Chapter Twenty Two.
The President, who had been elected so often that the office promised, so far as he was concerned, to be a perpetual one, is a hearty, genial gentleman, beloved by all who know him. He is a native of Cape Town, and received his education in England. The welfare of the little republic, over which he has so long and so wisely ruled, is the dearest object of his heart.
We met the President and his wife, who invited us to call at their residence, a large, two-storey “White House,” as it is called, surrounded by extensive grounds in the prettiest spot on the outskirts of the town. We were told by residents that our visit would be very formal, but it did not prove to be so. We found them both most charming and affable people. A luncheon of delicacies and choice fruits from their own orchard was laid for us, and Mrs Brand, or “Lady Brand,” as she is more generally called, was so bright and witty that an hour passed away very pleasantly. She is a large, striking-looking woman of noble features, and with a mind capable of assisting her husband in matters of state. Her best sympathies are with her people, and no one deplores more than she the lamentable ignorance to be found in the remote districts. It rests with the people themselves to remove this ignorance; excellent boarding-schools, both government and private, are established in every village throughout the country. She has unbounded confidence in the capabilities of the Dutch to govern themselves. Certainly, if the country can produce more such people as her noble husband and herself, they will have no difficulty in finding a leader.
The President seemed greatly interested in us as being Americans, and asked us question after question about our customs and form of government. A special session of the Volksraad was called while we were in the town, to discuss the condition of the Transvaal, which was now in open revolt, and we had an opportunity of seeing the representative men of the country. They came to town in all sorts of vehicles, European and American carriages, Cape carts and ox-wagons. The many vehicles, all drawn by handsomely matched horses, made the town very bright and gay.
The men who gathered together were, many of them, aliens by birth, but all showed signs of more than average intelligence. The question they had come to discuss, viz, what should be the attitude of their country in the present state of affairs in the Transvaal, was important, for the people of that territory were united to them by many ties. News was brought by post cart that the Boers in the Transvaal, who had long wished to govern themselves, had risen up against English rule, had come riding into Potchefstrom from all the country around, and had taken possession of the town. There we were in the midst of people closely related to the Transvaal, which was but a few days’ ride from us.
As news came that Pretoria, so isolated, was in a state of siege, and that English troops were coming out as fast as the steamers could bring them to put down the Boer rebellion, things began to look interesting. In addition to the troubles in the Transvaal, the Cape Colony was also embroiled in a war with the Basutos, a warlike tribe occupying a large tract of country east of the Free State. What with war with the Basutos on the one side of us, and the Boers on the other, South Africa was not precisely a country to which one felt the Millennium would soon come.
Fighting against the natives, either Zulu or Basuto, is an entirely different kind of warfare from meeting the deadly aim of the Boer on his own soil. In this dry, cruel country, with its natural fastnesses and dry river beds, the Boer from his boyhood wanders, gun in hand, trained to handle it as easily as the English soldier handles his cane when not on duty. When news came in that every officer of a fine English company of brave fellows had been shot, picked off like birds on a fence, a wave of horror swept over the hearts of those friendly to the British flag. The English troops went on nothing daunted, and when fighting on one of the heights were beating their foe, who was turning to flee. At this critical moment they discovered that their leader had neglected to bring sufficient ammunition up the mountain-side. When the Boers saw the situation, and rushed back upon them, the brave English fellows, in their desperation, picked up stones and threw them at their foe, and then, rather than be taken prisoners, jumped down a declivity of a hundred feet to effect their escape.