The condition of affairs in the Transvaal was no better. We Free-Staters had thought—and I, for one, had supported the view at Vereeniging—that, before sacrificing our independence, we ought to tell the owners of these farms, where there were still women and children, to go and surrender with their families, and thus save them from starvation. But we soon realized that such a course was not practicable—it would involve the loss of too many burghers.
Moreover, even if, by some such scheme as this, we had succeeded in saving the women, we, who remained in the field, would still have been exposed to the dangers of starvation, for many of us, having no horses, could not have left want behind us, by removing to Cape Colony or some other equally prosperous region.
In the large eastern divisions of the Transvaal also, there were many burghers without horses, while the poor jaded creatures that remained were far too feeble and exhausted to carry their masters into Cape Colony, without the certainty of being captured by the enemy.
Our forces were now only twenty thousand in all, of which the Transvaal supplied ten thousand, the Free State six thousand, while the remainder came from Cape Colony. But our numerical weakness would not in itself have caused us to abandon the struggle had we but received encouraging news from the Colony. But alas! reports which we received from there left us no room for hope.
No room for hope! that was the message of Vereeniging—a message which struck a chill in every heart. One after another we painted the destitution, the misery of our districts, and each picture was more gloomy than the last. At length the moment of decision came, and what course remained open to us? This only—to resign ourselves to our fate, intolerable though it appeared, to accept the British proposal, and to lay down our arms.
Most bitter of all was the thought that we must abandon our brethren in Cape Colony and in Natal, who had thrown in their lot with ours. And many a sleepless night has this caused me. But we could not help ourselves. There was nothing else to do.
And as things have turned out, may we not hope that the Cape and Natal Governments, following in the wake of the British Nation, will soon understand that the wiser course is to forgive and forget, and to grant as comprehensive an amnesty as possible? It is surely not unjust to expect this of these Governments, when one remembers that whatever the Colonists may have done, must be ascribed to the tie that binds them to us—the closest of all ties—that of blood.
It is now for the two Governments to strive to realize the situation, and then, by granting a general amnesty, to promote, as far as in them lies, the true progress of South Africa.
On the evening of the 31st of May, 1902, the members of the Government of both Republics met Lord Kitchener and Lord Milner, in the former's house, at Pretoria.