Dr. Jameson and five British officers who had led the raid were brought back to England, tried, and punished. President Kruger was superficially mollified and a select committee of the House of Commons censured Cecil Rhodes and some of his directors. On the surface, the raid, and the Kaiser's telegram, ended in polite exoneration. But the passions remained, and British people nursed their resentment and handed it on to their children, who were to settle the grievance with Germany, less amiably, in the coming century.
THERE was consolation for the troubles in Africa, and the wilfulness of the Kaiser, in the calm administration within Britain. In March, 1896, the Queen wrote to Lord Salisbury,
"Every day I feel the blessing of a strong Government in such safe and strong hands as yours. "1 Mr. Chamberlain had been very "firm and sensible "2 over the Jameson raid, and when Mr. Balfour saw his Sovereign later in the year, she wrote3 of his
"extreme fairness, impartiality, and large-mindedness. "He saw "all sides of a question" and was "wonderfully generous in his feelings towards others, and very gentle and sweet-tempered. " There was less need to watch carefully, no need for scolding notes and alarms; and if the flashes of oratory in the House were not as brilliant as in the days of Disraeli and Gladstone, there were the compensations of restraint and calm, suited to the closing years of the Queen's reign. Part of the harvest of age was bereavement. In January Prince Henry of Battenberg died at sea, on his way home from the Ashanti expedition. Princess Beatrice and her mother thus lost the "help, the bright sunshine" of their home. The stage was emptying and the little figure in the centre, nodding in the fading light, became more alone. Sir Henry Ponsonby, her secretary, died; also "good old Mrs. Symon," who kept the shop at Balmoral, where the Queen had so often called to make a purchase and gather the local gossip. Many of her servants, who had tended her through the long years, were gone. As the light grew less, the central figure nodded her head more often. The Queen's eyes were fortified with belladonna so that she could read the last of the endless stream of papers and go on guiding "the land, the nation, the world almost, with her venerable influence. "4