particularly perverse mood, and when it pleased him to give a totally
false impression of himself and the nature of his convictions in political
and public matters.

It must not be lost sight of when judging Mr. Rhodes that he had been
living for the best part of his life among people with whom he could not
have anything in common except the desire to make money in the shortest
time possible. He was by nature a thinker, a philosopher, a reader, a man
who belonged to the best class of students, those who understand that
one's mind wants continually improving and that it is apt to rust when not
kept active. His companions in those first years which followed upon his
arrival in South Africa would certainly not have appreciated any of the
books the reading of which constituted the solace of the young man who
still preserved in his mind the traditions of Oxford. They were his
inferiors in everything: intelligence, instruction, comprehension of those
higher problems of the soul and of the mind which always interested him
even in the most troubled and anxious moments of his life. He understood
and realised that this was the fact, and this did not tend to inspire him
with esteem or even with consideration for the people with whom he was
compelled to live and work.

Men like Barney Barnato, to mention only this one name among the many,
felt a kind of awe of Cecil Rhodes. This kind of thing, going on as it did
for years, was bound to give Rhodes a wrong idea as to the faculty he had
of bringing others to share his points of view, and he became so
accustomed to be considered always right that he felt surprised and vexed
whenever blind obedience was not given. Indeed, it so excited his
displeasure that he would at once plunge into a course of conduct which he
might never have adopted but for the fact that he had heard it condemned
or criticised.