VIII
The preliminary trial dragged its undignified course through the Courts with a fortnight's interruption, because a youth named Shumacher refused to give his opinions on a certain subject to the Attorney-General, and was committed to prison for contempt.
The High Commissioner was going through genuflexions before the Boer President. Peace, peace, at any price! at the cost of broken promises, humiliating compromises, and the lives of sixty-four Reformers, if need be.[[8]]
Mr. Chamberlain had caught the infection, and was salaaming across the world to Mr. Kruger, like a marionette out of a box. Thoughtful people began to wonder if he were swung by a heavy weight, which was unknown to us. Sir William Harcourt was giving the House of Commons, in England, ill-founded and flippant assurances that 'the Uitlanders desired no interference from the outside, whether British or other, but preferred rather to work out their own salvation.' He added many unpleasant remarks about the Reformers. I said to one of his countrymen, 'Why does he, in his safety, flourish about, pinning us deeper down in the wreckage?'
'Don't let that distress you. Everybody understands that he belongs to the other party. If he were of the party in power he would be howling for the Reformers. Remember, Mrs. Hammond, that our system of party politics seems to call for such attitudes of injustice.' I didn't quite understand the argument, but the gentleman spoke with conviction, and I was willing to accept his proffered comfort.
In our quiet home at Park Town we had settled down to domestic routine. The guard had gone to housekeeping in a tent under the dining-room window. They had made friends with Totsey, and then with Totsey's master, little Jack. Although I never recognised them beyond a formal bow, in answer to their salute as we drove in and out of the grounds, I realised that they were kind-hearted men. They were Burghers belonging to the Volunteer Corps, and were quite a different grade altogether from the men who composed our guard at Pretoria. At first we had thirteen, then the number was diminished to nine. Each man was paid $5.00 a day out of my good man's pocket, fed, and cab fare provided (to fetch and carry the relief squad from and to the town).
It was very like boiling a kid in its mother's milk, but I had the gratification of remarking once or twice with casual superiority during conjugal conversation, that revolutions were expensive things, and that was some comfort.
My invalid's health, which at first showed a decided change for the better, began to wane again. Massage was tried, and tonics were freely administered. Dr. Murray and I thought of Cape Town and the sea; but I must own up, it was the officer in charge who was most influential in obtaining a permit for my husband to leave the Transvaal. The bail bond was increased to a hundred thousand dollars. Fearing somebody might change his mind, I insisted on Dr. Murray's starting at once with my husband for the Cape. Jacky was thrown in as a bonus. Parker and I were to follow on the mail train two days later.
The guard, who were by this time genuinely attached to their charge, begged him to be photographed in a group with themselves. To their great pride this was done. I missed my husband just before his departure, and Jacky, joining in my search from room to room, gave the information, 'Papa is playing with his guard outside.' Weak though he was, he had crawled out to the tent, with a big bottle of champagne, and when I stepped to the study window I saw, in the pale twilight, Mr. Hammond standing with the men about him. They lifted their glasses to him, and their hearty cheers shook me through.