Having destroyed the defences of Jellalabad, Pollock pushed on to Peshawur. The Khybur Pass had now to be traversed again. The Afreedi Maliks offered to sell us a free passage; but Mackeson answered that Pollock would take one. The first division, under the General himself, who effectively crowned the heights as he advanced, passed through with only the loss of two or three privates. M’Caskill was not equally successful. He had not taken the same precautions, and the Khyburees came down upon the rear-guard, under their old enemy, Brigadier Wild. Favoured by the darkness of night, they rushed among our people, and threw them into confusion. Two of our officers were killed,[341] and two of our guns were abandoned. But the chief object of the Khyburees seems to have been plunder. They made no effort to carry off the guns.[342]
Altogether, the return march of the British troops was singularly peaceful and uneventful. If the same precautions to crown the heights along the line of march, as were systematically taken by Pollock, had been taken by M’Caskill and Nott, it may be doubted whether we should even have heard of the appearance of an enemy. The Afghans are famous plunderers, and they are habitually armed. When they saw their opportunity, they came down upon our baggage-laden columns, and molested us as best they could. But there was nothing like organised resistance.[343]
The fortress of Ali-Musjid was destroyed, and the army then pushed on to Peshawur. Having partaken of Avitabile’s magnificent hospitality, the victorious Generals commenced their march through the Punjab. It was an uneventful, but a melancholy one. Sickness broke out in the returning army. There had always been a scarcity of carriage-cattle, and now the number of sick made it more severely felt. But all the inconveniences of the march were from within. The Sikhs wrought us no annoyance.
Whilst such were the tidings from the returning army which reached the Governor-General in the midst of his preparations, there came from Afghanistan intelligence of a more dubious and, at the same time, a less interesting character. Lord Ellenborough had left the Afghans to suffer the punishment due to their crimes; and it little mattered to him whether one party or another were dominant at Caubul. But the news which now reached him from the Afghan capital all went to show that the Suddozye Princes were utterly destitute of power and influence; and that the new government had not the means of supporting the youthful puppet upon the throne. The Wuzeer had sought to re-establish the supremacy of the Douranees, had hedged in the new King with Douranee influences, and by his exclusiveness given general offence. The downfall of the Suddozye Prince followed rapidly upon this.[344] Akbar Khan had been biding his time about the regions of the Hindoo-Koosh. He was in no hurry to return to Caubul. It was more prudent to leave the dissensions which were certain to arise at the capital to work out their own debilitating effects upon those in power, and pave the way for his triumphant return to the capital.
And so, after a time, there came into Ferozepore tidings, forwarded from Pollock’s camp, to the effect that the Suddozye prince, Shahpoor, had been expelled from the Balla Hissar, and had fled for safety to Peshawur. The poor boy had narrowly escaped with his life. Akbar Khan had made a descent upon Caubul, and carried everything before him. The Newab Zemaun Khan, it was said, had been made Governor of Jellalabad, Shumshoodeen of Ghuznee, Sultan Jan of Candahar; and in the meanwhile Dost Mahomed was making his way through the Punjab to his old principality. “Everything,” it was added, with bitter significance, “is reverting to the old state of things—as it was before we entered the country.”
And now the heart of the Governor-General began to beat with expectation of the immediate arrival of the victorious armies. Everything was ready for their reception. The army of reserve was spread out over the great plain of Ferozepore. Triumphal arches had been erected. A temporary bridge had been thrown across the Sutlej. The elephants, no insignificant portion of the coming spectacle, had been gorgeously painted and decorated, and tricked out in their gayest trappings and caparisons; and as much of tinsel, and bamboo-work, and coloured cloth, as could give effect to the triumph, had been expended to grace the occasion. On the 17th of December, Sir Robert Sale crossed the Sutlej at the head of that gallant body of troops which had composed the garrison of Jellalabad. The Governor-General went forth to meet them. A street of two hundred and fifty elephants, more or less caparisoned, had been formed, and through this marched the heroes of Jellalabad—the 13th Light Infantry, Sale’s own regiment, at the head of the column; but although the docile animals had been instructed to make a simultaneous salaam at a given signal, and to snort out a note of welcome from their huge trunks, they resolutely refused to make an obeisance, and were obstinately silent as the Illustrious Garrison filed between the huge walls of caparisoned flesh. The morning was dull and lowering—not a gleam of sunshine lighted up the festive scene; but there were sunny hearts and bright faces; and as the horse-artillery guns boomed forth their welcome, and the band of the Lancers struck up the ever-animating “Conquering Hero” tune, and each regiment in succession, as the column passed on, saluted their long-absent comrades, the heart must have been a dull one that did not acknowledge that there is something of a bright side even to the picture of war.
On the 19th, General Pollock crossed the Sutlej; and on the 23rd, General Nott arrived, bringing with him the gates of Somnauth.[345] Then there was feasting and festivity in the gigantic tents, hung with silken flags, on which, in polyglot emblazonments, were the names of the actions that had been fought; many complimentary effusions, in the shape of after-dinner harangues;[346] and in the mornings, grand field-days, more or less, according to the “skyey influences.” The year—a most eventful one—was closed with a grand military display. The plain was covered with British and Sikh troops, and in the presence of Pertaub Singh, the heir apparent of Lahore; Dhyan Singh, the minister; the Governor-General, the Commander-in-Chief, and others of less note, some forty thousand men, with a hundred guns, were manœuvred on the great plain. On this grand tableau the curtain fell; and the year opportunely closed in gaiety and glitter—in prosperity and parade.
The Sepoy regiments having been feasted with their “favourite mehtoys” (sweetmeats), and the important event announced in a Government notification, the army of reserve was broken up;[347] but not before the Governor-General, moved by that characteristic admiration of gallantry, which earned for him in India the title of the “Friend of the Army,” had done all that lay in his power to reward the troops who had achieved such brilliant successes. The honours which he could not bestow he solicited from the Crown, on behalf of the brave men who had so fairly earned them; and the distribution of honorary distinctions which ensued gave almost universal satisfaction, It erred rather on the side of liberality; and, perhaps, there are some old soldiers, in the scantily-decorated Queen’s army, who think that during the last few years, honours have been bestowed so profusely as to lower their real value, by showing how easily they are to be earned. But it is better to err on the side of liberality than of chariness—better even that the unworthy should be decorated, than that the worthy should pine in vain for distinction.[348]