said Handel reverently, as he spoke of the Hallelujah Chorus, which so
deeply impressed the audience in the Covent Garden Theatre on the first
night that, one and all, with the king setting the example, they sprang
to their feet and stood to the end. The musician had led them into the
very Presence of God.
Other oratorios followed--"Samson," "Judas Maccabeus," and
"Jephtha"--but none of them equalled "The Messiah." To this great work
Handel had given freely of his best, before that dark cloud arose which
saddened all his later days. For gradually blindness crept over him,
till at last his sight departed for ever. In spite of this he continued
to conduct his own works, and to the last insisted on being led to the
organ, that he might play the concertos and voluntaries between the
parts of his oratorios. And we hear how, when the fine solo in
"Samson"--
"Total eclipse--no sun, no moon:
All dark amid the blaze of noon,"
was sung with great feeling at one performance, the sight of the blind
composer sitting at the organ was so indescribably touching, that many
present were moved to tears.
On the 5th of April, 1759, a notice appeared in the _Public Advertiser_
that "The Messiah" would be performed in Covent Garden on the 6th of
April for the last time in the season.
Handel conducted his work, was carried fainting from the hall, and in
less than a week had passed away. His own wish, when he knew how near
the end loomed, was that he might die on Good Friday, "in hopes," he
said, "of meeting my good God and sweet Saviour on the day of His
resurrection." And in this trustful spirit he went to the God he had so
worthily worshipped.
His funeral was intended to be private, but thousands came to it, and
though no trace remains of the music sung on that occasion, I cannot
help hoping that some boy's clear voice rang through the aisles as he
sang "I know that my Redeemer liveth." Nothing would have been so
fitting, and those are the words, nobler far than any epitaph, which the
good taste of some friend caused to be inscribed on his monument in the
Poets' Corner.
*CHAPTER XVIII*
*WILBERFORCE AND HIS FELLOW-WORKERS*
The desire of Abou Ben Adhem that his name might be handed on as one
"who loved his fellow-men" would form a fitting epitaph not only to
those great-hearted workers in the cause of humanity whom the Abbey has
delighted to honour--William Wilberforce, the liberator of the slave,
and David Livingstone, the missionary and explorer in Darkest
Africa--but also to those others who toiled with them in the same great
cause of freedom, and whose claims to the grateful recollection of the
nation are recorded only by monuments--Granville Sharp, Jonas Hanway,
Zachary Macaulay, Fowell Buxton, and Anthony Astley Cooper, Earl of
Shaftesbury. A few words first about one of these latter, Granville
Sharp, for he it was who became the pioneer of that noble band who never
ceased from their labours till they had freed the slave on British
territory.
He was only a linen-draper's assistant, afterwards becoming a clerk in
the Ordnance Office; but the monotony of his work never allowed monotony
or narrowness to enter his life. His heart was responsive to every high
claim, and difficulties only meant to him obstacles to be overcome.
Courage, energy, and determination were his watchwords. His brother was
a doctor in Mincing Lane, who saw poor people free of charge, and among
his patients was a negro called Jonathan Strong, who had been brought to
London by his master, a lawyer, from Barbadoes, only to be turned out
into the streets friendless and homeless when he fell ill. Dr. Sharp
treated him so successfully that he became quite well, and Granville
Sharp found him a situation with a chemist, which he kept for some
years, until one day he was seen and recognised by his old employer, who
finding him well and active had him seized, and kept in custody until he
could be shipped off to the West Indies. Jonathan, in despair, thought
of Granville Sharp, and appealed to him for protection. Sharp at once
went to the Lord Mayor, who gave judgment that the man had been
wrongfully seized and held without a warrant, and ordered him to be at
once set at liberty. But then arose an unlooked-for difficulty.
Jonathan's late master had sold him, and his new owner appeared with the
bill of sale, claiming his property and declaring he had been robbed.
Then came the question as to whether the traffic in slaves which went on
openly, especially in London and Liverpool, was lawful or not. Was a
slave free when he reached England, or could he be seized and compelled
to go back? The lawyers declared that no English law protected the
slave. Granville Sharp refused to believe it. During the next few years
he spent every hour of his spare time in studying the law; in wading
through masses of dry Acts; in sorting, sifting, verifying, and quoting,
though more than one friendly lawyer assured him that all his work was a
useless waste of time. But the result of his labours surprised them as
much as it cheered the heart of Granville Sharp, for it proved that
"there was nothing in any English law or statute which could justify the
enslaving of others." He at once published a plain, clear pamphlet
which he called "The Injustice of Tolerating Slavery in England;" and
further than that, certain in the justice of his cause, he went down,
armed with a writ of Habeas Corpus, to Gravesend, where he had been told
of a captured negro who was being taken back by force. He found the
wretched man chained to the mainmast, but after a fierce struggle he got
possession of him and returned with him in triumph to London. He did
much the same in the case of another negro called James Somerset, whose
owner promptly brought the matter before Lord Chief-Justice Mansfield,
who declared the question to be so important and doubtful a one that he
must take the opinion of the judges upon it. A very lengthy trial
followed. At last the court gave the opinion, that every man in England
had a right to his liberty unless he had broken the law; that the power
to seize or claim a slave in England had never been acknowledged by the
law, and that therefore Somerset was free. It was the first great step
towards a more far-reaching freedom, and it was mainly won by the
careful, devoted study of Granville Sharp, whose pamphlet had made a
great impression on the Lord Chief-Justice. The next step was to found
a society for the Abolition of Slavery, and to this flocked a number of
men, chiefly Quakers, who banded themselves together with most steadfast
determination never to cease from their labours until Parliament had
declared all traffic in slaves to be illegal in every part of the
British Empire. This was a gigantic undertaking, for British merchants
dealt largely in slaves, and they were so powerful a body that it was
certain the Government would shrink from opposing them. But this little
band of religious, earnest, chivalrous men had the strength which comes
from the conviction that theirs was a righteous cause destined in the
end to triumph over every obstacle. One of their number was William
Wilberforce, a young and a delicate-looking man, who when only twenty
years of age had been elected as member for Hull, with no powerful
support except what he derived from his own personal influence and his
independent character. In London he soon made his mark. Pitt became
his greatest friend, and in society he was made much of, so full was he
of wit and charm; while in addition to his many other gifts, he was an
excellent singer. But fascinating and absorbing as was the life into
which he was then thrown, it did not satisfy him. Even while he stood
on a height, he caught the glimpse of the height that is higher, the
which having once seen, no true man can rest until he has attained it.
As the vision unfolded itself before his eyes Wilberforce became a
changed man, so much so that for a time it was believed by his friends
that he would leave public life and go quietly to the country. But his
vision, instead of narrowing down his conception of duty, broadened it
out. "To shut myself up," he said to his mother, "would merit no better
name than desertion. It would be flying from the post in which I have
been placed, and I could not look for the blessing of God upon my
retirement."
Just at this crisis he came under the influence of two or three people
who felt intensely on the slavery question, and in him they saw the very
Parliamentary champion they needed. With his great influence, his
powers of speech, his many friends, his independent character, and his
high enthusiasms, Wilberforce seemed destined for this work, and he
eagerly grasped it. Here was a direct call from God, and to him now
every gift, every power he possessed was held as a sacred trust.
Besides, he was respected by all parties in the House, and the hope of
the Anti-Slavery party lay in their cause being non-political. Victory
could only crown their efforts when the whole moral feeling of the
nation was aroused, and much, very much hung on their choice of a
leader. "Mr. Wilberforce," said Granville Sharp, "with his position as
member for the largest county, the great influence of his personal
connections, added to his unblemished character, will secure every
advantage to the cause." So from the year 1787, William Wilberforce,
chivalrous as any knight of old, gave up his life to the righting of a
great wrong and to the deliverance of the oppressed.
For twenty years the fight went on, and though he was successfully
opposed over and over again by the strong West Indian party, assisted by
many of the Tories and the majority in the House of Lords, he was never
baffled or disheartened.
"I am in no degree discouraged," he said after one defeat. "It is again
my intention to move next year for the abolition, and though I dare not
hope to carry the bill through both Houses, yet, if I do not deceive
myself, this infamous and wicked traffic will not last out the century."
Both Pitt and Fox supported Wilberforce, but the opposition was solid
and wealthy, and the bill above mentioned, brought in during the session
of 1796, was again defeated by 78 votes to 61. The Revolution in France
was causing much excitement and apprehension among all classes of
Englishmen, and the opponents of Wilberforce attempted, among other
things, to prove that he was at heart a revolutionist, and that his
efforts to set free a class who had always been kept in slavery showed
that he believed in the revolutionary "rights of men."
"There is no greater enemy to all such delusions," Pitt warmly and
indignantly made reply.
But by 1804 a change had come about. All fears regarding a revolution
in England were allayed; every year Wilberforce and his party, by their
steady persistence, their moderation, and their powerful appeals to the
highest motives, had gained converts to their cause both in and out of
Parliament, and the Bill of May 30, 1804, was carried in the Commons by
a majority of over 70. This was by far the greatest triumph Wilberforce
had yet gained, but to his regret it was not proceeded with by the House
of Lords, who had thrown out the two previous bills, though, in fairness
be it said, the majorities with which they had come from the Commons had
been very small. However, the Abolitionists were by now accustomed to
possessing their souls in patience, and they knew the tide had turned in
their favour. The death of Pitt put Fox, who of the two men was the
more zealous supporter of their cause, into power; he prevailed upon a
majority in the Cabinet to declare that the slave trade was contrary to
the principles of justice, humanity, and sound policy, and should be
abolished by the House with all practicable expediency. In 1807 the
bill was again brought in, this time to be carried by a majority of 283
to 16. The Solicitor-General made a powerful speech, in which he
contrasted the feelings of the Emperor of the French in all his
greatness with those of that "honoured man who would soon lay his head
on his pillow, knowing that the slave trade was no more." At this
reference to Wilberforce the House burst into delighted applause. They
had seen him during his many years of brave fighting, and now that
victory was at hand, they cheered him with such cheers as had seldom
before been given to any man sitting in his place in either House.
Further opposition was useless, and the bill became law.
"God will bless this country," was Wilberforce's earnest declaration, in
the gladdest, proudest moment of his life. His own share in the good
work he counted as nothing.
Much was won, but not all. The slave trade was abolished--that is to
say, slaves could not be taken to any British possession, or put on any
British ships, and our warships were instructed to capture any vessels
disobeying this order. Yet slaves were still held by British masters in
the West Indies and on the American coast. Wilberforce, far from
resting content with his victory, made ready for a second fight, having
now for his lieutenant in the House of Commons, Fowell Buxton, called
Elephant Buxton, on account of his great size, a man as energetic and
indefatigable by nature as he was powerful in appearance. However sad
the lot of the slaves, they had been bought and paid for under the old
law by their masters, just as if they had been cattle or any other
marketable produce, so that if they were to be set free by law, the
money spent on them must in honour be returned to these masters, or
otherwise they would be ruined, and a great injustice would be done. To
compensate the owners, and thus honourably to free every slave, required
a large sum of money, not less than L20,000,000; but so changed had
become public opinion throughout England, and consequently in
Parliament, that the money was voted in 1833. For the last few years
Wilberforce had been in failing health, and his old place in the House
of Commons knew him no more; but Buxton had valiantly carried on the
work, in a spirit best illustrated by some words of his own:--
"The longer I live, the more certain I am that the great difference
between men, between the feeble and the powerful, the great and the
insignificant, is energy, _invincible determination_--a purpose once
fixed, and then, death or victory! That quality will do anything that
can be done in the world, and no talents, no circumstances, no
opportunities, will make a two-legged creature a man without it."
Wilberforce just lived to hear the glorious news which crowned his life
and work, and to realise that from that day forward there would not
exist a slave in any British colony. It was the great triumph of
righteousness, and humbly he thanked God that his had been the privilege
of leading the little army which had gone on from strength to strength
until its mission was accomplished. Two or three days later he passed
peacefully away, and immediately after his death this letter, signed by
all the leading members of both Houses of Parliament, was sent to his
son:--
"We being anxious upon public grounds to show our respect for the memory
of the late William Wilberforce, and being also satisfied that public
honours cannot be more fitly bestowed than upon such benefactors of
mankind, earnestly request that he may be buried in Westminster Abbey,
and that we, with others who agree with us in these sentiments, may have
permission to attend the funeral."
So to the Abbey he was brought. All public business was suspended, and
public men of every rank followed him to the grave. Members of
Parliament were there in numbers to show their reverence for one whose
eloquence had ever been put to the noblest uses, and, fitly enough, his
body was laid close to the tombs of Pitt and Fox.
"If you carry this point in your life, that life will be far better
spent than in being prime minister many years," a much-loved friend had
said to Wilberforce when he first resolved to devote himself to the
cause of the slave, and to set aside all thought of his own career and
ambition. The young enthusiast had counted the cost, but it had not
changed him from his determination, and though he lived and died plain
William Wilberforce, member of parliament, the Abbey roll of honour is
made richer by his name, and he rests worthily in the Statesmen's
Corner, great as any of those among whom he lies.
Just as Wilberforce was nearing the close of his life, a young spinner
in some mills near Glasgow, glowing with enthusiasm, was resolving to
offer himself as a medical missionary to China or Africa. David
Livingstone, for he it was, came of homely Scottish stock.
"The only point of family tradition I feel proud of is this," he
declared. "One of my forefathers, when on his death-bed, called his
children round him and said, 'I have searched diligently throughout all
the traditions of our family, and I never could find there was a
dishonest man among them.... So I leave this precept with you, Be
honest.'"
[Illustration: DAVID LIVINGSTONE.]
And perfectly honest David Livingstone certainly was to the end of his
days. Though he went to work in the mills when ten years old, his love
of books made him learn eagerly in every spare moment and on so late
into the night, that his mother, half in anger, half in pride, often
went to him at midnight and carried off every available light. However
David was a sturdy youth, or twelve hours' work each day in the factory
added to six hours' reading would have ruined his health. He was
twenty-five when he offered himself to the London Missionary Society,
and he was sent for a three months' trial to a training-place in Essex.
But when he had to deliver his first sermon, every idea fled from his
brain. "I have forgotten all I had to say, friends," he announced
frankly, and left the pulpit. But for his other sterling qualities,
this would have put an end to his career. As it was, he was given
another three months and came successfully out of the ordeal, after
which he went for two years to a London hospital. Africa was to be his
destination, "Don't go to an old station," Dr. Moffat, the veteran
missionary, said to him on the eve of his ordination. "But push on to
the vast unoccupied district to the north, where on a clear morning I
have seen the smoke of a thousand villages no missionary has ever
reached." Kuruman, an important station of the Missionary Society, more
than seven hundred miles up country, was his first halting-place after
leaving Cape Town, and he set himself with great energy to learn the
language of the natives, acting at the same time as their doctor. In
this last capacity he soon made his name famous, and patients came to
him over enormous distances. Splendid patients they were too, he always
declared, perfectly obedient and of extraordinary courage. When once he
had mastered their language, which he did in a short while, he combined
his missionary and medical work very happily.
In 1843 he left Kuruman to form a new station about two hundred miles to
the north-east at Mabotsa, and whilst here he married a daughter of Dr.
Moffat, a girl who had lived among missionaries for many years, and so
was accustomed to the rough, solitary existence which would be her lot.
"My time," wrote Livingstone to a friend, "is filled up with building,
gardening, cobbling, doctoring, tinkering, carpentering, gun-mending,
farriering, preaching, schooling, teaching, and lecturing, while my
wife, in addition to her usual work, makes clothes, soap, and candles,
and teaches classes of children."
Gradually it dawned upon Livingstone that a great work awaited him in
the interior, but it was a work which he must face alone. "I must not
be a more sorry soldier than those who serve an earthly sovereign," he
wrote to the Directors of the Mission, to whose care he commended his
family. "And so powerfully am I convinced it is the will of God, that I
will go, no matter who opposes."
Therefore in 1852, having seen his wife and children off to England, he
started in his Cape waggon and again made for Kuruman, after leaving
which he was constantly harassed by parties of Boers, who believed he
was teaching their slaves to rise in revolt. But he reached the land of
Sebituan, a friendly chief, safely, and found the warmest welcome
awaiting him. As doctor and missionary his hands were full, and seeing
the field of work opening all around him, he grew more and more anxious
to become the pioneer missioner to the very interior. Fever, he
realised, would be his worst enemy. "I would like," he wrote in his
journal, "to discover some remedy for that terrible disease. I must go
to parts where it prevails most and try to discover if the natives have
a remedy for it.... I mean to open up a path to the interior or perish.
I never have had the shadow of a doubt. Cannot the love of Christ carry
the missionary where the slave trade carries the trader?"
The travels of Livingstone through that unknown country which he
practically discovered, would have to be closely followed on a map from
point to point to be made clear. Otherwise they are a mere string of
strange names. He set out in the November of 1853. "I had three muskets
for my people and a double-barrelled gun for myself," he said. "My
ammunition was distributed through the luggage, that we might not be
left without a supply. Our chief hopes for food were in our guns. I
carried twenty pounds of beads, a few pounds of tea, sugar, and coffee.
One tin canister was filled with spare clothes, another was stored with
medicines, a third with books, and a fourth with a magic lantern. A
small tent, a sheep-skin, and a horse-rug completed my equipment, as an
array of baggage would have excited the tribes." Four years later, worn
out by frequent attacks of fever, but otherwise perfectly satisfied with
the result of his journeyings into parts where as yet no other
Englishman had penetrated, Livingstone sailed for England, having heard
nothing of his family for three years. He at once became the hero of
the hour; dinners were given, speeches were made in his honour, and he
was asked to equip and command a government expedition for the
exploration of that part of South-Eastern Africa through which the river
Zambesi flows. After some consideration he decided to undertake this,
though it meant that from henceforth he would cease to be a missionary
pure and simple. But he looked at the question in its broadest aspect.
"Wherever I go," he said, "I go as the servant of God, following the
leadings of His Hand. My ideal of a missionary is not that of a dumpy
man with a Bible under his arm. I feel I am not my own. I am serving
Christ in labouring as well as in preaching, and having by His help got
information which I hope will bring blessing to Africa, am I to hide the
light under a bushel, because some will not consider it sufficiently or
even at all missionary? I refrain from taking any salary from
Missionary Societies, so no loss is sustained by any one."