Transcribed from South Africa Magazine, 3 May 1902

FUNERAL OF THE LATE CECIL JOHN RHODES

DESCRIPTIVE DETAILS OF A MEMORABLE AND MELANCHOLY CEREMONIAL

PICTURES OF THE PATHETIC PAGEANT AT CAPE TOWN

A PILGRIMAGE TO GROOT-SCHUUR

“HE BEING DEAD, YET SPEAKETH”

(From a Special Correspondent.)

CAPE TOWN, April 7

The whole British Empire is mourning the death of Cecil John Rhodes; but, as is only natural, it is in South Africa, the country of his adoption, the land of his successes, and, alas! the scene of his death, that the grief is most universal and profound. British, Dutch, and natives, high and low, rich and poor, are joined together by the irreparable loss which in common they have suffered; and they are sorrowing, not with the shallow grief which breaks into loud lamentations and wailings, and which, by its very vehemence, wears itself out and passes away, but with a deep, lasting sorrow, too great for tears, too overwhelming for words.

Before the nation had really awakened to the fact that the great Empire-maker was seriously ill, before even many of us in this city had realized that in the little cottage at Muizenberg there was being waged a fierce struggle with death, there came the news—sudden, appalling, crushing—that he had passed away. The mind reeled under the shock, and for a time many could not realize what had happened. Rhodes dead? The greatest man of South Africa—nay, as some have not hesitated to say, the greatest man of his time—beloved by his friends, honoured by his enemies—dead? Impossible! Then, as the first numbing effects of the blow passed off, and the anxiety of doubt gave place to the sharper pain of certainty, the whole city, and then the whole country, was plunged into deepest sorrow, sincere and unaffected.

Mr. Rhodes died on Wednesday Evening, March 26, in the little cottage at Muizenberg, where he had resided during his illness. Early on the Thursday morning the remains were conveyed to Groot-Schuur, Rondebosch, the South African home of the “mighty dead,” where on the Saturday 15,000, and on Easter Monday over 30,000, people came to pay a last tribute of respect to the memory of the great statesman. It was on the latter day that the writer journeyed to Rondebosch and joined the crowd of sorrowful men, women, and children, which, all through that bright summer day, streamed up the lovely avenue of stately pine trees, up to the house and into the mortuary chapel, where lay the remains of the deceased. It was a sad, mournful procession; no laugh or jest was heard, and mostly in silence the people passed on, every face clouded with a deep and sincere sorrow. All classes of the community were represented in this soberly-clad, sad-faced crowd; old and young, rich and poor, white, black, and coloured, were all there, drawn by the one impulse, to render homage to the memory of the dead. One could see that this was no sight-seeing crowd, thirsting to take part in something novel and unusual; the demeanour and dress of the people at once dispelled any such idea.

As the mourners reached the house and passed up the wide steps between masses of lovely hydrangeas, each head was reverentially bared, and in dead silence the people entered, crossed the magnificent oak-paneled hall, and through the draped entrance of the mortuary chamber beyond where lay the coffin containing the remains of the deceased. On either side of the catafalque, which was covered with a deep purple pall, burned three wax candles in massive brazen candlesticks, lighting up with a subdued radiance the somber gloom of the chamber, and giving an effect at the same time strangely weird and impressive. At the head of the coffin was a crucifix of brass resting against a beautiful wreath of everlastings. Other wreaths were arranged around in the greatest profusion, the flowers showing pure and spotless white against the dark background. Here and there in the chamber were pieces of furniture, antique and curios; a massive cupboard, dark in hue and bound with great brasses; an old Dutch clock, ticking away mournfully and persistently; and on the walls a picture or two of rare value. The whole scene was impressive in the extreme; the sudden change from the garish sunlight outside to the darkened chamber, with gloom only partially dispelled by the fitful flickering of the candles; the heavy canopy of black material over the entrance; the dark covering of the catafalque, against which the wreaths stood out white as snow; and all the time a reverential bareheaded crowd, in silence, only broken by a woman’s half-stifled sob, passing with a continual, hushed movement—almost as if by stealth—past the coffin, and so out into the broad daylight again. The strong glare of the sunlight after the dark almost brought tears to the eyes, but there was many a moist eye that day from a far different cause.

On leaving the house the visitors crossed the broad stoep which was a favourite resort of Mr. Rhodes, and thence passed up the wide terraces between masses of hydrangeas and blue plumbago in the full glory of bloom, and so reached the lovely green lawns which stretch far up the slope of the Devil’s Peak. Here, in the welcome shade of the trees, many rested, surveying the restful beauty of the scene, and sadly indulging in reminiscences of the great man now gone for ever. At their feet were the broad terraces, gently sloping down to the house, embedded in trees and quaint in its old Dutch style, with broad, pillared stoep, white walls, and curious spiral-shaped chimneys. To the right and left lay broad expanses of grass bordered with magnificent trees in full leaf; and behind the long tree-clad slopes, rising gently at first, then steeper, every upward, till bare and rugged they merge into the rocky crest of the Devil’s Peak.

Great in death, as he was great in life, Mr. Rhodes has left the magnificent estate and house of Groot-Schuur to the nation. The house is destined to be the residence of the First Minister of the Federated Government of South Africa—the Federated South Africa which, thank God, is no longer an improbable dream, but a consummation to be attained in the near future. In this we see the true greatness of the man; his schemes for the advancement and good of the country were not to vanish at his own death, but to be carried on by other hands. He eliminated self; he had no wish for personal aggrandizement; he was all for the country, and his works live after him, as the legend attached to the wreath placed on the bier by the Cape Government so well expressed it: “He being dead, yet speaketh.” Would to God he had been spared to guide the destinies of the great Federated South Africa; to live as its First Minister ‘neath the peak which he so loved; to see his hopes realized, his wishes attained, and his desires achieved, instead of being cut off in sight of the promised land.

DETAILS OF CAPE TOWN’S SAD CEREMONIES

FIRST STATE OF THE MOURNFUL PILGRIMAGE

On the night of Wednesday, April 2, the remains of the late Cecil John Rhodes were removed from Groot-Schuur, and the first stage of the long journey to their final resting place was completed. Previous to the removal, a private service was held at Groot-Schuur, at which the members of the late Mr. Rhodes’s family and some of his intimate personal friends were present. It was shortly after ten when the remains were removed, and owing to the fact that the time at which the removal was to take place was not generally known, the mournful cortege attracted little notice as it passed along the Main Road to the City and up Parliament Street. The remains were followed by Colonel Frank Rhodes, Dr. Jameson, Dr. Smartt (Commissioner of Public Words), Sir Charles Metcalfe, Mr. J. Grimmer, and Mr. Gordon le Sueur, and were escorted by a detachment of Cape Police under Lieut.-Colonel Robinson, C.M.G. At the Houses of Parliament, the coffin was received by Mr. E. F. Kilpin, C.M.G., Clerk of the House of Assembly, a guard of the Cape Police being drawn up on the steps of the building. Here too, were Mr. J. A. Stevens, Secretary of the Chartered Company, and several members of the staff. During the night members of the Cape Police kept watch over the body.

LYING IN STATE IN THE HOUSE

On Thursday, the scene in the vestibule of the House of Assembly was one not likely to be forgotten by the thousands of people who visited it and reverentially paid their last tribute of respect to the illustrious dead. The predominating note, indeed, was one of reverence. From the moment that the entrance gates to the Houses of Parliament were reached until the exit at the House of Assembly end of the building every head was bared, not a sound was made beyond the muffled tread of many footsteps.

From ten o’clock a.m., at which hour the gates were open to the public, there was a continuous stream of people making their way up Parliament Street, and winding into the grounds surrounding the Houses of Parliament, on the steps of which as well as outside the gates were stationed men of the Cape Police with fixed bayonets. On the steps people waited in silence until their turn came to be admitted. All were imbued with the spirit of reverence. Over the entrance to the vestibule was a chaplet of foliage, surrounded by tasteful drapings of black. The vestibule itself was hung with black and purple. Around the sides of the rooms were wreaths—a perfect maze of flowers and foliage. In the centre of the vestibule a space was roped off within which were piled more wreaths, forming a continuous blaze of white flowers until at the further end the massive coffin was placed upon a catafalque. Conspicuous upon the coffin was the lovely wreath which bore on its broad silk ribbon the simple but touching words: “From the Queen.” The only other wreaths placed upon the coffin were those from Mr. Rhodes’s family, from Dr. Jameson, and from Sir Charles Metcalfe. At the head of the coffin was placed a small crucifix immediately above the Queen’s wreath. In the immediate neighbourhood were magnificent wreaths from Lord Kitchener and Lord Milner, while tastefully arranged around the further end of the vestibule were further floral emblems of various and beautiful designs.

Stationed at each corner of the coffin were four members of the Cape Police, with heads bowed and rifles reversed. In the Gallery and immediately above the coffin was another member of the force in similar respectful attitude. The man stood absolutely motionless, and their presence added in no small degree to the general appearance of solemnity and reverence. Attendants of the House of Assembly were in waiting to direct the procession of sorrowful mourners past the coffin. Tears were welling in many eyes, as the building was left behind. The light in the vestibule during the morning was gained simply from the electric lights in the roof of the building, the windows all being draped with black. The effect of the subdued light greatly enhanced the quiet and solemn beauty of the scene.

THE PROCESSION THROUGH THE AVENUE

Government Avenue, in Cape Town, is a very beautiful place, and the ancient oaks give it a grandeur all its own. On this mournful Thursday they looked down upon a scene which has never been equaled in the city. As early as half-past one the various units began to take form, and at 2:30 the procession had been fully marshaled, and was ready to start upon its journey through the streets to St. George’s Cathedral. The most brilliant effect of colour was contributed by the Admiral and Staff, and their striking uniforms were thrown into higher relief, on the one hand by the somber black of the civil element, and on the other by the quiet khaki of the General Commanding, the Colonel Commanding the Base, and their respective Staffs. All sections of society were represented. The central point of the procession was, of course, the “Long Cecil” gun carriage with its precious burden. Upon it reposed the coffin, made of Mashonaland teak. It was covered by a silk ensign from the Loyal Women’s League, with the inscription “Farewell, great heart,” the Union Jack, and the Chartered Company’s flag. Immediately behind the bier walked Colonel Frank Rhodes, D.S.O., C.B., a truly venerable figure, and the two other brothers of the deceased; while Dr. Jameson and the remaining pall-bearers walked on either side. It was a few minutes after the half-hour when the gleam of the sentries’ bayonets at the portico of the House of Assembly announced, as they presented arms, that Mr. Rhodes’s remains were about to emerge from the Houses of Parliament; and as the bright colours of the flags covering the coffin met the gaze, a thrill appeared to run through the whole assemblage in the Avenue. The progress of the coffin to the gun-carriage was watched with intense interest, many present being deeply moved. In due course it was placed upon the bier, and, at a given signal, the band of the D.E.O.V.R., which headed the procession, struck up Beethoven’s solemn Funeral March, and the procession moved off at a slow and measured pace into Adderley Street. The following is the official plan of the procession:--

Police Escort

Lieutenant-Colonel Robinson and Detachment of Cape Police

Band of the D.E.O.V.R.

Contingent of D.E.O.V.R.

Servants of the Deceased

Staffs of Chartered and De Beers Companies

Representatives of the Kimberley and Beaconsfield other than those already placed

Representatives of Divisional Councils of Cape and Barkly West

Pipers of Cape Town Highlanders.

Commanding Officers Volunteers and Town Guards

Officers of the Department of Colonial Defence

Principal Heads of Departments

Mayors and Representative Councillors of Suburban Municipalities

Mayor of Rondebosch

Mayor of Beaconsfield and two Councillors

Mayor of Kimberley and two Councillors

Corporation of Cape Town

Mayor of Cape Town, Town Clerk, and Mace Bearer

Band of the Cavalry Depot

Rhodesia Pioneers (25)

Members of House of Assembly

Members of Legislative Council

The Hon. the Speaker

Clerk and Sergeant-at-Arms

His Honour the President, Clerk, and Black Rod

Pall Bearers:

Dr. Jameson, C.B., M.L.A. The Coffin Right Hon. Sir Gordon Sprigg, P.C., M.L.A.

Hon. Dr. Smartt, M.L.A. Mr. L. L. Michell

Mr. J. B. Currey Dr. Stevenson

Hon. T. L. Graham Sir Charles Metcalfe, Bart.

Colonel Frank Rhodes, D.S.O., C.B., Chief Mourner

Mr. Arthur Rhodes, Lieutenant-Colonel Elmhirst Rhodes, D.S.O.

Messrs. Atkinson, Nind, Hirschhorn, T. Tyson, Williams, Pickering,

Theo. Schreiner and Quinan

H.E. the Governor’s Representative (Major Deane, Military Secretary)

H.E. the High Commissioner’s Representative (Colonel Southey, C.M.G.)

Messrs. J. Grimmer, Jourdaan, Gordon le Sueur, Rudyard Kipling,

J. A. Stevens, and E. R. Syfret

His Majesty’s Judges and Members of the Executive Council

Rear-Admiral Moore, C.B., C.M.G., and Staff

Major-General Sir H. Settle, K.C.B., and Staff

Representatives of the Churches, and Bishop Gaul’s Representative

Council of the University

Representatives of South Africa College Senate and the Diocesan College

Council

Representatives of the Learned Professions.

Representatives of Chamber of Commerce

Representatives of South African League

Representatives of Cape Town Hebrew Congregation

Band of Cape Garrison Artillery

Representatives of Friendly Societies

Salt River Workmen

Dynamite Factory Workmen

De Beers Workmen

Troop of Peninsula Horse

Police Escort

REMARKABLE STREET SCENES

Cape Town as a city was in deep mourning the whole of that memorable day. Not only along the route of the funeral cortege, but also in the cross streets and others far removed, heavy drapes of crape and purple were to be seen, while it is safe to assert that every flag in the city was half-masted. The trams and trains brought thousands of people in from the suburbs and the surrounding districts, and shortly after mid-day the streets began to fill up. During the morning the larger proportion of the people were paying their last sad respects to the remains in the vestibule of the Houses of Parliament, but by 1 o’clock the streets through which the procession was to pass were thronged with a quiet and orderly multitude, mostly clad in deep mourning. Adderley Street, from the avenue downwards, was closely packed, the troops keeping the line of traffic clear. All the larger houses of business were deeply draped in black, and many of the smaller ones in proportion. The railway station was particularly noticeable for a heavy fringe of black and purple on every coping, the effect against the grey background of the building being very striking. Another very effective idea was the draping of the posts for the tramway cables, right up the centre of the street. As time wore on, the streets grew more and more crowded, but the usual concomitants of mere “sight-seeing” were entirely absent. The public were taking a long farewell of one whose name was still as a household word, and instead of exclamations and excited rushings from point to point, there was a great hush and orderly quietude wherever the cortege passed. As the head of the procession emerged from the Avenue, the strains of a military band were heard in the distance. Then the hush fell over all, as the mounted escort, preceded by the Cape Police under Colonel M. B. Robinson, C.M.G., passed through the lines held by the infantry. The procession moved forward with slow and solemn stateliness, the strains of the Funeral March gradually increasing as the band drew near. This seemed the critical moment with the crowd at the top end of Adderley Street, so deep seemed to be the feeling among them all. No sound broke from them as the cortege wound its way slowly along, and no sign was made until the gun-carriage, drawn by eight horses, containing the coffin covered by two Union Jacks, came by. Then a deep sigh went up, heads were bared, and many wept. At the Standard Bank, the crowd seemed more dense than at any other point of the journey, and from thence onwards the procession went past the General Post Office, and so into Strand Street. About this point dead silence supervened for a few moments, and then arose the solemn strains of Handel’s “Dead March.” By the time Greenmarket square was reached, the whole of the bands, including the pipe band, were playing. In the heavily-draped square an enormous crowd had assembled, for, in addition to those who had taken this as their permanent position, a large number of people had come across from Adderley and St. George’s Streets, and now thronged the lower side of the square. Burg Street itself was crowded, and every window and balcony was occupied, but towards the upper end, turning into Wale Street, it was simply next to impossible to move. Slowly the troops moved on, and slowly followed the mourners with the coffin. At the Cathedral gates the bands passed and paused, and there the church claimed precedence, the coffin being received by the dignitaries of the Cathedral

SOLEMN FUNERAL SERVICE

Long before the hour appointed for the service, the privileged seat-holders had taken up their places in the Cathedral. In spite of the continual movement of incoming worshippers and of church officers passing to and fro, the sacred building was profoundly hushed. The Easter decorations, with their pure white hangings and choice flowers, were singularly appropriate. The congregation itself was in deepest mourning. Some 300 seats had been reserved for Government officials, members of Parliament, and the representatives of public bodies throughout South Africa who were taking part in the funeral train. With these exceptions the seats were fully occupied, and all awaited the strains of music from the bands without which were to announce the approach of the procession. At three o’clock the congregation rose to its feet as His Excellency the Governor (Sir W. F. Hely-Hutchinson), accompanied by the Hon. Lady Hely-Hutchinson, and attended by Captain Gordon, A.D.C., entered the building, and took their seats in the Government House pew. A few moments later the beautiful strains of Guilmant’s Funeral March floated through the Cathedral, and then after an impressive pause of silence, the organist rendered Guilmant’s Chorus of Seraphs, and subsequently the same composer’s Andante Pathetica and Mendelssohn’s and Beethoven’s Funeral Marches. With the music of the organ and the strains of the bands in the approaching procession, the solemn tolling of the Cathedral bell mingled intermittently. Shortly after three o’clock the Archbishop, the clergy, the churchwardens, and the choir filed forth from the vestry, proceeding down the central isle to the portico, there to await the arrival of the coffin. Ten minutes later the plaintive notes of Chopin’s Funeral March told the watchers in the Cathedral that the procession had reached its destination, and the advance portion of the funeral train entered the building, and were ushered to their respective seats. Prominent among these were the Speaker of the House of Assembly (Sir W. Bissett Berry), with the Sergeant-at-Arms and many members of the House of Assembly, the President of the Legislative Council (the Right Hon. Sir J. H. de Villiers, Chief Justice) and Black Rod, and following on them the various representatives of the many public bodies who were prominent in the procession. Mr. Sauer, who entered the Cathedral with the other members of the House of Assembly, left immediately before the service began, while Mr. Merriman, whose tall figure had been generally noticed in the procession, did not enter the building. Precisely at a quarter past three, the Dean’s voice was heard from the portico, reading in clear tones the opening sentences of the Burial Service. As the sentences were recited, the choir slowly advanced up the aisle, followed by the clergy and the Archbishop. All eyes turned anxiously, mournfully, to the bier upon which rested the coffin containing the mortal remains of the great dead. At the Cathedral doors it had been removed from the gun-carriage on to a movable bier, running upon wheels, and was drawn up the aisle in a silence broken only by the intermittent recitations of the funeral sentences. Behind the catafalque walked the chief mourners, the pall bearers, and the executors, and at exactly fifteen minutes past three the coffin had been set in its appointed place, just above the chancel steps. Around it were arranged eight lighted candles, and at the head a cross of brass was placed. On the altar two rows of candles were burning, but otherwise the only light in the church was that of the westering sun, whose rays were subdued by the windows of stained glass. Choir and Clergy had now all reached their places. The mourners had taken their seats. And now the organ played the opening bar of the Hymn 140, and a moment later choir and people had taken up the triumphant strains of the Easter song—

“Jesus lives! No longer now

Can thy terrors, death, appal us.”

Then followed, in a more subdued harmony, the plaintive Psalm, “Dist Custodiam.” The lesson was read by the Dean from the lecturn, which had been removed for the time being to a point near the Communion rails. The anthem was Garrett’s lovely setting to the words of Revelation xiv., 13: “I heard a voice from Heaven saying unto me, Write, From henceforth blessed are the dead which die in the Lord; even so saith the Spirit; for they rest from their labours..” Following upon the anthem came the Archbishop’s address, an eloquent and strangely moving funeral oration, which moved many to tears. The Archbishop himself was evidently deeply moved, his voice frequently almost failing him. The services ended most appropriately with that most beautiful and touching of funeral hymns, “Now the Labourer’s Task is O’er,” and the officers appointed began to remove the coffin to the Cathedral doors as the last two lines of the hymn were being chanted—

“Father, in thy gracious keeping

Leave we now Thy servant sleeping.”

For a moment after the last Amen there was a deep hush. Then the ineffably solemn music of the Dead March from Saul burst forth, and one may doubt if it has ever been more impressively rendered. To the awful grandeur of the Funeral March the coffin was borne down the aisle, and reverently placed on the famous gun-carriage. The congregation quietly dispersed into the streets, and at a quarter-past four, just an hour after its arrival, the funeral procession proceeded on its way to the Railway Station, the Dean and the clergy accompanying the coffin to the funeral car.

THE LAST STAGE

It was almost half-past four before the procession entered Adderley Street, and it was a quarter to five before it turned the corner at the railway station. It did not form as on the first occasion, the band of the C.G.A. together with the representatives of the friendly societies, preceding the procession proper, and receiving the cortege at the station. After the cortege had passed the Post Office corner, the public remained standing, bareheaded. They seemed only then to realize to the full the solemnity of what they had witnessed and comprehend what they had lost.

AT THE STATION

“To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die,” was the appropriate inscription over the entrance from the Grand Parade to the Railway Station, through which the funeral procession passed on its way to the De Beers car, specially prepared for the conveyance of Mr. Rhodes’s body to the North. Around the precincts of the station a large, but orderly, crowd assembled early. A considerable force of military and police were on duty, and a semi-circle was formed across the Parade, resting, rainbow-fashion, on the walls of the railway enclosure. Within the semi-circle were drawn up the members of the various friendly societies, whilst the band of the Cape Garrison Artillery took up a position opposite the entrance, and, pending the arrival of the funeral procession, discoursed a selection of solemn music befitting the occasion. Inside the station itself was drawn up a detachment of the 2^nd Battalion Cape Peninsula Regiment, with arms reversed, a small hand carriage being in readiness within the station for the purpose of conveying the coffin along the platform to the De Beers saloon. The station, like the train itself, was heavily draped in black and purple, and the leading engine carried in front of its bogie a small flagstaff, with the Union Jack hoisted half-mast high. The entire train was hung with purple and black draperies, whilst the funeral car itself had been converted into a traveling mortuary chamber, the coffin resting upon a bier of teakwood, covered with purple cloth. At the head of the coffin a small altar had been erected, upon which reposed a cross, with two lighted candles. Guards of Cape Police were on duty on each side of the saloon. The exterior of the car was heavily draped with black and purple cloth, more so, naturally, than the remainder of the train, although the scheme of draping was carried out throughout all the coaches on a uniform plan. The composition of the train was as follows: First, the two engines, the second of which was followed by the saloon conveying the coffin. Next to this came the Commissioner’s saloon, No. 521, on which were accommodated Dr. Jameson, Dr. Smartt, and his private secretary, Mr. Hemmens. Next came the buffet car. That was followed by the first Rhodesian sleeping car, in which were accommodated Colonel Frank Rhodes, D.S.O., Mr. Arthur Rhodes, Major Elmhurst Rhodes, Sir Charles Metcalfe, Mr. L. L. Mitchell, and Mr. J. A. Stevens. In the second Rhodesian sleeping car were Messrs. C. E. Nind, Pickering, F. Masey, J. Saxon Mills (Cape Times), George Ralling (Cape Argus), the Mayor of Kimberley (Mr. W. H. Foley), and Mr. Gordon le Sueur (late private secretary to Mr. Rhodes). The High Commissioner’s representative was to join at De Aar. In the third Rhodesian sleeping car were Messrs. Theo. Schreiner, J. Grimmer, P. Jourdaan, Duncan H. A. Oliver, P. Salisbury, T. R. Price, C.M.G. (General Manager of Railways), and Mr. Beatty (Chief Locomotive Superitendent). The remaining coaches consisted of a dining car, guard’s van, and a first-class Cape Government railway saloon, the entire train being in charge of the General Manager of Railways, while the domestic arrangements were entrusted to Conductor Ross, who for so many years has had charge of the mail train running between Johannesburg and Cape Town.

At 4:25 the distant sounds of funeral music betokened the approach of the procession. The troops stood with their arms reversed, and the sounds of the military music became gradually more and more plain till the strains of Handel’s “Dead March” were audible to those assembled on the platform and to the crowd on the Parade, who stood awaiting the arrival of the cortege in respectful and orderly silence. Soon the procession reached the entrance to the station, and at a quarter to five the coffin was placed on the small carriage within the station, and conveyed to the funeral car, the principal mourners following bareheaded up the platform. As soon as the coffin was placed in position on the car, the curtains were drawn back, and the group of mourners, comprising the Prime Minister and the members of the Government, remained standing opposite until, at five o’clock precisely, the signal was given, and the funeral train slowly steamed out of the station.

MORE PERSONAL GLIMPSES

WHY HE LOST THE WITWATERSRAND

Dr. Hans Sauer, who knew Mr. Cecil Rhodes for twenty years, and in his company rode many thousands of miles over the veld, gives an interesting sketch of the personality of the Colossus in the Empire Review. The writer says he never met Mr. Rhodes’s equal as a business man. He could as easily have made fifty as five millions, if money-getting was his object in life. But it was not. Money, as money, did not interest him in the least; he regarded his fortune as merely held in trust for his country.

“Probably no man who ever lived in South Africa has given away so much and so unostentatiously as did Cecil Rhodes. His purse was always open to his friends—in fact, to any one in need. Rhodes once showed me two large drawers in his study at Groot-Schuur full of letters recommending young men from the Old Country, and I can safely say that every case received his consideration, and 90 per cent his help and assistance.” His personal expenditure was almost nominal, and his gear and outfit always of the simplest. On the Rhodesian veld the ordinary camp fare was good enough for him.

Here is a characteristic story. At Marandella’s while waiting for dinner, he came across a ragged old prospector. The man was munching a loaf of dry bread given him by the innkeeper. In his usual jerky way Mr. Rhodes said to him: “Don’t eat that bread, come and have dinner with me.” Very few people know that Mr. Rhodes could have possessed practically the whole of the Witwatersrand Gold Fields, in 1886. But he left all to nurse a friend who was ill at Kimberley, remaining for months until the end came. Dr. Sauer urged him to secure options now valued at hundreds of millions. “I must go to my friend,” was Mr. Rhodes’s reply. Next morning Mr. Rhodes started by the mail-cart to go 300 miles to Kimberley. Telegrams dispatched to Kimberley were unanswered. Mr. Rhodes was sitting and watching by the bedside of his dying friend. The opportunity was lost for ever.

THE CHARMS OF GROOT-SCHUUR

The London correspondent of the Manchester Guardian has a Cape Town friend who has given him the following pen pictures of the great man in his hours of relaxation at Groot-Schuur:--

One day when Mr. Rhodes was showing some visitors the splendid grounds of Groot-Schuur the party approached a summer-house which had been erected early in the last century by one of the Dutch Governors of the Colony. “Hush,” said Mr. Rhodes in a whisper, “hush!” and motioning his companions back he advanced on tiptoe, listened, and then called out, “All right; you can come on. The coast is clear.” He then explained that he had discovered this summer-house to be a favourite resort of loving couples, and that he always shrank from disturbing them. “I like,” he said, “to think that they can escape from the ugly, noisy back streets of Cape Town and find here a fitting spot for the telling of the old, old story.” It is perhaps well enough known that Mr. Rhodes threw open the whole of his grounds, even that part of the garden immediately before the house. It was a common sight to see strangers strolling round the house as though they were guests.

Another time, when Mr. Rhodes was escorting a certain high church dignitary through the same grounds, a gorgeous patch of wild flowers crowning a knoll and thrown out against the deep blue sky made them both pause in admiration. “Ah,” said the Canon, a little unctuously, “I feel that the very angels of Heaven must gaze with delight upon such a sight as this!” “Humph,” said Rhodes, gruffly, “I don’t know about the angels; if it pleases some poor devils of colonials that’s good enough for me!” He had some sad disappointments in his attempts to naturalise certain creatures at Groot-Schuur—nightingales amongst others. One day when there was important news from Bechuanaland, two members of the Government went out in all haste from Cape Town to inform Mr. Rhodes and to settle what was to be done. But the servant at Groot-Schuur refused them admission. “Mr. Rhodes was greatly occupied just then, and said he could see no one.” They insisted. “It was absolutely necessary that they should communicate with him.” Finally they gained an entrance, and found Mr. Rhodes in consultation with one of his keepers. He stood gloomy and distraught while they poured their stirring news into his sullen ears. Then he burst out petulantly with “The devil take Bechuanaland! Look here! It is the last one!” and he held out the body of a dead nightingale.

THE KAISER’S “I HAVE MET A MAN”

Mr. E. B. Iwan-Muller, in the course of an article in the Fortnightly Review on Mr. Rhodes, gives a remarkable account of the confidential conversation which the Empire-builder had with the German Emperor when he went to Berlin to negotiate about the Cape to Cairo railway and telegraphs. When two distinguished diplomatists entered the room, to bring a prolonged tete-a-tete to a close, their hair stood on end at the blunt and characteristic frankness with which Rhodes was speaking to the Kaiser. What they did hear was a little startling, but Mr. Iwan-Muller doubts not that they would have been paralysed had they heard the rest of that interesting conversation.

There is no great indiscretion, however, in giving the substance of two very characteristic passages. The Emperor William and Rhodes had been discussing the Cape to Cairo railway, which at that time, at any rate, was to run in part through German territory. The Kaiser, who took the greatest interest in the scheme, and expressed his determination to co-operate in its execution, closed the conversation somewhat as follows:--

“Well, Mr. Rhodes, my section of the railway will be ready in two or three years, and I should much like to come and celebrate the junction with your system, but, as that will be impossible, I will send someone to represent me on the occasion.”

“No, sir,” said Rhodes “your railway won’t be ready by that time. I don’t know, sir, anything about your Germans at home, but those out in Africa are the most lethargic, unprogressive people in the world, and I am sure that it will take them many years to start their railway.”

This was unconventional enough, but there was worse to follow.

“Before I go,” said Rhodes, “I must thank you, sir , for that telegram (the famous Kruger telegram). You see, sir, that I got myself into a bad scrape, and I was coming home to be whipped as a naughty boy by grandmamma (Rhodes was in the habit of talking about the Mother Country as ‘grandmamma,’ and certainly never realized the sense which the expression would convey to the grandson of Queen Victoria) when you kindly stepped in and sent that telegram, and you got the whipping instead of me.”

The other incident occurred at an interview which took place either the next day or the day after. I am not quite sure whether the agreement under discussion referred to the Cape to Cairo telegraph or the railway, but the draft was before them, and the Emperor observed, “Well, Mr. Rhodes, I hope you are satisfied with the arrangement.”

“Not quite,” replied Rhodes, “unless, sir, you want to see Cecil Rhodes file his petition in bankruptcy.”

“What do you mean?” asked the Kaiser, who had himself given instructions for the drafting of the agreement.

“I mean this,” was the reply, “that there is a clause in this document which provides that while your Majesty undertakes to protect the railway or telegraph (whichever it was) against attacks or injury, Cecil Rhodes has to pay the whole cost incurred in such defence. Now, sir, there is nothing in the clause to prevent you from sending a whole army corps for this purpose, and if I had to pay for that I should have to file my petition.

The Kaiser laughed, and said “Quite right” and turning to Count von Bulow (I think), who was present, said, “Add words limiting Mr. Rhodes’s liability to £40,000. That’s fair, I think?” To which Rhodes replied that he was perfectly satisfied.

I was told by one, who certainly ought to have known, that after these two interviews the Kaiser remarked to a Minister, “I have met a man.” If he used those words they must have been in conscious or unconscious reminiscence of a saying of his great predecessor, Frederick the Great, with reference to the elder Pitt: “England has long been in travail, and has at last produced a man.”

KEENNESS AND KINDLINESS

Writing in the Diamond Fields Advertiser, Mr. Victor Sampson, M.L.A., has the following: “Once I took him to an old Dutch maze on his estate at Groot-Schuur, which he did not know of. On the way I thanked him for preserving the old mountain on whose sides I had grown up. He turned round and said, ‘How strange. Here you are, who wanted the mountain preserved, and here am I, sent to carry out your wish.’ Apropos of the mountain, I asked him if he had taken care to prevent the place being destroyed after his death, as I understood he had dedicated the Groot-Schuur estate to the people. He replied that he had taken very great care. Speaking the same day of an energetic fighter he said, ‘He’s a fanatic, but nothing is ever done in this war except by fanatics.’ He was very fond of children; and on one occasion when some boys in a cart waved their hats and sang out, ‘Three cheers for Mr. Rhodes,’ he was more pleased than I had ever seen him. Above all he loved independence and manliness. He always spoke highly of a cart contractor at Queenstown of whom he once wished to buy a horse. Mr. Rhodes was insistent, the man obdurate. At last the contractor turned round and said to him ‘Mr. Rhodes, you have your millions, and I have my horse. You stick to your money, I stick to my horse.’ His constancy to old friends was as noteworthy. Once a man, known intimately by him on the fields in the early days, was invited to Groot-Schuur. He protested that he was not presentable among Mr. Rhodes’s great friends. Mr. Rhodes insisted that time had not changed him, and that he would not take a refusal, and the guest told me afterwards that the dinner was one of the pleasantest he had ever been at. He also told me a good story. In the early days he came into Kimberley, and Mr. Rhodes, who was rather a duke, having two tin shanties at the back of the present Court House, invited him to stay with him. Unfortunately the spare bed had two or three battens missing, for which Mr. Rhodes apologized, but said he would see what he could do. In the evening they went to the old Craven Club. It was a bitterly cold night, and Mr. Rhodes was in a thin coat, without overcoat. When the visitor retired to bed that night he looked to see if the bedstead was all right, and found that Mr. Rhodes had used his overcoat for the purpose of mending the bed.”

THE TOY TERRIER “PADDY”

The Exhibitor has the following:--Mr. Rhodes’s fox terrier Paddy was as well known in the neighbourhood of Groot-Schuur as the Colossus himself. Paddy was a most intelligent dog, and was a general favourite with all who were intimately acquainted with him. It often happened that, buried in his thoughts, the “ruler of Africa” left the house with the intention of having a quiet stroll about the grounds, and, later on, awoke from his reverie, to find that in his waking dreams he had walked all the way into Cape Town. If Paddy was with him the household of Groot-Schuur could rest assured that their master would be home that night, for Paddy had a rooted objection to strangers, on one occasion even going so far as to insert his teeth in the calf of an inoffensive traveler in the Royal Hotel, and the fear of such a contretemps occurring again always induced Mr. Rhodes to return to Groot-Schuur at once if he had his faithful companion with him. If he was unaccompanied, Mr. Rhodes would sometimes, on these occasions, remain from home for a week or more. Eventually Paddy went the way of all flesh. A small marble slab, in the garden at Groot-Schuur records his virtues, with the trite words at the end: “He was a dog, and therefore honest.”

A PHRENOLOGICAL STUDY OF MR. RHODES

CHARACTER DELINEATION DURING THE LIFETIME OF THE LAMENTED STATESMAN

Professor Hubert, the phrenological expert, of 23, Oxford Street, favours us with an analytical sketch of Mr. Rhodes’s character, which he penned during his subject’s lifetime. In forwarding it to us the professor says:--“Herewith I am sending you a copy of a character sketch which I wrote from a photograph Mr. Rhodes kindly sent me during his stay in England, a copy of which I forwarded to him. It has occurred to me that it might be interesting to your readers to read some part of the sketch. If you think so I shall be happy for you to make use of it which you think proper. I would point out that I have not shown this sketch to anyone.” We give the sketch in full as, in our opinion, to elide any portion of it would rob it ob such interest as it possesses:--

The Right Hon. Cecil J. Rhodes is known to be an extraordinary and powerful man. That this is so is clearly indicated by his cranial developments. He is a man whom it is most difficult to understand, and it is not at all surprising that contradictory views are entertained concerning his character, even by those who are intimately acquainted with him, and who may think they know him.

Judging by cranial development which indicated brain development, it is my opinion that he is one of the most powerful men in the world—one of the greatest men. Nor does his greatness consist merely in intellectual ability and power for physical endurance, for behind the powerful mental constitution, there exists much soul—much character—much moral force.

Possibly few would suppose that Mr. Rhodes is sensitive, whereas, if he were to confidently express himself in regard to this matter, he would acknowledge that he is not only sensitive, but cares much more for the opinions of other people than he is usually willing to admit. Whilst, however, this is so, he is tremendously independent and ever ready, when necessary, to take independent action; although it affords him intense pleasure and satisfaction to feel that he possesses true and staunch friends upon whom he may rely and whom he may serve.

The public career of Mr. Rhodes is well known. His private life is not known. Phrenology credits him with possessing not only extraordinary business, commercial and political talent and tact, but ability to hide from all, excepting those in whom he has the utmost confidence, such desires and plans as have a direct bearing upon his social and personal life.

Marked antagonism exists between the lack of incredulity, and a deep inherent wish to confide in people. Many of his intimate acquaintances would not credit him with possessing so much trust and love. He is a staunch friend and most patriotic; and whilst one may suppose that so powerful a man must possess passions in common with the rest of mankind, and a corresponding amount of selfishness, yet it appears to me that to forsake or betray a friend would be one of the very last things that he would do.

The spirit of earnestness is intensely strong. He cannot help being thorough, forceful, powerful. He has made money; he has held a responsible position. Such is easy and natural to him. He cannot help making money so long as he devotes his attention to commercial enterprises. He cannot help being in the very front of any movement in which he takes an active interest.

Mr. Rhodes has worked very hard, but he seldom puts forth all his strength. Possibly he has, upon a very few occasions, when opposition has been very powerful, exerted himself to the very utmost to hold his own or attain a position, but although he usually works hard, he knows how to take things easily, and he enjoys quietude.

All important matters receive his most careful attention, and he seldom speaks without much thoughtful consideration, whilst he remembers in a marvelous manner all that he has said regarding important matters.

Mr. Rhodes could not live an aimless life. He has considerable self-reliance and is proud to know that he is holding a responsible position where he can be of so much service to his fellow-men.

Mr. Rhodes’s mind is powerfully active and exceedingly complex. It is therefore most difficult to always understand the motives which prompt him to conduct. He never professes to be particularly virtuous. He would meet men of the world on worldly or commercial lines. He would, if necessary, pit cunning against cunning; and I do not hesitate to say that he can be particularly cunning. He could be very revengeful and could hate with bitter hatred, yet is sorry if he has occasion to hate anyone; but there appears to be a corresponding fullness of development of the qualities of justice and mercy.

Mr. Rhodes is a true progressive. He desires progress in all things, and admires strength wherever it may be found. It is quite possible that some of those who know him think he is absolutely devoid of the quality of tenderness. In reality, this is not so; but he dislikes littleness and feebleness in all its forms, and, believing that some definite policy is essential to progress, is more inclined to adopt such as is calculated to preserve the strong rather than the weak.

Mr. Rhodes may desire wealth for himself, but wealth to him represents power. He, however, likes to see others powerful, and delights in strength and power of any kind. Possibly he is ambitious, but not simply for self-glorification. He would willingly play second to a man stronger than himself; but he would have to feel perfectly sure that another was stronger before he could submit his mind to the guidance and ruling of that other. He is a most attentive listener, and is usually willing to give full consideration to all facts and arguments presented to him, whether in support of, or in opposition to the policy which he may adopt. Unquestionably, he is firm, capable and reliable. He would never give up work unless he were absolutely bound to do so in consequence of a loss of physical health. Sooner than do so, he would die rather in the conflict. Mr. Rhodes is undeniably a great man, and is, in every way, fitted for a leader of a great people—for a President—for a King.

Speaking at the West Perthshire annual Highland dinner, held at Pitlochry, Mr. John Stroyan, M.P., made the following reference to the late Mr. Rhodes: Before speaking on South Africa to a West Perthshire audience I would refer to the irreparable loss that country, the British Empire, and the world have suffered in the death of the late Mr. Cecil Rhodes. Mr. Rhodes spent last autumn in the beautiful Highlands of West Perthshire, and only a fortnight before he sailed on what proved to be the last of many voyages to the Cape, he expressed to me the hope he entertained of returning to Loch Rannoch side. The late Mr. Rhodes was one of the foremost men of the Empire. It has been said he will live in history with Clive and Warren Hastings. History, gentlemen, will accord him an even higher platform. During his lifetime he was never fully understood. It was impossible that it could have been otherwise. The great Imperialist’s supreme object in life was the furtherance of British Imperial interests, and, through the instrumentality of the English-speaking people, the good of his race. His was indeed a strenuous life—a life of hard work and self-denial. He worked politically and he worked in business. He acquired wealth to be spent not on himself, but in furtherance of his great ideals. He was never guilty of a petty thought or selfish act. He now sleeps in the Matoppo Hills, and the more the world learns of Cecil Rhodes the more his labours will be appreciated and his memory revered.