VIII. CATTLE KEEPING…

VIII. CATTLE KEEPING

THE ISI-BAYA AND ITS PRIVILEGES -- MILKING COWS -- THE CURIOUS MILK PAIL -- MODE OF MAKING IT -- A MILKING SCENE, AND THE VARIOUS PERSONAGES EMPLOYED IN IT -- PRECAUTIONS TAKEN WITH A RESTIVE COW -- KAFFIR COW WHISTLES -- CHIEFS AND THEIR CATTLE -- MANAGEMENT OF THE HERDS, AND CATTLE “LIFTING” -- A COW THE UNIT OF KAFFIR CURRENCY -- A KAFFIR’S WEALTH, AND THE USES TO WHICH IT IS PUT -- A KAFFIR ROB ROY -- ADVENTURES OF DUTULU, HIS EXPLOITS, HIS ESCAPES, AND HIS DEATH -- ODD METHOD OF ORNAMENTING COWS -- LE VAILLANT’S ACCOUNT OF THE METHODS EMPLOYED IN DECORATING THE CATTLE -- HOW OBSTINATE COWS ARE FORCED TO GIVE THEIR MILK -- A KAFFIR HOMESTEAD -- VARIOUS USES OF CATTLE -- HOW MILK IS PREPARED -- “AMASI,” OR THICKENED MILK -- OTHER USES FOR CATTLE -- THE SADDLE AND PACK OXEN -- HOW THEY ARE LADEN AND GIRTHED.

The isi-baya is quite a sacred spot to a Kaffir, and in many tribes the women are so strictly prohibited from entering it, that if even the favorite wife were discovered within its precincts she would have but a very poor chance of her life.

During the day-time the herd are out at pasture, watched by “boys” appointed to this important office, but when night approaches, or if there is any indication of danger from enemies, the cows are driven into the isi-baya, and the entrances firmly barred. It is mostly in this enclosure that the cattle are milked, this operation being always intrusted to the men. Indeed, as is well observed by Mr. Shooter, milking his cows is the only work that a Kaffir really likes. About ten in the morning the cattle are taken into the isi-baya, and the Kaffir proceeds to milk them. He takes with him his milk pail, an article very unlike that which is in use in Europe. It is carved out of a solid piece of wood, and has a comparatively small opening. The specimen from which the figure on page 67 is drawn was brought to England by Mr. Shooter, and is now before me. It is rather more than seventeen inches in length, and is four inches wide at the top, and six inches near the bottom. In interior measurement it is only fourteen inches deep, so that three inches of solid wood are left at the bottom. Its capacity is not very great, as the Kaffir cow does not give nearly as much milk as the cows of an English farmyard. Toward the top are two projecting ears, which enable the milker to hold it firmly between the knees.

In hollowing out the interior of the pail, the Kaffir employs a rather ingenious device. Instead of holding it between his knees, as he does when shaping and ornamenting the exterior, he digs a hole in the ground, and buries the pail as far as the two projecting ears. He then has both his hands at liberty, and can use more force than if he were obliged to trust to the comparatively slight hold afforded by the knees. Of course he sits down while at work, for a Kaffir, like all other savages, has the very strongest objection to needless labor, and will never stand when he has any opportunity of sitting. It will be seen that the pail is not capable of holding much more than the quantity which a good cow ought to yield, and when the Kaffir has done with one cow, he pours the milk into a large receptacle, and then goes off with his empty pail to another cow for a fresh supply.

The scene that presents itself in the isi-baya is a very singular one, and strikes oddly upon European ears, as well as eyes. In the first place, the figure of the milker is calculated to present an aspect equally strange and ludicrous. Perfectly naked, with the exception of the smallest imaginable apology for a garment, adorned with strings of beads that contrast boldly with his red-black skin, and with his head devoid of hair, except the oval ring which denotes his position as a married “man,” the Kaffir sits on the ground, his knees on a level with his chin, and the queer-looking milk pail grasped between them.

Then we have the spectacle of the calf trying to eject the milker, and being continually kept away from her mother by a young boy armed with a stick. And, in cases where the cow is vicious, a third individual is employed, who holds the cow by her horns with one hand, and grasps her nostrils firmly with the other. As soon as the supply of milk ceases, the calf is allowed to approach its mother and suck for a short time, after which it is driven away, and the man resumes his place. Cattle are milked twice in the day, the second time being at sunset, when they are brought home for the night. Generally, however, a cow will stand still to be milked, as is the case with our own cattle, and in that case no precaution is needed, except that of putting through the nose a stick of some eighteen inches in length. The cattle know by experience that if this is grasped and twisted it gives great pain, and so they prefer to remain quiet. The hole in the nose is made at a very early age.

So much for the strangeness of the sight, which is very unlike a corresponding scene in an English farmyard. The Kaffir is never silent while milking his cows, but thinks it necessary to utter a series of the oddest sounds that ever greeted mortal ears. Even in England there seems to be a kind of universal cow language, in which every dairy-maid and farmyard laborer is versed, and which is not easily learned by an uninitiate. But the Kaffir, who is naturally an adept at shouting and yelling, encourages the cow by all the varied screams at his command, mixed with loud whistles and tender words of admiration. One consequence of this curious proceeding is, that the cows have always been so accustomed to associate these sounds with the process of being milked, that when an Englishman buys cows he is obliged to have a Kaffir to milk them, no white man being able to produce those cries, screams, and whistles to which they have always been accustomed.

In driving the cattle, and in calling them from a distance, the Kaffir makes great use of whistling, an art in which he excels. With his lips alone he can produce the most extraordinary sounds, and by the aid of his fingers he can whistle so loudly as to half deafen any one who may be near. Sometimes, however, he has recourse to art, and makes whistles of great efficacy, though of simple construction. They are made of bone, or ivory, and are used by being held to the lower lip, and sounded exactly as we blow a key when we wish to ascertain whether it is clear.

The chiefs who possess many oxen are very fastidious about them, and have an odd fancy of assembling them in herds, in which every animal is of the same color. The oxen also undergo a sort of training, as was remarked by Retief, who was killed in battle with Dingan, the Zulu king. He paid a visit to that treacherous despot, and was entertained by dances in which the cattle had been trained to assist. “In one dance,” he says, “the people were intermixed with one hundred and seventy-six oxen, all without horns, and of one color. They have long strips of skin hanging pendent from the forehead, cheeks, shoulders, and under the throat; these strips being cut from the hide when the animals are calves. These oxen are divided into two and three among the whole army, which then dance in companies, each with its attendant oxen. In this way they all in turn approach the king, the oxen turning off into a kraal, and then manœuvring in a line from the king. It is surprising that the oxen should be so well trained; for, notwithstanding all the startling and yelling which accompany the dance, they never move faster than a slow walking pace. Dingan showed me, as he said, his smallest herd of oxen, all alike, and with white backs. He allowed two of my people to count them, and the enumeration amounted to two thousand four hundred and twenty-four. I am informed that his herds of red and black oxen consist of three to four thousand each.” I may here mention casually, that the same fashion of keeping animals of similar colors in separate herds is in force in South America, among the owners of the vast herds of horses which thrive so well in that country.

The Kaffirs manage their cattle with wonderful skill, and the animals perfectly understand the meaning of the cries with which they are assailed. Consequently, it is almost as difficult for an Englishman to drive his cows as to milk them, and assistance has to be sought from the natives. This noisy method of cattle driving is the source of much difficulty to the soldiers, when they have been sent to recover cattle stolen by those inveterate thieves, the Kaffir tribes, who look upon the cattle of the white man as their legitimate prize, and are constantly on the look-out for them. Indeed, they enact at the present day that extinct phase of Scottish life when the inhabitants of the Highlands stole the cattle of the Lowlanders, and euphemistically described the operation as “lifting;” themselves not being by any means thieves, but “gentleman drovers,” very punctilious in point of honor, and thinking themselves as good gentlemen as any in the land.

The cow constitutes now, in fact, the wealth of the Kaffir, just as was the case in the early patriarchal days. Among those tribes which are not brought into connection with the white man, money is of no value, and all wealth is measured by cows. One of the great inland chiefs, when asking about the Queen of England, was naturally desirous of hearing how many cattle she possessed, and on hearing that many of her subjects had more cows than herself, conceived a very mean opinion of her power. He counted his cattle by the thousand, and if any inferior chief had dared to rival him in his wealth, that chief would very soon be incapacitated from possessing anything at all, while his cattle would swell the number of the royal herds. His idea was, that even if her predecessor had bequeathed so poor a throne to her, she ought to assert her dignity by seizing that wealth which she had not been fortunate enough to inherit.

The cow is the unit of money. The cost of anything that is peculiarly valuable is reckoned by the number of cows that it would fetch if sold, and even the women are reckoned by this standard, eight cows equalling one woman, just as twelve pence equal one shilling. Most of the wars which devastate Southern Africa are caused entirely by the desire of one man to seize the herds that belong to another, and when the white man is engaged in African warfare, he is perforce obliged to wage it on the same principle. During the late Kaffir war, the reports of the newspapers had a singularly unimposing appearance. The burden of their song was invariably cows. General Blank had advanced so far into the enemy’s country, and driven off five thousand head of cattle. Or perhaps the case was reversed; the position of the European troops had been suddenly surprised, and several thousand cattle stolen. In fact, it seemed to be a war solely about cattle, and, to a certain extent, that was necessarily the case. The cattle formed not only the wealth of the enemy, but his resources, so that there was no better way of bringing him to terms than by cutting off his commissariat, and preventing the rebellious chiefs from maintaining their armed forces. We had no wish to kill the Kaffirs themselves, but merely that they should be taught not to meddle with us, and there was no better way of doing so than by touching them on their tenderest point.

The greatest ambition of a Kaffir is to possess cattle, inasmuch as their owner can command every luxury which a savage millionaire desires. He can eat beef and drink sour milk every day; he can buy as many wives as he likes, at the current price of eight to fourteen cows each, according to the fluctuation of the market; he can make all kinds of useful articles out of the hides; he can lubricate himself with fat to his heart’s content, and he can decorate his sable person with the flowing tails. With plenty of cattle, he can set himself up as a great man; and, the more cattle he has, the greater man he becomes. Instead of being a mere “boy,” living with a number of other “boys” in one hut, he becomes a “man,” shaves his head, assumes the proud badge of manhood, and has a hut to himself. As his cattle increase, he adds more wives to his stock, builds separate huts for them, has a kraal of his own, becomes the “umnumzana,” or great man--a term about equivalent to the familiar “Burra Sahib” of Indian life--and may expect to be addressed by strange boys as “inkosi,” or chief. Should his cattle prosper, he gathers round him the young men who are still poor, and who are attracted by his wealth, and the hope of eating beef at his cost. He assigns huts to them within his kraal, and thus possesses an armed guard who will take care of his cherished cattle. Indeed, such a precaution is absolutely necessary. In Africa, as well as in Europe, wealth creates envy, and a man who has succeeded in gathering it knows full well that there are plenty who will do their best to take it away. Sometimes a more powerful man will openly assault his kraal, but stratagem is more frequently employed than open violence, and there are in every tribe certain old and crafty cattle-stealers, who have survived the varied dangers of such a life, and who know every ruse that can be employed.

There is a story of one of these men, named Dutulu, who seems to have been a kind of Kaffir Rob Roy. He always employed a mixture of artifice and force. He used to set off for the kraal which he intended to rob, and, in the dead of night, contrived to place some of his assistants by the entrance of the huts. Another assistant then quietly removed the cattle from the isi-baya, while he directed the operations. Dutulu then caused an alarm to be made, and as the inmates crept out to see what was the matter, they were speared by the sentinels at the entrance. Not one was spared. The men were killed lest they should resist, and the women lest they should give the alarm. Even when he had carried off the cattle, his anxieties were not at an end, for cattle cannot be moved very fast, and they are not easily concealed. But Dutulu was a man not to be baffled, and he almost invariably succeeded in reaching home with his spoil. He never, in the first instance, allowed the cattle to be driven in the direction which he intended to take. He used to have them driven repeatedly over the same spot, so as to mix the tracks and bewilder the men who were sure to follow. More than once he baffled pursuit by taking his stolen herd back again, and keeping it in the immediate neighborhood of the desolated kraal, calculating rightly that the pursuers would follow him in the direction of his own home.

The man’s cunning and audacity were boundless. On one occasion, his own kraal was attacked, but Dutulu was far too clever to fall into the trap which he had so often set for others. Instead of crawling out of his hut and getting himself speared, he rolled up his leather mantle, and pushed it through the door. As he had anticipated, it was mistaken in the semi-darkness for a man, and was instantly pierced with a spear. While the weapon was still entangled in the kaross, Dutulu darted from his hut, sprang to the entrance of his isi-baya fully armed, and drove off the outwitted assailants. Even in his old age his audacity did not desert him, and he actually determined on stealing a herd of cattle in the day-time. No one dared to join him, but he determined on carrying out his desperate intention single-handed. He succeeded in driving the herd to some distance, but was discovered, pursued, and surrounded by the enemy. Although one against many, he fought his foes bravely, and, although severely wounded, succeeded in escaping into the bush, where they dared not follow him.

Undeterred by this adventure, he had no sooner recovered than he planned another cattle-stealing expedition. His chief dissuaded him from the undertaking, urging that he had quite enough cattle, that he had been seriously wounded, and that he was becoming too old. The ruling passion was, however, too strong to be resisted, and Dutulu attacked a kraal on his old plan, letting the cattle be driven in one direction, killing as many enemies as he could, and then running off on the opposite side to that which had been taken by the cattle, so as to decoy his pursuers in a wrong direction. However, his advanced years, and perhaps his recent wounds, had impaired his speed, and as there was no bush at hand, he dashed into a morass, and crouched beneath the water. His enemies dared not follow him, but surrounded the spot, and hurled their assagais at him. They did him no harm, because he protected his head with his shield, but he could not endure the long immersion. So, finding that his strength was failing, he suddenly left the morass, and dashed at his enemies, hoping that he might force his way through them. He did succeed in killing several of them, and in passing their line, but he could not run fast enough to escape, and was overtaken and killed.

So, knowing that men of a similar character are hankering after his herd, their dusky owner is only too glad to have a number of young men who will guard his cattle from such cunning enemies.

The love that a Kaffir has for his cattle induces him to ornament them in various ways, some of which must entail no little suffering upon them. To this, however, he is quite indifferent, often causing frightful tortures to the animals which he loves, not from the least desire of hurting them, but from the utter unconcern as to inflicting pain which is characteristic of the savage, in whatever part of the earth he may be. He trims the ears of the cows into all kinds of odd shapes, one of the favorite patterns being that of a leaf with deeply serrated edges. He gathers up bunches of the skin, generally upon the head, ties string tightly round them, and so forms a series of projecting knots of various sizes and shapes. He cuts strips of hide from various parts of the body, especially the head and face, and lets them hang down as lappets. He cuts the dewlap and makes fringes of it, and all without the least notion that he is causing the poor animal to suffer tortures.

But, in some parts of the country, he lavishes his powers on the horns. Among us the horn does not seem capable of much modification, but a Kaffir, skilful in his art, can never be content to leave the horns as they are. He will cause one horn to project forward and another backward, and he will train one to grow upright, and the other pointing to the ground. Sometimes he observes a kind of symmetry, and has both horns bent with their points nearly touching the shoulders, or trains them so that their tips meet above, and they form an arch over their head. Now and then an ox is seen in which a most singular effect has been produced. As the horns of the young ox sprout they are trained over the forehead until the points meet. They are then manipulated so as to make them coalesce, and so shoot upward from the middle of the forehead, like the horn of the fabled unicorn.

Le Vaillant mentions this curious mode of decorating the cattle, and carefully describes the process by which it is performed. “I had not yet taken a near view of the horned cattle which they brought with them, because at break of day they strayed to the thickets and pastures, and were not brought back by their keepers until the evening. One day, however, having repaired to their kraal very early, I was much surprised when I first beheld one of these animals. I scarcely knew them to be oxen and cows, not only on account of their being much smaller than ours, since I observed in them the same form and the same fundamental character, in which I could not be deceived, but on account of the multiplicity of their horns, and the variety of their different twistings. They had a great resemblance to those marine productions known by naturalists under the name of stag’s horns. Being at this time persuaded that these concretions, of which I had no idea, were a peculiar present of nature, I considered the Kaffir oxen as a variety of the species, but I was undeceived by my guide, who informed me that this singularity was only the effect of their invention and taste; and that, by means of a process with which they were well acquainted, they could not only multiply these horns, but also give them any form that their imaginations might suggest. Having offered to exhibit their skill in my presence, if I had any desire of learning their method, it appeared to me so new and uncommon, that I was willing to secure an opportunity, and for several days I attended a regular course of lessons on this subject.

“They take the animal at as tender an age as possible, and when the horns begin to appear they make a small vertical incision in them with a saw, or any other instrument that may be substituted for it, and divide them into two parts. This division makes the horns, yet tender, separate of themselves, so that in time the animal has four very distinct ones. If they wish to have six, or even more, similar notches made with the saw produce as many as may be required. But if they are desirous of forcing one of these divisions in the whole horn to form, for example, a complete circle, they cut away from the point, which must not be hurt, a small part of its thickness, and this amputation, often renewed, and with much patience, makes the horn bend in a contrary direction, and, the point meeting the root, it exhibits the appearance of a perfect circle. As it is certain that incision always causes a greater or less degree of bending, it may be readily conceived that every variation that caprice can imagine may be produced by this simple method. In short, one must be born a Kaffir, and have his taste and patience, to submit to that minute care and unwearied attention required for this operation, which in Kaffirland can only be useless, but in other climates would be hurtful. For the horn, thus disfigured, would become weak, whereas, when preserved strong and entire, it keeps at a distance the famished bears and wolves of Europe.” The reader must remember that the words refer to France, and that the date of Le Vaillant’s travels was 1780-85.

The same traveller mentions an ingenious method employed by the Kaffirs when a cow is bad-tempered, and will not give her milk freely. A rope is tied to one of the hind feet, and a man hauls the foot off the ground by means of the rope. The cow cannot run away on account of the man who is holding her nose, and the pain caused by the violent dragging of her foot backward, together with the constrained attitude of standing on three legs, soon subdues the most refractory animal.

Before proceeding to another chapter, it will be well to explain the illustration on page 57, called “The Kaffirs at Home.”

The spectator is supposed to be just inside the outer enclosure, and nearly opposite to the isi-baya, in which some cattle are seen. In the centre of the plate a milking scene is shown. The cow, being a restive one, is being held by the “man,” by means of a stick passed through its nostrils, and by means of the contrast between the man and the animal the small size of the latter is well shown. A Kaffir ox averages only four hundred pounds in weight. Beneath the cow is seen the milker, holding between his knees the curiously shaped milkpail. On the right hand is seen another Kaffir emptying a pailful of milk into one of the baskets which are used as stores for this article. The reader will notice that the orifice of the basket is very small, and so would cause a considerable amount of milk to be spilt, if it were poured from the wide mouth of the pail. The Kaffir has no funnel, so he extemporizes one by holding his hands over the mouth of the pail, and placing his thumbs so as to cause the milk to flow in a narrow stream between them.

A woman is seen in the foreground, going out to labor in the fields, with her child slung at her back, and her heavy hoe on her shoulder. In order to show the ordinary size of the huts a young Kaffir is shown standing near one of them, while a “man” is seated against it, and engaged alternately in his pipe and conversation. Three shield sticks are seen in the fence of the isi-baya, and the strip of skin suspended to the pole shows that the chief man of the kraal is in residence. In front are several of the odd-shaped Cape sheep, with their long legs and thick tails, in which the whole fat of the body seems to concentrate itself. Two of the characteristic trees of the country are shown, namely, an euphorbia standing within the fence, and an acacia in the background. This last mentioned tree is sometimes called Kameel-dorn, or Camel-thorn, because the giraffe, which the Dutch colonists will call a camel, feeds upon its leaves. In the distance are two of those table-topped mountains which are so characteristic of Southern Africa.

The Kaffir uses his cattle for various purposes. Whenever he can afford such a luxury, which is very seldom, he feasts upon its flesh, and contrives to consume a quantity that seems almost too much for human digestion to undertake. But the chief diet is the milk of the cows, generally mixed with meal, so as to form a kind of porridge. The milk is never eaten in its fresh state, the Kaffirs thinking it to be very indigestible. Indeed, they look upon fresh milk much as a beer-drinker looks upon sweet-wort, and have an equal objection to drinking the liquid in its crude state. When a cow has been milked, the Kaffir empties the pail into a large store basket, such as is seen on the right-hand of the engraving “Kaffirs at Home,” page 57. This basket already contains milk in the second stage, and is never completely emptied. Soon after the milk has been placed in the basket, a sort of fermentation takes place, and in a short time the whole of the liquid is converted into a semi-solid mass, and a watery fluid something like whey. The latter is drawn off, and used as a drink, or given to the children; and the remainder is a thick, clotted substance, about the consistency of Devonshire cream.

This is called “amasi,” and is the staff of life to a Kaffir. Europeans who have lived in Kaffirland generally dislike amasi exceedingly at first, but soon come to prefer it to milk in any other form. Some persons have compared the amasi to curds after the whey has been drawn off; but this is not a fair comparison. The amasi is not in lumps or in curd, but a thick, creamy mass, more like our clotted cream than any other substance. It has a slightly acid flavor. Children, whether black or white, are always very fond of amasi, and there can be no better food for them. Should the Kaffir be obliged to use a new vessel for the purpose of making this clotted milk, he always takes some amasi ready prepared, and places it in the vessel together with the fresh milk, where it acts like yeast in liquid fermentation, and soon reduces the entire mass to its own consistency.

The oxen are also used for riding purposes, and as beasts of burden. Europeans employ them largely as draught oxen, and use a great number to draw a single wagon; but the wagon is an European invention, and therefore without the scope of the present work. The native contrives to ride the oxen without the use of a saddle, balancing himself ingeniously on the sharply ridged back, and guiding his horned steed by means of a stick through its nostrils, with a cord tied to each end of it. He is not at all a graceful rider, but jogs along with his arms extended, and his elbows jerking up and down with every movement of the beast. Still, the ox answers his purpose; and, as it never goes beyond a walking pace, no great harm is done by a fall.

Since the introduction of horses, the Kaffirs have taken a great liking to them, and have proved themselves capable of being good horsemen, after their fashion. This fashion is, always to ride at full gallop; for they can see no object in mounting a swift animal if its speed is not to be brought into operation. It is a very picturesque sight when a party of mounted Kaffirs come dashing along, their horses at full speed, their shields and spears in their hands, and their karosses flying behind them as they ride. When they have occasion to stop, they pull up suddenly, and are off their horses in a moment.

However the Kaffir may be satisfied with the bare back of the ox, the European cannot manage to retain his seat. In the first place, the sharp spine of the ox does not form a very pleasant seat; and in the next place, its skin is so loose that it is impossible for the rider to retain his place by any grasp of the legs. A few cloths or hides are therefore placed on the animal’s back, and a long “reim,” or leathern rope, is passed several times round its body, being drawn tightly by a couple of men, one at each side. By this operation the skin is braced up tight, and a saddle can be fixed nearly as firmly as on a horse. Even under these circumstances, the movements of the ox are very unpleasant to an European equestrian, and, although not so fatiguing as those of a camel, require a tolerable course of practice before they become agreeable.

This custom of tightly girthing is not confined to those animals which are used for the saddle, but is also practised on those that are used as pack-oxen; the loose skin rendering the packages liable to slip off the animal’s back. The whole process of girthing the ox is a very curious one. A sturdy Kaffir stands at each side, while another holds the ox firmly by a stick passed through its nostrils. The skins or cloths are then laid on the back of the ox, and the long rope thrown over them. One man retains his hold of one end, while the other passes the rope round the animal’s body. Each man takes firm hold of the rope, puts one foot against the ox’s side, by way of a fulcrum, and then hauls away with the full force of his body. Holding his own part of the rope tightly with one hand, the second Kaffir dexterously throws the end under the animal to his comrade, who catches it, and passes it over the back, when it is seized as before. Another hauling-match now takes place, and the process goes on until the cord is exhausted, and the diameter of the ox notably diminished. In spite of the enormous pressure to which it is subject, the beast seems to care little about it, and walks away as if unconcerned. If the journey is a long one, the ropes are generally tightened once or twice, the native drivers seeming to take a strange pleasure in the operation.

The illustration No. 1, on page 73, shows the manner in which the Kaffir employs the ox for riding and pack purposes. A chief is returning with his triumphant soldiers from a successful expedition against an enemy’s kraal, which they have “eaten up,” as their saying is. In the foreground is seen the chief, fat and pursy, dressed in the full paraphernalia of war, and seated on an ox. A hornless ox is generally chosen for the saddle, in order to avoid the danger of the rider falling forward and wounding himself; but sometimes the Kaffir qualifies an ox for saddle purposes by forcing the horns to grow downward, and in many instances contrives to make the horns flap about quite loosely, as if they were only suspended by thongs from the animal’s head. The soldiers are seen in charge of other oxen, laden with the spoils of the captured kraal, to which they have set fire; and in the middle distance, a couple of men are reloading a refractory ox, and drawing the rope tightly round it, to prevent it from shaking off its load a second time.

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IX. MARRIAGE

POLYGAMY PRACTISED AMONG THE KAFFIRS -- GOZA AND HIS WIVES -- NUMBER OF A KING’S HAREM -- TCHAKA, THE BACHELOR KING -- THE KING AND HIS SUCCESSORS -- A BARBAROUS CUSTOM -- CAUSES AND EFFECTS OF POLYGAMY AMONG THE KAFFIRS -- DOMESTIC LIFE AND ITS CUSTOMS -- THE VARIED DUTIES OF A WIFE -- ANECDOTE OF A KAFFIR HUSBAND -- JEALOUSY AND ITS EFFECTS -- A FAVORITE WIFE MURDERED BY HER COMPANIONS -- MINOR QUARRELS, AND SUMMARY JUSTICE -- THE FIRST WIFE AND HER PRIVILEGES -- MINUTE CODE OF LAWS -- THE LAW OF INHERITANCE AND PRIMOGENITURE -- THE MASTERSHIP OF THE KRAAL -- PROTECTION TO THE ORPHAN -- GUARDIANS, THEIR DUTIES AND PRIVILEGES -- PRELIMINARIES TO MARRIAGE -- KAFFIR COURTSHIP -- THE BRIDEGROOM ON APPROVAL -- AN UNWILLING CELIBATE -- A KAFFIR LOVE TALE -- UZINTO AND HER ADVENTURES -- REWARD OF PERSEVERANCE.

Contrary to general opinion, marriage is quite as important a matter among the Kaffirs as with ourselves, and even though the men who can afford it do not content themselves with one wife, there is as much ceremony in the last marriage as in the first. As to the number of wives, no law on that subject is found in the minute, though necessarily traditional, code of laws, by which the Kaffirs regulate their domestic polity. A man may take just as many wives as he can afford, and the richer a man is, the more wives he has as a general rule. An ordinary man has generally to be content with one, while those of higher rank have the number of wives dependent on their wealth and position. Goza, for example, whose portrait is given on page 117 and who is a powerful chief, has a dozen or two of wives. There is now before me a photograph representing a whole row of his wives, all sitting on their heels, in the attitude adopted by Kaffir women, and all looking rather surprised at the photographer’s operations. In our sense of the word, none of them have the least pretence to beauty, whatever may have been the case when they were young girls, but it is evident that their joint husband was satisfied with their charms, or they would not retain a position in his household.

As to the king, the number of his wives is illimitable. Parents come humbly before him, and offer their daughters to him, only too proud if he will accept them, and asking no payment for them. The reverence for authority must be very strong in a Kaffir’s breast, if it can induce him to forego any kind of payment whatever, especially as that payment is in cattle. The king has perhaps twenty or thirty large kraals in different parts of the country, and in each of them he has a considerable number of wives, so that he is always at home whenever he changes his residence from one kraal to another. In fact, he never knows, within fifty or so, how many wives he has, nor would he know all his wives by sight, and in consequence he is obliged to keep a most jealous watch over his household, lest a neglected wife should escape and take a husband, who, although a plebeian, would be her own choice. In consequence of this feeling, none of the inhabitants of the royal harem ever leave their house without a strong guard at hand, besides a number of spies, who conceal themselves in unsuspected places, and who would report to the king the slightest indiscretion on the part of any of his wives. It is not even safe for a Kaffir to speak to one of these closely guarded beauties, for, even if no guards are openly in sight, a spy is sure to be concealed at no great distance, and the consequence of such an indiscretion would be, that the woman would certainly lose her life, and the man probably be a fellow sufferer.

That able and sanguinary chief Tchaka formed an exception to the ordinary rule. He would accept as many dark maidens as might be offered to him, but he would not raise one of them to the rank of wife. The reason for this line of conduct was his horror of seeing a successor to his throne. A Kaffir of rank always seems to think that he himself is exempt from the ordinary lot of humanity, and will never speak of the possibility of his own death, nor allow any one else to do so. In a dependent, such a piece of bad breeding would be looked upon as an overt act of treachery, and the thoughtless delinquent would instantly lose the power of repeating the offence by forfeiting his life. Even in an European, the offence would be a very grave one, and would jar gratingly on the feelings of all who heard the ill-omened words. This disinclination to speak of death sometimes shows itself very curiously. On one occasion, an Englishman went to pay a visit to Panda, after the contradiction of a report of that monarch’s death. After the preliminary greetings, he expressed his pleasure at seeing the chief so well, especially after the report of his death. The word “death” seemed to strike the king and all the court like an electric shock, and an ominous silence reigned around. At last Panda recovered himself, and, with a voice that betrayed his emotion, said that such subjects were never spoken of, and then adroitly changed the conversation.

Now, the idea of a successor implies the death of the present occupant of the throne, and therefore Tchaka refused to marry any wives, from whom his successor might be born. More than that, if any of the inmates of his harem showed signs that the population was likely to be increased, they were sure to be arrested on some trivial pretence, dragged out of their homes, and summarily executed. We may feel disposed to wonder that such a heartless monster could by any means have found any inmates of his harem. But we must remember that of all men a Kaffir chief is the most despotic, having absolute power over any of his subjects, and his orders being obeyed with an instantaneous obedience, no matter how revolting they might be. Parents would kill their children and children their parents at his command; and so strange a hold has obedience to the king upon the mind of a Kaffir, that men have been known to thank him and utter his praises while being beaten to death by his orders.

Therefore the parents of these ill-fated girls had no option in the matter. If he wanted them he would take them, probably murdering their parents, and adding their cattle to his own vast herds. By voluntarily offering them they might possibly gain his good graces, and there might be a chance that they would escape the fate that had befallen so many of their predecessors in the royal favor. These strange effects of despotism are by no means confined to Southern Africa, but are found among more civilized people than the Kaffirs. We all remember the opening story of the “Arabian Nights,” which furnishes the thread on which all the stories are strung. How a king found that his wife was unworthy of her position, and how he immediately rushed to the conclusion that such unworthiness was not the fault of an individual, but a quality inherent in the sex. How he reduced his principle to practice by marrying a new wife every evening, and cutting off her head next morning, until his purpose was arrested by the ingenious narrator of the tales, who originated the practice now prevalent in periodicals, namely, always leaving off unexpectedly in an interesting part of the story.

This extraordinary proceeding on the part of an Oriental monarch is told with a perfect absence of comment, and neither the narrator nor the hearer displays any signs that such a line of conduct was strange, or even culpable. The subjects who were called upon to supply such a succession of wives certainly grumbled, but they continued to supply them, and evidently had no idea that their monarch’s orders could be disobeyed.

The effect of polygamy among the wives themselves is rather curious. In the first place, they are accustomed to the idea, and have never been led to expect that they would bear sole rule in the house. Indeed, none of them would entertain such an idea, because the very fact that a man possessed only one wife would derogate from his dignity, and consequently from her own. There is another reason for the institution of polygamy, namely, the division of labor. Like all savages, the Kaffir man never condescends to perform manual labor, all real work falling to the lot of the women. As to any work that requires bodily exertion, the Kaffir never dreams of undertaking it. He would not even lift a basket of rice on the head of his favorite wife, but would sit on the ground and allow some woman to do it. One of my friends, when rather new to Kaffirland, happened to look into a hut, and there saw a stalwart Kaffir sitting and smoking his pipe, while the women were hard at work in the sun, building huts, carrying timber, and performing all kinds of severe labor. Struck with a natural indignation at such behavior, he told the smoker to get up and work like a man. This idea was too much even for the native politeness of the Kaffir, who burst into a laugh at so absurd a notion. “Women work,” said he, “men sit in the house and smoke.”

The whole cares of domestic life fall upon the married woman. Beside doing all the ordinary work of the house, including the building of it, she has to prepare all the food and keep the hungry men supplied. She cannot go to a shop and buy bread. She has to till the ground, to sow the grain, to watch it, to reap it, to thrash it, to grind it, and to bake it. Her husband may perhaps condescend to bring home game that he has killed, though he will not burden himself longer than he can help. But the cooking falls to the woman’s share, and she has not only to stew the meat, but to make the pots in which it is prepared. After a hard day’s labor out of doors, she cannot go home and rest, but is obliged to grind the maize or millet, a work of very great labor, on account of the primitive machinery which is employed--simply one stone upon another, the upper stone being rocked backward and forward with a motion like that of a chemist’s pestle. The Kaffirs never keep flour ready ground, so that this heavy task has to be performed regularly every day. When she has ground the corn she has either to bake it into cakes, or boil it into porridge, and then has the gratification of seeing the men eat it. She also has to make the beer which is so popular among the Kaffirs, but has very little chance of drinking the product of her own industry.

It will be seen, therefore, that the work of a Kaffir wife is about twice as hard as that of an English farm laborer, and that therefore she is rather glad than otherwise when her husband takes another wife, who may divide her labors. Moreover, the first wife has always a sort of preëminence over the others, and retains it unless she forfeits the favor of her husband by some peculiarly flagrant act, in which case she is deposed, and another wife raised to the vacant honor. When such an event takes place, the husband selects any of his wives that he happens to like best, without any regard for seniority, and, as a natural consequence, the youngest has the best chance of becoming the chief wife, thus causing much jealousy among them. Did all the wives live in the same house with their husband, the bickerings would be constant; but, according to Kaffir law, each wife has her own hut, that belonging to the principal wife being on the right hand of the chief’s house.

Sometimes, however, jealousy will prevail, in spite of these preventives, and has been known to lead to fatal results. One case of poisoning has already been mentioned (page 51), and others occur more frequently than is known. One such case was a rather remarkable one. There had been two wives, and a third was afterward added. The other two wives felt themselves injured by her presence, and for a year subjected her to continual persecution. One day, when the husband returned to his house, he found her absent, and asked from the others where she was. They replied that they did not know, and that when they went to fetch firewood, according to daily custom, they had left her in the kraal. Dissatisfied with the answer, he pressed them more closely, and was then told that she had gone off to her father’s house. At the first dawn he set off to the father’s kraal, and found that nothing had been heard of her. His next step was to go to one of the witch doctors, or prophets, and ask him what had become of his favorite wife. The man answered that the two elder wives had murdered her. He set off homeward, but before he reached his kraal, the dead body of the murdered wife had been discovered by a herd boy. The fact was, that she had gone out with the other two wives in the morning to fetch firewood, a quarrel had arisen, and they had hanged her to a tree with the bush-rope used in tying up the bundles of wood.

As to minor assaults on a favorite wife, they are common enough. She will be beaten, or have her face scratched so as to spoil her beauty, or the holes in her ears will be torn violently open. The assailants are sure to suffer in their own turn for their conduct, their husband beating them most cruelly with the first weapon that happens to come to hand. But, in the mean time, the work which they have done has been effected, and they have at all events enjoyed some moments of savage vengeance. Fights often take place among the wives, but if the husband hears the noise of the scuffle he soon puts a stop to it, by seizing a stick, and impartially belaboring each combatant.

The position of a first wife is really one of some consequence. Although she has been bought and paid for by her husband, she is not looked upon as so utter an article of merchandise as her successors. “When a man takes his first wife,” says Mr. Shooter, “all the cows he possesses are regarded as her property. She uses the milk for the support of her family, and, after the birth of her first son, they are called his cattle. Theoretically, the husband can neither sell nor dispose of them without his wife’s consent. If he wish to take a second wife, and require any of these cattle for the purpose, he must obtain her concurrence.”

“When I asked a native how this was to be procured, he said by flattery and coaxing, or if that did not succeed, by bothering her until she yielded, and told him not to do so to-morrow, i. e. for the future. Sometimes she becomes angry, and tells him to take all, for they are not hers, but his. If she comply with her husband’s polygamous desires, and furnish cattle to purchase and indue a new wife, she will be entitled to her services, and will call her my wife. She will also be entitled to the cattle received for a new wife’s eldest daughter. The cattle assigned to the second wife are subject to the same rules, and so on, while fresh wives are taken. Any wife may furnish the cattle necessary to add a new member to the harem, and with the same consequences as resulted to the first wife; but it seems that the queen, as the first is called, can claim the right of refusal.” It will be seen from this account of the relative stations of the different wives, that the position of chief wife is one that would be much prized, and we can therefore understand that the elevation of a new comer to that rank would necessarily create a strong feeling of jealousy in the hearts of the others.

In consequence of the plurality of wives, the law of inheritance is most complicated. Some persons may wonder that a law which seems to belong especially to civilization should be found among savage tribes like the Kaffirs. But it must be remembered that the Kaffir is essentially a man living under authority, and that his logical turn of intellect has caused him to frame a legal code which is singularly minute in all its details, and which enters not only into the affairs of the nation, but into those of private life. The law respecting the rank held by the wives, and the control which they exercise over property, is sufficiently minute to give promise that there would also be a law which regulated the share held in the property of their respective children.

In order to understand the working of this law, the reader must remember two facts which have been mentioned: the one, that the wives do not live in common, but that each has her own house; and moreover, that to each house a certain amount of cattle is attached, in theory, if not in practice. When the headman of a kraal dies, his property is divided among his children by virtue of a law, which, though unwritten, is well known, and is as precise as any similar law in England. If there should be an eldest son, born in the house of the chief wife, he succeeds at once to his father’s property, and inherits his rank. There is a very common Kaffir song, which, though not at all filial, is characteristic. It begins by saying, “My father has died, and I have all his cattle,” and then proceeds to expatiate on the joys of wealth. He does not necessarily inherit all the cattle in the kraal, because there may be sons belonging to other houses; in such cases, the eldest son of each house would be entitled to the cattle which are recognized as the property of that house. Still, he exercises a sort of paternal authority over the whole, and will often succeed in keeping all the family together instead of giving to each son his share of the cattle, and letting them separate in different directions. Such a course of proceeding is the best for all parties, as they possess a strength when united, which they could not hope to attain when separated.

It sometimes happens that the owner of the kraal has no son, and in that case, the property is claimed by his father, brother, or nearest living relative,--always, if possible, by a member of the same house as himself. It sometimes happens that no male relation can be found, and when such a failure takes place, the property goes to the chief, as the acknowledged father of the tribe. As to the women, they very seldom inherit anything, but go with the cattle to the different heirs, and form part of their property. To this general rule there are exceptional cases, but they are very rare. It will be seen, therefore, that every woman has some one who acts as her father, whether her father be living or not, and although the compulsory dependent state of women is not conducive to their dignity, it certainly protects them from many evils. If, for example, a girl were left an orphan, an event which is of very frequent occurrence in countries where little value is placed on human life, she would be placed in a very unpleasant position, for either she would find no husband at all, or she would be fought over by poor and turbulent men who wanted to obtain a wife without paying for her. Kaffir law, however, provides for this difficulty by making the male relations heirs of the property, and, consequently, protectors of the women; so that as long as there is a single male relation living, an orphan girl has a guardian. The law even goes further, and contemplates a case which sometimes exists, namely, that all the male relatives are dead, or that they cannot be identified. Such a case as this may well occur in the course of a war, for the enemy will sometimes swoop down on a kraal, and if their plans be well laid, will kill every male inhabitant. Even if all are not killed, the survivors may be obliged to flee for their lives, and thus it may often happen that a young girl finds herself comparatively alone in the world. In such a case, she would go to another chief of her tribe, or even to the king himself, and ask permission to become one of his dependants, and many instances have been known where such refugees have been received into tribes not their own.

When a girl is received as a dependant, she is treated as a daughter, and if she should happen to fall ill, her guardian would offer sacrifices for her exactly as if she were one of his own daughters. Should a suitor present himself, he will have to treat with the guardian exactly as if he were the father, and to him will be paid the cattle that are demanded at the wedding. Mr. Fynn mentions that the women are very tenacious about their relatives, and that in many cases when they could not identify their real relations, they have made arrangements with strangers to declare relationship with them. It is possible that this feeling arises from the notion that a husband would have more respect for a wife who had relations than for one who had none.

As an example of the curious minuteness with which the Kaffir law goes into the details of domestic polity, it may be mentioned that if a female dependant be married, and should afterward be fortunate enough to discover her real relatives, they may claim the cattle paid for her by the husband. But they must give one of the cows to her protector as payment for her maintenance, and the trouble taken in marrying her. Moreover, if any cattle have been sacrificed on her behalf, these must be restored, together with any others that may have been slaughtered at the marriage-feast. The fact that she is paid for by her husband conveys no idea of degradation to a Kaffir woman. On the contrary, she looks upon the fact as a proof of her own worth, and the more cattle are paid for her, the prouder she becomes. Neither would the husband like to take a wife without paying the proper sum for her, because in the first place it would be a tacit assertion that the wife was worthless, and in the second, it would be an admission that he could not afford to pay the usual price. Moreover, the delivery of the cattle, on the one side, and the delivery of the girl on the other, are considered as constituting the validity of the marriage contract, and are looked upon in much the same light as the giving of a ring by the husband and the giving away of the bride by her father in our own marriage ceremonies.

What that price may be is exceedingly variable, and depends much on the beauty and qualifications of the bride, and the rank of her father. The ordinary price of an unmarried girl is eight or ten cows, while twelve or fifteen are not unfrequently paid, and in some cases the husband has been obliged to give as many as fifty before the father would part with his daughter. Payment ought to be made beforehand by rights, and the man cannot demand his wife until the cattle have been transferred. This rule is, however, frequently relaxed, and the marriage is allowed when a certain instalment has been paid, together with a guarantee that the remainder shall be forthcoming within a reasonable time. All preliminaries having been settled, the next business is for the intending bridegroom to present himself to his future wife. Then, although a certain sum is demanded for a girl, and must be paid before she becomes a wife, it does not follow that she exercises no choice whatever in accepting or rejecting a suitor, as may be seen from the following passages taken from Mr. Shooter’s valuable work on Kaffirland:--

“When a husband has been selected for a girl, she may be delivered to him without any previous notice, and Mr. Fynn acknowledges that in some cases this is done. But usually, he says, she is informed of her parent’s intention a month or some longer time beforehand, in order, I imagine, that she may, if possible, be persuaded to think favorably of the man. Barbarians as they are, the Kaffirs are aware that it is better to reason with a woman than to beat her; and I am inclined to think that moral means are usually employed to induce a girl to adopt her parent’s choice, before physical arguments are resorted to. Sometimes very elaborate efforts are made, as I have been told, to produce this result. The first step is to speak well of the man in her presence; the kraal conspire to praise him--her sisters praise him--all the admirers of his cattle praise him--he was never so praised before. Unless she is very resolute, the girl may now perhaps be prevailed on to see him, and a messenger is despatched to communicate the hopeful fact, and summon him to the kraal. Without loss of time he prepares to show himself to the best advantage; he goes down to the river, and having carefully washed his dark person, comes up again dripping and shining like a dusky Triton; but the sun soon dries his skin, and now he shines again with grease.

“His dancing attire is put on, a vessel of water serving for a mirror; and thus clothed in his best, and carrying shield and assagai, he sets forth, with beating heart and gallant step, to do battle with the scornful belle. Having reached the kraal he is received with a hearty welcome, and squatting down in the family ‘circle’ (which is here something more than a figure of speech), he awaits the lady’s appearance. Presently she comes, and sitting down near the door stares at him in silence. Then having surveyed him sufficiently in his present attitude, she desires him through her brother (for she will not speak to him) to stand up and exhibit his proportions. The modest man is embarrassed; but the mother encourages him, and while the young ones laugh and jeer, he rises before the damsel. She now scrutinizes him in this position, and having balanced the merits and defects of a front view, desires him (through the same medium as before) to turn round and favor her with a different aspect. (See page 97.) At length he receives permission to squat again, when she retires as mute as she came. The family troop rush after her impatient to learn her decision; but she declines to be hasty--she has not seen him walk, and perhaps he limps. So, next morning, the unfortunate man appears in the cattle fold, to exhibit his paces before a larger assembly. A volley of praises is showered upon him by the interested spectators; and perhaps the girl has come to think as they think, and signifies her approval. In this case, arrangements are made for the betrothal.”

This amusing ceremony has two meanings--the first, that the contract of marriage is a voluntary act on both sides; and the second, that the intending bridegroom has as yet no authority over her. This last point seems to be thought of some importance, as it is again brought forward when the marriage ceremony takes place. That the girl has no choice in a husband is evidently not true. There are, of course, instances in Kaffirland, as well as in more civilized countries, where the parents have set their hearts on a particular alliance, and have disregarded the aversion of their daughters, forcing her by hard words and other cruelties to consent to the match. But, as a general rule, although a girl must be bought with a certain number of cows, it does not at all follow that every one with the requisite means may buy her.

A rather amusing proof to the contrary is related by one of our clergy who resided for a long time among the Kaffir tribes. There was one “boy,” long past the prime of life, who had distinguished himself in war, and procured a fair number of cows, and yet could not be ranked as a “man,” because he was not married. The fact was, he was so very ugly that he could not find any of the dusky beauties who would accept him, and so he had to remain a bachelor in spite of himself. At last the king took compassion on him, and authorized him to assume the head-ring, and take brevet rank among the men, or “ama-doda,” just as among ourselves an elderly maiden lady is addressed by courtesy as if she had been married. Sometimes a suitor’s heart misgives him, and he fears that, in spite of his wealth and the costly ornaments with which he adorns his dark person, the lady may not be propitious. In this case he generally goes to a witch doctor and purchases a charm, which he hopes will cause her to relent. The charm is sometimes a root, or a piece of wood, bone, metal, or horn, worn about the person, but it most usually takes the form of a powder. This magic powder is given to some trusty friend, who mixes it surreptitiously in the girl’s food, sprinkles it on her dress, or deposits it in her snuff box, and shakes it up with the legitimate contents.

Not unfrequently, when a suitor is very much disliked, and has not the good sense to withdraw his claims, the girl takes the matter into her own hands by running away, often to another tribe. There is always a great excitement in these cases, and the truant is hunted by all her relations. One of these flights took place when a girl had been promised to the ill-favored bachelor who has just been mentioned. He offered a chief a considerable number of cattle for one of his wards, and paid the sum in advance, hoping so to clench the bargain. But when the damsel found who her husband was to be, she flatly refused to marry so ugly a man. Neither cajolements, threats, nor actual violence had any effect, and at last she was tied up with ropes and handed over to her purchaser. He took her to his home, but in a few hours she contrived to make her escape, and fled for refuge to the kraal of a neighboring chief, where it is to be hoped she found a husband more to her taste. Her former possessor declined to demand her back again, inasmuch as she had been paid for and delivered honorably, and on the same grounds he declined to return the price paid for her. So the unfortunate suitor lost not only his cattle but his wife.

This man was heartily ashamed of his bachelor condition, and always concealed it as much as he could. One day, an Englishman who did not know his history asked him how many wives he had; and, although he knew that the falsehood of his answer must soon be detected, he had not moral courage to say that he was a bachelor, and named a considerable number of imaginary wives.

Now that the English have established themselves in Southern Africa, it is not at all an unusual circumstance for a persecuted girl to take refuge among them, though in many instances she has to be given up to her relations when they come to search for her.

Sometimes the young damsel not only exercises the right of refusal, but contrives to choose a husband for herself. In one such instance a man had fallen into poverty, and been forced to become a dependant. He had two unmarried daughters, and his chief proposed to buy them. The sum which he offered was so small that the father would not accept it, and there was in consequence a violent quarrel between the chief and himself. Moreover, the girls themselves had not the least inclination to become wives of the chief, who already had plenty, and they refused to be purchased, just as their father refused to accept so niggardly a sum for them. The chief was very angry, went off to Panda, and contrived to extort an order from the king that the girls should become the property of the chief at the price which he had fixed. The girls were therefore taken to the kraal, but they would not go into any of the huts, and sat on the ground, much to the annoyance of their new owner, who at last had them carried into a hut by main force. One of the girls, named Uzinto, contrived ingeniously to slip unperceived from the hut at dead of night, and escaped from the kraal by creeping through the fence, lest the dogs should be alarmed if she tried to open the door. In spite of the dangers of night-travelling, she pushed on toward Natal as fast as she could, having nothing with her but the sleeping mat which a Kaffir uses instead of a bed, and which can be rolled up into a cylinder and slung over the shoulders. On her way she met with two adventures, both of which nearly frustrated her plan. At the dawn of the day on which she escaped, she met a party of men, who saw tears in her face, and taxed her with being a fugitive. However, she was so ready with the answer that she had been taking snuff (the Kaffir snuff always makes the eyes water profusely), that they allowed her to proceed on her journey.

The next was a more serious adventure. Having come to the territories of the Amakoba tribe, she went into a kraal for shelter at night, and the inhabitants, who knew the quarrel between her father and the chief, first fed her hospitably, and then tied her hand and foot, and sent off a messenger to the chief from whom she had escaped. She contrived, however, to get out of the kraal, but was captured again by the women. She was so violent with them, and her conduct altogether so strange, that they were afraid of her, and let her go her own way. From that time she avoided all dwellings, and only travelled through the bush, succeeding in fording the Tugela river at the end of the fourth day, thus being out of Panda’s power. Her reason for undertaking this long and perilous journey was twofold; first, that she might escape from a husband whom she did not like, and secondly, that she might obtain a husband whom she did. For in the Natal district was living a young man with whom she had carried on some love-passages, and who, like herself, was a fugitive from his own land. After some difficulty, she was received as a dependant of a chief, and was straightway asked in marriage by two young men. She would have nothing to say to them, but contrived to find out her former lover. Then followed an absurd series of scenes, too long to be narrated in detail.

First the young man was rather cool toward her, and so she went off in a huff, and would not speak to him. Then he went after her, but was only repulsed for his pains. Then they met while the chief’s corn was being planted, and made up the quarrel, but were espied by the chief, and both soundly beaten for idling instead of working. Then he fell ill, and she went to see him, but would not speak a word. Then he got well, and they had another quarrel, which was unexpectedly terminated by Uzinto insisting on being married. The young man objected that he did not know how many cows the chief would want for her, and that he had not enough to pay for a wife. She was equal to the occasion, however, fixed her own value at ten cows, and ordered him to work hard until he had earned them. Meanwhile her protector had made up his mind to take her for his own wife, thinking it a good opportunity to gain another wife without paying for her. Uzinto, however, had not gone through so much to lose the husband on whom she had set her heart, and she went to the young man’s kraal, appeared before the headman, and demanded to be instantly betrothed. He naturally feared the anger of the chief, and sent her back again to his kraal, where, with tears, sulking fits, anger fits, and threats of suicide, she worried all the inmates so completely, that they yielded the point for the sake of peace and quietness, accepted four cows from the lover as an instalment of the required ten, and so married her to him at last.

There is another instance, where a girl fell ardently in love with a young Kaffir chief, as he was displaying his agility in a dance. He did not even know her, and was rather surprised when she presented herself at his kraal, and avowed the state of her affections. He, however, did not return them, and as the girl refused to leave his kraal, he was obliged to send for her brother, who removed her by force. She soon made her way back again, and this time was severely beaten for her pertinacity. The stripes had no effect upon her; and in less than a week she again presented herself. Finding that his sister was so determined, the brother suggested that the too-fascinating chief had better marry the girl, and so end the dispute; and the result was that at last the lady gained her point, the needful cows were duly paid to the brother, and the marriage took place.

Even after marriage, there are many instances where the wife has happened to possess an intellect far superior to that of her husband, and where she has gained a thorough ascendancy over him, guiding him in all his transactions, whether of peace or war. And it is only just to say that in these rare instances of feminine supremacy, the husband has submitted to his wife’s guidance through a conviction that it was exercised judiciously, and not through any weakness of character on his own part, or ill-temper on hers.

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X. MARRIAGE--Concluded

WEDDING CEREMONIES -- PROCESSION OF THE BRIDE -- THE WEDDING DRESS -- THE OXEN -- THE WEDDING DANCE -- MUTUAL DEPRECIATION AND ENCOURAGEMENT -- ADVICE TO THE BRIDEGROOM -- MUTUAL RELATIONS OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES -- A KAFFIR PETRUCHIO -- THE OX OF THE GIRL -- UZINTO AGAIN -- THE OX OF THE SURPLUS -- ITS IMPORT -- VARIETIES OF MARRIAGE CEREMONIES -- POWER OF DIVORCE -- COMPARISON OF THE KAFFIR AND MOSAIC LAWS -- IRRESPONSIBLE AUTHORITY OF THE HUSBAND -- CURIOUS CODE OF ETIQUETTE -- KAFFIR NAMES, AND MODES OF CHOOSING THEM -- THE BIRTH-NAME AND THE SURNAMES -- SUPERSTITIONS RESPECTING THE BIRTH-NAME -- AN AMUSING STRATAGEM -- THE SURNAMES, OR PRAISE-NAMES -- HOW EARNED AND CONFERRED -- VARIOUS PRAISE-NAMES OF PANDA -- A KAFFIR BOASTER -- SONG IN PRAISE OF PANDA -- THE ALLUSIONS EXPLAINED -- A STRANGE RESTRICTION, AND MODE OF EVADING IT -- INFERIOR POSITION OF WOMEN -- WOMEN WITH FIREWOOD -- DIFFERENCE BETWEEN GIRLS OF VARIOUS RANKS.

When the marriage-day is fixed, a ceremonial takes place, differing in detail according to the wealth of the parties, but similar in all the principal points. The bride, decked in all the beads and other finery that she can muster, proceeds in a grand procession to the kraal of her future husband. Her head is shaved with an assagai before she starts, the little tuft of hair on the top of her bare pate is rubbed with red paint, and dressed with various appliances, until it stands on end, and the odd little tuft looks as much as possible like a red shaving brush, with very short, diverging bristles. She is escorted by all her young friends, and is accompanied by her mother and many other married women of the tribe, all bedizened to the utmost. Her male relatives and friends make a point of joining the procession, also dressed in their best, but each bearing his shield and a bundle of assagais, so as to guard the bride against enemies. She then seats herself, surrounded by her companions, outside the kraal.

About this period of the ceremony there is generally a considerable amount of by-play respecting certain oxen, which have to be given by the bridegroom and the father of the bride. The former is called the “Ukutu” ox, which is given to the mother of the bride by the bridegroom. The word “Ukutu” literally signifies the leathern thongs which are hung about the bodies of children by way of charms, and the present of the ox to the mother is made in order to reimburse her for the expenditure in thongs during her daughter’s childhood. The mother does not keep the ox, but slaughters it and dresses it for the marriage feast, and by the time that the wedding has been fairly begun, the Ukutu ox is ready for the guests.

Another ox, called by the curious name of “Umquoliswa,” is given by the bridegroom to the girl’s father, and about this there is much ceremony, as is narrated by Mr. Shooter. “The day having considerably advanced, the male friends of the bride go to the bridegroom’s kraal to claim the ox called Umquoliswa. In a case which I witnessed, they proceeded in a long file, with a step difficult to describe, being a sort of slow and measured stamping, an imitation of their dancing movement. Wearing the dress and ornaments previously mentioned as appropriated to occasions of festivity, they brandished shields and sticks, the usual accompaniment of a wedding dance; while their tongues were occupied with a monotonous and unsentimental chant--

“‘Give us the Umquoliswa, We desire the Umquoliswa.’

“In this way they entered the kraal, and, turning to the right, reached the principal hut. The father of the girl now called upon the bridegroom, who was inside, to come forth and give them the Umquoliswa. The latter replied that he had no ox to present to them. He was then assured that the bride would be taken home; but he remained invisible until other members of the party had required him to appear. Having left the house, he hurried to the gateway, and attempted to pass it. His exit, however, was barred by a company of women already in possession of the entrance, while a smile on his face showed that his efforts to escape were merely formal, and that he was going through an amusing ceremony. The Umquoliswa was now fetched from the herd, and given to the bride’s party, who were bivouacking under the lee of a clump of bush. Her sisters affected to despise it as a paltry thing, and bade the owner produce a better. He told them that it was the largest and the fattest that he could procure; but they were not satisfied--they would not eat it. Presently, the father put an end to their noisy by-play, and accepted the beast. The bride then ran toward the kraal, and after a while the dances commenced.”

The dances are carried on with the violent, and almost furious energy that seems to take possession of a Kaffir’s soul when engaged in the dance, the arms flourishing sticks, shields, and spears, while the legs are performing marvellous feats of activity. First, the bridegroom and his companions seat themselves in the cattle pen, and refresh themselves copiously with beer, while the party of the bride dances before him. The process is then reversed, the bride sitting down, and her husband’s party dancing before her. Songs on both sides accompany the dance.

The girl is addressed by the matrons belonging to the bridegroom’s party, who depreciate her as much as possible, telling her that her husband has given too many cows for her, that she will never be able to do a married woman’s work, that she is rather plain than otherwise, and that her marriage to the bridegroom is a wonderful instance of condescension on his part. This cheerful address is intended to prevent her from being too much elated by her translation from the comparative nonentity of girlhood to the honorable post of a Zulu matron.

Perfect equity, however, reigns; and when the bride’s party begin to dance and sing, they make the most of their opportunity. Addressing the parents, they congratulate them on the possession of such a daughter, but rather condole with them on the very inadequate number of cows which the bridegroom has paid. They tell the bride that she is the most lovely girl in the tribe, that her conduct has been absolute perfection, that the husband is quite unworthy of her, and ought to be ashamed of himself for making such a hard bargain with her father. Of course neither party believes a word that is said, but everything in Kaffirland must be conducted with the strictest etiquette.

After each dance, the leader--usually the father--addresses a speech to the contracted couple; and, if the bridegroom be taking a wife for the first time, the quantity of good advice that is heaped upon him by the more experienced would be very useful if he were likely to pay any attention to it. He is told that, being a bachelor, he cannot know how to manage a wife, and is advised not to make too frequent use of the stick, by way of gaining obedience. Men, he is told, can manage any number of wives without using personal violence; but boys are apt to be too hasty with their hands. The husband of Uzinto, whose adventures have already been related, made a curious stipulation when thus addressed, and promised not to beat her if she did not beat him. Considering the exceedingly energetic character of the girl, this was rather a wise condition to make.

All these preliminaries being settled, the bridegroom seats himself on the ground while the bride dances before him. While so doing, she takes the opportunity of calling him by opprobrious epithets, kicks dust in his face, disarranges his elegant headdress, and takes similar liberties by way of letting him know that he is not her master yet. After she is married she will take no such liberties.

Then another ox comes on the scene, the last, and most important of all. This is called the Ox of the Girl, and has to be presented by the bridegroom.

It must here be mentioned that, although the bridegroom seems to be taxed rather heavily for the privilege of possessing a wife, the tax is more apparent than real. In the first place, he considers that all these oxen form part of the price which he pays for the wife in question, and looks upon them much in the same light that householders regard the various taxes that the occupier of a house has to pay--namely, a recognized addition to the sum demanded for the property. The Kaffir husband considers his wife as much a portion of his property as his spear or his kaross, and will sometimes state the point very plainly.

When a missionary was trying to remonstrate with a Kaffir for throwing all the hard work upon his wife and doing nothing at all himself, he answered that she was nothing more or less than his ox, bought and paid for, and must expect to be worked accordingly. His interlocutor endeavored to strengthen his position by mentioning the manner in which Europeans treated their wives, but met with little success in his argument. The Kaffir’s reply was simple enough, and perfectly unanswerable. “White men do not buy their wives, and the two cases are not parallel.” In fact, a Kaffir husband’s idea of a wife does not differ very far from that of Petruchio, although the latter did happen to be an European--

“I will be master of what is mine own; She is my goods, my chattels, she is my house, My household stuff, my field, my barn, My horse, my ox, my ass, my anything.”

And the Kaffir wife’s idea of a husband is practically that of the tamed Katherine--

“Thy husband is thy lord, thy keeper, Thy head, thy sovereign”--

though she could by no manner of means finish the speech with truth, and say that he labors for her while she abides at home at ease, and asks no other tribute but obedience and love. The former portion of that tribute is exacted; the latter is not so rare as the circumstances seem to denote.

The sums which a Kaffir pays for his wife he considers as property invested by himself, and expected to return a good interest in the long run, and, as has already been mentioned, there are often circumstances under which he takes credit for the amount, and expects to be repaid. So, although a bridegroom is obliged to part with certain cattle on the occasion of his wedding, he keeps a very accurate mental account of them, and is sure to repay himself in one way or another.

After the Ox of the Girl has been furnished, it is solemnly slaughtered, and this constitutes the binding portion of the marriage. Up to that time the father or owner of the girl might take her back again, of course returning the cattle that had been paid for her, as well as those which had been presented and slaughtered. Our heroine, Uzinto, afforded an example of this kind. The bridegroom had a natural antipathy to the chief, who had tried to marry the lady by force, and showed his feelings by sending the very smallest and thinnest ox that could be found. The chief remonstrated at this insult, and wanted to annul the whole transaction. In this he might have succeeded, but for a curious coincidence. The father of the bride had finally quarrelled with his chief, and had been forced to follow the example of his daughter and her intended husband, and to take refuge in Natal. Just at the wedding he unexpectedly made his appearance, and found himself suddenly on the way to wealth. His daughter was actually being married to a man who had engaged to pay ten cows for her. So he did not trouble himself in the least about the size of the ox that was to be slaughtered, but accepted the animal, and accordingly became owner of the cows in question, minus those which had to be paid as honorary gifts to the disappointed chief and the successful lover.

After the ceremonies are over, the husband takes his wife home, the character of that home being dependent on his rank and wealth. But when the couple have fairly taken up their abode, the father or previous owner of the wife always sends one ox to her husband. This ox is called the Ox of the Surplus, and represents several ideas. In the first place it is supposed to imply that the girl’s value very far exceeds that of any number of oxen which can be given for her, and is intended to let the bridegroom know that he is not to think too much of himself. Next, it is an admission on the father’s side that he is satisfied with the transaction, and that when he dies he will not avenge himself by haunting his daughter’s household, and so causing the husband to be disappointed in his wishes for a large family of boys and girls, the first to be warriors and extend the power of his house, and the second to be sold for many cows and increase his wealth. So curiously elaborate are the customs of the Kaffirs, that when this Ox of the Surplus enters the kraal of the husband it is called by another name, and is then entitled “The Ox that opens the Cattle-fold.” The theory of this name is, that the husband has paid for his wife all his oxen, and that in consequence the cattle-fold is empty. But the ox that she brings with her reopens the gate of the fold, and is looked upon as an earnest of the herds that are to be purchased with the daughters which she may have in the course of her married life. These curious customs strongly remind us of the old adage respecting the counting of chickens before they are hatched, but the Kaffir seems to perform that premature calculation in more ways than one.

The reader will understand that these minute and complicated ceremonies are not always observed in precisely the same manner. In many cases, especially when the Kaffirs have lived for any length of time under the protection of white men, there is very little, if any ceremony; the chief rites being the arrangement with the girl’s owner or father, the delivery of the cattle, and the transfer of the purchased girl to the kraal of her husband. Moreover, it is very difficult for white men to be present at Kaffir ceremonies, and in many cases the Kaffirs will pretend that there is no ceremony at all, in order to put their interrogators off the track. The foregoing account is, however, a tolerably full description of the ceremonies that are, or have been, practised by the great Zulu tribe.

A marriage thus made is considered quite as binding as any ceremony among ourselves, and the Kaffir may not put away his wife except for causes that are considered valid by the councillors of the tribe. Infidelity is, of course, punished by instant dismissal of the unfaithful wife, if not by her death, the latter fate invariably befalling the erring wife of a chief. As for the other culprit, the aggrieved husband has him at his mercy, and sometimes puts him to death, but sometimes commutes that punishment for a heavy fine. Constant and systematic disobedience is also accepted as a valid cause of divorce, and so is incorrigible idleness. The process of reasoning is, that the husband has bought the woman in order to perform certain tasks for him. If she refuses to perform them through disobedience, or omits to perform them through idleness, it is clear that he has paid his money for a worthless article, and is therefore entitled to return her on the hands of the vendor, and to receive back a fair proportion of the sum which he has paid. Sometimes she thinks herself ill treated, and betakes herself to the kraal of her father. In this case, the father can keep her by paying back the cattle which he has received for her; and if there should be any children, the husband retains them as hostages until the cattle have been delivered. He then transfers them to the mother, to whom they rightly belong.

Another valid cause of divorce is the misfortune of a wife being childless. The husband expects that she shall be a fruitful wife, and that his children will add to his power and wealth; and if she does not fulfil this expectation, he is entitled to a divorce. Generally, he sends the wife to the kraal of her father, who propitiates the spirits of her ancestors by the sacrifice of an ox, and begs them to remove the cause of divorce. She then goes back to her husband, but if she should still continue childless, she is sent back to her father, who is bound to return the cattle which he has received for her. Sometimes, however, a modification of this system is employed, and the father gives, in addition to the wife, one of her unmarried sisters, who, it is hoped, may better fulfil the wishes of the husband. The father would rather follow this plan than consent to a divorce, because he then retains the cattle, and to give up a single ox causes pangs of sorrow in a Kaffir’s breast. Should the sister become a fruitful wife, one or two of the children are transferred to the former wife, and ever afterward considered as belonging to her house.

All these details remind the observer of similar details in the Mosaic law of marriage, and, in point of fact, the social condition of the Kaffir of the present day is not very different from that of the Israelite when the Law was first promulgated through the great legislator. Many of the customs are identical, and in others there is a similitude that is almost startling. But, as far as the facility of divorce goes, the Kaffir certainly seems to look upon marriage, even though he may have an unlimited number of wives, with more reverence than did the ancient Israelite, and he would not think of divorcing a wife through a mere caprice of the moment, as was sanctioned by the traditions of the Jews, though not by their divinely given law.

Still, though he does not, as a general rule, think himself justified in such arbitrary divorces, he considers himself gifted with an irresponsible authority over his wives, even to the power of life and death. If, for example, a husband in a fit of passion were to kill his wife--a circumstance that has frequently occurred--no one has any business to interfere in the matter, for, according to his view of the case, she is his property, bought, and paid for, and he has just as much right to kill her as if she were one of his goats or oxen. Her father cannot proceed against the murderer, for he has no further right in his daughter, having sold her and received the stipulated price. The man has, in fact, destroyed valuable property of his own--property which might be sold for cows, and which was expected to work for him, and produce offspring exchangeable for cows. It is thought, therefore, that if he chooses to inflict upon himself so severe a loss, no one has any more right to interfere with him than if he were to kill a number of oxen in a fit of passion. Sometimes, however, the chief has been known to take such a matter in hand, and to fine the delinquent in a cow or two for destroying a valuable piece of property, which, though his own, formed a unit in the strength of the tribe, and over which he, as the acknowledged father of the tribe, had a jurisdiction. But, even in such rare instances, his interference, although it would be made ostensibly for the sake of justice, would in reality be an easy mode of adding to his own wealth by confiscating the cattle which he demanded as a fine from the culprit.

Between married persons and their relatives a very singular code of etiquette prevails. In the first place, a man is not allowed to marry any one to whom he is related by blood. He may marry two or more sisters, provided that they come from a different family from his own, but he may not take a wife who descended from his own immediate ancestors. But, like the ancient Hebrews, a man may not only marry the wife of a deceased brother, but considers himself bound to do so in justice to the woman, and to the children of his brother, who then become to all intents and purposes his own.

The peculiar etiquette which has been mentioned lies in the social conduct of those who are related to each other by marriage and not by blood. After a man is married, he may not speak familiarly to his wife’s mother, nor even look upon her face, and this curious custom is called “being ashamed of the mother-in-law.” If he wishes to speak to her, he must retire to some distance, and carry on his communication by shouting: which, as has been truly said, is certainly no hardship to a Kaffir. Or, if the communication be of a nature that others ought not to hear, the etiquette is thought to be sufficiently observed provided that the two parties stand at either side of a fence over which they cannot see.

If, as is often the case, the man and his mother-in-law happen to meet in one of the narrow paths that lead from the kraal to the gardens and cultivated fields, they must always pretend not to see each other. The woman generally looks out for a convenient bush, and crouches behind it, while the man carefully holds his shield to his face. So far is this peculiar etiquette carried that neither the man nor his mother-in-law is allowed to mention the name of the other. This prohibition must in all places be exceedingly awkward, but it is more so in Kaffirland, where the name which is given to each individual is sure to denote some mental or physical attribute, or to be the name of some natural object which is accepted as the embodiment of that attribute.

Supposing, then, that the name of the man signified a house, and that the name of his mother-in-law signified a cow, it is evident that each must be rather embarrassed in ordinary conversation. Persons thus situated always substitute some other word for that which they are forbidden to pronounce, and that substitution is always accepted by the friends. Curiously circumlocutory terms are thus invented, and very much resemble the euphemisms which prevail both in Northern America and Northern Europe. In such a case as has been mentioned, the man might always speak of a cow as the “horned one,” and the woman would use the word “dwelling” or “habitation” instead of “house.”

As, moreover, a man has generally a considerable number of mothers-in-law, it is evident that this rule must sometimes be productive of much inconvenience, and cause the memory to be always on the stretch. How such a man as Panda, who has at least a thousand mothers-in-law, contrives to carry on conversation at all, is rather perplexing. Perhaps he is considered to be above the law, and that his words are as irresponsible as his actions. The reader may perhaps remember that a similar custom prevails throughout the greater part of Polynesia.

The wife, again, is interdicted from pronouncing the name of her husband, or that of any of his brothers. This seems as if she would be prevented from speaking to him in familiar terms, but such is not really the case. The fact is, that every Kaffir has more than one name; and the higher the rank, the greater the number of names. At birth, or soon afterward, a name is given to the child, and this name has always reference to some attribute which the child is desired to possess, or to some circumstance which has occurred at the time.

For example, a child is sometimes called by the name of the day on which it is born, just as Robinson Crusoe called his servant Friday. If a wild beast, such as a lion or a jackal, were heard to roar at the time when the child was born, the circumstance would be accepted as an omen, and the child called by the name of the beast, or by a word which represents its cry. Mr. Shooter mentions some rather curious examples of these names. If the animal which was heard at the time of the child’s birth were the hyæna, which is called impisi by the natives, the name of the child might be either U’mpisi, or U-huhu, the second being an imitative sound representing the laugh-like cry of the hyæna. A boy whose father prided himself on the number of his stud, which of course would be very much increased when his son inherited them, called the child “Uso-mahashe,” i. e. the father of horses. This child became afterward a well-known chief in the Natal district. A girl, again, whose mother had been presented with a new hoe just before her daughter was born, called the girl “Uno-ntsimbi,” i. e. the daughter of iron. The name of Panda, the king of the Zulu tribes, is in reality “U-mpande,” a name derived from “impande,” a kind of root.

These birth-names are known by the title “igama,” and it is only to them that the prohibitive custom extends. In the case of a chief, his igama may not be spoken by any belonging to his kraal; and in the case of a king, the law extends to all his subjects. Thus, a Kaffir will not only refuse to speak of Panda by his name, but when he has occasion to speak of the root impande, he substitutes another word, and calls it “ingxabo.”

A Kaffir does not like that a stranger should even hear his igama, for he has a hazy sort of idea that the knowledge might be used for some evil purpose. One of my friends, who lived in Kaffirland for some years, and employed a considerable number of the men, never could induce any of them to tell him their igama, and found that they would always prefer to be called by some English name, such as Tom, or Billy. At last, when he had attained a tolerable idea of the language, he could listen to their conversation, and so find out the real names by which they addressed each other. When he had mastered these names, he took an opportunity of addressing each man by his igama, and frightened them exceedingly. On hearing the word spoken, they started as if they had been struck, and laid their hands on their mouths in horrified silence. The very fact that the white man had been able to gain the forbidden knowledge affected them with so strong an idea of his superiority that they became very obedient servants.

In addition to the igama, the Kaffir takes other names, always in praise of some action that he has performed, and it is thought good manners to address him by one or more of these titles. This second name is called the “isi-bonga,” a word which is derived from “uku-bonga,” to praise. In Western Africa, a chief takes, in addition to his ordinary name, a whole series of “strong-names,” all allusive to some portion of his history. Sometimes, the isi-bonga is given to him by others. For example, as soon as a boy is enrolled among the youths, his parents give him an isi-bonga; and when he assumes the head-ring of manhood, he always assumes another praise-name. If a man distinguishes himself in battle, his comrades greet him by an isi-bonga, by which he is officially known until he earns another. On occasions of ceremony he is always addressed by one or more of these praise-names; and if he be visited by an inferior, the latter stands outside his hut, and proclaims aloud as many of his titles as he thinks suitable for the occasion. It is then according to etiquette to send a present of snuff, food, and drink to the visitor, who again visits the hut, and recommences his proclamation, adding more titles as an acknowledgment of the chief’s liberality.

A king has, of course, an almost illimitable number of isi-bongas, and really to learn them all in order requires a memory of no mean order. Two or three of them are therefore selected for ordinary use, the remainder being reserved for the heralds whose peculiar office it is to recite the praises of their monarch. Panda, for example, is usually addressed as “O Elephant.” This is merely a symbolical isi-bonga, and is given to the king as admitting him to be greatest among men as the elephant is greatest among beasts. In one sense it is true enough, the elephantine proportions of Panda quite justifying such an allusion. This title might be given to any very great man, but it is a convenient name by which the king may be called, and therefore by this name he is usually addressed in council and on parade.

For example, Mr. Shooter recalls a little incident which occurred during a review by Panda. The king turned to one of the “boys,” and asked how he would behave if he met a white man in battle? Never was there a more arrant coward than this “boy,” but boasting was safe, and springing to his feet he spoke like a brave: “Yes, O Elephant! You see me! I’ll go against the white man. His gun is nothing. I’ll rush upon him quickly before he has time to shoot, or I’ll stoop down to avoid the ball. See how I’ll kill him!” and forthwith his stick did the work of an assagai on the body of an imaginary European. Ducking to avoid a bullet, and then rushing in before the enemy had time to reload, was a very favorite device with the Kaffir warriors, and answered very well at first. But their white foes soon learned to aim so low that all the ducking in the world could not elude the bullet, while the more recent invention of revolvers and breech-loaders has entirely discomfited this sort of tactics.

In a song in honor of Panda, a part of which has already been quoted, a great number of isi-bongas are introduced. It will be therefore better to give the song entire, and to explain the various allusions in their order. It must be remembered that in his earlier days Panda, whose life was originally spared by Dingan, when he murdered Tchaka and the rest of the family, was afterward obliged to flee before him, and very ingeniously contrived to get off safely across the river by watching his opportunity while the army of Dingan was engaged in another direction. He then made an alliance with the white men, brought a large force against Dingan, and conquered him, driving him far beyond the boundaries, and ending by having himself proclaimed as King of the Zulu tribes. This fight took place at the Makonko, and was witnessed by Panda’s wife, who came from Mankebe. The various praise-names of Panda, or the isi-bongas, are marked by being printed in italics.

“1. Thou brother of the Tchakas, considerate forder,

2. A swallow which fled in the sky;

3. A swallow with a whiskered breast;

4. Whose cattle was ever in so huddled a crowd,

5. They stumbled for room when they ran.

6. Thou false adorer of the valor of another,

7. That valor thou tookest at the battle of Makonko.

8. Of the stock of N’dabazita, ramrod of brass,

9. Survivor alone of all other rods;

10. Others they broke and left this in the soot,

11. Thinking to burn it some rainy cold day.

12. Thigh of the bullock of Inkakavini,

13. Always delicious if only ’tis roasted,

14. It will always be tasteless if boiled.

15. The woman from Mankebe is delighted;

16. She has seen the leopards of Jama

17. Fighting together between the Makonko.

18. He passed between the Jutuma and Ihliza,

19. The Celestial who thundered between the Makonko.

20. I praise thee, O king! son of Jokwane, the son of Undaba,

21. The merciless opponent of every conspiracy.

22. Thou art an elephant, an elephant, an elephant.

23. All glory to thee, thou monarch who art black.”

The first isi-bonga in line 1, alludes to the ingenuity with which Panda succeeded in crossing the river, so as to escape out of the district where Dingan exercised authority. In the second line, “swallow which fled in the sky,” is another allusion to the secrecy with which he managed his flight, which left no more track than the passage of a swallow through the air. Lines 4 and 5 allude to the wealth, i. e. the abundance of cattle, possessed by Panda. Line 6 asserts that Panda was too humble-minded, and thought more of the power of Dingan than it deserved; while line 7 offers as proof of this assertion that when they came to fight Panda conquered Dingan. Lines 8 to 11 all relate to the custom of seasoning sticks by hanging them over the fireplaces in Kaffir huts. Line 14 alludes to the fact that meat is very seldom roasted by the Kaffirs, but is almost invariably boiled, or rather stewed, in closed vessels. In line 15 the “woman from Mankebe” is Panda’s favorite wife. In line 19, “The Celestial” alludes to the name of the great Zulu tribe over which Panda reigned; the word “Zulu” meaning celestial, and having much the same import as the same word when employed by the Chinese to denote their origin. Line 21 refers to the attempts of Panda’s rivals to dethrone him, and the ingenious manner in which he contrived to defeat their plans by forming judicious alliances. Line 22 reiterates the chief isi-bonga by which he is orally addressed, and the words “Monarch who art black” have already been explained at p. 12, when treating of the appearance of the Kaffir tribes.

As is the case in many countries, when a man has his first-born son presented to him he takes as a new isi-bonga the name of the son, with that of “father” prefixed to it; while, on the other hand, if his father should happen to be a man of peculiar eminence he takes as a praise-name that of his father, with the word “son” prefixed. It will be seen, therefore, that while the original name, or igama, is permanent, though very seldom mentioned, his isi-bonga, or praise-name, is continually changing.

Fortunately, the Zulu language is complex in its structure, and its purity is jealously preserved by the continual councils which are held, and the displays of oratory which always accompany them. Otherwise, this curious custom of substituting arbitrarily one word for another might have an extremely injurious effect on the language, as has indeed been the case in the countries where a similar custom prevails, and in which the language has changed so completely that the natives who had left their own country, and returned after a lapse of some thirty years, would scarcely be able to make themselves understood, even though they had perfectly retained the language as it was when they last spoke it in their own land.

There is a curious regulation among the Kaffirs, that a man is not allowed to enter the hut in which either of his son’s wives may be. If he wishes to enter he gives notice, and she retires. But, when he is in possession of the hut, she is placed at equal disadvantage, and cannot enter her own house until he has left it. This rule, however, is seldom kept in all its strictness, and indeed such literal obedience is hardly possible, because the eldest son very seldom leaves his father’s kraal until he has married at least two wives. In consequence of the great practical inconvenience of this rule, the Kaffirs have contrived to evade it, although they have not openly abandoned it. The father-in-law presents an ox to his son’s wife, and in consideration of this liberality, she frees him from the obligation of this peculiar and troublesome courtesy. The native name for this custom is “uku-hlonipa.”

From what has been said, it is evident that women hold a very inferior position among the Kaffirs, and are looked upon quite as if they were cattle; liable, like cattle, to be bought and sold. A Kaffir never dreams that he and his wife are on terms of the least equality, or that he does not deserve praise at her hand for his condescension in marrying her at all. A man will scarcely condescend to notice the women of his own household. If they go out on their several labors, they go their several ways. Supposing, for example, that a man were to cut sticks for firing, or poles for the support of a new house; his wives, in going to the same spot, would be careful to choose a different path. When he has cut the wood he walks off, leaving his wives to perform the really heavy labor of bringing it home, and no man would ever think of assisting a woman in so menial a labor.

There are now before me several photographs representing women carrying bundles of sticks, and it is wonderful what huge burdens these hard worked women will carry. A man will not even lift the wood upon the head of his wife, but expects that one of her own sex will assist her. Sometimes, when a number of women are returning from wood cutting, walking in single file, as is their custom, a “boy” will take the head of the procession. But he will not degrade himself by carrying so much as a stick, and bears nothing but his weapons, and perhaps a small shield.

The unceremonious manner in which these hard worked women are treated is little less singular than the cheerful acquiescence with which they obey the commands of their sable masters. Once, when Captain Gardiner was visiting Dingan, he was roused long before daybreak by the vociferation of a man who was running through the kraal, and shouting some command in a most peremptory tone. It turned out that Dingan had suddenly taken into his head to build a new kraal, and had ordered all the women into the bush to procure reeds and branches for building purposes. In a few minutes a vast number of female voices were heard uniting in a pleasing melody, which became louder and louder as the numbers of the singers increased on their mustering ground, and then gradually died away in the distance as they moved to the scene of their labors. The bush to which they were sent was ten miles from the kraal, but they went off quite cheerfully, and in the afternoon, when they returned, each bearing a huge bundle of bushes on her head, they were singing the same song, though they had walked so long a distance and so heavily laden. The song does not seem to have possessed much variety, as it chiefly consisted of one line, “Akoosiniki, ingonyama izezewi,” and a chorus of “Haw! haw! haw!” It was probably intended for the same purpose as the tunes played by regimental bands; namely, to enable the party to keep step with each other.

Dingan was so tenacious of the superiority of his own sex that he would never allow his wives to stand in his presence, but made them shuffle about from place to place on their knees.

In consequence of their different habits of life, the men and women hardly seem to belong to the same race. The men, as a rule, are exceptionally fine specimens of humanity; and, despite their high cheek-bones, woolly hair, and thick lips, might serve as models for a sculptor. Their stature is tall, their forms are elastic and muscular, and their step is free and noble, as becomes the gait of warriors. In all these respects they are certainly not inferior to Europeans, and in many are decidedly superior. The women, however, are rather stunted than otherwise: their figures are bowed by reason of the heavy weights which they have to carry, and they rapidly lose that wonderful symmetry of form which distinguished them while still in the bloom of youth. The men preserve their grandeur of demeanor and their bold, intelligent aspect, even until their hair is gray from age, while the elderly Kaffir woman is at best awkward and unsightly, and the old woman irresistibly reminds the observer of an aged and withered monkey.

Exceptions to the general rule are sometimes found. A chief or wealthy man, for example, would take a pride in freeing his daughters and chief wife from the exceptionally hard labor which falls to the lot of the sex in Kaffirland. In the case of the daughters, he is moved quite as much by self-interest as by parental affection. A girl fetches a price commensurate with her appearance, and the very best price is always to be obtained for the best article. The daughter of a poor man, or dependant, is obliged to work hard and live hard; and the natural consequence is, that she has scarcely any real youth, and that her form is spoiled by the heavy labors which are imposed upon her at an age when all the bodily powers ought to be employed in adding to the physical energy of her frame. Therefore, when such a girl is old enough to be married, she is thin, careworn, and coarse, and no one will give very much for her. Indeed, if she should be married, she is perfectly aware that her real post in the kraal of her husband is little more than that of a purchased drudge.

The daughter of a wealthy man, on the contrary, undertakes but little of the really hard work which falls to the lot of her sex; and as she is not only allowed, but encouraged, to eat the most fattening food with as much despatch as possible, it naturally follows that, when compared with the ordinary drudge of every-day life, she is by far the more prepossessing, and her father is sure to obtain a very much higher price for her than would have been the case if she had been forced to do hard labor. Thus the three great requisites of a Kaffir girl are, that she should be fat, strong, and have a tolerably good-looking face. This last qualification is, however, subordinate to the other two. That she is fat, shows that she has not been prematurely worn out by hard work; and that she is strong, gives promise that she will be able to do plenty of work after her marriage, and that the purchaser will not have reason to think that he has wasted his money.

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XI. WAR--OFFENSIVE WEAPONS

THE KAFFIR MILITARY SPIRIT, HOW GENERATED, AND HOW FOSTERED -- DREAD OF THE UNKNOWN -- ARTILLERY -- ITS MORAL EFFECT ON THE KAFFIR -- NATIVE NAME FOR CANNON -- ORGANIZATION OF THE ARMY -- WEAPONS USED BY THE ZULU TRIBES -- PRIMITIVE FORMATION OF THE SPEAR -- MATERIALS USED FOR SPEAR-HEADS -- ZULU SPEARS, OR “ASSAGAIS” -- THE ZULU AS A BLACKSMITH -- SHAPE OF THE ASSAGAI HEAD -- THE KAFFIR’S PREFERENCE FOR SOFT STEEL -- THE KAFFIR KNIFE AND AXE -- RUST-RESISTING PROPERTY -- THE KAFFIR FORGE AND BELLOWS -- SMELTING IRON -- A KAFFIR CHIEF ASTONISHED -- LE VAILLANT INSTRUCTING THE NATIVES IN THE USE OF THE FORGE -- WIRE-DRAWING AND WORKING IN BRASS -- HOW THE KAFFIR CASTS AND MODELS BRASS -- DIFFICULTIES IN IRON WORKING -- HOW A KAFFIR OBTAINS FIRE -- TEMPER OF ASSAGAI HEADS -- ASSAGAI SHAFTS -- CURIOUS METHOD OF FASTENING THE HEAD TO THE SHAFT -- A REMARKABLE SPECIMEN OF THE ASSAGAI -- HOW THE ASSAGAI IS THROWN -- A KAFFIR CHIEF’S STRATAGEM, AND A CLASSICAL PARALLEL -- THE TWO KINDS OF ASSAGAI -- THE KNOB-KERRY, AND MODE OF USING IT.

If there is any one trait which distinguishes the true Kaffir race, it is the innate genius for warfare. The Kaffir lives from his childhood to his death in an atmosphere of war. Until he is old and wealthy, and naturally desires to keep his possessions in tranquillity, a time of peace is to him a time of trouble. He has no opportunity of working off his superabundant energy; he has plenty of spears which he cannot use against an enemy, and a shield which he can only employ in the dance. He has no chance of distinguishing himself, and so gaining both rank and wealth; and if he be a young bachelor, he cannot hope to be promoted to the rank of “man,” and allowed to marry, for many a long year. It is true, that in a time of war he may be killed; but that is a reflection which does not in the least trouble a Kaffir. For all he knows, he stands in just as great danger of his life in a time of peace. He may unintentionally offend the king; he may commit a breach of discipline which would be overlooked in war time; he may be accused as a wizard, and tortured to death; he may accumulate a few cows, and so excite the cupidity of the chief, who will fine him heavily for something which either he did not do, or which was not of the slightest importance.

Knowing, therefore, that a violent death is quite as likely to befall him in peace as in war, and as in peace he has no chance of gratifying his ambitious feelings, the young Kaffir is all for war. Indeed, had it not been for the judicious councils of the old men, the English Government would have had much more trouble with these tribes than has been the case. Even under Panda’s rule, there have been great dissensions among the army. All agreed in disliking the rule of the English in the Natal district, because Natal formed a refuge for thousands of Kaffirs, most of them belonging to the Zulu tribe, and having fled from the tyranny of Panda; while others belonged to tribes against which Panda had made war, and had fled for protection to the English flag.

The younger warriors, fierce, arrogant, despising the white man because they do not know him, have repeatedly begged to be allowed to invade Natal. They urge, in pursuance of their request, that they will conquer the country, restore to their king all the fugitives who have run away from him, and inflame their own minds, and those of the young and ignorant, by glowing descriptions of the rich spoil which would fall to the conquerors, of the herds of cattle, the tons of beads, the quantities of fire-arms and ammunition, and, in fact, the unlimited supply of everything which a Kaffir’s heart can possibly desire. The older men, however, who have more acquaintance with the white men, and a tolerably good experience of the fact that when a white man fires his gun he generally hits his mark, have always dissuaded their younger and more impetuous comrades from so rash an attempt.

Strangely enough, the argument which has proved most powerful is really a very weak one. The Kaffir, like other men, is brave enough when he can comprehend his danger; but he does not at all like to face a peril which he cannot understand. Like all unknown things, such a peril is indeed terrible to a Kaffir’s mind, and this unknown peril is summed up in the word cannon, or “By-and-by”--to use the native term. Why cannon are so called will presently be mentioned. The Kaffirs have heard that the dreadful By-and-by eats up everything--trees, houses, stones, grass; and, as they justly argue, it is very likely to eat up Kaffir soldiers. Of course, in defending a fort against Kaffirs, cannon, loaded with grape and canister, would be of terrible efficacy, and they would be justified in declining to assault any place that was defended with such dreadful weapons. But they do not seem to be aware that guns in a fort and guns in the bush are two very different things, and that, if they could decoy the artillery into the bush, the dreaded weapons would be of scarcely more use than if they were logs of wood. This distinction the Kaffir never seems to have drawn, and the wholesome dread of cannon has done very much to insure tranquillity among the impetuous and self-confident soldiery of Kaffirland.

The odd name of “By-and-by” became attached to the cannon in the following manner:--When the natives first saw some pieces of artillery in the Natal district, they asked what such strange objects could be, and were answered that they would learn “by-and-by.” Further questions, added to the firing of a few shots, gave them such a terror of the “By-and-by,” that they have never liked to match themselves against such weapons.

The Zulu tribes are remarkable for being the only people in that part of Africa who have practised war in an European sense of the word. The other tribes are very good at bush-fighting, and are exceedingly crafty at taking an enemy unawares, and coming on him before he is prepared for them. Guerilla warfare is, in fact, their only mode of waging battle, and, as is necessarily the case in such warfare, more depends on the exertion of individual combatants than on the scientific combination of masses. But the Zulu tribe have, since the time of Tchaka, the great inventor of military tactics, carried on war in a manner approaching the notions of civilization.

Their men are organized into regiments, each subdivided into companies, and each commanded by its own chief, or colonel, while the king, as commanding general, leads his forces to war, disposes them in battle array, and personally directs their movements. They give an enemy notice that they are about to march against him, and boldly meet him in the open field. There is a military etiquette about them which some of our own people have been slow to understand. They once sent a message to the English commander that they would “come and breakfast with him.” He thought it was only a joke, and was very much surprised when the Kaffirs, true to their promise, came pouring like a torrent over the hills, leaving him barely time to get his men under arms before the dark enemies arrived.

As, in Kaffir warfare, much stress is laid upon the weapons, offensive and defensive, with which the troops are armed, it will be necessary to give a description of their weapons before we proceed any further. They are but few and simple, and consist of certain spears, called “assagais,” short clubs, called “kerries,” and shields made of the hides of oxen.

Almost every nation has its distinguishing weapons, or, at all events, one weapon which is held in greater estimation than any other, and which is never used so skilfully as by itself. The Australian savage has the boomerang, a weapon which cannot be used rightly except by an Australian. Many Europeans can throw it so as to make it perform some trifling evolution in the air, but there are none who can really use it as an efficient weapon or instrument of hunting. The Dyak has his sumpitan, and the Macoushie Indian his analogous weapon, the zarabatana, through which are blown the tiny poisoned arrows, a hundred of which can be held in the hand, and each one of which has death upon its point. The Ghoorka has his kookery, the heavy curved knife, with which he will kill a tiger in fair fight, and boldly attack civilized soldiers in spite of their more elaborate arms. Then the Sikh has the strange quoit weapon, or chakra, which skims through the air or ricochets from the ground, and does frightful execution on the foe. The Esquimaux have their harpoons, which will serve either for catching seals or assaulting the enemy. The Polynesians have their terrible swords and gauntlets armed with the teeth of sharks, each of which cuts like a lancet, and inflicts a wound which, though not dangerous by itself, becomes so when multiplied by the score and inflicted on the most sensitive part of the body.

Some of these weapons are peculiar in shape, and are not used in other countries, whereas some are modifications of implements of warfare spread over a great part of the globe, and altered in shape and size to suit the locality. Of such a nature is the special weapon of the Kaffirs inhabiting the Natal district, the slight-looking but most formidable spear or assagai. The spear is one of the simplest of all weapons, the simplest of all excepting the club. In its primitive state the spear is nothing but a stick of greater or lesser length, sharpened at one end. The best example of this primitive spear may be found in Borneo, where the weapon is made in a few minutes by taking a piece of bamboo of convenient length, and cutting off one end diagonally. The next improvement in spear making was to put the pointed end in the fire for a few moments. This process enabled the spear maker to scrape the point more easily, while the charred wood was rendered hard, and capable of resisting damp better than if it had been simply scraped to a point. Spears of this kind are to be found in almost every primitive savage tribe.

A further improvement now takes place. The point is armed with some material harder than wood, which material may be bone, horn, stone, metal, or other similar substance. Some nations arm the heads of their spears with sharp flakes of flint or obsidian. Some tip them with the end of a sharp horn, or even with the claws of a mammal or a bird--the kangaroo, emu, and cassowary being used for this singular purpose. In many parts of the earth, the favorite spears are armed with the teeth of sharks, while others are headed with the tail spine of the sting-ray, which not only penetrates deeply, but breaks into the wound, and always causes death. These additions to the spears, together with others formed of certain marine shells, are necessarily the productions of tribes that inhabit certain islands in the warmer seas. The last and greatest improvement that is made in the manufacture of spears is the abolition of all additions to the head, and making the head itself of metal. For this purpose iron is generally used, partly because it takes a sharp edge, and partly because it can be easily forged into any required shape. The natives of Southern Africa are wonderful proficients in forging iron, and indeed a decided capability for the blacksmith’s art seems to be inherent in the natives of Africa, from north to south and from east to west. None of the tribes can do very much with the iron, but the little which they require is worked in perfection. As is the case with all uncivilized beings, the whole treasures of the art are lavished on their weapons; and so if we wish to see what an African savage can do with iron, we must look at his spears, knives, and arrows--the latter indeed being but spears in miniature.

The heads of the Kaffir’s spears are extremely variable in form, some being a mere spike, but the generality being blade shaped. Very few are barbed, and the ordinary shape is that which is seen several times in the illustration on page 103. Still, wherever the blade is adopted, it has always one peculiarity of structure, whether it be plain or barbed. A raised ridge passes along the centre, and the blade is convex on one side of the ridge, and concave on the other. The reason of this curious structure seems to be twofold. In the first place, it is possible that this structure of the blade acts much as the feathers of an arrow, or the spiral groove on the rifle balls invented by Dr. Croft, and which can be used in smooth bore barrels. Colonel Lane Fox finds that if a thread be tied to the point of an assagai, and the weapon be thrown with great care, so that no revolving force is given by the thrower, the thread is found spirally twisted round the head and shaft by the time that the weapon has touched the ground. That certainly seems to be one reason for the form. Another reason is, that a blade thus shaped can be sharpened very easily, when it becomes blunt. Nothing is needed but to take a flint, or even the back of a common knife, and scrape it along the edge, and, if properly done, a single such scrape will sharpen the weapon afresh. The head is always made of soft iron, and so yields easily to the sharpening process. The reader may remember that the harpoons which we use for whale hunting are always made of the softest iron; were they made of steel, the first furious tug of the whale might snap them, while, if they were to become blunt, they could not be sharpened without much trouble and hard work at the grindstone.

Setting aside the two questions of rotatory motion and convenience of sharpening, it is possible that the peculiar structure of the blade may be owing to the fact that such a structure would produce the greatest amount of strength with the least amount of material. The sword bayonet of the Chassepot rifle is made on a similar principle. Whether the Kaffir is aware of this principle and forges his spear head in accordance with it, is another point. The reader, better informed than the Kaffir, may perhaps remember that the identical principle is carried out in the “corrugated” iron, now in such general use for buildings, roofs, and similar purposes.

Kaffirs have a great fondness for implements made of soft iron, and prefer a knife made of that material to the best blade that Sheffield can produce. They admit that for some purposes the steel blade is superior to their own, but that for ordinary work nothing can compare with the soft iron. The steel blade breaks, and is useless, while the soft iron only bends. Moreover, when they want to scoop out a hollow in a piece of wood, such as the bowl of a spoon, the inflexible steel blade would be nearly useless. But a Kaffir simply takes his soft iron knife, bends it to the requisite curve, and thus can make, at a moment’s notice, a gouge with any degree of curvature. When he has finished his work, he puts the blade on a flat stone, and beats it straight again in a few seconds. The Kaffir knife is not at all like our own, but is shaped just like the head of an assagai. In using it, he grasps the handle just as artists represent assassins holding daggers, and not as we hold knives. He always cuts away from himself, as is shown on page 73, No. 1; and, clumsy as this mode of using a knife may appear, Englishmen have often learned to appreciate it, and to employ it in preference to the ordinary European fashion.

Unfit as would be the tools made by a Kaffir when employed in Europe, those made in Europe and used in Southern Africa are still less useful. Being unacquainted with this fact, both travellers and settlers are apt to spend much money in England upon articles which they afterward find to be without the least value--articles which an experienced settler would not take as a gift. As a familiar example of the difference between the tools required in various countries, the axe may be mentioned. It is well known that, of all the varieties of this tool, the American axe is the best, as it has attained its present superiority by dint of long experience on part of the makers among the vast forests of their country. Emigrants, therefore, almost invariably supply themselves with a few American axes, and in most cases they could not do better. But in Southern Africa this excellent tool is as useless as would be a razor in chipping stones. The peculiar wood of the mimosa, a tree which is used so universally in Southern Africa, is sure to notch the edge of the axe, and in a short time to render it incapable of doing its work; whereas the South African axe, which would be a clumsy and slow working tool in America, can cut down the hardest mimosa without suffering any injury.

There is another reason why a Kaffir prefers his own iron work to that of European make. His own manufacture has the property of resisting damp without rusting. If an European knife or steel tool of the finest quality be left in the open air all night, and by the side of it a Kaffir’s assagai, the former will be covered with rust, while the latter is as bright as ever. Such is the case with those assagais which are brought to England. It is possible that this freedom from rust may be obtained by a process similar to that which is employed in the manufacture of geological hammers, namely, that while the metal is hot, it is plunged into oil, and then hammered. The excellence of the blade is partially owing to the fact that the fire in which the metal is smelted, and afterward heated for the forge, is made of charcoal, so as to convert the iron into a kind of steel. The celebrated “wootz” steel of India is made by placing the iron in small crucibles together with little twigs of certain trees, and then submitting the crucible to a very intense heat.

It is evident that, in order to produce such weapons, the Kaffir must be a good blacksmith, and it is certain that, when we take into consideration the kind of work which has to be done, he can hardly be surpassed in his art. Certainly, if any English blacksmith were given a quantity of iron ore, and only had the very primitive tools which the Kaffir blacksmith employs, he would be entirely vanquished by his dusky brother of the forge.

Among the Kaffirs, a blacksmith is a man of considerable importance, and is much respected by the tribe. He will not profane the mystery of his craft by allowing uninitiated eyes to inspect his various processes, and therefore carries on his operations at some distance from the kraal. His first care is to prepare the bellows. The form which he uses prevails over a very large portion of Africa, and is seen, with some few modifications, even among the many islands of Polynesia. It consists of two leathern sacks, at the upper end of which is a handle. To the lower end of each sack is attached the hollow horns of some animal, that of the cow or the eland being most commonly used; and when the bags are alternately inflated and compressed, the air passes out through the two horns. Of course the heat of the fire would destroy the horns if they were allowed to come in contact with it, and they are therefore inserted, not into the fire, but into an earthenware tube, which communicates with the fire. The use of valves is unknown; but as the two horns do not open into the fire, but into the tube, the fire is not drawn into the bellows as would otherwise be the case. This arrangement, however, causes considerable waste of air, so the bellows blower is obliged to work much harder than would be the case if he were provided with an instrument that could conduct the blast directly to its destination. The ancient Egyptians used a bellows of precisely similar construction, except that they did not work them entirely by hand. They stood with one foot on each sack, and blew the fire by alternately pressing on them with the feet, and raising them by means of a cord fastened to their upper ends.

When the blacksmith is about to set to work, he digs a hole in the ground, in which the fire is placed, and then sinks the earthenware tube in a sloping direction, so that the lower end opens at the bottom of the hole, while the upper end projects above the level of the ground. The two horns are next inserted into the upper end of the earthenware tube, and the bellows are then fastened in their places, so that the sacks are conveniently disposed for the hands of the operator, who sits between them. A charcoal fire is then laid in the hole, and is soon brought to a powerful heat by means of the bellows. A larger stone serves the purpose of an anvil, and a smaller stone does duty for a hammer. Sometimes the hammer is made of a conical piece of iron, but in most cases a stone is considered sufficient. The rough work of hammering the iron into shape is generally done by the chief blacksmith’s assistants, of whom he has several, all of whom will pound away at the iron in regular succession. The shaping and finishing the article is reserved by the smith for himself. The other tools are few and simple, and consist of punches and rude pincers made of two rods of iron.

With these instruments the Kaffir smith can cast brass into various ornaments. Sometimes he pours it into a cylindrical mould, so as to make a bar from which bracelets and similar ornaments can be hammered, and sometimes he makes studs and knobs by forming their shapes in clay moulds.

In the illustration No. 2, on page 97, a native forge is seen in full operation. The chief smith is at the left of the engraving, seated at the bellows and blowing the fire, in which is placed an iron rod which is going to be forged into an assagai head. The manner in which the horn tubes of the bellows are fastened to the ground--a stick being laid across each horn, and a heavy stone upon each stick--is well shown. At the right hand of the smith is a basket containing charcoal, and another is seen near the assistant. On the opposite side sits the assistant or apprentice blacksmith, busily hammering with a conical stone at the spear head which is being forged, and at his side lie one or two finished heads. Behind them, another smith is hard at work with a huge stone with which he is crushing the ore. On the right hand of the illustration is seen the reed fence which is erected in order to keep off the wind, and in the middle distance is the kraal to which the smiths belong. The reed fence is supported by being lashed to a mimosa. Some jars of beer stand within the shadow of the fence for the occasional refreshment of the blacksmiths.

How the blacksmith contrives to work without burning his right hand is rather unintelligible. I have handled the conical hammer, and find that the hand is brought so close to the iron that, when it is heated to a glowing redness, the effect upon the fingers must be singularly unpleasant, not to mention the sparks that fly about so liberally when heated iron is struck. Sometimes, when a native is making small objects, he takes a tolerably large hammer, reverses it, and drives the small end deeply into the ground. The face of the hammer is then uppermost, and answers as an anvil, on which he works with a hammer of smaller size.

Although the bellows which a Kaffir makes are sufficiently powerful to enable him to melt brass, and to forge iron into various shapes, they do not seem to give a sufficiently strong and continuous blast to enable him to weld iron together. Mr. Moffatt mentions a curious anecdote, which illustrates this point. He was visiting Moselekatse, the king of the northern division of the Zulu tribes, and very much frightened the savage monarch by the sight of the wagon, the wheels of which seemed to his ignorant mind to be endowed with motion by some magic power. His greatest wonder was, however, excited by the tire of the wheel, as he could not comprehend how such a piece of iron could be made without the junction of the ends being visible. A native who had accompanied Mr. Moffatt explained to the king how the mystery was solved. He took the missionary’s right hand in his own, held it up before the king, and said, “My eyes saw that very hand cut those bars of iron, take a piece off one end, and then join them as you see now.” After a careful inspection, the spot where the iron had been welded was pointed out. The king then wanted to know whether medicine were given to the iron in order to endow it with such wonderful powers, but was told that nothing was used except fire, a chisel, and a hammer. Yet Moselekatse was king of the essentially warlike Zulus, a nation which possessed plenty of blacksmiths who were well versed in their art, and could forge the leaf shaped blades of the assagais with such skill that the best European smiths could not produce weapons more perfectly suited for the object which they were intended to fulfil.

Le Vaillant narrates an amusing instance of the astonishment caused to some Kaffir blacksmiths by a rude kind of bellows which he made after the European fashion. After paying a just tribute of admiration to the admirable work produced by the dusky blacksmiths in spite of their extremely rude and imperfect tools, he proceeds to describe the form of bellows that they used, which is just that which has been already mentioned.

“I had great difficulty in making them comprehend how much superior the bellows of our forges in Europe were to their invention; and being persuaded that the little they might catch of my explanation would soon escape from their memories, and would consequently be of no real advantage to them, I resolved to add example to precept, and to operate myself in their presence.

“Having despatched one of my people to our camp with orders to bring the bottoms of two boxes, a piece of a summer kaross, a hoop, a few small nails, a hammer, a saw, and other small tools that I might have occasion for, as soon as he returned I formed in great haste, and in a very rude manner, a pair of bellows, which were not more powerful than those generally used in our kitchens. Two pieces of hoop which I placed in the inside served to keep the skin always at an equal distance; and I did not forget to make a hole in the inferior part, to give a readier admittance to the air--a simple method of which they had no conception, and for want of which they were obliged to waste a great deal of time in filling the sheepskin.

“I had no iron pipe, but, as I only meant to make a model, I fixed to the extremity of mine a toothpick case, after sawing off one of its ends. I then placed my instrument on the ground near the fire, and, having fixed a forked stick in the ground, I laid across it a kind of lever, which was fastened to a bit of packthread proceeding from the bellows, and to which was fixed a piece of lead weighing seven or eight pounds. To form a just idea of the surprise of these Kaffirs on this occasion, one must have seen with what attention they beheld all my operations; the uncertainty in which they were, and their anxiety to discover what would be the event. They could not resist their exclamations when they saw me, by a few easy motions and with one hand, give their fire the greatest activity by the velocity with which I made my machine draw in and again force out the air. Putting some pieces of iron into their fire, I made them red hot in a few minutes, which they undoubtedly could not have done in half an hour.

“This specimen of my skill raised their astonishment to the highest pitch. I may venture to say that they were almost convulsed and thrown into a delirium. They danced and capered round the bellows; each tried them in turn, and they clapped their hands the better to testify their joy. They begged me to make them a present of this wonderful machine, and seemed to await for my answer with impatience, not imagining, as I judged, that I would readily give up so valuable a piece of furniture. It would afford me great pleasure to hear, at some future period, that they have brought them to perfection, and that, above all, they preserve a remembrance of that stranger who first supplied them with the most essential instrument in metallurgy.”

As far as can be judged by the present state of the blacksmith’s art in Kaffirland, the natives have not derived the profit from Le Vaillant’s instructions which he so ingenuously predicted. In all probability, the bellows in question would be confiscated by the chief of the tribe, who would destroy their working powers in endeavoring to make out their action. Moreover, the Kaffir is eminently conservative in his notions, and he would rather prefer the old sheepskin, which only required to be tied at the legs and neck with thongs, to the comparatively elaborate instrument of the white traveller, which needed the use of wooden hoops, nails, saw, hammer, and the other tools of the civilized workman.

The Kaffir smiths have long known the art of wire drawing, though their plates are very rude, the metal comparatively soft, and the wire in consequence irregularly drawn. Moreover, they cannot make wire of iron, but are obliged to content themselves with the softer metals, such as brass and copper. Mr. Moffat, the African missionary, relates an amusing anecdote of an interview with a native metal worker. As a missionary ought to do, he had a practical knowledge of the blacksmith’s art, and so became on friendly terms with his dark brother of the forge; and after winning his heart by making him a new wire drawing plate, made of steel, and pierced for wires of twenty variations in thickness, induced him to exhibit the whole of his mystic process.

His first proceeding was to prepare four moulds, very simply made by building a little heap of dry sand, and pushing into it a little stick about a quarter of an inch in diameter. He then built and lighted a charcoal fire, such as has already been described, and he next placed in a kind of rude clay crucible some copper and a little tin. A vigorous manipulation of the bellows fused the copper and tin together, and he then took out the crucible with a rude kind of tongs made of bark, and poured the contents into the holes, thus making a number of short brass rods about a quarter of an inch in diameter and three or four inches in length. These rods were next removed from the moulds and hammered with a stone until they were reduced to half their diameter. During this operation, the rods were frequently heated in the flame of burning grass.

Next came the important operation of drawing the rods through the holes, so as to convert them into wire. The end of a rod was sharpened and forced through the largest hole, a split stick being used by way of pincers, and the rod continually greased. By repeating this process the wire is passed through holes that become regularly smaller in diameter, until at last it is scarcely thicker than sewing thread. The wire plate is about half an inch in thickness. The brass thus made is not equal in color to that in which zinc is used instead of tin, but as it is capable of taking a high polish, the native cares for nothing more. The reader may perhaps remember that Mr. Williams, the well-known missionary, established his reputation among the savages to whom he was sent by making an extemporized set of bellows out of boxes and boards, the rats always eating every scrap of leather that was exposed.

The knowledge of forge work which Mr. Moffatt possessed was gained by him under very adverse circumstances. A broken-down wagon had to be mended, and there was no alternative but to turn blacksmith and mend the wagon, or to abandon the expedition. Finding that the chief drawback to the powers of the forge was the inefficient construction of the native bellows, he set to work, and contrived to make a pair of bellows very similar to those of which Le Vaillant gave so glowing a description. And, if any proof were needed that the French traveller’s aspirations had not been realized, it may be found in the fact that the rude bellows made by the English missionary were as much a matter of astonishment to the natives as those which had been made by Le Vaillant some sixty years before.

Much of the iron used in Southern Africa seems to be of meteoric origin, and is found in several localities in a wonderfully pure state, so that very little labor is needed in order to make it fit for the forge.

The Kaffir blacksmith never need trouble himself about the means of obtaining a fire. Should he set up his forge in the vicinity of a kraal, the simplest plan is to send his assistant for a firebrand from one of the huts. But, if he should prefer, as is often the case, to work at some distance from the huts, he can procure fire with perfect certainty, though not without some labor.

He first procures two sticks, one of them taken from a soft wood tree, and the other from an acacia, or some other tree that furnishes a hard wood. Of course both the sticks must be thoroughly dry, a condition about which there is little difficulty in so hot a climate. His next care is to shape one end of the hard stick into a point, and to bore a small hole in the middle of the soft stick. He now squats down, places the pointed tip of the hard stick in the hole of the soft stick, and, taking the former between his hands, twirls it backward and forward with extreme rapidity. As he goes on, the hole becomes enlarged, and a small quantity of very fine dust falls into it, being rubbed away by the friction. Presently, the dust is seen to darken in color, then to become nearly black; and presently a very slight smoke is seen to rise. The Kaffir now redoubles his efforts; he aids the effect of the revolving stick by his breath, and in a few more seconds the dust bursts into a flame. The exertion required in this operation is very severe, and by the time that the fire manifests itself the producer is bathed in perspiration.

Usually, two men, at least, take part in fire making, and, by dividing the labor, very much shorten the process. It is evident that, if the perpendicular stick be thus worked, the hands must gradually slide down it until they reach the point. The solitary Kaffir would then be obliged to stop the stick, shift his hands to the top, and begin again, thus losing much valuable time. But when two Kaffirs unite in fire making, one sits opposite the other, and as soon as he sees that his comrade’s hands have nearly worked themselves down to the bottom of the stick, he places his own hands on the top, continues the movement, and relieves his friend. Thus, the movement of the stick is never checked for a moment, and the operation is consequently hastened. Moreover, considerable assistance is given by the second Kaffir keeping the dust properly arranged round the point of the stick, and by taking the part of the bellows, so as to allow his comrade to expend all his strength in twirling the stick.

I have now before me one of the soft sticks in which fire has been made. There is a hole very much resembling in shape and size the depressions in a solitaire board, except that its sides are black and deeply charred by the fire, and in places highly polished by the friction. Some of my readers may perhaps remember that English blacksmiths are equally independent of lucifer matches, flint and steel, and other recognized modes of fire raising. They place a small piece of soft iron on the anvil, together with some charcoal dust, and hammer it furiously. The result is that enough heat is evolved to light the charcoal, and so to enable the blacksmith to set to work.

We will now see how the native makes his assagai.

With their simple tools the native smiths contrive to make their spear heads of such an excellent temper that they take a very sharp edge; so sharp, indeed, that the assagai is used, not only for cutting up meat and similar offices, but for shaving the head. Also, it is so pliable, that a good specimen can be bent nearly double and beaten straight again, without being heated.

When the Kaffir smith has finished the head of the assagai, it looks something like the blade of a table knife before it is inserted into the handle, and has a straight projecting peg, by which it is fastened into the wooden shaft. This peg, or tang as cutlers call it, is always notched, so as to make it retain its hold the better.

Now comes the next process. The spear maker has already by him a number of shafts. These are cut from a tree which is popularly called “assagai-wood,” and on the average, are nearly live feet in length. In diameter they are very small, seldom exceeding that of a man’s little finger at the thick end, while the other end tapers to the diameter of an ordinary black-lead pencil. The assagai-tree is called scientifically Curtisia Jaginea, and is something like the mahogany. The shaft of the assagai is seldom, if ever, sufficiently straight to permit the weapon to be used at once. It is straightened by means of heating it over the fire, and then scraping, beating, and bending it until the maker is pleased with the result. Even after the weapon has been made and in use, the shaft is very apt to warp, and in this case the Kaffir always rapidly straightens the assagai before he throws it. In spite of its brittle nature, it will endure a considerable amount of bending, provided that the curve be not too sharp, and that the operator does not jerk the shaft as he bends it. Indeed, if it were not for the elasticity of the shaft, the native would not be able to produce the peculiar quivering or vibrating movement, to which the weapon owes so much of its efficiency.

By means of heating the “tang” of the head red hot, a hole is bored into the thick end of the shaft, and the tang passed into it. Were it left without further work, the spear would be incomplete, for the head would fall away from the shaft whenever the point was held downward. In order to fasten it in its place, the Kaffir always makes use of one material, namely, raw hide. He cuts a narrow strip of hide, sometimes retaining the hair, and binds it while still wet upon the spear. As it dries, the hide contracts, and forms a band nearly as strong as if made of iron. There is no particular art displayed in tying this band; we never see in that portion of an assagai the least trace of the elaborate and elegant patterns used by the New Zealanders in the manufacture of their weapons. The strip of hide is merely rolled round the spear and the loose end tucked beneath a fold. Yet the Kaffir is not without the power of producing such patterns, and will commonly weave very elaborate and elegant ornaments, from the hair of the elephant’s tail and similar materials. These ornamental lashings are, however, always placed on the shaft of the weapon, and are never employed in fastening the head of the assagai in its place.

In the illustration on page 103 is drawn a group of assagais, in order to show the chief varieties of this weapon. The whole of them have been drawn from specimens in my own possession. The word “assagai” is not a Kaffir term, but, like the popular name of the tribe, like the words kaross, kraal, &c., has been borrowed from another language. The Zulu word for the assagai is um-konto, a word which has a curious though accidental resemblance to the Latin contus.

The ordinary form or “throwing assagai” is shown at fig. 5. It is used as a missile, and not as a dagger. In some cases the throwing assagai is shaped in a more simple manner, the head being nothing but a sharpened spike of iron, without any pretensions of being formed into a blade. This weapon is five feet seven inches in total length, and the blade measures a foot in length from its junction with the shaft. Sometimes the blade is much longer and wider, as seen at fig. 4, which represents the ordinary “stabbing assagai.” This weapon can be used as a missile, but is very seldom employed except as a manual weapon. Its long, straight blade is much used in the more peaceful vocations of daily life, and a Kaffir in time of peace seldom uses it for any worse purpose than slaughtering cattle, and cutting them up afterward. This is the assagai that is usually employed as a knife, and with which the ingenious native contrives to shave his head.

At fig. 7 is shown a very remarkable specimen of the barbed assagai. Intending to produce an extremely elegant weapon, the artificer has lavished much pains on his work. In the first place, he has forged a deeply barbed head, a form which is but rarely seen. He has then fastened it to the shaft in a rather singular way. Instead of cutting a strip of raw hide and binding it round the weapon, he has taken the tail of a calf, cut off a piece about four inches in length, drawn the skin from it so as to form a tube, and slipped this tube over the spear. As is the case with the hide lashing, the tube contracts as it dries, and forms a singularly effective mode of attaching the head to the shaft. The hair has been retained, and, in the maker’s opinion, a very handsome weapon has been produced.

The assagai, in its original form, is essentially a missile, and is made expressly for that purpose, although it serves several others. And, insignificant as it looks when compared with the larger and more elaborate spears of other nations, there is no spear or lancet that can surpass it in efficacy.

The Kaffir, when going on a warlike or hunting expedition, or even when travelling to any distance, takes with him a bundle, or “sheaf,” of assagais, at least five in number, and sometimes eight or nine. When he assails an enemy, he rushes forward, springing from side to side in order to disconcert the aim of his adversary, and hurling spear after spear with such rapidity that two or three are in the air at once, each having been thrown from a different direction. There is little difficulty in avoiding a single spear when thrown from the front; but when the point of one is close to the heart, and another is coming to the right side, and the enemy is just hurling another on the left, it is a matter of no small difficulty to escape one or other of them. If the assailed individual stands still, he is sure to be hit, for the Kaffir’s aim is absolute certainty; while if he tries to escape a spear coming from the left, he will probably be hit by another coming from the right.

Moreover, the mode in which the weapon is thrown serves to disconcert the enemy, and bewilder his gaze. Just before he throws the spear, the Kaffir makes it quiver in a very peculiar manner. He grasps it with the thumb and forefinger of the right hand, holding it just above the spot where it balances itself, and with the head pointing up his arm. The other fingers are laid along the shaft, and are suddenly and firmly closed, so as to bring the balance spot of the spear against the root of the hand. This movement causes the spear to vibrate strongly and is rapidly repeated, until the weapon gives out a peculiar humming or shivering noise, impossible to be described, and equally impossible to be forgotten when once heard. It is as menacing a sound as the whirr of the rattlesnake, and is used by the Kaffirs when they wish to strike terror into their opponents. When thrown, the assagai does not lose this vibrating movement, but seems even to vibrate stronger than before, the head describing a large arc of a circle, of which the balance point forms the centre. This vibration puzzles the eye of the adversary, because it is almost impossible to tell the precise direction which the weapon is taking. Any one can calculate the flight of a rigid missile, such as a thick spear or arrow, but when the weapon is vibrating the eye is greatly bewildered.

The whole look of an assagai in the air is very remarkable, and has never been properly represented. All illustrations have represented it as quite straight and stiff in its flight, whereas it looks just like a very slender serpent undulating itself gracefully through the air. It seems instinct with life, and appears rather to be seeking its own course than to be a simple weapon thrown by the hand of a man. As it flies along it continually gives out the peculiar shivering sound which has been mentioned, and this adds to the delusion of its aspect.

An illustration on page 111 represents a group of Kaffir warriors engaged in a skirmish. In the present instance they are exhibiting their prowess in a mock fight, the heads of the assagais being of wood instead of iron, and blunted, but still hard and sharp enough to give a very severe blow--experto crede. In the background are seen a number of soldiers standing behind their shields so as to exemplify the aptness of their title, the Matabele, or Disappearers. In the immediate foreground is a soldier in the full uniform of his regiment. He has just hurled one assagai, and, as may be seen by the manner in which his dress is flying, has leaped to his present position with another assagai ready in his hand. Two soldiers are plucking out of the ground the assagais thrown by their antagonists, covering themselves with their shields while so doing. All these soldiers belong to the same regiment, as may be seen by the headdress, which constitutes their distinctive uniform.

The skill displayed by the Kaffirs in the use of this weapon is really surprising. The rapidity with which the assagais are snatched from the sheaf, poised, quivered, and hurled is almost incredible. We are told that the great mastery of the old English archers over the powerful bows which they used, was not so much owing to the personal strength of the archer, as to the manner in which he was taught to “lay his body in his bow,” and thus to manage with ease a weapon that much stronger men could not draw. In a similar manner, the skill of the Kaffir in hurling the assagai is attributable not to his bodily strength, but to the constant habit of using the weapon. As soon as a boy can fairly walk alone, he plays at spear throwing--throwing with sticks; and as he grows up, his father makes sham assagais for him, with wooden instead of iron heads. Two of these mock weapons are shown at fig. 8 in the illustration on p. 103. They exactly resemble the ordinary assagai, except that their heads are of wood; and if one of them happened to hit a man, it would inflict rather an unpleasant wound.

When the Kaffir grasps his assagai, he and the weapon seem to become one being, the quivering spear seeming instinct with life imparted to it by its wielder. In hurling it, he assumes intuitively the most graceful of attitudes, reminding the observer of some of the ancient statues, and the weapon is thrown with such seeming ease that, as a sojourner among them told me, “the man looks as if he were made of oil.” As he hurls the weapon, he presses on his foe, trying to drive him back, and at the same time to recover the spent missiles.

Sometimes, when he has not space to raise his arm, or when he wants to take his foe by surprise, he throws the assagai with a kind of underhand jerk, his arm hanging at full length. An assagai thus delivered cannot be thrown so far as by the ordinary method, but it can be propelled with considerable force, and frequently achieves the object for which it was intended. He never throws the last of the sheaf, but if he cannot succeed in picking up those that are already thrown, either by himself or his enemy, he dashes forward, and, as he closes with the foe, snaps the shaft of the assagai in the middle, throws away the tip, and uses the remaining portion as a dagger.

The wood of which the shaft is made, though very elastic, is very brittle, and a novice in the art is sure to break several of his spears before he learns to throw them properly. Unless they are rightly cast, as soon as the blade reaches the ground the shaft gives a kind of “whip” forward, and snaps short just above the blade. One of the great warrior chiefs made a singular use of this property. Just before going into action, he made his men cut the shafts of their assagais nearly across, just beyond the junction of the shaft and the head. The consequence of this ingenious ruse became evident enough when the action commenced. If the weapon went true to its mark, it pierced the body of the foe just as effectually as if nothing had been done to it; while if it missed, and struck the ground or a shield, the shaft instantly snapped, and the weapon was thereby rendered useless to the foe.

Unknowingly, the barbaric chief copied the example that was set by a Roman general nearly two thousand years ago. When Marius made war against the Cimbri, his troops carried the short heavy javelin, called the pilum. This weapon had a thick handle, to the end of which the long blade was attached by two iron rivets, one in front of the other. Before going to battle, he ordered the soldiers to remove the rivet farthest from the point, and to supply its place with a slight wooden peg, just strong enough to hold the head in its proper position as long as no force was used. When the javelin was hurled, the enemy tried to receive it on their shields; and if they succeeded in doing so, they drew out the weapon and flung it back at the foe. But as soon as the action began, the Cimbri found themselves in a sore strait. No sooner had they caught the javelin in their shields, than the slight wooden peg snapped, and allowed the shaft to dangle from the blade. Not only was the weapon useless, but it became a serious incumbrance. It could not be pulled out of the shield, as it afforded no grasp, and the heavy shaft dragged on the ground so as to force the soldier to throw away his shield, and to fight without it.

A very singular modification of the assagai was made by the terrible Tchaka, a chief who lived but for war, and was a man of wonderful intellect, dauntless courage, singular organizing power, and utterly devoid of compassion. Retaining the assagai, he altered its shape, and made it a much shorter and heavier weapon, unfit for throwing, and only to be used in a hand-to-hand encounter. After arming his troops with this modified weapon, he entirely altered the mode of warfare.

His soldiers were furnished with a very large shield and a single assagai. When they went into action, they ran in a compact body on the enemy, and as soon as the first shower of spears fell, they crouched beneath their shields, allowed the weapons to expend their force, and then sprang in for a hand-to-hand encounter. Their courage, naturally great, was excited by promises of reward, and by the certainty that not to conquer was to die. If a soldier was detected in running away, he was instantly killed by the chief, and the same punishment awaited any one who returned from battle without his spear and shield. Owing to these tactics, he raised the tribe of the Amazulu to be the most powerful in the country. He absorbed nearly sixty other tribes into his own, and extended his dominions nearly half across the continent of Africa.

He at last formed the bold conception of sweeping the whole South African coast with his armies, and extirpating the white inhabitants. But, while at the zenith of his power, he was treacherously killed by two of his brothers, Dingan and Umlangane. The two murderers fought for the kingdom on the following day, and Dingan ascended the throne over the bodies of both his brothers. The sanguinary mode of government which Tchaka had created was not likely to be ameliorated in such hands, and the name of Dingan was dreaded nearly as much as that of his brother. His successor and brother, Panda, continued to rule in the same manner, though without possessing the extraordinary genius of the mighty founder of his kingdom, and found himself obliged to form an alliance with the English, instead of venturing to make war upon them. Tchaka’s invention of the single stabbing assagai answered very well as long as the Zulus only fought against other tribes of the same country. But, when they came to encounter the Dutch Boers, it was found that the stabbing assagai was almost useless against mounted enemies, and they were obliged to return to the original form of the weapon.

If the reader will refer to the illustration which has already been mentioned, he will see two specimens of the short stabbing assagai with the large blade. A fine example of this weapon is seen at fig. 1. The reader will see that the blade is extremely wide and leaf shaped, and that the other end, or but of the spear, is decorated with a tuft of hairs taken from the tail of a cow. Another example is seen at fig. 3. The maker has bestowed great pains on this particular weapon. Just at the part where the spear balances, a piece of soft leather is formed into a sort of handle, and is finished off at either end with a ring made of the wire-like hair of the elephant’s tail. Several wide rings of the same material decorate the shaft of the weapon, and all of them are like the well-known “Turk’s-head” knot of the sailors. Fig. 6 shows another assagai, which has once had a barbed blade like that at fig. 7, but which has been so repeatedly ground that the original shape is scarcely perceptible. The spear which is drawn at fig. 13 is one of the ornamental wooden weapons which a Kaffir will use when etiquette forbids him to carry a real assagai. This particular spear is cut from one piece of wood, and is decorated according to Kaffir notions of beauty, by contrasts of black and white gained by charring the wood. The ornamental work on the shaft is thus blackened, and so is one side of the broad wooden blade. The spear shown at fig. 9 is used in elephant hunting, and will be described in a future chapter.

To a Kaffir the assagai is a necessary of life. He never stirs without taking a weapon of some kind in his hand, and that weapon is generally the assagai. With it he kills his game, with it he cuts up the carcass, with it he strips off the hide, and with it he fashions the dresses worn by the women as well as the men. The ease and rapidity with which he performs these acts are really astonishing. When cutting up slaughtered cattle, he displays as much knowledge of the various cuts as the most experienced butcher, and certainly no butcher could operate more rapidly with his knife, saw, and cleaver, than does the Kaffir with his simple assagai. For every purpose wherein an European uses a knife, the Kaffir uses his assagai. With it he cuts the shafts for his weapons, and with its sharp blade he carves the wooden clubs, spoons, dishes, and pillows, and the various utensils required in his daily life.

When hurling his assagai, whether at an animal which he is hunting or at a foe, or even when exhibiting his skill to a spectator, the Kaffir becomes strongly excited, and seems almost beside himself. The sweetest sound that can greet a Kaffir’s ears is the sound of his weapon entering the object at which it was aimed, and in order to enjoy this strange gratification, he will stab a slain animal over and over again, forgetful in the excitement of the moment that every needless stab injures the hide which might be so useful to him. When the chief summons his army, and the warriors go through their extraordinary performances in his presence, they never fail to expatiate on the gratification which they shall derive from hearing their assagais strike into the bodies of their opponents.

It is rather a curious fact that the true Kaffir never uses the bow and arrow. Though nearly surrounded by tribes which use this weapon, and though often suffering in skirmishes from the poisoned arrows of the Bosjesmans, he rejects the bow in warfare, considering it to be a weapon inconsistent with the dignity of a warrior. He has but two weapons, the assagai and the club, and he wields the second as skilfully as the first. The clubs used by the Kaffir tribes are extremely variable in size, and rather so in form. Some of them are more than six feet in length, while some are only fourteen or fifteen inches. But they all agree in one point, namely, that they are straight, or, at all events, are intended to be so; and that one end is terminated by a knob. They are popularly known as “knob-kerries.”

In order to show the extreme difference of size that is found among them, several specimens are figured in the illustration on page 103. Three specimens are seen at fig. 10. That on the right hand is used as a weapon, and is wielded in a very curious manner. Not only can it be employed as a weapon with which an opponent can be struck, but it is also used as a missile, sometimes being flung straight at the antagonist, and sometimes thrown on the ground in such a manner that its elasticity causes it to rebound and strike the enemy from below instead of from above. The Australian savages possess clubs of a similar shape, and also employ the ricochet. The other two kerries are not meant as weapons.

It is contrary to etiquette for a Kaffir to carry an assagai when he enters the hut of a superior, and he therefore exchanges the weapon for the innocent kerrie. And it is also contrary to etiquette to use the real assagai in dances. But, as in their dances the various operations of warfare and hunting are imitated, it is necessary for the performers to have something that will take the place of an assagai, and they accordingly provide themselves with knob-kerries about the same length as the weapons whose place they supply.

One very common form of the short knob-kerrie is shown at fig. 14. This weapon is only twenty inches in length, and can be conveniently carried in the belt. At close quarters it can be used as a club, but it is more frequently employed as a missile.

The Kaffir is so trained from infancy to hurl his weapons that he always prefers those which can be thrown. The force and precision with which the natives will fling these short kerries is really astonishing. If Europeans were to go after birds, and provide themselves with knobbed sticks instead of guns, they would bring home but very little game. Yet a Kaffir takes his knob-kerries as a matter of course, when he goes after the bustard, the quail, or other birds, and seldom returns without success.

The general plan is for two men to hunt in concert. They walk some fifty yards apart, and when they come to any spot which seems a likely place for game, they rest their kerries on their right shoulders, so as to lose no time in drawing back the hand when they wish to fling the weapon. As soon as a bird rises, they simultaneously hurl their kerries at it, one always aiming a little above the bird, and the other a little below. If, then, the bird catches sight of the upper club, and dives down to avoid it, the lower club takes effect, while, if it rises from the lower kerrie, it falls a victim to the upper. This plan is wonderfully efficacious, as I have proved by personal experience. One of my friends and myself determined to try whether we could kill game in the Kaffir fashion. So we cut some knobbed sticks, and started off in search of snipe. As soon as a snipe rose, we flung the stick at it, and naturally missed, as it was quite beyond the range of any missile propelled by hand. However, marking the spot where it alighted, we started it afresh, and by repeating this process, we got sufficiently near to bring it within the compass of our powers, and succeeded in knocking it down.

Generally the short, thick, heavily knobbed kerrie belongs rather to the Hottentot and the Bosjesman than to the Zulu, who prefers the longer weapon, even as a missile. But it is evident that the former shape of the weapon is the original one, and that the Kaffir, who derived it from its original inventor, the Hottentot, has gradually lengthened the shaft and diminished the size of the head.

The material of which the kerrie is made is mostly wood, that of the acacia being frequently used for this purpose. The long knob-kerries of the Zulus are generally cut from the tree that is emphatically, though not euphoniously, named Stink-wood, on account of the unpleasant odor which it gives out while being worked. As soon as it is dry, this odor goes off, and not even the most sensitive nostril can be annoyed by it. The stink-wood is a species of laurel, and its scientific name is Laurus bullata. The most valuable, as well as the most durable knob-kerries are those which are cut out of rhinoceros horn, and a native can hardly be induced to part with a fine specimen for any bribe. In the first place, the very fact of possessing such an article shows that he must be a mighty hunter, and have slain a rhinoceros; and in the second place, its great efficacy, and the enormous amount of labor expended in carving out of the solid horn, endear it so much to him, that he will not part with it except for something which will tend to raise him in the eyes of his comrades. In England, a fine specimen of knob-kerrie, made from the horn of the white rhinoceros, has been known to fetch even ten pounds.

Thus much for the offensive weapons of the Zulu Kaffir. Toward the north as well as to the west of the Draakensberg Mountains, a peculiar battle-axe is used, which is evidently a modification of the barbed spear which has already been described; but the true Zulu uses no weapon except the assagai and the kerrie.

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XII. WAR--Concluded

DEFENSIVE WEAPONS, AND MODE OF FIGHTING.

BODY ARMOR NOT WORN -- THE KAFFIR’S SHIELD -- ITS SHAPE, MATERIAL, AND COLOR -- THE SHIELD AS A UNIFORM -- CURIOUS RUSE -- HOW THE SHIELD IS HELD AND USED -- THE SHIELD STICK AND ITS ORNAMENTS -- VALUE OF THE SHIELD AGAINST SPEARS AND ARROWS -- THE BLACK AND WHITE SHIELD REGIMENTS -- DISTRIBUTION OF SHIELDS -- MILITARY AMBITION AND ITS INCENTIVES -- CHIEF OBJECTS OF WARFARE -- DISCIPLINE OF KAFFIR ARMY -- CRUELTY OF TCHAKA AND OTHER ZULU MONARCHS -- OBSERVANCES BEFORE A CAMPAIGN -- SUPERSTITIOUS CEREMONIES -- HOW THE ARMY IS MAINTAINED IN THE FIELD -- TRACK OF AN ARMY THROUGH AN ENEMY’S LAND -- JEALOUSY BETWEEN THE DIFFERENT REGIMENTS -- ORGANIZATION OF THE ARMY -- NUMBER OF REGIMENTS AND GARRISON TOWNS -- NAMES OF THE DIFFERENT REGIMENTS -- GOZA AND SANDILLI -- DISTINGUISHING UNIFORMS OF THE REGIMENTS -- THE REVIEW AFTER A BATTLE, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES -- THE SHIELD BEARER AND HIS PERILOUS TASK -- THE ROYAL ATTENDANTS -- REWARD AND PUNISHMENT -- KAFFIR HERALDS -- VARIOUS TITLES OF THE KING -- PANDA’S REVIEW COSTUME -- THE KING’S PROGRESS THROUGH HIS COUNTRY -- INVENTION AND COMPLETION OF A MILITARY SYSTEM -- TCHAKA’S POLICY COMPARED WITH THAT OF THE FIRST NAPOLEON -- TCHAKA’S RISE AND FALL -- AN UNSUCCESSFUL EXPEDITION -- FAMILY QUARRELS -- A TREACHEROUS CONSPIRACY -- MURDER OF TCHAKA, AND ACCESSION OF DINGAN.

The Zulu tribe have but one piece of defensive armor, namely, the shield. The Kaffirs either are ignorant of, or despise bodily armor of any kind, not even protecting their heads by caps and helmets, but exposing their naked bodies and limbs to the weapons of the foe. The shields are always made of ox-hide, and their color denotes the department of the army to which the owner belongs. None but “men,” who are entitled to wear the head-ring, are privileged to carry white shields, while the “boys” on their promotion are furnished with black shields. Some of them have their black and white shields spotted with red or brown, this coloring denoting the particular regiment to which they belong. It will be seen, therefore, that the shield constitutes a kind of uniform, and it has more than once happened, that when the Zulu warriors have got the better of their enemies, some of the more crafty among the vanquished have contrived to exchange their own shields for those belonging to slain Zulu warriors, and have thus contrived to pass themselves off as victorious Amazulu until they could find an opportunity of making their escape.

The double row of black marks down the centre of the shield (see Goza’s, page 117,) is an addition which is invariably found in these weapons of war, and serves partly as an ornament, and partly as a convenient mode for fastening the handle. In ornamenting the shield with these marks, the Kaffir cuts a double row of slits along the shield while it is still wet and pliant, and then passes strips of black hide in and out through the slits, so as to make the black of the strip contrast itself boldly with the white of the shield.

The handle of the Kaffir’s shield is quite unique. Instead of being a mere loop or projection in the centre of the shield, it is combined with a stick which runs along the centre of the shield, and is long enough to project at both ends. This stick serves several purposes, its chief use being to strengthen the shield and keep it stiff, and its second object being to assist the soldier in swinging it about in the rapid manner which is required in the Kaffir’s mode of fighting and dancing. The projection at the lower end is used as a rest, on which the shield can stand whenever the warrior is tired of carrying it in his arms, and the shield ought to be just so tall that, when the owner stands erect, his eyes can just look over the top of the shield, while the end of the stick reaches to the crown of his head. It will be seen that the upper end of the stick has an ornament upon it. This is made of the furry skin of some animal, which is cut into strips just like those which are used for the “tails,” and the strips wound upon the stick in a drum-like shape.

If the reader will refer to the illustration on p. 57, entitled “Kaffirs at Home,” he will see three of these shield-sticks placed in the fence of the cattle-fold, ready to be inserted in the shield whenever they are wanted.

At each side of the shield there is a slight indentation, the object of which is not very clear, unless it be simple fashion. It prevails to a large extent throughout many parts of Africa, in some places being comparatively slight, and in others so deep that the shield looks like a great hour-glass. Although the shield is simply made of the hide of an ox, and without that elaborate preparation with glue and size which strengthens the American Indian’s shield, the native finds it quite sufficient to guard him against either spear or club, while those tribes which employ the bow find that their weapons can make but little impression on troops which are furnished with such potent defences. The Bosjesmans, and all the tribes which use poisoned arrows, depend entirely on the virulence of the poison, and not on the force with which the arrow is driven, so that their puny bow and slender arrows are almost useless against foes whose whole bodies are covered by shields, from which the arrows recoil as harmlessly as if they were bucklers of iron.

As is the case in more civilized communities, the shields, which constitute the uniforms, are not the private property of the individual soldier, but are given out by the chief. Moreover, it seems that the warlike chief Dingan would not grant shields to any young soldier until he had shown himself worthy of wearing the uniform of his sovereign. The skins of all the cattle in the garrison towns belong of right to the king, and are retained by him for the purpose of being made into shields, each skin being supposed to furnish two shields--a large one, and a small, or hunting shield. Men are constantly employed in converting hides into shields, which are stored in houses devoted to the purpose.

Captain Gardiner gives an interesting account of an application for shields made by a party of young soldiers, and their reception by the king. It must be first understood that Dingan was at the time in his chief garrison town, and that he was accompanied by his two favorite Indoonas, or petty chiefs, one of whom, by name Tambooza, was a singularly cross-grained individual, whose chief delight was in fault finding. After mentioning that a chief, named Georgo, had travelled to the king’s palace, at the head of a large detachment, for the purpose of asking for shields, he proceeded as follows:--

“Their arrival at the principal gate of the town having been notified to the king, an order was soon after sent for their admission, when they all rushed up with a shout, brandishing their sticks in a most violent manner, until within a respectable distance of the Issigordlo, when they halted. Dingan soon mounted his pedestal and showed himself over the fence, on which a simultaneous greeting of ‘Byāte!’ ran through the line into which they were now formed. He soon disappeared, and the whole party then seated themselves on the ground they occupied. Dingan shortly after came out, the two Indoonas and a number of his great men having already arrived, and seated themselves in semi-circular order on each side of his chair, from whom he was, however, removed to a dignified distance. Tambooza, who is the great speaker on all these occasions, and the professed scolder whenever necessity requires, was now on his legs; to speak publicly in any other posture would, I am convinced, be painful to a Zulu; nor is he content with mere gesticulation--actual space is necessary; I had almost said sufficient for a cricket ball to bound in, but this would be hyperbole--a run, however, he must have, and I have been surprised at the grace and effect which this novel accompaniment to the art of elocution has often given to the point and matter of the discourse.

“In this character Tambooza is inimitable, and shone especially on the present occasion, having doubtless been instructed by the king, in whose name he addressed Georgo and his party, to interlard his oration with as many pungent reproofs and cutting invectives as his fertile imagination could invent, or his natural disposition suggest. On a late expedition, it appears that the troops now harangued had not performed the service expected--they had entered the territory of Umselekaz, and, instead of surrounding and capturing the herds within their reach, had attended to some pretended instructions to halt and return; some palliating circumstances had no doubt screened them from the customary rigor on such occasions, and this untoward occurrence was now turned to the best advantage. After a long tirade, in which Tambooza ironically described their feeble onset and fruitless effort, advancing like a Mercury to fix his part, and gracefully retiring as though to point a fresh barb for the attack; now slaking his wrath by a journey to the right, and then as abruptly recoiling to the left, by each detour increasing in vehemence, the storm was at length at its height, and in the midst of the tempest he had stirred he retired to the feet of his sovereign, who, I remarked, could scarcely refrain from smiling at many of the taunting expressions that were used.

“Georgo’s countenance can better be imagined than described at this moment. Impatient to reply, he now rose from the centre of the line, his person decorated with strings of pink beads worn over his shoulders like a cross belt, and large brass rings on his arms and throat. ‘Amanka’ (it is false), was the first word he uttered. The various chivalrous deeds of himself and his men were then set forth in the most glowing colors, and a scene ensued which I scarcely know how to describe. Independent of his own energetic gesticulations, his violent leaping and sententious running; on the first announcement of any exculpatory fact indicating their prowess in arms, one or more of the principal warriors would rush from the ranks to corroborate the statement by a display of muscular power in leaping, charging, and pantomimic conflict, which quite made the ground to resound under their feet; alternately leaping and galloping (for it is not running) until, frenzied by the tortuous motion, their nerves were sufficiently strong for the acme posture--vaulting several feet in the air, drawing the knees toward the chin, and at the same time passing the hands between the ankles. (See illustration No. 2 on page opposite.)

“In this singular manner were the charges advanced and rebutted for a considerable time; Dingan acting behind the scenes as a moderator, and occasionally calling off Tambooza as an unruly bull-dog from the bait. At length, as though imperceptibly drawn into the argument, he concluded the business in these words:--‘When have we heard anything good of Georgo? What has Georgo done? It is a name that is unknown to us. I shall give you no shields until you have proved yourself worthy of them; go and bring me some cattle from Umselekaz, and then shields shall be given you.’ A burst of applause rang from all sides on this unexpected announcement; under which, in good taste, the despot made his exit, retiring into the Issogordlo, while bowls of beer were served out to the soldiers, who with their Indoon were soon after observed marching over the hills, on their way to collect the remainder of their regiment, for the promised expedition.

“I am inclined to think that there was much of state policy in the whole of these proceedings, particularly as the order for the attack on Umselekaz was shortly after countermanded, and not more than ten or twelve days elapsed before the same party returned, and received their shields. At this time I was quietly writing in my hut; one of the shield houses adjoined; and I shall never forget the unceremonious rush they made. Not contented with turning them all out, and each selecting one, but, in order to prove them and shake off the dust, they commenced beating them on the spot with sticks, which, in connection with this sudden incursion, occasioned such an unusual tumult that I thought a civil war had commenced.”

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Having now seen the weapons used by the Kaffir warriors, we will see how they wage war.

When the chief arranges his troops in order of battle, he places the “boys” in the van, and gives them the post of honor, as well as of danger. In this position they have the opportunity of distinguishing themselves for which they so earnestly long, and, as a general rule, display such valor that it is not very easy to pick out those who have earned especial glory. Behind them are arranged the “men” with their white shields. These have already established their reputation, and do not require further distinction. They serve a double purpose. Firstly, they act as a reserve in case the front ranks of the “black-shields” should be repulsed, and, being men of more mature age, oppose an almost impregnable front to the enemy, while the “black-shields” can re-form their ranks under cover, and then renew the charge. The second object is, that they serve as a very effectual incitement to the young men to do their duty. They know that behind them is a body of skilled warriors, who are carefully noting all their deeds, and they are equally aware that if they attempt to run away they will be instantly killed by the “white-shields” in their rear. As has already been mentioned, the dearest wish of a young Kaffir’s heart is to become a “white-shield” himself, and there is no prouder day of his life than that in which he bears for the first time the white war shield on his arm, the “isikoko” on his head, and falls into the ranks with those to whom he has so long looked up with admiration and envy.

In order to incite the “black-shields” to the most strenuous exertions, their reward is promised to them beforehand. Just before they set out on their expedition, the young unmarried girls of the tribe are paraded before them, and they are told that each who succeeds in distinguishing himself before the enemy shall be presented with one of those damsels for a wife when he returns. So he does not only receive the barren permission to take a wife, and thus to enrol himself among the men, but the wife is presented to him without pay, his warlike deeds being considered as more than an equivalent for the cows which he would otherwise have been obliged to pay for her.

A curious custom prevails in the households of the white-shield warriors. When one of them goes out to war, his wife takes his sleeping mat, his pillow, and his spoon, and hangs them upon the wall of the hut. Every morning at early dawn she goes and inspects them with loving anxiety, and looks to see whether they cast a shadow or not. As long as they do so, she knows that her husband is alive; but if no shadow should happen to be thrown by them, she feels certain that her husband is dead, and laments his loss as if she had actually seen his dead body. This curious custom irresistibly reminds the reader of certain tales in the “Arabian Nights,” where the life or death of an absent person is known by some object that belonged to him--a knife, for example--which dripped blood as soon as its former owner was dead.

Before Tchaka’s invention of the heavy stabbing-assagai, there was rather more noise than execution in a Kaffir battle, the assagais being received harmlessly on the shields, and no one much the worse for them. But his trained troops made frightful havoc among the enemy, and the destruction was so great, that the Zulus were said to be not men, but eaters of men. The king’s place was in the centre of the line, and in the rear, so that he could see all the proceedings with his own eyes, and could give directions, from time to time, to the favored councillors who were around him, and who acted as aides-de-camp, executing their commissions at their swiftest pace, and then returning to take their post by the sacred person of their monarch.

The commander of each regiment and section of a regiment was supposed to be its embodiment, and on him hung all the blame if it suffered a repulse. Tchaka made no allowance whatever for superior numbers on the part of the enemy, and his warriors knew well that, whatever might be the force opposed to them, they had either to conquer or to die; and, as it was better to die fighting than to perish ignominiously as cowards after the battle, they fought with a frantic valor that was partly inherent in their nature, and was partly the result of the strict and sanguinary discipline under which they fought. After the battle, the various officers are called out, and questioned respecting the conduct of the men under their command. Reward and retribution are equally swift in operation, an immediate advance in rank falling to the lot of those who had shown notable courage, while those who have been even suspected of cowardice are immediately slain.

Sometimes the slaughter after an expedition is terrible, even under the reign of Panda, a very much milder man than his great predecessor. Tchaka has been known to order a whole regiment for execution; and on one occasion he killed all the “white-shields,” ordering the “boys” to assume the head-ring, and take the positions and shields of the slain. Panda, however, is not such a despot as Tchaka, and, indeed, does not possess the irresponsible power of that king. No one ever dared to interfere with Tchaka, knowing that to contradict him was certain death. But when Panda has been disposed to kill a number of his subjects his councillors have interfered, and by their remonstrances have succeeded in stopping the massacre.

Sometimes these wars are carried on in the most bloodthirsty manner, and not only the soldiers in arms, but the women, the old and the young, fall victims to the assagais and clubs of the victorious enemy. Having vanquished the foe, they press on toward the kraals, spearing all the inhabitants, and carrying off all the cattle. Indeed, the “lifting” of cattle on a large scale often constitutes the chief end of a Kaffir war.

Before starting on an expedition the soldiers undergo a series of ceremonies, which are supposed to strengthen their bodies, improve their courage, and propitiate the spirits of their forefathers in their favor. The ceremony begins with the king, who tries to obtain some article belonging to the person of the adverse chief, such as a scrap of any garment that he has worn, a snuff box, the shaft of an assagai, or, indeed, anything that has belonged to him. A portion of this substance is scraped into certain medicines prepared by the witch doctor, and the king either swallows the medicine, or cuts little gashes on different parts of his body, and rubs the medicine into them. This proceeding is supposed to give dominion over the enemy, and is a sign that he will be “eaten up” in the ensuing battle. So fearful are the chiefs that the enemy may thus overcome them, that they use the most minute precautions to prevent any articles belonging to themselves from falling into the hands of those who might make a bad use of them. When a chief moves his quarters, even the floor of his hut is carefully scraped; and Dingan was so very particular on this point that he has been known to burn down an entire kraal, after he left it, in order that no vestige of anything that belonged to himself should fall into evil hands.

After the king, the men take their turn of duty, and a very unpleasant duty it is. An ox is always slain, and one of its legs cut off; and this extraordinary ceremony is thought to be absolutely needful for a successful warfare. Sometimes the limb is severed from the unfortunate animal while it is still alive. On one occasion the witch doctor conceived the brilliant idea of cutting off the leg of a living bull, and then making the warriors eat it raw, tearing the flesh from the bone with their teeth. They won the battle, but the witch doctor got more credit for his powerful charms than did the troops for their courage.

Of course the animal cannot survive very long after such treatment; and when it is dead, the flesh is cut away with assagais, and a part of it chopped into small morsels, in each of which is a portion of some charmed powder. The uncleared bones are thrown among the warriors, scrambled for, and eaten; and when this part of the ceremony has been concluded, the remainder of the flesh is cooked and eaten. A curious process then takes place, a kind of purification by fire, the sparks from a burning brand being blown over them by the witch doctor. Next day they are treated to a dose which acts as a violent emetic; and the ceremonies conclude with a purification by water, which is sprinkled over them by the chief himself. These wild and savage ceremonies have undoubtedly a great influence over the minds of the warriors, who fancy themselves to be under the protection of their ancestors, the only deities which a Kaffir seems to care much about.

As to the department of the commissariat, it varies much with the caprice of the chief. Tchaka always used to send plenty of cattle with his armies, so that they never need fear the weakening of their forces by hunger. He also sent very large supplies of grain and other food. His successors, however, have not been so generous, and force their troops to provide for themselves by foraging among the enemy.

Cattle are certainly taken with them, but not to be eaten. In case they may be able to seize the cattle of the enemy, they find that the animals can be driven away much more easily if they are led by others of their own kind. The cattle that accompany an expedition are therefore employed as guides. They sometimes serve a still more important purpose. Clever as is a Kaffir in finding his way under ordinary circumstances, there are occasions where even his wonderful topographical powers desert him. If, for example, he is in an enemy’s district, and is obliged to travel by night, he may well lose his way, if the nights should happen to be cloudy, and neither moon nor stars be visible; and, if he has a herd of the enemy’s oxen under his charge, he feels himself in a very awkward predicament. He dares not present himself at his kraal without the oxen, or his life would be instantly forfeited; and to drive a herd of oxen to a place whose position he does not know would be impossible. He therefore allows the oxen that he has brought with him to go their own way, and merely follows in their track, knowing that their instinct will surely guide them to their home.

When the Kaffir soldiery succeed in capturing a kraal, their first care is to secure the oxen; and if the inhabitants should have been prudent enough to remove their much loved cattle, their next search is for maize, millet, and other kinds of corn. It is not a very easy matter to find the grain stores, because they are dug in the ground, and, after being filled, are covered over so neatly with earth, that only the depositors know the exact spot. The “isi-baya” is a favorite place for these subterranean stores, because the trampling of the cattle soon obliterates all marks of digging. The isi-baya is, therefore, the first place to be searched: and in some cases the inhabitants have concealed their stores so cleverly that the invaders could not discover them by any other means except digging up the whole of the enclosure to a considerable depth. Now and then, when the inhabitants of a kraal have received notice that the enemy is expected, they remove the grain from the storehouses, and hide it in the bush, closing the granaries again, so as to give the enemy all the trouble of digging, to no purpose.

Panda, who refuses to send provisions with his forces, has sometimes caused them to suffer great hardships by his penurious conduct. On one occasion they discovered a granary with plenty of corn in it, and were so hungry that they could not wait to cook it properly, but ate it almost raw, at the same time drinking large quantities of water. The consequence was, that many of them were so ill that they had to be left behind when the march was resumed, and were detected and killed by the inhabitants of the kraal, who came back from their hiding places in the bush as soon as they saw the enemy move away. In one case, Panda’s army was so badly supplied with provisions that the soldiers were obliged to levy contributions even on his own villages. In some of these kraals the women, who expected what might happen, had emptied their storehouses, and hidden all their food in the bush, so that the hungry soldiers could not even find some corn to grind into meal, nor clotted milk to mix with it. They were so angry at their disappointment that they ransacked the cattle-fold, discovered and robbed the subterranean granaries, and, after cooking as much food as they wanted, carried off a quantity of corn for future rations, and broke to pieces all the cooking vessels which they had used. If they could act thus in their own country, their conduct in an enemy’s land may be easily conjectured.

One reason for the withholding of supplies may probably be due to the mode of fighting of the Zulu armies. They are entirely composed of light infantry, and can be sent to great distances with a rapidity that an ordinary European soldier can scarcely comprehend. The fact is, they carry nothing except their weapons, and have no heavy knapsack nor tight clothing to impede their movements. In fact, the clothing which they wear on a campaign is more for ornament than for covering, and consists chiefly of feathers stuck in the hair. So careful are the chiefs that their soldiers should not be impeded by baggage of any kind, that they are not even allowed to take a kaross with them, but must sleep in the open air without any covering, just as is the case with the guardians of the harem, who are supposed, by virtue of their office, to be soldiers engaged in a campaign.

As to pay, as we understand the word, neither chief nor soldiers have much idea of it. If the men distinguish themselves, the chief mostly presents them with beads and blankets, not as pay to which they have a right, but as a gratuity for which they are indebted to his generosity. As to the “boys,” they seldom have anything, being only on their promotion, and not considered as enjoying the privileges of manhood. This custom is very irritating to the “boys,” some of whom are more than thirty years of age, and who consider themselves quite as effective members of the army as those who have been permitted to wear the head-ring and bear the white shield. Their dissatisfaction with their rank has, however, the good effect of making them desirous of becoming “ama-doda,” and thus increasing their value in time of action.

Sometimes this distinction of rank breaks out in open quarrel, and on one occasion the “men” and the “boys” came to blows with each other, and would have taken to their spears if Panda and his councillors had not personally quelled the tumult. The fact was, that Panda had organized an invasion, and, as soon as they heard of it, the black-shield regiment begged to be sent off at once to the scene of battle. The white-shields, however, suspected what was really the case; namely, that the true destination of the troops was not that which the king had mentioned, and accordingly sat silent, and took no part in the general enthusiasm. Thereupon the “boys” taunted the “men” with cowardice, and said that they preferred their comfortable homes to the hardships of warfare. The “men” retorted that, as they had fought under Tchaka and Dingan, as well as Panda, and had earned their advancement under the eye of chiefs who killed all who did not fight bravely, no one could accuse them of cowardice; whereas the “boys” were ignorant of warfare, and were talking nonsense. These remarks were too true to be pleasant, and annoyed the “boys” so much that they grew insolent, and provoked the “men” to take to their sticks. However, instead of yielding, the “boys” only returned the blows, and if Panda had not interfered, there would have been a serious riot.

His conduct on this occasion shows the strange jealousy which possesses the mind of a Kaffir king. The “men” were, in this case, undoubtedly right, and the “boys” undoubtedly wrong. Yet Panda took the part of the latter, because he was offended with the argument of the “men.” They ought not to have mentioned his predecessors, Tchaka and Dingan, in his presence, as the use of their names implied a slight upon himself. They might have prided themselves as much as they liked, in the victories which they had gained under him, but they had no business to mention the warlike deeds of his predecessors. Perhaps he remembered that those predecessors had been murdered by their own people, and might have an uneasy fear that his own turn would come some day. So he showed his displeasure by sending oxen to the “boys” as a feast, and leaving the “men” without any food. Of course, in the end the “men” had to yield, and against their judgment went on the campaign. During that expedition the smouldering flame broke out several times, the “boys” refusing to yield the post of honor to the “men,” whom they taunted with being cowards and afraid to fight. However, the more prudent counsels of the “men” prevailed, and harmony was at last restored, the “men” and the “boys” dividing into two brigades, and each succeeding in the object for which they set out, without needlessly exposing themselves to danger by attacking nearly impregnable forts.

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We will now proceed to the soldiers themselves, and see how the wonderful discipline of a Kaffir army is carried out in detail. First we will examine the dress of the soldier. Of course, the chief, who is the general in command, will have the place of honor, and we will therefore take the portrait of a well-known Zulu chief as he appears when fully equipped for war. If the reader will refer to page 117, No. 1, he will see a portrait of Goza in the costume which he ordinarily wears. The illustration No. 2, same page, represents him in full uniform, and affords a favorable example of the war dress of a powerful Kaffir chief. He bears on his left arm his great white war shield, the size denoting its object, and the color pointing out the fact that he is a married man. The long, slender feather which is fastened in his head-ring is that of the South African crane, and is a conventional symbol denoting war. There is in my collection a very remarkable war headdress, that was worn by the celebrated Zulu chief, Sandilli, who gave the English so much trouble during the Kaffir war, and proved himself worthy of his rank as a warrior, and his great reputation as an orator. Sandilli was further remarkable because he had triumphed over physical disadvantages, which are all-important in a Kaffir’s eyes.

It has already been mentioned that a deformed person is scarcely ever seen among the Kaffirs, because infants that show signs of deformity of any kind are almost invariably killed as soon as born. Sandilli was one of these unfortunate children, one of his legs being withered as high as the knee, so that he was deprived of all that physical agility that is so greatly valued by Kaffirs, and which has so great a share in gaining promotion. By some strange chance the life of this deformed infant was preserved, and, under the now familiar name of Sandilli, the child grew to be a man, rose to eminence among his own people, took rank as a great chief, and became a very thorn in the sides of the English colonists. After many years of struggle, he at last gave in his submission to English rule, and might be often seen on horseback, dashing about in the headlong style which a Kaffir loves.

The headdress which he was accustomed to wear in time of war is represented in “articles of costume,” page 33, at fig. 4. Instead of wearing a single feather of the crane, Sandilli took the whole breast of the bird, from which the long, slender feathers droop. The skin has been removed from the breast, bent and worked so as to form a kind of cap, and the feathers arranged so that they shall all point upward, leaning rather backward. This curious and valuable headdress was presented to me by G. Ellis, Esq., who brought it from the Cape in 1865. Sandilli belongs to the sub-tribe Amagaika, and is remarkable for his very light color and commanding stature.

It will be seen that both Goza and his councillors wear plenty of feathers on their heads, and that the cap of the left-hand warrior bears some resemblance to that which has just been described. The whole person of the chief is nearly covered with barbaric ornaments. His apron is made of leopards’ tails, and his knees and ankles are decorated with tufts made of the long flowing hair of the Angora goat. Twisted strips of rare furs hang from his neck and chest, while his right hand holds the long knob-kerrie which is so much in use among the Zulu warriors. The portrait of Goza is taken from a photograph. The councillors who stand behind him are apparelled with nearly as much gorgeousness as their chief, and the odd-shaped headdresses which they wear denote the regiments to which they happen to belong. These men, like their chief, were photographed in their full dress.

It has already been mentioned that the soldiers are divided into two great groups; namely, the married men and the bachelors, or, as they are popularly called, the “men” and the “boys.” But each of these great groups, or divisions, if we may use that word in its military sense, is composed of several regiments, varying from six hundred to a thousand or more in strength. Each of these regiments inhabits a single military kraal, or garrison town, and is commanded by the headman of that kraal. Moreover, the regiments are subdivided into companies, each of which is under the command of an officer of lower grade; and so thoroughly is this system carried out, that European soldiers feel almost startled when they find that these savages have organized a system of army management nearly identical with their own. The regiments are almost invariably called by the name of some animal, and the soldiers are placed in them according to their physical characteristics. Thus, the Elephant regiment consists of the largest and strongest warriors, and holds a position like that of our Grenadiers. Then the Lion regiment is composed of men who have distinguished themselves by special acts of daring; while the Springbok regiment would be formed of men noted for their activity, for the quickness with which they can leap about when encumbered with their weapons, and for their speed of foot, and ability to run great distances. They correspond with our light cavalry, and are used for the same purpose.

There are twenty-six of these regiments in the Zulu army, and they can be as easily distinguished by their uniform as those of our own army. The twenty-sixth regiment is the equivalent of our household troops, being the body-guard of the king, and furnishing all the sentinels for the harem. Their uniform is easily distinguishable, and is very simple, being, in fact, an utter absence of all clothing. Only the picked men among the warriors are placed in this distinguished regiment, and neither by day nor night do they wear a scrap of clothing. This seems rather a strange method of conferring an honorable distinction; but entire nudity is quite as much valued by a Kaffir soldier as the decoration of the Bath or Victoria Cross among ourselves.

The first regiment is called Omobapankue, a word that signifies “Leopard-catchers.” Some years ago, when Tchaka was king of the Zulus, a leopard killed one of his attendants. He sent a detachment of the first regiment after the animal, and the brave fellows succeeded in catching it alive, and bearing their struggling prize to the king. In order to reward them for their courage, he gave the first regiment the honorary title of “Leopard-catchers,” which title has been ever since borne by them.

There are three commissioned officers--if such a term may be used--in each regiment: namely the colonel, or “Indoona-e’nkolu,” i. e. the Great Officer; the captain, “N’genana,” and the lieutenant, “N’gena-obzana.” The headman of any kraal goes by the name of Indoona, and he who rules over one of the great garrison towns is necessarily a man of considerable authority and high rank. The king’s councillors are mostly selected from the various Indoonas. Below the lieutenant, there are subordinate officers who correspond almost exactly to the sergeants and corporals of our own armies.

In order to distinguish the men of the different regiments, a peculiar headdress is assigned to each regiment. On these headdresses the natives seem to have exercised all their ingenuity. The wildest fancy would hardly conceive the strange shapes that a Kaffir soldier can make with feathers, and fur, and raw hide. Any kind of feather is seized upon to do duty in a Kaffir soldier’s headdress, but the most valued plumage is that of a roller, whose glittering dress of blue green is worked up into large globular tufts, which are worn upon the back of the head, and on the upper part of the forehead. Such an ornament as this is seldom if ever seen upon the head of a simple warrior, as it is too valuable to be possessed by any but a chief of consideration. Panda is very fond of wearing this beautiful ornament on occasions of state, and sometimes wears two at once, the one on the front of his head-ring, and the other attached to the crown of the head.

The raw hide is stripped of its fur by being rolled up and buried for a day or two, and is then cut and moulded into the most fantastic forms, reminding the observer of the strange devices with which the heroes of the Niebelungen decorated their helmets. Indeed, some of these headdresses of the Kaffir warriors might easily be mistaken at a little distance for the more classical though not more elaborate helmet of the ancient German knights. The soldiers which are here represented belong to two different regiments of the Zulu army, and have been selected as affording good examples of the wild and picturesque uniform which is adopted by these dusky troops. In some headdresses the fur is retained on the skin, and thus another effect is obtained.

The object of all this savage decoration is twofold: firstly, to distinguish the soldiers of the different regiments, and, secondly to strike terror into the enemy. Both their objects are very thoroughly accomplished, for the uniforms of the twenty-six regiments are very dissimilar to each other, and all the neighboring tribes stand in the greatest dread of the Amazulu, who, they say, are not men, but eaters of men.

Beside the regular regiments, there is always a body-guard of armed men whose duty it is to attend the chief and obey his orders. Each chief has his own body-guard, but that of the king is not only remarkable for its numerical strength, but for the rank of its members. Dingan, for example, had a body-guard that mustered several hundred strong, and every member of it was a man of rank. It was entirely composed of Indoonas from all parts of the country under his command. With the admirable organizing power which distinguishes the Kaffir chiefs, he had arranged his Indoonas so methodically, that each man had to serve in the body-guard for a certain time, until he was relieved by his successor. This simple plan allowed the king to exercise a personal supervision over the ruling men of his dominions, and, on the other side, the subordinate chiefs were able to maintain a personal communication with their monarch, and to receive their orders directly from himself.

It has already been mentioned that, after a battle, the king calls his soldiers together, and holds a review. One of these assemblages is a most astonishing sight, and very few Europeans have been privileged to see it. This review is looked upon by the troops with the greatest reverence, for few of them know whether at the close of it they may be raised to a higher rank or be lying dead in the bush. As to the “boys,” especially those who are conscious that they have behaved well in the fight, they look to it with hope, as it presents a chance of their elevation to the ranks of the “men,” and their possession of the coveted white shield. Those who are not so sure of themselves are very nervous about the review, and think themselves extremely fortunate if they are not pointed out to the king as bad soldiers, and executed on the spot.

The review takes place in the great enclosure of one of the garrison towns, and the troops form themselves into a large circle. It is a curious fact that not even in military matters has the Kaffir an idea of forming in line, and that the evolutions, such as they are, are all carried out in curved lines, which are the abhorrence of European tacticians. The white and black shield divisions are separated from each other in each regiment, and the whole army “stands at ease,” with the shield resting on the ground, and the whole body covered by it as high as the lips. They stand motionless as statues, and in death-like silence await the coming of their king.

After the customary lapse of one hour or so, the king, with his councillors, chief officers, and particular friends, comes into the circle, attended by his chair bearer, his shield bearer, his page, and a servant or two. The shield bearer has an honorable, though perilous, service to perform. He has to hold the shield so as to shade the royal person from the sun, and should he happen, through any inadvertence, to allow the king to feel a single sunbeam, he may think himself fortunate if he escape with his life, while a severe punishment is the certain result.

The chair is placed in the centre of the circle, in order for his sable majesty to repose himself after the exertion of walking nearly two hundred yards. Large baskets full of beer are placed near the royal chair, and before he can proceed to business the king is obliged to recruit his energies with beer and snuff, both of which are handed to him by his pages.

He next orders a number of cattle to be driven past him, and points to certain animals which he intends to be killed in honor of his guests. As each ox is pointed out, a warrior leaps forward with his stabbing-assagai, and kills the animal with a single blow, piercing it to the heart with the skill of a practised hand. Much as a Kaffir loves his oxen, the sight of the dying animal always seems to excite him to a strange pitch of enthusiasm, and the king contemplates with great satisfaction the dying oxen struggling in the last pangs of death, and the evolutions of the survivors, who snuff and snort at the blood of their comrades, and then dash wildly away in all directions, pursued by their keepers, and with difficulty guided to their own enclosures. The king then rises, and, with the assistance of his attendants, walks, or rather waddles, round the inner ring of warriors as fast as his obesity will permit him, resting every now and then on his chair, which is carried after him by his page, and refreshing himself at rather short intervals with beer.

Next comes the most important part of the proceedings. The chief officers of the various regiments that have been engaged give in their reports to the king, who immediately acts upon them. When a warrior has particularly distinguished himself, the king points to him, and calls him by name. Every man in the army echoes the name at the full pitch of his voice, and every arm is pointed at the happy soldier, who sees his ambition as fully gratified as it is possible to be. Almost beside himself with exultation at his good fortune, he leaps from the ranks, “and commences running, leaping, springing high into the air, kicking, and flourishing his shield, and going through the most surprising and agile manœuvres imaginable; now brandishing his weapons, stabbing, parrying, and retreating; and again vaulting into the ranks, light of foot and rigid of muscle, so rapidly that the eye can scarcely follow his evolutions.” Sometimes six or seven of these distinguished warriors will be dancing simultaneously in different parts of the ring, while their companions encourage them with shouts and yells of applause. Many of the “boys” are at these reviews permitted to rank among the “men,” and sometimes, when a whole regiment of the black-shields has behaved especially well, the king has ordered them all to exchange their black for the white shield, and to assume the head-ring which marks their rank as ama-doda, or “men.”

Next come the terrible scenes when the officers point out those who have disgraced themselves in action. The unfortunate soldiers are instantly dragged out of the ranks, their shields and spears taken from them, and, at the king’s nod, they are at once killed and their bodies thrown into the bush. Sometimes they are beaten to death with knob-kerries, and sometimes their necks are twisted by the executioner laying one hand on the crown of the head and the other under the chin. The wretched sufferers never think of resisting, nor even of appealing for mercy; and to such a pitch of obedience did Tchaka bring this fierce and warlike nation, that men guiltless of any offence have been known to thank him for their punishment while actually dying under the strokes of the executioners.

When the double business of rewarding the brave soldiers and punishing the cowards has been completed, the professional minstrels or praisers come forward, and recite the various honorary titles of the king in a sort of recitative, without the least pause between the words, and in most stentorian voices. Perhaps the term Heralds would not be very inappropriate to these men. The soldiers take up the chorus of praise, and repeat the titles of their ruler in shouts that are quite deafening to an unaccustomed ear. Each title is assumed or given to the king in commemoration of some notable deed, or on account of some fancy that may happen to flit through the royal brain in a dream; and, as he is continually adding to his titles, the professional reciters had need possess good memories, as the omission of any of them would be considered as an insult.

Some of Panda’s titles have already been mentioned, but some of the others are so curious that they ought not to be omitted. For example, he is called “Father of men,” i. e. the ama-doda, or married warriors; “He who lives forever”--a compliment on his surviving the danger of being killed by Dingan; “He who is high as the mountains”--“He who is high as the heavens”--this being evidently the invention of a clever courtier who wished to “cap” the previous compliment; “Elephant’s calf;” “Great black one;” “Bird that eats other birds”--in allusion to his conquests in battle; “Son of a cow;” “Noble elephant,” and a hundred other titles, equally absurd in the mind of a European, but inspiring great respect in that of a Kaffir.

When all this tumultuous scene is over, the review closes, just as our reviews do, with a “march past.” The king sits in his chair, as a general on his horse, while the whole army defiles in front of him, each soldier as he passes bowing to the ground, and lowering his shield and assagais, as we droop our colors in the presence of the sovereign. In order to appear to the best advantage on these occasions, and to impress the spectators with the solemnity of the ceremony, the king dresses himself with peculiar care, and generally wears a different costume at each review. The dress which he usually wears at his evening receptions, when his officers come to report themselves and to accompany him in his daily inspection of his herds, is the usual apron or kilt, made either of leopard’s tails or monkey’s skin, a headdress composed of various feathers and a round ball of clipped worsted, while his arms are decorated with rings of brass and ivory.

It is easy to see how this custom of holding a review almost immediately after the battle, and causing either reward or punishment to come swiftly upon the soldiers, must have added to the efficiency of the armies, especially when the system was carried out by a man like its originator Tchaka, an astute, sanguinary, determined, and pitiless despot. Under the two successive reigns of Dingan and Panda, and especially under the latter, the efficiency of the Zulu army--the eaters of men--has notably diminished, this result being probably owing to the neighborhood of the English colony at Natal, in which the Zulu warriors can find a refuge when they fear that their lives are endangered. Formerly, the men had no possible refuge, so that a Kaffir was utterly in the power of his chief, and the army was therefore more of a machine than it is at present.

Reviews such as have been described are not only held in war time, but frequently take place in times of peace. It has been mentioned that the king of the Zulu tribe has twenty-six war-kraals, or garrison towns, and he generally contrives to visit each of them in the course of the year. Each time that he honors the kraal by his presence the troops are turned out, and a review is held, though not always accompanied by the lavish distribution of rewards and punishment which distinguishes those which are held after battle.

The vicissitudes of Kaffir warfare are really remarkable from a military point of view. Originally, the only idea which the Kaffirs had of warfare was a desultory kind of skirmishing, in which each man fought “for his own hand,” and did not reckon on receiving any support from his comrades, each of whom was engaged in fight on his own account. In fact, war was little more than a succession of duels, and, if a warrior succeeded in killing the particular enemy to whom he was opposed, he immediately sought another. But the idea of large bodies of men acting in concert, and being directed by one mind, was one that had not occurred to the Kaffirs until the time of Tchaka.

When that monarch introduced a system and a discipline into warfare, the result was at once apparent. Individual skirmishers had no chance against large bodies of men, mutually supporting each other, moving as if actuated by one mind, and, under the guidance of a single leader, advancing with a swift but steady impetuosity that the undisciplined soldiers of the enemy could not resist. Discipline could not be turned against the Zulus, for Tchaka left the conquered tribes no time to organize themselves into armies, even if they had possessed leaders who were capable of that task. His troops swept over the country like an army of locusts, consuming everything on their way, and either exterminating the various tribes, or incorporating them in some capacity or other among the Zulus.

In truth, his great policy was to extend the Zulu tribe, and from a mere tribe to raise them into a nation. His object was, therefore, not so much to destroy as to absorb, and, although he did occasionally extirpate a tribe that would not accept his conditions, it was for the purpose of striking terror into others, and proving to them the futility of resistance. Those that had accepted his offers he incorporated with his own army, and subjected to the same discipline, but took care to draught them off into different regiments, so that they could not combine in a successful revolt. The result of this simple but far-seeing policy was, that in a few years the Zulu tribe, originally small, had, beside its regular regiments on duty, some twelve or fifteen thousand men always ready for any sudden expedition, and at the end of five or six years the Zulu king was paramount over the whole of Southern Africa, the only check upon him being the European colonies. These he evidently intended to sweep away, but was murdered before he could bring his scheme to maturity. Tchaka’s system was followed by Moselekatze in the north of Kaffirland, who contrived to manage so well that the bulk of his army belonged to Bechuanan and other tribes, some of whose customs he adopted.

The military system of Tchaka prevailed, as must be the case when there is no very great inequality between the opposing forces, and discipline is all on one side. But, when discipline is opposed to discipline, and the advantage of weapons lies on the side of the latter, the consequences are disastrous to the former. Thus it has been with the Kaffir tribes. The close ranks of warriors, armed with shield and spear, were irresistible when opposed to men similarly armed, but without any regular discipline, but, when they came to match themselves against fire-arms, they found that their system was of little value.

The shield could resist the assagai well enough, but against the bullet it was powerless, and though the stabbing-assagai was a terrible weapon when the foe was at close quarters, it was of no use against an enemy who could deal destruction at the distance of several hundred yards. Moreover, the close and compact ranks, which were so efficacious against the irregular warriors of the country, became an absolute element of weakness when the soldiers were exposed to heavy volleys from the distant enemy. Therefore, the whole course of battle was changed when the Zulus fought against the white man and his fire-arms, and they found themselves obliged to revert to the old system of skirmishing, though the skirmishers fought under the commands of the chief, instead of each man acting independently, as had formerly been the case.

We remember how similar changes have taken place in our European armies, when the heavy columns that used to be so resistless were shattered by the fire of single ranks, and how the very massiveness of the column rendered it a better mark for the enemy’s fire, and caused almost every shot to take effect.

Tchaka was not always successful, for he forgot that cunning is often superior to force, and that the enemy’s spears are not the most dangerous weapons in his armory. The last expedition that Tchaka organized was a singularly unsuccessful one. He had first sent an army against a tribe which had long held out against him, and which had the advantage of a military position so strong that even the trained Zulu warriors, who knew that failure was death, could not succeed in taking it. Fortunately for Tchaka, some Europeans were at the time in his kraal, and he obliged them to fight on his behalf. The enemy had, up to that time, never seen nor heard of fire-arms; and when they saw their comrades falling without being visibly struck, they immediately yielded, thinking that the spirits of their forefathers were angry with them, and spat fire out of their mouths. This, indeed, was the result which had been anticipated by the bearers of the fire-arms in question, for they thought that, if the enemy were intimidated by the strange weapons, great loss of life would be saved on both sides. The battle being over, the conquered tribe were subsidized as tributaries, according to Tchaka’s custom, and all their cattle given up.

The success of this expedition incited Tchaka to repeat the experiment, and his troops had hardly returned when he sent them off against a chief named Sotshangana. This chief had a spy in the camp of Tchaka, and no sooner had the army set off than the spy contrived to detach himself from the troops, and went off at full speed to his master. Sotshangana at once sent out messengers to see whether the spy had told the truth, and when he learned that the Zulu army was really coming upon him, he laid a trap into which the too confident enemy fell at once. He withdrew his troops from his kraals, but left everything in its ordinary position, so as to look as if no alarm had been taken. The Zulu regiments, seeing no signs that their presence was expected, took possession of the kraal, feasted on its provisions, and slept in fancied security. But, at the dead of night, Sotshangana, accompanied by the spy, whom he had rewarded with the command of a regiment, came on the unsuspecting Zulus, fell upon them while sleeping, and cut one regiment nearly to pieces. The others rallied, and drove off their foes; but they were in an enemy’s country, where every hand was against them.

Their wonderful discipline availed them little. They got no rest by day or by night. They were continually harassed by attacks, sometimes of outlying skirmishers, who kept them always on the alert, sometimes of large forces of soldiers who had to be met in battle array. They could obtain no food, for the whole country was against them, and the weaker tribes, whom they attacked in order to procure provisions, drove their cattle into the bush, and set fire to their own corn-fields. It is said also, and with some likelihood of truth, that the water was poisoned as well as the food destroyed; and the consequence was, that the once victorious army was obliged to retreat as it best could, and the shattered fragments at last reached their own country, after suffering almost incredible hardships. It was in this campaign that the soldiers were obliged to eat their shields. At least twenty thousand of the Zulu warriors perished in this expedition, three-fourths having died from privation, and the others fallen by the spears of the enemy.

What would have been Tchaka’s fury at so terrible a defeat may well be imagined; but he never lived to see his conquered warriors. It is supposed, and with some show of truth, that he had been instrumental in causing the death of his own mother, Mnande. This word signifies “amiable” or “pleasant,” in the Zulu tongue, and never was a name more misapplied. She was violent, obstinate, and wilful to a degree, and her son certainly inherited these traits of his mother’s character, besides superadding a few of his own. She was the wife of the chief of the Amazulu, then a small and insignificant tribe, who lived on the banks of the White Folosi river, and behaved in such a manner that she could not be kept in her husband’s kraal. It may be imagined that such a mother and son were not likely to agree very well together; and when the latter came to be a man, he was known to beat his mother openly, without attempting to conceal the fact, but rather taking credit to himself for it.

Therefore, when she died, her family had some good grounds for believing that Tchaka had caused her to be killed, and determined on revenge. Hardly had that ill-fated expedition set out, when two of her sisters came to Dingan and Umhlangani, the brothers of Tchaka, and openly accused him of having murdered Mnande, urging the two brothers to kill him and avenge their mother’s blood. They adroitly mentioned the absence of the army, and the terror in which every soldier held his bloodthirsty king, and said that if, on the return of the army, Tchaka was dead, the soldiers would be rejoiced at the death of the tyrant, and would be sure to consider as their leaders the two men who had freed them from such a yoke. The two brothers briefly answered, “Ye have spoken!” but the women seemed to know that by those words the doom of Tchaka was settled, and withdrew themselves, leaving their nephews to devise their own plans for the murder of the king.

This was no easy business. They would have tried poison, but Tchaka was much too wary to die such a death, and, as force was clearly useless, they had recourse to treachery. They corrupted the favorite servant of Tchaka, a man named Bopa, and having armed themselves with unshafted heads of assagais, which could be easily concealed, they proceeded to the king’s house, where he was sitting in conference with several of his councillors, who were unarmed, according to Kaffir etiquette. The treacherous Bopa began his task by rudely interrupting the councillors, accusing them of telling falsehoods to the king, and behaving with an amount of insolence to which he well knew they would not submit. As they rose in anger, and endeavored to seize the man who had insulted them, Dingan and Umhlangani stole behind Tchaka, whose attention was occupied by the extraordinary scene, and stabbed him in the back. He attempted to escape, but was again stabbed by Bopa, and fell dying to the ground, where he was instantly slain. The affrighted councillors tried to fly, but were killed by the same weapons that had slain their master.

This dread scene was terminated by an act partly resulting from native ferocity, and partly from superstition. The two murderers opened the still warm body of their victim, and drank the gall. Their subsequent quarrel, and the accession of Dingan to the throne, has already been mentioned. The new king would probably have been murdered by the soldiers on their return, had he not conciliated them by relaxing the strict laws of celibacy which Tchaka had enforced, and by granting indulgences of various kinds to the troops. As to the dead Mnande, the proximate cause of Tchaka’s death, more will be said on a future page.

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