The Body of Dr. Livingstone Borne to Unyanyembe by his Attendants, and thence to Zanzibar — The British Consul-General sends it, with the Doctor’s Papers, Books, etc., to England — Arrival at Southampton, and at London — The People Vie in Tributes of Respect — The Funeral — The Grave in Westminster Abbey.
LIVINGSTONE ENDING HIS LAST MARCH AT ILALA.
From the point where Dr. Livingstone died to Unyanyembe was a distance of upward of one thousand miles; this the Doctor’s faithful attendants traversed with his remains, frequently having to diverge materially from the road to circumvent hostile demonstrations of parties of natives. Six toilsome months were consumed in the journey, and the month of November had opened ere they reached Unyanyembe. Thence, after a pause, they bore their precious burden to Zanzibar, where they arrived in February, 1874, and delivered the corpse and the Doctor’s personal effects (including his Diary, papers, etc.) into the custody of the British Consul-General, who immediately shipped them, in care of Mr. Arthur Laing, for England. Among those who accompanied the body was Jacob Wainwright, Dr. Livingstone’s body-servant. At Aden, the steamer Malwa, which had been sent out by the British Government, met them, and the party were transferred to her.
On the 15th of April, the Malwa arrived at Southampton, and at eleven o’clock landed the party, with the corpse, at the Royal Pier, in the presence of a vast concourse of people, estimated at upward of fifty thousand, business having been suspended, and all classes of the people having come to testify their respect for the illustrious dead. The Mayor formally received the remains, and they were borne to the railway station, accompanied by the assembled thousands, while minute guns were fired and the bells tolled. The scene was very impressive. The remains were thence carried to London by rail, and, arriving there at three o’clock, P. M., were taken in charge by the Royal Geographical Society, who had the coffin transferred to a hearse, and taken to their rooms, followed by a numerous line of carriages and a large number of persons afoot. Here the corpse was viewed by Sir William Ferguson in the presence of Drs. Kirk and Loudon, Rev. Dr. Moffat and others, the object being to identify the remains and to remove all possibility of cavil as to their being those of Dr. Livingstone. The result can best be told in Sir William Ferguson’s own words, and hence we insert his letter to The London Lancet:
JACOB WAINWRIGHT WITH DR. LIVINGSTONE’S REMAINS AT ADEN.
“Within the last few months, many have hesitated to believe that Livingstone was dead. Above all, it seemed beyond ordinary probability that his remains would have been brought from Central Africa to the heart of London. That a body was on its way from this all but mythical region could hardly be doubted after the examination at Zanzibar of the remains, but many were skeptical as to this dead frame being that of Livingstone. Happily it was borne in mind by many old friends that he had one condition of body which would mark the identification of his remains, even if years and years had elapsed. If it should be proved on anatomical examination that the remains of an old ununited fracture in his left humerus (arm bone) could be recognized, all doubt on the subject would be settled at once and for ever. It has fallen to my lot to have the honor of being selected to make the crucial examination to this end, and I have accordingly performed that duty. From what I have seen I am much impressed with the ingenious manner in which those who have contrived to secure that the body should be carried through the long distance from where Livingstone died, until it could reach a place where transit was comparatively easy, accomplished their task. The lower limbs were so severed from the trunk that the length of the bulk of package was reduced to a little over four feet. The soft tissues seem to have been removed to a great extent from the bones, and these latter were so disposed that, by doubling and otherwise, the shortening was accomplished. The abdominal viscera were absent, and so were those of the chest, including, of course, heart and lungs. There had been made a large opening in front of the abdomen, and through that the native operators had ingeniously contrived to remove the contents of the chest as well as of the abdomen. The skin over the chest, sternum and ribs had been untouched. Before these points were clearly ascertained some coarse tapes had to be loosened, which set free some rough linen material—a striped colored bit of cotton cloth, such as might have been an attractive material for the natives among whom Livingstone traveled—a coarse cotton shirt which doubtless belonged to the traveler’s scanty wardrobe, and in particular a large portion of the bark of a tree, which had formed the principal part of the package—the case thereof no doubt. The skin of the trunk, from the pelvis to the crown of the head, had been untouched. Everywhere was that shriveling which might have been expected after salting, baking in the sun, and eleven months of time. The features of the face could not be recognized. The hair on the scalp was plentiful, and much longer than he wore it when last in England. A moustache could not be recognized, but whiskers were in abundance. The forehead was in shape such as we are familiar with from memory, and from the pictures and busts now extant. The circumference of the cranium, from the occiput to the brow, was 237⁄8 inches, which was recognized by some present to be in accordance with the measurement when alive. In particular, the arms attracted attention. They lay as if placed in ordinary fashion, each down by the side. The skin and tissues under were on each side shrunk almost to skeleton bulk, and at a glance to practiced eyes—there were five, I may say six, professional men present—the state of the left arm was such as to convince every one present who had examined it during life, that the limb was Livingstone’s. Exactly in the region of the attachment of the deltoid to the humerus, there were the indications of an oblique fracture. On moving the arm, there were the indications of the ununited fracture. A closer investigation and dissection displayed the false joint which had long ago been so well recognized by those who had examined the arm in former days. The Rev. Dr. Moffat, and in particular Dr. Kirk, late of Zanzibar, and Dr. Loudon, of Hamilton, in Scotland, at once recognized the condition. Having myself been consulted regarding the state of the limb when Livingstone was last in London, I was convinced that the remains of the great traveler lay before us. Thousands of heads with a like large circumference might have been under similar scrutiny; the skeletons of hundreds of thousands might have been so; the humerus in each might have been perfect; if one or both had been broken during life it would have united again in such a manner that a tyro could easily have detected the peculiarity. The condition of ununited fracture in this locality is exceedingly rare. I say this from my personal professional experience, and that such a specimen should have turned up in London from the centre of Africa, excepting in the body of Dr. Livingstone, where it was known by competent authorities to have existed, is beyond human credibility. It must not be supposed by those who are not professionally acquainted with this kind of lesion—which often causes so much interest to the practical surgeon—that a fracture and new joint of the kind now referred to could have been of recent date or made for a purpose. There were in reality all the indications which the experienced pathologist recognizes as infallible, such as the attenuated condition of the two great fragments (common under such circumstances), and the semblance of a new joint, but actually there was a small fragment detached from the others which bore out Livingstone’s own view that the bones had been ‘crushed into splinters.’ Having had ample opportunity of examining the arm during life, and conversing with Livingstone on the subject, and being one of those who entertained hopes that the last reports of Livingstone’s death might, like others, prove false, I approached the examination with an anxious feeling regarding this great and most peculiar crucial test. The first glance at the left arm set my mind at rest, and that, with the further examination, made me as positive as to the identity of these remains as that there has been among us in modern times one of the greatest men of the human race—David Livingstone.”
On Saturday, the 18th of April, all that was mortal of the great missionary-explorer was consigned to its last resting-place in Westminster Abbey. The funeral procession started at about ten o’clock from the Rooms of the Royal Geographical Society, and was participated in by an immense number of people of all ranks in life. The cortege included the hearse and twelve mourning coaches, and the private carriages of the Queen, the Prince of Wales, the German Ambassador, Baroness Burdett-Coutts, Lady Franklin and many others. The pall-bearers were Mr. Stanley, Jacob Wainwright, Sir Thomas Steele, W. C. Oswell, W. F. Webb, Dr. Kirk, Rev. H. Waller, Mr. Young, Rev. F. Steele and Kalulu (the African boy brought home by Stanley). Among the mourners, we may note the Duke of Sutherland, Lord Houghton (the poet), the Duke of Manchester, the Bishops of Lincoln and Sierra Leone, the Lord Mayor and Corporation of London, Lord Shaftesbury (the philanthropist), Colonel Grant (the explorer), Mr. Moran (the American Secretary of Legation), Sir Bartle Frere, Sir H. Rawlinson, Sir Rutherford Alcock, Rev. Dr. Moffat, Dr. Lyon Playfair, Lord Lawrence, Sir F. Buxton, Hon. Arthur Kinnaird, Admiral Sir William Hall, Sherard Osborn, Codrington and Ommaney, of the British Navy, besides deputations from the various learned societies, and from Glasgow, Edinburgh and Hamilton, together with other men of eminence too numerous to recapitulate. The procession did not enter the Abbey till past one o’clock, and long before that hour every available space in the vicinity of the grave was occupied, and there were persons even in the clerestory.
“Five minutes past one, Dean Stanley, in his full robes, with a purple cap on his head, and the red ribbon of the Order of the Bath, of which he is chaplain, round his neck, is standing at the door of the west nave, attended by the Sub-Dean and Canons, waiting for the body. Now we see the procession slowly filing through the cloisters.