Zulu E-Book

W B Bartlett

• Herausgeber: The History Press
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2010

Beschreibung

The Zulu War grabs attention in a way that no other of Queen Victoria's "Little Wars" does. It is a story rich in the extremes of human experience: gallantry, cowardice, savagery, hubris, and sheer, stark terror amongst others. The way the campaign unfolded was a consequence of the actions of Britain's commander in the field, Lord Chelmsford, who thought that the outcome would be a foregone conclusion, but then found himself faced with one of the most shocking disasters in British military history. This book looks at events through Chelmsford's eyes, examining contemporary correspondence to tell the tale. Forced to cope with the catastrophe of Isandlwana, only slightly offset by the heroic defense of Rorke's Drift, he then had to win the war as quickly as possible, before the man who had been chosen to replace him arrived in South Africa. Full of drama, this is the story of Lord Chelmsford's war, one of the most turbulent campaigns ever fought in Africa.

Leseprobe

To Pete – a true friend

CONTENTS

Title Page

Dedication

Introduction

Maps

one A Clash of Empires

two The Scene is Set

three A Moral Victory?

four The Day of the Dead Moon 75

five Nowhere to Go 107

six Under Siege 129

seven Back to the Drawing Board 150

eight The Turn of the Tide 166

nine Chelmsford to the Rescue 191

ten The Setting Sun of the Bonapartes 213

eleven Race for Victory

Bibliography

Copyright

INTRODUCTION

The Anglo-Zulu War has not always gripped the imagination in the way that it does now. However, recent decades have seen a veritable surge in interest. It is tempting to speculate that the increased profile of the conflict arose from the same two factors that first stimulated my own interest. Hollywood played its part; the film Zulu (1964) gripped the imagination when it was first released and continues to do so. Despite its glaring historical inaccuracies (the drunken Hitch, the pompous upper-class Bromhead and the singing of Men of Harlech by the gallant defenders for example), it works magnificently as what it is supposed to be: an epic movie, not a historically accurate documentary.

There was for me though another seminal event at around the same time: the publication of the equally grand The Washing of the Spears, written by Donald Morris and first published in 1965. This remains a vividly written work of history and, although contemporary commentators may question some of its factual content, there can be no disputing the richness of the narrative which does full justice to the depth of the drama it is based on.

Recently there has been a remarkable increase in activity and this has taken research to an altogether higher level. There have been some prolific researchers who have undertaken a great deal of work, adding to knowledge of the Anglo-Zulu War immensely. It is always dangerous to mention individuals by name but the debt that students of the Anglo-Zulu War owe to people such as Ian Knight, Ian Castle, Dr Adrian Greaves, Professor John Laband and many others is immense and I acknowledge from the outset that without them this book could not have been written. Importantly, they have introduced a sense of balance, which has in some ways led to the antithesis of the heroic image portrayed in the Hollywood take on the Zulu story.

War is always an emotive subject. Although many aspects of it are distressing, many of us are also fascinated by it because it often provides, in addition to vivid drama, examples of courage under fire, perseverance against insuperable odds and tactical skill. In this book I have tried to recognise these qualities where they exist but also acknowledge that for each virtue there is an opposite vice. That is an immutable result of our human failings. I do not, at this remove, intend to judge harshly the actions of men from either side in battle, who must often have been terrified out of their wits. I have never been directly involved in a war and can barely imagine how awful one must be for a protagonist.

However, that exemption of judgement does not extend to the political arena. There were a number of mistakes that were made which led to the war being fought in the first place. Most (though not all) came from the British side. Of course, the paradigms of the ruling classes in South Africa (then a region rather than a country) were often very different than our own. But it is important to point out that there were a number of people at the time, even on the British side, who felt that the war was misguided and morally unjustifiable. I do not intend to let politicians off the hook as easily as I will soldiers in battle.

Neither would it be right to let military strategists, as opposed to the common soldier, escape judgement; it was their decisions that shaped the course of the war. More accurately ‘wars’, perhaps, for there were two invasions, the first of which was dramatically repulsed by an unexpected Zulu triumph. Strategic failings on either side were both apparent and decisive in determining the course of events.

I am particularly interested in the role of Lord Chelmsford. Of course, a commander in the field is usually the dominant figure, certainly in terms of shaping the strategy, but the Anglo-Zulu War was a conflict that exposed Chelmsford to the whole gamut of emotions in a way that is rarely the case. This in part was because Chelmsford’s great reserves of energy meant that he was often right in the thick of the action. The war took over Chelmsford’s life, so much so that he wanted to be involved in even the most mundane of details. And, in turn, the war would be the decisive factor in establishing his own reputation.

He also played an important part in the events that led up to the war in the first place. He therefore deserves examination at both the political and the military level. He is a complex character; a bumbling oaf would seem to be the prevailing assessment in some quarters. However, an assessment of his performance in the war is not that simple and, although I will certainly not be painting him as a military genius, it is important that we recognise the lessons he learned along the way as well as how his strategy was shaped by events.

It is vital to ask ourselves why the Anglo-Zulu War has such a hold on modern imaginations as opposed to other Victorian-era conflicts. There are some obvious reasons concerning its dramatic nature – the defence of Rorke’s Drift, the bloodbath of Isandlwana and the death of the Prince Imperial, for example. But there were other striking events from other wars of the time that have been, in comparison, long forgotten.

I think it is because the war asks some very clear questions, in particular about post-colonial views of the colonial era. The two sides cannot have been more different; although it was not completely a case of guns against spears, there was certainly a massive difference in the armament of the two sides. This suggested to those in command that the result of the war should be a foregone conclusion.

Perhaps there is a guilt element involved; it is hard to escape the conclusion that the war was impossible to justify in moral terms. There were unmistakable racial undertones too and, in the race-conscious era in which we live, this touches a nerve. And it was indeed a slaughter in the end, with thousands of Zulu lives lost through battlefield wounds, disease and hunger brought about by draconian scorched-earth policies.

Whatever the reason, that the fascination in the Anglo-Zulu War is as strong as ever is self-evident. For example, a vibrant Anglo-Zulu War Historical Society continues to thrive; I also acknowledge my debt to the research undertaken by its members as well as other associations with a keen interest in the conflict. They have helped to provide a much better understanding of the course of events.

The story which follows attempts to explore what it was like for all those caught up in it, drawing on contemporary research as well as the large number of eye-witness accounts that have survived. It is important to return to the basic story minus its trappings from time to time and, therefore, I have attempted to look in particular at the accounts of those who were there at the time in the narrative.

There is no doubting the richness of the drama that is provided by the war but there is also no mistaking its tragic nature either. It was a conflict that brought to an abrupt end the rise of a great nation that came out of nowhere. But it was also in its own way a clash that pointed towards the demise of another great empire that would, within much less than a century, find its own place in the world radically changed. It was a situation that Victoria, empress and ruler of a third of the globe, could never have envisaged. She too played her part in events and, in one of the strangest interviews that can be imagined, met the defeated Zulu king Cetshwayo in England after the war. Perhaps even at the time she realised that this might become the most famous of her so-called ‘Little Wars’.

MAPS

Outline plan of Isandlwana

Outline plan of Rorke’s Drift

The first invasion

Zululand and Natal during the Anglo-Zulu War

Battlefields of the Anglo-Zulu War

one

A CLASH OF EMPIRES

The Rise of the Zulus

For millennia, Africa – with the exception of the regions in the north – was an almost completely unknown entity to Europeans. Then in the fifteenth century a great age of exploration began most famously when Columbus journeyed west in search of a route to the riches of the Orient. It was a brave move, a leap into the dark, but there were others equally bold who looked for a route the other way round, travelling to the east. They too had little idea where they were going or what they would find when they got there. The only route possible, they soon found, was to travel far to the south for thousands of miles before then heading east into an ocean that was entirely new to them.

One of these valiant explorers was a Portuguese mariner by the name of Vasco da Gama. He made his way down the coast of Africa and then, in simplistic landlubber terms, turned left. He turned the corner and started to make his way north, up the eastern coast of the continent. It was on Christmas Day 1497 that he spied a previously unknown land. It did not offer an easy harbour anywhere so he was unable to land. However, in honour of the festival of the nativity he called it Natalia. Thus was Natal introduced to Europe.

At the same time, unknown to Vasco da Gama or anyone else in Europe, a group of black tribes were journeying south down the eastern side of Africa. They were Bantu people, hunter-gatherers, and in their own way they themselves were empire-builders as much as the Portuguese, Spanish, Dutch or British were. Their tactics were somewhat different from the Europeans, progressing by land rather than sea. So too was the stage of technological development that they had reached. But they also wanted land, though more for survival than mere exploitation.

The Bantu people eventually stopped in the south-eastern corner of Africa, almost as far as they could go. The Europeans, in the meantime, had shown little interest in the country there. It was harsh terrain with little attraction for mercenary-minded adventurers other than as a staging-post on the long voyage east to much richer climes. It was not until well into the seventeenth century that a European settlement was established anywhere in the region and then it was at Cape Town, in the far south-west corner of Africa. Its sole use was as a place for ships to stop on the journeys to and from India and the Far East. It was a remote settlement, of interest only to extreme adventurers or ne’er-do-wells; every bit a place on the frontiers of civilisation and, indeed, at the very edge of the world.

The hinterland beyond this tiny corner these Europeans largely left untouched. It was a place where savage tribes lived: dangerous, barbaric and uncivilised, as they saw it. Therefore the two groups, a tiny number of whites on the coast and a mass of black tribes everywhere else, largely lived in ignorance of each other. Just occasionally a ship would be wrecked on the treacherous coastline of Natal and a small group of survivors would be swallowed up by the tribes living in the area. Apart from this, there was no contact at all.

The Europeans were therefore initially largely unaware of the rise of a major new power in the region which took place at the end of the eighteenth century. The Zulus were a minor clan of no major importance until the emergence of an extraordinary leader by the name of Shaka. Like many other great warriors – Alexander or Genghis Khan, for example – his upbringing had been difficult. His mother Nandi was a proud and spirited woman, the daughter of a chief, and his father Senzangakhona was a prominent if feckless Zulu who was destined to be chief of the tribe. Unfortunately, his father and mother were not married to each other and his conception was an accident.

It was a great humiliation in Bantu society to be born out of wedlock and Nandi and her son were subject to scorn and abuse during Shaka’s formative years. Senzangakhona grudgingly married Nandi but threw her out a few years later. Shaka and his mother therefore suffered the bitter taste of rejection and his subsequent adolescence was extremely unpleasant. The boys whom he grew up with teased him mercilessly, in particular remarking on his underdeveloped genitalia. As such, he reached maturity with a burning desire to succeed and a passionate hatred of those who had made his early years such a misery. They were to suffer for it.

Nandi and Shaka later found sanctuary with another tribe, the Mthethwa, after being effectively thrown out by their own people. The Mthethwa were at least a rising power and their chief, Dingiswayo, was an astute leader. However, no special status was afforded Shaka or his mother despite their prominent background and the young man’s sense of resentment continued to grow.

Dingiswayo in many ways looked after them well and Shaka grew in stature, both in a physical and a metaphorical sense. He became an outstanding military tactician and introduced a number of innovations including the development of a regimental system which would later form the basis of the Zulu military organisation. When he eventually had enough men under his command, the regiments – known as amabutho – were formed of men of similar ages who therefore bonded strongly together. His tactics were also a revelation in Bantu warfare, previously a formalised affair with normally limited casualties. Shaka introduced a different concept into warcraft, that of attempting to obliterate your enemy.

Shaka became a prominent warrior in one of the Mthethwa regiments, the iziCwe. He developed a reputation for both his strength and ingenuity, and, although the stories told of him may have lost nothing in the telling, there seems to have been more than a grain of truth in them. Eventually, a reconciliation of sorts with Senzangakhona, his natural father, was achieved and Shaka was recognised as the heir to the Zulu chiefdom. When his father died, Shaka’s half-brother, Sigujana, attempted to grab the throne for himself. He died a painful death as a result (though Shaka himself avoided killing him in person as this would result in a severe stigma in Bantu society). Shaka had introduced himself to the wider world.

When Shaka took over as leader of the Zulus, his inheritance was a mediocre one. There were just a few thousand members of his tribe and they had no great heritage to look back on. His first task was to take over the military organisation of his warriors, allocating them into regiments. Crucially, he also decided that the assegai should no longer be a throwing weapon, but used for stabbing at close range instead. He also ordered his soldiers to remove their sandals to help them move more quickly – not an easy option in the broken terrain that characterised Zululand. To help them to adapt to this change, he ordered his warriors to dance barefoot on a carpet of thorns. Drums beat out a rhythmic pulse; any man who was not dancing in time to the music was executed.

Shaka also changed the tribe’s battle tactics, building on what he had already learned when fighting for Dingiswayo. His warriors were given specific roles in the battle formation, which was organised in four sections: the chest, the loins and two horns. The chest led the attack, launching itself in a headlong assault, whilst the horns deployed either side in an encircling movement. They would then surround the enemy whilst the loins hung back in reserve (the men here were supposed to look away from the fighting in case they became overexcited and rushed to join in). When an attack was launched there would be no mercy shown. It was a very different approach to what had previously been seen in local warfare and it was often devastating.

Shaka and his men started to conquer all before them. In a further move to maintain discipline, Shaka decreed that his warriors would no longer be able to marry without his permission. They would in effect be married to his army and would only be allowed to take a wife when he gave permission for a whole regiment to do so. This was a privilege he did not grant lightly.

Women were similarly organised in amabutho though not for the purposes of fighting, but rather to organise them for mass marriages when the king did give a group of his warriors’ permission to marry. They had a crucial role in Zulu society, as they were required to tend the crops (looking after the herds and hunting being a man’s job). When they were married, the family of these women would each receive a dowry (ilobolo), inevitably in the form of cattle.

But these changes were not possible without the strong arm of the king. Shaka was cruel and ruthless, as a result of which he made many enemies. Amongst them was his half-brother, Dingane. Blood-relationships were no bar to a violent death; in fact, if a man felt threatened because of them then a gruesome end was more likely. Living in fear as a result of Shaka’s violent temper, and feeling that it was only a matter of time before they too died a horrible death, some of those threatened decided to take matters into their own hands.

On 23 September 1828 Shaka was holding court, dressed for a delegation of emissaries that, annoyingly, was late. When they arrived, the angered chief laid into them, berating them for their poor punctuality. Then, out of nowhere, the mood changed. The hour was late and it was dark. The army was away and there were therefore few guards around the king. From the shadows assassins emerged, armed with assegais, the short, stabbing-spear that Shaka had introduced. They thrust at him repeatedly and Shaka fell, dying, to the ground. As his life ebbed away, he could see Dingane standing over him. Realising that there were just seconds remaining before the spark of life was extinguished, Shaka made a poignant peroration: ‘The whole land will be white with the stars, and it will be overrun with swallows.’1

Perhaps there were those who thought even at the time that this ominous, if cryptic, prediction referred to a development that had occurred in the last years of Shaka’s reign. In 1824, a small group of white men, British adventurers, had put ashore at a place that became known as Port Natal with the intention to stay there, unlike previous visitors to the region. Nevertheless, they were respectfulness personified in their actions and approached Shaka reverentially to ask for his permission to do so. They were granted it and the first hesitant steps in the colonisation of Natal began; the swallows had taken nest in Shaka’s kingdom.

Shaka generally treated the tiny group of white men well. Dingane, however, proved less accommodating. He did not trust them but he did not seem to trust many of his own people either. The opening days of the new reign were characterised by a bloodbath as a number of prominent potential opponents were ruthlessly removed – his own brothers included. Only one individual of note survived, another son of Senzangakhona called Mpande, a simple-minded man who seemed to provide no threat and was allowed to live. It was a significant blunder on Dingane’s part.

But then a major threat started to emerge from further afield. The whites, Dingane came to realise, were not one homogeneous grouping. The Boers, Dutch settlers in southern Africa, were a different breed than the British and, when the latter abandoned slavery and attempted to impose other changes on the Boer way of life, the former started to look for somewhere else to live.

The hinterland of the continent was still barely known by the Europeans and large numbers of Boer settlers set out in their wagons, leaving the Cape colony and British rule to try and find somewhere else to live. In what became known as the Great Trek, hundreds of families set out looking for a Promised Land. There was no initial unanimity about their ultimate destination, but a number of them had heard that Natal was a fecund and promising land, and it was towards here that some of the great wagon trains began to head.

Leading them was a man of rare talent, a Boer by the name of Piet Retief. Arriving in Natal, these trekkers first of all approached Port Natal, now renamed after its first governor Benjamin D’Urban. The people of Durban were still in an isolated outpost and further settlement in Natal had not taken root; representatives of the British government had shown no interest whatsoever in formally establishing a colony there. The Boers were a welcome addition to the settlers and were therefore greeted warmly.

However, they stayed there at Dingane’s sufferance and it was from him that Retief and his followers really needed to obtain permission to remain. The Zulu king was terrified at the prospect, perceiving the Boers, who were good horsemen and excellent marksmen, as a great threat. They had not long before won a stunning victory against the Matabele tribes further west at a place called Vegkop. Hugely outnumbered, they had nevertheless massacred their enemy thanks to their firepower. Dingane would have heard of this one-sided triumph and was very nervous as a result.

Dingane wanted access to a supply of guns for his own people but the Boers, unsurprisingly, were unwilling to co-operate. They continued to negotiate with the king for lands to settle but they sustained their advance too despite the lack of any formal approval from Dingane. In an attempt to impress the chief, Retief decided to journey to his capital with a large delegation. It was a blatant attempt to intimidate but it was also a fatal miscalculation.

At the beginning of February 1838, the Boer delegation arrived at the king’s dwelling. There were seventy-one of them. They were arrogant towards the Zulus, which only served to further anger the king and make him more unpredictable. On the morning of 6 February, the delegation made ready to leave. Entering the central enclosure of Dingane’s capital they were first of all deprived of their firearms – a normal precautionary measure. Their suspicions not aroused, they sat themselves down before Dingane.

A dance started with hundreds of warriors moving around the delegation. They moved forward in an aggressive fashion but it was all part of the act, or so it was thought. But then Dingane suddenly rose to his feet and shouted a terrifying injunction: ‘kill the wizards!’ There was a fierce struggle but it was a one-sided fight. The unarmed Boers were overwhelmed, then one by one they were executed. In a cruel refinement, Retief was one of the last to die, having been forced to witness the slaughter of his own son.

This was only the beginning of the killing. Hundreds of Boer wagons were spread out across the veldt in isolated pockets. Dingane now sent his armies out to obliterate them. They were far away and received no word of the fate that had befallen Retief. They were therefore unprepared when, on the night of 17 February, the impis fell on them. The killing lasted for days. As the settlers became aware that they were under attack, some managed to organise themselves and fight off the enemy. However, when the spears of the Zulus had finally been washed, over 500 of the trekkers were dead, including a disproportionate number of women and children.

These events seared themselves into the souls of the Boers. A village that grew up on the site of one of the massacres later was simply called Weenen – ‘weeping’. However, the Boers were not the only ones to suffer. The British settlers at Durban unwisely allied themselves with the Boers and their small expeditionary force was annihilated. Then the Zulus marched on Durban and sacked it for a week. Fortunately there was a ship in harbour at the time that managed to evacuate some of the citizens, for to stay ashore was a death sentence.

Dingane’s crushing of the threat invited terrible retribution that would not be long in coming. The British were first to react: in December 1838 a party of Highland infantry landed at Durban to enforce the peace. The British then sought to stop the Boers from attacking the Zulus, not wanting further disturbance in what had now formally become a colony. They were too late.

On 15 December 1838, the Boer commando that had set out from the hinterland with the aim of avenging Piet Retief set up camp by the River Ncome. Under their leader Andries Pretorius, they had formed their sixty-four wagons into a fortified camp, a laager. It was a formidable position: the river was very deep on one side, precluding any approach from that direction. There was a deep ditch in front of the camp, ruling out an assault from there too, meaning that any attack would be funnelled into a very narrow channel.

At dawn on 16 December, a Zulu attack was launched in overwhelming force. However, their vastly superior numbers counted for nothing. The concentrated gunfire of the Boers, supported by several cannon, brought the warriors down in their droves. Then, with the impi on the point of exhaustion, Pretorius unleashed his cavalry. The victory turned into a massacre. The Boer triumph at what became known as Blood River assumed iconic status, which it retained into the modern era.

In the aftermath of the war, various important changes occurred. The Zulus were in future to inhabit only the lands to the north of the Thukela River, with the area to the south to be the British colony of Natal. The Boers created their own state further inland with a capital established at Pietermaritzburg. The Zulus, in the meantime, turned on each other. A number decamped south and moved into Natal. Those that remained moved to fight each other, with two factions emerging: one supporting Dingane, the other the supposed simpleton, Mpande.

The Boers sensed an opportunity and moved to support Mpande, whom they thought they could easily manipulate. A climactic battle was fought soon after, which Dingane lost. He was forced to flee to the Swazis in the north. The Boers took as their prize 1,000 Zulu children who effectively became slaves. They also took another chunk of Zululand for settlement. The price of Mpande’s victory was high but the cost of Dingane’s defeat even higher, for he was soon murdered.

The reign of Mpande was defined for many years by peace and stability. But then, in 1856, a bitter succession dispute began – a fork in the road that led at last to the Anglo-Zulu War. Shaka and Dingane had both failed to leave a natural heir but Mpande, who enjoyed the comforts of his harem,2 if anything succeeded too well in this respect. His firstborn was a son named Cetshwayo and he was named heir. However, Mpande took a number of other wives and regretted his decision to nominate Cetshwayo when another favourite son appeared.

The rival’s name was Mbulazi and, when armed conflict with his brother became unavoidable, he sought the help of the whites from over the Thukela in Natal. Only a small group came to his aid, led by John Dunn. Dunn was a fascinating character, who could hold his own in conversation with an English lord and was a connoisseur of good wines, yet would eventually become so comfortable with Zulu life that he would happily take a number of wives in keeping with their polygamous lifestyle. But on this occasion, it would turn out he had backed the wrong horse.

Cetshwayo moved his army towards that of Mbulazi, having a huge numerical advantage. The two forces met by the mouth of the Thukela River, near the spot where it flowed into the vastness of the Indian Ocean, which was much swollen by heavy rains. The battle resulted in a decisive victory for Cetshwayo in which Mbulazi was killed along with thousands of his followers, including large numbers of women and children; there was no such thing as a ‘non-combatant’ in this battle. Dunn managed to escape by means of a small boat that a friend had brought across the river to help him. The Battle of Ndondakusuka, as it was known, was the bloodiest ever fought in Zulu history.

Cetshwayo built a settlement to commemorate his triumph at a place called Gingindhlovu. Relations with Mpande were still strained. Another son, Mkhungo, fled to Natal where he found sanctuary with an ambitious colonial official, Theophilus Shepstone. Shepstone was considered by a few (especially himself) to be a man of great talent. He saw in Mkhungo an opportunity to intervene in Zulu affairs to his own advantage.

The presence of Mkhungo in Natal led to the only real scare in the colony between Dingane’s massacre of the Boers in 1838 and the outbreak of the Anglo-Zulu War in 1879. In 1861, rumours were rife that Cetshwayo was about to attack and at one stage the alarm seemed so real that a bona fide panic broke out and it was believed that a Zulu army was actually in the country. It turned out that this was completely untrue and nothing came of it.

Mpande initially refused to recognise the result of Ndondakusuka, decisive and irreversible though it was. However, his people were not with him. They saw in Cetshwayo a certain strength that they admired and a hint at least of the greatness that Shaka had once enjoyed. Eventually Mpande had no choice but to accept the verdict of the battlefield and reluctantly he recognised his firstborn once more as his heir.

Cetshwayo then let nature take its course. Mpande lived for sixteen years after Ndondakusuka before dying, a corpulent caricature who had to be wheeled around in a cart because he was too obese to walk. Cetshwayo then took his place on the throne. Mpande owed his station to the help of the Boers; Cetshwayo now sought the approval of the British to reinforce his authority, who were happy to oblige.

Theophilus Shepstone, now Secretary of Colonial Affairs and one of the most powerful British officials in southern Africa, offered to crown Cetshwayo but only if he agreed to rule in line with British expectations. At the subsequent coronation tension was high, with some of Cetshwayo’s entourage extremely suspicious of Shepstone’s intentions; it was even rumoured that Mbulazi was not dead at all and was in fact with Shepstone to be crowned instead of Cetshwayo. This of course was wrong. The ‘coronation’ would go ahead but Shepstone would nevertheless take full advantage of it for his own purposes.

On 1 September 1873 Shepstone placed the crown on Cetshwayo’s head. It was not much of an ornament, a cheap, tacky object made of tinsel, much as one would expect to see in a pantomime. It was an appropriate indication of the level of respect that Shepstone had for the Zulu crown. Even the king was well aware of just how tawdry a spectacle Shepstone was creating with his cheap props; many spectators, it was suggested, believed that the ceremony was both ‘trifling and ridiculous’.3

In return for the bauble he handed over, Shepstone demanded a high price. He presented a series of demands to Cetshwayo, laying out his expectations for how he should reign. These mainly concerned the sanctity of life within Zululand. Previous Zulu kings had had absolute power of life and death over their subjects. It was something that sat uncomfortably with British sensibilities and Shepstone attempted to put a stop to the arbitrary execution of subjects.

The list of rules that Cetshwayo allegedly agreed to comply with included the injunction ‘that the indiscriminate shedding of blood shall cease in the land’. Further stipulations were that no Zulu should be condemned without having an open trial and that they should have a right of appeal to the king. Minor offences, which had previously been capital crimes, would be given lesser penalties in the future. There would also be less use of witch doctors, something that was very much a feature of everyday life. Shepstone thought that this condition in particular would be hard to comply with in the near future.4

And in this respect at least he was right, for Zululand was at a different stage of its evolution than the British Empire was. Some apologists for the Zulus such as Francis Colenso, daughter of the Bishop of Natal, pointed out that it was only a few centuries since supposed ‘witches’ were being burned at the stake in their thousands in Europe, and to expect the Zulus to change their ways overnight was totally unrealistic.5

Nevertheless, Shepstone was delighted with the profile he had gained from being the kingmaker in Zululand. Once the private ceremony in which Cetshwayo had become king was over, he was led out to meet his people. And so, Shepstone said, ‘he, who a few moments before had been but a minor and a Prince, had now become a man and a King’.6 The inference, of course, was that it was Shepstone who was responsible for both levels of transformation. It was a position he seemed to enjoy greatly.

Shepstone returned to his politicking in the British colonies in southern Africa; Cetshwayo got on with the business of governing his people. It was a difficult challenge for him. The Zulus were living on past glories; they were a warrior people who had fought no major war against anyone but themselves for decades. They basked in the great days of Shaka but those days were long in the past. The new king had high expectations to live up to.

Hopes were high amongst his people. Cetshwayo was a striking figure of a man, about 6ft in height with a strong presence. He possessed an air of regality, not something that all previous Zulu kings could claim. But his coronation had also created expectations amongst the British which would be hard to live up to. Certainly, supporters of the British cause were quick to claim that the British had placed Cetshwayo on his throne and that he was obliged to comply with Shepstone’s caveats as if they were terms and conditions that must be complied with if he wished to carry on ruling.7

Some of the British saw the coronation ceremony in a very different light than Cetshwayo and believed that he would do exactly as he was told. This was a gross mistake. Any king of Zululand who wished to keep his position could not afford to be perceived as a mere puppet. Rather than lessening the chances of misunderstandings, the terms of the coronation ceremony instead strengthened the possibility of one occurring. It was a ceremony that, in the few contemplative moments Cetshwayo had to himself six years later, he surely came to regret.

But when Cetshwayo’s reign began there was no imminent sense of crisis. There had been no conflict between the British and the Zulus for forty years. The Zulu king saw the British as a powerbroker against the Boers who were threatening chunks of Zulu territory in the Transvaal, which was still an independent Boer state. However, the political landscape was about to change dramatically, with ultimately catastrophic results for the Zulu nation. In the form of a seemingly harmless coronation ceremony, the first unwitting steps to war had already been taken.

Notes

1 Taylor, p. 102.

2 Hallam Parr, p. 108, described him as a man ‘preferring a quiet life, with the society of his wives and good living’.

3 Colenso and Durnford, p. 17.

4 Shepstone’s comments were widely reproduced at the time. The source used here is The Cape Monthly Magazine of May 1875.

5 Colenso and Durnford, p. 21.

6The Cape Monthly Magazine, May 1875.

7 See, for example, Hallam Parr, p. 148.

two

THE SCENE IS SET

The Road to War

There were several key protagonists on the British side who played a part in the build-up to war. Shepstone, for one, performed a key role alongside Sir Bartle Frere, the High Commissioner for Southern Africa and Sir Henry Bulwer, Lieutenant-Governor of Natal, for example. But the man who, more than any other, would become forever associated with the Anglo-Zulu War was Frederic Thesiger, soon to become the second Baron Chelmsford.

Thesiger was born on 31 May 1827. He came from a noble family, his father being the first Baron Chelmsford. Yet the dynasty had only recently come into prominence. John Thesiger, born in 1722, emigrated to Britain from Dresden – one of the many who made the migration following the accession of the Hanoverians to the throne. John Thesiger became secretary to a prominent statesman, the second Marquess of Rockingham. Later, Frederic’s father, also Frederic, entered the House of Commons as a Tory Member of Parliament, and in 1844 became solicitor-general. The family fortune was assured – a situation confirmed when, in 1858, Frederic senior became Lord High Chancellor of England.

Frederic Thesiger was therefore born into money, as his attendance at Eton as a scholar shows. But to an extent this impression was misleading, for he was not from the ranks of the super-rich and adequate financing would always be a problem for him. In 1844, Thesiger purchased a commission as second-lieutenant in the Rifle Brigade, the buying of a commission then being the conventional way to become an officer – military ability had next to nothing to do with such a move. The year after, he moved on to the Grenadier Guards in which he was eventually promoted to captain in 1850.

After a spell in Ireland, Thesiger joined his battalion on active service in the Crimea in 1855. The war there was something of an aberration. It is an irony that during Queen Victoria’s reign the British army was in action virtually every year, yet between the history-making battle at Waterloo in 1815 and the outbreak of the First World War in 1914, the Crimean War was the only major war that was fought by Britain against a European enemy. That led to a certain mentality with regards to military matters. The British army still marched and fought with its blood-scarlet uniforms and its tactics were honed against barely organised enemies whose arms were, in most cases, very basic. The military establishment was conservative, slow to change and in many ways stuck in the past.

Britain had a huge and still-developing empire. Her interests were in the main outside of Europe. In Europe itself she sought merely to hold the balance of power so that the continent stayed in some kind of equilibrium. Military entanglements with other European powers were certainly frowned upon as a matter of policy; such a state of affairs would have been a tacit admission that this policy of balance that Britain sought as a way of avoiding war had failed.

India was undoubtedly the jewel in the imperial crown and Thesiger was to spend many years there, serving from 1858 to 1874. Apart from a short stint in a war in Abyssinia in 1868, his career mainly involved a variety of administrative posts. During his time in India some crucial contacts were made, especially with Sir Henry Edward Bartle Frere who was for a time Governor of Bombay. The empire was a network of contacts and acquaintances that often followed each other around, sometimes accidentally, more often as a loosely defined form of patronage. It was an era when who you knew was often far more important than what you knew.

Thesiger’s decision to stay in India was in part because he was not excessively well off. To be an officer in the British army was a major financial drain and India was a much cheaper place to live in style than Britain. Whilst he was in the subcontinent Thesiger married Adria Fanny in 1867 and four sons followed, one of whom became Viceroy of India in 1916 and eventually third Baron Chelmsford. Thesiger was very much a product of the Raj, with its racially superior attitudes and condescending views of other cultures, which frequently revealed themselves during the Anglo-Zulu War.

In 1874 Thesiger returned to Britain where he took up several short-term staff appointments, but by 1877 he was seeking a return to India, money issues again being the most likely reason. However, in 1878 he was posted to southern Africa (Frere had arrived there the year before) where he brought a brief war being waged against tribes on the eastern Cape frontier to a satisfactory conclusion. In that year too he became a Knight Commander of the Bath, an illustrious honour reflecting his popularity in some elevated circles; the queen would prove an especially useful ally in times of trouble.

Thesiger’s performance in the Anglo-Zulu War (by which time he had become Lord Chelmsford), especially at its outset, has coloured opinions to the exclusion of a fair assessment of some of his personal qualities. He displayed tremendous reserves of energy, thinking nothing of riding many miles in a day to explore the territory in which he was campaigning. Yet in its own way, this was evidence of a weakness, an inability to delegate effectively, that was to manifest itself on many occasions. He was a general who became far too heavily involved in minutiae to the exclusion of the big picture of well thought-out military strategy. And, at key times in the forthcoming campaign, he would be absent on scouting expeditions when his presence with his main force was urgently needed.

Thesiger’s leadership has frequently been derided based on some of the setbacks he suffered during the Anglo-Zulu War. Yet he was not completely incompetent. He would, however, make one fatal mistake in the war which undermined everything else: he would underestimate his enemy. He allowed his own prejudices concerning the superiority of the British over other ‘savage’ cultures to colour his military judgement with, from his perspective, catastrophic results. His crucial error was to assume that all African tribes fought in the same manner. Such, he would find out, was far from the case.

He had other failings which contributed to his misfortunes. Around him he would place a small clique of officers that he relied on in the absence of a properly manned and organised general staff. In the process he displayed another key weakness: an inability to judge his officers effectively. His choice of Major John Crealock, a pompous, sometimes obnoxious character with a short fuse, as his main military adviser in the field was particularly damaging. But, that said, Thesiger was an extremely popular man with many of his men. A big bear of a man, with a face hidden beneath a thick, bushy beard, many overlooked his faults as a strategist in deference to his personal qualities.

Despite this, when faced with accountability for the disasters that occurred at the beginning of the looming war, he was quick to look for scapegoats to take the blame. Whilst seemingly able to attract supporters, at the same time he was not slow to pass the buck to others when matters went awry. He would, in the process, understandably antagonise those who were associated with those he tried to blame.

In 1879, Thesiger’s was a record undisturbed by much in the way of military action, apart from his time in Abyssinia, yet in many ways it was typical of the class-orientated nature of the British army of the time. The purchasing of commissions meant that there was little prospect of anyone with talent rising to a senior command unless he also had money. However, the British army was changing, although the process was painfully slow. Under Edward Cardwell, Secretary of State for War between 1868 and 1874, some much-needed improvements had been implemented. But even then the results were not wholly successful. Some unfortunate side effects would reveal themselves during the Anglo-Zulu War.

The reforms Cardwell introduced were not universally popular and alienated many traditionalists in the military establishment. Several important changes were implemented with the aim of saving money as well as improving the army. The introduction of short service in 1870, where soldiers signed up for six years and then spent a further six in the reserve, brought many young men into the army and also gave the British establishment access to a much larger source of reserve manpower on which to call in times of stress.

However, this infusion of young blood was not without its problems. Some commanders – and Thesiger was one of them – were to bemoan the raw greenhorns they were given as soldiers as a result. Complaints about untrained young soldiers were consistent enough during the Anglo-Zulu War to imply that there was a real problem.

Cardwell also introduced brigade districts in Britain to which two sister battalions would be affiliated. The theory was that one would be at home whilst the other was abroad. Although superficially an excellent idea, in practice so many campaigns were fought overseas that in many cases both were away at once. By 1879, eighty-two battalions were abroad and only fifty-nine at home. This imbalance was due to what has often been called Queen Victoria’s ‘Little Wars’, which resulted in military entanglements across the globe from New Zealand to Canada, from the Gold Coast to Afghanistan. It stretched the British armed forces to the limit and occasionally beyond.

In conjunction with this reformed organisation of regiments, the purchasing of military commissions was abolished – a move that outraged many who had bought their way up the ladder. Nevertheless, this did not stop the British army from remaining an essentially conservative institution. This resistance to change was reinforced by the commander-in-chief of the British army, the Duke of Cambridge, who was very much of the old school. He too would remain a useful ally of Thesiger during the troubles that lay ahead (for a time at least), which reflected the fact that they were both, by nature, conservatives.

Thesiger arrived in southern Africa with the Ninth Frontier War well under way, where Colonel Glyn’s 1st Battalion of the 24th Regiment played a prominent role in the fighting. The tribes who were their enemy had routinely melted away rather than face the British army. Their strategy played a significant part in Thesiger’s future thinking, as he reasoned that other African armies would fight in the same fashion. The major problem against the Zulus, he believed, was getting them to fight. Once a battle was in progress there could, in his view, only be one winner.

Thesiger was only the military half of what would be a double-act bent on expansion in southern Africa. The chief political figure driving the move to war was the High Commissioner for South Africa, Sir Bartle Frere (though the role of Theophilus Shepstone should not be understated either). Frere had adopted the policy of Confederation, by which a block of friendly colonies in southern Africa would protect British interests there, in the process becoming little more than satellite states. Powerful independent entities like Zululand were an obstacle to this strategy and therefore had to be eliminated. This is where Thesiger, fresh from his triumphs in the Frontier War, came in.

Confederation was not a completely new phenomenon. The system tried in Canada gave individual states a degree of autonomy under the arrangement although they were expected to act in accordance with British interests. A similar system could work in southern Africa. The administrators of these Confederation states came from the ranks of colonists, as did the men for the militias which formed the bulk of their armed forces, helpfully relieving the pressure on overstretched battalions of the regular army. Frere was the local architect who planned to implement Confederation in southern Africa. The discovery of diamonds in the region in the recent past did nothing to discourage the development of this policy. Before, the area had been seen as nothing save a potential drain on resources; now the opportunity to reap the harvest of previously unknown natural resources made it much more attractive.

Frere had only arrived in Cape Town in 1877, but the idea that Africa offered the British Empire unexploited potential was already in his mind. He had said as much in a speech he had given at the inauguration of the African section of the Society of Arts on 30 January 1874. Frere’s reputation was made during his service in India and an impressive statue of him still stands proudly in the gardens by the Victoria Embankment in London. An information board next to it describes him as ‘an enlightened 19th Century administrator’. It is an interpretation that those who suffered from his supposedly enlightened policies in southern Africa, especially the Zulus whose country would ultimately be torn asunder by the British, would bitterly dispute.

His first target though had not been native tribes in the area but a Boer republic in the Transvaal. The ostensible excuse for British intervention there was that the small but independent state was teetering on the verge of bankruptcy (this followed the annexation of the Boer Orange Free State in 1871; again, the discovery of diamonds there four years earlier may not have been entirely unconnected with this move to expand the empire). Despite the presence of goldmines in the Transvaal, there was just £1 left in the state treasury.1 An unstable Transvaal, it was argued, would inevitably impact on neighbouring British colonies and could not, therefore, be accepted.

The Transvaal Boers had been involved in skirmishes with some of the neighbouring native kingdoms, especially the Zulus with whom they had had such a chequered history. Frere felt that the economic crisis and the border disputes that had occurred there introduced an unacceptable level of instability into the region and, as such, he intervened. He moved in and annexed the state. For the time being, the Boers felt powerless to resist. This was a situation, however, that would not last. But the Confederation juggernaut in southern Africa was now truly under way.

Sir Theophilus Shepstone was in London when he heard reports that a Boer force had been defeated by the Zulus. He had already been doing what he could to present the case for war against Cetshwayo, which he thought was inevitable. He received instructions from the British government that he was to annex Transvaal as long as the Boer settlers consented (though war against the Zulus was to be discouraged). On returning to southern Africa, Frere subtly amended this to annexation without any conditions.

The Boers had been encroaching on Zulu lands for some time. Cetshwayo, his patience exhausted, gathered together an army of 30,000 men and moved towards the Transvaal border. Shepstone, now back in Africa, hurried ahead of him and the deeply worried Boers agreed to British rule. Shepstone sent a message to Cetshwayo and the attack was called off. Some of the Zulus later suggested that Shepstone had encouraged their king to threaten the state so that he could take it for his own sovereign. Cetshwayo, however, tried to see the good in the situation; at least now the Boers might be easier to control, he thought. In the aftermath of the annexation he wrote that he was ‘glad to know that the Transvaal is now English ground; perhaps now there may be rest’.2 It was a statement made with touching and tragic naivety.

In the border disputes that had marked the situation in the Transvaal, the British had historically tended to side with the Zulus. However, now that they were the owners of the state, their view changed and they did a complete about-turn. There was undoubtedly room for confusion as to what was going on with regards to the frontier. Over a process of decades, Boers who had originally escaped from the British colonies in southern Africa had progressively expanded their territories. They had initially been well received by Mpande but levels of Zulu resentment had increased in proportion to Boer landholdings. It was difficult to define a border in this rugged, mountainous land and angry Zulus had started to resist further Boer encroachment. It was a situation compounded by the Zulus’ limited appreciation of what treaties that ceded land to the settlers actually meant in practice.

Zulu hostility due to the border dispute that Frere had inherited fuelled his belief that they were a threat towards British interests in southern Africa. They were therefore a prime target for Confederation. It was a fear fed by several flare-ups with other local tribes such as those in the Cape and the Pedi further north, who had recently defeated the Boers. Frere was a man who believed implicitly in the moral superiority of Western ‘civilisation’ and nothing could be allowed to stand in the way of its march towards dominance in the region.

There were a number of advantages that Frere foresaw as a result of a war with the Zulus. It would, of course, remove a powerful potential antagonist, but it would also both ingratiate the British to the Boers and emphasise to dissentient elements in the Transvaal the pointlessness of resisting their new masters. It would give Natal more freedom to manage African affairs and would send an exemplary message to any other tribes that dared resist British expansionism. All these were strong practical reasons but whether or not any would morally justify a war is a completely different matter.

Shepstone had outlined his own line of thinking in a dispatch he composed on 5 January 1878. To his mind, Zulu society was constructed solely with war in mind: ‘the Zulu constitution is essentially military; every man is a soldier …’ The absence of war in recent times had in fact generated significant tensions; in his view ‘the question is, what is to be done with this pent up and still accumulating power?’

The answer, of course, was that there must be a war to release this stored-up aggressive energy. Cetshwayo, Shepstone argued, was powerless to resist the tide. However, Shepstone also felt that most of the king’s people did not desire a war with the British in Natal. He further postulated that many of them were unhappy with Cetshwayo’s rule and would welcome, as he himself described it, a ‘revolution’ that would depose the king.3

This was far from the truth. There were no doubt disaffected parties in Zululand, but many of them had long since left the country, seeking safety in Natal in particular. But the enthusiasm with which the Zulus would fight in the upcoming conflict provided the strongest evidence possible that this conclusion was erroneous. It is hard to ignore the perception that Shepstone himself knew this when he said it and was merely searching for an argument for war.

Although there may be a temptation to see the Anglo-Zulu War as a clash between races, to do so would be a gross oversimplification. The huge majority of Natal residents were black; the government statistics produced in The BlueBook for Natal in 1879 show that there were 26,654 Europeans, 16,999 Indians and 319,935 Africans.4 The vast majority of Africans either supported the British against the Zulus or stayed out of it; many Natal residents were families of refugees from Zululand and had little time for Cetshwayo. In fact, the size of the population in many ways underscored the stability that had been a feature of Natal in recent times; in the early years of the 1840s the highest estimate of the total population was 42,000.5

The natives in the colony either lived in ‘locations’ set aside for them or worked on lands farmed by settlers. They were still organised in clans, each under their own chief. Most of them still formed part of a regimental system, arranged along the same lines as those of Cetshwayo’s army, though they had not fought in earnest for some time and their fighting skills were rusty. However, they provided a significant reservoir of manpower for the British to tap to provide logistical support.

Frere was confident that British arms would emerge triumphant in any conflict. British forces were not numerous in the region as London did not see it as a colonial priority but Frere believed that the troops’ superior armament would be decisive. The British soldier relied on modern rifles, usable at long range, whereas a Zulu warrior was armed with a short stabbing spear, the assegai, only of use at close quarters.6 Many Zulus did have firearms but they were largely of old design and the marksmanship of their owners was not good. One man who faced them, Captain William Molyneux, felt that the British army would have been in much more trouble if the Zulus had stuck to assegais instead of trying to use firearms.7

That said, it was estimated that there were up to 20,000 firearms in Zululand in 1879, though only 500 of them were relatively modern breech-loaders.8 But the short-range stabbing assegai was the main weapon of choice even though the throwing version was also still in use. A number of warriors also carried heavy wooden clubs, knobkerries, vicious looking with nodules carved out at the end to increase their braining power.

Frere, despite his coterie of Confederates, had experienced opposition from other quarters. The Lieutenant-Governor of Natal, Sir Henry Bulwer, was quite content with the state of relations with the Zulu state which had been almost entirely peaceful in recent years. Therefore, he was at best a reluctant supporter of the plan to go to war with Cetshwayo; his opposition to the war would increase as it progressed. He now offered to be an arbitrator in the dispute over the lands bordering the Transvaal and Zululand. Frere could hardly refuse and Cetshwayo was happy enough to agree. A Boundary Commission was duly established.

The Commission met in March 1878, close to a crossing point into Zululand known as Rorke’s Drift. It would take several months to work through the evidence. A number of Zulu and Boer witnesses were called to present their respective cases. At the end of the deliberations, the result was exactly the opposite of what Frere wanted: a decision broadly in support of the Zulu case. Although this was kept secret for a while, some got an inkling of it: the NatalWitness, a colonial newspaper, was one, expressing the view that ‘the Border Commission have brought their labours to a close, and we think it very probable that more harm than good will result from the costly comedy’.9

One of the Commissioners, Lieutenant Colonel Anthony Durnford, felt that they had acted fairly; he hoped their decisions would be respected. This would not be the case, and Durnford and many others would suffer tragic personal consequences. The Commission, also including a prominent lawyer Michael Galwey and John Shepstone, brother of Sir Theophilus, nevertheless had performed its task conscientiously. Frere, whose arguments for war had been seriously damaged by its decision, used his influence to keep the result secret for the time being.

Frere had apparently decided that a war was by now virtually unavoidable. As early as April 1878, he was writing to the British naval chief in the region, Commodore Sullivan, requesting him to remain in Natal as ‘it appeared almost certain that serious complications must shortly arise with the Zulu tribe … which will necessitate active operations’.10