PRETORIAN INCIDENTS AND IMPRESSIONS
Pretoria is manifestly a city in process of being made, and has
probably in store a magnificent future, though at present the shanty
and the palace stand "cheek by jowl." Even the main roads leading into
the town seemed atrociously bad as judged by English standards, and
the paving of the principal streets was of a correspondingly perilous
type. Yet the public buildings already referred to were not the only
ones that claimed our commendation as signs of a progressive spirit.
The Government Printing Works are remarkably handsome and complete;
and while for educational purposes there is in Pretoria nothing quite
comparable to Grey College at Bloemfontein, the secondary education of
the late Republic's metropolis was well housed.
[Sidenote: _The State's Model School._]
There is, however, one building provided for that purpose which has
acquired an enduring interest of quite another kind, and which I
visited, when it became a hospital, with very mingled emotions. The
State's Model School, during the early stages of the war, was utilised
as a prison for the British officers captured by the Boers. How keenly
these brave men felt and secretly resented their ill-fortune they were
too proud to tell, but one of the noblest of them had become,
through the terrors of a disastrous fight, so piteously demented for a
while that he actually wore hanging from his neck a piece of cardboard
announcing that it was he who lost the guns at Colenso. Some of them
would rather have lost their lives than in such fashion have lost
their liberty, and the story which tells how three of them regained
that liberty by escaping from this very prison is one of the most
thrilling among all the records of the war. Most noted of the three is
Winston Churchill, whose own graphic pen has told how he eluded the
most vigilant search and finally reached the sea. But the adventures
of Captain Haldane and his non-commissioned companion reveal yet more
of daring and endurance. Captured at the same time as Churchill, and
through the same cause--the disaster on November 13th to the armoured
train at Chieveley--these two effected their escape long after the hue
and cry on the heels of Churchill had died away. Within what was
supposed to be a day or two of the removal of all the officers to a
more secure "birdcage" outside the town, those two gentlemen vanished
under the floor of their room, through a kind of tiny trap-door that I
have often seen, but which was then partly concealed by a bed, and was
apparently never noticed by their Boer custodians. In this prison
beneath a prison, damp and dark and dismal beyond all describing, and
where there was no room to stand erect, these two officers found
themselves doomed to dwell, not for days merely, but for weeks. They
were of course hunted for high and low, and sought in every
conceivable place except the right place. Food was guardedly passed
down to them by two or three brother officers who shared their secret,
and at last, more dead than alive, they emerged from their dungeon the
moment they discovered the building was deserted, and then daringly
faced the almost hopeless, yet successful, endeavour to smuggle
themselves to far-distant Delagoa Bay. Evidently the element of
romance has not yet died out of this prosaic age!
[Sidenote: _Rev. Adrian Hoffmeyer._]
Strangely sharing the fate of these British prisoners in this Model
School was a godly and gifted minister of the Dutch Reformed Church. A
Boer among Boers. He was never told why he was arrested by his brother
Boers, and though kept under lock and key for months, he was never
introduced to judge or jury. An advocate of peace, he was suspected of
British leanings, and so almost before the war commenced rough hands
were laid upon him. There was in the Transvaal a reign of terror.
Secret service men were everywhere, and no one's reputation was safe,
no one's position secure. In this land of newly-discovered gold men
were driven to discover that the most golden thing of all was discreet
silence on the part of those who differed from "the powers that be."
So he who simply sought to avert war was suspected of British
sympathies, and to his unutterable surprise presently found himself
the fellow prisoner of many a still more unfortunate British officer.
Of those officers, their character and intellectual attainments, he
speaks in terms of highest praise. Their enforced leisure they
devoted to various artistic and intellectual pursuits, and I have
myself seen an admirably elaborate and accurate map of the Republics,
covering the whole of a large classroom wall, drawn presumably from
joint memory by these officers, who by its aid were able to trace the
progress of the war as tidings filtered through to them by an
ingenious system of signalling practised by sympathetic friends
outside.
By those same officers this Dutchman was invited to become their
unofficial chaplain, and he writes of the devotional services
consequently arranged as among the chief delights of his life, the
favourite hymn he says being the following:--
Holy Father, in Thy mercy
Hear our anxious prayer.
Keep our loved ones, now far absent,
'Neath Thy care.
Jesus, Saviour, let Thy presence
Be their light and pride.
Keep, Oh keep them, in their weakness,
Near Thy side.
Holy Spirit, let Thy teaching
Sanctify their life.
Send Thy grace that they may conquer
In all strife.
It was to this much respected and much reviled predikant a Pretorian
high official said: "We were determined to let it drift to a rupture
with England, for then our dream would be realised of a Republic
reaching to Table Mountain"; but surely such a song and such a scene
in the State's Model School was a thing of which no man dreamed!
[Sidenote: _The Waterfall prisoners._]
The private soldiers who like these, their officers, had become
prisoners of war, were for greater security removed from their
racecourse camp to a huge prison-pen at the Waterfall, some ten or
twelve miles up the Pietersburg line. They numbered in all about three
thousand eight hundred, and for a while fared badly at their captors'
hands. But ultimately a small committee was formed in Pretoria and
L5000 subscribed, to be spent in mitigating their lot and ministering
in many ways to their comfort. In these ministrations of mercy the
Wesleyan minister, whose grateful guest I for a while became, as
afterwards of the genial host and hostess at the Silverton Mission
Parsonage, took a prominent and much appreciated part as the following
letter abundantly proves:--
To the Rev. F. W. MACDONALD,
President, Wesleyan Church, London.
PRETORIA, _4th July 1900_.
SIR,--As chairman of a committee formed in January last for the
purpose of assisting the British prisoners of war, I have been
requested to bring officially to your notice the splendid work
done by the Rev. H. W. Goodwin. From my position I have been
thrown into intimate relationship with Mr Goodwin, and it is a
great pleasure to me to testify to his invaluable services. I am
not a member of your church, nor are my colleagues, but there is
a unanimous desire among the British subjects that were permitted
to remain in Pretoria, and who are therefore cognisant of Mr
Goodwin's work, to place his record before you. It is our united
hope that Mr Goodwin will receive some substantial mark of
appreciation from the Church of which he is so fine a
representative. I know of none finer in the highest sense in the
Church which knows no distinction of forms or creeds.--I have the
honour to be, Sir, your obedient servant,
(Sd.) J. LEIGH WOOD.
On my arrival in Pretoria Mr Goodwin was at my request at once
appointed as Acting Army Chaplain, and shortly after received the
following most gratifying communication:--
BRITISH AGENCY,
PRETORIA, _9th June 1900_.
DEAR SIR,--If you could kindly call on Lord Roberts some time
to-day or to-morrow, it would give him great pleasure to meet one
who has done so much for our prisoners of war.--Yours faithfully,
(Sd.) H. V. CONAN,
The Rev. Goodwin. _Lt.-Col., Mil. Sec._
When Mr Goodwin accordingly called nothing could well exceed the
warmth of the welcome and of the thanks the field-marshal graciously
accorded him.
Among the prisoners at the Waterfall was a well-known Wesleyan
sergeant of the 18th Hussars, who rallied around him all such as were
of a devout spirit and became the recognised leader of the religious
life of the prison camp. I therefore requested him to supply me with a
brief statement of what in this respect had been done by the prisoners
for the prisoners. He accordingly sent me the following letter:--
PRETORIA, _7th July 1900_.
REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,--Long before you asked me to write an
account of the Christian work which was carried on from the 22nd
of October 1899 to the 6th of June 1900, among the British
prisoners of war at the Pretoria Racecourse, and afterwards at
Waterfall, it had occurred to me that for the encouragement of
other Christian workers particularly, and the members of the
Church of Christ generally, some record should be made of the
wonderful way in which God blessed us, and it is with the
greatest pleasure that I accede to your request.
I was one of the 160 who were taken prisoners after the battle of
Talana Hill (Dundee), and a few days after arriving at our
destination (Pretoria Racecourse) we heard some of our guard
singing psalms and we immediately decided to ask the commandant
for a tent for devotional purposes. It was given, and after the
first few nights, till we were released by our own forces seven
months afterwards, it was filled to overflowing nightly. On our
being removed to Waterfall, we enlarged our tent to three times
its original size, and later on we begged building material from
the commandant, and built a very nice hall with a platform and
seating accommodation for over 240. At last this became too small
and we went into the open air twice a week, when no less than 500
to 700 congregated to hear the old, old story of Jesus and His
love.
When we asked for the small tent we had no idea of the work
growing as it did. We used to meet together every night, a simple
gathering together of God's children, four in number, which
increased to one hundred, with the Lord Himself as teacher. Then
our comrades began to attend and we commenced to hold
evangelistic services, which were continued to the end.
When we got to Waterfall we started a Bible-class and a prayer
meeting, held alternately. The work was helped a great deal by
other Christian brothers, without whose services, co-operation,
fellowship and sympathy the work could hardly have been continued
for any length of time. But, after all, speaking after the manner
of men, our dear friend and pastor, the Rev. H. W. Goodwin, was
the one who really enabled us to carry on the work. As the
transport and commissariat are to any army, so Mr Goodwin was to
us.
On our application, the Boer Government consented to allow the
ministers of the various churches in Pretoria to visit us once a
month for the purpose of conducting divine service. Of course
such a privilege as this was greatly appreciated by the men, and
one cannot help wondering why such restrictions were placed upon
the ministers.
We had many cherished plans and bright hopes with regard to the
war, and when we were captured we found it hard to recognise the
ordering of the Lord in our new conditions and unaccustomed
circumstances; but we were taught some grand lessons, and we soon
found that even imprisonment has its compensations; and we have
to confess that His Presence makes the prison a palace. I have
heard many thank God for bringing them to Waterfall gaol.
During the months we spent together we realised that God was
blessing us in a most remarkable manner, and we may truly say
that our fellowship was with the Father and with His Son Jesus
Christ. Many backsliders were taught the folly of remaining away
from the Father, and many were turned from darkness unto light.
To Him be the glory.
On hearing of the near approach of our deliverers, and knowing
that soon we should all part, we had a farewell meeting and many
promised to write to me.
I received a number of letters ere we actually parted, but with
the injunction "not to be opened till separated," and from these
I intend making a few extracts which lead me like the Psalmist to
say "Because Thou hast been my help therefore in the shadow of
Thy wings will I rejoice."
Of the extracts to which the sergeant refers it is impossible to give
here more than a few brief samples; but even these may suffice to
prove that our soldiers are by no means all, or mostly, sons of
Belial, as their recent slanderers would have us believe.
_A Bombardier_ of the 10th Mountain Battery writes--"I was brought to
God on the 4th of February. I had often stood outside the tent and
listened to the services, and one evening I went into the
after-meeting and came away without Christ; but God was striving with
me, and a few nights afterwards I realised that I was a hell-deserving
sinner, and I cried unto God and He heard me; and that night I came
away with Christ."
_A Sergeant-major_ of Roberts' Horse says--"I am indeed grateful to
God for the loving-kindness He has bestowed on me since my coming
here as a prisoner of war. The meetings have been a great success and
of the most orderly character."
_A Sergeant_ of the Royal Irish Rifles adds--"Thanks be unto God, He
opened my eyes on the night of the 21st of January 1900; and He has
kept me ever since."
_A Corporal_ of the Wilts, after telling of his capture at Rensberg,
and his arrival at Waterfall, goes on to say--"I heard about the
Gospel Tent from one of the Boer sentries, and I cannot express the
happy feelings that passed through me when I saw the Christian band
gathered together with one accord."
_A Private_ of the Glosters relates the story of his own conversion,
and then proceeds to say he shall never forget the meetings which were
conducted by the Rev. H. W. Goodwin, especially the one in which he
administered to them the blessed Sacrament. It was a Pentecostal time,
and it pleased the Lord to add unto them eight souls that same night,
and six the night following.
[Sidenote: _A Soldier's Hymn._]
As the day of release drew near with all its inevitable excitement and
unrest, certain British officers, themselves prisoners, were requested
by the Boers to reside among these men at the Waterfall to ensure to
the very last the maintenance of discipline; and the sanction of the
Baptist minister who once conducted their parade service was sought by
them for the singing of the following most touchingly appropriate
hymn:--
Lord a nation humbly kneeling
For her soldiers cries to Thee;
Strong in faith and hope, appealing
That triumphant they may be.
Waking, sleeping,
'Neath Thy keeping,
Lead our troops to victory.
Of our sins we make confession,
Wealth and arrogance and pride;
But our hosts, against oppression,
March with Freedom's flowing tide.
Father, speed them,
Keep them, lead them,
God of armies, be their guide.
Man of Sorrows! Thou hast sounded
Every depth of human grief.
By Thy wounds, Oh, heal our wounded.
Give the fever's fire relief.
Hear us crying
For our dying,
Of consolers be Thou chief.
Take the souls that die for duty
In Thy tender pierced hand;
Crown the faulty lives with beauty,
Offered for their Fatherland.
All forgiving,
With the living
May they in Thy kingdom stand.
And if Victory should crown us,
May we take it as from Thee
As Thy nation deign to own us;
Merciful and strong and free.
Endless praising
To Thee raising,
Ever Thine may England be!
Say their critics what they may, soldiers who compose such songs, and
pen such testimonies, and conduct such services among themselves,
seem scarcely the sort to "let hell loose in South Africa!"
[Sidenote: _A big supper party._]
Of the prisoners of war thus long detained in durance vile nearly a
thousand were decoyed into a special train the night before the
Guards' Brigade reached Pretoria. These deluded captives in their
simplicity supposed they were being taken into the town to be there
set at liberty; but instead of that they were hurried by, and, with
the panic-stricken Boers, away and yet away, into their remotest
eastern fastnesses, there presumably to be retained as long as
possible as a sort of guarantee that the vastly larger number of Boers
we held prisoners should be still generously treated by us. They might
also prove useful in many ways if terms of peace came to be
negotiated. So vanished for months their visions of speedy freedom!
The rest who still remained within the prison fence, and were, of
course, still unarmed, three days later were cruelly and treacherously
shelled by a Boer commando on a distant hill. The Boer guards detailed
for duty at the prison had deserted their posts, and under the cover
of the white flag, gone into Pretoria to surrender. Our men,
therefore, who were practically free, awaiting orders, when thus
unceremoniously shelled, at once stampeded; and late on Thursday night
about nine hundred of them, footsore and famished, arrived at Mr
Goodwin's house seeking shelter. He was apparently the only friend
they knew in Pretoria, and to have a friend yet not to use him is, of
course, absurd! So to his door they came in crowds, dragging with
them the Boer Maxim gun, by which they had so long been overawed.
While tea and coffee for all this host were being hurriedly prepared
by their slightly embarrassed host, I sought permission from a staff
officer to house the men for the night in our Wesleyan schoolrooms,
and in the huge Caledonian Hall adjoining, which was at once
commandeered for the purpose. I also requested that a supply of
rations might at utmost speed be provided for them. Accordingly, not
long before midnight a waggon arrived bringing by some fortunate
misreading of my information, provisions, not for nine hundred hungry
men, but for the whole three thousand prisoners whom we were supposed
to have welcomed as our guests. It may seem incredible, but men who at
that late hour had fallen fast asleep upon the floor, at the sound of
that waggon's wheels suddenly awoke; and still more wonderful to tell,
when morning came those nine hundred men, of the rations for three
thousand, had left untouched only a few paltry boxes of biscuits. A
hospital patient recently recovered from fever once said to me, "I
haven't an appetite for two, sir; I have an appetite for ten!" And
these released prisoners had evidently for that particular occasion
borrowed the appetite of that particular patient!
[Sidenote: _The Soldiers' Home._]
The Caledonian Hall above referred to is a specially commodious
building, and could not have been more admirably adapted for use as a
Soldiers' Home if expressly erected for that purpose. It was
accordingly commandeered by the military governor to be so used, and
for months it was the most popular establishment in town or camp. At
Johannesburg a Wesleyan and an Anglican Home were opened, both
rendering excellent service; but as this was run on undenominational
lines, it was left without a rival. It is a most powerful sign of the
times that our military chiefs now unhesitatingly interest themselves
in the moral and spiritual welfare of the men under their command.
Some time before this Boer war commenced, on April 28, 1898, there was
issued by the Commander-in-Chief of the British Army a memorandum
which would have done no discredit to the Religious Tract Society if
published as one of their multitudinous leaflets. A copy was supplied
presumably to every soldier sent to Africa; and the first few
sentences which refer to what may happily be regarded as steadily
diminishing evils, read as follows:--
It will be the duty of company officers to point out to the men
under their control, and particularly to young soldiers, the
_disastrous effect of giving way_
to habits of intemperance and immorality. The excessive use of
intoxicating liquors unfits the soldier for active work, blunts
his intelligence, and is a fruitful source of military crime. The
man who leads a vicious life
_enfeebles his constitution_
and exposes himself to the risk of contracting a disease of a
kind which has of late made terrible ravages in the British army.
Many men spend a great deal of the short time of their service in
the military hospitals, the wards of which are crowded with
patients, a large number of whom are permanently disfigured and
incapacitated from earning a livelihood in or out of the army.
Men tainted with this disease are
_useless while in the army_
and a burden to their friends after they have left it. Even those
who do not altogether break down are unfit for service in the
field, and would certainly be a source of weakness to their
regiments, and a discredit to their comrades if employed in war.
[Illustration: _From a photograph by Mr Jones, Pretoria_
Soldiers' Home at Pretoria.]
As one of the most effectual ways of combating these evils, and of
providing an answer to the oft-repeated prayer, "Lead us not into
temptation," Soldiers' Homes are now being so freely multiplied, that
the Wesleyan Church has itself established over thirty, at a total
cost of more than L50,000.
[Sidenote: _Mr and Mrs Osborn Howe._]
Some of those engaged in similar Christian work among the soldiers
were gentlemen of ample private means who defrayed all their own
expenses. Mr Anderson was thus attached to the Northumberland
Fusiliers, and soon became a power for good among them. Mr and Mrs
Osborn Howe did a really remarkable work in providing Soldiers' Homes,
which followed the men from place to place over almost the entire
field covered by our military operations, including Pretoria, and
though they received quite a long list of subscriptions their own
private resources have for years been freely placed at the Master's
service, whether for work among soldiers or civilians.
When late on in the campaign it was intimated by certain officials
that Lord Kitchener was not in sympathy with such work and would not
grant such facilities for its prosecution as Lord Roberts had done, Mr
Osborn Howe received the following reply to a letter of enquiry on
that point:--
[Sidenote: _A letter from Lord Kitchener._]
I am directed by Lord Kitchener to acknowledge the receipt of
your letter of January 3rd. His Lordship much regrets that you
should have been led to imagine that his attitude towards your
work differs from that of Lord Roberts, and I am to inform you
that so far from that being the case, he is very deeply impressed
by the value of your work, and hopes that it may long continue
and increase.
Yours faithfully,
(Signed) W. H. CONGREVE, Major,
_Private Secretary_.
Still more notable in this same connection is the fact that soon after
Lord Roberts reached Cape Town to take supreme command, he caused to
be issued the following most remarkable letter, which certainly marks
a new departure in the usages of modern warfare, and carries us back
in thought and spirit to the camps of Cromwell and his psalm-singing
Ironsides, or to the times when Scotland's Covenanters were busy
guarding for us the religious light and liberty which are to-day our
goodliest heritage.
[Sidenote: _Also from Lord Roberts._]
ARMY HEADQUARTERS, CAPE TOWN,
_January 23rd_.
DEAR SIR,--I am desired by Lord Roberts to ask you to be so kind
as to distribute to all ranks under your command the "Short
Prayer for the use of Soldiers in the Field," by the Primate of
Ireland, copies of which I now forward. His Lordship earnestly
hopes that it may be helpful to all of Her Majesty's soldiers who
are now serving in South Africa.
Yours faithfully,
(Signed) NEVILLE CHAMBERLAIN, Colonel,
_Private Secretary_.
To the Commanding Officer.
*The Prayer.*
ALMIGHTY FATHER, I have often sinned against Thee. O wash me in
the precious blood of the Lamb of God. Fill me with Thy Holy
Spirit, that I may lead a new life. Spare me to see again those
whom I love at home, or fit me for Thy presence in peace.
Strengthen us to quit ourselves like men in our right and just
cause. Keep us faithful unto death, calm in danger, patient in
suffering, merciful as well as brave, true to our Queen, our
country, and our colours.
If it be Thy will, enable us to win victory for England, and
above all grant us the better victory over temptation and sin,
over life and death, that we may be more than conquerors through
Him who loved us, and laid down His life for us, Jesus our
Saviour, the Captain of the Army of God. Amen.
The general who officially invited all his troops to use such a prayer
could not fail to prove a warm friend and patron of Soldiers' Homes;
and to the Pretoria Home he came, not merely formally to declare it
open, but to attend one of the many concerts given there, thus
encouraging by his example both the workers and those for whom they
worked. A supremely busy and burdened man, _that_ he made a part of
his business; and surely he was wise, for one sober soldier is any day
worth more than a dozen drunken ones.
The general who thus deliberately encouraged his troops to live
devoutly, instead of being deemed by them on that account unsoldierly
or fanatic, secured such a place in their confidence and affection as
few even of the most magnetic leaders among men ever managed to
obtain. The pet name by which they always spoke of him implied no
approach to unseemly familiarity, but betokened the same kind of
attachment as the veteran hosts of Napoleon the Great intended to
express when they admiringly called their dread master "The Little
Corporal." He amply justified their confidence in him, and they amply
justified his confidence in them; and so on resigning his command in
South Africa he spoke of these "my comrades," as he called them, in
terms as gratifying as they are uncommon:--
I am very proud that I am able to record, with the most absolute
truth, that the conduct of this army from first to last has been
exemplary. Not one single case of serious crime has been brought
to my notice--indeed, nothing that deserves the name of _crime_.
There has been no necessity for appeals or orders to the men to
behave properly. I have trusted implicitly to their own soldierly
feeling and good sense, and I have not trusted in vain. They bore
themselves like heroes on the battlefield, and like gentlemen on
all other occasions.
[Sidenote: _A song in praise of De Wet._]
Lord Lytton tells us that in the days of Edward the Confessor the rage
for psalm singing was at its height in England so that sacred song
excluded almost every other description of vocal music: but though in
South Africa a similar trend revealed itself among the troops, their
camp fire concerts, and the concerts in the Pretoria Soldiers' Home,
were of an exclusively secular type. At one which it was my privilege
to attend, Lady Roberts and her daughters were present as well as the
general, who generously arranged for a cigar to be given to every man
in the densely crowded hall when the concert closed. All the songs
were by members of the general's staff, and were excellent; but one,
composed presumably by the singer, was topical and sensational in a
high degree. It was entitled: "Long as the world goes round"; and one
verse assured us concerning "Brother Boer," with only too near an
approach to truth,
He'll bury his mauser,
And break all his vows, sir,
Long as the world goes round!
Another verse reminded us of a still more melancholy fact which yet
awakened no little mirth. It was in praise of De Wet, who in spite of
his blue spectacles, seemed by far the most clear-sighted of all the
Boer generals, and who, notwithstanding his illiteracy, was beyond all
others well versed in the bewildering ways of the veldt. He apparently
had no skill for the conducting of set battles, but for ambushing
convoys, for capturing isolated detachments, for wrecking trains, and
for himself eluding capture when fairly ringed round with keen
pursuers beyond all counting, few could rival him. Like hunted
Hereward, he seemed able to escape through a rat hole, and by his
persistence in guerilla tactics not only seriously prolonged the war
and enormously increased its cost, but also went far to make the
desolation of his pet Republic complete. So there Lord Roberts sat and
heard this sung by one of his staff:--
Of all the Boers we have come across yet,
None can compare with this Christian De Wet;
For him we seem quite unable to get--
(Though Hildyard and Broadwood,
And our Soudanese Lord _should_)--
Long as the world goes round!
They _should_ have got him, and they would have got him, if they
could; but when Lord Roberts, long months after, set sail for home, he
left De Wet still in the saddle. Then Kitchener, our Soudanese Lord,
took up the running, and called on the Guards to aid him, but even
they proved unequal to the hopeless task. "One pair of heels," they
said, "can never overtake two pair of hoofs." Then our picked mounted
men monopolised the "tally-ho" to little better purpose. De Wet's guns
were captured, his convoys cut off, but him no man caught, and
possibly to this very day he is still complacently humming "Tommies
may come and Tommies may go, but I trot on for ever."
[Sidenote: _Cordua and his Conspiracy._]
The last verse of this sensational song had reference to yet another
celebrity, but of a far more unsatisfactory type. All the earlier part
of that Thursday I had spent in the second Raadsaal, attending a
court-martial on one of our prisoners of war, Lieutenant Hans Cordua,
late of the Transvaal State Artillery, who, having surrendered, was
suffered to be at large on parole. In my presence he pleaded guilty,
first to having broken his parole in violation of his solemn oath;
secondly, to having attempted to break through the British lines
disguised in British khaki, in order to communicate treasonably with
Botha; and thirdly, to having conspired with sundry others to set fire
to a certain portion of Pretoria with a view to facilitating a
simultaneous attempt to kidnap Lord Roberts and all his staff. Cordua
was with difficulty persuaded to withdraw the plea of guilty, so that
he might have the benefit of any possible flaw his counsel could
detect in the evidence; but in the end the death sentence was
pronounced, confirmed, and duly executed in the garden of Pretoria
Gaol on August 24th. It was from that court-martial I came to the
Soldiers' Home Concert, sat close behind Lord Roberts, and listened to
this song:--
Though the Boer some say is a practised thief,
Yet it certainly beggars all belief,
That he slimly should try _to steal our Chief_.
But no Hollander mobs
Shall kidnap our Bobs
Long as the world goes round!
[Sidenote: _Hospital Work in Pretoria._]
Historians tell us that the hospital arrangements in some of our
former wars were by no means free from fault. Hence Steevens in his
"Crimean Campaign" asserts that while the camp hospitals absolutely
lacked not only candles, but medicines, wooden legs were supplied to
them from England so freely that there were finally four such legs for
every man in hospital. Clearly those wooden legs were consigned by
wooden heads. Even in this much better managed war the fever epidemic
at Bloemfontein, combined with a month of almost incessant rain,
overtaxed for a while, as we have seen, the resources and strength and
organizing skill of a most willing and fairly competent medical staff.
But Pretoria was plagued with no corresponding epidemic, and possessed
incomparably ampler supplies, which were drawn on without stint. In
addition to the Welsh, the Yeomanry, and other canvas hospitals
planted in the suburbs, the splendid Palace of Justice was
requisitioned for the use of the Irish hospital, which, like several
others, was fitted out and furnished by private munificence. The
principal school buildings were also placed at the disposal of the
medical authorities, and were promptly made serviceable with whatever
requisites the town could supply. To find suitable bedding, however,
for so vast a number of patients was a specially difficult task. All
the rugs and tablecloths the stores of the town contained were
requisitioned for this purpose; green baize and crimson baize, repp
curtains and plush, anything, everything remotely suitable, was
claimed and cut up to serve as quilts and counterpanes, with the
result that the beds looked picturesquely, if not grotesquely, gay.
One ward, into which I walked, was playfully called "The Menagerie" by
the men that occupied it, for on every bed was a showy rug, and on the
face of every rug was woven the figure of some fearsome beast, Bengal
tigers and British lions being predominant. It was in appearance a
veritable lion's den, where our men dwelt in peace like so many modern
Daniels, and found not harm but health and healing there.
[Sidenote: _The wear and tear of War._]
In this campaign the loss of life and vigour caused by sickness was
enormously larger than that accounted for by bullet wounds and
bayonets. At the Orange River, just before the Guards set out on their
long march, thirty Grenadier officers stretched their legs under their
genial colonel's "mahogany," which consisted of rough planks supported
on biscuit boxes. Of those only nine were still with us when we
reached Pretoria, and of the nine several had been temporarily
disabled by sickness or wounds. The battalion at starting was about a
thousand strong, and afterwards received various drafts amounting to
about four hundred more; but only eight hundred marched into Pretoria.
The Scots Guards, however, were so singularly fortunate as not to lose
a single officer during the whole campaign.
The non-combatants in this respect were scarcely less unfortunate than
the bulk of their fighting comrades. A band of workers in the service
of the Soldiers' Christian Association set out together from London
for South Africa. There were six of them, but before the campaign was
really half over only one still remained at his post. My faithful
friend and helper, whom I left as army scripture reader at Orange
River, after some months of devoted work was compelled to hasten home.
A similar fate befell my Canadian, my Welsh, and one of my Australian
colleagues. The highly esteemed Anglican chaplain to the Guards, who
steadily tramped with them all the way to Pretoria and well earned his
D.S.O., was forbidden by his medical advisers to proceed any further,
and his successor, Canon Knox Little, whose praise as a preacher is in
all the churches, found on reaching Koomati Poort that his strength
was being overstrained, and so at once returned to the sacred duties
of his English Canonry. Thus to many a non-combatant the medical staff
was called to minister, and the veldt to provide a grave.
[Sidenote: _The Nursing Sisters._]
The presence of skilled lady-nurses in these Hospitals was of immense
service, not merely as an aid to healing, but also as a refining and
restraining influence among the men. In this direction they habitually
achieved what even the appearing of a chaplain did not invariably
suffice to accomplish. It was the cheering experience of Florence
Nightingale repeated on a yet wider scale. In her army days oaths were
greatly in fashion. The expletives of one of even the Crimean
_generals_ became the jest of the camp; and when later in his career
he took over the Aldershot Command, it was laughingly said "he _swore_
himself in"; which doubtless he did in a double sense. Yet men trained
in habits so evil when they came into the Scutari Hospital ceased to
swear and forgot to grumble. Said "The Lady with the Lamp," "Never
came from one of them any word, or any look, which a gentleman would
not have used, and the tears came into my eyes as I think how amid
scenes of loathsome disease and death, there rose above it all the
innate dignity, gentleness and chivalry of the men."
Now as then there are other ministries than those of the pulpit; and
hospitals in which such influences exert themselves, may well prove,
in more directions than one, veritable "Houses of Healing."
[Sidenote: _A Surprise Packet._]
As illustrating how gratefully these men appreciate any slightest
manifestation of interest in their welfare, mention may here be made
of what I regard as the crowning surprise of my life. At the close of
an open air parade service in Pretoria a sergeant of the Grenadiers
stepped forward, and in the name of the non-commissioned officers and
men of that battalion presented to me, in token of their goodwill, a
silver pencil case and a gold watch. I could but reply that the
goodwill of my comrades was to me beyond all price, and that this
golden manifestation of it, this gift coming from such a source, I
should treasure as a victorious fighting man would treasure a V.C.
[Sidenote: _Soldierly Gratitude._]
The kindnesses lavished on our soldiers, as far as circumstances would
permit, throughout the whole course of this campaign, by civilian
friends at home, in the Colonies, and in the conquered territories,
defy all counting and all description. In some cases, indeed, valuable
consignments intended for their comfort seem never to have reached
their destination, but the knowledge that they were thus thought of
and cared for had upon the men an immeasurable influence for good.
Later on, even the people of Delagoa Bay sent a handsome Christmas
hamper to every blockhouse between the frontier and Barberton, while
at the same time the King of Portugal presented a superb white buck,
wearing a suitably inscribed silver collar, to the Cornwalls who were
doing garrison duty at Koomati Poort. But in Pretoria, where among
other considerations my Wesleyan friends regularly provided a Saturday
"Pleasant Hour," the soldiers in return invited the whole congregation
to a "social," on which they lavished many a pound, and which they
made a brilliant success. It was a startling instance of soldierly
gratitude; and illustrates excellently the friendly attitude of the
military and of the local civilians towards each other.
[Sidenote: _The Ladysmith Lyre._]
It sometimes happened among these much enduring men that the greater
their misery the greater their mirth. Thus our captured officers,
close guarded in the Pretoria Model School, and carefully cut off from
all the news of the day, amused themselves by framing parodies on the
absurd military intelligence published in the local Boer papers;
whereof let the following verse serve as a sample:--
Twelve thousand British were laid low;
One Boer was wounded in the toe.
Such is the news we get to know
In prison.
About this time there came into my hands a sample copy of _The
Ladysmith Lyre_; but clearly though the last word in its title was
perfectly correct as a matter of pronunciation the spelling was
obviously inaccurate. It was a merry invention of news during the
siege by men who were hemmed in from all other news; and so the
grosser the falseness the greater the fun.
* * * * *
In my own particular copy I found the following dialogue between two
Irish soldiers:--
First Private--"The captain told me to keep away from the enemy's
foire!"
Second Private--"What did you tell the Captain?"
First Private--"I told him the Boers were so busy shelling they hadn't
made any foire!"
That is scarcely a brilliant jest; but then it was begotten amid the
agonies of the siege.
One of the poems published in this same copy of _The Ladysmith Lyre_
has in it more of melancholy than of mirth. It tells of the hope
deferred that maketh the heart sick; and gives us a more vivid idea
than anything else yet printed of the secret distress of the men who
saved Natal--a distress which we also shared. It is entitled--
"AFTER EDGAR ALLAN POE."
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over all the quaint and curious yarns we've heard about the war,
Suddenly there came a rumour--(we can always take a few more)
Started by some chap who knows more than--the others knew before--
"We shall see the reinforcements in another--month or more!"
Only this and nothing more!
But we're waiting still for Clery, waiting, waiting, sick and weary
Of the strange and silly rumours we have often heard before.
And we now begin to fancy there's a touch of necromancy,
Something almost too uncanny, in the unregenerate Boer--
Only this and nothing more!
Though our hopes are undiminished that the war will soon be finished,
We would be a little happier if we knew a little more.
If we had a little fuller information about Buller;
News about Sir Redvers Buller, and his famous Army Corps;
Information of the General and his fighting Army Corps.
Only this and nothing more!
And the midnight shells uncertain, whistling through the night's
black curtain,
Thrill us, fill us with a touch of horror never felt before.
So to still the beating of our hearts, we kept repeating
"Some late visitor entreating entrance at the chamber door,
This it is; and nothing more!"
Oh how slow the shells come dropping, sometimes bursting, sometimes
stopping,
As though themselves were weary of this very languid war.
How distinctly we'll remember all the weary dull November;
And it seems as if December will have little else in store;
And our Christmas dinner will be bully beef and plain stickfast.
Only this and nothing more!
Letham, Letham, tell us truly if there's any news come newly;
Not the old fantastic rumours we have often heard before:--
Desolate yet all undaunted! Is the town by Boers still haunted?
This is all the news that's wanted--tell us truly we implore--
Is there, _is there_ a relief force? Tell us, tell us, we implore!
Only this and nothing more.
For we're waiting rather weary! Is there such a man as Clery?
Shall we ever see our wives and mothers, or our sisters and our brothers?
Shall we ever see those others, who went southwards long before?
Shall we ever taste fresh butter? Tell us, tell us, we implore!
We are answered--nevermore!
When twenty months later the Scots Guards again found themselves in
Pretoria they too began dolorously to enquire, "Shall we ever see our
wives and mothers, or our sisters and our brothers?" But meanwhile
much occurred of which the following chapters are a brief record.