Robert Moffat by David J. Deane

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The remainder of the year 1824 witnessed bloodshed and strife all
around. War among the Bechwanas, attacks by the marauders of the Long
Mountains, commotions among the interior tribes: the land was deluged
with blood; even the warlike Bangwaketsi were dispersed, and Makaba was
killed. Once again the missionaries had to flee with their families to
Griqua Town, leaving Mr. Hamilton, as he was without family in charge of
the new station, with two horses ready for flight in case of danger.

The end of the year found the Kuruman missionaries,--who now consisted
of Robert and Mary Moffat, Mr. and Mrs. Hughes, and Mr. Hamilton,--with
the exception of the last named, at Griqua Town.

The new station at the Kuruman had been occupied shortly before the
departure of the fugitives; and early in 1825, finding that the
immediate danger had passed, the Moffats, accompanied by Mr. and Mrs.
Hughes, rejoined Mr. Hamilton. Two events of a distressing character to
the Batlaping and their missionaries occurred about this time. The first
was the passage of two terrible hail-storms over a portion of the
country, destroying the crops, killing lambs, and stripping the bark
from trees. The second was the death of the young prince, Peclu, who had
an excellent disposition, was comparatively enlightened, and whose
influence the missionaries expected would have been most salutary among
his countrymen.

This sorrowful event, combined with a further attack upon the Batlaping
by the marauders, determined Mothibi and his people to leave their
present place of settlement and remove to the eastward. For a
considerable time, however, they remained in an unsettled state,
suffering from attacks, and leading a vagrant life.

The work of laying out the new station was proceeded with. Three
temporary dwellings had already been erected, consisting of a wooden
framework, filled up with reeds, and plastered within and without; the
foundations of more permanent dwellings had also been laid. Mr. Hughes,
who had been to Cape Town for supplies, returned, accompanied by a mason
named Millen and a few Hottentot assistants from Bethelsdorp. The
company at the station was a large one, and to provide them with food
was a work of difficulty.

The Kuruman fountain, the source of the Kuruman river, issues from
caverns in a little hill. It was the purpose of the missionaries to lead
the water from the river to irrigate their gardens. For this purpose a
trench was cut two miles in length. This was a work of great labour and
was attended by considerable danger. It was found necessary that the men
when working should have their guns with them, in case of being
surprised by the robbers who roved about. Moffat says, "it was dug in
troublous times."

Sickness and death entered the missionary dwellings. An infant son was
born to the Moffats, and five days after called away. Mr. Hughes was
laid low through a severe cold, and brought to the gates of death. When
all hope seemed to have vanished he began to amend, though his health
was not restored until he and Mrs. Hughes made a journey to the Cape. In
1827 he left Kuruman and removed to the Griqua Mission. The mother of
Mary Moffat died in October, 1825, but the news did not reach her
daughter in Africa until April, 1826.

Referring to this time Robert Moffat says: "Our situation during the
infancy of the new station, I shall not attempt to describe. Some of our
newly arrived assistants, finding themselves in a country where the
restraints of law were unknown, and not being under the influence of
religion, would not submit to the privations which we patiently endured,
but murmured exceedingly. Armed robbers were continually making inroads,
threatening death and extirpation. We were compelled to work daily at
every species of labour, most of which was very heavy, under a burning
sun, and in a dry climate, where only one shower had fallen during the
preceding twelve months. These are only imperfect samples of our
engagements for several years at the new station, while at the same
time, the language, which was entirely oral, had to be acquired."

Notwithstanding all the impediments to such an enterprise, Robert Moffat
had made some progress towards establishing a literature in the native,
or Sechwana tongue. A spelling-book, catechism, and some small portions
of Scripture had been prepared, and sent to the Cape to be printed, in
1825. Through a mistake, these were unfortunately sent on to England,
causing much disappointment and delay.

Things settled down somewhat in 1826. The discontented Hottentots
returned to the Colony, leaving the missionaries and Mr. Millen to carry
on the work of laying out the station, erecting the buildings, and the
other manual labour connected with the undertaking, assisted only by
such poor help as they could get from the Bechwanas.

The native population at the station had been much reduced. Such of the
Batlaping as had not moved away, had settled down about the Kuruman
valley. They did not oppose the Gospel, but they appeared quite
indifferent to it.

For several years the country had been parched through drought, but
early in 1826 rain fell plentifully. The earth was soon covered with
verdure, but the bright prospects of abundance were quickly cut off.
Swarms of locusts infested the land, and vegetation was entirely
destroyed. This led to great scarcity, and although the natives caught
and ate the locusts, hunger and suffering prevailed. The missionaries'
cattle could not be let out of sight, or they were instantly stolen. One
day two noted fellows from the mountains pounced down upon a man who had
charge of some oxen. They murdered the man and made off with an ox.

To become proficient in the Sechwana language was the earnest purpose of
Robert Moffat. At the end of the year 1826, having moved into his new
dwelling, built of stone, and the state of the country being somewhat
more tranquil, he left his home and family, to sojourn for a time among
the Barolongs, so that he might live exclusively with the natives and
attend to their speech.

He made the journey by ox-waggon, and was accompanied by the
waggon-driver, a boy, and two Barolongs who were journeying to the same
place as himself. The dangers attending these journeyings from tribe to
tribe were by no means imaginary, the following, related in Moffat's own
words, serving as an illustration of some of the perils often
encountered:

"The two Barolongs had brought a young cow with them, and though I
recommended their making her fast as well as the oxen, they humorously
replied that she was too wise to leave the waggon, even though a lion
should be scented. We took a little supper, which was followed by our
evening hymn and prayer. I had retired only a few minutes to my waggon
to prepare for the night, when the whole of the oxen started to their
feet. A lion had seized the cow only a few steps from their tails, and
dragged it to the distance of thirty or forty yards, where we distinctly
heard it tearing the animal and breaking its bones, while its bellowings
were most pitiful. When these were over, I seized my gun, but as it was
too dark to see half the distance, I aimed at the spot where the
devouring jaws of the lion were heard. I fired again and again, to which
he replied with tremendous roars, at the same time making a rush towards
the waggon so as exceedingly to terrify the oxen. The two Barolongs
engaged to take firebrands and throw them at him so as to afford me a
degree of light that I might take aim. They had scarcely discharged them
from their hands when the flames went out, and the enraged animal rushed
towards them with such swiftness, that I had barely time to turn the gun
and fire between the men and the lion. The men darted through some thorn
bushes with countenances indicative of the utmost terror. It was now the
opinion of all that we had better let him alone if he did not molest us.

"Having but a scanty supply of wood to keep up a fire, one man crept
among the bushes on one side of the pool, while I proceeded for the same
purpose on the other side. I had not gone far, when looking upward to
the edge of the small basin, I discerned between me and the sky four
animals, whose attention appeared to be directed to me by the noise I
made in breaking a dry stick. On closer inspection I found that the
large round, hairy-headed visitors were lions, and retreated on my hands
and feet towards the other side of the pool, when coming to my
waggon-driver, I found him looking with no little alarm in an opposite
direction, and with good reason, as no fewer than two lions with a cub
were eyeing us both, apparently as uncertain about us as we were
distrustful of them. We thankfully decamped to the waggon and sat down
to keep alive our scanty fire, while we listened to the lion tearing and
devouring his prey. When any of the other hungry lions dared to approach
he would pursue them for some paces with a horrible howl, which made our
poor oxen tremble, and produced anything but agreeable sensations to
ourselves. We had reason for alarm, lest any of the six lions we saw,
fearless of our small fire, might rush in among us."

[Illustration: BAROLONG WOMEN.]

From these dangers Moffat was mercifully preserved and after journeying
for six days he reached the village of a young chief named Bogachu. At
this place, and at one about twenty miles distant, he lived a
semi-savage life for ten weeks. To use a common expression he "made
himself at home" among them. They were kind and appeared delighted with
his company, especially as when food run scarce, he could take his gun
and shoot a rhinoceros or some other animal, when a night of feasting
and talking would follow.

Every opportunity was embraced by the missionary of imparting Christian
instruction to these people; their supreme idea of happiness, however,
seemed able to rise no higher than having plenty of meat. Asking a man,
who seemed more grave than the rest, what was the finest sight he could
desire, he replied, "A great fire covered with pots full of meat,"
adding, "How ugly the fire looks without a pot"

The object of the journey was fully gained; henceforth Robert Moffat
needed no interpreter; he could now speak and preach to the people in
their own tongue. He found all well on reaching home and prepared to
settle down with a feeling of ability to the work of translation.

The prospects of the mission at this time began to brighten. Several
thousands of the natives had gathered on the opposite side of the
valley, near the mission station. They were becoming more settled in
their minds, and would collect in the different divisions of the town
when the missionaries visited them; the public attendance at the regular
religious services daily increased, and the school was better attended.
No visible signs of an inward change in the natives could yet be seen,
but Moffat and his fellow-workers felt certain that this was not far
off.

War again intervened and darkened the brightening prospects. Once more
the missionaries, after prayerful consideration, felt it necessary to
flee to Griqua Town, suffering much loss of time and of property.
Happily the storm passed over, and, on returning to the Kuruman, they
found their houses, and such property as they had left behind, in good
order, a proof of the influence they were gaining over the once thievish
Bechwanas. Half the oxen and nearly all the cows belonging to the
missionaries were, however, dead, no milk could be obtained, and, worse
than these evils, the people had fled, leaving their native houses but
heaps of ashes.

Sorrowfully these servants of God resolved once more to resume their
labours. A few poor natives had remained at the station, whose numbers
were being increased by others who arrived from day to day.

At this trying time the hearts of Robert Moffat and his companions were
cheered by the arrival of the Rev. Robert Miles, the Society's
superintendent, who, having made himself conversant with the affairs of
the station, suggested the great importance of preparing something like
hymns in the native language. By the continued singing of these, he
stated the great truths of salvation would become imperceptibly written
on the minds of the people.

The suggestion so kindly made was acted upon, and Moffat prepared the
first hymn in the language. The spelling-books also arrived, which
enabled the missionaries to open a school in the Sechwana tongue. Mr.
Miles returned, and the stated labours of the mission were carried
forward. With few interruptions they had been continued for ten years
without fruit. But the dawn of a new era seemed now ready to rise above
the horizon.

Yet again, however, was their faith to be sorely tried by the terrible
scourge--war. The desperadoes consisted this time of a party advancing
from the Orange River, among whom were some Griquas. The suspense and
anxiety were great, but recourse was had to prayer. On this occasion the
missionaries determined to remain at their post. A first attack was
repulsed through the intrepidity of an escaped slave named Aaron
Josephs, and a peaceful interval intervened of about two months, when a
second attack on the mission premises was threatened. By Moffat's
directions, the heights at the back of the station were crowded with
men, to give the appearance of a large defending force, though probably
not a dozen guns could have been mustered among them. The assailants
seeing the preparations for defence, drew up at some distance, and,
after a short delay, sent forward two messengers with a flag of truce.
Moffat went out to meet them, and learned that a renegade Christian
Griqua named Jantye Goeman wished to see him at their camp.

A meeting was arranged half way between the station and the camp, and
Jantye, who was ashamed to let the missionary see his face, as he had
known him at Griqua Town, tried to lay all the blame upon another
renegade, a Coranna chief named Paul, who had, in days gone by,
entertained Robert Moffat and visited his dwelling.

At this moment a waggon was seen approaching, and fearing it might
contain some one from Griqua Town, and seeing that a hostile movement
was made towards it, Moffat turned to Jantye and said, "I shall not see
your face till the waggon and its owners are safe on the station." He
instantly ran off and brought the waggon through, when it was found to
contain the Wesleyan missionaries Mr. and Mrs. Archbell from Platberg.

At last, after much hesitation, Paul himself came near. He could not
look at Moffat, and kept his hat drawn down over his eyes. He told the
missionary that he himself need have no fear, but that revenge should be
had upon the Batlaping who were at Kuruman.

"I shall have their blood and their cattle too," said Paul, as his eyes
glared with fury.

Long and patiently Moffat argued with him, showing him the enormity of
his crimes. At last the victory was won. No shot was fired, and both the
station and the Batlaping were saved. Turning to his men, and referring
to some of the missionary's cattle which had been stolen, he cried,
"Bring back those cows and sheep we took this morning."

It was done. Then he said, "I am going. There are the things of your
people. Will Mynheer not shake hands with me for once?"

"Of course I will," said Moffat, "but let me see your face."

"That I will not, indeed," he replied, "I do not want to die yet. I can
see your face through my hat."

The rude hand of war was henceforth stayed, and the land had peace for
half-a-century, during which time great and happy changes took place at
the Kuruman station.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER VII.

THE AWAKENING.

The long delayed, and fervently prayed for time had come at last. For
ten weary years these earnest and faithful missionaries had laboured
without seeing any results. Now their hearts were to rejoice as they
should witness the work of the Holy Spirit, and see those over whom they
had so long mourned, brought to the Saviour, and out of heathen darkness
into Gospel light.

"The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof,
but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth;" so was it
with the awakening among the Bechwanas at the Kuruman. There seemed no
apparent cause for the intensity of feeling that was now displayed by
these people. Men, who had scorned the idea of shedding a tear, wept as
their hearts were melted. The chapel became a place of weeping, and
some, after gazing intently upon the preacher, fell down in hysterics.
The little chapel became too small to hold the numbers who flocked to
it, and with the voluntary aid of Aaron Josephs a new building,
fifty-one feet long by sixteen wide, with clay walls and thatched roof,
was erected to serve as a school-house and place of worship, until the
large stone church, which was to form the most prominent feature of the
station, should be completed.

This temporary church was opened in May, 1829, and in the following
month, after very careful examination, six candidates for baptism were
selected from among the inquirers. Speaking of these converts Robert
Moffat said, "It was truly gratifying to observe the simplicity of their
faith, implicitly relying on the atonement of Christ, of which they
appeared to have a very clear conception, considering the previous
darkness of their minds on such subjects."

They were baptised on the first Sabbath in July, a large number of
spectators from the neighbouring towns, and a party of Griquas, being
present. In the evening the missionaries, the new disciples, and a
Griqua, twelve in all, sat down to the Lord's table. In connection with
this event an interesting anecdote is related showing the strong faith
of Mary Moffat!

On one occasion, some time before this event, when all seemed dark, her
friend Mrs. Greaves of Sheffield had written to Mary Moffat kindly
inquiring if there was anything of use which she could send. The reply
returned was, "Send us a communion service, we shall want it some day."
Communication between the Kuruman and England was tardy then, and before
an answer came to her letter the darkness increased, and the Bechwanas
seemed as far from salvation as ever. On the day preceding the reception
of the first converts into the Kuruman Church, a box arrived from
England, which had been twelve months on the road, and in it were found
the communion vessels that Mary Moffat had asked for more than two years
before.

Great as was the change, the missionaries rejoiced with trembling. They
knew that there were great prejudices to be overcome, and that the
relation in which the Christians stood to their heathen neighbours would
expose their faith to trial. But they prayed and believed that He who
had begun the good work would carry it on.

The change of heart speedily produced a change in dress and habits.
Those who had been baptised had previously procured decent raiment, and
prepared it for the occasion with Mrs. Moffat's assistance. A
sewing-school had hitherto been uncalled for, the women's work having
been that of building houses, raising fences, and tilling the ground;
now Mrs. Moffat met those who desired to learn as often as her strength
would permit, and soon she had a motley group of pupils, very few of the
whole party possessing either a frock or a gown. The scarcity of
materials was a serious impediment to progress, but ornaments, which
before the natives had held in high repute, were now parted with to
purchase the skins of animals, which being prepared almost as soft as
cloth were made into jackets, trousers, and gowns. When a visit was paid
by a trader, British manufactures were eagerly bought.

In the progress of improvement some amusing incidents occurred. A man
might be seen in a jacket with one sleeve, because the other was not yet
finished; or others went about in duffel jackets with sleeves of cotton
of various colours; gowns like Joseph's coat were worn, and dresses of
such fantastic shapes, that to tell the fashion of the same would have
been a puzzle.

To Mrs. Moffat general application was made both by males and females.
One brought skins to be cut into dresses, another wanted a jacket, a
third a pattern, while a fourth brought his jacket sewed upside down,
and asked why it did not fit. Fat, which before they always considered
was to be rubbed on their bodies or deposited in their stomachs, they
now found useful in making candles to give light in their dwellings.

The prospects of the missionaries continued cheering, and the increased
anxiety for instruction and growth in knowledge among the candidates
greatly strengthened their hands. "I seek Jesus," one would say; a
second, "I am feeling after God, I have been wandering, unconscious of
my danger, among beasts of prey; the day has dawned, I see my danger."
The missionaries were cautious men, and were slow to receive members
into their little church, but the evidence was complete that numbers
were saved.

The happy death of a native woman about this time afforded them much
encouragement. When she knew her end was near, she said to those around,
"I am going to die. Weep not because I am going to leave you, but weep
for your sins and your souls. With me all is well, for do not suppose
that I die like a beast, or that I shall sleep for ever in the grave.
No! Jesus has died for my sins; He has said he will save me, I am going
to be with Him." Thus one who a few months before was as ignorant as the
cattle, departed with the full assurance of an eternal life beyond the
grave.

Rumours had for some time past reached the Kuruman station of a strong
and warlike people who dwelt to the eastward, spoke another language,
and were strangers to the Bechwanas. In the latter portion of 1829, two
envoys were specially sent from Moselekatse, the king of this people,
the Matabele, to the mission station at Kuruman, to learn about the
manners and teaching of the white men there.

These envoys, who were two of the king's head men, were entertained, the
principal objects, industries, and methods of living were pointed out to
them; but their greatest wonder was excited when they beheld the public
worship in the mission chapel. They listened to the hymns, and to the
address, part of which only they understood, and were much surprised
when they heard that the hymns were not war songs.

When the time came for the ambassadors to depart, they begged Robert
Moffat to accompany them, as they were afraid of the Bechwana tribes
through whom they would have to pass on their return journey. This
circumstance led to his visiting the warlike Moselekatse, over whom he
obtained a marvellous influence.

The details of the journey we must pass over. As they advanced they saw
evidences on every hand of the terrible Mantatees, and the still more
terrible Matabele. In places, where populous towns and villages had
been, nothing remained but dilapidated walls and heaps of stones,
mingled with human skulls. The country had become the abode of reptiles
and beasts of prey; the inhabitants having perished beneath the spears
and clubs of their savage enemies.

The reception accorded Robert Moffat by Moselekatse may best be
described in the missionary's own words:--

"We proceeded directly to the town, and on riding into the centre of the
large fold, we were rather taken by surprise to find it lined by eight
hundred warriors, besides two hundred who were concealed on each side of
the entrance, as if in ambush. We were beckoned to dismount, which we
did, holding our horses' bridles in our hands. The warriors at the gate
instantly rushed in with hideous yells, and leaping from the earth with
a kind of kilt round their bodies, hanging like loose tails, and their
large shields, frightened our horses. They then joined the circle,
falling into rank with as much order as if they had been accustomed to
European tactics. Here we stood, surrounded by warriors, whose kilts
were of ape skins, and their legs and arms adorned with the hair and
tails of oxen, their shields reaching to their chins and their heads
adorned with feathers.

"A profound silence followed for some ten minutes; then all commenced a
war-song, stamping their feet in time with the music. No one approached,
though every eye was fixed upon us. Then all was silent, and Moselekatse
marched out from behind the lines with an interpreter, and with
attendants following, bearing meat, beer, and other food. He gave us a
hearty salutation and seemed overjoyed."

The waggons were objects that struck the dusky monarch with awe. He
examined them minutely, especially the wheels; one point remained a
mystery, how the iron tire surrounding the wheel came to be in one piece
without end or joint. Umbate, the head-man, who had visited the mission
station, explained what he had seen in the smith's shop there. "My
eyes," said he, "saw that very hand," pointing to Moffat's hand, "cut
these bars of iron, take a piece off one end, and then join them as you
now see them." "Does he give medicine to the iron?" the monarch
inquired. "No," said Umbate, "nothing is used but fire, a hammer, and a
chisel."

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