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the Peace Thanksgiving service
at Pretoria, Sunday, June 8, 1902.
Lord Kitchener Leading three Cheers for the King.
From: H. W. Wilson, After Pretoria, 1902 |
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Arthur Conan
Doyle,
The Great Boer War
London, Smith, Elder &
Co., 1902
CHAPTER XXXIX
The End
It only remains in one
short chapter to narrate the progress of the peace negotiations, the
ultimate settlement, and the final consequences of this long-drawn war.
However disheartening the successive incidents may have been in which the
Boers were able to inflict heavy losses upon us and to renew their supplies
of arms and ammunition, it was none the less certain that their numbers were
waning and that the inevitable end was steadily approaching. With
mathematical precision the scientific soldier in Pretoria, with his web of
barbed wire radiating out over the whole country, was week by week wearing
them steadily down. And yet after the recent victory of De la Rey and
various braggadocio pronouncements from the refugees at The Hague, it was
somewhat of a surprise to the British public when it was announced upon
March 22nd that the acting Government of the Transvaal, consisting of
Messrs. Schalk, Burger, Lucas Meyer, Reitz, Jacoby, Krogh, and Van Velden had
come into Middelburg and requested to be forwarded by train to Pretoria for
the purpose of discussing terms of peace with Lord Kitchener. A thrill of
hope ran through the Empire at the news, but so doubtful did the issue seem
that none of the preparations were relaxed which would ensure a vigorous
campaign in the immediate future. In the South African as in the Peninsular
and in the Crimean wars, it may truly be said that Great Britain was never
so ready to fight as at the dawning of peace. At least two years of failure
and experience are needed to turn a civilian and commercial nation into a
military power.
In spite of the optimistic pronouncements of Mr. Fischer and the absurd
forecasts of Dr. Leyds the power of the Boers was really broken, and they
had come in with the genuine intention of surrender. In a race with such
individuality it was not enough that the government should form its
conclusion. It was necessary for them to persuade their burghers that the
game was really up, and that they had no choice but to throw down their
well-worn rifles and their ill-filled bandoliers. For this purpose a long
series of negotiations had to be entered into which put a strain upon the
complacency of the authorities in South Africa and upon the patience of the
attentive public at home. Their ultimate success shows that this complacency
and this patience were eminently the right attitude to adopt.
On March 23rd the Transvaal representatives were despatched to Kroonstad for
the purpose of opening up the matter with Steyn and De Wet. Messengers were
sent to communicate with these two leaders, but had they been British
columns instead of fellow-countrymen they could not have found greater
difficulty in running them to earth. At last, however, at the end of the
month the message was conveyed, and resulted in the appearance of De Wet, De
la Rey, and Steyn at the British outposts at Klerksdorp. The other delegates
had come north again from Kroonstad, and all were united in the same small
town, which, by a whimsical fate, had suddenly become the centre both for
the making of peace and for the prosecution of the war, with the eyes of the
whole world fixed upon its insignificant litter of houses. On April 11th,
after repeated conferences, both parties moved on to Pretoria, and the most
skeptical observers began to confess that there was something in the
negotiations after all. After conferring with Lord Kitchener the Boer
leaders upon April 18th left Pretoria again and rode out to the commandos to
explain the situation to them. The result of this mission was that two
delegates were chosen from each body in the field, who assembled at
Vereeniging upon May 15th for the purpose of settling the question by vote.
Never was a high matter of state decided in so democratic a fashion.
Up to that period the Boer leaders had made a succession of tentative
suggestions, each of which had been put aside by the British Government.
Their first had been that they should merely concede those points which had
been at issue at the beginning of the war. This was set aside. The second
was that they should be allowed to consult their friends in Europe. This
also was refused. The next was that an armistice should be granted, but
again Lord Kitchener was obdurate. A definite period was suggested within
which the burghers should make their final choice between surrender and a
war which must finally exterminate them as a people. It was tacitly
understood, if not definitely promised, that the conditions which the
British Government would be prepared to grant would not differ much in
essentials from those which had been refused by the Boers a twelvemonth
before, after the Middelburg interview.
On May 15th the Boer conference opened at Vereeniging. Sixty-four delegates
from the commandos met with the military and political chiefs of the late
republics, the whole amounting to 150 persons. A more singular gathering has
not met in our time. There was Botha, the young lawyer, who had found
himself by a strange turn of fate commanding a victorious army in a great
war. De Wet was there, with his grim mouth and sun-browned face; De la Rey,
also, with the grizzled beard and the strong aquiline features. There, too,
were the politicians, the grey-bearded, genial Reitz, a little graver than
when he looked upon 'the whole matter as an immense joke,' and the
unfortunate Steyn, stumbling and groping, a broken and ruined man. The burly
Lucas Meyer, smart young Smuts fresh from the siege of Ookiep, Beyers from
the north, Kemp the dashing cavalry leader, Muller the hero of many fights -
all these with many others of their sun-blackened, gaunt, hard-featured
comrades were grouped within the great tent of Vereeniging. The discussions
were heated and prolonged. But the logic of facts was inexorable, and the
cold still voice of common-sense had more power than all the ravings of
enthusiasts. The vote showed that the great majority of the delegates were
in favour of surrender upon the terms offered by the British Government. On
May 81st this resolution was notified to Lord Kitchener, and at half-past
ten of the same night the delegates arrived at Pretoria and set their names
to the treaty of peace. After two years seven and a half months of
hostilities the Dutch republics had acquiesced in their own destruction, and
the whole of South Africa, from Cape Town to the Zambesi, had been added to
the British Empire. The great struggle had cost us twenty thousand lives and
a hundred thousand stricken men, with two hundred millions of money; but,
apart from a peaceful South Africa, it had won for us a national
resuscitation of spirit and a closer union with our great Colonies which
could in no other way have been attained. We had hoped that we were a solid
empire when we engaged in the struggle, hut we knew that we were when we
emerged from it. In that change lies an ample recompense for all the blood
and treasure spent.
The following were in brief the terms of surrender:
1. That the burghers lay down their arms and acknowledge themselves subjects
of Edward VII.
2. That all prisoners taking the oath of allegiance be returned.
3. That their liberty and property be inviolate.
4. That an amnesty be granted—save in special cases.
5. That the Dutch language be allowed in schools and law-courts.
6. That rifles be allowed if registered.
7. That self-government be granted as soon as possible.
8. That no franchise be granted for natives until after self-government.
9. That no special land tax be levied.
10. That the people be helped to reoccupy the farms.
11. That 3,000,000 be given to help the farmers.
12. That the rebels be disfranchised and their leaders tried, on condition
that no death penalty be inflicted.
These terms were practically the same as those which had been refused by
Botha in March 1901. Thirteen months of useless warfare had left the
situation as it was.
It had been a war of surprises, but the surprises have unhappily been
hitherto invariably unpleasant ones. Now at last the balance swung the other
way, for in all the long paradoxical history of South African strife there
is nothing more wonderful than the way in which these two sturdy and
unemotional races clasped hands the instant that the fight was done. The
fact is in itself a final answer to the ill-natured critics of the
Continent. Men do not so easily grasp a hand which is reddened with the
blood of women and children. From all parts as the commandos. came in there
was welcome news of the fraternisation between them and the soldiers; while
the Boer leaders, as loyal to their new ties as they had been to their old
ones, exerted themselves to promote good feeling among their people. A few
weeks seemed to do more to lessen racial bitterness than some of us had
hoped for in as many years. One can but pray that it will last.
The surrenders amounted in all to twenty thousand men, and showed that in
all parts of the seat of war the enemy had more men in the field than we had
imagined, a fact which may take the sting out of several of our later
mishaps. About twelve thousand surrendered in the Transvaal, six thousand in
the Orange River Colony, and about two thousand in the Cape Colony, showing
that the movement in the rebel districts had always been more vexatious than
formidable. A computation of the prisoners of war, the surrenders, the
mercenaries, and the casualties, shows that the total forces to which we
were opposed were certainly not fewer than seventy-five thousand well-armed
mounted men, while they may have considerably exceeded that number. No
wonder that the Boer leaders showed great confidence at the outset of the war.
That the heavy losses caused us by the war were borne without a murmur is
surely evidence enough how deep was the conviction of the nation that the
war was not only just but essential - that the possession of South Africa
and the unity of the Empire were at stake. Could it be shown, or were it
even remotely possible, that ministers had incurred so immense a
responsibility and entailed such tremendous sacrifices upon their people
without adequate cause, is it not certain that, the task once done, an
explosion of rage from the deceived and the bereaved would have driven them
for ever from public life? Among high and low, in England, in Scotland, in
Ireland, in the great Colonies, how many high hopes had been crushed, how
often the soldier son had gone forth and never returned, or come back maimed
and stricken in the pride of his youth. Everywhere was the voice of pity and
sorrow, but nowhere that of reproach. The deepest instincts of the nation
told it that it must fight and win, or for ever abdicate its position in the
world. Through dark days which brought out the virtues of our race as
nothing has done in our generation, we struggled grimly on until the light
had fully broken once again. And of all gifts that God has given to Britain
there is none to compare with those days of sorrow, for it was in them that
the nation was assured of its unity, and learned for all time that blood is
stronger to bind than salt water is to part. The only difference in the
point of view of the Briton from Britain and the Briton from the ends of the
earth, was that the latter with the energy of youth was more whole-souled in
the Imperial cause. Who has seen that Army and can forget it - its spirit,
its picturesqueness - above all, what it stands for in the future history of
the world? Cowboys from the vast plains of the North-West, gentlemen who
ride hard with the Quorn or the Belvoir, gillies from the Sutherland
deer-forests, bushmen from the back blocks of Australia, exquisites of the
Raleigh Club or the Bachelor's, hard men from Ontario, dandy sportsmen from
India and Ceylon, the horsemen of New Zealand, the wiry South African
irregulars - these are the Reserves whose existence was chronicled in no
Blue-book, and whose appearance came as a shock to the pedant soldiers of
the Continent who had sneered so long at our little Army, since long years
of peace have caused them to forget its exploits. On the plains of South
Africa, in common danger and in common privation, the blood brotherhood of
the Empire was sealed.
So much for the Empire. But what of South Africa? There in the end we must
reap as we sow. If we are worthy of the trust, it will be left to us. If we
are unworthy of it, it will be taken away. Kruger's downfall should teach us
that it is not rifles but Justice which is the title-deed of a nation. The
British flag under our best administrators will mean clean government,
honest laws, liberty and equality to all men. So long as it continues to do
so, we shall hold South Africa. When, out of fear or out or greed, we fall
from that ideal, we may know that we are stricken with that disease which
has killed every great empire before us.
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