interested in banking, life insurance and real-estate, and occupy
a fine building of their own on a down-town corner. One of them is
T. W. Schlessinger, formerly of New York. Eight years ago he was a
life insurance solicitor. Today he is the controlling power in five
different important companies, and we hear it said that within two or
three years he may be the leading man of Johannesburg. I. F. Atterbury,
manager of the African Realty Trust, is not only an American, but he
comes from St. Joseph, Missouri, which we can see from Potato Hill
Farm. And what still further endeared him to us is the fact that his
wife also comes from St. Joseph. Nineteen years ago Mr. Atterbury was
a real-estate agent in St. Joseph, and, as the town was dull at that
time, he was greatly interested in the prosperity reports that came in
every little while from Johannesburg, South Africa. After his arrival
here, he made money, but lost it during the business panic following
the Boer war. During a part of the war, he was acting United States
consul at Pretoria. When the war closed, he again engaged in the
real-estate business in Johannesburg, and has long been a part of the
“American influence” that undoubtedly exists here.... Soon after we
met Mr. Atterbury, we all started out in an automobile to call on his
wife. But we found her out; she had gone to call on an American friend,
Mrs. Mark Cary, in one of the suburbs. So we went out there, on the way
passing through many of the most wonderful sections of this wonderful
town. Mrs. Atterbury and Mrs. Cary had gone down-town, we found, on
arriving at the Cary home, so we sat down on the veranda and waited for
them. Both Mr. and Mrs. Cary are from California, and their home is
one of the show places of Johannesburg; because of its lavish display
of flowers, for one reason. The maid served tea on the veranda, and
the time passed pleasantly and rapidly in listening to Mr. Atterbury
talk of South Africa. He looks like a typical American, in spite of his
nineteen years’ continuous residence here.... Presently Mrs. Cary
and Mrs. Atterbury arrived from down-town, and Mrs. Atterbury said to
us:
“I haven’t lost my American accent, have I?”
And she hadn’t; nor had Mrs. Cary, which is not surprising, since she
visited her home in California last year. But poor Mrs. Atterbury has
been here nineteen years.
“Isham,” she said to her husband, with genuine American enthusiasm,
“I’m going home with them. May I?” When I took a kodak picture of the
party, Mrs. Atterbury wondered that she “didn’t break the camera,”
which no one will dispute is the genuine American language. Over here,
people use the term “You see,” a good deal, which is equivalent to
our “Don’t you know?” An Englishman says, “We can’t have the ocean in
London, you see,” while an American says, “He was the smarter man,
and had it all his own way, don’t you know?” Mr. Atterbury used the
expression “You see” a few times, but otherwise we talked only the
Kansas-Missouri-California language. At 1 P. M. we left for town, the
driver nearly running over everybody on the way.
“The only trouble with this man,” Mr. Atterbury said, “is that he runs
too fast, and I can do nothing with him.”
Was there ever a man who could control his automobile driver?... South
Africa is the paradise of the lover of flowers. At a recent flower
show in Pretoria, one hundred and seventy different varieties of roses
were exhibited. But all flowers here are almost without scent, which
is true of all countries where flowers are particularly abundant and
grown without trouble.... Grass-seed is not sown broadcast here,
but is drilled in, in rows. If well watered, it spreads and covers the
ground. The grass-seed most generally used comes from Florida, or of
a variety which originated in Florida.... The “American influence”
has been very marked in Johannesburg. Indeed, had it not been for an
American, probably the Rand (pronounced “Rond”) would be abandoned
today, instead of producing a daily profit of nearly $200,000. In 1885
the mines apparently “played out,” and it was John Hays Hammond, an
American engineer, who encouraged mine-owners to dig deep, and strike
the vein further down. The Johannesburg ore is of low grade, much
of it averaging only $4 per ton, while a little of it is worth $25.
The ore from the great Homestake mine at Lead City, South Dakota, is
worth only half as much, yet many fortunes have been taken from this
mine. The Homestake mine at Lead City is the real source of the Hearst
magazines and newspapers.... A good many years ago, three thousand
American mining engineers were employed along the Rand, and a few of
the best ones received from fifty to seventy-five thousand dollars a
year, but now the number employed does not exceed four hundred. I have
heard it hinted that as soon as the Americans taught the English how
to mine and extract the gold from the Rand ores, there were bickerings
over salaries, and the Americans went elsewhere. The American mining
engineers are highly regarded for many reasons, but especially because
of their quickness and cleverness in meeting difficulties. I have also
heard it hinted that the existence of the Kimberley diamond mines
is due to an American. Johannesburg is more like an American town
than any other we have seen. This is another result of the “American
influence;” the business methods here are snappy, after the American
fashion.... Mr. Atterbury says that the raw native, taken from the
farm and trained, makes a very efficient and faithful servant, but that
the missionary negro is no account. Mr. Atterbury says that a bishop of
the Methodist Church who had done much work in Africa, once said to him:
“I don’t know that I have ever actually converted a native to a better
life. The natives so easily forget my teaching that I am sometimes
troubled with the fear that all my work has been in vain.”
Wherever I go, I hear grave doubts expressed as to the missionary
experiment.... Most of the Americans I meet here were originally in
sympathy with the English, so far as the Boer war was concerned, but
ended by being in sympathy with the Boers.... There is a man here
named Sir Abe Bailey. It seems to me that a man with a title should
not be called “Abe,” but “Sir Cecil,” or “Sir Chauncey,” or something
else equally euphonious.... Natives are publicly whipped here,
when they do not behave. And when a native is killed in the mines or
elsewhere, the papers do not print his name; they refer to him simply
as a “native.”... This evening we dined with Mr. and Mrs. Atterbury
and their young gentleman son, Manfred, at the Grand National Hotel,
where they live. Manfred Atterbury was born in Maysville, Missouri,
but came here as a baby, and has never been back to the country
of his birth. He is exactly like an American boy, except that he
occasionally uses the expression, “You see,” which is used so much
over here that I am contracting the habit myself. He has attended
English and Boer schools, and, like the Texas congressman, doesn’t know
where he is at. His mother, who took charge of her son’s education,
as good mothers do, tells some amusing stories about it. One day the
boy was sent to the foot of his class for pronouncing “Chicago” as
it is pronounced everywhere in the United States. The teacher said
the correct pronunciation was “Chic-a-go.” The young man also got
in trouble because he pronounced “Ohio” as he had heard his father
and mother pronounce it: the teacher said the correct pronunciation
is “O-e-o.” The teacher was an Oxford man, and the English school
books in use named only four American seaports—none at all on the
Pacific. The history in use devoted only seven lines to the American
Revolution, treating it as a trifling affair in which the English
_gave_ the Americans their independence.... (When Americans abuse
the English, it is customary for them to say, “Of course the English
are, in many respects, a great people.” Mr. Atterbury said it at this
stage of the conversation.)... Probably you know that in England and
its colonies, the song, “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow,” is sung very
frequently, particularly at banquets and other places where grog is
passed around. Mrs. Atterbury says that once an equal suffrage meeting
was held in the banqueting-room of the Grand National. Only women
attended, and they frequently sang, “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.” An
equal suffrage meeting was being held in the banqueting-room of the
Grand National the night I was there, but, greatly to our surprise, no
windows were smashed. Several stout ladies appeared who, I thought,
certainly had rocks under their aprons, but the meeting was quiet, and
the noticeable protuberances turned out to be the middle-age spread
instead of rocks.... The American party finally broke up at 10:20
P. M., with a statement from Mrs. Atterbury that an English paper here
lately referred to an incident as happening in America in “the state of
Cincinnati.”... We handled the English rather roughly, but I venture
to say they get even; indeed, taking one roast with another, no doubt
they are far ahead of us. I intend to have an American party at my
hotel on Friday evening, and Mark Cary will have another on Saturday,
when we will again attempt to catch up with the English. When the
English roast us, I hope they are as fair as we are, and frequently say:
“Of course, in some respects the Americans are a remarkable people. No
one will care to deny that.”
THURSDAY, MARCH 13.—This morning Mr. Atterbury found it necessary to
go twenty miles into the country, to look at a farm, and took us with
him. R. A. Davis, government horticulturist for South Africa, also
accepted an invitation to go. Mr. Davis was born in England, but spent
several years in California; he says he learned all he knows about
horticulture in California, as that state is undoubtedly headquarters
for horticultural information. In his way, he is as noted an expert
as our F. D. Coburn, and it was a privilege to spend several hours
in the country with him. Here is a South-African apple story I had
direct from Mr. Davis. His son has an apple orchard of three acres,
containing three hundred trees ten years old. Last year the younger Mr.
Davis sold his apples for ten thousand dollars, or more than $3,000
an acre. These figures are gross; the cost of picking and marketing
the fruit was fifteen per cent. We had two punctures during the ride,
and Mr. Davis told me another big South-African story while the driver
made repairs. The most prosperous farming country in the world is the
ostrich district in Cape Colony; instead of owning one automobile, as
do our successful corn and wheat farmers, the ostrich farmers own two
and three automobiles each. The best ostrich country is known as the
Oudtshoorn district, and is probably 70×60 miles in extent. Mr. Davis
told of one irrigated farm of four hundred acres and 1,800 birds for
which an offer of $560,000 was lately refused. The ostrich farmers are
nearly all Boers, although many Jews live in the district to trade in
the feathers. It is said that more than one hundred of the farmers in
the bird district are worth more than $250,000 each. Alfalfa is grown
extensively. One acre of alfalfa will graze five ostriches, and the
average ostrich will annually produce feathers worth $25. Ostriches are
raised in California and elsewhere, but conditions for ostrich farming
are nearest perfection in South Africa. A good many ostriches run wild
in Africa, but feathers from the wild birds are not good. Ostrich eggs
or living birds cannot be taken out of South Africa, and some growers
have fancy strains of birds that are worth from $2,000 to $2,500 per
pair. One South-African ostrich king has devoted so much time to
ostriches, and lived among them so long, that both Mr. Davis and Mr.
Atterbury agreed that he had grown to look like an ostrich.... Mr.
Davis says South Africa is a better fruit country than California,
and that it will produce better oranges with less effort.... The
two punctures caused us to be late, and Mr. Atterbury’s automobile
driver, whom he called Bristow, fairly flew over the ground. I sat on
the back seat with Mr. Atterbury and Mr. Davis, while Adelaide rode
in front with the driver. Mr. Atterbury frequently tapped Bristow on
the back with his cane, and said: “Too fast!” and Bristow slowed up
for a time, but in a few minutes would be running faster than ever.
The South-African roads are naturally good, as they are in western
Kansas. Our road lay along the railway, and every mile or two there was
a stone block-house, erected by the English during the Boer war, for
the protection of the railroad. This line of block-houses extends from
Capetown to a point four hundred miles beyond Johannesburg, a distance
of something like fourteen hundred miles. The Boer war almost ruined
South Africa, and resulted in the death of 25,000 English soldiers,
and probably 4,000 Boer soldiers. In the concentration camps of the
English, it is said 22,000 Boer women and children died, because of
conditions which resembled the conditions under Weyler in Cuba. England
spent millions and almost billions in the war; yet it was brought on by
a handful of alien Jews. War is the most wicked, senseless thing men
engage in.... No one disputes that the Boers were terrible fighters.
Mr. Davis recalled a limerick composed by an English soldier during the
war. It ran in this way: “There was an old Boer who hid in a trench
with a bullet-proof lid. And when the English came nigh, he said with
a sigh, ‘I can bag the whole lot’—and he did.”... South Africa does
not encourage immigration. The Boers are in control, and they do not
want new-comers, since they know that the immigrants must come mainly
from England, and that every immigrant means another vote against
them.... Mr. Davis told me that New Zealanders are much more
popular in England than Australians; the Australians have entirely too
much admiration for the United States to suit England.... The flower
we call cosmos grows wild here; we saw many acres in full bloom....
Wherever we have been in South Africa, evidences of prosperity are
abundant. The country is growing rapidly, and every man who can afford
it is buying a piece of land with a view of putting out an orchard.
Almost in sight of Johannesburg, good fruit land may be bought for $25
an acre. I make this statement on the authority of Mr. Atterbury, a
practical real-estate man.... Possibly you think of the Boer farmers
of South Africa as hard-working men. As a matter of fact, they are all
gentlemen farmers; they do not go into the fields, and do hard manual
labor, as do our farmers—no one works here except the negroes. Mr.
Atterbury often goes into the country to look at land, and says he
usually finds the Boer farmers sitting around the house, talking with
the neighbors. Occasionally they go out into their fields, to see that
the negroes are working properly, but they are above manual labor.
During the morning, we met a good many Boer farmers with ox teams of
from three to a dozen span; but the farmers always rode in the wagons,
while their negroes walked and drove. In working ox teams here, a negro
boy always walks ahead, and leads the head span, while two negro men
walk behind, and use whips.... We returned to Johannesburg at 2 P.
M., undecided whether to call the driver “Bristow, the Aviator,” or
“Flying Bristow.”
FRIDAY, MARCH 14.—Yesterday evening, in company with Mr. and Mrs.
Atterbury, we left Johannesburg for Pretoria, capital of the Transvaal
and of the South-African United States. The distance is thirty-eight
miles, and the road good. Flying Bristow made the trip in an hour and
three minutes. Thirty-eight miles an hour in an automobile does not
sound very fast, but ride it over country roads in South Africa, and
you will agree that it is a terrific pace. I never before traveled
at such a speed in an automobile. There are many hills on the way to
Pretoria, and Flying Bristow crept up these, as the Atterbury machine
is not a good hill-climber. It is a Talbott, made in England, and
during the past two years has traveled 40,000 miles in attending to the
affairs of the African Realty Trust, of which Mr. Atterbury is general
manager. On a level, and down the hills, I have no doubt we traveled
fifty miles an hour yesterday afternoon. Mrs. Atterbury rode in front,
but had no more influence with Bristow than has her husband. When we
stepped out of the machine at Pretoria, I remarked to Mr. and Mrs.
Atterbury that we had just had a very speedy ride, whereupon Flying
Bristow smilingly said that Mr. Schlessinger, his other employer,
would consider our pace a slow one. So Mr. Schlessinger seems to be
responsible for Flying Bristow. And if Mr. Schlessinger doesn’t look
out, he won’t live to see his five institutions take a high place in
South-African finance, for Bristow undoubtedly drives too fast. He has
never had an accident, but one is coming to him, and I sincerely hope
that when it arrives, neither Mr. Atterbury nor Mr. Schlessinger will
be in the machine.... Mr. and Mrs. Atterbury spent a good many
months in Pretoria during the Boer war; part of the time Mr. Atterbury
was American consul. On one occasion the English shelled the Boer
forts nearly all day, and every shell passed over the Atterbury home;
one exploding shell broke a window in the American consulate. Mr. and
Mrs. Atterbury say that a shell, in passing high above you, shrieks
and screams like a living thing in distress. They know Pretoria as
well as you know the town in which you live, so that we had excellent
guides in our visit to the capital.... I had a room on the second
floor of the Grand Hotel, facing the old Boer capital just across the
street. During the war, President Krueger (Oom Paul) and members of
the war board met daily in a room just opposite my room; people used
to sit on the hotel veranda and watch the war board in session. We
visited the modest home of President Krueger this morning, and the
care-taker showed us over the one-story house. In one of the nine rooms
is displayed three hundred bouquets of immortelles sent to Oom Paul’s
funeral. A few of the bouquets were made of solid silver, and a few
of beads; in addition to these, many of which were sent by kings and
princes, three hundred bouquets of perishable flowers were sent. Oom
Paul (Uncle Paul) died in Switzerland, having been compelled to leave
his country during the war, but his body is buried in Pretoria. Mrs.
Krueger died in the house we visited. She was a plain old woman, the
wife of a farmer, and refused to go to Holland or Switzerland when it
seemed impossible to prevent Pretoria falling into the hands of the
British. Not only Lord Roberts, but Lord Kitchener, were compelled to
come to South Africa and take personal charge of the campaign against
the Boers. Mr. and Mrs. Atterbury saw Lord Roberts ride into Pretoria
at the head of his troops. Across the street from Oom Paul’s residence
is the church where he often preached, for he hated the devil almost as
much as he hated the English.... The Boers were wonderful soldiers,
and, being in their own country, they had a great advantage over the
English. When they captured English prisoners, they didn’t know what
to do with them, so turned them loose. It is related that General
DeWett captured a certain English regiment three times, and this fact
caused that particular regiment to be known as “DeWett’s Own.”...
Pretoria has 65,000 people, and is a beautiful city. A new capitol
building is approaching completion, at a cost, everything counted, of
nearly ten million dollars. It is an enormous and beautiful structure
of marble and granite, situated on a hill overlooking the city. The
erection of this building is bitterly resented by the English as a
useless waste of money, but the Boers are in control of the government,
and for sentimental reasons insist upon this enormous structure at
Pretoria, Oom Paul’s late capital. An Englishman told me lately that
the Pretoria capitol will cost two-thirds as much as Westminster,
the seat of the English parliament.... I speak of Pretoria as the
capital of the United States of South Africa. As a matter of fact,
it is only the administrative capital, as the South-African congress
meets at Capetown, while the South-African supreme court sits at
Bloemfontein. The capital is thus divided between three cities. Our
Washington is the capital of one hundred million people, whereas
there are only eight million in all South Africa: one million whites,
and seven million colored. The United States has nearly twice as many
negroes as South Africa.... I am told that the average negro here
does not pay much attention to liberty and the pursuit of happiness;
he takes whatever is offered him and says nothing, but the negroes of
the Basuto tribe are disposed to criticise English methods. The Basutos
are well armed, and it is said could put an army of twenty thousand
horsemen in the field on a few days’ notice. It is the Basutos who are
expected to finally make the English trouble, and, when they begin,
they may have the assistance of many other negroes, and the sympathy
of the Boers.... When the Boers of the Transvaal and the Orange
Free State fought the English, it is well known that they expected the
assistance of the Cape Colony Dutch; but the Cape Colony Dutch, who
are very numerous and very rich, got cold feet, and failed to show
up at the first battle. But for the promise of the Cape Colony Dutch
to join, there would have been no Boer war; and had they joined, the
war would still be going on.... On our way to Pretoria, we passed
a big camp of English soldiers. All English soldiers will shortly be
removed from South Africa, the country being so peaceful that they are
no longer needed. We also passed over one of the battlefields of the
Boer war, which is now a peaceful pasture devoted to cattle.... A
son of Wm. E. Gladstone is governor-general of South Africa, and lives
in Pretoria.... Pretoria has the finest zoölogical garden in South
Africa. It was established by the Boers, and has since been fostered
and improved by the English. It contains a rhinoceros, and the animal
is so tame that the children feed it. But how viciously these animals
charged Colonel Roosevelt in his articles in Scribner’s Magazine!...
The zoo is not only interesting because of its rare animals, but is
located in one of the handsomest flower gardens I have ever seen. Next
door is a museum containing many South-African curios.... At 2:30 in
the afternoon we left Pretoria in a drizzling rain, which continued all
the way to Johannesburg. Owing to slippery roads and no chains, Flying
Bristow did not reach Johannesburg until about 4 o’clock.
SATURDAY, MARCH 15.—This evening we were guests at the home of Mr. and
Mrs. Mark Cary, both formerly of California. They employ four native
servants, all Zulus. Seven years ago, they were in Durban for some
time, and a Zulu boy named Abel became attached to Mr. Cary. Soon after
their return to Johannesburg, there was a knock at their kitchen door.
Mr. Cary opened the door, and there stood Abel.
“Your Durban boy has come to work for you,” Abel said.