by David Rooney
Pretorius held a strongly fortified post on the far bank of the Orange River, but on 22 August, when Harry’s forces started to cross, the Boers withdrew to another position. This was a foolish move because the river was in full spate and an opposed crossing could have wrought havoc on the attackers. A subaltern from 45th Regiment wrote home with a vivid description of Harry: ‘He is the most extraordinary man I ever met, he is all energy and works from daylight to dark. Swears most awfully at everyone from his ADC down to the drummer boy.’ His forces, which included the Cape Mounted Rifles, units from the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders and the Rifle Brigade, and some Boers who had accepted the Manifesto, took several days to cross the river. (On 29 March, Harry had issued a Manifesto of a typically unconventional kind. He encouraged the farmers to remember all the benefits he had lately conferred on them, such as freedom from nominal subjection to native chiefs, and to contrast the misery from which he had tried to release them, with the happiness of their friends and cousins living under the Colonial Government. If they ‘compelled him to wield the fatal sword, after all he had attempted to do for them, the crime be on their own heads’. He concluded with a prayer to the Almighty in which he suggested that the farmers might unite with him.) Finally, and even more surprisingly, a group of Griquas under Adam Kok, whom Harry had recently berated, joined him. Perhaps they objected to the Boers more than the British.
After crossing the river, the British force advanced across flat country until they came to a range of hills where, as expected, Pretorius took a stand near a farm called Boomplatz. This hardly deserves to be called a battle, for Pretorius, although he chose the ground carefully to ambush the British, only had about 500 men, and half of those were left to guard the wagons. He planned that, as the British approached the farmhouse, he would attack them from three sides. The British advanced in a leisurely way, with Harry still hoping that a compromise might be reached. He sent a unit ahead with orders not to fire, for he could not believe that his friends the Boers would ever fire at him. But he was grievously mistaken – as the leading units approached the farm, the Boers opened fire from three sides. Several men were hit and Harry himself was wounded. With a stream of curses he turned round and led the attack. To the surprise of the Boers, Harry had several 6- and 9- pounder guns in reserve, which he rapidly brought into play and peppered the Boer position with grapeshot. The disciplined and well-trained regulars made a strong attack on the Boer’s left flank and although there was a spirited resistance from the farmhouse, which wounded the colonel of the Rifles, the Boers rapidly retreated. They complained bitterly that Harry had used Griquas and Hottentots against them, but he rejected their complaints and rewarded the Hottentots with extra biscuits and tobacco.
This brief clash cost the British about fifty killed and wounded, with the Boer casualties nearer 200, though all these figures have been hotly disputed. Historians of nineteenth-century wars know that an occasional nought creeps into the numbers of battle casualties to enhance a victory or excuse a defeat. Harry’s wound was duly reported and Queen Victoria, who had personally awarded Juana a special medal for her brave performance on the elephants at Ferozepore, now awarded her a pension of £500 a year at the thought that she might have been left a widow.
During September, Harry set about restoring law and order in Bloemfontein and setting up a new administration. Two rebels were executed but another Boer was pardoned and given a civilian post. The disciplined action of the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders had made a great impact, and in the aftermath of the fighting Harry’s mixture of fierceness and kindness seems to have worked – at least temporarily. He left small garrisons of infantry companies and an artillery unit with the 9-pounder guns which had been so effective at Boomplatz. Durbars and formal parades were held in different places in order to bolster the regime. Harry was particularly pleased that Moshesh, the distinguished chief of the Basuto people, appeared to have become a firm ally. In emphasizing Christianity and civilization, he insisted on frequent church services, with confident appeals to Almighty God. Ever punctilious for things to be done with dignity, on one occasion he was reading the lesson when a dog intruded. He had reached the words ‘And the Lord said’, when he broke off and added, ‘Take that bloody dog out of here.’
After several hectic weeks on the border, Harry set off back to Cape Town. At every stage he was greeted by large and enthusiastic crowds, and then at Port Elizabeth he embarked on the steamer Phoenix and sailed home arriving on 21 October.
Among the thousands of people who turned out to greet Harry on his return to Cape Town in October 1848, none was more relieved than Juana, who from the time of Badajoz onwards had dreaded the separation when Harry was called away on duty, and lived in a state of tense anxiety when he was in action during a war. Her anxiety turned to anguish when she heard that he had been wounded and it was little comfort that she shared her concern with Queen Victoria. She was overjoyed when Harry returned, but alarmed about his haggard looks and exhausted appearance. Now at last she felt they could really enjoy their role as the popular and respected Governor and his Lady in a society which was rapidly developing, because so many of the new steamships called at the Cape on the way to India. While he was away, she had lacked the confidence, and also the energy, to play a really decisive role herself, and in a gossipy expatriate community there had been the beginnings of some grumbling criticism. With her patrician Spanish background, a certain haughtiness seems to have appeared in her demeanor, and her fondness for Spanish fashions and for colourful Indian silks and fabrics was not popular with a basically farming and frontier community. One of her attempts to help the different communities sadly backfired. She tried to foster links with the Indian and Malay communities in the Cape, and occasionally attended displays of nautch dancing – a sensuous dance by women for the erotic entertainment of men, and even then considered dubious. This was seized on by the largely puritanical Boer residents and caused some concern to Bishop Gray in the newly established Anglican diocese. He stoutly defended Juana but was more worried about Harry who, although a staunch Anglican, whose correspondence and speeches frequently referred to Almighty God, seemed to have a remarkable tolerance of other faiths, and even considered opening Islamic schools.
Although Harry’s over-optimistic hopes for peace on the frontier between the Bantu and the Boers initially seemed justified, he and Juana were soon to be caught up in another totally different and controversial issue, the focus of which was in Cape Town. For many years the new colonies in Australia had been used for the transportation of convicts, and the system was well established in what appeared to be a vast and empty area, with very few native peoples. Britain had a totally inadequate number of prisons and the situation had been seriously exacerbated by the results of the Irish famine of the mid-1840s. This put huge pressure on Whitehall and in November 1848 – a couple of weeks after he returned from the frontier – Harry received a dispatch from Earl Grey, the Colonial Secretary, asking if Cape Colony would be prepared to receive what were called ‘ticket of leave’ convicts, i.e. men who had served their time and were considered reliable. Grey supported the idea on the grounds that a useful supply of labour would be provided to help with the economic development of the Colony. He added that the majority of the convicts would not be serious criminals or common felons, but either Irish political prisoners or those affected by the suffering of the Irish famine, whose crime might be stealing food to feed a starving family. It would be reasonable to employ them on public works. He concluded by stating that the British Government was facing a serious crisis and might have to pass an Order in Council designating Cape Colony as a place to which convicts could be sent. He wanted Harry to have due warning of this possibility and to have time to make the necessary arrangements.
For all his previous achievements and successes, this was a totally new and different problem for Harry to face, and it put him in a serious quandary. There was a very strong feeling among the settlers in Cape Town
against the idea of admitting Britain’s convicts, because of the perceived danger of criminal activity spreading to the native people. The personal feelings of Harry and of Juana, who had had longer to assess and understand local opinion, were entirely with the Cape people. Harry, whose whole professional military career had been based on discipline and obedience, and who, as a military commander, was accustomed to making serious and sometimes unpopular decisions, was to find himself increasingly torn between what appeared best in the Cape and what, as Governor, he had to carry out on the orders of Whitehall.
In his dispatch, Grey had used emollient phrases like ‘a few hundred’, and ‘the idea is being considered’, and Harry followed suit. He first mentioned the issue as ‘a few Irish political offenders, not ordinary felons’, and repeated that he was totally opposed to the idea of the Cape becoming a penal settlement. He stressed the duty of the Colony to help the Mother Country, just as the Mother Country had helped the Cape in its recent troubles. Such soft phrases instantly antagonized local leaders, who realized the wider threat. The merchant community immediately demanded full-scale consultation and public meetings, and related this issue to the current discussions about responsible government. Many dispatches and letters crossed between Grey and Harry, and the situation was exacerbated by Grey’s rather casual, aristocratic aloofness, by the instant and growing anger in the Cape, and by the slow communication between London and Cape Town.
Early in 1849 Harry and the colonists hoped that their protestations and massive petitions had been accepted, but a greater crisis was about to erupt because Grey had not been honest in his earlier dispatch to Harry. He had mentioned that an Order in Council was being considered, but he failed to say that in September 1848 it had already been passed, giving the British Government permission to send convicts to the Cape. The tone of Grey’s dispatches rapidly grew harsher and he clearly expected Harry to force the issue through. Harry merely said he would do his best to carry out the Government’s policy. While this increasingly tense correspondence continued, in February 1849, Grey sent a ship, the Neptune, with 300 convicts on board, to Bermuda. There the convicts would be landed and a similar number of ‘ticket of leave’ men would be taken on and delivered to Cape Town. It is clear that Grey expected Harry to enforce this decision.
When Harry returned home in October, Juana had been alarmed because he looked so haggard and exhausted, and for many weeks he failed to recover his normal vigour. As the weeks passed, she was reminded that early in the Peninsula campaign he had suffered severely from boils on his bottom, which had made it very difficult to ride a horse. In the spring of 1849, as a result of the pressure he was under, there was a recurrence of boils, and at the height of the convict crisis he was seriously ill with a large carbuncle on his neck. Juana had to call the doctor urgently and when he lanced the carbuncle Harry lost consciousness. For days he lay so seriously ill that no one was permitted to visit him and the Bishop organized prayers throughout the diocese. This was such a strain on Juana that she too needed medical treatment. The doctor considered that if Harry had not had a robust constitution he would have died.
As he slowly recovered, the fierce tension continued. Virtually all the colonists supported the Anti-Convict Association which had been formed to oppose British policy. Opposition was so strong that dozens of officials resigned, as did members of the Legislative Council. When it became known that the Neptune had left Bermuda and was heading for the Cape, the tension was racked up still further. The Anti-Convict Association and other bodies put forward more and more extreme threats and demands which put Harry in an almost impossible position. At heart he agreed with the colonists, but as Governor he had to carry out the policy dictated from Whitehall. In several letters during May and June 1849, he begged Grey to reconsider the decision because the opposition to the convicts was ‘absolutely frantic’. He also reminded Grey that until the convict issue arose everything had been going very well.
The crisis came to a climax when the Order in Council was formally published in Cape Town on 15 June, and the whole community rose in opposition. The Anti-Convict Association threatened to ostracize anyone who had any contact whatsoever with the convicts when they arrived. Some businesses which had supported Harry were boycotted and financially ruined. The Association demanded that Harry ignore the Order in Council. On 18 June, in a reply charged with emotion, he stated: ‘This is the anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo – for four and forty years I served my sovereign – I say it with pride – and I would rather that God Almighty strike me dead than disobey the orders of Her Majesty’s Government, and thereby commit an act of open rebellion.’ The pressure and tension on Harry and Juana became almost unbearable. Less than a year before they had been warmly greeted as old friends and as saviours of the Colony. Now they were reviled. The local paper mocked and derided them. The money subscribed for an equestrian statue for Harry was diverted to the Anti-Convict Association. On 20 June, the traditional Governor’s Ball to celebrate the Queen’s Accession took place. In the past people went to great lengths to obtain an invitation – now invitations were rudely returned. Many who had accepted now lacked the courage to face the wrath of their neighbours and stayed away. Once again the tension laid Harry low, but he rose from his sick bed to attend the Ball. The voice of the Governor, known for his rasping expletives and blood-curdling oaths, was too weak even to propose the loyal toast. There are several descriptions of the occasion. One said that his deathly pallor was accentuated by the drab green of his Rifles uniform which he proudly wore; another described how he looked as if he had risen from his coffin but was wearing full-dress uniform with all his decorations. Juana, though magnificently dressed in gold and black with an impressive array of diamonds, was noticeably agitated. Socially, the Ball was a complete disaster.
It became increasingly urgent that Harry made the necessary decisions to resolve the crisis. While he tended towards taking a strong line against the Association leaders, his advisers were afraid that such action in the highly volatile situation might provoke a rebellion which could be joined by the supporters of Pretorius on the frontier. The tension continued. The settlers realized that after one of the members of the Legislative Council died there was no longer a quorum to make legal decisions. No one could be found to take the vacant seat. On 10 July, the Court house, where Harry, using his prerogative as Governor, had introduced three new members, was surrounded by a howling mob. The local paper described with some relish how stones, filth and rotten eggs were thrown, and one of the new members was assaulted. Then Harry, leaning on the arm of his ADC Holdich, emerged from the building, and the crowd fell silent. He said, ‘Gentlemen, I am glad to be amongst you. Believe me, my heart is with you.’ This olive branch did not quell the disturbances, and under threats of further violence the three members resigned.
As the weeks passed, Harry attempted to bring home to Grey the gravity of the situation in both private letters and official dispatches. He wrote: ‘The violence of the colonists upon the subject is inconceivable and it is widely felt that the Colony is on the brink of insurrection.’ At the same time, the whereabouts of the Neptune, which had left Bermuda four months earlier, remained a mystery. Harry even wondered hopefully if Grey had diverted it elsewhere. One rumour suggested, even more hopefully, that it had sunk with all hands. Neither of these were true and on 19 September, the Neptune, which had been delayed in Brazil by sickness, arrived off Cape Town. Harry immediately ordered that it should anchor in Simon’s Bay and should not communicate in any way with the shore. The actual arrival of the Neptune prompted immediate demands that it should be ordered to leave. The Anti-Convict Association made further impossible demands, but Harry made it clear that the Neptune would remain at anchor until further orders were received from London.
This decision bought some time, but it started another period of intense bitterness and violence. The Association demanded a complete boycott of the ship and of the government agencies supporting it. (The term �
��boycott’ was not actually coined until thirty years later, in similar circumstances in County Kerry, during the Irish Land Wars.) The boycott caused extensive disruption to trade and many businesses failed, while the army had to be used to provide bread, meat and milk for the ship, and to protect supplies brought from outside. Units were abused and attacked so that Harry had to exhort his troops to show forbearance and moderation, in spite of provocation. Farmers who brought in supplies were also attacked and their wagons overturned. The extremists even spread the rumour that there were many homosexuals among the convicts and if they were allowed in it would undermine the moral standards of the Colony. During October 1849, the extreme stance of the Association, which even punished children, gradually alienated the public, and supplying the Neptune became slightly easier. When Grey sent a dispatch announcing that he had abandoned the idea of establishing a permanent penal settlement, this reduced the tension, but it did not solve the problem of the Neptune and its unfortunate convicts anchored offshore for weeks.
While the situation in Cape Town slowly improved, the pressure on Harry continued because the colonists remained adamant that the convicts on the Neptune should not be landed, and Grey, despite all Harry’s letters and dispatches, seemed not to accept the true position. The problems seemed endless for Harry and Juana while the fate of the convicts was unresolved. Grey continued to expect Harry to override the colonists and get the convicts ashore, and so in December 1849, Harry, in a moving and heart-rending message to Grey, wrote: ‘God alone knows the devotion of my heart and soul to the Queen, Her Majesty’s Government, and more especially to you, my Lord, under whom I accepted an Office tendered, but a point of honour cannot be conceded.’