It was from Mr. Fynney that I heard the story of the execution by Cetewayo of the man who appeared before him with the ornaments of Umbelazi, announcing that he had killed the prince with his own hand. Of course, this tale, as Mr. Quatermain points out, bears a striking resemblance to that recorded in the Old Testament in connection with the death of King Saul.
It by no means follows, however, that it is therefore apocryphal; indeed, Mr. Fynney assured me that it was quite true, although, if he gave me his authorities, I cannot remember them after a lapse of more than thirty years.
The exact circumstances of Umbelazi’s death are unknown, but the general report was that he died, not by the assegais of the Usutu, but of a broken heart. Another story declares that he was drowned. His body was never found, and it is therefore probable that it sank in the Tugela, as is suggested in the following pages.
I have only to add that it is quite in accordance with Zulu beliefs that a man should be haunted by the ghost of one whom he has murdered or betrayed, or, to be more accurate, that the spirit (“umoya”) should enter into the slayer and drive him mad. Or, in such a case, that spirit might bring misfortune upon him, his family, or his tribe.
H. RIDER HAGGARD.
CONTENTS
I. ALLAN QUATERMAIN HEARS OF MAMEENA
II. THE MOONSHINE OF ZIKALI
III. THE BUFFALO WITH THE CLEFT HORN
IV. MAMEENA
V. TWO BUCKS AND THE DOE
VI. THE AMBUSH
VII. SADUKO BRINGS THE MARRIAGE GIFT
VIII. THE KING’S DAUGHTER
IX. ALLAN RETURNS TO ZULULAND
X. THE SMELLING-OUT
XI. THE SIN OF UMBELAZI
XII. PANDA’S PRAYER
XIII. UMBELAZI THE FALLEN
XIV. UMBEZI AND THE BLOOD-ROYAL
XV. MAMEENA CLAIMS THE KISS
XVI. MAMEENA–MAMEENA–MAMEENA!
CHAPTER I
ALLAN QUATERMAIN HEARS OF MAMEENA
We white people think that we know everything. For instance, we think that we understand human nature. And so we do, as human nature appears to us, with all its trappings and accessories seen dimly through the glass of our conventions, leaving out those aspects of it which we have forgotten or do not think it polite to mention. But I, Allan Quatermain, reflecting upon these matters in my ignorant and uneducated fashion, have always held that no one really understands human nature who has not studied it in the rough. Well, that is the aspect of it with which I have been best acquainted.
For most of the years of my life I have handled the raw material, the virgin ore, not the finished ornament that is smelted out of it–if, indeed, it is finished yet, which I greatly doubt. I dare say that a time may come when the perfected generations–if Civilisation, as we understand it, really has a future and any such should be allowed to enjoy their hour on the World–will look back to us as crude, half-developed creatures whose only merit was that we handed on the flame of life.
Maybe, maybe, for everything goes by comparison; and at one end of the ladder is the ape-man, and at the other, as we hope, the angel. No, not the angel; he belongs to a different sphere, but that last expression of humanity upon which I will not speculate. While man is man–that is, before he suffers the magical death-change into spirit, if such should be his destiny–well, he will remain man. I mean that the same passions will sway him; he will aim at the same ambitions; he will know the same joys and be oppressed by the same fears, whether he lives in a Kafir hut or in a golden palace; whether he walks upon his two feet or, as for aught I know he may do one day, flies through the air. This is certain: that in the flesh he can never escape from our atmosphere, and while he breathes it, in the main with some variations prescribed by climate, local law and religion, he will do much as his forefathers did for countless ages.
That is why I have always found the savage so interesting, for in him, nakedly and forcibly expressed, we see those eternal principles which direct our human destiny.