he had come to believe that the Darwinian theory of evolution was the most probable explanation of the world, that it is the law of some supreme being, rather than the result of blind forces. God, he thought, was obviously trying to produce a type of humanity the best fitted to bring peace, liberty, and justice into the world, and thus make, as Heine said, 'A Kingdom of God on this earth.' One race to him seemed to approach God's ideal type-his own, the Anglo-Saxon. He knew no language but English, and that only imperfectly, and so was easily convinced of the superiority of the Anglo-Saxon character. God's purpose, to him, was to make the Anglo-Saxon race predominant.
As an ideal, it seemed to me grotesque. The races of the world to me were like flowers in a garden, and I would cherish every variety for its own especial excellence; far from being too numerous, they were not numerous enough, and there was not enough variety. The French seemed to be dropping into the second class, according to the judgment of force and numbers, but how could humanity afford to lose the French ideal of life? The French had done more for abstract justice in their social relations and more, too, for the ideal in art than any other race; we couldn't afford to lose the French. Yet, there are only forty millions of French people, whereas there are already nearly two hundred millions of Anglo-Saxons, and soon there will be a thousand millions, and yet what mistakes they make! Would not the consciousness of power make them increasingly intolerant?
I couldn't influence Rhodes; he talked to me repeatedly of Bartle Frere's idea: the English should possess Africa from the Cape to Cairo. 'They already own more than one-half of the Temperate Zone,' I said; 'isn't that enough for them? And they don't know how to use it.'
Still, I had already come to see that the vast central plateau of Africa from the Cape to Cairo was the most magnificent possession in the world, finer far than even the North American colonies that England had thrown away. Was it the chance of insular position, or really some superiority in the race, that had given one empire after the other into their possession? On the surface, it was merely the greed of the aristocratic English class to get ever more land into their power. But their continual extraordinary growth perhaps shows some spiritual ascendency. I should like to believe it, though I later found certain special virtues in the attempts at German colonization.
One day at dinner I ventured on a jest which distressed Rhodes dreadfully. I said I could understand God, in His youth, falling in love with the Jews, an extremely attractive race, but in His old age to fall in love with the Anglo- Saxon was a proof of senility that I could hardly forgive Him. Rhodes cried out at once: 'You say things, Harris, that hurt.'
'I would like to shock your idolatry of the English,' I cried; 'fancy the race that loves commerce and wealth more than any other and yet refuses for a century to adopt the metric system in weights and measures and coinage!
Harold Frederic used always to talk of the stupid Britons.
'The masters of the world,' Rhodes retorted.
'Nonsense,' I replied. 'The Americans are already far stronger and more reasonable.'
We parted friends but disagreed profoundly.
Rhodes was completely uneducated, ignorant, indeed, to a degree that was painful; an almost blind force from which as much might be feared as hoped.
Yet perhaps of his want of education, he was in most intimate sympathy with the intense patriotism and imperial ideas of the English governing class, and he was rich enough to advance his views in a hundred ways; money, to him, was chiefly a means to an end.
After much talk with Sivewright, I called on Jan Hofmeyr, who greeted me with the old kindness. 'Very glad you've come out,' he said; 'now there's some chance of making title truth known.' He did not conceal his profound disappointment with Rhodes. 'Another Briton,' he said, 'whom we had taken for a great Afrikander,' and he added, with rare prescience, 'he may do worse for us yet! He's really madder than Oom Paul.' We talked for hours day after day and at length, when I had to say 'Goodbye,' he gave me a letter to Chief Justice Kotze at Pretoria, whom he praised cordially: 'He will give you pure wine to drink on almost every South African subject.'
From Sivewright and Jan Hofmeyr I got the truth about the raid and then called on Sir Hercules Robinson, the Governor General. He was before all an official, and an English official at that, but he had a certain understanding of South Africa and the best South African opinion; and though he sympathized with Rhodes's imperial ambitions, he would never defend such an outrage as the raid.
He seemed to have aged a good deal in the three or four years since I had seen him in London. I noticed signs of nervousness in him that I had not expected. He astonished me almost at once by saying: 'We are still friends, are we not?'
'Of course; always,' I replied warmly.
'People have been saying,' he went on, 'that you were sent out by Chamberlain, but that can hardly be true. He would surely have let me know. Still, he is capable even of that, I suppose.'
His words and tone set me marveling. But for the moment I could not occupy myself with his opinion of Chamberlain. I noted that he was a good deal irritated and left it at that.
'No,' I replied, 'no, I have nothing to do with Mr. Chamberlain. I imagine he would hardly be likely to send me as an agent.'
'I am glad of that,' said Hercules Robinson. 'We can then be on the old footing, can't we?'
I nodded.
'Why didn't you come to see me at once?'
'To tell you the truth,' I answered frankly, 'I wanted to see Jan Hofmeyr, wanted certain information before I came. I had to get clear in my own mind about the raid and Rhodes's complicity in it, and I didn't think it would be fair to question you in your position-I, your friend.'
'You have found out all you wanted to know?'
'I have found out that you were all in it,' I replied, thinking the challenge would excite him. 'Rhodes planned it of course, but you winked at it.'
'Winked at it,' he repeated hotly; 'you are mistaken: it isn't true.'
'Oh, no,' I laughed. 'I was saying, 'winked' at it to be very diplomatic and polite. You knew all about it.'
'Indeed, I did not,' he took me up. 'What put that into your head?'
'Come,' I said gravely. 'Surely you won't maintain that an armed force could have lain weeks on the border without your knowing it.'
'But I assure you,' he said, 'you are mistaken. I knew nothing of the raid.'
'I should like to take your word,' I persisted, 'but it is impossible. I have absolute proof.'
'Proof?' he cried. 'That's impossible. You must explain: you must see that your statement is-is-dishonoring. I have assured Krueger on my honor that it isn't true; he accepted my assurance, so must you.'
I shook my head. 'I'm afraid I can't.'
'But I can explain everything,' he went on. 'For the first time in my experience the Colonial Office acted over my head. If you must know the whole truth, Chamberlain withdrew the political officer who was on the border; Chamberlain said he would deal with the matters connected with Jameson directly. I shrugged my shoulders, and let it pass. It was all a part, I thought, of his new method of doing business. He has his own peculiar methods,' he concluded bitterly.
New light began to drift in on me; at least a hitherto unthought of suspicion.
'But you saw Rhodes on the matter,' I ventured. 'He must have told you at any rate that Jameson's forces were there to bring a little pressure on Krueger; he must have talked to you about the reform agitation he had helped to get up in Johannesburg.'
'I shouldn't have listened to such nonsense for a moment,' cried Robinson.
'The way to get things out of Krueger is to behave straightforwardly with him.'
'Rhodes got something out of him over the Drifts business by threatening war.'
'That was different,' Robinson admitted reluctantly. 'Krueger felt he was in the wrong there. But now I hope you understand that I had no complicity in that shameful, stupid raid.'
I had resolved to continue, so I persisted.
'I told you I had proofs,' I replied. 'You have destroyed one supposition, but the proofs remain.'
'Proofs?' he said, in an anxious, irritated tone of voice. 'There are none; there can't be any, Harris.'
'Indubitable proofs,' I repeated.
'It's impossible,' he exclaimed. 'Treat me like a friend. I tell you on my word of honor I knew nothing of the raid.'
