"August 29th, 1880.
"I don't feel able yet to give expression to my sentiments of profound
regret that Her Majesty's Government have thought it advisable to recall
you from the post which you have held with such conspicuous advantage to
South Africa. They have driven from South Africa 'the best friend it has
ever known.' For myself I may say that in the midst of all the
difficulties with which I have been surrounded, I have always been
encouraged and strengthened by the cheerful view you have taken of
public affairs, and that I have never had half-an-hour's conversation
with your Excellency without feeling a better, and, I believe, a wiser
man."
Madame Koopmans de Wet, a lady of an old family, Dutch of the Dutch,
wrote to him, Nov. 16th, 1880:--
"It is with feelings of the deepest sorrow that I take the liberty of
addressing these lines to you.... What is to be the end of all this now?
for now, particularly, do the Cape people miss _their_ Governor, for now
superior qualities in everything are wanted. Dear Sir Bartle, you know
the material we have; it is good, but who is to guide? It is plain to
every thinking mind that our position is becoming more critical every
day....
"But with deep sorrow let me say, England's, or rather Downing Street's
treatment, has not tightened the bonds between the mother country and
us. You know we have a large circle of acquaintances, and I cannot say
how taken aback I sometimes am to hear their words. See, in all former
wars there was a moral support in the thought that England, our England,
was watching over us. Now there is but one cry, 'We shall have no
Imperial help.' Why is this? We have lost confidence in a Government who
could play with our welfare; and among the many injuries done us, the
greatest was to remove from among us a ruler such as your Excellency
was."
"As the day drew near, the Cape Town people were perplexed how to
express adequately their feelings on the occasion. It was suggested that
on the day he was to embark, the whole city should mourn with shops
closed, flags half-mast high, and in profound silence. But more cheerful
counsels prevailed.
"He was to leave by the _Pretoria_ on the afternoon of Sept. 15th.
Special trains had brought in contingents from the country. The open
space in front of Government House, Plein Street, Church Square,
Adderley Street, the Dock Road, the front of the railway station, the
wharves, the housetops, and every available place, whence a view of the
procession could be procured, was closely packed. The Governor's
carriage left Government House at half-past four,--Volunteer Cavalry
furnishing the escort, and Volunteer Rifles, Engineers, and Cadets
falling in behind,--and amid farewell words and ringing cheers, moved
slowly along the streets gay with flags and decorations. At the dock
gates the horses were taken out and men drew the carriage to the quay,
where the _Pretoria_ lay alongside. Here the General, the Ministers, and
other leading people, were assembled; and the 91st Regiment, which had
been drawn up, presented arms, the Band played "God save the Queen," and
the Volunteer Artillery fired a salute as the Governor for the last time
stepped off African soil.
"There had been some delay at starting, the tide was ebbing fast, the
vessel had been detained to the last safe moment, and she now moved out
slowly, and with caution, past a wharf which the Malays, conspicuous in
their bright-coloured clothing, had occupied, then, with a flotilla of
boats rowing alongside, between a double line of yachts, steam-tugs and
boats, dressed out with flags, and dipping their ensigns as she passed,
and lastly, under the stern of the _Boadicea_ man-of-war, whose yards
were manned, and whose crew cheered. The guns of the castle fired the
last salute from the shore, which was answered by the guns of the
_Boadicea_; and in the still bright evening the smoke hung for a brief
space like a curtain, hiding the shores of the bay from the vessel. A
puff of air from the south-east cleared it away, and showed once more in
the sunset light the flat mass of Table Mountain, the "Lion's Head" to
its right, festooned with flags, the mountain slopes dotted over with
groups thickening to a continuous broad black line of people, extending
along the water's edge from the central jetty to the breakwater basin.
The vessel's speed increased, the light faded, and the night fell on the
last, the most glorious, and yet the saddest day of Sir Bartle Frere's
forty-five years' service of his Queen and country.
"For intensity of feeling and unanimity it would be hard in our time to
find a parallel to this demonstration of enthusiasm for a public
servant. The Cape Town people are by race and habit the reverse of
demonstrative; yet it was noticed that day, as it had been noticed when
Frere left Sattara (India) thirty years before, and again when he left
Sind twenty-one years before--a sight almost unknown amongst men of
English or German race in our day--that _men_ looking on were unable to
restrain their tears. At Sattara and in Sind the regret at losing him
was softened by the knowledge that his departure was due to a
recognition of his merit; that he was being promoted in a service in
which his influence might some day extend with heightened power to the
country he was leaving. It was far otherwise when he left the Cape. On
that occasion the regret of the colonists was mingled with indignation,
and embittered with a sense of wrong."[28]