STANLEY MEETS LIVINGSTONE.
Stanley's excitement at this supreme moment of his life can never be
described or even imagined. When he started from Zanzibar, he knew he
had thrown the dice which were to fix his fate. Successful, and his fame
was secure, while failure meant death; and all the chances were against
him. How much he had taken upon himself no one but he knew; into what
gloomy gulfs he had looked before he started, he alone was conscious. Of
the risks he ran, of the narrow escapes he had made, of the toils and
sufferings he had endured, he alone could form an estimate. With the
accumulation of difficulties and the increasing darkness of his
prospects, the one great object of his mission had increased in
importance, till great though it was, it became unnaturally magnified so
that, at last, it filled all his vision, and became the one, the great,
the only object in life worth pursuing. For it he had risked so much,
toiled so long and suffered so terribly, that the whole world, with all
its interests, was secondary to it. Hope had given way to disappointment
and disappointment yielded to despair so often, that his strong nature
had got keyed up to a dangerous pitch. But now the reward was near.
Balboa, when alone he ascended the summit that was to give him a sight
of the great Pacific Ocean, was not more intensely excited than was
Stanley when he labored up the steep mountain that should give him a
view of the Tanganika.
The joy, the exultation of that moment, outbalanced a life of common
happiness. It was a feeling that lifts the soul into a region where our
common human nature never goes, and it becomes a memory that influences
and shapes the character forever. Such a moment of ecstasy--of perfect
satisfaction--of exultant, triumphant feeling that asks nothing
better--that brings perfect rest with the highest exaltation, can happen
to any man but once in a life-time. To attempt to give any description
of this culmination of all his effort, and longing, and ambition, except
in his own words, would be not only an act of injustice to him, but to
the reader.
The descent to Ujiji and the interview with Livingstone is full of
dramatic interest and the description of it should not be made by a
third party, for to attempt to improve on it would be presumption and
would end only in failure. We, therefore, give it in Mr. Stanley's own
words, that glow with vivid life from beginning to end, and this shall
be his chapter:
"We are descending the western slope of the mountain, with the valley of
the Linche before us. Something like an hour before noon we have gained
the thick matite brake, which grows on both banks of the river; we wade
through the clear stream, arrive on the other side, emerge out of the
brake, and the gardens of the Wajiji are around us--a perfect marvel of
vegetable wealth. Details escape my hasty and partial observation. I am
almost overpowered with my own emotion. I notice the graceful palms,
neat plats, green with vegetable plants, and small villages, surrounded
with frail fences of the matite cane.
"We push on rapidly, lest the news of our coming might reach the people
of Bunder Ujiji before we come in sight and are ready for them. We halt
at a little brook, then ascend the long slope of a naked ridge, the very
last of the myriads we have crossed. This alone prevents us from seeing
the lake in all its vastness. We arrive at the summit, travel across and
arrive at its western rim, and--pause, reader--the port of Ujiji is
below us, embowered in the palms, only five hundred yards from us. At
this grand moment we do not think of the hundreds of miles we have
marched, of the hundreds of hills we have ascended and descended, of the
many forests we have traversed, of the jungles and thickets that annoyed
us, of the fervid salt plains that blistered our feet, of the hot suns
that scorched us, nor the dangers and difficulties now happily
surmounted. At last the sublime hour has arrived! our dreams, our
hopes, our anticipations are about to be realized. Our hearts and our
feelings are with our eyes, as we peer into the palms and try to make
out in which hut or house lives the white man, with the gray beard, we
heard about on the Malagarazi.
"'Unfurl the flags and load the guns.'
"'Ay, Wallah, ay, Wallah, bana!' responded the men, eagerly.
"'One--two--three--fire.'
"A volley from nearly fifty guns roars like a salute from a battery of
artillery; we shall note its effect, presently, on the peaceful-looking
village below.
"'Now, Kirangozi, hold the white man's flag up high, and let the
Zanzibar flag bring up the rear. And you men keep close together, and
keep firing until we halt in the market-place, or before the white man's
house. You have said to me often that you could smell the fish of the
Tanganika. I can smell the fish of the Tanganika now. There are fish,
and beer, and a long rest awaiting for you. MARCH!'
"Before we had gone one hundred yards our repeated volleys had the
desired effect. We had awakened Ujiji to the fact that a caravan was
coming, and the people were witnessed running up in hundreds to meet us.
The mere sight of the flags informed every one immediately that we were
a caravan, but the American flag, borne aloft by the gigantic Asmani,
whose face was one broad smile on this day, rather staggered them at
first. However, many of the people who now approached us remembered the
flag. They had seen it float above the American consulate, and from the
mast-heads of many a ship in the harbor of Zanzibar, and they were soon
heard welcoming the beautiful flag with cries of 'Bindera Kisungu!'--a
white man's flag! 'Bindera Mericani!'--the American flag! These cries
resounded on all sides.
"Then we were surrounded by them--by Wajiji, Wanyamzi, Wangwana,
Warundi, Waguhha, Wamanyuema and Arabs, and were almost deafened with
the shout of 'Yambo, yambo, bona! Yambo bona, Yambo bona, Yambo bona!'
To all and each of my men the welcome was given.
"We were now about three hundred yards from the village of Ujiji, and
the crowds are dense about me. Suddenly I hear a voice on my right say:
'Good morning, sir!'
"Startled at hearing this greeting in the midst of such a crowd of black
people, I turn sharply around in search of the man, and see him at my
side with the blackest of faces, but animated and joyous--a man dressed
in a long white shirt, with a turban of American sheeting around his
woolly head, and I ask: 'Who the mischief are you?'
"'I am Susi, the servant of Dr. Livingstone,' said he, smiling and
showing a gleaming row of teeth.
"'What! is Dr. Livingstone here?'
"'Yes, sir.'
"'In this village?'
"'Yes, sir.'
"'Are you sure?'
"'Sure, sure, sir. Why I just left him.'
"'Good-morning, sir,' said another voice.
"'Hallo,' said I, 'is this another one?'
"'Yes, sir.'
"'Well, what is your name?'
"'My name is Chumah, sir.'
"'What are you, Chumah, the friend of Weko-tani?'
"'Yes, sir.'
"'And is the doctor well?'
"'Not very well, sir.'
"'Where has he been so long?
"'In Manyuema.'
"'Now you, Susi, run and tell the doctor I am coming.'
"'Yes, sir,' and off he darted like a madman.
"By this time we were within two hundred yards of the village, and the
multitude was getting denser, and almost preventing our march. Flags and
streamers were out; Arabs and Wangwana were pushing their way through
the natives in order to greet us, for according to their account we
belonged to them. But the great wonder of all was, 'How did you come
from Unyanyembe?'
"Soon Susi came running back and asked me my name; he had told the
doctor that I was coming, but the doctor was too surprised to believe
him, and when the doctor asked him my name Susi was rather staggered.
"But during Susi's absence the news had been conveyed to the doctor that
it was surely a white man that was coming, whose guns were firing and
whose flag could be seen; and the great Arab magnates of Ujiji--Mohammed
bin Sali, Sayd bin Majid, Abid bin Suliman, Mohammed bin Gharib and
others--had gathered together before the doctor's house, and the doctor
had come out on his veranda to discuss the matter and await my arrival.
"In the meantime, the head of the expedition had halted and the
Kirangozi were out of the ranks, holding the flag aloft, and Selim said
to me, 'I see the doctor, sir. Oh, what an old man! He has got a white
beard.' And I--what would I not have given for a bit of friendly
wilderness where, unseen, I might vent my joy in some mad freak, such as
idiotically biting my hand, turning a somersault, or slashing some
trees, in order to allay those exciting feelings that were well-nigh
uncontrollable. My heart beats fast, but I must not let my face betray
my emotions, lest it shall detract from the dignity of a white man
appearing under such extraordinary circumstances.
"So I did that which I thought was most dignified, I pushed back the
crowds, and, passing from the rear, walked down a living avenue of
people until I came in front of the semi-circle of Arabs, in front of
which stood the white man with the gray beard. As I advanced slowly
toward him I noticed he was pale, looked wearied, had a gray beard, wore
a bluish cap with a faded gold band around it, had on a red-sleeved
waistcoat and a pair of gray tweed trousers. I would have run to him,
only I was a coward in such a mob--would have embraced him, only, he
being an Englishman, I did not know how he would receive me; so I did
what cowardice and false pride suggested was the best thing--walked
deliberately to him, took off my hat and said, 'Dr. Livingstone, I
presume?'
"'Yes,' said he, with a kind smile, lifting his hat slightly.
"I replace my cap on my head, and he puts on his cap, and we both grasp
hands, and then I say aloud: 'I thank God, doctor, I have been permitted
to see you.'
"He answered: 'I feel thankful I am here to welcome you.'
[Illustration: STANLEY MEETING LIVINGSTONE AT UJIJI.]
"I turned to the Arabs, took off my hat to them in response to the
saluting chorus of 'Yambos,' I receive, and the doctor introduces them
to me by name. Then oblivious of the crowds, oblivious of the men who
shared with me my dangers, we--Livingstone and I--turn our faces toward
his tembe. He points to the veranda, or rather mud platform, under the
broad over-hanging eaves; he points to his own particular seat, which I
see his age and experience in Africa have suggested, namely, a straw mat
with a goat-skin over it, and another skin nailed against the wall to
protect his back from contact with the cold mud. I protest against
taking this seat, which so much more befits him than me, but the doctor
will not yield: I must take it.
"We are seated--the doctor and I--with our backs to the wall. The Arabs
take seats on our left. More than a thousand natives are in our front,
filling the whole square densely, indulging their curiosity and
discussing the fact of two white men meeting at Ujiji--one just come
from Manyuema, in the west, the other from Unyanyembe, in the east.
"Conversation began. What about? I declare I have forgotten. Oh! we
mutually asked questions of one another, such as: 'How did you come
here?' and 'Where have you been all this long time? the world has
believed you to be dead.' Yes, that was the way it began; but whatever
the doctor informed me, and that which I communicated to him, I cannot
exactly report, for I found myself gazing at him, conning the wonderful
man, at whose side I now sat in Central Africa. Every hair of his head
and beard, every wrinkle of his face, the wanness of his features, and
the slightly wearied look he wore, were all imparting intelligence to
me--the knowledge I craved for so much ever since I heard the words,
'Take what you want, but find Livingstone.' What I saw was deeply
interesting intelligence to me, and unvarnished truths I was listening
and reading at the same time. What did these dumb witnesses relate to
me?
"Oh, reader, had you been at my side that day at Ujiji, how eloquently
could be told the nature of this man's work! Had you been there but to
see and hear! His lips gave me the details; lips that never lie. I
cannot repeat what he said; I was too much engrossed to take my
note-book out and begin to stenograph his story. He had so much to say
that he began at the end, seemingly oblivious of the fact that five or
six years had to be accounted for. But his account was oozing out; it
was growing fast into grand proportions--into a most marvelous history
of deeds.
"The Arabs rose up with a delicacy I approved, as if they intuitively
knew that we ought to be left to ourselves. I sent Bombay with them to
give them the news they also wanted so much to know about the affairs at
Unyanyembe. Sayd bin Majid was the father of the gallant young man whom
I saw at Masange, and who fought with me at Zimbizo, and who soon
afterwards was killed by Mirambo's Ruga--Ruga in the forest of
Wilyankuru; and knowing I had been there, he earnestly desired to hear
the tale of the fight; but they all had friends at Unyanyembe, and it
was but natural that they should be anxious to hear of what concerned
them.
"After giving orders to Bombay and Asmani for the provisioning of the
men of the expedition, I called 'Kaif-Halek,' or 'how do ye do,' and
introduced him to Dr. Livingstone as one of the soldiers in charge of
certain goods left at Unyanyembe, whom I had compelled to accompany me
to Ujiji that he might deliver in person to his master, the letter-bag
he had been intrusted with by Dr. Kirk.
"This was the famous letter-bag marked 'Nov. 1st, 1870,' which was now
delivered into the doctor's hands, three hundred and sixty-five days
after it left Zanzibar! How long, I wonder, had it remained at
Unyanyembe, had I not been dispatched into Central Africa in search of
the great traveler?
"The doctor kept the letter-bag on his knee, then, presently, opened it,
looked at the letters contained there and read one or two of his
children's letters, his face, in the meanwhile, lighting up.
"He asked me to tell him the news. 'No, doctor,' said I, 'read your
letters first, which, I am sure, you must be impatient to read.'
"'Ah,' said he, 'I have waited years for letters, and I have been taught
patience. I can surely afford to wait a few hours longer. No; tell me
the general news; how is the world getting along?'
"'You probably know much already. Do you know that the Suez Canal is a
fact--is opened and a regular trade carried on between Europe and India
through it?'
"'I did not hear about the opening of it. Well, that is grand news! What
else?'
"Shortly I found myself enacting the part of an annual periodical to
him. There was no need of exaggeration--of any penny-a-line news, or of
any sensationalism. The world had witnessed and experienced much the
last few years. The Pacific Railroad had been completed; Grant had been
elected President of the United States; Egypt had been flooded with
savans; the Cretan rebellion had terminated; a Spanish revolution had
driven Isabella from the throne of Spain, and a regent had been
appointed; General Prim was assassinated; a Castelar had electrified
Europe with his advanced ideas upon the liberty of worship; Prussia had
humbled Denmark and annexed Schleswig-Holstein, and her armies were now
around Paris; the 'Man of Destiny' was a prisoner at Wilhelmshoehe; the
queen of fashion and the empress of the French was a fugitive; and the
child born in the purple had lost forever the imperial crown intended
for its head; the Napoleon dynasty was extinguished by the Prussians,
Bismarck and Von Moltke, and France, the proud empire, was humbled to
the dust.
"What could a man have exaggerated of these facts? What a budget of news
it was to one who had emerged from the depths of the primeval forests of
Manyuema! The reflection of the dazzling light of civilization was cast
on him while Livingstone was thus listening in wonder to one of the most
exciting passages of history ever repeated. How the puny deeds of
barbarism paled before these! Who could tell under what new phases of
uneasy life Europe was laboring even then, while we two of her lonely
children rehearsed the tale of her late woes and glories? More worthily,
perhaps, had the tongue of a lyric Demodocus recounted them; but in the
absence of the poet, the newspaper correspondent performed his part as
well and truthfully as he could.
"Not long after the Arabs had departed, a dishful of hot hashed-meat
cakes was sent to us by Sayd bin Majid, and a curried chicken was
received from Mohammed bin Sali, and Moeni Kheri sent a dishful of
stewed goat meat and rice; and thus presents of food came in succession,
and as fast as they were brought we set to. I had a healthy, stubborn
digestion, the exercise I had taken had put it in prime order, but
Livingstone--he had been complaining that he had no appetite, that his
stomach refused everything but a cup of tea now and then--he ate
also--ate like a vigorous, hungry man; and as he vied with me in
demolishing the pancakes, he kept repeating, 'You have brought me new
life.'
"'Oh, by George,' I said, 'I have forgotten something. Hasten, Selim,
and bring that bottle; you know which; and bring me the silver goblets.
I brought this bottle on purpose for this event, which I hoped would
come to pass, though often it seemed useless to expect it.'
"Selim knew where the bottle was, and he soon returned with it--a bottle
of Sillery champagne; and, handing the doctor a silver goblet brimful of
the exhilarating wine, and pouring a small quantity into my own, I said:
'Dr. Livingstone, to your very good health, sir.'
"'And to yours,' he responded.
"And the champagne I had treasured for this happy meeting was drank with
hearty good wishes to each other.
"But we kept on talking and talking, and prepared food was brought to us
all that afternoon, and we kept on eating every time it was brought
until I had eaten even to repletion, and the doctor was obliged to
confess that he had eaten enough. Still, Halimah, the female cook of the
doctor's establishment, was in a state of the greatest excitement. She
had been protruding her head out of the cook-house, to make sure that
there were really two white men sitting down in the veranda, when there
used to be only one, who would not, because he could not, eat anything;
and she had been considerably exercised in her mind over this fact. She
was afraid the doctor did not properly appreciate her culinary
abilities; but now she was amazed at the extraordinary quantity of food
eaten, and she was in a state of delightful excitement. We could hear
her tongue rolling off a tremendous volume of clatter to the wondering
crowds who halted before the kitchen to hear the current of news with
which she edified them. Poor, faithful soul. While we listen to the
noise of her furious gossip, the doctor related her faithful services
and the terrible anxiety she evinced when the guns first announced the
arrival of another white man in Ujiji; how she had been flying about in
a state of the utmost excitement, from the kitchen into his presence,
and out again into the square, asking all sorts of questions; how she
was in despair at the scantiness of the general larder and treasury of
the strange household; how she was anxious to make up for their poverty
by a grand appearance--to make up a sort of Barmecide feast to welcome
the white man.
"'Why,' said she, 'is he not one of us? Does he not bring plenty of
cloth and beads? Talk about the Arabs! Who are they, that they should be
compared to white men? Arabs, indeed!'
"The doctor and I conversed upon many things, especially upon his own
immediate troubles, and his disappointment upon his arrival at Ujiji
when told that all his goods had been sold, and he was reduced to
poverty. He had but twenty cloths or so left of the stock he had
deposited with the man called sheriff, the half-caste, drunken tailor,
who was sent by the British consul in charge of the goods. Besides which
he had been suffering from an attack of the dysentery, and his condition
was most deplorable. He was but little improved on this day, though he
had eaten well, and already began to feel stronger and better.
"This day, like all others, though big with happiness to me, at last,
was fading away. We, sitting with our faces looking to the east, as
Livingstone had been sitting for days preceding my arrival, noted the
dark shadow which crept up above the grove of palms beyond the village,
and above the rampart of mountains which we had crossed that day, now
looming through the fast-approaching darkness; and we listened, with our
hearts full of gratitude to the great Giver of Good and Dispenser of all
Happiness to the sonorous thunder of the surf of the Tanganika, and to
the chorus which the night insects sang. Hours passed, and we were still
sitting there with our minds busy upon the day's remarkable events, when
I remembered that the venerable traveler had not yet read his letters.
"'Doctor,' I said, 'you had better read your letters. I will not keep
you up any longer.'
"'Yes,' he answered, 'it is getting late, and I will go and read my
friends' letters. Good-night, and God bless you.'
"'Good-night, my dear doctor, and let me hope, your news will be such as
you desire.'"
Since the creation of the world there never has occurred such another
interview. The feelings of Stanley that night, in the heart of Africa,
can only be imagined. The strain had ended, the doubt and suspense were
over--_he had found Livingstone!_ he had succeeded; his most extravagant
dreams had been realized; his wildest ambition was satisfied, and from
that hour the adventurer, the newspaper correspondent, took his place
among the great explorers of the world. But it was no stroke of
luck,--it was the fitting reward of great risks and great endeavor.