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

“4. Should the applicant not become the purchaser, the amount deposited by him will be refunded when paid by the eventual purchaser; but should no sale take place, no refund can be made.

“5. Lands offered for sale will be advertised for two months in the ‘Government Gazette,’ at the expiration of which time they will be sold by public auction.

“6. Ten per cent of the purchase money must be paid at the time of sale, and the balance, (with the expenses of the survey, if the purchaser did not make the deposit), within one calendar month from the day of sale: in default of which, the ten per cent so paid, will be forfeited to the Colonial Treasury.

“7. Persons desirous of acquiring Crown lands at the Cape of Natal, will be at liberty to make deposits at the Bank of England to the credit of the Colonial Land and Emigration Commissioners, upon the same conditions, and with the like privileges as are prescribed in the case of the Australian colonies2, with this exception, that for every hundred pound so paid in, the depositor will be allowed to name for a free passage to the colony seven, instead of five properly qualified emigrants.

“Officers of the Army and Navy, whether on full or half pay, who may wish to settle at the Cape of Good Hope, are allowed a remission of the purchase money varying from 600 pounds to 200 pounds according to their rank and length of service.

“Military chaplains, commissariat officers, and officers of any of the civil departments of the army; pursers, chaplains, midshipmen, warrant officers of every description, and officers of any of the civil departments of the navy, are not allowed any privileges in respect of land. Although members of these classes may have been admitted formerly, and under different circumstances, they are now excluded. Mates in the royal navy rank with ensigns in the army, and mates of three years standing with lieutenants in the army, and are entitled respectively to corresponding privileges in the acquisition of lands.”

Chapter III.

History of the Cape Colony

The renowned promontory of the Cape was first doubled by the Portuguese navigator, Bartholomew Diaz, in the year 1487, but the discovery was not looked on as of any other importance than as opening the maritime route to India which that nation had so long sought after. Ten years later De Gama passed along the southern and eastern coast of Africa, and coming in sight of a fertile, pleasant country on Christmas day, he gave it the name of the Land of the Nativity, (Terra Natal) whence the appellation by which it is now known. In 1620, two of the officers of the English Merchant Adventurers landed in Saldanha Bay, and took formal possession of the country, in the name of James the First, but no European, settlement was attempted until the year 1650, when the Dutch India Company, at the recommendation of a surgeon of one of their ships, named Van Riebeck, placed a colony on the shore of Table Bay, further southward, for the purpose of affording supplies to their fleets.

Though the colony was at first composed, as was usual in those days, of persons of abandoned character, it grew and prospered, and in the course of about thirty years it received an accession of population of admirable character in the persons of French and German Protestant refugees, whom the atrocious proceedings of Louis the Fourteenth, in revoking the Edict of Nantes, and ravaging the Palatinate with fire and sword, had rendered homeless. These estimable exiles introduced the culture of the vine and other improvements, and the colony gradually spread itself along the belt of level land which extends itself eastward between the Lange Kloof and the sea.

About the same time Natal was visited by order of the Governor, and some idea was entertained of forming a settlement there, but, for some reason not now known, the project was abandoned.

The Dutch continued in peaceable possession of the colony for more than one hundred years longer, and had gradually spread themselves either as settlers or elephant hunters almost to the borders of the Orange River, when in 1795, a small English force, under General Craig and Sir Alured Clarke appeared, and the whole territory was at once surrendered. At the peace of Amiens, in 1802, it was restored to Holland; but in 1806 it again came into the hands of England, and was finally ceded to us in 1814.3

From the period of our establishment in the colony in 1806 till 1827 (with the exception of a change in the currency very displeasing to the Dutch), we were contented to stand by the laws by which it had been governed, with only such occasional amendments and modifications as the change of circumstances required. In that year, however, after three or four years’ notice and consideration, a code of English laws (not exactly the laws of England) was adopted. As, from their non-acquaintance with our language, it was impossible to make the Dutch thoroughly conversant with the principles upon which these laws were framed, they soon became discontented. The clerks in the public offices, to whom they applied occasionally for information, were unable to give their time to listen to their grievances; and, had they been inclined to enlighten them, their ignorance of the Dutch language rendered it impracticable. Previously to this, every district had been governed by a magistrate, or Landrost. He had to assist him a council of eight individuals, called Hemraaden, chosen from among the most respectable and influential landholders, who informed the inhabitants of all events and changes occurring in the colony and its laws, explained all difficulties, heard all complaints, and were, in short, the medium of communication between the people and the authorities. The English Laws completely superseded these arrangements, and the utter want of education among the Dutch, particularly the scattered farmers, rendered them jealous and suspicious of their new legislators, whose system (practically or theoretically) they could not understand.

It is true that the bad condition, and, in many cases, the ill-usage of the Hottentots, called for investigation and amendment; but many attempts that were made to ameliorate their condition proved vain, from being as defective as they were ill-executed. General Bourke passed an ordinance, freeing the Hottentot race from all those restraints which are found absolutely necessary for the preservation of social order in all civilised communities. The consequence of this ill-advised decree is manifested to this day, for it is the cause of the gradual self-extermination (so to speak) of the race. The mischief, however, was done, and as a remedy the location of a number of them as an agricultural community on the Kit River was tried. A few respectable individuals are still to be found among them there, and in some other localities, but these are a mixed race, and it may be said that the original Hottentot race has been gradually but surely dwindling away since the enactment of the above-mentioned 50th Ordnance.

Just as matters stood a chance of finding their level, the farmer beginning to try to accustom himself to bear the inconveniences arising from the Hottentot’s freedom from all restraint, and consequent contempt of servitude (for on the enactment of the 50th Ordinance they had taken to a life of vagrancy, spurning all work), the Kaffirs sounded their war-cry, and burst upon the colony. This was in 1834. It arose thus.

From the depredations and encroachments of the Kaffirs on the Hottentot location in the Kat River settlement, the authorities ordered the expulsion of the Kaffir chief, Charlie, (so called by the express desire of his father, Gaika, after Lord Charles Somerset), from a portion of the neutral territory4 which he had been allowed to occupy on sufferance during good behaviour. This indulgence he had clearly forfeited, the depredations being almost invariably traced to his locality. Though, on solemn promise of amendment, he had been subsequently permitted to resume his position, yet, from the natural ingratitude of his race, and the pains taken by his soi-disant and injudicious European friends to persuade him how ill he had been treated by his original expulsion,—after a few months of smothered ill-will, the volcano burst, and these savages poured, en masse, into the colony; fire, devastation, and the murderous blade marking their progress throughout this astonished, peaceable, and, with trifling exceptions, unprotected frontier, to the ruin of thousands—a ruin from which many have never recovered, notwithstanding the strenuous exertions of their best friend, Sir Benjamin D’Urban. Under his able governments—crippled as it was by a change in the Ministry—the colony, after the war, resumed the appearance and probability of peace, when another great event altered the face of everything. Suddenly there was a voice, which went through all the countries of the known earth, crying aloud, “Let the slave be free!”

The Dutch were quite ready to listen to the voice that cried shame at the idea of seizing our fellow-creatures, packing them like herrings in slave-ships, and bartering for them in the market. Every one of good feeling revolted at the custom, and looked for the remedy. But how to set about the remedy should have been considered. The chain was broken, and the people of England hurrahed to their heart’s content. And the slave! What, in the meanwhile, became of him? If he was young and vicious, away he went—he was his own master. He was at liberty to walk to and fro upon the earth, “seeking whom he might devour.” He was free—he had the world before him where to choose, though, squatted beside the Kaffir’s fire, probably thinking his meal of parched corn but poor stuff after the palatable dishes he had been permitted to cook for himself in the Boer’s, or tradesman’s kitchen. But he was fain to like it—he could get nothing else, and this was earned at the expense of his own soul; for it was given him as an inducement to teach the Kaffir the easiest mode of plundering his ancient master. If inclined to work, he had no certain prospect of employment, and the Dutch, losing so much by the sudden Emancipation Act, resolved on working for themselves. So the virtuous redeemed slave had too many temptations to remain virtuous. He was hungry—so was his wife—so were his children; and he must feed them. How? No matter.

And the aged slave! He sat himself down on the hearth to which he had been accustomed, but he had no longer a right to the shelter of the roof-tree under which he had lived and his children had been born. He, too, must beg for food; but he was so old he could hardly crawl. He grew sick; there was none to take care of him but the charitable; and, fortunately for the poor, the aged, and the sick, there was charity in the land. Of what availed the slave’s freedom, under such circumstances? Still, some were harmless. It was the vicious negro who rejoiced in his freedom, and taught the Kaffir how best to rob and murder, till most probably the Kaffir murdered him, or made him toil harder than he had ever done under the Boer.

Then, the Dutch grumbled not so much at the emancipation, as at the manner of it. Even when they were willing to hire those who had been their slaves, they hesitated to receive as servants those over whom the law gave no control. As an indemnification for the loss of their slaves, the owners obtained, on the average, about one-third of the value of them. From their not being paid their compensation-money in the colony, but being obliged to draw it from England, their loss by agencies and misunderstanding was very great.

The discontented Dutch, who had been gradually irritated by these proceedings, now began to migrate with their families over various branches of the Orange River, to the north-east of the colony. They were forbidden to take their apprentices with them; but in many instances they disregarded this order, and parties of military being sent after them, to bring the apprentices back to the colony, this measure increased the feelings of resentment already excited in the minds of the Dutch towards the English, and the commanders of such military parties ran imminent risks of their lives in the execution of these duties. Having established themselves in various localities beyond the north-eastern boundary, and having no legal executive among themselves, the Boers occasionally returned to the colony when any appeal to justice was required; but, by degrees, the stream of emigration having set steadily outwards, it swelled to such an extent that it called for more room in its progress, and, spreading itself beyond the limits of British jurisdiction or restraint, at length reached Natal. The most determined emigrants came to a resolution to establish for themselves, in the neighbourhood of that port, a colony totally independent of British rule, and regulated by their own laws. Meanwhile the Kaffir war had been, by the energy and decision of Sir Benjamin D’Urban and Colonel Smith (now Sir Harry Smith, the hero of Aliwal, and the Governor of the Cape), brought to an end. The aggressors were driven from the colony, and also from a neighbouring district between the Keiskama and the Kei, which was erected into a province called Adelaide, and stringent measures taken to prevent their again bursting into the colony. But these measures were disapproved of by Lord Glenelg, then the Colonial Secretary, the new district was abandoned, Sir Benjamin D’Urban resigned, and, under the auspices of Sir Andries Stockenstrom, the Lieutenant-Governor of the eastern province, new treaties, since known by his name, were formed, which public opinion in Africa almost universally condemns as the real cause of the late deplorable warfare. Since then, the policy that framed them has been abandoned, and the statesmanlike views of Sir Benjamin are at the present day being carried out by his former coadjutor, Sir Harry Smith.

About the year 1841 the settlement of the emigrant Boers had attained something like the appearance of a regular state. They had, partly by force and partly by purchase, obtained possession of a considerable tract of country, and had founded a town, which they called Pietermaritzburg, and after some correspondence with the Government at the Cape, they declared themselves independent. On this a small British force was despatched to Port Natal, but it was unable to effect anything against them until the arrival of reinforcements, when the Boers promised submission to the Queen’s authority; but soon after they began again to move onward, under their general, Pretorius, and it was not until Sir Harry Smith came among them, at the close of the Kaffir war, that they could be considered as fully under the control of the British Government. Even up to the present time their position with regard to it is anything but satisfactory, as the following extract from a letter recently received from the Cape (September 14, 1850), will show:—“Matters have looked a little portentous over the Orange River. The Boers, far beyond Bloem Fontein, under Pretorius, are determined that no one shall pass through their territory to the newly-discovered lake (Lake Ngami), and have already fined some severely. The lake will be easy of access down the Limpopo (river), which runs through the Boers’ country into it, as is believed; all other ways, as far as is known, are through deserts, and the ignorant people (Boers) will not suffer the missionaries to teach the natives about them. It would be unsafe to send any expedition under seven hundred men there, as Pretorius is more than 250 miles beyond any military station.”

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;5 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.”

“And you are sure,” continued the Kaffir, “that man is very wicked, and God alone is good?”

“Quite sure,” replied the missionary.

“And there have been thousands—millions of men, and many, many countries far away and beyond the waters,” pursued the savage, “full of sin, who cannot be saved, except they love and fear God, and believe in him and in all these mysteries which none of us can understand, and which you yourself even cannot explain?”

“It is but too true,” said the missionary.

“And there is but one God?” pursued the Kaffir, in a tone of inquiry.

“But one God,” was the solemn answer.

The savage pondered some minutes, and then observed, “What proof have you that God is right, and men are wrong? Has no one ever doubted that One being wise and the other being weak and sinful? How strange that the word of your One God should be allowed to weigh against the will and inclination of the whole world! Your cause is hardly a good one, when hundreds and millions are opposed in deed and opinion to one! I must consider your arguments on Christianity well before I decide on adopting your creed.”

Another remark of one of these natural logicians equally illustrates their determination not to be persuaded to anything without having their own reasons for it. Wherever their inclination leads them, they possess such an art of defending themselves as would be an invaluable addition to the talents of a special pleader in a criminal court. One Kaffir who had become a Christian, at least apparently so (for I doubt the decided conversion of any, except the Chief, Kama)—was striving, for reasons of his own, to bring others to the creed he had adopted. After much argument, one, who grew tired of it, closed it by observing that “since such punishments were in reserve for those who neglected the laws of the Master whom they engaged to serve, he preferred enjoying the world as much as he could while living, rather than becoming a subject of one whose laws were irksome, and whose punishments were so terrible.”

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.