The covenant - James A. Michener [388]
'What did the locals say?'
'That's where it gets complicated. You've got to understand that the visiting Dutchman was talking about emigrant farmers who trekked maybe fourteen thousand of them. But you must remember there were other thousands who did not trek. They still form the majority in the colony, and they don't know whether to love or hate their brothers up north. Our Amsterdam clergyman was trying to change the trekker Boers, but they are set in their ways. It'll take more than a Holland predikant to push that lot into the nineteenth century.'
'Are their ways so old?'
Sir Richard sat with his fingers propping his chin, and hesitated about answering, because what he said next would determine the nature of his reply to Sir Peter's major question about the probable future, and he knew that Peter still carried much weight in London. Very carefully he said, 'The ways of the Boer are very old indeed. And the ways of the Englishman are very modern. Sooner or later the two must come into real conflict.'
'War?'
'I don't know. If somehow we could maintain relations with them, the chasm could be bridged. But look at what happened to Tjaart van Doorn, the man who sold me his farm. Peter, you should come to South Africa and see it. No cathedrals visible from it, but a glorious place.'
'What about Van Doorn?'
'Same age as me. Same degree of energy. Splendid fellowhe stood at my side in forty skirmishes against the Kaffirs.'
'But what about him?'
'When he emigrated from our area . . . wrote a first-class letter giving his reasons. He battled Mzilikazi, then stormed down into Natal and helped destroy Dingane. Then fled to some valley far and gone. Lives there with Kaffirs, a few families like his own. No books, no newspapers, no ideas. None of the children can read. Lost. Lost.'
'But if he's fallen back into the bush, why fear him?'
'Because the Tjaart van Doorn I knew was a powerful man. You don't have men like that in England. Carved out of solid rock. Peter, if your government insults this man, or enrages him, there could be hell to pay.'
'What do you want us to do?'
'Conciliate.'
'Bosh.'
Without discussing the matter openly, the brothers agreed that since this would probably be the last time they would ever meet, they ought to take a traditional family excursion to Stonehenge and perhaps on to Oriel College in Oxford, where Sir Richard's grandson would one day be a student, like the three grandsons of Sir Peter. They arranged their schedules, told the grooms to prepare the horses, and one morning Peter said, 'Shall we saddle up and see the Stones?'
'Capital!' And within the hour they were on their way with a small retinue of servants.
They halted at Election Elm at Old Sarum, and under its branches Sir Peter said, 'I was the last member of Parliament to come from this wonderful borough. Back in 1832 I think it was. When Sir John Russell proposed his bill outlawing the rotten boroughs, I amazed everyone by supporting it. The day for that kind of privilege had passed.' He sighed. 'But this old tree sent some sterling men to Parliament, none better than Father.' He chuckled. 'Did you hear how I got the seat?' He told how the Proprietor had brought him here, grumbling all the while, then handed him the ballot with his name inscribed. 'He said he feared I was one of those young radicals. I must have been forty, but he liked members to be in their seventies. Said that by then they had some sense.'
By the time they reached Stonehenge the two old men were tired, and they decided not to try the longer ride to Oxford. 'It was a dear place,' Sir Peter said. 'I collected all my ideas at Oriel. They weren't very good, really, but they sufficed. My son feels the same way. And your grandson will, too. How old is the boy?'
'Two.'
'Is he bright?'
'Average, like all of us.'
After Richard said this the brothers fell silent, and finally Peter, with tears in his eyes, asked, 'Did you ever hear anything