[1809-1816]
The Mid-Career of Shah Soojah—His Wanderings and Misfortunes—Captivity
in Cashmere—Imprisonment at Lahore—Robbery of the Koh-i-noor—Reception
of the Shah by the Rajah of Kistawar—His Escape to the British
Territories.
Before Mr. Elphinstone’s Mission had cleared the limits of the
Douranee Empire, Shah Soojah had given battle to his enemies, and
been disastrously defeated. The month of June, 1809, had not worn to
a close, before it was evident that his cause was hopeless. Still he
did not abandon the contest. Despatching his Zenana, with which was
his blind brother, to Rawul Pindee, he made new efforts to splinter
up his broken fortunes. But sustaining several defeats, and narrowly
escaping, on more than one occasion, with his life, he desisted for a
time from operations, of which every new struggle demonstrated more
painfully the utter fruitlessness. He wanted military genius, and he
wanted the art to inspire confidence and to win affection. Deserted by
the chiefs and the people, he withdrew beyond the frontier, and there
entered upon new preparations for the renewal of the contest under
circumstances more favourable to success. Entertaining and drilling
troops, he spent a year at Rawul Pindee. Some defections from his
brother’s party inspiring him with new hopes, he marched thence to
Peshawur, and took possession of the Balla Hissar, or royal fortress.
But here the treachery of his friends was likely to have proved more
fatal to him than the malice of his enemies. The chiefs on whom he
most relied were bribed over by the Governor of Cashmere to seize the
person of the King. Persuading him, before he commenced the expedition
to Caubul, to send out the horses of his troopers to graze in the
neighbouring villages, and thus stripping him of his only defence, they
escaladed the Balla Hissar, seized the royal person, and carried the
unfortunate monarch to the valley of Cashmere. Here he was offered his
release at the price of the Koh-i-noor; but he refused to surrender
this magnificent appendage to the Crown of Caubul, and rescued it from
the hands of one plunderer only to suffer it to fall into the grip of
another.
It was in 1812 that Shah Soojah was carried off a prisoner to Cashmere.
He appears to have remained there about a year, and, during that time,
to have been treated with little kindness and respect. Mahmoud was then
in comparative quiet and security at Caubul, and, in his good fortune,
seems to have regarded with compassion the fate of his unhappy brother.
“When Shah Mahmoud heard of the way in which we were treated,” writes
the royal autobiographer, “the latent feelings of fraternal affection
were aroused within him, and he immediately sent a force into the
Barukzye country. After plundering the whole tribe of Atta Mahmoud
Khan, he carried men, women, and children into captivity. Finding that
this had not the desired effect, viz., our release from bondage, he
sent a force to Cashmere, under Futteh Khan.” Atta Mahmoud advanced
to give him battle; but his followers deserted to the standard of the
Barukzye Wuzeer, and he fled homewards to Cashmere. Here, threatened
by Futteh Khan, he implored the assistance of his captive. “Seeing
his escape could not be effected without our aid, he came,” says Shah
Soojah, “to our place of confinement, bare-headed, with the Koran in
one hand, a naked sword in the other, and a rope about his neck, and
requested our forgiveness for the sake of the sacred volume.” The
Shah, who, according to his own statements, was never wanting in that
most kingly quality of forgiveness, forgave him on his own account,
and recommended him to make submission to Futteh Khan. The Wuzeer was
advancing upon Cashmere from one direction, and the Sikhs from another;
and it was plain that the rebellious Nazim had nothing before him but
to submit.
I wish to believe Shah Soojah’s history of the amiable fraternal
impulses which dictated the expedition to Cashmere. But it is difficult
to entertain a conviction that it was not directed towards other
objects than the release of the exiled monarch. The result was,
that Atta Mahmoud, the rebellious Nazim, made submission to Futteh
Khan;—that Mokhum Chund, the leader of the Sikh expedition, met the
Douranee minister about the same time, and that both recommended Shah
Soojah to proceed on a visit to Runjeet Singh.[65] The Maharajah, it
soon became very clear, coveted the possession of the great Douranee
diamond. On the second day after Shah Soojah entered Lahore, he was
waited on by an emissary from Runjeet, who demanded the jewel in the
name of his master. The fugitive monarch asked for time to consider
the request, and hinted that, after he had partaken of Runjeet’s
hospitality, he might be in a temper to grant it. On the following
day, the same messenger presented himself again, and received a
similar reply. Runjeet Singh was in no mood to brook this delay.
Determined to possess himself of the Koh-i-noor, he now resorted to
other measures to extort it from the luckless owner. “We then,” says
Shah Soojah, “experienced privations of the necessaries of life, and
sentinels were placed over our dwelling. A month passed in this way.
Confidential servants of Runjeet Singh then waited on us, and inquired
if we wanted ready cash, and would enter into an agreement and treaty
for the above-mentioned jewel. We answered in the affirmative, and
next day, Ram Singh brought 40,000 or 50,000 rupees, and asked again
for the Koh-i-noor, which we promised to procure when some treaty was
agreed upon. Two days after this, Runjeet Singh came in person, and,
after friendly protestations, he stained a paper with safflower, and
swearing by the Grunth of Baba Nanuck and his own sword, he wrote the
following security and compact:—That he delivered over the provinces
of Kote Cumaleeh, Jung Shawl, and Khuleh Noor, to us and our heirs for
ever; also offering assistance in troops and treasure for the purpose
of again recovering our throne. We also agreed, if we should ever
ascend the throne, to consider Runjeet Singh always in the light of an
ally. He then proposed himself that we should exchange turbans, which
is among the Sikhs a pledge of eternal friendship, and we then gave him
the Koh-i-noor.”
Having thus obtained possession of the great diamond, Runjeet Singh,
who at no time of his life had very high ideas of honour, was unwilling
to give up the jagheer which he had promised as the price of it.
Whilst Shah Soojah was still thinking over the non-performance of
the contract, Runjeet invited him to accompany an expedition which
was proceeding under the Maharajah to Peshawur, and held out to him
hopes of the recovery of his lost dominions. The Shah joined Runjeet
at Rotas, and they proceeded together to Rawul Pindee. There the
Maharajah, seeing little chance of success, abandoned the expedition,
and, according to the account given by Shah Soojah, desired him to
proceed onward in the company of Ram Singh. Left alone with that chief,
he was shamelessly plundered by robbers of higher note than the Sikh
chiefs would willingly admit. All thought of proceeding to Peshawur was
now abandoned, and, accompanied by Ram Singh and the heir-apparent,
Shah Soojah returned to Lahore.
At the capital his property was not more secure than on the line of
march. There was something yet left to be plundered, and the plunderers
were of still higher rank. Runjeet Singh stripped the wretched monarch
of everything that was worth taking, and “even after this,” says
Shah Soojah, “he did not perform one of his promises.” Instead of
bestowing new favours upon the man who had yielded up his treasures
so unsparingly, the Maharajah began to heap new indignities upon him.
Spies were set over him, and guards surrounded his dwelling. Five
months passed in this way; and as time advanced, the condition of
the wretched Douranee Prince became more hopeless; his escape from
this wretched thraldom more to be coveted, and yet more difficult
to encompass. He remembered the friendly overtures of the British
Government, and sighed for a peaceful asylum under the shelter of the
wings of the great power beyond the Sutlej. “We thought,” he says,
“of the proffered friendship of the British Government, and hoped for
an asylum in Loodhianah. Several Mussulmans and Hindoos had formerly
offered their services, and we now engaged them and purchased several
of the covered hackeries of the country. Every stratagem was defeated
by the spies, until at last we found that Abdool Hussan had disclosed
our plans to Runjeet Singh. At last, being hopeless, we called Abdool
Hussan and Moollah Jaffier into the presence, and after offering them
bribes, and giving expectations of reward, we bought them to our
purpose; and the members of the seraglio, with their attendants, all
dressed in the costume of the country, found a safe conveyance in the
hackeries above mentioned to the cantonments of Loodhianah. When we
received accounts of their safe arrival, we gave sincere thanks to
Almighty God!”
But his own escape was yet to be effected. Outwitted to this extent,
Runjeet Singh redoubled his precautions, and in no very conciliatory
mood of mind hemmed in the ex-King with guards, and watched him day
and night with the keenest vigilance. “Seven ranges of guards,” says
the royal autobiographer, “were put upon our person, and armed men
with lighted torches watched our bed. When we went as far as the
banks of the river at night, the sentinels upon the ramparts lighted
flambeaux until we returned. Several months passed in this manner,
and our own attendants were with difficulty allowed to come into the
presence. No relief was left but that of our holy religion, and God
alone could give us assistance.” And assistance was given, in the
shape of unwonted resolution and ingenuity. In this critical hour
the resources of the Shah seem to have developed themselves in an
unexampled manner. He foiled all Runjeet’s efforts to secure his
prisoner, and baffled the vigilance of his guards. A few faithful
attendants aided his endeavours, and he escaped from the cruel walls of
Lahore. “We ordered,” he says, “the roof of the apartment containing
our camp equipage to be opened, so as to admit of a person passing
through; apertures were formed by mining through seven other chambers
to the outside of the building.” Everything being thus prepared, the
unhappy King disguised himself as a mendicant, and leaving one of his
attendants to simulate the royal person on his bed, crept through the
fissures in the walls, escaped with two followers into the street, and
emerged thence through the main sewer which ran beneath the city wall.
Outside Lahore he was joined by his remaining followers. He had been
thinking, in confinement, of the blessings of a safe retreat at
Loodhianah; but no sooner did he find himself abroad than he courted
new adventures, and meditated new enterprises. Instead of hastening to
the British provinces, he turned his face towards the hills of Jummoo.
Wandering about in this direction without seemingly any fixed object,
he received friendly overtures from the Rajah of Kistawar, and was
easily persuaded to enter his dominions.
The Rajah went out to meet him, loaded him with kindness, conducted him
to his capital, and made the kingly fugitive happy with rich gifts and
public honours. Offering up sacrifices, and distributing large sums
of money in honour of his royal guest, the Rajah spared nothing that
could soothe the grief or pamper the vanity of the exiled monarch.
But the novelty of this pleasant hospitality soon began to wear away,
and the restless wanderer sighed for a life of more enterprise and
excitement. “Tired of an idle life,” he says, “we laid plans for an
attack on Cashmere.” The Rajah of Kistawar was well pleased with the
project, and placed his troops and his treasury at the command of his
royal guest. The Shah himself, though robbed of all his jewels, had a
lakh of rupees remaining at Lahore, but as soon as he began to possess
himself of it, the Maharajah stretched out his hand, and swept it into
his own treasury. Nothing daunted by this accident, the Kistawar chief,
who was “ready to sacrifice his territory for the weal” of the Shah,
freely supplied the sinews of war; troops were levied, and operations
commenced.
But it was not written in the Shah’s book of life that his enterprises
should result in anything but failure. The outset of the expedition
was marked by some temporary successes; but it closed in disaster and
defeat. The Shah’s levies charged the stockaded positions of the enemy
sword in hand, and were pushing into the heart of the country, when
the same inexorable enemy that has baffled the efforts of the greatest
European states raised its barriers against the advance of the invading
army. “We were only three coss,” relates Shah Soojah, “from Azim Khan’s
camp, with the picturesque city of Cashmere full in view, when the
snow began again to fall, and the storm continued with violence, and
without intermission, for two days. Our Hindostanees were benumbed with
a cold unfelt in their sultry regions; the road to our rear was blocked
up with snow, and the supplies still far distant. For three days our
troops were almost famished, and many Hindostanees died. We could not
advance, and retreat was hazardous. Many lost their hands and feet from
being frost-bitten, before we determined to retreat.”
These calamities, which seemed to strengthen the devotion of the Rajah
of Kistawar to the unfortunate Shah, and which were borne by him with
the most manly fortitude, sobered the fugitive Afghan monarch, and
made him again turn his thoughts longingly towards a tranquil asylum
in the Company’s dominions. At the earnest request of his new friend,
he remained during nine months beneath the hospitable roof of the
Rajah, and then prepared for a journey to Loodhianah.[66] Avoiding the
Lahore territory, lest he should fall into the hands of Runjeet Singh,
willing rather to encounter the eternal snows of the hill regions than
his ruthless enemies on the plains, he tracked along the inhospitable
mountains of Thibet, where for days and days no signs of human life
or vegetation appeared to cheer his heart and encourage his efforts.
“The depth of the eternal snows,” he says, “was immense. Underneath
the large bodies of ice the mountain torrents had formed themselves
channels. The five rivers watering the Punjaub have their rise here
from fountains amid the snows of ages. We passed mountains, the snows
of which varied in colour, and at last reached the confines of Thibet,
after experiencing the extremes of cold, hunger, and fatigue.”
His trials were not yet over. He had still to encounter dangers and
difficulties among the hill tribes. The people of Kulloo insulted and
ill-treated him; but the Rajah came to his relief, and, after a few
days of onward travelling, to the inexpressible joy of the fugitive
monarch the red houses of the British residents at one of our hill
stations appeared in sight. “Our cares and fatigues were now,” says
the Shah, “forgotten, and giving thanks to Almighty God, who, having
freed us from the hands of our enemies, and led us through the snows
and over the trackless mountains, had now safely conducted us to the
land of friends, we passed a night, for the first time, with comfort
and without dread. Signs of civilisation showed themselves as we
proceeded, and we soon entered a fine broad road. A chuprassie from
Captain Ross attended us; the hill ranas paid us every attention; and
we soon reached Loodhianah, where we found our family treated with
marked respect, and enjoying every comfort after their perilous march
from Lahore.”
It was in the month of September, 1816, that Shah Soojah joined his
family at Loodhianah. He sought a resting-place, and he found one
in the British dominions. Two years of quietude and peace were his.
But quietude and peace are afflictions grievous and intolerable to
an Afghan nature. The Shah gratefully acknowledged the friendly
hospitality of the British, but the burden of a life of inactivity
was not to be borne. The Douranee Empire was still rent by intestine
convulsions. The Barukzye sirdars were dominant at Caubul; but their
sovereignty was threatened by Shah Mahmoud and the Princes of Herat,
and not, at that time, professing to conquer for themselves, for the
spirit of legitimacy was not extinct in Afghanistan, they looked abroad
for a royal puppet, and found one at Loodhianah. Azim Khan invited
Shah Soojah to re-assert his claims to the throne; and the Shah, weary
of repose, unwarned by past experience, flung himself into this new
enterprise, only to add another to that long list of failures which it
took nearly a quarter of a century more to render complete.