Chapter II: Part 2

Shikarpoor, on the northern bank of the Indus, had originally formed a part of the great Douranee Empire, handed down by Timour to Zemaun Shah and his brothers, intact as it had been received from the founder, Ahmed. But piece by piece the kingdom had been dismembered through the quarrels and weaknesses of its rulers. Cashmere, and Mooltan, and Peshawur had been won by the Sikhs; Herat had risen to independence; while Shikarpoor with a fair slice of the southern frontier had passed to the Ameers of Sindh. But though Shikarpoor was theirs, they held, or had held it, in consideration only of a yearly tribute, which tribute, unpaid through many years, had now swelled, as Soojah maintained, to no less a sum than twenty lakhs of rupees, a sum gratuitously increased by the English Government to twenty-five lakhs, that the terms of Runjeet Singh (who was to have received half, but had lately increased his wants) might be granted without Soojah being the sufferer. The Ameers themselves, however, told a different tale. Independently of their not unreasonable objections to the validity of a claim that had been suffered to slumber for upwards of thirty years, they were enabled triumphantly, as they supposed, to point to two releases of the debt, written in Korans, and signed and sealed by Soojah. Thus fortified, they declared to Colonel Pottinger, our agent at Hyderabad, that "they were sure the Governor-General did not intend to make them pay again for what they had already bought and obtained, in the most binding way, a receipt in full"--a mark of confidence which Pottinger was instructed to demolish without delay. Nor was this the only difficulty that the passage through Sindh promised to present. In the treaty which had opened the Indus to navigation, it had been expressly stipulated that the river should be free to commerce only, and it became therefore necessary, for the transport of our army, that this treaty should be broken. Pottinger, sorely against his will, was ordered to point out to the Ameers that if they placed any obstacles in the way of the "first and necessary" undertaking on which their English friends had embarked, it would be the painful duty of those friends to take steps to ensure a more ready and hearty co-operation. In other words, the Ameers were told that if they did not do what was wanted of them, they would be turned out to make room for those who would. They must pay the twenty-five lakhs of rupees, the greater part of which would go into the pockets of a man to whom they were indebted not one single anna; they must consent to the violation of the treaty of the Indus, and they must further the advance of our army through their territory in every possible way. If they did not agree to these demands, they would find the consequences disagreeable. It did not at first appear that they were likely to agree. Burnes had, indeed, managed to settle the difficulty of the Indus, and the Ameers of Khyrpore, more tractable than the Hyderabad princes, had agreed temporarily to cede to the British the fortress of Bukkur, the point selected for the passage. Soojah with his levies, who were some days' march in advance of the Bengal column, had already crossed, and was waiting our arrival at Shikarpoor, but for a while it seemed extremely doubtful when we should be able to join him. The Ameers were waxing turbulent. They had grossly insulted Pottinger, and were openly collecting forces for the defence of their capital. It was feared that the "painful duty" would be found necessary, and orders were despatched to Keane (who had landed with the Bombay army at Vikkur in the end of November, but had been temporarily delayed at Tattah for want of carriage) to prepare to co-operate with Cotton against Hyderabad. As the Bombay column moved up the right bank of the river, the Bengal column, against the urgent remonstrances of Macnaghten, moved down the left bank to meet it. Both forces were in the highest spirits. The defences of Hyderabad were known to be weak; its treasures were believed to be immense, and a prospect of unbounded loot danced before the eyes of a soldiery who had almost forgotten what the word meant. At the eleventh hour, however, the enchanting prospect faded. The Ameers consented to our demands; a part of the tribute was paid, and Hyderabad was saved for a time; while, what was then of still more importance, a collision between the military and political authorities was avoided.

On February 20th, 1839, Cotton was at Shikarpoor, and again differences between him and Macnaghten seemed imminent. Soojah had found himself short of carriage, and Macnaghten had asked Cotton to supply him with 1000 camels from his own train. But the General expressed himself strongly to the effect that if Soojah was unable to advance his men, it were far better that Soojah and his men should be left behind than that their wants should be relieved at the expense of the English troops. It was but too apparent, even at that early stage, that the English military officers were inclined to look upon Soojah and his 6000 soldiers as altogether superfluous. He was, indeed, a king who was to be restored to his throne, but until the throne was ready for him it would be better for all parties that he should remain in the background. Macnaghten, keenly alive to the danger of such sentiments, and feeling himself especially bound, both in honour and interest, to uphold the cause of our ally, combated the military policy resolutely. A collision was happily averted by the timely arrival of despatches from the Viceroy, strongly tending to confirm Macnaghten's views; nevertheless, when the English force advanced, three days afterwards, the carriage difficulty had not been solved, and Soojah with his levies remained at Shikarpoor. Keane, who came up with the Bombay army some days later, though little less willing, was more able to help; but the king, who had fondly hoped to head the advance into his own kingdom, was, for the time, compelled to content himself with a second place. Cotton's march through the Bolan Pass to Quettah, though arduous and painful, was unopposed. Many of the camels and other beasts of burden dropped dead on the route from want of water; there was considerable desertion among the camp followers, and some plundering on the part of the Beloochees, but progress was steadily made, and on March 26th the column reached Quettah, "a most miserable mud town, with a small castle on a mound, on which there was a small gun on a ricketty carriage." Here there seemed a fair prospect of sheer starvation. Stores, as well as baggage, had been abandoned among the rugged defiles of the Bolan Pass, and Mehrab Khan, the Beloochee Prince of Khelat, with whom Burnes had concluded a treaty in our favour, either could not, or would not, help. He declared that there was very little grain in his country, and Burnes could not prove that he did not speak truth, while he was bound to allow the Khan's plea that much of the alleged scarcity was owing, though unavoidably owing, to our own presence. He could not, therefore, conscientiously recommend Macnaghten to sanction Cotton's proposal for a movement on Khelat, though convinced in his own mind of our ally's treachery, and when Keane, arriving at Quettah on April 6th, assumed the chief command, it was decided to push on for Candahar with all possible speed. Save for the heat, and the scarcity of water, the advance proceeded uneventfully enough. Our soldiers behaved admirably under circumstances peculiarly trying to Europeans, and experienced by many of them for the first time. George Lawrence (one of the three owners of a name which is a household word throughout India, at that time a captain of the 2nd Bengal Light Cavalry) relates how he saw a trooper of the 16th Lancers pour the contents of a soda-water bottle half full of water, a treasure then worth its weight in gold, down the throat of a native child on the point of perishing from thirst. As the army neared Candahar, Soojah was moved up again to the front, and many of the chiefs and people of Western Afghanistan hastened to his standard. It was known that Kohun Dil Khan had fled, that there was open dissension among the Barukzye brotherhood, and it soon became clear that if a stand was to be made it would be made at a point nearer Cabul. On April 25th, Shah Soojah-ool-Moolk, after more than thirty years of exile, re-entered in bloodless triumph the southern capital of his kingdom.

Till June 27th the army lay at Candahar, waiting the ripening of the crops. So long a period of forced inactivity was distasteful to the troops, while daily the conviction forced itself on the more observant of the officers that the popularity which Soojah had claimed for himself existed only in his own imagination. The Douranee tribes had, indeed, long yearned to shake off the hateful yoke of the Barukzye Sirdars, by whom they had been systematically plundered and oppressed; but they lacked both spirit and strength to make common cause with their promised deliverer, while both their national and religious feelings were alike stirred by the appearance within their gates of the accursed infidels. When the first cravings of curiosity had been gratified, their attitude to their king was one rather of indifference than devotion, and to us one of undisguised if not active enmity. It needed not the warning of Soojah to remind the English that they were no longer in Hindostan. Two young officers, Inverarity, of the 16th Lancers, and Wilmer, were attacked at a short distance from camp; Inverarity was murdered, and his companion escaped with difficulty. The Ghilzyes, a fierce and lawless tribe, the original lords of the soil, alike rejecting British gold and British promises, began, too, to give early promise of the stern opposition that was hereafter to be experienced from them. When, a fortnight after his arrival, Soojah held a grand state reception, scarcely one of his subjects appeared to do homage to their king. A royal salute of 101 guns was fired in his honour; the British troops marched past his throne in imposing array, and Soojah, highly elated, declared that the moral influence of the ceremony would be felt "from Pekin to Constantinople." But in reality, the whole affair, so far as what should have been its most important features were concerned, was a miserable failure. Lawrence relates a significant speech made to him by an Afghan of distinction, whom he fell in with while on reconnoitering service to the front. "What could induce you," said the man, "to squander crores of rupees in coming to a poor rocky country like ours, without wood or water, in order to force upon us an unlucky person as a king, who, the moment you turn your backs, will be upset by Dost Mahomed, our own king?" The order to advance given on June 27th was heard therefore with pleasure by all; and on July 21st the army was encamped before the famous citadel of Ghuznee.

It became soon evident that a serious mistake had been committed. Ghuznee was deservedly considered the strongest fortress in the country, and its defences were the boast of all Afghanistan. Keane had, indeed, been advised to the contrary, but he knew at least that it was garrisoned by about 3000 of the enemy under Hyder Khan, one of the Ameer's sons, while another was reported to be in the neighbourhood with a strong body of horse. Nevertheless, discarding the battering train, which had been tugged up to Candahar with immense labour and expense, he resumed his march with light field-pieces only, and found himself accordingly before a place subsequently described by himself as one "of great strength, both by nature and art," without the means of effecting a breach in its walls.

Our light companies soon cleared the villages and gardens surrounding the fort, not, however, without some loss, and at daybreak on the 22nd Keane and Cotton, with a party of engineers, reconnoitred the place from the heights commanding the eastern face. It was perfectly evident that the field-pieces might for all practical purposes have been left behind with the siege train at Candahar, but treachery was to show us a way in, which we could have found for ourselves only at immense loss. One of the garrison, a Barukzye of rank, nephew to the Ameer himself, had deserted to our camp; the gates, he assured us, had all been built up with the exception of the Cabul gate, and by the Cabul gate therefore it was decided that the entrance should be made. That very night was chosen for the attack. Four English regiments were detailed for service; the 2nd, 13th, and 17th of the Line, and the Company's European Regiment. Colonel Dennie, of the 13th, was to lead the advance, consisting of the light companies of the four regiments, and the main column was placed under Brigadier Sale. Captain Thomson, of the Bengal Engineers, was to superintend the explosion party, with his two subalterns, Durand (afterwards Sir Henry Durand) and Macleod, and Captain Peat, of the Bombay corps. The night was dark and stormy. The light guns were ordered to open fire, to distract the attention of the garrison, while the powder-bags were piled at the gate. The work was done quickly, quietly and well. Durand, according to one account, finding the first application of the port-fire of no effect, was obliged to scrape the hose with his finger-nails; then the powder exploded, and with a mighty crash, heard above the roaring of the guns and the noise of the storm, down, amid a column of black smoke, came huge masses of timber and masonry in dire confusion. In rushed Dennie at the head of the stormers, and after him pressed Sale with the main column. The resistance, though short, was stubborn. The breach was still so narrow that entrance was difficult and slow. Dennie had won his way inside, but between him and Sale a strong party of the garrison had made their way to the gate. The Brigadier himself was cut down, but after a desperate struggle regained his feet, cleaving his opponent to the chin. The supports, under Colonel Croker, pushed forward manfully, and as the day broke the colours of the 13th and 17th Regiments were flung out to the morning breeze on the ramparts of the Afghans' strongest fort. Ghuznee was ours, with a loss of 17 killed and 165 wounded, of whom 18 were officers. The loss of the garrison was never accurately known. Upwards of 500 were buried by our men, and many more were supposed to have fallen beyond the walls under the sabres of our cavalry; 1600 prisoners were taken, and large stores of grain and flour proved a welcome addition to the value of the prize.

With the fall of Ghuznee fell the hopes of Dost Mahomed. Within little more than twenty-four hours the news had reached him, and his brother, Jubbar Khan, was forthwith despatched to the English camp, proffering submission to Soojah, but claiming for his brother the office of Vizier, which had come to be considered a sort of hereditary appanage of the Barukzye clan. The offer was declined, and what Kaye calls the "mockery" of an honourable asylum in the British dominions suggested in its stead. With an indignant refusal the envoy returned to his brother, and Dost Mahomed then resolved on one last attempt. He moved out from the capital, designing to take up his ground at Maidan, a well-chosen spot on the Cabul river. But when he had reached Urgundeh, he saw too clearly that the game was up. Hadji Khan, a man in whom he had placed peculiar reliance, had gone over to the enemy; the Kuzzilbashes were leaving him fast. With the Koran in his hand, he rode among his troops. "You have eaten my salt," he said, "these thirteen years. If, as is too plain, you are resolved to seek a new master, grant me but one favour in requital for that long period of maintenance and kindness--enable me to die with honour. Stand by the brother of Futteh Khan while he executes one last charge against the cavalry of these Feringhee dogs; in that onset he will fall; then go and make your own terms with Shah Soojah." The appeal was in vain. Dismissing all of his followers who were minded to purchase safety by bowing to the new allegiance, he turned his horse's head, and rode towards the Hindoo-Koosh.

A party of horse under the gallant Outram was despatched in hot pursuit. Twelve English officers rode with him, Lawrence among the number, and about 200 of our own men. Had the party been no larger it is probable that it would not have been left to Dost Mahomed to surrender at his own discretion. But in an evil hour it was decided that Hadji Khan with 500 Afghans should be added, and the dilatoriness of our "allies" wholly neutralised the energies of our own men. Hadji, a traitor once, remained a traitor still, and though quick to leave his master in the hour of his misfortunes, he had no intention, with an eye to future contingencies, to commit himself beyond hope of recall. The harder, then, Outram and his troops rode, the slower rode the Khan and his following; every pretext that the ingenious Eastern mind could devise for delay was turned to account, and as the country was wholly unknown to the English leader he could not leave Hadji to his devices and push on alone after the fugitive. His orders were not to continue the chase beyond the Afghan frontier. On August 9th he reached Bamean, to find that his game was but a day's march before him; but that one day's march had sounded the recall. Dost Mahomed was over the frontier, and there was nothing left for Outram but to return, to be laughed at for his "wild-goose chase," and to hear from the Commander-in-chief that "he had not supposed there were thirteen such asses in his whole force!" It is satisfactory, however, to know that the traitor Hadji had this time over-reached himself. Outram reported his conduct on his return; other proofs of his treason were forthcoming; he was arrested by order of the king, and spent the remainder of his life a state prisoner in Hindostan.

So Soojah was once more seated on the throne of Cabul. He had entered the city on August 6th in royal pomp, resplendent with jewels (among which the mighty Koh-i-noor was this time conspicuous by its absence), mounted on a white charger, half smothered in golden trappings; Macnaghten and Burnes, in diplomatic costume, rode with him, and all the chief officers of the English army swelled his train. But there was no popular enthusiasm; there were no loyal cries of welcome. The people flocked to stare at the show, but it was at the white-faced strangers they stared, not at their restored king. Still, the work had been done. The English flag had waved over Candahar and Ghuznee; an English army was encamped before Cabul. The usurpers were in flight, and the "rightful" king had returned again to his own.

According to the original terms of the proclamation, the British troops, their mission accomplished, were at once to withdraw from the country. Soojah himself was anxious to be rid of allies in whose hands he was conscious he was and could be no more than a puppet, and whose presence in the kingdom was a standing testimony to the absence of that loyalty which he had so loudly vaunted. Nothing would have better pleased the English themselves than to have acquiesced in the king's wishes; nothing would have pleased Lord Auckland better than that they should do so. But it could not be. Unprotected by British bayonets the throne of the new king would not have stood for a day, and with it would have fallen the feeble fabric on which the "justice" of the expedition rested. The Simlah manifesto had declared that Soojah's "popularity throughout Afghanistan had been proved to his lordship by the strong and unanimous testimony of the best authorities;" how then could his lordship leave Soojah alone to give the lie to his own manifesto? But though it was expedient that an English force should still, at least for a time, continue at the king's right hand, it was neither expedient, nor, as it was thought, necessary that the entire army should remain. A garrison at Cabul and Candahar, and others at the principal posts on the main roads to Hindostan, Ghuznee and Quettah on the west, and Jellalabad and Ali-Musjid on the east, would be amply sufficient. These could be furnished by a portion of the Bengal army, and the remainder could be withdrawn by way of Jellalabad and the Khyber Pass, while the Bombay column could return _en masse_ through the Bolan Pass. Such was the advice of the Commander-in-chief, and such, as it soon appeared, was the opinion of the Viceroy himself. Before, however, the homeward march began, Wade had brought Prince Timour to his father's court. Wade's share in the expedition, though dwarfed by the more brilliant exploits of Keane, had, notwithstanding the disaffection of the Sikhs (who, after Runjeet Singh's death, had not cared to conceal their dislike of their English allies), been performed with complete success, and had moreover materially assisted the march of the larger force. For a long time Dost Mahomed had regarded the advance through the Khyber with far greater anxiety than that along the Western route, and though his troops had never actually encountered Wade in the field, a considerable detachment had been withdrawn for that purpose from the main army at a very critical moment.

The official order for the departure of the troops appeared on October 2nd. It was at once seen that the first plan had been considerably altered. Nearly the whole of the Bengal division was to remain behind under Cotton, and only a comparatively small detachment was to return home with Keane and the Bombay army. Though Dost Mahomed had fled the kingdom, he was known to be still near at hand, a guest among the fiery and hostile Oosbegs, with whom he might at any rate seriously harass the frontier, if not, indeed, find himself strong enough to hazard an advance upon the capital. A detachment had therefore been sent up in September to the Hindoo-Koosh, and it became necessary to supply their place at Cabul. The 13th, 40th, and 41st were the English regiments that remained. Of these, the first named, with the 35th Bengal Native Infantry and three light field guns, was stationed at Cabul, under Dennie. Jellalabad was garrisoned by the 48th Bengal Native Infantry, the 3rd Bengal Light Cavalry, some Sappers and Miners, three light guns, and a detachment of Skinner's Horse. At Candahar, under Nott, were the 40th and 41st Regiments of the Line, the 42nd and 43rd Regiments of Bengal Native Infantry, a company of the European Bengal Artillery, two regiments of Soojah's Irregular Infantry, one of his Cavalry, and a troop of his Horse Artillery. MacLaren held Ghuznee with the 16th Bengal Native Infantry, some of Skinner's Horse, and certain details of Soojah's levies. At Quettah was a small force composed of Soojah's troops only, while the Kojuck Pass was watched by a body of Afghan horse, under Bosanquet, of the Bengal Infantry. At each of these posts was also stationed a political officer.

Shortly after the departure of Keane with the homeward-bound column, Soojah left the cold of the capital for the milder air of Jellalabad, and with him went Macnaghten, leaving Burnes in charge at Cabul. The winter months were passed in comparative quiet. Macnaghten busied himself with an attempt to win the favour of the turbulent Khyber tribes, and by lavish payments did succeed in lulling them to temporary quiet. There, too, was received news of the fall of Khelat, which had been determined on during the upward march as punishment for Mehrab Khan's treachery, and still more important news from the Bamean of the further flight of Dost Mahomed to the court of the Ameer of Bokhara, where our own envoy Stoddart was then a close prisoner in imminent danger of death. But as a set-off against so much that was good to hear there came from Burnes the disquieting intelligence of the advance of a large Russian force from Orenberg on Khiva, ostensibly to release certain Russian merchants from captivity, and to punish the Khan, not too severely, for general misconduct--a pretext which, it will probably be remembered, was used with great effect on a subsequent occasion. Macnaghten was inclined at first to make light of the news, on which Burnes had, on the contrary, laid the greatest stress; but as rumour grew he consented at last to despatch a mission to the Russian camp. Conolly and Rawlinson were selected--Burnes, when the post was offered to him, having only replied "that he would willingly go if he was ordered"--when, on the eve of their departure, the welcome news arrived that there was no longer a Russian camp for them to visit. Snow, pestilence and famine had done the work that neither Tartar sabres nor English diplomacy would have probably availed to do then, any more than they have availed since, and of Peroffski's 6000 men scarcely a man found his way back to Orenberg.

Towards the end of April the court returned to Cabul. Affairs were far from satisfactory. The unpopularity of the English, and even of Soojah himself, became daily more and more obvious to all observant people. The dual Government was a failure. The English, pledged not to interfere with Soojah, were obliged to permit much of which they strongly disapproved to pass unchallenged, and were only called upon to intervene to pass measures which Soojah himself was not strong enough to enforce. Whenever therefore their presence did make itself conspicuously felt it had the natural result of only increasing their unpopularity. The expense had already been enormous, and showed no signs of decreasing. The wealth and liberality of the English had been a tradition in Afghanistan since the days of Elphinstone, and the Afghans, though they hated the infidel soldiers much, loved the infidel gold still more. Unfortunately, too, the dislike borne to the English by the Afghan men was not shared by the Afghan women, and the passion of jealousy, with but too good cause, was thus added to the passions of distrust and hate. Evil news, too, came from every quarter; from the Bamean frontier on the north, from Herat on the west, from Candahar on the south, from Peshawur on the east. Macnaghten had never ceased importuning the Viceroy to sanction the restoration of Herat and Peshawur to the Afghan dominions. The Sikhs were now open in their declarations of enmity to the English, though they had refrained as yet from any actual hostilities, and Macnaghten, with considerable reason, declared there could be no safety in Afghanistan till, to use his own words, "the road through the Punjab was macadamised." At Herat, too, Yar Mahomed, the Vizier, a man of boundless avarice and treachery, though living on British bounty, was openly intriguing with Persia, and had behaved with such gross and repeated insolence to our Envoy that the latter had at last left his court in disgust. But Lord Auckland, though not insensible to Macnaghten's arguments, did not dare at that time to increase either his responsibilities or his expenses, both of which were already sufficiently heavy. Grave complaints were heard from Candahar, where the old system of taxation that had made the Barukzye rule so irksome was still in force, and still in the hands of the same hated collectors. The Ghilzyes, who had already received severe punishment from Outram, were again in the field, and further still to the south the whole country was in revolt. Khelat had been won back from us by Mehrab Khan's son, and Loveday, the English officer in charge, barbarously murdered. In the far north our outposts had pushed on over the Bamean range, and were in frequent collision with the Oosbegs, and other supporters of the Barukzye cause. It is true that wherever our troops met the enemy in the open field the victory remained with the former, but that such meetings were as frequent as they were showed the angry temper of the country but too plainly to all who had eyes to see and ears to hear. Still the sanguine temperament of Macnaghten refused to recognise the impracticability of the game. Still he persisted in believing in the popularity of Soojal, and in the ultimate settlement of his kingdom, and as a proof of his confidence he about this time sent down to Bengal for his wife, an example which was followed by most of the other married officers.

The news from the north soon became still more alarming. Jubbar Khan was at Khooloom with the Ameer's family, living on the bounty of the Wullee, or chief of that place, who still upheld with fidelity rare for an Afghan the cause of the fugitive king. Other once staunch supporters, however, had "come in," as the phrase went, among them Azim Khan, one of the Ameer's sons, and it was reported that Jubbar himself was vacillating. A forward movement of our troops would, it was believed, soon bring him to his senses. A forward movement was accordingly made and the Khan did "come in." On July 3rd he arrived at Bamean with his brother's family, and a large party of retainers.

But now the Ameer himself was once more in the field. At first a guest in the court of Bokhara, he had afterwards become the prisoner of that treacherous chief, who, had he dared, would have murdered his captive, and his sons with him, as he would have murdered the English Envoy. But Dost Mahomed, who as he said of himself, "was a wooden spoon, to be thrown hither and thither without hurt," contrived in some way to effect his escape, and, after infinite hardships, to make his way to his old ally of Khooloom, who welcomed him with open arms. The Oosbegs gathered to the popular standard. The Ameer was reminded that his wives and children were in our power; "I have no family," was his answer, "I have buried my wives and children," and at the head of 8000 men he advanced on Bamean early in September. Our troops had been compelled to abandon the outposts they had established beyond the frontier. They had never failed indeed to repel the frequent attacks that had been made on them, but it had become at last painfully evident that such isolated posts were no longer tenable. They fell back therefore to Bamean, losing everything on the retreat, and to make matters still worse a regiment of Afghan infantry that had been lately raised went over in a body to the enemy. Meanwhile, however, Dennie had come up with strong reinforcements, and on September 18th a decisive battle was fought. The enemy were immeasurably the stronger both in numbers and position, but the victory was ours, and for the second time Dost Mahomed only escaped death by the speed of his horse. But though he saved his life, he lost a valuable friend. Dennie's guns had a salutary effect on the Wullee, and within a few days of the battle the old man prudently came to terms with the English, pledging himself no longer to harbour or assist Dost Mahomed or any of his family. Great was the delight in the camp at Cabul, where affairs had begun to look very black indeed, and serious apprehensions at one time entertained of an insurrection;--but they had not yet done with the Ameer.

Driven out of the Hindoo Koosh, our gallant enemy next re-appeared in Kohistan, a district only too ripe for revolt. Sale was ordered out to meet him and Burnes went with him, while Wade was despatched from Jellalabad to act against the refractory Wuzzeerees. After a series of small successes, in one of which Edward Conolly, a young cavalry officer of great bravery and promise, was killed, and one repulse at Joolgah, Sale, on November 2nd, met the Ameer at Purwandurrah, in the Nijrow country, a name disastrous among many other disastrous names in the annals of the Afghan war. The latter had no original intention of giving battle, but a chance movement of our horse changed his mind. Lord, one of our political agents, had proposed that our cavalry, the 2nd Bengal Light Cavalry, should take up new ground on the Afghan flank. The order had been given, and the two squadrons, numbering something over two hundred sabres, had already gone "threes about," when Dost Mahomed, seeing, as he supposed, the British in retreat, rode straight down on them at the head of about 400 horsemen. Fraser, who was in command, at once facing his men about, gave the order to charge, and dashed, with his officers behind him, full at the advancing squadrons. Not a trooper followed. At an irresolute walk they met the onset, and scarcely even waiting to cross swords, fled in every direction, leaving their officers to their fate. Of these, two, Crispin and Broadfoot, were instantly cut down; Lord managed to win his way through the sabres, only to fall immediately afterwards by a shot from one of the forts; Fraser, severely wounded, was saved only by the strength and speed of his horse; how the others escaped no man could say. Our infantry managed in a measure to retrieve the fortunes of the day. The Afghans were driven from their position, but their leader once again escaped from out our very grasp. Lawrence has generously tried to find excuses for the conduct of his men (he was not himself with them, for at that time he was acting as assistant agent to Macnaghten), but the fact remains that a native regiment, hitherto famous for its bravery and fidelity, refused to follow its English officers on the field of battle, and fled like sheep before a horde of irregular horsemen not twice their number. Burnes wrote off to Cabul forthwith to announce, perhaps somewhat to magnify, the disaster, and implored Macnaghten to concentrate all our troops at once on the capital, in anticipation, which all then believed to be certain, of the Ameer's instant advance. Far other, however, were at that time the plans of Dost Mahomed. He did, indeed, advance on the capital, but attended only by a single attendant, and within twenty-four hours after his victory he had placed his sword in Macnaghten's hands.

Force would never have driven him to such a step, but he was weary of fighting in a cause which, so far as he then could foresee, could but be hopeless, and he felt that after his brilliant triumph of the previous day he could lay down his arms without disgrace. Macnaghten and the other English officers received him with the utmost courtesy. Nicholson, an officer of great bravery and intelligence, was appointed to take charge of him, but the indignity of a guard was spared him. Soojah refused to see him, on the ground that he should be "unable to show common civility to such a villain." Many, however, who had held persistently aloof from Soojah, came to pay their respects to one whom they still regarded as their lawful ruler; one of them, Shere Mahomed, known as the swiftest mounted messenger in all Afghanistan, exclaiming, as he grasped his chief cordially by the hand, "Ah, Ameer, you have done right at last; why did you delay so long putting an end to all your miseries?" Within a few days the Ameer's son, Afzul Khan, followed his father's example, and on November 13th the two illustrious prisoners set out for India, under the charge of Nicholson and a strong escort of British troops.

As in the previous year the court passed the winter months at Jellalabad. Cotton was already there on his way down to India, "anxious to get away," and only waiting the arrival of his successor, General Elphinstone. Elphinstone was a brave, kindly, and courteous old gentleman; he had seen service in the Peninsular, and bore the Waterloo medal, but he was entirely without experience of Indian warfare; was, moreover, sadly crippled in health, and unfortunately destitute of the very qualities of energy and foresight which were peculiarly necessary to his position. His appointment was made against his own personal inclinations, nor was it precisely clear on what grounds it had been made, save on the grounds that he was a relation of Lord Elphinstone, at that time Governor of Bombay. But he was ordered to assume the command, and, as a soldier, he obeyed his orders. Cotton handed over his charge, and took his leave with these words, "You will have nothing to do here; all is peace." Never was there made a more unfortunate remark.

The winter passed in tolerable quiet, but with the return of spring came back the old troubles. The first symptoms of disquiet appeared again in the neighbourhood of Candahar. Two admirable officers were in charge there, Nott and Rawlinson, the former holding the military, the latter the political command. The irrepressible Ghilzyes were again in revolt, and the Douranees had risen to join them. Soojah was particularly eager to conciliate the latter tribe, and had, when at Candahar, remitted many of the impositions which had rendered the Barukzye rule so odious; but he had also, as has been already said, retained in office the equally odious tax-collectors who had been employed under the latter dynasty, and the Douranees, anticipating complete redress, and probably substantial rewards, were irritated past endurance to find their state no better under their own king than it had been under the usurper. Long ripe for revolt, their disaffection had been secretly fomented by that indefatigable traitor the Herat Vizier, Yar Mahomed, whose intrigues found a willing tool in Aktur Khan, a chief of the Zemindawer country. Rawlinson, anxious to try the effect of conciliatory measures, and believing with Burnes that Afghanistan was not to be settled at the point of the bayonet, despatched his assistant Elliot to confer with the insurgents. The mission was successful for the time; Aktur Khan "came in;" certain concessions were made, and certain honours conferred upon him, in return for which he promised to disband his followers. But the peace, as Rawlinson anticipated, was short-lived. The gallant but imprudent conduct of Lynch, our political agent among the Ghilzye tribes, in storming a small fort near Khelat-i-Ghilzye, to avenge an insult offered him by the garrison, had set that turbulent country in a flame. Wymer was sent out by Nott to settle matters, which he did effectively enough. The Ghilzyes, under a famous leader known as the "Gooroo," fought like madmen, holding our troops in check for five fierce hours; but they gave way at last, and fled, leaving the greater part of their number dead or dying on the field. Aktur Khan, fired by the example, scattered his promises to the winds, and instead of disbanding, collected anew his forces for another struggle. Woodburn, a dashing officer, met him on the banks of the Helmund, and defeated him after a smart engagement, but the British forces were insufficient to follow up the victory, and on reaching Ghiresk Woodburn was compelled to await the arrival of more troops from Candahar. Thence, strongly reinforced, he moved out on August 17th, and after a short but sharp struggle, in which the Janbaz, or Afghan Horse, for once in a way behaved with great gallantry, Aktur Khan fled, completely routed, and for a time again there was peace among the Douranees. The Ghilzyes, too, at the same time had received so severe a repulse from Chambers, that even they were forced to abstain from action for a while, and the dreaded "Gooroo" was at last prevailed on to "come in" to the English camp. On the north-western frontier our troops had been equally successful under Nott and Wymer. Akrum Khan, a close ally of Aktur Khan, was in arms in the Dehrawut country, and would submit neither to promises, threats, nor force. Treachery, however, did its work at last. One of his own countrymen offered to betray him, and by a rapid night march the rebel was seized, and carried down a close prisoner to Candahar. Macnaghten, at times humane almost to a fault, had at length resolved to give a terrible example to these continued disturbers of the public peace. Orders were sent down to Prince Timour, who governed for his father at Candahar, and who would have obeyed any orders emanating from his English allies, and Akrum Khan was blown from a gun. By the end of October, 1841, there at last seemed really a prospect of peace in Western Afghanistan.

Despite the warnings of Rawlinson, who could see farther below the surface than most of his comrades, and who knew well that there was something more than mere discontent at an obnoxious tax lurking in the hearts of the western tribes--despite, too, the shadow of Akbar Khan, Dost Mahomed's favourite son, who was still hovering about our northern frontier--Macnaghten's spirits rose higher than they had ever risen before. Of a temperament peculiarly susceptible to the influence of the hour, he was alternately depressed and exalted beyond reason, as the varying fortunes of our arms favoured or threatened the ultimate success of his plans. After the disaster of Purwandurrah he was convinced that the game was lost; after the discomfiture of the Ghilzyes and the death of Akrum Khan he was equally convinced that the game was won, and in one of his letters, written about this time to a private friend, he boasted that the country was quiet "from Dan to Beersheba." The well-earned reward of his labours had come at last in the shape of the Government of Bombay; within a few weeks he hoped to turn his back on the scene of so many anxieties and so many disappointments, leaving to his successor the legacy of an accomplished task. That successor would of course be Burnes; Burnes, who had a clearer eye for the future than his chief, and who felt in his inmost heart that the end of such a system as had been established in Afghanistan could not be far off, yet who, impatient for Macnaghten's departure, was willing to dare all risks, so that he might at last touch the goal of his ambition. And at this very time, in that serene sky, the cloud was gathering that was to break when least expected, and overwhelm Macnaghten and Burnes and the whole English cause in utter ruin.

Elphinstone, as has been said, was now in command of the British forces. Next in rank to him were Sir Robert Sale, of the 13th Light Infantry, and Brigadier Shelton, who had come up in the spring of the year with his regiment, the 44th of the Line. Soojah's own troops were under Brigadier Anquetil, who had superseded Roberts, much to Macnaghten's satisfaction, for Roberts was too much of an "alarmist" to please the sanguine Envoy. The main body of the garrison lay in the new cantonments. These remarkable works had been erected in the previous year. Situated in low, swampy ground about two miles from the citadel, they were defended only by a low mud rampart and ditch, over which a pony had been ridden for a wager by one of our own officers; they were commanded on every side by hills and villages, while, to make matters still worse, the Commissariat supplies were stored in a small fort without the wall. The authority for this unfortunate arrangement has been the subject of much discussion, into which it would be neither profitable nor pleasant to enter here; but it should not, at least, be forgotten that our engineer officers had always urged most strongly the expediency of posting the troops in the Bala Hissar, or citadel, a strong position on a hill commanding the entire city and suburbs. At first, indeed, this had been done, but the soldiers were soon required to give way to the ladies of Soojah's harem, and it was then deemed necessary, by some person or persons, to build what Kaye aptly calls "the sheep-folds on the plain." Elphinstone, at any rate, was not to blame, whoever was, for the folly had been committed before Elphinstone had assumed the command.

But familiarity, as usual, soon begot security, and in this dangerous position our officers and men soon learned to live as tranquilly and easily as in the strongest fortress in the world, or as in the luxurious quarters they had left in peaceful Hindostan. The time passed pleasantly enough. Lady Macnaghten and Lady Sale had joined their husbands, and nearly all the married officers had followed the example of their chiefs. The climate was fine and bracing, nor was there any lack either of amusement or society. Englishmen carry their sports with them into every quarter of the globe, and the stolid Afghans looked in amazement and admiration on the races, the cricket, and the skating with which the white-faced infidels beguiled the idle days. But there were unfortunately other habits in which some of the English chose to indulge which stirred up in the native heart feelings of a very different nature, habits which have already been briefly touched upon, and which were growing fast into an open and notorious scandal. "There are many," wrote Kaye in 1851, "who can fill in with vivid personality all the melancholy details of this chapter of human weakness, and supply a catalogue of the wrongs which were soon to be so fearfully redressed."

Macnaghten proposed to set his face towards home in November. His last days, as ill-fortune would have it, had been again embittered with revolt, arising from an unpopular measure which he had felt himself obliged to sanction. Our sojourn in Afghanistan had been a fearful drain on the resources of the Indian Government, and the need for economy had been urgently pressed upon Lord Auckland by the authorities at home. Macnaghten, casting about for the means of obeying his chief's instructions, unluckily hit upon the most unfortunate means he could have chosen. He determined to inaugurate a general system of retrenchment in the stipends, or subsidies, paid to the chiefs, and as a beginning, the sum of £3000, which had been yearly paid to the Eastern Ghilzyes to secure our communications with Hindostan, was forthwith stopped. As a natural result they at once flew to arms, occupied the passes on the road to Jellalabad, commenced an organised system of plundering, and entirely cut off the communications it was our greatest interest to keep open. But the Envoy was not very seriously disturbed. Sale's brigade, which was under orders for India, could "thresh the rascals" on its homeward journey, and clear the passes easily enough. Monteith was accordingly sent out with the 35th Native Infantry, a squadron of cavalry, and some guns, and Sale followed with his own regiment, the 13th Light Infantry. The task was not so easy as the Envoy had anticipated. Sale himself was wounded and Wyndham, of the 35th, killed. It was found necessary to despatch more troops before the work could be done. It was done, however, partly by force and partly by diplomacy; the Khoord-Cabul defile was once more cleared; detachments of troops were posted at intervals along the pass, while Sale himself, halting at Gundamuck, put away his ideas of home for a time.

November 1st was the day fixed for Macnaghten's departure. He was not without warnings that for some days past there had existed strong symptoms of disaffection in the city, where the shopkeepers were closing their shutters, and refusing to sell their wares to the English. John Conolly, a relative of the Envoy's, had got an inkling of what was meditated, while Mohun Lal, an interpreter, who had served us faithfully from the time of our first entry into the country, had directly warned Burnes of a conspiracy of which Abdoolah Khan, one of our most uncompromising opponents, was the prime instigator, and in which the chiefs of all the tribes then assembled in Cabul were alike implicated. But Burnes was still under the orders of Macnaghten, and Macnaghten still refused to listen to the "croakers." On that very evening the conspirators met for the last time, and on the morning of the 2nd the city rose in insurrection.

Burnes himself was the first victim. His house was within the city walls, next to that of Captain Johnson, the paymaster of Soojah's troops. On the previous night Johnson had slept in the cantonments, but Burnes was at home, and with him his brother Charles, and William Broadfoot, an able officer, who had been selected by the expectant Envoy for the post of military secretary. Before daybreak he had again been warned of his danger by a friendly native, and at a later hour came Osman Khan, the Vizier himself, with the same tale, imploring him to seek safety either in the citadel or the cantonments. Burnes could no longer disbelieve, for already an angry crowd was gathering under his windows, and angry voices were raised in clamour for the lives of the Englishmen. He consented to write to the Envoy for aid, and to send messengers to Abdoolah Khan, promising him that if he would restrain the citizens his grievances should receive prompt redress. Why no immediate answer was returned to the first of these messages has never been made perfectly clear; the latter resulted only in the death of the messenger. Meanwhile Burnes himself was haranguing the mob from an upper gallery, while his brother and the guard were firing on them from below. In vain he appealed to their avarice; the only answer was that he should "come down into the garden." A Cashmerian, who had found his way into the house, swore to pass him and his brother out in safety to the cantonments, if the latter would bid the firing cease. Hastily disguising themselves, the brothers followed the man to the door, but scarcely had they set foot beyond it, when the traitor shouted with a loud voice, "This is Sekunder Burnes!" In a moment the mob were on them, and, hacked to pieces by the cruel Afghan knives, then fell the first, but not the last victims of a long series of mistakes.

The paymaster's house was next sacked; upwards of £17,000 of the public money and £1000 of Johnson's private fortune fell to the share of the murderers. No force came from the cantonments to check them, and the only effort made in the early part of the day was made by Soojah himself, who sent one of his own regiments down from the Bala Hissar into the city. Entangled in a network of narrow lanes and bazaars, they could do no good, and Shelton, coming up later with a small body of infantry and artillery, was in time only to cover a disorderly flight. It is difficult to decide on the true cause of the lateness of Shelton's arrival, but it is certain that had Burnes's message received prompt attention, the insurrection, for that time at least, would have been nipped in the bud. That such was the opinion of the Afghans themselves many of our officers were subsequently assured, and the fact that none of the chief conspirators took any part in the first outbreak seems to give colour to the supposition that it was not the original design to proceed to such extremities as followed, but rather to convey to the British such a warning as might convince them of the hopelessness of their cause, and induce them at last to take measures to leave the country to its own devices. Be this, however, as it may, nothing was done till the time had passed for anything to be of use, and a riot which 300 resolute men could have quelled with ease in the morning, would in the afternoon have taxed, if not defied, the best energies of 3000.