The family of Livingstones or Livingstons—for David Livingstone himself spelt his name for many years without the final “e”—came from the Island of Ulva off the coast of Argyllshire. Not much of interest is known about them except that one of them died at Culloden fighting for the Stuarts; so that the “fighting blood” in their veins9 had its way with them before David’s more immediate10 kinsmen11 crossed the seas to the Peninsula. The most distinguished12 member{3} of the family inherited the Highlander’s daring and love of exploits combined with the most pacific spirit, and left behind him an unstained record as an explorer who never lifted his hand to do hurt to anyone through all the perils13 of his adventurous14 career. Towards the close of the eighteenth century his grandfather had crossed from Ulva and settled in Blantyre, a village on the Clyde that had certainly no romantic attraction. He was employed in a cotton factory there. Most of his sons went off to the wars; but one of them, Neil, settled in Blantyre as a dealer15 in tea. He had been previously16 apprenticed18 to David Hunter, a tailor; and, as many a good apprentice19 has done before him, married his master’s daughter. Neil Livingstone and his brave wife had a hard fight of it to make a living out of a small tea business, and to educate and rear their children. Two of the children died in infancy20; but three sons and two daughters grew up in that humble21 home. David was the second son. He was born on March 19th, 1813.{4}
The small struggling tradesman has had little justice done to him either by the novelist or by common repute. He is usually represented as a man who cannot afford to keep a soul, and whose interests are limited to sordid22 and petty transactions across a counter, not always nor often of a scrupulous23 and honourable24 character. The reputation is very ill-deserved. The small shop has proved itself as good a training ground as any other for scholars, and saints and heroes; and, but for the fact that our prejudices die hard, we should recognise that it is so. Neil Livingstone and his wife may have lived a narrow life, serving faithfully their customers and dividing their interests between their family, their business, and the little Independent Chapel25 of which Neil Livingstone was a Deacon. But they found their sphere large enough for the practice of the fundamental Christian6 virtues26, as well as for the noblest of all interests—the interest in the progress of the Kingdom of God throughout the world. There was one family tradition of which David Livingstone{5} was immensely proud. A saying had come down to them attributed to an ancestor that in all the family history there was no record of any dishonest man. When Deacon Neil Livingstone and his wife had passed away, the epitaph on their grave recorded the gratitude27 of their children for “poor and honest parents.” In this simple and public fashion they expressed their thanks for the honesty of one who, when he sold a pound of tea, gave neither short weight, nor an adulterated article. They also gave thanks for the poverty of their parents, recognising in poverty one of those hard but kind necessities that make for industry and courage and patience; and that the children of the poor oftener leave the world their debtor28 for serviceable activities than the children of the well-to-do, who have less spur to their ambitions. It was eminently29 characteristic of David Livingstone that he should thus avow30 his thanks for the honesty and poverty of his father and mother. There are those still living who recall the manly31 pride with which he was wont32 to{6} refer to “my own order, the honest poor.”
The mother of David Livingstone was a woman of great charm and force of character—“a delicate little woman, with a wonderful flow of good spirits.” In her, rare devoutness33 and sterling34 common sense were combined. She was the careful and thrifty35 housewife, who had to make every sixpence go as far as possible; but she was remembered for her unfailing cheerfulness and serenity36, and there was always something to be saved out of the meagre income when the work of the Church of Christ needed extra support. She came of Covenanting37 stock, and her father, David Hunter, the tailor, received his first religious impressions at an open-air service, held while the snow was falling fast, and used to tell that so absorbed was he in the realisation of the truth of the Gospel, that, though before the end of the sermon the snow was ankle-deep, he had no sensation of cold. He lived to be eighty-seven, was a close and prolific38 reader, bore severe reverses of fortune with unflinching{7} courage, and earned the high respect of the countryside.
It is impossible to exaggerate what David Livingstone owed to the stock from which he sprang and the bracing39 influences of his early environment. There were two drawbacks to his home education. It seems that the Deacon had put two classes of book on his private index expurgatorius, as being dangerous—novels, and books of science. So far as novels are concerned the harm done was probably slight; for no one is well-read in the Bible and the Pilgrim’s Progress without receiving a liberal education, and the cultivation40 of the imagination; while history, biography, books of travel, and missionary41 records amply served the same purpose. But the proscription42 of books of science was an evidence of the old evil creed43 that there is essential antagonism44 between science and religion. This assumption came near to doing David permanent injury. His religious difficulties did not disappear until in his own words “having lighted on those admirable works{8} of Dr. Thomas Dick, ‘The Philosophy of Religion,’ and ‘The Philosophy of a Future State’ it was gratifying to find that he had enforced my own conviction that religion and science were friendly to one another.” Few people in the nineteenth century were destined45 to do more towards the practical reconciliation46 of science and religion than David Livingstone.
It is interesting to find that even in his very young days he had a mind and will of his own, and that not even the love and respect he felt for his father could shake his own conviction of truth. The last time his father “applied47 the rod” was when David refused to read “Wilberforce’s Practical Christianity.” The boy thought the matter over in his canny48 Scotch49 way, and concluded that, on the whole, the rod was the less severe form of punishment. So he took the rod, and refused a religious book for which he had no use. Looking back upon his own religious development in after years, he used to confess that at this stage he was “colour-blind.” When he was led{9} to see that God and Nature are “not at strife,” and that God does not say one thing to the theologian and its contrary to the scientist, he accepted in his own simple and sincere way the Christian Gospel, and drew from it the same splendid faith in the universality of the Kingdom of God that inspired the souls of the first apostles. To David Livingstone, to become a Christian was to become in spirit and desire a missionary. It is only necessary to add that the faith which he accepted with the full consent of heart and mind as a lad in Blantyre was the faith in which he died.
The days of David Livingstone’s boyhood were great days for missions. The churches were everywhere awakening50 to their opportunity and responsibility. A new “Acts of the Apostles” was being written. Letters from remote parts of the world, where the ancient battle between Christ and heathenism was being fought out anew, were eagerly read and deeply pondered. The romance and heroism51 of the majestic52 campaign captured and kindled{10} both young and old. The year of Livingstone’s birth was a year of singular triumph in the South Seas. It was the year when his great countryman Robert Morrison completed his translation of the New Testament53 into Chinese. When he was some six or seven years old, another famous Scotch missionary, Robert Moffat, was settling on the Kuruman; and Mrs. Moffat bore in her arms a baby girl destined to become David Livingstone’s wife. The life of Henry Martyn was a supreme54 call to consecration55; while the story of the heroes and heroines of the Moravian missions was almost as familiar in that humble Scottish home as the history of the Apostle Paul.
A specially56 powerful influence in moving Livingstone to his life-decision was the appeal of Charles Gutzlaff for medical missionaries57 for China.
Livingstone was a born naturalist58; and despite his father’s old-fashioned prejudices, he made himself a scientist at a very early age, searching old quarries59 for the shells in the{11} carboniferous limestone60, “scouring Clyde-side for simples,” and arranging the flora61 of the district in botanical order. These expeditions were often very prolonged, and involved the endurance of fatigue62 and hunger; but the lad could not be discouraged. Unconsciously he was bracing himself physically63 for the toils64 and tasks of after years. There is a fine story about the revenge he took upon his native African escort, on one occasion, who had been misguided enough to talk disrespectfully about his slim figure and shortness of stature65. Thereupon, Livingstone took them along for two or three days at the top of their speed till they cried out for mercy! He had not scoured66 Clyde-side for simples for nothing. His fearlessness is well illustrated67 in his daring and reckless exploit of climbing the ruins of Bothwell Castle, so that he might carve his name higher than any other boy had carved his. There, too, was the childlike ambition, which remained with him to the end, to do something which nobody else could surpass. “No one,” he wrote at{12} the very end of his life, on his last expedition, “will cut me out after this exploration is accomplished68.” Then he adds finely, “and may the good Lord of all help me to show myself one of his stout-hearted servants, an honour to my children, and perhaps to my country and race.” The story of Livingstone is told there: it is the story of one of the good Lord’s stout-hearted servants.
All the drudgery69 and hardship of his lot went to make him the man he was. The days of his boyhood were “the good old days”—the days when children of ten years old were sent to work in the factories; and David went with the rest. No eight hours’ day his! No humane70 legislature thought it wise and well to forbid or curtail71 child labour. From six o’clock in the morning till eight o’clock at night he worked as a piecer; and all the world knows how he used to place the book he was studying on a portion of the spinning-jenny, and snatch a sentence or two as he passed at his work. He tells us he thus kept “a pretty constant study, undisturbed by the roar of machinery,” and that this habit of concentration stood him in good stead in after years when he wanted to read and write even “amidst the dancing and song of savages72.” As if this were not enough, after a fourteen hours’ day in the factory he would go off to a night-school provided by the employers; and then home to work at his Latin till “mother put out the candle.” It is well for ten-year-old humanity when it has a mother to put out the candle, or Mother Nature might have put out another candle, and where would Africa have been then? Nine years of such severe and determined73 work as this brought him to University age; and as Glasgow University was hard by, and as he was promoted to be a spinner by this time and able to earn enough in the summer to keep him during the other six months, he entered as a student for Greek and medicine, and seems to have successfully schemed to attend some Divinity lectures even in the summer months. The Scotch Universities are the paradise of poor and struggling students who have more brains and character than bawbees: but the{15} education was not free in those days. The money for fees had to be pinched and scraped; but it was found somehow, and in the early winter of 1836, David and his father walked to the city from Blantyre and trudged74 the streets of Glasgow all day, with the snow upon the ground, till at last they found a room in “Rotten Row” that could be had for two shillings a week. Lodged75 thus as cheaply as could be managed, he applied himself with all his unfailing diligence and zest76 to learn Greek and medicine, as well as to such theological studies as could be undertaken under the leadership of the Rev17. Dr. Wardlaw—one of Glasgow’s most famous divines—who trained men for the Congregational ministry77, and for whom Livingstone had a great admiration78.
During his second session at Glasgow (1837-8) David Livingstone came to the most fateful decision of his life. He decided79 to offer himself to one of the Missionary Societies for foreign service. He chose the London Missionary Society because of his sympathy{16} with the catholicity of its basis. It existed “to send neither Episcopacy, nor Presbyterianism, nor Independency to the heathen, but the Gospel of Christ.” “This,” said Livingstone “exactly agreed with my ideas.” He was a member of a Congregational church, and the London Missionary Society has always been in the main supported by these churches. But the Society was founded by Evangelical churchmen and prominent Presbyterians, as well as by Congregationalists, and nothing appealed more to Livingstone than this union of Christian people in the service of an un-Christian world.
In due course the acceptance of his offer arrived, and in the early autumn of 1838 he travelled to London, where he was to appear before the Mission Board at 57 Aldersgate Street. One can imagine that, apart altogether from the momentous character of his visit, and the anxiety he must have felt as to his acceptance by the Directors, this first visit to London must have been a most impressive one to the young Scotsman. He{17} heard many distinguished preachers, and visited the famous sites of London. Among other places, he went with a companion to Westminster Abbey. It is a thrilling thought, as Mr. Thomas Hughes reminds us, that he was never known to enter that Abbey again until his remains80 were borne thither81 amid the lamentations of the whole civilised world, and all the honours that the living can ever pay to the dead.
The examination by the Directors was satisfactory; and according to the custom of the time Livingstone was committed for a short period of probation82 to the tutorship of the Rev. Richard Cecil, the minister of the little town of Chipping Ongar in Essex. There he was expected to give proof of his preaching ministry, with what result is generally known. He was sent one Sunday evening to preach in the village of Stanford Rivers, where the tradition of Livingstone’s first effort at preaching is still cherished. The raw, somewhat heavy-looking Scotch youth, to whom public speech was always a difficulty, gave out his text “very{18} deliberately83.” That was all the congregation got. The sermon composed on the text had fled, owing to the nervous embarrassment84 produced by a handful of people in a village chapel. “Friends,” said the youth, “I have forgotten all I had to say”—“and hurrying out of the pulpit he left the chapel.” I have no doubt that “hurrying” is the right word. Never was failure more absolute. It is hardly to be wondered at that the Rev. Richard Cecil reported to the Directors his fears that Livingstone had mistaken his vocation85. It was a risk to send someone to preach to the heathen who might possibly forget what he had come to say when he arrived. Moreover, criticism was made of his extreme slowness and hesitancy in prayer. Yet the man who was nearly rejected by the Society on this account, died on his knees in the heart of Africa, while all the world was awed86 by the thought that David Livingstone passed away in the act of prayer. As it was his probation was extended, and at the end of another two months he was finally accepted, and went up{19} to London to continue his medical studies in the London Hospitals. One of the most striking things ever written about him was by the celebrated87 Dr. Isaac Taylor, of Ongar. “Now after nearly forty years,” he writes, “I remember his step, the characteristic forward tread, firm, simple, resolute88, neither fast nor slow, no hurry and no dawdle89, but which evidently meant—getting there!” In November, 1840, he was able to return to Glasgow, and qualify as a Licentiate of the Faculty90 of Physicians and Surgeons; and a few days later he said goodbye to the old folks at home, one of whom—his father—he was never to see on earth again. On November 20th he was ordained91 at Albion Chapel, London, and three weeks later he sailed on the “George” to Algoa Bay in South Africa. One chapter in his memorable92 life was now definitely closed. Among the memories in it there are few if any that he cherished more than that of his old Sunday School teacher, David Hogg, who sent for him as he lay dying and said, “Now lad, make religion the every-day business of{20} your life, and not a thing of fits and starts, for if you do, temptation and other things will get the better of you.” It is hardly too much to say that the old man’s death-bed counsel became the watchword of his life.
点击收听单词发音
1 momentous | |
adj.重要的,重大的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 titanic | |
adj.巨人的,庞大的,强大的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 bloodiest | |
adj.血污的( bloody的最高级 );流血的;屠杀的;残忍的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 warfare | |
n.战争(状态);斗争;冲突 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 peril | |
n.(严重的)危险;危险的事物 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 countless | |
adj.无数的,多得不计其数的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 overthrow | |
v.推翻,打倒,颠覆;n.推翻,瓦解,颠覆 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 veins | |
n.纹理;矿脉( vein的名词复数 );静脉;叶脉;纹理 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 kinsmen | |
n.家属,亲属( kinsman的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 perils | |
极大危险( peril的名词复数 ); 危险的事(或环境) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 adventurous | |
adj.爱冒险的;惊心动魄的,惊险的,刺激的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 dealer | |
n.商人,贩子 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 previously | |
adv.以前,先前(地) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 rev | |
v.发动机旋转,加快速度 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 apprenticed | |
学徒,徒弟( apprentice的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 apprentice | |
n.学徒,徒弟 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 infancy | |
n.婴儿期;幼年期;初期 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 sordid | |
adj.肮脏的,不干净的,卑鄙的,暗淡的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 scrupulous | |
adj.审慎的,小心翼翼的,完全的,纯粹的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 honourable | |
adj.可敬的;荣誉的,光荣的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 chapel | |
n.小教堂,殡仪馆 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 virtues | |
美德( virtue的名词复数 ); 德行; 优点; 长处 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 debtor | |
n.借方,债务人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 eminently | |
adv.突出地;显著地;不寻常地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 avow | |
v.承认,公开宣称 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 manly | |
adj.有男子气概的;adv.男子般地,果断地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 wont | |
adj.习惯于;v.习惯;n.习惯 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 devoutness | |
朝拜 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 sterling | |
adj.英币的(纯粹的,货真价实的);n.英国货币(英镑) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 thrifty | |
adj.节俭的;兴旺的;健壮的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 serenity | |
n.宁静,沉着,晴朗 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
37 covenanting | |
v.立约,立誓( covenant的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
38 prolific | |
adj.丰富的,大量的;多产的,富有创造力的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
39 bracing | |
adj.令人振奋的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
40 cultivation | |
n.耕作,培养,栽培(法),养成 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
41 missionary | |
adj.教会的,传教(士)的;n.传教士 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
42 proscription | |
n.禁止,剥夺权利 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
43 creed | |
n.信条;信念,纲领 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
44 antagonism | |
n.对抗,敌对,对立 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
45 destined | |
adj.命中注定的;(for)以…为目的地的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
46 reconciliation | |
n.和解,和谐,一致 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
47 applied | |
adj.应用的;v.应用,适用 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
48 canny | |
adj.谨慎的,节俭的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
49 scotch | |
n.伤口,刻痕;苏格兰威士忌酒;v.粉碎,消灭,阻止;adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
50 awakening | |
n.觉醒,醒悟 adj.觉醒中的;唤醒的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
51 heroism | |
n.大无畏精神,英勇 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
52 majestic | |
adj.雄伟的,壮丽的,庄严的,威严的,崇高的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
53 testament | |
n.遗嘱;证明 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
54 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
55 consecration | |
n.供献,奉献,献祭仪式 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
56 specially | |
adv.特定地;特殊地;明确地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
57 missionaries | |
n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
58 naturalist | |
n.博物学家(尤指直接观察动植物者) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
59 quarries | |
n.(采)石场( quarry的名词复数 );猎物(指鸟,兽等);方形石;(格窗等的)方形玻璃v.从采石场采得( quarry的第三人称单数 );从(书本等中)努力发掘(资料等);在采石场采石 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
60 limestone | |
n.石灰石 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
61 flora | |
n.(某一地区的)植物群 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
62 fatigue | |
n.疲劳,劳累 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
63 physically | |
adj.物质上,体格上,身体上,按自然规律 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
64 toils | |
网 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
65 stature | |
n.(高度)水平,(高度)境界,身高,身材 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
66 scoured | |
走遍(某地)搜寻(人或物)( scour的过去式和过去分词 ); (用力)刷; 擦净; 擦亮 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
67 illustrated | |
adj. 有插图的,列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
68 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
69 drudgery | |
n.苦工,重活,单调乏味的工作 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
70 humane | |
adj.人道的,富有同情心的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
71 curtail | |
vt.截短,缩短;削减 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
72 savages | |
未开化的人,野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
73 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
74 trudged | |
vt.& vi.跋涉,吃力地走(trudge的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
75 lodged | |
v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 );暂住;埋入;(权利、权威等)归属 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
76 zest | |
n.乐趣;滋味,风味;兴趣 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
77 ministry | |
n.(政府的)部;牧师 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
78 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
79 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
80 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
81 thither | |
adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
82 probation | |
n.缓刑(期),(以观后效的)察看;试用(期) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
83 deliberately | |
adv.审慎地;蓄意地;故意地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
84 embarrassment | |
n.尴尬;使人为难的人(事物);障碍;窘迫 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
85 vocation | |
n.职业,行业 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
86 awed | |
adj.充满敬畏的,表示敬畏的v.使敬畏,使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
87 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
88 resolute | |
adj.坚决的,果敢的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
89 dawdle | |
vi.浪费时间;闲荡 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
90 faculty | |
n.才能;学院,系;(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
91 ordained | |
v.任命(某人)为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 );授予(某人)圣职;(上帝、法律等)命令;判定 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
92 memorable | |
adj.值得回忆的,难忘的,特别的,显著的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |