"The scene which ensued baffles description. The men hoisted the colours half-mast high. The Union Jack was pulled down and dragged through the mud. The distinctive ribbons worn round the hats of the men as badges were pulled off and trampled underfoot. I saw men crying like children with shame and despair. Some went raving up and down that they were Englishmen no longer; others, with flushed and indignant faces, sat contemplating their impending ruin, 'refusing to be comforted.' It was a painful, distressing, and humiliating scene, and such as I hope never to witness again. While I write, the remembrance of it comes vividly before me; and as I recall to mind the weeping men and women, the infuriated volunteers, and the despairing farmers and storekeepers, half crazy with the sense of wounded national honour, and the prospect of loss and ruin before them, my blood boils within me, and I cannot trust myself to commit to paper what I think. The lapse of two years has but deepened the feeling which I then experienced. The subject may perhaps be only unpleasant to people at home, but to me personally, who have seen the ruin and dismay brought upon the too credulous loyalists, the recollections it stirs up are more bitterly mortifying than words can describe."
Mr. Rider Haggard, who at this time was at Newcastle, has also recorded his experiences on the unhappy occasion. He says:—"Every hotel and bar was crowded with refugees who were trying to relieve their feelings by cursing the name of Gladstone with a vigour, originality, and earnestness that I have never heard equalled; and declaring in ironical terms how proud they were to be citizens of England—a country that always kept its word. Then they set to work with many demonstrations of contempt to burn the effigy of the right honourable gentleman at the head of her Majesty's Government, an example, by the way, that was followed throughout South Africa." Talking of the loyal inhabitants in the Transvaal on whom the news burst 'like a thunderbolt,' he explains that they did not say much—because there was nothing to be said! They simply packed up their portable goods and chattels, and made haste to leave the country, "which they well knew would henceforth be utterly untenable for Englishmen and English sympathisers." Here was another great trek—a pathetic exodus of British loyalists whom Great Britain had betrayed. Away they went, these poor believing and deceived people, to try and make new homes and new fortunes, for as soon as the Queen's sovereignty was withdrawn houses and land were not worth a song, and their chances of earning a living were now entirely over, on account of their mistaken loyalty.
The condition of the town is thus described in a journal of the period:—
"The streets grown over with rank vegetation; the water-furrows unclean and unattended, emitting offensive and unhealthy stenches; the houses showing evident signs of dilapidation and decay; the side paths, in many places, dangerous to pedestrians—in fact, everything the eye can rest upon indicates the downfall which has overtaken this once prosperous city. The visitor can, if he be so minded, betake himself to the outskirts and suburbs, where he will perceive the same sad evidences of neglect, public grounds unattended, roads uncared for, mills and other public works crumbling into ruin. These palpable signs of decay most strongly impress him. A blight seems to have come over this lately fair and prosperous town. Rapidly it is becoming a 'deserted village,' a 'city of the dead.'"
RETROCESSION
The Government, through the medium of the Queen's Speech, had announced its intention of vindicating her Majesty's authority in the Transvaal. This was in January 1881. About that time President Brand, of the Orange Free State, formed himself into a species of Board of Arbitration between the contending parties—Boers and British. The reason for this intervention was threefold—first, he genuinely desired to avoid further bloodshed; second, he as genuinely hoped, under a mask of neutrality, to advance the Dutch cause throughout South Africa; and third, he amicably wished to put himself in the good graces of the British Government. Prior to General Colley's death Mr. Brand had urged him to allow peace to be made, and to guarantee the Boers not being treated as rebels if they submitted. General Colley was no quibbler with words. He would give no such assurance. He proposed, in a telegram to the Colonial Secretary, to publish an amnesty on entering the Transvaal to all peaceable persons—excepting one or two prominent rebels. On the 8th of February (the day of the battle of the Ingogo), a telegram was received from home, promising a settlement upon the Boers ceasing from armed opposition. This showed that the Government had early begun to put their foot on the first rung of the ladder of disgrace—it can be called by no other term—and that the "climb-down" policy was already coming into practice. An unfortunate game at cross-purposes seems to have been going on, for Mr. Brand was proposing to Lord Kimberley that Sir H. de Villiers—the Chief-Justice of the Cape, should be appointed as Commissioner to go to the Transvaal to arrange matters, while at the same time Sir George Colley was telegraphing a plan to be adopted on entering the Transvaal, a plan which should grant a complete amnesty only to Boers who would sign a declaration of loyalty.
Lord Kimberley welcomed the suggestion of Mr. Brand, and agreed, if only the Boers would disperse, to appoint a Commission with power to "develop the permanent friendly scheme"; and "that, if this proposal is accepted, you now are authorised to agree to suspension of hostilities on our part." At the same time the War Office informed General Colley that the Government did not bind his discretion, but was anxious to avoid effusion of blood. Lord Kimberley's telegram was forwarded to Colley and to Joubert. Colley was dumfounded. He telegraphed back: "There can be no hostilities if no resistance is made; but am I to leave Laing's Nek in Natal territory in Boer occupation, and our garrisons isolated and short of provisions—or occupy former and relieve latter?"
Lord Kimberley's reply was characteristically ambiguous. The garrisons were to be left free to provision themselves, but Sir George was not to march to the relief of garrisons or occupy Laing's Nek if an arrangement were proceeding.
Meanwhile President Brand and Lord Kimberley held an unctuous telegraphic palaver, which may diplomatically be viewed as the beginning of the end. This humiliating end was hastened by the fiasco of Majuba on the 27th of February, though before it came to pass Sir Frederick Roberts was despatched with reinforcements to Natal. Sir Evelyn Wood assumed temporary command of the forces after Colley's death. Colonel Wood was asked by Lord Kimberley to obtain from Kruger a reply to a letter General Colley had forwarded before Majuba, requesting a reply in forty-eight hours. The reply, an ingenuous one, came on the 7th of March. Kruger was glad to hear that her Majesty's Government were inclined to cease hostilities, and suggested a meeting on both sides. On the 12th of March Lord Kimberley telegraphed to Sir Evelyn Wood, saying that if the Boers would desist from armed opposition, a Commission would be appointed to give the Transvaal complete internal self-government under British suzerainty, with a British Resident to look after the natives.
The Boers at the same time made a communication. They refused to negotiate on the basis of Lord Kimberley's telegram of the 8th, as it would be tantamount to an admission that they were in the wrong. They would accept nothing short of the restoration of the Republic with a British protectorate. This the Home Government accepted, and thus the "climb down" was complete.