Surrender at New Orleans

by David Rooney

  Throughout the summer Harry and Juana received gifts and addresses wherever they went. In Glasgow, their kindness during the difficult postwar times had not been forgotten and they were sent a magnificent piece of silver, together with an invitation for Harry to become their Member of Parliament. He was flattered by this offer, but once again was faced with a financial dilemma – at that time MPs were not paid and he still lacked an assured income. But would Governorship of the Cape put this right?

  Chapter 8

  Governor at the Cape

  September 1847 to February 1850

  Although Harry and Juana had revelled in the euphoria of their welcome back to England, in mixing with the top brass and the aristocracy, and even in dining with Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, despite his brilliant military success, Harry had not benefited financially from his Indian campaigns as much as he might have expected. It is true that he had been rewarded with a baronetcy and Aliwal was proudly displayed on his coat of arms, together with an elephant, but he had not been financially rewarded in the way Gough had been for the Sikh campaign, or Napier, who was far junior to Harry, had been for taking over Sind. As ever Harry and Juana had been spendthrift and had continued their fairly light-hearted approach to money matters.

  It was therefore a great relief to them both when, during a conversation Harry had with the Duke, that Wellington mentioned, almost as an aside, that he would be going to the Cape as Governor and would be promoted to Lieutenant General. In an age of heroes, a combination of circumstance had suddenly favoured Harry. The current Governor, Pottinger, had been totally inadequate and his inept handling of a new Kaffir war on the frontier had been carried out at a very substantial cost in both lives and money. Suddenly, Harry seemed the obvious choice to replace him – his military successes were still fresh in the minds of the Government, and they remembered, too, his vigorous execution of the frontier policy of D’Urban, which had now been vindicated. Pottinger had appeared to stumble from one disaster to another and merely asked for more and more troops, while Harry, who had kept up his interest in South African affairs, had recently sent Wellington a detailed memorandum about the frontier situation. He was absolutely delighted at his appointment, and wrote to his old friend and colleague D’Urban to say that he would go and ‘re-do what Lord Glenelg so ably did undo’. To his further delight, before they left for Cape Town, Harry had several conferences with the Duke himself on both the strategy and tactics of the frontier question, and also on supplies and logistics.

  For Juana it had been the happiest summer since landing at Portsmouth in April 1847 on their return from India. Now, packing up to go to Cape Town was very different, with no great rush and only a few days to catch a waiting ship. As the Governor’s lady she could indulge her joy in fashion, helped by her numerous nieces, all so fond of their generous and attractive aunt. With their financial situation assured, Juana could purchase a wardrobe suitable for her new grand position. No longer the slim young bride of Badajoz, she was now fifty years old and a comely matron with a host of good friends and relations. Harry and Juana, still excited by the challenge, made a leisurely journey from London, reaching Portsmouth in mid-September. Here they spent another ten enjoyable days, being fêted with balls and dinners with old army friends. A highlight for them both came when, at a dinner with the Rifles, Harry proudly replied to the toast of ‘Lady Smith’. The next day, 24 September 1847, they embarked on the ship Vernon bound for Cape Town.

  During their relaxed and trouble-free voyage, Harry turned his mind to the problems he was likely to face when he arrived. He still felt bitter about his dismissal in 1837 and the role in that distressing episode of the evangelical missionary lobby. He was therefore reassured to discover that the Church of England was looking positively towards Cape Colony, had appointed a Bishop of Cape Town and was actively recruiting chaplains to work in the diocese. Lord Glenelg, the former Colonial Secretary, had recalled D’Urban, the Governor, and had appointed in his place Sir George Napier. The immediate consequence was the emigration from the Colony of numbers of Dutch farmers (described by D’Urban as ‘a brave, patient, industrious, orderly, and religious people’). The policy entrusted to the new Governor was that of entering into alliances with the Kaffir chiefs, but experience soon taught him that this was futile and the only possible course was that which had been pursued by his predecessor and Harry. ‘My own experience and what I saw with my own eyes,’ he declared to a Parliamentary Committee in 1851, ‘have confirmed me that I was wrong and Sir Benjamin D’Urban perfectly right; that if he meant to keep Kaffirland under British rule, the only way of doing so was by having a line of forts and maintaining troops in them’.

  In the years between the Smiths leaving Cape Town in 1837 and their return in 1847, more and more Boer farmers had trekked north with their families and cattle into the open areas around the Orange and Vaal rivers. During the early 1840s, Britain, conscious of the growing population on the East Coast, had also taken over the very large area called Natal, and in a belated tribute to Harry’s old friend, named the capital Durban. In all his dealings with the different peoples on the frontier, Harry’s conviction and policy never wavered: that he was bringing the blessings and benefits of Christianity and civilization to the whole area and to all the tribes in it. In all humility, he hoped that he had previously sown some seeds, which might now bear fruit.

  The Vernon arrived in Cape Town on 1 December 1847 with a tumultuous welcome for the Governor and his Lady. They instantly felt that they were back among old friends, even though the Peninsula veterans were thinning out. Almost at once news came of more trouble on the frontier and Harry reassured the rather apprehensive people by merely remarking, ‘Doing something they ought not, I’ll be bound.’ A measure of their worry is shown by the vast crowds who turned out to welcome Harry and Juana with festivities lasting through the night. After all, here was the man who had brought peace and prosperity to the whole border area and whose vigorous actions had subsequently been vindicated. Since then his brisk and confident policies had been proved in the harsh terrain of the Punjab and in the Sikh wars. Surely he could not possibly go wrong in dealing with a few restless Kaffirs on the frontier? Confirming the warmth and sincerity of the welcome at the formal banquet, the Chief Justice, dropping all formality addressed them as ‘Harry Smith and his wife’.

  Sadly, a situation which appeared to have everything in its favour was to prove fraught with grave and unexpected difficulties. Harry’s impetuous and youthful vigour, which had won him so many victories and successes, now developed into an explosive arrogance and an autocratic attitude which speedily offended many of those who had welcomed him back. His former quick temper became more furious, and his blood-curdling threats and colourful language created an atmosphere in which few dared to express a contrary opinion. It seemed that he was at his best when his exuberance was curbed by a more senior figure – like Gough or D’Urban – but when that rein was removed he was dangerously impetuous.

  Taking just a few days to grasp the situation in the Cape, Harry set off on 11 December – not this time on horseback – but by ship to go to Port Elizabeth to tackle the problems of the Kaffirs across the whole frontier area. The upheavals on the frontier had been stirred up by one incident and then the bungled attempts by Pottinger to overcome the ensuing uprisings among the Xhosa people. Two of the most powerful chiefs, Macomo and Sandile had eventually been captured and were held in Grahamstown. When Harry arrived at Port Elizabeth and travelled on to Grahamstown, he was greeted at every stage with joyful welcomes. The people of the frontier had suffered severely from muddled policies incompetently enacted, and remembering Harry’s previous success, they saw him as the new Governor who would solve all their problems.

  Therefore, as soon as possible he had Chief Macomo brought before him. Macomo, an important and influential chief who had been restrained during the recent uprisings, advanced towards Harry and held out his hand. To the amazement of the large crowd who
had been assembled for this occasion, Harry forced Macomo to lie on the floor, placed his foot on the chief ’s neck and shouted that in future this was how all enemies would be treated. This public humiliation created a bitter and life-long enemy of Macomo and seemed totally at odds with the cordial relations Harry had enjoyed with all the chiefs in his previous campaigns on the frontier.

  His initial blunder with the humiliation of Macomo was followed by a second in Grahamstown, where he had been greeted by triumphal arches reading ‘Do justice and Fear Not’. As part of the welcoming ceremony, Harry announced that the Kaffirs would be prostrated under his feet. Another Xhosa chief, Sandile, who had been more fully involved in the recent troubles, but who was young and immature compared to Macomo, was brought forward. Again Harry refused to shake his hand, announcing that he would be punished for his folly and treachery, and would kiss the Governor’s foot as a token of submission. Harry had been advised not to release Sandile, but he ignored the advice, and sent Sandile away hoping, wrongly, that he would go and spread the message that the Governor must be obeyed. These two incidents caused deep concern to many who had welcomed Harry on his return, but now questioned the wisdom of the new policy.

  Harry’s critics maintained that his head had been turned by all the adulation he had received in England after the victory of Aliwal, and that his overbearing arrogance now caused a succession of disasters. He had set out on this latest journey convinced that he could bring the unrest on the frontier to a swift conclusion.

  Harry continued his rapid tour of the colony, announcing the extension of British territory to the Keiskama River. This area was to be called Victoria and would be extended north towards the Orange River. Proposed settlements in this area included Alice – after his sister Mrs Sargant – Whittlesey, Ely and even Juanasburg, suggesting perhaps that his new position had indeed gone to his head. As his progress continued, the local people and settlers alike gave him an enthusiastic reception. He reached King William’s Town on 23 December 1847 and called a great meeting of chiefs and people. In a theatrical performance, having ensured that all weapons had been removed from the braves, with the band playing ‘See the conquering hero comes’, he entered the assembly on horseback and in full-dress uniform, wearing all his decorations and surrounded by his staff. In a lengthy address, he informed the gathering that they were once again under British rule, with laws which would emphasize Christianity and civilization. Then, using a device which had succeeded ten years before, he held out a lance – the symbol of war – and a brass knob as the symbol of the rule of law. While he remained on his horse, each chief had to come forward, kiss his foot and touch either the lance or the brass knob. They, wisely, chose the brass knob. Such formal occasions were repeated in many places.

  On 7 January 1848, he held a great meeting of the chiefs and all the important local people, including missionaries. Here he elaborated his policy, demanding that they gave up abhorrent practices like murder, rape, witchcraft and the buying of wives. Then, fomenting his fury, he swore that if they disobeyed him, ‘I will eat you up’, and with further threats, he warned them that if they dared to make war he would destroy them. Finally, in a famous – or infamous – incident, repeating a trick he had played years before, he indicated a wagon on a nearby crest which his engineers had filled with explosive. He shouted, ‘I am so powerful that I only have to point to that wagon and it will blow up.’ After it blew up, he added, ‘That is what will happen to you if you do not behave yourselves.’

  These histrionics during his tour of the frontier were backed up by a positive and vigorous policy to help keep the peace. Army units were used to enforce law and order, but were clearly instructed that force should only be used as a last resort. The London government had demanded retrenchment, and they supported a policy of encouraging soldiers to retire and take up generous offers of land in military villages along the frontier. This brought more British settlers to the frontier area and it saved the cost of repatriating time-expired men, but it did not always succeed. Many old soldiers turned to drink and caused trouble with Hottentot women. Harry also had to overcome his understandable distrust of the missionaries and he started to encourage their activities on the frontier with grants of land, the development of roads, the establishment of schools and farms, and the fostering of trade.

  Fairly soon, Harry had to come to grips with other long-term issues and problems which would affect the future of the colony, and indeed the whole of southern Africa. To encourage the development of the eastern region, a new port, to be called East London, was established at the mouth of the Buffalo River below King William’s Town. He had hoped to bring some order into the turbulent territories in the areas of the Vaal and Orange Rivers, but his more aggressive policies hardly achieved this. He had already offended Macomo, the Chief of the Xhosa, and when he met Adam Kok, a Griqua chief, he threatened to hang him if he did not sign an agreement. More significant for the future were his meetings with Moshesh, chief of the proud Basutos in their mountain kingdom, and Dingaan the Zulu leader, a descendant of Shaka. Both of these chiefs had already clashed with the Boer settlers who added an explosive element into the situation. Harry was already backing the idea of the Orange River Sovereignty when he met Pretorius, the intrepid Voortrekker leader, who warned him that if the Sovereignty was imposed he would lead his people further north out of the clutches of the British. He then left to consult the various Boer commando leaders. There is little doubt that Harry seriously deluded himself about his influence over the Boers in the frontier areas. Because they had initially welcomed him back with great enthusiasm, he found it difficult to believe that they would not accept his policies.

  Without waiting for a reply from Pretorius, Harry proclaimed the Orange River Sovereignty, which brought 50,000 square miles of land under British control, including huge potential problems with resentful Voortrekkers, Moshesh and the Basuto, the Zulus and the Xhosa. With a wildly optimistic attitude, he left the security of this vast and volatile region to a major and sixty Cape Mounted Rifles. He argued, ‘The Boers are my children.’ In addition to the problems on the ground, Harry had to gain the agreement of Whitehall, which in general was opposed to any extension of the frontier. He argued consistently that if an area was taken over and civilized, it would eventually bring in substantial revenue. London was not entirely convinced, but Grey, the Colonial Secretary, felt that they could not once again withdraw from a territory which had just been taken over. However, very stern advice was issued ‘in terms as explicit as any that can be employed, and under sanctions as grave as can be devised, that the acquisition of any further territory is banned’. The opposition in London warned that they were being committed to an endless succession of expensive frontier wars.

  In spite of all these problems which Harry had tried to tackle during his weeks on the frontier, he was again given a wildly enthusiastic welcome when he returned to Cape Town. He was still seen as the brilliant High Commissioner, who in a few weeks had sorted out the frontier problems, which under previous inept leadership had bedevilled the colony for years.

  Harry had only been back home for a very short time when he received a message from Major Warden, who had been left in charge on the frontier, asking for troop reinforcements because Pretorius was encouraging revolt. Harry then sent a very odd manifesto, which was a mixture of dire threats, appeals to the Boers as fellow Christians, bloodcurdling threats backed by Old Testament quotations and a final prayer for peace. Pretorius hesitated about his next step, partly because his wife was terminally ill, but there was very strong feeling among the Boer trekkers and on 12 July 1849, they persuaded Pretorius to advance to Winburg, challenging the British presence. When the Boers approached, the British magistrate rode off to Bloemfontein to warn Warden and the Cape Mounted Rifles, but, faced by a Boer commando, Warden could do little and he meekly surrendered. Pretorius put him and his supporters in wagons and sent them south.

  Harry was not likely to acquiesce in such a
situation, immediately ordering troops to advance to Colesburg and offering £1,000 reward for the capture of Pretorius. He sent a hurried dispatch to London, assuring Grey that he would rapidly settle the issue and would make the rebel Boers pay for everything. With Grey announcing this in the Commons and the opposition furiously attacking yet another expensive frontier war, Harry rushed off to take command, leaving Juana once again to worry about the danger threatening her Enrique. Units available to him included some Highlanders and a few companies of the Rifles, which Harry dispersed along the frontier. He then set off on another frantic ride, with his ADC Holdich (later General Sir Edward Holdich), and arrived in Colesburg on 9 August.

  Pretorius and his commando were drawn up on a river bank near Colesburg, protected by trenches, and after Harry’s arrival Pretorius sent a petition asking him to withdraw. Harry faced a complex situation with elements which would bedevil South African history for decades to come. Some of the local chiefs offered to support him, but he refused to use native forces against the Boers. At the same time, the Boers themselves were divided and as they did in the Boer War of 1899-1902, resented central discipline, and often went off from the commando to look after their farms and families.