A third gentleman at this meeting, Mr. Rutherfoord, who had known Livingstone for many years, besides describing him as "one of the most honorable, benevolent, conscientious men I ever met with," bore testimony to his capacity in mercantile affairs; not exercised in his own interest, but in that of others. It was Mr. Rutherfoord who, when Livingstone was at the Cape in 1852, entered into his plans for supplanting the slave-trade by lawful traffic, and at his suggestion engaged George Fleming to go north with him as a trader, and try the experiment. The project was not very successful, owing to innumerable unforeseen worries, and especially the rascality of Fleming's men. Livingstone found it impossible to take Fleming to the coast, and had therefore to send him back, but he did his utmost to prevent loss to his friend; and thus, as Mr. Rutherfoord said, "at the very time that he was engaged in such important duties, and exposed to such difficulties, he found time to fulfill his promise to do what he could to save me from loss, to attend to a matter quite foreign to his usual avocations, and in which he had no personal interest; and by his energy and good sense, and self-denying exertions, to render the plan, if not perfectly successful, yet by no means a failure."
Traveler, geographer, zoologist, astronomer, missionary, physician, and mercantile director, did ever man sustain so many characters at once? Or did ever man perform the duties of each with such painstaking accuracy and so great success?
As soon as he could tear himself from his first engagements, he ran down to Hamilton to see his mother, children, and other relatives. His father's empty chair deeply affected him. "The first evening," writes one of his sisters, "he asked all about his illness and death. One of us remarking that after he knew he was dying his spirits seemed to rise, David burst into tears. At family worship that evening he said with deep feeling--'We bless thee, O Lord, for our parents; we give thee thanks for the dead who has died in the Lord.'"
At first Livingstone thought that his stay in this country could be only for three or four months, as he was eager to be at Quilimane before the unhealthy season set in, and thus fulfill his promise to return to his Makololo at Tette. But on receiving an assurance from the Portuguese Government (which, however, was never fulfilled _by them_) that his men would be looked after, he made up his mind for a somewhat longer stay. But it could not be called rest. As soon as he could settle down he had to set to work with a book. So long before as May, 1856, Sir Roderick Murchison had written to him that "Mr. John Murray, the great publisher, is most anxious to induce you to put together all your data, and to make a good book," adding his own strong advice to comply with the request. If he ever doubted the propriety of writing the book, the doubt must have vanished, not only in view of the unequaled interest excited by the subject, but also of the readiness of unprincipled adventurers, and even some respectable publishers, to circulate narratives often mythical and quite unauthorized.
The early part of the year 1857 was mainly occupied with the labor of writing. For this he had materials in the Journals which he had kept so carefully; but the business of selection and supplementing was laborious, and the task of arrangement and transcription very irksome. In fact, this task tried the patience of Livingstone more than any which he had yet undertaken, and he used to say that he would rather cross Africa than write another book. His experience of book-making increased his respect for authors and authoresses a hundred-fold!
We are not, however, inclined to think that this trial was due to the cause which Livingstone assigned,--his want of experience, and want of command over the English tongue. He was by no means an inexperienced writer. He had written large volumes of Journals, memoirs for the Geographical Society, articles on African Missions, letters for the Missionary Society, and private letters without end, each usually as long as a pamphlet. He was master of a clear, simple, idiomatic style, well fitted to record the incidents of a journey--sometimes poetical in its vivid pictures, often brightening into humor, and sometimes deepening into pathos. Viewing it page by page, the style of the _Missionary Travels_ is admirable, the chief defect being want of perspective; the book is more a collection of pieces than an organized whole: a fault inevitable, perhaps, in some measure, from its nature, but aggravated, as we believe, by the haste and pressure under which it had to be written. In his earlier private letters, Livingstone, in his single-hearted desire to rouse the world on the subject of Africa, used to regret that he could not write in such a way as to command general attention: had he been master of the flowing periods of the _Edinburgh Review,_ he thought he could have done much more good. In point of fact, if he had had the pen of Samuel Johnson, or the tongue of Edmund Burke, he would not have made the impression he did. His simple style and plain speech were eminently in harmony with his truthful, unexaggerating nature, and showed that he neither wrote nor spoke for effect, but simply to utter truth. What made his work of composition irksome was, on the one hand, the fear that he was not doing it well, and on the other, the necessity of doing it quickly. He had always a dread that his English was not up to the critical mark, and yet he was obliged to hurry on, and leave the English as it dropped from his pen. He had no time to plan, to shape, to organize; the architectural talent could not be brought into play. Add to this that he had been so accustomed to open-air life and physical exercise, that the close air and sedentary attitude of the study must have been exceedingly irksome; so that it is hardly less wonderful that his health stood the confinement of book-making in England, than that it survived the tear and wear, labor and sorrow, of all his journeys in Africa.