Still, the moral effect of the recrudescence of the war was lamentable. Everywhere after the occupation of Pretoria the inhabitants had seemed resigned to the state of affairs—the feeling in the colony had been one of acquiescent relief. The rebellious element was glad of the opportunity to settle down. Had these people been shut off from communication with the enemy they would have maintained their calm, and engaged themselves with their former peaceful pursuits. As it was, while the great advance to Pretoria, and subsequently to Delagoa Bay, demanded the presence of the British troops in the north, the country was left open to raiders, who daily grew more audacious as the small successes of their guerilla leaders appeared to give promise of a turn of fortune’s wheel.
And now came the real tug of war. These raiders, both on the brink of the Orange Colony and the Southern Transvaal, kept the peaceable inhabitants of the colony in an unenviable quandary. These, and many others, on taking the oath of neutrality, instead of being made prisoners of war, had been permitted to return to their farms. But under pressure from their old comrades, they now wavered between the obligations of their oath and the calls of friendship—and many of them fell. Men who had been exceptionally well treated were again in arms, sometimes justifying their break of faith by the poor apology that they had not been “preserved from the temptation to commit it.” Naturally, on the return of the troops to again quell a rising in the south, their conduct was not marked by the same leniency which had characterised the original conquest. Still, these parole breakers were not punished with the severity which might have been meted out to them in the same circumstances by other nations. Though we were by the rules of war entitled to shoot men who had broken their parole, we had not availed ourselves of the right.
We remained as humane as the exigence of discipline would permit. Efforts were made to check the general demoralisation by establishing refuge camps for the peaceable along the railway lines, but these camps were mainly tenanted by the women and children of burghers who still determined to flout us.
Lord Milner, in speaking of the situation in the new territories and the Cape Colony, described it as possibly “the most puzzling that we have had to confront since the beginning of the war.” On the one hand there was the outcry for greater severity and for a stricter administration of martial law. On the other hand, there was the expression of the fear that strict measures would only exasperate the people. He himself was in favour of reasonable strictness as the proper attitude in the presence of a grave national danger, and he further affirmed that exceptional regulations for a time of invasion, the necessity of which every man of sense could understand, if clearly explained and firmly adhered to, were not only not incompatible with, but actually conducive to, the avoidance of injustice and cruelty. He went on to say:—
De Wet’s Rush in Cape Colony viâ Zand Drift, 10th February 1901
“I am satisfied by experience that the majority of those Dutch inhabitants of the Colony who sympathise with the Republics, however little they may be able to resist giving active expression to that sympathy when the enemy actually appear amongst them, do not desire to see their own districts invaded or to find themselves personally placed in the awkward dilemma of choosing between high treason and an unfriendly attitude to the men of their own race from beyond the border. There are extremists who would like to see the whole of the Cape Colony overrun. But the bulk of the farmers, especially the substantial ones, are not of this mind. They submit readily enough even to stringent regulations having for their object the prevention of the spread of invasion. And not a few of them are, perhaps, secretly glad that the prohibition of seditious speaking and writing, of political meetings, and of the free movement of political firebrands through the country, enables them to keep quiet, without actually themselves taking a strong line against the propaganda, and, to do them justice, they behave reasonably well under the pass and other regulations necessary for that purpose, as long as care is taken not to make these regulations too irksome to them in the conduct of their business, or in their daily lives.”
He suggested that the fact that there had been an invasion at all was no doubt due to the weakness of some of the Dutch colonists in tolerating, or supporting, the violent propaganda, which could not but lead the enemy to believe that they had only to come into the Colony in order to meet with general active support. But this had been a miscalculation on the part of the enemy, though a very pardonable one. They knew the vehemence of the agitation in their favour as shown by the speeches in Parliament, the series of public meetings culminating in the Worcester Congress, the writings of the Dutch press, the very general wearing of the Republican colours, the singing of the Volkslied, and so forth, and they regarded these demonstrations as meaning more than they actually did. Three things were forgotten. Firstly, that a great proportion of the Afrikanders in the Colony who really meant business, had slipped away and joined the Republican ranks long ago. Secondly, that the abortive rebellion of a year ago had left the people of the border districts disinclined to repeat the experiment of a revolt. Thirdly, that owing to the precautionary measures of the Government the amount of arms and ammunition in the hands of the country population throughout the greater part of the Colony is not now anything like as large as it usually was, and far smaller than it was at the onset of the war.
In regard to the “call to arms” that took place on the 1st of January, and the vehement response it had met, Lord Milner stated that it had always been admitted, by their friends and foes alike, that the bulk of the Afrikander population would never take up arms on the side of the British Government in this quarrel, even for local defence. The appeal therefore had been virtually directed to the British population, mostly townspeople, and to a small, but no doubt very strong and courageous, minority of the Afrikanders who have always been loyalists. These classes had been already immensely drawn on by the Cape Police, the regular Volunteer Corps, and the numerous Irregular Mounted Corps which had been called into existence because of the war. There must have been 12,000 Cape colonists under arms before the recent appeal, and as things were going, as many more promised to answer that appeal—a truly remarkable achievement under a purely voluntary system.