Although Mbuyazi and his supporters had been destroyed, except for a few who had escaped into Natal, Cetshwayo soon found that his succession as king of the Zulu nation was by no means assured for there were other royal princes, the offspring of King Mpande and his many brides, ready to assert themselves. There was for instance his half-brother, Prince Hamu kaNzibe, who fretted that although senior in age to Cetshwayo he stood far behind him in the succession because his mother had not been selected by Mpande as his ‘Great Wife’, a situation that, as Cetshwayo would later discover, would not deter Hamu’s ambition to become king. Hamu and his supporters had, in fact, fought staunchly for Cetshwayo at Ndondakusuka. The real reason for such apparent loyalty could well have been Hamu’s plan to rid himself of Mbuyazi before setting about the elimination of Cetshwayo. Unlike other princes, Hamu lacked Mpande’s favour, but not so Mthongu, Mpande’s fourteen-year-old son by Nomantshali, a junior wife greatly loved by the ageing king. Nomantshali was ambitious for her son and, as Cetshwayo came to realise, it was her desire, as was Mpande’s, that Mthongu become king in preference to all others.
On realisation of this new and perilous threat to his ambitions, Cetshwayo determined to act with the ruthlessness and expedience that the situation demanded. He summoned Bhejana, the head of his household and a captain of the nGobamakhosi Regiment, and ordered him to proceed at once to Nomanthali’s village and to, forthwith, kill her and all her children. But on Bhejana’s arrival at Nomanthali’s homestead only her younger son Mpoyiyana was present, Nomanthali and Mthongu having gone to stay with other royal relatives. Fearful that his mission on behalf of Cetshwayo was in jeopardy, Bhejana took Mpoyiyana prisoner and hastened to kwaNodwengu, the royal capital, where he mistakenly believed Mthongu and his mother to be. On arrival, and with great bravado, Bhejana was blatantly disrespectful to Mpande and demanded that Nomanthali and her son present themselves. The old king, furious but impotent, repeatedly denied – as was quite true – the presence of his wife and son putting Bhejana into an almost uncontrollable rage, as he dared not go into the royal isigodlo (‘harem’) to seek them out knowing full well that to do so as a commoner, the penalty would be death, irrespective of under whose orders he might be acting. But the young Mpoyiyana was still his prisoner, and were he to slay him it would not be seen as so serious an offence as that of a commoner entering the isigodlo. So Bhejana and his men dragged Mpoyiyana from Mpande’s grasp and with the boy wailing with terror, took him off and killed him.
15. Sigcwelegewele kaMhlekeleke, commander of the elite Nkobamakosi/nGobamakhosi Regiment. (KZN Archives, Pietermaritzburg)
When this bungled operation was reported to Cetshwayo, he was abashed and infuriated that his father had been subjected to such indignity and grief. Nevertheless, the pursuit of Nomanthali and Mthongu continued and eventually the mother was tracked down and killed. Mthongu, however, evaded his pursuers, escaping into Boer-held territory where he would become a pawn in future negotiations: his life for more land.
It was against this background in 1861, only months after Mthongu’s escape, that the Natal government, in the form of Theophilus Shepstone, decided to send a deputation to Mpande. Shepstone was aware that (after Mthongu’s escape) the Boers of the Vryheid Republic, which was little more than a bankrupt white banana republic, had concluded a deal with Cetshwayo, whereby they would hand over Mthongu – on condition that he was not harmed – in exchange for land, land that would include a corridor to the sea for the use of both the Vryheid and Transvaal Boers. The British – and especially Shepstone – believed this was not in the best interests of the Empire and Shepstone took it upon himself to assess the situation and scuttle Boer ambitions by a personal visit to the Zulu kingdom.
16. Theophilus Shepstone at about the time of Cetshwayo’s coronation. (Campbell Collection, Durban)
Shepstone, like Dunn, was also a man of impressive colonial lineage, having arrived in Africa in 1820 at the age of three with his settler parents. Growing up amongst the Xhosa, whose language is similar to that of the Zulus, he was acting as an interpreter to the military by the time he was fourteen years of age and it was in that capacity that he had accompanied Major Charters to Natal in 1838. It will be remembered that Charters’ expedition remained for but a while and then departed. When the colony of Natal was proclaimed some five years later, Shepstone returned and acquired the position of Diplomatic Agent to all the black people that had settled themselves within the colony. Thereafter, he spread his net further afield, making contacts with chiefs and monarchs of the many clans and tribes beyond the borders of Natal, so much so that any dealings that black people might contemplate with the whites – and vice versa – were in the first instance made by, or through, Shepstone. As one native potentate put it: ‘My entry into the white man’s domain was ever through Shepstone’s door.’
Although Shepstone would have regarded his expedition into Zululand at that particular time of recent upheaval, as a dangerous one, he had no intention of showing the least concern, making his way unarmed to Mpande’s capital by a meandering route in order that as many people as possible would know of his coming. Mpande, aware of the prestige with which his approaching guest was held, summoned Cetshwayo to be present at the forthcoming indaba (conference) that was to take place at kwaNodwengu. Cetshwayo, torn between resentment that he should be ordered to listen to what would undoubtedly be a lecture by the white man and curiosity as to the real purpose of Shepstone’s visit, found himself in a quandary. However, believing that his father might well persuade Shepstone – and through him the Natal government – to support the nomination of Mthongu as the future king, Cetshwayo truculently decided to attend, making it clear, however, by taking with him a fully armed contingent of the crack uThulwana Regiment, thathe was the power in Zululand.
When Cetshwayo arrived at Nodwengu at the head of his belligerent warriors, he was in a pugnacious mood, made immediately more dangerous by the news that Shepstone’s head man, Ngoza, who in Cetshwayo’s eyes was nothing more than a commoner and Natal kaffir, had had the effrontery to enter the royal isigodlo. His purpose, Cetshwayo had pondered, might well have been to convey a message from Mthongu. But whatever Ngoza’s purpose, it mattered little, he had defiled a royal place and the penalty, for a common dog such as he, was immediate execution. This boil of contention that was bound to erupt, was at first not mentioned, instead Cetshwayo, demanded of Shepstone that Mthongu be delivered back to Zululand. When it became apparent that Shepstone would never agree, Cetshwayo became distraught and ordered his warriors to perform. They, as distraught as their commander, began to stamp and shout in frenzied rhythm, the climax of which could well have been the slaughter of Shepstone and all his followers. Mpande did his best to halt the maddened dance but, despite his ministers belabouring the prancing warriors with clubs and sticks, it continued towards its frightening climax. Then Shepstone rose. He slowly raised his arm and pointed over and beyond the wall of warriors. Such was his presence that his gesture had the power to pause the dancers where belabouring clubs had failed. In the moment of silence that followed, Shepstone, with the demeanour of a Zulu nobleman spoke:
I know your purpose is to kill me. That is an easy thing to do as I come among you unarmed. But I tell you Zulus that for every drop of blood that falls to the ground, ten thousand red coated soldiers will come out of the sea yonder, from the country of which Natal is but one of its cattle kraals, and will bitterly avenge me.
The spell was broken. It would not be a repeat of the killing of Retief after all. The spear points were lowered as the warriors gazed, seemingly compelled, towards the east as though expecting a redcoat army to crest the horizon at any moment. In the calm that followed, the meeting eventually proceeded with decorum and purpose. (It must be mentioned that Shepstone’s splendid act of bravado was recorded by Henry Rider Haggard, the future author of King Solomon’s Mines and was, most probably, recounted to him by Shepstone himself some seventeen years later after the event, at the time when Haggard, twenty-two years of age and impressionable, was employed by Shepstone as a secretary.) To Cetshwayo’s delight, Shepstone supported his claim to which Mpande formerly concurred. Cetshwayo would indeed be the next king of the Zulu nation – and he would not have long to wait. Thus a veil of tranquillity again obscured the violent passions of disappointed contenders for the throne. The unhurried life of the nation meandered along while traders and hunters from the colony travelled the kingdom unafraid.
In due course, on 18 October 1872, Mpande, unlike the two previous Zulu monarchs, Shaka and Dingane, who had suffered violent deaths, died peacefully bringing to a close a relatively undramatic reign of almost thirty years. His passing was not immediately made known. In keeping with Zulu custom at the time, the death of a monarch was kept secret in order that his successor could rally sufficient support to daunt any opposition.
The old king was buried with many personal items accompanying him to the grave. It was customary for household staff, and perhaps a wife, to be slain in order that they could accompany the king to the next world. Mpande, when close to death, and well aware of the fate in store for his personal body servant and friend of many years, advised him to flee and escape the fate of ‘a mat’ upon which the dead king would lie during his passage to the spirit world.
If Mpande’s funeral at kwaNodwengu was not a moment of great pageantry, the next public event, Cetshwayo’s coronation, would be the most spectacular ceremony ever to take place in Zululand. Yet, amongst his brothers and powerful chiefs, there were still those who, given the opportunity – or those who were brave enough to manipulate one – would contest Cetshwayo’s succession. Well aware of his would-be rivals, Cetshwayo prudently sought the support of his colonial neighbours who would also be anxious that the power in Zululand be transferred as peacefully as possible. Thus high-ranking messengers, including John Dunn, carrying a formal request for colonial participation in the forthcoming coronation ceremony were despatched to Pietermaritzburg:
The nation asks that Somtseu [Shepstone] may prepare himself to go to Zululand when the winter is near and establish what is wanting among the Zulu people, for he knows all about it, and occupies the position of Father to the King’s children. Another embassy will be sent to fetch him when the time comes; we ask only that he may prepare.
The Zulu nation wishes to be more at one with the government of Natal; it desires to be covered with the same mantle: it wishes Somtseu to go and establish this unity by the charge which he will deliver when he arranges the family of the King, and that he shall breathe the spirit by which the nation is to be governed.
We are also commissioned to urge what has already been urged so frequently, that the government of Natal be extended so as to intervene between the Zulus and the territory of the Transvaal Republic.
Shepstone, well aware of the prestige he would acquire in the role of kingmaker set about his preparations and determined that on this occasion, unlike his visit to Mpande of 1861, he would proceed with all the pomp and circumstance that his status and the occasion demanded. He would be accompanied by an armed escort, including two pieces of artillery, drawn from Natal’s mini-army of week-end soldiers. These were not red soldiers; these were colonial cousins who wore blue coats, a colour that, five years later, would save many of them from death during the rout that followed the Battle of Isandlwana: warriors would bypass fleeing colonials in preference to overtaking and killing redcoated Imperial infantry. But all that was in the future. For the present, a total of 123 men, including bandsmen, had been assembled from almost a dozen different units. The cavalcade set off for the Zulu capital on 1 August 1873:
The different contingents mustered at Baynes Drift, and were joined the same evening by the Secretary for Native Affairs [Shepstone]. The march yesterday was intentionally a short one to guard against any contingency which might arise from the unaccustomed moving of such a large number of men and material. Most perfect good humour and discipline prevailed, and the conduct has been all that could be desired. The band of the Maritzburg Rifles performed each night to an appreciative audience. Along the road we have been met with great hospitality and civility . . .
Leaving the Umhloti early, we breakfast near a coffee plantation, a stream nearby being resorted to by every one to remove traces of the dusty ride . . . We camped at Rev. Grout’s mission station having so far experienced good weather . . .
Tugela, 6 th August,
. . . Great difficulty experienced in crossing Sinquasi Drift. The column leaves here tomorrow and crosses into Zululand . . .
8th August,
Crossed the Tugela today and camped a mile from the drift. The men were now informed that they were under the Mutiny Act. Spare time is occupied in cooking, looking after horses and playing cricket and quoits. . . .
9th August,
On the banks of the Tugela, from which it would take us eight days to reach the royal kraal. Zulus prove very friendly, bringing eggs etc. to sell. Health of all excellent. . . .
Amatikulu, 10th August,
Reached here yesterday after a long trek of sixteen and a half miles. The principal wagon stuck in a drift until 9pm; thirty-six oxen being inspanned to pull it out. A present of fat oxen was received from Cetshwayo. The camp was pitched with military precision. . . . Church parade was held this morning, the men formed a square and a short service was read by Major Giles. The band played after the service. Our start was delayed this morning by horses straying, four or five still being missing.
St. Pauls, 12th August,
A further instalment of fat oxen in good condition was received from Cetshwayo. Natives prove very friendly, with women, girls, and children collecting to see the column go past. . . . The band played to the delight of the crowd of our visitors. . . .
White Umfolozi, 17th August,
The column encamped here on the edge of the bush country and fifteen miles from Nodwengu, the royal kraal. Owing to the death of Masiphula, the Zulu Prime Minister, it was necessary to stay here for four days. The country around is very broken and stony. Athletic sports, etc. were held, also a cricket match between the coast and up-country volunteers, which resulted in a win for the latter. . . .
25th August,
The camp was moved back to day about 400 yards for sanitary reasons. A party was formed to inspect the scene of the murder of Piet Retief and his followers. Traces of many huts were found. [The old capital of Mgungundlovu.] The judgement seat was seen, beads etc. being taken as relics. On returning to camp the welcome order was given to push on to Nodwengu tomorrow. . . . The final halting place was reached this morning and camp was pitched close to a Norwegian mission station [that of the Rev. Schroeder], in sight of three of the royal kraals. . . . On the line of march the troops were disposed as follows: An advance guard of twenty men followed by a troop, then Mr. Shepstone’s wagon, followed by another troop, succeeded by two guns of the Durban Artillery. . . . The band played in the evening, exciting great curiosity. . . . After the camp had been formed, several of the leading men of the country came to offer their hearty welcome. The band, which was hidden from view by a small bush, struck up during the interview. They had never heard or seen such a thing before and, until brought nearer at their request, it was amusing to watch the struggle between their dignity and their curiosity, and to note that, what seldom occurs with a Zulu, the latter triumphed. . . .
28th August,
Cetshwayo paid his long put-off visit to Mr. Shepstone. He approached the camp at 3 pm., accompanied by about fifteen hundred followers. Major Giles had prepared the escort to receive him, the mounted volunteers with the artillery being drawn up on the right. The shaking of hands by Mr. Shepstone was the signal for firing of a salute by the Durban Artillery. Cetshwayo expressed his pleasure and thankfulness at the coming of the expedition, walked towards the camp, listened to the band, and watched the movements of the mounted volunteers, which were most creditably performed, considering the nature of the ground.
On Monday, 1st September, preparations were early commenced to carry out the coronation. A large marquee, brought for the purpose, was erected in the centre space of the military kraal, being decorated inside with shawls, blankets and other showy articles which had been brought as presents. At noon the whole of the party proceeded to the Umbambongwenga kraal, where the ceremony was to be performed . . . The brilliant uniforms of the officers formed a contrast with the costumes of the clergy and the miscellaneous dresses of the party. The mounted volunteers, artillery, and band of the Maritzburg Rifles formed up on the right of the marquee; Cetshwayo and his councillors with Mr. Shepstone and his party being on the left . . .
Thus did the diarist of the Natal Carbineers contingent record the benign progress of Shepstone’s column, giving the impression of peaceful accord with their Zulu hosts. Yet, unbeknown to his escort and the many other colonial hangers-on that had mostly joined the column out of curiosity, Shepstone fumed: it was he who was to have been the kingmaker but, it was suddenly disclosed, Cetshwayo had in fact already been crowned king.
John Dunn, who by this time had resided in Zululand for close on seventeen years, will explain, but first it must be mentioned that Dunn had become a friend and confidant to Cetshwayo and in his own right a power in the land; he was also accepted in the highest social circles on both sides of the Tugela. Through his friendship with Cetshwayo he had acquired considerable wealth; so much so that he had, as a coronation gift for Cetshwayo, procured the finest carriage, drawn by four matched grey horses, that money could buy.
Although Cetshwayo wanted the visible backing of Britain in the form of Shepstone’s anointing of him, most of the old chiefs and ministers of the kingdom regarded the participation of whites on such a sacred occasion as unacceptable interference. And, as Cetshwayo’s succession – even on the threshold of his coronation – was far from guaranteed, as will be seen, he decided to go along with the dictates of his councillors and first be crowned traditionally; then, having kept the colonials waiting, participate in Shepstone’s ceremony. But let Dunn describe the events, as thousands of warriors began to gather, that transpired whilst Shepstone, affronted and infuriated, was made to wait.
17. The smart carriage, drawn by white horses, that John Dunn gave to Cetshwayo to mark his coronation.
The ground round about where the photographer was stationed was selected for the assembly, and as soon as we – i.e., Cetshwayo, myself, and the staff of the former – arrived on the spot, the north-eastern party [Chief Sibebu’s warriors] moved in sight, and, on getting about half-a-mile from us, they commenced to form in order. From what I could make out from the remarks made to me, I gathered that our people were beginning to feel uneasy, and now believed in the rumour that Cetshwayo was to be taken by force. [It was also rumoured that Mbuyazi had not died in battle with his brother so many years before and that he was now, accompanied by Shepstone, on his way to contest Cetshwayo’s succession.] I now thought it time to speak to Cetshwayo, which I did, and while I was talking, Sibebu’s party made an advance. Uhamu, Umnyamana, and their party were sitting on a mound to the west, so that if mischief was meant, we were between two fires, which showed very bad generalship on the part of Cetshwayo. Usibepu’s party first advanced slowly, and then came on with a rush, and some of Cetshwayo’s staff began to prepare for flight. I alone told Cetshwayo that unless the advancing party was stopped, there would be a fight. I had nothing in my hand, by the way, but my hunting-crop. From the expression on Cetshwayo’s face when he answered me, I could see that he had never considered the danger. Looking round to the hill on the west of us, I could see that the party with Uhamu had also taken alarm. I could now see that Cetshwayo began to take a more serious view of the situation. He gave me quiet orders for our party to arm themselves, as we had come on to the ground unarmed – at least Cetshwayo’s followers had, but I had 200 of my hunters with me. These were always in the habit of carrying their guns and ammunition with them, so that I, with them, would make a stand. Fortunately, on the arrival of Cetshwayo’s messengers, the leaders of Usibepu’s party had influence enough to stop the advance, or else there certainly would have been great slaughter. This fact I found out long afterwards. As soon as I saw the check in Usibepu’s party, I left Cetshwayo, who I could see did not know exactly how to act, and passing through my men to give them confidence – telling them, however, to prepare for the worst – and after telling one of my men who I knew to be a bad shot, that, in the event of a scrimmage, I would take his gun, I walked quietly up to where Umnyamana was sitting. [Dunn then assured Mnyamana kaNgqengelele that the arming of his men was only a precaution and that neither he nor the king had anything to fear. Dunn remained with Mnyamana and Hamu until Cetshwayo came along.] He came up to where I was, and the whole of the parties came up and formed a great circle. As each lot came up it fired blank charges, but they fired so close to one another in some instances that there was a serious danger of being knocked over by the powder. In fact, Sedcweledcwele, one of the principal men on our side and Colonel of the Ngobamakosi Regiment, had a charge so closely fired behind him that the paper and wadding from the gun cut a hole in his cows tails which comprised a principal part of his dress, and also burnt a hole in his shoulder. If the man who had fired the shot had had his gun loaded with a heavy charge of powder the affair might have proved fatal. Everything, however, passed off quietly, and I firmly believe that it was owing to my advising Cetshwayo to send messengers to check Usibepu’s party in their advance that a general massacre was avoided.
Writing thirteen years later Dunn makes light of Cetshwayo keeping Shepstone waiting. Dunn records that Cetshwayo, having been crowned by Masipula, organised a massive hunt in which the whole army participated, the spoils of the chase providing the nation – most of whom, men, women and children, were present – with sustenance for many days to come. Whether Shepstone arrived or not seemed to be of little importance. Not at all flattering to the would-be colonial King Maker. Dunn who kept Cetshwayo company recorded: ‘All this time we were awaiting the arrival of Mr. Shepstone, and after the lapse of three days without any news of him, it was decided to move on to the vicinity of Nodwengo Kraal [a military barracks close to the royal residence at Ondini] . . . At last it was announced that Somseu [Shepstone] had crossed the Tugela . . .’
Dunn’s narrative is entirely at odds with the colonial version of events that makes clear Cetshwayo would have undoubtedly known of Shepstone’s whereabouts and progress from the moment he set out from Durban. One of Shepstone’s week-end soldiers, Trooper Blamey, exaggerating the dangers to give even more spice to a unique adventure, takes up the tale. But, before starting on Blamey’s account, we must attend to Dunn once again as he records the opening scene of the probable murder of none other than Masipula, the Prime Minister, who, but days earlier had crowned Cetshwayo king. Masipula likely suffered a similar fate to that of previous Zulu dignitaries whose deaths, as we have seen, tended to follow fast on the ascension of a new king. In Masipula’s case there was added cause why Cetshwayo’s should seek his death: whilst Prime Minister to Mpande, he had frequently snubbed Cetshwayo in public and, even more to his peril, had made it known that he favoured both Mbulazi and Mthongu in preference to Cetshwayo. However, Masipula’s death would not be a hideous public affair as had been the death of Mpande’s minister that Delegorgue had witnessed thirty-five years earlier. Dunn was most discreet in recording what transpired, leaving the reader to draw his own conclusions:
. . . On breaking up of the meeting Masipula called on me as he was passing to his kraal where he resided. After sitting with me for some time in my tent, he got up to leave, and turning to me, said, ‘Good-bye, child of Mr. Dunn, I have finished my part and am now going to lie down – I am now going to sleep – look after your own affairs – I have no more a voice in matters’ – meaning that he wished to retire from public life, as Umpande [sic], to whom he had been chief Induna, was dead, and; so he now wished to end his days in peace. The poor old fellow little thought, when he thus spoke, that his end was so near – that the words he then said to me were among his last and that the sleep he wished for was to be everlasting, for that same evening, as soon as he got to the Umlambongwenya kraal, where he was staying, on entering his hut, he was suddenly taken ill, and died before morning. There was, of course, much consternation amongst the people, and, as usual, many rumours afloat, one of which was, that having displeased the King, something had been put into his beer.
It seems likely that it had. The girls who had prepared his beer when he had drunk in the presence of his new king, called out ‘Farewell Father’ and had laughed as he bid the assembly ‘Good night’.
Trooper Blamey continues:
. . . Day after day we marched on in the Zulu country to where Cetshwayo was to be crowned. Cetshwayo had his suspicions that we were bringing Umblas [Mbuyazi] to crown him in his stead, almost every day Zulu spies would come to the camp and follow along to see if Umblas were with us. When we got to Umtonganeni [Mtonjaneni], Cetshwayo sent word to say that we were not to cross any further for a few days as his people were mourning the death of their Prime Minister, and also sent word to say he wished to be crowned at the Upata where Dingane slaughtered the Dutch in former years. Mr. Shepstone was very much annoyed at this message, and, knowing what treachery this savage nation was capable of, had his suspicions aroused that a death trap was being planned for our destruction. Well, here we had to stay for about two weeks, messages going backwards and forwards from Cetshwayo and Mr. Shepstone every day, and at night the Zulu spies were continually around our camp. Our kaffir servants got so nervous at what was going on that they used to clear out of our camp after dark and sleep a few miles away in the grass fearing we should be attacked. One evening Mr. Shepstone gave orders to us all to be on the alert and prepare for an attack, each man to have his gun and revolver loaded by his side all night. Not many of us closed our eyes and we were thankful to see the next sunrise, escaped so far from the cold assegai going though our bodies. It was about the next night that I was sent out on horse guard with another trooper, all the horses were feeding loose a few hundred yards away from camp, it was a bright moonlit night and after walking round the horses for some time my chum and I sat down and began talking about our dear home we had left far away behind. At once our conversation was disturbed by a low whistle and a little further away another whistle, at last a third whistle we could hear in the distance. My chum thought it was reed bucks. ‘You stupid!’ I said. ‘They are Zulu spies.’ A few minutes later the different whistles were repeated, my chum was now convinced danger was close to us. I said, ‘Look here, if the camp is attacked, I shall catch two of the fastest horses in the troop and make for Natal for all I am worth, it won’t be any use our going to the camp; they will all be butchered by the time we get there.’ We were both trembling and whispering in low tones to each other for fear of being heard by these savages. He said, ‘I will follow your example if the attack comes.’ Then he whispered, ‘Oh my father said it was not safe for Mr. Shepstone to take only a few men like ourselves into the heart of a savage nation.’ This tickled my feelings and I laid back in fits of laughter. Fortunately no attack came and after a few days of long waiting it was arranged that we should march on towards Cetshwayo’s kraal at Mathlahatini. We went until about two miles off the Uniyambogweni Kraal (where Cetshwayo and his army lived). We camped for about three or four days whilst the coronation was being arranged.
18. Men of Shepstone’s escort, carbineers and gunners, relax in camp close to the Umbambongwenga kraal where the coronation ceremony was performed. (Local History Museum, Durban)
At last, a month after leaving Natal, Shepstone was about to take centre stage. He and his retinue of colonial dignitaries were duly received by Cetshwayo who was escorted by his royal brothers, ministers, regimental commanders and hundreds of warriors. Theindaba that was about to commence, which would be conducted in the Zulu tongue and much illustrated with metaphors, would be an interminable colloquy to those who did not speak the language. Therefore, Shepstone, in order to avoid a fidgeting and distracting colonial audience, wisely dismissed most of his followers. Later he officially described the proceeding in the Government Blue Books:
Cetshwayo received us cordially as before: those who, from not understanding the language or other reason did not wish to stay through the long interview before us, were, by Cetshwayo’s orders, shown whatever there was to be seen of the Royal Family and apartments and returned to camp. Major Durnford and my son, with the Natal native indunas, sat down with me to an interview with Cetshwayo and the counsellors, that lasted for five hours without intermission. It was of the most interesting and earnest kind, and was conducted with great ability and frankness by Cetshwayo . . . Had it not been for the straightforward manner in which Cetshwayo insisted upon their getting direct to the point, it would have been impossible to have got through the serious subjects we were bound to decide in the time we did. For instance, they had been evading an important point, and fencing for some time, when Cetshwayo said, ‘Silence, all of you! Do you hear the wind?’ – ‘Yes’, they replied. ‘What does it say?’ – ‘We cannot discover that it says anything!’ ‘That is exactly what you have been doing. Don’t you see what my father [Shepstone] means? Why do you not say so-and so?’, hitting the point exactly. He treated me with the most marked respect, and always addressed and spoke of me as his father.
The five-hour session was occupied by Shepstone pushing the conditions – that he would later would refer to as ‘laws’ – that Cetshwayo would be obliged to accept if he were to have British backing. Subsequently, five years later when Britain’s representatives were searching to find the excuses to justify the invasion of Zululand, Cetshwayo’s disregard of these ‘laws’ together with a couple of other seized-upon incidents, would be enough to send thousands of red soldiers marching across the Tugela River and into Zululand.
Shepstone goes on to describe the conclusion of the marathon indaba:
It was late before our conference ended, and on taking leave of Cetshwayo I impressed upon him the absolute necessity for his avoiding bloodshed the next day, which was to be devoted to the old but dangerous custom of general recrimination. I cautioned him that it afforded an opportunity for every man who hated his neighbour to injure him, and probably cause the loss of life by reckless and false accusations. He promised that he would do all he could. He said it was difficult to restrain Zulus on such occasions. The next morning I sent a message to him to the same effect. I informed him that my orders from my government were imperative: that I could not consent to become a witness to the shedding of blood, and if I found that my caution was being unheeded, we should at once all leave the country.
If Shepstone was doing his best to prevent bloodshed and avoid any confrontation that could lead to a repetition of Piet Retief’s fate – of which his men were constantly reminding one another – it was his very escort who mischievously egged on the possibility of a set-to. Trooper Blamey takes up the tale:
The afternoon before the coronation Cetshwayo and all his headmen came over to the camp to us. Dabula Manzie [Dabulamanzi kaMpande, a royal half-brother and in the war to come a famous and fiery general], one of the best rifle-shots in the Zulu army, challenged any of us to hit a bottle 100 yards off. We said – pointing to one of our little drummer boys who was one of our best shots – ‘If you can beat this child in shooting, then talk to us men.’ A bottle was placed on an ant heap, Dabula Manzie had first shot and missed, our little boy, out with the rifle, and put the bullet just under the bottle. We said, ‘Don’t talk to us men after this about your shooting’. After staying for about two hours, Cetshwayo and all his followers went back to their kraal. That night we had a grand display of fire works, rockets going sky-high and breaking up into star-shaped things. – This was all done to show the Zulu people what wonders we had with us.
19. Prince Dabulamanzi kaMpande, Zulu General with escort. It was he who led the attack on Rorke’s Drift.
But for all their bluster, the colonial soldiers were apprehensive and full of the jitters. Blamey again:
Next morning we had an early breakfast, all excitement, getting to fall in to march over to the kraal for the coronation. 9 am. the bugle sounded, each one saddled up and fell into line. A long speech was made to us by Major Giles, sitting on his horse in front of us. ‘My men’, he said, ‘load your rifles and revolvers now.’ After this was done, he said, ‘Every man of you must be on the alert whilst we are over at the coronation, and if we are attacked, fire at the Zulus for all you are worth, and die like true Britons, shoulder to shoulder.’ Then the word to march came and we followed in the rear of Mr. Shepstone: we had two cannon with us, belonging to the Durban Artillery, under the command of Mr. Escombe, one of the finest and bravest of men in the whole column. We soon got over to the kraal and found ourselves surrounded by thousands of Zulus. Mr. Shepstone kept close to Cetshwayo’s side all the time we were there (Cetshwayo was sitting in an armchair which Mr. Shepstone had brought with us), and after a long speech to the Zulu nation he put a scarlet velvet cap on Cetshwayo, and said: ‘I now crown you King with this cap and I am sent here to crown you King by our great mother, the Queen of England.’
That is Trooper Blamey’s account of the event – Shepstone’s is rather different:
On Monday, 1st September, preparations were early commenced to carry out the installation. Mr. Consul Cato, assisted by Messrs. C. and G. Shepstone, went over and pitched a large marquee, brought for the occasion, in the centre space of the military kraal. They decorated it inside with the shawls, blankets, and other showy articles which had been brought as presents. In the middle of one side stood a table covered with drapery, with a mirror, in front of which had been placed the headdress; the design was taken from the Zulu war headdress, suggested by Mr. Dunn, after consultation, I believe, with the Zulus, improved upon by the master tailor of the 75th Regiment, and dignified with Zulu trappings of war subdued to a peaceful purpose. There also stood his Chair of State, with the scarlet and gold mantle upon it so that the marquee presented a very tasteful appearance.
Cetshwayo co-operated with enthusiasm and was keen to pursue Shepstone’s idea that at some time during the ceremony, Shepstone would ‘take possession’ of Cetshwayo and in a twinkling transform him from an immature prince to a mighty monarch: ‘I must take him from their sight a minor and present him to them a man; I must take him as a prince and restore him to them a king.’ It would have to be a sort of ‘top of the bill’ conjuring trick performed in front of their very eyes. But, as a precaution, just in case of a mishap, Shepstone deemed it wise not to include the appearance of all the Zulu regiments at the climax of the royal revelation. Shepstone continues:
Major Giles organised the order of procession, in which we entered the lower gate with the band playing. I was accompanied by the officers and gentlemen already named, and others who were desirous of seeing what took place. The brilliant uniforms of the officers formed a contrast with the costume of the clergy and the miscellaneous dresses of some of my companions, and added much to the appearance of the procession. The artillery, the mounted volunteers, and the band of the Maritzburg Rifles formed on the right of the marquee, my natives on the left, Cetshwayo with his counsellors and my party formed a group in front. The Zulu people described three quarters of a circle about fifty yards off, and may be estimated at from 8,000 to 10,000, mostly young men. These latter were forced into their position not by words of command so much as by the free use of sticks by their officers; it seemed to be many blows first and then a word; and some of them appeared to be severely hurt. . . . When the order desired was established, Cetshwayo wished to examine the guns. Captain Escombe explained the loading to him and he was surprised at the facility with which an open cylinder could be closed for firing, but seemed disappointed that the guns were not larger. On returning to our seats I stood and explained in the native language the nature and importance of the ceremony I had come to perform, the condescension and good will of the Government of Natal, shown by allowing me to come, and by sending such a complimentary escort to accompany me; and after adding such introductory remarks as appeared necessary, I proceeded to the business in hand. I thought it would be best that all the points I wished to establish and impress should be presented in the shape of questions and that I should require audible assent to each to be given by all the brothers of Cetshwayo, and the rulers and counsellors of the country who formed my audience, for the common people were too far off to hear me speak.
Shepstone had decided that he would read from a paper that he had prepared, all the points to which he would require the ‘audible and hearty assent’ of his audience. That having been done, the paper from which he had read would be kept as written evidence of the ‘laws’ to which Cetshwayo and the Zulu people had agreed. Shepstone, in theatrical mode and dressed to suit the occasion in a gold-braided uniform with cocked hat, then delivered his proclamation:
Have not I entered Zululand at the request of the Zulu Nation to install their king? Have not I been requested to come because I was chief witness to his nomination by his father at Nodwengu?
Is not Cetshwayo the son that was then nominated, and is not he who the Zulus now wish me to install?
So say you all?
Shepstone received the hearty response that he had hoped for and in a most profound and imperial manner continued to describe the rest of the conditions with which he and his government expected the Zulu nation to comply: that the life of any man or woman, high or low, be vested in the king on behalf of the nation; that for any man to take the life of another, without the king’s consent, would be as to take that which belonged to the nation; that any man be allowed to answer before the king any charge that may be brought against him and that he be not condemned before having the opportunity to do so; that the Zulu people agree that the punishment of death for every crime destroys a nation. Having got a rousing response, Shepstone demanded of the gathering whether or not he stood in the place of the king’s father and, having got his answer he required, Shepstone proclaimed that the indiscriminate shedding of blood must cease; that no Zulu be condemned without trial; that no Zulu life be taken until a trial had been conducted and right of appeal exercised; and lastly that the death penalty for minor crimes be substituted for the compensation of property.
Heralds then proclaimed the ‘laws’ to the assembled throng while Shepstone led Cetshwayo into the marquee where the transformation was to take place, the doorway being guarded by two armed gunners of the Durban Volunteer Artillery. Shepstone immediately set about fulfilling the masquerade:
Cetshwayo was robed in the scarlet mantle, the headdress/crown was placed upon his head and, the transformation to King complete, Shepstone took him forth to be presented to his people.
Shepstone continued: ‘In the meanwhile, a carpet, presented to him by Captain Macleod and Mr. Fairlie, had been spread, the chair of State we had brought him placed upon it facing the people, and another of less pretentious character, but so disguised as to look suited to the occasion, was put alongside for me.’ Some of warriors in the front row, entering into the spirit of the charade, pretended amazement at the sight of their new king, uttering exclamations of wonder, pretending to doubt his identity. Shepstone recalled with satisfaction: ‘Thus he, who a few moments before had been but a minor and a prince, had now become a man and king.’ A signal was given and the Durban Volunteer Artillery fired a seventeen-gun salute with great precision; the colonial soldiers presented arms and the band of the Maritzburg Rifles struck up a rousing tune. But there was still drama to come.
The vast throng of warriors, not to be outdone by the colonials, now presented their own traditional salute: raising their shields high, they struck at them with sticks and clubs, as though they were beating a thousand drums, setting forth a shattering explosion of noise.
20. Ten thousand warriors were present at Cetshwayo’s coronation but only sticks were permitted to be carried, assegais being strictly forbidden.
(KZN Archives, Pietermaritzburg)
It caught the troopers by surprise. Having earlier dismounted, they had left their horses unattended except for one man who was quite unable to control the stampede that followed the bedlam of the beaten shields. In their terror the flying horses, falling over one another in their haste, galloped off in all directions, some heading directly at the royal party. As Shepstone later remarked: ‘This belonged to a class of accident that sometimes produces disasters, and for the moment one seemed likely to happen.’ However, the horses were soon brought under control and the new king, quick to appreciate the reasons for the stampede, remarked: ‘They had left their horses and they stampeded at the noise of the shields.’ Shepstone later wrote: ‘The quickness with which the accident was remedied soon changed the aspects of affairs, and turned adverse criticism into admiration at the smartness with which the mischief had been stopped.’ (Well done, Trooper Blamey.)
The ceremony now complete, the colonials prepared to move off but not before a photograph of the assembly was taken. Yet, the fear of causing an upset still ran high and when the famous artist and explorer, Thomas Baines, was requested by the photographer, J. W. Buchanan of Durban, to duck his head under the black cloth to check the camera angle, Baines refused fearing that such action might be taken as a form of wizardry aimed against the king. However, with or without Baines’ assistance, a picture was taken but, unfortunately during the moments of exposure, the king moved his head creating the illusion that he possessed two faces; a sort-of unintentional affirmation of his metamorphosis from prince to monarch.
The following day, Shepstone and his column, taking with them a present of elephant ivory and the good wishes of the king, headed back towards the Tugela, most of the contingent confident that peace and goodwill had been established between the kingdom and colony. Yet, within little more than five years, many who had attended the coronation, both Zulu and colonial, would perish on the bloody battlefields of the Anglo-Zulu War, a war that would destroy forever the old order of the Zulu kingdom.
However, allow Trooper Blamey, as rascally as ever, to have the last word on the coronation as he describes how he and his comrades, unabashedly, pillaged both black and white during their journey home:
The first night we slept at a Norwegian mission station, these white Norwegian women couldn’t talk English, so I had to interpret for Mr. Escombe in Zulu to them and put in a few words on my own account. I told them we were very hungry and that this great man, (Mr. Escombe), was one of our Queen’s representatives, and that it would go well with them if not only ourselves, but our horses, were fed. This put the fear of death into them, and they hustled about and gave us all they had. Next morning we saddled up, and after thanking them for their hospitality, we rode on . . . Towards midday both ourselves and our horses felt very hungry, and in the distance in front we spied a large Zulu kraal. Mr. Escombe asked if it would be possible to buy some food for ourselves and horses. My reply was, ‘No money will buy us food, but if you will only do what I may suggest, we may get well fed. Do this when we get near the kraal. I will be your herald and ride on to the kraal, shouting your praises, each man to fall in single file behind you.’ This plan being arranged, I rode off to the kraal, full gallop, shouting like a lunatic. Out all the women and men came, looking terrified, asking me who are these people that are coming? I replied, ‘Its our great chief, make ready at once for him and his followers, his animals are hungry also.’ Not another word. Off into their huts they went, kaffir beer and baskets of mealies were soon brought out. Presently our great man arrived, looking very dignified, all of his followers paying great respect. I crouched down at his approach, and took his horse and presented him with all this food; after we and our animals had had a good fill, we saddled up and off we went after thanking them for their food.
But retribution was on its way for Blamey. That evening the weather changed and, without any shelter, Blamey and his companions spent a wretched night huddled in the pouring rain.