As we have seen, Livingstone said farewell to Stanley on March 14th, 1872; and prepared to wait in Unyanyembe until his friend had reached Zanzibar, and sent a body of picked natives back to act as his escort. In his diary he makes careful reckonings as to the length of time this will mean, and concludes that he cannot expect his men until July 15th. It was August 14th before they arrived. He had to wait five weary months at Unyanyembe; and the lateness of his start brought the wet weather near, and handicapped the expedition from the first. We may just stay to record that Stanley’s march to the coast was beset2 with difficulties—“the whole ten plagues of Egypt”—but it was successfully accomplished4, and the men he sent back to Livingstone were of the very{192} best. Stanley encountered at Zanzibar members of an English relief expedition that had been sent out to find and succour Livingstone. Of this expedition, the explorer’s son, Oswell, was a member. After hearing Stanley’s news they decided5 that it was unnecessary to go on, and returned to England.
To the ordinary person five months of waiting would have been almost intolerable. There are signs that even Livingstone had some ado to sit still and count the days. But if they were profitless months to him, and if often he was, as he records, “weary, weary,” the revelations contained in his journal are by no means profitless to us. He has time to write fully3 as to his plans and his motives6. He takes us into his confidence; and we see that he has lost nothing in all these years of that eager curiosity which belonged to him as a boy. He still carries in his breast “the heart of a little child.” The wonderful Ptolemy and the na?ve Herodotus are pondered over; and all the stories of “fountains” and “pillars” awaken7 in the{193} great traveller the desire to test them for himself. He is evidently not sure that there is not something in them after all. He would dearly like to find out. He cannot reconcile Ptolemy with the investigation8 of Baker9, Speke, and Grant; and it has all the delight of a fascinating conundrum10 to him.
April 18th.—“I pray the good Lord of all to favour me so as to allow me to discover the ancient fountains of Herodotus, and if there is anything in the underground excavations11 to confirm the precious old documents (τ? βιβλ?α), the Scriptures12 of truth, may He permit me to bring it to light, and give me wisdom to make a proper use of it.”
On the first of May he records that he has finished a letter to the New York Herald13. This is the letter which concludes with the now world-renowned words upon his tablet in the Abbey—“All I can add in my loneliness is, may Heaven’s rich blessing14 come down on every one—American, English, or Turk—who will help to heal the open sore of the world.” By a{194} coincidence the words were written one year to the very day before the writer’s death.
He meditates15 much on the native faiths. He recognises as the fundamental fact “dependence on a Divine Power,” but “without any conscious feeling of its nature.” He notes also their belief in a continued existence after death, so as to be able to do good to those they love and evil to those they hate.
“I don’t know how the great loving Father will bring all out right at last, but He knows and will do it.” For himself, his confidence is anchored, as it has always been, in the plain word of Christ, the perfect Gentleman.
May 13th.—“He will keep His word, the Gracious One, full of grace and truth—no doubt of it. He said, ‘Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast out,’ and ‘Whatsoever ye shall ask in My name that will I do.’ He will keep His word: then I can come and humbly16 present my petition and it will be all right. Doubt is here inadmissible, surely.{195}”
He is reading Speke’s travels with critical enjoyment17. He spends a page or two in challenging his statement that African mothers sell their own children. He does not believe it. He has never known an instance, nor have the Arabs. He always defends the essential goodness of the natives, and their common human feelings. Then he appeals to the heroism18 of the Church at home to come and help the African people. “I would say to missionaries19, Come on, brethren, to the real heathen. You have no idea how brave you are till you try. Leaving the coast tribes and devoting yourselves heartily20 to the savages21, as they are called, you will find, with some drawbacks and wickednesses, a very great deal to admire and love.” A little later he is arguing that the interior is a tempting22 field for “well-sustained efforts of private benevolence23.” He thinks the missionary24 should make up his mind not to depend upon “foreign support,” and gives instances of his own resourcefulness where he had none to depend on but himself. He is{196} for “a sort of Robinson Crusoe life,” the great object being “to improve the improvable among the natives.” As to method, he writes later, “no jugglery26 or sleight-of-hand ... would have any effect in the civilisation27 of Africans; they have too much good sense for that. Nothing brings them to place thorough confidence in Europeans but a long course of well-doing.... Goodness and unselfishness impress their minds more than any kind of skill or power. They say, ‘You have different hearts from ours.’ ... The prayer to Jesus for a new heart and a right spirit at once commends itself as appropriate.” He notes, too, that music influences them, and often leads to conversion28.
Scattered29 through the journal are his usual keen observations on the animal life and plant life of the district, together with brief narratives30 of tribal32 quarrels and crimes. Again and again he confesses uncertainty33 as to whether he has not been tracing the sources of the Congo rather than the Nile. If he had not had a scientific mind and train{197}ing, he argues that long ere this he would have cried “Eureka!” and gone home with a half-proved hypothesis. But his absolute love of truth forbids.
By the middle of July his men have not come, though he has heard of them as being on the way. He is very tired of the delay; but returns at length to the subject of missions in Africa, and indulges in one passage which clearly shows how his Puritan common-sense never deserted34 him. “A couple of Europeans beginning and carrying on a mission without a staff of foreign attendants implies coarse country fare, it is true, but this would be nothing to those who at home amuse themselves with fasts, vigils, &c.” A great deal of power is thus lost in the Church. Fastings and vigils, without a special object in view, are time run to waste. They are made to minister to a sort of self-gratification, instead of being turned to account for the good of others. They are like groaning35 in sickness. Some people amuse themselves when ill with continuous moaning. The forty days of Lent might be annually36 spent{198} in visiting adjacent tribes and bearing unavoidable hunger and thirst with a good grace. Considering the greatness of the object to be attained37, men might go without sugar, coffee, tea, &c. I went from September, 1866, to December, 1868, without either.”
He gives us also a vivid summary of his impressions of the slave system, assuring us that “in sober seriousness, the subject does not admit of exaggeration. To overdraw38 its evils is a simple impossibility. The sights I have seen, though common incidents of the traffic, are so nauseous that I always try to drive them from memory. In the case of most disagreeable recollections I can succeed, in time, in consigning39 them to oblivion, but the slaving scenes come back unbidden, and make me start up at dead of night horrified40 by their vividness.”
August comes, and still no arrivals. There is a charming description of the African children and their sports and games, followed by observations on the swallows and the spiders. Then he breaks off to{199} exclaim: “That is the atonement of Christ. It is Himself. It is the inherent and everlasting41 mercy of God made apparent to human eyes and ears. The everlasting love was disclosed by our Lord’s life and death. It showed that God forgives because He loves to forgive. He works by smiles, if possible; if not, by frowns. Pain is only a means of enforcing love.”
At last, on August 14th, the miserable43 suspense44 is at an end. The new expedition marches safely into Unyanyembe. Livingstone lifts up his heart in gratitude45 to God. Many of those who have come to help him had marched with Stanley and were well seasoned. Some were Nassick boys from Bombay, among whom were John and Jacob Wainwright. It will never be forgotten how much we owe to the intelligence and courage of the latter. Five only in the new expedition belonged to Livingstone’s “original followers46.” These are Susi, Chumah, Amoda, Mabruki and Gardner. It is much to know that Livingstone was never more loyally and devotedly47 served{200} than during this last march, which was to have so sad a termination and so heroic a sequel.
Ten days were allowed for rest and preparations for departure, which included the setting aside of certain stores to await them on the homeward march. Then, on August 25th, they slipped quietly out of the town of which Livingstone was so weary, and started for the southern part of Tanganyika. We are beginning now the last journey, which ended eight and a half months later, after incredible toils49 and sufferings. It is difficult to estimate the exact length of it, for there were many short diversions. One need only remember that from the middle of September David Livingstone was to all intents and purposes a dying man. The internal h?morrhage began again, and the entry in his diary on September 19th is that for eight days he has eaten nothing. No rest and no medicines have any lasting42 effect upon him after this; and he can scarcely have been out of pain, which frequently amounted to{201} agony. They made their way at first mainly through forest and hilly country, passing from village to village, each day having its burden of travel, its problem of supplies. Livingstone finds the climbing “very sore on legs and lungs.” On the 8th of October his eyes rested once again on the blue waters of Tanganyika. The day heat is very trying. Some of the men are sick; all are tired. “Inwardly I feel tired too.”
They had come to Tanganyika by a circuitous50 route. They now kept to the highlands running south-west, and travelled along the ridge51, 1,000 feet above the lake. He notes that the lake-side is favourable52 for cotton, and admires the glory of the sunsets. The various arms and bays of the lake are carefully observed. The route is still very mountainous, and painfully up and down. October is past before he reaches the part where the lake narrows and becomes what the natives call Lake Liemba. It is slow and weary work around the southern section. The heat is intense. “The sun makes the{202} soil so hot that the radiation is as if it came from a furnace. It burns the feet of the people and knocks them up. Subcutaneous inflammation is frequent in the legs, and makes some of my most hardy53 men useless.” He maintains that walking is better than riding. Suddenly he breaks off his description of the toilsomeness of the journey to set this down:
“The spirit of Missions is the spirit of our Master, the very genesis of His religion. A diffusive54 philanthropy is Christianity itself. It requires perpetual propagation to attest55 its genuineness.”
The day after this he is “ill and losing much blood.” Another disaster is that the large donkey which has borne him from time to time over difficult ground has been badly bitten by tsetse, is now useless, and shortly dies. “It is a great loss to me.”
From the southern extremity56 of the lake they proceeded almost due south, the main difficulty being provided by the Lofu river, over which they built a bridge. A little further south they turned westward57, evidently{203} making for the north of Lake Bangweolo. Many rivers are crossed, and more hilly regions negotiated. Then comes an entry in the journal in so shaky a hand as to be almost undecipherable. It simply tells us that he is ill and camping “in a deserted village.” Yet there is no halting on the march. River after river is crossed; and on December 18th he sees once more his old friend the Kalongosi or Kalongwesé river. “We crossed it in small canoes, and swamped one twice, but no one was lost.” They now march south for the lake. Christmas Day—“our great day”—is cold and wet, but it inspires Livingstone’s thanks to “the good Lord for the good gift of His Son, Christ Jesus our Lord.” He also finds time for some meditations58 on the Blue and the White Nile. The end of the year brings very heavy weather, during which no observations can be taken. One of the men also is taken critically ill and dies. They plant four trees at the corners of the grave.
As the expedition drew near Lake Bangweolo, they came upon a region com{204}posed of “spongy” morass59. The men describe it as endless plunging60 in and out of morasses61, and the effect on their strength and spirits must be conceived. It was terrible work, and Livingstone was spent with chronic62 dysentery. On they went, however, plunging through this horrible country. Yet such alleviations as nature affords are not forgotten. Livingstone enumerates63 all the flowers he sees: the marigolds and the jonquils, the orchids64 and the clematis, the gladioli and the flowering bulbs. He rejoices also to distinguish balsams and “pretty flowery aloes, yellow and red, in one whorl of blossoms.” The world is clearly not forsaken65 that has these tokens of the divine presence.
A week of priceless time was lost in the middle of January owing to the misrepresentations of a chief called Chungu; and all the while they were marching aimlessly over the desperate spongy country. They have to get back to their starting point, and strike eastward66 to make a circuit of the lake. Livingstone has to be carried across many{205} of the morasses and rivers on the shoulders of one or other of his men. The march was at times almost impossible. January 23rd saw them quite lost. No observations could be taken, and it was “rain, rain, rain.” Then came January 24th, and this dramatic entry in the journal:
“Carrying me across one of the broad, deep, sedgy rivers is really a very difficult task. One we crossed was at least 2,000 feet broad. The first part, the main stream, came up to Susi’s mouth, and wetted my seat and legs. One held up my pistol behind, then one after another took a turn, and when he sank into an elephant’s deep footprints he required two to lift him.... Every ten or twelve paces brought us to a clear stream, flowing fast in its own channel, while over all a strong current came bodily through all the rushes and aquatic67 plants. Susi had the first spell; then Farijala; then a tall, stout68, Arab-looking man; then Amoda; then Chanda; then Wadé Salé; and each time I was lifted off bodily and put on another pair of stout, willing shoulders, and fifty yards put them out of breath—no{206} wonder!” We are not surprised to learn that progress is “distressingly slow; wet, wet, wet, sloppy69 weather truly, and no observations.” January closes miserably70. They have no proper guides. “It is drop, drop, drop, and drizzling71 from the north-west.” The country is all froths and sponges. Livingstone loses much blood, but with characteristic optimism expresses the hope that it is a safety-valve, for he has no fever.
The lack of guides is serious. Livingstone reckons they lost half a month now floundering about in this sodden72, depressing country, suffering much hunger; and it is all due to the unfriendliness of some and the fears of others. When guides were ultimately obtained progress was far more speedy and direct; but what the fatigue73 and exposure have meant to the sick man can be best gauged74 by the note in the journal on February 14th, which follows the record of another “excessive h?morrhagic discharge.”
“If the good Lord gives me favour, and permits me to finish my work I shall thank and bless Him, though it costs me untold75 toil,{207} pain and travel; this trip has made my hair all grey.”
Melancholy76 reading as the last month has been, it is perhaps not so heartbreaking as the next. It represents the almost desperate exertions77 of a dying man to get on; yet he is thwarted78 and deceived at every turn. He fixes his hopes on the chief Matipa, and on the 22nd of February sends Susi and Chumah to find him. Matipa appeared to be friendly, and eventually the expedition travels by canoes towards his country. Then they have to cross flooded prairie, and camp on a “miserable, dirty, fishy79 island.” They arrive at last, and Matipa is profuse80 in his promises and plausible81 in his plans. Time was of no value to Matipa. He drowned his cares in “pombe”; but Livingstone is in misery82. Day after day passes, and no promised canoes arrive to carry the expedition westward. By the 18th of March he is convinced that Matipa is “acting the villain83.” The next day is his birthday, and sacred to other thoughts. “Thanks to the Almighty84 Preserver of man for sparing me thus far on{208} the journey of life. Can I hope for ultimate success? So many obstacles have arisen. Let not Satan prevail over me, O my good Lord Jesus!”
Never had he been in worse case. Matipa was false again; and Livingstone took the extreme step, for him, of making a demonstration85 in force, and firing a pistol through the roof of the chiefs house—a movement which resulted in Matipa’s flight. He returned, however, soon after in a chastened frame of mind. Some canoes being available at last, on March 24th Livingstone started with all his goods, his object being to get across the Chambezé. It was an awful journey. Six hours’ punting brought them to a little islet without a tree, and the rain descended86 pitilessly. They got what shelter they could out of an inverted87 canoe, and crouched88 under it. The wind tore the tent and damaged it. The loads were soaked. It was bitterly cold. “A man put my bed into the bilge and never said ‘Bail out,’ so I am safe for a wet night, but it turned out better than I expected.{209}”
“March 28th.—Nothing earthly will make me give up my work in despair. I encourage myself in the Lord my God and go forward.”
The next day sees them across the Chambezé; but progress is extremely slow, and it is April the 5th before the neighbouring river, Lobingela, is passed. Meanwhile, as we learn from a subsequent entry in the diary, his final critical illness has begun. On March 31st, an artery89 began “bleeding profusely90.” Yet he does not dream of resting. The whole country round Lake Bangweolo is a shallow sea. It is impossible to say where the rivers begin and end. Livingstone’s mode of progression is being punted along in a canoe. Further inland there is a marching party struggling along parallel with the canoes. On April 10th, he sets down that he is pale and bloodless. The artery “gives off a copious91 stream and takes away my strength. Oh! how I long to be permitted by the Over Power to finish my work.” The 17th of April witnesses another calamity92, when “a tremendous rain after dark burst all our now rotten tents in shreds93.{210}” He is now utterly94 weak and ill, fighting his complaint with quinine, and trying to believe it is no more than fever. On the 19th, however, he confesses he is “excessively weak, and but for the donkey could not move a hundred yards.” He adds pawkily, “it is not all pleasure this exploration.”
The diary is now painful reading, the writing becomes very shaky, eloquent95 of weakness and pain.
He has service on Sunday, April 20th, as usual.
The last entries are quite short.
“21st April.—Tried to ride but was forced to lie down, and they carried me back to vil., exhausted96.” The fact is that the old hero insisted on being put on his donkey, only to fall to the ground. He was carried back to the halting-place on Chumah’s shoulders.
“22nd April.—Carried on kitanda over Buga, S.W. 2?.” The men made a rude palanquin, covered it with grass and a blanket, and in this way carried the dying chief for two hours and a quarter. They were two and a quarter hours of excruciating agony; and it was a relief to all when a village was reached where a rude hut could be erected97.
The next day was similar. They carried him for another hour and a half. The following day one hour’s journey was all that he, in his extreme emaciation98, could endure. He was too weak now to write anything except the date. On the 25th, they proceeded for an hour, and found themselves among a simple, friendly people. The trend of Livingstone’s thoughts may be gathered by some questions he addressed to the natives. He wanted to know whether they had ever heard of a hill on which four rivers had their rise. They shook their heads, but confessed themselves no travellers. On the following day they still moved on; and Livingstone’s unconquerable hope appeared in the fact that he instructed Susi to buy two large tusks99, because he might be short of goods when they got back to Ujiji, and he could buy cloth of the Arabs with them.{213}
The last entry in the diary, the last words he ever wrote, stand under the date April 27th, 1873:—
“27.—Knocked up quite and remain—recover—sent to buy milch goats.—We are on the banks of the Molilamo.”
He is lying at Kolunganjovu’s town. His one hope is in milk, but the search for milch goats was vain. The whole district had been plundered100 by the Mazitu. He tried to eat a little pounded corn but failed. The 28th was spent in similar vain endeavours to obtain milk. On the 29th the chief, who said “everything should be done for his friend,” offered to escort the caravan101 to the crossing-place, and see them provided with canoes. There was an initial difficulty. Livingstone could not walk to the door of the hut to reach his litter. The wall was opened, and the sick man transferred from his bed to the litter in that way. The narrative31 of his devoted48 men is now most explicit102. It is eloquent alike of the great leader’s fortitude103 and their own unfailing consideration. We need not linger on the{214} details; the agony of lifting him into the canoe, and lifting him out; the journey through “swamps and plashes”; the arrival at Chitambo’s village; the delays in building the hut while he lay “under the broad eaves of a native hut,” and a soft drizzle104 of rain descended. At last the shelter was erected and banked round with earth; the bed was made, raised on sticks and grass; the medicine chest placed on a large box that did duty for a table; and a fire kindled105 outside opposite the door. Just inside the boy Majwara lay down and slept, that he might be at hand if wanted.
The imagination reverently106 dwells on every detail of the scene, for the old hero has made his last journey, and is about to sleep his last sleep. While he was lying on his litter outside, and the rain was falling, curious villagers had gathered round, each man with bow in hand, for they had been guarding their crops. This was the great chief who had come from far. His fame they knew somewhat; they could not know that he was the best friend Africa ever{215} had. They gazed respectfully and wonderingly at the thin, pale, emaciated107 sufferer with the bloodless hands and lips, and the face distorted with sharp throes of agony. Through the falling rain they watched him; and in days to come would tell their children that they had seen Livingstone.
That night passed quietly; and when Chitambo called next day, Livingstone, with unfailing courtesy, received him, though he had to beg the chief to go away and return on the following day, when he hoped to feel stronger. All that morning he lay suffering, his strength gradually ebbing108. In the afternoon he bade Susi bring him his watch, and with great effort he slowly wound it. Night fell at last; and at eleven o’clock Livingstone called Susi. There were noises heard. “Are our men making those noises?” said Livingstone. Susi told him that the villagers were scaring a buffalo109. “Is this the Luapula?” he asked again; and Susi knew that his master was wandering in his mind. How ardently110 he had desired to reach the{216} Luapula through those terrible weeks and months on the sponges and through the floods! When Susi told him where they were, he asked again, “How many days to the Luapula?” “I think it is three days,” said Susi. There was no more except the cry of pain, “Oh, dear, dear!” Then he dozed111. Near midnight he sent for Susi again. This time Livingstone told him to boil some water; and, when Susi had filled the copper112 kettle, he again asked for the medicine chest. The candle had to be held close to him, for his eyes were very dim. But he did just succeed in selecting some calomel, which he wanted to have at his side with a little water in a cup.
Then he said, very faintly, “All right! you can go now.”
These were the last words he was heard to speak. It almost seemed as if a higher Master had said to His tired servant, “All right! You can go now.”
What happened after that is known only to the One who was with him at the last.{217} The boy Majwara slept; and while he slept the miracle happened. For it appeared miraculous113 and incredible to his men, who had seen his utter inability to move himself, that he did actually rise from off that rude couch and did kneel down at the side, his knees probably on the bare soil, and there in the attitude of prayer commended himself to God,
“And his fair soul unto his Captain Christ.”
When the lad Majwara awoke at 4 a.m. and saw the strange sight of his master kneeling thus, he was afraid, and slipped out to warn the others. Susi dared not go in alone. He ran to rouse Chumah, Chowperé, Matthew, and Nuanyaséré. The six stood awestruck at the door of the little hut. On the box a candle was burning. It was just stuck there in its own wax, but it relieved the darkness; and they gazed at the still, bowed form. He was lying, stretched forward across the bed, in the attitude of prayer, his head buried in his hands. None seemed to dare to{218} approach him for a while. Then Matthew, reverently and tremblingly, stretched out his hand and laid it on his master’s cheek. It was quite cold. David Livingstone was dead. It was the morning of the first of May, 1873.
With the death of the hero, most biographies perforce end. In this respect Livingstone’s story is wholly unique. The most thrilling and sensational114 chapter remains115 to be written. Nothing more convincingly illustrates116 Livingstone’s ascendancy117 over his followers than the events which followed his death. It would have been easy for the men to have hurried the body into the ground, divided the property among themselves, and dispersed118 to their homes. Perhaps the last thing to be expected was that they would shoulder the dead body, and carry it from the centre of Africa, more than a thousand miles, through hostile and inhospitable country, to the ocean. Yet this was what they did; while the method, order and reverence119 of their proceedings120 would have done honour to the wisest and most civilised of our race.{219} Let us now see how they faced the duty that had suddenly come to them.
The discovery that Livingstone was dead was made about 4 a.m. The news was carried round at once to all the men; and as soon as day dawned they assembled for conference. The dead man’s possessions were collected, the boxes opened in the presence of all, and Jacob Wainwright made a careful and exact inventory121 on a page of Livingstone’s little metallic122 pocket-book, in which his own last entries had been made. The next business was to appoint Susi and Chumah, the oldest and most experienced of Livingstone’s followers, as leaders of the expedition. All promised to obey their orders; and all kept their word. Fearing lest the native superstitions123 in regard to departed spirits might lead to some outrage124 on the dead body, or that Chitambo might demand some ruinous fine, they decided to conceal125 for the present the fact of the death. In this respect they had misjudged Chitambo, who soon learned what had happened, and proved himself the kindest and most{220} sympathetic of advisers126. All were agreed that the body of Livingstone must be carried back to the coast.
The first practical step, after making the inventory, was a remarkable127 one. Outside Chitambo’s village the men erected a small settlement of their own, fortified128 by a stockade129. Here they built a circular hut, open to the sky, but strong enough to resist any attack of wild beasts, and in this they laid the body of Livingstone. His followers were stationed all round like a guard of honour. It happened that Farijala had once been servant to a Zanzibar doctor, and knew the elementary facts about a post-mortem. With the assistance of a Nassick boy, Carras, he undertook to do what was necessary. Certain rites25 of mourning having been performed, and volleys fired, a screen was held over these men while they did their work. The heart and viscera were removed, placed in a tin box, and reverently buried four feet in the ground, while Jacob Wainwright read the Burial Service from the English Prayer Book. The body was then dried in sun for fourteen{221} days. So emaciated was it that there was little more than skin and bone. For coffin130, they stripped the bark off a Myonga tree “in one piece”; the corpse131 was carefully enveloped132 in calico and inserted in the bark cylinder133. The whole was sewn up in a piece of sail-cloth and lashed134 to a pole, so that it could be carried on the men’s shoulders. Then Jacob Wainwright carved Livingstone’s name and the date of his death on the tree standing135 near where the body rested. Chitambo was charged to keep the ground free from grass lest bush-fires should burn the tree. Finally they erected two strong posts, with a cross beam, and covered them thoroughly136 with tar1, so that the spot might be definitely identified. They seem to have forgotten nothing that could be done to keep in perpetual memory the place where Livingstone breathed his last.
The line of march determined137 on was up the west coast of Lake Bangweolo and across the Luapula River; then north-eastward till they struck the route by which they had come from Unyanyembe. It seemed at the outset as if all their hopes were to be{222} frustrated138. In three days half the expedition were down with fever. Two women died. Susi became critically ill and could not move. They were delayed a whole month, and only started again to break down once more. It was not till they had crossed the great Luapula River—four miles broad—that things went better with them. Near where the River Liposhosi flows into the lake at Chawendes village, the expedition was unfortunately brought into active conflict with the chief and his tribe, and a regular affray took place in which blood was shed and many native houses burned. It is probable that a calmer and stronger leadership might have averted139 this; but it was proof of the determination of the devoted band to defend their precious burden with their lives. After this, the march was, on the whole, a favourable and peaceful one. They turned north towards Tanganyika, but, profiting by previous experience, gave the lake itself a wide berth140, keeping well to the east, and traveling far more easily than Livingstone had done owing to the fact that they largely avoided the mountainous region. Everywhere the news of Livingstone’s death had preceded them; and they were made aware that a party of Englishmen was at Unyanyembe awaiting their arrival. Jacob Wainwright wrote down the story as we know it, and Chumah hurried on by forced marches to deliver it to the Englishmen in question, who turned out to be Lieutenant141 Cameron, Dr. Dillon, and Lieutenant Murphy, members of a search expedition. To them, on October 20th, 1873, Chumah brought the news, and soon afterwards the gallant142 band arrived and delivered all Livingstone’s belongings143 intact to his fellow-countrymen. Lieutenant Cameron was decidedly in favour of burying the body in African soil; he also took the liberty of appropriating most of Livingstone’s instruments to the use of his expedition. This latter act the men were powerless to resist, but in regard to the former they were not to be moved. It was useless to argue with them as to the dis{225}turbed district between Unyanyembe and the coast. They had made up their minds that the great Doctor must “go home.” Lieutenant Murphy and Dr. Dillon decided to return to Zanzibar with them, and the former does not appear to have been a very amicable144 companion. Dr. Dillon’s tragic145 fate is well known. Seized with fever on the journey, he went out of his mind and committed suicide.
One further incident has to be recorded illustrative of the resolution and ingenuity146 of the members of the expedition. Near Kasekera matters developed threateningly, and the men became convinced that there would be growing hostility147 along the route to the passage of a dead body. They accordingly resorted to a ruse148. They unpacked149 the body, and repacked it to look like an ordinary bale of goods. Then they filled the old cylinder with sticks and grasses, and solemnly despatched six men back to Unyanyembe to bury it! Needless to say that as soon as these men got well into the jungle they disposed of their burden, and{226} rejoined the main caravan by devious150 routes. So well did every man keep his counsel, that it was believed henceforth that ordinary merchandise was being carried to Zanzibar. On February 15th, 1874, their sacred charge was fulfilled, and their precious burden, so jealously and triumphantly151 preserved, was handed over to the possession of the British Consul152 at Bagamoio on the coast. The Calcutta transferred the remains to Aden, and the P. and O. steamer Malwa carried them thence to Southampton, where on April 15th a special train was in waiting to convey them to London. That evening they were deposited in the rooms of the Geographical153 Society in Savile Row, and examined by Sir William Fergusson and other medical gentlemen. The “oblique fracture” of the arm which had been broken by the lion so many years before, and the false joint154 that had resulted, provided ample identification of the remains. On Saturday, April 18th, they were borne through the crowded streets of the capital to Westminster Abbey and deposited in the centre of the nave155. Among the pall-bearers{227} were several who had been closely identified with the great explorer—Mr. Stanley, Dr. Kirk, Mr. Webb, Mr. Oswell, Mr. Young, and not least Jacob Wainwright, the Nassick boy. In the vast congregation there was no nobler, or more striking figure than Livingstone’s father-in-law, the veteran Dr. Moffat, the father of her who “sleeps on Shupanga brae, and beeks forenent the sun.” No grave in the famous Abbey is more frequently asked for by visitors than his. It makes its solemn appeal to the world year after year, for the plain slab156 is extraordinarily157 happy in its inscription:—
Brought by faithful hands
Over land and sea,
Here Rests
David Livingstone,
Missionary, Traveller, Philanthropist.
Born March 19, 1813,
At Blantyre, Lanarkshire.
Died May 4th,[A] 1873,
At Chitambo’s Village, Ilala.
[A] There appears to be a conflict of evidence as to the date of Livingstone’s death. Whilst the Diary gives the date as the 1st of May, that on the grave in Westminster Abbey is the 4th.{228}
For thirty years his life was spent
in an unwearied effort to evangelise
the native races, to explore the
undiscovered secrets,
And abolish the desolating158 slave-trade
of Central Africa, where, with
his last words, he wrote:
“All I can say in my solitude159 is,
may Heaven’s rich blessing come
down on every one—American,
English, Turk—who will help to
heal the open sore of the world.”
Along the right border of the stone the happily-chosen words:—
Tantus amor veri, nihil est quod
noscere malim
Quam fluvii causas,
per saecula tanta latentes.
And along the left border,
“Other sheep I have which are
not of this fold, them also I must
bring, and they shall hear my
voice.”
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
tar
|
|
| n.柏油，焦油；vt.涂或浇柏油/焦油于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
beset
|
|
| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
accomplished
|
|
| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
motives
|
|
| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
awaken
|
|
| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
investigation
|
|
| n.调查，调查研究 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
baker
|
|
| n.面包师 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
conundrum
|
|
| n.谜语；难题 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
excavations
|
|
| n.挖掘( excavation的名词复数 )；开凿；开凿的洞穴（或山路等）；（发掘出来的）古迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
scriptures
|
|
| 经文，圣典( scripture的名词复数 )； 经典 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
herald
|
|
| vt.预示...的来临，预告，宣布，欢迎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
blessing
|
|
| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
meditates
|
|
| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的第三人称单数 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
humbly
|
|
| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
heroism
|
|
| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
missionaries
|
|
| n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
heartily
|
|
| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
savages
|
|
| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
tempting
|
|
| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
benevolence
|
|
| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
missionary
|
|
| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
rites
|
|
| 仪式，典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
jugglery
|
|
| n.杂耍，把戏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
civilisation
|
|
| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
conversion
|
|
| n.转化，转换，转变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
narratives
|
|
| 记叙文( narrative的名词复数 )； 故事； 叙述； 叙述部分 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
narrative
|
|
| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
tribal
|
|
| adj.部族的，种族的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
uncertainty
|
|
| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
groaning
|
|
| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
annually
|
|
| adv.一年一次，每年 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
attained
|
|
| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
overdraw
|
|
| n.透支，超支 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
consigning
|
|
| v.把…置于（令人不快的境地）( consign的现在分词 )；把…托付给；把…托人代售；丟弃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
horrified
|
|
| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
everlasting
|
|
| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
lasting
|
|
| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
suspense
|
|
| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
gratitude
|
|
| adj.感激，感谢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
followers
|
|
| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
devotedly
|
|
| 专心地； 恩爱地； 忠实地； 一心一意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
toils
|
|
| 网 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
circuitous
|
|
| adj.迂回的路的，迂曲的，绕行的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
ridge
|
|
| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
favourable
|
|
| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
hardy
|
|
| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
diffusive
|
|
| adj.散布性的，扩及的，普及的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
attest
|
|
| vt.证明，证实；表明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
extremity
|
|
| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
westward
|
|
| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
meditations
|
|
| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
morass
|
|
| n.沼泽，困境 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
plunging
|
|
| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
morasses
|
|
| n.缠作一团( morass的名词复数 )；困境；沼泽；陷阱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
62
chronic
|
|
| adj.(疾病)长期未愈的，慢性的；极坏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
enumerates
|
|
| v.列举，枚举，数( enumerate的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
orchids
|
|
| n.兰花( orchid的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
Forsaken
|
|
| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
eastward
|
|
| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
aquatic
|
|
| adj.水生的，水栖的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
sloppy
|
|
| adj.邋遢的，不整洁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
miserably
|
|
| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
drizzling
|
|
| 下蒙蒙细雨，下毛毛雨( drizzle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
sodden
|
|
| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
fatigue
|
|
| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
gauged
|
|
| adj.校准的；标准的；量规的；量计的v.（用仪器）测量( gauge的过去式和过去分词 )；估计；计量；划分 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
untold
|
|
| adj.数不清的，无数的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
exertions
|
|
| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
thwarted
|
|
| 阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
fishy
|
|
| adj. 值得怀疑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
profuse
|
|
| adj.很多的，大量的，极其丰富的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
plausible
|
|
| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
misery
|
|
| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
villain
|
|
| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
almighty
|
|
| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
demonstration
|
|
| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
inverted
|
|
| adj.反向的，倒转的v.使倒置，使反转( invert的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
crouched
|
|
| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
artery
|
|
| n.干线，要道；动脉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
profusely
|
|
| ad.abundantly | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
copious
|
|
| adj.丰富的，大量的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
calamity
|
|
| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
shreds
|
|
| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
eloquent
|
|
| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
ERECTED
|
|
| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
emaciation
|
|
| n.消瘦，憔悴，衰弱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
tusks
|
|
| n.（象等动物的）长牙( tusk的名词复数 )；獠牙；尖形物；尖头 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
plundered
|
|
| 掠夺，抢劫( plunder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
caravan
|
|
| n.大蓬车；活动房屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
explicit
|
|
| adj.详述的，明确的；坦率的；显然的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
fortitude
|
|
| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
drizzle
|
|
| v.下毛毛雨；n.毛毛雨，蒙蒙细雨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
kindled
|
|
| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
reverently
|
|
| adv.虔诚地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
emaciated
|
|
| adj.衰弱的，消瘦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
ebbing
|
|
| （指潮水）退( ebb的现在分词 )； 落； 减少； 衰落 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
buffalo
|
|
| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
ardently
|
|
| adv.热心地，热烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
dozed
|
|
| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
copper
|
|
| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
miraculous
|
|
| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
sensational
|
|
| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
illustrates
|
|
| 给…加插图( illustrate的第三人称单数 )； 说明； 表明； （用示例、图画等）说明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
ascendancy
|
|
| n.统治权，支配力量 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
dispersed
|
|
| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
reverence
|
|
| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
proceedings
|
|
| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
inventory
|
|
| n.详细目录，存货清单 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
metallic
|
|
| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
superstitions
|
|
| 迷信，迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
outrage
|
|
| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
conceal
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
advisers
|
|
| 顾问，劝告者( adviser的名词复数 )； （指导大学新生学科问题等的）指导教授 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
fortified
|
|
| adj. 加强的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
stockade
|
|
| n.栅栏，围栏；v.用栅栏防护 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
coffin
|
|
| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
corpse
|
|
| n.尸体，死尸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
enveloped
|
|
| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
cylinder
|
|
| n.圆筒，柱(面)，汽缸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
lashed
|
|
| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
frustrated
|
|
| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
averted
|
|
| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
berth
|
|
| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
lieutenant
|
|
| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
gallant
|
|
| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
belongings
|
|
| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
amicable
|
|
| adj.和平的，友好的；友善的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
tragic
|
|
| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
ingenuity
|
|
| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
hostility
|
|
| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
ruse
|
|
| n.诡计，计策；诡计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
unpacked
|
|
| v.从（包裹等）中取出（所装的东西），打开行李取出( unpack的过去式和过去分词 )；拆包；解除…的负担；吐露（心事等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
devious
|
|
| adj.不坦率的，狡猾的；迂回的，曲折的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
triumphantly
|
|
| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
consul
|
|
| n.领事；执政官 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
geographical
|
|
| adj.地理的；地区(性)的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
joint
|
|
| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
nave
|
|
| n.教堂的中部；本堂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
slab
|
|
| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
extraordinarily
|
|
| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
desolating
|
|
| 毁坏( desolate的现在分词 )； 极大地破坏； 使沮丧； 使痛苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |