The Personal Life of David Livingstone/CHAPTER XXI

CHAPTER XXI.

LIVINGSTONE AND STANLEY.

A.D. 1871-1872.

Mr. Gordon Bennett sends Stanley in search of Livingstone--Stanley at Zanzibar--Starts for Ujiji--Reaches Unyanyembe--Dangerous illness--War between Arabs and natives--Narrow escape of Stanley--Approach to Ujiji--Meeting with Livingstone--Livingstone's story--Stanley's news--Livingstone's goods and men at Bagamoio--Stanley's accounts of Livingstone--Refutation of foolish and calumnious charges--They go to the north of the lake--Livingstone resolves not to go home, but to get fresh men and return to the sources--Letter to Agnes--to Sir Thomas Maclear--The travelers go to Unyanyembe--More plundering of stores--Stanley leaves for Zanzibar--Stanley's bitterness of heart at parting--Livingstone's intense gratitude to Stanley--He intrusts his Journal to him, and commissions him to send servants and stores from Zanzibar--Stanley's journey to the coast--Finds Search Expedition at Bagamoio--Proceeds to England--Stanley's reception--Unpleasant feelings--Éclaircissement--England grateful to Stanley.

The meeting of Stanley and Livingstone at Ujiji was as unlikely an occurrence as could have happened, and, along with many of the earlier events in Livingstone's life, serves to show how wonderfully an Unseen Hand shaped and guarded his path. Neither Stanley nor the gentleman who sent him had any personal interest in Livingstone. Mr. Bennett admitted frankly that he was moved neither by friendship nor philanthropy, but by regard to his business and interest as a journalist. The object of a journal was to furnish its readers with the news which they desired to know; the readers of the _New York Herald_ desired to know about Livingstone; as a journalist, it was his business to find out and tell them. Mr. Bennett determined that, cost what it might, he would find out, and give the news to his readers. These were the very unromantic notions, with an under-current probably of better quality, that were passing through his mind at Paris, on the 16th October, 1869, when he sent a telegram to Madrid, summoning Henry M. Stanley, one of the "own correspondents" of his paper, to "come to Paris on important business." On his arrival, Mr. Bennett asked him bluntly, "Where do you think Livingstone is?" The correspondent could not tell--could not even tell whether he was alive. "Well," said Mr. Bennett, "I think he is alive, and that he may be found, and I am going to send you to find him." Mr. Stanley was to have whatever money should be found necessary; only he was to find Livingstone. It is very mysterious that he was not to go straight to Africa--he was to visit Constantinople, Palestine, and Egypt first. Then, from India, he was to go to Zanzibar; get into the interior, and find him if alive; obtain all possible news of his discoveries; and if he were dead, get the fact fully verified, find out the place of his burial, and try to obtain possession of his bones, that they might find a resting-place at home.

It was not till January, 1871, that Stanley reached Zanzibar. To organize an expedition into the interior was no easy task for one who had never before set foot in Africa. To lay all his plans without divulging his object would, perhaps, have been more difficult if it had ever entered into any man's head to connect the _New York Herald_ with a search for Livingstone. But indomitable vigor and perseverance succeeded, and by the end of February and beginning of March, one hundred and ninety-two persons in all had started in five caravans at short intervals from Bagamoio for Lake Tanganyika, two white men being of the party besides Stanley, with horses, donkeys, bales, boats, boxes, rifles, etc., to an amount that made the leader of the expedition ask himself how such an enormous weight of material could ever be carried into the heart of Africa.

The ordinary and extraordinary risks and troubles of travel in these parts fell to Mr. Stanley's lot in unstinted abundance. But when Unyanyembe was reached, the half-way station to Ujiji, troubles more than extraordinary befell. First, a terrible attack of fever that deprived him of his senses for a fortnight. Then came a worse trouble. The Arabs were at war with a chief Mirambo, and Stanley and his men, believing they would help to restore peace more speedily, sided with the Arabs. At first they were apparently victorious, but immediately after, part of the Arabs were attacked on their way home by Mirambo, who lay in ambush for them, and were defeated. Great consternation prevailed. The Arabs retreated in panic, leaving Stanley, who was ill, to the tender mercies of the foe. Stanley, however, managed to escape. After this experience of the Arabs in war, he resolved to discontinue his alliance with them. As the usual way to Ujiji was blocked, he determined to try a route more to the south. But his people had forsaken him. One of his two English companions was dead, the other was sick and had to be sent back. Mirambo was still threatening. It was not till the 20th September that new men were engaged by Stanley, and his party were ready to move.

They marched slowly, with various adventures and difficulties, until, by Mr. Stanley's reckoning, on the 10th November (but by Livingstone's earlier), they were close on Ujiji. Their approach created an extraordinary excitement. First one voice saluted them in English, then another; these were the salutations of Livingstone's servants, Susi and Chuma. By and by the Doctor himself appeared. "As I advanced slowly toward him," says Mr. Stanley, "I noticed he was pale, looked wearied, had a gray beard, wore a bluish cap with a faded gold band round it, had on a red-sleeved waistcoat and a pair of gray tweed trousers. I would have run to him, only I was a coward in the presence of such a mob,--would have embraced him, only he, being an Englishman, I did not know how he would receive me; so I did what cowardice and false pride suggested was the best thing--walked deliberately to him, took off my hat and said, 'Dr. Livingstone, I presume?' 'Yes,' said he, with a kind smile, lifting his cap slightly. I replace my hat on my head, and he puts on his cap, and we both grasp hands, and then I say aloud--'I thank God, Doctor, I have been permitted to see you.' He answered, 'I feel thankful that I am here to welcome you.'"

The conversation began--but Stanley could not remember what it was. "I found myself gazing at him, conning the wonderful man at whose side I now sat in Central Africa. Every hair of his head and beard, every wrinkle of his face, the wanness of his features, and the slightly wearied look he bore, were all imparting intelligence to me--the knowledge I craved for so much ever since I heard the words, 'Take what you want, but find Livingstone,' What I saw was deeply interesting intelligence to me and unvarnished truth. I was listening and reading at the same time. What did these dumb witnesses relate to me?

"Oh, reader, had you been at my side on this day in Ujiji, how eloquently could be told the nature of this man's work? Had you been there but to see and hear! His lips gave me the details; lips that never lie. I cannot repeat what he said; I was too much engrossed to take my notebook out, and begin to stenograph his story. He had so much to say that he began at the end, seemingly oblivious of the fact that five or six years had to be accounted for. But his account was oozing out; it was growing fast into grand proportions--into a most marvelous history of deeds."

And Stanley, too, had wonderful things to tell the Doctor. "The news," says Livingstone, "he had to tell one who had been two full years without any tidings from Europe made my whole frame thrill. The terrible fate that had befallen France, the telegraphic cables successfully laid in the Atlantic, the election of General Grant, the death of good Lord Clarendon, my constant friend; the proof that Her Majesty's Government had not forgotten me in voting £1000 for supplies, and many other points of interest, revived emotions that had lain dormant in Manyuema." As Stanley went on, Livingstone kept saying, "You have brought me new life--you have brought me new life."

There was one piece of news brought by Stanley to Livingstone that was far from satisfactory. At Bagamoio, on the coast, Stanley had found a caravan with supplies for Livingstone that had been despatched from Zanzibar three or four months before, the men in charge of which had been lying idle there all that time on the pretext that they were waiting for carriers. A letter-bag was also lying at Bagamoio, although several caravans for Ujiji had left in the meantime. On hearing that the Consul at Zanzibar, Dr. Kirk, was coming to the neighborhood to hunt, the party at last made off. Overtaking them at Unyanyembe, Stanley took charge of Livingstone's stores, but was not able to bring them on; only he compelled the letter-carrier to come on to Ujiji with his bag. At what time, but for Stanley, Livingstone would have got his letters, which after all were a year on the way, he could not have told. For his stores, or such fragments of them as might remain, he had afterward to trudge all the way to Unyanyembe. His letters conveyed the news that Government had voted a thousand pounds for his relief, and were besides to pay him a salary[74]. The unpleasant feeling he had had so long as to his treatment by Government was thus at last somewhat relieved. But the goods that had lain in neglect at Bagamoio, and were now out of reach at Unyanyembe, represented one-half the Government grant, and would probably be squandered, like his other goods, before he could reach them.

[Footnote 74: The intimation of salary was premature. Livingstone got a pension of £800 afterward, which lasted only for a year and a half.]

The impression made on Stanley by Livingstone was remarkably vivid; and the portrait drawn by the American will be recognized as genuine by every one who knows what manner of man Livingstone was:

"I defy any one to be in his society long without thoroughly    fathoming him, for in him there is no guile, and what is     apparent on the surface is the thing that is in him.... Dr.     Livingstone is about sixty years old, though after he was     restored to health he looked like a man who had not passed     his fiftieth year. His hair has a brownish color yet, but is     here and there streaked with gray lines over the temples; his     beard and moustaches are very gray. His eyes, which are     hazel, are remarkably bright; he has a sight keen as a     hawk's. His teeth alone indicate the weakness of age; the     hard fare of Lunda has made havoc in their lines. His form,     which soon assumed a stoutish appearance, is a little over     the ordinary height, with the slightest possible bow in the     shoulders. When walking he has a firm but heavy tread, like     that of an overworked or fatigued man. He is accustomed to    wear a naval cap with a semicircular peak, by which he has been identified throughout Africa. His dress, when first I    saw him, exhibited traces of patching and repairing, but was scrupulously clean.

"I was led to believe that Livingstone possessed a splenetic,    misanthropic temper; some have said that he is garrulous;     that he is demented; that he is utterly changed from the     David Livingstone whom people knew as the reverend     missionary; that he takes no notes or observations but such     as those which no other person could read but himself, and it     was reported, before I proceeded to Africa, that he was     married to an African princess.

"I respectfully beg to differ with all and each of the above    statements. I grant he is not an angel; but he approaches to     that being as near as the nature of a living man will allow.     I never saw any spleen or misanthropy in him: as for being     garrulous, Dr. Livingstone is quite the reverse; he is     reserved, if anything; and to the man who says Dr.     Livingstone is changed, all I can say is, that he never could     have known him, for it is notorious that the Doctor has a     fund of quiet humor, which he exhibits at all times when he     is among friends." [After repudiating the charge as to his notes, and observations, Mr. Stanley continues:] "As to the    report of his African marriage, it is unnecessary to say more     than that it is untrue, and it is utterly beneath a gentleman     even to hint at such a thing in connection with the name of     Dr. Livingstone.

"You may take any point in Dr. Livingstone's character, and    analyze it carefully, and I would challenge any man to find a     fault in it.... His gentleness never forsakes him; his     hopefulness never deserts him. No harassing anxieties,     distraction of mind, long separation from home and kindred,     can make him complain. He thinks 'all will come out right at     last'; he has such faith in the goodness of Providence. The     sport of adverse circumstances, the plaything of the     miserable beings sent to him from Zanzibar--he has been     baffled and worried, even almost to the grave, yet he will     not desert the charge imposed upon him by his friend Sir     Roderick Murchison. To the stern dictates of duty, alone, has     he sacrificed his home and ease, the pleasures, refinements,     and luxuries of civilized life. His is the Spartan heroism,     the inflexibility of the Roman, the enduring resolution of     the Anglo-Saxon--never to relinquish his work, though his heart yearns for home; never to surrender his obligations until he can write FINIS to his work.

"There is a good-natured _abandon_ about Livingstone which    was not lost on me. Whenever he began to laugh, there was a     contagion about it that compelled me to imitate him. It was     such a laugh as Teufelsdröckh's--a laugh of the whole man     from head to heel. If he told a story, he related it in such     a way as to convince one of its truthfulness; his face was so     lit up by the sly fun it contained, that I was sure the story     was worth relating, and worth listening to.

"Another thing that especially attracted my attention was his    wonderfully retentive memory. If we remember the many years     he has spent in Africa, deprived of books, we may well think     it an uncommon memory that can recite whole poems from Byron,     Burns, Tennyson, Longfellow, Whittier, and Lowell....

"His religion is not of the theoretical kind, but it is a    constant, earnest, sincere practice. It is neither     demonstrative nor loud, but manifests itself in a quiet,     practical way, and is always at work. It is not aggressive,     which sometimes is troublesome if not impertinent. In him     religion exhibits its loveliest features; it governs his     conduct not only toward his servants but toward the natives,     the bigoted Mohammedans, and all who come in contact with     him. Without it, Livingstone, with his ardent temperament,     his enthusiasm, his high spirit and courage, must have become     uncompanionable, and a hard master. Religion has tamed him     and made him a Christian gentleman; the crude and willful     have been refined and subdued; religion has made him the most     companionable of men and indulgent of masters--a man whose     society is pleasurable to a degree....

"From being thwarted and hated in every possible way by the    Arabs and half-castes upon his first arrival at Ujiji, he     has, through his uniform kindness and mild, pleasant temper,     won all hearts. I observed that universal respect was paid to     him. Even the Mohammedans never passed his house without     calling to pay their compliments, and to say, 'The blessing     of God rest on you!' Each Sunday morning he gathers his     little flock around him, and reads prayers and a chapter from     the Bible, in a natural, unaffected, and sincere tone; and     afterward delivers a short address in the Kisawahili     language, about the subject read to them, which is listened     to with evident interest and attention."

It was agreed that the two travelers should make a short excursion to the north end of Lake Tanganyika, to ascertain whether the lake had an outlet there. This was done, but it was found that instead of flowing out, the river Lugizé flowed into the lake, so that the notion that the lake discharged itself northward turned out to be an error. Meanwhile, the future arrangements of Dr. Livingstone were matter of anxious consideration. One thing was fixed and certain from the beginning: Livingstone would not go home with Stanley. Much though his heart yearned for home and family--all the more that he had just learned that his son Thomas had had a dangerous accident,--and much though he needed to recruit his strength and nurse his ailments, he would not think of it while his work remained unfinished. To turn back to those dreary sponges, sleep in those flooded plains, encounter anew that terrible pneumonia which was "worse than ten fevers," or that distressing hæmorrhage which added extreme weakness to extreme agony--might have turned any heart; Livingstone never flinched from it. What a reception awaited him if he had gone home to England! What welcome from friends and children, what triumphal cheers from all the great Societies and _savants_, what honors from all who had honors to confer, what opportunity of renewing efforts to establish missions and commerce, and to suppress the slave traffic! Then he might return to Africa in a year, and finish his work. If Livingstone had taken this course, no whisper would have been heard against it. The nobility of his soul never rose higher, his utter abandonment of self, his entire devotion to duty, his right honorable determination to work while it was called to-day never shone more brightly than when he declined all Stanley's entreaties to return home, and set his face steadfastly to go back to the bogs of the watershed. He writes in his journal: "My daughter Agnes says, 'Much as I wish you to come home, I had rather that you finished your work to your own satisfaction, than return merely to gratify me.' Rightly and nobly said, my darling Nannie; vanity whispers pretty loudly, 'She is a chip of the old block,' My blessing on her and all the rest."

After careful consideration of various plans, it was agreed that he should go to Unyanyembe, accompanied by Stanley, who would supply him there with abundance of goods, and who would then hurry down to the coast, organize a new expedition composed of fifty or sixty faithful men to be sent on to Unyanyembe, by whom Livingstone would be accompanied back to Bangweolo and the sources, and then to Rua, until his work should be completed, and he might go home in peace.

A few extracts from Livingstone's letters will show us how he felt at this remarkable crisis. To Agnes:

"_Tanganyika_, 18_th November_, 1871--[After detailing his    troubles in Manyuema, the loss of all his goods at Ujiji, and     the generous offer of Syed bin Majid, he continues:] "Next I     heard of an Englishman being at Unyamyembe with boats, etc., but who he was, none could tell. At last, one of my people came running out of breath and shouted, 'An Englishman coming!' and off he darted back again to meet him. An    American flag at the head of a large caravan showed the nationality of the stranger. Baths, tents, saddles, big kettles, showed that he was not a poor Lazarus like me. He    turned out to be Henry M. Stanley, traveling correspondent of     the _New York Herald_, sent specially to find out if I were really alive, and, if dead, to bring home my bones. He had brought abundance of goods at great expense, but the fighting referred to delayed him, and he had to leave a great part at    Unyamyembe. To all he had I was made free. [In a later letter, Livingstone says; 'He laid all he had at my service, divided his clothes into two heaps, and pressed one heap upon me; then his medicine-chest; then his goods and everything he    had, and to coax my appetite, often cooked dainty dishes with his own hand.'] He came with the true American characteristic generosity. The tears often started into my eyes on every fresh proof of kindness. My appetite returned, and I ate three or four times a day, instead of scanty meals morning and evening. I soon felt strong, and never wearied with the strange news of Europe and America he told. The tumble down of the French Empire was like a dream...."

A long letter to his friend Sir Thomas Maclear and Mr. Mann, of the same date, goes over his travels in Manyuema, his many disasters, and then his wonderful meeting with Mr. Stanley at Ujiji. Speaking of the unwillingness of the natives to believe in the true purpose of his journey, he says: "They all treat me with respect, and are very much afraid of being written against; but they consider the sources of the Nile to be a sham; the true object of my being sent is to see their odious system of slaving, and _if indeed my disclosures should lead to the suppression of the East Coast slave-trade, I would esteem that as a far greater feat than the discovery of all the sources together_. It is awful, but I cannot speak of the slaving for fear of appearing guilty of exaggerating. It is not trading; it is murdering for captives to be made into slaves." His account of himself in the journey from Nyangwe is dreadful: "I was near a fourth lake on this central line, and only eighty miles from Lake Lincoln on our west, in fact almost in sight of the geographical end of my mission, when I was forced to return [through the misconduct of his men] between 400 and 500 miles. A sore heart, made still sorer by the sad scenes I had seen of man's inhumanity to man, made this march a terrible tramp--the sun vertical, and the sore heat reacting on the physical frame. I was in pain nearly every step of the way, and arrived a mere ruckle of bones to find myself destitute." In speaking of the impression made by Mr. Stanley's kindness: "I am as cold and non-demonstrative as we islanders are reputed to be, but this kindness was overwhelming. Here was the good Samaritan and no mistake. Never was I more hard pressed; never was help more welcome."

During thirteen months Stanley received no fewer than ten parcels of letters and papers sent up by Mr. Webb, American Consul at Zanzibar, while Livingstone received but one. This was an additional ground for faith in the efficiency of Stanley's arrangements.

The journey to Unyanyembe was somewhat delayed by an attack of fever which Stanley had at Ujiji, and it was not till the 27th December that the travelers set out. On the way Stanley heard of the death of his English attendant Shaw, whom he had left unwell. On the 18th of February, 1872, they reached Unyanyembe, where a new chapter of the old history unfolded itself. The survivor of two head-men employed by Ludha Damji had been plundering Livingstone's stores, and had broken open the lock of Mr. Stanley's store-room and plundered him likewise. Notwithstanding, Mr. Stanley was able to give Livingstone a large amount of calico, beads, brass wire, copper sheets, a tent, boat, bath, cooking-pots, medicine-chest, tools, books, paper, medicines, cartridges, and shot. This, with four flannel shirts that had come from Agnes, and two pairs of boots, gave him the feeling of being quite set up.

On the 14th of March Mr. Stanley left Livingstone for Zanzibar, having received from him a commission to send him up fifty trusty men, and some additional stores. Mr. Stanley had authority to draw from Dr. Kirk the remaining half of the Government grant, but lest it should have been expended, he was furnished with a cheque for 5000 rupees on Dr. Livingstone's agents at Bombay. He was likewise intrusted with a large folio MS.* volume containing his journals from his arrival at Zanzibar, 28th January, 1866, to February 20, 1872, written out with all his characteristic care and beauty. Another instruction had been laid upon him. If he should find another set of slaves on the way to him, he was to send them back, for Livingstone would on no account expose himself anew to the misery, risk, and disappointment he had experienced from the kind of men that had compelled him to turn back at Nyangwe.

Dr. Livingstone's last act before Mr. Stanley left him was to write his letters--twenty for Great Britain, six for Bombay, two for New York, and one for Zanzibar. The two for New York were for Mr. Bennett of the _New York Herald_, by whom Stanley had been sent to Africa.

Mr. Stanley has freely unfolded to us the bitterness of his heart in parting from Livingstone. "My days seem to have been spent in an Elysian field; otherwise, why should I so keenly regret the near approach of the parting hour? Have I not been battered by successive fevers, prostrate with agony day after day lately? Have I not raved and stormed in madness? Have I not clenched my fists in fury, and fought with the wild strength of despair when in delirium? Yet, I regret to surrender the pleasure I have felt in this man's society, though so dearly purchased.... _March 14th._--We had a sad breakfast together. I could not eat, my heart was too full; neither did my companion seem to have an appetite. We found something to do which kept us longer together. At eight o'clock I was not gone, and I had thought to have been off at five A.M.... We walked side by side; the men lifted their voices in a song. I took long looks at Livingstone, to impress his features thoroughly on my memory.... 'Now, my dear Doctor, the best friends must part. You have come far enough; let me beg of you to turn back.' 'Well,' Livingstone replied, 'I will say this to you: You have done what few men could do,--far better than some great travelers I know. And I am grateful to you for what you have done for me. God guide you safe home, and bless you, my friend,'--'And may God bring you safe back to us all, my dear friend. Farewell!'--'Farewell!"... My friendly reader, I wrote the above extracts in my Diary on the evening of each day. I look at them now after six months have passed away; yet I am not ashamed of them; my eyes feel somewhat dimmed at the recollection of the parting. I dared not erase, nor modify what I had penned, while my feelings were strong. God grant that if ever you take to traveling in Africa you will get as noble and true a man for your companion as David Livingstone! For four months and four days I lived with him in the same house, or in the same boat, or in the same tent, and I never found a fault in him. I am a man of a quick temper, and often without sufficient cause, I daresay, have broken the ties of friendship; but with Livingstone I never had cause for resentment, but each day's life with him added to my admiration for him."

If Stanley's feeling for Livingstone was thus at the warmest temperature, Livingstone's sense of the service done to him by Stanley was equally unqualified. Whatever else he might be or might not be, he had proved a true friend to him. He had risked his life in the attempt to reach him, had been delighted to share with him every comfort he possessed, and to leave with him ample stores of all that might be useful to him in his effort to finish his work. Whoever may have been to blame for it, it is certain that Livingstone had been afflicted for years, and latterly worried almost to death, by the inefficency and worthlessness of the men sent to serve him. In Stanley he found one whom he could trust implicitly to do everything that zeal and energy could contrive in order to find him efficient men and otherwise carry out his plans. It was Stanley therefore whom he commissioned to send him up men from Zanzibar. It was Stanley to whom he intrusted his Journal and other documents. Stanley had been his confidental friend for four months--the only white man to whom he talked for six years. It was matter of life and death to Livingstone to be supplied for this concluding piece of work far better than he had been for years back. What man in his senses would have failed in these circumstances to avail himself to the utmost of the services of one who had shown himself so efficient; would have put him aside to fall back on others, albeit his own countrymen, who, with all their good-will, had not been able to save him from robbery, beggary, and a half-broken heart.

Stanley's journey from Unyanyembe to Bagamoio was a perpetual struggle against hostile natives, flooded roads, slush, mire, and water, roaring torrents, ants and mosquitos, or, as he described it, the ten plagues of Egypt. On his reaching Bagamoio, on the 6th May, he found a new surprise. A white man dressed in flannels and helmet appeared, and as he met Stanley congratulated him on his splendid success. It was Lieutenant Henn, R.N., a member of the Search Expedition which the Royal Geographical Society and others had sent out to look for Livingstone. The resolution to organize such an Expedition was taken after news had come to England of the war between the Arabs and the natives at Unyanyembe, stopping the communication with Ujiji, and rendering it impossible, as it was thought, for Mr. Stanley to get to Livingstone's relief. The Expedition had been placed under command of Lieutenant Dawson, R.N., with Lieutenant Henn as second, and was joined by the Rev. Charles New, a Missionary from Mombasa, and Mr. W. Oswell Livingstone, youngest son of the Doctor. Stanley's arrival at Bagamoio had been preceded by that of some of his men, who brought the news that Livingstone had been found and relieved. On hearing this, Lieutenant Dawson hurried to Zanzibar to see Dr. Kirk, and resigned his command. Lieutenant Henn soon after followed his example by resigning too. They thought that as Dr. Livingstone had been relieved there was no need for their going on. Mr. New likewise declined, to proceed. Mr. W. Oswell Livingstone was thus left alone, at first full of the determination to go on to his father with the men whom Stanley was providing; but owing to the state of his health, and under the advice of Dr. Kirk, he, too, declined to accompany the Expedition, so that the men from Zanzibar proceeded to Unyanyembe alone.

On the 29th of May, Stanley, with Messrs. Henn, Livingstone, New, and Morgan, departed in the "Africa" from Zanzibar, and in due time reached Europe.

It was deeply to be regretted that an enterprise so beautiful and so entirely successful as Mr. Stanley's should have been in some degree marred by ebullitions of feeling little in harmony with the very joyous event. The leaders of the English Search Expedition and their friends felt, as they expressed it, that the wind had been taken out of their sails. They could not but rejoice that Livingstone had been found and relieved, but it was a bitter thought that they had had no hand in the process. It was galling to their feelings as Englishmen that the brilliant service had been done by a stranger, a newspaper correspondent, a citizen of another country. On a small scale that spirit of national jealousy showed itself, which on a wider arena has sometimes endangered the relations of England and America.

When Stanley reached England, it was not to be overwhelmed with gratitude. At first the Royal Geographical Society received him coldly. Instead of his finding Livingstone, it was surmised that Livingstone had found him. Strange things were said of him at the British Association at Brighton. The daily press actually challenged his truthfulness; some of the newspapers affected to treat his whole story as a myth. Stanley says frankly that this reception gave a tone of bitterness to his book--_How I Found Livingstone_--which it would not have had if he had understood the real state of things. But the heart of the nation was sound; the people believed in Stanley, and appreciated his service. At last the mists cleared away, and England acknowledged its debt to the American. The Geographical Society gave him the right hand of fellowship "with a warmth and generosity never to be forgotten." The President apologized for the words of suspicion he had previously used. Her Majesty the Queen presented Stanley with a special token of her regard. Unhappily, in the earlier stages of the affair, wounds had been inflicted which are not likely ever to be wholly healed. Words were spoken on both sides which cannot be recalled. But the great fact remains, and will be written on the page of history, that Stanley did a noble service to Livingstone, earning thereby the gratitude of England and of the civilized world.