[1810-1837.]
Later Events in Persia—The Treaty of Goolistan—Arrival of Sir Gore
Ouseley—Mr. Morier and Mr. Ellis—The Definitive Treaty—The War of
1826-27—The Treaty of Toorkomanchai—Death of Futteh Ali Shah—Accession
of Mahomed Shah—His Projects of Ambition—The Expedition against Herat.
It is necessary now to revert, for a little space, to the progress of
affairs in Western Asia. Whilst the Suddozye Princes in Afghanistan
had been gradually relaxing their hold of the Douranee Empire, Persia
had been still struggling against Russian encroachment—still entangled
in the meshes of a long and harassing war. Though enfeebled by the
paramount necessity of concentrating the resources of the empire on
the great European contest, which demanded the assertion of all her
military strength, the aggressive tendencies of the great northern
power were not to be entirely controlled. Little could she think of
remote acquisitions of territory in Georgia, whilst the eagles of
Napoleon were threatening her very existence at the gates of Moscow
itself. Still with little intermission, up to the year 1813, the war
dragged languidly on. Then the good offices of Great Britain were
successfully employed for the re-establishment of friendly relations
between the two contending powers;[88] and a treaty, known as the
treaty of Goolistan, was negotiated between them. By this treaty
Persia ceded to Russia all her acquisitions on the south of the
Caucasus, and agreed to maintain no naval force on the Caspian sea;
whilst Russia entered into a vague engagement to support, in the event
of a disputed succession, the claims of the heir-apparent against all
competitors for the throne.
During these wars, which were carried on with varying success, the
Persian troops upon more than one occasion had been led to the charge
by English officers of approved gallantry and skill. Accompanying
General Malcolm to Persia in 1810, they were retained in the country
by Sir Harford Jones; and were very soon busily employed in drilling
and disciplining the infantry and artillery of the Persian Prince.[89]
Of these officers, the most conspicuous were Captain Christie and
Lieutenant Lindsay, who led into the field the battalions which they
had instructed, and more than once turned the tide of victory against
their formidable European opponents.[90]
In the mean while, Sir Harford Jones had been succeeded in the Persian
embassy by Sir Gore Ouseley, who in the summer of 1811 reached Teheran
in the character of Ambassador Extraordinary from the King of England.
The preliminary treaty which Jones had negotiated, was now to be
wrought into a definitive one. It was somewhat modified in the process.
The new treaty was more liberal than the old. In the preliminary
articles relating to the subsidy, it had been set down that the amount
should be regulated in the definitive treaty; but it was understood
between the British and the Persian plenipotentiary, that the amount
was on no account to exceed 160,000 tomauns, and that the manner in
which it was to be afforded should be left to the discretion of the
British Government. But in the definitive treaty the amount was fixed
at 200,000 tomauns (or about 150,000_l._); and a special article was
introduced, setting forth that “since it is the custom of Persia to pay
her troops six months in advance, the English ambassador shall do all
in his power to pay the subsidy granted in lieu of troops, in as early
instalments as may be convenient and practicable,”—a pleasant fiction,
of which it has been said, with truth, that it might “well be taken for
a burlesque.”
On the 14th of March, 1812, this treaty was signed by Sir Gore Ouseley,
Mahomed Shefi, and Mahomed Hassan; and a week afterwards, the British
ambassador wrote to inform the Court of Directors of the East India
Company that “the good effects of the definitive treaty, and the proofs
of the confidence with which it has inspired the Shah, are already
manifest.” The Persian monarch, having declared his fixed determination
to strengthen Abbas Meerza to the utmost of his ability, by raising
for him a disciplined army of 50,000 men, requested Sir Gore Ouseley
to obtain for him, with the utmost possible despatch, 30,000 stands
of English muskets and accoutrements, the price of which was to be
deducted from the subsidy. “The Shah,” wrote the envoy, “has further
promised me, that this large deduction from the subsidy shall be made
up, through me, to Abbas Meerza’s army from the royal coffers, so that
we may congratulate ourselves on having worked a wonderful (and, by
many, unexpected) alteration in the Shah’s general sentiments.”[91]
Sir Gore Ouseley returned to England, leaving his secretary, Mr.
Morier, in charge of the Mission; but before the treaty was finally
accepted, it was modified by the British Government, and Mr. Henry
Ellis was despatched to Persia, in 1814, to negotiate these alterations
at the Persian Court. A comparison of the treaty, signed by Sir Gore
Ouseley, with that which was subsequently accepted, will show that
the alterations, which were very considerable in respect of words,
were less so in respect of substance. The most important conditions
of the treaty are to be found in both documents. But the progress of
events had rendered it necessary to expunge certain passages from the
treaty negotiated by Sir Gore Ouseley. For example, the 7th article of
that treaty provided, that “should the King of Persia form magazines
of materials for ship-building on the coast of the Caspian Sea, and
resolve to establish a naval force, the King of England shall grant
permission to naval officers, seamen, shipwrights, carpenters, &c., to
proceed to Persia from London and Bombay, and to enter the service of
the King of Persia—the pay of such officers, artificers, &c., shall be
given by his Persian Majesty at the rates which may be agreed upon with
the English ambassador.”[92] But by the treaty of Goolistan, Persia
engaged not to maintain a naval force on the Caspian. The article,
therefore, was necessarily expunged.
On the 25th of November, the definitive treaty, which was finally
accepted, was concluded at Teheran by Messrs. Morier and Ellis. It was
declared to be strictly defensive. The plan of defence thus marked out
was more extensive than practicable. It bound the Persian Government to
engage “not to allow any European army to enter the Persian territory,
nor to proceed towards India, nor to any of the ports of that country;
and also to engage not to allow any individuals of such European
nations, entertaining a design of invading India, or being at enmity
with Great Britain, whatever, to enter Persia.” “Should any European
powers,” it was added, “wish to invade India by the road of Khorassan,
Tartaristan, Bokhara, Samarcand, or other routes, his Persian Majesty
engages to induce the kings and governors of those countries to oppose
such invasion as much as is in his power, either by the fear of his
arms or by conciliatory measures.” In the third article it is laid
down, that “the limits of the territories of the two states of Russia
and Persia shall be determined according to the admission of Great
Britain, Persia, and Russia”—a stipulation of an extraordinary and,
perhaps, unexampled character, inasmuch as Russia had not consented to
this mode of adjudication. The eighth and ninth articles related to
Afghanistan, and are contained in the following words:
VIII. “Should the Afghans be at war with the British nation, his
Persian Majesty engages to send an army against them, in such manner,
and of such force, as may be concerted with the English Government. The
expenses of such an army shall be defrayed by the British Government,
in such manner as may be agreed upon at the period of its being
required.”
IX. “If war should be declared between the Afghans and Persians, the
English Government shall not interfere with either party, unless their
mediation to effect a peace shall be solicited by both parties.”[93]
One more clause of the definitive treaty calls for notice in this
place. In Article VI., it is covenanted that “should any European
power be engaged in war with Persia, when at peace with England, his
Britannic Majesty engages to use his best endeavours to bring Persia
and such European power to a friendly understanding.” “If however,” it
is added, “his Majesty’s cordial interference should fail of success,
England shall still, if required, in conformity with the stipulations
in the preceding articles, send a force from India, or, in lieu
thereof, pay an annual subsidy (200,000 tomauns) for the support of a
Persian army, so long as a war in the supposed case shall continue,
and until Persia shall make peace with such nation.” By this article
we, in effect, pledged ourselves to support Persia in her wars with
Russia, even though we should be at peace with the latter state. By
the convention of Goolistan, it is true that amicable relations had
been re-established between the Russian and Persian Governments;
but these relations were likely at any time to be interrupted; and
it was not difficult to perceive, that, before long, the aggressive
policy of Russia would again bring that state into collision with its
Persian neighbour. The article, in reality, exposed us at least to the
probability of a war with Russia; and laid down the doctrine that
every future aggression of the latter against the dominions of the
Persian Shah was to be regarded in the light of a hostile demonstration
against our Indian possessions.
For some time there was little to disturb the even current of affairs,
or to change the character of our relations towards the Persian state.
It was the policy of Great Britain, by strengthening the military
resources of the country, to render Persia an insurmountable barrier
against the invasion of India by any European army. But by this time
France had ceased to be formidable; and what was ostensibly defence
against the powers of Europe, was, in reality, defence against the
ambition of the Czar. It is doubtful, however, how far our policy was
successful. We supplied the Persian army with English arms and English
discipline; our officers drilled the native troops after the newest
European fashions, and for some time the Crown Prince, Abbas Meerza,
was delighted with his new plaything. But the best-informed authorities
concur in opinion that the experiment was a failure; and that the real
military strength of the empire was not augmented by this infusion
of English discipline into the raw material of the Persian army.[94]
It has been said, indeed, and with undeniable truth, by one who was
himself for many years among the instructors of the Persian army, that
“when Persia again came into collision with Russia in 1826, her means
and power as a military nation were positively inferior to those which
she possessed at the close of her former struggle.”
From the date of the convention of Goolistan, up to the year 1826,
there was at least an outward observance of peace between the Russian
and Persian states. The peace, however, was but a hollow one, destined
soon to be broken. The irritation of a disputed boundary had ever
since the ratification of the treaty of Goolistan kept the two states
in a restless, unsettled condition of ill-disguised animosity; and
now it broke out at last into acts of mutual defiance. It is hard to
say whether Russia or Persia struck the first unpardonable blow. The
conduct of the former had been insolent and offensive—designed perhaps
to goad the weaker state into open resentment, and to furnish a pretext
for new wars, to be followed by new acquisitions of Eastern territory.
Both parties were prepared, by a long series of mutual provocations,
for the now inevitable contest. It needed very little to bring them
into open collision.
In Georgia there had been frightful misrule. The officers of the
Christian government had wantonly and insanely outraged the religious
feelings of its Mussulman subjects; and now an outburst of fierce
Mahomedan zeal in the adjoining kingdom declared how dangerous had
been the interference. The Moollahs of Persia rose as one man. Under
pain of everlasting infamy and everlasting perdition, they called upon
the Shah to resent the insults which had been put upon their religion.
The mosques rang with excited appeals to the feelings of all true
believers; and every effort was made by the excited ecclesiastics to
stimulate the temporal authorities to the declaration of a holy war.
The King, however, shrank from the contest. He had no ambition to
face again in the field the formidable European enemy who had so
often scattered the flower of the Persian army, and trodden over the
necks of the vanquished to the acquisition of new dominions. But the
importunity of the Moollahs was not to be withstood. He pledged himself
that if Gokchah—one of the disputed tracts of country occupied by the
Russians—were not restored, he would declare war against the Muscovite
power. Convinced that the Russian Government would yield this strip
of land, acquired as it was without justice, and retained without
profit, the Shah believed that the condition was, in effect, an evasion
of the pledge. The error was soon manifest. It was not in the nature
of Russia to yield an inch of country righteously or unrighteously
acquired—profitably or unprofitably retained. Gokchah was not restored.
The Moollahs became more and more clamorous. The Shah was threatened
with the forfeiture of all claims to paradisaical bliss: and the war
was commenced.
Excited by the appeals of the Moollahs, the Persians flung themselves
into the contest with all the ardour and ferocity of men burning to
wipe out in the blood of their enemies the insults and indignities that
had been heaped upon them. They rose up and massacred all the isolated
Russian garrisons and outposts in their reach. Abbas Meerza took the
field at the head of an army of 40,000 men; and at the opening of the
campaign the disputed territory of Gokchah, with Balikloo and Aberan,
were recovered by their old masters.
These successes, however, were but short-lived. The son of the
Prince Royal, Mahomed Meerza, a youth more impetuous than skilful
in the field, soon plunged the divisions he commanded into a sea of
overwhelming disaster. The Prince himself, not more fortunate, was
in the same month of September, 1826, beaten by the Russian General,
Paskewitch, in open battle, with a loss of 1200 men. The war was
resumed in the following spring, and continued throughout the year
with varying success; but the close of it witnessed the triumph of the
Russians. Erivan and Tabreez fell into their hands.[95] Enfeebled and
dispirited, the Persians shrunk from the continuance of the struggle.
The intervention of Great Britain was gladly accepted, and Persia
submitted to the terms of a humiliating peace.
After some protracted negotiations, a new treaty, superseding that
of Goolistan, was signed at Toorkomanchai, in February, 1828, by
General Paskewitch and Abbas Meerza. By this treaty, Persia ceded to
the Czar the Khanates of Erivan and Nakhichevan; and consented to the
recognition of the line of frontier dictated by the Russian Government.
The frontier line between the two empires, laid down in the fourth
article of the treaty, commenced at the first of the Ottoman States
nearest to the little Ararat mountain, which it crossed to the south of
the Lower Karasson, following the course of that river till it falls
into the Araxes opposite Sherour, and then extending along the latter
river as far as Abbas-Abad.[96] The line of frontier then followed
the course of the Araxes to a point twenty-one wersts beyond the ford
of Ledl-boulak, when it struck off in a straight line drawn across
the plain of Moghan, to the bed of the river Bolgaron, twenty-one
wersts above the point of confluence of the two Rivers Adinabazar
and Sarakamyshe; then passing over the summit of Ojilkoir and other
mountains, it extended to the source of the River Atara, and followed
the stream until it falls into the Caspian Sea.
Such was the boundary laid down in the treaty of Toorkomanchai. The
other articles granted an indemnity to Russia of eighty millions of
roubles for the expenses of the war—yielded to that state the sole
right of having armed vessels on the Caspian—recognised the inheritance
of Abbas Meerza—and granted an amnesty to the inhabitants of Aderbijan.
To Persia this treaty was deeply humiliating; but the manifestoes of
the Emperor, with characteristic mendacity, boasted of its moderation,
and declared that its ends were merely the preservation of peace and
the promotion of commerce. “For us,” it was said, “one of the principal
results of this peace consists in the security which it gives to one
part of our frontiers. It is solely in this light that we consider the
utility of the new countries which Russia has just acquired. Every
part of our conquests that did not tend to this end was restored by
our orders, as soon as the conditions of the treaty were published.
Other essential advantages result from the stipulations in favour of
commerce, the free development of which we have always considered as
one of the most influential causes of industry, and at the same time as
the true guarantee of solid peace, founded on an entire reciprocity of
wants and interests.”
The hypocrisy of all this is too transparent to call for comment.
Russia had thus extended her frontier largely to the eastward; and
England had not interfered to prevent the completion of an act, by
which it has been said that Persia was “delivered, bound hand and
foot, to the Court of St. Petersburgh.”[97] How far the British
Government was bound to assist Persia in the war of 1826-27, still
remains an open question. The treaty of Teheran pledged Great Britain,
in the event of a war between Persia and any European State, either
to send an army from India to assist the Shah, or to grant an annual
subsidy of 200,000 tomauns during the continuance of the war; but
this article was saddled with the condition that the war was to be
one in nowise provoked by any act of Persian aggression. A question,
therefore, arose, as to whether the war of 1826-27 was provoked by
the aggressions of Persia or of Russia. Each party pronounced the
other the aggressor. The Persian Government maintained that the unjust
and violent occupation of Gokchah by a Russian force furnished a
legitimate _casus belli_; but the Russian manifestoes declared that,
“in the midst of friendly negotiations, and when positive assurances
gave us the hope of preserving the relations of good neighbourhood with
Persia, the tranquillity of our people was disturbed on the frontiers
of the Caucasus, and a sudden invasion violated the territory of the
Emperor in contempt of solemn treaties.” Russian statesmen have never
been wanting in ability to make the worse appear the better reason.
Whatever overt acts may have been committed, it is certain that the
real provocation came not from the Mahomedan, but from the Christian
State.[98] The backwardness of England at such a time was of dubious
honesty, as it doubtless was of dubious expediency. A more forward
policy might have been more successful. Had Russia been as well
disposed to neutrality as Great Britain, it would have been to the
advantage of the latter to maintain the most friendly relations with
the Muscovite State; but the unscrupulousness of Russia placed England
at a disadvantage. The game was one in which the more honourable player
was sure to be foully beaten. Russia made new acquisitions of Eastern
territory, and England remained a passive spectator of the spoliation.
It is doubtful whether our statesmen were ever satisfied that, in
refusing the subsidy and hesitating to mediate, they acted up to
the spirit of the treaty of Teheran.[99] Certain it is, that the
claim of the Persian Government, at this time, awakened our British
diplomatists to a re-consideration of those subsidy articles which
had involved, and might again involve us in difficulties, not only of
an embarrassing, but of a somewhat discreditable, character. It was
desirable to get rid of these perplexing stipulations. The time was
opportune; the occasion was at hand. The large indemnity insisted upon
by Russia drove the Persian financiers to extremities, and reduced them
to all kinds of petty shifts to meet the extortionate demand. In this
conjucture, England, like an expert money-lender, was ready to take
advantage of the embarrassments of the Persian State, and to make its
own terms with the impoverished creditor of the unyielding Muscovite.
The bargain was struck. Sir John Macdonald, on the part of the British
Government, passed a bond to the Shah for 250,000 tomauns as the price
of the amendment of the subsidy articles, and subsequently obtained the
required erasures by the payment of four-fifths of the amount.
A season of outward tranquillity succeeded the completion of the treaty
of Toorkomanchai. But the great northern power did not slumber. Though,
during those years it added little outwardly to its dominions, it was
obtaining more and more that great moral ascendancy which, perhaps, was
better calculated to secure its ends than an ostentatious extension
of territory. The game of quiet intimidation was now to be tried.
The experiment succeeded to the utmost. Obtaining such an ascendancy
over its counsels as enabled it to induce Persia to transgress its
legitimate boundaries, and adopt an aggressive policy towards the
countries on its eastern frontier, the European power overawed its
Asiatic neighbour. It was the object of Russia to use the resources
of the Persian State in furtherance of its own ends, without overtly
taking possession of them, and thus bringing itself into collision with
other powers. To secure this ascendancy it was necessary to assume a
commanding—indeed, an offensive—attitude of superiority, and, whilst
abstaining from acts of aggression, sufficiently momentous to awaken
the jealousy of other European States, to keep alive the apprehensions
of its Eastern neighbour by an irritating, dictatorial demeanour,
often implying threats of renewed hostility. Conscious of weakness,
Persia yielded to the influence thus sought to be established; and in
due course became, as was intended, a facile tool in the hands of the
Russian minister.
Such, briefly stated in a few sentences, is the history of the
relations subsisting between Russia and Persia since the treaty of
Toorkomanchai. It need not be added that, during this time, English
influence declined sensibly at the Persian Court. Little pains,
indeed, were taken to preserve it, until it became apparent that
the encroachments of Persia upon the countries between its frontier
and India, instigated as they were by the Russian Government, were
calculated to threaten the security of our Indian Empire. In 1831,
Abbas Meerza, the Prince Royal, against the advice of the Shah,
determined on sending an army into Khorassan; and then projected an
expedition against Khiva, for the chastisement of that marauding state,
which had so often invaded the Persian frontier, and carried off into
slavery so many Persian subjects. The Russian agent encouraged, if
he did not actually instigate, these movements. It was said, indeed,
that the active co-operation of Russia would soon be apparent in both
enterprises—that it was her policy to seek the assistance of Persia
in a movement upon Khiva, and to aid that state in the subjugation of
Khorassan. Not only in Khorassan itself, in Afghanistan and Toorkistan,
but in the bazaars of Bombay,[100] was the advance of the confederate
armies of the two states into Khorassan, and thence upon Herat and
India, generally discussed and believed. Such, indeed, at this time,
was the ascendancy of Muscovite influence over the mind of Abbas
Meerza, that it was reported he had married a Russian Princess, and
adopted the Christian faith.
There was a British officer in the Persian camp, Captain Shee,
whose interference brought about the postponement of the Khivan
expedition, and in the following year it was determined to abandon
the Oosbeg enterprise for the time, and to punish the offending
Afghans. An expedition against Herat was then planned; but British
interference, this time directed by the sagacity of Mr. M’Neill, was
again successfully put forth, and the movement was suspended. In the
mean while the Khorassan campaign was prosecuted with vigour. The arms
of Abbas Meerza were triumphant. The independence which the province
had endeavoured to assert could not be maintained in the face of
the battalions of the Prince Royal, aided, as they were, by European
courage and skill.[101] Ameerabad and Koochan fell before him. The
recusant chiefs made their submission; and before the close of 1832 all
the objects of the campaign had been accomplished, and the subjugation
of Khorassan was complete.
Emboldened by success, Abbas Meerza now contemplated new enterprises.
The project of an expedition against Khiva, to be subsequently extended
to Bokhara, was then revived; and the reduction of Herat, a design
favoured alike by the ambition of the Prince and the insidious policy
of Russia, was again brought under review. Herat, which lies on the
western frontier of Afghanistan, had, on the partition of the Douranee
Empire among the Barukzye Sirdars, afforded an asylum to Shah Mahmoud,
and had ever since remained in the hands of that Prince and Kamran, his
successor. To subjugate this tract of country was to open the gate to
further Eastern conquest. The Russian agent was eager, therefore, to
promote a movement which squared so well with the designs of his own
Government. The expedition against Herat was no longer to be postponed.
In 1833 it was actually put into execution; and the command of the
invading force was entrusted to Mahomed Meerza, the son of the Prince
Royal.
In the autumn of 1833 Abbas Meerza died at Meshed. Arrested in the
prosecution of the siege of Herat by the tidings of his father’s death,
Mahomed Meerza returned, in no enviable frame of mind, and withdrew
within the Persian frontier. There were some doubts, too, at that
time, regarding the succession; but these were soon set at rest. The
Shah nominated Mahomed Meerza as his heir, and both the British and the
Russian Governments gave their cordial assent to the choice.
A few months afterwards, in the autumn of 1834, Futteh Ali Shah died
at Ispahan; and Mahomed Meerza ascended the throne. The change was
not favourable to British interests. Futteh Ali had ever been our
friend. From him the Russians had received little encouragement—but
his son and his grandson had thrown themselves into the arms of the
Muscovite; and now that the latter had ascended the throne, there was
every prospect of Russian influence becoming paramount at the Persian
Court. Great Britain had done for the young King all that he required.
He believed that those good offices, which mainly had secured for
him the succession to the throne, were employed only for the purpose
of counteracting the dreaded ascendancy of Russia; and he was in no
humour to display his gratitude towards a nation, the character and the
resources of which he so little understood.
The thought of breaking down the monarchy of Herat still held
possession of the mind of Mahomed Shah. Ever since, in the autumn of
1833, he had been arrested in his first expedition against that place
by the death of his father, he had brooded over his disappointment,
and meditated a renewal of the hostile undertaking. It is said,
indeed, that he swore a solemn oath, sooner or later to retrace
his steps to the eastward, and to wipe out his disgrace in Afghan
blood. Seated on the throne of his grandfather, and upheld there by
British influence, he dreamt of Eastern conquest, openly talked of
it in durbar, and delighted to dwell upon his prospective triumphs
over Oosbeg and Afghan hosts. He needed little prompting to push his
armies across the Eastern frontier. But there were promptings from
without as well as from within. Russia was at the elbow of the Shah,
ever ready to drop tempting suggestions into the young monarch’s ear,
and to keep alive within him the fire both of his ambition and his
revenge. It was the policy of Russia at this time to compensate for
its own encroachments on the Western frontier of Persia, by helping
that country to new acquisitions of territory on the East. Mahomed
Shah had little real love for his great Northern neighbour; but he
profoundly reverenced the gigantic power of the Czar, and, mistaking
quiescence for weakness, aggressiveness for strength, contrasted the
resources of Russia and England in a manner very unfavourable to the
pretensions of the latter.[102] The enormous wings of the Russian eagle
seemed to overshadow the whole land of Iran; and the Shah was eager
that they should be stretched over him in protection, and not descend
upon him in wrath. He knew, by bitter experience, what was the might
of the Northern army; he had fled before the Cossacks on the field of
Ganjah, and narrowly escaped with his life. But of the English he knew
little more than that some courteous and accomplished gentlemen were
drilling his native troops, and doing their best to create for him a
well-disciplined army out of the raw materials placed at their disposal.
And so it happened, that in 1835, when Lord Palmerston wrote to Mr.
Ellis, who had been sent out from London to assume charge of the
Mission on the part of the Crown, that he was “especially to warn the
Persian Government against allowing themselves to be pushed on to make
war against the Afghans,” he could obtain no more satisfactory reply
from the ambassador than that the Shah had “very extended schemes of
conquest in the direction of Afghanistan.” “In common with all his
subjects,” added Mr. Ellis, “he conceives that the right of sovereignty
over Herat and Candahar is as complete now as in the reign of the
Suffarean dynasty.” “This pretension,” it was added, “is much sustained
by the success of his father Abbas Meerza, in the Khorassan campaign,
and the suggestions of General Berowski.”[103] The Persian ministers
declared that the rightful dominions of the Shah extended to Ghuzni;
that an expedition against Herat would be undertaken in the following
spring; that the capture of Candahar would shortly follow; and that
then he would launch into new fields of enterprise among the Beloochees
and the Toorkomans.
The Heratee campaign, however, was the most cherished, as it was the
proximate of all these undertakings; and the Russian minister was
ever ready with suggestions for the immediate march of the Persian
army, lest the British Government should step in to discourage the
undertaking, or take measures to thwart its success. It was urged, too,
that the expedition would be rendered more difficult by delay, and at
a later period more extensive military resources would be required to
prosecute the war with success.
The British minister watched all these proceedings with interest and
anxiety. It seemed to him, that whilst the restlessness of Russian
intrigue was constantly threatening to educe a state of things in
Central Asia, embarrassing to the British-Indian Government, it became
the British, on their parts, to make a counter-move that would keep
her dangerous ally fairly in check. It had been seen, long before
this, that the experiment of drilling the Persian army was nothing
better than an expensive failure. It had, to some extent, the effect
of excluding other European disciplinarians; but, beyond this, it did
not increase our influence in the Persian dominions, or the security
of our Indian frontier. It was advisable, therefore, to do something
more. Never doubting that the network of Russian intrigue would soon
extend itself beyond the Persian frontier, it appeared to the British
minister expedient that we should anticipate the designs of Russia
in Afghanistan by sending an envoy to Dost Mahomed, and offering
to despatch British officers to Caubul to discipline the Ameer’s
army.[104] It was obvious that a decided movement was becoming every
day more and more necessary. A mere conciliatory course of policy,
dictating offers of quiet intervention, was found of no avail in such
a conjuncture. The British minister offered to use his influence with
Shah Kamran to induce that ruler to abstain from the commission of
those acts which had offended the Shah-in-Shah of Persia, but the offer
had been coldly received. It was evident that the aggressive designs of
Mahomed Shah were largely promoted by the Russian minister, and that no
peaceful mediation would induce the young King to abandon his projects
of Eastern conquest.
In the spring of 1836 the plan of the campaign was laid down, but
it was doubtful whether the Shah possessed the means of immediately
reducing it to practice. An unhappy expedition against the Toorkomans
in the course of the summer somewhat cooled his military ardour; and
before the year had worn to a close, he opened negotiations with Herat.
A gallant answer was sent back to his demands. “You demand hostages,”
said the Heratee minister. “We gave no hostages during the reign of
the late Shah; and we will give none now. You demand a present; we are
ready to give as large a present as we can afford. If the Shah is not
satisfied with this, and is determined to attack us, let him come. We
will defend our city as long as we can; and if we are driven from it,
it will of course remain in your hands till we can find means to take
it back again from you.” The Shah was, at this time, on the way back to
his capital. He at once summoned a council of war, laid the offensive
answer of Yar Mahomed before the chief officers who attended him in
his tent, and sought their advice. The result was a determination to
return to Teheran for the winter months, and to commence the expedition
against Herat early in the following spring.[105]
But the spring of 1837, like the spring of 1836, passed by, and the
expedition was not commenced. There appeared to be some hope of
bringing matters to an issue by peaceable negotiation. But the demands
of Persia involved the sacrifice of the independence of the state of
Herat, and Shah Kamran could not be persuaded to reduce himself to
a state of vassalage. He had great respect for the Shah of Persia,
he said; but he could not acknowledge him as his sovereign—could not
coin money or suffer prayers to be read in his name. He consented
that hostages should reside for two years at Meshed, as guarantees
for the fulfilment of the terms of the proposed treaty. He consented
that certain sums of money, in the way of tribute, should be paid
annually to the Persian Government. He consented to furnish troops
in aid of any Persian expedition against Toorkistan. He consented to
restrain his subjects from marauding and plundering, and capturing
slaves on the Persian frontier. But he could not consent to relinquish
the title of Shah, and acknowledge himself a dependant of Persia. The
propositions submitted by Herat were moderate and reasonable; they
called for nothing from the Persian Government beyond a pledge of
non-interference in the internal affairs of Herat. But the pretensions
of the King of Kings to the sovereignty of Western Afghanistan were
not to be sobered down, even by the representations of the British
minister, who endeavoured to reconcile conflicting interests, and to
cement a friendly alliance between the contending parties. Mahomed Shah
was determined, either to break down the independence of Herat, or to
batter down its walls. So the enterprise, long projected—long brooded
over, was undertaken in earnest at last.[106]
The Barukzye Sirdars of Candahar watched the advance of the Persians
with evident satisfaction. They had never ceased to see in Shah Kamran
the murderer of Futteh Khan. They had never ceased to regard with
impatience and irritation that last remnant of Suddozye supremacy which
marred the completeness of Barukzye rule, and at times even threatened
to extend itself towards the East in an effort to restore the old
dynasty of the successors of Ahmed Shah. The approach of the Persian
army seemed now to promise at least the overthrow of Shah Kamran; and
the Candahar brothers looked eagerly for the transfer of the Heratee
principality to themselves.[107]
To cement the alliance with Mahomed Shah, and to secure the most
advantageous terms for himself and his brothers, Kohun Dil Khan
determined to send one of his own sons to the Persian camp. Dost
Mahomed disapproved of the movement. “If you look upon me,” he wrote
to the Candahar chief, “as greater than yourself, do not send your
son to Persia. In the event of your not attending to my advice,
such circumstances will happen as will make you bite the finger of
repentance.” But the Candahar chief was not to be turned from his
purpose by the remonstrances of the Ameer. The bait held out by Persia
was too tempting to be resisted; and Russia was standing by, ready to
guarantee the alluring promises of Mahomed Shah. M. Goutte, the Russian
agent with the Persian army, wrote letters of encouragement to Kohun
Dil Khan, and General Berowski endorsed the flattering assurances they
contained. “It is better,” wrote the former, “to despatch Omar Khan
without apprehension, and I will write to the Persian Government to
remove all apprehensions at your sending your son. He will be treated
with great distinction by the Shah and his nobles.” “Nothing but
good,” said the latter, “will result from this your connexion with the
Shah; so much good, indeed, that I cannot put it to paper. Be convinced
that your serving the Shah will turn out every way to your advantage.”
The Candahar chief was easily convinced. He had fixed his eye upon
Herat, and he fell readily into an alliance which he hoped would place
that principality securely in his hands.
With very different feelings Dost Mahomed Khan viewed the advance of
the Persian army. He wished Mahomed Shah to assist him in a religious
war against the Sikhs; but even an alliance based upon these grounds
he was willing to forego, if he could secure the friendly offices of
the British. A new actor was by this time upon the scene, and new
schemes of policy were beginning to unfold themselves before the Ameer.
Little did he think, when he received with honour, and took friendly
counsel with a British officer sent to his Court to discuss matters of
commerce, how soon that officer would again enter the Afghan capital,
accompanied by a British army. Burnes appeared at Caubul—Mahomed Shah
at Herat; and the seeds of the Afghan war were sown.
* * * * *
_The various treaties referred to in this Introductory Book will be
found in an Appendix at the end of the volume._
BOOK II.
[1835-1838.]
CHAPTER I.
[1835-1837.]
The Commercial Mission to Caubul—Arrival of Lord Auckland—His
Character—Alexander Burnes—His Travels in Central Asia—Deputation
to the Court of Dost Mahomed—Reception by the Ameer—Negotiations at
Caubul—Failure of the Mission.
In the autumn of 1835, Lord Auckland was appointed Governor-General of
India. The Whigs had just returned to power. The brief Tory interregnum
which had preceded the restoration to office of Lord Melbourne and
his associates, had been marked by the appointment to the Indian
Viceroyship of Lord Heytesbury—a nobleman of high character and
approved diplomatic skill. His official friends boasted largely of
the excellence of the choice, and prophesied that the most beneficial
results would flow from his government of India. But nothing of the
Governor-Generalship ever devolved upon him, except the outfit. The
Whig ministers cancelled the appointment, and, after a time, selected
Lord Auckland to fill the rudely vacated place.
The appointment occasioned some surprise, but raised little
indignation. In India, the current knowledge of Lord Auckland and
his antecedents was of the smallest possible amount. In England, the
general impression was, that if not a brilliant or a profound man, he
was at least a safe one. The son of an eminent diplomatist, who had
been won over to the support of Pitt’s administration, and had been
raised to the peerage in reward for his services, he was generally
regarded as one of the steadiest and most moderate of the Whig party.
As an industrious and conscientious public servant, assiduous in
his attention to business and anxious to compensate by increased
application for the deficiencies of native genius, he was held in
good esteem by his colleagues and respected by all who had official
intercourse with him. India did not, it was supposed, at that time
demand for the administration of her affairs, any large amount of
masculine vigour or fertility of resource. The country was in a state
of profound tranquillity. The treasury was overflowing. The quietest
ruler was likely to be the best. There was abundant work to be done;
but it was all of a pacific character. In entrusting that work to Lord
Auckland, the ministry thought that they entrusted it to safe hands.
The new Governor-General had everything to learn; but he was a man of
methodical habits of business, apt in the acquisition of knowledge,
with no overweening confidence in himself, and no arrogant contempt
for others. His ambition was all of the most laudable kind. It was an
ambition to do good. When he declared, at the farewell banquet given
to him by the Directors of the East-India Company, that he “looked
with exultation to the new prospects opening out before him, affording
him an opportunity of doing good to his fellow-creatures—of promoting
education and knowledge—of improving the administration of justice in
India—of extending the blessings of good government and happiness
to millions in India,” it was felt by all who knew him, that the
words were uttered with a grave sincerity, and expressed the genuine
aspirations of the man.
Nor did the early days of his government disappoint the expectations
of those who had looked for a painstaking, laborious administrator,
zealous in the persecution of measures calculated to develope the
resources of the country, and to advance the happiness of the people.
It appeared, indeed, that with something less of the uncompromising
energy and self-denying honesty of Lord William Bentinck, but with
an equal purity of benevolence, he was treading in the footsteps of
his predecessor. The promotion of native education, and the expansion
of the industrial resources of the country, were pursuits far more
congenial to his nature than the assembling of armies and the invasion
of empires. He had no taste for the din and confusion of the camp; no
appetite for foreign conquest. Quiet and unobtrusive in his manners,
of a somewhat cold and impassive temperament, and altogether of a
reserved and retiring nature, he was not one to court excitement or
to desire notoriety. He would fain have passed his allotted years of
office, in the prosecution of those small measures of domestic reform
which, individually, attract little attention, but, in the aggregate,
affect mightily the happiness of the people. He belonged, indeed, to
that respectable class of governors whose merits are not sufficiently
prominent to demand ample recognition by their contemporaries, but
whose noiseless, unapplauded achievements entitled them to the praise
of the historian and the gratitude of after ages.
It was not possible, however intently his mind might have been fixed
upon the details of internal administration, that he should have
wholly disregarded the aggressive designs of Persia and the obvious
intrigues of the Russian Government. The letters written from time
to time by the British minister at the Persian Court, were read
at first, in the Calcutta Council-Chamber, with a vague interest
rather than with any excited apprehensions. It was little anticipated
that a British army would soon be encamped before the capital of
Afghanistan, but it was plain that events were taking shape in Central
Asia, over which the British-Indian Government could not afford to
slumber. At all events, it was necessary in such a conjuncture to get
together some little body of facts, to acquire some historical and
geographical information relating to the countries lying between the
Indian frontier and the eastern boundaries of the Russian Empire.
Secretaries then began to write “notes,” and members of Council to
study them. Summaries of political events, genealogical trees, tables
of routes and distances, were all in great requisition, during the
first years of Lord Auckland’s administration. The printed works of
Elphinstone, Conolly, and Burnes; of Malcolm, Pottinger, and Fraser,
were to be seen on the breakfast-tables of our Indian statesmen, or
in their hands as they were driven to Council. Then came Sir John
M’Neill’s startling pamphlet on the “Progress and Present Position of
Russia in the East.” M’Neill, Urquhart, and others were writing up the
Eastern question at home; reviewers and pamphleteers of smaller note
were rushing into the field with their small collections of facts and
arguments. It was demonstrated past contradiction, that if Russia were
not herself advancing by stealthy steps towards India, she was pushing
Persia forward in the same easterly direction. If all this was not
very alarming, it was, at least, worth thinking about. It was plainly
the duty of Indian statesmen to acquaint themselves with the politics
of Central Asia, and the geography of the countries through which the
invasion of India must be attempted. It was only right that they should
have been seen tracing on incorrect maps the march of a Russian army
from St. Petersburgh to Calcutta, by every possible and impossible
route, now floundering among the inhospitable steppes, now parching
on the desert of Merve. The Russian army might not come at last; but
it was clearly the duty of an Indian statesman to know how it would
endeavour to come.
It was in the spring of 1836 that Dost Mahomed addressed a letter of
congratulation to Lord Auckland, on his assumption of the office of
Governor-General. “The field of my hopes,” he wrote, “which had before
been chilled by the cold blast of wintry times, has by the happy
tidings of your Lordship’s arrival become the envy of the garden of
paradise.” Then adverting to the unhappy state of his relations with
the Sikhs, he said: “The late transactions in this quarter, the conduct
of 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. I hope,” said the Ameer, in
conclusion, “that your Lordship will consider me and my country as your
own;” but he little thought how in effect this Oriental compliment
would be accepted as a solemn invitation, and the hope be literally
fulfilled. Three years afterwards Lord Auckland, considering Dost
Mahomed’s country his own, had given it away to Shah Soojah.
To this friendly letter the Governor-General returned a friendly reply.
It was his wish, he said, that the Afghans “should be a flourishing
and united nation;” it was his wish, too, that Dost Mahomed should
encourage a just idea of the expediency of promoting the navigation
of the Indus. He hinted that he should probably soon “depute some
gentlemen” to the Ameer’s Court to discuss with him certain commercial
topics; and added, with reference to Dost Mahomed’s unhappy relations
with the Sikhs, and his eagerness to obtain assistance from any
quarter: “My friend, you are aware that it is not the practice of the
British Government to interfere with the affairs of other independent
states.” With what feelings three years afterwards, when a British army
was marching upon his capital, the Ameer must have remembered these
words, it is not difficult to conjecture.
This project of a commercial mission to Afghanistan was no new
conception of which Lord Auckland was the parent. It had at least been
thought of by Lord William Bentick—and, certainly, with no ulterior
designs. It was suggested, I believe, to Lord William Bentinck by Sir
John Malcolm. That Lord Auckland, when he wrote to Dost Mahomed about
“deputing some gentlemen” to Caubul to talk over commercial matters
with the Ameer, had much more intention than his predecessor of driving
the Barukzye Sirdars into exile, is not to be asserted or believed.
He may have seen that such a mission might be turned to other than
commercial uses; he may have thought it desirable that the gentlemen
employed should collect as much information at the Ameer’s Court as the
advantages of their position would enable them to acquire. But at this
time he would have started back at the barest mention of a military
expedition beyond the Indus, and would have scouted a proposal to
substitute for the able and energetic ruler of Caubul, that luckless
Suddozye Prince—the pensioner of Loodhianah,—whose whole career had
been such a series of disasters as had never before been written down
against the name of any one man.
Apart from the commercial bearings of the case, he had little more
than a dim notion of obtaining a clearer insight into the politics
of Central Asia. But vague and indefinite as were his conceptions,
he was haunted, even at the commencement of his Indian career, by a
feeling of insecurity, engendered by the aspect of affairs beyond the
British frontier. There was a shadow of danger, but he knew not what
the substance might be. Any one of the strange combinations which he
was called upon to consider, might evolve a war;[108] so at least it
behoved him to prepare for the possible contest, by obtaining all the
knowledge that could be acquired, and securing the services of men
competent to aid him in such a conjuncture.
Since distant rumours of an Afghan invasion had disturbed the strong
mind of Lord Wellesley, much had been learnt both in India and in
England concerning the countries between the Indus and the Oxus. The
civil and military services of the East India Company, numbering in
their ranks, as they ever have done, men of lofty enterprise and great
ability, had, since the commencement of the century, brought, by
their graphic writings, the countries and the people of Central Asia
visibly before their home-staying countrymen. Before the close of the
eighteenth century, but one English traveler—a Bengal civilian, named
Forster—had made his way from the banks of the Ganges across the rivers
of the Punjab to the lakes of Cashmere, and thence descending into
the country below, had entered the formidable pass of the Khybur, and
penetrated through the defiles of Jugdulluck and Koord-Caubul to the
Afghan capital, whence he had journeyed on, by Ghuznee, Candahar, and
Herat, to the borders of the Caspian Sea. The journey was undertaken in
1783 and the following year; but it was not until some fifteen years
afterwards, that the account of his travels was given to the world.
Honourable alike to his enterprise and his intelligence, the book
exhibits at once how much, during the last seventy years, the Afghan
Empire, and how little the Afghan character, is changed.
The great work of Mountstuart Elphinstone, published some fifteen years
after the appearance of Mr. Forster’s volume, soon became the text-book
of all who sought for information relating to the history and geography
of the Douranee Empire. But Elphinstone saw little of the country or
the people of Afghanistan; he acquired information, and he reproduced
it with marvellous fidelity and distinctness, and would probably not
have written a better book if he had travelled and had seen more. It
was left for a later generation to explore the tracts of country which
were unvisited by the ambassador; and for a later still to elicit
encouragement and reward.
Years passed away before government began to recognise the value of
such inquiries. When Mr. Moorcroft, of the Company’s Stud-Department,
a man of high courage and enterprise, accompanied by Mr. Trebeck, the
son of a Calcutta lawyer, set out in 1819, in the mixed character of
a horse-dealer and a merchant, upon his long and perilous journey;
spent the last six years of his life in exploring the countries of
Ladakh, Cashmere, Afghanistan, Balkh, and Bokhara; and died at last in
the inhospitable regions beyond the Hindoo-Koosh, nothing but absolute
discouragement and opposition emanated from a government that had not
the prescience to see the importance of such investigations.[109]
In 1828 Mr. Edward Stirling, an officer of the Bengal civil service,
being in England on furlough, undertook to return to India by the route
of Khorassan and Afghanistan. From Sir John Macdonald, the Resident
Minister at Teheran, he received every encouragement and assistance;
but the Indian Government looked slightingly upon his labours, and
neglected the man. The information he had acquired was not wanted;
and he was put out of employment, because he had over-stayed, by a
few weeks, the period of his leave of absence. Those were days when
no thought of an invasion from the westward overshadowed the minds of
our Indian statesmen.[110] But when, a few years afterwards, a young
officer of the Bengal cavalry, named Arthur Conolly—a man of an earnest
and noble nature, running over with the most benevolent enthusiasm,
and ever suffering his generous impulses to shoot far in advance of
his prudence and discretion—set out from London, proceeded, through
Russia, across the Caucasus, and thence through Persia and Khorassan,
accompanying an Afghan army from Meshed to Herat, and journeyed on from
the latter place to Candahar, and, southward, through Beloochistan and
Sindh to India, there was little chance of the information which he
collected on his travels being received with ingratitude and neglect.
The period which elapsed between the time when those travels were
completed and the date at which their written results were given to
the world, deprived Arthur Conolly of some portion of the credit which
he might otherwise have received, and of the interest which attached
to his publication. Another officer had by this time made his way by
another route, through the unexplored regions of Central Asia, and laid
before the government and the country an account of his wanderings. On
him, when Lord Auckland bethought himself of despatching a commercial
agent to Caubul, the choice of the Governor-General fell.
Born in the year 1805, at Montrose, and educated in the academy of
that town, Alexander Burnes proceeded to Bombay at the early age of
sixteen, and, at a period of his career when the majority of young
men are mastering the details of company-drill, and wasting their
time in the strenuous idleness of cantonment life, had recommended
himself, by his proficiency in the native languages, to the government
under which he served. Whilst yet in his teens, he was employed to
translate the Persian documents of the Suddur Court, and, at the age
of twenty, was appointed Persian interpreter to a force assembled
for a hostile demonstration against Sindh, rendered necessary by
the continued border feuds which were disturbing the peace of our
frontier. In a little while he became distinguished as a topographer
no less than as a linguist; and as a writer of memoirs, and designer
of maps of little-known tracts of country, soon rose into favour and
repute. Attached to the department of the Quartermaster-General, he was
employed upon the survey of the north-western frontier of the Bombay
Presidency, and shortly afterwards was appointed Assistant Political
Agent in Cutch, a province with which he had made himself intimately
acquainted. In the young officer a spirit of enterprise was largely
blended with the love of scientific research. He was eager to push
his inquiries and to extend his travels into the countries watered
by the Indus and its tributaries—the fabulous rivers on the banks of
which the Macedonian had encamped his victorious legions. It was not
long before occasion offered for the gratification of his cherished
desires. A batch of splendid English horses had been despatched, in
1830, to Bombay, as a present to Runjeet Singh; and Sir John Malcolm,
then Governor of that Presidency, selected Alexander Burnes to conduct
the complimentary mission to Lahore.[111] Instructed, at the same
time, to neglect no opportunity of acquiring information relative to
the geography of the Indus, he proceeded through the country of the
Ameers of Sindh, though not without some obstruction, from the jealousy
and suspicion of the Talpoor rulers.[112] At the Sikh capital he was
received with becoming courtesy and consideration. The old lion of the
Punjab flung himself into the arms of the young British officer, and
retained him as an honoured guest for a month. Leaving Lahore, Burnes
crossed the Sutlej, and visited Loodhianah, where, little dreaming
of the closer connexion which would one day exist between them, he
made the acquaintance of the ex-King, Soojah-ool-Moolk, and his blind
brother, Zemaun Shah. “Had I but my kingdom,” said the former to
Burnes, “how glad I should be to see an Englishman at Caubul, and to
open the road between Europe and India.”
From Loodhianah the traveller proceeded to Simlah, to lay an account
of his journeying and its results at the feet of the Governor-General.
Lord William Bentinck was then recruiting his exhausted energies in
the bracing climate of that hill station. He received the traveller
with kindly consideration, and listened to his narrations with
interest and attention. Full of enthusiasm, with his appetite for
enterprise stimulated by his recent adventures, Burnes pressed upon the
Governor-General the expediency of extending the fields of geographical
and commercial inquiry upon which he had entered, and succeeded in
obtaining the sanction of the Governor-General to an expedition into
Central Asia, to be undertaken under the patronage of Government, but
not avowedly in connection with any public objects. He set out on his
overland journey to England ostensibly as a private traveller, but
protected by passports designed to show that he was travelling under
the countenance of the government which he served.
Accompanied by Dr. Gerard, an assistant-surgeon on the Bengal
establishment; by a young native surveyor, named Mahomed Ali; and by
Mohun Lal, a Hindoo youth of Cashmerian descent, who had been educated
at the Delhi College, and patronised by Mr. Trevelyan, Burnes set out
on his long and perilous journey. Starting at the commencement of the
new year of 1832, the travellers crossed the Punjab, and proceeded
by the route of Peshawur and Jellalabad to Caubul. Here they were
hospitably received by Dost Mahomed. The character of the Caubul chief
and of the Afghan nation impressed themselves favourably upon the
mind of Alexander Burnes. Of the latter he spoke as a simple-minded,
sober people, of frank, open manners, impulsive and variable almost to
childishness. He had seen and conversed with Shah Soojah at Loodhianah,
and declared his conviction that the exiled Prince had not energy
sufficient to empower him to regain his throne, or tact sufficient
to enable him to keep it. The character of the Barukzye Sirdar now
presented, in the eyes of the English officer, a favourable contrast to
that of the Suddozye Prince. Burnes saw before him a man of no common
ability, with a well-disciplined mind, a high sense of justice, and a
general appreciation of his duties and responsibilities, as a ruler of
the people, not unworthy of a Christian potentate. And I do not believe
that from that time he ever changed his opinion.
Leaving Caubul, Burnes and his fellow-travellers ascended the
mountain-paths of the Hindoo-Koosh, and journeying onward by the route
of Syghan and Koondooz, debouched into the valley of the Oxus, followed
the course of that river for many days, and then made their way to
Bokhara. After two months spent in that city, they re-crossed the
Oxus and journeyed westward to the Persian frontier. Visiting Meshed,
Teheran, Ispahan, and Shiraz, and making the acquaintance on the way
both of Abbas Meerza and the Shah-i-Shah, they proceeded to Bushire and
Bombay. From Bombay, Burnes pushed on to Calcutta, and early in 1833
had laid before the Governor-General the results of his Central-Asian
travels. Lord William Bentinck received him with marked attention and
respect, and sent him to England, that he might impart, in person, to
the home authorities the information with which he was laden.
His reception in England was of the most flattering character. The
commendations of the East India Company and the Board of Control were
endorsed by the commendations of the public. He published his book.
It was read with avidity. In the coteries of London, “Bokhara Burnes”
became one of the celebrities of the season. Learned societies did him
honour. Fashionable dames sent him cards of invitation. Statesmen and
savans sought his acquaintance. At Holland House and Bowood he was a
favoured guest. He was no niggard of his information; he talked freely;
and he had “some new thing” whereof to discourse. His fine talents and
his genial social qualities recommended him to many; and there was more
than enough in the overflowings of English hospitality to satisfy a
vainer man.
These, however, were but unsubstantial rewards. He looked for promotion
in the paths of Oriental diplomacy; and Lord Ellenborough, who then
presided at the India Board, recommended him for the appointment of
Secretary of Legation at the Persian Court.[113] This offer he was
recommended to decline; and he returned to India, in the spring of
1835, to resume his duties as Assistant to the Resident at Cutch.
Rescued in the autumn from the obscurity of this appointment, he was
despatched to the Court of the Ameers of Sindh. The duties of the
Mission were performed with judgment and ability. The Ameers consented
to the proposal for the survey of the Indus, and would gladly have
entered into more intimate relations with the British Government had it
been considered, upon our part, desirable to strengthen the alliance.
Whilst still in the Sindh country, Burnes received instructions from
the Supreme Government of India to hold himself in readiness to
undertake the charge of the “commercial” mission which it had been
determined to despatch to Afghanistan, and to proceed to Bombay to make
preparations for the journey.[114] He reached that Presidency in the
course of October, 1836, and on the 26th of November, accompanied by
Lieutenant Leech, of the Bombay Engineers, and Lieutenant Wood, of the
Indian Navy,[115] Burnes sailed from Bombay to “work out the policy
of opening the River Indus to commerce”—that policy, the splendid
results of which, years afterwards, when our army, our treasury, and
our reputation, had been buried in the passes of Afghanistan, Lord
Palmerston openly boasted in Parliament amidst the derisive cheers of
the House.
Taking the Sindh route, Burnes presented himself at the Court of the
Ameers, and was hospitably received. The English officer explained
the object of his mission; talked about the navigation of the Indus;
and dwelt encouragingly upon the instructions which he had received,
“to endeavour to infuse confidence into all classes by a declaration
of the happy and close friendship which subsisted between the
British and the powers on the Indus.” From Hyderabad he proceeded to
Bahwulpore; and thence to Dehra Gazee Khan. At the latter place he
received intelligence of the battle of Jumrood; and, pushing on to the
neighbourhood of Peshawur, soon found himself near the theatre of war.
From Peshawur to Jumrood, Avitabile[116] drove the British officers
in his carriage. The deputation that was to conduct them through the
Khybur Pass had not made its appearance. They were suffering martyrdom
from the effluvia of the putrifying corpses of the Afghan and Sikh
soldiers who had fallen in the recent conflict; and, at all hazards,
they determined to push on. The Khybur was cleared without accident or
obstruction. Friendly deputations from the Ameer greeted the British
officers as they advanced. On the 20th of September, they entered
Caubul.
They were received “with great pomp and splendour.” At the head of a
fine body of Afghan cavalry Akbar Khan came out to meet them. Placing
Burnes on an elephant beside him, he conducted the British officers
to his father’s Court. Nothing could have been more honourable than
the reception of the British Mission. A spacious and beautiful garden
within the Balla Hissar, and near the palace, was allotted as the
residence of Burnes and his companions.
On the following day, “with many expressions of his high sense of
the great honour conferred upon him,” Dost Mahomed formally received
the representatives of the British Government. Burnes submitted
his credentials. The letters were opened by the Ameer himself, and
read by his minister, Meerza Samee Khan. They introduced Burnes to
his Highness solely as a commercial agent. The flimsy veil was soon
dropped. It was evident from the first that whatever might have been
his instructions—whatever might have been the proximate, or rather the
ostensible object of the mission, Burnes had ulterior designs, and
that he, in reality, went to Caubul either as a spy or a political
diplomatist. He had not been three days at the Afghan capital, before
he wrote to Mr. Macnaghten, that he should take an early opportunity
of reporting what transpired at the Ameer’s Court; and ten days
afterwards we find him announcing “the result of his inquiries on the
subject of Persian influence in Caubul, and the exact power which
the Kuzzilbash, or Persian party resident in this city, have over the
politics of Afghanistan.” To a private friend he wrote more distinctly:
“I came to look after commerce, to superintend surveys and examine
passes of mountains, and likewise certainly _to see into affairs and
judge of what was to be done hereafter_; but the hereafter has already
arrived.”[117] It is hard to say what our Oriental diplomatists would
do if they were forbidden the use of the word “commerce.” It launched
Burnes fairly into the sea of Afghan politics; and then he cut it
adrift.
On the 24th of September, Burnes was invited to a private conference
with the Ameer. It took place in “the interior of the Harem” of the
Balla Hissar, and in the presence only of Akbar Khan. Dinner was
served; and “the interview lasted till midnight.” The Ameer listened
attentively to all that Burnes advanced relative to the navigation of
the Indus and the trade of Afghanistan, but replied, that his resources
were so crippled by his war with the Sikhs, that he was compelled to
adopt measures injurious to commerce, for the mere purpose of raising
revenue. He spoke with much warmth of the loss of Peshawur, which, he
alleged, had been basely wrested from him, whilst he was engaged in
war with Shah Soojah. Burnes replied with a number of cut-and-dried
sentences about the ability and resources of Runjeet Singh. To all this
the Ameer cheerfully assented. He acknowledged that he was not strong
enough to cope with so powerful an adversary as the ruler of Lahore.
“Instead of renewing the conflict,” he said, “it would be a source of
real gratification if the British Government would counsel me how to
act: none of our other neighbours can avail me; and in return I would
pledge myself to forward its commercial and its political views.”
Remarking that he heard with pleasure this acknowledgment, Burnes
assured him that the British Government would exert itself to secure
peace between the Punjab and Afghanistan; and added, that although he
could not hold out any promise of interference for the restoration of
Peshawur, which had been won and preserved by the sword, he believed
that the “Maharajah intended to make some change in its management, but
that it sprung from himself, and not from the British Government.” The
Ameer could not repress his eagerness to learn the precise character of
these contemplated arrangements; but all that Burnes could offer was a
conjecture that the Maharajah might be induced to restore the country,
under certain restrictions, to Sultan Mahomed Khan and his brothers, to
whom, and not to the Ameer, it had formerly belonged.
On the evening of the 4th of October, Burnes was again invited to
the Balla Hissar. The Ameer had in the mean time waited upon him in
his own quarters. At this second conference in the palace, the Newab
Jubbar Khan was present. On this occasion, to the surprise of the
British envoy, the Ameer carried his moderation and humility to an
excess which might almost have aroused suspicion. He declared that
if the representative of Great Britain recommended him to do so,
he would express to Runjeet Singh his contrition for the past, and
ask forgiveness; and that if the Maharajah “would consent to give
up Peshawur to him, he would hold it tributary to Lahore; send the
requisite presents of horses and rice; and in all things consider
himself, in that part of his dominions, as holding under Lahore.”
Burnes suggested that such an arrangement would be destructive to the
hopes of Sultan Mahomed, who ought to be regarded with compassion; and
asked whether it would not be equally advantageous to the reputation
of the Ameer that Peshawur should be restored to his brother. To this
the Ameer replied, that the country might as well be in the hands of
the Sikhs as in those of Sultan Mahomed, who had been to him both a
treacherous friend and a bitter enemy. Little more passed at this
meeting. Burnes retired to speculate upon the conduct of the Ameer
and write letters to the political Secretary, Mr. Macnaghten, who was
destined soon to play so conspicuous a part in the great drama, of
which this “Commercial” mission was the prologue.
In the meanwhile the attention of the Mission was directed to the state
of affairs at Candahar. The chief of that place, Kohun Dil Khan, had
not only declared his willingness to embrace the Persian alliance,
but had, as we have seen, determined on sending his second son, with
the Persian agent, to Mahomed Shah, as the bearer of presents to the
Shah and the Russian embassy. Against this course of procedure Dost
Mahomed had protested. “Oh! my brother,” he wrote, “if you will do
these things without my concurrence, what will the world say to it?”
There can be no doubt of the Ameer’s sincerity. Indeed, it was the
conviction that the Caubul chief was entering with his whole soul into
the British alliance, to the exclusion, as it was believed, of the
Candahar Sirdars, that drove the latter to strengthen their alliance
with the Persian Court. Burnes himself had no doubt that the Ameer was
at this time acting a straightforward part. On the 30th of October he
wrote to a private friend: “Here a hundred things are passing of the
highest interest.... Dost Mahomed Khan has fallen into all our views,
and in so doing has either thought for himself or followed my counsel,
but for doing the former I give him every credit, and things now stand
so that I think we are on the threshold of a negotiation with King
Runjeet, the basis of which will be his withdrawal from Peshawur,
and a Barukzye receiving it as a tributary of Lahore, the chief of
Caubul sending his son to ask pardon. What say you to this after all
that has been urged of Dost Mahomed Khan’s putting forth extravagant
pretensions? Runjeet will accede to the plan, I am certain.... I have,
in behalf of Government, agreed to stand as mediator with the parties,
and Dost Mahomed has cut asunder all his connexion with Russia and
Persia, and refused to receive the ambassador from the Shah now at
Candahar. His brothers at that city have, however, caressed the Persian
Elchee all the more for this, and I have sent them such a Junius as,
I believe, will astonish them. I had, indeed, reason to act promptly,
for they have a son setting out for Teheran with presents to the Shah
and the Russian ambassador; and I hope I shall be in time to explain
our hostility to such conduct. Everything here has, indeed, run well;
and but for our deputation at the time it happened, the house we occupy
would have been tenanted by a Russian Agent and a Persian Elchee.”[118]
On the 31st of October, Burnes wrote to Mr. Macnaghten that another
conference had taken place on the 24th between himself and the Ameer,
and that what passed on that occasion “set Dost Mahomed’s conduct in a
light that must prove, as I believe, very gratifying to Government.”
On the British Envoy expressing the regret which he felt on being made
acquainted with the misguided conduct of the Candahar Sirdars, the
Ameer had declared that if such conduct was distressing to the British
agent, it was much more distressing to him; that he himself repented
of having ever listened to the overtures of Persia; that he would take
care publicly to manifest his desire to strengthen his relations with
the British Government, and do everything in his power to induce his
Candahar brothers to adopt a wiser course of policy. Burnes replied
that he was delighted to hear the expression of such sentiments; but
distinctly stated “that neither he nor his brothers were to found hopes
of receiving aid from the British Government;” that so long as they
conducted themselves with propriety they might rely upon the sympathy
of the British Government, but that they must, by no means, expect to
derive anything more substantial from the alliance.[119] Discouraging
as this was, the Ameer still courted the British alliance—still
declared that he would exert himself to the utmost to detach his
Candahar brothers from their connexion with Persia, and even, if
desired by the British agent, would commence active operations against
them. Discountenancing the idea of an active movement against Candahar,
Burnes commended the good feeling of the Ameer, and exhorted him to do
his best, by pacific means, to break down Kohun Dil’s connexion with
Persia—an effort which “could not fail to be received by the British
Government as a strong mark of his desire for our friendship, and of
great good sense.”
Burnes, who had gone to Caubul, as a commercial agent, was at this
time without any political instructions. As he ascended the Indus, he
had received letters from Government, somewhat modifying the character
of his mission, and placing a larger amount of discretion in his
hands.[120] But he did not feel that he was in a position to deal with
the Peshawur question without positive instructions from the Supreme
Government; so all that he could now do was to temporise, to amuse
Dost Mahomed with vague assurances of sympathy and good-will, until
the wishes of the Governor-General were conveyed to him in a specific
shape. He could promise nothing substantial. He could only write for
instructions, and await patiently the receipt of letters from Hindostan.
But Burnes, though he shrunk from compromising his government in
the direction of Lahore, had no such scruples with regard to the
proceedings of the Barukzye Sirdars in the countries to the westward.
He thought that some latitude having been allowed him, he might take
prompt measures to meet a pressing difficulty threatening us from
a quarter so far removed from the ordinary circle embraced by the
deliberations of the Calcutta Council. Before he entered Afghanistan
the conduct of the Candahar chiefs had engaged his serious attention,
and he had written to the British minister at the Persian Court,
saying that he should leave nothing undone to try and put a stop to
their intercourse with the Russian mission. “If matters go rightly,”
he added, “we shall be able to neutralise the power of the Candahar
chiefs, or at all events place them in complete subjection to Dost
Mahomed Khan, whose influence increases daily.” Burnes, as has been
seen,[121] had despatched in October a letter to Kohun Dil Khan,
threatening him with the displeasure of the British Government if he
continued his intrigues with the Persian and Russian Court; and the
measures taken at this time were so far successful, that, encouraged
by their result, the British agent determined to take further steps to
secure the alliance of the chiefs of Candahar. On the 22nd of December,
Burnes became convinced of the improved temper of Kohun Dil Khan, who
declared that he had dismissed the Persian Elchee, had determined
not to send his son to the Persian Court, and was anxious, above all
things, for the counsel and assistance of the British Government, and
of his brother, Dost Mahomed Khan. Mahomed Shah had by this time begun
to cool down in his zeal for the Afghan alliance; and it appeared
to be at least possible that the Sirdar, instead of receiving Herat
from the Shah, would, after the capture of that place, be threatened
with the loss of Candahar. Seizing the opportunity afforded him by
this favorable change in the aspect of affairs, Burnes wrote at once
to Kohun Dil Khan, stating that if the Persian monarch threatened to
subdue his chiefship, he would go at once to Candahar, accompanied by
Dost Mahomed, and assist him by every means in his power, even to the
extent of paying his troops.
In the meanwhile he determined to despatch at once an officer of the
British Mission to Candahar. That officer was Lieutenant Leech. On
Christmas-day, Burnes sat down and wrote him a long and clearly-worded
letter of instructions. It was hoped that the presence of a British
agent at Candahar would keep Persia in check, and if not, he could
despatch to Caubul the earliest intelligence of the advance of the
Persian army, and so enable Burnes to counteract the movement with the
least possible delay.[122]
Burnes exceeded his instructions, and was severely censured by the
Governor-General. Lord Auckland was then on his way to Simlah; and
from Bareilly Mr. Secretary Macnaghten wrote a long letter to the
Caubul agent, at the close of which he touched upon the promises made
to the Candahar chiefs. “It is with great pain,” he said, “that his
Lordship must next proceed to advert to the subject of the promises
which you have held out to the chiefs of Candahar. These promises were
entirely unauthorised by any part of your instructions. They are most
unnecessarily made in unqualified terms, and they would, if supported,
commit the Government upon the gravest questions of general policy.
His Lordship is compelled, therefore, decidedly to disapprove them.
He is only withheld from a direct disavowal of these engagements to
the chiefs of Candahar, because such disavowal would carry with it
the declaration of a difference between you and your Government,
and might weaken your personal influence, and because events might,
in this interval, have occurred which would render such a course
unnecessary. But the rulers of Candahar must not be allowed to rest
in confidence upon promises so given, and should affairs continue in
the same uncertainty as that which prevailed at the date of your last
despatches, you will endeavour to set yourself right with the chiefs,
and will feel yourself bound in good faith to admit that you have
exceeded your instructions and held out hopes, which you find, upon
communication with your Government, cannot be realised. After what has
been stated, his Lordship feels that he need not enlarge on his strict
injunction that you in future conform punctually on all points to the
orders issued for your guidance.”[123] And so Burnes was censured
for a measure which, under all the circumstances of the case, was the
very best that could have been adopted; and the Candahar chiefs threw
themselves again into the Persian alliance, and entered into a formal
treaty with the Shah—under a Russian guarantee.
In the mean while a new actor had appeared on the political
stage, ready to pick up the leavings of the British agent, and to
appreciate what the British Government had been pleased to reject.
On the afternoon of the 19th of December, a Russian officer named
Vickovich,[124] entered the city of Caubul. Born of a good family
in Lithuania, and educated in the national university of Wilna, he
had attracted attention, whilst yet a student, by the liberality of
his sentiments and the fearlessness with which he expressed them.
Associated with others of kindred opinions and equal enthusiasm, he
took part in a demonstration in favour of the Polish cause, which
well-nigh ended in the suppression of the institution; and, whilst
other more formidable conspirators were condemned to end their days
in Siberia, he and his immediate colleagues in the university were
sent to Orenburgh, as a kind of honourable exile, to be employed
in the military colony of the Ural. Here the general intelligence,
the aptitude for instruction, the love of adventure, and the daring
character of young Vickovich, soon distinguished him above his
associates. Attached to the expeditions sent out for the survey of the
Desht-i-Kipchak, he lived for some years among the Calmucks, gaining
an acquaintance with the Nogai and Jaghatai dialects of the Turkish
language, and subsequently, during a residence of some months in
Bokhara, whither he was sent with the Caravan from Orenburgh, acquired
a sufficient knowledge of the Persian language to enable him to
converse intelligibly, if not fluently, in it. When, therefore, the
Russian Government began to meditate a mission to Caubul, and to cast
about for a competent agent, there seemed to be no likelier man than
Vickovich to perform, with advantage to the state, the dubious service
required of him. He was at this time aide-de-camp to the Governor of
Orenburgh. The Caubul agency was entrusted to him without hesitation.
He was despatched at once to Astrakan, whence he crossed over to Resht,
in Ghilan, and received his final instructions from Count Simonich,
at Teheran, in September, 1837. Before the end of December he was at
Caubul.[125]
On the day after the arrival of Vickovich at Caubul, Burnes reported
the incident to the supreme Government, and detailed the circumstances
of his reception. Like almost everything in Burnes’s public letters,
which places the conduct of Dost Mahomed in a favourable light, the
following passages were cut out of the correspondence before it was
placed in the printer’s hands;-“On the morning of the 19th,” wrote
Burnes, “that is, yesterday, the Ameer came over from the Balla Hissar
early in the morning with a letter from his son, the Governor of
Ghuznee, reporting that the Russian agent had arrived at that city
on his way to Caubul. Dost Mahomed Khan said that he had come for my
counsel on the occasion; that he wished to have nothing to do with any
other power than the British; that he did not wish to receive any agent
of any power whatever so long as he had a hope of sympathy from us;
and that he would order the Russian agent to be turned out, detained
on the road, or act in any way I desired him. I asked the Ameer if he
knew on what business the agent had come, and if he were really an
agent from Russia. He replied that I had read all his letters from
Candahar, and that he knew nothing more. I then stated that it was a
sacred rule among civilised nations not to refuse to receive emissaries
in time of peace, and that I could not take upon myself to advise him
to refuse any one who declared himself duly accredited, but that the
Ameer had it in his power to show his feeling on the occasion by
making a full disclosure to the British Government of the errand on
which the individual had come; to which he most readily assented. After
this the Ameer despatched a servant on the road to Ghuznee to prevent
the agent’s entering Caubul without notice; but so rapid has been his
journey, that he met him a few miles from the city, which he entered in
the afternoon, attended by two of the Ameer’s people. He has not yet
seen the Ameer. He has sent a letter from Count Simonich, which I have
seen, and states that he is the bearer of letters from Mahomed Shah and
the Emperor of Russia. I shall take an early opportunity of reporting
on the proceedings of the Russian agent, if he be so in reality; for,
if not an impostor, it is a most uncalled-for proceeding, after the
disavowal of the Russian Government, conveyed through Count Nesselrode,
alluded to in Mr. M’Neill’s letter of 19th of June last.”[126]
The letters of which Vickovich was the bearer, like those brought by
Burnes, were purely of a commercial tendency. One was from the Emperor
himself; the other from Count Simonich—written in the Russian and the
Persian languages. The authenticity of the letter from the Emperor has
been questioned.[127] The fact is, that it was one to be acknowledged
or repudiated, as most convenient. It was intended to satisfy Dost
Mahomed on the one hand, and to be suspected by the European allies of
Russia upon the other. That it came from the Cabinet of St. Petersburgh
there is now little room to doubt.
Burnes, however, for some time, was doubtful of the real character of
the agent and his credentials; but after some weeks of hesitation, he
wrote to Mr. Macnaghten, “Though a month and upwards has elapsed since
Mr. Vickovich reached Caubul, and my suspicions were from the first
excited regarding his real character, I have been unable to discover
anything to invalidate the credentials which he brought, or to cast
a doubt on his being other than he gives himself out, and this, too,
after much vigilance and inquiry.”
This was written on the 22nd of January. In the same letter Burnes
writes: “Mr. Vickovich himself has experienced but little attention
from the Ameer, and has yet received no reply to his communications. He
has been accommodated in a part of a house belonging to Meerza Samee
Khan, and is entertained at the public expense. He paid his respects
to the Ameer on the 12th of January, and has had no other personal
intercourse with him. He has been urging the Ameer to send an agent
to Count Simonich to receive the presents of the Emperor.” Nothing,
indeed, could have been more discouraging than the reception of the
Russian agent. Dost Mahomed still clung to the belief that the British
Government would look favourably upon his case, and was willing to
receive a little from England, rather than much from any other state.
But he soon began to perceive that even that little was not to be
obtained. Before the close of the month of January, Burnes had received
specific instructions from the Governor-General, and was compelled,
with the strongest feelings of reluctance and mortification, to
strangle the hopes Dost Mahomed had encouraged of the friendly
mediation of the British Government between the Ameer and Runjeet Singh.
The whole question of Peshawur was now fully discussed. Burnes, with
his instructions in his hand, miserably fettered and restrained,
enunciated the opinions of his government, from which he inwardly
dissented, and strove, in obedience to the orders he had received, to
make the worse appear the better reason. Dost Mahomed was moderate and
reasonable; and Burnes must have felt that the argument was all in
favour of the Ameer. That others, in higher place, thought so too, is
clearly indicated by the fact that pains have been taken to keep the
world in ignorance of what Dost Mahomed, on this occasion, advanced
with so much reason and moderation in reply to the official arguments
of the British agent, who was compelled to utter words which were
dictated neither by the feelings nor the judgment of the man.
In a letter of the 26th of January, which I now have before me in
an ungarbled state, Burnes forwarded to the Governor-General a full
account of the important conference between the Ameer and himself,
held after the receipt, by the latter, of instructions from the
Governor-General.[128] At this meeting Burnes communicated to Dost
Mahomed the sentiments of the Governor-General, and recommended the
Ameer, in accordance with the opinions expressed by Lord Auckland, to
waive his own claims to Peshawur, and be content with such arrangements
as Runjeet Singh might be inclined to enter into with Sultan Mahomed.
The Ameer replied that he bore no enmity against his brother, though
his brother was full of rancour against him, and would gladly compass
his destruction; but that with Sultan Mahomed, at Peshawur, he would
not be safe for a day; and that it would be less injurious to him to
leave it directly in the hands of the Sikhs, than in the hands of an
enemy ever ready to intrigue with the Sikhs for his overthrow.
“Peshawur,” said he, “has been conquered by the Sikhs; it belongs to
them; they may give it to whomsoever they please; if to Sultan Mahomed
Khan, they place it in the hands of one who is bent on injuring me;
and I cannot therefore acknowledge any degree of gratitude for your
interference, or take upon myself to render services in return.” And
then follow these mollifying sentences, which it was a gross injustice
to Dost Mahomed to omit from the published letter: “I admit,” said
the Ameer, “that it will be highly beneficial in many ways to see the
Sikhs once more eastward of the Indus, but I still can dispense with
none of my troops or relax in my precautionary measures, as equal if
not greater anxieties will attach to me. I have unbosomed myself to
you, and laid bare, without any suppression, my difficulties. I shall
bear in lively remembrance the intended good offices of the British
Government, and I shall deplore that my interest did not permit me
to accept that which was tendered in a spirit so friendly, but which
to me and my advisers has only seemed hastening my ruin. To Runjeet
Singh your interference is beneficial, as he finds himself involved in
serious difficulties by the possession of Peshawur, and he is too glad
of your good offices to escape from a place which is a burden to his
finances, but by that escape a debt of gratitude is exactible from him
and not from me; and if your government will look into this matter,
they will soon discover my opinions to be far from groundless, and my
conclusions the only safe policy I can pursue.”
The Ameer ceased to speak, and Jubbar Khan followed, proposing a
compromise. He suggested that it might be found advisable to deliver
over Peshawur conjointly to the Ameer and Sultan Mahomed—Runjeet Singh
receiving from the two chiefs the value which he might fix as the terms
of surrender. The Ameer observed that such an arrangement[129] would
remove his fears, and that if he appointed Jubbar Khan to represent him
at Peshawur he would be sure of an equitable adjustment of affairs.
Burnes replied in general terms that the withdrawal of the Sikhs to the
eastward of the Indus would be a vast benefit to the Afghan nation;
and asked Dost Mahomed whether he would rather see the Sikhs or Sultan
Mahomed in Peshawur. The Ameer replied that the question put in plain
words was a startling one; but he asked in return if that could be
considered beneficial to the Afghan nation which was especially
injurious to him who possessed the largest share of sovereignty
in Afghanistan. He then observed, in evidence of the truth of his
assertions relative to the dangers to which he was exposed from the
supremacy of Sultan Mahomed at Peshawur: “Sultan Mahomed Khan has just
sent an agent to the ex-King at Loodhianah (Shah Soojah) to offer his
services to combine against me and to secure my brothers at Candahar,
in support of this coalition.” “What security,” asked the Ameer, “am I
to receive against a recurrence of such practices?” He then continued:
“As for the ex-King himself, I fear him not; he has been too often
worsted to make head, unless he has aid from the British Government,
which I am now pretty certain he will never receive. If my brother at
Peshawur, however, under a promise of being made his minister, and
assisted with Sikh agents and money, appears in the field, I may find
that in expressing my satisfaction at his restoration to Peshawur,
I have been placing a snake in my bosom—and I may then, when too
late, lament that I did not let the Sikhs do their worst, instead of
replacing them by another description of enemies.”
All this was carefully erased from the letter before it was allowed
to form a part of the published Blue Book; and the following just
observations of Captain Burnes shared no better fate: “It has appeared
to me that they” (the opinions and views of the ruler of Caubul)
“call for much deliberation. It will be seen that the chief is not
bent on possessing Peshawur, or on gratifying an enmity towards his
brothers, but simply pursuing the worldly maxim of securing himself
from injury; the arguments which he has adduced seem deserving of
every consideration, and the more so when an avowed partisan of
Sultan Mahomed does not deny the justice of the Ameer’s objection.”
And further on, our agent observes: “Since arriving here, I have
seen an agent of Persia with alluring promises, after penetrating
as far as Candahar, compelled to quit the country because no one has
sent to invite him to Caubul. Following him, an agent of Russia with
letters highly complimentary, and promises more than substantial, has
experienced no more civility than is due by the laws of hospitality
and nations. It may be urged by some that the offers of one or both
were fallacious, but such a _dictum_ is certainly premature; the
Ameer of Caubul has sought no aid in his arguments from such offers,
but declared that his interests are bound up in an alliance with the
British Government, which he never will desert as long as there is a
hope of securing one.” There is much more in a similar strain—much
more cancelled from the published correspondence—with the deliberate
intention of injuring the character and misrepresenting the conduct of
Dost Mahomed, and so justifying their after-conduct towards him—but
enough has already been given to prove how mightily the Ameer has been
wronged.
I cannot, indeed, suppress the utterance of my abhorrence of this
system of garbling the official correspondence of public men—sending
the letters of a statesman or diplomatist into the world mutilated,
emasculated—the very pith and substance of them cut out by the
unsparing hand of the state-anatomist. The dishonesty by which lie
upon lie is palmed upon the world has not one redeeming feature.
If public men are, without reprehension, to be permitted to lie in
the face of nations—wilfully, elaborately, and maliciously to bear
false-witness against their neighbours, what hope is there for private
veracity? In the case before us, _the suppressio veri_ is virtually the
_assertio falsi_. The character of Dost Mahomed has been lied away; the
character of Burnes has been lied away. Both, by the mutilation of the
correspondence of the latter, have been fearfully misrepresented—both
have been set forth as doing what they did not, and omitting to do
what they did. I care not whose knife—whose hand did the work of
mutilation. And, indeed, I do not know. I deal with principles, not
with persons; and have no party ends to serve. The cause of truth must
be upheld. Official documents are the sheet-anchors of historians—the
last courts of appeal to which the public resort. If these documents
are tampered with; if they are made to misrepresent the words and
actions of public men, the grave of truth is dug, and there is seldom
a resurrection. It is not always that an afflicted parent is ready to
step forward on behalf of an injured child, and to lay a memorial at
the feet of his sovereign, exposing the cruelty by which an honourable
man has been represented in state documents, as doing that which was
abhorrent to his nature. In most cases the lie goes down, unassailed
and often unsuspected, to posterity; and in place of sober history, we
have a florid romance.
I ask pardon for this digression—In spite of the declarations of
Burnes that Dost Mahomed had little to hope from the co-operation of
the British Government, the Russian Mission made scant progress at the
Afghan capital. Alluding to the negotiations of our agent, Vickovich
wrote some time afterwards: “All this has occasioned Dost Mahomed
Khan to conduct himself very coldly towards me; and then, as he daily
converses with Burnes, from my arrival here to the 20th of February I
have hardly been two or three times in his presence.” The fact is, that
up to this time, as we are assured on the concurrent testimony of the
British and the Russian agent, the latter was received in a scurvy and
discouraging manner. But on the 21st of February letters were opened
from the Governor-General, stating, in the most decisive language, that
there was no intention to accede to the proposals of the Ameer, and
that Peshawur must be left to the Sikhs. Then, but not till then, a
change came over the conduct of Dost Mahomed, and the Russian Mission
began to rise in importance.
But still another effort was to be made by the Barukzyes to secure
the friendship of the British Government. On the 1st of March, Jubbar
Khan came in from his country-seat, and next morning called upon
Burnes. He had read Lord Auckland’s discouraging letter; but he still
believed that, through his agency, for he was notoriously friendly to
the British, something might yet be done. His efforts, however, were
fruitless. Burnes, tied down by his instructions, could give the Newab
no encouragement. The British Government called upon Dost Mahomed to
abstain from connecting himself with every other state; and promised,
as the price of this isolation, that they would restrain Runjeet Singh
from attacking his dominions; “And that,” said Jubbar Khan, “amounts to
nothing, for we are not under the apprehension of any aggressions from
the side of Lahore.”[130] The Peshawur difficulty, he said, might be
got over; but the offer of so little, in return for so much that was
asked from the Ameer, placed him in a most humiliating position, and
would, if accepted, lower him in the eyes of the world. Meerza Samee
Khan, next day, told the same story;[131] but fettered by the orders of
the Supreme Government, Burnes could give him no hope.
On the 5th of March, Jubbar Khan again appeared before Burnes with a
string of specific demands, dictated by the Ameer. “These consisted of
a promise to protect Caubul and Candahar from Persia; of the surrender
of Peshawur by Runjeet Singh; of the interference of our government
to protect, at that city, those who might return to it from Caubul,
supposing it to be restored to Sultan Mahomed Khan; with several other
proposals.” Upon this Burnes, with an expression of astonishment,
declared that, on the part of the British Government, he could accede
to none of these propositions; and added, that as he saw no hope of a
satisfactory adjustment, he should request his dismissal. “The Newab,”
said Burnes, “left me in sorrow.”
The British agent then sat down, and drew up a formal letter to
the Ameer, requesting leave to depart for Hindostan. In spite of
what had taken place, the letter somewhat startled the Ameer, who
summoned a meeting of his principal advisers, “which lasted till past
midnight.”[132] On the following morning the conference was resumed;
and about mid-day Meerza Samee Khan waited on Burnes, and invited him
to attend the Ameer in the Balla Hissar. Gracious and friendly even
beyond his ordinary courtesy and urbanity, Dost Mahomed expressed
his regret that the Governor-General had shown so little inclination
to meet his wishes; but added, that he did not even then despair of
forming an alliance advantageous both to England and Afghanistan.
A long argument then ensued; but it led to nothing. The old ground
was travelled over again and again. Burnes asked for everything;
but promised nothing. He had no power to make any concessions. The
meeting, though it ended amicably, was productive of no good results.
Burnes took his departure from the Balla Hissar. He might as well have
departed from Caubul.
On the 21st of March, the Ameer wrote a friendly letter to Lord
Auckland, imploring him, in language almost of humility, to “remedy
the grievances of the Afghans;” to “give them a little encouragement
and power.” It was the last despairing effort of the Afghan chief to
conciliate the good-will of the British Government. It failed. The
_fiat_ had gone forth. The judgment against him was not to be reversed.
Other meetings took place; but Burnes knew them to be mere formalities.
He remained at Caubul with no hope of bringing matters to a favourable
issue; but because it was convenient to remain. He was awaiting the
return from Koondooz of Dr. Lord and Lieutenant Wood. The month of
March passed away, and the greater part of April. These officers did
not rejoin the Mission. But one of the Candahar Sirdars, Mehr Dil
Khan, appeared at Caubul, with the object of winning over the Ameer to
the Persian alliance. The “do-nothing policy,” as Burnes subsequently
characterised it, had done its work. The Russians, as he said, had
given us the _coup-de-grace_. Vickovich was publicly sent for, and
paraded through the streets of Caubul. So Burnes determined to depart.
Accordingly, on the 26th of April, he turned his back upon the Afghan
capital.[133]
Burnes went; and Vickovich, who had risen greatly in favour, soon
took his departure for Herat, promising everything that Dost Mahomed
wanted—engaging to furnish money to the Barukzye chiefs, and
undertaking to propitiate Runjeet Singh.[134] The Russian quitted
Caubul, accompanied by Aboo Khan Barukzye, a confidential friend of
Dost Mahomed. It had been arranged that Azim Khan, the Ameer’s son,
accompanied by the minister, should be despatched to the Shah; but
this arrangement being set aside, in consequence of the scruples of
the Meerza, Aboo Khan was sent in their place. There were now no half
measures to be pursued. Dost Mahomed had flung himself into the arms of
the Persian King.
Vickovich was received with all honour in Western Afghanistan.[135]
Russian promises now began to carry everything before them. A treaty
between the Candahar brothers and the Shah was drawn up and signed
by the latter. The Russian ambassador to whom it was forwarded sent
it back to the Sirdars, saying, “Mahomed Shah has promised to give
you the possession of Herat: I sincerely tell you that you will also
get Ghorian, on my account, from the Shah.... When Mahomed Omar Khan
arrives here I will ask the Shah to quit Herat, and I will remain here
with 12,000 troops, and, when you join, we will take Herat, which will
afterwards be delivered to you,”—magnificent promises, most refreshing
to the souls of the Candahar chiefs. The letter was sent on to Dost
Mahomed; but it did not fill the heart of the Ameer with an equal
measure of delight. The Russian alliance was unpopular at Caubul.
It had “ruined him in the eyes of all Mahomedans.” It soon became
obvious, too, in spite of the fair beginning, that whilst he was losing
everything by the dissolution of his friendship with the British,
the Russians could really do nothing to assist him. Mahomed Shah was
wasting his strength before Herat. The Persian army, under the command
of the Sovereign himself, moved by Russian diplomacy and directed by
Russian skill, was only precipitating itself into an abyss of failure,
and the Candahar brethren, who had been promised so much, were linking
themselves with a decrepit cause, from which they were likely to gain
nothing. Soon other tidings came to alarm him. The Russian game was
nearly played out; and the resentment of the British was about to break
forth in a manner which threatened the total extinction of Barukzye
supremacy in Afghanistan. He looked out towards the West, and he could
plainly see that, in flinging himself upon Russo-Persian support, he
had trusted to a foundation of sand. The ground was shifting under his
feet. His new friends were not able to assist him. A subaltern of the
British army within the walls of Herat was setting them at defiance.
CHAPTER II.
[1837-1839.]
The Siege of Herat—Shah Kamran and Yar Mahomed—Return of the
Shah—Eldred Pottinger—Preparations for the Defence—Advance of the
Persian Army—Progress of the Siege—Negotiations for Peace—Failure of
the Attack—The Siege raised.
Surrounded by a fair expanse of country, where alternating corn-fields,
vineyards, and gardens varied the richness and beauty of the scene;
where little fortified villages studded the plain, and the bright
waters of small running streams lightened the pleasant landscape, lay
the city of Herat.[136] The beauty of the place was beyond the walls.
Within, all was dirt and desolation. Strongly fortified on every side
by a wet ditch and a solid outer wall, with five gates, each defended
by a small outwork, the city presented but few claims to the admiration
of the traveller. Four long bazaars, roofed with arched brickwork,
meeting in a small domed quadrangle in the centre of the city, divided
it into four quarters.[137] In each of these there may have been about
a thousand dwelling-houses and ten thousands of inhabitants. Mosques
and caravanserais, public baths and public reservoirs, varied the
wretched uniformity of the narrow dirty streets, which, roofed across,
were often little better than dark tunnels or conduits, where every
conceivable description of filth was suffered to collect and putrify.
When Arthur Conolly expressed his wonder how the people could live in
the midst of so much filth, he was answered, “The climate is fine; and
if dirt killed people where would the Afghans be?”[138]
Such to the eye of an ordinary traveller, in search of the picturesque,
was the aspect of the city and its environs at the time when the
army of Mahomed Shah was marching upon Herat. To the mind of the
military observer both the position and construction of the place
were suggestive of much interesting speculation. Situated at that
point of the great mountain-range which alone presents facilities
to the transport of a train of heavy artillery, Herat has, with no
impropriety of designation, been described as the “Gate of India.”
Within the limits of the Heratee territory all the great roads leading
on India converge. At other points, between Herat and Caubul, a body of
troops unencumbered with guns, or having only a light field artillery,
might make good its passage, if not actively opposed, across the
stupendous mountain-ranges of the Hindoo-Koosh; but it is only by the
Herat route that a really formidable well-equipped army could make
its way upon the Indian frontier from the regions on the north-west.
Both the nature and the resources of the country are such as to favour
the success of the invader. All the materials necessary for the
organisation of a great army, and the formation of his dépôts, are to
be found in the neighbourhood of Herat. The extraordinary fertility of
the plain has fairly entitled it to be called the “Granary of Central
Asia.” Its mines supply lead, iron, and sulphur; the surface of the
country, in almost every direction, is laden with saltpetre; the willow
and poplar trees, which furnish the best charcoal, flourish in all
parts of the country; whilst from the population might at any time be
drawn hardy and docile soldiers to recruit the ranks of an invading
army.[139] Upon the possession of such country would depend, in no
small measure, the success of operations undertaken for the invasion or
the defence of Hindostan.
The city of Herat, it has been said, stood within solid earthen
walls, surrounded by a wet ditch. The four sides were of nearly equal
length, a little less than a mile in extent, facing towards the four
points of the compass. The most elevated quarter of the city was the
north-east, from which it gradually sloped down to the south-west
corner, where it attained its lowest descent.[140] The real defences
of the place were two covered ways, or _fausse-braies_, on the
exterior slope of the embankments, one within and the other without
the ditch. The lower one was on the level of the surrounding country,
its parapet “partly covered by a mound of earth on the counterscarp,
the accumulation of rubbish from the cleansings of the ditch.” On the
northern side, surrounded by a wet ditch, the citadel, once known as
the Kella-i-Aktyar-Aldyn, but now as the Ark, overlooked the city.
Built entirely of good brick masonry, with lofty ramparts and numerous
towers, it was a place of considerable strength; but now its defences,
long neglected, were in a wretched state of repair. Indeed, when, in
1837, tidings of the advance of the Persian army reached Herat, the
whole extent of the fortifications was crumbling into decay.
The population of Herat was estimated at about 45,000 inhabitants. A
large majority of these were _Sheeahs_. It was said that there might
have been 1000 Hindoos, of various callings, in the city; there were
several families of Armenians, and a few families of Jews. The general
appearance of the inhabitants was that of a poor and an oppressed
people. Dirty and ill-clad, they went about in a hurried, anxious
manner, each man looking with suspicion into his neighbour’s face.
Few women were to be seen in the streets. It was hardly safe for a
stranger to be abroad after sunset. Unless protected by an armed
escort, there was too great a likelihood of his being seized and sold
into slavery. There was no protection for life, liberty, or property.
They who should have protected the people were the foremost of their
oppressors. During the absence of the King, in 1837, such was the
frightful misrule—such the reign of terror that had been established by
the chartered violence of the rulers of the city, that the shops were
closed before sunset, and all through the night the noise and uproar,
the challengings and the cries for help were such as could scarcely
have been exceeded if the place had been actually besieged. A son of
Yar Mahomed Khan, the Wuzeer, was then governor of the city. Compelled
to hold office upon a small salary, he enriched himself by plundering
the houses of the inhabitants, and selling the people into slavery. All
who were strong enough followed his example, and when detected, secured
immunity for themselves by giving him a portion of the spoil.[141]
So remorseless, indeed, was the tyranny exercised over the unhappy
Sheeahs by their Afghan masters, that many of the inhabitants of Herat
looked forward to the coming of the Persian King as to the advent of
a deliverer, and would gladly have seen the city given over to the
governance of one who, whatever may have been his political claims, was
not an alien in his religious faith.[142]
Such was the last remnant of the old Afghan monarchy in the hands of
Shah Kamran—the only one of the Suddozye Princes who had retained his
hold of the country he had governed. His government was at this time a
pageant and a name. An old and a feeble man, broken down by long years
of debauchery, he had resigned the active duties of administration
into the hands of his Wuzeer. He was, perhaps, the worst of the royal
princes—the worst of a bad race. His youth had been stained by the
commission of every kind of Oriental crime; and now in his old age, if
the evil passions of his nature were less prominently developed, it
was only because physical decay had limited his power to indulge them.
In his younger days he had set no restraint upon himself, and now it
was nature only that restrained him. The violent gusts of passion,
which had once threatened all who were within his influence, had given
place to an almost incessant peevishness and petulance of manner, more
pitiable to behold than it was dangerous to encounter. He had once
played openly the part of the bandit—placing himself at the head of
gangs of armed retainers, plundering houses by night and slaying all
who opposed him; now he suffered others to commit the violence which he
had before personally enacted, and oppressed, by deputy, the weakness
which he could not see smitten before his face. He had once been
immoderately addicted to sensual pleasure, and in the pursuit of such
gratification—arrested by no feelings of compassion, by no visitings of
remorse—had violently seized the objects of his desires, to whomsoever
they belonged, and cast them adrift when his appetite was sated; now
he sought excitement of another kind, to which age and feebleness were
no impediments, and turned from the caresses of women to seek solace
from the stimulants of wine. Unfaithful to his friends and unmerciful
to his enemies, ingratitude and cruelty were conspicuous in his nature,
and these darker features of his character there was little to lighten
or relieve. Among his countrymen he was esteemed for a certain kind of
courage, and in his younger days he had not been wanting in activity
and address.[143] Though naturally haughty and arrogant, there were
times when he could assume, for his own ends, a becoming courtesy of
demeanour; and, as by assiduous attention to costume, he endeavoured to
compensate for the deficiencies of an unattractive person, there was
something of a high and princely aspect about the outward bearing even
of this degraded man. Short and thickset, with misshapen limbs and an
unseemly gait, his appearance was more comely in repose than in action.
His face was pitted with the small-pox, and there was a harshness in
his countenance stamped by the long possession of arbitrary power and
the indulgence of unbridled passions; but he had a finer, more massive,
more upright forehead, than the majority of his countrymen, with more
of intellect impressed upon it. His voice had once been loud and deep;
but the feebleness of age, much sickness, and much suffering, had
given a querulousness to its tones which was equally undignified and
unpleasing.