D T in CO ^o o UJ The Rhodes Memorial at Oxford The Work of Cecil Rhodes Sonnet-Sequence By Theodore Watts- Dunton Author of Aylwin y The Coming of Love, &V. London Henry Frowde Price Eighteenpence THE CECIL RHODES MEMORIAL TABLET IN THE EXAMINATION SCHOOLS AT OXFORD The Rhodes Memorial at Oxford The Work of Cecil Rhodes a// Sonnet-Sequence Theodore \yatts-Dunton Author of Aylwm, The Coming of Love, &fr. London Henry Frowde TJ-T774 Oxford Horace Hart Printer to the University The Work of Cecil Rhodes THE impressive words of Lord Rosebery when he unveiled the Rhodes Memorial at Oxford on the nth June, brought vividly to my mind a still more interesting and a still larger subject the work of Cecil Rhodes. What a colossal work it was .' And yet I was assured the other day that in England it seems already half-forgotten. Can that be possible ? Is it really necessary to preface this sonnet-sequence by glancing at it ? Twenty-five years before he made the will whose provisions were the subject of Lord Rosebery 's speech, Rhodes when he was a mere boy drew up a will in his own hand-writing which opens with these words : *I contend that the British race is the finest that history has yet produced.' And in this belief in the belief that it would be good for the world for the * finest race' to dominate it he worked during all his life. The Work of Cecil Rhodes If a wave of cynicism has swept over us; if enthusiasm is, nowadays, in bad form, and if it is really the fashion to laugh at the imperialist dreamer of dreams and his grandiose sepulchre on the Matoppo Hills as I am told it is I should like to show that in this imperialist * madness ' of his there was a kind of ' method ' after all. Just let me ask, Is there not a tremendous struggle coming on in Europe a struggle of races that will make all the dynastic struggles of the past seem as insignificant as any Battle of the Frogs and Mice ? Must not outlets for the populations of the Old World be found, in temperate zones ? And if so, where are now the new countries left to develop? Ask any intelligent German about this, and note what you get for answer, note too the way in which the answer is expressed. And yet this same German will talk of England as a c decadent power '. A decadent power ! Well, well ! Whatever may be said of England's decadence as a physical force among the other great physical forces of Europe, her unique destiny as the great inspiring moral force of the world is becoming more and more apparent every day. And why ? Because, thanks to men of the Rhodes type, she is mistress of entire continents in the temperate zone. 4 The Work of Cecil Rhodes In an imaginative work of my own, I give expres- sion to this idea. I must quote the words, for I have no time to find others. Said my father, ' I once read in a Mohammedan poem about a certain " mighty river beyond the mountains of Kaf " (whose roots, it is believed, are entirely composed of precious stones), which coloured the ocean tide into which it rolled "as with the living blood of gems ".' And he repeated certain lines from the poem, and translated them for me. Beyond the peaks of Kaf a rivulet springs, Whose magic waters to a flood expand, Distilling, for all drinkers on each hand, The immortal sweets enveiled in mortal things. From honeyed flowers from balm of zephyr-wings, From fiery blood of gems, through all the land The river draws; then, in one rainbow-band, Ten leagues of nectar o'er the ocean flings. ' What a beautiful idea ! ' I said. ' Well, in the same way, it seems to me that the features of the English race I mean its language, its literature, and its traditions are colouring the great tide of human life all the world over.' I quote this because it exactly expresses Rhodes 's idea. The Work of Cecil Rhodes With regard to the Rhodes story, let me give a succinct summary of the facts. In the early eighties the British boundary on the north was the Orange river, at parallel 18. It was Kruger's desire a very natural desire, from his own point of view as a Dutch patriot to bring the terri- tory north of this line for through it ran the great South African trade route under the dominion of the Vierkleur. Rhodes knew this, and he knew some- thing more. He knew of the great German dream of absorbing not only the territory now called after Rhodes 's name, but the two Dutch Republics. In 1872 the German traveller Ernst von Weber had already proposed to Prince Bismarck to create a belt of German Empire stretching, transversely, right across the continent from German East Africa to German West Africa. In order to understand Rhodes and his scheme, it is necessary to quote the very words of this document. 1 If a European Power were to succeed in bringing these countries gradually altogether under its dominion, or at least under its political influence, a kingdom would be won thereby which in circumference as well as in wealth of its productions would not be second to the British East Indian Empire. It was this free unlimited room for annexation in the north, this open access to the heart of Africa, which 6 The Work of Cecil Rhodes principally inspired me with the idea, now more than four years ago, that Germany should try, by the acquisition of Delagoa Bay, and the subsequent continual influx of German emigrants to the Trans- vaal, to secure the future dominion over this country, and so to pave the way for the foundation of a German-African Empire of the future.' The Portuguese too had a similar dream. Now what would have resulted if these schemes had not been frustrated by Rhodes's expedition north- ward to the point where Salisbury now stands ? England's dominance in South Africa would have come to an end. I, for my part, think that the Cape itself, the keystone of the imperial arch, must eventually have been lost : that is to say, the Empire of Rhodes's ' finest race in history ' would in a few years have crumbled to pieces. This consideration, even more than the fact that Rhodes's immortal expedition won for England 1,5-00,000 square miles in a glorious climate, was what made some of us take so passionate an interest in the work of Cecil Rhodes. And it is this which now impels me to recur to certain utterances of mine in The Empire JReview and The Saturday Review^ when, in Rhodes died. 1 The Work of Cecil Rhodes As to Lord Rosebery's speech at the unveiling of the memorial, I must not trust myself to give full expression to my admiration of it. Some of the things he said, indeed, were so touching they were so beautiful and so noble that to criticize them even for praise would seem like impertinence. Never was Wordsworth's profound saying that ' What comes from the heart goes to the heart ' illustrated with more power, more pathos. It is impossible to read them without feeling a tremor at the heart. If such utterances as these should not succeed in making Englishmen realize what they lost in Rhodes, nothing will, I am sure. Recalling his conversations with Rhodes at the time when the great pioneer was misunderstood misunderstood most grievously but most unwittingly by men incapable of wilful injustice he gives us Rhodes 's very words. ' All this does not worry me in the least. I have my will here ' as if he had it in his pocket ' I have my will here, and when they abuse me I think of it, and I know they will read it after I am gone, and will do me justice when I am dead.' The winsome youthfulness, the almost childlike simplicity of this speech will be a revelation to many 8 The Work of Cecil Rhodes a man many an honest man whose mental image of Rhodes was that of a mere speculator and money- grubber. How I wish William Morris could have lived to hear these words. The only quarrels I ever used to have with him whom every one loved so^ dearly were concerning his angry and, as I knew, unreason- able attitude towards Rhodes. But even this anecdote of the great chief is surpassed in beauty by the following: 4 He had at one time a strong idea of posthumous fame. I remember arguing with him about it a long time ago. I used a stock argument ; I said that fame was short, and that in the case of but very few people there was no fame to speak of, and even with them it did not last very long. I pointed to the millions of universes in the firmament, in each of which there may be millions of insects like ourselves striving for the same brief and futile hour of fame. But Rhodes would have none of it. He said : " No : I don't agree with you at all. I have given my name to this great region of Rhodesia, and in two or three hundred years my name will still be there, and I shall be remembered after two or three centuries. What does it matter ? " So that with him, even then, it was only a question of degree. The last time I saw him, when the hand of death was upon him, and when sentence of death had already probably been pronounced to him, I found him in a very 9 B The Work of Cecil Rhodes different mood. He said, "Well, after all, you are right ; everything in this world is too short, life and fame and achievement, everything is too short " ; and he gave a groan as he thought of his own career and his own ambition cut short.' I quote this anecdote because, as the reader will perceive, the heart-thought of my sonnet-sequence is that, short as Rhodes's life was, he need not have mourned on account of its brevity ; his work was not only brilliant and glorious; it was in the deep sense complete. The very brevity of his life seems to add to its pathos and its romance. His motto might have been Walter Scott's quatrain : Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife ! To all the sensual \vorld proclaim, One crowded hour of glorious life Is worth an age without a name. Moreover, the passage shows again the great sim- plicity which I always felt underlay the character of a man who was considered to be so subtle and even so double-dealing. And does it not show something else, something, to be sure, that has no reference to Rhodes, but to his eloquent triend ? Does it not show that if Natura Benigna herself holds her greatest sons to be not even those who win battles and govern countries and do all sorts of other fine 10 The Work of Cecil Rhodes things, but those few who can confront man and the universe with the widest eyes, Rhodes's friend must himself be held to stand among the * Great Mother's ' elect ? Rhodes, although he was an idealist, although he had steeped his mind in the great ideas of great writers (such as Aristotle and Marcus Aurelius), was not sufficiently a thinker to grasp the words quoted above. Goethe's saying could not be said of Rhodes, that * thought widens but lames '. If it could, his career would have been entirely different but still entirely noble. As far as his own welfare was concerned it would have been better for Rhodes if man's opinion had been less to him. He was sent to Africa at sixteen in order that a life threatened by consumption should be spared. It was spared. Africa gave him health and wealth. Rhodes bartered health for the rather thin pottage of man's opinion. The moment he began to breathe English air again he rotted away. He had to return to his foster-mother. But he re- turned too late. If he had never quitted the generous climate that had restored him, he would, I quite believe, have been alive now. The eight months' lonely trek in which he saw what a glorious domain could be won for the English race would have ii The Work of Cecil Rhodes taught some men a very different kind of lesson the lesson of the triviality of some of the things that Rhodes thought so precious. It would have taught them that he who knows man's market value in the universe is the only educated man. For it is not in a motor-car, but in an ox-wagon, moving at the rate of fifteen miles a day, that one can get all that is to be got from a trek on those lonely plains those plains so dearly beloved by the southern constellations. During that long trek, I say, Rhodes had a rare opportunity of knowing Nature as she lives and breathes in her own lairs far away, lonely and holy," heedless of man, ignorant of the delights of what is called civilization, listening to nothing indeed but her own wind of the veldt, seeing nothing but her own expanse of light and shade and limitless luxury of colour. And yet Rhodes pined for man's opinion. This cost him his life: but shall we greatly pity him on that account ? This is the question I am asking in the following little poem. The Work of Cecil Rhodes . I The $u,est is the Crown w "HEN Rhodes lay dying on Pain's remorseless bed When even Death's cold wings round pillow and sheet Wafted no coolness through the stifling heat- When comrades whom, in glorious days, he led Were stealing round the room with silent tread, Watching how Pain could slay yet not de- feat, Hopeless, yet praying for Hope to come and cheat, ' So little done, so much to do ! ' he said. No runner fails who sights a noble goal And sinks uncrown'd. Did he, then, run in vain Who gave his kin that star-belov'd domain, From Kimberley to where the waters roll, With sunbow-coloured spray for aureole, Adown Victoria Falls ? Ah ! not in vain ! II Great Souls live long little done,' brave heart, ' so much to do ' ! Since first the sun and stars looked down to scan The core of Nature's phantom-pageant, Man, This was the cry of workers such as you ; Each strove and strove till, sudden, bright in view, The rich fruition of the striver's plan Shone far away beyond Life's narrowing span, Shone while the world was waving him adieu. Great souls live many an eon in Man's brief years. To him who dreads no spite of Fate or Chance, Yet loves this Earth, and Man, and starry spheres, Life's swiftness is the pulse of Life's romance ; And when the footsteps fall of Death's advance He hears the feet : he quails not, but he hears. ( ^ much to do,' brave heart, * so little O done ' ? What son of England left a work more grand ? Did that fierce trader-boy who, sword in hand, Captured the Siren Mistress of the sun Whom only in dreams great Alexander won ? While India, Rhodes, from Comorin's belt of sand To where the guardian Kashmir mountains stand, Acclaims our Clive, j'W work is but begun. 18 For see ! for hear ! how race is trampling race Where'er the white man's tempered breezes blow ! Hear England saying, ' He won a breathing space For English lungs where skies of azure glow ' Hear Freedom saying, 'He gave me a brooding place Where, 'neath the flag I love, my limbs shall grow.' IV The Burial in the Granite Caves LOWER the coffin while the sunlight shed Around this craggy platform's narrow floor Smiles on the circle of boulders, vast and hoar, Kindling their lichen-mantles, yellow and red- Lower the coffin to its rock-hewn bed Cover our wreaths with this proud flag he bore From Orange River to the steaming shore Where Tanganyika-waters gleam outspread. 2-0 Now, let our violets fall; he loved them well He loved Old England, loved her flowers, her grass, Yea, in his dreams, he smelt her woodland smell: Now, roll the slab above him; let the brass On which the simple words are graven tell Where sleeps a king whose memory shall not pass. The Spirit of Africa to Rhodes MEN ask, 'Who shaped this mausoleum here Of Nature-builded towers and bastioned piles, Stretching right on for half a hundred miles, Which symbols Rhodes, for it has no compeer ? ' It symbols you, they say, great pioneer Save where a lonely lakelet, dimpling, smiles With purple bloom of lotus-lily isles * Because 'tis stern, imperious, strong, austere.' 2.2 They ask, ' What giant shaped these aisles of granite, On what wild methods of what lawless planet, Or crazy comet's mad, enormous modes ? ' No Titan built them for a Titan race : I carved a province for your burying-place: Africa's yearning dreams foresaw you, Rhodes. N VI The Haunted zJMatoppos ATURE'S siesta deepens to a swoon. While golden-banded lizards slumber bright, Nought breaks the stillness wrapping gorge and height Save yonder bark from some amazed baboon ; Or is that sound a warning note that, soon, Your alien shade will have to meet, at night, The * Father of the Matabeles' Sprite ', Who haunts these sacred caves at rise of moon ? Is it a warning from the mighty chief Whose ghost so lately held these halls in fief That when, to-night, he walks his burial ground Each Nature-car ven rock, each monstrous shape, Will side with him, each stone-cut horse and ape, Each rocky lion and fox and demon hound ? 1 Umzilikazi, who was buried in the Matoppos and whose ghost still haunts the Matoppos, though his bones have been removed. S VII Old zsffrica and New HOULD that fierce leader come who left, they say, * A cloud of vultures and a cloud of smoke ' For trail behind him when his warriors broke Upon the meek Mashonas, made for prey Should he come here to challenge this new sway, To fight the shade of Rhodes whose master- stroke Shattered the bloody Matabele yoke, Full well we know which warrior-ghost will stay. 16" Full well we know, great captain, how will end The midnight battle of the rival shades. Full well we know that, ere the moonlight fades, Your foe (as on that day when sole you sate Amid the threatening chiefs in high debate) Will be transfigured to a spectre friend. VIII The Caf tains of the Tast BROTHER of those who, ere our England threw Her arms around the world, steered out to roam, 'Neath sails of Wonder, o'er the trackless foam, I think I see them standing there with you At azure gates within yon sky so blue, So pure, it seems like Heaven's own sapphire dome Standing and gazing on your wondrous home sleeps a hero's dust the wild ' World's View '. 28 I hear them saying, those Captains of the Past, All of Old England's hero-pedigree, From him who drove the Spaniard from the sea To him who nailed his colours to the mast * Pray God ye be not burying there the last Of England's sons who keep her strong and free!' OQOQOQOQO Notes Sonnet IV THE Bishop of Mashonaland officiated. About a thousand whites and a larger number of natives were present. The whole party accompanying Mr. Rhodes's re- mains to their last resting-place left Fuller's Hotel this morning in one long procession, which extended through the hills and gorges for a length of five miles. It included every variety of vehicle, men on horseback, men on cycles, and many on foot all determined to be present at the last ceremony. The scene at the last outspan was a most striking one. Here, a mile from the grave, every one dismounted, and the rest of the distance was covered on foot. It was, in fact, at this point that the funeral procession proper was formed, and no vehicles were allowed. Even with these excluded, the line of mourners was still a mile in length. The military forming the guard of honour marched with arms reversed, and the whole moved slowly off to the strains of the Dead March in Saut, played by a band, the weird strains re-echoing among the hills. A detachment of Volunteers brought up the rear. 33 E Note to Sonnet The place of burial is a large stone kopje so steep and rugged as to be almost inaccessible. The coffin was drawn up the heights by twelve oxen. The hills were lined with wondering natives, standing like statues, and at first holding back, but finally the Indunas, Shembli, Faku and Umgula, came down, and over z,ooo natives were present at the last rite. All seemed greatly impressed, and the words, * My father is dead/ were heard on all sides among them. The procession finally reached the place of inter- ment, and punctually at noon the Bishop of Mashona- land began the funeral service. The final scene was a most impressive one. About a thousand whites were congregated around the wind-swept hill, but the accommodation in the immediate vicinity of the grave was very limited. The grave, which is cut three feet deep into the solid rock, is encircled by six boulders, and the whole space around it is only fifteen yards long. A Union Jack lay on the coffin, which was lowered into the grave with chains, the wreath from the Queen and those from the deceased's brothers and Dr. Jameson being let down with it. Many people were in tears, and the natives were full of emotion, every one feeling that a great chief had gone. In the course of the service the Bishop, speaking Note to Sonnet in impressive tones, consecrated the grave in the following words : c I consecrate this place for ever as his grave. Here he fought, here he lived and died for the Empire, fully alive to the great mystery of death.' The Old Hundredth was afterwards sung by all present, and also the hymn, e Now the labourer's task is o'er.' Other portions of the service were chanted. At its conclusion the band again played the Dead March. At the end of all the people reverently passed round the grave in turn, quantities of flowers being thrown upon it. All the spectators wore black. The whole place around the grave was covered with wreaths. The proceedings passed off without a hitch of any kind. To-night the natives will bury their chief, fifteen oxen to be slain as sacrifices, so that as far as they are concerned Mr. Rhodes, whom they mourn as their only chief, will have been buried with the same honours as Mosilikatze. Their mourning cere- monies will last all night. Daily Chronicle , April i r, Sonnet VI SECOMBI, a notable Matabele chief, together with his Indunas, or sub-chieftains, gave a royal salute to the body. This is a unique honour for a white man from the natives. Secombi said : c Now the body of our great chief Umzilikatze and that of the great white chief both rest in the Matoppos, and their spirits will meet in a great indaba (council) in the hereafter.' Daily Mail y April n, Sonnet VII IN the history of Matabeleland, so far as it has been ascertained, the Matoppos have played an im- portant part. The pre-Matabele inhabitants of the country regarded this weird region as the abode of gods, and especially of the Ngwali or M'Limo, an invisible spirit who governed the seasons and the crops. His high priests, through whom he spoke to the people, dwelt in the caverns of the Matoppos. The Matabele inherited this belief from the Mian Makalanga, but gradually transformed the god of peace and plenty into a god of war after their own heart, and the priests readily fell in with the change. The result was that when the insurrection broke out in 1896 it was from the Matoppos that the cry for war proceeded. There the dissatisfied Indunas took refuge, and thence the M'Limo sent forth his messages urging the murder of the whites. When, after the massacres, the British reinforcements under General Carrington arrived, and the insurgents in the plains were defeated, it was in the Matoppos again that the irreconcilable impis took refuge. To dislodge them was a task of enormous difficulty. 37 Note to Sonnet A force of 1,000 men under Colonels Plumer and Baden-Powell marched through the fastnesses in all directions, but without decisive effect. Wherever they advanced they were assailed from the rocky recesses by unseen marksmen, who when pressed retired unopposed to similar positions on adjoining ridges, or fled into caverns which could be held against almost any number of troops. Nevertheless, the British persevered, and their insistence, far more than the losses they inflicted on the enemy, gradually broke down the insurgent resistance. The death of the high priest of M'Limo, who was pluckily tracked to his cave by Burnham, the American scout, and there shot dead, deprived the Matabele of their last hope. Still, however, they held out, and when the rainy season began General Carrington proposed to go into winter quarters and to await the arrival of reinforcements before resuming operations. It was then that the Matoppos became the scene of one of the most impressive dramas of British Colonial history. General Carrington's plan would have proved ruinous to the Chartered Company, for the Matabele would have secured breathing space in which to pluck up their spirits and reorganize their resistance, and the bill that the company would have been called upon to pay would have completely crippled its resources. Mr. Rhodes thereupon deter- mined to take the matter into his own hands. He conceived the bold plan of going unarmed and without 38 Note to Sonnet an escort into the rebel stronghold, and endeavouring to arrange terms of peace. On the success of this gallant scheme depended a sum of ; 5^000,000, for this was what the crushing of the rebellion would have cost. Accompanied by Dr. Hans Sauer and Mr. J. Colenbrander, and carrying nothing more than a riding switch, Mr. Rhodes cantered boldly through boulders and thick brush to one of the fastnesses in the hills where he had heard an indaba was being held. Astounded by his hardihood, the natives allowed him to pass unmolested. Eventually he reached a small amphitheatre at the foot of sheer granite walls some two hundred feet in height, the crests of which were covered with armed rebels. Here the chief In dunas with a large number of young warriors were assem- bled. Dismounting unconcernedly from his horse, Mr. Rhodes advanced towards the chiefs and greeted them in native fashion. Mr. Colenbrander then called upon the rebels to tell their troubles to c Rhodes, their father, who had come among them with peace in his heart'. Without hesitation the Indunas responded to the invitation, and volubly poured out their wrongs. Mr. Rhodes made no weak concessions, but promised a just redress of real grievances, and then demanded that the rebels should lay down their arms. This audacious stroke had its calculated effect. One of the leading Indunas seized a stick and held it above his head. This done, he threw it down at the feet of Mr. Rhodes, crying, c See ! this is my gun ; I cast it Note to Sonnet at your feet.' The remainder of the Indunas sent up a cry of assent, and the rebellion was over. As Mr. Rhodes rode home through the beetling crags of the Matoppos, he said to Dr. Sauer that the scene was e one of those that make life worth living*. Daily Graphic , April 10, 1902. THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE STAMPED BELOW AN INITIAL FINE OF 25 CENTS WILL BE ASSESSED FOR FAILURE TO RETURN THIS BOOK ON THE DATE DUE. THE PENALTY WILL INCREASE TO SO CENTS ON THE FOURTH DAY AND TO $1.OO ON THE SEVENTH DAY OVERDUE. FED 6 193i !5 193C APR 8 1941 24 I942E O.C.LJL INTER LIBRARY 1C rCEifi NO: LD 21-50m-l, UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA I/IBRARY