Matabele Land and the Victoria Falls. A naturalist's wanderings in the interior of South Africa. From the letters and journals of the late Frank Oates, F.R.G.S. Edited by C. G. Oates. (Memoir.)

Preface

. In offering to the public the following pages, I feel, as editor, that I owe a few words of apology and explanation to the reader by way of preface — apology for the imperfections of the volume ; ex planation how such imperfections have arisen. The traveller whose journey to the Zambesi is here recounted died of fever a few days after he had left that river on his way homewards, and the book has been compiled from his note-books, and letters home. The latter were written with no view of publication ; the former were intended only for the writer's own subsequent use and as suggestive guides to memory. It is always a question in such a case how far the surviving friends of the deceased writer or traveller do well in publishing the unfinished labour of his pen. What his own wish would have been cannot be known, or even guessed at, unless specially expressed ; and the reflection forcibly presents itself to the mind that perhaps a certain injustice may be

PREFACE.

. VI done to the memory of the dead by publishing, in a form which may fairly challenge the criticism of the general reader, a few hasty jottings by the wayside, written under circumstances the least favourable to literary composition, and a limited number of letters home, meant merely for the perusal of the writer's nearest and most indulgent friends. On the other hand, however, it must be borne in mind that, much as must inevitably be lost in editing pages such as these for want of the inspiring touch which the writer himself could alone have finally given them, there will probably be a directness and freshness of the expressions which a traveller makes use of on the spot, hampered as he then is by no oppressive consciousness that he is addressing that imaginary "public" — consisting after all but of a number of individuals like himself, all with the same human heart and interests, — which might be wanting in his more matured work.

Guided, then, by the latter consideration, and by the reflection that every day the number of our countrymen is increasing who look to South Africa with a growing interest — whether as a land for colonization, exploration, or scientific research, — I venture to add another to the long list of already published books upon that country, hoping that the reader may find therein matter of some general interest, and that, if not, he will look leniently on

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. VII the error of judgment which has led me, together with those who have here shared my responsibility, to offer for his perusal pages prepared at first mainly for private friends, but which it was afterwards thought might possibly prove of interest to a somewhat wider circle. Further, with reference to the length of time which has elapsed between the date of the writer's death and the publication of this volume, I can only claim in extenuation of this circumstance the fact that a considerable period necessarily intervened before the traveller's journals and papers reached this country, that they required on their arrival much care in their disposal, and that the whole of the natural history collections had to be gone through systematically before being finally placed in competent hands for arrangement and classification.

The delay, then, has enabled me to include in the volume the papers in the appendix on the latter subject, contributed by such able hands, which I believe will add interest to the whole ; and that not only in the case of scientific readers, but of all those who would realize in a measure what it is which makes up the life and experiences of the naturalist traveller in his wanderings in distant lands. I may add, moreover, that the general state and condition of the country of which these pages treat would appear, from the accounts of those who have recently

PREFACE.

. VIII visited it, to remain substantially the same, or only changed in points of minor interest. The aban donment, however, of the Tati Gold-mine and the establishment of Kama in the Bamangwato sovereignty perhaps demand attention In editing this work it has been my object to preserve, wherever possible, the writer's narrative in exactly his own words ; and this plan has been steadily adhered to throughout, those passages only being omitted which appeared little likely to interest the general reader, or in which — as several times occurred — old ground was re-tra versed. In such cases the intervening periods have been bridged over by a short narrative of my own, intended merely to connect the story and weld the whole together. The maps, it may be added, are all of them the result of the traveller's own special observations, recorded as he went along.

Of the illustrations in the body of the work, I may remark that they are all from original drawings taken on the spot, or from the objects they purport to represent. Some are from sketches by the late Frank Oates ; the remainder — and these the larger number — from those of his brother, W. E. Oates, who accompanied him during a portion of his journey. It may therefore perhaps be fairly claimed for them that, whatever their artistic

PREFACE.

. IX merits, these drawings are — what alone they claim to be— faithful representations of the scenes and objects they depict. In the "List of Illus trations" it will be found to which of the two brothers each drawing may be respectively at tributed. And now there only remains to me the pleasing duty of returning my warmest thanks to the many friends who have helped me with my task. To those eentlemen who have contributed the valuable papers which form the appendix to this volume, my thanks are especially due ; I refer to Professors Rolleston, Westwood, and Oliver, Dr. Albert Giin ther, Mr. R. Bowdler Sharpe, and Mr. J. G. Baker. And in this connexion I have also to thank Captain G. E. Shelley, who named the majority of the birds in my late brother's collection before they passed into the hands of Mr. Sharpe, to be permanently de posited in the British Museum.

From all of these, and especially from Mr. Sharpe, I have received, besides, much friendly help and advice with reference to the general arrangements of the volume, as I have proceeded with my labours ; as well, also, as from Mr. H. W. Bates, the able Assistant Secretary of the Royal Geographical Society, to whose kindness I am deeply indebted for many valuable suggestions and much practical assistance. The four beautiful plates which accompany Professor X

PREFACE.

. Westwood's paper have been drawn by his own hand to illustrate his descriptions of new or re markable insects. Of those Q-entlemen, moreover, who have contributed their professional assistance, I must also in common gratitude add a word. Mr. Francis Holl has bestowed much pains on the production of a portrait of my late brother, from a photograph by Gowland of York, which I believe to be very successful ; Mr. Kaufmann's chromo - lithographs are the result of much careful effort on his part to catch the spirit and preserve the effect of the original water-colour drawings from which they have been taken ; the lithographs in the appendix, drawn respectively by Messrs. J. G. Keulemans, R. M intern, W. H. Fitch, and (as already mentioned) Professor Westwood, have been accurately rendered by the skilful hands of Messrs. M. and N. Hanhart, and Messrs. Mintern Brothers ; and the wood -engravings have been skilfully and conscientiously executed by Messrs. G. Pearson, J. D. Cooper, and E. Evans, all of them with a faithful determination to do the fullest justice to their respective subjects, and I believe with admirable result.

The birds and animals have been placed on wood chiefly by Mr. Smit, and some by Mr. Davenport ; whilst Mr. Charles Whymper has contributed two original drawings of the author's dogs and the

PREFACE.

. XI designs upon the cover. Mr. Edward Weller also and his son have spared no pains to make the maps which accompany the volume as perfect and complete as possible ; to whom, as well as to all the others named, my grateful thanks are due, and most heartily do I acknowledge what I owe them. To enumerate more fully the names of those who have further assisted me, either professionally or as private friends, I must now forbear from under taking ; suffice it to say there are many, especially of the latter class, without whose assistance and encouragement I should probably never have succeeded in bringing my labours to a close. Let me thank them now for the generous help and sym pathy so ungrudgingly given, and which, alas, it is so impossible for me to recompense. It may be proper to add, before concluding — what I have failed elsewhere to mention — that a considerable number of specimens in my brother's collection were destroyed at Shoshong in his life time by the unroofing, during a gale, of the hut where they were stored, and that some of the spirit jars of reptiles and beetles were afterwards left behind when the collections were conveyed to England ; circumstances which led in all probability to the loss of many valuable specimens. There are not many who will need to be re-

PREFACE.

. minded that to "inspan" and " outspan," words of frequent occurrence in the traveller's journal, mean, in South African parlance, to " yoke " and " unyoke," and that "spoor" means "footprints" or "track. All other words of Dutch or native origin intro duced into the text are explained, I believe, where they occur. The accent in the word " Matabele " falls, it may be added, on the third of its four syllables. My task is ended — in many respects a very mournful, yet a very pleasing one ; and if there be found but a few readers who derive either pleasure or profit from a perusal of these pages, I shall feel amply rewarded for my trouble. C. G. O. May 1881. MEMOIR. " To be able to give one's name to a bird, or a flower, may seem to many but a poor ambition ; and yet, materially considered, it is quite as likely to be perpetuated as to give it to a street or town, and is much more likely to define the tastes and individuality of the giver." — Bret Harte.

The saying has seldom been truer of any one than of the writer of the succeeding pages, that "the child is father of the man." His love of nature generally, and of natural history in all its branches, was one of Frank Oates's earliest instincts ; and to the study of our English wild-birds — their ways and haunts, their comings and their goings — he was especially devoted from boyhood. The pages of Waterton and Buffon, treating of wider fields of study, supplied his imagination at that period with richer food ; and the plates of Audubon's Birds, when access could be had to them, were turned by him with feelings little short of reverence. From his earliest days he had resolved to visit those distant, and, to him, still mysterious lands, where the page of nature was yet to the white man in great part an unread book ; and those who, after MEAIOIR.

XIV his death in the full prime of manhood, witnessed the arrival at his English home of his large collections of natural history specimens, brought from the interior of South Africa by the devoted service of a friend, realized strangely how the boy's ambition had been fulfilled in after life, and felt that, though cut off in the very perfection of his powers, the purpose of his being had not wholly failed. Those even who knew him best were surprised indeed, when these evidences of his work abroad arrived, to see how much he had accomplished in the brief period — a little short of two years — of his absence. As, one after another, the packing-cases were opened, each in its turn afforded to the looker-on some fresh illustration of the untiring determination of the deceased traveller to make the very utmost of his opportunities whilst abroad.

The voice that could alone have told the story of those collections, the hand that had brought them thus together, were silent and still in a far distant grave ; but an utter ance — the more pathetic because it was inaudible — seemed to go forth, unbidden, from those speechless records of devoted work and enterprise, and tell the secret tale of a life in earnest sympathy with nature curtailed, — the hand, as it were, yet warm from its labours. There, on the one hand, lay the opened cases of rare and brilliant bird-skins, each specimen with its MEMOIR. XV separate label, in the collector's writing, carefully recording its habitat, and other particulars useful to the student, accompanied in many instances by examples of nests and eggs. There, on the other hand, were lesser boxes, filled with varied specimens of insects, some from those very Victoria Falls of the Zambesi, the rich and almost untried harvest -ground of the naturalist, whose attractions had lured the wanderer to his untimely grave.

And there, again, were those large wide -necked bottles, familiar to the collector, containing, some of them, strange-looking beetles, others still stranger reptiles; there the packets of botanical drying paper, each sheet enveloping its floral treasure. Turning again to other cases, were found in numbers the singular implements of savage warfare, or industry, and with them many of those rude yet tasteful attempts at ornamentation suggested by native fancy ; evidences — the whole of them— of that untutored skill and delicate refinement of workmanship which charac terize many of the finer races of unlettered savages. Whilst further, the mighty tusks of the huge African elephant, the skins of the lion, the leopard, and the cheetah, — for it was these beasts of prey that the traveller had especially loved to hunt, — besides those of many an African antelope, with horns and heads of equal grace and beauty, told silently of stirring adventures in the bush.

Lastly, but yet not AIEAIOIR. XVI least, were those scientific instruments he had used in taking observations of his journey with so much faithful perseverance ; the note-books ; the letters of friends (some of these unopened, containing those trifling items of home news, so sweet to the far-off traveller, which his eyes had never seen, for they had arrived after his decease) ; the pencilled outlines of the country's scenery ; the water-colour drawings of those fatal Falls ; how much did not these records breathe to the silent bystander, how much suggest of what had been, and still more what might have been ! Poor fellow ! not there himself to speak to us, those records of an earnest life, those cared-for and well-worn letters which he had received and treasured, how far more eloquent they were to us than any words could have been !

They told us all, more than all, than any words which he could, or at least would, have spoken — so lightly did he ever treat his own achievements — and seemed to leave the world and ourselves poorer and yet richer by his death ! But the subject has led me, in my capacity of editor of these pages, beyond the proper limits of my duties, and I must crave the indulgence of the reader for this long digression. My object is merely to relate, as briefly as I can, such simple facts of Frank Oates's earlier life as may serve to illustrate the scope and bearing of the ensuing pages, and MEMOIR. XVII bring to view the motives which led him to enter on his life of travel. What I have said, indeed, may perhaps, it is true, help to show — what I was anxious early to point out — how very catholic were the interests of the deceased, how great the hold each separate department of the world's life, and history, and daily growth, had laid upon him.

Devoted to the study of natural history, as I have already pointed out, and especially to that of birds — the pursuit of which might be called his ruling passion — yet never did he close his eyes to all those varied interests of other kinds, which were constantly opening round him in his life of foreign travel. "He was not" indeed, as has lately been said of the young French naturalist Jacquemont, who, like Frank Oates himself, died early and in harness, — "He was not at all one of those specialists who shut themselves up in a narrow speciality, and become blind and deaf to the great interests of human life."1 Rather may it be said of him, that his interests were perhaps too wide, and that he overtaxed his strength and powers in following the promptings of his nature. Speaking indeed in homely phraseology, whilst out in Africa, he admitted himself that he had " too many irons in the fire," and some of the difficulties and vexations which beset him upon his journey must be attributed Mr. P. G. Hamerton, Lives of Modern Frenchmen, p. 95. c AIEAIOIR- XVIII to the delays which were occasioned by his desire of embracing every opportunity which presented itself, not only of adding a new specimen to his collection, but also of noting any fresh fact with regard to the country and its inhabitants which came before his notice.

For, in addition to his natural history pursuits, he was, as above intimated, engaged on this journey in taking observations of the country which he passed through, and laying down his route, and also, wherever possible, in seeking intercourse with the natives, and gaining knowledge of their character. This same tendency of his — to attempt too much — had once before also served him in evil stead when at the University in earlier life. Born on the 6th of April 1840, a son of the late Mr. Edward Oates, of Meanwoodside, near Leeds — himself a lover of nature, and a man of literary tastes — Frank Oates entered at Christ Church, Oxford, at the close of 1860. And here his love of nature and her teachings soon displayed itself by his choice of reading for a class in the Natural Science Schools. His work, however, in this direction did not keep him from study in many other departments of knowledge ; and, besides his studies, all out-door pursuits had each their respect ive fascination for him.

Of these, riding held with him, as it had always done, the foremost place ; and when the time of year or incidental circumstances AIEAIOIR. XIX kept him from an occasional gallop with the hounds, he would have a long day's ride into the country instead, drinking in, the while, deep draughts of enjoyment from the scenes he passed through. One such ride, still showing him faithful to his love of birds, he describes himself in a letter to one of his brothers on May Day, 1864, as follows : — "I had a jolly ride," he writes, "to Wychwood Forest a few days ago, with S of Wadham. We both enjoyed it, as we both entered into the loveliness of the scene. Unfortunately the day was cold, and few birds were seen, though we did hear the nightingale once, and the cuckoo once or twice. We were riding about the forest in the dark, with some prospect of being lost, and did not get back to Oxford till eleven o'clock, having ridden about thirty-six miles."

The exhilaration of these long rides was almost a necessity to him, counteracting, as they did in a measure, the strain of mental work. He also loved bathing, swimming, and sailing, the first two of which Oxford supplied him with in liberal measure, whilst even the last-named he found occasional opportunity of indulging his taste for on the Isis. Then there were cricket and rowing, to both of which he gave a share of his attention, with rifle shooting at the butts, and fencing at the gymnasium. This is a tolerable list of occupations, in addition MEMOIR- XX to which Oxford had also its social attractions for him ; for, besides the undergraduates of his own standing whom he knew, he was further privileged with the acquaintance of a few such men as the present Dean of Westminster— then Regius Pro fessor of Ecclesiastical History in the University — the present distinguished Master of Balliol, the late Sir Benjamin Brodie, and Professor Henry Smith ; whilst the nature of his studies brought him into frequent pleasant intercourse with Professor Rolleston and others at the museum.

The second year of his residence he sustained a loss, which he long felt, in the death of his young tutor, Mr. G. R. Luke, Senior Student of Christ Church, to whom he had formed no slight attachment. Of this event, rendered doubly sad by the circumstances under which it occurred, he wrote to a friend the day afterwards (March 4, 1862) as follows : — " Oxford," he says, " has just lost one of its brightest lights, and I a valuable friend, whom, I fear, I did not sufficiently appreciate in his lifetime — poor Luke ! It would be too much to say that there was not so good, but I can confidently assert that I do not think there was a better, man in Oxford. He was such a genuine, worthy, and conscientious fellow as is rarely met with ; and his kindness was equalled by his noble spirit — his modesty by his high learning and abilities.

And this MEMOIR. XXI valuable life, difficult as it is to realize it, has been cut short; — Luke was drowned in the river yesterday, having gone alone, quite contrary to his custom, in a whiff. It seems that he was near half an hour in the water, and dead when taken out. This sad accident, coming so suddenly, must throw a damp over the feelings of many ; and if there is any gratitude amongst men, there must have been many a sigh for him last night. I heard the news before six o'clock, and it had reached Christ Church some time before, the accident having happened about four. You may imagine my horror when, on entering my rooms to put on my cap and gown for hall, I was met by my scout, and asked if I had heard that Mr. Luke was drowned. In an hour or two I should have been reading with him."

And now enough may have perhaps been said to Ssive some insig-ht into Frank Oates's life at Oxford, and with one more quotation from his letters, this period of his history shall be closed. His first year at college an attack upon his chest in early spring had prevented his residence during the summer term at the University, and led to his spending as much of the succeeding winter as the Oxford terms admitted of in Italy, where he gathered many pleasant reminiscences. The following spring, too, he was late in coming up, owing to a return of his ailment during the Easter vacation, MEAIOIR. XXII when he was again a prisoner to his room at home. Writing on April 23d (1862), during this period of confinement, he says, "I see the tree-tops tipped with ereen, and hear the thrush's voice, telling me of old times, and asking me why I keep house, and I've no doubt spring is here.

So I want to be out again, and to greet her as an old friend." And presently he was out again, revelling in the spring sunshine with his friends, the birds. But this is not the intended quotation. Sufficiently recovered from this illness for the journey back to Oxford, he returned there on May 9th to find the place "shaded with its great green trees, and with its gray old walls looking almost joyous." It was not, however, till two evenings later that he " came in for the full benefit of the May aspect of things," as he describes it, when he took a long ramble into the country to Wytham, and first saw the rich pastoral country which surrounds Oxford in its summer dress. His account of this walk, written (again to the same friend) on May 12th, tells forcibly of his appreciation of all country sights and sounds.

Your letter arrived yesterday morning, he says, "and of course my evening was at once laid out for me, and now I come to what I ought to have begun with — my ramble of last night. You perhaps thought, as it grew dusk, that I was still MEAIOIR. XXIII lingering about the scene you describe ; and so I was. It was with really joyous feelings that I set out at six o'clock, and trudged along the Seven bridge Road. It was Sunday evening, and the road was crowded with Oxford folks and the militia. The floods which surrounded the road seemed an object of interest to them, but I pushed on, bestowing a hurried glance now and then at the tufted willows, and islands, and shores of long grass, which dotted over and surrounded the lake like fields, with the dappled sky reflected on their watery surface. Botley reached, I inquired the way to Wytham.

A shady green lane was pointed out to me, and I was soon away in thought, all alone in that quiet place ; and so on I strolled, through the fields, past the wood, through the village, and, as night closed in, back again. If I were a word-painter I might describe my walk ; but not being one, .should any attempt of mine thereat be intelligible to you, it will only be because you know what I would describe, and can realize my feelings. " There had been some little rain, and it was still rather dull and damp when I set out; but I should have gone if it had been worse, and really the evening ended almost brightly. I enjoyed the freshness of everything, and the wild-birds seemed to enjoy it ; they did not appreciate it as I did, but MEMOIR. XXIV they enjoyed it more. The notes of many a songster rang out from the thick cover of the wood on my left, and amongst the well-known notes some strange music was mixed, now and then becoming louder and more distinct.

These must have been the wonderful soft strains of the nightingale. The woodpeckers were laughing wildly, and the rooks returning to the tops of the elms, and talking as is their wont ; the youngsters responding eagerly, and seeming as if they were chatteringand being; fed at the same time. The cows were placidly grouped about the hedges, or wandering leisurely to and fro, favouring the passer by with a whiff of their scented breath. On the other side, flooded fields were rich in the most luxuriant vegetation ; whilst continually, and, as it grew later, more continually, the cuckoos answered one another from many a deep shade. I was glad to think that you would be thinking me there, and hoped you would not fancy that I should give up the excursion." Nor, passing now from reminiscences of his Oxford life, was his love of the country and its associations, here sufficiently evinced, confined to one particular sort of scenery ; and the wild moor lands of his native county attracted him as strongly as the quiet and peaceful beauties of Oxfordshire, or even more so.

During the Easter vacation of MEMOIR. XXV 1864 he had been on a short walking tour into the Yorkshire dales with one of his brothers and some other friends. " There is always a sense of freedom," he writes from near Leeds soon afterwards, " in getting away to the moors and mountains which surround us, and lie so near that they seem to invite Leeds men to visit them. For though the river at Kirkstall is sadly changed from the stream that leaves Malham Tarn, and the mountain air has lost somewhat of its freshness when it sweeps over this place, the sight and sound of railways are a constant reminder that a few minutes' consignment to the train, and the payment of a few shillings, are sufficient charm to place one in the world of nature. May those moors and valleys long continue desolate, if desola tion may be understood to mean no presence but that of the spirit of nature.

I care not what that spirit may be, but I feel a breathing life and an unsurpassable harmony, where man has not utterly defiled the face of the country. What I long for," he concludes, " is a fishing tour in the neighbourhood of Kilnsey or Wensleydale. I must be incorrigibly idle, and born to hate anything that even looks like work ; and yet I want to be active, to do something, to find a field for my energies, such as they are." In the last passage the writer did himself some MEAsOIR. XXVI injustice, and what he seems to have taken for "incorrigible idleness," was in reality nothing else than the demand of nature within him for some real rest and relaxation from his Oxford studies. His scrupulous conscientiousness, moreover, was already beginning to cause him much anxiety with regard to his suture life, as the time for his leaving Oxford was approaching.

That warning voice of nature, however, unhappily was not attended to. He would have entered the Schools for his final examination the succeeding autumn, or at latest the following spring ; but in the latter part of the summer of this year (1864), under the strain of overwork, his health broke completely down, and for a period of some years he was obliged to live in a state of enforced, and to him scarcely endurable, inactivity. A great portion of this time he spent in the retired parts of Wales, and the English Lake District, and some part of it in Ireland. On one occasion, during this period, writing to one of his brothers on his experiences of overwork, he says : — " Let me advise you earnestly not to try to do too many things. I killed the goose with a vengeance, and got no golden egg. I was expecting in a few weeks [when taken ill] a degree with honours, and a good start in life, and . . . had to leave Oxford without even an ordinary degree, which I knew MEMOIR.