Montmartre,
with a red sash around his velveteen breeches, and the little French
nobleman from the Cercle Royal who had never before felt the sun,
except when he had played lawn tennis on the Isle de Puteaux. Each
had his bandolier and rifle; each was minding his own business, which
was the business of all - to try and save the independence of a free
people.
The presence of these foreigners, with rifle in hand, showed the
sentiment and sympathies of the countries from which they came.
These men were Europe's real ambassadors to the Republic of the
Transvaal. The hundreds of thousands of their countrymen who had
remained at home held toward the Boer the same feelings, but they
were not so strongly moved; not so strongly as to feel that they must
go abroad to fight.
These foreigners were not the exception in opinion, they were only
exceptionally adventurous, exceptionally liberty-loving. They were
not soldiers of fortune, for the soldier of fortune fights for gain.
These men receive no pay, no emolument, no reward. They were the few
who dared do what the majority of their countrymen in Europe thought.
At Jones's Hotel that night, at Ventersburg, it was as though a jury
composed of men from all of Europe and the United States had gathered
in judgment on the British nation.
