THE LEVEE ON NEW YEAR’S DAY.
The Mahomedan New Year’s Eve. Presents. The “Izzat” medal. Coinage
of Afghanistan: Rupees: Pice: the “Tilla.” Levee on New Year’s
Day. The guests: Maleks and Governors: The British Agent. Presents
to the Amîr. The Levee as a picture. Lunch. Chess as played in
Afghanistan. The great rider among men: his fall. The Amîr as a
Pathologist. The steam-engine pony: his paces: his wickedness.
Sight-seeing with the Princes. The Temple of Mazar. The booths at
the entrance to the Temple. The Park of Mazar. Native music. The
Afghan dance. The wrestling contests: Turkoman _v._ Mazari. Kabuli
wrestling.
March 21st is the Mahomedan New Year’s Day. On New Year’s Eve one of
the Chief Secretaries was announced. He entered, accompanied by some
servants carrying two trays with cloths over them. After the usual
salutations the Secretary gave me a letter. It was from His Highness
requesting my acceptance of the accompanying presents.
[Sidenote: The “Izzat” Medal.]
The cloths were lifted and I found that His Highness had conferred
upon me the gold Afghan Medal of Honour and had presented me with five
thousand rupees.
The medal was for the work I had done among the sick during the past
year, and the rupees for the portrait.
From the Sultana was a gold English lever hunting watch and chain, and
six or seven yards of stuff, the prevailing tint of which was Indian
red, but which was so woven with gold threads that it seemed red gold.
I heard that the medal was unique: it was the only one of the kind that
had been struck.
I do not think I have said anything about the coinage of Afghanistan.
The ordinary medium of exchange is the rupee. It is a smaller coin
than the kaldar, or Indian rupee, being about the size of a shilling.
Nominally, it is worth twelve annas, though there is no such coin as an
anna in circulation. A half rupee is called a kran. The copper coins
in circulation are called pice. Five pice go to the anna. There are
sixty or more pice in a rupee, according to the exchange, which can
always be found out by reference to the money-changers in the bazaars.
Formerly the coins were struck by hand. Quite recently His Highness
has established a minting machine in Kabul. I think the new rupee is
scarcely as artistic as the old: it is Europeanized, and it is said to
be worth an anna less. Pice, too, are now being made in the minting
machine. The Amîr is introducing the new rupee into circulation by
paying the soldiers of his army with that coin.
There is no gold Afghan coin in circulation, though the Bokhara
“Tilla,” worth about twelve shillings, is current. Many of the richer
Afghans hoard their wealth, and for this purpose they buy Bokhara
Tillas, or bar gold, from the alluvial deposits of the Oxus.
[Sidenote: The Levee on New Year’s Day.]
On New Year’s day, “Nau Rôz,” the Amîr held a Levee in the Palace
Gardens. I went about ten o’clock.
His Highness wore a white uniform, and over his shoulders was thrown
a dark green cloak, slightly embroidered with gold. He wore the otter
skin busby and diamond star that I painted in the portrait. He looked
very handsome.
Every one was as gorgeous as he could make himself; some looked
uncommonly well; a few ridiculous.
There was a great awning of crimson and white, supported on eleven
masts. Under it were seated, in rows--or rather kneeling, for they were
in the presence of the King--the Maliks and Governors of neighbouring
villages and towns, who had come to salaam His Highness. These were
almost all dressed in native costumes, with turbans.
The Guard, who had new uniforms, were in line, and the people of the
Court were grouped about near His Highness, who was seated in an
arm-chair.
I had a chair to the right of His Highness the Amîr, and somewhat
behind him. The rest stood or sat on the ground. The Armenian stood
behind my chair. The day was cold and the sky grey. I was dressed
in European costume with an overcoat, on the left breast of which
the Armenian had with great pride fixed the medal. He wanted me to
wear the watch and chain outside as well. As there was no sun I wore
an astrakhan hat of the Royal shape which had been presented to me.
Bands with European and native instruments played alternately. Tea was
brought to everyone by the servants, and I had a cigar. Then came cakes
and sweets. A special tray was brought to His Highness, and he was kind
enough to send me some from it, otherwise after my first bow and his
enquiry after my health, I did not occupy much of his attention.
Col. Attaullah Khan, the British Agent, who is a very tall fine man, a
Punjabi, came escorted by his guard, and attended by his native Doctor
and his Secretary, the highly educated Munshi Amin Ullah.
He made his salaam, and was invited to sit on the Amîr’s left, on the
ground. The Secretary and Doctor were seated away under the awning.
Then presents were brought and laid at His Highness’s feet. He seemed
just to glance at them, and they were taken away. There were all kinds
of things, the cost depending upon the wealth of the giver: silk
handkerchiefs, brass work, lamps, vases, fruit, crockery; but what
interested me most were the products of the Government workshops in
Mazar--rifles, swords, saddles, boots, sun helmets, and two tables of
carved wood uncommonly well made, and looking as though they came from
Europe.
As a picture, the whole scene was brilliant with colour; and the grey
sky, with the delicate pink and white of the blossoms covering the
trees and the faint green of the just budding leaves, made a very sweet
and harmonious background.
Presently the Amîr’s portrait was brought out and exhibited. Afterwards
breakfast (or lunch) was brought. His Highness’s table was placed in
front of him, and a little one was brought for me. The rest had theirs
on the ground, as usual. The chief cook waited upon me. After breakfast
a copper ewer and basin (aftabah and chillimchi) were taken to the
chief guests, and they washed their hands.
For the others long narrow damp towels, each reaching from end to end
of a row of guests, were passed along, so that a dozen or more could
wipe their hands at the same moment.
After another cigar I rose, made my bow, and retired, much to the
Armenian’s disgust. I think I was the first to go. Many people asked
to look at my medal, and the Commander-in-Chief, who was some little
distance from me, gave a congratulatory smile and bow as he touched his
breast.
I got home about half-past two; some sick people were brought, and
after a cup of tea I set to work again.
[Sidenote: The Game of Chess.]
In the evening I played chess. I had been playing with different
people, and had always been beaten. I determined, therefore, to play
the Armenian. He knew the moves, and we sat down to a game. We played
rapidly, and he grew very excited. He muttered in Pushtu, or shouted
in a mixture of Hindustani, Persian, and English. He swooped with his
Wazir or Queen, and cried “Kisht! check!” I took his Queen with a Pawn,
at which he was indignant: he said it was not fair, and he wanted his
Queen back. I began to doubt if he would ever make, so to speak, a good
player; he was too impulsive: he swooped and slaughtered right and
left. We had one game where in the end we had nothing left but a King
and a Pawn each: then he took my Pawn. I told him the game was drawn,
because I saw he would get across and have a Castle before I could stop
him; but he said--No, he had won. I appealed to the onlookers, and they
said politely, “Undoubtedly the game is drawn.” However, I consented to
a compromise, and allowed it to be drawn in his favour.
Chess as played in Afghanistan is slightly different from chess as
played in England.
In the first move, the Pawn goes only one square. The Queen is called
the “Wazir,” or Prime Minister, and stands on the King’s _right_. The
Bishop is called the “Fil,” or Elephant. The Knight is called “Asp,”
or Horse, or sometimes the “Sowar,” that is “Rider,” or Knight. The
Castle is called the “Rookh,” and is supposed to be a Redoubt or Fort.
Sometimes it is called the “Tôp,” or Cannon. There is some slight
difference in the castling, though I forget exactly what, otherwise,
the pieces have the same moves as in England.
My “fool-horse”--the fighter, with tooth and nail (that is to say,
hoof)--developed “cracked heels.” This was unfortunate, for I knew
nothing about horse doctoring, and he got into the habit of stumbling
and coming down on his nose. Twice did I remain on under these
circumstances, and proudly I said to the Armenian,
“Behold, now! I am as a great rider among men.”
“Yes, sir?” said the Armenian, “I think it you fall off.”
But, alas! Pride cometh, then cometh the fall. Then next time he came
down I went over his head. There was a sentence I had to learn in my
Persian lesson that day that seemed appropriate, it was:--“Ba zamin
ûftad, Ustoghonash rèz rèz shud,” which means, “He fell to the earth
and his bones were broken to pieces.” Not that mine were, but they
might have been. I seemed, as it were, to have lost confidence in my
horse, and I said to the Armenian, “This must not occur again; see to
it.”
“Sir! what _I_ do?” he asked.
“Sell him, or shoot him.”
But he said No; he would report the matter to Amîr Sahib at the next
Durbar.
[Sidenote: The Amîr as a Pathologist.]
Tuesday arrived and we went to the Durbar. After I had saluted
His Highness, and was seated, a case of epilepsy was brought. His
Highness described to me the symptoms the man was exhibiting, told
me the Persian name of the disease, and gave his own views as to
the pathology. He told me the old books said, that a man in this
condition was possessed by the Devil, “Shaitân;” but, that this was,
of course, absurd. He went on to say that he considered the disease
was due to an organism--probably, animal--having found its way into
the ventricles of the brain: the irritation caused by its presence
culminating in a nervous explosion; the outward signs of which were a
convulsive seizure, a thrusting forward of the tongue, spasm of the
jaws, a foaming at the mouth, and insensibility. He said, he wished to
administer a native medicine, but, at the same time, I was to give such
European drugs as I thought suitable for the case.
I asked, then, if some wooden stethoscopes might be made for the
Hindustani assistants, as neither of them possessed one. I had been
giving them some instructions, and had been holding classes in the
evening for the compounders. I found there was not a great deal I could
teach the Priest compounder “Hafiz.” He was very well up in his work,
and was an intelligent man, the only one I could really rely on in an
operation.
Then the Armenian considered that the time had come to speak about the
horse, and he waxed eloquent.
His Highness said, “Why ride a horse so dangerous; I have many horses.”
He told me he had a black horse, a remarkable animal, whose speed
was like that of a steam-engine. This he would send for. It had been
coveted by many of the Courtiers: one wanted it for his son, another
for himself; but His Highness would not give it to anyone. I had never
seen it. The horse was sent for. I pictured a lovely creature, like
an Arab, with a small head, slender limbs, and broad chest. Judge of
my surprise when I beheld a black shaggy pony, all mane and tail. I
thought within myself: “They are playing it low down upon the stranger
within their gates.”
But, at a sign from the Amîr, the head-groom mounted and off the pony
started. He did not gallop, canter, trot, nor walk: he simply “skated”
over the ground at terrific speed. They said he could keep the pace up
for thirty miles without stopping, and could travel from Mazar to Kabul
in four days!
Hence, if one found it necessary to move from one place to another
hurriedly, this horse seemed likely to be invaluable.
His Highness said that as this horse was not beautiful I was to choose
two other horses, handsome and swift. The pony I was to keep at my
house, and the other two should be kept in his own stable, and when I
needed them I was to send for them.
That black pony was uncanny. An evil spirit--several evil
spirits--possessed him. The first thing he did, when we got him home,
was to deliberately untie his halter, walk off to the “fool horse,”
though he was only about half his size, and fight him. He went so
quietly and seemed so gentle--just at first: but he was a fiend. They
fought furiously, striking, kicking, and tearing at each other with
their teeth. If we had not succeeded in separating them the “fool
horse” would have been killed.
[Sidenote: The “Steam-engine” Pony.]
Shortly after that, and without any hurry, he slipped his head out of
his headstall and walked off to a horse belonging to the Armenian, a
young one he had lately bought to trade with in Kabul. The young one
was frightened, and the “Steam-engine,” seeing it was an adversary not
worthy of his steel--or teeth--merely nipped him in the neck and walked
back again.
The next day I rode him to the Hospital. The Armenian was riding a
grey--a cross between an Arab and a Kataghani, a swift animal--and
one of the compounders was on the “fool horse,” who stumbled. When
we got through the bazaars I gave the pony his head, and off he
skated. I leant back and occupied myself in hanging on. He kept the
grey at a gallop all the way to the Hospital: about a quarter of an
hour afterwards the compounder arrived on the “fool horse.” I saw my
patients, cut off a man’s thumb at the wrist, then we skated back again.
One afternoon, it was in April, as I was coming back from seeing a
patient, I met the two little Princes, Hafiz Ullah and Amin Ullah,
who were aged respectively about nine and three. They were in their
palanquins, and there was a guard of about thirty soldiers. As the sun
was hot, a large umbrella was held over each Prince.
I pulled up my horse and saluted, and the elder of the two Princes
asked if I would not accompany them. The Armenian and I, therefore,
turned our horses and rode with them. I wondered where we were going.
We marched through the streets and bazaars, the guard flourishing their
almond sticks to clear people out of the way, till we reached the gates
leading into the grounds around the Temple or Mosque of Mazar.
Here the Armenian and I dismounted, and I walked by the side of the
elder Prince’s palanquin: the Armenian came behind. The Prince’s
Kaffir Page boys were there, his tutor, and other young men, officers
of his household. I had never been so near the Mosque before. They
say it is about two hundred years old. It is truly Oriental in style,
with cupola, pierced stone (lattice work) windows, and minarets. The
blue-stone--or porcelain--bricks of which it is built are of different
tints, the contrasting tints being arranged in patterns. In the
immediate grounds, or square, of the Temple, were a number of shops, or
booths, where they sold handkerchiefs, porcelain articles, and strings
of beads, or rosaries. In the front of each shop was an awning of rush
matting, supported on two poles. The sun shone brilliantly, and in the
distance the mountains glimmered shadowy blue in the heated air. The
crowds of people, and the shopkeepers, salaamed as the Princes went by.
We marched through and on into the Park of Mazar--the Chahar Bagh. The
park is about a mile in width each way. We went along the paths under
the trees till we reached a large open space, where I found there
was to be a wrestling contest. At one end of the space was a mound or
platform, about six feet above the level. On it were spread carpets;
and supported on poles was a brilliantly-coloured awning to keep off
the glare of the sun.
[Sidenote: The Spectators at the Wrestling-match.]
There were two chairs for the Princes and a chair was given to me. The
guard was arranged round, the Page boys stood in a line behind us, and
the others, including the Armenian and the tutor, were seated on the
ground.
The tutor was a smart young fellow, very polished in manner, who used
to cheat at cards in the most amusing and barefaced way. I had met
him before. Around the open space were crowds of spectators, all in
national costume: most of them with white turbans, long loose coats
of various colours, and white, baggy pyjamas, tight at the ankle. The
front ranks were seated, cross-legged, on the ground; behind them were
rows standing. The ground sloped upwards for about three feet, so
that all could see. Forming a background were the trees, all covered
with green, for the summer comes rapidly in Turkestan; the roses were
blooming in April.
First, the band played. The musicians stood in the centre, their
musical instruments being drums and pipes, or flageolets. The latter
were large, black instruments, bound with brass, and with a tone not
unlike that of the bagpipes.
They played an Afghan tune, most quaint to my ear, and the drums beat
rhythmically, but with a rhythm quite different from anything I had
heard in Europe.
Then there came forward about thirty Afghan soldiers, belonging to an
artillery regiment. They were to dance an Afghan dance. Their dress
was the usual costume of the Pathan soldier--the conical cap and small
turban, white vest hanging loose over the white pyjamas, and a short
jacket. The Princes, by the way, both wore military uniforms and belts,
with gem-bedecked buckles, and astrakhan hats of the Royal shape. The
tutor wore a plain grey tunic and an astrakhan hat of a different
shape. I sported a turban, for I was afraid of the sun, and the turban
is an excellent protection to the head. The Kaffir Pages had grey
tunics and trousers and soft grey felt hats. The Princes and their
suite therefore were European in dress.
The thirty soldiers formed a ring round the musicians; the drums beat
a sort of slow march, and the dancers walked slowly round singing a
chant in falsetto--one-half sang a verse, the other half answered.
Presently the pipes began their shrill wailing, and the dancers moved
faster, with a step something like a mazurka. Quicker and quicker grew
the music, and quicker and quicker the dance: turbans and shoes were
tossed off without a pause. The circle widened and lessened at regular
intervals, and arms were waved and hands clapped simultaneously. The
dancers became excited, uttering at intervals a sharp cry. Still
continuing the mazurka step, every dancer at each momentary pause in
the music whirled round on his toes to the right, then to the left.
Some were, of course, more graceful than others. One in particular, I
noticed--a huge man with a short black beard, and long wavy black hair
parted on one side; he was a most enthusiastic and graceful dancer. It
was a curiously stirring sight. One could imagine fiery Afghans worked
up to a pitch of excitement almost approaching frenzy. In time the
dancers became exhausted, and dropped off one by one.
[Sidenote: Wrestling: Turkoman v. Mazari.]
Then came a dance by about a dozen boys, aged about thirteen or
fourteen; they wore their hair long, and were dressed as girls. I was
not interested. Their dancing was not to be compared with, though it
somewhat resembled, that of the European ballet.
When the dances were over, tea was brought to us under the awning, and
then the wrestling commenced. This was excellent.
First came Turkoman soldiers matched against Mazarîs. They were
barefooted, and wore the small skull cap of the Turkoman, short cotton
breeches, and long loose coat unfastened.
A pair advanced and took their stand a few paces apart, near the
Prince’s platform. They watched each other a moment, then warily sidled
round. Suddenly one rushed forward and they closed, each seizing the
other by the collar and elbow. Rarely could a wrestler manage to get
both his arms under those of his opponent: when he did, the bout was
over in a moment. By collar and elbow each tried to twist the other off
his feet or trip him. It was necessary to throw the opponent, so that
he should be flat on his back on the ground. Often there was a long
writhing struggle when they both were down, till one could disengage.
Some of the bouts grew very exciting, but the Turkomans invariably
came off winners, they were so immensely strong, with such Herculean
muscles. The Mazarîs showed plenty of pluck and endurance, but they
were no match for the Turkomans. Finally, seeing that the Mazarîs were
out-matched, the elder Prince pitted the Turkomans one against the
other. The men were not very keen upon wrestling their comrades.
There happened to be two Turkomans of enormous size; the biggest men
I ever saw. It would have been folly for anyone there to stand up to
either of them, and the Prince, after some persuasion, induced them to
have a bout together.
They stood up--great giants--and walking deliberately up to one another
they grappled. There was no sudden movement. It was a sheer trial of
strength. At the end of the first round neither had any advantage.
After that they got warmed to their work, and each grew a little
jealous of the other. They commenced now in good earnest, and what
had gone before was play to what came after. The knotted muscles, the
clenched jaw, and the distended veins showed the enormous strain of
the mighty heaves. At last, with a supreme effort, one threw the other
backwards, and, like the fall of two great oaks, the giants came to the
ground together.
[Sidenote: Kabuli Wrestling.]
Then came the Kabulis, who wrestled stripped except for a cincture
round the waist. Theirs was a more complicated style than that of the
Turkomans: they seemed in excellent training.
One Kabuli, a well-built fellow, threw man after man who came forward,
though each was a practised wrestler. He had wonderful powers of
endurance. The last man but one who came against him was a strong young
fellow. He heaved the champion off the ground, carried him a step or
two and tried to fling him down. He might as well have tried to fling
a tiger down. How it came about I could not tell, they were so locked
and writhing, but in a second or two the champion was on his feet and
the young man down. These men belonged to the artillery regiment that
had danced.
During the wrestling, when the spectators became excited, and a popular
champion was in the ring, they shouted for success or groaned for
failure nearly as much as Englishmen would have done.
Then came the distribution of prizes. To the successful wrestlers the
Prince gave Turkoman coats of brilliant colours--such as the Oriental
loves.
While the sports were going on the Commander-in-Chief and some Officers
arrived. They saluted the Princes and bowed to me; but they would not
sit on the ground while I had a chair. In the presence of the Amîr
they had, at first, been greatly offended at sitting lower than I, and
had made some remark on the subject after I had left: they received,
however, such a severe reprimand from His Highness that they never
repeated it.
When the sun began to set the air became cool, and the Princes rose
and took their departure. I accompanied their Highnesses, leaving the
Commander-in-Chief and the Officers in the Park.