THE
FIRST AFGHAN WAR.
BY
MOWBRAY MORRIS.
London:
SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE, & RIVINGTON,
CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET.
1878.
[_All rights reserved._]
PREFACE.
The following pages pretend to give nothing more than a short summary
of events already recorded by recognised authorities.
THE FIRST AFGHAN WAR.
It was in the year 1808, when the power of Napoleon was at its height,
that diplomatic relations were first opened between the Courts of
Calcutta and Cabul. Napoleon, when in Egypt, had meditated on the
chances of striking a fatal blow at England through her Indian
dependencies; some correspondence had actually passed between him and
Tippoo Saib on the subject, and subsequently, in 1801, he had concluded
a treaty with the Russian Emperor Paul for an invasion of India by
a force of 70,000 men, to be composed of equal parts of French and
Russian troops. The proposed line of march was to lie through Astrakhan
and Afghanistan to the Indus, and was to be heralded by Zemaun Shah,
who then ruled at Cabul, at the head of 100,000 Afghans. There was but
little danger indeed to be apprehended from Afghanistan alone, but
Afghanistan with Russia and France in the background was capable of
proving a very troublesome enemy. In such circumstances the attitude
of Persia was of the last importance, and Marquess Wellesley, then
Viceroy of India, at once proceeded to convert a possible enemy into
a certain and valuable ally. A young officer who had distinguished
himself under Harris at Seringapatam was selected for this delicate
service. How the young captain, whom Englishmen remember as Sir John
Malcolm, fulfilled his mission is matter of history. A thorough master
of all Oriental languages, and as skilful in council as he was brave in
the field, Malcolm soon pledged the Court of Persia to the interests
of England, and not only was it agreed that the two contracting
parties should unite to expel any French force that might seek to gain
a footing on any of the islands or shores of Persia, but the latter
Government bound itself to "slay and disgrace" any Frenchman found
in the country. This treaty, which may be thought to have somewhat
dangerously stretched the bounds of diplomatic hostility, was, however,
never formally ratified, and internal dissensions, culminating in the
deposition of Zemaun Shah by his brother Mahmoud, removed all danger
from our frontier for a time.
But the idea still lived in Napoleon's restless heart. The original
treaty with Paul was discussed with his successor Alexander, and in
1808 a French mission, with the avowed design of organizing the
proposed invasion, was despatched, not to Cabul, but to Teheran. The
magic of Napoleon's name was stronger even than British eloquence and
British gold, and Malcolm, once all-powerful in Iran, when he sought
to renew the former pledges of amity, was turned back with insult from
the Persian capital. A second mission, however, despatched direct from
London under the guidance of Sir Harford Jones, was more fortunate.
Napoleon had been defeated in Spain, and the news of his defeat had
spread. Russia was something less eager for the French alliance than
she had been in 1801, while between the Muscovites and the Persians
there had long existed a hereditary feud, which the proposed league
had by no means served to extinguish. The English envoy, skilfully
piecing together these broken threads to his own ends, was enabled with
little loss of time to conclude an offensive and defensive alliance
between Great Britain and Persia, the earliest result of which was the
immediate dismissal of the French mission. By this treaty the Persian
King bound himself not to permit the passage through his dominions
of any force hostile to India, and, in the event of war arising
between England and Afghanistan, to invade the latter at the cost of
the former; furthermore, he declared null all treaties previously
concluded by him with any other European power. The English, in their
turn, pledged themselves to assist him, should his kingdom be invaded,
either with men or money and arms, but should the war be one only with
Afghanistan, they were not to interfere unless their interference was
sought by both parties. Though this treaty was concluded in 1808-9, it
was not formally ratified till November 15, 1814.
Not on Persia alone, however, was the English Government content to
rely. In a friendly Afghanistan was a second most serviceable string
which it had been the height of imprudence to let another fit to his
bow. The two countries stood in almost precisely similar relations
to English India; each as an enemy contemptible single-handed, but a
dangerous item in an invading force; each a useful ally, and each a
salutary check upon the other. At the same time, then, as Sir Harford
Jones was neutralizing the French influence at Teheran, the Honourable
Mountstuart Elphinstone was despatched by Lord Minto, who had succeeded
Lord Wellesley at Calcutta, to the Court of Cabul.
Previous to the year 1808 Afghanistan was practically a _terra
incognita_ to Englishmen. Zemaun Shah, the once terrible Ameer whose
threatened invasion had disturbed even the strong mind of Lord
Wellesley, was, indeed, in their hands, living, dethroned and blinded,
a pensioner on their bounty at Loodhianah, but of the country he had
once ruled over and of the subjects who had driven him into exile but
little was known in Calcutta and still less in London. Before the close
of the eighteenth century but one Englishman had ever penetrated into
that unknown land. Forster, a member of the Bengal Civil Service, in
1783-84 had crossed the Punjab to Cashmere, and thence had descended
through the great Khyber and Koord-Cabul passes to the Afghan
stronghold, whence journeying on by Ghuznee, Candahar, and Herat he
had won his way to the borders of the Caspian Sea. His book was not
published till some fifteen years after, and shows chiefly, to use
Kaye's words, "how much during the last seventy years the Afghan Empire
and how little the Afghan character is changed." But the labour and
intelligence of one man, however much they may profit himself, have
rarely by themselves added much to the knowledge of a nation. Many
well-read Englishmen could still own to little more than a vague idea
of Afghanistan; that it was a bare and rocky country, which the heat of
summer and the cold of winter alike rendered impervious to travellers,
happily shut out from more civilised regions by a mighty barrier
of mountains, topped with eternal snow, through which, by passes
inaccessible to all save the mountaineers themselves, hordes of savage
warriors had in earlier days poured down in irresistible flood on the
fertile valleys of the Indus. Elphinstone let in more light on the
gloomy and mysterious scene. Though with his own eyes he saw but little
of the country and the people, as his journey was stayed at Peshawur,
he acquired from various sources a vast amount of information, which
he reproduced with extraordinary distinctness. His book rapidly became
the acknowledged text-book of the history and geography of the country,
and may still be read with pleasure and studied with profit. It would
have been well if one of the lessons he taught had been better laid
to heart; and thirty years later his unfortunate namesake must have
recalled with peculiar bitterness all he had once read of the ingrained
treachery of the Afghan character. The mission was in itself entirely
successful, though the rapid march of events soon neutralised, and
eventually wholly destroyed its work. Shah Soojah, a name to be before
many years but too familiar to English ears, received the envoys at
Peshawur, then one of the chief cities of his kingdom. He appeared
to them in royal state, seated on a golden throne, and blazing with
jewels, chief among which shone forth in a gorgeous bracelet the
mighty Koh-i-noor. Nor were the English outdone in magnificence. The
entire mission was on a scale of profuse splendour, and the presents
they brought with them so numerous and so costly that when, thirty
years later, Burnes arrived in Cabul the courtiers turned in disgust
from what Kaye contemptuously calls "his pins and needles, and little
articles of hardware, such as would have disgraced the wallet of a
pedlar of low repute." The envoys were most hospitably received, and
Elphinstone formed a very favourable opinion of the character of
Soojah, whom he described as both affable and dignified and bearing
the "manners of a gentleman." He listened attentively to the envoys'
proposals, and declared that "England and Cabul were designed by the
Creator to be united by bonds of everlasting friendship," but at
the same time he confessed his country to be in such an unsettled
condition, and his own throne so insecure, that, for the present,
the best advice he could give the English gentlemen was that they
should retire beyond the frontier. On June 14th, 1809, therefore, the
mission set out on its homeward journey, having, however, arranged a
treaty, which was shortly after formally ratified by Lord Minto at
Calcutta, by which Soojah bound himself to treat the French, if allied
with the Persians, much as the Persian monarch had pledged himself to
behave to them if allied with the Afghans. But even at the very time
of ratification this treaty had been practically rendered null by
the success of Sir Harford Jones's mission to Teheran, and within a
year Soojah had been deposed by his brother Mahmoud, from whom he had
himself wrested the crown, and was a captive in the hands of Runjeet
Singh.
The final overthrow of Napoleon in 1815 removed all fears of a French
advance on India, but in its stead arose the still more imminent shadow
of Russia. For many years past that shadow had been looming larger
and larger to the eyes of the kings of Teheran, till the annexation
of Georgia brought the eagles of the Czar over the Caucasus up to the
very frontier of their northern provinces. The English alliance, and an
army drilled under the supervision of English officers, had, however,
turned the head of the Persian king, and his heir, Abbas Mirza, at the
head of 40,000 troops, of whom half were drilled and equipped after
the English fashion, dared, in 1826, to throw down the gauntlet to the
Czar. He paid dearly for his daring. English drill and English arms
availed him little without English officers. His son, Mahomed Mirza,
was utterly routed with the division under his command, and soon after
he himself was defeated in open battle by the Russian Paskewitch with a
loss of 1200 men. The English help, promised by the treaty of 1814 in
the event of Persia becoming involved in war with any European power,
was not forthcoming. Mediation took the place of armed men, and with
the help of Great Britain a peace was concluded in 1828 between the two
powers, humiliating to Persia, and ultimately disastrous to England.
By this treaty Persia lost the Khanates of Erivan and Nakhichevan, and
practically her whole defensive frontier to the north. In Sir Harford
Jones's words, "Persia was delivered, bound hand and foot, to the Court
of St. Petersburg." The territory acquired by Russia was nearly equal
in extent to the whole of England, and her outposts were brought within
a few days' march of the Persian capital. From that time, up to Lord
Auckland's arrival at Calcutta in 1836, Persia was little more than
a minion of the Czar, used by him to cover the steady advance of his
battalions eastward. The death of Futteh Ali Shah, at Ispahan in 1834,
snapped the last link that bound Persia to our interests. Futteh Ali,
as far as lay in his power, had ever striven to remain faithful to his
English allies, and to resist, as far as he dared, Russian intrigue
and Russian influence within his kingdom. But his son and grandson had
welcomed the Muscovite alliance with open arms, and when the latter
ascended the throne on his grandfather's death, it was evident that the
Czar would be paramount at the Persian Court. Mahomed Mirza Shah, the
new king, had long dreamed of the conquest of Herat and the extension
of his eastern frontier, and had more than once, in his grandfather's
lifetime, striven to turn his dreams to facts. Nothing could have
been more favourable to the Russian plans, and no sooner was Mahomed
secure upon the throne than he was urged to the immediate execution of
his long-cherished designs. Such was the state of affairs when Lord
Auckland was despatched by Lord Melbourne in 1836 to take the reins of
Indian Government from the hands of Sir Charles Metcalfe.
Meanwhile many changes had taken place at Cabul. The weak and dissolute
Mahmoud, the deposer of Soojah, proved no more than a puppet in the
hands of his Vizier, Futteh Khan, the head of the great Barukzye tribe.
The youngest of the twenty brothers of this able and powerful chief
was the celebrated Dost Mahomed. Born of a woman of an inferior tribe,
he had entered life as a sweeper of the sacred tomb of Lamech. From
thence he was promoted to hold a menial office about the person of his
great brother, into whose favour he at length rose by the murder, when
only a boy of fourteen, of one of the Vizier's enemies. From that time
his rise was steady, and as he rose so did he discard the follies and
excesses of his youth, displaying a daring and heroic spirit, great
military address, and a power of self-discipline and self-control
unparalleled among the chiefs of Central Asia. To his hands was
entrusted the execution of the Vizier's project for establishing the
Barukzyes in Herat, then held by a brother of the reigning king. The
design was completely successful for the moment, owing to the daring
and also to the treachery of Dost Mahomed, but the blow recoiled
with fearful force on the person of the Vizier. Returning from his
raid against the Persians, which had been the ostensible pretext for
his march to Herat, Futteh Khan was seized by Prince Kamran, son of
Mahmoud; his eyes were put out, and persisting in his refusal to give
up his brother to the Prince's vengeance, he was hacked to pieces
before the whole court. This brutal act finally overthrew the long
tottering dynasty of the Suddozyes, who had been kings in Cabul since
Ahmed Shah founded the Afghan Empire in 1747. Dost Mahomed's vengeance
was sudden and no less brutal. But it is impossible in this limited
space to enter into all the details of his rise to the chief seat of
power. It must suffice to say that when Lord Auckland entered on his
government Dost Mahomed was firmly seated on the throne of Cabul, and
the whole of the country in the hands of the Barukzye Sirdars, with the
exception of Herat, where Kamran still reigned, the last remnant, save
the exiled Soojah, of the legitimate line.
Shortly after Lord Auckland's arrival at Calcutta Dost Mahomed
addressed to him a letter of congratulation on his assumption of
office. Adverting to his quarrel with the Sikhs, who, under Runjeet
Singh, the old one-eyed "Lion of the Punjab," had wrested the rich
valley of Peshawur from the Afghan Empire, he said, "the late
transactions in this quarter, the conduct of the reckless and misguided
Sikhs, and their breach of treaty, are well known to your Lordship.
Communicate to me whatever may suggest itself to your wisdom for the
settlement of the affairs of this country, that it may serve as a rule
for my guidance." And he concluded with a hope that "your Lordship
will consider me and my country as your own." To this complimentary
effusion the Viceroy returned a suitable reply, assuring the Ameer
of his wish that the Afghans should become a "flourishing and united
nation," but declining to interfere in the Sikh quarrel, on the plea
that it was not "the practice of the British Government to interfere
with the affairs of other independent states." It was hinted, too, that
"some gentleman" would probably be deputed to the Ameer's Court to
discuss certain "commercial topics." This plan, which had originally
commended itself to Lord William Bentinck, shortly after took effect in
the despatch of Captain Alexander Burnes to Cabul.
But by this time affairs in Persia had reached a crisis. Though
Mahomed Shah, breathing fire and sword against Herat, had ascended the
throne in 1834, it was not till 1837 that his threats took practical
shape. Despite the ceaseless promptings of the Russian minister at
Teheran (who, it is perhaps needless to say, had, according to his
own Government, done his best to dissuade Mahomed from any advance on
the Afghan frontier), the Shah still hung back. If Kamran would send
hostages and a large present, would own the Persian king as sovereign,
coin money, and have prayers read in his name, all should be well.
The hostages and the present Kamran was content to allow, but the rest
he could not stomach. The Barukzye chief who ruled at Candahar viewed
the proposed invasion with complaisance, hoping to secure Herat for
himself, and being perfectly willing to hold it as a fief of Persia. He
even went so far as to propose to send one of his sons to the Persian
camp as hostage for his fidelity, and to secure the best terms for
himself and his brothers. Dost Mahomed warned him that if he did so he
would be made "to bite the finger of repentance," but the warning was
disregarded. Egged on by the flattering assurances of the inestimable
advantages to be derived from a Persian alliance, that the Russian
agent did not cease to lay before him, Kohun Dil Khan disobeyed the
commands of his chief; the boy was to be sent, and the alliance was
to be completed. Mahomed Shah then commenced his march against Herat,
and at the same time Burnes appeared at Cabul. "Thus," says Kaye, "the
seeds of the Afghan war were sown."
Burnes had been at Cabul before. He had gone there in 1832, with the
sanction of Lord William Bentinck, and had been courteously received
by Dost Mahomed, of whom he had formed a very favourable opinion, in
contrast with that which he entertained of the weak and vacillating
Soojah. His opinion of the Ameer was, probably, in the main a correct
one, but he scarcely seems to have exercised his usual judgment when
he declared the Afghans to be "a simple-minded, sober people, of frank
and open manners." Returning in the following year, Burnes was sent
to England to impart to the authorities at home the results of his
travels and observations. In London he was received with the greatest
enthusiasm. His book was published, and read by every one. He became
the "lion" of the season, and the name of "Bokhara Burnes" was to be
seen in every list of fashionable entertainments. Returning to India in
1835, he was soon removed from Cutch, where he had acted as Assistant
to the Resident, on a mission to the Ameers of Sindh. While still
engaged in that duty he received notice to hold himself in readiness
to proceed to Cabul, and on November 26, 1836, he sailed from Bombay
"to work out the policy of opening the river Indus to commerce."
That Lord Auckland had at that time any idea, much less any definite
plan, of interfering in Afghan politics is most unlikely, as it is
certain Lord William Bentinck had not when he first thought of this
"commercial" mission. It is worthy of note, however, that when Burnes
first broached the plan to the Court of Directors at home they refused
to countenance it, feeling, in the words of the chairman, Mr. Tucker,
"perfectly assured that it must soon degenerate into a political
agency, and that we should, as a necessary consequence, be involved in
all the entanglements of Afghan politics." Mr. Grant, of the Board of
Control, held similar views, and Sir Charles Metcalfe in an emphatic
minute pointed out the evils of this "commercial agency." The die,
however, was cast, and on September 20, 1837, Burnes for the second
time entered Cabul.
As before, Dost Mahomed received him with all courtesy, and with "great
pomp and splendour." The navigation of the Indus soon disappeared
into the background. From Burnes's own letters to Macnaghten, the
Political Secretary at Calcutta, it may be seen how much of importance
he himself attached to his commercial character. Nevertheless, at a
private interview, "which lasted till midnight," with the Ameer, he
talked a good deal about the Indus, and about trade, and other such
harmless topics. The Ameer listened with the greatest attention, but
when it came to his turn to speak, he substituted for the Indus the
word Peshawur, and for commerce, the ability and resources of Runjeet
Singh. If only he could regain Peshawur it was very evident that
whoso would might hold the trade of the Indus. On this head Burnes
was cautious. He suggested that possibly some arrangement might be
concluded with Runjeet Singh by which Peshawur might be restored to the
Ameer's brother Mahomed, from whose government the Sikhs had originally
won it. But the Ameer wanted it for himself, and by no manner of means
for his brother. Further than this, however, Burnes would not commit
himself. He distinctly stated, moreover, that neither Dost Mahomed
nor his brothers (should they decline the Persian alliance, of which
the Ameer, and probably with sincerity, declared himself in no way
desirous) must found any hopes on British aid. Sympathy he promised
largely, should they behave themselves well, but not a single rupee nor
a single musket. Still, even after this, the Ameer persisted in his
professions of friendship to the English, nor is there any reason to
doubt that he, at that time, meant what he said. Nay, he even offered
himself to compel his brothers at Candahar to break once and for all
with the Shah; but this Burnes declined, exhorting him, however,
to use all pacific means to influence them, and himself writing
to Kohun Dil to threaten him with the displeasure of England if he
continued his intrigues with the Persian and Russian Courts. At that
particular time the Candahar chiefs had rather cooled in their desire
for the Persian alliance, and began to have suspicions that instead
of obtaining Herat they were not unlikely to lose Candahar. Burnes
thereupon despatched Lieutenant Leech, an officer of his mission, to
them, promising them that should the Persian army after the fall of
Herat advance on Candahar, he would himself march with Dost Mahomed to
their defence, which he would further with all the means in his power.
It was a bold step, but as many thought at the time, and as nearly
all were agreed afterwards, it was by far the best that could have
been taken. Lord Auckland, however, thought, or was advised to think
otherwise. Burnes was severely censured for having so far exceeded his
instructions--though he might well have pleaded in excuse that he knew
not what were the instructions he had exceeded--and ordered at once to
"set himself right with the chiefs." There was nothing left for him but
to obey, and the result of his obedience was a treaty concluded between
the chiefs and the Shah under a Russian guarantee.
Such a risk was not to be run again, nor was Burnes for the future
to be able to plead any want of definite instructions. From this time
forward his instructions were, indeed, explicit enough. Briefly they
may be defined as to ask for everything and to give nothing. In vain
did Dost Mahomed point out that in desiring to regain Peshawur from the
Sikhs, he was doing practically no more than England was avowedly bent
on doing, on guarding his frontier from danger, and that to exchange
Runjeet Singh for his brother Mahomed was but to make his last state
worse than his first. Burnes himself fully recognized the justice of
his arguments, but Burnes's masters remained obstinately deaf. All
they would promise was to restrain Runjeet Singh from attacking Dost
Mahomed, provided Dost Mahomed in return bound himself to abstain from
an alliance with any other state. At this, says Burnes, the Sirdars
only laughed. "Such a promise," said Jubbar Khan, the Ameer's brother,
and a staunch champion of the English cause, "such a promise amounts
to nothing, for we are not under the apprehension of any aggressions
from Lahore; they have hitherto been on the side of the Ameer, not of
Runjeet Singh, and yet for such a promise you expect us to desist from
all intercourse with Russia, with Persia, with Toorkistan, with every
nation but England." To make matters still worse, at this crisis a new
actor appeared on the scene, the Russian Vickovitch, bearing letters
from Count Simonich and from the Czar himself, though the latter was
unsigned, so as to be repudiated or acknowledged as events might
require. The Ameer, still willing to please the British, offered to
turn the Russian back from his gates, but that, Burnes pointed out,
would be contrary to the rule of civilised nations, and Vickovitch was
therefore allowed to enter Cabul and to present his letters, which
were ostensibly, as those of Burnes had been, of a purely commercial
bearing. What Burnes, however, thought of the arrival, he showed
plainly enough in a letter written a few days after to a private
friend. "We are in a mess here," he writes. "The Emperor of Russia has
sent an envoy to Cabul with a blazing letter three feet long, offering
Dost Mahomed money to fight Runjeet Singh.... It is now a neck-and-neck
race between Russia and ourselves, and if his Lordship would hear
reason he would forthwith send agents to Bokhara, Herat, Candahar,
and Koondooz, not forgetting Sindh." His Lordship, however, would not
hear such reason as Burnes had to offer, and when on March 5th, 1838,
certain specific demands were presented by the Ameer, that the English
should protect Cabul and Candahar from Persia, that Runjeet Singh
should be compelled to restore Peshawur, and various others of the same
tendency, Burnes could only, in the name of the British Government,
refuse his assent to any and all of them, and then sit down to write
a formal request for his dismissal. One more attempt was made by Dost
Mahomed to come to terms, but it was of no use. The old ground was
traversed again, and only with the old result. As a last resource the
Ameer wrote to Lord Auckland in terms almost of humility, imploring him
"to remedy the grievances of the Afghans," and to "give them a little
encouragement and power." This was the last effort, and it failed. Then
the game was up indeed. Vickovitch was sent for and received with every
mark of honour; one of the Candahar chiefs came up in haste to Cabul,
and on April 26th, 1838, Burnes turned his back on the Afghan capital.
As the Russian here disappears from our story a a few words as to
his subsequent career and end may not be out of place. After the
departure of the English envoy he flung himself heart and soul into his
business; promising men, promising money, promising everything that
the Ameer asked. He even proposed to visit Lahore and use his good
offices with Runjeet Singh, but that plea failed, owing chiefly to
the address of Mackeson, our agent at Lahore. For a time the Russian
was all-powerful throughout Afghanistan, but after the repulse of the
Persians from Herat and the entry of the English into Cabul his star
paled. He proceeded to Teheran to give a full report of his doings to
the Russian Minister there, and by him was ordered to proceed direct
to St. Petersburg. Arrived there, flattered with hope, for he felt he
had done all man could do, he reported himself to Count Nesselrode. The
minister refused to see him. "I know no Captain Vickovitch," was the
answer, "except an adventurer of that name who is reported to have been
lately engaged in some unauthorised intrigues at Cabul and Candahar."
Vickovitch understood the answer thoroughly. He knew that severe
remonstrance had been sent from London to St. Petersburg; he knew his
own Government only too well. He went home, burnt his papers, wrote a
few lines of reproach, and blew his brains out.
To return to Cabul. Notwithstanding the Russian promises, and the
exultation of his brothers at Candahar, the Ameer felt that he had
acted unwisely. Very soon he saw that Russia could do little more than
promise, and that England had made up her mind to perform. Despite
Russian money and Russian men, the Shah could not force his way into
Herat while Eldred Pottinger stood behind the crumbling walls, and
a vast army was assembling on the banks of the Indus to drive Dost
Mahomed and the whole Barukzye clan from power.
To keep friends with the Afghan ruler and to preserve the independence
of his Empire was the obvious policy of the British Government. But
the authorities at Simlah, Lord Auckland, Mr. Macnaghten, Mr. Henry
Torrens and Mr. John Colvin, had determined that that ruler should be,
not the Barukzye Dost Mahomed, a man of proved energy and ability, who
had shown himself anxious to cultivate the friendship of England, and
who possessed the confidence and the favour of his subjects, but the
Suddozye Shah Soojah, who, though born of the legitimate line, was
no less a usurper than Dost Mahomed himself, who was regarded by the
majority of his countrymen with indifference and contempt, and who
more than once had proved alike his inability to administer and to
maintain dominion. By what process of reasoning the Viceroy arrived
at this remarkable conclusion has never been made perfectly clear,
but though he alone, notwithstanding Sir John Hobhouse's generous
declaration from the Board of Control, will be, rightly or wrongly,
held by posterity responsible for the disastrous events which followed,
it is at least to his credit that he left no stone unturned to arrive
at the opinions of all competent advisers before deciding on his own.
Prominent among these was Mr. McNeill, then our envoy at the Court of
Teheran, a man of keen powers of observation and undoubted ability,
who may be said to share with Pottinger the glory of the Persian
repulse from Herat. His plan, as he impressed more than once on Burnes,
was to consolidate the Afghan Empire under Dost Mahomed. Placing no
reliance on the sincerity of the Candahar chiefs, he yet entertained
a high opinion of the Ameer himself, whom he would have been well
pleased to see established in Herat and Candahar as well as in Cabul.
McNeill's correspondence, however, had to pass through the hands of
Captain, afterwards Sir Claudius, Wade, himself also well versed in
the politics of Central Asia, and at that time holding the responsible
post of Governor-General's Agent on the North-Western Frontier. Wade
forwarded a copy of McNeill's letter to the Governor, and forwarded
with it one from himself in which he strongly deprecated the policy of
consolidation. To him it seemed better that the Afghan Empire should
remain, as it then was, sub-divided into practically independent
states, each of whom, as he conceived, would be more likely in their
own interests to court our friendship and to meet our views, than
if brought under the yoke of one ruler, to whom they could never be
expected to yield a passive obedience. "Supposing," he continued, "we
were to aid Dost Mahomed to overthrow in the first place his brother
at Candahar, and then his Suddozye rival at Herat, what would be the
consequence? As the system of which it is intended to be a part would
go to gratify the longing wish of Mahomed Shah for the annexation of
Herat to his dominions, the first results would be that the Shah-Zadah
Kamran would apply to Persia, and offer, on the condition of her
assistance to save him from the fate which impended over his head, to
submit to all the demands of that General, which Kamran has hitherto
so resolutely and successfully resisted, and between his fears and
the attempts of Dost Mahomed to take it, Herat, which is regarded by
everyone who has studied its situation as the key to Afghanistan, would
inevitably fall prostrate before the arms of Persia, by the effect of
the very measures which we had designed for its security from Persian
thraldom." That it was our interest to maintain the independence of
Herat was obvious, so long as Herat was able to remain in the position
it was then assuming, that of a barrier against Russo-Persian invasion.
Prince Kamran was, in fact, then playing our game as well as we could
have played it ourselves. But the question was, how long would Herat be
able to retain its independence? The fall of Herat meant the fall of
Candahar, and the absorption of all Southern and Western Afghanistan
into a Persian province, and a Persian province was then but another
name for a Russian province. Could it have been possible, and that
McNeill thought it possible was a strong argument in its favour, to
consolidate the various states under one ruler strong enough to retain
the reins when once placed in his hands, Herat and Candahar would
have been secured for ever, and there would have arisen in a united
Afghanistan a perpetual barrier to Russian ambition. Had we come to
terms with Dost Mahomed, in all human probability we should not have
had to chastise the insolence of his son. Burnes for his part still
championed the cause of the Ameer, urging that it was not yet too late
to secure his friendship, that, despite all that had taken place, he
still wanted only the smallest encouragement to range himself on our
side, and that as whatever action was taken could not be taken save at
some cost, the money could not be better spent than on Dost Mahomed.
But when Burnes's opinion was asked, the Government had already decided
on their policy, and as Dost Mahomed was to go, he was only asked to
pronounce on the expediency of choosing Soojah as his successor. It
seemed to him that McNeill's plan, of which he was a staunch advocate,
would be better served by restoring Soojah to his crown than by giving
it to Sultan Mahomed or any other of the chiefs, who would probably
be but a tool in the hands of the Sikhs, themselves objects of bitter
hatred to the Afghans. As the Government, then, were committed to one
of two evils, Burnes gave his vote in favour of that which seemed to
him the least, and which he, in common with the rest of the Council,
believed could be accomplished with little danger and at comparatively
little expense.
Lord Auckland's first idea was that the deposition of Dost Mahomed
should be effected by the combined forces of Runjeet Singh and Soojah,
raised and drilled under British supervision, and assisted by British
gold--in Kaye's words, "England was to remain in the background,
jingling the money-bag." Such were the first instructions issued to the
Mission sent in May, 1838, to sound Runjeet Singh on the design, but
scarcely had they been written when the thought of employing British
troops seems first to have dawned in, or been introduced into Lord
Auckland's mind. He would have preferred that the two Princes should
undertake the work on their own account, while he contributed merely
his countenance and perhaps some money, but he was very doubtful
whether the Princes would see the matter in the same light. Macnaghten,
the leader of the mission, was instructed therefore to suggest the
first course to Runjeet Singh, and should he view that with disfavour,
to hold out the possibility of some sort of "demonstration" being
undertaken by British troops from some convenient point. The event
proved that Lord Auckland's doubts were just. The Sikh Prince heard
the proposal for restoring Soojah with pleasure, and at once gave his
consent to the plan; but when Macnaghten, cautiously feeling his way,
hinted that an army of Sikhs, together with such a force as Soojah
could raise with British help, would be amply sufficient, the crafty
old man stopped him with an emphatic refusal. That England should
become a third party to the treaty already existing between him and
Soojah was, in his own phrase "adding sugar to milk;" he was willing,
moreover, himself to play such a part as England might deem necessary;
but with the independent expedition he would have nothing to do.
Macnaghten therefore at once returned to his original proposal, and
after a good deal of fencing and delay on Bunjeet Singh's part, the
treaty was concluded. From Soojah, of course, little difficulty was
to be anticipated, but he, unlike Runjeet Singh, though willing to
employ British gold and British skill in equipping and disciplining the
forces he declared his ability at once to bring to his standard, was
by no means anxious to see a British force in the field with him. He
was doubtful what effect such an apparition in their strongholds might
have upon his countrymen, nor was he at all desirous to appear as owing
his throne to British bayonets. He proposed that his own force should
proceed by way of the Bolan Pass on Candahar and Ghuznee, while the
Sikhs, with whom should go his son Timour, should march on the capital
through the Khyber and Koord-Cabul defiles. Already, he said, had he
received offers of allegiance from numerous chiefs discontented with
the Barukzye rule, and offended at Dost Mahomed's alliance with the
Persians, prominent among whom appeared, strangely enough, the name of
Abdoolah Khan, destined to become the prime mover in the insurrection
which ultimately cost Soojah his life, and restored the Barukzye
dynasty. "The faggots," they wrote, "are ready; it only requires the
lighted torch to be applied." Soojah therefore was urgent with
Macnaghten that he should be allowed to accomplish his restoration with
his own troops, as he expressed himself confident of doing; a feat
which would greatly tend to raise his character among his countrymen,
while the fact of his being "upheld by foreign force alone could not
fail to detract in a great measure from his dignity and consequence."
Soojah's wishes, in fact, tallied precisely with Lord Auckland's
original design, but every day brought fresh complications, with fresh
confirmation of the impracticability of that design. First Soojah and
Runjeet Singh alone were to be the agents; then a British force was to
"demonstrate" in reserve at Shikarpoor; next a few British regiments
were to be added to Soojah's levies. Finally, all these plans were
dismissed, and one wholly different to any Lord Auckland had hitherto
dreamed of was substituted in their stead.
Sir Henry Fane, Commander-in-chief of the British army in India,
was then at Simlah, with Lord Auckland. That he had from the first
disapproved of English interference with Afghan politics the following
passage from his correspondence with Sir Charles Metcalfe, written
in 1837, sufficiently proves. "Every advance you might make beyond
the Sutlej to the westward, in my opinion, adds to your military
weakness ... if you want your empire to expand, expand it over Oude or
over Gwalior and the remains of the Mahratta Empire. Make yourselves
complete sovereigns of all within your bounds, _but let alone the far
West_." But as it had been decided that the work was to be done, he
was vehement in his opinion that it should be done as thoroughly as
possible. With a "fine old Tory" contempt of anything approaching to
economy, he advised the employment of a regular British force, horse,
foot, and artillery, with which there could be no possibility of a
reverse, a contingency in the peculiar circumstances of the case to be
guarded against with more than common care. There were, still nearer
to the Viceroy's person, other and even warmer advocates of the same
policy; so after some weeks of suspense and oscillation Lord Auckland
yielded, and the fiat for the "Army of the Indus" went forth.
In August the regiments selected were warned for field service, and
in September a General Order published the constitution of the force.
It was to be divided into two columns, the Bengal column and the
Bombay column. The former was to consist of a brigade of artillery
under Colonel Graham; a brigade of cavalry under Colonel Arnold;
and five brigades of infantry under Colonels Sale and Bennie,
of Her Majesty's, and Colonels Nott, Roberts, and Worseley, of the
Company's service. The latter were told off into two divisions under
Sir Willoughby Cotton, an officer of Her Majesty's army, who had seen
service in the Burmese war, and Major-General Duncan, of the Company's
army. The whole was to be under the personal command of Sir Henry Fane
himself. The Bombay column was to consist of a brigade of artillery
under Colonel Stevenson; a brigade of cavalry under Major-General
Thackwell; a brigade of infantry under Major-General Wiltshire; the
whole to be under the command of Sir John Keane, Commander-in-chief
of the Bombay army. The English regiments selected were, besides the
artillery, in the Bengal column, the 16th Lancers and the 3rd and 13th
Regiments of the Line; in the Bombay column, the 4th Dragoons and the
2nd and 17th Regiments of the Line. Besides these troops, Soojah's
own levies were being actively raised on the other side of the Indus,
under the supervision of Captain Wade, who found it no easy matter
to quiet the Afghan's not unfounded fears lest he should come to be
no more than a puppet in the hands of the English officers, and his
restoration finally effected, not by his own arms, but by the English
bayonets. Though the sympathies of the majority of our army were
rather with Dost Mahomed than with Soojah, and it was far from clear
to them on what pretext they were to invade the former's kingdom, the
prospect of active employment after so many years of repose was popular
with all classes of military men, and from every quarter of India
officers, leaving without a murmur the luxurious ease of well-paid
staff appointments, made haste to rejoin their regiments. Scarcely
less important than the selection of the military commands was the
selection of the envoys who were to accompany the different columns
in a political capacity. Wade of course was to march with the Sikh
force destined to escort Prince Timour through the Khyber Pass to his
father's capital, but it was not so easy to determine on whom should
devolve the delicate duty of directing the mind of Soojah himself,
and shaping the political course of his operations. Sir Henry Fane
not unreasonably wished that the entire control, political as well
as military, should be vested in his own hands, and proposed to take
Burnes with him as his confidential adviser. But Lord Auckland
had other views, and, contrary to general expectation, his choice fell
on Macnaghten, under whom Burnes, after a momentary, and not unnatural,
fit of disgust, agreed to serve in a subordinate capacity, believing,
in common with others, that Soojah once firmly seated on the throne,
Macnaghten would return, and the chief control of affairs would then
devolve upon him.
On October 1st the Declaration of War was issued. If our officers
were doubtful before as to the right of their cause this document
certainly tended but little to solve their doubts. Hardly, moreover,
had the Simlah manifesto had time to penetrate through India when news
arrived of the raising of the siege of Herat. As the deliverance of
Herat, and Western Afghanistan generally, from Persian rule had formed,
according to the proclamation, the principal object of the expedition,
it was supposed that the English army would now be disbanded, and
Soojah and Runjeet Singh left to their own devices. Even those of the
authorities at home who had allowed that, while a Persian force was
still at the gates of Herat, Lord Auckland could not do otherwise than
prepare for its defence, were unanimously of opinion that the motive
for the expedition had now ceased to exist. Among such authorities
conspicuously appear the names of the Duke of Wellington, Lord
Wellesley, Sir Charles Metcalfe, Mountstuart Elphinstone, and others of
scarce less weight and experience. Lord Auckland and his advisers were
not, however, of this number. The army was to be reduced in strength,
it is true, since there was no longer any prospect of an encounter with
Persia, or possibly with Russia, but the expedition was in no way to be
abandoned. Instead of two divisions the Bengal column was to consist
only of one; two brigades of infantry were to be left behind; and the
cavalry and artillery were to be proportionately reduced. Nor was Sir
Henry Fane inclined to retain the command of a force whose numbers
were so diminished, and whose probabilities of action were so limited.
The Bengal column was therefore placed in the hands of Sir Willoughby
Cotton, and on its junction with the column from Bombay the chief
command was to fall to Sir John Keane, who led the latter force.
All things were now ready, but before the army broke ground a grand
ceremony was to take place, a ceremony which had indeed been arranged
before any note of war had been sounded. On November 29th Lord Auckland
and Runjeet Singh met at Ferozepore. It was a magnificent pageant. The
Viceroy's camp was pitched about four miles from the river Gharra.
The English army lay on the plain, a noble force, in perfect order and
condition, and brought together, according to Havelock, in a manner
that had never before been equalled. Escorted by the principal military
and political English officers, Runjeet Singh rode up on his elephant
through a splendid guard of honour, amid the thunder of artillery and
the clash of innumerable bands, to the Durbar tent. Lord Auckland and
Sir Henry Fane rode out to meet him, and as the two cavalcades joined
such was the crush and uproar that many of the Sikh chiefs, thinking
there was some design afoot on their prince, began "to blow their
matches and grasp their weapons with a mingled air of distrust and
ferocity." With some difficulty a passage was cleared, and the little
decrepit old man, supported by the Viceroy and the Commander-in-chief,
entered the tent where the costly presents prepared for him were laid
out. Ordnance of British make, horses and elephants magnificently
caparisoned, were all inspected and admired, and, while a royal salute
thundered without, the prince bowed low before a picture of Queen
Victoria, borne into his presence by Sir Willoughby Cotton. As the
infirm old chief was being conducted round the tent he stumbled and
fell to the ground at the very muzzle of one of the British guns. A
murmur of horror arose from his Sirdars at so dire an omen, but as the
Viceroy and Sir Henry Fane hastened to raise him to his feet, their
hearts were comforted by the reflection that though their chief had
fallen before the British guns, the highest representatives of the
British Queen had raised him again to his feet.
On the following day the visit was returned amid a scene of still
greater splendour and variety. According to an eye-witness "the Sikhs
shone down the English." All the great Sirdars were present in their
most gorgeous trappings and mounted on their finest steeds, while from
a Sikh band the strains of our own national anthem rose upon the air,
and from the Sikh guns pealed forth the salute ordained for royalty
alone. It must be confessed, however, that Runjeet Singh's ideas of
ceremony were not all of the same exalted nature. At a later period
of the day, after all the due formalities were over, the Viceroy was
required to be present at "an unseemly display of dancing girls, and
the antics of some male buffoons." The two following days were devoted
to military exercises. On the first Sir Henry Fane manoeuvred the
British force with elaborate skill and display; and on the second
the Sikh cavalry executed some less intricate movements with the
unqualified approval of their experienced critics.
With this the ceremony was at an end. Runjeet Singh returned to
Lahore, and the Viceroy followed him on his first visit to the Sikh
principality. The final dispositions and selections were made by the
Commander-in-chief. A few weeks previously Soojah's levies, about 6000
strong, horse, foot, and artillery, under the command of Major-General
Simpson, had left Loodhianah on their way to the front, and on December
10th, 1838, the British troops marched out from Ferozepore on their
first stage to the Afghan capital.