_MUNGO PARK AT HOME--(Continued)._
After the publication of his narrative there was nothing to detain Park
longer in London, while there was much to attract him to Scotland.
Accordingly he returned to Foulshiels in the summer of 1799.
On the 2nd of August of that year he was married to Miss Anderson.
Of the personality of this lady we know little beyond the simple
facts that she was tall and handsome, amiable in disposition, with
no special mental endowments, and if anything somewhat frivolous and
pleasure-loving--characteristics very unlike what we should have
expected in the wife of such a man as Park.
In personal appearance the young explorer must have been quite a
match for his wife. The portrait of him which has come down to us
shows a head of noble proportions. The fine brow speaks of his mental
powers; the prominent, finely chiselled nose, firm, well-shaped mouth,
and powerful jaws, indicate the iron will and marked individuality
which he showed himself to possess. No less striking and attractive
are the eyes, which look forth so calmly, aglow with truthfulness,
self-possession, and confidence. In person he was tall, reaching quite
six feet, and exceedingly well proportioned. His whole appearance was
prepossessing.
It is impossible to say what were Park’s plans for his future life
when he took to himself a wife. Probably they were but ill-defined
even to himself. It may be safely concluded, however, that he had
then no intention of returning to Africa. All the horrors of his
recent experiences were still too strongly upon him to make the idea
of a new journey welcome. Moreover, the after penalty of those months
of starvation and atrocious fare had still to be paid by inveterate
dyspepsia and its concomitant evils of gloom and despondency. While
under its influence his sleep was much broken, and too often night
was made one hideous nightmare by dreams of being back once more in
captivity among the Moors of Ludamar, and subjected to the old tortures
and indignities.
Probably, therefore, when he married, he did so in the belief that
there would be no occasion for separation--no likelihood of his ever
entering upon any engagements which should make him unable to fulfil
his duty to his wife as a loving, ever-present protector and support.
At no time does Park ever seem to have been enamoured of his
profession, and after the life he had recently led he felt a repugnance
to settling down to its uncongenial routine.
For the moment, however, he did not feel called upon to come to
an immediate decision as to his future work in life. The liberal
remuneration which he had received from the African Association,
together with the profits of his book, had placed him for the time
being in easy circumstances. He could therefore afford to wait to see
what might turn up. He had become well known. He had powerful friends.
There was accordingly every likelihood that something congenial would
be found for him. Meanwhile he resolved to settle down quietly at
Foulshiels.
At this period his mother was still alive, and the farm was worked by
one of his brothers. Most of the family had done well. One sister, as
we have already seen, had married Mr. Dickson, who had risen both to
moderate affluence and to considerable fame as a botanist. Another
had found a husband in a well-to-do farmer in the neighbourhood.
His brother Adam had gone through the same course as himself, and
had become established as a doctor in Gravesend; while a second
brother, Alexander, had been made under-sheriff for the county, the
sheriff-principal being Sir Walter Scott.
Of this brother Scott himself gives us a sketch in his introduction
to the “Lady of the Lake,” when recalling his doubts of the poem’s
success:--
“I remember that about the same time a friend (Arch. Park) started in
to ‘heeze up my hope,’ like the sportsman with his cutty gun in the
old song. He was bred a farmer, but a man of powerful understanding,
natural good taste, and warm poetical feeling, perfectly competent
to supply the wants of an imperfect or irregular education. He was a
passionate admirer of field sports, which we often pursued together.”
And then Scott goes on to tell how he was in the habit of reading the
poem to him to experiment as to the effect produced on one who was “but
too favourable a representative of readers at large.” Archibald Park
remained in Scott’s employment for many years, and was frequently his
companion in his mountain rides.
In 1799, the Government made certain proposals to Park relative
to his going out in some official capacity to New South Wales. Of
this, however, nothing came, though whether the fault lay with the
Government or with the explorer is not known.
The natural consequences of idleness to a man of Park’s personality
and past life soon became apparent. With a wife of no particular depth
of character and no special mental attainments, however attractive and
amiable she might otherwise be, there could be but small absorption of
his thoughts. With no other society, and no work to keep him occupied,
there could be but one result--restlessness and revolt against the
position in which he found himself, and the gradual upgrowth of the old
longings and ideas--the irrepressible fever of travel. Coincidently
he began to forget the hardships and dangers he had experienced, and
as they grew less and less vivid, and gradually dropped into the
background of his memory, the fascination of discovery, of travel
in strange lands and among strange peoples--the wish to settle the
unsolved mystery of the Niger--began anew to assert their power and
possess him with ever-growing force.
For the time the African Association was resting on their oars as far
as prosecuting their work from West Africa was concerned, though in
1798 Horneman had been despatched to penetrate to the Sudan from Egypt.
No doubt this was partly due to the enormous difficulties and ever
present dangers which Park had described, partly also perhaps on
account of the war then being waged with France.
In 1800 Goree had been captured, an event which inspired Park to write
(July 31, 1800) to Sir Joseph Banks, pointing out its importance
in relation to renewed attempts to penetrate the interior of the
Continent. After describing his views on the subject, he adds--“If
such are the views of Government, I hope that my exertions in some
station or other may be of use to my country.”
In 1801 the negotiations with the Government relative to the New South
Wales mission were resumed. A visit to London was found necessary for a
satisfactory discussion of the matter, and accordingly we find Park in
the metropolis in the early spring.
How deep and tender was his affection for his winsome wife is shown
in a letter written to her during the visit--one of the few glimpses
that have come down to us of the more private side of the explorer’s
character.
The letter is dated March 12th, 1801, and is as follows:--
“MY LOVELY AILIE,--Nothing gives me more pleasure than to write
to you, and the reason why I delayed it a day last time was to
get some money to send to you. You say you are wishing to spend
a note upon yourself. My sweet Ailie, you may be sure I approve
of it. What is mine is yours, and I receive much pleasure from
your goodness in consulting me about such a trifle. I wish I had
thousands to give you, but I know that my Ailie will be contented
with what we have, and we shall live in the hope of seeing better
days. I long very much to be with you, my love, and I was in great
hopes of having things settled before now, but Sir Joseph (Banks)
is ill, and I can do nothing till he recovers.
“I am happy to know you will go to New South Wales with me, my
sweet wife. You are everything that I could desire; and wherever
we go, you may be sure of one thing, that I shall always love you.
Whenever I have fixed on this or any other situation I shall write
to you. In the meantime, let nobody know till things are settled,
as there is much between the cup and the lip.
“My lovely Ailie, you are constantly in my thoughts. I am tired
of this place, but cannot lose the present opportunity of doing
something for our advantage. When that is accomplished I shall not
lose one moment. My darling, when we meet I shall be the happiest
man on earth. Write soon, for I count the days till I hear from
you, my lovely Ailie.”
Again the negotiations with the Government fell through, and there
was nothing for it but for Park to return once more to Foulshiels
disappointed and discouraged, but possessed more than ever by the
fever of unrest--more and more under the influence of the Niger
magnet--against which the sole counteracting forces were love for his
wife, the dread of being separated from her, and his duty as a husband.
It was in this not very suitable mood that he was forced to face the
fact that he must no longer depend on the vague hope of finding a
congenial opening, but must put his hand to something, however alien to
his tastes and aspirations. For a time he thought of taking a farm, but
at last reluctantly came to the conclusion that his best course would
be to resume his profession as a doctor. An opening presented itself
in the neighbouring town of Peebles, where he went to reside in the
month of October, occupying a house at the head of the Brygate, while
his surgery was a small projecting building--since demolished--east
from the first Chambers’ Institute. In a lane behind was his humble
laboratory.
[Illustration:
I had a letter from Adam on Monday-last but I suppose by this time
he has sailed for India.
My compl. to all friends and I remain my lovely Ailie yours ever
Mungo Park.
London }
March 12}
1801 }
P.S. write soon for I count the days until your answer comes
EXTRACT OF MUNGO PARK’S LETTER TO HIS WIFE.]
Park threw himself into his work with characteristic energy and
thoroughness, and speedily won for himself a fair share of the practice
of the town and country. The profits, however, were of the poorest, and
the work of the hardest--so much so, indeed, that he once said to Scott
he “would rather brave Africa and all its horrors than wear out his
life in long and toilsome rides over cold and lonely heaths and gloomy
hills, assailed by the wintry tempest, for which the remuneration was
hardly enough to keep soul and body together.”
On the strength of this reported offhand remark, Ruskin, without
troubling to inquire further into the history of the man, has
formulated the following indictment. This “terrific” sentence, he says,
“signifies, if you look into it, almost total absence of the instinct
of personal duty--total absence of belief in the God who chose for him
his cottage birthplace and set him his life task beside it; absolute
want of interest in his profession, of sense for natural beauty,
and of compassion for the noblest poor of his native land. And with
these absences there is the clearest evidence of the fatalist of the
vices, Avarice--in the exact form in which it was the ruin of Scott
himself--the love of money for the sake of worldly position.”
Never was more sweeping accusation founded on more slender data.
Practically, Park is charged with absence of a belief in God, and of a
sense of duty to his fellows, because he finds his profession toilsome
and uncongenial.
The argument seems to be that the man is an atheist and a sinner
against society who is not content to remain in the sphere in which he
was born, and in which accordingly his life task is divinely set.
Were such a position tenable, it is difficult to see how any progress,
either personal or social, would be possible. From it, in the present
instance, would naturally follow that Park was as little to be
justified in choosing to be a doctor rather than a peasant farmer, as
in preferring to be an explorer rather than either.
What Ruskin takes exception to, however, is not Park’s choosing a
profession, but that the choice once made, he should seek to abandon
it. But if it were permissible to him as a youth, ignorant alike of
himself, the world, and the profession he was about to enter, to
choose, surely it was equally permissible that as a man, with some
knowledge of all three, he should withdraw in favour of the work to
which he knew himself adapted. The instinct and capacities which fitted
him for an explorer were as divinely implanted as his birthplace had
been divinely appointed. Moreover, those “noblest poor of his native
land,” to whom Ruskin so pathetically refers, were not alone dependent
on Park for medical aid--a circumstance which would have lent another
colour to his final resolve to forsake them. Doctors there were in
plenty, alike able and willing to serve them; but there was but one
Mungo Park--but one man, as far as was known, who by his special
gifts and wide experience was suited for the peculiar and arduous
work of African exploration. Upon him then it devolved, with all the
sacrednesss of a divinely appointed mission, as indeed he deemed
it, and accepted it accordingly, to the exclusion of all narrower
obligations.
There still remains the charge of Avarice, based on Park’s simple
statement that his “unceasing toil was hardly sufficient to keep soul
and body together.” Is then the physician less entitled than say the
author to a just remuneration for his services, or does Ruskin share
the not uncommon popular delusion that though butchers’ and bakers’
bills demand immediate attention, the payment of the doctor’s is to be
regarded as optional, or subject to the convenience of the patient.
Neither supposition is to be entertained for a moment. Indeed the
charge rests upon too flimsy a foundation ever to be taken seriously by
any unprejudiced mind, and we can only regretfully wonder what could
have induced Mr. Ruskin so far to forget the Justice and Charity he is
so fond of preaching as to bring it forward.
Beyond the record of “unceasing toil” little is known of how Park spent
the time he was resident in Peebles. The town itself is described
as being in those days “quiet as the grave”--a reputation it still
maintains, judging from the innuendo in the ironical phrase, “Peebles
for pleasure!”
To Park, however, the absence of the brighter aspect of life was a
small matter. Society had but little attraction for him, and his was
the severe Scottish nature which avoided as almost sinful anything
bordering upon frivolous pleasure. From all lionising and the silly
questioning of the ignorant and the impertinently curious he had a
natural shrinking, though at any time delighted to talk of his travels
and of matters African with the intelligent and the well-informed.
Quiet and seclusion were, however, more to his mind, and were to be
enjoyed to the full in the peaceful little town. Such society as he
wanted he had in his own domestic circle, beyond which he was happy
in the intimacy which sprang up between him and two distinguished
residents--Colonel John Murray of Kringaltie and Dr. Adam Ferguson,
formerly Professor of Moral Philosophy in Edinburgh, and author
of several well-known works. Toilsome and monotonous as was his
professional life, it was not without its brighter and more humorous
side, as witness the following story told by Dr. Anderson, the nephew
of Park’s wife:--
“One wild night in winter Park lost his way, till discovering a light,
he directed his horse towards it, and found himself before a shepherd’s
cottage. It so happened that the Doctor arrived there in the nick
of time, for the shepherd’s wife was on the point of confinement.
He waited till all was safely over, and next morning the shepherd
escorted him to where he could see the distant road. Park, noticing
his conductor lag behind, asked him the reason, on which the simple or
humorous man replied, ‘’Deed, sir, my wife said she was sure you must
be an angel, and I think sae tae; so I am just keepin’ ahint to be sure
I’ll see you flee up.’”
As time went on, Park’s longing to return to Africa grew ever more
intense, nourished as it was by hopes from time to time held out to
him. Barely, for instance, had he settled down to life in Peebles,
when he received a letter from Sir Joseph Banks, acquainting him that
in consequence of the Peace (then recently signed with France), the
Association intended to revive their project of sending a mission to
Africa in order to penetrate to and navigate the Niger. If Government
took up the matter, Park would certainly be recommended as the person
proper to be employed for carrying it into execution. As with previous
projects, however, nothing came of it for the time being, though it
continued to be talked about more or less during the next two years.
In the autumn of 1803 he was desired by the Colonial Office to
repair without delay to London. This summons he promptly obeyed. On
his arrival he had an interview with the Earl of Buckingham, the
Secretary for the Colonies, who informed him that the Government had
resolved on fitting out an expedition to Africa, of which he was to
have the command, if he was willing to take it. It was exactly what
he wanted--exactly what he had been impatiently awaiting for three
years; but nevertheless he asked for a short time to think the matter
over and consult his friends. The favour was granted, and he returned
to Scotland. The consultations referred to being for the most part a
mere formality, in a few days his acceptance was forwarded to London,
whither he followed immediately after arranging his affairs and taking
leave of his family.
[Map: REDUCED FAC-SIMILE OF MUNGO PARK’S AUTOGRAPH MAP.]