He was never word-perfect, and caused the Tadpoles and Tapers sleepless nights. In the grave little Parliament House under Table Mountain many a wistful glance passed in those days between him and certain old Bond stalwarts—wistful not on one side only. But the gulf was fixed.
After all, where he really failed in faithful dealing towards those Dutchmen was just where their own Dutch leaders failed too. It was in keeping back from public expression an essential part of his mind on the great issue between the old and the new population in the Transvaal. On the broader question, 'Under which Flag?' they had never any real excuse for misunderstanding him. Half a dozen blunt speeches, scattered throughout his career, told them plainly enough, even if his whole life-work had not done so, whether the United South Africa of his dreams was within or without the British Empire. But on this Outlander question, where the first tug-of-war was clearly coming, he did fail in the duty of speaking out to his Dutch followers while there was yet a chance of influencing them, and perhaps, through them, their kinsmen. He husbanded is influence, and the spade-work which should have prepared against the brewing storm was left undone. The storm burst and the influence was swept away in one thunderclap.
Nice moralists may blame him for what he did; I have always blamed him rather for what he left unsaid. And if so, there may be no good answer to the reproach of the Dutch rank and file, but there is a fair retort to the Dutch leaders. They, too, saw the storm brewing, knew that the old ought to make terms with the new, even, as we now know, whispered as much with growing urgency into Mr. Kruger's ear. They whispered, but they never spoke out to their own people. If not blind mouths, as Milton called certain negligent shepherds of his day, they were dumb eyes. They, too, husbanded their influence; they, too, left the political spade-work all undone. The result was spade-work of a grimmer
