In the summer of 1895 the Afghan prince, Shahzada Nasrullah Khan, was the guest of the English Government for three or four months, and he had been entertained and fêted and generally made much of while his visit lasted, and his return journey had been made pleasant by a stay in Paris, Rome, and Naples before going on by sea to Karachi and thence by rail to Chaman, the railway terminus close to the Afghan frontier on the Quetta side of Beloochistan.

The Shahzada was met and entertained at the railway terminus by General Sir J. Brown, commanding the Quetta district, with other officers and officials, and afterwards rode on to his camp across the border, where he was joined by a multitude of troops and followers, who had been sent by the Amir to accompany him on his further journey.

I had accompanied the Shahzada, as he was commonly called in England, on his return from London, and rode with him through Kandahar to Kabul, and when he set out from his camp early the following day I formed one of his retinue. It was near the end of October and late in the season, but the day we started was a very hot one, and grew hotter as we went on, and the multitude of horsemen who accompanied the prince caused clouds of dust to rise as they rode along and made it still more sultry and oppressive.

The country looked very desolate and inhospitable, for on all sides stretched a large undulating sandy plain, bare of vegetation, save a few tufts of coarse grass here and there, and rocks jutting out of the plain in places, while in the distance were bare foot-hills and barren rocky mountains, and over all the sun threw its burning rays until the sand and rocks seemed to give out as much heat as the sun itself. There is no made road from Chaman to Kandahar, nothing but a track worn into the earth by the passing of caravans from time immemorial, and at places on the side of the track were the bones of horses and camels whitening where they had fallen. The prince and his retinue, however, rode along cheerfully, for they had returned safely through all the dangers of foreign travel and had many tales of strange lands and stranger customs to tell their relations and friends when they got to Kabul, and had brought with them finely wrought produce of these lands to make presents of and to trade with and reap much profit.

In front of the Shahzada were two long lines, wide apart, of Usbeg Lancers. At an interval on either side of him, and following the Usbegs, were two other lines of the bodyguard, the Rissalah Shahi, armed with sword and carbine, and better uniformed than the others, and following these were troops of sowars who were roughly dressed and wild-looking, though not so wild-looking as the Usbegs with their sheepskin busbies, the hair of which falls about their faces and makes them look wilder than nature made them. The sowars’ mode of keeping line would, perhaps, have offended a military eye, but they nevertheless looked very serviceable in case of need.

Before all rode a man with a native drum strapped to the saddle in front of him, which he kept continuously tapping in time to his horse’s hoof beats; this is the custom used to signify the approach of a royal personage when travelling.

Beside the prince ran a man carrying a huge gold embroidered umbrella, as a protection from the scorching rays of the sun, and around him were syces and foot guards, while a little in front were other syces leading spare horses. Behind rode attendants and the Khans and chiefs who were accompanying him, and I rode with these and knew what it was like to ride in a cloud of dust which caked the perspiration on one’s face and was so dense that the horses stumbled over stones in the road they were unable to see.

Along the track, and stretching away into the distance, both before and behind, were strings of camels and pack-horses, each with its own dust-cloud and accompanied by their drivers, who were on foot. These carried the tents and baggage of this small army, and with each string of animals was a sowar, or trooper, whose duty it was to see that there was no undue delay on the road and to ensure the full load reaching the next camp, for most of the pack animals were the property of men who make a trade of carrying goods, and these men are not averse to making a little extra profit when opportunity offers.

It was with a feeling of thankfulness that I heard the prince order a halt for tea soon after midday, for my mouth was parched with heat and dust. We all dismounted by the side of a hillock, and seated ourselves on the stones and rocks round about while tea was prepared; excepting, of course, attendants and soldiers, who are not supposed to feel fatigue. After drinking tea the prince offered me a cigarette, and I may mention that he showed me many courtesies and kindnesses on the journey and ordered fur-lined overcoats to be made for me by his tailors, saying that English coats were unsuitable for the extreme cold we should afterwards experience, and I appreciated his thoughtfulness in this very thoroughly afterwards. The Shahzada was a different being in his own country, not at all like the Afghan Prince in London.

After a short rest the march was resumed and continued until camp was reached. The afternoon’s ride was more pleasant, for the heat was less, and, the track running over harder ground, the dust was not quite so much in evidence.

At all of the villages we passed the inhabitants were crowded outside the walls to see the Shahzada and his people, while the head men of the village stood in front of the others, and, as the prince came up, took off their turbans with both hands, and prayed for him and his safe journey. Outside most of the villages long poles were fixed in the ground on either side of the track, with a string stretching across from top to top, and from the centre of the string the Koran was suspended, wrapped in cloths. The prince and his followers, when passing under the Koran, stretched up their right hands and touched it, and then with that hand touched each of their eyes, their mouths, and hearts, saying a short prayer the while. After this the Shahzada would stop for a time and talk with the head men of the village, and then ride on. Two or three bands accompanied the party, and on the prince’s arrival at each camping-ground they played the royal salute as he rode in (this was also done when leaving). At each camp also a large shamiana was ready, and there he would hold durbar, which all the chief men of the country round about attended, either to salaam the prince or to receive payment for the provisions and forage supplied to the men sent on in advance to prepare everything against his coming.

At many of the places stopped at were men who had come to meet those friends or relations who had been to England, but it was at Chaman that the Afghans first got news of their relatives. When first meeting a friend they embrace three times, first to the right, then to the left, and then to the right again, after which streams of question and answer follow. It was touching to see the eager questions after the triple embrace, and to see some turn away crying, possibly at the news of the death of a relative, or it may have been that they were overcome at meeting with friend or relative.

While superintending the unloading of baggage from the goods train at the Chaman terminus, before crossing the frontier, I noticed the Kotwal, one of the prince’s staff who accompanied him on his visit to England, sitting on some boxes and looking very glum. He knew sufficient Urdu to carry on a conversation, and so I asked what troubled him. He sighed, and said that he had just heard that his brother in Kabul had been made prisoner, and now his own enemies—may their fathers be cursed!—had taken advantage of his brother’s downfall to poison the Amir’s mind against him, and he was told that if he returned to Kabul it was probable the Amir would kill him. So he had thought it over, and concluded that it was better he should go back to Karachi and stay there with some friends until he could return with safety, and he asked me to help him in getting away by the next train.

To help in the running away of one of the chief officials of Kabul would have been a bad introduction for me to the Amir, and it seemed hard not to help a man to escape death, as he said, and he knew the Amir’s ways; so, saying I would think it over and make inquiries about the trains, I left him, wondering how best to arrange the difficulty. I ascertained that there would be no train before nightfall, and at that time we were due at the Afghan camp across the frontier, so, as there was no necessity to take immediate steps in the matter, I went on with the work in hand.

At lunch time the English-speaking native, who had charge of the catering and other arrangements in connection with the prince’s reception at Chaman, came to tell me that the Kotwal had also approached him about running away, and what should he do? I recognized that there was no help at hand, and so I impressed on him that whatever was done nothing must be known that we were concerned in the man’s running away, pointing out the bad impression it would make on the Amir, and that the Government would no doubt institute inquiries and we should be blamed. So he went off, and came back with the Kotwal, and for a long time talked to him in Persian, of which I had little knowledge then, and, I believe, persuaded him that it was better that he should go away that day to the Afghan camp, and get back during the night, or the following day, and he would leave one of his men to see him to Karachi. However, when I rode away that evening the Kotwal rode with me, and we reached the Afghan camp together, and he was one of the prince’s retinue when we set out next day on the road to Kandahar.

Afterwards, although the prince received orders in Kandahar that he should be brought back to Kabul in chains, the Kotwal made his peace with the Amir, and continued for some time in the enjoyment of his position, which included torturing and killing people in horrible ways, and the acquisition of wealth by bribery and extortion, so that when he died of cholera some eight years later he was possessed of several lakhs of rupees. The day he died, I overheard some soldiers gloating over the fact that that night his soul would be roasting in hell, and I fancy some few thousand others derived consolation from the same thought, and knowing what I did of him myself, the fate the soldiers assigned him seemed not an improbable one.

According to the Afghan theory, the soul of a man is judged the night of the day he is buried, hence the delight of the soldiers over what would take place that night after the judgment had been pronounced.

The camp at each stopping-place looked rather imposing, and gave the impression of an immense gathering, as, besides the prince with his retinue and soldiers, were the men in charge of the baggage animals, who of themselves formed a rather large company, for the camels alone numbered half a thousand, so that the tents, horses, and camels covered a large tract of ground. After nightfall all the fires at which the men were cooking their food showed up clearly, and each fire had its quota of men busily superintending the pots and cooking arrangements generally, while others were standing or squatting round, watching and waiting the moment when, all being ready, they might fall to.

The noises of the camp at night were numerous, though there was never any rowdiness, for an Afghan crowd is the most orderly and quiet of any country, but there were the voices of officers giving orders, the squeals of horses fighting with one that had got loose (and there always seemed a loose horse about at night), the gurgling of the camels, the challenges of soldiers on guard in guttural Afghani, and the striking of gongs to announce the hour.

I remember one night, or rather early morning, when the guard over the gong had evidently been asleep and waked up suddenly, hearing sixteen strokes of the gong in rapid succession, although it was only half-past one. Whether this was the result of nightmare, or whether the man thought a little extra activity would better demonstrate his extreme wakefulness, I cannot say.

We were four days reaching Kandahar, for only on one day was the march at all a long one, the rest being what they term “King’s marches,” in contradistinction to “Caravan marches.” King’s marches being short ones on account of the number of men, etc., to move. The distance from one camp to another is usually expressed as so many hours’ journey. The horses on a journey go at a uniform pace, something between a quick walk and a jog-trot to which they are trained, and at which pace they can, when in condition, cover fifty to sixty miles in a day, though it is not customary to push them to that extent except in cases of necessity. Taking into consideration the mountainous description of country usually met with, the absence of proper roads, and the size of the horses (which average thirteen to fourteen hands), this is a fair distance.

They have a unit of distance in Afghanistan called a “kro,” which is said by some to be equivalent to one and a half English miles, but as there are no recognized number of “guz” (yards) to the “kro” it assumes varying dimensions, according to individual taste. I once received a firman from the Amir, through the prince, to make a perambulating instrument for measuring roads which was to show distances on the index in guz and kro, and I wrote the prince to let me know the number of guz in a kro that I might arrange the necessary clockwork. He replied that he had made inquiries, and the number given by different persons so varied that he had written the Amir to fix a standard; but the Amir fell ill just then, and the matter remained in abeyance, and the same indefiniteness still exists. The present Amir has distances measured in yards and miles.

Once when travelling from Kabul to Peshawar, and after being seven or eight hours in the saddle, I asked the sowars with me how far it was to the village by which we intended camping. One usually is rather interested in knowing how much farther one has to go after several hours’ riding. He told me that it was between one to two kro ahead, but we did not get to camp until after three hours’ further riding. So I henceforth made it a custom to inquire the distance in hours, and found it less disappointing.

On arriving within a few miles of Kandahar, the prince was met by the General commanding that district and the principal officers, who dismounted at a distance from him, and came up with heads uncovered. When they reached him they kissed his foot, and then, taking his hand between both of theirs, placed it on each eye in turn, and kissed it also; this being the Afghan custom when acknowledging their chief or swearing allegiance. Near the city the troops of the garrison were drawn up, together with the artillery, and the latter fired the royal salute as the prince rode up. The prince then inspected the troops, and addressed a few words to them, after which, followed by all the officers and officials, he repaired to the musjid for prayers, while I rode on to the city to find the quarters which had been allotted to me.

The road viâ Kandahar is not one which is often used when travelling from India to Kabul, the road from Peshawar through the Khyber Pass being the direct route, and the journey by that road occupies about eight days when travelling with little luggage and doing forced marches, while the route viâ Kandahar and Ghazni takes three or four weeks. There are no roads for wheeled traffic, nor are there any railways, and one must either ride or be carried in a sort of sedan chair, suspended from the backs of two horses. The Afghan rulers are greatly prejudiced against railways, and if one but mentions such a scheme ulterior designs are at once suspected. Yet a proper scheme of railways to open up the country would make it rich and prosperous, and do away with the present universal poverty and misery.

The Shahzada on leaving Kabul for England had been sent viâ Peshawar by the late Amir, and arrangements had been made for him to return viâ Kandahar, in order that he might see as much as possible of the country. Since he came from Russia, a little boy of nine, he had never been more than a few miles out of Kabul, for the Amir did not encourage the members of his family to travel unless of necessity. The Amir also wished him to stop in Kandahar on his return journey to inquire into matters concerning its government, because for many years there had been complaints from the people of the oppression of the governors and absence of justice.

I was told, while in Kandahar, that the Amir made the previous governors, when accepting office, sign a paper providing that, should they rob or oppress either rich or poor, they consented to be hanged, and it was significant that the last three or four governors had been hanged. The man who was governor when the prince arrived suddenly fell ill, and died a few days afterwards, and there were not wanting those who suggested self-destruction in order to escape worse happening.

Kandahar is situated in the middle of a fertile plain, or rather the plain would be fertile if irrigated and cultivated as it could be; but when I was there, there was little cultivation or signs of it, although the rivers carry plenty of water. On account of the small amount of rainfall in Afghanistan irrigation is necessary in order to make the land yield crops; and in some cases, to provide water for land which cannot be irrigated direct from the river, the people have sunk a series of wells leading from water-bearing strata to the land requiring irrigation, connecting the wells by underground ducts; the water from the last well being raised to the surface by means of a Persian wheel. This is a laborious process, and as the connecting ducts are not arched or protected in any way, the supply is frequently stopped by the earth falling in, and crops are ruined before the supply can be set going again.

I was asked to propose an irrigation scheme by which the whole of the surrounding land could be put under cultivation, and gave my opinion; but, although the work was feasible, it involved too great an outlay for the exchequer, and the matter was dropped.

The city is not a large one, and is surrounded by a high wall, which, together with most of the buildings, is built of mud and stone, or mud and sun-dried brick. The whole place is in a most tumble-down condition, having been partially destroyed several times during the wars of the past twenty years and not rebuilt. It gave one the idea that the inhabitants were in the utmost poverty, and although some of the better houses and musjids are built of small burnt bricks and lime, yet in all is the same appearance of dilapidation which made one think that the people were humbled and lacked the heart to put their city to rights. Some of the streets in the bazars are raised above the surrounding land, so that one looks down into the tumble-down shops, where copper, tin, leather, and other trades are carried on in a small way.

One thing that struck me particularly when riding through the bazars was the small size of the donkeys, which are little bigger than a large mastiff. They are employed in carrying loads, and I saw many with such huge piles of grass on them that only the donkey’s hoofs and a small portion of his head was visible. Ripe cases for the intervention of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.

I was lodged in a small house, built in the form of a cross, and consisting of one room only, branching out on four sides, this form being, I believe, copied from Russia. It was situated in the garden adjoining the house occupied by the prince, and as the weather was getting cold at night it was a decided improvement on a tent, although the architect had forgotten to include a fireplace. From the roof of the house I got a good view over most of the city, and could also see the minarets of the musjid in which is a sanctuary where any man, whatsoever his crime, is safe when once inside. There used to be similar sanctuaries in some old English churches.

The late Amir once told me a story of a moullah in Kandahar who had dubbed him a “Kafir” (infidel) when inciting the people to rise against him. They had to make him out a “Kafir,” as otherwise it is against the religious law for the people to rise against the King, who is also their spiritual head. When the ensuing rebellion had been put down the Amir was told that this man had taken refuge in the sanctuary. Then the Amir, turning the tables on the man, said that the sanctuary was for Mussulmans only, not for such infidels as men who rose against their king; and, taking his sword, he went to the musjid and killed the man in the very place. It was little that stopped Abdur Rahman in the pursuit of vengeance.