by Frank Harris
Have you ever heard that, Mr. Rhodes?"
The bomb had exploded, the tension in the room was extraordinary: members craned forward and held their breath so as not to miss a word.
Rhodes hesitated, and then:
"I don't think I could have heard. I couldn't be sure. No," he added, "all I understood was that he would go to Johannesburg if required by the people of Johannesburg."
Again Sir William Harcourt insisted.
"Was there such a proposal? I ask because this is very important."
Mr. Rhodes turned and replied sulkily, fighting desperately for time. "I don't see the importance of it."
Sir William Harcourt, though interrupted by Mr. Pope, one of the opposing counsel, persisted quietly;
"I am putting a most important question. Was it ever discussed between you and Dr. Jameson whether or not he should go direct to Pretoria and attack President Krueger's Government, instead of going to Johannesburg?"
Mr. Rhodes fumbled: "I really couldn't answer that definitely; it might have been said." Then, catching at a straw, "Ask Dr. Jameson."
"You are an even more important person than Dr. Jameson. I really must ask you."
"I have given you my answer; I cannot remember; I don't see the importance of it."
Sir William Vernon Harcourt: "There is a very important difference between going to assist an insurrection in Johannesburg and going to make an attack direct upon the government of Pretoria."
Rhodes admitted the proposal may have been discussed, though he couldn't remember it.
Thus Sir William Harcourt by his questions had brought out the fact which, indeed, was contained in a telegram of Jameson, that the objective of the raid was not decided when the doctor started; that Jameson had it in mind not to go to Johannesburg at all, but to make a dash for Eirene, the place where the Boers stored their arms and ammunition about seven miles from Pretoria, and thus attack Krueger's government at the heart and directly.
Everyone expected Sir William Harcourt to pursue his interrogatory on the morrow, but he did not, and I was deeply disappointed. The commission broke off for the day and the point was never touched on again.
For the life of me, I couldn't fathom the situation or guess the secret. I found it out afterwards, however, from Dilke, the best informed Member of Parliament. He told me what I have already explained in Chapter XIV, that when the German Emperor congratulated Krueger on having defeated the raid, Queen Victoria reproved him sharply and declared that he seemed to be trying to make her government responsible for it, whereas none of her ministers knew anything about the raid. The German Emperor apologized humbly for his mistake.
"But when the South African Committee stirred the whole matter up again,"
Dilke said, "a Conservative statesman called upon Sir William Vernon Harcourt and told him about the Queen's letter to the German Emperor, and his reply; and when he had recited the facts, the Conservative went on to point out that if Sir William Vernon Harcourt pursued his questions and demonstrated the complicity of Chamberlain, or, indeed, rendered Chamberlain's complicity probable, he would be proving the Queen to have told what was not the truth to the German Emperor. He left it to Sir William Vernon Harcourt's sense of what was fit and becoming whether he would continue his interrogatory or not. Sir William Vernon Harcourt thereupon abandoned his plan, and gave up the victory he might have won over Chamberlain."
The committee condemned severely Sir Graham Bower, the Imperial Secretary, who had betrayed his superior, Sir Hercules Robinson, but Chamberlain gave him a governorship at once. Thus is traitorism rewarded in England.
Much the same thing happened with Robinson. He made two or three distinct charges against Chamberlain, and on my way home in April, '96, at Cape Town, he gave me chapter and verse for these accusations, but begged me not to say anything about them till he had returned to London and seen me, as he intended to make them in person against Chamberlain.
When he came back I wrote to him, saying that I was ready to see him at any time he might wish, and he replied that he would give me an immediate appointment. Then he wrote again, putting me off in a letter with a very changed tone; and when I pressed him, he wrote saying he was very ill, too ill to see any one, although he had seen the Colonial Office and Chamberlain in the meantime. Suddenly he was made Lord Rosmead and nothing more was heard of his accusation against Chamberlain. The English often close mouths with titles.
CHAPTER IV
African adventures and health
I must tell of some of my African adventures which took place shortly after I passed my fortieth birthday.
Africa-what gaudy memories the mere word calls to life: that first evening in the desert south of Biskra, with the grave Arabs sitting round, listening to the story-teller shaping the age-old tale to a new ending, acting the characters the while, mimicking villain and hero, slave and ruler, and with a magic of personality, making the drama live before our eyes.
Or that long ride up Table Mountain with Cecil Rhodes. I still see him standing-a greater Cortez-with his back to the Pacific, starting towards Cairo, six thousand miles away, dreaming of the immense central plateau, three times as large as the United States, as one empire.
That great central plateau where the air is light and dry, like champagne, and mere breathing's a joy; where the blessed sun reigns all through the long day, and the earth grows odorous under the hot embrace, and the sweat dries on the naked back in selvages of salt like the ripples on a sandy beach, while the night is cool and refreshing as the yellow moon comes up over the black forest and turns the camp into fairyland, while sweet airs breathe sleep on weary limbs.
And the freedom of it! Not the freedom of London: freedom to do as others do, dress as others dress, and speak as others speak, parroting phrases that were half lies when first coined, and smearing unctuous sentimentalities on dagger points; no, not that! Africa's freedom is of the wild and waste places of the earth, where one can be a man and can think his own thoughts and speak truth and live truth and stretch yokeless neck and free arms in God's sunlight.
Towards the end of February, 1896, I came to the conclusion that I understood South Africa, and as Rhodes was still absent in London, I determined to make my way up the country, at any rate as far as the Victoria Falls on the Zambesi, which I had always wanted to compare with Niagara. Accordingly, I organized an expedition and set off with one hundred and fifty carriers. I had as lieutenants two Boers, brothers, whom I had met in the Free State, and so long as they were with me, everything went fairly well. But their cruelty to the Negro carriers was almost diabolic, and one day, when the elder brother kicked a Negro and broke his leg and wanted to leave him to die in misery, I revolted. The end of it was that I paid them both for the entire trip and said "Goodbye" to them. We parted good friends, and the elder brother told me to keep my eyes skinned and see that the Negroes always boiled the drinking water or I'd get fever and come to grief. He turned out to be right. I thought kindness would be as efficacious as cruelty, but I was mistaken.
Still, I won through to the Zambesi, and one sunlit morning, for the first time, the great Victoria Falls that dwarf Niagara, burst on me, robed in rainbow mists, as if to hide the depths, while the great Zambesi stretched away to the right, a silver pathway to the far-off sea. The solitude, the scenery, the great river, and the falls, the wild animals of all sorts, and above all, the sense of living in the world as it was a hundred thousand years ago, made this experience the chief event in my life, separating the future from the past and giving me a new starting point.
I was two or three days exploring the falls from every point of view, and at night had divine rest in my tent. A day's journey away, fifteen miles or so north of the falls, and perhaps five hundred feet higher, I could still hear the roar and seemed to feel the earth quake.
This trek fagged us all out; the road was bad and the heat intolerable. The hundred and twenty or thirty Negro bearers I had with me put down their loads and threw themselv
es on the ground, careless of tsetse fly or mosquito, eager only to sleep and rest, even before eating. It was with difficulty that I got my personal servants to put up even my bell-tent. The big one they professed they could not find; three or four of the bearers, it appeared, had not yet come up. At last the tent was fixed and my mattress put down in it. My little table and stool were brought out and they gave me something to eat, fish and deer's meat, washed down with good whisky and water.
I had had the tent placed, as usual, fifty or sixty yards away from the camp of my carriers. The Negroes had not even cut thorn bushes as a Zareeba or fence to protect themselves. Sleep was the one thing we all wanted.
Though within the tropics, we were some thousands of feet above the sea level, so the air was quite cool at night, though the sun in the daytime was scorching. After my meal, I told the head man he could go and sleep. I went into my tent, put on pyjamas and lay down. The tent was small and the cool air so delicious that I left the flap open. In the evening air it waved a little, the elastic that held the square of it back being a little worn. Lying down on my mattress in front of the opening, I could see the great purple vault of sky, and on the right, the edge of the wood, perhaps a hundred yards away.
In a minute I was asleep, plunged into the dreamless slumber of absolute bodily exhaustion.
Suddenly I was annoyed by a noise. I was pulled out of my dreamless sleep by a repetition of it. Very cross, I tried to blink open my eyes. At first I could hardly see anything.
Again the flip! What was the noise?
At the camp everything was in deepest peace and silence. The mosquito netting was all around my head and my hands were gloved. I could hear the insects humming.
Again the flip! At length I was wide awake, more than awake.
The flap of the tent had closed and then opened again. And again the sound.
The flap of the tent, three-quarters closed for a moment, was then pulled back by the elastic. I could have reached it by stretching out my hand, but I was now too full of anxious curiosity.
What could it be that made the flap of the tent go back and forth so regularly?
Suddenly my curiosity was steeped in fear. I did not know why. Instead of getting up and stepping out to see what caused the flap to act so strangely, I put my head to the ground and peered underneath the tent.
Gradually my eyes became accustomed to the dark and I soon could see outlines a bit more clearly.
There was something there against the sky, and as I looked along it I saw a tail with a tuft on the end of it.
What could it be?
All of a sudden the flap of the tent was driven to again and then pulled back by the elastic. I peered more closely at the object, made out the outline, and realized the whole affair.
It was a full grown lion, lying on the ground playing with the flap of my tent, like a big cat. He had evidently crept up to the tent, probably attracted by my odor, seen the flap moving a little in the wind, and struck it with his paw.
It went and came back again, and after a moment or two he had struck it once more.
A lion playing with the flap of my tent, two feet from me!
Quickly I drew up my Westley Richards rule that was always loaded at my side, and lay down to try to get an exact line on his head and ear.
Then I thought: Why should I kill him? The big cat was really doing no harm.
The something cat-like, childish, in his play made me smile. This feeling of pity and friendliness probably saved my life, for just as I was hesitating-Gr- r-r-m-I heard a long, rumbling sort of moan to the left, and as I looked out through the tent, I saw distinctly the outline against the sky, perhaps four yards away, of another lion, or rather a lioness, as she had no mane.
How many were there?
I had seen a dozen together before then. They might be all around my little tent, for all I knew. One blow of one of their paws would carry the tent away and leave me exposed in the center.
It was perhaps wiser to keep quiet and await developments. The lioness moved a few feet forward and then stretched herself, yawning. I could see her as distinctly as possible, not ten feet away now.
Suddenly my lion at the flap joined her, stood opposite her for a moment, then turned his head slowly towards the flap and my humble person.
Again the rifle went to my shoulder, and I wondered, looking straight at the lion, whether he saw me as plainly as I saw him. Then I reflected that against the black of the tent he could not see me at all. That was my solitary advantage over him. Both beasts were uneasy, curiously watchful, especially the lioness.
Suddenly a sound came from the camp, and her head went round at once, turned towards the sound. The next moment she crouched down close to the ground and moved stealthily out of my limited field of vision.
The sound was repeated. Probably a Negro had got up for something in the camp, for at the second sound the lion turned, and walked slowly out of my vision after his mate.
I found it quite impossible to sleep. I tried to, but the proximity of the big beasts was too disquieting. I found myself listening, on the thin edge of expectancy, with nerves stretched for every sound.
I grew more and more wakeful. Again and again I peered along the ground, but could see nothing.
The lions had either gone to the woods or to the camp. I could not tell which.
No sign of them.
Suddenly, I began to see the trees on the right more distinctly. The night was over. Two minutes afterwards long arrows of light: it was day.
I went outside and clapped my hands. A couple of headmen came to me and I pointed to the ground by the flap. They read the signs quite plainly- "big lion"; and when I pointed a few feet away, they found the spoor of the lioness and followed it down to where the pair had gone into the wood.
The marks of a half-grown cub were with the lioness.
I told them what had happened, that the lion had been playing with the flap, and I still hear their "Woo-oof" of wonderment.
The second day of our trek I fell ill with malaria, which soon developed into blackwater fever. I treated myself with big doses of quinine and arsenic and went on, but the third day I must have been given another drink of ordinary unboiled river water.
I found it almost impossible to get the Negroes to boil the water: they told me lie after lie. That evening my temperature was over 105°. I had learned, with Bilroth in Vienna, that at 105° the fever begins to feed on the heart itself, and one must at all costs diminish the fever, even with icepacks. But I had no ice, and that day and the next, in spite of large doses of quinine and arsenic, my temperature continued very high. For two or three days I was out of my mind and raved in delirium. My head man, a big Negro, told me with tears that the men said the spirits who spoke through me were determined to take me; and one morning I found that no one answered my call. Fortunately, the evening before I wanted some tins of soup, and my Negro kept bringing me tins of sardines, which I tossed in the corner of the tent; in the morning, when I awoke and rang my bell, no one answered; and when I crawled on hands and knees outside the tent, I found the camp deserted and my medicine chest broken in pieces and strewn all over the ground. I was deserted by the carriers who had smashed up my medicine chest before going, believing that all my power was to be found in the medicines.
There was further evidence that kindness was not understood by the ordinary Negro. I had made it a rule from the beginning to keep my tent fifty yards from their encampment, and I soon found it necessary to make a further order: that they should go about their private business one hundred yards from the ordinary encampment; now, when they thought I was about to die and they were resolved to steal all my belongings and bolt, they had been dirty first all over the place as a sign of contempt, I suppose.
At any rate, here I was in the wilderness with nothing but my rifle and revolver and a knife and perhaps twenty cartridges in the belt around my waist, and nothing to eat, and so weak that I couldn't stand. I said to myself at once: "This
is the end; the sooner I put a bullet through my head the better. No use writing anything; it would never be seen. If any white people come to the place and find my dead body, my rifle will tell them the tale. Had I anything to say of any value to anybody?" I decided that I had not. I took up the rifle to end it all, when suddenly my eye caught sight of the five or six tins of sardines which I had tossed the night before into the corner of the tent.
Six boxes of sardines and one of soup meant life for a good while, and after all I was quite close to the Zambesi, to the river that ran to the sea and to civilization, say, six hundred miles away. If I had been well, twenty miles a day would have gotten me to the sea in a month, but even ill, surely I might do it in two months! I tied my most necessary things into a bundle, took several boxes of matches and a little tin kettle, strapped the whole on my back, and two mornings after I came again to the Zambesi. I determined to
stick to the river and look for a canoe: some dug-out or canoe might be abandoned and I might have the luck to find it.
Next morning I began to make my way to the sea: at first the fever was very high, but I kept on taking daily doses of quinine and nightly doses of arsenic.
But alas! I had only the one package, picked from the box which had been by my bedside: I had to be content with small doses.
Perhaps the hard exercise or the starvation did me good: in two or three days I reckoned I had made about fifteen miles down the river, and I was certainly stronger, so I took my first meal of three sardines. All the afternoon I was ill, and the next day could scarcely crawl. Wherever I saw the semblance of a path through the reeds to the river I looked out for a canoe, but for many days I saw nothing, except some hippos in the river and deer in the distance. The less I ate, however, the less fever I had. But the weakness persisted, my legs seemed to have no bones in them, and half an hour's walk tired me out. What I suffered, I can never tell. I couldn't have made much more than sixty or seventy miles in the month; and it was a month before I found a canoe, three days after I had wolfed my last sardine.
