nothing to do here: all is peace,' said the departing general to his successor, who was destined never to see India again. In the following February Macnaghten himself, writing from Jalálábád, declared the general tranquillity to be 'perfectly miraculous,' as if the Afghán winter had nothing to do with the seeming miracle. The Envoy in truth saw only what he wished to see, and was always oscillating between his professed belief in Sháh Shujá's popularity and his settled conviction that the country must be occupied by our troops for many years to come. If he could only have had a free hand aided by an unlimited purse, he might have succeeded in playing out the 'beautiful game' of British supremacy in Central Asia.
But the Court of Directors had no mind to help in realizing the costly projects of so reckless an engineer. They had seen all the savings of Bentinck's and Metcalfe's resolute thrift swallowed up in furtherance of an enterprise of which they had never approved. They saw an army of 25,000 men employed at India's cost in supporting a Government which had no means of paying its own expenses. Herát alone was taxing the Indian Treasury at the rate of nearly £200,000 a year. Our army of occupation involved an additional charge of a million and a half yearly. The subsidies to the Ghilzai and Afrídí tribes, and some part of the Sháh's civil expenses were defrayed by the Indian taxpayer. The Envoy himself kept asking for more troops and more money. If Lord Auckland would not
