Mr. Kruger's Last Swearing-in Day.

New Zealand Illustrated Magazine, 1 December 1900, Page 182

Mr. Kruger's Last Swearing-in Day.

By J. Freeman Lloyd

/"VVERT seventh year a new President f/T* had to be elected for the Transvaal V^ Republic, but the old one could be re-elected. And in this way had Mr. Paul Kruger been chosen three times as chief of the Constitution. As can be easily imagined, " Swearing In Day," as it was called, was looked forward to with considerable interest, and was given over to great rejoicing. Of course there was only one in the running, and although the late General Joubert and Mr. Schalk Burger contested the seat in the year '98, there was no real fight, for those who would stand or fall by Oom Paul, went solidly for him, while, on the other hand, the Progressive vote was split. Mr. Kruger therefore sailed in an easy winner, and great were the entertainments.

To describe Pretoria on such a day won Id fill half a volume, for no expense was spared, everything being decorated, while magnificent arches spanned the principal streets. From all prominences and spires floated the flag of the Transvaal. He would indeed be a man of bad taste to display the Union Jack, for on such an occasion the stolid, solemn gathering of Boers would look upon it as an insult, and the Braves of Krugersdorp, a very rowdy lot of young burghers of quarrelsome and fighting type, would be likely to create a scene which no one wanted.

Early on that day crowds poured into the town, and soon the streets were filled with the Johannesburg contingent. Volunteers, mounted and on foot, came from all parts, while the State Artillery turned out in their best bib and tucker, a well set-up body of men, on good horses, gaily comparisoned in trappings and, plumes. There was a jangle of scabbards, and orders not to be understood

by the average Uitlander, who had to pay the piper, or at least more than his share, for all that was going on. Pretoria, generally half asleep, was now very wide awake, for sightseers thronged the place.

The guard at the Presidency was doubled, and great and cordial were the congratulations received by President Kruger. There was an incessaut pilgrimage before and after tho official procession, and the poor old gentleman's hand must have been shaken enough on that eventful day. Hat in hand, fathers presented sons and daughters, for it is fair to say the President of the Traansvaal knew individually all his older subjects. Had not they or their ancestors trekked and fought side by side with him in the old days of the great pilgrimage, when the colony and the hated rule of England had been left behind, forgotten and disposed of for ever, or at least so they hoped and thought ? But the rude ideas of these pioneering nomads were but as a ripple before an advancing tide— the great wave of British enterprise, with its broad views of achievement.

It is said that only coffee is drank at the Presidency. On Swearing In Day, so far as was observed, the aroma of the roasted berry was unknown on the stoep, and also in the premises in Church Street. There were other stimulants galore, and the man, who obtained the order for German beer, need not have worked for another year. The hospitality at the Presidency that day was great; indeed, Pretoria was generally enftte, and spectators witnessed for the last time the town at play over a sort of coronation event.

There was the glitter of State and the

simplicity of pastoral admiration. Over the way from Mr. Kruger's house, and nestled round the Dopper Church, were the white tents of the faithful who had trekked in their bullock waggons, perhaps a couple of hundred miles, to be present at Pretoria, to pay their respects to Uncle Paul, the wisest of men, the chosen of the Almighty and themselves. The massive bullocks, hundreds of them, grazed on the commonage, attended by natives, who kept them apart, while notwithstanding the presence of the pick of the standing regulars and volunteers of the State, that procession was headed by two or three hundred Rusteuburg burghers, as ill-kempt a lot of men as one could readily imagine — tall, thin, haggard, strangers alike to the customs of ablution and the attentions of the hairdresser.

Whether it was the wish, desire, or command of the about -to- be - resworn President that this contingent of his supporters should head the calvacade in the time of triumph, did not transpire, but this position they certainly took up, and the leader carrying the flag of the He public, attached to the end of a long wagon bamboo whip-stick, was indeed a sight not *o be forgotten. The inevitable pipes were evidently in full working order, the bandoliers did not contain blank cartridges, and carrying their rifles in the right hand, grasped firmly over the breech, the Boers were ready, aye, ready for anything. And after the burghers came men in uniform, and then the famous coach with its four horses, silver eagles, green and gold liveried coachman, silk stockened footmen. Inside comfortable and quite at home, surrounded by delicate pale blue upholstered silk, reclined the redoubtable personage — the man whohas been most written about, caricatured, and noticed of modern times.

ceremony over at the Government Buildings, Paul of the Boers ascended the great platform formed on the roof of the central and chief portico, besashed, and wearing the Order of his high position. He was attended by his aide-de-camp^ Mr. Erasmus, who, attired in dress clothes and

white gloves, shaded his master from the rays of the sun by the aid of a great white umbrella. The rough guttural voice of President Kruger reached every corner of that large square, his harangue of patriotism, love of his burghers, and thankfulness to God, being every few moments punctuated with the spontaneous v hoor hoors " of the very large number of armed men, disciplined and undisciplined, who took up thoir positions, making a great show, and keeping the crowds back at the same time. The Diplomatic Corps was in attendance, the brilliancy and gorgeousness of the uniform of the Portuguese representatives being particularly noticeable as compared with the quieter habiliments of Her Majesty's agent, Mr. Cony n ham Greene.

The hotels aud restaurants must havo done well on that day, for every burgher from far and near, who took part in the programme, was given an order on the place of resort, and it is fair to say that it was the first time many of them had seen such a thing as a well-laid table, the finest of linen, and the glass and silver of a first-class inn. The new dining saloon of the Transvaal Hotel was crowded with children of the veldt, not entirely acquainted with the attributes of civilization,, and who still believed in the doctrine that fingers wore made before forks. But the sight tljat attracted their attention more than anything else, was the presence of an old Dutch lady wearing the quaint head-dress of her couutry, the gold forehead plate and spiral ornaments which had probably been handed down as a heirloom from mother to daughter for

several generations

The Dutchmen of the North Transvaal had heard of these customs of their forefathers, and many, doubtless, had been the stories told of the admonitions of the mother to her child when the destination of that sacred bequest was made known. Hot aired, hard-drinking Pretoria, then, must have been a wonderful place for sightseers, and the presence of that old Hollander lady with her wonderful headgear, may be the subject of talk and discussion for years to

come; and the superstitious will perhaps put her visit down to some uncanny business, the decay of the power of the Boers and the oligarchy of Mr. Kruger and the Executive. This rather minute description of Pretoria an a Swearing In Day is given, because it was an event that men will never see again, and it behoves one to give all the particulars of a custom that must now sink into oblivion. The afternoon was gayer than ever, and the Presidency was thronged with burghers, who, even in their most thirsty humour, failed to exhaust the stock that had been laid in for their consumption.

But there was a "straiige" mistake, or rather oversight, on the part of those responsible for the decorations. The grand arch that was built from the Post Office corner to the opposite side of Church Street, had on the side which would first be seen by

the President on his way to take the oath i " God Save Our Great Statesman." This was, of course, in low Dutch, or taal, and for the word "great" the word "grooten" was used. Like everywhere else when festivities are the order, important things are left for the last moments, and that very morning the Transvaal arms were put up over the centre arch, and flags set round the emblem. One of these covered the "g" in " grooteu," and the six other letters remained withanasty and unfortuuate meaning that most people will realize. For a week it was never noticed by the officials, but snapshotists and professional photographers soon discovered the hideous device, the last that was to greet a President of the Transvaal. "God Save Our Rotten Statesman." was indeed a writing on the wall.