'What does she say?' roared the Landdrost, who for some reason was in a furious temper. He turned to a Boer in the room. 'Tell her she may whine as much as she pleases, she can't see her husband on Sat.u.r.day.

_n.o.body_ can go in the prison on Sat.u.r.day. If she wants to see her husband she must wait until next Monday!' The man turned fiercely towards me, but seeing my patient face, or perhaps for the sake of some Boer woman on a distant farm, his voice broke, and became quite gentle as he delivered the message.

With one exception this was the only time I ever received harsh treatment from a Boer official. Of course I sometimes met with a _strictness of manner_ which was to be expected, and which I was quite prepared to submit to. Brutal unkindness I never experienced but twice.

Reaching the jail, whither I had directed the cabman to drive me, I found Advocate Sauer and Mr. Du Plessis standing at the gate. They almost dropped at sight of my face. Dignity had deserted me. I was actually howling in my distress,

'Please, _please_ let me in to my husband!'

Du Plessis, rough and violent as he was to most people, was always kind to me. He opened the wicket and pushed me gently through. That was his answer. My sudden entrance, a ball of a woman with the tears dripping down on to her breast, surprised the warders. They regarded me with stricken faces. One at last rallied. With his eyes still fastened upon me, he called,

'Mister H-a-m-mond, Mister H-a-m-mond, your missis is here!' and my husband came rapidly across the yard.

I went home to my bed. Dr. Murray came in charge.

'Poor little woman! There is nothing to prescribe but oblivion in a case like this.' He ordered narcotics. Two weeks later I was told that I had been dangerously ill. In that darkened room I had suspected my jeopardy. Surely there is a special place in heaven for mothers who die unwillingly.

From distant parts of the world kind letters came to me--and from Johannesburg messages, sweet, with full-hearted sympathy--many of these from people whom I had never seen, nor ever shall in this life.

I found friends in the days of my trouble, as precious as rare jewels, whom I shall wear on my heart until it stops its beating.

The Government most generously allowed my husband to come to my bedside. He was accompanied by the chief jailer, Du Plessis. He wore some violets in his b.u.t.tonhole, I remember, which the jailer's child had given him. Mr. Du Plessis asked to see me. He had news to tell me which would cheer me up, he said. Brought to my bedside, all he could say, and he said it over and over again in his embarra.s.sment, was:

'Don't be unhappy; your husband won't be many years in prison.'

This did not bring the cheer intended. Playing the part of guest was irksome to Du Plessis. He went home to Pretoria the second day--leaving Mr. Hammond, who was not on parole, or even under bail, entirely free. No point in my husband's career has ever given me so entire a sense of gratification as the confidence in his honour thus manifested by the Boer Government. In my convalescence he returned to Pretoria and gave himself up at the prison.

'You might have waited another day,' said the warder in charge; 'we don't need you yet.'

XIV

One day the 'Star' (in a third edition) announced the great decision was at last concluded. The sixty-three Reformers were to be divided into four groups and sentenced in lots. Ten were to be liberated because of ill-health. Some were to be imprisoned twelve months, others five, and still others three months. The four leaders were sentenced to fifteen years' imprisonment, which, if carried out, was equivalent to death. However, this sentence was provisional, and it was understood pet.i.tions would be entertained.

This news was first taken into the jail by two wives who had outrun the messenger. My husband says that when he saw Mrs. X. throw herself weeping and speechless into her husband's arms, he thought 'it was all up with him.'

X. wasn't half the offender he was, and the sentence was evidently something too dreadful to tell. Mr. X. was one of the three months'

men, I believe.

These sentences, although unpopular, relieved to a certain extent the awful strain. But what was Johannesburg's wrath to hear two days later that the sentences were not for the periods mentioned, _but that at the expiration of these periods the prisoners could make fresh applications to be again considered!_ This was juggling with human souls! Everybody believed it to be the work of Dr. Leyds. A man more execrated than Dr. Leyds, I believe, does not live!

Three more weeks of cruel suspense followed.

Mr. Chamberlain continued to tumble down the Boer back stairs head over heels, yelling out excuses as he descended. He publicly denied on the 29th that Great Britain had promised to protect the Reformers, and added that they were not being unfairly treated. I will never make statesmen of my sons. I'd rather set them to ploughing.

Mark Twain came to the Rand. He visited the men at Pretoria. My husband did the honours of the prison, and introduced him to the Reformers. He talked a long while to them, sitting on a dry goods box.

Expressed his satisfaction at finding only one journalist in the crowd, and no surprise that the lawyers were largely represented. He a.s.sured them that they were to be congratulated and envied, although they did not know it. There was no place one was so safe from interruption as in a jail. He recalled to their minds Cervantes and Columbus--it was an honour to share captivity with such men as these.

They have sent another member of the Executive away to the baths, and later his absence will be given as an excuse for delay.

MAY 30.--All the Reformers with the exception of Davies and Sampson, and the four leaders, are released after paying ten thousand dollars each, and giving their oath to abstain in future from discussing or partic.i.p.ating in Transvaal politics.

JUNE.--Meetings are called by the labourers on the Rand. They send a monster pet.i.tion to Pretoria. The miners and mechanics also send a pet.i.tion. The famous Innes pet.i.tion is being circulated all over South Africa, and the mayors of all the large towns are preparing to go in a body to Pretoria to present their pet.i.tions for the release of the leaders. The President promises and postpones from day to day. The retention of the leaders is acknowledged to be only a question of the amount of fine.

An influential deputation from the Cape Town branch of the Africander Bond wait upon President Kruger, and a pet.i.tion signed by sixty members of the Cape Parliament is read to him. Another deputation comes from the Chamber of Commerce. The Mayor of Durban forwards through the Colonial Secretary a pet.i.tion bearing 1,250 names, and the Kimberley branch of the Bond send a pet.i.tion. Nothing comes of it all.

The President appoints the 7th to be a day of humiliation and prayer, and Dr. Leyds doubles his bodyguard.

JUNE 10.--The whole of South Africa is appealing to President Kruger to let the leaders free. The entire white population--two millions of people--give voice to this desire and hope of United South Africa. One hundred and fifty mayors, representing 200 towns and many of the rural districts, are in Pretoria waiting for audience with the Executive Council.

This evening, Thursday, June 11, the leaders were given their liberty after paying each a fine of 125,000 dollars, and taking an oath to abstain from taking part in the politics of the Transvaal. Colonel Rhodes refused, being an English officer, to take the oath, and was banished, not to appear again in the Transvaal, under pain of death.

The Executive then politely announced its decision to receive the Mayoral delegates on _Sat.u.r.day morning_ next. Perhaps the Mayors were not mad! Some of these men had trekked for days in ox-wagons before reaching the railroad to take train for Pretoria. A large banquet was given in their honour. They insisted upon the liberated leaders being invited as guests--but those criminals, leaders, and instigators did not attend, deeming it injudicious under the circ.u.mstances.

My husband flew to me, who am still kept indoors. He came with a light in his face I had not seen for months. 'We are free!'

JUNE 12.--This is a gala day in Johannesburg. Everybody is joyous--Kruger's name is cheered everywhere. Several thousand people were at the station to receive the leaders. Messrs. Phillips and Farrar were the only two left of the four to step off the train. They were caught up shoulder-high and carried by the crowd. Cheers rent the air. The horses were unyoked from their victoria, and willing hands grasped the shafts; and like returning conquerors, instead of criminals, these instigators were dragged triumphantly down the heart of the town followed by a vociferous mult.i.tude.

As the invited guests of Cape Colony we travelled on a special train to Cape Town--by 'we,' I mean a dozen or two Reformers with their families. The heartfelt ringing cheers as we pulled out of the station I can never forget. The cheers again at Bloemfontein and the strangers who came forward to shake hands and congratulate have enriched my life. One man at a way station in the Free State rode up shouting:

'Where is the American, John Hays Hammond?' My husband came forward.

'Mr. Hammond, I have come miles from an ostrich farm to shake hands with you. You are a white man, and Americans are proud of you!'

The Mayor of Cape Town received us, and dear friends were there to tell us with br.i.m.m.i.n.g eyes of their joy in our release.

XV

Those good people who have followed me thus far will see that a woman's part in a revolution is a very poor part to play. There is little hazard and no glory in it.

The day we made Southampton, as we stood, a number of Reformers and Reformers' wives, on the 'Norham's' deck, one of the gentlemen who had come to welcome us asked:

'Mrs. Hammond, what did _you_ do in the revolution?'

'She helped us bear our trouble,' said Lionel Phillips, and his words were sweet praise to my ears.

A few weeks later, in my lovely English home, a third son was born to us. There was something very appropriate in this child of war-times being first consigned to the professional arms of a Miss Gunn.

'He is perfect,' were his father's first words to me as he leaned over the new-born infant, and every mother will know all that meant to me.