The Last Boer War

by H. Rider Haggard

The ownership of this splendid port was for many years in dispute between this country and the Portuguese, with whose dominions of Mozambique it is connected by a strip of coast, and who have a small fort upon it. This dispute was finally referred by Lord Granville in 1872 to the decision of Marshal MacMahon, and on this occasion, as on every other in which this country has been weak enough to go to arbitration, that decision was given against us. Into the merits of the case it is not necessary to enter, further than to say, as has already been recently pointed out by a very able and well-informed correspondent of the Morning Post, that it is by no means clear by what right the matter was referred to arbitration at all. The Amatongas are in possession of the southern shore of the bay, including, I believe, the Inyack Peninsula and Inyack Island, and they are an independent people. The Swazis also abut on it, and they are independent. What warrant had we to refer their rights to the arbitration of Marshal MacMahon? The evidence of the exercise of any Portuguese sovereignty over these countries is so shadowy that it may be said never to have existed; certainly it does not exist now. This is a point, but it is nothing more. We must take things as we find them, and we find that the Portuguese have been formally declared and admitted by us to be the owners of Delagoa Bay.

Now, so long as we held the Transvaal it did not so much matter who had the sovereignty of the Bay, since a railway constructed from there could only run to British territory. But we gave up the Transvaal, which is now virtually a hostile state, and the contingency which has been so long foreseen in South Africa, and so blindly overlooked at home, has come to pass—the railway is in course of rapid completion. What does this mean to us? At the best, it means that we lose the greater part of the trade of South-eastern Africa; at the worst, that we lose it all. In other words, it means, putting aside the question of our Imperial needs and status in Africa, a great many millions a year in hard cash out of the national pocket. Let us suppose that the worst happens, and that the Germans get a footing either in the Transvaal or Delagoa Bay. Obviously they will stop our trade in favour of their own. Or let us suppose that the Transvaal takes advantage of one of our spasms of Imperial paralysis, such as afflicted us during the régime of Lord Derby, and defies the provision in the convention which forbids them to put a heavier tax upon our goods than upon those of any other nation. In either event our case would be a bad one, for our road from the eastern coast to the vast interior is blocked. But it is of little use crying over spilt milk, or anticipating evils which it is our duty to try to avert, and which in all probability still could be averted by a sound and consistent policy.

To begin with, both Swaziland and Amatongaland can be annexed to the Empire. It is true that the independence of the first of these countries is guaranteed by Article xii. of the convention of London of 1884. Here is the exact wording:—"The independence of the Swazis within the boundary-line of Swaziland, as indicated in the first article of this convention, will be fully recognised." But England has for years exercised a kind of protective right over Swaziland—a right, as I have already shown, fully acknowledged and frequently appealed to by the Swazis themselves. And for the rest, what is the obvious meaning of this provision? It means that the independence of Swaziland is guaranteed against Boer encroachments; its object was to protect the Swazis from extermination at the hands of the Boers. Further, the Boers have again and again broken this article of the convention in their repeated attempts to get a foothold in Swaziland. It has now become necessary to our interests that the Swazis should come under our rule, as indeed they are most anxious to do, and a way should be found by which this end can be accomplished.

Then as to Amatongaland, or Maputaland, as it is sometimes called, only a month or two ago an embassy from the Queen of that country waited on the Colonial Office, praying for British protection. It is not known what answer they received; let us trust that it was a favourable one.[20] The protection that should be accorded to the Amatongas, both in their interests and our own, is annexation to the British Empire upon such terms as might be satisfactory to them. The management of their country might be left to them, subject to the advice of a Resident, and the enforcement of the ordinary laws respecting life and property common to civilised states. Drink and white men might be strictly excluded from it, unless the Amatongas should wish to welcome the latter. But the country, with its valuable but undefined rights over Delagoa Bay, should belong to England, for whoever owns Swaziland and Amatongaland will in course of time be almost certain to own the Bay also. It must further be remembered that circumstances have already given us certain rights over the Amatongas. They regarded Cetywayo as their suzerain, and it was, I believe, at his instance that Zambila was appointed regent during the minority of her son. As we have annexed what remains of Zululand, Cetywayo's suzerainty has consequently passed to us.

Meanwhile, can nothing be done by direct treaty with the Portuguese? A little while ago the Bay could no doubt have been acquired for a very moderate consideration, but those golden opportunities have been allowed to slip from hands busy weaving the web of party politics. Now it is a different affair. Delagoa Bay is of no direct value to Portugal except for the honour and glory of the thing. Portugal has never done anything with it, any more than she has with her other African possessions, and never will do anything with it. But it has become very valuable, indeed, so far as its South African interests are concerned, almost vital, to this country, and of that fact Portugal is perfectly well aware. Consequently, if we want the Bay we must pay for it, if not in cash, at the offer of which the Portuguese national pride might be revolted, then in some other equivalent. Surely a power like England could find a way of obliging one like Portugal in return for this small concession. Or an exchange of territory might be effected. Perhaps Portugal might be inclined to accept of some of our possessions on the West Coast or an island or two in the West Indies. It is hard to suppose that there is no way out of the trouble; but if indeed there is none, why, then, one must be found, or we must be content to lose a great part of our African trade.

The reader who has followed me through this brief and imperfect summary of recent events in South Africa will see how varied are its interests, how enormous its areas, and how vast its wealth. In that great country England is still the paramount power. Her prestige has, indeed, been greatly shaken, and she is sadly fallen from her estate of eight or nine years gone. But she is still paramount; and if she has to face the animosity of a section of the Boers, she can, notwithstanding her many crimes against them, set against it the love and respect of every native in the land, with the exception, perhaps, of a few self-seekers and intriguers. The history of the next twenty years, and perhaps of the next ten, will decide whether this country is to remain paramount or whether South Africa is to become a great Dutch, English-hating Republic. There are some who call themselves Englishmen, and who possessed by that strange itch which prompts them to desire any evil that can humble their country in the face of her enemies, or can bring about the advantage of the rebel to the injury of the loyal subject, to whom this last event would be most welcome, and who have not hesitated to say that it would be welcome. To such there is nothing to be said. Let them follow their false lights and earn the wonder of true-hearted men and the maledictions of posterity.

But, addressing those of other and older doctrines, I would ask what such an event would mean? It would mean nothing less than a great national calamity; it would mean the utter ruin of the native tribes; and, to come to a reason which has a wider popularity, for as I think Mr. S. Little says in his work on South Africa, "the argument to the pocket is the best argument to the man," it would mean the loss of a vast trade, which, if properly protected, will be growing while we are sleeping. And this calamity can yet be averted; the mistakes and cowardice of the past can still be remedied, at any rate to a great extent; the door is yet open. We have many difficulties to face, among the chief of which are the Transvaal, the question of Delagoa Bay, and last, but not least, the question of the Dutch party at the Cape, which may be numerically the strongest party. When, in our mania for representative institutions, we thrust responsible government upon the Cape, we placed ourselves practically at the mercy of any chance anti-English majority. It is possible that in the future we may find some such majority urging upon an English Ministry the desirability of the separation of the Cape Colony from the Empire, and may find also that the prayer meets with favourable attention from those to whom there is but one thing sacred, the rights of a majority, and especially of an agitating majority.

But let not the country be deceived by any such representations. The natives too have a right to a voice in the disposal of their fortunes and their lands. They are the majority in the proportion of three to one, and let any doubter go and ask of them, anywhere from the Zambesi to Cape Agulhas, whether they would rather be ruled by the Queen or by a Boer Republic, and hear the answer. When it was a question of surrendering the Transvaal we heard a great deal of the rights of some thirty thousand Boers, and very little, or rather nothing, of the rights of the million natives who lived in the country with them, and to whom that country originally belonged. And yet, if the reader will turn to that part of this book which deals with the question, he will find that they had an opinion, and a strong one. No settlement of South African questions that does not receive adequate consideration from a native point of view can be a just settlement, or one which the Home Government should sanction. Moreover, the Cape is not by any means entirely anti-English at heart, as was shown clearly enough by the number and enthusiasm of the loyalist meetings when its Ministry was attempting to undo Mr. Mackenzie's work in Bechuanaland in the interests of the Patriot-party.

Still, it is possible that movements may arise under the fostering care of the Africander Bond and its sympathisers, having for object the separation of the colony from the Empire, or other ends fatal to Imperial interests; and in this case the Home Government should be prepared to disallow and put a final stop to them. We cannot afford to lose our alternative route to India and to throw these great territories into the hands of enemies, from which they would very probably pass into those of commercial rivals. In such an event all that would be required is a show of firmness. If once it was known that an English Ministry really meant what it said, and that its promises made in the Queen's name were not liable to be given the lie by a succeeding set of politicians elected on another platform, there would be an end to disloyalty and agitation in South Africa. As it is, loyalists, remembering the experiences of the last few years, are faint-hearted, never knowing if they will meet with support at home, while agitators and enemies wax exceeding bold.

Our system of party government, whatever may be its merits, if any, as applied to Home politics, is a great enemy to the welfare and progress of our Colonies, the affairs of which are, especially of late years, frequently used as stalking-horses to cover an attack upon the other side. Could not the two great parties agree to rule Colonial affairs, and especially South African affairs, out of the party game? Could not the policy of the Colonial Office be guided by a Commission composed of members of different political opinions, and responsible not to party, but to Parliament and the country, instead of by a succession of Ministers as variable and as transitory as shadows? Lord Rosebery and Mr. Chamberlain, for instance, are Radicals; but, putting aside party tactics and exigencies, are their views upon Colonial matters so widely different from those of, let us say, Sir Michael Hicks Beach and Lord Carnarvon that it would be impossible for these four gentlemen to act together on such a Commission? Surely they are not; and perhaps a day may come when the common-sense of the country will lead it to adopt some such system which would give to the Colonies a fixed and intelligent control aiming at the furtherance of the joint interests of the Empire and its dependencies. If it ever does, that day will be a happy one for all concerned.