It may be useful, or at any rate of interest, before I
lay my pen aside, to refer to several things which, at the time they
occurred, caused torrents of ink to flow both in England and in South
Africa.
The most important, perhaps, was the application of
martial law in Cape Colony. I must repeat that I hold no brief for England.
My affection and admiration for her does not go to the extent of remaining
absolutely blind to faults she has made in the past, and perhaps is making
in the present. I will not deny that martial law, which, unfortunately, is a
necessity in wartime, was sometimes applied with severity in South Africa.
But the odium rests principally on the loyalists; their spiteful information
in many cases induced British officers to treat as rebels people who had
never even dreamt of rebellion.
It must not be forgotten that those to whom was
entrusted the application of martial law had perforce to rely on local
residents, whom they could not possibly suspect of using these officers to
satisfy private animosities of further private interests. These British
officers had never been used to see suspicion reign as master, or to watch a
perfectly conscious twisting of the truth in order to condemn, or even
destroy, innocent people. A young and probably inexperienced officer sent
into a small place like Aliwal North or Uitenhage, for instance, found
himself obliged to rely for information as to the loyalty of the inhabitants
on some adventurer who, through capitalist influence, had obtained an
executive post of some kind. How can one wonder, therefore, that many
regrettable incidents occurred and were immediately made capital of by the
Bond party further to embitter the feelings of the Dutch Colonists?
Many illegal acts were performed under martial law; of
some a mention was made in the Cape Town Parliament; these, therefore, do
not admit of doubt. For instance, as Mr. Neethling said in the Legislative
Council, a man of seventy was sent down from Paarl to Beaufort West without
being allowed to say good-bye to his wife, who was left behind without means
of support. Their house was searched for papers, but without result, and the
man—a member of the Afrikander Bond—was sent back, after eighteen months'
deportation, without any charge having been made against him. He was an
auctioneer and shipping agent, and during his absence his business was
annexed by a rival. One British Colonial, who held office at Stellenbosch,
said to one family, without even making an inquiry as to their conduct, "You
are rebels and I will take your mules"—which was done. The mules were
afterwards sold to the Commissariat Department by the man who had
commandeered them. Is it a matter of astonishment, therefore, that many
people felt sore and bitter at all that they had undergone and were going
through?
The administration of martial law in the country
districts was absolutely deplorable; but when one examines minutely the
circumstances of the cases of injustice about which one could have no doubt,
it always emerged that these never proceeded from British officers, who, on
the contrary, wherever they found themselves in command, invariably acted
with humanity. The great mistake of the military authorities was that they
had far too much confidence in the Volunteer Corps and those members of it
who were only anxious to make money out of existing circumstances.
Unfortunately, certain officers in command of the different corps were
extreme Jingoes, and this distorted their whole outlook. People said at the
time of the war that some districts of Cape Colony had been turned into
hells; some things, in truth, called for strong comment. No words could be
energetic enough to describe the manner in which martial law had been
administered—in the district of Graaf Reinet, for instance. The
commandants—this justice must be rendered to them—generally meant well, but,
unfortunately, they were assisted by men of less stable character as
intelligence officers. These, in their turn, unwisely without due inquiry,
engaged subordinates, upon whom they relied for their information. Graaf
Reinet people had had to put up with something akin to the Spanish
Inquisition. Men there were afraid to speak for fear of espionage, the most
innocent remarks were distorted by spies recruited from an uncertain section
of the community. A cattle inspector was deported without trial; in
consequence, the Secretary for Agriculture decided not to employ him again;
at Graaf Reinet a Colonial intelligence officer constantly declared in
public that it was his intention to drive the people into rebellion; and so
instances could be multiplied.
The rebellion was not due to martial law. In Graaf
Reinet the prison was frequently so crowded, often by men who did not in the
least know why, that no more sleeping accommodation could be found in it.
People were in durance vile because they would not join the town guard or
defence force. So overcrowded the prison became that many persons contracted
disease during their incarceration.
For these sad occurrences the Cape Government was not
initially to blame; more than once they had remonstrated with the local
military authorities, but reports concerning their conduct were not allowed
to reach the ears of Lord Roberts or of Lord Kitchener. Very often a
Hottentot informed against respectable citizens to the intelligence officer,
and by virtue of that they were imprisoned as long as the military
authorities deemed fit. When released, a man would sometimes find that his
house had been sacked and his most valuable property carried away. Persons
were deported at an hour's notice without reasons being given, and
thereafter scouts took possession of their farms and plundered and destroyed
everything. Four wagon-loads of men, women and children were deported from
their homes at Beaufort West. In vain did they ask what they had done.
Everybody of the name of Van Zyl in the district of Graaf Reinet was
deported! not a single person was left on their farms except those who had
driven them out of them. And after these had done their work the victims
were told, "Now you can return home." Some had to walk back many miles to
their farms, to find only ruin left. Many white people were imprisoned on
the mere evidence of coloured persons, the reputation for veracity of whom
was well known all over South Africa, and whose evidence against a white man
would never have been admitted in any court of law previous to the war.
In Uitenhage the same kind of thing occurred. It was
sufficient for a Boer column to pass near the farm of an Afrikander for the
latter to be taken to prison without the slightest investigation. No one
knew where the fines paid went, and certainly a good many of those which
were imposed by the commanders of the scouts and volunteer corps never
reached the coffers of the Government.
At Cradock, Somerset East, Graaf Reinet and Middelburg
people were compelled to eradicate prickly pears and do other hard labour
simply because they had remained quietly at home, according to the
proclamation issued by Sir Alfred Milner, and refused to join a volunteer
corps of some sort or other. Many magistrates, acting on instructions,
forced guiltless people to walk a four to six hours' drive under the
pretence of subduing their spirits.
One case especially was of such a flagrant nature that
it illustrates how far the malice of these so-called loyalists went and the
harm which their conduct did to the British Government. The act which I am
going to relate would never have been committed by any genuine English
officer, no matter under what provocation. There is also a detail which must
be noticed: by a strange coincidence all the victims of oppression were,
with but few exceptions, men of means, whom, therefore, it was worth while
to plunder. The story is that a certain Mr. Schoeman, a man of wealth and
position residing on Vlakteplaats, a farm in the division of Oudtshoorn,
received, on August 28th, 1901, a message through his son from the military
scouts who were stationed at De Jaeger's farm in the neighbourhood,
instructing him to hand over his horses to their care. No written order from
the Commandant was exhibited to Mr. Schoeman, either at that time or on his
request, nor was any evidence adduced at his trial later on to prove that
such an order had really been given by an officer administering martial law
in the district. Nevertheless, Mr. Schoeman obeyed the order, and on the
same afternoon sent his horses, three in number, to De Jaeger. The scouts
refused to take his horses, and told them to bring them on the following
morning, Thursday, August 29th. This Schoeman did; on coming to the place
with them he found that the scouts had left, and was obliged to take the
animals again back to his farm. On the afternoon of that same day he
received a message from the scouts, and in reply told them to come and see
him. He had meanwhile, for safety's sake, sent two horses to be concealed
away from his stable, and kept one, a stallion, at the homestead.
The next day, Friday, Boers appeared early in the
afternoon. They took the stallion, and the following day they returned and
asked where the other horses were. Mr. Schoeman declined to give any
information, but they discovered and seized them. Immediately after the
Boers had left, Mr. Schoeman dispatched one of his farm boys named Barry to
De Jaeger, the nearest military post, to report the occurrence. The scouts
had, however, disappeared, and he learned from De Jaeger that before leaving
they had received a report of the presence of the Boers. On the return of
Barry, Mr. Schoeman endeavoured to obtain another messenger. Owing to the
state of the country, which was infested with the enemy, his efforts proved
unavailing.
During the next week Mr. Schoeman, with a considerable
number of his neighbours, was ordered to Oudtshoorn. On his arrival he was
arrested, without any charge or warrant, and confined for some three months,
bail being refused. No preliminary examination was held as provided in the
instructions on martial law issued May 1st, 1901. On Sunday, December 1st,
it was notified to Mr. Schoeman that he would be tried on the following day,
and the charges were for the first time communicated to him. On December 2nd
the court assembled and Mr. Schoeman was charged with three offences:
1. For not having handed his horses over to the
proper military authorities, whereby they fell into the hands of the
enemy.
2. For having been on friendly terms with the enemy.
3. For having failed to report the presence of the enemy.
He was found guilty on the first and last charges and
not guilty on the second count, being sentenced to six months' hard labour
and to pay a fine of £500, or to suffer a further term of twelve months'
hard labour in lieu of the fine. The sentence was confirmed, the fine was
paid by Mr. Schoeman, and he underwent the imprisonment for one month with
hard labour and for five months without hard labour, which was remitted upon
order from Lord Kitchener, who, without even being fully instructed as to
the circumstances of the case, of his own accord lightened the terrible
sentence passed upon Mr. Schoeman.
Later on Mr. Schoeman was cleared of the calumnies that
had been the cause of his suffering. In this case, as in many others, the
victim was the object of the private vengeance of a man who had had a grudge
against him, and repaid it in that abominable manner.
One of the worst mistakes among the many committed
during the South African War was to allow residents to be invested with what
was nothing less than unlimited authority over their fellow-citizens. The
British Government, which was made responsible for these acts, would never
have given its sanction to any one of them; mostly, it was unaware of the
original facts. The English military authorities dealt in absolute good
faith, which makes the more shameful the conduct of those who wilfully led
them into error. Their one fault was not to realise that certain individuals
were not fit to administer martial law. In one particular district the man
in authority seemed to have as the single aim of his life the punishment of
anyone with Dutch sympathies or of Dutch blood. It was useless to appeal to
him, because whenever a complaint was brought by an inhabitant of the
district he simply refused to listen to it, and poured a torrent of abuse at
the head of the bringer. One of his most notorious actions was the treatment
which, by his orders, was inflicted on an old man who enjoyed the general
esteem of both the English and the Dutch community, a former member of the
House of Assembly. His house was searched, the floors were taken up, and the
whole garden was dug out of recognition in a search for documents that might
have proved that his son, or himself, or any other member of his family had
been in correspondence with the two Republics. All this kind of thing was
done on hearsay evidence, behind which lay personal motives. Had the
settlement of the country been left entirely in the hands of Lord Kitchener,
nothing approaching what I have related could have occurred. Unfortunately
for all concerned, this was precisely the thing which the Rhodesian and
other interests opposed. Much of the loyalty, about which such a fuss was
made at the Cape, was loyalty to the sovereign in the pocket, and not
loyalty to the Sovereign on the throne. This concern for wealth was seen in
many aspects of life in South Africa, and occasionally invaded drastically
the realm of social well-being. A case in point was the opposition by the
financial interests to a tax on brandy. In South Africa drunkenness was one
of the worst evils, especially among the coloured race, yet the restrictive
influence of a tax was withheld. The underlying motive was nothing but the
desire to avoid the tax on diamonds, which every reasonable person claimed
and considered to be a source of revenue of which the Government had no
right to deprive itself. While Rhodes lived the legislation introduced and
maintained by his powerful personality revealed the policy of compromise
which he always pursued. He was eminently practical and businesslike. He
said to the members of the Bond, "Don't you tax diamonds and I won't tax dop,"
as the Cape brandy is called. The compact was made and kept in his lifetime.
When Rhodes was dead and a big democratic British
element had come into the country after the war, those in power began
wondering how it was that diamonds, which kept in luxury people who did not
live in the country and consequently had no interest whatever in its
prosperity, were not taxed. The Ministry presided over by Sir Gordon Sprigg
shared this feeling, and in consequence found itself suddenly forsaken by
its adherents of the day before, and the Rhodesian Press in full cry against
the Government. Sir Gordon Sprigg was stigmatised as a tool of the Bond and
as disloyal to the Empire after the fifty years he had worked for it, with
rare disinterestedness and great integrity. Nevertheless, the Ministry
declared that, as there existed an absolute necessity for finding new
resources to liquidate the expenses contingent on the war, it would propose
a tax on diamonds and another one on dop.
The exasperation of the Rhodesian party, which was thus
roused, was the principal reason why the agitation for the suspension of the
Constitution in Cape Colony was started and pursued so vigorously in spite
of the small chance it had to succeed. His support of this agitation may be
called the death-bed effort of Rhodes. When he was no longer alive to lend
them his strong hand, the Rhodesian party was bound to disperse. They tried
in vain to continue his policy, but all their efforts to do so failed,
because there was nothing really tangible for them to work upon.
With Cecil Rhodes came to an end also what can be
called the romantic period of the history of South Africa, that period
during which fortunes were made and lost in a few days; when new lands were
discovered and conquered with a facility and a recklessness that reminded
one of the Middle Ages. The war established an equilibrium which but for it
would have taken years to be reached. It sealed the past and heralded the
dawn of a new day when civilisation was to assert itself, to brush away many
abuses, much cruelty and more injustice. The race hatred which the
personality of Rhodes had done so much to keep alive, collapsed very quickly
after his death, and as time went on the work done with such unselfishness
and such quiet resolution by Sir Alfred Milner began to bear fruit. It came
gradually to be understood that the future would justify his aims.
The war was one of those colossal crises which shake
the foundations of a country and change the feelings of a whole generation
of men and women in regard to each other. Whilst it lasted it roused the
worst passions and showed up the worst aspects of the character of the
people who played a part in it; but once it was over the false fabric upon
which the animosities of the day before had been built fell. A serious and
more enlightened appreciation of the events that had brought about the
cataclysm which had cleared the air took the place of the furious outburst
of hatred that had preceded it. People began to realise that it was not
possible, on a continent where Europeans constituted but a small minority,
that they could give the coloured races a terrible example of disunion and
strife and still maintain dominance. Both the English and Dutch had at last
recognised the necessity for working together at the great task of a
Federation of the South African States, which would allow the whole of the
vast Southern Continent to develop itself on a plane of higher progress
under the protection of the British flag. This Union was conceived many,
many years earlier by Cecil Rhodes. It was his great spirit that thought of
making into one great nation the agglomeration of small nationalities, white
and black, that lay over the veldt and impenetrable forests of South and
Central Africa. For a long space of years Cecil Rhodes was South Africa.
So long as Rhodes lived it would have been impossible
for South Africa to escape the influence of his brain, which was always
plotting and planning for the future whilst forgetting more often than was
healthy or wise the preoccupations of the present. After the Queen's flag
had been hoisted at Pretoria, Cecil Rhodes alive would have proved an
anomaly in South Africa. Cecil Rhodes dead would still retain his position
as a dreamer and a thinker, a man who always pushed forward without heeding
the obstacles, forgetful of aught else but the end he was pursuing, the
country which he loved so well, and, what he cared for even more, his own
ambition. Men like Rhodes—with all their mistakes to mar their dazzling
successes—cannot be replaced; it is just as difficult to take up their work
as it is to fill the gap caused by their disappearance.
