As the Russian here disappears from our story a a few words as to his subsequent career and end may not be out of place. After the departure of the English envoy he flung himself heart and soul into his business; promising men, promising money, promising everything that the Ameer asked. He even proposed to visit Lahore and use his good offices with Runjeet Singh, but that plea failed, owing chiefly to the address of Mackeson, our agent at Lahore. For a time the Russian was all-powerful throughout Afghanistan, but after the repulse of the Persians from Herat and the entry of the English into Cabul his star paled. He proceeded to Teheran to give a full report of his doings to the Russian Minister there, and by him was ordered to proceed direct to St. Petersburg. Arrived there, flattered with hope, for he felt he had done all man could do, he reported himself to Count Nesselrode. The minister refused to see him. "I know no Captain Vickovitch," was the answer, "except an adventurer of that name who is reported to have been lately engaged in some unauthorised intrigues at Cabul and Candahar." Vickovitch understood the answer thoroughly. He knew that severe remonstrance had been sent from London to St. Petersburg; he knew his own Government only too well. He went home, burnt his papers, wrote a few lines of reproach, and blew his brains out.
To return to Cabul. Notwithstanding the Russian promises, and the exultation of his brothers at Candahar, the Ameer felt that he had acted unwisely. Very soon he saw that Russia could do little more than promise, and that England had made up her mind to perform. Despite Russian money and Russian men, the Shah could not force his way into Herat while Eldred Pottinger stood behind the crumbling walls, and a vast army was assembling on the banks of the Indus to drive Dost Mahomed and the whole Barukzye clan from power.
To keep friends with the Afghan ruler and to preserve the independence of his Empire was the obvious policy of the British Government. But the authorities at Simlah, Lord Auckland, Mr. Macnaghten, Mr. Henry Torrens and Mr. John Colvin, had determined that that ruler should be, not the Barukzye Dost Mahomed, a man of proved energy and ability, who had shown himself anxious to cultivate the friendship of England, and who possessed the confidence and the favour of his subjects, but the Suddozye Shah Soojah, who, though born of the legitimate line, was no less a usurper than Dost Mahomed himself, who was regarded by the majority of his countrymen with indifference and contempt, and who more than once had proved alike his inability to administer and to maintain dominion. By what process of reasoning the Viceroy arrived at this remarkable conclusion has never been made perfectly clear, but though he alone, notwithstanding Sir John Hobhouse's generous declaration from the Board of Control, will be, rightly or wrongly, held by posterity responsible for the disastrous events which followed, it is at least to his credit that he left no stone unturned to arrive at the opinions of all competent advisers before deciding on his own. Prominent among these was Mr. McNeill, then our envoy at the Court of Teheran, a man of keen powers of observation and undoubted ability, who may be said to share with Pottinger the glory of the Persian repulse from Herat. His plan, as he impressed more than once on Burnes, was to consolidate the Afghan Empire under Dost Mahomed. Placing no reliance on the sincerity of the Candahar chiefs, he yet entertained a high opinion of the Ameer himself, whom he would have been well pleased to see established in Herat and Candahar as well as in Cabul. McNeill's correspondence, however, had to pass through the hands of Captain, afterwards Sir Claudius, Wade, himself also well versed in the politics of Central Asia, and at that time holding the responsible post of Governor-General's Agent on the North-Western Frontier. Wade forwarded a copy of McNeill's letter to the Governor, and forwarded with it one from himself in which he strongly deprecated the policy of consolidation. To him it seemed better that the Afghan Empire should remain, as it then was, sub-divided into practically independent states, each of whom, as he conceived, would be more likely in their own interests to court our friendship and to meet our views, than if brought under the yoke of one ruler, to whom they could never be expected to yield a passive obedience. "Supposing," he continued, "we were to aid Dost Mahomed to overthrow in the first place his brother at Candahar, and then his Suddozye rival at Herat, what would be the consequence? As the system of which it is intended to be a part would go to gratify the longing wish of Mahomed Shah for the annexation of Herat to his dominions, the first results would be that the Shah-Zadah Kamran would apply to Persia, and offer, on the condition of her assistance to save him from the fate which impended over his head, to submit to all the demands of that General, which Kamran has hitherto so resolutely and successfully resisted, and between his fears and the attempts of Dost Mahomed to take it, Herat, which is regarded by everyone who has studied its situation as the key to Afghanistan, would inevitably fall prostrate before the arms of Persia, by the effect of the very measures which we had designed for its security from Persian thraldom." That it was our interest to maintain the independence of Herat was obvious, so long as Herat was able to remain in the position it was then assuming, that of a barrier against Russo-Persian invasion. Prince Kamran was, in fact, then playing our game as well as we could have played it ourselves. But the question was, how long would Herat be able to retain its independence? The fall of Herat meant the fall of Candahar, and the absorption of all Southern and Western Afghanistan into a Persian province, and a Persian province was then but another name for a Russian province. Could it have been possible, and that McNeill thought it possible was a strong argument in its favour, to consolidate the various states under one ruler strong enough to retain the reins when once placed in his hands, Herat and Candahar would have been secured for ever, and there would have arisen in a united Afghanistan a perpetual barrier to Russian ambition. Had we come to terms with Dost Mahomed, in all human probability we should not have had to chastise the insolence of his son. Burnes for his part still championed the cause of the Ameer, urging that it was not yet too late to secure his friendship, that, despite all that had taken place, he still wanted only the smallest encouragement to range himself on our side, and that as whatever action was taken could not be taken save at some cost, the money could not be better spent than on Dost Mahomed. But when Burnes's opinion was asked, the Government had already decided on their policy, and as Dost Mahomed was to go, he was only asked to pronounce on the expediency of choosing Soojah as his successor. It seemed to him that McNeill's plan, of which he was a staunch advocate, would be better served by restoring Soojah to his crown than by giving it to Sultan Mahomed or any other of the chiefs, who would probably be but a tool in the hands of the Sikhs, themselves objects of bitter hatred to the Afghans. As the Government, then, were committed to one of two evils, Burnes gave his vote in favour of that which seemed to him the least, and which he, in common with the rest of the Council, believed could be accomplished with little danger and at comparatively little expense.
Lord Auckland's first idea was that the deposition of Dost Mahomed should be effected by the combined forces of Runjeet Singh and Soojah, raised and drilled under British supervision, and assisted by British gold—in Kaye's words, "England was to remain in the background, jingling the money-bag." Such were the first instructions issued to the Mission sent in May, 1838, to sound Runjeet Singh on the design, but scarcely had they been written when the thought of employing British troops seems first to have dawned in, or been introduced into Lord Auckland's mind. He would have preferred that the two Princes should undertake the work on their own account, while he contributed merely his countenance and perhaps some money, but he was very doubtful whether the Princes would see the matter in the same light. Macnaghten, the leader of the mission, was instructed therefore to suggest the first course to Runjeet Singh, and should he view that with disfavour, to hold out the possibility of some sort of "demonstration" being undertaken by British troops from some convenient point. The event proved that Lord Auckland's doubts were just. The Sikh Prince heard the proposal for restoring Soojah with pleasure, and at once gave his consent to the plan; but when Macnaghten, cautiously feeling his way, hinted that an army of Sikhs, together with such a force as Soojah could raise with British help, would be amply sufficient, the crafty old man stopped him with an emphatic refusal. That England should become a third party to the treaty already existing between him and Soojah was, in his own phrase "adding sugar to milk;" he was willing, moreover, himself to play such a part as England might deem necessary; but with the independent expedition he would have nothing to do. Macnaghten therefore at once returned to his original proposal, and after a good deal of fencing and delay on Bunjeet Singh's part, the treaty was concluded. From Soojah, of course, little difficulty was to be anticipated, but he, unlike Runjeet Singh, though willing to employ British gold and British skill in equipping and disciplining the forces he declared his ability at once to bring to his standard, was by no means anxious to see a British force in the field with him. He was doubtful what effect such an apparition in their strongholds might have upon his countrymen, nor was he at all desirous to appear as owing his throne to British bayonets. He proposed that his own force should proceed by way of the Bolan Pass on Candahar and Ghuznee, while the Sikhs, with whom should go his son Timour, should march on the capital through the Khyber and Koord-Cabul defiles. Already, he said, had he received offers of allegiance from numerous chiefs discontented with the Barukzye rule, and offended at Dost Mahomed's alliance with the Persians, prominent among whom appeared, strangely enough, the name of Abdoolah Khan, destined to become the prime mover in the insurrection which ultimately cost Soojah his life, and restored the Barukzye dynasty. "The faggots," they wrote, "are ready; it only requires the lighted torch to be applied." Soojah therefore was urgent with Macnaghten that he should be allowed to accomplish his restoration with his own troops, as he expressed himself confident of doing; a feat which would greatly tend to raise his character among his countrymen, while the fact of his being "upheld by foreign force alone could not fail to detract in a great measure from his dignity and consequence." Soojah's wishes, in fact, tallied precisely with Lord Auckland's original design, but every day brought fresh complications, with fresh confirmation of the impracticability of that design. First Soojah and Runjeet Singh alone were to be the agents; then a British force was to "demonstrate" in reserve at Shikarpoor; next a few British regiments were to be added to Soojah's levies. Finally, all these plans were dismissed, and one wholly different to any Lord Auckland had hitherto dreamed of was substituted in their stead.
Sir Henry Fane, Commander-in-chief of the British army in India, was then at Simlah, with Lord Auckland. That he had from the first disapproved of English interference with Afghan politics the following passage from his correspondence with Sir Charles Metcalfe, written in 1837, sufficiently proves. "Every advance you might make beyond the Sutlej to the westward, in my opinion, adds to your military weakness ... if you want your empire to expand, expand it over Oude or over Gwalior and the remains of the Mahratta Empire. Make yourselves complete sovereigns of all within your bounds, but let alone the far West." But as it had been decided that the work was to be done, he was vehement in his opinion that it should be done as thoroughly as possible. With a "fine old Tory" contempt of anything approaching to economy, he advised the employment of a regular British force, horse, foot, and artillery, with which there could be no possibility of a reverse, a contingency in the peculiar circumstances of the case to be guarded against with more than common care. There were, still nearer to the Viceroy's person, other and even warmer advocates of the same policy; so after some weeks of suspense and oscillation Lord Auckland yielded, and the fiat for the "Army of the Indus" went forth.
In August the regiments selected were warned for field service, and in September a General Order published the constitution of the force. It was to be divided into two columns, the Bengal column and the Bombay column. The former was to consist of a brigade of artillery under Colonel Graham; a brigade of cavalry under Colonel Arnold; and five brigades of infantry under Colonels Sale and Bennie, of Her Majesty's, and Colonels Nott, Roberts, and Worseley, of the Company's service. The latter were told off into two divisions under Sir Willoughby Cotton, an officer of Her Majesty's army, who had seen service in the Burmese war, and Major-General Duncan, of the Company's army. The whole was to be under the personal command of Sir Henry Fane himself. The Bombay column was to consist of a brigade of artillery under Colonel Stevenson; a brigade of cavalry under Major-General Thackwell; a brigade of infantry under Major-General Wiltshire; the whole to be under the command of Sir John Keane, Commander-in-chief of the Bombay army. The English regiments selected were, besides the artillery, in the Bengal column, the 16th Lancers and the 3rd and 13th Regiments of the Line; in the Bombay column, the 4th Dragoons and the 2nd and 17th Regiments of the Line. Besides these troops, Soojah's own levies were being actively raised on the other side of the Indus, under the supervision of Captain Wade, who found it no easy matter to quiet the Afghan's not unfounded fears lest he should come to be no more than a puppet in the hands of the English officers, and his restoration finally effected, not by his own arms, but by the English bayonets. Though the sympathies of the majority of our army were rather with Dost Mahomed than with Soojah, and it was far from clear to them on what pretext they were to invade the former's kingdom, the prospect of active employment after so many years of repose was popular with all classes of military men, and from every quarter of India officers, leaving without a murmur the luxurious ease of well-paid staff appointments, made haste to rejoin their regiments. Scarcely less important than the selection of the military commands was the selection of the envoys who were to accompany the different columns in a political capacity. Wade of course was to march with the Sikh force destined to escort Prince Timour through the Khyber Pass to his father's capital, but it was not so easy to determine on whom should devolve the delicate duty of directing the mind of Soojah himself, and shaping the political course of his operations. Sir Henry Fane not unreasonably wished that the entire control, political as well as military, should be vested in his own hands, and proposed to take Burnes with him as his confidential adviser. But Lord Auckland had other views, and, contrary to general expectation, his choice fell on Macnaghten, under whom Burnes, after a momentary, and not unnatural, fit of disgust, agreed to serve in a subordinate capacity, believing, in common with others, that Soojah once firmly seated on the throne, Macnaghten would return, and the chief control of affairs would then devolve upon him.
On October 1st the Declaration of War was issued. If our officers were doubtful before as to the right of their cause this document certainly tended but little to solve their doubts. Hardly, moreover, had the Simlah manifesto had time to penetrate through India when news arrived of the raising of the siege of Herat. As the deliverance of Herat, and Western Afghanistan generally, from Persian rule had formed, according to the proclamation, the principal object of the expedition, it was supposed that the English army would now be disbanded, and Soojah and Runjeet Singh left to their own devices. Even those of the authorities at home who had allowed that, while a Persian force was still at the gates of Herat, Lord Auckland could not do otherwise than prepare for its defence, were unanimously of opinion that the motive for the expedition had now ceased to exist. Among such authorities conspicuously appear the names of the Duke of Wellington, Lord Wellesley, Sir Charles Metcalfe, Mountstuart Elphinstone, and others of scarce less weight and experience. Lord Auckland and his advisers were not, however, of this number. The army was to be reduced in strength, it is true, since there was no longer any prospect of an encounter with Persia, or possibly with Russia, but the expedition was in no way to be abandoned. Instead of two divisions the Bengal column was to consist only of one; two brigades of infantry were to be left behind; and the cavalry and artillery were to be proportionately reduced. Nor was Sir Henry Fane inclined to retain the command of a force whose numbers were so diminished, and whose probabilities of action were so limited. The Bengal column was therefore placed in the hands of Sir Willoughby Cotton, and on its junction with the column from Bombay the chief command was to fall to Sir John Keane, who led the latter force.
All things were now ready, but before the army broke ground a grand ceremony was to take place, a ceremony which had indeed been arranged before any note of war had been sounded. On November 29th Lord Auckland and Runjeet Singh met at Ferozepore. It was a magnificent pageant. The Viceroy's camp was pitched about four miles from the river Gharra. The English army lay on the plain, a noble force, in perfect order and condition, and brought together, according to Havelock, in a manner that had never before been equalled. Escorted by the principal military and political English officers, Runjeet Singh rode up on his elephant through a splendid guard of honour, amid the thunder of artillery and the clash of innumerable bands, to the Durbar tent. Lord Auckland and Sir Henry Fane rode out to meet him, and as the two cavalcades joined such was the crush and uproar that many of the Sikh chiefs, thinking there was some design afoot on their prince, began "to blow their matches and grasp their weapons with a mingled air of distrust and ferocity." With some difficulty a passage was cleared, and the little decrepit old man, supported by the Viceroy and the Commander-in-chief, entered the tent where the costly presents prepared for him were laid out. Ordnance of British make, horses and elephants magnificently caparisoned, were all inspected and admired, and, while a royal salute thundered without, the prince bowed low before a picture of Queen Victoria, borne into his presence by Sir Willoughby Cotton. As the infirm old chief was being conducted round the tent he stumbled and fell to the ground at the very muzzle of one of the British guns. A murmur of horror arose from his Sirdars at so dire an omen, but as the Viceroy and Sir Henry Fane hastened to raise him to his feet, their hearts were comforted by the reflection that though their chief had fallen before the British guns, the highest representatives of the British Queen had raised him again to his feet.
On the following day the visit was returned amid a scene of still greater splendour and variety. According to an eye-witness "the Sikhs shone down the English." All the great Sirdars were present in their most gorgeous trappings and mounted on their finest steeds, while from a Sikh band the strains of our own national anthem rose upon the air, and from the Sikh guns pealed forth the salute ordained for royalty alone. It must be confessed, however, that Runjeet Singh's ideas of ceremony were not all of the same exalted nature. At a later period of the day, after all the due formalities were over, the Viceroy was required to be present at "an unseemly display of dancing girls, and the antics of some male buffoons." The two following days were devoted to military exercises. On the first Sir Henry Fane manœuvred the British force with elaborate skill and display; and on the second the Sikh cavalry executed some less intricate movements with the unqualified approval of their experienced critics.
With this the ceremony was at an end. Runjeet Singh returned to Lahore, and the Viceroy followed him on his first visit to the Sikh principality. The final dispositions and selections were made by the Commander-in-chief. A few weeks previously Soojah's levies, about 6000 strong, horse, foot, and artillery, under the command of Major-General Simpson, had left Loodhianah on their way to the front, and on December 10th, 1838, the British troops marched out from Ferozepore on their first stage to the Afghan capital.