Printed
in Friend of India and Statesman 23rd
January 1883
London
Correspondence - Colonel Durnford and
Lord Chelmsford
(from
our own correspondent) December, 22,
1883.
I do not remember
who it was that said that the thing most wanting in this world was, not
benevolence, but justice; but whoever it was, a truer utterance never proceeded
from the mouth of man. The indifference
to justice is the source of nine-tenths of the ills that afflict the human
race; and this it is which more than any other cause arrays nation against
nation, class against class, and man against man. Every one if he will only think for a moment,
can be satisfied of the truth of this.
None of us are moved to wrath because others do not treat us with
benevolence; but the endurance of injustice, or what we deem to be such,
creates a mental wound which Time – omnipotent as it is in the case of most
other Injuries – is impotent to heal. It
is only natural that it should be so, for no reasonable person claims the
benevolence of his kind as something to which he has a right; but an act of
injustice actually deprives us of that which is our own. It is an act or robbery of a peculiarly
heinous kind. What says that clever
villain Tago, who, when the need was, could talk like an Archbishop?---
“Who steals my
purse, steals trash;
“Tis mine, “tis
his, and has been slave to thousands;
But he who flinches
from me my good name,
Robs me of that
which not enriches him,
And leaves me poor
indeed?.”
The species of robbery reaches its culminating point of business when the man whose good name has been filched from him is in the grave incapable of speaking in his own defence.
These
thoughts have been suggested to me by a book which has just appeared. It is a Memoir of Colonel A.W, Durnford,
written by his brother, Lieutenant-Colonel E. Durnford. When Colonel Durnford died the death of a hero,
while covering the flight of the British troops and camp-followers at Isandhlwana,
the British nation lost a soldier of an almost ideal type.
In the errors which brought about the
slaughter on that day he had absolutely no part, but his great qualities as a
commander would have plucked victory out of almost certain defeat but for the
persistent blundering of his Commander-in-Chief. None the less, officially, he has been held
responsible both by the late Government and by this, because otherwise, the
censure must have rested upon Lord Chelmsford.
The
baseness of this proceeding consisted in this, that had Colonel Durnford
survived the battle, he might have demanded a court-martial. Being dead, he was incapable of defending
himself. Ever since his death, his
brother, Colonel E. Durnford has been endeavouring with indefatigable perseverance,
to extract from the authorities an official exculpation of his brother, but, it
is unnecessary to say, without success; and so, and as a last resource, he has
published a Memoir of his brother, thereby appealing to the nation at large to
render him that justice for which he has been fruitlessly knocking at the doors
of the War Office and the Horse Guards.
I cannot say that I regret the necessity which has driven him into
print. His loss is everybody else’s
gain, for we have thereby obtained a Memoir excellently well put together of a
man whose memory the British army should not willingly let die.
The last
Colonel Durnford and “Chinese” Gordon were united in a close friendship, and
there was also a striking similarity in their characters. The whole life of “Chinese” Gordon exhibits
an almost fanatic desire that justice should prevail upon the earth, and this
desiree has made him, in total oblivion of self, the devoted champion of wak
and oppressed races, whether in China or the Soudan, or at the Cape of Good
Hope
A great soldier, it can be said
of “Chinese” Gordon as was so truly said of Garibaldi, that
“his sword sprang never from its sheath,
Except to cleave a chain.”
Precisely such a man as this was
Colonel Durnford as his is depicted for us in this Memoir by his brother, and
had he ived, I am convinced that his career would have been every whit as
illustrious as that of his brother Engineer and a friend.
In 1849,
just after he entered the army, he happened to be between Berwick and Holy
Island, when a small craft had struck on the coast during a storm. Seeing the hesitation of the fishermen to go
to the rescue, he jumped into a boat, calling out: “Will none of you come with
me? If not, I shall go alone.” A volunteer crew at once joined him, and
succeeded in rescuing those in peril.
This incident is typical of his whole career. He was great, not only as an actor himself ,
but by reason of his power to inspire all who had to do with him with his own
courage and devotedness.
It was
at the beginning of 1872 that Captain Durnford proceeded to the Cape on duty,
and shortly after, he was ordered to Natal, in which colony his name will long
be remembered. Captain Durnford’s first
experience of Kaffir “wars” was in the expedition against the ill-fated
Lanalibaleli and his tribe, and the “eating up” by the colonists of the Putini
tribe for no offence at all, except that certain of their women had
intermarried with the men of the tribe of Lanalibaleli. Up to that time, Captain Durnford had believed,
like multitudes of his countrymen, in what is called “British justice” and
“British humanity, as qualities which animated the actions of Englishmen in
every country and among all peoples. The
experience of these “wars” undeceived him.
This is
how he writes about them to his mother:
“One-twentieth
of the whole black population has been reduced to slavery.... There have been
sad sights – women and children butchered by our black allies, and old men too. “Twas too bad. But when one employs savage against savage, what can
one be astonished at? The burnt,
villages, dead women, it was all horrible!
And the destitution and misery of the women and children left is
fearful. The women are all made slaves. What will England say?
Thank
God, no woman or child was killed by my command; no old man either; but others
have committed these atrocities, for which there is no defence to my
mind.” The horrible cruely and injustice
with which the Putini tribe in particular had been treated by the Natal
Government and the Colonists determined Colonel Durnford’s future line of
conduct while in South Africa. This
tribe, literally for no fault at all, had been “eaten up” by the Colonists, and
with the sanction of the Natal Government – that is to say, their flocks and
herds had been forcibly carried away, their huts thrown down, their field
destroyed, and the men, women, and children of the tribe sold into slavery
under the name of “apprenticeship”.
This humane transaction, gentle readers, was
carried out by Englishmen in the year 1872, Colonel Durnford resolved that he
would not rest until this gigantic wrong had been to some extent undone, and in
the face of tremendous obstacles and unmeasured abuse he ultimately triumphed. I need hardly say that all true and patriotic
Englishmen in South Africa should “shame” upon him, as a “pessimist” of
atrocious character.
He had a
dog, of which he was extremely fond, therefore sundry of the good citizens of
Pietermaritzburg poisoned the unoffending creature, as they said, Colonel
Durnford would then be “without a friend int he place.” When Sir Garnet Wolseley came to Natal on his
abortive mission, anterior to the appointment of Sir Bartle Frere, neither he
nor his “brilliant staff” would consent to have any relations with a man who
had rendered himself so odious to the Colonists and the Natal Government. Sir Garnet plainly told the Colonel that he
(Sir Garnet) believed his efforts on behalf of the Putini as “an act of
treason” to the Natal Government, whose servant he was. But disliked and distrusted as he was by his
own countrymen, Colonel Durnford reaped the only reward he cared for in the
devoted attachment of the Kaffir races, who recognised in the champion of the
ill-used Putini, the friend of the whole people. One of his Basutos, speaking of him
afterwards, described his first impression of the Colonel thus:
He was a
new experience to us. When we, Basutos,
first saw him, we had been summoned by Mr Shepstone, who showed him to us,
saying: “See! This is the chief you are to follow in this expedition. Beware now! Mind you do well, for he is a
high chief, a great soldier, and will not allow any fault to go unpunished. Do not imagine that he will treat you as
mildly as I do, for if you make him angry, he will be terrible. So beware!”
Twice over was this said to us in Maritzburg, and again at the camp, and
we felt that it was a serious matter.
But we soon found out that he was only terrible against wrong-doing,
and, for the rest, he treated us as men; as fellow creatures. No other white chief ever showed us the same
consideration...;. That night on the mountain, when we started again, it was
cold, but the Major could not bear the weight of his heavy waterproof coat on
his injured shoulder. So he told Elijah
Kambula (a Basuto), who had on a light woollen overcoat to change coats with
him. Elijah, who had never received such
an order from a white chief, before, said to me in “Basuto, “What did he say?”
That I am to give him my coat and war his?”
“Come Elijah, make haste!” exclaimed the Major”, “are you afraid to lend
me your coat?” Then Elijah gave it to him, but he had to be told again, before
he could venture to put on the other.
And we all said amongst ourselves:
“What sort of Chief is this we have found? He does not despise us.”
But I must hasten on to the last
and most heroic incident in Colonel Durnford’s carrer. I am thereby compelled to pass over in
silence the many proofs which he had given, prior to the outbreak of the Zulu
campaign, of superior military capacity and a perfect fearlessness in the
presence of danger. He had, when the
Zulu was began, lived down the calumnies which had been rained upon him for his
efforts to obtain juctice for the Putinis; his power over the natives and their
attachment to him were facts too patent to be ignored; and therefore it was
that when the war against the Zulus was determined upon, he was commissioned to
raise and command a contingent of Basuto troops, composed of both cavalry and
infantry, and numbering about three thousand men. Now, in order to estimate the degrees of
responsibility which attaches to Colonel Durnford for the disaster at
Isandhlwana, it is necessary to state exactly what he was not responsible for,
and about this there cannot be two opinions. It was Lord Chelmsford who
selected the site of the British encampment at Isandhlwana, which Mr Forbes –
the Daily News special correspondent, and a man who could speak from immense
military experience in all parts of the world – delcared to be one that
“invited surprise and attack” and as “defenceless as an English village.”
Colonel Durnford was not so much
as present with the force when the camp was formed. It was Lord Chelmsford who divided his
forces, going away with on-half of his troops after an imaginary Zulu army,
leaving the camp without having laagered his waggons or taken defensive
precautions of any kind. Colonel Durnford arrived on the ground only an hour
before the camp was surrounded by twenty thousand Zulus. Orders from the General he had none of any
kind watever. He had not so much as
received instructions to take command of the camp. And he arrived upon that ground to find the
position beset with enemies, and in itself totally indefensible. Colonel Durnford’s responsibilities therefore
commence from half past ten on the morning of the battle of Isandhlwana. For everything which happened anterior to
that hour Lord Chelmsford is solely and exclusively responsible. It was on the morning of the 20th
January that Lord Chelmsford and the British troops encamped at Isandhlwana:
“Nothing,”
writes the author of the Memoir, “in the way of entrenchment, laager, or
provision for defence was allowed, in spite of Colonel Glyn’s suggestion to
form laager, pooh-poohed at once by the General with the words: “It would take
a week to make.” There certainly ere
vedettes thrown out to the front and flanks, but those on the left flank seem
to have been withdrawn from where they could command a distant view; and an
infantry outpost line, composed of two companies of infantry and two companies
of natives, also covered the front. The surrounding country was reconnoitred
only to the front and right front, whilst, unknown and unsuspected like a
thunder-cloud gathering on the left front, the main Zulu army was approaching
its rendezvous under the Ingqutu mountain.”
I have
italicised this passage because it describes the first capital blunder
committed by Lord Chelmsford – the neglect, namely to reconnoitre the ground on
his left front. This failure is all the
more inexplicable, because a Zulu was given information on the 20th
that a large Zulu army was to be assembled on the 21st January
behind the Ingqutu range, and consequently, within striking distance of the
position at Isandhlwana. This fact, when
reported to the General, was not considered by him or his staff to be of any
special importance. Meanwhile the
reconnaissance which had been pushed out in front of the British position had
come upon a Zulu force, and Major Dartnell, who was in command, sent a message,
“that he had marked the Zulus down in a kloof, and asked for two companies of
infantry to be sent out as a support, and that he would attack the Zulus in the
morning.”
Lord
Chelmsford’s response to this request was to march out next morning, and join
Major Dartnell at the head of more than half his troops. As the author of the Memoir very justly
observes –
“It is
impossible to discover any reason for the General’s taking out more than half
his force, when asked for two companies
as a support, especially when he knew his left front was not reconnoitred,
and when he had himself seen Zulu
horsemen there, and had expressed his intention of reconnoitring in that
direction. But there, within from three to five miles lay the 20,000 Zulus, silent
and undiscovered. They made no sound,
they lit no fires; they waited.”
The
Zulus seen by Major Dartnell were a force thrown out to divert attention from
the quarter where danger really threatened – namely, on the left front of the
camp at Isandhlwana, and consequently when Lord Chelmsford marched to attack,
they “fell back from hill to hill as we advanced, giving up without a shot most
commanding positions,” until they had lured the guileless British General to a
distance of twelve miles from his armed encampment.
It never occurred either to Lord Chelmsford or
any of his staff that this surrender of “most commanding positions” without the
firing of a single shot might be attributed to some other motive than simple
poltroonery; so secure in fact did Lord Chelmsford believe his camp to be, that
it was when he was miles distant from it, that he asked in a casual manner,
“What orders had been left for Colonel Pulleine?” – the officer who had been
left in command.
All this
time Colonel Durnford, in command of the second column, was halted at Rorke’s
Drift; but on the morning of the 22nd, he received an order from
Lieutenant-Colonel Crealock, the Adjutant-General, couched in the following
terms:- “You are to march to this camp at
once with all the force you have with you of No. 2 column.” Not a word, it is to be noted, in this order,
as to taking “command” of the camp, and it is evident that Colonel Durnford did
not understand that this duty had been imposed upon him. For when he reached Isandhlwana, Colonel
Pulleine said: “I am sorry you have come, as you are senior to me, and will of
course, take command.” To which the
reply was: “I’m not going to interfere with you. I’m not going to remain in camp.” Colonel Durnford then asked Colonel Pulleine
for all the information he had, and hearing that Zulus had been seen in
considerable numbers on the left front of Isandhlwana, and that the ground in
that direction had not been reconnoitred by the General, he determined to
undertake at once, with his mounted men, the duty which Lord Chelmsford had
neglected.
He asked
Colonel Pulleine to support him with two companies of infantry, but on being
told that the men could ill be spared, he decided to take his own men
only. At about four miles from the camp
he came upon an immense Zulu “impi” – the twenty thousand men in fact, who had
assembled behind the Ingqutu range, and were now sweeping down upon it with a
certainty of success. But Colonel Durnford, with his Basuto horse, in two
bodies – the one commanded by himself, the other by Captain Shepstone – held
them a long while in check and inflicted very heavy losses. The Zulus, said one who escaped from the
final massacres, “lay just like pepper-corns upon the plain.” R.D.O.
London,
December 20.
My last
letter on this subject broke off at the point when Colonel Durnford, having
discovered a force of 20,000 Zulus advancing upon Isandhlwana from behind the
Ingqutu range, had retreated fighting, and inflicting heavy losses upon
them. This retiring movement was
continued until the Basuto Horse had reached a water=course about 800 yards in
front of the right of the camp, and here, reinforced by some thirty or forty
mounted men, a determined stand was made.
Tabez, one of Colonel Durnford’s Basutos who escaped from the battle,
thus describes this period of the action:-
“At last
we came to a bad stony place and a little stream quite close to the camp. Here we made a long stand, firing incessantly. The Colonel rode up and down our line
continually, encouraging us all, talking and even laughing with us – “Fire, my
boys.” “Well done, my boys,” he cried.
Some of us did not like his exposing himself so much, and wanted him to
keep behind, but he laughed at us, and said, “All right; nonsense.” He was very calm and cheerful all the time. There were not very many of us, but because
of the way in which we were handled by our leader, we were enough to stop the
Zulus on that side for a long time. We
could have carried him off with us safely enough at this time, only we knew him
too well to try. But we now say: “If we
had known what would happen, we would have seized him and bound him, not matter
if he had fought us for doing so, as he certainly would; no matter if he had
killed some of us, we would have saved his life, for he was our master.”
Now we
say that we will always remember him by his commanding voice, and the way in
which he gave us all some of his own spirit as he went along our line that day;
and those amongst us who had not served under him before as I had, say, “Why
did he not know him sooner?” We see also
that, but for him, we should all have died that day. But at last our cartridges were nearly
done. The Colonel had sent a messenger
back to camp for more, but none came.
Then he sent to Mr. Henderson and another, but now our cartridges were
quite done, and suddenly the Colonel, who was watching intently, told us all to
come back with him into the cap. We
went, but on the outskirts of the camp we met Mr. Henderson, who took us to our
own waggons for more ammunition. The
Colonel rode straight on to the General’s tent at the upper end of the
camp. While we were getting our
ammunition the Zulu army swept down right round the upper camp shutting us out.
But our leader was within, and we saw no more of him.”
The same
devoted servant of the Colonel went on to say, that –
“In all
the years through which he followed the Colonel, and watched his sad face
always, he has never seen him look so bright and happy – never seen his face
shine, and his eyes brighten, as during that last fight in the danger nearest
the camp, when he knew for certain that he should die.”
Now, up
to the moment when he retired from that donga, Colonel Durnford had had no
communication with the camp, beyond the brief conversation with Colonel
Pulleine at 10.30 that morning. It is
important to remember this, because, subsequently, it was charged against him,
both by Lord Chelmsford and Sir Bartle Frere, that he had acted in opposition
to the orders left with Colonel Pulleine , and that it was in consequence of
this disobedience of orders that the disaster had occurred.
Sir
Bartle Frere said that the disaster of Isandhlwana “was clearly due to breach
of the General’s Orders, and to disregard of well-known maxims of military
science.” Lord Chelmsford held that,
“every one must admit that the camp had not been lost through having an
insufficient garrison, or because the position was an unfit one for the number
of troops to defend, but because the strict orders for its defence which had
been given had not been carried out.”
These “strict orders” have never put themselves in evidence, and the
pleas is that they were lost upon the field of battle; but having regard to
Lord Chelmsford’s inquiry as to “what orders had been left with Colonel
Pulleine,” it is at least dubious whether orders of any king, “strict” or
otherwise, were left with Colonel Pulleine.
At any rate, Coloner Durnford neither modified nor interfered with them
in any way. Colonel Pulleine was left in
entire freedom to execute whatever orders he had received in the event of an
attack upon the camp. All that Colonel
Durnford’s reconnaissance had effected, was to give the camp timely warning of
the approach of an enemy who, otherwise, would have simply “rushed” the camp
while the men were in their tents. For
the fatal sense of security which had taken possession of Lord Chelmsford
reigned with equally undisputed away over Colonel Pulleine and the force under
his command. While Durnford and his
troops of Basuto Horse were expending themselves in a desperate endeavour to
retard the advance of the Zulu army, the British force in camp had no thought
or foreboding of the impending peril.
Nor was it until noon – that is to say, when Durnford was actually
making his last stand at the donga – “that they became aware of the presence of
a Zulu army in their neighbourhood.”
“About
noon,” writes Captain Essex, of the 24th, “a sergeant came into my
tent, and told me that firing was to be heard behind the hill where the company
of the 1st battalion, 24th, had been sent. I had my glasses over my shoulder, and
thought I might as well take my revolver, but did not trouble to put on my
sword, as I thought nothing of the matter and expected to be back in
half-an-hour to complete my letters.”
This
“firing behind the hill,” of which Captain Essex though so lightly, was the
sound of approaching annihilation to the British force. Colonel Durnford had made his stand at the
donga, because he saw that, unless the left “horn” of the Zulu impi was held
back, it would throw itself across the only line of retreat possible for the
English troops. But, in the meanwhile,
the right “horn” was working round to the rear of the Isandhlwana hill, and
just as Colonel Durnford galloped into camp, a tremendous rush of ten thousand
men sweeping round the right flank of the hill, and on the right and rear of
the 24th, broke up the British line, and rendered further resistance
all but impossible.
Forthwith
a wild flight took place along the road leading to Rorke’s Drift. Infantry, artillery, and camp=followers were
all crowded together, and the Zulus mingled in the crowd, cutting down the
fugitives as they ran. A narrow pass
called “a Nek” led from this camp, down to the “Fugitives’ Drift,” along which
the remnants of the force and the crowd of camp-followers were attempting to
seek safety, and Colonel Durnford at once perceived that to make good this pass
was the only hope of safety for the fugitives. He galloped up to a body of the Natal Mounted
Police, saying: “Now, my men, let us see what you can do.” Fourteen Natal Carabineers, and twenty of the
Natal Mounted Police under Lieutenant Scott, dismounted from their horses, and
with Durnford at their head, held “the Nek”.
They were joined by about thirty of the 24; and this little band of
heroes held the position for four mortal hours until the last man had fallen
where he stood.
“They
made,” says a Zulu, “a desperate resistance.
I repeatedly heard the word “fire” given by some one, but we proved too
many for them, and killed them all where they stood. When all was over I had a look at these men,
and saw an officer with his arm in a sling (Colonel Durnford), and with a big
moustache, surrounded by carbineers, soldiers, and other men that I did not
know.”
The shot
that killed Colonel Durnford caused also his watch to stop. It marked the hour – 3.40. An officer, who was administering one of the
South African dependencies, writes as follows:-
“The
general impression gained from the natives is that the resistance of “the
lion,” as they termed Colonel Durnford, was so nearly successful that they but
gained the victory by their over-whelming numbers, and looked upon it virtually
as a defeat.......and whatsoever may be written of Colonel Durnford in history,
when the matter is viewed dispassionately, there can be little doubt that the
unwritten Zulu history will record the “lion” as the hero of the campaign. The news of the heroic resistance of Durnford
and his party passed through the native tribes for several hundred miles
shortly after his death.
And now
let us turn to Lord Chelmsford to ascertain what he was doing all this
time. From first to last the battle of
Isandhlwana may be said to have lasted close upon six hours, and it is
well-nigh incredible that the General, distant only twelve miles, should have
received no intimation of what was passing in the camp which he had left that
morning. According to Lord Chelmsford,
however, this was actually what occurred.
“In
point of fact,” he said in the House of Lords, “he only received one message
from the camp in the course of that day .... which had been sent to him at 8
o’clock in the morning, and which was received by him at 9.30, which merely
gave the information that a body of the enemy had been noticed in a
north-westerly direction. From half past
nine o’clock until he reached the camp onhis return, not a single message, if
any were despatched, had reached him.”
Lord
Chelmsford does not appear to be aware that in the admission which he makes in
the foregoing passage that he pronounces his own condemnation. He was aware that “the north westerly
direction” in which a body of the enemy had been seen, was the direction in
which he had intended, but neglected to reconnoitre. He must have known that he had expressly
forbidden to “laager” the waggons as a fortification for the camp. And he was aware that no other kind of
defence was practicable, for, to use his own words, “it was found impossible to
dig even a shelter trench near the hill of Isandhlwana, owing to the rock
cropping up so close to the surface.”
Also he knew on the testimony of a Zulu, that a large Zulu army was to
assemble in that direction. All these
consideration ought to have suggested, to an officer with a little of Lord
Chelmsford’s experience the propriety of keeping “touch” with the force at
Isandhlwana. There was nothing in the
operationunder his personal superintendence to prevent him doing so. It is extremely difficult to know what was
the purpose of these same “operations”; but whatever it was, it is quite
certain that but for his totall disregard of the intimation which he received
at 9.30, Lord Chelmsford might have been at hand to preserve from destruction
the British force at Isandhlwana. Lord
Chelmsford, however, is grievously mistaken if he supposes that this was the
only intimation he received of the battle that was being fought for six long
hours in and around his camp.
Intimations he had many, but his understanding, and that of his staff
too, were shut against them, and remained so to the end.
These
intimations were as follows:-
“About
1.45, a native with the General’s force reported that heavy firing had been
going on round the camp; and the General, in consequence of this report, sent
some officers to a high spot to see if they could see whether anything was
occurring in the vicinity of the camp.
These reported that “all looked
quiet”, and from this satisfactory statement, Lord Chelmsford concluded that he
might dismiss the native’s report from his mind. A quarter of an hour later a message was
received from Commandant Browne, commanding the first battalion, Natal Native
Contingent, which had been ordered to return to Isandhlwana at 9.30am , to the
effect that large bodies of Zulus were between him and the British camp, and
that he could not advance without support.”
This
alarming message was understood by the general as meaning – not that his camp was
endangers, but – that Commandant Brown was halting to allow the remainder of
the column to close up. Earlier than
this, however, information absolutely unmistakable of what was going on at
Isandhlwana had reached the General, and has been simply ignored by him.
The
incidents relating to this are so profoundly inexplicable, that, as the author
of the Memoir says, they can best be told in the words of an officer who was
present – Captain Church, 2-24th Regiment.
“When
about half-past-nine that morning, Lord Chelmsford discovered the enemy he had
come in search of had disappeared, four guns R.A., two companies of the 24th
(my own and Captain Harvey’s) and about fifty Natal Native Sappers, the whole
under Colonel Harness, were ordered to march to a rendezvous in advance by a
different route to that taken by the remainder of the column. This was necessary as the ground could not go
over the ground taken by the latter. To
carry out this order, we had to retrace, for over two miles, the road we
marched out by in the morning and then bear to our left. This we did (having first halted for a short
time to let men and horses have a rest) and came about 12 0’clock to some
rising ground, when we again halted, as we were not certain of the whereabouts
of the rendezvous, and Major Black, A.Q,M.G., who had gone on to find it, had
not returned.
Almost
immediately after this halt, we heard the fire of cannon, and looking towards
the camp, which I do not think was more than eight miles off, saw shells
bursting against the hills to the left of it.
We did not know what to make of this, and were puzzled how to act, when
about one o’clock, a body of about 1,000 natives suddenly appeared in the plain
below and between us and the camp.
...I
galloped towards them, and when I was getting near, a European rode out to meet
me, and said: “The troop behind me are Commandant Browne’s Contingent, for
God’s sake; the camp is surrounded, and will be taken unless helped at
once.” I returned as fast as I could and
delivered this message to Colonel Harness, whom I found in conversation with
Major Gossett, A.D.C., and Major Black, both of whom had joined him during my
absence. Colonel Harness promptly said:
“We will march back; but Major Gosset ridiculed the idea, and advised him to
carry out his orders. Colonel Harness
then asked Major Black and myself our opinions.
We both agreed with him without hesitation. He then gave the order to return, and we got
off without a moment’s delay. It was
about 1.30 when we started. We had got
over about two miles of our way to the camp, when we were overtaken by Major
Gosset (who had ridden away from us in the direction of the General when we
started) and ordered by him to march back to the rendezvous. The order was
obeyed.”
The
foregoing narrative affords a striking illustration of the injustice which
persons in high official positions do no shrink from perpetrating on those who
are incapable of defending themselves.
If there
be one duty more than another which both the Secretary of State for War and the
Commander-in-Chief ought to regard as binding upon themselves, it is to see
that an officer who has fallen in the service of his country, and who, by the
completeness of his self-sacrifice, can speak no word for himself, shall not be
made the scapegoat for the offences of others.
No one who reads the narrative I have just quoted can have any doubt of
its accuracy. If untrue, its fictitious
character would have been demonstrated at once, by those who were said to have
been present on the occasion.
But neither Colonel Harness, Major Black,
Major Gosset, nor Captain Harvey have ever come forward to question or deny the
truth of Captain Church’s statements.
And it is clear that, if true, the responsibility for the slaughter of
Isandhlwana rests upon either Lord Chelmsford or Major Gosset.
The
author of the Memoir quotes upon this point the following from the London Statesman of February 1881, and there
are few, I think, who will not agree with the remarks of that journal:-
“Now the
point which imperatively needs clearing up is this: Did Major Gosset conceal
from Lord Chelmsford the urgent reason which had caused Colonel Harness to set
aside the General’s order to return?
Because, if he did, we have no hesitation in saying that he ought to be
dismissed from her Majesty’s service. OR
did Lord Chelmsford, knowing the appalling news which had reached Colonel
Harness, nevertheless send to him peremptory orders to rejoin
head-quarters. Because, if so, we have
no hesitation in saying that he ought to be dismissed the service.”
But
what, on the contrary, is the action of the his official personages in whose
hands the decision of such matters rest?
They promote Lord Chelmsford, and decorate him. They allow both him and Sir Bartle Frere to affirm,
without rebuke, that this brave and thoroughly capable soldier lost the battle
of Isandhlwana because he disobeyed orders, and acted in defiance of well-known
military maxims. They allow Lord
Chelmsford to state publicly in the House of Lords that, from the beginning to
the close of that disastrous day, he did not receive a single intimation that
the camp was attacked, and, much less, that it was in danger.
And
why? Because Lord Chelmsford was alive
and was a man of social influence, and the heroic Durnford had died in the
performance of his duty. There is no
difference here between Liberal and Tory Governments. Mr Gladstone has been as calmly indifferent
to the reputation of the fallen soldier as was Lord Beaconsfield; Mr Childers
has been as pathetic as was Colonel Stanley.
Happily for Great Britain, as for all other nations, her greatness and
her strength depend but in a small degree upon the few who reap the richest
harvests of rewards and honour – who are most conspicuous to the public
eye. Failure in this world is, I
suspect, most frequently the reward of the truest heroisms. Lord Chelmsford is a peer, but Colonel
Durnford and Lieutenant Scott, with those gallant Natal Carbineers who
dismounted and died at their bidding, are the real heroes of the Zulu campaign. For the rest, I hope that what I have written
respecting his Memoir will induce many to read it for themselves. It is an excellent piece of literary
workmanship, and makes the world acquainted with a character whom all British
soldiers will be glad to know and to honour.
R.D.O.
The Friend of India and Statesman newspaper has been digitised and uploaded
to findmypast.
The Friend of India was one of the oldest newspapers of India. The
journal was started in the early nineteenth century as a weekly journal, and
later incorporated The Indian Observer.
Published by the Serampore Press every Thursday morning, The Friend of India became a popular journal with
its wide coverage of Indian affairs and international news. In 1875 The Friend of India incorporated another
newspaper, The Statesman, founded in the same
year, was renamed The Friend of India, and
Statesman and came to be published every Friday from ‘the
Statesman and Friend of India Office’ in Calcutta. Later, it became a daily
newspaper. The journal published articles, reports, notes, notices, statistics,
advertisements, obituaries and correspondences.
Source: South Asia Archive
