for another year, adding to them a fresh set of bills for the new deficit, which transferred to the future a lump sum of debt equal to £5,350,000. Leaving this item out of account, and ignoring the cost of the South African War, he estimated the expenditure of 1879-80 at £81,153,000. The revenue, he hoped, would amount to £83,000,000, so that the estimated surplus he expected would suffice to cover the cost of the operations in Zululand. It was a dismal statement, at best. But ere the Session ended it was discovered that the real position of affairs was even worse than Sir Stafford Northcote had admitted. In August he had to inform the House that the Zulu War was costing the country £500,000 a month, and that he must get a Vote of Credit of £3,000,000. This, with an addition of £64,000 to the ordinary Estimates, raised the original estimate of expenditure to £84,217,000. Thus the estimated surplus of £1,847,000 vanished, and in its place there stood a deficit of £1,217,000 for 1879-80, which might probably be increased. The plan of evading the payment of debt, so as to render a costly policy palatable to the electors, was thus a failure. The longer the payment of the debt was deferred the more it grew, and it was clear that the finances of the country were drifting into inextricable confusion.
THE DUKE OF CONNAUGHT.
Parliament was prorogued on the 15th of August, and it had hardly risen when the predicted calamity in Afghanistan arrived. As experienced Anglo-Indians had anticipated, Sir Louis Cavagnari, the British Envoy at Cabul, was murdered, and his suite massacred (3rd September), by the fanatical soldiers of the Ameer. During the short period of his residence, Cavagnari had justified the arguments of those who averred that a European Envoy would never be able to furnish his Government with any valuable information from Cabul. The only intelligence worth having that was received by the Indian Government came from native sources, and it had consisted of warnings that Cavagnari’s life was in grave peril.[147] It was necessary to order an Army of Vengeance to enter Afghanistan, and this was done. But, in England, the verdict of public opinion was that Lord Beaconsfield’s Afghan policy had proved an irredeemable failure. It was no longer possible to dream of avoiding the costly and harassing annexation of Afghanistan, by extending over it a veiled British Protectorate, to be administered by a British Envoy at Cabul as Political Resident. There was no alternative but a military occupation, which meant that England must be ready to hold down by the sword a country as large as France, as impracticable for military movements as Switzerland, and inhabited by wild fanatical tribes as fierce, lawless, and savage as the hordes of Ghengis Khan.[148] The Army of Vengeance under Sir Frederick Roberts, after much toil and many struggles, fought its way through the Shutargardan Pass, and captured Cabul on the 12th of October. The Ameer, Yakoob Khan, was forced to abdicate, and he was deported to Peshawur, and in the meantime Roberts governed the country by sword and halter. The hillmen attacked his communications. The attitude of the Cabulees was, from the first, threatening, though General Roberts disregarded the warnings of the Persian newswriters, who told him that Afghanistan was going to rise about his ears. On the 14th of December the insurrection broke out in Cabul, and Roberts had to leave the city and fight his way round to the cantonments at Sherpore, where his supplies were stored, and where he took refuge, and was soon besieged. In fact, in the middle of December the public learnt with extreme anxiety that every British post in Afghanistan was surrounded by swarms of fierce insurgents, and that a rescuing army must be organised at Peshawur without delay. Cabul itself was in the hands of Mahomed Jan, the victorious Afghan leader. Bitterly did Englishmen recall Lord Beaconsfield’s speech a month before at the Lord Mayor’s Banquet, in which he assured his audience that the operations in Afghanistan “had been conducted with signal success,” that the North-West frontier of India had been strengthened and secured, and that British supremacy had been asserted in Central Asia. Fortunately, ere the year closed, General Gough, who had advanced from Gundamuk, was able to join hands with Roberts, who again made himself master of Cabul.
In South Africa affairs began to assume a more hopeful aspect towards the end of the year. After the victory of Ulundi the Zulu chiefs one after another submitted to the British Government. Cetewayo—who, as we have seen, had been captured on the 28th of August—was sent as a State prisoner to Cape Town, and Sir Garnet Wolseley made peace with the Zulu chiefs and people.[149] The Kaffir chief, Secocoeni, who had defied the Government before the Zulu War broke out, was attacked and subdued. He had been secretly aided by the Boers, who had warned Sir Bartle Frere that they did not accept the annexation of the Transvaal. At Pretoria Sir Garnet Wolseley, however, told the Boer leaders that the annexation which they were resisting was irreversible, and the Boers for a time confined themselves to obstructing the judicial and fiscal administration of the British Government.
The Zulu War was marked by one incident that powerfully influenced the destiny of Europe: it cost the heir of the Bonapartes his life. The young Prince Louis Napoleon—or the “Prince Imperial,” as the Bonapartists insisted on calling him—had resolved to serve with the British Army in Zululand. His object was to acquire a military reputation that might be useful to him as a Pretender. A proud and self-respecting Government, however hard pressed, cannot accept the services of a foreign mercenary, however high his rank might be. But, in deference to Courtly influences, the Prince was permitted to proceed to the seat of war in an ambiguous position. He held no commission, but he was treated like a junior officer of the General Staff, and the Duke of Cambridge requested Lord Chelmsford to let the Prince see as much of the war as he could. Lord Chelmsford issued instructions to the military authorities, which made the Prince a burden—perhaps, in some degree, a nuisance—to them. When he joined Lord Chelmsford Prince Louis seems to have been attached to the Quartermaster-General’s Department. But he was not to be allowed to go out of the camp without Lord Chelmsford’s permission, and even then he was to be guarded by an escort under an officer of experience. On the 1st of June Colonel Harrison allowed the Prince to make a reconnaissance for the purpose of choosing the site of a camp, but without obtaining Lord Chelmsford’s sanction. The Prince’s party was to consist of six troopers and six Basutos, and though no officer was sent to accompany him, Lieutenant Carey, an accomplished and intelligent soldier, happened, by an accident, to join the band. Carey had been employed to survey and map out some of the adjoining ground, and he asked leave to go with the Prince to clear up a doubtful topographical point on which he and Lord Chelmsford differed in opinion. Carey merely went for his private convenience. He was not told to look after the Prince; in fact, he was told that, if he went, he was not to interfere with him, because his Imperial Highness, eager to re-gild the tarnished Eagles of his House, desired to have all the credit of conducting the
MARRIAGE OF THE DUKE OF CONNAUGHT.