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.
CHAPTER XXVI.
DESCRIPTION OF THE RELIGIOUS BODIES OF THE DIAMOND FIELDS FROM THE EARLIEST DAYS.—EDUCATIONAL EFFORTS.—THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND.—ROMAN CATHOLICS FROM THE DEATH OF FATHER HIDIEN TO THAT OF FATHER WALSHE.—DUTCH REFORMED CHURCH.—DOPPERS.—WESLEYANS.—PRESBYTERIANS.—GERMAN LUTHERANS.—JEWS.—MAHOMETANS.—HINDUS.—“BISHOP MELLET.”—NATIVES.—NEGLECTED OPPORTUNITIES.—ADVENT OF SALVATION ARMY.—SUNDRY VISITORS.—BIRDS OF PASSAGE.
The average diamond digger, in the first wild rush, “the feverish race for wealth,” was not of a markedly irreligious disposition, as might have been expected, judging from the analogy of mining camps in other parts of the world.
The distance of the Vaal River from any colonial town, and the expense of reaching the diggings on its banks made it a matter of impossibility for men without means, either to reach the place or to support themselves after their arrival; hence, the first comers were, as a matter of course, above the general stamp of those who constitute a digging community. They were men, as a rule, well educated and well brought up, and it was not likely that they would altogether forget their early religious training or to allow these duties to lapse into utter neglect; but at the same time the results of the complete absence of women and children, and the sobering effect which their influence produces, was in the early days more or less observable.
The first clergymen of the Church of England who visited the new El Dorado, were Archdeacons Kitton and Croghan, of the diocese of Bloemfontein, who visited Klipdrift, on the Vaal River, in 1870, where amidst the most strange and unusual surroundings they held religious services for the diggers.
I have still a vivid recollection of the primitive state of things existing, even when I arrived some months afterward. On the first Sunday that I spent on the Diamond Fields in November 1871, I attended a “Church of England” service at the New Rush or Colesberg Kopje, as Kimberley was then called. This was held in a canvas tent billiard-room, situated near the spot where the “Blue Posts” still remains. On entering I beheld a full-robed clergyman officiating at one end of a billiard table, which served for his reading desk, whilst a large and attentive crowd sat around the other end, some on rude benches which were fixed along the walls, others perched upon gin cases, buckets reversed, or any other make-shift that came to hand. The congregation behaved with suitable decorum, but I confess it was not easy to keep the mind from wandering to the incongruity of the surroundings. Whilst the parson was earnestly engaged imploring our deliverance “from all the deceits of the world, the flesh and the devil,” I caught many an eye looking askance at the cues in the corner, no doubt indulging in reflections on the past, and in speculations as to the success or non-success of some match to be played in the future. Moreover, when the parson was praying or the people singing, it was not particularly edifying to be interrupted by the lively chaff and occasional bursts of blasphemy, which we could plainly hear through the canvas party-walls, which separated us from the adjoining bar and its half tipsy occupants. Defoe’s lines:
“Wherever God erects a house of prayer,
The Devil always builds a chapel there.”
had here a liberal interpretation indeed—although I am not sure that they were strictly applicable in this instance, seeing that our parson had knowingly thrust himself into the devil’s own domain.