‘Her court was pure; her life serene;
God gave her peace; her land reposed;
A thousand claims to reverence closed
In her as Mother, Wife, and Queen;
‘And statesmen at her council met
Who knew the seasons when to take
Occasion by the hand, and make
The bounds of freedom wider yet
‘By shaping some august decree,
Which kept her throne unshaken still,
Broadbased upon her people’s will,
And compass’d by the inviolate sea.’”
—Tennyson.
PRETORIA
Pretoria, like most South African towns, dozes in the lap of the hills, dozes tranquilly in a haven of generous nature, as dozed her Dutchmen in the midst of growing civilisation. The place from the distance is fair to the eye, poplar-groved, verdant, and picturesque, with the glimmer of red roofs cutting against the green, and veils of gauzy clouds, now grey, now purple, now azure, interlacing the hills and linking them with the sky. Its quaint, old, low-storeyed houses—in some cases thatched like bungalows—and its more modern tenements roofed with zinc, and bounded by pleasant rose-gardens tangled with flowers, seemed to the new-comers strangely suburban in contrast with the imposing Government buildings and shops which were soon alive with all the fluster of nineteenth-century money-getting.
For the great entry made, the capital was swift to resume its everyday aspect, and trade grew even brisker than before. Famine prices reigned: though in some hotels where comforts were many, baths and sanitary arrangements were primitive. The Boers were busy “making hay while the sun shone,” consequently living became twice as expensive as in England; and, what was worse, with the enormous and somewhat voracious army to be fed, supplies threatened at no very remote date to become exhausted.
At first all things seemed to denote that the war was practically over, that nothing remained but to accept the surrender of the defeated Boers, and to settle quickly the administration of the conquered Republics. By degrees, however, disappointment set in—disappointment not unmixed with alarm. The redoubtable Christian de Wet had theories of his own; he put on his shoulders the mantle of the deposed Cronje, and set to work to show his generalship by destroying the railway in the south, cutting the telegraph wires, and generally harassing the lines of communication. Indeed, there was every appearance that the late investing forces might in their turn become invested in the capital. Postal and telegraphic communications were cut, supplies and reinforcements were menaced, and gradually the sunny outlook of conquest grew nebulous.
The defeated forces also began to concentrate at Machadodorp, beyond Middelburg, where Mr. Kruger was actively engaged in conference with his friends. They were not devoid of funds, for it was found that before leaving Pretoria the Boer officials had provided themselves with £300,000 from the National Bank, and while this sum lasted and he remained in the country, it was argued that Mr. Kruger’s schemes of bribery and corruption might be expected to continue, and even develop. Still Lord Roberts was undismayed! He had foreseen attacks on his communications, but had hazarded all on the one throw of reaching the capital before the Boers could gather together their forces for organised resistance, pushing forward in the only way possible if the conquered were to be left breathless. Napoleon’s advice to one of his marshals, “A commander-in-chief should never give rest either to the victor or the vanquished,” had been followed to the foot of the letter, as the French say.
In this notable march the marvellous genius of Lord Roberts had been shown in many ways, but in courage before all. He had adapted his fighting dispositions on a system specially suitable to the idiosyncrasies of the Boers—had observed their natural disinclination to take the initiative, their failure to act on the offensive rather than the defensive, and, on this discovery, had invented new tactics which were exactly appropriate and eminently successful. His infantry had made the centre of the advancing line to east and west of the rail, perpetually threatening the enemy with frontal attack, while active and competent wings of mounted troops unceasingly wheeled round both flanks, threatening to turn them so soon as opportunity should offer. Thus the Boers, for fear of being outflanked, were forced to extend their front till the central position—at the railway line—became too weak for resistance, and they had of necessity to retreat, and continue to retreat, till they were too exhausted to do more than run.