It may, perhaps, seem an odd statement, considering that I have lived
in various parts of South Africa for about six years, and have, perhaps,
enjoyed exceptional advantage in forming my opinions, when I say that my
chief fear in publishing the present volume, is lest my knowledge of my
subject in all its bearings should not be really equal to the task. It
is, I know, the fashion to treat South African difficulties as being
simple of solution. Thus it only took Sir Garnet Wolseley a few weeks
to understand the whole position of Zulu affairs, and to execute his
memorable settlement of that country: whilst eminent writers appear to
be able, in scampering from Durban _via_ Kimberley to Cape Town in a
post-cart, to form decided opinions upon every important question
in South Africa. The power of thus rapidly assimilating intricate
knowledge, and of seeing straight through a wall whilst ordinary
individuals are still criticising the bricks, is no doubt one of the
peculiar privileges of genius--which is, perhaps fortunately for South
Africa--rare. To the common run of mind, however, the difficulty of
forming a sound and accurate judgment on the interlacing problems that
disclose themselves to the student of the politics of South-Eastern
Africa, is exceedingly great and the work of years.

But although it is by no means perfect, I think that my knowledge of
these problems and of their imminent issues is sufficiently intimate
to justify me in making a prophecy--namely, that unless the native and
other questions of South-Eastern Africa are treated with more honest
intelligence, and on a more settled plan than it has hitherto been
thought necessary to apply to them, the British taxpayer will find that
he has _by no means_ heard the last of that country and its wars.

There is one more point to which, although it hardly comes within the
scope of this volume, I have made some allusion, and which I venture to