CHAPTER X.
FIRST VISIT HOME.
A.D. 1856-1857.
Mrs. Livingstone--Her intense anxieties--Her poetical welcome--Congratulatory letters from Mrs. and Dr, Moffat--Meeting of welcome of Royal Geographical Society--of London Missionary Society--Meeting in Mansion House--Enthusiastic public meeting at Cape Town--Livingstone visits Hamilton--Returns to London to write his book--Letter to Mr. Maclear--Dr. Risdon Bennett's reminiscences of this period--Mr. Frederick Fitch's--Interview with Prince Consort--Honors--Publication and great success of Missionary Travels--Character and design of the book--Why it was not more of a missionary record--Handsome conduct of publisher--Generous use of the profits--Letter to a lady in Carlisle vindicating the character of his speeches.
The years that had elapsed since Dr. Livingstone bade his wife farewell at Cape Town had been to her years of deep and often terrible anxiety. Letters, as we have seen, were often lost, and none seem more frequently to have gone missing than those between him and her. A stranger in England, without a home, broken in health, with a family of four to care for, often without tidings of her husband for great stretches of time, and harassed with anxieties and apprehensions that sometimes proved too much for her faith, the strain on her was very great. Those who knew her in Africa, when, "queen of the wagon," and full of life, she directed the arrangements and sustained the spirits of a whole party, would hardly have thought her the same person in England. When Livingstone had been longest unheard of, her heart sank altogether; but through prayer, tranquillity of mind returned, even before the arrival of any letter announcing his safety. She had been waiting for him at Southampton, and, owing to the casualty in the Bay of Tunis, he arrived at Dover, but as soon as possible he was with her, reading the poetical welcome which she had prepared in the hope that they would never part again:
"A hundred thousand welcomes, and it's time for you to come
From the far land of the foreigner, to your country and your home.
O long as we were parted, ever since you went away,
I never passed a dreamless night, or knew an easy day.
So you think I would reproach you with the sorrows that I bore?
Since the sorrow is all over, now I have you here once more,
And there's nothing but the gladness, and the love within my heart,
And the hope so sweet and certain that again we'll never part.
A hundred thousand welcomes! how my heart is gushing o'er
With the love and joy and wonder thus to see your face once more.
How did I live without you these long long years of woe?
It seems as if 'twould kill me to be parted from you now.
You'll never part me, darling, there's a promise in your eye;
I may tend you while I'm living, you may watch me when I die;
And if death but kindly lead me to the blessed home on high,
What a hundred thousand welcomes will await you in the sky!"MARY."
"MARY."
Having for once lifted the domestic veil, we cannot resist the temptation to look into another corner of the home circle. Among the letters of congratulation that poured in at this time, none was more sincere or touching than that which Mrs. Livingstone received from her mother, Mrs. Moffat [48]. In the fullnes of her congratulations she does not forget the dark shadow that falls on the missionary's wife when the time comes for her to go back with her husband to their foreign home, and requires her to part with her children; tears and smiles mingle in Mrs. Moffat's letter as she reminds her daughter that they that rejoice need to be as though they rejoiced not:
[48] We have been greatly impressed by Mrs. Moffat's letters. She was evidently a woman of remarkable power. If her life had been published, we are convinced that it would have been a notable one in missionary biography. Heart and head were evidently of no common calibre. Perhaps it is not yet too late for some friend to think of this.
"Kuruman, December 4, 1856.--MY DEAREST MARY,--In proportion to the anxiety I have experienced about you and your dear husband for some years past, so now is my joy and satisfaction; even though we have not yet heard the glad tidings of your having really met, but this for the present we take for granted. Having from the first been in a subdued and chastened state of mind on the subject, I endeavor still to be moderate in my joy. With regard to you both ofttimes has the sentence of death been passed in my mind, and at such seasons I dared not, desired not, to rebel, submissively leaving all to the Divine disposal; but I now feel that this has been a suitable preparation for what is before me, having to contemplate a complete separation from you till that day when we meet with the spirits of just men made perfect in the kingdom of our Father. Yes, I do feel solemn at death, but there is no melancholy about it, for what is our life, so short and so transient? And seeing it is so, we should be happy to do or to suffer as much as we can for him who bought us with his blood. Should you go to those wilds which God has enabled your husband, through numerous dangers and deaths, to penetrate, there to spend the remainder of your life, and as a consequence there to suffer manifold privations, in addition to those trials through which you have already passed--and they have not been few (for you had a hard life in this interior)--you will not think all too much, when you stand with that multitude who have washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb!
"Yet, my dear Mary, while we are yet in the flesh my heart will yearn over you. You are my own dear child, my first-born, and recent circumstances have had a tendency to make me feel still more tenderly toward you, and deeply as I have sympathized with you for the last few years, I shall not cease to do so for the future. Already is my imagination busy picturing the various scenes through which you must pass, from the first transport of joy on meeting till that painful anxious hour when you must bid adieu to your darlings, with faint hopes of ever seeing them again in this life; and then, what you may both have to pass through in those inhospitable regions....
"From what I saw in Mr. Livingston's letter to Robert, I was shocked to think that that poor head, in the prime of manhood, was so like my own, who am literally worn out. The symptoms he describes are so like my own. Now, with a little rest and relaxation, having youth on his side, he might regain all, but I cannot help fearing for him if he dashes at once into hardships again. He is certainly the wonder of his age, and with a little prudence as regards his health, the stores of information he now possesses might be turned to a mighty account for poor wretched Africa.... We do not yet see how Mr. L. will get on--the case seems so complex. I feel, as I have often done, that as regards ourselves it is a subject more for prayer than for deliberation, separated as we are by such distances, and such a tardy and eccentric post. I used to imagine that when he was once got out safely from this dark continent we should only have to praise God for all his mercies to him and to us all, and for what He had effected by him; but now I see we must go on seeking the guidance and direction of his providential hand, and sustaining and preventing mercy. We cannot cease to remember you daily, and thus our sympathy will be kept alive with you...."