CHAPTER XIV.
Deportation of Yakub Khan to India—Review of his Reign—The Scene on the Morning of December 1st—Precautions along the Road to Jugdulluck—Strengthening of the Posts—Tribal Uneasiness about Cabul—Attitude of the Kohistanis—General Baker’s Brigade ordered to Sherpur—The State of Afghan Turkistan—Its Effect upon Kohistan—Gholam Hyder and his Army—The Extent of his Power—Return of his disbanded Regiments to their Homes in Kohistan—Our Policy towards the Afghans—Failure of the Attempt to conciliate the People—Modifications necessary—Murder of our Governor of Maidan.
Sherpur, 1st December.
The ex-Amir of Afghanistan, Sirdar Yakub Khan, is now well on his way to India: the order for his deportation having been carried out so silently and quickly that, while I am writing, the majority of men in Sherpur cantonments are ignorant of his departure. As I ventured to predict in forwarding the news of the close of the Commission of Inquiry, Yakub Khan’s fate is that of an exile to India; but even now we are in the dark here as to whether he will be treated as a State prisoner, and allowed to live in luxurious comfort, or will be sent to the Andamans, to drag out his life as a common malefactor. If the latter, it will be an ignoble ending of a career which in its earlier stages promised such brilliant achievements. Yakub Khan was once the first soldier in Afghanistan, but from the evil moment when he confided in the word of his father, his fame was at an end. Five years’ captivity—and such captivity as only Shere Ali could devise—broke his spirit, dulled his intellect, and left him the weak incapable we treated with at Gundamak, and confided in so blindly until the fatal week in September. That under fairer auspices he might have proved a strong ruler, such as the Afghans require, can scarcely[scarcely] admit of a doubt; that he would have been a Dost Mahomed even his most ardent admirers would hesitate to assert. The conditions of government in a country like Afghanistan compel the sovereign either to be a tyrant or the tool of factions: Yakub Khan, during his few months of power, was the latter. His accession to the throne took place under circumstances to cope with which, even in the prime of his manhood before imprisonment had crippled him, would have taxed his power to the uttermost. After five years in a dungeon he was suddenly liberated by his father, only to find that father in the last stage of defeat and despair, his kingdom practically at the mercy of a powerful invader, and himself a panic-stricken fugitive. Left first as Shere Ali’s regent, Yakub Khan could do nothing beyond watch, with Oriental submission to fate, the advance of the two invading armies up the Jellalabad and Kurram Valleys. The help which Shere Ali expected to receive from his Russian friends over the Oxus was not forthcoming; in a few weeks came the news of the death of the Amir at Mazar-i-Sharif, and Yakub found himself in possession of a kingdom already tottering to its fall. If he had had the energy of Dost Mahomed he might have organized armies, called upon the semi-barbarous tribes still lying between Cabul and India to join his soldiers in a holy war, and make a supreme effort to check the invasion which had driven his father from the capital. But that energy was lacking; he made but a faint-hearted appeal to the fanaticism of the hill-tribes, and, unsupported as this was by any real attempt to collect the scattered units of Shere Ali’s once-powerful army, it necessarily failed. Nothing was left to him but negotiation; and, thanks to the clemency of the enemy to whom he was opposed, he was granted terms which, in his position, he could scarcely have hoped to gain. He allied himself with the most powerful State in Asia, and the safety of his kingdom was assured against all foreign aggression. If he had been a tyrant to his subjects, and thoroughly determined to make his will their law, the reception in his capital of an Embassy from the Power with which he was allied would have been fraught with no danger either to himself or to the Ambassador. But he had not the strength of tyranny sufficient to control the factions of which he was a mere tool, and it seems only too probable that he gradually drifted from his first position of sincerity towards his new allies, to that of a timid spectator of intrigues against the alliance. His weakness and vacillation could not check the danger that was growing so formidable, and, when the final outbreak came, his personal influence was even unequal to saving the life of the man who had trusted so implicitly in his good faith. That Yakub desired the death of Sir Louis Cavagnari we do not believe; that he had been led, insidiously, by men about him to coincide in the view that the Embassy should be forced to leave may be readily credited. And once that Embassy had been destroyed, there is only too much reason to suppose that he was inclined to parley with the men who had brought about its destruction, and to listen to their plausible reasoning that what had been done was irrevocable. The access of personal fear, which drove him to seek safety in the British camp, no more excuses him of responsibility for his acts of omission or commission, than does the voluntary surrender of a murderer condone the crime he has committed. So far as human canons are concerned, repentance cannot blot out guilt, however much it may modify judgment: the supreme quality of mercy is impossible under ordinary conditions of life. Taking the most pitiful estimate of Yakub Khan’s offence, putting aside the idea even of participation in the views of the men who wished him to break the engagements to which he stood pledged, there is the one unpardonable crime still clinging to him—that he stood by, and made no sign, while the lives of men were sacrificed which should have been sacred to him, even according to the narrow creed of the fanatics who surrounded him. His own words, when refusing the help that was so dearly needed, rise up against him when he appeals to our forbearance: “It is not to be done.” Perhaps, hereafter, the same answer may be given when we are asked to preserve the integrity of a country which has always repaid friendship with falsehood, trust with treachery.
From the 28th of October until his departure for India this morning, Yakub Khan had been a close prisoner in our camp, the tent in which he was confined being always strongly guarded, and no one beyond our own officers being allowed access to him. The monotony and solitude have told upon him, of course, and he is now thinner and more worn than when he first took refuge with General Baker at Kushi. Before the closing day of the inquiry he was contented and placid enough; but of late he has displayed some anxiety as to his probable fate, the irksomeness of the restraint under which he was placed having, no doubt, largely contributed to this. He could hear all the busy life in camp about him, but was as much shut out from it as if a prisoner again in the Bala Hissar. The bayonets of the sentries who quartered the ground day and night about his tent were a barrier beyond which he could not pass. The departure for India, Malta, or London, which he had expressed himself so willing to undertake nearly two months ago, must have seemed to him hopeless, even so late as six o’clock last night, when Major Hastings, Chief Political Officer, paid his usual visit to the tent, then guarded by fifty men of the 72nd Highlanders. Major Hastings said nothing of the orders which had been received from the Government, as it had been resolved to give as short a notice as possible of the intended journey, for fear of complications on the road to Peshawur. Not that it was at all likely an effort would be made to rouse the tribes to attempt a rescue, but that nothing was to be gained by an open parade of the departure. At eight o’clock Major Hastings sent word to Yakub Khan that he intended paying him a second visit; and, accompanied by Mr. H. M. Durand, Political Secretary to the Lieutenant-General, he again went to the tent. Yakub Khan was a little astonished at the unusual hour chosen for the visit; but when told that he would have to leave Cabul for India at six o’clock the next morning, he kept his composure admirably. He expressed surprise that such short notice should be given, but beyond this did not question the arrangements. He asked that his father-in-law, Yahiya Khan, and two other sirdars now in confinement should be released and allowed to accompany him. This, of course, could not be granted, and he then asked to what place in India he was to be taken, and where the Viceroy was. This was all the concern he showed. The orders received here are to convey him safely to Peshawur; so but little information as to his final resting-place could be vouchsafed him. I may here incidentally mention that he will probably go on to Umritsar or Lahore, where, perhaps, the decision of the Government will be made known to him.
All the arrangements for the journey had been carefully made beforehand. There were, this morning, at Butkhak, the 12th Punjab Cavalry, and between that post and Sei Baba 400 of the 72nd Highlanders, 300 of the 23rd Pioneers, and a wing of the 28th Punjab Infantry; while the convoy of sick and wounded, with its escort, was between Kata Sung and Jugdulluck. The escort from Sherpur was simply two squadrons of cavalry drawn from the 9th Lancers and 5th Punjab Cavalry, under the command of Major Hammond, of the latter regiment. Soon after five o’clock this morning the little camp in which the ex-Amir was lodged, not far from head-quarters, was all astir with preparations for the journey. A bright moon was shining overhead and a few watch-fires were blazing brightly among the tents, by the light of which the mules and yaboos were loaded up. The squadron of the 5th Punjab Cavalry drew up outside the gateway which leads from the cantonments near the western end of the southern wall; while the Lancers passed from their lines, opposite the break in the Bemaru Heights, to a bit of open ground between the quarters of the 72nd Highlanders and Yakub Khan’s tent. The early morning air was bitterly cold, and the usual light mist which settles nightly over the Cabul plain still hung about. The camp was silent and deserted, every soldier being at that hour asleep, except the sentries at their posts and the patrols, stalking like armed ghosts from picquet to picquet, seeking for any rabid Kohistani who might have invaded the sanctity of our lines. The Lancers moved smartly round and round in small circles to keep themselves and their horses from freezing as they stood; and through the dust and mist enveloping them their lances shone out now and again as the steel-heads caught a glint from the moon. It was a fantastical sight, this endless circling of misty horsemen, moving apparently without aim or object and growing momentarily more and more distinct as dawn began to creep up over the distant Luttabund and Khurd Cabul hills, and struggle with the clear moonlight which had before been supreme. In an hour everything was ready for departure. Yakub Khan’s horses were waiting ready saddled, and the Lancers had ceased their circling, and were formed up waiting for the order to march. Sir Frederick Roberts, Colonel Macgregor, Chief of the Staff, and Major Hastings were present to see the prisoner start on his rapid journey, and at half-past six exactly Yakub Khan rode off surrounded by Lancers. He had exchanged salaams with the General and those about him, and, if not positively elated, was seemingly quite content to leave Cabul. Captain Turner was the Political Officer to whose care he was assigned; and Abdullah Khan, son of the Nawab Gholam Hussein, was the native officer in attendance. His four body servants and a favourite attendant, Abdul Kayun, who had been released at the last moment, rode with the escort. No notice was given beforehand to his servants; and when the royal cooks heard that they were to start for India, they abandoned their master and took refuge in the city. They were afterwards sought out and sent on to Luttabund, the halting-place for the night, as the comfort of Yakub Khan is to be strictly considered. The news of the departure soon spread through Cabul, and the Mussulman population, according to a Hindu informant, are greatly depressed and uneasy. They are now convinced that the Durani dynasty is at an end; and, while not regretting Yakub personally, they mourn over the fall of that reign of turbulence which they could always carry out in the city under a Barakzai. Double marches are to be made the whole way to Peshawur, where Yakub Khan is expected to arrive in eight days. Part of the Cabul Field Force escort will accompany him to Jugdulluck, where the advanced Khyber Brigade will assume charge, and he will be passed through the various posts until the Punjab Frontier is reached.[[28]] His son, the so-called heir-apparent, remains here, as well as the members of his harem, who will be pensioned and properly cared for by the British authorities.
During the past few days reports have come in of growing uneasiness among various sections of the tribes about Cabul, and these culminated yesterday in the news that the Kohistanis had actually risen, and were at Khoja Serai, on the Charikar Road. They were said to have cooked three days’ food, and to meditate attacking Sherpur on the last day of the moon. From the Luttabund direction also it was reported that the Safis of Tagao and the hillmen west of Jugdulluck were also meditating mischief, though beyond gathering together in small bands they had not made open demonstration of hostility. The change in the attitude of the Kohistanis has warned us that it is idle to expect a peaceful quiet among men who have always been unruly and turbulent. The sections which will probably give us most trouble now and in the future are—the Wardaks inhabiting the country about the Ghazni Road, who may drag in the Logaris, the Safis of Tagao, and the Kohistanis. With the two former we have already come into collision; General Macpherson having ventured into Tagao in search of supplies, while General Baker on a similar mission at Maidan has had to burn Beni-Badam in the Wardak country.[[29]] It is probable that both Safis and Wardaks will seek hereafter to have their revenge; but in the meantime we shall not trouble them further, as we have the Kohistanis to deal with. Kohistan lies due north of Cabul between the Pughman, a spur of the Hindu Kush, and Tagao, and includes the upper valley of the Panjshir River, which stretches away north-east from Charikar, the most important town in the province. The lower portion of Kohistan is known as the Koh-Daman (Mountain Skirt), and is the district renowned for its vineyards and orchards, from which Cabul is largely supplied with fruit. It is fertilized by innumerable streams running down from the Pughman mountains, and uniting to form a river, which, turned to the north by ranges of hills facing Pughman, eventually empties itself into the Panjshir on the western border of Tagao. Looking northwards from the Bemaru Heights above Sherpur cantonments, one sees nothing but a mass of hills piled together in picturesque confusion, the foreground being a low range running parallel to the narrow swampy lake, which borders the plain from which Bemaru rises. The road from Cabul to Kohistan passes close to Sherpur on the east, crosses the grassy plain, and over the lake on a raised causeway at a point where it is very narrow and shallow, and thence over a low kotal called Paen Minar. Koh-Daman is then fairly entered upon, and the route northwards is as follows:—Paen Minar to Kila Ittafal Khan, six miles; Ittafal Khan to Khoja Serai, five miles; Khoja Serai to Istalif, seven miles; Istalif to Charikar, viâ Isturgehteh, thirteen miles; or a total from Paen Minar, four miles from Sherpur, of thirty-one miles. While we were encamped at Siah Sung the Kohistan Chiefs came in and made professions of friendship, which were gladly accepted by General Roberts. They remained with us for several weeks, but were plainly disappointed that no large subsidy was promised to them for their future good behaviour. A Governor, Shahbaz Khan, a Barakzai sirdar who had intermarried with the Kohistanis, was appointed, and was sent to Charikar, his mission being chiefly to furnish supplies for our troops, and to prevent any Chief arrogating to himself power in the province. No sooner do the maliks seem to have returned to their villages than they began to concert measures to annoy us. They gathered armed men together, set at nought Shahbaz Khan, and, as I have said, have been bold enough to declare their intention of attacking Sherpur. That they will do this seems too absurd to believe, unless there is a general combination, but the precaution of building breastworks on the Bemaru Heights has been taken, and yesterday afternoon a small party of cavalry were sent out to reconnoitre past Paen Minar. They saw no signs of any gathering, but still there may be bands of men lurking about. We have but a very small infantry garrison in Sherpur at the present time, as 500 of the 92nd, 400 of the 3rd Sikhs, and 400 of the 5th Punjab Infantry are out in Maidan, while the troops sent to hold the road as far as Jugdulluck on the occasion of Yakub Khan’s journey down are, as already stated, very numerous. General Baker has, therefore, been warned to march to Sherpur with his brigade as rapidly as his foraging arrangements will allow.
4th December.
The attitude of the Kohistanis continues far from satisfactory, though they have not, as yet, been reckless enough to carry out their threat of attacking Sherpur. The author of the late disturbances is said to be the mother of Yakub Khan, a woman well advanced in years, but still capable, through agents, of doing much mischief. She is in Cabul with the harem of the ex-Amir; and as we do not war against women, she has had full liberty to intrigue with discontented chiefs. Of the gathering of hostile bands at Khoja Serai, south of Istalif, we have heard little of late. The man who will probably give us most trouble is Mir Butcha; while, to show how interests clash in this once “God-governed country,” I may state that the nephew of Daoud Shah, the ex-Commander-in-Chief of the Afghan army, is a prominent leader of the malcontents. His uncle is striving in every way to ingratiate himself with the British, and has so far succeeded, that he is freely made use of by our Political Officers. He has several times given valuable information and has been of great service in aiding us in the collection of supplies. He has warned us of the disaffected nature of the Kohistanis; and though he over-estimates their strength as opposed to our army, his warning has been partially justified by late events. The southern part of Kohistan, the Koh-Daman, is not so turbulent as that further north, about Charikar, in which Shahbaz Khan is supposed to exercise power. One road from Northern Turkistan passes over the Hindu Kush and runs through Charikar to Cabul; and this near proximity to a province, supposed at present to be safe from our army, has a tendency to foster local disaffection. In fact, the state of Turkistan re-acts upon all Kohistan, and indirectly upon the country about Cabul; and, in view of further complications, it is worth while looking critically upon the present position of that important province.
The capture of Cabul and the dispersion of such of the rebel regiments as fought at Charasia had a great effect, at first, in showing every province of Afghanistan that the impregnability of their capital was a myth. Our arms having been so successful in so short a time, checked the incipient state of anarchy into which the whole country was fast falling, as it seemed rational to suppose that an army which in a few days had captured Cabul would be more than equal to the task of visiting Charikar, Bamian, or even Balkh, if occasion required a further display of force. But, as time passed on, and it began to dawn upon the minds of men somewhat removed from the captured city that we were settling down for the winter in local quarters, the latent hostility to our presence in Afghanistan revived. In Turkistan it could scarcely be called a revival, as it had never died out. In that province were still organized regiments (well armed and boasting of being in possession of guns), whose sepoys had never suffered the disgrace of a defeat at our hands. It was not, therefore, surprising that our attempts to open up communication with Gholam Hyder, the Afghan Governor of the northern districts, should have failed. In the first place, it was extremely difficult to get trustworthy news of what was going on over the Koh-i-Baba range, and Gholam Hyder’s movements were absolutely unknown. He was believed to be at Mazar-i-Sharif, or Balkh, and rumours then reached us that he had left with Nek Mahomed to seek aid from the Russians over the Oxus. This news was never confirmed; but from incidents which occurred and were verified in several ways, it transpired that, wherever Gholam Hyder might be, his power was very limited. The troops on which he relied for support either revolted, as in the case of the regiments at Ghori, a post fifty miles south of Kunduz, the nearest station to Badakshan, on the Balkh, Tashkurgan, Kunduz, and Faizabad Road, or were deserted by their Generals, who sought safety with the British. The sepoys knew there was really no Government in existence, and, with arms in their hands, felt themselves masters of the situation. Badakshan was in revolt. Ghori and the district between Balkh and Badakshan could not do better than follow the example. They did so, and Gholam Hyder’s power was gradually narrowed, no attention being paid to his commands. To make his position of Governor still more absurd, an Uzbeg Chief, Mahomed Shah, appropriated the country about Sar-i-Pul and Maemena, distant only eighty miles to the west and south-west of Balkh. The nominal Governor of Turkistan, therefore, found himself at last ruling the tract of country south of the Oxus, as far as Tashkurgan and Aebak on the east, and Akcha on the west: southwards, to Bamian, he governed as far as men chose to obey him, and no further. From Aebak to Akcha, in a bee-line, is less than 130 miles: from the Oxus through Balkh to Bamian is 160 miles. This was—and for all we know is—the extent of territory Gholam Hyder governs. He is responsible to no one but himself: and as long as he can find money to pay his troops, he may rely upon exercising a certain influence. If we had got as far as Bamian, 100 miles from Cabul, he might still have retained a show of independence, Balkh being so near the Oxus that to escape to Bokhara would have been easy if our troops had been pushed on, before winter set in, towards the northern frontier. But Gholam Hyder has been left undisturbed; and now that the Kohistanis have broken faith with us, his name is being freely used to induce men to gather together. A few days ago it was reported that he had reached Charikar with eight guns and a force of cavalry; but later reports show this was a false rumour circulated in Cabul to excite the Wardaks and Ghilzais on the Ghazni Road and in Logar. He may have left Mazar i-Sharif; but if, as seems likely, he looks for Russian gold to aid him in keeping his hold upon Turkistan, he would scarcely have deserted Balkh and the neighbourhood for the questionable glory of raising an army of hill-men in Kohistan. What is far more probable is, that the regiments which disbanded and scattered to various villages are forming bands among themselves, and some of these may think Charikar as good a centre to make for as any other place. Turkistan can furnish any number of these sepoys; and as the Bamian route to Cabul is long and tiresome, they may prefer taking the road over the Hindu Kush to Kohistan, there to await for further development of events. If the British force menaces them, they can return to Turkistan: if we leave them alone, as we probably shall, they will have to find a way of living during the winter; and this to an Afghan well-armed, and with the bluster of a bully, is not a difficult task. From what I have written above, it will be seen that Northern and Eastern Turkistan is in the state into which it might have been expected to fall without a strong hand controlling it from Cabul. Of Herat I know nothing, as it is too far removed from us for even rumours to drift down to our camp.
With this condition of affairs in a province most open to outside influence and trans-Oxus intrigue, it becomes of serious moment to consider what modification of our policy, as set forth in the Proclamation of October 28th, is necessary. The Proclamation concluded as follows:—“The services of such sirdars and chiefs as assist in preserving order will be duly recognized; but all disturbers of the peace, and persons concerned in attacks upon the British authority, will meet with condign punishment. The British Government, after consultation with the principal sirdars, tribal chiefs, and others representing the interests and wishes of the various provinces and cities, will declare its will as to the future permanent arrangements to be made for the good government of the people.” Now these stilted periods either mean a great deal, or nothing at all. As regards Turkistan there are within it at the present moment numerous “disturbers of the peace,” as there are in Kohistan, Maidan, and Logar; and, to be consistent, we must fulfil our pledge to punish them condignly; if not now, at some future date. But these disturbers have this much in their favour, that beyond the empty words of the Proclamation they have had no evidence of the British authority which has supplanted that of the Amir. To them it is non-existent. It may flourish within 20 miles of Cabul and eastwards along the Jellalabad Valley to the Khyber, but it has never shown itself north of the Hindu Kush: it has left Balkh and Herat untouched: it has not been felt at Bamian or Ghazni, each within 100 miles of the 7,000 men encamped at Sherpur: how, then, is it to be acknowledged at more distant points? An authority, to be respected, must be tangible. The British authority at Cabul is in the tangible shape of a conquering army: it is respected—at Cabul. But Cabul is not Turkistan, and it is idle to expect a Proclamation, or even a thousand, to cause provincial governors, now free from all control, voluntarily to submit to an authority which makes, apparently, no effort to reach them. “Consultation with the principal sirdars and tribal chiefs representing the various provinces and cities of Afghanistan” is admirable from the view of closet politicians, but how if sirdars and chiefs decline to consult? It may have been intended, when the Proclamation was issued, that a demonstration of force should be made to bring about the consultation, but that demonstration has never been carried out—probably as much from political considerations as military difficulties. Sir Frederick Roberts and his army did their first work of capturing Cabul with such rapidity that, with troops pushed forward from Jellalabad to garrison the captured city and collect supplies for the winter, they might have ventured into Turkistan with the prospect of meeting with no opposition; and there might have been now, at Bamian and Balkh, agents who had been installed by our army and left in the position of governors ruling in our name. This programme was believed at one time to be on the cards, and we calculated how many marches it was to Bamian and the Oxus; but with no supports forthcoming up to the middle of November (a flying column at Jugdulluck was not worthy of the name), and with the usual stupid outcry at home against even the appearance of annexation, the project fell through. An attempt has been made to carry out the spirit of the Proclamation—to make “permanent arrangements for the good government of the people”—by consulting with such sirdars as have deemed it wise to join us. From their number four men have been chosen as governors of districts; but, so far, this system has been a failure. However much they may represent us, they are rejected of the people; and the three who, to use an official phrase, have “joined their appointments,” have had a very rough time of it. These were Shahbaz Khan, Mahomed Hasan Khan, and Abdulla Khan, all sirdars of local influence about Cabul, who were posted to Kohistan, Maidan, and Logar, respectively. (Turkistan, so far, has not received its governor, Sirdar Wali Mahomed, who had made many preparations for starting.) They were sent without armed escorts, and have been worried and threatened by malcontents, who have resented their intrusion with menaces that can scarcely be lightly regarded. In one case, that of Hasan Khan, son of Dost Mahomed and half-brother of Wali Mahomed, assassination has been added to threats. News was brought in from Naure Falad, the village in the Maidan Valley which General Baker’s force only left on the 1st instant, that a body of men, including some sepoys of the Ardal Regiments, had attacked the fort in which Hasan Khan was living, and had murdered our lately-appointed governor and one of his followers. They shot the old man through the head, and then hacked his body to pieces. Hasan Khan was quite a favourite in our camp at Maidan, his kind disposition and hearty frankness being qualities very foreign to the nature of the ordinary Afghan sirdar. The men who killed him are said to have come down the Darra Narkh from the hills about Bahadur Khan’s villages; and their action was in revenge for our burning of their villages. They returned to Upper Maidan as soon as they had murdered our representative, having, according to their own rude idea, shown us that they had no intention of accepting our authority. It is evident that from Ghazni northwards much excitement has arisen since General Baker’s departure. From Charikar and Logar our governors report that they are looked upon with disfavour, and even hated, by many maliks; and as they also have no escorts, their lives may be considered in jeopardy. When the Kohistanis, a few days ago, were up in arms, Shahbaz Khan’s position was very ticklish; and to relieve the pressure put upon him, Sirdar Ibrahim Khan, an elder brother of Yakub Khan, was sent out to bring back the chiefs to the allegiance they had promised when in our camp. Though he succeeded in inducing twenty or thirty of the minor chiefs of Koh-Daman to come in, he was reviled by others as a “Feringhi” and “Kafir,” and was warned to return to Sherpur, or his life would be taken. These are the results of the first experiments of governing provinces through chiefs selected by us as representing the interests and wishes of the people.