THE YOUNG PRINCES.
Infant Prince as the Sultana’s Deputy. Reception by the Prince:
the pavilion: the procession: the guard: costume: presents. Visit
to Prince Hafiz Ullah: his house: conversation: presents. The
wrestling again. Her Majesty’s photograph. Lunch with the Prince in
the Palace Gardens. The “Royal manner.” The third day’s wrestling.
The mother of Prince Hafiz Ullah. A drawing of the Prince.
Adventure with the fat General: his officiousness: the after effect
on certain patients: his bullying: the after effect on himself.
The power of the Amîr’s name. The Amîr as a Consulting Surgeon.
The Fast of Ramazàn: effect of the Fast. Overdose of tobacco:
wailing. The Evening Durbar: His Highness’s remarks: danger if a
King fasts: “Marazàn.” The Durbar as a picture. The “Pig” incident
and the explanation. The surgical operation: attempted vendetta:
the result: the old lady’s sympathy. Flowers in the Palace. The
Usbàk’s artistic design: the Amîr’s criticism. The Amîr’s diary.
The present of sugar. Official notice of return march to Kabul. The
“Cracker.” End of Ramazàn. Preparations for the Exodus. The guard
of Amazons.
On the following day, after I had finished my work, I heard that the
infant Prince, Mahomed Omer, was leaving the Harem Serai, where he had
been living since his recovery from the vaccination, to take possession
of a house that had been freshly prepared for him. I sent to enquire
if he would receive me that afternoon. This may seem a great deal
of ceremony when a baby is the principal personage, but as a matter
of fact it was really paying a ceremonial visit to the Sultana. She
being a Mussulman, of course did not give audience to anyone: her
son received for her. At the time of which I write the baby Prince
certainly took precedence of his brothers, the Princes Hafiz Ullah and
Amin Ullah, who were in Turkestan; but whether he now takes precedence
of his two eldest brothers, Habibullah and Nasrullah, I cannot say.
[Sidenote: Reception by the Infant Prince.]
I was informed that the Prince would receive me. I started accompanied
by the Armenian. The house was near the Harem Serai.
We were first shown into an outer garden, containing a house
in which lived my small friend Mahomed Omer, son of the Deputy
Commander-in-Chief in Kabul. Mahomed Omer was the infant Prince’s
“Commander-in-Chief.” He was dressed in scarlet and gold, and
marshalling the Kaffir Page boys in military order, he fancied himself
quite a soldier. From this garden a screened doorway led into an inner
and larger garden, the Prince’s. In this were two adjoining pavilions,
or summer-houses, one larger and the other smaller. They were open
and airy, without doors or window sashes, and were carpeted, and
hung with crimson and white. The larger pavilion had about a dozen
chairs arranged against the wall: there was no other furniture. It was
apparently a waiting-room, or perhaps a reception-room for visitors of
lower rank. As no one had arrived I sat there with the Armenian.
Presently we heard a trumpet, and a few minutes after the hoarse voice
of an officer as he shouted some word of command.
The Armenian said,
“Shahzada, Sahib, meaiyad.” “The Prince is coming.”
First entered the Kaffir Pages, marshalled by Mahomed Omer, then came
the Prince, carried in the arms of the old Hakim Abdul Wahid--the only
Hakim in the country, so the Amîr used to say, who was really learned.
Then came three of the nurses: the young one I have spoken of and
two older ones. These were brought from the Harem Serai in a covered
palanquin: after them two or three officials in uniform, whose faces
I recognized, though in what capacity they served I did not know; and
lastly, the guard of a hundred soldiers.
I came outside the larger pavilion to receive the Prince, and followed
him into the smaller one. In this was a couch covered with silk and
supported on silvered legs, modelled in the shape of conventional or
heraldic birds. There was a child’s high chair of carved oak with a
tapestry seat in the room, and a small table with ornaments on it in
the corner.
The Prince was placed in the chair, and he sat upright like a little
man nine months old. He wore a tunic of gold-embroidered silk, white
pyjamas and astrakhan hat, of the royal shape. In his hand he had a
gold rattle.
A chair was placed for me, and the others stood or sat on the ground.
After the usual courteous enquiries and some conversation, in which,
of course, Hakim Abdul Wahid was the Prince’s deputy, a large tray
of sweetmeats with loaves of sugar was placed at my feet. I do not
quite know the significance of this custom: I know it is symbolical,
and I think to symbolize the wish of the host that his guest’s future
existence, in this world and the next, may be filled with sweet
emotions. By and bye, little Prince Amin Ullah arrived, accompanied
by his tutor, but with very little State, compared with that of his
brother.
[Sidenote: Visit to Prince Hafiz Ullah.]
After the inevitable tea, I took leave of their Highnesses and
departed. On the way home, I saw the tutor of Prince Hafiz Ullah at the
window of his Prince’s house. He smiled and beckoned me to come in.
There was a sentry at the door, and the Armenian and I went in. The
house was not so good as that of the Baby Prince, nor was it as good as
mine.
Prince Hafiz Ullah was seated on the ground on a leopard skin, and as
there were no chairs I also sat on the ground on a sort of mattress.
The Armenian went off to my house, which was quite near, for some
cigarettes, and I stayed with the Prince for about an hour and a-half,
till the heat of the afternoon was less. His Highness courteously
said that I was not a servant in Afghanistan, but his friend and his
brother. He asked if I would go again with him to the park to see the
wrestling, as the sports were not over.
As this was my first visit to little Hafiz Ullah Khan, he asked me
to accept a present: a leather pocket-book, a pocket-knife, and a
walking-stick, the best he had.
I have often been somewhat surprised at the inability of most Afghans
to distinguish a genuine article from an imitation. Merchants make a
harvest in the country, by taking advantage of this want of knowledge.
At half-past four we started for the park. The wrestling and dancing
were a repetition of the exhibition of the day before. The Turkomans
still carried all before them. They were not all such hugely tall
men, though they were all excessively muscular. There were no Kabuli
wrestlers this day, but, as I happened to say I thought the Kabulis
were specially good wrestlers, the Prince gave orders for a display of
Kabuli wrestling for the morrow.
We got home at half-past seven in the evening, and I sent some
photographs to the Prince--I had nothing else to give him--one of our
Queen, one of the Prince of Wales, and two or three more that I had.
He was pleased, as he is fond of pictures, and he was particularly
interested in the portraits of the Queen and Prince of Wales.
The next day was Friday, the Sabbath, and the Prince sent me an
invitation to lunch with him in the Palace Gardens. His Highness, the
Amîr, was away out on the plains shooting, and there was no garden
attached to the Prince’s house. Two soldiers came to escort me--not
with fixed bayonets, for I was not a prisoner, at any rate, not
nominally, though perhaps actually; for the position was, with all its
interest, not very far removed from honourable confinement.
The sun shone brilliantly, and we sat under the almond trees. The
Prince, in native costume, sat on a sort of divan with carpet and
cushions. I had a chair and table. The tutor and others were there,
and the guards were posted around under the trees. I smoked cigarettes
and talked. It was very pleasant, surrounded as we were by flowers and
grass, and there were so many trees that we seemed almost in the heart
of a wood. I actually saw the Prince laugh!--for the first time. He was
a dignified and polished little man, and has, the Amîr says--with one
other son--the “Royal manner.”
At one o’clock lunch was brought.
Afterwards the Prince asked if I would accompany him to the Chahar
Bagh, to see the sports again. I said I should enjoy doing so, and he
went away with his tutor to be attired in “purple and fine linen,” or
in other words, in European military dress. They were some time gone,
and I wandered about under the trees by myself.
When the Prince returned we started. Being the Sabbath there were a
greater number of spectators than on the previous occasions. So much
time was taken up in finding suitable Mazarîs to oppose the muscular
Turkomans, that there was no opportunity for the Kabuli wrestlers
to come into the ring. Otherwise the dancing and wrestling were a
repetition of the former days.
[Sidenote: The Mother of Prince Hafiz Ullah.]
When we got home the Prince sent me some oranges, and a Russian knife,
fork, and spoon, in a case, and a Turkestan cap embroidered with
gold, worked by his mother. This lady, a wife of His Highness’s, is
from Kaffristan. She is said to be one of the most beautiful women in
the country, and is called, on account of her perfect pink and white
complexion, “The Pomegranate Flower.”
I made a careful pencil drawing of the Prince one day. He is a
fair-haired little fellow, with good features and dark eyes. It was a
pretty picture, and I heard that His Highness was very pleased. The
Sultana, they said, was not so well pleased: the Prince is not her son.
About this time, it was in April, I had some trouble with one of the
Generals, a fat man--not that I object to fat men unless they interfere
with me--with a voice like that of a full-grown bull. This fat man
attempted to bully me.
I reached the Hospital that morning at ten a.m., having seen thirty or
forty patients at my own place first. General M---- A---- Khan, who was
visiting the Hospital, enquired why I did not come earlier. I politely
explained that I was seeing patients at my own house. He said I ought
to come to the Hospital first, and attend to the others afterwards.
I was surprised and somewhat annoyed, and looking him in the face, I
said--
“Chira?” “Why?” He let the matter drop.
We then went into the different wards, or rooms, where the patients
were, and he said that such and such men had been in the Hospital for
so long, why did I not cure them and send them out. I said--
“Because their disease does not admit of cure,” and added, through the
Interpreter, “Tell him he can take that, and that, and that man away,
if he likes.”
I had no intention of being cruel to the men; speaking in English it
did not strike me they would understand, though of course they did when
it was interpreted. They seemed to give up hope at once. One shut his
eyes and died the same day, another the next. I could, at first, hardly
believe the report when I heard it: then I cursed that fat man.
When we had gone the round of the patients we came out into the garden.
There he stood, this man, surrounded by his staff, and he commenced to
take me to task. He said I was to give the patients _good_ medicine
and see that I cured them--one had Bright’s disease, another advanced
Phthisis, and so on! and was continuing his tirade, when it struck me
quite suddenly--for I am a mild man--that I was being ill-treated. At
once I thirsted for his blood with a dreadful thirst--the effect of the
climate probably--and I desired greatly to assault him with fire arms
or with steel. Fortunately, I had neither at hand, or the situation
might have become complicated. The Persian I had learnt went back on
me, as it were, and I had to speak English.
[Sidenote: The Power of the Amîr’s Name.]
“Does this son of a pig, whose ancestors were pigs for many
generations; this iniquitous mass of vileness, with much body and
little brain, does he----;” but this was enough for the Armenian, he
guessed at the rest, and he turned on the General.
In vituperation--for volume of sound and rapidity of words--I never met
the Armenian’s equal. I have heard talk of the ladies of Billingsgate,
and I should like to put one in the ring with the Armenian.
It grew alarming. I thought so, and so did the General. He backed and
looked exceedingly uncomfortable. He tried feebly to stem the torrent:
he might as well have tried to stop the Kabul river when swollen by the
melting snows. Then he essayed the playful, he smiled an apologetic
smile and offered me a rose: and still the Armenian foamed:--The
whole matter should come before Amîr Sahib, he was the only master in
Afghanistan; if he had a complaint let him bring it then, and so on.
Many times the General tried to speak, to explain, to remonstrate, but
straight ahead went the Armenian, never pausing one moment. At last the
General thought he had better go, and he went.
He had not escaped yet: a letter from the Armenian followed him. In
it he was solemnly warned never to attempt that sort of thing again
(he never did), that a European will not bear it, and that this
particular European would proceed at once, on the slightest attempt at
a repetition of the offence, to “very much kick and blow.”
At the next Durbar the General happened to be standing not very far
from my chair, and the Armenian said to him--
“The English doctor wishes to speak to Amîr Sahib about that little
affair at the Hospital.”
The General said, “For God sake don’t let him. I am not his master; I
am his slave, his dog, his anything!”
So the matter ended.
While the Amîr was out shooting on the plains, one of the Page boys
was thrown from his horse and the inner end of his collar-bone was
dislocated upwards. His Highness on seeing the displacement said there
was no need to send for the English doctor.
“Bandages,” he said, “are useless. Leave it alone.” He was quite right.
On April the 22nd, began the Mahomedan fast, “Ramazàn.” They fast for a
month, neither eating, drinking, nor smoking during the day. Directly
the twilight commences, however, that is when they can just no longer
distinguish a white from a black thread, they commence, and go on
pretty much all night.
Fortunately, the year had been very cool; cloudy, windy, and rainy, so
that there was much less sickness than usual in the month. Generally
both during and after Ramazàn there is a great prevalence of fever
and bowel complaints. The first thing an Afghan does, when he breaks
his fast in the evening, is to light the chillim and fill his lungs
with tobacco smoke. It is a tremendously big dose, and often produces
serious consequences, such as giddiness, vomiting, and insensibility.
During the fast they brought a man to me one evening on a charpoy. He
was a great big fellow, and they said he was insensible from smoking.
He was dead. The dose of tobacco he had taken had been too much for
his heart. As soon as I said he was dead, the brother and the other
soldiers who had brought him were greatly upset. They wailed and wept
aloud.
[Sidenote: The Evening Durbar.]
The first Durbar I went to after His Highness’s return from his
shooting expedition on the plains was during the month of Ramazàn. The
Durbar was, of necessity, held in the evening, at seven o’clock, and,
the weather being fine, it was held outside the Palace, in the gardens.
For some reason or other His Highness, I could tell, was pleased
with me. For instance, in addressing me, he used a familiar form of
expression, such as one uses to a friend. He said, it was quite a long
time since he had seen me. He enquired if the Hindustani assistants
were working well, and congratulated himself that the year was cool and
healthy compared with the last. He said he himself did not fast during
Ramazàn: that there were duties a King owed to his people, for when a
man fasts he has not that control over himself and his temper that a
King, with life and death in his hands, should have. He said, “Ramazàn”
should be called “Marazàn.”--“Maraz” meaning “disease.”
Then the Armenian brought forward two or three people on whom I had
had to operate for “stone,” and exhibited them with much pride. His
Highness was pleased, and gave presents to the patients. One, I
remember, received a horse and a hundred rupees.
The Durbar was one of the most striking and picturesque sights I have
seen. The background was formed by the deep shadows of the trees:
under a brilliantly coloured awning, lit up by a multitude of lamps,
sat some two hundred officers, in every kind of uniform, resplendent
with gold embroidery; and at intervals, around the awning and Palace,
stood an Afghan soldier in native costume, holding a blazing torch in
one hand and an oil flask in the other, and the gleam from the torches
on the billowy masses of leaf gave those soft touches of light in the
background which prevent it being heavy.
We had dinner somewhat early, as the men had been fasting all day. When
we got home the Armenian gave an explanation as to why the Amîr was so
particularly charming. It was this:--During the shooting expedition,
a great deal of wild pig had been killed, and the chief Cook sent a
messenger to enquire whether I would have roast pork for dinner. I was
highly indignant, thinking, that as the pig is unclean, an insult was
intended. I ordered the messenger to be thrashed--he was the bearer
of evil tidings--and threatened direful things if such a message were
repeated. The Sultana then sent for the Armenian and enquired if I
would not like a young pig or two, and whether it were not a fact that
Christians ate pig.
The Armenian said that Christians were indeed allowed by their
religion to do so; but that neither Christian Priests nor Christian
Doctors ever suffered anything unclean to pass their lips!!
[Sidenote: The Attempted Vendetta: the Result.]
The same evening a man was brought on a charpoy suffering great pain
from a “strangulated hernia.” To save his life it was necessary to
operate that night. He was moved to the Hospital, where all the
instruments were, and I did the operation by the light of two or three
tallow candles. The next morning the brother of the patient was lying
in wait for me at the Hospital with several large knives, seeking to
slay me. He said I had killed his brother!
“On the contrary,” I explained, “I have saved his life.”
Then the Armenian came forward in all his strength.
“Harem Zada!” he shouted, “thou base-born scoundrel, thy _Father_ could
not speak in the Sahib’s presence!” and he laid his stick across the
man’s shoulders with such vigour and energy that presently he broke
it. He then flung the pieces at him and told him to “get”--“Birau” in
Persian. He “got” accordingly.
Coming back from the Hospital we met an old lady walking. She was well
dressed but wore no veil. I knew her very well to speak to, but who she
was I didn’t quite know. I had heard that she was nurse to the Amîr
when he was a child. She seemed equally at home in the Harem and in the
Durbar. The Armenian related the incident at the Hospital, and she was
suitably indignant and sympathetic. Perhaps she did not treat me with
that profound respect one would think was the due of a distinguished
Foreigner, for she called me “Buchcha,” “Youngster”!!! I overlooked
it; for the opportunity of speaking to a lady was rare, and I enjoyed
it in direct proportion to its rarity.
The next Durbar evening during Ramazàn was cold and showery. His
Highness sat at the window of the Palace. I was invited inside. The
scent was sweet from great clusters of roses arranged in vases. After
dinner (we had two kinds of ice pudding, among other things) an Usbàk
was ushered in, bringing a design he had drawn on paper for a wall
decoration--flowers and leaves treated conventionally.
His Highness examined the design and said it was not bad and it was not
good. This just about expressed my own opinion. The drawing was good
but the colours were gaudy and clashed with one another. His Highness
said he had some work of that kind done by a Kabuli which he would show
me, and he sent for it.
It was an illuminated Manuscript book, and the cover inside and out was
painted with flowers and birds treated decoratively. It was beautiful.
The drawing was excellent; the colouring was quite harmonious, and the
balance of each design was, to my eye, perfect. I said I had never
seen anything of the kind better. The book itself, I was told, was His
Highness’s diary.
During the evening some presents were laid at His Highness’s feet.
Among them were two huge loaves of white sugar, about 20 lbs. each.
These he directed to be given to me. Knowing something about the
meaning of the custom, I was very pleased.
Before we left, His Highness said that shortly after the termination of
Ramazàn we should leave Mazar for Kabul.
His Highness had promised me leave of absence for some months after his
arrival in Kabul, and when I got home that night I grew enthusiastic
in my description to the Armenian of the wonders and sights of London.
After talking some time, I said I had seen a man seize the back of a
chair with his teeth, hold it out straight, and put another on the top
of it. The Armenian was not to be outdone. He said he had seen a man
take a charpoy--a bedstead--balance it on one leg on the tip of his
tongue, and then dance! He also described to me a curious European
sweetmeat that he had met with in his travels.
“I saw him in Lahore,” he said. “Like this you catch him, tear him up,
and he is call ‘Bang’!”
I concluded that he wished to describe the ordinary Christmas cracker.
[Sidenote: End of Ramazàn.]
On the evening of May 20th the fast of Ramazàn was over, and a certain
number of guns were fired. The next day was a Festival. It was
intensely hot, and His Highness held a Reception in the Palace Gardens.
Wishing to lay a present before him, for those I ordered from London
had not arrived, I painted a portrait of myself, which His Highness
was pleased to accept. He sent me some apricots from his own plate by
Malek, the favourite Page boy.
In the course of the morning the infant Prince, Mahomed Omer, was
brought to the Reception. His Page boys, of whom there were a dozen
or more, were dressed in _Scotch_ dress with kilts and white solar
helmets. Everyone stood as the little Prince was carried up to the
Amîr. This caught my attention at the time, for it was not usual for
all to stand when the other two little Princes entered.
When I left I went on to the gardens of the Harem Serai to pay a
complimentary visit to the Sultana. Here a tray full of sweetmeats and
sugar was laid at my feet, and the Armenian took care it should be
conveyed to my house and promptly devoured.
A day or two after the termination of the Fast, I saw my neighbour
opposite, the Mirza Abdur Rashid, superintending the packing of some of
His Highness’s valuables--diamonds, shawls, and furs, for transport to
Kabul. Accordingly, I gave orders at the Hospital to pack up certain of
the drugs and instruments; those that I needed. Some were left for the
use of the Hindustani who was to remain behind and attend to the sick
of the regiments which were to garrison Mazar.
The Armenian then set to work to pack all my household belongings,
including the carpets; and he obtained from His Highness the necessary
orders for pack-horses, both for my baggage and the Hospital stores.
On the 24th of May I heard cannon firing; on that day the troops
marched out of Mazar to camp on the plains, on the first stage to
Kabul. I endeavoured to ride to the Hospital to attend the sick, but
every road was so crowded with loaded camels, pack-horses, and mules,
that there was no way of getting there, and I had to return. The same
day the Amîr sent me a beautiful little bay horse to share with the
“Steam-engine” pony the labour of carrying me to Kabul.
[Sidenote: The Guard of Amazons.]
A fortnight after the troops had marched out on to the plains, the
Sultana with the other ladies of the Harem left Mazar. They started
soon after daybreak. Their guard consisted not only of a body of
the Amîr’s soldiers, but of a regiment of mounted Amazons, some two
hundred, the female slaves and servants of the Harem. These rode on
men’s saddles, were veiled, and wore on the head, over the veil, solar
helmets, or felt hats. Each was armed with a sabre and a carbine. A
syce, or groom, was told off to look after each three horses.
Two days afterwards His Highness and the Court, including myself,
started on the journey. We saw little or nothing of the Harem and
guard, for they kept two days’ march ahead of the main body during the
whole journey.
[Illustration]