Sutu advanced, and, placing her hand on the staff of peace, her example was followed by all the rest in succession. As Stock approached, his Excellency exclaimed, “Stock, son of Eno! is not your sleep disturbed by evil spirits, as a punishment for the contempt with which you treated your father’s last words?—And for you, Páto, Colonel Somerset has taken you out of the bush this time: you may thank him for your life; had I been there, you should have lost your head.” (Note 1.)
Páto’s appearance was miserable. He more resembled a Hottentot than a Kaffir, being of the Gona tribe, which is a mixture of both races. An old handkerchief was wound round his head, and his shrunken limbs were enveloped in a dirty blanket. Several times during Sir Harry Smith’s address, those peculiar murmurs of wonder, approbation, and assent, which I have elsewhere compared to the waves of a great ocean, rising and falling in the distance, went through the mighty circle. As the Governor took care to remind them occasionally that Chieftainship, in their sense of the term, was abolished, and declared, from that moment, he was the Great Inkosi Enkulu, and the representative of the Queen of England, an irrepressible groan burst forth from the Kaffirs; but none attempted to reply; all seemed paralysed by fear. Not even an assegai was to be seen in their hands—a most unusual circumstance among these savage tribes.
At the close of his stern address to the assembled Kaffirs, his Excellency read the Proclamation defining the conditions on which British Kaffraria is to be occupied for the future. Colonel Mackinnon was appointed to the command of the district. While reading this, he paused at several passages, giving the Chiefs an opportunity of ascertaining the exact meaning of what they heard; as he uttered the word “conquered,” in reference to the territory, his manner and tone were such as could not be misunderstood.
The Chiefs, declaring it was “good,” were ordered to advance separately, and to touch the staff of Peace or War, as pleased them best. There was no hesitation in deciding: the voice of Young Kaffirland had been silenced, and the Chiefs stepped forward one by one, kissing Sir Harry Smith’s foot as he sat on horseback, in token of their repentance for the past, and as a guarantee for future submission.
Not one of them approached the new Inkosi Enkulu, without eliciting some severe remarks. Threats were not spared, accompanied by significant gestures. “He would teach them,” he said, “who should henceforth be their masters; and, if they failed to obey his Word, he would sweep the disobedient from the land.” In short, he gave them to understand, in plain English, that they were a set of unworthy miscreants, who had forfeited all claim to indulgence; but who, upon a promise of future good behaviour, were to be mercifully tried once more, but not to be trusted. No! Sir Harry Smith knew them too well for that!
Words like these, from his lips, carried with them more weight than all the written documents the Colonial Office could send forth. As the Chiefs retired to their position, his Excellency, having possessed himself of a piece of paper for the purpose, held it up to the multitude as emblematic of the former Treaties; and, tearing it to pieces, scattered it to the winds, exclaiming with his accustomed energy, “There go the Treaties!” He next seized the staff of war, and, poising it for a few moments, cast it to the ground with great vehemence. “Behold,” said he, “the end of war! And now, three cheers for Peace!” Lifting his hat, he bade those beside him follow his example. The loud hurrahs ascended to the sky, sending their echoes along the banks of the Buffalo River. All united in the acclamations which the occasion called forth. From soldiers, spectators, and Kaffirs arose one simultaneous shout, and from kloof to kloof, from plain to plain, resounded the cheers which proclaimed “Peace on earth, and good will towards men!” two days before the great festival of Christmas.
On the evening of the 23rd, some of the chiefs being offered coffee in an officer’s tent, old Botman was heard making sundry remarks on the occurrences of the day. On being asked what he thought of the Governor’s address, he replied, “The day was stormy—the wind blew very strong.” But there was no gaining from him his real opinion as to past circumstances, or future arrangements.
It is the custom of the Kaffirs to assemble after any great gathering, whether of peace or war, a wedding or a witchcraft scene. Those who have not been present are always desirous of hearing “the news.” When Sir Harry Smith was in Kaffirland in 1836 he had occasion to summon the Chiefs to a meeting, when he reproached them severely for sundry aggressions. On their dismissal, they repaired to the Kraal, where several members of each tribe awaited their return with the eager question, “What news?” “There was a storm,” said one, “Much thunder!” “But,” asked another, “was it followed by refreshing rain?” “Oh! yes, when the thunder ceased there fell some cooling and pleasant showers;” alluding to food and gifts.
One secret of Sir Harry Smith’s success is, that he does not suffer the Kaffirs to parley with him. He looks upon them now as unworthy to be listened to, and they feel this; they make no attempt to reply. As for reasoning with them, it were but lost time; they are the cleverest logicians in the world, and have always an answer more suitable to their own purpose than we could possibly anticipate.
Umhala was once told he could not be permitted to marry a Christian Kaffir girl, as he had eleven wives already. After repeated messages and munificent offers of cattle, etc, on his part he pressed his suit by saying, “his wives knew not the white man’s God; he desired to have a Christian wife, that she might teach him!” He did not succeed, however, with the lady. “We know,” said a Kaffir to a missionary, “that what you tell us is for our good. We feel it must be so, because you bid us be kind to one another, and to be neither thieves nor liars. You bid our children be dutiful, our wives obedient, our neighbours peaceful; but when you tell us to abide with our old wives, and take no more young ones, then the teacher’s words are no longer good, and our ears are deaf to them.”