CHAPTER IV.
[April, 1842.]
The Forcing of the Khybur Pass—State of the Sikh Troops—Mr. Clerk at the Court of Lahore—Views of the Lahore Durbar—Efforts of Shere Singh—Assemblage of the Army at Jumrood—Advance to Ali-Musjid—Affairs at Jellalabad—Defeat of Akbar Khan—Junction of Pollock and Sale.
Whatever embarrassments may have lain in the way of General Pollock during these months of February and March, and compelled him, eager as he was to advance to the relief of Jellalabad, to remain inactive at Peshawur, it is certain that they were greatly increased by the reluctance of our Sikh allies to face the passes of the Khybur. The conduct of the Nujeeb battalions, which had mutinied on the very eve of Wild’s movement into the pass, left no room to hope for any effectual co-operation from that source. All the efforts of Captain Lawrence to obtain any assistance from the Sikh troops at Peshawur, through General Mehtab Singh,[48] had failed; and Lawrence was of opinion that the General’s conduct, in admitting the Afreedis into his camp, had established such a clear case of hostility, that he and his traitrous followers ought to be dismissed with disgrace. But now that Rajah Gholab Singh, accompanied by the Crown Prince of Lahore, was advancing with his regiments to Peshawur, as those regiments were composed of a different class of men, and the influence of the Rajah over these hill-levies was great, it was hoped, that on his junction with General Pollock’s camp, a new order of things would be established. But it soon became painfully evident to the General that very little cordial co-operation was to be looked for from the Jummoo Rajah and his troops.
When, early in February, Pollock, on his way back to Peshawur, reached the Attock, he found the left bank of the river occupied by the Sikh troops under Gholab Singh, whilst the Nujeeb battalions, which had disgraced themselves a few weeks before, were posted on the opposite side.[49] Captain Lawrence, who had left Peshawur to expedite the Rajah’s movements, was then in the Sikh camp; and M’Caskill’s brigade was a few marches in the rear. There appeared every likelihood, therefore, of a collision that would impede the progress of the British troops; but the exertions of Pollock and Lawrence were crowned with success; and the Sikh force moved off before M’Caskill’s brigade arrived on the banks of the river. On the 14th, Gholab Singh and the Prince reached Peshawur. On the 20th, Pollock held a conference with the Rajah—Lawrence and Mackeson being present—and a day or two afterwards, forwarding an abstract of the conversation that had taken place between them, wrote to the Supreme Government: “I confess that I have no expectation of any assistance from the Sikh troops.”
On the conduct of Gholab Singh at this time, some suspicion has been cast. It has been said that he not only instigated, through the agency of an influential messenger, the Nujeeb battalions to rebel, but carried on a friendly correspondence with our Afghan enemies at Caubul. That there was no hearty co-operation, is true; but hearty co-operation was not to be expected. Gholab Singh had other work on hand at that time; and, whilst he was playing and losing a great game in Thibet, it would have been strange, indeed, if he had thrown his heart into the work which he was called upon to perform for others at the mouth of the Khybur Pass. He had no confidence in his troops. He had no inducement to exert himself.[50] The latter obstacle, it was thought, might be removed; and Lawrence and Mackeson were of opinion that it would be well to bribe him into activity by the offer of Jellalabad, to be held by him independently of the Sikh ruler; but Mr. Clerk was of opinion that such a measure would be neither politic nor honest.[51] It would, indeed, at that time, have been an injustice done by the British Government against both the other parties to the tripartite treaty. It would have injuriously affected both Shah Soojah and Shere Singh; and would have involved the Jummoo Rajah in difficulties and perplexities from which he would have found it difficult to extricate himself. Indeed, Captain Mackeson himself very soon came to the opinion that, if we desired to bribe Gholab Singh into co-operation by promises of territorial aggrandisement, it was necessary that we should lay our finger on some other part of the map than that which represented Jellalabad; and he asked whether Shikarpoor, which Runjeet Singh had coveted, and which the tripartite treaty had snatched from him, “would not do better.”[52]
In the mean while, it appeared to Mr. Clerk that his presence at the Court of the Sikh ruler, would have the effect of cementing the alliance between the two states, and enable him the better to obtain from the Lahore Government the military assistance that was so greatly needed. He had never doubted the good faith of the Maharajah himself. Whatever selfish motives he may have attributed to him, it was not to be doubted that at this time his feelings and his conduct alike were those of a friend. Clerk declared that no native state had ever taken such great pains to accelerate the movements of our troops by preventing plunder, supplying boats at the ferries, and furnishing food for the use of our army. The Maharajah had given us the best aid and the best advice, and in the opinion of the British agent was willing to act up to the spirit of the Tripartite treaty. He was, indeed, the only man in the Punjab who really desired our success.
On the 2nd of March, Clerk arrived at Umritsur, resolute to “get what he could out of the Sikhs.”[53] Early on the following morning he waited on Shere Singh. The first visit was a visit of condolence on the deaths of Kurruck Singh and his son. The attendance at the Durbar was small. No troops were in waiting beyond a single wing of a battalion drawn up to salute the arrival and departure of the British Mission. The Court were in mourning of white. Everything about the Durbar was quiet and subdued. It was a meeting of condolence on both sides. Clerk’s expressions of regret were reciprocated by those which the Sikh ruler freely uttered with reference to the death of Sir William Macnaghten. Dhyan Singh and the Fakir Azizoodeen were both loud in their praises of the envoy; and expressed a lively hope that the treacherous Afghans would be duly punished for their offences. After other complimentary interchanges, the Mission departed; and on the following morning proceeded to pay a visit of congratulation to the new ruler. The Court now wore a different aspect. Along the garden-walks stretched walls of crimson broadcloth, and lines of armed Goorcherrahs, in new appointments, glittered along the paths. Everything was bright and joyous. The courtiers shone in splendid apparel. The Maharajah himself was bright with jewels, of which the Koh-i-noor was the lustrous chief. The young Rajah Heera Singh, old Runjeet’s minion, radiant with emeralds and pearls, sate beside Shere Singh, whilst his father, the minister, stood beside the regal chair. The officers of the British Mission sate on a row of chairs opposite; and the old Fakir Azizoodeen was seated on the floor beside the chair of the British chief. The conversation was of a general and complimentary character. The Khelat of accession was presented to the new ruler; the fidelity of the Sikh Government and the character of its administration were belauded; and then the Mission took its departure.
On the 5th, Clerk, having intimated his desire to wait on the Maharajah, to discuss matters of business, was invited to attend at his own time. He went in the afternoon; and at once solicited the honour of a private audience. Heera Singh was sitting beside him, and other courtiers were in attendance. A motion of the hand dismissed them all; and Clerk was invited to seat himself in Heera Singh’s chair. But the British minister, not wishing that the conversation should be carried on without any witnesses, suggested the recall of Dhyan Singh and the Fakir, who, with Heera Singh and one or two others, were present at the interview. Clerk had a difficult game to play at this time. He had to obtain the most effectual co-operation of the Sikh Government that could be elicited in this hour of trial; and yet he was unwilling to lay bare to the Sikh Durbar the real designs of his own government. He had been directed to disclose those designs to the Sikhs—to intimate that it was the intention of the British government, after rescuing the Jellalabad garrison, to withdraw the army to the British frontier; but inwardly indignant at the feebleness of the policy which was favoured at Calcutta, he shrunk from avowing these intentions of withdrawal, and endeavoured rather to elicit the views of the Lahore Cabinet than to expose the designs of his own. But Shere Singh was not inclined to be less cautious than the British envoy. When Clerk asked what he intended to do to rescue Sale’s garrison from destruction, the Maharajah replied that the Sikhs were very desirous to aid the British Government, but that the matter called for consideration. Bristling up at the coolness of this reply, Clerk said that the whole question of the alliance between the two states might call for future consideration; but that the present moment when the safety of a beleagured garrison was at stake, was no time for consideration. Qualifying then his former remark, the Sikh ruler said that he meant only that the mode of procedure called for consideration, and he began to talk about the advantage of erecting sungahs and crowning the heights of the Khybur Pass[54]—to all of which Clerk readily assented.
Then Dhyan Singh, who all this time had been sitting silent, with a dejected air and drooping head, looked up, and with a cheerful countenance began to take part in the conversation. He had before seemed to think that the purport of the discussion was to consign his brother, Gholab Singh, to inevitable destruction; but he now said that he was certain the troops under the command of that chief would willingly co-operate with the British; but that “an iron lock required an iron key.” He then abruptly asked why more British troops were not sent;[55] and the Fakir Azizoodeen whispered the same question. Clerk could have blurted out an answer to this; but it was one which would have opened the eyes of the Sikh Durbar, more than it was desirable to open them, to the true nature of British policy at this time, and the true character of our rulers. He, therefore, answered in general terms that the British government were collecting troops; but that, nevertheless, the co-operation of the Sikh Government was much desired; and, whilst he added that an intimation would be sent to General Pollock regarding the manner in which the Durbar recommended the war in the Khybur to be carried on, Shere Singh promised to send the desired instructions to Gholab Singh; and so the conference ended.
True to his word, the Maharajah at once despatched instructions to Gholab Singh to co-operate heartily and steadily with General Pollock and Captain Mackeson; and it is believed that at the same time Dhyan Singh wrote privately to his brother in a similar strain of exhortation and encouragement. But it was plain to Mr. Clerk that both the Sovereign and his minister regarded, with feelings of painful anxiety, the necessity of avoiding an open rupture with the British Government, by aiding in the perilous work that lay before the troops posted at Peshawur. Mr. Clerk remained at the Maharajah’s Court, which had removed itself from Umritsur to Lahore, and exerted himself to keep up the fidelity of our ally to the right point of effective co-operation. But as time advanced, Shere Singh became more and more uneasy and apprehensive. It appeared to him that a failure in the Khybur Pass would bring down such a weight of unpopularity upon him that his very throne would be jeopardised by the disaster. One day—it was the 4th of April—holding Durbar in the Huzooree-Bagh, the Maharajah appeared ill at ease. Having conversed a little while on general topics, but with an abstracted air, he ordered the intelligence forwarded to him by the Peshawur news-writers to be read to the British envoy; then took him by the hand and led him to another seat in the garden. Alone with the English gentleman the Sikh ruler opened out his heart to him. He was concerned, he said, to learn that the British authorities at Peshawur were making no progress in their negotiations for the purchase of a safe passage through the Khybur, and were disinclined to accept the offers of the old Barukzye Governor of Peshawur, Sultan Mahomed, who had declared his willingness to “divide, scatter, and make terms with” our enemies. He apprehended that there would be much fighting and much slaughter; and it was only too probable that the Sikh troops at Peshawur, seeing clearly the danger of the movement, and not by any means understanding the advantages that would accrue to them from it, would refuse to enter the pass. Or if they entered it, it was probable that they would suffer severely at the hands of the Afghans—and in either case, as he had been continually writing to Peshawur to impress upon the officers there the necessity of effective co-operation with the British, the odium would descend upon him, and perhaps cost him his throne. It was easier to listen to all this than to reply to it. Clerk saw as plainly as the Maharajah himself, that as the Sikh troops had always evinced an insuperable repugnance to enter the Khybur Pass, even when the glory of the Khalsa was to be advanced by the movement, and the dominions of the Lahore Government to be extended, it was hardly reasonable to expect them to show greater alacrity in the advancement of the objects of another nation whom they cordially detested, and whose disasters they regarded with secret delight.[56]
But whilst Shere Singh was thus expressing his misgivings at Lahore, and the British agent was inwardly acknowledging the reasonable character of the Maharajah’s doubts, the Sikh troops at Peshawur were settling down into a state of quiet obedience, and making up their minds to penetrate the Khybur Pass. The letters despatched by Shere Singh and his minister to Avitabile and Gholab Singh had not been without their effect. A confidential friend and adviser of the Sikh ruler—Boodh Singh—had arrived at Peshawur, charged with messages from the King and the minister, which were supposed to have had an effect upon the Jummoo Rajah, sudden and great. Lawrence, too, had been busy in the Sikh camp, and little anticipating the circumstances under which it was decreed that they should one day meet in that lovely province of the old Douranee Empire over which the Jummoo Rajah since exercised undisputed dominion, had been holding long conferences with Gholab Singh.[57] The good tact, good temper, and quiet firmness of General Pollock, had been exercised with the best results, and the arrival of further reinforcements of European troops had done much to give new confidence to the Khalsa. And so it happened, that when General Pollock prepared to enter the Khybur Pass, the Sikh troops had resolved not to suffer their faces to be blackened before all India; and really, when the hour for exertion came, did more for the honour of their own arms and the support of the British Government than the most sanguine of our officers had ventured to expect.
The dragoons and the horse artillery reached Peshawur on the 29th of March, and Pollock at once made his preparations to enter the Khybur Pass. On the 31st he pitched his camp at Jumrood, in the expectation of advancing on the following morning; but new elements of delay arose. The camel-drivers were deserting. Gholab Singh had not moved up his camp. And, above all, the rain was descending in floods. It would have dispirited the troops to have moved them forward at such a time and rendered more difficult the advance of the baggage. Pollock had done his best to diminish to the least possible amount the number of carriage-cattle that were to move with him into the Khybur Pass. But an Indian commander has no more difficult duty than this. Under no circumstances is the general addiction to much baggage very easily overcome. Men are not readily persuaded to leave their comforts behind them. A fine soldierly appeal was issued to the army;[58] and men of all ranks felt that it came from an officer who was not less ready to make sacrifices himself than to call upon others to make them.[59] Circumstances, too, at this time, tended to reduce the amount of the baggage. The camel-drivers had deserted in such numbers, that there was not even sufficient carriage for the ammunition. The 33rd Regiment, which had just arrived at Peshawur, could not come up to the encamping-ground for want of cattle; and another day’s halt was the result of the delay.[60] In the meanwhile, the Sepoys were deserting from Wild’s Brigade; and no satisfactory progress was making in the negotiations which Mackeson had been carrying on for the purchase of a free passage through the Khybur from the Afreedi Maliks.[61] But there was one advantage in the delay. It gave time for the Sikh troops to prepare themselves, after their own fashion, to co-operate with our army, and General Pollock felt that whatever might be the amount of active assistance to be derived from the efforts of our allies, a combined movement would have a good moral effect.
The order of march was now laid down, and was well studied by commanding officers. Brigadier Wild was to command the advance guard, and General M’Caskill the rear. At the head of the column were to march the grenadier company of the 9th Queen’s Regiment, one company of the 26th Native Infantry, three companies of the 30th Native Infantry, and two companies of the 33rd Native Infantry, under Major Barnewell, of the 9th. Then were to follow the Sappers and Miners, nine pieces of artillery,[62] and two squadrons of the 3rd Dragoons. After these, the camels, laden with all the treasure of the force and a large portion of ammunition, were to move on, followed by a squadron of the 1st Native Cavalry. Then the Commissariat stores, protected by two companies of the 53rd Native Infantry, were to advance, and a squadron of the 1st Cavalry were to follow. Then the baggage and camp-followers, covered by a Ressalah of Irregular Horse, and a squadron of the 1st Native Cavalry, were to move forward, with a further supply of ammunition, and litters, and camel-panniers for the sick.
The rear-guard was to consist of three foot-artillery guns—the 10th Light Cavalry—two Ressalahs of Irregular Horse—two squadrons of the 3rd Dragoons—two horse-artillery guns—three companies of the 60th Native Infantry; one company of the 6th Native Infantry; and one company of her Majesty’s 9th Foot.
These details formed the centre column which was to make its way through the pass. Two other columns, composed entirely of infantry, were told off into parties, and instructed to crown the heights on either side of the pass. Two companies of her Majesty’s 9th Foot, four companies of the 26th Native Infantry, with 400 jezailchees, were placed under the command of Colonel Taylor, of the 9th Foot; seven companies of the 30th Native Infantry, under Major Payne; three companies of the 60th Native Infantry, under Captain Riddle; four companies of the 64th Native Infantry, under Major Anderson, with some details of Broadfoot’s sappers, and a company and a half of her Majesty’s 9th Foot; the party being commanded by Major Davis, of the 9th, made up the right crowning column.
The left crowning column was to consist of two companies of her Majesty’s 9th Foot, four companies of the 26th Native Infantry, and 200 jezailchees, under Major Huish, of the 26th Native Infantry; seven companies of the 53rd Native Infantry, under Major Hoggan, of that corps; three companies of the 60th Native Infantry, under Captain Napleton, of that regiment; and four and a half companies of the 64th Native Infantry, and one and a half companies of her Majesty’s 9th Foot, under Colonel Moseley, of the 64th. With these last were to go some auxiliaries, supplied by Torabaz Khan, the loyal chief of Lalpoorah. The flanking parties were to advance in successive detachments of two companies, at intervals of 500 yards.
The order of march having been thus arranged and judicious rules laid down for the guidance of commanding officers,[63] Pollock marched his force to Jumrood. On the 4th of April, whilst the troops were encamped at that place, he issued further and more specific orders to regulate the movements of the following morning. In the evening, the General went round to all his commanding officers to ascertain that they thoroughly understood the orders that had been issued for their guidance; and to learn from them what was the temper of their men. There did not seem to be much cause for inquietude on this score. The morale of the Sepoys had greatly improved.
At three o’clock on the morning of the 5th of April the army commenced its march. It moved off in the dim twilight, without beat of drum or sound of bugle. Quietly the crowning columns prepared to ascend. The heights on either side were covered with the enemy, but so little was the mode of attack, which the British General had determined upon, expected by the enemy, that it was not until our flankers had achieved a considerable ascent that the Khyburees were aware of their advance. Then, as the morning dawned, the positions of the two forces were clearly revealed to each other; and the struggle commenced.
Across the mouth of the pass the enemy had thrown up a formidable barrier. It was made of mud, and huge stones, and heavy branches of trees. The Khyburees had not wanted time to mature their defensive operations; and they had thrown up a barricade of considerable strength. It was not a work upon which our guns could play with any good effect; but it was a small matter effectually to destroy the barrier when once our light infantry had swept the hills. And that work was soon going on gallantly and successfully on both sides, whilst the centre column, drawn up in battle-array, was waiting the issue of the contest. Nothing could have proved better than the arrangements of the General; and no General could have wished his plan of attack to be carried out with better effect. On the left, the crowning column was soon in vigorous and successful action. On the right, the precipitous nature of the ground was such that it seemed to defy the eager activity of Taylor and his men. But he stole round the base of the mountain unseen, and found a more practicable ascent than that which he had first tried. Then on both sides the British infantry were soon hotly engaged with the mountaineers, clambering up the precipitous peaks, and pouring down a hot and destructive fire upon the surprised and disconcerted Khyburees. They had not expected that our disciplined troops, who had, as it were, been looking at the Khybur for some months, would be more than a match for them upon their native hills. But so it was. Our British infantry were beating them in every direction, and everywhere the white dresses of the Khyburees were seen flying across the hills. The Duke of Wellington had said, some time before, that he “had never heard that our troops were not equal, as well in their personal activity as by their arms, to contend with and overcome any natives of hills whatever.”[64] And now our British infantry and our Bengal Sepoys were showing how well able they were to meet the Khyburees on their native hills. The mountain-rangers, whom Macnaghten wished to raise, because Sale’s brigade had been harassed by the Ghilzyes, could not have clambered over the hills with greater activity than our British troops, and would not have been half as steady or half as faithful.
It was now time for Pollock to advance. The centre column did not attempt to move forward until the flankers had fought their way to the rear of the mouth of the pass. But when he had fairly turned the enemy’s position, he began to destroy the barrier, and prepared to advance into the pass. The enemy had assembled in large numbers at the mouth, but finding themselves outflanked—finding that they had to deal with different men and a different system from that which they had seen a few months before, they gradually withdrew, and, without opposition, Pollock now cleared his way through the barricade, and pushed into the pass with his long string of baggage. The difficulties of the remainder of the march were now mainly occasioned by the great extent of this convoy. Pollock was conveying both ammunition and provisions to Sale’s garrison; and there were many more beasts of burden, therefore, than were used by his own force. But skilfully was the march conducted. Encumbered as he was, the General was compelled to move slowly forward. The march to Ali-Musjid occupied the greater part of the day. The heat was intense. The troops suffered greatly from thirst. But they all did their duty well. Whatever doubts may have lingered to the last in Pollock’s mind, were now wholly dispersed; and when he reached Ali-Musjid in safety, and had time to think over the events of the day, nothing refreshed him more than the thought that the Sepoys had fairly won back the reputation they had lately lost.[65]
The enemy had evacuated Ali-Musjid in the morning, and now Ferris’s jezailchees were sent in to garrison the place. A part of Pollock’s force, with the head-quarters, bivouacked near the fortress. The night was bitterly cold; but the command of the heights was maintained, and the men, both European and Natives, who had been under arms since three o’clock in the morning, did not utter a complaint. They appeared to feel that they had done a great work; but that the utmost vigilance was necessary to secure the advantage they had gained. The enemy were still hovering about, and all night long firing upon our people. It was necessary to be on the alert.
It was a great thing to have accomplished such a march with so little loss of life, and no loss of baggage. Avitabile said that Pollock and his force were going to certain destruction. Had he moved precipitately with his main column into the pass, he would probably have been driven back with great slaughter; but the precaution he took in crowning the heights and turning the enemy’s position, secured him, though not without some fighting the whole way, a safe passage. The enemy are said to have lost about 300 men killed, and 600 or 800 wounded.
The Sikh troops moved up by another pass to Ali-Musjid. Pollock, still doubtful of their fidelity, and not desiring to have them too near his own troops, suggested that when he pushed forward by the Shadee-Bagiaree Pass, they should take the other, known as the Jubogee.[66] Pollock had entered into a covenant with Gholab Singh for the occupation of the pass by the Sikh troops until the 5th of June. It was necessary that he should keep open his communications with the rear; and the Sikhs undertook to do it. But when Pollock marched to Jellalabad, they began to bargain with certain Afreedi chiefs, hostile to our interests, to keep open the pass for the stipulated time, for a certain sum of money, thus making known to the tribes the time for which they had covenanted to hold it.[67] Early in May the Sikhs suddenly quitted their position at Ali-Musjid and returned to Jumrood, seizing some of our baggage-cattle on the way, throwing their loads on the ground, and employing the animals to carry their baggage.[68]
In the mean while, Pollock had reached Jellalabad. “We found the fort strong,” he wrote to a friend; “the garrison healthy; and, except for wine and beer, better off than we are. They were, of course, delighted to see us. We gave three cheers as we passed the colours; and the band of each regiment played as it came up. It was a sight worth seeing. All appeared happy.”[69] It was, indeed, a happy meeting. Sale’s little garrison had been shut up for five months in Jellalabad. They had long been surrounded with perils, lessened only by their own daring. They had looked in vain for succours, until they became so familiar with danger that they had begun to feel secure in the midst of it. But they were weary of their isolation, and were eager to see their countrymen again. Right welcome, therefore, was the arrival of Pollock’s force; and happy the day on which it appeared with streaming colours and gay music. But the prospects of the garrison had brightened; and if Pollock had to speak of his victories, Sale, too, had his to narrate.
Pollock, before he entered the pass, had received intelligence of the gallant sortie made by the garrison on the 1st of April, when they swept away from the covering parties of the enemy a flock of 500 sheep and goats, which had secured them a further ten days’ supply of meat.[70] Writing of this to General Pollock, Macgregor had said: “Our troops of all arms are in the highest pluck, and they seem never so happy as when fighting with the enemy. I verily believe we could capture Mahomed Akbar’s camp, even with our present means, were it our game to incur the risk of an attempt of the kind.”[71] This was lightly spoken; a mere outburst of the abundant animal spirits of the writer; but Pollock was scarcely on the other side of Ali-Musjid, when he received tidings which made it clear to him that now the light word had become a grave fact, and the capture of Mahomed Akbar’s camp had been actually accomplished.
And now that they had reached Jellalabad, every one in Pollock’s camp was eager for details of this great victory. It was, indeed, a dashing exploit. On the 5th of April, Macgregor’s spies brought in tidings from Akbar Khan’s camp that Pollock had been beaten back, with great slaughter, in the Khybur Pass. On the morning of the 6th, the Sirdar’s guns broke out into a royal salute, in honour of the supposed victory. Other reports then came welling in to Jellalabad. It was said that there was another revolution at Caubul, and that the Sirdar was about to break up his camp and hasten to the capital. In either case, it seemed that the time had come to strike a blow at Akbar Khan’s army; so a council of war was held, and the question gravely debated. It is said that councils of war “never fight.” But the council which now assembled to determine whether the Sirdar’s camp should be attacked on the following morning, decided the question in the affirmative. Unsurpassed in personal courage by any daring youth in his camp, and ever eager to fight under another man’s command, Sale sometimes shrunk from energetic action when it brought down upon him a burden of responsibility. But Havelock was at his elbow—a man of rare coolness and consummate judgment, with military talents of a high order, ripened by experience, and an intrepidity in action not exceeded by that of his fighting commander. He it was who, supported by other zealous spirits, urged the expediency of an attack on the enemy’s position, and laid down the plan of operations most likely to ensure success. Sale yielded with reluctance—but he did yield; and it was determined that at daybreak on the following morning they should go out and fight.
Sale issued directions for the formation of three columns of infantry, the centre consisting of her Majesty’s 13th Light Infantry, mustering 500 bayonets, under Colonel Dennie; the left, under Lieutenant-Colonel Monteith, C.B.; and the right, composed of one company of the 13th Light Infantry and one of the 35th Native Infantry, and the detachment of Sappers, under Lieutenant Orr (the severity of Captain Broadfoot’s wound still rendering him non-effective), the whole amounting to 360 men, commanded by Captain Havelock, of her Majesty’s 13th Light Infantry. These were to be supported by the fire of the guns of No. 6, Light Field Battery, under Captain Abbott, to which Captain Backhouse, of Shah Soojah’s Artillery, was attached, and by the whole of the small cavalry force under Captain Oldfield and Lieutenant Mayne.[72] Such were the components of the little force that was to attack the camp of the Sirdar.
At daybreak they moved out of the fort by the western gate. Akbar Khan was ready to receive them. He had drawn out his troops before the camp, with his right resting on a fort, and his left on the Caubul river. He had not less than 6000 men. The plan of action proposed by Havelock was, that they should make a sudden and vigorous onslaught on the Sirdar’s camp and drive him into the river, which at that time was a rapid and unfordable torrent. But, abandoning this simple device, Sale, on issuing from the gate, ordered Dennie forward to attack a small fort, several hundred yards to the right, from which the enemy had often molested us before, and in which they were now strongly posted. Gallantly, at the head of his men, went Dennie to the attack—a brave and chivalrous soldier ever in the advance—but an Afghan marksman covered him with his piece, and the ball passed through Dennie’s body.[73] The movement was a false one; it cost us the life of this good soldier, and well nigh lost us the battle. The force being thus divided, the Afghan horsemen came down impetuously on Havelock’s weak infantry column; and if he had not persuaded the General to recall the 13th from the fort, the action might have had a different result. The recall was not too late. Sale now gave his orders for a general attack on the Sirdar’s camp; and his orders were carried into effect with an impetuosity and success worthy of the defenders of Jellalabad. In the forcible language of the General’s despatch, on which I cannot improve, “The artillery advanced at the gallop, and directed a heavy fire upon the Afghan centre, whilst two of the columns of infantry penetrated the line near the same point, and the third forced back its left from its support on the river, into the stream of which some of his horse and foot were driven. The Afghans made repeated attempts to check our advance by a smart fire of musketry, by throwing forward heavy bodies of horse, which twice threatened the detachments of foot under Captain Havelock, and by opening upon us three guns from a battery screened by a garden wall, and said to have been served under the personal superintendence of the Sirdar. But in a short time they were dislodged from every point of their position, their cannon taken, and their camp involved in a general conflagration. The battle was over—and the enemy in full retreat in the direction of Lughman by about 7 A. M. We have made ourselves masters of two cavalry standards, recaptured four guns lost by the Caubul and Gundamuck forces, the restoration of which, to our government, is matter of much honest exultation among our troops, seized and destroyed a great quantity of materiel and ordnance stores, and burnt the whole of the enemy’s tents. In short, the defeat of Mahomed Akbar in open field, by the troops whom he had boasted of blockading, has been complete and signal.” Although our cavalry were not stopped in pursuit, as some held they might have been with advantage, the enemy’s loss was severe. “The field of battle was strewed with the bodies of men and horses, and the richness of the trappings of some of the latter seemed to attest that persons of distinction had been among the casualties.” The loss on our side was small. Eight privates of the 13th Native Infantry, and two of the 35th Native Infantry, were killed. Three officers and about fifty men were wounded.
Great was the joy which the intelligence of the victories of Pollock and Sale diffused throughout all India; and in no one breast did so much of gladness bubble up as in that of Lord Ellenborough. He wrote, that although it was his misfortune not to be a soldier by profession, he knew how to appreciate soldierly qualities and soldierly acts. It was then that, being at Benares at the time, he issued that well-known notification which conferred on Sale’s brigade the honourable title by which it has since been so well known—the title of the “Illustrious Garrison.”[74] That garrison had now done its work, and taken its place in history. Sale ceased to command at Jellalabad; and soon letters from Lord Ellenborough set aside the political functions of Macgregor. In Pollock and Nott, on either side of Afghanistan, had been vested supreme political authority; and Macgregor soon took his place beside the General, simply as his aide-de-camp. By Pollock’s side, too, holding the office of his military secretary, was Shakespear, who had done such good service in liberating the Russian slaves at Khiva; who had won his spurs by this Central-Asian exploit, and returned to India Sir Richmond Shakespear. Pollock knew the worth of these men, and turned their experience to account. But the reign of the “Politicals” was at an end. Lord Ellenborough had determined to dethrone them.
The Governor-General knew his men. He did well in trusting Pollock and Nott. But after the melancholy illustration of the trustworthiness of military officers of high rank displayed in the conduct of affairs at Caubul, the time hardly seemed a happy one for opening out the question of political and military responsibilities, and their relative effects upon the interests of the state. It is right, however, now that it has been stated how the whole system, which exercised so great an influence over events in Afghanistan, was abolished by the Governor-General, that something should be said upon the general character of the diplomatic functionaries employed on the great field of Central Asia.
There is no single controversial topic which has struck out so many sparks of bad feeling—so much personality, so much bitter invective, and I fear it must be added, so much reckless mendacity, as this question of political agency. At one time a “Political” was, by many writers, considered fair game. To hunt him down with all conceivable calumny and vituperation, was regarded as a laudable achievement. Every one had a stone to throw at him—every one howled at him with execration, or shouted at him in derision. Temperate men on this topic, became intemperate; charitable men, uncharitable; sagacity ceased to be sagacious; discrimination ceased to discriminate. All alike lifted up their voices to swell the chorus of popular indignation.
The Caubul outburst, with its attendant horrors, filled this cup of bitter feeling to the brim. It would be difficult to embody, in a page of mere description, the popular notion of an Afghan “Political.” He was believed to be a very conceited, a very arrogant, a very ignorant, and a very unfeeling personage; a pretender, who, on the strength of a little smattering of Persian and some interest, perhaps petticoat interest, in high places, had obtained an appointment, the duties of which he was not capable of performing, and the trust involved in which he was well-nigh certain to abuse. He was looked upon as a creature whose blunders were as mischievous as his pretensions were ridiculous; one, whose ideas of diplomacy were limited to the cultivation of a moustache and the faculty of sitting cross-legged on the ground; who talked largely about Durbar, rode out with a number of Sowars at his heels; and was always on the point of capturing some fugitive chief, and never achieving it after all. But this was only the more favourable aspect of the picture. There was another and a darker side. He was sometimes represented as a roaring lion, going about seeking whom he should devour; unveiling Afghan ladies and pulling Afghan gentlemen by the beard; inviting chiefs to a conference and then betraying them; blowing Sirdars from guns; conniving at wholesale massacre; bribing brothers to betray brothers, fathers their sons; keeping fierce dogs to hound them at innocent countrymen; desecrating mosques, insulting Moollahs, trampling on the Koran—in a word, committing every conceivable outrage that cruelty and lust could devise. There was no amount of baseness, indeed, of which these men were not supposed to be capable; no licentiousness to which they were not addicted; no crimes which they did not commit. This was the popular notion of an “Afghan Political.” It was constantly illustrated in oral conversation and in the local literature of the day. Men talked and wrote upon the subject as though the question—if ever question there were—had long ago been settled by common consent; and it was not until the war had been brought to a close, that a doubt was raised respecting the validity of the charges so generally brought against the Ishmaels of diplomacy in the East.
Very much of this is now mere exploded slander. I cannot say that the political officers, who distinguished themselves throughout the Afghanistan campaign, have lived down the calumny of which they were the victims. Very few of the number survive. But a reaction, in public opinion, is discernible,—a growing disposition to do justice, at least to the memories of the dead. Men speak and write more temperately on the subject. Exaggeration no longer over-strides all our utterances on this topic; and, in some cases, full justice has been done to the noble qualities of head and heart which have adorned, perhaps do adorn men amongst us, under the great “Political” reproach.
It would serve no good purpose to run from one extreme into the other. It is the evil of sudden reactions of popular feeling, that men escape from one error only to be precipitated into another of an opposite class. The system of political agency is not one of unmixed good; nor are political agents exempt from the common frailties of humanity. Many mistakes were unquestionably committed; sometimes a stronger word might without exaggeration have been applied to the things that were done in Afghanistan by our diplomatic agents. Diplomacy is, at all times, a dangerous game. It has seldom, if ever, been played in any part of the world, without some loss of purity, some departure from integrity. In Europe, the diplomatist treads a tortuous path. Guile is met with guile. Fraud is often counteracted by fraud. Minister overreaches minister. One state jockeys another. And, in the affairs of nations, arts are resorted to, which, in the concerns of private life, would stamp the wily plotter with infamy not to be escaped. But, in the East, in the midst of the worst contagion, tempted on every side, stimulated by the fear of failure, irritated by the duplicity of others, far greater is the difficulty of preserving intact the diplomatic integrity which is exposed to so many corrupting influences. I am not asserting the propriety of fighting all men with their own weapons. I have no faith whatever in the worldly wisdom, apart from all considerations of right and wrong, of playing off wile against wile—meeting treachery with treachery—lie with lie. Such tactics may succeed for a season; but, in the long run, truth and honesty will be found the most effective weapons. All I desire to plead in behalf of our Oriental diplomatists is the extraordinary temptations to which they have been exposed. Many of them were necessarily without experience in the difficult game; and, therefore, apprehensive of failure—little confident in themselves, when called upon to encounter, perhaps for the first time, the deep duplicity of Eastern intrigue. Fearful of being drawn into a snare, and deeply impressed with a sense of the responsibilities resting upon them, they have sometimes, in their eagerness to bring negotiations to a successful issue, departed from that strict line of integrity, which we could wish our countrymen ever to maintain. This much at least must be admitted—but who has ever gained a reputation as a skilful diplomatist without some deviation from the straight path of open and truthful manliness of conduct?
“If a man is too stupid or too lazy to drill his company,” wrote General Nott, “he often turns sycophant, cringer to the heads of departments, and is made a ‘Political,’ and of course puts the government to an enormous expense, and disgraces the character of his country.” Nothing was ever more unlike the truth. The Afghan “Politicals” were among the best soldiers in the country. Many of them, as Todd, Rawlinson, Nicolson, &c., were practised drill-instructors and had shown an especial fitness for this particular duty in disciplining foreign troops or raw levies. And no one, who takes account of the most honourable incidents of the Afghan War, will overlook the military services rendered by Pottinger, Macgregor, H. M. Lawrence, Mackeson, Broadfoot, Outram, and others, who are known to us as Political Agents. There have been no finer soldiers in the Indian Army than some of those who distinguished themselves during the war in Afghanistan, under the unpopular designation of “Politicals.”