This art of reasoning, however it may lead them into discussions as full of sophistry as ingenuity, may be the means of converting some of them to Christianity. It makes them keen listeners; and, since the Word of God is so plain, that “he who runs may read,” may not these poor people be persuaded to that which must teach them that wisdom and power, and mercy, and unbounded benevolence, are the attributes of that God whom they are invited to worship? Sometimes, I hope this, and then some proof of Kaffir treachery makes me wonder how I can ever form such a hope.
I should say, with Fingoes, Kaffirs and Hottentots, persuasion and quiet reasoning would work the will of God before all the threats relative to that dreadful world where sinners are described as in everlasting torment. This is hardly the place for such discussion, but I cannot help saying, that I think the creed of many who profess to explain the Word of God, a fearful one: instead of holding up our beneficent Creator as a Being worthy to be served for love, they dwell too much on the punishment of sin, rather than on the reward of virtue. It is by some deemed wiser to frighten the ignorant into serving God, than to lead them by gentle means to love Him, to honour and to put their whole trust in Him. What a mistake! I have often pondered on the difference (if I may so express it) of the two sources of religion—the one proceeding from fear of our great spiritual enemy (and which, after all, is a fallacious kind of worship)—and the other from love of the Almighty!
Tell the savage that God is infinitely wise and powerful, and good to those who serve Him, and he will at least listen further; by which means much may be done. Talk to him of a dreadful place of punishment, he will turn his back on you, and refuse to enlist under the banners of those whose chief arguments are based on such threats. Begin with reference to God as merciful, as well as just, and the savage will soon acknowledge the necessity of punishment for evil deeds in an equal degree with rewards for virtue. It is right he should know that eternal suffering awaits the sinner, but, before he is thus threatened, teach him “the beauty of holiness,” and “praise God as one worthy to be praised.”
On my journey into Kaffirland, our road one day lay through a pleasant country, where the grass was green, and the mimosas bright with their golden clusters of flowers. At the spot where we outspanned, a waggon, driven by Fingoes, had halted: it was drawn close up to a bush, and the party in charge of it, consisting of two men, three women, and their children, were seated in the shade. To our surprise, we observed that one man was reading aloud to the party; and, anxious to hear the language, which is peculiarly soft and liquid, we walked up to the group. Our surprise was increased when we found that the book occupying their attention was the Bible, translated into the Kaffir language, which, by the way, scarcely differs from the Fingo. The sight of this dusky group so employed, had a strange effect, and the flowing ease and beauty of the language in which the Word of God was explained to the attentive listeners, increased the interest we felt in the scene. None of them could speak English; but the reader, pointing to the book, uttered the single word “Good” impressively.
It is singular enough that Barrow and other travellers do not allude to the race of Fingoes; this oversight is probably owing to their having been, till of late years, the slaves of the Kaffirs.6 The following account of them I have gathered from a work compiled by the editor of the “Graham’s Town Journal,” and published in 1836:—
“It appears that the term ‘Fingo’ is not their national appellation, but a reproachful epithet, denoting extreme poverty or misery,—person having no claim to justice, mercy, or even life. They are the remnants of eight powerful nations, which have been destroyed or driven out of their country by the destructive wars carried on amongst the natives of the interior. Five of these nations were destroyed by the cruel Matawana, and the rest by the notorious Zoola Chief, Chaka, or some of the tribes tributary to them. The names of these nations were:
“1. The Amalubi,—signifying a people who tear and pull off.
“2. The Amazizi,—a people who bring. About twenty years ago, they, as a powerful nation, inhabited the country on the north-east of Natal.
“3. The Amabile,—people of mercy.
“4. The Amazabizembi,—axe-vendors.
“5. The Abasaekunene,—right-hand people.
“6. The Amantozakive,—people whose things are their own.
“7. The Amarelidwani,—no definite meaning.
“8. Abashwawo,—revilers or reproachers.
“These nations being broken up and dispersed, many of those who escaped flew westward, and thus came into collision with the Amakosa Kaffirs, but principally with the tribes of the late Hintza, whose death is graphically described by Sir James Alexander, 14th regiment, in his account of the last Kaffir irruption in 1834 and 1835. They became slaves, herds, ‘hewers of wood, and drawers of water,’ as well as tillers of the ground. They were oppressed in every way; when by industry they had gathered together a few head of cattle, they were either forcibly taken away from them, or, being accused of witchcraft, their property was confiscated. In short, their lives and property were held on the same precarious tenure, the mere will of their capricious, cruel and avaricious taskmasters.
“This state of bondage at last became utterly intolerable, and its victims only looked for an opportunity to throw off the yoke. Their attention had been anxiously turned towards the colony, and communications had been made to the frontier authorities long before the irruption in 1834, urgently praying for an asylum within our boundary: but this application was kept a profound secret, from a conviction that were their intentions known to the Kaffirs, the indiscriminate massacre of the poor Fingoes would be the consequence.”
The war, of which many histories are given, delivered these poor creatures from their bondage, and they are now a happy people, with their own independent possessions of cattle, Sir James Alexander supplies an interesting description of their deliverance from captivity.
They are a fine muscular race, bearing a great resemblance to the Kaffirs, yet easily distinguishable from them: unlike the Kaffirs, they are a cheerful race. The moonlight nights seem their seasons of festivity; and their wild chant, now rising loud and shrill, from the huts opposite Fort Peddie, and now felling into a low muttered chorus, now led by a single voice, and again sinking into indistinctness, has a singular effect on civilised ears, not the less extraordinary from its being sometimes united with a running accompaniment of wolves howling about the cattle-kraals, and dogs yelling after them. At such times, the wild chorus generally ceases, lights are carried to and fro in the kraal7, or hamlet, and there is a sound of a hunt, such as one might fancy would be ably illustrated by Retzsch’s wondrous pencil. After successive shouts from the Fingoes, and yells from the dogs, the yelp of the wolf is heard further off, and changes to a smothered whine, till it ceases altogether. The dogs continue barking for some time, the torches are extinguished, and, as all again becomes quiet, the strange chant recommences. Sometimes the noise of clapping of hands, resembling, from the distance at which it is heard, the sound of the tom-tom, or rude drum, may be distinguished, marking time probably to the steps of the untiring dancers, for their revelry generally lasts till morning’s dawn.
Neither Fingoes nor Kaffirs seem to take much note of time: they sing and dance when they are merry, sleep when fatigued, eat and drink when hungry and thirsty. Days, weeks, months, and years pass by unnoticed, and uncounted. If in want of comforts which must be purchased, they work to earn money; if well provided, they will do nothing. In cold weather, they will not leave their huts even to milk their cows.
One of the most interesting anecdotes I have heard, was told me one day, relative to a Fingo man, tallying well with the scene I have alluded to of the group reading the Bible under the shade of the mimosa-bush. A poor Fingo had made several applications, from Graham’s Town, to a missionary nearly fifty miles off, for a Bible; but for some time there had not been a sufficient number printed to meet the devout wishes of those “who would become Christians.” Two years elapsed from the time this man first asked for the Bible. At last one day, he suddenly appeared at the station, and asked the missionary for one. The latter replied, that he was afraid he yet had none to spare; “but,” said he to the Fingo, “if you will