CHAPTER 39.
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 sceptical 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 31st 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 pounds 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.
