Chapter Thirty Three.
The first glimpse we had of Pieter Maritzberg was very pleasing. A spirit of freedom and sociability pervaded the very air.
Several banks, newspaper and Government offices had fine, imposing buildings. The town is surrounded by beautiful hills and lovely drives. Here the camellia trees grew to the height of twenty feet, bearing their crimson and white, scentless flowers. Flowers grew in profusion without any coaxing, and the winter days were like those of our early spring.
Owners of the handsome houses had some satisfaction in beautifying the grounds surrounding them, as everything planted tried to bloom at its best. The cactus plant, with its brilliant flower and rugged leaves, formed hedges, whilst vines clambered over lovely little villas that smilingly looked out at the passer-by.
The hotel was pleasanter than any we had been in. Soon after our arrival we were fortunate in finding several large rooms comfortably furnished, where we lived in health and happiness. The restaurant near by supplied our table in our own dining-room, and Coolie boys waited on us. The service of the boys in a warm climate like Natal was a great relief. Our young Coolie, David, who attended to the household duties, was the prettiest boy in Maritzberg, but this was not to be wondered at after seeing his mother. Unlike the usual small, childlike Coolie woman, she was tall, with beautiful dark eyes, waving raven black hair, and dimpled cheeks; over her head and shoulders hung carelessly and in graceful folds the yellow handkerchief. How I wished I had the talent to sketch her as she stood, for “our special artist” was not there at that moment.
Another characteristic thing we had to accustom ourselves to was our washerman. A black man would come and get the bundle of soiled clothes, and take it down to the river; he and his wife would stand in the water by a big flat rock, and with a stone proceed to pound the dirt out of our linen. We had a few dozen or so of garments returned, with laces bedraggled and holes knocked through the delicate fabrics. It was necessary to call in a sewing woman to make up a bolt of linen for new garments; but our experience was gained and paid for.
As we intended to make this visit to Natal our farewell to South Africa, we spent much of our time in extensive rides to various parts of the country. We owned six horses and a light running two-seated Cape cart that served to make our excursions into the surrounding country delightful. Our leaders were famous hurdle racers. Our wheelers were famous for having been used by the Empress Eugenie during her sad visit to Zulu Land.
She came in her loneliness to visit the spot where her noble son, the Prince Imperial, had fallen, pierced through by the cruel assegais of the Zulus, who had surprised him in the tall Zulu grass when hunting. He fought single handed, and returned backwards to his horse. When found dead it was proved on examination that he had met death bravely, having received every wound with his face to his black foe.
We started one fine morning for a drive to some famous falls several miles distant from Maritzberg. It took half an hour to climb the long town hill, and we were on the downward grade when the brake of our cart broke. The horses were soon on a run down the steep, rocky road, and it seemed as if nothing could save us from being mixed up with the horses’ heels. No one uttered a word, but we soon saw that our only hope lay in keeping the horses in hand. The long whip whistled over their heads and struck the leaders a sharp cut, for upon those two horses depended everything; if they would only leap and jump away from their flying companions in the rear we were safe. The dear creatures seemed to know what had occurred, and they just lifted their beautiful heads and fairly skimmed the earth, going as far to one side of the road as they could, and then across to the other side, thus keeping the cart from rolling down upon them. Not more than ten minutes elapsed from the time we started on that downward grade until we reached the level road. Here a wheel came off, and down we all went, and the horses came to a standstill. We were only too glad to come to a halt, no matter how sudden.
On our return journey we met two native witch doctors, with their peculiar musical instruments in the shape of a mandolin, and made by their own hands. Mr Watson, editor of the Natal Witness, was of our party, and requested them, in their own language, to dance for us, which they did, playing on their instruments and keeping perfect time with head and feet, and certain undulations of the body. The faces of the dancers grew more and more serious as the dance proceeded.
Walking along the street one day I observed a tall Zulu approaching, dressed to his knees in a sleeveless shirt. He stood about six feet high, and carried a knob cane. As he approached the very earth seemed to shake under his powerful tread, and as he passed and breathed out an “umph,” “umph,” at each step, a cold chill went all through me, and I felt for the first time that the strongest pale-face was a mere child compared to this mighty black man. His physical force was so great that, as he passed, I felt as if my spirit had been overthrown by a wave of power.
The very social people we met in Maritzberg aided us in making excursions full of interest. We were afforded opportunities for visiting some Zulu kraals, and in that way gained much knowledge of this remarkable people.
Near one kraal lay three women on the ground, basking in the sun. Their dress consisted of the skins of a few small wild animals hanging from their waists, whilst strings of beads, glass and metal adorned neck, waist, and ankle. During the time we stood watching them they spoke a few words, consisting of vocal sounds and clicking the tongue against the roof of the mouth; but they never moved hand or foot, and rarely winked as they gazed at us. A stay in Africa would give to a sculptor ample opportunity for study from superb models. We might easily have imagined, as we stood looking at them, with their rounded necks and limbs glancing in the sunlight, that we were gazing on statuary in bronze. Cunning little naked children, with rounded little limbs and big swelled stomachs, peculiar to these children, were playing round them, but they are such timid creatures that as we approached they crept into the hole of their hut on all-fours.
The known records of the race date back to 1810 and a famous warlike chief Chaka, who led his men to victory against both black and white, enslaving the former and driving Dutch and English back of the Drakensberg and to the sea. There are many students of native history who assert that the Zulus were originally from Northern Africa, and had fought their way through opposing tribes, down to the country they now hold, which teems with game, and is rich in gold and minerals. There are even those who say that they are the offshoot of an outlying tribe of the ancient Egyptians. This, however, must be merely conjecture, and, if the report contains a grain of truth, the early Egyptians have considerably altered in their physical and mental peculiarities during their three or four thousand years of travel through the equatorial regions.
These Zulus, however, are exceptionally brave, and fight, as the colonists will testify, like fanatics or fiends.
Their old military chief, “Chaka,” who fifty years ago was the warrior chief of Zulu Land, was justly named the Napoleon of South Africa. From a common soldier in the ranks of Dingenayo, he rose to be chief, and was the first to organise the Zulus into regiments, breaking up the old tribal system, and training them to the severest discipline. With but few exceptions his warriors were not allowed to marry, and were trained only for military conquest. The result was, that when they did burst over the land, and attacked the peaceful tribes in Natal, which at that time numbered about a million, these Zulu warriors reduced them to a mere flock of twenty thousand souls hiding in the mountain clefts.
