Family Bereavements
When Moffat had returned from meeting what remained of the Makololo Mission, his work north of Kuruman was done, so far as his personal presence was concerned. No more was he to be seen climbing the hills of the Bakwena and Bamangwato. No more was his voice to be heard pleading with chiefs in their court yards, and with their people in assembled congregations, beseeching them, as he was never weary of doing, to put aside their feuds and fightings, and, more than all, their brutish indifference to the gospel, and to arise and come into the light. But the stream of his interest flowed as strong as ever. Both he and his faithful partner watched with intense anxiety the progress of events in the Matebele country. Whilst regarding with goodwill the newly-established Hanoverian Missions, it was natural that their feelings should be most deeply stirred on the behalf of those who still further on were trying to plant the gospel among a people for whom Moffat had done much, and had endeavoured to do so much more.
They deemed no care or trouble too great. No opportunity or shadow of an opportunity was lost of sending post-bags and supplies; and when, after months of isolation at Inyati, the little community there would be roused into joy and excitement by an arrival from the far South and news from the outer world, there were always words of warm encouragement from Kuruman, and stores of practical sympathy from the patriarchal pair, who seemed to live over again in Matebeleland their old hardships and struggles in the early days at Lattakoo.
It was enough that any one was an interior missionary. At Kuruman he was sure of attention to the forwarding of his commissions; he was sure of a warm welcome and of good cheer for weeks together; he was sure of sympathy in all his plans and endeavours; and he might be equally sure that, whether present or absent no prayers would be more earnest or sincere than those offered daily at the family altar at Kuruman for the success of his work. Meanwhile, Kuruman itself was still a scene of activity. A revision of the New Testament was in progress; the youngest daughter, now the only child at home, was working hard at schools and classes; Mr. Ashton, after a short absence, was once more at work with his old colleague.
In 1862 a great blow fell upon the home at Kuruman, which seemed to add visibly to the weight of years already becoming heavy. For some time Moffat’s elder son, Robert, had been carrying on trade on the station. He was a man of great energy, and added to commercial pursuits a love of philological study. He had commenced a laborious work on the Sechwana language. He had been in poor health, and, regardless of this, had been overtaxing his strength. His wife and family were at Durban, in Natal, and he had arranged to start early in August for the purpose of bringing them to Kuruman, where he had made a home for them. When the time came he was not well; but, in his anxiety to keep his engagement, he started in opposition to the wishes of all. It was, however, thought that the journey in a comfortable waggon, with good servants, would be beneficial rather than not. It was otherwise ordered. He had only reached a point six hours’ distant when he became worse, and before any of his own family could reach him he had passed away. It was a merciful providence that Mrs. Ross, the wife of a missionary, a woman of good judgment and strong character, was travelling in the same direction, and finding him in a dying state, remained with him till the end.
His loss was deplored far and wide in the Bechwana country. He was a man of impetuous disposition, but generous to a fault. By his manly and upright dealing he had gained the confidence of the natives, and had endeared himself to them; and he had become a great help to the mission, though not ofcially connected with it. The loss fell heavily upon his parents. They had been greatly exercised in mind by his going into the native trade; but he had succeeded in showing them that it was not necessary for him to lower his standard of uprightness, and they had come to lean much upon him, so that he had promised to be not only a help to the mission, but a stay to them in their declining years.
A great multitude came to show their regard for the departed, both for his own sake and as the son of their missionary. It was a help and a comfort to the household plunged into mourning
that there was no lack of gentle and willing hands to perform the last melancholy duties. Moffat’s colleague, William Ashton, a man who had himself borne many sorrows, with the hearty aid of the few English neighbours, took everything in hand, and he conducted at the grave a service full of tender sympathy.
Not many weeks after this, sad news came from the Zambezi. Mary, the wife of Dr. Livingstone, had gone to her rest — four months before her brother. The news was scarcely unexpected. Her mother had made up her mind at once, when she heard that her Mary had left for that fever- stricken region, that she had gone “a sacrifice ready offered up;” and though the end came sooner than even she had quite looked for it, yet it had been to her as an object of contemplation, only a matter of time. So strong, however, was the missionary feeling, that half the sting was taken away by the joy that her daughter had been permitted to meet her end in the front rank of those who had gone to strive for the welfare of the heathen children of Africa. There was much of this Spartan fortitude, or rather, perhaps, of the martyr spirit, in Mary Moffat, which strove with her intense and womanly love for her own kindred,. This latter showed itself in her unceasing care for them all, and in her efforts to reach them, wherever they were, if only by letters. In distant New Zealand, or in the United States — it mattered little where — whether nephew or niece, brother or grandchild, each was remembered.
A year after their own bereavement the MofTats were called to sympathize with others. News came that William Ross, the missionary at Lekatlong, about eighty miles distant to the south-east, was seriously ill. This was enough. In a few hours Moffat was on his way; he had the sad satisfaction of doing all that could be done to alleviate suffering, and of succouring the lonely widow and the weeping children.
The death of Ross led to Ashton being transferred to Lekatlong, and for a while the whole weight of duty at Kuruman rested on Moffat’s shoulders. This was more than was fit or desirable. His energies were flagging, and his health failing. Early in the year 1865 an event occurred which taxed his physical frame, and deeply wounded his spirit at the same time. For some months a young man living on the station, who had hitherto borne a promising character, had begun to show signs of a disordered mind. His vagaries were endured by his neighbours as long as they were merely annoying, but they became at last too serious to be quietly tolerated. This was a contingency for which no provision existed in a community like that at Kuruman, where for years crimes of violence had been unknown, and where moral influence alone had been found sufficient to maintain order. The comparatively feeble patriarchal control exercised by certain headmen was not equal to the emergency. An appeal could have been made to the Batlaping chiefs, but it was thought best to avoid this as long as possible. It was necessary for the missionary to give his advice and co-operation. Under his superintendence measures were taken to impose a certain amount of restraint. This was too partial to prevent mischief, and had the effect of exciting in the lunatic himself a violent personal animosity against Moffat. One evening, returning home from the church in the dark, he was fallen upon by the unhappy man, who, armed with a knob kerrie, inflicted some terrible blows, and then fled, apparently frightened at his own violence. But for the wonderful tenacity of the iron frame the consequences must have been serious; as it was, the heart was sorely grieved, and it was many months before the shadow of this sorrow was removed. The event caused a profound sensation; the culprit was arrested and removed to another part of the country until it was seen that his mental condition gave no further ground for alarm.
Mary Moffat to one of her Children.
“August 9, 1863.
“I am sorry that your father is not here to add his share to what we now send. Doubtless Janie will have told you that poor brother Ross’s sufferings have ended, and that he has entered into rest. His end was emphatically ’ peace.’ He was full two months very ill, and needed much attention. It is cause for devout thankfulness to me that your father was there, for besides the common debt which we all owe to each other in such circumstances, I felt I could never repay Mrs. Ross for her kind attention to our own dear departed, when we were all unconscious of what was going on.
“Mr. Ross has been a hard-working, plodding man in evangelistic work. Itinerating seemed to be his forte, and we calculated on his holding on for a long time to come, being in nowise feeble in health; but his Master had otherwise ordered, and now there is a blank in this region to be filled up (for a while at least) by the brethren here, unless some of you young men have to retreat southward; this our noblest principles forbid us to hope for, but the will of the Lord must be done What we see going on in other parts of the world precludes despair even for those dark places where your lot is cast. Look at what has taken place at Abbeokuta, in West Africa, and take courage. You will see the post has arrived, and we have more hopeful news of Madagascar. As Mr. Thomas has the papers you will see in that of the nth of July a letter; but we cannot feel sure about the real state of feeling until we see something from Mr. Ellis’s own pen.”
Towards the end of 1865 the mission was reinforced by the arrival of John Brown from England, and Moffat’s own son, having come out from the Matebele, his labours were in a measure lightened. He took advantage of this to push on more zealously the work of Scripture revision, the preparing of additional hymns, and the carrying of smaller works through the press. The now narrow circle of his Scottish relations was still more contracted by the death of his aunt, Jean Gardiner, and his brother Richard The latter had been his steadfast correspondent from the early years of his missionary life. His letters were not frequent, but they were regular, and when they came they were something to read, containing as they did the annals of the home at Inverkeithing and of its surroundings; then a digest of the political news of the day, and an array of ecclesiastical items; enough matter in fact closely written into an enormous sheet to have filled a small newspaper. By such means, in days when public journals were a rarity, an interest had been kept up in the outer world which had never grown faint.
For many years the Paris Evangelical Society had been represented in Bechwanaland by a station at Motito, about thirty-six miles to the north-east of Kuruman. This station had latterly been held by Jean Frddoux, who had married Moffat’s second daughter. Fredoux was a man of gentle disposition, addicted to study, possibly the last man among the missionaries in Bechwanaland whom any one would have expected to fall a victim to violence in a country where missionaries, whatever might have been their hardships and trials, had been almost entirely exempt from such forms of suffering. Missionaries had hitherto, even from the earliest times, found their persons and lives safe among the natives of South Africa, who have heathenish vices enough, but certainly have not been noted for treachery or bloodthirstiness.
Unfortunately the development of trade had brought into the country a good many characters of a different stamp from the respectable storekeepers who had hitherto been found aids to the mission. These waifs of civilization had drifted into the country, had obtained waggons and a few goods on credit from some merchant, and used to wander from one native village to another; and, whilst carrying on some sort of trade, they debased others and were themselves debased, coming in contact with a race in whom the vices of heathenism were still strong, and among whom Christianity was still in its infancy.
Early in March, 1866, Fredoux started on a tour to the westward to carry on evangelistic work among the Barolong villages along the margin of the Kalahari Desert. Whilst at Morokweng one of the class of unfortunates above referred to arrived. The news had preceded him that he had been guilty of atrocious con-DEATH OB JEAN FR^DOUX. 241
duct at Frdoux’s own station. The chief at Morokweng and his people took the matter up warmly. They insisted upon the trader returning to Kuruman and submitting his conduct to investigation there, where a sufficient number of white people could be assembled to go into the case. He refused, and on it becoming apparent that the natives would take him by force, he entrenched himself in his waggon, with all his guns loaded, and dared any one to lay hands upon him.
Frdoux, whose camp was at a little distance, seeing that matters were becoming serious, went over to try and bring the man to reason by persuasion. He drew near, and, standing by the side of the waggon, within earshot, but out of sight, gently urged the trader to go quietly to Kuruman, assuring him that the people were resolved that he should go, if not peaceably, then by force. To this there was only a blasphemous refusal. One who was standing in a position to command a view of what passed inside of the waggon, and who survived the catastrophe, testified that at this juncture he saw the man strike a match, and in a moment an explosion took place. There were two hundred and fifty pounds of powder in the waggon. The waggon itself and its misguided occupant were blown to atoms; the mangled form of Frddoux was found not far away: he had passed to his rest after a blameless and laborious career. Twelve natives also lost their lives, and about thirty more were injured.
Directly the sad news reached Kuruman Moffat hastened to succour his widowed daughter, and to consign to the grave at Motito the remains of his late son-in-law. It was another sore blow, and added materially to the cares and anxieties of the aged missionary and his wife to the end of their days. A few months later the shadow of death again darkened the doors of the little community at Kuruman. The Browns had taken up their abode and work there. Mrs. Brown was a woman of exceptional accomplishments and great energy of character. Her removal was one of those enigmas respecting which all human penetration is at fault. She was on the very threshold of what seemed to be her work; she was entering upon it full of earnest hope; she had shown a special aptness for learning the language: but Divine wisdom saw what was best and she was called away. Shortly after his wife’s death Mr. Brown removed to Lekatlong, and was afterwards appointed to take up his position at Taung, the headquarters of the Batlaping tribe, where he remained for some years.