[1816-1837.]
Dost Mahomed and the Barukzyes—Early days of Dost Mahomed—The fall of
Futteh Khan—Defeat of Shah Mahmoud—Supremacy of the Barukzyes—Position
of the Empire—Dost Mahomed at Caubul—Expedition of Shah Soojah—His
Defeat—Capture of Peshawur by the Sikhs.
Among the twenty brothers of Futteh Khan was one many years his junior,
whose infancy was wholly disregarded by the great Barukzye Sirdar.
The son of a woman of the Kuzzilbash tribe, looked down upon by the
high-bred Douranee ladies of his father’s household, the boy had begun
life in the degrading office of a sweeper at the sacred cenotaph of
Lamech.[67] Permitted, at a later period, to hold a menial office
about the person of the powerful Wuzeer, he served the great man with
water, or bore his pipe; was very zealous in his ministrations; kept
long and painful vigils; saw everything, heard everything in silence;
bided his time patiently, and when the hour came, trod the stage of
active life as no irresolute novice. A stripling of fourteen, in the
crowded streets of Peshawur in broad day, as the buyers and the sellers
thronged the thoroughfares of the city, he slew one of the enemies of
Futteh Khan, and galloped home to report the achievement to the Wuzeer.
From that time his rise was rapid. The neglected younger brother of
Futteh Khan became the favourite of the powerful chief, and following
the fortunes of the warlike minister, soon took his place among the
chivalry of the Douranee Empire.
The name of this young warrior was Dost Mahomed Khan. Nature seems to
have designed him for a hero of the true Afghan stamp and character.
Of a graceful person, a prepossessing countenance, a bold frank
manner, he was outwardly endowed with all those gifts which most
inspire confidence and attract affection; whilst undoubted courage,
enterprise, activity, somewhat of the recklessness and unscrupulousness
of his race, combined with a more than common measure of intelligence
and sagacity, gave him a command over his fellows and a mastery over
circumstances, which raised him at length to the chief seat in the
empire. His youth was stained with many crimes, which he lived to
deplore. It is the glory of Dost Mahomed that in the vigour of his
years he looked back with contrition upon the excesses of his early
life, and lived down many of the besetting infirmities which had
overshadowed the dawn of his career. The waste of a deserted childhood
and the deficiencies of a neglected education he struggled manfully
to remedy and repair. At the zenith of his reputation there was not,
perhaps, in all Central Asia a chief so remarkable for the exercise of
self-discipline and self-control; but he emerged out of a cloudy morn
of vice, and sunk into a gloomy night of folly.
As the lieutenant of his able and powerful brother, the young Dost
Mahomed Khan displayed in all the contests which rent the Douranee
Empire a daring and heroic spirit, and considerable military address.
Early acquiring the power of handling large bodies of troops, he was
regarded, whilst yet scarcely a man, as a dashing, fearless soldier,
and a leader of good repute. But, in those early days, his scruples
were few; his excesses were many. It was one of those excesses, it is
supposed, which cost the life of Futteh Khan, and built up his own
reputation on the ruin of his distinguished brother.
It was shortly after the retirement of Shah Soojah to the British
possessions that Futteh Khan set out, at the head of an army, to the
western boundary of Afghanistan. Persia had long been encroaching upon
the limits of the Douranee Empire, and it was now to stem the tide
of Kujjar invasion that the Afghan Wuzeer set out for Khorassan. At
this time he was the virtual ruler of the country. Weak, indolent, and
debauched, Shah Mahmoud, retaining the name and the pomp of royalty,
had yielded the actual government of the country into the hands of
Futteh Khan and his brothers. The Princes of the blood royal quailed
before the Barukzye Sirdars. Ferooz-ood-Deen, brother of the reigning
monarch, was at that time governor of Herat. Whether actuated by
motives of personal resentment or ambition, or instigated by Shah
Mahmoud himself, Futteh Khan determined to turn the Persian expedition
to other account, and to throw Herat into the hands of the Barukzyes.
The execution of this design was entrusted to Dost Mahomed. He entered
Herat with his Kohistanee followers as a friend; and when the chiefs
of the city were beyond its gates, in attendance upon the Wuzeer, with
characteristic Afghan treachery and violence he massacred the palace
guards, seized the person of the Prince, spoiled the treasury, and
violated the harem. Setting the crown upon this last act of violence,
he tore the jewelled waistband from the person of the royal wife of one
of the royal Princes.[68] The outraged lady is said to have sent her
profaned garment to Prince Kamran, and to have drawn from him an oath
that he would avenge the injury. He was true to his vow. The blow was
struck; but it fell not on the perpetrator of the outrage: it fell upon
Futteh Khan.
Dost Mahomed had fled for safety to Cashmere. The Wuzeer, returning
from the Persian expedition, fell into the hands of Prince Kamran,
who punctured his eyes with the point of a dagger.[69] What followed
is well known. Enraged by so gross an outrage on a member of the
Suddozye family, alarmed at the growing power of the Barukzyes, and
further irritated by the resolute refusal of Futteh Khan to betray his
brothers, who had effected their escape from Herat, Kamran and his
father, Shah Mahmoud, agreed to put their noble prisoner to death.
They were then on their way from Candahar to Caubul. The ex-minister
was brought into their presence, and again called upon to write to his
brothers, ordering them to surrender themselves to the Shah. Again he
refused, alleging that he was but a poor blind captive; that his career
was run; that he had no longer any influence; and that he could not
consent to betray his brethren. Exasperated by the resolute bearing
of his prisoner, Mahmoud Shah ordered the unfortunate minister—the
king-maker to whom he owed his crown—to be put to death before him;
and there, in the presence of the feeble father and the cruel son,
Futteh Khan was by the attendant courtiers literally hacked to pieces.
His nose, ears, and lips were cut off; his fingers severed from his
hands, his hands from his arms, his arms from his body. Limb followed
limb, and long was the horrid butchery continued before the life of the
victim was extinct. Futteh Khan raised no cry, offered no prayer for
mercy. His fortitude was unshaken to the last. He died as he had lived,
the bravest and most resolute of men—like his noble father, a victim
to the perfidy and ingratitude of princes. The murder of Poyndah Khan
shook the Suddozye dynasty to its base. The assassination of Futteh
Khan soon made it a heap of ruins.[70]
From this time, the rise of Dost Mahomed was rapid. He had the blood
of kindred to avenge. The cruelty and ingratitude of Mahmoud and his
son were now to be signally punished by the brother of the illustrious
sufferer. Azim Khan, who ruled in Cashmere, counselled a course of
forbearance; but Dost Mahomed indignantly rejected the proposal; and
declaring that it would be an eternal disgrace to the Barukzyes not
to chastise the murderers of their chief, swore that he would march
upon Caubul, at the head of an army of retribution. Inclined neither
to enter personally upon so perilous an undertaking, nor to appear, in
such a juncture, wholly supine, Azim Khan presented his brother with
three or four lakhs of rupees to defray the charges of the expedition—a
sum which was exhausted long before the Sirdar neared Caubul. But in
spite of every obstacle, Dost Mahomed reached Koord-Caubul, two marches
from the capital, and there encamped his army.
The youthful son of Kamran, Prince Jehangire, was then the nominal
ruler of Caubul. But the actual administration of affairs was in
the hands of Atta Mahomed. A Sirdar of the Bamezye tribe, a man of
considerable ability, but no match for Dost Mahomed, he was now guilty
of the grand error of underrating such an adversary. He had acted
a conspicuous part in the recent intestine struggles between the
Suddozye brothers; but he had no love for the royal family—none for the
Barukzyes. He it was who had instigated Kamran to the cruel murder of
Futteh Khan, and had with his own hands commenced the inhuman butchery.
Now to advance ambitious projects of his own, he was ready to betray
his masters. Simulating a friendship which he did not feel, he leagued
himself with their enemies, and covenanted to betray the capital into
the hands of the Barukzye Sirdars. But Dost Mahomed and his brethren
had not forgotten the terrible tragedy which had cut short the great
career of the chief of their tribe. In a garden-house which had once
belonged to the murdered minister, they met Atta Mahomed, there to
complete the covenant for the surrender of the city. A signal was
given, when one—the youngest—of the brothers rushed upon the Bamezye
chief, threw him to the ground, and subjected him to the cruel process
which had preceded the murder of Futteh Khan. They spared his life; but
sent him blind and helpless into the world, with the mark of Barukzye
vengeance upon zhim—an object less of compassion than of scorn.
The seizure of the Balla Hissar was now speedily effected. The
Shah-zadah was surrounded by treachery. Young and beautiful, he was
the delight of the women of Caubul; but he had few friends among the
chivalry of the empire. Too weak to distinguish the true from the
false, he was easily betrayed. Persuaded to withdraw himself into
the upper citadel, he left the lower fortress at the mercy of Dost
Mahomed. The Sirdar made the most of the opportunity; ran a mine under
the upper works, and blew up a portion of them. Death stared the
Shah-zadah in the face. The women of Caubul offered up prayers for the
safety of the beautiful Prince. The night was dark; the rain descended
in torrents. To remain in the citadel was to court destruction. Under
cover of the pitchy darkness, it was possible that he might effect his
escape. Attended by a few followers, he made the effort, and succeeded.
He fled to Ghuzni, and was saved.
Dost Mahomed was now in possession of Caubul. But threatened from two
different quarters, his tenure was most insecure. Shah Mahmoud and
Prince Kamran were marching down from Herat, and Azim Khan was coming
from Cashmere to assert his claims, as the representative of the
Barukzye family. But the spirit of legitimacy was not wholly extinct in
Afghanistan. The Barukzyes did not profess to conquer for themselves.
It was necessary to put forward some scion of the royal family, and
to fight and conquer in his name. Dost Mahomed proclaimed Sultan Ali,
whilst Azim Khan invited Shah Soojah to emerge from the obscurity of
Loodhianah and re-assert his claims to the throne.[71]
Weary of retirement and inactivity, the Shah consented, and an
expedition was planned. But the covenant was but of short duration. The
contracting parties fell out upon the road, and, instead of fighting
a common enemy, got up a battle among themselves. The Shah, who
never lived to grow wiser, gave himself such airs, and asserted such
ridiculous pretentions, that Azim Khan deserted his new master, and let
loose his troops upon the royal cortège. Defeated in the conflict which
ensued,[72] Shah Soojah fled to the Khybur hills, and thence betook
himself to Sindh. Another puppet being called for, Prince Ayoob, for
want of a better, was elevated to that dignity, and the new friends set
out for Caubul.
In the meanwhile the royal army, which had marched from Herat under
Shah Mahmoud and Prince Kamran approached the capital of Afghanistan.
Unprepared to receive so formidable an enemy, weak in numbers, and
ill-supplied with money and materials, Dost Mahomed could not, with
any hope of success, have given battle to Mahmoud’s forces. The danger
was imminent. The royal troops were within six miles of the capital.
Dost Mahomed and his followers prepared for flight. With the bridles
of their horses in their hands, they stood waiting the approach of the
enemy. But their fears were groundless. A flight ensued; but it was not
Dost Mahomed’s, but Mahmoud’s army that fled. At the very threshold
of victory, the Suddozye Prince, either believing that there was
treachery in his ranks, or apprehending that the Barukzyes would seize
Herat in his absence, turned suddenly back, and flung himself into the
arms of defeat.
The Barukzyes were now dominant throughout Afghanistan. The
sovereignty, indeed, of Azim Khan’s puppet, Ayoob, was proclaimed;
but, Herat alone excepted, the country was in reality parcelled out
among the Barukzye brothers. By them the superior claims of Azim Khan
were generally acknowledged. Caubul, therefore, fell to his share.
Dost Mahomed took possession of Ghuzni. Pur Dil Khan, Kohan Dil Khan,
and their brothers, occupied Candahar. Jubbar Khan, a brother of Dost
Mahomed, was put in charge of the Ghilji country. Sultan Mahomed
and his brothers succeeded to the government of Peshawur, and the
Shah-zadah Sultan Ali, Dost Mahomed’s puppet, sunk quietly into the
insignificance of private life.
But this did not last long. Shah Soojah had begun again to dream of
sovereignty. He was organising an army at Shikarpoor. Against this
force marched Azim Khan, accompanied by the new King, Ayoob. Recalled
to the capital by the intrigues of Dost Mahomed, and delayed by one
of those complicated plots which display at once the recklessness and
the treachery of the Afghan character,[73] the Wuzeer was compelled
for a while to postpone the southern expedition. The internal strife
subsided, the march was renewned, and Azim Khan moved down on
Shikarpoor. But the army of Shah Soojah melted away at his approach.
Then Azim Khan planned an expedition against the Sikhs. He had no
fear of Runjeet Singh, whom he had once beaten in battle. Dost
Mahomed accompanied his brother, and they marched upon the frontier,
by Jellalabad and the Karapa Pass. But the watchful eye of Runjeet
was upon them, and he at once took measures for their discomfiture.
He well knew the character of the Barukzye brothers—knew them to be
avaricious, ambitious, treacherous; the hand of each against his
brethren. He thought bribery better than battle, and sent agents to
tamper with Sultan Mahomed and the other Peshawur chiefs. Hoping to
be enabled, in the end, to throw off the supremacy of Azim Khan, they
gladly listened to his overtures. Dost Mahomed received intelligence of
the plot, and signified his willingness to join the confederacy. His
offer was accepted. This important accession to his party communicated
new courage to Runjeet Singh. Everything was soon in train. Azim Khan
was at Minchini with his treasure and his Harem, neither of which, in
so troubled a state of affairs, could he venture to abandon. Sultan
Mahomed wrote to him from the Sikh camp that there was a design upon
both. The intelligence filled the Sirdar with grief and consternation.
He beheld plainly the treachery of his brothers, shed many bitter
tears, looked with fear and trembling into the future; saw disgrace on
one side, the sacrifice of his armies and treasure on the other; now
resolved to march down upon the enemy, now to break up his encampment
and retire. Night closed in upon him whilst in this state of painful
agitation and perplexity. Rumours of a disastrous something soon
spread through the whole camp. What it was, few could declare beyond
the Sirdar’s own tent; but his followers lost confidence in their
chief. They knew that some evil had befallen him; that he had lost
heart; that his spirit was broken. The nameless fear seized upon the
whole army, and morning dawned upon the wreck of a once formidable
force. His troops had deserted him, and he prepared to follow, with his
treasure and his Harem, to Jellalabad. Runjeet Singh entered Peshawur
in triumph; but thought it more prudent to divide the territory between
Dost Mahomed and Sultan Mahomed, than to occupy it on his own account,
and rule in his own name. The division was accordingly made. In the
mean while Azim Khan, disappointed and broken-spirited, was seized with
a violent disorder, the effect of anxiety and sorrow, and never quitted
the bed of sickness until he was carried to the tomb.[74]
This was in 1823. The death of Azim Khan precipitated the downfal of
the Suddozye monarchy, and raised Dost Mahomed to the chief seat in the
Douranee Empire. The last wretched remnant of legitimacy was now about
to perish by the innate force of its own corruption. The royal puppet,
Ayoob, and his son attempted to seize the property of the deceased
minister. Tidings of this design reached Candahar, and Shere Dil Khan,
with a party of Barukzye adherents, hastened to Caubul to rescue the
wealth of his brother and to chastise the spoliators. The Prince was
murdered in the presence of his father, and the unhappy King carried
off a prisoner to that ill-omened garden-house of Futteh Khan, which
had witnessed the destruction of another who had done still fouler
wrong to the great Barukzye brotherhood.[75]
In the mean while, Habib-oolah-Khan, son of Azim Khan, had succeeded
nominally to the power possessed by his deceased parent. But he had
inherited none of the late minister’s intellect and energy, and none
of his personal influence. Beside the deathbed of his father he had
been entrusted to the guidance of Jubbar Khan, but he had not the good
sense to perceive the advantages of such a connexion. He plunged into
a slough of dissipation, and, when he needed advice, betook himself to
the counsels of men little better and wiser than himself. The ablest
of his advisers was Ameen-oolah-Khan, the Loghur chief—known to a
later generation of Englishmen as “the infamous Ameen-oolah.” This
man’s support was worth retaining; but Habib-oolah, having deprived
Jubbar Khan of his government, attempted to destroy Ameen-oolah-Khan;
and thus, with the most consummate address, paved the way to his own
destruction. Dost Mahomed, ever on the alert, appeared on the stage at
the fitting moment. Alone, he had not sufficient resources to compete
with the son of Azim Khan; but the Newab speedily joined him; and soon
afterwards, in the midst of an engagement in the near neighbourhood
of Caubul, the troops of Ameen-oolah-Khan went over bodily to Dost
Mahomed; and the son of Azim Khan sought safety within the walls of the
Balla Hissar.
Dost Mahomed, having occupied the city, invested the citadel, and
would, in all probability, have carried everything before him, if
the Candahar chiefs, alarmed by the successes of their brother, and
dreading the growth of a power which threatened their own extinction,
had not moved out to the ostensible assistance of their nephew. Dost
Mahomed retreated into the Kohistan, but the unfortunate Habib-oolah
soon found that he had gained nothing by such an alliance. His uncles
enticed him to a meeting outside the city, seized him, carried him
off to the Loghur country; then took possession of the Balla Hissar,
and appropriated all his treasure. Dost Mahomed, however, was soon in
arms again, and the Peshawur brothers were before Caubul. The affairs
of the empire were then thrown into a state of terrible confusion.
The Barukzye brothers were all fighting among themselves for the
largest share of sovereignty; but it is said that “their followers
have been engaged in deadly strife when the rival leaders were sitting
together over a plate of cherries.” To this fraternal cherry-eating,
it would appear that Dost Mahomed was not admitted.[76] Sitting over
their fruit, his brothers came to the determination of alluring him
to an interview, and then either blinding or murdering him. The plot
was laid; everything was arranged for the destruction of the Sirdar;
but Hadjee Khan Kakur, who subsequently distinguished himself as a
traitor of no slight accomplishments, having discovered in time that
Dost Mahomed was backed by the strongest party in Caubul, gave him a
significant hint, at the proper moment, and the Sirdar escaped with
his life. After a few more fraternal schemes of mutual extermination,
the brothers entered into a compact by which the government of Ghuzni
and the Kohistan was secured to Dost Mahomed, whilst Sultan Mahomed of
Peshawur succeeded to the sovereignty of Caubul.
The truce was but of short duration. Shere Dil Khan, the most
influential of the Candahar brothers, died. A dangerous rival was
thus swept away from the path of Dost Mahomed. The Kuzzilbashes, soon
afterwards, gave in their adherence to him; and thus aided, he felt
himself in a position to strike another blow for the recovery of
Caubul. Sultan Mahomed had done nothing to strengthen himself at the
capital. Summoned either to surrender or to defend himself, he deemed
it more prudent to negotiate. Consenting to retire on Peshawur, he
marched out of one gate of Caubul whilst Dost Mahomed marched in at
another, and the followers of the latter shouted out a derisive adieu
to the departing chief.
From this time (1826) to the day on which his followers deserted him
at Urghandi, after the capture of Ghuzni by the British troops, Dost
Mahomed was supreme at Caubul. His brothers saw that it was useless to
contest the supremacy; and at last they acknowledged the unequalled
power of one whom they had once slighted and despised. And now was
it that Dost Mahomed began fully to understand the responsibilities
of high command, and the obligations of a ruler both to himself and
his subjects. He had hitherto lived the life of a dissolute soldier.
His education had been neglected, and in his very boyhood he had been
thrown in the way of pollution of the foulest kind. From his youth he
had been greatly addicted to wine, and was often to be seen in public
reeling along in a state of degrading intoxication, or scarcely able
to keep his place in the saddle. All this was now to be reformed.
He taught himself to read and to write, accomplishments which he had
before, if at all, scantily possessed. He studied the Koran, abandoned
the use of strong liquors, became scrupulously abstemious, plain in his
attire, assiduous in his attention to business, urbane, and courteous
to all. He made a public acknowledgment of his past errors and a
profession of reformation, and did not belie by his life the promises
which he openly made.[77]
It is not to be questioned that there was, at this time, in the conduct
of Dost Mahomed, as a ruler, much that may be regarded with admiration
and respect even by Christian men. Success did not disturb the balance
of his mind, nor power harden his heart. Simple in his habits, and
remarkably affable in his manner, he was accessible to the meanest of
his subjects. Ever ready to listen to their complaints and to redress
their grievances, he seldom rode abroad without being accosted in
the public streets or highways by citizen or by peasant waiting to
lay before the Sirdar a history of his grievances or his sufferings,
and to ask for assistance or redress. And he never passed the
petitioner—never rode on, but would rein in his horse, listen patiently
to the complaints of the meanest of his subjects, and give directions
to his attendants to take the necessary steps to render justice to the
injured, or to alleviate the sufferings of the distressed. Such was his
love of equity, indeed, that people asked, “Is Dost Mahomed dead that
there is no justice?”
He is even said, by those who knew him well, to have been kindly and
humane—an assertion which many who have read the history of his early
career will receive with an incredulous smile. But no one who fairly
estimates the character of Afghan history and Afghan morals, and the
necessities, personal and political, of all who take part in such
stirring scenes, can fail to perceive that his vices were rather the
growth of circumstances than of any extraordinary badness of heart.
Dost Mahomed was not by nature cruel; but once embarked in the strife
of Afghan politics, a man must fight it out or die. Every man’s hand
is against him, and he must turn his hand against every man. There
is no middle course open to him. If he would save himself, he must
cast his scruples to the winds. Even when seated most securely on the
musnud, an Afghan ruler must commit many acts abhorrent to our ideas of
humanity. He must rule with vigour, or not at all. That Dost Mahomed,
during the twelve years of supremacy which he enjoyed at Caubul, often
resorted, for the due maintenance of his power, to measures of severity
incompatible with the character of a humane ruler, is only to say that
for twelve years he retained his place at the head of affairs. Such
rigour is inseparable from the government of such a people. We cannot
rein wild horses with silken braids.
Upon one particular phase of Barukzye policy it is necessary to speak
more in detail. Under the Suddozye Kings, pampered and privileged,
the Douranee tribes had waxed arrogant and overbearing, and had, in
time, erected themselves into a power capable of shaping the destinies
of the empire. With one hand they held down the people, and with the
other menaced the throne. Their sudden change of fortune seems to
have unhinged and excited them. Bearing their new honours with little
meekness, and exercising their new powers with little moderation,
they revenged their past sufferings on the unhappy people whom they
had supplanted, and, partly by fraud, partly by extortion, stripped
the native cultivators of the last remnant of property left to them
on the new allocation of the lands. In the revolutions which had rent
the country throughout the early years of the century, it had been
the weight of Douranee influence which had ever turned the scale.
They held, indeed, the crown at their disposal, and, seeking their
own aggrandisement, were sure to array themselves on the side of the
prince who was most liberal of his promises to the tribes. The danger
of nourishing such a power as this was not overlooked by the sagacious
minds of the Barukzye rulers. They saw clearly the policy of treading
down the Douranees, and soon began to execute it.
In the revolution which had overthrown the Suddozye dynasty, the
tribes had taken no active part, and the Barukzye Sirdars had risen to
power neither by their aid nor in spite of their opposition. A long
succession of sanguinary civil wars, which had deprived them, one by
one, of the leaders to whom they looked for guidance and support, had
so enfeeble and prostrated them, that but a remnant of their former
power was left. No immediate apprehension of danger from such a source
darkened the dawn of the Barukzye brethren’s career. But to be cast
down was not to be broken—to be enfeebled was not to be extinct. There
was too much elasticity and vitality in the order for such accidents as
this to subject it to more than temporary decline. The Douranees were
still a privileged class; still were they fattening upon the immunities
granted them by the Suddozye Kings. To curtail these privileges and
immunities would be to strike at the source of their dominant influence
and commanding strength; and the Barukzye Sirdars, less chivalrous than
wise, determined to strike the blow, whilst the Douranees, crippled and
exhausted, had little power to resist the attack. Even then they did
not venture openly and directly to assail the privileges of the tribes
by imposing an assessment on their lands in lieu of the obligation to
supply horsemen for the service of the state—an obligation which had
for some time past been practically relaxed—but they began cautiously
and insidiously to introduce “the small end of the wedge,” by taxing
the Ryots, or Humsayehs of the Douranees, whose various services,
not only as cultivators but as artificers, had rendered them in the
estimation of their powerful masters a valuable kind of property, to
be protected from foreign tyranny that they might better bear their
burdens at home. These taxes were enforced with a rigour intended to
offend the Douranee chiefs; but the trials to which they were then
subjected but faintly foreshadowed the greater trials to come.
Little by little, the Barukzye Sirdars began to attach such vexatious
conditions to the privileges of the Douranees—so to make them run the
gauntlet of all kinds of exactions short of the direct assessment of
their lands—that in time, harassed, oppressed, impoverished by these
more irregular imposts, and anticipating every day the development of
some new form of tyranny and extortion, they were glad to exchange
them for an assessment of a more fixed and definite character. From a
minute detail of the measures adopted by the Barukzye Sirdars, with
the double object of raising revenue and breaking down the remaining
strength of the Douranees, the reader would turn away with weariness
and impatience; but this matter of Douranee taxation has too much to do
with the after-history of the war in Afghanistan, for me to pass it by
without at least this slight recognition of its importance.
In the heyday of their prosperity, the Douranees had been too arrogant
and unscrupulous to claim from us commiseration in the hour of their
decline. The Barukzye Sirdars held them down with a strong hand; and
the policy was at least successful. It was mainly the humiliation
of these once dominant tribes that secured to Dost Mahomed and his
brothers so many years of comparative security and rest. Slight
disorders, such as are inseparable from the constitution of Afghan
society—a rebellion in one part of the country, the necessity of
coercing a recusant governor in another—occasionally distracted the
mind of the Sirdar from the civil administration of Caubul. But it was
not until the year 1834 that he was called upon to face a more pressing
danger, and to prepare himself for a more vigorous contest. The exiled
Suddozye Prince, Shah Soojah, weary again of inactivity, and undaunted
by past failure, was about to make another effort to re-establish
himself in the Douranee Empire; and, with this object, was organising
an army in Sindh.
Had there been any sort of unanimity among the Barukzye brothers, this
invasion might have been laughed to scorn; but Dost Mahomed felt that
there was treachery within, no less than hostility without, and that
the open enemy was not more dangerous than the concealed one. Jubbar
Khan, Zemaun Khan, and others, were known to be intriguing with the
Shah. The Newab, indeed, had gone so far as to assure Dost Mahomed that
it was useless to oppose the Suddozye invasion, as Soojah-ool-Moolk was
assisted by the British Government, and would certainly be victorious.
He implored the Sirdar to pause before he brought down upon himself
certain destruction, alleging that it would be better to make terms
with the Shah—to secure something rather than to lose everything. But
Dost Mahomed knew his man—knew that Jubbar Khan had thrown himself into
the arms of the Suddozye, laughed significantly, and said, “Lala, it
will be time enough to talk about terms when I have been beaten.” This
was unanswerable. The Newab retired; and preparations for war were
carried on with renewed activity.
In the mean while, Shah Soojah was girding himself up for the coming
struggle with the Barukzye Sirdars. In 1831 he had sought the
assistance of Runjeet Singh towards the recovery of his lost dominions;
but the Maharajah had set such an extravagant price upon his alliance,
that the negotiations fell to the ground without any results.[78] The
language of the Sikh ruler had been insolent and dictatorial. He had
treated the Shah as a fallen prince, and endeavoured, in the event of
his restoration, to reduce him to a state of vassalage so complete,
that even the prostrate Suddozye resented the humiliating attempt.
The idea of making another effort to regain his lost dominions had,
however, taken such shape in his mind, that it was not to be lightly
abandoned. But empires are not to be won without money, and the Shah
was lamentably poor. Jewels he had to the value of two or three lakhs
of rupees; and he was eager to pledge them. But the up-country bankers
were slow to make the required advances. “If 1000 rupees be required,”
said the Shah, “these persons will ask a pledge in property of a lakh
of rupees.” From the obdurate bankers he turned, in his distress, to
the British Government; but the British Government was equally obdurate.
In vain the exiled Shah pleaded that the people of Afghanistan were
anxious for his arrival; and that those of Khorassan would flock to
his standard and acknowledge no other chief. In vain he declared that
the Barukzye Sirdars were “not people around whom the Afghans would
rally”—that they had no authority beyond the streets and bazaars of
Caubul, and no power to resist an enemy advancing from the northward.
Neither up-country bankers nor British functionaries would advance him
the requisite funds. “My impatience,” he said, “exceeds all bounds;
and if I can raise a loan of two or three lakhs of rupees from any
banker, I entertain every expectation that, with the favour of God, my
object will be accomplished.” But although the Persians were at that
time pushing their conquests in Khorassan, and the Shah continued to
declare that the Douranee, Ghilzye, and other tribes, were sighing for
his advent, which was to relieve them from the tyranny and oppression
of the Barukzyes, and to secure them against foreign invasion, Lord
William Bentinck, too intent upon domestic reforms to busy himself with
schemes of distant defence, quietly smiled down the solicitations of
the Shah, and told him to do what he liked on his own account, but that
the British Government would not help him to do it. “My friend,” he
wrote, “I deem it my duty to apprise you distinctly, that the British
Government religiously abstains from intermeddling with the affairs of
its neighbours when this can be avoided. Your Majesty is, of course,
master of your own actions; but to afford you assistance for the
purpose which you have in contemplation, would not consist with that
neutrality which on such occasions is the rule of guidance adopted
by the British Government.” But, in spite of these discouragements,
before the year 1832 had worn to a close, Shah Soojah “had resolved on
quitting his asylum at Loodhianah for the purpose of making another
attempt to regain his throne.”
The British agent on the north-western frontier, Captain Wade,
officially reported this to Mr. Macnaghten, who then held the office
of Political Secretary; and with the announcement went a request, on
the part of the Shah, for three months of his stipend in advance. The
request, at a later period, rose to a _six_ months’ advance; and a
compromise was eventually effected for _four_. So, with 16,000 rupees
extracted as a forestalment of the allowance granted to his family in
his absence, he set out for the re-conquest of the Douranee Empire.
On the 28th of January, 1833, he quitted his residence at Loodhianah,
and endeavouring, as he went, to raise money and to enlist troops for
his projected expedition, moved his camp slowly to Bahwulpore, and
thence, across the Indus, to Shikarpoor, where he had determined to
rendezvous.
But having thus entered the territory of the Ameers of Sindh as a
friend, he did not quit it before he had shown his quality as an
enemy, by fighting a hard battle with the Sindhians, and effectually
beating them. The pecuniary demands which he had made upon them they
had resisted; and the Shah having a considerable army at his command,
deeply interested in the event, thought fit to enforce obedience. Early
in January, 1834, an engagement took place near Rori, and the pride of
the Ameers having been humbled by defeat, they consented to the terms
he demanded, and acknowledged the supremacy of the Shah.[79]
Having arranged this matter to his satisfaction, Shah Soojah marched
upon Candahar, and in the early summer was before the walls of the
city. He invested the place, and endeavoured ineffectually to carry it
by assault. The Candahar chiefs held out with much resolution, but it
was not until the arrival of Dost Mahomed from Caubul that a general
action was risked. The Sirdar lost no time in commencing the attack.
Akbar Khan, the chief’s son, who, at a later period, stood out so
prominently from the canvas of his country’s history, was at the head
of the Barukzye horse; Abdul Samat Khan[80] commanded the foot. No
great amount of military skill appears to have been displayed on either
side. Akbar Khan’s horsemen charged the enemy with a dashing gallantry
worthy of their impetuous leader; but a battalion of the Shah’s troops,
under an Indo-Briton, named Campbell, fought with such uncommon energy,
that at one time the forces of the Barukzye chiefs were driven back,
and victory appeared to be in the reach of the Shah. But Dost Mahomed,
who had intently watched the conflict, and kept a handful of chosen
troops in reserve, now let them slip, rallied the battalions which
were falling back, called upon Akbar Khan to make one more struggle,
and, well responded to by his gallant son, rolled back the tide of
victory. Shah Soojah, who on the first appearance of Dost Mahomed had
lost all heart, and actually given orders to prepare for flight, called
out in his desperation to Campbell, “Chupao-chupao,”[81] then ordered
his elephant to be wheeled round, and turned his back upon the field
of battle. His irresolution and the unsteadfastness of the Douranees
proved fatal to his cause.
The Douranee tribes had looked upon the advance of the King with
evident satisfaction. Trodden down and crushed as they had been by the
Barukzyes, they would have rejoiced in the success of the royal cause.
But they had not the power to secure it. Depressed and enfeebled by
long years of tyranny, they brought only the shadow of their former
selves to the standard of the Suddozye monarch. Without horses, without
arms, without discipline, without heart to sustain them upon any great
enterprise, and without leaders to inspire them with the courage
they lacked themselves, the Douranees went into the field a feeble,
broken-spirited rabble. Had they been assured of the success of the
enterprise, they would at least have assumed a bold front, and flung
all their influence, such as it was, into the scales on the side of
the returned Suddozye; but remembering the iron rule and the unsparing
vengeance of the Barukzye Sirdars, they dreaded the consequences of
failure, and when the crisis arrived, either stood aloof from the
contest, or shamefully apostatised at the last.
The few, indeed, who really joined the royal standard contrived to
defeat the enterprise; for whilst the Shah’s Hindostanees were engaging
the enemy in front, the Douranees, moved by an irrepressible avidity
for plunder, fell upon the baggage in the rear, and created such a
panic in the ranks that the whole army turned and fled. It was not
possible to rally them. The battle was lost. The Barukzye troops
pushed forward. Campbell, who had fallen like a brave man, covered
with wounds, was taken prisoner, with others of the Shah’s principal
officers; and all the guns, stores, and camp-equippage of the Suddozye
Prince fell into the hands of the victors. The scenes of plunder and
carnage which ensued are said to have been terrible. The Shah fled to
Furrah, and thence by the route of Seistan and Shorawuk to Kelat. The
Candahar chiefs urged the pursuit of the fugitive, but Dost Mahomed
opposed the measure, and the unfortunate Prince was suffered to escape.
But scarcely had the Sirdar returned to Caubul when he found himself
compelled to prepare for a new and more formidable enterprise. Runjeet
Singh was in possession of Peshawur. The treachery of Sultan Mahomed
Khan and his brothers had rebounded upon themselves, and they had
lost the province which had been the object of so much intrigue and
contention. In their anxiety to destroy Dost Mahomed, they opened a
communication with the Sikhs, who advanced to Peshawur ostensibly as
friends, and then took possession of the city.[82] Sultan Mahomed Khan
ignominiously fled. The Sikh army under Hurree Singh consisted only of
9000 men, and had the Afghans been commanded by a competent leader they
might have driven back a far stronger force, and retained possession
of the place. The Peshawur chiefs were everlastingly disgraced, and
Peshawur lost to the Afghans for ever.
But Dost Mahomed could not submit patiently to this. Exasperated
against Runjeet Singh, and indignant at the fatuous conduct of his
brothers, he determined on declaring a religious war against the Sikhs,
and began with characteristic energy to organise a force sufficiently
strong to wrest Peshawur from the hands of the usurpers. To strengthen
his influence he assumed, at this time, the title of Ameer-al-Mominin
(commander of the faithful[83]), and exerted himself to inflame the
breasts of his followers with that burning Mahomedan zeal which has
so often impelled the disciples of the Prophet to deeds of the most
consummate daring and most heroic self-abandonment. Money was now to be
obtained, and to obtain it much extortion was, doubtless, practised. An
Afghan chief has a rude and somewhat arbitrary manner of levying rates
and taxes. Dost Mahomed made no exception in his conduct to “the good
old rule,” which had so long, in critical conjunctures, been observed
in that part of the world. He took all that he could get, raised a very
respectable force, coined money in his own name, and then prepared for
battle.
At the head of an imposing array of fighting men, the Ameer marched
out of Caubul. He had judged wisely. The declaration of war against
the infidel—war proclaimed in the name of the Prophet—had brought
thousands to his banner; and ever as he marched the great stream of
humanity seemed to swell and swell, as new tributaries came pouring in
from every part, and the thousands became tens of thousands. From the
Kohistan, from the hills beyond, from the regions of the Hindoo-Koosh,
from the remoter fastnesses of Toorkistan, multitudes of various tribes
and denominations, moved by various impulses, but all noisily boasting
their true Mahomedan zeal, came flocking in to the Ameer’s standard.
Ghilzyes and Kohistanees, sleek Kuzzilbashes and rugged Oosbegs,
horsemen and foot-men, all who could wield a sword or lift a matchlock,
obeyed the call in the name of the Prophet. “Savages from the remotest
recesses of the mountainous districts,” wrote one, who saw this strange
congeries of Mussulman humanity,[84] “who were dignified with the
profession of the Mahomedan faith, many of them giants in form and
strength, promiscuously armed with sword and shield, bows and arrows,
matchlocks, rifles, spears and blunderbusses, concentrated themselves
around the standard of religion, and were prepared to slay, plunder,
and destroy, for the sake of God and the Prophet, the unenlighted
infidels of the Punjab.”
The Mussulman force reached Peshawur. The brave heart of Runjeet Singh
quailed before this immense assemblage, and he at once determined not
to meet it openly in the field. There was in his camp a man named
Harlan, an American adventurer, now a doctor and now a general, who was
ready to take any kind of service with any one disposed to pay him, and
to do any kind of work at the instance of his master.[85] Clever and
unscrupulous, he was a fit agent to do the Maharajah’s bidding. Runjeet
despatched him as an envoy to the Afghan camp. He went ostensibly to
negotiate with Dost Mahomed; in reality to corrupt his supporters. “On
the occasion,” he says, with as little sense of shame as though he had
been performing an exploit of the highest merit, “of Dost Mahomed’s
visit to Peshawur, which occurred during the period of my service with
Runjeet Singh, I was despatched by the Prince as ambassador to the
Ameer. I divided his brothers against him, exciting their jealousy of
his growing power, and exasperating the family feuds with which, from
my previous acquaintance, I was familiar, and stirred up the feudal
lords of his durbar, with the prospects of pecuniary advantages. I
induced his brother, Sultan Mahomed Khan, the lately deposed chief
of Peshawur, with 10,000 retainers, to withdraw suddenly from his
camp about nightfall. The chief accompanied me towards the Sikh camp,
whilst his followers fled to their mountain fastnesses. So large a
body retiring from the Ameer’s control, in opposition to his will and
without previous intimation, threw the general camp into inextricable
confusion, which terminated in the clandestine rout of his forces,
without beat of drum, or sound of bugle, or the trumpet’s blast, in
the quiet stillness of midnight. At daybreak no vestige of the Afghan
camp was seen, where six hours before 50,000 men and 10,000 horses,
with all the busy host of attendants, were rife with the tumult of wild
emotion.”[86]
Thus was this great expedition, so promising at the outset, brought
prematurely to a disastrous close. Treachery broke up, in a single
night, a vast army which Runjeet Singh had contemplated with dismay.
The Ameer, with the _débris_ of his force, preserving his guns, but
sacrificing much of his camp-equipage, fell back upon Caubul, reseated
himself quietly in the Balla Hissar, and, in bitterness of spirit,
declaiming against the emptiness of military renown, plunged deeply
into the study of the Koran.
From this pleasant abstraction from warlike pursuits, the Ameer was,
after a time, aroused by a well grounded report to the effect that
Sultan Mahomed had been again intriguing with the Sikhs, and that a
plan had been arranged for the passage of a Punjabee force through the
Khybur Pass, with the ultimate intention of moving upon Caubul. An
expedition was accordingly fitted out, in the spring of 1837; but the
Ameer, having sufficient confidence in his sons Afzul Khan and Mahomed
Abkar, sent the Sirdars in charge of the troops with Meerza Samad
Khan, his minister, as their adviser. The Afghan forces laid siege
to Jumrood, and on the 30th of April Hurree Singh came from Peshawur
to its relief. An action took place, in which both the young Sirdars
greatly distinguished themselves, and Shumshoodeen Khan’s conduct was
equally conspicuous. The Sikh chieftain, Hurree Singh, was slain, and
his disheartened troops fell back and entrenched themselves under the
walls of Jumrood. Akbar Khan proposed to follow up the victory by
dashing on to Peshawur; but the Meerza, who, according to Mr. Masson,
had, during the action, “secreted himself in some cave or sheltered
recess, where, in despair, he sobbed, beat his breast, tore his beard,
and knocked his head upon the ground,” now made his appearance,
declaring that his prayers had been accepted, and “entreated the
boasting young man to be satisfied with what he had done.” The advice
was sufficiently sound, whatever may have been the motives which
dictated it. Strong Sikh reinforcements soon appeared in sight, and the
Afghan army was compelled to retire. The battle of Jumrood was long a
theme of national exultation. Akbar Khan plumed himself greatly on the
victory, and was unwilling to share the honours of the day with his
less boastful brother. But it was not a very glorious achievement, and
it may be doubted whether Afzul Khan did not really distinguish himself
even more than his associate. In one respect, however, it was a heavy
blow to the Maharajah. Runjeet Singh had lost one of his best officers
and dearest friends. The death of Hurree Singh was never forgotten or
forgiven.
The loss of Peshawur rankled deeply in the mind of Dost Mahomed. The
empire of Ahmed Shah had been rapidly falling to pieces beneath the
heavy blows of the Sikh spoliator. The wealthy provinces of Cashmere
and Mooltan had been wrested from the Douranees in the time of the
Suddozye Princes, and now the same unsparing hand had amputated another
tract of country, to the humiliation of the Barukzye Sirdars. The
Ameer, in bitterness of spirit, bewailed the loss of territory, and
burned to resent the affront. In spite, however, of the boasted victory
of Jumrood, he had little inclination to endeavour to wrest the lost
territory, by force of arms, from the grasp of the Sikh usurpers.
Mistrusting his own strength, in this conjuncture he turned his
thoughts towards foreign aid. Willing to form almost any alliance so
long as this great end was to be gained, he now looked towards Persia
for assistance, and now invited the friendly aid of the British. It
was in the autumn of this year, 1837, that two events, which mightily
affected the future destinies of Dost Mahomed, were canvassed in the
bazaars of Caubul. A British emissary was about to arrive at the Afghan
capital; and a Persian army was advancing upon the Afghan frontier.
Before the first snows had fallen, Captain Burnes was residing at
Caubul, and Mahomed Shah was laying siege to Herat.[87]