by David Rooney
Once again, slow communications made matters worse, and only in February 1850 was it learnt that Grey had finally given in and agreed that the convicts would go to Tasmania. It took even longer for him to write to Harry and apologize for taking a critical and unhelpful attitude during the crisis. He finally confirmed the Whitehall view that Harry had been correct in not admitting the convicts and hoped that their friendship had not been impaired. When Grey’s decision became known in Cape Town there was widespread rejoicing and celebrations. In order to hasten its departure, supplies to revictual the Neptune were eagerly provided. Because the convicts had suffered such hardship while lying off Cape Town, they were offered a pardon when they reached Tasmania. Many of them rose to high office both in Australia and in America, including Sir Charles Duffy, who became Prime Minister of Victoria. The convict crisis finally passed, but it took a very heavy toll on Harry’s health, and he never fully regained his old purposeful vigour. At the same time the bitter divisions among the people of the colony were never entirely healed.
Chapter 9
Anticlimax
February 1850 to April 1852
While the convict crisis continued, it appeared that Harry’s previous exertions had succeeded and the frontier was peaceful. In view of this, in 1850, in order to accede to Grey’s demand for economy, Harry sent a battalion of the Rifles back to England. This left less than 2,000 troops to control the whole frontier and half of these were scattered about in different garrisons. The apparent peace masked some serious unrest. Several areas had suffered from plagues of locusts, and a severe drought had caused widespread suffering and loss of crops and cattle. Some chiefs were restless and resented Harry’s high-handed attitude and his humiliation of Macomo. They realized that the Rifles had been sent home and they reckoned that the aggressive settler opposition to Harry over the convict issue had undermined his position. He was reassured when a number of chiefs offered to support him against the troublesome Gaikas, but once again he seriously overestimated his influence with the chiefs as he had done with the Boers. Much of the simmering resentment was brought to a head by a young religious fanatic, Mlanjeni, who claimed that his ancestors had told him to drive out the British. He also claimed that his potions could turn British bullets to water.
Harry, far from well and showing the heavy physical and psychological toll which the convict crisis had cost him, ignored Juana’s desperate pleas and set off for the frontier, believing that he alone could quickly solve the problems. He sailed to Port Elizabeth, hurried on and reached Fort Cox just before Christmas 1850 (see map). The Gaikas, including Macomo and Sandile, were now seriously aroused and were no longer overawed by Harry’s threats. On Christmas Eve, when he heard of a gathering of warriors under Sandile, he sent a force of 600 men to deal with it. With little time for a reconnaissance, they had to advance through a narrow gorge beside a river. Sandile’s men, showing admirable discipline, allowed them to move deep into the gorge and then attacked on three sides. The force managed to fight its way out, but at a cost of thirty lives. As the depleted force returned to Fort Cox, they passed the bodies of another detachment which had been massacred, the bodies left naked and grossly mutilated. At the same time, three of the military villages, which normally had good relations with the local tribes, were attacked, overwhelmed and most of the people murdered. Harry heard this news while he was beleaguered in Fort Cox and surrounded by thousands of Gaikas. To make matters worse, all the Kaffir police deserted and joined the rebels. Such was the power of the assembled warriors surrounding Fort Cox that two attempts by Colonel Somerset to raise the siege had been beaten off.
After the failure of the second attempt, Harry’s position was extremely dangerous and precarious. What a prize his capture would be for Macomo and the Gaika chiefs! Already renowned for his epic rides, he now undertook the most dangerous of all. He selected 200 men of the Cape Mounted Rifles (CMR), disguised himself as one of them, complete with uniform, then, in the middle of the posse, broke through the besiegers and rode frantically for King William’s Town 20 miles away. The group had to fight several fierce skirmishes on the way, but they won through without serious loss. Harry was clearly rattled by the whole experience at Fort Cox. In a mood of furious anger, he demanded that the settlers ‘rise up and destroy the barbarous savages’, and drive out the Gaikas forever.
This emotional outburst was to cost Harry dear. When the words that he had spoken in fury after the crisis in Fort Cox reached Cape Town, most sections of opinion were horrified. Worse, they were reported to Whitehall, and Grey sent a severe rebuke, pointing out in a condescending and supercilious way that Harry’s responsibility was not to exterminate but to civilize these fierce barbarians. Fortunately for Harry, the Duke of Wellington, who was to support him once again and not for the last time, had been involved with Grey in discussions about troop reinforcements and had proposed the immediate dispatch of the Highland Light Infantry to help solve the security problems on the frontier. Meanwhile Harry was fully stretched, organizing the defence of a string of forts from Fort Cox down to the coast at East London against a widespread uprising. New difficulties quickly arose. The Hottentots, who had previously supported him, now rose in revolt under leaders, some of whom had been trained in the CMR, and were more dangerous foes. Harry, severely rattled and with his former confidence now undermined, felt that his tough approach had failed, so he treated the Hottentot rebels leniently, which enraged the frontier Boers. He also held a parade of those left in the CMR, flanked by two British units, told the Regiment that they were disgraced and made them lay down their arms. He allowed white members to keep their weapons, thus adding to the division between black and white, which was already at a dangerous level. All these difficulties were now compounded by the refusal of both Boer and British settlers to volunteer for security operations because in such a volatile situation they would not leave their homes and families unprotected. Feelings of insecurity grew daily, and hundreds of settlers flocked for safety into Port Elizabeth and Grahamstown.
Contemporary accounts paint a vivid picture of a deeply divided, bitter and apprehensive society. Somerset, one of the field commanders, had been promoted through the ‘system’, although Harry suspected he was incompetent – others described him as totally useless and altogether corrupt. Different groups came to Harry with ideas for their own protection, but, apart from swearing colourful oaths, he could do little to help them until reinforcements arrived. The grave situation on the frontier caused officials back in Cape Town to recruit many undesirables, who accepted the bounty of £25 but who proved troublesome, insubordinate and useless as soldiers. In his acute dilemma, Harry even thought of appealing to the Zulus, who might have welcomed the chance to strike at their traditional enemies, the Hottentots, but Shepstone (later Sir Theo Shepstone), a widely respected figure in Natal, managed to dissuade him from such a disastrous course. In spite of all the difficulties, by the end of March 1851, over 8,000 troops of varying quality had assembled on the frontier. With the settlers expecting Harry to mete out dire punishment to the rebels, here again the loss of his previous confidence became apparent. Initially, he sent out fairly strong patrols, but there were few good leaders and little was achieved. He was not well served by his subordinates. Somerset again proved his incompetence and Mackinnon was nicknamed ‘Regulate the Pace’ by the soldiers for his timidity.
Although Harry was still far from fit, it seems that the challenge, danger and excitement of his situation did restore his vigour and energy. A young officer noted his active and commanding presence. It therefore fell to Harry, now over sixty years old, to lead the assembled forces: some 2,000 infantry, mostly regular units bolstered by some recently enlisted riff-raff, some 9-pounders and a scratch group of mounted men. They faced formidable opposition. The Gaikas had learnt much, and from their strongholds in the hills to the east and north of Fort Cox they conducted an effective type of guerrilla war, led by the able and embittered Macomo. Faced by these problems,
Harry complained that he was not receiving the support from the Boer farmers that he had done in 1835. Towards the end of March 1851, a fairly large group of Gaika warriors was located in the hills to the east of Fort Cox. Harry, now in his element, sent forward fighting patrols, cut off the enemy’s retreat and inflicted a serious defeat. To teach them a salutary lesson he burnt down their villages. The Highlanders took the lead in attacking enemy units and effectively dispersed Macomo’s main force. Local papers, both on the frontier and in Cape Town praised Harry’s conduct of the operations. The Cape Town Mail reported: ‘All speak of the bravery and activity of His Excellency.’
Harry had been reinvigorated by the challenge of the frontier, but back in Cape Town Juana was still depressed by the abrupt change from warm affection to outright hostility shown to them during the convict crisis, and now again worried about her Enrique and the adverse reports from the frontier. News that filtered back often stressed the setbacks and failures, and the growing strength of the rebels. It was even discovered that some mail had been intercepted and taken to Uithaalder, the ex-CMR leader of the Hottentot rebels. Thereafter Harry and Juana corresponded in Spanish. Juana, of course, knew the frontier and with her experience of years of campaigning took an intense interest in every detail of the operations, occasionally even making suggestions about the campaign. She had been encouraged when the Highland Light Infantry arrived, but was infuriated by the demanding attitude of some of the officers’ wives. During May and June 1851, although substantial supplies and reinforcements arrived on the frontier, the military position hardly improved. Juana realized that Harry was doing his best to cover up bad news and consequently worried even more.
The lack of real success for the British units meant that some chiefs and some tribes were wavering in their loyalty. In view of this, at the end of June 1851, when the Highlanders had reached the frontier, Harry organized a strong four-pronged attack on Macomo’s base in the Amatola Hills. This led to some fierce clashes, the destruction of a number of kraals and the capture of hundreds of cattle, but it did not defeat Macomo, who withdrew with his forces into the hills, ready to fight another day. Harry had to admit, in a dispatch to Grey, that such successes did little to bring the war to an end. He had been encouraged by a personal letter from Wellington, supporting his policy, but he was aware of the increasing criticism in Parliament about the continuing and growing expense of the war, which the Opposition had predicted.
Just when slightly better news came from the Amatolas, Harry’s deputy, Major Warden, reported a dangerous development from further east. There were fresh defections among the Hottentots in the Cape Corps and in the Orange River Sovereignty, with many of the Boers there refusing to assist him against Moshesh, while their fellow-countrymen over the Vaal were prepared to back them in their hostility to the British Government. Warden was therefore ordered to act only on the defensive until troops could be sent to him.
Harry, writing at the time to his sister Alice, gave vent to his bitterness and illustrated the stress he was under. He spoke of the Hottentots upon whom he had lavished favours, but who were now rebelling, as ‘cruel, treacherous, ungrateful savages, ungrateful wretches’. He partly blamed the Hottentot uprising on the missionaries who ‘stirred them up’. In addition to these immediate problems, he had to suffer from ill-informed and malicious criticism in the House of Commons, ‘which was ludicrous’, and to which he could not respond. In another letter, one of Harry’s nephews who was with him, also described the Hottentot attacks on defenceless farmers. He stressed the need for two or three more regiments, ‘For without them, to end the war with his present force is impossible.’
While these troubles continued, two Commissioners, a Major Hogge and his assistant came out to the frontier. Ostensibly, they came to assess the seriousness of the unrest, but in fact had come in order to report directly to Grey, who had begun to have doubts about Harry’s role and his policy. The Commissioners focussed on whether, in view of the tribal unrest and the strong opposition of the Boers, the Orange River Sovereignty should be abandoned. When this was discussed, Harry assured Grey that the rebels would see it as a victory and it would be a signal for revolt across the whole territory. From this time onwards, the main issues were decided not on the ground on the frontier, but by pressures in Whitehall, in Parliament and in Cape Town. While problems mounted, the Commissioners interviewed Pretorius, still the leader of the Voortrekkers, and in the Sand River Convention of 1852 agreed to the independence of the Boer territory north of the Vaal River – the Transvaal. Harry felt his powers being whittled away, and became increasingly embittered by the mounting criticism from Cape Town, from London and by Grey’s growing disapproval. Grey, who never really understood the actual situation in the Cape, did at last realize that the war could not be won with the forces currently in the territory. He therefore ordered that two further regiments – the 12th Lancers and the 60th Rifles – were urgently dispatched.
An uneasy lull continued for several months, but was suddenly broken in September 1851, when Macomo, who had been building up supplies of weapons and ammunition in his strongholds in the Amatola Hills, launched attacks across the frontier area, destroying farms and taking away hundreds of cattle. Some more British reinforcements had arrived, including the 2nd of Foot (later the Queen’s Royal Regiment) and more Highlanders, but they were ill-prepared and ill-equipped for the new type of guerrilla warfare which was being waged against them. In early skirmishes the Highlanders had twenty casualties and the Queen’s nearly fifty. In the face of such serious reverses, the settlers, as well as the local papers on the frontier and in Cape Town, began to mount strong attacks on Harry. They blamed him for his utter conceit, for loss of military judgement and now for being despised by the Kaffirs. Some critics did make allowance for his age and for his recent illness, but few supported him.
Faced by growing and intractable problems, there is little doubt that, in order to impress Grey, Harry made many exaggerated claims about successes in the field. He still failed to realize that the two Commissioners, and particularly the senior one, Major Hogge, with their direct access to Grey, were seriously undermining his position. Their largely negative reports contrasted starkly with his claims of outstanding successes. Military failures continued through October and November, even though, with the arrival of the Suffolk Regiment from Mauritius and the 12th Lancers, Harry had over 6,000 troops under his command. In December 1851, despite concern about his health, he led a strong force over the Kei River, captured thousands of cattle and forced most of the chiefs to sue for peace. Here Harry’s judgement was once again called in question. Macomo, whose antagonism had stemmed from his humiliation by Harry, swore he would rather die than be humiliated again. Harry remained obdurate and was determined that some of the rebel leaders should be hanged. Tense negotiations failed and he came under increasing pressure from Grey, who had received alarming reports from Hogge about supplies of arms to the rebels. Grey, too, was under pressure from the Opposition in Parliament over the escalating cost of the war and his dispatches became increasingly petulant, because he no longer believed Harry’s claim of successes on the frontier.
The future of Harry and Juana was decided, not on the Kei River or in Fort Cox, but in a series of crisis meetings in London during December 1851. Grey had finally lost confidence in Harry and discussed the matter with Lord Russell, the Prime Minister. Their main problem was Wellington, who still supported Harry, and argued that the widespread war of colour was not Harry’s fault. Then in January 1852, having managed to convince Queen Victoria, Grey sent the dispatch which dismissed Harry:
We have been compelled to believe that, perhaps from the failure of your health, and your being no longer able to exercise as close a personal superintendence as formerly over the conduct of affairs, you have failed in giving either to your military operations or to your political measures bearing upon the war, that character of vigour and judgment which are necessary to inspire confidence in the inhab
itants and troops, and to command success.
It took weeks to arrive. Harry, still on the frontier in March 1852, was leading a spirited attack, accompanied by the usual bloodthirsty threats and oaths, when he received Grey’s dispatch of January, with its shattering news. His dismissal caused furious discussion at the highest level in London, where Wellington and many others considered that Harry had been treated shamefully. Early in February, Wellington spoke in the House of Lords, saying he approved of all Harry had done, concluding his speech with: ‘I have not observed any serious error in the conduct of the whole of these operations of my gallant friend Sir Harry Smith.’ In the House of Commons there was even fiercer criticism of Grey when the whole episode was called a dirty business and he was charged with blackening Harry’s character. Outside the House, critics reviled Grey for his arrogant insolence and a wave of sympathy supported Harry. He could not have known it at the time, but before he received his dismissal in the middle of March 1852, the crisis over the Cape had been a factor in bringing down Russell’s government on 27 February, and Grey himself had been dismissed.
At one stage it looked as if General Cathcart, who had been appointed to succeed Harry, would travel on the ship which brought Grey’s dispatch, but fortunately this was avoided. However, he did arrive soon afterwards, on 21 March, when Harry was still on the frontier, and Juana had the unenviable task of looking after him. He spent only a few days before setting off for the frontier and on 10 April he met Harry in King William’s Town, where the handover took place. For the remainder of their stay in the Cape, Harry and Juana suffered a prolonged emotional storm. After handing over to Cathcart, which he did with courtesy and dignity, Harry left for East London, escorted by the local chiefs and their warriors. At the port he was so overcome with emotion and was so unwell that he had to be helped aboard the unfortunately named ship, Styx.