the Dost
had not; Soojah was the brother, son, and grandson of men who had ruled
all Affghanistan; nay, in a tumultuary way, he had ruled all
Affghanistan himself. So far he had something to show, and the Dost had
nothing; and so far Lord Auckland was right. But he was wrong, and, we
are convinced, ruinously wrong, by most extravagantly overrating that
one advantage. The instincts of loyalty, and the _prestige_ of the royal
title, were in no land that ever was heard of so feeble as in coarse,
unimaginative Affghanistan. Money was understood: meat and drink were
understood: a jezail was understood but nothing spiritual or ancestral
had any meaning for an Affghan. Deaf and blind he was to such
impressions and perhaps of all the falsehoods which have exploded in
Europe for the last six years, the very greatest is that of the
_Edinburgh Review_, in saying that the Suddozye families were "sacred"
and inviolable to Affghans. How could such a privilege clothe the
_species_ or subdivision, when even the Dooaraunee or entire _genus_ was
submitted to with murmurs under the tyranny of accident. In what way had
they won their ascendency? By thumps, by hard knocks, by a vast
assortment of kicks, and by no means through any sanctity of blood.
Sanctity indeed!--we should be glad to see the Affghan who would not,
upon what he held a sufficient motive, have cut the throat of any shah
or shahzade, padishah, or caliph, though it had been that darling of
European childhood--Haroun Alraschid himself.

But how could royalty enjoy any privilege of consecration in a land
where it was yet but two generations old? Even those two had been
generations of tumultuous struggle. Oftener had the Shah been seen
racing for his life on a Arab of the Hedjas, than eating
"dillecrout"[1] in peace, or dealing round a card-table grand crosses
of the Dooraunee order. The very origin of Affghan royalty fathoms the
shallowness of the water on which it floated. Three coincidences of
luck had raised Ahmed to the throne. One dark night his master Kouli
Khan, for the benefit of all Asia, had his throat cut. This Kouli, or
Nadir Shah, was much more of a monster than Ahmed; but not very much
less of a usurper. Riding off with his cavalry from Persia to Candahar,
Ahmed these robbed a caravan! Upon which every body cried out to him,
"Go it!" and his lucky connexion by birth with the best of the
Dooraunee blood did the rest. A murder, a flight, and a robbery, or
pretty n