at Rio, nor on board ship, nor anywhere, could good be done without the element of personal character. This was Livingstone’s strong conviction to the end of his life.
In his first letter to the Directors of the London Missionary Society he tells them that he had spent most of his time at sea in the study of theology, and that he was deeply grieved to say that he knew of no spiritual good having been done in the case of any one on board the ship. His characteristic honesty thus showed itself in his very first dispatch.
Arriving at the Cape, where the ship was detained a month, he spent some time with Dr. Philip, then acting as agent for the Society, with informal powers as superintendent. Dr. Philip was desirous of returning home for a time, and very anxious to find some one to take his place as minister of the congregation of Cape Town, in his absence. This office was offered to Livingstone, who rejected it with no little emphasis–not for a moment would he think of it, nor would he preach the gospel within any other man’s line. He had not been long at the Cape when he found to his surprise and sorrow that the missionaries were not all at one, either as to the general policy of the mission, or in the matter of social intercourse and confidence. The shock was a severe one; it was not lessened by what he came to know of the spirit and life of a few–happily only a few–of his brethren afterward; and undoubtedly it had an influence on his future life. It showed him that there were missionaries whose profession was not supported by a life of consistent well-doing, although it did not shake his confidence in the character and the work of missionaries on the whole. He saw that in the mission there was what might be called a colonial side and a native side; some sympathizing with the colonists and some with the natives. He had no difficulty in making up his mind between them; he drew instinctively to the party that were for protecting the natives against the unrighteous encroachments of the settlers.
On leaving the ship at Algoa Bay, he proceeded by land to Kuruman or Lattakoo, in the Bechuana country, the most northerly station of the Society in South Africa, and the usual residence of Mr. Moffat, who was still absent in England. In this his first African journey the germ of the future traveler was apparent. “Crossing the Orange River,” he says, “I got my vehicle aground, and my oxen got out of order, some with their heads where their tails should be, and others with their heads twisted round in the yoke so far that they appeared bent on committing suicide, or overturning the wagon…. I like travelling very much indeed. There is so much freedom connected with our African manners. We pitch our tent, make our fire, etc., wherever we choose, walk, ride, or shoot at abundance of all sorts of game as our inclination leads us; but there is a great drawback: we can’t study or read when we please. I feel this very much. I have made but very little progress in the language (can speak a little Dutch), but I long for the time when I shall give my undivided attention to it, and then be furnished with the means of making known the truth of the gospel.” While at the Cape, Livingstone had heard something of a fresh-water lake (‘Ngami) which all the missionaries were eager to see. If only they would give him a month or two to learn the colloquial language, he said they might spare themselves the pains of being “the first in at the death.” It is interesting to remark further that, in this first journey, science had begun to receive its share of attention. He is already bent on making a collection for the use of Professor Owen[19], and is enthusiastic in describing some agatized trees and other curiosities which he met with.
[Footnote 19: This collection never reached its destination.]
Writing to his parents from Port Elizabeth, 19th May, 1841, he gives his first impressions of Africa. He had been at a station called Hankey:
“The scenery was very fine. The white sand in some places near the beach drifted up in large wreaths exactly like snow. One might imagine himself in Scotland were there not a hot sun overhead. The woods present an aspect of strangeness, for everywhere the eye meets the foreign-looking tree from which the bitter aloes is extracted, popping up its head among the mimosa bushes and stunted acacias. Beautiful humming-birds fly about in great numbers, sucking the nectar from the flowers, which are in great abundance and very beautiful. I was much pleased with my visit to Hankey…. The state of the people presents so many features of interest, that one may talk about it and convey some idea of what the Gospel has done. The full extent of the benefit received can, however, be understood only by those who witness it in contrast with other places that have not been so highly favored. My expectations have been far exceeded. Everything I witnessed surpassed my hopes, and if this one station is a fair sample of the whole, the statements of the missionaries with regard to their success are far within the mark. The Hottentots of Hankey appear to be in a state similar to that of our forefathers in the days immediately preceding the times of the Covenanters. They have a prayer-meeting every morning at four o’clock, _and well attended_. They began it during a visitation of measles among them, and liked it so much that they still continue.”
He goes on to say that as the natives had no clocks or watches, mistakes sometimes occurred about ringing the bell for this meeting, and sometimes the people found themselves assembled at twelve or one o’clock instead of four. The welcome to the missionaries (their own missionary was returning from the Cape with Livingstone) was wonderful. Muskets were fired at their approach, then big guns; and then men, women, and children rushed at the top of their speed to shake hands and welcome them. The missionary had lost a little boy, and out of respect each of the people had something black on his head. Both public worship and family worship were very interesting, the singing of hymns being very beautiful. The bearing of these Christianized Hottentots was in complete contrast to that of a Dutch family whom he visited as a medical man one Sunday. There was no Sunday; the man’s wife and daughters were dancing before the house, while a black played the fiddle.
His instructions from the Directors were to go to Kuruman, remain there till Mr. Moffat should return from England, and turn his attention to the formation of a new station farther north, awaiting more specific instructions, He arrived at Kuruman on the 31st July, 1841, but no instructions had come from the Directors; his sphere of work was quite undetermined, and he began to entertain the idea of going to Abyssinia. There could be no doubt that a Christian missionary was needed there, for the country had none; but if he should go, he felt that probably he would never return. In writing of this to his friend Watt, he used words almost prophetic: “Whatever way my life may be spent so as but to promote the glory of our gracious God, I feel anxious to do it…. _My life, may be spent as profitably as a pioneer as in any other way_.”
In his next letter to the London Missionary Society, dated Kuruman, 23d September, 1841, he gives his impressions of the field, and unfolds an idea which took hold of him at the very beginning, and never lost its grip. It was, that there was not population enough about the South to justify a concentration of missionary labor there, and that the policy of the Society ought to be one of expansion, moving out far and wide wherever there was an opening, and making the utmost possible use of native agency, in order to cultivate so wide a field. In England he had thought that Kuruman might be made a great missionary institute, whence the beams of divine truth might diverge in every direction, through native agents supplied from among the converts; but since he came to the spot he had been obliged to abandon that notion; not that the Kuruman mission had not been successful, or that the attendance at public worship was small, but simply because the population was meagre, and seemed more likely to become smaller than larger. The field from which native agents might be drawn was thus too small. Farther north there was a denser population. It was therefore his purpose, along with a brother missionary, to make an early journey to the interior, and bury himself among the natives, to learn their language, and slip into their modes of thinking and feeling. He purposed to take with him two of the best qualified native Christians of Kuruman, to plant them as teachers in some promising locality; and in case any difficulty should arise about their maintenance, he offered, with characteristic generosity, to defray the cost of one of them from his own resources.
Accordingly, in company with a brother missionary from Kuruman, a journey of seven hundred miles was performed before the end of the year, leading chiefly to two results: in the first place, a strong confirmation of his views on the subject of native agency; and in the second place, the selection of a station, two hundred and fifty miles north of Kuruman, as the most suitable for missionary operations. Seven hundred miles traveled over _more Africano_ seemed to indicate a vast territory; but on looking at it on the map, it was a mere speck on the continent of heathenism. How was that continent ever to be evangelized? He could think of no method except an extensive method of native agency. And the natives, when qualified, were admirably qualified. Their warm, affectionate manner of dealing with their fellow-men, their ability to present the truth to their minds freed from the strangeness of which foreigners could not divest it, and the eminent success of those employed by the brethren of Griqua Town, were greatly in their favor. Two natives had likewise been employed recently by the Kuruman Mission, and these had been highly efficient and successful. If the Directors would allow him to employ more of these, conversions would increase in a compound ratio, and regions not yet explored by Europeans would soon be supplied with the bread of life.
In regard to the spot selected for a mission, there were many considerations in its favor. In the immediate neighborhood of Kuruman the chiefs hated the gospel, because it deprived them of their supernumerary wives. In the region farther north, this feeling had not yet established itself; on the contrary, there was an impression favorable to Europeans, and a desire for their alliance. These Bechuana tribes had suffered much from the marauding invasions of their neighbors; and recently, the most terrible marauder of the country, Mosilikatse, after being driven westward by the Dutch Boers, had taken up his abode on the banks of a central lake, and resumed his raids, which were keeping the whole country in alarm. The more peaceful tribes had heard of the value of the white man, and of the weapons by which a mere handful of whites had repulsed hordes of marauders. They were therefore disposed to welcome the stranger, although this state of feeling could not be relied on as sure to continue, for Griqua hunters and individuals from tribes hostile to the gospel were moving northward, and not only circulating rumors unfavorable to missionaries, but by their wicked lives introducing diseases previously unknown. If these regions, therefore, were to be taken possession of by the gospel, no time was to be lost. For himself, Livingstone had no hesitation in going to reside in the midst of these savages, hundreds of miles away from civilization, not merely for a visit, but, if necessary, for the whole of his life.
In writing to his sisters after this journey (8th December, 1841), he gives a graphic account of the country, and some interesting notices of the people:
“Janet, I suppose, will feel anxious to know what our dinner was. We boiled a piece of the flesh of a rhinoceros which was toughness itself, the night before. The meat was our supper, and porridge made of Indian corn-meal and gravy of the meat made a very good dinner next day. When about 150 miles from home we came to a large village. The chief had sore eyes; I doctored them, and he fed us pretty well with milk and beans, and sent a fine buck after me as a present. When we had got about ten or twelve miles on the way, a little girl about eleven or twelve years of age came up and sat down under my wagon, having run away for the purpose of coming with us to Kuruman. She had lived with a sister whom she had lately lost by death. Another family took possession of her for the purpose of selling her as soon as she was old enough for a wife. But not liking this, she determined to run away from them and come to some friends near Kuruman. With this intention she came, and thought of walking all the way behind my wagon. I was pleased with the determination of the little creature, and gave her some food. But before we had remained long there, I heard her sobbing violently, as if her heart would break. On looking round, I observed the cause. A man with a gun had been sent after her, and he had just arrived. I did not know well what to do now, but I was not in perplexity long, for Pomare, a native convert who accompanied us, started up and defended her cause. He being the son of a chief, and possessed of some little authority, managed the matter nicely. She had been loaded with beads to render her more attractive, and fetch a higher price. These she stripped off and gave to the man, and desired him to go away. I afterward took measures for hiding her, and though fifty men had come for her, they would not have got her.”
The story reads like an allegory or a prophecy. In the person of the little maid, oppressed and enslaved Africa comes to the good Doctor for protection; instinctively she knows she may trust him; his heart opens at once, his ingenuity contrives a way of protection and deliverance, and he will never give her up. It is a little picture of Livingstone’s life.
In fulfillment of a promise made to the natives in the interior that he would return to them, Livingstone set out on a second tour into the interior of the Bechuana country on 10th February, 1842. His objects were, first, to acquire the native language more perfectly, and second, by suspending his medical practice, which had become inconveniently large at Kuruman, to give his undivided attention to the subject of native agents. He took with him two native members of the Kuruman church, and two other natives for the management of the wagon.
The first person that specially engaged his interest in this journey was a chief of the name of Bubi, whose people were Bakwains. With him he stationed one of the native agents as a teacher, the chief himself collecting the children and supplying them with food. The honesty of the people was shown in their leaving untouched all the contents of his wagon, though crowds of them visited it. Livingstone was already acquiring a powerful influence, both with chiefs and people, the result of his considerate and conciliatory treatment of both. He had already observed the failure of some of his brethren to influence them, and his sagacity had discerned the cause. His success in inducing Bubi’s people to dig a canal was contrasted in a characteristic passage of a private letter, with the experience of others.
“The doctor and the rainmaker among these people are one and the same person. As I did not like to be behind my professional brethren, I declared I could make rain too, not, however, by enchantments like them, but by leading out their river for irrigation. The idea pleased mightily, and to work we went instanter. Even the chief’s own doctor is at it, and works like a good fellow, laughing heartily at the cunning of the ‘foreigner’ who can make rain so. We have only one spade, and this is without a handle; and yet by means of sticks sharpened to a point we have performed all the digging of a pretty long canal. The earth was lifted out in ‘gowpens’ and carried to the huge dam we have built in karosses (skin cloaks), tortoise-shells, or wooden bowls. We intended nothing of the ornamental in it, but when we came to a huge stone, we were forced to search for a way round it. The consequence is, it has assumed a beautifully serpentine appearance. This is, I believe, the first instance in which Bechuanas have been got to work without wages. It was with the utmost difficulty the earlier missionaries got them to do anything. The missionaries solicited their permission to do what they did, and this was the very way to make them show off their airs, for they are so disobliging; if they perceive any one in the least dependent upon them, they immediately begin to tyrannize. A more mean and selfish vice certainly does not exist in the world. I am trying a different plan with them. I make my presence with any of them a favor, and when they show any impudence, I threaten to leave them, and if they don’t amend, I put my threat into execution. By a bold, free course among them I have had not the least difficulty in managing the most fierce. They are in one sense fierce, and in another the greatest cowards in the world. A kick would, I am persuaded, quell the courage of the bravest of them. Add to this the report which many of them verily believe, that I am a great wizard, and you will understand how I can with ease visit any of them. Those who do not love, fear me, and so truly in their eyes am I possessed of supernatural power, some have not hesitated to affirm I am capable of even raising the dead! The people of a village visited by a French brother actually believed it. Their belief of my powers, I suppose, accounts, too, for the fact that I have not missed a single article either from the house or wagon since I came among them, and this, although all my things lay scattered about the room, while crammed with patients.”
It was unfortunate that the teacher whom Livingstone stationed with Bubi’s people was seized with a violent fever, so that he was obliged to bring him away. As for Bubi himself, he was afterward burned to death by an explosion of gunpowder, which one of his sorcerers was trying, by means of burnt roots, to _un_-bewitch.
In advancing, Livingstone had occasion to pass through a part of the great Kalahari desert, and here he met with Sekomi, a chief of the Bamangwato, from whom also he received a most friendly reception. The ignorance of this tribe he found to be exceedingly great:
“Their conceptions of the Deity are of the most vague and contradictory nature, and the name of God conveys no more to their understanding than the idea of superiority. Hence they do not hesitate to apply the name to their chiefs. I was every day shocked by being addressed by that title, and though it as often furnished me with a text from which to tell them of the only true God and Jesus Christ, whom he has sent, yet it deeply pained me, and I never felt so fully convinced of the lamentable detoriation of our species. It is indeed a mournful truth that man has become like the beasts that perish.”
The place was greatly infested by lions, and during Livingstone’s visit an awful occurrence took place that made a great impression on him:
“A woman was actually devoured in her garden during my visit, and that so near the town that I had frequently walked past it. It was most affecting to hear the cries of the orphan children of this woman. During the whole day after her death the surrounding rocks and valleys rang and re-echoed with their bitter cries. I frequently thought as I listened to the loud sobs, painfully indicative of the sorrows of those who have no hope, that if some of our churches could have heard their sad wailings, it would have awakened the firm resolution to do more for the heathen than they have done.”
Poor Sekomi advanced a new theory of regeneration which Livingstone was unable to work out:
“On one occasion Sekomi, having sat by me in the hut for some time in deep thought, at length addressing me by a pompous title said, ‘I wish you would change my heart. Give me medicine to change it, for it is proud, proud and angry, angry always.’ I lifted up the Testament and was about to tell him of the only way in which the heart can be changed, but he interrupted me by saying, ‘Nay, I wish to have it changed by medicine, to drink and have it changed at once, for it is always very proud and very uneasy, and continually angry with some one.’ He then rose and went away.”
A third tribe visited at this time was the Bakaa, and here, too, Livingstone was able to put in force his wonderful powers of management. Shortly before, the Bakaa had murdered a trader and his company. When Livingstone appeared their consciences smote them, and, with the exception of the chief and two attendants, the whole of the people fled from his presence. Nothing could allay their terror, till, a dish of porridge having been prepared, they saw Livingstone partake of it along with themselves without distrust. When they saw him lie down and fall asleep they were quite at their ease. Thereafter he began to speak to them:
“I had more than ordinary pleasure in telling these murderers of the precious blood which cleanseth from all sin. I bless God that He has conferred on one so worthless the distinguished privilege and honor of being the first messenger of mercy that ever trod these regions. Its being also the first occasion on which I had ventured to address a number of Bechuanas in their own tongue without reading it, renders it to myself one of peculiar interest. I felt more freedom than I had anticipated, but I have an immense amount of labor still before me, ere I can call myself a master of Sichuana. This journey discloses to me that when I have acquired the Batlapi, there is another and perhaps more arduous task to be accomplished in the other dialects, but by the Divine assistance I hope I shall be enabled to conquer. When I left the Bakaa, the chief sent his son with a number of his people to see me safe part of the way to the Makalaka.”
On his way home, in passing through Bubi’s country, he was visited by sixteen of the people of Sebehwe, a chief who had successfully withstood Mosilikatse, but whose cowardly neighbors, under the influence of jealousy, had banded together to deprive him of what they had not had the courage to defend. Consequently he had been driven into the sandy desert, and his object in sending to Livingstone was to solicit his advice and protection, as he wished to come out, in order that his people might grow corn, etc. Sebehwe, like many of the other people of the country, had the notion that if he got a single white man to live with him, he would be quite secure. It was no wonder that Livingstone early acquired the strong conviction that if missions could only be scattered over Africa, their immediate effect in promoting the tranquillity of the continent could hardly be over-estimated.
We have given these details somewhat fully, because they show that before he had been a year in the country Livingstone had learned how to rule the Africans. From the very first, his genial address, simple and fearless manner, and transparent kindliness formed a spell which rarely failed. He had great faith in the power of humor. He was never afraid of a man who had a hearty laugh. By a playful way of dealing with the people, he made them feel at ease with him, and afterward he could be solemn enough when the occasion required. His medical knowledge helped him greatly; but for permanent influence all would have been in vain if he had not uniformly observed the rules of justice, good feeling, and good manners. Often ha would say that the true road to influence was patient continuance in well-doing. It is remarkable that, from the very first, he should have seen the charm of that method which he employed so successfully to the end.
In the course of this journey, Livingstone was within ten days of Lake ‘Ngami, the lake of which he had heard at the Cape, and which he actually discovered in 1849; and he might have discovered it now, had discovery alone been his object. Part of his journey was performed on foot, in consequence of the draught oxen having become sick:
“Some of my companions,” he says in his first book, “who had recently joined us, and did not know that I understood a little of their speech, were overheard by me discussing my appearance and powers: ‘He is not strong, he is quite slim, and only appears stout because he puts himself in those bags (trousers); he will soon knock up.’ This caused my Highland blood to rise, and made me despise the fatigue of keeping them all at the top of their speed for days together, and until I heard them expressing proper opinions of my pedestrian powers.”
We have seen how full Livingstone’s heart was of the missionary spirit; how intent he was on making friends of the natives, and how he could already preach in one dialect, and was learning another. But the activity of his mind enabled him to give attention at the same time to other matters. He was already pondering the structure of the great African Continent, and carefully investigating the process of desiccation that had been going on for a long time, and had left much uncomfortable evidence of its activity in many parts. In the desert, he informs his friend Watt that no fewer than thirty-two edible roots and forty-three fruits grew without cultivation. He had the rare faculty of directing his mind at the full stretch of its power to one great object, and yet, apparently without effort, giving minute and most careful attention to many other matters,–all bearing, however, on the same great end.
A very interesting letter to Dr. Risdon Bennett, dated Kuruman, 18th December, 1841, gives an account of his first year’s work from the medical and scientific point of view. First, he gives an amusing picture of the Bechuana chiefs, and then some details of his medical practice:
The people are all under the feudal system of government, the chieftainship is hereditary, and although the chief is usually the greatest ass, and the most insignificant of the tribe in appearance, the people pay a deference to him which is truly astonishing…. I feel the benefit often of your instructions, and of those I got through your kindness. Here I have an immense practice. I have patients now under treatment who have walked 130 miles for my advice; and when these go home, others will come for the same purpose. This is the country for a medical man if he wants a large practice, but he must leave fees out of the question! The Bechuanas have a great deal more disease than I expected to find among a savage nation; but little else can be expected, for they are nearly naked, and endure the scorching heat of the day and the chills of the night in that condition. Add to this that they are absolutely omnivorous. Indigestion, rheumatism, opthalmia are the prevailing diseases…. Many very bad cases were brought to me, sometimes, when traveling, my wagon was quite besieged by their blind and halt and lame. What a mighty effect would be produced if one of the seventy disciples were among them to heal them all by a word! The Bechuanas resort to the Bushmen and the poor people that live in the desert for doctors. The fact of my dealing in that line a little is so strange, and now my fame has spread far and wide. But if one of Christ’s apostles were here, I should think he would be very soon known all over the continent to Abyssinia. The great deal of work I have had to do in attending to the sick has proved beneficial to me, for they make me speak the language perpetually, and if I were inclined to be lazy in learning it, they would prevent me indulging the propensity. And they are excellent patients, too, besides. There is no wincing; everything prescribed is done _instanter_. Their only failing is that they become tired of a long course. But in any operation, even the women sit unmoved. I have been quite astonished again and again at their calmness. In cutting out a tumor, an inch in diameter, they sit and talk as if they felt nothing. ‘A man like me never cries,’ they say, ‘they are children that cry.’ And it is a fact that the men never cry. But when the Spirit of God works on their minds they cry most piteously. Sometimes in church they endeavor to screen themselves from the eyes of the preacher by hiding under the forms or covering their heads with their karosses as a remedy against their convictions. And when they find that won’t do, they rush out of the church and run with all their might, crying as if the hand of death were behind them. One would think, when they got away, there they would remain; but no, there they are in their places at the very next meeting. It is not to be wondered at that they should exhibit agitations of body when the mind is affected, as they are quite unaccustomed to restrain their feelings. But that the hardened beings should be moved mentally at all is wonderful indeed. If you saw them in their savage state you would feel the force of this more…. _N.B._–I have got for Professor Owen specimens of the incubated ostrich in abundance, and am waiting for an opportunity to transmit the box to the college. I tried to keep for you some of the fine birds of the interior, but the weather was so horribly hot they were putrid in a few hours.
When he returned to Kuruman in June, 1842, he found that no instructions had as yet come from the Directors as to his permanent quarters. He was preparing for another journey when news arrived that contrary to his advice, Sebehwe had left the desert where he was encamped, had been treacherously attacked by the chief Mahura, and that many of his people, including women and children, had been savagely murdered. What aggravated the case was that several native Christians from Kuruman had been at the time with Sebehwe, and that these were accused of having acted treacherously by him. But now no native would expose himself to the expected rage of Sebehwe, so that for want of attendants Livingstone could not go to him. He was obliged to remain for some months about Kuruman, itinerating to the neighboring tribes, and taking part in the routine work of the station: that is to say preaching, printing, building a chapel at an out-station, prescribing for the sick, and many things else that would have been intolerable, he said, to a man of “clerical dignity.”
He was able to give his father a very encouraging report of the mission work (July 13, 1842): “The work of God goes on here notwithstanding all our infirmities. Souls are gathered in continually, and sometimes from among those you would never have expected to see turning to the Lord. Twenty-four were added to the Church last month, and there are several inquirers. At Motito, a French station about thirty-three miles northeast of this, there has been an awakening, and I hope much good will result. I have good news, too, from Rio de Janeiro. The Bibles that have been distributed are beginning to cause a stir.”
The state of the country continued so disturbed that it was not till February, 1843, that he was able to set out for the village where Sebehwe had taken up his residence with the remains of his tribe. This visit he undertook at great personal risk. Though looking at first very ill-pleased, Sebehwe treated him in a short time in a most friendly way, and on the Sunday after his arrival, sent a herald to proclaim that on that day nothing should be done but pray to God and listen to the words of the foreigner. He himself listened with great attention while Livingstone told him of Jesus and the resurrection, and the missionary was often interrupted by the questions of the chief. Here, then, was another chief pacified, and brought under the preaching of the gospel.
Livingstone then passed on to the country of the Bakhatla, where he had purposed to erect his mission-station. The country was fertile, and the people industrious, and among other industries was an iron manufactory, to which as a bachelor he got admission, whereas married men were wont to be excluded, through fear that they would bewitch the iron! When he asked the chief if he would like him to come and be his missionary, he held up his hands and said, “Oh, I shall dance if you do; I shall collect all my people to hoe for you a garden, and you will get more sweet reed and corn than myself.” The cautious Directors at home, however, had sent no instructions as to Livingstone’s station, and he could only say to the chief that he would tell them of his desire for a missionary.
At a distance of five days’ journey beyond the Bakhatla was situated the village of Sechele, chief of the Bakwains, afterward one of Livingstone’s greatest friends. Sechele had been enraged at him for not visiting him the year before, and threatened him with mischief. It happened that his only child was ill when the missionary arrived, and also the child of one of his principal men. Livingstone’s treatment of both was successful, and Sechele had not an angry word. Some of his questions struck the heart of the missionary:
“‘Since it is true that all who die unforgiven are lost forever, why did your nation not come to tell us of it before now? My ancestors are all gone, and none of them knew anything of what you tell me. How is this?’ I thought immediately,” says Livingstone, “of the guilt of the Church, but did not confess. I told him multitudes in our own country were like himself, so much in love with their sins. My ancestors had spent a great deal of time in trying to persuade them, and yet after all many of them by refusing were lost. We now wish to tell all the world about a Saviour, and if men did not believe, the guilt would be entirely theirs. Sechele has been driven from another part of his country from that in which he was located last year, and so has Bubi, so that the prospects I had of benefiting them by native teachers are for the present darkened.”
Among other things that Livingstone found time for in these wanderings among strange people, was translating hymns into the Sichuana language. Writing to his father (Bakwain Country, 21st March, 1843), he says:
“Janet may be pleased to learn that I am become a poet, or rather a poetaster, in Sichuana. Half a dozen of my hymns were lately printed in a collection of the French brethren. One of them is a translation of ‘There is a fountain filled with blood;’ another, ‘Jesus shall reign where’er the sun;’ others are on ‘The earth being filled with the glory of the Lord,’ ‘Self-dedication,’ ‘Invitation to Sinners,’ ‘The soul that loves God finds him everywhere.’ Janet may try to make English ones on these latter subjects if she can, and Agnes will doubtless set them to music on the same condition. I do not boast of having done this, but only mention it to let you know that I am getting a little better fitted for the great work of a missionary, that your hearts may be drawn out to more prayer for the success of the gospel proclaimed by my feeble lips.”
Livingstone was bent on advancing in the direction of the country of the Matebele and their chief Mosilikatse, but the dread of that terrible warrior prevented him from getting Bakwains to accompany him, and being thus unable to rig out a wagon, he was obliged to travel on oxback. In a letter to Dr. Risdon Bennett (30th June, 1843), he gives a lively description of this mode of traveling: “It is rough traveling, as you can conceive. The skin is so loose there is no getting one’s great-coat, which has to serve both as saddle and blanket, to stick on; and then the long horns in front, with which he can give one a punch in the abdomen if he likes, make us sit as bolt upright as dragoons. In this manner I traveled more than 400 miles.” Visits to some of the villages of the Bakalahari gave him much pleasure. He was listened to with great attention, and while sitting by their fires and listening to their traditionary tales, he intermingled the story of the Cross with their conversation, and it was by far the happiest portion of his journey. The people were a poor, degraded, enslaved race, who hunted for other tribes to procure them skins; they were far from wells, and had their gardens far from their houses, in order to have their produce safe from the chiefs who visited them.
Coming on to his old friends the Bakaa, he found them out of humor with him, accusing him of having given poison to a native who had been seized with fever on occasion of his former visit. Consequently he could get little or nothing to eat, and had to content himself, as he wrote to his friends, with the sumptuous feasts of his imagination. With his usual habit of discovering good in all his troubles, however, he found cause for thankfulness at their stinginess, for in coming down a steep pass, absorbed with the questions which the people were putting to him, he forgot where he was, lost his footing, and, striking his hand between a rock and his Bible which he was carrying, he suffered a compound fracture of his finger. His involuntary low diet saved him from taking fever, and the finger was healing favorably, when a sudden visit in the middle of the night from a lion, that threw them all into consternation, made him, without thinking, discharge his revolver at the visitor, and the recoil hurt him more than the shot did the lion. It rebroke his finger, and the second fracture was worse than the first. “The Bakwains,” he says, “who were most attentive to my wants during the whole journey of more than 400 miles, tried to comfort me when they saw the blood again flowing, by saying, ‘You have hurt yourself, but you have redeemed us: henceforth we will only swear by you.’ Poor creatures,” he writes to Dr. Bennett, “I wished they had felt gratitude for the blood that was shed for their precious souls.”
Returning to Kuruman from this journey, in June, 1843, Livingstone was delighted to find at length a letter from the Directors of the Society authorizing the formation of a settlement in the regions beyond. He found another letter that greatly cheered him, from a Mrs. M’Robert, the wife of art Independent minister at Cambuslang (near Blantyre), who had collected and now sent him L12 for a native agent, and was willing, on the part of some young friends, to send presents of clothing for the converts. In acknowledging this letter, Livingstone poured out his very heart, so full was he of gratitude and delight. He entreated the givers to consider Mebalwe as their own agent, and to concentrate their prayers upon him, for prayer, he thought, was always more efficacious when it could be said, “One thing have I desired of the Lord.” As to the present of clothing, he simply entreated his friends to send nothing of the kind; such things demoralized the recipients, and bred endless jealousies. If he were allowed to charge something for the clothes, he would be pleased to have them, but on no other terms.
Writing to the Secretary of the Society, Rev. A. Tidman (24th June, 1843), and referring to the past success of the Mission in the nearer localities, he says: “If you could realize this fact as fully as those on the spot can, you would be able to enter into the feelings of irrepressible delight with which I hail the decision of the Directors that we go forward to the dark interior. May the Lord enable me to consecrate my whole being to the glorious work!”
In this communication to the Directors Livingstone modestly, but frankly and firmly, gives them his mind on some points touched on in their letter to him. In regard to his favorite measure–native agency–he is glad that a friend has remitted money for the employment of one agent, and that others have promised the means of employing other two. On another subject he had a communication to make to them which evidently cost him no ordinary effort. In his more private letters to his friends, from an early period after entering Africa, he had expressed himself very freely, almost contemptuously, on the distribution of the laborers. There was far too much clustering about the Cape Colony, and the district immediately beyond it, and a woeful slowness to strike out with the fearless chivalry that became missionaries of the Cross, and take possession of the vast continent beyond. All his letters reveal the chafing of his spirit with this confinement of evangelistic energy in the face of so vast a field–this huddling together of laborers in sparsely peopled districts, instead of sending them forth over the whole of Africa, India, and China, to preach the gospel to every creature. He felt deeply that both the Church at home, and many of the missionaries on the spot, had a poor conception of missionary duty, out of which came little faith, little effort, little expectation, with a miserable tendency to exaggerate their own evils and grievances, and fall into paltry squabbles which would not have been possible if they had been fired with the ambition to win the world for Christ.
But what it was a positive relief for him to whisper in the ear of an intimate friend, it demanded the courage of a hero to proclaim to the Directors of a great Society. It was like impugning their whole policy and arraigning their wisdom. But Livingstone could not say one thing in private and another in public. Frankly and fearlessly he proclaimed his views:
“The conviction to which I refer is that a much larger share of the benevolence of the Church and of missionary exertion is directed into this country than the amount of population, as compared with other countries, and the success attending those efforts, seem to call for. This conviction has been forced upon me, both by a personal inspection, more extensive than that which has fallen to the lot of any other, either missionary or trader, and by the sentiments of other missionaries who have investigated the subject according to their opportunities. In reference to the population, I may mention that I was led in England to believe that the population of the interior was dense, and now since I have come to this country I have conversed with many, both of our Society and of the French, and none of them would reckon up the number of 30,000 Bechuanas.”
He then proceeds to details in a most characteristic way, giving the number of huts in every village, and being careful in every case, as his argument proceeded on there being a small population, rather to overstate than understate the number:
“In view of these facts and the confirmation of them I have received from both French and English brethren, computing the population much below what I have stated, I confess I feel grieved to hear of the arrival of new missionaries. Nor am I the only one who deplores their appointment to this country. Again and again have I been pained at heart to hear the question put, Where will these new brethren find fields of labor in this country? Because I know that in India or China there are fields large enough for all their energies. I am very far from undervaluing the success which has attended the labors of missionaries in this land. No! I gratefully acknowledge the wonders God hath wrought, and I feel that the salvation of one soul is of more value than all the effort that has been expended; but we are to seek the field where there is a possibility that most souls will be converted, and it is this consideration which makes me earnestly call the attention of the Directors to the subject of statistics. If these were actually returned–and there would be very little difficulty in doing so–it might, perhaps, be found that there is not a country better supplied with missionaries in the world, and that in proportion to the number of agents compared to the amount of population, the success may be inferior to most other countries where efforts have been made.”
Finding that a brother missionary was willing to accompany him to the station he had fixed on among the Bakhatlas, and enable him to set to work with the necessary arrangements, Livingstone set out with him in the beginning of August, 1843, and arrived at his destination after a fortnight’s journey. Writing to his family, “in sight of the hills of Bakhatla,” August 21st, 1843, he says: “We are in company with a party of three hunters: one of them from the West Indies, and two from India–Mr. Pringle from Tinnevelly, and Captain Steel of the Coldstream Guards, aide-de-camp to the Governor of Madras…. The Captain is the politest of the whole, well versed in the classics, and possessed of much general knowledge.” Captain Steele, now General Sir Thomas Steele, proved one of Livingstone’s best and most constant friends. In one respect the society of gentlemen who came to hunt would not have been sought by Livingstone, their aims and pursuits being so different from his; but he got on with them wonderfully. In some instances these strangers were thoroughly sympathetic, but not in all. When they were not sympathetic on religion, he had a strong conviction that his first duty as a servant of Christ was to commend his religion by his life and spirit–by integrity, civility, kindness, and constant readiness to deny himself in obliging others; having thus secured, their esteem and confidence, he would take such quiet opportunities as presented themselves to get near their consciences on his Master’s behalf. He took care that there should be no moving about on the day of rest, and that the outward demeanor of all should be befitting a Christian company. For himself, while he abhorred the indiscriminate slaughter of animals for mere slaughter’s sake, he thought well of the chase as a means of developing courage, promptness of action in time of danger, protracted endurance of hunger and thirst, determination in the pursuit of an object, and other qualities befitting brave and powerful men. The respect and affection with which he inspired the gentlemen who were thus associated with him was very remarkable. Doubtless, with his quick apprehension, he learned a good deal from their society of the ways and feelings of a class with whom hitherto he had hardly ever been in contact. The large resources with which they were furnished, in contrast to his own, excited no feeling of envy, nor even a desire to possess their ample means, unless he could have used them to extend missionary operations; and the gentlemen themselves would sometimes remark that the missionaries were more comfortable than they. Though they might at times spend thousands of pounds where Livingstone did not spend as many pence, and would be provided with horses, servants, tents, and stores, enough to secure comfort under almost any conditions, they had not that key to the native heart and that power to command the willing services of native attendants which belonged so remarkably to the missionary. “When we arrive at a spot where we intend to spend the night,” writes Livingstone to his family, “all hands immediately unyoke the oxen. Then one or two of the company collect wood; one of us strikes up a fire, another gets out the water-bucket and fills the kettle; a piece of meat is thrown on the fire, and if we have biscuits, we are at our coffee in less than half an hour after arriving. Our friends, perhaps, sit or stand shivering at their fire for two or three hours before they get their things ready, and are glad occasionally of a cup of coffee from us.”
The first act of the missionaries on arriving at their destination was to have an interview with the chief, and ask whether he desired a missionary. Having an eye to the beads, guns, and other things, of which white men seemed always to have an ample store, the chief and his men gave them a cordial welcome, and Livingstone next proceeded to make a purchase of land. This, like Abraham with the sons of Heth, he insisted should be done in legal form, and for this purpose he drew up a written contract to which, after it was fully explained to them, both parties attached their signatures or marks. They then proceeded to the erection of a hut fifty feet by eighteen, not getting much help from the Bakhatlas, who devolved such labors on the women, but being greatly helped by the native deacon, Mebalwe. All this Livingstone and his companion had done on their own responsibility, and in the hope that the Directors would approve of it. But if they did not, he told them that he was at their disposal “to go anywhere–_provided it be_ FORWARD.”
The progress of medical and scientific work during this period is noted in a letter to Dr. Risdon Bennett, dated 30th June, 1843. In addition to full details of the missionary work, this letter enters largely into the state of disease in South Africa, and records some interesting cases, medical and surgical. Still more interesting, perhaps, is the evidence it affords of the place in Livingstone’s attention which began to be occupied by three great subjects of which we shall hear much anon–Fever, Tsetse, and “the Lake.” Fever he considered the greatest barrier to the evangelization of Africa. Tsetse, an insect like a common fly, destroyed horses and oxen, so that many traders lost literally every ox in their team. As for the Lake, it lay somewhat beyond the outskirts of his new district, and was reported terrible for fever. He heard that Mr. Moffat intended to visit it, but he was somewhat alarmed lest his friend should suffer. It was not Moffat, but Livingstone, however, that first braved the risks of that fever swamp.
A subject of special scientific interest to the missionary during this period was–the desiccation of Africa. On this topic he addressed a long letter to Dr. Buckland in 1843, of which, considerably to his regret, no public notice appears to have been taken, and perhaps the letter never reached him. The substance of this paper may, however, be gathered from a communication subsequently made to the Royal Geographical Society[20] after his first impression had been confirmed by enlarged observation and discovery. Around, and north of Kuruman, he had found many indications of a much larger supply of water in a former age. He ascribed the desiccation to the gradual elevation of the western part of the country. He found traces of a very large ancient river which flowed nearly north and south to a large lake, including the bed of the present Orange River; in fact, he believed that the whole country south of Lake ‘Ngami presented in ancient times very much the same appearance as the basin north of that lake does now, and that the southern lake disappeared when a fissure was made in the ridge through which the Orange River now proceeds to the sea. He could even indicate the spot where the river and the lake met, for some hills there had caused an eddy in which was found a mound of calcareous tufa and travertine, full of fossil bones. These fossils he was most eager to examine, in order to determine the time of the change; but on his first visit he had no time, and when he returned, he was suddenly called away to visit a missionary’s child, a hundred miles off. It happened that he was never in the same locality again, and had therefore no opportunity to complete his investigation.
[Footnote 20: See Journal, vol. xxvii. p. 356.]
Dr. Livingstone’s mind had that wonderful power which belongs to some men of the highest gifts, of passing with the utmost rapidity, not only from subject to subject, but from one mood or key to another entirely different. In a letter to his family, written about this time, we have a characteristic instance. On one side of the sheet is a prolonged outburst of tender Christian love and lamentation over a young attendant who had died of fever suddenly; on the other side, he gives a map of the Bakhatla country with its rivers and mountains, and is quite at home in the geographical details, crowning his description with some sentimental and half-ludicrous lines of poetry. No reasonable man will fancy that in the wailings of his heart there was any levity or want of sincerity. What we are about to copy merits careful consideration: first, as evincing the depth and tenderness of his love for these black savages; next, as showing that it was pre-eminently Christian love, intensified by his vivid view of the eternal world, and belief in Christ as the only Saviour; and, lastly, as revealing the secret of the affection which these poor fellows bore to him in return. The intensity of the scrutiny which he directs on his heart, and the severity of the judgment which he seems to pass on himself, as if he had not done all he might have done for the spiritual good of this young man, show with what intense conscientiousness he tried to discharge his missionary duty:
“Poor Sehamy, where art thou now? Where lodges thy soul to-night? Didst thou think of what I told thee as thou turnedst from side to side in distress? I could now do anything for thee. I could weep for thy soul. But now nothing can be done. Thy fate is fixed. Oh, am I guilty of the blood of thy soul, my poor dear Sehamy? If so, how shall I look upon thee in the judgment? But I told thee of a Saviour; didst thou think of Him, and did He lead thee through the dark valley? Did He comfort as He only can? Help me, O Lord Jesus, to be faithful to every one. Remember me, and let me not be guilty of the blood of souls. This poor young man was the leader of the party. He governed the others, and most attentive he was to me. He anticipated my every want. He kept the water-calabash at his head at night, and if I awoke, he was ready to give me a draught immediately. When the meat was boiled he secured the best portion for me, the best place for sleeping, the best of everything. Oh, where is he now? He became ill after leaving a certain tribe, and believed he had been poisoned. Another of the party and he ate of a certain dish given them by a woman whom they had displeased, and having met this man yesterday he said, ‘Sehamy is gone to heaven, and I am almost dead by the poison given us by that woman.’ I don’t believe they took any poison, but they do, and their imaginations are dreadfully excited when they entertain that belief.”
The same letter intimates that in case his family should have arranged to emigrate to America, as he had formerly advised them to do, he had sent home a bill of which L10 was to aid the emigration, and L10 to be spent on clothes for himself. In regard to the latter sum, he now wished them to add it to the other, so that his help might be more substantial; and for himself he would make his old clothes serve for another year. The emigration scheme, which he thought would have added to the comfort of his parents and sisters, was not, however, carried into effect. The advice to his family to emigrate proceeded from deep convictions. In a subsequent letter (4th December, 1850) he writes: “If I could only be with you for a week, you would goon be pushing on in the world. The world is ours. Our Father made it to be inhabited, and many shall run to and fro, and knowledge shall be increased. _It will be increased more by emigration than by missionaries._” He held it to be God’s wish that the unoccupied parts of the earth should be possessed, and he believed in Christian colonization as a great means of spreading the gospel. We shall see afterward that to plant English and Scotch colonies in Africa became one of his master ideas and favorite schemes.
CHAPTER IV.
FIRST TWO STATIONS–MABOTSA AND CHONUANE.
A.D. 1843-1847.
Description of Mabotsa–A favorite hymn–General reading–Mabotsa infested with lions–Livingstone’s encounter–The native deacon who saved him–His Sunday-school–Marriage to Mary Moffat–Work at Mabotsa–Proposed institution for training native agents–Letter to his mother–Trouble at Mabotsa–Noble sacrifice of Livingstone–Goes to Sechele and the Bakwains–New station at Chonuane–Interest shown by Sechele–Journeys eastward–The Boers and the Transvaal–Their occupation of the country, and treatment of the natives–Work among the Bakwains–Livingstone’s desire to move on–Theological conflict at home–His view of it–His scientific labors and miscellaneous employments.
Describing what was to be his new home to his friend Watt from Kuruman, 27th September, 1843, Livingstone says: “The Bakhatla have cheerfully offered to remove to a more favorable position than they at present occupy. We have fixed upon a most delightful valley, which we hope to make the centre of our sphere of operations in the interior. It is situated in what poetical gents like you would call almost an amphitheatre of mountains. The mountain range immediately in the rear of the spot where we have fixed our residence is called Mabotsa, or a marriage-feast. May the Lord lift upon us the light of his countenance, so that by our feeble instrumentality many may thence be admitted to the marriage-feast of the Lamb. The people are as raw as may well be imagined; they have not the least desire but for the things of the earth, and it must be a long time ere we can gain their attention to the things which are above.”
Something led him in his letter to Mr. Watt to talk of the old monks, and the spots they selected for their establishments. He goes on to write lovingly of what was good in some of the old fathers of the mediaeval Church, despite the strong feeling of many to the contrary; indicating thus early the working of that catholic spirit which was constantly expanding in later years, which could separate the good in any man from all its evil surroundings, and think of it thankfully and admiringly. In the following extract we get a glimpse of a range of reading much wider than most would probably have supposed likely:
“Who can read the sermons of St. Bernard, the meditations of St. Augustine, etc., without saying, whatever other faults they had: They thirsted, and now they are filled. That hymn: of St. Bernard, on the name of Christ, although in what might he termed dog-Latin, pleases me so; it rings in my ears as I wander across the wide, wide wilderness, and makes me wish I was more like them–
“Jesu, dulcis memoria, Jesu, spes poenitentibus, Dans cordi vera gaudia; Quam pius es petentibus! Sed super mel et omnia, Quam bonus es quaerentibus! Ejus dulcis praesentia. Sed quid invenientibus!
Nil canitur suavius, Jesu, dulcedo cordium, Nil auditur jucundius, Fons, rivus, lumen mentium, Nil cogitatur dulcius, Excedens omne gaudium, Quam Jesus Dei filius. Et omne desiderium.”
Livingstone was in the habit of fastening inside the boards of his journals, or writing on the fly-leaf, verses that interested him specially. In one of these volumes this hymn is copied at full length. In another we find a very yellow newspaper clipping of the “Song of the Shirt.” In the same volume a clipping containing “The Bridge of Sighs,” beginning
“One more unfortunate,
Weary of breath,
Rashly importunate,
Gone to her death.”
In another we have Coleridge’s lines:
“He prayeth well who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.
He prayeth best who loveth best
All things both great and small; For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.”
In another, hardly legible on the marble paper, we find:
“So runs my dream: but what am I?
An infant crying in the night;
An infant crying for the light: And with no language but a cry.”
All Livingstone’s personal friends testify that, considering the state of banishment in which he lived, his acquaintance with English literature was quite remarkable. When a controversy arose in America as to the genuineness of his letters to the _New York Herald_, the familiarity of the writer with the poems of Whittier was made an argument against him. But Livingstone knew a great part of the poetry of Longfellow, Whittier, and others by heart.
There was one drawback to the new locality: it was infested with lions. All the world knows the story of the encounter at Mabotsa, which was so near ending Livingstone’s career, when the lion seized him by the shoulder, tore his flesh, and crushed his bone. Nothing in all Livingstone’s history took more hold of the popular imagination, or was more frequently inquired about when he came home[21]. By a kind of miracle his life was saved, but the encounter left him lame for life of the arm which the lion crunched[22]. But the world generally does not know that Mebalwe, the native who was with him, and who saved his life by diverting the lion when his paw was on his head, was the teacher whom Mrs. M’Robert’s twelve pounds had enabled him to employ. Little did the good woman think that this offering would indirectly be the means of preserving the life of Livingstone for the wonderful work of the next thirty years! When, on being attacked by Mebalwe, the lion left Livingstone, and sprang upon him, he bit his thigh, then dashed toward another man, and caught him by the shoulder, when in a moment, the previous shots taking effect, he fell down dead. Sir Bartle Frere, in his obituary notice of Livingstone read to the Royal Geographical Society, remarked: “For thirty years afterward all his labors and adventures, entailing such exertion and fatigue, were undertaken with a limb so maimed that it was painful for him to raise a fowling-piece, or in fact to place the left arm in any position above the level of the shoulder.”
[Footnote 21: He did not speak of it spontaneously, and sometimes he gave unexpected answers to questions put to him about it. To one person who asked very earnestly what were his thoughts when the lion was above him, he answered, “I was thinking what part of me he would eat first”–a grotesque thought, which some persons considered strange in so good a man, but which was quite in accordance with human experience in similar circumstances.]
[Footnote 22: The false joint in the crushed arm was the mark by which the body of Livingstone was identified when brought home by his followers in 1873.]
In his _Missionary Travels_ Livingstone says that but for the importunities of his friends, he meant to have kept this story in store to tell his children in his dotage. How little he made of it at the time will be seen from the following allusion to it in a letter to his father, dated 27th July, 1844. After telling how the attacks of the lions drew the people of Mabotsa away from the irrigating operations he was engaged in, he says:
“At last, one of the lions destroyed nine sheep in broad daylight on a hill just opposite our house. All the people immediately ran over to it, and, contrary to my custom, I imprudently went with them, in order to see how they acted, and encourage them to destroy him. They surrounded him several times, but he managed to break through the circle. I then got tired. In coming home I had to come near to the end of the hill. They were then close upon the lion and had wounded him. He rushed out from the bushes which concealed him from view, and bit me on the arm so as to break the bone. It is now nearly well, however, feeling weak only from having been confined in one position so long; and I ought to praise Him who delivered me from so great a danger. I hope I shall never forget his mercy. You need not be sorry for me, for long before this reaches you it will be quite as strong as ever it was. Gratitude is the only feeling we ought to have in remembering the event. Do not mention this to any one. I do not like to be talked about.”
In a letter to the Directors, Livingstone briefly adverts to Mebalwe’s service on this occasion, but makes it a peg on which to hang some strong remarks on that favorite topic–the employment of native agency:
“Our native assistant Mebalwe has been of considerable value to the Mission. In endeavoring to save my life he nearly lost his own, for he was caught and wounded severely, but both before being laid aside, and since his recovery, he has shown great willingness to be useful. The cheerful manner in which he engages with us in manual labor in the station, and his affectionate addresses to his countrymen, are truly gratifying. Mr. E. took him to some of the neighboring villages lately, in order to introduce him to his work; and I intend to depart to-morrow for the same purpose to several of the villages situated northeast of this. In all there may be a dozen considerable villages situated at convenient distances around us, and we each purpose to visit them statedly. It would be an _immense advantage_ to the cause had we many such agents.”
Another proof that his pleas for native agency, published in some of the Missionary Magazines, were telling at home, was the receipt of a contribution for the employment of a native helper, amounting to L15, from a Sunday-school in Southampton. Touched with this proof of youthful sympathy, Livingstone addressed a long letter of thanks to the Southampton teachers and children, desiring to deepen their interest in the work, and concluding with an account of his Sunday-school:
“I yesterday commenced school for the first time at Mabotsa, and the poor little naked things came with fear and trembling. A native teacher assisted, and the chief collected as many of them as he could, or I believe we should have had none. The reason is, the women make us the hobgoblins of their children, telling them ‘these white men bite children, feed them with dead men’s brains, and all manner of nonsense. We are just commencing our mission among them.”
A new star now appeared in Livingstone’s horizon, destined to give a brighter complexion to his life, and a new illustration to the name Mabotsa. Till this year (1844) he had steadily repudiated all thoughts of marriage, thinking it better to be independent. Nor indeed had he met with any one to induce him to change his mind. Writing in the end of 1843 to his friend Watt, he had said: “There’s no outlet for me when I begin to think of getting married but that of sending home an advertisement to the _Evangelical Magazine_, and if I get very old, it must be for some decent sort of widow. In the meantime I am too busy to think of any thing of the kind.” But soon after the Moffats came back from England to Kuruman, their eldest daughter Mary rapidly effected a revolution in Livingstone’s ideas of matrimony. They became engaged. In announcing his approaching marriage to the Directors, he makes it plain that he had carefully considered the bearing which this step might have on his usefulness as a missionary. No doubt if he had foreseen the very extraordinary work to which he was afterwards to be called, he might have come to a different conclusion. But now, apparently, he was fixed and settled. Mabotsa would become a centre from which native missionary agents would radiate over a large circumference. His own life-work would resemble Mr. Moffat’s. For influencing the women and children of such a place, a Christian lady was indispensable, and who so likely to do it well as one born in Africa, the daughter of an eminent and honored missionary, herself familiar with missionary life, and gifted with the winning manner and the ready helping hand that were so peculiarly adapted for this work? The case was as clear as possible, and Livingstone was very happy.
On his way home from Kuruman, after the engagement, he writes to her cheerily from Motito, on 1st August, 1844, chiefly about the household they were soon to get up; asking her to get her father to order some necessary articles, and to write to Colesberg about the marriage-license (and if he did not get it, they would license themselves!), and concluding thus:
“And now, my dearest, farewell. May God bless you! Let your affection be towards Him much more than towards me; and, kept by his mighty power and grace, I hope I shall never give you cause to regret that you have given me a part. Whatever friendship we feel towards each other, let us always look to Jesus as our common friend and guide, and may He shield you with his everlasting arms from every evil!”
Next month he writes from Mabotsa with full accounts of the progress of their house, of which he was both architect and builder:
“_Mabotsa, 12th September_, 1844.–I must tell you of the progress I have made in architecture. The walls are nearly finished, although the dimensions are 52 feet by 20 outside, or almost the same size as the house in which you now reside. I began with stone, but when it was breast-high, I was obliged to desist from my purpose to build it entirely of that material by an accident, which, slight as it was, put a stop to my operations in that line. A stone failing was stupidly, or rather instinctively, caught by me in its fall by the left hand, and it nearly broke my arm over again. It swelled up again, and I fevered so much I was glad of a fire, although the weather was quite warm. I expected bursting and discharge, but Baba bound it up nicely, and a few days’ rest put all to rights. I then commenced my architecture, and six days have brought the walls up a little more than six feet.
“The walls will be finished long before you receive this, and I suppose the roof too, but I have still the wood of the roof to seek. It is not, however, far off; and as Mr. E. and I, with the Kurumanites, got on the roof of the school in a week, I hope this will not be more than a fortnight or three weeks. Baba has been most useful to me in making door and window frames; indeed, if he had not turned out I should not have been advanced so far as I am. Mr. E.’s finger is the cause in part of my having no aid from him, but all will come right at last. It is pretty hard work, and almost enough to drive love out of my head, but it is not situated there; it is in my heart, and won’t come out unless you behave so as to quench it!…
“You must try and get a maid of some sort to come with although it is only old Moyimang; you can’t go without some one, and a Makhatla can’t be had for either love or money….
“You must excuse soiled paper, my hands won’t wash clean after dabbling mud all day. And although the above does not contain evidence of it, you are as dear to me as ever, and will be as long as our lives are spared.–I am still your most affectionate
“D. LIVINGSTON.”
A few weeks later he writes:
“As I am favored with another opportunity to Kuruman, I gladly embrace it, and wish I could embrace you at the same time; but as I cannot, I must do the next best to it, and while I give you the good news that our work is making progress, and of course the time of our separation becoming beautifully less, I am happy in the hope that, by the messenger who now goes, I shall receive the good news that you are well and happy, and remembering me with some of that affection which we bear to each other…. All goes on pretty well here; the school is sometimes well, sometimes ill attended. I begin to like it, and I once believed I could never have any pleasure in such employment. I had a great objection to school-keeping, but I find in that as in almost everything else I set myself to as a matter of duty, I soon became enamored of it. A boy came three times last week, and on the third time could act as monitor to the rest through a great portion of the alphabet. He is a real Mokhatla, but I have lost sight of him again. If I get them on a little, I shall translate some of your infant-school hymns into Sichuana rhyme, and you may yet, if you have time, teach them the tunes to them. I, poor mortal, am as mute as a fish in regard to singing, and Mr. Englis says I have not a bit of imagination. Mebalwe teaches them the alphabet in the ‘auld lang syne’ tune sometimes, and I heard it sung by some youths in the gardens yesterday–a great improvement over their old see-saw tunes indeed. Sometimes we have twenty, sometimes two, sometimes none at all.
“Give my love to A., and tell her to be sure to keep my lecture warm. She must not be vexed with herself, that she was not more frank to me. If she is now pleased, all is right. I have sisters, and know all of you have your failings, but I won’t love you less for these. And to mother, too, give my kindest salutation. I suppose I shall get a lecture from her, too, about the largeness of the house. If there are too many windows, she can just let me know. I could build them all up in two days, and let the light come down the chimney, if that would please. I’ll do anything for peace, except fighting for it. And now I must again, my dear, dear Mary, bid you good-bye. Accept my expressions as literally true when I say, I am your most affectionate and still confiding lover,
“D. LIVINGSTON.”
In due time the marriage was solemnized, and Livingstone brought his wife to Mabotsa. Here they went vigorously to work, Mrs. Livingstone with her infant-school, and her husband with all the varied agencies, medical, educational, and pastoral, which his active spirit could bring to bear upon the people. They were a very superstitious race, and, among other things, had great faith in rain-making. Livingstone had a famous encounter with one of their rain-makers, the effect of which, was that the pretender was wholly nonplused; but instead of being convinced of the absurdity of their belief, the people were rather disposed to think that the missionaries did not want them to get rain. Some of them were workers in iron, who carried their superstitious notions into that department of life, too, believing that the iron could be smelted only by the power of medicines, and that those who had not the proper medicine need not attempt the work. In the hope of breaking down these absurdities, Livingstone planned a course of popular lectures on the works of God in creation and providence, to be carried out in the following way:
“I intend to commence with the goodness-of God in giving iron ore, by giving, if I can, a general knowledge of the simplicity of the substance, and endeavoring to disabuse their minds of the idea which prevents them, in general, from reaping the benefit of that mineral which abounds in their country. I intend, also, to pay more attention to the children of the few believers we have with us as a class, for whom, as baptized ones, we are bound especially to care. May the Lord enable me to fulfill my resolutions! I have now the happy prospect before me of real missionary work. All that has preceded has been preparatory.”
All this time Livingstone had been cherishing his plan of a training seminary for native agents. He had written a paper and brought the matter before the missionaries, but without success. Some opposed the scheme fairly, as being premature, while some insinuated that his object was to stand well with the Directors, and get himself made Professor. This last objection induced him to withdraw his proposal. He saw that in his mode of prosecuting the matter he had not been very knowing; it would have been better to get some of the older brethren to adopt it. He feared that his zeal had injured the cause he desired to benefit, and in writing to his friend Watt, he said that for months he felt bitter grief, and could never think of the subject without a pang[23].
[Footnote 23: Dr. Moffat favored the scheme of a training seminary, and when he came home afterward, helped to raise a large sum of money for the purpose. He was strongly of opinion that the institution should be built at Sechele’s; but, contrary to his view, and that of Livingstone, it has been placed at Kuruman.]
A second time he brought forward his proposal, but again without success. Was he then to be beaten? Far from it. He would change his tactics, however. He would first set himself to show what could be done by native efforts; he would travel about, wherever he found a road, and after inquiries, settle native agents far and wide. The plan had only to be tried, under God’s blessing, to succeed. Here again we trace the Providence that shaped his career. Had his wishes been carried into effect, he might have spent his life training native agents, and doing undoubtedly a noble work: but he would not have traversed Africa; he would not have given its death-blow to African slavery; he would not have closed the open sore of the world, nor rolled away the great obstacle to the evangelization of the Continent.
Some glimpses of his Mabotsa life may be got from a letter to his mother (14th May, 1845). Usually his letters for home were meant for the whole family and addressed accordingly; but with a delicacy of feeling, which many will appreciate, he wrote separately to his mother after a little experience of married life:
“I often think of you, and perhaps more frequently since I got married than before. Only yesterday I said to my wife, when I thought of the nice clean bed I enjoy now, ‘You put me in mind of my mother; she was always particular about our beds and linen. I had had rough times of it before.’…
“I cannot perceive that the attentions paid to my father-in-law at home have spoiled him. He is, of course, not the same man he formerly must have been, for he now knows the standing he has among the friends of Christ at home. But the plaudits he received have had a bad effect, and tho’ not on _his_ mind, yet on that of his fellow-laborers. You, perhaps, cannot understand this, but so it is. If one man is praised, others think this is more than is deserved, and that they, too (‘others,’ they say, while they mean themselves), ought to have a share. Perhaps you were gratified to see my letters quoted in the _Chronicle_. In some minds they produced bitter envy, and if it were in my power, I should prevent the publication of any in future. But all is in the Lord’s hands; on Him I cast my care. His testimony I receive as it stands–He careth for us. Yes, He does; for He says it, who is every way worthy of credit. He will give what is good for me. He will see to it that all things work together for good. Do thou for me, O Lord God Almighty! May his blessing rest on you, my dear mother….
“I received the box from Mr. D. The clothes are all too wide by four inches at least. Does he think that aldermen grow in Africa? Mr. N., too, fell into the same fault, but he will be pleased to know his boots will be worn by a much better man–Mr. Moffat. I am not an atom thicker than when you saw me….
“Respecting the mission here, we can say nothing. The people have not the smallest love to the gospel of Jesus. They hate and fear it, as a revolutionary spirit is disliked by the old Tories. It appears to them as that which, if not carefully guarded against, will seduce them, and destroy their much-loved domestic institutions. No pro-slavery man in the Southern States dreads more the abolition principles than do the Bakhatla the innovations of the Word of God. Nothing but power Divine can work the mighty change.”
Unhappily Mr. and Mrs. Livingstone’s residence at Mabotsa was embittered by a painful collision with the missionary who had taken part in rearing the station. Livingstone was accused of acting unfairly by him, of assuming to himself more than his due, and attempts were made to discredit him, both among the missionaries and the Directors. It was a very painful ordeal, and Livingstone felt it keenly. He held the accusation to be unjust, as most people will hold it to have been who know that one of the charges against him was that he was a “non-entity”! A tone of indignation pervades his letters:–that after having borne the heat and burden of the day, he should be accused of claiming for himself the credit due to one who had done so little in comparison. But the noble spirit of Livingstone rose to the occasion. Rather than have any scandal before the heathen, he would give up his house and garden at Mabotsa, with all the toil and money they had cost him, go with his young bride to some other place, and begin anew the toil of house and school building, and gathering the people around him. His colleague was so struck with his generosity that he said had he known his intention he never would have spoken a word against him. Livingstone had spent all his money, and out of a salary of a hundred pounds it was not easy to build a house every other year. But he stuck to his resolution. Parting with his garden evidently cost him a pang, especially when he thought of the tasteless hands into which it was to fall. “I like a garden,” he wrote, “but paradise will make amends for all our privations and sorrows here.” Self-denial was a firmly established habit with him; and the passion of “moving on” was warm in his blood. Mabotsa did not thrive after Livingstone left it, but the brother with whom he had the difference lived to manifest a very different spirit.
In some of his journeys, Livingstone had come into close contact with the tribe of the Bakwains, which, on the murder of their chief, some time before, had been divided into two, one part under Bubi, already referred to, and the other under Sechele, son of the murdered chief, also already introduced. Both of these chiefs had shown much regard for Livingstone, and on the death of Bubi, Sechele and his people indicated a strong wish that a missionary should reside among them. On leaving Mabotsa, Livingstone transferred his services to this tribe. The name of the pew station was Chonuane; it was situated some forty miles from Mabotsa, and in 1846 it became the centre of Livingstone’s operations among the Bakwains and their chief Sechele.
Livingstone had been disappointed with the result of his work among the Bakhatlas. No doubt much good had been done; he had prevented several wars; but where were the conversions[24]? On leaving he found that he had made more impressions on them than he had supposed. They were most unwilling to lose him, offered to do anything in their power for his comfort, and even when his oxen were “inspanned” and he was on the point of moving, they offered to build a new house without expense to him in some other place, if only he would not leave them. In a financial point of view, the removal to Chonuane was a serious undertaking. He had to apply to the Directors at home for a building-grant–only thirty pounds, but there were not wanting objectors even to that small sum. It was only in self-vindication that he was constrained to tell of the hardships which his family had borne;–
[Footnote 24: When some of Livingstone’s “new light” friends heard that there were so few conversions, they seem to have thought that he was too much of an old Calvinist, and wrote to him to preach that the remedy was as extensive as the disease–Christ loved _you_, and gave himself for _you_. “You may think me heretical,” replied he, “but we don’t need to make the extent of the atonement the main topic of our preaching. We preach to men who don’t know but they are beasts, who have no idea of God as a personal agent, or of sin as evil, otherwise than as an offense against each other, which may or may not be punished by the party offended…. Their consciences are seared, and moral perceptions blunted. Their memories retain scarcely anything we teach them, and so low have they sunk that the plainest text in the whole Bible cannot be understood by them.”]
“We endured for a long while, using a wretched infusion of native corn for coffee, but when our corn was done, we were fairly obliged to go to Kuruman for supplies. I can bear what other Europeans would consider hunger and thirst without any inconvenience, but when we arrived, to hear the old woman who had seen my wife depart about two years before, exclaiming before the door, ‘Bless me! how lean she is! Has he starved her? Is there no food in the country to which she has been?’ was more than I could well bear.”
From the first, Sechele showed an intelligent interest in Livingstone’s preaching. He became a great reader especially of the Bible, and lamented very bitterly that he had got involved in heathen customs, and now did not know what to do with his wives. At one time he expressed himself quite willing to convert all his people to Christianity by the litupa, _i.e._ whips of rhinoceros hide; but when he came to understand better, he lamented that while he could make his people do anything else he liked, he could not get one of them to believe. He began family worship, and Livingstone was surprised to hear how well he conducted prayer in his own simple and beautiful style. When he was baptized, after a profession of three years, he sent away his superfluous wives in a kindly and generous way; but all their connections became active and bitter enemies of the gospel, and the conversion of Sechele, instead of increasing the congregation, reduced it so much that sometimes the chief and his family were almost the only persons present. A bell-man of a somewhat peculiar order was once employed to collect the people for service–a tall gaunt fellow. “Up he jumped on a sort of platform, and shouted at the top of his voice, ‘Knock that woman down over there. Strike her, she is putting on her pot! Do you see that one hiding herself? Give her a good blow. There she is–see, see, knock her down!’ All the women ran to the place of meeting in no time, for each thought herself meant. But, though a most efficient bell-man, we did not like to employ him.”
While residing at Chonuane, Livingstone performed two journeys eastward, in order to attempt the removal of certain obstacles to the establishment of at least one of his native teachers in that direction. This brought him into connection with the Dutch Boers of the Cashan mountains, otherwise called Magaliesberg. The Boers were emigrants from the Cape, who had been dissatisfied with the British rule, and especially with the emancipation of their Hottentot slaves, and had created for themselves a republic in the north (the Transvaal), in order that they might pursue, unmolested, the proper treatment of the blacks. “It is almost needless to add,” says Livingstone, “that proper treatment has always contained in it the essential element of slavery, viz., compulsory unpaid labor.” The Boers had effected the expulsion of Mosilikatse, a savage Zulu warrior, and in return for this service they considered themselves sole masters of the soil. While still engaged in the erection of his dwelling-house at Chonuane, Livingstone received notes from the Commandant and Council of the emigrants, requesting an explanation of his intentions, and an intimation that they had resolved to come and deprive Sechele of his fire-arms. About the same time he received several very friendly messages and presents from Mokhatla, chief of a large section of the Bakhatla, who lived about four days eastward of his station, and had once, while Livingstone was absent, paid a visit to Chonuane, and expressed satisfaction with the idea of obtaining Paul, a native convert, as his teacher. As soon as his house was habitable, Livingstone proceeded to the eastward, to visit Mokhatla, and to confer with the Boers.
On his way to Mokhatla he was surprised at the unusual density of the population, giving him the opportunity of preaching the gospel at least once every day. The chief, Mokhatla, whose people were quiet and industrious, was eager to get a missionary, but said that an arrangement must be made with the Dutch commandant. This involved some delay.
Livingstone then returned to Chonuane, finished the erection of a school there, and setting systematic instruction fairly in operation under Paul and his son, Isaac, again went eastward, accompanied this time by Mrs. Livingstone and their infant son, Robert Moffat[25]–all the three being in indifferent health. Mebalwe, the catechist, was also with them. Taking a different route, they came on another Bakhatla tribe, whose country abounded in metallic ores, and who, besides cultivating their fields, span cotton, smelted iron, copper, and tin, made an alloy of tin and copper, and manufactured ornaments. Livingstone had constantly an eye to the industries and commercial capabilities of the countries he passed through. Social reform was certainly much needed here; for the chief, though not twenty years of age, had already forty-eight wives and twenty children. They heard of another tribe, said to excel all others in manufacturing skill, and having the honorable distinction, “they had never been known to kill any one.” This lily among thorns they were unable to visit. Three tribes of Bakhalaka whom they did visit were at continual war.
[Footnote 25: He wrote to his father that he would have called him Neil, if it had not been such an ugly name, and all the people would have called him Ra-Neeley!]
Deriving his information from the Boers themselves, Livingstone learned that they had taken possession of nearly all the fountains, so that the natives lived in the country only by sufferance. The chiefs were compelled to furnish the emigrants with as much free labor as they required. This was in return for the privilege of living in the country of the Boers! The absence of law left the natives open to innumerable wrongs which the better-disposed of the emigrants lamented, but could not prevent. Livingstone found that the forcible seizure of cattle was a common occurrence, but another custom was even worse. When at war, the Dutch forced natives to assist them, and sent them before them into battle, to encounter the battle-axes of their opponents, while the Dutch fired in safety at their enemies over the heads of their native allies. Of course all the disasters of the war fell on the natives; the Dutch had only the glory and the spoil. Such treatment of the natives burned into the very soul of Livingstone. He was specially distressed at the purpose expressed to pick a quarrel with Sechele, for whatever the emigrants might say of other tribes, they could not but admit that the Bechuanas had been always an honest and peaceable people.
When Livingstone met the Dutch commandant he received favorably his proposal of a native missionary, but another obstacle arose. Near the proposed station lived a Dutch emigrant who had shown himself the inveterate enemy of missions. He had not scrupled to say that the proper way to treat any native missionary was to kill him. Livingstone was unwilling to plant Mebalwe beside so bloodthirsty a neighbor**(spelling?), and as he had not time to, go to him, and try to bring him to a better mind, and there was plenty of work to be done at the station, they all returned to Chonuane.
“We have now,” says Livingstone (March, 1847), “been a little more than a year with the Bakwains. No conversions have taken place, but real progress has been made.” He adverts to the way in which the Sabbath was observed, no work being done by the natives in the gardens that day, and hunting being suspended. Their superstitious belief in rain-maiking had got a blow. There was a real desire for knowledge, though hindered by the prevailing famine caused by the want of rain. There was also a general impression among the people that the missionaries were their friends. But civilization apart from conversion would be but a poor recompense for their labor.
But, whatever success might attend their work among the Bakwains, Livingstone’s soul was soaring beyond them:
“I am more and more convinced,” he writes to the Directors, “that in order to the permanent settlement of the gospel in any part, the natives must be taught to relinquish their reliance on Europe. An onward movement ought to be made whether men will hear or whether they will forbear. I tell my Bakwains that if spared ten years, I shall move on to regions beyond them. If our missions would move onward now to those regions I have lately visited, they would in all probability prevent the natives settling into that state of determined hatred to all Europeans which I fear now characterizes most of the Caffres near the Colony. If natives are not elevated by contact with Europeans, they are sure to be deteriorated. It is with pain I have observed that all the tribes I have lately seen are undergoing the latter process. The country is fine. It abounds in streams, and has many considerable rivers. The Boers hate missionaries, but by a kind and prudent course of conduct one can easily manage them. Medicines are eagerly received, and I intend to procure a supply of Dutch tracts for distribution among them. The natives who have been in subjection to Mosilikatse place unbounded confidence in missionaries.”
In his letters to friends at home, whatever topic Livingstone may touch, we see evidence of one over-mastering idea–the vastness of Africa, and the duty of beginning a new area of enterprise to reach its people. Among his friends the Scotch Congregationalists, there had been a keen controversy on some points of Calvinism. Livingstone did not like it; he was not a high Calvinist theoretically, yet he could not accept the new views, “from a secret feeling of being absolutely at the divine disposal as a sinner;” but these were theoretical questions, and with dark Africa around him, he did not see why the brethren at home should split on them. Missionary influence in South Africa was directed in a wrong channel. There were three times too many missionaries in the colony, and vast regions beyond lay untouched. He wrote to Mr. Watt: “If you meet me down in the colony before eight years are expired, you may shoot me.”
Of his employments and studies he gives the following account: “I get the _Evangelical, Scottish Congregational, Eclectic, Lancet, British and Foreign Medical Review_. I can read in journeying, but little at home. Building, gardening, cobbling, doctoring, tinkering, carpentering, gun-mending, farriering, wagon-mending, preaching, schooling, lecturing on physics according to my means, beside a chair in divinity to a class of three, fill up my time.”
With all his other work, he was still enthusiastic in science. “I have written Professor Buckland,” he says to Mr. Watt (May, 1845), “and send him specimens too, but have not received any answer. I have a great lot by me now. I don’t know whether he received my letter or not. Could you ascertain? I am trying to procure specimens of the entire geology of this region, and will try and make a sort of chart. I am taking double specimens now, so that if one part is lost, I can send another. The great difficulty is transmission. I sent a dissertation on the decrease of water in Africa. Call on Professor Owen and ask if he wants anything in the four jars I still possess, of either rhinoceros, camelopard, etc., etc. If he wants these, or anything else these jars will hold, he must send me more jars and spirits of wine.”
He afterward heard of the fate of one of the boxes of specimens he had sent home–that which contained the fossils of Bootchap. It was lost on the railway after reaching England, in custody of a friend. “The thief thought the box contained bullion, no doubt. You may think of one of the faces in _Punch_ as that of the scoundrel, when he found in the box a lot of ‘chuckystanes.'” He had got many nocturnal-feeding, animals, but the heat made it very difficult to preserve them. Many valuable seeds he had sent to Calcutta, with the nuts of the desert, but had heard nothing of them. He had lately got knowledge of a root to which the same virtues were attached as to ergot of rye. He tells his friend about the tsetse, the fever, the north wind, and other African notabilia. These and many other interesting points of information are followed up by the significant question–
“Who will penetrate through Africa?”
CHAPTER V.
Third Station–Kolobeng.
A.D. 1847-1852.
Want of rain at Chonuane–Removal to Kolobeng–House-building and public works–Hopeful prospects–Letters to Mr. Watt, his sister, and Dr. Bennett–The church at Kolobeng–Pure communion–Conversion of Sechele–Letter from his brother Charles–His history–Livingstone’s relations with the Boers–He cannot get native teachers planted in the East–Resolves to explore northwards–Extracts from Journal–Scarcity of water–Wild animals and other risks–Custom-house robberies and annoyances–Visit from Secretary of London Missionary Society–Manifold employments of Livingstone–Studies in Sichuana–His reflection on this period of his life while detained at Manyuema in 1870.
The residence of the Livingstones at Chonuane was of short continuance. The want of rain was fatal to agriculture, and about equally fatal to the mission. It was necessary to remove to a neighborhood where water could be obtained. The new locality chosen was on the banks of the river Kolobeng, about forty miles distant from Chonuane. In a letter to the Royal Geographical Society, his early and warm friend and fellow-traveler, Mr. Oswell, thus describes Kolobeng: “The town stands in naked ‘deformity on the side of and under a ridge of red ironstone; the mission-house on a little rocky eminence over the river Kolobeng.” Livingstone had pointed out to the chief that the only feasible way of watering the gardens was to select some good never-failing river, make a canal, and irrigate the adjacent lands. The wonderful influence which he had acquired was apparent from the fact that the very morning after he told them of his intention to move to the Kolobeng, the whole tribe was in motion for the “flitting.” Livingstone had to set to work at his old business–building a house–the third which he had reared with his own hands. It was a mere hut–for a permanent house he had to wait a year. The natives, of course, had their huts to rear and their gardens to prepare; but, besides this, Livingstone set them to public works. For irrigating their gardens, a dam had to be dug and a water-course scooped out; sixty-five of the younger men dug the dam, and forty of the older made the water-course. The erection of the school was undertaken by the chief Sechele: “I desire,” he said, “to build a house for God, the defender of my town, and that you be at no expense for it whatever.” Two hundred of his people were employed in this work.
Livingstone had hardly had time to forget his building troubles at Mabotsa and Chonuane, when he began this new enterprise. But he was in much better spirits, much more hopeful than he had been. Writing to Mr. Watt on 13th February, 1848, he says:–
“All our meetings are good compared to those we had at Mabotsa, and some of them admit of no comparison whatever. Ever since we moved, we have been incessantly engaged in manual labor. We have endeavored, as far as possible, to carry on systematic instruction at the same time, but have felt it very hard pressure on our energies…. Our daily labors are in the following sort of order:
“We get up as soon as we can, generally with the sun in summer, then have family worship, breakfast, and school; and as soon as these are over we begin the manual operations needed, sowing, ploughing, smithy work, and every other sort of work by turns as required. My better-half is employed all the morning in culinary or other work; and feeling pretty well tired by dinner-time, we take about two hours’ rest then; but more frequently, without the respite I try to secure for myself, she goes off to hold infant-school, and this, I am happy to say, is very popular with the youngsters. She sometimes has eighty, but the average may be sixty. My manual labors are continued till about five o’clock. I then go into the town to give lessons and talk to any one who may be disposed for it. As soon as the cows are milked we have a meeting, and this is followed by a prayer-meeting in Secheles house, which brings me home about half-past eight, and generally tired enough, too fatigued to think of any mental exertion. I do not enumerate these duties by way of telling how much we do, but to let you know a cause of sorrow I have that so little of my time is devoted to real missionary work.”
First there was a temporary house to be built, then a permanent one, and Livingstone was not exempted from the casualties of mechanics. Once he found himself dangling from a beam by his weak arm. Another time he had a fall from the roof. A third time he cut himself severely with an axe. Working on the roof in the sun, his lips got all scabbed and broken. If he mentions such things to Dr. Bennett or other friend, it is either in the way of illustrating some medical point or to explain how he had never found time to take the latitude of his station till he was stopped working by one of these accidents. At best it was weary work. “Two days ago,” he writes to his sister Janet (5th July, 1848), “we entered our new house. What a mercy to be in a house again! A year in a little hut through which the wind blew our candles into glorious icicles (as a poet would say) by night, and in which crowds of flies continually settled on the eyes of our poor little brats by day, makes us value our present castle. Oh, Janet, know thou, if thou art given to building castles in the air, that that is easy work to erecting cottages on the ground.” He could not quite forget that it was unfair treatment that had driven him from Mabotsa, and involved him in these labors. “I often think,” he writes to Dr. Bennett, “I have forgiven, as I hope to be forgiven; but the remembrance of slander often comes boiling up, although I hate to think of it. You must remember me in your prayers, that more of the spirit of Christ may be imparted to me. All my plans of mental culture have been broken through by manual labor. I shall soon, however, be obliged to give my son and daughter a jog along the path to learning…. Your family increases, very fast, and I fear we follow in your wake. I cannot realize the idea of your sitting with four around you, and I can scarcely believe myself to be so far advanced as to be the father of two.”
Livingstone never expected the work of real Christianity to advance rapidly among the Bakwains. They were a slow people and took long to move. But it was not his desire to have a large church of nominal adherents. “Nothing,” he writes, “will induce me to form an impure church. Fifty added to the church sounds fine at home, but if only five of these are genuine, what will it profit in the Great Day? I have felt more than ever lately that the great object of our exertions ought to be conversion.” There was no subject on which Livingstone had stronger feelings than on purity of communion. For two whole years he allowed no dispensation of the Lord’s Supper, because he did not deem the professing Christians to be living consistently. Here was a crowning proof of his hatred of all sham and false pretense, and his intense love of solid, thorough, finished work.
Hardly were things begun to be settled at Kolobeng, when, by way of relaxation, Livingstone (January, 1848) again moved eastward. He would have gone sooner, but “a mad sort of Scotchman[26],” having wandered past them shooting elephants, and lost all his cattle by the bite of the tsetse-fly, Livingstone had to go to his help; and moreover the dam, having burst, required to be repaired. Sechele set out to accompany him, and intended to go with him the whole way; but some friends having come to visit his tribe, he had to return, or at least did return, leaving Livingstone four gallons of porridge, and two servants to act in his stead. “He is about the only individual,” says Livingstone, “who possesses distinct, consistent views on the subject of our mission. He is bound by his wives: has a curious idea–would like to go to another country for three or four years in order to study, with the hope that probably his wives would have married others in the meantime. He would then return, and be admitted to the Lord’s Supper, and teach his people the knowledge he has acquired, He seems incapable of putting them away. He feels so attached to them, and indeed we, too, feel much attached to most of them. They are our best scholars, our constant friends. We earnestly pray that they, too, may be enlightened by the Spirit of God.”
[Footnote 26: Mr. Gordon Cumming.]
The prayer regarding Sechele was answered soon. Reviewing the year 1844 in a letter to the Directors, Livingstone says: “An event that excited more open enmity than any other was the profession of faith and subsequent reception of the chief into the church.”
During the first years at Kolobeng he received a long letter from his younger brother Charles, then in the United States, requesting him to use his influence with the London Missionary Society that he might be sent as a missionary to China. In writing to the Directors about his brother, in reply to this request, Livingstone disclaimed all idea of influencing them except in so far as he might be able to tell them facts. His brother’s history was very interesting. In 1839, when David Livingstone was in England, Charles became earnest about religion, influenced partly by the thought that as his brother, to whom he was most warmly attached, was going abroad, he might never see him again in this world, and therefore he would prepare to meet him in the next. A strong desire sprang up in his mind to obtain a liberal education. Not having the means to get this at home, he was advised by David to go to America, and endeavor to obtain admission to one of the colleges there where the students support themselves by manual labor. To help him in this, David sent him five pounds, which he had just received from the Society, being the whole of his quarter’s allowance in London. On landing at New York, after selling his box and bed, Charles found his whole stock of cash to amount to L2, 13s. 6d. Purchasing a loaf and a piece of cheese as _viaticum_, he started for a college at Oberlin, seven hundred miles off, where Dr. Finney was President. He contrived to get to the college without having ever begged. In the third year he entered on a theological course, with the view of becoming a missionary. He did not wish, and could never agree, as a missionary, to hold an appointment from an American Society, on account of the relation of the American Churches to slavery; therefore he applied to the London Missionary Society. David had suggested to his father that if Charles was to be a missionary, he ought to direct his attention to China. Livingstone’s first missionary love had not become cold, and much though he might have wished to have his brother in Africa, he acted consistently on his old conviction that there were enough of English missionaries there, and that China had much more need.
The Directors declined to appoint Charles Livingstone without a personal visit, which he could not afford to make. This circumstance led him to accept a pastorate in New England, where he remained until 1857, when he came to this country and joined his brother in the Zambesi Expedition. Afterward he was appointed H. M. Consul at Fernando Po, but being always delicate, he succumbed to the climate of the country, and died a few months after his brother, on his way home, in October, 1873. Sir Bartle Frere, as President of the Royal Geographical Society, paid a deserved tribute to his affectionate and earnest nature, his consistent Christian life, and his valuable help to Christian missions and the African cause generally[27].
[Footnote 27: Journal of the Royal Geographical Society, 1874, p. cxxviii.]
Livingstone’s relations with the Boers did not improve. He has gone so fully into this subject in his _Missionary Travels_ that a very slight reference to it is all that is needed here. It was at first very difficult for him to comprehend how the most flagrant injustice and inhumanity to the black race could be combined, as he found it to be, with kindness and general respectability, and even with the profession of piety. He only came to comprehend this when, after more experience, he understood the demoralization which the slave-system produces. It was necessary for the Boers to possess themselves of children for servants, and believing or fancying that in some tribe an insurrection was plotting, they would fall on that tribe and bring off a number of the children. The most foul massacres were justified on the ground that they were necessary to subdue the troublesome tendencies of the people, and therefore essential to permanent peace. Livingstone felt keenly that the Boers who came to live among the Bakwains made no distinction between them and the Caffres, although the Bechuanas were noted for honesty, and never attacked either Boers or English. On the principle of elevating vague rumors into alarming facts, the Boers of the Cashan Mountains, having heard that Sechele was possessed of fire-arms (the number of his muskets was five!) multiplied the number by a hundred, and threatened him with an invasion. Livingstone, who was accused of supplying these arms, went to the commandant Krieger, and prevailed upon him to defer the expedition, but refused point-blank to comply with Krieger’s wish that he should act as a spy on the Bakwains. Threatening messages continued to be sent to Sechele, ordering him to surrender himself, and to prevent English traders from passing through his country, or selling fire-arms to his people. On one occasion Livingstone was told by Mr. Potgeiter, a leading Dutchman, that he would attack any tribe that might receive a native teacher. Livingstone was so thoroughly identified with the natives that it became the desire of the colonists to get rid of him and all his belongings, and complaints were made of him to the Colonial Government as a dangerous person that ought not to be let alone.
All this made it very clear to Livingstone that his favorite plan of planting native teachers to the eastward could not be carried into effect, at least for the present. His disappointment in this was only another link in the chain of causes that gave to the latter part of his life so unlooked-for but glorious a destination. It set him to inquire whether in some other direction he might not find a sphere for planting native teachers which the jealousy of the Boers prevented in the east.
Before we set out with him on the northward journeys, to which he was led partly by the hostility of the Boers in the east, and partly by the very distressing failure of rain at Kolobeng, a few extracts may be given from a record of the period entitled “A portion of a Journal lost in the destruction of Kolobeng (September, 1853) by the Boers of Pretorius.” Livingstone appears to have kept journals from an early period of his life with characteristic care and neatness; but that ruthless and most atrocious raid of the Boers, which we shall have to notice hereafter, deprived him of all them up to that date. The treatment of his books on that occasion was one of the most exasperating of his trials. Had they been burned or carried off he would have minded it less; but it was unspeakably provoking to hear of them lying about with handfuls of leaves torn out of them, or otherwise mutilated and destroyed. From the wreck of his journals the only part saved was a few pages containing notes of some occurrences in 1848-49:
“_May_ 20, 1848.–Spoke to Sechele of the evil of trusting in medicines instead of God. He felt afraid to dispute on the subject, and said he would give up all medicine if I only told him to do so. I was gratified to see symptoms of tender conscience. May God enlighten him!
“_July 10th_.–Entered new house on 4th curt. A great mercy. Hope it may be more a house of prayer than any we have yet inhabited.
“_Sunday, August_ 6.–Sechele remained as a spectator at the celebration of the Lord’s Supper, and when we retired he asked me how he ought to act with reference to his superfluous wives, as he greatly desired to conform to the will of Christ, be baptized, and observe his ordinances. Advised him to do according to what he saw written in God’s Book, but to treat them gently, for they had sinned in ignorance, and if driven away hastily might be lost eternally.
“_Sept_. 1.–Much opposition, but none manifested to us as individuals. Some, however, say it was a pity the lion did not kill me at Mabotsa. They curse the chief (Sechele) with very bitter curses, and these come from the mouths of those whom Sechele would formerly have destroyed for a single disrespectful word. The truth will, by the aid of the Spirit of God, ultimately prevail.
“_Oct_. 1.–Sechele baptized; also Setefano.
“_Nov_.–Long for rains. Everything languishes during the intense heat; and successive droughts having only occurred since the Gospel came to the Bakwains, I fear the effect will be detrimental. There is abundance of rain all around us. And yet we, who have our chief at our head in attachment to the Gospel, receive not a drop. Has Satan power over the course of the winds and clouds? Feel afraid he will obtain an advantage over us, but must be resigned entirely to the Divine will.
“_Nov_. 27.–O Devil! Prince of the power of the air, art thou hindering us? Greater is He who is for us than all who can be against us. I intend to proceed with Paul to Mokhatla’s. He feels much pleased with the prospect of forming a new station. May God Almighty bless the poor unworthy effort! Mebalwe’s house finished. Preparing woodwork for Paul’s house.
“_Dec._ 16.–Passed by invitation to Hendrick Potgeiter. Opposed to building a school…. Told him if he hindered the Gospel the blood of these people would be required at his hand. He became much excited at this.
“_Dec._ 17.–Met Dr. Robertson, of Swellendam. Very friendly. Boers very violently opposed…. Went to Pilanies. Had large attentive audiences at two villages when on the way home. Paul and I looked for a ford in a dry river. Found we had got a she black rhinoceros between us and the wagon, which was only twenty yards off. She had calved during the night–a little red beast like a dog. She charged the wagon, split a spoke and a felloe with her horn, and then left. Paul and I jumped into a rut, as the guns were in the wagon.”
The black rhinoceros is one of the most dangerous of the wild beasts of Africa, and travelers stand in great awe of it. The courage of Dr. Livingstone in exposing himself to the risk of such animals on this missionary tour was none the less that he himself says not a word regarding it; but such courage was constantly shown by him. The following instances are given on the authority of Dr. Moffat as samples of what was habitual to Dr. Livingstone in the performance of his duty.
In going through a wood, a party of hunters were startled by the appearance of a black rhinoceros. The furious beast dashed at the wagon, and drove his horn into the bowels of the driver, inflicting a frightful wound. A messenger was despatched in the greatest haste for Dr. Livingstone, whose house was eight or ten miles distant. The messenger in his eagerness ran the whole way. Livingstone’s friends were horror-struck at the idea of his riding through the wood at night, exposed to the rhinoceros and other deadly beasts. “No, no; you must not think of it, Livingstone; it is certain death.” Livingstone believed it was a Christian duty to try to save the poor fellow’s life, and he resolved to go, happen what might. Mounting his horse, he rode to the scene of the accident. The man had died, and the wagon had left, so that there was nothing for Livingstone but to return and run the risk of the forest anew, without even the hope that he might be useful in saving life.
Another time, when he and a brother missionary were on a tour a long way from home, a messenger came to tell his companion that one of his children was alarmingly ill. It was but natural for him to desire Livingstone to go back with him. The way lay over a road infested by lions. Livingstone’s life would be in danger; moreover, as we have seen, he was intensely desirous to examine the fossil bones at the place. But when his friend expressed the desire for him to go, he went without hesitation. His firm belief in Providence sustained him in these as in so many other dangers.
Medical practice was certainly not made easier by what happened to some of his packages from England. Writing to his father-in-law, Mr. Moffat