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 [Session 1873-4,] 
 
 Memorial Bulletin 
 
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 American 
 
 THE LIFE AND 
 
 SERVICES OF DR. DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 AN HONORARY MEMBER OF THE SOCIETY. 
 
 REMARKS OF CHIEF-JUSTICE DALY. 
 REMARKS OF MAJOR H. C. DANE. 
 ADDRESS OF REV. WM. ADAMS, D.D. 
 ADDRESS OF REV. HENRY WARD BEECHER. 
 
 ADDRESS OF DR. I. I. HAYES. 
 
 ADDRESS OF REV. NOAH HUNT SCHENCK, D.D. 
 
 NEW-YORK : 
 
 PRINTED FOR THE SOCIETY. 
 
 1 874- 
 
Memorial Meeting 
 
 OF THE 
 
 gVmracau (Geographical ^ocicto. 
 
 HELD AT THE 
 
 ACADEMY OF MUSIC, NEW-YORK. 
 
 Thursday Evening , April 23, 1874. 
 Chief-Justice Daly in the chair. 
 
 Notwithstanding the heaviest rain storm of the season, 
 more than twenty-five hundred Fellows and guests of 
 the Society participated in the proceedings. By the 
 courtesy of Major-General W. S. Hancock, U. S. A., 
 the United States Army Band, stationed on Governor’s 
 Island, played dirges at intervals during the evening. 
 
 Introductory Remarks by Chief-Justice Daly. 
 
 Fellows of the Society, Ladies and Gentlemen:— 
 The connection of Dr, Livingstone with the Society 
 extends almost to the period when he commenced his 
 careeer as an explorer. His name has been the longest 
 upon our list of honorary members. Many years ago, 
 we honored ourselves by placing his name on that lim¬ 
 ited list, and he expressed himself honored that we had 
 
 3 
 
done so. We had hoped that when the work to whieh 
 he had devoted so many years of his life had been accom¬ 
 plished, the tracing out of the great network of rivers 
 and lakes, which constitute the water sheds of South and 
 Central Africa, that he would have visited this country, 
 and that we would have had the opportunity upon some 
 public occasion of expressing to him our appreciation 
 and that of the American people of what he had done 
 in extending the boundaries of human knowledge, and 
 in the great cause of humanity. It was destined that it 
 should be otherwise. He is now in his grave, entombed 
 with the illustrious dead of England, and all that is left 
 us is to unite in the public tribute of respect to his 
 memory. You will be addressed by four eminent gen¬ 
 tlemen, members of the Society, upon his life scenes and 
 character. Preparatory to their remarks, 1 will call 
 upon Major Dane, who is himself about to commence 
 
 his career as a geographical traveller in the exploration 
 
 / 
 
 of the unknown regions of Central Asia, to point out the 
 respective routes of Dr. Livingstone, upon the map of 
 Africa, that you may have before you a large portion of 
 that great continent that has been opened by his explo¬ 
 rations and discoveries. I should also mention that the 
 portrait of Dr. Livingstone which surmounts the map 
 of Africa has been painted for the occasion by a Fellow, 
 the distinguished artist, Mr. Rinehardt. 
 
 4 
 
MAJOR H. C. DANE ON THE GEOGRAPHICAL 
 WORK OF DR. LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 Mr. President, Fellows of the American Geograph¬ 
 ical Society, Ladies and Gentlemen:— I deem myself 
 most highly honored in being invited by the officers 
 of the Society to point out upon the map a general 
 outline of the several extensive journeys of explo¬ 
 ration made by the remarkable man whose memory 
 we honor this night. Time will necessarily compel me 
 to be brief and explicit; nevertheless I shall endeavor 
 to give you such an understanding of the vast work he 
 accomplished, that you may be able to follow him in his 
 wanderings, as those who are to address you upon his 
 character and achievements, shall recount his labors. 
 Thirty-five years ago, all we knew of the great continent 
 of Africa was its Northern States bordering upon the 
 Medeterranean; the line of its Western coast as it was 
 given to the world by Prince Henry the Navigator 
 whose soul was inspired to discovery by the wonderful 
 exploits of Marco Polo, through the efforts of his naval 
 commander Vasco De Gama, who coasted down to the 
 cape of Good Hope, and pushed across the Indian Ocean. 
 
 On our Geographical maps of twenty years since, little 
 more was seen except a few towns along the Eastern 
 coast, while all the vast interior was an almost unspotted 
 blank, with its inscription in bold type:— u The Unex¬ 
 plored Region of Ethiopia.” The Nile was seen as a 
 
line running up through Egypt, with its sources lost in 
 the vast unexplored region and the dim romance of the 
 histories of Ptolemy and Herodotus. 
 
 But it is a singular fact that notwithstanding our blank 
 modern maps, we find in a map published by Ortelius 
 in 1573, a copy of which may be seen in the marvelous 
 collection of Geographical Society, two large lakes in 
 the midst of the portion that afterwards became a blank. 
 The larger one bore two names; its Northern limb that 
 of Zaire, and its Southern limb that of Zembre; the lesser 
 was called Zaflan. And both lakes are represented as 
 being the chief sources of the Nile. 
 
 In 1840 David Livingstone arrived at Cape Town to 
 enter upon his work as a Missionary. Very soon he 
 proceeded Northward to the town of Kuruman, where 
 he joined Dr. Moffatt and began his labors. There he 
 met and married the daughter of Dr. Moffatt, and 
 shortly afterwards advanced to Kolobeng and established 
 his mission. In 1843 he labored in Mobatza, and in 
 1845 in Chaunane. Up to 1847 he continued his labors 
 in that vicinity, making various journeys into the sur¬ 
 rounding country, among the Boer tribes, a savage and 
 treacherous people who were incapable of improvement. 
 While he was away from Kolobeng in 1847 among the 
 neighboring tribes, the heartless Boers made a descent 
 upon his mission and utterly destroyed it, burning his 
 house and stealing all his property, and murdering 
 hundreds of the people. Upon his return he found 
 himself almost a beggar, and surrounded by an openly 
 hostile people. Most men would have been crushed by 
 such a blow, but with Dr. Livingstone it served only as 
 
 6 
 
an incentive to still greater effort. Gazing upon the 
 smouldering embers of his house, and then upon his 
 defenceless wife and children, he made his resolve and 
 at once set about its execution. He hastened to Cape 
 Town with- his family, his noble soul animated by a 
 purpose that thrills us with admiration as we recall it. 
 He saw the immense difficulties before him, and realized 
 that he must henceforth be shackled with no domestic 
 burdens, and nerved himself to tear from his heart the 
 tenderest chords of his nature. He secured a passage 
 for his family to England, and with emotions we cannot 
 know, bade them God-speed, and smothered his feelings 
 in deep and dilligent study of the sciences undbr the 
 Royal Astronomer. Back to Kuruman, back to Kolo- 
 beng he went, turning his back upon all he loved, and 
 went to his scientific work on the arid sands of the 
 Kalahari Desert in 1849, and was soon rewarded in the 
 discovery of Lake Ngami. From there he crossed the 
 Tioghe River, and on to Scheletu’s Town, where he won 
 the chief to his support. He next discovered Lake 
 Kalai, and then pushed on to Sesheke in 1851, where 
 he won the confidence of another chief. From Sesheke 
 he started for the West coast, passing up the Leeba 
 River, stopping at Barotze and Sliinte, beyond which 
 he discovered Lake Dilolo. Leaving Lake Dilolo, the 
 bold-hearted wanderer encountered the most trying 
 journey he ever made. It was on that journey he 
 waded miles through the swamp, in the water up to his 
 neck, seeking for a ford. At last he succeeded, and 
 forced his way on to Njambi, and Cassange, thence 
 down the Ooanza River, reaching St. Paul de Loando in 
 
 7 
 
1854. After a rest of a few weeks to recover his wasted 
 strength and health, he turned back with the sublime 
 purpose of crossing the continent to the East coast. On 
 his way to Sesheke he visited Cabango in 1855. Leaving 
 Sesheke he discovered Garden Island, one of the most 
 charming spots in the world, for whose marvelous beauty 
 he called it the Garden. He next discovered a won¬ 
 derful waterfall, twice the height of Niagara, to which 
 he gave the name of Victoria. Forcing his way through 
 appalling obstacles, he reached the Zambezi Liver, and 
 then down that to Zumbo, then on to Tette and Sena, 
 finally reaching Quilimane in 1856. From there he 
 sailed for England after an absence of over sixteen years 
 having traveled in the unbroken wilds of the unknown 
 land, over 9000 miles. 
 
 In 1858 he returned to the East coast to enter upon 
 liis second journey. Passing up the Kongone Liver, 
 the South mouth of the Zambeze, to Sena, he completed 
 his equipment and left for Tette, which he reached in 
 September. From there he crossed to Chibisa, and 
 making that his base, made several journeys, the first 
 resulting in the discovery of Lake Sliinva, the second 
 to Lake Nyassa and along its Western shore, then back 
 to Tette. In May, 1860, he started from Tette for his 
 second visit to the Makololo country. He reached the 
 Chicova Plains June 1st, where he encountered great 
 difficulties. He reached Zumbo on the Loangwa Liver 
 June 26th, and Victoria Falls August 9th. After making 
 further explorations in that neighborhood, he passed on 
 to Sesheke to visit his old friend Sekeletu. Leturning 
 and taking a new route from Victoria Falls, he reached 
 
 8 
 
Sinemane October 5th, and Zumbo November 1st, and 
 Tette on the 23d. He journeyed slowly down to the 
 Kongone River, reaching his starting place January 4th, 
 1861. After a short rest, he made a second journey up 
 to Lake Nyassa. Upon his return to Shupanga, he was 
 doomed to a sad experience in the death of his devoted 
 and beloved wife. The terrible exposures to which she 
 had been subjected had sapped her life, and on the even¬ 
 ing of a soft and lovely Sunday, April 27th, 1862, she 
 left him in the midst of his vast explorations, and passed 
 to her rest. However sad his heart may have been, he 
 silently turned his face inland once more and buried his 
 grief in the deep shades of the unbroken forests, and 
 made several journeys. Having conceived the idea that 
 Lake Nyassa might be reached by way of the Rovuma 
 River, he sailed for that river August 6th, 1862, reaching 
 it the first of September. He at once began its ascent, 
 and progressed until the 25th, when he reached cataracts 
 at Nyamatolo which impeded his further progress, and 
 he returned. Soon after he received orders to return to 
 England, and sailed May 19th, 1863, having traveled 
 several thousand miles in addition to his former journeys. 
 
 In 1866, he reached Zanzibar for his third journey. 
 On the 28th of March he left Zanzibar for Mikindany 
 Bay, and began the second ascent of Rovuma River. 
 Reaching Nyamatolo, he left his boats and went over¬ 
 land,, passing South of Lake Nyassa, and taking an inland 
 route among the mountains, passed Northward through 
 the Lobisa Countrv, the home of the Babisa tribes, who 
 were largely engaged in the slave trade. Crossing the 
 valley of the Lowangwa, he passed along the Northern 
 
 9 
 
shore of Lake Liembi, which he thus discovered to be 
 separate from Lake Tanganyika. Thence Southward 
 again into the Lobisa Country, he changed his course to 
 the North-west to Lake Moero, then Southward to Lake 
 Bangweolo or Bemba, which he reached in 1868. Ex¬ 
 ploring that Lake and vicinity quite extensively, he 
 went back to Lake Moero, passing along the East coast, 
 then back to Cazembes, and from there went to Lake 
 Tanganyika and explored its Western course up to 
 Uguhha. He crossed to Ujiji in May, 1869, and rested 
 for a short time. He crossed again to Uguhha, and 
 started on a far Western tour, reaching Bambarre in 
 July. Making that a base, he explored Lake Kamalondo 
 to the South, and then the unbroken regions to the 
 North, where he discovered many large rivers. In 
 August, 1870, he left Bambarre for the farther West, 
 visiting Bakoos and Bagenya on the Lualaba River, and 
 discovered a large lake to which he gave the name of 
 Lincoln, in honor of our most illustrious and honored 
 citizen and Ex-President. 
 
 From Bagenya, in 1871, he made his way into the 
 wild regions to the East, where he found a primeval 
 forest with large villages about ten miles apart. He 
 returned to Bambarre and began his journey back to 
 Ujiji, where he arrived in October, 1871, thoroughly 
 exhausted and out of funds. Disappointed and sad, he 
 set himself to writing up his journal and otherwise 
 busying himself to keep away despair. And while thus 
 engaged, and waiting for—he knew not what—to his 
 astonishment and amazement, the intrepid Stanley, the 
 well supplied messenger from the New York Herald, 
 
 IO 
 
presented himself before the well-worn traveler with all 
 his heart most desired. Mr. Stanley has given the 
 world the account of the travels of the two together, 
 and of that I need not speak. 
 
 At Unyauyembe, Stanley and Doctor Livingstone 
 parted early in 1872, while Sir Samuel White Baker 
 was fighting the Bari in the great basin of the Nile, and 
 Alvan S. Southworth, another representative of the 
 New York Herald, and now the active and enterprising 
 Secretary of this honorable Society, was pushing his way 
 at the head of an expedition up that mysterious river 
 five hundred miles above Khartoum, the junction 
 of the Blue and White Niles. Soon after Stanley 
 left him, Dr. Livingstone started on his last journey. 
 Well worn and exhausted, the bold old pioneer started 
 once more alone, with his black comrades, for the wild 
 interior. His plan was to pass to the south of Lake 
 Tanganyika, to the south shore of Lake Bemba, then 
 northward to the west of the Conda Irugo mountains to 
 Lake Kamolondo, and from there to Lake Lincoln, and 
 thence to the large lake at the north, which has never 
 been visited. 
 
 He had passed to the south shore of Lake Bemba, when 
 lie found that his strength was failing, and that he could 
 not proceed. The unequaled trials, privations and ex¬ 
 posures through which he had passed during thirty 
 years of toil, such as no other man ever experienced, 
 together with the malaria of the jungle, had thoroughly 
 sapped his constitution, and with a sad heart—sad¬ 
 der than we know— he realized it. No one will ever 
 dare to picture the disappointment he must have expe- 
 
 11 
 
rienced as he gave up the last hope of his life. Weak 
 and helpless he crossed the lake to the north shore and 
 started for Unyanyembe, longing for home. But the 
 attempt was in vain. He had delayed too long. He 
 could continue his journey but a few days on his mules, 
 and then abandoned them for a litter which his faithful 
 attendants bore through the tangled forests for three 
 days, when he was compelled to halt. Then it was that 
 the longing of his weary soul for his home and loved 
 ones found utterance. He longed for the comforts of 
 civilization For thirty long, tedious years—and what 
 years to him!—the damp and poisonous soil of Africa 
 had been his couch and the starry vault of heaven his 
 canopy, and lie had always been satisfied ; but now when 
 the long march was drawing to a close he yearned for 
 other shelter, and in his agony he cried:— u Build me a 
 hut to die in.” The hut was built, rough and simple, 
 and they laid his sinking form therein. 
 
 From the deep, dark, cold valley, into which he was 
 slowly but surely slipping, came a chilling wave that 
 swept over his broken frame, and pressed out the bitter 
 cry:—“I am very cold; put more grass upon the hut.” 
 But neither more grass upon the hut, nor the kind 
 attentions of his one devoted and faithful attendant 
 could warm his blood. And there, alone, deep in the 
 thick forest shades of the land where he had fought so 
 long and nobly, a few miles from the beautiful shores of 
 Lake Bemba, his long march was ended. There he 
 pitched the tent; there he stacked his arms, and went 
 to his rest: — 
 
 “ Sustained and soothed 
 By an unfaltering trust, * * * 
 
 Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
 About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.” 
 
 I 2 
 
ADDRESS OF THE REV. WM. ADAMS, D.D. 
 
 The Rev. Dr. Adams said:— 
 
 Mr. President : — The occasion on which we are con¬ 
 vened is certainly unique and extraordinary. We are met 
 to do honor, not to one of our own fellow citizens for dis¬ 
 tinguished, patriotic services to his native land, but to one 
 who was personally a stranger to nearly all who are here 
 present, yet nevertheless was known and honored through¬ 
 out the civilized world. Last Saturday his body was in¬ 
 terred in Westminster Abbey. The procession which 
 followed his remains, we are told, filed its way through 
 crowds of sorrowful men. Men of the highest rank in 
 Church and State took part in the funeral pageant. 
 The Queen and royal family were represented amid this 
 token of general sorrow. And who was the man thus 
 honored by those high tokens of respect and assigned a 
 resting place in that spot which England has reserved 
 for her mighty dead ? He was not one of her own 
 statesmen who had charmed the British Senate by his 
 eloquence and was brought to sleep by the side of 
 Chatham, Fox and Canning. He was not one of her 
 great and brave admirals or generals brought to sleep 
 by the side of Wolfe and Nelson. He was not one of 
 her poets, philosophers or historians, like Gibbon, New¬ 
 ton or Macaulay, whose works will ever be regarded 
 as the grand jewels of English literature. No ; he was 
 a man of very humble origin and of most singular 
 
 r 3 
 
modesty—a man who, when he first gained notice, was 
 an unpretending Christian missionary going among 
 the pagans of Africa. As the opportunities opened the 
 sphere of his work enlarged, and he became one of the 
 most successful explorers of that mysterious continent, 
 which, since the days of Herodotus, has been a prob¬ 
 lem to the rest of the world. Having endured great 
 pain and following out the path he had chosen, with 
 great industry, he has become a contributor to the sum of 
 human knowledge in the cause of science, civilization 
 and Christianity. It is a good thing for us to honor 
 the memory of such a man. Dr. Livingstone was truly 
 a great man. What was his greatness ? That is the 
 question ; and it receives an answer from the author of 
 our religion. It is well when there is such a struggle 
 for political place and power, when there is so much done 
 to stimulate ambition, that the question which arose was 
 settled. Upon a certain day our Lord and His twelve 
 disciples were walking along the road, and He over¬ 
 heard them engaged in a very animated conversation. 
 He did not interrupt them at the time, but when 
 evening came He recalled the matter, and gave to 
 them, and through them to us, a lesson of immortal 
 wisdom, which, whenever and by whomsoever it has 
 been reduced to practice, has never failed to win the 
 approbation of all right-minded men. It seems that 
 that group of disciples, supposing that their Lord was 
 to found a political dynasty, were in dispute among 
 themselves which of them should be the greatest and 
 who should hold the highest office in that new political 
 empire. They seem to have been the prototypes of 
 
 14 
 
modern politicians. We do not know the particulars, 
 but Matthew w r as a tax-gatherer and familiar with as¬ 
 sessments, and we may suppose that he made claim for 
 the administration of the Custom-house. Peter, bold, 
 impetuous, noble-hearted, was not going to occupy any 
 inferior place ; and there was one man in the crowd 
 who undoubtedly looked pretty sharp at the Treasury. 
 u Whoever among you will be greatest, let him be your 
 minister,’ 7 he said. A new law was propounded that 
 moment that never was dreamed of by Greek or Roman. 
 It is well for us assembled in this western horizon to 
 meet together and do honor to the memory of a man 
 whose life and achievements were among the exam¬ 
 ples of this great law. The object of Dr. Living 
 stone was not to win the things associated with 
 greatness—ribbons, stars and titles. He subjected him¬ 
 self to trouble and labor in seeking the good of his 
 fellow man, and when he entered upon this labor he 
 chose the least attractive part of the world. He went 
 among barbarians, 40,000,000 of whom had been ex¬ 
 ported and sold into slavery. This was self-sacrifice. 
 What an endurance of pain and hardship he underwent 
 in this work we can hardly conceive; but he devoted 
 himself to it for the purpose of giving those barbarians 
 the light of the Gospel and lifting them into the dignity 
 of Christian civilization. It was, indeed, meet and 
 proper that queens, princes, lords and bishops should 
 vie in doing honor to such a great man. It is well for 
 ourselves to meet together to lift up this one idea, that 
 there is a greatness which is not to be measured by an 
 earthly standard—that there is some greatness other 
 
 15 
 
than devoting ourselves to making large fortunes; that 
 there is some greatness other than being eleeted to the 
 Board of Aldermen or even to the position of Senator 
 of such a State as Massachusetts; that there is some¬ 
 thing greater than to be lifted to a place where one can 
 inflate the currency as Eolus filled his bags with 
 wind. Dr. Livingstone worked at his plan, not 
 with spasmodic effort, but with untiring, unremitting 
 toil, severing himself from his family and from the civil¬ 
 ized world. He plunged into pestiferous jungles, waded 
 through swamps, climbed over mountains, passed 
 through regions filled with malaria, and explored dis¬ 
 tricts where he suffered from tropical heat. Fever 
 wasted his body to a skeleton, but he never thought of 
 going back. He was determined to accomplish all that 
 he could—all that was within the reach of human indus¬ 
 try. This was heroism of the greatest kind, different 
 from that of the man sitting on his charger in the heat 
 of battle when his blood was up, with the blast of war 
 and the shock of an army around him, knowing that the 
 eyes of his country are upon him and feeling that he 
 may win all the honors that ambition ever pictured, 
 just as Sir Garnet Wolseley, who has returned from a 
 different embassy in another part of Africa, and has 
 been granted titles and all manner of honors. Living 
 stone was alone in what he did. He acted in cool 
 blood. He had set his mind on a determined purpose 
 and he was not diverted from it. He felt he must die 
 among savages. He determined to do all in self-sacri- 
 fice for the advantage of the world. 1 am inclined to 
 suggest a thought in this connection, that there must be 
 
 16 
 
always a union between true science and Christianity, 
 which must always walk together in the world. Many 
 Americans have done much for the country and the pro¬ 
 motion of its fame by devoting their time to the work 
 of exploration and the cause of religion. They have 
 shown, in an admirable manner, that there is one re¬ 
 ligion which can be shared in by all mankind. We do 
 well to pay our respects to the memory of David 
 Livingstone. It was meet that one of our own coun¬ 
 trymen rescued him when he seemed to be utterly lost 
 in the wilderness of Africa—it is meet that we should 
 pay respect to his memory. His work is done. He 
 sleeps in Westminster Abbey. He was a true son of 
 science—a hero of civilization—a great missionary of 
 the cross. He is gone, but his works follow him. In 
 that day that prophecy has promised, when Ethiopia 
 shall stretch out her hands—when she shall be redressed 
 of the wrongs that prevail in her mysterious regions— 
 the name of Dr. Livingstone will shine as bright as the 
 stars in the firmament, for ever and ever. 
 
 
ADDRESS OF REV. HENRY WARD BEECHER. 
 
 Rev. Henry Ward Beecher was loudly cheered by the 
 spectators, on making his appearance on the platform. 
 Chief-Justice Daly said:— r The audience has introduced 
 Mr. Beecher, so it is, therefore, unnecessary for me to 
 do so. 
 
 Mr. Beecher said: 
 
 Mr. President : — I observe that there is a generous pro¬ 
 vision for you to-night, and that a number of speakers are 
 to follow me, and I shall, therefore, be brief in my remarks. 
 It is a good sign of the progress of civilization—not in 
 extent, but in quality—that communities are learning 
 gratitude ; and they are not learning with the men that 
 are dead alone, but are taking living men and giving to 
 them the joys of appreciation. For, one of the signs of 
 a superior nature is an exquisite susceptibility to kind¬ 
 nesses, to services rendered. It is a good thing for a 
 community to call up all its humblest servants and those 
 who serve it physically; those who by invention abbre¬ 
 viate the purposes of industry, making the condition of 
 the great common people easier, and who, by condensing 
 labor and cheapening it, give time to men for something 
 other than physical drudgery. We would not stint the 
 praise that goes to them that make life softer, and that, 
 in the midst of society, increase the comfort of the non¬ 
 heroic multitude. But there are those who give no 
 
 18 
 
immediate return, whose lives are fruitful. Such are 
 eminently explorers and discoverers. I am met, when 
 I speak of those who have so ceaselessly besieged, and 
 yet never taken, the fortress of the Northern Pole, with 
 the question,- “ What use is it? Suppose that the Polar 
 regions were ransacked and that men should shoot to 
 and fro over the imaginary Pole, what then ?” What 
 then! Nothing, if all men’s thought of value is some¬ 
 thing to buy or sell. Nothing, if you must have a 
 physical equivalent and something tangible and visible. 
 Much, if it be a value to add manhood to other man¬ 
 hoods ; for he who takes his life in his hand and fights 
 against nature, putting skill against force and the irre¬ 
 sistibleness of human will against the irresistibleness of 
 nature in her frigid zone, adds little to territory but 
 much to manhood, and raises the whole thought which 
 we entertain of heroism; and by fortitude, by patience, 
 by endurance, by sturdy courage and by at least a few 
 discoveries, brings back to us a treasure which makes 
 the whole generation richer. For that which lifts the 
 thought of man as with the power divine, that which 
 enlarges the sense of being, is itself a gift, compared 
 with which silver and gold are as dross. When men, 
 therefore, have perilled their lives and laid them down 
 in the service of science, they may not have added 
 many facts, they may not have discovered and added 
 many truths; but they have left a record which will 
 make society so much richer that it is worth all that 
 they have suffered. And no men are doing more for us 
 than those men who, in the study, or in the observatory, 
 or in remote parts of the earth, are bringing general 
 
 l 9 
 

 knowledge to the service of mankind by ways which 
 make mankind richer—by the examples and the suffer¬ 
 ing and the heroism of those that achieve these things. 
 We come to-night, Fellows of the Geographical Society, 
 to pay our respect—no, to lay the offering of our thanks 
 before the name of one simple as a child and great as 
 any man in our time has been— David Livingstone —an 
 honorary member, I believe, sir, of this Geographical So¬ 
 ciety, to which society, if not the very first, at least, per¬ 
 haps the second, communication of his missionary explora¬ 
 tions was made—one which, to the very last, we had 
 occasion to remember with gratitude and with honor. 
 It is fitting, therefore, that this society should make 
 mention of his name and appoint an evening for the 
 celebration in which we are now actors. That great 
 wonder—that continent of Africa! If I had selected a 
 place in which to play the hero, that would have been 
 the last one suggested to my choice. Until very recently 
 its swarming population was not in good odor with 
 us. There have been a thousand reasons why we 
 praised the European and the Caucasian and were 
 tolerant even of the Tartar and the Mongol; but the 
 African has been beneath contempt, or, if at all tolerated, 
 it was only as we found him in the far antiquity, the 
 mythical African of a remote and improbable civiliza¬ 
 tion. That great continent, which has been known for 
 thousands of years and is almost absolutely unknown, 
 the wonder of history and a phenomenon of geography, 
 near to civilization and on its own borders carrying the 
 earliest, surrounded again and again, encircled by fleets 
 and yet unpierced, defended by a thousand obstacles to 
 
 20 
 
discovery, it remains to-day the enigma of geography. 
 To have gone forth to explore that continent, had one 
 attempted it as a purpose and an ambition, would have 
 been remarkable. But David Livingstone went on no 
 such errand.' He went as a simple missionary, who was 
 as far from expecting the results which have transpired 
 in his life as any person could have been. Going to 
 South Africa he went to preach the gospel to the be¬ 
 nighted. He gave himself to this service by almost 
 identifying himself with the population. He left civili¬ 
 zation behind him and adopted the manners of the 
 natives; he almost lived as the savages live. He learned 
 thus their language, he entered into their sympathies 
 and their feelings, he became as one of them. And if 
 at that stage of his life one had looked upon it he would 
 have asked, u What is all this for? How can a man of 
 any sympathy bury himself up in this darkness, and live 
 among brutal savages, and experience pleasure or joy?” 
 But he was proving, unknown to himself, the declaration 
 that u he that abaseth himself shall be exalted.” For it 
 was in this school that he was gaining the power to 
 achieve the things that afterwards made his name illus¬ 
 trious. He had learned the people and their manners. 
 He had learned the language by which his labor was 
 facilitated. Then, when disaster came upon him and all 
 his missionary hopes of exploration, to open that conti¬ 
 nent to Christianity, to commerce, to civilization, were 
 apparently overthrown when he began this second stage 
 of his work, at every step of it he reaped the benefit 
 which accrued from his (as we might say) humble 
 services at a primary school of missionary labor. The 
 
records of his journey are written, as I think, with exqui¬ 
 site simplicity and truthfulness. I know of no book 
 more fascinating, not even, perhaps, “Robinson Crusoe,” 
 for Defoe’s style was hardly more simple than was Liv¬ 
 ingstone’s. I know it, because for years it has lain in 
 my dining-room, and instead of dessert I have taken 
 “Livingstone,” reading while others ate, until it has 
 become almost as familiar to me as to my boyhood was 
 “ Robinson Crusoe.” I know of no book that so enables. 
 
 one to look into the interior of a man—a man with 
 * 
 
 vanity, but without improper pride, a man showing 
 manhood at every step, and often under circumstances 
 the most difficult—-just such a man in the wilds of 
 Africa, self-respecting, energetic, patient, persevering, 
 manly in every way, as if he were walking before an 
 audience at London or were in the midst of the plaudits 
 of New-York. He showed himself more than a man— 
 he was a diplomatist. It may be difficult to be a diplo¬ 
 matist among civilized nations when Greek meets Greek, 
 
 where fierce and artful expedients are pitted against 
 
 * 
 
 each other; but to be a diplomatist in the woods or 
 among savages is a great tiling. To be a diplomatist 
 with an army or a nation at your back is one thing ; to 
 be alone with a few Makolulu servants about you, with 
 no recognized civil Powers near you but the kings and 
 princes all through Southern Africa, is another thing. 
 In all this he was a master man. Almost alone 
 he traversed thousands of miles, first to the West¬ 
 ern Coast, then back to the Eastern Coast, and then 
 afterwards that network of travel in the center of Africa, 
 at every step relying on his own ingenuity, honesty and 
 
 22 
 
knowledge of the natives. He persevered where hun¬ 
 dreds of men would have perished by their own want of 
 experience or wisdom. Unscathed from out of a thou¬ 
 sand dangers, he persevered until, not by the hand of 
 man, but by the insidious encroachments of disease, he 
 was laid away forever. This is a man who, if he had 
 discovered no lake, if he had measured no mountain or 
 
 ’ 9 
 
 revealed no valleys, would have added to the number 
 of those by whom our children, looking back upon, will ' 
 feel themselves ennobled, and aspiration will follow the 
 reading of the life of Livingstone as long as a generous 
 sentiment remains in the young heart. But in this 
 great exploration the man was not seeking merely 
 curious things; he was not prompted by that curious 
 vagabondism which inspires many Englishmen to climb 
 the Alps or to hunt throughout Southern Africa. His 
 eye was perpetually upon the features of nature, loving 
 science and adding to her treasure. He surveyed the 
 fields and opportunities, and he descried afar the civili¬ 
 zation that was one day to take possession of Southern 
 and Central Africa. All the way through he thought 
 how to extinguish the abominations, cruelties and inhu¬ 
 manities of the slave trade; everywhere, and higher 
 than all these, how the name of his Master should be 
 made honorable in the lives and conversion of these 
 swarming myriads of Central Africa. Never were nobler 
 motives grouped together. Never was a man for so 
 many years so successful in conducting an enterprise 
 with so few resources, under the inspiration of motives 
 so high. When at last lie fell he had done a good work, 
 and yet, like Moses, he only saw the promised land, but 
 
 23 
 
was not suffered to enter it. His geographical pride 
 was to discover the sources of the Nile. He died without 
 knowing that he had discovered them. 
 
 Fellow citizens, two great expeditions, almost at the 
 same time, left the Western and Eastern coasts of Africa, 
 wending their way towards Great Britain. On the west 
 a British General, who deserves well of his country, 
 who had conducted her flag honorably, had sub¬ 
 dued rebellion and maintained the dignity as well 
 as the rights of the country; on the east they bore 
 the body of the dead explorer—the one and the 
 other—towards the fatherland. As the living hero came, 
 all England rose rejoicingly; the bells rang, the trumpets 
 sounded, the streets were thronged and all the people 
 acclaimed u Bravo!” and he had deserved it. But a little 
 space and the bells were tolled, and again the trumpets 
 resounded and the streets were filled and the whole 
 people were hushed; for they followed a bier. It was 
 no general, but it was a simple man, who had gone out 
 a missionary and had come back a hero. They bore him 
 into Westminster Abbey. He lies among the honored 
 dead of that national mausoleum, and no nobler form 
 ever passed through its portal. Of the two—the living 
 hero, justly honored and endeared to his country, and 
 the explorer who carried at once in his heart the love 
 of Gon and the love of man—the dead hero lying in 
 Westminster Abbey I had rather be than the living 
 general. England took with honor the living and the 
 dead, and was herself honored in receiving them both, 
 but more honored in the reception of the dead than the 
 living—of this great man, who has been among the 
 
 24 
 
chiefest of explorers, the noblest of men, the truest of 
 Christians among those heroes that have exalted hu¬ 
 manity and made it easier in all time for men to do 
 great deeds patiently, humbly and well. 
 
 2 5 
 
ADDRESS OF DR. I. I. HAYES. 
 
 Mr. President, Fellows of the Geographical So¬ 
 ciety, Ladies and Gentlemen:— I am here to-night to 
 speak of Dr. Livingstone as a traveler. Mr. Beecher 
 has already pictured to you many of his great achieve¬ 
 ments in that direction, and they have been made the 
 more clear to you through the careful geographical de¬ 
 scriptions of Major Dane, while Dr. Adams, with his 
 usual eloquence, has portrayed the missionary life of 
 that extraordinary man whose body was, on Saturday 
 last, laid away with the mighty dead in Westminster 
 Abbey—that mausoleum of the great. 
 
 If I do not feel that I have the power fully to analyze 
 the character of Dr. Livingstone as a traveler, there is 
 perhaps one point upon which I may freely dwell with 
 justice to the living and the dead. It is the spirit by 
 which that great traveler was animated, and with which 
 no man of any time was so completely filled since Marco 
 Polo first taught the world what a traveler might be. 
 It is the Spirit of Discovery which guided his whole 
 life. 
 
 I have often asked myself, u Why is it that Dr. Living¬ 
 stone appeals so strongly to our sympathies? Why is 
 it that to-day the thought of the world centres about the 
 name of that great man? Why is it that the Royal 
 Geographical Society of London and the American 
 Geographical Society of New-York should vie with each 
 other in paying homage to his memory ? Why is it that 
 
 26 
 
the great throbbing heart of the whole world has so 
 promptly and so earnestly responded to the energetic 
 efforts of the New-York Herald to reclaim the lost wan¬ 
 derer and bring him back again to civilization ?” and the 
 answer comes :—It is because we find in him strongly ex¬ 
 pressed a law of our being which, more or less, governs us 
 all. It is that we all seek after hidden things in nature— 
 seek to discover something that is new, to experience a 
 new emotion in a new triumph, to do something that may 
 enlarge our mental and material vision: it may be, 
 something that u the world will not willingly let die.” 
 For are we not all natural born travelers? True, we 
 are governed by different desires. One travels to gratify 
 a roving curiosity and satisfy undefined fancies; one de¬ 
 sires to wander by the sea and listen to what the wild 
 waves are ever saying; another to climb some dangerous 
 mountain height; another to ramble through the great 
 cities of a foreign land; another to roam among the 
 ruins of the past. But Livingstone’s was a higher, a 
 nobler ambition than any of these ; for his ambition was 
 to tread the wilds of unknown lands, and bring to light 
 that which had been so long hidden from all the world. 
 
 While we readily discover in the ordinary traveler a 
 vein of selfish gratification—a desire simply to please 
 him or herself—we find in the traveler Livingstone 
 that which arouses our highest admiration, the noblest 
 spirit that ever animated man—the spirit of self-sacrifice 
 for the benefit of his fellows. That there was a degree 
 of pride in all he attempted to do we must admit, 
 but it was a pride which claims our sympathy 
 and respect. It was the same pride which caused 
 
 2 7 
 
Columbus to face the dangers of the great unknown sea; 
 it was the same pride that thrilled Magellan, when in 
 the midst of mutiny, as he emerged from the straits 
 which bear his illustrious name into the broad, sweeping 
 waters of the Pacific, he answered the demand to turn 
 back, in dread of prospective starvation, “We will on, 
 on to the West; we may eat the skins from our yards, 
 but we will not turn back.” It was the same pride that 
 led the immortal Franklin to crowd his way among the 
 crushing icebergs of the North to find the pathway to 
 the Pole. 
 
 David Livingstone was a great traveler; and, my 
 friends, that means much. A man may travel all the 
 world over; he may visit every land, he may rest in 
 every clime, he may speak every tongue ; he may have 
 been entertained by the great of every people, and yet 
 not be a great traveler. When St. Paul, near the close 
 of his unequalled career, after having addressed himself 
 to vast throngs of almost every people of his time, 
 uttered these words, u I have been made all things unto 
 all men,” he defined truly the character of the great 
 traveler. 
 
 The great traveler is one who leaves no enemies in 
 his rear, for he assimilates himself to the people about 
 him. Staff in hand he pushes out into untrodden path¬ 
 ways, fearless and free, recognizing all men as his 
 common brethren. Such a man was Marco Polo, and 
 such a man was David Livingstone. 
 
 For the space of a generation Marco Polo traversed 
 the hitherto unknown regions of Central Asia, passing 
 without fear among the Tartar tribes, wherever he went 
 
 28 
 
 
making friends, and finding everywhere unknown tribes 
 eagerly awaiting his approach, until at length he reached 
 the mighty monarch of the East—the great Khublai 
 Khan, who, while ruling over countless millions of peo¬ 
 ple, made the traveler his trusted counselor. And now 
 in later times we find another such traveler for the 
 space of a generation wandering through Central Africa. 
 It is Livingstone, who, like Marco Polo, traversed 
 hitherto unknown regions, passing from country to 
 country and from tribe to tribe, oftentimes in the midst 
 of wars and bloodshed, and was, like Marco Polo, not 
 molested in his course by hostile demonstrations; for he 
 was the instinctively recognized friend of all, the faith¬ 
 ful and unquestioned ally of mankind everywhere, and 
 with his patent of nobility stamped upon his forehead 
 we see him moving freely on his course toward the 
 achievement of his great mission. He made himself 
 all things unto all men. Adapting himself to their situ¬ 
 ation, always appreciating their condition, abusing none 
 of their prejudices, never with violence attacking their 
 superstitions, never seeking to instruct them beyond 
 their capacity to learn, kind and gentle always, cheerful 
 always, loving always, he endeared himself to every 
 one he met. 
 
 Marco Polo and David Livingstone stand out as the 
 typical travelers of different epochs. The one traversed 
 the lands of the Orient, grew rich and told the story of 
 a life which set the world ablaze with enterprise, and 
 brought about the discovery of America. The other 
 traversed lands that were poor in what we call wealth, 
 but he inaugurated a series of discoveries which led to 
 
 2 9 
 
the sources of the Nile, and caused the mystery to clear 
 away from the most interesting geographical problem of 
 our time. 
 
 The whole secret of success with the traveler rests in 
 the heart and not in the pocket. It is the manhood of 
 the traveler that achieves success. Above all things, 
 the traveler must be sincere. 
 
 In illustration of the self confidence, of sincerity, of 
 motive and singleness of purpose in the accomplishment 
 of an aim among uncivilized peoples, let me recall to 
 you the story of Captain Lyon, who, when about to 
 start for Africa, had a protracted consultation with the 
 official committee. Leaving them at length to discuss 
 in private the outfit with which he was to be supplied, 
 Captain Lyon strolled down the street. Returning in 
 half an hour, he found them still in consultation. The 
 chairman said, “Captain, we have been discussing your 
 outfit, but have not yet quite arrived at a conclusion as 
 to what it should be; we would be glad to have some 
 suggestions.” The Captain promptly replied, u 0! don’t 
 trouble yourselves gentlemen, my outfit is already pur¬ 
 chased.” “Indeed!” exclaimed they all in concert. 
 “Yes; I bought it while I was out, and here it is,” 
 whereupon he produced a tin cup. Much wondering, 
 they asked what he meant, “Why,” said he, “I can 
 drink from that, I can cook my meals in that, if neces¬ 
 sary, and as for the rest, I trust to the people. I would 
 advise every traveler to buy a silver cup if he can afford 
 it, as it will last longer, but I can only afford a tin one.” 
 
 Buy a tin cup and trust to the people! Trust to the 
 people! The man who did this heartily was never yet 
 
 3° 
 
disappointed. The man who never lied to the people 
 by word or manner was never harmed, but has passed 
 safely through their lands, were they even the veriest 
 savages. 
 
 A great truth underlies this story. It is this—success 
 cannot be achieved without the friendship of the people, 
 and that once gained is far more than treasures of gold, 
 and silver, and precious stones. But in all this, there 
 must be natural, unfeigned sincerity. One may be a 
 hypocrite in civilized life and succeed in his desires by 
 so doing, but he cannot palm off such broken wares 
 upon the savage 
 
 David Livingstone possessed all these qualities of the 
 great traveler; and besides a cool courage, he had calm 
 judgment and great discretion, but, over and above all, 
 he was the embodiment of truth itself u To ride a 
 horse, to bend the bow, to speak the truth,” was to be 
 a man in ancient Norseland. “A man, a word,” it be¬ 
 came, later—and Livingstone was a true son of his 
 ancestors. And he possessed the loftiest bravery. That 
 man is not necessarily brave who cuts his way through 
 great obstacles at the head of an army, and who takes 
 the lives of those who oppose his onward march; but he 
 is truly brave who coolly and calmly encounters what¬ 
 ever lies in his pathway, and by discreet calculation 
 makes his way around opposing obstacles, and wins to 
 his side all whom he meets, claiming their confidence 
 and support, and causing them to become his assistants 
 rather than his opponents, and when he has departed, 
 leaves behind him a memory of love, and kindness, and 
 simplicity, that will cause the barbarous companions of 
 
 3 1 
 
his toil to speak of him with tender veneration. This is 
 the true hero, and such a hero was he whose memory 
 we have gathered here to honor. 
 
 David Livingstone had a sincere desire to benefit 
 mankind. It was not alone that he was kind to the 
 ignorant savage who waited on him, and helped him 
 forward on his journey; he desired to see the world 
 improved by the extension of knowledge. u To diffuse 
 knowledge among men,” was the purpose of the liberal 
 minded Smithson ; but to create knowledge was the aim 
 of Livingstone ; and in this he saw a halo of light to 
 guide coming generations to a higher level of manhood 
 and of brotherhood. This, as it seems to me, was the 
 guiding star of his life, and his record shall, in conse¬ 
 quence, live through all time. From where the Atlantic 
 rolls its hoarse notes along the Western coast, to where 
 the spice-laden breezes of the Indies chime their melo¬ 
 dies in the East; on the borders of the inland seas, along 
 the banks of the sluggish streams, throughout the deep, 
 dark shades of the almost impenetrable forests, Afric’s 
 dusky children shall tell from generation to generation, 
 of the mighty deeds, the unwavering valor, the daunt¬ 
 less courage, the mild and gentle manners of the great 
 white man who passed for a quarter of a century up 
 and down along their sunny fountains like an angel of 
 mercy. 
 
 I can comprehend and sympathise with the throbbings 
 of that great man’s soul, as isolated from home and kin¬ 
 dred he wandered among the savage tribes, in the midst 
 of trials and obstacles, in search of the great object of 
 his restless ambition. I think I can understand his 
 
 3 2 
 
feelings as he forced his way through impediment after 
 impediment, never tiring, never fainting, never yielding 
 whatever his privations, thinking not of the life he was 
 exhausting, forgetting the sacrifices he was making in 
 pursuit of his great aim, when from amidst the dark and 
 gloomy shades of those unbroken wilds first flashed upon 
 his bewildered gaze the waters of the inland sea, which 
 he at first believed to be the fountain of the Nile, and I 
 think I am not a stranger to the emotions he must have 
 experienced, when, upon further exploration, his seem¬ 
 ing success paled into disappointment; for, when I recall 
 that experience of his life, I remember my own emotions 
 as I stood upon the shores of the open sea beneath the 
 Pole, after three perilous attempts, and realized that my 
 ship, which should have taken me to the goal within my 
 reach, was frozen fast in the ice hundreds of miles behind 
 me. 
 
 I think I understand the purpose that animated him 
 when he refused to accompany the intrepid Stanley 
 back to civilization, and decided once more, in his old 
 age and wasted strength, alone to push out still further 
 in search of the dream of his life; for after twenty years 
 of struggle and disappointment I have not yet abandoned 
 my fixed and steadfast purpose to reach the North Pole 
 by way of Smith’s Sound. 
 
 I seem to see him as he wends his way, leading his 
 savage followers, who cling to him with blind enthusi¬ 
 asm, unable to comprehend why the white man should 
 always choose danger and face death, rather than quiet 
 and safety. Ah! that man was seeking truth, and he 
 knew no other following. 
 
 
 33 
 
& 
 
 We know not yet the full measure of his achievements, 
 We only know that, steadfast to duty, he had finished 
 his work, and had finally turned his face homeward, 
 when the grim messenger he had so often thwarted, met 
 him on the way and struck the fatal blow, and he fell 
 when he had won his victory, leaving behind him an 
 example of fortitude and devotion that shall be an ex¬ 
 ample to the latest generations. 
 
 His work is done, and well he did it; and they have 
 laid him away 
 
 “In the great Minster’s transept, where light like glories fall; 
 
 And the sweet choir sings, and the organ rings 
 Along the emblazoned wall.” 
 
 And here the curtain drops upon a life. It is not 
 given to us to know more than that which we have 
 seen, but what we have seen gives us hope and strength¬ 
 ens our courage. We have watched this great man’s 
 career. We have seen him hand in hand with his two 
 guiding spirits—the spirit of discovery and the spirit of 
 the Christian faith. Future generations only can tell 
 the harvest to be gathered for civilization from the seed 
 he has sown. He has indeed planted the germ that shall 
 yet cause the wilderness to bud and blossom as the rose. 
 He has erected for himself in man’s affections a monu¬ 
 ment that shall endure long after the grand old pile, 
 which now enshrines his ashes, shall have crumbled away 
 to dust and been forgotten. Empires may rise and fall; 
 nations may be blotted out, and known no’more; rulers, 
 statesmen, warriors, lost in oblivion ; but the name of the 
 great traveler whom we mourn to-day, shall never fade 
 while the spirit of Chistianity and the love of truth 
 animate the souls of men. 
 
 34 
 
ADDRESS OF REV. NOAH HUNT SCHENCK, D.D. 
 
 OF BROOKLYN. 
 
 Mr. President : — I do not flatter myself, that it is at 
 all within the range of my poor ability to contribute to 
 the interest of this occasion after the eloquent and ex¬ 
 haustive deliverances of the distinguished men who have 
 preceded me. Still I would essay the discharge of the 
 pleasing duty you have imposed, and weaving into ex¬ 
 pression certain sentiments of appreciation, lay them as 
 a wreath of immortelles upon the tomb of Livingstone. 
 
 The possibilities of human development have no finer 
 illustration, than in the story of him whose merit and 
 memory we are met to honor. A few days since, the 
 noblest of the land gathered in London under the groined 
 arches of 
 
 “ -that Temple where the dead 
 
 Are honored by the nation,” 
 
 to pay the ultimate tributes of earth to all that was left 
 of the great African Missionary and Explorer, committing 
 in solemn services the body to the ground, and the soul 
 to the God that gave it—leaving the honored ashes in 
 the mausoleum of England’s mighty dead, dropping upon 
 them the tears of affection, and offering over them a 
 reverential Laus Deo that such a man had been given to 
 the age and race, not only because of the good he had 
 done, but for the illustration he gave of elevated manhood. 
 
 35 
 
It is less than sixty years ago that David Livingstone 
 was born. He was fortunate in the majestic elements of 
 natural grandeur that environed the spot of his nativity. 
 It was on the beautiful banks of the Clyde, and near 
 where Ben Lomond lifts his “bald and towering crest, 1 ’ 
 and almost in the shadow of Dumbarton’s u castellated 
 crag.” Ilis father was a poor shopman, of whom there 
 is little to say, except the honorable tradition, that “he 
 was too honest to get rich.” The res angustce domi soon 
 compelled young Livingstone to seek elsewhere for a 
 livelihood, and for many years he threw the shuttle as a 
 weaver’s boy. But his mind meantime was busy, and 
 his time was rigidly economised. There were invisible 
 threads with which he was concurrently occupied,— 
 weaving in the warp and woof of character elements of 
 beauty and utility, which, when afterward touched up by 
 the hand of experience, presented to the world a finished 
 specimen of human tapestry. 
 
 When somewhat relieved from the pressure of toiling 
 for his daily bread, Livingstone devoted himself to the 
 study of Medicine, and afterward to careful preparation 
 for the Christian ministry. He proposed going to China, 
 but, upon the showing that his services could be more 
 useful in South Africa, he promptly accepted this as the 
 scene of his evangelizing labors. And, for one-third of 
 a century, he has made his home in that land over which 
 the pall of barbarism has so mysteriously rested. ITis 
 zeal, modesty, self-sacrifice, and single-hearted devotion 
 to the great end contemplated first and last, are unpar- 
 elleled in the history of missions and scientific exploration. 
 He carried into his missionary effort, in well ordered 
 
 3 6 
 
methods, an intelligence and discriminating sympathy, 
 which ensured a peculiar and unprecedented success, 
 and which has won for his work a world-wide approba¬ 
 tion. But appealing from the rigid conventions of mis¬ 
 sionary administration, Livingstone proposed and pushed 
 the grand idea that Christianity and Science, as the twin 
 pioneers of the highest civilization, were necessary for 
 the moral redemption of Africa. Under this inspiration 
 he threaded the mazes of wilderness and desert, planting 
 the foot of exploration along routes never before pursued, 
 except by the savage sons of Ham ; telling of Christ to 
 those who had never before heard the name; and offering 
 devotions where the rocks had never echoed the sound 
 and the air never been moved by the pulsations of prayer. 
 The results of all this are in part matters of history and 
 scientific record. But the consequences shall be ever- 
 flowing, as a fountain once broken forth and affluently 
 fed by hidden but exhaustless reservoirs. But, alas! the 
 hand that touched the rock and opened a way for the 
 waters, is paralyzed in death. And the great man died 
 witli his harness on. He fell upon the held. But they 
 have brought him home to sleep. They have laid him 
 to rest amidst the best and the bravest. Around him are 
 heroes, and statesmen, and poets. Men of art, men of 
 letters, and men of sublime philanthropy. But amidst 
 the rich memorials of sleeping greatness, there is no 
 
 “ Storied urn or animated bust,” 
 
 whose legends tell of a nobler life than that of David 
 Livingstone. 
 
 The splendid pageant of his obsequies was a fitting 
 close to the story of a career at once so modest and so 
 
 37 
 
majestic,—begun in a little hamlet in the romantic High¬ 
 lands of Scotland, pursued for the whole work-time of 
 life in the wilds of Africa, and concluded amidst the 
 architectural glories of the great cathedral where society 
 and the state, by their representatives of highest worth 
 and rank, thronged the historic aisles, and vied with each 
 other to do reverence to the honored dead. Hither came 
 Livingstone, ushered by no such Valhalla cry as that 
 which is said to have burst from Britain’s heroes, and 
 spurred the hot desire for fame, when bracing to the 
 shock of battle, “Victory, or Westminster Abbey;” but 
 hither was he brought from a lonely exile, where in 
 silence and solitude he wrought at his life-task, with 
 the love of Man for his inspiration, and the love of God 
 for his reward. 
 
 But, turning from the spectacle of his august sepulture, 
 and before the echoes of the great civic requiem have 
 floated quite away, may we not profitably inquire into 
 the springs of this eminent appreciation of Livingstone. 
 Why is it that England honors, why do we and all the 
 world honor him? The secret of this man’s greatness, I 
 take to be, was, that he made the most of what was in him. 
 He put himself to the best use, and he did his work well. 
 
 The theory of Livingstone’s life has not been properly 
 apprehended in certain quarters. He has been taken to 
 task for giving up the simple career of the missionary 
 to put on the mantle of the scientific traveler, and enter 
 upon the secular engagements of exploration. But how 
 partial and prejudiced the judgment of such superficial- 
 ists! How utterly inadequate the scope of such a vision 
 to analyze the character or trace the circumference of 
 
 38 
 
the great sentiment that charged the man! That senti¬ 
 ment, and it was alike consistent in detail and duration, 
 that sentiment was the desire to do the largest amount 
 of good in his day to the human race. Actuated by this 
 feeling he first accepted the commission of Christ, and 
 labored zealously as a missionary. And let it be broadly 
 published, and everywhere accepted .for true, that he 
 was not a whit the less a missionary when he became an 
 explorer. On the contrary, this was only the widening 
 of the field and the augmenting of his own effort, and 
 the pioneering and preparing the way for others who 
 should follow him. 
 
 For ten or twelve years, Livingstone, though engaged 
 in the ordinary duties of a missionary at Kuruman and 
 Kolebeng was, one may say, in reality by this very ex¬ 
 perience, qualifying himself for his subsequent and more 
 important work. Early in this period, from 1840 to 1844, 
 he addressed himself not only to the study of the native 
 dialects, but even more especially to the ways and wants 
 of the people, their peculiar habits of thought, and 
 domestic life. To this end he made his home with them, 
 and became as one of themselves. Thus securing an 
 introduction to and a thorough knowledge of the inner 
 life of the natives, he ere long established a sympathetic 
 relationship; and, in conseqnence, a certain magnetic 
 mastery. Near the termination of this twelve-year term 
 of comparatively stationary work, Livingstone made sev¬ 
 eral exploring excursions, one extending as far as the Zam¬ 
 bezi, and from the last of which he returned to find that 
 Kolebeng had been overrun by the Dutch Boers ; many of 
 his people killed or carried into captivity; the whole set- 
 
 39 
 
tlement devastated and left in utter desolation, and the 
 mission and its property utterly ruined by pillage, fire 
 and sword. This was the turning-point of his whole 
 career. Before him were the wrecks of more than ten 
 years of earnest effort. And this because of the greed 
 and brutality of men who were of the white race of the 
 North, and who had lived under the influences of a 
 Christian civilization. One such illustration was enough 
 to satisfy this Missionary that the evangelization of Africa 
 was not to be accomplished by a few single-handed 
 missionary efforts at remote and isolated pbints; but 
 rather that it was to be brought about by introducing 
 Christianity at work; that is, inviting the whole of the 
 machinery of our civilization to the wilds of Africa. 
 And so lie resolved to give his life to prepare the way 
 for it, by opening up the river highways, and disclosing 
 the inland seas, and investigating the fertility of soil, 
 and cataloguing the natural products of forest, field and 
 mine. And more than this, to plant the seeds of sym¬ 
 pathy and friendly feeling in the hearts of the tribes he 
 should encounter in his way, preaching the truth of 
 Christ not onlv in the revealed theories, but much more 
 by the beauty of character and the eloquence of example. 
 
 And so it was, that he returned to the Cape, sent his 
 family to England, and, after a brief season of scientific 
 study under the Royal Astronomer, set his face to the 
 north, and began his wonderful journeys of discovery 
 and scientific observation which pursued lines of adven¬ 
 ture reaching out for eleven thousand miles, and which 
 covered a period of more than twenty years. Let others, 
 better qualified, rehearse the invaluable results to Geo- 
 
 40 
 
graphical Science, but from my point of observation, I 
 am bold to say, that the moral consequences of Living¬ 
 stone’s African embassy are incalculably great. llis 
 whole career in that land is a gospel epic. Aside from 
 his faithful and never suspended oral deliverances of re¬ 
 vealed truth, he preached by life as no man had ever 
 done by tongue. His every act was at once a sermon and 
 a practical illustration. He has left records which will 
 become enduring traditions with the tribes and the 
 localities; and long after you and I, Mr. President, 
 shall have'passed away, shall the redeemed generations 
 rehearse with gratitude to God the memories of Living¬ 
 stone, the pioneer and prophet of Africa’s civil and 
 religious renovation! 
 
 To the working out of his great undertaking, Living¬ 
 stone invited neither personal co-operation in the field 
 nor the backing of state patronage at home. He went 
 forth single-handed and alone, like the shepherd boy of 
 Israel, but strong in the consciousness of divine benedic¬ 
 tion. He marshal l ed the forces of his remarkable personal 
 character, and with these for the weapons of his warfare 
 manfully breasted the perils and the difficulties that 
 bristled all along his path. 
 
 I regret that I have only space to speak a word 
 of the moral forces which armed and mailed this 
 man as he prosecuted his great adventures. It would 
 lie alike instructive and interesting to cite from the 
 abundant illustrations which crowd the eventful record 
 of his long and laborious journeyings. But without such 
 corroboration, I am free to claim for Livingstone, first 
 of all, and most conspicuously, great singleness of purpose. 
 
 
 41 
 
From the hamlet on the Clyde to the rude hut which 
 canopied his Ethiopian death bed, the avowed and 
 recorded aim and end of his life was never for a moment 
 blurred or overwritten. Nothing ever diverted him from 
 the line of his effort, and if he had no other element of 
 distinction, this alone would have signalized his career. 
 
 But to this oneness of idea and effort were appended, 
 as agents of execution, a determination and fearlessness 
 almost, if not quite, exceptional in the record of bold 
 exploration. When we remember that he entered upon 
 his expeditions into unknown regions without the possi¬ 
 bility of help in case of disaster; that he encountered 
 the perils of wild beasts and the more fearful craft and 
 cunning of the wild and savage aborigines; that he was 
 exposed to the poisonous malaria of swamp and jungle; 
 that for months together he was dependent upon the 
 precarious products* of the forest and stream for the 
 means of sustaining life, and, that under a tropical sun 
 fatiguing marches and wasting fevers were to be accepted 
 of necessity, as enfeebling frictions if not fatal foes;—of 
 a surety, nothing less than a sublime heroism could have 
 nerved a man for such threatening and danger-fraught 
 ventures. But with Livingstone one expedition followed 
 another with determination undaunted, with a purpose 
 and programme into which the element of fear never 
 entered. 
 
 The modesty and, utter absence of self-assertion in 
 Livingstone are entitled to honorable mention. I have 
 never read of a man who seemed to claim so little for 
 himself. With him the individual was lost to view in the 
 magnitude of the cause. Here we have the crucial test of 
 
 42 
 
true greatness. There is not a single incident in the 
 career before us that conflicts with this. On the contrary, 
 recall for illustration, the signal instance of Livingstone’s 
 disappointment, for disappointment it must have been, 
 in not being the first to publish the true explanation of 
 the geological structure of Central South Africa. Many 
 theories had been advanced, all of which Livingstone 
 had by topographical observation found to be inaccurate. 
 The true idea he was the first to derive from local investiga¬ 
 tion, and when he came to report the important scientific 
 fact that the region of his explorations was a great con¬ 
 cave stratification, he then learned that Sir Roderick 
 Murchison had already demonstrated before the Royal 
 Geographical Society, years before, the same conclusion, 
 as the result of his own investigations, deduced from 
 data previously matters of scientific record. This, in¬ 
 stead of exciting a feeling of antagonism, only served to 
 draw these savans in geographical science sympathetically 
 together, and paved the way to a friendship between 
 them which Livingstone fondly cherished to the close of 
 his life. 
 
 I approach the conclusion of what I have to submit on 
 this memorable occasion with a feeling somewhat akin 
 
 to regret. For it is inspiriting, Mr. President, to our 
 sentiment of manhood thus to contemplate the career of 
 one who gave his life to redeem a continent from barba¬ 
 rism, who has extended the area of Christian homes for 
 the world’s population, and who, augmenting the com¬ 
 merce and wealth of the race, and contributing to the 
 scientific knowledge of the structure and resources of the 
 orb we inhabit, at the same time helps to prepare the way 
 
 43 
 
for the world-wide establishment of revealed truth and 
 Christian civilization. 
 
 May I crave permission at this point to recall your 
 minds to a somewhat singular event in the annals of 
 exploration which has an incidental bearing upon the 
 general topic under remark ? Toward the close of the 
 fifteenth century,synchronizing strangely enough with the 
 date of the discovery of America, a fleet of Portuguese 
 explorers landed a numerous and well-armed body of 
 men on the east coast of Africa, near to Zanzibar and prob¬ 
 ably not far from the very point, Bagomoyo, where, 
 four hundred years after, the embassy of the New-York 
 Herald, under the leadership of Stanley, started for the 
 interior on the search for Livingstone. This Portuguese 
 expedition was in cpiest of that mythical Prince, Prester 
 John. For two centuries romantic rumors of this half-his¬ 
 toric, half-imaginary personage had floated through Chris¬ 
 tendom. The original idea of his Nestorian priesthood 
 and his Persian Principality having been proved to be 
 without warrant,—upon the foundation of a conjecture 
 started, no one knew where or by whom, and having no 
 authority or even recognized paternity at the moment, 
 an expeditionary force was sent out by the adventurous 
 King of Portugal, and the fleet finally came to anchor 
 off the Zanzibar coast. Disembarking here, the little 
 army, with the impedimenta necessary either for military 
 operations or for ingratiating negotiations witli a king 
 and court, reputed to be unparalleled in magnificence 
 and state, penetrated the interior for hundreds of miles. 
 It is held by many whose opinions are entitled to respect 
 that between the sixth and eighth parallels of latitude 
 
 44 
 
these strange adventurers pressed their way, enduring the 
 while with a glad enthusiasm and heroic fortitude the 
 terrific heats of a tropical sun, until, at last, when prob¬ 
 ably finding their further progress barred by the lake, 
 now named Tanganyika, they became disheartened or 
 dismayed, and so returned upon their course and once 
 more sought their ships. How remarkable the fact that 
 the line of the march of these pilgrim Portuguese was 
 so nearly identical with the path that Stanley trod 
 searching for Livingstone, and that the ultimate camp¬ 
 ing ground of the Portuguese was probably that over 
 which the exploring feet of Livingstone had wandered 
 during the very latest journeys of his life. The Portu¬ 
 guese had gone in martial array seeking one, who, they 
 imagined, gave lustre and renown by his princely state 
 to the religion of Christ. Stanley went bearing a flag 
 that symbolized the Christian civilization of a hemi¬ 
 sphere of which these Portuguese had never heard, 
 looking for a man who for some time past had been lost 
 to view, but who meantime was pioneering paths of dis¬ 
 covery to the heart of a continent, opening up highways 
 for the winged feet of science and multiplying facilities for 
 the propagation of that glorious religion which at once 
 dignifies the Creator and ennobles the creature. The 
 Portuguese went on an embassy from an earthly king, 
 that they might establish ecclesiastical commerce with 
 one who they supposed would aggrandize with pomp 
 and circumstance the temporal estate of the Church of 
 God. On the same strand of Tanganyika which they 
 stamped with their footprints, four centuries later strode 
 Livingstone, indenting the sands with knees as well as 
 
 45 
 
* 
 
 feet, holding before him the grander idea of emancipat¬ 
 ing a race from idolatry and redeeming a continent 
 from inutility, and so preparing new kingdoms and 
 founding new churches for God and His Christ. 
 
 As a matter of excusable national pride will you 
 pardon a word more, Mr. President, touching the expe¬ 
 dition which was projected and prosecuted by the New- 
 York Herald, or (as we may say, without trespassing 
 upon the impersonality of its proprietorship) by Mr. 
 Bennett, for the search and aid of Livingstone. The 
 unprecedented enterprise of this great agent of current 
 intelligence was -crowned with a success which may 
 properly be styled renown. I must believe that the 
 author and promoter, as well as his intrepid agent and 
 executor, projected and u builded better than they 
 knew.” What was designed for business resulted in 
 honor and fame for themselves and for their country. 
 The Herald enterprise accomplished for Livingstone, as it 
 eventuated, more than all that was attempted in this di¬ 
 rection by the British Government. It carried necessary 
 supplies to the Explorer in advance of the help ordered by 
 England, and so keeping him in the field which he other¬ 
 wise must needs have abandoned, secured to the interests 
 of science and religion many months more of active ser¬ 
 vice in exploration and missionary effort. It is not, there¬ 
 fore, saying too much to claim that the expedition of 
 the New-York Herald in the search and for the help of 
 Livingstone has connected his name inseparably with 
 America and given to our country a large share in the 
 glory of his splendid achievements in Africa. 
 
 46 
 
Mr. President, the greatness of the man whose name 
 and fame we celebrate and solemnize in the memorial 
 services of this occasion, are not to be segregated for 
 the embellishment of any one race or nation. Living¬ 
 stone belongs to the Christian world. Though born in 
 Scotland, Scotland does not own him. Though prose¬ 
 cuting his heroic labors under the a meteor flag 11 of 
 
 4 
 
 England, he belongs not to Britain alone. Though he 
 toiled beneath the torrid sun of Africa, Ethiopia cannot 
 claim him as peculiarly her son. Though his later sym¬ 
 pathies went heartily forth, gratefully recognizing this 
 western land as the home of those who practically vin¬ 
 dicated love and cordial fellowship in the hour of sorest 
 need, yet xVmerica has no peculiar interest in the glory 
 of Livingstone. Though he has been laid to rest in 
 England’s proudest minster, that minster does not hold 
 him. His character is too great to be the property of any 
 race, his work too vast for the ownership of any nation. 
 Llis glory is the possession of the Christian world. His 
 Evangely is the inheritance of the brotherhood of man. 
 He was too large in purpose, too grand in work for any¬ 
 thing less than Catholic human fraternity. Least of all 
 and last of all, may it be said of Livingstone, as was 
 charged upon Britain’s greatest statesman— 
 
 “ Who, born for the universe, narrowed his mind, 
 
 And to England gave up what was meant for mankind.” 
 
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