My diary continues through May:

FIRST WEEK. Petitions in favour of the Reformers are being signed all over the country. All feeling against the Reform Committee has veered round, and the strongest sympathy is now felt for them. Only the extreme of the Boer and Hollander factions chant the old story of their trying to subvert the Government conniving with Jameson, and then deserting him, &c., &c.

Landdrost Schutte and Captain Shields quarrel over who shall have charge of the jail. Apparently it is an appointment of honour, or large emolument.

Gregorowski is publicly hooted on his return to Bloemfontein. I hear that as soon as Gregorowski had pronounced the death sentence, Judge Morice dashed from the Court-room and ran hatless through the streets of Pretoria to withdraw Gregorowski’s name, which had been put up at the Club, at his request. This is a sample of the feeling among honourable men. Judge Morice is a Burgher and a prominent Judge of the Transvaal Court. The Jury of Burghers called for the final trial, which was never empanelled, were greatly surprised and affected by the fearful sentence some of them wept like children. And they were the first to draw up a petition for commutation.

Prisoners are still wearing their own clothes, although it is said that enough jumpers of prison sacking are waiting to breech the lot. They suffer severely from cold and dampness, the prison accommodations offering little or no protection from the weather. Many of them are ill. There is talk of separating the Reformers and sending them to jail in various districts Barberton, Rustenburg, and Lydenburg. This threat causes much apprehension, for their one solace is being together.

Rumour of English troops gathering on the Border.

President Kruger and the High Commissioner exchanging opinion over the uneasiness. Kruger calls out, ‘I see Bugaboos in your front yard,’ and Sir Hercules responds, ‘Oh no; that’s our tame cat.’

Petitions come in from the country districts of the Transvaal. From Durban and Pietermaritzburg, with over a thousand signatures, from Lorenco Marques, a second from Durban, and one from the Orange Free State, expressing sympathy and the hopes of President Steyn.

Natal sends a petition signed by 4,000 Burghers.

The sentences are commuted, but nobody knows to what.

General Joubert is sent off with a ten days’ leave of absence to take his annual bath.

Messrs. Rose Lines and Solomon visit the jail daily.

SECOND WEEK. In spite of hardships my dear husband’s health improves. He vows the death sentence has cured him. From day to day we are promised a final decision from the Executive, but matters are still drifting. Nothing will probably be done in this direction until General Joubert returns to Pretoria, as he is one of the members of the Executive Council. It is suggested to me by one of the Government circle that a visit from me to Mr. Kruger would be timely. All which I wished to say I would not be allowed to say, and just to pay an aimless visit seemed a foolish thing to do, and, being outspoken, I said so. A friend in whom I had implicit confidence advised me to go by all means. I was possibly being used as a political pivot. After some delay I did go, splattering through the mud in a wheezy old cab behind a splayfooted white horse driven by a hunchbacked negro boy. The interview lasted five minutes, and was perfectly meaningless. I suppose it was meant to be that. Ten fathoms down under many other things I could see that Kruger had strong heart qualities. Educated and morally matured, he would be one of those grand characters who make epochs in the world’s history. We shook hands at parting and went out of each other’s lives for ever.

Mr. G. told me, as he helped me into the cab at the door, that Mr. Kruger had received a cable from America in my husband’s behalf, signed by the Vice-President and a large number of the Senate and House of Representatives. This information opened my eyes. I now saw why a visit from me would be ‘timely.’

Within an hour news was cabled by some one to all parts of the civilised world that the wife of the American prisoner, John Hays Hammond, had received audience of the President of the Transvaal. ’The interview was of long duration. What transpired was of a private character, but it is believed to be very hopeful and satisfactory.’

THIRD WEEK. Delays, shiftings, postponements, delays with excuses, and delays without excuses. Each day strong petitions sent in to the Executive. A continual stream of disheartened wives and friends on their way to the Presidency, many going in the early dawn, as the President an early riser and of simple habit was known then to be easy of access. A pitiful picture lingers in my mind of a dozen Reformers’ wives in the deep golden yellow of an African sunrise sitting on the edge of the broad side-walk with their feet in the dust waiting for the President to return from burying a Landdrost’s wife. I cannot remember that Mr. Kruger made any specific promises. ’All shall come right,’ he said frequently. ’Wait; don’t hurry me. I must go slow, or my Burghers will get out of hand.’ We waited, and the men inside of the prison walls one after another sickened and lost heart.

On May 12, Dr. Messum sent the following report in to the Landdrost:

Dear Sir, I have, on the 29th and 30th April, written to the Inspector of Jails about the state of the jail. I do not know if I am to report to you or to the Inspector of Jails; in any case, I have the honour again to report that as yet no alteration has been made in the sheds in which the political prisoners are kept. I must repeat again that they are too small and unhealthy for the number of prisoners placed in them. I find now, on account of their immediate vicinity to the native section, that vermin is beginning to trouble the political prisoners. There are amongst the political prisoners very old and sickly men, whose lives, on account of the insufficient accommodation, are placed in danger. There is not yet any proper hospital room for the sick, who are thus obliged to remain amongst the others. I find that the accommodation is very insanitary and unhealthy.

About the prisoner F. Gray I wish to make special mention, because he is showing signs of developing melancholia (lunacy), caused by the uncertainty of the future and what he has gone through during the last few months.

I also fear that he later on will develop suicidal tendencies. I would recommend that his sentence should be taken into immediate consideration, and to discharge him at once from the jail.

I have the honour to be, etc.,
GORDON MESSUM, M.D.,
District Surgeon.

Unfortunately this report was not considered, and on the 16th day of May poor Gray, distraught by his sufferings, cut his throat.

Mr. Fred Gray was a man of high business standing. He was married, and the father of six children. His tragic death was a shock to every one. Johannesburg turned out in a body ten thousand strong to carry his remains to the burial-place. Inside the jail, his fellow prisoners had formed in procession and with uncovered heads followed the body as far as the prison gates, the limit of their freedom, not a man with dry eyes.

The first prisoner was liberated.

FOURTH WEEK. The decision still withheld. President Kruger excuses this by saying it is due to the fact that only half the captive Randites have signed the petition for commuting the banishment and imprisonment clauses to fines.

The suspense is heartbreaking, and night brings no forgetfulness. Those long voiceless nights of South Africa! Not a bird’s call, nor a chirp from the tiny creatures which hide in the grass. A white moon, a wide heaven filled with strange stars, and the tall moon-flowers at the gate lifting up their mute white trumpets to the night wind.

The little boy beside me rouses from his sleep to ask: ’Mother dear, why do you laugh and shake the bed so?’

Fearing an illness, I yearned for a last interview with my husband. It was a Saturday that I went to Pretoria, and although the prison was supposed to be closed on that day to visitors, I had several times gained admittance through the kindness of those in authority. I went to the Landdrost who had the dispensing of permits.

’Will you please make an exception in my favour and allow me to see my husband? I am ill, and must return to my home in Johannesburg at once.’

‘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 Saturday. Nobody can go in the prison on Saturday. 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 buttonhole, 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 embarrassment, 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.’