Sir George sent his own carriage horses to India, there to be yoked to smoking guns, and went afoot in Cape Town. The maintenance of peace, among the pugnacious chiefs of South Africa, depended mainly upon his personal influence with them. He borrowed horses and rode round among those chiefs, binding them over, in their only recognisances, as honourable men, not to disturb the country. It was a strange Pax Britannica; an affair of novel, almost quixotic, elements. But it went through royally.
'You know,' one fancies Sir George delivering himself during his circuit of the kraals, 'the Queen, for whom I speak, has to quell a rising which threatens all that is good in one of her other possessions. Those who fight against her are of exceeding number, while her forces there are comparatively few. Now, you are all warriors of experience who, if there must be fighting, would like to see a fair contest. In England the Queen has many soldiers, but England is as far again from India as we are. Thus, I can send troops from here in less time, and I am doing so, relying upon you, as gentlemen, to see that the peace is kept while they are away. With you, therefore, I leave that trust, mindful that we are all subjects of a Queen who loves those who serve her loyally, but who, when justly angered, can strike heavily.'
The velvet glove, fastening with the steel button, was gladly taken up by the chiefs, nor did they betray the Governor's confidence. His invasion of Moshesh, in this relation, was quite an exploit, for the old fellow was stern and wily. Sir George had brought about the cease fire, in a quarrel between the Basutos and the Boers. That gave him the prestige which was requisite for anyone who would go to Thaba Bosigo. Having a Boer for guide, and a few natives for retinue, the Governor presented himself at the outer postern of the stronghold, after darkness had fallen.
'I was admitted,' he said, 'and found Moshesh ill in bed, a bright nightcap, with a tassel, on his head. A more strange, more picturesque conference, bearing upon the well-being of the British Empire, surely never took place. Moshesh was propped up in his bed, his leading men grouped themselves round, and we talked. A fire burned in the place, a tallow candle or two spluttered, making lights and shadows as in a Rembrandt picture. My natives understood Basuto and English, and were the medium for my converse with Moshesh. He was really one of the cleverest fellows in all South Africa, as well as one of the most powerful chiefs. Thus, I was pleased with myself when I left Thaba Bosigo, no longer a Mountain of Midnight, knowing that he was in my league of peace.'
This novel covenant was strictly observed by the chiefs, so assuring the Governor against his neat venture. It hurled him, once more, through the fabric of the British constitution, a road to which he had grown familiar. What should he do but raise two regiments on his own mandate, a usurpation of the sovereign rights. It occurred in this fashion. Bombay had not taken the distemper, rife in such a large area of India. However, Lord Elphinstone learned that a Bombay rising had been arranged for a certain religious festival. He had not forces enough left him to overawe the populace, or, failing that, to cope with an outbreak. He despatched another express to Sir George Grey, at the Cape, to the effect: 'I know you have already denuded South Africa of troops, but I am hoping you may somehow manage to help us against this Bombay crisis.'
Sir George bethought himself of the men, formerly composing the German Legion, who were settled in the Colony. He collected these with what other recruits he could entice, formed them into regiments, and sent them to Bombay. 'I signed the commissions for the officers,' he recalled, 'but I'm afraid my signature would have meant nothing, after the ships were on the high sea. In the event of the men creating a disturbance, the officers would really have had no legal authority to quell it.' He communicated with the East India Company, desiring that the regiments should be put on a regular footing immediately they reached Bombay.
'For raising the regiments,' Sir George continued, 'I was charged at home with a breach of the constitution. It was all that. I got word that I should learn by a later mail what was to be the upshot. A friendly member of the Government wrote me a note beginning: "Dear Grey, you have done for yourself at last; I always feared it would come to this." My own position was very plain. Here was an unconstitutional thing, but a necessary thing.
'Meanwhile I had news from Bombay, that it was the provident arrival of the Germans which, most likely, prevented the outbreak that had been feared. I put the despatch in my pocket, with the reflection: "Ah, they can now interfere with me from London if they will!" There, I judged, they had similar information from Bombay, for I heard nothing farther as to what was to be done with me.
'When the first tidings of the trouble in India reached me, I laid it down that all previous orders and directions from England were cancelled. These had been given before the new position arose, and were, in my judgment, over-borne by the new perils.
'As for myself, in a personal way, I felt that I should not feel it a disgrace to be recalled for doing what I regarded as my duty. I had not very much, but, at the worst, I had enough to live upon.'