A Breath from the Veldt 43 



an enemy whose acquaintance may be cultivated for the sake of his purse, but 

 never loved or trusted under any circumstances whatever. When, however, 

 the Dutchman of the right sort (and there are plenty of such), can be made 

 to overcome his prejudices so far as to take a liking to any foreigner, I do not 

 believe there is a truer friend than a Dutch Boer. There is also the difficulty 

 of language to be taken into account. Ibsen, the famous Norwegian dramatist, 

 when asked why he did not go to England, replied : " Of all things in the 

 world that I should like to do, the one is to go to England and study the 

 people ; but I cannot speak the language. No man can know the heart of any 

 people or understand their true feelings unless he can speak their language, 

 and take in what they say." This is quite true. A man may live all his life 

 amongst the mountains of Scotland and hear Highland pipe-music every day, 

 but he is not in the smallest degree capable of giving a judgment upon that 

 particular form of music unless he has imbibed the spirit of the hills and of 

 the men who live there ; neither can he form any conception of what that 

 music means to those who understand its language and are masters of the 

 instrument. So it is with South Africa. Go where you may, you will hear 

 the Dutchman abused for his meanness, conceit, double-dealing, cruelty, and 

 lying by those who really know nothing of him. This is a nice little catalogue 

 of offences. But the Dutchman is not half so black as he is painted. Trust 

 him fairly and honestly, live with him, and (above all) learn his language and 

 bear in mind what he may not improbably have suffered at the hands of some 

 unscrupulous Englishman ; and I venture to say you will not be disposed to 

 endorse these calumnies. 



Not that there is anything heroic about the Boer. Most of them are 

 very ordinary creatures — stupid, conceited, and lumpish to the last degree — but 

 to my mind it is simply abominable to hear a race of fine hardy pioneers and 

 farmers, as they are, abused by a lot of third-rate potmen, bar-loafers, and 

 counter-jumpers, who know as little of the real Boer as they do of the solar 

 system, and judge of them only by the class of anti- English Boers which they 

 themselves have done so much to create. I saw something of this while 

 trekking up to Mashonaland. An Englishman or Afrikander on tramp casually 

 seats himself by your fire, and after a few commonplace remarks about the 

 state of the road, the water, game, etc., he will probably abuse the natives, and 

 commiserate you on having such people as Boers for companions. For my 

 part, such sympathy was thrown away, and now more than ever do I feel how 

 little it was called for. I lived with a family of Boers for six months, and 



