THE BISHOP’S DEFENCE.
The daily accounts of the trial which appeared in the local papers
were read with great interest and attention by the Bishop, who
quickly discerned the injustice of the proceedings. Mawiza’s manifest
contradiction of his own evidence first attracted his attention, and
led to his hearing from some of his own natives what was not allowed
to appear at the trial, that Mawiza’s story was entirely false.
Seeing how seriously this fact bore upon the prisoner’s case, he went
to Mr. Shepstone and told him what he had heard.
The Secretary for Native Affairs was at first very indignant with
the Bishop’s informant, doubting the truth of his statement, and
declaring that the man must be severely punished if it were proved
that he had lied. The Bishop, confident in the integrity of his
native,[26] assented, saying, however, that the same argument should
apply to Mawiza. The matter was at once privately investigated by Mr.
Shepstone—the Bishop, Mawiza, Magema, and others being present—with
the result that Mr. Shepstone himself was obliged to acknowledge the
untrustworthiness of Mawiza, who was reproved in the severest terms
for his prevarications by the other native indunas.[27]
Singularly enough, however, _this discovery made no difference
whatever in the condemnation and sentence of the prisoner_, although
the charge thus, to a great extent, disposed of, was the most serious
of those brought against him.
But this was not all. Another point struck the Bishop very forcibly,
namely, the perpetual recurrence of one phrase from various
witnesses. “He (Langalibalele) was afraid, remembering what was
done to Matshana,” and “he was afraid that he should be treated as
Matshana was, when he was summoned to appear by Government.” Such
expressions, used in excuse of the Chiefs conduct, would, of course,
have been inquired into had the prisoner been allowed counsel, or
had any one watched the case on his behalf. But although the court
judged the excuse of “fear” to be an added fault on the Chiefs part,
and although perpetual allusions were made by witnesses to a specific
cause for this fear, no question was asked, and no notice taken
by those present of the perpetually recurring phrase. The Bishop,
however, in the interests of justice and truth, made inquiries
amongst his own natives as to the meaning of these allusions. He
knew, of course, in common with the rest of the inhabitants of Natal,
that, in the year 1858, a native chief named Matshana had got into
some trouble with the Government of Natal. A commando had gone out
against him, and, after a skirmish with some native troops under Mr.
John Shepstone, in which Mr. Shepstone was wounded, and some men on
the other side killed, he had escaped with his people into Zululand,
where he had lived ever since. The Bishop had never heard the details
of the affair, and knew of nothing in connection with this incident
which could account for the “fear because of what was done to
Matshana.”
“Can you tell me anything of the story of Matshana’s escape from
Natal?” was the question put by him at different times to different
natives; and everyone thus questioned gave substantially the
same account, of what was plainly among them a well-known, and
well-remembered incident in the history of the colony.
Matshana, they said, was accused of some offence, and being summoned
before the authorities to answer for it, had refused to appear. Mr.
John Shepstone, with a native force, of whom this very Langalibalele,
then a young chief, with his followers formed a portion, was sent
out to endeavour to reduce him to obedience. Mr. Shepstone invited
him to a friendly interview, in which they might talk over matters,
but to which Matshana’s men were to bring no weapons. In consequence
of the reluctance of Matshana to fulfil this condition, the proposed
interview fell through several times before it was finally arranged.
Matshana’s people, even then, however, brought their weapons with
them, but they were induced to leave them at a certain spot a short
distance off. The meeting took place; Mr. Shepstone being seated in
a chair with his people behind him, Matshana and his men crouched
native fashion upon the ground, suspicious and alert, in a semicircle
before him. Suddenly Mr. Shepstone drew a gun from beneath the rug
at his feet, and fired it (he says, as a signal), whereupon his men,
some of whom had already ridden between Matshana’s party and their
arms, fell on, and the struggle became general, resulting in the
death of many of Matshana’s people. The chief himself, who seems to
have been on the look-out for a surprise, escaped unhurt. He was
resting upon one knee only when the first shot was fired, and sprang
over the man crouching behind him. Another man, named Deke, who was
sitting close to him, was wounded in the knee, but is alive to this
day.
This story, which in varied form, but substantially as given above,
was generally known and believed by the natives, furnished a very
complete explanation of why Langalibalele ventured to distrust the
good faith and honour of the Government, having himself taken part
in, and been witness of, such a disgraceful transaction; which, when
it came to the knowledge of the Secretary of State, was emphatically
condemned by him. Remembering this circumstance, it is not wonderful
that Langalibalele should have taken the precaution of searching the
Government messengers for concealed weapons.
It seemed strange that Mr. Shepstone, sitting as judge upon the
bench to try a man for his life, should silently allow so great a
justification of his chief offence to remain concealed. But it
seemed stranger still to suppose him ignorant of any part of an
affair carried out under his authority, and by his own brother.
However, the Bishop took the matter privately to him in the first
instance, telling him what he had heard, and pointing out what an
important bearing it had upon the unfortunate prisoner’s case. He was
met by a total denial on Mr. Shepstone’s part that any such act of
treachery had ever taken place, or that there were any grounds for
the accusation.
Nevertheless, after careful consideration, and on thoroughly sifting
the obtainable evidence, the Bishop could not avoid coming to the
painful conclusion that the story was substantially true, and was a
valid excuse for Langalibalele’s fear. Finding that further appeal
on behalf of the prisoner to those on the spot was in vain, he now
wrote and printed a pamphlet (giving the usual native version that
the first shot fired was _at_ Matshana) on the subject for private
circulation, and especially for Lord Carnarvon’s information.[28]
One of the first results of the appearance of this pamphlet was
a demand on the part of Mr. J. Shepstone’s solicitor for “an
immediate, full, and unqualified retraction of the libel falsely and
maliciously published in the pamphlet, with a claim for £1000 damages
for the injury done to Mr. J. Shepstone by the same.”
Such an action would have had but a small chance of a decision upon
the Bishop’s side at that time in Natal, so, to defend himself—and
not, as generally supposed, out of enmity to the Shepstones—he
appealed to Lord Carnarvon in the matter, on the grounds that his
action had been taken for the public good, and in the interests of
justice.
Meanwhile the unfortunate chief and his eldest son Malambule
were sent to Robben Island, the former as a prisoner for life,
the latter for five years. They were secretly conveyed away from
Pietermaritzburg to the port, and every effort made to prevent the
Bishop from seeing them, or interfering on their behalf. Other sons,
two of them mere lads, who had as yet held no more important position
in the tribe than that of herdboys to their father’s cattle, and many
of the headmen and indunas, were condemned to imprisonment in the
gaol at Pietermaritzburg for terms varying in length from six months
to seven years. The two young sons, lads named Mazwi and Siyepu, were
kept prisoners for the shortest period named, six months; but it was
some little time after they left the gaol before they were really
set at liberty. The family at Bishopstowe, where their mothers and
many of their other relatives were located, were naturally anxious to
have the two boys also, and, as soon as their term of imprisonment
was up, applied for the charge of them. Somewhat to their surprise
all sorts of difficulties were raised on the point—one would have
thought a very simple one—and they were at last curtly informed
that the boys did not wish to go to Bishopstowe, and would remain
where they were, under surveillance in another district. The Bishop
himself was away at the time, but his eldest daughter, acting for
him, soon discovered through native sources that in point of fact the
boys were extremely anxious to go to Bishopstowe, but were in too
terrified a condition to express a wish. The question had been put to
them in this form: “So! you have been complaining! you say you want
to leave the place you have been sent to, and go to Bishopstowe?”
Whereupon the frightened lads, their spirits crushed by all that
had befallen them, naturally answered: “We never complained, nor
asked to go anywhere”—which, was perfectly true. By dint of a little
determination on the part of Miss Colenso, however, the desired
permission was at last obtained, and Mazwi and Siyepu entered the
Bishopstowe school, which had already been established for the boys
of the scattered tribe. Under the treatment which they there received
they soon began to recover from their distress, and to lose the
terrified expression in the eyes which characterised them painfully
at first. But the health of Mazwi, the elder, was broken by hardship
and confinement, and he died of consumption a few years after.[29]
It soon became apparent that there must be something specially
injurious to the prisoners in their life in gaol beyond the mere
fact of confinement. Nearly all the men of the Hlubi tribe left it
labouring under a dreadful complaint of a complicated form (said to
be some species of elephantiasis), of which a considerable number
died; others, as in Mazwi’s case, falling victims to consumption. On
inquiry it appeared that the fault lay in the _excessive washing_
to which every part of the building was habitually subjected—floors
and bed-boards being perpetually scrubbed, and therefore seldom
thoroughly dry. This state of things was naturally a trial to the
constitutions of people accustomed to life in the warm smoke-laden
atmosphere of a native hut. However beneficial it might be to the
natives to instruct them in habits of cleanliness,[30] this was
hardly the way to do it, and the results were disastrous. The
peculiar complaint resulting from confinement in the city gaol was
commonly known amongst the natives as the “gaol-disease,” but it
had not attracted the same attention while the victims to it were
occasional convicts, as it did when it attacked a large number of
innocent prisoners of war!
After the chief had been sent to Robben Island, it was represented,
by those interested in his welfare, that to leave him there for the
rest of his life without any of his family or people near him—except
his son Malambule, who was to be released in five years’ time—would
be a great and unnecessary addition to the hardship of his position;
and it was finally decided that one of his wives and a servant of
his own should be sent to join him in captivity. A few days after
this decision a story was circulated in the colony, causing some
amusement, and a little triumph on the part of the special opponents
of the chief and his cause: it was to the effect that “out of all
Langalibalele’s wives not one was willing to go to him,” and many
were the sarcastic comments made upon the want of family affection
thus evinced by the natives. On due inquiry it turned out that the
manner in which the question had been put to them was one highly
calculated to produce a negative answer. Native policemen, who were
sent to the kraals where they were living, to inquire which of them
would be willing to go, accosted them with “Come along! come along
and be killed with your chief!” which proposition was not unnaturally
looked upon with considerable disfavour. When, however, the matter
was properly explained to them, they all expressed their willingness
to go, although a journey across the (to them) great unknown
element was by no means a trifling matter in their eyes. The woman
selected in the first instance was one Nokwetuka, then resident at
Bishopstowe, where she was fitted out for her journey, and provided
with suitable clothes.[31] She joined her husband upon the island
as proposed, as also did a lad of the tribe Fife, who happened to
be residing (free) at the Cape, and obtained permission to attend
upon his chief. It was not until some time after, when Langalibalele
had been removed to an adjoining portion of the mainland, bleak and
barren indeed, but an improvement upon Robben Island, that two other
women and a little son were added to the party.[32]
For the son, Malambule, however, there was no possibility of making
any such arrangements during the five years of his captivity, as
he was a bachelor; although when he was captured he had a bride in
prospect, the separation from and probable loss of whom weighed
greatly upon his mind. He could not even learn whether she was yet
alive, as so many women had been killed, and others had died since
from the effects of the hardships they had undergone; while it was
more than probable, supposing her to be yet living, that she might be
given in marriage to some other more fortunate individual, either by
the authority of her relatives, or, as happened in another case, by
that of the Government of Natal.[33]
Towards the end of his imprisonment, Malambule grew very restless and
morose; and, when he found himself detained some time after the term
of years had elapsed, he became extremely indignant and difficult
to manage, being in fact in a far more “rebellious” frame of mind
than he ever was before. On one occasion he showed so much temper
that it was thought necessary to put him under temporary restraint
in the gaol. Apparently he was very wise in giving so much trouble,
for it was shortly found expedient to let him go, though it remains
unexplained why he should not have been set free immediately upon
the expiration of his sentence. He was sent back to Natal, but still
treated as a prisoner until he reached Pietermaritzburg, where he was
finally set at liberty; putting in a sudden and unexpected appearance
at Bishopstowe, where he was joyfully welcomed by his own people.
He did not, however, spend much time amongst them, but hurried off
as soon as possible up-country to find his bride. It is pleasant
to be able to record that he found her just in time to prevent
another marriage being arranged for her, and that his return was as
satisfactory an event to her as to himself.