_I.--Early Experiences_
David Livingstone was born at Blantyre, on the Clyde
(Scotland), on March 19, 1813, the son of a small
tea-dealer. Working as a boy in a cotton-mill, he learnt
Latin by the midnight candle, and later attended medical
and Greek classes at Glasgow University, where he
qualified as doctor of medicine. He sailed as missionary
to Africa in 1840, and worked at Kuruman with Moffat,
whose daughter he married. Setting out to explore the
interior in 1849, Livingstone eventually discovered Lakes
Ngami, Shirwa, Dilolo, Bangweolo, Tanganyika, and Nyassa,
and the Rivers Zambesi, Shire, and Kasai, also the
Victoria and Murchison Falls. His scientific researches
were invaluable, his character so pure and brave that he
made the white man respected. Stanley visited and helped
him in 1871, but on May 1, 1873, he died at Ilala, and his
remains, carefully preserved by his native servants, were
brought to England and buried with great honours in
Westminster Abbey. His "Missionary Travels and Researches
in South Africa," published during his visit to England in
1857, make delightful reading, and thoroughly reflect the
inmost character of the man. There is no attempt at
literary style; the story is told with a simplicity and an
apparent unconsciousness of having done anything
remarkable that cannot fail to captivate.
My own inclination would lead me to say as little as possible about
myself. My great-grandfather fell at Culloden, my grandfather used to
tell us national stories, and my grandmother sang Gaelic songs. To my
father and the other children the dying injunction was, "Now, in my
lifetime I have searched most carefully through all the traditions I
could find of our family, and I never could discover that there was a
dishonest man among our forefathers. If, therefore, any of you or any of
your children should take to dishonest ways, it will not be because it
runs in your blood, it does not belong to you. I leave this precept
with you--Be honest."
As a boy I worked at a cotton factory at Blantyre to lessen the family
anxieties, and bought my "Rudiments of Latin" out of my first week's
wages, pursuing the study of that language at an evening school,
followed up till twelve o'clock or later, if my mother did not interfere
by jumping up and snatching the books out of my hands. Reading
everything I could lay my hands on, except novels, scientific works and
books of travel were my especial delight. Great pains had been taken by
my parents to instil the doctrines of Christianity into my mind. My
early desire was to become a pioneer missionary in China, and eventually
I offered my services to the London Missionary Society, having passed my
medical examination at Glasgow University.
I embarked for Africa in 1840, and from Cape Town travelled up country
seven hundred miles to Kuruman, where I joined Mr. Moffat in his work,
and after four years as a bachelor, I married his daughter Mary.
Settling among the Mabotsa tribe, I found that they were troubled with
attacks from lions, so one day I went with my gun into the bush and shot
one, but the wounded beast sprang upon me, and felled me to the ground.
While perfectly conscious, I lost all sense of fear or feeling, and
narrowly escaped with my life. Besides crunching the bone into
splinters, he left eleven teeth wounds on the upper part of my arm.
I attached myself to the tribe called Bakwains, whose chief, Sechele, a
most intelligent man, became my fast friend, and a convert to
Christianity. The Bakwains had many excellent qualities, which might
have been developed by association with European nations. An adverse
influence, however, is exercised by the Boers, for, while claiming for
themselves the title of Christians, they treat these natives as black
property, and their system of domestic slavery and robbery is a disgrace
to the white man. For my defence of the rights of Sechele and the
Bakwains, I was treated as conniving at their resistance, and my house
was destroyed, my library, the solace of our solitude, torn to pieces,
my stock of medicines smashed, and our furniture and clothing sold at
public auction to pay the expenses of the foray.
In travelling we sometimes suffered from a scarcity of meat, and the
natives, to show their sympathy for the children, often gave them
caterpillars to eat; but one of the dishes they most enjoyed was cooked
"mathametlo," a large frog, which, during a period of drought, takes
refuge in a hole in the root of certain bushes, and over the orifice a
large variety of spider weaves its web. The scavenger-beetle, which
keeps the Kuruman villages sweet and clean, rolls the dirt into a ball,
and carries it, like Atlas, on its back.
In passing across the great Kalahari desert we met with the Bushmen, or
Bakalahari, who, from dread of visits from strange tribes, choose their
residences far away from water, hiding their supplies of this necessity
for life in pits filled up by women, who pass every drop through their
mouths as a pump, using a straw to guide the stream into the vessel.
They will never disclose this supply to strangers, but by sitting down
and waiting with patience until the villagers were led to form a
favourable opinion of us, a woman would bring out a shell full of the
precious fluid from I knew not where.
At Nchokotsa we came upon a number of salt-pans, which, in the setting
sun, produced a most beautiful mirage as of distant water, foliage, and
animals. We discovered the river Zouga, and eventually, on August 1,
1849, we were the first Europeans to gaze upon the broad waters of Lake
Ngami. My chief object in coming to this lake was to visit Sebituane,
the great chief of the Makololo, a man of immense influence, who had
conquered the black tribes of the country and made himself dreaded even
by the terrible Mosilikatse.
During our stay with him he treated us with great respect, and was
pleased with the confidence we had shown in bringing our children to
him. He was stricken with inflammation of the lungs, and knew it meant
death, though his native doctors said, "Sebituane can never die." I
visited him with my little boy Robert. "Come near," said he, "and see if
I am any longer a man. I am done." After sitting with him some time and
commending him to the mercy of God, I rose to depart, when the dying
chieftain, raising himself up a little from his prone position, called a
servant, and said, "Take Robert to Maunku (one of his wives), and tell
her to give him some milk." These were the last words of Sebituane.
_II.--Among the Makololo_
On questioning intelligent men amongst these natives as to a knowledge
of good and evil, of God and the future state, they possessed a
tolerably clear perception on these subjects. Their want, however, of
any form of public worship, or of idols, or of formal prayers and
sacrifices, make both the Caffres and Bechuanas appear as amongst the
most godless races of mortals known anywhere. When an old Bushman on one
occasion was sitting by the fire relating his adventures, including his
murder of five other natives, he was remonstrated with. "What will God
say when you appear before Him?" "He will say," replied he, "that I was
a very clever fellow." But I found afterwards in speaking of the Deity
they had only the idea of a chief, and when I knew this, I did not make
any mistake afterwards.
The country round Unku was covered with grass, and the flowers were in
full bloom. The thermometer in the shade generally stood at 98 deg. from
1 to 3 p.m., but it sank as low as 65 deg. by night, so that the heat
was by no means exhausting. At the surface of the ground in the sun it
marked 125 deg., and three inches below 138 deg. The hand cannot be
held on the ground, and even the horny soles of the natives are
protected by hide sandals, yet the ants were busy working in it. The
water in the floods was as high as 100 deg., but as water does not
conduct heat readily downwards, deliriously cool water may be obtained
by anyone walking into the middle and lifting up the water from the
bottom to the surface by the hands.
We at last reached a spot where, by climbing the highest tree, we could
see a fine large sheet of water, surrounded on all sides by an
impenetrable belt of reeds. This was the river Chobe, and is called
Zambesi. We struggled through the high, serrated grass, the heat
stifling for want of air, and when we reached one of the islands, my
strong moleskins were worn through at the knees, and the leather
trousers of my companion were torn, and his legs bleeding. The Makololo
said in their figurative language: "He has dropped among us from the
clouds, yet came riding on the back of a hippopotamus. We Makololo
thought no one could cross the Chobe without our knowledge, but here he
drops among us like a bird."
On our arrival at Linyanti, the capital, the chief, Sekelutu, took me
aside and pressed me to mention those things I liked best and hoped to
get from him. Anything either in or out of the town should be freely
given if I would only mention it. I explained to him that my object was
to elevate him and his people to be Christians; but he replied that he
did not wish to learn to read the Book, for he was afraid "it might
change his heart and make him content with one wife like Sechele." I
liked the frankness of Sekelutu, for nothing is so wearying to the
spirit as talking to those who agree with everything advanced.
While at Linyanti I was taken with fever, from chills caught by leaving
my warm wagon in the evening to conduct family worship at my people's
fires. Anxious to ascertain whether the natives possessed the knowledge
of any remedy, I sent for one of their doctors. He put some roots into
a pot with water, and when it was boiling, placed it beneath a blanket
thrown around both me and it. This produced no effect, and after being
stewed in their vapour baths, smoked like a red-herring over green
twigs, and charmed _secundem artem_, I concluded I could cure my fever
more quickly than they could.
Leaving Linyanti, we passed up the Lecambye river into the Barotse
country, and on making inquiries whether Santuru, the Moloiana, had ever
been visited by white men, I could find no vestige of any such visit
before my arrival in 1851.
In our ascent up the River Leeba, we reached the village of Manenko, a
female chief, of whose power of tongue we soon had ample proof. She was
a woman of fine physique, and insisted on accompanying us some distance
with her husband and drummer, the latter thumping most vigorously, until
a heavy, drizzling mist set in and compelled him to desist. Her husband
used various incantations and vociferations to drive away the rain, but
down it poured incessantly, and on our Amazon went, in the very lightest
marching order, and at a pace that few men could keep up with. Being on
ox-back, I kept pretty close to our leader, and asked her why she did
not clothe herself during the rain, and learnt that it is not considered
proper for a chief to appear effeminate. My men, in admiration of her
pedestrian powers, every now and then remarked, "Manenko is a soldier!"
Thoroughly wet and cold, we were all glad when she proposed a halt to
prepare for our night's lodging on the banks of a stream.
_III.--Peril and Patience_
When we arrived at the foot of the Kasai we were badly in want of food,
and there seemed little hope of getting any; one of our guides, however,
caught a light-blue mole and two mice for his supper. Katende, the
chief, sent for me the following morning, and on my walking into his
hut I was told that he wanted a man, a tusk, beads, copper rings, and a
shell as payment for leave to pass through his country. Having humbly
explained our circumstances and that he could not expect to "catch a
humble cow by the horns"--a proverb similar to ours that "You cannot
draw milk out of a stone"--we were told to go home, and he would speak
to us next day. I could not avoid a hearty laugh at the cool impudence
of the savage. Eventually I sent him one of my worst shirts, but added
that when I should reach my own chief naked, and was asked what I had
done with my clothes, I should be obliged to confess I had left them
with Katende.
Passing onwards, we crossed a small rivulet, the Sengko, and another and
larger one with a bridge over it. At the farther end of this structure
stood a negro who demanded fees. He said the bridge was his, the guides
were his children, and if we did not pay him, he would prevent further
progress. This piece of civilisation I was not prepared to meet, and
stood a few seconds looking at our bold toll-keeper, when one of our men
took off three copper bracelets, which paid for the whole party. The
negro was a better man than he at first seemed, for he immediately went
into his garden and brought us some leaves of tobacco as a present.
We were brought to a stand on the banks of the Loajima, a tributary of
the Kasai, by the severity of my fever, being in a state of partial
coma, until late at night, I found we were in the midst of enemies; and
the Chiboque natives insisting upon a present, I had to give them a
tired-out ox. Later on we marched through the gloomy forest in gloomier
silence; the thick atmosphere prevented my seeing the creeping plants in
time to avoid them; I was often caught, and as there is no stopping the
oxen when they have the prospect of giving the rider a tumble, came
frequently to the ground. In addition to these mishaps, my ox Sinbad
went off at a plunging gallop, the bridle broke, and I came down behind
on the crown of my head. He gave me a kick in the thigh at the same
time. I felt none the worse for this rough treatment, but would not
recommend it to others as a palliative in cases of fever.
We shortly afterwards met a hostile party of natives, who refused us
further passage. Seeing that these people had plenty of iron-headed
arrows and some guns, I called a halt, and ordered my men to put the
luggage in the centre in case of actual attack. I then dismounted, and
advancing a little towards our principal opponent, showed him how easily
I could kill him, but pointed upwards, saying, "I fear God." He did the
same, placing his hand on his heart, pointing upwards, and saying, "I
fear to kill, but come to our village; come, do come."
During these exciting scenes I always forgot my fever, but a terrible
sense of sinking came back with the feeling of safety. These people
stole our beads, and though we offered all our ornaments and my shirts,
they refused us passage. My men were so disheartened that they proposed
a return home, which distressed me exceedingly. After using all my
powers of persuasion, I declared to them that if they returned, I would
go on alone, and went into my little tent with the mind directed to Him
Who hears the sighing of the soul, and was soon followed by the head of
Mohorisi, saying, "We will never leave you. Do not be disheartened.
Wherever you lead, we will follow. Our remarks were made only on account
of the injustice of these people."
We were soon on the banks of the Quango, and after some difficulties
reached the opposite bank.
The village of Cassenge is composed of thirty or forty traders' houses
on an elevated flat spot in the great Quango, or Cassenge, valley. As I
always preferred to appear in my own proper character, I was an object
of curiosity to the hospitable Portuguese. They evidently looked upon me
as an agent of the English government, engaged in some new movement for
the suppression of slavery. They could not divine what a "missionario"
had to do with the latitudes and longitudes which I was intent on
observing.
On coming across the plains to Loanda we first beheld the sea; my
companions looked upon the boundless ocean with awe. In describing their
feelings afterwards they remarked, "We marched along with our father
thinking that what the ancients had always told us was true, that the
world has no end, but all at once the world said to us, 'I am finished,
there is no more of me.'"
Here in this city, among its population of 12,000 souls there was but
one genuine English gentleman, who bade me welcome, and seeing me ill,
benevolently offered me his bed. Never shall I forget the luxuriant
pleasure I enjoyed feeling myself again on a good English couch, after
six months sleeping on the ground.
_IV.--Into the Wilderness Again_
For the sake of my Makololo companions I refused the tempting offer of a
passage home in one of her majesty's cruisers.
During my journey through Angola I received at Cassenge a packet of the
"Times" from home with news of the Russian war up to the terrible charge
of the light cavalry. The intense anxiety I felt to hear more may be
imagined by every true patriot.
After leaving the Kasai country, we entered upon a great level plain,
which we had formerly found in a flooded condition. We forded the
Lotembwa on June 8, and found that the little Lake Dilolo, by giving a
portion to our Kasai and another to the Zambesi, distributes its waters
to the Atlantic and Indian oceans. From information derived from Arabs
at Zanzibar, whom I met at Naliele in the middle of the country, a large
shallow lake is pointed out in the region east of Loanda, named
Tanganyenka, which requires three days in crossing in canoes. It is
connected with another named Kalagwe (Garague?), farther north, and may
be the Nyanja of the Maravim.
Although I was warned that the Batoka tribe would be hostile, I decided
on going down the Zambesi, and on my way I visited the falls of
Victoria, called by the natives Mosioatunya, or more anciently, Shongwe.
No one can imagine the beauty of the view from anything witnessed in
England. It has never been seen before by European eyes, but scenes so
lovely must have been gazed upon by angels in their flight. Five columns
of "smoke" arose, bending in the direction of the wind. The entire falls
is simply a crack made in a hard basaltic rock from the right to the
left bank of the Zambesi, and then prolonged from the left bank away
through thirty or forty miles of hills. The whole scene was extremely
beautiful; the banks and islands dotted over the river are adorned with
sylvan vegetation of great variety of colour and form. At the period of
our visit several of the trees were spangled over with blossoms.
In due time we reached the confluence of the Loangwa and the Zambesi,
most thankful to God for His great mercies in helping us thus far. I
felt some turmoil of spirit in the evening at the prospect of having all
my efforts for the welfare of this great region and its teeming
population knocked on the head by savages to-morrow, who might be said
to "know not what they do."
When at last we reached within eight miles of Tete I was too fatigued to
go on, but sent the commandant the letters of recommendation of the
bishop and lay down to rest. Next morning two officers and some soldiers
came to fetch us, and when I had partaken of a good breakfast, though I
had just before been too tired to sleep, all my fatigue vanished. The
pleasure of that breakfast was enhanced by the news that Sebastopol had
fallen and the war finished.