Rorke’s Drift, however, apart, the disaster to the British at Isandhlwana was paralysing in its effect upon not only the colony of Natal, but the home country. The outcry against Lord Chelmsford was bitter in both places. He was accused of having neglected the simple precautions which the Boers had always adopted in fighting with the Zulus, and which had been observed in our own campaigns against the Kaffirs. Though the silent celerity, the cunning, and the reckless bravery of the foe were well known, the camp at Isandhlwana had been pitched in a site singularly exposed and indefensible; it had not been protected even by a single trench, nor were the waggons “laagered.” The arrangements for scouting had permitted a large Zulu force to assemble unperceived. The small party in Natal of which the Bishop of Colenso may be regarded as the leader, argued that Sir Bartle Frere had not only commenced an unjust war, but had commenced it with inadequate resources. Other parties declared it to be a military accident which ordinary prudence could not have foreseen.

Panic, however, reigned for a season in Natal. “It is impossible,” wrote Mr. Archibald Forbes, the special correspondent of the “Daily News,” in a graphic description of the situation which appeared on May 7, 1879, “to imagine a more critical situation than that now existing round the frontier of Zululand. The British territory lies at the mercy of the Zulus.”

With such a state of affairs, the pacific intentions of King Cetewayo were never more clearly shown than at the present juncture, when he failed to press home the advantage his people had already won. Instead, the king once more made overtures of peace. “Cetewayo,” ran one message, “sees no reason for the war which is being waged against him, and he asks the Government to appoint a place at which a conference could be held, with a view to the conclusion of peace.” Added to such messages as these the Government expressed, through Sir Stafford Northcote, its anxiety “to promote an early and reasonable pacification of South Africa.”

Miss Colenso’s observations at this juncture are emphatic in the extreme:—“The High Commissioner’s (Sir Bartle Frere’s) habit of finding evil motives for every act of the Zulu king, made the case of the latter hopeless from the first.”

Be these things as they may, the war, once begun, was carried on—but under new auspices.

With a feeling of relief the public learned, on May 26th, that Sir Garnet Wolseley had been sent out to South Africa to take command of the forces, and to conduct, as the Queen’s Commissioner, the Governments of Natal and the Transvaal, and our relations with the Zulus. In making this appointment, the Government were careful to explain that no slight, either upon Sir Bartle Frere or Lord Chelmsford was intended, but that “an arrangement by which the chief civil and military authority at the seat of war was distributed among several persons, could no longer be deemed adequate.” On June 28th, Sir Garnet Wolseley arrived in Natal.

Meanwhile, the other columns of the expedition had been operating with more or less success elsewhere. On the day of Isandhlwana, Colonel Pearson’s column had been engaged against an impi of 5000 Zulus, ten miles south of Ekowe, and defeated them with heavy loss. With 1200 men he then prepared to hold the carefully-entrenched position he had selected round the mission buildings at Ekowe. In a very brief space of time he found himself cut off from his communications, and hemmed in on all sides by the enemy. By means of heliograph signals communication was kept up by the beleagured force and Fort Tenedos, the base of relief on the Tugela, and by this means it was soon ascertained that towards the end of March the defenders would be hard pressed for provisions. Relief was accordingly hurried forward, and on the 29th of the month a column, of 4000 British troops fresh from England, and 2000 natives, started from the Tugela. Every possible precaution was observed by Lord Chelmsford, who commanded in person. At early dawn on the 2nd April, Colonel Pearson flashed intelligence to the relieving force that the enemy were approaching.

The Zulus swept on with their usual reckless valour, and were met with a perfect hail of lead and fire, gatlings and rocket batteries being used with deadly effect. Again and again they renewed the onset, but “never got nearer than twenty yards to the shelter trenches,” and after an hour and a half of splendid fight, they broke and fled. The cavalry cut down the fugitives, and of their force of 10,000, 1500 lay dead upon the field. This engagement at Gingihlovo, resulting in the relief of Colonel Pearson, cost us but a trifling loss.

Elsewhere, Colonels Wood and Rowlands had joined hands, and were pressing Umbilini, the Swazi chief, who had succeeded in cutting up some 45 men of the 80th regiment while sleeping in camp on the Intombi river. Colonel Wood, on March 28th, captured this chief’s stronghold at Hlobani, but while returning to his camp with many captured cattle, was trapped by the whole Zulu impi, and, on the following day, his camp at Kambula was attacked by 20,000 Zulus. For four hours a desperate fight ensued, but finally the enemy were driven off. Soon after this Umbilini himself was killed.

The tide of war now turned. By the 15th April all the British reinforcements had arrived, and the invasion of the enemy’s country, deferred by Isandhlwana, was again considered. Ulundi, as before, the king’s chief kraal, was the objective of the expedition, and much time was yet spent in getting together supplies for the large force now about to be employed, and in considering the route it was to take.