The Cape and the Kaffirs: A Diary of Five Years' Residence in Kaffirland

The force selected for the engagement, consisted of a hundred and thirty of the Cape Mounted Riflemen, three hundred of a native levy, thirty or the 7th Dragoon Guards, and two hundred of the 73rd Regiment; there were also about eighty farmers: the native infantry were under the command of Captain Owen. When the dispositions for attack had been made, “the troops were formed into small divisions, and a point of attack assigned to each. During these operations, the General and Staff climbed the Table Mountain, to the top, and Colonel Somerset endeavoured to cross a ford on the river; but, being baffled in his design, joined the General. A number of cattle being descried in the bend of the Kei, Colonel Somerset, with his people, wound down a pass to reach them.” The Kaffirs stood their ground here unusually well, but the 73rd dashed at them in gallant style, and soon dislodged them, while the Provisionals, Captain Hogg’s levy, and the Cape Corps, pushed onwards for the cattle. Colonel Somerset was busy exchanging shots with the enemy at one of their drifts, Lieutenant Macdonald, C.M.R., having been the first, with his detachment, to commence the attack at the river.

Before the engagement the troops had marched thirty miles. No great loss was sustained on the British side, and a great many Kaffir guns were taken. “Colonel Somerset,” remarked the “Graham’s Town Journal,” “made an admirable disposition of the force under his command, and directed the whole movement with great skill. The General overlooked the whole affair, and is said to have expressed his satisfaction at the spirited and gallant manner in which the troops, and all who were engaged, behaved. The gallantry and activity of Colonel Somerset throughout the affair were conspicuous: directing, under the General, the whole of the operations below the mountain, he displayed the most perfect acquaintance with the habits of the enemy and the character of the country; he was to be seen at every point where danger presented itself, or direction was needed, and ably and zealously was he supported by every officer and engaged in one of the severest field-days ever experienced since the commencement of the present contest.”

At least thirty Kaffirs were counted dead after this action; some of them wearing the clothes of the deceased officers. Mr Faunt’s horse was captured in the fray, and poor Captain Baker’s charger galloped into the camp, still saddled, and bleeding from an assegai wound in its head.

Soon after this affair, Colonel Somerset succeeded in crossing the Kei, with the Cape Corps, and Captain Hogg’s levy, all in light marching order, with supplies for five days. As soon as this force was on the other side of the river, Páto came back. Captain O’Reilly was then detached, with some of the Cape Corps, to look for him, when he again doubled, and escaped with a quantity of Colonial cattle; only four hundred being captured in the course of these operations.

Umhala was suspected of sheltering Páto’s people and the cattle; and afterwards, when disturbed on his location by the operations of the troops, he had the insolence to remonstrate on the inconvenience he was put to by being thus suspected. Such fallacious reasoning did not influence Colonel Somerset’s plans. The craftiness of these Kaffirs is the most difficult thing possible to contend with. What, for instance, could be more cunning than Kreli’s reply, when accused of sheltering Páto? “Colonel Somerset’s commands,” he said, “had forced Páto over the Kei into his (the Amaponda) country, and so precipitately that the stolen Colonial cattle had got mixed up with Kreli’s in the pasture-ground. Now,” said Kreli, “this could not have been so, had Páto come hither with my permission, as, in that case, I should have separated my cattle from his.” He also begged to know on what authority the British Government had decided that he had sheltered Páto. He was told, in reply, that the information had been received from certain Kaffir prisoners, whose names, however, were unknown; whereupon his councillors answered, “You, Colonel Johnstone (27th), and the Governor, and Somerset, and Stockenstrom, and Kreli, are great men, and are you going to settle an important national question, upon the report of prisoners of whom you know nothing?” Certainly a Kaffir would puzzle Lord Brougham himself, by his plan of meeting cross questions with crooked answers.

Chapter XIX.

Arrival of Sir Harry Smith

On the 1st of December, 1847, Sir Harry and Lady Smith, with his Excellency’s staff and suite, landed at Cape Town, amid the acclamations and rejoicings of assembled thousands. I have already alluded to Lady Smith as “once the favourite of the African Frontier;” and, at a public assembly. Judge Menzies welcomed the arrival of the Governor and Lady Smith, by proposing a toast, not to “His Excellency and his Lady,” but to “Harry Smith and his Wife.” On all sides their return was hailed with joy; but, as the colonists are too apt to be guided by results rather than motives, it is better not to dwell on this reception.

Sir Henry Pottinger left Graham’s Town, under a salute of guns from the batteries, on the 16th of December, and Sir George Berkeley followed on the 17th. The great event of the day was the entrée of Sir Harry Smith. The shops were closed, every one made holiday, triumphal arches were erected, surmounted by inscriptions proclaiming welcome to the new Governor and old friend. The very bonhommie with which Sir Harry had met his old acquaintances—even an old Hottentot serjeant, with whom he shook hands on the road—procured for him a ready popularity ere he entered Graham’s Town.

At Sidbury, within thirty miles of the town, Sir Henry Pottinger and his successor had a short conference. There is no doubt the latter had brought his instructions from the Colonial Office with him; but the meeting between two such men, and the conference on the destinies of South Africa, at a scattered village on the borders, must have been connected with singular and interesting associations.

From Port Elizabeth to Graham’s Town one scene of joy and welcome presented itself. Soon after landing at the former place, his Excellency made his appearance before a throng of spectators, amongst whom he recognised the Chief Macomo. At sight of him, Sir Harry drew his sword half way from the scabbard, held it thus for a minute, and drove it back again with an expressive gesture of anger and scorn; at which Macomo shrank back, and the crowd laughed. His Excellency afterwards saw Macomo, whom he bitterly upbraided for his treachery, and derided for his folly. As he uttered his reproaches, he ordered him to kneel prostrate before him, which he did, unwillingly enough. “This,” said Sir Harry Smith, placing his foot on the neck of the conquered savage, “this is to teach you that I have come hither to teach Kaffirland that I am chief and master here, and this is the way I shall treat the enemies of the Queen of England.”

On the 17th, as we watched the rockets ascending, and the lights flashing from one end of Graham’s Town to the other, I could not help comparing the circumstances of last year with the present. Then all was gloom, save when the fires on the hill-tops telegraphed mischief between the Kaffirs. Now, beacons blazed, the silent heralds of glad tidings; the very Fingo kraals adjacent to the town sent forth shouts, and torches flitted from hut to hut. Amongst all this stir, there is something interesting in recording where Sir Harry Smith was, and how he was employed, during the rejoicings of the excited populace. Long before the lights were extinguished, he was up and at work. Three o’clock on the morning of the 16th found him at his desk, which he scarcely left till five in the evening. Amid all the din of these rejoicings for the hero of Aliwal, Colonel Somerset, having conquered the I’Slambies, and delivered Páto into his Excellency’s hands, quietly rode into town, unnoticed, but not forgotten by those who, eighteen months before, looked to him for protection and assistance. (See Appendix I.)

On his Excellency’s arrival at Government House, he sent for Sandilla, whom he addressed in severe terms. Sandilla, of course, admitted, in the old style, that he had been in error. On Sir Harry asking him who was now the “Inkosi Enkulu,” (Great Chief) of Kaffirland, he, after a pause, in true Kaffir style, and closely observed by his councillors, replied “Kreli.” At this Sir Harry broke forth, in terms of great anger. “No!” said the Governor, “I am your paramount chief—I am come to punish you for your misdoings—your treachery—and your obstinate folly. You may approach my foot and kiss it, in token of submission, but not until I see a sincere repentance for the past, will I permit you to touch my hand.”

Sandilla was released from confinement by Sir Harry’s order. Chieftainship, in a Kaffir sense, being abolished, and the ex-chiefs being invested with a sort of magisterial influence over their people, checked by British rule, a baton of office was sent to to be placed in the ground before his hut, side by side with the wand always planted there as a symbol of authority. His wand is surmounted by a cow’s tail, and marks the chief’s residence from the other huts of Kraal. The baton given by Sir Harry is a stick, with a brass knob at the top of it. A proclamation, dated the 17th of December, 1847, announced the Keiskama as the boundary of the Colony. The advantages of such a line of demarcation, I have before alluded to.

At noon, on the 20th, his Excellency was in the saddle, en route for King William’s Town, viâ Fort Hare and Post Victoria. He was accompanied by the heads of departments in general, and by his staff. At Fort Hare, the party was entertained at dinner by the officers of the 45th Regiment, and next day, proceeding to King William’s Town, breakfasted on the road in the Tyumie valley. At King William’s Town, Sir Harry had appointed a meeting of the Chiefs of Kaffirland, desiring them to obey him, or abide the consequences. They knew him too well to hesitate.

In the mean time, Páto, hearing that Colonel Somerset was again on the track in search of him, grew frightened; and, as this officer was en route with his force, the rebel savage sent his councillors, with an offer of five thousand head of cattle, and a promise of surrender, if his life might be spared.

It was on Sunday, the 19th of December, while Sir Harry Smith was yet in Graham’s Town, that the work of Colonel Somerset was, so to speak, brought to a close by the surrender of Páto.

While moving with his forces towards the Kei, and debating where he should “off-saddle” and bivouac, for a short refreshment, Colonel Somerset observed two Kaffirs riding at a rapid gallop towards him. These were two of Páto’s councillors, who looked tired and frightened beyond description, but they rode direct for Colonel Somerset; and, as soon as one of them could get breath, he spoke. He had been sent by his chief, he said, to make terms of surrender. “The tribe was broken up. Páto was hunted down, and could hold out no longer.” Colonel Somerset asked what guarantee he should have that Páto would keep his word: a word which had been broken so often? “I am Páto’s mouth,” said the messenger; “I speak his word, and now it is true. I have been told to ride and find Somerset, or die.”

Colonel Somerset refused to give any promise until Páto came forward personally, and surrendered at discretion. With this answer, the councillors departed. Old Cobus Congo, Páto’s brother, next made his appearance, and Colonel Somerset’s peremptory command to have the arms given up was followed by the approach of Kaffirs in all directions, hurrying down the hills, and emerging from the apparently uninhabited kloofs, with guns and assegais. The eminences, which had appeared untenanted by man, were now dotted with these wretched creatures; the silent krantzes gave up the warriors long concealed therein; and, two days afterwards, Páto, with twelve councillors, all haggard, dirty, and trembling with terror, approached the bivouac, and, in a state of the most abject misery, the treacherous savage surrendered himself. He had been “hunted from rock to rock,” he said, “for three months: he was no longer a man, but a baboon, for he had been dwelling among the monkeys; he had concealed himself where no cavalry could come, but the dreaded name of Somerset had stirred him from his hiding-place, and he now implored to be taken out of the bush.” He spoke of the miseries to which he and his people had been subjected; at times, they had not been able to kill an ox for food, and some of his followers had been compelled to eat their shields. (This was no more than our allies, the Fingoes, were frequently obliged to do.)

All his professions were in a tone of the deepest humility. In short, he had been hunted like a dog, as he deserved, and he was ready to submit to anything to be allowed to have the mountains near the Amapondas, and to “sit still,” at least, for a season.

Colonel Somerset was, of course, perfectly aware of the motives which directed this pacific movement on the part of Páto, who was quite ready to submit to any terms for the present. Cattle were demanded. Páto promised five thousand head down. More arms were asked for; the ease with which many guns and assegais had already been produced, was sufficient guarantee for the future. Colonel Somerset, however, held no responsible position as a diplomatist; during the whole war he had only been the fighting-man in Kaffirland. So, having beaten Sandilla, Páto, Umhala, Souto, Stock, etc, etc, and their tribes, he was to submit the rebel and his propositions to Sir Harry Smith, and his Excellency was to meet the Chiefs at King William’s Town, and hold a parley there on the 23rd of December, preparatory to the great meeting on the 7th January, 1848. This last assembly was fixed on that day as the anniversary of a solemn convocation of the kind, held on the 7th January, 1836.

The present Governor has, as Umhala would say, “ears that hear,” and “eyes that see,” and will not abuse or neglect the confidence reposed in him by the colonists. His Excellency’s decisive replies to the Chiefs when he met them at King William’s Town, and the clearness with which he impressed on their minds that they held their present position only by right of active allegiance on their parts towards the British Government, were the best guarantees of the manner in which he would carry out the plans as yet only in abeyance. “I am the Inkosi Enkulu (the Great Chief) of Kaffirland,” said he. “From me, as the representative of the Queen of England, you hold your lands. My word shall be your law, and whoso shall disobey it, him will I sweep from the land!”

Now, one great secret of Sir Harry Smith’s rule is, that the Kafirs know he will execute what he threatens. They are sure he will keep his word. As Páto knew Colonel Somerset would never rest till he found him and hunted him and his people down, so Gaikas and I’Slambies, Tambookies and Zooluhs, feel that Sir Harry Smith, too, will be “up and doing” among them, if they fail in their promises.

When Sir Benjamin D’Urban resigned the Government, in 1836, he took up his residence near Cape Town, and there, for ten long years, he sorrowfully abided the result of the system which had been introduced by his opponents. His friends thought that he ought to proceed to England, and there expose the mischiefs that were gathering round the Colony; but he “bided his time,” and it was not until the events of the war had proved the soundness of his former arguments, and that he had truly described the Kaffirs as “irreclaimable savages,” that he repaired to the Colonial Office in London. His statements had now their due weight, and the offices of Governor and Commander-in-Chief were again united in the person of Sir Harry Smith, whose opportune arrival in England from India was hailed with joy by the very party that had, in 1836, discarded the opinions and overthrown the policy of Sir Benjamin D’Urban and Sir Harry himself. His appointment to the Government of the Cape soon followed his triumphant reception at home as the hero of our Indian successes.

Chapter XX.

Conclusion

Enthusiastic as his English welcome had been on his return from India, his Excellency’s entrée into Graham’s Town, escorted by at least five hundred friends, independently of all military attendance, must have been deeply gratifying to him. How much more so must have been his sensations on the morning of the 23rd of December, 1647, when he galloped into the centre of the square formed by the garrison drawn up to receive him, “at the old place of meeting”—King William’s Town! The band of the Rifle Brigade received him with the National Anthem, and the cheers of the multitude formed a noble chorus; but, as the General rode down the line, the troops, presenting arms, the air changed to “See the Conquering Hero comes!” Shouts rose from the concourse, consisting of the military, the colonists, Kaffirs, Fingoes, and others of many different grades and denominations.

When these had subsided, Sir Harry Smith addressed the troops. His Excellency complimented Colonel Buller, of the Rifle Brigade, on the command of such a body of men, calling the attention of the latter to their advantage in having such a Commander; and having noticed “that bravery and endurance which they had displayed during the long and harassing warfare through which they had struggled,” he beckoned Colonel Somerset to his side, and thus addressed him:—

“To you, Colonel Somerset, we are mainly indebted for the satisfactory close of this severe contest. You have been in the field throughout, and have exhibited equal courage, patience, perseverance, and ability in the discharge of the severe duties which have devolved upon you. To an officer so nearly of my own rank, it is not for me to return my thanks. But I thank you in the name of Her Majesty the Queen, for your efficient services in this command; I thank you in the name of the eminently illustrious and immortal Duke of Wellington, the Commander-in-Chief of the British Army, for the manner in which you have prosecuted this war until you have brought it to a final issue.”

The scene at King William’s Town, at this period, was very imposing: the Kaffirs, in number at least two thousand, all unarmed, formed a semicircle of perhaps eight deep; in front of this semicircle stood the Chiefs, facing the General, Colonels Somerset, Buller, and Mackinnon, and Mr Shepstone, the Interpreter. In the rear of the latter were the troops, consisting of the Rifle Brigade, part of the 7th Dragoon Guards, and 73rd Regiment. His Excellency scanned the assembly before him with a searching look; and, as his eye rested on the line of Chiefs, he missed Sutu, and her son Sandilla, in a moment. Punctual himself, he was naturally angry at their absence, and demanded where they were?

Mother and son had retired from the great crowd to a little drift in a hollow. They were sent for, and obeyed the summons. The dense semicircular mass opened in the centre, and the lame Chief and Sutu entered the area. Some Kaffirs were disposed for a moment to press inward; but a low murmur went round, and those in front seated themselves the moment the young Gaika and his mother took their places at the head of the line of Chiefs. There was then a silence among the multitude, and the Governor addressed them, every word he uttered being carefully translated by Mr Shepstone.

Previously to his Excellency’s address, two large staves were brought forward, one was surmounted by a brass knob, the other was a Serjeant’s halbert. These Sir Harry Smith planted on each side of him as symbols of peace and war.

He opened his speech with bitter reproaches against the Kaffirs for their treachery and violence, upbraiding them for their faithlessness while he scorned them for their folly.

He told them the Queen of England had sent him to Africa to put a stop to their violence, and to organise the country over which they had so ruthlessly stalked as destroyers. Pointing to the staves, he called on them to advance, and to take their choice of peace or war. It mattered not to him, they might fight, but he would conquer them: he would be Chief. They had seen already how the troops of England could harass them; the grasp and vengeance of England could never be eluded. “You, Sutu,” said his Excellency, “I call upon you to come forward, and make your choice, by touching one staff or the other.”

Sutu advanced, and, placing her hand on the staff of peace, her example was followed by all the rest in succession. As Stock approached, his Excellency exclaimed, “Stock, son of Eno! is not your sleep disturbed by evil spirits, as a punishment for the contempt with which you treated your father’s last words?—And for you, Páto, Colonel Somerset has taken you out of the bush this time: you may thank him for your life; had I been there, you should have lost your head.”30

Páto’s appearance was miserable. He more resembled a Hottentot than a Kaffir, being of the Gona tribe, which is a mixture of both races. An old handkerchief was wound round his head, and his shrunken limbs were enveloped in a dirty blanket. Several times during Sir Harry Smith’s address, those peculiar murmurs of wonder, approbation, and assent, which I have elsewhere compared to the waves of a great ocean, rising and falling in the distance, went through the mighty circle. As the Governor took care to remind them occasionally that Chieftainship, in their sense of the term, was abolished, and declared, from that moment, he was the Great Inkosi Enkulu, and the representative of the Queen of England, an irrepressible groan burst forth from the Kaffirs; but none attempted to reply; all seemed paralysed by fear. Not even an assegai was to be seen in their hands—a most unusual circumstance among these savage tribes.

At the close of his stern address to the assembled Kaffirs, his Excellency read the Proclamation defining the conditions on which British Kaffraria is to be occupied for the future. Colonel Mackinnon was appointed to the command of the district. While reading this, he paused at several passages, giving the Chiefs an opportunity of ascertaining the exact meaning of what they heard; as he uttered the word “conquered,” in reference to the territory, his manner and tone were such as could not be misunderstood.

The Chiefs, declaring it was “good,” were ordered to advance separately, and to touch the staff of Peace or War, as pleased them best. There was no hesitation in deciding: the voice of Young Kaffirland had been silenced, and the Chiefs stepped forward one by one, kissing Sir Harry Smith’s foot as he sat on horseback, in token of their repentance for the past, and as a guarantee for future submission.

Not one of them approached the new Inkosi Enkulu, without eliciting some severe remarks. Threats were not spared, accompanied by significant gestures. “He would teach them,” he said, “who should henceforth be their masters; and, if they failed to obey his Word, he would sweep the disobedient from the land.” In short, he gave them to understand, in plain English, that they were a set of unworthy miscreants, who had forfeited all claim to indulgence; but who, upon a promise of future good behaviour, were to be mercifully tried once more, but not to be trusted. No! Sir Harry Smith knew them too well for that!

Words like these, from his lips, carried with them more weight than all the written documents the Colonial Office could send forth. As the Chiefs retired to their position, his Excellency, having possessed himself of a piece of paper for the purpose, held it up to the multitude as emblematic of the former Treaties; and, tearing it to pieces, scattered it to the winds, exclaiming with his accustomed energy, “There go the Treaties!” He next seized the staff of war, and, poising it for a few moments, cast it to the ground with great vehemence. “Behold,” said he, “the end of war! And now, three cheers for Peace!” Lifting his hat, he bade those beside him follow his example. The loud hurrahs ascended to the sky, sending their echoes along the banks of the Buffalo River. All united in the acclamations which the occasion called forth. From soldiers, spectators, and Kaffirs arose one simultaneous shout, and from kloof to kloof, from plain to plain, resounded the cheers which proclaimed “Peace on earth, and good will towards men!” two days before the great festival of Christmas.