Impressions of South Africa

by Viscount James Bryce Bryce

Most of the peaceful growth which has been described would have been more rapid but for the frequent vexation of native wars. Twice under the rule of the Dutch Company and seven times under the British crown have there been sanguinary conflicts with the fierce Kafir tribes of the Kosa group, who dwell in the east of the Colony. On the north there had been only Hottentots, a weak nomad race, who soon vanished under the attacks of smallpox and the pressure of the whites. On the north-east the deserts of the Karroo lay between the colonists and the Kafirs who inhabited the plains of the Upper Orange and Vaal rivers. But on the east the country was comparatively well watered, and supported a large Kafir population full of courage and fighting spirit. Collisions between them and the whites were inevitable. The country they occupied was mostly rugged, and covered with a dense low wood, or rather scrub, traversed by narrow and winding tracks, which were of course familiar to them, and difficult for white troops. They had always the advantage in point of numbers, and though they were usually beaten and compelled to sue for peace, the obvious anxiety of the colonial government to conclude a peace emboldened them to fresh outbreaks. To civilized men, who know the enormous superiority of discipline and of firearms, it seems strange that these natives, who in the earlier wars had no firearms, should have so often renewed what we can see was a hopeless struggle. But it must be remembered that the natives, who saw only small white forces brought against them, and knew that the whole number of whites in the Colony was small, have never realized, and do not realize even to-day, the enormous reserve of the white population in Europe. Their minds cannot take in large numbers, cannot look far forward, cannot grasp large issues, and are swayed by sudden gusts of feeling which overcome all calculation of results. Accordingly, the Kafirs returned over and over again to the contest, while the colonial government, not wishing to extend its frontiers, and hating the expense of this unprofitable strife, never grappled with the problem in a large way, but tried on each occasion to do just enough to restore order for the time being. It would probably have been better to have spent once for all a large sum in a thorough conquest of the Kosas, planting strong forts here and there through their country, and organizing a regular gendarmerie. But until the annexation of Natal in 1843 placed British power on the other side of these turbulent tribes, the process of conquest might well seem interminable, for it was plain that as soon as one clan had been brought to submission troubles would break out with the next that lay beyond it, and fresh wars have to be undertaken to reduce each of these in its turn. Some allowance must therefore be made for the tendency of the government to take short views and do no more than was needed for the moment, especially as nearly every new war brought upon the Governor for the time being the displeasure of the Colonial Office, and brought upon the Colonial Office the censure of economists and philanthropists at home.

The theatre of these wars was the country along the south coast between Algoa Bay and the Kei River, and an important step forward was made when, after the wars of 1846-47 and 1851-53, the province of British Kaffraria, extending to the Kei River, was created, placed under imperial officials, and garrisoned by British regiments. Four years afterwards, in 1857, the Kafirs of this province, at the bidding of their chiefs, prompted by a wizard who professed to have received messages from the world of spirits, destroyed their cattle and their stores of grain, in the belief that the dead ancestors of the tribe would reappear and join them in driving out the white men, while herds of cattle would issue from the ground and crops would suddenly spring up and cover the soil. Many of the clans were already on the verge of famine when the promised day arrived, and when it had passed starvation began, and within a few months, despite the efforts of the colonial authorities to supply food, some 30,000 Kafirs perished of hunger or disease. This frightful catastrophe, which carried many thousands westward into Cape Colony in search of work, and left large tracts vacant, led to the establishment in those tracts of white settlers, and ultimately, in 1865, to the union of British Kaffraria with the Colony. It also so much weakened the Kosas that for the unprecedentedly long period of twenty years there was no Kafir war. In 1877 and 1880 some risings occurred which were suppressed with no great difficulty; and in 1894 the boundaries of the Colony, which had been advancing by a series of small annexations, were finally rounded off on the eastern side by the addition of the territory of the Pondos, which made it conterminous in that direction with the Colony of Natal.

To complete the chronicle of native wars, we ought now to turn to Natal, on whose borders there arose, in 1879, a conflict with the greatest native power—that of the Zulus—which the British had yet encountered. Before that year, however, a momentous change in British colonial policy had occurred, and I must go a little way back to describe the events which gave rise to it.

The reader will recollect that in 1852 and 1854 Britain had abjured all purpose of extending the boundaries of her dominion towards the interior by recognizing the independence of the two Dutch republics, which date their legal rise from the two conventions concluded in those years. She had done so quite honestly, desiring to avoid the expense and responsibility which further advances must entail, and with the wish of leaving the two new republics to work out their own salvation in their own way. For some years nothing occurred to create fresh difficulties. But in 1858 a war broke out between the Orange Free State and the Basuto chief Moshesh, who claimed land which the Free State farmers had occupied. The Free State commandos attacked him, and had penetrated Basutoland as far as the stronghold of Thaba Bosiyo, when they were obliged to return to protect their own farms from the roving bands of horsemen which Moshesh had skilfully detached to operate in their rear. Being hard pressed they appealed to the Governor of Cape Colony to mediate between them and Moshesh. Moshesh agreed, and a new frontier was settled by the Governor. However, in 1865 fresh troubles broke out, and there was again war between Moshesh and the Free State. The Governor of Cape Colony was again invoked, but his decision was not respected by the Basutos, whom Moshesh could not always control,—for they are much less submissive to their chiefs than are the Zulus,—and hostilities having recommenced after a brief interval of peace, the Free State made a supreme effort, and in 1868 was on the point of destroying the Basuto power, though it had never been able to capture Thaba Bosiyo, when Moshesh appealed to the High Commissioner to extend British protection to his people. Unwilling to see Basutoland annexed by the Free State, and fearing injury to the Colony from the dispersion of Basuto fugitives through it, the High Commissioner consented, and declared the Basutos British subjects. The Free State was suffered to retain a large tract of fertile land along the north bank of the Caledon River, which it had conquered; but it was mortified by seeing British authority established to the south of it, all the way from Natal to the borders of Cape Colony, and by the final extinction of the hopes which it had cherished of extending its territories to the sea and acquiring a harbour at the mouth of the St. John's River.

These events, which befell in 1869, mark the recommencement of British advance toward the interior. Still more momentous was another occurrence which belongs to the same year. In 1869 and 1870 a sudden rush began from all parts of South Africa to a small district between the Modder and the Vaal rivers (where the town of Kimberley now stands), in which diamonds had been discovered. Within a few months thousands of diggers from Europe and America, as well as from the surrounding countries, were at work here, and the region, hitherto neglected, became a prize of inestimable value. A question at once arose as to its ownership. The Orange Free State claimed it, but it was also claimed by a Griqua (half-breed) captain, named Nicholas Waterboer, son of old Andries Waterboer, and by a native Batlapin chief, while parts were claimed by the Transvaal Republic. The claims of the last-named state were disposed of by the decision of the Governor of Natal, who had been recognized as arbitrator by the Griquas, the Batlapin, and the President of the Republic. He awarded the tract in dispute to Waterboer, including in his award the part claimed by the Free State, which had refused arbitration so far as regarded the district lying south of the Vaal, holding that district to have been indubitably part of the old Orange River sovereignty, which was in 1854 turned into the Orange Free State. As Waterboer had before the award offered his territory to the British government, the country was forthwith erected into a Crown Colony under the name of Griqualand West. This was in 1871. The Free State, whose case had not been stated, much less argued, before the umpire, protested, and was after a time able to appeal to a judgment delivered by a British court, which found that Waterboer had never enjoyed any right to the territory. However, the new Colony had by this time been set up and the British flag displayed. The British government, without either admitting or denying the Free State title, declared that a district in which it was difficult to keep order amid a turbulent and shifting population ought to be under the control of a strong power, and offered the Free State a sum of ninety thousand pounds in settlement of whatever claim it might possess. The acceptance by the Free State in 1876 of this sum closed the controversy, though a sense of injustice continued to rankle in the breasts of some of the citizens of the Republic. Amicable relations have subsisted ever since between it and Cape Colony, and the control of the British government over the Basutos has secured for it peace in the quarter which was formerly most disturbed.

These two cases show how various are the causes and how mixed the motives which press a great power forward even against the wishes of its statesmen. The Basutos were declared British subjects partly out of a sympathetic wish to rescue and protect them, partly because policy required the acquisition of a country naturally strong and holding an important strategical position. Griqualand West, taken in the belief that Waterboer had a good title to it, was retained after this belief had been dispelled, partly perhaps because a population had crowded into it which consisted mainly of British subjects, and was not easily controllable by a small state, but mainly because colonial feeling refused to part with a region of such exceptional mineral wealth. And the retention of Griqualand West caused, before long, the acquisition of Bechuanaland, which in its turn naturally led to that northward extension of British influence which has carried the Union Jack to the shores of Lake Tanganyika. The wish to restrict responsibility, which had been so strong twenty years before, had now died out of the British public at home, and had grown feebler even in the minds of the statesmen whose business it was to find the money needed for these increasing charges on the imperial treasury; while the philanthropic interest in the native races, stimulated by the discoveries of Livingstone, now took the form not of proposing to leave them to themselves, but of desiring to protect them against the adventurers, whether of Boer or of English blood, whom it was found impossible to prevent from pressing forward into the wilderness.

It is remarkable that the change, as yet only an incipient change, in the public opinion of the English people, who now began to feel the desire not merely to retain but to expand their colonial dominion, should have become apparent just at the time when there occurred that discovery of diamonds which showed that this hitherto least progressive of the larger Colonies possessed unsuspected stores of wealth. The discovery brought a new stream of enterprising and ambitious men into the country, and fixed the attention of the world upon it. It was a turning point in South African history.

That change in the views of the British Government on which I have been commenting found at this moment a fresh expression in another quarter. In 1869 the Portuguese Government concluded a commercial treaty with the South African Republic, under which it seemed probable that a considerable trade might spring up between the Portuguese coast of the Indian Ocean and the interior. This called attention to the port of Lourenço Marques, on the shore of Delagoa Bay, the best haven upon that coast. Great Britain claimed it under a cession which had been obtained from a native chief of the country by a British naval exploring expedition in 1822. Portugal, however, resisted the claim. In 1872 it was referred to the arbitration of Marshal MacMahon, then President of the French Republic, and in 1875 he awarded the territory in dispute to Portugal. Both cases were weak, and it is not easy to say which was the weaker, for, although the Portuguese had undoubtedly been first on the ground, their occupation, often disturbed by the native tribes, had been extremely precarious. The decision was a serious blow to British hopes, and has become increasingly serious with the further development of the country. Yet it was mitigated by a provision contained in the agreement for arbitration that the Power against whom the decision might go should have thereafter from the successful Power a right of preëmption as against any other state desiring to purchase the territory.[23] This provision is momentous as giving Britain the right to prevent not only the South African Republic, but any European power, from acquiring a point of the utmost importance both commercial and strategical. Rumours have often been circulated that Britain would gladly acquire by purchase the harbour of Delagoa Bay, but the sensitive patriotism of the Portuguese people is at present so strongly opposed to any sale of territory that no Portuguese ministry is likely to propose it.[24]

At the very time when the attempt to acquire Delagoa Bay revealed the new purposes which had begun to animate Great Britain, another scheme was suggested to the Colonial Office by the success which had lately attended its efforts in Canada. In 1867 the passing of the British North America Act drew the theretofore isolated provinces of the Dominion into a confederation, relieving the home government of some grave responsibilities, and giving to the whole country the advantages of common administration and legislation in matters of common concern. Lord Carnarvon, then colonial secretary, threw himself into the idea of similarly uniting the different Colonies and States of South Africa. It had been advocated by Sir George Grey, when Governor in 1858, and had even received the support of the Orange Free State, whose Volksraad passed a resolution favouring it in that year. Many considerations of practical convenience suggested this scheme, chief among them the desirability of having both a uniform policy in native affairs (the absence of which had recently caused trouble) and a common commercial policy and tariff system. Accordingly, in 1875 Lord Carnarvon addressed a despatch to the Governor of Cape Colony, recommending such a scheme as fit to be adopted by that Colony, which three years before had received responsible government, and Mr. J.A. Froude was sent out to press it upon the people. The choice did not prove a fortunate one, but even a more skilful emissary would probably have failed, for the moment was inopportune. The Cape people were not ready for so large and far-reaching a proposal. The Orange Free State was exasperated at the loss of Griqualand West. The Transvaal people, though, as we shall see presently, their republic was in sore straits, were averse to anything that could affect their independence. However, Sir Bartle Frere, the next Governor of the Cape, who went out in 1877, entered heartily into Lord Carnarvon's plan, which continued to be pressed till 1880, when it was rejected by the Cape Parliament, largely at the instance of envoys from the Transvaal Boers, who urged the Cape Dutch not to accept it until the Transvaal (which, as shall be presently set forth, had been annexed in 1877) should have regained its independence. This failure of the proposals of the home government seriously damaged the prospects of future federation schemes, and is only one of several instances in South African history that show how much harm impatience may do, even when the object is itself laudable.

The next step in the forward march of British rule took place far to the south-west, on the borders of Natal. That territory had, in 1856, become a separate Colony, distinct from the Cape, and with a legislative council three-fourths of whose members were elective. It had still a relatively small white population, for many of the Boer immigrants had quitted it between 1843 and 1848, and though a body of English settlers arrived soon after the latter year, there were in 1878 only some 25,000 white residents, while the natives numbered fully 300,000. The Zulu kingdom, which adjoined it on the east, had passed (in 1872) from the sluggish Panda to his more energetic son Cetewayo (pronounced "Ketshwayo"), whose ambitious spirit had revived the military organization and traditions of his uncle Tshaka. Cetewayo had been installed as king by a British official, and had lived ever since at peace with the Colony; but the powerful army which he possessed roused disquiet among the Natalians, and alarmed the then Governor of the Cape and High Commissioner for South Africa, Sir Bartle Frere. Differences had arisen between him and Cetewayo, and when the latter refused to submit to the demands which the High Commissioner addressed to him, including a requirement that he should disband his regiments and receive a British resident, war was declared against him. This act was justified at the time on the ground that the Zulu military power constituted a standing menace to Natal and to South Africa in general, and that the vast majority of the natives living in Natal itself might join the Zulu king were he to invade the colony. Whether this risk was sufficiently imminent to warrant such a step was then, and has been since, warmly debated in England. Most of those who have given impartial study to the subject, and have studied also the character and earlier career of the High Commissioner, are disposed to think that war might have been and ought to have been avoided, and that Sir Bartle Frere, in declaring it, committed a grave error; but it is right to add that there are persons in South Africa who still defend his action. The invasion of Zululand which followed began with a disaster—the surprise at Isandhlwana (January, 1879) of a British force, which was almost annihilated by a vastly superior native army. Ultimately, however, Cetewayo was defeated and made prisoner. Zululand was divided among thirteen petty chiefs under a British resident, and subsequently, in 1887, annexed to the British crown as a dependency, to be administered by the Governor of Natal. Except for some disturbances in 1888, its people have since remained peaceful, prosperous, and to all appearance contented. It has now (1897) been decided to annex Zululand to Natal.