in token of 
 appreciation of the discovery of Lake Ngami. But 
 his financial condition caused him but httle worry. 
 All those years he counted as apprenticeship for his 
 great task. Not money nor even an honored name 
 counted. Only this: that he had a high and heavenly 
 thing at heart, and that no shrinking, no weakness, 
 would come upon him, no matter how lonely and 
 perilous the way. 
 
 By the kindness of Mr. Oswell and a friend, Mrs. 
 Livingstone and the children were enabled to sail 
 for England on April 23, 1852, and Livingstone, more 
 unfettered than he had ever been, was free to carry 
 his message to mankind. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 LINYANTI 
 
 A T THIS point I cannot resist a reminiscent note 
 2\, because it gives me a slight link with Living- 
 stone. Once, during an hour of driving rain, I found 
 shelter under a portico in a Cape Verde village, and 
 before I had stood there two minutes, another man 
 came. He turned out to be a Scot, a wrinkled and 
 gray-haired man, one of those wanderers who seem to 
 have been everywhere, who seem to have set eyes 
 on all kinds of people, especially the famous, because 
 of a Boswellian curiosity. We fell to talking, this 
 man and I, and he told me things about Africa, about 
 the Zulu War and Cetewayo, about the Boer War, 
 about Rangoon, about the Maoris of New Zealand. 
 He spoke of having seen Gordon, and Stanley, and 
 Kitchener, and many others; then, when I named my 
 boyhood hero Livingstone, it came out that he had 
 seen him, too, not in the jungle, but in Capetown. At 
 the time, he said, he was trading in oxen, and sold 
 to Livingstone three of the ten that he had when he 
 started on his long journey. "Sorry things they 
 were, too, them there oxen," he added reflectively. 
 Long association with odd characters had caused his 
 speech to lose much of its Scottish purity. He went 
 on to talk of other things, teUing me that "people 
 
 79 
 
8o 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 were down on Livingstone," that the explorer came 
 within an ace of getting no oxen at all because of his 
 suspected disloyalty; and he said so much tending to 
 prove that Livingstone had an arduous and painful 
 time in civilization that I began to suspect the man of 
 romancing. 
 
 Later, I found that all he said was true. Indeed, 
 the man had minimized. Livingstone failed to en- 
 list anyone in his cause. He was regarded with 
 something more than doubt because of his opposition 
 to the Zulu War. His fellow missionaries accused 
 him of being unorthodox to the point of danger. 
 Whispering tongues poisoned truth to such an extent 
 that he could not get hunting arms or ammunition, it 
 being said that he was in favor of arming the natives. 
 Then there was a country postmaster who threatened 
 him with a lawsuit, and took preliminary steps, the 
 charge being one of defamation of character because 
 Livingstone had accused him of overcharging. It 
 was all very petty, and, to avoid vexatious delay, 
 Livingstone compromised the suit and at last lum- 
 bered out of town in a rackety wagon drawn by ten 
 inferior oxen. The prejudice against him arose, in 
 great measure, from that sermon he had preached on 
 his first visit to Capetown. 
 
 The ox-cart was heavily laden, not so much 
 with things for his own use as with this, that, and the 
 other of household necessities for people up country 
 to whom he had made promises, as one living in 
 lightly settled country, when going to town, is asked 
 to bring out this and that inconsiderable thing, until 
 
L I N Y A N T I 
 
 8i 
 
 the aggregate becomes burdensome. But Living- 
 stone was always quite incapable of refusing to do a 
 favor. With the wagon went two Christian Bechua- 
 nas, "than whom I never saw better servants any- 
 where," he says, and two Bakwain men, besides a 
 couple of native girls who had helped Mrs. Living- 
 stone with the children and were returning to Kolo- 
 beng. The country through which they passed was 
 almost desert dry; and the wagon, so old and inferior, 
 prove hardly fit for service. Indeed, it broke down 
 frequently, and at Kuruman a delay of two weeks 
 for repairs became necessary. 
 
 Then, while Livingstone waited, tragedy came 
 stalking. For Sechele's wife found her way there 
 and told a story of a Boer raid on the tribe with which 
 Livingstone had worked so long. The woman and 
 her child had escaped injury or death by hiding in a 
 cleft of a rock, and then, when the trouble ended, had 
 set off on foot with a native, bearing a letter from 
 her husband to Dr. Moffat. Livingstone translated 
 it, and recorded it in his Journal. It ran: 
 
 "Friend of my heart's love, and of all the confi- 
 dence of my heart, I am Sechele. I am undone by 
 the Boers, who attacked me, though I had no guilt 
 with them. They demanded that I should be in 
 their kingdom and I refused. They demanded that 
 I should prevent the English and the Griquas from 
 passing [northward]. I replied. These are my friends 
 and I can prevent no one [of them]. They came on 
 Saturday and I besought them not to fight on Sun- 
 
82 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 day, and they assented. They began on Monday 
 morning at twiUght, and fired with all their might, 
 and burned the town with fire, and scattered us. 
 They killed sixty of my people, and captured women, 
 and children, and men. And the mother of Balerill- 
 ing they also took prisoner. They took all the cattle 
 and all the goods of the Bakwains; and the house of 
 Livingstone they plundered, taking away all his 
 goods. The number of wagons they had was eighty- 
 five and a cannon; and after they had stolen my own 
 wagon and that of Macabe, then the number of their 
 wagons [counting the cannon as one] was eighty- 
 eight. All the goods of the hunters were burned in 
 town; and of the Boers were killed twenty-eight. 
 Yes, my beloved friend, now my wife goes to see the 
 children and Kobas Hae will convey her to you. 
 
 "I am Sechele, 
 "The son of Mochoascle." 
 
 So there was the ages-old struggle, and Living- 
 stone's heart bled, for the vengeance of the Boers had 
 fallen on Sechele and his people because of the 
 foundationless report that the missionary-explorer 
 had taught these natives the use of arms. In- 
 deed, so busy was rumor that Livingstone stood 
 accused of designs against the Boers in general, 
 and stood regarded as representative of England's 
 supposed anti-Boer policy. About the innocent 
 man ran a widespread hatred, a hatred almost 
 deadly. The Journal says: "Loud vows of ven- 
 geance were uttered against my head, and threats 
 
LIN YANTI 
 
 83 
 
 of instant pursuit by a large party on horseback, 
 should I dare to go out or into or beyond their 
 country." Such was the opposition he found that 
 he was detained for months at Kuruman. "I could 
 not engage a single servant to accompany me to the 
 north," he says. And when at last he did get three 
 men to go with him, they were "the worst possible 
 specimens of those who imbibe the vices without the 
 virtues of Europeans." A colored trader named 
 George Fleming also went, his business being to 
 establish a trading post if possible. 
 
 It was June 5, 1852, when they left Kuruman, 
 northward bound, and what with one thing and 
 another, the journey to Linyanti in Makolololand 
 took almost a year, for they arrived there on May 
 23> 1853- 
 
 In the first place, they tried to chart a course that 
 would skirt the desert. In the second place, they 
 went a roundabout way because of the silly but 
 dangerous suspicion of the Boers. With all their 
 care, they ran into the edge of what Livingstone 
 calls "a CafFre war in stage the second," a sort of 
 guerilla warfare established by the Boers. The third 
 stage, Livingstone adds, is when "both sides are 
 equally armed and afraid of each other; the fourth 
 when the English take up a quarrel not their own, 
 and the Boers slip out of the fray." 
 
 The missionary-explorer had very decided notions 
 of his own about all that mass stupidity growing out 
 of misunderstanding, about the exploitation of na- 
 tives, and about those cruel acts of retaliation so 
 
84 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 common to border lands. He was most firmly con- 
 vinced that epoch-making changes came, not through 
 force, but by the slow and patient leading of men 
 into ways of industry. Because of that he did not 
 look with pessimism upon the results of his work at 
 Kolobeng. He weighed values against values and 
 saw that, while there had been no very widespread 
 acceptance of the faith he preached, yet there had 
 been a very healthy social activity. And there was 
 a tower of strength in Sechele, his standard bearer 
 and his spokesman, for he was well capable of that 
 reasoned conduct which eventually might lead to a 
 rebirth of society where he was. He at least did 
 what he could with a certain efficiency. Because 
 of his example and imfluence, new springs of thought 
 and action were breaking through the dry crust of 
 tribal customs. 
 
 There is an example of that reasoned conduct in 
 a little incident too significant to be passed over. 
 North of Kuruman, whom should Livingstone meet 
 but the old chief Sechele, headed south. There was 
 at once a camping for the night and a talk, in the 
 course of which it came out that Sechele was on his 
 way to England. He was determined to lay his 
 case before Queen Victoria, perhaps before that 
 council of white chiefs called Parliament, of which 
 Livingstone had told him. For, after the Boer raid, 
 he and his people had considered matters, and it had 
 been recalled how Livingstone had said that every 
 true and worthy ruler was a friend to the neglected 
 and gave encouragement to the weak and joy to the 
 
LINYANTI 
 
 85 
 
 suffering. The men of his tribe were neglected, were 
 weak, and were suffering. They understood that 
 Victoria, the Queen, was a true and worthy ruler, for 
 had not Livingstone often said so.? So things fitted 
 together very well. She would not refuse them help 
 and strength. Once she heard the tale, she would 
 surely deliver them from the hands of thieves and 
 despots. That tale Sechele would tell. 
 
 It was impossible to shake him. When Living- 
 stone tried to explain something of the difficulties that 
 stood in the way, the native asked, with entire 
 simpleness: "Will the Queen not listen to me suppos- 
 ing I should reach her.'"' 
 
 "I believe she would listen, but the difficulty is to 
 reach her," answered the missionary. 
 
 "But I shall reach her," said Sechele, and with 
 that dismissed the subject, apparently considering 
 that there was no more to discuss. 
 
 So he went on his way assured of success. At 
 Bloemfontein, the British soldiers made up a col- 
 lection for him and sent him on his way a happy 
 man. But at Capetown he was lost in the wilderness 
 of civilization, and, his money spent, returned to his 
 people, taking with him a trick by means of which 
 he could transform energy into results. That is, 
 he had stood wide-eyed and wondering when he saw 
 the extraordinary sight of criminals working on the 
 public roads, and he resolved to treat wrongdoers 
 in his own land in similar fashion. To do so would, he 
 decided, save the expense of prison and make for the 
 easy development of natural resources, 
 
86 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 Looking through the Journal pages so crowded 
 with information received and things noted, during 
 the journey from Kuruman to Makolololand, it is 
 difficult to repress a desire, because of their buried 
 treasures, to cross-index them. For Livingstone 
 was like Darwin in the keenness of his observation. 
 He wanted to obtain a true knowledge of facts, and 
 those facts he felt bound to organize into relation 
 with life. He set down what he saw, adding or 
 eliminating or correcting as new information pre- 
 sented itself, or as subsequent investigations modified 
 what went before. He was not satisfied to know 
 that the bite of the tsetse fly resulted in death to 
 certain animals: he had to make an autopsy. More, 
 he experimented upon himself. When he heard of a 
 curious plant named ngotuane, of which it was said 
 that an infusion of its flowers made a poison which 
 was quite harmless when drunk mixed with vinegar, 
 and for which vinegar was a sure antidote, he re- 
 gretted his "want of opportunity for investigating 
 this remarkable and yet controllable agent on the 
 nervous system," and, with opportunity, would 
 certainly have proved poison and antidote. He eats 
 locusts and finds them to be not unpleasant. He 
 looks at a flowering vine and remembers a Rhenish 
 missionary he once met on the frontier, "whose 
 children had never seen flowers though they were 
 old enough to talk about them." He speculates upon 
 the tsetse fly as being the probable cause operating 
 to prevent the spread of the horse over Africa as the 
 horse had spread in a couple of centuries over all 
 
LINYANTI 
 
 87 
 
 South America, after its introduction in the River 
 Plate country by the Spaniards. He compares the 
 conduct of savages in church with that of the Eng- 
 lish at worship in Pepys's day, to the detriment of the 
 latter. He gives vivid pictures of slave-trade 
 horrors, of Boer cruelties, of the scenery and charac- 
 ter of the country. That sturdy independence of 
 his makes him record his determination to fight for 
 the establishment of mission stations to be "self- 
 supporting, rich and flourishing as pioneers of civil- 
 ization and agriculture," and not "mere pauper es- 
 tablishments," as, in his opinion, so many missions 
 were. In the fullness of his fairness and his practi- 
 cal knowledge he comes out with this: "Christians 
 have never yet dealt fairly by the heathen and been 
 disappointed." He astonishes as much as does Marco 
 Polo sometimes, as when, for instance, he declares 
 chat, long before the Bakwains had intercourse with 
 missionaries, they had practiced inoculation against 
 smallpox, in some cases employing "the matter of the 
 smallpox itself," in others inoculating "in the fore- 
 head with some animal deposit." He notices, as so 
 many ethnologists have, that the unspoiled native is 
 almost free from consumption, scrofula, insanity, 
 hydrocephalus, cancer, cholera — but on coming into 
 contact with whites, the mixed bloods are subject to 
 many diseases and fall easy victims to them. On 
 occasion, as did Sven Hedin, and Captain Cook, 
 Livingstone permitted native doctors to try their 
 arts upon him, for he refused to hold that as a white 
 man he stood at the apex of all human knowledge. 
 
88 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 There are several notable passages indicative of 
 Livingstone's healthy refusal to see with the eyes of 
 others, or to subjugate his own knowledge and ob- 
 servation to conventional ideas. I have quoted one 
 passage on the lion in which he admits its strength, 
 but not its vaunted nobility. The world had ac- 
 cepted the beast and set it on a pedestal as emble- 
 matic of the highest, but Livingstone saw and knew, 
 and for him it was no heaven-scaling monster. He 
 would not concede as much as a "majestic roar" to 
 it. "Majestic twaddle originating in the minds of 
 the sentimentalist," he declared. True, the roar may 
 "inspire fear if you hear it in combination with the 
 tremendously loud thunder of that country, on a 
 night so pitchy dark that every flash of the intensely 
 vivid lightning leaves you with the impression of 
 stone-blindness, while the rain pours down so fast 
 that your fire goes out, leaving you without pro- 
 tection. . . . But when you are in a comfortable 
 house or wagon, the case is very different, and you 
 hear the roar of the lion without any awe or alarm. 
 The silly ostrich makes a noise as loud, yet he never 
 was feared by man. . . . On my mentioning this 
 fact some years ago, the assertion was doubted, so I 
 have been very careful ever since to inquire the 
 opinion of Europeans, who have heard both, if they 
 could detect any difference between the roar of the 
 Hon and that of an ostrich; the invariable answer 
 was that they could not when the animal was at any 
 distance. . . . The natives assert that they can 
 detect a variation between the commencement of the 
 
LIN YANTI 
 
 89 
 
 noise of each. . . . To this day I can distinguish 
 between them with certainty only by knowing that 
 the ostrich roars by day and the Hon by night. . . 
 
 That kind of iconoclasm takes courage, for the 
 world is agog for tales of wonder from the traveler, 
 and always has been. For the real shock, the shock % 
 of truth, is all the other way, and rather toward an 
 acceptance of the ordinary and not the extraordinary. 
 So Columbus astonished and disappointed people 
 with his tale — not one of men whose heads grew 
 underneath their shoulders, or of anthropophagi who 
 had stands for the sale of joints of human flesh, but 
 of "a very loving race, and without covetousness 
 . . . There is not a better country nor a better 
 people in the world than these. They love their 
 neighbors as they do themselves, and their language 
 is the smoothest and sweetest in the world, being 
 always uttered with smiles." In much the same 
 spirit of truth, Darwin tells the would-be world 
 traveler that "he may feel assured that he will meet 
 with no difficulties or dangers, excepting in rare 
 cases, nearly so bad as he beforehand anticipates," 
 and that he will discover "how many truly kind- 
 hearted people there are, with whom he never before 
 had, or ever again will have any further communi- 
 cation, who yet are ready to offer him the most dis- 
 interested assistance." So also have those who know 
 had much ado to make it clear that in South America 
 men pooh-pooh tales, told by armchair voyagers, in 
 which the puma looms large as a dangerous beast — 
 that in shark-infested waters natives will dive for a 
 
90 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 coin — that in Canada there is no widespread terror of 
 timber wolves — that condors do not carry off chil- 
 dren — that rattlesnakes do not leap on horsemen — 
 that the porcupine does not shoot its quills — that 
 tarantulas are not deadly poisonous — that birds do 
 not fall dead when they fly over the upas tree — that 
 the toad does not spit poison; and much more of the 
 same kind. For the world of fiction and tradition and 
 , superstition is vastly more terrible than the world of 
 fact. And Livingstone was all for truth and the 
 setting down of things as they were. 
 
 There are passages and pages describing the 
 country through which he passed in such a way that, 
 reading, you say, "It is hke a garden." You picture 
 the creaking wagon making its way across plains of 
 luxuriant grass, hke a ship sailing into uncharted 
 seas, all smooth ahead except for the faint ripphng 
 caused by the hght wind. There were days and days 
 of that, and Livingstone insisted upon calling it the 
 gypsy life, and was happy in the atmosphere of holi- 
 day. Morning clouds gave cooling rain, noon was 
 golden, and the night camp took on an air of homely 
 comfort. 
 
 Of course, there are reminiscences of suflFering, too. 
 Lightly he sketches days as they neared Linyanti 
 when they suffered pain and exhaustion. They came 
 to a thickly wooded tract where the foliage was so 
 dense that they moved in a green-gray gloom. There 
 was marsh land through which the wagon could 
 hardly be pulled, and where there was not a breath 
 of moving air. There was one time when, for four 
 
LINYANTI 
 
 91 
 
 hours, everyone labored breast-deep in water. Once 
 a wagon pole broke, and there was no timber at hand 
 with which to repair it, for the trees in that place were 
 soft and spongy, so that at an ax stroke, the ax head 
 buried itself into the wood and could not be with- 
 drawn. Sometimes they were in places where the 
 serrated grass cut like a razor, and the men bled from 
 a dozen painful wounds. At other times, for immense 
 distances they pushed on day and night through 
 country where dead water reached to the knee. 
 Men and animals stumbled into deep and filthy mud- 
 holes which were elephant wallows. And always 
 there were mosquitoes to make sleepless nights after 
 torturing days. That insect world was maddeningly 
 audible, maddeningly active, maddeningly vicious. 
 There were water snakes, and curious birds which 
 jerked and wriggled; sometimes they heard "human- 
 like voices and unearthly sounds." Once, at night, 
 there was a hair-raising mystery when "something 
 came near us, making a splashing like that of a 
 canoe or hippopotamus." What it was they never 
 found out; but the noise continued without inter- 
 mission for an hour, although they shouted and dis- 
 charged their guns. 
 
 A sort of incredulity fills one when trying to im- 
 agine all that torment in the swamp lands, with the 
 leader of the expedition treating it with a lightness 
 [ that is almost unconcern. He could not, would not 
 [ if he could, take anything heavily or seriously, if so 
 j to take it meant discouragement. For that which * 
 counted was the thing ahead. He had the work of 
 
92 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 his life to do, and immediately before him was an 
 obvious part of it. The chief, Sebituane, had said, 
 "Come over and help us!" To strive to that end 
 Livingstone had given his promise, and the death 
 of Sebituane he considered anything but a release 
 that he did not seek. The sufferings of his body were 
 as nothing, for he was full of the flooding joy of 
 fellowship with the whole world, just as a man under 
 great stress of excitement cares nothing for a wound, 
 indeed knows nothing of it. 
 
 But at last there he was, almost at the gates of the 
 dead Sebituane's capital. The marsh and the river 
 Chobe, over which they had to cross, were indis- 
 tinguishable one from the other, but there was a 
 piece of rising ground, and there the wagon and oxen 
 were put. Then came the making of a raft, a primi- 
 tive affair, on which they paddled from midday to 
 sunset. The record runs: "There was nothing but a 
 wall of reeds on each bank, and we saw every prospect 
 of spending a supperless night on our float; but just 
 as the short twilight of these parts was commencing, 
 we perceived on the north bank the village of Moremi, 
 one of the Makololo, whose acquaintance I had made 
 on our former visit, and who was now located on the 
 island Mabonta. The villagers looked as we may 
 suppose people do who see a ghost, and in their 
 figurative way of speaking, said: *He had dropped 
 among us from the clouds, yet came riding on the 
 back of a hippopotamus. We Makololo thought no 
 one could cross the Chobe without our knowledge, 
 but here he drops among us Hke a bird.'" 
 
LIN YANTI 
 
 93 
 
 Then the news flew fast. "The Livingstone" 
 had come. So there was activity near and far 
 afield, activity and hopeful apprehension. The 
 man who had stimulated their imagination was with 
 them, and henceforth they would be happy in life, 
 with all the gloom and strife a thing of the past, for 
 they took very literally his message of peace. The 
 glory of it is that to him, too, peace on earth and 
 good will toward men was more than an idle saying. 
 
 Down from Linyanti came the leading men, and a 
 large party with them. The air was full of laughter 
 and of talk. Orders were given and things were 
 done. Soon canoes were lashed together, and, as if 
 it was a great festival, off they pushed, a crowd of 
 natives swimming while propeUing the raft; and so 
 the island was reached. The wagon was taken to 
 pieces. Things were placed on the improvised 
 transport, and back they pushed. All being landed, 
 the party set off inland, everyone full of lively inter- 
 est, everything being done with zest and enjoyment, 
 all radiant with joy, some making music, some sing- 
 ing. Thirty miles to the north, then twenty west- 
 ward, so as to avoid marsh and flooded fields, and 
 after that across a pleasant tract of hill and valley 
 the procession went, and so they came to Linyanti. 
 ' And there the spirit of joy was abroad, for "The 
 Livingstone" had come! Out trooped the popu- 
 lation of Linyanti, seven thousand strong, many of 
 them bearing palm branches, many dressed in gay 
 colors, all of them in a state of pleasant excitement 
 like children greeting a much-loved guest. At the 
 
94 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 head of the party, leaping, and shouting at the top 
 of his voice, vi^ent the dead Sebituane's herald. He 
 sang a song of welcome, a song of hope. And loudly 
 and heartily, in unison, those with him chanted: 
 
 "See the white man. 
 See The Livingstone. 
 See the comrade of Sebituane. 
 See the father of Sekeletu. 
 He brings us peace. 
 He brings us rest. 
 We want rest. 
 We want sleep. 
 We want peace. 
 Give us these, 0 Livingstone.** 
 
 Then stepped forward Sekeletu the son of Sebituane, 
 to greet the white man, the friend of his father. 
 After the greetings there came a joyful procession of 
 women, each one carrying a pot of the native beer, 
 which is called boyaloa, each tasting before it was 
 offered, by way of showing that all was fair and 
 proper. 
 
 Everywhere were laughter and good-nature and 
 amiability. The atmosphere was one of enjoyment 
 and delight and of high hopes. For there would be 
 no more wars now that the man of peace was with 
 them. There would be an end of hideous cruelty 
 such as they knew was inflicted upon other tribes 
 from which white men stole natives and carried them 
 away, as it was said, to be eaten. Henceforth there 
 
LI N Y ANTI 
 
 95 
 
 would be wise direction, for Livingstone had come. 
 Henceforth they would tread paths of pleasantness, 
 for Livingstone would lead. The man strong as well 
 as good was with them. So their joy was very real. 
 They sang: 
 
 "We want rest. 
 We want sleep. 
 We want peace." 
 
 By the word sleep, Livingstone tells us, they indi- 
 cated their desire to be free from war's alarms. They 
 took the missionary very literally as the bringer of 
 freedom from anxiety, the sower of a more wide- 
 spread human happiness, the builder of a very con- 
 crete faith. To be sure there was the minghng of 
 superstition with fact, for they had heard something 
 of "the white man's pot," by which they had in mind 
 cannon, and "white men had a pot in their towns, 
 which would burn up any attacking party." So 
 there was a jumbled mixture of hopes and beliefs and 
 expectations, for there are different planes of intelli- 
 gence among primitive men as there are among 
 civiUzed. Some regarded Livingstone as the wielder 
 of supernatural forces able to weave invisible chains 
 of protection. Some looked on him as a warrior who 
 would overcome enemies by force, with strange 
 weapons. Some saw him as the maker of a paradise. 
 Others, in a minority, understood. 
 
 Sebituane's son, a young man of eighteen years, 
 ruled in his father's place. His name was Sekeletu. 
 
96 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 Sebituane's daughter, Mamochisane, who had suc- 
 ceeded to the government on the death of her father, 
 had resigned in her brother's favor, saying, in a burst 
 of true femininity, "I have been a chief only because 
 my father wished it. I always would have preferred 
 to be married and have a family Uke other women. 
 You, Sekeletu, must be chief^ and build up your 
 father's house." There were a sweetness and a 
 charm about her which prevented her taking any 
 interest in tribal poHtics. But seated in the council 
 at the time of her resignation was Mpepe, a relative 
 to the royal house, one full of aspirations and desire 
 for power, and with some claim to succession. His 
 supporters were not numerous enough to enable him 
 to do anything by force of arms just then, but there 
 was a half-uncanny suspicion, when he withdrew to 
 the neighboring town of Naliele, that mischief was 
 brewing. Livingstone's arrival coincided with the 
 news that Mpepe was preparing for an attack, so the 
 Song of Peace which greeted him had a very im- 
 mediate significance. But the explorer made it very 
 clear that he would have nothing to do with tribal 
 disputes. 
 
 It was while Livingstone and Sekeletu were in a 
 distant village that the explorer met Mpepe. White 
 man and monarch were on a tour of inspection, with 
 the hope of finding some suitable location for a 
 mission station, a station that was to be a center 
 from which order and civilization might spread. 
 With them went a considerable train and because of 
 the general feeling of high hope, there was a dis- 
 
LIN YANTI 
 
 97 
 
 position to make a sort of triumphal procession. 
 Here is Livingstone's vivid picture of the party: 
 "We had the Chobe on our right, with its scores of 
 miles of road occupying the horizon there. It was 
 pleasant to look back on the long extended Hne of 
 our attendants as it twisted and bent, according to 
 the curves of the footpath, or in and out behind the 
 mounds, the ostrich feathers of the men waving in 
 the wind. Some had the white ends of ox-tails on 
 their heads. Hussar fashion, and others great bunches 
 of black ostrich feathers, or capes made of lions' 
 manes. Some wore red tunics, or various colored 
 prints . . . the common men carried burdens; 
 the gentlemen walked with a small club of rhinoceros 
 horn in their hands and had servants to carry their 
 shields; while the Macbaka battle-ax men carried 
 their own, and were liable at any time to be sent a 
 hundred miles on an errand, and expected to run all 
 the way." Sekeletu rode an ox, a feat taught him 
 by Livingstone, and some of his subordinates, trying 
 to imitate him, "leaped on the backs of half-broken 
 Batoka oxen as they ran, but, having neither saddles 
 nor bridles," constantly fell off. At villages they 
 touched, they were greeted by women, chanting: 
 
 "See the great lion! 
 See the Great Chief! 
 Give us peace, my lord! 
 Give us sleep." 
 
 and always the herald at the head of the traveling 
 party shouted at the top of his voice: 
 
98 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 "Here comes the great lord! 
 Here comes the great Hon! 
 Make all ready for him!" 
 
 whereupon people came from the huts with cala- 
 bashes of beer, and huge pots containing "six or eight 
 gallons" of thick milk. 
 
 On sighting the village in which Mpepe lived, 
 they had an impression that something was wrong. 
 Mpepe, with a bodyguard, suddenly appeared, going 
 in the same direction, but on a path about a quarter 
 of a mile distant. When near the settlement, Mpepe 
 and his men made a hasty circuit, and Mpepe came 
 running toward Livingstone's party, waving his ax 
 with a disagreeable exhibition of what might be 
 taken for hostility, or what might possibly be some 
 peculiar and original method of greeting. Sekeletu 
 considered the display an unfriendly one, and, having 
 no mind to play the part of central actor in tragic 
 circumstances, turned and fled. His father's rough 
 combativeness was not in him. 
 
 What followed a little later is only sketchily told 
 by Livingstone, doubtless because of that curious 
 reluctance of his to talk about himself or his doings, 
 especially those in which he played a bold or heroic 
 part. But it is possible to reconstruct, and Living- 
 stone's nearness to sharp death is to the imaginative 
 reader a cold terror touching the mind. 
 
 He found Sekeletu, and persuaded the boy king to 
 talk matters over with Mpepe, with a view to making 
 things easier by smoothing out diflSculties. But 
 
LIN YANTI 
 
 99 
 
 Sekeletu was unwilling to call a council, also very 
 suspicious of danger because he had heard whisper- 
 ings, and hints, and warnings that Mpepe was danger- 
 ous. "That man wished to kill me," he told Living- 
 stone. 
 
 However, Livingstone had his way and led Sekeletu 
 to the conference hut, but had no sooner entered 
 than he was conscious of brooding trouble. For 
 Mpepe's men were seated together, all of them armed, 
 nor did they set aside their weapons according to 
 native custom. Livingstone understood that it was 
 a time for a brave front, and took matters in hand, 
 motioning Sekeletu to sit at his right hand and Mpepe 
 at his left. Then followed one of those strange, 
 straining times. Like surly children, the men were 
 taciturn. There was a tenseness, a feeling that 
 things were at the snapping point. A slight word 
 might release all the live current of someone's ill 
 humor. Meanwhile, unbHnking eyes watched and 
 watched. Occasionally, a hand stole to a spear 
 shaft. Livingstone, despairing of effecting anything, 
 broke up the meeting by turning to Sekeletu and 
 saying that he was tired and wanted to rest and ask- 
 ing the boy king to show him to his hut. "Come, I 
 will show you," said Sekeletu, and rose to his feet at 
 the same moment as Livingstone did. 
 
 We have to imagine the rest: Mpepe, his eyes sud- 
 denly illuminated, leaping to his feet and stabbing 
 at Sekeletu — the blow frustrated by the white man's 
 interposed arm — the ferocity in the hearts of the 
 warriors — the sudden confusion. Then the white 
 
lOO 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 man, cool and unafraid, and those grown-up children 
 stricken dumb by his quiet mastery — the conspirators 
 slipping out one by one — others whispering and 
 pacifying and explaining. I say we have to picture 
 it for ourselves, because of the explorer's character- 
 istic self-effacement. "I unconsciously covered Se- 
 keletu's body with mine," he says, "and saved him 
 from the blow of the would-be assassin." There 
 you have the man. 
 
 The end of Mpepe came swiftly after that. Seke- 
 letu used no subterfuge, but took matters in hand in 
 the customary native way when usurpers had to be 
 dealt with, and with strange fatalism, or so it seems 
 to us, Mpepe accepted his fate. He had struck. He 
 had missed. Therefore he had to pay the penalty, 
 which was death. So at midnight, Nokuane, the 
 emissary of Sekeletu, went to Mpepe's hut where the 
 would-be king sat by the fire brooding. Mpepe 
 knew that bright eyes watched him from the dark. 
 He knew that those upon whom he had counted 
 for support had left him. Without saying a word, 
 Nokuane stood before the doomed man, who seemed 
 to be gazing at the fire, unconscious of the presence 
 of his executioner. Then Nokuane poured some 
 snuff into the hollow of his hand, speaking no word, 
 only watching. 
 
 Quietly, almost whispering, Mpepe said, "No- 
 kuane, do you offer me something.''" and held out his 
 hand. 
 
 It was surrender. It was a sign of the acceptance 
 of his doom. Nokuane gripped his prisoner's wrist. 
 
LINYANTI 
 
 lOI 
 
 another warrior came in and grasped the other wrist, 
 then Mpepe arose and went out. Others stepped 
 from the darkness and fell into a double Hne, each 
 with his spear, and the party moved into the shadow 
 of the jungle. So they went the distance of a mile, 
 and to a place where there was no one to see the 
 suffering of the prisoner. Then Mpepe stood a Httle 
 apart from the others, threw aside his kaross, and 
 held high his hands. A spear was thrown, and that 
 was the end. There was, from beginning to end, 
 no noise, no outcry, no disturbance or scufRe. "Al- 
 though I was sleeping within a few yards of the scene, 
 I knew nothing of it until the next day," writes 
 Livingstone. 
 
 For the rest, Mpepe's followers vanished, the most 
 of them going to the Barotse country. Judging it 
 unwise to go there while the excitement might be 
 intense, Livingstone returned to Linyanti. 
 
 — Following the account of the Mpepe-Sekeletu 
 affair, Livingstone touches upon the social life of 
 the people. What he has to say is of highest im- 
 portance, for, contrary to the common notion that 
 pictures the natives of Central Africa living in a kind 
 of anarchical state, we get a conception of order and 
 of rule. We are persuaded into the belief of Living- 
 stone that, in the social organization of the people, 
 there was a something stirring and throbbing, which, 
 in the fullness of time, might have grown into a 
 civiHzation. We see leaders with executive ability 
 and a genius for organization. We catch glimpses of 
 
 \ 
 
I02 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 the abandonment of individualism as an ethical ideal. 
 We see, as among ourselves, some hopelessly lazy 
 and shiftless; others temperate and industrious. But 
 most marked were the native Ught-heartedness, the 
 readiness to learn the processes of husbandry, the 
 willingness to care for domestic animals. 
 
 We have Livingstone's word for it that, although 
 the native system of government was such that 
 Europeans could not, and were not in a position to 
 understand it readily, yet there was a well-defined 
 social system and a sort of social code. He points 
 out that the truthfulness of the native was quite re- 
 markable, that they showed reasonableness, open- 
 mindedness, insight, and, especially, an engaging 
 frankness. His description of a native court of law 
 is one to remember. I quote: "The complainant 
 asks the man against whom he means to lodge his 
 complaint to come with him to the chief. This is 
 never refused. When both are in the kotla, the 
 complainant stands up and states the whole case 
 before the chief and the people usually assembled 
 there. He stands a few seconds after he has done 
 this, to recollect if he has forgotten anything. The 
 witnesses to whom he has referred then rise up and 
 tell all they themselves have seen or heard, but not 
 anything that they have heard from others. The 
 defendant, after allowing some minutes to elapse 
 so that he may not interrupt any of the opposite 
 party, slowly rises, folds his cloak around him, and, 
 in the most quiet, deliberate way he can assume — 
 yawning, blowing his nose, etc. — begins to explain 
 
L I N Y A N T I 103 
 
 the affair, denying the charge, or admitting it, as the 
 case may be. Sometimes, when galled by his re- 
 marks, the complainant utters a sentence of dissent; 
 the accused turns quietly to him, and says: *Be 
 silent; I sat still while you were speaking; can't you 
 do the same? Do you want to have it all to your- 
 self?' And as the audience acquiesce in this banter- 
 ing, and enforce silence, he goes on till he has finished 
 all he wishes to say in his defence. If he has any 
 witnesses to the truth of the facts of his defence, they 
 give their evidence. No oath is administered; but 
 occasionally, when a statement is questioned, a man 
 will say: 'By my father,' or 'By the chief, it is so.'" 
 It seems not out of place to say that similar testi- 
 monies to honesty and fairness among aborigines, 
 untouched by want or greed, are forthcoming from 
 many sources. If we fail to realize that phenomenon 
 of the existence of certain virtues in primitive man 
 that are rare among those living in a vastly different 
 economic state, it will be a little difficult to under- 
 stand the affection with which Livingstone, and 
 other explorers and missionaries, regarded the natives 
 with whom they mingled. For a lofty contempt of 
 the primitive man is rarely found in those who know 
 him. Thus, Captain Cook could not say enough in 
 praise of the Inoits. Father Veniani tells us that 
 he did not see a quarrel among natives during the 
 ten years he spent at Ounalaska. Hall has set on 
 record his admiration for the honesty and the fairness 
 of the native Labradorians. J. Estlin Carpenter had 
 said of the Sikh Guru teaching that it caused its 
 
104 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 devotees to reject every form of violence and enjoined 
 the completest forgiveness of wrongs. In fact, there 
 
 is a host of evidence, missionary- and otherwise, 
 testifying to the honesty and fairness of primitive 
 man in many parts of the world. Dr. Kolff, Colonel 
 Dalton, Mr. Hodgson of the Asiatic Society, and 
 many others, speaking well in this respect of natives 
 of Central Africa, of Malayans, Lepchas, Papuans, 
 Madagascans, and many others that space does not 
 permit listing. Livingstone is very emphatic on this 
 score, saying that "the Zulus . . . are famed 
 for their honesty. . . . The Recorder of Natal 
 declared of them that history- does not present 
 another instance in which so much security for life 
 and property has been enjoyed, as has been experi- 
 enced, during the whole of English occupation, by 
 ten thousand colonists, in the midst of one hundred 
 thousand Zulus." 
 
 But, somehow, offences against property seem to 
 be regarded more seriously than offences against 
 life. Perhaps that accounts, in some measure, for 
 the equanimity with which so many tribes regarded 
 the beginnings of the trade in slaves. "It is hard," 
 writes Livingstone, "to make these people feel that 
 shedding of blood is a great crime; they must be 
 conscious that it is wrong, but, having been ac- 
 customed to bloodshed from infancy, they are re- 
 markably callous to the enormity of the crime of 
 destroying human life." The traveler R. F. Burton, 
 in his book. Lake Regions oj Central Africa, testifies 
 similarly, saying that the African's only fear, after 
 
LIN YANTI 
 
 105 
 
 committing a treacherous murder, is that of being 
 haunted by the angry ghost of the dead. Other 
 African travelers, notably Bosman and Baker, have 
 deplored this easy blood-letting by a people otherwise 
 pleasant. 
 
 One of Livingstone's hardest tasks was to convince 
 the natives of what he considered the error of polyg- 
 amy, especially when his pupils, as in the cases of 
 Sechele and Sekeletu, had three or four wives with 
 whom they lived in peace. For one thing, the act of 
 divorce had something of the appearance of dis- 
 loyalty and unkindness. For another, it was argued 
 that one man, one wife, meant something very much 
 like an abandonment of hospitality, because the 
 women cultivated the soil, and therefore a man with 
 one wife would be almost unable to entertain strang- 
 ers. 
 
 Shiftlessness he found to be rare. Here and there 
 were cases of it, as when he saw a small group, the 
 members of which loafed and invited their souls to 
 such an extent that they cut down trees to get the 
 fruit, instead of climbing; but they were the subjects 
 of denunciations and censures. 
 
 There were highly developed crafts. The natives 
 understood the craft of smelting and made excellent 
 hoes, spears, and axes. "I brought home some of the 
 hoes Sekeletu gave me," said Livingstone at the end 
 of his first Journal, . . also some others ob- 
 
 tained in Kilimane, and they have been found of 
 such good quality that a friend of mine in Birming- 
 ham has made an Enfield rifle out of them." The 
 
Io6 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 natives, he tells us, in another place, "consider 
 English iron as 'rotten.'" 
 
 As for the practice of medicine, Livingstone, him- 
 self a physician, had more than a light regard for the 
 natives' skill, "There are numbers of other medi- 
 cines (besides one having the same effect as qui- 
 nine) in use among the natives, but I have always 
 been obliged to regret want of time to ascertain which 
 were useful and which of no value. We find a 
 medicine in use by a tribe in one part of the country, 
 and the same plant employed by a tribe a thousand 
 miles distant. This surely must arise from some 
 inherent virtue in the plant." He hsts many native 
 herbal remedies, among them one to produce perspi- 
 ration for fevered patients, another a purgative, 
 another an emetic; a plant from which an infusion 
 is made for relief in the case of violent coughing, 
 from the leaves of which also a soap is made; a drug 
 that is used to expel snakes and rats from a house, 
 the fluid being sprinkled about, and the smell of it 
 not unpleasant to man; an active caustic; the Eski- 
 nencia, used in cases of croup and sore throat; castor 
 oil; a plant that is efficacious in cases of arrow poison- 
 ing; another that he found used to cure ulcers. 
 
 He also tells of plants from which an illuminating 
 oil is extracted; of dye plants — red, blue, black, and 
 yellow; of a plant from which is made a glue used for 
 mending broken earthenware; of a plant for killing 
 fish. 
 
 The Makololo natives also grew maize and made 
 meal, using pestle and mortar much in the manner 
 
LIN YANTI 
 
 107 
 
 of the ancient Egyptians. They cultivated beans, 
 groundnuts, the sugar cane, pumpkins, watermelons, 
 cucumbers, the sweet potato, and tobacco, using the 
 last as snulF. They also cared for milk cows, sheep, 
 and goats. All this, we remember with astonish- 
 ment, he found among a people who had never seen 
 a white man until they saw him. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE MARCH TO THE ATLANTIC 
 
 LIVINGSTONE had his first attack of fever at 
 J Linyanti, on the last day of May, 1853. It was 
 the first of a series of attacks, severe enough to have 
 brought many a man dovsn, but in his case a splendid 
 nervous organization triumphed over an often over- 
 worked body, and to a natural soundness of consti- 
 tution he added a great power of will. 
 
 Just as Captain Cook did not disdain to put him- 
 self in the charge of native physicians on occasion, 
 so Livingstone gave himself to the tribal medicine 
 man by way of experiment. "He put some roots 
 into a pot with water and, when it was boiling, placed 
 it on a spot beneath a blanket thrown around both 
 me and it. This produced no immediate effect; he 
 then got a small bundle of different kinds of medicinal 
 woods, and, burning them in a potsherd nearly to 
 ashes, used the smoke and hot vapor arising from 
 them as an auxiUary to the other in causing diaphore- 
 sis. I fondly hoped that they had a more patent 
 remedy than our o\m medicines afford; but after 
 being stewed in their vapor baths, smoked like a red 
 herring over green twigs, and charmed secundem ar- 
 tem, I concluded that I could cure the fever more 
 quickly than they can." His treatment consisted of 
 
 108 
 
THE MARCH TO THE ATLANTIC I09 
 
 a wet sheet and a mild aperient in combination with 
 quinine "in addition to the native remedies, the 
 former by way of doing for the aUmentary canal 
 what the latter did for the skin." Livingstone was 
 not chasing any phantoms or hoping for impossible 
 things in the way of cures, but, being a man singularly 
 free from bigotry, he was holding himself open to 
 out-of-the-way truth. 
 
 Unhappily, Livingstone found no reliable fever 
 cure and did not become immune from attacks. For 
 the remainder of his life he suffered. In this, his 
 first case, as soon as he was able to travel, he set off 
 on his tremendous journey to the west. 
 
 It is necessary to pause awhile and take stock, 
 setting things down clearly and plainly, even at the 
 risk of being accused of useless repetition; otherwise, 
 the real meaning of that stupendous feat will hardly 
 be appreciated, especially by the reader who does not 
 follow the route step by step on a good map. Living- 
 stone had found a country, hitherto unknown, that, 
 though fever-stricken, was of great natural beauty 
 and rich in natural resources. The natives were 
 kindly disposed and would be benefited by an intro- 
 duction of civilized arts and crafts, a knowledge of 
 the Christian religion and such education as they 
 were capable of receiving. But if that condition 
 was to be attained, a route to the outer world would 
 have to be found, and, as transportation methods 
 then existed, the route Livingstone had traveled 
 across the desert was impossible. So he made up his 
 mind to see whether a route could be found from the 
 
I lO 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 Atlantic coast. That route he intended to travel by 
 pushing up the rivers in canoes, by riding on ox back, ^ 
 or by walking. 
 
 Now as to the distances. For the better appreci- 
 ation of them, let us again suppose the map of Africa 
 superimposed upon one of North America, using the 
 same scale, of course. We have already seen how, 
 supposing Algoa Bay, his starting point, to be 
 situated at Galveston, Texas, he had advanced to 
 Linyanti, which would be approximately in the 
 neighborhood of Duluth. We must also count the 
 prospecting tours he took as having taken him to 
 points as far afield as Fort William, Ontario, and 
 Sault Sainte Marie. Now comes the magnificent 
 plan. It involved a journey that might, with close 
 accuracy, be outlined thus: a general northwesterly 
 course around the north end of Lake Winnipeg, then 
 northwest until he reached Yukon Territory; or, say, 
 from Duluth to Seattle and beyond. That would 
 approximate the distance and route traveled by 
 Livingstone in his first great African journey. 
 
 As for his party and outfit, both were cut down to 
 a minimum. Twenty-seven natives were appointed 
 by Sekeletu to go with him, and the three who had 
 been his companions, with the trader also, turned 
 back to Kuruman. Some idea of his own personal 
 belongings is gained from a letter written to his 
 father, part of which ran: "Our intentions are to go 
 up the Luba till we reach the falls, then send back the 
 canoe and proceed in the country beyond as best we 
 can. ... If my watch comes back after I am 
 
THE MARCH TO THE ATLANTIC III 
 
 cut off, it belongs to Agnes. If my sextant, it is 
 Robert's. The Paris medal to Thomas. Double- 
 barreled gun to Zouga. Be a father to the fatherless 
 and a husband to the widow for Jesus' sake. The 
 Boers by taking possession of all my goods have 
 saved me the trouble of making a will." For the 
 rest, he left his wagon and books, and a few articles of 
 clothing, in charge of Sekeletu, at Linyanti. His 
 weapons were three muskets for his men, who shot so 
 indifferently that the explorer always felt himself to 
 be in danger when they aimed. For himself there 
 was a rifle and the double-barreled smooth-bore gun 
 willed to Zouga. "I have always found," he writes x' 
 in his Journal, "that the art of successful travel 
 consisted in taking as few impedimenta as possible, 
 and not forgetting to carry my wits about me. The 
 outfit was rather spare, and intended to be still more 
 so when we should come to leave the canoes. Some 
 would consider it injudicious to adopt this plan, but 
 I had a secret conviction that if I did not succeed, it 
 would not be for want of the knick-knacks adver- 
 tised as indispensable for travelers, but from want of 
 pluck, or because a large array of baggage excited 
 the cupidity of the tribes through whose country we 
 wished to pass." Like Thoreau, he refused to be the 
 slave of his possessions, and his policy was one of 
 renunciation. Another reason for light baggage, and 
 one to which he gives a sort of mere nodding recog- 
 nition, was that he wished to avoid the discourage- 
 ment which would naturally be felt on meeting any 
 obstacles "if my companions were obliged to carry 
 
112 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 heavy loads." Companions, you will note, not 
 servants. The word slips easily from his pen, for 
 his Christianity was not a pigeonholed system. The 
 complete outfit was this: a few biscuits, a few pounds 
 of tea and sugar, and twenty pounds of coffee. We 
 infer that he went without salt, and, in another place, 
 he tells us that he found it no great hardship to do so. 
 For clothing there were these: a tin box fifteen inches 
 square containing spare shirting, trousers, and shoes 
 to be kept until civiUzation was reached — other 
 clothes in a bag for wear en route. The library was 
 a nautical almanac, a book of logarithms, and a Bible. 
 For camping, he had a sleeping tent large enough for 
 one, a sheepskin and a horse-rug. For trading pur- 
 poses, there were twenty pounds of beads, and, for 
 the entertainment of the natives, a magic lantern. 
 Of instruments, he had a sextant and artificial 
 horizon, a thermometer, a stop-watch, a large and a 
 small compass, and a small telescope. With that 
 shm equipment he started into unknown lands with 
 less misgivings, apparently, than most men have 
 when taking a three days' automobile tour in which 
 a hotel stands at the end of each day's run. His 
 unwavering determination counted for far more than 
 mechanical aids and contrivances. 
 
 Then came order and discipUne; the reshaping of 
 his companions to his purpose. For, without formal- 
 ized discipline, the expedition would have foundered 
 within sight of its starting place. True, all in the 
 party were companions, but still there had to be 
 leader and subordinates. So Livingstone taught 
 
THE MARCH TO THE ATLANTIC II3 
 
 his men to work together for their common comfort. 
 At night, on the journey, there was something of 
 that machine-like coordination to be seen when some 
 great circus reaches a town, indecision absent because 
 each has a set task and a central purpose. Aimless 
 efforts there were none. Neither was there undue 
 haste. There was as effective an expenditure of 
 energy in the jungle as could be found in a well- 
 ordered production plant or an army disciplinary 
 barracks. Livingstone does not tell us that in the 
 manner of a theorist testifying to his own acumen, 
 but there are evidences aplenty of the truth of it. 
 Note, by way of instance, the passage that follows, 
 from the fourteenth chapter of Missionary Travels, 
 and draw your own conclusions: "As soon as we land 
 some of the men cut a little grass for my bed, while 
 Mashuana plants the poles of the little tent. These 
 are used by day for carrying burdens, for the Barotse 
 fashion is exactly Hke that of the natives of India, 
 only the burden is fastened near the ends of the pole 
 and not suspended by long cords. The bed is made, 
 and boxes ranged on each side of it, and then the tent 
 pitched over all. Four or five feet in front of my tent 
 is placed the principal or kotla fire, the wood for 
 which must be collected by the man who occupies the 
 post of herald. . . . Each person knows the 
 station he is to occupy, in reference to the post of 
 honor at the fire in front of the door of the tent. The 
 two Makololo occupy my right and left, both in eat- 
 ing and sleeping, as long as the journey lasts. But 
 Mashuaana, my head boatman, makes his bed at the 
 
114 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 door of my tent as soon as I retire. The rest, divided 
 into small companies according to their tribes, make 
 sheds all around the fire, leaving a horseshoe-shaped 
 space in front sufficient for the cattle to stand in. 
 The fire gives confidence to the oxen, so the men are 
 always careful to keep them in sight of it. The 
 sheds are formed by planting two stout forked poles 
 in an incHned position, and planting another over 
 these in a horizontal position. A number of branches 
 are then stuck in the ground in the direction to which 
 the poles are inclined, the twigs drawn down to the 
 horizontal pole, and tied with strips of bark. Long 
 grass is then laid over the branches in sufficient 
 quantity to draw off the rain, and we have sheds open 
 to the fire in front but secure from beasts behind. In 
 less than an hour we were usually under cover. 
 . . . The cooking is usually done in the natives' 
 own style, and, as they carefully wash the dishes, 
 pots, and the hands before handHng food, it is by no 
 means despicable. Sometimes alterations are made 
 at my suggestion, and then they beheve that they 
 can cook in thorough white man's fashion. The 
 cook always comes in for something left in the pot, 
 so all are eager to obtain the office. ... I 
 taught several of them to wash my shirts, and they 
 did it well, though their teacher had never been 
 taught that work himself. Frequent change of linen 
 and sunning of my blanket kept me more comfortable 
 than might have been anticipated, and I feel certain 
 that the lessons of cleanliness rigidly instilled by my 
 mother in childhood helped to maintain that respect 
 
THE MARCH TO THE ATLANTIC II5 
 
 which these people entertain for European ways. It 
 is questionable if a descent to barbarous ways ever 
 elevates a man in the eyes of savages." 
 
 The journey from Linyanti to the Atlantic coast 
 took a half year, from November 11, i8y , to May 3 1, 
 1854, and in that space of time the explorer had 
 ^ twenty-seven attacks of fever. We find such pas- 
 sages as this: "I had eaten nothing for two entire 
 days, and instead of sleep, the whole of the nights 
 were employed in incessant drinking of water." Or 
 this: "I was too ill to go out of my little covering 
 except to quell a mutiny which began to show itself." 
 Again a passage we shall note later: "my mind was 
 depressed by disease and care. The fever had in- 
 duced a state of dysentery, so troublesome that I 
 could not remain on the ox more than ten minutes at 
 a time." And "owing to the weakness of the sick 
 men we were able to march but short distances." 
 To quote two more, one painfully significant, the 
 other very characteristic of the man : "The weakening 
 effects of the fever were most extraordinary . . . 
 in attempting to make lunar observations I could not 
 avoid confusion of time and distance, neither could 
 I hold the instrument steady, nor perform a simple 
 calculation." "I am getting tired of quoting my 
 fevers and never liked to read travels myself where 
 much was said about the illnesses of the traveler; I 
 shall henceforth endeavor to say little of them." 
 
 It is a high achievement to have made the journey 
 at all under such bodily stress, battling the while with 
 adverse conditions of weather and insect plagues; but 
 
Il6 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 by what marvelous detachment from pain was he 
 enabled to observe and make notes and drawings and 
 set down things in honor of Nature's beauty? Not 
 only that, but there is about him, very often, a 
 peculiar vein of pleasantry and delicate fancy, so that 
 sometimes you find in him a self-repressed humorist. 
 I recall one instance among many, in which he tells of 
 ox-riding: "I had an opportunity of observing the 
 pecuUarities of my ox Sinbad. He had a softer back 
 than the others, but a much more intractable temper. 
 His horns were bent downward and hung loosely, so 
 he could do no harm with them; but as we wended our 
 way slowly along the narrow path, he would sud- 
 denly dart aside. A string tied to a stick put 
 through the cartilage of the nose serves instead of a 
 bridle; you jerk this back, it makes him run faster on; 
 if you pull it to one side, he allows the nose and head 
 to go, but keeps the opposite eye directed to the for- 
 bidden spot, and goes in spite of you. The only 
 way he can be brought to a stand is by a stroke with 
 a wand across the nose. When Sinbad ran in below 
 a climber stretched across the path so low that I could 
 not stoop under it, I was dragged off and came down 
 on the crown of my head; and he never allowed an 
 opportunity of the kind to pass without trying to 
 inflict a kick, as if I neither had nor deserved his 
 love." The man whose sense of humor rose above 
 his bodily pain in that way had the heart of a Thomas 
 Hood. 
 
 His indescribable freshness and enthusiasm, in- 
 deed, never failed him. When it comes to obser- 
 
THE MARCH TO THE ATLANTIC II7 
 
 vation of nature, his descriptions are vivid and strik- 
 ing. He is always picturesque and he is always inter- 
 esting. There are pages on spiders, on ants and their 
 ways, on snakes, on butterflies, on ticks, and on 
 caterpillars. Reading them, one is in touch with a 
 journal of scientific travel as interesting as Darwin's 
 record of his world voyage in the Beagle. He lists 
 and describes birds and their ways with the facility 
 of expression of a Hudson. He notes minute phe- 
 nomena and sets down what he observes with the 
 particularity of a Thoreau. So his pages are treasure 
 houses for the ordinary man whose knowledge of 
 African fauna and flora is hmited to what he sees 
 behind the bars of a zoological garden, or in botanical 
 glasshouses. And how the man saw! A word or two 
 and you have a picture. I open the first volume at 
 random, almost, finding mention of "one pretty 
 little wader, an avoset, which appears as if standing 
 on stilts, its legs are so long, and its bill seems bent 
 the wrong way." And this: . . the Parra 
 Africana runs about on the surface of a pond as if 
 walking on water, catching insects. It, too, had long 
 thin legs, and extremely long toes, for the purpose of 
 enabling it to stand on the floating lotus leaves, and 
 other aquatic plants." There are numberless little 
 vignettes such as these, pictures of things seen with 
 an amused surprise, and told of with Hghtness. 
 
 On that long journey, in almost every case, the 
 party was met by other tribes with hospitality and 
 good-humor and kindness. But now and then there 
 was no avoiding active collisions and unpleasant 
 
ii8 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 scenes, though Livingstone shed no man's blood. 
 Once a chief imagined himself insulted, and de- 
 manded something by way of satisfaction — a man, 
 or an ox, or a gun. Upon Livingstone's stout re- 
 fusal, there was a significant display of hostihties, 
 with one man making a cut at the explorer's head 
 with a sword. So Livingstone took out and pointed 
 a pistol, but that was all. For a while, it was nip and 
 tuck, but somehow Livingstone controlled matters, 
 getting the chief seated and encouraging him to talk, 
 which he did, at great length. It was a safety valve, 
 and there was no explosion. 
 
 Another time, when mutiny in his own camp 
 seemed imminent, and when a command was greeted 
 with an impudent laugh, "knowing that discipHne 
 would be at an end if this mutiny were not quelled, 
 and that our lives depended on vigorously upholding 
 authority, I seized a double-barreled pistol and 
 darted forth . . . looking, I suppose, so savage 
 as to put them to precipitate flight. . . . They 
 never afterwards gave me any trouble." Living- 
 stone won because of his quick intelligence, knowl- 
 edge that came from experience, and calm courage. 
 Nor must it be overlooked that he possessed, in an 
 exceptional degree, the old-fashioned virtues of self- 
 control and patience and persistence. Furthermore, 
 he was master of men because he was master of him- 
 self. 
 
 The journey from Linyanti to the Atlantic coast 
 took, as I have said, a half year to accomplish. It is 
 one of the brilliant exploits of history, but one that, 
 
THE MARCH TO THE ATLANTIC II9 
 
 not being closely connected with either commercial- 
 ism or arms, is partially forgotten, and remembered 
 mostly by special students. It is comparable to 
 the thirty-year journey taken by Ibn Batuta, a 
 journey full of strange adventure. It stands on a 
 plane with that expedition into the icy north, taken 
 in 1916 by Inspector F. H. French of the Bathurst 
 Inlet Patrol. It ranks with the amazing pilgrimage 
 made by Barthema, the first European to learn of 
 AustraHa. It is comparable to the wanderings of 
 Huen-Tsaing and of Marco Polo. And this is not 
 to be overlooked. In each of these cases there was, 
 in the wanderer, what Pindar calls "inborn, in- 
 herited nobility," without which there has never 
 been the highest attainment. That passage from 
 Pindar is worth quoting in this connection, and worth 
 remembering, too, if for no other purpose than that 
 one torn asunder with dual purposes and therefore 
 given to a sort of spinelessness, may learn to stand 
 upright, fix his eyes on a Polaris, and march to a 
 goal. "By inborn nobility doth one mightily pre- 
 vail. But he who hath only what he hath been 
 taught — a man obscure, eager now for this and now 
 for that — that man never entereth the Hsts with 
 unflinching foot, but essayeth countless achieve- 
 ments with ineffectual purpose." 
 
 Now, in the course of that half year, Livingstone 
 encountered besides his sickness, numberless, vari- 
 ous, and persistent hardships. Sometimes his party 
 was knee-deep in flood, sometimes in arid land so 
 thickly grass-covered that every step was laborious. 
 
I20 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 When they neared lands that had been touched by- 
 slave dealers and traders and drivers, from the west, 
 there were meetings with chiefs that were like mad 
 dreams because of suspicion; there were silly de- 
 mands that they pay their way; there were plots to 
 entrap them into trouble, as when a native placed in 
 their path a worthless knife which one of Living- 
 stone's men picked up, and then that was considered 
 occasion for charges and counter charges. Some- 
 times they were on the verge of starvation and driven ' 
 to eat moles and mice; there were days of weary 
 travel in swamps where the air seemed heavy and 
 poisoned, there were miles of travel when they were 
 conscious of human enemies in the jungle following, 
 always unseen, a path parallel to theirs; and there 
 were anxious and uncomfortable nights when they 
 heard whisperings in the dense foliage — ^just one 
 more thing to tax the brain and temper of the fever- 
 stricken leader. After a day of infinite misery, a 
 silly and childish chief sent a messenger to Living- 
 stone, commanding him to rise from his sick bed and 
 make obeisance. But the petty w^ll of the ruler 
 was easily and peacefully negatived by the explorer, 
 who was sore stricken but not to be humiliated. 
 Somehow Livingstone's cool intelligence and courage 
 with regard to himself as well as others always won 
 through, and he was never drawn into any clownish 
 conflicts. But, with it all, despair never bit into his 
 solitude. He not only saw the end as more im- 
 portant than his achievement of it, but never lost 
 his detachment, his awareness of cosmic humor. 
 
THE MARCH TO THE ATLANTIC 121 
 
 But this attitude did not weaken his purpose, it 
 ennobled it. He was no ironic poet, but a mission- 
 ary and explorer with a definite purpose; a religious 
 Scot cutting through Africa to the Atlantic; and 
 although he may have felt the gigantic humor of his 
 situation, he indubitably had a quiet faith and was 
 assured that if a time came when he could in no 
 wise hold off complete disaster, a hand would be 
 stretched out to rescue him. For his faith was very 
 real when things "pinched him sore." 
 
 He records things most strange and thought pro- 
 voking. Once, at the confluence of two rivers, one of 
 his men picked up "a bit of steel watch chain of 
 English manufacture!" Imagination runs riot specu- 
 lating about that. It is as amazing as if someone on 
 an unfrequented sea beach chanced to pick up that 
 wax-encased, tar-enrolled record which Columbus 
 threw overboard. Another time he came across 
 natives who had never seen a white man, and who 
 greeted him with the exclamation "Allah!"; and a 
 second group who saluted him with "Ave'rie" which 
 he took to be a corruption of Ave Maria, as he took 
 the Allah to have strangely passed from mouth to 
 mouth, from Arabia. "The salutation probably 
 travels farther than the faith," he adds. He tells of 
 native children who were given such names as Gun, 
 Horse, Wagon, Jesus, those words having been heard 
 with pleasure by the parents. He writes of a wonder- 
 ful reception when a party of native musicians gave 
 a concert. There were "three drummers, and four 
 performers on the piano." The native name for the 
 
122 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 last-named instrument was Marimba, a sort of 
 xylophone with a sounding-board attached. As he 
 describes it, it "consists of two bars of wood placed 
 side by side, here quite straight, but, farther north, 
 bent round so as to resemble the half tire of a carriage 
 wheel; across these are placed about fifteen wooden 
 keys, each of which is two or three inches broad, and 
 fifteen or eighteen inches long; their thickness is 
 regulated according to the deepness of the note re- 
 quired; each of the keys has a calabash beneath it; 
 from the upper part of each a portion is cut off to 
 enable them to embrace the bars, and form hollow 
 sounding-boards to the keys, which also are of differ- 
 ent sizes, according to the note required; and little 
 drumsticks elicit the music. Rapidity of execution 
 seems much admired among them, and the music is 
 pleasant to the ear." 
 
 Scattered here and there are evidences of that 
 open-mindedness by which he refused to look upon 
 any dissidence from his own belief or opinion as a 
 tremendous evil. Above all, he was in favor of frank- 
 ness and outspokenness and sincere speaking. Mark 
 this as an example. He is writing of some Arabs 
 with whom he once conversed. "When speaking 
 about our Saviour, I admired the boldness with 
 which they informed me 'that Christ was a very good 
 prophet, but Mahommed a far greater.'" This, 
 again, which strikes me as a particularly fine passage 
 as revealing his objection to censoriousness: "The 
 great difficulty in dealing with these people is to make 
 the subject plain. The minds of the auditors cannot 
 
THE MARCH TO THE ATLANTIC I23 
 
 be understood by one who has not mingled much with 
 them. They readily pray for the forgiveness of sins, 
 and then sin again; confess the evil of it, and there the 
 matter ends, ... I shall not often advert to 
 their depravity. My practice has always been to 
 apply the remedy with all possible earnestness, but 
 never allow my own mind to dwell on the dark shades 
 of men's characters. I have never been able to draw 
 pictures of guilt, as if that could awaken Christian 
 sympathy. The evil is there. But all around in this 
 fair creation are scenes of beauty, and to turn from 
 these to ponder on deeds of sin cannot promote a 
 healthy state of the faculties. I attribute much of 
 the bodily health I enjoy to following the plan 
 adopted by most physicians, who, while engaged in 
 active, laborious efforts to assist the needy, at the 
 same time follow the deUghtful studies of some de- 
 partment of natural history. The human misery 
 and sin we endeavor to alleviate and cure may be 
 likened to the sickness and impurity of some of the 
 back slums of great cities. One contents himself 
 by ministering to the sick and trying to remove the 
 causes, without remaining longer in the filth than 
 is necessary for his work; another, equally anxious 
 for the public good, stirs up every cesspool, that he 
 may describe its reeking vapors, and, by long con- 
 tact with impurities, becomes himself infected, sickens 
 and dies." 
 
 At last, on the 31st day of May, 1854, they were 
 in sight of their objective point. Yet it was not that. 
 It was a turning point, for Livingstone had given 
 
124 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 his word to the boy king, and to the natives who were 
 his companions, that he would not leave them, but 
 would see them back in safety to their Linyanti home. 
 So they were to retrace all thoseweary steps presently. 
 They were to face all those jungle horrors, all that 
 phantom world; they were to recross that path of the 
 slave-traders where were drying skeletons, and brutal- 
 ized natives, and ugly cruelty. Again they would 
 have to pass dark swamps, and vast places of fallen 
 trees, and wide stretches of black lagoon water, and 
 strange forest land that was like a phantasmagoria 
 at night. And they were ragged, and thin as skele- 
 tons, and fever-wasted, and travel-worn as they 
 climbed the last hill; but all who had left Linyanti 
 were there still. Not one had fallen by the way by 
 violent death or disease. Nor had the lives of others 
 been wasted. 
 
 Then they saw the sea, on a day bright and calm, 
 the sharpness of the horizon lost in haze. "My 
 companions looked upon the boundless ocean with 
 awe," runs the record, "On describing their feeUngs 
 afterward, they remarked that 'we marched along 
 with our father [Livingstone] beUeving that what 
 the ancients had always told us was true, that the 
 world has no end; but all at once the world said to us, 
 I am finished and there is no more of me!' They had 
 always imagined that the world was one extended 
 plain without limit. . . . They were now some- 
 what apprehensive of suffering want, and I was un- 
 able to allay their fears with any promise of supply; 
 for my own mind was depressed by disease and care. 
 
THE MARCH TO THE ATLANTIC 12$ 
 
 The fever had induced a state of chronic dysentery, 
 so troublesome that I could not remain on the ox 
 more than ten minutes at a time; and as we came 
 down the declivity above the city of Loanda on the 
 thirty-first of May, I was laboring under great de- 
 pression of spirits, as I understood that, in a popu- 
 lation of twelve thousand souls, there was but one 
 genuine English gentleman. I naturally felt anxious 
 to know whether he were possessed of good-nature, 
 or was one of those crusty mortals one would rather 
 not meet at all. 
 
 "This gentleman, Mr. Gabriel, our commissioner 
 for the suppression of the slave-trade, had kindly 
 forwarded an invitation to meet me on way from 
 Cassange, but, unfortunately, it crossed me on the 
 road. When we entered his porch, I was delighted to 
 see a number of flowers cultivated carefully, and in- 
 ferred from this circumstance that he was, what I 
 soon discovered him to be, a real whole-hearted 
 EngHshman. 
 
 "Seeing me ill, he benevolently offered me his bed. 
 Never shall I forget the luxurious pleasure I enjoyed 
 in feehng myself again on a good English couch, 
 after six months' sleeping on the ground. I was soon 
 asleep; and Mr. Gabriel, coming in almost im- 
 mediately, rejoiced at the soundness of my repose." 
 
 So one chapter in the lonely struggle was ended, 
 and the man of courage and command counted it a 
 hopeful sign. But not much more than a sign, after 
 all. What he had done, he held, showed nothing 
 
126 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 more than the impossibility of making a highway ✓ 
 between Linyanti and the coast. To be sure, he and 
 his companions had pushed through, by patient and 
 persistent and organized effort, and they would 
 fight their way back again. But in his opinion 
 there were too many natural obstacles to allow of a 
 hope for any outlet that way. 
 
 Some effort was put upon him to go to England on 
 board a British cruiser, the Forerunner, but he was 
 obdurate. He had given his promise to his native 
 friends, and to Sekeletu, and that promise he would 
 fulfil, for otherwise his companions would be exiles in 
 a strange land. Also, there was Linyanti, cut off 
 from civilization, and if a road from it to the west was 
 not possible, then perhaps a road to the east would 
 be; and that possibility he proposed to investigate. 
 "I therefore resolved to decline the tempting offers 
 of my naval friends, and take back my Makololo 
 companions to their chief, with a view of trying to 
 make a pathway from his country to the east coast 
 by means of the great river Zambesi or Lecambye." 
 Thus writes the amazing man, having in mind a 
 journey on foot comparable to one starting at Seattle, 
 let us say, to walk to Winnipeg, with the purpose of 
 finding a road to New York City. That roughly 
 approximates the chosen route if the turnings and 
 twistings and loopings are taken into account. 
 
 Because of his weakness, Livingstone was unable 
 to start on the back trail before the latter part of 
 September, 1854. But he used the time to ad- 
 vantage, getting his notes in order, and writing full 
 
THE MARCH TO THE ATLANTIC \2J 
 
 reports for the Geographical Society and the Astrono- 
 mer Royal. These he sent to England by the Fore- 
 runner, which carried mail from Africa. 
 
 During his convalescence at Loanda, the pleasing 
 news came to him that his men had, of their own 
 initiative, gone to work for themselves. It was the 
 result of the rigorous discipline to which he had 
 accustomed them. They drove a brisk trade in 
 firewood. They went to work unloading freight from 
 the ships. They did odd jobs in gardens and fields. 
 And they did all that though everything about them 
 was exciting and full of novelty and delight — the 
 ships which they looked upon as towns, the houses, 
 the shops. Discipline had flowered into character. 
 More, with their money they bought wisely, "se- 
 lecting the strongest pieces of English calico and 
 other cloths, showing that they had regard to 
 strength without reference to color." Education had 
 equipped them for life, and they showed themselves 
 adaptable to a new environment. Livingstone could 
 have asked no better proof of the correctness of his 
 theory. It was outstanding evidence of the result 
 of the power of example. 
 
 The general government and merchants of Loanda 
 showed active friendship. By public subscription 
 and otherwise, they obtained as presents for Se- 
 keletu a "colonel's complete uniform and a horse 
 . . . and suits of clothing for all the men" in 
 Livingstone's train. The horse did not survive long, 
 dying from inflammation when they were a few weeks 
 on their journey. There were also "specimens of all 
 
128 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 articles of trade, and two donkeys, for the purpose of 
 introducing the breed into Sekeletu's country, as 
 tsetse flies cannot kill this beast of burden." Living- 
 stone himself took a new tent, a stock of cotton cloth, 
 fresh supplies of ammunition and beads, and pre- 
 sented each of his men with a musket. But they had 
 accumulated so much on their own account that 
 they were unable to carry Livingstone's possessions. 
 He was helped out of this curious difficulty by the 
 Right Reverend Joachim Moreira Reis, who had 
 conceived a strong affection for the Protestant 
 explorer-missionary, and who furnished twenty car- 
 riers and sent forward to all the district chiefs through 
 whose territory Livingstone would pass, orders to 
 give him every assistance possible. 
 
 Not long after leaving Loanda Livingstone heard 
 bad news. The Forerunner had struck a sunken 
 rock off St. Lorenzo, Madeira, October 25, 1854, and 
 mails and fourteen lives had been lost. Livingstone 
 laid up at Pungo Adongo, reproduced the reports 
 and maps, and in his Journal makes no more ado 
 about the tremendous task than if he had mislaid his 
 hat. He was, he says, quite reconciled to the labor 
 of rewriting, because his friend. Lieutenant Beding- 
 feld, to whom he had handed the papers, was not 
 among those lost. 
 
 Before Livingstone left Pungo Adongo, he learned 
 something of his country's affairs — Httle more than a 
 hint, but one that awoke a longing to know more. 
 For a copy of the Times was sent to him by his Loanda 
 friends and, "among other news, an account of the 
 
THE MARCH TO THE ATLANTIC I29 
 
 Russian war up to the terrible charge of the light 
 cavalry. The intense anxiety I felt to hear more may 
 be imagined by every true patriot; but I was forced 
 to brood on in silent thought, and utter my poor 
 prayers for friends who perchance were now no more, 
 until I reached the other side of the continent." 
 This refers, of course, to the famous charge of the six 
 hundred, at the battle of Balaklava, October 25, 
 1854, when six hundred and seventy horsemen at- 
 tacked the Russian batteries, and only a hundred and 
 ninety-eight returned. 
 
 Their greatest trouble in the beginning of the re- 
 turn march was the heavy and incessant rain. Rivers 
 became seas bordered with debris, and inconsiderable 
 rivulets changed overnight into torrents. When no 
 rain was falling, there was still "tree-rain," a steady 
 downpour; and ground under ordinary conditions 
 hard became swollen hke a sponge, or changed to 
 knee-deep bog over which animals refused to pass. 
 Here and there were "quaking meadows" formed 
 by thick carpets of grass upon a soil of mud, or some- 
 times upon shallow water. Often there were miles 
 upon miles of black, stagnant water. When the 
 rain ceased, white mists arose, and it was as if one 
 tried to breathe steam. Nor was it easily possible 
 to find a moderately dry sleeping place, or to find 
 wood dry enough for the making of a fire. 
 
 In such conditions the intermittent fevers from 
 which the explorer had suffered changed into severe 
 attacks of rheumatic fevers, "brought on by being 
 obliged to sleep on an extensive plain covered with 
 
130 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 water. , . . The rain poured down incessantly, 
 but we formed our beds by dragging up the earth into 
 oblong mounds, somewhat like graves in a country 
 churchyard, and then placing grass upon them." 
 A little later on we have this entry: . . the 
 heavy dew upon the high grass was so cold as to 
 cause shivering, and I was forced to lie for eight days, 
 tossing and groaning with violent pain in the head. 
 This was the most severe attack I had endured. It 
 made me quite unfit to move, or even know what was 
 passing outside my little tent." 
 
 While he was thus incapacitated, one of those silly 
 little quarrels which might, at a turn, have grown 
 into something serious, came to pass. 
 
 It began when one of the men of Livingstone's party 
 was bargaining with a native of the country in which 
 they were camped. The trading seems to have gone 
 on for a time with great solemnity, then without ade- 
 quate cause developed into a heated argument, in the 
 course of which the tribesman with the meat was 
 struck in the mouth. Immediately, the result was 
 magnified into a disgrace to the tribe, and men with 
 assegais came running, much as if the men of the 
 Livingstone party had changed to ravening tigers. 
 To make peace and atonement, Livingstone's head- 
 man offered to give five pieces of cloth and a gun, but 
 with the offer made, the other side became eager with 
 increased demands. At that Livingstone crawled 
 from his bed to take a hand, and, learning how 
 matters stood, refused to yield up anything at all. 
 So we picture the natives fierce and threatening. 
 
THE MARCH TO THE ATLANTIC I3I 
 
 blundering about the camp and being driven away, 
 others coming and confusing the issue with talk and 
 explanations that did not explain. Thereupon Liv- 
 ingstone gave the order to march, and the tribes- 
 men seemed to disappear. Seemed to, because they 
 took to that disconcerting and annoying trick of keep- 
 ing on a parallel course, though remaining in hiding, 
 which presignified an attack. 
 
 It came at a place where the travelers had to push 
 through a thick tangle of underbrush. The enemy 
 made a rush, knocking down some of the burden- 
 bearers, and shots were fired. Forgetting his fever, 
 Livingstone charged, staggering as he went, his six- 
 barreled revolver displayed. But not to any ordi- 
 nary native did he go. "I fortunately encountered 
 the chief," is how he puts it. Then: "The sight of 
 the six barrels gaping into his stomach, with my own 
 ghastly visage looking daggers at his face, seemed to 
 produce an instant revolution in his martial feelings, 
 for he cried out, 'Oh! I have only come to speak to 
 you, and wish peace only.' Mashuana [Livingstone's 
 headman] had him by the hand, and found him 
 shaking. We examined his gun, and found that it 
 had been discharged." 
 
 But matters did not end there. One of the enemy, 
 with a desire for distinction, made a rush, and a 
 Livingstone man drove him off with a battle ax. 
 Then Livingstone the executive, with that mysterious 
 trick of producing awe by an exhibition of coolness, 
 took a hand. "I requested all to sit down, and Pit- 
 sane, placing his hand on the revolver, somewhat 
 
132 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 allayed their fears. I said to the chief: 'If you have 
 come with peaceable intentions, we have no other; go 
 away home to your village.' He replied, 'I am afraid 
 lest you shoot me in the back.' I rejoined, 'If I 
 wanted to kill you, I could shoot you in the face as 
 well.' Mosantu called out to me: 'That's only a 
 Makalaka trick; don't give him your back.' But I 
 said, 'Tell him to observe that I am not much afraid 
 of him,' and, turning, mounted my ox. There was 
 not much danger in the fire that was opened at first, 
 there being so many trees. The enemy probably ex- 
 pected that the sudden attack would make us for- 
 sake our goods, and allow them to plunder with ease. 
 The villagers were no doubt pleased with being 
 allowed to retire unscathed, and we were also glad to 
 get away without having shed a drop of blood, or 
 having compromised ourselves for any future visit. 
 My men were delighted with their own bravery, and 
 made the woods ring with telling each other how 
 brilliant their conduct before the enemy would have 
 been, had hostilities not been brought to a sudden 
 close. I do not mention this little skirmish as a 
 very frightful affair. The negro character in these 
 parts, and in Angola, is essentially cowardly, except 
 when influenced by success. A partial triumph over 
 any body of men would induce the whole country to 
 rise in arms, and this is the chief danger to be feared," 
 The rate of travel in this section of the country, 
 which was thickly forested, was about two miles an 
 hour, with three and a half hours' moving each day, 
 and ten traveling days in a month. The long stop- 
 
THE MARCH TO THE ATLANTIC I33 
 
 pages were due to sickness, both of Livingstone and 
 his men. We must picture frequent meetings with 
 slave-dealers, the slaves eight or nine in a chain — 
 natives with strange habits, such as filing the teeth 
 to a point, attaching the hair to a hoop encircHng the 
 head so as to give it "somewhat the appearance of the 
 glory round the head of the Virgin" — some who 
 "never go anywhere without a canary in a cage" — 
 some who "thrum a musical instrument the livelong 
 day, and, when they wake at night, proceed at once 
 to their musical performance" — some who eat white 
 ants. What is extraordinary is Livingstone's state- 
 ment that only once did he see a specimen of quarrel- 
 ing. He adds: "During the whole period of my 
 residence in the Bechuana country, I never saw un- 
 armed men strike each other. Their disputes are 
 usually conducted with great volubility and noisy 
 swearing, but they generally terminate by both 
 parties bursting into a laugh." And always, outside 
 of the slave-raiding territory, there was hospitality: 
 "At every village attempts were made to induce us 
 to remain a night. Sometimes large pots of beer 
 were oflFered to us as a temptation. Occasionally the 
 headman would peremptorily order us to halt under 
 a tree which he pointed out. At other times young 
 men volunteered to guide us to the impassable part of 
 the next bog, in the hope of bringing us to a stand, 
 for all are excessively eager to trade." And once, 
 there was this surprise, as extraordinary as that dis- 
 covery of the piece of steel watch chain, or as that 
 incident told of by Melville where the island chief 
 
134 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 gave the author a set of Smollett's works, or as mine, 
 when I found a copy of Dryden's Virgil in a tin box, 
 on a desolate island olF the coast of Tierra del Fuego. 
 For Livingstone had visited a chief named Kawawa, 
 and had been shown what the native looked upon as 
 great curiosities. Then, as the rarest of things, the 
 old chief "produced a jug, of English ware, shaped 
 like an old man holding a can of beer in his hand." 
 
 There are many strange sights and experiences 
 recorded, as swift glimpses, in the Journal. Once, 
 one of Livingstone's men, resenting w^hat he imagined 
 to be impudence on the part of a villager, showed a 
 tendency to disobey orders; whereupon, without being 
 at all elaborate about it, the explorer rapped his fol- 
 lower on the head with the butt of his pistol, and an 
 incipient revolt was crushed. Again, a chief whose 
 reputation was none too good, sent word that he 
 wished to see the white man, and a kind of studied 
 insult was in his message. So Livingstone went and 
 found the native, whose name was "Lord of the 
 Lake," "a fat jolly fellow, who lamented the fact 
 that when they had no strangers they had plenty 
 of beer and always none when they came." At the 
 end of the visit, the chief gave Livingstone a hand- 
 some present of some meal, and also a large supply 
 of putrid buffalo flesh. There was another chief who, 
 by way of impressing the white man and getting the 
 proper prestige, insisted upon being carried into and 
 from the council on the shoulders of one of his tribe. 
 There were tribes skilled in wood carving. There 
 
THE MARCH TO THE ATLANTIC I35 
 
 were others who made music their chief occupation. 
 There was one chief, a very high-spirited one, who 
 listened to Livingstone's message and at the end 
 signified his desire to embrace Christianity. But, 
 he declared, while he wished to live decently, he 
 would transgress a little while longer, and then live 
 at peace with the world forever after. Often Living- 
 stone submitted to the ceremony of blood brother- 
 hood, the transfusion of blood being a sign that man 
 and man were knit together for life and were as blood 
 relations; the party for Livingstone's side of the 
 ceremony always being one of his men, the other the 
 chief of the friendly tribe. Once, by accident, the 
 explorer became blood relation to a young woman, 
 for, while he was operating upon her for tumor, some 
 blood spurted into his eye. The ceremony was 
 considered by the native as binding as though it had 
 been planned and intended. In one entry, Living- 
 stone gives a full account of some curious funeral 
 obsequies which interested him. "A person having \^ 
 died in the village, we could transact no business 
 with the chief until the funeral obsequies were fin- 
 ished. These occupy about four days, during which 
 there is a constant succession of dancing, wailing, 
 and feasting. Guns are fired by day, and drums 
 beaten by night, and all the relatives, dressed in fan- 
 tastic caps, keep up the ceremonies with spirit 
 proportionate to the amount of beer and beef ex- 
 pended. When there is a large expenditure, the 
 remark is often made afterwards, 'What a fine 
 
136 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 funeral that was!' A figure consisting chiefly of 
 feathers and beads is paraded on these occasions, and 
 seems to be regarded as an idol." 
 
 On July 27th, more than ten months after they left ' 
 the Atlantic coast, they came again to Libonti, the 
 frontier town in Sekeletu's dominions. The strange 
 news of their return had preceded them, and they 
 were greeted with wild demonstrations of joy. "The 
 women came forth to meet us, making their curious 
 dancing gestures and loud lulliloos. Some carried 
 a mat and stick in imitation of a spear and shield. 
 Others rushed forward and kissed the hands and 
 cheeks of the different persons of their acquaintance 
 among us, raising such a dust that it was quite a 
 reUef to get to the men assembled and sitting with 
 proper African decorum in the kotla. We were 
 looked upon as men risen from the dead, for the most 
 skillful of their diviners had pronounced us to 
 have perished long ago." Then, after Livingstone 
 had spoken briefly, came an infinity of native elo- 
 quence with the man Pituane telHng at great length 
 details of the journey, praising Livingstone and all 
 white men, saying that the story of their friend's 
 fame filled all men's minds, that chiefs everywhere 
 had been conciliated; and, generally, in the manner 
 of speakers, leaving the impression that he and his 
 fellows of the platform were to be envied and ad- 
 mired. And when Livingstone, on the day following, 
 held services, there were his veterans all decked out 
 in their best with the white European clothes and 
 
THE MARCH TO THE ATLANTIC I37 
 
 red sashes which they had bought on the coast, 
 worshiping and giving thanks, with their muskets 
 over their shoulders, while men, women, and children 
 gazed at them, the hatlabani, or braves, fascinated. 
 And the hatlabani chanted loud odes in their own 
 praise, not only at that place, but at every village, 
 until they came to Linyanti. There Sekeletu met 
 [the travelers, and was very royal, and very genial; 
 and with lofty gestures very graciously accepted the 
 presents offered him, all in the manner of monarchs 
 ^ince the ruling of men first began. The entire re- 
 turn journey from Loanda to Linyanti had taken from 
 September 20, 1854, until September 11, 1855, and 
 Livingstone had not lost a man on the way. 
 
 There was, awaiting the explorer-missionary, a fine 
 evidence of faithfulness to him. In the month of 
 September, 1854, some natives had arrived at Lin- 
 yanti, carrying certain packages for "The Living- 
 stone," which had been passed from hand to hand, as 
 it were, originating with Mrs. Moffat down at 
 Kolobeng. They were brought in on the last stage 
 by enemies of the Makololo, who, being hailed by the 
 bearers, from across the river, had suspected a ruse 
 and a trap, perhaps the delivering of witchcraft 
 medicine. But the Matabele were determined to 
 carry out their mission, because of their love for 
 Livingstone, so laid down the packages on the river 
 bank, saying: "Here are the things; we place them 
 now before you, and if you leave them to perish, the 
 guilt will be yours." Then they turned away on their 
 homeward march. After a little while the Makololo, 
 
138 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 having fortified themselves with much divination, 
 crossed the river and secured the packages, which 
 they carried to an island in the middle of the river, 
 and there built a weatherproof hut over them. 
 There Livingstone found them a year later — news- 
 papers, a letter from his son, and a good supply of 
 food prepared by the capable Mrs. MofFat, preserves, 
 tea and coffee, sugar, and certainly salt, for Living- 
 stone often went without these things for months. 
 
 One pictures the Makololo, watching the white 
 man open the suspected packages, half expecting the 
 enemy's wizard's power to cause a dire calamity. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 VICTORIA FALLS AND HOME 
 
 TWO months after Livingstone's arrival at 
 Sekeletu's capital there was a new excitement. 
 It was on the third day of November, the year 
 1855. A procession of two hundred men marched 
 out of Linyanti, laughing and chanting; some of 
 them carrying burdens, some bearing battle axes or 
 spears and shields. Twelve oxen were in the train, 
 laden with bales of merchandise. There were others 
 who were accompanying the procession a short dis- 
 tance by way of wishing Godspeed — important men 
 from neighboring tribes — the Lebeole, the Ntlarie, 
 the Nkwatlele, and others, some having come for the 
 purpose a hundred miles and more. After the train 
 had disappeared over the low-lying hill and the dust 
 that hung suspended in the air for a while had 
 settled, another party, some of them on horseback, 
 forty all told, rode out. And with them were 
 Livingstone and King Sekeletu. It was the royal 
 bodyguard, this second party, and was composed 
 of young men, handsome with their tossing ostrich 
 plumes and lions' manes, their weapons and their 
 barbaric ornaments; beautiful in their litheness; full 
 of merriment and glorified by their high-hearted 
 happiness. 
 
 139 
 
140 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 Night overtook the party just before they reached 
 the tsetse belt, for crossing that in the dark was the 
 only safe way, and they had planned long and well 
 for this trip. 
 
 For Sekeletu and his advisers were eager for Living- 
 stone's success to the end that a road might be 
 opened eastward to civihzation. "You are now go- 
 ing among people who cannot be trusted because we 
 have used them badly," had said the dignified 
 Mamire, in council. Then he had added: "But you 
 go with a different message from any they ever heard 
 before, and Jesus will be with you, and help you, 
 though among enemies; and if he carries you safely, 
 and brings you and Ma Robert [Mrs. Livingstone] 
 back again, I shall say that he has bestowed a great 
 favor on me. May we obtain a path whereby we 
 may visit and be visited by other tribes, and by 
 white men!" That last wish became almost a tribal 
 prayer. 
 
 When the question of money came to be con- 
 sidered, for Livingstone had told them of his poverty 
 and inability to pay the men at the end of the trip, 
 Mamire, who having married Sekeletu's mother, had 
 authority, said: "A man wishes, of course, to appear 
 among his friends, after a long absence, with some- 
 thing of his own to show." Then, in a burst of 
 generosity, he told Livingstone, the king, and the 
 council this: "The whole of the ivory in the country 
 is yours, so you must take as much as you can, and 
 Sekeletu will furnish men to carry it." The man 
 was kindness itself, though he could unchain a fierce 
 
VICTORIA FALLS AND HOME 
 
 141 
 
 beast in himself on occasion, especially against the 
 Boers. For he remembered how, as a child, when his 
 tribe lived south of the desert, there had been a Boer 
 raid on his village, and he had hidden in an ant- 
 eater's hole. But he was discovered by a burly Boer, 
 who thrashed the lad with a hippopotamus whip 
 within an inch of his life. Because of that, he was 
 willing to accept the doctrine of peace on earth, 
 except where it concerned the Boers. "Teach the 
 Boers to lay down their arms first," he always said. 
 They were outside the pale of his sympathy. 
 
 But there were other things discussed in Linyanti, 
 besides plans and prospects, during those last few 
 days. For, with black men as with the white, fact 
 was all mixed with fiction, truth and the grotesque 
 all mingled. There were the credulous and there 
 were those who took a mischievous delight in telling 
 frightening tales. So Livingstone heard of places 
 that were haunted. He was told of a narrow place 
 on the Chobe River where lived, under the water, a 
 monster that reached up to hold a canoe motionless in 
 spite of every effort made by the paddlers to move 
 it. He heard of a pot of medicine which had been 
 buried by one Sekote, a powerful chief and magician; 
 a kind of Pandora's casket it seemed to be, for, when 
 opened, out would fly a fearful pestilence to destroy 
 all living creatures. He also heard, with much de- 
 tail, stories of a place called Shongwe, a name that 
 might be supposed to mean "The Seething Cauldron," 
 out of which came Mosi-oa-Tounya, or "Smoke That 
 Sounds. ' The last report he intended to investigate, 
 
142 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 the more because he had been told of the wonder 
 years before, when Oswell had been his companion. 
 
 So he investigated, and his investigation was fruit- 
 ful, for ten days' journey from Linyanti, and the day 
 after Sekeletu bade him farewell at the village of Ka- 
 lai, Livingstone saw the strange apparition of five tall 
 columns of vapor, looking like smoke from great 
 grass fires. "Bending in the direction of the wind, 
 they seemed placed against a low ridge covered with 
 trees; the tops of the columns at this distance ap- 
 peared to mingle with the clouds. They were white 
 below, and higher up became dark, so as to simulate 
 smoke very closely. The whole scene was extremely 
 beautiful; the banks and islands . . . adorned 
 with vegetation of great variety of color and form." 
 So it was on November the fourteenth that David 
 Livingstone discovered one of the natural wonders 
 of the world, the Victoria Falls. 
 
 Curious to see and to measure, and daring tre- 
 mendously, because of the danger of being swept over 
 the falls by the current, though the river was low, 
 he drifted in a light canoe down to the edge of the 
 falls, and landed on an island in midstream, situated 
 on the edge of the precipice much as Goat Island is 
 hung on the edge of Niagara. While in the canoe, 
 when a few yards from his landing place, it was not 
 possible to see where the water went, for "it seemed 
 to lose itself in the earth, the opposite Hp of the fissure 
 into which it disappeared being only eighty feet 
 distant." Landing, and lying flat on the uttermost 
 edge of the little island, he "peered down into a large 
 
VICTORIA FALLS AND HOME 
 
 rent which had been made from bank to bank of the 
 broad Zambesi, and saw that a stream of a thousand 
 yards broad leaped down a hundred feet, and then 
 became suddenly compressed into a space of fifteen 
 or twenty yards. The entire falls are simply a crack 
 made in a hard basaltic rock from the right to the left 
 bank of the Zambesi, and then prolonged from the 
 left bank away through thirty or forty miles of hills." 
 
 Finding good soil on the island, he returned the 
 following day and planted "about a hundred peach 
 and apricot stones, and a quantity of coffee seeds" in 
 the hope that it would be "the parent of all the gar- 
 dens which may yet be in this new country." He 
 also did another thing, and records it in a Pepysean 
 spirit of self-accusation. Thus: "When the garden 
 was prepared, I cut my initials on a tree, and the 
 date, 1855. This was the only instance in which I 
 indulged in this piece of vanity." Surely the man 
 who had a hazy feeling of disquietude about so small 
 a step from his incHnations of self-effacement, must 
 have touched hands with the gods. 
 
 On his second trip to the falls, in August, i860, he 
 took careful measurements and found the breadth of 
 the Zambesi to be 1,860 yards. "The depth of the 
 rift was measured by lowering a line to the end 
 of which a few bullets and a foot of white cotton cloth 
 were tied. One of us lay with his head over a pro- 
 jecting crag, and watched the descending caUco, till, 
 after his companions had paid out 310 feet, the 
 weight rested on a sloping projection, probably 50 
 feet from the water below, the actual bottom being 
 
144 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 Still further down. The white cloth now appeared 
 the size of a crown piece. On measuring the width 
 of this deep cleft by sextant, it was found at Garden 
 Island, its narrowest part, to be eighty yards, and 
 at its broadest, somewhat more. Into this chasm, of 
 twice the depth of Niagara Falls, the river, a full 
 mile wide, rolls with a deafening roar." As for the 
 channel below the falls, Livingstone describes it as 
 if we should imagine "the trough below Niagara 
 were bent right and left several times before it 
 reached the railroad bridge."* 
 
 On the occasion of the second visit to the Victoria 
 Falls, Livingstone took occasion to explore the 
 promontories below the falls, made by the zigzag 
 river course, and on the second angular strip of high 
 land found a mystery. It was "a broad rhinoceros 
 path and a hut: but, unless the builder were a her- 
 mit with a pet rhinoceros, we cannot conceive what 
 beast or man ever went there for." 
 
 Summing up Livingstone's description of the Zam- 
 besi and the falls, we gain an idea of a broad river 
 above the precipice, smoothly flowing because the 
 incline is gentle, looking somewhat like an island- 
 dotted lake, with coconut trees growingon the islands. 
 It is evident that there was no great current at the 
 
 *In the year 1863, Sir Richard Glyn and his brother, being on a hunting 
 expedition, went to Garden Island and found that the trees planted by 
 Livingstone had been destroyed by hippopotami. It is pleasant to know 
 that Sir Richard deepened, carefully, the initials 
 
 D. L. 
 
 1855 
 
 on the tree which Livingstone regretted having marred. 
 
I 
 
 VICTORIA FALLS AND HOME I45 
 
 time Livingstone visited it; otherwise, he could not 
 have reached the island called "The Garden," from 
 which he took his measurements. That island, 
 which was thickly covered with vegetation, cuts the 
 falls into two portions, one of which, according to 
 Reclus, is 1,858 yards wide, the other 546 yards 
 wide. The ten columns of mist or vapor which give 
 the native name of Mosi-oa-Tounya, "Smoke That 
 Sounds" to the falls are caused by ten rocky pro- 
 jections at the foot of the falls, rocks of black basalt, 
 upon which the water dashes. Baines, in his Ex- 
 ploration of Southeast Africa, says that the mist 
 columns rise to a height of 1,000 or 1,150 feet. 
 
 Of the river below the falls, with its curiously 
 crooked channel, there is this in the second volume 
 of the Journal: "Looking from Garden Island down 
 to the bottom of the abyss, nearly half a mile of water 
 which has fallen over that portion of our falls to the 
 right, or west of our point of view, is seen collected in 
 a narrow channel twenty or thirty yards wide, and 
 flowing at exactly right angles to its previous course, 
 to our left; while the other half, or that which fell 
 over the eastern portion of the falls, is seen in the 
 left of the narrow channel below, coming toward 
 our right. Both waters unite midway, in a fearful 
 boiling whirlpool, and find an outlet by a crack 
 situated at right angles to the fissure of the falls. 
 This outlet is 1,170 yards from the western end of 
 the chasm and some 600 from its eastern end; the 
 whirlpool is at its commencement. The Zambesi, 
 now apparently not more than twenty or thirty 
 
146 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 yards wide, rushes and surges south, through the 
 narrow escape channel for a hundred and thirty 
 yards; then enters the second chasm somewhat 
 deeper, and nearly parallel with the first. Abandon- 
 ing the bottom of the eastern half of this second 
 chasm to the growth of large trees, it turns sharply 
 off to the west, and forms a promontory, with the 
 escape channel at its point, of 1,170 yards long, and 
 four hundred and sixteen at its base. After reaching 
 this base the river runs abruptly round the head of 
 another promontory, and flows away to the east, in 
 the third chasm; then glides around the third prom- 
 ontory, much narrower than the rest, and away back 
 to the west, in a fourth chasm; and we could see in the 
 distance that it appeared to round still another 
 promontory, and then once more in another chasm 
 toward the east. In this gigantic, zigzag, yet narrow 
 trough, the rocks are all so sharply cut and angular 
 that the idea at once arises that the hard basaltic 
 trap must have been riven into its present shape by 
 a force acting from beneath, and that this probably 
 took place when the ancient inland seas were let off 
 by similar fissures nearer the ocean. . . . The 
 land beyond, or on the south of the falls, retains, 
 as already remarked, the same level as before the 
 rent was made. It is as if the trough below Niagara 
 were bent right and left several times before it 
 reached the railway bridge. The land in the sup- 
 posed bends being of the same height as that above 
 the fall, would give standing places, or points of 
 view, of the same nature as that from the railway 
 
VICTORIA FALLS AND HOME 
 
 (Niagara) bridge; but the nearest would be only 
 eighty yards, instead of two miles (the distance to 
 the bridge), from the face of the cascade. The tops 
 of the promontories are in general flat, smooth, and 
 studded with trees. The first, with its base to the 
 east, is at one place so narrow that it would be 
 dangerous to walk to its extremity." 
 
 This also is interesting, as written by Charles 
 Livingstone: "Among the first questions asked by 
 Sebituane of Mr. Oswell and Dr. Livingstone, in 
 1 85 1, was 'Have you any smoke-soundings in your 
 country?' and 'What causes the smoke to rise for 
 ever so high out of water ? ' In that year its fame was 
 heard two hundred miles off, and it was approached 
 within two days; but it was seen by no European till 
 1855, when Dr. Livingstone visited it on his way to 
 the east coast. Being then accompanied as far as 
 the fall by Sekeletu and two hundred followers, 
 his stay was necessarily short; and the two days there 
 were employed in observations for fixing the geo- 
 graphical position of the place, and turning the 
 showers, that at times sweep in columns of vapor 
 across the island, to account in teaching the Makololo 
 arboriculture, and making that garden from which 
 the natives named the island. . . . Before 
 leaving the most wonderful falls in the world, one 
 may be excused for referring to the fact that, though 
 they had produced a decided impression on the 
 native mind in the interior, no intelligence of their 
 existence ever reached the Portuguese. About 1809 
 two black slaves, named Pedro Baptista and Andre 
 
148 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 Jose, were sent from Cassange, a village three hun- 
 dred miles from the west coast, through the country 
 of Cazembe, to Tette, nearly an equal distance from 
 the east coast. A lady now living at Tette, Donna 
 Eugenia, remembers distinctly these slaves — their 
 woolly hair dressed in the Loanda fashion — arriving 
 and remaining at Tette till letters came from the 
 governor general at Mozambique, which they suc- 
 cessfully carried back to Cassange. On this slender 
 fiber hangs all the Portuguese pretensions of having 
 possessed a road across Africa. Their maps show 
 the course of the Zambesi S. S. W. of Zumbo, about 
 where the Falls were found; and on this very question- 
 able authority, an untraveled English map-maker, 
 with most amusing assurance, asserts that the river 
 above the Falls runs under the Kalahari desert and 
 is lost. . . . The ground is strewn with agates 
 for ja number of miles above the Falls; but the fires, 
 which burn off the grass yearly, have injured most 
 of those on the surface." 
 
 As stated above by Charles Livingstone, the ex- 
 plorer remained at the falls only two days, and when 
 his party pushed onward, Sekeletu and the escorting 
 party returned to Linyanti. 
 
 Now and then, on the march, there were discoveries 
 of ancient civilizations, or attempts at civilization, 
 as astonishing surely as when one comes upon the 
 troglodyte dwellings in Cappadocia, or sights for the 
 first time one of those ruined temples in parts of 
 Central America. In one case, there is mention of 
 their passing "a very large town, which, from the 
 
VICTORIA FALLS AND HOME I49 
 
 only evidence of antiquity alForded by ruins in this 
 country, must have been inhabited for a long period; 
 the millstones of gneiss, trap, and quartz were worn 
 down two and a half inches perpendicularly." There 
 were also gravestones of ivory, rotted away. And on 
 the 14th of January, 1856, there was a discovery of 
 stone ruins and in the jungle tangle "the remains 
 of a church, and on one side lay a broken bell, with 
 the letters 1. H. S. and a cross, but no date. There 
 were no inscriptions on stone, and the people could 
 not tell what the Bazunga called their place. We 
 found afterwards it was Zumbo." That was in lat. 
 I5°37'22"S., long. 30°32'E. 
 
 Doubtless it was an abandoned Jesuit colony or 
 mission, and the sight of it gave the explorer- 
 missionary "some turmoil of spirit ... at the 
 prospect of having all efforts for the welfare of this 
 great region and its teeming population knocked on 
 the head by savages to-morrow who might be said 
 to 'know not what they do.' It seemed such a pity 
 that the important fact of the existence of the two 
 healthy ridges which I had discovered should not be 
 known to Christendom, for a confirmation would 
 thereby have been given to the idea that Africa is 
 now open to the Gospel." 
 
 Two weeks after that they touched the fringe of 
 civilization in a way, for on the first day of February 
 there came to the camp a couple of native traders, 
 primitive pack men, who spread out their goods and 
 displayed Massachusetts-made calico, marked: 
 
 "LAWRENCE MILLS, LOWELL." 
 
DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 So Livingstone bought liberally for his half-naked 
 men, and paid with ivory. But although there were 
 signs of touching the edges of commerce, the natives 
 were hberal and hospitable, as, indeed, he had found 
 them almost everywhere. "The real politeness with 
 which food is given by nearly all the interior tribes, 
 who have not had much intercourse with Europeans," 
 he writes, " makes it a pleasure to accept. Again and 
 again I have heard an apology made for the smallness 
 of the present, or regret expressed that they had not 
 received notice of my approach in time to grind 
 more, and generally they readily accepted our ex- 
 cuse at having nothing to give in return by saying 
 that they were quite aware that there are no white 
 men's goods in the interior." 
 
 Livingstone heaped his scorn on the heads of those 
 of his own race and color who boasted of the ease 
 with which they hoodwinked the natives, giving 
 them nothing in return for much, and calling it trade- 
 gains. "How some men can offer three buttons, or 
 some other equally contemptible gift, while they have 
 abundance intheir possession, is to me unaccountable. 
 They surely do not know, when they write it in their 
 books, that they are declaring they have compromised 
 the honor of Englishmen. The people receive the 
 offering with a degree of shame, and ladies may be 
 seen to hand it quickly to the attendants, and, when 
 they retire, laugh until the tears stand in their eyes, 
 saying to those about them, *Is that a white man? 
 Then there are niggards among them, too. Some of 
 them are born without hearts!' One white trader, 
 
VICTORIA FALLS AND HOME I5I 
 
 having presented an old gun to a chief, became a 
 standing joke in the tribe: 'The white man who made 
 a present of a gun that was new when his grandfather 
 was sucking his great-grandmother.' When these 
 tricks are repeated, the natives come to the con- 
 clusion that people who show such a want of sense 
 must be told their duty; they therefore let them know 
 what they ought to give, and travelers then complain 
 of being pestered with their 'shameless begging.' I 
 was troubled by importunity on the confines of 
 civilization only, and when I first came to Africa." 
 There is evidence of something we might have in- 
 ferred: that Livingstone's sense of fair play was not 
 limited to the ordinary situation. His ethics was 
 disinterested and his mind flexible. 
 
 As for Livingstone's conduct toward those who 
 hadn't that sense of fair play, and who invaded the 
 rights of others, there is recorded in the Journal an 
 interesting example. Between village and village, 
 the headmen generally furnished guides, and some- 
 times, on long marches over not too difficult country, 
 guides were hired. "One of our guides was an in- 
 veterate talker, always stopping and asking for pay, 
 that he might go on with a merry heart. I thought 
 that he led us in the most difficult paths in order to 
 make us feel his value, for, after passing through one 
 thicket after another, we always came into the bed 
 of the Nake again, and as that was full of coarse 
 sand, and the water only ankle deep, and as hot as a 
 footbath from the powerful rays of the sun, we were 
 all completely tired out. He likewise gave us a bad 
 
152 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 character at every village we passed, calling to them 
 that they were to allow him to lead us astray, as we 
 were a bad lot. Sekwebu knew every word he said, 
 and, as he became intolerable, I dismissed him, giving 
 him six feet of calico I had bought from native 
 traders, and telling him that his tongue was a nuis- 
 ance. It is in general best, when a scolding is neces- 
 sary, to give it in combination with a present, and 
 then end it with good wishes. This fellow went off 
 smihng, and my men remarked, 'His tongue is cured 
 now.'" 
 
 Following down the course of the Zambesi, the 
 rate of march was ten or twelve miles a day. The 
 atmosphere of the valley was heavy with moisture. 
 We have a notion of the explorer's physical distress 
 from occasional scattered remarks. "I drank less 
 than the natives, but all my clothing was constantly 
 damp from the moisture which was imbibed from 
 every pond. One does not stay on these occasions 
 to prepare water with alum or anything else, but 
 drinks any amount without fear. I never felt the 
 atmosphere so steamy as on the low-lying lands of the 
 Zambesi. . . . Pedestrianism may be all very 
 well for those whose obesity requires much exercise, 
 but for one who was becoming as thin as a lath, 
 through the constant perspiration caused by march- 
 ing day after day in the hot sun, the only good I saw 
 in it was that it gave an honest sort of man a vivid 
 idea of the treadmill. . , . As we sometimes 
 pushed aside the masses of rank vegetation which 
 hung over our path, we felt a sort of hot blast on our 
 
VICTORIA FALLS AND HOME I53 
 
 faces." Long before they reached the edge of the 
 country which had connections with the settlement 
 of Tette, their commissariat had run low and game 
 was scarce, so that they were reduced to the eating 
 of roots and wild honey. 
 
 Eight miles from Tette, knowing that his responsi- 
 bilities for the safety of those with him were nearly 
 at an end, the man of unwearying industry and all- 
 embracing sympathy suddenly became conscious of 
 his own weakness. It was the evening of March 2, 
 1856, and a two-hours' march would mean the ease 
 and comfort of border civilization. But it would also 
 mean a tremendous expenditure of energy in the way 
 of greeting and of adaptation to an unaccustomed 
 environment. So Livingstone, desiring rest more 
 than anything else, flung himself down to sleep. 
 His men begged him to go on, for they were eager for 
 the excitements of a white man's place. But the 
 master refused. He was enjoying perfect tran- 
 quillity under the stars. In the end, he sent forward 
 the most eager of his men with a letter to the Com- 
 mandant, Major Tito Augusto d'Araujo Sicard, and 
 gave himself up to sound repose. Then, at two in 
 the morning, there came to the camp two officers 
 and a company of soldiers, and the officer who sent 
 them had not forgotten to send food. "It was the 
 most refreshing breakfast I ever partook of, and I 
 walked the last eight miles without the least feeling 
 of weariness, although the path was so rough that one 
 of the officers remarked to me, 'This is enough to 
 tear a man's hfe out of him.' The pleasure experi- 
 
154 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 enced in partaking of that breakfast was only equaled 
 by the enjoyment of Mr. Gabriel's bed on my arrival 
 at Loanda. It was also enhanced by the news that 
 Sebastopol had fallen and the war was finished." 
 
 For twenty days Livingstone and his men stayed in 
 the Portuguese settlement. After the first day, in 
 which whites and natives interrogated him curiously, 
 wondering at what he told, there were little expedi- 
 tions to points of interest in the surrounding country. 
 Tette he found only passably prosperous, taking into 
 consideration the natural wealth all about, but other 
 Portuguese settlements he saw were in deplorable 
 state, mean and wretched colonies in which the slave- 
 owning whites had become parasitic, and which were 
 almost abandoned, as far as financial support was 
 concerned, by the mother country. "It is impossible 
 to describe the miserable state of decay into which 
 the Portuguese possessions have sunk," he writes. 
 "The revenues are not equal to the expenses, and 
 every officer I met told the same tale, that he had 
 not received one farthing of pay for the last four 
 years. ... If the Portuguese really wish to 
 develop the resources of the rich country beyond 
 their possessions, they ought to invite the coopera- 
 tion of other nations on equal terms with themselves. 
 Let the pathway into the interior be free for all; and, 
 instead of wretched forts, with scarcely an acre of 
 land around them which can be called their own, let 
 real colonies be made. If, instead of military estab- 
 lishments, we had civil ones, and saw emigrants going 
 out with their wives, plows, and seeds, rather than 
 
VICTORIA FALLS AND HOME 
 
 military convicts with bugles and kettledrums, we 
 might hope for a return of prosperity to Eastern 
 Africa." There spoke the man who saw a vision of 
 a fair and wide Hfe through industry; who saw a 
 right education of a people through discipHne; who 
 saw death by parasitism for those who thought to 
 hve in luxury and ease on the labor of others. And 
 he spoke as he thought, though those whom he chided 
 were his hosts and entertainers. 
 
 It was the twentieth day of May, 1856, before the 
 party reached the little port of Quilimane at the 
 mouth of the Zambesi. The journey from Linyanti 
 had taken more than half a year, and, since his first 
 setting foot in Africa, David Livingstone had walked, 
 or ridden on ox back, and chiefly through unexplored 
 country, more than eleven thousand miles, without 
 counting what might be called side excursions made 
 from the main line of travel. 
 
 But at last he was homeward bound. He saw his 
 followers and attendants comfortably settled on 
 lands adjacent to Quilimane where they would wait 
 until his promised return. He sold the greater part 
 of the ivory given to him by Sekeletu, and, with the 
 proceeds, paid his men and purchased necessities, 
 which he sent back to the Makololo king. Twenty 
 tusks, not sold, he placed in safety until his return; 
 and with instructions that in case of his death they 
 should be sold and the proceeds dehvered to his 
 followers and aids. So, his house set in order, he 
 boarded the Frolic for England. 
 
 "I felt myself at home in everything except my 
 
DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 native tongue. I seemed to know the language per- 
 fectly, but the words I wanted would not come at 
 my call. When I left England I had no intention of 
 returning, and directed my attention earnestly to the 
 languages of Africa, paying none to English com- 
 position. With the exception of a short interval in 
 Angola, I had been three and a half years without 
 speaking English, and this, with thirteen years of 
 previous partial disuse of my native tongue, made 
 me feel sadly at loss on board the Frolic." And in 
 the Journals not a word of loneliness. 
 
 But the passage quoted has more than casual value 
 and meaning. For perhaps I have not sufficiently 
 emphasized that Livingstone, in his intercourse with 
 many kinds of natives of various tribes, did not de- 
 pend upon those contortions and silly meaningless 
 gestures that some travelers call sign language. On 
 the contrary, he says, again and again, that trouble 
 with natives often arises from misunderstanding, 
 and the inability to converse. Time after time he re- 
 cords instances where potential trouble was averted, 
 as in the case of the Chiboque, by talking the matter 
 over. In that case, it is abundantly clear that a 
 disastrous cloud was gathering, but, as the entry 
 reads: "I sat on my camp-stool, with my double- 
 barreled gun across my knees, and invited the chief 
 to be seated also. When he and his counselors had 
 sat down on the ground in front of me, I asked what 
 crime we had committed that he had come armed in 
 that way." So he opened the safety valve for ill 
 humors. The account goes on for a couple of pages, 
 
VICTORIA FALLS AND HOME 
 
 telling how this one and that expressed an opinion, 
 or gave reasons, or gave vent to emotions in a lengthy 
 speech. But all the time anger was evaporating. 
 You see Livingstone cool and self-possessed, but by- 
 no means bhnd to perilous reahties in front and in the 
 rear and on both sides; but, what is extraordinary, 
 you quite forget that negotiations are being carried 
 on in a foreign tongue with the white man quite com- 
 fortably articulate, concentrating on the different 
 speakers' words and meanwhile very profitably 
 forming estimates of the character and abilities and 
 mental processes of those about him. Remembering 
 all that, some notion is gained of the tremendous diffi- 
 culties he overcame before he was able to make him- 
 self so plainly understood. For, as he passed through 
 this territory or that, he always made it a point 
 to converse with the natives in their own tongues, 
 to learn their ways and customs, if at all possible, 
 and it generally was, so as to come to an under- 
 standing of their beliefs and superstitions. Remem- 
 bering also that each tribe had a different dialect, 
 more and more it becomes clear that his task was 
 tremendous; and, what is more, that his intellectual 
 grasp and ability are something to wonder at. Yet, 
 in the Journals written from day to day, there is not 
 a single mention of this matter which he considered 
 the main stream. Only one passage hints at it, and 
 from that we infer that he made a careful study of 
 the roots of the words of the different dialects and 
 came to a conclusion which would have delighted 
 Max Miiller or Herbert Spencer, which was that all 
 
158 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 the dialects grew out of two original languages, and 
 that their differences indicate migrations. 
 
 To go back to the story: Two of the natives, 
 Sekwebu the faithful, and his friend, begged to be 
 allowed to go to England. But Livingstone knew 
 himself able to afford to take one only, and he 
 chose Sekwebu. To the other, he had said, trying 
 to dissuade him with kindness, "You will die if you 
 go to such a cold country as mine." But, "That is 
 nothing," replied the native. "Let me die at your 
 feet." In the end, only Sekwebu was allowed to go. 
 But he never saw England. When they reached the 
 Mauritius, August 12, 1856, the bewildered native 
 went insane and committed suicide in most ex- 
 traordinary manner. Livingstone, perhaps in tribute 
 to his colored friend, whom he greatly admired and 
 loved, ends his book, Missionary Travels, with an 
 account of the affair, and it would be an ungracious 
 thing to do other than tell the tale in the explorer's 
 words. 
 
 He writes: "The constant strain on his untu- 
 tored mind seemed now to reach a climax, for dur- 
 ing the night he became insane. I thought at first 
 that he was intoxicated. He had descended into a 
 boat, and, when I attempted to go down and bring 
 him into the ship, he ran to the stem and said,' No! 
 No! It is enough that I should die alone! You 
 must not perish; if you come I shall throw myself 
 into the water.' Perceiving that his mind was af- 
 fected, I said, 'Now, Sekwebu, we are going to Ma 
 
VICTORIA FALLS AND HOME 
 
 Robert.' This struck a chord in his bosom, and he 
 said, 'Oh, yes; where is she? And where is Robert?' 
 and seemed to recover. The officers proposed to 
 secure him by putting him in irons; but, being a 
 gentleman in his own country, I objected, knowing 
 that the insane often retain an impression of ill treat- 
 ment, and I could not bear to have itsaid in Sekeletu's 
 country that I had chained one of his principal men 
 as they had seen slaves treated. I tried to get him 
 on shore by day, but he refused. In the evening a 
 fresh accession of insanity occurred; he tried to spear 
 one of the crew, then leaped overboard, and, though 
 he could swim well, pulled himself down, hand under 
 hand, by the chain cable. We never found the body 
 of poor Sekwebu." 
 
 We picture Livingstone resting for a month and 
 overflowing with joy and thankfulness, the guest of 
 Governor General Hay in the Mauritius. We see 
 him, after that, quiet but full of the thorough happi- 
 ness that comes from the knowledge of a game well 
 played, on the deck of the P. & O. steamer that car- 
 ried him by way of the Mediterranean to Marseilles. 
 Already the fatigues and the dangers of his African 
 expedition were, to some extent, thrust aside and half 
 forgotten, for a vigorous and adventurous mood was 
 growing within him. For, like all men who have 
 Hved away from civilization for any length of time, 
 he was out of touch with things; that which occupied 
 the minds of most men must have seemed trivial to 
 the point of worthlessness; the very necessary ameni- 
 ties of intercourse must have seemed odd, even soul- 
 
i6o 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 Stunting after the individual directness of the primi- 
 tive man. The activities of cities must have seemed 
 grotesque to the man who had known sun-scorched 
 years in a land of wild beasts and torturing insects. 
 For the man of Spartan disciphne, the cushioned 
 seats of trains, the pageantry and show of Paris, the 
 shackles and restraints of society must have con- 
 trasted oddly and unpleasantly with the primal 
 forces and bright dangers that he had known for so 
 long. But, because of that immense breadth of 
 experience, he was easily capable of swift adaptation 
 to the new environment. So we see him crossing 
 France, and living quietly in hotels, a man unnoticed. 
 
 Of his personal appearance at the time, we have an 
 excellent pen picture drawn by an unidentified writei* 
 in the Nonconformist. "A foreign-looking person, 
 plainly and rather carelessly dressed, of middle height, 
 bony frame and Gaelic countenance, with short- 
 cropped hair and mustache and generally plain ex- 
 terior. His face is deeply furrowed and well tanned. 
 . . , . Unanimated, its most characteristic ex- 
 pression is that of severity. . . I have been 
 unable to find any reference to his arrival in the Paris 
 papers of the day. Perhaps France knew nothing of 
 him, for the French mind was occupied with the de- 
 tails of the meeting of the French Em.peror and the 
 Czar of Russia. At Southampton, Mary his wife 
 was waiting for him, and they went to London at 
 once. 
 
 Then dull, stolid England, so occupied with com- 
 merce and invention and colonization, so submerged 
 
VICTORIA FALLS AND HOME l6l 
 
 in its little businesses and its politics — England of 
 no very passionate emotions suddenly realized that in 
 its midst was a man to deserve admiration and respect 
 and more. One of her sons, an unconsidered one, 
 had renounced all for which most men strive, and 
 now stood before her, an heroic figure. So London 
 of December the ninth forgot to talk of its current 
 sensations; of Belfast religious riots; and how the 
 jewels of a countess had been stolen from a cab-top; 
 and what Parliament was going to do; and what a 
 wife-murderer had said when he paid the price of his 
 crime at the Old Bailey. For a new tale rang from 
 London to John o'Groats, and from John o'Groats to 
 Land's End. And there were sermons, and articles, 
 and editorials, and pamphlets. Great Britain's mil- 
 lions were, for a moment, the better and the nobler 
 because of one man's patient industry and deter- 
 mination. For a flash of time strength was developed 
 in others because of one man's character. For a 
 while, to the doubtful and the wavering he was a 
 source of courage. Men were more intellectually 
 alive because he had shown what an active mind and 
 calm courage could do. Because he had fought and 
 conquered, there were others spurred to noble action. 
 Some were merely amazed and astonished and pleased 
 to have something to chatter about, but a few saw a 
 glorious vision and thenceforth held a new ideal. 
 
 In our enthusiasm for Livingstone's personal quali- 
 ties and achievements we must not forget and lead 
 others to overlook, his definite, concrete achieve- 
 
DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 ments as a scientist. The results of this first period 
 of exploration alone were enormous. His data re- 
 constructed, or, rather, constructed the map of Cen- 
 tral Africa, and his contributions to national history 
 were many and genuine. 
 
 And it must be remembered that Livingstone was 
 not the man to take applause to himself, forgetting that 
 there were others who had labored to solve the riddle 
 of Africa and its peoples. Indeed, in his addresses, 
 he was eager to recall the work of those others: of 
 the resolute Captain Stubbs who had sailed up the 
 Gambia when other men were money-mad in the days 
 of the South Sea bubble; of his fellow Scot, James 
 Bruce, who had dared greatly in Abyssinia a hundred 
 years before; of Mungo Park, whose tragedy was 
 never told; of James Richardson, who explored the 
 Sahara in 1845; of the courageous Dr. Barth, who re- 
 turned like one risen from the dead. Livingstone, 
 honorable and chivalrous soul that he was, insisted 
 that others should share the honors thrust upon him. 
 
 But those honors he could not escape, little as he 
 desired them, much as he would have chosen to 
 dwell in modest retirement. The Queen wanted to 
 see and to talk with him, and did. The Royal 
 Geographical Society presented him with the Patrons' 
 Gold Medal. Admirers met at the Mansion House, 
 on February 5, 1857, and a Livingstone Testimonial 
 Fund was suggested. Before the meeting adjourned, 
 a sum of $2,200 was guaranteed, and in a few days it 
 grew to $6,000. His fellow Scots raised an equal 
 
VICTORIA FALLS AND HOME 163 
 
 sum. Private and anonymous gifts of money were 
 sent to him. But to imagine, for a moment, that 
 the praise given him and the honors accorded him 
 and the comforts offered him obhterated the mem- 
 ory of his promises made to his African friends would 
 be to mistake the quaUty of the man. Everywhere, 
 before Royal Societies and in public lectures, he 
 made it clear that his real work had only begun, that 
 his duty led him to Africa, that he had given his 
 whole life to what he believed himself most capable 
 of doing. 
 
 A writer in the Daily News interpreted the man and 
 his mission most excellently, thus: "Dr. Livingstone 
 is one of the few men whose words are reahties. 
 There is a quiet, curt energy about his statements 
 which irresistibly impresses the hearer with a con- 
 viction that he has done what he says, and that he will 
 do it again when occasion offers. There is a trans- 
 parency in the simplicity of his diction which lets us 
 see the working of his mind, as if by some process of 
 intuition. . . . There is true sublimity in Dr. 
 Livingstone's allusion to the immediate resumption 
 of the arduous task which he had been prosecuting 
 for sixteen years, and is about to return to after 
 an interval of only a few months. 'He saw it to be 
 his duty to go, and he was determined to do his duty, 
 whatever others might say about the matter.' . . . 
 It was impossible to look round upon those assemblies 
 without feehng a thrill of exultation at the thought 
 that, literally, the whole earth is full of our labors — 
 
164 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 that there is no region in which our industrial enter- 
 prise, our skill in arms, our benevolent eagerness to 
 diffuse the blessings of civilization and pure and true 
 religion, have not been displayed." The estimate of 
 Livingstone is just, but we can see in the quaint clos- 
 ing phrases of this report how far Livingstone was 
 ahead of his appreciator and of the ordinary contem- 
 porary position on the poor heathens. "Skill in 
 arms . . . blessings of civilization." One thinks 
 of the South Sea islanders. 
 
 That "only a few months " of the Daily News writer 
 was not spent in lazy contentment. His friends. 
 Sir Roderick Murchison and John Murray, the pub- 
 lisher, urged him to write his experiences, and that 
 persuasion resulted in the book, Missionary Travels. 
 But the task was little to his liking, though once 
 commenced he stuck to it tenaciously. His heart 
 was in Africa. How that promise made to his men, 
 the natives he had left between Tette and the port, 
 bore upon him, is shown in a passage in a letter writ- 
 ten to his friend, Sir Thomas Maclear, dated January 
 21, 1857: "I begin to-morrow to write my book, and 
 as I have no men waiting for me at Tette, whom I 
 promised to rejoin in April next, you will see I shall 
 have enough to do to get through my work here. 
 . . . Here they laud me till I shut my eyes for 
 only trying to do my duty. They ought to vote 
 thanks to the Boers, who set me free to discover this 
 fine new country. They were determined to shut 
 the country, and I to open it. ... I got the gold 
 medal as you predicted, and the freedom of the city 
 
\ 
 
 VICTORIA FALLS AND HOME 165 
 
 of Hamilton, which ensures me protection from the 
 payment of fees if put in prison. . . ." 
 
 The book finished, there were demands which it 
 seemed impossible to resist. The freedom of the city 
 of Hamilton had been given to him when he visited 
 his boyhood home, to find his mother Hving but his 
 father dead. The city of London had to present 
 him with a gold box, with a freedom deed enclosed. 
 Oxford University wanted him, and so did Cambridge; 
 both gave him degrees. The city of Glasgow and the 
 University there had to honor him. Edinburgh, 
 Leeds, Birmingham, Liverpool — each city accorded 
 highest honors. Then Lord Palmerston appointed 
 him Consul for the East Coast of Africa, and Lord 
 Clarendon, of the Admiralty, invited him to state his 
 desires and consider them granted. There was one 
 last function, on February 13, 1857, when the Royal 
 Society and the Royal Geographical Society begged 
 his attendance at a farewell public dinner. Three 
 hundred and fifty men notable in the world of affairs 
 and the world of science were there to honor him, and 
 the keynote was struck by Sir Roderick Murchison, 
 when, in his speech, he said that "after eighteen 
 months of laudation from all classes of his country- 
 men, and after receiving all the honors universities 
 and cities could shower on him, the man is still the 
 same honest, true-hearted David Livingstone as 
 when he issued from the wilds of Africa." Of course, 
 the man of whom he thus spoke was incapable of 
 being spoiled by praise, just as he was incapable of 
 being discouraged by hardship. In 1857 Livingstone 
 
DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 resigned from the London Missionary Society, but at 
 this time and always his relations with its officials 
 were pleasant and without strain. 
 
 So, in his forty-sixth year, when men of fiber not so 
 firm are doing Httle more than contemplating their 
 sunset days, David Livingstone, simple and uncom- 
 plicated, caring nothing for money or comforts, set 
 out on a new pilgrimage full of zest and hope. With 
 him were his wife; Oswell, the youngest child; his 
 brother, Charles Livingstone; a geologist and orni- 
 thologist; Dr. John Kirk, botanist; Mr. Francis Skead 
 of the Royal Navy, skilled as a surveyor who joined 
 the party by arrangement at Capetown, and Mr. 
 Richard Thornton, also a geologist. As part of his 
 equipment he had a steam launch, in sections — the 
 Ala Robert it was named, a boat easily capable of 
 being screwed together for service, and of being taken 
 apart again for land transportation. For its opera- 
 tion there were skilled men, and a commander. By 
 way of general instructions, each member of the ex- 
 pedition was handed a written document, signed by 
 Livingstone, emphasizing the necessity for "a well- 
 regulated and orderly household of Europeans, setting 
 an example of consistent moral conduct, treating the 
 people with kindness, teaching them to make ex- 
 periments in agriculture, relieving their wants, ex- 
 plaining the more simple arts, imparting to them 
 religious instruction as far as they are capable of re- 
 ceiving it, and inculcating peace and goodwill." 
 
 The party left Liverpool, March lo, 1858, on the 
 steamer Pearl, touched at Capetown, and dis- 
 
VICTORIA FALLS AND HOME 
 
 167 
 
 embarked on the East Coast of Africa to explore the 
 mouths of the Zambesi, in May. Mrs. Livingstone, 
 with her son, had been left at Capetown, on account 
 of her ill-health, but she went with her father, Dr. 
 Moffat, to Kolobeng. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 FIGHTING THE SLAVE TRADE 
 
 THE account of the second expedition to Africa 
 made by Livingstone is to be found in the book 
 entitled Narrative of an Expedition to the Zambesi 
 and Its Tributaries; and of the Discovery of the Lakes 
 Shirwa and Nyassa, the joint production of David 
 and Charles Livingstone. The volume, like all of 
 Livingstone's works, is packed full with information 
 useful to geographer, zoologist, botanist, geologist. 
 There are in it tales of derring-do, of adventure, of 
 humor, of native life and ways and customs; enough 
 material to last a short-story writer for a Hfetime. 
 But the salient thing that I find is his denunciation 
 of Portuguese slave-trading, and that denunciation is 
 done in no timid or spiritless way. There is a post- 
 script to the preface of the book, ringing with in- 
 criminations. Out he comes with his charge of in- 
 sincerity on the part of the Portuguese politicians, 
 bluntly as Thoreau: "The credit which I was fain to 
 award to the Lisbon statesmen for a sincere desire to 
 put an end to the slave trade is, I regret to find, 
 totally undeserved. They have employed one Mons. 
 Lacerda to try to extinguish the facts adduced by 
 me before the meeting of the British Association for 
 the Advancement of Science, at Bath, by a series of 
 
 i68' 
 
FIGHTING THE SLAVE TRADE 169 
 
 papers in the Portuguese Official Journal, and their 
 Minister for Foreign Affairs has since devoted some 
 of the funds of his government to the translation and 
 circulation of Mons. Lacerda's articles in the form 
 of a foreign tract. Nothing is more conspicuous in 
 this official document than the extreme ignorance 
 displayed of the geography of the country of which 
 they pretend that they possess not only the knowl- 
 edge, but also the dominion." 
 
 That is calHng a spade by its proper name. But 
 he knew; he had experienced; and knowledge and 
 experience had left a deep mark upon his heart. He 
 saw those he accused, not as genuine settlers intro- 
 ducing valuable institutions and inculcating proper 
 habits, but as mere money-seeking masters demorahz- 
 ing the natives. He saw them as plunderers with 
 whom the higher motives alleged were mere pretences 
 to cover the nakedness of bare spoliation. He saw 
 conquest, and extermination, and disease, and dis- 
 order. He charged the Portuguese with interdicting 
 foreign commerce and shutting out the natives from 
 any trade except that in slaves. He saw confusion as 
 the end of Portuguese domination. Mark the words 
 of the man, so bent on what he knew to be right, so 
 infinitely courageous and uncompromising. Mark 
 the matchless dignity of him when he comes to spe- 
 cific charges. 
 
 "Looking from south to north, let us glance at the 
 enormous seaboard which the Portuguese in Europe 
 endeavor to make us believe belongs to them. 
 Delagoa Bay has a small forth called Lorenzo Mar- 
 
170 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 ques, but nothing beyond the walls. At Inhambane 
 they hold a small strip of land by sufferance of the 
 natives. Sofala is in ruins and from Quilimane north- 
 ward for 690 miles they have only one small stockade, 
 protected by an armed launch in the mouth of the 
 river Angoza to prevent foreign vessels from trading 
 there. Then at Mozambique they have the little 
 island on which the fort stands, and a strip about 
 three miles long on the mainland, on which they 
 have a few farms, which are protected from hostility 
 only by paying the natives an annual tribute which 
 they call * having the blacks in their pay.' The settle- 
 ment has long been decHning in trade and importance. 
 It is garrisoned by a few hundred sickly soldiers shut 
 up in the fort, and even with a small coral island near 
 can hardly be called secure. On the island of Oibo, 
 or Iboe, an immense number of slaves are collected, 
 but there is httle trade of any kind. At Bomba Bay 
 a small fort was made, but it is very doubtful whether 
 it still exists, the attempt to form a settlement there 
 having entirely failed. They pay tribute to the 
 Zulus for the lands they cultivate on the right bank 
 of the Zambesi, and the general effect of the pretense 
 to power and obstruction to commerce is to drive the 
 independent native chiefs to the Arab dhow slave 
 trade as the only one open to them." 
 
 In that passage we have a hint of the burden 
 voluntarily shouldered by Livingstone the consul, 
 who, as missionary, had seen and shuddered at what 
 he called "the open, running sore of the world." 
 Because he loved, he hated. He was a servant of his 
 
FIGHTING THE SLAVE TRADE I7I 
 
 country's flag, but he was not going to cultivate in- 
 difference to his country's poUtical shortcomings by 
 which his own people gave moral support to the slave 
 trade by looking another way when Portugal made 
 pretense to dominion. So long as England accepted 
 Portugal's supremacy, and Portugal pursued its 
 evil courses, just so long was England wasting her 
 money in seeming to suppress the slave trade. To 
 repeat, Portugal's claim that she was taking civiliza- 
 tion to the untutored and her talk about spreading 
 Christianity and putting down cruelty and slavery 
 were mere shams. 
 
 So Livingstone wrote: "Our squadron on the East 
 Coast costs over £70,000 a year, and, by our aquies- 
 cence in the sham sovereignty of the Portuguese, we 
 effect only a partial suppression of the slave trade, and 
 none of the commercial benefits which have followed 
 direct dealing with the natives on the West Coast. A 
 new law for the abolition of slavery has been proposed 
 by the King of Portugal, but it inspires me with no 
 confidence, as no means have ever been taken to put 
 similar enactments, already passed, into execution, 
 and we can only view this as a new bid for still further 
 acquiescence in a system which perpetuates bar- 
 barism. Mons. Lacerda has unwittingly shown, by 
 his eager advocacy, that the real sentiments of his 
 employers are decidedly pro-slavery. The great 
 fact that the Americans have rid themselves of the 
 incubus of slavery, and will probably not tolerate the 
 continuance of the murderous slave trade by the 
 Portuguese nation, has done more to eUcit their 
 
172 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 king's recent speech than the opinions of the minis- 
 try." 
 
 Those quotations are long, but very much to the 
 point, as showing with what eager expectancy Living- 
 stone looked to his country as the power whose 
 mission it was to bring order into the country he had 
 opened. For it was worse than useless for him, and 
 others, to be intrepid and active in exploration if the 
 paths they made were used by those who trafficked in 
 human flesh and blood. And that was literally the 
 case, as a passage in the eleventh chapter shows: 
 "After we had passed up, however, a party of slaves, 
 belonging to the two native Portuguese who assassi- 
 nated the chief Mpangwe, and took possession of his 
 lands at Zumbo, followed on our footsteps, and, rep- 
 resenting themselves to be our 'children' bought 
 great quantities of ivory from the Bawe for a few 
 coarse beads a tusk. They also purchased ten large 
 new canoes to carry it, at the rate of six strings of 
 red or white beads, or two fathoms of calico, for each 
 canoe, and, at the same cheap rate, a number of 
 good-looking girls. . . . We had long ere this 
 become thoroughly convinced that the government 
 of Lisbon had been guilty, possibly unintentionally, 
 of double dealing. PubHc instructions, as already 
 stated, had been sent from Portugal to all the 
 officials to render us every assistance in their power, 
 but these were to be understood with considerable 
 reservation. From what we observed, it was clear 
 that, with the public orders to the officials to aid us, 
 private instructions meant only that we were to be 
 
FIGHTING THE SLAVE TRADE 
 
 watched; but where nearly everyone, from governor 
 to convict soldier, is an eager slave-trader, such 
 orders could only mean, * Keep a sharp lookout that 
 your slave trade follows as near to their heels as 
 possible.' We were now so fully convinced that, in 
 opening the country through which no Portuguese 
 durst previously pass, we were made the unwilling 
 instruments of extending the slave trade, that, had 
 we not been under obligations to return with the 
 Makololo to their own country, we should have left 
 the Zambesi and gone to the Rovuma, or to some 
 other inlet to the interior. It was with bitter sorrow 
 that we saw the good we would have done turned to 
 evil." 
 
 For while he accomplished much during the six 
 years of the second journey, while he explored the 
 river Shire, while he discovered Lake Nyassa and 
 Lake Shire, while he located a suitable port as outlet 
 for the Zambesi country, and while he proved the 
 Zambesi navigable for river steamers — achievement 
 enough, one would think, for a lifetime — yet there was 
 the poison of the slave trade, neutralizing his best 
 efforts, and to that he could not, and would not, be 
 blind; or seeing, be silent concerning it. Hence 
 the emphasis laid upon slavery as a cause of strife 
 and disorder where he, as his country's representa- 
 tive, wished to see unity and peace. He was white- 
 lipped with anger at those of his own blood and race 
 who quoted scripture in support of slavery. 
 
 For the state of the natives was very grievous, very 
 disheartening, very humiliating. The slave trade, he 
 
174 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 declared in letters private and public, was the greatest 
 obstacle to civilization and commercial progress. He 
 wanted all England to know that slave-trading was 
 not a mere matter of buying and selling, but that cer- 
 tain atrocious fellows sent out armed parties on slave- 
 hunting forays among helpless tribes, and carried the 
 victims in chains to the coast, where they were 
 shipped to the French island of Bourbon. When he 
 met a slave train his heart bled because "to liberate 
 and leave them would have done little good, as the 
 people of the surrounding villages would have seized 
 them and sold them into slavery." Everywhere 
 along the slave routes the natives were churlish and 
 suspicious and given to lying. Famine, droughts, 
 floods, fires, tribal quarrels; all were good winds for 
 the slave-trader. "One of the evils of this traffic," 
 he wrote, "is that it profits by every calamity that 
 happens in a country. The slave-trader naturally 
 reaps advantage from every disaster. ... As 
 a rule he intensifies hatreds, and aggravates wars 
 between the tribes, because the more they fight and 
 vanquish each other, the richer his harvest becomes. 
 Where slaving and cattle are unknown, the people 
 live in peace." Then there was the unspeakable 
 Mariano, so infamous as to have become famous; he 
 is told of more than once. His trail was everywhere, 
 and everywhere blood-bespattered. He and his 
 men would rape, burn, slay, destroy utterly hamlets 
 and villages, lay waste valleys, and rob those too old 
 for the slave market. Once Livingstone and his 
 party came upon a raided hamlet in w^hich the sur- 
 
FIGHTING THE SLAVE TRADE 
 
 vivors had been left without food, the very crops 
 having been destroyed with exquisite fiendishness. 
 "The women were in the fields collecting insects, 
 roots, wild fruits, and whatever could be eaten, in 
 order to save their lives, if possible, till the next 
 crop should be ripe. Two canoes passed us, that had 
 been robbed by Mariano's band of everything they 
 had in them; the owners were gathering palm nuts 
 for their subsistence. They wore palm-leaf aprons, 
 as the robbers had stripped them of their clothing 
 and ornaments. Dead bodies floated past us daily, 
 and in the morning the paddles had to be cleared of 
 corpses, caught by the floats during the night. For 
 scores of miles the entire population of the valley was 
 swept by this scourge Mariano, who is again, as he 
 was before, the great Portuguese slave agent. It 
 made the heart ache to see the widespread desolation; 
 the river banks, once so populous, all silent; the 
 villages all burned down, and an oppressive stillness 
 reigning everywhere where formerly crowds of eager 
 sellers appeared with the various products of their 
 industry. Here and there might be seen on the bank 
 a small, dreary, deserted shed, where had sat, day 
 after day, a starving fisherman, until the rising waters 
 drove the fish from their wonted haunts and left him 
 to die. Tingane had been defeated; his people had 
 been killed, kidnapped, and forced to flee from their 
 villages. There were a few wretched survivors in a 
 village above the Rue; but the majority of the popu- 
 lation was dead. The sight and smell of dead bodies 
 was everywhere. Many skeletons lay beside the 
 
176 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 path, where in their weakness they had fallen and 
 expired. Ghastly living forms of boys and girls, 
 with dull, dead eyes, were crouching beside some of 
 the huts. A few more miserable days of their terrible 
 hunger, and they would be with the dead." So 
 wrought the slave-trader. The paths he took were 
 in part those opened by Livingstone, and the people 
 upon whom the slave-trader came like a fiend from 
 hell were the simple, generous folk whose lives Liv- 
 ingstone had hoped, in time, to make happier. 
 
 So the keynote of the second expedition is sounded. / 
 There are those who have passed somewhat lightly 
 over the record of the second journey, holding that 
 the Zambesi tour was not as important in discoveries 
 as the first. We forget that there were important 
 contributions to geographical and other sciences, and 
 that no man could attain as much in six years as in 
 sixteen. Some again, who could not forgive Living- 
 stone for resigning from the Missionary Society, have 
 passed over his second trip as being of no religious 
 value, forgetting, or not knowing, that the man's eye 
 and heart were fixed on a wider range of activity, and 
 ignorant of the fact that he was training the natives C I 
 to usefulness, to order, to a finer life. All of these 
 forget that Livingstone's work was "the death blow 
 to the slave trade" in Africa. 
 
 But passing to the exploration work of that second 
 expedition, as soon as the Ma Robert had been fitted , 1 
 and launched, the four channels by which the Zam- \ 
 besi fell into the sea were examined and charted and 
 measured. The party sailed up the Kongone branch 
 
FIGHTING THE SLAVE TRADE I77 
 
 for twenty miles, in the Pearl, and found themselves 
 in a broad plain of great agricultural promise, but 
 terribly malarial. As the Pearl could go no farther, 
 because of the shallow water, there was considerable 
 activity during long hours, and without much rest, 
 transferring cargo and necessities by launch and pin- 
 nace to Sienna, Livingstone's base. And, lo and be- 
 hold! suddenly among the white men of the ship 
 there were reckless assertions that they were being 
 made to slave, there were generalizations about free 
 men and a free country, there was wholesale abuse of 
 bosses and masters, something indeed very much like 
 a strike, or an incipient mutiny. It was, they con- 
 sidered, all very well to talk of fever, and the neces- 
 sity for the Pearl to clear for Bomba Bay, but they 
 wanted Sunday off and a full hour for meals. So 
 the twelve natives wondered much and worked the 
 harder, while the leaders of the objectors withdrew 
 to a little island for discussion, where, instead of 
 achieving economic perfection, some of them took 
 fever. 
 
 Presently the Ma Robert started for Tette, and be- 
 fore she had gone a couple of knots, the men were 
 ironic. She took four hours to make steam and con- 
 sumed immense quantities of wood, and she made 
 such labor of her work that the attendant canoes 
 shot ahead of her. Moreover, she was noisy, she 
 leaked, she made hard work of a little current, she 
 was worse than cumbersome in weedy stretches of 
 water, and if a start was to be made at six, she had 
 to be fired up at two in the morning. So the craft 
 
178 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 was renamed Asthmatic. Livingstone was mildly 
 sarcastic about the man who had sold her " at a sacri- 
 fice for love of the cause," and as soon as opportunity 
 permitted, asked his government to send out a more 
 serviceable ship, so that presently he had the Pioneer. 
 But that is anticipating. 
 
 Livingstone and his party reached Tette on 
 September 8, 1858, and the news of his coming had 
 preceded him as if broadcast from a radio station. 
 His Makololo friends were waiting; but not all, for 
 thirty had died from smallpox, and six of adventur- 
 ous soul had gone far afield, to astonish the natives 
 with their dancing, and had been murdered by an 
 enemy chief named Bonga, or Tigercat. 
 
 It is easy to imagine that first day's talk, and the 
 enjoyment of it: reminiscences with all pains for- 
 gotten, remembrances of Sekwebu and his true love 
 and loyalty, the hearing of Livingstone's story of 
 England, which they would regard as a dramatic 
 kind of thing; references to Linyanti, to which they 
 expected to go as soon as possible, led by Livingstone. 
 He told them that he would keep his promise to them 
 and would take them home, but first there were 
 duties to be done in the way of exploration. He had 
 heard of lakes never seen by white men, of a people 
 beyond one of those lakes who had never seen white 
 men, and much more. If the Makololo wanted to 
 go with him, well and good. If not, he would return 
 to Tette and take them, as he had promised, to 
 Linyanti and King Sekeletu. And, of course, the 
 Makololo were willing to go, more than willing, even 
 
FIGHTING THE SLAVE TRADE 
 
 179 
 
 anxious, even regarding Livingstone with an amused 
 surprise when he spoke of possible hardships and 
 dangers. The intolerable thing would have been his 
 leaving them behind. 
 
 There were two trips up the river Shire, with a 
 thorough investigation of the country watered by it; 
 the discovery of Lake Shirwa on April 18, 1859, a 
 sheet of brackish water from 60 to 80 miles long and 
 20 wide; then a return to Tette on June 23, 1859, 
 the purpose of reprovisioning and patching up the 
 yisthmatic. 
 
 It was while on the first up-river trip that a Tette 
 slave told of "a strange race of men whom he had 
 seen in the interior; they were only three feet high, 
 and had horns growing out of their heads; they lived 
 in a large town and had plenty of food." But the 
 Makololo laughed at the tale, and the explorers dis- 
 believed it. It remained for Stanley, in 1876, to con- 
 firm, in large part, the native's story.* But more 
 curious than the tale of the dwarfs was the fact that, 
 in the mountainous country near Lake Shirwa, their 
 guides were often harmless insane natives. "These 
 poor fellows sympathized with the explorers, probably 
 in the belief that they belonged to their own class; 
 and, uninfluenced by the general opinion of their 
 countrymen, they really pitied, and took kindly to 
 the strangers, and often guided them faithfully from 
 place to place, when no sane man could be hired 
 for love or money." 
 
 A third trip up the river Shire was commenced in 
 
 * Through the Dark Continent, Vol. II. 
 
i8o 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 the middle of August, 1859, and the main purpose of 
 it was to locate the great lake of which they had 
 heard, Nyassa. On August 28, 1859, ^^^Y struck 
 inland, a party of the four whites, thirty-six Makololo, 
 and two guides. For nineteen days they tramped 
 up mountain and down mountain, skirting the Kirk 
 Range. They were pleasantly greeted and enter- 
 tained by the natives everywhere, and found them to 
 be a quiet people, given to agriculture and the work- 
 ing of iron into spears and hooks and needles. At 
 noon, on the sixteenth day of September, they sighted 
 the lake, an inland sea 210 miles long and 26 miles 
 wide, its shores a series of vast rich green plains 
 thickly populated. It seemed to Livingstone a 
 place ideally suited for colonization, and he stood 
 aghast when he saw signs of the slave-traders' trail 
 there. The barbarism of Europeans in that fair 
 land made him shiver in his soul. But he dreamed 
 ardent dreams of better things. He wrote: "I have 
 a strong desire to commence a system of coloniza- 
 tion among the honest poor. I would give £2,000 or 
 £3,000 for the purpose. Colonization from such a 
 country as ours ought to be one of hope, not of de- 
 spair. It ought not to be looked on as the last shift 
 a family can come to, but the performance of an im- 
 perative duty to our blood, our country, our religion, 
 and to human-kind. . . . In no part of the world 
 I have been in does the prospect seem so inviting and 
 promise so much influence." Then his dreams and 
 schemes and designs were suddenly suspended, and 
 he mused awhile over other possibiUties. . . . 
 
FIGHTING THE SLAVE TRADE l8l 
 
 Why not a small war vessel on the lake? It vi^as 
 England's by right of discovery, that inland sea, and 
 "by judicious operations . . . one small vessel 
 would have decidedly more influence, and do more 
 good in suppressing the slave trade, than half a dozen 
 men-of-war on the ocean." Later, he proposed the 
 plan in a tentative way to officers of the navy, and 
 they agreed with him. 
 
 It was only by a few weeks that Livingstone found 
 the lake before Dr. Roscher, a German explorer. 
 Roscher, who saw it on November 19, 1859, mur- 
 dered by natives who suspected him of being the 
 forerunner of slave-dealers, so his adventures are not 
 known, except as a patch here and another there. 
 
 At last came the time for the long tramp to 
 Linyanti, in fulfillment of the promise that the 
 Makololo would be taken home to their own land. 
 But, in some cases, natural nobility had become cor- 
 rupted. There were those who had contracted the 
 moral malaria of a slave atmosphere, so were shiftless 
 and improvident. Some spoke of the Linyanti 
 country with affection, but were too indolent to face 
 the journey. So the degenerated were left behind, for 
 there were no persuasions, and at two on the after- 
 noon of May 15th, the pilgrimage started. 
 
 Then was Livingstone in his glory, a leader of a 
 crusade. Then were the Makololo free with their 
 leader of unforgotten long marches. Charles Living- 
 stone's account of how everything was done in good 
 order is as good as romance; how the night's camp 
 was with one party in front, the donkeys on the right, 
 
l82 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 the Batoka party on the left, the Tette men in the 
 rear; how, on hahing at evening, certain men set to 
 work to make the beds of branches and twigs; how 
 some unloaded and some prepared camp; how the 
 arms were piled in such a spot and the fires lit in 
 such wise and fashion; how the charge of the fire for 
 cooking was given to Matonga; how, at evening, after 
 cooking and eating were over, there was singing or 
 talking far into the night. "At times animated 
 political discussions sprang up, and the amount of 
 eloquence expended on these occasions is amusing," 
 writes Charles Livingstone. "The whole camp is 
 aroused, and the men shout about to one another 
 from the different fires; while some, whose tongues 
 are never heard on any other subject, burst into 
 impassioned speech." And, as with more civiHzed 
 men, the shortcomings of governors formed the most 
 fruitful theme. "We could govern ourselves better, 
 they cry, so what is the use of chiefs at all? They do 
 not work. The chief is fat and has plenty of wives, 
 while we who do the hard work have hunger, only one 
 wife or more Ukely none." Unterrified JefFersonian 
 democrats were many in the jungle. 
 
 In fact, as Charles Livingstone discovered with an 
 amused surprise, man in the jungle was in many re- 
 spects very much like man in the town — some of 
 them radical and some of them highly conservative, 
 some of them considering things with reference to the 
 ideal and some of them looking at things with an eye 
 to practical consequences, some of them all for ma- 
 terial gain and some of them choosing to live in a 
 
FIGHTING THE SLAVE TRADE 183 
 
 fairyland of poetry. An amusing instance of the 
 last is given by Charles Livingstone, an instance valu- 
 able to those who suppose folklore and folk songs to 
 be something springing spontaneously from a group, 
 not knowing that there have been in all times and in 
 all places Widsiths and Rutebeufs and Taillefers and 
 men of Gaspe, who sang because songs grew in 
 their hearts. I copy the passage, while a vision of 
 the wandering minstrel is in my mind's eye, for I have 
 seen many of the kind. "Men of remarkable ability 
 have risen up among the Africans from time to time 
 . . . but the total absence of Hterature leads 
 to the loss of all former experience. . . . They 
 have their minstrels. . . . One of these, and 
 apparently a genuine poet, attached himself to our 
 party for several days, and whenever we halted, sang 
 our praises to the villagers in smooth and harmonious 
 numbers. It was a sort of blank verse, and each line 
 consisted of five syllables. The song was short when 
 it first began, but each day he picked up more in- 
 formation about us, and added to the poem until our 
 praises became an ode of respectable length. . . . 
 Another . . . belonged to the Batoka of our 
 own party. Every evening, while the others were 
 cooking, talking, or sleeping, he rehearsed his songs, 
 containing a history of everything he had seen in the 
 land of the white men, and on the way back. In 
 composing, extempore, any new piece, he halted 
 not, but eked out the measure with a peculiar musical 
 sound meaning nothing at all. He accompanied his 
 recitations on the sansa, an instrument [with] nine 
 
DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 iron keys which are played with the thumbs. . . . 
 Persons of a musical turn, if too poor to buy a sansa, 
 may be seen playing vigorously on an instrument made 
 with a number of corn stalks sewn together. . . , " 
 
 At Victoria Falls there were sight-seeing, and meas- 
 uring, and charting; then, suddenly as a meteor 
 falls into the world's air, another man's adventures 
 shot into theirs. For a native told the story of a 
 white man who was held in captivity by a chief named 
 Mashotlane, and Mashotlane was a warrior of the 
 old school, who had fought under Sebituane and set 
 no exaggerated estimate on the value of human life. 
 Unconquerable kingship had been the native's ideal, 
 and to that ideal he continued to hold fast. So mat- 
 ters called for swift action on Livingstone's part, 
 and he looked into the affair. 
 
 The chief's prisoner turned out to be a Natal 
 EngHshman, a Mr. Baldwin, one of those lone 
 wanderers who are to be heard of in any uncharted 
 land. Alone, without outfit except a wagon which 
 he left at a point two days' march away, living on the 
 country as he went, with nothing but a pocket com- 
 pass to guide him, he had tramped those many miles, 
 eager to see the famous falls. And he had seen them 
 to his heart's content, the second white man to do so. 
 Then, heading home again, a trivial accident coupled 
 with a drawing of illogical conclusions on the part of 
 the chief came near to ending him. For, wishing to 
 cross the river and having no boat, he had hailed a 
 crew of natives who were canoeing. They ferried 
 him, but only part of the way, because the English- 
 
FIGHTING THE SLAVE TRADE 185 
 
 man, having passed the swiftest part of the current, 
 leaped overboard to swim the rest of the distance. 
 Possibly he had seen signs of heated controversy 
 among the boatmen on the subject of rates of fare. 
 However, the natives resented that unphilosophic 
 hastiness and so carried their passenger to their 
 chief, and there white man and native became tangled 
 in a coil. Mashotlane decided that the EngHshman 
 should pay a fine, but showed a deplorable unwilling- 
 ness to allow him out of his sight; nor could the Eng- 
 lishman ransom himself without going to his wagon. 
 So there was friction, and in the middle of it Living- 
 stone's party came. 
 
 Matters were soon righted after Livingstone had 
 tackled the chief in a businesslike way, and the chief 
 lightly explained away his action as perfectly consist- 
 ent. "If the white man had been devoured by one 
 of the crocodiles, then the English would have 
 blamed me for his death. He nearly inflicted a great 
 injury on us, therefore he had to pay a fine," he said, 
 and there was every evidence that the chief had 
 grappled sincerely with his problem. On such false 
 generalizations nations have fallen before now. 
 
 The incident led them to touch another adventure, 
 or rather to hear of one. The tale was told by Bald- 
 win. It was that of a missionary outfit sent by the 
 \/ London Missionary Society to Linyanti, following Liv- 
 ingstone's opening trail. In the Helmore party were 
 nine Europeans and thirteen natives from the south, 
 all of them inexperienced and probably expecting 
 to do at a stroke what Livingstone had done after a 
 
DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 dozen years of hard apprentice work. The project 
 had probably been undertaken without much con- 
 sideration. At a well in the desert Baldwin found 
 the party stranded, suffering from hunger, unable to 
 hunt for themselves, fear-driven. The doughty 
 adventurerer did what he could, hunting for them and 
 leaving them with meat enough to carry them to 
 Linyanti, then, having seen them out of their miser- 
 able mess, went his way. The missionary party 
 reached Linyanti in time, but it was in such a state 
 of weakness and exhaustion as to be easily taken with 
 the fever. Soon five out of the nine Europeans had 
 died, and several of the natives of the party were 
 sick with the fever. The natives accused the Mako- 
 lolo of poisoning them, and those that were hale, 
 of being ready to take up warfare in revenge. So the 
 mission failed utterly, and the survivors went south, 
 a broken body. 
 
 It was an example of the misguided efforts of well- 
 meaning but mistaken men. There were enthusiasm, 
 energy, zeal, labor in abundance, all flung into a cause 
 — but there was not knowledge, there was not ex- 
 perience, there was not that understanding which 
 Livingstone always insisted was the most important 
 thing of all. The man in charge of the mission knew 
 nothing of the native language, therefore had no in- 
 fluence, and, what was worse, among the party there 
 was no one with the slightest knowledge of medicine. 
 If we imagine a Sikh, full of prophetic dignity and im- 
 passioned devotion, going to Chicago to undertake 
 the stupendous task of converting Americans to a 
 
FIGHTING THE SLAVE TRADE 187 
 
 belief in the Adi-Granth, we shall have some shght 
 idea of the picture presented to the Makololo people 
 at the coming of the missionaries. But Livingstone's 
 saner attitude would be like that of a Sikh, who, be- 
 fore attempting to talk to Americans about the 
 Tat tvam asi, insisted that a knowledge of American 
 geography, of American ways and customs, of the 
 language, of ideals of citizenship, of morals, of 
 psychological workings, of philosophical positions, 
 and of much more, was necessary. He saw necessities 
 with a degree of sharpness and clearness not under- 
 stood by his fellows of the Missionary Society. He 
 saw things as they were, and knew them to be of great 
 breadth and great depth and great complexity, and 
 had the members of the Missionary Society listened 
 to him, had they been guided by him, such disasters 
 as that of Helmore at Linyanti might have been pre- 
 vented and the policy of more ordered march and 
 gradual development would have left the Missionary 
 Society the stronger. And what was very much to 
 the point, Livingstone, after years of patient trial 
 and experiment, had found what was an almost sure 
 specific for the fever. The carefully prepared pill, 
 still in use and known as "Livingstone pills," had 
 been found very efficacious by his traveling com- 
 panions. But unsophisticated men thought that 
 they could enter new tropic lands without as much 
 as a medicine chest. 
 
 Drawing near Linyanti, Livingstone heard strange 
 tales. Possession of the scepter had not sobered 
 Sekeletu, and the chivalrous traditions of his father 
 
DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 had been abandoned. He had taken to the spear, 
 and tried to rule with feeble aggressiveness. So the 
 people had scattered. There had been a severe 
 drought, too, and the country was suflFering grievously, 
 A tribe had revolted against Sekeletu's rule, and 
 things looked ugly. As for Sekeletu himself, he was 
 said to have so changed that no one who had known 
 him two years before could recognize him. His 
 fingers had become like eagle's claws, and his face 
 was swollen and horrible to see; so some said that he 
 was not Sekeletu, but some creature bewitched and 
 strangely altered — 
 
 "A fellow by the hand of Nature marked 
 Quoted and signed to do a deed of shame." 
 
 Almost everyone who talked of the chief spoke of 
 sorcery. But Livingstone suspected leprosy, and, 
 seeing him at his camp, a hundred and twenty miles ^ 
 from Linyanti, found his diagnosis correct. The 
 luckless chief was sitting in a covered wagon, around 
 which a high wall of close-set reeds had been grown, 
 and an old medicine woman was attending him. 
 Nor did Livingstone judge it wise to interfere, because 
 of native suspicion, and because the woman "had 
 not given him up yet, but would try for another 
 month; if he was not cured by that time then she 
 would hand him over to the white doctors." 
 
 Of the chief, Livingstone wrote that he had the 
 quiet, unassuming manners of his father; he spoke 
 distinctly, in a low, pleasing voice, and was quite 
 
FIGHTING THE SLAVE TRADE 189 
 
 sensible except that he firmly believed himself the 
 subject of serpent sorceries. 
 
 The worry and disorganization due to the chief's 
 change of policy had not affected the ways of the 
 Makololo greatly. They were still a truthful and 
 cleanly people, strong and self-dependent, of sound 
 moral sense and sympathy, of clean justice and high 
 honor. A mystical note was sounded, when the 
 Linyanti herald, at dawn, greeted Livingstone's 
 party with his song of welcome, thus : 
 
 "I have dreamed! 
 I have dreamed! 
 I have dreamed! 
 Thou Mosale, 
 Thou Pekonyane. 
 My lords all. 
 Be not faint-hearted. 
 Nor let your hearts be sore. 
 Believe the words of Monare* 
 His heart is white as milk 
 To all Makololo. 
 I dreamed that he was coming, 
 And that the tribe would Hve, 
 If to God you prayed 
 And heeded Monare's words." 
 
 Then there was the sense of responsibility, more 
 markedly developed in the Makololo than in many 
 white races. Sekeletu, on first meeting Livingstone, 
 
 *Livingstone. 
 
190 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 had told him that there were two packages of mail 
 from Kuruman, which had been delivered at Linyanti 
 some time before. Noting the explorer's modified 
 eagerness, he sent a courier, who did the round trip of 
 two hundred and forty miles within seven days, but 
 who was reluctantly forced to leave one of the 
 packages on account of its weight. 
 
 At Linyanti, Livingstone found his wagon, which 
 he had left seven years before, the woodwork much 
 the worse because of white ants, but the contents 
 as he had left them, intact and unmeddled with. A 
 knowledge of medicine might have saved the ill-fated 
 missionary party that had perished, for some of its 
 members had died no more than a hundred yards 
 from the wagon which contained a very complete 
 set of medicines. 
 
 So David Livingstone had fulfilled his promise in 
 seeing his Makololo friends to their native land. He 
 had seen some effects of his work, and he had seen 
 the new and disquieting feature of Sekeletu's policy 
 of overmastery, but to mend that was impossible, 
 and, being a man of head as well as heart, he knew the 
 futility of engaging in tribal politics. Having done 
 all that was possible, he turned east again, leaving on 
 September 17, i860. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 SORROW AND APPARENT DEFEAT 
 
 THE journey back to Tette was a distinguished 
 one in the way of speed, for they reached there 
 on November 21st. But there was an unlucky inci- 
 dent on the Kebrabasa Rapids, for one of the canoes 
 was overset and Dr. Kirk's notes were lost. And at 
 Tette, it was clear that the old Asthmatic was on her 
 last trip. "Our engineer has been doctoring her 
 bottom with fat and patches, and pronounces it safe 
 to go down the river slowly. Every day a new leak 
 breaks out, and he is in, plastering and scoring, the 
 pump going constantly. I never expected to find her 
 afloat, but the engineer (while at Tette) had nothing 
 else to do, and it saves us from buying dear canoes 
 from the Portuguese." So runs the Journal. Five 
 days before Christmas the craft stuck on a sand bank, 
 her hold filled rapidly, and she had to be abandoned. 
 
 So they made their way by canoe to Kongone, and 
 on the last day of the year the Pioneer, the new boat 
 sent for river service from England at Livingstone's 
 request, came to port. With her were two English 
 cruisers, carrying a mission party of six Englishmen 
 and five colored men in charge of Bishop Mackenzie. 
 It was the Oxford and Cambridge mission to the 
 tribes on the Shire and Lake Nyassa, and Livingstone 
 
 191 
 
192 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 was embarrassed v^ith his newly acquired riches. 
 "It was a puzzle to know what to do with so many 
 men," is the way he puts it. Part of that puzzle 
 came from the fact that, as matters stood, the mission 
 would land its men in the most unhealthy season; 
 and, what was worse, profiteers had been at work, for 
 the fever pills were useless and "must have been made 
 from dirt, not drugs." So Livingstone found himself 
 with additional burdens. In the end, he persuaded 
 the bishop to accompany him to Johanna where the 
 superfluous men were to be left with the English con- 
 sul for a while. Nor was the Pioneer altogether satis- 
 factory for river work, as she drew some five feet and 
 the safe maximum draught for a useful boat was three 
 feet. However, the bishop had to know something of 
 the country, so there were river expeditions, with 
 tremendous work at sand bars and portages, on the 
 upper Shire. 
 
 And soon the bishop saw something of the dark 
 side of the African picture, and seeing, understood 
 much of the humanizing work which Livingstone 
 knew to be a paramount duty. The story is a fine in- 
 stance of the warlike fire which consumed the explorer 
 behind the mask of his unusual silence: "... We 
 halted at the village of our old friend Mbame, to 
 obtain new carriers, because Chibisa's men, never 
 before having been hired, and not yet having learned 
 to trust us, did not choose to go further. After rest- 
 ing a little, Mbame told us that a slave party on its 
 way to Tette would presently pass through his 
 village." Then there were questions as to the wis- 
 
SORROW AND APPARENT DEFEAT I93 
 
 dom or otherwise of interference, because news of 
 such might mean retaliation on the part of the Portu- 
 guese authorities. But Livingstone was thoroughly 
 roused to anger, remembering that his path opening 
 had been used to give an impetus to slave-dealing, 
 and he felt a responsibility. "A few minutes after 
 Mbame had spoken . . . the slave party, a long 
 line of manacled men, women, and children, came 
 . . . round the hill and into the valley. . . . 
 The black drivers, armed with muskets, and bedecked 
 with various articles of finery, marched jauntily in 
 the front, middle, and rear of the Hne; some of them 
 blowing exultant notes out of long tin horns. They 
 seemed to feel that they were doing a very noble 
 thing, and might proudly march with an air of 
 triumph; but the instant the fellows caught a glimpse 
 of the English, they darted off like mad into the forest 
 — so fast, indeed, that we caught but a glimpse of 
 their red caps and the soles of their feet. The chief 
 of the party alone remained; and he, from being in 
 front, had his hand lightly grasped by a Makololo! 
 He proved to be . . . for some time our own 
 attendant [while at Tette]. On asking him how he 
 obtained these captives, he replied he had bought 
 them; but on our inquiring of the people themselves, 
 all, save four, said they had been captured in war. 
 While this inquiry was going on, he bolted, too. The 
 captives knelt down, and, in their way of expressing 
 thanks, clapped their hands with great energy. They 
 were thus left entirely on our hands, and knives were 
 soon busy at work, cutting the women and children 
 
194 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 loose. It was more difficult to cut the men adrift, as 
 each had his neck in the fork of a stout stick, six or 
 seven feet long, and kept in by an iron rod which was 
 riveted at both ends across the throat. With a 
 saw, luckily in the bishop's baggage, one by one the 
 men were sawn out into freedom. The women, on 
 being told to take the meal they were carrying and 
 cook breakfast for themselves and the children, 
 seemed to consider the news too good to be true; but, 
 after a httle coaxing, went at it with alacrity, and 
 made a capital fire by which to boil their pots with the 
 slave sticks and bonds. . . . Many were mere 
 children about five years of age and under. . . . 
 Two of the women had been shot the day before for 
 attempting to untie the thongs. This, the rest were 
 told, was to prevent them from attempting to escape. 
 One woman had her infant's brains knocked out be- 
 cause she could not carry her load and it; and a man 
 was dispatched with an ax because he had broken 
 down with fatigue. . . . The bishop was not 
 present at this scene, having gone to bathe in a little 
 stream below the village; but on his return he warmly 
 approved of what had been done. . . . Logic is 
 out of place when the question with a true-hearted 
 man is whether his brother man is to be saved or not. 
 Eighty-four, chiefly women and children, were liber- 
 ated; and on being told that they were free, and 
 might go where they pleased, or remain with us,^they 
 chose to stay; and the bishop wisely attached them to 
 his Mission to be educated as members of a Christian 
 family. ..." 5 
 
SORROW AND APPARENT DEFEAT I95 
 
 Livingstone's religion was not of the sort to forbid 
 him to stir a finger for right and fair play. He was 
 anxious enough to avoid collisions, as all true men 
 are, but there were evils which cried aloud for the 
 sword. After that, for a time the party seemed to 
 drift toward defiance. Eight more slaves were re- 
 leased at a near-by hamlet. The news of their mili- 
 tancy grew, and at the tale of their approach, traders 
 with a hundred slaves fled to hiding, hotly followed 
 by Dr. Kirk and four Makololo. A little later there 
 was a releasing of six more slaves, and a couple of 
 traders were captured and detained, during a whole 
 night, by way of preventing the carrying of news. 
 The next day fifty more slaves were set free, and, 
 being naked, were clothed by their rescuers. Nor 
 was their day of militancy done. For being near the 
 place where two tribes were at war, the Ajawa and the 
 Manganja, both having been inflamed by slavers, the 
 Ajawa fired on the exploring party with poisoned 
 arrows, and in self-defense, Livingstone's men fired 
 on the natives, though without attempting to do more 
 than frighten them. 
 
 Pondering all that, the bishop debated whether it 
 would not be better for him, as head of the newly 
 established mission, to take sides with the Manganja, 
 against the Ajawa. But Livingstone opposed any 
 participation in native quarrels. In his ripened ex- 
 perience, he knew that when all seemed to have been 
 said, less than half was said, and there were compli- 
 cations reaching far back, and other complications 
 stretching wide. So the bishop was persuaded by 
 
196 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 Livingstone, and, while learning the lay of the coun- 
 try, applied himself diligently to a study of the native 
 dialects. In the month of August, bishop and ex- 
 plorer parted, the former comfortably installed on a 
 healthy and pleasant spot at Magomero; the latter 
 headed for Lake Nyassa. 
 
 The Livingstone party had a tremendously inter- 
 esting time on Lake Nyassa, in their sailboat, which 
 had been carried overland by willing natives. We 
 have, reading the Journals, a vision of the low line of 
 coast, the cleanness of a new country, a glorious bird 
 world, little sandy bays lined with curious people, 
 moonlight nights all silver cool, waters lapping musi- 
 cally on the boat's black bows. We see Livingstone, 
 lean and agile as a harrier, tanned to the Hps, his 
 eyes twinkhng with inward joy. Always he wears 
 that little peaked cap with the gold band, a head 
 covering ill-adapted, one would think, for a sub- 
 tropical climate. For hours on end he is observantly 
 silent, then his infinitely inexhaustible humor bubbles 
 forth. Again he is hard and enigmatical, a man 
 alone on a plane of which the others know nothing 
 lost in his vision of glorious achievement. 
 
 There were adventures with tattooed natives, 
 some who were of open-handed hospitahty; some, 
 touched by the slave-trade virus, who robbed them. 
 They passed a place of midges, so many whirling 
 clouds of them that it was as if a mist had settled on 
 the waters. The primitive folk in that place had 
 turned the pests to account, catching the little gnats 
 and making cakes of them. In an unexpected place 
 
SORROW AND APPARENT DEFEAT I97 
 
 they saw well-cared-for burying grounds with Httle 
 paths between the graves, and every evidence that 
 the bodies had been buried with the head toward the 
 north.* They saw fearful evidences of the slave 
 trade, such evidence in the way of skeletons that 
 Livingstone came to the startling conclusion that for 
 every slave captured at least four native Uves were 
 spilled. And in one place there was a tribe in full 
 career toward all the problems of privilege and land 
 tenure and taxation and trusts, for a chief had a fish- 
 ing monopoly, with metes and bounds set to part of 
 the lake, and no one had arisen to compel him to 
 yield his privilege. 
 
 There were four days in which Livingstone, with a 
 couple of Makololo, was absent from the boat party, 
 giving his friends great concern. The three took a 
 land trip and ran into a party of Zulus who blustered 
 tremendously, commanding the white man to sit in 
 the sun while they themselves sat in the shade. But 
 with that strange dispassionateness of his, Living- 
 stone took the situation in hand, saying: "If you sit 
 in the shade, so will we," and made himself com- 
 fortable. At that, the Zulus began a terror-inspiring 
 shield rattling which was one of their habits when 
 dealing with an enemy. But, said Livingstone to 
 them: "It is not the first time we have heard shields 
 rattled." Evidently, by a kind of intuitive process, 
 
 *0n the sense of polarity among natives, I was corresponoing with my 
 friend W. H. Hudson at the time of his death. The naturaHst of La Plata 
 had heard of South American tribes, the members of which always slung 
 their hammocks due north and south, and buried their dead with the 
 heads pointing northward, and was tremendously interested. 
 
 1 
 
198 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 the Zulus read the white man's determination and 
 reahzed that all their array of paraphernalia and 
 ritual was of no avail. Without as much as a frown 
 or a threatening word, Livingstone had gained 
 ascendancy. 
 
 The exploration of the lake took twenty-five days, 
 from September 2 to September 27, 1861, and the 
 work being thoroughly and satisfactorily done, the 
 party made a way to the coast, reaching the Great 
 Luabo mouth of the Zambesi a few days before the 
 arrival of the English cruiser Gorgon. Seeing it on 
 the horizon, Livingstone in the Pioneer steamed out 
 to meet the ship and: 
 
 "I have steamboat in the brig," signaled the 
 Gorgon, referring to the twenty-four sections of the 
 Lady Nyassa, especially designed for lake service. 
 
 "Welcome news," flashed back Livingstone. 
 
 "Your wife aboard," was the next signal. 
 
 "Accept my best thanks," went from the Pioneer. 
 
 But on the heels of that good news came a tale of 
 calamity, told by native to native, carried from the 
 mission established by Livingstone for Bishop Mac- 
 kenzie. The bishop had sent out an exploring party 
 from the mission, and the party was attacked, some 
 escaping, but others being captured by tribes incensed 
 and made suspicious by slave-raiders. The militant 
 missionaries rescued the prisoners and burned the 
 village by way of punitive measures. Returning, 
 "wet, weary, and tormented by mosquitoes, they lay 
 in thetcanoe till morning dawned, and then proceeded 
 to Malo, an island at the mouth of the Rue, where 
 
SORROW AND APPARENT DEFEAT I99 
 
 the bishop was at once seized by fever." The Mako- 
 lolo, "day by day for three weeks . . . remained 
 beside his mat on the floor, till, without medicine or 
 even proper food, he died. They dug his grave on 
 the edge of the deep dark forest where the natives 
 buried their dead. Mr. Burrup, himself far gone with 
 dysentery, staggered from the hut, and, as in the 
 dusk of evening they committed the bishop's body 
 to the grave, repeated from memory portions of our 
 beautiful service for the Burial of the Dead. . . . 
 The Makololo then took Mr. Burrup up in the canoe 
 as far as they could go, and, making a Htter of 
 branches, carried him themselves, or got others to 
 carry him, all the way back to his countrymen at 
 Magomero. They hurried him on lest he should die 
 on their hands, and blame be attached to them. 
 Soon after his return, he expired from the disease 
 which was on him when he started." 
 
 So the mission was wrecked, and tongues in Eng- 
 land wagged freely in denunciation of what they 
 called missions with a sword, some who knew nothing 
 at all about it declaring that "the warlike measures 
 of the mission were the consequences of following Dr. 
 Livingstone's advice." And Livingstone, the heart 
 of flame, the man all self-surrender, this Livingstone 
 who had advised the bishop to refrain from participa- 
 tion in native disputes and had himself done so — this 
 David Livingstone capable of friendship with a sword, 
 like a true knight flung his challenge to those at home 
 and elsewhere, declaring that he, too, would have 
 acted as did the bishop, in similar case, so that fault- 
 
2(X) 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 finders who sat in armchair ease, having Livingstone's 
 words, could blame not the dead but the living. "I 
 shall not swerve a hair's breadth from my work while 
 life is spared," he wrote to the Bishop of Capetown. 
 
 And then came this, as reported by Charles Living- 
 stone: "During unhealthy April, the fever was more 
 severe in Shupanga and Mazaro than usual. We 
 had several cases on board; they were quickly cured, 
 but, from our being in the delta, as quickly returned. 
 About the middle of the month Mrs. Livingstone was 
 prostrated by this disease; and it was accompanied by 
 obstinate vomiting. Nothing is yet known that can 
 allay this distressing symptom, which of course 
 renders medicine of no avail, as it is instantly re- 
 jected. She received whatever medical aid could be 
 rendered from Dr. Kirk, but became unconscious, and 
 her eyes were closed in the sleep of death as the sun 
 set on the Christian Sabbath, the 27th of April, 1862. 
 A coffin was made during the night, a grave was dug 
 next day under the branches of the great baobab tree, 
 and with sympathizing hearts the little band of his 
 countrymen assisted the bereaved husband in burying 
 his dead. At his request the Reverend James 
 Stewart read the burial service^ and the seamen 
 kindly volunteered to mount guard for some nights 
 at the spot where her body rests in hope. Those who 
 are not aware how this brave, good English wife 
 made a delightful home at Kolobeng, a thousand 
 miles inland from the Cape, and as the daughter of 
 MofFat and a Christian lady exercised most beneficial 
 influence over the rude tribes of the interior, may 
 
SORROW AND APPARENT DEFEAT 20I 
 
 wonder that she should have braved the dangers and 
 toils of this down-trodden land. She knew them all, 
 and, in the disinterested and dutiful attempt to re- 
 new her labors, was called to her rest instead. Fiaty 
 Domine, voluntas tua /" 
 
 Somehow I feel it to be an offence against privacy 
 to quote the words of the weary man, her husband, 
 dumbly bewildered by the blows of an unkind fate. 
 So let these words satisfy, words wrung from the 
 heart of the man of an infinity of tender patience: 
 "Oh, my Mary, my Mary! How often we have longed 
 for a quiet home since you and I were cast adrift at 
 Kolobeng!" 
 
 David Livingstone, master of himself in the agony 
 of his loss, could not sit down in any mood of broken- 
 hearted self-indulgence in grief. To do that would 
 achieve nothing, certainly would not take the sting 
 out of bereavement. There was the bitterness of 
 separation, but he would not allow that to cast a 
 shadow on the happiness of others. Calmly, he 
 triumphed over sorrow. If he owed a duty to the 
 dead, he would transmute that remembered duty into 
 service to the living. And the duty nearest to hand 
 was the doing of what could be done to end the slave 
 trade. He wanted to be assured that there was no 
 other water way to Lake Nyassa than by the Zambesi. 
 If no other way existed, then the patrolling of the 
 inland sea by a British boat would be all the easier. 
 Also, with that strain of mysticism which is in all 
 of us in varied degrees, he felt that in some mysterious 
 
202 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 way his wife's grave by the Zambesi was an influence 
 for good. "It may seem weak to feel a chord vibrat- 
 ing to the dust of her who rests on the banks of the 
 Zambesi," he wrote to Sir Roderick Murchison, 
 "and to think that the path by that is consecrated 
 by her remains." 
 
 And he was assured that there was no other water 
 way to the Nyassa, not by report or hearsay, but by 
 going up the only likely river, the Rovuma, to the 
 distance of a hundred and fifty-six miles. That 
 point being settled, and the river Shire having risen, 
 on the tenth day of January, 1863, in the Pioneer, 
 with the Lady Nyassa in tow, he started for Nyassa. 
 His intention, in a word, was to take the Lady Nyassa 
 somehow to the Lake, if he had to take her to pieces | 
 and make a road for carriers of the parts, then recon- 
 struct and launch her. It is incredible that a man 
 should dream such a dream, but he did more than 
 dream. "We believed that, if it were possible to 
 get a steamer upon the Lake, we could, by her means, 
 put a check on the slavers from the East Coast, and 
 aid more effectually still in the suppression of the 
 slave trade by introducing ... a lawful trade 
 in ivory. We therefore unscrewed the Lady Nyassa 
 at a rivulet about five hundred yards below the first 
 cataract, and began to make a road over the thirty- 
 five or forty miles of land portage by which to carry 
 her up piecemeal. After mature consideration, we 
 could not imagine a more noble work of benevolence 
 than thus to introduce light and liberty into a quarter 
 of this fair earth which human lust has converted 
 
SORROW AND APPARENT DEFEAT 2O3 
 
 into the nearest possible resemblance of what we 
 conceive the infernal regions to be, and we sacrificed 
 much of our private resources as an offering for the 
 promotion of a good cause." 
 
 Mark that "we sacrificed much of our private re- 
 sources." In plain language it means that Dr. 
 Livingstone had spent, out of his own money, salary 
 and royalties from his book, more than $30,000 in re- 
 fitting and doing work on the Lady Nyassa, and in 
 paying natives to make the road across country! 
 And then, when all was well under way, though 
 Livingstone himself was looking after matters while 
 suffering from dysentery, the long arm of govern- 
 ment reached out across oceans and continents, with 
 a notification from Lord John Russell that the expedi- 
 tion was recalled. It was the effect of international 
 policies, and understandings, between statesmen, 
 and all that kind of thing. The local Portuguese 
 had made representations to their government that 
 Livingstone was a disturbing influence, and men in 
 office had whispered and pondered and looked wise, 
 then the English Foreign Office had taken a hand 
 diplomatically, with intent to preserve national 
 amities, so there was an end of things. After Decem- 
 ber, Livingstone's emoluments as consul-explorer 
 would cease, and he would have nothing with which 
 to pay his men. There being no choice, he had to 
 stop work, cease his explorations of the lake lands, 
 pack up and turn his face homeward. To make mat- 
 ters worse, he had just heard of a great lake called 
 Bamba, or Bangweolo, never seen by white man, and, 
 
204 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 in his exploration, had been within ten days' march 
 of it. But there was authority, bUnd, unknowing, 
 and persistent; authority seeking no enlightenment, 
 no explanation. 
 
 So Livingstone and his men, undaunted in spite of 
 all, tramped seven hundred and sixty miles on the 
 back trail, doing the distance in fifty-five days, over 
 a hard-baked soil and through a tsetse fly infested 
 country. As for diplomacy, or rather the lack of it 
 with regard to the man on the firing line, there is this 
 passage in the Journal, a very significant one indeed: 
 "We had received orders from the Foreign Office 
 to take the Pioneer down to the sea. . . . The 
 salaries of all the men in her were positively 'in any 
 case to cease by the 31st of December.' The dis- 
 patch from the Foreign Office having been sent open 
 to the Governor of the Cape, it seems to have been 
 forwarded in the same free-and-easy way to its 
 destination; for the new bishop's chaplain had com- 
 mented freely before a number of Portuguese . . . 
 on its diff'erent paragraphs, and more especially on the 
 omission of all notice of the Lady Nyassa. When his 
 servant brought it up to the Pioneer, he hailed the 
 crew in strong Surrey dialect with, 'I say, no more 
 pay for you chaps after December; I brings the letter 
 as says it.' Though we never for a single moment 
 entertained the idea that this grossly disrespectful 
 way of treating a dispatch from H. M. principal 
 Secretary of State for Foreign Aff'airs was anything 
 more than the result of want of knowledge of the 
 
SORROW AND APPARENT DEFEAT 205 
 
 world on the part of those who had probably never 
 in their Hves seen a government dispatch before, yet 
 the conviction that all the Pioneer's men knew that 
 their wages might not be forthcoming if we were in 
 the river after December, had some influence on a 
 mind borne down by that most depressing of diseases, 
 dysentery." 
 
 But what that sending of the kitchen knave to the 
 hero who deserved a chief knight meant, in the way of 
 turmoil in the heart, we do not know and can only 
 dimly guess. At any rate, we find no expressed 
 bitterness. We do find this piece of tender sympathy, 
 though, and reading the little story, the man Living- 
 stone seems to spring into new stateliness. "As we 
 were sleeping one night, outside a hut, but near 
 enough to hear what was going on within, an anxious 
 mother began to grind her corn about two o'clock in 
 the morning. *Ma,' inquired a little girl, 'why 
 grind in the dark?' Mamma advised sleep, and ad- 
 ministered material for a sweet dream to fier darhng 
 by saying, *I grind meal to buy a cloth from the 
 strangers which will make you look like a little lady.' " 
 Livingstone adds this, "An observer of these primi- 
 tive races is struck continually with such little trivial 
 touches of genuine human nature." 
 
 Nor was it by any design that Livingstone tells the 
 story hot on the heels of the tale of the wrongful 
 doings of men and of the message from his Foreign 
 Oflftce. For he was the very soul of high patriotism 
 and order and obedience. Indeed, the selflessness of 
 
206 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 the man is almost incomprehensible. He was cheer- 
 ful and undaunted under a catastrophe which would 
 have broken most men. 
 
 Note, too, this example of tolerance; this whole- 
 some refusal to impose his preferences on others, so 
 entirely characteristic of the man. He is writing of 
 the natives who, after harvesting, make merry with 
 honest cakes and ale, not stinting themselves in the 
 least. "None but a churl would grudge them this, 
 the enjoyment, though a poor one, of their lives. 
 Bless their hearts, let them rejoice in the fruits of 
 their labor! We confess, however, that we have 
 never witnessed the plenty which their land yields 
 without turning in imagination to the streets and 
 lanes of our cities, and lamenting that the squalid off- 
 spring of poverty and sin had not more pleasant lives 
 in this world, where there is so much and to spare." 
 
 We see Livingstone at this time as a man who had 
 suffered great personal sorrow, who had seen his plans ^j 
 swept away by a clumsy hand, and who thought that 
 his most important, careful, and arduous labors had 
 been suddenly made fruitless. We imagine him 
 regarded by the Portuguese as defeated, certainly 
 cordially hated as the would-be destroyer of a very 
 profitable trade. For there he was, recalled by his i 
 government, facing the prospect of selling his only ■ 
 means of transport, the Lady Nyassa, to those who 
 would use the ship for the very purposes he had given 
 his Ufe to destroy. At this point it will be well for^| 
 any reader to take a map of Africa and trace a course, 
 be it ever so roughly, from Lake Nyassa down to the 
 
SORROW AND APPARENT DEFEAT 20/ 
 
 mouth of the river, and then across the sea channel 
 to Mozambique. That being done, let a ruler be 
 set across the map in such wise that it touches 
 Mozambique, and Bombay in India, thus crossing 
 2,500 miles and more of sea. So shall some idea be 
 formed of the bold venture made by David Living- 
 stone. For, at Mozambique, finding himself in sad 
 coils, he severed them with a sharp resolve and went 
 direct to his goal. That he would dare to navigate 
 the little ship built for river traffic across those miles 
 of ocean is unthinkable. Yet that very thing he did, 
 and, if Bombay and other near sea ports had been in 
 the hands of the Portuguese, he would have sailed 
 around the Cape of Good Hope and up the Atlantic — 
 or he would have sunk the ship in deep waters and 
 walked to England rather than give as much as one 
 stick, line, or rope of her to the dealers in human flesh. 
 
 So, with seven Zambesi natives, two boys, and 
 three Europeans who were to act as fireman and 
 sailor and carpenter. Captain Livingstone took com- 
 mand, pulling up anchor on April 30, 1864, and drop- 
 ping it in Bombay harbor, June 13th, with a clean 
 bill of health for all on board. And there he was, for 
 a few days, paying his men off, seeing to the docking 
 of his craft, a man iron-gray and wrinkled and 
 resolute, doing all well and thoroughly, hke any sea- 
 soned skipper. He talked business for a while, half 
 deciding to sell his ship, but so small a vessel had 
 little value in those seas. Besides, as he tells us: 
 "with the thought of parting with her, arose more 
 strongly than ever the feeling of disinclination to 
 
208 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 abandon the East Coast of Africa to the Portuguese 
 and slave-trading, and I determined to run home and 
 consult my friends." 
 
 To clear up the matter of the Lady Nyassa, let it 
 be said that Livingstone did sell her, but that was on 
 his return, when he took the equivalent in English 
 money of $13,000, which was not quite half of what 
 he had spent on her. The proceeds he put in the 
 Indian Bank, which soon afterward failed, so that all 
 of his investment was finally lost. But loss of money 
 could not embitter him, and he accepted the news with 
 a shrug of his shoulders, saying, "The cost was dedi- 
 cated to the great cause for which she was built," and 
 so dismissed the matter. But that is getting ahead 
 of the story. 
 
 At Bombay he put the two boys of his crew to 
 school, then started homeward with the three white 
 sailors, and reached London on July 10, 1864. 
 
 .\lways simple and uncomphcated, direct and 
 obvious, David Livingstone arrived in London, took 
 a meal, and, travel-stained, rumpled, and unmindful 
 of fashion and social etiquette, walked to the house 
 of his friend, Sir Roderick Murchison, and knocked 
 at the door. He looked for nothing more than a good 
 talk behind closed doors. But his friend saw only 
 the hero of the frontier, who should not come quietly 
 and unannounced, he thought, but with trumpets 
 and heralds, to be greeted by the highest in the land. 
 "So," runs the Journal, "Sir Roderick took me off 
 with him, just as I was, to Lady Palmerston's recep- 
 
SORROW AND APPARENT DEFEAT 20g 
 
 tion. My lady was very gracious. Gave me tea 
 herself. Lord Palmerston looking very well. Had 
 two conversations with him about the slave trade. 
 Sir Roderick says he is more intent on maintaining 
 his policy on that than on any other subject." 
 
 A little later, the explorer met Lord Russell and 
 found him "very cold," at which he wondered much. 
 For Livingstone, honorable and chivalrous and high- 
 hearted because of his ideal, could not understand 
 how men in place and power could by any possibility 
 be petty, fooHsh, self-centered because of their 
 political ambitions, and immured in generally ac- 
 cepted opinions. He thought that they had only to 
 be shown the unpardonable blunder of a policy that 
 perpetuated the hideous slave trade, and at once all 
 would be well. As he saw it they had only to be 
 shown an indubitably fine ideal, and one and all 
 would leap to give it existence. 
 
 But there were party politics, and Russell-Palmer- 
 ston antagonisms; there were diplomatic angularities 
 and stiffnesses; there were egoisms and jealousies and 
 strivings. Also, the nations were thick in the nation- 
 alistic and imperialistic struggles of the Nineteenth 
 Century, and because of his activities, it came about 
 that David Livingstone was an important piece on 
 the chessboard on which English and Portuguese 
 politicians played the international game for the 
 partition of Africa. 
 
 But the explorer, in his single-mindedness, knew 
 nothing of that, and had he known or realized it, 
 would not have greatly concerned himself. He 
 
2IO 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 saw only that one all-embracing problem. He had 
 his plans for the future, and set them forth to any 
 who cared to hear, in no uncertain way, thus: "I pro- 
 pose to go inland north of the territory which the 
 Portuguese in Europe claim, and endeavor to com- 
 mence that system on the East, which has been so 
 eminently successful on the West Coast, a system 
 combining the repressive efforts of H. M. cruisers 
 with lawful trade and Christian missions, the moral 
 and material results of which have been so gratifying. 
 I hope to ascend the Rovuma, or some other river 
 north of Cape Delgado, and in addition to my other 
 work shall strive, by passing along the northern end 
 of Lake Nyassa, and round the southern end of Lake 
 Tanganyika, to ascertain the water-shed of that part 
 of Africa. In so doing, I have no wish to unsettle 
 what, with so much toil and danger, was accomplished 
 by Speke and Grant, but rather to confirm their illus- 
 trious discoveries." 
 
 Such then was the plan of the man who was touch- 
 ing his fifty-third year, whose wife's life had been 
 given to the cause he had at heart, and whose eldest 
 son Robert had fought against slavery in the Federal 
 army and been buried at Gettysburg. And behind 
 that very practical plan was the desire to frustrate 
 those who, in the name of trade, crushed and demoral- 
 ized and degraded the African natives; whose work 
 was one of conquest and spoliation; whose thirst for 
 wealth meant tears and destruction and blood- 
 spilling; whose activities meant chaos. 
 
 For nine months, Livingstone was in England, 
 
SORROW AND APPARENT DEFEAT 211 
 
 lecturing, working incessantly to interest men in his 
 cause; and writing his second book. He appeared 
 before a House of Commons committee to enter his 
 warm protest against England's "monstrous mistake 
 as to missionaries," as a blot on Britain's escutcheon. 
 Of sorrow and loss and severed ties he said nothing, 
 he did not try to vindicate his personal reputation 
 when it was attacked, but was always ready and 
 willing to talk of his high mission — to churchmen, 
 to statesmen, to schoolboys. Indeed, one of his last 
 addresses was to the scholars of the school in which 
 his son Oswell was being educated, and in that ad- 
 dress his farewell words were "Work hard!" 
 
 At last, according to H, M. Stanley's report of a 
 conversation with the explorer. Sir Roderick Murchi- 
 son one day approached Livingstone and told him 
 that the Royal Geographical Society was resolved to 
 send an expedition to Africa to solve the problem of 
 the watershed between the Nyassa and the Tangan- 
 yika lakes, whereupon Livingstone suggested a well- 
 known man for the honor of being leader. But the 
 nominee "declined to proceed to Africa on the 
 strength of nothing more than a verbal promise of a 
 reward," whereupon the old war-horse offered himself 
 for the task, money or no^ money. What the govern- 
 ment finally gave was a pitiful sum of ^2,500 towards 
 the expenses of the expedition, and the title of Consul 
 without salary, a proceeding which closely parallels 
 the support given to Magellan by the Spanish king. 
 And, in Livingstone's case, as in Magellan's, the 
 burden of the expense was borne by private individ- 
 
212 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 uals, for a friend who chose to remain anonymous 
 sent ^5,000, the Royal Geographical Society $2,500, 
 A third journey was assured. 
 
 Livingstone's detached and selfless devotion to his 
 ideal made him fail to realize the possible needs, 
 beyond immediate necessities, of his own kindred. 
 His children might have suffered if the anonymous 
 friend who supported the expedition had not seen to it 
 that they did not want for anything. The dangerous 
 and almost fanatical aspect of Livingstone's devotion 
 to his purpose is easy to mention with a curl of the 
 lip, but for me it only adds strangely to the grandeur 
 of that great passion. When the Premier, Earl 
 Russell, sent Mr. Hayward, his representative, to 
 Livingstone to discover a way in which the explorer 
 might be rewarded for his labors, the veteran traveler 
 made answer: "If you stop the Portuguese slave 
 trade, you will gratify me beyond measure." That 
 was all. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 DRAWING THE MAP OF AFRICA 
 
 IVINGSTONE went via Paris, where he left his 
 
 I J daughter Agnes at school, to Bombay. He left 
 England on August 15, 1865, and landed in India in 
 September. At the earUest opportunity, he crossed 
 to Zanzibar, taking with him nine volunteers, Nas- 
 sick boys all, from the government school for Africans. 
 At Zanzibar there was a two-month wait for the 
 Penguin^ a cruiser, and it is there that the last Journal 
 commences, the first entry being dated January 28, 
 
 The start from Zanzibar for Africa was made on 
 March 19th, and three days later they anchored in 
 Rovuma Bay, two miles from the mouth of the river 
 which was to be explored. The party was made 
 up of the nine Nassick boys, most of them possessed 
 of the slave spirit and unsatisfactory; thirteen Sepoys 
 who had been drafted from the Marine Battalion by 
 order of Sir Bartle Frere, Governor of Bombay; ten 
 Johanna men; two Shupanga men, and two Waiyaus 
 men. The two last were named Wakatani and 
 Chuma, both of the party of slaves rescued by Living- 
 stone and Bishop Mackenzie in 1861. One of the 
 Johanna men, a former Lady Nyassa hand, was named 
 Musa. Two others had long been known to Living- 
 
 1866. 
 
214 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 Stone. They were Susi and Amoda, both former 
 wood-cutters with the Pioneer. Of animals, there 
 were six camels, three buffaloes and a calf, two mules, 
 four donkeys, and a friendly and lively poodle named 
 Chitanpe. Livingstone was greatly interested to 
 observe the effect of the tsetse fly on the camels and 
 
DRAWING THE MAP OF AFRICA 215 
 
 mules, and noted carefully how the camels and bufFalo 
 had suffered from bruising on the sea voyage. 
 
 For himself there was a sense of exultation at the 
 prospect of travel in an unknown land. He wrote: 
 '"Now that I am on the point of starting on another 
 trip into Africa, I feel quite exhilarated; when one 
 travels with the specific object in view of ameliorating 
 the condition of the natives, every act becomes en- 
 nobled. . . . The mere animal pleasure of 
 travehng in a wild, unexplored country is very great. 
 When on lands of a couple of thousand feet elevation, 
 brisk exercise imparts elasticity to the muscles, fresh 
 and healthy blood circulates through the brain, the 
 mind works well, the eye is clear, the step is firm, and 
 a day's exertion always makes the evening's repose 
 thoroughly enjoyable." So we have the man in 
 a state of perfect coordination and thoroughly con- 
 scious of the fact. He was full of what Richard 
 JefFeries called the passion of life, pleased with the 
 vehemence of exertion. To quote the Journal: "The 
 effect of travel on a man whose heart is in the right 
 place is that the mind is made more self-reliant; it 
 becomes more confident of its own resources — there 
 is a greater presence of mind. The body is soon well 
 knit; the muscles of the limbs grow as hard as a board 
 and seem to have no fat; the countenance is bronzed 
 and there is no dyspepsia. . . . No doubt much 
 toil is involved, and fatigue of which travelers in the 
 more temperate climes can form but a faint con- 
 ception; but the sweat of one's brow is no longer a 
 curse when one works for God; it proves a tonic to 
 
2l6 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 the system, and is actually a blessing." And with 
 the delight that came because he lived in touch with 
 nature, there was the sense of fellowship. "Our sym- 
 pathies are drawn out toward our humble, hardy com- 
 panions by a community of interests, and it may be 
 of perils, which makes us all friends. Nothing but 
 the most pitiable puerility would lead any manly 
 heart to make their inferiority a theme for self- 
 exultation; however, that is often done, as if with the 
 vague idea that we can, by magnifying their defi- 
 ciencies, demonstrate our immaculate perfections." 
 
 There, surely, is enough to show the error of those 
 who have declared that Livingstone was a physically 
 broken and disheartened man when he started on his 
 third and most stupendous journey. And, because 
 of what was to happen at Lake Nyassa, it is important 
 as showing the falsity of the charge that Livingstone 
 was prejudiced against some of his men because of 
 their race. 
 
 Before the middle of April, they were in dense 
 jungle, with trees so vine-twined as to "present the 
 appearance of a ship's ropes and cables shaken in 
 among them," some of the cHmbing plants curiously 
 formed in such fashion that "the species seems to be 
 eager for mischief." The explorer knew no name for 
 the danger plant, but likens it to the scabbard of a 
 dragoon's sword with a ridge along the middle of the 
 flat side "from which springs up every few inches a 
 bunch of inch-long thorns. It hangs straight for a 
 couple of yards, but, as if it could not give its thorns 
 a fair chance of mischief, it suddenly bends on itself, 
 
DRAWING THE MAP OF AFRICA ZIJ 
 
 and all its cruel points are now at right angles to 
 what they were before. Darwin's observation shows 
 a great deal of what looks like instinct in these climb- 
 ers . . . tangled limbs hang out ready to inflict 
 injury on all passers-by." Through that tangle of 
 fantastic vegetation, which was also a region of the 
 tsetse fly, they had to cut their way, and to do so 
 Livingstone engaged natives, paying them one yard of 
 calico per day. 
 
 The Sepoys were slow on the march, and they were 
 cruel to the beasts of burden; to their strange cruelty 
 Livingstone found that much was to be attributed 
 which he had charged to the eff"ects of climate and 
 insects. There was the Sepoy Pando, for example, 
 not only a drunkard and a thief but worse. One day 
 Livingstone caught him belaboring a camel with a 
 stick the size of a man's airo. The next day the 
 animal was unable to use its leg, and inflammation 
 was in the hip joint. " I am afraid that several bruises 
 which have festered on the camels and were to me 
 unaccountable, have been wilfully bestowed," wrote 
 Livingstone, and soon found his suspicions confirmed. 
 On the last day of April came another entry making 
 note of "many ulcers on the camels. . . . They 
 come back from pasture, bleeding in a way that no 
 rubbing against a tree would account for, I am sorry 
 to suspect foul play; the buffaloes and mules are 
 badly used, but I cannot be always near to prevent 
 it." A week later there is recorded an alarming state 
 of affairs. "A camel died during the night, and the 
 gray buffalo is in convulsions this morning. The 
 
2l8 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 cruelty of these Sepoys vitiates my experiment, and I 
 quite expect many camels, one buffalo, and one mule 
 to die yet; they sit down and smoke and eat, leaving 
 the animals loaded in the sun. If I am not with 
 them it is a constant dawdling; they are evidently 
 unwilling to exert themselves; they cannot carry 
 their belts and bags, and their powers of eating and 
 vomiting are astounding. . . . We have not 
 averaged four miles a day in a straight line, yet the 
 animals have often been kept in the sun for eight 
 hours at a stretch. When we get up at 4 a. m., we 
 cannot get under way before eight o'clock. Sej)oys 
 are a mistake." Employment of the Sepoys had 
 proved to be an error, a sad one out of which grew 
 tremendous trouble. There were evidences of fiend- 
 ish cruelty. Day after day the transport animals 
 came in wounded, one with a mysterious round hole 
 from which a pelvic bone protruded, another bleeding 
 profusely. If Livingstone was not there to watch, 
 the animals were overloaded and badly harnessed, 
 then terribly beaten because of their inability to 
 travel with speed. And the Nassick boys imitated 
 the Sepoys in studied brutality. Sometimes animals 
 fell dead from no ascertainable cause, and on June 
 26th, the last mule was buried. Meanwhile, things 
 were being stolen; not only food, but camp utensils, 
 and for eight days the members of the party were 
 reduced to the eating of porridge and rice, without 
 relish. 
 
 With all that, Livingstone looked for some kind of 
 an explosion, and it came after the explorer had 
 
DRAWING THE MAP OF AFRICA 219 
 
 pierced his way to Lake Nyassa, which he reached on 
 August 8th. As it was not possible to cross the lake, 
 such canoes as were there being owned by Arab slave- 
 traders, Livingstone led his party southward along 
 the lake shore, so that he would come to familiar 
 country at the southern end of the lake. The slave 
 trade had done fearful work. There were dead 
 bodies festering in the sun; skeletons chained to 
 trees; other skeletons with the slave sticks still about 
 their necks and ax-holes in the skulls. And at 
 villages, Arab slave-dealers, anxious to wreck the 
 Livingstone expedition but afraid to make an open 
 attack, worked on the fears of the Sepoys and the 
 Nassick boys. Then, on September 26th, Musa, 
 the Johanna malcontent, became central in affairs. 
 
 Musa, as has been said, knew something of the 
 ways of white men, and knew more of Livingstone 
 and his positiveness. The man was evidently a 
 chronic whiner and fault-finder, not without sufficient 
 sharpness and cunning to enable him to hide his 
 intrigues from Livingstone. He had a lively imagi- 
 nation, too. Naturally, he became spokesman, and 
 told Livingstone that the Johanna men could go no 
 farther. They were, he said, utterly exhausted. As 
 for himself, he said he was filled with desire to see 
 his home and his parents. Then he fell to discussing 
 the perils of the country, and prophesying failure 
 for the expedition. 
 
 Livingstone listened patiently, but showed no 
 signs of alarm at the prospect of losing what had been 
 a decided liability instead of an asset, for the ex- 
 
220 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 pedltion. Nor did he pay any tribute to the value of 
 Musa and his followers in the way of persuasion. 
 Instead he gave the word to march. At that, the 
 Johanna men threw down their packages, doubtless 
 with some expectation of their example being fol- 
 lowed, but it was not. So the revolt ended as swiftly 
 as it had commenced, and the Johanna men were left 
 to their own plans, with Musa for leader. 
 
 And Musa led his malcontents tothe coast in safety, 
 and there, to account for his reappearance, hatched 
 up a story so very plausible that it was universally 
 believed, except by those white men who knew the 
 man. Indeed, such was its ring of truth, that on 
 publication of the tale many who had entertained 
 hopes of the falsity of the first rumor, gave up hope. 
 The news of Livingstone's death was flashed over the 
 world, and Musa's story impressed those who ex- 
 amined it as being based on correctly observed fact. 
 Indeed, the Geographical Society financed and sent 
 out an expedition under Mr. E. D. Young, which 
 sailed from England on July 9, 1867, and returned 
 January 27, 1868. The expedition did not find 
 Livingstone, but its report relieved anxiety. It had 
 followed Livingstone's course up the Shire, past the 
 rapids to Lake Nyassa, some of Livingstone's faith- 
 ful Makololo guiding it. Questions put to the lake 
 natives proved beyond a doubt that Musa's tale 
 was without foundation, and that Livingstone had 
 gone past the Shire valley and to the northeast. 
 Later, England was relieved by the pubhcation of a 
 letter from Livingstone, dated March 2, 1867. 
 
DRAWING THE MAP OF AFRICA 221 
 
 There were also well-founded reports received on 
 the coast, reports passed from village to village, and 
 mouth to mouth, from Central Africa, which ac- 
 
 I counted for the explorer more or less vaguely, up to 
 
 1 December, 1867. 
 
 I As for the tale told by Musa, the description of 
 actual surroundings and the dramatic narrative 
 are very moving and a reading of it as it was pub- 
 lished, will show how in England, fear must have 
 
 I stalked beside every hope. The following extract 
 
 ! is from the Times of India: 
 
 "The hopes raised by the news of rumored safety 
 of Dr. Livingstone have speedily been dispelled, and 
 there can no longer be any doubt that he was killed 
 by a savage of the Mafite tribe. The narrative of 
 the Sepoy belonging to the Marine Battalion (21st 
 Native Infantry) who formed one of the Doctor's es- 
 cort, and who arrived from Zanzibar in the Gazelle 
 on the 14th of May, turns out to be altogether in- 
 accurate; and, substantially, the tale told by Musa is 
 proved correct. 
 
 "The Nadir Shah, a vessel of war belonging to the 
 Sultan of Zanzibar, at present used as a trader, 
 reached Bombay on the 15th of May in cargo; and 
 from information we obtained on board we are en- 
 abled to give a more detailed account of the circum- 
 stances in connection with the melancholy story of 
 the Doctor's fate than has yet been published. The 
 Nadir Shah left Zanzibar on the forenoon of the 28th 
 of March, so that the news she brings is nearly a 
 
 ^ month later than that brought by the Gazelle, and 
 
 1' 
 
222 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 three days later than the last dispatch received from 
 Zanzibar by the Bombay Government. 
 
 "Dr. Livingstone took his departure from Zanzi- 
 bar in March, 1866, and was conveyed by her Majes- 
 ty's ship Penguin to Mikindany, near the mouth 
 of the Rovuma River. The expedition consisted 
 of Dr. Livingstone and thirty-five men, ten of whom 
 were natives of Johanna, one of the Comoro Islands, 
 thirteen Africans, and twelve Sepoys of the Bombay 
 Marine BattaHon. It was thought by Dr. Living- 
 stone that these Africans would be of service to him 
 on his journey into the interior. The Africans were 
 formerly slaves, who had been Hberated and edu- 
 cated in the Bombay Presidency. There was no 
 other European in the party except Dr. Livingstone 
 himself. The beasts taken were — six camels, four 
 buffaloes from Bombay, five asses, and two mules, 
 and among the baggage were forage, gunpowder, etc. 
 The Penguin started from Zanzibar on the 19th of 
 March, 1866, and the men in the Doctor's train and 
 the beasts were taken from Zanzibar in a large dhow, 
 which was towed by the Penguin. In three days 
 the Penguin arrived off the river Rovuma, but, owing 
 to the strong current, the dhow could not be got into 
 the mouth of the stream. The expedition then made 
 for Mikindany Bay, about thirty miles northward 
 of Cape Delagoa, where Dr. Livingstone and his party 
 were successfully landed on the 28th of March. 
 
 "The Johanna men, who had been engaged for the 
 Doctor's service by Mr. Sundley, the English Consul 
 at Johanna, were considered preferable for the service 
 
DRAWING THE MAP OF AFRICA 223 
 
 to Zanzibar men. On the march into the interior the 
 Sepoys seem to have suiFered much, and Dr. Living- 
 stone thought it necessary to leave them on the route 
 to enable them to return to Zanzibar. In returning 
 they had but little to eat, and ran great risk of starv- 
 ing. One by one, all the Sepoys fell ill, and the 
 sickness that attacked the havildar was fatal, as he 
 died of dysentery. None of the twelve Sepoys who 
 started with the Doctor reached Nyassa, and those 
 who survived returned to Zanzibar in August or 
 September. In October last the Johanna men made 
 their appearance in Zanzibar, and presented them- 
 selves before Dr. Seward, the British Consul, when 
 for the first time the inteUigence was received of the 
 disaster which had befallen Dr. Livingstone. From 
 the accounts of these Johanna men it would seem 
 that the expedition reached Lake Nyassa in safety 
 and crossed the lake. They pushed on westward, 
 and in the course of some time reached Goomani, a 
 fishing village on a river. This would appear to have 
 been in the second or third week of August last. 
 The people of Goomani warned Dr. Livingstone that 
 the Mafites, a wandering predatory tribe, were out 
 on a plundering expedition, and that it would not be 
 safe to continue the journey. But the dangers thus 
 presented to view were not sufficient to deter a man 
 who had braved so many before; and, treating the 
 warnings as of but slight moment, he crossed the 
 river in canoes the next morning, with his baggage 
 and train of followers, in safety. Previously to this 
 time, the whole of the baggage animals had perished 
 
224 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 on the journey from the want of water; and on 
 reaching the further side of the river the baggage had 
 to be carried by the Doctor's men. Being a fast 
 walker, Dr. Livingstone kept some distance in ad- 
 vance of the baggage-encumbered men; and Musa 
 only, or Musa and a few others of the party, kept 
 up with him. The march had continued some 
 distance, when Dr. Livingstone saw three armed men 
 ahead, and thereupon he called out to Musa, "The 
 Mafites are out after all," or some such words as 
 those, and these seem to have been the last he 
 uttered. The three Mafites were armed with bows 
 and arrows and other weapons, and they immediately 
 commenced hostilities. Evidently the men must 
 have closed on the Doctor, when, finding matters 
 desperate, he drew his revolver and shot two of his 
 assailants; but while thus disposing of the two the 
 third managed to get behind Dr. Livingstone, and 
 with one blow from an ax, clove in his head. The 
 wound was mortal, but the assassin quickly met his 
 own doom, for a bullet from Musa's musket passed 
 through his body, and the murderer fell dead beside 
 his victim. Musa states that the Doctor died in- 
 stantly, and that, finding the Mafites were out, he 
 ran back to the luggage party and told them that 
 their master had been killed. The baggage was 
 hastily abandoned, and the Johanna men, Musa, 
 and the rest of the party sought safety by hasty 
 flight, which, according to Musa's story, they con- 
 tinued until sunset, when they reached a secure 
 hiding-place in the jungle. They held a consultation, 
 
DRAWING THE MAP OF AFRICA 225 
 
 and it was alleged that Musa prevailed on them to go 
 back to look after the body of their late master, and 
 that on regaining the place where the murder had 
 been perpetrated they found Dr. Livingstone's body 
 lying there. The Doctor's watch had been carried 
 away, together with his clothes, the only article 
 that remained on the body being the trousers. Musa 
 and the men who had accompanied him "scratched" 
 a hole in the ground just deep enough to bury the 
 body in, and there left, in a far remote and unknown 
 spot, the remains of the self-denying and noble man 
 who, all too soon for his country and for the cause 
 of civilization, but not too soon for him to have 
 earned an enduring fame, found his end at the hand 
 of an ignoble savage. The corpses of the three 
 Mafites were lying on the spot where they had fallen; 
 but no attention was paid to them by Musa, who, on 
 searching, could find no memento of his late master 
 to bring with him to Zanzibar. In making their way 
 to the coast, great hardships were experienced by 
 Musa and the other survivers of the party, who were 
 in such a starving condition that they had to live 
 upon the berries they could gather by the way, until 
 they fell in with an Arab caravan, which entertained 
 them kindly. They were thus enabled to reach 
 Kilwa, in the territory of the Sultan of Zanzibar. 
 They were here provided with clothes and neces- 
 saries and sent on to Zanzibar, at which place they 
 reported all the circumstances to Dr. Seward, by 
 whom they were closely examined. Dr. Kirk, of 
 Zanzibar, also questioned them carefully, and found 
 
226 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 that their statement of the country through which 
 they alleged they had passed correctly answered the 
 leading features of the wilds through which Dr. 
 Livingstone had intended to track his way. 
 
 "The Johanna men were taken to Johanna, and 
 carefully interrogated by the Sultan, as well as by 
 Mr. Sundley, and their answers tallied with Musa's 
 narrative. The Johanna men asked Mr. Sundley 
 to pay them the nine months' wages due them for 
 their services with the expedition, and, as they were 
 entitled to what they demanded, the money was paid 
 them. Some of the men who went away with the 
 expedition, and who were not accounted for as hav- 
 ing died, were still missing. 
 
 "On the 26th of December Dr. Seward left Zanzi- 
 bar in her Majesty's ship Wasp, and proceeded to 
 Kilwa, but he was unable to obtain any fresh infor- 
 mation, or to gather additional details."* 
 
 Livingstone did not learn of the Search Expe- 
 dition conducted by Mr. Young, until February, 
 1870. In the meantime, he had done wonderful 
 things in the way of discovery and exploration. He 
 had found vast inland seas, hundreds of rivers, many 
 mountains. He had charted what he found, some- 
 times without instruments, using his own body for 
 a measuring pole, his own stride for distances. The 
 map of unknown Central Africa which he made ex- V 
 tends from almost 15° to 3° south latitude, and from 
 
 *See Appendix for Dr. G. E. Seward's communication to the Foreign 
 Office, and for Mr. Edward Daniel Young's account of the Search Ex- 
 pedition, 
 
DRAWING THE MAP OF AFRICA 227 
 
 28° to 40° east longitude, with a wealth of detail 
 shown along his line of march. When I say "a 
 wealth of detail," I have in mind such minute ex- 
 planations and instructions as would be priceless for 
 one following the explorer. For instance, we find it 
 recorded that such a river is 800 feet above sea level, 
 and at a fording place 100 yards wide; that on Lake 
 Nyassa there is a native crossing place which canoes 
 take two days to ferry over; that a mountain seen 
 from a given spot is 3,250 feet above sea-level; that 
 behind such a hill is a village; and much more of the 
 sort. Then, allowing for error, he warns all con- 
 cerned that "no dependence is to be placed on the 
 map except as to general features of the country 
 and rivers, until my observations are recalculated." 
 In April, 1867, he proved that what was talked of as 
 Lake Liemba was the southern extremity of the great 
 inland sea, Lake Tanganyika, a body of water 400 
 miles long and 30 miles wide, the northern part of 
 which Seen found by Burton and Speke in 1858. 
 On November 8, 1867, he first saw Lake Moero, a 
 body of water between latitude 8° 30' and 10° south, 
 with an area of more than 2,020 square miles, a length 
 of 70 miles and a width of 24 miles. On July 18, 
 1868, there is this modest announcement in the 
 Journal: "I walked a httle way out, and saw the 
 shores of the Lake [Bangweolo] for the first time, 
 thankful that I had come hither safely." Thus, al- 
 most casually, he records the discovery of a great 
 Central African lake of which there had been un- 
 confirmed rumors, a body of water 150 miles in 
 
228 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 length and 75 miles in width. Into it the Chambeze 
 ran, as he noted, and out of it the Luapula, or source 
 stream of the Congo. "Thanks to that all-embrac- 
 ing Providence which has watched over and enabled 
 me to discover what I have done. There is still 
 much to do, and, if health and protection be granted, 
 I shall make a complete thing of it." That "com- 
 plete thing" was to follow the river Lualaba, to 
 decide whether it was the western main tributary of 
 the Nile or the eastern head water of the Congo; also 
 "to certify that no other sources of the Nile can 
 come from the south without being seen by me. No 
 one will cut me out after this exploration is accom- 
 plished, and may the good Lord of all help me to show 
 myself one of His stout-hearted servants, an honor to 
 my children, and perhaps to my country and race." 
 And in another place he wrote, referring to his plans, 
 "I have endeavored to follow with unswerving 
 fidelity the Hne of duty. My course has been an 
 even one, swerving neither to the rigl fcD" left, 
 though my route has been tortuous enough. All 
 the hardship, hunger, and toil were met with the full 
 conviction that I was right in persevering to make 
 a complete work of the exploration of the sources of 
 the Nile. I had a strong presentiment during the 
 first three years that I should not live through the 
 enterprise; but it weakened as I came near to the 
 end of the journey, and an eager desire to discover 
 any evidence of the great Moses having visited these 
 parts bound me — spellbound me, I may say. I 
 have to go down the Central Lualaba., or Webb's 
 
DRAWING THE MAP OF AFRICA 229 
 
 Lake River, then up the Western or Young's Lake 
 River to Katanga headwaters, and then retire — 
 I pray that it may be to my native home." 
 / There, in as Httle compass as possible, we have the 
 \gist of his discoveries on his third journey, though 
 the full tale of them and his wanderings takes almost 
 a quarter of a million words. From time to time, out 
 of the jungle silence went an occasional letter that 
 reached Zanzibar and was forwarded to England, 
 though many, very many of his letters referred to in 
 the Journals are unaccounted for. In one case, forty 
 letters vanished; but of those that went through 
 there was a letter to Lord Clarendon, dated from 
 Casembe, December 10, 1867, which gave an epitome 
 of his travels between lakes Nyassa and Moero. 
 There was another dated July 7th, which Clarendon 
 read to the Royal Geographical Society, giving the 
 salient facts of his doings. Again, in December, 
 1869, a letter written by him was published in all the 
 important English papers, dated May 30, 1869. 
 But so rare were the tidings that those interested in 
 his welfare suffered keen anxiety, the more because 
 there were occasional rumors of his death by murder. 
 
 I have spoken of that third and last Journal with 
 some hope that this book may lead to an interest in 
 it. For it would be hard to read that record with- 
 out being impressed by the man's rigid adherence 
 to truth and to moderation of statement. The style 
 is Hke John Bunyan's in its sober simpHcity. The 
 explorer's genial, sunny disposition shines through 
 his writing even when he is torn with the racking 
 
230 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 pains of rheumatic fever. If he describes a bird, or a 
 flower, or a fish, it is with most admirable clarity. 
 Writing of quaint things seen, he reveals a subtly 
 persuasive humor as when he tells of listening to a 
 fire-eating chief who made a "long and fierce oration" 
 telling the explorer that he would be killed and eaten 
 as "the people wanted a white one to eat." Living- 
 stone heard the "noisy demagogue" patiently, and, 
 at the end of the tirade, "thanked him for his 
 warnings." Then he is full of divine anger at the 
 sight of cruelty. "I am heartsore and sick of 
 human blood shedding," he writes again and 
 again — but he is never vengeful. Indeed, such is 
 the man's sincerity, such is his power of observation, 
 such are his delicate taste and earnestness and un- 
 compromising truthfulness, that it seems to me 
 more than probable that, had he chosen literature 
 for his profession, he would have ranked with the 
 greatest writers of his day. 
 
 And before leaving the subject of his Journal 
 entries, a word is necessary about the difficulties 
 under which he labored. His notebooks were utilized 
 to the last fraction of an inch of space, and when 
 blank paper failed him, he wrote on old newspapers, 
 using an ink he learned to manufacture from berries. 
 Pressed between pages were botanical specimens, two 
 or three tsetse flies, leaves, and grasses. Nor, ex- 
 cept when in the most extreme suffering, did he 
 neglect to make properly dated entries. 
 
 As for the man's piety, much is to be said. His f 
 religion was very real, very positive. His God was 
 
DRAWING THE MAP OF AFRICA 23 1 
 
 all about him and encompassing him, and never 
 closer than when he staggered from sheer weariness 
 and physical weakness. Indeed, a sort of disquie- 
 tude comes upon one when considering the realness 
 of the faith of the man, a faith of priceless value to 
 him. There are entries and entries in the Journals 
 which show his unshaken behef in a divine will, both 
 in times perilous and in times when all was smooth 
 going; and with him prayer was a suppHcation for his 
 self-submission to that will, or else an expression of 
 thankfulness for power given him. But prayer was 
 never a petition for selfish ends or for special patron- 
 age. 
 
 Let me illustrate : There was a time at the close of 
 the year 1866 when food was hard and scanty and 
 the man was always hungry; when he was without 
 sugar or salt and glad to get anything in the shape 
 of meat, even "a rat-looking animal" which he 
 bought. At that time there were continuous rains, 
 the ground was boggy, and none of the party knew 
 what it was to be dry at night. In the midst of these 
 unfavorable conditions he pens what is really an 
 informal but heartfelt prayer, or rather two prayers, 
 one closing the year and the other opening it; and 
 both are prayers of supplication, entirely void of what 
 might be called materialism. 
 
 December jist: . . We now end 1866. It 
 has not been so fruitful or useful as I intended. Will 
 try to do better in 1867, and be better — more gentle 
 and loving; and may the Almighty, to whom I com- 
 mit my way, bring my desires to pass, and prosper me. 
 
232 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 Let all the sins of '66 be blotted out, for Jesus' 
 sake!" 
 
 January i, 1867: "May He who was full of grace 
 and truth, impress His character on mine. Grace — 
 eagerness to show favor; truth — truthfulness, sin- 
 cerity, honor — for His mercy's sake." 
 
 I have spoken before of his subhme detachment 
 from his own suffering, but let me show you another 
 example, from the Journal of 1869, when he was 
 fifty-six years of age; it is a passage that shows also 
 to what a pass things had come by that time. 
 
 . . Pneumonia of right lung, and I cough all 
 day and night. . . . Mohamed Bogarib offered 
 to carry me. I am so weak I can scarcely speak. 
 We are in Marunge proper now — a pretty but steeply 
 undulating country. This is the first time in my 
 life I have been carried in illness, but I cannot raise 
 myself to the sitting position." And yet, in that 
 state of physical wretchedness, he brings himself, 
 as you see, to break the tale of his own sufferings to 
 write of the beauty of the surroundings. A little 
 later he has something to say of the flora and the 
 fauna of the country, has something else to say of 
 Bogarib's kindness, is full of sympathy for the 
 natives because of the small and sharp thorns which 
 wound their legs and feet. Then, presently, in quite 
 matter-of-fact way he writes, "Feb. 14th, 1869, 
 arrived at Tanganyika." Sick, frail, and worn in 
 body, yet Tanganyika is no more than a place for a 
 brief rest. And while resting he finds things to 
 see, to learn, to record, to wonder at. There is no 
 
DRAWING THE MAP OF AFRICA 233 
 
 mention of convalescence, but instead details are set 
 down, about the country, about longitude and lati- 
 tude. There are hints that he is studying a new 
 dialect. There is information that rests on real 
 research and patient labor. Then, being strong 
 again, he is on the road once more, as set to his duty 
 as was Carlyle's stout-hearted Abbot Samson. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 LIVINGSTONE AND STANLEY 
 
 IN THE middle of October, 1869, when Living- 
 Stone was preparing to explore the Lualaba, and 
 when uncredited reports as to his murder were in the 
 air, two men in Paris spun a thread that was finally 
 woven into the pattern of the explorer's Hfe. 
 
 One of those men was Henry Morton Stanley, 
 originally John Rowlands, a Welsh boy, born in 
 1 841, who had sailed to New Orleans as cabin boy 
 and there had been adopted by the merchant whose 
 name he took. He had fought in the Confederate 
 army, had been taken prisoner, had enlisted in the 
 United States Navy and became acting ensign on 
 board the Ticonderoga. He had been in Asia Minor, 
 and had acted as special correspondent for the 
 New York Herald, winning a name by sending to his 
 paper an account of Lord Napier's victory in advance 
 of the official report, and during the Carlist war he 
 had reported events for the same newspaper. 
 
 The other man was James Gorden Bennett, a 
 New Yorker, born in the same year as Stanley, who 
 became managing editor of the New York Herald in 
 1866, and the proprietor of the newspaper on the 
 death of his father. Bennett was a journalist, and 
 something more. He was a man of individual 
 
 234 
 
LIVINGSTONE AND STANLEY 235 
 
 initiative and individual impress. There was a sort 
 of pugnacity in him. His father had carried journal- 
 ism to high efficiency, and the son followed the 
 father and built well on the foundations laid. Under 
 the father, the New York Herald had achieved a kind 
 of revolution in journalism by publishing stock- 
 market reports and financial articles daily. The 
 son organized a system of weather reports valuable to 
 those in the shipping industry. He fitted out the 
 Jeannette Polar Expedition in 1879 under command 
 of Lieut. De Long, U. S. N. In company with John 
 W. Mackay, he organized the Commercial Cable 
 Company. The New York Evening Telegram was 
 established by him, as also daily editions of the New 
 York Herald in Paris and London. Those activities 
 were subsequent to the interest taken in Livingstone, 
 but illustrate well the character and enterprise of the 
 man. Before the meeting with Stanley in Paris, he 
 had done startling things, as, for instance, taking 
 part in a transatlantic yacht race in 1866, when his 
 schooner, the Henrietta, made the trip from Sandy 
 Hook to the Needles in 13 days, 21 hours, and 55 
 minutes, winning against two opposing yachts. 
 There were other interesting things done by him, but 
 enough has been listed to get an idea of the man. 
 He was dynamic and propulsive. He was an execu- 
 tive. He was an expert in securing attention. He 
 was a deft manipulator of audiences. He was as 
 effective in keeping up a state of enthusiastic ex- 
 pectation as Barnum, or Napoleon, or Henry of 
 Navarre. 
 
236 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 It is important to understand the manner of man 
 he was, otherwise it would be difficult to understand 
 why, after he and Stanley met in October, 1869, when 
 Bennett had his machinery at a point of the utmost 
 efficiency, with money in plenty at his command, and 
 when Stanley was zealous and active, Stanley did 
 not arrive at Zanzibar until January 6, 1871, or meet 
 Livingstone until November 10, of that year. And 
 in that space of time, between October, 1869, and 
 November, 1871, the explorer was doing tremendous 
 things, often with only five men and in helpless agony. 
 There was a time when his attendants were only three, 
 for two were guilty of being absent without leave. 
 He walked thousands of miles, often on the verge of 
 starvation, often fever-racked, his feet ulcerated, 
 marching with slave trains sometimes, the witness 
 of slaughter and of cruelty, unable to communicate 
 with those of his own race. The explanation of what 
 seems a most unwarrantable delay Hes in this. With 
 James Gordon Bennett, business was business, and 
 what altruism there was was incidental. The ex- 
 pedition to find Livingstone was primarily a business 
 venture, not primarily a philanthropic or a charitable 
 cause. There was cold calculation in it, just as there 
 was cold calculation on the part of Christopher De 
 Haro when he undertook the financing of Magellan's 
 expedition; or as there was with Conrad Roth in 
 1579, when incidental things inured to the public 
 good because he tried to monopolize the pepper trade; 
 or when Boulton managed James Watt and thus 
 perfected the steam engine. 
 
LIVINGSTONE AND STANLEY 237 
 
 Doubtless, when James Gordon Bennett had the 
 idea of sending an expedition to Livingstone, there 
 was nothing more than that in his mind. There is 
 every evidence of single-mindedness in the conver- 
 sation as reported by Stanley, in his book How I 
 Found Livingstone: 
 
 "Bennett. Where do you think Livingstone is? 
 
 "Stanley. I really do not know, sir. 
 
 "Bennett. Do you think he is alive? 
 
 "Stanley. He may be and he may not be. 
 
 "Bennett. Well, I think he is alive, and that he can 
 be found, and I am going to send you to find him. 
 
 "Stanley. What! Do you really think I can find 
 Dr. Livingstone? Do you mean me to go to Central 
 Africa? 
 
 "Bennett. Yes; I mean that you shall go, and 
 find him wherever you may hear that he is, and to get 
 what news you can of him, and perhaps the old man 
 may be in want; — take enough with you to help 
 him should he require it. Of course, you will act 
 according to your own plans, and do what you think 
 best — but find Livingstone!" 
 
 A Httle later, when the question of financing the 
 expedition was touched upon, Bennett was the cold, 
 impassive man of affairs, conducting things on 
 strictest business principles, directly and rapidly. 
 He said: "Draw a thousand pounds now; and when 
 you have gone through that, draw another thousand, 
 and when that is spent draw another thousand, and 
 when you have finished that draw another thousand, 
 and so on; but find Livingstone." 
 
238 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 So far so good. It was good business for the New 
 York Herald, but business turned into channels of 
 general service. But there was the active brain 
 bubbhng with ideas. There was pubHc spirit, but a 
 spirit soon to be blended with something else. There 
 was the irresistible tendency to kill not only two 
 birds, but a covey of them, with one stone. Nor 
 must that aspect of things be neglected, especially as 
 Stanley has been criticized for failing to get to Living- 
 stone earlier than he did. The truth is that Stanley, 
 had he had free rein, would have relieved the tor- 
 tured explorer in all probability within six months 
 from the date on which he received his commission. 
 "Do you mean me to go straight on to Africa to 
 search for Dr. Livingstone .f"' he asked. 
 
 But by that time the man of enterprise had seen 
 visions. A vast scale of operations lay spread out 
 in his mind. He was the man of affairs stirred by 
 opportunity, so he began to enumerate. Stanley was 
 to find Livingstone, but there were other things for 
 him to do first. He was to attend the inauguration 
 of the Suez Canal; to go up the Nile; to find out the 
 facts about Sir Samuel Baker's mihtary expedition 
 to suppress the slave trade on the Nile. He was to 
 look around Lower Egypt and write a guide book 
 for tourists. Then there was Jerusalem, with cer- 
 tain discoveries reported as having been made by 
 Captain Warren; he was to look into that. Also 
 Constantinople and the pohtical friction between the 
 Khedive and the Sultan; that was to be seen and 
 written about. And the Crimean battlefields, and 
 
LIVINGSTONE AND STANLEY 
 
 the Caspian Sea. Then Persia and India, taking 
 Bagdad en route, with something of interest written 
 on the subject of the Euphrates Valley Railway. All 
 of which being done and written about, it would be 
 time to attend to Livingstone. 
 
 Amazing as it may seem, that was the schedule 
 made out by James Gordon Bennett, and from that 
 itinerary he did not move. It was an excellent piece 
 of pubhcity, but a mixture of motives was behind 
 his plan. Whatever of anxiety for Livingstone's 
 safety, whatever loyalty or devotion to Livingstone's 
 cause was in the man's mind, was thickly overlaid 
 by business considerations. The chivalrous aspect 
 of the cause was one thing, the strictly economic 
 feature another. What Bennett did was the out- 
 growth of an irresistible tendency, just as what 
 Livingstone did was the result of an irresistible 
 tendency, and if there is a problem in the Bennett 
 case, it is one for psychologists. 
 
 But still there is sympathy, a very real thing. 
 
 So Stanley did as he was told, and a month after 
 the talk with Mr. Bennett was at Port Said, attend- 
 ing the opening ceremonies of the Suez Canal. When 
 Stanley, still obeying orders, was in Egypt on 
 December 16, 1869, Livingstone was in sore straits 
 while trying to cross the river Luamo, where he was 
 opposed by obstinate natives who threatened his 
 life. At the time Stanley was in Jerusalem, at the 
 beginning of 1870, out in Africa there was the ex- 
 plorer with heart of flame, forever on his quest, but 
 too weak and sick with choleraic purgings to move. 
 
240 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 And on February 2, 1870, all England was startled 
 when it opened its morning Times and read this: 
 
 Sir: 
 
 The enclosed letter from my son-in-law, Captain 
 the Hon. Ernest Cochrane, commanding H. M. S. 
 Petrel on the west coast of Africa, is at your service. 
 It gives an account of the awful death which has 
 terminated Livingstone's career. 
 
 Your obedient servant, 
 Richard Doherty. 
 Red Castle, County of Donegal, Jan. 31st. 
 
 My dear Sir: 
 
 A few lines to tell you Dr. Livingstone has been 
 killed and burnt by the natives ninety days' journey 
 from the Congo. He passed through a native town 
 and was three days on his journey when the king of 
 the town died. The natives declared Livingstone 
 had bewitched him, sent after him and told him he 
 had witched their king and he must die. They then 
 killed him and burnt him. This news comes by a 
 Portuguese trader traveling that way. Livingstone 
 was on the lakes at the head of the Congo, making 
 his way to the Congo, where he was going to come 
 out. I believe this news to be true. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mr. Bennett's man was on his way to 
 Constantinople, and while he was in that city re- 
 porting the frictions of Sultan and Khedive, Living- 
 stone's daily fare was mainly maize flour, a digestion- 
 
LIVINGSTONE AND STANLEY 24I 
 
 destroying, energy-killing diet, and he wrote this in 
 his Journal: "I was too ill to go through mud waist 
 deep." He had trouble among his followers, too, and 
 at the time Stanley was in Persia, news hunting, the 
 explorer who had been so often tried and never found 
 wanting set this down in his agony when Amoda 
 and his wife Halima deserted: 
 
 "June 26th, 1870. Now my people failed me; 
 so, with only three attendants, Susi, Chuma, and 
 Gardner, I started off to the north-west for the 
 Lualaba." 
 
 Had it not been for those business considerations 
 which delayed the taking of necessities to Living- 
 stone But it is idle to speculate upon what 
 
 might have happened if something that did not hap- 
 pen had taken place. The hard facts are that the 
 never-shirking man, the man of invulnerable spirit 
 did suffer, and suffer grievously. For while Stanley, 
 bent on his given duty, was in India, David Living- 
 stone wrote this in his Journal: "For the first time 
 in my life my feet failed me; and now, having but 
 three attendants, it would have been unwise to 
 go farther in that direction. Instead of healing 
 quietly as heretofore, when torn by hard travel, 
 irritable-eating ulcers fastened on both feet, and I 
 limped back to Bambarre, on the 22d. . . 
 And again, under date of July 23, 1870, there is 
 this: "The sores on my feet now laid me up as 
 irritable-eating ulcers. If the foot were put to the 
 ground, a discharge of bloody ichor flowed, and the 
 same discharge happened every night with consider- 
 
242 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 able pain, that prevented sleep. The wailing of the 
 slaves tortured with these sores is one of the night 
 sounds of a slave camp; they eat through ever^'thing 
 — muscle, tendon, and bone, and often lame perma- 
 nently, if they do not kill. ... I have three 
 ulcers, and no medicine. . . Also this: 
 
 "Patience is all I can exercise; these irritable ulcers 
 hedge me in now, as did my attendant in June; but 
 all will be for the best, for it is in Providence, and not 
 in me." 
 
 Admitting the right of the man of business to do as 
 he pleased in putting Livingstone's relief at the tail 
 end of so much that was to be seen and written about 
 by his agent for the benefit of those agog for a new 
 sensation, yet any reader of the Livingstone Journals 
 must find himself taking a less materialistic view of 
 things when reading this passage, dated November 9, 
 1870, at a time when Stanley was saiUng between 
 Bombay and the Mauritius: "I long excessively to be 
 away and finish my work by the two lacustrine 
 rivers, Lualaba or Webb and Young, but wait only 
 for Syde and Dugumbe, who may have letters. 
 . . . I groan, and am in bitterness at the delay, 
 but thus it is; I pray for help to do what is right, but 
 surely I am perplexed, and grieve and mourn; I 
 cannot give up making a complete work of the 
 exploration." And again, we find this pleading cry 
 from the heart of the man, on the first day of the 
 year, 1871, five days before Stanley reached Zanzi- 
 bar: "O Father! help me to finish this work to Thy 
 honor!" 
 
LIVINGSTONE AND STANLEY 243 
 
 Stanley, once in Africa and on the quest, lost no 
 time, either in preparing his outfit or in acquainting 
 himself with the country. His outfit consisted of 
 five caravans, one hundred and ninety-two people, 
 twenty-seven asses, a cook, a tailor, boats, two 
 horses, and all kinds of necessities and luxuries. The 
 whole was underway by March 21, 1871, in five sepa- 
 rate bodies, the first of which started on February 
 6th. 
 
 Almost at the same time, Livingstone was in tree- 
 covered hills, at a village called Mobasilange. It 
 was an oasis in a desert of cruelty and suffering, in- 
 habited by children of nature with a certain poise 
 and dignity. The explorer's description is good to 
 read, the more because of a sense of comparative 
 comfort in the man after all that pain and turmoil: 
 "The main street lies generally east and west, to 
 allow the bright sun to stream his hot clear ray from 
 one end to the other, and lick up quickly the moisture 
 from the frequent showers which is not drawn off by 
 the slopes. A little verandah is often made in front 
 of the doors where the family gathers round a fire, 
 and while enjoying the heat needed in the cold which 
 always accompanies the first darting of the sun's rays 
 across the atmosphere, inhale the delicious air and 
 talk over their little domestic affairs. The various 
 shaped leaves of the forest all round the village are 
 spangled with myriads of dewdrops. The cocks 
 crow vigorously, and strut and ogle; the kids gambol 
 and leap on their dams quietly chewing their cud. 
 Other goats make believe fighting. Thrifty wives 
 
244 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 often bake their new clay pots in a fire made by 
 lighting a heap of grass roots; they extract salt from 
 the ashes, and so two birds are killed with one stone. 
 The beauty of this peaceful morning scene is in- 
 describable. Infancy gilds the fairy picture with its 
 own lines, and it is probably never forgotten, for the 
 young, taken up from slavers and treated with all 
 philanthropic missionary care and kindness, still 
 revert to the period of infancy as the fairest and 
 finest they have known. They would go back to 
 freedom and enjoyment as fast as would our own 
 sons of the soil, and be heedless of the charms of 
 hard work and no play, which we think so much 
 better for them if not for us." 
 
 And Livingstone, a month before, had received 
 something of the help and aid that he had asked 
 Dr. Kirk at Zanzibar to send him and that seemed 
 to have been so delayed. Though, to be sure, when 
 his help had arrived, he was disappointed to find that 
 the men were Banians, and full of that slavish spirit 
 to which he so strongly objected. To add to his 
 disappointment, they brought only one letter and 
 had lost forty. "The ten men are all slaves of the 
 Banians, who are British subjects, and they come 
 with a He in their mouth. They will not help me, and 
 swear the Consul told them not to go forward, but to 
 force me back. They swore so positively that I 
 actually looked again at Dr. Kirk's letter to see if his 
 orders had been rightly understood by me. But for 
 fear of pistol shot they would gain their own and 
 their Banian master's end — to baffle me completely. 
 
LIVINGSTONE AND STANLEY 245 
 
 They demand an advance of $i or ^6 a month, and 
 this is double freeman's pay at Zanzibar." Hov7- 
 ever, the pathfinder had something: his health w^as 
 better in the higher altitude and with good food; and 
 he was on his way again into the unexplored. 
 
 Into the country of the Manyuema he went, try- 
 ing to make friends with them to the end that he 
 might secure a canoe fleet and so find what there was 
 to find about the river Lualaba, and be enabled to 
 chart it on the map. But the natives feared him. 
 Alone and unarmed he went to a native market where 
 "there were over i,ooo people, carrying pots and 
 cassava grass cloth, fishes and fowls; they were 
 alarmed at my coming among them and were ready 
 to fly; many stood oflF in suspicion." And with that 
 suspicion there was another suspicion in his own camp. 
 For the slaves sent from Zanzibar refused to go on. 
 "I see no hope of getting on with them. Abed, heard 
 them plotting my destruction. If forced to go on 
 they would watch till the first difficulty arose with 
 the Manyuema, then fire off their guns, run away, 
 and as I could not run as fast as they, leave me to 
 perish. ... I cannot state how much I was 
 worried by those wretched slaves, who did much to 
 annoy me. . . . Hassani [a slave-trader] got 
 nine canoes and put sixty-five persons in these. I 
 cannot get one." So runs the Journal in May, and 
 things seem at a deadlock. "I fear I must march 
 on foot," he concludes. 
 
 Then there came blood-shedding. It was at the 
 village by the river he could not cross and could not 
 
246 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 travel along because of physical weakness and the 
 inimical attitude of natives, as well as because of the 
 opposition of his own men excepting the faithful five. 
 Amoda and Halima, it should be said, returned and 
 took up their duties. There were opposing slave- 
 traders, and there were jealousies and rivalries, with 
 the natives torn into conflicting parties. We have 
 a vision of Arabs firing on unarmed men and women, 
 shooting them as they tried to swim, burning villages 
 far and wide. There were men tiger-fierce, and there 
 were natives in terrified flight. And "the wish to 
 make an impression in the country as to the import- 
 ance and greatness of the newcomers was the most 
 potent motive." Only that and nothing more. 
 
 So Livingstone's hope of getting canoes vanished. 
 His Banian slaves, always hopeless, were impossible 
 after witnessing all that blood-letting, if indeed they 
 themselves were not by the sight of it made eager 
 for rapine. "I see nothing for it but to go back to 
 Ujiji [on Lake Tanganyika] for other men, though it 
 will throw me out of the chance of discovering the 
 fourth great lake in the Lualaba line of drainage, and 
 other things of great value. . . . It is a sore 
 aflSiction, at least forty-five miles in a straight line — 
 equal to three hundred miles, or, by the turnings and 
 windings, six hundred English miles, and all after 
 feeding and clothing the Banian slaves for twenty-one 
 months. But . . . with help from above, I 
 shall yet go through Rua, see the underground ex- 
 cavations first, then on to Katanga, and the four 
 ancient fountains eight days beyond, and after that 
 
LIVINGSTONE AND STANLEY 247 
 
 Lake Lincoln. . . . The terrible scenes of man's 
 inhumanity to man brought on severe headache, 
 which might have been serious had it not been re- 
 lieved by a copious discharge of blood. I was laid up 
 all yesterday afternoon with the depression the blood- 
 shed made — it filled me with unspeakable horror." 
 
 So on July 20, 1871, he started eastward to Ujiji, 
 the great slave-trade market, where he hoped to find 
 food and necessities as sent from Zanzibar, and with 
 them be enabled to move on. But the way was 
 dangerous because of the fear in the natives' hearts. 
 White men had brought death to them and their 
 fellows, and one white man looked very much like 
 another. In some places there was stone-throwing. 
 In thick jungle all day, there was that traveling of 
 the unseen enemy in a parallel course, and the ever- 
 present sense of danger. "A slight rustle in the 
 dense vegetation meant a spear," writes Livingstone. 
 Once, "a large spear from my right lunged past and 
 almost grazed my back, and stuck firmly into the 
 soil." Again: "Another spear was thrown at me by 
 an unseen assailant, and it missed me by about a foot 
 in front. Guns were fired into the dense mass of 
 forest, but with no effect, for nothing could be seen; 
 but we heard the men jeering and denouncing us 
 close by; two of our party were slain." 
 
 From July 20th to October 23d, there was weary 
 travel and dangerous, with such vexations as these: 
 roads covered with angular fragments of quartz very 
 sore to feet; two men sick; people falsely accused of 
 stealing; equinoctial gales; ill all night; two days' rest 
 
248 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 from weakness; calico; telescope; umbrella and five 
 spears lost by one of the slaves throwing down the 
 load and taking up his own bundle of country cloth; 
 "five hours of running the gauntlet waylaid by spear- 
 men who all felt that if they killed me they would be 
 revenging the death of relations." 
 
 But he reached Ujiji, reduced to a skeleton, and 
 making inquiries respecting the goods sent there from 
 Zanzibar, found that there was not "a single yard of 
 calico out of three thousand, nor a string of beads 
 out of seven hundred pounds." For one Shereef, 
 "a moral idiot," had divined on the Koran and the 
 Fates had declared that Livingstone was dead. So 
 Shereef, without a shadow of right, had sold all, and 
 Livingstone was a beggar in a land of enemies, un- 
 able to pay those in his train, unable to go forward 
 to do his work. 
 
 And what had he done? \Vhzt was the net result 
 of all this wandering, all this criss-crossing of tracks, 
 all this going back and forth? It is well to take stock 
 for a moment. In taking stock, a crude comparison 
 may help. 
 
 Suppose an intelligent beetle had resolved to under- 
 stand the topography of a couple of hundred acres of 
 broken land. Suppose the beetle had decided to learn 
 whether this rivulet and that were separate and dis- 
 tinct, or ran together to make a creek. Suppose 
 within the compass of those hundreds of acres, the 
 beetle, with its limited means of locomotion, had 
 measured hills, had walked the length and width of 
 
LIVINGSTONE AND STANLEY 
 
 249 
 
 a ridge here and another there to decide whether it 
 was a table-land or a series of ridges. Suppose, in a 
 word, the beetle mapped and measured and charted 
 the hundred acres, and all so thoroughly that from 
 its penned results a relief map could be made, correct 
 in its important elements. Something Uke that 
 Livingstone did in Central Africa, afoot, living on 
 I the land, almost unaided and often opposed. — 
 He showed that in Central Africa there was a 
 mighty watershed stretching east and west between 
 latitudes 10° and 12° South — a forest-clad belt 700 
 miles wide. On a plateau with an elevation above 
 sea-level of from 4,000 to 5,000 feet there were moun- 
 ! tains from 5,000 to 6,000 feet above sea-level. On 
 this high land rose many streams, which on the north 
 ' side converged and met in lowlands which Living- 
 stone suspected formed the Nile valley. In this 
 valley were three large rivers which united in "an 
 ; enormous lacustrine river"to use Livingstone's words. 
 ' That swamp river was the Lualaba — Webb's Lualaba 
 ' he called it, to distinguish it from other rivers of the 
 ' same name, and to honor his friend, Webb of New- 
 , stead Abbey. In that valley he found five great 
 I lakes, Tanganyika, Kamolondo, Moero, Bangweolo, 
 and Nyassa. Bemba or Bangweolo received the 
 I river Chambezi and had an outlet by the Luapula, 
 i which eventually flowed into Lake Moero; from Lake 
 t Moero poured Webb's Lualaba, which, after a tortu- 
 I ous course, fell into Lake Kamolondo. The second 
 I of the rivers to make the lacustrine river was the 
 : Lufira, which fell into the Lualaba north of Kamolon- 
 
 1 
 
250 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 do. The third tributary to the swamp river was the 
 Lomami, which flowed from a lake to the west of 
 Kamolondo; Lake Lincoln, it was named by Living- 
 stone. The three united rivers then flowed north- 
 ward to an unknown lake, and it was that unknown 
 which Livingstone sought when he turned to Ujiji. 
 As he saw it, there were about 180 miles of country to 
 explore and his task would be done. Then he would 
 know, definitely, whether all this water system had 
 to do with the head waters of the Nile or with the 
 Congo. 
 
 There were other questions to be answered. Had 
 Lake Tanganyika an outlet at its northern end? 
 What was the course of the Lualaba after it left the 
 unknown lake? What of the possible and early 
 establishment of a clean, white-ruled settlement in 
 Africa? What of the breaking up of the slave trade? 
 So, as we see, Livingstone forestalled Cecil Rhodes. 
 Indeed, Rhodesia's capital was finally set on a spot 
 that Livingstone, in his mind's eye, had seen peopled 
 by a strong and forward-looking race. 
 
 Under the date October 24, 1871, Livingstone 
 records this: "When my spirits were at their lowest 
 ebb, the good Samaritan was close at hand, for one 
 morning Susi came running at the top of his speed 
 and gasped out, 'An Englishman! I see him!' and 
 off he darted to meet him. The American flag at the 
 head of a caravan told of the nationahty of the 
 stranger. Bales of goods, baths of tin, huge kettles, 
 cooking pots, tents, etc., made me think 'This must 
 
LIVINGSTONE AND STANLEY 2^1 
 
 be a luxurious traveler, and not one at his wits' 
 end like me.'" The actual date was October i8, 
 1 871, and Stanley's account runs thus: "We were 
 now about three hundred yards from the village of 
 Ujiji, and the crowds are dense about me. Suddenly 
 I hear a voice on my right say, 
 "'Good-morning, sir!' 
 
 "Startled at hearing this greeting in the midst of 
 such a crowd of black people, I turn sharply around in 
 search of the man, and see him at my side, with the 
 blackest of faces, but animated and joyous — a man 
 dressed in a long white shirt, with a turban of Ameri- 
 can sheeting around his woolly head, and I ask: 
 
 "'Who the mischief are you?' 
 
 "'I am Susi, the servant of Dr. Livingstone,' said 
 he, smiling, and showing a gleaming row of teeth. 
 
 "'What! Is Dr. Livingstone here?' 
 
 "'Yes, sir.' 
 
 "'In this village?' 
 
 "'Yes, sir.' 
 
 "'Are you sure?' 
 
 "'Sure, sure, sir. Why, I leave him just now.' 
 '"Good-morning, sir,' said another voice. 
 "'Hallo,' said I, 'is this another one?' 
 '"Yes, sir.' 
 
 "'Well, what is your name?' 
 "'My name is Chumah, sir.' 
 '"What! Are you Chumah, the friend of Weko- 
 tani?' 
 
 '"Yes, sir.' 
 
 '"And is the Doctor well?' 
 
252 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 "'Not very well, sir.' 
 
 . . Now you, Susi, run and tell the Doctor 
 I am coming.' . . . and off he darted like a 
 madman. . . ." 
 
 Then Selim, Stanley's attendant, said to his mas- 
 ter, "I see the Doctor, sir. Oh, what an old man! 
 He has got a white beard." And Stanley, in the 
 delight of triumph and success, emotional at heart, 
 good, and honest, was suddenly strangely ashamed 
 of an appearance of sentiment. Like a sound, 
 wholesome fellow, he tells us quite frankly and un- 
 affectedly about himself and his feelings: "What 
 would I not have given for a bit of friendly wilder- 
 ness, where, unseen, I might vent my joy in some 
 mad freak, such as idiotically biting my hand, turn- 
 ing a somersault, or slashing at trees, in order to allay 
 those exciting feelings that were well-nigh uncon- 
 trollable. My heart beats fast, but I must not let 
 my face betray my emotions, lest it shall detract 
 from the dignity of a white man appearing under 
 such extraordinary circumstances. So I did that 
 which I thought was most dignified. I pushed back 
 the crowds, and, passing from the rear, walked down 
 a Hving avenue of people, until I came in front of the 
 semi-circle of Arabs, in the front of which stood the 
 white man with the gray beard. As I advanced 
 slowly towards him I noticed he was pale, looked 
 wearied, had a gray beard, wore a bluish cap with a 
 faded gold band round it, had on a red-sleeved waist- 
 coat, and a pair of gray tweed trousers. I would 
 have run to him, only I was a coward in the presence 
 
LIVINGSTONE AND STANLEY 
 
 253 
 
 of such a mob; would have embraced him, only, he 
 being an Englishman, I did not know how he would 
 receive me; so I did what cowardice and false pride 
 suggested was the best thing — walked dehberately 
 to him, took off my hat, and said: 
 
 "'Dr. Livingstone, I presume?* 
 
 "'Yes,* said he, with a kind smile, lifting his cap 
 slightly. 
 
 "I replace my hat on my head, and he puts on his 
 cap, and we both grasp hands, and I then say aloud: 
 
 '"I thank God, Doctor, I have been permitted to 
 see you.' 
 
 "He answered: *I feel thankful that I am here to 
 welcome you.'" 
 
 There is the ring of sincerity about that report of 
 Stanley's meeting with Livingstone. No cant or 
 talk about impressive deeds done; no oratory or 
 resonant phrases written long after the event, of a 
 kind to deceive only those who "wish to be deceived. 
 But just plain, downright bashfulness — and, doubt- 
 less, for an hour or so, stiffness and angularity when 
 they were alone. And yet, behind all, delicate feel- 
 ings deep down, and an appreciation too fine to be 
 talked about. 
 
 But the strangeness wore off in time, though not 
 so rapidly as it would in the case of men accustomed 
 to rub elbows with those of their own kind, in daily 
 intercourse. A habit of what may be called fortifica- 
 tion against surprise grows in the lone man, and, 
 also, exhibitions of emotion are sparingly indulged. 
 
254 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 Hence a difficulty. "I am not of demonstrative 
 turn," writes Livingstone, reporting the meeting 
 and those first hours. 
 
 Stanley gives a picture of the two of them trying 
 to establish a sense of contact and geniality, with a 
 prefatory asking of questions. Then they settled 
 down a little, and Livingstone listened while his mail 
 lay unopened, Stanley telling of world events "and 
 enacting the part of an annual periodical," with swift 
 summaries of the completion of the Pacific Railroad, 
 the election of Grant as president, the end of the 
 rebellion in Crete, the revolution in Spain and the de- 
 thronement of Isabella, the annexation of Schleswig- 
 Holstein, the humbling of Denmark, the surrounding 
 of Paris, France with her head bowed low, the affair 
 of the Alabama claims, how bicycles and tricycles had 
 come into use, how Fenians had been active, and how 
 there had been strikes and riots in coal-mining dis- 
 tricts, how gaslight was being tried for use in hght- 
 houses, of the doings of one James Fisk in New York, 
 of the discovery of diamonds in South Africa. 
 
 While talking, Stanley was reading history, learn- 
 ing much more than words could tell. For Living- 
 stone was quiet, but "every hair of his head and 
 beard, every wrinkle of his face, the wanness of his 
 features, and the slightly wearied look he wore^ were 
 all imparting intelligence," wrote Stanley. His dress 
 "exhibited traces of patching and repairing, but was 
 scrupulously clean." 
 
 Stanley had been led to believ,e that Livingstone 
 was a man difficult to get along with, fractious and 
 
LIVINGSTONE AND STANLEY 255 
 
 fitful, quarrelsome, dogmatic, dour, and much more. 
 The scandal-loving tongues of moral degenerates 
 had been busy, and it was reported on the coast and 
 elsewhere that the explorer had made alliance with a 
 negress — that he was the consort of an African 
 princess — that he had grown rich trading with 
 natives. But Stanley had eyes to see and a heart to 
 feel, and there was the man before him. No words 
 were needed. The old lion had come triumphant 
 through crisis and trial. The fiber of him was sweet 
 and wholesome. Stanley saw the man as one un- 
 complaining, looking upon hunger and hardship and 
 sickness and pain as little more than shadows through 
 which he had to pass on his way to the goal. "His 
 gentleness never forsakes him," Stanley wrote. 
 "His hopefulness never deserts him. . . . To 
 duty ... he sacrificed his home and ease, the 
 pleasures, refinements, and luxuries of civilized life. 
 His is the Spartan heroism, the inflexibility of the 
 Roman, the enduring resolution of the Anglo-Saxon 
 — never to relinquish his work, though his heart 
 yearns for home; never to surrender his obhgations 
 until he can write Finis to his work. . . . His 1 
 religion is not of the theoretical kind, but is a con- 
 stant, earnest, sincere practice. It is neitlier demon- 
 strative nor loud, but manifests itself in a quiet, 
 practical way, and is always at work. ... It 
 governs his conduct. . . . Religion has made 
 him the most companionable of men and indulgent of 
 masters — a man whose society is pleasurable to a 
 I degree." 
 
256 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 There is this again: "Whenever he began to laugh, 
 there was a contagion about it. . . . It was a 
 laugh of the whole man from head to foot. . . . 
 The wan features which had shocked me at first 
 meeting, the heavy step which told of age and hard 
 travel; the gray beard and bowed shoulders, behed 
 the man. Underneath that well-worn exterior lay 
 an endless fund of high spirits and inexhaustible 
 good-humor; that rugged frame of his enclosed a 
 young and most exuberant soul. Every day I heard 
 innumerable jokes and pleasant anecdotes. . . . 
 I was not sure at first but this joviality, humor, and 
 abundant animal spirits were the result of a joyous 
 hysteria; but as I found they continued while I was 
 with him, I was obliged to think them natural." 
 Reading that passage, there comes to mind Living- 
 stone's youthful letter to Mr. Cecil, in which, at a 
 time of inward questionings, he wondered why he 
 was happy and hght-hearted, saying that he felt 
 himself to be "in a great deal more danger from 
 levity than from melancholy." It is abundantly 
 clear that the splendor of cheerfulness never left him. 
 The common-sense explanation of his gaiety is that 
 the man entered so fully into the joy of life itself that 
 he could not take things ruefully, or heavily, or 
 sorrowfully. Nor can anyone in whom the sap of 
 Hfe runs strongly. Indeed, I repeat, had the man 
 taken things heavily, he could never have accom- 
 plished a fraction of the things he did accompHsh. 
 
 Another thing noticed by Stanley was the flow of 
 happy fragrant memories which came from Living- 
 
LIVINGSTONE AND STANLEY 257 
 
 Stone. He was amazed to discover in one who had 
 spent his life in the company of untutored natives so 
 pleasant and refreshing a companion. Also he was 
 struck with wonder because of that store of knowledge 
 which Livingstone possessed, though he had no book 
 but the Bible in his possession. So Stanley wrote 
 this: . . another thing which specially at- 
 tracted my attention was his wonderfully retentive 
 memory. If we remember the many years he has 
 spent in Africa, deprived of books, we may well think 
 it an uncommon memory that can recite whole 
 poems from Byron, Burns, Tennyson, Longfellow, 
 Whittier, and Lowell. ... He has lived in a 
 world which revolved inwardly, out of which he 
 seldom awoke except to attend to the immediate 
 practical necessities of himself and people; then re- 
 lapsed again into the same happy inner world, which 
 he must have peopled with his own friends, relations, 
 acquaintances, famihar readings, ideas and associa- 
 tions, so that, wherever he might be, by whatsoever 
 he might be surrounded, his own world always pos- 
 sessed more attractions to his cultured mind than 
 were yielded by external circumstances." 
 
 Thus, then, the impressions of the last white man 
 to see the explorer in life. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE LAST MARCH 
 
 E PICTURE pleasant times after the first 
 
 V V shock of meeting, with the reed-thatched house 
 at Ujiji a very palace of joy. They celebrated their 
 meeting with a bottle of Sillery champagne, drinking 
 out of silver goblets. Friendship, presently, must 
 have seemed the greatest reality in the world. And 
 as Livingstone talked, he seemed to be full of memo- 
 ries of happiness. There were well-cooked meals, too, 
 a strange change for the man who had lived for so 
 long on maize that he had loosened his teeth "trying 
 to grind the grains." There were pleasant things, 
 such as tablecloths, and knives and forks and plates, 
 cups and saucers and silver spoons, a silver teapot 
 and a Persian rug and a bathtub. 
 
 And they argued and debated over plans, Living- 
 stone resolutely refusing to go to England until his 
 work was finished, Stanley, soon somewhat be- 
 wildered by the complexity of things, trying to per- 
 suade him. But there was very little hesitating on 
 Livingstone's part, and while plans and proposals 
 were seriously weighed and considered, he came to a 
 swift decision, thus. With Stanley, he would explore 
 the Tanganyika by water, then he would do what he 
 had to do. "I would very much like to go home and 
 
THE LAST MARCH 
 
 259 
 
 see my children," Stanley reports him as saying: 
 "But I cannot bring my heart to abandon the task I 
 have undertaken, when it is so nearly completed. It 
 only requires six or seven months more to trace the 
 true source that I have discovered with Petherick's 
 branch of the White Nile, or with the Albert N'Yanza 
 of Sir Samuel Baker which is the lake called by the 
 natives Chowambe. Why should I go home before 
 my task is ended, to have to come back again to do 
 what I can very well do now?" Thus spoke the in- 
 domitable warrior, nor, as Stanley knew, was there a 
 step in his programme which would not be carried 
 out as planned. The most he would concede was 
 that Stanley might accompany him to Unyanyembe, 
 or Tabora as it was otherwise called, a native town 
 about 220 air miles due east of Ujiji. There Living- 
 stone could wait until Stanley sent up from the coast 
 necessary supplies, and fifty or sixty good men, not 
 slaves. But first, they would explore the Lake 
 Tanganyika together. 
 
 They did that, and the canoe they used was a great 
 one, with a capacity of twenty-five men and pro- 
 visions for a week. Stanley hints at a scene of ex- 
 traordinary beauty; of blurring softness of wooded 
 and grassy hills reflected in green waters; of drowsy 
 warm air and violet horizons; of flowering slopes 
 from which came scent-laden breezes; of brooding 
 bays where wondering natives lived; of valleys with 
 dim untried paths; of deep ravines and quiet pools. 
 An apprentice in that kind of travel, he somewhat 
 magnified. But for Livingstone, the expedition was 
 
26o 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 no more than "a picnic." The geographical results 
 were a proving that there was no outlet for the 
 Tanganyika to the north, and that the river Rusizi 
 flowed into it. The trip was not adventureful, yet 
 not without incident. There had been incipient 
 friction with natives, but always Livingstone had 
 smoothed matters over with a word, a command, 
 some piece of quick action. Given a moment of dis- 
 turbance, he would leap back swiftly to order. 
 Stanley, newer to the business, perhaps nervous be- 
 cause of fever, would have tried harsh measures, but 
 Livingstone's was always the restraining hand. 
 
 For instance, Stanley records this: "About halfway 
 between Cape Kisanwe and Murembeve . . . 
 [the natives] . . . cabled to us to come ashore, 
 threatening us with the vengeance of the great Wami 
 if we did not halt. . . . Finding threats of no 
 avail, they had recourse to stones, and flung them 
 at us in a most hearty manner. As one came within 
 a foot of my arm I suggested a bullet should be sent 
 in return . . . but Livingstone, though he said 
 nothing, showed clearly that he did not approve of 
 this." David Livingstone's account of the same 
 incident shows him passing over the aff"air as a mere 
 nothing: "Passed a very crowded population, the 
 men calling on us to land and be fleeced and insulted; 
 they threw stones, and one, apparently slung, Hghted 
 close to the canoe. . . . " 
 
 There is another interesting instance, with Living- 
 stone managing those about him, those of his party 
 and those not of it, with a sort of harmonious activity, 
 
THE LAST MARCH 
 
 261 
 
 all the while as plain and unemotional as Conrad's 
 Captain MacWhirr; and with Stanley in a state of 
 half-romantic excitement, writing about the "picnic" 
 and the incidental flurry whicli Livingstone glanced 
 at en passant, as if it all involved immeasurable 
 risks. Some have denounced Stanley as a sensation- 
 alist, but I think the difference in the accounts was 
 a matter of temperament and experience. Thus 
 Stanley: 
 
 "Our kettle was boiling for tea, and the men 
 had built a little fire for themselves, and had filled 
 their earthen pot with water for porridge, when our 
 lookouts perceived dark forms creeping towards 
 our bivouac. Being hailed, they came forward, and 
 saluted us with the native 'wake.^ Our guides ex- 
 plained that we were zvangwana (whites) and intended 
 to camp till morning, when, if they had anything to 
 sell, we would trade. They said they were rejoiced 
 to hear this, and after they had exchanged a few 
 words more — during which we observed that they 
 were taking notes of the camp — went away. Three 
 other parties followed, and retired in like manner. 
 We had good cause to be suspicious at this going back- 
 ward and forward, and, as our supper had been des- 
 patched, we thought it high time to act. The men 
 were hurried into the canoe, and when all were 
 seated, and the lookouts embarked, we quietly 
 pushed off, but not a moment too soon. As the canoe 
 glided from the darkened light that surrounded us, I 
 called the Doctor's attention to dark forms, some 
 crouching behind the rocks on our right, others 
 
262 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 scrambling over them, and directly a voice hailed us 
 from the top of the bank, under which we had lately 
 been resting. 'Neatly done,' said the Doctor, as 
 we shot through the water, leaving the discomfited 
 would-be robbers behind us. Here again my hand 
 was stayed from planting a couple of shots as a warn- 
 ing to them, by the presence of the Doctor." And 
 here is Livingstone's account: 
 
 "Landed under a cliff to rest and cook, but a crowd 
 came and made inquiries, then a few more came as if 
 to investigate more perfectly. They told us to sleep, 
 and to-morrow friendship should be made. We put 
 our luggage on board, and set a watch on the cliff. 
 A number of men came along cowering behind rocks, 
 and we slipped off quietly; they called after us as 
 men baulked of their prey." With that he dismisses 
 the incident. For in him was the Bunyan desire to 
 "set down the thing as it was," to be as simple and 
 direct as possible. Stanley, no less desirous of ac- 
 curacy, but more excitable and less experienced, saw 
 differently. 
 
 They reached Ujiji again December 14, 1871, and 
 rested there until December 27th, then embarked in a 
 couple of canoes, Livingstone and his five faithfuls in 
 one, Stanley and his men in the other. They cruised 
 to the south end of Tanganyika, and on January 7, 
 1872, left the lake and started inland. On February 
 1 8th, fifty-three days after they had left Ujiji, they 
 were in Unyanyembe, and the day of Livingstone's 
 farewell to the last white man he was destined to see 
 was at hand. 
 
THE LAST MARCH 
 
 263 
 
 Now men who are fifty days together must either j 
 be sullen and self-centered, or must learn to talk 
 freely of their interests and hopes and beliefs. They 
 must either think aloud and so give confidence and 
 awake affection, or they must walk side by side each 
 shut up within himself, stone walls of misunderstand- 
 ing between them. Livingstone and Stanley, crystal 
 clear to each other, soon found that fellowship which 
 is life, and each was to the other a pleasant and re- 
 freshing companion. They were drawn together by 
 many things, by the joys of toil and adventure, by 
 their mutual trust, by that fine perception which 
 must come when men are frank and free. 
 
 Suddenly there is this entry, made by Livingstone: 
 "March 14th. Mr. Stanley leaves. I commit to 
 his care my journal sealed with five seals; the im- 
 pressions on them are those of an American gold coin, 
 anna and half anna, and cake of paint with royal 
 arms. Positively not to be opened." 
 
 I think that Livingstone, with his stern, business- 
 Hke temperament, was more than half glad to be 
 alone again with his task. I think that the change 
 from companionship to solitude left him almost 
 grateful, and if there was any bitterness in the fare- 
 well, there was a sweetness also. The feeling of sor- 
 row and the grieving at severed ties would have come 
 with his leaving Africa and giving up that duty which 
 dominated him. Indeed, his body and mind were of 
 Africa's soil, of its water, of its air. Africa's problems 
 were his fife work. Even Stanley could really have 
 known neither the great vision of an enlightened and 
 
264 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 peaceful Africa that ruled Livingstone's mind nor the 
 something deep in him that always yearned for what 
 was farther, farther on. So one need not try to read 
 behind or between the Hnes of that entry. Bidding 
 farewell to Stanley, what was in the explorer's mind 
 was a tremendous relief that the record of things done 
 was on its way to England, and that because of the 
 dreadful brevity of Hfe and the pressing things all 
 about, anything that made nearer his journey into 
 the unknown, was to be welcomed with eagerness. 
 In that brief and hasty span of life, so much had 
 to be done. Recreation seemed trivial. For him 
 there were no wayside rests. There was only his ap- 
 pointed task. So we are prepared for this heart's 
 cry: "March igth. Birthday. My Jesus, my king, 
 my life, my all; I again dedicate myself wholly to 
 Thee. Accept me, and grant, oh, gracious Father, 
 that ere this year is gone I may finish my task. In 
 Jesus' name I ask it. Amen, so let it be. David 
 Livingstone." 
 
 The parting meant more to the romantic, eager, 
 impetuous Stanley; the emotional Stanley so full of 
 love and admiration and respect. The entry shows 
 a Stanley not afraid of his emotions, full of the rare 
 quality of friendship, grieving because of the stress of 
 fate and fortune which separated them, when he 
 would wilHngly have played an Amis to the other's 
 Amiel. 
 
 "At dawn we were up. The bales and baggage 
 were taken outside, and the men prepared them- 
 
 I 
 
THE LAST MARCH 
 
 265 
 
 selves for their first march homewards. We had a 
 sad breakfast together. I couldn't eat, my heart was 
 too full; nor did my companion seem to have any 
 appetite. We found something to do which kept 
 us together. At eight I was not gone, and I had 
 thought to have been off at five a.m. 'Doctor, I'll 
 leave two of my men. Maybe you've forgotten 
 something in the hurry. I'll halt a day at Tara for 
 your last word and your last wish. Now, we must 
 part. There's no help for it. Good-bye.' 
 
 "'Oh, I'm coming with you a little way. I must 
 see you on the road.' 
 
 '"Thank you. Now, my men, home! Kirangoze, 
 lift the flag. March!' 
 
 "On the walk Livingstone once more told his plans, 
 and it was settled that his men should be hired for 
 two years from arrival at Unyanyembe, to give ample 
 margin for the completion of his work. 
 
 "'Now, my dear Doctor, the best friends must 
 part. You have come far enough.' 
 
 "'Well, I will say this to you. You have done 
 what few men could do; far better than some great 
 travelers I know. And I am grateful to you for 
 what you have done for me. God guide you safe 
 home, and bless you, my friend.' 
 
 "'And may God bring you back safe to us all, my 
 dear friend. Farewell.' 
 
 "'Farewell.' 
 
 "We wrung each other's hands, and I had to tear 
 myself away before I was unmanned. But Susi, and 
 
266 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 Chumah, and Hamaydah, the Doctor's faithful 
 fellows, they must all shake and kiss my hands; be- 
 fore I could turn away, I betrayed myself." 
 
 Fifty-four days later, on the evening of May 6, 
 1872, Stanley and his men were in Bangamoyo again, 
 and there presented itself one of those strange tangles 
 in human afFairs that are dizzying to contemplate. 
 For Stanley ran into some of the members of the Liv- 
 ingstone Search and Relief Expedition, and out of the 
 meeting grew all kinds of arguments, petty personal- 
 ities, blunders, misunderstandings, charges and 
 counter charges. Lieutenant Llewellyn S. Dawson 
 had been in charge, originally, but on learning of 
 Stanley's meeting with Livingstone he had resigned. 
 So also had the Reverend Charles New, a missionary 
 from Mombasa, though New was fiery eager to go 
 forward. That left Lieutenant William Henn, R. N., 
 and Mr. Oswell Livingstone. There was a vast 
 amount of talking and suggesting, perhaps a clashing 
 of temperaments, and it was abundantly clear that 
 the Dawson expedition would be abandoned. The 
 newspapers of the day were foul with the dust of 
 argument, with this one and that of the party full of 
 fierceness, with Dr. Kirk angry and a little defiant be- 
 cause he felt the sting of Livingstone's reproach with 
 regard to the slaves he had sent as relief. Stanley, 
 it appears, was eager that Oswell Livingstone should 
 take charge of the caravan being prepared for the 
 explorer, but, writes Stanley: "Oswell Livingstone 
 changed his mind, and surprised me with a note stat- 
 
THE LAST MARCH 
 
 267 
 
 ing that he had decided not to go to Unyanyembe, 
 for reasons he thought just and sufficient." He con- 
 tinues: "I ventured to suggest that it was his duty to 
 go, since he had come so far as Zanzibar; but it was 
 evident he acted as he thought best. . . ." 
 
 From that flurry in Zanzibar an emotional wave 
 ran to England, across the Atlantic, and so over the 
 whole world. It developed into one of those ex- 
 traordinary acrimonious excitements, quite senseless 
 because in them wisdom and enlightenment have least 
 to say and men are roused to rankling anger quite 
 unnecessarily. Examples of this sort of thing are the 
 Sampson-Schley affair, the Charles Gordon-Glad- 
 stone controversy, the Cook-Peary-North Pole noise, 
 the trouble following Balaklava. History is full of 
 such grotesque displays of petty truculence. 
 
 Meanwhile, David Livingstone was waiting at 
 Unyanyembe — waiting, through the months of May, 
 and June, and July and up until the middle of August 
 before news of his men came. But there was other 
 news, a letter here and another there, passed from 
 hand to hand through the jungle. An entry record- 
 ing the receipt of one such document is read with a 
 shock. "June 2yth — i8y2 — Received a letter from 
 Oswell yesterday, dated Bagamoio, May 14th, which 
 awakened thankfulness, anxiety, and deep sorrow." 
 So his son had been only that distance from him — a 
 distance which a letter had passed over in six weeks! 
 Livingstone leaves many things concerning his own 
 thoughts untouched and untold, but in reading that 
 passage the imagination quickens. 
 
268 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 There is another entry about Oswell, dated July 
 3d, which runs: "Received a note from Oswell, 
 written in April last, containing the sad intelligence 
 of Sir Roderick's departure from among us. Alas! 
 alas! this is the only time I ever felt inclined to use the 
 word, and it bespeaks a sore heart. The best friend 
 I ever had — true, warm and abiding — he loved me 
 more than I deserved; he looks down on me still. I 
 must feel resigned to the loss by the Divine Will, but 
 still I regret and mourn. Wearisome waiting this; 
 and yet the men cannot be here before the middle 
 or end of this month. I have been sorely let and 
 hindered in this journey, but it may have been all for 
 the best. I will trust in Him to whom I commit my 
 way. 
 
 I do not think those letters left him unscathed. I 
 think that with the reading of them something went 
 out of his Hfe and left a shadow of disappointment 
 and of loss that chilled him to the end. In the Jour- 
 nal thereafter, incidents are not recorded with laugh- 
 ter and smiles. There were still ardent thoughts 
 and generous dreams, there was in him still the 
 beauty-loving spirit, but somehow he was like one 
 riding alone into the chill of darkened forests, the 
 novelty and delight of enchanted golden glades left 
 behind. 
 
 On August 4th, he writes: "The men came yester- 
 day, having been seventy-four days from Bagamoio. 
 Most thankful am I to the Giver of all good. I have 
 to give them a few days' rest and then start." And 
 
THE LAST MARCH 
 
 269 
 
 Stanley had done his task well, so well that Living- 
 stone was as full of gratitude as a father to a son. 
 "A dutiful son could not have done more than he 
 generously did. I bless him," he writes. Then, 
 with no less of a sharply defined personality at the 
 age of sixty than at the age of twenty-six, the execu- 
 tive in him active, he set to work parcelling out his 
 loads, fifty pounds weight and no more for each man. 
 On August 26, 1872, alert and hopeful once more, he 
 moved at the head of his men into the unknown. 
 
 But that new strength was fleeting. After three 
 weeks of marching we have this significant entry: "I 
 am ill with bowels, having eaten nothing for eight 
 days," and a little later, "inwardly I feel tired." 
 After that he was always in the shadow of ill-health. 
 
 There have been guesses hazarded to account for 
 his taking a southern route. Thomas Hughes was 
 of opinion that the explorer had pondered over the 
 story told to Herodotus by the priest of Minerva 
 at Sais, and was inclined to identify two unexamined 
 hills west of Bangweolo with Crophi and Mophi, 
 from which were said to flow two rivers, one north 
 through Egypt, the other to Ethiopia. Therefore 
 he wished to investigate. After that he would turn 
 north in search of the unknown lake, and so over 
 Lualaba and Tanganyika, to Ujiji, and so home. 
 
 Certainly we find him speculating on ancient 
 geography several times, sometimes with a passing 
 thought as if he would Hke to make a systematic 
 attempt to coordinate the facts with scriptural 
 
270 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 history of the times of Moses. While waiting for his 
 men and stores, he made an entry dated April 
 15th, which reveals a deep pondering over the semi- 
 legendary "fountains" of Ptolemy, thus: "Ptolemy's 
 geography of Central Africa seems to say that the 
 science was then (Second Century A. D.) in a state 
 of decadence from what was known to the ancient 
 Egyptian priests, as revealed to Herodotus six 
 hundred years before his day (or say B. C. 440). 
 They seem to have been well aware, by the accounts 
 of travelers or traders, that a great number of 
 springs contributed to the origin of the Nile, but 
 none could be pointed at distinctly as the "Foun- 
 tains," except those I long to discover. Ptolemy 
 seems to have gathered up the threads of ancient 
 explorations, and made many springs (six) flow into 
 two lakes situated east and west of each other — the 
 space above them being unknown. If the Victoria 
 Lake were large, then it and Albert would probably 
 be the lakes which Ptolemy meant, and it would be 
 pleasant to call them Ptolemy's sources, rediscovered 
 by the toil and enterprise of our countrymen, Speke 
 and Grant and Baker; but unfortunately Ptolemy 
 has inserted the small lake Coloe nearly where the 
 Victoria Lake stands, and one cannot say where his 
 two lakes are. Of lakes Victoria, Bangweolo,JVIoero, 
 Kamolondo, Lake Lincoln and Lake Albert, which 
 two did he mean ? The science in his time was in a 
 state of decadence. Were two lakes not the reHcs of 
 a greater number previously known ? What says the 
 most ancient map known of Sethos II's time?" 
 
THE LAST MARCH 
 
 271 
 
 In January of 1873, he and his party were in most 
 terrible country, swampy and stream lined, with cold 
 water, cold winds, and cold rain. There were rivers 
 to cross, over which Susi carried the explorer, "the 
 water coming to Susi's mouth." There were days 
 when they could not see the sun because of heavy 
 leaden clouds that scurried across the sky. For 
 miles they waded waist deep. When out of water 
 they were in unwholesome places where the soil smelt 
 offensive and there was rank vegetation. And the 
 doughty old warrior suffered all the time from 
 hemorrhages. Sometimes, it would seem that he 
 feared a fateful change in himself. At any rate, 
 there is a suspicion of vivid apprehension in a passage 
 written on April 23 d, though it may be presumptuous 
 to place a personal interpretation upon it. It ran: 
 "It must be a sore affliction to be bereft of one's 
 reason, and the more so if the insanity takes the form 
 of uttering thoughts which in a sound state we drive 
 from us as impure." 
 
 Nevertheless, he was determined, in spite of all, to 
 complete the perfect round. "Nothing earthly will 
 make me give up my work in despair," he writes. 
 "I encourage myself in the Lord my God, and go 
 forward." And this trumpet call to all the world at 
 the end of a letter to the New York Herald trying to 
 enlist American zeal against the East Coast slave 
 trade: "All I can add, in my loneliness, is, may 
 Heaven's rich blessing come down on every one, 
 American, English or Turk, who will help to heal the 
 open sore of the world. ' 
 
272 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 So, onward to the goal, a Httle bewildered some- 
 times by the complexity of things, as all men are; but 
 determined to struggle on though it had to be in 
 feebleness, very determined not to collapse in despair. 
 He went forward, shaking and trembling, but still 
 headed for his goal. "I am pale, bloodless, and weak, 
 from bleeding profusely ever since the 31st of March 
 last; an artery gives off a copious stream, and takes 
 away my strength. Oh, how I long to be permitted 
 J by the Over Power to finish my work." 
 
 We find the last entries, written in strong, de- 
 termined hand, swiftly, because he knew the tide was 
 ebbing fast: 
 
 "April 2ist — Tried to ride, but was forced to lie 
 down, and they carried me back to vil. exhausted. 
 "April 2 2d — Carried on kitanda over Buga S W 2j 
 "23d— Do., 1 1 
 
 "24th Do., I 
 "25th — Do., I 
 "26' —Do., 2\ 
 "Knocked up quite, and remain — recover — sent 
 to buy milch goats. We are on the banks of the 
 Molilamo." 
 
 Then the explorer dropped his pen. The march / 
 was ended and the battle done. The place was 
 Chitambo's village, on the Lulinala, in Ilala. 
 
 One of the little band, who loved Livingstone 
 dearly, had looked into the hut when the dawn was 
 breaking, and, seeing the man on his knees by his 
 bedside, his arms flung across the cot, supposed him 
 to be praying. Indeed, such a man might have died 
 
THE LAST MARCH 
 
 in the midst of his suppHcations, and we can well 
 imagine him, his heart unconquered though his body 
 grievously hurt, praying, "Dear God! A little longer, 
 ah! not yet!" 
 
 The lad, whose name was Majwara, listened for 
 the sound of breathing; then, full of fear at the 
 silence, ran to Susi, saying: "Come to Bwana. I 
 am afraid. I don't know if he is alive." Thereupon 
 Susi rose up and went into the hut, and saw for him- 
 self. And when he had seen he called the others, 
 telling them between the surges of his grief that the 
 leader had gone. Then, by the light of a candle, the 
 six performed sad offices, and the thing strange and 
 stark that was not Livingstone, and yet was Living- 
 stone all broken and undone, was laid upon the cot 
 and decently covered. 
 
 Around the watch fire in the chill of the morning, 
 the faithful took counsel together. They spoke of 
 the last days when the leader was faint with weariness 
 and pain; of how they had grieved because of his 
 sufferings, as they carried him. Susi, whispering, 
 told how at dusk he had gone in to the master, who 
 had asked, "Is this the Luapula?" Then there was 
 a moment of silence after Susi had said that they 
 were near the Molilamo, but only a moment. The 
 old fire that had consumed Livingstone ran through 
 his veins and woke him to life. "How many days 
 is it to the Luapula, Susi.?" he asked, and the answer 
 was given, "I think it is three days, master." After 
 that he drifted into sleep. 
 
274 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 Once in the night he woke and bade Susi prepare 
 some medicine and put it in a Httle cup, by his side. 
 When that was done, he thanked his man, and Susi 
 was sore grieved noting the feebleness of the voice 
 that said, "All right; you can go out now." So, 
 obedient to his master, Susi went outside to keep his 
 watch. 
 
 Around the watch fire many things that had hap- 
 pened during those last days were recalled; how they 
 had carried the master who was so pain-racked that 
 the swinging of the Utter was too much for him; how 
 a great thirst came on him at a time when there was 
 no water to be had; how, once, he had said, "Ah, now 
 we are near!"; how he had walked uncomplainingly, 
 then, while few suspected his extreme weakness, had 
 tired to ride an ass but could not, and at last con- 
 fessed, saying, "Chuma, I have lost so much blood, 
 there is no more strength in my legs. You must 
 carry me." But at night, no matter how toilsome 
 the day had been, the master had always written 
 down in his book the number of hours traveled, 
 though his hand had been too nerveless to do more. 
 
 But there were things to be done and the faithful 
 ones were not of the sort to sit dumbly making an 
 idol of their grief. Under that lost leadership they 
 had learned much of the value of good judgment, of 
 prudence, of steady, persistent effort. And responsi- 
 bilities devolved upon them. There were problems 
 to be met and sound common sense was needed. 
 The body of the leader had to be taken many many 
 hundreds of miles through the jungle and back over 
 
THE LAST MARCH 
 
 275 
 
 the trail by which they had come. It would have to 
 be carried over lands where were unfriendly tribes, 
 men full of strange superstitions and prejudices about 
 dead bodies. There would have to be an accounting 
 for things, for the master had always set down this 
 and that. And there would be terrible offices to 
 perform before the body of the explorer could be 
 carried to the sea. 
 
 So Jacob Wainwright took the master's notebook 
 and wrote this in the back, making his hst, as Susi 
 and Chuma set the things away in good order: 
 "In the chest was found about a shilling and a half, 
 and in other chest his hat, i watch, and 2 boxes of 
 measuring instrument, and in each box there was 
 one. I compass, 3 other kind of measuring instru- 
 ment. 4 other kind of measuring instrument. And 
 in other chest 3 drachmas and half a scruple. Jacob 
 Wainwright." 
 
 As for the body, it would have to be carried to 
 Zanzibar after being prepared, a journey of about 
 a thousand miles with the twistings and turnings, 
 through swamp and over mountain, across plateau 
 and through jungle, a harsh and fearful task, but not 
 to be neglected. 
 
 So, reverently the body was prepared, the viscera 
 decently interred at the foot of a mvula tree, Jacob 
 Wainwright reading the service for the Burial of the 
 Dead. Then there was a rough embalming of the 
 body by sun exposure and the use of salt, after which 
 it was wrapped, somewhat as mummies are, but 
 with the knees bent for convenience of carriage, and 
 
276 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 also to prevent suspicion on the part of hostile or 
 superstitious natives. 
 
 Over the grave the natives erected a monument of 
 wood in the form of door posts and Hntel, and on the 
 tree Jacob Wainwright carved an inscription. 
 
 After that it was just workaday plodding for the 
 men of that strange funeral procession. Sometimes 
 they were met with kindness, but at other times they 
 were threatened. Chuma often ran ahead of the 
 party as advance guard, and, assuring himself that 
 all was well, sped back to help carry the burden. 
 Thus it was that at Unyanyembe he told the tidings 
 to the first Englishman to hear them. It was 
 Lieutenant Cameron, in charge of a Livingstone 
 search party. That was October 20th, and the 
 natives had carried the body since the middle of 
 May. The British officer, astounded at the magni- 
 tude of the task accomplished, and mindful of what 
 remained to be done before the body could reach 
 Zanzibar, advocated the interment of the remains 
 then and there; but the bearers opposed the sugges- 
 tion, and, in recognition of their loyalty and fidelity. 
 Lieutenant Cameron did not insist further. Instead, 
 he sent two members of his expedition with the 
 funeral party. They were Dr. W. E. Dillon and 
 Lieutenant Cecil Murphy, and the journey ended in 
 the middle of March. Dr. Dillon, however, did not 
 reach the coast, for, unbalanced by fever and oph- 
 thalmia, he shot himself, on the way. 
 
 So the work of the faithful five, the indomitable 
 five, was done, and for a time, because of the grand 
 
THE LAST MARCH 
 
 277 
 
 emotions and heroics, those who had labored so nobly 
 without applause were overlooked. We have the 
 word of Mr. Horace Waller, Livingstone's friend, 
 for it that "no sooner did they arrive at their journey's 
 end than they were so far frowned out of notice, that 
 not so much as a passage to the island [Zanzibar] was 
 offered them when their burden was borne away." 
 For how should the world of zealous officialdom know 
 of or recognize their heroic service in the wilderness ? 
 How be aware of all that self-abnegation, that 
 obedience to their lord, that spirit so high that made 
 them reverence the frail and aged body and bear it 
 with untold hardship to themselves, so long and so 
 far ? For now was the day of pomp and circumstance 
 of hymns of praise, of regal dignity. 
 
 England took the body of her son whose heart 
 was in Africa, and carried it away. The one native 
 who was articulate, Jacob Wainwright, went with the 
 body to England. He was one of those sent by 
 Stanley to the explorer, and he had allied himself 
 nobly enough with the five who had been Living- 
 stone's faithful attendants in that eight-thousand- 
 mile journey in the wilderness. 
 
 On Saturday, April 18, 1874, the body of David 
 Livingstone was buried in Westminster Abbey. 
 There were pomp and parade, the ecstasy of liturgies, 
 the agony of spirit that comes from roUing music. 
 Greater honors could not have been awarded a king. 
 All England mourned, thoughtful men with a tighten- 
 ing of the heart, having in mind things left undone 
 which ought to have been done. 
 
278 
 
 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 But somehow, remembering all that the life of the 
 dark and silent heart meant, remembering the long 
 years of patient and scrupulous toil, remembering 
 the struggle and the effort and the hardship, re- 
 membering that self-effacement at the moment of 
 triumph and success, remembering his sympathy 
 and loving kindness, and remembering that last 
 pilgrimage, it seems to me that a shadow would fall 
 on this page if the faithful five were left unnamed. 
 For they were the salt of the earth to David Liv- 
 ingstone. Theirs were virile virtues. 
 
 They were: 
 
 Susi, Livingstone's body servant, a man of ardent 
 devotion. 
 
 Chuma, the Nassick boy, a friend of fighting blood. 
 Amoda, one of the slaves released in fight. 
 Gardner, a Nassick boy, practical and conscien- 
 tious. 
 
 Halima, the wife of Amoda, whose freedom Living- 
 stone promised to secure when the work was done. 
 
 These were his servitors, his companions, his 
 friends; these were tried and well proven in sickness 
 and in sorrow and, at last, in death. 
 
 THE END 
 
APPENDIX I 
 
 A SHORT OUTLINE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE'S LIFE 
 
 1813 Mar. 19th: Bom at Blantyre Works, Lanarkshire, Scot- 
 land. 
 
 1823-1836 Worked in a cotton mill. 
 
 1838 Accepted by London Missionary Society. 
 
 1840 Medical degree from Faculty of Physicians and Surgeons, 
 
 Glasgow. 
 Dec. 8th: Sailed for Africa. 
 
 1841 July 31st: Arrived at Dr. Moffat's station, Kuruman. 
 1844 Married and settled at Mabotsa. 
 
 1849 Desert journey to Lake Ngami. 
 
 1852 At Cape Town with family. 
 
 1853 May 23d: At Linyanti. 
 
 Nov. iith: Left Linyanti for the Atlantic coast. 
 
 1854 May 31st: Reached Atlantic coast. 
 Sept. 20th: Left Atlantic coast. 
 
 1855 Sept. iith: Reached Linyanti. 
 
 Nov. 3d: Left Linyanti for east coast. 
 Nov. 14th: Discovered Victoria Falls. 
 l8t:6.-,^av 20th: Reached QuiHmane on east coast. 
 Dec I2th: Reached England. 
 
 1857 Missionary Travels published. 
 
 Resigned from London Missionary Society. 
 
 1858 Mar. loth: Left England. 
 
 May 14th: Reached mouth of Zambesi. 
 
 1859 Apr. 18th: Discovered Lake Shirwa. 
 Sept. i6th: Discovered Lake Nyassa. 
 
 1861 Bishop Mackenzie Mission. 
 
 1862 Apr. 27th: Death of Mary Moffat Livingstone. 
 
 1864 June 13th: Reached Bombay. 
 July loth: Reached London. 
 
 1865 Narrative of an Expedition to Zambesi published. 
 
 279 
 
28o 
 
 APPENDIX I 
 
 Aug. 15th: Left London. 
 Sept.: Reached Bombay. 
 
 1866 Apr. 4th: Started into interior from the mouth of the 
 
 Rovuma. Reported dead. 
 
 1867 July 9th: Young search expedition sailed. 
 Nov. 8th: Discovered Lake Moero. 
 
 1868 July 1 8th: Discovered Lake Bang^veolo. 
 
 1869 Livingstone at Luamo River country. 
 
 1870 Feb. 2nd: Again reported dead. 
 Explored Lualaba. 
 
 1 871 Jan. 6th: Stanley reached Zanzibar. 
 Livingstone at Mobasilange. 
 
 July 20th: Livingstone starts for Ujiji. 
 
 Oct. 1 8th: Meeting of Livingstone and Stanley. 
 
 Nov. and Dec. : Exploration of Lake Tanganyika. 
 
 1872 Mar. 15th: Parted with Stanley at Unyanyembe. 
 Aug. 26th: Left Unyanyembe on last trip. 
 
 1873 May 1st: Died in Ilala. 
 
 1874 Apr. i8th: Buried in Westminster Abbey. 
 
APPENDIX II 
 
 A SHORT LIST OF BOOKS 
 
 By David Livingstone: 
 
 Missionary Travels and Researches in South Africa. 1857 
 Narrative of an Expedition to the Zambesi and Its Tributaries 
 
 (with Charles Livingstone). 1865 
 Last Journals of David Livingstone in Central Africa, edited 
 
 by the Rev. Horace Waller. 1874. 
 Despatches to the Foreign Office. 
 
 Blaikie. Livingstone's Personal Life. 1880. 
 Hughes. David Livingstone. 1906. 
 
 Johnston. Livingstone and the Exploration of Central Africa. 
 1897. 
 
 London Missionary Society. Publications, from 1840. 
 Machlachlan. David Livingstone. 1900. 
 Royal Geographical Society. Journal and Proceedings. 
 Stanley. How I Found Livingstone iri Central Africa. 1872. 
 Stanley. Autobiography. 1909. 
 
 Moffat. The Lives of Robert and Mary Moffat. 1885. 
 
 281 
 
APPENDIX III 
 
 Report of Livingstone's death, based on Musa's story, made to Lord 
 Clarendon, Minister of Foreign Affairs, by Dr. G. E. Seward, 
 Consul at Zanzibar 
 
 Dated from Zanzibar, December loth, 1866. 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 I send you the saddest news. Dr. Livingstone in his dispatch 
 from Ngomano, informed your Lordship that he stood "on the 
 threshold of the unexplored." Yet, as if that which should be- 
 tide him had already thrown its shadow, he added: "I have but 
 little to say of the future." 
 
 My Lord, if the report of some fugitives from his party be true, 
 this brave and good man has "crossed the threshold of the un- 
 explored" — he has confronted the future and will never return. 
 He was slain, so it is alleged, during a sudden and unprovoked 
 encounter with those very Zulus of whom he says, in his dispatch, 
 that they had laid waste the country round about him, and had 
 "swept away the food from above and in the ground." With 
 an escort reduced to twenty, by desertion, deaths, and dismissals, 
 he had traversed, as I believe, that terra incognita between the 
 confluence of the Loende and Rovuma rivers, at Ngomano, and 
 the eastern or northeastern littoral of Lake Nyassa; had crossed 
 the lake at some point as yet unascertained; had reached a station 
 named Kompoonda or Mapoonda, on its western (probably its 
 northwestern) shore, and was pushing west or northwest, into 
 dangerous ground, when between Marenga and Mukliosowa a 
 band of implacable savages stopped the way, a mixed horde of 
 Zulus, or Mafite and Nyassa folk. The Nyassa folk were armed 
 with bow and arrow, the Zulus with the traditional shield, broad- 
 bladed spears, and axes. With Livingstone there were nine or 
 ten muskets; his Johanna men were resting with their loads far 
 in the rear. 
 
 The Mafite instantly came on to fight; there was no parley, no 
 
 282 
 
APPENDIX III 
 
 283 
 
 avoidance of the combat; they came on with a rush, with war 
 cries and rattling on their shields their spears. As Livingstone 
 and his party raised their pieces, their onset was for a moment 
 checked, but only for a moment. Livingstone fired and two 
 Zulus were shot dead (his boys fired, too, but their fire was harm- 
 less); he was in the act of reloading when three Mafite leaped 
 upon him through the smoke. There was no resistance — there 
 could be none — and one cruel axe-cut from behind him put him 
 out of life. He fell, and when he fell, his terror-stricken escort 
 fled, hunted by the Mafite. One, at least, of the fugitives es- 
 caped; and he, the eyewitness, it is who tells the tale — Ali Musa, 
 chief of his escort of porters. 
 
 The party had left the western shores of Nyassa about five days. 
 They had started from Kompoonda, on the lake's borders (they 
 left the Havildar of Sepoys there dying of dysentery; Livingstone 
 had dismissed the other Sepoys of the Bombay 21st, at Mataka), 
 and had rested at Marenga, where Livingstone was cautioned 
 not to advance. The next station was Mahlivoora; they were 
 traversing a flat country, broken by small hills, and abundantly 
 wooded. 
 
 Indeed, the scene of the tragedy so soon to be consummated 
 would appear to have been an open forest glade. Livingstone, 
 as usual, led the way, his nine or ten unpractised musketeers at 
 his heels. Ali Musa had nearly come up with them, having left 
 his own Johanna men resting with their loads far in the rear. 
 Suddenly he heard Livingstone warn the boys that the Mazitus 
 were coming. The boys in turn beckoned Musa to press for- 
 ward. Musa saw the crowd here and there between the trees. 
 
 He had just gained the party and sunk down behind a tree 
 to deliver his own fire when his leader fell. Musa fled for his life 
 along the path he had come. Meeting his Johanna men, who 
 threw down their loads, and in a body really passed Musa, his 
 escape, and that of his party, merges on the marvelous. How- 
 ever, at sunset, they, in great fear, left their forest refuge, and got 
 back to the place where they hoped to find their baggage. It was 
 gone, and then, with increasing dread, they crept to where the 
 slain traveler lay. 
 
 Near him, in front, lay the grim Zulus who were killed under 
 the expedition. That one blow had killed him outright, he had 
 no other wound but this terrible gash; it must have gone — from 
 
284 
 
 APPENDIX III 
 
 their description — through the neck and spine up to the throat 
 in front, and it had nearly decapitated him. Death came merci- 
 fully in its instant suddenness, for David Livingstone was ever 
 ready. 
 
 They found him stripped of his upper clothing, the Mazitus 
 had respected him when dead. They dug, with some stakes, a 
 shallow grave, and hid from the starlight the stricken temple of a 
 grand spirit — the body of an apostle, whose martyrdom should 
 make sacred the shores of that sea which his labors made known 
 to us, and which now, baptized with his life's blood, men should 
 henceforth know as "Lake Livingstone." 
 
 The Johanna men made the most of their way back to Ma- 
 poonda, not venturing near any village or station. They lost 
 themselves in the jungle, and were fourteen days on their way. 
 At Kompoonda, they witnessed the end of the Havildar of 
 Sepoys, Bombay 21st Native Infantry. He alone of all the 
 Indians was faithful; on the threshold of this Consulate at Zanzi- 
 bar, he pledged himself at the moment of starting never to fore- 
 sake his leader — nor did he; to the last he struggled on, worn with 
 dysentery, but broke down hopelessly on the road to Marenga. 
 A day or two later, and he would have shared his leader's fate. 
 
 Insubordinate, lazy, impracticable, and useless, Livingstone 
 had dismissed the other Sepoys at Maraka. Had they been 
 faithful hke their Havildar, I should not have had to inscribe 
 a record of this sad happening. Their unfitness for African 
 travel might have been predicated. At Kompoonda the Jo- 
 hanna men were deprived of their weapons by the Chief, who also 
 kept the Havildar's. Here they joined an Arab slave caravan, 
 recrossed the Nyassa, and made for Kilwa, the great slave outlet 
 on the Zanzibar coast. 
 
 But here again, and where least expected, they encountered the 
 Mafite. They had reached Keepareygree, eight days southwest 
 of Kilwa, when the appearance of a band of the savages scattered 
 the caravan. Abandoning ivory, slaves — their all — the Arab 
 leaders thought but of saving their lives. The Johanna men 
 again made their escape, and reached Kilwa, whence by the kind- 
 ness of the customs people they were at once sent on to Zanzibar. 
 They arrived here on the sixth of December. 
 
 It will be gratifying to many of the true friends of Dr. Living- 
 stone to learn that, when, on his sad end being known, the 
 
APPENDIX III 
 
 285 
 
 British flag was lowered at this Consulate, the French, the 
 American, and Hanseatic flags were at once flown half-mast high, 
 the Consuls paying a spontaneous tribute to his memory — an 
 example shortly followed by all the foreign vessels in the harbor. 
 The Sultan's flag was also lowered. 
 
 I must reserve other details for a subsequent letter; but I may 
 state that no papers, effects, or relics of Livingstone are likely 
 to be recovered. 
 
 G. Edward Seward. 
 
APPENDIX IV 
 
 Report to Sir Roderick Murchison, President of the Royal Geo- 
 graphical Society, made by Lieutenant E. D. Young, Commander of 
 the First Livingstone Search Expedition. 
 
 [December, 1867] 
 
 Sir, 
 
 I have the honor to lay before you a brief outline of the pro- 
 ceedings of the expedition under my command, sent out to 
 Africa by the Royal Geographical Society, for the purpose of 
 ascertaining the truth or falsehood of the reported death of Dr. 
 Livingstone. I am happy to inform you that our eflForts have 
 been crowned with success, and I have satisfactory evidence that 
 Dr. Livingstone was not murdered by the Mazitu, nor by any 
 other tribe, at the place named by the Johanna men, but had 
 gone on in safety far beyond. I have also satisfactory evidence 
 that the Johanna men deserted shortly after leaving Marenga, 
 returning by the same route as they had gone. 
 
 But I must first begin the narrative from the time of our land- 
 ing at the mouth of the Zambesi. Immediately upon landing, I 
 succeeded in getting a Negro crew to take the boats up as far as 
 Shupanga, where I arrived on the 2d of August. I at once en- 
 gaged a fresh crew to go on to Chibisa, and the next day started 
 for Senna. Arrived there on the 6th; found the Portuguese 
 authorities very obliging; made what arrangements were thought 
 necessary, and proceeded on the next day. I learned from the 
 Portuguese that the Mazitu were in full force on the Shire, and 
 were threatening Chibisa, so I arranged with the authorities at 
 Senna to send on to me at Chibisa (should I require them) 100 
 men, fearing, as the Mazitu were there, I should not be able to 
 get the Makololo to accompany me. 
 
 We arrived at Chibisa on the 17th, and found that the reports 
 about the Mazitu having been there were quite true, and that 
 
 286 
 
APPENDIX IV 
 
 287 
 
 they had been down in force to the left bank, robbing and burn- 
 ing the houses, murdering some of the people they caught, and 
 taking others prisoners. The Makololo put off the canoes from 
 the opposite bank and shot three of them. Of course,! was quite 
 unprepared to meet the Mazitu in this part of the country. 
 
 The Makololo, as well as the people who were of the old mission 
 party, received us gladly. I requested the Makololo to attend 
 the next morning, which they did, when I acquainted them of 
 the object of my mission. They agreed to accompany me on 
 certain conditions, which I agreed to. One was that I should 
 leave some ammunition behind with those that remained, so that 
 should the Mazitu attempt to cross the river below the Cataracts 
 they would be well able to encounter them. After arrangements 
 had been completed, we started on the 19th for the Cataracts; 
 arrived the same day, and at once began taking the boat to 
 pieces. Hitherto all had gone on well, but no sooner had we got 
 the boat to pieces, and everything was ready for the journey 
 overland, than fresh reports about the Mazitu reached the 
 Makololo, which very much daunted them, and had also a 
 tendency to lower our spirits, for without their help we could do 
 nothing, as it was not only their help we required, but also that 
 of their people, they being the chiefs of the country round about. 
 After a good deal of persuasion, the whole affair was settled to 
 our satisfaction, and on the evening of the 23d the Makololo 
 appeared in force with about 150 men. 
 
 We started next morning with the boat, provisions, luggage, 
 etc., making in all 180 loads. The men worked well, and we 
 arrived with everything in good order at Pomfunda, above the 
 Cataracts, in four and a half days. The heat during the journey 
 was excessive, even for Africa. We at once commenced rebuild- 
 ing the boat, and everything appeared to be going on well when 
 fresh reports reached us about the Mazitu. We were visited by 
 some of the Ajawa chiefs who had been driven out of their own 
 country and were obliged to cross the river to save themselves 
 from being murdered. There was an encampment close by the 
 place where we were building the boat, of about 200 Ajawas, the 
 sole survivors of the once powerful people under the chief Joey. 
 
 Every day fresh reports reached us, and the Makololo wanted 
 to return home, which of course I could not consent to. At this 
 place we first heard from a native of a white man having passed 
 
288 
 
 APPENDIX IV 
 
 through Maponda at the south end of Lake Nyassa. He stated 
 that he had seen him, and gave a description of his dress, etc. 
 
 Launched the boat on the 30th, and started up the river next 
 morning. The Makololo not working well, and making every 
 excuse, not being well, etc., thinking perhaps we would turn back. 
 They stated that the risk was too great, that there was little 
 chance of our ever returning, but as they had gone so far they 
 would go on and die with us; of course all was agreed to. As we 
 proceeded we found vast numbers of Ajawas and Machinkas on 
 the left bank, living in temporary huts, who had retreated before 
 the overwhelming numbers of Mazitu. Reached the small lake 
 Pamalombe on the evening of the 5th of September. 
 
 During our passage up the river heard several reports of a 
 white man who twelve months before had stopped at Maponda 
 for some time, having crossed from the opposite side, and after 
 resting some time he had gone on in a westerly direction. I now 
 felt almost convinced that it must have been Livingstone, but I 
 almost feared to stop there, for I felt certain had the Makololo 
 been satisfied that it was him they would have gone no further; 
 for my agreement with them was that, as soon as we had satis- 
 factory evidence that the Doctor had gone on in safety, or that 
 he had been killed in the way described by the Johanna men, 
 I would return with them immediately. But now, as it appeared 
 he had passed over the south end of Nyassa instead of the north, 
 I wanted to find out where he had first struck the lake. The 
 Makololo stated that they were certain that if a white man had 
 been killed, or had died, within a month's journey of where we 
 were, we should certainly have heard of it before we got thus far. 
 
 The next morning crossed the Pamalombe, but could not find a 
 passage in to Maponda, owing to the quantity of rushes and 
 grass, and it blowing very hard at the time we made for the river. 
 Here again we met great numbers of natives, who appeared very 
 hostile. They lined the bank with their guns and demanded that 
 we should come into them. The Makololo appeared very much 
 afraid, so I laid the boat to, to await the approach of two armed 
 canoes that had shoved off from the shore. I soon made matters 
 right with them, and shortly afterwards entered Lake Nyassa, 
 and slept the first night on the Rock Boasuam. 
 
 Started the next morning with a fine breeze from the east side 
 ofthe lake, steering as near as possible for the Arab crossing place, 
 
APPENDIX IV 
 
 289 
 
 as laid down by Livingstone. We had not run more than two 
 hours before a heavy gale began to blow, and for three hours we 
 had to run along the coast to try and find shelter, but the rocks 
 and breakers met us at every hand. This proved the finishing 
 stroke to the Makololos' courage, who all lay down at the bottom 
 of the boat to die, and although the boat was constantly shipping 
 heavy seas, they refused to bale out the water. The steel boat 
 behaved well, but was far too deep for the stormy Lake Nyassa. 
 At length, after three hours' weary watching, we succeeded in 
 finding a sheltered spot where we stopped to dry our clothes. 
 Only one native appeared at this place, who when he saw us first 
 was much frightened; but as soon as we stated we were English, 
 he willingly came toward us. He told us an Englishman had 
 passed through his village a year ago, and that he had come from 
 the Arab settlement and had gone south to Maponda. Started 
 again for the former place, but found the distance too great to 
 reach before dark; put into a small sandy bay, where we found 
 some natives fishing. 
 
 I must here remark that at any place, on first visiting it, no one 
 was allowed to get out of the boat, except myself, Mr. Faulkner, 
 and the interpreter. I soon got into conversation with these 
 men, when they spoke of a white man who had been there, with- 
 out being asked. They stated that he had first made that place 
 coming from Makata, had stopped nine or ten days to rest, and 
 then went north to the Arab settlement to try and get them 
 to carry him and his party across the lake, but after waiting 
 there some time he returned, making his way south for Makata. 
 They described his dress, what luggage he had, imitated him 
 taking sights, and sleeping under a mosquito curtain, and stated 
 that he had a dog with him named Chetane. They said that the 
 headman of the carriers was named Musa; two of the boys spoke 
 the Ajawa and Mananja language, and were named Juma and 
 Wako. They told us what barter goods he traded with; on being 
 shown an album with numbers of likenesses, they at once recog- 
 nized the one of Livingstone. That there were nine of Musa's 
 countrymen with him, who did not speak either the Ajawa or 
 Mananja language. He did not buy slaves or ivory; he had 
 come to see the country. Besides other numerous things that left 
 no doubt in my mind that it was Livingstone. 
 
 Next day we arrived at the Arab settlement, where w? were 
 
290 
 
 APPENDIX IV 
 
 received kindly, and found all that I heard before was correct. 
 Livingstone waited at this place nine or ten days for the Arab 
 boat which did not arrive, so he started south again, and they 
 traced him as far as Maponda. I visited the house Livingstone 
 lived in during his stay, and I purchased a few articles (all Eng- 
 lish make) that he had traded with, such as small round looking 
 glasses, a knife, razor, iron spoons, etc. Of course most of the 
 calicoes and so forth were already worn out, but the chief still 
 possessed an Indian manufactured scarf that Livingstone had 
 presented to him on leaving. I sent two of the most trustworthy 
 Makololo with my ever faithful interpreter (whom I brought 
 from the Cape) on the road to Makata to see if that was the road 
 he had come, while we again went south, making short marches 
 inland, to try to find the route the Johanna men took in going 
 back, as they had not visited this place or the last. We obtained 
 other trifling articles in the shape of barter goods, and while 
 waiting for the return of the Makololo obtained from a chief 
 further south an English Common Prayer book, which he stated 
 had been left behind by the Englishman in the house he had slept 
 at. 
 
 On the 13th the searching party returned, having gone two 
 days' march on the road to Makata. Livingstone had come 
 that way. They brought back some glasses, fish hooks, etc., 
 that he had traded with. They would have gone further, but 
 were ill treated by some of the natives and driven back: their 
 reason for so doing, they said, was that the Englishman had 
 brought fighting into the country, for the Mazitu had been killing 
 their people ever since he left. 
 
 Sept. I4lh. Started for the opposite side of the lake, made 
 for Chinsamba's. Although we started with little or no wind, it 
 again blew a gale before we reached the opposite shore. We 
 found that Chinsamba had been killed some time since, and 
 nothing remained of his village. Skeletons now met our eyes in 
 great numbers, whenever we landed along this side. Saw several 
 natives the first day, both Ajawa and Mananja; and those who 
 had not seen the white man further south had heard of him, but 
 in not a single instance was he spoken of as being dead. I wished 
 to learn by coming over this side, in what direction he had gone 
 after leaving Maponda. We had not crossed long when we saw 
 a man who had helped to carry the Englishman's luggage for two 
 
APPENDIX IV 
 
 291 
 
 days. He described him as before. This man had been Hving 
 inland some distance, but had been driven out by the Ajawa. 
 He pointed in a northwesterly direction, and stated it was five 
 days' journey off, which, of course, would be very much more 
 from Marenga. 
 
 Our progress south was slow, owing to the heavy gales of wind. 
 On our way we met several who had seen the Englishman, and 
 more than one had helped to carry his luggage from village to 
 village, and there was not in all their reports the slightest varia- 
 tion. They were not all from the same place, but they all main- 
 tained that he had gone on in a northwesterly direction towards 
 the Loangwa. These natives were full of complaints about their 
 neighbors, and would have been only too ready to inform against 
 each other if Livingstone had come to an untimely end at either 
 of their hands, and they all maintained that the Mazitu had 
 been in that part of the country. 
 
 Sept. igth. Reached Marenga. Seeing the boat approach 
 the shore they lined the beach with their guns, etc., but, as soon 
 as we told them we were English, they laid their arms down and 
 welcomed us. I at once asked to see Marenga, when I was con- 
 ducted up to his house by one of his wives. Marenga rushed to- 
 wards me, and, seizing me by the hand, shook it heartily, saying, 
 "Where have you come from and where is your brother that was 
 here last year?" and as soon as I told him I had come to follow 
 him, he began and told me all he knew of him. He said he had 
 come there from Maponda, had stopped there two days; he was 
 very kind to him, making him presents, etc., and he in return 
 gave him food that he required. Livingstone gave him medicine 
 which was done up in doses; the papers he used formed part of a 
 "Nautical Almanack" for the year 1866. He lent Livingstone 
 four canoes to take himself and luggage across the marsh, while 
 the Johanna carried the remainder round. He had seen him 
 before; he said he saw him when he was up here with a boat a 
 long time ago. He traced him a month's journey off, giving the 
 names of the places in the same order I had previously heard. He 
 was quite willing to give me any guides to go to Maksuro, or 
 where it once was; but he stated, as I had previously heard, that 
 Maksuro had been driven out and killed by the Ajawa, and his 
 people almost annihilated; as also had Coomo two days' journey 
 beyond. Marenga stated that the Johanna men returned after 
 
292 
 
 APPENDIX IV 
 
 being absent two days. They gave as their reason for returning 
 that they had agreed with Livingstone to take his goods as far 
 only as they Hked. The headman stated that he had been in that 
 direction before with him, and had met the Mazitu, and that 
 they were going no further. To prove their independence they 
 passed themselves off as Arabs. Marenga gave them food, and 
 they slept there one night and then set out for Maponda. 
 
 Marenga is a Babisa, and rules over a populous district; he 
 made us a present of a bullock and as much native food for our 
 crew as we required, and he invited us to remain a long time. 
 He had a great number of wives — I and Mr. Faulkner being in- 
 troduced to forty, who were all sitting round him. 
 
 Having satisfied myself thus far, I asked him if he thought 
 it possible that Livingstone could have died a month's journey 
 off, and he not know it? He at once said no, and had he died 
 three months off he should have heard of it; but as soon as I told 
 him I had heard that the Mazitu had killed him not far distant, 
 he laughed, and said he told me he was going the way to avoid 
 them, and that the Mazitu had never been in that part of the 
 country described by the Johanna men. 
 
 Marenga then sent for a man who had gone five days' journey 
 with him, and when he returned the Johanna men had gone back. 
 I had previously heard the same account from the same man. 
 
 The Makololo now got very impatient to return home, and 
 nothing was talked of day or night but the Mazitu. They stated 
 that they had fulfilled their engagement, but I very much wished 
 to try to get to the north end of the lake. But they would not 
 listen to it. No inducement I could offer would persuade them to 
 go; so there was no alternative but to go round to Maponda, get 
 what information I could and return. 
 
 Marenga was full of complaints about his neighbors, and what 
 he wished for more than anything else was medicine for his guns, 
 so that if the Ajawas came to fight him his shot would kill some- 
 one every time they fired. We, being satisfied that Livingstone 
 had gone on in safety, started on the 20th for Maponda, calling 
 at the several places along the coast to gain what information I 
 could; but all I obtained only confirmed what I had previously 
 heard. 
 
 Arrived at Maponda on the 25th. The chief himself was not 
 at home, having gone on a trading expedition, leaving his mother 
 
APPENDIX IV 
 
 to act during his absence. Immediately on arrival I sent a 
 messenger to acquaint her of arrival and my wish to see her. She 
 soon came, with a train of followers, bringing us presents of 
 native food and beer. She stated that an Englishman had been 
 there a year before, had stopped three weeks to rest his party, 
 and then left for Marenga, stopped there a day or two, and then 
 left to go to the Loangwa, calling at Maksura, Coomo, etc. One 
 of the boys was left behind here, being unable to travel, having 
 very bad feet and legs, but had now quite recovered and gone with 
 Maponda. She stated that the Englishman had left a paper 
 with him, but that he had taken it vnth him on the journey. 
 She brought some books belonging to him, one of which had his 
 name on ("Wakitane, from Dr. Wilson, Dec. 1864," etc.), which 
 she allowed me to take. The Johanna men returned this way, 
 stopped one day, and proceeded on. She swore, in the presence 
 of us all, that Maponda did not take away their guns, neither did 
 any of the party die there. She stated that the Englishman was 
 great friends with her son, and that if anyone had molested him 
 (even Marenga, as strong as he was) he would have gone to war 
 with him. The old lady laughed at the idea of Livingstone hav- 
 ing been killed by the Mazitu. Mr. Faulkner questioned her 
 regarding the Havildar. She gave a description of a man with 
 straight black hair, with the top of his head shaved, etc. Maren- 
 ga also told us the same. Mr. Faulkner states it answers the 
 description of the Indian very well. Marenga also told us the 
 same, and I felt convinced had he died there we would have heard 
 it from some of the numbers I questioned on the subject. 
 
 The Makololo now told me that if I intended going into the 
 lake again, they were not going with me; and, being entirely 
 dependent on these men, there was no alternative but to return 
 and to get their aid in carrying the boat back. So, having got 
 all the news I could at Maponda, I decided on going to Makata; 
 but although I offered a large amount to a guide, no one would 
 attempt to cross the river. They stated that Makata had taken 
 to the mountains for fear of the Mazitu, and they were afraid 
 of being cut off. 
 
 Started for the Cataracts on the 27th. Found the same state 
 of things along the river as on coming up. Arrived at the Cata- 
 racts on the 2d of October, and commenced taking the boat to 
 pieces. Meanwhile we heard from Chibisa that the road was 
 
294 
 
 APPENDIX IV 
 
 clear, and that the Mazitu made Chore, not far from the lower 
 Shire, their headquarters. 
 
 Oct. 8th. Started for Chibisa with the boat, luggage, etc., 
 where we arrived on the 12th. We found the boats safe, and the 
 men left with them in very fair health. Again built the steel 
 boat, and while there repaired the graves of the late missionaries 
 who died there. 
 
 22d. — Started from Chibisa. 
 
 26th. — Arrived at the Ruo, stopped and repaired the grave of 
 the late Bishop Mackenzie. Arrived at the Kongone on the ilth 
 of November, but on our way down we visited Senna. 
 
 H. M. S. Racoon arrived on the 2d of December. 
 
 Arrived at the Cape on the evening of the 17th. 
 
 Embarked on board the mail steamer on the 19th. 
 
 In conclusion, I must again state that this is but a brief out- 
 line of our proceedings. I should have liked to have done more 
 by going to the north end of the lake, but was prevented by 
 circumstances unforseen when I left England; for, had the Mazitu 
 not threatened Chibisa, I should have had little difficulty in 
 getting the Makololo to accompany me. Under the circum- 
 stances, I hope that what has been done will meet with your 
 approval, as well as that of the Royal Geographical Society. 
 
 I have the honor to be^ Sir, your very obedient servant, 
 
 E. D. Young. 
 
INDEX 
 
 A 
 
 Aborigines, the, are noted for fairness 
 and honesty, 103-104; but are callous 
 to the enormity of crime of destroying 
 human hfe. 104. 
 
 Africa, drawing the map of, 213 ff.; 
 a sketch of, showing routes travelled 
 by Livingstone, 214. 
 
 Ajawa, the, versus, the Manganja, 195. 
 
 Ancient geography, Livingstone specu- 
 lates on, as if he would attempt to 
 cotirdinate facts with Scriptural his- 
 tory, 269-701 
 
 Asthmatic, the, at Tette on her last trip, 
 191. (See o/so Ma Robert.) 
 
 Astronomer Royal, Livingstone's report 
 to the, 127. 
 
 Atlantic Coast, journey to, from Lin- 
 yanti, 115. 
 
 B 
 
 Bakatla, the, a pleasant and likable 
 folk, 41. 
 
 Baker deplores easy blood-letting by 
 
 native people otherwise pleasant, 1C6. 
 Bakwain country, Livingstone explores 
 
 the, 25, 26. 
 Balaklava, news of the battle of, reaches 
 
 the explorer, 129. 
 Baldwin, Mr., a Natal Englishman, is 
 
 held in captivity by Mashotlane, an 
 
 old-time warrior, 184. 
 Bangweolo, Lake, 249. (See also 
 
 Bemba.) 
 
 Barbarism of Europeans in Africa 
 makes Livingstone shiver in his soul, 
 180. 
 
 Barth, Dr., Livingstone recalls the work 
 of, 162. 
 
 Bayeiye natives, Livingstone expedition 
 runs into, 64. 
 
 Bemba, or Bangweolo, a great lake, 
 Livingstone is within ten days' march 
 of, when recalled, 203. 
 
 Bennett, James Gordon, biographical 
 data, 235-36; finances Search Expe- 
 dition to find Livingstone, 237; his 
 instructions to StaiJey, 238. 
 
 Bechuama country, the explorer de- 
 scribes characteristics of natives of, 
 133. 
 
 Birmingham accords Livingstone highest 
 honors, 165. 
 
 Blood brotherhood, description of, 135. 
 
 Boers, enmity of, incurred by Living- 
 stone, 51 ; raid Sechele and his tribe, 
 53; destroy Livingstone's household 
 effects and library, 53; Livingstone 
 accused of designs against, 82. 
 
 Bombay, India. (See under Lady 
 Nyassa.) 
 
 Bonga, or Tigercat, Chief, murders six 
 of Livingstone's Makololo friends, 178. 
 
 Bosman deplores easy blood-letting by 
 native people otherwise pleasant, 105. 
 
 Bourbon, French island of, slaves 
 shipped to, 174. 
 
 British Association for the Advance- 
 ment of Science, Livingstone adduces 
 facts before a meeting of the, 168. 
 
 Bruce, James, Livingstone recalls the 
 work of, 162. 
 
 Buhr, Chief, Livingstone visits, and de- 
 clares that he can make rain, 31. 
 
 Burial of Livingstone's remains in Ilala, 
 275; in Westminster Abbey, 277. 
 
 Burrup, Mr., repeats from memory 
 parts of service for Burial of the 
 Dead at funeral of Bishop Mackenzie, 
 199; exhausted by illness, conveyed 
 by the Makololo to his countrymen 
 at Magomero, 199. 
 
 Burton, R. F., says African's only fear, 
 after committing murder, is that of 
 being haimted by the ghost of the 
 dead, 104-05. 
 
 C 
 
 Caffre war, the, comments on, (a) by 
 Gov. Genl. Cathcart, (*) by Living- 
 stone, 76-77. 
 
 Cambridge University gives degree to 
 Livingstone, 165. 
 
 Cameron, Lieut., the first Englishman to 
 hear of the death of Livingstone, 276. 
 
 Capetown, Livingstone heads for, after 
 discovering the Zambesi, 76; sermon 
 preached at, by Livingstone arouses 
 prejudice against him, 80. 
 
 Carpenter, J. E^tlin, eulogizes Sikh 
 Guru teaching, 103, 104. 
 
 Cecil, Mr., Livingstone's tutor, letter to, 
 27, 28. 
 
296 I N 
 
 Central Africa, Livingstone's data con- 
 struct the map of, 162. 
 
 Chaka kills his ally, Godongwana, 13; 
 is assassinated by Dingaan, 13. 
 
 Chambeze, the river, 228. 
 
 Chitambo's village, on the Lulinala, in 
 Ilala, Livingstone expires in, 272. 
 
 Chobe, crossing of the, description of, 
 92. 
 
 Clarendon, Lord of the Admiralty, in- 
 vites Livingstone to state his wishes 
 and to consider them granted, 165. 
 
 Cochrane, Capt. the Hon. Ernest, 
 commanding H. M. S. Pelrel, on the 
 West Coast of Africa, reports the 
 murder of Livingstone, 240. 
 
 Colonization, a system of, among the 
 honest poor, Livingstone writes on, 
 180. 
 
 Cook, Capt., cited in praise of aborig- 
 ines, 103. 
 
 Court of law, native, description of a, 
 102-03. 
 
 D 
 
 Daily News, a writer in the, interprets 
 
 Livingstone and his mission, 163. 
 
 Dalton, Colonel, cited in praise of ab- 
 origines, 104. 
 
 Darwin, quoted, 89. 
 
 Death of Livingstone, falsely reported 
 by Musa, is flashed all over the world, 
 220; at Chitambo's village, on the 
 Luhnala, 273. 
 
 Dingaan, assassinates Chaka, 13. 
 
 Distances, relative, 110, 206-07. 
 
 Doctors, native, permitted to try their 
 arts on Livingstone, 87. 
 
 Doherty, Richard, forwards to the 
 Times a letter received from Capt. 
 Cochrane, commanding H. M. S. 
 Petrel, reporting the murder of Liv- 
 ingstone, 240. 
 
 E 
 
 Edinburgh accords Livingstone highest 
 
 honors, 165. 
 Embalming of Livingstone's body, in 
 
 Ilala, 275. 
 Exploration 0} Southeast Africa, cited, 
 
 145. 
 
 F 
 
 Fever, Livingstone has his first attack of , 
 at Linyanti, May 31. 1853, 108; 
 treatment by tribal doctor, 109. 
 
 Fighting the slave trade, 168 ff . 
 
 Forerunner, British cruiser, Livingstone 
 declines offer of passage to England 
 on the, 126; strikes a sunken rock and 
 loses mails and fourteen lives, 128. 
 
 Frolic, Livingstone embarks on the, for 
 England, 155. 
 
 Fimeral obsequies, strange, described by 
 the explorer, 13&-36. 
 
 E X 
 
 G 
 
 Gabriel, Mr., Commissioner for thesup- 
 
 Eression of the slave trade, welcomes 
 ivingstone at Locinda, 125. 
 Garden Island, 144; Sir Richard Glyn 
 
 visits, 144 (Joolnole). 
 George, Livingstone sails on the, for 
 
 Algoa Bay, 16. 
 Godongwana, "The Wanderer," forms 
 a celibate army, 13; is killed by his 
 ally, Chaka, 13. 
 Gorgon, the, English cruiser, arrives at 
 
 the Great Luabo, 198. 
 Great Britain acclaims the explorer- 
 missionary on his return, 161. 
 Great Luabo, the, reached, 198. 
 
 H 
 
 Hall, records admiration of the honesty 
 and fairness of native Labradorians, 
 103. 
 
 Hamilton, freedom of the city of, given 
 
 to Livingstone, 165. 
 Hay, Gov. Genl., Livingstone the guest 
 
 of, at Mauritius, 159. 
 Hodgson, Mr., of the Asiatic Society, 
 
 praises aborigines, 104. 
 Homed men, "a strange race of," 179. 
 How I found Livingstone, conversation 
 
 between Stanley and James Gordon 
 
 Bennett in, 237. 
 
 I 
 
 Inoculation practised by Bakwains be- 
 fore their intercourse with mission- 
 aries, 87. 
 
 K 
 
 Kalahari desert, the, declared impass- 
 able, 36; Livingstone decides to cross, 
 54; with wife and three children and 
 retinue, starts into, 55-56; suffering 
 in the, 61. 
 
 Kamolondo, I-ake, 249. 
 
 Kirk, Dr. John, botanist, accompanies 
 Livingstone on his return to Africa on 
 new pilgrimage, 166; attends Mrs. 
 Livingstone in her last illness, 200. 
 
 Kolff , Dr., cited in praise of aborigines, 
 104. 
 
 Kolobeng, starting point of expedition 
 to cross Kalah^i desert, 55; return 
 to, from desert, 61. 
 
 Kongone branch of the Zambesi navi- 
 gated, 176-77. 
 
 Krieger, Commandant, Livingstone 
 makes journeys of 300 miles on foot 
 to interview, 51. 
 
 Kuruman, Livingstone leaves Cape- 
 town en route to Moffat station at, 
 22; arrives, 23; route from, to Ma- 
 botsa, described, 45-46; journey from, 
 to Linyanti, takes almost a year, 83. 
 
I N 
 
 Lacerda, Mons., employed to extinguish 
 facts adduced by Livingstone in re- 
 gard to Portuguese slave-trading, 168. 
 
 "Lacustrine river," an "enormous," 
 249. 
 
 Lady Nyassa, the, designed for lake 
 service, arrives in 24 sections, on the 
 cruiser Gorgon, at the Great Luabo, 
 198; in tow, starts for Nyassa, 202; 
 is navigated by Livingstone to Bom- 
 bay, India, 206-07; is sold, 208. 
 
 Lake Regions of Central Africa, R. F. 
 Burton, in, testifies to natives' dis- 
 regard of destroying human life, 
 104. 
 
 Last march, the, 258 ff. 
 
 Lechulatebe, Chief, asks for, and is 
 
 £ resented with, Livingstone's gun, 65. 
 eeds accords Livingstone highest 
 honors, 165. 
 Lepoloh, Livingstone spends half year 
 at, 27. 
 
 Libonti, return to, greeted with wild 
 
 demonstrations of joy, 136. 
 Liemba, Lake, the southern extremity 
 
 of Lake Tanganyika, 227. 
 Lincoln, Lake. 250. 
 
 Linyanti, 79 ft.; Livingstone reaches on 
 May 23, 1853. 83; reception at, 93 £f.; 
 journey from, to the Atlantic coast, 
 115; pilgrimage of Second Expedition 
 to. Chiles Livingstone's romantic 
 account of, 181 ff. 
 
 Liverpool accords Livingstone highest 
 honors, 165. 
 
 Livingstone, Charles, accompanies the 
 explorer on his return to Africa, on 
 new pilgrimage, 166. 
 
 Livingstone, Mrs., acts as nurse, 65; 
 with children, sails for England on 
 April 23, 1852, 78; meets the explorer 
 on his arrival at Southampton, 160; 
 illness and death of, April 27, 1862, 
 200. 
 
 "Livingstone Pills," specific for fever, 
 187. 
 
 Livingstone Testimonial Fund sug- 
 gested at the Mansion House, 162. 
 
 Loanda, arrival at, 125; Livingstone's 
 convalescence at, 127; government 
 and merchants at, actively friendly, 
 127. 
 
 Lomami River, the, 250. 
 
 London, city of, presents Livingstone 
 with a gold box, with freedom deed 
 enclosed, 165. 
 
 London Missionary Society, Livingstone 
 resigns from, in 1857, 165-66. 
 
 Lualaba River, Livingstone tries to se- 
 cure a canoe fleet in order to explore 
 and chart the, 245. 
 
 Luamo River, Livingstone in sore straits 
 while trying to cross the, 239. 
 
 Luapula, the, source stream of the Con- 
 go, 228; the Central, or Webb's Lake 
 River, 228-29. 
 
 Lufite River, the, 249. 
 
 E X 297 
 M 
 
 Mabalwe, native schoolmaster, with 
 Livingstone in attack on lions, 41-43. 
 
 Mabotsa, settlement at, 37 ff.; route to, 
 from Kuruman, described, 45—46. 
 
 Mackenzie, Bishop, with a mission 
 party arrives at Kongone, 191; dis- 
 cusses the dark side of the African 
 picture, 192 ff.; debates whether to 
 take sides with the Manganja against 
 the Ajawa, 195; parts with the ex- 
 plorer and instals himself at Mago- 
 mero, 196; illness and death of at 
 Malo, an island at the mouth of the 
 Rue, 198-99. 
 
 Maclear, Sir Thomas, excerpt from a 
 letter from Livingstone to, announc- 
 ing commencement on his book, 164. 
 
 Magomero, Bishop Mackenzie installed 
 at, 196. 
 
 Maj wara, the lad who loved Livingstone, 
 discovers him dead, 272-73. 
 
 Makolololand, journey to Linyanti, in, 
 83. 
 
 Malo, island of. Bishop Mackenzie dies 
 
 on, 198-99. 
 Mamochisane, Sebituane's daughter, 
 
 purposes carrying out her father's 
 
 designs, 74; resigns in favor of her 
 
 brother, Sekeletu, 96. 
 Manganja, the, fersus the Ajawa, 195. 
 Manyuema, Livingstone advances into 
 
 the country of the, 245. 
 Mariano, the unspeakable slave-trader, 
 
 174; details of a hamlet raided by, 
 
 174-76. 
 
 Marimba, description of a, 122. 
 
 Ma Robert, the, fitted and launched for 
 the charting and measuring of the 
 four channels by which the Zambesi 
 falls into the sea, 176; starts for 
 Tette, 177; is renamed Asthmatic, 
 178. 
 
 Mashotlane, warrior, holds in captivity 
 a Natal Englishman, Mr. Baldwin, 
 184. 
 
 Mashuana, Livingstone's headman, 131. 
 Matabele, the, offer gifts to the explorer, 
 137. 
 
 Medicine practice of, Livingstone has 
 regard for natives' skill in, 106. 
 
 Meeting of Stanley and Livingstone, at 
 Ujiji on Oct. 18, 1871, reported by 
 Stanley, 251 ff. 
 
 Missionaries, Livingstone's fellow, ac- 
 cuse him of being unorthodox to the 
 point of danger, SO; England's "mon- 
 strous mistaKe" as to, a blot on Brit- 
 ain's escutcheon, 211. 
 
 Missionary Travels, excerpt from, 1 IS- 
 IS. 
 
 Mobasilange, Livingstone's description 
 of, 243-44. 
 
 Moero, Lake, Livingstone first sees on 
 Nov. 8, 1868, 227; his Journal entry 
 concerning, 227, 249. 
 
298 I N 
 
 MofiFat., Dr. Robert, visits Livingstone 
 in London, 1 1 ; his station, picture of 
 daily life at, 32-34; his daughter, 
 Mary, marries Livingstone, in 1844, 
 45; letter to, from Sechele, 81-82. 
 
 Molilamo, the exhausted explorer on 
 the banks of the, 272. 
 
 Moore, Joseph, relates incident of Liv- 
 ingstone's loss of memory, 14. 15. 
 
 Mosilikatse, Chief, threatens to kUl 
 any white man, 40. 
 
 Mosi-oa-Tounya," Smoke that Soimds," 
 141-42. 
 
 Mpangwe. Chief, is assassinated by two 
 native Portuguese, 172. 
 
 Mpepe, relative to the royal house, as- 
 pires to succession, meets Livingtone, 
 96 fF.; in conference with Livingstone 
 and Sekeletu, 99; stabs at Sekeletu, 
 who is saved by Livingstone's inter- 
 jxjsed arm. 99; is executed, 100-101. 
 
 Murray, John, and Sir Richard Murchi- 
 son, urge Livingstone to write his ex- 
 periences, 164. 
 
 Murray, Mungo, joins Livingtone in ex- 
 pedition to cross Kalahari desert, 5o. 
 
 Murchison, Sir Roderick, urges Living- 
 stone to write his experiences, 164; ad- 
 dresses guests at farewell public 
 dinner in honor of the explorer, I60; 
 Livingstone, arrived from Bombay, 
 calls on, 208; takes the explorer, just 
 as he was, to Lady Palmerston's re- 
 ception. 208-09. 
 
 Musa, the Johanna malcontent, be- 
 comes central in affairs, 219; revolts 
 and leads malcontents to coast, 220; 
 hatches up a plausible story of death 
 of Livingstone, 220; his tale proved 
 without foundation, 220. 
 
 N 
 
 Narratitt of an Expedition to the Zam- 
 besi and its TribulOTies; and of the 
 Discevery of the Lakes Shirwa and 
 Nyassa, 168. 
 
 Native, the unspoiled, almost free from 
 consumption, etc., but falls victim 
 after contact with whites, 87. 
 
 Natural History, Livingstone's contribu- 
 tions to, many and genuine, 162. 
 
 New York Herald, the, and the Living- 
 stone Search Expedition, 238. 
 
 Neami, Lake, beheld for first time by 
 Europeans, 58-59. 
 
 Niger expedition, survey of the river 
 by Mr. Macgregor Laird. Mr. Lauder 
 and Lt. William Allen. 13. 
 
 Nohokotas. the spring waters of, 58. 
 
 Nokuane, emissary or Sekeletu. carries 
 out the execution of Mpepe, lOO-lOl. 
 
 Nonconformist, imidentified writer in 
 the, draws a pen-picture of Living- 
 stone, 160. 
 
 Nyassa, Lake, discovery of, 180; third 
 expedition reaches, 219, 240. 
 
 E X 
 
 O 
 
 Ostrich, the roar of, as loud as that of 
 the lion. 88-89. 
 
 Oswell. Wm. C, joins Livingstone in 
 expedition to cross Kalahari desert, 
 55 ; evinces solicitude for Livingstone 
 and family 60-61; with Livingstone 
 at discovery of the 2;ambesi, 74, 75. 
 
 Oxford and Cambridge Mission to the 
 tribes on the Shire and I-ake Nyassa, 
 reaches Kongone, 191. 
 
 Oxford University gives degree to Liv- 
 ingstone, 165. 
 
 P 
 
 Palmerston, Lord, appoints Livingstone 
 Consul for the East Coast of Africa, 
 165. 
 
 Park, Mungo, Livingstone recalls the 
 
 work of, 162. 
 Parting of Livingstone and Stanley, the, 
 
 263-65. 
 
 Parra Africana. the, description of, 117. 
 
 Pearl, S. S.. Livingstone's party, on new 
 pilgrimage, leaves Liverpool on 
 March 10, 1858, 166; proceeds twenty 
 miles up the Kongone branch of the 
 Zambesi, 177. 
 
 Penquin, cruiser, Livingstone and party 
 embark on, at Zanzibar, for Rovuma 
 Bay, 113. 
 
 Pindar, cited, 119. 
 
 Pionter, the, is sent out by the Govern- 
 ment to replace the Asthmatic (orig- 
 inally the Ma Robert), 179; arrives at 
 Kongone from England, 191; not al- 
 together satisfactory for river work, 
 192; with the Lady Nyassa in tow, 
 starts for Nyassa, 202. 
 
 Plans, Livingstone's, set forth in no im- 
 certain way, 210. 
 
 Polarity, sense of among natives, 197 
 (footnote). 
 
 Polygamy, Livingstone's hardest task to 
 convince natives of what he deemed 
 the error of. 105. 
 
 Portuguese settlements in miserable 
 state of decay, 154; slave-trading de- 
 nounced, 168; politicians, insincerity 
 of. bluntly attacked, 168; Living- 
 stone's specific charges against, 169 ff. 
 
 Pringle. Mr.. Livingstone's companion 
 on the road between Kurimian and 
 Mabotsa, 40. 
 
 Pungo Adongo. Livingstone laid up at, 
 128. 
 
 Q 
 
 Quilimane. the explorer's party reaches 
 the httle port of, 155. 
 
 R 
 
 Rain-making, 47, 48. 
 Recorder of Natal, the, in praise of the 
 Zulus, 104. 
 
I N 
 
 Reis, Rt. Rev. Joachim Moreira, sends 
 orders to district chiefs to give the 
 explorer every assistance possible, 
 128. 
 
 Rhodes, Cecil, is forestalled by Living- 
 stone in establishing a white-ruled 
 settlement, 250. 
 
 Richardson, James, Livingstone recalls 
 the work of, 162. 
 
 Rider, an artist, dies of jungle fever, 
 64. 
 
 Roscher, Dr., a German explorer, is 
 murdered by natives, 181. 
 
 Route to interior from Atlantic Coast, 
 Livingstone decides to seek, 109. 
 
 Rovuma River, the, Livingstone goes 
 156 miles up the, 202. 
 
 Royal Geographical Society awards 
 Livingstone $100 in token of apprecia- 
 tion of the discovery of Lake Ngami, 
 78; Livingstone's report to, 127; 
 presents Livingstone with the Pa- 
 trons' Gold Medal, 162; begs Living- 
 stone's attendance at a farewell pub- 
 lic dinner on Feb. 13, 1857, 165; 
 resolves to send an expedition to 
 Africa, 211 ; Livingstone offers himself 
 as leader, 211; finances and sends 
 out an expedition to ascertain facts 
 regarding report of Livingstone's 
 death, 220. 
 
 Royal Society, the, begs Livingstone's 
 attendance at a farewell pubhc dinner 
 on Feb. 13, 1857, 165. 
 
 Rusizi, the river, 260. 
 
 Russell-Palmerston antagonisms, Liv- 
 ingstone an important piece on the 
 chess board of, 209. 
 
 Russian war, news of the, reaches the 
 explorer 128-29. 
 
 S 
 
 Savages, their conduct in church com- 
 pared with that of English in Pepys's 
 day, 87. 
 
 Scientist, Livingstone's achievements as 
 a, 161-62. 
 
 Scots raise $6,000 for a Livingstone 
 Testimonial Fund, 162-63. 
 
 Scriptural history. See Ancient geog- 
 raphy. 
 
 Sebituane, Chief, saviour of Sechele, 36; 
 burns to hear Livingstone's message, 
 54; demonstrates his earnestness, 66; 
 marches more than 100 miles to meet 
 third expedition, 68; account of meet- 
 ing with Livingstone, 69 ff .; his illness 
 and death, 73. 
 
 Sechele, Chief of the Bechuanas, Living- 
 stone visits, 34; his sick daughter 
 cured, 34; his difficulty the question 
 of polygamy, 35; Livingstone's first 
 convert, 47; promises to furnish 
 trustworthy gmde to see Livingstone 
 across Kalahari desert. 55; letter 
 frran, to Dr. Moffat, 81-82; decides 
 
 E X 299 
 
 to lay his case before Queen Victoria, 
 84; starts for England, 85; at Cape- 
 town renounces the project, 85. 
 
 Second Expedition, the, keynote of, 
 176; exploration work of, 176 ff.; 
 reaches Tette, Sept. 8, 1858, 178; re- 
 called by Lord John Russell, 203; 
 Livingstone on the recall of, 204-05. 
 
 Sekeletu rules in his father's (Sebitu- 
 ane's) place, 95; is strangely altered, 
 188. 
 
 Sekomi, unfriendly chief, 66. 
 
 Sekwebu begs to be allowed to go to 
 England with Livingstone, 158; on 
 reaching Mauritius, commits suicide, 
 158; death of described by Living- 
 stone in Missionary Travels, 158. 
 
 Sepoys, the, are slow on the march and 
 cruel to beasts of burden, 217, 218; 
 employment of, an error, 218. 
 
 Servitors, Livingstone's "faithful five," 
 278. 
 
 Shire River, 173; Lake, 173. 
 Shirwa, Lake, discovery of, Apl. 18, 
 1859, 179. 
 
 Shobo, a Bushman guide, deserts cara- 
 van and goes alone to the water holes, 
 67-68. 
 
 Shongwe, "The Seething Cauldron," 
 141. 
 
 Sicard, Major Tito Augusto d'Araujo, 
 
 Commandant at Tette, sends the 
 
 explorer food, 153. 
 Sienna, Livingstone's base on Kongone 
 
 branch of Zeimbesi, incipient mutiny, 
 
 at, 177. 
 
 Skead, Mr. Francis, of the Royal Navy, 
 skilled surveyor, joins Livingstone's 
 new pilgrimage at Capetown, 166. 
 
 Slave trade "the greatest obstacle to 
 civilization and commercial prog- 
 ress," 173-74; Livingstone's work the 
 death blow to, 176. 
 
 Smelting, natives understand the craft 
 of, 105. 
 
 Social life of the native people, 101 ff. 
 
 Sorrow and apparent defeat, 191 ff. 
 
 Stanley, Henry Morton, biographical 
 data, 234; leads Search Expedition to 
 find Livingstone, 237-38; his outfit, 
 243; meets Livingstone at Ujiji. 250 
 ff.; debates with Livingstone over 
 plans, 258; reports latter's decision, 
 2o9; at Ujiji, 262; bearing Living- 
 stone's sealed Journals, bids the ex- 
 
 glorer Farewell, 263, 264; reaches 
 angamayo, 2b6; runs into members 
 of the Livingstone Search and Relief 
 Expedition, 2b6. 
 Steele, Sir Thomas Livingstone's com- 
 panion on the road between Kuruman 
 and Mabotsa, 40. 
 Stewart, Rev. James, reads burial ser- 
 vice at funeral of Mrs. Livingstone, 
 200. 
 
 Stubbs, Capt., Livingstone recalls the 
 work of, 162. 
 
300 IN] 
 T 
 
 Tamunak'la, the, 62, 64. 
 
 Tanganyika, Lake, 227, 249; Living- 
 stone and Stanley together explore 
 the, 259; Stanley's record of, 260, 261; 
 Livingstone's account, 262. 
 
 Tette, the explorer approaches the 
 settlement of, 153. 
 
 Thornton, Mr. Richard, geologist, join's 
 Livingstone's party on its new pil- 
 grimage, 166. 
 
 Times of India, the, on report of Living- 
 stone's safety, 221 ff. 
 
 Tsetse fly, Livingstone makes an au- 
 topsy of animal killed by bite of, 86; 
 Livingstone greatly interested to ob- 
 serve effect of the, on camels and 
 mules, 214-15. 
 
 U 
 
 Ujiji, Livingstone, reduced to a skele- 
 ton, reaches, 248; Livingstone and 
 Stanley at, 262; Stanley leaves Liv- 
 ingstone at, 263. 
 
 Unyanyembe, Livingstone and Stanley 
 at, 262. 
 
 V 
 
 Veniani, Father,, testifies to honesty 
 and fairness among aborigines, 103. 
 
 Victoria Falls, Livingstone discovers 
 the, 142; summary of description of, 
 144 ff.; Baines, in his Exploralion of 
 Southeast Africa, cited, 145; excerpt 
 from Livingstone's Journal, 145 ft.; 
 account of, written by Charles Liv- 
 ingstone, 147-48. 
 
 Victoria, Queen, receives and talks with 
 Livingstone, 162. 
 
 E X 
 
 Voyage of the Beagle, excerpt from, 37, 
 
 W 
 
 Wainwright, Jacob, makes inventory of 
 Livingstone's effects, 274; reads ser- 
 vice for Burial of the Dead, 275; 
 carves an inscription on the tree at 
 foot of which Livingstone is buried, 
 276; accompanies the disinterred 
 body to England, 277. 
 
 Webb's Lualaba, the, 249. 
 
 Western River, or Yoimg's Lake River, 
 229. 
 
 Westminster Abbey, body of David 
 Livingstone is buried in, 10, 277. 
 
 Y 
 
 Young, Mr. D. E., leads T?oyal "Geo- 
 graphical Society's expedition to in- 
 vestigate regarding report of Living- 
 stone's death, 220. 
 
 Young's Lake River. See Western River. 
 
 Z 
 
 Zambesi, the, through the desert to, 
 
 57 ff.; discovery of (June, 1851), 
 
 description of the, 74, 75; summary 
 
 of description of, 144 ff. 
 Zanzibar, Livingstone has a two-month 
 
 wait at, for the cruiser Penguin, 213. 
 Zouga River, and native village on the, 
 
 58, 62-64. 
 Zulus, are famed for their honesty, 104. 
 Zulu War, Livingstone's opposition to, 
 
 draws upon him something more than 
 
 doubt, 80. 
 Zumbo, place of the Bazunga, 149. 
 
4