Sikunder Burnes

by Craig Murray

  On 3 September 1839 the Shahzada’s force finally arrived. Willoughby Cotton and Burnes escorted Timur formally past honour guards into the Bala Hissar, where his father, Keane and Macnaghten were waiting to receive him.

  The British had a clear understanding of potential tensions during an occupation. The army was camped outside the city, and soldiers were ordered not to enter Kabul, except with a pass signed by the regimental commanding officer. These must be issued sparingly and only to ‘men on whose steadiness and sobriety dependence can be placed’.

  This went wrong. On 13 September:

  a drunken European soldier struck an Affghan in the city […] and is said to have defiled the dinner he was cooking. The Affghan […] went to seek for Sir A Burnes; not finding him at home he returned, and clasping the European round the body […] threw him down, and sitting on his body, beat out his brains with a stone.7

  This is the first of a number of instances where individual Afghans sought out Burnes to give them justice against abuse. They were usually disappointed, as his authority in the British hierarchy was limited. The atmosphere was fraught. Captain James Douglas summed up the general British view: ‘The city is beastly dirty and so are the people. They are cunning, avaricious, proud and filthy, notwithstanding the romantic descriptions of Burnes & Co.’8 Relations were not improved on 23 September when Shah Shuja reviewed in public the despised Sikh troops under Sheikh Basawan. This should have been a Muslim force but included Sikhs as Ranjit’s regiments were generally mixed. Burnes protested against Sikhs guarding the Bala Hissar itself.

  William Barr was a young Scottish lieutenant of the Bengal Horse Artillery. His observations reveal some of the fantastical nature of the court of Shuja who

  was attended by a long train of servants, habited in the costume of the days of Baber and Timour, and a more outre apparel can scarcely be conceived; some wearing a species of horn growing out of each shoulder, and others, a headpiece not very unlike a fool’s cap. His Majesty’s Executioner was one of these.9

  The British found the costumes and ceremony of the Dourani court risible and its punishments barbaric. But there was a high culture here: Shuja was a decent poet in the Persian language, as were his father and grandfather. Mehir Dil Khan, who had come to Kabul for the end of Burnes’ negotiations, led an influential revival of classical Afghan poetry.10

  Shuja’s insistence on reinforcing his superiority to the nobles clearly caused important disaffection, as another munshi from the same school class as Mohan Lal, Shahamat Ali, witnessed. By Dost Mohammed the nobles had been ‘treated […] almost on equal terms, and enjoyed much influence, while now they were made to undergo many hard ceremonies’ and stand in positions of obeisance for hours. The Qizilbash leader, Khan Shirin Khan, felt particularly insulted, while the chiefs were ‘disgusted’ when they presented grievances: ‘Shah Shuja seemed to take very little notice of what was happening, he only cared about holding his darbar, and speaking in a very haughty way to the people.’11

  The responsibility for the construction of British cantonments was first given to Henry Durand, who went, accompanied by Mohan Lal, to a position some miles outside Kabul recommended by Burnes where there were three small forts in close proximity, which Burnes thought might be joined to form a single fortified base. Durand rejected the location as providing ‘neither cover, space, water nor any other convenience for the troops’ and instead recommended strongly that the force occupy the Bala Hissar, the great old fortress looming above Kabul.

  Macnaghten turned this down. Shuja objected that foreign occupation of the great national symbol would be anathema to Afghans. Durand then suggested converting and extending outerworks of the Bala Hissar; less blatant, but would still give the British effective control of it when they wished. Work actually started on this, but Shuja objected that the troops might see the ladies of his zenana. The true problem was that the Afghan nobles and the Qizilbash, who had traditional military dominance in Kabul, did not want the British in firm control of the city – and perhaps neither did Shuja.

  Since Macnaghten was not prepared to risk this symbol of occupation itself sparking resistance, Durand came up with another suggestion. Macnaghten himself was occupying Dost’s compound of two large houses connected by a series of walled gardens at the foot of the Bala Hissar. These gardens could be built upon and a good position established incorporating other adjoining buildings. Durand proposed to start this work as Macnaghten set off for winter quarters in Jalalabad. Macnaghten objected strongly to losing his house. Responsibility for the cantonments was then passed to another Engineer, Sturt, who also argued strongly for the Bala Hissar.

  Who chose the eventual low-lying and indefensible site, with ammunition, food supplies and treasury all outside the cantonments? Sturt made the detailed plans, which were approved by both Macnaghten and Cotton, against written objection by Brigadier Roberts, commander of the Shah’s forces. It is plain that the eventual site selected was not the one recommended by Burnes. The blame must lie with Macnaghten, who vetoed all the engineers’ other plans.

  On 17 September 1839 Shuja held a durbar to award decorations to those who had returned him to the throne. A new chivalric order had been created, the Order of the Dourani Empire, very much along British lines. The fabulous gold and jewelled insignia were made by Kabul goldsmiths and modelled on those of the Hanoverian Guelphic Order. An Islamic state issued decorations in the form of the cross of the knights of St John.

  The ceremony had strong elements of farce. It took place in a courtyard of the ruined palace; workmen continued repair work throughout, ignoring Shuja. The King was seated on a cheap British camp chair, placed on a dais. Two fat eunuchs stood behind him, holding plates containing a small number of medals.

  Keane dropped to his knees before Shuja – with some difficulty because he had become rather too stout for his dress uniform. The Shah stood up, and was handed a medal and ribbon by one of the eunuchs. Shuja, with some fumbling, pinned this to Sir John’s coat. Then Keane, now a Knight Grand Cross of the Dourani Empire, struggled to his feet and made a speech ‘in which there was a great deal about ‘hurling a usurper from the throne’.12

  The army’s chief Persian interpreter, Major Potter, was a shy man. His effort to translate Keane’s long oration into Persian was hesitant and quiet. During a pause Shuja, visibly bored, interrupted. Burnes now intervened to prevent him stopping Keane’s speech, whispering ‘Digar ast’ – ‘There is more’ – so loudly it was widely heard. The Shah subsided and let Potter continue, but the next time Potter paused, again butted in.

  The Shah thought that recipients of his awards should be grateful and quiet. The British felt that their CO’s speech should be heard. Burnes therefore again hushed the Shah. Again the nervous Potter started up, and yet again the Shah interrupted him. This time Burnes gave up the struggle.

  There were no more speeches, and Macnaghten then Cotton were called forward, and given their awards. The King then announced that Burnes and Wade were also created Knights Grand Cross, but unfortunately they had run out of medals, so these would follow.

  The names were then read out of the lower orders, the Knights Commanders and the Companions of the Dourani Empire, but there were no medals for them, either. The scene erupted when those British officers who had not been given awards started to object loudly. The Army honours had been awarded on the basis of rank, and brevet or local rank had been ignored. As this excluded many of the best senior officers, they were most annoyed.

  Colonel Dennie was particularly incensed. He had been both an acting brigadier and the first man into the breach at Ghazni, and found himself offered only the Order of the Dourani Empire Third Class. Dennie declined it, drawing a rebuke from Keane, who hated him. There followed a bitter correspondence between the two, which was referred all the way to the Secretary for War in London.

  Every one of the initial recipients of the Order was British, despite the fact that a very large majority of those who had pu
t Shuja on his throne – Afghans, Sikhs and sepoys – were not British. Once the British entered Kabul, they had an urgent need for gold coin, and Major Macgregor and Mohan Lal had obtained loans from the Kabul merchants. Macgregor had recommended Lal for the Order, but this had been vetoed by Macnaghten.13 Burnes was able to secure the Order for Lal at a later date, by asking Shuja direct.

  Macnaghten now received Auckland’s instructions, written in Simla on 20 August, on the future conduct of the occupation. His request to leave Afghanistan was denied. Auckland accepted Macnaghten’s recommendation that the Shah’s contingent would be insufficient to enforce Shuja’s power, and that a British presence was needed to counter Russian moves in Central Asia. Therefore while the Bombay contingent and one Bengal division should return home, the other Bengal division should remain in Afghanistan. The British officered Shuja’s forces, now numbering about 13,000, and 3,500 Sikh troops would also remain.

  Burnes thought the Shah’s regiments incapable of the crucial role they had now to play. He wrote to Lord, now political officer at Bamian: ‘Sheets of foolscap are written in praise of the Shah’s contingent but […] I tremble every time I hear of its being deployed […] Shuja never can be left without a British army, for his own contingent will never be fit for anything.’14

  Keane, anxious to enjoy the rewards of victory, which included a peerage, was departing with the returning portion of the Bengal contingent. Realising how fragile was his apparent success and how bitterly the British were resented, he remarked presciently to an officer leaving with him: ‘I wished you to remain in Afghanistan for the good of the public service, but since circumstances have rendered that impossible, I cannot but congratulate you on quitting the country for, mark my words, it will not be long before there is here some signal catastrophe.’15

  It was 30 October before news of the taking of Ghazni and Kabul reached London. T M Waterfield of the Political Committee forwarded the despatches on to Hobhouse, adding, ‘Glorious news from India. Ghazni taken and Kabul in Shah Shuja’s possession’ before going on to detail Hobhouse’s latest experiments in speeding up the mails. The speaking notes survive for Hobhouse’s victory speech to the House of Commons. He appended his own introduction to the official text: ‘Lord Auckland arrived in Simla early in April 1838. The first intelligence which reached him was of a most alarming character. Herat about to fall, Candahar in disarray and to face next – Lieutt Burnes retiring discomfited from Caubul, Sinde whose chiefs had opened communications with Persia and Russia […]’16 Hobhouse received hundreds of votes of thanks and loyal addresses from all over the UK. Basking in triumph, he meticulously copied down the details of the senders, in thirty-six closely-written pages.17

  The Army of the Indus was rapidly broken up. On 16 September the Bombay Army under Colonel Wilshire marched out of the Kabul camp, with a mission to attack Kelat on their way back to Karachi. On 25 September Wade left for Ludhiana with the irregular forces which had accompanied Shahzada Timur, and two regiments of the Sikh contingent. Then on 15 October Keane finally left with part of the Bengal contingent on their long journey home, also taking the Peshawar route, marching where the snows were already thickening above them and their breath steamed in the frosty air.18 William Hough noted that the Khoord Kabul pass wound sunlessly for six miles between high mountain walls, and the river had to be crossed twenty-three times. There followed the Tezin pass which was ‘more difficult than the Bolan Pass’. Then the ascending three-and-a-half miles of the Jugdulluck pass, of which Hough wrote:

  The Pass winds several times almost at right-angles. The average width is about 40 or 50 yards; but there are three places where it is less than 10 feet, indeed one only 6 feet […] The almost perpendicular cliffs, on both sides, appear as if threatening the destruction of the traveller. A small party of armed men would stop the passage of any force which had entered it.19

  The Bombay contingent attacked Kelat on its way back to Karachi. Mehrab Khan died in his citadel, superb sword in hand, shot through the neck, together with all his key chiefs. Emily Eden recorded the view she learnt from Auckland and Macnaghten:

  The Khan of Khelat was by way of being our ally and assistant, and professing friendship; did himself the pleasure of cutting off the supplies of the army when it was on its way to Cabul; set his followers on to rob the camp; corresponded with Dost Mohammed etc.

  There was no time to fight with him then, and I suppose he was beginning to think himself secure, But G [Auckland] directed the Bombay army […] to settle this little Khelat trouble […] It was all done in the Ghuznee manner – the gates blown in and the fort stormed […] The Khan and his principal chiefs died sword in hand, which was rather too fine a death for such a double traitor as he had been […] They found […] a great many of our camels and much of the property that had been pillaged from the army. Also there will be a great deal of prize money. Another man has been put on the Khelat throne, so that business is finished.20

  For once Emily was wrong, but meanwhile Nawaz Khan was installed in Kelat, and promised £5,000 a year subsidy.

  Mehrab’s jewels were valued at £60,000. They were carried from Karachi in the Hannah, but it was wrecked on 17 March 1840. Colonel Pennycuik saved the jewels, but mysteriously they sold at prize auction in Bombay for just £6,000. The premises of the sales agent were robbed before they could be delivered to their new owner. The sales agent went bankrupt with the compensation.21 I like to imagine they went back to Kelat, but I am a hopeless romantic.

  Cotton assumed the military command in Kabul. The remaining forces in Afghanistan were garrisoned between Kabul, Kandahar, Jalalabad, Ghazni, Quetta and Kelat-i-Ghilzai.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Kabul in Winter

  There was a major financial cloud gathering over the British forces in Kabul. Burnes was much more alert than Macnaghten to the pecuniary impossibility of sustaining the British occupation. On first arrival at Kabul he told Josiah Harlan that the invasion had so far cost two and a half crore of Rupees, or £2.5m, and expressed exasperation at the vast train of baggage and camp followers.

  Despite this threat, there now followed a honeymoon period, where the British occupiers felt secure and the local elite appeared reconciled. The regimental chaplain of HM 13th Foot, George Robert Gleig, gave the most evocative description of that extraordinary autumn of 1839. Gleig, a Brechin cousin of Burnes’ mother, had served through the bloody Peninsular Campaign.

  The Cabul river flowed with a clear and rapid stream […] giving an air of gladness to the scenery. Inured to the climate […] our countrymen seemed to regard the intense heat […] as a trifle, and enjoyed the cool airs of early morning and the hour that followed sunset intensely […] [T]hey lived under canvas, the officers passing to and fro with a confidence which […] appeared to command a like degree of honesty among the people […] Parties rode hither and thither […] Baba Shah’s tomb.. the obelisk […] the magnificent scenery about Areksai, and as far into the mountains as it was deemed prudent to go […]

  Wherever Englishmen go, they sooner or later introduce […] a taste for manly sports. Horse-racing and cricket were both got up […]1

  The Afghans enthusiastically took part in horse-racing, but contrary to later mythology: ‘The game of cricket was not, however, so congenial […] it does not appear that they were ever tempted to lay aside their flowing robes and huge turbans and enter the field as competitors.’

  The British also took part in Afghan sports, including cock and quail fighting and, surprisingly, wrestling. Gleig was wrong that the British had introduced a taste for manly sports into Afghanistan. Horse-racing and wrestling were long-established Afghan obsessions. Gleig states that whenever a Briton wrestled an Afghan, the Briton won. That is highly improbable, especially in view of the Afghans’ greater experience. I found traditional Central Asian wrestling a terrific sight.

  The winter of 1839/40 was exceptionally severe; and initially fun, as the lakes froze over:

  Forthwi
th our young gentlemen set themselves to the fabrication of skates: the artificers soon shaped the wood-work according to models given; out of old iron, smelted, and hardened afterwards, the blades were formed; and in due time, a party of skaters […] appeared upon the lake. The Afghans stared in mute amazement while the officers were fastening on their skates, but when they rose, dashed across the ice’s surface […] and cut all manner of figures upon the ice, there was an end at once to disbelief […]

  Gleig says the Afghans chillingly exclaimed, ‘Now […] we see that you are not like the infidel Hindoos that follow you: you are men, born and bred like ourselves, where the seasons vary … We wish that you had come among us as friends, and not as enemies, for you are fine fellows one by one; though as a body we hate you.’

  That problem was faced most acutely by Burnes, once a treasured friend in Kabul, and now a leader of the enemy. But his ready wit and endearing manner still could captivate, and he regularly hosted Afghan friends.

  Mention has been made of the hospitalities which were dispensed by Afghan chiefs to British officers. The latter were not backward to return the civility. Not only the houses of such men as the envoy, the commander in chief, and Sir Alexander Burnes, were thrown open to them, but the mess of the 13th received its frequent guests, most of whom ate and drank with as much good will and indiscrimination as if there had been no prohibitory clauses in the Koran or elsewhere.

  Among other means adopted to entertain the aristocracy of Central Asia, the British officers got up a play: a theatre was constructed, scenery painted, dresses prepared, and excellent bands in attendance; and as the pieces […] were chiefly broad comedies, such as the Irish Ambassador […] great amusement was offered to the audience […] [T]hey changed the titles of the dramatis personae, so as to bring them […] to the level of the Afghan comprehension; while Burnes and the others skilled in the dialect of the country, translated the speeches as they were uttered. The Afghans […] have a keen relish of the ludicrous and the satirical; and as the interpreter never failed to bring the jokes of the actors home to them, they marked their delight by bursting into frequent peals of laughter.