David Livingstone: The Missionary Who Became a Legendary Explorer

Here’s a sanitized version of the provided YouTube transcript:

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Today, Biographics is going to profile the famous explorer David Livingston. But how could I start this video without first mentioning my newest YouTube channel called Explore? It features more documentary-style videos than you see on this channel, and I think if you enjoy this content, you’ll find the weekly explorations fascinating. Whether it’s looking at countries where insulting the king is a jailable crime or the use of diplomatic bags to smuggle contraband, it covers a wide variety of topics. New videos are released on that channel once a week, so please check it out through the link below and consider subscribing.

On paper, it can be hard to say exactly why David Livingston is ranked among the greatest explorers of Africa. Objectively speaking, he wasn’t a particularly effective missionary, and most of the areas he traveled to had already been explored by others. On a personal level, he often had arguments with his colleagues and mostly ignored his wife and children. Yet, his legend endures even now, when many European explorers who paved the way for imperialism are not remembered as fondly. As one historian put it, at a time when countries are being renamed and statues are being toppled, Livingston has not fallen. The cities named after him still exist, as does Blantyre, Malawi’s financial center, which was named after Livingston’s birthplace.

So, what made him stand out? Maybe it was his inspirational rags-to-riches story, starting out in a poor family working in a cotton factory and ending with a state funeral at Westminster Abbey. Perhaps it was his strong opposition to slavery, as he made it clear that everything he did in Africa aimed to undermine the slave trade. We’ll let you decide for yourself if he was truly deserving of his place in history as we explore the life of David Livingston.

David Livingston was born on March 19, 1813, in the small Scottish town of Blantyre in South Lanarkshire. He was the second of seven children to Neil and Agnes Livingston, and the entire family lived in a one-room apartment at the top of a tenement building. The local cotton mill was the biggest employer in town, and Neil Livingston already worked there as a tailor. It was expected that his sons would start working there too as soon as they were able. John, the eldest, was the first to do so, and he was soon joined by David when he was just 10 years old. Both of them worked as piecers, meaning it was their job to repair broken threads on the spinning jennies. This was long and hard work, even by the standards of the 19th century. The mill opened at 6 AM and work continued until 8 PM, with just two 40-minute breaks for meals.

However, the owners also funded the local church and school, and David used this to his advantage. Despite the long hours, he still attended school for two hours each day, and education and religion both found a place in his heart from an early age. This sometimes placed David at odds with his father, who, as a deeply devout man, feared that his son’s growing interest in science would lead him away from Christianity. He tried to encourage David to read only theology, but it was no use, as his son became more convinced that the two disciplines could be reconciled.

At one point, the family abandoned the Church of Scotland and joined a Congregational church, introducing David to a few people who would greatly influence his outlook on life. One was the American Presbyterian minister Charles Finney, a leader of a religious movement known as the Second Great Awakening in the United States. Finney was a staunch abolitionist who considered slavery a great sin and worked with the Underground Railroad to provide safe passage for runaway slaves to Canada. The second was a German Lutheran named Carl Gützlaff, one of the first Protestant missionaries to the Far East. After reading a pamphlet of his asking for medical missionaries to travel to China, David thought he finally knew how to continue his scientific interests in a way that would satisfy his father: he would study medicine and then become a missionary.

In 1836, David Livingston had saved enough money to enroll as a medical student at Anderson’s University in Glasgow, known today as the University of Strathclyde. While there, he also studied Latin and took divinity courses from Ralph Wardlaw, a prominent Scottish clergyman and another fervent anti-slavery advocate. In 1838, Livingston was accepted as a member of the London Missionary Society (LMS). Before being able to travel on a mission, he first had to complete a probationary year of scriptural studies in Essex to become a minister. Livingston wanted to go to China, but the outbreak of the First Opium War in 1839 put an end to that ambition. The LMS suggested that he travel to the West Indies instead, but he soon had other ideas.

In 1840, he met Robert Moffat, another LMS missionary who had recently returned from Africa. The two became friends, and Moffat excited Livingston with tales of his missionary work in South Africa. Moreover, Moffat expressed his belief that through the spread of Christianity and the establishment of legitimate trade networks, they could undermine the slave trade that was rampant on the continent. This convinced David Livingston that once he was ordained and became a medical licentiate, he wanted to go to Africa.

On December 8, 1840, Livingston set sail for Africa. His destination was Kuruman, the mission founded by Robert Moffat in the northern part of South Africa. After a slight detour to Rio de Janeiro caused by powerful winds, the new missionary touched ground in Africa in March 1841. He spent a few weeks in Cape Town getting accustomed to his new surroundings and finally arrived in Kuruman by the end of July. The missionaries mainly interacted with the Bakwena people, established a couple of hundred miles to the north of Kuruman. Livingston made several trips to meet them, stayed with them for weeks at a time, and within a year, he was fluent in their language called Setswana.

A couple of years later, Livingston founded a new mission at Mabotse and relocated there. Kuruman was once again in the hands of Robert Moffat, who also brought along his eldest daughter, Mary. She and Livingston became close, and the two married in 1845, going on to have six children together. Despite his lofty ambitions, good intentions, and long-lasting fame, David Livingston was not a good missionary, objectively speaking. After all, the main purpose of missionaries is to convert people to Christianity, and the total number of converts attributable to Livingston is one. His name was Secele, and he was the chief of the Bakwena people living in what is today Botswana. He showed a great interest in Livingston’s biblical teachings, but there were two obstacles standing in the way of his baptism. The first was that Secele was a rainmaker, a practice deemed too similar to witchcraft by the missionaries. The second, and more importantly, was that as tribal chief, Secele had five wives, which was considered problematic for a Christian.

In the end, Secele agreed to give up rainmaking and divorce four of his wives, and Livingston baptized him in 1848. The conversion didn’t take; it was later revealed that the chief never really broke off contact with his ex-wives. When one of them became pregnant, Livingston had no choice but to denounce him. However, even so, Secele never abandoned his new faith and kept preaching to others about Christianity long after Livingston left. One could argue that he was a far more effective missionary than Livingston himself.

As far as the Scotsman was concerned, he was ready to move deeper into the heart of Africa. He had heard people speak of a lake located in the far interior, referring to Lake Ngami. However, to reach it, he would need to cross the Kalahari Desert. It took Livingston several tries to accomplish his goal. His first journey in 1849 was relatively easygoing; he picked the right season to cross the Kalahari and had plenty of supplies and men to help him. His party left in May and followed the Boteti River until it reached Lake Ngami. Livingston wanted to cross the lake and make contact with the Kololo people and their chief, Sebatwaine. However, for this, he needed a boat, which he did not have, so his party returned home.

A year later, Livingston made the journey again, this time bringing his family along. However, two of his children fell ill, so they had to go back. He was ready for a third attempt by 1851. This time, bolstered by a 25 guinea prize from the Royal Geographical Society (RGS) for discovering Lake Ngami, Livingston risked everyone’s life taking a shortcut across the desert, but this time he was successful. The missionary managed to reach Sebatwaine shortly before the chief died of pneumonia, so Livingston’s original plan went out the window. But now he had another idea: he had heard about a great river that led all the way to the eastern coast of Africa.

On August 4, 1851, he arrived at this waterway known as the Zambezi. He then thought back to what Moffat had told him years ago: if they could establish an effective route for the legitimate trade of English goods, this would undermine the slave trade, something which Livingston still considered his most important goal. But in order to accomplish this, he would need to cross the Zambezi. This is when David Livingston’s career as an explorer started in earnest. He sent his family back to Britain, as the journeys would be too dangerous for them. He secured the aid of Seculetu, Sebatwaine’s son and successor, who was eager to establish a trade route to Luanda in modern-day Angola.

In November 1853, Livingston and his party began their voyage up the Zambezi River and into Angola. It proved to be a difficult trek. Once the rainy season started, the expedition could no longer travel by canoe and had to rely on oxen. Party members were stricken by malaria, Livingston included, as were many of their pack animals. The explorer became completely reliant for communication on interpreters provided by Seculetu, as he left the region where people spoke Setswana, the only African language he understood. Everything was more expensive than anticipated, and the expedition had used up most of its trade goods way sooner than they had planned. Despite all these obstacles, a tired and sickly Livingston reached Luanda on May 31, 1854. He was in such bad shape that a British commissioner in the city tried to send him back to England, but the explorer refused. He thought a water route down the Zambezi to the east coast might be more accessible, so that is what he wanted to try next.

After a period of convalescence and a return trip to Botswana, Livingston was ready to set off again. He departed in November 1855, again assisted by Seculetu, who provided his expedition with men and resources. During his travels, it is believed that David Livingston became the first European to set sights on a giant waterfall, which the locals called Mosi-oa-Tunya, meaning “the waters that thunder.” Livingston renamed it Victoria Falls in honor of Queen Victoria, although both names are officially recognized today. This voyage went considerably smoother than the one to the west. On March 2, 1856, the expedition reached the Portuguese settlement of Tete, where most of the party members stopped. The only ones who continued on were Livingston and his chief guide and interpreter, Sequeira, whom the explorer described in his diary as his right-hand man. Livingston had promised to take Sequeira to Britain, and that was their next destination. The duo continued canoeing down the Zambezi until May, when they reached the seaport of Quelimane, today in Mozambique. Thus, David Livingston might have become the first European to cross southern Africa from west to east, although to put this in perspective, many African and Arab traders had already made this journey.

In July, the pair left for England, but tragedy struck on the way. While traversing some rough seas, Sequeira fell overboard and drowned. Livingston himself arrived in Quelimane poorly and stricken by fever, so he first stopped on the island of Mauritius to recuperate before setting off for the long journey home. He arrived in Southampton on December 12, 1856, and quickly discovered to his surprise that he had become a minor celebrity. Unbeknownst to him, the RGS had published the letters that Livingston had written to them, presenting his voyages, and had already awarded him their gold medal. He was given a reception by the Royal Geographical Society, followed closely by another one from the London Missionary Society. Livingston’s fame grew the following year when he wrote a more detailed account of his travels and published it under the name “Missionary Travels and Researches in South Africa.” The title might not have been too catchy, but the book became one of the best-selling travel journals of its time and led to multiple speaking engagements for Livingston. By the end of the year, the explorer had become a national hero.

In 1858, he was named a fellow of the Royal Society and obtained an audience with Queen Victoria. He was given the task of leading a second Zambezi expedition, although this one had the full backing of the British government. Livingston was given a large grant, a team of scientists, and even a steamship to travel on the river. The goal was just what the Scotsman was hoping for: to investigate the feasibility of British commerce on the Zambezi, which would have a crippling effect on the slave trade. So in March 1858, David Livingston set off once more for Africa.

This trip did not go as well as the first one, exposing Livingston’s limitations as a leader in charge of a large scientific expedition. More dangerously, the Scotsman wrote in his diary about his belief that his mission was under divine providence, convinced that everything he did was guided by a higher power. Therefore, he refused to admit to any mistakes and did not tolerate criticism from his companions, which led to a very strained working environment. Indeed, many of the other members of the expedition either abandoned Livingston or died before the journey’s end. The team physician, Sir John Kirk, put it plainly when he wrote, “I can come to no other conclusion than that Dr. Livingston is out of his mind and a most unsafe leader.”

But let’s start at the beginning. The second Zambezi expedition left England on March 10, 1858, aboard the steamship Pearl. It was carrying a smaller steam launch christened the Ma Robert, which is how the African locals referred to Mary Livingston. She was also on board, but she stayed behind in Kuruman as she was pregnant. Once they reached the Zambezi, the first thing they realized was that the Pearl was too big to use on the river, so they had to rely entirely on the launch. This was also when the first man abandoned the mission after having a falling out with Livingston: Norman Bettingfield, the steamship captain. This, however, was still only a minor inconvenience. The true setback came when the expedition reached the Cabra Bassa rapids. Everyone else saw them and concluded that they could not be navigated, but Livingston refused to admit this and simply said that they needed a more powerful boat. He would have been aware of the rapids from his first trip if not for the detour he made to Tete, which caused him to inadvertently skip over them.

Despite his dismissal of the turbulent waters as only a minor obstacle, Livingston began looking for an alternative route, which he believed he found on the Shire River. Again, he encountered rapids, and again he concluded they could be easily traversed in a proper steamship. The team carried on the Shire River until they reached Lake Nyasa in September of 1859. By this point, two more men had abandoned Livingston: Richard Thornton, the geologist, and Thomas Baines, the expedition artist. Originally, the mission was only supposed to last two years, and there were only a handful of months left until the end, but Livingston wasn’t done, as he wanted to try another water route into the African interior on the Ruvuma River. So now he had nothing to do but wait and see if the British government would extend his mission and, more importantly, replace the battered and broken Ma Robert with a new ship. The team engineer, George Ray, also left and went back to England.

In March of 1860, when the original mission had finished, Livingston’s request was begrudgingly approved, and a new steamship named the Lady Nyasa was built and shipped to Africa. This took a long time, though, and it wasn’t until January 1862 that the explorer received his new vessel. The ship came in parts, and it took another four months to put it together. His wife came along on the second ship that brought the steamer, but their reunion was short-lived. Mary Livingston fell ill with malaria and died on April 27, 1862. David Livingston was stricken with grief but was determined to press on regardless. The Lady Nyasa was ready to go in June, but by then, the river was too low to allow for safe travel. He still wanted to continue, though, and decided to use sailing ships to traverse the shallow waters. This was what prompted Kirk to write that Livingston had lost his mind, and indeed, this idea was dangerous enough that it finally caused Livingston to admit to a mistake and convinced him to turn around.

The year 1863 wasn’t much more productive, as many crew members were sidelined with malaria or dysentery. A letter from London officially put an end to the expedition, and Livingston began making preparations to return home. He took the Lady Nyasa to Zanzibar, and from there, he traveled across the ocean to Bombay, where he sold it and made arrangements to go to England. This return was nowhere near as celebrated as his first. The government had spent around £30,000 on the expedition, funding it for over six years, even though less than a year and a half of that time consisted of actual river exploration. Overall, the results were considered below expectations, and the mission was deemed a failure.

Despite the poor reception to his last trip, David Livingston wanted to return to Africa for a third time. However, now he found it much more difficult to secure funding. To garner interest for the expedition, Livingston sought to answer one of the most burning scientific questions of the day: what was the source of the Nile? In 1862, fellow explorer John Hanning Speke discovered that Lake Victoria was the source of the White Nile, one of the two major tributaries of the Nile, but it was hardly a settled matter. Other scholars, Livingston included, believed that there was another source closer to the Zambezi. After a few years, he managed to secure another grant, although this one was more modest: £2,000—£500 from the government, £500 from the Royal Geographical Society, and £1,000 more from private sponsors. His official title was Roving Consul, a position that came with no salary and no pension.

David Livingston