Visit to England
Toward the end of 1838 the Moffats started for Cape Town. If no other reason had called for the journey it was necessary for health; but apart from this, the translation of the New Testament was now complete, and the printing was too heavy a task to be accomplished on the station. It proved that Cape Town was no better off in this respect. No ofiSce there was in a position to undertake book printing on the scale required, and it became olain that the work would have to be done in England.
A passage was accordingly taken. The ship was on her way from China. She was not of the best, being small, and carrying troops; but there was little or no choice, and the voyagers had to embark under circumstances calling for the exercise of great faith and patience. A severe epidemic of measles was raging at the Cape, of which the Moffat family and their native attendants had come in for a heavy share; and there was also much sickness on board the ship. There was no alternative but to embark at the time fixed. Friends at the Cape behaved with their usual kindness, and especially Mr. Mathew, of Claremont, who smoothed over many difficulties and made matters easier for the almost bewildered missionary and his wife in a way they could never forget to the last hour of their lives.
They had not yet left Table Bay when a daughter was born. In a few hours the ship put to sea, but severe weather set in, with contrary winds, and in the midst of the general distress it became apparent to the mother that her beloved Jamie was sinking. He had never thoroughly overcome the measles, and dysentery had followed. Three days after the birth of his sister he passed away at the age of six years. His mother, finding all around her prostrate with sea-sickness, had him brought and laid beside her in the cot from which she could not rise. Amidst the storm he lay upon her arm peacefully talking of the angels who should bear to the heavenly land the spirits of children, and with the words, “Oh, that will be joyful, when we meet to part no more,” on his lips, he fell asleep in Jesus.
For a while the life of another of the children trembled in the balance, but his time was not yet come, and in two or three weeks all were recovered. The voyage was tedious. It was not until the sixth of June, nearly three months from the date of sailing, that the ship cast anchor off Cowes, to await, in the leisurely fashion of the time, further orders from London. Mary Moffat was glad to set foot on land with the children, and she was welcomed and entertained by the same friends from whose house she had embarked twenty years before. Her husband was in no hurry to land, and remained on board to attend to the baggage and write letters.
The clergyman of the parish was the first Christian brother to welcome Robert Moffat to his native land. He went on board in the dark, hearing that there was a missionary, and stayed an hour or two, filling with great joy and comfort the heart of the shy and diffident man who shrank from landing on what had come to be like a strange country to him. The ship was ordered to London, and in a few days with furled sails she was being towed up the Thames by a steam tug, a new and strange sensation to the South African family, even to Moffat himself, for when he left, in 18 1 8, steam navigation was in its babyhood.
His reception in London was a surprise for which he was scarcely prepared. He found himself at once plunged into a whirlpool of public meetings even before he could get his luggage through the custom-house, that bugbear of unfortunate travellers so dear to the official mind. It was with the utmost difficulty that he could get liberty to visit his own friends. Twenty years had made a great difference in the home of Mary Moffat’s youth. The mother had gone to her rest. Of three brothers, one had died a few months before in Manchester, another was in the United States, and the third, John, was a missionary in Madras. The father was getting old, and had been obliged by infirmity and by adverse circumstances to give up the nursery at Dukinfield, and to retire to a cottage at Flixton.
Great changes had also come over the circle at Inverkeithing. A brother and two sisters had passed away. The parents were, however, still comparatively hale and hearty when they welcomed back the son from whom they had parted with but little expectation of ever seeing him again; whose career they had watched with growing satisfaction, and who, they were willing to admit, had not disappointed their hopes.
It was also the privilege of Robert and Mary Moffat to meet again many faithful friends who had shown unwavering constancy. Of these there was Elizabeth Lees, of Manchester, who, with her sister Mary, wife of Stephen Sheldon, never faltered or failed to keep up a friendship commenced in the days of girlhood. The churches assembling in Grosvenor Street, Manchester, and in Albion Chapel at Ashton-under-Lyne, still contained many who had known Mary Smith, and throughout the long absence a constant and faithful correspondence had been kept up. Letters from Lattakoo — or, as it is now more correctly called, Kuruman — came to be treated as circular epistles. Copies were made and sent round, and the station received many proofs of the heartfelt liberality which spoke in practical language, and made many things possible which otherwise would have been left undone. Another faithful friend — one of that goodly company of whom none are now living — was Mrs. Greaves, of Sheffield. For many long years she and others likeminded had failed not to encourage their missionary brother and sister with sympathetic prayers and kindly deeds. Miss Lees lived to see her friend on her return, but was already nearing the confines of the other world, and died a few months after.
Mofiat was not allowed to linger long among his own people. The popular demand for his services as a missionary deputation could not be withstood. At that time there was an enthusiasm for foreign missions such as has scarcely been seen since. The missionary heart of England had been stirred to its depths by the recent visits of many good and earnest workers in various parts of the world; especially by John Williams, the impression made by whose visit was soon to be deepened in so tragical a manner by his martyrdom at Erromanga. The Malagasy refugees were also in England, the objects of widespread interest. It was thus ordered that Moffat’s visit was well timed. The public mind was keenly alive to impression, and it was given to him to take an instant hold, the effects of which cannot be estimated. He was hurried from town to town with scant opportunity for a moment’s rest. The country was not then covered with a network of railways. Much of the travelling had to be done by coach, and the mere travelling called for more than ordinary strength and endurance. There was in all this, of course, a sense of pleasurable excitement and a glow of sympathy and interest which made labour and fatigue of no account; but Moffat’s heart was all the
MOFFA T’S LITERAR Y LABOURS. ii;^
time longing to be at the work which had brought him home, the printing of the Sechwana New Testament.
When he landed, his hope had been to get this work speedily accomplished, and then to slip away again to South Africa belore the winter; but it was not until the end of October that he was able even to make a beginning, and to get settled in London with his family. To carry his own translation of the New Testament through the press meant not merely a correction of proof sheets, but further revision of the text, for he was never satisfied with his work. He was far more conscious than any one else could be of his deficiencies. When he went out as a missionary he knew nothing of the original languages. It was only by painfully laborious comparison of many authorities, and by collation of the Dutch with the English version, that he could satisfy himself of having grasped the meaning of the original; and having so grasped it, there was still the task of putting it into Sechwana. From the officials and the committee of the Bible Society he had always the kindest sympathy and co-operation. Loyal and devoted as he ever was to his own Society, the tie of affection to the kindred institution was even stronger and deeper.
Whilst carrying through the printing of the New Testament, it was suggested that the Psalms would be a valuable addition. A few of these had already been translated. With his usual energy the work was at once taken in hand, and when the New Testament appeared, the Book of Psalms was printed and bound up along with it.
By a happy coincidence, Moffat’s brother-in-law, who had gone out as a missionary to Madras a few years after his sister left for South Africa, arrived in England. He did not know when he sailed from India that the Moffats were also on their way. The most he had looked for was possibly to see something of them at the Cape, which was then the port of call. Between him and his sister there was a strong bond of affection. He had been led to become a follower of Christ, and to give himself to missionary work, by her example and influence. They again met with no ordinary joy in the blessing which had been accorded to each in their Master’s work in different parts of the world.
The winter was spent in London, as far as possible in the work referred to already. This was much interrupted by the incessant and imperious demands of many supporters of missionary enterprise. At last respite was gained in a fashion not altogether to be desired. The exposure to cold air returning home late at night, after speaking at densely-packed meetings, brought on so severe an illness as to bring the doctors upon the scene. All public speaking was for the time absolutely forbidden, and Moffat was glad to utilize the leisure thus gained. He had taken up his abode with bis family at Walworth, where they attended the ministry of George Clayton. On the first Sunday as they entered the chapel they were unknown. The appearance of the somewhat foreign-looking family with a native servant attracted the kindly interest of many, but especially of the Misses Eisdell, who were ready for every good work, and who felt a pity for these evident strangers. The tall sunburnt man, in anything but clerical garb, was supposed to be the captain of a ship! Inquiries were made, and George Clayton and his people were delighted to find amongst them unawares the man whose fame had already reached their ears. This was the commencement of a lifelong friendship with the Eisdells, whose tender and loving ministrations never ceased till they were called away from a career of hallowed usefulness which is fragrant in the remembrance of hundreds who had the privilege of being their pupils.
It was arranged that Moffat should preach a sermon in connection with the anniversary services of the Society in May, 1840. To get him, or rather his throat, into order for the strain of public speaking, he was sent down to Brighton, and taken in hand by the Rev. J. N. Goulty. With him and with his family there sprang up another of those devoted friendships with which the lives of Robert and Mary Moffat were singularly enriched and brightened. It was given to them not only to make, but to keep friends even unto death.
The anniversary meetings were an overflowing success. The Tabernacle in Moorfields was crowded by a congregation so absorbed that they listened to the close of a discourse which took more than two hours in its delivery. At Exeter Hall the throng was so great, that after making his speech in the larger room Moffat had to go and give it again in the smaller one, which was crammed with a second audience.
In the month of August a daughter had been added to the family band. She was born in the cottage of her grandfather at Flixton, and was named Jane Gardiner, after her father’s aunt.
The New Testament was ready, but the pressure of public engagements had retarded the translation of the Psalms; and as there was no likelihood of the requisite leisure being obtained before the end of the year, all hope of a speedy return to Africa was gone. Two men had, however, been detailed to reinforce the Bechwana Mission, William Ross and David Livingstone. The former, though not so well known to the world as his distinguished
A/A R V MOFFA T L ONGS TO RE TURN. 1 57
companion, was a faithful and laborious missionary, who died at the post of duty after twenty-three years’ service in Bechwanaland.
Mary Moffat to Robert Hamilton.
“Sheffield, November ■z’-^, 1840.
“My dear Brother Hamilton, — It was my intention to write letters long and many by our dear brethren and sister now going out to join you, but I have found it impracticable. This grieves me the more as I know that my dear Robert will be still less able to spare time to do it. Since my baby was born he has never been with us except for a few hours at a time, and since the 8th of October I have not seen him, as he is in Scotland interesting his countrymen with African details, which are everywhere devoured with avidity. We congratulate you and brother and sister Edwards on an accession to your numbers, and we think very highly of them. Of Mr. Ross we have seen the most, and the more we saw of him the better we liked him. Mr. Moffat will soon write on the subject, and enable you to judge of what will be best for them to turn their attention to.
“I am sure you will greatly enjoy the company of the two missionaries, both being Scotchmen and plain in their manners. I do hope they will all be a blessing to the country. They must of course look to our garden for their present supplies. Anything about the premises they can make use of You must not from this infer that we are not to return. No! if Moffat lives we shall return, but it cannot be immediately. The Psalms have to be finished, the Selection reprinted, and perhaps the hymns too, and besides all this the public is determined to have a book. You will smile, and so do I, for I have felt opposed to it till very lately, but I see it is of no use to refuse. It must be so. I fear this will detain us very long. Our present plan is to leave this time next year, but I doubt very much; it will require another winter. Mr. Moffat says not, but I fear, for he will again be sent to different parts of the country where he has not yet been. I long to get home. I fear I shall forget what I knew of the language. I long to see the spot again where we have so long toiled and suffered, to see our beloved companions in the toil and suffering, and to behold our swarthy brethren and sisters again; and I long for my own home, for though loaded with the kindness of friends, and welcome everywhere, still home is homely I
“We have, however, much that is painful to anticipate: the parting with some of our children, and my aged father, whose circumstances are such as require the exercise of strong faith to believe that he will always be comfortably provided for should he live long — he has entered his seventy-eighth year. Moffat’s parents have also to be left, our dear brethren according to the flesh to be parted with, and many kind Christian friends. In fact, long as our visit to England is, it is a state of constant excitement, bustle, and anxiety. We are seldom together as a family. I should have accompanied Mr. Moffat in many of his journeys, but the Lord has given me other work to do. I have two lovely little girls whom you have never seen, and they are sweet little ties. I enjoy good health: one reason may be I am exposed to no hardships; everywhere well taken care of as a hothouse plant, so that I am not exposed to the inclemency of the seasons.
Thus far the Lord has been gracious to us, and I trust He will continue so. My husband is terribly worked, but keeps well thus far in the season. How his head stands it I know not. Our dear children are doing well according to their capacity. I have done what I could to persuade Livingstone to marry, but he seems to decline it.”
Ross was married, but Livingstone at this time had other views on the subject, and held them in spite of the motherly advice of Mary Moffat. She had never forgotten what her own Robert had gone through as a forlorn bachelor in Namaqualand, and her kind heart was sore to see any one with such a prospect before him. But the Disposer of events had ordered it otherwise. The two missionaries sailed for the Cape in the course of the year 1840, and it was a great joy to Moffat to be able to send with them an instalment of good things, consisting of five hundred copies of the complete New Testament in the Sechwana language. A few months later he had the still greater joy of sending out five times that number of Testaments, with which were bound up the Psalms. These he had translated in the intervals of the distraction and excitement of public work, to which he was called in almost every town in the kingdom. Scarcely were the Psalms out of his hands when he undertook a revision of the Scripture Lessons, a selection from the Old and New Testaments, suited to the circumstances of the Bechwana churches. By the liberal aid of members of the Society of Friends an edition of six thousand of these was carried through the press. Nothing but herculean strength and indomitable will could have enabled him to go through with these manifold labours. Towards the end of the year 1841, he managed to seclude himself for a time from public engagements, and to devote himself to the preparation of his book, the well-known “Labours and Scenes in South Africa.” The work was published in the spring of 1842, and was a great success. Scarcely had the last proof sheets left his hands, when he was called upon to meet the imperious demands of the churches. He never could say no to any call to what seemed to him like an opportunity of serving the missionary cause and for some months he was almost swept away with a torrent of engagements, which scarcely gave him a moment’s breathing time day or night. It was a time of great anxiety to his faithful partner, who, naturally anxious in disposition, viewed with fear, almost with resentment, the demands that were made on her husband’s powers both of mind and body. Writing to his parents in May, 1842, she says:
“We have great reason to be thankful for the completion of the book, for many a time have I trembled lest he should become poorly before it was finished, and have to lay it aside and disappoint the public. He has found it an arduous task. I always dreaded it, and often vifished he would not do it, but had I known how formidable a work it would be I should have felt more opposed to it. I can assure you his head is thoroughly tired, and he ought to have at least a fortnight’s relaxation; but this was out of the question. He has had some engagements, for the middle and latter end of this month, standing over for six months, and these he could not break; and not being able to finish so soon as he had hoped, he has consequently been sadly hurried. He was some days in Buckinghamshire last week; and yesterday morning, after sitting up till two o’clock to correct, he had to depart at seven for Cambridgeshire, there to labour very hard indeed, as the printed bills testify. I am anxious to hear how he gets on, for he was quite unfit; he said he was so fatigued that his head felt empty. If all be well I expect him here to-morrow evening, when, if possible, I hope we shall go down to Brighton for two days at least; as, by what I consider a merciful providence, some mistake has occurred, so as to leave next Sabbath vacant — although Mr. Arundel is at his wit’s end to answer the numerous demands for his services. A day or two there at his leisure, enjoying the fine air and the good society of Mr. Goulty’s family, will do him great good.’’
Although living a life of almost insupportable distraction, racked with constant care about her husband, looking forward to her parting with dear friends and with some of her children, Mary Moffat still found time to indulge in those friendships which so brightened and widened her life, and gave flow to her far-reaching sympathies. The following letter was addressed to the wife of Mr. Jacob Unwin, of London — then, as may be gathered, a great sufferer, but soon to enter into rest. She and her husband had greatly endeared themselves by their kindly interest in the children — an interest which was continued by him, and led to important consequences to more than one member of the family:
“At my Father’s House, near Manchester,
“Nov. 26, 1842
“My very dear Friend, — Though I can hardly persuade myself that you are still an inhabitant of this lower world, I cannot resist the strong inclination I have to address you; and though I seem to stand on holy ground while thus attempting to address one who is on the confines of the heavenly world and calmly closing her eyes on terrestrial things, having to-day (for the first time for many weeks) a little leisure, my thoughts will rest upon you, and impel me to make an effort to express to you the sympathy we have had with you and your beloved husband in the extremely afflicting circumstances in which you have been placed for some time past. Our friends at Walworth 16o CONSOLATION FOR A DYING BED.
having kindly communicated with me from time to time, although we have been under perpetual excitement and fatigue, our minds have hovered over the trying scene, and when we could do no more, we have breathed a prayer for you and yours.
“Oh, my friends, you are indeed enduring chastening, and doubt not it is as seeing Him who is invisible. He has before caused you to pass through the fire without being burned, and will also be with you when you pass through the floods, that they do not overflow you. Your graces of faith and patience are now severely proved; but when He has tried you, you shall come forth as gold, and shall shine for ever and ever to the glory of His name.
“It is with reluctance that I introduce to your notice my own affairs at a time when you must have almost ceased to think of friends so distant as we; but it would be cold of me while I am troubling you with these lines not to notice your labour of love towards our dear boy and ourselves, the kind and maternal interest you took in his being comfortably fixed, to fit himself for the arduous work in which he is anxious to be engaged, and your personal endeavours to further the object we have in view. All these have made an impression on our minds never to be erased, and we desire to express our gratitude for all that you accomplished and for all that you intended — for it was evident to me that it was your intention to be as a mother to him when his own was far removed, In this I had the fullest confidence, and must therefore consider that we also are losers by your removal from this world. Our prayer is that your own dear children may experience the Divine favour and love all their lives long, and at last unite with yourself and their beloved father in singing the praises of that dear Saviour who shed His blood for them. Oh! my dear friend, I feel very solemn while thus taking my farewell. These I am taking every day, till they become a common sound. I have within the last few weeks bid farewell to many aged persons who are very dear to me, and on Monday must do so to my honoured father, now sitting beside me. He is in his eightieth year, but his mind is as vigorous as ever. I think he will bear separation well, though with all the feeling I could desire.
“Adieu, then, my esteemed friend. Methinks I see you in the dark valley; but His rod and staff comforts you, and though heart and flesh fail, He will be with you. Methinks I see you panting to be gone, cheerfully surrendering all the loved ones about your dying bed, till that day when you shall again meet them in that world where there is no more such agonizing pain as you have been called to endure. The ways of God are ofttimes inscrutable, but what we know not now, we shall know hereafter.”