“He was, and never returned to it, though he earnestly longed and prayed that he might. His prayer was heard after his death, and his spirit returned in the faithful band of servants, who were raised up to carry on his work. I never saw George Schmidt while in Africa. I had no wish to do so. His name was a by-word of reproach on my lips. But afterwards, while I was in Holland, during a three years’ absence from the colony, I did encounter him.”
The speaker paused for a few minutes, and then resumed. “I shall never forget our meeting. I was passing through one of the towns on the Rhine, when I saw a notice that George Schmidt would deliver a discourse about South African Missions, and endeavour to raise funds for carrying them on. I determined to go to the meeting, expose the falsehood and calumnies which I should be sure to hear, and raise such a tumult as would put a stop to him and his doings. I went and I heard him. What we read in the Bible of men forsaking all and following Christ—which had always seemed so difficult to be believed—came home to me in all its vividness. I was carried away by his simple eloquence. I was humbled, conscience-stricken, filled suddenly and for ever with a new purpose in life. I went to him as soon as the meeting was over, told him who I was, and asked his forgiveness for what I and mine had done to thwart and grieve him.”
“And he welcomed you kindly, doubtless?” said Lavie.
“Yes, like himself I remained in Holland, and used every means in my power to obtain the leave to renew his mission, which he was seeking from the Government. My family remonstrated against the course I was pursuing, and finding that I was not to be moved, renounced all connection with me. I cared little for that; but the failure of my applications to the authorities distressed me much more than it did Schmidt; who closed his eyes, in extreme old age, fully assured that the prayer of his life would soon be granted.”
“And it was, was it not?” asked Warley.
“Yes. In 1792 we obtained the long-desired permission. I was one of those who accompanied Marsveld and his colleagues to South Africa. I well remember the day when we visited Bavian’s kloof, which had been the scene of George Schmidt’s labours, broken off nearly fifty years before. There were the remains of the school he had built, and the cottage in which he had dwelt—all in ruins, but sacred in our eyes as the homes in which we had been born. There was the pear tree which he had planted, now a strong and lofty tree. Above all, there were the remains of the flock he brought into the Redeemer’s fold—one or two aged servants of Christ whom he had instructed in the faith, and who had retained the memory of his lessons through fifty years of darkness!”
“The Dutch did not interfere with you any further, did they, sir?” asked Ernest.
“Not as they had done before, but they discouraged us indirectly in every possible way. They would never suffer us to build a church, in which to carry on our worship; and it was not until the English took possession of the Cape that we were able to do so.”
“You were not interfered with during the time of the English occupation, I believe,” said Lavie.
“No, if anything, helped and encouraged. When the colony was restored to the Dutch three years ago, another attempt was made to turn us out of the colony. But English rule had produced its effect on public opinion, and nothing open was attempted. The system pursued by the Dutch farmers was, nevertheless, so obstructive, that I thought it better to give up my mission to the Hottentots, and betake myself to a different part of the colony, where I have been living for the last two years.”