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.

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

Expedition. The Prince was in command of the party,[150] and in a fit of boyish impatience, and in defiance of Carey’s advice, ordered it to march without waiting for the six Basutos, who were late of putting in an appearance. He led his little troop on for some distance, and then, without taking the most ordinary precautions against surprise, he halted—again against Carey’s counsel—for a rest in a deserted kraal surrounded by a field of

tall Indian corn. This was a fatal blunder, for the cover of the cornfield rendered the place eminently convenient for the concealment of an ambuscade. Here the Prince waited an hour, whilst the Zulus surrounded him. Then he gave his men the order to move. The Zulus sprang from their hiding-places and fired on the little band, whose startled horses were difficult to mount. It was impossible to see what was going on in the cornfield, and it was not till the troopers had retreated for some distance that Lieutenant Carey and his comrades discovered that the Prince was missing. To have made a stand in the cornfield would have been to court instant death. It appeared that the Prince had been unable to mount his horse, which was frightened and restive, and that the Zulus overtook him and stabbed him with their assegais. Thanks to Carey’s knowledge of the ground, the rest of the party, with the exception of two troopers, were saved, and Carey was able to give Colonel Wood’s force the valuable intelligence that the enemy, contrary to the general belief, were infesting the country in front.

The indignation of the French Bonapartists at the death of the Prince Imperial was without limit. The ex-Empress, who had encouraged her son to go to South Africa, was prostrated with sorrow and remorse. Even the tender sympathy of the Queen could not console her for the loss of one whose life was necessary for her ambition, and whose death shattered the last hopes of Imperialism in France. It was thought desirable that somebody should be sacrificed to appease the ex-Empress, and Lieutenant Carey was accordingly tried by Court-martial and promptly condemned for “misbehaviour in front of the enemy” while in command of a reconnoitring party. There were only two reasons for attacking Carey. He was the officer of lowest rank who had any connection with the Prince’s ill-fated reconnaissance, and he had absolutely nothing whatever to do with the command of that expedition, or with the Prince’s mismanagement of it. In fact, all that Carey could be blamed for was for saving, by his superior knowledge of the ground, four of the six troopers whom the Prince had led into a fatal ambuscade. It need hardly be said that, on review, the finding of the Court-martial was set aside by the Duke of Cambridge, and Lieutenant Carey restored to his rank. The Duke laid all the blame on Colonel Harrison, who, however, was not tried by Court-martial. But he also complained that Carey made a mistake in imagining that the Prince was in command of the party, a mistake which was not only natural but inevitable, and which was shared by all his comrades. The melancholy and stubborn imprudence of the Prince obviously led the expedition to disaster. The Duke of Cambridge argued that Colonel Harrison should have warned the Prince to be guided by Carey. Having blamed Harrison for not giving Carey sufficiently definite instructions as to the command of the expedition, he made Carey responsible for the defects in Harrison’s instructions. Carey, according to the Duke, should have provided that military skill which the Prince lacked. The truth was that Carey was warned not to meddle with the Prince, who from first to last took command, and who, when advice was tendered to him, rejected it in a manner that did not encourage a spirited and self-respecting officer to press it on him.

The family life of the Court in 1879 was brightened by a Royal wedding. On the 13th of March the marriage of the Duke of Connaught with the Princess Louise Marguerite of Prussia was celebrated with some display. The ceremony took place in St. George’s Chapel, Windsor. At noon the four processions—those of the Queen, the Princess of Wales, the bride and the bridegroom—quitted the quadrangle. The Queen drove in her own carriage, drawn by four ponies, the remainder of the Royal Family occupying the gilded State coaches, driven by the Royal coachmen in their liveries of scarlet and gold. The display of decorations and uniforms and costumes among the august guests was seen to be very brilliant as the Royal party took their places round the Communion rails, where were assembled the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishops of London, Winchester, Worcester, and the Dean of Windsor. As Mendelssohn’s march from Athalie resounded through the sacred building the Queen was observed to take her place, dressed in a complete Court dress of black satin, with a white veil and a flashing coronet of diamonds. The Princess Beatrice had discarded Court mourning, and appeared in a turquoise blue costume with a velvet train to match. The bridegroom, wearing the uniform of the Rifle Brigade, was supported by the Prince of Wales and the Duke of Edinburgh. The bride was accompanied by her father, Prince Frederick Charles of Prussia, better known as the “Red Prince,” and the German Crown Prince, who wore the uniform of the 2nd or Queen’s Cuirassiers. The German Crown Princess and the King of the Belgians were also present. The Red Prince gave his daughter away. At the close of the ceremony the Queen and Royal Family returned to the Palace amidst a salute of twenty-one guns.

On March the 25th the Queen and Princess Beatrice, attended by General Sir H. F. Ponsonby, Lady Churchill, Sir W. Jenner, and Captain Edwards, left Windsor Castle for the North of Italy. The Royal departure took place in very wintry weather, snow and sleet falling heavily. In spite of this the railway platform was crowded by visitors, who offered many loyal salutations as the train steamed out of the station at 9.40 a.m. Portsmouth was reached at noon, and the Royal party embarked on board the Victoria and Albert, the yacht sailing at once for Cherbourg, which was reached early in the evening. The Queen slept on board, and left for Paris. When she arrived in Paris she found that though crowds had collected at the station, no one was admitted to the platform except the British Ambassador, Lord Lyons. The Queen, who was dressed in deep mourning, though almost invisible to the people as she drove to the English Embassy, was, nevertheless, greeted with cheers and waving of hats all along the way. On the 27th her Majesty left Paris for Arona. Prior to starting, she was much affected by the receipt of a message announcing the death of her grandson, Prince Waldemar of Prussia. She, however, went through the appointed tasks of the day with her customary self-possession, and received President Grévy and M. Waddington, both visits being brief and formal. The Duc de Nemours also paid her a friendly visit, accompanied by Prince and Princess Czartolyski. On the 28th the Queen, preserving the strictest incognito, arrived at Modane, and after a short interval continued the journey to Turin and Baveno on Lake Maggiore, which was her final destination. On reaching the Italian frontier the Queen received a despatch from the King and Queen of Italy welcoming her Majesty upon Italian soil. The Queen sent a reply immediately, expressing her thanks in cordial terms. On March 31st Prince Amadeus, brother of the King of Italy, arrived at Baveno and had an audience of the Queen. During her stay in Italy her Majesty assumed the title of the Countess of Balmoral, and occupied the Villa Clara, which was placed at her disposal by M. Henfrey, the owner. At first the weather was bad, but in spite of that the Queen made many excursions to places of interest, and as her incognito was respected, her holiday was not burdened with the wearisome formalities of Court etiquette. Alike in France and Italy she was received with hearty good wishes by the people. Garibaldi and the Pope vied with King Humbert in welcoming her with congratulatory messages. On the 17th of April King Humbert and Queen Margherita and the members of their household left Rome for Monza, and on the 18th proceeded to the railway station to meet the train which was to bring the Queen and her suite from Baveno. Punctually at the time arranged the Queen arrived, and, on alighting from her carriage, warmly greeted the King and Queen of Italy. The party then drove to the Royal Castle, where lunch was served, after which the Queen returned to Baveno, which she left on the 23rd of April, arriving in Paris next day. Her return was clouded, as her setting out had been, by the shadow of death. On her arrival at Turin she received the painful intelligence of the death at Genoa of the Duke of Roxburghe, the husband of one of her valued friends. She left Paris on Friday, the 25th, and before her departure she gave away memorial tokens to several of the members of the Embassy. She arrived at Windsor on the 27th, where the German Empress came to spend some days with her in May. During this visit both Royal ladies became great-grandmothers, for the Queen’s first great-grandchild was born on the 12th of May. This was the first-born daughter of the Princess Charlotte of Saxe-Meiningen, the eldest daughter of the German Crown Prince and Princess.

CHAPTER XXIII.

FALL OF LORD BEACONSFIELD.

If 1880 opened cheerfully, it was solely because men felt a sense of relief at getting rid of what they called “the bad old year.” It had begun with bitter frosts, varied by black fogs. Its spring was a prolonged winter. Cold gloom marked its dog-days. There was no summer worth recording, and as for autumn, October and November saw the crops rotting in the fields. Farmers and squires, like Sheridan, were striving “to live on their debts.” Two great bank failures—that of the City of Glasgow Bank and that of the West of England Bank—had shaken the fabric of credit and reduced thousands of the well-to-do middle class to penury, while trade seemed going from bad to worse. Even science and invention appeared to be in a conspiracy to ruin people, for Edison’s contrivance of the electric lamp frightened investors in gas shares into a panic, which seriously depreciated the value of their property. Disasters in war, which are courteously called blunders, were followed by catastrophes by flood and field, which it is customary to call accidents. The ghastly tale of misfortunes was completed by the frightful hurricane that swept over the country on the last Sunday of the old year. At half-past seven of the evening of that day a furious gust swept down the Firth of Tay and cut a section out of the great railway bridge that spanned the estuary. A train crossing at the moment was blown, with the wreckage of the bridge and its precious freight of human life, into the surly waters of the Firth.[151] Very promptly did the Queen instruct Sir Henry Ponsonby to telegraph from Osborne a sympathetic message from her to the relatives of the dead.[152] Her Majesty had herself crossed the bridge on her way to Balmoral, and the shock of the disaster struck her to the heart.

It was when the people were moodily pondering over the evil fate of England under the Government that was to have given it rest and prosperity, that Lord Beaconsfield’s opponents became unusually active. Mr. Gladstone reprinted his speech on Finance which he had delivered in Edinburgh in November (1879), and reminded the electors how Lord Beaconsfield, after promising to repeal the Income Tax in 1874, had raised it; how in bad times he had increased expenditure, whereas in good times the Liberals had reduced it; how he had imposed £6,000,000 more taxes than he remitted, whereas the Liberals remitted £12,500,000 more than they imposed; how he had transformed a surplus into a deficit, and kept on rolling up debt, instead of paying off the nation’s liabilities as they were incurred. There was a stroke of high art in publishing this sombre speech when the New Year opened. Sir Stafford Northcote had, at Leeds, essayed a mild and apologetic reply to it. Mr. Gladstone thus considered it necessary, when men were beginning to suspect that they were ruled by a Government of bad luck, to answer Sir Stafford in an appendix to the November speech, which tended to deepen the prevailing depression of spirits. Sir William Harcourt, in his New Year orations at Oxford, on the other hand, dealt with the Government from a comic point of view. He touched with caustic wit on their incongruities and inconsistencies, and by contrasting their swelling words with their small deeds, their affluence of promise with their poverty of performance, contrived to create an impression that Ministers were making the country the laughing-stock of the world. When Mr. Gladstone showed that the nation was being ruined, Sir William Harcourt immediately followed up by declaring, in speeches which everybody read, because they were amusing and personal, that it was being ruined by a group of mountebanks. To him succeeded Mr. Bright, who, at a Liberal banquet at Birmingham (20th of January), elaborately explained how that which had happened was only what might have been looked for. He exhibited, from the treasure-house of his memory, an interminable series of examples to illustrate one simple thesis. It was that the history of England had ever been a tragic conflict between the Spirits of Good and Evil—the Tory Party representing the Spirit of Evil. His political Manichæism would not have influenced the country if it had not been downhearted. Inasmuch as it manifestly affected public opinion, it ought to have warned Lord Beaconsfield that the people were out of humour with him. The Tories, however, had eyes and ears for nothing, save Sir William Harcourt’s jokes and gibes, and flouts and sneers. These were not highly refined or polished, but they were just what was wanted to make the average voter laugh at Imperialism. The Imperialists being sensitive, not to say short-tempered persons, instead of pleading their own case rationally before the country, spent their force in vituperative attacks on Sir William Harcourt. It was also the misfortune of Lord Beaconsfield, that at this juncture he became nervous over the growing hostility of the clergy of all denominations to his foreign policy, the tone of which they deemed anti-Christian.

A desperate effort which was made to counteract this impression, displayed Sir Henry Layard at Constantinople—an Envoy who was supposed to be more Turkish than the Turks—figuring as a champion of the Cross against the Crescent. People, in fact, were startled at the beginning of the year to learn that the Government had suspended diplomatic relations with Turkey, because the Turkish authorities had threatened to execute a Mussulman schoolmaster for helping an Anglican missionary to translate the Bible.[153] Sir Henry Layard had been unmoved by the massacre and judicial murder of thousands of Christian subjects of the Sultan in Epirus, Macedonia, and Armenia, in defiance of Treaty law. It was, therefore, amazing that he should have suddenly burst into a convulsion of diplomatic wrath because a Turkish Court

passed on a Turkish Mussulman the sentence appointed by the law of his race and creed for an act which, when done by him, was legally a crime. Still, from the point of view of the practical statesman on the eve of a General Election, the step taken by Sir Henry Layard would not have been open to criticism merely because of its inconsistency and injustice. The fatal objection to it was that, whilst it failed to conciliate the religious world, it made the Government seem ineffably ridiculous to the electors. The foreign policy that was to give England ascendency in the councils of Europe, had reduced her to such a poor pass that, at Constantinople, Sir Henry Layard had to threaten war ere the Porte would even listen to his appeal for clemency to the obscurest of offenders against the letter of a harsh and obsolete law. Nor was the situation improved as the quarrel developed. The Turks resolutely refused even to deliver up Dr. Köller’s MSS., which they hardly had any right to keep, and it was not till the German Ambassador interfered on behalf of the English missionary that they were restored. When Sir Henry Layard pressed for the dismissal of Hafiz Pasha, he was foiled by the Sultan averring that he, and not the Minister, had ordered the arrest of Ahmed Tewfik. After Lord Beaconsfield’s Guildhall eulogies on the Sultan, Ministers were seriously embarrassed by this new turn in the affair. Ultimately the intervention of Germany and Austria induced the Sultan, who listened to the menaces of the British Government with imperturbable serenity, to offer concessions. He still refused Sir Henry Layard’s demand for the annulment of the sentence of death on Ahmed Tewfik. But he offered to commute it by exiling Ahmed to a remote Turkish island with a Christian population. He also ordered Hafiz Pasha, the Minister of Police, to apologise.[154] The commutation of Ahmed’s sentence meant that, though England had saved him from the gallows, “Kismet” had destined him for a premature grave. The apology from Hafiz was immediately converted into a further insult to the British Government, for, as soon as it had been delivered, the Sultan decorated him with the Grand Cordon of the Medjidie. Nor was this act quite atoned for by the issue of an Imperial edict forbidding the Mohammedan Press to laugh at the British Ambassador. It was, therefore, easy to predict that the Queen’s Speech would be demure, if not actually meek in tone, when it touched on Foreign Affairs.

Parliament was opened on the 5th of February, and her Majesty’s Speech was read by the Lord Chancellor. Events, according to the Royal Message, still tended to safeguard the peace of Europe on the basis of the Berlin Treaty, and the Sultan had signed a Convention for the suppression of the Slave Trade. The abdication of the Ameer rendered it impossible to recall the army of occupation. But the Government, in their dealings with Afghanistan, merely desired to strengthen their Indian frontier and preserve the independence of that State. The success of Sir Garnet Wolseley’s policy in South Africa was touched on. It was stated that the Irish authorities had been instructed to make special provisions for coping with distress in Ireland, which would necessitate an Indemnity Bill; and a Criminal Code Bill, a Bankruptcy Bill, a Lunacy Bill, and a Conveyancing Bill were promised. Mr. Cross had, at the end of the previous Session, also promised a Bill to transfer the Metropolitan Water Companies to the ratepayers of London. The debates on the Address were uninteresting. The Tories tried to discredit their opponents by proving that in election contests they angled for the Irish vote by promising to support an inquiry into the demand for Home Rule. The Liberals retorted by proving that though Lord Beaconsfield was ever ready to pass sentence of political excommunication on Home Rulers, he was equally ready to confer honours on Home Rulers,[155] that the Home Rule movement was started by Tories, and that it was a rich Tory who found the money for the Fenian candidature of O’Donovan Rossa in Tipperary.

The Irish Relief Bill was introduced on the 7th, and read a second time on the 23rd of February. It granted loans to the amount of £1,092,985 without interest for two years and a half, but bearing 1 per cent. interest after that time, to landlords and sanitary authorities for works of improvement; it also permitted the Baronial Sessions to start such works, and relaxed the law of out-door relief. Most of the Irish members complained that as a measure of relief, the Bill was inadequate. Some, like Mr. Synan, objected to the loans being taken from the Irish Church surplus. Others wished Boards of Guardians to be able to give out-door relief in money, and to take up loans for improvements. The Bill was passed on the 15th of March, and Major Nolan also passed a Seed Bill which enabled poor farmers to get seeds on loan. It is now clear that the Government had no true conception of the state of Ireland. They had been satisfied with the jaunty assurances of the Chief Secretary, Mr. Lowther, in the previous year, that there was no exceptional agrarian distress in that country. Yet, as a matter of fact, a famine was imminent, and at the beginning of 1880 the Duchess of Marlborough, wife of the Lord-Lieutenant, and Mr. E. Dwyer Gray, Lord Mayor of Dublin, were compelled to start Relief Funds to avert that dreadful calamity.

Even with this evidence before them, the Tory Ministry in 1880 fell into a blunder worthy of the Whigs in 1847-9. They adopted the fatal Whig principle, that the best way to relieve the Irish peasant’s distress was to vote the relief money to be doled out in wages by his landlord, who, by rack-renting and evictions had aggravated that distress, and who, though in most cases an absentee, was yet for some inexplicable reason supposed to be the best almoner the State could find in Ireland.[156] That this mistake was made can only be accounted for by the fact that Lord Beaconsfield’s advanced age, and his absorption in Foreign Affairs, rendered it possible for his less competent colleagues to control his policy.[157]

However, all Englishmen were predisposed to believe that Mr. Gladstone’s Land Act of 1870 had averted famine for ever from Ireland. They did not know that it had broken down because it made no provision against rack-renting, and, therefore, no real provision against unjust eviction. It permitted eviction in cases where a tenant was unable to pay rent; so that, in order to evict, a landlord had merely to put up his rent to the point at which the tenant could not pay it, the tenant’s claim for improvements on eviction being in such a case usually swallowed up in long out-standing arrears. It was quite obvious to those who looked beneath the surface that the coming question was the agrarian difficulty in Ireland. And yet the Ministry treated it as a matter of trivial importance, a blunder which, however, was also committed by the majority of Liberals, who were convinced that Mr. Gladstone’s Land Act had brought content to Ireland.

Still, the Session was quiet and business-like, and the Liberal leaders were studiously polite to Ministers. They helped to pass a Standing Order checking obstruction, hinting that it was not strong enough. By these tactics they artfully neutralised the insinuation that they were fishing for the Home Rule vote.[158] But it was clear that Parliament was moribund and quite “gravelled for lack of matter.” It could not legally survive another year; in fact, since the sixteenth century only four Parliaments had existed as long. Naturally public opinion was pressing for a dissolution, and it merely remained for Ministers to select the “psychological moment” which was most advantageous to themselves for going to the country. Lord Beaconsfield suddenly resolved in spring not to exhaust his mandate, and on the 8th of March Sir Stafford Northcote intimated that the Budget would be brought in before Easter, and that, after taking formal and necessary business, Parliament would be dissolved. Lord Beaconsfield was guided to this step by three considerations. He thought that the glamour of his Asiatic Imperialism still blinded the eyes of the nation to the disasters in Afghanistan and South Africa. He imagined that, because the returns from three bye-elections were favourable to the Tory Party, public opinion was still with him.[159] He trusted that Mr. Cross’s Water Bill would consolidate the popularity of the Ministry, not only in the Capital, but among municipal reformers all over the country. This last forecast was most untoward. When Mr. Cross produced his Water Bill on the 2nd of March, the Standard, which was the organ of the Ministry in the Press, suddenly deserted its Party and its leaders, and assailed Mr. Cross’s scheme with astounding ferocity.[160] The opposition of the Standard at the critical moment not only depressed the spirits of the Tories, but also forced the hand of the “independent” newspapers, who had up till now supported Lord Beaconsfield loyally. They could not be more royalist than the King, so they, too, poured forth their invective on Mr. Cross’s Bill. The effect of this sudden attack of the whole metropolitan Press was to paralyse a vast body of metropolitan opinion that up till then had run in favour of the Ministry. “It came into power on beer,” said a malicious Liberal one afternoon in the Tea-room of the House of Commons, “and it will float out on water.” A more cautious statesman would have postponed dissolution till a happier moment; but Lord Beaconsfield persisted in appealing to the people, and the Government passed an Electoral Bill repealing the law which prohibited candidates from paying for the carriage of voters to the poll. It was obvious that in the coming struggle the Tories were at least resolved to give the rich men on both sides all the advantages of their opulence.

When the Budget was produced Sir Stafford Northcote had a sad tale to tell. His revenue for the past year, instead of yielding £83,055,000, only yielded £80,860,000, showing a deficit of £2,195,000, to which had to be added

supplementary estimates for South Africa, bringing it up to £3,340,000. For the coming year, however, he estimated, supposing there were no changes of taxation, a revenue of £81,560,000, and an expenditure of £81,486,472. But it was no longer possible to postpone payment of past deficits. These had accumulated to a sum of £8,000,000. He proposed to pay this off by creating £6,000,000 of annuities terminable in five years, and meeting the yearly charge for them by adding £800,000 a year to the service of the National Debt. As this would relieve the Government from its existing payments for interest on Exchequer Bonds, the fresh revenue needed to meet the payments for the new annuities in reality came to £589,000, and not £800,000. As to the remaining £2,000,000 of deficits, Sir Stafford Northcote seemed to trust to luck for their payment. The additional revenue he proposed to get by a revision of the Probate Duty. As he increased the Succession Duty on personal property, and left that on land untouched, the Budget was extremely unpopular with the landless class. But even his scheme as it stood, with its £6,000,000 added for five years to the National Debt, and its £2,000,000 of postponed deficits, involved the sacrifice of his Sinking Fund for paying off the debt. Virtually the Government told the electors that they had brought Britain to such a pass, that she had to abandon for five years her scheme for paying off her National Debt, in order to clear off £6,000,000 of their deficits.

On the 24th of March Parliament was dissolved, and the new writs were made returnable on the 29th of April. Lord Beaconsfield’s Manifesto, however, had been issued in the shape of a letter to the Duke of Marlborough, Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, on the 8th of March. In this letter he called on the people to support the Ministry in order to give England an ascendency in the councils of Europe, and check the Home Rule movement in Ireland, which was “scarcely less disastrous than pestilence or famine.” This movement had been patronised, he declared, by the Liberal Party, whose “policy of decomposition” was meant to destroy the Imperial character of the realm. On the other side, the leaders traversed all Lord Beaconsfield’s insinuations. They scoffed at his Foreign Policy, asserted that it was pretentious, futile, and costly; they denounced his restless turbulence and his bankrupt finance, and, though they declared against Home Rule, they promised to give Ireland equal laws and equal rights with England. When the struggle began it was predicted in London that Lord Beaconsfield’s majority would be so vastly increased that the Liberals would be ostracised from power for a generation. As the contest proceeded it was noticed that at Liberal meetings no man could mention Mr. Gladstone’s name without being stopped by prolonged outbursts of cheering. That had happened in 1868, and it was a bad omen, whereupon it was said that the Tories would come back with only a slight reduction in their majority. Finally it was admitted, when the first day’s returns came in, that Lord Beaconsfield’s majority had vanished, and that he himself had fallen from power. The incidents of the struggle were curious. Mr. Gladstone’s campaign in the North was a marvellous achievement, and the sustained passion and energy of his attack on the policy of the Government, alike in principle and detail, seemed to paralyse the Tory leaders. Lord Hartington’s political duel with Mr. Cross in Lancashire completed the wreck of that Minister’s reputation, already damaged by his abortive Water Bill. Lord Derby’s letter to Lord Sefton (12th March) intimating his inability to support the Ministry and his adhesion to the Liberal Party, was a cruel blow, struck at the Tory Party in their most formidable stronghold. Sir William Harcourt and Mr. Lowe vied with each other in rendering Ministers ridiculous. Mr. Bright roused the conscience of the nation against their warlike policy. Mr. Chamberlain and Sir Charles Dilke stirred the latent socialistic sympathies of the masses. As for the Irish vote, it was cast solidly against the Tories, in order to avenge the passage describing Home Rule in Lord Beaconsfield’s letter. Looking back on this historic election, it is amazing to find how few Ministerial speeches of importance were made. Lulled into a false sense of security by the support of the London Press and the gossip of Pall Mall clubs, Ministers seem to have permitted their opponents to talk them down. As for the result, why dwell on it? The first day’s Borough elections destroyed Lord Beaconsfield’s majority. The Counties deserted him in the most unaccountable manner. In Scotland the Tory Party was almost obliterated.[161] In Ireland two-thirds of the Members elected were Home Rulers. The net result was, that when the Election was over, there were returned 351 Liberals, 237 Tories, and 65 Home Rulers. The verdict of the country, therefore, was this: the electors were more afraid of Lord Beaconsfield’s Foreign Policy than of Mr. Gladstone’s Irish Nationalist sympathies. The sweeping reforms which he was pledged to demand and support by his Midlothian speeches did not displease the country so much as Lord Beaconsfield’s manifest reluctance to pledge himself to a strong programme of domestic legislation.

While the elections were taking place the Queen was abroad. Little dreaming that the verdict of the people would destroy Lord Beaconsfield’s Ministry, she had arranged to visit Hesse-Darmstadt to be present at the confirmation of the daughters of the late Princess Alice, and after that ceremony to spend a brief holiday at Baden. Her Majesty returned to England on the 17th of April, and on the 28th of April Ministers resigned office. Lord Beaconsfield was not present on the occasion. He had bade farewell to the Queen on the previous day. After the results of the Election were known strenuous efforts were made to prevent Mr. Gladstone from becoming Prime Minister. The general opinion, however, was that, as Lord Beaconsfield’s fall from power was due mainly to Mr. Gladstone’s energetic and persistent criticism of his policy, Mr. Gladstone ought to take the responsibility of forming a Government. His own views on the subject can be gleaned from two letters which he wrote to Mr. Hayward. In one he seems to resent the idea of taking any office lower than that of the Premiership, supposing he took office at all.[162] In another he tries to explain away a statement he was alleged to have made to a reporter of the Gaulois, who asked him in November, 1879, if he would resume office, and to whom he replied, “No; I am now out of the question.” He (the reporter), says Mr. Gladstone, “rejoined, ‘Mais vos compatriotes vont vous forcer.’ I said, ‘C’est à eux à déterminer, mais je n’en vois aucun signe!’ I meant by these words to get out of this branch of the discussion as easily as I could. My duty is clear: it is to hold fast by Granville and Hartington, and try to promote the union and efficiency of the Party led by them.”[163]

In the ordinary course it was the duty of the Queen to send first for the actual Leader of the Opposition, who was Lord Granville. On the contrary, the first Liberal statesman summoned to Windsor was Lord Hartington, who, when he arrived there on the 22nd of April, it was remarked, declined the use of one of the Royal carriages, and strolled in a leisurely manner to the Castle. He informed her Majesty that a Liberal Ministry which was not headed by Mr. Gladstone could not command the confidence of the country. Next day the Queen sent for Lord Granville, who went to Windsor, accompanied by Lord Hartington. His advice was to entrust Mr. Gladstone with the formation of a Cabinet. They returned to London, and, after an interview with them, Mr. Gladstone proceeded to Windsor and received the Queen’s commission to organise a Government. Whenever Mr. Gladstone became Prime Minister the Whigs (who had secretly done their utmost as a Party to prevent his return to office) swarmed round him like a cloud of locusts. The Whigs and moderate Liberals were, as of old, to have all the comfortable places.

As for the Radicals, they would, it was suggested, be amply repaid for their services by a few of the minor offices under the Government, by including Mr. Bright and Mr. Forster in the Cabinet, and by offering a seat to Mr. Stansfeld, whose health prevented him from accepting it. That, however, was not the view of the Radicals. North of the Humber they constituted the bulk of the Liberal Party. Their system of representative Party organisation, invented in Birmingham and popularised by Mr. Chamberlain, had enabled them to consolidate the opposition to the Tories, to prevent double candidatures, and to win seats that, under a looser form of discipline, it would have been hopeless to contest. If Mr. Gladstone was the Napoleon,