Note 2. Shortly after Lord Charles Somerset succeeded to the government of the Cape, in 1817, Graham’s Town being attacked by Makanna, the pretended Kaffir prophet, a witch-doctor, Colonel, now Major-General Sir Thomas Wiltshire, after defeating a horde of these savages, followed up his success by pursuing them into their own country, where he forced them to sue for peace. This was granted, on condition of their surrendering Makanna, and giving up in atonement for their past, and as security against future offences, that tract of country lying between the Fish and Kat Rivers on the one side, and the Tyumie and Keiskama on the other.
Part 1, Chapter IV.
The Kaffirs and the Aborigines.
Though the publications on the Cape colony are already so numerous, and they all more or less profess to describe the native inhabitants, it is certain that we yet know very little of their real character; more especially of the character of the Kaffirs. These are often painted as an aboriginal race, “a pastoral and gentle people.” They are neither the one nor the other. They are intruders on the lands that they occupy; their habits are the most savage imaginable; (see Note 1) their treachery is well-known to all who have been unfortunate enough to come in contact with them, and the conversions among them in ninety-nine cases out of the hundred have no other existence than in the warm imaginations of the well-meaning but ill-informed members of Missionary Societies. What converts there are, are principally from the despised slaves of the haughty Kaffirs, the Fingoes.
There are some missionary stations within a ride of Fort Peddie,—one of them, D’Urban, being scarcely a mile from the post. I rode over there one day, to see a Fingo congregation. Among them, indeed, were some Kaffirs; in foot, it was composed of many shades of colour, the pale-faced Englishman, the dingy children of fair-haired mothers and dusky fathers, the sallow, stunted Hottentot, the merry-eyed Fingo, and the more dignified Kaffir. On our approach to the building, we distinguished a loud monotonous voice holding forth in the Kaffir language, without the smallest attention to intonation, or emphasis. This was the interpreter. In the missionary’s absence, an assistant preached in Dutch, which was translated, sentence by sentence, into Kaffir. The unconcerned air of the interpreter, and his reckless bawl, were much at variance with the wrapt air of attention bestowed on the exhortations by the congregation. Some of the Kaffirs and Fingoes were well-dressed, in homely costume, indeed, but clean and neat, consisting of moleskin or fustian jackets and trousers, felt hats, like those worn by English waggoners, and strong shoes. Others reclined on the floor, with their blankets, or karosses, draped round them, and ornamented with strings of beads, whose gaudy colours contrasted finely with their dark skins. Another day, I witnessed the baptism of fourteen Fingoes. Both men and women seemed to feel the solemnity of their position, the women particularly evinced extraordinary emotion. Some were unable to restrain their sobs, and one aged being affected me much by the manner in which she sought to subdue her feelings, wiping the tears quietly away as they followed each other down her dark cheek. All were decently clothed, and particularly intelligent in their appearance.
At the close of the service, the missionary permits any of his congregation to ask questions concerning such sacred matters as they may at first find difficult to understand. Some of their arguments evince a singular disposition to subtle reasoning, and prove how arduous a task is undertaken by those who endeavour to convert these poor savages to Christianity. One day, after the missionary had dwelt on the misery arising from sin, and had expatiated on the natural proneness of man to vice rather than virtue, and on the dreadful consequences of disobedience manifested in the fall of our first parents, and its terrible results, ameliorated only by the hope of heaven through the merits of a Redeemer, in whose power to save and mediate we alone can trust, a Kaffir, who had given his whole attention to the discussion, begged leave to ask a few questions. It was granted, and he began.
“You tell us,” said he, in the measured and gentle tone peculiar to his language, “that all the world is wicked—dreadfully wicked; that man is condemned to punishment, except he be redeemed by faith. You tell us that every one is wrong, and God alone is right?”
“Certainly,” replied the missionary; “except we believe in and obey God, we cannot be saved.”