The Personal Life of David Livingstone / Chiefly from his Unpublished Journals and Correspondence in the Possession of His Family

by William Garden Blaikie

In the beginning of April, the bleeding from the bowels, from which he had been suffering, became more copious, and his weakness was pitiful; still he longed for strength to finish his work. Even yet the old passion for natural history was strong; the aqueous plants that abounded everywhere, the caterpillars that after eating the plants ate one another, and were such clumsy swimmers; the fish with the hook-shaped lower jaw that enabled them to feed as they skimmed past the plants; the morning summons of the cocks and turtle-doves; the weird scream of the fish eagle--all engaged his interest. Observations continued to be taken, and the Sunday services were always held.

But on the 21st April a change occurred. In a shaky hand he wrote: "Tried to ride, but was forced to lie down, and they carried me back to vil. exhausted." A kitanda or palanquin had to be made for carrying him. It was sorry work, for his pains were excruciating and his weakness excessive. On the 27th April [77] he was apparently at the lowest ebb, and wrote in his Journal the last words he ever penned--"Knocked up quite, and remain == recover sent to buy milch goats. We are on the banks of R. Molilamo."

[77] This was the eleventh anniversary of his wife's death.

The word "recover" seems to show that he had no presentiment of death, but cherished the hope of recovery; and Mr. Waller has pointed out, from his own sad observation of numerous cases in connection with the Universities Mission, that malarial poisoning is usually unattended with the apprehension of death, and that in none of these instances, any more than in the case of Livingstone, were there any such messages, or instructions, or expressions of trust and hope as are usual on the part of Christian men when death is near.

The 29th of April was the last day of his travels. In the morning he directed Susi to take down the side of the hut that the kitanda might be brought along, as the door would not admit it, and he was quite unable to walk to it. Then came the crossing of a river; then progress through swamps and plashes; and when they got to anything like a dry plain, he would ever and anon beg of them to lay him down. At last they got him to Chitambo's village, in Ilala, where they had to put him under the eaves of a house during a drizzling rain, until the hut they were building should be got ready.

Then they laid him on a rough bed in the hut, where he spent the night. Next day he lay undisturbed. He asked a few wandering questions about the country--especially about the Luapula. His people knew that the end could not be far off. Nothing occurred to attract notice during the early part of the night, but at four in the morning, the boy who lay at his door called in alarm for Susi, fearing that their master was dead. By the candle still burning they saw him, not in bed, but kneeling at the bedside with his head buried in his hands upon the pillow. The sad yet not unexpected truth soon became evident: he had passed away on the furthest of all his journeys, and without a single attendant. But he had died in the act of prayer--prayer offered in that reverential attitude about which he was always so particular; commending his own spirit, with all his dear ones, as was his wont, into the hands of his Saviour; and commending AFRICA--his own dear Africa--with all her woes and sins and wrongs, to the Avenger of the oppressed and the Redeemer of the lost.

If anything were needed to commend the African race, and prove them possessed of qualities fitted to make a noble nation, the courage, affection, and persevering loyalty shown by his attendants after his death might well have this effect. When the sad event became known among the men, it was cordially resolved that every effort should be made to carry their master's remains to Zanzibar. Such an undertaking was extremely perilous, for there were not merely the ordinary risks of travel to a small body of natives, but there was also the superstitious horror everywhere prevalent connected with the dead. Chitambo must be kept in ignorance of what had happened, otherwise a ruinous fine would be sure to be inflicted on them. The secret, however, oozed out, but happily the chief was reasonable. Susi and Chuma, the old attendants of Livingstone, became now the leaders of the company, and they fulfilled their task right nobly. The interesting narrative of Mr. Waller at the end of the Last Journals tells us how calmly yet efficiently they set to work. Arrangements were made for drying and embalming the body, after removing and burying the heart and other viscera. For fourteen days the body was dried in the sun. After being wrapped in calico, and the legs bent inward at the knees, it was enclosed in a large piece of bark from a Myonga-tree in the form of a cylinder; over this a piece of sail-cloth was sewed; and the package was lashed to a pole, so as to be carried by two men. Jacob Wainwright carved an inscription on the Mvula tree under which the body had rested, and where the heart was buried, and Chitambo was charged to keep the grass cleared away, and to protect two posts and a cross-piece which they erected to mark the spot.

They then set out on their homeward march. It was a serious journey, for the terrible exposure had affected the health of most of them, and many had to lie down through sickness. The tribes through which they passed were generally friendly, but not always. At one place they had a regular fight. On the whole, their progress was wonderfully quiet and regular. Everywhere they found that the news of the Doctor's death had got before them. At one place they heard that a party of Englishmen, headed by Dr. Livingstone's son, on their way to relieve his father, had been seen at Bagamoio some months previously. As they approached Unyanyembe, they learned that the party was there, but when Chuma ran on before, he was disappointed to find that Oswell Livingstone was not among them. Lieutenant Cameron, Dr. Dillon, and Lieutenant Murphy were there, and heard the tidings of the men with deep emotion. Cameron wished them to bury the remains where they were, and not run the risk of conveying them through the Ugogo country; but the men were inflexible, determined to carry out their first intention. This was not the only interference with these devoted and faithful men. Considering how carefully they had gathered all Livingstone's property, and how conscientiously, at the risk of their lives, they were carrying it to the coast, to transfer it to the British Consul there, it was not warrantable in the new-comers to take the boxes from them, examine their contents, and carry off a part of them. Nor do we think Lieutenant Cameron was entitled to take away the instruments with which all Livingstone's observations had been made for a series of seven years, and use them, though only temporarily, for the purpose of his Expedition, inasmuch as he thereby made it impossible so to reduce Livingstone's observations as that correct results should be obtained from them. Sir Henry Rawlinson seems not to have adverted to this result of Mr. Cameron's act, in his reference to the matter from the chair of the Geographical Society.

On leaving Unyanyembe the party were joined by Lieutenant Murphy, not much to the promotion of unity of action or harmonious feeling. At Kasekéra a spirit of opposition was shown by the inhabitants, and a ruse was resorted to so as to throw them off their guard. It was resolved to pack the remains in such form that when wrapped in calico they should appear like an ordinary bale of merchandise. A fagot of mapira stalks, cut into lengths of about six feet, was then swathed in cloth, to imitate a dead body about to be buried. This was sent back along the way to Unyanyembe, as if the party had changed their minds and resolved to bury the remains there. The bearers, at nightfall, began to throw away the mapira rods, and then the wrappings, and when they had thus disposed of them they returned to their companions. The villagers of Kasekéra had now no suspicion, and allowed the party to pass unmolested. But though one tragedy was averted, another was enacted at Kasekéra--the dreadful suicide of Dr. Dillon while suffering from dysentery and fever.

The cortége now passed on without further incident, and arrived at Bagamoio in February, 1874. Soon after they reached Bagamoio a cruiser arrived from Zanzibar, with the acting Consul, Captain Prideaux, on board, and the remains were conveyed to that island previous to their being sent to England.