On the 24th May I held a parade in honour of the Queen's birthday, at which 6,450 officers and men were [present].[3] They were thoroughly fit and workmanlike, and being anxious that the tribesmen should see what grand soldiers I had at hand should an advance be necessary, I invited all the neighbouring clans to witness the display. The Afghans were seated in picturesque groups round the flag-staff, when suddenly, as the first round of the feu-de-joie was fired, they started to their feet, thinking that treachery was intended, and that they were caught in a trap: they took to their heels, and we had considerable difficulty in bringing them back, and in making them understand that the firing which had so upset their equanimity was only a sign of rejoicing on that auspicious anniversary. By degrees they became assured that there was no thought of taking an unfair advantage of them, and at the conclusion of the ceremony they were made happy by a present of sheep. In the afternoon an impromptu rifle meeting was got up. The matchlock men could not hold their own against our good shots armed with Martini-Henry rifles, a fact which evidently greatly impressed the tribesmen, some of whom then and there came forward and promised that if I should be required to advance on Kabul they would not oppose me.
Making Friends with the Tribesmen I took advantage of our improved relations with the Afghans, consequent on the ratification of the treaty, to enlarge our geographical knowledge of the passes which lead from Kuram towards Kabul, and the independent territories in the neighbourhood. The presence of the troops, no doubt, had something to say to the cheerful acquiescence of the tribesmen in these explorations, which they appeared to look upon as the result of a wish to make ourselves acquainted with the country assigned to us by the treaty, and having, to use their own expression, lifted for us the purdah (curtain) of their country, they became most friendly, and took a curious pleasure in pointing out to us the points of defence at which they would have opposed us, had we been advancing as enemies.
Towards the end of June I heard from Lord Lytton that he wished me to be one of the military members of a Commission of Inquiry into army expenditure and organization which was about to be convened at Simla, if I thought I could be spared from my post at Kuram. The people of the valley had by this time settled down so contentedly, and the tribesmen showed themselves so peacefully disposed, that I thought I could safely leave my post for a time, before returning to take up my abode in the neighbourhood for some years, as I hoped to do, when my appointment as Frontier Commissioner should have received the sanction of the authorities in England.
Meanwhile, however, some temporary arrangement was necessary for the administration of Kuram, and I wrote to the Foreign Secretary (Alfred Lyall), pointing out my views upon the subject.
Seeing how much could be done with these wild people by personal influence, and how ready they were to submit to my decisions when disputes arose amongst them—decisions at times literally given from the saddle—I was very adverse to their being handed over to some official who, from his training, would not be able to understand dealing out the rough-and-ready justice which alone was suited to these lawless beings, and who could not imagine any question being properly settled without its having undergone the tedious process of passing through the law courts. Such a rule would, I knew, disgust a people accustomed to decide their quarrels at the point of the sword—a people to whom law and order had been hitherto unknown, and must be distasteful, until they had had time to realize their beneficial effects. Profitable employment and judicious management would in time, no doubt, turn them into peaceful subjects. Friendly intercourse had already done much towards this end, and tribes who for generations had been at feud with each other now met, when visiting our camp, on common ground, without (much I think to their own astonishment) wanting to cut each other's throats. What was further required, I conceived, was the opening up of the country by means of roads, which would facilitate intercommunication and give remunerative employment to thousands who had hitherto lived by plunder and bloodshed.
In answering my letter, the Foreign Secretary informed me that the future of Kuram would be settled when I reached Simla, whither I was to proceed so soon as I had seen the British Mission across the frontier.
Gloomy Forebodings On the 15th July Major Cavagnari, who had been selected as 'the Envoy and Plenipotentiary to His Highness the Amir of Kabul,' arrived in Kuram, accompanied by Mr. William Jenkins, C.I.E., of the Civil Service, and Lieutenant Hamilton, V.C., Surgeon-Major Kelly, 25 Cavalry and 50 Infantry of the Guides Corps. I, with some fifty officers who were anxious to do honour to the Envoy and see the country beyond Kuram, marched with Cavagnari to within five miles of the crest of the Shutargardan Pass, where we encamped, and my staff and I dined that evening with the Mission. After dinner I was asked to propose the health of Cavagnari and those with him, but somehow I did not feel equal to the task; I was so thoroughly depressed, and my mind was filled with such gloomy forebodings as to the fate of these fine fellows, that I could not utter a word. Like many others, I thought that peace had been signed too quickly, before, in fact, we had instilled that awe of us into the Afghan nation which would have been the only reliable guarantee for the safety of the Mission. Had we shown our strength by marching to Kabul in the first instance, whether opposed or not, and there dictated the terms of the treaty, there would have been some assurance for its being adhered to; as it was, I could not help feeling there was none, and that the chances were against the Mission ever coming back.
Cavagnari, however, showed no sign of sharing my forebodings; he and his companions were in the best of spirits; he spoke most hopefully of the future, and talked of a tour he hoped to make with me in the cold weather along the northern and western frontiers of Afghanistan. Other matters of intense interest to us both were discussed, and before separating for the night it was arranged that Mrs. Cavagnari should either join him in Kabul the following spring, or come and stay with my wife and me in Kuram, where I had already laid the foundations of a house near the beautifully situated village of Shalufzan.
Early next morning the Sirdar, who had been deputed by the Amir to receive the Mission, came into camp, and soon we all started for the top of the pass. We had gone about a mile, when we were joined by an escort of Afghan Cavalry, dressed something like British Dragoons, with the exception of their head-gear, which consisted of the discarded helmets of the old Bengal Horse Artillery. They were mounted on small, useful-looking horses, and were armed with smooth-bore carbines and tulwars (Native swords).
As we ascended, curiously enough, we came across a solitary magpie, which I should not have noticed had not Cavagnari pointed it out and begged me not to mention the fact of his having seen it to his wife, as she would be sure to consider it an unlucky omen.