Chapter XXI
An Amnesty issued—Influences affecting the People during the Jehad—Invitation to the Chiefs to visit Sherpur—Leaders exempted from the Amnesty—The Malcontent Chiefs at Ghazni—Durbar of January 9th—Principal Chiefs present—Padshah Khan—Address by Sir Frederick Roberts—Loyal Chiefs rewarded—Arrangements for governing Kohistan—Migration of Hindu Merchants to India—Reasons for the Movement—Mahomed Jan’s Plans—Proposal to Recall Yakub Khan—Reasons for such a Course being impossible—Improvement in the Intelligence Department—News of Abdur Rahman Khan—Additional Fortifications about Cabul and Sherpur.
7th January, 1880.
An amnesty has been issued by General Roberts, dated December 26th, which is so framed that it should convince even the most sceptical tribesmen that we are anxious to conciliate them rather by fair dealing than by force of arms. Only five leaders are exempted from the pardon which is freely offered to all tribes who will send in their representatives to our cantonments. The losses which the Kohistanis and other clans suffered by the jehad were so heavy that the pride of having been able to coop up the British army within Sherpur, must be mixed with a feeling that the temporary victory was dearly bought, and that to repeat it would involve still further loss of life. In the proclamation it is assumed that the mass of ignorant people were misled by the representation of certain “seditious men,” and rose in rebellion against us; and our pardon is granted on the further assumption that this ignorance was generally shared in by the coalition of tribesmen. This is a very lenient view to take of what was really an outburst of religious fanaticism, in which even chiefs who were friendly to us shared; but it is a stroke of policy which may, for a time at least, win over to us most of the leaders of the tribes. Before carrying fire and sword into their villages, we invite them to come in and say what it is they really want, and we guarantee their personal safety, even though they lately stood arrayed against us. This is not the usual treatment accorded to rebels; but it is felt, perhaps, that, with our half-hearted declarations of policy regarding Afghanistan, it would he unwise to punish, with the severity rebellion merits, the people who have given us so much trouble. If we had formally annexed the country, we might certainly punish with death men who rose in arms against our authority; but all we have done is to declare that, at some unknown date, we shall “make known our will as to the future permanent arrangements to be made for the good government of the people.” Where our arms were felt, there our authority was known and respected; but in the districts beyond, our power was only nominal. To refuse to obey it was rebellion only in name, under such circumstances; and, moreover, the abdication of the Amir Yakub Khan was looked upon by his late subjects as rather compulsory than otherwise. The ignorant people, whom we are now so ready to forgive, argued that, if the abdication was voluntary, a successor would instantly have been placed on the throne; whereas time had gone by, and nothing had been done to show that our military occupation of the capital and the districts between Cabul and Peshawur was not to be permanent. An appeal to their loyalty to the Barakzai dynasty, and a further appeal to their hatred of Kaffirs, were quite enough to call them to arms; and they believed themselves strong enough either to drive us pell-mell from Cabul, or to impose terms of their own making. They did not succeed in either; and if we followed their own savage custom, we should kill every man we could lay hands upon who had joined in the attack upon our army. But, instead of these bloodthirsty reprisals, the tribesmen find pursuing them messengers bearing offers of pardon if they will merely visit Sherpur and make their obeisance to the British General. They are not asked to submit to any conditions; their safety is assured; and all that is required of them is that they will frankly say what their opinions are upon the present state of Afghan politics, and what suggestions they have to make to guide us in dealing with the people. Some of the tribal chiefs are either in Sherpur, or on their way thither; and we shall soon have an opportunity of hearing what their wishes—if they have any—really are. But, whatever views are put forward, and whatever points may be yielded by men who are in their hearts most hostile to us, it will not be enough to take shallow promises as trustworthy in the future. With all the cunning astuteness of Afghans, the tribal leaders will come in and will try to outwit us, as they have always tried before. If we accept their promises and leave them to be carried out by themselves, they may be looked upon as a dead letter. Rather would it be better to listen to all that they have to urge in favour of a new order of things: Kohistanis, Wardaks, Logaris, Ghilzais of all sections giving their views freely; and then to dismiss them to their homes, warning them that they must rest peacefully until the will of the British Government is made known to them. Let a fixed date be declared on which that will shall be publicly proclaimed; and whether the decision is that Afghanistan is to be annexed, to be split up into provinces, or left to fall to pieces by internal disorder after our return to India, let it be clearly understood that, so long as a British General remains at Cabul, his orders are the law that is alone to be regarded. These orders, also, must be enforced, when necessary, by our soldiers, and something more must be done than sending some sirdar, alone and unprotected, into tribal districts, to carry out our wishes. The only fear is that the amnesty may be looked upon as a sign of weakness on our part, meaning that we dread another uprising; but if, along with our philanthropic forgiveness, we mix the leaven of military preparations on a large scale, the eyes of the people will be opened to our real resources and the power we have at hand to crush rebellion. It must never occur to us again to be shut up in Sherpur for nine days; such investments are fatal to our prestige, both here and elsewhere. The memorandum of a Military Secretary in India, who can seek to reassure the country by the absurd statement that 2,500 men can garrison a cantonment with over four miles of walls and trenches to man, must not be allowed to weigh against the ugly facts we have had to face. With more than 5,000 men available for duty, the work was so terrible and severe, the constant watch by day and night so trying, that over 800 sick and wounded are now in our hospitals. With these 5,000 we could repulse assaults, but could not move outside to give battle to the enemy who flaunted their standards on Siah Sung Heights, and planted others within 250 yards of our bastions. Never was there a case in which the motto “fore-warned is fore-armed” was more applicable than now: our warning has been a rude one, and has cost us many lives; but it has done this service—that it has shown us how to guard against another such shock. Ten thousand men in Sherpur and the Bala Hissar can laugh at even 50,000 tribesmen; for, with such a force at our disposal, we could always spare 3,000 or 4,000 infantry to fight beyond the walls; and our past experience has shown that we have nothing to fear with brigades of this strength. It is only when we invite attack by weakness that hands-ful of our men are overwhelmed by sheer weight of numbers. If we are to continue in the country, and operations are to be extended in the spring to Ghazni, Charikar, or Balkh, not less than 10,000 men should be garrisoned in and about Cabul by the end of March. Our power now extends just as far as our rifles can shoot; for we can no more rely upon the fidelity of Chiefs who come into Sherpur, than Macnaghten could upon the promises of Akhbar Khan. Every man’s hand would be against us, if we again were encompassed about in these cantonments.
In the meantime, the proclamation of an amnesty has brought in most of the Kohistani chiefs (even those of Istalif and Charikar) and the nearer Lughman maliks. The latter were friendly enough to us before December 14th; but aver that they were forced to join Mahomed Jan, who threatened to harry their villages if they refused to turn out their armed men. The Kohistanis have seen Mir Butcha’s villages and forts destroyed within a week from the dispersion of the investing force; and, true to their old policy, they have come in and are as peaceable as when first they were entertained on Siah Sung. Padshah Khan has suddenly grown very anxious to be on good terms with us again, and his son and uncle are already here. He himself will shortly put in an appearance, and his explanations will be interesting to listen to. He forfeited the subsidy promised to him for the aid he gave us, on our march from Ali Kheyl, by his tribe sharing in the attack upon the Shutargardan; and he is astute enough to know that now he has no claim upon our consideration. When General Roberts has interviewed the chiefs of the various sections, he will be able to comprehend, in its true light, the reason of the late jehad, and what it is that the tribal leaders require. Upon this he may make his calculations for a future campaign if they again prefer an appeal to arms to a peaceful understanding. It must not be forgotten that the five men exempted from the amnesty are still at large, and are supposed to be planning a revival of the jehad; and doubtless every chief who now comes in and accepts the pardon offered to him will make a mental reservation to be guided by the course of events at Ghazni as well as at Cabul. The five leaders are Mahomed Jan; Mushk-i-Alam, of Charkh; Mir Butcha, the Kohistani chief, now said to be at Charikar; Samander Khan, of Logar; and Tahir Khan, son of Mahomed Sharif Khan, the sirdar kept as a prisoner at Dehra Dun. Tahir Khan was for a long time in our camp with his brother, Hashim Khan, and was generally supposed to be a harmless youngster. As he was instrumental in carrying off Musa Jan, and is active in keeping alive the dying jehad at Ghazni, he has suddenly become a personage important enough to be severely punished if he is caught. Mahomed Jan is all-powerful among the Wardak men, the most restless and impetuous clan near Cabul. He would have been their chief upon the death of his father, but that he was a General in the Amir’s service, and could not fulfil both duties. His brother was elected chief, but has since died, and the Wardaks look upon Mahomed Jan as their leader. The malcontents at Ghazni have also been joined by the ex-Governor of Jellalabad. This man, Mahomed Hasan Khan, finding his friend, Asmatullah Khan, with his Lughmanis, was coming to grief at Jugdulluck, doubted him, and, following by-paths through the hills north of Luttabund, reached Deh-i-Sabz in safety. He thought the Safis too weak to stay with, and passed thence through the Koh-Daman over the Surkh Kotal until he gained the Ghazni Road below Argandeh. Once on the southern road, he was safe; and by this time he is probably aiding Mahomed Jan to get together a new army.
9th January.
The policy of conciliation which we have so magnanimously adopted after the ineffectual attempt of the tribesmen to drive us from our cantonments has been declared in open Durbar to-day, to some 200 Sirdars, Chiefs, and maliks. The effect of the amnesty, issued on December 26th, has been in the main so successful, that many Kohistanis, Logaris, and Ghilzais have come into Sherpur and made their peace with Sir F. Roberts—temporarily it may be, for but little reliance is to be placed upon the promises of Afghans; but still openly, and with no seeming reservation. What their course of behaviour may be hereafter, in case the Ghazni malcontents are able to raise a second jehad of importance, we cannot tell; but they have been given clearly to understand that our forbearance does not arise from any fear of our own strength to crush them, but simply because we desire rather to live on peacable terms with the people, than to be continually harrying them for their misdeeds. It is almost too much to ask any tribesman to refrain from joining in a movement which promises him plenty of bloodshed and unlimited loot; but by first thrashing him and then treating him with generous forgiveness, we may convince him that it is more to his interest to be on friendly terms with us than to risk his life and property by setting our arms at defiance. The Durbar to-day was held chiefly for the purpose of presenting such of the Kohistani chiefs as had remained friendly to us with substantial rewards, and of declaring to the others what our present policy is likely to be. The Logari and Ghilzai chiefs had also a chance of observing how we reward our friends, and of being assured that an offer of pardon to such as have chosen to accept it was not an empty promise, merely to entice them into Sherpur.
A large tent was pitched near head-quarters, and in this were assembled the chiefs who were to make their salaam to General Roberts. They were marshalled in due order by Mahomed Hyat Khan, Assistant Political Officer, and knelt down in the fashion in vogue among Orientals when serious business has to be gone through. A little square was left vacant in the middle of the tent, and in this stood four of the 72nd Highlanders with fixed bayonets, the only sentries among the closely-packed Sirdars and maliks, many of whom were fighting against our troops but a few days ago. Sir F. Roberts entered, when all had been duly arranged, and the kneeling figures rose as with one accord, and made obeisance with that courteous humility which seems to convey so much, and yet, in reality, means so little. There was no parade of any kind in the Durbar: General Roberts was attended only by an Aide-de-Camp, Captain Carew, and Major Hastings, Chief Political Officer. His native orderlies were of course at hand in case of a fanatic appearing. The salaaming having come to an end, General Roberts seated himself to receive the Sirdars as they were presented separately by Mahomed Hyat Khan. Sirdar Wali Mahomed Khan was placed on the General’s left hand, and from time to time explained the status and characteristics of the more notable Chiefs. In addition to Wali Mahomed there were many other members of the Barakzai family present, the chief of whom were Sirdars Ibrahim Khan (brother of Shere Ali), Ahmed Ali Jan, Mahomed Hashim Khan, Abdulla Khan, and Mahomed Yusuf Khan. One by one the Chiefs were presented, and the formal ceremony of the Durbar proceeded. Many of the Sirdars, and even some of the tribal chiefs, so far conformed to English custom as to shake hands with the General. It was a picturesque scene; the dense mass of kneeling figures, clad in richly-coloured chogas, or with long-flowing garments shaped like the old Roman toga. The wild and, in many cases, handsome faces of the tribal leaders lighted up with interest and expectation as their fellows stepped out and bowed meekly before the representative of that British Government they had lately fought against. One incident was the presentation of Padshah Khan to General Roberts. As his name was called out, there was something like a titter all round—for even Afghans have a sense of humour, and they could not help appreciating the shamefacedness of this Ghilzai chief, who, after aiding the British to reach Cabul, had striven to drive them out, and had then accepted the forgiveness so freely offered. Padshah Khan came forward in his usual cringing way, and on his sunburnt cheeks just a tinge of colour mounted, the nearest approach to a blush that he could raise. Even General Roberts joined in the general smile which spread from face to face at the evident discomfort of the Chief; while the latter, recovering his self-possession, went back to his place smiling also, as if a great weight had been lifted from his mind. He must wonder at our generosity, and, perhaps, be doubtful as to how far it may extend, in the future; but, so far, he is grateful for our forbearance, as his villages have not shared the fate of those of Mir Butcha. The Logari and Ghilzai Chiefs having salaamed, there were presented en masse some thirty-four Jagri and Besud Hazara Chiefs and maliks. These men have remained true to their promises; and as their country bounds Ghazni on the west, and also marches with the Wardak districts, they are likely to be useful allies. Being of the Shiah sect of Mahomedans, they have nothing in common with the Afghan Sunis, and we shall be able to employ them in harassing Mahomed Jan’s army if that leader collects a force at Ghazni. With a column marching up from Candahar, and our own army moving down the Ghazni Road from Cabul, the insurgents would be held in check westwards by the Hazaras, and their only road for retreat would be eastwards towards Khost and the Shutargardan districts. Saftar Ali Khan, head of the Jagri Hazaras, was unable to attend owing to sickness; but his son, Ahmed Ali Khan, was present to receive the handsome khilluts bestowed upon his father and himself. The presentations being over, Sir Frederick Roberts read the following address to the Kohistanis, which was translated into Persian by Mahomed Hyat Khan:—
“SIRDARS AND MALIKS,
“I am very glad to see that so many of the Kohistan maliks have taken advantage of the amnesty published on the 26th of December last, and have come to Cabul to pay their respects to the British Government, and to express their regrets for having taken a part in the recent disturbances. I trust that those maliks who are still holding aloof, will follow the good example that has been set them, and will soon make their appearance at Cabul. I told you, when you visited me in my camp at Siah Sung, after the arrival of the British troops at Cabul, that the British Government had nothing but goodwill towards the people of Afghanistan; that it is their desire to respect your lives, your property, and your religion, and to molest no one who would live at peace with them. You have had ample proof of the truth of what I told you. At the instigation of ill-advised men you came from your homes in Kohistan to attack the British troops at Sherpur. All that you succeeded in doing was to plunder your own countrymen who live in the city of Cabul. You did the British troops but little injury, and in a few days you were beaten off, and had to return to your homes with the loss of several hundred killed and wounded. You brought this punishment upon yourself, and must not blame the British Government. What that Government did was to offer a pardon to all who would come in—except the malik who, it is believed, was the main cause of your being led astray. It was necessary he should be punished; but, in doing so, every care was taken that no one else should suffer injury. The British troops marched through your country as far as Baba Kuch Kar, treating you all as friends, and paying liberally for everything in the shape of food and forage you were able, or willing, to provide. I hope the lesson will not be lost upon you, and that you will not misunderstand the generosity and forbearance with which you have been treated. It is a great pleasure to me to find that so many of the more intelligent and well-informed of the people of Afghanistan took no part in the recent disturbances. First and foremost I would name Sirdars Wali Mahomed Khan, Ibrahim Khan, Hashim Khan, Abdulla Khan, Mahomed Yusuf Khan, Mahomed Karim Khan, Shahbaz Khan, Ahmed Ali Jan, Mahomed Sirwur Khan, Ataullah Khan, Anitoollah Khan, Habibulla Khan (the Mustaufi), Malik Hamid Khan, and Khan Mahomed Khan. Then several of your own chiefs remained with me throughout. General Faiz Mahomed Khan, the son of Naik Aminulla Khan, of Logar, the family of the Mustaufi Sirdar Habibulla Khan, of Wardak, the Kizilbashes, and many other influential men in the city of Cabul refrained from joining the disturbers of peace and order; and I am glad to have this opportunity of thanking them on the part of the British Government for the good service they thereby performed. I am now about to give khilluts to those Kohistanis who remained at Sherpur with me; after which you are at liberty to return to your homes. I am sending back with you to Kohistan Sirdar Shahbaz Khan, whom you have yourselves asked for as your Governor. He will settle your disputes, and preserve order in the country. Also that I may be fully informed by yourselves of all that passes, and of all that you may wish to represent hereafter, I invite you to select certain of your number who will remain here and act as a medium of communication between us. They will be treated with consideration, and will have free access to me. The rest of you may return to your homes, and for your own sake remember all that has passed.”
Sir Frederick Roberts then presented the khilluts, which consisted of handsome chogas and a certain number of rupees, to the Chiefs who had remained with us, or faithfully kept their promises. Those who had merely come in answer to the amnesty were, of course, not rewarded. Besides the Sirdars mentioned in the speech, who were rewarded for their loyalty to the British Government, there were eleven Kohistani Chiefs, twelve Logaris (including Faiz Mahomed Khan, of Ali Musjid celebrity), and thirty-four Jagri and Besud Hazara Khans and maliks. With the distribution of khilluts the Durbar closed, and the Chiefs were free to depart.
In the meantime, our indecision has re-acted upon a section of the citizens of Cabul, who dread another occupation by tribesmen. The Hindu merchants are beginning to move out with their families and goods, and are taking the road to Peshawur. I have had many chances of learning their feeling from one of their number, an intelligent banker, well versed in local politics. His explanation of the migration is that the Hindus trusted in the British, and looked to them for protection—which was promised. But when the rising took place, the British had enough to do to hold Sherpur, and consequently they were left at the mercy of the rabble about Mahomed Jan. They will not risk a second occupation, being convinced that it will take place, as we have not really received any considerable reinforcements. “Besides,” they add, “no man can say what you will do next, whether you will go back to India, or occupy Cabul for ever. We have waited for you to say what is to happen, and nothing has come of it except loss to ourselves and insult to our women. We will still wait, but this time in Peshawur, where we shall be safe. If the Sirkar takes over Cabul, then we will return.” And so they are taking their departure, and Cabul is losing many of its best citizens; industrious, peace-loving men, whom we cannot easily replace. It is a comment upon our “waiting-upon-Providence” policy which is not at all pleasant. Besides, if these Hindus carry to India the idea that we cannot protect them in Cabul, and spread this report throughout Hindustan, the effect upon the minds of our own subjects east of the Indus may be very serious. Prestige is such a delicate plant in Eastern soil, that it should be carefully guarded. Our military preparations in and about Cabul—the building of strong stone towers on the Bala Hissar Heights and the Asmai Hill, the cutting of military roads to the Cabul gorge, the re-occupation of the Bala Hissar, the clearing of the country about Sherpur of forts and walls—do not convey much to these Hindus. “You want more men if you are to hold Cabul, and keep out your enemy. What are 10,000 to 50,000? There must be 20,000 here to guard Sherpur and the city.” They are men of peace, and their criticism of military matters is weak; but they shrewdly enough ask if, after sickness and wounds, our fighting men are more numerous now than two months ago. It may be a small matter, after all, that these terror-stricken Hindus turn their faces eastwards; but it should be remembered that, all through the troublous times of the Durani dynasty, their forefathers, and they themselves, have remained in Cabul, and they are only leaving the city now, because they do not believe in the power of the British to hold it against another army of 50,000 Afghans.
Our news from Ghazni still shows that there is energy left in Mahomed Jan, and that he has held his own against the Jagri and Besud Hazaras, who have tried to drive him from the neighbourhood. His latest plan to collect a new army is very ingenious. He has placed Musa Jan solemnly before his followers, and made the child repeat after him an oath upon the Koran, by which all true Mahomedans who join in another attack upon Sherpur shall be exempt from taxation for three years. The bait is a tempting one to indigent tribesmen; but some of the more wary may refuse the offer, as they must see how unlikely it is that our army will ever be expelled by force.
There is not much cantonment news. The force has just experienced a heavy loss in the death, from pneumonia, of Dr. Porter, principal medical officer of the division. Dr. Porter was so universal a favourite, both with his own medical officers and with every soldier in the Cabul army of occupation, that his loss is a matter of personal sorrow to all of us. His high professional ability gave him a prominent place in the first rank of army surgeons.
17th January.
The malcontents at Ghazni have at last given us an idea of the terms to which they would be willing to agree: these being nothing short of the recall of Yakub Khan, and his replacement on the throne. It is difficult, in the present state of affairs, to gain accurate news from Ghazni, but from letters which have been received, it would seem that a secret council of chiefs was held at that place a few days ago, and it was decided to send Sir Frederick Roberts a kind of diplomatic message. The purport of this message was that Mahomed Jan and his adherents would fight to the end unless the ex-Amir was instantly sent back from India, and once more given charge of Afghanistan as supreme ruler. Young Tahir Khan is the originator of this new scheme, but it is uncertain how far it is shared in by Mushk-i-Alam. It is pretty certain that the latter was sorely displeased by his jehad being perverted into a raid upon the city of Cabul; and on this point he quarrelled with Mahomed Jan, even before the investment of Sherpur was at an end. This quarrel was partly instrumental in causing the rapid dispersion of the tribal gathering; factions being formed, and discussion running very high. The more fanatical sided with the moollah; while the disorderly element supported Mahomed Jan. The letter conveying the decision of the Ghazni council has duly reached us, and we are rather amused at the coolness of the proposal. The removal of Yakub Khan is in the eyes of many people a very inadequate punishment for his culpable weakness in allowing an Envoy to be slaughtered, and we should be stultifying ourselves if we were even seriously to think of “giving him another chance.” If he were a strong and capable ruler, able to carry out the terms of an alliance with us; a leader who had been captured in opposing our armies, and had been deposed after defeat, there might then enter into our calculations such a possibility as making him Amir once more. In the old war we so far sacrificed our pride as to send back Dost Mahomed to Cabul after he had been deported to India; but Dost Mahomed was a ruler worthy of respect, and a soldier who could keep his unruly subjects fairly well in hand. One can almost imagine that a few fanatics are hugging the belief that, as the Dost was reinstated, so will Yakub Khan be again placed in power; but such a consummation can never occur. It is doubtful whether Mushk-i-Alam has accepted the decision of the council. Our first information was to the effect that the arch-moollah had gone to Ghazni and harangued a large meeting of the malcontents; but it has since been reported that he was not present at the consultation. Mahomed Jan’s movements, too, are difficult to follow. One day he is said to be among his kinsmen at Wardak; the next that he is stirring up the Zurmut people east of Ghazni; and then come all sorts of absurd rumours about his being on the way to Kohistan to see what Mir Butcha is doing.
Our intelligence department is growing at last to be something more than a name. Before the events of the 11th and 23rd December, the only reports that were received as trustworthy were those given by paid spies and followers of the sirdars—followers who are, as a rule, of the purest type of ruffianism. One always looks upon a sirdar as a past-master in the art of deception, who would sacrifice the British at any moment if he could do so with impunity; and the hangers-on of these chiefs are not a whit better than their masters. The action of the 11th in the Chardeh Valley proved to demonstration that no trust could be placed in the reports given by the sirdars: there were found to be 10,000 or 15,000 men within ten miles of Sherpur, whereas we had only heard of 5,000 being at Argandeh. Now there has been established a regular system of patrols, and a certain number of Kizilbash horsemen are stationed at various points on the Argandeh Kotal, Surkh Kotal, the Kohistan Road northwards over the Paen Minar Kotal, and about Charasia. They are under the command of one responsible native leader in Sherpur, who again is directly controlled by Lieutenant-Colonel Lockhart, the Quartermaster-General of the division. As these horsemen are paid, not by results, but for regular service on patrol work, they are likely to be more trustworthy than the highly-paid spies hitherto employed. If the system could be a little more extended on the lines I have before pointed out in previous letters—viz., regular establishment—it might be a great aid to us in the guerilla warfare we are engaged in.
Important news has been received that Abdur Rahman Khan has left Tashkend, and is now probably in Turkistan. If his residence among the Russians has not thoroughly converted him to their views, he might be a useful man for us to take up. He is ambitious, and, if we can trust Mr. Schuyler’s estimate of him, has some ability which might now be turned to good use. What his influence would be now in the country after so many years of absence we cannot tell; but to-day, in mentioning his name to an old Cabuli, and saying that he was possibly already in Turkistan, my listener’s face lighted up with pleasure, and he eagerly asked if he would return to Cabul. There are so many possibilities to be weighed in calculating the chances of settling affairs here on a fairly safe basis, that Abdur Rahman’s claims may come to be considered. Unless, as I have said, he has been Russianised, he might fall in with our views, and, at least as a provincial governor, be trusted with authority.
In the meantime we are making preparations to hold Cabul as well as Sherpur in case of an attempted repetition of the events of December 11th to 23rd. General Charles Gough’s brigade in the Bala Hissar is busy at work, cutting a broad road from the Shah Shehr Gate (that facing Siah Sung) to the gate overlooking the city near Chandaul. The broken places in the walls have been built up, and improvements made by the Engineers, so as to give shelter to the garrison if an attack were attempted from the city. The Sherderwaza Heights immediately above the Bala Hissar are also to be held in future by one battalion (say 500 or 600 men), stationed in three strong towers, now in course of construction. The first and strongest of these is on the spur above the Arsenal; a steep point completely commanding the Upper Bala Hissar already being crowned with strong walls, the basement of the tower. The crest of the Sherderwaza Heights already boasts of a strong wall, part of the Afghan fortifications; and this position is naturally so strong, the hillside sloping down almost perpendicularly towards Chardeh Valley, that with the two towers now being built it could defy assault from any force destitute of artillery. The ridge running down westwards to the Cabul gorge would also be held if an enemy menaced the city, and on the Asmai Heights on the northern side a strong fort is to be built. The military roads converging upon Dehmazung from Sherpur cantonments unite in Deh-i-Afghan and pass by the foot of the Asmai Hill, whence they are to be continued in one broad road until the main Bamian Road through Chardeh Valley is gained. The towers above mentioned are to be provisioned and watered, always, for ten days, and are to contain small-arm ammunition equal to the requirements of a battalion for that period, calculated on the basis of serious fighting. A road broad enough for guns will also be made about Cabul itself from Deh-i-Afghan to the Bala Hissar, in addition to a circular road about Sherpur cantonments. Another road is to be cut from Bemaru village to the Siah Sung Heights, with a bridge spanning the Cabul river; and yet another from the 67th Gateway (near the south-eastern bastion) direct to the Bala Hissar, this also crossing the river by a new pile bridge. These two roads will ensure communication between Sherpur and the fortress without our troops having to pass near the city walls; and will give us alternative bridges over the Cabul, whereas we formerly had only one bridge, that on the city road from Sherpur. With regard to the cantonment itself, the clear space for 1,000 yards about the walls is already partly made, although the débris of forts and villages destroyed requires much levelling before it can be said that all cover has been swept away. The blocks of solid mud and the loose rubbish could be utilized by skirmishers advancing to attack, and until this accumulation of ruins has been thoroughly levelled, our rifle-fire will not have a fair chance. On the eastern point of the Bemaru Heights a very strong tower is now being rapidly built, and the hill about it is to be scarped for ten yards, so that to assault it from outside cantonments would be impossible. At the north-west corner, below the western end of Bemaru Heights, the line of trenches with their parapet of gun-carriage wheels (described in one of my letters written during the siege) will also be strengthened by a broad and deep wet ditch.
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Chapter XXII
Philanthropic Work in Cabul—Dr. Owen’s Hospital—Prejudices gradually Overcome—The Attendance of Women—The Hospital Wrecked by Fanatics—The Place Re-established—A Visit to the Wards—Gratitude of the Patients—Treatment of Men Wounded in Action—Confidence in the Surgeon’s Skill—Life in Sherpur—Freedom of Criticism upon Current Events—The Sherpur Club—Amusements of the Garrison—The First Theatre—The Pleasures of Skating and Sliding—A Snow Fight on Bemaru Heights—“How they Live in Cabul”—Zenana Life—Prevalence of Intrigues—Shopping—A Cabul Interior—A Lady’s Dress—Cabuli Children—Character of the Citizens of Cabul—The Sirdar—Ambition and Sensuality—A Sirdar’s House—The Rites of Hospitality—The Cabul Trader—His Manner of doing Business.
22nd January, 1880.
As there seems to be an impression gaining ground, at least in England, that our army of occupation have adopted the Russian plan of settling a country—the institution of a Reign of Terror—it may be worth while to describe fully the means which we have taken for drawing the people towards us. After the capture of Cabul in October, it was found that there was a vast amount of disease and suffering among the poorer inhabitants of the city, and that native surgery never attempted to cope with these, except in the rudest way. With the benevolence which generally characterizes our commanders in the field, Sir F. Roberts ordered a charitable dispensary and hospital to be opened in Cabul; and Dr. Owen, Staff Surgeon, was placed in charge of the institution. The Kotwal’s house, vacant by reason of the execution of that official for complicity in the Massacre, was turned into a hospital, and work was begun at once. The rooms were cleaned and put in order, wards for men and women arranged, the tottering walls shaken by earthquakes made safe and sound, and then patients were invited to attend. On November 21st, Dr. Owen was first “consulted,” twelve wretched beings, suffering from various ailments, coming to him for treatment. They were carefully treated, and although, on account of the scarcity of English drugs in camp, no elaborate prescriptions could be made up, the best bazaar medicines were freely given. The news of the Sircar’s latest eccentricity soon began to spread throughout Cabul, and for several days the place was visited by little crowds of persons, who were either sick, or had sick friends who needed treatment. With the suspicion always at work in Afghan minds, that every act of the stranger has some obscure tendency to harm them, the citizens were full of mistrust. They could not appreciate the generosity of their conquerors, and argued that it was absurd to suppose that men who had come to destroy Cabul would sink their ideas of vengeance, and, instead of taking life, would save life and make it worth living. Gradually their ideas changed; they believed in the disinterestedness of the English hakeem (who, by the way, was more than once mistaken for Sir Louis Cavagnari, risen to life again, Dr. Owen slightly resembling our dead Envoy). The number of patients increased; but, with customary jealousy, no women were permitted to seek relief: there might be a plot to invade the sanctity of the Afghan household. But attentions of this sort were not thrust upon the citizens, and some women also were found waiting at the hospital doors. A room was set apart for them in which they could wait without fear of being molested; a middle-aged woman, a Cabuli, acted as matron, and re-assured them, when their fears overcame their desire to be made whole.
By the 11th of December the daily attendance had risen to 118, of whom fully two-thirds were women, and Dr. Owen’s services were sought after by well-to-do citizens, in whose zenanas were sick wives or favourite concubines pining under mysterious ailments. Just when attendances were daily growing more numerous, came the rush of Mahomed Jan’s host upon Cabul. The city was occupied, and in the stupid madness which prompted the ghazis to destroy all marks of our occupation, the dispensary was looted and partly wrecked. Fortunately, the few cases of instruments, which Dr. Owen had to leave behind, were taken away by one of the attendants and buried in a neighbouring house. But the bottles of medicines still on the shelves were broken; chairs, tables, and partitions smashed to pieces; and even doors and windows pulled out. This was in the outer courtyard of the late Kotwal’s house; the rooms grouped about the inner yard were not much interfered with, as they bore but few signs of the stranger’s hand. When on Christmas Day, Dr. Owen once more visited the place, nothing but empty rooms greeted him, and these so filthy, that they could scarcely be entered. However, those in the outer courtyard were soon cleaned, and on the following morning patients were again found waiting at the doors. There were only eighteen on that particular day; but as peaceful times were more assured, the list soon grew to its old proportions; and yesterday, when I visited the hospital, there were 207 patients on the books. The disease most prevalent in Cabul is ophthalmia, caused by dirt and exposure; while cataract and other serious affections of the eye are also only too common. The type is very much the same as that found in Egypt; and partial, or complete, blindness from neglect follows almost as a matter of course. Luckily for the Cabulis, Dr. Owen is a skilled oculist, and already his operations are bruited about the city as marvels that cannot be easily understood by the people.
My visit yesterday was made with Dr. Owen a little before noon; a sharp walk from cantonments, past the ruins of the forts of Mahomed Sharif and Mahomed Khan and over the Cabul river, bringing us in a quarter of an hour to the western skirts of the city, not far from the Bala Hissar. Through a narrow, winding lane, so filthy and muddy that a Cologne slum could not compare with it, and then into the Char Chowk Bazaar, just where it tapers off towards the Peshawur Gate: along this for a few yards, and over a doorway on the right, a wooden board catches the eye, with the words “Charitable Dispensary,” painted upon it, with the Persian translation below. As we passed through the doorway into an open courtyard, where thirty or forty wretched poshteen-clad men were squatting under a rude verandah, a Ghoorka guard of four men stood to attention on the sunny side of the yard. The squatting figures rose up and made their salaam abjectly, as poverty ever does; they were the poorest of the poor—Hazara coolies, Mahomedan beggars, lepers, the blind, the halt, the maimed—all whom wretchedness and disease have cast out as a hideous fringe upon healthful life. Apart from the general crowd were solitary men, whose appearance showed them to belong to the shopkeeping class—an influential section in the busy life of Cabul. Two or three women, veiled from head to foot, resembling nothing so much as Sisters of Charity, followed us in, and, with faces carefully covered by their yashmaks, passed quickly into a closed room, the door of which opening for an instant showed other white-robed figures grouped together. There are three rooms on the right of the courtyard—a small one, in which stores are kept and an attendant lives; a second, which serves as dispensary, surgery and consulting-room; and a third, the zenana, the room in which the women wait in quiet seclusion. Around the inner yard, which is reached by an open passage, are the wards proper of the hospital, wherein surgical cases, or those involving nursing and supervision, are treated. The rooms are warm and comfortable, and the terraced roof is well adapted for convalescent patients, who can “sun” themselves in comfort, that process which does so much to restore strength after a weary illness. A room on the roof is being fitted up for operations, as it is light and airy, and the operator will not be liable to be disturbed by the curious crowd which often collects now in the outer courtyard. Among the in-patients the most noticeable was a man suffering from severe bullet wound in the leg. He had been shot by us during the investment of Sherpur, and now, to his surprise, found himself being treated kindly, and cured of a wound that, if untended, would have caused his death. He seemed very grateful for the attention paid to him: to be given comfortable quarters, food, and a skilful surgeon by the Sircar against whom he had fought, was so unexpected, that his mind had not quite grasped the whole idea. No doubt, in time, he will see that it was done with no more evil intent than to prove that we bear no malice, and are only anxious to conciliate the people. Other wounded men have also been treated, and notice has been sent round to all the villages about that any one suffering from hurts received in the fighting will be admitted freely into the hospital, and, when cured, will he allowed to depart without molestation. Our “Reign of Terror” must surely be of the mildest when our benevolence plays so chief a part in our policy.
After seeing the wards in which the patients were lying covered with blankets, and with their feet thrust towards the middle of the room, where was placed a wooden frame guarding a pan of live charcoal, the heat of which is retained by thick, wadded quilts placed over the frame, we returned to the dispensary where the “out patients” are dealt with. Place aux dames: the women were first treated, two native doctors (one a Cabuli educated in the Punjab) taking their tickets and dispensing medicine, while Dr. Owen rapidly examined them. There were many eye-cases, ophthalmia being most frequent, and the eagerness with which the women pressed forward showed their faith in their newly-found friend. They were nearly all old, wrinkled, and hideous; but their veils were as carefully drawn until they were face to face with the surgeon, as if they had been still youthful and attractive. Two or three children were also brought. One bright-eyed little fellow, with a fractured arm, which had been set a few days before, crying out with pain until it was found that the sling in which the limb was carried had been carelessly tied by his helpless mother, who had not understood the instructions given to her. In a few minutes all was set right again, and the brave little man bore the pain without a murmur. When the worst cases had been seen, Dr. Owen went out to visit one or two patients in the city, leaving the native doctors to deal with such trifling ailments as were sought to be relieved. Medicines are given gratuitously; and though patients with diseases of years’ standing expect to be cured in a few days, everything done to relieve their suffering is gratefully accepted, and belief in the hakeem’s skill is a cardinal article of faith among all of them, as only one death has occurred since the hospital was opened. Dr. Owen is now freely admitted even to houses where Afghan exclusiveness is most severe, and thus imperceptibly an influence is being gained over the minds of the people which cannot fail to do great good. The jealousy of Mahomedans where their women are concerned is quite disarmed when they see how entirely devoted the English surgeon is to his profession, and how little it affects him whether his patients are street beggars, in the lowest depths of misery, or ladies of the zenana, surrounded with every comfort.
I have described one phase of our rule in Cabul, and it will be seen from it whether our policy, however defective it may be in its indistinct outlines and indefinite aims, deserves the title of “Russian.” When wounded ghazis are in our “charitable hospital,” our vengeance must surely be of the most harmless kind. We have troubled waters enough in Afghanistan, but we have also our pool of Siloam.
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I give here two articles written a few weeks later, descriptive of our life in Sherpur, and also of native life in Cabul:—
“HOW WE LIVE IN SHERPUR.”
We are a self-contained colony here, and a self-possessed one, too, for the matter of that, but we are by no means self-satisfied. Every man among us believes that if his advice had only been asked, the Afghan difficulty would have been settled months ago, and we should now be enjoying the delights of furlough in England, or revelling in the fascinating gaieties of the cold season in the plains. A Briton without his grumble would be unworthy of his country, and so we growl and swear against the Powers that be, and ask why, in the name of all that’s wicked, the wire-pullers in India and England do not make up their minds to settle the matter. We are so conscious of our own unrecognized powers as politicians and diplomats, that we laugh to scorn the idea that affairs cannot be put on a footing that would satisfy even the staunchest believers in a scientific frontier. The army in the old days was merely a machine which, once set in motion by the hand of a minister, ground out its life for years and years, without anything more than an occasional groan when its wheels were not properly lubricated. But, now, things are changed: every soldier is not only a fighting machine, but a thinking machine, digesting rumours and theories with marvellous voracity, and reproducing patched and piebald opinions of his own, which will intrude themselves into prominence. There can be in our ranks no “mute, inglorious” Wellingtons—or Wolseleys (for, in the eyes of many purblind people, the terms are synonymous); an officer can now through many channels criticize and smash up the strategy of a campaign, and calmly sit upon the heads of his seniors while his comrades applaud most heartily. Even the private soldier in the ranks knows full well that if he only pulls the long bow sufficiently in a letter home, some sympathizing party journal will accept his view of the situation, and upon it draw with no uncertain hand the outlines of a new policy. If the flood of criticism which is now surging about Sherpur could only be collected in one stream, and be poured upon the devoted heads of the clever politicians who hold our destinies in their hands, these gentlemen would never stand high and dry again; they would be overwhelmed once and for all. A shower bath braces the system; a waterspout drowns all upon whom it falls; and if there were not a feeling that our blundering along here, without a guiding light to show General and soldier what to do, were now coming to an end, such a phenomenon as a waterspout might arise in Sherpur. But I have before sketched this phase of an existence here: if I said “life,” my own might be endangered by the indignant army of Philistines, who only “exist;” and it is useless to revive the cry of “Loot, Love, and Liberty,” for not one of these blessings is forthcoming.
And yet from day to day we continue our being, and the days are not so long as at first sight might be supposed. We have one panacea for all the evils with which we believe ourselves beset: we make the best of everything. Given the fine, bright weather which delighted us only a few days ago, and Gymkhana meets, pony matches, polo and dog-hunting delight our hearts and strengthen our digestions. Given a snow-fall and a rapid thaw, when the ground underfoot is merely a quagmire: our rooms and mess-houses, snug and warm, seem to invite us to a quiet rubber or an earnest study of books and papers. And then there is our Club; it is an accomplished fact, and, what is more, is an “institution.” It was conceived in the calm which preceded the stirring events of December 11th to 24th, but its birth came not until a fortnight ago. It is not of the imposing kind that was first intended, but still it suffices for all our wants, and is made a rendezvous by all who care for some other society than the familiars of their own messes. From Bemaru village, where the Guides are encamped, and the choice spirits of the Transport Department hold high revel occasionally on that spot sacred to the memory of that foolish virgin who died be-maru (without husband)—from Bemaru to the quarters in the western wall is nearly two miles; and it was not to be wondered at that friends at either end of cantonments saw little of each other when there was no gathering-point. One might pay a visit and, after tramping through slush and snow, find one’s friend absent. To accept an invitation to dinner meant braving pitfalls and watercourses in the darkness, or helplessly wandering about in the darkness on the return journey, uncertain in what direction one’s home lay. But now the Club is a recognized centre, about which, in the evening, when work is over and dinner not yet on the table, many of us gather. The excuse is a “nip” before dinner; the reason our sociable instincts. A witty Frenchman has said:—“Wherever three or four Englishmen are congregated, voilà un club!” It is so: there is nothing to be ashamed of in our love of companionship. And our Club has the charm of novelty, both in situation and design. It is the first established under the shadow of the Hindu Kush, on historic ground; and its architecture is a mixture of the nomadic and Public Works styles. We pitched a large tent: we were nomads; we took down the canvas side-walls, and built in their place walls of mud and bricks, pierced with windows and doors, and with chimneys springing out above the canvas roof. The structure was complete. From nomads we became clubmen. Could civilization further go? And here we meet and exchange views upon things in general and Afghanistan in particular, subaltern and Colonel shouldering each other in true club style, the mixed crowd being flavoured generally with a Brigadier or two, while the darlings of the Staff air their gold-lace in a more congenial atmosphere than their stuffy quarters, which are office, dining, and sleeping rooms all in one. Certainly our Club is a success.
In the shape of indoor amusements, Christy minstrel bands are springing up, and one theatre has already had a short season—three nights. The 72nd Highlanders have rigged up in the ditch near their quarters a number of pals resting against the stout mud wall, and in this a first-class stage has been built with act-drop, scenery, footlights, and all complete. On the opening night the 5th Ghoorkas, old friends of the 72nd, felt that their patronage was indispensable; and when two little “Ghoorkis” struggled into the pit and tried to peep over the heads of the crowd, a dozen eager hands hoisted them shoulder-high, and amid great applause they were carried to the front and placed in the first row. Here they smiled their thanks as only Ghoorkas can smile—from ear to ear—and when the curtain rose, they watched the performance critically and with unbounded satisfaction.
The severe weather that has declared itself during the last few days has added new sources of amusement. A week ago the owners of skates were disgusted with the non-appearance of hard frost; now skating goes on nearly all day long, and the science of sliding is also being cultivated. Europeans and natives alike indulge in a “slide;” and to see half a dozen Guides contentedly coming croppers on the ice, and rising again with immense satisfaction, only to sit suddenly down the moment afterwards, would make Timour himself smile benignantly. Once on the slide, every man seems but a child of larger growth, and right gleefully the game is kept up until tired nature gives in, and various points of our bodies remind the most hardy that bruises are painful when excitement dies out. With the fall of snow on Monday came a battle-royal, which will always live in the annals of our occupation. To tell the story with due solemnity: at noon word was brought to the 72nd Highlanders that the enemy (the 67th Foot and 92nd Gordon Highlanders) had occupied the strong fort on the eastern end of the Bemaru Heights. Without delay the regiment fell in 500 strong, and, reinforced by the 9th Lancers and some artillerymen, marched with banners flying and drums beating to the attack. (The banners were those lately captured on the Takht-i-Shah Peak and the Asmai Heights; the drums were various cooking-pots.) On nearing the enemy’s position, the attacking force was joined by a detachment of the 5th Ghoorkas under their British officers; skirmishers were thrown out, and the bugle sounded the assault. The storming party were headed by the standard-bearers, the cry of “Ghazis to the front!” being answered by a rush of these reckless men up the hillside. They were met by such a terrific fire, the air being darkened by snowballs, that the assault seemed hopeless. But amid the din the cry of their leader, “Ghazis to the front!” rang out—
“Ho! Ghazis to the front! Ho! Ghazis bear the brunt Of the battle waged on snowy Bemaru! Let not the stinging ball your fiery hearts appal, But hurl the Kafirs down! Allah-hu!”
The despatch says:—
“A desperate resistance was made, but a bugler with the 72nd succeeded by a ruse in turning the fortunes of the day. He crept round in the enemy’s rear and sounded the regimental call of the 92nd, followed by the ‘cease fire’ and ‘retreat;’ the 92nd fell back and the attacking party carried the position. Many prisoners were taken and the usual atrocities committed—one gallant Highlander having three men sitting on his chest at once; while others, equally gallant, were buried alive in the snow. The conduct of all concerned fully bore out the estimate previously formed of the splendid fighting powers of our men, and several 'V.C.s’ are to be awarded. The number of wounded was unusually great, but all are now doing well. The defeat of the enemy was so complete that they at once sued for peace, and a treaty was signed at the Club later in the day by the principal leaders. In consequence of the ink being frozen, curaçoa and brandy were substituted.”
It will be seen from the halting sketch here drawn, that with all our growling discontent at being left in the dark as to the future, we manage to smooth away the rough edges of our life which so much gall us, and that our petulance never grows into sulkiness. That we have to fall back upon rough horse-play occasionally is not surprising: there is no softening influence to keep our spirits at an equable temperature. We are a colony of men—chiefly young men; and Cabul society is so very select that we have not yet gained an entrance within its sacred limits. If we were to make ceremonial calls upon the zenanas, we should probably be confronted by some buck-Afghan, with a knife in his hand and an oath in his mouth. Love and war do not go hand in hand now in Cabul, although they did forty years ago; so we must sigh in vain for a glimpse of that beauty which the yashmaks hide so jealously when the Cabul ladies flit by us in the narrow streets of the city. When a more than usually coquettish white-clad figure passes, we turn hastily about; but what can be seen?—
“Nought but the rippling linen wrapping her about.”
And what is she like in the seclusion of the zenana? Ah, that lies apart from our life in Sherpur; but perhaps I may be able to partly answer the question. “How we Live in Sherpur,” can only have as its companion picture—
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“HOW THEY LIVE IN CABUL.”
It is not an attractive life, that which we have come upon in Cabul; but it has its lights and shades and a certain robustness of its own, which is now more than ever apparent. The reaction after the excitement of the siege of Sherpur was terribly depressing for a time in the city, as every Mahomedan citizen felt that a heavy punishment might fall upon him, and in most cases justly. But these ignorant fanatics did not know that the Government of England is a limited monarchy tempered by Exeter Hall. Now they have fully realized that we were in earnest in offering an amnesty to all who would return peacefully to their homes, and have renewed their trading with a vigour which shows their appreciation of our new rupees. As in every Oriental city, the life led by men and by women runs on very different lines; the concerns of the bazaar and the affairs of the zenana are as distinct as day and night; the one is all energy and strife, the other dulness and monotony. Woman has no place in the creed of Mahomed beyond the base one of continuing the Mussulman race; she is an inferior creature, to be shut up and kept from mischief within the four walls of her master’s harem. If she loves her lord—or some part of him, as she generally shares his affection and bodily presence with other wives or slaves—she dutifully brings forth a son to continue the race, and then her mission ends. She is a piece of furniture, a belonging of the zenana; and if nature has not gifted her with a love of intrigue, she must be content to vegetate in seclusion until, in the ripeness of years, she drops out of life. She knows she has nothing to expect beyond the grave; does not her creed teach her that her lord will lie in the lap of houris steeped in eternal sensual bliss? Perhaps in her wildest flights of imagination, she may gain hope from some such mad idea as that she and her fellows will be blended into one great mass, from which will spring millions of houris to people the heavens, and wait with open arms for the souls of the faithful. May not she, in houri form, fall to the lot of the man she loved on earth, who despised her as something too trivial for much consideration? Such a belief may comfort her; let us hope it does.
But woman in Cabul has fewer restrictions placed upon her than in other Oriental cities, and the semi-freedom she enjoys has been the theme upon which travellers in old days delighted to enlarge. Cabul is declared by them to be the city of intrigue. This belief arose from the practice of women, closely veiled from head to foot, being allowed to pass unmolested along the public streets, unattended and with no restrictions upon their movements. One enthusiastic writer, speaking no doubt from experience, asserts that the mind of an Englishman cannot imagine the extent to which intrigues are carried on in this forward city. Wife, daughter, or mother, could, according to his account, pass from the zenana into the narrow thoroughfares about, and with perfect confidence visit any lover upon whom her eyes had fallen. Every figure loses its identity in the folds of the white drapery which completely envelopes a woman from head to heel, and the yashmak covering the face blots out the features more thoroughly than a mask. Undoubtedly this freedom of action does exist, in appearance at least, still; white-robed figures flit about the bazaars and the by-streets, and no one pays regard thereto; but they are women of low degree, with no charms to guard, and probably with but little thought of pleasure in their minds. If finest linen, a gold embroidered boot, a coquettish mincing step, attract the attention of a Kafir, the latter will invariably find that the lady is attended by some duenna, or more probably by two or three male domestics, who clear a way for their mistress through the motley crowd. The Afghans are said to be peculiarly jealous of their women: witness the proclamation issued to our soldiers before Kushi was left!—and though love laughs at locksmiths, it seems incredible that any sirdar or well-to-do citizen should allow the inmates of his zenana liberty to wander about at will, with no eye to watch their movements. We are rather at a disadvantage in Cabul; for a Kafir to explore the penetralia of the gloomy high-walled houses is next to impossible. We have a Club, it is true, but it is not on the deliciously free principles of the Orleans; and if we were to institute five-o’clock tea, and send out cards of invitation to Madame Shere Ali and Madame Yakub Khan, and harem, or any other ladies of distinction in Cabul, there would be no chance of the invitation being accepted. The ladies might rise to the occasion, but their grim guardians would baulk their intentions with a vengeance. To make calls of ceremony would be equally impossible, for there are no grass-widows in Cabul with whom to enjoy a cosy tête-à-tête. If, by some lucky combination of the stars, a Kafir were fortunate enough to gain the sacred ground of the zenana, its simple-minded inmate would probably lisp out in fluid, but passionless, Persian:
“I do not seek a lover, thou Christian knight so gay; Because an article like that has never come my way.”
In fact, a stranger in the harem would be a very indefinite article indeed in Cabul, for it is not every one who can hope for the good fortune of a McGahan, who, in the Khanate of Khiva, wandered into a zenana, and was treated with hospitality and caresses by its inmates.
But it may be as well to be more definite in dealing with the life of women in Cabul; and I will endeavour to describe, in all fairness, what I have personally seen. To take the commonest figures seen in the bazaar: It is not unusual for women to do their “shopping” in public, though they lack the confidence of Western ladies, who parade their men-kind on such important occasions.
A Cabul lady stops before a stall in the bazaar, puts out a small fair hand, richly ringed, and touches any article she needs: generally a piece of Bokhara silk or English linen. The shopkeeper, sitting cross-legged among his goods, names his price; the customer quietly pulls the silk, say, towards her, bows her head, and, raising her yashmak an inch, looks critically upon the article. The seller stares over her head at the busy life about him, says not a word till the examination is at an end, and finally, after a little bartering, sells the silk, or throws it back into its place. In either case he cannot have any idea of the identity of the customer, though from her jewellery he may make a shrewd guess as to the length of her purse. Not every woman’s fingers are circled by rings, or her yashmak secured with loops of gold. And so the lady passes on, pausing, perhaps, at other stalls, but never for long. To loiter before the goods which may charm her eye seems no part of her business, even when a more than usually brilliant display of silk or embroidered shoes attracts her. Her walk is hurried, her time, perhaps, is precious, and she glides among the crowd quietly, and as if shunning attention, though no one, unless he be a Kafir, pays the least regard to her presence. Finally, she turns off into some side-street, and disappears in a narrow gateway leading, one supposes, to her home. The majority of such women shrink from any chance contact with a Kafir of any kind; though such little bits of comedy have been acted as one of our gallants peering into doors and gateways only to find an unveiled face turned towards him, and that face generally very plain and unprepossessing. Such dames are of an uncertain age, and are not coy in thus rewarding attention or admiration, though such reward never goes beyond unveiling for an instant.
I had occasion quite lately to visit the house of a merchant in Cabul, a Mussulman of some little standing, and by a lucky accident got a glimpse of the home life of such a woman as I have described shopping in the bazaar. My companion and guide—who or what he was matters not—led me through tortuous streets, so filthy, that to tread them was alone a trial, until at a nail-studded door he stopped and knocked twice or thrice with the large iron “knocker” on its centre. All was still and silent inside for a moment, and then a picturesque-looking ruffian, no doubt the Afghan serving man of the period, suddenly withdrew a bolt inside, after examining us through the wicket. We stumbled along a passage dark enough to make the few holes about more treacherous than holes ever were before, and then suddenly came a stream of light and we were in an open courtyard. It was commonplace enough: there were no “murmuring fountains, orange trees, or shady nooks,” such as Eastern travellers love to dwell upon; simply a brown square plot of ground with rooms, two storeys high, surrounding it on all sides. On the left, facing the south, were the quarters of the owner; his reception-room and zenana, side by side; with a narrow doorway, screened by a purdah (in Western phrase, a portière), leading from one to the other. The rooms were open to the air on the courtyard side, elaborately-carved woodwork in the shape of sliding panels being the only screen from the sun. The interior was comfortable enough: the floors were covered with carpets, over which was laid clean white linen; the walls were either of carved wood or plaster, painted in gay colours. The interior of the zenana I could not see while in the reception-room, but from it presently appeared a bedizened youngster, who made friends at once. The sound of whispers behind the purdah came clearly enough into the room; and I would not be sure that we were not being examined by feminine eyes, while our host courteously served tea in beautiful little bowls that would have delighted a china-maniac. In an inner room, divided from the reception-room by light wooden pillars, were carved recesses, in which was a wealth of china: teapots from Russia, howls from Kashgar and China, and others of a nondescript kind, covered with richly-coloured designs in yellow, green, and chocolate, the three colours most in favour among Cabulis.
Our visit was a short one, but as the master of the house led the way to the door, I lingered behind, and was rewarded by a glimpse into the zenana. It differed but little in appearance from the other room; the carpets were guiltless of any linen-cover, the walls were more brilliantly painted, cushions and pillows were scattered about, and the three inmates were on tiptoe of expectation as we passed. Two faces I saw; one old and wrinkled, the other young and pleasing. “An old wife and a younger rival” was the conclusion I arrived at, and their dress bore out this idea. The elder wore nothing but pure white; the younger was gorgeous in green and crimson silk. Just a glance, and it was over: the child I have mentioned was being caressed by the third wife, whose back was towards her companions, and another child was lying asleep among the pillows. But for the presence of the children, it would have seemed dulness personified, as signs of occupation or amusement there were none. So much for the bit of quiet home life in Cabul: how monotonous it must be, none can tell, except, perhaps, those who have to endure it!
The dress of the Afghan women, especially those whose husbands have rank or wealth, is extremely picturesque. A short, tightly-fitting bodice of green, blue, or crimson silk, confines the bust, but buttons so closely up to the throat, that one can only guess at the proportions of shoulders and bosom. The bodice is generally embroidered with gold, and then becomes so stiff and unyielding, that it is virtually a corset. In this cold weather the short arms of this sari are continued down to the wrist, and the vest itself is padded with wool for the sake of warmth. Trousers à la Turc, baggy and flowing as Fatima’s, and tightly fastened at the ankles with gold or silver bands, a broad silk kummerbund of almost endless length about the waist, with the ends so disposed that they become skirts; dainty white socks and a tiny slipper or shoe, gold-embroidered—such is the indoor dress of a Cabuli lady; while covering and hiding all save feet and ankles is the voluminous white garment drawn over the head and face, and falling to the heels. These veiled beauties wear jewellery alike about the forehead, hands, wrists, arms, ankles, and ears; while handsome gold loops secure the yashmak at the back of the head; the hair being drawn from the forehead and tied tightly into a knot, Grecian fashion. The length of a silk kummerbund, which encircles a lady’s waist, is sometimes astonishing: one I saw must have been 12 yards long by 18 inches broad, and the end was even then not forthcoming. The slippers and shoes are of Cabuli make, and are very pretty. On a pale green ground beautiful patterns are worked with gold and silver thread and particoloured silk, until the effect is more like that of a fairy slipper than one for daily use. When a stout leathern sole is put on with high heels rudely bound with iron, the work of art is complete. The stalls in which these slippers and shoes are made are the gayest in the whole bazaar. A Cabuli lady’s foot is small, almost to deformity, and the baggy trousers by contrast make them appear exceedingly petite.
From the few faces seen, being chiefly those of old or passée women, it is difficult to judge of the famed beauty which the Cabulis are said to boast. The children are certainly, as a whole, the prettiest I have ever seen. Their complexions are red and white, with a tinge of olive pervading the skin, eyes black and lustrous, well-shaped features, teeth to make a Western beauty envious, and bright, intelligent looks, that sadly belie the race to which they belong. Their mothers must be beautiful, for their fathers are generally villanous-looking: the men losing all the pleasing traits which they possessed as boys. The lady I have described as seen in the zenana for a moment was certainly handsome, and was far lighter in complexion than a Spaniard; her eyes were really worthy of the praises sung by Hafiz, but the sensuous lips were a little too full and pouting. It was just such a face as one imagines in a harem, and would be in keeping with the langourous life of a voluptuary, to whom sensuality is a guiding star. Such faces always lack character, and would soon prove insipid in the eyes of the West. The Cabuli lady, when journeying, is either carried in an elaborate wicker-work cage covered with the inevitable flowing linen, or rides, Amazon-fashion, on a pony behind her lord. At times she is coquettish enough to throw warm glances at Kafirs, behind her husband’s back, and is no doubt delighted at the admiration bestowed upon her daintily-slippered feet.
What the mission in life is of such women, in such a country as this, may be summed up in a few words. She must play the part of a mother, rather than a wife, for her sympathies go all with the children left to be brought up in the zenana, and not with their father, whose course lies in different lines in the busy scheming world outside. That some women of strong character occasionally share their husband’s ambition, and aid him by advice and suggestions, is quite true. The mother and wife of Yakub Khan are both women of exceptional ability, influencing and guiding men, and well versed in state intrigues. But the exceptions are few, and only prove the general rule obtaining in all Mahomedan countries, that woman is a cypher outside the four walls of the zenana.
The life of her master is a most difficult subject. To fathom the motives of an Afghan, or to explain his actions, would be a task for a Machiavelli, and I must deal with it in such manner as I can. It has always been held that the distinguishing features of a Cabuli are turbulence and treachery, and late events have only confirmed men in this belief. The arrangement of the city into quarters, each securely shut off from its neighbours by strong walls and fortified gateways, the part played by the Bala Hissar as a citadel dominating the tower below, and affording a refuge for the sovereign during bloody émeutes, proved to travellers in past days that the life of the populace was far from a peaceful one. Even now, though the old subdivisions of the city exist but in name,—except the Kizilbash quarter, which has still the means of cutting itself off from outside by strong gateways,—it is apparent that the Amirs never trusted their lives and property to the tender mercies of their citizen-subjects. When our army arrived at Cabul, the Bala Hissar was still a fortress capable of resisting successfully any attack made without artillery, and within its walls were the palace of the Amir, his harem, and his arsenal. Our Envoy, too, was lodged in the fortress, as the fanaticism of the Cabulis might have prompted an attack upon the Residency, if it had been in the heart of the city, with its bazaars re-echoing to the prayers of the moollahs and the cries of fakirs. That safety was not found even in the Bala Hissar, was due rather to the weakness of Yakub Khan and his contemptuous treatment of an exasperated soldiery than to any independent action of the populace. It is true that the city rabble joined in the attack upon the Embassy, but that was only when military discipline was at an end, and the men who should have guarded the lives of the Amir’s guests were in the full cry of mutiny. Again, the building of Sherpur, with its range of barracks and new fortress upon Bemaru (planned, but never executed) was due to Shere Ali’s dread of Cabul and its armed mob. With the Bala Hissar on one side and Sherpur on the other, he was sanguine enough to hope for peace and quietness in his capital; and these he would no doubt have secured if he had not foolishly quarrelled with the Indian Government, whose subsidy gave him the wherewithal to raise and equip a large army and rear the walls of his new fortress.
Every Afghan is a soldier, and the Cabulis are no exception to the rule. Their stalls are to them what homesteads are to the mountain tribes and peasants; and when extortion or taxation grows in their opinion excessive, they are ready to turn out armed to the teeth, and by open menace to intimidate their rulers. A tyrant alone can hope to keep them in due subjection; and, as a rule, Cabul has been under the influence of tyranny for many centuries. As a natural result, when turbulence occasionally subsides, treachery flourishes; and the history of the city is full of instances of treacherous plots, and successful if bloody intrigues. Coming as we have done in the guise of an avenging army, we have greatly modified the normal appearance of things in the city, our proclamation forbidding the carrying of arms having destroyed the picturesque ruffianism which used to stalk through the bazaars armed with gun, shield, and knife, and ready for all emergencies. Not a weapon now is seen except in an armourer’s shop, or on the person of some armed retainer of a Sirdar who has thrown in his lot with the British. It is a change for the better in our eyes; but when the people see our soldiers passing along with Martini or Snider slung over the shoulder, they must long to ruffle it again, and bring out from their hiding-places their own rifles and matchlocks. But it is not to be yet; though, when we again leave this “God-governed country” to its own devices, the good people of Cabul will once more be able to resume their old habits.
The influential citizens of Cabul are broadly divisible into two representative classes—the Sirdar and the trader; and in taking one from each of these sections, I shall be able fairly to sketch the general life led by the more orderly of the Cabulis. There are, of course, a mass of men: artizans, street-hawkers, retainers, and hangers-on generally, who furnish the rabble which has often made mob-law supreme within the walls; but these may be left to themselves for a little. The Sirdar has always been a prominent figure in Afghan history; he is to all intents a feudal chief, and answers very much to the Baron who, in the Dark Ages, had so much to say in the government of Western countries. He is generally of royal blood, a cousin (some twenty times removed) of the Amir; but this relationship with the sovereign is not advantageous if the Sirdar is at all ambitious of power. There are so many revolutions of the wheel in the Barakzai dynasty, that the assumption of dignity by a subordinate is always jealously watched by the Amir, and promptly nipped in the bud just when it bids fair to become dangerous. Ties of kin are but little regarded in a country where continually father is arrayed against son, brother against brother; and where human life is held so cheaply that scarcely a man reaches middle age without having blood upon his hands. The Sirdar has either to muzzle his ambition and wait patiently for a chance of suddenly acquiring power; or to accept a colourless life of ease, with nothing to trouble his mind except the caprices of a favourite slave-girl, or the loss of a valuable horse. It is not surprising, then, that in Cabul there are Sirdars perfect in dissimulation and adepts in intrigue; and others mere slaves of their sensuality, to whom the world means merely pillaus and pillows, cakes and concubines. Such men are those loved by Cæsar:
... “men that are fat; Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o’ nights.”
And the easy-going Sirdar answers so fully to this description, that it would seem as if the cares of life sat very lightly upon him. Such men are too characterless to repay observation; and though we see many of them here, we pass them by contemptuously, except when a mountain of flesh more than usually formidable looms upon us in cantonments. They are not men given to fighting or political intrigue; and such as we have now among us are anxious only as to their allowances which the “Great British Government” guarantees to them while they are faithful to its interests. If they are time-servers, it is simply because they have no idea beyond the present one of comfort and quietness; if we were defeated they would probably make their obeisance to the new rulers, and would settle down calmly to their daily enjoyment of the fat of the land in their well-stocked harems. There were such men among our own hard-headed Barons ages ago, who watched their more ambitious compeers make and ruin dynasties, and lived placidly through all the turmoil without even being partisans.
But the other type of Sirdar is a very different person: he holds that to be powerful is the salt of life, and his aim from youth to old age is to seek power in all its forms. He is generally rich and a lover of show; valuing money for the advantage to which it can be turned in many ways, and estimating pomp at its real worth—to impress the ignorant and humiliate the inferior. His life as now made up is not to outward seeming one of much importance, but not one of us can hope to penetrate beneath its surface, and examine the many schemes which pass through his mind. He lives in one of the large, high-walled houses which are studded about the city, though he has a “villa” or two in pleasant Koh-Daman, or one of the near valleys. If one visits him, the courtesy with which he receives a guest is that of a polished gentleman, flavoured, perhaps too highly, with the Eastern affectation of humility. His house is reached through byways and along covered-in streets, so dark and noisome that one expects to meet a ghazi at every turn. But all is quiet, and finally a bit of blue sky is seen overhead, a narrow doorway is passed through, and the square courtyard of the house gained. A few horses, saddled and bridled, are standing in a sunny corner; a dozen picturesque-looking ruffians are lounging about; the great man is at home. We find him in a long room squatting on an ottoman with a dozen friends and associates about him, to whom he has doubtless been expounding some new and brilliant idea that has occurred to him. He is politely anxious about his visitor’s health, thanking God that it is well with him, and inquires if “the General” also is well. His conversation is guarded, but he makes up for his reticence by his hospitality: it would be derogatory to his dignity if the rite were not duly honoured; and in a few minutes trays bearing little cups of sweetened tea, sweetmeats, nuts and grapes, are being handed round by two or three of the loungers we passed in the courtyard. This tea is a mystery to me; it is always ready; it is always good, and one can sip cup after cup with an enjoyment that positively increases with indulgence. The Sirdar’s friends are mostly notable men: that grey-bearded old gentleman on his right is a tribal chief of some importance, who has come from his distant village to see how things move in Cabul after the late jehad; that dark-visaged man is a Bokhara trader, whose mind holds news of the White Czar and of the changing fates of the Central Asian Khanates; while his counterpart is another trader returned from Hindustan, where he has, perhaps, seen and learnt much that may shape the Sirdar’s views in future. Behind the Sirdar is a richly embroidered purdah veiling the entrance to the zenana, wherein the quiet life of the women slowly moves. Our conversation is short and purely ornamental, and we take our leave, pleasantly impressed with the courtesy shown, but pondering over the depth of Afghan duplicity which is so cunningly hidden. The Sirdar passes his morning among his friends, and in the afternoon he will probably visit General Roberts or Major Hastings, the Chief Political Officer, to learn much, but to impart little. How far he can be trusted no one knows, not excepting even himself. If by serving us he can make his position secure, he will “sell” his nearest friends; if he thinks his interests are safe with men opposing us, he will thwart our projects with all the skill he possesses. His life now is not so restless as in old days, as our army has broken up all settled government, and the prospect is so hazy, that to dabble too openly in dangerous schemes might land him in distant Calcutta, to bear Daoud Shah company. Our Sirdar has lakhs of money hidden away in his house or buried in some secret spot; but he is cunning enough to swear that he lost greatly when Mahomed Jan held Cabul, and asks the British Government to recoup him, as he has always been faithful to its interests. The new influences at work upon his life are not so welcome to him, as they are novel and not to be easily understood; and he would far prefer the old order of things, when he could pit himself against some rival and gain his ends by crooked ways that he knows we should not countenance. If his chances just now of being shot or stabbed are not so great as formerly, he does not, with his fatalistic ideas, appreciate the change; and at times he grows sullen, and is discontented with our temporary rule.
The trader is a very different personage: he has seen men and cities, and his chief aim is to amass wealth, which he believes to be the keystone of happiness. His vocation now in Cabul is to make fabulous profits out of the British army of occupation which has invaded the sanctity of the city, and cowed its fanatical populace. In his heart of hearts the trader hates us sincerely; but he will endure curses from the Commissariat, or hard words from under-strappers, for the sake of the few lakhs of rupees he hopes to pocket. He will take contracts for anything, from sheep to charpoys, and will fleece everyone dealing with him with such calm self-assurance, that one is inclined to adopt, once for all, the theory that the Afghans are, indeed, the lost tribes of Israel. He is a power in the city, for he has money always at his command; and though he may have suffered grievously from extortion, he is shrewd enough to know that complaints are useless. He will visit our friend the Sirdar, and will gain his countenance and help in some nefarious transaction, perhaps such as “bearing” the money market, cutting off our sheep supply, or raising the prices of articles suddenly in demand. He may play the part of political spy in return for the Sirdar’s help, or become a principal in some scheme that requires delicate working. The trader has his house, which also serves as a store-house for his goods, in some filthy corner of Cabul; and some near relative acts as a partner, and does the dirty work of retailing his goods from a narrow stall in the bazaar. Should a big transaction be coming off, with some merchant from the Khanates, in silks, furs, or precious stones, the trader has the universal tea-drinking, to which he invites the stranger, and he spends days in ceaseless chafering until the prices are duly fixed and the bargain concluded. In the bazaar itself but little trade on a large scale is carried on, the travelling merchants storing their goods in one or other of the large serais, while they let it be known from stall to stall that they have merchandise on sale. The trader is naturally of a peaceable disposition, and as his house is usually stored with rich goods, and his hoards of money are buried beneath the ground in his courtyard, he dreads an outbreak by the populace, who may levy contributions upon his effects. But he has within him the Afghan instinct of sturdy resistance to all assailants. With his iron-studded door closed against intruders, with half a dozen servants armed à la Cabul with gun pistol, and knife, he is no mean antagonist to deal with. He would scarcely join in a tumult except when his fanaticism overcame his better judgment, for there are too many risks to be run when once a populace like that of Cabul has broken free from all control. The trader in this respect is considerably removed from the mere stall keeper, who is always ripe for riot, and is never better pleased than when turning out fully armed. We have seen a great deal since our occupation of the trader, and he does not improve upon acquaintance. He is cringing and subservient when a tight hand is kept upon him, but beneath his plausibility is a fund of cunning, which carries him triumphantly through all his knavery. Like the Sirdar, he is an instrument we are forced to use in this unprofitable country, but which is to be thrown away without compunction when done with.
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Chapter XXIII
The Afghan Army—The Amir Shere Ali’s Efforts to raise Disciplined Troops—The founding of Guns—Surferaz’s Failure—A Cabuli Gunsmith sent to Peshawur Arsenal—A Foundry established in Cabul—The Manufacture of Rifled Guns and Small Arms—Cabuli Gunpowder and Cartridges—Percussion Caps—Army Clothing Department—The Number of Guns and Small Arms in Afghanistan—Cost of Shere Ali’s Army—Weakness of the Organization—Regulars versus Tribesmen—Their Behaviour in various Actions—The Failure of the Regular Army—Suggestion for the Creation of a Militia—The Ghazi Element among Irregulars—How a Ghazi is Made—His Mode of Fighting.
SHERPUR, 28th January, 1880.
Afghanistan is a nation of soldiers, every adult being (apart from any military training he may receive) a ready swordsman and a fair shot. In our old wars we found but little organization existing among the followers of the Dost and his son, Mahomed Akhbar, and the discipline of our troops told in the long run against the masses they had to face. Afghanistan then produced, as a writer has said, nothing but stones and men: the stones made good sungars, which thousands of men were always ready to defend. But after Shere Ali had assumed the Amirship, a change came over the “war department” of the country: that shrewd sovereign had his eyes opened to the necessity of having something more than an unlimited supply of men to fight his battles, and after his visit to India, in 1869, he began to cast about for means whereby he could arm and equip his troops in civilized fashion. Fortunately for his project, he was on the best of terms at that time with the Indian Government, and among the valuable presents he carried back with him to Cabul were a siege-train (consisting of four 18-pounders and two 8-inch howitzers), a mountain battery of six guns, 5,000 Snider rifles, 15,000 Enfields, and no less than 1,000,000 rounds of ball ammunition. This was the groundwork upon which he hoped to build up a well-equipped army, with artillery sufficient to make himself feared by all his neighbours, and respected both by the English and Russian Governments, upon his relations with which might ultimately depend the safety of his kingdom. To a man of less energy than Shere Ali, the project he took in hand would have seemed so full of difficulties, that it might have been reasonably abandoned after a fair trial; but the then Amir was a man of stubborn self-will; and his mind once made up, nothing could turn him from his object. The story of his successful struggle to create an army of all arms on the European pattern can be best told by reference to a report drawn up on information supplied by various sirdars and artisans, since our occupation of Cabul. Lieutenant Neville Chamberlain, Extra Assistant Political Officer, is the compiler of this valuable report, which gives in detail an account of Shere Ali’s steady progress in the armament of his kingdom, until he made the fatal mistake of quarrelling with the British. One cannot fail to be struck with astonishment at the rapidity with which guns were made, rifles imitated, and cartridges turned out by the 100,000 in a country which boasts of but few resources.
Shere Ali could easily enough make regiments of infantry and cavalry, dress them after the fashion of the men he had seen paraded in India, and drill them in a few simple movements. If he were guilty of the solecism of making Highlanders mount on horseback, there was no great blunder committed; they were his mounted rifles, and were not likely to come to grief, as every Afghan is more or less a horseman. But in the question of artillery, the Amir had to face a problem which must have cost him much anxious thought. The old brass cannon which had been used for many years as wall-pieces in the different fortresses of Afghanistan, sank into insignificance when compared with the guns Lord Mayo had given him. The latter were few in number, and it was all-important they should he multiplied, so that if three or four armies took the field, each should have its due complement of guns. There were skilled artisans in Cabul who had made brass guns; and one of these, named Surferaz, was given funds by Shere Ali and peremptorily ordered to turn out guns on the pattern of the siege-train and mountain battery which had lately arrived from India. The unlucky man tried his best; but, at the end of a few months, his work was pronounced a failure; and as he had spent Rs. 12,000 in his experiments, he was summarily thrown into prison, and all his property confiscated. This was his reward for obeying the orders of a tyrant. But Shere Ali was not to be foiled, and rightly attributing the failure to want of technical knowledge, he sent the uncle of Surferaz, Dost Mahomed, a skilled gunsmith, to Peshawur, to be instructed in the mysteries of rifled guns. Dost Mahomed may be allowed to tell his own story, as it is full of interest. He says:—
“I am a Cabuli by birth and a gunsmith. My father was a gunsmith before me. After Shere Ali’s return from India, I was sent to Peshawur with a letter to Colonel Pollock, the Commissioner there, in which he was asked to allow me to visit the Arsenal, and see how the rifled guns were made. I remained in Peshawur for three months, until the permission of Government arrived. I then visited the Arsenal daily, and saw exactly how everything was done; and on my departure I was given models of guns in wood, with complete drawings of the details. I returned to Cabul, and with these models and some complete models of rifled breech-loading Armstrongs, which had been given to the Amir during his visit to India, I began work. I had three principal assistants: my nephew, Surferaz (who had then been liberated), Mahomed Ali, and a man named Rashed. Any number of workmen were at my disposal, as I had only to state the number I required, and they were impressed from among the city smiths. Before commencing a gun, a sum of money was given to me, which I was not to exceed. The following were the prices in Cabuli rupees:—
Rs. Field gun 1,500 Royal Horse Artillery gun 1,000 Mountain gun 300 ” ” (laminated steel) 600
“I never either lost or gained much by my contract. The iron for the guns came principally from India—some through Shikarpur, some from Peshawur. A small quantity was procured from Bajour and Zurmut. The core of the gun was first welded by hand on an iron bar, the required length and diameter. Long strips of iron having been placed all round the core, they were well hammered together, and bands of iron placed over all to keep everything in its place. The gun was then bored out by the machinery at the water-mills of Deh-i-Afghan. The machinery for these mills was set up by a Hindustani, named Muah Khan. He learned his trade from a negro, named Belal, who was taught by one Ibrahim, a native of Ispahan, who came years ago from Persia to the service of Sultan Jan, late Governor of Herat. The gun was then rifled by hand, the breech-block and details completed, polished by machinery, and handed over to the Arsenal. The strength of the guns was never proved by heavy charges being fired out of them, and they were at once taken into use. Out of all the guns I have made only one has burst. I could turn out four or five guns a month if necessary. My pay was Rs. 70 a month, and I occasionally received presents.”
This was not a bad example of what perseverance can accomplish, for the guns manufactured are said by our gunners to be very well made, lacking only finish. The Armstrong breech-loaders would be creditable to an English founder, and we are now testing many of them to see if they cannot be used for the defences of Sherpur. A great number of small brass guns for mountain batteries were also made. The old ordnance was broken up, and new guns were cast in the Bala Hissar Arsenal, the boring and polishing being done at the Deh-i-Afghan water-mills. The alloy in these brass guns contains a larger percentage of copper than we generally use. The water-mills to which reference has been made can still be seen—a huge wheel with a long wooden shaft in which the boring-tool was fixed. With such simple means it seems almost impossible that heavy guns could be bored, but still the work was done, slowly it is true, but effectually.
The manufacture of small-arms was not such a success. Kootub-ud-din, a Cabul gunsmith, was placed in charge of the Bala Hissar Arsenal, and workmen under his direction made 2,000 Sniders and 8,000 Enfields. The Afghans placed but little faith in their imitation of our rifles; they found that the breech-action of the Snider would not act, the extractor often failing to throw out the cartridge-case after firing, while the grooving of the Enfields was so imperfect, that the barrel quickly got “leaded,” i.e. the grooves were filled with lead stripped from the bullet as it was driven out by the charge. It is worth remarking that in the Amir’s palace were found several rifles of different patterns (the French Chassepot among them), and each had its Cabuli imitation. No doubt various experiments were made before the Snider was finally adopted.
There was never any lack of gunpowder in Cabul, as the Amir employed six contractors to turn out the quantities he needed. Each mill could make two maunds a day, and the total daily out-turn on an emergency would be nearly 1,000 lbs. These contractors were also ready to start other smaller mills during war-time, so that doubtless a ton of powder could have been supplied every day as long as funds were forthcoming. The composition of the powder was seventy-five parts of saltpetre, ten of sulphur, and fifteen of charcoal. Bamian supplied the sulphur, with occasional small quantities from Hazara and the Derajat. Saltpetre abounds near Cabul, and excellent charcoal is made from the thousands of small willow-trees which line every watercourse in Chardeh and the near valleys. The coarse-grain powder for muzzle-loading guns was paid for at the rate of Rs. 2 per lb., while that used for breech-loading field-guns and for rifles was Rs. 3 per lb. The powder, as a rule, is far inferior to that of European make, as the Afghans do not understand the final process of glazing, which adds so much to the strength of the composition. Shot and shell were strictly copied from the patterns brought from India, but time-fuses were not understood. A bursting charge—the secret of which was held by a Herati—was used, and not until just before the war of 1879 were fuses made in the Bala Hissar. They are not a success, the delicate nature of the fuse not being properly appreciated. In the matter of small-arm cartridges, the Afghan smiths deserve much credit. Sixty of them were constantly engaged in the Bala Hissar Arsenal making up cartridges, and their Snider ammunition is excellent. The cases are made by hand, and are technically known as “solid cold-drawn brass.” The bases are very strong, and the cases can be refilled many times. In a country where there is no machinery for turning out millions of cartridges in a few days this is a great advantage. Two clever Cabulis, Safi Abdul Latif and Safi Abdul Hak, invented a machine for making percussion caps, equal to turning out 5,000 a day. The detonating composition is fairly good, but spoils if the caps are kept for two or three years. Considering there were millions of caps still in the unopened boxes sent from Dum-Dum Arsenal to Shere Ali, native-made caps were not much needed. Gun carriages and limbers were made on the English pattern, the guns captured in the disastrous business of 1841-42 serving as models in addition to the siege-train given by Lord Mayo.
Among Shere Ali’s other improvements in his “War Department” was the establishment of a Clothing Department, which had for its object the equipment of his soldiers in proper uniforms. The tunics, trousers, kilts, gaiters, helmets, &c., are all neatly made; and as each soldier received a new uniform every two years, the regular regiments ought to have been smart and well set-up. That they were not so was chiefly due to the laxity of discipline and the incompetence of their officers. Pouch-belts and bayonet frogs on the English pattern were served out, and the cavalry were all furnished with new swords, slightly curved like those used by our own sowars. The steel is generally very soft, but the blade is well-tempered, and takes an edge so keen, that even a slight blow leaves a deep gash. Shere Ali’s ambition, while thus perfecting his armament, was to build a fortress of huge dimensions, and Sherpur was accordingly begun. The subsidy paid yearly by the Indian Government gave him money to lavish in this direction, and the cantonments our troops are now occupying were laid out on a scale that even to European ideas seems enormous. The fortress was to have been in the shape of a huge square with walls 3,000 yards long; and on the Bemaru Heights, in the middle, a strong citadel was to have risen—“the New Bala Hissar.” At the foot of the southern slope, below the citadel, a splendid palace was mapped out, the strong foundations of which even now show how imposing the building would have been. Shere Ali’s quarrel with the British put an end to his ambitious schemes, and Sherpur remains to this day incomplete; while away in the Hazara Darukht defile, thousands of logs are lying, ready squared, which the Gajis had got ready for the barracks which will now never be built.
Lieutenant Chamberlain, in summarizing the result of his interesting inquiries into Afghan armaments, makes out the following tabular statement:—
NUMBER OF GUNS PREVIOUS TO WAR OF 1878-79.
English Siege Train (Elephant) 6 Cabuli ” ” ” 10 ” ” ” (Bullock) 18 Horsed Guns ⎛ (Breech-loaders, 89) ⎞⎟ 145 ⎝ (Brass Guns, 56) ⎠ Mountain Guns ⎛ (Breech-loaders, 6) ⎞ ⎜ (Muzzle-loaders, 48) ⎟ 150 ⎝ (Brass, 96) ⎠ Various small guns of Position 50 —— Total 379 Deduct Guns captured, 1879-80 256 —— Guns remaining in Country 123 ——
These are believed to be chiefly in Herat and Turkistan.
The number of rifles entered in the Government books as having been issued to the troops are—
English Sniders 5,000 ” Enfields 15,000 ” Rifled Carbines 1,200 ” Brunswick Rifles 1,400 ” Tower muskets 1,000 ” Cavalry Pistols 1,045 Cabuli Sniders 2,189 ” Enfields 8,212 ” Rifled Carbines 589 Kandahari Enfields 453 Herati Enfields 516 Various kinds for Cavalry (double-barrelled, &c.) 1,553 Smooth-bores (probably many Tower Muskets) 1,418 Flint Muskets 1,300 ———— Total 49,875 ————
Of these 742 English Enfields, 560 English Sniders, and 5,427 muskets, Cabuli Sniders and Enfields, flint muskets, &c., have been given up, leaving 43,146 small-arms in the country.
It is worth noticing that no information could be got as to whence the English rifled carbines, Brunswick rifles, Tower muskets, and cavalry pistols were obtained. The “Brown Besses” were, perhaps, part of those taken in 1841-42. This estimate of arms, it should be remembered, takes no account of the many thousands of jhezails, native pistols, &c., in the hands of the tribesmen. The totals are sufficiently great to prove that the late Shere Ali had placed Afghanistan on such a military footing, that he may well have believed he could, with the mountain barriers between Cabul and India, defy any force the British could spare to send against him. He was grievously mistaken; his weakness lying in the want of discipline among his troops, and the incapacity of their leaders.
The cost of the army which he had raised and equipped was a serious item in his exchequer accounts, if he ever kept any. Lieutenant Chamberlain computes it at 19,21,195 Cabuli rupees, of which Rs. 17,81,238 went for pay to the army, Rs. 1,20,235 for Arsenal expenses (not including Herat and Turkistan), and Rs. 19,727 for uniform. Considering that Major Hastings, Chief Political Officer here, has calculated the whole revenue of Afghanistan at only Rs. 79,82,390, it will thus appear that nearly one-fourth of the revenue was lavished in military (expenditure. The Amir ought reasonably to have expected his army to have made a better defence of his kingdom against invasion than the weak struggle at Ali Musjid and the Peiwar Kotal. After the present campaign, Afghanistan can never hope to rise to the position it occupied under Shere Ali. The easy capture of Cabul and 214 guns is a blow that even a Dost Mahomed would find it hard to recover from. Having dealt with the armaments of Afghanistan, there remains the regular army to be considered. We used to hear a good deal, at first, of the regular army of Afghanistan, which Shere Ali had called into being and drilled according to his idea of European tactics. So many “regiments” with a proportionate number of guns were said to be encamped about Cabul, while others were hurrying in from outlying provinces to swell the assembly. Now there had undoubtedly been a determined effort on Shere Ali’s part to make every male in the population subject to the conscription, and the carefully prepared lists we afterwards found proved that the enrolments had been on a large scale. But there was one fault in the organization which told against all the Amir’s efforts,—and that was the want of competent officers to train the thousands of men who were available for the army. Such officers as were equal to their work were chiefly pensioners of the Indian native army, but these could only teach the sowars and infantry their drill, and could scarcely be expected to manœuvre even a brigade in the field. An intelligent malik once said to a British officer:—“We can never hope to fight you with success until we are educated.” “Well, why not have schools and colleges, such as the Sircar builds in India for the people?” The answer was one given with a half-contemptuous indignation:—“Not that kind of education; I mean until our army is educated, and our officers can do their work as well as yours.” It was military education the petty chief was craving for, and he was unquestionably right in his aspirations. Shere Ali might be able to distribute Enfield and Snider rifles among his sepoys, fit out batteries with every kind of shot and shell, and teach his men such rudimentary discipline as would enable them to march in fairly good order; but he could never get beyond this. Instead of sending his young nobles to Europe to learn the mysteries of military science, he distributed commands among such favourites as were ready to take them with their emoluments; and occasionally he made a good selection from among men of the stamp of Daoud Shah, soldiers of fortune, whose courage was above suspicion, and who could generally keep an army in order. Then there was the childish desire ever uppermost in the Amir’s mind, of clothing his troops in English uniforms, and his “Army Clothing Department” turned out imitation Highland and Rifle costumes, or old Pandy uniforms by the hundred. The plan might have succeeded if less attention had been paid to dress and more to discipline and musketry. The Afghan does not lack native courage, and in hill warfare he is unrivalled so long as it takes the shape of guerilla fighting; but once he is asked to sink his identity and to become merely a unit in a battalion he loses all self-confidence, and is apt to think more of getting away than of stubbornly holding his ground as he would have done with his own friends, led by his own malik or chief. In fact, the late Afghan campaign proved beyond doubt that the Afghan “regulars” had reached that most precarious stage where the men are in a transition state: not yet trained soldiers, but a mob led by strange officers whom they scarcely know, and whom they generally dislike because they are the direct means of imposing the irksomeness of discipline upon them. A tribesman who has never been enrolled is always comforted in action by the thought that if the battle ends disastrously he can make good his escape and probably reach his village in safety, there to play the part of a peaceful peasant proprietor if his civilized enemy visits him afterwards. But the Afghan sepoy is in a very different position: if he is true to his salt he must remain with his regiment and retire in some kind of order, which means to his mind that the pursuing cavalry will have a much better chance of overtaking him. The result of this has been that on nearly every occasion the most obstinate resistance has been offered by tribesmen acting as independent bodies, with no organization, but with a cool courage which made them at times foemen worthy of our steel. To deal more particularly with the merits and weaknesses of the regular troops, and to contrast their work with that of ghazi-led tribesmen, may be of some interest.
Upon Sir Frederick Roberts’s arrival at Charasia, the Herat and other regiments which had been in the neighbourhood of Cabul at the time of the Massacre were induced by Nek Mahomed and other sirdars to oppose the advance of the British force, and a strong position was taken up to prevent the Sang-i-Nawishta defile being forced. Guns were placed in position, commands distributed, and an effort made to fight a battle with some approach to European methods. At the same time regiments were strengthened by a number of the city people and by tribesmen from the Chardeh Valley and Koh-Daman. For all practical purposes, however, the action was fought on the Afghan side by regular troops, and the poor show they made against General Baker’s 2,000 men, gave evidence of the weakness before suspected. Our enemy was well armed with Enfield and Snider rifles, had plenty of ammunition, and was in a position which well-trained troops could have held against great odds; and yet on their left Major White, with 100 Highlanders, drove them from their most advanced position, while on their right the 72nd and 5th Ghoorkas, with a few companies of the 5th P.I. and the 23rd Pioneers (supported only by four mountain guns), turned their flank and drove them in confusion back upon Indikee. Their rifle-fire was well sustained and very rapid, but badly directed and not under control, and our men passed safely upwards with the storm of bullets rushing far above their heads. There was no counter-attack made, although we had practically no supports to fall back upon, and any rush would have involved the brigade in a very awkward position. On the road leading to the Sang-i-Nawishta tangi the enemy had twenty-six or thirty guns opposed to our single battery (G-3), and yet our artillery held its own with ease, and succeeded in dismounting some of their Armstrong breech-loaders. Their leaders had shown great patience and skill in placing their guns on commanding points, but the gunners were firing almost at random, as their training was of a superficial kind. Had the ranges been marked out, as at Ali Musjid, they would have done better; but our rapid advance destroyed what little confidence they might have felt in their own weapons.
Again, on October 8th, they were bold enough to engage in an artillery duel, and from Asmai answered our guns on the Sherderwaza, shot for shot. But not a man was wounded by their fire, although round-shot, shrapnel and common shell were all tried by their leaders. From this moment the Afghan army ceased to exist as a real body, yet in the actions which afterwards took place we had always fiercer fighting and much greater determination shown on the part of the adversary. The sepoys and sowars dispersed to their homes, carrying their arms and ammunition with them, but sinking their drill and discipline and looking upon themselves as once more tribesmen, but better armed than in the days when they had only matchlocks and jhezails as firearms. The rising in December was not a reorganization of the army, but a gathering of all the fighting-men from Ghazni to Charikar in answer to the appeal of the moollahs to their fanaticism. The short-lived success which followed was due chiefly to the leading of the ghazis, who knew no more of generalship or discipline than our own dhoolie-bearers. Occasionally we saw some sort of marshalling going on in the leading lines, in which the best-armed men were placed, but this was due more to the desire on the part of the leaders to make the most of their strength than to any idea of forming the mob into battalions. Mahomed Jan and Mushk-i-Alam trusted to numbers and to fanaticism, not to discipline, to win their battles, and their trust was fully justified. The losses they suffered were proportionately small. Our artillery could never be concentrated on a particular regiment or squadron, but had to be directed upon men in small scattered groups, or on a line extending for many miles across the country. Again, when the unsuccessful attack upon Sherpur was made, the retreat or rather dispersion of the 50,000 men was so rapid, owing to no regular army being with them, that we were powerless to overtake the fugitives; they had spread themselves broadcast over the country, hidden their arms, and had once more begun to play the part of an innocent peasantry.
The reason for the signal failure of Shere Ali’s system is to be found, as I have said, chiefly in the want of skilled leaders, more particularly of regiments; but there is a further explanation, and one which makes intelligible the comparatively slight losses we suffered when our troops were greatly outnumbered. In our own army, even with all the trouble and care devoted to instructing the men in the principles of musketry, the rifle-fire is deplorably bad; thousands of rounds are expended with very poor results, and company officers grow despondent when volley after volley is fired and no impression is made upon the enemy. If this be the case with our well-disciplined troops, it may be readily believed that Afghan sepoys are far worse. I learned from one of them in Cabul that although Enfields and Sniders were served out, each man only received three rounds of ammunition per year with which to gain a knowledge of his weapon, and that consequently they knew practically nothing of the capabilities of their rifles. They felt that at close quarters they might possibly hit their man, but at longer ranges they could not hope to shoot well. Their natural steadiness of hand and perfect eyesight, of course, served them in good stead; but position drill, the manipulation and sighting of the rifle, were generally a mystery to them. This was the cause of defeat when opposed to our regiments, though holding positions, such as the Peiwar and Charasia hills, which were capable of grand defence. For a time they fired rapidly and resolutely, but seeing no effect produced, and our skirmishing line always moving forward, they lost heart and abandoned position after position, until they had at last to make a hasty retreat. Again, with the artillery: to each gun issued from the Bala Hissar Arsenal one cartridge was served out, and when this had been fired and the gun had stood the test, no further practice was allowed. Could the gunners hope to attain proficiency under such conditions? This economy of ammunition was doubtless due to the difficulties of manufacture and the necessity of husbanding cartridges; but it was a short-sighted policy, and one which an Amir at all versed in the art of warfare would never have adopted.
If the time should ever arrive when Afghanistan becomes a protected State under the guidance of the Indian Government, and the people should recognize the advantages to be gained by an alliance with the British, the best plan would be, not to create a regular army, but to turn the population into a huge militia. The peasantry would not object to annual trainings, and if the principle were adopted of issuing breech-loaders only, instructing the men in their use and allowing them a fairly large number of rounds to be fired under the eye of their officers, and not to be retained under any circumstances, a splendid contingent could be formed. The men might retain their rifles, but the reserve ammunition should be stored in such a way that they could not gain access to it. In time of war they would assemble with rifles in their hands, but with empty ammunition pouches; and upon the discretion of our officers would depend the number of rounds to be served out to them. The mercenary army we have raised in India owes its strength to the system of class regiments, and Afghanistan could be similarly dealt with. No combination between Pathans and Hazaras would ever take place, and with the latter kept fully armed and equipped doing garrison duty, the militia could be called out as a Landwehr when occasion arose. These ideas may of course seem to some Quixotic, but perhaps before another generation has passed away they may be realized. If the French can reconcile Arabs to serve in the Algerian army, there should be but little difficulty in creating, hereafter, an Afghan militia—always provided that our influence is supreme in the country, and the kingdom enjoying the benefits of our administration.
When the irregular levies come to be considered, we are bound to admit at once that the fanaticism which animates many of their number often makes them formidable enemies. Their ghazis make splendid leaders in an attack. The word “ghazi” has come to mean in Western eyes something very different from its legitimate signification. It originally meant a conqueror, or great hero, and in this sense it is used in modern Turkey. Osman Pasha was dubbed “Ghazi” when his splendid resistance to the Russians saved for a time the fate of his country; and the title is one held in the highest respect by Mahomedans. From “conqueror” the meaning has passed into lower grades, one of the commonest being “a gallant soldier” (especially combating infidels); and at last, in the common course of events, it has been appropriated in the all-comprehensive vocabulary of the English language with a distinct and localized meaning. To us, now, a ghazi is simply a man upon whom fanaticism has had so powerful an effect that all physical fear of death is swamped in his desire to take the life of a Kafir, and, with his soul purified by the blood of the unbeliever, to be translated at once to Paradise. A true ghazi counts no odds too great to face, no danger too menacing to be braved: the certainty of death only adds to his exaltation; and, as in the case of other madmen, desperation and insensibility to consequences add enormously to his muscular powers and endurance. To kill such a man is sometimes so difficult a task at close quarters, that our men have learned to respect their peculiar mode of fighting, and a rifle-bullet at a fair distance checks the ghazi’s course before he can close upon his assailants with the terribly sharp knife he knows so well how to use. If every Afghan were a ghazi, as I once said during the siege of Sherpur, our defences would have been carried, and enormous slaughter would have followed on both sides; but ghazis are few and far between, though a spurious imitation is not uncommon. This imitation is often taken for the real article, whereas bhang or some other stimulant is the motive power, and not desperate fanaticism. The misuse of the word “ghazi” is strikingly seen in the accounts of the last war forty years ago. We are told of bands of ghazis, many thousands strong, harassing the retreating army and cutting off stragglers; and these ghazis are always spoken of as being quite out of the control of Akhbar Khan. If they had been true ghazis they would have made short work of our little army long before it reached the Khurd Cabul. Their fanaticism would have carried them into the midst of the soldiers; for what resistance can be made to madmen who desire death, and have thrown all thoughts of retreat to the winds? Only a few weeks after the dispersion of Mahomed Jan’s army from before Sherpur, absurd alarmist telegrams were circulated in India and England of a gathering of 20,000 ghazis on the Ghazni Road, only fifty miles from Cabul, and another disaster was foretold by every croaker, who found as much comfort in the awful word “ghazi” as did the old woman in many-syllabled Mesopotamia. If that number of ghazis had been within fifty miles of us, we might, indeed, have had our work cut out for us; but not in the whole of Afghanistan could so many be found. It is not given to every man to rise to such a pitch of religious exaltation, and fortunate for an “infidel” army it is not. To see how thousands of ghazis are always being spoken of, one would imagine they were a powerful clan, similar to the Ghilzais, Kohistanis, or Afridis. Just as the shining light of a missionary meeting at home described “zenana missions” as being missions sent to “Zenana, a district of Northern India, fruitful and densely-populated, but with its wretched inhabitants steeped in heathen ignorance,” so do sensation-mongers dress out these ghazis as a distinct section of Pathans, who gather together in their thousands whenever there is an appeal to arms. To them it would seem as easy to collect ghazis as to gather grapes—and certainly the two products are noteworthy enough in this sterile country—but practical acquaintance with the form fanaticism assumes about Cabul shows only too clearly that out of a crowd of 50,000 armed fanatics, such as lately held Cabul, not one in a hundred rises to the supreme rank of a ghazi. They are not born and bred to the vocation: chance makes them what they are, and our men know that a stray spark of enthusiasm may kindle their fanaticism and send them into our midst. The ghazi in Afghanistan, his true abode, answers to the assassin in Western countries, where enthusiasm in religious or political matters arouses him to shoot a priest at the altar, or stab a king in his palace. How the ghazi, the “conqueror of death,” as he deserves to be called, rises into being may be told with sufficient local colouring to make the story more than commonplace.
An infidel army is in occupation of the country, and under the outward cloak of sudden submission is hidden deep hatred of the intruders on account of race and religion. In every village and hamlet the men listen eagerly to the preaching of the moollahs, who stir up their passions by lying stories of the coming time when their religion will be insulted and their zenanas violated by the Kafirs. The appeal is made first to the two objects most precious in the eyes of an Afghan or of any other Mahomedan—his faith and his women. When passions have been deeply enough stirred, the moollah warms to his work. A Koran, wrapped and rewrapped in silks, and carefully protected from defiling influences, is drawn from the priest’s breast, and every passage imposing upon true Mahomedans the duty of destroying all unbelievers is quoted with vehement eloquence. The moollah is to these ignorant peasants the link between this world and the next; in him they place all trust; and as they listen to his fierce harangues, they are ready to do all that he requires of them. He is vested with mysterious attributes, rising occasionally to miracle-working; and with quiet assurance he promises that, if they attack the infidels “in the proper spirit and in full faith,” bullets shall turn harmlessly aside, bayonets shall not pierce them, and their poshteens thrown over the cannon’s mouth shall check shot and shell. The priesthood in all ages have traded upon the credulity of the people, and have abused their power without qualms of conscience to obtain their ends. Is it any more wonderful that an Afghan tribesman, shut out from the wonders of the outer world, should believe the clap-trap of his priest, than that highly-cultured scholars in the full glare of civilization should accept the dogmas of Papal Infallibility, or a crowd of devotees watch with awe-stricken faces the liquefaction, periodically, of the blood of a saint dead and gone ages ago? Yet such things have been in modern Europe, and the world has forgotten to smile. The moollah is merely a clever trickster in his own sphere, though, like many other priests, he comes often to believe in his own supernatural powers, and then sinks to the level of his followers. And the ghazi is the creature of the moollah. The latter’s eloquence is listened to by some more than usually susceptible villager, whose enthusiasm is aroused to fever heat by a glowing story of a ghazi, who went into the infidel camp, cut down two or three Kafirs, and died the death of a martyr, his soul going straight to the laps of the houris, and his name living for ever among his kindred. Shall he not emulate such a glorious example, so that his children and his children’s children may hand down his name to all generations as a Ghazi Allah-din—a “Champion of the Faith?” The moollah’s preaching has had its effect, and a ghazi has been called into being. If a great jehad is being preached, that man will always be in the forefront of the battle, and will probably carry the standard of his clan, blessed by the moollah who has aroused the tribesmen. The fiery cross, which was sped from end to end of the Scottish Highlands in the old days, when the call to arms was made, was no more powerful than is the Koran now, carried from village to village by the moollah of Afghanistan. But a few weeks ago the arch-moollah, Mushk-i-Alam, sent out his message from Charkh, and how well it was responded to we are living witnesses. With ghazis in their midst to lead the timorous, and moollahs always at hand to fan their fanaticism, Mahomed Jan’s rabble did wonders. How the ghazis acquitted themselves our men well know—many poor fellows to their cost.
In the action in the Chardeh Valley the standard-bearers rushed on even when our cavalry charged, and no more reckless rush was ever made. Many went down, but about them were others equal in desperation. A trooper of the 9th transfixed a man with his lance: the ghazi wriggled up like an eel, grasped the lance with his left hand, and, with one stroke of the knife, cut through the lancer’s hand and the tough shaft as it had been of tinder. This is not romancing: the trooper is still living, but minus the fingers of his right hand. On the 13th December, when the 92nd Highlanders stormed the Takht-i-Shah Peak, isolated bands of ghazis stood to their posts when their comrades were in full retreat, and were shot and bayoneted in desperate hand-to-hand encounters. On the 14th the ghazis were so prominent that Mahomed Jan owed all his success to their daring leadership up the Asmai Heights, although many a white-clothed figure went down before that success was gained. In the early part of the day the last sungar on the Asmai Heights was held by a score of these fanatics when all else had fled. The banners were planted on the rude stone walls; and when Colonel Brownlow and the Highlanders made the final rush, the scene was an exciting one. What could be finer than the desperate leap out of the sungar by the ghazi who attacked Lance-Corporal Seller, our first man forward? Nothing but fanatical madness could have drawn a man from the temporary shelter of the sungar while there was still a chance of escape down the hill; the ghazi fulfilled his kismut; so let us hope all is well with him. Then, when the enemy streamed out from Indikee into the Chardeh Valley, and came straight upon the hills held by our troops, their standard-bearers, chiefly ghazis, were well in front, and the rush upwards was led by these men, who at times were 100 yards in front of the main body. When our men were forced back from the conical hill, the ghazis were the first to crown the rocks; and the splendid way in which they planted their standards on the Asmai Heights as the Highlanders and Guides were withdrawn was worthy of all respect. The steady volleys of Colonel Brownlow’s men kept back the main body; but yard by yard, as our soldiers fell back, flags were pushed up from behind protecting rocks, their bearers being at times within fifty paces of our rifles. With such leaders, even cowards must have rushed on, and it must have been a proud moment for the ghazis when they held the crest of the hill, and watched our troops slowly filing off into Sherpur.
They played the same prominent part during the siege, but they were ill-supported, and though a few succeeded once in placing a flag within 250 yards of the corner bastion looking towards Deh-i-Afghan, not a man remained, when night fell, to remove their cherished trophy: our Martinis had proved too fatal at so short a range. In the final assault on December 23rd the fanatical leaders were again in the van; and if they had been followed by the thousands who hung back so irresolutely, then there might have been a hand-to-hand fight in our trenches. In isolated instances, a ghazi would be seen within a few score yards of our defences, only to go down riddled through and through, though one more desperate than his companions reached the abattis, and had begun to pull away the intercepting branches, when he also was shot. To quote more instances of the audacity of the ghazi would be useless. I have said enough to prove his recklessness, and to show that, with an army of such men against us, even our splendid arms and steady discipline might avail nothing. But the true ghazi is a phenomenon—he at least deserves the scientific and sonorous title—and even Afghan fanaticism cannot bring forth many, however great may be the eloquence of the moollahs. Of the more despicable ghazi—the man who runs amuck in an infidel camp or waylays a Kafir in the streets of a city—I have nothing to say. Cabul has been free from such pests, and we do not wish to hear the cry of “ghazi!” raised. The fanatic generally takes so much killing that our revolver ammunition would run short were he to put in an appearance periodically.
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Chapter XXIV
The Outlook at Cabul in February—Appointment of Mr. Lepel Griffin to be Chief Political Officer—Abdur Rahman Khan in Badakshan—Nek Mahomed in Turkistan—Probable Movements of the Two Sirdars—Biography of Abdur Rahman Khan—His Struggle with Shere Ali—Takes Refuge with the Russians in Turkistan—Sir Richard Pollock’s Estimate of his Character—His Relations with the Russians—Biography of Mushk-i-Alam, the Moollah—His Power over the Tribes—Mahomed Hasan Khan’s Life—His Russian Proclivities—Asmatullah Khan and the Northern Ghilzais—Daoud Shah’s Career—Serves under Akhbar Khan and Shere Ali—Reasons for his Deportation to India.
It would be scarcely worth while to reproduce letters which dealt chiefly with current rumours of Mahomed Jan’s movements, and I will therefore only give extracts sufficient to make clear the course of events. Our Governor of Kohistan was never able to get beyond Baba Kuch Kar, and Mahomed Jan’s agents in Logar, Wardak, and Maidan were constantly heard of. Writing on February 1, I said:—
It seems likely that we shall have to visit Ghazni, which is now the head-quarters of the malcontents, unless some declaration of policy by the Home Government puts an end to our occupation of Cabul. General Roberts has asked for the heavy battery to be sent up from Peshawur, and with three 40-pounders and two 8-inch howitzers, we could batter the Ghazni fortress about the ears of its defenders. In Sherpur the guns captured from the enemy in October are being tried, and a certain number found serviceable are being put in order. Some garrison artillerymen from Peshawur are being sent up, and will form our garrison battery here.
The political dead-lock remains unchanged. Our policy of “benevolent inactivity” has not altogether pleased some of the local sirdars, who are nothing, if not place-hunters. They have seen Wali Mahomed made Governor of Cabul, and no doubt it was expected that positions of “trust” would be assigned to them. But they have been disappointed, and, in return, have vented their anger and disgust by posting four or five seditious placards on the walls of the city. The tenor of these was to point out how much better off the people were under the old Amirs than under General Roberts, whom they accuse of sinning “through foolishness and ignorance”—perhaps of their own personal wants. Such abuse hurts no one, and can have but little effect upon the popular mind, for there can be no mistake as regards our leniency towards Cabul itself. The appointment of Mr. Lepel Griffin to be Chief Political Officer here has been announced by the Government of India, and has given general satisfaction in cantonments, as the political work now done by the General will be minimized, and his hands will be free to deal more fully with matters purely military. One thing is fervently desired, and that is that Mr. Lepel Griffin will come with a programme of policy in his pocket, as it is too aggravating to have a General and his army in the unpleasant position of a ship at sea without orders: liable to be knocked about by every gale that blows, and yet without any port to make for. The best crew in the world would grow discontented under such circumstances. We have had our buffeting, and have weathered it, and now we should like fair weather and clear instructions as to our future destination.
16th February.
It is rather difficult at present to follow the movements of Abdur Rahman Khan, whose name now is oftener in men’s mouths than that of any other Afghan chief of importance. As I predicted, Abdur Rahman seems likely to play a leading part in Afghanistan, and his reported arrival in Badakshan shows that his influence may be felt upon local politics at any moment. We have always had much trouble in getting news of Turkistan affairs; and though we heard from European telegrams that Abdur Rahman had been dismissed by the Russians, and had started to try his fortunes again in Afghanistan, we could not gain trustworthy reports of his arrival south of the Oxus. Once, it is true, he was said to be at Balkh; but no confirmation of the report was forthcoming, and it was soon disbelieved. Now, at last, we have new accounts of his movements. Merchants in Cabul have received letters from agents at Balkh, in which it is distinctly stated that the exiled son of Mir Afzul Khan is in Badakshan, with 3,000 Turcomans, and is preparing to make good his claims to the Amirship. Without jumping to any rash conclusions, it may be possible to explain clearly enough the train of circumstances which have brought Abdur Rahman once more to the front. The death of Shere Ali and the accession of Yakub Khan might have tempted him to make another effort for the throne; but without the assistance and countenance of Russia he could scarcely hope to be successful. To raise an army money is needed; and though the Russians were considerate enough to pay the exiled prince a liberal pension, they were too anxious to keep on good terms with England to subsidize a pretender to the Amirship just when the Treaty of Gundamak had been signed. Abdur Rahman may have been convinced, also, that Yakub Khan would never be strong enough to carry out the treaty, and that his downfall, either at the hands of his own subjects or of the British, would leave Cabul open to other competitors. The massacre of our Envoy, the march of Sir F. Roberts’s force upon Cabul, and the dispersion of the rebel army, followed each other so rapidly that the country was paralysed, as far as active resistance went. The flight of Nek Mahomed (uncle of Abdur Rahman) to Russian territory was the signal for the collapse of the Afghan army, and doubtless the fugitive General warned his nephew that, to attempt any campaign while the British were posing as the protectors of Yakub Khan and the conquerors of Cabul would be little short of madness. Besides, if Yakub Khan were to be reinstated, and his rule made secure by a new British alliance, rebellion against him would be full of danger. That, in case of certain contingencies, a plan of action was arranged between Abdur Rahman and Nek Mahomed would appear certain; and it is half-suspected that Russian sympathy was freely extended to them, and a hint given that practical aid would also be afforded when the plan was ripe for execution. They were waiting upon Providence; and the first reward for their patience was the deportation of Yakub Khan to India on December 1st, and the assumption by the British of the temporary sovereignty of Cabul. The Amirship thus became vacant; and Abdur Rahman, as the son of Mir Afzul Khan, eldest son of Dost Mahomed, could fairly lay claim to the throne. Yakub Khan’s son was a mere child; there was no one of any great influence in the British camp who could hope to be successful as Amir; and who so likely to be welcomed by the people as Abdur Rahman, a favourite alike with the army and the tribes? The jehad preached by Mushk-i-Alam, and the temporary success of Mahomed Jan’s army at Sherpur, must have more than ever convinced the exiles that their chance had come and their plan might be put to the test. What that plan was can only be judged by after-events; but its broad outlines seem to have been the raising and equipping of a body of Turcoman horse and the crossing of the Oxus at two points. Abdur Rahman directed his steps towards Badakshan, where his wife’s kinsmen are in power; while Nek Mahomed passed into Turkistan by the Kilif ferry, fifty miles north-west of Balkh. Abdur Rahman’s force is said to have been 2,000 or 3,000 Turcoman horsemen; and his treasure-chest, by native report, contained 12 lakhs of rupees in Bokhara gold tillahs when he crossed the river. Nek Mahomed’s escort is also made up of Turcomans; and his object seems to be to gain over Gholam Hyder, Governor of Turkistan, while Abdur Rahman raises levies in Badakshan. A powerful combination would thus be formed north of the Hindu Kush; and by the spring, which brings with it the melting of the snows and the opening of the Passes about Charikar and Bamian, the pretender to the throne should have under his orders a well-equipped and numerous army. Perhaps the most important work to be done before Abdur Rahman could move out of Badakshan was the gaining of Gholam Hyder’s co-operation. In a letter written two months ago I showed that the Governor of Turkistan really held only the country south of the Oxus between Aebak and Akcha; a Kirghiz chief having raided into the districts west of Akcha, while the Khan of Kunduz (120 miles east of Balkh) was supreme in the hill-country between Aebak and Badakshan. Gholam Hyder’s power lies mainly in his possession of one or two field batteries, and in having under his orders several regiments of cavalry and infantry, many of whom are well-armed with rifles made on English patterns. From reports which have reached Cabul it would appear that he was very uneasy when the fact of Abdur Rahman’s and Nek Mahomed’s presence to east and west of him became known. He was at first doubtful of their intentions, and, as a precautionary measure, massed his cavalry and guns at Mazar-i-Sharif, one march south-east of Balkh. In the meantime Abdur Rahman, with the aid of his 12 lakhs (of which it is shrewdly suspected that at least half was given to him as a subsidy by the Russians), was making it clear in the eyes of the Badakshanis that his new expedition was something more than a visionary attempt to regain Cabul. One of his wives is a daughter of Jehandar Shah, late Mir of Badakshan, whose son now governs at Faizabad, the capital of this northern province. So successful has Abdur Rahman been, that he has not only won over the Badakshanis, but also the Khan of Kunduz, who has offered him help in his new venture. Rumour also states that Gholam Hyder has cast in his lot with the pretender, and that an amicable meeting between their forces is to take place at Mazar-i-Sharif. Of course it is possible that affairs have not run so smoothly as represented; but still native rumour is wonderfully correct as a rule, and the appearance of Abdur Rahman is a new and most important factor in the Afghan problem. He has with him Ishak Khan, son of Sirdar Azim Khan, who was Amir for a short time when Shere Ali’s fortunes were at their lowest ebb. I have before spoken of Abdur Rahman’s popularity, and his soldierly qualities are universally acknowledged. What his future plans may be can only be conjectured. The timid and characterless sirdars we have now with us are rather alarmed at his approach, and their uneasiness is, perhaps, justifiable. Probably, in the spring, he may march an army from Balkh through Khulm, Aebak, and Saighan to Bamian, or he may try the more easterly route over the Hindu Kush to Charikar and Kohistan. What our course of action will be in such a case I am not prepared to say; but that Abdur Rahman may yet be Amir of Afghanistan is quite within the range of possibility. But for the fatal taint of Russian influence which it is only fair to suppose has affected his character during his stay in Tashkend, he would make a nominee whom we could trust, for his ability is beyond question.
The following is a short sketch of his life—a life which has been stormy even for an Afghan prince. His father was Mahomed Afzul Khan, eldest son of the Dost Mahomed; but on his mother’s side he has Populzai blood in his veins. In 1863-64, when the death of the Dost had rendered the throne vacant, Afzul Khan, as eldest son of the deceased Amir, objected to his claims being set aside in favour of his younger half-brother, Shere Ali, and soon the country was in a state of civil war. Abdur Rahman was placed by his father in charge of Takhtipul, in Turkistan, and showed some genius as a soldier, but was eventually obliged to confess himself beaten by Shere Ali’s forces. He made a half-hearted submission, and, being suspected of still intriguing in favour of his father, was summoned to Cabul. This order he refused to obey; but, dreading the consequences, fled across the Oxus into Bokhara, where many other sirdars had taken refuge. Turkistan was still very unsettled, and Abdur Rahman induced many of the garrison of Balkh to desert Shere Ali and cross into Bokhara. The Amir of that Khanate openly espoused his cause, and aided him in many ways. With a small, but well-equipped, force he at last recrossed the Oxus and made for Akcha, then in charge of Faiz Mahomed Khan. The latter, finding himself unequal to any successful resistance, threw over Shere Ali and united his garrison with the force from Bokhara. The Governor of Turkistan, Fateh Mahomed Khan, was not so easily won over, and resisted the new army. His soldiers, however, proved faithless; and, leaving them to continue their own course of action, he fled from Turkistan. Abdur Rahman thus found himself, in a few weeks, at the head of a fairly powerful army; and, pushing on to Takhtipul, he resumed his old position as Governor. Turkistan had thus fallen easily into his hands, and so striking was his success, that he resolved upon a march to Cabul. His uncle, Azim Khan, a man of some ability, joined him; and Shere Ali, still having with him Afzul Khan, a prisoner, was forced to leave his capital. On the 24th of February Abdur Rahman entered the city without opposition; but he had still to deal with Shere Ali, who was collecting an army in the South. In May the two armies came into collision at Sheikhabad, on the Ghazni Road, and Abdur Rahman gained a complete victory. His father was released, and was proclaimed Amir in place of Shere Ali. But Afzul Khan, a confirmed drunkard, was but a weak and incapable ruler, and his brother, Azim Khan, practically held all power in his hands. Abdur Rahman then, full of energy and flushed with success, tried to counteract his uncle’s schemes; and the quarrel might have widened into a serious breach between the two had not the presence of Shere Ali, with a second army at Candahar, made it imperative to sink all differences before a common danger. Uncle and nephew again took the field, and marching southwards through Ghazni, met and defeated Shere Ali’s army at Khelat-i-Ghilzai. This was on the 16th of January, 1867. But opposition still had to be encountered, Faiz Mahomed, half-brother of Shere Ali, having raised another army in support of the ex-Amir’s cause. Abdur Rahman was again successful in his military operations, defeating Faiz Mahomed at Kila Allahdad on the 17th September, 1867. But, while thus fighting with invariable success for his father, he had to meet the designs of his uncle, whose ambition was to be himself Amir. Afzul Khan died in Cabul while his son was absent with the army; and when Abdur Rahman returned to the capital, he found his uncle, Azim Khan, in possession of the throne. The old quarrels broke out afresh, Abdur Rahman naturally feeling aggrieved that, after all his successes, the Amirship had slipped through his hands. Again fresh complications in Turkistan saved an open rupture: Abdur Rahman started for the northern province and tried to subdue the Usbeg chiefs. In this he was unsuccessful, the Mir of Maemena, a district between Balkh and Herat, sturdily resisting all attack, and eventually forcing Abdur Rahman to fall back upon Takhtipul. The absence of the young soldier in the north had been Shere Ali’s opportunity. His forces were successful in Western Afghanistan, and he was soon de facto Amir. Abdur Rahman’s position in Turkistan then became untenable; his soldiers, hearing that Shere Ali was once more in possession of Cabul, lost heart and deserted; and in January 1869, in conjunction with Azim Khan, he was once more a fugitive. After Azim Khan had appealed to the Indian Government for help, and had been refused, the two sirdars sought refuge in Persia, and afterwards, in the trans-Oxus Khanates. Azim Khan died in October 1869; and Abdur Rahman, still entertaining his idea of regaining Cabul, went to Khiva. Here his intrigues to raise a force with which to conquer Afghan-Turkistan met with such slight success that he turned his steps to Bokhara. Living as a refugee in that Khanate was Jehandar Shah, ex-Mir of Badakshan. This chief had heartily aided Afzul Khan in his struggle for the throne, and to cement the alliance had given his sister in marriage to Azim Khan, and his daughter to Abdur Rahman. Shere Ali, in August 1869, induced the Badakshan sirdars to depose Jehandar Shah, who was imprisoned in his own capital of Faizabad. He persuaded his late subjects to grant his release, and crossed the Oxus to Kulab, where Abdur Rahman joined him. Their intrigues to gain possession of Badakshan were on the basis of raising a force of Turcomans on the north, while the Mir of Maemena, with an army of Usbegs, co-operated with them from the west through Balkh and Kunduz. The want of money was a great obstacle to success, and Abdur Rahman conceived the idea of supplicating aid from Russia. While Jehandar Shah went to Chitral, to seek aid from Aman-ul-Mulk, chief of that country, Abdur Rahman left Bokhara for Samarcand, and reached Tashkend in May 1870. General Kaufmann received him hospitably, but was deaf to all his appeals for troops to aid him in conquering Afghan-Turkistan. A pension of about £5,000 sterling was assigned to him, but a refusal was given to his request to visit St. Petersburg and represent his case to the Czar. When Schuyler saw him he expressed a confident belief that with £50,000 to raise and equip an army he could once more make himself supreme in Afghanistan. With this one idea in his mind he was saving nine tenths of his pension, and hinted that, under favourable conditions, he might be aided by Russia. Jehandar Shah, after raising an unsuccessful insurrection in Badakshan in 1878, joined his son-in-law at Samarcand in 1875, but has since died.
Of Abdur Rahman’s character I have spoken in a previous letter; and the following estimate of his ability by Sir Richard Pollock, late Commissioner of Peshawur, is worth quoting as somewhat confirming my view. Sir Richard Pollock writes:—“Abdur Rahman was well thought of as a soldier and commander when in charge of the army, but showed less talent for administrative work. He has now lost all his possessions, both at his home and his place of refuge, and has no resources by which he could collect a party. Without help as to money or arms, he could do nothing. If supplied with money by Russia or Bokhara, and promised a backing, he might attempt to recover his position. Probably, such an attempt would be unsuccessful, if made in the Amir’s (Shere Ali) lifetime. If later, after the Amir’s death, and when Turkistan had Mir Alam Khan as Governor, or some equally corrupt, incapable person, the issue might be in Abdur Rahman’s favour, as far as Turkistan is concerned. On the Amir’s death such an attempt may be looked upon as likely, unless a good Governor should previously have taken Mir Alam’s place. Abdur Rahman’s influence has already declined rapidly, and fortune is never likely to favour him again to the extent it did when he was fighting for Azim and Afzul. There was strong sympathy on the part of the nation for the elder sons, who had been set aside by the Dost in favour of Shere Ali Khan. Besides, the King of Bokhara afforded assistance, which he is not likely now or later to give.” This memorandum was written before the breach between Shere Ali and the Indian Government; but its remarks are still applicable. Abdur Rahman seems, without doubt, to have been supplied with means by the Russians, and he has an “incapable person” Governor of Turkistan—Gholam Hyder; so that it would not be unlikely if he possessed himself of the northern province in a few months. The old sympathy in his favour may once more be revived, and we could scarcely dispute his authority, unless we were prepared to begin a campaign viâ Bamian in the spring. If Abdur Rahman is ambitious enough not only to claim Turkistan, but Cabul also, we shall either have to meet his forces in the field, or to offer him the Amirship and our support in the future. Whether he would prefer England to Russia yet remains to be seen.
What Abdur Rahman’s relations have been with the Russians—and, perhaps, still are—may be judged from a letter, written in May 1878, by Shahgassi Sherdil Khan, then Governor of Afghan-Turkistan. He says:—
“Mirza Salahuddin, whom I deputed towards Samarcand and Tashkend to collect news from those directions, has returned and made a statement, to the effect that the Russians intend to induce Abdur Rahman Khan to submit to them a petition, setting forth that he has been putting up there a long time under the protection of the Russian Government; that he has often petitioned them to help him in securing the restitution of his ancestral territory from the Amir of Cabul, but his prayer has not been acceded to; and that he has now heard that the Russians are preparing to fight against the British Government; that they have sent envoys to wait upon the Amir to request him to allow passage through his country to the Russian troops going to India and returning therefrom, should a necessity arise for such a passage; and that, such being the case, he offered his services in case His Highness refuses to grant the request of the Russian Government to capture Balkh with a small assistance from the Czar, and then subdue the whole of Afghanistan, which is not a difficult task.”
The conditions are certainly altered now, as Russia is not meditating any such Quixotic campaign as an advance upon India; but Abdur Rahman may still be credited with a desire “to capture Balkh with a small assistance from the Czar, and then subdue the whole of Afghanistan.” In any settlement we may intend making, it would be folly to ignore his existence altogether. If we are not prepared to break up his army and drive him back over the Oxus, we had better give him frankly a chance of stating his case. He might by judicious management—say the promise of a large annual subsidy—prove the best man we could place in power as successor of the incapable Yakub Khan.
While on the subject of biography, I may as well give a slight sketch of the lives of some of the men who have recently played a prominent part in Afghan politics. We have been so shut off from Afghanistan for many years, that, except in a few confidential reports furnished to Government by officers on the frontier, but little has been made known of the character and power of Afghan sirdars and chiefs. Even the Peshawur Diary, which has received contributions from men of the stamp of Sir Richard Pollock and Sir Louis Cavagnari, is a sealed book to all but a few favoured officials; and as many of the communications to it are of a secret nature, it would be idle to expect that its contents can ever become generally known. During our present occupation of Cabul, Major Hastings, Chief Political Officer, has been able to collect some data upon which trustworthy biographies have been founded of the chiefs and others who have been hostile to us. Incidentally, it has been found that our Afghan friends have some marvellous pedigrees, one old gentleman claiming direct descent from Adam himself—an ancestor, perhaps, as respectable—all circumstances considered—as any he could have fallen back upon. An Afghan genealogical tree is a fearful instrument of torture to apply to the minds of our young “politicals,” for the same name occurs over and over again generation after generation, and the weakness of the men for taking wives of varied nationality causes obscure relationships, which are most difficult to follow. It would be useless to give genealogies of men who are only of importance as regards their own acts and personal influence; and in now dealing with several of the best known names in Afghanistan I shall merely summarize their pedigrees. The moollah who raised the late jehad deserves first place, and I will begin with a sketch of his life.
Din Mahomed, known as Muskh-i-Alam (the “Scent of the World”), belongs to the Sayids of Hindustan, but his father’s name is unknown. His ancestors were Khwaja Khel, a section of the Lukhan Khel of the Andar tribe, south of Ghazni. He married and settled in Afghanistan, first studying under Mahomed Wasil, Kakar, resident of the village of Kala Ali, in the Shilgarh district, south-east of Ghazni. In the prosecution of his studies as a moollah he next went to Lughman, and lived in the house of one Abdul Hakim, a priest, from whom he gained most of his knowledge. In his zeal for learning he travelled to Peshawur and lived with Abdul Malik, Akhundzada. Returning to Afghanistan, he again read with Abdul Hakim for about two years, when his master died, leaving two young sons. Din Mahomed remained with them for a few years, to protect their lives and property, and his devotion had its reward. A learned and influential man, named Mahomed Aslam, Sahibazda, a nephew of the deceased moollah, Abdul Karim, took notice of him, and gave him shelter, at the same time teaching him all he knew. In course of time Mahomed Aslam nominated Din Mahomed as his successor. So far his life had been that of an ordinary moollah, one of great simplicity and occasional hardship. But we now find him showing signs of great zeal and energy. A war broke out against the Kafiristanis, and he joined Haji Taj Mahomed Saib, known as Haji Shahid (a descendant of one Haji Mahomed Said, of Lahore, who had settled in the Surkhrud district of Jellalabad). Taj Mahomed was killed at Pashgarh, and Din Mahomed carried his body on his own shoulders to the shrine of Abdul Karim, in Lughman. Thence he carried it in the same fashion to Taj Mahomed’s own village of Masti Khel, where he buried it. This devotion caused his name to become well known in Western Afghanistan, and his fame as a moollah rose accordingly. He returned to his own part of the country, near Ghazni, and was for years engaged in teaching others. Nearly all the moulvis of the Cabul and Ghazni districts are pupils of his, and his influence over such powerful tribes as the Ghilzais, Lughmanis, and Mohmunds, has been and is very great. The late jehad, which was certainly one of the most successful ever preached in Afghanistan, was due to his summoning the tribes to arms; and it is worth noticing that, while Sherpur was being besieged by the tribes in its immediate locality, the Lughmanis, under Asmatullah Khan, tried to block the Passes, and the Mohmunds made a diversion on our lower line of communications. Mushk-i-Alam is now ninety years of age, and has lately shown signs of approaching death. Ten years ago he was still hale and strong, and took to himself a young Mohmund wife, who bore him a son, who is still alive, and is called Abdur Rahman. This son is actually younger than one of his grandsons, who is twenty years of age. Mushk-i-Alam has two sons, Abdul Aziz and Abdul Karim, aged fifty and forty-five respectively, and these men are most active in carrying out their father’s orders, the old man himself being unable to rise from his bed, except when urgent occasion gives him passing strength.
A man of great ability, now at enmity with us, is Mirza Mahomed Hasan Khan, Dabir-ul-Mulk, late Governor of Jellalabad, who is acting as Mahomed Jan’s lieutenant in Logar, and has shown great zeal in his efforts to renew the attack upon Sherpur. He is one of three grandsons of Haji Aka Ashur, called Shamilo Turk-i-Rum. Hasan Khan has long been a prominent figure in the Cabul Court. He first served as an officer under Sirdar Gholam Hyder Khan, and, upon the latter’s death, was transferred to the Amir Shere Ali Khan, whom he accompanied to the Umballa Conference in 1869. The Amir, on returning to Cabul, appointed him “Dabir-ul-Mulk,” or Secretary of State, and for several years he was his sovereign’s chief confidant and counsellor. He was privy to all Shere Ali’s intrigues with the Russians, and seems to have been a most trusted agent. Upon the death of Naib Mahomed Aslem, Governor of Turkistan, who was accidentally killed by the kick of a horse, he was appointed, conjointly with Eshak Akasi (Shaghassi) Sherdil Khan, Governor of Turkistan. The Russian Mission soon afterwards arrived on the banks of the Oxus, and Hasan Khan was deputed to accompany its members to Cabul. Further, when General Stolietoff started on his return journey, Hasan Khan accompanied him, and journeyed as far as Tashkend. What his instructions were from Shere Ali may never be known; but it is interesting to learn that, during the first campaign in November and December, 1878, Shere Ali had one of his ministers in Russian Turkistan. Upon the Amir’s arrival in full flight at Mazar-i-Sharif, Hasan Khan joined him. Shere Ali had then great hope that the Russians would aid him, and he sent Hasan Khan, Shere Ali Kandahari, Moollah Shah Mahomed, and Kazi Abdul Kadir to Tashkend. Their mission was a failure, and they returned to Turkistan. When news of the Amir’s death reached Tashkend Yakub Khan recalled Hasan Khan from Balkh, and made him again Dabir-ul-Mulk. He was afterwards sent to Jellalabad as Governor, and remained at his post as long as Yakub Khan was in our camp at Sherpur. Upon the ex-Amir being deported to India, Hasan Khan fled from Jellalabad, taking with him a lakh of rupees—revenue which he had collected for his master. He reached Ghazni in safety, and has since been actively engaged in recruiting for Mahomed Jan. He is a man of great ability and keenness, and is said to be ready to take any views which may suit his purpose. This has been shown of late by his sending in messengers to learn how he would be treated if he made submission to the British. There is no doubt that at heart he is thoroughly Russian, his favourite uniform, when in full dress, being that of the Russian staff. In any dealings we may have with him, it will behove us to be on our guard against this side of his character. He has two brothers; one Ali Ahmed Khan, a colonel in a cavalry regiment, and the other Mahomed Ibrahim Khan, once Governor of Hazara. He has seven sons, who are as yet of no consequence.
A tribal chief, who, on the Jellalabad side and about the Passes has given us great trouble, is Asmatullah Khan, Ghilzai, of Lughman. He has far more influence among the Ghilzais than any other leader, Padshah Khan being a very small person compared with the Lughman chief. Asmatullah Khan’s family history affords a striking instance of the feuds which are so common in Afghanistan, where father fights against son, and brother against brother, as if ties of blood were of no consequence. Asmatullah Khan’s ancestors are of the Mariam Khel, a subdivision of the Jabbar Khel section of the Ghilzai tribe. They are called Mariam Khel, after the name of the mother, Mariam corresponding to the scriptural Miriam, just as Ibrahim answers to Abraham and Ismail to Ishmael. In the year of the Hejira 1157 (A.D. 1740), when Ahmed Shah was Amir, Safa Khan, who had succeeded his father, Ashak Khan, as chief of the Mariam Khel, was dispossessed of his Khanship owing to heterodoxy in his religious views. His nephew, Mahomed Ali Khan, succeeded him. But about A.H. 1184, when Taimur Shah was King, it was found that this man was such a tyrant that he also had to be thrust out of power. Taimur Shah was anxious for Safa Khan to resume the Khanship, and he did so; but, on the day of his resumption of power, Mahomed Ali Khan murdered him. Taimur Shah seized the assassin and imprisoned him; but, as it was a blood-feud, would not put him to death. It was necessary that a near relative of Safa Khan should kill Mahomed Ali, and this pleasant duty fell upon Ahmad Khan, son of Safa Khan. He was a mere boy at the time; but, as his elder brothers were away, he was fortunate enough to be the executioner. He killed his uncle, Taimur Shah handing the man over to him, and was greatly respected thereafter as being a youth of good parts. After Taimur Shah’s death, Ahmad Khan became very intimate with the Wazir, Futteh Khan, and through his influence was made Khan of the Ghilzais. He met his death at Herat, fighting against the Persians. His son, Abdul Aziz Khan, succeeded him, but being quite a youth, the new Khan entrusted the control of the tribe to his uncle. Abdul Aziz, who was devoted to his religion, had born to him during his Khanship six sons. He was most anxious to make the pilgrimage to Mecca, but was prevented for many years by the elders of his tribe. Taking the matter at last into his own hands, he managed to reach the Ahmadzai and Zurmut country east of Ghazni, and thence escaped to Arabia. He reached Mecca safely, but on a visit to Medina was seized with a fatal illness, which put an end to his wanderings. His eldest son, Niamatullah Khan, became chief of the clan, and was a very popular ruler. Two of his younger brothers, Abdul Hamid and Halim Khan, tried to dispossess him of his inheritance, and some petty fighting followed. The family seem always to have been in a rabid state of parricide or fratricide; and in the month of Ramzan A.H. 1277 Hamid Khan killed Niamatullah Khan. The second son of Abdul Aziz, the present Asmatullah Khan, then became head of the Ghilzais, and still remains so. During the Amir Shere Ali’s reign he was a member of the Council of State. Asmatullah Khan’s character is thus curtly summed up:—“He is said to be dull, or slow of understanding, and wanting in pluck; he owes his influence more to his birth than to his capacity.” The half-hearted way in which he attacked Jugdulluck a few weeks ago, and his inability to keep his force together, prove that he lacks courage and administrative power, and now that one of our flying columns has marched unopposed through the Lughman Valley, his dignity in the eyes of his followers must have greatly diminished.
My last biographical sketch is of General Daoud Shah, late Commander-in-Chief of the Afghan army, who is now a prisoner in India. His father, Mahomed Shah, was of the Lakhan Khel, a branch of the Andar tribe of Sohak Ghilzais (south of Ghazni). Like Nimrod, he was a great shikari; but not content with the killing of beasts, he quarrelled with his neighbours most persistently, and was never happy unless engaged in tribal warfare. He lived in the village of Mandi Chinar, in the Safi district of Tagao; and upon the British invasion of 1839 he eagerly took up arms against the Kafirs. His career was ended in a fight before Charikar, in which our troops were successful in beating the tribesmen. His son, Daoud Shah, had his father’s warlike instinct, and as a young man took service in the army of the Dost. He was Akhbar Khan’s orderly officer, and gained much experience under that General. His promotion was very slow, until Shere Ali Khan made him captain for services rendered at the battle of Kajbaz, in which Sirdar Mahomed Ali Khan, eldest son of Shere Ali, was killed. Daoud Shah showed great bravery during the campaign in Khost, and was raised to the rank of General. He it was who won the battle of Zana Khan, in which Shere Ali defeated Azim Khan and Abdur Rahman Khan. His fame as a General was now bruited all over Afghanistan, and his next campaign added to his glory, as, in conjunction with Mahomed Alam Khan, he defeated Abdur Rahman’s forces in Turkistan, and settled the country in Shere Ali’s name. Having quarrelled with Mahomed Alam, he was recalled to Cabul and imprisoned by Shere Ali. The latter could not afford to alienate so able a General, and Daoud Shah was soon released, but was given no employment. When Yakub Khan rebelled against his father, Daoud Shah officiated as Commander-in-Chief, General Faramurz Khan, commanding the Amir’s armies in the field, having been killed by Aslam Khan, son of the Dost. Upon the new settlement of Turkistan, Daoud Shah accompanied Yakub Khan to Cabul, and reverted again to the rank of General. Upon Yakub Khan’s second rebellion, an army was again sent to Herat, in which Daoud Shah was given a command; but Shere Ali, finding that he had no able General at Cabul, recalled him and entrusted to him the management of all army affairs in the capital. When the Amir fled to Turkistan, after the capture of Ali Musjid and the Peiwar Kotal, Daoud Shah was left at Cabul with Yakub Khan, and he accompanied the new Amir to Gundamak. He was at the same time made Commander-in-Chief, and this office he held until the massacre of our Envoy and Yakub’s flight to the British camp at Kushi. Of Daoud Shah’s conduct during the attack upon the Residency nothing very exact is known. He was said to have tried, with 200 or 300 men, to check the mutineers. He certainly rode into the crowd with half a dozen attendants; but it was then too late, and he was pulled off his horse and beaten by the mutinous soldiery. He probably dared to take no action without the Amir’s orders; and these, unfortunately, were not forthcoming. Daoud Shah favourably impressed most of us with whom he came into contact, his striking figure and open manner being very different from the cringing obeisance of the Barakzai sirdars. During the siege it was deemed inadvisable that he should be at liberty in Sherpur; and he was, accordingly, placed under arrest. After such treatment it was, of course, imperative that he should be deported to India, as, if at first inclined to be faithful to the British, his imprisonment must have turned him against us. He was undoubtedly the ablest General in the Afghan army, and his popularity among the soldiers would always have ensured many thousands of men answering to his call to arms. He is between forty and fifty years of age, and is still an active, intelligent soldier.
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Chapter XXV
Changes in the Northern Afghanistan Force—Completion of the Chain of Forts about Cabul—Composition of the Force on March 22nd—Arrival of Mr. Lepel Griffin at Sherpur—Declaration of the Government Policy—Candahar and Herat to be separated from Cabul—Discontent among the Barakzai Sirdars—The Future of Herat—Advantages of the Khyber Route—Arguments in favour of the Annexation of the Jellalabad Valley—The Mustaufi’s Mission to the Ghazni Malcontents—His Partial Success—Assembly of the Chiefs at Maidan—The Durbar in Sherpur on April 13th—Speeches by Sir Frederick Roberts and Mr. Lepel Griffin—The Policy of the Government explained—Annexation deprecated—Approval of the Policy in Camp—The Exigency of Party Politics in England—Abdur Rahman’s Movements at Kunduz.
With the near approach of spring there was a recasting of the commands between Cabul and Peshawur, the following being the order of the Commander-in-Chief directing the changes:—
1. The Second Division of the Cabul Field Force, hitherto under the command of Major-General Bright, C.B., will be broken up.
2. The Reserve Division, under Major-General Ross, C.B., will also be broken up, and absorbed into the Line of Communications.
3. The Force in Cabul, under Lieutenant-General Sir F. Roberts, will be divided into two divisions. 1st Division under Sir F. Roberts’s immediate command, and the 2nd Division under Major General Ross, C.B.
4. Major-General Bright, C.B., is appointed Inspector-General of the Line of communications, and will command all troops thereon stationery, in movable columns, or passing along the line. Major-General Bright will report direct to Army Head-Quarters.
5. The Peshawur District will be temporarily commanded by Brigadier-General Hankin, 4th Bengal Cavalry, hitherto in command of the Cavalry Brigade Reserve Division.
6. The line of communications will be divided into three sections:—
1st.—From Jumrood to Busawul inclusive, under Brigadier-General Gib.
2nd.—From Busawul to Sufed Sang, but not inclusive of either, under Brigadier-General Doran, C.B.
3rd.—From Sufed Sang to Butkhak inclusive, under Brigadier-General Hill.
7. The General Staff for Major-General Bright’s command will consist of:—
Colonel Wemyss, Deputy Adjutant and Quartermaster-General; Major Thompson, Assistant Adjutant-General; Major Creagh, Assistant Quartermaster-General; Lieutenant Maisey, Deputy Assistant Quartermaster-General.
8. The Divisional Staff under Major-General Ross, C.B., will consist of:—
Major Boyes, Assistant Adjutant-General; Captain the Honourable C. Dutton, Assistant Quartermaster-General;
and a Deputy Assistant Quartermaster-General, to be detailed by Lieutenant-General Sir F. Roberts.
9. Colonel Evans, Commanding Royal Artillery on Line of communications, will proceed with the Staff to Cabul as commanding Royal Artillery, 2nd Division.
Lieutenant-Colonel Purvis, Royal Artillery, taking up the duties of Commanding Royal Artillery, under Major-General Bright.
Lieutenant-Colonel Limond will proceed to Cabul as Commanding Royal Engineers, 2nd Division, and Major Hill will assume the duties of Commanding Royal Engineer to Major-General Bright.
10. Brigadier-General Roberts (5th Fusiliers) will proceed to Cabul to command a brigade in the 2nd Division.
11. Brigadier-General Arbuthnot, C.B., will command the movable columns at Jellalabad and Sufed Sang.
12. The Force under Sir F. Roberts in Cabul will be styled the Cabul Field Force, and the Force under Major-General Bright will be styled the Khyber Line Force.
These arrangements were all carried out; and the following extracts from letters written in March will indicate what was occurring in and about Cabul:—
SHERPUR, March 3rd, 1880.
Brigadier-General Dunham Massy left for Peshawur a few days ago, where he will meet the Commander-in-Chief, and offer certain explanations of his course of action on December 11th, which, it is not too much to say, may modify the harsh step of recalling him from Cabul. The greatest sympathy is felt for General Massy in the force here; and the decision to be given on what is purely a question for military critics will be anxiously looked for.[38] Brigadier-General Hugh Gough has taken over charge of the Cavalry Brigade, his duties as Road Commandant being performed by Lieutenant-Colonel Mark Heathcote.
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Footnote 38:
I have not gone at length into the question of General Massy’s recall, as there were too many points involved for the case to be treated in a work of this kind, which is only a diary of the war. I may state, however, that General Massy was given a brigade command in India, which he still retains.
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There is no relaxation of the preparations for defending Sherpur and Cabul against all-comers. Certainly there is not now a weak point in the cantonment: the gap at the north-west corner, defended during the siege by a trench and a parapet made out of Cabuli gun-wheels, has now been closed by a wall six feet high on the inner side of the old barrier; the bastion at the corner, partially destroyed when the mutinous regiments blew up their magazine on October 7th, has been put in thorough order; a zigzag wall, with traverses, is also being built up on the western slope of the Bemaru hills; and, in addition to the block-house on the top, a platform has been made for guns, guarded by a semi-circular wall, which will eventually be joined to the zig-zag running up the hillside. Looking at these new defences, and also at the block-houses upon the Asmai and Sherderwaza Heights—to say nothing of the strong fort upon Siah Sung—one is tempted to ask, “What will be the fate of all these works when we retire?” We have made Sherpur practically impregnable now against any attack unsupported by heavy guns: shall we leave it so, or shall we order up a few tons of gun-cotton from an Indian arsenal, and have everything in readiness to blow its walls down when it has to be abandoned? Perhaps, as we shall inevitably be forced to annex Cabul in a few years, we may leave the cantonment intact, though it would be cruelty to expect our men to capture it, say in 1883, unless it had been well-pounded by a battery of 40-pounders from Siah Sung. But, for all outsiders may know, there may be a plan lying cut and dry in some secret drawer of our Chief Engineer’s despatch-box, in which the fate of Sherpur and its surroundings has been once for all decided. Colonel Perkins has certainly been indefatigable in creating new defences; perhaps he may show equal energy in destroying the work of his own hand when the time comes.[39]
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Footnote 39:
At Abdur Rahman’s request all the forts, &c., were left intact when Sir Donald Stewart left Cabul in August.
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March 21st.
The garrison of Cabul has been largely reinforced, and we have at last nearly 12,000 troops here. The 45th Sikhs and the 27th Punjabees, who marched in from Butkhak on Friday, are now encamped on the Siah Sung Ridge, and are holding the new fort built thereon. The 45th Sikhs have, for the time being, been attached to General Macpherson’s Brigade, and the 27th Punjab Infantry to General Charles Gough’s. The various forts we have built upon Asmai and Sherderwaza Heights have had their garrisons told off to them, and are at present held by half the number of men assigned to guard them in case of a new outbreak. Each fort is being stored with seven days’ provisions and water, and a liberal quantity of ammunition; and the garrisons are warned against using any of the reserve stores until necessity arises. The fort on Asmai is practically impregnable; even our artillery could not hope to make any impression upon it. The walls are twelve feet thick; and to carry it by assault, if at all well defended, would be impossible. Our cavalry are also showing themselves in the country about, to convince the people that we are on the alert, and also to enable the 3rd Bengal Cavalry and the Guides to become thoroughly acquainted with the nature of the ground they may have to act over. Last week all the available troopers and sowars in cantonment went out into Chardeh and over the ground where the 9th Lancers and 14th Bengal Lancers made their gallant charge on December 11th. Our infantry are also marched out occasionally, to get the men a little into condition, and they go swinging along over the dusty roads in the same grand style they have shown since they left Ali Kheyl six months ago. Drafts for the 9th and 72nd are now on their way up from Peshawur, and soon we shall have each regiment mustering about 900 banquets. All the men here are very fit and hardy after the winter, and are quite ready for another bout of fighting to relieve the monotony, which is now becoming rather trying. No. 1 Mountain Battery is to be relieved by the 6-8th, the screw-gun battery which did such good service in the Zaimukht country with General Tytler; and the 3rd Punjab Cavalry and 17th Bengal Cavalry are to come up to make our cavalry brigade complete. The strength of the Cabul garrison (including the outpost at Butkhak) was yesterday about 11,500 officers and men. The details of the force are:—
BUTKHAK. ─────────────────────────┬──────────┬────────── │ Officers.│ Men. ─────────────────────────┼──────────┼────────── 2-9th Foot │ 3│ 101 5th Punjab Infantry │ 1│ 83 17th Bengal Cavalry │ 1│ 133
SHERPUR ─────────────────────────┬──────────┬────────── │ Officers.│ Men. ─────────────────────────┼──────────┼────────── F-A, Royal Horse │ 6│ 162 Artillery │ │ G-3, Royal Artillery │ 6│ 178 No. 1 Mountain Battery │ 4│ 138 No. 2 Mountain Battery │ 5│ 201 Hazara Mountain Battery │ 4│ 151 9th Lancers │ 17│ 287 3rd Bengal Cavalry │ 8│ 372 Guides’ Cavalry │ 4│ 275 2-9th Foot │ 15│ 442 67th Foot │ 25│ 721 72nd Foot │ 19│ 691 92nd Foot │ 20│ 681 23rd Pioneers │ 8│ 759 28th Punjab Infantry │ 8│ 651 3rd Sikhs │ 10│ 634 5th Punjab Infantry │ 7│ 476 5th Ghoorkas │ 8│ 636 2nd Ghoorkas │ 7│ 532 4th Ghoorkas │ 7│ 692 24th Punjab Infantry │ 8│ 717 5th Sikhs │ 8│ 670 Guides’ Infantry │ 6│ 607 ─────────────────────────┴──────────┴──────────
The two companies of sappers and miners which belong to this division, but are now at Luttabund, are about 150 strong. Staff and departmental officers number 90. The draft for the 9th Foot is 320 men, and for the 72nd Highlanders about 200. The artillery musters twelve 9-pounders and fourteen 7-pounders. I give the details of our strength here, so that, in case of any further operations, the force at General Roberts’s disposal may be estimated at its proper value.
On Friday Sir F. Roberts met Mr. Lepel Griffin on the road to Luttabund, and the General and his new Political Officer rode on to Sherpur together in the afternoon. Sir F. Roberts ordered a guard of honour (one company of the 5th Punjab Infantry) to escort Mr. Lepel Griffin from Siah Sung to the cantonment. This unusual honour was paid to the Political Officer in order that the local sirdars might be duly impressed with a sense of his dignity. The said sirdars turned out in great force, with their usual tag-rag of followers, and formed a picturesque queue in rear of the General.
25th March.
Mr. Lepel Griffin has made known to the Barakzai sirdars here what is to be the future of Afghanistan; and although many details of the scheme sanctioned by the Government of India cannot, of course, yet be settled, the outline is distinct enough. As to the difficulties to be overcome before the new arrangements mature, they are incidental to our position as conquerors of Cabul, and will be dealt with either diplomatically, or by force of arms, according to the temper of the tribal chiefs and others. As Mr. Griffin’s short speech to Wali Mahomed Khan, Hashim Khan, and the other Barakzai sirdars was of an informal kind—though necessarily carrying weight as an exposition of Government policy—I am only able to give its general purport, about which there can he no manner of doubt. It was to the effect that certain wrong impressions had got abroad concerning Yakub Khan and his possible return to Cabul. Such return the Government had decided could under no conditions take place; tribal chiefs and their followers had believed that if a sufficient turmoil were kept up, and turbulent demands made persistently for Yakub Khan’s return, that end might be gained. This was a total mistake. The ex-Amir would never be allowed to resume the power he had forfeited, and all disturbances with that object would be unavailing. It had also been found that during three generations the Durani sovereigns of Cabul had been unable, or unwilling, to carry out treaty obligations with India, and it had now been decided that their power should be curtailed and certain subdivisions made of Afghanistan. While the British Government had no desire to annex the country, they were resolved that Candahar and Herat must henceforth no longer appertain to the sovereign of Afghanistan. They would be separate and distinct, and the future ruler of Cabul would have to look upon them as removed from his jurisdiction.[40] It had also been determined that the army of occupation should remain in Afghanistan until a new ruler had been appointed strong enough to accept and carry out the obligations to be imposed upon him, and such a ruler would have to be found. He must be strong enough to ensure the protection of such Afghans as were the friends of the British, in order that, when the army withdrew, there might not be a risk of such men suffering for their fidelity to us. Our friends must be the friends of any ruler placed in power, and he must be prepared to protect them.
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Footnote 40:
This was the policy Lord Lytton intended to carry out.
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Such is the distinct enunciation of what is to happen here, and, as might have been expected, it is not altogether palatable to the Barakzai sirdars. One and all are glad that Yakub Khan is not to return; he has never been a favourite with his kinsmen since Shere Ali’s death, and they would look upon his re-assumption of power as fatal to all their hopes. But they feel, and it is only right they should feel, keenly enough, the curtailment of the power hitherto vested in the hands of the Amir. Hashim Khan, who has been buoyed up with the idea that his chance of the Amirship was a very good one—though I must add, in justice to all our officials, that he has never received even a hint from them of what might be in store for him—showed considerable sullenness when he heard upon what terms the next Amir would have to accept power at our hands. He did not scruple to say openly that it would be impossible to guarantee the safety of any faction friendly to the British when our army had marched back to India. No doubt he holds this view as honestly as an Afghan can be said to have honesty at all; but he might modify it when he sees that such a condition will be insisted upon, and no half-hearted promise accepted. Hashim Khan has further said that, in freeing Candahar and Herat from their suzerainty to Cabul, we are reducing the Amir from the status of a king to that of a Nawab. Herat has always been considered the key of Turkistan and of Southern Afghanistan, and to surrender it either to Persia or to an independent ruler would be a severe blow to the Durani dynasty. Again, Hashim Khan says that to expect a Durani sovereign in Cabul to hold his own against the turbulent tribes in the immediate district, when he has been deprived of the great support he receives from the strong Durani factions about Candahar, is an impossibility. It is true that the Duranis are most numerous in Southern Afghanistan, and at first sight the objection seems tenable enough; but Hashim Khan has forgotten that, by our occupation of Candahar, any Amir of Cabul will receive our countenance and support from that quarter, and this will be as well known to the turbulent spirits of Kohistan, Logar, and Wardak, as to the Durani faction itself. Hashim Khan’s sullenness would be of no importance were it not that he is the only man with a spark of ability among the Barakzais now with us in Cabul; and as I have said in previous letters, he has been favourably thought of in our plans for settling the country on a firm basis. If he will not accept our terms, he will inevitably be passed over, as far as the Amirship is concerned, for the work now before us has to be done so thoroughly that all danger of another fiasco, such as the treaty of Gundamak proved, must be guarded against.
Taking the broad lines laid down by Mr. Lepel Griffin, a forecast of what is likely to happen in Afghanistan—putting aside purely military complications, which I will turn to afterwards—may fairly be given. That such a forecast must be tinged with conjecture is, of course, unavoidable; but still, perhaps, a fair estimate of the situation may be given. Candahar will be retained in our possession, but Herat will not yet be annexed. Its future will more probably be that of an independent city, with an important mission to fulfil in Central Asian politics. History is full of instances of cities maintaining their independence, and rising in course of time to the rank of Great Powers. Witness Venice, once one of the first maritime Powers in Europe. Herat is self-supporting, and is situated in so fertile a district that its wealth of produce is a proverb among Asiatics. Its strength as a military post is greater than that of any city in Afghanistan; it could be defended against great odds with almost a certainty of coming out victorious from the struggle. If we were to declare that it is to be independent, and to guarantee such independence against all-comers, its future would be assured. That this may be done is within the bounds of possibility, and we should give it a Governor who could be trusted to carry out our wishes. Being our nominee, and relying upon us for support in time of need, he would jealously guard against encroachments on his privileges; and would scarcely dare to risk loss of authority by disobeying any wishes we might make known to him. To do so would be madness with a British army at Candahar drawing its reinforcements by railway from India; and the Heratis themselves finding security and enormously-increased trade resulting from their new position of independence, would probably be on the alert to check intrigues against their autonomy. So far as regards Southern and Western Afghanistan: there remain the eastern and northern provinces to be dealt with, and here conjecture must be indulged in. Cabul will be freed from the presence of our army when a new Afghan Government has been created; but that our forces will retire behind Lundi Kotal is most improbable. By general consent, the Khyber route seems to be recognized as that most adapted for communication, hostile or otherwise, with Cabul; the Kurram route is worthless during several months of the year, and Thull as a base has not a single advantage. It then remains for consideration whether Lundi Kotal is sufficiently advanced for our purpose. To enable our influence to be supreme at Cabul, we must put ourselves in such a position that our army shall always be within hail of the city. Lundi Kotal certainly does not give such a position; Jellalabad is much better, but its climate is so great a drawback that it also drops out of consideration as an advanced post—such a post being on the plan of a large fortified camp, holding a force fully equipped in the matter of ammunition, supplies, and transport, and ready to move at the shortest notice. Gundamak, or a position on the hills near, would unquestionably give the site for the new outpost on the north-west frontier of India, and its connection with Peshawur might be not by Jellalabad, but by the valleys along the northern slopes of the Safed Koh, viz., viâ Maizena and Peshbolak. The Lughman route would involve a strong garrison at Jellalabad, which is to be avoided if possible. Besides, Lughman cannot compare with the fertile valleys in the shadow of the Safed Koh, wherein grain, forage, fuel, and water are abundant. I can speak from personal experience of Maizena and Peshbolak, having visited them during the last campaign; and if the pacification of the Shinwaris were once assured, the route would teem with advantages which cannot be found on the Jellalabad Road. It would not be a task more difficult to reduce the Shinwaris to a state of quietude than it was to convince the Afridis of the uselessness of molesting us in the Khyber. As there is always a great outcry against annexation, it might be worth while to abandon Kurram, merely taking a quid pro quo in the Jellalabad Valley. That this will absolutely be done, is very problematical; but it is to be hoped that the Government will be strong enough to disregard any non-annexation outcry if the preponderance of opinion, both among our military and political experts, is in favour of the holding of Gundamak.[41]
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Footnote 41:
The Afghans cannot, of course, be expected to understand the principle of party-government at home; the defeat of the Conservative party and the recall of Lord Lytton put an end to such ideas as the retention of Candahar and the maintenance of the scientific frontier. Our change of policy was misunderstood generally in Afghanistan, where, to this day, it is believed we were too weak to carry out our original plans.
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6th April.
The Mustaufi, Habibulla Khan, who was sent by General Roberts some weeks ago to negotiate with the Ghazni malcontents, and induce them to state what their demands really were, has returned to Sherpur and reported that he has the majority of the chiefs now at Maidan, and they are willing to attend a Durbar. Young Musa Khan has, however, been left at Ghazni with Mushk-i-Alam. When General Roberts first proposed to Habibulla Khan to go to Ghazni, and sound the temper of the malcontent leaders, with a view to arrange some basis upon which the settlement of Afghanistan could be carried out, the answer was that it would be useless—the irreconcilables would not listen to him. There the matter ended for the time being, but some weeks afterwards the Mustaufi voluntarily visited the General, and said that he was willing to go to his home in Wardak, whence he could judge if it were possible to gather the tribal chiefs together for purposes of consultation. He accordingly set out, and for the past two months we have heard strange rumours of what was happening in Wardak and Ghazni. The Mustaufi now reports that, on arriving at his home in Wardak, he fell ill, and for some time was unable to do anything in the way of negotiation. Upon recovering, he began to sound the various Wardak chiefs as to their views, and was careful to point out the folly of resistance, now that the British had received large reinforcements and had strengthened Sherpur and the heights above Cabul. At first, no one would listen to him, so he proceeded to Ghazni to interview Mahomed Jan, young Tahir Khan (half-brother of Hashim Khan), and finally Mushk-i-Alam. Here also he met with but little success: Mahomed Jan would not adopt his views, but talked of a new jehad, and the driving of the British out of the country: the success of the first few weeks of December was to be repeated on a larger scale, and every tribesman was to rise from Ghazni to Jellalabad. Against such tall talk the Mustaufi could only urge that the jehad would come to as bitter and humiliating an end as the previous one had done on December 23rd, when the force sent to attack Sherpur had been beaten off with great loss. Then Mahomed Jan veered round slightly, and said he would abandon all idea of fighting if Yakub Khan were reinstated, or Musa Khan created Amir. The former scheme, he was told, was impossible; the latter might possibly be considered. The Mustaufi was much hindered in his work by young Tahir Khan, who had Musa Khan in his keeping. This young sirdar cordially hates his half-brother, Hashim Khan; and as he knew Habibulla was working solely in the latter’s interest, he tried to thwart him in every way. This game of cross-purposes would have been most interesting to an outsider if all the intricacies of the intrigues could have been understood; but it must sorely have tried the temper of the Mustaufi, who had everything to gain by bringing the malcontents to look at matters from his point of view. He was, however, more than a match for a drunken debauchee, such as Mahomed Jan and an inexperienced youth like Tahir Khan. Turning his attention to Mushk-i-Alam, he used different arguments to those employed with the military leaders of the disaffected. He showed to the old moollah that the only way of getting rid of the infidels (whom he hated just as much as any reckless fanatic) was by negotiation, and not by resistance: the former course might put Cabul once more into a position of importance; the latter only could result in disaster to Afghanistan, as the British forces were daily growing in strength, and it was fully intended to capture Ghazni from the Candahar direction, and punish every tribe showing overt hostility. The moollah was half-convinced, and was left in such a frame of mind that good results might be looked for. Then Habibulla Khan turned his attention to the powerful chiefs of his own tribe, and by means which we are ignorant of, won them all over to his side. They, perhaps, scented future rewards and great power in the direction of the State when their kinsman should be Finance Minister of a new Amir, and they announced themselves as prepared to consult with the British upon the subject of a future Government. The example of the Wardak chiefs was contagious, and soon the Logar maliks made common cause with them. Mahomed Jan thus saw himself being deserted by the tribes upon whom he had mainly relied, and he at last promised to accompany the Mustaufi to Maidan to take part in a great tribal Durbar, although he refrained from pledging himself to any fixed decision. Just about this time the Hazaras raided upon Nani, south of Ghazni, and the Mustaufi was in fear that all his arrangements would be upset, as Mahomed Jan started to repel the raiders. From that point much uncertainty as to what was really occurring was felt in Sherpur; and as it was known that Mr. Lepel Griffin’s declaration of the partition of Afghanistan had been sullenly received even by Hashim Khan, it was not unnaturally supposed that the Mustaufi would be left in the lurch by the chiefs who had pledged themselves to follow his instructions.
Yesterday Habibulla Khan rode from Maidan to Sherpur, and all doubts, so far as regards the chiefs being at Maidan, are set at rest. He reports that he left there all the headmen of Wardak, Logar, Ahmadzai Ghilzais, and Zurmut (the district east of Ghazni towards Khost), together with Mahomed Jan, Mir Butcha, Kohistani; Mahomed Hasan Khan, ex-Governor of Jellalabad; Sirdars Tahir Khan, Alim Khan, Surwar Khan, and other notables, including Generals Aslam Khan, Gholam Jan, and Kurrim Khan, who fought against us at Charasia.
The news that General Sir Donald Stewart with a large force left Candahar a week ago for Ghazni has undoubtedly had an effect upon these men. It is difficult to see what our own policy will be hereafter, as the change of Government at home may bring about quite a new departure. All General Roberts and Mr. Lepel Griffin can do is to endeavour to gain the ear of the chiefs, and to obtain a knowledge of their wishes in the matter of a settled Government. The chiefs now at Maidan will be asked to attend a Durbar, shortly to be held in Sherpur. Mr. A. C. Lyall, Foreign Secretary, has paid a flying visit to Cabul, and is now on his way back to India.
14th April.
The Durbar for the reception of such of the chiefs as chose to come in has, at last, been held, and the fullest declaration yet made of the intentions of the Government of India has been listened to by the Cabul sirdars and the men whom the Mustaufi has induced to visit Sherpur. It may be as well, once for all, to state that the chiefs represented only a minority of the tribesmen, although a paper of requests which they have presented was signed by nearly all the Wardak, Logar, and Southern Ghilzai maliks. The Mustaufi’s personal interest in Wardak was sufficiently strong to bring many of his kinsmen in; but Mahomed Jan’s brother, who is head of the clan, would not accompany the rest, considering his signature quite enough for all practical purposes. Mahomed Jan himself would have come in willingly if a khillut had been promised and certain honours paid to him as a successful General; but this we very sensibly declined to do, and he is now out in the cold. Mahomed Hasan Khan, ex-Governor of Jellalabad, also declined at the last moment, as he will have no one but Yakub Khan as Amir; while Mir Butcha and Surwar Khan, Purwani, are too busy, levying men in Kohistan for Abdur Rahman’s army, to think of wasting their time at Sherpur. We had then, really, at the Durbar representatives of the Wardak, Logar, Zurmut, and Koh-Dahman people, or sections of the people, and also all the Barakzai sirdars with us in Cabul, as well as the three Sirdars—Surwar Khan, Tahir Khan, and Alim Khan—who have been taking care of young Musa Jan, at Ghazni, in the hope that he might some day be made Amir by the British.
The Durbar was held in a large tent pitched near the Engineers’ Park in Sherpur. The sirdars and maliks rode into Sherpur from the city at eleven o’clock, and spent their time until three o’clock in discussing current events and admiring each other’s wonderful raiment. They were marshalled in due order in the Durbar tent before four o’clock, Wali Mahomed, Governor of the city, being placed on the right of the seats assigned to Sir F. Roberts and Mr. Lepel Griffin, the Mustaufi and the Nawab Gholam Hussain being just in rear; while Sirdar Hashim Khan, Abdulla Khan, and the other loyal Barakzai princes were given chairs on the right. The tribal chiefs squatted on the ground just within the shadow of the tent, while such British officers as chose to attend were seated on the General’s left. General Ross, commanding the 2nd Division, and the Brigadiers, with the exception of General Baker, who is lying ill from an attack of fever, were among the British officers present. A guard of honour of 100 men of the 72nd Highlanders, with their band, were drawn up—bayonets fixed, and ball ammunition in their pouches—on the road leading from the General’s gateway; while small parties of the 3rd Sikhs and 5th Ghoorkas were stationed in rear of the tent as an extra precaution. Afghan fanaticism takes, at times, such determined shape that even in a Durbar a ghazi might declare himself; and it was therefore only wise to be ready for an emergency. It would have fared ill with any fanatic who might have attempted to amuse himself preparatory to entering Paradise, for the Highlanders, Sikhs, and Ghoorkas are too old soldiers to care for a knife-cut when their bayonets are ready for use. Sir Frederick Roberts, with his personal Staff, and Mr. Lepel Griffin, Chief Political Officer, walked from the head-quarters to the tent; and as the General entered after the usual honours from the guard outside, the sirdars and maliks rose to their feet and made obeisance with true Oriental humility. The scene was picturesque enough, and yet there was a grim touch of irony in the surroundings; for, preceding the General, came eight Highlanders with the inevitable fixed bayonets, who opened out on either hand in the tent, and stood to attention in the space between the chiefs and the British officers. Sir Frederick Roberts’s native orderlies, two long-limbed Sikhs, two wiry Pathans, and a pair of fierce little Ghoorkas, who are always to be found at the General’s heels, took up their places behind him, their bayonets shining out among the gold-laced caps of the Staff and the undress uniforms of the officers of the garrison whom curiosity had prompted to be present. After the preliminary shuffling and gathering up of robes, the Afghan notables followed the General’s example and quietly sat down, the maliks falling upon their knees and folding their hands in an attitude of great attention. There was not much to attract notice either in their faces or demeanour: they were merely commonplace men, waiting respectfully upon the General’s pleasure; but there was presently a stir among them when the names of Surwar Khan, Tahir Khan, and Alim Khan were called out. These three sirdars were presented to the General by Mr. Griffin, and after shaking hands and making respectful bows they returned to their places. Tahir Khan is a young man of nineteen or twenty, with a sullen expression of face, and with none of the dignity of a prince: he might, with a little trouble, be made to look like a decent Cabuli syce; but even then he would be a poor figure among his compeers of the stable. Sir Frederick Roberts did not receive any of the tribal chiefs, whose position, indeed, would not have warranted such an attention, but immediately opened the Durbar by a short speech, greatly to the purpose. He said:—
“SIRDARS AND MALIKS,
“I am very glad to meet you here to-day, especially those who through the good offices of the Mustaufi have been induced to come into Cabul to make their wishes known to me. I trust this Durbar is the beginning of the end, and that it will now be possible for us to enter into such an arrangement with the people of Afghanistan as will ensure an honourable peace and lasting friendship between them and the British. Some of you, I understand, hesitated to accompany the Mustaufi, fearing your treatment and reception by us might not be such as we had promised you, and that some evil might befall you. You need never have any such fear when your safety has been assured on the word of a British officer. The British do not say one thing and mean another. You who have come in have been honourably treated, and after this Durbar you are all at liberty to depart. I trust, when you leave Cabul, you will carry away with you a more friendly feeling towards us than some of you hitherto entertained; and that those of your party who are still holding aloof will be wise enough to follow the good example you have set them, and will accept our invitation to come into Cabul. Mr. Lepel Griffin, Chief Political Officer in North and Eastern Afghanistan, with whom you have already become acquainted, will now, on the part of the Government of India, answer the request you have made.”
This speech having been translated into Persian, Mr. Lepel Griffin addressed the chiefs. His speech, delivered in Persian, was to the following effect:—
“SIRDARS, KHANS, AND MALIKS OF CABUL,
“It has been my wish, for some time past, to meet you all in Durbar, and to explain to you collectively and publicly, as I have already done privately, the intentions of the British Government with regard to the settlement of Afghanistan. This is a favourable opportunity, when replies have been given to the request of certain chiefs and maliks in the neighbourhood of Ghazni who have been long hostile, but who have, at last, listened to the advice of the Mustaufi whom Sir Frederick Roberts sent to reassure them, and have deputed many of their number to place their requests respectfully before the Government. It is to be regretted that the more important of the leaders have not come in person. When the Government promised them a safe-conduct, there was no reason for even those who had been most opposed to it, to fear for their lives, or their liberty. The British Government bears no ill-will to those who have fought fairly against it, and those of the representatives who have come to Cabul are free to leave when they wish; during their stay they will be treated as friends and guests. But those chiefs who have remained behind at Maidan, must not think their signatures on the paper of requests will be considered as equivalent to their presence; the more so as we know that the reason why some of them have not come is that they have secretly abandoned the cause they profess to support, and have made promises to others. When you return to Maidan, ask Generals Gholam Hyder and Mahomed Jan when they are going to desert you.
“Maliks of Ghazni, Maidan, and Logar, and Chiefs of the Ghilzai, Wardak, and other tribes in their neighbourhood,—I have met you more than once in private interview, and have discussed with you, in a friendly way, your requests; and I now only wish to say publicly, and for the information of the sirdars and the people of the city and neighbourhood of Cabul, whom it concerns as closely as it does you, what I have already said to you. You have first asked that the former friendship of the Government of the Queen-Empress of Hindustan should be restored, that the Amir Yakub Khan should be released and reinstated, and that the British Army should retire from Afghanistan. I reply, I would first remind you that the breach in our mutual friendship was made by the Amir Shere Ali Khan. The British Government not only always desired and still desires friendship with Afghanistan, but will not appoint any one as Amir who does not profess friendship; nor will it allow him to continue Amir unless he plainly shows himself the friend of the friends of the British Government, and the enemy of its enemies. For this reason, the Viceroy has decided that Yakub Khan shall not return to Afghanistan. You know whether he observed the promises he had made to the British Government; you know he rewarded those who opposed us in the first campaign; while those who had assisted us he turned out of their lands and appointments. You have told me privately that if Yakub Khan be not allowed to return, you are willing to accept as Amir any one whom the British Government may choose to select. This expression of the wish of a large number of respectable maliks will be at a proper time laid before His Excellency the Viceroy, together with that of others who may wish to support the candidature of Wali Mahomed, Hashim Khan, Musa Khan, Ayub Khan, or any other member of the ruling family who may be approved by a large number of the people. Government has no intention of annexing Afghanistan, and will occupy no more of it than may be necessary for the safety of its own frontier. But the province of Candahar will not remain united to Cabul: it will be placed under the independent rule of a Barakzai prince. For the administration of those provinces that remain attached to Cabul, the Government is anxious to appoint an Amir who shall be strong enough to govern his people and be steadfast in his friendship to the British: and if only these qualifications be secured, the Government is willing and anxious to recognize the wish of the Afghan people and of their tribal chiefs, and to nominate an Amir of their choice. But no decision can be given at present. You who have assembled here represent but a small part of the people, and it is necessary to ascertain the views and wishes of many other chiefs and sirdars who are absent from Cabul. But your votes in favour of Yakub Khan’s immediate family will be remembered and considered, if, until, the decision of the Government be given, you absolutely abstain from all hostile action; otherwise do not expect that the Government will consider him likely to be a friendly Amir whose friends are its persistent enemies. The armies of the Queen-Empress will withdraw from Afghanistan, when the Government considers that the proper time has come. As they did not enter Afghanistan with your permission, so they will not withdraw at your request. When the country is again peaceful, and when a friendly Amir has been selected, the Government has no wish to remain in Afghanistan. The army came to Cabul to inflict punishment for the murder of its Envoy in time of peace, which some of you have called a regrettable accident, but which the British Government considers an atrocious crime. It will remain until some satisfactory settlement can be made.
“You have been told that an army from Candahar is now marching on Ghazni, while another from Bombay has taken its place at Candahar. A third army is in Kurrum, a fourth at Cabul, a fifth at Jellalabad, in the Khyber, and at Peshawur. The General has ordered a strong force to march from Cabul in three days towards Maidan, to co-operate with the Candahar army. If you are wise, you will do everything to assist this force, which is not sent against you, nor will it molest you, if only the conduct of the people is friendly. If, on the contrary, you listen to leaders who only deceive you for their own advantage, and commit and excite hostility against the Government, punishment will quickly and certainly follow. The Khugiani tribe three weeks ago attacked the British Fort near Gundamak, at night; they have since had to pay a fine of Rs. 10,000 and five of their towers have been blown up. The Hisarak people have been committing outrages on the road and carrying off men and cattle. A large force has been sent by the General into Hisarak, and a fine of Rs. 15,000 has been imposed.
“The Government is quite willing to be friends with you and to treat you as its friends; but it is also resolved to be obeyed, so long as its armies are in the country, and to punish severely any open opposition. You have a proverb that force and money are the only powers in Afghanistan. It is for you to choose which you wish. Government intends to keep the sword for its enemies and the money for its friends; and if you are wise you will count yourselves as our friends. Those people deceive you who preach a jehad, and say the English are the enemies of Islam. In India fifty million Mahomedans enjoy under the government of the Queen greater liberty, happiness, and security than in any country of the world; and it is the British Government which has many times, by a great expenditure of men and treasure, guarded and preserved the empire of the Sultan of Turkey against his enemies. Government is the friend and protector of Islam, and not its destroyer. As to your own requests for the appointment of a Mahomedan agent at Cabul, and a grant of assistance in money and material to the new Amir, I can only say that these requests have been made by you in ignorance, for they are matters which will be decided, by the Government of India, with the chief whom they agree to appoint as Amir. It is not fitting for small persons to discuss them. Of this only be assured, that he whom the Viceroy of India may select will be supported by the Government in every possible way, so long as he shows friendly intentions towards it.”
The chiefs listened silently and with the phlegmatic attention they always show in Durbar, and they clearly understood the speeches. Mr. Griffin spoke in Persian, and a Pushtu translation was also read out for the benefit of such as were imperfectly acquainted with Persian. Such of the British officers as could speak neither language were in the dark as to the Political Officer’s declaration, but camp gossip soon furnished them with a fairly-correct translation. The firmness of the language and the uncompromising terms in which the sirdars and chiefs were told of our intentions has been approved in camp in the fullest way. Our great hope is that no exigencies of party politics at home will cause a modification; it would be fatal to our prestige if we had to withdraw from resolutions now made public. The Cabul chiefs had already been told what they had to expect; and the Barakzai sirdars now learned what decision the Government of India had arrived at—Candahar to be the fief of an independent prince; an Amir to be elected by the voice of the people, who should be friendly to the British; and the withdrawal of our army when such a man had been found—these were the main points. Herat was not mentioned, and this is the more significant as it was fully known that the separation of Herat from the Durani kingdom was a sore point, even with our friends in Cabul. The future of that district may well be allowed to drop out of sight for the present, as until it becomes clear who the new Amir is to be, we cannot possibly undertake to say what shall become of Herat. If he is a man equal to holding Turkistan and Herat as well as Cabul, and to be true, at the same time, to his friendship to us, we might so strengthen his hands that he could defy rebellion and intrigue and make his government all-powerful from our north-western frontier to the borders of Persia. The allusion to Turkey was certainly not a happy one; we may, it is true, have gone to war several times to maintain that Mahomedan kingdom, but our late desertion of the Sultan cannot recommend our policy to such fanatical Mussulmans as the Afghans. Abdur Rahman’s name, too, was not mentioned; and as he is already knocking at our gates, it might have been wiser to make some allusions to him.
The result of the Durbar has been satisfactory enough as far as the Cabul sirdars are concerned, who fully believe that one of their number will yet be Amir. Sirdars Wali Mahomed Khan and Hashim Khan have accepted the mediation of the Mustaufi, and have pledged themselves to act in concert, if either of them is placed on the throne. They both dread the advent of Abdur Rahman and the possible encouragement he may receive from the British, if he comes as a friend, and they are very anxious to show that their combined party would be strong enough to keep the Durani kingdom together. They have, as yet, received no distinct promises from us, and it is not too much to say that we are inclined to treat their claims with contempt until we learn more of Abdur Rahman’s intentions. The tribal chiefs, too, are not of sufficient importance to justify us in believing that any arrangement made with them would be of a lasting kind; and though we have so far respected their feelings as not to send our force out to Maidan to-day, we still intend to move 4,000 men under General John Ross to Sheikhabad, on the Ghazni Road, there to join hands with Sir Donald Stewart. News from Kunduz is to the effect that Abdur Rahman Khan is collecting men and raising money, and that his agents have been well received in Kohistan.
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