Difficulties and hardships of journey--His traveling kit--Four books--His Journal--Mode of traveling--Beauty of country--Repulsiveness of the people--Their religious belief--The negro--Preaching--The magic-lantern--Loneliness of feeling--Slave-trade--Management of the natives--Danger from Chiboque--from another chief--Livingstone ill of fever--At the Quango--Attachment of followers--"The good time coming"--Portuguese settlements--Great kindness of the Portuguese--Arrives at Loanda--Received by Mr. Gabriel--His great friendship--No letters--News through Mr. Gabriel--Livingstone becomes aquainted with naval officers--Resolves to go back to Linyanti and make for East Coast--Letter to his wife--Correspondence with Mr. Maclear--Accuracy of his observations--Sir John Herschel--Geographical Society award their gold metal--Remarks of Lord Ellesmere.
The journey from Linyanti to Loanda occupied from the 11th November, 1853, to 31st May, 1854. It was in many ways the most difficult and dangerous that Livingstone had yet performed, and it drew out in a very wonderful manner the rare combination of qualities that fitted him for his work. The route had never been traversed, so far as any trustworthy tradition went, by any European. With the exception of a few of Sekelétu's tusks, the oxen needed for carrying, and a trifling amount of coffee, cloth, beads, etc., Livingstone had neither stores of food for his party, nor presents with which to propitiate the countless tribes of rapacious and suspicious savages that lined his path. The Barotse men who accompanied him, usually called the "Makololo," though on the whole faithful and patient, "the best that ever accompanied me," were a burden in one sense, as much as a help in another; chicken-hearted, ready to succumb to every trouble, and to be cowed by any chief that wore a threatening face. Worse if possible, Livingstone himself was in wretched health. During this part of the journey he had constant attacks of intermittent fever [40], accompanied in the latter stages of the road with dysentery of the most distressing kind. In the intervals of fever he was often depressed alike in body and in mind. Often the party were destitute of food of any sort, and never had they food suitable for a fever-stricken invalid. The vexations he encountered were of no common kind: at starting, the greater part of his medicines was stolen, much though he needed them; in the course of the journey, his pontoon was left behind; at one time, while he was under the influence of fever, his riding-ox threw him, and he fell heavily on his head; at another, while crossing a river, the ox tossed him into the water; the heavy rains, and the necessity of wading through streams three or four times a day, kept him almost constantly wet; and occasionally, to vary the annoyance, mosquitos would assail him as fiercely as if they had been waging a war of extermination. The most critical moments of peril, demanding the utmost coolness and most dauntless courage, would sometimes occur during the stage of depression after fever; it was then he had to extricate himself from savage warriors, who vowed that he must go back, unless he gave them an ox, a gun, or a man. The ox he could ill spare, the gun not at all, and as for giving the last--a man--to make a slave of, he would sooner die. At the best, he was a poor ragged skeleton when he reached those who had hearts to feel for him and hands to help him. Had he not been a prodigy of patience, faith, and courage, had he not known where to find help in all time of his tribulation, he would never have reached the haunts of civilized men.
[40] The number of attacks was thirty-one.
His traveling-kit was reduced to the smallest possible ilk; that he minded little, but he was vexed to be able to take so few books. A few days after setting out, he writes in his private Journal;
"I feel the want of books in this journey more than anything else. A Sichuana Pentateuch, a lined journal, Thomson's Tables, a Nautical Almanac, and a Bible, constitute my stock. The last constitutes my chief resource; but the want of other mental pabulum is felt severely. There is little to interest in the conversation of the people. Loud disputes often about the women, and angry altercations in which the same string of abuse is used, are more frequent than anything else."
The "lined journal," of which mention is made here, was probably the most wonderful thing of the kind ever taken on such a journey. It is a strongly bound quarto volume of more then 800 pages, with a lock and key. The writing is so neat and clear that it might almost be taken for lithograph. Occasionally there is a page with letters beginning to sprawl, as if one of those times had come when he tells us that he-could neither think nor speak, nor tell any one's name--possibly not even his own, if he had been asked it. He used to jot his observations on little note-books, and extend them when detained by rain or other causes.
The journal differs in some material respects from the printed record of this journey. It is much more explicit in setting forth the bad treatment he often received. When he spoke of these things to the public, he made constant use of the mantle of charity, and the record of many a bad deed and many a bad character is toned down. Naturally, too, the journal is more explicit on the subject of his own troubles, and more free in recording the play of his feelings. It does not hide the communings of his heart with his heavenly Father. It is built up in a random-rubble style; here a solemn prayer, in the next line a note of lunar observations; then a dissertation on the habits of the hippopotamus. Notes bearing on the character, the superstitions, and the feelings of the natives are of frequent occurrence. The explanation is, that Livingstone put down everything as it came, reserving the arranging and digesting of the whole to a future time. The extremely hurried manner in which he was obliged to write his Missionary Travels prevented him from fulfilling all his plan, and compelled him to content himself with giving to the public then what could be put most readily together. There are indications that he contemplated in the end a much more thorough use of his materials. It is not to be supposed that his published volumes contained all that he deemed worthy of publication, or that a censure is due to those who reproduce some portions which he passed over. As to the neat and finished form in which the Journal exists, it was one of the many fruits of a strong habit of orderliness and self-respect which he had begun to learn at the hand of his mother, and which he practiced all his life. Even in the matter of personal cleanliness and dress he was uniformly most attentive in his wanderings among savages. "I feel certain," he said, "that the lessons of cleanliness rigidly instilled by my mother in childhood helped to maintain that respect which these people entertain for European ways."
The course of the journey was first along the river Zambesi, as he had gone before with Sekelétu, to its junction with the Leeba, then along the Leeba to the country of Lobale on the left and Londa on the right. Then, leaving the canoes, he traveled on oxback first N.N.W. and then W. till he reached St. Paul de Loanda on the coast. His Journal, like the published volume, is full of observations on the beauty and wonderful capacity and productiveness of the country through which he passed after leaving the river. Instinctively he would compare it with Scotland. A beautiful valley reminds him of his native vale of Clyde, seen from the spot where Mary Queen of Scots saw the battle of Langside; only the Scottish scene is but a miniature of the much greater and richer landscape before him. At the sight of the mountains he would feel his Highland blood rushing through him, banishing all thoughts of fever and fatigue. If only the blessings of the gospel could be spread among the people, what a glorious land it would become! But alas for the people! In most cases they were outwardly very repulsive. Never seen without a spear or a club in their hands, the men seemed only to delight in plunder and slaughter, and yet they were utter cowards. Their mouths were full of cursing and bitterness. The execrations they poured on each other were incredible. In very wantonness, when they met they would pelt each other with curses, and then perhaps burst into a fit of laughter. The women, like the men, went about in almost total nudity, and seemed to know no shame. So reckless were the chiefs of human life, that a man might be put to death for a single distasteful word; yet sometimes there were exhibitions of very tender feeling. The headman of a village once showed him, with much apparent feeling, the burnt house of a child of his, adding,--"She perished in it, and we have all removed from our own huts and built here round her, in order to weep over her grave." From some of the people he received great kindness; others were quite different. Their character, in short, was a riddle, and would need to be studied more. But the prevalent aspect of things was both distressing and depressing. If he had thought of it continually, he would have become the victim of melancholy. It was a characteristic of his large and buoyant nature, that, besides having the resource of spiritual thought, he was able to make use of another divine corrective to such a tendency, to find delightful recreation in science, and especially in natural history, and by this means turn the mind away for a time from the dark scenes of man's depravity.
The people all seemed to recognize a Supreme Being; but it was only occasionally, in times of distress, that they paid Him homage. They had no love for Him like that of Christians for Jesus--only terror. Some of them, who were true negroes, had images, simple but grotesque. Their strongest belief was in the power of medicines acting as charms. They fully recognized the existence of the soul after death. Some of them believed in the metamorphosis of certain persons into alligators or hippopotamuses, or into lions. This belief could not be shaken by any arguments--at least on the part of man. The negroes proper interested him greatly; they were numerous, prolific, and could not be extirpated. He almost regretted that Mr. Moffat had translated the Bible into Sichuana. That language might die out; but the negro might sing, "Men may come and men may go, but I go on for ever."
The incessant attacks of fever from which Livingstone suffered in this journey, the continual rain occurring at that season of the year, the return of the affection of the throat for which he had got his uvula excised, and the difficulty of speaking to tribes using different dialects, prevented him from, holding his Sunday services as regularly as before. Such entries in his Journal as the following are but too frequent: