Part 2, Chapter XIX.
Arrival of Sir Harry Smith.
On the 1st of December, 1847, Sir Harry and Lady Smith, with his Excellency’s staff and suite, landed at Cape Town, amid the acclamations and rejoicings of assembled thousands. I have already alluded to Lady Smith as “once the favourite of the African Frontier;” and, at a public assembly. Judge Menzies welcomed the arrival of the Governor and Lady Smith, by proposing a toast, not to “His Excellency and his Lady,” but to “Harry Smith and his Wife.” On all sides their return was hailed with joy; but, as the colonists are too apt to be guided by results rather than motives, it is better not to dwell on this reception.
Sir Henry Pottinger left Graham’s Town, under a salute of guns from the batteries, on the 16th of December, and Sir George Berkeley followed on the 17th. The great event of the day was the entrée of Sir Harry Smith. The shops were closed, every one made holiday, triumphal arches were erected, surmounted by inscriptions proclaiming welcome to the new Governor and old friend. The very bonhommie with which Sir Harry had met his old acquaintances—even an old Hottentot serjeant, with whom he shook hands on the road—procured for him a ready popularity ere he entered Graham’s Town.
At Sidbury, within thirty miles of the town, Sir Henry Pottinger and his successor had a short conference. There is no doubt the latter had brought his instructions from the Colonial Office with him; but the meeting between two such men, and the conference on the destinies of South Africa, at a scattered village on the borders, must have been connected with singular and interesting associations.
From Port Elizabeth to Graham’s Town one scene of joy and welcome presented itself. Soon after landing at the former place, his Excellency made his appearance before a throng of spectators, amongst whom he recognised the Chief Macomo. At sight of him, Sir Harry drew his sword half way from the scabbard, held it thus for a minute, and drove it back again with an expressive gesture of anger and scorn; at which Macomo shrank back, and the crowd laughed. His Excellency afterwards saw Macomo, whom he bitterly upbraided for his treachery, and derided for his folly. As he uttered his reproaches, he ordered him to kneel prostrate before him, which he did, unwillingly enough. “This,” said Sir Harry Smith, placing his foot on the neck of the conquered savage, “this is to teach you that I have come hither to teach Kaffirland that I am chief and master here, and this is the way I shall treat the enemies of the Queen of England.”
On the 17th, as we watched the rockets ascending, and the lights flashing from one end of Graham’s Town to the other, I could not help comparing the circumstances of last year with the present. Then all was gloom, save when the fires on the hill-tops telegraphed mischief between the Kaffirs. Now, beacons blazed, the silent heralds of glad tidings; the very Fingo kraals adjacent to the town sent forth shouts, and torches flitted from hut to hut. Amongst all this stir, there is something interesting in recording where Sir Harry Smith was, and how he was employed, during the rejoicings of the excited populace. Long before the lights were extinguished, he was up and at work. Three o’clock on the morning of the 16th found him at his desk, which he scarcely left till five in the evening. Amid all the din of these rejoicings for the hero of Aliwal, Colonel Somerset, having conquered the I’Slambies, and delivered Páto into his Excellency’s hands, quietly rode into town, unnoticed, but not forgotten by those who, eighteen months before, looked to him for protection and assistance. (See Appendix I.)
On his Excellency’s arrival at Government House, he sent for Sandilla, whom he addressed in severe terms. Sandilla, of course, admitted, in the old style, that he had been in error. On Sir Harry asking him who was now the “Inkosi Enkulu,” (Great Chief) of Kaffirland, he, after a pause, in true Kaffir style, and closely observed by his councillors, replied “Kreli.” At this Sir Harry broke forth, in terms of great anger. “No!” said the Governor, “I am your paramount chief—I am come to punish you for your misdoings—your treachery—and your obstinate folly. You may approach my foot and kiss it, in token of submission, but not until I see a sincere repentance for the past, will I permit you to touch my hand.”
Sandilla was released from confinement by Sir Harry’s order. Chieftainship, in a Kaffir sense, being abolished, and the ex-chiefs being invested with a sort of magisterial influence over their people, checked by British rule, a baton of office was sent to to be placed in the ground before his hut, side by side with the wand always planted there as a symbol of authority. His wand is surmounted by a cow’s tail, and marks the chief’s residence from the other huts of Kraal. The baton given by Sir Harry is a stick, with a brass knob at the top of it. A proclamation, dated the 17th of December, 1847, announced the Keiskama as the boundary of the Colony. The advantages of such a line of demarcation, I have before alluded to.
At noon, on the 20th, his Excellency was in the saddle, en route for King William’s Town, viâ Fort Hare and Post Victoria. He was accompanied by the heads of departments in general, and by his staff. At Fort Hare, the party was entertained at dinner by the officers of the 45th Regiment, and next day, proceeding to King William’s Town, breakfasted on the road in the Tyumie valley. At King William’s Town, Sir Harry had appointed a meeting of the Chiefs of Kaffirland, desiring them to obey him, or abide the consequences. They knew him too well to hesitate.
In the mean time, Páto, hearing that Colonel Somerset was again on the track in search of him, grew frightened; and, as this officer was en route with his force, the rebel savage sent his councillors, with an offer of five thousand head of cattle, and a promise of surrender, if his life might be spared.
It was on Sunday, the 19th of December, while Sir Harry Smith was yet in Graham’s Town, that the work of Colonel Somerset was, so to speak, brought to a close by the surrender of Páto.
While moving with his forces towards the Kei, and debating where he should “off-saddle” and bivouac, for a short refreshment, Colonel Somerset observed two Kaffirs riding at a rapid gallop towards him. These were two of Páto’s councillors, who looked tired and frightened beyond description, but they rode direct for Colonel Somerset; and, as soon as one of them could get breath, he spoke. He had been sent by his chief, he said, to make terms of surrender. “The tribe was broken up. Páto was hunted down, and could hold out no longer.” Colonel Somerset asked what guarantee he should have that Páto would keep his word: a word which had been broken so often? “I am Páto’s mouth,” said the messenger; “I speak his word, and now it is true. I have been told to ride and find Somerset, or die.”
Colonel Somerset refused to give any promise until Páto came forward personally, and surrendered at discretion. With this answer, the councillors departed. Old Cobus Congo, Páto’s brother, next made his appearance, and Colonel Somerset’s peremptory command to have the arms given up was followed by the approach of Kaffirs in all directions, hurrying down the hills, and emerging from the apparently uninhabited kloofs, with guns and assegais. The eminences, which had appeared untenanted by man, were now dotted with these wretched creatures; the silent krantzes gave up the warriors long concealed therein; and, two days afterwards, Páto, with twelve councillors, all haggard, dirty, and trembling with terror, approached the bivouac, and, in a state of the most abject misery, the treacherous savage surrendered himself. He had been “hunted from rock to rock,” he said, “for three months: he was no longer a man, but a baboon, for he had been dwelling among the monkeys; he had concealed himself where no cavalry could come, but the dreaded name of Somerset had stirred him from his hiding-place, and he now implored to be taken out of the bush.” He spoke of the miseries to which he and his people had been subjected; at times, they had not been able to kill an ox for food, and some of his followers had been compelled to eat their shields. (This was no more than our allies, the Fingoes, were frequently obliged to do.)
All his professions were in a tone of the deepest humility. In short, he had been hunted like a dog, as he deserved, and he was ready to submit to anything to be allowed to have the mountains near the Amapondas, and to “sit still,” at least, for a season.
Colonel Somerset was, of course, perfectly aware of the motives which directed this pacific movement on the part of Páto, who was quite ready to submit to any terms for the present. Cattle were demanded. Páto promised five thousand head down. More arms were asked for; the ease with which many guns and assegais had already been produced, was sufficient guarantee for the future. Colonel Somerset, however, held no responsible position as a diplomatist; during the whole war he had only been the fighting-man in Kaffirland. So, having beaten Sandilla, Páto, Umhala, Souto, Stock, etc, etc, and their tribes, he was to submit the rebel and his propositions to Sir Harry Smith, and his Excellency was to meet the Chiefs at King William’s Town, and hold a parley there on the 23rd of December, preparatory to the great meeting on the 7th January, 1848. This last assembly was fixed on that day as the anniversary of a solemn convocation of the kind, held on the 7th January, 1836.
The present Governor has, as Umhala would say, “ears that hear,” and “eyes that see,” and will not abuse or neglect the confidence reposed in him by the colonists. His Excellency’s decisive replies to the Chiefs when he met them at King William’s Town, and the clearness with which he impressed on their minds that they held their present position only by right of active allegiance on their parts towards the British Government, were the best guarantees of the manner in which he would carry out the plans as yet only in abeyance. “I am the Inkosi Enkulu (the Great Chief) of Kaffirland,” said he. “From me, as the representative of the Queen of England, you hold your lands. My word shall be your law, and whoso shall disobey it, him will I sweep from the land!”
Now, one great secret of Sir Harry Smith’s rule is, that the Kafirs know he will execute what he threatens. They are sure he will keep his word. As Páto knew Colonel Somerset would never rest till he found him and hunted him and his people down, so Gaikas and I’Slambies, Tambookies and Zooluhs, feel that Sir Harry Smith, too, will be “up and doing” among them, if they fail in their promises.
When Sir Benjamin D’Urban resigned the Government, in 1836, he took up his residence near Cape Town, and there, for ten long years, he sorrowfully abided the result of the system which had been introduced by his opponents. His friends thought that he ought to proceed to England, and there expose the mischiefs that were gathering round the Colony; but he “bided his time,” and it was not until the events of the war had proved the soundness of his former arguments, and that he had truly described the Kaffirs as “irreclaimable savages,” that he repaired to the Colonial Office in London. His statements had now their due weight, and the offices of Governor and Commander-in-Chief were again united in the person of Sir Harry Smith, whose opportune arrival in England from India was hailed with joy by the very party that had, in 1836, discarded the opinions and overthrown the policy of Sir Benjamin D’Urban and Sir Harry himself. His appointment to the Government of the Cape soon followed his triumphant reception at home as the hero of our Indian successes.