A week after this, July 4th, was the Festival of Îd, and in the morning I rode with the Armenian to Paghman to salaam His Highness. The other Englishmen followed later in the day. We arrived about eleven a.m. The review of troops and prayers were finished, and His Highness had just taken his seat in the Durbar Hall. I was admitted at once into the presence, and bowing said, through the Armenian, that I wished His Highness all happiness. A chair was then ordered to be placed for me in a bay window: it was not so near His Highness as usual, and I was wondering why, when the Armenian whispered—

“It is a Durbar of Chiefs and Maleks.”

Presently the hall began to fill, but His Highness allowed no one to be placed between himself and me, and even ordered a vase of flowers on the table in front of him to be moved so that he could see me distinctly.

The visitors were Army Officers and Chiefs from all parts of the country; Turkomans, Hazaras, and Afghans. I rather wished myself out of it, fearing that my visit had been inopportune.

At the end of the room in an arm-chair by an open window sat His Highness. Outside were the guard and a crowd of some hundreds of people. In a chair on the AmÎr’s left, and at some little distance, sat Prince Habibullah: he was attired in a scarlet uniform with plumed helmet. Everyone else sat on the ground. On His Highness’s right were Prince Nasrullah, Sirdar Usuf, the AmÎr’s uncle, and the British Agent: then came the principal military officers; and all round the room the Chiefs and Maleks.

Seeing the British Agent I was relieved, feeling sure that, after all, my visit was not an intrusion. I could not but admire His Highness’s tact in the way in which, having allowed me to be present unofficially in a State Durbar, he considered the European feeling of dignity in allowing me a chair with no one between himself and me; and considered also the jealous pride of the Afghans in placing me in the window, and, as it were, outside the circle.

His Highness addressed his audience for some little time, chiefly in Pushtu but partly in Persian. It did not concern me, and I paid no attention. Glancing out of the window where I was sitting I saw one of His Highness’s guard stationed there with fixed bayonet. As he caught my eye he salaamed and smiled. I could not think at first who he was: then I remembered I had attended him in Turkestan for double pneumonia when he was very dangerously ill. He had recovered, and I saw no more of him till this day: he had grown so plump that at first I did not recognize him.

When the talking was over sweetmeats were brought, and His Highness sent me a plateful from his table. Outside were bands of music: at one time a native band with flageolets and drums was playing, then would follow a brass band, afterwards the bagpipes playing Scotch tunes. In the Hall at the lower end were dancing boys, singers, and musicians. These continued their performances during lunch, which was brought in at three o’clock. For me there was a slight innovation. His Highness ordered a dinner-napkin to be placed on the little table in front of me. The waiter did not quite understand the management of it, for he insisted upon one edge of it being put on the table under the plate and the other on my knees: finally, however, I was allowed to have it my own way, chiefly by the Armenian’s instrumentality: learning all about these things was part of his education in England.

After dinner came fruit—cherries and mulberries, and finally cigarettes and tea. Then I asked permission to withdraw and came away.

In August the cholera, which had returned to Kabul, began again to attain serious proportions. I had drawn up with some care a Paper on the precautions to be adopted to prevent a return of the disease. I was perforce compelled to allow the Hindustani Interpreter—the Gnat—to take possession of it for the purpose of translation. I need scarcely say that I never saw or heard anything of the paper afterwards. The Armenian at this time was very busily employed in translating for some others of the Englishmen, for the supply of Interpreters was lamentably small. In the Hospitals I, of course, could manage without one, but for conversations with His Highness or for the translation of writings my knowledge of the language was inadequate.

Though none of the English were seized with cholera, the climate of Kabul affected the health of most of them deleteriously. Some had fever severely: others bowel complaints; and the gardener, Mr. Wild, a Yorkshireman, who had been working very hard in the sun, laying out gardens and digging, went down with heat apoplexy. He was dangerously ill, and I attended him; but some interesting and engaging scoundrel spread the report that he was shirking his work and lying intoxicated in his room. As he received an order to leave the service I wrote to His Highness detailing the facts of the case. His Highness at once desired Wild to be brought to Paghman, as soon as his condition would allow. When he was taken there His Highness most kindly kept him in the cool air of the mountains until he recovered. After this Wild, by my advice, wore a turban in the sun instead of a solar topee. A pith topee would have been a sufficient protection, but there was none to be got in the bazaars, and sending money to Peshawur for anything was a procedure of doubtful success.

One day a soldier on horseback arrived at my house to call me to visit Prince Nasrullah who, he said, was ill. His Highness at this time was living in a bungalow set in a beautiful garden on the slope near the Paghman Mountains. I started off immediately. After a nine or ten miles’ ride we reached Prince Nasrullah’s bungalow, and at once I was shown into the room where the Prince was sitting. It appeared to be full of people—Officers, Hakims, Pages, and Chamberlains.

After the usual salutations a chair was placed for me, and tea and cigarettes brought. The Prince held a polite conversation with me for some little while, and I began to wonder if I had not misunderstood the messenger, when he said His Highness was ill. Presently, however, the Prince explained that he was suffering great pain. I enquired where the pain seized him. He said that a worm had partly eaten one of his teeth, and this caused him pain. I thought it quite likely that this would be painful, and asked, might I examine the tooth. An arm-chair was placed in a convenient position facing the window, and His Highness seated himself, politely opening his mouth to allow me every facility in examining the worm-eaten tooth.

After a careful examination I gave my opinion that the tooth should be removed. The Prince at once consented to the operation, and a soldier was sent galloping off to the Kabul Hospital for the case of tooth instruments. The Prince conversed with me cheerfully for a time while I smoked. By-and-bye he seemed to become thoughtful, and presently he said he was a little doubtful about the advisability of removing the tooth: perhaps the application of a suitable medicine might relieve the pain and check the disease. I explained that the immediate pain might indeed be removed by a medicine, but that it would probably return, and that the disease had made such progress that the tooth would, if left, be a source of constant annoyance. His Highness was silent for a time, but presently he expressed his doubts as to the possibility of extracting the tooth; so far as he could judge there was nothing but a shell left: was it not exceedingly likely that the shell would crush up and leave him in a worse plight than he at present was? I said that a calamity of that nature was of course possible, as he, in his wisdom had foreseen, but that my hopes and prayers were that it might not occur. By-and-bye the messenger arrived with the tooth-case. The Prince again weighed the matter carefully, and he desired the two chief Hakims in the room to consult and give their opinion. I do not know what they said but they looked unutterably wise.

After a considerable amount of discussion, in which I took no part, the Prince suddenly decided that the operation should be performed. He seated himself in the chair: a Page at my request held His Highness’s astrakhan hat: another held the chillimchi or spittoon: and a third a silver cup containing water.

I suggested that His Highness should seize the arms of the chair and hold them tight; then he opened his mouth. An attendant handed me the forceps, which had been warmed: I fitted them round the neck of the offending member and pushed them well home: a twist of the wrist and the tooth was out. His Highness made no remark during the operation, but at the critical moment he patted his feet on the ground. He was, I believe, exceedingly gratified that the operation was successful, for not only did he present me with a suit of clothes, which unfortunately were much too small for me, but he politely said that the operation had not hurt him.

Glancing up as soon as it was over, I saw that the soldiers of the bodyguard had formed themselves in double line from the window down the garden, and were forming an interested row of spectators. Immediately afterwards several of them begged me to perform a similar operation upon them. I glanced at the Prince for permission, which he kindly granted: then, seating the men on the ground one after another, I removed such teeth as they desired. One reservation alone I made: when a tooth had not the slightest appearance of disease—not a speck—I refused to extract it, at any rate that day. The unfortunates who could not have their teeth out seemed quite hurt: why should I draw other men’s teeth and not theirs? I promised, therefore, to do them this favour as soon as they could prove to my satisfaction that their teeth were “worm-eaten.”

One day, a fortnight or so after this, I went with Mr. Pyne, Mr. Collins, and some others of the English, to Paghman to hold a discussion before the AmÎr concerning two of the Englishmen who had allowed their disgust of Oriental life to influence their conduct, and being ennuiÉ, had for some time indulged unduly in alcoholic stimulant. His Highness treated the whole matter as a joke. One of the workmen being unnecessary was allowed to resign. The other was to stay. As the latter was exceedingly well acquainted with the manufacture of war material His Highness decided that if he would work two days in the week he might employ the other five as best pleased him. This decision had a beneficial effect upon the man, and he worked well; previously his excesses had had a very serious effect upon his nervous system.

During the conversation that followed the discussion Mr. Collins happened to mention the game of chess. His Highness said he should much like to see the game as played by the English. Mr. Collins at once challenged me. It was years since I had played regularly, and the last game I had had was in Turkestan, when my opponent, after beating me ignominiously, had finally given me a game out of courtesy: I never was any good at chess. I said I would play Mr. Collins if His Highness would give me the benefit of his advice.

The AmÎr said certainly he would do so. Accordingly the chessmen were brought. A table was placed in front of His Highness, Mr. Collins sat one side and I the other, and the game began.

I soon found I was no match for Mr. Collins, and I relied almost entirely upon the AmÎr. I wish I could remember the details of the game, but I simply made, mechanically, the moves that the AmÎr directed. We won the game. Mr. Collins said His Highness played a bold game with his Castles, and that he would take a good second class among the chess players of London.

After that Collins played one of the Courtiers and beat him. This old man was reckoned to be one of the best players next to His Highness, and the AmÎr made such unmerciful fun of him for losing, that the old man wanted to go out and hang himself. However, he was not allowed to do so, for His Highness challenged him to a game and beat him. Mr. Pyne and the others not interested in chess had departed. For us who stayed, dinner was served, and we left the Palace at two in the morning.

Meanwhile the Armenian had been for some little while preparing winter quarters for me in the west wing of my house, which faced south and was protected from the winds.

I had told him that there was no need to make these elaborate preparations, as I was going away on leave for the winter. He answered—

“Per-haps! Per-haps not! I make him ready.”

As the Autumn was drawing to a close I began to wonder whether leave would indeed be granted to me for the winter according to His Highness’s words. I wrote, therefore, to enquire. His Highness answered that in view of the fact that the cholera, though doubtless dying out, was still lurking in the town, he should wish me to remain in the country till the following spring.

I was glad of my Winter Quarters.

Work at the Hospitals went on as usual until November, when I was sent for to Paghman to paint the portrait of Prince Mahomed Omer.

Cholera had died out, but small-pox invaded Kabul, and in its train came erysipelas.

In Paghman I was located in a khirgar—the Turkoman wigwam I have described. It was also my studio, the light being obtained by moving a flap of canvas from the top.

Before I commenced the portrait Her Highness the Sultana sent me a present of sweets and cashmere embroidery, and when all my preparations were complete the little Prince, accompanied by his tutor and Page boys, came for the first sitting. He asked me to make a sketch of him on paper before I began the painting. I did so, and handed it to him. It seemed to amuse him highly, for he threw back his head and laughed heartily. Whether the act was a childlike mimicry of his father or not I cannot say, but it reminded me most strongly of the AmÎr. After that when he came for a sitting he was always merry and bright, and I managed to get a really expressive likeness of him. He was dressed in a gold-embroidered military tunic, hussar fashion, trousers, high boots, and a fur busby. On the breast was an emerald surrounded by pearls. The belt was profusely adorned with diamonds, as was his watch chain; and on the busby was a large emerald. His sword hilt and scabbard were of gold. He was seated in a tall chair, made especially for him; over the knees, as the weather was cold, was a beautiful fur rug. On one side of the chair stood his “Commander-in-Chief,” Mahomed Omer, son of Perwana Khan, and on the other a Page boy—a slave taken in war, who had a singularly pretty face. This boy, however, had not the intelligent expression of the Prince, nor had his eyes the brilliancy of his master’s. It was simply a pretty, weary, mournful face, and therefore in the picture it did not take from the beauty of the Prince’s face. The “Commander-in-Chief,” though intelligent looking, was plain, so that in looking at the picture the eye was caught immediately by the Prince’s face.

As there were three portraits instead of one to paint I was some time at Paghman, and became skilled in the art of eating pilau and kourma with my fingers, and eschewing forks and knives, for the Sultana had insisted upon my being the guest of the Prince. I brought with me, beside my guard, the Priest Compounder, who knew some English, and only one servant, an Afghan. Accommodation for servants was limited in Paghman, and though one could allow an Afghan servant to sleep on the ground in one’s tent, one could not have a Hindustani in the same position. In the evenings, after dinner, the Prince’s “Commander-in-Chief,” little Mahomed Omer, came in. He sat on the ground and chattered away, eating grapes while I smoked and aired my Persian.

While the painting was in progress Mr. Pyne visited Paghman to hold an interview with the AmÎr; he came and stayed with me. It was snowing when he arrived, and I found he had fever. As he sat shivering, unable to get warm, I recommended the “sandali,” which he had never yet tried. The charcoal was brought all glowing in the brazier; the wooden framework and the quilt were arranged, and we sat on the carpet amidst the large pillows, drawing the quilt over our knees. There is no need to be shaking with fever in order to appreciate a sandali: nevertheless, when one is in that unfortunate position a sandali seems one of the wisest inventions of man. Mr. Pyne thought so at the time. I would not, however, say that a sandali is to be recommended when more sanitary means of becoming warm are to be procured. A dose or two of quinine and Mr. Pyne was soon all right.

We went for a ride the next morning up the mountain: the snow was not thick and the sun shone brightly. We reached a gorge sheltered from the wind, where we could feel the heat of the sun, and got off and smoked a cigar. I did not get much painting done while Pyne was my guest, for the spirit moved him to talk much.

In the dusk of the evening the Priests came and intoned their prayers near my wigwam. “Allah hÛ, Allah-il-Allah, RessÛl Allah!”

When the portrait was finished I sent it to Her Highness, the Sultana, for approval. She was delighted with it, but suggested that I had perhaps made the cheeks too pink: accordingly, I altered it. She wished me to show it to His Highness, the AmÎr.

The next day I took it to the Palace. The only available Interpreter being the “Gnat,” this gentleman took the opportunity to prevent—as I afterwards found—the report of my arrival from being taken to the AmÎr, and I was kept waiting some hours, till at last I got up and was leaving the Palace when I saw His Highness descending the stairs. I waited, therefore, until he approached, and then bowed. He seemed surprised to see me and asked how I was. I showed him the picture which my servant was carrying. He was very pleased with it, and said it was faultless: he added—and this pleased the Sultana exceedingly—that the portrait of the little Prince was exactly like that I had painted of himself, except that it was smaller.

The Priest Compounder, who was with me, mentioned that I had been waiting some hours at the Palace. His Highness seemed both surprised and annoyed. He told me that no report had been made to him of my arrival, and that there was no reason for my having been kept waiting.

His Highness’s words concerning the painting were, of course, reported at once to the Sultana, and she sent word to me that she would be pleased if I remained at Paghman a day or two longer: the AmÎr, herself, and the Prince would then be departing for Kabul, and she desired me to accompany the Prince. I was myself to take charge of the picture on the journey, and when she summoned me I was to formally deliver it at the Harem Serai. Accordingly, I waited.

On the morning of our departure six or seven bullocks were slaughtered, by order of the Sultana, and presented to the Paghmanis. The manner of slaughtering was peculiar. The butcher seized the nostril and one horn of the victim, twisted the head sideways over the neck and threw the animal down. Putting his knee on the horn to extend the neck, he drew his short knife and cut the throat: the inevitable “Allah akbar” being shouted at the same time by the crowd. It was a striking but disagreeable sight to see the blood hiss on to the snow: it was so unpleasantly suggestive of what might happen to oneself under certain circumstances. The hopeless position of the creatures as they stood “waiting to be murdered,” rather shook my nerves. However, it taught me one thing—that my health was more affected by the climate than I liked to think: for on my arrival in Kabul, finding there were two delicate eye operations waiting for me to perform, I felt I must postpone them for a day or two.

As the whole Court was moving to Kabul the traffic was enormous. We had first snow, then sleet, then rain, and the road became a quagmire: mud—we on horseback were plastered from head to foot. The Royal family drove in carriages, and those of the Courtiers who possessed them, in buggies and tongas. There were several blocks on the road, but when we got through them we galloped. The picture was put in a palanquin of the Sultana’s under the charge of my Afghan servant. The man was greatly amused at a beggar woman by the wayside addressing him as “Bibi Sahib,” and asking alms.

For some little time I had been rather worried about money matters, for although acting upon the AmÎr’s suggestion, I had in August sent a firman for six months’ pay to my bankers in Bombay, with orders to collect from the native Agent in that town; up to now, December, none of it had been paid. I wished, therefore, to see His Highness and inform him.

The Armenian being engaged in interpreting for the other Europeans, I had no one to make an appointment for me with His Highness except the Hindustani Gnat. A day or two after our arrival in Kabul this man called at my house, informing me that His Highness would see me that evening. Knowing that the truth was to him as naught, I doubted the accuracy of this information. I was correct in my supposition: he had made no appointment. However, it was quite as well I did not see His Highness, for a day or two afterwards I received a letter from my bankers saying that at last the Agent had disgorged: they were able, therefore, to transmit the money to London. I sent no more firmans to the Agent.

Just before Christmas I was sent for by His Highness. I managed to obtain possession of the Armenian, and taking him with me I went to the Erg Palace. It was on a Friday, and there was no one at the Palace except the AmÎr’s uncle, Sirdar Usuf, and the ordinary attendants. His Highness was seated at the sandali. He was not dressed in European costume, but was wearing a silken robe and a small white turban. I was afraid His Highness was unwell and had sent for me on that account. Happily it was not so. After tea had been drank he told me that in the Palace when prayer-time came many people prayed, and that there were hanging on the walls pictures representing people—the English Houses of Parliament, and also the portrait of himself that I had painted in Turkestan. In the Mahomedan religion, he explained, it is not allowed to pray in any room where there is a pictorial representation of a man. He said that he wished, therefore, to hang these pictures in another room, and he desired me to paint three large pictures of scenery to take their place: the pictures were to be painted on leather, so that they might last as long as the Palace itself!

He desired me, for the second time, to paint a full-length portrait of himself, and expressed his intention of sending to me four of the most accomplished artists that the country could produce in order that I might give them instruction in portrait-painting. Also, he informed me that my leave of absence would be granted before “Nau RÔz,” March 21st.

It occurred to me at the time that with all these commissions on hand, Nau RÔz and after Nau RÔz would see me still in Kabul.

I do not know what emotion my face expressed, but as I sat holding my turban on my knee, His Highness suddenly desired me to bring him the turban that he might examine it. It was a good “Lungi,” of fawn-coloured Cashmere, embroidered on both sides, which had been given me by a patient, one of the Court Pages. His Highness said he was wearing a better kind that he had lately sent for from Cashmere, and he directed a Page to bring it. It certainly was better than mine; a white Cashmere delicately embroidered with silk. It was wound in the AmÎr’s careless fashion round a Turkestan cap of bright colours. I was admiring it when, to my surprise, His Highness directed me to put it on.

After a moment’s hesitation at being covered in his presence I did so, and His Highness desired me to keep it.

Gratification and pride were now the dominant sensations; disappointment vanished into the haze of the past. No longer was “leave of absence” remembered. What was “Nau RÔz” or “after Nau RÔz?” Was I not wearing the King’s turban! The congratulations that everyone offered when I withdrew from the Presence were received with a lofty dignity suitable to the situation.

I had only a strip or so of canvas, and I painted a head on leather to show His Highness how difficult it was, for me at any rate, to get anything like an effect on that material, and I pointed out the fact that a skin of leather large enough for a landscape was almost impossible to obtain. A message, therefore, was sent to Bombay for canvas and paints.

On Christmas Day, Mr. Pyne and the other English called upon Mr. Collins and myself, who were living in the town, and after a ride in the afternoon, we all dined together in the Workshops, drinking the health of the Queen, standing. A congratulatory message also was sent to Her Majesty from the Kabul Colony, to be telegraphed from Peshawur.