Robert Moffat by David J. Deane

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Apparently unimportant events frequently determine the whole course of
our lives, and a simple incident was now about to change the current of
this young man's life, and to convert the rising gardener into the
God-honoured and much-beloved missionary. How this came to pass we now
relate:

While at High Leigh, Robert Moffat had occasion to visit Warrington, a
town about six miles distant He set off one calm summer evening. All
nature seemed at rest, and thoughts of God and a feeling of admiration
for His handiworks took possession of the young man's mind. His life was
reviewed, and with thoughts full of hope he entered the town. Passing
over a bridge he noticed a placard. It contained the announcement of a
missionary meeting, over which the Rev. William Roby, of Manchester, was
to preside. He had never seen such an announcement before. He read the
placard over and over again, and, as he did so, the stories told by his
mother of the Moravian missionaries in Greenland and Labrador, which had
been forgotten for years, came vividly to mind. From that moment, his
choice was made; earthly prospects vanished: his one thought was, "how
to become a missionary?"

Many difficulties seemed to stand in the way between Robert and the
accomplishment of his desire, but the same Divine power which had
implanted the desire, prepared the way for its fulfilment. He visited
Manchester, shortly after the event just related, to be present at a
Wesleyan Conference; and while there, with much hesitancy and
trepidation, ventured to knock at the door of Mr. Roby's house and
request an interview with that gentleman. He was shown into the parlour,
and the man whom he had been hoping, yet dreaded, to see, quickly made
his appearance. "He received me with great kindness," said Moffat,
"listened to my simple tale, took me by the hand, and told me to be of
good courage."

The result of this interview was a promise on Mr. Roby's part to write
to the Directors of the London Missionary Society concerning him, and to
communicate their wishes to him as soon as they were received. In the
meantime Robert returned to his ordinary occupation.

After waiting a few weeks a summons came from Mr. Roby for Moffat to
visit Manchester again; and, with the view of his studying under the
care and instruction of that reverend gentleman, it was arranged that he
should accept a situation in a nursery garden belonging to Mr. Smith, at
Dukinfield, that place being near at hand. Moffat continued here about a
year, visiting Mr. Roby once or twice each week. Mr. and Mrs. Smith
were a pious and worthy couple, and their house was a house of call for
ministers. They were always ready for every good work whether at home or
abroad.

"In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths," is one
of the maxims of Holy Writ that should be engraven upon the heart and
mind of every youth and maiden. Robert Moffat's desire was for the glory
of God and the extension of the Redeemer's kingdom, and God was not only
opening the way for His servant, but was preparing a faithful and
devoted helpmate for him in his various spheres of labour through life.

Robert's employer had an only daughter, named Mary, beautiful of
countenance, but more beautiful in heart. She had been educated at the
Moravian school at Fairfield, and was distinguished for fervent piety
and deep sympathy with the missionary cause. The two young folks were
thrown together, mutual esteem deepened into love, and the maiden,
possessed with so large a missionary spirit, was prepared to share the
lot of the young herald of the Cross. For a time, however, it was
ordained that Robert should pursue his course alone.

After being at Dukinfield nearly a year, the Directors resolved to
accept the services of Robert Moffat. He left Mr. Smith's employment and
removed to Manchester, so that he might be close to Mr. Roby, to receive
such superintendence as was possible in his studies. This period
extended to but a few months, so that of college training and
opportunities Robert had little experience.

The time rapidly drew near for his departure abroad. A hurried visit was
paid to the parents whom he never expected to see again, and then he
awaited his call to the mission field.

On the 13th of September, 1816, after bidding farewell to Mr. Roby,
whose "kindness, like that of a father," wrote Moffat, "will not be
easily obliterated from my mind," he started for London. While in the
Metropolis he visited the Museum at the Rooms of the London Missionary
Society, and the following extract from a letter to his parents, in
connection with this visit, shows the spirit which actuated the youthful
missionary at this time:--

"I spent some time in viewing the Museum, which contains a great number
of curiosities from China, Africa, the South Seas, and the West Indies.
It would be foolish for me to give you a description. Suffice it to say
that the sight is truly awful, the appearance of the wild beasts is very
terrific, but I am unable to describe the sensations of my mind when
gazing on the objects of Pagan worship. Alas! how fallen are my
fellow-creatures, bowing down to forms enough to frighten a Roman
soldier, enough to shake the hardest heart. Oh that I had a thousand
lives, and a thousand bodies; all of them should be devoted to no other
employment but to preach Christ to these degraded, despised, yet beloved
mortals."

With such enthusiasm he prepared to enter upon the work that lay before
him.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

CHAPTER III.

DEPARTURE FOR THE CAPE.

The valedictory service was held at Surrey Chapel on the 30th of
September. Nine missionaries were set apart; four for the South Seas,
one of whom was John Williams, the martyr of Erromanga, and five for
South Africa. At first it had been intended that Robert Moffat should
accompany John Williams, but this was subsequently altered.

The missionaries for Africa embarked at Gravesend on the 18th of October
in the _Alacrity_, and after a prosperous voyage reached Cape Town on
the 13th of January, 1817.

Two of the party were appointed to stations within the colony; Moffat
and Kitchingman were destined for Namaqualand. Before they could proceed
on their journey, however, permission had to be obtained from the
Government, and this was at first refused.

While detained in the colony, Moffat lodged with a Dutch farmer, at a
village thirty-six miles from Cape Town, named Stellenbosch. Here he
learnt Dutch, an acquisition of great advantage to him in after life, as
it enabled him to preach to the Boers, and to as many of their native
servants as understood that language. He also accompanied the Rev.
George Thorn, of the Dutch Reformed Church, on an evangelistic tour. It
occupied six weeks, during which time they rode a distance of about
seven hundred miles.

After a further sojourn at Stellenbosch, Moffat visited Cape Town, and
busied himself in gaining such practical knowledge as came within his
reach. He also visited the military hospital there. Many of the soldiers
were Scotch, and he had a warm heart for soldiers, his brother Alexander
having gone to India in the ranks some years before.

At last the requisite permission came, and Moffat and Kitchingman
prepared for their journey. Waggons were bought, oxen hired, leave taken
of friends, and on the 22nd of September, 1817, Mr. and Mrs.
Kitchingman, Robert Moffat, and a missionary named Ebner, who, for a
time, had been with Africaner, and who had come to Cape Town for
supplies, set out on their way to Namaqualand.

The history of the Namaqualand Mission has been sketched in outline in
our introductory chapter. Africaner, although an outlaw and a terror to
the farmers of the colony, had a respect for the English. He visited the
missionaries on one occasion, prior to their removal to Warm Bath, and
said, "I love the English, for I have always heard that they are the
friends of the poor black man." He also sent his children to them for
instruction; yet subsequent events, as we have seen, enraged him, and
led him to destroy the mission station at Warm Bath.

The Rev. J. Campbell, in his first visit to Africa, 1812-1814, crossed
the interior of the continent to Namaqualand. During his journey, he
found in every village through which he passed the terror of
Africaner's name; and he afterwards said "that he and his retinue never
were so afraid in their lives." From Pella, where the mission station
then was, Mr. Campbell wrote a conciliatory letter to Africaner, in
consequence of which that chieftain agreed to receive a missionary at
his kraal. Mr. Ebner had been sent from Pella, and had been labouring
for a short time previous to his visit to the Cape in 1817. Good had
been accomplished, Africaner and his two brothers, David and Jacobus,
had been baptised, but then the situation of the missionary became
extremely trying, he lost influence with the people, and his property,
and even his life, were in danger.

Soon after leaving Cape Town, Mr. Ebner parted company with the
Kitchingmans and Moffat, and they pursued their way alone. The details
of the journey illustrate the difficulties of travelling in South Africa
in those days. "In perils oft," aptly expresses the condition of the
missionary in his wanderings, as he travelled mile after mile, often
over dreary wastes of burning sand, famished with hunger, parched with
thirst, with the howl of the hyena and the roar of the lion disturbing
his slumbers at night, and with Bushmen, more savage than either,
hovering near, ever ready to attack the weak and defenceless.

The farmers, from whom the travellers received hospitality as they
passed the boundaries of the colony, were very sceptical as to the
conversion of Africaner, and gloomy indeed were their predictions as to
the fate of the youthful missionary now venturing into the power of the
outlaw chief. One said Africaner would set him up for his boys to shoot
at, another that he would strip off his skin to make a drum with, and a
third predicted he would make a drinking-cup of his skull. A kind
motherly dame said, as she wiped the tear from her eye and bade him
farewell, "Had you been an old man it would have been nothing, for you
would soon have died, whether or no; but you are young, and going to
become a prey to that monster."

On one occasion Moffat halted at a farm belonging to a Boer, a man of
wealth and importance, who had many slaves. Hearing that he was a
missionary, the farmer gave him a hearty welcome, and proposed in the
evening that he should give them a service. To this he readily assented,
and supper being ended, a clearance was made, the big Bible and the
psalm-books were brought out, and the family was seated. Moffat inquired
for the servants, "May none of your servants come in?" said he.

"Servants! what do you mean?"

"I mean the Hottentots, of whom I see so many on your farm."

"Hottentots!" roared the man, "are you come to preach to Hottentots? Go
to the mountains and preach to the baboons; or, if you like, I'll fetch
my dogs, and you may preach to them."

The missionary said no more but commenced the service. He had intended
to challenge the "neglect of so great salvation," but with ready wit
seizing upon the theme suggested by his rough entertainer, he read the
story of the Syrophenician woman, and took for his text the words,
"Truth, Lord, yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their
masters' table." He had not proceeded far in his discourse when the
farmer stopped him, saying, "Will Mynherr sit down and wait a little, he
shall have the Hottentots."

He was as good as his word, the barn was crowded, the sermon was
preached, and the astonished Hottentots dispersed. "Who," said the
farmer, "hardened your hammer to deal my head such a blow? I'll never
object to the preaching of the Gospel to Hottentots again."

After a toilsome march, during which Mr. Kitchingman and Moffat took it
in turn to drive the cattle, losing some through the hyenas by the way,
they reached Bysondermeid, to which station Mr. and Mrs. Kitchingman had
been appointed. There Robert stayed one month, receiving much useful
information from Mr. Schmelen, the missionary whom Mr. Kitchingman had
come to replace, he having been ordered to Great Namaqualand, where he
had laboured before.

At length, his oxen being rested, Robert Moffat bade adieu to Mr. and
Mrs. Kitchingman, whose friendship he much valued, and with a guide and
drivers for the oxen started onward. Their way led through a
comparatively trackless desert, and they travelled nearly the whole
night through deep sand. Those were not the days of railway trains, and
travelling had to be undertaken in cumbrous, springless bullock-waggons,
several spare oxen being taken to provide for losses and casualties.
Towards morning the oxen were so exhausted that they began to lie down
in the yoke from fatigue, compelling a halt before water had been
reached. The journey was resumed the next day, but still no water could
be found.

As it appeared probable that if they continued in the same direction,
they would perish through thirst, they altered their course to the
northward, but the experiences were as bad as before. At night they lay
down exhausted and suffering extremely from thirst, and the next morning
rose at an early hour to find the oxen incapable of moving the waggon a
step farther. Taking them and a spade to a neighbouring mountain, a
large hole was dug in the sand, and at last a scanty supply of water was
obtained. This resembled the old bilge-water of a ship for foulness, but
both men and oxen drank of it with avidity.

[Illustration: WAGGON TRAVELLING IN SOUTH AFRICA.]

In the evening, when about to yoke the oxen to the waggon, it was found
that most of them had run off towards Bysondermeid. No time was to be
lost, so Moffat instantly sent off the remaining oxen with two men to
solicit assistance from Mr. Bartlett at Pella, while he remained
behind with his goods. "Three days," said he afterwards, "I remained
with my waggon-driver on this burning plain, with scarcely a breath of
wind, and what there was felt as if coming from the mouth of an oven. We
had only tufts of dry grass to make a small fire or rather flame; and
little was needed as we had scarcely any food to prepare. We saw no
human being, not a single antelope or beast of prey made its appearance,
but in the dead of night we sometimes heard the roar of the lion on the
mountain. At last when we were beginning to fear that the men had either
perished or wandered, Mr. Bartlett arrived on horseback, with two men
having a quantity of mutton tied to their saddles. I cannot conceive of
an epicure gazing on a table groaning under the weight of viands, with
half the delight that I did on the mutton."

[Illustration]

Fresh oxen, accustomed to deep sand, conveyed the weary travellers to
Pella, where Moffat remained a few days, being greatly invigorated in
mind and body by the Christian kindness of Mr. and Mrs. Bartlett and the
friendly attentions of the heathen converts.

Starting again, he came to the Orange River, crossing which was
generally a work of difficulty at that time. The native teacher from
Warm Bath, who had come to Pella to conduct Moffat to his village, led
the missionary to a ford opposite to that place. The waggon and its
contents were swam over on a fragile raft of dry willow logs--a
laborious and tedious operation, the raft having to be taken to pieces
after each journey, and the separate logs conveyed back again by
swimmers. All the goods being over, Robert was asked to place himself
upon the raft. Not altogether liking its appearance, and also wishing
to save the natives trouble, he took off his clothes and, leaving them
to be conveyed across, plunged into the stream. The natives were afraid
as they saw him approach the middle of the current, and some of their
most expert swimmers sprang in to overtake him, but in vain. When he
emerged on the northern bank, one of them came up out of breath and
said, "Were you born in the great sea water?"

Robert Moffat reached Africaner's kraal on the 26th of January, 1818,
and was kindly received by Mr. Ebner. The chief soon made his
appearance, and inquired if the new missionary had been appointed by the
Directors in London. Receiving an affirmative reply, he ordered a number
of women to come. Then pointing to a spot of ground he said to the
women, "There you must build a house for the missionary." In half an
hour the structure was completed, in appearance something like a
bee-hive. In this frail house, of sticks and native mats, Moffat lived
for nearly six months, being scorched by the sun, drenched by the rain,
exposed to the wind, and obliged often to decamp through the clouds of
dust; in addition to which, any dog wishing for a night's lodging could
force its way through the wall, sometimes to the loss of the
missionary's dinner next day. A serpent was occasionally found coiled in
a corner, or the indweller of the habitation had to spring up, in the
middle of the night, to save himself and his house from being crushed to
pieces during the nocturnal affrays of the cattle which roamed at large.
He lived principally upon milk and dried meat, until, after a time, he
was able to raise a little grain and garden stuff.

A few days after Moffat's arrival, Mr. Ebner departed, so that the young
missionary was left entirely alone in a trying and most difficult
position, a stranger in the midst of a strange people. "Here I was,"
said he, "left alone with a people suspicious in the extreme; jealous of
their rights which they had obtained at the point of the sword; and the
best of whom Mr. Ebner described as a sharp thorn. I had no friend and
brother with whom I could participate in the communion of saints, none
to whom I could look for counsel or advice. A barren and miserable
country; a small salary, about twenty-five pounds per annum. No grain,
and consequently no bread, and no prospect of getting any, from the want
of water to cultivate the ground, and destitute of the means of sending
to the Colony. These circumstances led to great searchings of heart, to
see if I had hitherto aimed at doing and suffering the will of Him in
whose service I had embarked. Satisfied that I had not run unsent, and
having in the intricate, and sometimes obscure course I had come, heard
the still small voice saying, 'This is the way, walk ye in it,' I was
wont to pour out my soul among the granite rocks surrounding this
station, now in sorrow, and then in joy; and more than once I have taken
my violin, once belonging to Christian Albrecht, and, reclining upon one
of the huge masses, have, in the stillness of the evening, played and
sung the well-known hymn, a favourite of my mother's--

'Awake, my soul, in joyful lays,
To sing the great Redeemer's praise.'"

Robert Moffat looked to his God for help and guidance, and his heart was
strengthened.

At this period the chief, Christian Africaner, was in a doubtful state
of mind; while Titus, his brother, a man of almost reckless courage, was
a fearful example of ungodliness, and a terror to most of the
inhabitants on the station. Soon after the commencement of his stated
services--which were, according to the custom of the missionaries at
that period, religious service morning and evening, and school for three
or four hours during the day--the heart of the youthful missionary was
much cheered by noticing the regular attendance of the chief. Although
not a fluent reader, the New Testament became his constant companion,
and a change passed over him apparent to all. The lion at whose name
many trembled became a lamb, and the love of Jesus Christ filled his
heart. He who was formerly like a fire-brand, spreading discord, enmity,
and war among the neighbouring tribes, was now ready to make any
sacrifice to avoid conflict, and besought parties at variance with each
other to be at peace.

Even Titus was subdued, and although he never made a profession, yet he
became a steady and unwavering friend to the missionary, and many times
ministered to his wants. "I hear what you say," he would reply when the
truth was pressed upon him, "and I think I sometimes understand, but my
heart will not feel." Two other brothers of the chief, David and
Jacobus, became believers and zealous assistants in the work of the
mission.

The extreme heat endured in the native house, and the character of the
food, milk and meat only, brought on a severe attack of bilious fever,
which in the course of two days induced delirium. Opening his eyes as
soon as consciousness returned, Moffat saw his attendant and Africaner
sitting beside his couch, gazing upon him with eyes full of sympathy and
tenderness. Taking some calomel he speedily recovered, and was soon at
his post again.

The place where Africaner dwelt being quite unsuitable for a permanent
mission-station, on account of the scarcity of water, it was determined
to take a journey northward to examine a country on the border of
Damaraland, where it was reported that fountains of water abounded.
There was, however, only one waggon and that a cripple, and neither
carpenters nor smiths were at the station to repair it. Without it they
could not go, so after thinking the matter over Moffat undertook its
repair. Before doing so he must needs have a forge, and a forge meant
bellows; but here was a difficulty, the native bellows were of no use
for the work in hand. He therefore contrived, by means of two goat-skins
and a circular piece of board, to make a pair of bellows of sufficient
power to fan the fire and heat the iron, and with a blue granite stone
for an anvil, a pair of tongs indicative of Vulcan's first efforts, and
a hammer, never intended for its present use, he successfully
accomplished his task, and afterwards repaired some gun-locks, which
were as essential for the comfort and success of the journey as the
waggon.

The party that set out was a large one, including Africaner, three of
his brothers, and Moffat. The country which they passed through was
sterile in the extreme, and the expedition proved a failure. They
therefore returned home again after an absence of a few weeks. The
school and mission services were resumed, but, as David and Jacobus
Africaner were now able assistants, Moffat undertook itinerating visits
on a more extensive scale than he had done before. For this purpose
Titus presented him with his only horse. Previously Moffat had ridden
upon a bullock with horns, a dangerous practice, as, if the bullock
stumbles, the rider may be thrown forward and transfixed upon them.

Privations and dangers frequently attended these itinerating journeys.
Referring to one of them Robert Moffat states, "After tying my Bible and
hymn-book in a blanket to the back of my saddle, and taking a good
draught of milk, I started with my interpreter, who rode upon an ox. We
had our guns, but nothing in our purse or scrip, save a pipe, some
tobacco, and a tinder-box. After a hot day's ride to reach a village,
the people would give us a draught of sweet milk, and then old and
young, assembling in a nook of the fold, among the kine, would listen to
my address on the great concerns of their soul's salvation. I exhorted
those who could read to read to others and try to teach them to do the
same, promising them a reward in heaven, for I had none to give on
earth. When service was over, having taken another draught of milk, and
renewed my conversation with the people, I lay down on a mat to repose
for the night. Sometimes a kind housewife would hang a bamboos, a wooden
vessel filled with milk, on a forked stick near my head, that I might,
if necessary, drink during the night."

Once he slept on the ground near the hut in which the principal man of
the village and his wife reposed. During the night a noise as of cattle
broken loose was heard. In the morning he remarked upon this to his
host, when that individual replied, "Oh, I was looking at the spoor this
morning, it was the lion!" adding that a few nights previously a goat
had been seized from the very spot on which Moffat had been sleeping.
Upon Moffat asking him why he had put him to sleep there, the man
replied, "Oh, the lion would not have the audacity to jump over on you."

Sometimes it happened that after travelling all day, hoping to reach a
village at night, the travellers would find when they got to the place
that all the people had gone. Then hungry and thirsty they had to pass
the night. In the morning after searching for water, and partaking of a
draught if they were successful in finding it, they would start off
again with their hunger unsatisfied, and deem themselves fortunate if
they overtook the migrating party that evening.

Of his ordinary manner of living at this time, he says, "My food was
milk and meat, living for weeks together on one, and then for a while on
the other, and again on both together. All was well so long as I had
either, but sometimes they both failed, and there were no shops in the
country where I could have purchased, and, had there been any, I must
have bought on credit, for money I had none."

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