'No,' I said smiling, 'I should like to know.'
'What I proposed in council,' he roared, glaring at me, 'was to lead each by the ear to the border and kick their bottoms back into Bechuana-land.'
'Why didn't you do it?' I cried, shouting with laughter. 'Oh, my goodness!
What a pity you didn't do it and enrich history with a unique scene. The most genial proposal I ever heard. That is what ought to have been done with them: impudence should always be met with contempt.'
My delighted acceptance of his proposal brought the old man to good humor at once, but he was still suspicious.
'Do you know,' he went on, 'that one of Jameson's lieutenants, a leader of the raid, an officer in your army, too, told the Bechuanaland police that the raid was looked upon favorably by the government?'
'But the police,' I said, 'didn't believe him. If the police had come in as raiders, then the complicity of the government would be difficult to deny.'
'Hercules Robinson is honest,' said Krueger, as if to himself, 'good, too, but getting old and weak: thinks it clever to speak with two tongues. But we shall soon know.'
'Know what?' I asked.
'Know whether your government, whether Chamberlain and Rhodes were agreed.'
'How will time help you?' I asked, wondering.
The old man went into a long explanation which the Chief Justice translated, telling me that notebooks, and telegrams had been found upon the battlefield, and that they had all been decoded, and established the complicity of Rhodes and Beit in the raid up to the hilt. I was told I might go and see the telegrams, and I did see them all the next day, some time early in February, the same telegrams that were published in The Times in May, and caused a sensation.
But Krueger was not to be diverted for long from the main point.
'We shall soon know,' he repeated, 'whether Chamberlain was behind Rhodes or not.'
'How?' I asked.
'Well,' he said, 'it is clear that the English people were behind him. Look how they cheer the raiders, and how they talk of them as heroes. But if they punish them that will be clear, and if they punish Rhodes, then I shall know that Chamberlain and the government were not behind him.'
There was such menace in the old man's voice and manner, such rage of anger, that I tried to show him the other side.
'Difficult,' I said 'to punish Rhodes. How would you have him punished?'
'Oh,' he cried, 'I don't want him punished in money or in person. He was made a Privy Councillor. Let them take that away from him: anything to show their disapproval, and I shall be content. I want to believe that the English government is honest, as it was when Gladstone was there.'
I could not help but admit that that might be done, should be done.
'If it is not done,' cried the old man, 'I shall know what to do.'
'What?' I asked.
He growled and glared, and didn't answer, but one night after dinner Kotze told me that Chamberlain had asked Krueger to come to London and state his case, saying that he would be treated with perfect fairness. I knew that Chamberlain disliked Rhodes, personally, and had never forgiven him for giving ten thousand pounds to Parnell, and when Kotze told me all this, I said to him that I thought I ought to see the President again; and he arranged for the meeting immediately and undertook as before to act as interpreter between us.
This last interview with Krueger seemed to me very important: first of all, I thanked him for letting Leyds show me the telegrams that proved that the Jameson Raiders were on their way to overthrow the Transvaal government, and I got the President's permission to publish the telegrams as I wished. I then alluded to the trial of the chief raiders and said I hoped that no capital punishment would be inflicted. 'It would be ridiculous,' I said, 'to punish the servants with death and let the master go free.' Krueger nodded agreement.
'President,' I added, 'as we agree on so much, I want to persuade you to go to London as Chamberlain desires. You will give him the parliamentary triumph which he wants, and in return he will give you a free hand against Rhodes. You needn't fear for the independence of the Transvaal if you do this: it will be insured for our time at least.' 'Why should I go to London?' he broke in. 'Policy,' I said, 'nothing else. Chamberlain is much more dangerous than Rhodes: if you get Chamberlain on your side, you need fear nothing for the next twenty years.'
'Do you mean,' he said, 'that otherwise the English would come and try to take the Transvaal again?'
'I have no right to speak for them,' I said, 'but I am frightened; Englishmen don't believe that forty or fifty thousand Boers should be allowed to play despots and deprive one hundred thousand Englishmen of political rights in the country which they have made wealthy. You will have to judge the matter, Mr. President,' I added, 'but Chamberlain is strong either as a friend or an enemy, and I always remember what Ben Franklin, one of the wisest of Americans, said: 'There never was a good war or a bad peace.''
'We have a better friend than Chamberlain,' he said. 'You forget that we have the Almighty God, and He has freed the Transvaal once for all.'
'I can only tell you,' I said, 'how I think the game should be played; I am no one, you are one of the protagonists.'
'I am glad to have met you,' was his concluding speech to me; 'for the first time I have met an Englishman who tells me what he considers the exact truth. I hope you will put our case plainly before the public, and I don't say I won't take your advice about Chamberlain, though I dislike the idea of going to London. I have grown old,' he barked, 'and am tired, and I got nothing in London before.'
'There is much to get there now,' were my last words, 'and you would win Chamberlain easily.'
Delighted with my praise, the old man said, 'As soon as I heard of the raid I got out my rifle and put on my old veltschoon; I was going to lead my burghers against Jameson, but-' he pointed to Kotze, 'he and the others persuaded me not to go.'
Whatever Krueger was, he was a great old fighter! It was his courage and combativeness which led him to his ruin. I remember saying to Kotze when we came away: 'Unless Krueger goes to London and gives Chamberlain his parliamentary triumph, he will be sorry for it. There is a great text in the Bible; I wonder if you know it: 'If thou hadst known, at least in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace! but now they are hid from thine eyes!''
Of course Kotze understood. When we parted I told him that I would send the telegrams to the Saturday Review to be published-but I must pass over that story in silence, for it reminded me of the worldly wisdom of Dante's phrase:
Degli amici guarda mi Dio
Degli memici mi guardo lo
'God save me from my friends; my enemies I'll take care of myself.'
In the days that followed, and after my return to England, I saw plainly enough how Krueger's suspicions must be strengthened to certainty. The raiders were received in London by cheering crowds: the leaders, who were punished by short terms of imprisonment, were let out even before the term had been served. Rhodes was regarded everywhere as a hero, and even the commission that was set on foot to bring the truth to light contented itself with finding out little or nothing, and with rewarding instead of punishing the villain.
One scene from that commission I must give because it is of historic interest; it was the only real attempt made to cross-examine Rhodes before the commission, and it established not only his complicity, but threw a more sinister light on the whole conspiracy; and established finally, in my mind, the guilty complicity of Joseph Chamberlain.
The chairman of the commission was a Mr. Jackson, whom I had known as Financial Secretary to the Treasury. I had met him at dinners and had had long talks with him, and had learned to appreciate his fair- mindedness and good sense. He gave me a desk to myself, apart from the pressmen's desk in the room where the sittings were held. It was well in front, where I could see and hear everything.
From the beginning it was evident that it was a white-washing commission.
Everyone paid the most extravagant deference to Rhodes, a deference which often called forth from him expressions of amused contempt. Chamberlain bowed when he addressed a question to him. Sir Richard Webster was proud to help him to brandy and soda like a waiter. The idea of a millionaire as a criminal in England was too ludicrous for words. Even Labouchere lost all his pert impudence when questioning him. Indeed, poor Labby was at
