The Death of the Great Barnato

‘Murder!’ The cry woke fourth officer William Clifford from his sleep on the deck of the SS Scot. Seeing a man disappearing overboard, Clifford leapt after him. It was June 1897 and the Scot was in high seas south of Madeira, bound for Southampton from Cape Town. The man kept swimming powerfully away from the ship.

Clifford got within ten yards of him, but it was too late. A lifeboat fished them both out of the water. The man, floating face down, was dead. His name was Barney Barnato. He was 44 years old – and one of the richest men in South Africa.

Barney Barnato was born Barnett Isaacs on 5 July 1852 in London’s East End; the adopted name came from his music hall act with his brother Harry. In 1872 he moved to Kimberley seeking his fortune. He continued to act. He took up prize fighting. And he learned how to trade diamonds. In a series of audacious – some said illicit – moves his business interests expanded. Mining, utilities, racing, property, banking: whatever it was, Barnato wanted a piece of it. ‘Barnato never turned back in his life’, a friend recalled, ‘in the streets or anywhere else.’ By 1895 he was worth £4 million.

Was it murder? He certainly had enemies. He had just built a vast new mansion on Park Lane lined with gargoyles along the roofline. What did they represent? His creditors awaiting payment, people said. But it’s not clear whose call, if anyone’s, Clifford heard. And Barnato, drinking heavily and unable to sleep, had been increasingly paranoid for months. A few weeks before in Johannesburg he had woken a neighbour in the middle of the night. ‘They’re after me! Let me in!’ he shouted, thumping the door.

Death by drowning while temporarily insane was the coroner’s verdict. And Barnato sane would surely never have backed down. ‘If you are going to fight’, he often said, ‘always get in the first blow.’

He was quite the man for maxims. The Daily Mail published a list of them after he died. The last one drew on his days in the theatre. ‘Always end with a good curtain’, Barnato liked to say, ‘and bring it down before the public gets tired.’