The choice fell on Mr. Macnaghten. It seems, at one time, to have been

the design of the Governor-General to associate this gentleman with the

Commander-in-Chief, in a kind of Commission for the management of our

political relations throughout the coming expedition;[261] but this

idea seems to have been abandoned. It was finally determined that Mr.

W. H. Macnaghten should be gazetted as “Envoy and Minister on the part

of the Government of India at the Court of Shah Soojah-ool-Moolk.”

And at the same time it was resolved that Captain Burnes should be

employed, “under Mr. Macnaghten’s directions, as Envoy to the chief

of Kelat or other states.” It was believed, at this time, that Shah

Soojah having been reseated on the throne, Macnaghten would return to

Hindostan, leaving Burnes at Caubul, as the permanent representative

of the British-Indian Government at the Court of the Shah. It was this

belief that reconciled Burnes to the subordinate office which was

conferred upon him in the first instance, and made him set about the

work entrusted to his charge with all the zeal and enthusiasm which

were so conspicuous in his character.[262]

And so Burnes was sent on in advance to smooth the way for the progress

of the Shah through Sindh, whilst Macnaghten remained at Simlah to

assist the Governor-General in the preparation of the great official

manifesto which was to declare to all the nations of the East and of

the West the grounds upon which the British Government had determined

to destroy the power of the Barukzye Sirdars, and to restore Shah

Soojah-ool-Moolk to the throne of his ancestors.

On the 1st of October the manifesto, long and anxiously pondered

over in the bureau of the Governor-General, received the official

signature and was sent to the press. Never, since the English in India

first began the work of King-making, had a more remarkable document

issued from the council-chamber of an Anglo-Indian viceroy. It ran in

the following words, not one of which should be omitted from such a

narrative as this:

DECLARATION ON THE PART OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE GOVERNOR-GENERAL OF

INDIA.

Simlah, _October, 1, 1838_.

The Right Hon. the Governor-General of India having, with the

concurrence of the Supreme Council, directed the assemblage of a

British force for service across the Indus, his Lordship deems it

proper to publish the following exposition of the reasons which have

led to this important measure.

It is a matter of notoriety that the treaties entered into by the

British Government in the year 1832, with the Ameers of Sindh, the

Newab of Bhawalpore, and Maharajah Runjeet Singh, had for their

object, by opening the navigation of the Indus, to facilitate the

extension of commerce, and to gain for the British nation in Central

Asia that, legitimate influence which an interchange of benefits would

naturally produce.

With a view to invite the aid of the _de facto_ rulers of Afghanistan

to the measures necessary for giving full effect to those treaties,

Captain Burnes was deputed, towards the close of the year 1836, on

a mission to Dost Mahomed Khan, the chief of Caubul. The original

objects of that officer’s mission were purely of a commercial nature.

Whilst Captain Burnes, however, was on his journey to Caubul,

information was received by the Governor-General that the troops of

Dost Mahomed Khan had made a sudden and unprovoked attack on those

of our ancient ally, Maharajah Runjeet Singh. It was naturally to

be apprehended that his Highness the Maharajah would not be slow to

avenge the aggression; and it was to be feared that, the flames of war

being once kindled in the very regions into which we were endeavouring

to extend our commerce, the peaceful and beneficial purposes of the

British Government would be altogether frustrated. In order to avert

a result so calamitous, the Governor-General resolved on authorising

Captain Burnes to intimate to Dost Mahomed Khan, that if he should

evince a disposition to come to just and reasonable terms with the

Maharajah, his Lordship would exert his good offices with his Highness

for the restoration of an amicable understanding between the two

powers. The Maharajah, with the characteristic confidence which he has

uniformly placed in the faith and friendship of the British nation,

at once assented to the proposition of the Governor-General, to the

effect that, in the mean time, hostilities on his part should be

suspended.

It subsequently came to the knowledge of the Governor-General that

a Persian army was besieging Herat; that intrigues were actively

prosecuted throughout Afghanistan, for the purpose of extending

Persian influence and authority to the banks of, and even beyond,

the Indus; and that the Court of Persia had not only commenced a

course of injury and insult to the officers of her Majesty’s Mission

in the Persian territory, but had afforded evidence of being engaged

in designs wholly at variance with the principles and objects of its

alliance with Great Britain.

After much time spent by Captain Burnes in fruitless negotiation at

Caubul, it appeared that Dost Mahomed Khan, chiefly in consequence of

his reliance upon Persian encouragement and assistance, persisted,

as respected his misunderstanding with the Sikhs, in urging the

most unreasonable pretensions, such as the Governor-General could

not, consistently with justice and his regard for the friendship

of Maharajah Runjeet Singh, be the channel of submitting to

the consideration of his Highness; that he avowed schemes of

aggrandisement and ambition injurious to the security and peace of the

frontiers of India; and that he openly threatened, in furtherance of

those schemes, to call in every foreign aid which he could command.

Ultimately he gave his undisguised support to the Persian designs in

Afghanistan, of the unfriendly and injurious character of which, as

concerned the British power in India, he was well apprised, and by his

utter disregard of the views and interests of the British Government,

compelled Captain Burnes to leave Caubul without having effected any

of the objects of his mission.

It was now evident that no further interference could be exercised by

the British Government to bring about a good understanding between

the Sikh ruler and Dost Mahomed Khan, and the hostile policy of the

latter chief showed too plainly that, so long as Caubul remained under

his government, we could never hope that the tranquillity of our

neighbourhood would be secured, or that the interests of our Indian

Empire would be preserved inviolate.

The Governor-General deems it in this place necessary to revert to the

siege of Herat, and the conduct of the Persian nation. The siege of

that city has now been carried on by the Persian army for many months.

The attack upon it was a most unjustifiable and cruel aggression,

perpetrated and continued, notwithstanding the solemn and repeated

remonstrances of the British Envoy at the Court of Persia, and after

every just and becoming offer of accommodation had been made and

rejected. The besieged have behaved with a gallantry and fortitude

worthy of the justice of their cause; and the Governor-General would

yet indulge the hope that their heroism may enable them to maintain

a successful defence, until succours shall reach them from British

India. In the meantime, the ulterior designs of Persia, affecting

the interests of the British Government, have been, by a succession

of events, more and more openly manifested. The Governor-General has

recently ascertained by an official despatch from Mr. M’Neill, her

Majesty’s Envoy, that his Excellency has been compelled, by a refusal

of his just demands, and by a systematic course of disrespect adopted

towards him by the Persian Government, to quit the Court of the Shah,

and to make a public declaration of the cessation of all intercourse

between the two Governments. The necessity under which Great Britain

is placed of regarding the present advance of the Persian arms into

Afghanistan as an act of hostility towards herself, has also been

officially communicated to the Shah, under the express order of her

Majesty’s Government.

The chiefs of Candahar (brothers of Dost Mahomed Khan of Caubul) have

avowed their adherence to the Persian policy, with the same full

knowledge of its opposition to the rights and interests of the British

nation in India, and have been openly assisting in the operations

against Herat.

In the crisis of affairs consequent upon the retirement of our Envoy

from Caubul, the Governor-General felt the importance of taking

immediate measures for arresting the rapid progress of foreign

intrigue and aggression towards our own territories.

His attention was naturally drawn at this conjuncture to the position

and claims of Shah Soojah-ool-Moolk, a monarch who, when in power, had

cordially acceded to the measures of united resistance to external

enmity, which were at that time judged necessary by the British

Government, and who, on his empire being usurped by its present

rulers, had found an honourable asylum in the British dominions.

It had been clearly ascertained, from the information furnished by

the various officers who have visited Afghanistan, that the Barukzye

chiefs, from their disunion and unpopularity, were ill fitted, under

any circumstances, to be useful allies to the British Government, and

to aid us in our just and necessary measures of national defence. Yet

so long as they refrained from proceedings injurious to our interests

and security, the British Government acknowledged and respected

their authority; but a different policy appeared to be now more than

justified by the conduct of those chiefs, and to be indispensable to

our own safety. The welfare of our possessions in the East requires

that we should have on our western frontier an ally who is interested

in resisting aggression, and establishing tranquillity, in the place

of chiefs ranging themselves in subservience to a hostile power, and

seeking to promote schemes of conquest and aggrandisement.

After serious and mature deliberation, the Governor-General was

satisfied that a pressing necessity, as well as every consideration

of policy and justice, warranted us in espousing the cause of Shah

Soojah-ool-Moolk, whose popularity throughout Afghanistan had been

proved to his Lordship by the strong and unanimous testimony of

the best authorities. Having arrived at this determination, the

Governor-General was further of opinion that it was just and proper,

no less from the position of Maharajah Runjeet Singh, than from his

undeviating friendship towards the British Government, that his

Highness should have the offer of becoming a party to the contemplated

operations.

Mr. Macnaghten was accordingly deputed in June last to the Court of

his Highness, and the result of his mission has been the conclusion of

a triplicate treaty by the British Government, the Maharajah, and Shah

Soojah-ool-Moolk, whereby his Highness is guaranteed in his present

possessions, and has bound himself to co-operate for the restoration

of the Shah to the throne of his ancestors. The friends and enemies

of any one of the contracting parties have been declared to be the

friends and enemies of all.

Various points have been adjusted, which had been the subjects

of discussion between the British Government and his Highness

the Maharajah, the identity of whose interests with those of the

Honourable Company has now been made apparent to all the surrounding

States. A guaranteed independence will, upon favourable conditions, be

tendered to the Ameers of Sindh, and the integrity of Herat, in the

possession of its present ruler, will be fully respected; while by the

measures completed, or in progress, it may reasonably be hoped that

the general freedom and security of commerce will be promoted; that

the name and just influence of the British Government will gain their

proper footing among the nations of Central Asia; that tranquillity

will be established upon the most important frontier of India; and

that a lasting barrier will be raised against hostile intrigue and

encroachment.

His Majesty, Shah Soojah-ool-Moolk will enter Afghanistan, surrounded

by his own troops, and will be supported against foreign interference

and factious opposition by a British army. The Governor-General

confidently hopes that the Shah will be speedily replaced on his

throne by his own subjects and adherents; and when once he shall be

secured in power, and the independence and integrity of Afghanistan

established, the British army will be withdrawn. The Governor-General

has been led to these measures by the duty which is imposed upon

him of providing for the security of the possessions of the British

Crown; but, he rejoices that, in the discharge of his duty, he will be

enabled to assist in restoring the union and prosperity of the Afghan

people. Throughout the approaching operations, British influence will

be sedulously employed to further every measure of general benefit, to

reconcile differences, to secure oblivion of injuries, and to put an

end to the distractions by which, for so many years, the welfare and

happiness of the Afghans have been impaired. Even to the chiefs, whose

hostile proceedings have given just cause of offence to the British

Government, it will seek to secure liberal and honourable treatment,

on their tendering early submission, and ceasing from opposition to

that course of measures which may be judged the most suitable for the

general advantage of their country.

By order of the Right Hon. Governor-General of India.

W. H. MACNAGHTEN,

Secretary to the Government of India, with the

Governor-General.

NOTIFICATION.

With reference to the preceding Declaration, the following

appointments are made:—Mr. W. H. Macnaghten, Secretary to Government,

will assume the functions of Envoy and Minister on the part of the

Government of India at the Court of Shah Soojah-ool-Moolk. Mr.

Macnaghten will be assisted by the following officers:—Captain A.

Burnes, of the Bombay establishment, who will be employed, under Mr.

Macnaghten’s directions, as Envoy to the Chief of Kelat, or other

States; Lieutenant E. d’Arcy Todd, Bengal Artillery, to be Political

Assistant and Military Secretary to the Envoy and Minister; Lieutenant

Eldred Pottinger, Bombay Artillery; Lieutenant R. Leech, of the Bombay

Engineers; Mr. P. B. Lord, of the Bombay Medical Establishment, to be

Political Assistants to ditto, ditto; Lieutenant E. B. Conolly, 6th

Bengal Cavalry, to command the escort of the Envoy and Minister, and

to be Military Assistant to ditto, ditto; Mr. G. J. Berwick, of the

Bengal Medical Establishment, to be Surgeon to ditto, ditto.

W. H. MACNAGHTEN,

Secretary to the Government of India, with the

Governor-General.

It was not to be supposed that such a manifesto as this could be

published in every newspaper in India and in Europe, and circulated,

in an Oriental dress, throughout all the states of Hindostan and

the adjoining countries, without provoking the keenest and the most

searching criticism. In India there is, in reality, no Public; but

if such a name can be given to the handful of English gentlemen who

discuss with little reserve the affairs of the government under which

they live, the public looked askance at it—doubting and questioning its

truth. The Press seized upon it and tore it to pieces.[263] There was

not a sentence in it that was not dissected with an unsparing hand. If

it were not pronounced to be a collection of absolute falsehoods, it

was described as a most disingenuous distortion of the truth. In India

every war is more or less popular. The constitution of Anglo-Indian

society renders it almost impossible that it should be otherwise. But

many wished that they were about to draw their swords in a better

cause; and openly criticised the Governor-General’s declaration, whilst

they inwardly rejoiced that it had been issued.

Had the relief of Herat been the one avowed object of the expedition,

a war now to be undertaken for that purpose would have had many

supporters.[264] The movement might have been a wise, or it might

have been an unwise one; but it would have been an intelligible,

straightforward movement, with nothing equivocal about it. It would

have been addressed to the counteraction of a real, or supposed danger,

and would have been plainly justifiable as a measure of self-defence.

But it was not equally clear that because Mahomed Shah made war upon

Herat, England was justified in making war upon Dost Mahomed. The

siege of Herat and the failure of the Caubul Mission were mixed up

together in Lord Auckland’s manifesto; but with all his own and his

secretary’s ingenuity, his Lordship could not contrive, any more than I

have contrived in this narrative, to make the two events hang together

by any other than the slenderest thread. It was believed at this time

that Herat would fall; and that Candahar and Caubul would then make

their obeisance to Mahomed Shah. But we had ourselves alienated the

friendship of the Barukzye Sirdars. They had thrown themselves into the

arms of the Persian King, only because we had thrust them off. We had

forced them into an attitude of hostility which they were unwilling

to assume; and had ourselves aggravated the dangers which we were now

about to face on the western frontier of Afghanistan. That in the

summer of 1838, there existed a state of things calling for active

measures on the part of the British Government is not to be denied; but

I believe it to be equally undeniable that this state of things was

mainly induced by the feebleness of our own policy towards the Barukzye

Sirdars.

The comments which might be made in this place on Lord Auckland’s

Simlah manifesto have been, for the most part, anticipated. How far

Dost Mahomed “persisted in using the most unreasonable pretensions,”

and “avowed schemes of aggrandisement and ambition, injurious to

the security and peace of the frontiers of India,” I have shown in

a former chapter. I have shown, too, how far the best authorities

were of opinion that the Barukzye Sirdars were “ill-fitted, under

any circumstances, to be useful allies to the British.”[265] Little

comment is called for beyond that involved in the recital of facts, the

studious suppression of which by the Government of the day is the best

proof of the importance attached to them.[266]

The oldest, the most experienced, and the most sagacious Indian

politicians were of opinion that the expedition, though it might be

attended at the outset with some delusive success, would close in

disaster and disgrace. Among those, who most emphatically disapproved

of the movement and predicted its failure, were the Duke of Wellington,

Lord Wellesley, Sir Charles Metcalfe, Mr. Edmonstone, Mountstuart

Elphinstone, Sir Henry Willock, and Mr. Tucker.

The Duke of Wellington said that our difficulties would commence where

our military successes ended. “The consequence of crossing the Indus,”

he wrote to Mr. Tucker, “once to settle a government in Afghanistan,

will be a perennial march into that country.” Lord Wellesley always

spoke contemptuously of the folly of occupying a land of “rocks, sands,

deserts, ice and snow.” Sir Charles Metcalfe from the first protested

against Lord Auckland’s measures with respect to the trade of the

Indus; and in 1835-36, when Mr. Ellis’s proposal to assist Dost Mahomed

with British officers and drill-instructors to discipline his army,

came down to Calcutta, said, one day after council, “Depend upon it,

the surest way to bring Russia down upon ourselves is for us to cross

the Indus and meddle with the countries beyond it.” Mr. Edmonstone

always hung down his head, and almost groaned aloud, when the Afghan

expedition was named. Mr. Elphinstone wrote in a private letter to

Sir A. Burnes: “You will guess what I think of affairs in Caubul. You

remember when I used to dispute with you against having even an agent

in Caubul, and now we have assumed the protection of the state, as

much as if it were one of the subsidiary allies in India. If you send

27,000 men up the _Durra-i-Bolan_ to Candahar (as we hear is intended),

and can feed them, I have no doubt you will take Candahar and Caubul

and set up Soojah; but for maintaining him in a poor, cold, strong,

and remote country, among a turbulent people like the Afghans, I own

it seems to me to be hopeless. If you succeed, I fear you will weaken

the position against Russia. The Afghans were neutral, and would have

received your aid against invaders with gratitude—they will now be

disaffected and glad to join any invader to drive you out. I never

knew a close alliance between a civilised and an uncivilised state

that did not end in mutual hatred in three years. If the restraint of

a close connection with us were not enough to make us unpopular, the

connection with Runjeet and our guarantee of his conquests must make us

detested. These opinions formed at a distance may seem absurd on the

spot; but I still retain them notwithstanding all I have yet heard.”

Sir Henry Willock, whose extensive local knowledge and long experience

entitled his opinions to respect, addressed a long letter to the

Foreign Secretary, in which he elaborately reviewed the mistake which

had been committed. And Mr. Tucker, in the Court of Directors, and out

of the Court, lost no opportunity of protesting against the expedition

in his manly uncompromising way. “We have contracted an alliance with

Shah Soojah,” he wrote to the Duke of Wellington, “and have appointed

a minister to his Court, although he does not possess a rood of ground

in Afghanistan, nor a rupee which he does not derive from our bounty,

as a quondam pensioner. We thus embroil ourselves in all the intricate

and perplexed concerns of the Afghan tribes. We place Dost Mahomed,

the _de facto_ sovereign in open hostility against us; we alienate the

Prince Kamran of Herat, who is nearer than Shah Soojah in the line of

succession of the Douranee Family; and even if we succeed in ousting

Dost Mahomed and placing Shah Soojah on the throne of Caubul, we must

maintain him in the government by a large military force, at the

distance of 800 miles from our frontier and our resources.”

As a body the Court of Directors of the East India Company were

strongly opposed to the war, and had no part in its initiation beyond

the performance of such mechanical duties as are prescribed by act

of Parliament. The members of the Secret Committee are compelled to

sign the despatches laid before them by the Board of Control; and the

President of the Board of Control has unreservedly admitted that,

beyond the mere mechanical act of signing the papers laid before them,

they had no part in the recommendation or authorisation of the war.

The policy of the East India Company is a policy of non-interference.

They had seldom lost an opportunity of inculcating upon their governors

the expediency of refraining from intermeddling with the Trans-Indian

states.[267] The temper, indeed, of this great body is essentially

pacific; all the instructions which emanate from them have a tendency

towards the preservation of peace and the non-extension of empire; and

when the merits and demerits of their government come to be weighed in

the balance, it can never be imputed to them that they have been eager

to draw the sword from the scabbard, or have willingly squandered the

resources of India upon unjust and unprofitable wars.

But it is stated in the manifesto itself that the war was undertaken

“with the concurrence of the Supreme Council of India.” It would

be presumptuous to affirm the absolute untruth of a statement thus

publicly made in the face of the world by a nobleman of Lord Auckland’s

unquestionable integrity; but so certain is it that the manifesto was

not issued with the concurrence of the Supreme Council, that when the

document was sent down to Calcutta to take its place among the records

of the empire, there issued from the Council-Chamber a respectful

remonstrance against the consummation of a measure of such grave

importance, without an opportunity being afforded to the counsellors

of recording their opinions upon it. The remonstrance went to England,

and elicited an assurance to the effect that the Governor-General could

have intended no personal slight to the members of the Supreme Council;

but those members were far too high-minded to have thought for a moment

about the personalities of the case; they thought only of the great

national interests at stake, and regretted that they should ever be

jeopardised by such disregard of the opinions of the Governor-General’s

legitimate advisers. Such a manifesto as this would never have been

cradled in Calcutta.

It would not be just, however, to scrutinise the policy of Lord

Auckland at this time by the light of our after experience. We know

now, that before the Simlah manifesto was issued, the Persians

had raised the siege of Herat,—that, for all purposes of defence

against encroachments from the westward, the expedition to Kurrack,

contemptible as it was in itself, had sufficed. We know that the

handful of “rotten Hindoos,” as Mahomed Shah subsequently designated

them, magnified by report into an immense armament, had caused that

monarch to strike his camp before Herat, and march back his baffled

army to Teheran. But, on the 1st of October, 1838, Lord Auckland

believed, and had good grounds for believing, that the fall of Herat

was inevitable. At this time it may have been questioned whether the

restoration of Shah Soojah to the sovereignty of the Douranee Empire

were the best means of resisting Persian aggression and combating

Russian intrigue, but few doubted the propriety of doing something

to meet the dangers that threatened us from those sources. Had Herat

fallen to the Persian arms, the Barukzye Sirdars, without some

intervention on our part, would have prostrated themselves at the feet

of the Persian monarch; and Russia would have established an influence

in Afghanistan which we should have striven in vain to counteract.

There was a real danger, therefore, to be feared. Though the means

employed were of doubtful justice and expediency, the end to be

accomplished was one of legitimate attainment.

But before the Simlah proclamation had obtained general currency

throughout India, authentic intelligence of the retrograde movement

of the Persian army had reached the camp of the Governor-General. The

tidings which arrived, in the first instance, from various native

sources, and had been conveyed to Lord Auckland by the political

officers on the frontier, were now officially confirmed. The siege of

Herat had been raised. Mahomed Shah had “mounted his horse, Ameerj,”

and turned his face towards his own capital. The legitimate object

of the expedition across the Indus was gone. All that remained was

usurpation and aggression. It was believed, therefore, that the army

assembling on the north-western frontier would be broken up; and Shah

Soojah and Runjeet Singh left to pursue their own policy, as might

seem most expedient to them. The Simlah proclamation had placed the

siege of Herat in the foreground as the main cause of the contemplated

expedition; and now that the pretext for the invasion of Afghanistan

was removed, political consistency seemed to require that the sword

should be returned to the scabbard. With no common anxiety, therefore,

was the result of this unexpected intelligence from Herat awaited by

the regiments which had been warned for active service, and were now

in all the excitement of preparation for a long and adventurous march.

The disappointment anticipated by many descended only upon a few. On

the 8th of November, all doubts were set at rest, and all anxieties

removed by the publication of an order by the Governor-General, setting

forth that, although the siege of Herat had been raised, the expedition

across the Indus would not be abandoned:

ORDERS BY THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE GOVERNOR-GENERAL OF INDIA. SECRET

DEPARTMENT.

Camp de Buddee, _8th November_.

The Right Honourable the Governor-General of India is pleased to

publish, for general information, the subjoined extract of a letter

from Lieutenant-Colonel Stoddart, dated Herat, the 10th September,

1838, and addressed to the Secretary to the Government of India.

“I have the honour, by direction of her Britannic Majesty’s Envoy

Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary, and the Hon. East India

Company’s Envoy at the Court of Persia, to acquaint you, for the

information of the Right Hon. the Governor-General of India in

Council, that his Majesty the Shah of Persia yesterday raised the

siege of this city, and with the whole of the royal camp marched to

Sangbust, about twelve miles, on his return to his own dominions. His

Majesty proceeds without delay, by Torrbut Sheki Jaum and Meshid, to

Teheran.

“This is in fulfilment of his Majesty’s compliance with the demands

of the British Government, which I had the honour of delivering on

the 12th inst., and of the whole of which his Majesty announced his

acceptance on the 14th of August.

“His Majesty Shah Kamran and his Vuzeer, Yar Mahomed Khan, and the

whole city, feel sensible of the sincerity of the friendship of the

British Government, and Mr. Pottinger and myself fully participate

in their gratitude to Providence for the happy event I have now the

honour to report.”

In giving publicity to this important intelligence, the

Governor-General deems it proper at the same time to notify, that

while he regards the relinquishment by the Shah of Persia of his

hostile designs upon Herat as a just cause of congratulation to the

Government of British India and its allies, he will continue to

prosecute with vigour the measures which have been announced, with

a view to the substitution of a friendly for a hostile power in the

eastern provinces of Afghanistan, and to the establishment of a

permanent barrier against schemes of aggression upon our north-west

frontier.

The Right Hon. the Governor-General is pleased to appoint Lieutenant

Eldred Pottinger, of the Bombay Artillery, to be Political Agent at

Herat, subject to the orders of the Envoy and Minister at the Court of

Shah Soojah-ool-Moolk. This appointment is to have effect from the 9th

of September last, the date on which the siege of Herat was raised by

the Shah of Persia.

In conferring the above appointment upon Lieutenant Pottinger, the

Governor-General is glad of the opportunity afforded him of bestowing

the high applause which is due to the signal merits of that officer,

who was present in Herat during the whole period of its protracted

siege, and who, under circumstances of peculiar danger and difficulty,

has, by his fortitude, ability, and judgment, honourably sustained the

reputation and interests of his country.

By order of the Right Hon. the Governor-General of India,

W. H. MACNAGHTEN,

Secretary to the Government of India, with the

Governor-General.

When the Persian army was before Herat—when the Afghan garrison was

on the eve of surrender—when the chiefs of Caubul and Candahar were

prostrating themselves at the feet of Mahomed Shah, the expedition

for the restoration of Shah Soojah was one of doubtful honesty and

doubtful expediency. The retrogression of the Persian army removed it

at once from the category of questionable acts. There was no longer

any question about it. The failure of Mahomed Shah cut from under the

feet of Lord Auckland all ground of justification, and rendered the

expedition across the Indus at once a folly and a crime. The tripartite

treaty did not pledge the British Government to send a single soldier

beyond the frontier. The despatch of a British army into the heart of

Afghanistan was no part of the covenant either with Runjeet Singh or

Shah Soojah. It was wholly an after thought. When Macnaghten, after

his conferences with the Maharajah of the Punjab and the ex-King of

Caubul, returned to Simlah to lay the result of his mission before

the Governor-General, the British Government had pledged itself only

to furnish a handful of European officers to raise and discipline the

Shah’s regiments; and so little had any obligation been imposed upon us

to surround the ex-King with our battalions, on his restoration to his

old dominions, that he himself expressed an eager hope that he would be

suffered to advance as an independent prince, and not as a mere puppet

in our hands.[268]

To march a British army into Afghanistan was not, therefore, an

obligation upon the Indian Government; it was their deliberate choice.

The avowed object of the expedition, as set forth in the November

declaration, was the establishment of a friendly power in Afghanistan.

But the subversion of an existing dynasty could only be justified on

the ground that its hostility threatened to disturb the peace and

tranquillity of our own dominions. Whatever the hostility of the

Barukzye Sirdahs may have been when Mahomed Shah was before the gates

of Herat, it had now ceased to be formidable. It was obvious that the

chiefs of Caubul and Candahar were little likely to exaggerate the

power of a Prince that had brought all his military resources to bear

upon the reduction of a place of no reputed strength, and, after an

ineffectual struggle of nine months’ duration, had retreated, either

because he was unequal to the longer continuance of the contest, or

because the British Government had landed 500 Sepoys on an island in

the Persian Gulf. It was only in connection with the Russo-Persian

movement that an alliance with the rulers of Afghanistan had become

a matter of concernment to the British Government. It was only by

a reference to the crisis which had thus arisen that the Indian

Government could in any way justify their departure from the course of

non-interference laid down by the Court of Directors, and recognised

by Lord Auckland and his predecessors. But now that the danger, to the

counteraction of which the expedition across the Indus was directed,

had passed away, the expedition was still to be undertaken. A measure

so hazardous, and so costly as the march of a British army to the foot

of the Hindoo-Koosh, was only justifiable so long as it was absolutely

indispensable to the defence of our Indian possessions; but if so

extreme a measure had ever been, it was no longer necessary to the

security of India, now that the army of Mahomed Shah, defeated and

disgraced, was on its way back to the capital of Persia. The expedition

now to be undertaken had no longer any other ostensible object than

the substitution of a monarch, whom the people of Afghanistan had

repeatedly, in emphatic, scriptural language, spued out, for those

Barukzye chiefs who, whatever may have been the defects of their

government, had contrived to maintain themselves in security, and their

country in peace, with a vigour and a constancy unknown to the luckless

Suddozye Princes. Had we started with the certainty of establishing a

friendly power and a strong government in Afghanistan, the importance

of the end would have borne no just relation to the magnitude of the

means to be employed for its accomplishment. But at the best it was

a mere experiment. There were more reasons why it should fail than

why it should succeed.[269] It was commenced in defiance of every

consideration of political and military expediency; and there were

those who, arguing the matter on higher grounds than those of mere

expediency, pronounced the certainty of its failure, because there

was a canker of injustice at the core. It was, indeed, an experiment

on the forbearance alike of God and of man; and therefore, though it

might dawn in success and triumph, it was sure to set in failure and

disgrace.

BOOK III.

[1838-1839.]

CHAPTER I.

The Army of the Indus—Gathering at Ferozepore—Resignation of Sir

Henry Fane—Route of the Army—Passage through Bahwulpore—The Ameers

of Sindh—The Hyderabad Question—Passage of the Bolan Pass—Arrival at

Candahar.

The army destined for the occupation of Afghanistan assembled at

Ferozepore, on the north-western frontier of the British dominions, in

the latter part of the month of November. It had been agreed that the

expedition across the Indus should be inaugurated by a grand ceremonial

meeting between Lord Auckland and Runjeet Singh;[270] and that the

troops of the two nations should be paraded before the illustrious

personages then reciprocating hospitalities and interchanging marks of

friendship and respect.

The Governor-General reached Ferozepore on the 27th of November.

The Commander-in-Chief and the infantry of the Army of the Indus had

arrived a day or two before; and on the following day the main body

of the cavalry and artillery took up their ground on the plain.[271]

On the 29th,[272] the first meeting between Lord Auckland and Runjeet

Singh took place amidst a scene of indescribable uproar and confusion.

The camp of the Governor-General was pitched at the distance of some

four miles from the river Gharra. In the centre of a wide street of

tents were those set apart for the purposes of the Durbar. A noble

guard of honour lined the way, as amidst the roar of artillery and

the clang of military music, Runjeet Singh, escorted by the English

secretaries and some of the principal political and military officers

in camp, rode up, in the centre of a line of elephants to the Durbar

tent. The Governor-General and the Commander-in-Chief came forth

to meet them. Then came the crush of the two lines of elephants,

urged forward by the goads of their drivers, and meeting with a

terrific shock—the clangour of a tumultuous crowd of Sikh horsemen

and foot-men—a rush of English officers eager to see the show; and

presently, amidst such tumult and such noise as had seldom before

been seen or heard, the elephants of the Governor-General and the

Maharajah were brought side by side, and Lord Auckland, in his uniform

of diplomatic blue, was seen to take a bundle of crimson cloth out of

the Sikh howdah, and it was known that the lion of the Punjab was then

seated on the elephant of the English ruler. In a minute the little,

tottering, one-eyed man, who had founded a vast empire on the banks of

the fabulous rivers of the Macedonian conquests, was leaning over the

side of the howdah, shaking hands with the principal officers of the

British camp, as their elephants were wheeled up beside him. Then the

huge phalanx of elephants was set in motion again. There was a rush

towards the Durbar tent; the English and the Sikh _cortège_ were mixed

up together in one great mass of animal life. Such was the crush—such

was the struggle—that many of the attendant Sikhs believed that there

was a design to destroy their old decrepit chief, and “began to blow

their matches and grasp their weapons with an air of mingled distrust

and ferocity.”[273] But in time a passage was made, and the imbecile

little old man was to be seen tottering into the Durbar tent, supported

on one side by the Governor-General, and on the other by Sir Henry

Fane, whose fine manly proportions and length of limb, as he forced

his way through the crowd, presented a strange contrast to the puny

dimensions of the Sikh chieftain who leant upon his arm.

In the gorgeous tent of the Governor-General, the ladies of Lord

Auckland’s family, and of the principal military and political

officers, were seated, ready to receive his Highness. The customary

formalities were gone through, and civilities interchanged; and then

the Maharajah was conducted into an inner chamber, where the presents

intended for his reception were laid out in costly and curious array.

Here, a picture of Queen Victoria, from the easel of Miss Eden, whose

felicitous pencil has rendered the European eye familiar with the

persons of many of the principal Sikh chieftains who graced the

Ferozepore gathering, was presented to Runjeet Singh. Sir Willoughby

Cotton bore it, with becoming reverence, into the tent, and as he

presented it to the Maharajah, who bowed before it, the guns of the

camel battery roared forth a royal salute. Then Runjeet was escorted

to another tent, where specimens of British ordnance, caparisoned

elephants, and horses of noble figure, stood ready for his Highness’s

acceptance. All these were inspected with due expressions of admiration

and a becoming interchange of courtesies; and then, amidst an uproar of

hurras, a crash of military music, and another scene of indescribable

confusion, Runjeet Singh ascended his elephant and turned his back upon

the British camp.[274]

On the following day, Lord Auckland returned the visit of Runjeet

Singh. It was said by one present on this occasion, that the Sikhs

“shone down the English.”[275] The camp of the Maharajah was on

the other side of the river; and there, amidst a scene of Oriental

splendour, difficult to describe or imagine, the great Sikh chieftain

received the representative of the British nation. The splendid

costumes of the Sikh Sirdars—the gorgeous trappings of their horses—the

glittering steel casques and corslets of chain armour—the scarlet and

yellow dresses—the tents of crimson and gold—made up a show of Eastern

magnificence equally grand and picturesque. As the Maharajah saluted

the Governor-General, the familiar notes of the national anthem arose

from the instruments of a Sikh band, and the guns of the Khalsa poured

forth their noisy welcome. In the splendid Durbar tent of the ruler of

the Punjab, the British Statesman and British General, after the due

formalities had been observed and some conversation had been carried

on through the medium of interpreters, were regaled with an unseemly

display of dancing girls, and the antics of some male buffoons. The

evening entertainments were still less decorous. It was a melancholy

thing to see the open exhibition, even on this great public occasion,

of all those low vices which were destroying the life, and damning the

reputation, of one in whom were some of the elements of heroism—who,

indeed, but for these degrading sensualities, would have been really

one of the greatest, as he was one of the most remarkable, men of

modern times.

Then came a grand display of the military resources of the two nations.

On one day the British force was manœuvred by Sir Henry Fane; and on

another the Sikh troops were exercised by the Sirdars. The consummate

skill with which the British chief attacked an imaginary enemy was

equalled by the gallantry with which he defeated it. He fought, indeed,

a great battle on the plain, and only wanted another army in his front

to render his victory a complete one. The Sikh Sirdars were contented

with less elaborate movements; but what their troops were ordered to

do they did readily and well, and military critics in the British camp

admitted that their allies made no contemptible show of the tactics

which they had learnt from their French instructors.[276]

Runjeet Singh returned to Lahore, and the Governor-General followed

him, on a complimentary visit, to the Sikh capital; whilst the British

troops prepared to cross the frontier in furtherance of the objects

mapped out in the great Simlah manifesto. But there was no longer a

Persian army to be encountered at Herat—no longer a Russian force in

the background. The expedition had lost half its popularity with the

army; and the force that was to take the field had been shorn of a

portion of its original dimensions. On the 27th of November it had

been publicly announced by the Commander-in-Chief, “that circumstances

in the countries west of the Indus had so greatly changed since the

assembly of the army for service, that the Governor-General had deemed

that it was not requisite to send forward the whole force; but that a

part only would be equal to effecting the future objects in view.” It

had become the duty therefore of the Commander-in-Chief to determine

what regiments should cross the Indus, and what should remain in

Hindostan. Sir Henry Fane had selected for service the corps whose

efficiency, on his recent tour of inspection, had been most clearly

demonstrated; and now that it devolved upon him to dash the hopes of

some of those regiments, unwilling to make an invidious choice, he

had decided the difficult question by lot. Instead of two divisions,

the Bengal army was now to consist of one, under the command of Sir

Willoughby Cotton. The brigades of infantry commanded by Colonels

Denniss and Paul were to be left behind;[277] the Irregular Cavalry,

under that fine old veteran, Colonel Skinner, of the Local Horse, were

to share the same fate; and the artillery force, greatly reduced in

strength, now lost its Brigadier (Colonel Graham), and was ordered to

go forward under Major Pew, who had organised the camel battery, and

had joined the brigade in command of that experimental section of the

ordnance corps. Nor were these the only changes which the intelligence

of the defeat of Mahomed Shah had wrought upon the Bengal force. Sir

Henry Fane, as Commander-in-Chief of the Indian army, had determined

to take command in person of the forces assembled for the expedition

across the frontier. The assemblage of regiments ordered upon this

service was to be called “The Army of the Indus.” Both the extent

of the force, and the objects of the expedition, seemed to demand

the supervision of the chief military authority in the country. But

now that the force had been greatly reduced, and the objects of the

campaign had dwindled down into a measure of interference with the

internal government of an independent country, Sir Henry Fane had no

ambition to command such a force, or to identify himself with such

an expedition. There was no want of physical energy or mental vigour

in the man, but his health was failing him at this time; and it was

expedient that he should altogether escape from the fiery climate of

the Eastern world. He determined, therefore, to resign the command of

the expedition into other hands, and to set his face towards his native

land.

Sir John Keane, the Commander-in-Chief of the Bombay army, was coming

round from the western presidency, in command of the Bombay division,

which was to be conveyed by water from that port to Kurrachee. On the

junction of the two divisions, the chief command would fall into his

hands. In Sir Henry Fane the Bengal army had unbounded confidence. They

knew him to be a strict, but a good officer. They may have thought that

he made of too much account external forms and appearances, better

suited to the mild, cloudy atmosphere of Great Britain, than to the

fiery skies of Hindostan. But they admired the energy of his character;

the decision of his judgment; the promptitude of all his actions. The

initial measures which had been entrusted to him had been carried out

with remarkable ability. There was a coolness in all that he did; a

clearness in all that he said; which inspired with unlimited confidence

the officers with whom he was associated. They knew that he had the

welfare of the army at heart;—that their safety and honour could not be

confided to one less likely to abuse the trust. It was with no common

regret, therefore, that they saw him yield into other hands the command

of the Army of the Indus. Of Sir John Keane they knew little, and what

little they did know did not fill them with any very eager desire to

place themselves under his command.

Such was the position of affairs at the commencement of December. The

Bengal army, then encamped at Ferozepore, consisted of about 9500 men

of all arms. The levy that had been raised for the immediate service

of Shah Soojah was then passing through Ferozepore. It comprised two

regiments of cavalry; four regiments of infantry; and a troop of horse

artillery—in all about 6000 men. It had marched from Loodhianah on

the 15th of November, under the command of Major-General Simpson; and

was now about, on the 2nd of December, to commence its progress across

the frontier. On the 10th of the same month the Bengal division was to

break ground from Ferozepore.

The line of march to be followed by the invading army ran, in a

south-westerly direction, through the territories of Bahwulpore, and

thence crossed, near Subzulkote, the frontier of Sindh, striking

down to the banks of the Indus, and crossing the river at Bukkur. It

then took a north-westerly course, passing through Shikarpoor, Bhag,

and Dadur to the mouth of the Bolan Pass; thence through the pass to

Quettah, and from Quettah through the Kojuck, to Candahar. A glance at

any map of the countries on the two sides of the Indus will satisfy the

reader at once that this was a strangely devious route from Ferozepore

to Candahar. The army was about to traverse two sides of a triangle,

instead of shaping its course along the third.

But it was hardly a subject for after-consideration, when the

tripartite treaty had been signed, what route should be taken by the

army destined for the restoration of Shah Soojah to his old dominions.

It had from the first been intended that the Shah should proceed

through the Sindh country, whilst Runjeet’s troops were advancing

through the Khybur Pass. It was not, indeed, a geographical but a

political question. It was necessary that the army should proceed

through Sindh, for Runjeet Singh did not will that it should traverse

the Punjab; and the Ameers were to be coerced.

It had been determined, in the first instance, that twenty lakhs of

rupees should be paid by the Ameers of Sindh, as ransom-money, for

Shikarpoor. Runjeet, as has been seen, asked for more than a moiety

of the money, which it was proposed to divide equally between him

and Shah Soojah; and, as it was not deemed expedient by the British

Government to gratify Runjeet’s cupidity at the expense of the King,

it was determined that the amount demanded from the Ameers should be

increased, and that Runjeet should receive fifteen instead of ten

lakhs, without injury to the claims of his ally. But there seemed to

be some doubt whether the Ameers would consent to pay the money thus

appropriated to others’ uses. The Shikarpoor question, indeed, required

some definite settlement by Shah Soojah himself; and as Shah Soojah was

to proceed through Sindh, for the purpose of bringing the Ameers to a

proper understanding of their duties, it was necessary that the British

army that escorted him should march by the same route.

That the Ameers should have demurred to the payment of the money

claimed by an exile of thirty years’ standing would, under any

circumstances, have been a result of the demand, exciting no surprise

in the mind of any reasonable being on one side of the Indus or on the

other. But that, having already received a formal release from the

Shah, they should have objected to the revival of an abandoned claim,

is something so natural and so intelligible that it would have been a

miracle if they had not resisted the demand. Colonel Pottinger saw this

at once: he saw the injustice of the whole proceeding; and he wrote to

the Supreme Government: “The question of a money-payment by the Ameers

of Sindh to Shah Soojah-ool-Moolk is, in my humble opinion, rendered

very puzzling by two releases written in Korans, and sealed and signed

by his Majesty, which they have produced. Their argument now is, that

they are sure the Governor-General does not intend to make them pay

again for what they have already bought and obtained, in the most

binding way, a receipt in full.”[278]

Injustice ever begets injustice. It was determined by the Simlah

Council that Shah Soojah and the Army of the Indus should be sent

through the country of the Ameers. To accomplish this, it was necessary

that, in the first instance, an existing treaty should be set aside.

When the Ameers consented to open the navigation of the Indus, it

was expressly stipulated that no military stores should be conveyed

along the river. But as soon as ever Lord Auckland had resolved to

erect a friendly power in Afghanistan, and to march a British army

across the Indus, it became necessary to tear this prohibitory treaty

to shreds, and to trample down the scruples of the Ameers. “Whilst

the present exigency lasts,” it was intimated to Colonel Pottinger,

“you may apprise the Ameers that the article of the treaty with them,

prohibiting the using of the Indus for the conveyance of military

stores, must necessarily be suspended during the course of operations

undertaken for the permanent establishment of security to all those who

are a party to the treaty.” And that there might be no miscomprehension

of the general course of policy, which the Governor-General desired to

pursue towards the Ameers, a letter was addressed to Colonel Pottinger,

stating that “he (the Governor-General) deems it hardly necessary to

remind you that in the important crisis at which we are arrived, we

cannot permit our enemies to occupy the seat of power: the interests

at stake are too great to admit of hesitation in our proceedings; and

not only they who have shown a disposition to favour our adversaries,

but they who display an unwillingness to aid us in the just and

necessary[279] undertaking in which we are engaged, must be displaced,

and give way to others on whose friendship and co-operation we may be

able implicitly to rely.” This was the dragooning system now to be

carried out in Sindh. Sensible of the injustice of such proceedings,

and the discreditable breach of faith that they involved, Colonel

Pottinger did his best to soften down these intimations; but still

the naked fact remained, that if the Ameers of Sindh displayed any

unwillingness to co-operate with the parties to a treaty under which

they were to be fined a quarter of a million of money, they were at

once to be dragooned into submission and deprived of their possessions,

at the point of our bayonets and the muzzles of our guns.[280]

The system now to be adopted was one of universal intimidation and

coercion. Along the whole line of country which the armies were to

traverse, the will and pleasure of the British Government was to be the

only principle of action recognisable in all our transactions with the

weaker States, which were now to be dragooned into prompt obedience.

Their co-operation was not to be sought, but demanded. Anything short

of hearty acquiescence was to be interpreted into a national offence.

The Khan of Bahwulpore and the Ameers of Sindh were ordered not only

to suffer the passage of our troops through their dominions but also

to supply them on their way. The former had ever been regarded as

one of the staunchest friends of the British Government; but when

he was called upon to collect camels and to place supplies at the

different stages for the use of the army, the work was carried on with

obvious reluctance. It was found necessary to remind the Khan of his

“obligations” and “responsibilities.” His officers affected to believe

that the British force would not march, and, whilst laying in supplies

for the Shah’s troops, hesitated to make an effort in behalf of our

supporting columns. The “obstinacy and perversity”—the “duplicity

and equivocation”—the “neglectful, if not reckless conduct of the

Bahwulpore authorities,” was severely commented upon by our political

officers;[281] and it was apprehended that the march of the army would

be delayed by the misguided conduct of our respectable ally.

The reluctance of the Bahwulpore authorities was soon overcome; but

the demands made upon the forbearance of the Ameers of Sindh were

of a more oppressive and irritating character. The Bahwul Khan has

ever been held up to admiration as the most consistently friendly

of all the allies of the British Government; but the expedition was

distasteful to him and his people, and the real feeling broke out in

the beginning, though, after a while, it was suppressed. It is not

strange, therefore, that the Talpoor Ameers, of whom so much more was

demanded, should have co-operated somewhat unwillingly in a measure

which had openly exacted from them a large amount of treasure, and was

not unlikely in the end to deprive them of all that they possessed.

Interpreted into homely English, the language now to be addressed to

these unhappy Princes was simply, “Your money or your life.” Colonel

Pottinger was the agent employed, in the first instance, to dictate

terms to the Court of Hyderabad; but he was too clear-headed and

too high-minded a man not to perceive the injustice of the course

prescribed by his government, and to feel painfully unwilling to

pursue it. The instructions he had received, divested of the specious

outside dress of diplomatic phraseology, and rendered in plain English

by Colonel Pottinger himself, were truly of a startling character.

The British agent was directed to tell the Ameers that “the day they

connected themselves with any other power than England would be the

last of their independence, if not of their rule.” “Neither,” it was

added, “the ready power to crush and annihilate them, nor the will to

call it into action, were wanting, if it appeared requisite, however

remotely, for the safety or integrity of the Anglo-Indian Empire or

frontier.” The Ameers were known to be weak; and they were believed to

be wealthy. Their money was to be taken; their country to be occupied;

their treaties to be set aside at the point of the bayonet—but amidst a

shower of hypocritical expressions of friendship and good-will.

Whilst Colonel Pottinger, not without some scruples, was enclosing the

Ameers of Lower Sindh in the toils of his diplomacy, Captain Burnes,

who by this time had reaped the reward of his services in knighthood

and a lieutenant-colonelcy, was proceeding to operate upon the Princes

of Beloochistan. Originally sent upon a mission to Mehrab Khan of

Khelat, he had turned aside, however, to negotiate with the Ameers

of Khyrpore, in Upper Sindh, and had found them more tractable than

the Hyderabad Princes in Colonel Pottinger’s hands. It was deemed

expedient that the British troops should cross the Indus at Bukkur, and

Burnes was instructed to obtain the temporary cession of the island.

The fortress stands on a rock, dividing the river into two channels.

Apprehending that the incursion of British troops into their country

would be followed by acts of territorial spoliation, the Ameers of

Khyrpore, whilst expressing in general terms their willingness to

co-operate with our government, expressly stipulated that the forts on

either bank of the river were to be untouched. But as Bukkur stood on

neither bank, but on an island, it appeared to the British diplomatist

that the wording of the memorandum actually placed the fortress in his

hands. Ashamed, however, of such an exhibition of legal acuteness, he

declared that he had no intention to take advantage of such a reading

of the document; he cited it merely as an instance of the manner in

which very cunning people sometimes overreach themselves. There was

no need, indeed, to look for flaws in a state paper, when the Army of

the Indus was assembling to help itself to what it liked. The Ameers

were told that, whatever might be their dislike to the march of our

troops through Sindh, “the Sindhian who hoped to stop the approach of

the British army might as well seek to dam up the Indus at Bukkur.” The

fiat had gone forth, an army was to march, and it was now on the road.

There was every reason why the restoration of Shah Soojah, who was

famous for the extravagance of his pretensions in the direction of

Sindh, should have been viewed with apprehension and alarm by the

Talpoor Ameers. But the matter now began to wear a much more formidable

aspect. The British Government had not only announced its intention to

assist the long-exiled monarch in his attempt to regain his crown, but

had encouraged him to assert long dormant claims, and had announced its

intention to march an army into the country of the Ameers, to plant a

subsidiary force there, to compel the Princes of Sindh to pay for it,

to knock down and set up the Princes themselves at discretion, to take

possession of any part of the country that might be wanted for our

own purposes—in fact, to treat Sindh and Beloochistan in all respects

as though they were petty principalities of our own. That the Ameers

thus struggling in our grasp, conscious of their inability openly to

resist oppression, should have writhed and twisted, and endeavoured to

extricate themselves by the guile which might succeed, rather than by

the strength which could not, was only to follow the universal law of

nature in all such contests between the weak and the strong. Macnaghten

complained, some time afterwards, that no civilised beings had ever

been treated so badly as were the British by the Princes of Sindh. If

it were so, it was only because no civilised beings had ever before

committed themselves to acts of such gross provocation. Throughout the

entire period of British connection with Afghanistan, a strange moral

blindness clouded the visions of our statesmen: they saw only the

natural, the inevitable results of their own measures, and forgot that

those measures were the dragon’s teeth from which sprung up the armed

men. The Ameers of Sindh viewed all our proceedings at this time with

mingled terror and indignation. Our conduct was calculated to alarm and

incense them to the extremest point of fear and irritation; and yet we

talked of their childish distrust and their unprovoked hostility.

The Ameers of Sindh were told that, whether they were friendly or

unfriendly to the movement, the British army would cross the Indus when

and where our government directed, and do whatsoever our government

pleased—that resistance on their part would be not only useless, but

insane, as it would bring down inevitable destruction on the head of

all who stood up to oppose us. From that time these unhappy Princes

felt that they ruled only by sufferance of the British. They knew their

helplessness, and if at any time they thought of open resistance, the

idea was speedily abandoned. Two British armies were bearing down

upon their dominions—the one from Upper India; the other from the

Sea. Burnes and the Commissariat officers were in advance, laying in

supplies for the consumption of the invading force, and threatening

with heavy penalties all who refused to co-operate with them. It would

be difficult to conceive anything more distressing and more irritating;

and yet we expected the Ameers to open their arms and to lay down their

treasures at our feet.

The Bengal army moved from Ferozepore on the 10th of December.[282]

Availing themselves of the water-carriage, they moved down parallel

to the river. The sick, the hospital stores, and a portion of our

Commissariat supplies were forwarded on boats, which were subsequently

to be used for the bridging of the Indus. The force consisted of about

9500 men and 38,000 camp-followers. Some 30,000 camels accompanied the

army.[283] There was an immense assemblage of baggage. Sir Henry Fane

had exhorted the officers of the Army of the Indus not to encumber

themselves with large establishments and unnecessary equipages; but

there is a natural disposition on the part of Englishmen, in all

quarters of the globe, to carry their comforts with them. It requires a

vast deal of exhortation to induce officers to move lightly equipped.

The more difficult the country into which they are sent—the more

barbarous the inhabitants—the more trying the climate—the greater is

their anxiety to surround themselves with the comforts which remote

countries and uncivilised people cannot supply, and which ungenial

climates render more indispensable. In the turmoil of actual war,

all these light matters may be forgotten; but a long, a wearisome,

and unexciting march through a difficult but uninteresting country,

tries the patience even of the best of soldiers, and fills him with

unappeasable yearnings after the comforts which make endurable the

tedium of barrack or cantonment life. It is natural that with the

prospect of such a march before him, he should not be entirely

forgetful of the pleasures of the mess-table, or regardless of the less

social delights of the pleasant volume and the solacing pipe. Clean

linen, too, is a luxury which a civilised man, without any imputation

upon his soldierly qualities, may, in moderation, desire to enjoy. The

rudeness and barrenness of the country compel him to supply himself at

the commencement of his journey with everything that he will require

in the course of it; and the exigencies of the climate necessarily

increase the extent of these requirements. The expedition across the

Indus had been prospectively described as a “grand military promenade;”

and if such were the opinion of some of the highest authorities, it

is not strange that officers of inferior rank should have endorsed

it, and hastened to act upon the suggestion it conveyed. And so

marched the Army of the Indus, accompanied by thousands upon thousands

of baggage-laden camels and other beasts of burden, spreading

themselves for miles and miles over the country, and making up with the

multitudinous followers of the camp one of those immense moving cities,

which are only to be seen when an Indian army takes the field, and

streams into an enemy’s country.

It was clear, bright, invigorating weather—the glorious cold season of

Northern India—when the army of the Indus entered the territories of

Bahwul Khan. Nature seemed to smile on the expedition, and circumstance

to favour its progress. There was a fine open country before them;

they moved along a good road;[284] supplies were abundant everywhere.

The coyness of the Bahwulpore authorities, which had threatened to

delay the initial march of the army, had yielded in good time, and at

every stage Mackeson and Gordon had laid up in depôt stores of grain,

and fodder, and firewood, for the consumption of man and beast.[285]

Officers and soldiers were in the highest spirits. “These,” it was said

by one who accompanied the army on the staff of its commander, and

has chronicled all its operations,[286] “were the halcyon days of the

movements of this force.” To the greater number who now crossed the

frontier this was their virgin campaign. The excitement was as novel

as it was inspiriting. They might be about to meet mighty armies and

to subdue great principalities; or they might only be entering upon a

“grand military promenade.” Still in that bright December weather the

very march through a strange country, with all that great and motley

assemblage, was something joyous and animating. The army was in fine

health, full of heart, and overflowing with spirits. It seemed as if an

expedition so auspiciously commenced must be one great triumph to the

end.

There was but one thing to detract from the general prosperity of the

opening campaign. Desertion was going on apace—not from the ranks

of the fighting men, but from the mass of officers’ servants, camel

drivers, and camp-followers which streamed out from the rear of the

army. The cattle, too, were falling sick and dying by the way-side. The

provisions with which they were supplied were not good, and dysentery

broke out among them. Many were carried off by their owners, who shrunk

from the long and trying journey before them; and it soon became

manifest that the most formidable enemy with which the advancing army

would have to contend, would be a scarcity of carriage and supplies.

Even in those early days the voice of complaint was not wholly

silent;[287] but when the army began to make its toilsome way through

Sindh and Beloochistan, there were few in its ranks who did not look

back with regret to the march through Bahwulpore, when all their wants

had been supplied in a manner which they were little likely to see

again. It was on the 29th of December that the head-quarters of the

army reached the capital of Bahwul Khan’s country. Sir Henry Fane, who

had been proceeding down the river by water, landed from his boats, and

held a Durbar on the following day; and on the 31st returned the visit

of state which the Khan had paid him.[288] On the first day of the new

year the army broke ground again, and set out for the frontier of Sindh.

On the 14th of January, the head-quarters of the Army of the Indus

entered the Sindh territory near Subzulkote. On the preceding day,

Sir Alexander Burnes had joined the British camp; and though he had

obtained by his negotiations the cession of Bukkur to the British

Government,[289] for such time as it might seem expedient to us to

retain it, and had thus secured the peaceful passage of the Indus,

the report which he made of the general feeling of the Sindhians was

not very encouraging. It was plain that our armed passage through the

country of the Ameers was extremely distasteful to them; and that if

they did not break out into acts of open hostility, their conduct

towards us was likely to be marked by subterfuges, evasions, and deceit

of every possible kind.

And presently it began to be suspected that the temper of at least

some of the Talpoor Princes was such, that a hostile demonstration

against them was little likely to be avoided. The Hyderabad Ameers had

assumed an attitude of defiance. They had insulted and outraged Colonel

Pottinger, and were now collecting troops for the defence of their

capital. Sir John Keane, with the Bombay army, had landed at Vikkur at

the end of November, and, after a long and mortifying delay, had made

his way on to Tattah. Having come by sea, he was necessarily without

carriage. He had relied upon the friendly feelings of the Sindh rulers;

but the Sindh rulers were not disposed to do anything for him, but

everything against him. They regarded the British General as an enemy,

and threw every obstacle in his way. Sir John Keane was compelled,

therefore, to remain in inactivity on the banks of the river until the

24th of December. A supply of carriage from Cutch, by no means adequate

to the wants of the force, but most welcome at such a time, came

opportunely to release Sir John Keane from this local bondage, and the

Bombay column then commenced its march into Sindh. Proceeding up the

right bank of the Indus to Tattah, and thence to Jerruk, he awaited at

the latter place the result of the negotiations which were going on at

Hyderabad. Captain Outram and Lieutenant Eastwick had been despatched

to the Court of the Ameers with Lord Auckland’s ultimatum; and Keane

with the Bombay column, was now, at the end of January, awaiting the

result.

Surrounded by his own contingent, Shah Soojah had proceeded in

advance of the Bengal column; and his force had crossed the Indus, in

very creditable order, before the end of the third week of January.

Shikarpoor had been fixed upon as the place of rendezvous. There the

force was now encamped, and there the Envoy and Minister joined the

suite of the Douranee monarch.

Cotton was to have crossed the Indus at Rohree, which lies opposite

to the fort of Bukkur. Some delay had taken place in the cession of

the fortress; for the Bengal column had arrived on the banks of the

river before the treaty with the Ameer of Khyrpore, by which it was to

be ceded, had arrived with the ratification of the Governor-General;

and after its arrival, some further delay was occasioned, either by

the mistrust or by the guile of the Sindh ruler. He was not ignorant

of the state of affairs at Hyderabad. He knew, or suspected, that

there was a likelihood of a large portion of the Bengal column being

detached, and he was eager to temporise. Something might be written

down in the chapter of accidents, that might enable him to retain

possession of Bukkur; or something might be gained by the detention

of Cotton’s troops. It was not, therefore, till the 29th of January

that the British flag waved from the fort of Bukkur—and even when the

detachment of troops, which was to receive possession, crossed the

river, opposition seemed so probable, that some powder-bags, wherewith

to blow in the gates of the fort, were stowed away in one of the boats.

The military authorities now determined to despatch the greater part

of the Bengal column down the left bank of the Indus to co-operate

with Sir John Keane against Hyderabad. Burnes entirely approved of

the movement.[290] It does not appear that Keane had then made any

requisition for more troops.[291] The two columns, indeed, were

entirely ignorant of each other’s operations. Thus early the want of an

intelligence-department was painfully apparent; but up to the last day

of our connection with Afghanistan nothing was done, nor has anything

been done in more recent wars, to remedy the admitted evil. Down the

left bank of the Indus went Cotton with his troops, glorying in the

prospect before them. The treasures of Hyderabad seemed to lie at their

feet. Never was there a more popular movement. The troops pushed on

in the highest spirits, eager for the affray—confident of success.

An unanticipated harvest of honour—an unexpected promise of abundant

prize-money was within their reach. A march of a few days would bring

them under the walls of Hyderabad, to humble the pride of the Ameers,

and to gather up their accumulated wealth.

But there was one man then on the borders of the Indus to whom

this movement down the left bank of the river was a source of

unmixed dissatisfaction. Mr. Macnaghten, who, under the title of

Envoy-and-Minister at the Court of Shah Soojah, had been appointed

political director of the campaign, viewed with alarm the departure of

Sir Willoughby Cotton from Rohree, just as it was hoped that the Bengal

column was about to cross to the right bank of the river. The Shah,

with his contingent, was at Shikarpoor. Macnaghten had joined the royal

camp. The King and the Envoy were alike eager to push on to Candahar;

but, deserted by the Bengal troops, they were compelled to remain in

a state of absolute paralysis. Seldom has any public functionary been

surrounded by more embarrassing circumstances than those which, at

this time, beset Macnaghten. At the very outset of the campaign there

was a probability of the civil and military authorities being brought

into perilous collision. The Envoy looked aghast at the movement

upon Hyderabad, for he believed it involved an entire sacrifice of

the legitimate objects of the campaign. It appeared to him, in this

conjuncture, to be plainly his duty, as the representative of the

British-Indian Government, to take upon himself the responsibility of

preventing the march for the restoration of Shah Soojah from being

converted into a campaign in Sindh. Yet to no man could the assertion

of such authority be more painful than to one of Macnaghten’s temper

and habits. It was certain that the military chiefs would resent his

interference, and that the whole army would be against him. But he

turned his face steadfastly towards Candahar; and determined to arrest

the progress of the Bengal column on its march to the Sindh capital.

In what light this diversion was viewed by him, and for what reasons

he deprecated it, Macnaghten’s letters, written at this time, indicate

with sufficient distinctness; and it is just, therefore, that in a

matter which has entailed some odium upon him, he should be suffered to

speak for himself:

“The Governor-General,” he wrote to Burnes, “never seems to have

contemplated the diversion of the army of the Indus from its original

purpose, except on emergency. No such emergency appears to have

arisen. We are utterly ignorant of the state of affairs below. It is

hardly possible to conceive that matters should not have been settled,

unless under the very improbable supposition that Sir J. Keane should

be waiting for reinforcements, or that a suspension of hostilities may

have been agreed upon, pending the receipt of further instructions

from the Governor-General. In the first place it may be presumed that

the Bombay reserve will reach Sir John Keane long ere Sir Willoughby

Cotton can do so. In the latter case, it is probable that the

suggestions with which I have this day furnished Colonel Pottinger,

will bring matters to an amicable conclusion. As far as I have learnt

the motives of Sir W. C.’s movement down the left bank of the Indus,

it was with a view of creating a diversion, and never with any

intention of actually proceeding all the way to Hyderabad. The effect

of the movement whatever it may have been, must have been already

produced. At all events, by crossing to this side of the river, the

effect will rather be heightened than lessened; while, if the force

should not be required further, it might be all ready to proceed

at the proper season to its original destination in Afghanistan. I

should hope in less than ten days from this date to receive a reply

from Colonel Pottinger; and, in the mean time, the boats might be got

ready to proceed with the troops downwards, should their services

be required. Thus no time would be lost. But, as in that case there

could be little hope of the return of the troops to proceed this

season into Afghanistan, I would strongly urge that a force, to the

extent specified in the second paragraph of this letter (one European

regiment, one Native cavalry, a troop of horse artillery, with a

suitable battering train), with a sufficiency of carriage-cattle

for itself and Shah Soojah’s army, should be directed to proceed to

Shikarpoor. With such a force I am clearly of opinion that the views

of the Governor-General, in regard to Afghanistan, could be carried

into effect during the present season. The consequences of losing a

whole season are not to be foreseen.”[292]

In another letter he wrote to the Governor-General—and the passage has

an additional interest, as affording, for the first time, a glimpse of

the unreasonable character of Shah Soojah, and the extent to which his

Majesty’s peculiarities heightened the difficulties of Macnaghten’s

position:

We should not, I think, on any account, lose the season for advancing

upon Candahar. With our European regiment, some more artillery, a

couple of Native regiments, and a small battering train, we might not

only occupy Candahar, but relieve Herat; and by money, if we have no

disposable troops, make Caubul too hot for Dost Mahomed.

The Shah is very solicitous about future operations, and, I am sorry

to say, talks foolishly every time I see him on the subject of his

confined territories that are to be—and frequently says it would be

much better for him to have remained at Loodhianah. The next time he

touches on the subject, I intend to remind him of the verse of Sadi,

“If a king conquers seven regions he would still be hankering after

another territory.” I have little doubt of being able to bring him

into a more reasonable temper of mind. He is much delighted with the

four six-pounders presented to him by your Lordship.... I hardly think

it probable that 50,000 rupees per mensem will suffice for the Shah’s

expenses, but on this point I will write to your Lordship more fully

on another occasion.[293]

And again he wrote, soon afterwards, to Mr. Colvin:

I grieve to say that I have no consolation to afford you. Our

accounts from every quarter as to what is really passing are most

unsatisfactory, and Sir Willoughby Cotton is clearly going on a

wild-goose chase. He cannot possibly, I think, be at Hyderabad under

twenty-five days from this date, and he seems to be travelling by a

route which has no road. He will soon, I fear, find himself in the

jungle. If this goes on as it is now doing, what is to become of our

Afghan expedition. Burnes’s letters are most unsatisfactory.[294]

He had hardly despatched the letter from which this last passage is

taken, when a communication from the Governor-General was put into

his hands, and it became more than ever obvious from its contents,

that Lord Auckland’s first wish was, that the Bengal column should

accompany Shah Soojah and his contingent as expeditiously as possible

to Candahar. Fortified by these advices, Macnaghten, on the following

day, wrote, in emphatic language to Sir Willoughby Cotton, in virtue

of the power vested in him by the Governor-General, requiring that

military chief to furnish him with a force sufficient to enable him to

give effect to his Lordship’s plans in Afghanistan:

“I have already urged,” he added, “in the strongest terms, your

crossing over to this side of the river with your whole force. Of

Sir John Keane’s army there can be no apprehension. His Excellency

will always be able to keep up his communication with the sea,

whilst your presence on this side would enable us to establish a

strong post at the extremity of the Sindh territories, and ensure

the safety of the supplies for the Army of the Indus in its advance

into Afghanistan. The Ameers cannot for any length of time keep up

an army—they must be reduced to act on the defensive, and then the

result could hardly be doubtful. Dangerous as the experiment might

be, it would, in my opinion, be infinitely better that we should let

loose fifteen or twenty thousand of Runjeet Singh’s troops (who would

march down upon Hyderabad in a very short space of time), than that

the grand enterprise of restoring Shah Soojah to the throne of Caubul

and Candahar should be postponed for an entire season. By such a

postponement it might be frustrated altogether.”

Thus were the military and political authorities brought into a

state of undisguised antagonism. Circumstances, however, had already

occurred to unravel the web of difficulty that had been cast around

them. The progress of the Bengal column towards Hyderabad was arrested

by the receipt of intelligence to the effect that the Ameers, awed

by impending danger, had submitted to the demands of the British

Government. Outram and Eastwick had been from the 20th of January to

the 4th of February at Hyderabad negotiating with them, and after much

reasonable doubt of the issue had received their submission.[295] They

had consented to pay the money which had been required from them, and

it was believed that it would soon be paid.[296] They had consented

to the terms of a stringent treaty, which had been fastened upon them

by the British authorities, and agreed to pay annually three lakhs

of rupees for the support of a British subsidiary force in their

dominions. Cotton was, therefore, instructed to halt his division;

and on the very 7th of February on which Macnaghten had written and

despatched the letter which I have above quoted, the hopes of the

Bengal column were dashed by the announcement that Hyderabad and its

treasures were no longer lying at their feet. The Ameers paid an

instalment of the tribute-money, and Cotton, to the great joy of the

Envoy, but to the extreme disappointment of his troops, retraced his

steps to Rohree, and prepared to effect the passage of the river,

whilst Keane, with the Bombay column, moved up along the right bank of

the Indus, and saw, through the dusty atmosphere of Lower Sindh, the

palace and the city where was stored the gathered wealth which was to

have enriched his army.

Halting for some days opposite Hyderabad,[297] the Bombay troops

received intelligence to the effect that the Reserve which had been

sent to their assistance from the Presidency had arrived at Kurachee,

under Brigadier Valiant. The 40th Queen’s Regiment formed a portion

of this brigade. It had been brought from Bombay in a seventy-four

gun-ship—the _Wellesley_—and Admiral Sir Frederick Maitland was on

board. In the position which affairs had assumed in Lower Sindh, it

seemed desirable that the English should possess themselves of the fort

of Kurachee; so the Admiral summoned it to surrender. The answer of

the Commandant was a gallant one. “I am a Beloochee,” he said, “and I

will die first.” With characteristic mendacity the Sindhian boatmen in

the harbour declared that the place was prepared to withstand a siege,

and that one of the Ameers had come down with an army of 3000 men. The

English sailor had now an answer to give as gallant as that of the

Beloochee chief. “The more the better,” he said; “we shall have the

first trial of them.” Everything was soon ready for the attack. But

British humanity again interposed, and Maitland a second time summoned

the garrison to surrender. The reply was a word of defiance, and a shot

from the fort. Then was heard by the garrison that which had never been

heard there before, and of which they had no conception—a broadside

from an English man-of-war. The _Wellesley’s_ guns did their work in

less than an hour, and the British colours soon floated over the place.

The garrison had consisted of only some twenty men.[298]

On the 20th of February, Sir Willoughby Cotton, with the head-quarters

of his force, arrived at Shikarpoor. On the morning of that day the

General and the Envoy were for some time in conference with each other.

The discussion was a long and a stormy one. The General seems to have

anticipated the interference of Macnaghten, and to have resented it

before it took any really offensive shape. The two officers looked on

each other with suspicion. The General leapt hastily to the conclusion

that the civilian was determined to overrule his military authority;

and the Envoy, on the other side, thought that the soldier regarded

him, the King and the King’s army, with something very like contempt.

Macnaghten wanted carriage for the Shah’s force, and asked for 1000

camels. Sir Willoughby resented this as an act of interference; accused

the Envoy of wishing to assume the command of the army, and declared

that he knew no superior authority but that of Sir John Keane. At

this, and at subsequent meetings, the Envoy urged that he had no

intention of interfering with the military movements of the General,

but that if he thought it for the good of the service that Shah Soojah

should be left behind, the matter must be referred for the decision

of the Governor-General. In the evening they met at dinner in the

Envoy’s tent. The meal was not over when important despatches from the

Governor-General were placed in Macnaghten’s hands. In the Envoy’s

private tent they were read and discussed. Burnes and Todd were present

at the conference. Late at night the General and the Envoy parted “very

good friends,”[299]

It was decreed that the Bengal column should at once move in advance.

On the following day it was manœuvred in presence of the King.

The parching heats of Sindh, and the evil effects of a failing

Commissariat, had not then begun to impair our army; and, in full

health and fine condition, the troops moved before the well-pleased

Shah. On the 23rd, Sir Willoughby Cotton began to put his force again

in motion. But the Shah’s contingent remained halted at Shikarpoor.

There was not carriage sufficient for its advance.

The difficulties of the march now began to obtrude themselves. Between

Sukkur and Shikarpoor the camels had dropped down dead by scores. But

there was a worse tract of country in advance. The officers looked at

their maps, and traced with dismay the vast expanse of sandy desert,

where no green pasture met the eye, and no sound of water spoke to the

ear. But the season was favorable. Escaping the arid and pestilential

blasts of April and May, and the noxious exhalations of the four

succeeding months, the column advanced into Cutch-Gundawa. The hard,

salt-mixed sand, crackled under their horses’ feet as the General

and his staff crossed the desert, on a fine bright night of early

March—so cool that only, when in a full gallop, the riders ceased to

long for the warmth of their cloaks.[300] The distance from Shikarpoor

to Dadur is 146 miles. It was accomplished by the Bengal column in

sixteen painful marches. Water and forage were so scarce that the

cattle suffered terribly on the way. The camels fell dead by scores

on the desert; and further on the Beloochee robbers carried them

off with appalling dexterity. When the column reached a cultivated

tract of country, the green crops were used as forage for the horses.

The _ryots_ were liberally paid on the spot; but the agents of the

Beloochee chiefs often plundered the unhappy cultivators of the money

that had been paid to them, even in front of the British camp.

It was on the 10th of March that the Bengal column reached Dadur, which

lies at the mouth of the Bolan Pass. Whatever doubts may before have

been entertained regarding the provisionary prospects of the Army of

the Indus, they were now painfully set at rest. Major Leech had been

long endeavouring to collect supplies for the army at this place; but,

in spite of all his zeal and all his ability, he had signally failed.

Mehrab Khan of Khelat, under whose dominion lay the provinces through

which the army was now passing, had thrown every impediment in the way

of the collection of grain for our advancing troops. The prospect,

therefore, before them was anything but an encouraging one. At Dadur

they found themselves, on the 10th of March, with a month’s supplies

on their beasts of burden. Cotton saw that there was little chance of

collecting more; so he determined to push on with all possible despatch.

On the 16th he resumed his march; and entered the Bolan Pass. Burnes

had gone on in advance with a party under Major Cureton, to secure a

safe passage for the column; and had been completely successful. The

Beloochee authorities rendered him all the aid in their power;[301] and

when Cotton appeared with his troops on a clear, still morning, at the

mouth of the defile, there was little likelihood of any obstacle being

opposed to his free progress. But the baggage-cattle were falling dead

by the way-side; the artillery horses were showing painful symptoms of

distress. The stream of the Bolan river was tainted by the bodies of

the camels that had sunk beneath their loads. The Beloochee freebooters

were hovering about, cutting off our couriers, murdering stragglers,

carrying off our baggage and our cattle. Among the rocks of this

stupendous defile our men pitched their tents; and toiled on again

day after day, over a wretched road covered with loose flint stones,

surmounting, at first, by a scarcely perceptible ascent, and afterwards

by a difficult acclivity, the great Brahoo chain of hills. The Bolan

Pass is nearly sixty miles in length. The passage was accomplished

in six days. They were days of drear discomfort, but not of danger.

A resolute enemy might have wrought mighty havoc among Cotton’s

regiments; but the enemies with which now they had to contend were the

sharp flint stones which lamed our cattle, the scanty pasturage which

destroyed them, and the marauding tribes who carried them off. The way

was strewn with baggage—with abandoned tents, and stores; and luxuries

which, a few weeks afterwards, would have fetched their weight twice

counted in rupees, were left to be trampled down by the cattle in the

rear, or carried off by the plunderers about them.

Happy was every man in the force when the army again emerged into the

open country. The valley of Shawl lay before them, a favoured spot in a

country of little favour. The clear crisp climate braced the European

frame; and over the wide plain, bounded by noble mountain-ranges,

intersected by many sparkling streams, and dotted with orchards and

vineyards, the eye ranged with delight; whilst the well-known carol of

the lark, mounting up in the fresh morning air, broke with many home

associations charmingly on the English ear.[302] On the 26th of March

the Bengal column reached Quettah-“a most miserable mud town, with a

small castle on a mound, on which there was a small gun on a rickety

carriage.”[303] Here Sir Willoughby Cotton was to halt until further

orders. Starvation was beginning to stare his troops in the face.

Seldom has a military commander found himself in the midst of more

painful perplexities than those which now surrounded Cotton. It seemed

to be equally impossible to stand still or to move forward. His

supplies were now so reduced, that even upon famine allowances his

troops could not have reached Candahar with provisions for more than a

few days in store; and to remain halted at Quettah would necessarily

aggravate the evil. There appeared to be no possibility of obtaining

supplies. All the provisions stored in Quettah and the surrounding

villages would not have fed our army for many days. In this painful

conjuncture, Cotton acted with becoming promptitude. He despatched his

Adjutant-General to Sir John Keane for orders, whilst Burnes proceeded

to Khelat to work upon the fears or the cupidity of Mehrab Khan; and,

in the meanwhile, reduced to the scantiest dole the daily supplies

meted out to our unfortunate fighting men and our more miserable

camp-followers.[304] These privations soon began to tell fearfully

upon their health and their spirits. The sufferings of the present were

aggravated by the dread of the future; and as men looked at the shrunk

frames and sunken cheeks of each other, and in their own feebleness and

exhaustion felt what wrecks they had become, their hearts died within

them at the thought that a day was coming when even the little that was

now doled out to them might be wholly denied.

Burnes hastened to Khelat. He was courteously received. He found Mehrab

Khan an able and sagacious man. Suspicious of others, but with more

frankness and unreserve in his character than is commonly found in

suspicious men, the Khan commented freely on our policy—said, with

prophetic truth, that we might restore Shah Soojah to Afghanistan,

but that we should not carry the Afghan people with us, and that we

should, therefore, fail in the end; and then, after launching into an

indignant commentary on the ingratitude of Shah Soojah, for whom he had

suffered much and reaped nothing in return, he proceeded to set forth

the evils which had resulted to him and his people from the passage of

the British army through his dominions.[305] “The English,” he said,

“had now come, and by their march through his country, in different

directions, destroyed the crops, poor as they were; helped themselves

to the water which irrigated the lands, made doubly valuable in this

year of scarcity;”-“but he had stood,” he added, “quiescent, and hoped

from the English justice, from the Shah justice; hoped that his claims

might be regarded in a proper light, and he for ever relieved from

the mastery of the Suddozye Kings.” He then spoke freely and fluently

of our policy in Central Asia, of the position in which we had placed

ourselves at Herat by supporting such a miscreant as Yar Mahomed, and

of the failure of our negotiations at Caubul and Candahar. “I might

have allied myself,” he said, “with Persia and Russia—but I have

seen you safely through the great defile of the Bolan, and yet I am

unrewarded.”

Burnes had brought with him the draft of a treaty, which, on the

following day, he sent to the Khan. He had made it a condition of all

peaceable negotiation with the Beloochee Prince, that he should wait

upon Shah Soojah in his camp—a condition which Mehrab Khan disliked and

resisted, and from which he could extricate himself only by pleading

sickness. The treaty, by which the supremacy of Shah Soojah was

distinctly acknowledged, bound the British Government to pay Mehrab

Khan a lakh and a half of rupees annually, in return for which the Khan

engaged to “use his best endeavours to procure supplies, carriage,

and guards to protect provisions and stores going and coming from

Shikarpoor, by the route of Rozan, Dadur, the Pass of Bolan, through

Shawl to Koochlak, from one frontier to another.”

Mehrab Khan affixed his seal to the treaty. But he disliked the

bargain he had made. He was altogether suspicions of Shah Soojah and

the Suddozyes. He was by no means certain of the success of the present

enterprise. He believed that, by paying homage to the Shah, he would

raise up a host of powerful enemies, and plunge himself into a sea of

ruin. Striving to allay the apprehensions of the Khan, Burnes made some

trifling concessions, which were not without their effect; and then

proceeded to press upon him the subject which at that moment was of

most immediate importance to British interests—the matter of supplies;

and earnestly pointed out the imperative necessity of every possible

exertion being made by the Khan to provide them. But it was easier to

suggest such provision than to make it. Mehrab Khan said that he would

do his best—that he would place men at Burnes’s disposal to proceed

to Nooshky and other places, where the crops were nearly ripe (”and,”

said Burnes, parenthetically, “he has done so”)—that he would “give

grain in Gundava and Cutchee, and if we would send for our stores at

Shikarpoor to Dadur, he would actively aid in passing them through the

Bolan—that he might also aid us at Moostung in getting a small quantity

of grain; but that there was really very little grain at Khelat, or in

the country—that he had reduced his escort to wait on the Shah to 1000

men, on account of the scarcity—and that he could not then furnish the

grain, but each man must bring his own.” “This intelligence,” wrote

Burnes to Macnaghten, “is very distressing in our present position;

but my inquiries serve to convince me that there is but a small supply

of grain in this country, and none certainly to be given us, without

aggravating the present distress of the inhabitants—some of whom are

feeding on herbs and grasses gathered in the jungle. It is with some

difficulty we have supported ourselves, whilst the small quantities we

have procured have been got by stealth. This scarcity is corroborated

by a blight in last year’s harvest. Under such circumstances, the only

way of turning the Khan to account is in supplying sheep; and here he

can and is willing to assist us to a great extent. Probably 10,000

or 15,000 may be procured; and arrangements are now being made for

purchasing and sending them down to Shawl.”[306]

In the meanwhile, the Shah’s Contingent and the Bombay division of the

Army of the Indus were making their way through Sindh.[307] Greatly

straitened for carriage, it had been for some time doubtful whether the

whole of the Shah’s army would be able to proceed to Candahar. There

had been a disposition on the part of Sir Willoughby Cotton to look

with contempt upon the Suddozye levies, and to make the King and his

regiments play a part in the coming drama, by no means in accordance

with the estimate which Macnaghten had formed of their importance. And

now Sir John Keane seemed equally inclined to throw into the background

the King, the Envoy, and the Contingent. But Macnaghten had claimed

for the Shah a prominent place in the coming operations,[308] and the

military chief had yielded to his representations, and even placed at

his disposal a number of baggage-cattle which he greatly needed for his

own force. Anxious to conciliate the commander of the army, and never

unmindful of the public interests, the Envoy gratefully declined the

offer.[309] Keane was, at that time, “in a wretched plight for want

of cattle,” and the Bengal Commissariat were compelled to supply him

largely both with camels and grain.

Sir Willoughby Cotton had suggested to Macnaghten the expediency

of a movement upon Khelat; but the Envoy was then little inclined

to take the same unfavourable view of the conduct of Mehrab Khan,

which Cotton, smarting under the privations to which his force had

been subjected, was prone to encourage. “With regard to moving upon

Khelat,” he wrote on the 15th of March to the Bengal General, “I am

not prepared at present to take upon myself the responsibility of

that measure; and I am in great hopes that Sir Alexander Burnes will

be able to arrange everything satisfactorily.”[310] The further he

advanced, indeed, the more obvious it became that the Khan of Khelat

had just grounds of complaint against the English army. Everywhere

traces of the devastation—much of it unavoidable devastation—which our

advancing columns had left behind them, spoke out intelligibly to him;

and he plainly saw how extremely distasteful both our officers and our

measures had become to the Beloochees. Pondering these things, he sate

down and wrote the following letter to Lord Auckland—a significant

letter, which shows how early had burst upon Macnaghten the truth,

that only by a liberal expenditure of money was there any hope of

reconciling to our operations the chiefs and people beyond the Indus:

Camp Bagh, _March 19_.

I found the Khelat authorities in the worst possible humour. Our

enemies have evidently been tampering with them, and they had good

cause for dissatisfaction with us; their crops have been destroyed,

and the water intended for the irrigation of their fields has been

diverted to the use of our armies. A great portion of these evils was

perhaps unavoidable, but little or no effort seems to have been made

either to mitigate the calamity or to appease the discontent which

has been created by our proceedings. Our officers and our measures

are alike unpopular in this country, and I very much fear that Sir

A. Burnes may be led, by vague rumours of the Khan’s unfriendly

disposition, to recommend offensive operations against him. In what

difficulties we might be involved by such a proceeding it would be

impossible to foretell. My most strenuous efforts have been day and

night directed towards reconciling all persons of influence to our

operations; and in this I have been successful; but considerable sums

must be expended, not only in remunerating the people for the severe

losses they have sustained, but in bribing the authorities. Your

Lordship may rely upon it, that I shall not expend one rupee of the

public money more than I deem indispensably necessary; but here we are

quite at the mercy of the Beloochees. This very day, had they been

inimically inclined, they might with the greatest ease have turned

an inundation into our camp, which would have swept away our entire

force and everything belonging to us. The change in the demeanour of

the authorities since yesterday is wonderful. They are now our devoted

servants, and the Vizier has promised to write off instantly to his

master at Khelat, advising him to give us his entire and unqualified

friendship and support. Sir John Keane is in a wretched plight for

want of cattle, and I cannot help thinking he has been neglected in

a very unwarrantable manner by the Bengal authorities.... I went out

myself this morning to see what damage had been done to the crops.

The devastation is grievous; but the interest which the people saw

me take in their complaints has done more to pacify them than I ever

expected. Another source of great dissatisfaction has been the seizure

by our troops of different individuals, and even families, on the plea

of being robbers. This I have done all in my power to remedy.[311]

More and more sensible, after every march, of the miserable country

through which he was passing, and the difficulties which now beset

the expedition, Macnaghten was anxious to push on with all possible

expedition. But Sir John Keane, who was in the rear with the Bombay

column, dreading the assemblage, on the same spot, of so large a body

of troops as would be brought together by the junction of the three

forces, urged upon him the expediency of halting, whilst his Excellency

went forward to ascertain the chances of finding forage and provisions

in the Bolan Pass. So the Shah and his Contingent halted for a few days

at Bagh,[312] whilst Sir John Keane pushed on with his escort. On the

28th of March, the King, the Minister, and the Commander-in-Chief were

all assembled together at Dadur. “Their united camps displayed all the

pomp and circumstances of a triple head-quarter.” The passage of the

Bolan was accomplished without difficulty, and on the 4th of April,

Sir Willoughby Cotton, having ridden out with his staff from Quettah,

greeted the General-in-Chief and his companions as they were resting

at the entrance to the Shawl Valley, after the fatigues of the passage

through the defile. The tidings which he had to communicate were of the

gloomiest hue. He reported that his men were on quarter-rations, and

that there was every prospect of the army, as it entered Afghanistan,

being opposed at every step. Macnaghten, however, more sanguine, was

already beginning to think and to write about the means of disposing

of the Barukzye Sirdars. On that 4th of April he wrote to the

Governor-General a letter, which indicates the tone of his own feelings

and of those of the Afghan Prince:

_April, 4, 1839._

We are now encamped within ten miles of Shawl. Sir Willoughby came in

here this morning, and talks in a most gloomy strain of his prospects.

He says he has but twelve days’ supplies, and his men are already

on quarter-rations. We cannot reckon on being at Candahar under a

fortnight, and it will go hard with us if we cannot get supplied in

the meantime from other quarters. Sir Willoughby is a sad croaker;

not content with telling me we must all inevitably be starved, he

assures me that Shah Soojah is very unpopular in Afghanistan, and

that we shall be opposed at every step of our progress. I think I

know a little better than this. My accounts from Candahar lead me

to believe that the religious excitement is subsiding, and that the

Sirdars are only thinking how they can make good terms for themselves;

or, failing that, how they may best contrive to effect their escape.

It will be as well not to reduce them to desperation; for though

they cannot oppose us in the field, yet they make sad havoc with our

supplies. Large bands of camel-plunderers kept hovering over our line

of march, and it certainly looks as if they had been incited by some

one of influence. The mistakes and contretemps which are constantly

occurring in our motley camp, require the exercise of much patience

and discrimination. The Shah is in good health and spirits; but says

he never had so much trouble and bother in his lifetime as he has

met with during this campaign. The reason is obvious; the people on

former occasions helped themselves to everything they wanted, and no

complaint was permitted to approach the sacred person of his Majesty.

His opinion of the Afghans as a nation is, I regret to say, extremely

low. He declares that they are a pack of dogs, one and all, and, as

for the Barukzyes, it is utterly impossible that he can ever place the

slightest confidence in any one of that accursed race. We must try

and bring him gradually round to entertain a more favorable opinion

of his subjects. I cannot yet say how the Barukzye chiefs shall be

disposed of, but I am decidedly of opinion that it would be a wise

measure to get them quietly out of Afghanistan and pension them, if we

can do so at an expense not exceeding a lakh of rupees per annum. If

they oppose us and are taken, the Shah must, I imagine, be permitted

to do what he likes with them short of putting them to death; and his

own human nature is a sufficient security that he will not proceed to

extremities.[313]

On the 6th of April, Sir John Keane fixed his head-quarters at

Quettah, and assumed the personal command of the army. Reviewing all

the circumstances of his position, he came to the determination to

push forward with all possible despatch to Candahar. There was no

prospect of obtaining supplies through the agency of Mehrab Khan.

Already was the Envoy convinced of the treachery of that Prince—already

was he beginning to talk about dismembering the Khanate of Khelat,

and annexing the provinces of Shawl, Moostung, and Cutchee to the

Douranee Empire. On that day he wrote to the Private Secretary of the

Governor-General:

Camp Quettah, _April 6, 1839._

* * * Sir John Keane has represented to me in the strongest terms the

necessity for moving on. The fact is, the troops and followers are

nearly in a state of mutiny for food, and the notion of waiting for

such a person as Mehrab Khan, who has done his best to starve us,

seems utterly preposterous. I trust the Governor-General will see fit

to annex the provinces of Shawl, Moostung, and Cutchee to the Shah’s

dominions. This would be the place for cantoning a British regiment.

It is so cold now that I can hardly hold my pen, and the climate is

said to be delightful all the year round. I am certain the annexation

could be made without the slightest difficulty.... Now for Candahar.

The game is clearly up with the Sirdars. I had a letter from the

triumvirate yesterday, brought by Syud Muhun Shah, whom they have

sent to treat, or rather to get the best terms for themselves they

can. As to opposition, it is quite clear that they look upon that as

hopeless, and they have not even the power to retreat. I am unwilling

to reduce them to desperation, and shall try and get the Shah to make

some provision for them; but he is very loth to do so. Their demands

now are extravagant beyond measure; but I do not think that a lakh of

rupees per annum, distributed among the three brothers, would be too

much for the King to give, if they agreed upon that to sink into the

retirement of private life. Notwithstanding all the croaking about

Shah Soojah’s want of popularity, feel certain that my prediction will

be verified, and that his Majesty will be cordially welcomed by all

classes of the people.[314]

On the 7th of April the army resumed its march.[315] On the 9th it was

at Hykulzye, a spot rendered famous in the later annals of the war.

From this place Macnaghten wrote again to the same correspondent:

Camp Hykulzye, _April, 9_.

* * * I have reason to believe that the Sirdars of Candahar are at

their wit’s end. They make resolutions one day and break them the

next. But all accounts concur in reporting that they are abandoned by

the priesthood, and that if there is any religious feeling extant,

it is all in favour of Shah Soojah. In a fit of desperation the last

resolve of Kohun-dil-Khan is stated to be, that he will make a night

attack on our camp with about 2000 followers who are still attached

to his person. This I fully believe to be fudge. The whole of the

force, from Sir W. Cotton downwards, are infected with exaggerated

fears relating to the character of the King and the prospects of the

campaign. They fancy that they see an enemy in every bush. The Khan

of Khelat is our implacable enemy, and Sir J. Keane is burning with

revenge. There never was such treatment inflicted upon human beings as

we have been subjected to on our progress through the Khan’s country.

I will say nothing of Burnes’s negotiations. His instructions were to

conciliate, but I think he has adhered too strictly to the letter of

them. The Commander-in-Chief is very angry. I would give something

to be in Candahar; and there, _Inshallah_, we shall be in about a

week; but, in the meantime, this union of strictly disciplined troops

with lawless soldiers is very trying to my patience. With a less

tractable king than Shah Soojah the consequences might be fatal. I

have references every minute of the day, and we are compelled to tell

his Majesty’s people that they must not touch the green crops of the

country. This they think very hard, and so I believe does the King,

but he has, nevertheless, forbidden them. Supplies are now coming in,

but they are yet very dear—2½ seers of flour for a rupee! But this

price will, no doubt, daily fall. The great thing is to give people

confidence. All the villages in the Khan of Khelat’s territory were

deserted at our approach, and not a soul came near us, except with

the view of plundering and murdering our followers. The instant we

crossed the frontier the scene was entirely changed. The inhabitants

remained in their villages, and have manifested the greatest possible

confidence in our justice and good faith. Is it possible to conceive

that the difference of feeling in the Khelat country has not been

brought about by design? * * *

Macnaghten was naturally of a sanguine temperament. Civilians seldom

estimate military difficulties aright. It is true that our political

difficulties were melting away. The Candahar Sirdars, deserted and

betrayed, seemed to have given themselves up to despair, and there was

little chance of the progress of our army being disputed by an Afghan

force. But the scarcity, which had pressed so severely on our troops,

and had nearly destroyed our horses, was not less a reality because no

enemy appeared to educe all the disastrous results which were likely

to flow from such deterioration of the _physique_ of our army. The army

of the Indus surmounted the Kojuck Pass as safely as it had traversed

the Bolan. The Shah, with his Contingent, was now in advance, leading

the way, as it became him, into his restored dominions; and many of

the chiefs and people of Western Afghanistan were flocking to his

standard.[316] There were not wanting those who said that, if there had

been any prospect of opposition at Candahar, the King and his levies

would not have been the first to appear under the walls of the city.

But authentic intelligence had reached Macnaghten, to the effect that

Kohun-dil-Khan and his brothers had fled from Candahar—that there was

no union among the Barukzye brotherhood—and that, if a stand were to

be made at all, the battle-field would be nearer the northern capital.

The way, indeed, was clear for the entry of the Suddozye monarch; so

he pushed on in advance of Sir John Keane and his army, to receive, it

was said, the homage of his people. Money had been freely scattered

about; and the Afghans had already begun to discover that the gold

of the Feringhees was as serviceable as other gold, and that there

was an unfailing supply of it. Early in the campaign, Macnaghten had

encouraged the conviction that the allegiance of the Afghans was to be

bought—that Afghan cupidity would not be proof against British gold.

So he opened the treasure-chest; scattered abroad its contents with an

ungrudging hand; and commenced a system of corruption which, though

seemingly successful at the outset, wrought, in the end, the utter

ruin of the policy he had reared.[317]