David Livingstone

by C. Silvester Horne

The “Pearl” reached the mouth of the Zambesi on May 14th, 1858. She was anchored in the “mangrove swamps,” a deadly place for fever, and Livingstone insisted on the small launch, “Ma Robert,” being fitted together immediately, for he feared the consequences to the newcomers if they did not speedily get away to a healthier locality. This meant working on Sunday, for which if life can be saved there is sound Scripture warrant; but the order created no small criticism. “It is a pity,” writes Livingstone, “that some people cannot see that the true and honest discharge of every-day life is divine service.” The next trial was in the resignation of the naval officer, a matter in regard to which Livingstone was fully exonerated by the Foreign Office, but which none the less brought home to him the difficulties of his new position. Instead of waiting for a new officer, Livingstone proceeded to run the ship himself. “It was imagined we could not help ourselves,” he wrote later, “but I took the task of navigating on myself, and have conducted the steamer over 1,600 miles, though as far as my likings go I would as soon drive a cab in November fogs in London as be ‘skipper’ in this hot sun; but I shall go through with it as a duty.”

There was some genuine compensation when he reached Tette, and was hailed with delirious delight by his old Makololo friends, who had never ceased to believe that he would keep his word to them. “The Tette people often taunted us by saying, ‘Your Englishman will never return’; but we trusted you, and now we shall sleep.” Disease and fighting had thinned their ranks. Thirty had died of smallpox and six had been killed. Livingstone had some work to do before he was ready to march back with the survivors to Linyanti, but they knew he would not fail them. Already it was clear that the “Ma Robert” was almost useless. Livingstone had applied to the Government for a more suitable vessel; and had also ordered one on his own account. He had intended to spend £2,000, but eventually he devoted nearly the whole of the profits of his book, some £6,000, to the purchase of the little steamer “Lake Nyassa,” which he specially destined for the lake whose name she bore, but whose waters she never sailed. The Government acceded to the request, but the “Pioneer” did not arrive till early in 1861, and the “Lake Nyassa” a year later, the latter vessel having then to be put together, which occupied many months.

There were two years, therefore, to be devoted to what explorations were possible with the aid of the “Ma Robert”—now frivolously called the “Asthmatic”—and their own exertions. It was clear to Livingstone that the Shiré river, a tributary of the Zambesi out of the north country, was a very important feature, and ought to be thoroughly examined. It was quite possible that it might prove to be a highway to the inland lakes of which rumour reached him. So the first months of 1859 were devoted to this journey. The party made their way up till they were stopped by cataracts, which were named the Murchison Falls. Little could be done among the natives, who were very suspicious and armed with poisoned arrows. It was necessary constantly to assure them that the expedition was not Portuguese, but English, for the terror of slave-raids was like a perpetual nightmare over the people. A second attempt on the Shiré two months later had more notable results. They were inspired to strike away from the river to the east, and discovered Lake Shirwa. The lake lay 1,800 feet up, and was sixty miles long. It is remarkable that the Portuguese had no idea of its existence. Livingstone describes its remarkable beauty and the grandeur of its setting among the mountains, some of which rise to the height of 8,000 feet—“much higher than any you see in Scotland,” he writes to his little daughter Agnes. He is increasingly impressed that the whole region is suitable for cotton and sugar. The land is “so rich that the grass towers far over one’s head in walking.”

The party went back to the mouth of the Zambesi for stores, and then returned to make a determined effort to find Lake Nyassa.

Passing beyond the cataracts, they were assured by a chief that the river Shiré “stretched on for two months, and then came out between perpendicular rocks which could not be passed.” “Let us go back to the ship,” said the Makololo who were with them, “it is no use trying to find this lake.” “We shall see the wonderful rocks, at any rate,” said Livingstone. “Yes,” they grumbled, “and when you see them you will just want to see something else.” However, the curiosity of the Englishmen was by this time thoroughly aroused, and they pushed forward till, on the 16th of September, they discovered Lake Nyassa. They had not time to do much by way of exploration, and two years were to elapse before Livingstone returned and satisfied himself that the lake was at least two hundred miles long, and that it had endless possibilities in view of future colonisation. But even now the slavers were active; and gangs of unfortunate captives were being marched to the coast, greatly to the indignation of the Makololo, who wondered why Livingstone would not let them “choke” the marauders; but he was occupied with more heroic measures, that would lay an axe to the roots of the Upas-tree. The highlands of the Shiré, the fertility and healthiness of the country, and the proximity to the great waterway, together with the lake stretching two hundred miles to the north, filled his brain with schemes for colonising the district. It is the best white man’s country he has seen, and he bombards his English friends with letters on the subject. Why should honest poor folk at home make a miserable pittance by cultivating small crofts of land when here is a vast undeveloped country waiting for their occupation, with the well-being and safety of a large population to be secured by their presence? He is personally prepared to embark two or three thousand pounds in such an enterprise. “It ought not to be looked on as the last shift a family can come to, but the performance of an imperative duty to our blood, our country, our religion, and to human kind.”

While waiting the response of England to these appeals, he is off with his Makololo for six months, to see them back to their land and to their folks. Some have perished, as we have seen; some had no wish to return. About thirty of them deserted before they had gone far, leaving about sixty to go forward. Livingstone’s white companions were his brother and Dr. Kirk, afterwards Sir John Kirk, who had proved himself an invaluable friend and comrade.

As for the great traveller himself, it was with real joy that he found himself on the old trail, marching and camping in the fashion so reminiscent of earlier days. There are the same tasks and toils, the same fight with hunger and fatigue and fever; but it cheers his heart: “He rejoiceth as a strong man to run his course.” At times, however, he is compelled to realise how hard it is to do good and not do evil with it. He has opened up a path; and the first to follow him is the Portuguese or Arab slave-dealer. He feels that he has been made the instrument of the undoing of some innocent people, and his heart is heavy. Only Christian settlements can defeat these sinister enterprises. In August they were at the Victoria Falls, and most unexpectedly find a white man there, Mr. Baldwin by name, who has news of a great tragedy that fills Livingstone’s soul with sorrow. One of the results of his missionary appeals in England had been that the London Missionary Society had resolved on a mission at Linyanti. Nine Europeans set out for this spot, and Mr. Baldwin had helped them on the way. But the head of the mission, Mr. Helmore, and his wife had perished of fever, and three others succumbed later, so that the survivors gave up in alarm and retired. Livingstone was too late to be of service, though he was certain his remedies might have saved their lives. Even this is not all, for poor Sekeletu is stricken with leprosy, and is living away from his people, believing himself to be bewitched. His joy, however, at Livingstone’s return is unbounded, and the general happiness does something to make up for the sad news by which all have been depressed. He is cheered also to hear that his old friend Sechele was doing well, and happy in the possession of a Hanoverian missionary, and in the progress of Christian teaching. It was with evident satisfaction that Livingstone, British Consul, resumed his old labours of preaching and teaching. It could not be for long, for he had to be back on the Zambesi, but he could not neglect any opportunity of doing definitely spiritual work. They reached Tette once more on November 23rd, and travelled down the river in the “Ma Robert,” the last voyage of that ill-fated “bargain.” A month later she grounded on a sandbank and filled, and without remorse they left her at the bottom of the Zambesi.

To Livingstone it seemed that 1861 was to mark the opening of a new era, for the long-expected steamer “Pioneer” arrived at the end of January, and with it Bishop Mackenzie and his staff, whose object was to plant the “Universities’ Mission,” another fruit of Livingstone’s memorable home visit. Livingstone liked the Bishop from the first for his manly character, his devotion, and his common-sense. Differences of denomination affected him not at all. He “looks upon all godly men as good and true brethren.” He thought the Bishop like Dr. Moffat “in his readiness to put his hand to anything.” Some time was lost in exploration of the river Rovuma, which came to nothing. Then the navigation of the Shiré with the “Pioneer” proved very slow and laborious because of low water and sandbanks. Worse than all, the whole country seemed to have been ravaged by the slavers; and it was evident that the Portuguese Government officials were in active connivance. At the village of Mbame on the Shiré Livingstone and the Bishop liberated a gang of eighty-four men and women, and attached them to the Mission Settlement. A peculiarly murderous native chief, the head of a fierce tribe called the Ajawa, was doing the deadly work for the Portuguese, and when a visit was paid to him to persuade him to desist, he fired on the mission party, and the fire was returned. It was an ominous beginning of an enterprise that had tragical developments. It was difficult for the Bishop to remain a spectator of all these murderous onslaughts, but Livingstone strongly advised him not to interfere in tribal quarrels if he could avoid it. A little later the Bishop returned to the ship, and assured Livingstone that the Ajawa were more peaceably disposed. The latter heard the report with suspicions that proved well-founded. The Bishop went back to his station, and Livingstone’s thoughts were turned to the prospective arrival of the man-of-war that was to bring his own new vessel, the “Lake Nyassa,” as well as his wife, the Bishop’s sister, and some more members of the mission. The ship was spoken at the end of January, and among other passengers was the Rev. James Stewart, afterwards so well known as Dr. Stewart of Lovedale. He had come to represent the United Free Church of Scotland, and survey for a mission station. The Bishop had not appeared to meet his sister, and boats were despatched up river to find him. Miss Mackenzie and Mrs. Burrup, the wife of one of the Bishop’s colleagues, went with the boats. What they actually found was the well-authenticated story that the Bishop and Mr. Burrup were dead of fever, after an expedition to rescue the captive husbands of some Manganja women. The blow to Livingstone was a crushing one, for though he had never been able wholly to approve the policy of the mission, he was too chivalrous to criticise in such an hour, and declared that had he been with the Bishop he might have done the same. “This will hurt us all,” he said prophetically, as the two sorrow-stricken women came back to Shupanga with the terrible tidings. He knew well that the Portuguese would misrepresent the object of missionary settlements to be to interfere among the tribes, and even to make use of military force, so adding to the mischief instead of abating it. “We must bow to the will of Him who doeth all things well,” he writes; “but I cannot help feeling sadly disturbed in view of the effect the news may have at home. I shall not swerve a hair’s-breadth from my work while life is spared.”

Some weeks were spent in arranging for the return of the bereaved women, who did not sail for home till April 2nd. Meanwhile an even darker cloud of sorrow was preparing to break over Livingstone. His wife had only returned to him to die. She had been to Kuruman, where their youngest child was born. Then she had returned to Scotland to see the other children. But her longing to be at her husband’s side was intense, and at last she had come back to him. On April 21st she was taken ill with fever, and on the evening of Sunday, 27th, in the presence of Dr. Stewart and her husband she sank to rest. Dr. Stewart tells us how he found Livingstone “sitting by the side of a rude bed formed of boxes, but covered with a soft mattress, on which lay his dying wife.” For the first time in his life Livingstone says he would be content to die. He laid her to rest under a baobab tree on “Shupanga brae.” His diary reveals the agony of his heart. Henceforth “the red hills and white vales” of Shupanga are with him in all his wanderings. “In some other spot I may have looked at, my own resting-place may be allotted. I have often wished that it might be in some far-off still deep forest, where I may sleep sweetly till the resurrection morn.” “I loved her when I married her, and the longer I lived with her the more I loved her.... Oh! my Mary, my Mary, how often we have longed for a quiet home, since you and I were cast adrift at Kolobeng; surely the removal by a kind Father who knoweth our frame means that He rewarded you by taking you to the best home, the eternal one in the Heavens.”

For such comfort as could be obtained in such dark days he turned again to his work. The fight against slavery is becoming more and more desperate. Even the navigation of the river is now a horror. The waters are ghastly with corpses. “The paddles had to be cleared of bodies caught in the floats at night.” Human skeletons were found in all directions. “Many had ended their misery under shady trees, others under projecting crags in the hills, while others lay in their huts with closed doors which, when opened, disclosed the mouldering corpse with the poor cloth round the loins, the skull fallen off the pillow, the little skeleton of the child that had perished first rolled up in a mat between two large skeletons.” Eighteen months before, this was a well-peopled valley, now it is a desert “literally strewn with human bones.” To complete his despair the mission of Bishop Mackenzie is removed, by order, to Zanzibar, despite Livingstone’s urgent entreaty; and finally, in July, 1863, he himself received from Lord Russell the news that he was recalled. He does not blame the Government. He has expected this. But the bitterness is that “900 miles of coast are abandoned to those who were the first to begin the slave-trade, and seem determined to be the last to abandon it.”