TER IX

JAN CELLIERS, POET AND PATRIOT

That there is more than one man of the name of Jan Celliers in South
Africa I know, but there is only one Jan Celliers who can be honoured
by the title "Poet and Patriot," and that is the remarkable
personality of our friend in Pretoria, J.F.E. Celliers.

I have chosen him as the subject of this chapter, not so much because
of the important, I may almost say revolutionary part he has played in
the building up of South African literature since the war, as on
account of the unique patriotism displayed by him throughout the war
under circumstances of the severest test and trial.

How he, after active service in the field since the beginning of the
war, came to be locked up in Pretoria as an unseen prisoner of war, an
unwilling captive between the green walls of his suburban garden, when
the British took possession of the capital on that stupefying June
5th, 1900, we shall briefly relate in this chapter.

Mr. Celliers' experience was that of many good and faithful burghers.

The news of heavy Boer losses, the desperately forced march of the
British troops from Bloemfontein to Pretoria, the crushing blows in
quick succession, the departure of the Boer Administration from the
seat of government, the demoralisation of the scattered forces, and
the painful uncertainty of what the next step was to be--these things,
combined with the fact, in Mr. Celliers' case, of having no
riding-horse or bicycle on which to escape from the town, caused him
to be surprised by the wholly unexpected entry of the British forces
into the capital. Just a brief period of dazed inaction, a few hours
of stupefied uncertainty, and he found himself hopelessly cut off from
every chance of escape.

He planned escape from the beginning, for conscientious scruples
forbade his taking the oath of neutrality. Of the oath of allegiance
there was no question whatever.

There was nothing for it but to keep himself hidden until an
opportunity for escaping to his fellow-countrymen in the field
presented itself.

The first three weeks were spent in the garden, but it soon became
evident that listening ears and prying eyes were being paid to
discover his whereabouts, and closer confinement was found necessary.
Thereafter he sat between four walls, reading and writing during the
greater part of the day, keeping a watchful eye on the little front
gate through a narrow opening in the window-blind and disappearing,
thr