His achievements as Deputy Assistant Quartermaster-General at Delhi and

elsewhere at that time need not be referred to here; for he himself has

related them in clear, life-like, homely terms which reveal one of the

sources of his personal influence. Englishmen admire a man who is active

without being fussy, who combines greatness with simplicity, whose

kindliness is as devoid of ostentation as his religion is of

mawkishness, and with whom ambition is ever the handmaid of patriotism.

The character of a commander perhaps counts for more with British troops

than with any others, except the French; and the men who marched with

Roberts from Cabul to Candahar, and from Paardeberg to Bloemfontein,

could scarcely have carried out those feats of endurance for a general

who did not possess both their trust and their love.

The devotion of the Kurram column to its chief was soon put to the test.

After advancing up that valley, girt on both sides with lofty mountains

and scored with numerous gulleys, the force descried the Peiwar Kotal

Pass at its head--a precipitous slope furrowed only in one place where a

narrow zigzag path ran upwards through pines and giant boulders. A

reconnaissance proved that the Afghans held the upper part in force; and

for some time Roberts felt the gravest misgivings. Hiding these

feelings, especially from his native troops, he spent a few days in

reconnoitring this formidable position. These efforts resulted in the

discovery by Major Collett of another practicable gorge further to the

north leading up to a neighbouring height, the Peiwar Spingawi, whence

the head of the Kotal might possibly be turned.

To divide a column, comprising only 889 British and 2415 native troops,

and that too in face of the superior numbers of the enemy, was a risky

enterprise, but General Roberts determined to try the effect of a night

march up to the Spingawi. He hoped by an attack at dawn on the Afghan

detachment posted there, to turn the main position on the Kotal, and

bring about its evacuation. This plan had often succeeded against

Afghans. Their characteristics both in peace and war are distinctly

feline. Prone to ease and enjoyment at ordinary times, yet, when stirred

by lust of blood or booty, they are capable of great feats of swift

fierce onset; but, like all men and animals dominated by sudden

impulses, their bravery is fitful, and is apt to give way under

persistent attack, or when their rear is threatened. The cat-like,

stalking instinct has something of strategic caution, even in its

wildest moods; it likes to be sure of the line of retreat[311].

[Footnote 311: General [Sir] J.L. Vaughan, in a Lecture on "Afghanistan

and the Military Operations therein" (December 6, 1878), said of the

Afghans: "When resolutely attacked they rarely hold their ground with

any tenacity, and are always anxious about their rear."]

The British commander counted on exploiting these peculiarities to the

full by stalking the enemy on their left flank, while he left about 1000

men to attack them once more in front. Setting out at nightfall of

December 1, he led the remainder northwards through a side valley, and

then up a gully on the side of the Spingawi. The ascent through pine

woods and rocks, in the teeth of an icy wind, was most trying; and the

movement came near to failure owing to the treachery of two Pathan

soldiers in the ranks, who fired off their rifles in the hope of warning

the Afghans above them. The reports, it afterwards transpired, were

heard by a sentry, who reported the matter to the commander of the

Afghan detachment; he, for his part, did nothing. Much alarm was felt in

the British column when the shots rang out in the darkness; a native

officer hard by came up at once, and, by smelling the rifles of all his

men, found out the offenders; but as they were Mohammedans, he said

nothing, in the hope of screening his co-religionists. Later on, these

facts transpired at a court-martial, whereupon the elder of the two

offenders, who was also the first to fire, was condemned to death, and

the younger to a long term of imprisonment. The defaulting officer

likewise received due punishment[312].

[Footnote 312: Lord Roberts, _Forty-One Years in India_, vol. ii. p. 130

_et seq_.; Major J.A.S. Colquhoun, _With the Kurram Field Force,

1878-79_, pp. 101-102.]

After this alarming incident, the 72nd Highlanders were sent forward to

take the place of the native regiment previously leading; and once more

the little column struggled on through the darkness up the rocky path.

Their staunchness met its reward. At dawn the Highlanders and 5th

Gurkhas charged the Afghan detachment in its entrenchments and

breastworks of trees, and were soon masters of the Spingawi position. A

long and anxious time of waiting now ensued, caused by the failure of

the first frontal attack on the Kotal; but Roberts' pressure on the

flank of the main Afghan position and another frontal attack sent the

enemy flying in utter rout, leaving behind guns and waggons. The Kurram

column had driven eight Afghan regiments and numbers of hillmen from a

seemingly impregnable position, and now held the second of the outer

passes leading towards Cabul (December 2, 1878). The Afghans offered but

slight resistance at the Shutargardan Pass further on, and from that

point the invaders looked down on valleys that conducted them easily to

the Ameer's capital[313].

[Footnote 313: Lord Roberts, _op. cit._, vol. ii. pp. 135-149; S.H.

Shadbolt, _The Afghan Campaigns of 1878-80_, vol. i. pp. 21-25

(with plan).]

Meanwhile equal success was attending the 3rd British column, that of

General Biddulph, which operated from Quetta. It occupied Sibi and the

Khojak Pass; and on January 8, 1879, General Stewart and the vanguard

reached Candahar, which they entered in triumph. The people seemed to

regard their entry with indifference. This was but natural. Shere Ali

had ruined his own cause. Hearing of the first defeats he fled from

Cabul in company with the remaining members of the Russian Mission still

at that city (December 13), and made for Afghan Turkestan in the hope of

inducing his northern allies to give active aid.

He now discovered his error. The Czar's Government had been most active

in making mischief between England and the Ameer, especially while the

diplomatic struggle was going on at Berlin; but after the signature of

the Treaty of Berlin (July 13, 1878), the natural leaning of Alexander

II. towards peace and quietness began by degrees to assert itself. The

warlike designs of Kaufmann and his officials in Turkestan received a

check, though not so promptly as was consistent with strict neutrality.

Gradually the veil fell from the ex-Ameer's eyes. On the day of his

flight (December 13), he wrote to the "Officers of the British

Government," stating that he was about to proceed to St. Petersburg,

"where, before a Congress, the whole history of the transactions between

myself and yourselves will be submitted to all the Powers[314]." But

nine days later he published a firman containing a very remarkable

letter purporting to come from General Stolieteff at Livadia in the

Crimea, where he was staying with the Czar. After telling him that the

British desired to come to terms with him (the Ameer) through the

intervention of the Sultan, the letter proceeded as follows:--

But the Emperor's desire is that you should not admit the

English into your country, and like last year, you are to

treat them with deceit and deception until the present cold

season passes away. Then the Almighty's will will be made

manifest to you, that is to say, the [Russian] Government

having repeated the Bismillah, the Bismillah will come to

your assistance. In short you are to rest assured that

matters will end well. If God permits, we will convene a

Government meeting at St. Petersburg, that is to say, a

Congress, which means an assemblage of Powers. We will then

open an official discussion with the English Government, and

either by force of words and diplomatic action we will

entirely cut off all English communications and interference

with Afghanistan, or else events will end in a mighty and

important war. By the help of God, by spring not a symptom or

a vestige of trouble and dissatisfaction will remain in

Afghanistan.

[Footnote 314: Parl. Papers, Afghanistan, No. 7, (1879), p. 9. He also

states on p. 172 that the advice of the Afghan officials who accompanied

Shere Ali in his flight was (even in April-May 1879) favourable to a

Russian alliance, and that they advised Yakub in this sense. See

Kaufmann's letters to Yakub, in Parl. Papers, Afghanistan, No.

9 (1879).]

It is impossible to think that the Czar had any knowledge of this

treacherous epistle, which, it is to be hoped, originated with the

lowest of Russian agents, or emanated from some Afghan chief in their

pay. Nevertheless the fact that Shere Ali published it shows that he

hoped for Russian help, even when the British held the keys of his

country in their hands. But one hope after another faded away, and in

his last days he must have come to see that he had been merely the

catspaw of the Russian bear. He died on February 21, 1879, hard by the

city of Bactra, the modern Balkh.

That "mother of cities" has seen strange vicissitudes. It nourished the

Zoroastrian and Buddhist creeds in their youth; from its crowded

monasteries there shone forth light to the teeming millions of Asia,

until culture was stamped out under the heel of Genghis Khan, and later,

of Timur. In a still later day it saw the dawning greatness of that most

brilliant but ill-starred of the Mogul Emperors, Aurungzebe. Its fallen

temples and convents, stretching over many a mile, proclaim it to be

the city of buried hopes. There was, then, something fitting in the

place of Shere Ali's death. He might so readily have built up a powerful

Afghan State in friendly union with the British Raj; he chose otherwise,

and ended his life amidst the wreckage of his plans and the ruin of his

kingdom. This result of the trust which he had reposed in Muscovite

promises was not lost on the Afghan people and their rulers.

There is no need to detail the events of the first half of the year 1879

in Afghanistan. On the assembly of Parliament in February, Lord

Beaconsfield declared that our objects had been attained in that land

now that the three chief mountain highways between Afghanistan and India

were completely in our power. It remained to find a responsible ruler

with whom a lasting peace could be signed. Many difficulties were in the

way owing to the clannish feuds of the Afghans and the number of

possible claimants for the crown. Two men stood forth as the most likely

rulers, Shere Ali's rebellious son, Yakub Khan, who had lately been

released from his long confinement, and Abdur Rahman, son of Ufzal Khan,

who was still kept by the Russians in Turkestan under some measure of

constraint, doubtless in the hope that he would be a serviceable trump

card in the intricate play of rival interests certain to ensue at Cabul.

About February 20, Yakub sent overtures for peace to the British

Government; and, as the death of his father at that time greatly

strengthened his claim, it was favourably considered at London and

Calcutta. Despite one act at least of flagrant treachery, he was

recognised as Ameer. On May 8 he entered the British camp at Gandarnak,

near Jelalabad; and after negotiations, a treaty was signed there, May

26. It provided for an amnesty, the control of the Ameer's foreign

policy by the British Government, the establishment of a British

Resident at Cabul, the construction of a telegraph line to that city,

the grant of commercial facilities, and the cession to India of the

frontier districts of Kurram, Pishin, and Sibi (the latter two are near

Quetta). The British Government retained control over the Khyber and

Michnee Passes and over the neighbouring tribes (which had never

definitely acknowledged Afghan rule). It further agreed to pay to the

Ameer and his successors a yearly subsidy of six lakhs of rupees (nearly

£50,000)[315].

[Footnote 315: Parl. Papers, Afghanistan, No. 7 (1879), p. 23; Roberts,

_op. cit._ pp. 170-173.]

General Roberts and many others feared that the treaty had been signed

too hastily, and that the Afghans, "an essentially arrogant and

conceited people," needed a severer lesson before they acquiesced in

British suzerainty. But no sense of foreboding depressed Major Sir Louis

Cavagnari, the gallant and able officer who had carried out so much of

the work on the frontier, when he proceeded to take up his abode at

Cabul as British Resident (July 24). The chief danger lay in the Afghan

troops, particularly the regiments previously garrisoned at Herat, who

knew little or nothing of British prowess, and whose fanaticism was

inflamed by arrears of pay. Cavagnari's Journal kept at Cabul ended on

August 19 with the statement that thirty-three Russians were coming up

the Oxus to the Afghan frontier. But the real disturbing cause seems to

have been the hatred of the Afghan troops to foreigners.

Failure to pay was so usual a circumstance in Afghanistan as scarcely to

account for the events that ensued. Yet it furnished the excuse for an

outbreak. Early on September 3, when assembled for what proved to be the

farce of payment at Bala Hissar (the citadel), three regiments mutinied,

stoned their officers, and then rushed towards the British Embassy.

These regiments took part in the first onset against an unfortified

building held by the Mission and a small escort. A steady musketry fire

from the defenders long held them at bay; but, when joined by townsfolk

and other troops, the mutineers set fire to the gates, and then,

bursting in, overpowered the gallant garrison. The Ameer made only

slight efforts to quell this treacherous outbreak, and, while defending

his own palaces by faithful troops, sent none to help the envoy. These

facts, as reported by trustworthy witnesses, did not correspond to the

magniloquent assurances of fidelity that came from Yakub himself[316].

[Footnote 316: Parl. Papers, Afghanistan, No. 1 (1880), pp. 32-42,

89-96.]

Arrangements were at once made to retrieve this disaster, but staff and

transport arrangements caused serious delay. At length General Roberts

was able to advance up the Kurram Valley and carry the Shutargardan Pass

by storm, an exploit fully equal to his former capture of the Peiwar

Kotal in the same mountain range. Somewhat further on he met the Ameer,

and was unfavourably impressed with him: "An insignificant-looking

man, . . . with a receding forehead, a conical-shaped head, and no chin to

speak of, . . . possessed moreover of a very shifty eye." Yakub justified

this opinion by seeking on various pretexts to delay the British

advance, and by sending to Cabul news as to the numbers of the

British force.

All told it numbered only 4000 fighting men with 18 cannon.

Nevertheless, on nearing Cabul, it assailed a strong position at

Charasia, held by 13 regular regiments of the enemy and some 10,000

irregulars. The charges of Highlanders (the 72nd and 92nd), Gurkhas, and

Punjabis proved to be irresistible, and drove the Afghans from two

ridges in succession. This feat of arms, which bordered on the

miraculous, served to reveal the feelings of the Ameer in a manner

equally ludicrous and sinister. Sitting in the British camp, he watched

the fight with great eagerness, then with growing concern, until he

finally needed all his oriental composure for the final compliment which

he bestowed on the victor. Later on it transpired that he and his

adherents had laid careful plans for profiting by the defeat of the

venturesome little force, so as to ensure its annihilation[317].

[Footnote 317: Roberts, _op. cit._ vol. ii. pp. 213-224; Hensman, _The

Afghan War of 1878-1880_.]

The brilliant affair at Charasia served to bring out the conspicuous

gallantry of two men, who were later on to win distinction in wider

fields, Major White and Colour-Sergeant Hector Macdonald. White carried

a ridge at the head of a body of 50 Highlanders. When the enemy fled to

a second ridge, he resolved to spare the lives of his men by taking a

rifle and stalking the enemy alone, until he suddenly appeared on their

flank. Believing that his men were at his back, the Afghans turned

and fled.

On October 9 Roberts occupied the Siah Sang ridge, overlooking Cabul,

and on the next day entered the citadel, Bala Hissar, to inspect the

charred and blood-stained ruins of the British Embassy. In the embers of

a fire he and his staff found numbers of human bones. On October 12

Yakub came to the General to announce his intention of resigning the

Ameership, as "he would rather be a grass-cutter in the English camp

than ruler of Afghanistan." On the next day the British force entered

the city itself in triumph, and Roberts put the Ameer's Ministers under

arrest. The citizens were silent but respectful, and manifested their

satisfaction when he proclaimed that only those guilty of the

treacherous attack on the Residency would be punished. Cabul itself was

much more Russian than English. The Afghan officers wore Russian

uniforms, Russian goods were sold in the bazaars, and Russian money was

found in the Treasury. It is evident that the Czar's officials had long

been pushing on their designs, and that further persistency on the part

of England in the antiquated policy of "masterly inactivity" would have

led to Afghanistan becoming a Muscovite satrapy.

The pendulum now swung sharply in favour of India. To that land Roberts

despatched the ex-Ameer on December 1, on the finding of the Commission

that he had been guilty of criminal negligence (if not worse) at the

time of the massacre of Cavagnari and his escort. Two Afghan Sirdars,

whose guilt respecting that tragedy had been clearly proven, were also

deported and imprisoned. This caused much commotion, and towards the

close of the year the preaching of a fanatic, whose name denoted

"fragrance of the universe," stirred up hatred to the conquerors.

Bands of tribesmen began to cluster around Cabul, and an endeavour to

disperse them led to a temporary British reverse not far from the

Sherpur cantonments where Roberts held his troops. The situation was

serious. As generally happens with Asiatics, the hillmen rose by

thousands at the news, and beset the line of communications with India.

Sir Frederick Roberts, however, staunchly held his ground at the Sherpur

camp, beating off one very serious attack of the tribesmen on December

20-23. On the next day General Gough succeeded in breaking through from

Gandamak to his relief. Other troops were hurried up from India, and

this news ended the anxiety which had throbbed through the Empire at the

news of Roberts being surrounded near Cabul.

Now that the league of hillmen had been for the time broken up, it

became more than ever necessary to find a ruler for Afghanistan, and

settle affairs with all speed. This was also desirable in view of the

probability of a general election in the United Kingdom in the early

part of the year 1880, the Ministry wishing to have ready an Afghan

settlement to act as a soporific drug on the ravening Cerberus of

democracy at home. Unhappily, the outbreak of the Zulu War on January

11, 1880, speedily followed by the disaster of Isandlana, redoubled the

complaints in the United Kingdom, with the result that matters were more

than ever pressed on in Afghanistan.

Some of the tribes clamoured for the return of Yakub, only to be

informed by General Roberts that such a step would never be allowed. In

the midst of this uncertainty, when the hour for the advent of a strong

man seemed to have struck, he opportunely appeared. Strange to say, he

came from Russian Turkestan.

As has been stated above, Abdur Rahman, son of Ufzal Khan, had long

lived there as a pensioner of the Czar; his bravery and skill in

intrigue had been well known. The Russian writer, Petrovsky, described

him as longing, above all things, to get square with the English and

Shere Ali. It was doubtless with this belief in the exile's aims that

the Russians gave him £2500 and 200 rifles. His advent in Afghanistan

seemed well calculated to add to the confusion there and to the

difficulties of England. With only 100 followers he forded the Oxus and,

early in 1880, began to gather around him a band in Afghan Turkestan.

His success was startlingly rapid, and by the end of March he was master

of all that district[318].

[Footnote 318: See his adventures in _The Life of Abdur Rahman, _by

Sultan Mohammed Khan, vol. ii, chaps, v., vi. He gave out that he came

to expel the English (pp. 173-175).]

But the political results of this first success were still more

surprising. Lord Lytton, Sir Frederick Roberts, and Mr. Lepel Griffin

(political commissioner in Afghanistan) soon saw the advantage of

treating with him for his succession to the throne of Cabul. The

Viceroy, however, true to his earlier resolve to break up Afghanistan,

added the unpleasant condition that the districts of Candahar and Herat

must now be severed from the north of Afghanistan. Abdur Rahman's first

request that the whole land should form a neutral State under the joint

protection of Great Britain and Russia was decisively negatived on the

ground that the former Power stood pledged by the Treaty of Gandamak not

to allow the intervention of any foreign State in Afghan affairs. A

strong man like Abdur Rahman appreciated the decisiveness of this

statement; and, while holding back his hand with the caution and

suspicion natural to Afghans, he thenceforth leant more to the British

side, despite the fact that Lord Lytton had recognised a second Shere

Ali as "Wali," or Governor of Candahar and its district[319]. On April

19, Sir Donald Stewart routed a large Afghan force near Ghaznee, and

thereafter occupied that town. He reached Cabul on May 5. It appeared

that the resistance of the natives was broken.

[Footnote 319: Roberts, _op. cit._ vol. ii. pp. 315-323.]

Such was the state of affairs when the General Election of April 1880

installed Mr. Gladstone in power in place of Lord Beaconsfield. As has

been hinted above, Afghan affairs had helped to bring about this change;

and the world now waited to see what would be the action of the party

which had fulminated against the "forward policy" in India. As is

usually the case after ministerial changes, the new Prime Minister

disappointed the hopes of his most ardent friends and the fears of his

bitterest opponents. The policy of "scuttle" was, of course, never

thought of; but, as the new Government stood pledged to limit its

responsibilities in India as far as possible, one great change took

place. Lord Lytton laid down his Viceroyalty when the full results of

the General Election manifested themselves; and the world saw the

strange sight of a brilliant and powerful ruler, who took precedence of

ancient dynasties in India, retiring into private life at the bidding of

votes silently cast in ballot-boxes far away in islands of the north.

No more startling result of the working of the democratic system has

ever been seen in Imperial affairs; and it may lead the student of Roman

History to speculate what might have been the results in that ancient

Empire if the populace of Italy could honestly have discharged the like

duties with regard to the action of their proconsuls. Roman policy might

have lacked some of its stateliness and solidity, but assuredly the

government of the provinces would have improved. Whatever may be said as

to the evils of change brought about by popular caprice, they are less

serious than those which grow up under the shadow of an uncriticised and

irresponsible bureaucracy.

Some time elapsed before the new Viceroy, Lord Ripon, could take up the

reins of power. In that interval difficulties had arisen with Abdur

Rahman, but on July 20 the British authorities at Cabul publicly

recognised him as Ameer of Northern Afghanistan. The question as to the

severance of Candahar from Cabul, and the amount of the subsidy to be

paid to the new ruler, were left open and caused some difference of

opinion; but a friendly arrangement was practically assured a few

days later.

For many reasons this was desirable. As far back as April 11, 1880, Mr.

(now Sir) Lepel Griffin had announced in a Durbar at Cabul that the

British forces would withdraw from Afghanistan when the Government

considered that a satisfactory settlement had been made; that it was the

friend, not the enemy, of Islam, and would keep the sword for its

enemies. The time had now come to make good these statements. In the

closing days of July Abdur Rahman was duly installed in power at Cabul,

and received 19-1/2 lakhs of rupees (£190,500)[320]. Meanwhile his

champions prepared to evacuate that city and to avenge a disaster which

had overtaken their arms in the Province of Candahar. On July 29 news

arrived that a British brigade had been cut to pieces at Maiwand.

[Footnote 320: _The Life of Abdur Rahman_, vol. ii. pp. 197-98. For

these negotiations and the final recognition, see Parl. Papers,

Afghanistan, No. 1 (1881), pp. 16-51.]

The fact that we supported the Sirdar named Shere Ali at Candahar seemed

to blight his authority over the tribesmen in that quarter. All hope of

maintaining his rule vanished when tidings arrived that Ayub Khan, a

younger brother of the deported Yakub, was marching from the side of

Herat to claim the crown. Already the new pretender had gained the

support of several Afghan chiefs around Herat, and now proclaimed a

_jehad_, or holy war, against the infidels holding Cabul. With a force

of 7500 men and 10 guns he left Herat on June 15, and moved towards the

River Helmand, gathering around him numbers of tribesmen and

ghazis[321].

[Footnote 321: "A ghazi is a man who, purely for the sake of his

religion, kills an unbeliever, Kaffir, Sikh, Hindu, Buddhist, or

Christian, in the belief that in so doing he gains a sure title to

Paradise" (R.I. Bruce, _The Forward Policy_, p. 245).]

In order to break this gathering cloud of war betimes, the Indian

Government ordered General Primrose, who commanded the British garrison

at Candahar, to despatch a brigade to the Helmand. Accordingly,

Brigadier-General Burrows, with 2300 British and Indian troops, marched

out from Candahar on July 11. On the other side of the Helmand lay an

Afghan force, acting in the British interest, sent thither by the

Sirdar, Shere Ali. Two days later the whole native force mutinied and

marched off towards Ayub Khan. Burrows promptly pursued them, captured

their six guns, and scattered the mutineers with loss.

Even so his position was most serious. In front of him, at no great

distance, was a far superior force flushed with fanaticism and the hope

of easy triumph; the River Helmand offered little, if any, protection,

for at that season it was everywhere fordable; behind him stretched

twenty-five miles of burning desert. By a speedy retreat across this

arid zone to Khushk-i-Nakhud, Burrows averted the disaster then

imminent, but his anxiety to carry out the telegraphic orders of the

Commander-in-chief, and to prevent Ayub's force from reaching Ghaznee,

led him into an enterprise which proved to be far beyond his strength.

Hearing that 2000 of the enemy's horsemen and a large number of ghazis

had hurried forward in advance of the main body to Maiwand, he

determined to attack them there. At 6.30 A.M. on July 27 he struck camp

and moved forwards with his little force of 2599 fighting men. Daring

has wrought wonders in Indian warfare, but rarely has any British

commander undertaken so dangerous a task as that to which Burrows set

his hand on that morning.

During his march he heard news from a spy that the Afghan main body was

about to join their vanguard; but, either because he distrusted the

news, or hoped even at the last to "pluck the flower, safety, out of the

nettle, danger," he pushed on and sought to cut through the line of the

enemy's advance as it made for Maiwand. About 10 A.M. his column passed

the village of Khig and, crossing a dried watercourse, entered a parched

plain whereon the fringe of the enemy's force could dimly be seen

through the thick and sultry air. Believing that he had to deal with no

large body of men, Burrows pushed on, and two of Lieutenant Maclaine's

guns began to shell their scattered groups. Like wasps roused to fury,

the ghazis rushed together as if for a charge, and lines of Afghan

regulars came into view. The deceitful haze yielded up its secret.

Burrows' brigade stood face to face with 15,000 Afghans. Moreover some

influence, baleful to England, kept back those Asiatics from their

usually heedless rush. Their guns came up and opened fire on Burrows'

line. Even the white quivering groups of their ghazis forebore to charge

with their whetted knives, but clung to a gully which afforded good

cover 500 yards away from the British front and right flank; there the

Afghan regulars galled the exposed khaki line, while their cannon, now

numbering thirty pieces, kept up a fire to which Maclaine's twelve guns

could give no adequate reply.

[Illustration: Battle of Maiwand]

It has been stated by military critics that Burrows erred in letting the

fight at the outset become an affair of artillery, in which he was

plainly the weaker. Some of his guns were put out of action; and in that

open plain there was no cover for the fighting line, the reserves, or

the supporting horse. All of them sustained heavy losses from the

unusually accurate aim of the Afghan gunners. But the enemy had also

suffered under our cannonade and musketry; and it is consonant with the

traditions of Indian warfare to suppose that a charge firmly pushed home

at the first signs of wavering in the hostile mass would have retrieved

the day. Plassey and Assaye were won by sheer boldness. Such a chance is

said to have occurred about noon at Maiwand. However that may be,

Burrows decided to remain on the defensive, perhaps because the hostile

masses were too dense and too full of fight to warrant the adoption of

dashing tactics.

After the sun passed his zenith the enemy began to press on the front

and flanks. Burrows swung round his wings to meet these threatening

moves; but, as the feline and predatory instincts of the Afghans kindled

more and more at the sight of the weak, bent, and stationary line, so

too the _morale_ of the defenders fell. The British and Indian troops

alike were exhausted by the long march and by the torments of thirst in

the sultry heat. Under the fire of the Afghan cannon and the frontal and

flank advance of the enemy, the line began to waver about 2 P.M., and

two of the foremost guns were lost. A native regiment in the centre,

Jacob's Rifles, fled in utter confusion and spread disorder on the

flanks, where the 1st Bombay Grenadiers and the 66th line regiment had

long maintained a desperate fight. General Nuttall now ordered several

squadrons of the 3rd Light Cavalry and 3rd Sind Horse to recover the

guns and stay the onrushing tide, but their numbers were too small for

the task, and the charge was not pressed home. Finally the whole mass of

pursued and pursuers rolled towards the village of Khig and its outlying

enclosures.

There a final stand was made. Colonel Galbraith and about one hundred

officers and men of the 66th threw themselves into a garden enclosure,

plied the enemy fiercely with bullets, and time after time beat back

every rush of the ghazis, now rioting in that carnival of death.

Surrounded by the flood of the Afghan advance, the little band fought

on, hopeless of life, but determined to uphold to the last the honour

of their flag and country. At last only eleven were left. These heroes

determined to die in the open; charging out on the masses around, they

formed square, and back to back stood firing on the foe. Not until the

last of them fell under the Afghan rifles did the ghazis venture to

close in with their knives, so dauntless had been the bearing of this

band[322].

[Footnote 322: Report of General Primrose in Parl. Papers, Afghanistan,

No. 3 (1880), p. 156.]

They had not fought in vain. Their stubborn stand held back the Afghan

pursuit and gave time for the fugitives to come together on the way back

to Candahar. Had the pursuit been pushed on with vigour few, if any,

could have survived. Even so, Maiwand was one of the gravest disasters

ever sustained by our Indian army. It cost Burrows' force nearly half

its numbers; 934 officers and men were killed and 175 wounded. The

strange disproportion between these totals may serve as a measure of the

ferocity of Afghans in the hour of victory. Of the non-combatants 790

fell under the knives of the ghazis. The remnant struggled towards

Candahar, whence, on the 28th, General Primrose despatched a column to

the aid of the exhausted survivors. In the citadel of that fortress

there mustered as many as 4360 effectives as night fell. But what were

these in face of Ayub's victorious army, now joined by tribesmen eager

for revenge and plunder[323]?

[Footnote 323: S.H. Shadbolt, _The Afghan Campaigns of_ 1878-80, pp.

96-100. Parl. Papers, Afghanistan, No. 2 (1880), p. 21; No. 3, pp.

103-5; Lord Roberts, _op. cit._ vol. ii. pp. 333-5; Hensman, _op. cit._

pp. 553-4.]

In face of this disaster, the British generals in Northern Afghanistan

formed a decision commendable alike for its boldness and its sagacity.

They decided to despatch at once all available troops from Cabul to the

relief of the beleaguered garrison at Candahar. General Sir Frederick

Roberts had handed over the command at Cabul to Sir Donald Stewart, and

was about to operate among the tribes on the Afghan frontier when the

news of the disaster sent him hurrying back to confer with the new

commander-in-chief. Together they recommended the plan named above.

It involved grave dangers: for affairs in the north of Afghanistan were

unsettled; and to withdraw the rest of our force from Cabul to the

Khyber would give the rein to local disaffection. The Indian authorities

at Simla inclined to the despatch of the force at Quetta, comprising

seven regiments of native troops, from Bombay. The route was certainly

far easier; for, thanks to the toil of engineers, the railway from the

Indus Valley towards Quetta had been completed up to a point in advance

of Sibi; and the labours of Major Sandeman, Bruce, and others, had kept

that district fairly quiet[324]. But the troops at Quetta and Pishin

were held to be incapable of facing a superior force of victorious

Afghans. At Cabul there were nine regiments of infantry, three of

cavalry, and three mountain-batteries, all of them British or picked

Indian troops. On August 3, Lord Ripon telegraphed his permission for

the despatch of the Cabul field-force to Candahar. It amounted to 2835

British (the 72nd and 92nd Highlanders and 2nd battalion of the 60th

Rifles, and 9th Lancers), 7151 Indian troops, together with 18 guns. On

August 9 it struck camp and set out on a march which was destined to

be famous.

[Footnote 324: _Colonel Sandeman: His Life and Work on our Indian

Frontier,_ by T.H. Thornton; R.I. Bruce, _The Forward Policy and its

Results_ (1900), chaps. iv. v.; _Candahar in 1879; being the Diary of

Major Le Mesurier, R.E._ (1880). The last had reported in 1879 that the

fortifications of Candahar were weak and the citadel in bad repair.]

Fortunately before it left the Cabul camp on August 9, matters were

skilfully arranged by Mr. Griffin with Abdur Rahman, on terms which will

be noticed presently. In spite of one or two suspicious incidents, his

loyalty to the British cause now seemed to be assured, and that, too, in

spite of the remonstrances of many of his supporters. He therefore sent

forward messengers to prepare the way for Roberts' force. They did so by

telling the tribesmen that the new Ameer was sending the foreign army

out of the land by way of Candahar! This pleasing fiction in some

measure helped on the progress of the force, and the issue of events

proved it to be no very great travesty of the truth.

Every possible device was needed to ensure triumph over physical

obstacles. In order to expedite the march through the difficult country

between Cabul and Candahar, no wheeled guns or waggons went with the

force. As many as 8000 native bearers or drivers set out with the force,

but very many of them deserted, and the 8255 horses, mules and donkeys

were thenceforth driven by men told off from the regiments. The line of

march led at first through the fertile valley of the River Logar, where

the troops and followers were able to reap the ripening crops and

subsist in comfort. Money was paid for the crops thus appropriated.

After leaving this fertile district for the barren uplands, the question

of food and fuel became very serious; but it was overcome by ingenuity

and patience, though occasional times of privation had to be faced, as,

for instance, when only very small roots were found for the cooking of

corn and meat. A lofty range, the Zamburak Kotal, was crossed with great

toil and amidst biting cold at night-time; but the ability of the

commander, the forethought and organising power of his Staff, and the

hardihood of the men overcame all trials and obstacles.

The army then reached the more fertile districts around Ghazni, and on

August 15 gained an entry without resistance to that once formidable

stronghold. Steady marching brought the force eight days later to the

hill fort of Kelat-i-Ghilzai, where it received a hearty welcome from

the British garrison of 900 men. Sir Frederick Roberts determined to

take on these troops with him, as he needed all his strength to cope

with the growing power of Yakub. After a day's rest (well earned, seeing

that the force had traversed 225 miles in 14 days), the column set forth

on its last stages, cheered by the thought of rescuing their comrades at

Candahar, but more and more oppressed by the heat, which, in the lower

districts of South Afghanistan, is as fierce as anywhere in the world.

Mr. Hensman, the war correspondent of the _Daily News,_ summed up in one

telling phrase the chief difficulties of the troops. "The sun laughed to

scorn 100° F. in the shade." On the 27th the commander fell with a sharp

attack of fever.

Nevertheless he instructed the Indian cavalry to push on to Robat and

open up heliographic communication with Candahar. It then transpired

that the approach of the column had already changed the situation.

Already, on August 23, Ayub had raised the siege and retired to the

hills north of the city. That relief came none too soon appeared on the

morning of the 31st, when the thin and feeble cheering that greeted the

rescuers on their entrance to the long beleaguered town told its sad

tale of want, disease, and depression of heart. The men who had marched

313 miles in 22 days--an average of 14-1/4 miles a day--felt a thrill of

sympathy, not unmixed with disgust in some cases, at the want of spirit

too plainly discernible among the defenders. The Union Jack was not

hoisted on the citadel until the rescuers were near at hand[325].

General Roberts might have applied to them Hecuba's words to Priam:--

Non tali auxilio, nec defensoribus istis

Tempus eget.

As for the _morale_ of the relieving force, it now stood at the zenith,

as was seen on the following day. Framing his measures so as to

encourage Ayub to stand his ground, Roberts planned his attack in the

way that had already led to success, namely, a frontal attack more

imposing than serious, while the enemy's flank was turned and his

communications threatened. These moves were carried out by Generals Ross

and Baker with great skill. Under the persistent pressure of the British

onset the Afghans fell back from position to position, north-west of

Candahar; until finally Major White with the 92nd, supported by Gurkhas

and the 23rd Pioneers, drove them back to their last ridge, the Baba

Wali Kotal, swarmed up its western flank, and threw the whole of the

hostile mass in utter confusion into the plain beyond. Owing to the very

broken nature of the ground, few British and Indian horsemen were at

hand to reap the full fruits of victory; but many of Ayub's regulars and

ghazis fell under their avenging sabres. The beaten force deserved no

mercy. When the British triumph was assured, the Afghan chief ordered

his prisoner, Lieutenant Maclaine, to be butchered; whereupon he himself

and his suite took to flight. The whole of his artillery, twenty-seven

pieces, including the two British guns lost at Maiwand, fell into the

victor's hands. In fact, Ayub's force ceased to exist; many of his

troops at once assumed the garb of peaceful cultivators, and the

Pretender himself fled to Herat[326].

[Footnote 325: Roberts, _op. cit._ vol. ii. p. 357.]

[Footnote 326: Parl. Papers, Afghanistan, No. 3 (1880), p. 82. Hensman,

_The Afghan War;_ Shadbolt, _op. cit._ pp. 108-110. The last reckons

Ayub's force at 12,800, of whom 1200 were slain.]

Thus ended an enterprise which, but for the exercise of the highest

qualities on the part of General Roberts, his Staff, the officers, and

rank and file, might easily have ended in irretrievable disaster. This

will appear from the following considerations. The question of food and

water during a prolonged march in that parched season of the year might

have caused the gravest difficulties; but they were solved by a wise

choice of route along or near water-courses where water could generally

be procured. The few days when little or no water could be had showed

what might have happened. Further, the help assured by the action of the

Ameer's emissaries among the tribesmen was of little avail after the

valley of the Logar was left behind. Many of the tribes were actively

hostile, and cut off stragglers and baggage-animals.

Above and beyond these daily difficulties, there was the problem as to

the line of retreat to be taken in case of a reverse inflicted by the

tribes _en route._ The army had given up its base of operations; for at

the same time the remaining British and Indian regiments at Cabul were

withdrawn to the Khyber Pass. True, there was General Phayre's force

holding Quetta, and endeavouring to stretch out a hand towards Candahar;

but the natural obstacles and lack of transport prevented the arrival of

help from that quarter. It is, however, scarcely correct to say that

Roberts had no line of retreat assured in case of defeat[327]. No

serious fighting was to be expected before Candahar; for the Afghan

plundering instinct was likely to keep Ayub near to that city, where the

garrison was hard pressed. After leaving Ghazni, the Quetta route became

the natural way of retirement.

[Footnote 327: Shadbolt, _op. cit._ p. 107.]

As it happened, the difficulties were mainly those inflicted by the

stern hand of Nature herself; and their severity may be gauged by the

fact that out of a well-seasoned force of less than 10,000 fighting men

as many as 940 sick had at once to go into hospital at Candahar. The

burning days and frosty nights of the Afghan uplands were more fatal

than the rifles of Ayub and the knives of the ghazis. As Lord Roberts

has modestly admitted, the long march gained in dramatic effect because

for three weeks he and his army were lost to the world, and, suddenly

emerging from the unknown, gained a decisive triumph. But, allowing for

this element of picturesqueness, so unusual in an age when the daily din

of telegrams dulls the perception of readers, we may still maintain that

the march from Cabul to Candahar will bear comparison with any similar

achievement in modern history.

The story of British relations with Afghanistan is one which

illustrates the infinite capacity of our race to "muddle through" to

some more or less satisfactory settlement. This was especially the case

in the spring and summer of 1880, when the accession of Mr. Gladstone to

power and the disaster of Maiwand changed the diplomatic and military

situation. In one sense, and that not a cryptic one, these events served

to supplement one another. They rendered inevitable the entire

evacuation of Afghanistan. That, it need hardly be said, was the policy

of Mr. Gladstone, of the Secretary for India, Lord Hartington (now Duke

of Devonshire), and of Lord Ripon.

On one point both parties were agreed. Events had shown how undesirable

it was to hold Cabul and Central Afghanistan. The evacuation of all

these districts was specified in Lord Lytton's last official Memorandum,

that which he signed on June 7, 1880, as certain to take place as soon

as the political arrangements at Cabul were duly settled. The retiring

Viceroy, however, declared that in his judgment the whole Province of

Candahar must be severed from the Cabul Power, whether Abdur Rahman

assented to it or not[328]. Obviously this implied the subjection of

Candahar to British rule in some form. General Roberts himself argued

stoutly for the retention of that city and district; and so did most of

the military men. Lord Wolseley, on the other hand, urged that it would

place an undesirable strain upon the resources of India, and that the

city could readily be occupied from the Quetta position, if ever the

Russians advanced to Herat. The Cabinet strongly held this opinion. The

exponents of Whig ideas, Lord Hartington and the Duke of Argyll, herein

agreeing with the exponents of a peaceful un-Imperial commercialism, Mr.

Bright and Mr. Chamberlain. Consequently the last of the British troops

were withdrawn from Candahar on April 15, 1881.

[Footnote 328: Lady B. Balfour, _op. cit._ pp. 430, 445. On June 8 Lord

Ripon arrived at Simla and took over the Viceroyalty from Lord Lytton;

the latter was raised to an earldom.]

The retirement was more serious in appearance than in reality. The war

had brought some substantial gains. The new frontier acquired by the

Treaty of Gandamak--and the terms of that compact were practically void

until Roberts' victory at Candahar gave them body and life--provided

ample means for sending troops easily to the neighbourhood of Cabul,

Ghazni, and Candahar; and experience showed that troops kept in the hill

stations on the frontier preserved their mettle far better than those

cantoned in or near the unhealthy cities just named. The Afghans had

also learnt a sharp lesson of the danger and futility of leaning on

Russia; and to this fact must be attributed the steady adherence of the

new Ameer to the British side.

Moreover, the success of his rule depended largely on our evacuation of

his land. Experience has shown that a practically independent and united

Afghanistan forms a better barrier to a Russian advance than an

Afghanistan rent by the fanatical feuds that spring up during a foreign

occupation. Finally, the great need of India after the long famine was

economy. A prosperous and contented India might be trusted to beat off

any army that Russia could send; a bankrupt India would be the

breeding-ground of strife and mutiny; and on these fell powers Skobeleff

counted as his most formidable allies[329].

[Footnote 329: See Appendix; also Lord Hartington's speeches in the

House of Commons, March 25-6, 1881]

It remained to be seen whether Abdur Rahman could win Candahar and

Herat, and, having won them, keep them. At first Fortune smiled on his

rival, Ayub. That pretender sent a force from Herat southwards against

the Ameer's troops, defeated them, and took Candahar (July 1881). But

Abdur Rahman had learnt to scorn the shifts of the fickle goddess. With

a large force he marched to that city, bought over a part of Ayub's

following, and then utterly defeated the remainder. This defeat was the

end of Ayub's career. Flying back to Herat, he found it in the hands of

the Ameer's supporters, and was fain to seek refuge in Persia. Both of

these successes seem to have been due to the subsidies which the new

Ameer drew from India[330].

[Footnote 330: Abdur Rahman's own account (_op. cit._ ch. ix.) ascribes

his triumph to his own skill and to Ayub's cowardice.]

We may here refer to the last scene in which Ayub played a part before

Englishmen. Foiled of his hopes in Persia, he finally retired to India.

At a later day he appeared as a pensioner on the bounty of that

Government at a review held at Rawal Pindi in the Punjab in honour of

the visit of H.R.H. Prince Victor. The Prince, on being informed of his

presence, rode up to his carriage and saluted the fallen Sirdar. The

incident profoundly touched the Afghans who were present. One of them

said: "It was a noble act. It shows that you English are worthy to be

the rulers of this land[331]."

[Footnote 331: _Eighteen Years in the Khyber Pass (1879-1898)_, by

Colonel Sir R. Warburton, p. 213. The author's father had married a

niece of the Ameer Dost Mohammed.]

The Afghans were accustomed to see the conquered crushed and scorned by

the conqueror. Hence they did not resent the truculent methods resorted

to by Abdur Rahman in the consolidation of his power. In his relentless

grip the Afghan tribes soon acquired something of stability. Certainly

Lord Lytton never made a wiser choice than that of Abdur Rahman for the

Ameership; and, strange to say, that choice obviated the evils which the

Viceroy predicted as certain to accrue from the British withdrawal from

Candahar[332]. Contrasting the action of Great Britain towards himself

with that of Russia towards Shere Ali in his closing days, the new Ameer

could scarcely waver in his choice of an alliance. And while he held the

Indian Government away at arm's length, he never wavered at heart.

[Footnote 332: Lord Lytton's speech in the House of Lords, Jan. 1881.]

* * * * *

For in the meantime Russia had resumed her southward march, setting to

work with the doggedness that she usually displays in the task of

avenging slights and overbearing opposition. The penury of the

exchequer, the plots of the Nihilists, and the discontent of the whole

people after the inglorious struggle with Turkey, would have imposed on

any other Government a policy of rest and economy. To the stiff

bureaucracy of St. Petersburg these were so many motives for adopting a

forward policy in Asia. Conquests of Turkoman territory would bring

wealth, at least to the bureaucrats and generals; and military triumphs

might be counted on to raise the spirit of the troops, silence the talk

about official peculations during the Turkish campaign, and act in the

manner so sagaciously pointed out by Henry IV. to Prince Hal:--

Therefore, my Harry,

Be it thy course to busy giddy minds

With foreign quarrels, that action, hence borne out,

May waste the memory of the former days.

In the autumn of 1878 General Lomakin had waged an unsuccessful campaign

against the Tekke Turkomans, and finally fell back with heavy losses on

Krasnovodsk, his base of operations on the Caspian Sea. In the summer of

1879 another expedition set out from that port to avenge the defeat.

Owing to the death of the chief, Lomakin again rose to the command. His

bad dispositions at the climax of the campaign led him to a more serious

disaster. On coming up to the fortress of Denghil Tepe, near the town of

Geok Tepe, he led only 1400 men, or less than half of his force, to

bombard and storm a stronghold held by some 15,000 Turkomans, and

fortified on the plan suggested by a British officer, Lieutenant

Butler[333]. Preluding his attack by a murderous cannonade, he sent

round his cavalry to check the flight of the faint-hearted among the

garrison; and, before his guns had fully done their work, he ordered the

whole line to advance and carry the walls by storm. At once the Turkoman

fire redoubled in strength, tore away the front of every attacking

party, and finally drove back the assailants everywhere with heavy loss

(Sept. 9, 1879). On the morrow the invaders fell back on the River Atrek

and thence made their way back to the Caspian in sore straits[334].

[Footnote 333: This officer wrote to the _Globe_ on January 25, 1881,

stating that he had fortified two other posts east of Denghil Tepe. This

led Skobeleff to push on to Askabad after the capture of that place; but

he found no strongholds. See Marvin's _Russian Advance towards

India_, p. 85.]

[Footnote 334: Parl. Papers, Central Asia, No. 1 (1880), pp. 167-173,

182.]

The next year witnessed the advent of a great soldier on the scene.

Skobeleff, the stormy petrel of Russian life, the man whose giant frame

was animated by a hero's soul, who, when pitched from his horse in the

rush on one of the death-dealing redoubts at Plevna, rose undaunted to

his feet, brandished his broken sword in the air and yelled at the enemy

a defiance which thrilled his broken lines to a final mad charge over

the rampart--Skobeleff was at hand. He had culled his first laurels at

Khiva and Khokand, and now came to the shores of the Caspian to carry

forward the standards which he hoped one day to plant on the walls of

Delhi. That he cherished this hope is proved by the Memorandum which

will be found in the Appendix of this volume. His disclaimer of any such

intention to Mr. Charles Marvin (which will also be found there) shows

that under his frank exterior there lay hidden the strain of Oriental

duplicity so often found among his countrymen in political life.

At once the operations felt the influence of his active, cheery, and

commanding personality. The materials for a railway which had been lying

unused at Bender were now brought up; and Russia found the money to set

about the construction of a railway from Michaelovsk to the Tekke

Turkoman country--an undertaking which was destined wholly to change the

conditions of warfare in South Turkestan and on the Afghan border. By

the close of the year more than forty miles were roughly laid down, and

Skobeleff was ready for his final advance from Kizil Arvat towards

Denghil Tepe.

Meanwhile the Tekkes had gained reinforcements from their kinsmen in the

Merv oasis, and had massed nearly 40,000 men--so rumour ran--at their

stronghold. Nevertheless, they offered no serious resistance to the

Russian advance, doubtless because they hoped to increase the

difficulties of his retreat after the repulse which they determined to

inflict at their hill fortress. But Skobeleff excelled Lomakin in skill

no less than in prowess and magnetic influence. He proceeded to push his

trenches towards the stronghold, so that on January 23, 1881, his men

succeeded in placing 2600 pounds of gunpowder under the south-eastern

corner of the rampart. Early on the following day the Russians began the

assault; and while cannon and rockets wrought death and dismay among the

ill-armed defenders, the mighty shock of the explosion tore away fifty

yards of their rampart.

At once the Russian lines moved forward to end the work begun by

gunpowder. With the blare of martial music and with ringing cheers, they

charged at the still formidable walls. A young officer, Colonel

Kuropatkin, who has since won notoriety in other lands, was ready with

twelve companies to rush into the breach. Their leading files swarmed up

it before the Tekkes fully recovered from the blow dealt by the hand of

western science; but then the brave nomads closed in on foes with whom

they could fight, and brought the storming party to a standstill.

Skobeleff was ready for the emergency. True to his Plevna tactics of

ever feeding an attack at the crisis with new troops, he hurled forward

two battalions of the line and companies of dismounted Cossacks. These

pushed on the onset, hewed their way through all obstacles, and soon met

the smaller storming parties which had penetrated at other points. By 1

p.m. the Russian standard waved in triumph from the central hill of the

fortress, and thenceforth bands of Tekkes began to stream forth into the

desert on the further side.

Now Skobeleff gave to his foes a sharp lesson, which, he claimed, was

the most merciful in the end. He ordered his men, horse and foot alike,

to pursue the fugitives and spare no one. Ruthlessly the order was

obeyed. First, the flight of grape shot from the light guns, then the

bayonet, and lastly the Cossack lance, strewed the plain with corpses

of men, women, and children; darkness alone put an end to the butchery,

and then the desert for eleven miles eastwards of Denghil Tepe bore

witness to the thoroughness of Muscovite methods of warfare. All the men

within the fortress were put to the sword. Skobeleff himself estimated

the number of the slain at 20,000[335]. Booty to the value of £600,000

fell to the lot of the victors. Since that awful day the once predatory

tribes of Tekkes have given little trouble. Skobeleff sent his righthand

man, Kuropatkin, to occupy Askabad, and reconnoitre towards Merv. But

these moves were checked by order of the Czar.

[Footnote 335: _Siege and Assault of Denghil Tepe_. By General Skobeleff

(translated). London, 1881.]

A curious incident, told to Lord Curzon, illustrates the dread in which

Russian troops have since been held. At the opening of the railway to

Askabad, five years later, the Russian military bands began to play. At

once the women and children there present raised cries and shrieks of

dread, while the men threw themselves on the ground. They imagined that

the music was a signal for another onslaught like that which preluded

the capture of their former stronghold[336].

[Footnote 336: _Russia in Central Asia in 1889_. By the Hon. G.N. Curzon

(1889), p. 83.]

This victory proved to be the last of Skobeleff's career. The Government

having used their knight-errant, now put him on one side as too

insubordinate and ambitious for his post. To his great disgust, he was

recalled. He did not long survive. Owing to causes that are little

known, among which a round of fast-living is said to have played its

part, he died suddenly from failure of the heart at his residence near

Moscow (July 7 1882). Some there were who whispered dark things as to

his militant notions being out of favour with the new Czar, Alexander

III.; others pointed significantly to Bismarck. Others again prattled of

Destiny; but the best comment on the death of Skobeleff would seem to be

that illuminating saying of Novalis--"Character is Destiny." Love of

fame prompted in him the desire one day to measure swords with Lord

Roberts in the Punjab; but the coarser strain in his nature dragged him

to earth at the age of thirty-nine.

The accession of Alexander III., after the murder of his father on March

13, 1881, promised for a short time to usher in a more peaceful policy;

but, in truth, the last important diplomatic assurance of the reign of

Alexander II. was that given by the Minister M. de Giers, to Lord

Dufferin, as to Russia's resolve not to occupy Merv. "Not only do we not

want to go there, but, happily, there is nothing which can require us to

go there."

In spite of a similar assurance given on April 5 to the Russian

ambassador in London, both the need and the desire soon sprang into

existence. Muscovite agents made their way to the fruitful oasis of

Merv; and a daring soldier, Alikhanoff, in the guise of a merchant's

clerk, proceeded thither early in 1882, skilfully distributed money to

work up a Russian party, and secretly sketched a plan of the fortress.

Many chiefs and traders opposed Russia bitterly, for our brilliant and

adventurous countryman, O'Donovan, while captive there, sought to open

their eyes to the coming danger. But England's influence had fallen to

zero since Skobeleff's victory and her own withdrawal from

Candahar[337].

[Footnote 337: C. Marvin, _Merv, the Queen of the World_ (1881); E.

O'Donovan, _The Merv Oasis_, 2 vols. (1882-83), and _Merv_ (1883).]

In 1882 a Russian Engineer officer, Lessar, in the guise of a scientific

explorer, surveyed the route between Merv and Herat, and found that it

presented far fewer difficulties than had been formerly reported to

exist[338]. Finally, in 1884, the Czar's Government sought to revenge

itself for Britain's continued occupation of Egypt by fomenting trouble

near the Afghan border. Alikhanoff then reappeared, not in disguise,

browbeat the hostile chieftains at Merv by threats of a Russian

invasion, and finally induced them to take an oath of allegiance to

Alexander III. (Feb. 12, 1884)[339].

[Footnote 338: See his reports in Parl. Papers, Central Asia, No. 1

(1884), pp. 26, 36, 39, 63, 96, 106.]

[Footnote 339: _Ibid_. p. 119.]

There was, however, some reason for Russia's violation of her repeated

promises respecting Merv. In practical politics the theory of

compensation has long gained an assured footing; and, seeing that

Britain had occupied Egypt partly as the mandatory of Europe, and now

refused to evacuate that land, the Russian Government had a good excuse

for retaliation. As has happened at every time of tension between the

two Empires since 1855, the Czar chose to embarrass the Island Power by

pushing on towards India. As a matter of fact, the greater the pressure

that Russia brought to bear on the Afghan frontier, the greater became

the determination of England not to withdraw from Egypt. Hence, in the

years 1882-4, both Powers plunged more deeply into that "vicious circle"

in which the policy of the Crimean War had enclosed them, and from which

they have never freed themselves.

The fact is deplorable. It has produced endless friction and has

strained the resources of two great Empires; but the allegation of

Russian perfidy in the Merv affair may be left to those who look at

facts solely from the insular standpoint. In the eyes of patriotic

Russians England was the offender, first by opposing Muscovite policy

tooth and nail in the Balkans, secondly by seizing Egypt, and thirdly by

refusing to withdraw from that commanding position. The important fact

to notice is that after each of these provocations Russia sought her

revenge on that flank of the British Empire to which she was guided by

her own sure instincts and by the shrieks of insular Cassandras. By

moving a few sotnias of Cossacks towards Herat she compelled her rival

to spend a hundredfold as much in military preparations in India.

It is undeniable that Russia's persistent breach of her promises in

Asiatic affairs exasperated public opinion, and brought the two Empires

to the verge of war. Conduct of that description baffles the resources

of diplomacy, which are designed to arrange disputes. Unfortunately,

British foreign affairs were in the hands of Lord Granville, whose

gentle reproaches only awakened contempt at St. Petersburg. The recent

withdrawal of Lord Dufferin from St. Petersburg to Constantinople, on

the plea of ill-health, was also a misfortune; but his appointment to

the Viceroyalty of India (September 1884) placed at Calcutta a

Governor-General superior to Lord Ripon in diplomatic experience.

There was every need for the exercise of ability and firmness both at

Westminster and Calcutta. The climax in Russia's policy of lance-pricks

was reached in the following year; and it has been assumed, apparently

on good authority, that the understanding arrived at by the three

Emperors in their meeting at Skiernewice (September 1884) implied a

tacit encouragement of Russia's designs in Central Asia, however much

they were curbed in the Balkan Peninsula. This was certainly the aim of

Bismarck, and that he knew a good deal about Russian movements is clear

from his words to Busch on November 24, 1884: "Just keep a sharp

look-out on the news from Afghanistan. Something will happen there

soon[340]."

[Footnote 340: _Bismarck: Some Secret Pages of his History_, vol. iii.

pp. 124, 133 (Eng. ed.).]

This was clearly more than a surmise. At that time an Anglo-Russian

Boundary Commission was appointed to settle the many vexed questions

concerning the delimitation of the Russo-Afghan boundary. General Sir

Peter Lumsden proceeded to Sarrakhs, expecting there to meet the Russian

Commissioners by appointment in the middle of October 1884. On various

pretexts the work of the Commission was postponed in accordance with

advices sent from St. Petersburg. The aim of this dilatory policy soon

became evident. That was the time when (as will appear in Chapter XVI.)

the British expedition was slowly working its way towards Khartum in the

effort to unravel the web of fate then closing in on the gallant Gordon.

The news of his doom reached England on February 5, 1885. Then it was

that Russia unmasked her designs. They included the appropriation of the

town and district of Panjdeh, which she herself had previously

acknowledged to be in Afghan territory. In vain did Lord Granville

protest; in vain did he put forward proposals which conceded very much

to the Czar, but less than his Ministers determined to have. All that he

could obtain was a promise that the Russians would not advance further

during the negotiations.

On March 13, Mr. Gladstone officially announced that an agreement to

this effect had been arrived at with Russia. The Foreign Minister at St.

Petersburg, M. de Giers, on March 16 assured our ambassador, Sir Edward

Thornton, that that statement was correct. On March 26, however, the

light troops of General Komaroff advanced beyond the line of demarcation

previously agreed on, and on the following day pushed past the Afghan

force holding positions in front of Panjdeh. The Afghans refused to be

drawn into a fight, but held their ground; thereupon, on March 29,

Komaroff sent them an ultimatum ordering them to withdraw beyond

Panjdeh. A British staff-officer requested him to reconsider and recall

this demand, but he himself was waived aside. Finally, on March 30,

Komaroff attacked the Afghan position, and drove out the defenders with

the loss of 900 men. The survivors fell back on Herat, General Lumsden

and his escort retired in the same direction, and Russia took possession

of the coveted prize[341].

[Footnote 341: See Parl. Papers, Central Asia, No. 1 (1885), for General

Lumsden's refutation of Komaroff's misstatements; also for the general

accounts, _ibid_. No. 5 (1885), pp. 1-7.]

The news of this outrage reached England on April 7, and sent a thrill

of indignation through the breasts of the most peaceful. Twenty days

later Mr. Gladstone proposed to Parliament to vote the sum of

£11,000,000 for war preparations. Of this sum all but £4,500,000 (needed

for the Sudan) was devoted to military and naval preparations against

Russia; and we have the authority of Mr. John Morley for saying that

this vote was supported by Liberals "with much more than a mechanical

loyalty[342]." Russia had achieved the impossible; she had united

Liberals of all shades of thought against her, and the joke about

"Mervousness" was heard no more.

[Footnote 342: J. Morley, _Life of Gladstone_, vol. iii. p. 184.]

Nevertheless the firmness of the Government resembled that of Bob

Acres: it soon oozed away. Ministers deferred to the Czar's angry

declaration that he would allow no inquiry into the action of General

Komaroff. This alone was a most mischievous precedent, as it tended to

inflate Russian officers with the belief that they could safely set at

defiance the rules of international law. Still worse were the signs of

favour showered on the violator of a truce by the sovereign who gained

the reputation of being the upholder of peace. From all that is known

semi-officially with respect to the acute crisis of the spring of 1885,

it would appear that peace was due solely to the tact of Sir Robert

Morier, our ambassador at St. Petersburg, and to the complaisance of the

Gladstone Cabinet.

Certainly this quality carried Ministers very far on the path of

concession. When negotiations were resumed, the British Government

belied its former promises of firmness in a matter that closely

concerned our ally, and surrendered Panjdeh to Russia, but on the

understanding that the Zulfikar Pass should be retained by the Afghans.

It should be stated, however, that Abdur Rahman had already assured Lord

Dufferin, during interviews which they had at Rawal Pindi early in

April, of his readiness to give up Panjdeh if he could retain that pass

and its approaches. The Russian Government conceded this point; but

their negotiators then set to work to secure possession of heights

dominating the pass. It seemed that Lord Granville was open to

conviction even on this point.

Such was the state of affairs when, on June 9, 1885, Mr. Gladstone's

Ministry resigned owing to a defeat on a budget question. The accession

of Lord Salisbury to power after a brief interval helped to clear up

these disputes. The crisis in Bulgaria of September 1885 (see Chapter

X.) also served to distract the Russian Government, the Czar's chief

pre-occupation now being to have his revenge on Prince Alexander of

Battenberg. Consequently the two Powers came to a compromise about the

Zulfikar Pass[343]. There still remained several questions outstanding,

and only after long and arduous surveys, not unmixed with disputes, was

the present boundary agreed on in a Protocol signed on July 22, 1887. We

may here refer to a prophecy made by one of Bismarck's _confidantes_,

Bucher, at the close of May 1885: "I believe the [Afghan] matter will

come up again in about five years, when the [Russian] railways are

finished[344]."

[Footnote 343: Parl. Papers, Central Asia, No. 4 (1885), pp. 41-72.]

[Footnote 344: _Bismarck: Some Secret Pages,_ etc., vol. iii. p. 135.]

* * * * *

Thus it was that Russia secured her hold on districts dangerously near

to Herat. Her methods at Panjdeh can only be described as a deliberate

outrage on international law. It is clear that Alexander III. and his

officials cared nothing for the public opinion of Europe, and that they

pushed on their claims by means which appealed with overpowering force

to the dominant motive of orientals--fear. But their action was based on

another consideration. Relying on Mr. Gladstone's well-known love of

peace, they sought to degrade the British Government in the eyes of the

Asiatic peoples. In some measure they succeeded. The prestige of Britain

thenceforth paled before that of the Czar; and the ease and decisiveness

of the Russian conquests, contrasting with the fitful advances and

speedy withdrawals of British troops, spread the feeling in Central Asia

that the future belonged to Russia.

Fortunately, this was not the light in which Abdur Rahman viewed the

incident. He was not the man to yield to intimidation. That "strange,

strong creature," as Lord Dufferin called him, "showed less emotion than

might have been expected," but his resentment against Russia was none

the less keen[345]. Her pressure only served to drive him to closer

union with Great Britain. Clearly the Russians misunderstood Abdur

Rahman. Their miscalculation was equally great as regards the character

of the Afghans and the conditions of life among those mountain clans.

Russian officers and administrators, after pushing their way easily

through the loose rubble of tribes that make up Turkestan, did not

realise that they had to deal with very different men in Afghanistan. To

ride roughshod over tribes who live in the desert and have no natural

rallying-point may be very effective; but that policy is risky when

applied to tribes who cling to their mountains.

[Footnote 345: In his _Life_ (vol. i, pp. 244-246) he also greatly

blames British policy.]

The analogy of Afghanistan to Switzerland may again serve to illustrate

the difference between mountaineers and plain-dwellers. It was only when

the Hapsburgs or the French threatened the Swiss that they formed any

effective union for the defence of the Fatherland. Always at variance in

time of peace, the cantons never united save under the stress of a

common danger. The greater the pressure from without, the closer was the

union. That truth has been illustrated several times from the age of the

legendary Tell down to the glorious efforts of 1798. In a word, the

selfsame mountaineers who live disunited in time of peace, come together

and act closely together in war, or under threat of war.

Accordingly, the action of England in retiring from Candahar,

contrasting as it did with Russia's action at Panjdeh, marked out the

line of true policy for Abdur Rahman. Thenceforth he and his tribesmen

saw more clearly than ever that Russia was the foe; and it is noteworthy

that under the shadow of the northern peril there has grown up among

those turbulent clans a sense of unity never known before. Unconsciously

Russia has been playing the part of a Napoleon I.; she has ground

together some at least of the peoples of Central Asia with a

thoroughness which may lead to unexpected results if ever events favour

a general rising against the conqueror.

Amidst all his seeming vacillations of policy, Abdur Rahman was governed

by the thought of keeping England, and still more Russia, from his land.

He absolutely refused to allow railways and telegraphs to enter his

territories; for, as he said: "Where Europeans build railways, their

armies quickly follow. My neighbours have all been swallowed up in this

manner. I have no wish to suffer their fate."

His judgment was sound. Skobeleff conquered the Tekkes by his railway;

and the acquisition of Merv and Panjdeh was really the outcome of the

new trans-Caspian line, which, as Lord Curzon has pointed out,

completely changed the problem of the defence of India. Formerly the

natural line of advance for Russia was from Orenburg to Tashkend and the

upper Oxus; and even now that railway would enable her to make a

powerful diversion against Northern Afghanistan[346]. But the route from

Krasnovodsk on the Caspian to Merv and Kushk presents a shorter and far

easier route, leading, moreover, to the open side of Afghanistan, Herat,

and Candahar. Recent experiments have shown that a division of troops

can be sent in eight days from Moscow to Kushk within a short distance

of the Afghan frontier. In a word, Russia can operate against

Afghanistan by a line (or rather by two lines) far shorter and easier

than any which Great Britain can use for its defence[347].

[Footnote 346: See Col. A. Durand's _The Making of a Frontier_ (1899),

pp. 41-43.]

[Footnote 347: Colquhoun, _Russia against India_, p. 170. Lord Curzon in

1894 went over much of the ground between Sarrakhs and Candahar and

found it quite easy for an army (except in food supply).]

It is therefore of the utmost importance to prevent her pushing on her

railways into that country. This is the consideration which inspired Mr.

Balfour's noteworthy declaration of May 11, 1905, in the House of

Commons:--

As transport is the great difficulty of an invading army, we

must not allow anything to be done which would facilitate

transport. It ought in my opinion to be considered as an act

of direct aggression upon this country that any attempt

should be made to build a railway, in connection with the

Russian strategic railways, within the territory of

Afghanistan.

It is fairly certain that the present Ameer, Habibulla, who succeeded

his father in 1901, holds those views. This doubtless was the reason

why, early in 1905, he took the unprecedented step of _inviting_ the

Indian Government to send a Mission to Cabul. In view of the increase of

Russia's railways in Central Asia there was more need than ever of

coming to a secret understanding with a view to defence against

that Power.

Finally, we may note that Great Britain has done very much to make up

for her natural defects of position. The Panjdeh affair having relegated

the policy of "masterly inactivity" to the limbo of benevolent

futilities, the materials for the Quetta railway, which had been in

large part sent back to Bombay in the year 1881, were now brought back

again; and an alternative route was made to Quetta. The urgent need of

checkmating French intrigues in Burmah led to the annexation of that

land (November 1885); and the Kurram Valley, commanding Cabul, which the

Gladstone Government had abandoned, was reoccupied. The Quetta district

was annexed to India in 1887 under the title of British Baluchistan. The

year 1891 saw an important work undertaken in advance of Quetta, the

Khojak tunnel being then driven through a range close by the Afghan

frontier, while an entrenched camp was constructed near by for the

storage of arms and supplies. These positions, and the general hold

which Britain keeps over the Baluchee clans, enable the defenders of

India to threaten on the flank any advance by the otherwise practicable

route from Candahar to the Indus.

Certainly there is every need for careful preparations against any such

enterprise. Lord Curzon, writing before Russia's strategic railways were

complete, thought it feasible for Russia speedily to throw 150,000 men

into Afghanistan, feed them there, and send on 90,000 of them against

the Indus[348]. After the optimistic account of the problem of Indian

defence given by Mr. Balfour in the speech above referred to, it is well

to remember that, though Russia cannot invade India until she has

conquered Afghanistan, yet for that preliminary undertaking she has the

advantages of time and position nearly entirely on her side. Further,

the completion of her railways almost up to the Afghan frontier (the

Tashkend railway is about to be pushed on to the north bank of the Oxus,

near Balkh) minimises the difficulties of food supply and transport in

Afghanistan, on which the Prime Minister laid so much stress.

[Footnote 348: _Op. cit._ p. 307. Other authorities differ as to the

practicability of feeding so large a force even in the comparatively

fertile districts of Herat and Candahar.]

It is, however, indisputable that the security of India has been greatly

enhanced by the steady pushing on of that "Forward Policy," which all

friends of peace used to decry. The Ameer, Abdur Rahman, irritated by

the making of the Khojak tunnel, was soothed by Sir Mortimer Durand's

Mission in 1893; and in return for an increase of subsidy and other

advantages, he agreed that the tribes of the debatable borderland--the

Waziris, Afridis, and those of the Swat and Chitral valleys--should be

under the control of the Viceroy. Russia showed her annoyance at this

Mission by seeking to seize an Afghan town, Murghab; but the Ameer's

troops beat them off[349]. Lord Lansdowne claimed that this right of

permanently controlling very troublesome tribes would end the days of

futile "punitive expeditions." In the main he was right. The peace and

security of the frontier depend on the tact with which some few scores

of officers carry on difficult work of which no one ever hears[350].

[Footnote 349: _Life of Abdur Rahman,_ vol. i. p. 287.]

[Footnote 350: For this work see _The Life of Sir R. Sandeman_; Sir R.

Warburton, _Eighteen Years in the Khyber_; Durand, _op. cit._; Bruce,

_The Forward Policy and its Results_; Sir James Willcock's _From Cabul

to Kumassi_; S.S. Thorburn, _The Punjab in Peace and War_.]

In nearly all cases they have succeeded in their heroic toil. But the

work of pacification was disturbed in the year 1895 by a rising in the

Chitral Valley, which cut off in Chitral Fort a small force of Sikhs and

loyal Kashmir troops with their British officers. Relieving columns from

the Swat Valley and Gilgit cut their way through swarms of hillmen and

relieved the little garrison after a harassing leaguer of forty-five

days[351]. The annoyance evinced by Russian officers at the success of

the expedition and the retention of the whole of the Chitral district

(as large as Wales) prompts the conjecture that they had not been

strangers to the original outbreak. In this year Russia and England

delimited their boundaries in the Pamirs.

[Footnote 351: _The Relief of Chitral_, by Captains G.J. and F.E.

Younghusband (1895).]

The year 1897 saw all the hill tribes west and south of Peshawur rise

against the British Raj. Moslem fanaticism, kindled by the Sultan's

victories over the Greeks, is said to have brought about the explosion,

though critics of the Calcutta Government ascribe it to official

folly[352]. With truly Roman solidity the British Government quelled the

risings, the capture of the heights of Dargai by the "gay Gordons"

showing the sturdy hillmen that they were no match for our best troops.

Since then the "Forward Policy" has amply justified itself, thousands of

fine troops being recruited from tribes which were recently daring

marauders, ready for a dash into the plains of the Punjab at the bidding

of any would-be disturber of the peace of India. In this case, then,

Britain has transformed a troublesome border fringe into a

protective girdle.

[Footnote 352: See _The Punjab in Peace and War_, by S.S. Thorburn, _ad

fin._]

* * * * *

Whether the Russian Government intends in the future to invade India is

a question which time alone can answer. Viewing her Central Asian policy

from the time of the Crimean War, the student must admit that it bears

distinct traces of such a design. Her advance has always been most

conspicuous in the years succeeding any rebuff dealt by Great Britain,

as happened after that war, and still more, after the Berlin Congress.

At first, the theory that a civilised Power must swallow up restless

raiding neighbours could be cited in explanation of such progress; but

such a defence utterly fails to account for the cynical aggression at

Panjdeh and the favour shown by the Czar to the general who violated a

truce. Equally does it fail to explain the pushing on of strategic

railways since the time of the conclusion of the Anglo-Japanese Treaty

of 1902. Possibly Russia intends only to exert upon that Achilles heel

of the British Empire the terrible but nominally pacific pressure which

she brings to bear on the open frontiers of Germany and Austria; and

the constant discussion by her officers of plans of invasion of India

may be wholly unofficial. At the same time we must remember that the

idea has long been a favourite one with the Russian bureaucracy; and the

example of the years 1877-81 shows that that class is ready and eager to

wipe out by a campaign in Central Asia the memory of a war barren of

fame and booty. But that again depends on more general questions,

especially those of finance (now a very serious question for Russia,

seeing that she has drained Paris and Berlin of all possible loans) and

of alliance with some Great Power, or Powers, anxious to effect the

overthrow of Great Britain.

If Great Britain be not enervated by luxury; if she be not led astray

from the paths of true policy by windy talk about "splendid isolation";

if also she can retain the loyal support of the various peoples of

India,--she may face the contingency of such an invasion with firmness

and equanimity. That it will come is the opinion of very many

authorities of high standing. A native gentleman of high official rank,

who brings forward new evidence on the subject, has recently declared it

to be "inevitable[353]." Such, too, is the belief of the greatest

authority on Indian warfare. Lord Roberts closes his Autobiography by

affirming that an invasion is "inevitable in the end. We have done much,

and may do still more to delay it; but when that struggle comes, it will

be incumbent upon us, both for political and military reasons, to make

use of all the troops and war material that the Native States can place

at our disposal."

[Footnote 353: See _The Nineteenth Century and After_ for May 1905.]

POSTSCRIPT

On May 22, 1905, the _Times_ published particulars concerning the

Anglo-Afghan Treaty recently signed at Cabul. It renewed the compact

made with the late Ameer, whereby he agreed to have no relations with

any foreign Power except Great Britain, the latter agreeing to defend

him against foreign aggression. The subsidy of £120,000 a year is to be

continued, but the present Ameer, Habibulla, henceforth receives a title

equivalent to "King" and is styled "His Majesty."

CHAPTER XV

BRITAIN IN EGYPT

It will be well to begin the story of the expansion of the nations of

Europe in Africa by a brief statement of the events which brought

Britain to her present position in Egypt. As we have seen, the French

conquest of Tunis, occurring a year earlier, formed the first of the

many expeditions which inaugurated "the partition of Africa"--a topic

which, as regards the west, centre, and south of that continent, will

engage our attention subsequently. In this chapter and the following it

will be convenient to bring together the facts concerning the valley of

the Nile, a district which up to a recent time has had only a slight

connection with the other parts of that mighty continent. In his quaint

account of that mysterious land, Herodotus always spoke of it as

distinct from Libya; and this aloofness has characterised Lower Egypt

almost down to the present age, when the events which we are about to

consider brought it into close touch with the equatorial regions.

The story of the infiltration of British influence into Egypt is one of

the most curious in all history. To this day, despite the recent

agreement with France (1904), the position of England in the valley of

the Lower Nile is irregular, in view of the undeniable fact that the

Sultan is still the suzerain of that land. What is even stranger, it

results from the gradual control which the purse-holder has imposed on

the borrower. The power that holds the purse-strings counts for much in

the political world, as also elsewhere. Both in national and domestic

affairs it ensures, in the last instance, the control of the earning

department over the spending department. It is the _ultima ratio_ of

Parliaments and husbands.

In order fully to understand the relations of Egypt to Turkey and to the

purse-holders of the West, we must glance back at the salient events in

her history for the past century. The first event that brought the land

of the Pharaohs into the arena of European politics was the conquest by

Bonaparte in 1798. He meant to make Egypt a flourishing colony, to have

the Suez Canal cut, and to use Alexandria and Suez as bases of action

against the British possessions in India. This daring design was foiled

by Nelson's victory at the Nile, and by the Abercromby-Hutchinson

expedition of 1801, which compelled the surrender of the French army

left by Bonaparte in Egypt. The three years of French occupation had no

great political results except the awakening of British statesmanship to

a sense of the value of Egypt for the safeguarding of India. They also

served to weaken the power of the Mamelukes, a Circassian military caste

which had reduced the Sultan's authority over Egypt to a mere shadow.

The ruin of this warlike cavalry was gradually completed by an Albanian

soldier of fortune named Mohammed Ali, who, first in the name of the

Sultan, and later in defiance of his power, gradually won the allegiance

of the different races of Egypt and made himself virtually ruler of the

land. This powerful Pasha conquered the northern part of the Sudan, and

founded Khartum as the southern bulwark of his realm (1823). He seems to

have grasped the important fact that, as Egypt depends absolutely on the

waters poured down by the Nile in its periodic floods, her rulers must

control that river in its upper reaches--an idea also held by the ablest

of the Pharaohs. To secure this control, what place could be so suitable

as Khartum, at the junction of the White and Blue Niles?

Mohammed Ali was able to build up an army and navy, which in 1841 was on

the point of overthrowing Turkish power in Syria, when Great Britain

intervened, and by the capture of Acre compelled the ambitious Pasha to

abandon his northern schemes and own once more the suzerainty of the

Porte. The Sultan, however, acknowledged that the Pashalic of Egypt

should be hereditary in his family. We may remark here that England and

France had nearly come to blows over the Syrian question of that year;

but, thanks to the firm demeanour of Lord Palmerston, their rivalry

ended, as in 1801, in the triumph of British influence and the assertion

of the nominal ascendancy of the Sultan in Egypt. Mohammed was to pay

his lord £363,000 a year. He died in 1849.

No great event took place during the rule of the next Pashas, or

Khedives as they were now termed, Abbas I. (1849-54), and Said

(1854-63), except that M. de Lesseps, a French engineer, gained the

consent of Said in 1856 to the cutting of a ship canal, the northern

entrance to which bears the name of that Khedive. Owing to the rivalry

of Britain and France over the canal it was not finished until 1869,

during the rule of Ismail (1863-79). We may note here that, as the

concession was granted to the Suez Canal Company only for ninety-nine

years, the canal will become the property of the Egyptian Government in

the year 1968.

The opening of the canal placed Egypt once more on one of the greatest

highways of the world's commerce, and promised to bring endless wealth

to her ports. That hope has not been fulfilled. The profits have gone

almost entirely to the foreign investors, and a certain amount of trade

has been withdrawn from the Egyptian railways. Sir John Stokes, speaking

in 1887, said he found in Egypt a prevalent impression that the country

had been injured by the canal[354].

[Footnote 354: Quoted by D.A. Cameron, _Egypt in the Nineteenth

Century_, p. 242.]

Certainly Egypt was less prosperous after its opening, but probably

owing to another and mightier event which occurred at the beginning of

Ismail's rule. This was the American Civil War. The blockade of the

Southern States by the federal cruisers cut off from Lancashire and

Northern France the supplies of raw cotton which are the life-blood of

their industries. Cotton went up in price until even the conservative

fellahin of Egypt saw the desirability of growing that strange new

shrub--the first instance on record of a change in their tillage that

came about without compulsion. So great were the profits reaped by

intelligent growers that many fellahin bought Circassian and Abyssinian

wives, and established harems in which jewels, perfumes, silks, and

mirrors were to be found. In a word, Egypt rioted in its new-found

wealth. This may be imagined from the totals of exports, which in three

years rose from £4,500,000 to considerably more than £13,000,000[355].

[Footnote 355: _Egypt and the Egyptian Question_, by Sir D. Mackenzie

Wallace (1883), pp. 318-320.]

But then came the end of the American Civil War. Cotton fell to its

normal price, and ruin stared Egypt in the face. For not only merchants

and fellahin, but also their ruler, had plunged into expenditure, and on

the most lavish scale. Nay! Believing that the Suez Canal would bring

boundless wealth to his land, Ismail persisted in his palace-building

and other forms of oriental extravagance, with the result that in the

first twelve years of his reign, that is, by the year 1875, he had spent

more than £100,000,000 of public money, of which scarcely one-tenth had

been applied to useful ends. The most noteworthy of these last were the

Barrage of the Nile in the upper part of the Delta, an irrigation canal

in Upper Egypt, the Ibrahimiyeh Canal, and the commencement of the Wady

Haifa-Khartum railway. The grandeur of his views may be realised when it

is remembered that he ordered this railway to be made of the same gauge

as those of South Africa, because "it would save trouble in the end."

As to the sudden fall in the price of cotton, his only expedient for

making good the loss was to grow sugar on a great scale, but this was

done so unwisely as to increase the deficits. As a natural consequence,

the Egyptian debt, which at his accession stood at £3,000,000, reached

the extraordinary sum of £89,000,000 in the year 1876, and that, too,

despite the increase of the land tax by one-half. All the means which

oriental ingenuity has devised for the systematic plunder of a people

were now put in force; so that Sir Alfred Milner (now Lord Milner),

after unequalled opportunities of studying the Egyptian Question,

declared: "There is nothing in the financial history of any country,

from the remotest ages to the present time, to equal this carnival of

extravagance and oppression[356]."

[Footnote 356: _England in Egypt_, by Sir Alfred Milner (Lord Milner),

1892, pp. 216-219. (The Egyptian £ is equal to £1:0:6.) I give the

figures as pounds sterling.]

The Khedive himself had to make some sacrifices of a private nature, and

one of these led to an event of international importance. Towards the

close of the year 1875 he decided to sell the 177,000 shares which he

held in the Suez Canal Company. In the first place he offered them

secretly to the French Government for 100,000,000 francs; and the

Foreign Minister, the Duc Decazes, it seems, wished to buy them; but the

Premier, M. Buffet, and other Ministers hesitated, perhaps in view of

the threats of war from Germany, which had alarmed all responsible men.

In any case, France lost her chance[357]. Fortunately for Great Britain,

news of the affair was sent to one of her ablest journalists, Mr.

Frederick Greenwood, who at once begged Lord Derby, then Minister for

Foreign Affairs, to grant him an interview. The result was an urgent

message from Lord Derby to Colonel Staunton, the British envoy in Egypt,

to find out the truth from the Khedive himself. The tidings proved to be

correct, and the Beaconsfield Cabinet at once sanctioned the purchase of

the shares for the sum of close on £4,000,000.

[Footnote 357: _La Question d'Égypte_, by C. de Freycinet (1905), p.

151.]

It is said that the French envoy to Egypt was playing billiards when he

heard of the purchase, and in his rage he broke his cue in half. His

anger was natural, quite apart from financial considerations. In that

respect the purchase has been a brilliant success; for the shares are

now worth more than £30,000,000, and yield an annual return of about a

million sterling; but this monetary gain is as nothing when compared

with the influence which the United Kingdom has gained in the affairs of

a great undertaking whereby M. de Lesseps hoped to assure the ascendancy

of France in Egypt.

The facts of history, it should be noted, lent support to this

contention of "the great Frenchman." The idea of the canal had

originated with Napoleon I., and it was revived with much energy by the

followers of the French philosopher, St. Simon, in the years

1833-37[358]. The project, however, then encountered the opposition of

British statesmen, as it did from the days of Pitt to those of

Palmerston. This was not unnatural; for it promised to bring back to the

ports of the Mediterranean the preponderant share in the eastern trade

which they had enjoyed before the discovery of the route by the Cape of

Good Hope. The political and commercial interests of England were bound

up with the sea route, especially after the Cape was definitively

assigned to her by the Peace of Paris of 1814; but she could not see

with indifference the control by France of a canal which would divert

trade once more to the old overland route. That danger was now averted

by the financial _coup_ just noticed--an affair which may prove to have

been scarcely less important in a political sense than Nelson's victory

at the Nile.

[Footnote 358: _La Question d'Égypte_, by C. de Freycinet, p. 106.]

In truth, the Sea Power has made up for her defects of position as

regards Egypt by four great strokes--the triumph of her great admiral,

the purchase of Ismail's canal shares, the repression of Arabi's revolt,

and Lord Kitchener's victory at Omdurman. The present writer has not

refrained from sharp criticism on British policy in the period

1870-1900; and the Egyptian policy of the Cabinets of Queen Victoria has

been at times open to grave censure; but, on the whole, it has come out

well, thanks to the ability of individuals to supply the qualities of

foresight, initiative, and unswerving persistence, in which Ministers

since the time of Chatham have rarely excelled.

The sale of Ismail's canal shares only served to stave off the

impending crash which would have formed the natural sequel to this new

"South Sea Bubble." All who took part in this carnival of folly ought to

have suffered alike, Ismail and his beys along with the stock-jobbers

and dividend-hunters of London and Paris. In an ordinary case these last

would have lost their money; but in this instance the borrower was weak

and dependent, while the lenders were in a position to stir up two

powerful Governments to action. Nearly the whole of the Egyptian loans

was held in England and France; and in 1876, when Ismail was floating

swiftly down stream to the abyss of bankruptcy, the British and French

bondholders cast about them for means to secure their own safety. They

organised themselves for the protection of their interests. The Khedive

consented to hear the advice of their representatives, Messrs. Goschen

and Joubert; but it was soon clear that he desired merely a comfortable

liquidation and the continuance of his present expenditure.

That year saw the institution of the "Caisse de la Dette," with power to

receive the revenue set aside for the service of the debt, and to

sanction or forbid new loans; and in the month of November 1876 the

commission of bondholders took the form of the "Dual Control." In 1878 a

Commission was appointed with power to examine the whole of the Egyptian

administration. It met with the strongest opposition from the Khedive,

until in the next year means were found to bring about his abdication by

the act of the Sultan (June 26, 1879). His successor was his son Tewfik

(1879-92).

On their side the bondholders had to submit to a reduction of rates of

interest to a uniform rate of 4 per cent on the Unified Debt. Even so,

it was found in the year 1881--a prosperous year--that about half of the

Egyptian revenue, then £9,229,000, had to be diverted to the payment of

that interest[359]. Again, one must remark that such a situation in an

overtaxed country would naturally end in bankruptcy; but this was

prevented by foreign control, which sought to cut down expenditure in

all directions. As a natural result, many industries suffered from the

lack of due support; for even in the silt-beds formed by the Nile (and

they are the real Egypt) there is need of capital to bring about due

results. In brief, the popular discontent gave strength to a movement

which aimed at ousting foreign influences of every kind, not only the

usurers and stock-jobbers that sucked the life-blood of the land, but

even the engineers and bankers who quickened its sluggish circulation.

This movement was styled a national movement; and its abettors raised

that cry of "Egypt for Egyptians," which has had its counterpart

wherever selfish patriots seek to keep all the good things of the land

to themselves. The Egyptian troubles of the year 1882 originated partly

in feelings of this narrow kind, and partly in the jealousies and

strifes of military cliques.

[Footnote 359: _England in Egypt_, etc. p. 222. See there for details as

to the Dual Control; also de Freycinet, _op. cit_. chap. ii., and _The

Expansion of Egypt_, by A. Silva White, chap. vi.]

Sir D. Mackenzie Wallace, after carefully investigating the origin of

the "Arabi movement," came to the conclusion that it was to be found in

the determination of the native Egyptian officers to force their way to

the higher grades of that army, hitherto reserved for Turks or

Circassians. Said and Ismail had favoured the rise of the best soldiers

of the fellahin class (that is, natives), and several of them, on

becoming colonels, aimed at yet higher posts. This aroused bitter

resentment in the dominant Turkish caste, which looked on the fellahin

as born to pay taxes and bear burdens. Under the masterful Ismail these

jealousies were hidden; but the young and inexperienced Tewfik, the

nominee of the rival Western Powers, was unable to bridle the restless

spirits of the army, who looked around them for means to strengthen

their position at the expense of their rivals. These jealousies were

inflamed by the youthful caprice of Tewfik. At first he extended great

favour to Ali Fehmi, an officer of fellah descent, only to withdraw it

owing to the intrigues of a Circassian rival. Ali Fehmi sought for

revenge by forming a cabal with other fellah colonels, among whom a

popular leader soon came to the front. This was Arabi Bey.

Arabi's frame embodied the fine animal qualities of the better class of

fellahin, but to these he added mental gifts of no mean order. After

imbibing the rather narrow education of a devout Moslem, he formed some

acquaintance with western thought, and from it his facile mind selected

a stock of ideas which found ready expression in conversation. His soft

dreamy eyes and fluent speech rarely failed to captivate men of all

classes[360]. His popularity endowed the discontented camarilla with new

vigour, enabling it to focus all the discontented elements, and to

become a movement of almost national import. Yet Arabi was its

spokesman, or figure-head, rather than the actual propelling power. He

seems to have been to a large extent the dupe of schemers who pushed him

on for their own advantage. At any rate it is significant that after his

fall he declared that British supremacy was the one thing needful for

Egypt; and during his old age, passed in Ceylon, he often made similar

statements[361].

[Footnote 360: Sir D.M. Wallace, _Egypt and the Egyptian Question_, p.

67.]

[Footnote 361: Mr. Morley says (_Life of Gladstone_, vol. iii. p. 73)

that Arabi's movement "was in truth national as well as military; it was

anti-European, and above all, it was in its objects anti-Turk."--In view

of the evidence collected by Sir D.M. Wallace, and by Lord Milner

(_England in Egypt_), I venture to question these statements. The

movement clearly was military and anti-Turk in its beginning. Later on

it sought support in the people, and became anti-European and to some

extent national; but to that extent it ceased to be anti-Turk. Besides,

why should the Sultan have encouraged it? How far it genuinely relied on

the populace must for the present remain in doubt; but the evidence

collected by Mr. Broadley, _How We Defended Arabi_ (1884), seems to show

that Arabi and his supporters were inspired by thoroughly patriotic and

enlightened motives.]

The Khedive's Ministers, hearing of the intrigues of the discontented

officers, resolved to arrest their chiefs; but on the secret leaking

out, the offenders turned the tables on the authorities, and with

soldiers at their back demanded the dismissal of the Minister of War and

the redress of their chief grievance--the undue promotion of Turks and

Circassians.

The Khedive felt constrained to yield, and agreed to the appointment of

a Minister of War who was a secret friend of the plotters. They next

ventured on a military demonstration in front of the Khedive's palace,

with a view to extorting the dismissal of the able and energetic Prime

Minister, Riaz Pasha. Again Tewfik yielded, and consented to the

appointment of the weak and indolent Sherif Pasha. To consolidate their

triumph the mutineers now proposed measures which would please the

populace. Chief among them was a plan for instituting a consultative

National Assembly. This would serve as a check on the Dual Control and

on the young Khedive, whom it had placed in his present

ambiguous position.

A Chamber of Notables met in the closing days of 1881, and awakened

great hopes, not only in Egypt, but among all who saw hope in the

feeling of nationality and in a genuine wish for reform among a Moslem

people. What would have happened had the Notables been free to work out

the future of Egypt, it is impossible to say. The fate of the Young

Turkish party and of Midhat's constitution of December 1877 formed by no

means a hopeful augury. In the abstract there is much to be said for the

two chief demands of the Notables--that the Khedive's Ministers should

be responsible to the people's representatives, and that the Dual

Control of Great Britain and France should be limited to the control of

the revenues set apart for the purposes of the Egyptian public debt. The

petitioners, however, ignored the fact that democracy could scarcely be

expected to work successfully in a land where not one man in a hundred

had the least notion what it meant, and, further, that the Western

Powers would not give up their coign of vantage at the bidding of

Notables who really represented little more than the dominant military

party. Besides, the acts of this party stamped it as oriental even while

it masqueraded in the garb of western democracy. Having grasped the

reins of government, the fellahin colonels proceeded to relegate their

Turkish and Circassian rivals to service at Khartum--an ingenious form

of banishment. Against this and other despotic acts the representatives

of Great Britain and France energetically protested, and, seeing that

the Khedive was helpless, they brought up ships of war to make a

demonstration against the _de facto_ governors of Egypt.

It should be noted that these steps were taken by the Gladstone and

Gambetta Cabinets, which were not likely to intervene against a

genuinely democratic movement merely in the interests of British and

French bondholders. On January 7, 1882, the two Cabinets sent a Joint

Note to the Khedive assuring him of their support and of their desire to

remove all grievances, external and internal alike, that threatened the

existing order[362].

[Footnote 362: For Gambetta's despatches see de Freycinet, _op. cit._

pp. 209 _et seq_.]

While, however, the Western Powers sided with the Khedive, the other

European States, including Turkey, began to show signs of impatience and

annoyance at any intervention on their part. Russia saw the chance of

revenge on England for the events of 1878, and Bismarck sought to gain

the favour of the Sultan. As for that potentate, his conduct was as

tortuous as usual. From the outset he gave secret support to Arabi's

party, probably with the view of undermining the Dual Control and the

Khedive's dynasty alike. He doubtless saw that Turkish interests might

ultimately be furthered even by the men who had imprisoned or disgraced

Turkish officers and Ministers.

Possibly the whole question might have been peaceably solved had

Gambetta remained in power; for he was strongly in favour of a joint

Anglo-French intervention in case the disorders continued. The Gladstone

Government at that time demurred to such intervention, and claimed that

it would come more legally from Turkey, or, if this were undesirable,

from all the Powers; but this divergence of view did not prevent the two

Governments from acting together on several matters. Gambetta, however,

fell from power at the end of January 1882, and his far weaker

successor, de Freycinet, having to face a most complex parliamentary

situation in France and the possible hostility of the other Powers, drew

back from the leading position which Gambetta's bolder policy had

accorded to France. The vacillations at Paris tended alike to weaken

Anglo-French action and to encourage the Arabi party and the Sultan. As

matters went from bad to worse in Egypt, the British Foreign Minister,

Lord Granville, proposed on May 24 that the Powers should sanction an

occupation of Egypt by Turkish troops. To this M. de Freycinet demurred,

and, while declaring that France would not send an expedition, proposed

that a European Conference should be held on the Egyptian Question.

The Gladstone Cabinet at once agreed to this, and the Conference met for

a short time at the close of June, but without the participation of

Turkey[363]. For the Sultan, hoping that the divisions of the Powers

would enable him to restore Turkish influence in Egypt, now set his

emissaries to work to arouse there the Moslem fanaticism which he has so

profitably exploited in all parts of his Empire. A Turkish Commission

had been sent to inquire into matters--with the sole result of enriching

the chief commissioner. In brief, thanks to the perplexities and

hesitations of the Western Powers and the ill-humour manifested by

Germany and Russia, Europe was helpless, and the Arabi party felt that

they had the game in their own hands. Bismarck said to his secretary,

Busch, on June 8: "They [the British] set about the affair in an awkward

way, and have got on a wrong track by sending their ironclads to

Alexandria, and now, finding that there is nothing to be done, they want

the rest of Europe to help them out of their difficulty by means of a

Conference[364]."

[Footnote 363: Morley, _Life of Gladstone_, iii. p. 79.]

[Footnote 364: _Bismarck: Some Secret Pages of his History_, vol. iii.

p. 51.]

Already, on May 27, the Egyptian malcontents had ventured on a great

military demonstration against the Khedive, which led to Arabi being

appointed Minister of War. His followers also sought to inflame the

hatred to foreigners for which the greed of Greek and Jewish usurers was

so largely responsible. The results perhaps surpassed the hopes of the

Egyptian nationalists. Moslem fanaticism suddenly flashed into flame.

On the 11th of June a street brawl between a Moslem and a Maltese led to

a fierce rising. The "true believers" attacked the houses of the

Europeans, secured a great quantity of loot, and killed about fifty of

them, including men from the British squadron. The English party that

always calls out for non-intervention made vigorous efforts at that

time, and subsequently, to represent this riot and massacre as a mere

passing event which did not seriously compromise the welfare of Egypt;

but Sir Alfred Milner in his calm and judicial survey of the whole

question states that the fears then entertained by Europeans in Egypt

"so far from being exaggerated, . . . perhaps even fell short of the

danger which was actually impending[365]."

[Footnote 365: _England in Egypt_, p. 16. For details of the massacre

and its preconcerted character, sec Parl. Papers, Egypt, No. 4 (1884).]

The events at Alexandria and Tantah made armed intervention inevitable.

Nothing could be hoped for from Turkey. The Sultan's special envoy,

Dervish Pasha, had arrived in Egypt only a few days before the outbreak;

and after that occurrence Abdul Hamid thought fit to send a decoration

to Arabi. Encouraged by the support of Turkey and by the well-known

jealousies of the Powers, the military party now openly prepared to defy

Europe. They had some grounds for hope. Every one knew that France was

in a very cautious mood, having enough on her hands in Tunis and

Algeria, while her relations to England had rapidly cooled[366].

Germany, Russia, and Austria seemed to be acting together according to

an understanding arrived at by the three Emperors after their meeting at

Danzig in 1881; and Germany had begun that work of favouring the Sultan

which enabled her to supplant British influence at Constantinople.

Accordingly, few persons, least of all Arabi, believed that the

Gladstone Cabinet would dare to act alone and strike a decisive blow.

But they counted wrongly. Gladstone's toleration in regard to foreign

affairs was large-hearted, but it had its limits. He now declared in

Parliament that Arabi had thrown off the mask and was evidently working

to depose the Khedive and oust all Europeans from Egypt; England would

intervene to prevent this--if possible with the authority of Europe,

with the support of France, and the co-operation of Turkey; but, if

necessary, alone[367].

[Footnote 366: For the reasons of de Freycinet's caution, see his work,

ch. iii., especially pp. 236 _et seq_.]

[Footnote 367: See, too, Gladstone's speech of July 25, 1882, in which

he asserted that there was not a shred of evidence to support Arabi's

claim to be the leader of a national party; also, his letter of July 14

to John Bright, quoted by Mr. Morley, _Life of Gladstone_, vol. iii. pp.

84-85. Probably Gladstone was misinformed.]

Even this clear warning was lost on Arabi and his following. Believing

that Britain was too weak, and her Ministry too vacillating, to make

good these threats, they proceeded to arm the populace and strengthen

the forts of Alexandria. Sir Beauchamp Seymour, now at the head of a

strong squadron, reported to London that these works were going on in a

threatening manner, and on July 6 sent a demand to Arabi that the

operations should cease at once. To this Arabi at once acceded.

Nevertheless, the searchlight, when suddenly turned on, showed that work

was going on at night. A report of an Egyptian officer was afterwards

found in one of the forts, in which he complained of the use of the

electric light by the English as distinctly discourteous. It may here be

noted that M. de Freycinet, in his jaundiced survey of British action at

this time, seeks to throw doubt on the resumption of work by Arabi's

men. But Admiral Seymour's reports leave no loophole for doubt. Finally,

on July 10, the admiral demanded, not only the cessation of hostile

preparations, but the surrender of some of the forts into British hands.

The French fleet now left the harbour and steamed for Port Said. Most of

the Europeans of Alexandria had withdrawn to ships provided for them;

and on the morrow, when the last of the twenty-four hours of grace

brought no submission, the British fleet opened fire at 7 A.M.

The ensuing action is of great interest as being one of the very few

cases in modern warfare where ships have successfully encountered modern

forts. The seeming helplessness of the British unarmoured ships before

Cronstadt during the Crimean War, their failure before the forts of

Sevastopol, and the uselessness of the French navy during the war of

1870, had spread the notion that warships could not overpower modern

fortifications. Probably this impression lay at the root of Arabi's

defiance. He had some grounds for confidence. The British fleet

consisted of eight battleships (of which only the _Inflexible_ and

_Alexandra_ were of great fighting power), along with five unarmoured

vessels. The forts mounted 33 rifled muzzle-loading guns, 3 rifled

breech-loaders, and 120 old smooth-bores. The advantage in gun-power lay

with the ships, especially as the sailors were by far the better

marksmen. Yet so great is the superiority of forts over ships that the

engagement lasted five hours or more (7 A.M. till noon) before most of

the forts were silenced more or less completely. Fort Pharos continued

to fire till 4 P.M. On the whole, the Egyptian gunners stood manfully to

their guns. Considering the weight of metal thrown against the forts,

namely, 1741 heavy projectiles and 1457 light, the damage done to them

was not great, only 27 cannon being silenced completely, and 5

temporarily. On the other hand, the ships were hit only 75 times and

lost only 6 killed and 27 wounded. The results show that the

comparatively distant cannonades of to-day, even with great guns, are

far less deadly than the old sea-fights when ships were locked yard-arm

to yard-arm.

[Illustration: BATTLE OF ALEXANDRIA (BOMBARDMENT OF, 1882).]