THE EARLY HISTORY OF THE DIAMOND FIELDS UNDER ADAM KOK, CORNELIUS KOK,
“DAM KOK,” ANDREAS AND NICHOLAS WATERBOER.—THE DIAMOND FIELDS AND THEIR
GOVERNMENTS.—THE HOISTING OF THE BRITISH FLAG.—THE KEATE AWARD.—RUSH
FROM THE RIVER TO THE DRY DIGGINGS.—PNIEL DESERTED.—THE COMMENCEMENT OF
DIAMOND STEALING.—JUDGE LYNCH PUTS IN AN APPEARANCE.—DISCOVERY OF THE
KIMBERLEY MINE.—BRITISH RULE PROCLAIMED.—FREE STATE COURTS CLOSED.
After writing so far about the Diamond Fields, their past and present
condition, the climate, the geology, and the peculiar crime and
legislation there existing, I will now turn to the early history of a
region which, if it had not been for the wonderful discovery of
diamonds, would yet have been the home of the half-caste Griqua, the
indolent Batlapin, the marauding Koranna, the pigmy Bushman or the
pioneer Boer.
Griqualand West, the official name of this part of South Africa, is
bounded N. E. by the Cape Colony, S. by the Orange River, N. by Bechuana
Land, E. by the Orange Free State, and W. by the Kalahari Desert.
The chief inhabitants, the Griquas, are a mixed race, many of them
half-castes, who came from the Cape Colony and settled near the Orange
River under Adam Kok (himself a half-caste, his father being a Dutch
Boer and his mother a Hottentot slave) in 1795, who in course of time
resigned his chieftainship to his son Cornelius. Cornelius Kok, being
absent from his people for some time, during which he visited Lord
Caledon in Capetown, found, on his return in 1816, the Griquas settled
down and his son, “Dam Kok,” reigning in his stead. Dam Kok, becoming
restless about this time, left Griqua Town in 1819, dying subsequently
at Philippolis in 1837. Andreas Waterboer, formerly a schoolmaster and
preacher under the London missionaries at Griqua Town was, after “Dam
Kok” left the district, unanimously chosen chief, and his appointment
was confirmed in 1822 by Lord Charles Somerset, governor of the Cape.
Andreas Waterboer then set about redressing wrongs, was both
well-intentioned and useful to the British government, being a “friendly
and sincere ally,” as well as hospitable and open-hearted to all
visitors, and by these means so consolidated his power that he received
a special recognition in the shape of a silver medal, which was sent him
by Lord Charles Somerset. Notwithstanding this, although backed up by
the English government and Sir George Cathcart, he was continually
worried by land disputes with Cornelius Kok (whom, in 1838, he had
deposed from his office of provisional captain) until his death on Dec.
13th, 1852, relieved him from further trouble. His son, Nicholas, who
was then quite a boy, succeeded him. Troubles increased, the English
abandoned the sovereignty (now the Orange Free State) in February 1854,
and Nicholas Waterboer hemmed in, on the one side by the Transvaal and
on the other by the Orange Free State, formally appointed David Arnott,
on Sept. 1st, 1863, to act as his agent, which he had in reality been
for some years. Long before even diamonds were discovered, the Orange
Free State had insisted that there could be no question as to their
right to all the country between the Orange and the Vaal Rivers, but as
the district was of little value, no special steps had been taken by
that government to insist on their so-called rights.
[Illustration:
THE WATERBOER MEDAL.
]
When the first diamond was found in 1869, and attention consequently
drawn to the discovery, as I have before stated, the banks of the Vaal
became peopled with diggers and prospectors, and Waterboer, at once
seeing his necessity to deal with this large and increasing influx,
ceded all the land to which he laid claim, some 17,000 square miles, to
the English, the allowance of £150 per annum, which the English
government had paid to Adam Kok, Cornelius Kok, and then to Andreas, the
father of Nicholas Waterboer, being increased to £250, and afterward, in
1877, to £1,000, with £500 a year to his widow after his death. The
Orange Free State now asserted its rights, based upon its former demands
of having purchased Adam Kok’s rights with the land in question. The
misunderstanding resulting between the English government and the Orange
Free State, ending in the former giving the latter a compensation of
£90,000, I shall more fully explain further on, but I may say here that
Nicholas Waterboer is a living example of the care (?) bestowed by the
English government, as a rule, upon those aborigines it may take under
its fostering care. Nicholas Waterboer, formerly the undisturbed
possessor of this valuable tract of country, now ekes out a miserable
existence at Griqua Town, having parted with his country, the farms
allotted to him mortgaged, his pension swallowed up by hungry creditors,
ruined both in body and estate, a drunkard and virtually a pauper! I
endeavored both in the Griqualand West legislature and in the Cape house
of assembly to obtain some information respecting this poor chief and
the ultimate destination of his pension, but without success.
Any one asked to describe the policy of governments in the diamond
fields under the British flag would give no better answer than “making
pie-crust promises.” That was the policy of the first representative of
British rule “under instruction,” and it has continued to be the most
marked characteristics of his successors. Every new “hand” that has been
intrusted with the reins of government started on his career by
reversing the policy of his predecessors and making promises, which, if
he ever meant to keep, he revoked shamelessly and recklessly, either to
gratify his own caprice for party purposes, or under the “instruction”
of the imperial nominee, whose seat is fixed in Capetown, and who
puppet-like moves according to “wire.” It is therefore not to be
wondered at if the inhabitants of the diamond fields have occasionally
become furious and uncontrollable. The facts of the diamond field
history speak for themselves. Early in 1871 there was a flutter amongst
the population digging for diamonds on the banks of the river Vaal,
occasioned by the announcement that Mr. John Campbell, an official of
the Cape government, had arrived at Pniel to be British resident, to
represent British rule under the Union Jack, to administer law and
order, and to keep off at arms-length the two neighboring states, who
were bent on getting the territorial rights in their own hands; the Free
State claiming all the land on the near, and the Transvaal that on the
off-side of the river.
The English were jubilant, the Dutch furious. Mr. Campbell did not
venture to hoist the flag on the Pniel side, for Mr. Truter, a subject
of the Free State, was already sitting there as the representative of
the Free State and holding magisterial office under the flag of that
republic. The great mass of the population moreover (which at that time
could not have been less than 6,000 souls) was Dutch, the proportion
being about two to one. The Klipdrift bank of the river was peopled
chiefly by Englishmen who were determined to hold the territory on which
they had settled against all comers; to preserve their nationality; to
pay no tribute to any Dutch state, and to secure their position by the
aid of British rule; so that, when Mr. Campbell arrived, they were quite
ready to welcome him and to rally round the British flag.
A number of diggers went across the river to Pniel to escort Mr.
Campbell across the Vall, and all who did not do so assembled at the
landing place on the Klipdrift side to receive him. He landed in
Klipdrift amidst the cheers of the populace; a procession was formed to
accompany him to his quarters, and when a day or two after he met the
diggers he was as prolific of promises as a bramble is of blackberries.
All the diggers’ committees then in existence bowed down to him, and he
assured them that no private right either to land or to claims was to be
disturbed, that British titles would be immediately given to those who
had obtained land either by grant or purchase from the chiefs or their
agents, and that the law would be administered precisely as in every
other part of her Majesty’s dominions. Three commissioners, Messrs. H.
Bowker, F. Orpen and Buyskes, were appointed by proclamation to deal
with the land, holding their appointments from the high commissioner,
and all parties holding documents showing them to have land claims were
requested to send them in at once to the commissioners, so that they
might have titles substituted for them.
The territory at this time no more belonged to the British government
than it did to the Mikado. Nicholas Waterboer, the chief of the Griquas,
had it is true tendered his rights to the British government, but that
government had not come to terms or closed with him. There were disputes
between Waterboer and Janje, the chief of the Korannas and Batlapins;
while Botlisatsi, a brother of Mankoroane, was contending that he was
the chief of his tribe, and that his land included Bloemhof and
Christiana.
Beside this the chiefs had no individual rights to land beyond those
given them by their counsellors who represented the tribes, the native
law being that the land belonged to the tribe, and that none of it could
be disposed of to private individuals. The white men who had been
permitted to settle among them had none but squatters’ rights, though
the Boers had come in, marked out farms without leave being asked or
given, had laid down beacons and denied that any natives had any rights
over the land. When ordered off they refused to go.
Mr. Campbell some little time after his arrival proceeded to settle
civil claims and to try criminal offenses, when it was discovered that
he held office under the joint authority of Waterboer and the British
government. This was a dilemma never calculated upon. The Griquas not
being British subjects declined to be made subject to British laws, and
Mr. Campbell was instructed to administer Griqua laws for the Griquas
whenever it was applicable to the cases before him, and to do his best
to satisfy all suitors. So Mr. Campbell, who had positively no legal
jurisdiction, mixed the Griqua and British-colonial law and got along as
best he could. The Transvaal government persisted in its protests
against the British government exhibiting itself on the Klipdrift side
of the river, and threatened to drive English and natives out of the
country and claimed the land as their own. It was ultimately arranged,
however, that this land dispute should be settled by arbitration, and
this brought about what is known as “the Keate award.”
An arbitration board of three was appointed, consisting of Mr. Campbell
for the British government, Mr. Jeppe for the Transvaal, and Mr. Keate,
then lieutenant governor of Natal, to act as referee. The arbitrators
met at Bloemhof, and witnesses were called from all directions, Griquas,
Korannas, Batlapins, Barolongs, Boers and Englishmen all giving
evidence. Of course the Transvaal and English arbitrators could not
agree, and after a very protracted sitting Mr. Jeppe went “huis
toe,”[56] or home, Mr. Campbell following his example and returning to
the diamond fields.
Lieut. Governor Keate then took the matter into his own hands, completed
the arbitration and decided that the territory in dispute belonged to
the native tribes, and that the Transvaal had no shadow of claim to it
or any part of it. The award, however, did not deal with details, the
whole of which and the conflicting claims of the natives were left to be
settled in the future. No beacons were laid down by the arbitrators to
prevent after disputes, and as may be supposed it was not long before
the territorial and land questions bred troubles with which the civil
powers were unable to cope without resorting to arms.
Mr. Campbell assured every one on his return that the British government
had won the arbitration, and his reasons for so considering were that
although the award was formally recorded for the natives the territory
was sure to come into the hands of the British government. Those,
therefore, who had lodged formal land claims were all the more eager for
their titles to be registered.
The land commissioners as soon as they commenced discussing the
principle upon which land should be dealt with came to loggerheads
amongst themselves, Mr. Holden Bowker proposing that all the land at the
disposal of the government should be given out on the Queenstown system,
of which he was the author, to which suggestion his colleagues were
opposed, each having a plan of his own. The “Queenstown system” of
settling the land was granting to applicants land at a nominal rental,
each grantee being bound to occupy the land personally, to keep a
certain number of men provided with arms and liable to be called out
when needed to go on _commando_, and to appear at an annual review to be
held in the district.
The government to put an end to the wrangle informed the commissioners
that it was not their duty to grant titles nor to settle the principle
upon which the land was to be given out. Mr. F. T. Orpen, who had been
nominated surveyor to government, declined to hold the office of
commissioner any longer and sent in his resignation. He pointed out that
it could not have been the original intention of the government that the
commissioners should only collect the documents upon which land claims
were founded, as one commissioner could have done that as well as three.
There is little or no doubt, however, that the fault attached to this
broken promise was committed at the instance of the imperial government,
who had not yet settled with Waterboer, fearing the heavy
responsibilities that would be involved in so doing.
This course of action made the Free State all the bolder in its demands
and its authorities sent to Pniel demanding from the diggers the license
money for claims and stands which, if paid, would have enriched the Free
State treasury to the extent of at least £1,500 a month—the claim
licenses being charged at a rate of 10s. each per month.
The Berlin missionaries, who laid claim to Pniel as their property,
protested, and the English diggers, together with many of the Boers who
hailed from the Cape Colony and were digging at Pniel at the time,
refused to pay.
The Free State threatened force. The diggers laughed at the menace when
the Free State government called out a _commando_, which was instantly
responded to by the Boers, and quite an army of Vrijstaat cavalry came
over the border and encamped on a flat situated close to the river,
about three miles from the Pniel diggings. Tax-gatherers were sent in to
warn the diggers that if they failed to pay the army would move in and
smite them hip and thigh. Messages were returned more plain than polite.
At this time there were about 4,000 diggers at Pniel, so the Free
Staters maintained “a masterly inactivity” for several weeks, when some
of them rode into the camp and blustered considerably. The diggers
simply regarded their invaders as so many butts for ridicule, and the
natives, who thoroughly enjoyed the fun, added to the diggers’ amusement
by jumping up behind the riders on the Boer volunteers’ horses, which
were gorgeously caparisoned with navy-blue saddle-cloths richly adorned
with embroidery of yellow and red braid, while other dusky humorists
seized the tails of the horses, laughing and shouting with all the
artless glee and _abandon_ of the sons of Ham.
The “army” saw it was useless to attack Pniel and some of the wisest of
them made their way back to their farms and donned their mole-skins
again. The bulk of them thought, however, that they would try and force
money out of the diggers at the smaller camps, and selected for the
experiment Waldek’s plant (where a number of English colonists were at
work) thinking to take them by surprise, but the Free State Boers have
no more love for being taxed than have their brethren in the Transvaal
or in the Cape Colony, and certain of them in kindly sympathy took care
to let the Waldek’s plant diggers know of the movements of the army.
When the warriors rode into Waldek’s plant they found themselves face to
face with armed men behind two small field-pieces and were given to
understand that if they did not wheel about and be off they would be
fired at. The advice of Bombastes, “begone brave army and don’t kick up
a row,” was given in sober earnest.
There was an immediate halt. A deputation was sent from the army to meet
a deputation from the diggers, and a mutual understanding was arrived at
that there should be no fighting. There was a general indulgence in the
cups that cheer and also inebriate, and the Boer army returned as
empty-handed as they came. Mr. Campbell did not venture to cross the
river to the side where there was a Free State magistrate, nor yet did
Mr. Truter, the Free State official, venture to steer his barque to the
side where Mr. Campbell had hoisted the British flag.
When the diamonds were first discovered Sir Philip Wodehouse was
governor and high commissioner of the South African colonies, but he was
recalled before there was anything like a general rush to the fields,
which only commenced in the beginning of 1870. Lieut. Governor Hay
filled the acting appointment until Sir Henry Barkly became governor and
high commissioner in 1870, and the latter had not been long in the Cape
Colony before he came up; the Cape parliament having decided that he
should, between the sessions of 1870 and 1871, make all the arrangements
for annexing the diamond fields to the Cape Colony, and at that time the
diggers looked on this annexation as inevitable.
Sir Henry went to the Klipdrift side of the river and was received with
the most strongly-marked expressions of joyfulness at his arrival.
Triumphal arches were erected and a banquet was given him, but he was
very reticent and little information as to how the fields were to be
governed was gleaned from him. The chief point of interest elicited from
him being that the land would soon be given out.
This visit was followed by the establishment of a high court presided
over by a single judge, Mr. Advocate Barry, (now Sir Jacob Dirk)
president of the court of the eastern districts of the Cape Colony. Mr.
J. Cyprian Thompson came as public prosecutor and there was soon a full
bar, Mr. Campbell holding the position of resident magistrate and the
late Mr. Giddy being civil commissioner.
The discovery of diamonds at Du Toit’s Pan and Bulfontein in 1870 caused
a revolution in the order of things. The diamonds could at this time
only be obtained at Pniel and the other river diggings by the
troublesome operations of digging out and removing boulders of immense
size, some of which were many tons in weight. The labor, as may be
conceived, was tedious to a degree when the diamondiferous gravel had to
be taken to the river, cradled, washed and sorted; all employed whites
as well as blacks were standing in water half their time, and chills,
ague and fever were the natural consequences. There was no water at the
Du Toit’s Pan or Bulfontein, the diamonds were found near the surface,
and the diamondiferous stuff only needed sieving before it was ready for
the sorting table.
The rush from the river to what were called “the dry diggings” was one
of the most remarkable ever recorded. In one week after the existence of
diamonds at Du Toit’s Pan in payable quantities was assured, Pniel,
which had grown into a town with a population of at least 3,000, and
provided with shops, post-office, hotels, law courts, etc., became
almost forsaken with nothing to be seen of its past glories, nothing
left but the deep pits from which the boulders had been removed and a
few straggling remains of roads and mud buildings. The population of
Klipdrift had been reduced by at least one-half, but the houses and
stores there being chiefly built of stone could not be removed; and
here, too, were the English courts, the judge, the public prosecutor,
the headquarters of the frontier mounted police, of which force a number
had been moved up to the Fields together with the civil servants.
All that the English government claimed was the territory under the
chieftainship of Waterboer. But the estate of Dorstfontein (Du Toit’s
Pan) was the property of a citizen of the Free State, and he, as others
had (although he was a British subject by birth), implicitly obeyed the
laws of that state and was prepared still to be loyal to it and to
submit to any digging laws that that government might pass and proclaim,
and to pay any tax or royalty that the Free State Volksraad and
government might see fit to demand. Mr. Truter, who had previously held
his court at Pniel and hoisted the republican flag there, opened a court
at Du Toit’s Pan, and English and Dutch alike respected his edicts and
availed themselves of his court.
Happily for the diamond fields, diamonds were found on the Voornitzigt
estate almost simultaneously with their discovery at Du Toit’s Pan, and
this estate had been purchased by Mr. Alfred Ebden (now the Hon. Alfred
Ebden, M. L. C.), of Old De Beers, on his first visit to Klipdrift, not
with the remotest suspicion that there were rich diamond mines on it,
but because of its close proximity to the already discovered diamond
fields.
When diamonds were found on this estate there was less difficulty in the
British government obtaining land for offices and courts than there had
been before, Mr. Ebden being a British subject and therefore desirous
that his property should be under his country’s flag, and he at once
said that the government might take any ground which they might select
as sites for the erection of buildings for official purposes.
At this time the local government was in the hands of three
commissioners, Messrs. J. C. Thompson and Campbell and Commandant Bowker
of the frontier mounted police, who were responsible to and acted under
the instructions of the high commissioner. It was never clearly
understood what their powers and duties were, nor could any one gather
from their proceedings what it was intended they should do, except to
act as buffers, so to speak, between the inhabitants and the high
commissioner, and between the high commissioner and the president of the
Free State. They continued their offices or “seat of government” as they
called it, at Barkly, placing Mr. Giddy on the Voornitzigt estate as
resident magistrate and civil commissioner, and appointing a small body
of police to do his bidding, while they themselves paid periodical
visits to the dry diggings, but never ventured into Du Toit’s Pan. When
Bulfontein was found an attempt to gain possession of it was made by the
Free State, but that was successfully resisted by the proprietors and
diggers, who declined to permit what they called “the foreign yoke” to
be placed about their necks. The high court, the post-office and all the
English government offices were still centered in Klipdrift.
Whilst the river diggings existed it was not a public complaint that the
natives stole diamonds. Occasionally a “nigger” was found to have
concealed one, being egged on to the theft by some dishonest person who
wanted to get diamonds cheaply.
When a diamond was discovered on a native he was “basted” with a
sjambok. If he had disposed of it he was made to tell who bought it and
the fellow was kicked out of the camp. The natives did not then know the
value of diamonds, and they brought those which they found to their
masters, but they were not allowed at the sorting tables and could only
obtain diamonds from out of the claims. Very soon after the discovery of
the dry diggings the character of the population underwent a change.
Originally the diggers came from the colonies and adjoining states, and
it was not until the early part of 1871 that Europeans came in any
numbers. Then the class which in the slums of London live without labor
began to put in an appearance, as I have mentioned before, and pitched
their tents in these diamond fields.
From that time trouble began. They systematically bought stolen diamonds
from natives or anybody, put up the niggers to all sorts of dodges by
which their masters might be robbed, and on this becoming known Judge
Lynch manifested his presence by the burning of the tents in which these
evil doers resided, which blazed away night after night.
One man was taken to a tree and Judge Lynch delivered judgment against
him to the effect that if he did not tell to whom he had sold the
diamond he should be hung up by the neck until he was dead, and that
such should be the fate of all buyers of stolen diamonds. The rope was
put around the neck of the condemned thief, but the threat was not
carried into effect, as those who were to perform the duty of
executioners were told that they, living as they did under British laws,
would be held guilty of murder if they carried out the sentence, and
appalled at this they held their hands, and the native, for aught I
know, lives to this day. White men keeping stores on the Voornitzigt
estate were suspected, and one of them would no doubt have been torn to
pieces had not some of his friends and companions come forward to save
his life, when pale as death and shaking like an aspen leaf he declared
that he was innocent. Nobody, however, believed in his innocence then,
nor has he yet succeeded in convincing the old residents in his
unsullied integrity. But by the skin of his teeth he escaped the
vengeance of his justly infuriated enemies.
The firing of tents went on, and the commissioners had no power to
interfere with any hope of preventing it; beyond a few policemen, they
had no force at their command whatsoever, and hence could effect nothing
themselves; they called, however, a meeting in front of the civil
commissioners’ office, which was attended by many hundreds of diggers
and others, the popular speakers saying that if the government would do
nothing to protect their diamonds against thieves that they would take
the law into their own hands. The commissioners were all present. Mr.
Thompson, on the part of the commissioners, was the only one who was not
trembling with fear. He said that he “would take care if any man, native
or white man, was found either stealing diamonds, or in possession of
stolen diamonds, he would punish him with the utmost severity of the
law; but the law should not be that of Judge Lynch, and if he found a
man setting a tent or other property on fire he would admit of no
justification, and it would be useless for such a man to talk about
stolen diamonds.” The learned gentleman would charge that man with
arson, and he might be sure that he would receive the penalty provided
by law for that crime.
He also said that the commissioners were considering what could be done
to afford diggers protection, and would let them know when they had made
up their minds. The meeting wanted to know if the commissioners would
make up their minds by the following Monday. Mr. Campbell asked: “Will
you promise not to set any more tents on fire until after Monday, and we
will see what we can do?”
Mr. Thompson declined to be a party to any bargaining of that sort, and
the meeting separated. There was no tent burning for some time after
this.
Government by nominee commissioners was a mistake from the beginning. In
both the elementary strength was lacking and the “main de fer”
(certainly) and the “gant de soie” (probably) were both needed in
dealing with so heterogeneous a community as that of the diamond fields.
Sir Henry Barkly exerted himself to the utmost to make it work
satisfactorily, but failed to do so. The system and the material were
alike bad.
His excellency at that time thought that annexation would be perfected
in the coming session of the Cape parliament, and was therefore anxious
it should begin. That the commissioners must be got rid of was clear, as
the diggers had shown themselves so completely dissatisfied with the
existing order of things.
The land claimants had become clamorous for the titles which had been so
long promised but were not yet forthcoming. The parliament of 1872 was
convened but would have nothing to say to Sir Henry’s annexing
proposals. This was another addition to the long list of promises which
the people in the Fields had found to be violated.
The high commissioner was furious and would have liked to tell the
honorable the house of assembly, his notions of the sense of honor
possessed by M. L. A’s. who were in the majority. But scolding would not
mend matters, and he therefore restrained himself from speaking out as
he would liked to have done.
His excellency’s dispatches to the secretary of state for the colonies
had inspired the imperial minister with confidence that the Fields would
be readily taken over by the Colony, but when he found that was not to
be he was no less furious than Sir Henry himself.
The adverse vote of the Cape legislature threw the onus of governing the
Fields on the high commissioner himself; his correspondence with the
president of the Free State was not only voluminous but provoked retorts
from his honor which were not pleasant nor easy of reply, and
personalities and loss of temper ensued; in fact the antagonism between
these high officials was almost unprecedented, and existed for a
considerable time.
The Boers of the Free State and all the Dutch in the Colony as well as
in the Fields were in sympathy with the president, and they accused the
high commissioner and the secretary of state for the colonies of having
shamefully robbed the Free State of the territory for the sake of its
diamonds. This charge, I may add, was believed in by a great many beside
the Dutch, and it was asserted by some of the most influential journals
in England that the home government would never have thought of setting
up Waterboer’s claim to the territory in dispute had not diamonds been
found to exist in it. This, however, was altogether untrue, for Sir
Philip Wodehouse at the time when he was engaged in interviewing the
British Kaffrarian annexation delegates at Aliwal North, who were
opposed to the proposed absorption of their country by the Cape, was in
correspondence with the president on the same subject, and complaining
that the Boers of the Free State were encroaching upon Waterboer’s
territory, and accused that state of having extended its boundaries
beyond those marked out when the sovereignty was abandoned.
Moreover, long before any diamonds were discovered, Mr. David Arnott,
the agent of Waterboer, had sent numberless protests to the Free State
government respecting the Boer encroachments, and at a conference which
had taken place on the same subject had produced evidence which he held
to be more than sufficient to prove that Waterboer’s claim was
incontestable.
On the 17th of July, 1871, the Colesberg Kopje, now the Kimberley mine,
was discovered, and in November of the same year the whole of the
diggings, without regard to title, were proclaimed to be under British
rule. This was supposed to have been done in order to enable Sir Henry
Barkly to perfect his arrangements for bringing about annexation during
the session of parliament in 1872. His excellency little knew then how
he was to be sold when the parliament met, but he afterward discovered,
as we have seen, with how capricious and unreliable a house of
representatives he had to deal.
The manner of proclaiming British rule was unique, to say the least of
it. The commissioners who were still in power, and a good many not in
power, were in a state of mental fever about the hoisting “the flag that
braves” and proclaiming British rule. It was all very well for Sir Henry
to instruct the commissioners to proclaim British rule, but who was to
read the proclamation.
The Dutch in the Fields “swore with an oath or something as good,” that
they would not be “brought under the British yoke,” as they called it,
and threatened to take arms and “deluge the Fields with blood” if their
state was deprived of the governing powers over the dry diggings. The
English on the Fields contrasted the proportions of the Dutch and
English populations, and the long odds against the latter if the Dutch
should show fight. The most timid were sure that the Dutch would rise to
a man, and the lives and property of the English would be sacrificed;
and if the truth be told many an English colonist then in these diggings
would as soon have seen the Free State as the English flag flying over
them, and no wonder, seeing that imperial rule had been in several
instances the cause of disaster to South Africa. It is hard sometimes
for colonists to remain loyal and true to their nationality when they
are treated with contumely, distrusted and scoffed at by the chief and
subordinates of the imperial colonial department, as has occurred more
than once in this colony.
However, the morning of the 17th of November broke upon the diamond
fields—the day on which the Fields from Klipdrift to the Modder River,
the whole area on which diamond diggings had been established, was to be
proclaimed British. John Campbell, Esq., in his plaids and buckles, a
model Highlander from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet,
slipped out of his office door, and with his colleagues was driven in a
cart to the margin of the Colesberg Kopje. This illustrious
commissioner, however, was not the man to “bell the cat;” that duty was
taken upon himself by the late J.C. Thompson, then crown prosecutor and
commissioner. The official car was surrounded by vehicles filled with
loyals, loyals on horseback and loyals on foot, and Mr. Thompson read
the proclamation from the scroll, which he unfolded and then nailed up
to a hoarding close by. There had been a government _Gazette_ published,
but its place of publication had not as yet been moved to the dry
diggings from Klipdrift, but whether the proclamation was gazetted or
not I have never yet been able to discover, for when Mr. G. W. Murray
asked for it, when he was a member of the legislative council, he was
told by the government that the files had been lost!
Mr. Thompson, after nailing up a copy or the original proclamation, no
one knew which, drove off in the triumphal British car to Du Toit’s Pan,
followed by a long procession of horsemen and vehicles, amidst the
shouts of the street mob and the melodious strains of an extemporized
band, which, in honor of the occasion, was playing a colorable imitation
of “The Campbells are coming.”
On reaching Du Toit’s Pan, Mr. Thompson repeated his proclaiming process
there. The honorable gentleman unfolded a second scroll and read its
contents, and then nailed up proclamation No. 2 on a hoarding. There was
a great concourse of people who came to hear and see what was up. The
multitude was a motley one. There were diggers Dutch and English,
store-keepers and canteen-keepers, Dutch and English too, and diamond
buyers with unmistakable Whitechapel marks or Bevis marks upon them, if
the pun be pardonable. In the midst of the multitude stood the Free
State magistrate and his clerk, both open-mouthed, very pale, and yet
more astonished than pale. On referring to the paper on the hoarding,
they found that Dutch as well as English had been enfolded in the arms
of Britannia. There was no fighting, no bloodshed, but a good deal of
tall talk. The Dutch authorities did not show bellicose intentions. The
Dutch magistrate merely closed his court, locked his office door, put
the key in his pocket, and paired off with his clerk to see the
president to report the aggressive proceedings, and his place in Du
Toit’s Pan “knew him no more forever.” The diggers went back to their
work, after the customary indulgence in alcoholic stimulants. The
general public exhibited few manifestations of joy, for it had even then
begun to be whispered that if this were to be the prelude of annexing
the Fields to the Cape, there was little in it for Griqualanders to
glorify themselves over. A banquet was given at Benning & Martin’s
hotel, Du Toit’s Pan, at which the officials secured front seats for
themselves and their friends, and made the speeches of the evening,
extolling themselves and each other, and becoming as full of loyal
sentiments as they were of “Mumm.” From that day forth the rule was
British, or supposed to be, but with the exception that the people had
to pay more taxes there was nothing to indicate that “a vast, great, and
glorious change” had taken place.
[Illustration]