LIVINGSTONE AND STANLEY.
A.D. 1871-1872.
Mr. Gordon Bennett sends Stanley in search of Livingstone--Stanley at
Zanzibar--Starts for Ujiji--Reaches Unyanyembe--Dangerous illness--War
between Arabs and natives--Narrow escape of Stanley--Approach to
Ujiji--Meeting with Livingstone--Livingstone's story--Stanley's
news--Livingstone's goods and men at Bagamoio--Stanley's accounts of
Livingstone--Refutation of foolish and calumnious charges--They go to
the north of the lake--Livingstone resolves not to go home, but to get
fresh men and return to the sources--Letter to Agnes--to Sir Thomas
Maclear--The travelers go to Unyanyembe--More plundering of
stores--Stanley leaves for Zanzibar--Stanley's bitterness of heart at
parting--Livingstone's intense gratitude to Stanley--He intrusts his
Journal to him, and commissions him to send servants and stores from
Zanzibar--Stanley's journey to the coast--Finds Search Expedition at
Bagamoio--Proceeds to England--Stanley's reception--Unpleasant
feelings--Éclaircissement--England grateful to Stanley.
The meeting of Stanley and Livingstone at Ujiji was as unlikely an
occurrence as could have happened, and, along with many of the earlier
events in Livingstone's life, serves to show how wonderfully an Unseen
Hand shaped and guarded his path. Neither Stanley nor the gentleman who
sent him had any personal interest in Livingstone. Mr. Bennett admitted
frankly that he was moved neither by friendship nor philanthropy, but by
regard to his business and interest as a journalist. The object of a
journal was to furnish its readers with the news which they desired to
know; the readers of the _New York Herald_ desired to know about
Livingstone; as a journalist, it was his business to find out and tell
them. Mr. Bennett determined that, cost what it might, he would find
out, and give the news to his readers. These were the very unromantic
notions, with an under-current probably of better quality, that were
passing through his mind at Paris, on the 16th October, 1869, when he
sent a telegram to Madrid, summoning Henry M. Stanley, one of the "own
correspondents" of his paper, to "come to Paris on important business."
On his arrival, Mr. Bennett asked him bluntly, "Where do you think
Livingstone is?" The correspondent could not tell--could not even tell
whether he was alive. "Well," said Mr. Bennett, "I think he is alive,
and that he may be found, and I am going to send you to find him." Mr.
Stanley was to have whatever money should be found necessary; only he
was to find Livingstone. It is very mysterious that he was not to go
straight to Africa--he was to visit Constantinople, Palestine, and Egypt
first. Then, from India, he was to go to Zanzibar; get into the
interior, and find him if alive; obtain all possible news of his
discoveries; and if he were dead, get the fact fully verified, find out
the place of his burial, and try to obtain possession of his bones, that
they might find a resting-place at home.
It was not till January, 1871, that Stanley reached Zanzibar. To
organize an expedition into the interior was no easy task for one who
had never before set foot in Africa. To lay all his plans without
divulging his object would, perhaps, have been more difficult if it had
ever entered into any man's head to connect the _New York Herald_ with a
search for Livingstone. But indomitable vigor and perseverance
succeeded, and by the end of February and beginning of March, one
hundred and ninety-two persons in all had started in five caravans at
short intervals from Bagamoio for Lake Tanganyika, two white men being
of the party besides Stanley, with horses, donkeys, bales, boats, boxes,
rifles, etc., to an amount that made the leader of the expedition ask
himself how such an enormous weight of material could ever be carried
into the heart of Africa.
The ordinary and extraordinary risks and troubles of travel in these
parts fell to Mr. Stanley's lot in unstinted abundance. But when
Unyanyembe was reached, the half-way station to Ujiji, troubles more
than extraordinary befell. First, a terrible attack of fever that
deprived him of his senses for a fortnight. Then came a worse trouble.
The Arabs were at war with a chief Mirambo, and Stanley and his men,
believing they would help to restore peace more speedily, sided with the
Arabs. At first they were apparently victorious, but immediately after,
part of the Arabs were attacked on their way home by Mirambo, who lay in
ambush for them, and were defeated. Great consternation prevailed. The
Arabs retreated in panic, leaving Stanley, who was ill, to the tender
mercies of the foe. Stanley, however, managed to escape. After this
experience of the Arabs in war, he resolved to discontinue his alliance
with them. As the usual way to Ujiji was blocked, he determined to try a
route more to the south. But his people had forsaken him. One of his two
English companions was dead, the other was sick and had to be sent back.
Mirambo was still threatening. It was not till the 20th September that
new men were engaged by Stanley, and his party were ready to move.
They marched slowly, with various adventures and difficulties, until, by
Mr. Stanley's reckoning, on the 10th November (but by Livingstone's
earlier), they were close on Ujiji. Their approach created an
extraordinary excitement. First one voice saluted them in English, then
another; these were the salutations of Livingstone's servants, Susi and
Chuma. By and by the Doctor himself appeared. "As I advanced slowly
toward him," says Mr. Stanley, "I noticed he was pale, looked wearied,
had a gray beard, wore a bluish cap with a faded gold band round 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 the presence of 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 cap slightly. I replace my hat 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 that I am here to welcome you.'"
The conversation began--but Stanley could not remember what it was. "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 bore, 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 truth. 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 on this day in 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
notebook 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."
And Stanley, too, had wonderful things to tell the Doctor. "The news,"
says Livingstone, "he had to tell one who had been two full years
without any tidings from Europe made my whole frame thrill. The
terrible fate that had befallen France, the telegraphic cables
successfully laid in the Atlantic, the election of General Grant, the
death of good Lord Clarendon, my constant friend; the proof that Her
Majesty's Government had not forgotten me in voting £1000 for supplies,
and many other points of interest, revived emotions that had lain
dormant in Manyuema." As Stanley went on, Livingstone kept saying, "You
have brought me new life--you have brought me new life."
There was one piece of news brought by Stanley to Livingstone that was
far from satisfactory. At Bagamoio, on the coast, Stanley had found a
caravan with supplies for Livingstone that had been despatched from
Zanzibar three or four months before, the men in charge of which had
been lying idle there all that time on the pretext that they were
waiting for carriers. A letter-bag was also lying at Bagamoio, although
several caravans for Ujiji had left in the meantime. On hearing that the
Consul at Zanzibar, Dr. Kirk, was coming to the neighborhood to hunt,
the party at last made off. Overtaking them at Unyanyembe, Stanley took
charge of Livingstone's stores, but was not able to bring them on; only
he compelled the letter-carrier to come on to Ujiji with his bag. At
what time, but for Stanley, Livingstone would have got his letters,
which after all were a year on the way, he could not have told. For his
stores, or such fragments of them as might remain, he had afterward to
trudge all the way to Unyanyembe. His letters conveyed the news that
Government had voted a thousand pounds for his relief, and were besides
to pay him a salary[74]. The unpleasant feeling he had had so long as to
his treatment by Government was thus at last somewhat relieved. But the
goods that had lain in neglect at Bagamoio, and were now out of reach at
Unyanyembe, represented one-half the Government grant, and would
probably be squandered, like his other goods, before he could
reach them.
[Footnote 74: The intimation of salary was premature. Livingstone got a
pension of £800 afterward, which lasted only for a year and a half.]
The impression made on Stanley by Livingstone was remarkably vivid; and
the portrait drawn by the American will be recognized as genuine by
every one who knows what manner of man Livingstone was:
"I defy any one to be in his society long without thoroughly
fathoming him, for in him there is no guile, and what is
apparent on the surface is the thing that is in him.... Dr.
Livingstone is about sixty years old, though after he was
restored to health he looked like a man who had not passed
his fiftieth year. His hair has a brownish color yet, but is
here and there streaked with gray lines over the temples; his
beard and moustaches are very gray. His eyes, which are
hazel, are remarkably bright; he has a sight keen as a
hawk's. His teeth alone indicate the weakness of age; the
hard fare of Lunda has made havoc in their lines. His form,
which soon assumed a stoutish appearance, is a little over
the ordinary height, with the slightest possible bow in the
shoulders. When walking he has a firm but heavy tread, like
that of an overworked or fatigued man. He is accustomed to
wear a naval cap with a semicircular peak, by which he has
been identified throughout Africa. His dress, when first I
saw him, exhibited traces of patching and repairing, but was
scrupulously clean.
"I was led to believe that Livingstone possessed a splenetic,
misanthropic temper; some have said that he is garrulous;
that he is demented; that he is utterly changed from the
David Livingstone whom people knew as the reverend
missionary; that he takes no notes or observations but such
as those which no other person could read but himself, and it
was reported, before I proceeded to Africa, that he was
married to an African princess.
"I respectfully beg to differ with all and each of the above
statements. I grant he is not an angel; but he approaches to
that being as near as the nature of a living man will allow.
I never saw any spleen or misanthropy in him: as for being
garrulous, Dr. Livingstone is quite the reverse; he is
reserved, if anything; and to the man who says Dr.
Livingstone is changed, all I can say is, that he never could
have known him, for it is notorious that the Doctor has a
fund of quiet humor, which he exhibits at all times when he
is among friends." [After repudiating the charge as to his
notes, and observations, Mr. Stanley continues:] "As to the
report of his African marriage, it is unnecessary to say more
than that it is untrue, and it is utterly beneath a gentleman
even to hint at such a thing in connection with the name of
Dr. Livingstone.
"You may take any point in Dr. Livingstone's character, and
analyze it carefully, and I would challenge any man to find a
fault in it.... His gentleness never forsakes him; his
hopefulness never deserts him. No harassing anxieties,
distraction of mind, long separation from home and kindred,
can make him complain. He thinks 'all will come out right at
last'; he has such faith in the goodness of Providence. The
sport of adverse circumstances, the plaything of the
miserable beings sent to him from Zanzibar--he has been
baffled and worried, even almost to the grave, yet he will
not desert the charge imposed upon him by his friend Sir
Roderick Murchison. To the stern dictates of duty, alone, has
he sacrificed his home and ease, the pleasures, refinements,
and luxuries of civilized life. His is the Spartan heroism,
the inflexibility of the Roman, the enduring resolution of
the Anglo-Saxon--never to relinquish his work, though his
heart yearns for home; never to surrender his obligations
until he can write FINIS to his work.
"There is a good-natured _abandon_ about Livingstone which
was not lost on me. Whenever he began to laugh, there was a
contagion about it that compelled me to imitate him. It was
such a laugh as Teufelsdröckh's--a laugh of the whole man
from head to heel. If he told a story, he related it in such
a way as to convince one of its truthfulness; his face was so
lit up by the sly fun it contained, that I was sure the story
was worth relating, and worth listening to.
"Another thing that especially attracted my attention was his
wonderfully retentive memory. If we remember the many years
he has spent in Africa, deprived of books, we may well think
it an uncommon memory that can recite whole poems from Byron,
Burns, Tennyson, Longfellow, Whittier, and Lowell....
"His religion is not of the theoretical kind, but it is a
constant, earnest, sincere practice. It is neither
demonstrative nor loud, but manifests itself in a quiet,
practical way, and is always at work. It is not aggressive,
which sometimes is troublesome if not impertinent. In him
religion exhibits its loveliest features; it governs his
conduct not only toward his servants but toward the natives,
the bigoted Mohammedans, and all who come in contact with
him. Without it, Livingstone, with his ardent temperament,
his enthusiasm, his high spirit and courage, must have become
uncompanionable, and a hard master. Religion has tamed him
and made him a Christian gentleman; the crude and willful
have been refined and subdued; religion has made him the most
companionable of men and indulgent of masters--a man whose
society is pleasurable to a degree....
"From being thwarted and hated in every possible way by the
Arabs and half-castes upon his first arrival at Ujiji, he
has, through his uniform kindness and mild, pleasant temper,
won all hearts. I observed that universal respect was paid to
him. Even the Mohammedans never passed his house without
calling to pay their compliments, and to say, 'The blessing
of God rest on you!' Each Sunday morning he gathers his
little flock around him, and reads prayers and a chapter from
the Bible, in a natural, unaffected, and sincere tone; and
afterward delivers a short address in the Kisawahili
language, about the subject read to them, which is listened
to with evident interest and attention."
It was agreed that the two travelers should make a short excursion to
the north end of Lake Tanganyika, to ascertain whether the lake had an
outlet there. This was done, but it was found that instead of flowing
out, the river Lugizé flowed into the lake, so that the notion that the
lake discharged itself northward turned out to be an error. Meanwhile,
the future arrangements of Dr. Livingstone were matter of anxious
consideration. One thing was fixed and certain from the beginning:
Livingstone would not go home with Stanley. Much though his heart
yearned for home and family--all the more that he had just learned that
his son Thomas had had a dangerous accident,--and much though he needed
to recruit his strength and nurse his ailments, he would not think of it
while his work remained unfinished. To turn back to those dreary
sponges, sleep in those flooded plains, encounter anew that terrible
pneumonia which was "worse than ten fevers," or that distressing
hæmorrhage which added extreme weakness to extreme agony--might have
turned any heart; Livingstone never flinched from it. What a reception
awaited him if he had gone home to England! What welcome from friends
and children, what triumphal cheers from all the great Societies and
_savants_, what honors from all who had honors to confer, what
opportunity of renewing efforts to establish missions and commerce, and
to suppress the slave traffic! Then he might return to Africa in a year,
and finish his work. If Livingstone had taken this course, no whisper
would have been heard against it. The nobility of his soul never rose
higher, his utter abandonment of self, his entire devotion to duty, his
right honorable determination to work while it was called to-day never
shone more brightly than when he declined all Stanley's entreaties to
return home, and set his face steadfastly to go back to the bogs of the
watershed. He writes in his journal: "My daughter Agnes says, 'Much as I
wish you to come home, I had rather that you finished your work to your
own satisfaction, than return merely to gratify me.' Rightly and nobly
said, my darling Nannie; vanity whispers pretty loudly, 'She is a chip
of the old block,' My blessing on her and all the rest."
After careful consideration of various plans, it was agreed that he
should go to Unyanyembe, accompanied by Stanley, who would supply him
there with abundance of goods, and who would then hurry down to the
coast, organize a new expedition composed of fifty or sixty faithful men
to be sent on to Unyanyembe, by whom Livingstone would be accompanied
back to Bangweolo and the sources, and then to Rua, until his work
should be completed, and he might go home in peace.
A few extracts from Livingstone's letters will show us how he felt at
this remarkable crisis. To Agnes:
"_Tanganyika_, 18_th November_, 1871--[After detailing his
troubles in Manyuema, the loss of all his goods at Ujiji, and
the generous offer of Syed bin Majid, he continues:] "Next I
heard of an Englishman being at Unyamyembe with boats, etc.,
but who he was, none could tell. At last, one of my people
came running out of breath and shouted, 'An Englishman
coming!' and off he darted back again to meet him. An
American flag at the head of a large caravan showed the
nationality of the stranger. Baths, tents, saddles, big
kettles, showed that he was not a poor Lazarus like me. He
turned out to be Henry M. Stanley, traveling correspondent of
the _New York Herald_, sent specially to find out if I were
really alive, and, if dead, to bring home my bones. He had
brought abundance of goods at great expense, but the fighting
referred to delayed him, and he had to leave a great part at
Unyamyembe. To all he had I was made free. [In a later
letter, Livingstone says; 'He laid all he had at my service,
divided his clothes into two heaps, and pressed one heap upon
me; then his medicine-chest; then his goods and everything he
had, and to coax my appetite, often cooked dainty dishes with
his own hand.'] He came with the true American characteristic
generosity. The tears often started into my eyes on every
fresh proof of kindness. My appetite returned, and I ate
three or four times a day, instead of scanty meals morning
and evening. I soon felt strong, and never wearied with the
strange news of Europe and America he told. The tumble down
of the French Empire was like a dream...."
A long letter to his friend Sir Thomas Maclear and Mr. Mann, of the same
date, goes over his travels in Manyuema, his many disasters, and then
his wonderful meeting with Mr. Stanley at Ujiji. Speaking of the
unwillingness of the natives to believe in the true purpose of his
journey, he says: "They all treat me with respect, and are very much
afraid of being written against; but they consider the sources of the
Nile to be a sham; the true object of my being sent is to see their
odious system of slaving, and _if indeed my disclosures should lead to
the suppression of the East Coast slave-trade, I would esteem that as a
far greater feat than the discovery of all the sources together_. It is
awful, but I cannot speak of the slaving for fear of appearing guilty of
exaggerating. It is not trading; it is murdering for captives to be made
into slaves." His account of himself in the journey from Nyangwe is
dreadful: "I was near a fourth lake on this central line, and only
eighty miles from Lake Lincoln on our west, in fact almost in sight of
the geographical end of my mission, when I was forced to return [through
the misconduct of his men] between 400 and 500 miles. A sore heart, made
still sorer by the sad scenes I had seen of man's inhumanity to man,
made this march a terrible tramp--the sun vertical, and the sore heat
reacting on the physical frame. I was in pain nearly every step of the
way, and arrived a mere ruckle of bones to find myself destitute." In
speaking of the impression made by Mr. Stanley's kindness: "I am as cold
and non-demonstrative as we islanders are reputed to be, but this
kindness was overwhelming. Here was the good Samaritan and no mistake.
Never was I more hard pressed; never was help more welcome."
During thirteen months Stanley received no fewer than ten parcels of
letters and papers sent up by Mr. Webb, American Consul at Zanzibar,
while Livingstone received but one. This was an additional ground for
faith in the efficiency of Stanley's arrangements.
The journey to Unyanyembe was somewhat delayed by an attack of fever
which Stanley had at Ujiji, and it was not till the 27th December that
the travelers set out. On the way Stanley heard of the death of his
English attendant Shaw, whom he had left unwell. On the 18th of
February, 1872, they reached Unyanyembe, where a new chapter of the old
history unfolded itself. The survivor of two head-men employed by Ludha
Damji had been plundering Livingstone's stores, and had broken open the
lock of Mr. Stanley's store-room and plundered him likewise.
Notwithstanding, Mr. Stanley was able to give Livingstone a large amount
of calico, beads, brass wire, copper sheets, a tent, boat, bath,
cooking-pots, medicine-chest, tools, books, paper, medicines,
cartridges, and shot. This, with four flannel shirts that had come from
Agnes, and two pairs of boots, gave him the feeling of being quite
set up.
On the 14th of March Mr. Stanley left Livingstone for Zanzibar, having
received from him a commission to send him up fifty trusty men, and some
additional stores. Mr. Stanley had authority to draw from Dr. Kirk the
remaining half of the Government grant, but lest it should have been
expended, he was furnished with a cheque for 5000 rupees on Dr.
Livingstone's agents at Bombay. He was likewise intrusted with a large
folio MS.* volume containing his journals from his arrival at Zanzibar,
28th January, 1866, to February 20, 1872, written out with all his
characteristic care and beauty. Another instruction had been laid upon
him. If he should find another set of slaves on the way to him, he was
to send them back, for Livingstone would on no account expose himself
anew to the misery, risk, and disappointment he had experienced from the
kind of men that had compelled him to turn back at Nyangwe.
Dr. Livingstone's last act before Mr. Stanley left him was to write his
letters--twenty for Great Britain, six for Bombay, two for New York, and
one for Zanzibar. The two for New York were for Mr. Bennett of the _New
York Herald_, by whom Stanley had been sent to Africa.
Mr. Stanley has freely unfolded to us the bitterness of his heart in
parting from Livingstone. "My days seem to have been spent in an Elysian
field; otherwise, why should I so keenly regret the near approach of the
parting hour? Have I not been battered by successive fevers, prostrate
with agony day after day lately? Have I not raved and stormed in
madness? Have I not clenched my fists in fury, and fought with the wild
strength of despair when in delirium? Yet, I regret to surrender the
pleasure I have felt in this man's society, though so dearly
purchased.... _March 14th._--We had a sad breakfast together. I could
not eat, my heart was too full; neither did my companion seem to have an
appetite. We found something to do which kept us longer together. At
eight o'clock I was not gone, and I had thought to have been off at five
A.M.... We walked side by side; the men lifted their voices in a song. I
took long looks at Livingstone, to impress his features thoroughly on my
memory.... 'Now, my dear Doctor, the best friends must part. You have
come far enough; let me beg of you to turn back.' 'Well,' Livingstone
replied, 'I will say this to you: You have done what few men could
do,--far better than some great travelers I know. And I am grateful to
you for what you have done for me. God guide you safe home, and bless
you, my friend,'--'And may God bring you safe back to us all, my dear
friend. Farewell!'--'Farewell!"... My friendly reader, I wrote the above
extracts in my Diary on the evening of each day. I look at them now
after six months have passed away; yet I am not ashamed of them; my eyes
feel somewhat dimmed at the recollection of the parting. I dared not
erase, nor modify what I had penned, while my feelings were strong. God
grant that if ever you take to traveling in Africa you will get as noble
and true a man for your companion as David Livingstone! For four months
and four days I lived with him in the same house, or in the same boat,
or in the same tent, and I never found a fault in him. I am a man of a
quick temper, and often without sufficient cause, I daresay, have broken
the ties of friendship; but with Livingstone I never had cause for
resentment, but each day's life with him added to my admiration
for him."
If Stanley's feeling for Livingstone was thus at the warmest
temperature, Livingstone's sense of the service done to him by Stanley
was equally unqualified. Whatever else he might be or might not be, he
had proved a true friend to him. He had risked his life in the attempt
to reach him, had been delighted to share with him every comfort he
possessed, and to leave with him ample stores of all that might be
useful to him in his effort to finish his work. Whoever may have been to
blame for it, it is certain that Livingstone had been afflicted for
years, and latterly worried almost to death, by the inefficency and
worthlessness of the men sent to serve him. In Stanley he found one whom
he could trust implicitly to do everything that zeal and energy could
contrive in order to find him efficient men and otherwise carry out his
plans. It was Stanley therefore whom he commissioned to send him up men
from Zanzibar. It was Stanley to whom he intrusted his Journal and other
documents. Stanley had been his confidental friend for four months--the
only white man to whom he talked for six years. It was matter of life
and death to Livingstone to be supplied for this concluding piece of
work far better than he had been for years back. What man in his senses
would have failed in these circumstances to avail himself to the utmost
of the services of one who had shown himself so efficient; would have
put him aside to fall back on others, albeit his own countrymen, who,
with all their good-will, had not been able to save him from robbery,
beggary, and a half-broken heart.
Stanley's journey from Unyanyembe to Bagamoio was a perpetual struggle
against hostile natives, flooded roads, slush, mire, and water, roaring
torrents, ants and mosquitos, or, as he described it, the ten plagues of
Egypt. On his reaching Bagamoio, on the 6th May, he found a new
surprise. A white man dressed in flannels and helmet appeared, and as he
met Stanley congratulated him on his splendid success. It was Lieutenant
Henn, R.N., a member of the Search Expedition which the Royal
Geographical Society and others had sent out to look for Livingstone.
The resolution to organize such an Expedition was taken after news had
come to England of the war between the Arabs and the natives at
Unyanyembe, stopping the communication with Ujiji, and rendering it
impossible, as it was thought, for Mr. Stanley to get to Livingstone's
relief. The Expedition had been placed under command of Lieutenant
Dawson, R.N., with Lieutenant Henn as second, and was joined by the Rev.
Charles New, a Missionary from Mombasa, and Mr. W. Oswell Livingstone,
youngest son of the Doctor. Stanley's arrival at Bagamoio had been
preceded by that of some of his men, who brought the news that
Livingstone had been found and relieved. On hearing this, Lieutenant
Dawson hurried to Zanzibar to see Dr. Kirk, and resigned his command.
Lieutenant Henn soon after followed his example by resigning too. They
thought that as Dr. Livingstone had been relieved there was no need for
their going on. Mr. New likewise declined, to proceed. Mr. W. Oswell
Livingstone was thus left alone, at first full of the determination to
go on to his father with the men whom Stanley was providing; but owing
to the state of his health, and under the advice of Dr. Kirk, he, too,
declined to accompany the Expedition, so that the men from Zanzibar
proceeded to Unyanyembe alone.
On the 29th of May, Stanley, with Messrs. Henn, Livingstone, New, and
Morgan, departed in the "Africa" from Zanzibar, and in due time
reached Europe.
It was deeply to be regretted that an enterprise so beautiful and so
entirely successful as Mr. Stanley's should have been in some degree
marred by ebullitions of feeling little in harmony with the very joyous
event. The leaders of the English Search Expedition and their friends
felt, as they expressed it, that the wind had been taken out of their
sails. They could not but rejoice that Livingstone had been found and
relieved, but it was a bitter thought that they had had no hand in the
process. It was galling to their feelings as Englishmen that the
brilliant service had been done by a stranger, a newspaper
correspondent, a citizen of another country. On a small scale that
spirit of national jealousy showed itself, which on a wider arena has
sometimes endangered the relations of England and America.
When Stanley reached England, it was not to be overwhelmed with
gratitude. At first the Royal Geographical Society received him coldly.
Instead of his finding Livingstone, it was surmised that Livingstone had
found him. Strange things were said of him at the British Association at
Brighton. The daily press actually challenged his truthfulness; some of
the newspapers affected to treat his whole story as a myth. Stanley says
frankly that this reception gave a tone of bitterness to his book--_How
I Found Livingstone_--which it would not have had if he had understood
the real state of things. But the heart of the nation was sound; the
people believed in Stanley, and appreciated his service. At last the
mists cleared away, and England acknowledged its debt to the American.
The Geographical Society gave him the right hand of fellowship "with a
warmth and generosity never to be forgotten." The President apologized
for the words of suspicion he had previously used. Her Majesty the Queen
presented Stanley with a special token of her regard. Unhappily, in the
earlier stages of the affair, wounds had been inflicted which are not
likely ever to be wholly healed. Words were spoken on both sides which
cannot be recalled. But the great fact remains, and will be written on
the page of history, that Stanley did a noble service to Livingstone,
earning thereby the gratitude of England and of the civilized world.