3 September: Boreham on James Hannington

An African Centenary
On September 3, 1847, the world was unspeakably enriched by the birth in Sussex of Bishop James Hannington, whose adventurous life and heroic death are numbered among the most colourful traditions of the African continent. Africa is preeminently the land of mystery, of romance, and of sacrifice. From time immemorial its trackless deserts, its impenetrable forests, its inland seas, its secret cities, its thunderous cataracts, and its immense rivers have lured from their distant homes the most dauntless spirits of all nations. The Phoenicians, the Egyptians, the Assyrians, and the Greeks, dreaming wild and wondrous dreams of the interior of Africa, sent countless expeditions to test the accuracy of their imaginings. The Pharaohs, the Ptolemies, and the Caesars, one after the other sent wise men to penetrate the mysteries that baffled them.

Later on, Spain and Portugal, Holland and France, Germany and Belgium, as well, of course, as Great Britain, despatched their hardiest explorers into the vast and unknown land. Very little was discovered, however, until at the end of the 18th century, Mungo Park inaugurated a new age. His breathtaking records of the inconceivable spaciousness of the weird continent, with his vivid descriptions of its gigantic fauna and its luxurious flora captivated the imagination of mankind. It kindled the enthusiasm and directed the consecration of men liked Livingstone, Burton, Speke, Grant, Stanley, and a host of others; a startled world rubbed its eyes and awoke to greet the new day; and the doors of the great closed land swung open to an imposing succession of pathfinders. Thus it comes about that Africa has a record of hazardous travel that can never now be equalled; and, high on the scroll of illustrious names woven into its story, the name of James Hannington takes a conspicuous place.

The Best Of Men For The Biggest of Lands
Hannington had the ball at his feet from the start. Born in a beautiful home in the most charming section of the Sussex countryside, he was delicately and carefully reared by parents of fine character, rich culture, and great refinement. He himself describes the scene of his childhood as a perfect paradise. He was not only instructed in all the arts, crafts, and sciences, but encouraged to play his part in all outdoor pastimes and pursuits. In the year in which he came of age, he went up to Oxford and soon became immensely popular there. He is described as the kind of man whom you could not pass on the street without conferring upon him the natural homage of a second glance. He was tall, lithe, handsome, and splendidly proportioned. Every nerve and sinew seemed to be under perfect control. His face was vigorous and arresting. Without seeming in the least degree self-assertive or pugnacious, it suggested boundless energy and dauntless resolution.

Standing thus on the threshold of destiny, he appears to be one of fortune's darlings. All that exceptional gifts, careful training, intensive travel and the highest education can do for a man has been done for him. Although still young, he has explored the historic sites of his native land; has visited the most famous cities of the continent; and has navigated, in his own yacht, the ancient waterways of Europe. A born naturalist, he collected in all kinds of out-of-the-way places, unusual animals, strange birds, fish of which he had never before heard, and a wealth of curious plants and grasses. Wherever, he went, the woods and the waters took him into their confidence, and freely yielded up their secrets. Everything seemed to be fitting him for his work in the wilds: if he had cherished some inkling of his destiny he could scarcely have submitted himself to a better preparation.

Ultimate Triumph Follows Initial Disaster
While Hannington was preparing himself for his life work, David Livingstone was moving towards the climax and the close of his historic career. When Hannington went to Oxford, everybody was asking what had become of Livingstone: the African jungle seemed to have swallowed him up: nobody knew whether he was alive or dead. Hannington was 24 when Stanley found the lost explorer at Ujiji, and he was 26 when Livingstone's body was brought by the natives from Old Chitambo's village in East Africa and laid with the greatest of the great in Westminster Abbey. These events, moving the whole world, made a particularly profound impression on Hannington's plastic and impressionable mind.

And when, not long after, two distinguished missionaries were massacred on the shores of Lake Victoria Nyanza, sentiment crystallised into resolution. He had passed, in the interval, through a deep religious experience. The tragic intelligence that depressed everybody else sounded in his ears like a challenge. Somebody ought to go out and fill the gap; and, if somebody, why not he? He sailed in 1882. The step seemed at first to have been a ghastly blunder. He had sacrificed health and happiness in England for sickness and misery in Africa. Among the malarial bogs and jungles he was beset by fever after fever. For weeks on end he could not stagger to his feet. He was reduced to a skeleton: his emaciation shocked all who saw him. Clearly, there was nothing for it but a return to England. He returned: quickly regained his strength; was almost immediately appointed Bishop of Eastern Equatorial Africa and hurried back to the land that had treated him so cruelly. Strangely enough, his health was thenceforth as robust as it had formerly been precarious. During the next few years he did a work that is still regarded as having laid the foundation on which the subsequent evangelisation and civilisation of Central Africa has been based. He was killed by savages at the age of 38; a great cathedral, capable of seating 5000 people, now marks the spot on which he fell: and no name in the variegated pageant of African history is held in greater honour than is his.

F W Boreham

Image: James Hannington