Establishment of the Matebele Mission
Though his principal object was gained when Moffat saw his younger companions settled at Inyati, yet the labours which remained were not few or small. The first six months of the year 1860 were a time of incessant toil, in which none wrought harder than he. There is no lack of manual labour in all new undertakings in an uncivilized country. There were houses to be built, waggons to be repaired, garden ground to be broken up. Early and late Moffat was to be found at work, always at work — it might be at the sawpit, or the blacksmith’s forge, or the carpenter’s bench, or aiding the younger men where their own knowledge and skill failed them. In addition to all this, the chief must have a share of his company. It had been hoped that regular communication might be established with the Livingstone expedition on the Zambezi by way of Matebeleland, and as soon as matters had fairly settled down Moffat addressed himself to the task of persuading Mosilikatse to give aid to the project; but it soon became clear that the plan could not be carried out. It was with a good deal of difficulty that the chief was induced to send a party to the Victoria Falls with a post for Helmore and Price. It was more evident than ever that he was determined not to have the country opened in that direction. It was quite enough for his suspicious nature to have one outlet to the world by way of Kuruman. There he and his people feared no danger; but elsewhere the policy pursued was one of absolute isolation. Such was that isolation, that nothing could be learned of what had become of the other missionary party at this time lying stricken with fever at Linyanti. It was not till more than twelve months later that the little company at Inyati heard the news that the
Makololo Mission was broken up, and that a mere remnant had returned to Kuruman to tell the tale; yet a fortnight’s travelling, had the way been open, would have brought the news.
As time went on it became apparent that the Matebele country was not so entirely free from fever as had been hoped, though much more healthy than the immediate vicinity of the Zambezi. Fever invaded the missionary camp. The Europeans enjoyed immunity from attack, but the Bechwanas from Kuruman seemed especially liable to its inroads. For a while a stop was put to work, and gloom overspread the Uttle community. Only one fatal case occurred, and as the cooler weather drew on, the invalids plucked up courage, work was resumed, and all was hopeful again.
In the Sunday at Home for 1875 there is a paper by Moffat himself, of which the following paragraph relates to this juncture:
“There was a young man among those engaged to accompany the missionaries from the Kuruman to the Matebele. He had been for some time one of the inquirers, and would soon have been received into church fellowship. He was clever and intelligent. After some months our camp was visited by the well-known African fever. Everything was done that our knowledge or experience could suggest. It was not long before most of the patients were recovering. Marelol, the young man, had a relapse. He became insensible to all around him, and to every entreaty to take something which might again do him good. He lay for two days motionless in a comatose condition, from which no effort could rouse him. On the evening of the second day I was at work repairing my waggon, about thirty yards from the house in which the sick man lay. I heard some one singing with a strong, clear voice. Inquiring who was singing to the sick man, * It is himself,’ was the reply. I hastened to the spot, and found it even so. He was lying as I had left him about an hour before, but with a firm voice he was still singing one of our hymns, which embodied some of the striking parts of the 84th Psalm. When I entered and knelt down beside him he was singing the last verse, to which I listened with inexpressible feelings of gratitude, presuming that there was a change for the best. I addressed him — he was deaf; I tried to arouse him — it was vain; I felt his pulse — it was performing its last beats: and while I was looking at his motionless lips, his spirit departed to that heavenly Zion about which he had just been singing.”
In the month of June Moffat felt that his work at Inyati was done. He had spared no labour of body or of mind to aid in planting the mission. So far as his personal influence could go, he had done all. He was willing to have remained longer if there had been anything for him to add to the exceeding abundance of his services. He had smoothed a hundred difficulties, such as must of necessity arise with a chief and people so jealous and suspicious, and he had taught his younger brethren lessons of patient and humble self-devotion which none of them could ever forget.
On Sunday morning, the seventeenth of June, he walked up to the chiefs kraal for the purpose of speaking to Mosilikatse and his people for the last time on the great themes of life, death, and eternity. As we followed him along the narrow path from our camp to the town, about a mile distant, winding through fields and around patches of the uncleared, primeval forest, no step was more elastic and no frame more upright than his. In spite of unceasing toil amid tropical heats and miasmatic exhalations, in spite of cares and disappointments, his wonderful energy seemed unabated. The old chief was, as usual, in his large courtyard, and gave kindly greeting. They were a strange contrast as they sat side by side — the Matebele tyrant and his friend the messenger of peace. The word of command was given; the warriors filed in and ranged themselves in a great semicircle, sitting on the ground; the women crept as near as they could, behind huts and other points of concealment, and all listened in breathless silence to the last words of “Moshete.” He himself knew thax they were his last words, and that his work in Matebeleland was now given over to younger hands. It was a solemn service, and closed the long series of such in which the friend of Mosilikatse had striven to pierce the dense darkness of soul which covered him and his people.
On the morrow there was the last leave-taking, and Moffat started for his distant home. That was twenty-four years ago. Of the three men whom he left in the work, one has passed to his rest, another has retired from the field, and the third, William Sykes, is still at his post. Mosilikatse, faithful to his promise, was a steady friend to the new missionaries; and in this respect his son, Lobengula, has followed in his steps, but the mission has as yet been without visible success. Time only will tell what has been the meaning of this strange history. It is more than fifty years since Moffat first visited the Matebele. In the meantime attempts have been made by the Paris missionaries and by the American board to estabUsh missions among them, but in vain. Sykes and those now associated with him have been able to maintain a foothold in the country, but it is difficult to see any result commensurate with the existence of a mission for twenty-five years. The day will declare it!
Mary Moftat, meanwhile at Kuruman, writes to her son on the fourth of April:
“On the tenth of next month it will be twenty-five years since I parted with your father when he visited the tyrant Mosilikatse the second time, he being then the terror of the tribes in the latitudes north of us, and it was deemed prudent to conciliate him that the interior might not be closed against the progress of the gospel. How little did I then think that the very babe who sat before me on his nurse’s lap was destined to go to that savage people to hold before them the lamp of eternal life. Unable as I then was to hold you in my embrace, your sweet smiles, which in my solitude I so often witnessed, are yet engraven on my now shattered memory. Often did I wonder how that dear child could seem to love me so much, though I could not fondle him or have him to drink at life’s fountain. I could only laugh and talk very feebly then. Now, after what I have been spared to see, those sweet infant smiles so tenaciously held in my remembrance seem to have had language. Methinks they said, * Cheer up, dear mother; though you think your course is nearly finished, I am destined to live to fulfil your heart’s desire. I shall yet become a missionary to that very people for whom you have so cheerfully parted from him who could, better than any one else, have succoured and cherished you in the season of debility and weakness.’
“In those lone hours I had many meditations, as a matter of course, and I did then fondly hope that the sacrifice I had made was acceptable to my Lord and Master; but little did I think that you, my dear son, would so many years afterward have your name lisped by those rude barbarians as their missionary. But so it is, and may you and dear E. have grace to persevere with your colleagues till you see the influences of the Holy Spirit descending upon those poor ignorant men and women, till of such stones God does raise up children unto Abraham. Wonders and miracles of grace are being wrought in all parts of the world where the light of the Word has reached, and why not among the Matebele? Almighty power is needful to enlighten the most polished, as well as those who have not one theological idea, and the Saviour has said, ‘All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth.’ Why, then, should we doubt? You may all have much to suffer, many, many privations to endure, and great sacrifices to make; but nothing is so calculated to quiet oui spirits under such trials as to remember what Jesus forsook for us, and what He endured through life from poverty and shame, independent of the sacrifice on the cross. His was all for poor perishing worms; while we are but worms, doing what we can for fellow-worms. Have good courage. We can never stoop as the Saviour did — He, the mighty God. Many modern missionaries have suffered as much as you may be called to do, but what glorious fruits do we now see I”
Moffat found himself once more in his own home, after an absence of twelve months. Ashton also was returning. The duties of the station had been carried on for a time by Mackenzie, who had now left to follow his comrades to the Makololo, but only to meet Price coming back, and the mission abandoned.
Kuruman was again to become a scene of systematic and settled labour.
Robert Moffut to Dr. Tidman.
“Not). 12, 1860. “It is only four days since I forwarded a letter to you which contained what little information had reached us respecting our Makololo brethren. It was favourable, but alas! alas! it only seemed to lift us up that we might be plunged into the depth of sorrow. Helmore, the amiable, the unwearied, the apostolic Helmore, and his kind and devoted wife are no more inhabitants of this lower world. This distressing intelligence reached us last night by one of our people who had been on an elephant hunt as far as the Victoria Falls. He there met with people from Linyanti, who, when asked about the welfare of the missionaries, replied, in the fashion of the country, that they were all dead with the fever.”
This sad story proved to be to a large extent true. It was, however, ascertained that Mr. Price, with the remnant of the party, had returned, and that they were somewhere on the road back again. A long time had, however, elapsed, and no further tidings had come. Moffat, ever ready, determined to set out in search. He had a difficulty in getting people to go with him, but at last succeeded. He met what remained of the original expedition, and the Mackenzies with them, near Shoshong, and all returned sorrowfully to Kuruman.
Whilst carrying on their own work at Kuruman, the Moffats were ever looking to the north-east. The Makololo Mission had collapsed, but that among the Matebele still held its own, and it was with intense interest that every line from the missionaries was read. No pains were spared to supply their wants, and ta convey to them in their great isolation news from the outer world. This was no easy matter to accomplish at such a distance, and among a people so disliked and shunned by their neighbours as the Matebele. The welfare of the mission at Inyati was bound up with that of their own at Kuruman. There was a family tie, but, over and above this, there was that entire consecration to the supreme object of carrying the gospel to the heathen which overflowed every other consideration. Another link of personal and family interest was to be formed. On the twenty-second of October, 1861, Bessie Moffat became the wife of Roger Price, and in the course of a short time went with him to Shoshong, in the hope of the way being opened to join the Matebele Mission. This object was afterwards relinquished, and the Prices took up the work among the Bakwena of Sechele, that station having become vacant by the retirement of the Hanoverian missionaries.