Chapter XIX: 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.