On my way to the Karroo I had to pass through Somerset East, and it so
fell out that I fell in with a countryman from Edinburgh, who chanced to
be going to Somerset in the same "passenger-cart" with myself. His name
must have been a novelty once, though much of its freshness is worn off
now--it was Brown.
Our cart had a hood; the roads were very bad, and the behaviour of that
hood was stupendous! Its attachment to the cart was, so to speak,
partial; therefore it possessed a semi-independent motion which was
perplexing. You could not count on its actions. A sudden lurch of the
cart to right or left did, of course, carry the hood with it, and,
counting on that, you laid your sudden plans to avoid collision; but the
elasticity of the hood enabled it to give you a slap on the face before
obeying its proper impulse. So, too, it would come down on your head
unexpectedly, or, without the slightest provocation, would hit you on
the neck behind. I learned with painful certainty in that cart that I
had a "small" to my back! It seemed to me that it grew large before the
journey was over.
Brown was an intelligent man,--not an unusual state of things with the
"Browns." He had two pretty daughters with him, aged eight and twelve
respectively. We got on well together, and crossed the Zuurberg range
in company on the last day of the year.
It was over passes in this range that the settlers of 1820 went in long
trains of Cape wagons, with wives and little ones, and household goods,
and civilised implements of husbandry, and weapons of defence, with high
hopes and strong courage, and with their "lives in their hands," to
subdue the wilderness. It was from these heights that they looked over
the beautiful and bush-clad plains of "Albany," which lay before them as
the lot of their inheritance.
The breaking up and scattering of the various "parties" was most
eloquently and graphically told by the Reverend H.H. Dugmore in a
lecture delivered at Grahamstown, on the occasion of the "British
Settlers' Jubilee," in May 1870--fifty years after the arrival of the
"fathers." [See Note 1.] I quote one passage, which gives a good idea
of the manner in which the land was taken up.
"And now the Sunday's River is crossed, and the terrible old Ado Hill is
climbed, and Quaggas Flat is passed, and the Bushman's river heights are
scaled. The points of divergence are reached, and the long column
breaks into divisions. Baillie's party made their way to the mouth of
the Fish River, where, it was said, the `Head' had been allowed to
choose a territory, and where he hoped to realise imaginations of
commercial wealth by founding a seaport town. And the Duke of
Newcastle's proteges from Nottingham took possession of the beautiful
vale of Clumber, naming it in honour of their noble patron. And
Wilson's party settled between the plains of Waay-plaats and the Kowie
bush, right across the path of the elephants, some of which they tried
to shoot with fowling-pieces. And Sefton's party founded the village of
Salem, the religious importance of which to the early progress of the
settlement, is not to be estimated by its present size and population.
These four were the large parties. The smaller ones filled up the
intervening spaces between them. Behind the thicket-clad sandhills of
the Kowie and Green Fountain, and extending over the low plains beyond
Bathurst, were the locations of Cock's, Thornhill's, Ostler's, Smith's,
and Richardson's parties. Skirting the wooded Kloofs from Bathurst
towards the banks of the Klienemonden, were ranged the parties of James
and Hyman. It was the latter who gravely announced to Captain Trapps,
the Bathurst magistrate, the discovery of `precious stones' on his
location; and which the angry gentleman, jealous of the reserved rights
of Government, found, on further inquiry, were only `precious big ones!'
The rich valley of Lushington afforded a resting-place to Dyason's
party. Holder's people called their location New Bristol; which never,
however, acquired any resemblance to _Old_ Bristol. Passing on towards
the front, there were Mouncey's party, Hayhurst's party, Bradshaw's
party, Southey's party, stretching along the edge of the wide plains of
the Round Hill, and drinking their Western waters. The post of honour
and of danger was the line of the Kap River. This was occupied by the
party of Scott below Kafir Drift, and by the Irish party above it. The
forlorn hope of the entire settlement was Mahony's party at the clay
pits, who had to bear the first brunt of every Kafir depredation in the
Lower Albany direction. Names thicken as we proceed from Waay-plaats
towards Grahamstown. Passing Greathead's location, we come among the
men of Dalgairns at Blauw Krantz. Then those of Liversage about Manly's
Flats. John Stanley, `Head of all Parties,' as he styled himself,
belonged to the same neighbourhood. Turvey's party were in Grobblaar's
Kloof; William Smith's at Stony Vale, Dr Clarke's at Collingham.
Howard's, Morgan's, and Carlisle's, bring us by successive steps to the
neighbourhood of Grahamstown.
"My `reminiscences' are those of an Albany settler; but I do not forget
that there was another party, who, though locally separated from the
main body, occupied a position, the importance of which developed itself
in the after-history of the settlement. I refer to the Scotch party,
who were located on the Baviaans River, among mountains and glens that
have been rendered classic by the poetry of their leader and historic by
the gallant deeds and endurance of his compatriots in the
after-struggles of the frontier. I need make no particular reference,
however, to the early circumstances of that body of men, as in Pringle's
_African Sketches_ they have a most graphically-written history of their
own."
Thus, in 1820, was the land overrun and taken possession of by the
"British Settlers." It had once been the land of the Hottentots, but
had never at any time rightfully belonged to the Kafirs, who, after
wrongfully entering it and rendering themselves by their thievish
disposition and deceit an unbearable nuisance, were finally driven out
of it in 1819.
The idea of Government in sending the settlers out to occupy these
vacated lands was, that a convenient buffer might thus be placed on the
frontier of the colony to keep the savages in check. That these
settlers and their descendants received many a rude shock, and played
their part nobly, has been proved, and is admitted on all hands. That
they received less encouragement and help from those who induced them to
emigrate than might have been expected, is equally certain.
Brown and I chatted, more or less, of these things as we toiled up the
slopes of the Zuurberg, where the original settlers had toiled
fifty-five years before us, and in the afternoon came to a pretty good
inn, where a small misfortune befell us. While we were indulging in a
cup of tea, one of our horses escaped. We had crossed the mountain
range by that time, and the truant had a fine range of undulating
country to scamper over. That animal gave us some trouble, for,
although nearly a dozen men went, after him on horseback, he kept
dodging about actively with many flourishes of heels and tail during the
whole afternoon.
When one is in no hurry, and the weather is fine, a delay of this kind
is rather pleasant than otherwise. While men and boys were engaged in
the fruitless chase, I wandered off into the bush in the hope of
stumbling on a tortoise or a snake, or some other creature that I had
previously been accustomed to see in zoological collections, but the
reptiles kept close, and refused to show themselves. I came, however,
on a gigantic beehive; at least it resembled one in appearance, though
the smoke that issued from a hole in its top suggested humanity. There
was also a hole in one side partially covered by a rickety door. Close
beside it stood a little black creature which resembled a fat and
hairless monkey. It might have been a baboon. The astonished gaze and
grin with which it greeted me warranted such an assumption, but when it
suddenly turned and bolted through the hole into the beehive, I observed
that it had no tail--not even a vestige of such a creation,--and thus
discovered that it was a "Tottie," or Hottentot boy. The sublime, the
quaint, the miserable, the ridiculous, and the beautiful, were before me
in that scene. Let me expound these five "heads" in order.
On my left rose the woody slopes and crags of the Zuurberg, above whose
summits the white hills and towers and gorgeous battlements of
cloud-land rose into the bright blue sky. Around me were groups of
flowering mimosa bushes, with thorns from three to six inches long,
interspersed with which were curious aloes, whose weird leafy tops gave
them the aspect of shrubs growing upside down with their roots
scrambling aimlessly in the air. In front stood the native hut, the
wretchedness of whose outside was only equalled by the filth and
poverty-stricken aspect within. Near to this were several native
children, as black as coal, as impudent-looking as tom-tits, and as
lively as crickets. Beyond all lay the undulating plains studded with
flowering shrubs of varied form and hue, and bathed in golden sunshine.
There is something sad, ay, and something mysterious, to me in the
thought that such a lovely land had been, until so recently, the home of
the savage and the scene of his wicked and ruthless deeds.
On New Year's day I dined in a public restaurant in Somerset,--in a
strange land with strangers. But the strangers were not shy. Neither
was I. There were about a dozen of us at table, and before dinner was
half over we were as sociable as if we had been bosom friends from
infancy. We even got to the length of warm discussion, and I heard some
sentiments expressed regarding natives and "native policy," with which I
could not agree; but, being ignorant on the subject at the time, I stuck
to general principles. It seemed to me that some of the speakers must
have been born with their brains turned the wrong way. This idea
recalls to memory the curious fact that, during my first walk in
Somerset, I saw a mounted Hottentot policeman wearing his helmet with
the fore part to the back, because its rear peak was longer, and a
better sunshade, than the front.
The same tendency to sacrifice appearance to utility is observable among
the Malays of Capetown, who treat their sou'-westers similarly.
My first visit to a native church was on a Sunday,--the hottest Sunday I
ever spent. The congregation was entirely black and brown. _It_, also,
was hot, so that the church was by no means cool. Whatever depth, or
want of depth, there might have been in the Christianity of these
people, the garb and the bearing of civilisation were very obvious and
very pleasant to behold. Their behaviour was most orderly and modest,
though, probably, many of them had gone there to display their finery.
Taking my place near the pulpit I saw them to advantage. The church was
pretty full. I sat down beside a very stout Hottentot girl, whose dress
of showy chintz was as much a subject of interest to herself as of
indifference to the congregation. There were marvellous contrasts and
surprising harmonies displayed in that church, with not a few discords.
Childlike good-humour sat on every countenance. When Mr Green ascended
the pulpit eager expectancy gleamed in every jet-black eye. When the
psalm was given out the preparatory clearing of throats and consequent
opening of thick red lips and revelation of splendid rows of teeth all
over the church had quite a lighting-up effect on the scene. They sang
heartily and well of course,--all black people do so, I think. Just
opposite me sat a young man with a countenance so solemn that I felt
sure he had made up his mind to "be good," and get the full benefit of
the services. His black cheeks seemed to glisten with earnestness; his
thick lips pouted with devotional good-will. I do not write in
ridicule, but merely endeavour to convey my full meaning. He wore a
superfine black dress coat, a gaudy vest, and buff corduroy trousers so
short that they displayed to advantage his enormous bare feet. Beside
him was an elderly man with tweed trousers, a white shirt and brown
shooting coat, and a face not quite so solemn but very sedate. Some of
the men had boots, some had black silk hats, others wideawakes,--which
of course they removed on entering. It seemed to me that there was
among them every part and variety of costume from morning to evening
dress, but no individual could boast of being complete in himself.
As for the women, they were indescribable. Some of them wore little
more than a blanket, others were clothed in the height of European
fashion,--or something like it,--and all had evidently put on their
"Sunday's best." One stout and remarkably healthy young woman appeared
in a brilliant skirt, and an indescribable hat with ostrich feathers on
her woolly head. She sat herself down close beside me and went to sleep
at the beginning of the sermon--not out of irreverence, I am persuaded,
but from heat. In this state she continued swaying to and fro to the
end of the discourse, occasionally drooping, as though she meant to make
a pillow of my shoulder, which she would certainly have done, but for a
more modestly clad Hottentot girl at her other side, who, evidently
scandalised, kept poking at her continuously with her elbow. In justice
to the congregation I am bound to add, that I saw very few sleepers.
They were most attentive and earnest, despite the distracting elements
of a humorous kind that obtruded themselves.
Somerset East is a pretty town on the Little Fish River, at the foot of
the Boschberg mountains, which rise abruptly from the plain. It boasts
of banks, a newspaper, several churches, and the Gill College,--an
imposing edifice which was erected by private endowment. In regard to
its inhabitants, all I can say is, that the few members I had the
pleasure of meeting there during a three days' sojourn were exceedingly
hospitable and kind.
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Note 1. This deeply interesting lecture was published in Grahamstown as
a pamphlet, entitled, _The Reminiscences of an Albany Settler_.