CHAPTER IV.

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.