The Moffats Return to South Africa

In November, 1842, commenced a series of valedictory services, which in their extent, and in the deep feeling shared by those who attended them, gave a striking proof of the manner in which Moffat had been privileged to rouse in the hearts of many thousands in England and Scotland not only a strong personal regard for himself, but a deeper missionary interest and purpose. A few citations from a little book published at the time by the late Dr. John Campbell, of London, will serve to illustrate this:

“On the evening of Thursday, November 3, 1842, a meeting was held in the Waterloo Rooms, Edinburgh, for the purpose of presenting a copy of the Encyclopasdia Britannica ’ to the Rev. R. Moffat, as an expression of affectionate regard from some of his friends of different Christian denominations in Edinburgh and its neighbourhood. The large room was filled in every part, and the platform was occupied by ministers and friends of almost every Evangelical body. The Rev. W. Lindsay Alexander, M.A., occupied the chair.”

Addresses were delivered by the Rev. Henry Grey, by the chairman, and by the Rev. Dr. Brown, of Broughton Place Church. The chairman, in presenting the volumes, gave a brief but happy address. He too, with many others who took a part in that meeting, has gone to join Moffat amid the glories of the heavenly state. The following are a few of his words:

“Your visit to us we never can forget. Our little children are already, in their infantine chronology, beginning to date from the time ’ when Mr. Moffat spoke to them; ’ and believe me, to many of us of riper years the time when you spoke to us will be as a sunny spot on the dusty and troubled road along which we have to journey. We feel ourselves your debtors. We have reaped a real 162 LAST FAREWELLS.

and a pure pleasure from the pictures you have given us of missionary life — your romantic adventures, your hairbreadth escapes, your bold exertions, your surprising successes. You have opened before us a new page of human society and character, and have confirmed our attachment to the missionary cause by showing that there is no tribe too degraded for the gospel to elevate, no heart too polluted for Christianity to purify. Your debtors we are, and it is but an imperfect expression of our sense of obligation which we convey to you by this present. Nor are our feelings of affection unmixed with an emotion of sadness, as we reflect that after a short space we shall in all human probability behold your face no more in the flesh. But we would not detain you if we might.”

From Edinburgh he passed on to Newcastle, where his friend John Collingvvood Bruce, with other gentlemen, were waiting to present him with a set of scientific instruments, which were to be used in introducing to the minds of the natives of South Africa some little insight into wonders still greater than those with which civilization had made them in a measure familiar.

In Manchester was held a series of meetings which left an impression never to be forgotten by those who took a part in them. The interest was much increased by the circumstance that Joseph Gill and William Ashton were going out as missionaries with Moffat — the latter, as it proved, to be closely associated with him for many years, and now the only one of that generation still remaining in the Bechwana field.

Two or three similar services were held in London. On the twenty-third of January, Moffat and his company took their leave of the Directors. Among the many who attended on that occasion, the following names remind us forcibly of the ceaseless course of time. The chairman was T. M. Coombs. Other directors were Thomas Lewis, James Rowland, John Foulger, Thomas Binney, John Morison, Thomas Piper, John Yockney, Alexander Fletcher, H. F. Burder, Joshua Wilson, John Burnet, Henry Townley, Ebenezer Henderson, with the secretaries Arundel and Tidman.

A week after, the missionary party embarked at London Bridge, with a great concourse of friends, on board a steamer which was to carry them to the ship at Gravesend. There all the partings of some weeks past culminated in a final farewell, one more tearful service was held on the deck of the steamer, the Moffats and their companions bid adieu to friends and kindred, and the missionary party had set its face towards Africa.

Though the embarkation of the passengers took place at Gravesend on the thirtieth of January, the ship was still windbound in the Downs on the fourth of the following month, by which time something Uke a hundred sail had assembled at the same anchorage. That morning the wind changed round to the north, and in a heavy snowstorm all got under weigh and stood down the Channel. The crowd of outward-bound ships spread away each on her own course, the white cliffs receded from view, and next day the company on board the Fortitude found themselves alone on the wide, rolling sea.

The voyage was much what might have been expected, though with a larger share than usual of bad weather; but the ship was stout and well manned. The captain was an old and Godfearing man, from whom the missionaries enjoyed every facility for the observance of the Lord’s day and for public services, as was befitting so large a proportion of missionary passengers. All were safely landed in Cape Town on the tenth of April, the passage being considered an average one.

As there was an opportunity by steamer to Port Elizabeth, it was deemed best that Ashton and Inglis with their wives should go, and await the advance of the rest at Bethelsdorp, a village a few miles from Port Elizabeth. It was not till the twenty-fourth of May that the Moffats were able to follow them; embarking in a little coasting schooner for Algoa Bay, where they arrived after a tempestuous passage of ten days. Little could Mary Moffat have imagined that only a week before this, her beloved brother John Smith — whom she had the joy of meeting in England, and who had returned to his work at Madras — had found a watery grave, a vessel in which he was making a short voyage along the coast having foundered in the Bay of Bengal on the twentieth or twenty-first of May. Nothing was ever known of the exact circumstances. He had gone to Vizagapatam to attend a missionary ordination, and had started on his return journey to Madras by land, but was taken ill and constrained to return. In his anxiety to get back to his work he took a passage in a small vessel, not very seaworthy at any time, and too deeply loaded. The day after she had sailed, a storm of unusual violence swept the coast. Many ships were lost, while others were dismasted or driven far out of their course; but of the Favourite not a vestige was evei found, or a ray of light thrown upon her fate or on that of her passenger.

He was ready to go. He was a man of ardent and exalted piety, beloved of many for his work’s sake. His widow — who still lives — then in England for the recovery of her health, was many months before she could bring herself to accept the truth, so tragical in the uncertainty which surrounded it.

The Moffats now rejoined their companions at Bethelsdorp, but hindrances, so familiar to travellers in Africa, taxed even their well-trained patience. All the heavy baggage of the large missionary party, with an immense amount of public property, including a supply of Sechwana books, had been shipped in a slow-sailing vessel, whose appearance was looked for in vain for months. Seeing no chance of a forward movement for some time, Robert Moffat found vent for his restless energy in a journey on horseback to Kaffraria. He attended a meeting of ministers and missionaries on the way at Grahamstown, and then visited all the eastern stations of the London Missionary Society. He was glad to meet his old and valued friend John Brownlee, in whose company he had first sailed for Africa, and with whom he had kept up a steady intercourse by correspondence. It is much to be regretted that, owing to the destruction of Brownlee’s papers in successive Kafir wars, none of Moffat’s letters to him are obtainable. They were men of strong sympathy with each other, and Brownlee was amongst the natives of Kafirland very much what Moffat was in the interior of South Africa.

The following notice is from the pen of the Rev. Mr. Dugmore, and appeared in the “Cape Monthly Magazine” for September, 1876:

“The venerable John Brownlee has gone to his rest; but it will be long ere he is forgotten in King William’s Town, where nearly the whole of his long missionary life was spent. I have his figure before me, almost gigantic in height, but losing an inch or two in his latter years as age bowed his herculean frame, with breadth of chest and shoulders proportionate, and an arm and hand the sinewy power of which it would be dangerous for most men to test if occasion had ever called it forth. Grave in deportment, as became a Scotch minister, yet hiding under his gravity a vast amount of blended information and intelligence. With the one drawback of his indistinct utterance, it was a treat to converse with him. When past personal travel, he showed himself abreast of the times on almost all subjects — political, literary, scientific, religious. Some branches of science, such as theology and botany, he had studied con amore. On great social questions he seemed quite at home. But his favourite theme was the relation of the world’s progress to Christianity. On this I had the pleasure of hearing him dilate, with an amount of information and a degree of animation that surprised and delighted me, only a few weeks before the fatal stroke of paralysis which was the beginning of the end of his long and honourable career. I felt as though I had lost a father when I heard he was gone.”

When at last the long-looked-for ship was heard of, it was from Table Bay, where she had put in to discharge some cargo and to receive some more for the coast ports: and when in a calm and leisurely manner the Agrippina glided into Algoa Bay and cast anchor, that was by no means the end of the trial of patience. Except in perfectly fine weather, a heavy surf rolled in on the beach of what was an almost open roadstead. Days sometimes elapsed when no landing was effected, and Moffat’s heart sank within him at the loss of precious time; most of all when one night in a gale four ships parted their anchor and came ashore, and were utterly wrecked with some considerable loss of life. He paced the beach that night, his soul harrowed by scenes of death and destruction, longing for the day, to see whether the Agrippina still held to her moorings: and he was thankful to find that, if slow, she was at least sure.

At last the start was made, and the old familiar scene presented itself: the long train of ox waggons, winding over hill and down dale, sticking fast in muddy fords, and making fifteen or twenty miles a day. The labour had been immense of getting everything away, but it was going home and going back to a well-loved work. At Graaff Reinett the missionary band was welcomed and cheered on its way by the venerable and apostolic Murrays, husband and wife likeminded, who have always given a warm and practical support to missionary undertakings, and have been the means of estabUshing the missionary spirit in their own church in South Africa.

Moffat and his companions crossed the Orange River on a pont or floating bridge, the first of its kind that had regularly plied; though, as will be remembered, Mary Moffat had some years earlier been floated across the same river, and probably at the same spot, on an extemporized raft. It would then have been considered a wild and fantastic dream if a vision could have been presented of the splendid iron bridge which now spans the river, and is in actual railway communication not only with Port Elizabeth, but with Cape Town. Men can now travel in ease and comfort in fewer hours, what it would then have taken days of toilsome journeying to accomplish.

Another large stream, the Vaal River, had to be crossed, but this proved to be fordable. As the travellers drew near to it, they were delighted to meet David Livingst-one. He had ridden from Kuruman, a distance of a hundred and fifty miles, to bid them welcome, and to tell them of the ample preparations that had been made for hastening them upon their way. From this point onwards they were met day by day by joyous friends, always bringing fresh teams of oxen. Their brother missionaries and the natives showed the lilce ardour and emulation, until, as 166 ENTHUSIASTIC RECEPTION A T KURUMAN

the party drew near to Kuruman, it seemed like a roj’al progress. As the last stage was reached, it was felt by all that they could pot stop. The long cavalcade hurried on, until between two and three o’clock, just before the dawn, on the tenth of December, the Moffats found themselves once more in their own much-desired home, the scene of so many blessed labours in past years, and still to be the scene of many more in the years to come. Crowds were there to meet them even at that hour, and next day, and for many days after, people were coming from long distances round to look once more on the faces of those whom they were beginning to fear they should never see again. It was a wonderful change, which some at least could understand, and it showed that the work of the Lord had struck its roots deep into the heart of the people.

Writing to the Directors in February, 1844, Moffat says:

“I assure you it is with emotions of a very peculiar description that I take the pen for the first time to address you on the return of myself and family to the scene of our labours, after an absence of more than five years. I cannot help reviewing the past, and the multitude of events which have transpired since the day we bade farewell to the brethren and the church here, and the unforeseen providence which guided our steps into an unthought-of course, conducting us through scenes the mind had never contemplated, introducing us to the society and communion of the excellent of the earth in our own native isle, preserving our health amidst many labours, and crowning us with lovingkindness and tender mercies, bringing us back again to the people of our charge, from whom we received a universal and joyous welcome.

“I am again seated where I was wont to sit when writing to the Directors in bygone years, and where I spent so many days and months with the most intense anxiety in the translation of the Word of Divine Truth into the Sechwana language. The well-known sound of the church-going bell in the Kuruman vale again salutes the ear. The substantial chapel and the mission-houses, and the tall Babylonian willows waving in the breeze, the swallows skimming aloft, having returned from the warm tropics, the buzz of a hundred infant-school children at this moment pouring out for a minute’s play, some chant« ing over again what they have just been singing, others romping and running about on the greensward — are sights and sounds pleasant and melodious to eye and ear....

“When we reached Philippolis we were kindly received by Mrs. Wright and Mr. Thompson. We had not proceeded much farther when we were met by Mr. Livingstone on horseback. Mr. Edwards had accompanied him half way, but not being able to procure a horse had returned. Such a visitant as Mr. Livingstone in the wide wilderness was to us a most refreshing circumstance. Few can conceive of the hallowed feeling his presence produced, direct from the station and people to whom all our fondest affections were bending. We were looking forward hourly with longing expectation of some one to tell us how it fared with the mission, to which Mrs. Moffat and myself felt more tenderly attached than ever. The deeply interesting conversations we had on the affairs of the Bechwana Mission cheered us on our journey through the desert. To our great joy, on reaching the banks of the Vaal River we found it fordable. Here we spent a delightful Sabbath, opportunities having been afforded to address a goodly number of Bechwanas from a neighbouring village. A seasonable supply of oxen, sent by Mr. Bartlett and Captain Kok, of Campbell, enabled us to get all safely and expeditiously through the river. On the nth of December we were met by many of our people from the station and an abundant supply of fresh oxen, and on the 13th we were once more seated in our own dwelling at the Kuruman.

“Our souls were overwhelmed with all the changing scenes through which we had passed. We had been the recipients of innumerable favours and mercies poured out on us from the Divine hand. Thus laden with benefits, all unworthy as we were, still one thing lacked. It was once more to be with the people who had been for many long years the objects of our most anxious solicitude, again to gaze on their well-known faces, and to mingle with them once more in their solemn feasts, and to tell them again the tale of Divine love. This also has been abundantly realized.

“For many successive weeks the station continued to be a scene of bustle from the influx of strangers and believers from the different out-stations, so that we felt somewhat as we had done among the exciting scenes we had witnessed in England, Among our visitors were every branch of the Batlaping ruling family, and several subordinate chiefs. Mothibi came, stooping with age, with his wife, on whose brow the shades of life’s evening were spreading. Mothibi had visited us prior to our departure for England, and had again been to Kuruman in our absence, when he was baptized; but for a period of sixteen years Mahuto, his wife, had never been. After the death of Peclo, her first-born, and the promising heir of the chieftainship, her mind, in accordance with the habits of the natives, revolted at the idea of living in a place where the object of her fondest hopes had been suddenly consigned to a premature grave. This, with a succession of afflictions and losses caused by the devastating inroads of the western marauders, had inscribed ‘Marah * on everything connected with the Kuruman River. It was therefore to us a deeply aftecting scene to witness this aged couple alight from their waggon, and with their sons and daughters enter our house and testify, with a kind of ecstasy of feeling, their thanks to God for having brought us back, and permitted us to see each other in the flesh.

“My venerated and valued brother Hamilton, though far from being what he once was in physical strength, which has greatly diminished since we left in 1838, is, with delight renewed by our return, devoting with unabated fervour his remaining energies to the blessed cause in which he has been so long and so successfully engaged. Mr. Ashton has taken the charge of the day school, and Mary, our eldest daughter, that of the infant school.”

The mission being now largely reinforced, it was arranged that the Rosses should go to Taung, about a hundred miles due east of Kuruman, where Mahura, a brother of Mothibi, had settled with a part of the tribe. Edwards and Livingstone were to commence work among the Bakhatla, another Bechwana tribe two hundred miles to the north-east. Inglis was to go to the same neighbourhood, and Ashton was to remain at Kuruman.

Edwards and Livingstone settled down in the valley of Mabotsa. A large native town stretched along under a range of hills; but, with the exception of such land as had been cleared for cultivation, the primeval forest filled the neighbouring glens, and these were the haunts of lions, which had hitherto had it all their own way, from the absence of guns among the natives. The missionaries found themselves exposed to nightly attacks, which worried and harassed their cattle, and deprived them of rest. One day, after an unusually bold and destructive attack on an outpost, a hunt was called. Livingstone joined the party, and, as is well known from his own graphic story, got left in the lurch, and found himself literally in the jaws of the furious beast, and was only rescued with a broken and mangled arm by the devotion of his servant Mebalwe, who himself got severely bitten.

Whilst recovering his strength, and waiting for the healing ot his arm, Livingstone visited the Kuruman. Recent events seem to have altered his views on matrmiony: at all events he won the heart of Mary, the eldest daughter of the house, and in due time they were married. This circumstance drew closer the tie which already held him to Moffat. They were men of congenial spirit, and through many long years they kept an unshaken friendship far closer than the ordinary fellow-feeling of brother missionaries. Livingstone returned to Mabotsa, but only to make preparations for removal to Chonwane, to take up his abode with Sechele, chief of the Bakwena. The Edwardses were absent in the Colony, and whilst Livingstone went to build a house at Chonwane his wife would find herself lonely. In view of this her sister Ann went to cheer her solitude. This involved a journey for about two hundred miles through a wild country, with two or three native attendants only. Danger from man there was none. Even heathen Bechwanas were so far amenable to the Christian influences which had been permeating the country that any member of the Mission families, or indeed any European, would have been as safe as he would have been in London, if not safer; but the country swarmed with lions. The young girl, with her maid and a couple of native waggon-boys, made the journey to Mabotsa in peace. After a few months the Livingstones were all

A NIGHT WITH THE LION. 16g

ready for removal to Chonwane, and as they left for the north their sister started for the south. Towards the close of the second day’s journey it was discovered that something belonging to the native servants had been dropped. One of the men, with a companion, took the only serviceable gun in the waggon and started back to look for it. The approach of sunset warned the driver, the only man left with the waggon, to halt; which he did on the open plain near a few bushes. The oxen had been unyoked, and were grazing close to the waggon; a fire had been lighted and the kettle put on, and the tired travellers were sitting in the peaceful twilight. A sudden rush was heard, the oxen galloped past the waggon and right away, except one, which fell, with a lion on his back, not fifty yards from where Miss Moffat was sitting. It did not take her long, with her maid, to jump into the waggon, where the man also took refuge. Darkness closed in, and for hours the lion could be heard tearing and crunching to his heart’s content, whilst the weaponless wights in the waggon had to sit and listen, and wonder what had become of the other oxen, and of the men who were out, without even the shelter they enjoyed. After what seemed to them a good many hours, the lion finished his meal, gave a contented sort of roar, and went away. As daylight drew on it became plain that he was either back again, or that another had taken his place; but as the sun rose he left, not liking to be so near the waggon in broad daylight. The question now was, What is to be done? The nearest water was ten miles farther on, whilst that they had left the previous morning was quite twenty miles away, at a Bechwana village. There was nothing for it but to walk back again. They did so, the females expecting that out of every bush would dash another of their dreaded enemies. They met the two men coming on. They, too, had been beset by a lion, and had spent the night in a tree. They reached the place in safety — hungry, thirsty, and footsore; were kindly received and entertained by the natives, and continued their journey next day to Mabotsa, where they found the remainder of their oxen. The waggon was brought back again, and a fresh start made for the Kuruman.