DRESS AND ORNAMENTS -- DRESS OF THE MEN -- DRESS DEPENDENT ON COUNTRY
FOR MATERIAL -- SKIN THE CHIEF ARTICLE OF DRESS IN SOUTHERN AFRICA
-- FUR-PRODUCING ANIMALS -- A KAROSS OR CLOAK OF MEERKAT SKIN --
ANOTHER OF JACKAL SKINS -- NATIVE TASTE IN DRESS -- PROFESSIONAL
KAROSS MAKERS -- NEEDLE USED BY THE KAFFIRS -- ITS CLUMSY SHAPE AND
DIMENSIONS -- ITS LEATHER SHEATH -- A FASHIONABLE NEEDLE AND ITS BELT
OF BEADS -- TASTEFUL ARRANGEMENT OF COLOR -- THREAD USED BY KAFFIRS
-- SINGULAR MATERIAL AND MODE OF PREPARING IT -- HOW A KAFFIR SEWS
-- A MAN’S ORDINARY DRESS -- THE APRON OR “TAILS” -- SPECIMEN IN MY
COLLECTION -- BRASS BUTTONS -- THE “ISINENE” AND “UMUCHA” -- PORTRAIT
OF GOZA -- OBESITY OF THE CHIEFS -- FULL DRESS AND UNDRESS -- A
KAFFIR AIDE-DE-CAMP.
Having now described the general appearance of the Kaffirs from
childhood to age, we will proceed to the costume which they wear,
and the ornaments with which they decorate their dark persons. The
material of which dress is made depends much on the characteristics
of the country. In some parts of the world linen is used, in another
silk, and in another cotton. In Southern Africa, however, and indeed
throughout a very large portion of the continent, the dress, whether of
men or women, is composed of the skins and furs of animals. The country
abounds in game, especially of the antelope tribe; and the antelopes,
the zebras and their kin, the beasts of prey, the monkey tribes and the
oxen, afford a vast store from which the Kaffir can take his clothing,
and vary it almost without bounds.
The Kaffir is an admirable dresser of furs. He bestows very great pains
on the process, and arrives at a result which cannot be surpassed by
the best of European furriers, with all his means and appliances.
Kaffir furs, even those made from the stiff and stubborn hide of the
ox, are as soft and pliable as silk; and if they be wetted, they will
dry without becoming harsh and stiff. For large and thick skins a
peculiar process is required. The skin of the cow, for example, will
become as hard as a board when dry, and even that of the lion is apt to
be very stiff indeed when dried. The process of preparing such skins is
almost absurdly simple and expeditious, while its efficacy is such that
our best fur-dressers cannot produce such articles as the Kaffirs do.
Supposing that a cow-skin is to be made into a robe, the Kaffir will
ask two or three of his comrades to help him. They all sit round the
skin, and scrape it very carefully, until they have removed every
particle of fat, and have also reduced the thickness. They then stretch
it in every direction, pulling against each other with all their might,
working it over their knees, and taking care that not an inch of it
shall escape without thorough manipulation. Of course they talk, and
sing, and smoke, and take snuff while performing the task, which is to
them a labor of love. If, indeed, it were not, they would not perform
it, but hand it over to their wives. When they have kneaded it as much
as they think necessary, they proceed to another operation. They take
eight or ten of their skewer-like needles, and tie them together in a
bundle, each man being furnished with one of these bundles. The points
are then placed perpendicularly upon the skin, and the bundle made to
revolve backward and forward between the hands. This process tears up
the fibres of the skin, and adds to its pliancy, besides raising a
sort of nap, which in some of their dresses is so thick and fine as to
resemble plush.
Sometimes, when needles are scarce, the long straight thorns of the
acacia are tied together, and used in a similar manner. Although not
so strong, their natural points are quite as sharp as the artificial
points made of iron, and do their work as effectually. Some of my
readers may remember that the nap on cloth is raised by a method
exactly similar in principle, the thorny seed-vessels of the teasle
thistle being fastened on cylinders and made to revolve quickly over
the surface of the cloth, so as to raise a “nap” which conceals the
course of the threads. These acacia thorns are used for a wonderful
variety of purposes, and are even pressed into the service of personal
vanity, being used as decorations for the hair on festive occasions.
The skin is now ready for the ingredient that forms a succedaneum for
the tanpit, and that does its work in a very short time. As the reader
is perhaps aware, the acacia is one of the commonest trees in Southern
Africa. The sap of the tree is of a very astringent character, and
communicates its properties to the bark through which it percolates. In
consequence, the white inhabitants of Southern Africa are in the habit
of using the bark of the acacia just as in England we use the bark of
the oak, and find that it produces a similar effect upon skins that
are soaked in a strong solution of acacia bark in water. The native,
however, does not use the bark for this purpose, neither does he
practise the long and tedious process of tanning which is in use among
ourselves. The acacia tree supplies for him a material which answers
all the purposes of a tanpit, and does not require above a fraction of
the time that is employed in ordinary tanning.
The acacia trees are constantly felled for all sorts of purposes. The
hard wood is used in native architecture, in making the fence round
a kraal, in making wagon poles, and in many similar modes. The root
and stump are left to rot in the ground, and, thanks to the peculiar
climate and the attacks of insects, they soon rot away, and can be
crumbled with the fingers into a reddish yellow powder. This powder is
highly astringent, and is used by the Kaffirs for dressing their furs,
and is applied by assiduous rubbing in with the hand. Afterward, a
little grease is added, but not much, and this is also rubbed in very
carefully with the hand.
A large kaross is always worn with the furry side inward, and there
is a mode of putting it on which is considered highly fashionable. If
the robe is composed of several skins,--say, for example, those of
the jackal or leopard,--the heads are placed in a row along the upper
margin. When the Kaffir indues his kaross, he folds this edge over
so as to form a kind of cape, and puts it on in such a way that the
fur-clad heads fall in a row over his shoulders.
The rapidity with which a Kaffir will prepare a small skin is really
surprising. One of my friends was travelling in Southern Africa, and
saw a jackal cantering along, looking out for food. Presently, he
came across the scent of some steaks that were being cooked, and came
straight toward the wagon, thinking only of food, and heedless of
danger. One of the Kaffirs in attendance on the wagon saw the animal,
picked up a large stone, and awaited his coming. As he was nearing the
fire, the Kaffir flung the stone with such a good aim that the animal
was knocked over and stunned. The wagon started in an hour and a half
from that time, and the Kaffir who killed the jackal was seen wearing
the animal’s dressed skin. The skin of this creature is very much
prized for robes and similar purposes, as it is thick and soft, and the
rich black mottlings along the back give to the robe a very handsome
appearance.
I have before me a beautiful example of a kaross or cloak, made from
the skins of the meerkat, one of the South African ichneumons. It is a
pretty creature, the coat being soft and full, and the general color a
reddish tawny, variegated in some specimens by dark mottlings along the
back, and fading off into gray along the flanks. The kaross consists
of thirty-six skins, which are sewed together as neatly as any furrier
could sew them. The meerkat, being very tenacious of life, does not
succumb easily, and accordingly there is scarcely a skin which has not
been pierced in one or more places by the spear, in some instances
leaving holes through which a man’s finger could easily be passed. In
one skin there are five holes, two of them of considerable size. Yet,
when the kaross is viewed upon the hairy side, not a sign of a hole
is visible. With singular skill, the Kaffir fur-dresser has “let in”
circular pieces of skin cut from another animal, and done it so well
that no one would suspect that there had been any injury to the skin.
The care taken in choosing the color is very remarkable, because the
fur of the meerkat is extremely variable in color, and it must have
been necessary to compare a considerable number of skins, in order to
find one that was of exactly the right shade.
The mantle in question is wonderfully light, so light, indeed, that no
one would think it capable of imparting much warmth until he has tried
it. I always use it in journeys in cold weather, finding that it can
be packed in much less space than an ordinary railway rug, that it is
lighter to carry, and is warmer and more comfortable.
Although every Kaffir has some knowledge of skin-dressing and
tailoring, there are some who greatly surpass their companions, and
are popularly known as “kaross makers.” It is easy to tell at a glance
whether a garment is the work of an ordinary Kaffir, or of a regular
kaross maker. The kaross which has been noticed affords a good example
of both styles, which can be distinguished as easily by the touch as by
the sight.
When a kaross maker sets to work, he takes the two pieces of the fur
which he has to join, and places them together with the hairy side
inward, and the edges exactly matching each other. He then repeatedly
passes his long needle between the two pieces, so as to press the hair
downward, and prevent it from being caught in the thread. He then bores
a few holes in a line with each other, and passes the sinew fibre
through them, casting a single hitch over each hole, but leaving the
thread loose. When he has made two or three such holes, and passed the
thread through them, he draws them tight in regular succession, so that
he produces a sort of lock-stitch, and his work will not become loose,
even though it may be cut repeatedly. Finally, he rubs down the seam,
and, when properly done, the two edges lie as flat as if they were one
single piece of skin.
In the kaross before mentioned, the original maker was not one of the
professed tailors, but thought that he could do all the plain sewing
himself. Accordingly, the seams which connect the various skills
are rather rudely done, being merely sewed over and over, and are
in consequence raised above the level of the skins. But the various
patches that were required in order to complete the garment in its
integrity needed much more careful work, and this portion of the work
has been therefore intrusted to one of the professed kaross makers.
The difference of the seams is at once apparent, those made by the
unskilled workman being raised, harsh, and stiff; while those made by
the professional are quite flat, and look exactly like the well-known
lock-stitch of our sewing machines.
A singularly handsome specimen of a kaross is now before me. It is made
of the skins of the gray jackal, and, although not so attractive to
European eyes as if it had been made from the skin of the black-backed
jackal, is, in a Kaffir’s estimation, a far more valuable article,
inasmuch as the gray species is much rarer than the black-backed.
The man who designed this kaross may fairly be entitled to the name
of artist. It is five feet three inches in depth, and very nearly six
feet in width, and therefore a considerable number of skins have been
used in making it. But the skins have not merely been squared and then
sewed together, the manufacturer having in his mind a very bold design.
Most persons are aware, that in the majority of animals, the jackal
included, the skin is darkest along the back, a very dark stripe runs
along the spine, and that the fur fades into whitish gray upon the
flanks and under the belly. The kaross maker has started with the idea
of forming the cloak on the same principle, and making it look as if
it were composed of one large skin. Accordingly, he has selected the
darkest skins for the centre of the kaross, and arranged them so that
they fade away into gray at the edges. This is done, not by merely
putting the darker skins in the middle, and the lighter toward the
edges, but by cutting the skins into oblong pieces of nearly the same
size, and sewing them together so neatly that the lines of junction are
quite invisible. All the heads are set in a row along the upper edges,
and, being worked very flat, can be turned over, and form a kind of
cape, as has already been mentioned. The lower edge of the kaross has a
very handsome appearance, the gray color of the fur rapidly deepening
into black, which makes a broad stripe some four inches in depth. This
is obtained by taking the skin of the paws, which are very black, and
sewing them to the cape of the mantle.
Of course, a Kaffir has no knowledge of gloves, but there are seasons
when he really wants some covering for his hands. A creature of the
sun, he cannot endure cold; and in weather when the white men are
walking in their lightest clothing and exulting in the unaccustomed
coolness, the Kaffir is wrapped in his thickest kaross, cowering over
the fire, and absolutely paralyzed, both bodily and mentally, with
the cold. He therefore makes certain additions to his kaross, and so
forms a kind of shelter for the hands. About two feet from the top
of the kaross, and on the outer edges, are a pair of small wings or
projections, about a foot in length, and eight inches in width. When
the Kaffir puts on the kaross, he doubles the upper part to form the
cape, turns the furry side within, grasps one of these winglets with
each hand, and then wraps it round his shoulders. The hands are thus
protected from the cold, and the upper part of the body is completely
covered. The kaross descends as far as the knees in front, and is
about a foot longer at the sides and at the back. The whole edge of
the kaross is bound on the inside with a narrow band of thin, but very
strong membrane, and is thus rendered less liable to be torn. The
membrane is obtained as follows. A skin of some animal, usually one of
the antelopes, is rolled up and buried in the ground until a certain
amount of putrefaction takes place. It is then removed, and the Kaffir
splits it by introducing his knife, and then, with a quick jerk, strips
off the membranous skin. If it does not separate easily, the skin is
replaced in the ground, and left for a day or two longer.
This fine specimen was brought from Southern Africa by Mr. Christie,
who has had it in constant use as a railway rug and for similar
purposes for some fourteen years, and it is still as serviceable as
ever. I ought to mention that both this and my own kaross were made
by Bechuanas, and not by Zulus, the latter tribe always using for
their kaross a single hide of an ox dressed soft. The peculiar mode
of manipulating a hide when dressing it is called “braying,” perhaps
because it bears some resemblance to the “braying” or rubbing of a
substance in a mortar, as distinguished from pounding it. A handful of
the hide is taken in each hand and gathered up, so as to form two or
three wrinkles on the fleshy side. The wrinkles are then rubbed on each
other, with a peculiar twisting movement, which is almost identical
with that of the gizzard in grain-eating birds.
Of similar skins the Kaffir makes a kind of bag in which he puts his
pipe, tobacco, and various other little comforts. This bag, which
is popularly called a knapsack, deserves more rightly the name of
haversack, as it is not carried on the back, but slung to the side. It
is made of the skin of some small animal, such as a hare or a hyrax,
and is formed in a very simple manner. When the Kaffir has killed the
animal, he strips off the skin by making a cut, not along the belly, as
is the usual fashion, but from one hind leg to the other. By dint of
pushing and pulling, he contrives to strip off the skin, and of course
turns it inside out in so doing, much as is the case when a taxidermist
skins a snake or frog. The skin is then “brayed” in the ordinary
fashion, while the furry side is inward; and when this operation is
completed, the mouth, ears and eyelids are sewed up, and it is then
reversed so as to bring the fur outward. Straps are attached to the
two hind legs, so that the wearer can sling the bag over his shoulder.
The natives put these bags to all kinds of uses, some of them being
rather odd according to our ideas. It has been mentioned that the pipe,
tobacco, and other little articles which a Kaffir has, are kept in the
bag. If, perchance, the wearer should discover a bees’ nest, he empties
his “knapsack,” turns it inside out, shakes it well in order to get
rid of the scraps of tobacco and other debris of a Kaffir’s pouch, and
then proceeds to attack the bees. When he has succeeded in reaching the
honeycombs, he removes them from the nest, puts them into the bag, and
goes off with his prize, regardless of the state in which the interior
of the bag will be left.
The skill of the Kaffir in sewing fur is the more notable when we take
into consideration the peculiar needle and thread which he uses. The
needle is not in the least like the delicate, slender articles employed
by European seamstresses. In the first place, it has no eye; and in the
second, it is more like a skewer than a needle. If any of my classical
readers will recall to their minds the “stylus” which the ancients used
instead of a pen, he will have a very good idea of a Kaffir’s needle.
As the Kaffir likes to carry his needle about with him, he makes a
sheath or case of leather. There is great variety in these cases. The
simplest are merely made of strips of hide rolled round the needle, and
sewed together at the edges.
The most ornamental needle that I have seen was brought to England
by the late H. Jackson, Esq., who kindly placed it and the rest of
his valuable collection at my disposal. This needle is represented at
fig. 1, in the illustration “Kaffir needles,” page 33. It is of the
ordinary shape, though much larger than most that are used; but it is
upon the sheath and its ornaments that the proud owner has lavished his
powers. The sheath is made of leather, but is modelled into a curious
pattern, which may be easily imitated. Roll up a tube of paper, about
the third of an inch in diameter. At an inch from the end, pinch it
tightly between the right thumb and finger, until it is squeezed flat.
Still retaining the grasp, pinch it with the left hand just below the
finger and thumb of the right, and at right angles to them. Proceed in
this manner until the whole of it has been pinched. Then, if we suppose
that the tube is made of raw hide thoroughly wetted, that a well oiled
needle is placed in it, and that the leather is worked carefully
upon the needle so as to make a sheath, ornamented with flattened
projections at right angles to each other, we shall see how the sheath
is made.
The siring of beads by which it is hung around the neck is put together
with great taste. The pale-tinted beads are white with rings of
scarlet, and the others are blue with large spots of white, the whole
forming a very artistic contrast with the skin of the wearer. The best
point of this needle case is, however, the ornament which hangs to it
just by the head of the needle. This is a piece of rhinoceros horn,
cut into the shape of a buffalo head and part of the neck--very much,
indeed, as if it had been intended for the handle of a seal. The skill
with which the artist--for he really deserves the name--has manipulated
this stubborn substance is really admirable. The sweep of the animal’s
horns is hit off with a boldness of line and a freedom of execution
that would scarcely be expected from a savage. That he should make an
accurate representation of the animal was likely enough, considering
his familiarity with the subject, but that he should be able to carve
with his assagai-blade so artistic a design could hardly have been
expected from him.
By the side of this needle hangs another, which I have introduced
because the sheath, instead of being made of leather, is a wooden tube,
closed at one end, and guarded at both ends by a thong of raw hide
rolled round it.
As the Kaffirs employ needles of this description, it is evident that
they cannot use the same kind of thread as ourselves, since a cotton
thread would not make its way through the leather, and therefore the
Kaffir has recourse to the animal kingdom for his thread as well as for
his garments. The thread is made of the sinews of various animals, the
best being made of the sinews taken from the neck of a giraffe. One of
these bundles of thread is now before me, and a curious article it
is--stiff, angular, elastic, and with an invincible tendency to become
entangled among the other objects of the collection. Few persons to
whom it is shown for the first time will believe that it is thread, and
mostly fancy that I am trying to take advantage of their ignorance.
When this strange thread is wanted for use, it is steeped in hot
water until it is quite soft, and is then beaten between two smooth
stones. This process causes it to separate into filaments, which can
be obtained of almost any degree of strength or fineness. The sinew
thus furnishes a thread of astonishing strength when compared with its
diameter, surpassing even the silk grass of Guiana in that respect.
When a Kaffir wishes to sew, he prepares some of this thread, squats
on the ground, takes his needle, and bores two little holes in the
edges of the garment on which he is working. He then pushes the thread
through the holes thus made, and makes two more holes opposite each
other. He continues to draw the stitches tight as he proceeds, and
thus gets on with his work at a rate which would certainly not pay a
seamstress in this country, but which is very well suited to Africa,
where time is not of the least value. As he works with wet sinew upon
wet hide, it naturally follows that, in the process of drying, the
seams become enormously strengthened, the stitches being drawn tightly
by the contraction of sinew, and the contraction of the hide forcing
the stitches deeply into its own substance, and almost blending them
together. So, although the work is done very slowly, one of our sewing
machines being equal to a hundred Kaffirs, or thereabouts, in point of
speed, it is done with a degree of efficacy that no machine can ever
approach. I have in my collection very many examples of Kaffir sewing,
and in every instance the firmness and solidity of the workmanship are
admirable. Their fur-sewing is really wonderful, for they use very
close stitches, very fine thread, and join the pieces so perfectly that
the set of the hairs is not disturbed, and a number of pieces will look
and feel exactly as if they were one single skin.
We will begin an account of Kaffir dress with the ordinary costume
of a man. Until he approaches manhood, the Kaffir does not trouble
himself about so superfluous a luxury as dress. He may wear beads and
ornaments, but he is not troubled with dress in our acceptation of the
word. When he becomes a man, however, he assumes the peculiar apron
which may be seen by reference to any of the illustrations of Kaffir
men. This garment is intended to represent the tails of animals, and
by Europeans is generally called by that name. Thus, instead of saying
that a man has put on his dress or his apron, he is said to have put
on his “tails.” It is notable, by the way, that this form of dress
extends over a considerable part of Africa, and is common to both
sexes, though the details are carried out in a different manner. The
principal is a belt round the waist, with a number of thongs depending
from it, and we find this characteristic dress as far northward as
Egypt. Indeed, strings or thongs form a considerable portion, not only
of a Kaffir’s dress, but of his ornaments, as will be seen presently.
The apron of the men is called “isinene,” and is conventionally
supposed to be made of the tails of slain leopards, lions, or
buffaloes, and to be a trophy of the wearer’s courage as well as a mark
of his taste in dress. Such a costume is sometimes, though very rarely,
seen; there being but few Kaffirs who have killed enough of these
ferocious beasts to make the “isinene” of their tails. I have one which
was presented to me by Captain Drayson, R.A., who bought it, together
with many other objects, after the late Kaffir war. It is represented
by fig. 1 in the illustration of “Costume” on page 33. It is made of
strips of monkey skin, each about an inch and a half in width. These
strips have been snipped half through on either side alternately, and
then twisted so as to make furry cylinders, having the hair on the
outside, and being fixed in that position until dry and tolerably
stiff. There are fourteen of these strips, each being about fourteen
inches long, but those in the middle exceeding the others by an inch or
two.
The strips or “tails” are gathered together above, and sewed firmly
to a broad belt of the same material, which is so covered with red
and white beads that the leather cannot be seen. Across the belt are
two rows of conical brass buttons, exactly identical with those that
decorate the jacket of the modern “page.” These brass buttons seem to
charm a Kaffir’s heart. He cannot have too many of them, and it is
his delight and pride to keep them burnished to the highest amount of
polish which brass will take. I have various specimens of dress or
ornament formerly belonging to Kaffirs of both sexes, and, in almost
every instance where the article has been very carefully made, at least
one brass button is attached to it.
[Illustration: KAFFIR ORNAMENTS. (See pages 36, 37, 46, 52.)]
[Illustration: KAFFIR NEEDLES & SHEATHS. (See p. 31.)]
[Illustration: ARTICLES OF KAFFIR COSTUME. (See pages 32, 51.)]
[Illustration: DOLLS. (See pages 32, 52.)]
As long as the Kaffir stands or sits, the “isinene” hangs rather
gracefully, and reminds the spectator of the sporran or skin pouch,
which forms part of the Highlander’s dress. But when he runs,
especially when he is rushing at full speed, the tails fly about in all
directions, and have a most ludicrous effect, almost as if a bundle of
living eels or snakes had been tied round the man’s waist. If a Kaffir
should be too lazy to take the trouble of making so elaborate a set
of “tails,” he merely cuts his “isinene” out of a piece of skin. An
example of this kind of apron is seen in the illustration, “Dolls,” 33d
page, which represents a pair of figures, a Kaffir and his wife, made
by the natives out of leather. Here the male figure, on the right, is
shown as wearing the isinene, and having besides a short kaross, or
cloak, over his shoulders. These figures are in my own collection, and
will be more particularly described when we come to the dress of Kaffir
females.
Most of the men wear a similar duplicate of this apron, which falls
behind, and corresponds with the isinene; this second apron is called
the “umucha,” and is mostly made of one piece of skin. Its use is not,
however, universal, and indeed, when in his own kraal or village, the
Kaffir does not trouble himself about either isinene or umucha, and
considers himself quite sufficiently clothed with a necklace and a
snuff box.
An illustration on page 117, gives a good idea of the appearance
presented by a Kaffir of rank in his ordinary dress. It is a portrait
of Goza, the well-known Zulu chief, whose name came prominently forward
during the visit of Prince Albert to the Cape. He is one of the most
powerful chiefs of the Zulu tribe, and can at any moment summon into
the field his five or six thousand trained and armed warriors. Yet
in ordinary life he is not to be distinguished from the meanest of
his subjects by any distinction of dress. An experienced eye would,
however, detect his rank at a single glance, even though he were not
even clad in his “tails.” He is fat, and none but chiefs are fat in
Kaffirland. In fact, none but chiefs have the opportunity, because
the inferior men are forced to such constantly active employment, and
live on such irregular nourishment, that they have no opportunity of
accumulating fat.
But a chief has nothing whatever to do, except to give his orders,
and if those orders are within human capacity they will be executed.
Tchaka once ordered his warriors to catch a lion with their unarmed
hands, and they did it, losing, of course, many of their number in the
exploit. The chief can eat beef and porridge all day long if he likes,
and he mostly does like. Also, he can drink as much beer as he chooses,
and always has a large vessel at hand full of that beverage. Panda,
the king of the Zulu tribes, was notable for being so fat that he
could hardly waddle; but, as the reader will soon be presented with a
portrait of this doubly great monarch, nothing more need be said about
him.
As to Goza, he is a wealthy man, possessing vast herds of cattle,
besides a great number of wives, who, as far as can be judged by their
portraits, are not beautiful according to European ideas of beauty, but
are each representatives of a considerable number of cows. He wields
undisputed sway over many thousands of subjects, and takes tribute
from them. Yet he dresses on ordinary occasions like one of his own
subjects, and his house is just one of the ordinary huts of which a
village is composed. When he wishes to appear officially, he alters his
style of dress, and makes really a splendid appearance in all the pomp
of barbaric magnificence. Also, when he mixes with civilization, he
likes to be civilized in dress, and makes his appearance dressed as an
Englishman, in a silk hat, a scarlet coat, and jackboots, and attended
in his rides by an aide-de-camp, dressed in a white-plumed cocked hat,
and nothing else.
A portrait of Goza in his full war-dress is given in the chapter that
treats of Kaffir warfare.