Cetywayo and his White Neighbours | Page 6

had
brought it dear, and were in no position to continue their charge; so the
leaders of that brave battalion formed its remnants into a ring, and, like
the Scotch at Flodden--
"The stubborn spearmen still made good The dark, impenetrable wood;
Each stepping where his comrade stood The instant that he fell,"
till there were none left to fall. The ground around them was piled with
dead.

But this gallant charge availed Umbelazi but little, and by degrees
Cetywayo's forces pressed his men back to the banks of the Tugela, and
finally into it. Thousands fell upon the field and thousands perished in
the river. When my friend swam back that night, he had nothing to fear
from the alligators: they were too well fed. Umbelazi died on the
battlefield of a broken heart, at least it is said that no wound could be
found on his person. He probably expired in a fit brought on by anxiety
of mind and fatigue. A curious story is told of Cetywayo with reference
to his brother's death. After the battle was over a Zulu from one of his
own regiments presented himself before him with many salutations,
saying, "O prince! now canst thou sleep in peace, for Umbelazi is
dead." "How knowest thou that he is dead?" said Cetywayo. "Because I
slew him with my own hand," replied the Zulu. "Thou dog!" said the
prince, "thou hast dared to lift thy hand against the blood royal, and
now thou makest it a matter of boasting. Wast thou not afraid? By
Chaka's head thou shalt have thy reward. Lead him away." And the
Zulu, who was but lying after all, having possessed himself of the
bracelets off the dead prince's body, was instantly executed. The
probability is that Cetywayo acted thus more from motives of policy
than from affection to his brother, whom indeed he hoped to destroy. It
did not do to make too light of the death of an important prince:
Umbelazi's fate to-day might be Cetywayo's fate to-morrow. This story
bears a really remarkable resemblance to that of the young man who
slew Saul, the Lord's anointed, and suffered death on account thereof at
the hands of David.
This battle is also memorable as being the occasion of the first public
appearance of Mr. John Dunn, now the most important chief in
Zululand, and, be it understood, the unknown quantity in all future
transactions in that country. At that time Dunn was a retainer of
Umbelazi's, and fought on his side in the Tugela battle. After the fight,
however, he went over to Cetywayo and became his man. From that
time till the outbreak of the Zulu war he remained in Zululand as
adviser to Cetywayo, agent for the Natal Government, and purveyor of
firearms to the nation at large. As soon as Cetywayo got into trouble
with the Imperial Government, Dunn, like a prudent man, deserted him
and came over to us. In reward Sir Garnet Wolseley advanced him to
the most important chieftainship in Zululand, which he hopes to make a

stepping-stone to the vacant throne. His advice was largely followed by
Sir Garnet in the bestowal of the other chieftainships, and was naturally
not quite disinterested. He has already publicly announced his intention
of resisting the return of the king, his old master, by force of arms,
should the Government attempt to reinstate him.
A period of sixteen years elapsed before Cetywayo reaped the fruits of
the battle of the Tugela by succeeding to the throne on the death of his
father, Panda, the only Zulu monarch who has as yet come to his end
by natural causes.
In 1861, however, Cetywayo was, at the instance of the Natal
Government, formally nominated heir to the throne by Mr. Shepstone,
it being thought better that a fixed succession should be established
with the concurrence of the Natal Government than that matters should
be left to take their chance on Panda's death. Mr. Shepstone
accomplished his mission successfully, though at great personal risk.
For some unknown reason, Cetywayo, who was blown up with pride,
was at first adverse to being thus nominated, and came down to the
royal kraal with three thousand armed followers, meaning, it would see,
to kill Mr. Shepstone, whom he had never before met. Panda, the old
king, had an inkling of what was to happen, but was powerless to
control his son, so he confined himself to addressing the assembled
multitude in what I have heard Sir Theophilus Shepstone say was the
most eloquent and touching speech he ever listened to, the subject
being the duties of hospitality. He did not at the time know how nearly
the speech concerned him, or that its object was to preserve his life.
This, however, soon became manifest