THE BATTLES WITH THE ZULUS.
1879.
Says a writer in “Blackwood’s Magazine,” in March, 1879:--“To break
the military power of the Zulu nation, to save our colonies from
apprehensions which have been paralysing all efforts at advancement,
and to transform the Zulus from the slaves of a despot who has shown
himself both tyrannical and cruel, and as reckless of the lives as of
the rights of his subjects ... is the task which has devolved upon
us in South Africa, and to perform which our troops have crossed the
Tugela.”
Such causes enumerated above would appear to the unprejudiced observer
to be more than sufficient _raison d’être_ for the British invasion of
Zululand, but when one takes into account the unimpeachable statements
of those long resident in the adjacent colony of Natal, one cannot help
believing them to be a direct, if not wilful, misrepresentation of the
facts.
The kingdom of Zululand in 1873 lay, as all are aware, between the
British colony of Natal on the south and the Transvaal Republic on
the north. Now, while the Natal border had always been in a state of
quiet and peacefulness, and the nearer settlers were on friendly terms
with their Zulu neighbours, the northern border of the kingdom was in
a constant state of unrest. For one thing, the Transvaal Boers were,
upon one pretext and another, constantly encroaching in a southerly
direction on the confines of Zululand; for another, they were in the
habit of treating the Zulus and other tribes with an unpardonable
severity.
The accusations brought above against Cetewayo, King of Zululand,
appear also to have been largely unfounded. He was crowned, at his own
request, by the British Commissioner, on the 8th August, 1873, and had
ruled his people well and in a fairly enlightened manner, though it
is true he observed many barbarous native customs in the punishment
of Zulu offenders. He may, however, be declared to be a competent and
capable native ruler.
Zululand being at this time under British protection, though ruled by
Cetewayo, the Zulus were not permitted to resent the intrusions of the
Boers upon their borders by a recourse to arms. When, however, on April
17, 1877, Great Britain, in the person of Sir Theophilus Shepstone,
annexed the Transvaal Republic, on the ground of its mismanagement,
incapability, and gross ill-treatment of the native races by slavery
and other means, it was felt by Cetewayo that the time had at last
come when the question of his disturbed border would be satisfactorily
adjusted.
The Transvaal Boers were “paralysed” when the edict of annexation was
read to them, and strong protests were issued to the British Government
against this high-handed proceeding. Accordingly every effort was made
to conciliate the Boers until such time as they should have settled
down under the new regime, almost the first of these concessions taking
the form of an anti-Zulu view of the border question. Upon this
question of the Transvaal-Zulu border, the whole matter of the war now
turned.
As late as 1876 the Zulu people begged that the Governor of Natal “will
take a strip of the country, the length and breadth of which is to be
agreed upon between the Zulus and the Commissioners (for whom they
ask) sent from Natal, the strip to abut on the colony of Natal and to
run to the northward and eastward in such a manner as to interpose all
its length between the Boers and the Zulus, and to be governed by the
colony of Natal.”
Such a Commission was appointed, and, on December 11th, 1878, the
boundary award was delivered to the Zulus at the Lower Tugela Drift. It
was, on the whole, favourable to the Zulus, but so fenced about with
warnings and restrictions as to be virtually negative in tone, and, in
fact, many have asserted that by this time the British Government had
made up its mind to the annexation of Zululand. In any event, the award
was followed up with an ultimatum from Sir Bartle Frere, containing
thirteen specific demands. One of these entailed the “disbanding of the
Zulu army, and the discontinuance of the Zulu military system.”
By this time a considerable British force was present in Natal to
protect the interests of the colony, and as a “means of defending
whatever the British Government finds to be its unquestionable rights.”
The reasons given for the issue of the ultimatum were three in
particular. The first had reference to the affair of Sihayo. On July
28, 1878, a wife of the chief Sihayo, an under-chief of Cetewayo’s,
had left her husband and escaped into Natal. Hither she was followed
by Sihayo’s two chief sons and brother, conveyed back to Zululand, and
there put to death in accordance with the native custom for such an
offence. These culprits the Natal Government now demanded should be
given up to be tried in the Natal courts. Cetewayo, however, did not
regard the offence as a serious one, and offered money compensation in
place of the surrender of the young men, “looking upon the whole affair
as the act of rash boys, who, in their zeal for their father’s honour,
did not think what they were doing.”
The demand for the person of the Swazi chief, Umbilini, formed the
second point. This chief, a Swazi, was not under the jurisdiction of
Cetewayo, and though he was charged, and had been frequently convicted
of raiding, Cetewayo was in no way responsible for his acts, otherwise
than as an over-lord.
The temporary detention of two Englishmen, Messrs. Smith and Deighton,
formed the third especial grievance, and for these several offences
large fines in the way of cattle were demanded in the ultimatum. Says
Miss Colenso, daughter of the then Bishop of Natal, and historian of
the war:--
“The High Commissioner (Sir Bartle Frere) was plainly determined not
to allow the Zulus the slightest “law,” which, indeed, was wise in the
interests of war, as there was considerable fear that, in spite of all
grievances and vexations, Cetewayo, knowing full well, as he certainly
did, that collision with the British must eventually result in his
destruction, might prefer half a loaf to no bread, and submit to our
exactions with what grace he could. And so probably he would; for from
all accounts every effort was made by the king to collect the fines of
cattle and propitiate the Government.”
Such efforts were, however, unavailing, owing to the shortness of time
allowed for collecting the cattle, and no extension of the period was
granted. Moreover, in the natural agitation caused among the Zulus by
the grave turn events were taking, any concentration of troops on the
other side of the border was construed into an intention on the part of
the Zulu king to attack Natal, and urged as an additional reason for
our beginning hostilities.
On the 11th January, 1879, the allotted period having expired, war was
declared.
“The British forces,” ran the document, “are crossing into Zululand
to exact from Cetewayo reparation for violations of British territory
committed by the sons of Sihayo and others,” and to enforce better
government of his people. “All who lay down their arms will be provided
for, ... and when the war is finished the British Government will make
the best arrangements in its power for the future good government of
the Zulus.”
On the 4th inst., Lieutenant-General Lord Chelmsford, who had
been resident in the colony since August, ’78, was appointed
commander-in-chief of Her Majesty’s forces in South Africa.
Ulundi was to be the objective of the campaign, the British force to
be divided into four columns, which should enter Zululand at four
different points, and concentrated on Ulundi.
No. 1 Column, under Colonel Pearson, was to assemble on the Lower
Tugela at Fort Pearson. It consisted of a company of the Royal
Engineers, 2nd Battalion of the Buffs, 99th regiment, naval brigade
with two guns and one gatling, one squadron of mounted infantry, about
200 Natal volunteers, two battalions of the 2nd regiment Natal native
contingent, one company of Natal native pioneers, and a detachment of
Royal Artillery.
No. 2 Column was to co-operate with No. 1. Colonel Dumford was in
command, and the corps was composed almost entirely of natives; the
Natal native horse, 315 in number, the Natal native contingent and
pioneers, and three battalions of the 1st regiment, with a rocket
battery composed it.
Colonel Glyn commanded the 3rd Column, and Rorke’s Drift was the point
selected for the crossing of this body of troops. It consisted of six
guns of the Royal Artillery, one squadron of mounted infantry, the
24th regiment, 200 Natal volunteers, 150 mounted police, the second
battalion of the 3rd regiment, with pioneers, native contingent, and a
company of Royal Engineers.
No. 4 Column, under Colonel (afterwards Sir Evelyn) Wood, V.C., was
to advance on the Blood River. Its strength was made up of Royal
Artillery, the 13th regiment, 90th regiment, frontier light horse, and
200 of the native contingent.
In addition to the four columns, a fifth, under Colonel Rowlands,
composed of the 80th regiment and mounted irregulars, was available.
The total fighting force numbered some 7000 British and 9000 native
troops--16,000 in all, with drivers. The Zulu army was estimated at not
less than 40,000 strong.
Probably no campaign has ever opened so disastrously for British arms
as that which was undertaken against Cetewayo in January, 1879. At
first sight, all appeared easy enough. Preparations were made upon a
complete scale. Both transport and means of communication were regarded
as highly satisfactory, and the first movements were conducted with
success, and the two centre columns, Nos. 2 and 3, crossed the Tugela
in safety, and effected their proposed junction in front of Rorke’s
Drift. Many cattle and sheep were captured in these first skirmishes of
the campaign, and some few Zulus were killed with but slight loss on
the British side.
On the morning of the 22nd January information came to hand of the
presence of a large Zulu army in front of the two centre columns,
and Lord Chelmsford himself, with the greater portion of his force,
advanced to clear the way. A force consisting of five companies of the
1st battalion 24th regiment, a company of the 2nd battalion, with two
guns, 104 mounted colonials, and 800 natives were left to guard the
camp at Isandhlwana, which contained a valuable convoy of supplies.
It was 1.30 a.m. or thereabouts when the advance columns with Lord
Chelmsford left camp, coming first into contact with the enemy at about
five miles distant. Till about 8 a.m. nothing happened in camp worthy
of notice. About this time, however, detachments of Zulus were noticed
coming in from the north-east, and immediately the force got under arms.
Slowly the Zulus began to work round to the rear of the British camp,
and very shortly the 24th regiment found themselves surrounded. At this
point the camp followers and native troops fled as best they could,
the Zulus killing with the assegai all they could lay hands on. In a
little while the British were entirely overwhelmed.
Says Miss Colenso:--“After this period (1.30 p.m.) no one living
escaped from Isandhlwana, and it is supposed the troops had broken, and
falling into confusion, all had perished after a brief struggle.”
One bright incident alone stands out distinctly on this fatal 22nd
January. On the storming of the camp by the Zulus, Lieutenants Melville
and Coghill rode from the camp with the colours of their regiment.
On they spurred in their frantic flight to the Tugela, and Coghill
safely stemmed the torrent and landed on the farther shore. Melville,
however, while in mid stream, lost his horse, but clinging to the
beloved colours, battled with the furious torrent with all the energy
of despair. The Zulus pressed upon them. Quick as thought, Coghill put
his charger once more into the current, and struggled to the assistance
of his brother officer, and, despite the fact that a Zulu bullet made
short work of his horse, the two devoted men succeeded in making their
escape with the colours still in their hands. The respite was not for
long, however. Soon the yelling hordes were upon them, and, fighting
fiercely to the last, Lieutenants Melville and Coghill died bravely
upholding the honour of their country.
Meantime the advance party had pushed forward, and came in touch now
and again with the enemy, who ever fell back before them, till about
midday, when it was determined to return to camp. About this time word
came to hand of heavy firing near the camp, and returning gradually
till about six o’clock, when at a distance of only two miles from the
waggons, “four men were observed slowly advancing towards the returning
force. Thinking them to be enemy, fire was opened, and one of the men
fell. The others ran into the open, holding up their hands, to show
themselves unarmed.” They proved to be the only survivors of the native
contingent. “The camp was found tenanted by those who were taking their
last long sleep.”
Nearly 4000 Zulus were found dead in the neighbourhood of Isandhlwana,
showing the stout resistance made by our men. But, at the best, the
disaster was a fearful one, the total Imperial losses being put at over
800 officers and men.
The night of the 22nd January saw another historic incident of the
war--the heroic defence of Rorke’s Drift. At this important ford of the
Tugela, vital to the British lines of communication, were stationed
Lieutenants Chard and Bromhead, and B company, 2nd battalion 24th
regiment. One hundred and thirty-nine men in all constituted the
numbers of this devoted band. A mission station, one building of which
was used as a hospital, and one as a commissariat store, made up
Rorke’s Drift.
At 3.15 p.m. (the time has been noted with great accuracy), Lieutenant
Chard, who was down by the river, heard the sound of furious galloping.
Louder and louder grew the hoof-beats, and ere long two spent and
almost beaten horsemen drew sudden rein upon the Zulu bank of the
Tugela. Wildly they demanded to be ferried across, and in a few
frenzied words told the terrible tale of Isandhlwana. The Zulus were
coming, they cried, and not a moment was to be lost!
One of them, Lieutenant Adendorf, remained behind to aid in the
defence; the other was despatched post haste to Helpmakaar, the
next point in the communications, to warn the troops and bring up
reinforcements. Rorke’s Drift must be held at whatever cost and against
any odds! With feverish, but well-directed haste, all hands set to work
to put the mission buildings into a state of defence. Mr. Dalton, of
the Commissariat Department, assisted ably in the work that every man
now tackled with a will. Loopholes were made in the buildings, and by
means of two waggons and walls of mealie bags, they were connected and
provisioned with the stores.
At this time, between 4 and 4.30 p.m., an officer of Dumford’s Horse,
with about 100 men, arrived, but these being totally spent, were sent
on to Helpmakaar, and the Rorke’s Drift garrison prepared cheerfully to
face the foe. They were not long in coming. Whilst Lieutenant Chard was
in the midst of constructing “an inner work of biscuit boxes, already
two boxes high,” about 4.30 p.m., the first of the enemy, some 600,
appeared in sight. Rushing up to within fifty yards of the now extended
position, they yelled defiance at the defenders, but a heavy fire from
the loopholed masonry gave them pause at once.
From now on, the defence of Rorke’s Drift became one prolonged and
watchful struggle. Again and again the frenzied Zulus threw themselves
against the slender defences of the gallant band, and again and again
were they hurled back, now with rifle fire, now with bayonet, but
ever backward. Darkness set in, and still the rushes continued, till
at length it was found necessary to retreat into the inner line of
defence composed of the biscuit-boxes aforementioned. At length the
enemy succeeded in setting the hospital on fire, and the awful task of
removing the sick, under the fearful odds, was taken in hand. Alas! not
all could be removed, and many perished. No effort, however, was spared
to get them all out, and at the last, with ammunition all expended,
Privates Williams, Hook, R. Jones, and W. Jones held the door with the
bayonet against the Zulu horde.
Now and again the battered entrenchments were repaired with mealie
bags, and still the unequal fight went on. By midnight the little band
was completely surrounded, and the light of the burning hospital,
showing off garrison and assailants, revealed the awful struggle that
was going on in the lurid light. “Never say die!” was the principle of
the garrison, and it was carried out to the letter.
At 4 a.m. on the 23rd January the Zulu fire slackened, and by
daybreak the enemy was out of sight. Hand grasped hand, as it was
slowly realised that the foe were beaten back and the flag was still
fluttering over the gallant garrison. Even now Lieutenant Chard, nearly
dead beat as was he and were all his men, relaxed no effort, and the
work of repairing the defences went forward. Not without cause, for
about 7 a.m. more Zulus appeared upon the hills to the south-west, but
about an hour later No. 3 Column arrived upon the spot, and the enemy
fell back. Seventeen killed and ten wounded were the casualties of the
little garrison, while more than 350 Zulus lay dead around the mission
station. At one time the number of the attacking force was estimated at
3000.
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.
The interval now elapsing was conspicuous for an occurrence which threw
a gloom over the whole field force, and even the continent of Europe
itself.
On June 2nd, the young Prince Imperial of France, who had been allowed
to proceed to South Africa, largely as a spectator of the military
operations, was sent with a small escort of troopers to examine the
proposed line of march from the Itilezi Hill. Lieutenant Carey of the
98th went with him. Ever eager in adventure, and careless of personal
risk, the Prince insisted upon setting out with only a portion of
his escort, the others not having turned out in time. The discovery
of a good water supply for the next camping ground was the object of
the reconnaissance. Never for a moment supposing that the Prince and
Lieutenant Carey would proceed far without the Basuto members of their
escort, whose extraordinary powers of sight and hearing rendered them
invaluable on such an occasion, Colonel Harrison and Major Grenfell
rode back after a certain distance. The others went on alone. About 3
p.m. the little party halted at a deserted kraal, deciding to leave
again in an hour’s time, but before the hour was over the native
guide came hastening in to say that a Zulu had been sighted coming
over the hill. The Prince never foolhardy, at once gave the order to
“Mount!” But the Zulus were quicker. Firing a volley from the mealies,
which grew high on every side, they rushed down, assegai in hand. All
succeeded in mounting but the Prince, whose spirited grey charger would
not be controlled. In a moment he was alone, on foot, surrounded by the
savage foe. Turning round, on seeing his riderless horse, several of
the troopers saw the Prince running towards them on foot. “Not a man
turned back. They galloped wildly on.” Some distance later they met
Colonels Wood and Buller, and to them they made the melancholy report.
Next day, General Marshall, with a cavalry patrol, went out to search
for the Prince, and lying in a donga, 200 yards from the kraal, they
found his body, stripped bare with the exception of a gold chain and
cross which he wore round his neck. There were no less than eighteen
assegai wounds in the body, every one of them in front, as he had died
fearless to the last and facing the relentless foe. The bodies of two
troopers were found some distance away; they had been killed in their
flight.
“What citizen of ‘Maritzburg,” says the historian of the war, “will
ever forget the melancholy Sunday afternoon, cold and storm-laden,
when, at the first distant sound of the sad approaching funeral
music, all left their homes and lined the streets through which the
violet-adorned coffin passed on its way to its temporary resting place?”
Transferred at Durban to the flagship of Commodore Richards, the
Boadicea, and thence, at Simons Bay to H.M.S. Orontes, the body of
the gallant boy was brought to England with every mark of sorrow and
respect. Lieutenant Carey was found by court-martial to be guilty of
misbehaviour before the enemy, but military opinion condemned the
verdict, and on his arrival in England he was released from arrest. All
ranks and all classes were profoundly sympathetic towards the Prince’s
mother, the ex-Empress Eugenie.
In this interval of waiting also, the bodies of those who died at
Isandhlwana were at length interred, the 24th regiment burying its own
dead before the assembled battalions.
Once more Cetewayo was reported to be eager to submit, and on June 30th
chiefs of rank arrived at Lord Chelmsford’s camp, bearing elephants’
tusks, the Zulu symbol of good faith. They were told that the British
army would advance to a position on the left bank of the Umoolori
river, and there halt, if certain conditions were complied with. These
were that the two seven-pounders captured at Isandhlwana and the
captured cattle, should be restored by chiefs of authority, and one of
his regiments should come and lay down its arms.
By noon on July 3rd these demands were not complied with, and some
of our men who went down to the river to water were fired on by the
Zulus. On July 4 the whole force crossed the river at 6.45 a.m. and
advanced towards Ulundi. Streams of Zulus soon appeared on every side.
The cavalry on the right and left became engaged two hours later, and
slowly retiring as the enemy advanced, passed into “the square,” which
had been drawn up in a singularly advantageous position. The enemy
advanced in loose formation, throwing out, however, the customary
“horns” of the Zulu impi. Then, when the distance was sufficiently
reduced, the fire of the infantry commenced. The enemy fired rapidly,
but, as usual, with little effect. The British artillery fire was
tremendous. Volley after volley swept through the Zulu ranks as they
rushed boldly in to the attack, but the issue was not long. The devoted
“braves” began to waver, and the ripe moment was seized upon by Lord
Chelmsford. The cavalry swept out of the square, which opened to let
them through, and within an hour the Zulus were in full retreat. The
17th Lancers wrought tremendous execution, killing and riding down in
all directions. No less than 150 of the enemy fell before this squadron
alone.
Brief, as described, was the battle of Ulundi, which terminated the
Zulu campaign. The credit of the victory admittedly belongs to Lord
Chelmsford, who thus regained much of the prestige which he had
forfeited at Isandhlwana.
The British lost 10 killed at Ulundi; the Zulus nearly 1000. Our force
numbered 4000 Europeans and 1100 natives; the Zulus counted 20,000 in
all.
Later in the day the army advanced to Ulundi, burnt it with all the
other military kraals and returned to camp. Nearly all the leading
chiefs in Zululand marked the victory by their submission.
Cetewayo himself, footsore and weary, was run to earth on the morning
of August 28th in a kraal near the Black Umoolosi. The kraal was
surrounded, and the king bidden to come forth. Cetewayo, creeping out,
stood with kingly composure and defiance among the dragoons. He was
taken by sea to Cape Town and there confined in the castle. He was a
man of splendid physique, and, says a writer, “showed good-humoured
resignation.” He took to European clothes, and was photographed.
The terms of peace were subsequently dictated by Sir Garnet Wolseley
at Ulundi, on the 1st September--the anniversary day of Cetewayo’s
coronation.