After the death of Amir Abdur Rahman, a good deal of lawlessness prevailed in the bazars, which was principally due to soldiers interfering with most of the people they met, for the men of the army looked upon themselves, and not altogether without reason, as the cocks of the wall, since the Amir’s death, and of course, did their best to show that they were not subject to any authority. I had, therefore, to send one of my guards with the servant, who went to the bazar daily to make purchases, to prevent the man being molested, and to ensure his returning with all the articles he had bought.

Shopkeepers also took advantage of the unsettled nature of affairs to give short weight, and in other ways increase their profits, no doubt thinking it best to make all they could before the disturbances, which all expected, set in. One shopkeeper took half the matches from each box in the packets of twelve, and sold them in this half-filled condition, in order to reap a double profit. One of these packets being sold to one of my servants, and the fraud detected, the soldier who accompanied the servant knocked two of the shopkeeper’s teeth out, whereupon the shopkeeper made complaint to the Kotwal, who reported the case to the soldier’s commanding officer, and the affair ended in my being several rupees out of pocket in obtaining the soldier’s acquittal. Bribery and corruption, of course; but I could not let the man suffer for his over-zealous protection of my interests. He was a simple Afghan soldier, and such men are usually very straightforward, and only think of carrying out the orders given them. I once sent a soldier of this description to tell one of the workshop foremen to come to my office, and on the foreman impudently sending back word to the effect that he was busy and would come later, I told the soldier to bring him by the beard if he did not come on being told to do so. The soldier went off, and presently returned dragging the man by the beard, the two together making sufficient noise on their progress to attract a crowd of workmen, who followed to see the end of the matter. Although I had not intended my instructions to be literally carried out, the effect on the rest of the workmen was that I had no occasion to send twice for another man.

In the bazars it is not an easy matter to get good meat, the sheep killed for the supply of meat being generally the large Turkestani sort, the flesh of which is tough, and, being also rather flavourless, is poor eating. For this reason I bought my own, the small Hazara ones, which much resemble the Welsh sheep, and having got together a flock of fifty to sixty ewes, I sent them to Hazara, where pasturage is cheap and plentiful, and had others bred from them there. The young lambs were sent down to me from time to time in batches of eight or ten, to enable me to feed them up ready for killing, and in this way I got very good mutton, and each sheep killed cost less than a couple of shillings on an average, but I paid nothing for pasturage and no wages, the man in charge taking the sheep’s milk, from which he made cheese, in lieu of pay. I also bred fowl, duck, geese, turkey, and guinea-fowl, and as food for them is cheap, they were inexpensive, and the fowl provided me with all the fresh eggs I wanted. I kept a couple of cows for milk, and the supply of occasional veal, when their calves grew up large enough to kill. The cows of the country seldom give a good supply of milk for long, so that I found it necessary to keep two to ensure a constant supply of milk sufficient for daily use, and for making butter. Flour used to be cheap, but the price for several years past has been going up steadily, so that it is now three times the price it was five years ago, and when I left Kabul, it was selling at six pounds per rupee (a little less than three half-pence per pound).

Tea, coffee, tinned provisions, tobacco, wines, etc., must be got up from India and usually it takes about three months from the time ordered before they are received. The reason it takes so long to get up provisions is due to the karaya-kash people (carriers for hire), first in the difficulty in persuading one of them to undertake to carry the goods from Peshawar to Kabul, and next in delaying the goods on the road for many weeks. It very frequently happens that a man carrying for hire gets a load in Peshawar for all his camels, horses, etc., part of the load being booked to Jelalabad, which is half way to Kabul, and the other part of the load to Kabul. On the man reaching Jelalabad he delivers the goods which are consigned there, and leaving there those goods which are to go further on, he returns to Peshawar for another load, and he continues going backwards and forwards until the goods for Kabul are sufficient for all his animals and then he goes on to that place. As the journey to Jelalabad from Peshawar takes five or six days, the various trips to and fro until the man is ready to go on to Kabul, take time, and if one happens to be out of tobacco, or anything else one wants, this prolonged waiting for fresh supplies is very irritating, particularly when one has been advised by letter from Peshawar that the goods left there some weeks before, but when the goods at last arrive one is so pleased in getting them, that all former irritation is forgotten. It often happens that goods are spoilt or go bad on the road on account of the boxes being left in the serais (caravan yards) at different places exposed to the weather, but there is no remedy, and one has to take one’s chance.

When the tribes about the Khyber Pass rose and necessitated the Tirah campaign, all traffic between Kabul and India was stopped, and we in Kabul had to go without those things which go to make life comfortable. There was nothing to drink, not even tea or coffee, and nothing to smoke, and so it continued for some months. I can go without most things when necessary, and not grieve overmuch, although I would rather necessity did not demand such abstinence, but when there is no tobacco or cigarettes, then matters seem to be in need of speedy readjustment, and I shall always remember the time when the Khyber Pass was closed. The Amir and the princes were always very good in letting me have things I wanted when I ran short, but on that occasion they ran short themselves.

The Amir and his sons were also very good in sending me occasional presents of game and fruit, the latter being sent them from other places before they were to be obtained in Kabul, and the strawberries they used to send me in the spring before the fruit in Kabul was ripe was a favour I very much appreciated. In the spring there was, as a rule, a scarcity of vegetables, the last year’s supply being finished and the new year’s not yet in, and I often had to go without potatoes for some weeks, and that is a dish I think most people would not care to be without at dinner; however, when I became accustomed to the place I made arrangements which obviated going short in that respect.

During the famine of 1903, when so many thousands died of starvation, most of the bazar provisions were very scarce, and some things were not to be had at any price. Flour was unobtainable in the market, and I had to buy a supply of wheat for myself and the servants from the Government, and have it ground. The Government opened a depôt and sold a stipulated quantity every day to the people, as there was none to be had elsewhere, and it is the custom of the Government to keep full granaries in case of emergency. The struggles of the people to be first in getting to the depôt, in order to obtain a share of the wheat before the daily quantity allowed for sale was disposed of, were so great, and the crush so dense, that many, principally women, were killed, by being knocked off their feet and trampled to death. The distress among the poorer classes was particularly great. Parents, who had sold all there was in the house that could be sold to get money for food, had to watch their children crying of hunger, and daily getting weaker and thinner until at last they died, while they themselves, if they lived, did so only because they had more vitality and were stronger, and not because they ate food themselves and gave none to their children.

Most of the men under me in the workshops were starving, and sometimes a man would faint while working, and on my asking what ailed him, I would gather that he had perhaps eaten about two ounces of bread in as many days. It was impossible to help all, but those of my workmen, whom I knew to be helpless with hunger, I gave food to once a day, and in many cases it was all they got until the next day. I saw one man hiding some of the bread I had given him under his coat, and the man, being run down to skin and bone for want of food, I was surprised at his not eating it all, but he told me that he had a child at home starving, and there was nothing in the house to sell for food. He said, also, that the mother of the child, and other women in the house, had nothing to eat, but that appeared to be a matter of little concern, and it was the condition of the child only that worried him. No one puts much value on a woman in Kabul, and it is not considered right for a man to cry for the death of a woman, even when it is his mother or sister who dies, but they cry and make enough fuss over the death of any male relative.

Another day a foreman workman came to me, and, without the usual salaams, told me he was a Mussulman, and had seldom asked a favour of his co-religionists, and never of a Feringhee; but he had three little children starving at home, and they were dying slowly, and his fellows would not give him anything, so he had determined to cut the throats of his children that night and put them out of their suffering, and then kill himself, but while saying his midday prayers it had been put into his mind to go first to the Feringhee, and so he had come as soon as his prayers were finished. His manner of speech was not polite, and very much removed from that of others who begged for help from me, and who usually addressed me as “Presence;” but I knew the man to be one of the religious bigots who abound in the country, to whom an infidel is lower than an animal. However, I gave him three rupees without remark of any kind, and the man, without thanking me, but simply looking dully at the money, went away. Three rupees go a long way in Kabul, although they amount to less than half a crown. I thought no more of the matter until two days after, when the man came again, and, taking off his turban, prayed for me; this is the highest compliment and favour a Mussulman can pay an unbeliever. He then told me I had saved the life of his children, and his too, for he had been mad with grief and suffering when he first came, and he said further that he had been told much against Englishmen, but he would always pray now that one of them might become a Mussulman, and so go to heaven when he died.

On top of the famine that year came cholera, and the mortality was very high, for the people were weak with want of food, and their systems out of order through eating any rubbish they could get to keep off the cravings of hunger. Daily the roads leading to the burial grounds streamed with people carrying their dead, and many, I knew, who came to tell me of a mutual acquaintance whom they had taken for burial that day, were themselves carried to the same place the next day, or a day later. The cholera spread among all classes, and penetrated even to the harems of the princes, Sirdar Nasrullah Khan’s favourite wife dying of it, and among others the Amir’s favourite slave boy was carried off. Several of the highest officials also got the disease, and died of it.

The members of the royal family are particularly afraid of cholera, that and earthquakes being their chief dread; and during other outbreaks the late Amir and his family, with all their officials and attendants, posted off helter-skelter from the city to Paghman the moment cholera made its appearance. When the cholera epidemic of 1900 occurred, three years before the one mentioned above, the late Amir and all his people went off at once, and the carts carrying luggage, tents, etc., people on horseback galloping, carriages driving along furiously, and the servants and soldiers on foot also hurrying on, gave to the scene all the appearance of a disorderly flight. The English (Mrs. Daly and myself were the only Europeans there at the time) were left behind to get on as best we could, and she spent the next four months in the treatment of cholera cases, whereby she saved many lives, while I occupied myself with a series of experiments in smokeless powder-making, in which I was fortunately successful, chiefly because I was left all this time untroubled and alone.

When the 1903 outbreak occurred, the present Amir, following his father’s example, sent off furniture, carpets, etc., to Paghman at once, intending to follow them himself the next day; but in the mean time the Governor of the city, hearing of his intention, went to him and frankly told him that if he left the city, the prevailing dissatisfaction was so great that the soldiers and people would rise, and he would never be able to return to it. So the Amir, who accepted the Governor’s view of the situation, had to remain in his palace in Arak, and here he confined himself to two rooms, and allowed only some half-dozen favourite courtiers and attendants to see him, but he would not allow those who saw him to leave the palace, for fear of bringing the infection back with them. Sirdar Nasrullah Khan, who was, of course, obliged to remain in his city palace since the Amir did not go away into the country, spent most of his time on his prayer-carpet, so I was told by those who were with him; and when his favourite wife got cholera and died, he was described as being almost mad with grief at her loss and fear of the disease attacking him next.

The prince’s fear, as also that of the Amir, had a reason, however, which intensified their usual dread of the disease, and it came about in this way. One of the chief and most influential of the moullahs in the country started on the Haj (holy pilgrimage to Mecca) in the beginning of that year, and while going down through India, on his way to the sea-port where he intended embarking for Medina, he heard of a holy man who preached the second coming of Christ—one who said that he, like another St. John, had been sent on to prepare the way, and make Christ’s coming known. The moullah went to see this man, of whom many and wonderful things were told by the natives about, and the words of the self-styled prophet were so convincing that the moullah was converted, and came to believe in the man being what he said he was. One day, it being known that the moullah was going on the Haj, the “prophet” took him into an inner room, and there, the moullah afterwards stated, the two together visited Mecca, and he saw himself one of the multitude of pilgrims at the holy shrine, and visited the inner court, and saw all there was to see, and said all the prayers prescribed in the different places before reaching the inner sanctuary. Whether mesmeric, or other influence, would account for this hallucination of the moullah is a matter for conjecture, but even death could not shake the moullah’s belief that he had been to Mecca, and that his guide was a true prophet. The Mohammedans believe that the religion preached by various prophets (Moses, Christ, Mohammed) are the true religions for the time being, and that God inspires a new religion as it becomes necessary to the advanced needs of mankind, and that, therefore, the Jewish religion was the true religion until Christ came, and the religion Christ preached was the true religion until Mohammed came. This new man, therefore, if his preaching was listened to, would upset Mohammedanism, and as he preached that Mussulmans must regard Christians as brothers, and not as infidels, this would render useless the Amir’s chief weapon, Jihad (religious war), in case of English or Russian aggression. So the Amir, when he heard of all this, sent word to the moullah to return, and the moullah did so, preaching the new religion as he came, and as soon as he was well within the boundaries of the country, he was made prisoner and brought to Kabul. Here he was examined by the Amir, but the Amir could find in the moullah’s clever replies nothing against the true religion which would make him an infidel, and therefore worthy of death, for a Mussulman, according to the Koran, who becomes an apostate, must be stoned to death. He was then sent for examination to Sirdar Nasrullah Khan, who is regarded as more than a moullah in knowledge of his religion, but the prince could not convict the man out of his own mouth, and so a jury of twelve of the most learned moullahs was convened, and even their examination of the accused could elicit nothing on which the man might be killed, and they reported this to the Amir. But the Amir said the man must be convicted, and so he was again sent to the moullahs, who were told that they must sign a paper, saying the man was an apostate and worthy of death. Again the majority of the moullahs made affirmation that he was innocent of anything against their religion, but two of the moullahs, who were friends of Sirdar Nasrullah Khan, and had been talked over by him, gave their verdict for death, and on the finding of these two moullahs the man was condemned by the Amir and stoned to death. Before being led away from the Amir’s presence to be killed, the moullah prophesied that a great calamity would overtake the country, and that both the Amir and the Sirdar would suffer. About nine o’clock at night the day the moullah was killed, a great storm of wind suddenly rose and raged with violence for half an hour, and then stopped as suddenly as it came. Such a wind at night was altogether unusual, so the people said that this was the passing of the soul of the moullah. Then cholera came, and, according to former outbreaks, another visitation was not due for four years to come, and this was also regarded as part of the fulfilment of the moullah’s prophecy, and hence the great fear of the Amir and the prince, who thought they saw in all this their own death, and it accounts also for the prince losing control of himself when his favourite wife died. The murdered moullah was a man with a large and powerful following, and the two moullahs who gave the verdict for his death lived in constant fear of the retaliation of his followers, who had sworn to avenge him. One of them got cholera, and almost died of it.

During the summer months I used to put a tent on the roof and sleep there. It was much fresher and cooler than in the house, for the nights in summer are hot, and there is little or no wind. As the roofs of the houses are flat and walled round they are generally used by the people for such purposes and to sit on in the evenings, and also the women use them for exercise and to get fresh air, as they are not allowed to go outside, and very few houses, and those only of the wealthy, have gardens attached to them which can be given for the sole use of women, because gardens to be of use to women must be walled round so high that they cannot be overlooked by neighbouring houses. It is also for this reason that houses are built in the form of a square with an inner courtyard where the women are free from the observation of neighbours; but the courtyards are usually small and dirty, and the smell from rotten refuse thrown there makes them unfit for places of recreation. During the spring, on my return in the evening from the workshops or elsewhere—for working hours are from early morning till evening—I used to spend a good deal of time on the roof attending to seedlings which were planted in boxes and kept up there, where they had less chance of being uprooted, until they were ready for transplanting; and I put the seeds in at the earliest possible time so that I might get salads and other things without having to wait until they were in the market. On the roof, too, I sometimes amused myself, and any amusement was welcome, in flying different sorts of kites, and in this I was soon imitated by those living near, but the house being close to the pass between the Sher Darwasa and Asman Heights I lost several of them through the sudden gusts of wind which sweep along the gorge there.

For those who like such things Kabul affords a good field for the collection of old curios, swords, knives, shields, matchlocks, chain armour, etc., some of which are extremely ancient, and from the Arabic on many of the swords one might imagine them having been used against the Crusaders of old. Coins which date back to the time when Alexander the Great left his governors at different places on the route when he set out to conquer India can also be obtained, but a good knowledge of such is required, as they are counterfeited and sold there. Hindoos, of whom there are a few hundred resident in Kabul, usually have the stocks of curios, but they are afraid to bring them themselves to the Europeans because of the sepoys, who make them disgorge a good deal of their profits on leaving the house, and they cannot very well refuse to give anything when the sepoys threaten to make up a case against them, and report that they were carrying information to the Feringhee, as I have overheard them say.

On great festivals it was usual for the Europeans to attend durbar to salaam the Amir and afterwards do the same to the princes. On these occasions the durbar wore a different aspect to what it did at other times, for now all present, including the Amir, were merry and joking, and pleasantry was the order of the day. Some of the officials and others would be sitting on the floor playing chess, and the Amir would bet on one or the other of the players, and occasionally give advice as to the move to be made, for the Amir was a great chess player, and there were few in his court who could compete with him. The jester of the court would be in great form, and raise many a laugh with story and joke. It was on these occasions that the late Amir would mostly indulge in reminiscences of his career and talk of the places and men he had seen in Russia. One, who was a Russian merchant, the Amir always spoke of with feeling when relating the good turns this merchant had done him, for the merchant had on one occasion saved him from a good deal of embarrassment by a timely loan of money. The Amir once told me that he had worked for a watchmaker for some time in order to learn that trade, having little else to do to amuse himself, and he related various amusing stories of the clockmaker’s wife, who seemed to have ruled her husband in a very strict manner; but the Amir’s conception of humour was too broad for the stories to bear repetition.

The present Amir’s court on days of festival lacks the noise and fun of his father’s, for at all times he exacts the strictest order and decorum from those in his court, and he never unbends except to those of his relations with whom he is intimate, or unless there are but a few present. He was much more approachable before he became Amir, but he was never fond of noisy merriment, and cared little for the rude jokes of the court jesters. He is fond of that which will amuse him in a quiet manner and help time to pass, and is always interested in the magic lantern he has, and when that is being worked he will look for hours at the different pictures projected on to the screen.

Europeans in Kabul are not looked upon as amenable to the laws which govern the people there, but should they do anything which seriously violated any one of the laws which are common to all countries they would no doubt be deported to India, but so far no European resident has offended against any such law. The late Amir was chary of doing anything which another country could call in question, and once when an Afghan petitioned him to help him recover his dues from the Indian Government for supplies made to their army during the English occupation of 1879-81, the Amir thought the best way to do justice to the man, without committing himself to any decision, was to appoint six persons chosen from among the leading merchants in Kabul, together with myself, to go into the case, but the man’s papers, which were in English, showed nothing but a full settlement of all dues. Another case in which I was appointed as one of the jury was that of a Continental merchant who came to Kabul to settle his affairs, who claimed the full amount of salary specified in the agreement, alleging that although the amount of business done was less than that agreed upon in the contract, which made the salary contingent upon a fixed amount of business done annually, he was not responsible for the falling off, for the business entrusted to him was less than agreed upon, and the annual salary stated in the agreement should therefore be paid him, as he had done the best he could, and had always been faithful to his contract and to the Government. Letters which he had written to one of the officials, and which had been stopped in the post and opened by the Amir’s order, were, however, produced, which showed that he, in writing at least, thought little of the Amir’s promises, and the letters also gave his opinion of the Amir in a rather bald manner. The Amir therefore contended that, on the face of those letters, he could not entrust business to a man who doubted his promises and had a far from exalted opinion of himself, and so my presence, together with Mrs. Daly’s, was considered necessary on the jury, more to shame the merchant before other Europeans than anything else. I must, however, say that the letters showed that the merchant had thoroughly grasped the character of the Amir’s officials.

In the matter of letters, it used to be a very common thing for letters to the English in Kabul to be stopped and read by the appointed Government spies, and generally, after being read, they were not sent on—an Englishman’s private letter being a trivial matter in the eyes of the officials concerned. Opening letters to and from the English in Kabul was, of course, to find out if there was any spying or reporting going on between them and the Indian Government, but in the present Amir’s time this was stopped a good deal, and more of the letters sent to and from reached their destination safely. Post letters, however, are never looked upon as very sacred among the Afghans, and before all post letters were enclosed in a bag and sealed, with a list of the letters enclosed, and orders had been given to the postmasters that the letters of one post were not to exceed a certain weight, the postrunners used to open the parcel of letters and throw many down the mountain-side, in order to lighten the burden they carried.

I was told of a case which concerned an important letter. It was from the British Agent to his Government, and the Amir wanted it, so orders were given and the post-carrier at a certain place on the road was killed, and all the letters he was carrying were taken back to Kabul. The murder and theft was blamed upon the tribes of the district where the crime was committed, and this seems to show that neither letters nor life are held sacred. However, the Amir got the letter he wanted, and nothing was said that could reflect upon his integrity.

Letters are carried by men on five-mile relays, laid between Kabul and Peshawar; each man running (not walking) backwards and forwards over his own five miles, carrying outward letters one way and in-coming letters the other. In this way letters are carried between the two places in three days. The postage is fourpence per miskal, which is about one-sixth of an ounce, and stamps have to be affixed to the letters; but the outgoing letters have the stamps taken off them by the Amir’s postmaster in Peshawar before being put in the Indian post. Afghanistan is not in the postal union, and, therefore, letters to Kabul must have the postage paid on them in Peshawar or else be paid by the addressee.

When magazines and periodicals are sent to Kabul the postage on them is a large item, and I once noticed that the postage I paid on a small magazine between Peshawar and Kabul (some two hundred miles) was three rupees, while the postage on the same from England to Peshawar was a penny. Letters sent from Kabul to India have to be addressed in Persian, and Indian stamps must be put on the envelopes besides paying the postage in Afghanistan.

One person in Kabul with whom English people are greatly brought in contact is the interpreter. There are several interpreters, but only one who is appointed to interpret between the Amir and the English residents, and this post is one which involves a good deal of work, for the man, in addition to interpreting whenever the Amir or the princes require his services, has to translate all letters from the English to the Amir, and vice versâ. The Government correspondence with other countries is translated by others, who are specially appointed for the post, and they are not encouraged to mix with the English people in Kabul. To be an interpreter a man must be quick at catching all inflections of meaning in the two languages, and must be ever ready to put in a word of his own in case he fails to hear something which is said on either side, for the Amir is impatient of having anything repeated. He must also be, in a measure, conversant with the subject under discussion, as otherwise technical words would bring him to a standstill, and very often such English words require several sentences of Persian to explain them, as they have no equivalents except those adopted from other languages of late years. But particularly must he be able to interpret all that is said quickly and without mistake, otherwise he will be put aside and another man taken on in his place, and to him this means disgrace for always.