There are seven missionaries,all in orders but one,the blacksmith,and all married,except the resident director of the boys'boarding-school;there is a doctor,a carpenter,a cabinet-maker,a shoe-maker,and a storekeeper -a very agreeable man,who had been missionary in Greenland and Labrador,and interpreter to MacClure.There is one 'Studirter Theolog'.All are Germans,and so are their wives.My friend the storekeeper married without having ever beheld his wife before they met at the altar,and came on board ship at once with her.He said it was as good a way of marrying as any other,and that they were happy together.She was lying in,so I did not see her.At eight years old,their children are all sent home to Germany to be educated,and they seldom see them again.On each side of the church are schools,and next to them the missionaries'houses on one side of the square,and on the other a row of workshops,where the Hottentots are taught all manner of trades.I have got a couple of knives,made at Gnadenthal,for the children.The girls occupy the school in the morning,and the boys in the afternoon;half a day is found quite enough of lessons in this climate.The infant school was of both sexes,but a different set morning and afternoon.The missionaries'children were in the infant school;and behind the little blonde German 'Madels'three jet black niggerlings rolled over each other like pointer-pups,and grinned,and didn't care a straw for the spelling;while the dingy yellow little bastaards were straining their black eyes out,with eagerness to answer the master's questions.He and the mistress were both Bastaards,and he seemed an excellent teacher.The girls were learning writing from a master,and Bible history from a mistress,also people of colour;and the stupid set (mostly black)were having spelling hammered into their thick skulls by another yellow mistress,in another room.At the boarding school were twenty lads,from thirteen up to twenty,in training for school-teachers at different stations.Gnadenthal supplies the Church of England with them,as well as their own stations.There were Caffres,Fingoes,a Mantatee,one boy evidently of some Oriental blood,with glossy,smooth hair and a copper skin -and the rest Bastaards of various hues,some mixed with black,probably Mozambique.The Caffre lads were splendid young Hercules'.They had just printed the first book in the Caffre language (I've got it for Dr.Hawtrey,)-extracts from the New Testament,-and I made them read the sheets they were going to bind;it is a beautiful language,like Spanish in tone,only with a queer 'click'in it.The boys drew,like Chinese,from 'copies',and wrote like copper-plate;they sang some of Mendelssohn's choruses from 'St.Paul'splendidly,the Caffres rolling out soft rich bass voices,like melodious thunder.They are clever at handicrafts,and fond of geography and natural history,incapable of mathematics,quick at languages,utterly incurious about other nations,and would all rather work in the fields than learn anything but music;good boys,honest,but 'TROTZIG'.So much for Caffres,Fingoes,&c.The Bastaards are as clever as whites,and more docile -so the 'rector'told me.The boy who played the organ sang the 'Lorelei'like an angel,and played us a number of waltzes and other things on the piano,but he was too shy to talk;while the Caffres crowded round me,and chattered away merrily.The Mantatees,whom I cannot distinguish from Caffres,are scattered all over the colony,and rival the English as workmen and labourers -fine stalwart,industrious fellows.Our little 'boy'Kleenboy hires a room for fifteen shillings a month,and takes in his compatriots as lodgers at half a crown a week -the usurious little rogue!His chief,one James,is a bricklayer here,and looks and behaves like a prince.It is fine to see his black arms,ornamented with silver bracelets,hurling huge stones about.
All Gnadenthal is wonderfully fruitful,being well watered,but it is not healthy for whites;I imagine,too hot and damp.There are three or four thousand coloured people there,under the control of the missionaries,who allow no canteens at all.The people may have what they please at home,but no public drinking-place is allowed,and we had to take our own beer and wine for the three days.The gardens and burial-ground are beautiful,and the square is entirely shaded by about ten or twelve superb oaks;nothing prettier can be conceived.It is not popular in the neighbourhood.
'You see it makes the d-d niggers cheeky'to have homes of their own -and the girls are said to be immoral.As to that,there are no so-called 'morals'among the coloured people,and how or why should there?It is an honour to one of these girls to have a child by a white man,and it is a degradation to him to marry a dark girl.A pious stiff old Dutchwoman who came here the other day for the Sacrament (which takes place twice a year),had one girl with her,big with child by her son,who also came for the Sacrament,and two in the straw at home by the other son;this caused her exactly as much emotion as I feel when my cat kittens.
No one takes any notice,either to blame or to nurse the poor things -they scramble through it as pussy does.The English are almost equally contemptuous;but there is one great difference.My host,for instance,always calls a black 'a d-d nigger';but if that nigger is wronged or oppressed he fights for him,or bails him out of the Tronk,and an English jury gives a just verdict;while a Dutch one simply finds for a Dutchman,against any one else,and ALWAYS against a dark man.I believe this to be true,from what Ihave seen and heard;and certainly the coloured people have a great preference for the English.
