E-text prepared by Jonathan Ingram, Christine P. Travers, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 25135-h.htm or 25135-h.zip:
(https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/5/1/3/25135/25135-h/25135-h.htm)
or
(https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/5/1/3/25135/25135-h.zip)
Transcriber's note:
Obvious printer's errors have been corrected; all other
inconsistencies are as in the original. The author's spelling
has been maintained.
Text enclosed by equal signs was in bold face (=bold=).
Text enclosed by asterisks was in an old font (*old font*).
Page 122: "After the treasure ship _Hermione_ had thus been
secured off Cadiz by the _Actaean_ and the _Favorite_" should
probably be "After the treasure ship _Hermione_ had thus been
secured off Cadiz by the _Active_ and the _Favorite_".
WITH THE GUARDS' BRIGADE
FROM BLOEMFONTEIN TO KOOMATI POORT AND BACK
by THE
REV. E. P. LOWRY
Senior Wesleyan Chaplain with the South African Field Force
London
Horace Marshall & Son
Temple House, Temple Avenue, E.C.
1902
TO
THE OFFICERS,
NON-COMMISSIONED OFFICERS, AND MEN
OF THE GUARDS' BRIGADE
THIS IMPERFECT RECORD OF THEIR HEROIC DARING, AND OF
THEIR YET MORE HEROIC ENDURANCE IS
RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED,
IN TOKEN OF SINCEREST ADMIRATION, AND IN GRATEFUL
APPRECIATION OF NUMBERLESS COURTESIES RECEIVED
BY ONE OF THEIR FELLOW TRAVELLERS AND
CHAPLAINS THROUGHOUT THE BOER
WAR OF 1899-1902
PREFACE
The story of my long tramp with the Guards' Brigade was in part told
through a series of letters that appeared in _The Methodist Recorder_,
_The Methodist Times_, and other papers. The first portion of that
series was republished in "Chaplains in Khaki," as also extensive
selections in "From Aldershot to Pretoria." In this volume, therefore,
to avoid needless repetition, the story begins with our triumphal
occupation of Bloemfontein, and is continued till after the time of
the breaking-up of the Guards' Brigade.
No one will expect from a chaplain a technical and critical account of
the complicated military operations he witnessed at the seat of war.
For that he has no qualifications. Nor, on the other hand, would it be
quite satisfactory if he wrote only of what the chaplains and other
Christian workers were themselves privileged to do in connection with
the war. That would necessitate great sameness, if not great tameness.
These pages are rather intended to set forth the many-sided life of
our soldiers on active service, their privations and perils, their
failings and their heroisms, their rare endurance, and in some cases
their unfeigned piety; that all may see what manner of men they were
who in so many instances laid down their lives in the defence of the
empire; and amid what stupendous difficulties they endeavoured to do
their duty.
We owe it to the fact that these men have volunteered in such numbers
for military service that Britain alone of all European nations has
thus far escaped the curse of the conscription. In that sense,
therefore, they are the saviours and substitutes of the entire manhood
of our nation. If they had not consented of their own accord to step
into the breach, every able Englishman now at his desk, behind his
counter, or toiling at his bench, must have run the risk of having had
so to do. We owe to these men more than we have ever realised. It is
but right, therefore, that more than ever they should henceforth live
in an atmosphere of grateful kindliness, of Christian sympathy and
effort.
"God bless you, Tommy Atkins,
_Here's your country's love to you!_"
My authorities for the statements made in the introductory chapter are
Fitzpatrick's "Pretoria from Within," and Martineau's "Life of Sir
Bartle Frere." For the verifying or correcting of my own facts and
figures, given later on, I have consulted Conan Doyle's "The Great
Boer War," Stott's "The Invasion of Natal," and almost all other
available literature relating to the subject.
EDWARD P. LOWRY.
PRETORIA, _March 1902_.
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER
Page
THE ULTIMATUM AND WHAT LED TO IT 1
Two Notable Dreamers--A Bankrupt Republic--The Man who
Schemed as well as Dreamed--The Gold Plague--Hated Johannesburg
--Boer preparations for War--Coming events cast their shadows
before--The Ultimatum--The Rallying of the Clans--The
Rousing of the Colonies.
CHAPTER I
ON THE WAY TO BLOEMFONTEIN, AND IN IT! 14
A capital little Capital--Famished Men and Famine Prices--
Republican Commandeering--A Touching Story--The Price of
Milk.
CHAPTER II
A LONG HALT 24
Refits--Remounts--Regimental Pets--Civilian Hospitality and
Soldiers' Homes--Soldiers' Christian Association Work--
Rudyard Kipling's Mistake--All Fools' Day--Eastertide in
Bloemfontein--The Epidemic and the Hospitals--All hands and
houses to the rescue--A sad sample of Enteric--Church of
England Chaplains at work.
CHAPTER III
THROUGH WORLDS UNKNOWN AND FROM WORLDS UNKNOWN 45
A Pleasure Jaunt--Onwards, but Whither!--That Pom-Pom again
--A Problem not quite solved--A Touching Sight--Rifle Firing
and Firing Farms--Boer Treachery and the White Flag--The Pet
Lamb still lives and learns--Right about face--From Worlds
Unknown--The Bushmen and their Australian Chaplains.
CHAPTER IV
QUICK MARCH TO THE TRANSVAAL 57
A Comedy--A Tragedy--A Wide Front and a Resistless Force--
Brandfort--"Stop the War" Slanders--A Prisoner who tried to
be a Poet--Militant Dutch Reformed Predikants--Our Australian
Chaplain's pastoral experiences--The Welsh Chaplain.
CHAPTER V
TO THE VALSCH RIVER AND THE VAAL 70
The Sand River Convention--Railway Wrecking and Repairing--
The Tale, and Tails, of a Singed Overcoat--Lord Roberts as
Hospital Visitor--President Steyn's Sjambok--A Sunday at last
that was also a Sabbath--Military Police on the March--A
General's glowing eulogy of the Guards--Good News by the way--
Over the Vaal at last.
CHAPTER VI
A CHAPTER ABOUT CHAPLAINS 88
A Chaplain who found the Base became the Front--Pathetic Scenes
in Hospital--A Battlefield Scene no less Pathetic--Look on
this Picture, and on that--A third-class Chaplain who proved a
first-rate Chaplain--Running in the Wrong Man--A Wainman who
proved a real Waggoner--Three bedfellows in a barn--A
fourth-class Chaplain that was also a first-rate Chaplain--A
Parson Prisoner in the hands of the Boers--Caring for the
Wounded--How the Chaplain's own Tent was bullet-riddled--A
Sample Set of Sunday Services.
CHAPTER VII
THE HELPFUL WORK OF THE OFFICIATING CLERGY 103
At Cape Town and Wynberg--Saved from Drowning to sink in
Hospital--A Pleasant Surprise--The Soldiers' Reception
Committee--The other way about--Our near kinship to the Boers
--More good Work on our right Flank.
CHAPTER VIII
GETTING TO THE GOLDEN CITY 113
An elaborate night toilet--Capturing Clapham Junction--Dear
diet and dangerous--No Wages but the Sjambok--The Gold Mines
--The Soldiers' Share--The Golden City--Astonishing the
Natives.
CHAPTER IX
PRETORIA--THE CITY OF ROSES 127
Whit-Monday and Wet Tuesday--"Light after Dark"--Why the
Surrender?--Taking Possession--"Resurgam"--A Striking
Incident--No Canteens and no Crime.
CHAPTER X
PRETORIAN INCIDENTS AND IMPRESSIONS 142
The State's Model School--Rev. Adrian Hoffmeyer--The
Waterfall Prisoners--A Soldier's Hymn--A big Supper Party--
The Soldiers' Home--Mr and Mrs Osborn Howe--A Letter from
Lord Kitchener--Also from Lord Roberts--A Song in praise of
De Wet--Cordua and his Conspiracy--Hospital Work in Pretoria
--The Wear and Tear of War--The Nursing Sisters--A Surprise
Packet--Soldierly Gratitude--_The Ladysmith Lyre_.
CHAPTER XI
FROM PRETORIA TO BELFAST 169
The Boer way of saying "Bosh"--News from a far Country
--Further fighting--Touch not, taste not, handle not--More
Treachery and still more--The root of the matter--A Tight Fit
--Obstructives on the Rail--Middleburg and the Doppers--
August Bank Holiday--Blowing up Trains--A peculiar Mothers'
Meeting--Aggressive Ladies--A Dutch Deacon's Testimony--A
German Officer's Testimony.
CHAPTER XII
THROUGH HELVETIA 190
The Fighting near Belfast--Feeding under Fire--A German
Doctor's Confession--Friends in need are Friends indeed--The
Invisible Sniper's Triumph--"He sets the mournful Prisoners
free"--More Boer Slimness--A Boer Hospital--Foreign
Mercenaries--A wounded Australian--Hotel Life on the Trek--
A Sheep-pen of a Prison--Pretty Scenery and Superb.
CHAPTER XIII
WAR'S WANTON WASTE 210
A Surrendered Boer General--Two Unworthy Predikants--Two
Notable Advocates of Clemency--Mines without Men, and Men
without Meat--Much Fat in the Fire--More Fat and Mightier
Flames--A Welcome Lift by the Way--"Rags and Tatters, get ye
gone!"--Destruction and still more Destruction--At Koomati
Poort--Two Notable Fugitives--The Propaganda of the Africander
Bond--Ex-President Steyn--Paul Botha's opinion of this
Ex-President.
CHAPTER XIV
FROM PORTUGUESE AFRICA TO PRETORIA 231
Staggering Humanity--Food for Flames--A Crocodile in the
Koomati--A Hippopotamus in the Koomati--A Via Dolorosa--
Over the Line--Westward Ho!--Ruined Farms and Ruined Firms--
Farewell to the Guards' Brigade!
CHAPTER XV
A WAR OF CEASELESS SURPRISES 245
Exhaustlessness of Boer resources--The Peculiarity of Boer
Tactics--The Surprisers Surprised--Train Wrecking--The
Refugee Camps--The Grit of the Guards--The Irregulars--The
Testimony of the Cemetery--Death and Life in Pretoria.
CHAPTER XVI
PRETORIA AND THE ROYAL FAMILY 261
Suzerainty turned to Sovereignty--Prince Christian Victor--A
Royal Funeral--A Touching Story--The Death of the Queen--
The King's Coronation.
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER
THE ULTIMATUM AND WHAT LED TO IT
When the late Emperor of the French was informed, on the eve of the
Franco-German War, that not so much as a gaiter button would be found
wanting if hostilities were at once commenced, soon all France found
itself, with him, fatally deceived. But when the Transvaal Burghers
boasted that they were "ready to give the British such a licking as
they had never had before," it proved no idle vaunting. Whether the
average Boer understood the real purpose for which he was called to
arms seems doubtful; but his leaders made no secret of their intention
to drive the hated "Roineks" into the sea, and to claim, as the
notorious "Bond" frankly put it, "all South Africa for the
Africanders." The Rev. Adrian Hoffmeyer of the Dutch Reformed Church
freely admits that the watchword of the Western Boers was "Tafelburg
toc," that is, "To Table Mountain"; and that their commandant said to
him, "We will not rest till our flag floats there."
Similarly on the eastern side it was their confident boast that
presently they would be "eating fish and drinking coffee at sea-side
Durban." There would thus be one flag floating over all South Africa;
and that flag not the Union Jack but its supplanter.
[Sidenote: _Two notable Dreamers._]
Now the Dutch have undoubtedly as absolute a right to dream dreams of
wide dominion as we ourselves have; and this particular dream had no
less undeniably been the chief delight of some among them for more
than a decade twice told.
Even PRESIDENT BRAND, of the Orange Free State, referring to Lord
Carnarvon's pet idea of a federated South Africa, said: "His great
scheme is a united South Africa _under the British Flag_. He dreams of
it and so do I; but _under the flag of South Africa_." Much in the
same strain PRESIDENT BURGERS, of the Transvaal Republic, when
addressing a meeting of his countrymen in Holland, said: "In that
far-off country the inhabitants dream of a future in which the people
of Holland will recover their former greatness." He was convinced that
within half a century there would be in South Africa a population of
eight millions; all speaking the Dutch language; a _second_ Holland,
as energetic and liberty-loving as the first; but greater in extent,
and greater in power.
[Sidenote: _A Bankrupt Republic._]
Nevertheless, in this far-seeing President's day, the Transvaal, after
fourteen years of doubtful independence, reached in 1877 its lowest
depths of financial and political impotency. Its valiant burghers were
vanquished in one serious conflict with the natives; and, emboldened
thereby, the Zulus were audaciously threatening to eat them up, when
Shepstone appeared upon the scene. "I thank my father Shepstone for
his restraining message," said Cetewayo. "The Dutch have tired me out;
and I intended to fight with them once, _only once_, and to drive them
over the Vaal." The jails were thrown open because food was no longer
obtainable for the prisoners. The State officials, including the
President, knew not where to secure their stipends, and were
hopelessly at variance among themselves. The Transvaal one-pound notes
were selling for a single shilling, and the State treasury contained
only twelve shillings and sixpence wherewith to pay the interest on a
comparatively heavy State debt, besides almost innumerable other
claims.
No wonder, therefore, that Burgers, in disgust, declared he would
sooner be a policeman under a strong government. "Matters are as bad
as they ever can be," said he; "they cannot be worse!" Hence its
annexation, in 1877, by Sir Theophilus Shepstone, without the
assistance of a solitary soldier, but with the eager assent of
thousands of the burghers, bade fair to prove the salvation of the
Transvaal, and probably would have done, had the easily-to-be-obtained
consent of the Volksraad been at once sought, and Lord Carnarvon's
promise of speedy South African Federation, together with a generous
measure of local self-government, been promptly redeemed. But European
complications, with serious troubles on the Indian frontier, caused
interminable delay in the maturing of this scheme; and as the
disappointed Boers grew restive, a "Hold your Jaw" Act was passed,
making it a penal offence for any Transvaaler even to discuss such
questions. In our simplicity we sit upon the safety valve and then
wonder why the boiler bursts. To the "Hold your Jaw" policy the Boer
reply was an appeal to arms; and at Majuba in the spring of 1881 their
rifles said what their jaws were forbidden to say. Majuba was indeed a
mere skirmish, an affair of outposts; but Magersfontein and Spion Kop
are the legitimate sons of Majuba.
[Sidenote: _The man who Schemed as well as Dreamed._]
Napoleon, with possibly a veiled reference to himself, once said to
the French people, "You have the men, but where is _The Man_?" The
Boers in the day of their uprising against British rule found "The
Man" in PAUL STEPHANUS KRUGER. To all South Africa a veritable "man of
Destiny" has he proved to be; and for eighteen successive years, as
their honoured President he has ruled his people with an absoluteness
no European potentate could possibly approach. By birth a British
subject, and for a brief while after the annexation a paid official of
the British Government, he yet seems all his life to have been a
consistent hater of all things British. When only ten years old, a
tattered, bare-legged, unlettered lad, he joined "The great Trek"
which in 1837 sought on the dangerous and dreary veldt beyond the Vaal
a refuge from British rule. He it was who, surviving the terrors of
those tragic times and trained in that stern school, became like Brand
and Burgers a dreamer of dreams. He lived to baffle by his superior
shrewdness, or slimness, all the arts of English diplomacy. In his
later years this President manifestly deemed himself chosen of Heaven
to make an end of British rule from the Zambesi to the sea. "The
Transvaal shall never be shut up in a kraal," said he. A Sovereign
International State he declared it was, or should be, with free access
to the ocean; and how astonishingly near he came to the accomplishment
of these bold aims we now know to our exceeding cost. Nevertheless, to
this persistent dreamer of dreams the two South African Republics owe
their extinction; while the British Empire owes to him more than to
any other living man its fast approaching Federation.
With surprising secrecy and success the Transvaal officials prepared
for the inevitable conflict which the attempted fulfilment of such
bold dreams involved, and in that preparation were rendered essential
aid, first by the discovery, not far from Pretoria, of the richest
goldfield in the whole world, which soon provided them with the
necessary means; and next by the Jameson Raid, which provided them
with the necessary excuse.
To Steevens, the lamented correspondent of _The Daily Mail_, a Dopper
editor and predikant said, "I do not think the Transvaal Government
has been wise, and I told them they made a great mistake when they let
people come in to the mines. _This gold will ruin you; to remain
independent you must remain poor_"! Perhaps so! but the modern world
is not built that way. No trekkers nowadays may take possession of
half a continent, forbid all others to come in, and right round the
frontier post up notices "Trespassers will be prosecuted." Even
Robinson Crusoe had not long landed on his desolate isle when he was
startled by the sight of a strange footprint on the seashore sand.
Welcome or unwelcome, somebody else had come! Crusoe and his man
Friday might set up no exclusive rights in a heritage that for a brief
while seemed all their own. The Boer with his Kaffir bondsman has been
compelled to learn the same distasteful lesson. The wealth of the
Witwaters Rand was for those who could win it; and for that stupendous
task the Boer had neither the necessary aptitude nor the necessary
capital. It was not, therefore, for him to echo the cry of Edie
Ochiltree when he found hid treasure amid the ruins of St Roth's
Abbey--"Nae halvers and quarters,--hale o' mine ain and nane o' my
neighbours." The bankrupt Boer had to let his enterprising neighbour
in to do the digging, or get no gold at all.
[Sidenote: _Hated Johannesberg._]
Nevertheless, the upspringing as by magic of the great city of
Johannesberg in the midst of the dreary veldt filled Kruger's soul
with loathing. When once asked to permit prospecting for minerals
around Pretoria, he replied, "Look at Johannesberg! We have enough
gold and gold seekers in the country already!" The presence of this
ever-growing multitude was felt to be a perpetual menace to Dutch, and
more especially to Dopper supremacy. So, in his frankly confessed
detestation of them, their Dopper President for five years at a
stretch never once came near them, and when at last he ventured to
halt within twenty miles of their great city it was thus he commenced
his address to the crowd at Krugersdorp:--"Burghers, friends,
_thieves_, _murderers_, _newcomers_, and others." The reek of the Rand
was evidently even then in his nostrils; and the mediaeval saint that
could smell a heretic nine miles off was clearly akin to Kruger.
Unfortunately for him the "newcomers" outnumbered the old by five to
one, and were a bewilderingly mixed assortment, representing almost
every nationality under the whole heaven. In what had suddenly become
the chief city of the Transvaal, with a white population of over
50,000, only seven per cent. were Dutch, and sixty-five per cent. were
British. These aliens from many lands paid nearly nine-tenths of the
taxes, yet were persistently denied all voice alike in national and
municipal affairs. "Rights!" exclaimed the angry President when
appealed to for redress, "Rights! They shall win them only over my
dead body!" At whatever cost he was stubbornly resolved that as long
as he lived the tail should still wag the dog instead of the dog the
tail; and that a continually dwindling minority of simple farmer folk
should rule an ever-growing majority of enterprising city men. Though
the political equality of all white inhabitants was the underlying
condition on which self-government was restored to the Transvaal, what
the Doppers had won by bullets they would run no risk of losing
through the ballot box, and so one measure of exclusion after another
rapidly became law. When reminded that in other countries Outlanders
were welcomed and soon given the franchise, the shrewd old President
replied, "Yes! but in other countries the newcomers do not _outswamp_
the old burghers." The whole grievance of the Boers is neatly summed
up in that single sentence; and so far it proves them well entitled to
our respectful pity.
It was, however, mere fatalism resisting fate when to a deputation of
complaining Outlanders Kruger said "Cease holding public meetings! Go
back and tell your people I will never give them anything!" Similarly
when in 1894 35,000 adult male Outlanders humbly petitioned that they
might be granted some small representation in the councils of the
Republic, which would have made loyal burghers of them all, the
short-sighted President contended that he might just as well haul down
the Transvaal flag at once. There was a strong Dopper conviction that
to grant the franchise on any terms to this alien crowd would speedily
degrade the Transvaal into a mere Johannesberg Republic; and they
would sooner face any fate than that; so the Raad, with shouts of
derision, rejected the Outlanders' petition as a saucy request to
commit political suicide. They felt no inclining that way!
Nevertheless one of their number ventured to say, "Now our country is
gone. Nothing can settle this but fighting!" And that man was a
prophet.
[Sidenote: _Boer preparations for War._]
For that fighting the President and his Hollander advisers began to
prepare with a timeliness and thoroughness we can but admire, however
much in due time we were made to smart thereby. Through the suicide of
a certain State official it became known that in 1894--long therefore
before the Raid--no less than L500,000 of Transvaal money had been
sent to Europe for secret uses. Those secret uses, however, revealed
themselves to us in due time at Magersfontein and Colenso. The
Portuguese customs entries at Delagoa Bay will certify that from 1896
to 1898 at least 200,000 rifles passed through that port to the
Transvaal. It was an unexampled reserve for states so small. The
artillery, too, these peace-loving Boers laid up in store against the
time to come, not only exceeded in quantity, but also _outranged_, all
that British South Africa at that time possessed. Their theology might
be slightly out-of-date, but in these more material things the Boers
were distinctly up-to-date. For many a week after the war began both
the largest and the smallest shells that went curving across our
battlefields were theirs; while many of our guns were mere popguns
firing smoky powder, and almost as useless as catapults. It was not a
new Raid these costly weapons were purchased to repel; neither men nor
nations employ sledge-hammers to drive home tinned-tacks. It was a
mighty Empire they were intended to assail; and a mighty Republic they
were intended to create.
When the fateful hour arrived for the hurling of the Ultimatum, in
very deed "not a gaiter button" was found wanting on their side; and
every fighting man was well within reach of his appointed post.
Fierce-looking farmers from the remotest veldt, and sleek urban
Hollanders, German artillerists, French generals, Irish-Americans,
Colonial rebels, all were ready. The horse and his rider, prodigious
supplies of food stuffs, and every conceivable variety of warlike
stores, were planted at sundry strategic points along the Natal and
Cape Colony frontiers. War then waited on a word and that word was
soon spoken!
[Sidenote: _Coming events cast their shadows before._]
As early as September 18th, 1899, the Transvaal sent an unbending and
defiant message to the British Government. On September 21st the
Orange Free State, after forty years of closest friendship with
England, officially resolved to cast in her lot with the Transvaal
against England. On September 29th through railway communication
between Natal and the Transvaal was stopped by order of the Transvaal
Government. On September 30th twenty-six military trains left Pretoria
and Johannesberg for the Natal border; and that same day saw 16,000
Boers thus early massed near Majuba Hill. Yet at that very time the
British forces in South Africa were absolutely and absurdly inadequate
not merely for defiance but even for defence. On October 3rd, a full
week before the delivery of the Ultimatum, the Transvaal mail train to
the Cape was stopped at the Transvaal frontier, and the English gold
it carried, valued at L500,000, was seized by the Transvaal
Government. Whether that capture be regarded merely as a premature act
of war or as highway robbery, it leaves no room for doubt as to which
side in this quarrel is the aggressor; and when at last the challenge
came, even chaplains could with a clear conscience, though by no means
with a light heart, set out for the seat of war.
[Sidenote: _The Ultimatum._]
Surely never since the world began was such an Ultimatum presented to
one of the greatest Powers on earth by what were supposed to be two of
the weakest. At the very time that armed and eager burghers were thus
massing threateningly on our frontiers, the Queen it will be
remembered was haughtily commanded to withdraw from those frontiers
the pitifully few troops then guarding them; to recall, in the sight
of all Europe, every soldier that in the course of the previous
twelvemonth had been sent to our South African Colonies; and solemnly
to pledge herself, at Boer bidding, that those then on the sea should
not be suffered to set foot on African soil. Moreover, so urgent was
this audacious demand that Pretoria allowed London only forty-eight
hours in which to decide what should be its irrevocable doom, to lay
aside the pride of empire, or pay the price of it in blood.
Superb in its audacity was that demand: and, if war was indeed fated
to come, this daring challenge was for England as serviceable a deed
as unwitting foemen ever wrought.
[Sidenote: _The rallying of the Clans._]
It put a sudden end for a season to all controversy. It rallied in
defence of our Imperial heritage almost every class, and every creed.
It thrilled us all, like the blast of the warrior horn of Roderick
Dhu, which transformed the very heather of the Highlands into fighting
men. As the soldiers' laureate puts it "Duke's son and cook's son,"
with rival haste responded to the martial call. To serve their
assailed and sorrowing Queen, royal court and rural cottage gave
freely of their best. It intensified the patriotism of us all; and
probably never, since the days of the Armada, had the United Kingdom
of Great Britain and Ireland found itself so essentially united.
[Sidenote: _The rousing of the Colonies._]
The effect of the Ultimatum throughout the length and breadth of
Greater Britain was no less remarkable than its first results at home.
Not only the two Colonies that, alas, were soon to be overrun by
hostile hordes, and mercilessly looted, but also those farthest
removed from the fray, instantly took fire, and burned with
imperialistic zeal that stinted neither men nor means.
"A varied host, from kindred realms they come,
Brethren in arms, but rivals in renown."
The declaration of war united the ends of the earth in a common
enthusiasm, and sent a strange throb of brotherhood right round the
globe. The whole empire at last awoke to a sense of its essential
oneness. Australians and Canadians, men from Burma, from India and
Ceylon, speedily joined hands on the far distant veldt in defence of
what they proudly felt to be their heritage as well as ours. Their
presence in the very forefront of the fray betokened the advent of a
new era. Nobler looking men, or men of a nobler spirit, were never
brought together at the unfurling of any banner. They were the outcome
of competitions strangely keen and close. Sydney for instance called
for five hundred volunteers; but within a few days _three thousand_
five hundred valiant men were clamouring for acceptance. So was it in
Montreal. So it was everywhere. Often too at no slight financial
sacrifice was the post of peril sought. As a type of many more, I was
told of an Australian doctor who paid a substitute L300 to carry on
his practice, while he as a private joined the fighting ranks and
faced cheerily the manifold privations of the hungry veldt. Rich is
the empire that owns such sons; and myriads of them in the hour of
impending conflict were ready to say--
"War? We would rather peace! But, MOTHER, if fight we must,
There are none of your sons on whom you can lean with a surer trust.
Bone of your bone are we; and in death would be dust of your dust!"
It was the Ultimatum that thus linked to each other and to us those
loyal hearts that longed to keep the empire whole; and thus President
Kruger in his blindness became Greater Britain's boundless benefactor.
CHAPTER I
ON THE WAY TO BLOEMFONTEIN, AND IN IT
"For old times' sake
Don't let enmity live;
For old times' sake
Say you will forget and forgive.
Life is too short for quarrel;
Hearts are too precious to break;
Shake hands and let us be friends
For old times' sake!"
So gaily sang the Scots Guards as, in hope of speedy triumph and
return, we left Southampton for Kruger's Land on the afternoon of
October 21st, 1899.
[Illustration: _From a photograph by Mr Westerman_
A Magersfontein Boer Trench.]
Our last evening in England brought us the welcome tidings that on
that day, the Boers who had thus early invaded Natal with a view to
annexing it, had been badly beaten at Talana Hill. That seemed a good
beginning; and it sent us to sea with lightsome hearts; nor was it
till long after we landed in South Africa that we learned what had
really taken place during our cheerful voyage;--that on the very day
we embarked, the battle of Elandslaagte had been won by our
hard-pressed comrades, but at a cost of 260 casualties; and that the
very next day--The _Nubia's_ first Sunday at sea--Dundee with all its
stores had perforce been abandoned by 4000 of our retreating troops,
for whose relief, two days later, Tinta Inyoni was fought by General
French; that on Oct. 29th while we were spending a tranquil Sunday
in St Vincent's harbour there commenced the struggle that culminated
in the Nicholson's Nek disaster; and that on Nov. 13th, while we were
awaiting orders in Table Bay, the capture of our armoured train at
Chieveley took place. Clearly it was blissful ignorance that begat our
hopes of brief absence from home, and of the easy vanquishing of our
hardy foes!
Two days later I reached the Orange River; and, on the courteous
suggestion of Lord Methuen, was attached to the mess of the 3rd
Grenadier Guards, as was also my "guide, philosopher and friend" the
Rev. T. F. Falkner our Anglican chaplain. Here I left my invaluable
helper, Army Scripture Reader Pearce; while, with the Guards' Brigade
now made complete by the arrival of the 1st and 2nd Coldstream
battalions, I pushed forward to be present at the four battles which
followed in startlingly swift succession, and which I have already
with sufficient fulness described in "Chaplains in Khaki," viz.
Belmont on Nov. 23rd, Graspan on Nov. 25th, Modder River on Nov. 28th,
and the Magersfontein defeat on Dec. 11th, for which, however, the
next Amajuba Day--Feb. 27th, 1900--brought us ample compensation in
the surrender of Cronje and his 4000 veterans, with the ever memorable
sequel to that surrender, the occupation of Bloemfontein by the
British forces.
[Sidenote: _A capital little Capital._]
It would probably be difficult to find anywhere under the sun a more
prosperous and promising little city, or one better governed than
Bloemfontein, which the Guards entered on the afternoon of Tuesday,
March 13th, 1900. There is not a scrap of cultivated land anywhere
around it. It is very literally a child of the veldt; and still clings
strangely to its nursing mother. Indeed the veldt is not only round
about it on every side, but even asserts its presence in many an
unfinished street. You are still on the veldt in the midst of the
city; and the characteristic kopje is in full view here, there, and
everywhere. On one side of the city is the old fort built by the
British more than fifty years ago, and soon after vacated by them, but
it is erected of course on a kopje, on one slope of which, part of the
city now stands. On the opposite side of the town is a new fort; but
that also crowns a kopje. This metropolis of what was then the Orange
Free State, thus intensely African in its situation and surroundings,
was nevertheless an every way worthy centre of a worthy State.
Many of its public buildings are notably fine, as for instance the
Government Offices over which it was my memorable privilege to see the
Union Jack unceremoniously hoisted; and the Parliament Hall, on the
opposite side of the same road, erected some twelve years ago at a
cost of L80,000. The Grey College, which accommodates a hundred boy
boarders, is an edifice of which almost any city would be proud; and
"The Volk's Hospital," that is "The People's Hospital," is also an
altogether admirable institution. From the commencement of the war
this was used for the exclusive benefit of sick or wounded Boers and
of captured Britishers who were in the same sore plight. Among these I
found many English officers, who all bore witness to the kind and
skilful treatment they had uniformly received from the hospital
authorities; but when the Boer forces hurried away from Bloemfontein
they were compelled to leave their sick and wounded behind; with the
result that as at Jacobsdal, the English patients at once ceased to be
prisoners, while the Boer patients at once became prisoners. So do the
wheels of war and fortune go whirling round!
With a white population of under ten thousand all told, a large
proportion is of British descent; and presently a positively
surprising number of Union Jacks sprang forth from their hiding-places
and fluttered merrily all over the town. Everybody was thankful that
no bombardment had taken place; but many even of the British residents
regarded with sincere regret the final extinction of the independence
of this once self-governed and well-governed Republic.
[Sidenote: _Famished men and famine prices._]
The story has now everywhere been told of the soldier lad who, when he
caught sight of his first swarm of locusts, wonderingly exclaimed as
he noted their peculiar colour, "I'm blest if the butterflies out here
haven't put on khaki." Bloemfontein very soon did the same. Khaki of
various shades and various degrees of dirtiness saluted me at every
point. Khaki men upon khaki men swarmed everywhere. Brigade followed
brigade in apparently endless succession; but all clad in the same
irrepressible colour, till it became quite depressing. No wonder the
townspeople soon took to calling the soldiers "locusts," not merely
out of compliment to the gay colour of their costume, but also as
aptly descriptive of their apparent countlessness. They seemed like
the sands by the seashore, innumerable. They bade fair to swallow up
the place.
That last expression, however, suggests yet another point of
resemblance. For longer than these men seemed able to remember, the
order of the day had been "long marches and short rations." When,
therefore, they reached this welcome halting-place they were simply
famished; insatiably hungry, they eagerly spent their last coin in
buying up whatever provisions had fortunately escaped the
commandeering of the Boers. There was no looting, no lawlessness of
any kind; and many a civilian gave his last loaf to a starving
trooper. There was soon a famine in the place and no train to bring us
fresh supplies. All the bakeries of the town were commandeered by the
new government for the benefit of the troops; but like the five loaves
of the gospel story, "What were they among so many?" I saw the men,
like swarms of bees, clustering around the doors and clambering on to
the window-sills of these establishments, enjoying apparently the
smell of the baking bread, and cherishing the vain hope of being able
to purchase a loaf when at last the ovens were emptied.
So too at the grocers' shops, a "tail" was daily formed outside the
door, which at intervals was cautiously opened to let in a few at a
time of these clamorous customers, who presently retired by the back
door, laden more or less with such articles as happened to be still in
store; but muttering as they came out "this is like Klondyke," with
evident reference not to Klondyke gold, but to Klondyke prices. It was
not the traders that needed protection as against the troopers, but
the troopers that needed protection as against some of the traders.
Even proclamation prices were alarmingly high, as for instance, a
shilling for a pound of sugar. Sixpence was the popular price for a
cup of tea, often without milk or sugar. The quartermaster whose tent
I shared was charged four shillings for a single "whisky and soda,"
and was informed that if he wanted a bottle of whisky the price would
be thirty-five shillings. On such terms tradesmen who, before the war,
had laid in large and semi-secret stores now reaped a magnificent
harvest. One provision merchant was reported to have thus sold L700
worth of goods before breakfast on a certain Saturday morning, in
which case he would perhaps reckon that on that particular date his
breakfast had been well earned. It probably meant in part a wholesale
army order; but even in that case it would be for cash, and not a case
of commandeering after the fashion of the Boers.
A crippled Scandinavian tailor told me that his constant charge,
whether to Colonels or Kaffirs, was two shillings an hour; and that he
thought his needle served him badly if it did not bring him in L6 a
week. About the same time a single-handed but nimble-fingered barber
claimed to have made L100 in one week out of the invading British; but
his victims declared that his price was a shilling for a shave and two
shillings for a clip. At those figures the seemingly impossible comes
to pass--if only customers are plentiful enough. Oh for a business in
Bloemfontein!
[Sidenote: _Republican Commandeering._]
The Republicans of South Africa have always been credited with an
ingrained objection to paying rates and taxes even in war time; but
they frankly recognise the reasonableness of governmental
commandeering, and apparently submit to it without a murmur;
especially when it hits most heavily the stranger within their gates.
Accordingly, the war-law of the Orange Free State authorises the
commandeering without payment of every available man, and of all
available material of whatsoever kind within thirty days of war being
declared. During those thirty days, therefore, the war-broom sweeps
with a most commendable thoroughness; and all the more so, because
after that date everything must be paid for at market values. Why pay,
if being a little "previous" will serve the same purpose?
A gentleman farmer whom it was my privilege to visit, some fifteen
miles out from Bloemfontein, told me he had been thus commandeered to
the extent of about L3100; the value of waggons, oxen, and produce, he
was compelled gratuitously to supply to his non-taxing government. A
specially prosperous store-keeper in the town was said to have had
L600 worth of goods taken from him in the same way; but then, of
course, he had the compensating comfort of feeling that he was not
being taxed! Even Republics cannot make war quite without cost; and by
this time some are beginning to discover that it is the most ruinously
expensive of all pursuits.
The Republican conscription was equally wide reaching; for every
capable man between the ages of sixteen and sixty was required to
place himself and his rifle at the service of the State. Even sons of
British parentage, being burghers, were not allowed to cross the
border and so escape this, in many a case, hateful obligation. Their
life was forfeit, if they sought to evade the dread duties of the
fighting line, and refused to level reluctant rifles against men
speaking the same mother tongue. Some few, however, secured the rare
privilege of acting simply as despatch riders, or as members of the
Boer ambulance corps.
[Sidenote: _A touching story._]
One of the sons of my Methodist farmer friend had been thus employed
at Magersfontein, but had now seized the first opportunity of taking
the oath and returning to his home. With his own lips he told me that
on that fatal field he had found the body of an English officer, in
whose cold hand lay an open locket, and in the locket two portraits;
one the portrait of a fair English lady, and the other that of a still
fairer English child. So, before the eyes of one dying on the
blood-stained veldt did visions of home and loved ones flit. Life's
last look turned thither! In war, the cost in cash is clearly the cost
that is of least consequence. Who can appraise aright the price of
that one locket?
Yet, appositely enough, as, that same evening, I was being driven back
to town in a buggy and four, a little maiden--perchance like the
maiden of the locket--wonderingly exclaimed as she watched the sun
sink in radiance behind a neighbouring hill: "Why! just look! The sky
is English!" "How so?" asked her father. "Can't you see?" said the
child; "it is all red, white, and blue!" which indeed it was!
[Sidenote: _The price of milk._]
But our title to this newly-conquered territory was by no means quite
so unchallenged as such a complacent and complimentary sky might have
led one to suppose. The heavens above us were for the moment English,
but scarcely the earth beneath us; and certainly not the land beyond
us. Great even thus far had been the price of conquest; but the full
sum was not yet ready for the reckoning. No new Magersfontein awaited
us, and no new Paardeberg; but the incessant risking of precious life,
and much loss thereof in other fashions than those of the battlefield.
Possibly one of the most distressing cases of that kind occurred only
two days after near Karee, a few miles beyond Bloemfontein. The
officers of the Guards had become famous for their care of their men,
and for their constant endeavour to keep them well served with
supplementary supplies of food. They foraged right and left, and
bargained with the farmers for all available milk and butter and
cheese and bread. Men on the march cannot always live on rations only,
and good leadership looks after the larder as well as after the lives
of the men. On this gracious errand there rode forth from the camp as
fine a group of regimental officers as could possibly be found; to
wit, the colonel of the Grenadiers, his adjutant and transport officer
who, beyond most, were choice young men and goodly; also the colonel
of one of the Coldstream battalions, and one orderly. Hiding near a
neighbouring kopje was a small body of Zarps watching for a chance of
sniping or capturing a seceding Boer. Of them our officers caught
sight, and with characteristic British pluck sought to capture them.
But on the kopje the Boers found effectual cover, plied their rifles
vigorously and presently captured all their would-be captors. As at
Belmont, and on the same day of the month, the colonel of the
Grenadiers was wounded in two places; the transport officer, the son
of one of our well-known generals, lost his right arm; the adjutant, a
younger brother of a noted earl, was shot through the heart, and the
life of the other colonel was for a while despaired of. It was in some
senses the saddest disaster that had yet befallen the Guards' Brigade;
and it was the outcome not of some decisive battle, but of a kindly
quest for milk.