Chelmsford’s mounted irregulars then joined the fray and, mindful of the massacre of their colleagues at Isandlwana, trotted among the scattering Zulus shooting them with impunity. One of the Edendale Troop was seen to shoot and wound a warrior and then set about questioning him; having got the answers he sought, the trooper shot the warrior dead.10 Many warriors lay down in the grass in the hope of escape, knowing that they would be out of range of the riders’ swords; but once the immediate area around the square was secured, the Native Contingent was released to kill any wounded or hiding Zulus. The horror of indiscriminate killing continued for another two hours and extended for several miles in all directions until the fleeing Zulus had either escaped or been killed. Major Robinson was a witness to the assegaing of wounded Zulus and requested a correspondent accompanying him not to comment on the slaughter ‘or they will think us awful brutes, as bad as we did the Bashi-bazouks’.11 The Zulu reserves that had occupied the slopes of the surrounding hills were beyond the reach of the cavalry so the 9 pound guns were moved from the rear and front faces of the square to shell them.
It was immediately clear to the men forming the square that the victory had been a decisive one. For Chelmsford, it meant relief from the months of tension he had laboured under since Isandlwana. It was all the more sweet because he had been able to achieve his victory before Sir Garnet Wolseley could take command.
As soon as the last groups of Zulus had been forced back over the hills Chelmsford ordered the destruction by shellfire of King Cetshwayo’s royal homestead. With Chelmsford’s fighting square still intact, orders were then given for the column’s dead to be buried and the casualties tended to. An hour later the column marched forward for half a mile to the Mbilane stream, passing down the same grass slope where Buller’s men had been ambushed the day before. After eating a midday meal, the column retraced its steps back to Fort Nolela on the far bank of the White Mfolozi river. The final battle of the Zulu war had lasted just forty minutes. On 20 September the Graphic commented:
Our cavalry … galloped out in pursuit, and mowed them down on the hill-sides in every direction. It was a brilliant half-hour’s work, but much as we may congratulate ourselves, upon the gallant behaviour of our own men, we cannot help feeling some measure of admiration for the determined gallantry of their savage opponents.
The wide-ranging patrols of Lancers began to set fire to the surrounding royal homesteads while others, including Bengough’s NNC, continued to track down wounded and hiding Zulus; the ongoing sound of sporadic gunfire evidenced the hunt and execution. Chelmsford then gave his officers permission to ride into Ulundi itself. A race ensued and Lord Beresford was the first into the royal homestead and according to Melton Prior, was nicknamed ‘Ulundi Beresford’ for his daring dash. The scamper into Ulundi nevertheless resulted in further tragedy for Chelmsford when his interpreter, the Hon William Drummond, disappeared. He was last seen riding through the vast array of huts and to the great concern of those who knew him, all attempts to find him failed; his assagaied and burned body was not found until several months later.
The British ransacked the king’s huts and then set fire to Ulundi; those looking for treasure were disappointed for there was nothing of value to loot. All the while the cavalry routed the fleeing Zulus for another hour, killing every warrior they could find. All mounted troops were then recalled back to the square; but not before they had killed about 1,500 Zulu warriors. As was usual following a successful battle, Chelmsford addressed his gathered men and thanked them for their efforts. The entire force then about-turned and with Ulundi now well ablaze, began to march back towards the White Mfolozi river with the band playing ‘Rule, Britannia!’ and the ‘Royal Alliance March’; they passed the battlefield and its glinting rows of expended ammunition cases – later estimated to have amounted to over 35,000 rounds of Martini-Henry ammunition. By the evening the British were all safely back in camp and Chelmsford could relax for the first time in many months.
CHAPTER 16
Beginning of the End
The death of 10,000 Zulus … defending their hearths and homes.1
W.E. GLADSTONE
The Zulu war was over; it had cost the British 76 officers and 1,007 men killed plus a similar number of colonial and black Natal auxiliaries. A further 17 officers and 330 men had died of disease and a further 99 officers and 1,286 men were invalided away from the campaign. Exact figures for Zulu losses are impossible to assess; they certainly lost 10,000 warriors killed in action and conservative estimates suggest that a similar number probably died from their injuries.
Chelmsford had no intention of chasing after King Cetshwayo or remaining in Africa longer than was necessary; capturing the king and restoring normality to Zululand would be thankless tasks, tasks that would occupy Wolseley and his staff for many weeks if not months. Chelmsford was fully aware that before Wolseley could report anything of detriment to him he would already be back in London, and with Ulundi being portrayed by his staff as a brilliant victory, the glory would be his to enjoy.
At Ulundi there was no clearing of the battlefield; for many weeks only deserted and smouldering villages evidenced the once thriving heart of the Zulu nation. The dead bodies of slain Zulus remained where they had fallen and these were left to the predators or to rot and shrivel in the sun. The British roughly estimated that not fewer than 1,500 Zulus had died in the battle for Ulundi while Buller suggested that his mounted men increased the death toll by yet another 500 during the far-ranging Zulu rout. Even after natural scavengers had done their work, skeletons and human bones littered the battlefield for many years. Macabrely, the only attempt to clear the area occurred when an enterprising Natal trader arranged to collect sacks of bones for onward shipment to Durban; they were then sorted for grinding into bone meal but the project came to a halt when the citizens of Durban realized what was happening and strongly opposed this commercial use of human remains.
The replacement Second Division commander for the reinvasion, Major General Henry Hope Crealock, was given a mandate similar to that given to Colonel Pearson except that he was to establish strongly fortified staging posts along his advance and to use these as a springboard to destroy two large Zulu homesteads before supporting the First Division’s advance on Ulundi. Having established two forts named Crealock and Chelmsford, he ran into the same problem that dogged the British throughout the campaign, namely lack of wagons and oxen. The new posts had to be laboriously supplied but only at the expense of overworking the already exhausted draught animals, many of which died. The putrefying carcasses left at the side of the busy track made conditions very unpleasant and, as a result, men began to fall sick in increasing numbers.
In order to hurry supplies forward, a pontoon bridge was constructed across the Tugela river and a suitable beach for landing supplies was established 30 miles up the coast and named Port Durnford. A third post, Fort Napoleon, was constructed as Crealock slowly advanced further inland. Because of his logistical problems, Crealock’s progress had been painfully slow and he had little influence on the main events happening further north. Even though he destroyed the two large military homesteads and accepted the surrender of many of the enemy, he was inevitably castigated for being slow and ineffective. General Wolseley, who had arrived just too late to prevent Chelmsford from finally defeating the Zulus at Ulundi, dismissed Crealock’s efforts by suggesting that ‘the First Division might as well have been marching along the Woking and Aldershot road’.
On the return march it was evident to the troops that the Zulus were a formidable force and they were greatly unnerved by them. Pearson’s force was camped near the deserted mission station at eMvutsheni when they were joined by a number of John Dunn’s followers. That evening Dunn’s black scouts were manning the outer camp picket when, in the early hours of darkness, a picket of the 91st Regiment mistakenly sounded the alarm. Dunn’s men scurried back to the safety of the camp, only to stumble onto a line of waiting bayonets. Mistaken for Zu
lus, a number were seriously injured and several died of their wounds.
The British regular forces that had taken Ulundi then marched out of Zululand and left its people, particularly those whose homes had been along the invasion route, to their fate. On 6 July the column was struck by severe storms; the hail was fierce enough to kill hundreds of oxen, and numerous horses died while the soldiers took cover where they could. The abnormal conditions released a plague of snake-like worms into the British position; some were over 3ft long and 1in thick, which added to the troops’ woe.2 The men were cheered with extra supplies of rum and on the 10th the weather cleared. Chelmsford journeyed on to Cape Town where he received an enthusiastic reception from the European population for whom Ulundi had eradicated the memories of earlier disasters. Wolseley later commented that ‘since his [Chelmsford’s] fight he is all cock-a-hoop. Poor fellow, I can understand his feelings and am anxious to let him down easy’. Chelmsford sailed home on RMS German in the company of Wood and Buller, his most effective and reliable commanders, although both had earlier confided to Wolseley that they objected strongly to Chelmsford’s associating with them and thereby giving the impression that ‘they were in the same boat and going home because the war was over’.3
It could only be a matter of time before King Cetshwayo was found and captured. Indeed, it was one of the king’s former friends, Mnyamana, who initially betrayed him by warning the British that the king was hiding in the Ingome forest. With so many bands of Zulus left wandering about the country, the potential for a resumption of conflict, albeit on a small scale, nevertheless continued to smoulder. Indeed, neither the loss of the battle nor the burning of Ulundi was particularly significant to the Zulus. Ulundi could have been rebuilt quickly and the northern abaQulusi remained bitterly opposed to any suggestion of surrender. Had it not been for King Cetshwayo’s earlier sending a secret emissary to the abaQulusi ordering the cessation of hostilities, the war would certainly have continued. The colonial elements of Wood’s column were placed under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Baker-Russell, 13th Hussars, with orders to break up these bands and pacify the north-west part of the country, especially the abaQulusi Zulus. Wolseley instructed that Baker-Russell was to be supported by Swazi forces but these turned out to be uncooperative, being more nervous of future retribution from the Zulus than of ignoring Wolseley. British troops in the Transvaal under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Villiers were then given similar instructions with the additional task of controlling the Zulus along the Pongola river.4
On 24 August Wolseley learned that the abaQulusi intended to continue opposing the remaining British; while he was considering this new threat the fugitive King Cetshwayo ordered all Zulus, including the abaQulusi, to surrender. Once the remaining groups of Zulus heard that the king had been captured, most sought to make peace. The remnants under Chief Manyanyoba also sought to give themselves up but their attempt to surrender coincided with an order to Villiers from Wolseley that he should ‘clear Manyanyoba out’. On Villiers’s orders troops under Colonel Black marched out to Manyanyoba’s stronghold overlooking the Ntombe river where a group of warriors promptly surrendered; the troops then advanced towards a number of caves where the remaining warriors, women, children and animals were hiding. Unfortunately one of the warriors in a cave inadvertently discharged his rifle whereupon the warriors who had just surrendered were immediately slaughtered by their guards who suspected a trap. The surrender of Manyanyoba and his people came to a halt and the troops marched back to camp.
On 28 August the king was tracked down to a remote village by one of the searching parties, led by Major Marter. There was little the king could do – other than to surrender. Major Marter treated his prisoner with dignity though two of the king’s servants were shot when they tried to escape. On 31 August the king was brought by cart to Wolseley’s camp overlooking the scarred remains of Ulundi. Arrogant as ever, Wolseley declined to meet with the king, merely sending him a message that he would remain a captive of the British – at that the king’s resolve left him and he was seen to crumple dejectedly. On 4 September King Cetshwayo was taken by sea from nearby Port Durnford and exiled to the Cape.
The British troops returned to deal with Manyanyoba on 5 September and attempted to smoke the Zulus from their caves, without success. On 8 September the troops returned and destroyed the caves with dynamite, notwithstanding that they were still sheltering many Zulus. On 22 September Manyanyoba, unprepared to take further losses, surrendered to the British; he and his surviving followers were escorted to the Batshe valley near Rorke’s Drift where they sought to settle.
At home the British nation cheered; starved of good news and needing a lift, the public welcomed home the worn-out regiments that had suffered so greatly during the mismanaged campaign. There were plenty of heroes to fête and their names became known in every household. Queen Victoria, after years of refusing to involve herself in the nation’s affairs, was pleased to pin decorations and orders on the fresh tunics of her brave soldiers and for several weeks the country enjoyed being proud of its army until memories faded and fresh news succeeded old. As Kipling perceptively wrote:
It’s Tommy this, and Tommy that,
And chuck ‘im out, the brute!
But it’s Saviour of’ is Country,
When the guns begin to shoot …
Now public opinion at home polarized against the war. Disraeli refused to receive Chelmsford who had cost the country so much and brought discredit to the British government. Some newspapers continued to pillory Chelmsford, popular songs mocked him and even some of his fellow peers were critical. But it was those who really mattered, the Horse Guards and Queen Victoria, who rallied to his support. Chelmsford was showered with honours; his rank of lieutenant general was confirmed and the Queen used her influence to have him appointed Lieutenant of the Tower. He later became a full general and Colonel of the Sherwood Foresters and then of the 2nd Life Guards. After his retirement, honours still came Chelmsford’s way. Queen Victoria appointed him Gold Stick, an honour that was carried over when her son, Edward, succeeded her. He also made the ageing general a GCVO. On 9 April 1905, at the age of 78, Lord Chelmsford had a seizure and died while playing billiards at the United Services Club. So died a man with many admirable attributes but who was thrust into a position for which he was not intellectually equipped. Instead of being a long-forgotten Victorian general, he is still remembered as the man ultimately responsible for the Victorian army’s greatest military defeat.
There was to be no redemption for Sir Bartle Frere either; he was recalled home, his credibility ruined for ever, though he defended his position to the bitter end. Even on his deathbed his last words echoed his belief that he was right: ‘Oh, if only they would read The Further Correspondence they must understand’, referring to his official justification for the war.5
On 29 May 1884 he died, probably of influenza. He was buried in St Paul’s Cathedral, though no politician was invited to accompany the procession. His coffin was led into the cathedral by two dukes, one field marshal and three major generals. Queen Victoria was represented along with an array of lords, knights and ordinary soldiers. Later a statue of Frere was erected on the Thames embankment, paid for by public subscription.
After King Cetshwayo’s capture on 28 August, he was taken by ship to the Cape where he remained until he was taken to England in 1882. Under the determined guidance of Bishop Colenso, King Cetshwayo had formally requested permission to meet Queen Victoria in order to outline his claim for reinstatement as King of Zululand. On 14 September 1881 permission for the visit was telegraphed to Sir Hercules Robinson, the High Commissioner in South Africa. The king’s visit was delayed by British officials in South Africa who were worried by the implications of his return to authority in Zululand. Nevertheless, the following August King Cetshwayo arrived in London where he was enthusiastically received by crowds of curious Londoners. On 14 August 1882 the king formally met Queen Victoria at Osborne Hous
e on the Isle of Wight, and after returning to London had further discussions with her officials.
Queen Victoria urged her government to facilitate King Cetshwayo’s repatriation; in due course the king was returned to South Africa to await permission for his return to Zululand. He then had to wait until 7 December for British permission to regain the Zulu monarchy but with the permission came news that shocked him: two large swathes of Zululand had been disposed of. One was an area to be known as the Zulu Native Reserve under the control of John Dunn and Chief Hlubi while the other area had been allocated to Chief Zibhebhu, chief of the Mandlakazi Zulus and a former rival of the king. Cetshwayo reluctantly signed the agreement and the following January he was permitted to return to Ulundi with a view to rebuilding his shattered nation. Meanwhile Zululand was in turmoil. On 2 July 1883 Zibhebhu mounted a full-scale attack against the king and his followers. The royalists were heavily defeated and over sixty of the most important chiefs loyal to King Cetshwayo were killed. These included Ntshingwayo, who had commanded at Isandlwana and Khambula, and Sihayo, whose sons had precipitated the British ultimatum. In addition to the firing of the royal amakhanda, all King Cetshwayo’s property, including presents from Queen Victoria, flamboyant uniforms and trinkets, was seized and removed by Zibhebhu’s men. King Cetshwayo was wounded and his new homestead was burnt to the ground. He was forced to flee to Eshowe where he sought protection from the British Resident Commissioner.
King Cetshwayo died following a meal on 8 February 1884, probably poisoned by his own people. To prevent his grave from becoming a future rallying point for Zulu dissenters, he was buried in an isolated and beautiful part of the Nkandla forest at Nkunzana near the Mome gorge.
Without doubt the Zulu people regarded Cetshwayo as a great king. Certainly he was highly intelligent and following his capture by the British he impressed all those who met him, including Queen Victoria. King Cetshwayo’s heir was his youngest son, Dinuzulu. His inheritance was a country in ruins; villages and homesteads were burnt to the ground and cattle and crops destroyed or plundered.
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