I am a white Anglican woman but I am thinking of leaving the Anglican Church and joining one which has more Christian views about mixing with blacks.
This mixing is not natural. Have you forgotten the story of Zimri who brought a Midianitish woman into his tent? When Phinehas, the grandson of Aaron, saw this, he took a javelin and went into the tent and thrust the man through his back and the woman through her belly. There was only one thrust, not two. You understand what was going on, don’t you?
I support Dr. Hendrik in his plan to stop blacks going to white churches. Don’t they have churches of their own? But you like it, don’t you? I know you have condemned the Mixed Marriages Act. I suppose you condemn the Immorality Act too. Then you can’t blame people if they think certain things.
You will lose lots of members of the Anglican Church, especially those who won’t drink the wine from a chalice that’s touched the lips of the black nation.
I have just found another passage and I think you ought to read it before you deliver any more of those charges that are widely reported in the English press, and only incite racial hatred in our law-abiding country. I’ll quote only two verses of this chapter.
‘And when the Lord thy God shall deliver them before thee, thou shalt smite them, and utterly destroy them; thou shall make no covenant with them, nor show mercy unto them. Neither shalt thou make marriages with them: thy daughter shalt thou not give unto his son, nor his daughter shalt thou take unto thy son.’
I am sick and tired of the Anglican Church. I am sick and tired of seeing pictures of Father Huddleston patting black children. He also puts his arms round black women. You know what people say, don’t you?
You are always using the name of God. Well, God used Phinehas to stab those two in the act. I would not stab anybody but I would not hesitate to defrock you with my own bare hands.
I sign myself
Proud White Christian Woman
– Good morning.
She looked at him suspiciously. For one thing he did not look at her when he said it. One might have thought he did not wish to be seen saying it. She moved from Cereals to Jams and he followed her, not with any obvious intention, but as though he wished to move to Jams also.
– What is your name?
– My name is my own.
– Yes. I know that, but I would like to know what it is.
– Why do you like to know?
– When you see people and you like them, you like to know their names.
– I do not tell my name to any stranger.
– I have seen you before, more than once.
– Anyone can see me. If I go to a shop anyone can see me, but my name is my own.
– Do you always come on Monday?
– Yes, I buy for the week, for me and the madam. She is too old to buy.
A white woman was drawing nearer to them with her basket.
He said to her in a low voice.
– I shall come again on Monday at this time.
– You can come. The shop is open and any person can come.
. . . Yes, the lump is still in my throat. This Ruth woman, to use a slang expression, absolutely slays me. I have never seen such eager, questing, and apparently inexhaustible energy. If someone is being unjustly treated, or hurt, or cheated by the powers-that-be, she’s there. She has just come back from Newcastle, having been called there by Emmanuel Nene, who is another one of these very rare human beings on whom has been bestowed a genetic fortune. Neither of them seems able to tire. Emmanuel seems able to smile on the most calamitous occasions. He is very religious and believes that his power is the power of the Holy Spirit. Quite a lot of people think that religion gives you this vitality. It is nonsense of course, Emmanuel has vitality and religion. Ruth has vitality and no religion, well, certainly not any formal religion. It is a matter of the genes, and it is quite unnecessary to invoke any supernatural agency. I am afraid that Emmanuel has got me on my rationalist high horse, and I try to keep my rationalism quite separate from my liberalism, or should I rather say, I try to avoid any discussion of rationalism in party circles. So many members of the party are there because of their religious faith, like Laura de Kock and her husband Hendrik, and I love them both and would not like to hurt them. I love Emmanuel too, with his big hat and his riding-breeches. I would guess that he has never had a nasty thought in his life.
The party conference in Pietermaritzburg also gave me a lump in my throat. I am getting more sentimental as I get older. There we were, white aristocrats from Natal, black landowners correctly dressed in ancient clothes, brilliant Jews from Johannesburg, foolhardy Afrikaners from Pretoria, those beautiful young Indian girls from Durban, old-fashioned coloured liberals from the Cape; and of course Patrick bursting with grand ideas, and Molteno eying us all with a kind of benign malignity, and this aging professor of Biology, who would watch the whole thing with scientific impartiality, if it weren’t for the trouble he has with his throat.
The sight of Molteno addressing this motley mob is not easily to be forgotten. Out of his mouth came forth those exact, controlled, faultless sentences, warning us against Utopia and against alienating the wise, steady, devoted liberals of the Cape. Ruth can hardly keep still and Philip Drummond has to tell her to sit down and await her turn, and when her turn comes she tears Molteno to pieces for his equivocal espousal of justice. Molteno looks at her as though he were some Olympian Judge of Appeal, astonished and mystified that a lawyer could exhibit such passion.
We closed the conference with a braaivleis at Philip Drummond’s house. The braaivleis proved again that the Liberal Party is a gigantic tour de force. Drummond’s house is three times the size of mine, and probably six to eight times the size of the house of the average black landowner. The dining-room alone is as big as many a black house. Yet no consciousness of it is to be detected anywhere. All the members call him Philip. He himself is a mixture of earth and sky. His philosophy, his creed if you like, is a blend of utopianism, pragmatism, and scepticism. His political morals are impeccable, but he hides what Molteno would call his evangelistic zeal behind a mask of banter, and it is very noticeable that his banter towards African members is decidedly milder than his banter towards the white ones, which at times can be quite cutting. He moves among his guests, teasing them in English and in Zulu, and I watch him. I am sitting next to an African woman from Underberg, and she watches me watching Drummond, and she says to me, ‘We love that man.’ And that is true, I think. The African membership of the party is increasing rapidly, and they will soon outnumber the wise, steady, devoted liberals of the Cape or anywhere else.
Because of my past I am very conscious that the party is not yet aware of its tour de force nature. The question as to why Drummond’s dining-room is as big as many a black house has never been raised, nor the question as to why ninety-five per cent of the cars at the conference belonged to white members. The party has committed itself to the fight against all unjust laws, to the elimination of discrimination, and to the destruction of the colour bar. Within the party itself there appears to be a total absence of racial prejudice and racial thinking. I would not say, of racial fear, because it has so long been a factor in our history. Prem Bodasingh, the beautiful young woman from Durban with two of the most beautiful hands that have ever been seen, told me that her fear of the African people had much abated since she had met Emmanuel of the big hat and the riding-breeches. Well, that is something, but there is so far no discussion as to why there are all these laws, nor any discussion as to their economic causes. I have long since ceased to believe that the causes of all social ills are economic, but so far the party seems almost unaware that many of the causes are economic.
We shall all miss Manilal Gandhi very much. Patrick Duncan will miss him especially, because Manilal was always a reminder to him of the power of satyagraha, and Patrick with his very militant and at times aggressive nature needed such a reminder. Manilal was if anything too gentle. He lacked the steel-like qual
ity of his father. He was brave enough, and went and sat in all the public places where Indians are not allowed, but the police must have had special instructions because they simply took no notice of him. That was of course before the Defiance Campaign.
It can’t be much fun to be the son of one of the most famous men in the history of the world. Although the Mahatma proved a very indifferent kind of father, Manilal was intensely proud of him, and did his best to continue his father’s work. I shall also miss him especially, not because he reminded me of the power of satyagraha but because I could see in him all those virtues and defects of gentleness that are in myself.
I must stop now because in a few minutes I must go to earn my bread and butter.
PS. On re-reading I see that I wrote that on people like Ruth and Emmanuel had been ‘bestowed’ a genetic fortune. My rationalist self disapproves of this expression. Nor would it approve of saying that they had been ‘given’ a genetic fortune. I should have written that they had ‘inherited’ it.
Early in 1957 the Most Reverend Geoffrey Clayton, Archbishop of Cape Town, decided that the Church of the Province of South Africa, that is the Anglican Church, should inform the Prime Minister that it would not be able to obey Clause 29(c) of the Native Laws Amendment Bill if the Bill passed into law.
Clause 29(c) was the clause which would forbid any church in an area designated as ‘white’ under the Group Areas Act from admitting any African to worship without the permission of the Minister of Native Affairs after he had consulted the local authority.
The Archbishop was not empowered to make a decision which would bind the Church, and he therefore summoned to Cape Town the committee appointed by episcopal synod in 1956, to deal with any crisis of this nature. The committee was composed of the bishops of Grahamstown, Johannesburg, Pretoria, and Natal, and they arrived at Bishopscourt on the fifth day of March 1957, the day called Ash Wednesday.
The Archbishop did not take this step eagerly. On the contrary he took it with great heaviness of heart. There were two reasons for this. He was in his seventy-third year and had never during his long life thought that he might one day defy the State. He had preached many times on the text, We ought to obey God rather than man, but had not looked with a very favourable eye on people like Huddleston and Scott who thought that was what they were doing. Now he was about to do it himself.
His second reason was personal and very human. The idea of going to prison filled him with a revulsion that was almost fear. On the Sunday before the bishops’ meeting he preached for Ted Langton, a man very dear to him. He said to Langton, ‘Ted, next Sunday I may be in prison.’ Langton exclaimed, ‘Your Grace!’ The Archbishop said, ‘It’s true. I have written a letter and it will not be liked by the Government, who might send me to prison.’ Langton said, ‘If you go to prison, I think the majority of us would follow.’ The Archbishop said, ‘I don’t want to go to prison. I am much too old. But if I have to go I’ll go.’ Langton was near to weeping.
The bishops immediately agreed that the law must be disobeyed, and after a few changes had been made, agreed to the Archbishop’s letter, which contained these sentences:
‘We recognise the great gravity of disobedience to the law of the land. We believe that obedience to secular authority, even in matters about which we differ in opinion, is a command laid upon us by God. But we are commanded to render unto Caesar the things which be Caesar’s, and to God the things which are God’s. There are therefore some matters which are God’s and not Caesar’s, and we believe that the matters dealt with in Clause 29(c) are among them.
‘It is because we believe this that we feel bound to state that if the Bill were to become law in its present form we should ourselves be unable to obey it or to counsel our clergy and people to do so.’
The bishops left Cape Town on the Thursday morning, and the Archbishop worked in his study. One of his tasks was to sign the letter to the Prime Minister. After lunch he dictated letters to his chaplain. About three o’clock the chaplain heard him singing and moving about his study, which he always did very noisily. Down in the garden below the head gardener saw the Archbishop at the window. His head was out of the window and he was looking down at the ground. This was not unusual. The head gardener would say to himself, ‘The Archbishop has a lot of work to do and he is thinking.’ The Archbishop left the window and soon after the head gardener heard what seemed to be books falling, followed by a cry, but he thought nothing of it. At twenty-past three the chaplain found the Archbishop lying on the floor of his study. He thought it was some kind of a game, and said, ‘Get up, your Grace.’ But his Grace was dead. The chaplain and a brother priest said together the office for the Commendation of the Soul, which begins, ‘Go forth, O Christian Soul, on your journey from this World.’
By the wish of the Archbishop the funeral service was not to be one of thanksgiving, but of penitence for one who had been a sinner. It was attended by many notables and dignitaries, but neither the Government nor the Governor-General was represented.
COLOURED MOURNERS ASKED TO LEAVE FAMILY POSTPONES SERVICE
Loeriestad — This quiet village in the forests of the Outeniqua mountains has been torn in two by the action of Dominie Krog, who yesterday ordered coloured mourners to leave the funeral service of the late Mr. Cornelius Bezuidenhout. Mr. Bezuidenhout was one of the most respected farmers in the district, and some twenty of his workers came to the service, taking their seats unobtrusively at the back of the church.
Dominee Krog refused to take the service until the coloured mourners had left the church. An elder of the congregation ordered them to leave. As soon as the sons of the deceased became aware of this, they went to the vestry to remonstrate with the dominee, who told them that he had acted in terms of a synodal ruling, and had no power to do otherwise.
After consulting with their mother, the sons postponed the funeral, which will take place today in the Loeriestad Methodist Church.
‘It was a great shock to me,’ said Mrs. Bezuidenhout. ‘I could scarcely believe it. My husband was a most considerate employer, and his workers wished to pay their last respects. I did not believe that such a thing could happen in a Christian church.’
White opinion in Loeriestad is sharply divided over the dominee’s action.
. . . I understand your feelings about the Loeriestad affair. Of course the English press has made great ado about it, and has blown it up out of all proportion. I am told that the coloured people left the church very quietly, and even willingly when the facts had been explained to them. I do not like interfering with the freedom of the press, but I quite understand the Prime Minister’s anger. A small affair in a small village in the Outeniqua forests becomes news throughout the world, and the press must carry the sole responsibility. This kind of reporting makes our work at United Nations almost impossible.
Nevertheless you are right in thinking that the whole thing is very sad, and that it does not do any good to our nation. But you may comfort yourself that when Clause 29(c) becomes law, this kind of thing will not happen. People will know beforehand who is allowed to enter the church and who is not, and if it is a funeral the family can if they wish make other arrangements.
The Archbishop’s death has also strengthened opposition to Clause 29(c). I do not for a moment share the view of those who believe that he was struck down by the Almighty because he intended to defy those whom the Almighty has put in charge of our affairs. I think this is an extreme view to take. I am fully prepared to believe that at his age he found the task which he thought he ought to perform too onerous for him.
Yet I disapprove totally of the way these English churches perform what they think to be their tasks. They issue statements to the English press, they talk of defiance, they are in fact threatening Dr. Hendrik that he will be facing a most serious problem if all the bishops go to jail, and perhaps a great number of their people. The one truth is that the jails could not cope with an influx of churchmen and perhaps churchwomen. The ot
her truth is much more unpalatable. The news will go round the world and will do us irreparable harm.
That is why I so admire the methods adopted by our own churches. They have issued no public statements but have been to see Dr. Hendrik privately. The Federal Council presented a statement to him, and one of the clauses stated the right of the Church to determine when, where, and to whom the Gospel should be proclaimed. After listening to the Minister’s point of view, the Council agreed to omit the word where. Another clause stated that it was the duty of the State, as the servant of God, to allow full freedom to the Church to execute its divine calling, but after discussion the word full was omitted. Dr. Hendrik persuaded the Council to drop certain clauses altogether, and you may be sure that the delegation found his arguments acceptable. They parted from the Minister with expressions of mutual regard. There was no acrimony, and no talk of defiance. It was a perfect example of harmony between State and Church, and it is a great pity that the English churches seem totally incapable of following it. I must tell you, my dear aunt, that I ponder with something like anguish over the fact that the English and the Afrikaner churches both claim to be Christian, and that they all declare that Christ is the Lord of the Church, yet disagree so completely on vital principles.
By the way, Dr. Fischer is going to add another degree to his impressive total. The university is going to confer on him an honorary LL.D. for his services to the church, the law, and the nation. This will put me in a strange position. I am the president of the Convocation, and it will be my duty to hood him and to shake his hand in congratulation. After that he will deliver the oration. The only way I could get out of it would be to go sick, and I really cannot do that.
I fear, my dear aunt, that I like him no better than ever I did. That he is upright, I have no doubt, but he is a hard, humourless man. My father was upright, and he was stern, but he was neither hard nor humourless. I suppose that Dr. Fischer will have to get a new piece of wood for his desk, because his degrees reach to the end already. He is endlessly ambitious, and I am sure that his goal is Parliament and finally the Cabinet. He is moving upwards in the Broederbond, and that makes his success a certainty. I tell you, and I would not tell anyone else, that I worry a good deal over the way I feel about him. I know it is not right.