VISIT TO BASUTOLAND.—PITSO AT MASERU.—INTERVIEW WITH MASUPHA.—GENERAL
GORDON’S APPOINTMENT.—PITSO AT LERIBE.—ROMA.—THE ROMAN CATHOLIC AND
PROTESTANT MISSIONS.—MAFETING.—EAST LONDON.—SIR DAVID
WEDDERBURN.—ARRIVAL IN CAPETOWN.—CAPE ASSEMBLY RESIGNATION.
Some time before the opening of the fourth session of parliament in
1882, in course of correspondence with the Hon. Colonel Schermbrucker,
M. L. C. for King William’s Town, I proposed to him that before
parliament met we should make a tour through Basutoland, and see for
ourselves the real position of affairs and the condition of the country,
especially as so many conflicting statements were afloat. We agreed to
meet at Maseru on March 1st, 1882. Determined that this appointment
should be kept to the day, I left Kimberley at noon on Feb. 26th for
Bloemfontein, _en route_ to Basutoland.
Arriving at Boshof, a rising Free State town, in about six hours, we
changed horses, and proceeding on our journey spent the whole of a
delightful summer night, which a brilliant moon lit up as light as day,
in speeding over the plains of the Free State. But what torture we
suffered between this place and Bloemfontein! The wagonette in which we
rode was sadly out of repair, and I thought myself lucky in getting the
back seat, but, alas! being also the lid of a box, the hinges of which
were broken, it was misplaced by any sudden jolt, so I found myself as
often in the box as out of it.
I had not seen the neat little town of Bloemfontein for ten years, but I
found it had not developed much during this interim. My previous errand
had been of a very different kind. Then the whole of the state was in
painful suspense on account of the critical state in which their
president, Mr. (now Sir John) Brand, was lying. The executive, fearing
the worst, determined to obtain further medical opinion upon his case,
and sent to Kimberley for Dr. Dyer, a leading practitioner there, and
myself, to post over with all speed. Our consultation with the
president’s physicians was not hopeful, and we left, expecting the
worst; however, some days after our return we learned that the disease
had taken a favorable turn, and we had the satisfaction in a few mails
to hear of the president’s gradual restoration to health.
During the few hours that I rested at Bloemfontein I had the pleasure of
meeting his honor again, older and greyer certainly than he was ten
years before, but looking full of health and vigor, “his age like a
lusty winter, frosty but kindly.” He was sitting in his private room in
the magnificent block of government buildings erected lately by the
state. On introduction, he recognized me at once, spoke feelingly of the
past when last we met, and asked me to dinner, an invitation which I was
unable to accept, owing to my previous appointment with Colonel
Schermbrucker on the first of March, which I had barely time enough to
keep. I started the same afternoon in a special cart for Ladybrand, and
traveled again the whole of the night. After “moving accidents by flood
and field,” overturning the cart, losing the mules, getting wet through
and nearly drowned in the Modder River, I at last outspanned for a
couple of hours at Modderpoort, ten miles from Ladybrand, a mission
station conducted by members of the Anglican brotherhood, who had been
settled there since 1870. Father Douglas, the present head of the
community, kindly showed me round the mission station. I saw the pretty
stone church with its stained glass windows and solemn aisles, and the
substantial mission house for the priests, but that which interested me
most was the sight of the cave at the bottom of the garden in which
during the early years of the mission Father Beckett, the founder, used
to live. This good old priest, after years of arduous work, was called
to his rest last year (in 1884), regretted by the whole country side.
[Illustration:
MASERU, BASUTOLAND.
]
Bidding farewell to Father Douglas I reached Ladybrand at 6 P. M. “All’s
well that ends well,” a good rest and sleep enabled me to start early
next morning for Maseru, escorted by a well-known Basuto head man named
Makolokolo, who with an escort of ten men had come to meet me. The
scenery between Ladybrand and Maseru is magnificent, the mountains, with
the grassy plains rolling between, to one who for years had seen nothing
but heaps of diamond debris and tailings from washing machines seemed
inexpressibly and over-poweringly grand. As we rode on to the drift of
the Caledon we passed a long range of hills, where I saw the first signs
of the war that had been raging. By faint curls of smoke high up the
hillsides, mounting in the air, my attention was drawn to the presence
of a number of refugee Basuto women and children living ensconced in
caves, who had received permission from the Free State government to
squat there pending the settlement of affairs.
Galloping quickly on, at ten o’clock I arrived at the drift of the
Caledon River crossing to Maseru. I found the river running in torrents,
the pont or horse ferry, damaged the day before, unworkable—in fact the
late heavy rains had upset everything, but there, on the other side of
the river, exact to the day and hour fixed months before, I could see my
friend, the colonel, waiting. A hearty shout of recognition and welcome
greeted me, and jumping into a boat I was safely landed on the other
side, in Basutoland.
Our progress to Maseru from the Caledon River, about a mile, was one
triumphal procession. As members of the Cape parliament who, the loyals
knew by report, sympathized with their sufferings, Colonel Schermbrucker
and myself were heartily welcomed by these poor broken-hearted people.
They regarded us as men who would be able from personal knowledge and
inspection to bring their cruel wrongs and sufferings before parliament,
reveal their exact condition, and show the world, at least the South
African world, the sad plight and the miserable state in which their
loyalty and their belief in the flag of Old England had landed them.
Hundreds met us on the banks of the river; the crowd, “lumelaing”
(saluting) us and singing and dancing their war dances, and increasing
in numbers until our arrival at Mr. Trower’s store when we arranged with
the leaders to have a meeting or _pitso_ in the afternoon.
Maseru is a prettily situated village just on the confines of
Basutoland, and during the war was an important rendezvous and depot. By
good fortune I found an old brother, if not in arms in lancets, Dr.
Cumming, stationed here, who invited me to accompany him to the camp of
the Cape mounted rifles, when I spent a pleasant hour lunching with him
and other members of the staff.
A splendid view of Maseru and the surrounding country is obtained from
the high plain on which the camp was pitched.
From our open dining tent I could see on one side the winding Caledon,
rushing along in torrents, on the other the grassy plain with the camp
and its surroundings, whilst in front, below us, lay the pretty village
of Maseru with its houses and stores, its trees and its gardens, and the
residency which a short time before had witnessed a most plucky and
successful defence against the attacking hordes of Masupha’s rebels. As
a background to this lovely scene, three hills nicknamed by our troops,
“the world, the flesh and the devil” completed the picture.
In the afternoon there was a large meeting of the loyal Basutos, and we
heard from their own lips the story of their sufferings. Among the
speakers was Sofonia Moshesh, whose magnificently built stone house I
afterward saw in the distance when going to Thaba Bosigo, Makolokolo, a
clever, far-seeing man, whose opinion was much thought of by the
Basutos, Inodi, Jacob Matseke, N’tsane Moshesh, whose house surrounded
by a forest of 2,000 gum trees is a sight ever to be remembered. The
enthralled attention and eager anxiety of the assembly struck me very
much, and it was impossible not to feel for men like Sofonia Moshesh and
N’tsane Moshesh who had lost everything by their loyalty to the
government. but who still trusted, still “hoped on” that justice would
be done them.
The petition which was to be presented to parliament setting forth their
grievances, and praying the house to allow three chiefs they had chosen
to appear as their spokesmen at the bar of the house, was signed by all
present, and the pitso broke up with loud cheers for the Queen.
After the pitso was over I walked up with Colonel Schermbrucker to the
residency, saw how the place had been stormed and riddled by bullets on
the day of the memorable attack on November 20th, 1880, and then went to
see the accommodation provided for the “loyals,” of which we had heard
so much. Tents all tattered and torn, affording no shelter from either
the wind or weather, we found were the only housing provided for these
loyal natives, who by obeying the orders of the government had been
rendered destitute, robbed of their cattle, driven from their gardens
and their fields, from house and home! We came away impressed with the
fact that the conception formed by our loyal friends of England’s
justice and power must be very mythical indeed.[83] Richard Brinsley
Sheridan’s graphic and powerful description of the condition into which
the province of Oude was brought by the emissaries of Warren Hastings is
exceedingly applicable to the condition in which we found these deluded
people. Well could they also say “this damp of death is the mere
effusion of British amity! We sink under the pressure of their
support!... They have embraced us with their protecting arms, and lo,
these are the fruits of their alliance!”
Next day we rode through Ladybrand to Ficksburg, a distance of sixty
miles, accompanied by Makolokolo and some ten mounted men. Arriving
late, after a hard day’s ride through a country not at all interesting,
we rested the night, having previously arranged to meet the chief,
Jonathan (the late chief Molappo’s son), and his people at Leribe on the
following day. Starting early next morning, we were met on this side of
the Caledon drift by 200 of Jonathan’s men on horseback sent to escort
us to Thlotsi Heights, the seat of the magistracy, and the place where
hundreds of his men (loyals), driven from their homes by the rebel
Basutos (like those whom we saw at Maseru), were squatting together
depending on the government for food and protection.[84] Crossing the
Caledon, the chief Jonathan met us, and Colonel Schermbrucker introduced
me to him.
[Illustration:
MOLAPPO’S HOUSE, NEAR LERIBE, BASUTOLAND.—INTERVIEW WITH LOYAL
BASUTOS.
]
This chief is a noble specimen of the Mosuto, not very tall, but well
made, though slightly stout, and with an intelligent and frank
expression of countenance. He was attired in the undress uniform of a
British officer and magnificently mounted. He conducted us to his house
at Thlotsi Heights, where we had coffee and rested about an hour, when
we started for Leribe. I shall never forget my ride. The whole of the
Basutos who were at Thlotsi Heights joined us, every one mounted.
Jonathan provided horses for Colonel Schermbrucker and myself, and we
rode in front, Colonel Schermbrucker on one side, I on the other, the
chief in the middle, with a cavalcade of at least 500 mounted men
behind. The morning was bright and cheery, the air seemed charged with
electric freshness, the grassy turf was like a spring-board, so never
drawing rein, we raced along to Leribe, doing the nine miles in forty
minutes.
On arrival I was astonished at what I saw; we off-saddled in front of
two large stone houses,[85] built about ten years ago by Molappo, one
for his white visitors, the other for his own use. The accompanying view
I took at the time. The interior was beautifully furnished, and even
pictures graced the walls, and this right in the heart of Basutoland,
where civilization was supposed to have scarcely penetrated.
We rested a short time, were then invited to partake of what was really
a fine dinner, after which we spoke to the large gathering of Basutos
who had assembled to meet us, and listened to their mournful story, when
after signing the petition[86] for me to present to parliament, the
meeting broke up by singing the national anthem.
Mr. Maitin, the son of a much esteemed French missionary who interpreted
for me, took at the time full notes of what the different speakers said.
All their observations were to the point, and the quaint manner in which
they were put well illustrated the shrewdness of the Basuto character,
evidently wishing to imply only, amidst the tale of all their cruel
sufferings, the one fact ever brought to the fore, “civis Anglicanus
sum.” These notes he afterward sent to the Cape _Times_, from which
paper I make a few extracts.
After giving some introductory remarks which I made to the large
assembly, Mr. Maitin proceeds to report more _in extenso_ what fell from
the different natives of standing present.
Piet Makolokolo (to whom I have already referred as a man much trusted
by the loyals), Sofonia, Kampa, Jacob Moseki, and other prominent men
told their tale of suffering and neglect. Koadi’s and N’tsane Moshesh’s
speeches, however, I give in full, as they contain the gist of what the
other speakers said.
Koadi said: “I am very glad to see Dr. Matthews amongst us, and I was
glad when he came to Maseru. I am very thirsty and I believe he can help
in quenching my thirst. In short, I will state I agree entirely with
what has been said by Sofonia, and with the petition which has just been
read to us. We approve of what it contains. I ask you loyals if we speak
truth in that petition? Your answer is ‘Yes.’ I will be short, as time
is pressing. We are now in great misery. We are men who cried out to
those in power to do something for us. Now I ask what are they going to
do? I fully agree with Sofonia; he is right in saying the loyals are all
crying, suffering, and in misery for their loyalty. He is right in
saying before the rebellion we were rich, free, and independent, but now
are poor and suffering.
“Yesterday some of my men came to me and complained of the bad tents,
which do not afford shelter from the rain and cold, and reproached me
with having persuaded them to follow the government. I do not say for a
moment we have been wrong to remain faithful to the government. We all
know that we received the Queen’s government from the hands of Moshesh,
and as far as I am concerned I will be faithful to the government till
the government casts me off. I have still, even now, great faith and
hope, as I see a member of parliament amongst us, which proves to me
that the colony will see us righted. As Sofonia says, we were killed
because we were faithful. Must we die again? I hope if the first doctor
fails the second will cure us. I think our petition contains all we
wanted to say.”
Question from Dr. Matthews: “What has Koadi lost?” “I have only lost
five head of cattle, taken from the Free State, but my people lost
cattle and horses. My great loss is one greater than any amount of
cattle, and that is my ground and my rights. Those who rebelled fought
because they wanted the right of the ground, which I have lost, and
which is my great loss. As a grandson of Moshesh I had rights and lands,
with which I could do as I liked. When we were told about disarmament,
before the rebellion, and were ordered to give up our guns, I came three
times to Colonel Griffith, and told him I did not wish to separate
myself from my gun, and he answered me by taking the Peace Preservation
act, and saying, this is the law. I did not like to give up my gun, but
I obeyed the law. Mr. Sprigg then came to Basutoland, and when Colonel
Griffith informed us he was here I went to see him, and Colonel Griffith
introduced me to the then colonial secretary; he asked me to state what
I had lost, and he said that my property should be restored, and that
the governor would protect my life and property. I will not relate how
we were nearly destroyed, as Colonel Schermbrucker, who was our
commandant, can witness on Oct. 20th, 1880; he has remained faithful to
us during all our troubles. We hear it is peace, but we do not see it. I
am glad Dr. Matthews took the trouble to come to us. I want to show him
our food (an old biscuit was here produced); this is the food the
government gives us, the government which promised us protection; we are
often sick after eating this provision. The government was not able to
protect us last year, so during the war we were well fed, but now this
is the description of food we receive. I should like Dr. Matthews to
take a walk and see our houses, huts and tents, and the manner in which
we are now living, and, if he could go and see our old homes, villages,
etc., and compare them. When you do compare them you will know who are
the people who have suffered much, and what they have suffered. During
the war the rebels did not suffer, because they had all our property and
everything they wanted; they are still now the masters of the country,
and of our property. We have been in this state of destitution for two
years. Many of the present people are chiefs, but they are so badly
dressed that you could take them for common people, and this is one of
the results of their loyalty. It is a great pity that Dr. Matthews has
not more time to spare, otherwise every one could speak to him. I blame
Mr. Sprigg for our condition, because he made us promises, but it was
not his fault if they were not carried out, because he had to go out of
office; it was for his successors to fulfill those promises. I again
thank Dr. Matthews for all his attention.”
N’tsane Moshesh followed in the same strain: “I greet Dr. Matthews and
all the loyals. I cannot say how thankful I am that he has taken the
trouble to come and see those men who remained faithful to the Queen.
Moshesh handed over to the Queen his country and people, and here are
the few people who remained faithful. I thank Dr. Matthews for coming
here to see our miseries and to ascertain the true state of affairs. I
endorse every word stated by Sofonia and Koadi. I have nothing to add.
The petition contains the substance of our feelings, and every word of
it is true, and I have only to thank Dr. Matthews for his trouble. I do
not want him to think that because we are black we have no feelings. It
is perfectly true what Koadi said—that we deceive our people, for they
ask us now: ‘Where is the protection of the government?’ Another thing
is, we speak only for Maseru, no loyal has been able to return to his
home. Sofonia, Lefoyane, Koadi and myself were the first who said we
would go back to our homes—we were anxious to do so, because we valued
them. I went to my village according to Mr. Orpen’s[87] order, and found
all my land divided between Theko Letsie and Mama Letsie; and who
divided thus my property? who, but the man who calls himself the head of
the loyals, Letsea, my brother! As it is stated, in the petition my
ground, etc., cannot be valued in money, and I will never accept money
as compensation. Cattle, horses, etc., are nothing, but to lose my
rights as a chief grieves me. In cattle I lost 370 head—government gave
me three! Every one knows how my village was planted with blue gum
trees; there were 1,862 trees beside houses and other property, and now
I live in a tent. I cannot state all that I would like to say as time is
so pressing.”
After finishing this speech, all the Basutos, as I mentioned before,
signed the petition, and I closed this most interesting interview by a
few words of encouragement, to which Koadi, in the name of all present,
replied: “I return thanks to Dr. Matthews for the loyals, and I am glad
to hear there is hope of justice for them in the breast of Englishmen.
We have heard of Moses, but we have no Moses, but perhaps you will be
our Moses, and deliver us out of Egypt.”
The pitso being ended I rode back to Thlotse Heights, and bidding
“good-bye” to Colonel Schermbrucker, who went to Ladybrand, I spent the
night at the house of Dr. Taylor, the government surgeon. In the morning
the chief Jonathan came to see me. We had a long talk on Basutoland
affairs, and on leaving he presented me with a valuable pony as a
memento of my visit. I left for Ficksburg next day and pushed through to
Maseru, where I arrived late at night.
Before taking my trip to Leribe to interview Jonathan and his people I
wrote a letter “greeting” to Masupha, asking him to grant me an
audience, and also leave to visit “Thaba Bosigo” (the mountain of
night), where he was living. On my return I found a message waiting me
from Masupha, giving me the requested permission, and saying that he
would be glad to see me. So early on the following morning (March 7th) I
left Maseru with a native escort under Koadi, a grandson of Moshesh,
passing the Berea on my left, which was the scene of the terrible
disaster which befell Gen. Sir George Cathcart, then governor of the
Cape Colony and high commissioner, in 1852, of which the following is a
brief outline:
The general, at the instance of Mr. Commissioner Owen, then in the
sovereignty (now the Free State), had advanced in November of that year
with some 2,000 troops as far as the Berea to demand of Moshesh 10,000
head of cattle and 1,000 horses for not complying with an award of Major
Warden’s forbidding him to cross over the border line between Basutoland
and the sovereignty under penalty of giving offense to the Queen and
incurring a severe penalty.
With the troops he had with him (Colonel Hare of the 73d regiment)
taking the advance command, Sir George ascended the Berea mountain, the
top of which forms a large plateau, in three places, to attack that
wonderfully astute barbarian and punish him for breaking his agreement.
There was a heavy mist on the mountain at the time, and our men
mistaking the Basutos for so many cattle, on discovering their error
fled panic-stricken. Some in retreating jumped over precipices in the
mountains and were killed, while the others who escaped continued their
flight far into the night to Platberg in the sovereignty. More than one
hundred officers and men lost their lives on this occasion, and it is
said that the general never returned to bury their bodies, this
melancholy office being performed by the missionaries in the
neighborhood. Moshesh, next day, diplomatic enough, was profuse in his
excuses for the attack, and sent cattle as a token of his submission,
which General Cathcart was only too glad to accept.
Going a little further I passed Boquatie, a curious village of people
who came from the Vaal River in 1833, and at noon I arrived at the
French Protestant mission station of the Rev. M. Jousse, situated in a
lovely nook at the foot of Thaba Bosigo. Riding here from Maseru I was
able to gain some insight into the richness and fertility of the
country. For miles and miles, across a splendid valley, nothing could be
seen but waving corn; its luxuriant growth, however, did not surprise me
when on crossing the deep water gullies I could see no end to the depth
of a continuous alluvial deposit. M. Jousse’s station was a sad sight to
contemplate. Here was a church seated for 800, a boarding school with
accommodation for fifty native girls, a day school, a mission house with
every token of French elegance and polish, gardens with rare fruit trees
and a yard around, kept scrupulously clean, while melancholy indeed was
it to find all this virtually useless; the war had put a stop to the
civilizing influence of the good missionary! The school was empty, the
church deserted, he alone remaining at his post waiting until “wars and
rumors of wars” had passed away.
M. Jousse accompanied me to Masupha’s and kindly interpreted for me. We
found preparations had been made for our visit.
Under the shade of a spreading tree near his house skins had been laid
and chairs arranged, Masupha showing unusual civility by receiving us at
once. I had heard many reports of Masupha’s drinking habits, but he was
quite sober. Of middle height, well dressed in European costume, a
little beyond middle age, with a slight nervous twitching of the face, I
now saw before me the man, black though he was, who had defied and was
still defying the Cape government! Deep, clever and crafty, this was the
man who had out-manœuvred ministers and statesmen! Lepocquo, with
several other of Masupha’s sons and councillors, were present. Masupha
freely went over the course late events had taken and closed our
interview by saying: “As far as the loyals are concerned I will never
have them back, before the war they were always quarreling, now it will
be worse; as to the magistrates, they ran away of their own accord when
the war began, it is now a question whether they should be allowed to
return,” and, continuing, he said, “you talk about hut tax, refer this
to a pitso of the nation, and as to guns, Sprigg has got five, he is
kicked out,[88] so must the gun-tax be, too.”
I came away feeling that it would require millions of money and
thousands of men to alter this wily chief’s determination to remain
entirely independent. The Cape government had also become aware of the
exigency of the case, and this led them to inquire whether her Majesty’s
government would permit them to obtain the services of Maj. Gen. Charles
George Gordon, C.B., R.E., “for the purpose of consultation as to the
best measures to be adopted with reference to Basutoland,” and “to
assist in terminating the war and administering Basutoland.” Chinese
Gordon accepted the invitation of the Cape government, but found on his
arrival in the colony that the only post offered him was that of
commandant general of the colonial forces, a post he had refused two
years before. Although General Gordon came to the Cape with the sole
object of quelling the rebellion in Basutoland, yet he accepted this
appointment, looking upon it merely as a temporary one until another
position could be found for Mr. Orpen, who was then British resident in
Basutoland. Gordon, on May 21st, addressed a minute to ministers on the
Basutoland question. In this it could be seen he had intuitively grasped
the position, and did not believe in setting up brother against brother,
or in other words hounding on the Basutos to destroy one another. His
various memoranda on this and other subjects were passed over in silence
by the Cape government, although, believing in the opinion he had
formed, he had offered to go and live as resident with Masupha for two
years in order to settle matters.
About this time Mr. Sauer, secretary for native affairs, met General
Gordon at King William’s Town and begged him to go with him to
Basutoland. Gordon reluctantly consented, as he had formed an opinion
diametrically opposed to Orpen’s policy, and thought his presence would
be of no service; moreover, after his interview with Letsea (a chief
_supposed_ to be acting in concert with the government), he had become
more convinced than ever that the government were taking steps in the
wrong direction.
Mr. Sauer then persuaded him to visit Masupha, as a “private
individual,” to see what could be done, but, can it be believed, at the
very time General Gordon was undertaking this journey a force under
another loyal chief, Lerothodi, Letsea’s son, was actually sent to
attack Masupha.
By sheer force of character and moral power, which were his great
levers, he disarmed Masupha’s suspicions of treachery as far as he,
Gordon, was concerned, and was allowed by that chieftain to leave “the
false position” into which the Cape government, or rather the acts of
one of its ministers, had forced him.
[Illustration:
ROMA MISSION STATION (ROMAN CATHOLIC), BASUTOLAND.
]
Gordon telegraphed his resignation to the Cape government as soon as he
arrived at Aliwal North, which was accepted, and he soon after left the
colony. The unnecessarily insulting and narrow-minded conclusion to the
telegram sent to the general by the Cape premier, Mr. (now Sir Thomas)
Scanlan, is now, since that hero’s lamented death, a subject of such
world-wide ridicule that I may be excused quoting it once more: “I
regret to record my conviction that your continuance in the position you
occupy would not be conducive to public interest.” It will ever be a
source of gratification to me that I had the opportunity of meeting this
noble man.
To return to my narrative. M. Jousse accompanied me several miles on my
road to Roma, the principal Roman Catholic mission station in
Basutoland, which is built on land given to the Roman Catholic community
by Moshesh in October, 1862. Our road ran around the foot of Thaba
Bosigo by the pass where Wepener was shot in the Boer war with the
Basutos, and past Job’s village, which fringed, so to speak, the
mountain with cultivated trees and with houses built in European style.
Passing St. Michael’s, another R. C. mission station, I descended into
the valley and wound my way round to Roma. This station is most
picturesquely situated. At its back a range of hills protects it from
the south wind, while just in front a pretty mountain stream runs along,
lazily turning a mill wheel as it courses by. The fathers (oblates of
Mary) received me most hospitably. They showed me over the station,
consisting of a fine mission house, two long double-storied buildings,
one used as a dormitory for boys, of whom there are at least fifty
resident, the other for girls, whose number, though about the same,
varies.
These buildings, together with the necessary workshops and tools for
teaching the boys various trades, a separate cottage for visitors, and a
large church capable of holding 1,000 people, shaded by a perfect forest
of gum trees, afford an example of what energy and perseverance can
accomplish. I must not forget to mention as well that the garden in
front of the mission house, arranged in beautiful terraces planted with
orange trees, vines, fruit trees and flowers, conveys of itself at once
the presence of refinement and civilization. I was fortunate enough to
be in time for evening prayers, and heard the magnificent intoning of
the Basuto boys, their voices severally blended being perfectly
wonderful.
In Basutoland there are at the present time in connection with the
French R. C. mission seven stations, five priests, three brothers and
eighteen nuns, belonging to the community of sisters of the Saint
Famille of Bordeaux, the first members of which sisterhood arrived at
Roma in April, 1886, following Monseigneur Allard, the Rev. Mr. Gerard
and Brother Bernard, who came up to Moshesh, the paramount chief of the
Basutos, in October, 1862.
At Roma, the head station, named by Moshesh Motsi wa M’a Jesu, “the
village of the Mother of Jesus,” there is every Sunday an average
attendance at the church services of 800; and I am authentically told
that the number of natives who every Sunday attend the different
churches belonging to the mission throughout the country is at least
1,500. This is, however, nothing when compared with the attendance at
the various grand feasts of the church, where at Roma alone it is no
unusual circumstance for 6,000 or 8,000 to congregate. New Year’s day
may be called their national fête. This year Letsea, the paramount chief
of Basutoland, attended the ceremonies at Roma on that day, accompanied
by an immense retinue of mounted followers; the throng was so great that
a rustic altar was erected amongst the trees, “and a grand and singular
spectacle it was,” the Rev. Father Deltour tells us, “to behold these
thousands of sable figures, massed together under these trees anxious to
witness the great act of Christian worship.” He further goes on to
describe the incidents of the day: “Never in my life did I witness such
perfect order and instant obedience in such a multitude. It was simply
wonderful.” The paramount chief addressed the meeting in the following
words, which I quote from a letter of the reverend father:
“‘I came to Roma, as the Rev. Father had invited me, and right glad am
I that I did come and witness the work that is carried on in this
mission. Here the Rev. Fathers and the Sisters sow the seed of peace
and of religion. This is a village of peace and prayer. In their
prayers they invoke the help of the Holy Virgin, as the Rev. Father
has explained this morning; and in my opinion they are right. It is
prayer that sustains our life. Basutos, be united to your chief, be
one nation under one chief, or you will divide yourselves and be lost.
Look at the stream which descends from the mountain; it gathers
strength because its waters are not divided, but run compact toward
that mighty something which I know not, and which is called the sea.
Do likewise and you shall be strong. Let the Fathers and the Sisters
pray for our Basutoland; let them pray for rain, which is so much
wanted. Pula!’
“In response to the royal speech a tremendous ‘Pula’ burst forth from
all, and was echoed far and wide by the surrounding mountains.
“After Letsea had spoken and the meeting was over, the cliffs and
rocks of the mountain side almost in an instant were covered with
spectators anxious to see the races, in which a hundred horses ran, in
the presence of an excited multitude. As evening drew nigh and the
sports were drawing to a conclusion, the mass of people retired, no
visitors remaining in the village.”
The Basutos are, as a rule, in their heathen state, unreliable, lustful,
intemperate and overbearing, and the work of the missionary as he
strives to render them faithful, self-controlled and modest is an
appalling task, but one undertaken in full faith of divine guidance.
The French Protestant mission, which has its headquarters in Paris,
first began its operations in Basutoland at Morija in 1833. It possesses
at the present time fourteen head stations and eighty-two out-stations,
with a staff of twenty-one European missionaries and 122 native
catechists and schoolmasters. In 1884 the number of church members was
4,988, and of day scholars in the schools 2,947.
At Morija, the head mission station, there is a training institution for
young men who study for the Cape elementary teacher’s certificate, a
Bible school for the education of catechists, together with a
printing-press for the issue of a bimonthly periodical in Sesuto called
“Leselinyana” (or Little Light). So it can be seen that Protestants are
vying with Roman Catholics in spreading religious training and
instruction among this people.
During the late war, however, there was a distinct difference to be
noted between the influence exerted by the R. C. missionaries and the
Protestant. The Protestant, as a rule, interfered and even still meddle
with politics; they showed themselves partisans of the late Sprigg
ministry, and the consequence was that their influence declined, their
congregations fell away, and their schools became deserted. The R. C.
priests on the contrary, ignoring politics entirely, feeling their duty
to be more spiritual than temporal, were rewarded by having their
schools and churches as well attended during as before the war. As an
instance of the estimation in which they were held, two personal friends
of mine, Fathers Libihan and Cretinon, in December, 1880, were ordered
by their bishop to proceed to this very place, Roma, in the heart of
Basutoland. The war was just then at its height, when having to pass
Thaba Bosigo, where Masupha, the head centre of the rebellion, was
living, they were hospitably received and entertained until the
following morning. Though I am a Protestant myself, I cannot but
recognize that this speaks volumes in favor of the non-political
interference of my R. C. friends, and the esteem in which they were held
by the Basutos. Let any Protestant missionary have attempted this at the
time, his life would have paid the penalty of his temerity, and a just
punishment, too, I should have considered it; the mixing of religion and
politics among natives like Basutos, being, in my opinion, an
unpardonable mistake. This difference between the conduct of these
respective ministers with regard to public matters was recognized even
by the Boers in their war of 1865–68.
Bidding the hospitable monks adieu, I left Roma next morning in a
pouring rain, with the guides provided me by the chief Jonathan, having
made all the arrangements to catch the Capetown steamer at East London.
Stopping at Khorokhoro to breakfast, I continued my journey through a
country mountainous in the extreme.
Leaving the Morija mission station (French Protestant) on my left, I was
caught in a fearful thunder-storm, the rain coming down in torrents, but
I luckily found shelter in a hut in a small native village which lay in
my road.
Entering, I found myself in the midst of a Basuto family, consisting of
father, mother and seven little girls from four to twelve years of age.
Here I had the opportunity afforded me of noting the truth of that which
had often been told me concerning the rapid progress in learning, the
precocity in fact, distinguishing Basuto children. If either Mr. Moody
or Mr. Sankey had been with me, their hearts would have leaped with joy;
here in the heart of Basutoland I found the noise of the outside storm
drowned in the music of some of their popular hymns. The chief
favorites, sung over and over again, were “Ntoa sa Balumeh” (Hold the
Fort) and “Mali a Konyana” (The Blood of the Lamb). No sight ever
impressed me more with the important position music and hymns hold as
factors in the progress of evangelization.
Luther’s enemies once said that he worked more harm by his songs than
his sermons, and I felt that the same might in the nineteenth century be
repeated by enemies of the Christian faith concerning these two
celebrated American revivalists. even in the wilds of Africa.
It would be impossible to picture or portray a more peculiar scene!
Outside, the howling of the raging storm, the peals of rolling thunder,
the flashes of vivid lightning and the plash of the torrents of rain;
inside, the Basuto youngsters stark naked, myself and guides crouching
over the fire drenched to the skin, while strains familiar in years gone
by were sung with all the vigor and fervor of aboriginal youth! As soon
as the storm had passed over I rode quickly to make up for lost time,
and crossing the dangerous drift of the Salt River, rested at the Boleka
ridge thirteen miles from Mafeting. This was as far as our forces ever
advanced during the war. The road goes over a ridge which is not very
steep, and is a gap in the mountain chain. At the village close to the
roadside I saw many relics of the late war. Fragments of shells were
lying about (this being the pass which our troops tried in vain to
force), and I saw one unexploded sixty-eight-pound shell doing the
peaceful duty of serving as a seat for a Kafir who in happy ignorance
was sitting on it drying himself at a wood fire!
After a short rest for my horses and guides, I went over the ridge and
passed by the deserted intrenchments where our troops had encamped in
virtual idleness for months. A tedious ride brought me to Mafeting,
which I did not reach until far into the night; when I was very
fortunate in dropping upon an old friend, the late Captain Aschman, who
gave me a “shake-down,” for which, as there was no inn in the village, I
was sincerely thankful.
Next morning I visited the broken-down wattle huts and ragged tents
where the loyals were herded together. I found them far worse off than
their _confrères_ at Maseru, and grave were their complaints against the
government. The rations allowed them were not sufficient, they told me,
to allay their hunger, and I personally saw some emaciated looking women
collecting and eating the corn falling from the horses’ mangers. These
unfortunate creatures, stung by our ingratitude, irritated by our
injustice, hoping against hope, almost, despairing of relief and yet
remaining loyal, were enough to excite the sympathy of any true man, and
create a loathing of the cowardly panderers to expediency who were then
conducting the government of the country.
Having thoroughly investigated the condition of these people, I next
visited the cemetery, a short distance from the village, which is full
of interest. Here many an old colonist, “sleeps the sleep that knows no
waking.” Among the many monuments to men fallen in the late war is a
fine stone pedestal erected in memory of the disastrous affair at
Kalibani, which will ever be remembered in colonial annals as the place
where, on Oct. 19th, 1880, thirty-five of the First Cape mounted
yeomanry, men principally from Grahamstown and Albany, and who formed
the advance guard of General Clark’s relief column, were cut to pieces.
Every one of these unfortunate men, except one who was shot at a long
range, were, as Surgeon Major Smith, now practicing in the Diamond
Fields, who examined the bodies, told me, assegaied and hewed to pieces
with the greatest brutality by the rebellious Basutos under the chief
Mama.
A magnificent view of the surrounding mountainous country is obtained
from this graveyard. The Kalibani mountain, the Kolo, the Boleka ridge,
Tweefontein, Lerothodi’s village away in the distance, and close below
Mafeting itself, pass as in a panorama before the view.
The mushroom-like prosperity of Mafeting, brought about by the share it
received of the lavish expenditure of £6,000,000 of colonial money
during the war, had, however, at the time of my visit, completely waned,
and many had been sorely disappointed by the sudden cessation of
hostilities.
Leaving this place in the afternoon I reached Wepener the same night,
and after receiving the kind hospitality of Mr. Fraser, _the_ merchant
of the place, started again at daybreak, and arrived at Aliwal North
after a long day’s drive. A good view of the town, which is of
considerable importance, possessing a valuable library, a nice little
club, large church and well-filled stores, is obtained before crossing
the fine iron bridge leading over the Orange River.
Staying the night, noon next day found me sitting behind four horses on
the road to Queenstown, where, after passing through Dordrecht, I
arrived at six o’clock, just in time to catch the night train for East
London, where I arrived next morning (March 13th). After a rest I went
round the town, saw the sights, being particularly interested in the
reclaiming of land which was going on under government direction at the
mouth of the Buffalo River, and which, at some not far distant date,
will be of great value. The next day I was invited to a large picnic
given by one of the boating companies, at a delightful spot in a wooded
glen about four miles from East London, on the banks of the Buffalo
River. Glorious weather, good company, beautiful scenery, charming
music, a fine lunch, sparkling champagne; everything harmonized to make
a pleasant day. Colonel Schermbrucker and myself were called upon to
speak, and we complied in a few words. Returning in the afternoon to
East London I spent the night reveling in the mazy waltz at a ball given
in the Mutual Hall, and sailed next morning in the _Melrose_ for Port
Elizabeth, where I transhipped to the _Grantully Castle_ for
Capetown.[89]
The opening of the Cape parliament following in a day or two, I found
among the passengers ten fellow members of the house of assembly hailing
from different parts of the colony, and proceeding to the performance of
their legislative duties.
Among others on board I met Sir D. Wedderburn, since deceased, whose
acquaintance I had formed in Kimberley, where I had the pleasure of
entertaining him some few weeks before on his way round through Natal
and the Free State.
Many a pleasant hour I spent talking over with him the various political
topics of the day. His opinion of South African men and things had not
been changed at all since I last saw him, and he told me “he had seen
nothing in Africa which caused him in the least to alter the opinions he
had formed before he came out.” I recollect his opinions on the then two
all absorbing topics of the day, the Transvaal and the Zulu questions.
These were very clear; he often said “we ought never to have fought for
what we ought never to have taken,” adding in reference to the Zulu
question, on which he had formed a decided opinion, “there was little
pleasure in punishing men who bravely defended their native country.”
Sir Bartle Frere’s “forward” policy found no supporter in him.
There was something irresistibly charming in meeting and discussing
passing events with such a man. He impressed all who met him with the
sincerity of his convictions and the honesty of his purpose.
Our journey, however, quickly drew to an end. The work of the session,
we found on our arrival, had already commenced.
The main business transacted during this session was the passing through
the house of assembly of an act, throwing further restrictions on the
trade in diamonds, which I have already fully dealt with, the presenting
of the petition of Jonathan Molappo, praying that a deputation of three
Basutos might “plead their cause” at the bar of the house, which proved
a profitless appeal, debates on Basutoland following _ad nauseam_, the
grant of two extra members to represent Kimberley, and the introduction
of the “Constitution Ordinance Amendment Bill,” allowing the Dutch
language to be spoken in the house. This last measure met with no
opposition, but became law on Jan. 14th, 1882. After this bill had gone
through its various stages, Mr. Luttig, one of the Dutch members, rose
and made the first speech in that language, expressing his gratification
that no opposition was offered by his English speaking friends; but,
though a Dutchman, he concluded by saying “that although it is my first
speech in Dutch, it will most likely be my last, as I wish to promote
harmony and good feeling, and when I speak, I wish my English friends
who do not understand Dutch to know what I wish to convey.” This
privilege has not since its concession been much used.
After the usual session in 1882, a short special session was held in
January 1883, which was called to deal exclusively with the affairs of
Basutoland, and arrange about the compensation of the “loyals” and other
matters of importance. On my return to Kimberley in February after this
special session, according to my previously expressed intention, I
resigned my seat in the Cape house of assembly.
I then resumed full charge of my medical practice, until I met with a
severe accident in December of the same year, when proceeding to inquire
into some cases of suspected small-pox.
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