keep the remembrance of the expedition which wrecked the political life of Rhodes fresh before the public.  The mere mention of it was soon sufficient to arouse a tempest of passions, especially among the Dutch party, and by and by the history of South Africa resolved itself into the Raid and its memories.  You never heard people say, “This happened at such a time”; they merely declared, “This happened before, or after, the Raid.”  It became a landmark for the inhabitants of Cape Town and of the Transvaal, and I could almost believe that, in Kimberley at any rate, the very children in the schools were taught to date their knowledge of English history from the time of the Raid.

The enemies of Cecil Rhodes, and their number was legion, always declared that the reason why he had faced the music and braved public opinion in England lay in the fact that, for some reason or other, he was afraid of Doctor Jameson.  I have referred already to this circumstance.  Whilst refusing to admit such a possibility, yet I must own that the influence, and even the authority exercised by the Doctor on his chief, had something uncanny about it.  My own opinion has always been that Rhodes’ attitude arose principally from his conviction that Jameson was the only one who understood his constitution, the sole being capable of looking after his health.  Curious as it may seem, I am sure the Colossus had an inordinate fear of death and of illness of any kind.  He knew that his life was not a sound one, but he always rebelled against the idea that, like other mortals, he was subject to death.  I feel persuaded that one of the reasons why he chose to be buried in the Matoppo Hills was that, in selecting this lonely spot, he felt that he would not often be called upon to see the place where he would rest one day.

This dread of the unknown, so rare in people of his calibre, remained with him until the end.  It increased in acuteness as his health began to fail.  Then, more than ever, did he entertain and plan new schemes, as if to persuade himself that he had unlimited time before him in which to execute them.  His flatterers knew how to play upon his weakness, and they never failed to do so.  Perhaps this foible explains the influence which Doctor Jameson undoubtedly exercised upon the mind of Rhodes.  He believed himself to be in safety whenever Jameson was about him.  And so in a certain sense he was, because, with all his faults, the Doctor had a real affection for the man to whom he had been bound by so many ties ever since the days when at Kimberley they had worked side by side, building their fortunes and their careers.

By a curious freak of destiny, when the tide of events connected with the war had given to the Progressive English party a clear majority in the Cape Parliament, Jameson assumed its leadership as a matter of course, largely because he was the political next-of-kin to Rhodes.  The fact that at that time he lived at Groote Schuur added to his popularity, and he continued whilst there the traditional hospitality displayed during the lifetime of Rhodes.  That he ultimately became Prime Minister was not surprising; the office fell to his share as so many other good things had fallen before; and, having obtained this supreme triumph and enjoyed it for a time, he was tactful enough to retire at precisely the right moment.