THE ARRIVAL IN KABUL.
The Durbar in Haibuk. “Rustom’s throne.” The ancient caves. The
wounded Governor: Kabul dentistry. The Amîr and the sketches:
His Highness’ joke. Another Durbar: the Amîr’s prescription. The
erring Hakim. Courtesy of His Highness. “Microbes.” Illness.
Elephant riding. A grateful peasant. Dangerous passes. The Durbar
at Shush-Bûrjah: the hot river. Accidents on the “Tooth-Breaker.”
Akrab-Abad. The quarrel of the cooks: the result. The camp of the
camels. A pet dog. Pushed over the edge. Evil results of “temper.”
Kindness of Amîr. A cheap banquet. Coal. Arrival of Englishmen.
Durbar at Kalai Kasi. The Amîr again as a physician. Approach to
Kabul. Reception by the Princes. The “High garden.” The Pavilion.
Malek the Page. Arrival of the Amîr: greeting of the Princes. The
Reception. Arrival at the Workshops. Hospitality.
We remained in Haibuk for nearly a fortnight, the army being camped
on the mountain. I sat all day in the stifling tent drinking iced
water and reading Shakespeare. At intervals during the day, sick and
injured people were brought and I attended to them. But those wretched
“microbes” that I had swallowed in my fever on the plains began to work
their wicked will on me, and I became ill.
[Sidenote: Durbar in Haibuk.]
Four days after we arrived His Highness held a Durbar. After I had seen
my patients I mounted the bay and rode through the town to where His
Highness was sitting. This was in a rather large garden attached to a
house. There were some big trees and a good many flowers in the garden.
Among the latter, I remember noticing the “Fleur de Lys,” or French
lily. A pond or tank, supplied by an irrigation channel, was in the
garden, and near it sat His Highness on a couch covered with silk and
cloth of gold. The couch was shaded by a large red and white awning.
The Courtiers and Pages stood near, and all around were cornfields. I
had taken with me a catalogue of revolvers from a London firm (Colt’s)
that His Highness had asked me, with the help of the Armenian, to
translate. When he had examined the translation he spoke of the city of
Haibuk, and explained how he intended to fortify it, and how the water
supply would be ensured. He told me there was a remarkable ancient
monument near Haibuk, and some ancient caves of considerable interest.
He advised my riding out to see them, as they were not very far from
the town. Lunch was brought, and afterwards His Highness gave me a
plateful of nectarines as big as peaches.
I rode out the next day with the Armenian and some others, to see the
ancient monument.
[Sidenote: Rustom’s Throne.]
I found that a small rocky hill, or spur, at the foot of the mountains,
had been rounded at the apex into a cupola: the rock all around it
being cut away as a sort of trench, or moat, some twenty feet deep
and eight or nine feet across. On the top of the rounded cupola was,
apparently, a tiny temple, flat-topped, with a doorway on one side
flanked by pillars, which, to the best of my recollection, were Greek
in style. We got across the trench, or moat, and were able to examine
the structure on the top. Apparently, it was cut out of the rock. The
doorway was cut inwards for about two feet, and ended in flat rock.
Writing from recollection--it was in 1890 I saw it--I should say the
“temple” was about seven feet high and five or six feet square at the
base. The rounded cupola was, perhaps, thirty feet across. This they
told me was called “Rustom’s Throne.”
We then went to see the caves, which were near. They opened on the face
of the mountain. The largest--used then as a storehouse for grain--had
an entrance level with the ground, and a larger opening some twenty
feet higher up. It was, therefore, perfectly light inside. The roof
was domed and ornamented in the middle with a huge sunflower, treated
decoratively. The same style of decoration was repeated on the walls.
The other caves were smaller and dark.
I made sketches of the caves, and of Rustom’s Throne.
The next morning His Highness sent for me to see the Governor of
Haibuk, who had been wounded some time before by a bullet through
the roof of his mouth and upper jaw. After the removal of pieces of
necrosed bone, I suggested that a gold plate should be fitted into the
roof of the mouth. His Highness said there was a man in Kabul who had
been taught by an English dentist, Mr. O’Meara, how to take the model
of the mouth in wax: he could make a suitable plate, and, if necessary,
fix on artificial teeth. I was about to retire then, but His Highness
invited me to stay and drink tea, and a chair was placed for me near
him. He said he should much like to see my sketch-book, as he had heard
I had made a drawing of Rustom’s Throne. The Armenian at once galloped
off to my tent to fetch it. His Highness was much amused at some of
the sketches, particularly of one of the Armenian where he lay on the
ground in front of the fire--I had drawn it one evening in Mazar. He
said he looked as though he were--to put it mildly--suffering from
alcoholic intoxication.
As the Armenian was a Christian, and therefore not forbidden to drink
alcohol, this mild joke amused everybody except the Armenian, and the
more ashamed and angry he looked, the more they laughed. Of the other
sketches His Highness recognized whom they were meant for: but those
of Rustom’s Throne, the caves, and the sketch of the Khulm Pass, His
Highness admired so exceedingly, that I had to cut them out of the book
at once and give them to him. That is the reason I have to describe
Rustom’s Throne from memory.
His Highness then showed me a block of very beautiful clear ice, which
he said had been obtained from a cavern near Haibuk. He asked me to
take the block away and test its purity.
There was another Durbar on July 1st, and by this time the “microbes”
had got firm hold of me. I went to the Durbar. His Highness had heard
that I was ill, and I told him I had not with me the medicine I wished
to take. His Highness asked, Would I take native medicine if he
prescribed it? I said I should be most grateful to His Highness if he
would honour me so far. His Highness gave some directions to a Hakim,
who presently brought a small jar. The Amîr told me it contained a
medicine he was himself taking. With a little silver spoon he took some
dark-looking confection out of the jar, made a bolus of it, and gave
it to me. It tasted hot and very nice. There was no more in the pot,
and he sent the Hakim away to make some fresh. It was then that my mind
became troubled within me, for I knew the Hakim loved me not.
[Sidenote: The Amîr’s Courtesy.]
Presently the jar was brought back, and as they were about to give
it me, His Highness asked for it. He scooped a little out with the
spoon, and was raising it to his lips, when the Hakim stopped him and
whispered in his ear. The Amîr turned and looked at him, and the Hakim
hurried away with a very red face. By-and-bye he returned with the jar.
Again the Amîr took it, and, looking at me, he raised a spoonful to
his lips and swallowed it. He then gave the jar into the hands of the
Armenian, who immediately brought it to me.
One need not live in the East to understand the courtesy and kindness
of the Amîr’s action; but to appreciate fully the honour he did me, one
must be conversant with Oriental customs. To taste a medicine before
handing it to the patient is the duty of an Oriental physician when
he is attending the King. I was a servant--but also a stranger and a
guest--and the Amîr treated me as though I had been a Prince.
I cannot say whether the medicine would have cured me or not, for in
two days’ time we had to be on the march again: which was bad for me.
Then came a time, the details of which I do not care to recall too
vividly to my mind, for the “microbes” were just as venomous and wicked
as if they had been Hindustani Interpreters at the Afghan Court, and
that is saying much.
Instead of being in bed, I had to jog along on horseback half the day.
Instead of a sick man’s diet, I got a little cold meat and bread when
and how I could; sometimes after a fast of ten or eleven hours. Under
these circumstances, of what use could the Amîr’s or anyone else’s
medicine be?
The first day’s march was very beautiful: by the banks of a river which
ran through cultivated valleys and ravines: and here and there were
cascades. At the end of the march I was faint, and the Armenian rushed
off to the medical stores for some brandy. He then sent a report in
to the Amîr, and the next day His Highness kindly sent me his Shikari
elephant. Riding the elephant was much easier work than horse riding: I
could take a supply of suitable food, and I picked up again. We started
at four in the morning, before the others: for an elephant goes slowly,
and cavalry and baggage-horses shy, and then on the mountains, or in a
crowd, accidents happen.
I was rocked along through gorges and valleys and villages. In a
village, if a wall were in the way, the elephant kicked it over with
his foot, and walked across the garden or orchard, as the case might
be. We started at two the next morning, for the road was hilly. The
cavalry horses were still tethered in line, and, as we passed them,
they struggled and pulled against the foot-ropes to escape the awful
creature. It was moonlight, and the deep shadows and gleaming rocks
and peaks were the reality of Doré’s fantastic ideas. When we camped,
patients were brought to me from the villages as well as from the army:
one peasant who had brought a sick child presented me with a lamb.
The day after--Sunday--we had to make a long detour to avoid a gorge
that was too narrow for the elephant to get through.
On Monday morning I turned out at half-past four. It felt bitterly
cold, and I put on an ulster. We waited awhile, but no elephant turned
up. Some said he was ill with fever; others said the Sultana had sent
for him. They therefore saddled the black pony and I mounted.
[Sidenote: Dangerous Passes.]
We had such awful mountain passes to traverse that the camels and
pack-horses were compelled to go another and much longer road. One path
I remember on the side of a mountain: it was about five feet wide: in
one place it had crumbled away, and was hardly two feet wide, with a
precipice going sheer down. The path went steeply up and steeply down,
and was covered with little loose stones. It was no good trying to
ride it, for on account of the loose pebbles, a horse could not climb
it with a man on his back. I got off, put the bridle over my arm, and,
scotching my feet on firmer pieces of rock, managed to get up, the
horse scrambling after me. Though I was ill and weak, I could not help
a burst of laughter at the Armenian as he crawled up on all fours.
On Tuesday, at ten a.m., we reached Kamard or Shush-Bûrjah, and my tent
was put up in an orchard. I lay under a walnut-tree all day and saw
patients. We stayed here three days, and His Highness held a Durbar. I
went, and His Highness told me about the source of a river there: how
it came from a tunnel at the foot of the mountain, and the water was
hot; and how it rendered the valley warm in the winter. I had lunch
with His Highness, and then went to attend to a man with a broken thigh.
On the Friday, we started again and crossed that awful mountain, the
“Tooth-breaker,” Dandan Shikan. I found that the road had been greatly
improved since I was last there. As it was, however, there were a great
many accidents. We went on to Saighan, and they brought one old fellow
of seventy to me, the uncle of the Chief Secretary, or Dabier-ul-Mulk.
His horse had slipped sideways on Dandan Shikan, and he had broken
his right arm just below the shoulder and his right thigh just above
the knee. I put him up in splints, and he was carried the rest of the
journey in a sort of cradle slung on a camel; another injured man being
on the other side. The old man quite recovered.
We camped one day at Akrab-abad, and though it was the middle of July,
the night was excessively cold. The winter there is bitter, hence the
name--Akrab meaning a scorpion. It is about ten thousand feet above the
sea.
We reached the western extremity of the Bamian Valley, and His
Highness’s chief cook had a row with mine. Between the two I received
some beef-tea that was sour. The Hakim Abdur Rashid, having been
sent by His Highness to enquire how I was, the Armenian, with much
vigour and energy, detailed the iniquities of the cooks. The matter
was reported to His Highness: he sent for the cooks and informed
them that if I did not recover he would blow them to pieces from the
cannon’s mouth. My cook bolted before we reached Kabul. I suppose his
“prognosis” of the case was unsatisfactory. I don’t know where he went
to, and I did not see him again till I was better.
[Sidenote: The Camp of the Camels.]
We rode through the Bamian Valley and passed the colossal Figures,
the Caves, the ancient Cities, and the modern fortified Villages. It
was very beautiful, and I really fancied I was better. There were
cornfields, beanfields, grass, trees, and river.
The soldiers camped at the end of the valley, beyond Zohak-i-Marhan,
where it is narrow. There were some camels camped here also, and
their weird moans and bubbling cries echoing back from the rocks were
horrible to hear. They sounded like the hopeless cries of the damned:
at least, I thought so--I was evidently morbid.
Here a soldier of the Amîr’s bodyguard quarrelled with a comrade and
killed him. I don’t know if he were hanged.
I saw a little brown spaniel leading a camel along by a rope. I
really do not know whether a dog is “unclean” or not, but the Afghans
occasionally, though rarely, make pets of them. They more often make
pets of partridges--a speckled bird, with a curious rippling cry--and
train them to fight. I have often seen a bird trotting along after his
master: it looks very odd.
We went through the ravine where the water dashes down and enters a
tunnel in the rock. Further on, a camel in the crush was pushed over
the edge and fell with his load down the ravine. Its young one sprang
after it. The Amîr passing some time afterwards with his guard, halted
to look at the place. The horse of one of the guard was frightened,
and backed away from the precipice: the man, incensed, cut it violently
with the cruel doubled-lashed Afghan whip; the horse gave a bound
forward, and he and his rider disappeared over the edge.
From here the road led over high mountains, and it was very cold and
rainy. I had to have occasional doses of brandy from the medical stores
in order to keep going, and at one place His Highness, when he arrived,
was kind enough to stop at my tent to enquire how I was. The next day,
he sent his palanquin to me, and I was borne along on the shoulders of
four sturdy Afghans. I was not a heavy burden, unfortunately, and they
hurried along up hill and down dale, over rocks and through defiles at
a pace that was to me, in my feebleness, terrifying.
We camped at Gardandiwal. This was the occasion I referred to some way
back, on which I gave a banquet to a dozen men--the relays of palanquin
bearers--which cost me rather less than sixpence a head. I ought to say
that the men refused at first, lest the fact might reach His Highness’s
ears and displease him.
Here His Highness sent me some specimens to test for coal. I am not a
geologist, but, as far as I could judge, from my rough tests, there
was, in the specimens he sent me, some coal and a good deal of stone.
After this I became very ill, and His Highness sent several times
to enquire how I was. One day he sent for the Armenian and gave him
directions as to the diet I should have. He hoped I should be better
on the third day from then, as he wished me to ride into Kabul with
him. He said that brandy was not good for me, as it tended to produce
congestion of the liver.
The next day we arrived at Kalai Kasi, within a few miles of Kabul,
and Mr. Pyne and the two other English engineers rode out from Kabul
to welcome His Highness. Afterwards they came to my tent. I was very
pleased to see them. They were the first English I had seen since
Captain Griesbach left Mazar, more than a year before. They were very
jolly, but their vigorous energy was, to a poor debilitated mortal,
rather overpowering. I remember Pyne enquired why I sat on the ground:
I explained that I had no chair, it was broken. He also asked why I did
not have my hair cut: I told him there was no barber, and that we had
been on the march a month and a half. After dinner they rode back with
a guard to Kabul.
[Sidenote: Kindness of the Amîr.]
Early the next morning His Highness held a Durbar, and at five o’clock
I girded up my loins, mounted a horse, and rode to His Highness’s
quarters. Outside the khirgar, or wigwam, where His Highness slept,
there was erected a large red and white awning. Under this, in the
shade, were several chairs and two or three portable tables covered
with fruit and flowers. Several people, Officers and Courtiers, were
sitting there, and I joined them. Soon, we heard that His Highness had
risen, and I was sent for into the khirgar. His Highness was sitting on
the couch, and on a little table by him were some biscuits and fruit,
and a cup of tea. He enquired very kindly after my health, suggesting
various remedies, and gave me advice as regards diet. He would not
hear of my riding on horseback into Kabul, but said I must be carried
in the palanquin. He said many kind things, and finally gave me
“Rûkhsat,” or permission to depart, for I was feeble. I returned to the
tent till we were ready to start.
The lanes, cornfields, fruit trees, and general freshness and greenness
of the suburbs of Kabul reminded me of England, and were most grateful
to the eye after the dusty barrenness of Mazar.
Presently we turned off from the Kabul road; and some way off I saw a
hill with crowds of people on it. There were rows of spectators on each
side of the road leading to it. Evidently the grand reception was not
to be in the town. I had hoped to get away somewhere and rest.
I became conscious that I was not shaven, and that my collar was an old
one and frayed. I had one, among my much-tattered linen--the Afghan
washermen dash your linen on a stone to wash it, and starch it with
flour--I had one, carefully saved for this very event, but, alas! it
was in a portmanteau!
The Armenian said, “Sir, you not care it. Highness know you ill. Other
men, who is!”
There was no help for it, and we reached the top of the hill. Here,
under a large awning, was a circle of Orientals, in their robes and
turbans, seated on the ground. They were the Maleks and Chiefs from the
Kabul province. At one side of the circle seated on chairs were His
Highness’s two eldest sons, the Princes Habibullah and Nasrullah. I got
out of the palanquin and walked feebly into the middle of the circle
and bowed to the Princes.
They enquired politely after my health, and Prince Habibullah, turning
to the Armenian, said in Persian, “He looks very ill, what is the
matter?”
[Sidenote: The “High Garden.”]
Then he gave orders for me to be taken to the “Baghi Buland,” or “High
Garden,” on a hill close by. Accordingly I was carried there. This was
where the reception of His Highness was to take place.
[Sidenote: The Reception.]
There was a temporary pavilion erected, gaily adorned with hangings of
crimson and white, and with large bouquets of flowers. It was furnished
with carpets, couches, tables, and chairs. There was a part raised
some three steps, which commanded a view from the window of a little
artificial waterfall, a fountain, trees, and the lovely Baghi Shah
Valley. This valley lies outside Kabul, just north of the Chahar Bagh
Valley, and separated from it by the Asmai Mountains.
A few people were collected in the Pavilion, and the Armenian brought
a chair for me. I knew no one, and felt rather out of it. Presently
Malek, the Amîr’s favourite Page, entered, and everyone stood to
receive him. He took no notice of anyone, but rushed up to me and
enquired how I was. At once the manner of those in the Pavilion
altered. When a European in Kabul has become of interest to the Amîr,
every one bows the knee--metaphorically speaking--and he has a good
time. But once let His Highness’s interest wane, and, as it struck me
then, the said European would be likely to have a very middling time.
A crowd began to collect on the Baghi Buland Hill, some entering the
Pavilion.
By-and-bye there was a rattle of kettledrums, a confused murmur of
many voices--but no cheering as in England--and the Amîr approached,
riding on horseback. There was a great deal of bustle, and suddenly
the two Princes appeared just outside the Pavilion. The Amîr, having
reached the top of the hill, dismounted: the crowd opened, and the two
Princes advancing, knelt and kissed His Highness’s feet. He raised each
one and kissed him on the forehead. The Amîr then entered the Pavilion;
walking with a stick. I took off my solar helmet and bowed with the
rest, and His Highness went up the steps to the raised part of the
hall. The Armenian whispered--
“Follow Highness.”
The Amîr took his seat upon a couch near a large window: in front of
him was a small table with some lovely roses on it.
The Courtiers, the more important Chiefs and I, were standing near. His
Highness caught sight of me almost directly, and most kindly ordered a
chair to be placed in a particular spot near the couch, to the right,
and a little behind where he sat.
Then a salute of several guns was fired: the vibration of the air
making the Pavilion shake, we adjourned temporarily to another room.
On our return Mr. Pyne and the two other Engineers arrived. Pyne looked
very smart in a European frock-coat, with a flower in his button-hole:
the two other Englishmen were neatly dressed in corduroy riding-suits
and long boots.
The Amîr shook hands with Mr. Pyne, spoke to him for a few moments, and
then chairs were placed for them near mine.
About midday I began to feel dreadfully tired, and as some people had
already taken their departure, I turned round and asked Pyne if he
cared to go then.
He said that the Prince had given orders that we were to wait till the
roads were clear, and I waited a little longer. Presently, as I began
to feel giddy, I said to the Armenian--
“I am going.”
He said: “Shahzada Sahib said, a little you stop till----”
“Can’t help it,” I said.
I stood up, stepped to the Amîr’s couch and bowed.
“Rûkhsat?” said His Highness. “Are you going?”
“Bali, Sahib,” I said. “Yes, sir.”
His Highness kindly said, “Bisyar-khôb. Ba aman-i-Khuda.” “Very well.
Good-bye.”
I bowed and retired.
Outside the Pavilion I got into the palanquin and was carried to Pyne’s
room at the workshops.
I found him there: he had left soon after I had, and, galloping into
Kabul by another road, had arrived before me.
He said I looked ill at the Durbar, and he made me drink a tumblerful
of sparkling hock at once. I stayed with him a fortnight, till my house
was ready. He was exceedingly hospitable, and with well meant, but
somewhat mistaken kindness, forced upon me whisky, beer, hock, and all
sorts of unsuitable food. He tried to brighten me up by taking me about
the workshops and showing me what progress had been made since I had
left Kabul, and in the evening he told me yarns and stories without
number. Once or twice it was almost too much, and I became giddy and
faint. He was very kind, but I was thankful when I got to my house and
could lie down.
With proper diet and medicine I began to improve, but it was months
before I quite recovered.
[Illustration]