CHAPTER X.

The British in Pretoria

On the morning of the fourth of June, 1900, the British troops turned their guns on Pretoria, after hundreds of miles of weary marching, enlivened with only a few fights to break the monotony of the work. There was not much defense, as it had been decided that there should be no opposition to the enemy’s entrance; but as many of the burghers had returned over Sunday, and the panic of a few days before had vanished, they were taking away more stores than they had at first intended. Train-loads of troops and refugees were leaving Pretoria every hour; therefore General De la Rey, with a rear guard, was detailed to obstruct the advance as long as possible, to cover the retreat that was then being made in an orderly manner. He had but fifteen or eighteen hundred men to oppose many thousands, but as he had the advantage of the positions, and as the English commander did not know whether the forts were occupied and armed, he was able to hold off the advance all day.

The fighting consisted almost entirely of an artillery bombardment by the British naval guns until noon, when the right of the Boer line was heavily engaged, and the rifle and machine-gun fire became very fast.

The burghers had but six guns with which to oppose the advance, and they were small field pieces that could not be put into action until the enemy advanced almost within rifle range. A little before dark the fighting was heavy all along the line, and then the British became fully convinced that there would be a determined defense at Pretoria. They were very much disappointed when they discovered that the burghers had waived the defense and had saved themselves for a struggle under other conditions. All day long two of the guns shelled one of the forts that had long since been abandoned, but as it was an advantageous position from which to witness the fighting, some of the townspeople had gone up there in the forenoon. They were seen by the British, and were naturally mistaken for soldiers, consequently they were subjected to a harmless shell fire. In the afternoon the invaders brought a large number of their guns into action, and the shells flew thick and fast over our position, occasionally striking and exploding at the crest under which we were lying. Considering the number of shells, however, very little damage was done.

All through the day the two wings of Lord Roberts’s army kept extending farther around the town, and just before dark the retreat from the defenses began. As the entire force of burghers was compelled to take one narrow road between the hills, this was crowded with horsemen, each man trying to pass the others, although with no great excitement. There was no talking in the procession; the men rode along looking like an army of spirits in the white clouds of dust. Mingled with the horsemen were men on bicycles, whose clothing showed that they had taken no part in the campaign; men on foot, who had come out to witness the fight, and even men in wagons. Occasionally a gun rumbled along. All were bent on getting into Pretoria as soon as possible. Once there, however, they seemed in no hurry to leave, many remaining until the next morning, after the British had actually entered the town.

As I rode into Pretoria there were knots of people at every gatepost and in every doorway, watching the retreating burghers, bidding good-by to their friends, and asking all sorts of questions regarding the advancing army.

I stopped at the Artillery Barracks, a fine large brick building, and there saw Major Erasmus, a member of one of the famous fighting families of the war; apparently he had not inherited the fighting spirit, for he had taken off his bandolier, and he told me that he was going to quit. Around him were a few more of the same mind, and sitting on a horse near by was an old burgher talking to them in Dutch. It needed no knowledge of the language to apprehend his meaning, for he was evidently speaking with biting sarcasm, and its effect was plainly seen in the faces of his hearers. Many others remained in Pretoria and allowed themselves to be taken, afterwards taking the oath of neutrality. Only those who wished to fight it out went on. The faint-hearted ones who stayed behind were snubbed by all the women-folk who knew them, and there is no doubt that many who broke their oath of neutrality and again took to the field did so in order to escape the taunts of the patriotic women.

At the Artillery Barracks were all of the British guns that had been captured by the Boers, but which they could not use. None of them was destroyed, however, and eventually they again fell into the hands of the English. In a few cases the breech block was broken, but aside from that they were in as good condition as on the day they were taken. It seems strange that the Boers should have allowed them to go back to the enemy uninjured after the battling which the possession of them had cost; but one commandant said that he could not see why they should uselessly destroy property.

It was said that a couple of English officers with a few men entered Pretoria that night, but I did not see them. The first of the enemy that I saw was an advance body next day, sent in to occupy the town and to post a guard on all public buildings. I heard that Lord Roberts and his staff were coming, and I rode out about a mile to meet them. I then first beheld that wonderful leader, who is certainly one of the greatest generals of modern times. His staff was preceded by an advance bodyguard of about fifty men; twenty men rode on either side of the road, flanking his staff by about one hundred yards. The staff was so large that it looked like a regiment in itself. At the head I recognized Lord Roberts, a small man on a large horse, sitting in his saddle as though pretty well worn out by work. He was bundled up in a khaki overcoat, as the morning was very cold. By his side rode Lord Kitchener on a powerful white horse, the only white one in the staff. That horse must have been a shining mark in action, but a little detail of that sort would not trouble a man of Kitchener’s stamp.

Immediately behind the field marshal and his chief of staff rode two Indian native servants, familiar figures in all Lord Roberts’s campaign, for he never travels without them. It is said that one of them saved his chief’s life in India, and that he is now retained in his service forever.

Lord Roberts and his staff rode into the railway station, where they dismounted and made arrangements for the formal entry and occupation, which was to occur that afternoon. The hour set was two o’clock, but it was twenty minutes past that hour when the flag was raised. The square had been cleared long before that by a battalion of the Guards, and finally the field marshal and his staff rode in and took a position just opposite the entrance to the state building. Immediately after his entry the drums and fifes and a few pieces of brass played the national anthem, and every one saluted, but no flag was to be seen at that moment. Finally a murmur started and circulated throughout the ranks and the crowd. “There it is!” exclaimed some one. “Where?” asked another. “On the staff; it’s up.” “No, that can’t be.” “Yes, it really is.” And it was.

By looking very carefully we could discern a little something looking like a stiff, colored table mat at the top of the high mast, but it was not recognizable as the Union Jack. It was afterwards learned that this little flag was made by Lady Roberts, and that as a matter of sentiment Lord Roberts had caused it to be raised. But that bit of sentiment had robbed the occasion of all the patriotic enthusiasm that would have been awakened by the sight of a big, magnificent banner. The next day a fifteen-foot Union Jack was hoisted, and the men who operated the moving-picture apparatus waited until the second day before taking the pictures of the raising of the British flag over the Transvaal which were to be shown in the London theatres.

I was reminded of General Shafter’s anxiety at Santiago on the morning of July 17th, when he sent from one end of his army corps to another to find a flag large enough to raise over the palace, and of how pleased he was when one sufficiently large was finally found. He said that day that the affair would not be a success unless the flag was large enough to show that it was waving.

When the British troops entered Pretoria, their first thought was for their unfortunate brother officers who were imprisoned there, and their first questions were regarding them, as they feared they had been removed by the Boers. While the preparations were being made for the flag-raising, the imprisoned officers were released, and came down town for the first time since their arrival. Many happy greetings were exchanged, some of them showing an affection betokening relationship. They were almost the only ones who did any cheering that day, as the soldiers were too worn out and the townspeople were too sad.

As soon as the flag was raised the march past was begun, and thousands of the magnificent-looking troops passed in review before Lord Roberts. The British soldiers made a fine show, although they were evidently pretty well worn out; their horses, too, were in bad condition. The Colonials and the Gordon Highlanders were the most attractive part of the review and made the best showing. The naval guns were drawn by many spans of oxen, and looked tremendously business-like. Under ordinary conditions the spectacle would have been a sight to fill a spectator with enthusiasm and admiration; but, somehow, the scene seemed more an occasion of sadness, awakening admiration and pity for that little band of men who had marched out into the night only a few hours before. An American business man of Pretoria watched the regiments tramp past, and then remarked, “Well, I think the best way for the Boers to win out is to come back to-day and march in review before this army. They would not need to fight any more, for this whole lot would die of shame.”

There was not a very large crowd to witness the occupation, considering the number of people in the city, for very few of the Boer sympathizers came out, and in most cases the women went into their houses, closing the front doors and windows tightly, and many did not open their houses until they were forced to come out to attend to their household marketing. Along the verandas of the Grand Hotel and in the street in front of the hotel a few ladies were to be seen, but except for these the crowd was composed of men, mostly blacks. This conspicuous absence of the women served to show the bitter feeling and intense hatred that prevailed among the people.

The Union Bank, however, a British institution, swung out two large Union Jacks in honor of the event.

While the review was passing, a corporal’s guard brought in two Boer prisoners, who were marched into the square, awaiting whatever disposition was to be made of them. One was a man about fifty, the other a boy about nine years old, in short trousers; but the little fellow had a rifle, and was held as a prisoner of war. As they stood there I could not but wonder what those British soldiers thought of such a sight.

While the review was going on, I stood near the Burgomaster of Pretoria, a man whom I had met with General Botha and Secretary Reitz. He was a man who had held the highest municipal office under the Boer government, but now he was fawning upon a major of staff, telling him that he had always hated the Dutch government and everything connected with it. To gain favor in the eyes of his new masters, he blackguarded all the men who had made him what he was. It did not seem possible that this pitiful personage could be the same man who a few days before was an official of the Boer government.

As soon as the review was dismissed, officers and men began to explore the town and to fill their pockets with souvenirs. Stamps and coins were especially sought after, while copies of the extra _Volkstein_, issued the night before, with news of Johannesburg’s fall and of the coming battle, were sold for five pounds.

Although there was not much chance to get liquor, the men found what they wanted, but there was a surprising absence of drunkenness. To my surprise and admiration, I saw only one drunken soldier in that entire army after the occupation.

During the first few days of the occupation Lord Roberts started the machinery of his wonderful government, and in a very short time everything was running smoothly. All stores and storehouses were put under guard and the contents commandeered for military use; although, when the stock was the property of private individuals, a good price was paid for it. If the burghers had had sufficient presence of mind or the inclination to destroy all the stores in Pretoria, the army under Lord Roberts would have been not only seriously embarrassed, but in a very critical condition. As it was, a sufficient quantity of Boer rations was left to keep the British going until the railroad was opened. In one building enough forage had been left by the Boers to keep the stock supplied until more could arrive. A single match would have prevented this, but one of the Boer commandants said regarding it, “Oh, it would be such a wanton destruction of property!” They preferred to allow it all to fall into the hands of their enemies than to burn it. If they had destroyed it the horses would have had practically nothing to eat, and all operations would necessarily have been stopped.

A corps of correspondents came in with Roberts’s army, and they were all very anxious to hear of the events that had occurred on the Boer side. Mr. Dinwiddie, of _Harper’s Weekly_, was one of the first in Pretoria; he had but recently come over from the Philippines, where he had been with General Lawton, but he had seen all the British advance since Bloemfontein. I had last seen him during the Cuban campaign. Another veteran of the Santiago campaign was Mr. Atkins, of the Manchester _Guardian_. The famous war correspondent, Mr. Bennett Burleigh, was also among the first to arrive. He is one of the oldest in the profession, and before he began writing he fought with the Confederacy during our Civil War. Mr. Barnes and Mr. Jenkins were two more of the American correspondents, although they were representing English papers.

Some of the wagons that were used by the correspondents and the _attachés_ were grotesque affairs. One of them was a pie-wagon, with a door in the back; its possessor had cut a hole in the roof and run a stovepipe out so that he could cook in any kind of weather. There were a good many grocers’ wagons, but the most common conveyance was the two-wheeled Cape cart.

As soon as Lord Roberts took possession, he issued a conciliatory proclamation, telling the burghers who wished to lay down their arms and take the oath binding them to neutrality that they would not be made prisoners of war. A number availed themselves of this offer, and most of them kept their promises; but subsequent events made many of them take up arms again.

The execution of young Cordua for conspiracy did much to help the Boer cause by reviving fainting spirits with the spur of new indignation. Everyone in Pretoria knew that there had been no plot whatever, and that the rumors of the supposed conspiracy had been spread by the agents of the British government. The young man was known to be simple-minded, and therefore was not responsible for his actions, but his death was a great stimulus to those fighting for the Boer cause. The proclamation regarding the burning and destroying of all farms in the vicinity of a railroad or telegraph line that was cut also sent many men back into the field and made many new recruits. No matter how loyal a feeling a farmer might have towards the English, he could not prevent some one from coming down from the hills in the night and blowing up the tracks or bridges somewhere within ten miles of his home; but if this happened his house was burned, and almost invariably the burghers who were thus deprived of their homesteads went on commando to stay to the bitter end.

One proclamation was issued compelling every man and boy to register his presence in Pretoria; and another, ordering that all firearms of every description be turned in to the provost marshal; this included sporting rifles, shotguns, gallery rifles, and, in fact, every arm that called for powder. It was not permitted to any one to ride or drive a horse, or ride a bicycle, without having obtained a special permit. Most of these orders were quite necessary and did no one any great harm. At times the restriction was troublesome, but that was all; and, upon the whole, considering the fact that the town was under military rule, the British government was lenient.

The women of Pretoria were intensely bitter against the British, and did not scruple to show it. For several days not one was seen on the streets. After a time they came out of their houses, but very seldom would they have anything to say to the invaders. They showed the same spirit said to have been shown by our colonial women towards the British, the same that the women of the Southern States showed towards the Northern soldiers, and the same that the French women felt against the Germans. In their hearts was bitter hatred, but politeness and gentle breeding toned their actions to suavity that was sometimes mistaken for weakness by a race that has never been noted for its subtle sense of discrimination.

Lord Roberts invited Mrs. Botha to dinner one night, soon after the occupation of Pretoria, and she accepted the invitation. Immediately the rumor was spread throughout the army, and was construed by the British to mean that General Botha was going to surrender at once, and that his wife was going to influence him to do so. On the contrary, Mrs. Botha told me that if he did surrender as long as there was a possible chance to fight, she would never speak to him again. Her eyes flashed and her manner was very far from that of a woman who was weakening because she had dined with the commander-in-chief. She obviously had her reasons for doing it, and there is no doubt that General Botha heard all that went on from herself the next morning. The system of communication between the burghers in the field and their families was facile and well conducted, and the women kept the men informed of every move of the British.

One afternoon I was riding along the streets of Pretoria with an English officer, and we passed General Botha’s little son. I pointed him out to my companion, who pulled up to talk with him. He was a boy of seven or eight, bright and good looking. The officer asked him what he thought of the British soldiers now that he had seen them.

“Oh, they’re all right,” he answered evasively.

“Well, from now on you will live under the British flag,” said the officer, trying to tease him in a good-natured way.

“Perhaps,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

“And you will become just as much an Englishman as any of us, and like it,” continued the officer.

In an instant all the boy’s evasiveness was gone; his fists clenched and his head came up sharply.

“I never will be English!” he exclaimed vehemently. “I hate you all! You may make us live under that flag, but you’ll never make us like it--never!” And he stamped his foot to emphasize his tirade against the enemies who had driven his father away. This is the spirit shown on every side in the Transvaal, the Orange Free State, and even in Cape Colony itself. The people seem contented enough until they are stirred, and then their liberty-loving blood makes them speak their real feeling.

A few days after the occupation a pretty young woman, tastefully dressed in a white summer gown, appeared on the street with a large bow of the national colors, red, white, blue, and green, pinned on her shoulder. An officer stopped her and told her to take it off, but she looked at him contemptuously and turned away. He stopped her again, and finally removed the colors himself. The young lady made no resistance, but passed on. Within half an hour she was out with another equally large bow of the colors. Again it was taken away from her, and again she put on another knot of ribbons. The matter was brought to the attention of the military governor, and she was told that if it happened again she would be put in jail; but it did happen again just as fast as she could get the ribbon to put on. Whether she was arrested or not I never knew, but I saw her on the street several days later still wearing the colors of her country.

For some days before the British arrived, the prices in Pretoria for provisions of all kinds had advanced to unheard-of figures. There seemed to be a sufficient quantity of everything, except white flour; but those who had stock on hand were making the best of their opportunity. The flour seemed to have been “cornered” by the bakers, for they were all furnishing bread regularly, and were charging from fifteen to twenty-five cents a loaf, according to the size. This was considered very cheap in comparison with the price asked for a sack of flour a few days before, the lowest price then being five pounds. “Mealies,” or common corn, sold at thirty to sixty shillings unground, the regular price being six or eight shillings. As this corn was used only to feed animals it made the expense of keeping a horse rather high. Up to this time the English have not discovered the value of Indian corn as a food product, although many attempts have been made to introduce it into England. There was an abundance of canned goods that sold at a fairly reasonable price, and also plenty of fresh beef, although it was of the trek-ox variety, and almost impossible to eat.

When the British army entered the capital, with over forty thousand hungry men, looking for anything as a change from the regular ration, prices jumped higher still, and the stocks in the various stores speedily vanished. One of the first official acts of the new government was to place a guard over the various provision stores, allowing no one to buy without an order from one in authority. This was done to prevent some of the officers’ messes from buying up everything in sight.

Fresh vegetables were exceedingly scarce, although very early in the mornings some came in from the country, and it was always a case of the “early bird” as to who was fortunate enough to get hold of them. Butter was a greater luxury than champagne, and if any was secured a dinner party was sure to follow.

“Come up and dine with me to-night; I’ve got some butter,” was the strongest invitation that could be issued, and one that was never refused.

Consul Hay kept many men and women from going hungry, for he had laid in a large stock of provisions against the expected siege of Pretoria; consequently he had plenty of food stuffs to spare, and any one who was known to be needy was welcome to a share. He also stabled several horses for their owners when there was absolutely no forage to be bought at any price.

When prices had reached an impossible mark, Lord Roberts took the matter in hand and issued a proclamation giving a list of all necessary articles and the legal prices to be charged for them, and any one asking more was liable to severe punishment. Some found a way to evade the order by giving short weight; but a few days later the first supply train came in from the southern base of supplies, and then prices resumed their natural scale.

It was an irremediable military blunder for the retreating burghers not to destroy all supplies and forage in Pretoria. Even as it was, Lord Roberts had made three attempts to advance his main force, and each time was compelled to retire, not because of the force of the Boers opposing him, but because of his inability to get rations up to his troops.

It was not a glorious entry, and the occupation was not so satisfactory to the British themselves that the word “Pretoria” on the regimental standards will stir a soldier’s throb for many years to come. Some day the blunders will be forgotten, the human wrongs will grow dim in distance, and only the glory of effort and the benefit to civilization will be thought of; but not until then will the British be proud of their conquest.

The burghers in this the first city of their fair land are conscientious and honest; they know they have the right on their side, and they are willing to pray and die for it. The English do not understand these plain folk as we would, for we have the same sort of men and women. Instead of trying to understand them, the English are prone to ridicule them.

Their devotion to the faith in which they believe has been a special target for this ridicule, although I never saw the time when they made that devotion obnoxious to even the lowest unbeliever. They worship in their own way, believe in their own creed, which is very like that of the great majority of the people of the United States. When I listened to the Dutch pastor preach that last sermon before the British entered Pretoria, I heard nothing that could offend any one; and yet, less than two weeks later, at my own table, in the presence of half a dozen British officers, an English chaplain told us as a great joke, over his brandy and soda, that he had heard of a sermon that was preached exhorting the Boers to fight, and that he had informed the provost marshal and had the Dutch pastor thrown into jail. After a moment’s pause he added, “I occupied his pulpit myself last Sunday.”

“Well,” said one of the British officers, “that is a method of getting a pulpit that I never heard of before.”

Transcriber’s Notes

Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a predominant preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.

Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced quotation marks retained.

Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained.

The captions of illustrations were printed in italics. To improve readability, those italics are not indicated in the Plain Text version of this eBook. Italics elsewhere are indicated by _underscores_.