CHAPTER III.

PESHAWUR.

~Entrance into the country of the Afghans.~

It required some arrangement to commence our advance into the country

of the Afghans; for they and the Seiks entertain the most deep-rooted

animosity towards each other. At Attok, a friendly letter was sent

to us by the chief of Peshawur, expressive of his good wishes. I,

therefore, addressed that personage, Sooltan Mahommed Khan, informing

him of our intentions, and soliciting his protection. I likewise sent

a letter of introduction from Runjeet to the chief of Acora; but so

inconstant is power in these countries, that that person had been

ejected during the few weeks we had been travelling from Lahore: but

the usurper opened the communication, and kindly despatched a party to

meet us. The subjects of Runjeet Sing escorted us to their frontier,

which is three miles beyond the Indus; here we met the Afghans. Neither

party would approach, and we drew up at a distance of about 300

yards from each other. The Seiks gave us their “_wagroojee futtih_,”

synonymous with our three cheers, and we advanced, and delivered

ourselves to the Mahommedans; who said, _Wus-sulam alaikoom!_ “Peace be

unto you!” We trod our way to Acora, with our new people, the Khuttuks,

a lawless race, and alighted at that village, which is nearly deserted,

from the constant inroads of the Seiks. The chief immediately waited

upon us, and expressed his dissatisfaction at our having purchased some

articles from the bazar, since it was a reflection on his hospitality.

I begged his pardon, and placed the mistake on my ignorance of the

Afghan customs, adding, that I would not forget, as I advanced, the

hospitality of the Khuttuks of Acora. The chief took his leave,

charging us, before his departure, to consider ourselves as secure as

eggs under a hen; a homely enough simile, the truth of which we had no

reason to doubt. Yet it was at this place that poor Moorcroft and his

party encountered some serious difficulties, and were obliged to fight

their way. We here received a second letter from the chief of Peshawur,

which was most satisfactory, since it contained a friendly reply

without his having received any of the letters of introduction which we

possessed. It intimated that a person was approaching to conduct us.

~Precautionary arrangements.~

We had now quitted the territories of Hindoostan, and entered on a

land where covetousness of a neighbour’s goods is the ruling passion;

we therefore marched with our baggage. Our few servants were also

divided into regular watches for the night. We had two Afghans, two

Indians, and two natives of Cashmeer. A Cashmeerian paired with an

Indian, and the trustworthy with the most lazy; while we ourselves

were to superintend the posting of the sentries. Our people laughed

heartily at this military disposition; but it was ever after enforced

in all our travels. We ourselves were now living as natives, and had

ceased to repine at the hardness of the ground and the miserable hovels

in which we sometimes halted. I had also disposed of my own valuables

in what then appeared to me a masterly manner: a letter of credit for

five thousand rupees was fastened to my left arm, in the way that the

Asiatics wear amulets. My polyglot passport was fixed to my right arm,

and a bag of ducats was tied round my waist. I also distributed a part

of my ready money to each of the servants, and so perfect was the

check that had been established over them, that we never lost a single

ducat in all our journey, and found most faithful servants in men who

might have ruined and betrayed us. We trusted them, and they rewarded

our confidence. One man, Ghoolam Hoosun, a native of Surat, followed

me throughout the whole journey, cooked our food, and never uttered a

complaint at the performance of such duties, foreign as they were to

his engagements. He is now with me in England.

~Farewell letter to Runjeet Sing.~

~Salt monopoly.~

Our conductor, on the part of Runjeet Sing left us at Acora. Choonee

Lal, for that was his name, was a quiet inoffensive Brahmin, who did

not seem at ease across the Indus. I gave him a farewell letter to his

master; and, since his Highness had written for my sentiments regarding

the salt-mines of the Punjab, and the best means of profiting by them,

I gave him a long account of salt monopolies, telling him, that it was

better to levy high duties upon salt than grain. I told him, also, in

as many words, that the salt-range was as valuable a portion of his

territory as the valley of Cashmeer; but I do not believe that his

Highness stood in need of much explanation, as the measures which we

had seen at the mines practically proved.

~Fields of battle.~

On our road to Acora, we passed a field of battle, at the small village

of Sydoo, where 8000 Seiks had defended themselves against an enraged

population of 150,000 Mahommedans. Bood Sing, their commander, threw

up a small breast-work of loose stones, and extricated himself from

his dilemma, so as to secure the praise even of his enemies. We now

saw the place, and the bleaching bones of the horses, which had fallen

on the occasion. On the next march we passed the more celebrated field

of Noushero, to which our attention had been directed by Runjeet Sing

himself. He here encountered the Afghans for the last time; but their

chief, Azeem Khan, was separated from the greater part of his army by

the river of Cabool. The Seiks defeated the divisions on the opposite

side, mainly through the personal courage of Runjeet Sing, who carried

a hillock with his guards, from which his other troops had three

times retreated. Azeem Khan, of Cabool, fled without encountering the

successful army, which had partly crossed the river to oppose him. It

is believed, that he feared the capture of his treasure, which would

have fallen into Runjeet’s power if he had advanced; but it is also

said, that he was terrified by the shouts of the Seiks on the night of

their victory. He attributed their exclamations to the fresh arrival of

troops: for they have a custom of shouting on such occasions. We have

already compared this potentate with Porus; and the similar stratagem

by which Alexander defeated that prince will also be remembered. As the

Greeks had terrified his predecessor on the Hydaspes, the Seiks now

frightened the Afghans by their shouts and pæons.

~Entrance into Peshawur.~

As we traversed the plain to Peshawar, I felt elevated and happy.

Thyme and violets perfumed the air, and the green sod and clover put

us in mind of a distant country. The violet has the name of “_gool i

pueghumbur_,” or the rose of the Prophet, par excellence, I suppose,

from its fragrance. At Peerpaee, which is a march from Peshawur, we

were joined by six horsemen, whom the chief sent to escort us. We

saddled at sunrise, though it rained heavily, and accompanied the

party to the city, sorely trying the patience of the horsemen, by

declining to halt half way, that they might give timely information of

our approach. We pushed on till near the city; when their persuasion

could be no longer resisted. “The chief sent us only to welcome you,

and has ordered his son to meet you outside the city,” said their

commander, “and we are now within a few hundred yards of his house.” We

halted, and in a few minutes the son of the chief made his appearance,

attended by an elephant and a body of horse. He was his eldest son,

a handsome boy, about twelve years old, and dressed in a blue tunic,

with a Cashmeer shawl as a turban. We dismounted on the high road and

embraced; when the youth immediately conducted us to the presence of

his father. Never were people received with more kindness: he met us

in person at the door-way, and led us inside of an apartment, studded

with mirror glass and daubed over with paint in exceedingly bad taste.

His house, his country, his property, his all, were ours; he was the

ally of the British government, and he had shown it by his kindness

to Mr. Moorcroft, which he considered as a treaty of friendship. We

were not the persons who wished to infringe its articles. Sooltan

Mahommed Khan is about thirty-five years old, of rather tall stature,

and dark complexion. He was dressed in a pelisse, lined with fur, and

ornamented over the shoulders with the down of the peacock, which had

a richer look than the furniture that surrounded him. We were glad to

withdraw and change our wet clothes, and were conducted to the seraglio

of Sooltan Mahommed Khan, which he had prepared, _I need not add,

emptied_, for our reception. This was, indeed, a kind of welcome we had

not anticipated.

~Afghan entertainment.~

An hour had not passed before we were visited by Peer Mahommed Khan,

the younger brother of the chief, a jolly and agreeable person. The

chief himself followed in the course of the evening; and a sumptuous

dinner succeeded, of which we all partook. The meat was delicious,

and so was the cookery. I need not add, that we ate with our hands;

but we soon ceased to wonder at a nobleman tearing a lamb in pieces

and selecting the choice bits, which he held out for our acceptance.

A long roll of leavened bread was spread in front of each of us as a

plate; and, since its size diminished as the meat disappeared, it did

its part well. Pilaos and stews, sweets and sours, filled the trays;

but the bonne bouche of the day was a lamb, that had never tasted aught

but milk. A bitter orange had been squeezed over it, and made it very

savoury. Four trays of sweetmeats followed, with fruit; and the repast

concluded with sherbet, mixed with snow, the sight of which delighted

us as much as our new friends. A watch of night was spent before we

broke up; and after the chief had repeated in a whisper his devotion to

our nation and anxiety for our welfare, he bade us good night. I had

almost lost the use of my legs from the irksome position of constraint

in which I had so long sat. If we had been prepared to like the manners

of this people, there was much to confirm it on this evening.

~Visitors. Ride out with the chief.~

On the following day we were introduced to the remainder of the

family. There are two brothers besides the chief, and a host of sons

and relations. The most remarkable person of the family was a son

of Futtih Khan, the Vizier of Shah Mahmood, who had been so basely

and cruelly murdered. The lad is about fourteen years of age, and the

solitary descendant of his ill-fated father. The sons of the Meer

Waeez and Mookhtar o-doula, whose parents had dethroned Shah Shooja,

were among the party, and the day passed most agreeably. The people

were sociable and well-informed, free from prejudice on points of

religion, and many of them were well versed in Asiatic history. They

were always cheerful, and frequently noisy in their good-humour. During

the conversation many of them rose up, and prayed in the room when the

stated hours arrived. As we got better acquainted in Peshawur, our

circle of acquaintance was widely extended, and visitors would drop

in at all hours, and more particularly if they found us alone. The

Afghans never sit by themselves, and always made some apology if they

found any of us solitary, though it would have been sometimes agreeable

to continue so. In the afternoon the chief invited us to accompany

him and his brothers to see the environs of Peshawur. The doctor

stayed away, but I rode with them. Of the town of Peshawur I shall say

nothing, since the graphic and accurate descriptions of Mr. Elphinstone

require no addition. Such, indeed, is the nature of the information

contained in his valuable work, that I shall always avoid the ground

on which he trod, and, in Afghanistan, confine myself to incidents

and adventures of a personal nature. I say this in my own defence. I

had accompanied the chief on a day most favourable to a stranger, the

“nouroz,” or new year (the 21st of March), which is celebrated by the

people. The greater part of the community were gathered in gardens, and

paraded about with nosegays and bunches of peach-blossom. We entered

the garden of Ali Murdan Khan, and seated ourselves on the top of the

garden-house, and looked down upon the assembled multitude. The trees

were covered with blossom, and nothing could be more beautiful than

the surrounding scene. The chief and his brothers took great pains

to point out the neighbouring hills to me, explaining by whom they

were inhabited, with every other particular which they thought might

interest. They also informed me, that the nobleman who had prepared

this garden possessed the philosopher’s stone (the “sung-i-fars”),

since there was no other way of accounting for his great riches. They

added, that he threw it into the Indus; which at least eases them of

the dilemma as to his heir.

~Chief. His character.~

We soon got accustomed to our new mode of life, and, as we made it

a rule never on any occasion to write during the day or in public,

had leisure to receive every person who came to see us. In a short

time we became acquainted with the whole society of Peshawur, and,

during the thirty days we remained there, had an uninterrupted series

of visiting and feasting. Nothing, however, more contributed to our

comfort and happiness than the kindness of our worthy host. Sooltan

Mahommed Khan was not the illiterate Afghan whom I expected to find,

but an educated well-bred gentleman, whose open and affable manner made

a lasting impression upon me. As we were sitting down to dinner, he

would frequently slip in, quite unattended, and pass the evening with

us. He would sometimes be followed by various trays of dishes, which

he had had cooked in his harem, and believed might be palatable to us.

He is a person more remarkable for his urbanity than his wisdom; but

he transacts all his own business: he is a brave soldier; his seraglio

has about thirty inmates, and he has already had a family of sixty

children. He could not tell the exact number of survivors when I asked

him!

~An Afghan manner of spending a Friday.~

On the Friday after our arrival we accompanied the chief and his family

to some flower-gardens, where we spent the greater part of the day in

conversation. The chief himself sat under one tree, and we ranged

ourselves beneath another. Iced sherbet and confections were brought

to us, and we heard much of the munificence of Mr. Elphinstone from

Moollah Nujeeb, an elderly man, who had accompanied him to Calcutta.

In the afternoon we returned to the King’s garden, which is a most

spacious one, and sat down on the ground with Sooltan Mahommed Khan

and his family, to partake of sugar-cane cut into small pieces. Four

of the chief’s sons accompanied us; and it was delightful to see the

affectionate notice which he took of his children, none of whom were

five years old. Each of them sat on horseback in front of one of his

suite, and held the reins in a masterly manner: for the Dooranees

are taught to ride from infancy. We then followed the chief to his

family burying-ground, where his two elder brothers, Atta and Yar

Mahommed Khan, who fell in battle, lie interred. The whole branches

of the family were present, and offered up their afternoon prayers in

a mosque, close to the grave. The sight was an impressive one, and

the more so, since the sons of the deceased brothers were among the

party. The day finished with a visit to a holy man named Shekh Iwuz:

and such is the usual manner of spending a Friday among the Dooranee

nobles of Peshawur. The chief’s retinue consisted of his relations

and servants: he had no guards, and, at first starting, was only

accompanied by ourselves and two horsemen. There is a simplicity and

freedom about these people greatly to be admired; and, whatever the

rule may be, I can vouch for petitioners having an ear, at least, given

to their complaints. Every one seems on an equality with the chief,

and the meanest servant addresses him without ceremony. He himself

seems quite free from every sort of pride or affectation, and is only

to be distinguished in the crowd by his dress, in which he is fond of

richness and ornament.

~Horrible spectacle.~

In one of our rides about Peshawur with the chief, we had a specimen

of justice and Mahommedan retribution. As we passed the suburbs of

the city we discovered a crowd of people, and, on a nearer approach,

saw the mangled bodies of a man and woman, the former not quite dead,

lying on a dung-hill. The crowd instantly surrounded the chief and our

party, and one person stepped forward and represented, in a trembling

attitude, to Sooltan Mahommed Khan, that he had discovered his wife in

an act of infidelity, and had put both parties to death; he held the

bloody sword in his hands, and described how he had committed the deed.

His wife was pregnant, and already the mother of three children. The

chief asked a few questions, which did not occupy him three minutes;

he then said, in a loud voice, “You have acted the part of a good

Mahommedan, and performed a justifiable act.” He then moved on, and the

crowd cried out “Bravo!” (“Afreen!”) The man was immediately set at

liberty. We stood by the chief during the investigation; and, when it

finished, he turned to me, and carefully explained the law. “Guilt,”

added he, “committed on a Friday, is sure to be discovered;” for that

happened to be the day on which it occurred. There is nothing new in

these facts; but, as an European, I felt my blood run chill as I looked

on the mangled bodies, and heard the husband justifying the murder of

her who had borne him three children: nor was the summary justice of

the chief, who happened to be passing, the least remarkable part of the

dismal scene. It seems that the exposure of the bodies on a dung-hill

is believed to expiate in some degree the sins of the culprit, by the

example it holds out to the community; they are afterwards interred in

the same spot.

~Brother of the chief.~

We were invited, shortly after our arrival at Peshawur, to pass a

day with the chief’s brother, Peer Mahommed Khan. He received us in

a garden, under a bower of fruit-trees, loaded with blossom. Carpets

were spread, and the boughs shaken before we sat down, which covered

them with the variegated leaves of the apricot and peach. The fragrance

and beauty were equally delightful. The party consisted of about fifty

persons, all of whom partook of the entertainment, which was on a

substantial and large scale. There were performers in attendance, who

chanted odes in Pooshtoo and Persian. The conversation was general, and

related chiefly to their own expeditions. The children of the chief and

his brothers were again present: they rioted among the confectionery,

and four of them had a pitched battle with the blossom of the trees,

which they threw at each other like snow. I do not remember to have

seen any place more delightful than Peshawur at this season: the

climate, garden, and landscape, delight the senses, and to all we

had been so fortunate as to add the hospitality of the people. I had

brought no presents to conciliate these men, and I therefore would

receive none at their hands; but, on the present occasion, our host

produced a small horse, of a hill breed, and insisted on my accepting

it. “Mr. Moorcroft,” said he, “accepted one of these same horses, which

availed him in his difficulties; and I cannot, therefore, receive a

refusal, since you are entering such dangerous countries.” The horse

was forcibly sent to my house. The sequel will show the strange

providence which is sometimes to be traced in the acts of man.

~Arrangements for our advance.~

But our residence at the house of the chief was not without

inconvenience, and it required some consideration to devise a plan

for our extrication with credit. The chief was at enmity with his

brother of Cabool, and wished to persuade us to pass through that

city by stealth, and without seeing him. He offered, indeed, to send

a Persian gentleman as our conductor beyond Afghanistan; and, had I

believed the arrangement practicable, I would have rejoiced: but it

was obviously difficult to pass through the city of Cabool and the

country of its chief without his knowledge; and a discovery of such an

attempt might bring down upon us the wrath of a man from whom we had

nothing to fear by openly avowing ourselves as British officers. I was

resolved, therefore, to trust the chief of Cabool as I had trusted his

brother of Peshawur, so soon as I could persuade Sooltan Mahommed Khan

that our intercourse there should never diminish the regard which we

felt for him personally! A few days afterwards, he consented to our

writing to Cabool, and notifying our approach to Nuwab, Jabbar Khan,

the brother of the governor, whom I addressed under a new seal, cut

after the manner of the country, and bearing the name of “Sikunder

Burnes.” Sooltan Mahommed Khan now confined himself to advice, and

such good offices as would conduct us in safety beyond his dominions.

He requested that we might still further change our dress, which we

did, and left it as the best sign of our poverty. The outer garment

which I wore cost me a rupee and a half, ready made, in the bazaar. We

also resolved to conceal our character as Europeans from the common

people, though we should frankly avow to every chief, and indeed every

individual with whom we might come into contact, our true character.

But our compliance with this counsel subjected us to the strongest

importunities to avoid Toorkistan, and pass by the route of Candahar,

into Persia. Nothing could save us from the _ferocious_ and man-selling

Uzbeks; the country, the people, everything was bad. They judged of the

calamities of Moorcroft and his associates, and I listened in silence.

The chief thought that he had so far worked upon us to abandon the

design, that he prepared various letters for Candahar, and a particular

introduction to his brother, who is chief of that place.

~The chief and his court.~

Shortly after our arrival in Peshawur, Sooltan Mahommed Khan

illuminated his palace, and invited us to an entertainment, given, as

he assured us, on our account. His mansion was only separated from

ours by a single wall, and he came in person to conduct us in the

afternoon. The ladies had been spending the day in these apartments,

but the “krook”[13] was given before we entered, and a solitary eunuch,

who looked more like an old woman, only now remained. In the evening

the party assembled, which did not exceed fifteen persons, the most

distinguished in Peshawur: we sat in the hall, which was brilliantly

lighted: behind it there was a large fountain in the interior of the

house, shaded by a cupola about fifty feet high, and on the sides of

it were different rooms, that overlooked the water. The reflection

from the dome, which was painted, had a pleasing effect. About eight

o’clock we sat down to dinner, which commenced with sweetmeats and

confections, that had been prepared in the harem. They were far

superior to anything seen in India; the dinner succeeded, and the time

passed very agreeably. The chief and his courtiers talked of their

wars and revolutions, and I answered their numerous queries regarding

our own country. The assembly were ever ready to draw comparisons

between anything stated, and the records of Asiatic history, referring

familiarly to Timour, Baber and Aurungzebe, and exhibiting at the same

time much general knowledge. I gave them accounts of steam-engines,

galvanic batteries, balloons, and electrifying machines, which appeared

to give universal satisfaction. If they disbelieved, they did not

express their scepticism. Many of the courtiers of course flattered the

chief as they commented on his remarks, but their style of address was

by no means cringing, and the mild affability of Sooltan Mohammed Khan

himself quite delighted me. He spoke without reserve of Runjeet Sing,

and sighed for some change that might release him from the disgrace

of having his son a hostage at Lahore. The subject of the Russians

was introduced, and a Persian in the party declared that his country

was quite independent of Russia. The chief, with much good humour,

remarked, that their independence was something like his own with the

Seiks, unable to resist, and glad to compromise.

~Visitors. Juvenile intelligence.~

Among our visitors, none came more frequently than the sons of the

chief and his brothers; and none were more welcome, for they displayed

an intelligence and address which surprised me. Nearly the whole of

them were suffering from intermittent fever, that was soon cured by a

few doses of quinine, of which we had a large supply. The knowledge

exhibited by these little fellows induced me on one occasion to note

their conversation. There were four of them present, and none had

attained his twelfth year. I interrogated them, as they sat round me,

on the good qualities of Cabool, giving to each two answers; they

were as follows: 1. the salubrity of the climate; 2. the flavour

of the fruit; 3. the beauty of the people; 4. the handsome bazaar;

5. the citadel of the Bala Hissar; 6. the justice of the ruler; 7.

the pomegranates without seed; and, 8. its incomparable “ruwash,”

or rhubarb. Four answers to its bad qualities gave the following

information: 1. Food is expensive; 2. the houses cannot be kept in

repair without constantly removing the snow from the roof; and the

floods of the river dirty the streets; and, 4. the immorality of the

fair sex, which last is a proverb, given in a couplet. It does not

appear to me that boys in Europe show such precocity, and it is no

doubt here attributable to their earlier introduction into the society

of grown up people. When a boy has arrived at his twelfth year, a

separate establishment is maintained on his account, and, long before

that time of life, he is prohibited from frequenting his mother’s

apartments but on certain occasions. Khoju Mahommed, the eldest son of

the chief of Peshawur, whom I have already mentioned, came one day

to invite me to dinner, and I expressed some surprise to hear that he

had a house of his own. What! replied the youth, would you have me

imbibe the disposition of a woman, when I am the son of a Doorannee? I

occasionally accompanied these scions to the gardens of Peshawur, and

found them good associates, as no person ever thought of disturbing us.

I remember of hearing from one of them, a tale of his father’s wars and

untimely end in battle two years before, and how he took the bloody

head of his parent in his arms, when brought from the field without its

trunk.

~Rambles in Peshawur.~

These rambles in Peshawur were not always undertaken in such company,

for I used latterly to go unattended even by a capchee or doorkeeper

of the chief, who used to accompany us on our first arrival. I visited

the Bala Hissar, in which Shah Shooja had received so gorgeously the

Cabool mission of 1809. It is now a heap of ruins, having been burned

by the Seiks in one of their expeditions to this country. I also went

to the large caravansary, where that amusing and talented traveller

Mr. Forster describes with such humour the covetous Moollah, who

wished to steal his clothes. Circumstances were strangely changed

since his days, now some fifty years ago; he considered his journey

and dangers at an end on reaching Cabool, where we looked for their

commencement. Passing a gate of the city, I observed it studded with

horse shoes, which are as superstitious emblems in this country as

in remote Scotland. A farrier had no customers: a saint to whom he

applied recommended his nailing a pair of horse shoes to a gate of the

city: he afterwards prospered, and the farriers of Peshawur have since

propitiated the same saint by the same expedient, in which they place

implicit reliance.

One of our most welcome visitors in Peshawur was a seal engraver, a

native of the city, who had travelled over the greater part of Asia

and Eastern Europe, though he had not yet attained his thirtieth

year. In early life he had conceived the strongest passion to visit

foreign countries, and with the avowed, but by no means the only,

motive of making a pilgrimage to Mecca, quitted his house without the

knowledge of his family, and proceeded by the Indus to Arabia. He had

performed the _haj_, and then visited Egypt, Syria, Constantinople,

Greece, and the islands of the Archipelago, supporting himself during

the journey by engraving the names of the faithful, which appears to

be a profitable sort of occupation. With his wealth he enjoyed the

new scenes of the Levant, and united himself to other wanderers, from

one of whom he had happily escaped a base attempt to poison. After an

absence of five or six years, he returned to his family, who had long

looked upon him as lost. His father took the earliest opportunity of

settling him in life, to check his roaming propensities, so that he now

lived quietly in Peshawur. He appeared quite delighted to visit us,

and talk of the Nile and the pyramids, Istambool and its golden horn,

the accounts of which he could get few of his countrymen to believe.

He looked back upon his peregrinations with great delight, and sighed

that his being the father of a family prevented his joining us. This

disposition to wander is a curious trait on the part of the Afghans,

for they are great lovers of their country. A Mahommedan, however,

is at home everywhere his creed is professed, for there is a sort of

fellowship in that religion, like free-masonry, which binds its members

together; among them there are no distinctions of grade or rank, which

so strongly mark the society of other sects and countries.

~Quail-fighting.~

We arrived at the season of the quails, when every one who could escape

from his other vocations was engaged in hawking, netting, or fighting

these courageous little birds. Every Tuesday morning the chief had a

meeting in his court yard, to encourage the sport. He used to send for

us to witness it; it is by no means destitute of amusement, whether

we regard the men or the birds; for chief, servant, and subject were

here on an equality, the quails being the heroes, not the men. They

are carried about in bags, and enticed to fight with each other for

grain, which is sprinkled between them. When the quail once runs he is

worthless, and immediately slain, but they seldom make a precipitate

retreat. Nothing can exceed the passion of the Afghans for this kind

of sport; almost every boy in the street may be seen with a quail in

his hand, and crowds assemble in all parts of the city to witness their

game battles.

~Hawking.~

Seeing the interest which we took in these scenes, the chief invited us

to accompany him on a hawking party, about five miles from Peshawur;

but we were unsuccessful, and killed nothing. We went in search of

water-fowl, and a party that preceded us had disturbed the ducks. We

had, however, an Afghan pic-nic, and an insight into national manners.

We sat down under a slight awning, and the servants produced eight or

ten young lambs, which had been slain on the occasion. The chief called

for a knife, cut up one of them, spitted the pieces on a ramrod drawn

from one of his attendant’s match-locks, and handed it to be roasted.

He remarked to me that meat so dressed had a better flavour than if

cooked by regular servants, and that if we were really in the field he

would hold one end of the ramrod and give the other to some one else

till the meat was ready, which would make the entertainment thoroughly

Doorannee. I liked this unaffected simplicity. There were about thirty

in the party to partake of the déjeuné and not a morsel of it was left,

so keen were our appetites, and so good our fare; but the Afghans are

enormous eaters.

~Moollah Nujeeb.~

As the time of our departure drew near, we had nothing but a continued

succession of feasting. We dined with all the chiefs and many of

their sons, with priests and Meerzas. Among the most pleasant of our

parties was one given by Moollah Nujeeb, a worthy man who had made

an enterprising journey into the Kaffir country at the instigation

of Mr. Elphinstone, and for which he enjoys and merits a pension. He

gave us good counsel, and showed much interest in our behalf; but

strongly dissuaded us from entertaining a holy person as our guide, on

which I had resolved.[14] The Uzbeks are described to be much under

the influence of their priests and Syuds, and I thought that the

company of one of them might avail us on an occasion of difficulty,

since Moorcroft had entirely trusted to one of them, who is now in

Peshawur. Moollah Nujeeb assured me, on the other hand, that such

a person could never extricate us from any difficulties, and would

publish our approach every where; and he further insinuated, that many

of the disasters which had befallen the unfortunate Moorcroft were to

be attributed to one of these worthies. Such advice from one who was

a priest himself deserved notice, and I afterwards ascertained the

justness of the Moollah’s views.

~A saint.~

It was however necessary to conciliate the holy man to whom I have

alluded, and I visited him. His name was Fuzil Huq, and he boasts

a horde of disciples towards Bokhara, nearly as numerous as the

inhabitants. My introduction to him was curious, for Monsieur Court

had desired his secretary to write to another holy man of Peshawur,

whose name he had forgotten. In his difficulties he applied to me, and

knowing the influence of Fuzil Huq, I mentioned him at random: the

letter was written; I delivered it, and the saint was gratified at its

receipt from a quarter where he had no acquaintance. He received me

with kindness, and tendered his services most freely, offering letters

of introduction to all the influential persons in Tartary. He had heard

that I was of Armenian descent, though in the English employ, nor did I

deem it necessary to open his eyes on the subject. I thanked him for

his kindness with all the meekness and humility of a poor traveller,

and he proceeded to give his advice with a considerable degree of

kindness. Your safety, he said, will depend on your laying aside the

name of European, at all events of Englishman; for the natives of

those countries believe the English to be political intriguers, and

to possess boundless wealth. Common sense and reflection suggested a

similar conduct, but the performance was more difficult. The saint

prepared his epistles, which he sent to us; they were addressed to

the king of Bokhara and the chiefs on the Oxus, five in number, who

owned him as their spiritual guide. We were described as “poor blind

travellers,” who are entitled to protection from all members of the

faithful. They abounded in extracts from the Koran, with other moral

aphorisms enlisted for the occasion on our behalf. The saint, however,

made a request that we should not produce these letters unless an

absolute necessity compelled us; but I looked upon them as very

valuable documents. I did not quit this man’s house without envying

him of the influence over such tribes, which he owes to his descent

from a respected parent, of whom he inherited a large patrimony. I had

many misgivings about him, for he is not without suspicion of having

increased Moorcroft’s troubles; and it is certain that the family

of one of his disciples was enriched by the wealth of that ill-fated

traveller. He however possesses documents which lead me to acquit him

of every thing, yet I would rather avoid than court the man, and rather

please than displease him.

~Disadvantages of giving medicines.~

Among other items of advice we were strongly recommended to desist

from giving medicines to the people, for it had already rallied round

the doctor some hundreds of patients, and would sound the tocsin of

our approach as we advanced. I had thought that the medical character

would have been our passport, and to adventurers I do not doubt its

advantage, but our only object being to pass through in safety, it

became a subject of great doubt if it should be maintained at all;

besides the continued applications of the people, which left us no time

to ourselves, many surmises were made as to the riches and treasures

we possessed, that enabled us gratuitously to distribute medicines.

It was therefore resolved to withdraw from the field by the earliest

opportunity, and a plan which I had thought from the beginning as

likely to aid us considerably in our enterprise, was at once abandoned.

The bleeding of the people would alone have furnished employment to a

medical man, for the Afghans let blood annually at the vernal equinox

till they reach their fortieth year. The people were also labouring

under a tertian fever, which increased the number of patients.

~Antiquities. Conclusions regarding the “topes.”~

The only antiquity which we discovered near Peshawur was a “tope,” or

mound, about five miles distant, on the road to Cabool, and evidently

of the same era as those of Manikyala and Belur. It is in a very

decayed state, and the remains would not suggest any idea of the

design, had we not seen those in the Punjab. It was nearly a hundred

feet high, but the stone with which it had been faced had fallen

down or been removed. We procured no coins at it, and the natives

could not give any tradition farther than it was a “tope.” We also

heard of another building similar to this in the Khyber pass about

eighteen miles distant, which we could not visit, from the unsettled

state of the country where it is situated. It is in a perfect state

of preservation, and both loftier and larger than that of Manikyala.

I also heard of eight or ten towers of a like description towards the

country of the Kaffirs in Swat and Boonere. It seems very probable that

these buildings are the cemeteries of kings, since they are all built

with a chamber in the midst of the pile. They may, however, be Boodhist

buildings.

~Preparations for departure.~

A month had now elapsed since we arrived at Peshawur, and the rapid

approach of the hot weather admonished us that we need not much longer

fear the snows of Cabool and Hindoo Koosh. The thermometer, which

had stood in mid-day at 60° on our arrival, now rose to 87°; the

mulberries had ripened, and the snow had entirely disappeared from the

hither range; yet the winter had been very severe; and during our stay

at Peshawur hail-stones fell which were fully as large as a musket

ball. All was therefore bustle for our departure; and our movements

were accelerated by the arrival of a letter from Cabool, which begged

us to advance without delay. Yet it was no easy matter to bring the

chief to pronounce our leave, which was fixed for the 19th of April,

after much procrastination.

~Maître d’hôtel of the chief.~

Among the inmates of Sooltan Mahommed Khan’s house, it would be

unpardonable to omit the mention of his “Maître d’hôtel,” Sutar Khan,

a native of Cashmeer, a stout good-humoured man, who so long regaled

us with his pillaos and other savoury dishes. During the whole of

our stay we were entertained by the chief; and this person, who was

a merry-hearted good soul, with all the polish of his countrymen,

sought to gratify us in every way. Though he did not figure in any high

capacity, yet his sister was married to the chief, and his influence

was considerable. He was a tall portly man, with large black eyes,

which I shall ever remember, for they followed with delight every

morsel of his master’s which he saw us eat. His appearance showed that

he liked the good things of this life, and his disposition made him

anxious to share them with others. Such was Sutar Khan, the Cashmeeree

butler; he pressed us for some recipes to improve the gastronomic art,

but we had no cook to tutor him.

FOOTNOTES:

[13] A Tartar custom and word in clearing the outer apartments of the

seraglio.

[14] Among other pieces of advice, he suggested that we should _eat

onions_ in all the countries we visited; as it is a popular belief that

a foreigner becomes sooner acclimated from the use of that vegetable.

CHAP. IV.

JOURNEY TO CABOOL.

~Departure from Peshawur.~

On the 19th of April we took our leave of Sooltan Mahommed Khan, and

Peshawur. Nothing could have surpassed the kindness of this nobleman,

and now that we were leaving him he consigned us to a Persian, one

of his own officers, who was sent to Cabool on our account: he then

produced a letter to his brother at Candahar, as also to several

persons in Cabool; likewise six blank sheets bearing his seal, which

he begged we would fill up to any person of his acquaintance whom we

believed could avail us. Such treatment, as may be imagined, called

for our gratitude; but it was with difficulty that I could prevail on

the chief to take a pair of pistols of small value. I gave his son a

musical box, and he regretted my doing so. As we left his house he saw

us mount, and wished us every success and prosperity; and would have

accompanied us for some distance, had we not objected. Several of the

good people about him, with whom we had become acquainted, came with us

for the first march, and among these were Gholam Kadir, and Meer Alum,

two sons of a Cazee, at Lodiana, to whose good offices we were indebted

on many occasions while at Peshawur.

~Khyberees.~

There are five different roads to Cabool; but we chose that which leads

by the river, since the pass of Khyber is unsafe from the lawless

habits of the people; and we therefore crossed the beautiful plain of

Peshawur to Muchnee. At the city we had become intimate with one of

the hill chiefs, who urged us to take the Khyber route; but no one

trusts a Khyberee, and it was not deemed prudent. Nadir Shah paid a

sum of money to secure his passage through the defile in that country,

which is about eighteen miles in length, and very strong. I should

have liked much to see these people in their native state; but our

acquaintance, though a chief, was not to be depended on. He was a tall,

bony, gaunt-looking man, like the rest of his tribe, much addicted to

spirits; and, when speaking of his country, he called it “Yaghistan,”

or the land of the rebels. I accompanied this person to an orchard

near Peshawur, where he wished us to join in a drinking party; but we

considered him and his associates savage enough without intoxication.

~Passage of the Cabool river.~

We crossed the river of Cabool above Muchnee on a raft, which was

supported on inflated skins, and but a frail and unsafe mode of

transport. The river is only 250 yards wide, but runs with such

rapidity, that we were carried more than a mile down before gaining the

opposite bank. The horses and baggage ponies swam across. Muchnee is a

straggling village, at the gorge of the valley where the Cabool river

enters the plain. Below that place it divides into three branches in

its course towards the Indus. It is usual to navigate this river on

rafts; but there are likewise a few boats, and the pilgrims proceeding

to Mecca often embark at Acora, and pass down the Indus in them to the

sea. Merchandise is never sent by this route; but it is important to

know there is a water channel of communication from near Cabool to the

ocean.

~Caravan.~

~Scene in the Cabool river.~

On the 23d we had adjusted all matters for our advance, by conciliating

the Momunds, a plundering tribe, somewhat less ferocious than their

neighbours of Khyber, through whose country we were to pass. They

demanded half a rupee of every Mahommedan, and double the sum of a

Hindoo; but much less satisfied them, though they quarrelled about

its distribution. We commenced our march, by scrambling over hills

and rocks, and were soon satisfied of the influence of our friends,

as we met some individual passengers, attended by mere children,

whose tribe was a sufficient protection for them. After a fatiguing

march over mountain passes we found ourselves on the Cabool river,

which was to be crossed a second time. We had now a full insight into

our mode of travelling, and the treatment which we were to expect. We

never moved but in a body; and when we got to the banks of the river

under a scorching sun, had no means of crossing it till our friends the

Momunds could be again appeased. We laid ourselves down in the shade

of some rocks, which had fallen from precipices that rose in grandeur

over us to the height of about 2000 feet, and before us the Cabool

river rushed with great rapidity in its course onwards. Its breadth

did not exceed 120 yards. Towards afternoon, our highlanders produced

eight or ten skins, and we commenced crossing; but it was night before

we had all passed, and we then set fire to the grass of the mountains

to illuminate our neighbourhood and ensure safety to the frail raft.

The passage of the river was tedious and difficult: in some places the

rapidity of the stream, formed into eddies, wheeled us round, and we

had the agreeable satisfaction of being told that, if we went some way

down, there was a whirlpool, and, if once enclosed in its circle, we

might revolve in hunger and giddiness for a day. This inconvenience

we all escaped, though some of the passengers were carried far down

the river, and we ourselves had various revolutions in the smaller

eddies. There was no village or people on either side of the river,

and we spread our carpets on the ground, and heartily enjoyed a cool

night after the day’s fatigue. The noise of the stream soon lulled most

of us to sleep, and towards midnight nothing was to be heard but the

voices of the mountaineers, who had perched themselves on a rock that

projected over our camp, and watched till daylight. A truly cut-throat

band they appeared, and it was amusing to observe the studied respect

which all of us paid them. Their chief, a ragged ruffian without a

turban, was mounted on a horse: his praises were sung, and presents

were given him; but we had no sooner left the country, than every one

abused those whom we had been caressing. The spirit of the party might

be discovered by one old man, who drove his horse into a wheat-field,

on the verge of the Momund country, calling out, “Eat away, my good

animal; the Momund scoundrels have ate much of my wealth in their time.”

~Mountains.~

~Rock of Aornus.~

After an exposure of about eight hours to a powerful sun, on the

following morning we reached Duka by a rocky and difficult road, and

pushed on, in the afternoon, to Huzarnow, a journey of upwards of

twenty miles. On reaching Duka, we had surmounted the chief part of

our difficulties on the road to Cabool. The view from the top of a

mountain pass, before we descended into the valley of the Cabool river,

was very magnificent. We could see the town of Julalabad, forty miles

distant, and the river winding its way in a snaky course through the

plain, and dividing it into innumerably fertile islands as it passed.

The Sufued Koh, or white mountain, reared its crest on one side, and

the towering hill of Noorgil or Kooner on the other; here the Afghans

believe the ark of Noah to have rested after the deluge, and this Mount

Ararat of Afghanistan, from its great height, is certainly worthy

of the distinction: it is covered with perpetual snow. There is an

isolated rock not far from this place, called Näogee, in Bajour, which

answers, in my mind, to Arrian’s description of the celebrated rock

of Aornus, which indubitably lay in that neighbourhood. It is said to

be inaccessible, but by one road, to be strong and lofty, and large

enough to produce grain for the garrison, having likewise an abundant

supply of water, which is literally an account of Aornus. It is also

within twenty miles of Bajour; and we are informed that the citizens of

Bazaria (supposed to be Bajour) fled to Aornus for safety in the night.

I have not seen the hill of Näogee.

~Formation of the hills.~

At Muchnee, the hills are sandstone: on the tops of the passes there

are veins of quartz. In the bed of the Cabool river the rocks are

granite; and over the village of Duka the formation is mica, which

occurs in vertical strata. A sweet aromatic smell was exhaled from the

grass and plants. One shrub looked very like broom; another resembled

the flower-de-luce, and supplies the people with mats to build their

huts as well as sandals for their feet, to which they are fixed by a

string of the same material. Our thirst and fatigue were much relieved

by a plant of the sorrel kind, which we found most grateful, and

gathered and ate as we climbed over the hills. The pasture is here

favourable to cattle, and the mutton used in Peshawur owes its flavour

to it.

~Interview with a Momund chief.~

Before leaving Duka we had a visit from the chief of the Momunds, Sadut

Khan, of Lalpoor, a handsome man of about thirty, with a good-humoured

countenance. We sat under a mulberry tree, on a cot or bed, for half an

hour; he pressed us much to cross the river, and become his guests for

a few days, when he would entertain and amuse us with his hawks, some

of which were carried by his attendants. We declined his civilities

on the excuse of our journey. I afterwards learned that this smiling

Momund had raised himself to the chiefship of his clan, by murdering

two young nephews with their mother.

~Civility of a Khyberee.~

At Huzarnow we met a Khyberee, with whom we had some acquaintance in

the Punjab, where he had served as an hirkaru, or messenger, to Runjeet

Sing. Immediately he heard of our arrival he made his appearance,

and, catching me by the feet, and then by the beard, intimated, in

the little Persian he could speak, that we were his guests, and must

occupy his house in the village; which we gladly accepted. He was a

most uncouth looking being, with a low brow and sunken eyes: he had two

sons, neither of whom he had seen for fourteen years, till within a few

days of our arrival. He had, nevertheless, twice carried expresses to

Cabool; and though he had passed his native village and home, he had

never stopped to make an enquiry. He had now returned for good to his

country.

~Incident.~

After a fatiguing march of twelve hours on the saddle, three of which

were spent in waiting for stragglers, we reached Julalabad on the

morning of the 26th. As we passed Soorkhdewar, where the caravans are

sometimes plundered, our conductor, the Persian, whether to show his

courage or the disordered state of his imaginations, fancied himself

attacked by robbers. He fired his carbine, and, by the time those

in the rear came up, had completed a long story of his own daring

bravery; how he had punished one of the robbers with the but end of

his piece, and the danger which he had undergone from his antagonist’s

ball, that had whistled past his ear! His followers applauded his

bravery, and I added my share of praise. It appeared singular that the

Persian alone should have seen the highwaymen: but the whole matter

was explained by a quiet remark from a member of the caravan; that the

gentleman wished to give proof of his courage now that we were beyond

danger.

~Pestilential wind.~

Our route from Huzarnow to Julalabad lay through a wide stony waste,

a part of which is known by the name of the “dusht,” or plain of

Buttecote, and famed for the pestilential wind or “simoom” that

prevails here in the hot season, though the mountains on both sides are

covered with perpetual snow. The natives of this country describe the

simoom as generally fatal. Travellers, who have recovered, say, that it

attacks them like a cold wind, which makes them senseless. Water poured

with great violence into the mouth sometimes recovers the patient; and

a fire kindled near him has a good effect. Sugar and the dried plums of

Bokhara are also given with advantage. Horses and animals are subject

to the simoom as well as man; and the flesh of those who fall victims

to it is said to become so soft and putrid, that the limbs separate

from each other, and the hair may be pulled out with the least force.

This pestilential wind is unknown in the highlands of Cabool, and

principally confined to the plain of Butteecote now described. It is as

malignant in its effects during night as in the day; and in summer no

one ever thinks of travelling while the sun is above the horizon. In a

party of thirty or forty individuals, one only may be attacked: nor are

those who escape sensible of any change in the atmosphere. It may be

simply the effects of heat on a certain state of the body.

We were not travelling in the season of hot and pestilential winds; but

on this march we encountered one of these storms of wind and dust which

are common in countries near the tropic. In the present instance, it

was attended with a singular phenomenon: clouds of dust approached each

other from _opposite_ sides of the compass, and, when they met, took

quite a different direction. It is, perhaps, to be accounted for by the

eddy of the wind in a low plain, about twelve or fifteen miles broad,

with lofty mountains on either side. Julalabad, we found, had been

deluged with rain, which we had entirely escaped.

~Antiquities.~

In a hill north of the Cabool river and the village of Bussoul, we

observed some extensive excavations in the rock, which are ascribed to

the days of the Kaffirs, or infidels. These caves were hewn out in

groups, the entrance to each being separated, and about the size of a

common doorway. They may have formed so many villages, since it appears

to have been common throughout Asia to dwell in such excavated places;

as we learn in the account of the Troglodites given by different

historians. I do not suppose that we can draw an inference as to the

people from the existence of this practice in different countries,

since it would occur to most uncivilised nations, that a cave in a rock

was a more safe residence, in a troubled society, than a hut on the

plain. Near Julalabad there are seven round towers; but they differ in

construction from the “topes” which I have described. They are said to

be ancient, and very large copper coins are found near them. In the

country of Lughman, between Julalabad and the mountains, the people

point out the tomb of Metur Lam, or Lamech, the father of Noah. Some

refer the place to the age of the Kaffirs; but the good Mahommedans are

satisfied to believe it the grave of a prophet, and that there are only

three others on the earth.

~Julalabad.~

~Snowy mountains.~

We halted for a couple of days at Julalabad, which is one of the

filthiest places I have seen in the East. It is a small town, with a

bazar of fifty shops, and a population of about 2000 people; but its

number increases tenfold in the cold season, as the people flock to it

from the surrounding hills. Julalabad is the residence of a chief of

the Barukzye family; who has a revenue of about seven lacs of rupees a

year. The Cabool river passes a quarter of a mile north of the town,

and is about 150 yards wide: it is not fordable. There are mountains of

snow to the north and south of Julalabad, that run parallel with one

another. The southern range is called Sufued Koh, but more frequently

Rajgul. It decreases in size as it runs eastward, and loses its snow

before reaching Duka. In the higher parts the snow never melts; which

would give an elevation of about 15,000 feet in this latitude. To the

north of Julalabad lies the famous Noorgil, before mentioned, about

thirty miles distant; and to the north-west the lofty peaks of Hindoo

Koosh begin to show themselves.

~Bala-bagh.~

~Treatment by the people.~

We left the river of Cabool, and passed up a valley to Bala-bagh, and

could now distinguish the rich gardens that lie under the snowy hills,

and produce the famous pomegranates without seed, that are exported

to India. We halted in a vineyard. The vines of this country are not

cut or pruned, but allowed to ascend the highest trees, and were

growing, at Bala-bagh, on lilyoaks, about eighty feet from the ground.

The grapes so produced are inferior to those reared on a frame-work.

It rained at Bala-bagh and our quarters were more romantic than

comfortable; which led us, at dusk, to seek for shelter in the mosque.

The people seemed too busy in the exercise of religious and worldly

matters to mind us, and as yet we had not experienced the slightest

incivility from any person in the country: though we strolled about

everywhere. They do not appear to have the smallest prejudice against

a Christian; and I had never heard from their lips the name of dog or

infidel, which figures so prominently in the works of many travellers.

“Every country has its customs,” is a proverb among them; and the

Afghan Mahommedans seem to pay a respect to Christians which they deny

to their Hindoo fellow-citizens. Us they call “people of the book;”

while they consider them benighted and without a prophet.

~Gundamuk. Cold countries.~

At Gundamuk we reached the boundary of the hot and cold countries. It

is said to snow on one side of the rivulet, and to rain on the other.

Vegetable life assumes a new form; the wheat, which was being cut at

Julalabad, was only three inches above ground at Gundamuk. The distance

does not exceed twenty-five miles. In the fields we discovered the

white daisies among the clover; and the mountains, which were but ten

miles distant, were covered with forests of pine, that commenced about

a thousand feet below the limit of the snow; we required additional

clothing in the keen air. Travellers are subject to a variety of little

troubles, which amuse or try the temper, according to the disposition

of the moment. A cat possessed itself of my dinner this evening, as

I was about to swallow it; yet I satisfied the cravings of a hungry

appetite with bread and water; which, I may add, was ate in a filthy

stable: but we were fortunate in getting such accommodation. I beg to

add my encomia on the bread of this country, which they leaven and bake

much to the palate.

~Neemla garden: field of battle.~

About three miles from Gundamuk we passed the garden of Neemla,

celebrated for the field of battle in which Shah Shooja-ool Moolk

lost his crown, in the year 1809. The garden is situated in a highly

cultivated valley surrounded by barren hills. It is a beautiful spot;

the trees have all been pruned to, or attained, the same height,

and shade beneath their bows a variety of flowers; among which the

narcissus grows most luxuriantly. The spot, though ornamented by art,

is ill chosen for a battle; and the fortune of war was here strangely

capricious. Shooja lost his throne and his vizier, sustaining a defeat

from an army ten times inferior to his own. Never dreading such a

result, he had brought his jewels and his wealth along with him; which

he was happy to relinquish for his life. Futteh Khan, the vizier of

Mahmood, who succeeded in gaining the day for his master, seated him

on one of the state elephants, which had been prepared for the king,

and took this mode to proclaim his victory. Shooja fled to the Khyber

country, and has since failed in all his attempts to regain his kingdom.

~Manner of keeping horses in Cabool.~

Nothing strikes a stranger in this country more than the manner of

keeping their horses, which differs so much from India. They never

remove the saddle during the day; which they believe gives the horse a

better rest at night. They never walk a horse up and down, but either

mount him, or make him go round in a circle till he is cool. They give

no grain, at this season, feeding them on green barley, which has not

eared. They picket eight or ten horses to two ropes, which they fix

in line parallel to one another. They always tie a knot on the tail.

They keep the hind quarters of the horse covered at all times by a very

neat felt, fringed with silk, which is held on by the crupper. They use

the Uzbek saddle, which resembles that of our own huzars, and which

I found agreeable enough, and always used. The riders tie their whip

to the wrist. The Afghans take great care of their horses, but do not

pamper them with spices, as in India, and always have them in excellent

condition.

~Jugduluk.~

We continued our march to Jugduluk, and passed the Soorkh road, or

red river, by a bridge with a variety of other small streams, which

pour the melted snow of the Sufued Koh into that rivulet. The waters

of all of them were reddish: hence the name. The country is barren

and miserable. Jugduluk is a wretched place, with a few caves for a

village. There is a proverb which describes its misery: “When the wood

of Jugduluk begins to burn, you melt gold:” for there is no wood at

hand in the bleak hills. We halted under a grove of trees, which is

memorable as the spot where Shah Zuman, one of the kings of Cabool was

blinded.

~Post-houses of the emperors.~

On our way we could distinguish that the road had once been made, and

also the remains of the post-houses, which had been constructed every

five or six miles by the Mogul emperors, to keep up a communication

between Delhi and Cabool. They may even be traced across the mountains

to Balkh; for both Humaioon and Aurungzebe, in their youth, were

governors of that country. What an opinion does this inspire of the

grandeur of the Mogul empire! We have a system of communication between

the most distant provinces as perfect as the posts of the Cæsars.

~Wandering Ghiljees.~

~Pastoral scenes.~

On our way to Cabool we met thousands of sheep tended by the wandering

Ghiljees, a tribe of Afghans; who now that the snow was off the ground,

were driving their flocks towards Hindoo Koosh, where they pass the

summer. Nothing could be more pastoral. The grown-up people followed

the sheep as they browsed on the margin of the hills, and the boys

and girls came up about a mile or two in rear, in charge of the young

lambs. An old goat or sheep encouraged them to advance, and the young

people assisted with switches of grass, and such ejaculations as they

could raise. Some of the children were so young, that they could hardly

walk; but the delight of the sport enticed them on. On the margin of

the road we passed many encampments, where they were either moving or

packing up. The Afghans have a low black, or rather, brown tent. The

women did every thing for their lazy husbands, loaded the camels and

drove them on: they are indeed swarthy dames, not very remarkable for

beauty, with all their Arcadian life. They are well clad, and shod with

broad iron nails fixed to their soles. The children were uncommonly

healthy and chubby; and it is said that these wandering people do not

marry till they reach their twentieth year.

~Ispahan.~

~Story of Futteh Khan.~

After passing the Soorkh road, we reached Ispahan, a village that marks

another of Shooja’s defeats, but before he gained the throne. A story

is told of the vizier Futteh Khan, who was afraid of being supplanted

on this field of battle by the Dooranee nobleman who aspired to the

office of vizier. This individual, whose name was Meer Alum, had, on a

former occasion, insulted Futteh Khan, and even knocked out one of his

front teeth. The injury had to all appearance been forgiven, for he had

since married a sister of the Vizier; but the alliance had only been

formed that Futteh Khan might easier accomplish his base intentions.

The night before the battle he seized upon his brother-in-law and put

him to death. A heap of stones, here called a “toda,” marks the scene

of the murder. The Vizier’s sister threw herself at her brother’s feet,

and asked why he had murdered her husband? “What!” said he, “have you

more regard for your husband, than your brother’s honour. Look at my

broken teeth; and know that the insult is now avenged. If you are in

grief at the loss of a husband, I’ll marry you to a mule driver.”

This incident is not a bad illustration of the boisterous manners and

feelings of the Afghans. A saying among them bids one fear the more,

when an apparent reconcilement has taken place by an intermarriage.

~Pass of Luta-bund.~

By midnight on the 30th we reached the pass of Luta-bund, from the top

of which the city of Cabool first becomes visible, at a distance of

twenty-five miles. The pass is about six miles long, and the road runs

over loose round stones. We lay down at a spring called Koke Chushma,

or the Partridge Fountain, and slept without shelter through a bitterly

cold night. Our conductor’s hawks died from its effects, to his great

grief. _Luta_ means a shred or patch; and this pass is so called, from

travellers leaving some shred of their clothes on the bushes in the

pass. In the winter the snow blocks up this road.

~Arrival in Cabool.~

We rose with the morning star, and prosecuted our journey to Cabool,

which we did not reach till the afternoon. The approach to this

celebrated city is any thing but imposing, nor was it till I found

myself under the shade of its fine bazar, that I believed myself in the

capital of an empire. On our road we passed the village of Bootkhak,

where Mahmood of Ghuzni, on his return from India, is said to have

interred the rich Hindoo idol which he brought from the famous Somnat.

At Cabool, we proceeded straight to the house of the Nawab Jubbar

Khan, the brother of the governor, who gave us a cordial welcome, and

sent to the bazar for a dinner, which I enjoyed. Not so my unfortunate

companion, whose health forsook him immediately after crossing the

Indus; his strength was now completely undermined. A doubt arose as to

the examination of our baggage at the Custom-house; but I judged it

more prudent to exhibit our poverty than allow the good people to form

designs against our supposed wealth. We were not, however, prepared for

the search; and my sextant and books, with the doctor’s few bottles

and paraphernalia, were laid out in state for the inspection of the

citizens. They did them no harm, but set us down without doubt as

conjurors, after a display of such unintelligible apparatus.

~Our conductor Mahommed Shureef.~

Our worthy conductor, after he had safely delivered us into the hands

of the Nawab, took his leave to enjoy his native city, which he had not

seen for eight years. Mahommed Shureef was what might be termed a good

fellow. Though but a young man, he had been a merchant, and realised a

fortune, which he now enjoyed in hunting and hawking, with “a cup of

good sack.” He was corpulent and dropsical, but might be seen every

morning with his hawks and pointer at his heels. He kept his revels

more secretly. I never saw a boy more delighted than was this person as

we entered Cabool; had it been Elysium, he could not have said more in

its praise. He had been a most companionable traveller, and added the

address of a Persian to the warmth and good feeling of an Afghan. An

incident occurred on our entering Cabool, which would have delighted

other men than him. A beggar had found out who he was, and within half

a mile of the city gate began to call down every blessing on his head,

and welcomed him by name to his home, in a strain of great adulation.

“Give the poor man some money,” said Mahommed Shureef to his servant,

with a significant nod of his head; and it would have been a difficult

matter to determine whether the merchant or the beggar seemed most

delighted. Our conductor then bid us adieu, with a recommendation that

we should trust anybody but those who volunteered their services; as he

did not give his countrymen the credit for a high standard of morality.

He exacted a promise that we should dine with him, and I thanked him

for his advice and attentions.

CHAP. V.

CABOOL.

~Arrival of Mr. Wolff.~

We had not been many hours in Cabool before we heard of the misfortunes

of Mr. Wolff, the missionary of the Jews, who was now detained at a

neighbouring village, and lost no time in despatching assistance to

him. He joined us the following day, and gave a long and singular

account of his escape from death and slavery. This gentleman, it

appears, had issued forth, like another Benjamin of Tudela, to enquire

after the Israelites, and entered Tartary as a Jew, which is the best

travelling character in a Mahommedan country. Mr. Wolff, however, is

a convert to Christianity, and he published his creed to the wreck of

the Hebrew people. He also gave himself out as being in search of the

lost tribes; yet he made but few enquiries among the Afghans of Cabool,

though they declare themselves to be their descendants. The narration

of Mr. Wolff’s adventures excited our sympathy and compassion; and,

if we could not coincide in many of his speculations regarding the

termination of the world, we made the reverend gentleman most welcome,

and found him an addition to our society in Cabool. He had been in

Bokhara, but had not ventured to preach in that centre of Islam. His

after misfortunes had originated from his denominating himself a Hajee,

which implies a Mahommedan pilgrim, and for which he had been plundered

and beaten.

~Nawab Jubbar Khan.~

We had previously heard of the amiable character of our host, Nawab

Jubbar Khan; and even found him, on personal acquaintance, to be quite

a patriarch. He heals every difference among his many and turbulent

brothers: himself the eldest of his family, he has no ambitious views,

though he once held the government of Cashmeer, and other provinces

of the Dooranee empire. His brother, the present chief of Cabool, has

requited many services by confiscating his estate; but he speaks not of

his ingratitude. He tells you that God has given him abundance for his

wants, and to reward those who serve him; that there are few pleasures

equal to being able to give to those around, and to enjoy this world

without being obliged to govern. I discovered, during my stay at

Cabool, that the Nawab assumes no false character, but expresses

himself, as he feels, with sincerity. Never was a man more modest, and

more beloved: he will permit but a single attendant to follow him; and

the people on the high and by ways stop to bless him; the politicians

assail him at home to enter into intrigues, and yet he possesses the

respect of the whole community, and has, at the present moment, a

greater moral influence than any of the Barukzye family in Afghanistan.

His manners are remarkably mild and pleasing; and from his dress one

would not imagine him to be an influential member of a warlike family.

It is delightful to be in his society, to witness his acts, and hear

his conversation. He is particularly partial to Europeans, and makes

every one of them his guest who enters Cabool. All the French officers

in the Punjab lived with him, and keep up a friendly intercourse. Such

is the patriarch of Cabool; he is now about fifty years of age; and

such the master of the house in which we were so fortunate as to dwell.

~Introduction to the chief of Cabool.~

Our first object, after arrival, was to be introduced to the chief of

Cabool, Sidar Dost Mahommed Khan. The Nawab intimated our wishes, and

we were very politely invited to dine with the governor on the evening

of the 4th of May. Dr. Gerard was unable to attend from sickness;

but Mr. Wolff and myself were conducted, in the evening, to the Bala

Hissar, or Palace of the Kings, where the governor received us most

courteously. He rose on our entrance, saluted in the Persian fashion,

and then desired us to be seated on a velvet carpet near himself. He

assured us that we were welcome to his country; and, though he had seen

few of us, he respected our nation and character. To this I replied

as civilly as I could, praising the equity of his government, and the

protection which he extended to the traveller and the merchant. When we

sat down, we found our party consist of six or eight native gentlemen,

and three sons of the chief. We occupied a small but neat apartment,

which had no other furniture than the carpet. The conversation of the

evening was varied, and embraced such a number of topics, that I find

it difficult to detail them; such was the knowledge, intelligence,

and curiosity that the chief displayed. He was anxious to know the

state of Europe, the number of kings, the terms on which they lived

with one another; and, since it appeared that their territories were

adjacent, how they existed without destroying each other. I named the

different nations, sketched out their relative power, and informed

him, that our advancement in civilisation did no more exempt us from

war and quarrels than his own country; that we viewed each other’s

acts with jealousy, and endeavoured to maintain a balance of power,

to prevent one king from overturning another. Of this, however, there

were, I added, various instances in European history; and the chief

himself had heard of Napoleon. He next requested me to inform him of

the revenues of England; how they were collected; how the laws were

enacted; and what were the productions of the soil. He perfectly

comprehended our constitution from a brief explanation; and said there

was nothing wonderful in our universal success, since the only revenue

which we drew from the people was to defray the debts and expenses of

the state. “Your wealth, then,” added he, “must come from India.” I

assured him that the revenues of that country were spent in it; that

the sole benefits derived from its possession consisted in its being

an outlet to our commerce; and that the only wealth sent to the mother

country consisted of a few hundred thousand pounds, and the fortunes

taken away by the servants of the government. I never met an Asiatic

who credited this fact before. Dost Mahommed Khan observed, that “this

satisfactorily accounts for the subjection of India. You have left much

of its wealth to the native princes; you have not had to encounter

their despair, and you are just in your courts.” He enquired into the

state of the Mahommedan principalities in India, and as to the exact

power of Runjeet Sing, for sparing whose country he gave us no credit.

He wished to know if we had any designs upon Cabool. He had heard

from some Russian merchants of the manner of recruiting the armies by

conscription in that country, and wished to know if it were general in

Europe. He had also heard of their foundling hospitals, and required an

explanation of their utility and advantage. He begged I would inform

him about China; if its people were warlike, and if their country could

be invaded from India; if its soil were productive, and its climate

salubrious; and why the inhabitants differed so much from those of

other countries. The mention of Chinese manufactures led to a notice of

those in England; he enquired about our machinery and steam engines,

and then expressed his wonder at the cheapness of our goods. He asked

about the curiosities which I had seen, and which of the cities in

Hindostan I had most admired. I replied, Delhi. He then questioned me

if I had seen the rhinoceros, and if the Indian animals differed from

those of Cabool. He had heard of our music, and was desirous of knowing

if it surpassed that of Cabool. From these matters he turned to those

which concerned myself; asked why I had left India, and the reasons

for changing my dress. I informed him that I had a great desire to see

foreign countries, and I now purposed travelling towards Europe by

Bokhara; and that I had changed my dress to prevent my being pointed

at in this land; but that I had no desire to conceal from him and the

chiefs of every country I entered, that I was an Englishman, and that

my entire adoption of the habits of the people had added to my comfort.

The chief replied in very kind terms, applauded the design, and the

propriety of changing our dress.

~Conversations of the chief with Mr. Wolff.~

Dost Mahommed Khan then turned to Mr. Wolff for an explanation of

his history; and, as he was aware of the gentleman’s vocations, he

had assembled among the party several Mahommedan doctors, who were

prepared to dispute on points of religion. Since I stood as Mr. Wolff’s

interpreter, I might proceed to make mention of the various arguments

which were adduced on either side; but I do not anticipate what the

reverend gentleman will, no doubt, give to the world. As is usual on

such subjects, the one party failed to convince the other; and, but for

the admirable tact of the chief himself, the consequence might have

been disagreeable. The Mahommedans seemed to think that they had gained

the day, and even referred it for my decision; but I excused myself

from the difficult task, on the grounds of being no moollah (priest).

As these reverend doctors, however, appeared to found their creed upon

reason, I thought the opportunity too favourable to let them escape,

if the argument I intended to use did not boast of being original.

I asked them to state their time of prayers; and, among others, they

named before sunrise, and after sunset. “Such are the hours,” said I,

“rigidly enjoined by the Koran?”--“Yes,” replied the priest; “and every

one is an infidel who neglects them.” These premises being given, I

begged the doctor to inform me how these prayers could be performed in

the Arctic circle, where the sun neither rose nor set for five or six

months in the year. The divine had not before heard the argument: he

stammered out various confused sentences; and at last asserted that

prayers were not required in those countries, where it was sufficient

to repeat the “Culuma,” or creed of the Mahommedans. I immediately

required the divine to name the chapter of the Koran on which he

founded his doctrine, since I did not remember to have seen it in the

book. He could not, for the Koran does not contain it. A sharp dispute

now arose among the Afghans; nor was the subject renewed, but changed

to more intelligible matters. Before we withdrew, the chief made a very

friendly tender to assist us in our journey, and offered us letters to

the chiefs on the Oxus, and the King of Bokhara. He also requested that

we should frequently visit him while in Cabool, as he liked to hear of

other countries, and would make us welcome. We left him at midnight,

quite charmed with our reception, and the accomplished address and

manners of Dost Mahommed Khan.

~Tomb of the Emperor Baber.~

I lost no time in making excursions near Cabool, and chose the

earliest opportunity to visit the tomb of the Emperor Baber, which

is about a mile from the city, and situated in the sweetest spot of

the neighbourhood. The good Nawab was my conductor in the pilgrimage.

I have a profound respect for the memory of Baber, which had been

increased by a late perusal of his most interesting Commentaries. He

had directed his body to be interred in this place, to him the choicest

in his wide dominions. These are his own words regarding Cabool:--“The

climate is extremely delightful, and there is no such place in the

known world.”--“Drink wine in the citadel of Cabool, and send round the

cup without stopping: for it is at once a mountain, a sea, a town, and a

desert.”[15]

The grave is marked by two erect slabs of white marble, and, as is

usual, the last words of the inscription give the date of the Emperor’s

death. The device in the present instance seems to me happy: “When in

heaven, Roozvan asked the date of his death. I told him that heaven is

the eternal abode of Baber Badshah.” He died in the year 1530. Near

the Emperor, many of his wives and children have been interred; and the

garden, which is small, has been once surrounded by a wall of marble.

A running and clear stream yet waters the fragrant flowers of this

cemetery, which is the great holiday resort of the people of Cabool. In

front of the grave, there is a small but chaste mosque of marble; and

an inscription upon it sets forth that it was built in the year 1640,

by order of the Emperor Shah Jehan, after defeating Mahommed Nuzur Khan

in Balkh, and Budukhshan, “that poor Mahommedans might here offer up

their prayers.” It is pleasing to see the tomb of so great a man as

Baber honoured by his posterity.

~Prospect from Baber’s tomb.~

There is a noble prospect from the hill which overlooks Baber’s

tomb, and a summer-house has been erected upon it by Shah Zuman,

from which it may be admired. The Nawab and myself climbed up to it,

and seated ourselves. If my reader can imagine a plain, about twenty

miles in circumference, laid out with gardens and fields in pleasing

irregularity, intersected by three rivulets, which wind through it by

a serpentine course, and wash innumerable little forts and villages,

he will have before him one of the meadows of Cabool. To the north lie

the hills of Pughman, covered half way down with snow, and separated

from the eye by a sheet of the richest verdure. On the other side,

the mountains, which are bleak and rocky, mark the hunting preserves

of the kings; and the gardens of this city, so celebrated for fruit,

lie beneath, the water being conducted to them with great ingenuity.

I do not wonder at the hearts of the people being captivated with the

landscape, and of Baber’s admiration; for, in his own words, “its

verdure and flowers render Cabool, in spring, a heaven.”

~Intercourse with the people;~

~their character.~

Our intercourse with the people was on a much better footing at Cabool

than in Peshawur, for we were no longer in the house of a chief, and

not troubled by too many visiters. The Nawab occupied one side of a

large mansion, and left the other part to us. He, however, rallied

round him many good sort of people, with whom we became acquainted;

he brought them over in person, and we passed to and fro between each

other’s apartments during the whole day. The habits which we had

adopted, now gave us many advantages in our communications with the

people. We sat along with them on the same carpet, ate with them, and

freely mingled in their society. The Afghans are a sober, simple,

steady people. They always interrogated me closely regarding Europe,

the nations of which they divide into twelve “_koollahs_,” or crowns,

literally hats. It was delightful to see the curiosity of even the

oldest men. The greatest evil of Mahommedanism consists in its keeping

those who profess it within a certain circle of civilisation. Their

manners do not appear ever to alter. They have learning, but it is of

another age, and any thing like philosophy in their history is unknown.

The language of the Afghans is Persian, but it is not the smooth and

elegant tongue of Iran. Pooshtoo is the dialect of the common people,

but some of the higher classes cannot even speak it. The Afghans are a

nation of children; in their quarrels they fight, and become friends

without any ceremony. They cannot conceal their feelings from one

another, and a person with any discrimination may at all times pierce

their designs. If they themselves are to be believed, their ruling vice

is envy, which besets even the nearest and dearest relations. No people

are more incapable of managing an intrigue. I was particularly struck

with their idleness; they seem to sit, listlessly for the whole day,

staring at each other; how they live it would be difficult to discover,

yet they dress well, and are healthy and happy. I imbibed a very

favourable impression of their national character.

~Cabool; its bazars.~

Cabool is a most bustling and populous city. Such is the noise in the

afternoon, that in the streets one cannot make an attendant hear. The

great bazar, or “Chouchut,” is an elegant arcade, nearly 600 feet long,

and about 30 broad: it is divided into four equal parts. Its roof is

painted; and over the shops are the houses of some of the citizens. The

plan is judicious; but it has been left unfinished; and the fountains

and cisterns, that formed a part of it, lie neglected. Still there are

few such bazars in the East; and one wonders at the silks, cloths, and

goods, which are arrayed under its piazzas. In the evening it presents

a very interesting sight: each shop is lighted up by a lamp suspended

in front, which gives the city an appearance of being illuminated.

The number of shops for the sale of dried fruits is remarkable, and

their arrangement tasteful. In May, one may purchase the grapes,

pears, apples, quinces, and even the melons of the by-gone season,

then ten months old. There are poulterers’ shops, at which snipes,

ducks, partridges, and plovers, with other game, may be purchased. The

shops of the shoemakers and hardware retailers are also arranged with

singular neatness. Every trade has its separate bazar, and all of them

seem busy. There are booksellers and venders of paper, much of which is

Russian, and of a blue colour. The month of May is the season of the

“falodeh,” which is a white jelly strained from wheat, and drunk with

sherbet and snow. The people are very fond of it, and the shop-keepers

in all parts of the town seem constantly at work with their customers.

A pillar of snow stands on one side of them, and a fountain plays near

it, which gives these places a cool and clean appearance. Around the

bakers’ shops crowds of people may be seen, waiting for their bread.

I observed that they baked it by plastering it to the sides of the

oven. Cabool is famed for its kabobs, or cooked meats, which are in

great request: few cook at home. “Rhuwash” was the dainty of the May

season in Cabool. It is merely blanched rhubarb, which is reared under

a careful protection from the sun, and grows up rankly under the hills

in the neighbourhood. Its flavour is delicious. “Shabash rhuwash! Bravo

rhuwash!” is the cry in the streets; and every one buys it. In the most

crowded parts of the city there are story-tellers amusing the idlers,

or dervises proclaiming the glories and deeds of the Prophets. If a

baker makes his appearance before these worthies, they demand a cake

in the name of some prophet; and, to judge by the number who follow

their occupation, it must be a profitable one. There are no wheeled

carriages in Cabool: the streets are not very narrow; they are kept

in a good state during dry weather, and are intersected by small

covered aqueducts of clean water, which is a great convenience to the

people. We passed along them without observation, and even without an

attendant. To me, the appearance of the people was more novel than the

bazars. They sauntered about, dressed in sheep-skin cloaks, and seemed

huge from the quantity of clothes they wore. All the children have

chubby red cheeks, which I at first took for an artificial colour, till

I found it to be the gay bloom of youth. The older people seem to lose

it. Cabool is a compactly built city, but its houses have no pretension

to elegance. They are constructed of sun-dried bricks and wood, and few

of them are more than two stories high. It is thickly peopled, and has

a population of about sixty thousand souls. The river of Cabool passes

through the city; and tradition says that it has three times carried

it away, or inundated it. In rain, there is not a dirtier place than

Cabool.

~Traditions of Cabool.~

~Coins.~

It is in the mouth of every one, that Cabool is a very ancient

city; they call it 6000 years old. It formed once, with Ghuzni,

the tributary cities of Bameean. Strange has been the reverse of

circumstances;--Ghuzni, under Mahmood, in the eleventh century, became

a great capital; and Cabool is now the metropolis both over it and

Bameean. It is said that Cabool was formerly named Zabool, from a

kaffir, or infidel king, who founded it; hence the name of Zaboolistan.

Some authors have stated, that the remains of the tomb of Cabool, or

Cain, the son of Adam, are pointed out in the city; but the people have

no such traditions. It is, however, a popular belief, that when the

devil was cast out of heaven, he fell in Cabool. In Cabool itself there

are not exactly traditions of Alexander, but both Herat and Lahore are

said to have been founded by slaves of that conqueror, whom they call

a prophet. Their names were Heri (the old name of Herat) and Lahore.

Candahar is said to be an older city than either of these. While at

Cabool, I made every attempt to procure coins, but without success,

excepting a Cufic coin of Bokhara, which was 843 years old. Among the

rarities brought to the Cabool mint, I heard of a coin of the shape

and size of a sparrow’s egg,--a whimsical model. Triangular and square

coins are common: the latter belong to the age of Acbar.

~Armenians.~

In the number of our visiters was an Armenian, of the name of Simon

Mugurditch, commonly called Sooliman, who gave us a sad account of

the dispersion of his tribe. There are but twenty-one persons now

remaining, from a colony of some hundreds introduced by Nadir and

Ahmed Shah from Joolfa and Meshid in Persia. By inscriptions in

their burying-ground, it would appear that some Armenian merchants

had settled in Cabool even before that period. During the Dooranee

monarchy, they held offices under the government, and were respected,

till the time of Timour Shah’s death. In the disputes about the

succession, they have gradually withdrawn their families to other

countries; and the present chief of Cabool, with the best intentions,

has put a finishing blow to the Armenian colony, by a strict

prohibition of wine and spirits. He has also forbidden dice, with every

description of incontinence, and likewise threatened to grill some of

the bakers in their ovens for light weights. After a life by no means

temperate, this chief has renounced wine, and, under the severest

penalties, commands that his subjects should be equally abstemious.

The Armenians and Jews of Cabool have, therefore, fled to other lands,

as they had no means of support but in distilling spirits and wine.

There are but three Jewish families in Cabool, the wreck of a hundred

which it could last year boast. If Dost Mohammed Khan can succeed in

suppressing drunkenness by the sacrifice of a few foreign inhabitants,

he is not to be blamed; since forty bottles of wine or ten of brandy

might be purchased from them for a single rupee. As the chief in person

shows so good an example to his people, we shall not criticise his

motives, nor comment with severity on the inconsistency of a reformed

drunkard. Cabool seems to have been always famed for its revels.

~Entertained by them.~

The Armenians clung to us as if we had been an addition to their

colony, and we breakfasted with Simon Mugurditch and his family, where

we met all the members of it. The little children came running out to

meet us, kissed our hands, and then placed their foreheads upon them.

They are a very handsome people. We saw their church--a small building,

which could never have contained a hundred people. Our host Simon

gave us a very comfortable entertainment, and laid it out on a cloth

covered with sentences of the Koran. “It was an Afghan cloth,” said he,

“and Christians are not injured by these sentences, nor eat a less

hearty meal.” The Armenians have adopted all the customs and manners

of Mahommedans, and take off both shoes and turbans on entering their

church. They are a harmless inoffensive people, but fond of money.

~Gardens of Cabool.~

Since our departure, we had been travelling in a perpetual spring. The

trees were blossoming as we left Lahore, in February; and we found

them full blown in March, at Peshawur. We had now the same joyous

state of the season in Cabool, and arrived at an opportune time to see

it. This state of the spring will give a good idea of the relative

height of the different places, and of the progress of their seasons.

Cabool is more than 6000 feet above the level of the sea. I passed

some delightful days in its beautiful gardens. One evening I visited

a very fine one, in company with the Nawab, about six miles from the

city. They are well kept and laid out; the fruit trees are planted at

regular distances; and most of the gardens rise with the acclivity of

the ground in plateaus, or shelves, over one another. The ground was

covered with the fallen blossom, which had drifted into the corners,

like so much snow. The Nawab and myself seated ourselves under a

pear-tree of Samarcand, the most celebrated kind in the country, and

admired the prospect. Great was the variety and number of fruit trees.

There were peaches, plums, apricots, pears, apples, quinces, cherries,

walnuts, mulberries, pomegranates, and vines, all growing in one

garden. There were also nightingales, blackbirds, thrushes, and doves,

to raise their notes, and chattering magpies, on almost every tree,

which were not without their attraction, as reminding me of England.

I was highly pleased with the nightingale; and, on our return home,

the Nawab sent me one in a cage, which sang throughout the night. It

is called the “Boolbool i huzar dastan,” or, the nightingale of a

thousand tales; and it really seemed to imitate the song of every bird.

The cage was surrounded by cloth; and it became so noisy a companion,

that I was obliged to send it away before I could sleep. This bird is a

native of Budukhshan. The finest garden about Cabool is that called the

King’s garden, laid out by Timour Shah, which lies north of the town,

and is about half a mile square. The road which leads to it is about

three miles long, and formed the royal race-ground. There is a spacious

octagon summer-house in the centre, with walks that run up from each

of its sides, shaded with fruit trees, having a very pretty effect.

A marble seat in front shows where the kings of Cabool sat in their

prosperity, among

----“the pears

And sunniest apples that Cabool,

In all its thousand gardens, bears.”

The people are passionately fond of sauntering about these gardens,

and may be seen flocking to them every evening. The climate of Cabool

is most genial. At mid-day the sun is hotter than in England; but the

nights and evenings are cool, and only in August do the people find it

necessary to sleep on their balconies. There is no rainy season, but

constant showers fall as in England. The snow lasts for five months in

winter. During May, the thermometer stood at 64° in the hottest time of

the day; and there was generally a wind from the north, cooled by the

snow that covers the mountains. It must usually blow from that quarter,

since all the trees of Cabool bend to the south.

~Fruits and wines of Cabool.~

Cabool is particularly celebrated for its fruit, which is exported in

great abundance to India. Its vines are so plentiful, that the grapes

are given, for three months of the year, to cattle. There are ten

different kinds of these: the best grow on frame-works; for those which

are allowed to creep on the ground are inferior. They are pruned in the

beginning of May. The wine of Cabool has a flavour not unlike Madeira;

and it cannot be doubted, that a very superior description might be

produced in this country with a little care. The people of Cabool

convert the grape into more uses than in most other countries. They use

its juice in roasting meat; and, during meals, have grape powder as a

pickle. This is procured by pounding the grapes before they get ripe,

after drying them. It looks like Cayenne pepper, and has a pleasant

acid taste. They also dry many of them as raisins, and use much

grape syrup. A pound of grapes sells for a halfpenny. I have already

mentioned the “rhuwash,” or rhubarb of Cabool: it grows spontaneously

under the snowy hills of Pughman; and Cabool has a great celebrity from

producing it. The natives believe it exceedingly wholesome, and use

it both raw, and cooked as vegetables. They tell an anecdote of some

Indian doctors, who practised for a short time at Cabool, and waited

for the fruit season, when the people would probably be unhealthy.

Seeing this rhubarb in May and June, these members of the faculty

abruptly left the country, pronouncing it a specific for the catalogue

of Cabool diseases. This, at all events, proves it to be considered a

healthy article of food. When the rhubarb is brought to market, the

stalks are about a foot long, and the leaves are just budding. They

are red; the stalk is white: when it first appears above ground, it

has a sweet taste like milk, and will not bear carriage. As it grows

older, it gets strong, stones being piled round to protect it from the

sun. The root of the plant is not used as medicine. There are no date

trees in Cabool, though they are to be found both east and west of

it--at Candahar and Peshawur. There the people are ignorant of the art

of extracting an intoxicating juice from them, as in India. Peshawur

is celebrated for its pears; Ghuzni for its plums, which are sold in

India under the name of the plum of Bokhara; Candahar for its figs, and

Cabool for its mulberries; but almost every description, particularly

stone fruits, thrive in Cabool. Fruit is more plentiful than bread, and

is considered one of the necessaries of human life. There are no less

than fourteen different ways of preserving the apricot of Cabool: it is

dried with and without the stone; the kernel is sometimes left, or an

almond is substituted in its stead; it is also formed into cakes, and

folded up like paper. It is the most delicious of the dried fruits.

~Bala Hissar, or palace prison of the princes.~

Among the public buildings in Cabool, the Bala Hissar, or citadel,

claims the first importance; but not from its strength. Cabool is

enclosed to the south and west by high rocky hills; and at the eastern

extremity of these the Bala Hissar is situated, which commands the

city. It stands on a neck of land, and may have an elevation of about

150 feet from the meadows of the surrounding country. There is another

fort under it, also called the Bala Hissar, which is occupied by the

governor and his guards. The citadel is uninhabited by the present

chief; but his brother built a palace in it called the “Koollah i

Firingee,” or the Europeans’ Hat, which is the highest building.

Dost Mahommed Khan captured the Bala Hissar, by blowing up one of its

towers: it is a poor, irregular, and dilapidated fortification, and

could never withstand an escalade. The upper fort is small, but that

below contains about five thousand people. The King’s palace stands

in it. The Bala Hissar was built by different princes of the house of

Timour, from Baber downwards. Aurungzebe prepared extensive vaults

under it, to deposit his treasure; and which may yet be seen. While it

formed the palace of the kings of Cabool, it was also the prison of the

younger branches of the royal family, in which they were confined for

life. They tell a story, that, when set free from their prison, after

murdering their keeper, they looked with astonishment at seeing water

flow--so close had been the confinement in their walled abode. It is

difficult to say, whether these unfortunate men were not happier than

in their present state, which is that of abject poverty. Many of the

sons of Timour Shah came in absolute hunger to solicit alms from us. I

advised them to make a petition to the chief for some permanent relief,

but they said that they had no mercy to expect from the Barukzye

family, now in power, who thirsted after their blood.

~Persians of Cabool.~

Near the Bala Hissar, and separated from it and every part of the

city, the Persians, or Kuzzilbashes, as they are called, reside.

They are Toorks, and principally of the tribe of Juwansheer, who were

fixed in this country by Nadir Shah. Under the kings of Cabool they

served as body-guards, and were a powerful engine of the state. They

yet retain their language, and are attached to the present chief,

whose mother is of their tribe. I had an opportunity of seeing these

people to advantage; being invited to a party given by our conductor

from Peshawur, the jolly Naib Mahommed Shureef. I met the whole of the

principal men, and their chief, Sheereen Khan. The entertainment was

more Persian than Afghan. Among them, I could discover a new people,

and new mode of thinking; for they have retained some of the wit that

marks their countrymen. As the evening was drawing to a close, the

chief called on a person to display his powers, not in a tale, but in

depicting the peculiarities of the neighbouring nations. He began with

the Afghans; and, after an amusing enough exordium, which excepted the

Dooranees or chiefs, (who, he said, were not like other Afghans,) he

described the entry of some twenty or thirty nations into paradise.

When the turn of the Afghans came, he went on blasphemously to relate,

that their horrid language was unintelligible, and that, as the prophet

had pronounced it to be the dialect of hell, there was no place in

heaven for those who spoke it. The fellow had humour, and brought in

some Afghan phrases, much to the amusement of the company. He then

attacked the Uzbeks for their peculiar way of making tea, and their

uncouth manners. He now levelled his batteries against the whining,

cheating and deceitful Cashmeerian; and these people must be belied

indeed, if they be not masters in vice.[16] All parties, however, admit

their talents and ingenuity, which is a considerable counterbalance.

The natives of Herat, and their peculiar dialect, exercised the

powers of this loquacious Meerza: he imitated the roguery of their

custom-house; and allowed himself, as the officer on duty, to be bribed

out of his due, by accepting some wine, which he pretended was not for

himself.

~Difference between Asiatic and European manners.~

The difference between Eastern manners, and those of Europe, is

nowhere more discernible than in their manner of saying good things.

An European enjoys an anecdote; but he would be very much surprised to

be called on in a company to tell one for its amusement. In the East,

there are professional anecdote makers; in the West, we are content

with a bon-mot as it flows in the course of conversation. Both may

be traced to the government: for, in the East, though there is much

familiarity, there is little social intercourse; and, in Europe, good

manners teach us to consider every one at the same board on an equality.

~Eed, or festival.~

~Tomb of Timour Shah.~

During our stay, the “Eed” occurred, which is the festival kept in

commemoration of Abraham’s intention to sacrifice his son Isaac. It

was observed with every demonstration of respect: the shops were shut;

and the chief proceeded to prayer at an appointed place, with a great

concourse of persons. In the afternoon, every one was to be seen

flocking to the gardens; nor could I resist the impulse, and followed

the crowd. In Cabool, you no sooner leave the bazar, than you find

yourself on the banks of the river, which are beautifully shaded by

trees of mulberry, willow, and poplar. Almost all the roads round the

city lead by the verge of aqueducts or running water. They are crossed

by bridges; and the large river has three or four of these edifices;

but they cannot boast of architectural beauty. The finest gardens of

Cabool lie north of the city; and they, again, are far surpassed by

those beyond, in the district of Istalif, under the first snow-clad

mountains, towards Hindoo Koosh. Their site is to be seen from Cabool.

I was conducted to the tomb of Timour Shah, which stands outside the

city, and is a brick building of an octagon shape, rising to the

height of 50 feet. The interior of it is about 40 feet square, and

the architecture resembles that of Delhi. The building is unfinished.

A lamp was formerly lighted on this sepulchre; but the sense of this

king’s favours, like that of many others, has faded. Timour Shah made

Cabool his capital, and here is his tomb. His father is interred at

Candahar, which is the native country of the Dooranees.

~Alchymy and minerals.~

~Freemasonry.~

I moved about every where during the day, and had the pleasure of

many sociable evenings with our host the Nawab, whom I found, like

many of his countrymen, in search of the philosopher’s stone. Such an

opportunity as our arrival seemed to promise him a rich harvest. I

soon undeceived him, and laughed at the crucibles and recipes, which

he produced. I explained to him, that chemistry had succeeded alchymy,

as astronomy had followed astrology; but as I had to detail the exact

nature of these sciences, my asseverations of being no alchymist had

little effect. He therefore applied himself to the doctor, from whom

he requested recipes for the manufacture of calomel and quinine

plasters and liniments; which it was no easy matter to furnish. He

could not credit that the arts of giving and manufacturing medicines

were distinct; and set us down as very ignorant or very obstinate. He

would not receive the prepared medicines, as they would be of no use

to him after we had left. We found this feeling generally prevalent;

and woe be to the doctor in these parts who gives medicines which he

cannot make. We kept the Nawab in good humour, though we would not

believe that he could convert iron into silver. We heard from him the

position of many metallic veins in the country. He produced among other

curiosities some asbestos, here called cotton-stone (sung i poomba),

found near Julalabad. The good man declared that he must have some of

our knowledge in return for what he told so freely. I informed him that

I belonged to a sect called Freemasons, and gave some account of the

craft, into which he requested to be admitted without delay. But, as

the number of brethren must be equal to that of the Pleiades, we put it

off to a convenient opportunity. He confidently believed that he had at

last got scent of magic in its purest dye; and had it been in my power,

I would have willingly initiated him. He made me promise to send some

flower-seeds of our country, which he wished to see in Cabool; and I

faithfully forwarded them. I cut the plates out of Mr. Elphinstone’s

History of Cabool, and presented them to the Nawab at a large party;

and not only is the costume exact, but in some of the figures, to their

great delight, they discovered likenesses. Pictures are forbidden

among the Soonee Mahommedans; but in the present instance they proved

very acceptable. Among the Nawab’s friends we met a man 114 years old,

who had served with Nadir Shah. He had been upwards of eighty years

in Cabool, and seen the Dooranee dynasty founded and pass away. This

venerable person walked up stairs to our rooms.

~Afghans. Jewish origin.~

~Their traditions.~

From the crowd of people we constantly met at the house of our host,

I was resolved on gathering some information on the much disputed

point of the Afghans being Jews. They brought me all their histories,

but I had no time to examine them, and wished for oral information.

The Afghans call themselves, “Bin i Israeel,” or children of Israel;

but consider the term of “Yahoodee,” or Jew, to be one of reproach.

They say that Nebuchadnezzar, after the overthrow of the temple of

Jerusalem, transplanted them to the town of Ghore, near Bameean; and

that they are called Afghans, from their chief Afghana, who was a

son of the uncle of Asof (the vizier of Solomon), who was the son

of Berkia. The genealogy of this person is traced from a collateral

branch, on account of the obscurity of his own parent, which is by no

means uncommon in the East. They say that they lived as Jews, till

Khaleed (called by the title of Caliph) summoned them, in the first

century of Mahommedanism, to assist in the wars with the Infidels. For

their services on that occasion, Kyse, their leader, got the title of

Abdoolrusheed, which means the Son of the mighty. He was also told to

consider himself the “butan” (an Arabic word), or mast of his tribe,

on which its prosperity would hinge, and by which the vessel of their

state was to be governed. Since that time, the Afghans are sometimes

called _Putan_, by which name they are familiarly known in India. I

never before heard this explanation of the term. After the campaign

with Khaleed, the Afghans returned to their native country, and were

governed by a king of the line of Kyanee, or Cyrus, till the eleventh

century, when they were subdued by Mahmood of Ghuzni. A race of kings

sprung from Ghore, subverted the house of Ghuzni, and conquered India.

As is well known, this dynasty was divided, at the death of its

founder, into the divisions east and west of the Indus; a state of

things which lasted till the posterity of Timourlane reduced both to a

new yoke.

~Opinions regarding these traditions.~

Having precisely stated the traditions and history of the Afghans, I

can see no good reason for discrediting them, though there be some

anachronisms, and the dates do not exactly correspond with those of

the Old Testament. In the histories of Greece and Rome we find similar

corruptions, as well as in the later works of the Arab and Mahommedan

writers. The Afghans look like Jews; they say they are descended from

Jews; and the younger brother marries the widow of the elder, according

to the law of Moses. The Afghans entertain strong prejudices against

the Jewish nation; which would at least show that they had no desire

to claim, without a just cause, a descent from them. Since some of the

tribes of Israel came to the East, why should we not admit that the

Afghans are their descendants, converted to Mahommedanism? I am aware

that I am differing from a high authority[17]; but I trust that I have

made it appear on reasonable grounds.

~Party at the chief’s.~

~Politics.~

~The Kaffirs a singular people.~

As the chief desired, I passed another evening with him; and the

doctor, being convalescent, accompanied me; Mr. Wolff had proceeded on

his journey to India. Dost Mahommed Khan pleased us as much as ever;

he kept us till long past midnight, and gave us a full insight into

the political affairs of his country, and the unfortunate differences

that exist between him and his brothers. He expressed hopes of being

able to restore the monarchy, evinced a cordial hatred towards Runjeet

Sing, and seemed anxious to know if the British Government would

accept his services as an auxiliary to root him out; but I replied,

that he was our friend. He then promised me the command of his army,

if I would remain with him; an offer which he afterwards repeated.

“Twelve thousand horse and twenty guns shall be at your disposal.”

When he found that I could not accept the honour, he requested me to

send some friend to be his generalissimo. On this occasion, we had

some highly interesting conversation regarding the Kaffirs, who live

in the hills north of Peshawur and Cabool, and are supposed to descend

from Alexander. The chief, on the former occasion, had produced a

young Kaffir boy, one of his slaves, about ten years old, who had been

captured for two years. His complexion, hair, and features were quite

European; his eyes were of a bluish colour. We made him repeat various

words of his language, some of which were Indian. The Kaffirs live

in a most barbarous state, eating bears and monkeys. There is a tribe

of them called “Neemchu Moossulman,” or half Mahommedans, who occupy

the frontier villages between them and the Afghans, and transact the

little trade that exists among them. It is curious to find a people so

entirely distinct from the other inhabitants, and unfortunately every

thing that regards them rests in obscurity. I have hereafter stated

the particulars which I collected regarding the Kaffirs, whom I take

to be the aborigines of Afghanistan, and in no wise connected with the

reputed descendants of Alexander the Great, as has been stated by some

authors.

~Preparations for our journey.~

We had passed nearly three weeks in Cabool; which appeared as a few

days. It was now necessary to prepare for our journey, which seemed no

easy matter. No caravan was yet ready; and it was even doubtful if the

roads were passable, as snow had fallen during the month. It occurred

to me that our best plan would be to hire a Cafila-bashee, or one of

the conductors of the great caravans, as one of our own servants;

and we might thus proceed at once, without the delay attendant

upon a caravan, and, I hoped, with equal safety. The Nawab did not

altogether relish the plan, nor our precipitate departure. He would

have willingly kept us for months. We, however, entertained one Hyat,

a sturdy but hale old man, who had grown grey in crossing the Hindoo

Koosh. When the Nawab found our determination to depart, he urged his

relative, the Ameen ool Moolk, a nobleman of the late Shah Mahmood,

who carries on commercial transactions with Bokhara and Russia, to

despatch one of his trusty persons with us. It was therefore determined

that a brother of his Nazir, or steward, named Doulut, a respectable

Afghan, also styled the Nazir, should proceed with us. He had business

in Bokhara, and was even going on to Russia: our movements expedited

his departure. Every thing looked well, and we were furnished by the

Nawab’s kindness with letters to the Afghans in Bokhara. The most

influential of these was Budr-oo-deen. His agent in Cabool, who brought

me the letters, was resolved on being rewarded for doing so by an

enjoyment of our society. His name was Khodadad, and he was a Moollah.

He stopped and dined with us; but declared, that whatever might be our

wisdom as a nation, we had no correct ideas of good living. He did

not like our English fare, which was cooked with water, he said, and

only fit for an invalid. Khodadad was a very intelligent man, who had

travelled in India and Tartary, and was well read in Asiatic lore. He

had also studied Euclid, whom his countryman, he said, nicknamed “Uql

doozd,” or wisdom-stealer, from the confusion which he had produced

in men’s heads. He was not fond of mathematics, and wished to know

our motive for studying them: he had not heard that it improved the

reasoning faculties; and only considered the persons versed in Euclid,

as deeper read than others. The chief also prepared his letters; but

there is little communication between the Afghans and Uzbeks, and we

found them of no service; that for the King of Bokhara was lost or

stolen. One of Dost Mahommed Khan’s court, however, the governor of

Bameean, Hajee Kauker, furnished us with letters, which were of real

use, as will afterwards appear. This man, though serving under the

chief of Cabool, is more friendly to his brother of Peshawur, by whom

we were introduced to him. I held my intercourse with him secret, and

he tendered the services of fifty horsemen, which it was prudent to

decline.

~Shikarpooree merchants.~

Before our departure from Cabool, I made the acquaintance of many

of the Hindoo or Shikarpooree merchants. The whole trade of Central

Asia is in the hands of these people, who have houses of agency from

Astracan and Meshid to Calcutta. They are a plodding race, who take

no share in any other matters than their own, and secure protection

from the Government by lending it money. They have a peculiar cast of

countenance, with a very high nose: they dress very dirtily. Few of

them are permitted to wear turbans. They never bring their families

from their country, which is Upper Sinde, and are constantly passing to

and from it; which keeps up a national spirit among them. In Cabool,

there are eight great houses of agency belonging to these people, who

are quite separate from the other Hindoo inhabitants. Of them, there

are about three hundred families. I met one of these Shikarpooree

merchants on the Island of Kisham, in the Gulf of Persia; and were

Hindoos tolerated in that country, I feel satisfied that they would

spread all over Persia, and even Turkey.

~Money arrangements.~

~Great proofs of the civilisation by commerce.~

With such an extensive agency distributed in the parts of Asia which

we were now about to traverse, it was not, as may be supposed, a

very difficult task to adjust our money matters, and arrange for our

receiving a supply of that necessary article, even at the distance we

should shortly find ourselves from India. Our expenses were small,

and golden ducats were carefully sewed up in our belts and turbans,

and sometimes even transferred to our slippers; though, as we had to

leave them at the door of every house, I did not always approve of

such stowage. I had a letter of credit in my possession for the sum of

five thousand rupees, payable from the public treasuries of Lodiana or

Delhi; and the Cabool merchants did not hesitate to accept it. They

expressed their readiness either to discharge it on the spot with gold,

or give bills on Russia at St. Macaire (Nijnei Novgorod), Astracan, or

at Bokhara, which I had no reason to question: I took orders on the

latter city. The merchants enjoined the strictest secrecy; and their

anxiety was not surpassed by that of our own to appear poor; for the

possession of so much gold would have ill tallied with the coarse and

tattered garments which we now wore. But what a gratifying proof have

we here of the high character of our nation, to find the bills of those

who almost appeared as beggars cashed, without hesitation, in a foreign

and far distant capital. Above all, how much is our wonder excited

to find the ramifications of commerce extending uninterruptedly over

such vast and remote regions, differing as they do from each other in

language, religion, manners, and laws.

FOOTNOTES:

[15] Erskine’s Translation of Baber.

[16] A Persian couplet runs thus:--

“Dur juhan ust do taefu be peer;

Soonee i Balkh, Shiah i Cashmeer:”

which may be translated, that there is not an honest man among the

Soonees of Balkh or the Shiahs of Cashmeer.

[17] See Mr. Elphinstone’s Cabool, vol. i. p. 244. et seq.

CHAP. VI.

JOURNEY OVER THE HINDOO KOOSH, OR SNOWY MOUNTAINS.

~Quit Cabool.~

If we had quitted Peshawur with the good wishes of the chief, we were

now accompanied by those of his brother, the Nawab. On the 18th of May,

which happened on a Friday, we quitted Cabool after noontide prayers,

according to the usual custom of travellers, that we might not offend

the prejudices of the people, who also consider that hour auspicious.

We thought we had parted from the good Nawab at the door of his house,

where he gave us his blessing; but before leaving the city, he once

more joined us, and rode out for two or three miles. I do not think I

ever took leave of an Asiatic with more regret than I left this worthy

man. He seemed to live for every one but himself. He entertained us

with great hospitality during our stay; and had, day by day, urged us

to take any other road than that of Toorkistan, prognosticating every

evil to us. He now took leave of us with much feeling; nor was it

possible to suppress a tear as we said adieu. Though his brother, the

chief, had not caressed us as he of Peshawur, he had yet shown great

politeness and attention, of which we expressed ourselves most sensible

before taking our departure.

~Cafila-bashee. His arrangements and influence.~

~Contraband Korans.~