Lydenburg, when the proceedings were interrupted by the persistent
crowing of a cock in the neighbourhood of the Court. The judge was
visibly annoyed, but took no action for some time. The crowing,
however, becoming more persistent, he stopped the proceedings and
ordered the Sheriff to bring the offending bird before the Bench. This
was done, and the learned judge, with due solemnity, sentenced the bird
to death for contempt of court. The sentence was immediately carried
into effect by the Sheriff wringing the creature’s neck.
* * * * *
There was once a landdrost whose knowledge of law was very small. On
one occasion an attorney practising in his Court quoted Van der Linden.
“Who was he?” asked the landdrost.
“A great authority on Roman-Dutch Law,” was the reply.
“That law may do for his Court,” replied the landdrost solemnly, “but I
wish you to understand that I am landdrost here.”
* * * * *
Sir Christopher Brand, Speaker of the Cape Parliament, and father
of Sir John Brand, President of the Free State, was noted for his
parsimoniousness. Early one morning Sir Christopher came to the
telegraph office at Paarl Station to send a wire ordering the arrest
of a man who was subsequently hanged for an atrocious wife murder. The
clerk in charge was Mr. David MacKay Wilson, who afterwards became a
prominent official in the service of the South African Republic, and
the author of “Behind the Scenes in the Transvaal.” Mr. Wilson counted
the words and announced that the cost of the message would be four
shillings and six pence. Sir Christopher replied that he had no money
on him, but would pay later. The office regulation as to pre-payment
was inflexible, and was not to be relaxed. “I told him so,” says Mr.
Wilson, “whereupon he used his persuasive eloquence upon me to such
effect that I weakly consented to pay for the message out of my own
slender salary.” And although Mr. Wilson made several attempts to
obtain payment of the sum advanced by him, he was not successful in
doing so. Four years afterwards, Mr. Wilson was stationmaster at Durban
Road, and one day he was called upon by a gentleman to open the door
of one of the carriages. He immediately recognised Sir Christopher,
and in a spirit half-jocular, half-serious, reminded him of his debt.
Sir Christopher ignored the reminder and demanded to be released, as
it was imperative that he should see some one on the station. Mr.
Wilson replied that he would not open the door until he received his
four and sixpence. At this moment the train was moved on for shunting
purposes, and the old Knight remained gesticulating and threatening at
the window. On returning to the platform, Mr. Wilson approached the
carriage and repeated his demand, when his peppery debtor consigned
him to perdition, adding that he did not now require to get out, as it
was too late. “I never got my four and six,” says Mr. Wilson, “but I
forgive him the debt, feeling satisfied that I had got even with him.”
* * * * *
Curious to relate, a member of the Brand family was once the cause of
a catastrophe to Mr. Wilson. Sir John Brand and his suite were passing
in a special train to Cape Town on his memorable visit to England.
The regulations required that on such occasions the stationmaster
should himself hold the Lever controlling the points. Mr. Wilson had
just taken his position, when, looking in the direction of the fast
approaching train, he saw to his horror his eighteen months old child
sitting on the line playing with a piece of paper. Mr. Wilson left his
position and went to the rescue. The train passed the points safely,
and few but himself knew the horror that had been so narrowly escaped.
The traffic manager, however, who accompanied the train, noticed that
the points were unattended, and a few hours later Mr. Wilson was
formally suspended by a telegraph message. An enquiry was held, at
which Mr. Wilson pleaded guilty, and asked the chairman what he would
have done under the circumstances. “I should have done as you did,” was
the frank reply, and Mr. Wilson was acquitted and reinstated.
* * * * *
When the scheme of supplying water to Johannesburg from the farm
Wonderfontein was first mooted, the surrounding farmers protested
against the scheme, urging that if the water were diverted from the
river which runs on the farm they would suffer. It may be stated
that there is a river which disappears into the earth on that farm.
President Kruger was very desirous that the Wonderfontein scheme should
go through, and, in order to prove to the farmers that they were
mistaken in the assumption that Wonderfontein was the source whence
they derived their water supply, he ordered a sackful of corks to be
emptied into the well-like cave down which “Wonderfontein” disappears.
“If this stream does come out on your farms,” said he, “the corks must
come with it.” Of course, not a single cork was ever seen again, and
the farmers were convinced and withdrew their opposition to the scheme.
It is suggested that President Kruger well knew when he proposed the
test that at the outlet of the stream was far below its surface, the
corks would never pass through, but remain floating in the well.
* * * * *
A young Hollander was, many years ago, appointed to a landdrostship
in the country. He had no qualifications for the post, and was
unacquainted with even the most rudimentary principles of Court
procedure. Some wag pointed out to him that a great blunder had been
perpetrated by his predecessor, inasmuch as there was no box for the
prisoner in the Court, and it was pointed out to him that as the
prisoner was always referred to as the “prisoner in the box,” if
he was not in a box the conviction must fall to the ground through
informality. The legal luminary on the Bench was not going to take any
risks; he caused a gin case to be placed in the centre of the Court,
and in that all prisoners or civil defendants had to stand before the
business was proceeded with.
* * * * *
The following story illustrates how very distrustful some Boers are of
modern customs. A widow named Erasmus sold some farms to a financial
firm for £110,000 cash. It was agreed that she should receive the
money at the Pretoria branch of the National Bank. In due course
she presented herself at the Bank, bringing with her a hand-bag to
hold the money. When a cheque for the amount was handed to her, she
returned it, saying that she had not travelled all the way to Pretoria
for a piece of paper, and insisted on all the money being paid to her
in gold. As all arguments proved unavailing, the manager agreed to
let her have her own way. A bagful of sovereigns was emptied on the
counter, and the old lady began to count them. She continued to do so
for several hours, when she was informed she could not remain on the
premises as the bank doors were to be closed; but she was obdurate, and
refused to leave as she had only counted one thousand sovereigns, and
feared that she would not see the balance of her money if she waited
till the following day. At last the manager sent for Mr. T. W. Beckett,
the well-known Pretoria merchant, thinking that the latter, being well
acquainted with the farmers and their ways, would be able to convince
her of her folly. Mr. Beckett was, however, not more successful than
the manager. Mr. Beckett then offered his personal guarantee to pay her
the money next day. This she accepted, preferring it to the security of
the National Bank.
* * * * *
When Mr. B. I. Barnato was a member of the Cape Parliament, he took
part in a discussion on the Cape Liquor Law, which prohibits the sale
of liquor on Sunday, unless the customer at the same time has a bona
fide meal. In the course of his remarks he said:--“A few Sundays ago
I walked some distance from Cape Town, for, being busily engaged in
mentally reviewing the course of business of this Honourable House, I
went on much further than I had intended without noticing the time.
I at length retraced my steps, and being then both hot and thirsty,
went into a decent and most respectable hotel for refreshment. I only
wanted to quench my thirst, but, according to law, a drink could only
be supplied as the accompaniment to a bona fide substantial meal. Mine
host set before me a bottle of beer and a leg of roast pork. He had no
other eatables. What was I to do? If I ate the pork, I broke the law of
Moses, if I drank the beer without eating, I broke the law of the land.
Between the Chief Rabbi and the Chief Justice I stood in a very awkward
position.”
* * * * *
Sir Starr Jameson’s power of inspiring affection amongst those with
whom he has been brought into contact is exemplified in the following
anecdote. His biographer (Mr. G. Seymour Fort), three days after
the Raid, was buying fruit from a stall in Pretoria, and selected a
particular bunch of grapes. “No, sir,” the woman replied, “you can’t
have that; I am keeping the best I have for Dr. Jim,” and she went on
to explain that he had cured her daughter in Kimberley, and that no
sacrifice was too great for his sake.
Mr. Edmund Garrett tells a similar story of a groom who asked him for
news of Dr. Jameson. Mr. Garrett said to him: “You seem to be greatly
interested in Dr. Jameson.” “Interested!” said the groom. “Whatsoever
‘quod’ he gets, I’d gladly do half of it for him--that I would.”
“This groom,” says Mr. Garrett, “had once broken his leg in a race at
Kimberley, and the doctor had attended him in hospital. That was all.”
* * * * *
Times have changed, but there was a time when the average Boer was
unable to realise the magnitude of large figures. The representative of
a Johannesburg syndicate was negotiating for the purchase of a farm in
the Ventersdorp district. The owner asked for a preposterous sum. The
financier then suggested that the amount of the purchase price should
be as much gold as would cover a certain table in the room. To this
proposal the farmer gladly agreed, and the financier covered the table
with £12,000 in gold. This the farmer accepted, although the amount was
about a quarter of the amount originally asked for.
* * * * *
When the Dutch East India Company ruled at the Cape only the Dutch
Reformed religion was allowed. Nevertheless, a wealthy Prussian farmer,
Martin Melk--a friend of the Governor, Ryk Tulbagh--built a Lutheran
church and parsonage. Whilst the buildings were in course of erection
Melk was visited by Governor Tulbagh. “Mr. Melk,” said the Governor,
“when I pass by that church which is building I shall shut the eye
nearest it.” “Sir,” was the reply, “God Himself will close the eyes of
the man who may not look at His building.”
* * * * *
The late Mr. “Barney” Barnato was an excellent actor. On one occasion
he was playing the part of the auctioneer in “The Octoroon” in the old
Theatre Royal, Kimberley, and in the auction scene was holding the
whole attention of the house, all silent, spell-bound. The bidding for
the octoroon progressed until the 25,000 dollars call was reached, when
the impressive silence which followed this fateful bid was broken by
the eager, excited voice of a miner in the pit who could not repress
his agitation or stay to remember that he was in a theatre: “I’ll bid
26,000 dollars.” Mr. Raymond says that the man instantly slunk back,
ashamed of his enthusiasm, and the whole house roared, but the effect
of the scene was utterly spoiled.
* * * * *
On another occasion Barnato was playing Othello, and during the
jealousy scene with Iago, a well-known broker and rival amateur named
Benjamin Hart, seated in front, guyed him. The Othello coolly broke off
in his speech, and, coming to the footlights, looked significantly at
Hart, saying, “Benny Hart! Benny Hart! you just wait till I get through
with this; I’ll make you laugh on the other side of the mouth.” He then
coolly resumed his speech. Barnato had at that time the reputation of
being the best amateur boxer in Kimberley, and Hart did not wait. He
said he was in the habit of laughing on the right side of the mouth,
and wasn’t keen about trying the left.
* * * * *
The following story is an illustration of the ignorance which at one
time prevailed in England regarding South Africa. A gentleman was
preparing to start for the Cape when a friend came to him and said: “As
you are going to Cape Town, you will meet my brother and perhaps you
will kindly take him a small parcel from me.” “With pleasure; where
does he reside?” “Oh! he is at Graaff Reinet, and mind you tell him
that he’s to write and let us know how he is getting on!” Now, Graaff
Reinet is nearly five hundred miles from Cape Town. It reminds one of
the Irishman who enlisted in the 93rd Regiment because he had a brother
in the 94th, and he wished to be near him!
* * * * *
When Mr. Barnato first met Sir Henry Irving, he informed him that he
had seen him in his first performance of Matthias in “The Bells.”
“I remember I played four characters that night,” said Irving.
“No,” said Barnato, in his usual quick, impetuous manner, “you played
three.”
“Excuse me,” said Irving, “but surely you will admit that I ought to
know.”
“I don’t care whether you ought to know or not, but you played three
characters only; and I will give you, if you like, every entrance and
exit you made that night.” Barnato then proceeded to give the details
of the performance, and Irving admitted that he was right.
* * * * *
Barnato himself gained a high reputation in Kimberley as Matthias. A
very well-known South African was making a first visit to England and
his friends, wishing to show him all the sights, booked seats for the
Lyceum on a night when Irving was producing “The Bells.” “Oh, let’s
go somewhere else,” said the colonist; “I have seen Barney Barnato as
Matthias, and I do not want to see anyone else.” Barnato told this
story to Irving, and the great actor replied: “Such is fame.”
* * * * *
The military instinct is very strong amongst the Zulus. Bishop Colenso
was once telling a Zulu chief named Pakade that he was busy translating
the Lord’s Prayer into Zulu, and was laboriously endeavouring to
awaken the chief’s interest in the project when the latter impatiently
replied: “Yes! Yes! That is all very good, but how do you make
gunpowder?”
* * * * *
Mr. Barnato’s biographer, Mr. Harry Raymond, says that one evening
after dinner at a well-known club an attempt was made to engage Barnato
in a game of billiards with a good player with the intention of
extracting some money from him in bets. Nothing loath--for he was fond
of the game and played well, circumstances which were not known to the
people there--an adjournment was made to the billiard-room. There every
seat was rapidly filled up to watch the expected game, and his opponent
said: “Shall we play for a fiver, Mr. Barnato?” “Yes, I don’t mind.”
Several of those present then offered each to bet him a fiver he did
not win. He gave a quick glance round, saw the eagerness for the fivers
and a share in the spoil, and, turning to a friend who was with him,
said: “Have you got any paper, Tom? Take everything they offer; I am
going to make some money to-night. Put a fiver on for yourself--I shall
win.” To the intense chagrin and disgust of the majority present, he
did win, playing a very good game, and just running out with a little
bit in hand.
* * * * *
In the year 1825, when Mr. Nathaniel Isaacs, the famous traveller,
was in South Africa, he visited the great Zulu King Chaka. The latter
enquired about the state of the political affairs in Europe and other
parts of the world. Having been told something of the extent of the
British Dominion and the overthrow of the French Empire of Napoleon
at Waterloo, ten years before, this half-naked barbarian complacently
remarked: “Yes, I see now, there are only two great chiefs in all the
world: my brother, King George--he is King of all the Whites; and I,
Chaka--I am King of all the Blacks.”
* * * * *
In the year 1851, Sir Harry Smith, then Governor of the Cape Colony,
visited Kaffraria, the natives there being then in an unsettled
condition. There was an old chief there named Macomo, who had always
been a friend of the British. In the presence of a large assemblage
of natives, Sir Harry placed his foot on the chief’s neck, in order
to symbolise to the natives the power of the White Man. The old chief
submitted to the humiliation, but when he raised his recumbent body
from the earth, he said to the Governor: “Until now I thought you were
a man!”
* * * * *
Mr. Rhodes was not a church-goer, but strongly believed in religion as
an influence for good. He was much impressed by the good work done by
the Salvation Army. On one occasion, after a long interview with Mr.
Bramwell Booth, the son of General Booth, he said to him: “Ah! you and
the General are right; you have the best of me after all. I am trying
to make new countries; you are making new men.”
* * * * *
In 1896, whilst Dr. Jameson was in England and in failing health,
Lord Grey, then Administrator of Rhodesia, received a telegram to the
effect that Groote Schuur, Rhodes’s beautiful home in Cape Town, had
been burnt down with most of its contents. Mr. Rhodes was then in
Rhodesia; but Lord Grey, knowing how intensely Mr. Rhodes was attached
to his home, shrank from breaking the news to him. At last, however,
whilst they were out riding together, Lord Grey said gently: “Well, Mr.
Rhodes, I am very sorry, but I am afraid I must give you a rather ugly
knock.” Mr. Rhodes reined up his horse, and, turning to his companion,
he exclaimed, his face livid, white and drawn with an agony of dread:
“Good heavens! out with it, man! What has happened?” “Well,” said Lord
Grey, “I am sorry to tell you that Groote Schuur was burnt down last
night.” The tense look of anguish disappeared from Rhodes’s face. He
heaved a great sigh, and exclaimed, with an inexpressible relief: “Oh,
thank God, thank God! I thought you were going to tell me Dr. Jim was
dead. The house is burnt down--well, what does that matter? We can
always rebuild the house, but if Dr. Jim had died I should never have
got over it.”
* * * * *
Umbandine, the Swazi King, was very fond of game shooting, but growing
too stout to indulge in active exercise, he would order his Kaffirs to
drive the buck to the royal enclosure, where, from his customary seat,
he would empty his rifle amongst them. On one of these occasions the
King accidentally killed a Kaffir who had got into the line of fire,
and afterwards he fined the widow twelve oxen because her husband had
spoiled the royal sport!
* * * * *
Before the court of a certain magistrate a Dutch-speaking witness
was giving evidence. He was of the cock-sure type of witness often
to be met with in the law courts. He had made some particularly
emphatic statement, when the magistrate said: “Don’t be so dogmatic.”
The interpreter translated the remark to the witness by telling him
in Dutch: “The magistrate says you must not be so ‘hondachtig.’”
Hondachtig is Dutch for “dog-like.”
* * * * *
During the late war there was a Sister in the Pinetown military
hospital called Baker. On one occasion, as she was going to have a day
off, she left certain instruction with Sister H. about the patients
under her charge. These instructions were overheard by one of the
patients, who thereupon composed the following lines:--
SISTER’S DAY OFF.
There once was a Sister called Baker,
Of beds she’s an excellent maker;
She knows temperatures, too,
And, between me and you,
Is of medicines an excellent shaker.
She knows each man’s vice--how to treat it,
And warns Sister H. how to meet it:
“Number Two you can trust,
But show T. a crust,
Well, it’s a thousand to one he’ll eat it.”
She dilates on the treatment we need,
All our habits, our drinks, our feed:
“I repeat, Mr. T....
Doesn’t realise all, but
He cannot be trusted for greed.”
“Mr. N., however is wise,
At the sight of eggs hard boiled he sighs,
But eschew them I must,
And that beautiful crust,
For on me Sister Baker relies.”
You may ask how we know what was said.
The culprit there lying in bed,
Overheard in the dark,
The whispered remark,
And tears of hot anger he shed.
The moral is not far to seek,
A crust perforates you when weak,
While eavesdropping at night
Is really not right,
For its apt to raise anger and pique.
* * * * *
During the siege of Kimberley, a certain colonel said one night at
mess: “Gentlemen, I am sorry to say we were only able to draw half our
ration in beef to-day; this joint I am carving is beef, at the other
end of the table the joint is horse; if anyone would prefer to try
it, perhaps he will carve for himself.” No one got up, so the colonel
had to carve small helpings of beef for all the mess. After they had
finished an orderly came and whispered to him, after which the colonel
said: “Oh, gentlemen, I am sorry to find I have made a mistake; I find
this was the horse, and the cow is still at the other end of the table!”
* * * * *
Shortly after his arrival at the Diamond Fields, the late Mr. B. I.
Barnato went into partnership with Mr. Louis Cohen. They shared a hut
together, and, as both were poor, they experienced many hardships. Many
years after, when Mr. Barnato was at the height of his fame, he said to
Mr. Cohen: “Lou, I will forgive you everything we have ever differed
upon, except one.”
“What is that?”
“Why, when we slept in that hut, you used to pull our only blanket off
me every night, and I was too much afraid of you to even tell you of
it.”
* * * * *
A certain town was, during the war, placed under martial law, and
no one could do anything without getting a permit from the military
authorities. One day in December the Provost was surprised by a little
girl coming into his office and saying: “Please, sir, may I have a
permit for Santa Claus to come to our house?”
* * * * *
It is well known that during the war feeling amongst the Boer women was
even more intense than amongst the men. One Boer woman was heard to
urge her husband to go and fight, saying: “I can get another husband,
but I can’t get another Free State.”
* * * * *
During the late war, a certain “Tommy” was desirous of possessing a
bullet-riddled helmet to show to his friends at home, so he started
firing from behind a big boulder on which he placed his helmet.
Of course, the helmet at once became the target for Boer bullets.
Unfortunately, not one touched the helmet, but one bullet hit the owner
of the helmet on the shoulder. “Tommy” thereupon removed the helmet
from its exposed position, and, with a look at his injured shoulder,
remarked: “That comes of cursed pride and nothing else.”
* * * * *
A Free Stater, captured during the war, tried to impress his captor by
declaring that he was a Field Cornet. “I don’t care if you are a field
big drum,” was the reply.
* * * * *
A certain Canadian trooper who came out here during the war was not
favourably impressed with South Africa. “If I owned Satandom and South
Africa,” said he, “I would rent out South Africa and live in Satandom.”
* * * * *
Shortly after the occupation of Bloemfontein by Lord Roberts’s army,
Mr. Kipling visited the Free State capital. One morning at his hotel
a stranger came up to him and said: “Is it possible that I have the
honour to meet the author of ‘The Absent-Minded Beggar’?” “Yes,”
replied Mr. Kipling, “I have heard that piece played on a barrel-organ,
and I would shoot the man who wrote it if it would not be suicide.”
* * * * *
In one of the cavalry fights in the late war, a lancer was about to
attack an old Boer, when the latter cried out: “Moe nie! moe nie!”
(Don’t, don’t). The lancer, however, not being conversant with the
taal, replied: “I don’t want your money, I want your life.”
* * * * *
The Officer Commanding the troops at Modder River issue an order
prohibiting men from bathing in the river, and a flying sentry was
stationed there to see that the order was not disobeyed. Noticing
someone in the river, the sentry unceremoniously asked him to “clear
out,” whereupon the bather, who happened to be an officer in the
Guards, approached the bank in all his nakedness, and indignantly asked
the man: “Can’t you see I am an officer?”
* * * * *
Mr. Barnato was one of the first on the Diamond Fields to realise that
the blue ground was far richer than the yellow surface ground, although
an opinion to the contrary was held by the majority of the diggers. In
connection with this matter (says his biographer, Mr. Harry Raymond),
Mr. Barnato used to tell the following story:--