In a reply (also dated “7th April”) to an address from the inhabitants of King William’s Town, in which they assured him, “We could have well wished that Her Majesty’s Government had thought fit to have left the final settlement of this war in the hands of your Excellency,” Sir Harry chivalrously put in a plea for those who had inflicted upon him so bitter a humiliation. “You on the spot must have observed how slow the progress of the war occasionally appeared. It may therefore be readily conceived how much Her Majesty’s Government must have been disappointed, who could alone judge of events by reports, and had not the various circumstances before them which were apparent to you.”
General Cathcart reached King William’s Town late on the 9th April, having taken the oaths as Governor at Cape Town on 31st March. Sir Harry received him on the 10th with the same generosity with which in 1836 he had received Capt. Stockenstrom under similar circumstances, and, as General Cathcart writes,[218] devoted the whole of the day “to the purpose of giving me every insight into the affairs of the colony generally, and more particularly of the eastern frontier.”
Next morning at 3, Sir Harry left King William’s Town with his staff. In the darkness of night the inhabitants and troops turned out voluntarily, cheered him enthusiastically, and in considerable numbers escorted him to Fort Murray. Here, though it was still dark, he was met by a body of Kafirs under Pato, who greeted him with shouts of “Inkosi Inkulu!” and, refusing all other escort, he committed himself to their hands. He was much affected, we are told, at parting with his officers, and his voice was scarcely audible when he uttered his last words, “Gentlemen, take care of the soldiers. God bless you!” He then continued his journey with the friendly Kafirs, who were joined on the way by other parties of Kafirs, horse and foot. It was a strange and romantic spectacle.[219]
A few days later, on board the Styx he reached Cape Town. He was received by an immense concourse, cheering enthusiastically, and carried to his carriage under a triumphal arch. Though extremely unwell, he bore himself with his usual energy, and from his carriage rose and briefly thanked the multitude, adding emphatically, “I have done my duty to the Cape of Good Hope.” A public dinner was offered him, but in his situation he felt it right to decline it, upon which the conveners opened a subscription for a “more lasting tribute of respect and esteem.” It took the form of a gift of plate.
During his three days’ stay at Cape Town, addresses were presented to him by the inhabitants, by the tradesmen and mechanics, and by the inhabitants of Rondebosch, where he had resided both as Colonel Smith and as Governor. In his reply to the first, he said—
“In the service of this colony I have spent some of the best years of my life, and, excepting those during which I have been Governor, some of the happiest. At such a moment as this, nothing can be remembered by me, and I am equally certain nothing can be remembered by the citizens of Cape Town and the colonists at large, excepting what would serve to keep alive old kindness and good feeling, and to bury all past differences and temporary estrangements in oblivion.”
To the tradesmen and mechanics, he said, “I am myself a working man. Whatever reputation I may have at any time possessed, I gained simply and solely by being a working man who put his heart into his work.”
To the inhabitants of Rondebosch, after referring to the difficulties he had had to contend with and the failure of his efforts for the good of the Kafirs, he added, “Let us all hope that the distinguished officer who has succeeded me in the government will be able to settle permanently the elements which are already subsiding into peace, and let us all be ready to aid him, heart and hand, in his arduous undertaking.” Those words were the expression of a noble nature incapable of jealousy.
On Saturday, 17th April, at 2 o’clock, Sir Harry and Lady Smith embarked on H.M.S. Gladiator. The multitude of people that turned out to bid them good-bye exceeded anything ever seen in the Colony before; triumphal arches had been erected, the horses were taken out of the carriage, and cheer after cheer arose, to which Sir Harry, in spite of illness, responded with almost juvenile animation, while Lady Smith sat by his side in tears.[220]
Cape Town honoured itself in honouring the veteran who, whatever his faults of judgment, had served the Colony single-heartedly to the utmost of his strength, who by his military genius and promptitude in action had conferred upon it in the past enormous benefits, and whose warmth of heart and loyalty of character had endeared him to all who had known him.