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Title: The Gates of India
       Being an Historical Narrative

Author: Thomas Holdich

Release Date: June 17, 2013 [EBook #42970]

Language: English

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Transcriber's Note:

  Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
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  "Kardos" (in index) not found in text

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     MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED

     LONDON . BOMBAY . CALCUTTA
     MELBOURNE

     THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
     NEW YORK . BOSTON . CHICAGO
     ATLANTA . SAN FRANCISCO

     THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.
     TORONTO




     THE
     GATES OF INDIA
     BEING
     AN HISTORICAL NARRATIVE

     BY
     COLONEL SIR THOMAS HOLDICH
     K.C.M.G., K.C.I.E., C.B., D.Sc.

     AUTHOR OF
     'THE INDIAN BORDERLAND,' 'INDIA,' 'THE COUNTRIES OF
     THE KING'S AWARD'

     _WITH MAPS_


     MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
     ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON
     1910




PREFACE


As the world grows older and its composition both physical and human
becomes subject to ever-increasing scientific investigation, the close
interdependence of its history and its geography becomes more and more
definite. It is hardly too much to say that geography has so far
shaped history that in unravelling some of the more obscure
entanglements of historical record, we may safely appeal to our modern
knowledge of the physical environment of the scene of action to decide
on the actual course of events. Oriental scholars for many years past
have been deeply interested in reshaping the map of Asia to suit their
theories of the sequence of historical action in India and on its
frontiers. They have identified the position of ancient cities in
India, sometimes with marvellous precision, and have been able to
assign definite niches in history to historical personages with whose
story it would have been most difficult to deal were it not
intertwined with marked features of geographical environment. But on
the far frontiers of India, beyond the Indus, these geographical
conditions have only been imperfectly known until recently. It is
only within the last thirty years that the geography of the hinterland
of India--Tibet, Afghanistan, and Baluchistan--have been in any sense
brought under scientific examination, and at the best such examination
has been partial and incomplete. It is unfortunate that recent years
have added nothing to our knowledge of Afghanistan, and it seems
hopeless to wait for detailed information as to some of the more
remote (and most interesting) districts of that historic country. As,
therefore, in the course of twenty years of official wanderings I have
amassed certain notes which may help to throw some light on the
ancient highways and cities of those trans-frontier regions which
contain the landward gates of India, I have thought it better to make
some use of these notes now, and to put together the various theories
that I may have formed from time to time bearing on the past history
of that country, whilst the opportunity lasts. I have endeavoured to
present my own impressions at first hand as far as possible, unbiased
by the views already expressed by far more eminent writers than
myself, believing that there is a certain value in originality. I have
also endeavoured to keep the descriptive geography of such districts
as form the theatre of historical incidents on a level with the story
itself, so that the one may illustrate the other.

Whilst investigating the methods of early explorers into the
hinterland of India it has, of course, been necessary to appeal to
the original narratives of the explorers themselves so far as
possible. Consequently I am indebted to the assistance afforded by
quite a host of authors for the basis of this compilation. And I may
briefly recount the names of those to whom I am under special
obligation. First and foremost are Mr. M'Crindle's admirable series of
handy little volumes dealing with the Greek period of Indian history,
the perusal of which first prompted an attempt to reconcile some of
the apparent discrepancies between classical story and practical
geography, with which may be included Sir A. Cunningham's _Coins of
Alexander's Successors in Kabul_. For the Arab phase of commercial
exploration I am indebted to Sir William Ouseley's translation,
_Oriental Geography of Ibn Haukel_, and the _Geographie d'Edrisi;
traduite par P. Aimedee Joubert_. For more modern records the official
reports of Burnes, Lord, and Leech on Afghanistan; Burnes' _Travels
into Bokhara, etc.; Cabul_, by the same author; _Ferrier's Caravan
Journeys_; Wood's _Journey to the Sources of the Oxus_; Moorcroft's
_Travels in the Himalayan Provinces_; Vigne's _Ghazni, Kabul, and
Afghanistan_; Henry Pottinger's _Travels in Baloochistan and Sinde_;
and last, but by no means least, Masson's _Travels in Afghanistan,
Beluchistan, the Panjab, and Kalat_, all of which have been largely
indented on. To this must be added Mr. Forrest's valuable compilation
of Bombay records. It has been indeed one of the objects of this book
to revive the records of past generations of explorers whose stories
have a deep significance even in this day, but which are apt to be
overlooked and forgotten as belonging to an ancient and superseded era
of research. Because these investigators belong to a past generation
it by no means follows that their work, their opinions, or their
deductions from original observations are as dead as they are
themselves. It is far too readily assumed that the work of the latest
explorer must necessarily supersede that of his predecessors. In the
difficult art of map compilation perhaps the most difficult problem
with which the compiler has to deal is the relative value of evidence
dating from different periods. Here, then, we have introduced a
variety of opinions and views expressed by men of many minds (but all
of one type as explorer), which may be balanced one against another
with a fair prospect of eliminating what mathematicians call the
"personal equation" and arriving at a sound "mean" value from combined
evidence. I have said they are all of one type, regarded as explorers.
There is only one word which fitly describes that type--magnificent.
We may well ask have we any explorers like them in these days? We know
well enough that we have the raw material in plenty for fashioning
them, but alas! opportunity is wanting. Exploration in these days is
becoming so professional and so scientific that modern methods hardly
admit of the dare-devil, face-to-face intermixing with savage breeds
and races that was such a distinctive feature in the work of these
heroes of an older age. We get geographical results with a rapidity
and a precision that were undreamt of in the early years (or even in
the middle) of the last century. Our instruments are incomparably
better, and our equipment is such that we can deal with the hostility
of nature in her more savage moods with comparative facility. But we
no longer live with the people about whom we set out to write
books--we don't wear their clothes, eat their food, fraternize with
them in their homes and in the field, learn their language and discuss
with them their religion and politics. And the result is that we don't
_know_ them half as well, and the ratio of our knowledge (in India at
least) is inverse to the official position towards them that we may
happen to occupy. The missionary and the police officer may know
something of the people; the high-placed political administrator knows
less (he cannot help himself), and the parliamentary demagogue knows
nothing at all. My excuse for giving so large a place to the American
explorer Masson, for instance, is that he was first in the field at a
critical period of Indian history. Apart from his extraordinary gifts
and power of absorbing and collating information, history has proved
that on the whole his judgment both as regards Afghan character and
Indian political ineptitude was essentially sound. Of course he was
not popular. He is as bitter and sarcastic in his unsparing
criticisms of local political methods in Afghanistan as he is of the
methods of the Indian Government behind them; and doubtless his
bitterness and undisguised hostility to some extent discounts the
value of his opinion. But he knew the Afghan, which we did not: and it
is most instructive to note the extraordinary divergence of opinion
that existed between him and Sir Alexander Burnes as regards some of
the most marked idiosyncrasies of Afghan character. Burnes was as
great an explorer as Masson, but whilst in Afghanistan he was the
emissary of the Indian Government, and thus it immediately became
worth while for the Afghan Sirdar to study his temper and his
weaknesses and to make the best use of both. Thus arose Burnes'
whole-hearted belief in the simplicity of Afghan methods, whilst
Masson, who was more or less behind the scenes, was in no position to
act as prompter to him. It was just preceding and during the momentous
period of the first Afghan war (1839-41) that European explorers in
Afghanistan and Baluchistan were most active. Long before then both
countries had been an open book to the Ancients, and both may be said
geographically to be an open book to us now. There are, however,
certain pages which have not yet been properly read, and something
will be said later on as to where these pages occur.




CONTENTS


                                                                  PAGE

     INTRODUCTION                                                    1


     CHAPTER I

     EARLY RELATIONS BETWEEN EAST AND WEST--GREECE AND
     PERSIA AND EARLY TRIBAL DISTRIBUTIONS ON THE INDIAN
     FRONTIER                                                       11


     CHAPTER II

     ASSYRIA AND AFGHANISTAN--ANCIENT LAND ROUTES--POSSIBLE
     SEA ROUTES                                                     39


     CHAPTER III

     GREEK EXPLORATION--ALEXANDER--MODERN BALKH--THE BALKH
     PLAIN AND BAKTRIA                                              58


     CHAPTER IV

     GREEK EXPLORATION--ALEXANDER--THE KABUL VALLEY GATES           94


     CHAPTER V

     GREEK EXPLORATION--THE WESTERN GATES                          135


     CHAPTER VI

     CHINESE EXPLORATIONS--THE GATES OF THE NORTH                  169


     CHAPTER VII

     MEDIAEVAL GEOGRAPHY--SEISTAN AND AFGHANISTAN                   190


     CHAPTER VIII

     ARAB EXPLORATION--THE GATES OF MAKRAN                         284


     CHAPTER IX

     EARLIEST ENGLISH EXPLORATION--CHRISTIE AND POTTINGER          325


     CHAPTER X

     AMERICAN EXPLORATION--MASSON--THE NEARER GATES,
     BALUCHISTAN AND AFGHANISTAN                                   344


     CHAPTER XI

     AMERICAN EXPLORATION--MASSON (_CONTINUED_)--THE NEARER
     GATES, BALUCHISTAN AND AFGHANISTAN                            390


     CHAPTER XII

     LORD AND WOOD--THE FARTHER GATES, BADAKSHAN AND THE
     OXUS                                                          411


     CHAPTER XIII

     ACROSS AFGHANISTAN TO BOKHARA--MOORCROFT                      442


     CHAPTER XIV

     ACROSS AFGHANISTAN TO BOKHARA--BURNES                         451


     CHAPTER XV

     THE GATES OF GHAZNI--VIGNE                                    462


     CHAPTER XVI

     THE GATES OF GHAZNI--BROADFOOT                                470


     CHAPTER XVII

     FRENCH EXPLORATION--FERRIER                                   476


     CHAPTER XVIII

     SUMMARY                                                       500


     INDEX                                                         531




LIST OF MAPS


                                                             FACE PAGE

     1. General Orographic Map of Afghanistan and Baluchistan,
     showing Arab trade routes (see page 190 _et seq._)
                                                   _With Introduction_

     2. Sketch of Alexander's Route through the Kabul Valley to
     India                                                          94

     3. Greek Retreat from India (_Journal of the Society of Arts_,
     April 1901)                                                   135

     4. The Gates of Makran (_Journal of the Royal Geographical
     Society_, April 1906)                                         284

     5. Sketch of the Hindu Kush Passes                            500




  [Illustration: OROGRAPHICAL MAP OF AFGHANISTAN & BALUCHISTAN
    COMPILED BY SIR THOMAS H. HOLDICH, K.C.M.G., K.C.I.E., C.B.]




INTRODUCTION


Since the gates of India have become water gates and the way to India
has been the way of the sea, very little has been known of those other
landward gates which lie to the north and west of the peninsula,
through which have poured immigrants from Asia and conquerors from the
West from time immemorial. It has taken England a long time to
rediscover them, and she is even now doubtful about their strategic
value and the possibility of keeping them closed and barred. It is
only by an examination of the historical records which concern them,
and the geographical conditions which surround them, that any clear
appreciation of their value can be attained; and it is only within the
last century that such examinations have been rendered possible by the
enterprise and activity of a race of explorers (official and
otherwise) who have risked their lives in the dangerous field of the
Indian trans-frontier. In ancient days the very first (and sometimes
the last) thing that was learned about India was the way thither from
the North. In our times the process has been reversed, and we seek
for information with our backs to the South. We have worked our way
northward, having entered India by the southern water gates, and as we
have from time to time struggled rather to remain content within
narrow borders than to push outward and forward, the drift to the
north has been very slow, and there has never been, right from the
very beginning, any strenuous haste in the expansion of commercial
interests, or any spirit of crusade in the advance of Conquest.

So late as the early years of the sixteenth century England was but a
poor country, with less inhabitants than are now crowded within the
London area. There was not much to spare, either of money or men, for
ventures which could only be regarded in those days as sheer gambling
speculations. The splendid records of a successful voyage must have
been greatly discounted by the many dismal tales of failure, and
nothing but an indomitable impulse, bred of international rivalry,
could have led the royal personages and the few wealthy citizens who
backed our earliest enterprises to open their purse-strings
sufficiently wide to find the necessary means for the equipment of a
modest little fleet of square-sailed merchant ships. National tenacity
prevailed, however, in the end. The hard-headed Islander finally
succeeded where the more impetuous Southerner failed, and England came
out finally with most of the honours of a long commercial contest. It
was in this way that we reached India, and by degrees we painted
India our own conventional colour in patches large enough to give us
the preponderating voice in her general administration. But as we
progressed northward and north-westward we realized the important fact
that India--the peninsula India--was insulated and protected by
geographical conformations which formed a natural barrier against
outside influences, almost as impassable as the sea barriers of
England. On the north-east a vast wilderness of forest-covered
mountain ranges and deep lateral valleys barred the way most
effectually against irruption from the yellow races of Asia. On the
north where the curving serrated ramparts of the north-east gave place
to the Himalayan barrier, the huge uplifted highlands of Tibet were
equally impassable to the busy pushing hordes of the Mongol; and it
was only on the extreme north-west about the hinterland of Kashmir,
and beyond the Himalayan system, that any weakness could be found in
the chain of defensive works which Nature had sent to the north of
India. Here, indeed, in the trans-Indus regions of Kashmir, sterile,
rugged, cold, and crowned with gigantic ice-clad peaks, there is a
slippery track reaching northward into the depression of Chinese
Turkestan, which for all time has been a recognised route connecting
India with High Asia. It is called the Karakoram route. Mile upon mile
a white thread of a road stretches across the stone-strewn plains,
bordered by the bones of the innumerable victims to the long fatigue
of a burdensome and ill-fed existence--the ghastly debris of former
caravans. It is perhaps the ugliest track to call a trade route in the
whole wide world. Not a tree, not a shrub, exists, not even the cold
dead beauty which a snow-sheet imparts to highland scenery, for there
is no great snowfall in the elevated spaces which back the Himalayas
and their offshoots. It is marked, too, by many a sordid tragedy of
murder and robbery, but it is nevertheless one of the northern gates
of India which we have spent much to preserve, and it does actually
serve a very important purpose in the commercial economy of India. At
least one army has traversed this route from the north with the
prospect before it of conquering Tibet; but it was a Mongol army, and
it was worsted in a most unequal contest with Nature.

India (if we include Kashmir) runs to a northern apex about the point
where, from the western extension of the giant Muztagh, the Hindu Kush
system takes off in continuation of the great Asiatic divide. Here the
Pamirs border Kashmir, and here there are also mountain ways which
have aforetime let in the irrepressible Chinaman, probably as far as
Hunza, but still a very long way from the Indian peninsula. Then the
Hindu Kush slopes off to the south-westward and becomes the divide
between Afghanistan and Kashmir for a space, till, from north of
Chitral, it continues with a sweep right into Central Afghanistan and
merges into the mountain chain which reaches to Herat. From this
point, north of Chitral, commences the true north-west barrier of
India, a barrier which includes nearly the whole width of Afghanistan
beyond the formidable wall of the trans-Indus mountains. It is here
that the gates of India are to be found, and it is with this outermost
region of India, and what lies beyond it, that this book is chiefly
concerned.

As the history of India under British occupation grew and expanded and
the painting red process gradually developed, whilst men were ever
reaching north-westward with their eyes set on these frontier hills,
the countries which lay beyond came to be regarded as the "ultima
thule" of Indian exploration, and Afghanistan and Baluchistan were
reckoned in English as the hinterland of India, only to be reached by
the efforts of English adventurers from the plains of the peninsula.
And that is the way in which those countries are still regarded. It is
Afghanistan in its relations to India, political, commercial, or
strategic, as the case may be, that fills the minds of our soldiers
and statesmen of to-day; and the way to Afghanistan is still by the
way of ships--across the ocean first, and then by climbing upward from
the plains of India to the continental plateau land of Asia. It was
not so twenty-five centuries ago. One can imagine the laughter that
would echo through the courts and palaces of Nineveh at the idea of
reaching Afghanistan by a sea route! Think of Tiglath Pilesur, the
founder of the Second Assyrian Empire, seated, curled, and anointed,
surrounded by his Court and flanked by the sculptured art of his
period (already losing some of the freshness and vigour of First
Empire design) in the pillared halls of Nineveh, and counting the
value of his Eastern satrapies in Sagartia, Ariana, and Arachosia,
with outlying provinces in Northern India, whilst meditating yet
further conquests to add to his almost illimitable Empire! No shadow
of Babylon had stretched northward then. No premonition of a yet
larger and later Empire overshadowed him or his successors,
Shalmaneser and Sargon. Northern Afghanistan was to these Assyrian
kings the dumping ground of unconsidered companies of conquered
slaves, a bourne from whence no captive was ever likely to return. No
record is left of the passing of those bands of colonists from West to
East. We can only gather from the writings of subsequent historians in
classical times that for centuries they must have drifted eastward
from Syria, Armenia, and Greece, carrying with them the rudiments of
the arts and industries of the land they had left for ever, and
providing India with the germs of an art system entirely imitative in
design, colour, and relief. The Aryan was before them in India.
Already the foundations were laid for historic dynasties, and Rajput
families were dating their origin from the sun and moon, whilst
somewhere from beneath the shadow of the Himalayas in the foothills of
Nipal was soon to arise the daystar of a new faith, a "light of Asia"
for all centuries to come.

It is impossible to set a limit to the number and variety of the
people who, in these early centuries, either migrated, or were
deported, from West to East through Persia to Northern Afghanistan, or
who drifted southwards into Baluchistan. Not until the ethnography of
these frontier lands of India is exhaustively studied shall we be able
to unravel the influence of Assyrian, Median, Persian, Arab, or Greek
migrations in the strange conglomeration of humanity which peoples
those countries. Baktra (Balkh), in Northern Afghanistan, must have
been a city of consequence in days when Nineveh was young. Farah, a
city of Arachosia in Western Afghanistan on the borders of Seistan,
must have been a centre from whence Assyrian arts and industries were
passed on to India for ages; for Farah lies directly on the route
which connects Seistan with the southern passes into the Indus valley.
The Indus itself seems to have been the boundary which limited the
efforts of migration and exploration. Beyond the Indus were deserts in
the south and wide unproductive plains of the Punjab in the north, and
it is the deserts of the world's geography which, far more than any
other feature, have always determined the extent of the human tidal
waves and influenced their direction. They are as the promontories and
capes of the world's land perimeter to the tides of the ocean. Beyond
these parched and waterless tracts, where now the maximum temperatures
of sun-heat in India are registered, were vague uncertainties and
mythical wonders, the tales of which in ancient literature are in
strange contrast to the exact information which was obtained of
geographical conditions and tribal distributions in the basins of the
Kabul or Swat rivers, or within the narrow valleys of Makran.

A recent writer (Mr. Ellsworth Huntington) has expressed in
picturesque and convincing language the nature of the relationship
which has ever existed between man and his physical environments in
Asia, and has illustrated the effect of certain pulsations of climate
in the movement of Asiatic history. The changing conditions of the
climate of High Asia, periods of desiccation and deprivation of
natural water-supply alternating with periods of cold and rainfall,
acting in slow progression through centuries and never ceasing in
their operation, have set "men in nations" moving over the face of
that continent since the beginning of time, and left a legacy of
buried history, to be unearthed by explorers of the type of Stein,
such as will eventually give us the key to many important problems in
race distribution. But more important even than climatic influence is
the direct influence of physical geography, the actual shaping of
mountain and valley, as a factor in directing the footsteps of early
migration. Nowadays men cross the seas in thousands from continent to
continent, but in the days of Egyptian and Assyrian empire it was that
straight high-road which crossed the fewest passes and tapped the best
natural resources of wood and water which was absolutely the
determining factor in the direction of the great human processions;
and although change of climate may have set the nomadic peoples of
High Asia moving with a purpose more extensive than an annual search
for pasturage, and have led to the peopling of India with successive
nations of Central Asiatic origin, it was the knowledge that by
certain routes between Mesopotamia and Northern Afghanistan lay no
inhospitable desert, and no impassable mountain barrier, that
determined the intermittent flow from the west, which received fresh
impulse with every conquest achieved, with every band of captives
available for colonizing distant satrapies. To put it shortly, there
was an easy high-road from Mesopotamia through Persia to Northern
Afghanistan, or even to Seistan, and not a very difficult one to
Makran; and so it came about that migratory movements, either
compulsory or voluntary, continued through centuries, ever extending
their scope till checked by the deserts of the Indian frontier or the
highlands of the Pamirs and Tibet, or the cold wild wastes of
Siberia.

Thus Afghanistan and Baluchistan, the countries with which we are more
immediately concerned, were probably far better known to Assyrian and
Persian kings than they were to the British Intelligence Office (or
its equivalent) of a century ago. The first landward explorations of
these countries are lost in pre-historic mists, but we find that the
first scientific mission of which we have any record (that which was
led by Alexander the Great) was well supplied with fairly accurate
geographical information regarding the main route to be followed and
the main objectives to be gained.

In tracing out, therefore, or rather in sketching, the gradual
progress of exploration in Afghanistan and Baluchistan, and the
gradual evolution of those countries into a proper appanage of British
India, we will begin (as history began) from the north and west rather
than from the south and the plains of Hindustan.




CHAPTER I

EARLY RELATIONS BETWEEN EAST AND WEST. GREECE AND PERSIA AND EARLY
TRIBAL DISTRIBUTIONS ON THE INDIAN FRONTIER.


It is unfortunately most difficult to trace the conditions under which
Europe was first introduced to Asia, or the gradual ripening of early
acquaintance into inter-commercial relationship. Although the eastern
world was possessed of a sound literature in the time of Moses, and
although long before the days of Solomon there was "no end" to the
"making of books," it is remarkable how little has been left of these
archaic records, and it is only by inference gathered from tags and
ends of oriental script that we gradually realize how unimportant to
old-world thinkers was the daily course of their own national history.
India is full of ancient literature, but there is no ancient history.
To the Brahmans there was no need for it. To them the world and all
that it contains was "illusion," and it was worse than idle--it was
impious--to perpetuate the record of its varied phases as they
appeared to pass in unreal pageantry before their eyes. We know that
from under the veil of extravagant epic a certain amount of historical
truth has been dragged into daylight. The "Mahabharata" and the
"Ramayana" contain in allegorical outline the story of early conflicts
which ended in the foundation of mighty Rajput houses, or which
established the distribution of various races of the Indian peninsula.
Without an intimate knowledge of the language in which these great
epics are written it is impossible to estimate fully the nature of the
allegory which overlies an interesting historical record, but it has
always appeared to be sufficiently vague to warrant some uncertainty
as to the accuracy of the deductions which have hitherto been evolved
therefrom. Nevertheless it is from these early poems of the East that
we derive all that there is to be known about ancient India, and when
we turn from the East to the West strangely enough we find much the
same early literary conditions confronting us.

About 950 years before Christ, two of the most perfect epic poems were
written that ever delighted the world, the _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_ of
Homer. The first begins with Achilles and ends with the funeral of
Hector. The second recounts the voyages and adventures of Ulysses
after the destruction of Troy. With our modern intimate knowledge of
the coasts of the Mediterranean it is not difficult to detect, amidst
the fabulous accounts of heroic adventures, many references to
geographical facts which must have been known generally to the Greeks
of the Homeric period, dealing chiefly with the coasts and islands of
the Western sea. There is but little reference to the East, although
many centuries before Homer's day there was a sea-going trade between
India and the West which brought ivory, apes, and peacocks to the
ports of Syria. The obvious inference to be derived from the general
absence of reference to the mysteries of Eastern geography is that
there was no through traffic. Ships from the East traded only along
the coast-lines that they knew, and ventured no farther than the point
where an interchange of commodities could be established with the slow
crawling craft of the West, the navigation of the period being
confined to hugging the coast-line and making for the nearest
shelter when times were bad. The interchange of commodities between
the rough sailor people of those days did not tend to an interchange
of geographical information. Probably the language difficulty stood in
the way. If there was no end to the making of books it was not the
illiterate and rough sailor men who made them. Nor do sailors, as a
rule, make them now. It is left to the intelligent traveller
uninterested in trade, and the journalistic seeker after sensation, to
make modern geographical records; and there were no such travellers in
the days of Homer, even if the art of writing had been a general
accomplishment. In days much later than Homer we can detect sailors'
yarns embodied in what purport to be authentic geographical records,
but none so early. We have a reference to certain Skythic nomads who
lived on mare's milk, and who had wandered from the Asiatic highlands
into the regions north of the Euxine, which is in itself deeply
interesting as it indicates that as early as the ninth century B.C.
Milesian Greek colonies had started settlements on the shores of the
Black Sea. As the centuries rolled on these settlements expanded into
powerful colonies, and with enterprising people such as the early
Greeks there can be little doubt that there was an intermittent
interchange of commerce with the tribes beyond the Euxine, and that
gradually a considerable, if inaccurate, knowledge of Asia, even
beyond the Taurus, was acquired. The world, for them, was still a flat
circular disc with a broad tidal ocean flowing around its edge,
encompassing the habitable portions about the centre.

Africa extended southward to the land of Ethiop and no farther, but
Asia was a recognised geographical entity, less vague and nebulous
even than the western isles from whence the Ph[oe]nicians brought
their tin. There were certain fables current among the Greeks touching
the one-eyed Arimaspians, the gold-guarding griffins, and the
Hyperboreans, which in the middle of the sixth century were still
credited, and almost indicate an indefinite geographical conception of
northern Asiatic regions. But it is probable that much more was known
of Asiatic geography in these early years than can be gathered from
the poems and fables of Greek writers before the days of Herodotus and
of professional geography. There were no means of recording knowledge
ready to the hand of the colonist and commercial traveller then; even
the few literary men who later travelled for the sake of gaining
knowledge were dependent largely on information obtained scantily and
with difficulty from others, and the expression of their knowledge is
crude and imperfect. But what should we expect even in present times
if we proceeded to compile a geographical treatise from the works of
Milton and Shakespere? What indeed would be the result of a careful
analysis of parliamentary utterances on geographical subjects within,
say, the last half century? Would they present to future generations
anything approaching to an accurate epitome of the knowledge really
possessed (though possibly not expressed) by those who have within
that period almost exhausted the world's store of geographical record?
The analogy is a perfectly fair one. Geographers and explorers are not
always writers even in these days, and as we work backwards into the
archives of history nothing is more astonishing than the indications
which may be found of vast stores of accurate information of the
earth's physiography lost to the world for want of expression.

It was between the sixth century B.C. and the days of Herodotus that
Miletus was destroyed, and captive Greeks were transported by Darius
Hystaspes from the Lybian Barke to Baktria, where we find traces of
them again under their original Greek name in the northern regions of
Afghanistan. It was long ere the days of Darius that the hosts of
Assyria beat down the walls of Samaria and scattered the remnants of
Israel through the highlands of Western Asia. Where did they drift to,
these ten despairing tribes? Possibly we may find something to remind
us of them also in the northern Afghan hills.

It was probably about the same era that some pre-Hellenic race, led
(so it is written) by the mythical hero Dionysos, trod the weary route
from the Euxine to the Caspian, and from the southern shores of the
Caspian to the borderland of modern Indian frontier, where their
descendants welcomed Alexander on his arrival as men of his own faith
and kin, and were recognised as such by the great conqueror. Now all
this points to an acquaintance with the geographical links between
East and West which appears nowhere in any written record. Nowhere can
we find any clear statement of the actual routes by which these
pilgrims were supposed to have made their long and toilsome journeys.
Just the bare facts are recorded, and we are left to guess the means
by which they were accomplished. But it is clear that the old-world
overland connection between India and the Black Sea is a very old
connection indeed, and further, it is clear that what the Greeks may
not have known the Persians certainly did know. When Herodotus first
set solidly to work on a geographical treatise which was to embrace
the existing knowledge of the whole world, he undoubtedly derived a
great deal of that knowledge from official Persian sources; and it may
be added that the early Persian department for geographical
intelligence has been proved by this last century's scientific
investigations to have collected information of which the accuracy is
certainly astonishing. It is only quite recently, during the process
of surveys carried on by the Government of India through the highlands
and coast regions of Baluchistan and Eastern Persia, that anything
like a modern gazetteer of the tribes occupying those districts has
been rendered possible. Twenty-five years ago our military information
concerning ethnographic distributions in districts lying immediately
beyond the north-western frontier was no better than that which is
contained in the lists of the Persian satrapies, given to the world by
Herodotus nearly 500 years before the Christian era. Twenty-five years
ago we did not know of the existence of some of the tribes and peoples
mentioned by him, and we were unable to identify others. Now, however,
we are at last aware that through twenty-four centuries most of them
have clung to their old habitat in a part of the Eastern world where
material wealth and climatic attractions have never been sufficient to
lead to annihilation by conquest. Oppressed and harried by successive
Persian dynasties, overrun by the floatsam and jetsam of hosts of
migratory Asiatic peoples from the North, those tribes have mostly
survived to bear a much more valuable testimony to the knowledge of
the East entertained by the West in the days of Herodotus than any
which can be gathered from written documents.

The Milesian colonies founded on the southern and western shores of
the Euxine in the sixth and seventh centuries B.C., whilst retaining
their trade connection with the parent city of Miletus (where sprang
that carpet-making industry for which this corner of Asia has been
famous ever since), found no open road to the further eastern trade
through the mountain regions that lie south of the Black Sea. Half a
century after Herodotus we find Xenophon struggling in almost helpless
entanglement amongst these wild mountains comparatively close to the
Greek colonies; and it was there that he encountered the fiercest
opposition from the native tribes-people that he met with during his
famous retreat from Persia. It is always so. Our most active opponents
on the Indian frontier are the mountaineers of the immediate
borderland--the people who _know_ us best, and therefore fear us most.
It was chiefly through Miletus and the Cilician gates that Greek
trade with Persia and Babylon was maintained. There were no Greek
colonies on the rugged eastern coasts of the Black Sea--sufficient
indication that no open trade route existed direct to the Caspian by
any line analogous to that of the modern railway that connects Batum
with Baku. On the north of the Euxine, however, there were great and
flourishing colonies (of which Olbia at the mouth of the Borysthenes,
or Dnieper, was the most famous) which undoubtedly traded with the
Skythic peoples north and west of the Caspian. From these sources came
the legends of Hyperboreans and Griffins and other similar tales, all
flavoured with the glamour of northern mystery, but none of them
pointing to an eastern origin. Recent investigations into the
ethnography of certain tribes in Afghanistan, however, seem to prove
conclusively that even if there was no recognised trade between Greece
and India before Miletus was destroyed by Darius Hystaspes, and Greek
settlers were transported by the Persian conqueror to the borders of
the modern Badakshan, yet there must have been Greek pioneers in
colonial enterprise who had made their way to the Far East and stayed
there. For instance, we have that strange record of settlements under
Dionysos amongst the spurs and foothills of the Hindu Kush, which were
clearly of Greek origin, although Arrian in his history of Alexander's
progress through Asia is unable to explain the meaning of them.

There is more to be said about these settlements later. The first
actual record of settlement of Greeks in Baktria is that of Herodotus,
to which we have referred as being affected by Darius Hystaspes in the
sixth century before Christ, and the descendants of these settlers are
undoubtedly the people referred to by Arrian as "Kyreneans", who could
be no other than the Greek captives from the Lybian Barke. Their
existence two centuries later than Herodotus is attested by Arrian,
and they were apparently in possession of the Kaoshan pass over the
Hindu Kush at the time of Alexander's expedition. Another body of
Greeks is recorded by Arrian to have been settled in the Baktrian
country by Xerxes after his flight from Greece. These were the
Brankhidai of Milesia, whose posterity are said to have been
exterminated by Alexander in punishment for the crimes of their
grandfather Didymus. The name Barang, or Farang, is frequently
repeated in the mountain districts of Northern Afghanistan and
Badakshan, and careful inquiry would no doubt reveal the fact that
surviving Greek affinities are still far more widely spread through
that part of Asia than is generally known. All these settlements were
antecedent to Alexander, but beyond these recorded instances of Greek
occupation there can be little doubt that (as pointed out by Bellew in
his _Ethnography of Afghanistan_ and supported by later observations)
the Greek element had been diffused through the wide extent of the
Persian sovereignty for centuries before the birth of Alexander the
Great. It is probable that each of the four great divisions of the
ancient Greeks had contributed for a thousand years before to the
establishment of colonies in Asia Minor, and from these colonies bands
of emigrants had penetrated to the far east of the Persian dominions,
either as free men or captives. Amongst the clans and tribal sections
of Afghans and Pathans are to be found to this day names that are
clearly indicative of this pre-historic Greek connection.

Persia at her greatest maintained a considerable overland trade with
India, and Indian tribute formed a large part of her revenues. All
Afghanistan was Persian; all Baluchistan, and the Indian frontier to
the Indus. The underlying Persian element is strong in all these
regions still, the dominant language of the country, the speech of the
people, whether Baluch or Pathan, is of Persian stock, whilst the
polite tongue of Court officials, if not the Persian of Tehran or
Shiraz, is at least an imitation of it. It is hardly strange that the
Greek language should have absolutely disappeared. We have the
statement of Seneca (referred to by Bellew in his _Inquiry_) that the
Greek language was spoken in the Indus valley as late as the middle of
the first century after Christ; "if indeed it did not continue to be
the colloquial in some parts of the valley to a considerably later
period." As this is nearly two centuries after the overthrow of Greek
dominion in Afghanistan, it at least indicates that the Greek
settlements established four centuries earlier must have continued to
exist, and to be reinforced by Greek women (for children speak their
mother's tongue) to a comparatively late period; and that the triumph
of the Jat over the Greek did not by any means efface the influence of
the Greek in India for centuries after it occurred. It is probable
that when the importation of Greek women (who were often employed in
the households of Indian chiefs and nobles at a time when Greek ladies
married Indian Princes) ceased, then the Greek language ceased to
exist also. The retinue and followers of Alexander's expedition took
the women of the country to wife, and it is not, as is so often
supposed, to the results of that expedition so much as to the long
existence of Greek colonies and settlements that we must attribute the
undoubted influence of Greek art on the early art of India.

Thus we have a wide field before us for inquiry into the early history
of ethnographical movement in Asia, as it affected the relation
between Europe and Afghanistan. Afghanistan (which is a modern
political development) has ever held the landward gates of India. We
cannot understand India without a study of that wide hinterland
(Afghan, Persian, and Baluch) through which the great restless human
tide has ever been on the move: now a weeping nation of captives led
by tear-sodden routes to a land of exile; now a band of merchants
reaching forward to the land of golden promise; or perchance an army
of pilgrims marching with their feet treading deep into narrow
footways to the shrines of forgotten saints; or perchance an armed
host seeking an uncertain fate; a ceaseless, waveless tide, as
persistent, as enterprising, and infinitely more complicated in its
developments than the process of modern emigration, albeit modern
emigration may spread more widely.

Living as we do in fixed habitations and hedged in not merely by
narrow seas but by the conventionalities of civilized existence, we
fail to realize the conditions of nomadic life which were so familiar
to our Asiatic ancestors. Something of its nature may be gathered
to-day from the Kalmuk and Kirghiz nomads of Central Asia. A day's
march is not a day's march to them--it is a day's normal occupation.
The yearly shift in search of fresh pasture is not a flitting on a
holiday tour; it is as much a part of the year's life as the change of
raiment between summer to winter. Everything moves; the home is not
left behind; every man, woman, and child of the family has a
recognised share in the general shift. Perhaps that of the Kirghiz man
is the easiest. He smokes a lazy pipe in the bright sunshine and
watches his boys strip off the felt covering of his wicker-built
"kibitka," whilst his wife with floating bands of her white headdress
fluttering in the breeze, and her quilted coat turned up to give more
freedom to her booted legs, gets together the household traps in
compact bundles for the great hairy camel to carry. Her efforts are
not inartistic; long experience has taught her exactly where every
household god can be stowed to the best advantage. Meanwhile the
happy, good-looking Kirghiz girls are racing over the grass country
after sheep, and ere long the little party is making its slow but sure
way over the breezy steppes to the passes of the blue mountains, which
look down from afar on to the warmer plains. And who has the best of
it? The free-roving, untrammelled child of the plain, quite godless,
and taking no thought for the morrow, or the carefully cultured and
tight-fitted product of civilization to whom the motor and the railway
represent the only thinkable method of progression? That, however, is
not the point. What we wish to emphasize is the apparent inability on
the part of many writers on the subject of ancient history and
geography to realize the essential difference between then and now as
regards human migratory movement.

There is often an apparent misconception that there is more movement
in these days of railways and steamers and motors than existed ten
centuries before Christ. The difference lies not in the comparative
amount of movement but in the method of it. In one sense only is there
more movement--there are more people to travel; but in a broader sense
there is much less movement. Whole nations are no longer shifted at
the will of the conqueror across a continent, trade seekers no longer
devote their lives to the personal conduct of caravans; armies swelled
to prodigious size by a tagrag following no longer (except in China)
move slowly over the face of the land, devouring, like a swarm of
locusts, all that comes in their way. Colonial emigration perhaps
alone works on a larger scale now than in those early times; but
taking it "bye and large," the circulation of the human race,
unrestricted by political boundaries, was certainly more constant in
the unsettled days of nomadic existence than in these later days of
overgrown cities and electric traffic. If little or nothing is
recorded of many of the most important migrations which have changed
the ethnographic conditions of Asia, whilst at the same time we have
volumes of ancient philosophy and mythology, it is because such
changes were regarded as normal, and the current of contemporary
history as an ephemeral phenomenon not worth the labour of close
inquiry or a manuscript record.

Such a gazetteer as that presented to us by Herodotus would not have
been possible had there not been free and frequent access to the
countries and the people with whom it deals. It is impossible to
conceive that so much accuracy of detail could have been acquired
without the assistance of personal inquiry on the spot. If this is so,
then the Persians at any rate knew their way well about Asia as far
east as Tibet and India, and the Greeks undoubtedly derived their
knowledge from Persia. When Alexander of Macedon first planned his
expedition to Central Asia he had probably more certain knowledge of
the way thither than Lord Napier of Magdala possessed when he set out
to find the capital of Theodore's kingdom in Abyssinia, and it is most
interesting to note the information which was possessed by the Greek
authorities a century and a half before Alexander's time.

One notable occurrence pointing to a fairly comprehensive knowledge of
geography of the Indian border by the Persians, was the voyage of the
Greek Scylax of Caryanda down the Indus, and from its mouth to the
Arabian Gulf, which was regarded by Herodotus as establishing the fact
of a continuous sea. This voyage, or mission, which was undertaken by
order of Darius who wished to know where the Indus had its outlet and
"sent some ships" on a voyage of discovery, is most instructive. It is
true that the accounts of it are most meagre, but such details as are
given establish beyond a doubt that the expedition was practical and
real. The Persian dominions then extended to the Indus, but there is
no evidence that they ever extended beyond that river into the
peninsula of India. The Indus of the Persian age was not the Indus of
to-day, and its outlet to the sea presumably did not differ materially
from that of the subsequent days of Alexander and Nearkos. Thanks to
the careful investigations of the Bombay Survey Department, and the
close attention which has been given to ancient landmarks by General
Haig during the progress of his surveys, we know pretty certainly
where the course of the Lower Indus must have been, and where both
Scylax and Nearkos emerged into the Arabian Sea. The Indus delta of
to-day covers an area of 10,000 square miles with 125 miles of
coast-line, and it presents to us a huge alluvial tract which is
everywhere furrowed by ancient river channels. Some of these are
continuous through the delta, and can be traced far above it; others
are traceable for only short distances. Without entering into details
of the rate of progression in the formation of Delta (which can be
gathered not only from the abandoned sites of towns once known as
coast ports, but from actual observation from year to year), it may be
safely assumed that the Indus of Alexander and Scylax emptied itself
into the Ran of Kach, far to the south of its present debouchment. The
volume of its waters was then augmented by at least one important
river (the Saraswati), which, flowing from the Himalayas through what
is now known as the Rajputana desert, was the source of widespread
wealth and fertility to thousands of square miles where now there is
nothing to be met with but sandy waste. As far as the Indus the
Persian Empire is known to have extended, but no farther; and it was
important to the military advisers of Darius that something should be
known of the character of this boundary river.

Wherever the ships sent by Darius may have gone it is quite clear that
they did not sail _up_ the Indus, or there would have been no
objective for an expedition which was organised to determine where the
Indus met the sea by the process of sailing down that river. Moreover,
the voyage up the Indus would have been tedious and slow, and could
only have been undertaken in the cold weather with the assistance of
native pilots acquainted with the ever-shifting bed of the river,
which, so far as its liability to change of channel is concerned, must
have been much the same in the days of Darius as it is at present. The
possibility, therefore, is that Scylax made his way to the Upper Indus
overland, for we are told that the expedition _started_ from the city
of Carpatyra in the Pactyan country. This in itself is exceedingly
instructive, indicating that the Pactyans, or Pathans, or Pukhtu
speaking peoples have occupied the districts of the Upper Indus for
four-and-twenty centuries at least; and coincident with them we learn
that the Aprytae or Afridi shared the honour of being resident
landowners. Nor need we suppose that the beginning of this history was
the beginning of their existence. The Afridi may have rejoiced in his
native hills ten or twenty centuries before he was written about by
Herodotus. We need not stay to identify the site of Carpatyra. The
Upper Indus valley is full of ancient sites. A century and a half
later Taxilla was the recognized capital of the Upper Punjab, and
Carpatyra meanwhile may have disappeared. Anyhow we hear of Carpatyra
no more, nor has the ingenuity of modern research thrown any certain
light on its position. It is, however, probably near Attok that we
must look for it. Scylax made his way down the Indus in native craft
that from long before his day to the present have retained their
primitive form, a form which was not unlike that of the coast crawling
"ships" of Darius. He proved the existence of an open water-way from
the Upper Punjab to the Persian Gulf, and incidentally his expedition
shows us that the chief lines of communication through the width of
the Persian Empire were well known, and that the road from Susa to the
Upper Indus was open. The outlying satrapies of the Persian Empire
could never have been added one by one to that mighty power without
definite knowledge of the way to reach them. It was not merely a
spasmodic expedition, such as that of Scylax, which pointed the way to
the conquests of the Far East; it was the gathered information of
years of experience, and it was on the basis of this experience
(unwritten and unrecorded so far as we know) that Alexander founded
his plans of campaign.

The detailed list of peoples included in the satrapies of the Persian
Empire, whilst it is more ethnographical than geographical in its
character, is sufficient proof in itself of the existence of constant
movement between Persia and the borderland of Afghanistan, which
assuredly included commercial traffic. This enumeration has been
compared with a catalogue of tribal contingents which swelled the
great army of Xerxes, an independent statement, and therefore a
valuable test to the general accuracy of Herodotus; and it is still
further confirmed by the list of nations subject to the Persian king
found in the inscriptions of Darius at Behistan and Persepolis. We are
not immediately concerned with the satrapies included in Western Asia
and Egypt, but when Herodotus makes a sudden departure from his rule
of geographical sequence and introduces a satrapy on the remotest east
of the Persian Empire, we immediately recognize that he touches the
Indian frontier.

The second satrapy most probably corresponds with that part of Central
Afghanistan south of the Kabul River, which lies west of the Suliman
Hills and north of the Kwaja Amran or Khojak. Every name mentioned by
Herodotus certainly has its counterpart in one or other of the tribes
to be found there to this day, excepting the Lydoi (whose history as
Ludi is fairly well known) and the Lasonoi, who have emigrated, the
former into India and the latter to Baluchistan.

The seventh satrapy, again, comprised the Sattagydai, the Gandarioi,
the Dadikai, and the Aparytai ("joined together"), an association of
names too remarkable to be mistaken. The Sattag or Khattak, the
Gandhari, the Dadi, and the Afridi are all trans-Indus people, and
without insisting too strongly on the exact habitat of each,
originally there can be little doubt that the seventh satrapy included
a great part of the Indus valley.

The eleventh satrapy is also probably a district of the Indian
trans-frontier, although Bunbury associates the name Kaspioi with the
Caspian Sea. It is far more likely that the Kaspioi of Herodotus are
to be recognized as the people of the ancient Kaspira or Kasmira, and
the Daritae as the Daraddesa (Dards) of the contiguous mountains. All
Kashmir, even to the borders of Tibet (whence came the story of the
gold-digging ants), was well enough known to the Persians and through
them to Herodotus.

The twelfth satrapy comprised Balkh and Badakshan--what is now known
as Afghan Turkistan. It was here that, generations before Alexander's
campaign, those Greek settlements were founded by Darius and Xerxes
which have left to this day living traces of their existence in the
places originally allotted to them. In Afghan Turkistan also was
founded the centre of Greek dominion in this part of Asia after the
conquest of Persia, and it is impossible to avoid the conviction that
there was a connection between these two events. The Greeks took the
country from the Bakhi; but there are no people of this name left in
these provinces now. They may (as Bellew suggests) be recognized
again in the Bakhtyari of Southern Persia, but it seems unlikely; and
it is far more probable that they were obliterated by Alexander as his
most active opponents after he passed Aria (Herat) and Drangia
(Seistan).

The sixteenth satrapy was north of the Oxus, and included Sogdia and
Aria (Herat). South of Aria was the fourteenth satrapy, represented by
Seistan and Western Makran, with "the islands of the sea in which the
King settles transported convicts"; and east of this again was the
seventeenth satrapy covering Southern Baluchistan and Eastern Makran.
It is only during the last twenty-five years that an accurate
geographical knowledge of these uninviting regions has been attained.
The gradual extension of the red line of the Indian border, with the
necessity for preserving peace and security, has gradually enveloped
Makran and Persian Baluchistan, the Gadrosia and Karmania of the
Greeks, and has brought to light many strange secrets which have been
dormant (for they were no secrets to the traveller of the Middle Ages)
for a few centuries prior to the arrival of the British flag in
Western India. It is an inhospitable country which is thus included.
"Mostly desert," as one ancient writer says; marvellously furrowed and
partitioned by bands of sun-scorched rocky hills, all narrow and sharp
where they follow each other in parallel waves facing the Arabian Sea,
or massed into enormous square-faced blocks of impassable mountain
barrier whenever the uniform regularity of structure is lost. And yet
it is a country full not only of interest historical and
ethnographical, such as might be expected of the environment of a
series of narrow passages leading to the western gates of India, but
of incident also. There are amongst these strange knife-backed
volcanic ridges and scarped clay hills valleys of great beauty, where
the date-palms mass their feathery heads into a forest of green, and
below them the fertile soil is moist and lush with cultured
vegetation. But we have described elsewhere this strangely mixed land,
and we have now only to deal with the aspect of it as known to the
Greeks before the days of Alexander. That knowledge was ethnographical
in its quality and exceedingly slight in quantity. Herodotus mentions
the Sagartoi, Zarangai, Thamanai, Uxoi, and Mykoi. These are Seistan
tribes. The Sagartoi were nomads of Seistan, mentioned both amongst
tribes paying tribute and those who were exempt. The Zarangai were the
inhabitants of Drangia (Seistan), where their ancient capital fills
one of the most remarkable of all historic sites. The Zarangai are
said to be recognizable in the Afghan Durani. No Afghan Durani would
admit this. He claims a very different origin (as will be explained),
and in the absence of authoritative history it is never wise to set
aside the traditions of a people about themselves, especially of a
people so advanced as the Duranis. More probable is it that the
ancient geographical appellation Zarangai covers the historic Kaiani
of Seistan supposed to be the same as the Kakaya of Sanscrit.

The Uxoi may be the modern Hots of Makran--a people who are
traditionally reckoned amongst the most ancient of the mixed
population which has drifted into the Makran ethnographic cul-de-sac,
and who were certainly there in Alexander's time. In eastern Makran,
Herodotus mentions only the Parikanoi and the Asiatic Ethiopian.
Parikan is the Persian plural form of the Sanscrit Parva-ka, which
means "mountaineer." This bears exactly the same meaning as the word
Kohistani, or Barohi, and is not a tribal appellation at all, although
the latter may possibly have developed into the Brahui, the well-known
name of a very important Dravidian people of Southern Baluchistan
(highlanders all of them) who are akin to the Dravidian races of
Southern India. The Asiatic Ethiopian presents a more difficult
problem. During the winter of 1905 careful inquiries were made in
Makran for any evidence to support the suggestion that a tribe of
Kushite origin still existed in that country. It is of interest in
connection with the question whether the earliest immigrants into
Mesopotamia (these people who, according to Accadian tradition,
brought with them from the South the science of civilization) were a
Semitic race or Kushites. It is impossible to ignore the existence of
Kushite races in the east as well as the south. We have not only the
authority of the earliest Greek writings, but Biblical records also
are in support of the fact, and modern interest only centres in the
question what has become of them. Bellew suggests that it was after
the various Kush or Kach, or Kaj tribes that certain districts in
Baluchistan are called Kach Gandava or Kach (Kaj) Makran, and that the
chief of these tribes were the Gadara, after whom the country was
called Gadrosia. This seems mere conjecture. At any rate the term
Kach, sometimes Kachchi, sometimes Katz, is invariably applied to a
flat open space, even if it is only the flat terrace above a river
intervening between the river and a hill, and is purely geographical
in its significance. But it was a matter of interest to discover
whether the Gadurs of Las Bela could be the Gadrosii, or whether they
exhibited any Ethiopian traits. The Gadurs, however, proved to be a
section of the Rajput clan of Lumris, a proud race holding themselves
aloof from other clans and never intermarrying with them. There could
be no mistake about the Rajput origin of the red-skinned Gadur. He was
a Kshatrya of the lunar race, but he might very possibly represent the
ancient Gadrosii, even though he is no descendant of Kush. The other
Rajput tribes with whom the Gadurs coalesce have apparently held their
own in Las from a period quite remote, and must have been there when
Alexander passed that way.

Asiatic negroes abound in Makran: some of them fresh importations from
Africa, others bred in the slave villages of the Arabian Sea coast, as
they have been for centuries. They are a fine, brawny, well-developed
race of people, and some of the best of them are to be found as
stokers in the P. & O. service; but they do not represent the Asiatic
Ethiopian of Herodotus, who could hardly compile a gazetteer for the
Greeks which should include all the ethnographical information known
to the Persians, any more than our Intelligence Department could
compile a complete gazetteer of the whole Russian Empire. To the
maritime Greek nation the overwhelming preponderance of the huge
Empire which overshadowed them must have created the same feeling of
anxious suspicion that the unwieldy size of Russia presents to us, and
it is not very likely that military intelligence of a really practical
nature was offered gratis to the Greeks by the Persian geographers and
military leaders. It is not surprising, therefore, that Herodotus did
not know all that existed on the far Persian frontier. There are
tribes and peoples about Southern Baluchistan who are as ancient as
Herodotus but who are not mentioned. For instance, the ruling tribe in
Makran until quite recently (when they were ousted by certain Sikh or
Rajput interlopers called Gichki) were the Boledi, and their country
was once certainly called Boledistan. The Boledi valley is one of the
loveliest in a country which is apt to enhance the loveliness of its
narrow bands of luxuriance by their rarety and their narrowness. It is
a sweet oasis in the midst of a barren rocky sea, and must always have
been an object of envy to dwellers outside, even in days when a fuller
water-supply, more widely spread, turned many a valley green which is
now deep drifted with sand. Ptolemy mentions the Boledis, so that they
can well boast the traditional respectability of age-long ancestry.
The Boledis are said to have dispossessed the Persian Kaiani Maliks,
who ruled Makran in the seventeenth century, when they headed what is
known as the Baluch Confederation. This may be veritable history, but
their pride of race and origin, on whatever record it is based, has
come to an end now; it has been left to the present generation to see
the last of them. A few years ago there was living but one
representative of the ruling family of the Boledis, an old lady named
Miriam, who was exceedingly cunning in the art of embroidery, and made
the most bewitching caps. She was, I believe, dependent on the bounty
of the Sultan of Muscat, who possesses a small tract of territory on
the Makran coast. Herodotus apparently knew nothing about the Boledis,
nor can it be doubted that the Greek knowledge of Makran was
exceedingly scanty. Thus, whilst Alexander marched to the Indian
frontier, well supplied with information as to the ways thither when
once he could make Persia his base, he was almost totally ignorant of
the one route out of India which he eventually followed, and which so
nearly enveloped his whole force in disaster.




CHAPTER II

ASSYRIA AND AFGHANISTAN--ANCIENT LAND ROUTES--POSSIBLE SEA ROUTES


With the building up of the vast Persian Empire, and the gradual
fostering of eastern colonies, and the consequent introduction of the
manners and methods of Western Asia into the highlands of Samarkand
and Badakshan, other nationalities were concerned besides Persians and
Greeks. Captive peoples from Syria had been deported to Assyria seven
centuries before Christ. The House of Israel had been broken up (for
Samaria had fallen in 721 B.C. before the victorious hosts of Sargon),
and some of the Israelitish families had been deported eastwards and
northwards to Northern Mesopotamia and Armenia. With the vitality of
their indestructible race it is at least possible that a remnant
survived as serfs in Assyria, preserving their own customs and
institutions--secretly if not openly--intermarrying, trading, and
money-making, yet still looking for the final restoration of Israel
until the final break-up of the Assyrian Kingdom. They were never
absolutely absorbed, and never forgot to recount their historic
pedigree to their children.

With the final overthrow of the Assyrian Kingdom we lose sight of the
tribes of Israel, who for more than a century had been mingled with
the peoples of Northern Mesopotamia and Armenia. At least history
holds no record of their further national existence. From time
immemorial in Asia it had been customary for the captives taken in war
to be transported bodily to another field for purposes of colonization
and public labour. When the world was more scantily peopled such
methods were natural and effectual; the increase of working power
gained thereby being of the utmost importance in days when enormous
irrigation canals were excavated, and bricks had to be fashioned for
the construction of walled cities.

The extent and magnificence of Assyrian building must have demanded an
immense supply of such manual labour for the purpose of brickmaking.
All the mighty works of ancient Egypt, Assyria, and Babylon were
literally "the work of men's hands." In Mesopotamia was captured
labour especially necessary. Stone was indeed available at Nineveh,
but the barrenness of the soil which stretches flatly from the rugged
hills of Kurdistan across Mesopotamia rendered the country
unproductive unless enormous works of irrigation were undertaken for
the distribution of water. Mesopotamia is a country of immense
possibilities, but the wealth of it is only for those who can
distribute the waters of its great rivers over the productive soil.
The yearly inundations of the Euphrates and Tigris are but sufficient
for the needs of a narrow strip of land on either side the rivers, and
the crops of the country undeveloped by canals can only support a
scattered and scanty population. Towards the south there is another
difficulty. The flat soil becomes water-logged and marshy and runs to
waste for want of drainage. There is no stone for building purposes
near Babylon. Approaching Babylon over the windy wastes of
scrub-powdered plain there is nothing to be seen in the shape of a
hill. Long, low, flat-topped mounds stretch athwart the horizon and
resolve themselves on nearer approach into deeply scarred and
weather-worn accretions of debris, or else they are banks of ancient
waterways winding through the steppe, the last remnants of a
stupendous system of irrigation. Then there breaks into view the
solitary erection which stands in the open plain overlooking a wide
vista of marsh and swamp to the west, which represents the ruins
called Birs Nimrud, the Ziggurat or temple which, in successive tiers
devoted to the powers of heaven, supported the shrine of Mercury. It
is by far the most conspicuous object in the Babylonian landscape;
huge, dilapidated, and unshapely, it mounts guard over a silent,
stagnant, swampy plain.

Now the remarkable feature in all these gigantic remains of antiquity
is that they are built of brick. In the wide expanse of Mesopotamia
plain around there is not a stone quarry to be found. Of Nineveh, we
learn from the masterly records of Xenophon that as he was leading the
surviving 10,000 Greeks in their retreat from the disastrous field of
Babylon back to the sunny Hellespont, some 200 years after the
destruction of Nineveh, he came upon a vast desert city on the Tigris.
The wall of it was 25 feet wide, 100 feet high, with a 20-foot
basement of stone. This was all that was left of Kalah, one of the
Assyrian capitals. A day's march farther north he came on another
deserted city with similar walls. These were the dry bones of Nineveh,
already forgotten and forsaken. Two centuries had in these early ages
been sufficient to blot out the memory of Assyrian greatness so
completely that Xenophon knew not of it, nor recognized the place
where his foot was treading. Barely seventy years ago was the memory
of them restored to man, and tokens of the richness and magnificence
of the art which embellished them first given to the world. The mounds
representing Nineveh and Babylon are some of them of enormous size.
The mound of Mugheir (the ancient Ur) is the ancient platform of an
Assyrian palace, which is faced with a wall 10 feet thick of red
kiln-dried bricks cemented with bitumen. Some of these platforms were
raised from 50 to 60 feet above the plain and protected by massive
stone masonry carried to a height exceeding that of the platform. But
the Babylonian mound of Birs Nimrud, which rises from the plain level
to the blue glazed masonry of the upper tier of the Ziggurat, is
altogether a brick construction. The debris of the many-coloured
bricks now forms a smooth slope for many feet from its base; but
above, where the square blocks of brickwork still hold together in
scattered disarray, you may still dig out a foot-square brick with the
title and designations of Nebuchadnezzar imprinted on its face. These
artificial mounds could only have been built at an enormous cost of
labour. The great mound of Koyunjik (the palace of Nineveh) covers an
area of 100 acres and reaches up 95 feet at its highest point. It has
been calculated that to heap up such a pile would "require the united
efforts of 10,000 men for twelve years, or 20,000 men for six years"
(Rawlinson, _Five Monarchies_), and then only the base of the palace
is reached; and there are many such mounds, for "it seems to have been
a point of honour with the Assyrian Kings that each should build a new
palace for himself" (Ragozin, _Chaldaea_).

Only conquering monarchs with whole nations as prisoners could have
compassed such results. This, indeed, was one of the great objectives
of war in these early times. It was the amassing of a great population
for manual labour and the creation of new centres of civilization and
trade. Thus it was that the peoples of Western Asia--Egyptians,
Israelites, Jews, Ph[oe]nicians, Assyrians, Babylonians, and even
Greeks--were transported over vast distances by land, and a movement
given to the human race in that part of the world which has infinitely
complicated the science of ethnology. The peopling of Canada by the
French, of North America by the English, of Brazil by the Portuguese,
of Argentina and Chile by Spaniards and Italians, is perhaps a more
comprehensive process in the distribution of humanity and more
permanent in its character. But ancient compulsory movement, if not as
extensive as modern voluntary emigration, was at least wholesale, and
it led to the distribution of people in districts which would not
naturally have invited them. The first process in the consolidation of
a district, or satrapy, was the settlement of inhabitants, sometimes
in supercession of a displaced or annihilated people, sometimes as an
ethnic variety to the possessors of the soil. Tiglath Pileser was the
first Assyrian monarch to consolidate the Empire by its division into
satrapies. Henceforward the outlying provinces of the dominions were
convenient dumping places for such bodies of captives as were not
required for public works at home.

Nothing would be more natural than that Sargon should deport a portion
of the Israelitish nation to colonize his eastern possessions towards
India, just as Darius Hystaspes later employed the same process to
the same ends when he deported Greeks from the Lybian Barke to
Baktria. There is nothing more astonishing in the fact that we should
find a powerful people claiming descent from Israel in Northern
Afghanistan than that we should find another people claiming a Greek
origin in the Hindu Kush.

Nor was the importance of peopling waste lands and raising up new
nations out of well-planted colonies overlooked ten centuries before
Christ any more than it is now. Then it was a matter of transporting
them overland and on foot to the farthest eastern limits of these
great Asiatic empires. Always east or south they tramped, for nothing
was known of the geography of the North and West. Eastwards lay the
land of the sun, whence came the Indians who fought in the armies of
Darius, and where gold and ivory, apes and peacocks were found to fill
Ph[oe]nician ships. To-day it is different. The peopling of the world
with whites is chiefly a Western process. Emigrants go out in ships,
not as captives, but almost equally in compact bodies--the best of our
working men to Canada, and many of the best of our much-wanted
domestic servants to South Africa. It is a perpetual process in the
world's economy, and perhaps the chief factor in the world's history;
but in the old, old centuries before the Christian era it was
necessarily a land process, and the geographical distribution of the
land features determined the direction of the human tide. Some twenty
years before the fall of Samaria and the deportation of the ten tribes
of Israel, Tiglath Pileser had effected conquests in Asia which
carried him so far east that he probably touched the Indus. Why he
went no farther, or why Alexander subsequently left the greater part
of the Indian peninsula unexplored, is fully explicable on natural
grounds, even if other explanations were wanting.

The Indus valley would offer to the military explorers from the West
the first taste of the quality of the climate of the India of the
plains which they would encounter. The Indus valley in the hot weather
would possess little climatic attraction for the Western highlander.
Alexander's troops mutinied when they got far beyond the Indus. Any
other troops would mutiny under such conditions as governed their
outfit and their march. It is more than possible that the great
Assyrian conqueror before him encountered much the same difficulty. It
is clear, however, historically, that the Assyrian knew and trod the
way to Northern Afghanistan (or Baktria), and if we examine the map of
Asia with any care we shall see that there is no formidable barrier to
the passing of large bodies of people from Nineveh to Herat (Aria), or
from Herat to the Indus valley, until we reach the very gates of India
on the north-west frontier. Four centuries later than Tiglath Pileser
the battle of Arbela was fought to a finish between Alexander and
Darius (who possessed both Greek and Indian troops in his army) on a
field which is not so very far to the east of Nineveh, and which is
probably represented more or less accurately by the modern Persian
town of Erbil. The modern town may not be on the exact site of the
action, and we know that the ancient town was some sixty miles away
from the battlefield. However that may be, we learn that in the
general retreat of the Persians which followed the battle, Darius made
his way to Ecbatana, the ancient capital of the Medes. There he
remained for about a year, but hearing of Alexander's advance from
Persepolis in the spring of 330 B.C. he fled to the north-east, with a
view to taking refuge with his kinsman Bessos, who was then satrap of
Baktria. This gives us the clue to the general line of communication
between Northern Mesopotamia and Baktria (or Afghanistan) in ancient
days; and the twenty-five centuries which have rolled by since that
early period have done little to modify that line.

Until the beginning of the nineteenth century A.D. from the earliest
times with which we can come into contact through any human record,
this high-road (not the only one, but the chief one) must have been
trodden by the feet of thousands of weary pilgrims, captives,
emigrants, merchants, or fighting men--an intermittent tide of
humanity exceeding in volume any host known to modern days--bringing
East into touch with the West to an extent which we can hardly
appreciate. It may be said that the straightest road to Baktria did
not lie through Ecbatana. It did not; but independently of the fact
that Ecbatana was a city of great defensive capacity, and of reasons
both political and military which would have impelled Darius to take
that route, we shall find if we examine the latest Survey of India map
of Western Persia that the geographical distribution of hill and
valley make it the easiest, if not the shortest, route. The
configuration of Western Persia, like that of Makran and Southern
Baluchistan extending to our own north-west frontier, mainly consists
of long lines of narrow ridges curving in lines parallel to the coast,
rocky and mostly impassable to travellers crossing their difficult
ridge and furrow formation transversely, but presenting curiously easy
and open roads along the narrow lateral valleys. Ecbatana once stood
where the modern Hamadan now stands. The road from Arbil (or Erbil)
that carries most traffic follows this trough formation to Kermanshah
and then bends north-eastward to Hamadan. From Hamadan to Rhagai and
the Caspian gates, which was the route followed by Darius in his
flight from Ecbatana, the road was clearly coincident with the present
telegraph line to Tehran from Hamadan, which strikes into the great
post route eastward to Mashad and Herat, one of the straightest and
most uniformly level roads in all Asia. It must always have been so.
Remarkable physical changes have occurred in Asia during these
twenty-five centuries, but nothing to alter the relative disposition
of mountain and plain in this part of Persia, or to change the general
character of its ancient highway. All this part of Persia was under
the dominion of the Assyrian king when the tribes of Israel left Syria
for Armenia. He had but recently traversed the road to India, and he
knew the richness of Baktria (of Afghan Turkistan and Badakshan) and
could estimate what a colony might become in these eastern fields.

What more natural than that he should draft some of his captives
eastward to the land of promise? There is not an important tribe of
people in all that hinterland of India that has not been drafted in
from somewhere. There is not a people left in India, for that matter,
that can safely call themselves indigenous. From Persia and Media,
from Aria and Skythia, from Greece and Arabia, from Syria and
Mesopotamia they have come, and their coming can generally be traced
historically, and their traditions of origin proved to be true. But
there is one important people (of whom there is much more to be said)
who call themselves Ben-i-Israel, who claim a descent from Kish, who
have adopted a strange mixture of Mosaic law and Hindu ordinance in
their moral code, who (some sections at least) keep a feast which
strangely accords with the Passover, who hate the Yahudi (Jew) with a
traditional hatred, and for whom no one has yet been able to suggest
any other origin than the one they claim, and claim with determined
force; and these people rule Afghanistan. It may be that they have
justification for their traditions, even as others have; they may yet
be proved to stand in the same relationship to the scattered remnants
of Israel as some of the Kafir inhabitants of Northern Afghanistan can
be shown to hold to the Greeks of pre-Alexandrian days. It is
difficult to account for the name Afghan: it has been said that it is
but the Armenian word Aghvan (Mountaineer). If this is so, it at once
indicates a connection between the modern Afghan and the Syrian
captives of Armenia.

But whilst "men in nations" were thus traversing the highlands of
Persia from Mesopotamia to Northern Afghanistan by highways so ancient
that they may be regarded almost as geographical fixtures as
everlasting as the hills, we do not find much evidence of traffic with
the Central Asian States north of the Oxus.

Early military excursions into the land of the Skyths were more for
the purpose of dealing with the predatory habits of these warlike
tribes, who afterwards peopled half of Europe as well as India, than
of promoting either trade or geographical inquiry; and it was the
route which led to Northern Afghanistan and Baktria through Northern
Persia which was most attractive from its general accessibility and
promise of profit. It was this way that Northern Kashmir and the
gold-fields of Tibet were touched. The Indian gold which formed so
large a part of the Persian revenues in the time of Darius undoubtedly
came from Northern India and Tibet. Old as are the workings of the
Wynaad gold-fields in the west, and Kolar in the east, of the
peninsula, it is unlikely that either of these sources was known to
Persia.

The more direct routes to India from Ecbatana, passing through Central
Persia _via_ Kashan, Yezd, and Kirman, terminated on the Helmund or in
Makran, and there is no evidence that the mountain system which faces
the Indus was ever crossed by invading Persian hosts. There was,
indeed, a tradition in Alexander's time that an attempt had been made
to traverse Makran and that it had failed. This, says Arrian, was one
of the reasons why Alexander obstinately chose that route on his
retirement from India. In spite, however, of the geographical
difficulties which render it improbable that the hosts of Tiglath
Pileser (who could have dealt with the Skythians of the north readily
enough) ever broke across the north-western gateways of India's
mountain borderland, there was undoubtedly a close connection between
Assyria and India of which the evidence is still with us.

Throughout the golden age of the Second Empire of Assyria, after the
subjugation of Babylon and the consolidation of the Empire by Tiglath
Pileser, during the reigns of Sargon and Senacherib (who fought the
first Assyrian naval fight), Esar Haddon (who destroyed Sidon and
removed the inhabitants) and Assur-bani-pal (Sardanapalus), to the
final overthrow of Assyria by Babylon in 625 B.C., when the star of
Nebuchadnezzar arose on the southern horizon, Assyria held the supreme
command of Eastern commerce, and Nineveh dictated the cannons of art
to the world. No event more profoundly affected the commerce of Asia
than the destruction of Sidon and the bodily transfer of its
commercial inhabitants to Assyria. This was the age of Assyrian art,
of literature, and of architecture; Assyrian culture realized its
culminating point in the reign of Assur-bani-pal, when the library at
Nineveh far surpassed any library that the world had ever seen. It was
then that intercourse between Assyria and India became unbroken and
intimate. Then public works of the largest dimensions were undertaken,
and colonies formed for the purpose of developing the riches of the
newly acquired lands in the East. Assyrian art found its way to India,
and the affinity between Assyrian and Indian art is directly traceable
still in spite of the impress subsequently effected by Greece and
Rome.

The carpets that are spread on the floors of every Anglo-Indian home
and which, as Turkish, Persian, Central Asian, or Indian, are to be
found in every carpet shop in London, usually possess in the
intricacies of their pattern some trace of ancient Assyrian art. As
Sir George Birdwood has long ago pointed out, general similarities
between Assyrian and Indian design in carpet patterns may possibly be
due to a common Turanian origin, pre-Semitic and pre-Aryan; but there
are details of architectural plan in the Southern Indian temples
which, quite as much as the reproduction of the ancient Assyrian "knop
and flower" in its infinite variety of form (all expressing more or
less conventionally the cone and the lotus of the original idea),
testify to an infinitely old art affinity, and at the same time
witness to the wonderful vitality of intelligent design.

The tree of life so largely interwoven into Eastern fabrics was the
"Asherah" or "grove" sacred to Asshur the supreme god of the
Assyrians, the Lord and Giver of life; and it appears to have been the
development of the "Hom" or lotus, which, although it is a Kashmir
valley plant, is always admirably rendered in Assyrian sculpture.
Eventually the date palm took the place of the Hom in the Euphrates
valley, just as the vine replaced it in Asia Minor and Greece. In
Central Asian rugs we find the cone replaced by the pomegranate, and
the tree of life becomes a pomegranate tree. There is too much
intricacy in such similarity of ornamental detail between Assyrian and
Indian art for the result to have been merely developments from a
common pre-historic stock along separate lines. They are clearly
imitations one of the other, and the similarity is but another link in
the chain of evidence which proves that the highways of Asia
connecting Assyria with India through Persia were well-trodden ways
seven centuries at least before Christ, even if the sea route from the
Red Sea and Euphrates had not then reached the Indus and western coast
of India.

Whilst all historical evidence points to the Tehran-Mashad route as
the great highway which linked Mesopotamia with Baktria in past ages,
there are certain curious little indications that the southern road
through Persia, viz. Yezd and Kirman, was also well known, for it is a
remarkable fact (which may be taken for what it is worth) that it is
in the villages and bazaars of Sind that the potters may be found
whose conservative souls delight in the reproduction of a class of
ornamental decoration which most clearly indicates an Assyrian origin.
The direct route to Sind from Mesopotamia is not by way of Herat. It
is (as will be subsequently explained) _via_ Kirman and Makran, but
there is absolutely no historical evidence to support the suggestion
that this was a route utilized by the Assyrians; and there is, on the
other hand, Arrian's statement that roads through Makran were unknown
or but legendary.

It is impossible, however, to ignore the fact that the sea route to
North-western India was utilized in very ancient times; and although
its connection with the northern landward gates of India may appear to
be rather obscure, that connection is a matter which actually concerns
us rather nearly in the present day. For it is by this ancient sea
route that Persia and Baluchistan, Seistan and Afghanistan derive
those supplies of small arms and ammunition which are abundant in
those countries, but which never pass through India. Muskat is the
chief depot for distribution, and the Persian ports of Bandar Abbas,
Jask, or Pasni on the Makran coast are utilized as ports for the
interior, leading by routes which are quite sufficiently good for
caravan traffic towards the point where Afghan territory meets that of
Persia and Baluchistan just south of Seistan. Once in Seistan they are
well behind the passes which split our nearer line of defence in the
trans-Indus hills. Even our command of the sea fails to suppress this
traffic, which has led to such a general distribution of arms of
precision (chiefly of German manufacture), that these countries may
fairly claim to be able to arm their whole population. No recent
researches in the Persian Gulf or on the Persian coast have added much
to the sum of our knowledge respecting the early navigation of these
Eastern seas, but there can be no question as to its immense
antiquity. The Ph[oe]nician settler in Syria and Mesopotamia has been
traced back to his primeval home in the Bahrein Islands, which, if
Herodotus is correct in his estimated date for the founding of Tyre
(2756 years B.C.), takes us back to very early times indeed for the
coast navigation of the Persian Gulf and the Indian Seas. Hiram, King
of Tyre, could look back through long ages to the days when his
Ph[oe]nician forefathers started their well-packed vessels (the
Ph[oe]nicians were famous for their skill in stowing cargo) to crawl
along the coasts of Makran and Western India for the purpose of
acquiring those stores of spices and gold which first made commerce
profitable, or else to make their way westward, guided by the
headlands and shore outlines of Southern Arabia, to gather the riches
from African fields. Makran is full of strange relics of immense age
for which none can account. Since Egyptology has become a recognized
science, who will lay the foundations of such a science for Southern
Arabia and Makran? When will some one arise with the wisdom and the
leisure to write of the power of ancient Arabia, and to trace the
impressions left on the whole world of commerce, of art, of
architecture, and literature by the ancient races who hailed from the
South?

We cannot tell when the first sea-borne trade passed to and fro
between India and the Erythrean Sea, a creeping, slow-moving trade
making the best shift possible of wind and tide, and knowing no guide
but the pole star of that period, and the rocky headlands and islands
of the Makran coast. Many of the ancient islands exist no more, but
the coast is a peculiarly well-marked one for the mariner still.
Probably the coast trade was earlier than the overland caravan
traffic; but the latter was certainly co-existent with the Assyrian
monarchy when Persia and Central Asia lay at the feet of the conqueror
Tiglath Pileser.




CHAPTER III

GREEK EXPLORATION--ALEXANDER--MODERN BALKH--THE BALKH PLAIN AND
BAKTRIA


Twenty-two centuries have rolled away since the first military
expedition from Europe was organized and led into the wilds of an Asia
which was probably as civilized then as it is now. Two thousand two
hundred years, and yet along the wild stretches of the Indian
frontier, where a mound here and there testifies to the former
existence of some forgotten camp, or where in the slant rays of the
evening sun faint indications may be traced on the level Punjab flats
of the foundation of a city long since dead, the name of the great
Macedonian is uttered with reverence and awe as might be the name of a
god who can still influence the lives of men, yet qualified by an
affix which indicates a curious survival of the mythological
conception of gods as human beings. You may wander through some of the
valleys cleft through the western frontier hills, where an
intermittent rivulet of water spreads a network of streamlets on the
boulder-covered bed of the nullah, and where the stony hills rise in
barren slopes on either side, and find, perchance half hidden by
weather-worn debris and tufts of stringy verdure, the remains of what
was once an artificial water-channel, stone built and admirably
graded, and you may ask who was responsible for this construction. Not
a man can say. There is no history, no tradition even, connected with
it. It passes their understanding. Doubtless it was the work of
"Sekunder" (Alexander)--that prehistoric, mythological,
incomprehensible, and yet beneficent being who lives in the minds of
the frontier people as the apotheosis of the Deputy Commissioner. Yet
the impression left on India by the Greeks is marvellously small. It
is chiefly to be found in the architecture and the sculpture of the
Punjab. The Greek language disappeared from the Indus valley about the
end of the tenth century A.D., and there is hardly a Greek place-name
now to be recognized anywhere on the Indus banks. But any unusual
relic of the past, the story of which has passed beyond the memory of
the present tribes-people (even though it may be obviously of mediaeval
Arabic origin), is invariably attributed to Alexander. It is, however,
chiefly in the sculpture and decorations of Buddhist buildings (which
never existed in Alexander's day) that clear evidence exists of Greek
art conception. The classical features and folded raiment of the
sculptured saints and buddhas, which are found so freely in certain
parts of the Punjab, are obviously derived from original Greek ideals
which may very possibly have been transmitted through Rome.

With Alexander in India we have nothing to do in these pages. It is as
the first explorer in the regions beyond India, the Afghan and
Baluchistan hinterlands, that he at present concerns us; and it may
fairly be stated that no later expedition combining scientific
research with military conquest ever added more to the sum of the
world's knowledge of those regions than that led by Alexander. For
centuries after it no light arises on the geographical horizon of the
Indian border. Indeed, not until political exigencies caused by
Russia's steady advance towards India compelled a revision of
political boundaries in Persia, Baluchistan, Afghanistan, and India,
was any very accurate idea obtained of the geographical conditions of
Northern and Western Afghanistan, or of Baluchistan, or of Southern
Persia. The mapping of these countries has been recent, and the
progress of it, as year by year the network of Indian triangulation
and topography spread westward and northward, has reopened many
sources of light which, if not altogether new, have lain hidden ever
since the Macedonian conqueror passed over them. Long before the Greek
army mustered on the banks of the Hellespont we have seen that the
highways to the East were well trodden and well known. It was not
likely that Alexander's intelligence department was lacking in
information. For many centuries subsequent to that expedition the rise
of the Parthian power absolutely cut off these old-world trade
communications and set the restless tides of human emigration into new
channels. But in Alexander's time there was nothing in Persia to
interrupt the interchange of courtesies between East and West.

The great Aryan tide had already flowed from the Central Asian
highlands into India, but Jutes and Skyths had yet to make that great
drift westward which peopled half of Europe with nomadic tribes
speaking kindred tongues--a drift which never rested in its westward
advance till, as Anglians and Saxons, it had enveloped England and
faced its final destiny in an American continent. Assyria had passed
by with arts and commerce rather than with arms, and Persia had
followed in Assyrian tracks. Both had established colonies half-way to
India in the Afghan highlands, Persia with the aid of captive Greeks,
and Assyria with people taken from the Syrian land. The list of
Assyrian and Persian satrapies included all those lands which we now
call the hinterland of India, and which in Alexander's time must have
been absolutely Persianized. But beyond the historical evidence which
can be collected to prove the early, the constant, traffic which
ensued between Mesopotamia, or Asia Minor, and India, after the
consolidation of those two great empires, there is the tradition which
certain Greek writers (notably Arrian) treat rather scornfully, of the
conquest of Upper India by the mythical hero Bacchus. It is never wise
to treat any tradition scornfully, and Arrian is himself obliged to
admit the difficulty of explaining certain records connected with
Alexander's history, without assuming that the tradition was not
groundless.

Writing of the city of Nysa, Arrian says that "it was built by
Dionysos or Bacchus, when he conquered the Indians; but who this
Bacchus was, or at what time or from whence he conquered the Indians
is hard to determine, whether he was that Theban who from Thebes, or
he who from Timolus, a mountain of Lydia, undertook that famous
expedition into India is very uncertain." There is a Greek epic poem
in hexameter verse, called the "Dionysiaka," or "Bassarika," which
tells of the conquest of India by Bacchus, the greatest of all his
achievements. The author is Nonnus of Panopolis in Egypt, who wrote
about the beginning of the fifth century of our era. Bacchus is said
to have received a command from Zeus to turn back the Indians, who had
extended their conquests to the Mediterranean, and in the execution of
this command he marched through Syria and Assyria. In Assyria he was
entertained with magnificent hospitality. Nothing further is said of
the route he took to reach India. The first battle which took place
in India was on the banks of the Hydaspes, where the Indians were
routed. Then followed as an incident in the war the destruction of the
Indian fleet in a naval battle, which is instructive. It took the
assistance of the goddess of war, Pallas Athene, to bring the campaign
to a conclusion, which terminated with the death of the Indian leader
Deriades. Here, then, is crystallized in verse the tradition to which
Arrian refers, and remembering that we are indebted to two great epics
of India, the "Ramayana" and the "Mahabharata," for such glimmering of
the ancient history of the Aryan occupation of India as we possess, we
may very well conceive that the germs of real historical fact lie
half-concealed in this poem of Nonnus. However that may be, it is
tolerably certain that Alexander found a people in Northern India who
claimed a Greek origin when he arrived there, quite apart from the
colonists of Baktria who had been transported there by Darius
Hydaspes, and that he recognized their claim to distant relationship.

When Alexander, then, mustered his army in the sunny fields of Macedon
he was preparing for an expedition over no uncertain ways between
Greece and Baktria or Arachosia (Northern and Western Afghanistan). He
knew what lay before him if he could once break through the Persian
barrier; and the strength of that barrier he must have been well aware
lay as much in the stern fighting qualities of the mercenary Greek
legions in the pay of Persia as in the hosts of Persian and Indian
troops which the Persian monarch could array against him. We have
lists of the component forces on both sides. The Macedonian legions
were homogeneous and patriotic. The Persian army was partly European,
but chiefly Asiatic, with a mixed company of Asiatic troops such as
has probably never taken the field since. The opposing forces, indeed,
partook of the nature of the two armies which fought out the issue of
the Russo-Japanese campaign, and the result was much the same. There
was no tie of national sentiment to bind together the unwieldy cohorts
of Persia. They fought for their pay, and they fought well; but when
big battalions are divided in religious sentiment and unswayed by
patriotism, they are no match for Macedonian cohesion, Mahomedan
Jehad, or Japanese Bushido.

It is quite interesting to examine the details of Alexander's army.
The main body consisted of six brigades of 3000 men, each united to
form an irresistible phalanx. Heavily armoured, with a long shield, a
long sword, and a four-and-twenty foot spear (sarina), the infantryman
of the phalanx must have possessed a powerful physique to enable him
to carry himself and his weapons in the field. The depth of the
phalanx was sixteen ranks, and the first six ranks were so placed that
they could all bring their spears into action at once. The bulk of
the phalanx consisted of Macedonians only. The light infantry, bowmen,
and dartsmen numbered about 6000. A third corps of 6000 men more
lightly armed, but with longer swords than the phalangists (called
Hypaspists), were intermediate. The cavalry consisted of three
classes, light, heavy, and medium, 3000 Macedonian and Thessalian
horsemen, heavily armoured, forming its main strength. The light
cavalry were Thracian lancers. The Royal Horse Guard included eight
Macedonian squadrons of horsemen picked from the best families in
Greece. It is useful to note that there were mounted infantry and
artillery (_i.e._ balistai and katapeltai) with the force. More useful
still to note that none of Alexander's victories were won by the solid
strength of his phalanx; it was the sweeping and resistless force of
his cavalry charges (often led by himself) that gained them.

Perhaps the most notable feature about this Greek expedition to India
was the fact that it was the first military expedition of which there
is any record which included scientific inquiry as one of its objects.
Alexander had on his personal staff men of literary if not of
scientific acquirements, and it is to them doubtless that we owe a
comparatively clear account of the expedition, although unfortunately
their records have only been transmitted to us by later authors. If we
could but recover originals what a host of doubtful points might be
cleared up! It is true that previous to the date of Alexander one man
of genius, Xenophon, had kept a record of a magnificent military
achievement, and had proved himself to be master of literature as he
was of the science of leading; but Xenophon stands alone, and it may
be doubted whether, during the many centuries which have passed away
since the era of Greek supremacy, any practical leader of men has ever
attained such a splendid position in the ranks of writers of military
history. Alexander appears, at any rate, to have been no historian,
but his staff of cultivated literary assistants and men of letters
included many notable Greek names.

Alexander crossed the Hellespont in the spring of the year 334 B.C.,
and first encountered the Persians near the Granikos River. The battle
was decisive although the losses on either side do not appear to have
been heavy. It was but the augury of what was to follow. The
subsequent advance of the Macedonian troops southward through the
lovely land of Iona, and the reduction of Miletus and Helikarnassos,
brought the first year's campaign to a close. The second year opened
with the conquest of Pamphyllia and Phrygia, the passage of the Tauros
ranges being made in winter. On the return of spring he recrossed the
Tauros and reduced the western hill-tribes of Kilikia. Part of his
force, meanwhile, had occupied the passes into Syria known as the
Syrian gates. Within two days march of the Syrian gates the Persian
hosts again were massed in an open plain under Darius, who had
advanced from the east, waiting to fall upon the Macedonian troops and
crush them as they debouched from the defile. Tired of waiting,
however, Darius moved forward into Kilikia by the Amanian passes to
look for Alexander, and thus it happened that when Alexander finally
emerged from the Syrian gates into the plains of Syria he found his
enemy behind him. He partially retraced his steps and regained the
pass by midnight, and there from one of the adjoining summits he
"beheld the Persian watch-fires gleaming far and wide over the plain
of Issos." The rapidity of Alexander's movements was only equalled by
the fierce energy of his onslaught when he led his cavalry against the
unwieldy formations of his Persian enemy. It was his own hand that
gained the victory both then and afterwards.

There is no more stirring story in all history than this progress of
the Macedonian force. Step by step it has been traced out from
Granikos to Issos and from Issos to Arbela; but this is not the place
to recapitulate that part of the story which applies only to Western
Asia. It is not until after the final decisive battle at Arbela, when
Darius fled in hot haste along the south-eastern road to Ecbatana, the
former capital of Media, and thence in the spring of 330 B.C.
retreated with a disorganized force and an intriguing court towards
Baktria, where he hoped to find a refuge with his kinsman Bessos the
satrap of that province, that we really touch on the subject with
which we wish to deal in this book, viz. the high-roads to Afghanistan
in those long past days. Alexander, meanwhile, had received the
submission of Babylon and restored the temple of Belus, and made
himself master of a more spacious empire than the world had yet seen.
It was then that the amazing results of his military success began to
turn his head. From this point the severe simplicity of the Macedonian
soldier is exchanged for the luxury, arrogance, and intolerance of the
despot and conqueror. As Alexander advanced in material strength so
did he slide down the easy descent of moral retrogression, and whilst
we can still admire his magnificence as a military leader we find
little else left to admire about him. From Babylon to the lovely
valley wherein lies Susa, and from Susa to Persepolis, was more or
less of a triumphal march in spite of the fierce opposition of the
satrap Artobaizanes. Of Persepolis we are taught to believe that
Alexander left nothing behind him but blackened ruins--the result of a
drunken orgy. During the winter, amidst snow and ice, he subdued the
Mardians in their mountain fastnesses (for he never left an active foe
on the flank or rear), and with the return of the sweet Persian spring
he renewed his hunt after Darius, turning his face to the north and
east.

There are two high-roads through Persia to the East--one leading to
Northern Afghanistan and the Oxus regions over Mashad, the other to
Kirman, Seistan, and Kandahar. Along both of them there now runs a
telegraph line connecting with the Russian system _via_ Mashad, and
the Indian system _via_ Kirman. They must always have been
high-roads--the great trade routes to Central Asia and India. Where
the orderly line of telegraph poles now stretches in unending
regularity to mark the dusty highway, there, through more ages than we
can count, the padded foot of the camel must have worn the road into
ridges and ruts as he plodded his weary way with loads of merchandise
and fodder. No geological evolution can have disturbed those tracks
since the Assyrian kings first drew riches from the East and started
colonies on the Baktrian highlands; they are now as they were 1000
years before Christ, and it is only natural that in the ordinary
course of the same unresting spirit of enterprise the telegraph posts
will sooner or later cast long shadows over a passing railway. The
desert regions of Persia separate these two roads: the wide flat
spaces of sand or "Kavir"; an unending procession of sand-hills on the
glittering fields of salt-bound swamp. The desert is crossable--it has
been fairly well exploited--but nothing so far has been found in it to
justify the expectation of great discoveries of dead and buried
cities, or traces of a former civilization such as once occupied the
deserts of Chinese Turkistan.

We may well believe that the central deserts of Persia were the same
in Alexander's time as they are in ours. Consequently any large
company of people would have been more or less forced into one or
other of the well-known routes which the geographical configuration of
the country presented to them. In his pursuit of Darius Alexander
followed the northern route to Baktria which strikes a little north of
east from Ecbatana (Hamadan), and in these days leads direct to Tehran
the modern capital of Persia. The tragical fate of Darius, and
Alexander's crocodile grief thereat, belongs to another story. It is
only when he touches the regions beyond Mashad that he figures as one
of the earliest explorers of Afghanistan, and certainly the earliest
of whom we have any certain record. Unfortunately these records say
very little of the nature of those cities and centres of human life
which he found on the Afghan border; nor is there any definite
allusion to be found in the writings of Alexander's historians to the
colonial occupation of Afghanistan which must have preceded the
Persian conquests. We have seen that Assyrian influence was strongly
and continuously felt in India for many centuries after the
consolidation of the Second Assyrian Empire, and the probability that
between the Tigris and the Oxus there must have been intercommunication
from the earliest days of the rise of Assyrian power.

There is one ragged and time-worn city in Afghan Turkistan which
certainly belongs to the centuries preceding the era of Alexander--it
was the capital of Baktria, the city of Bessos, and it has been a
great centre of commerce, a city of pilgrimage, Buddhist and
Mahomedan, for many a century since. This is Balkh, traditionally
known as the "Mother of cities," whose foundation is variously
ascribed to Nimrud, or to "Karomurs the Persian Romulus," Assyrian or
Persian as the fancy strikes the narrator. Of its extreme antiquity
there can be no doubt. It is certain that at a very early date it was
the rival of Ecbatana, of Nineveh, and of Babylon. Bricks with
inscriptions are said to have been found there some seventy years ago,
and similar bricks should certainly be there still. Officers of the
Russo-Afghan Boundary Commission passed through modern Balkh in 1884,
but no such bricks were found during the very cursory and entirely
superficial examination which was all that could be made of the place;
square bricks, without inscription, of the size and quality of those
which may any day be dug out of the Birs Nimrud at Babylon were
certainly found, and point to a similarity of construction in a part
of the ancient walls, which is surely not accidental. Modern Balkh
consists of about 500 houses of Afghan settlers, a colony of Jews, and
a small bazaar set in the midst of a waste of ruins and many acres of
debris. The walls of the city are 61/2 or 7 miles in perimeter; in some
places they are supported by a rampart like the walls of Herat. These,
of course, are modern, as is the fort and citadel, or Bala Hissar,
which stands on a mound to the north-east. The green cupola of the
Masjid Sabz and the arched entrance to the ruined Madrasa testify to
modern Mahomedan occupation, as do the Top-i-Rustam and the
Takht-i-Rustam (two ancient topes) to the fervour of religious zeal
with which its Buddhist inhabitants invested it in the early centuries
of our era. Balkh awaits its Layard, and not only Balkh, for there are
mounds and ruins innumerable scattered through the breadth of the
Balkh plain.

As one approaches Balkh by the Akcha road from the west, one looks
anxiously around for some outward signs of its extreme antiquity. They
are not altogether wanting, but time and the mellowing hand of Nature
have rounded off the edges of the mounds of debris which lie scattered
over miles of the surrounding country, brushing them over with the
fresh green of vegetation, and leaving no sign by which to judge of
the age of them. It is difficult in this part of Asia to get back
farther than the age of the great destroyer Chenghiz Khan. His time
has passed by long enough to leave but little evidence that the hand
of the destroyer was his hand; but probably nothing visible on the
surface dates back further than the six centuries which have come and
gone since his Mongol hordes were set loose. Beyond these surface
ruins and below them there must be cities arranged, as it were, in
underground flats, one piled on another, strata below strata, till we
reach the debris of the pre-Semitic days of Western and Central Asia,
when the Turanian races who supplied Arcadian civilization to
Mesopotamia peopled the land. Just as we cannot tell exactly when
Babylon first became a city, so are we confounded by the age of Balkh.
Babylon belongs to the time when myths were grouped around the
adventures of a solar hero. Ultimately, however, the Ca-dimissa of the
Accad became the Bab-ili (the "gate of God") of the Semite. It was
always the "gate of God," but whether the presiding deity was always
the Accadian Merodach seems doubtful. Fourteen or fifteen centuries
before Christ there was probably a Balkh as there was a Babylon; and
from time immemorial and a date unreckoned Balkh and Babylon must have
been the two great commercial centres of Asia. What a history to dig
out when its time shall come!

As the Akcha road leads into the city it passes the outer wall, which
is about 30 feet high, by a gateway which is frankly nothing more than
a gap in the partially destroyed wall. It then skirts along, past a
ziarat gay with red flags, to a gateway in the second wall under the
citadel leading to an avenue of poplars ending with a garden. Here is
a pretentious and fairly comfortable caravanserai, facing a court
which is shaded by magnificent plane trees. At first sight Balkh
appears to consist of nothing but ruins, but ascending the mound,
which is surrounded by the dilapidated fort walls, one can see from
this vantage of about 70 feet how many new buildings are grouped round
the remnants of the old Mahomedan mosque, of which the dome and one
great gateway are all that is left.

The plain of the ancient Baktria, of which Balkh represents the
capital, lies south of the Oxus River, extending east and west for
some 200 miles parallel to the river after its debouchment from the
mountains of Badakshan. It is flat, with a scattering of prominences
and mounds at intervals denoting the site of some village or fortress
of sufficient antiquity to account for its gradual rise on the
accumulations of its own debris, probably assisted in the first
instance by some topographical feature. Looking south it appears to be
flanked by a flat blue wall of hills, presenting no opportunity for
escalade or passage through them, a blue level line of counterscarp,
which is locally known as the Elburz. This great flanking wall is in
reality very nearly what it appears to be--an unassailable rampart;
but there are narrow ways intersecting it not easily discernible, and
through these ways the rivers of the highlands make a rough passage to
the plains. Wherever they tumble through the mountain gateways and
make placid tracks in the flats below, they are utilized for
irrigation purposes, and so there exists a narrow fringe of
cultivation under the hills, which extends here and there along the
banks of the rivers out into the open Balkh plain. But these rivers
never reach the Oxus. This is not merely because the waters of them
are absorbed in irrigation, but because there is a well-ascertained
tectonic action at work which is slowly raising the level of the
plain. Thus it happens that whilst big affluents from the north bring
rushing streams of much silt-stained water to the great river, no such
affluents exist on the south. The waters of the Elburz streams are all
lost in the Oxus plain ere they reach the river. Nevertheless there
are abundant evidences of the former existence of a vast irrigation
system drawn from the Oxus. The same lines of level mounds which break
the horizon of the plains of Babylon are to be seen here, and they
denote the same thing. They are the containing walls of canals which
carried the Oxus waters through hundreds of square miles of flat
plain, where they never can be carried again because of the alteration
in the respective levels of plain and river. Ten centuries before
Christ, at least, were the plains of Babylon thus irrigated, and just
as the arts of Greece and India rose on the ashes of the arts of
Nineveh, so doubtless was the science of irrigation carried into the
colonial field of Baktria from Assyria, and thus was the city of
"Nimrud" surrounded with a wealth of cultivation which rendered it
famous through Asia for more centuries than we can tell. Whether or no
the science of irrigation drifted eastwards from the west it seems
more than probable that the ruined and decayed water-ways which
intersect the Balkh plain were primarily due to the introduction of
Syrian labour, and account for the presence in that historic region of
a people amongst others who claim descent from captive Israelites.
There are no practical irrigation engineers in the world (excepting
perhaps the Chinese) who can rival the Afghans in their knowledge of
how to make water flow where water never flowed before. It is of
course impossible, on such evidence as we possess as yet, to claim
more than the appearance of a probability based on such an undeniable
possibility as this.

After the death of Darius his kinsman Bessos escaped into his own
satrapy (probably to Balkh), and there assumed the upright tiara, the
emblem of Persian royalty, taking at the same time the name of
Artaxerxes.

True to his invariable principle of leaving no unbeaten enemy on the
flank of his advance, Alexander proceeded to subjugate Hyrkania, from
which country he was separated by the Elburz (Persian) mountains. He
crossed those mountains in three divisions by separate passes, and
effected his purpose with his usual thoroughness and without much
difficulty. Having crushed the Mardians he shaped a straight course
eastward to Herat on his way to Baktria, marching by the great highway
which connects Tehran with Mashad. The country around Mashad (part of
Khorasan) was a satrapy of Persia under Satibarzanes, who submitted
without apparent opposition and was confirmed in his government. The
capital of this province was Artakoana, described as a city situated
in a plain of exceptional fertility where the main roads from north to
south and from west to east crossed each other. To no place does such
a description apply so closely as Herat, and it has consequently been
assumed that Herat indicates more or less closely the site of the
ancient city Artakoana, which, indeed, is most probable. But Alexander
had not long passed that city in his march towards Baktria when the
news of the revolt of Satibarzanes reached him with the story of the
loss of the Macedonian escort which had been left with that satrap and
had been massacred to a man. He immediately turned on his tracks,
captured Artakoana, routed the satrap, and by way of leaving a
permanent monument of his victory founded a new city in the
neighbourhood which he called Alexandreia. This is probably the actual
origin of the modern Herat, and it is a tribute to the sagacity of the
Macedonian King that from that time to this it has abundantly proved
its importance as a strategical and commercial centre.

The forward march to Baktria would have taken the Greek army via
Kushk, Maruchak, and Maimana along the route which is practically the
easiest and safest for a large body of troops. It is the route
followed by the Afghan Boundary Commission in 1885. Alexander,
however, instead of resuming his march on Baktria, elected to crush
another of the Persian satraps who was concerned in the murder of
Darius and who ruled a province to the south of Herat. Crossing the
Hari Rud he therefore marched straight on Farah (Prophthasia), then
the capital of Seistan (Drangiana). Farah is considerably to the north
of any part of the Afghan province of Seistan at present, but it was
undoubtedly Alexander's objective, and the Drangiana of those times
was considerably more extensive than the Seistan of to-day--a fact
which will go some way to account for the exaggerated reports of the
ancient wealth and fertility of that province. Farah is a great
agricultural centre still, and would add enormously to the restricted
cultivable area of Seistan, even if one allows for the effects of sand
encroachment in that unpleasant region. Then occurred the plot against
Alexander's life which was detected at Prophthasia, and the consequent
torture and death of Philotas, who probably had no part in it. It is
one of the many actions of Alexander's life which reveals the ferocity
of the barbarian beneath the genius of the soldier. It was but the
barbarity of his age--a barbarity for the matter of that which lasted
in England till the time of the Georges, and which still survives in
Afghanistan. After a halt in Seistan, probably whilst waiting for
reinforcements, he struck north-eastwards again for Baktria. As it is
generally assumed that the Macedonian force now followed the Helmund
valley route to the Paropamisos, _i.e._ the Hindu Kush and its
extension westwards, it is as well to consider what sort of a country
it is that forms the basin of Helmund.

It is worth remarking in the first place that the Ariaspian
inhabitants of the Helmund valley had received from Cyrus the name of
Euergetai, or benefactors, because they had assisted him at a time
when he had been in great difficulties. This is enough to satisfy us
that the district was known and had been traversed by a military force
long before Alexander entered it, and that he was making no
venturesome advance in ignorance of what lay before him. The valley of
the Helmund (or Etymander) could not have differed greatly in its
geographical features 300 years before Christ from its present
characteristics. The Helmund of the Seistan basin then occupied a
different channel to its present outlets into the Seistan swamps. How
different it is difficult to tell, for it has frequently changed its
course within historic times, silting up its bed and striking out a
new channel for itself, splitting into a number of streams and
wandering uncontrolled in loops or curves over the face of the flat
alluvial plains to which it brought fertility and wealth. It has been
a perpetual source of political discussion as a boundary between
Afghanistan and Persia, and it has altered the face of the land so
extensively and so often that there is nothing in ancient history
referring to the vast extent of agricultural wealth and the immensity
of its population which can be proved to be impossible, although it
seems likely enough that false inferences have been drawn from the
widespread area of ruined and deserted towns and villages which are
still to be seen and may almost be counted. It is not only that the
water-supply and facilities for irrigation, by shifting their
geographical position, have carried with them the potentialities for
cultivation. Other forces of Nature which seem to be set loose on
Seistan with peculiar virulence and activity have also been at work.
The sweeping blasts of the north-west wind, which rage through this
part of Asia with a strength and persistence unknown in regions more
protected by topographical features, carrying with them vast volumes
of sand and surface detritus, piling up smooth slopes to the windward
side of every obstruction, smoothing off the rough angles of the gaunt
bones of departed buildings, and sometimes positively wearing them
away by the force of attrition, play an important part in the
kaleidoscopic changes of Seistan landscape. Villages that are
flourishing one year may be sand-buried the next. Channels that now
run free with crop-raising water may be choked in a month, and all
the while the great Helmund, curving northward in its course, pours
down its steady volume of silt from the highlands, carrying tons of
detritus into open plains where it is spread out, sun-baked, dried,
wind-blown, and swirled back again to the southward in everlasting
movement. Thus it is that the evidence of hundreds of square miles of
ruins is no direct evidence of an immense population at any one
period. Nor can we say of this great alluvial basin, which is by turns
a smiling oasis, a pestilential swamp, a huge spread of populous
villages, or a howling desert smitten with a wind which becomes a
curse and afflicted with many of the pests and plagues of ancient
Egypt, that at any one period of its history more than another it
deserved the appellation of the "granary of Asia." The Helmund of
Seistan, however, is quite a different Helmund from the same river
nearer its source. Its character changes from the point where it makes
its great bend northward towards its final exit into the lagoons and
swamps of the Hamun. At Chaharburjak, where the high-road to Seistan
from the south crosses the river into Afghan territory, the Helmund is
a wide rippling stream (when not in flood), distinguished, if
anything, for the clearness of its waters. From this point eastwards
it parts two deserts. To the north the great, flat, windswept
Dasht-i-Margo, about as desolate and arid a region as fancy could
depict. To the south the desert of Baluchistan, by no means so
absolutely devoid of interest, with its marshalled sand-dunes
answering to the processes of the winds, its isolated but picturesque
peaks like islands in a sand sea, a few green spots here and there
showing where water oozes out from the buried feet of the rocky hills,
decorated with bunches of flowering tamarisk and perchance a palm or
two--a modified desert, but still a desert. Between the two deserts is
the Helmund, running in a cliff-sided trough which is never more than
a mile or two wide, intensely green and bright in the grass and crop
season, with flourishing villages at reasonable intervals and a
high-road connecting them from which can be counted that strange
multitude of departed cities of the old Kaiani Kingdom, which are
marked by a ragged crop of ruins still upstanding in a weird sort of
procession. Sometimes the high-road sweeps right into the midst of a
roofless palace, through the very walls of the ancient building, and
outside may be found spaces brushed clean by the wind leaving masses
of pottery, glass, and other common debris exposed.

One constant surprise to modern explorers is the extraordinary
quantity of domestic crockery the remains of which surround old
eastern cities; and almost yet more of a surprise it is how far and
how widespread are certain easily recognized specialities, such, for
instance, as the so-called "celadon." Chips and fragments of celadon
are to be found from Babylon to Seistan, from Seistan to India, in
Afghanistan, Kashmir, Burma, Siam. In Siam are all that remains of
what were probably the original furnaces. Every shower of rain that
falls in this extended cemetery of crumbling monuments reveals small
treasures in the way of rings, coins, seals, etc. Much of the
cultivation and of the extent of population indicated by the ruins in
this narrow valley must have existed in the times of Alexander of
Macedon and the Ariaspians, and we find no difficulty in accepting the
Helmund (or Etymander) as the line of route which he followed for a
certain distance. Indeed, there is much more than a passing
probability that he followed the line which gave him water and
supplies as far as the junction of the Argandab and Helmund, for the
problem of crossing the desert from the Helmund valley to Nushki and
the cultivated districts of Kalat is a serious one--one, indeed, which
gave the Russo-Afghan Boundary Commissioners much anxious thought. But
beyond the Argandab junction it is extremely improbable that Alexander
followed the Helmund. The Helmund and its surroundings have been
carefully surveyed from this point through the turbulent districts of
Zamindawar for 100 miles or more, and again from its source near Kabul
for some fifty miles of its downward flow. The Zamindawar section of
the river affords an open road, although the river, as we follow it
upward, gradually becomes enclosed in comparatively narrow (yet still
fertile) valleys, and rapidly assumes the character of a mountain
stream. North of Zamindawar and south of its exit from the Koh-i-Baba
mountain system to the west of Kabul, no modern explorer has ever seen
the Helmund. It there passes through the Hazara highlands, and
although we have not penetrated that rugged plateau we know very well
its character by repute, and we have seen similar country to the west
where dwell cognate tribes--the Taimani and the Firozkohi. This upland
basin of the Helmund to the west of Kabul and Ghazni, this cradle of a
hundred affluents pouring down ice-cold water to the river, is but a
huge extension southwards of the Hindu Kush, and from it emerge many
of the great rivers of Afghanistan. To the north the rivers of Balkh
and Khulm take a hurried start for the Oxus plains. Westward the Hari
Rud streams off to Herat. South-westward extends the long curving line
of the Helmund, and eastward flow the young branches of the Kabul. A
rugged mountain mass called the Koh-i-Baba, the lineal continuation of
the Hindu Kush, dominates the rolling plateau from the north and
continues westward in an almost unbroken wall to the Band-i-Baian
looking down into the narrow Hari Rud valley. It is a part of the
continental divide of Asia, high, rugged, desolate, and almost
pathless.

No matter from which side the toiler of the mountains approaches this
elevated and desolate region, whether emerging from the Herat
drainage he essays to reach Kabul, or from the small affluents of the
Helmund he strikes for the one gap which exists between the Hindu Kush
and the Koh-i-Baba which will lead him to Balkh and Afghan Turkistan,
he will have enormous difficulties to encounter. It can be done,
truly, but only with the pains and penalties of high mountaineering
attached. Taken as a whole, the highest uplands above the sources of
the minor rivers which water the bright and fertile valleys of Ghur,
Zamindawar, and Farah may be described much as one would describe
Tibet--a rolling, heaving, desolate tableland, wrinkled and
intersected by narrow mountain ranges, whose peaks run to 13,000 and
14,000 feet in altitude, enclosing between them restricted spaces of
pasture land. The Mongol population, who claim to have been introduced
as military settlers by Chenghiz Khan, live a life of hard privation.
They leave their barren wastes which the wind wipes clear of any tree
growth, for the lower valleys in the winter months, merely resorting
to them in the time of summer pasturage. The winter is long and
severe. It is not the altitude alone which is accountable for its
severity; it is the geographical position of this Central Afghan
upheaval which exposes it to the full blast of the ice-borne northern
winds which, sweeping across Turkistan with destructive energy, reduce
the atmosphere of Seistan to a sand-laden fog, and penetrate even to
the valley of the Indus where for days together they wrap the whole
landscape in a dusty haze. For many months the Hazara highlands are
buried under successive sheets of snowdrift. In summer, like the
Pamirs, they emerge from their winter's sleep and become a succession
of grass-covered downs. There are then open ways across them, and
travellers may pass by many recognizable tracks. But in winter they
are impassable to man and beast. Yet we are asked to believe that
Alexander, who had the best of guides in his pay, and who knew the
highways and byways of Asia as well, if not better, than they are
known now to any military authorities, took his army _in winter_ up
the Helmund valley till it struck its sources somewhere under the
Koh-i-Baba!

There was no madness in Alexander's methods. His withdrawal from India
through the defiles and deserts of Makran was most venturesome and
most disastrous, but he had a distinct object to gain by the attempt
to pass into Persia that way. Here there was no object. The Helmund
route does not, and did not, lead directly to his objective, Baktria,
and there was another high-road always open, which must have been as
well known then as, indeed, it is well known to-day. There can be very
little doubt that he followed the Argandab to the neighbourhood of the
modern Kandahar (in Arachosia), and from Kandahar to Kabul he took the
same historic straight high-road which was followed by a later
General (Lord Roberts) when he marched from Kabul to Kandahar. This
would give him quite difficulties enough in winter to account for
Arrian's story of cold and privations. It would lead him direct to the
plains of the Kohistan north of Kabul, where there must have ever been
the opportunity of collecting supplies for his force, and where,
separated from him by the ridges of the Hindu Kush, were planted those
Greek colonies of Darius Hystaspes whose assistance might prove
invaluable to his onward movement. It was here, at any rate, not far
from the picturesque village of Charikar, that he founded that city of
Alexandreia, the remains of which appear to have been recently
disturbed by the Amir, and to which we shall make further reference.
Military text-books still speak of the Unai, or Bamian, as a pass
which was traversed by the Greeks. It is most improbable that they
ever crossed the Hindu Kush that way, and the question obviously
arises in connection with this theory of his march--How was it
possible for Alexander to spend the rest of the winter near the
sources of the Helmund? It was not possible. His next step was to
cross the Hindu Kush. This he attempted with difficulty in the spring,
and reached a fertile country in fifteen days. He might have crossed
by the Kaoshan Pass (which local tradition assigns as the pass which
he really selected), or by the Panjshir, which is longer, but in some
respects easier. The Panjshir is the pass usually adopted for the
passage of large bodies of troops by the Afghans themselves, and there
is reported to be, in these days, a well-engineered Khafila road,
which is kept open by forced labour in snow-time, connecting Kabul
with Andarab by this route. The pass of the Panjshir is about 11,600
feet high, whereas the Kaoshan, though straighter, is 14,300.
Considering the slow rate of movement (fifteen days) it is more
probable that he took the easier route _via_ Panjshir. In either case
he would reach the beautiful and fertile valley of Andarab, and from
that base he could move freely into Baktria. The country had been
ravaged and wasted by Bessos, but that did not delay Alexander. The
chief cities of Baktria surrendered without opposition, and he pushed
forward to the Oxus in his pursuit of Bessos.

All this would be more interesting if we could trace the route more
closely which was followed to the Oxus. We know, however, that for
previous centuries Balkh had been the capital city, the great trade
emporium of all that region. There is therefore no difficulty in
accepting Balkh as the Greek Baktria. Between Balkh and the Oxus the
plains are strewn with ruins, some of them of vast extent, whilst
other evidences of former townships are to be found about Khulm and
Tashkurghan farther to the east, and on the direct route from Andarab
to the Oxus. Bessos had retreated to Sogdiana of which Marakanda was
capital, and the straight road to Marakanda (Samarkand) crosses the
Oxus at Kilif. The description of the river Oxus at that point tallies
fairly well with Arrian's account of it. It is deep and rapid, and the
hill fortress of Kilif on the right bank, and of Dev Kala and other
isolated rocky hills on the left, hedges in the river to a channel
which cannot have changed through long ages. Elsewhere the Oxus is
peculiarly liable to shift its channel, and has done so from time to
time, forming new islands, taking fresh curves, and actually changing
its destination from the Caspian to the Aral Sea; but at Kilif it must
have ever been deep and rapid, covering a breadth of about
three-quarters of a mile. Across the breadth nowadays is about as
peculiar a ferry as was ever devised. Long, shallow, flat-bottomed
boats, square as to bow and stern, are towed from side to side of the
river by swimming horses. This would not be a matter of so much
surprise if the horses employed for the purpose were powerful animals
from fourteen to fifteen hands in height, but the remarkable feature
about the Kilif stud is the diminutive and ragged crew of underfed
ponies which it produces. And yet two, or even one, of these
inefficient-looking little animals will tow across a barge of twenty
feet or so in length, crowded with weighty bales of Bokhara
merchandise, and filled as to interstices with its owners and their
servants. The ponies are attached to outriggers with a strap from a
surcingle or belly-band buckled to their backs, thus supporting their
weight in the water at the same time that it takes the haulage. With
their heads just above stream, snorting and blowing, they swim with
measured strokes and tow the boat (advancing diagonally in crab-like
fashion to meet the current) straight across the river. The inadequacy
of the means to the end is the first thing which strikes the beholder,
but he is, however, rapidly convinced of the extraordinary hauling
capacity of a swimming horse when properly trained. Alexander crossed
on rafts supported on skins stuffed with straw, and it took him five
days to cross his force in this primitive fashion.

On the right bank of the river, Bessos was given up by traitors in his
camp and was sent south to "Zariaspa" to await his doom. Zariaspa is
identified with Balkh by some authorities, but the name is probably a
variant on Adraspa which almost certainly was Andarab. Andarab was the
fertile and promising district into which Alexander descended from the
slopes of the Hindu Kush, by whichever route (Kaoshan or Panjshir) he
crossed those mountains. Directly on the route between Andarab and
Balkh is a minor province called Baglan, and a little less than
half-way (after crossing a local pass of no great significance called
Kotal Murgh) is a village or township, nowadays called Zardaspan,
which is sufficiently like Zariaspa to suggest an identity which is at
least plausible though it may be deceptive. But it is the fact that
the town of Baraki which lies farther on the same route is on the
outskirts of Baglan; and in this connection a reference to the theory
put forward by Dr. Bellew in his _Ethnography of Afghanistan_
(_Asiatic Quarterly_, October 1891) is at least interesting. He points
out that the captive Greeks who were transported in the sixth century
B.C. by Darius Hystaspes from the Lybian Barke to Baktrian territory
were still occupying a village called Barke in the time of Herodotus.
A century later again during the Macedonian campaign, Kyrenes, or
Kyreneans, existed in that region according to Arrian, and it is
difficult to account for them in that part of Asia unless they were
the descendants of those same exiles from Barke, a colony of Kyrene
whom Darius originally transported to Baktria. They were in possession
of the Kaoshan Pass too, and might have rendered very effective aid to
Alexander during his passage across the mountains. Another body of
Greek colonists are recorded to have been settled in this same part of
Baktria by Xerxes after his flight from Greece, namely, the
Brankhidai, whose original settlement appears to have been in Andarab.
As we shall see later, people from Greece or from Grecian colonies
undoubtedly drifted across Asia to Northern Afghanistan in even
earlier times than those of the Persian Empire. There can, indeed, be
very little doubt that Ariaspa, or Andarab, was an important position
for the Greeks to occupy from its strategic value as commanding the
most practicable of the Hindu Kush passes.

When Bessos, therefore, was deported across the Oxus to Zariaspa it is
probable that he was sent to Andarab; and here too Alexander returned
to winter towards the close of the year 329 B.C. after his
extraordinary success in Sogdia (Bokhara). With his trans-Oxus
campaign we have nothing to do; it is another history, and deeply
interesting as it would be to follow it in detail we must return to
Afghanistan. Nothing in all his Eastern campaign is more remarkable
than the facility with which Alexander recruited his army from Greece
during its progress. Gaps in the ranks were constantly filled up, and
the fighting strength of his force maintained at a high level. His
army was reorganized during the winter, and with the returning spring
he again started expeditions across the Oxus, in the course of which
he captured Roxana, the most beautiful woman in Asia (after the wife
of Darius) and married her. The particular fortress which held this
charming lady was perched on the top of an isolated craggy hill, and
the story of its capture is as thrilling as that of Aornos
subsequently. But, like Aornos, it is difficult to locate it. It might
have been Dev Kala, or Kilif, or any of a dozen such rock-crowned
hills which border the Oxus River. It is about this period that we
read first of his encounters with the Skythic races of Central Asia,
who gave him great trouble at the time and who subsequently subverted
the Greek power in Baktria altogether. In the spring of 327 B.C. he
moved out to invade a mountain district to the "East of Baktria"
(probably modern Badakshan), and subdued the hill-tribes under
Khorienes whom he confirmed in the government of his own country. It
was summer ere he set out finally from Baktria on his Indian
expedition. He recrossed the Paropamisos in ten days and halted at
Alexandreia near Charikar. Then commences the first recorded
expedition of the Kabul River basin.




CHAPTER IV

GREEK EXPLORATION--ALEXANDER--THE KABUL VALLEY TO THE INDUS


Alexander passed the next winter at the city of his own founding,
Alexandreia, in the Koh Daman to the north of Kabul. And from thence
in two divisions he started for the Indus, sending the main body of
his troops by the most direct route, with Taxila (the capital of the
Upper Punjab) for its objective, and himself with lighter brigades
specially organized to subdue certain tribes on the northern flank of
the route who certainly would imperil the security of his line of
communication if left alone. This was his invariable custom, and it
was greatly owing to the completeness with which these flanking
expeditions were carried out that he was able to keep open his
connection with Greece. There have been discussions as to the route
which he followed. Hyphaestion, in command of the main body,
undoubtedly followed the main route which would take him most directly
to the plains of the Punjab, which route is sufficiently well
indicated in these days as the "Khaibar." We hear very little
about his march eastwards.

  [Illustration: SKETCH MAP OF ALEXANDER'S ROUTE]

In the days preceding the use of fire-arms the march of a body of
troops through defiles such as the Khurd Kabul or the Jagdallak was
comparatively simple. So far from such defiles serving as traps
wherein to catch an enemy unawares and destroy him from the cliffs and
hills on either side, these same cliffs and hills served rather as a
protection. The mere rolling down of stones would not do much
mischief, even if they could be rolled down effectively, which is not
usually the case; and in hand-to-hand encounters the tribespeople were
no match for the armoured Greeks. Alexander's operations would
preserve his force from molestation on its northern flank, and the
rugged ridges and spread of desolate hill-slopes presented by the
Safed Koh and other ranges on the south has never afforded suitable
ground for the collection of fighting bodies of men in any great
strength. General Stewart marched his force from Kabul to Peshawur in
1880 with his southern flank similarly unprotected with the same
successful result, his movements being so timed as to give no
opportunity for a gathering of the Ghilzai clans. On the northern
flank of the Khaibar route, however, there had been large tribal
settlements from the very beginning of things, and it was most
important that these outliers should feel the weight of Alexander's
mailed fist if the road between Kabul and the Indus were ever to be
made secure. He accordingly directed his attention to a more northerly
route to India which would bring him into contact with the Aspasians,
Gauraians, and Assakenians.

We need not follow the ethnologists who identify these people with
certain tribes now existing with analogous names. There may very
possibly be remnants of them still, but they are not to be identified.
They obviously occupied the open cultivable valleys and alluvial
spaces which are interspersed amongst the mountains of the Kabul River
basin, the Kohistan and Kafiristan of modern maps. The Gauraians
certainly were the people of the Panjkora valley, and there is no
difficulty in assigning to the Aspasians the first great fertile tract
of open valley which would be encountered on the way eastwards. This
is Laghman (or Lamghan) with its noble reach of the Kabul River
meeting a snow-fed affluent, the Alingar, from the Kafir hills. There
is, indeed, no geographical alternative. Similarly with even a cursory
knowledge of the actual geographical conformation of the country, it
is impossible to imagine that Alexander would choose any other route
from Alexandreia towards Laghman than that which carries him past
Kabul. The Koh Daman (the skirts of the hills) which intervene between
Alexandreia (or Bagram) and Kabul is one of the gardens of
Afghanistan. There one may wander in the sweet springtide amidst the
curves and folds of an undulating land, neither hill nor plain, with
the scent of the flowering willow in the air, and the rankness of a
spring growth of flower and grass bordering narrow runlets and
irrigation channels; an unwinking blue above and a varied carpet
beneath, whilst the song of the labourer rises from fields and
orchards. Westward are the craggy outlines of Paghman (a noble
offshoot of the Hindu Kush hiding the loveliness of the Ghorband
valley behind it), down whose scarred and wrinkled ribs slide
waterfalls and streams to gladden the plain. Piled up on steep and
broken banks from the very foot of the mountains are scattered
white-walled villages, and it is here that you may find later in the
year the best fruit in Afghanistan.

In November a gentle haze rests in soft indecision upon the
dust-coloured landscape--heavier and bluer over the low-lying fields
from which all vegetation has been lifted, lighter and edged with
filmy skirts where it rises from the sun-warmed brow of the hills. It
is a different world from the world of spring--all utterly
sad-coloured and dust-laden; but it is then that the troops and
strings of fruit-laden donkeys take their leisurely way towards the
city, where are open shops facing the narrow shadowed streets with
golden bulwarks of fruit piled from floor to roof. A narrow band of
rugged hills shuts off this lovely plain on the east from the only
valley route which could possibly present itself to an inexperienced
eye as an outlet from the Charikar region to the Kabul River bed, ere
it is lost in the dark defiles leading to the Laghman valley. The
hills are red in the waning light, and when the snow first lays its
lacework shroud over them in network patches they are inexpressibly
beautiful. But they are also inexpressibly rough and impracticable,
and the valley beyond is but a walled-in boulder-strewn trough, which
no general in his senses would select for a military high-road.
Alexander certainly did not march that way; he went to where Kabul is,
and there, at the city of Nikaia, he made sacrifice to the goddess
Athena. If Nikaia was not the modern Kabul it must have been very near
it. Does not Nonnus tell us that it was a stone city near a lake?
There is but one lake in the Kabul valley, and it is that at Wazirabad
close to the city. It is usual to regard Nonnus as a most
untrustworthy authority, but here for once he seems to have wandered
into the straight and narrow path of truth. So far there can be no
reasonable doubt about the direction of this great Pioneer's
explorations in Afghanistan. Beyond this, once again, we prefer to
trust to the known geographical distribution of hill and valley, and
the opportunities presented by physical features of the country,
rather than to any doubtful resemblance between ancient and modern
place, or tribal, names, for determining the successive actions of the
expedition. After the summons to Taxiles, chief of Taxila (itself the
chief city of the Upper Punjab), and the satisfactory reply thereto,
there was nothing to disturb the even course of Alexander's onward
movements but the activity of the mountain tribespeople who flanked
the line of route.

The valley of Laghman must always have been a populous valley. From
the north the snow-capped peaks of Kafiristan look down upon it, and
from among the forest-clad valleys at the foot of these peaks two
important river systems take their rise, the Alingar and the Alishang,
which, uniting, join the Kabul River in the flat plain, where villages
now crowd in and dispute each acre of productive soil. It is difficult
to reach the Laghman valley from the west. The defiles of the Kabul
River are here impassable, but they can be turned by mountain routes,
and Alexander's force, which included the Hyspaspists, who were
comparatively lightly armed, with the archers, the "companion" cavalry
and the lancers, was evidently picked for mountain warfare. The
heavier brigades were with Hyphaestion who struck out by the
straightest route for Peukelaotis, which has been identified with an
ancient site about 17 miles to the north-east of Peshawur on the
eastern bank of the Swat River, and was then the capital of the
ancient Gandhara. We are told that Alexander's route was rugged and
hilly, and lay along the course of the river called Khoes. Rugged and
hilly it certainly was, but the Khoes presents a difficulty. He could
not actually follow the course of the Kabul River (Kophen) from the
Kabul plain because of the defiles, but he could have followed that
river below Butkak to the western entrance of the Laghman valley where
it unites with the Alingar, or Kao, River. It is impossible to admit
that he reached the Kao River after crossing the Kohistan and
Kafiristan, and then descended that river to its junction with the
Kabul. No cavalry could have performed such a feat. Geographical
conditions compel us to assume that he followed the Kabul River, which
is sometimes called Kao above the junction of the Kao River.

It is far more impossible to identify the actual sites of Alexander's
first military engagements than it is to say, for instance, at this
period of history, where Caesar landed in Great Britain, as we have no
means of making exhaustive local inquiries; but subsequent history
clearly indicates that his next step after settling the Laghman tribes
was to push on to the valley of the Choaspes, or Kunar. It was in the
Kunar valley that he found and defeated the chief of the Aspasians.
The Kunar River is by far the most important of the northern
tributaries of the Kabul. It rises under the Pamirs and is otherwise
known as the Chitral River. The Kunar valley is amongst the most
lovely of the many lovely valleys of Afghanistan. Flanked by the
snowy-capped mountains of Kashmund on the west, and the long level
water parting which divides it from Bajaor and the Panjkora drainage
on the east, it appears, as one enters it from Jalalabad, to be hemmed
in and constricted. The gates of it are indeed somewhat narrow, but it
widens out northward, where the ridges of the lofty Kashmund tail off
into low altitudes of sweeping foothills a few miles above the
entrance, and here offer opportunity for an easy pass across the
divide from the west into the valley. This is a link in the oldest and
probably the best trodden route from Kabul to the Punjab, and it has
no part with the Khaibar. It links together these northern valleys of
Laghman, Kunar, and Lundai (_i.e._ the Panjkora and Swat united) by a
road north of the Kabul, finally passing southwards into the plains
chequered by the river network above Peshawur.

The lower Kunar valley in the early autumn is passing beautiful. Down
the tawny plain and backed by purple hills the river winds its way,
reflecting the azure sky with pure turquoise colour--the opaque blue
of silted water--blinking and winking with tiny sun shafts, and
running emerald green at the edges. Sharp perpendicular columns of
black break the landscape in ordered groups. These are the cypresses
which still adorn in stately rows the archaic gardens of townlets
which once were townships. The clustering villages are thick in some
parts--so thick that they jostle each other continuously. There is
nothing of the drab Punjab about these villages. They are
white-walled and outwardly clean, and in at least one ancient garden
there is a fair imitation of a Kashmir pavilion set at the end of a
white eye-blinding pathway, leading straight and stiff between rows of
cypress, and blotched in spring with inky splashes of fallen
mulberries. The scent of orange blossoms was around when we were
there, luscious and overpowering. It was the oppressive atmosphere of
the typical, sensuous East, and the free, fresh air from the river
outside the mud walls of that jealously-guarded estate was greatly
refreshing when we climbed out of the gardens. All this part of the
river must have been attractive to settlers even in Alexander's time,
and it requires no effort of imagination to suppose that it was here
that his second series of actions took place. Higher up the river the
valley closes, until, long before Chitral is reached, it narrows
exceedingly. Here, in the north, the northern winds rage down the
funnel with bitter fury and make life burdensome. The villages take to
the hill-slopes or cluster in patches on the flat terraces at their
foot. The revetted wall of small hillside fields outline the spurs in
continuous bands of pasture, and at intervals quaint colonies of huts
cling to the hills and seem ready to slither down into the wild rush
of the river below. Such as a whole is the Kunar valley, which,
centuries after Alexander had passed across it, was occupied by Kafir
tribes who may have succeeded the Aspasian peoples, or who may indeed
represent them. All the wild mountain districts west of the Kunar are
held by Kafirs still, and there is nothing remarkable in the fact
(which we shall see later on) that just to the east of the Kunar
valley Alexander found a people claiming the same origin there that
the Kafirs of Kashmund and Bashgol claim now.

It was during the fighting in the Kunar valley that we hear so much of
that brilliant young leader Ptolemy, the son of Lagos, who was then
shaping his career for a Royal destiny in Egypt. With all the
thrilling incidents of the actual combat we have no space to deal, and
much as they would serve to lighten the prosaic tale of the progress
of Alexander's explorations, we must reluctantly leave them to Arrian
and the Greek historians. We are told that after the Kunar valley
action Alexander crossed the mountains and came to a city at their
base called Arigaion. Assuming that he crossed the Kunar watershed by
the Spinasuka Pass, which leads direct from Pashat (the present
capital of Kunar) into Bajaor, he would be close to Nawagai, the
present chief town of Bajaor. Arigaion would therefore be not far from
Nawagai. The place was burnt down; but recognizing the strategic
importance of the position, he left Krateros to fortify it and make it
the residence not only of such tribespeople as chose to return to
their houses, but also of such of his own soldiers as were unfit for
further service. This seems to have been his invariable custom, and
accounts for the traditions of Greek origin which we still find so
common in the north-western borderland of India. The story of this
part of his expedition reads almost as if it were journalistic. Then,
as now, the tribesmen took to the hills. Then, as now, their position
and approximate numbers could be ascertained by their camp-fires at
night. Ptolemy was intelligence officer and conducted the
reconnaissance, and on his report the plan of attack was arranged.
This was probably the most considerable action fought by Alexander in
the hills north of India. The conflict was sharp but decisive, and the
Aspasians, who had taken up their position on a hill, were utterly
routed. According to Ptolemy 40,000 prisoners and 230,000 oxen were
taken, and the fact that the pick of the oxen were sent to Macedonia
to improve the breed there shows how complete was the line of
communication between Greece and Upper India. The next tribe to be
dealt with were the Assakenians, and to reach them it was necessary to
cross the Gauraios, or Panjkora, which was deep, swift as to current,
and full of boulders. As we find no mention in Arrian's history of the
passage of the Suastos (Swat River) following on that of the Gauraios,
we must conclude that Alexander crossed the Panjkora _below_ its
junction with the Swat, where the river being much enclosed by hills
would certainly afford a most difficult passage. There are other
reasons which tend to confirm this view.

The next important action which took place was the siege and capture
of the city called Massaga, which was only taken after four days'
severe fighting, during which Alexander was wounded in the foot by an
arrow. M'Crindle[1] quotes the various names given in Sanscrit and
Latin literature, and agrees with Rennel in adopting the site of
Mashanagar, mentioned by the Emperor Baber in his memoirs as lying two
marches from Bajaor on the river Swat, as representing Massaga. M.
Court heard from the Yasufzais of Swat that there was a place called
by the double name of Mashkine and Massanagar 24 miles from Bajaor. It
is not to be found now, but there is in the survey maps a place on the
Swat River about that distance from Nawagai (the chief town in Bajaor)
called Matkanai, close to the Malakand Pass, and this is no doubt the
place referred to. It is very difficult even in these days to get a
really authoritative spelling for place-names beyond, or even within,
the British Indian border; and as these surveys were made during the
progress of the Tirah expedition when the whole country was armed,
such information as could be obtained was often unusually sketchy. If
this is the site of Massaga it would be directly on the line of
Alexander's route from Nawagai eastwards, as he rounded the spurs of
the Koh-i-Mor which he left to the north of him, and struck the
Panjkora some miles below its junction with the Swat. There can be
little doubt that it was near this spot that the historic siege took
place. His next objective were two cities called Ora and Bazira, which
were obviously close together and interdependent. Cunningham places
the position of Bazira, at the town of Rustam (on the Kalapani River),
which is itself built on a very extensive old mound and represents the
former site of a town called Bazar. Rustam stands midway between the
Swat and Indus, and must always have been an important trade centre
between the rich valley of Swat and the towns of the Indus. Ora may
possibly be represented by the modern Bazar which is close by.
Geographically this is the most probable solution of the problem of
Alexander's movements, there being direct connection with the Swat
valley through Rustam which is not to be found farther north.
Alexander would have to cross the Malakand from the Swat valley to the
Indus plains, but would encounter no further obstacles if he moved on
this route. Bazira made a fair show of resistance, but the usual Greek
tactics of drawing the enemy out into the plains was resorted to by
Koenos with a certain amount of success; and when Ora fell before
Alexander, the full military strength of Bazira dispersed and fled for
refuge to the rock Aornos.

So far we have followed this Greek expedition into regions which are
beyond the limits of modern Afghanistan, but the new geographical
detail acquired during the most recent of our frontier campaigns
enables new arguments to be adduced in favour of old theories (or the
reverse), and this departure from the strict political boundaries of
our subject leads us to regions which are at any rate historically and
strategically connected with it. With Aornos, however, our excursion
into Indian fields will terminate. Round about Aornos historical
controversy has ebbed and flowed for nearly a century, and it is not
my intention to add much to the literature which already concerns
itself with that doubtful locality. I believe, however, that it will
be some time yet before the last word is said about Aornos. Of all the
positions assigned to that marvellous feat of arms performed by the
Greek force, that which was advanced by the late General Sir James
Abbott in 1854 is the most attractive--so attractive, indeed, that it
is hard to surrender it. The discrepant accounts of the capture of the
famous "rock" given by Arrian (from the accounts of Ptolemy, one of
the chief actors in the scene), Curtius, Diodoros, and Strabo
obviously deal with a mountain position of considerable extent, where
was a flattish summit on which cavalry could act, and the base of it
was washed by the Indus. All, however, write as if it were an isolated
mountain with a definite circuit of, according to Arrian, 23 miles and
a height of 6200 feet (according to Diodoros of 12 miles and over 9000
feet). The "rock" was situated near the city of Embolina, which we
know to have been on the Indus and which is probably to be identified
more or less with the modern town of Amb. The mountain was
forest-covered, with good soil and water springs. It was precipitous
towards the Indus, yet "not so steep but that 220 horse and war
engines were taken up to the summit," all of which Sir James Abbott
finds compatible with the hill Mahaban which is close to Amb, and
answers all descriptions excepting that of isolation, for it is but a
lofty spur of the dividing ridge between the Chumla, an affluent of
the Buner River, and the lower Mada Khel hills, culminating in a peak
overlooking the Indus from a height of 7320 feet. The geographical
situation is precisely such as we should expect under the
circumstances. The tribespeople driven from Bazira (assuming Bazira to
be near Rustam) following the usual methods of the mountaineers of the
Indian frontier, would retreat to higher and more inaccessible
fastnesses in their rugged hills. There is but one way open from
Rustam towards the Indus offering them the chance of safety from
pursuit, and undoubtedly they followed that track. It leads up to the
great divide north of them and then descends into the Chumla valley
leading to that of Buner, and the hills which were to prove their
salvation might well be those flanking the Chumla on the south, rising
as they do to ever higher altitudes as they approach the Indus. This,
in fact, is Mahaban. By all the rules of Native strategy in Northern
India this is precisely the position which they would take up.

Aornos appears to have been a kind of generic name with the Greeks,
applied to mountain positions of a certain class, for we hear of
another Aornos in Central Asia, and the word translated "rock" seems
to mean anything from a mountain (as in the present case) to a
sand-bank (as in the case of the voyage of Nearkos). No isolated hill
such as would exactly fit in with Arrian's description exists in that
part of the Indus valley, and no physical changes such as alteration
in the course of the Indus, or such as might be effected by the
tectonic forces of Nature, are likely to have removed such a mountain.
Abbott's identification has therefore been generally accepted for many
years, and it has remained for our latest authority to question it
seriously.

The latest investigator into the archaeological interests of the Indian
trans-frontier is Dr. M. A. Stein, the Inspector-General of Education
in India. The marvellous results of his researches in Chinese
Turkistan have rendered his name famous all over the archaeological
world, and it is to him that we owe an entirely new conception of the
civilization of Indo-China during the Buddhist period. Dr. Stein's
methods are thorough. He leaves nothing to speculation, and indulges
in no romance, whatever may be the temptation. He takes with him on
his archaeological excursions a trained native surveyor of the Indian
survey, and he thus not only secures an exact illustration of his own
special area of investigation, but incidentally he adds immensely to
our topographical knowledge of little known regions. This is specially
necessary in those wild districts which are more immediately
contiguous to the Indian border, for it is seldom that the original
surveys of these districts can be anything more than topographical
sketches acquired, sometimes from a distance, sometimes on the spot,
but generally under all the disadvantages and disabilities of active
campaigning, when the limited area within which survey operations can
be carried on in safety is often very restricted. Thus we have very
presentable geographical maps of the regions of Alexander's exploits
in the north, but we have not had the opportunity of examining special
sites in detail, and there are doubtless certain irregularities in the
map compilation. This is very much the case as regards those hill
districts on the right bank of the Indus immediately adjoining the
Buner valley both north and south of it. Mahaban, the mountain which
in Abbott's opinion best represents what is to be gathered from
classical history of the general characteristics of Aornos, is south
of Buner, overlooking the lower valley close to the Indus River. Dr.
Stein formed the bold project of visiting Mahaban personally, and
taking a surveyor with him. It was a bold project, for there were many
difficulties both political and physical. The tribespeople
immediately connected with Mahaban are the Gaduns--a most unruly
people, constantly fighting amongst themselves; and it was only by
seizing on the exact psychological moment when for a brief space our
political representative had secured a lull in these fratricidal
feuds, that Stein was enabled to act. He actually reached Mahaban
under most trying conditions of wind and weather, and he made his
survey. Incidentally he effected some most remarkable Buddhist
identifications; but so far as the identification of Mahaban with
Aornos is concerned he came to the conclusion that such identification
could not possibly be maintained. This opinion is practically based on
the impossibility of fitting the details of the story of Aornos to the
physical features of Mahaban. It is unfortunate (but perhaps
inevitable) that even in those incidents and operations of Alexander's
expedition where his footsteps can be distinctly traced from point to
point, where geographical conformation absolutely debars us from
alternative selection of lines of action, the details of the story
never do fit the physical conditions which must have obtained in his
time.

As the history of Alexander is in the main a true history, there is
absolutely no justification for cutting out the thrilling incident of
Aornos from it. There was undoubtedly an Aornos somewhere near the
Indus, and there was a singularly interesting fight for its
possession, the story of which includes so many of the methods and
tactics familiar to every modern north-west frontiersman, that we
decline to believe it to be all invention. But the story was written a
century after Alexander's time, compiled from contemporary records it
is true, but leaving no margin for inquiry amongst survivors as to
details. If, instead of ancient history, we were to turn to the
century-old records of our own frontier expeditions and rewrite them
with no practical knowledge of the geography of the country, and no
witness of the actual scene to give us an _ex parte_ statement of what
happened (for no single participator in an action is ever able to give
a correct account of all the incidents of it), what should we expect?
Some furtive investigator might study the story of the ascent of the
famous frontier mountain, the Takht-i-Suliman (a veritable Aornos!),
during the expedition of 1882-83, and find it impossible to recognize
the account of its steep and narrow ascent, requiring men to climb on
their hands and knees, with the fact that a very considerable force
did finally ascend by comparatively easy slopes and almost dropped on
to the heads of the defenders. Such incidents require explanation to
render them intelligible, and at this distance of time it is only
possible to balance probabilities as regards Aornos.

Alexander's objective being India, eventually, and the Indus (of
India, not of the Himalayas) immediately, he would take the road
which led straightest from Massaga to the Indus; it is inconceivable
that he would deliberately involve himself and his army in the maze of
pathless mountains which enclose the head of Buner. He would certainly
take the road which leads from Malakand to the Indus, on which lies
Rustam. It has always been a great high-road. One of the most
interesting discoveries in connection with the Tirah campaign was the
old Buddhist road, well engineered and well graded, which leads from
Malakand to the plains of the Punjab--those northern plains which
abound with Buddhist relics. If we identify Bazar, or Rustam, with
Bazireh we may assume with certainty that a retreating tribe, driven
from any field of defeat on the straight high-road which links
Panjkora with the Indus, would inevitably retire to the nearest and
the highest mountain ridge that was within reach. This is certainly
the ridge terminating with Mahaban and flanking the Buner valley on
the south, a refuge in time of trouble for many a lawless people.
Probability, then, would seem to favour Mahaban, or some mountain
position near it. The modern name of this peak is Shah Kot, and it is
occupied by a mixed and irregular folk. Here Dr. Stein spent an
unhappy night in a whirling snow-storm, but he succeeded in examining
the mountain thoroughly. He decided that that position of Mahaban
could not possibly represent Aornos, for the following reasons:--The
hill-top is too narrow for military action; the ascent, instead of
being difficult, is easy from every side; and there is no spring of
water on the summit, which summit must have been a very considerable
plateau to admit of the action described; finally, there is no great
ravine, and therefore no opportunity for the erection of the mound
described by Arrian, which enabled the Greeks to fusilade the enemy's
camp with darts and stones. Can we reconcile these discrepancies with
the text of history?

After the reduction of Bazira Alexander marched towards the Indus and
received the submission of Peukelaotis, which was then the capital of
what is now, roughly speaking, the Peshawur district. The site of this
ancient capital appears to be ascertained beyond doubt, and we must
regard it as fixed near Charsadda, about 17 miles north-east (not
north-west as M'Crindle has it) from Peshawur. From this place
Alexander marched to Embolina, which is said to be a city close
adjoining the rock of Aornos. On the route thither he is said by
Arrian to have taken "many other small towns seated upon that river,"
_i.e_. the Indus; two princes of that province, Cophaeus and Assagetes,
accompanying him. This sufficiently indicates that his march must have
been up the right bank of the Indus, which would be the natural route
for him to follow. Arrived at Embolina, he arranged for a base of
supplies at that point, and then, with "Archers, Agrians, Caenus'
Troop" and the choicest, best armed, and most expeditious foot out of
the whole army, besides 200 auxiliary horse and 100 equestrian
archers, he marched towards the "rock" (8 miles distant), and on the
first day chose a place convenient for an encampment. The day after,
he pitched his tents much higher. The ancient Embolina may not be the
modern Amb, but Amb undoubtedly is an extremely probable site for such
a base of supplies to be formed, whether the final objective were
Mahaban or any place (as suggested by Stein) higher up the river. The
fact that there is a similarity in the names Amb and Embolina need not
militate against the adoption of the site of Amb as by far the most
probable that any sagacious military commander would select. A mere
resemblance between the ancient and modern names of places may, of
course, be most deceptive. On the other hand it is often a most
valuable indication, and one certainly not to be neglected.
Place-names last with traditional tenacity in the East, and obscured
as they certainly would be by Greek transliteration (after all, not
worse than British transliteration), they still offer a chance of
identifying old positions such as nothing else can offer excepting
accurate topographical description. Once again, if Embolina were not
Amb it certainly ought to have been.

Alexander's next movements from Embolina most clearly indicate that he
had to deal with a mountain position. There is no getting away from
it, nor from the fact that the road to it was passable for horsemen,
and therefore not insuperably difficult. At the same time he had to
move as slowly as any modern force would move, for he was traversing
the rough spurs of a hill which ran to 7800 feet in altitude. Further,
the mountain was high enough to render signalling by fire useful. The
"rock" was obviously either a mountain itself or it was perched on the
summit of a mountain. Ptolemy as usual had conducted the
reconnaissance. He established himself unobserved in a temporary
position on the crest, within reach of the enemy, who attempted to
dispossess him and failed; and it was he who (according to the story)
signalled to Alexander. Ptolemy had followed a route, with guides,
which proved rough and difficult, and Alexander's attempt to join him
next day was prevented by the fierce activity of the mountaineers, who
were plainly fighting from the mountain spurs. Then, it is said,
Alexander communicated with Ptolemy by night and arranged a combined
plan of attack. When it "was almost night" of the following day
Alexander succeeded in joining Ptolemy, but only after severe fighting
during the ascent. Then the combined forces attacked the "rock" and
failed. All this so far is plain unvarnished mountain warfare, and the
incidents follow each other as naturally as in any modern campaign. It
becomes clear that the "rock" was a position on the crest of a high
mountain, the ascent of which was rendered doubly difficult by fierce
opposition. But it was practicable. Nothing is said about cavalry
ascending. Why, then, did Alexander take cavalry? This question leads
to another. Why do our frontier generals always burden themselves with
cavalry on these frontier expeditions? They cannot act on the
mountain-sides, and they are useless for purposes of pursuit. The
answer is that they are most valuable for preserving the line of
communication. Without the cavalry Alexander had no overwhelming force
at his disposal, and it would not be very hazardous if we assumed that
the force which actually reached the crest of the mountain was a
comparatively small one--much of the original brigade being dispersed
on the route.

Dr. Stein found the ascent too easy to reconcile with history. This
might possibly be the effect of long weather action of the slopes of
mountains subject to severe snow-falls. Twenty-three centuries of wind
and weather have beaten on those scarred and broken slopes since
Alexander's day. Those twenty-three centuries have had such effect on
the physical outlines of land conformation elsewhere as absolutely to
obliterate the tracks over which the Greek force most undoubtedly
passed. What may have been the exact effect of them on Mahaban,
whether (as usual) they rounded off sharp edges, cut out new channels,
obliterated some water springs and gave rise to others, smoothing
down the ruggedness of spurs and shaping the drainage, we cannot say.
Only it is certain that the slopes of Mahaban--and its crest for that
matter--are not what they were twenty-three centuries ago. We shall
never recognize Aornos by its superficial features. Then, in the Greek
story, follows the episode of filling up the great ravine which yawned
between the Greek position and the "rock" on which the tribespeople
were massed, and the final abandonment of the latter when, after three
days' incessant toil, a mound had been raised from which it could be
assailed by the darts and missiles of the Greeks. Arrian tells the
story with a certain amount of detail. He states that a "huge rampart"
was raised "from the level of that part of the hill where their
entrenchment was" by means of "poles and stakes," the whole being
"perfected in three days." On the fourth day the Greeks began to build
a "mound opposite the rock," and Alexander decided to extend the
"Rampart" to the mound. It was then that the "Barbarians" decided to
surrender.

In the particular translation from which I have quoted (Rookes, 1829)
there is nothing said about the "great ravine" of which Stein writes
that it is clearly referred to by "all texts," and a very little
consideration will show that it could never have existed. No matter
what might have been the strength of Alexander's force it could only
have been numbered by hundreds and not by thousands, when it reached
the summit of the mountain. We might refer to the modern analogy of
the expedition to the summit of the Takht-i-Suliman, where it was
found quite impossible to maintain a few companies of infantry for
more than two or three days. Numbers engaged in action are
proverbially exaggerated, especially in the East; but the physical
impossibility of keeping a large force on the top of a mountain must
certainly be acknowledged. Even supposing there were a thousand men,
and that no guards were required, and no reliefs, and that the whole
force could apply themselves to filling up a "large ravine" with such
"stakes and poles" as they could carry or drag from the
mountain-slopes, it would take three months rather than three days to
fill up any ravine which could possibly be called "large." General
Abbott, as a scientific officer, was probably quite correct in his
estimate of the "Rampart" as some sort of a "trench of approach with a
parapet." There could not possibly have been a "great mound built of
stakes and poles for crossing a ravine." It may be noted that
Ptolemy's defensive work on his first arrival on the summit is called
(or translated) "Rampart," and yet we know that it could only have
been a palisade or an abattis. The story told by Arrian (and possibly
maltreated by translators) is doubtless full of inaccuracies and
exaggerations, but we decline to believe that it is pure invention.
There is nothing in it, so far, which absolutely militates against the
Mahaban of to-day (that refuge for Hindustani fanatics at one time,
and for the discontented tribesfolk of the whole countryside through
all time) being the Aornos of Arrian. No appearance of "precipices"
is, however, to be found in the survey of the summit which accompanied
Dr. Stein's report, and no opportunity for the defeated tribesmen to
fall into the river. The story runs that the defeated mountaineers
retreating from the victorious Greeks fell over the precipices in
their hot haste, and that many of them were drowned in the Indus. This
is indeed an incident which might be added as an effective addition to
any tall story of a fight which took place on hills in the immediate
neighbourhood of a river; but under no conceivable circumstances could
it be adjusted to the formation of the Mahaban hill, even if it were
admitted that armoured Greeks were any match in the hills for the
fleet-footed and light-clad Indians. Probably the incident is purely
decorative, but we need not therefore assume that the whole story is
fiction. It has been pointed out by Sir Bindon Blood, who commanded
the latest expedition to the Buner valley, that failing Mahaban there
is north of the Buner River, immediately overlooking the Indus, a peak
called Baio with precipitous flanks on the river side, which would fit
in with the tale of Aornos better even than Mahaban. The Buner River
joins the Indus through an impassable gorge steeply entrenched on
either side, and a mile or two above it is the peak of Baio. So far as
the Indus is concerned, that river presents no difficulties, for boats
can be hauled up it far beyond Baio--even to Thakot. Looking northward
or westward from above Kotkai one sees the river winding round the
foot of the lower spurs of the Black Mountain on its left or eastern
bank. Beyond is Baio on its right bank, towering (with a clumsy fort
on its summit) over the Indus and forming part of a continuous ridge,
beyond which again in the blue distance is the line of hills over
which is the Ambela Pass at the head of the Chumla valley. (It is
curious how the nomenclature hereabouts echoes faintly the Greek
Embolina.) Above Baio is the ford of Chakesar, from which runs an
old-time road westward to Manglaor, once the Buddhist capital of Swat.
It would be all within reach of either Indians or Greeks, so we need
not quite give up the thrilling tale of Aornos yet, even if Dr. Stein
defeats us on Mahaban.

Then follows the narrative of an excursion into the country of the
Assakenoi and the capture of the elephants, which had been taken for
safety into the hills. The scene of this short expedition must have
been near the Indus, and was probably the valley of the Chumla or
Buner immediately under Mahaban, to the north. There was in those
far-off days a different class of vegetation on the Indus banks to
any which exists at present. We know that a good deal of the Indus
plain below its debouchment from the hills was a reedy swamp in
Alexander's time, and it was certainly the haunt of the rhinoceros for
centuries subsequently, and consequently quite suitable for elephants,
and it is probable that for some little distance above its debouchment
the same sort of pasturage was obtainable. Most interesting perhaps of
all the incidents in Arrian's history is that which now follows. We
are told that "Alexander then entered that part of the country which
lies between the Kophen and the Indus, where Nysa is said to be
situate." Other authorities, however, Curtius (viii. 10), Strabo (xv.
697), and Justin (xii. 7), make him a visitor to Nysa before he
crossed the Choaspes and took Massaga. All this is very vague; the
river he crossed immediately before taking Massaga was certainly the
Gauraios or Panjkora.

There is a certain element of confusion in classical writings in
dealing with river names which we need not wait to investigate; nor is
it a matter of great importance whether Alexander retraced his steps
all the way to the country of Nysa (for no particular reason), or
whether he visited Nysa as he passed from the Kunar valley to the
Panjkora. The latter is far more probable, as Nysa (if we have
succeeded in identifying that interesting relic of pre-Alexandrian
Greek occupation) would be right in his path. Various authorities have
placed Nysa in different parts of the wide area indicated as lying
between the Kophen (Kabul) and the Indus, but none, before the Asmar
Boundary Commission surveyed the Kunar valley in the year 1894, had
the opportunity of studying the question _in loco_. Even then there
was no possibility of reaching the actual site which was indicated as
the site of Nysa; and when subsequently in 1898 geographical surveys
of Swat were pushed forward wherever it was possible for surveyors to
obtain a footing, they never approached that isolated band of hills at
the foot of which Nysa once lay. The result of inquiries instituted
during the progress of demarcating the boundary between Afghanistan
and the independent districts of the east from Asmar have been given
in the _R.G.S. Journal_, vol. vii., and no subsequent information has
been obtained which might lead me to modify the views therein
expressed, excepting perhaps in the doubtful point as to _when_, in
the course of his expedition, Alexander visited Nysa. In the first
engraved Atlas sheet of the Indian Survey dealing with the regions
east of the Kunar River, the name of Nysa, or Nyssa, is recorded as
one of the most important places in that neighbourhood, and it is
placed just south of the Koh-i-Mor, a spur, or extension, from the
eastern ridges of the Kunar valley. From what source of information
this addition to the map was made it is difficult to say, now that the
first compiler of those maps (General Walker) has passed away. But it
was undoubtedly a native source. Similarly the information obtained at
Asmar, that a large and scattered village named _Nusa_ was to be found
in that position, was also from a native (Yusufzai) source. No
possible cause can be suggested for this agreement between the two
native authorities, and it is unlikely that the name could have been
invented by both. At the same time Nysa, or Nusa, is not now generally
known to the borderland people near the Indian frontier, and it is
certainly no longer an important village. It is probably no more than
scattered and hidden ruins. Above it towers the three-peaked hill
called the Koh-i-Mor, whose outlines can be clearly distinguished from
Peshawur on any clear day, and on that hill grows the wild vine and
the ivy, even as they grow in glorious trailing and exuberant masses
on the scarped slopes of the Kafiristan hills to the west.

We may repeat here what Arrian has to say about Nysa. "The city was
built by Dionysos or Bacchus when he conquered the Indians, but who
this Bacchus was, or at what time or from whence he conquered the
Indians is hard to determine. Whether he was that Theban who from
Thebes or he who from Tmolus, a mountain of Lydia, undertook that
famous expedition into India ... is very uncertain." So here we have a
clear reference to previous invasions of India from Greece, which were
regarded as historical in Arrian's time. However, as soon as
Alexander arrived at Nysa a deputation of Nysaeans, headed by one
Akulphis, waited on him, and, after recovering from the astonishment
that his extraordinary appearance inspired, they presented a petition.
"The Nysaeans entreat thee O King, for the reverence thou bearest to
Dionysos, their God, to leave their city untouched ... for Bacchus ...
built this city for an habitation for such of his soldiers as age or
accident had rendered unfit for military service.... He called this
city Nysa (Nuson) after the name of his nurse ... and the mountain
also, which is so near us, he would have denominated Meros (or the
thigh) alluding to his birth from that of Jupiter ... and as an
undoubted token that the place was founded by Bacchus, the ivy which
is to be found nowhere else throughout all India, flourishes in our
territories." Alexander was pleased to grant the petition, and ordered
that a hundred of the chief citizens should join his camp and
accompany him. It was then that Akulphis, with much native shrewdness,
suggested that if he really had the good of the city at heart he
should take two hundred of the worst citizens instead of one hundred
of the best--a suggestion which appealed at once to Alexander's good
sense, and the demand was withdrawn. Alexander then visited the
mountain and sacrificed to Bacchus, his troops meanwhile making
garlands of ivy "wherewith they crowned their heads, singing and
calling loudly upon the god, not only by the name of Dionysos, but by
all his other names." A sort of Bacchic orgy!

But who were the Nysaeans, and what became of them? In Arrian's
_Indika_ he says: "The Assakenoi" (who inhabited the Swat valley east
of Nysa) "are not men of great stature like the Indians ... not so
brave nor yet so swarthy as most Indians. They were in old times
subject to the Assyrians; then after a period of Median rule submitted
to the Persians ... the Nysaioi, however, are not an Indian race, but
descendants of those who came to India with Dionysos"; he adds that
the mountain "in the lower slopes of which Nysa is built" is
designated Meros, and he clearly distinguishes between Assakenoi and
Nysaioi. M. de St. Martin says that the name Nysa is of Persian or
Median origin; but although we know that Assyrians, Persians, and
Medes all overran this part of India before Alexander, and all must
have left, as was the invariable custom of those days, representatives
of their nationality behind them who have divided with subsequent
Skyths the ethnographical origin of many of the Upper Indian valley
tribes of to-day, there seems no sound reason for disputing the origin
of this particular name.

Ptolemy barely mentions Nysa, but we learn something about the Nysaeans
from fragments of the _Indika_ of Megasthenes, which have been
collected by Dr. Schwanbeck and translated by M'Crindle. We learn that
this pre-Alexandrian Greek Dionysos was a most beneficent conqueror.
He taught the Indians how to make wine and cultivate the fields; he
introduced the system of retiring to the slopes of Meros (the first
"hill station" in India) in the hot weather, where "the army recruited
by the cold breezes and the water which flowed fresh from the
fountains, recovered from sickness.... Having achieved altogether many
great and noble works, he was regarded as a deity, and obtained
immortal honours."

Again we read, in a fragment quoted by Strabo, that the reason of
calling the mountain above Nysa by the name of Meron was that "ivy
grows there, and also the vine, although its fruit does not come to
perfection, as the clusters, on account of the heaviness of the rains,
fall off the trees before ripening. They" (the Greeks) "further call
the Oxydrakai descendants of Dionysos, because the vine grew in their
country, and their processions were conducted with great pomp, and
their kings, on going forth to war, and on other occasions, marched in
Bacchic fashion with drums beating," etc.

Again we find, in a fragment quoted by Polyaenus, that Dionysos, "in
his expedition against the Indians, in order that the cities might
receive him willingly, disguised the arms with which he had equipped
his troops, and made them wear soft raiment and fawn-skins. The spears
were wrapped round with ivy, and the thyrsus had a sharp point. He
gave the signal for battle by cymbals and drums instead of the
trumpet; and, by regaling the enemy with wine, diverted their thoughts
from war to dancing. These and all other Bacchic orgies were employed
in the system of warfare by which he subjugated the Indians and the
rest of Asia."

All these lively legends point to a very early subjugation of India by
a Western race (who may have been of Greek origin) before the
invasions of Assyrian, Mede, or Persian. It could not well have been
later than the sixth century B.C., and might have been earlier by many
centuries. The Nysaeans, whose city Alexander spared, were the
descendants of those conquerors who, coming from the West, were
probably deterred by the heat of the plains of India from carrying
their conquests south of the Punjab. They settled on the cool and
well-watered slopes of those mountains which crown the uplands of Swat
and Bajaur, where they cultivated the vine for generations, and after
the course of centuries, through which they preserved the tradition of
their Western origin, they welcomed the Macedonian conqueror as a man
of their own faith and nation. It seems possible that they may have
extended their habitat as far eastward as the upper Swat valley and
the mountain region of the Indus, and at one time may have occupied
the site of the ancient capital of the Assakenoi, Massaga, which there
is reason to suppose stood near the position now occupied by the town
of Matakanai; but they were clearly no longer there in the days of
Alexander, and must be distinguished as a separate race altogether
from the Assakenoi. As the centuries rolled on, this district of Swat,
together with the valley of Dir, became a great headquarters of
Buddhism. It is from this part of the trans-frontier that some of the
most remarkable of those sculptures have been taken which exhibit so
strong a Greek and Roman influence in their design. They are the
undoubted relics of stupas, dagobas, and monasteries belonging to a
period of a Buddhist occupation of the country, which was established
after Alexander's time. Buddhism did not become a State religion till
the reign of Asoka, grandson of that Sandrakottos (Chandragupta) to
whom Megasthenes was sent as ambassador; and it is improbable that any
of these buildings existed in the time of the Greek invasion, or we
should certainly have heard of them.

But along with these Buddhist relics there have been lately unearthed
certain strange inscriptions, which have been submitted by their
discoverer, Major Deane,[2] to a congress of Orientalists, who can
only pronounce them to be in an unknown tongue. They have been found
in the Indus valley east of Swat, most of them being engraved on stone
slabs which have been built into towers, now in ruins. The towers are
comparatively modern, but it by no means follows that these
inscriptions are so. It is the common practice of Pathan builders to
preserve any engraved or sculptured relic that they may find, by
utilizing them as ornamental features in their buildings. It has
probably been a custom from time immemorial. In 1895 I observed
evidences of this propensity in the graveyard at Chagan Sarai, in the
Kunar valley, where many elaborately carved Buddhist fragments were
let into the sides of their roughly built "chabutras," or sepulchres,
with the obvious purpose of gaining effect thereby. No one would say
where those Buddhist fragments came from. The Kunar valley appears at
first sight to be absolutely free from Buddhist remains, although it
would naturally be selected as a most likely field for research. These
undeciphered inscriptions may possibly be found to be vastly more
ancient than the towers they adorned. It is, at any rate, a notable
fact about them that some of them "recall a Greek alphabet of archaic
type." So great an authority as M. Senart inclines to the opinion that
their authors must be referred to the Skythic or Mongolian invaders of
India; but he refers at the same time to a sculptured and inscribed
monument in the Louvre, of unknown origin, the characters on which
resemble those of the new script. "The subject of this sculpture seems
to be a Bacchic procession." What if it really is a Bacchic
procession, and the characters thereon inscribed prove to be an
archaic form of Greek--the forgotten forms of the Nysaean alphabet?

Whilst surveying in the Kunar valley along the Kafiristan borderland,
I made the acquaintance of two Kafirs of Kamdesh, who stayed some
little time in the Afghan camp, in which my own tent was pitched, and
who were objects of much interest to the members of the Boundary
Commission there assembled. They submitted gracefully enough to much
cross-examination, and amongst other things they sang a war-hymn to
their god Gish, and executed a religious dance. Gish is not supreme in
their mythology, but he is the god who receives by far the greatest
amount of attention, for the Kafir of the lower Bashgol is ever on the
raid, always on the watch for the chance of a Mahomedan life. It is,
indeed, curious that whilst tolerant enough to allow of the existence
of Mahomedan communities in their midst, they yet rank the life of a
Mussulman as the one great object of attainment; so that a Kafir's
social position is dependent on the activity he displays in searching
out the common enemy, and his very right to sing hymns of adoration to
his war-god is strictly limited by the number of lives he has taken.
The hymn which these Kafirs recited, or sang, was translated word by
word, with the aid of a Chitrali interpreter, by a Munshi, who has the
reputation of being a most careful interpreter, and the following is
almost a literal transcript, for which I am indebted to Dr. MacNab, of
the Q.O. Corps of Guides:--

     O thou who from Gir-Nysa's (lofty heights) was born
     Who from its sevenfold portals didst emerge,
     On Katan Chirak thou hast set thine eyes,
     Towards (the depths of) Sum Bughal dost go,
     In Sum Baral assembled you have been.
     Sanji from the heights you see; Sanji you consult?
     The council sits. O mad one, whither goest thou?
     Say, Sanji, why dost thou go forth?

The words within brackets are introduced, otherwise the translation is
literal. Gir-Nysa means the mountain of Nysa, Gir being a common
prefix denoting a peak or hill. Katan Chirak is explained to be an
ancient town in the Minjan valley of Badakshan, now in ruins; but it
was the first large place that the Kafirs captured, and is apparently
held to be symbolical of victory. This reference connects the Kamdesh
Kafirs with Badakshan, and shows these people to have been more
widespread than they are at present. Sum Bughal is a deep ravine
leading down to the plain of Sum Baral, where armies are assembled for
war. Sanji appears to be the oracle consulted before war is
undertaken. The chief interest of this verse (for I believe it is only
one verse of many, but it was all that our friends were entitled to
repeat) is the obvious reference in the first line to the mountain of
Bacchus, the Meros from which he was born, on the slopes of which
stood the ancient Nysa. It is, indeed, a Bacchic hymn (slightly
incoherent, perhaps, as is natural), and only wants the accessories of
vine-leaves and ivy to make it entirely classical.

That eminent linguistic authority, Dr. Grierson, thinks that the
language in which the hymn was recited is derived from what Sanscrit
writers said was the language of the Pisacas, a people whom they
dubbed "demons" and "eaters of raw flesh," and who may be represented
by the "Pashai" dwellers in Laghman and its vicinity to-day. Possibly
the name of the chief village of the Kunar valley Pashat may claim the
same origin, for Laghman and Kunar both spread their plains to the
foot of the mountains of Kafiristan.

The vine and the ivy are not far to seek. In making slow progress
through one of the deep "darras," or ravines, of the western Kunar
basin, leading to the snow-bound ridges that overlook Bashgol, I was
astonished at the free growth of the wild vine, and the thick masses
of ivy which here and there clung to the buttresses of the rugged
mountain spurs as ivy clings to less solid ruins in England. The
Kafirs have long been celebrated for their wine-making. Early in the
nineteenth century, when the adventurer Baber, on his way to found the
most magnificent dynasty that India has ever seen at Delhi, first
captured the ancient city of Bajaor, and then moved on to the valley
of Jandoul--now made historic by another adventurer, Umra Khan--he was
perpetually indulging in drinking-parties; and he used to ride in from
Jandoul to Bajaor to join his cronies in a real good Bacchic orgy more
frequently than was good for him. He has a good deal to say about the
Kafir wine in that inimitable Diary of his, and his appreciation of
it was not great. It was, however, much better than nothing, and he
drank a good deal of it. Through the kindness of the Sipah Salar, the
Amir's commander-in-chief, I have had the opportunity of tasting the
best brand of this classical liquor, and I agree with Baber--it is not
of a high class. It reminded me of badly corked and muddy Chablis,
which it much resembled in appearance.

  [Illustration: GREEK RETREAT FROM INDIA]

FOOTNOTES:

[1] _Ancient India_, "Invasion by Alexander the Great." Appendix.

[2] The late Sir H. Deane.




CHAPTER V

GREEK EXPLORATION--THE WESTERN GATES OF INDIA


South of the Khaibar route from Peshawur to Kabul and separated from
it by the remarkable straight-backed range of Sufed Koh, is an
alternative route _via_ the Kuram valley, at the head of which is the
historic Peiwar Pass. From the crest of the rigid line of the Sufed
Koh one may look down on either valley, the Kabul to the north or the
Kuram to the south; and but for the lack of any convenient lateral
communications between them, the two might be regarded as a twin
system, with Kabul as the common objective. But there is no
practicable pass across the Sufed Koh, so that no force moving along
either line could depend on direct support from the other side of the
mountains. It will be convenient here to regard the Kuram as an
alternative to the Kabul route, and to consider the two together as
forming a distinct group.

The next important link between Afghanistan and the Indian frontier
south of the Kuram, is the open ramp of the Tochi valley. The Tochi
does not figure largely in history, but it has been utilized in the
past for sudden raids from Ghazni in spite of the difficulties which
Nature has strewn about its head. The Tochi, and the Gomul River south
of it, must be regarded as highways to Ghazni, but there is no
comparison between the two as regards their facilities or the amount
of traffic which they carry. All the carrying trade of the Ghazni
province is condensed into the narrow ways of the Gomul. Trade in the
Tochi hardly extends farther than the villages at its head. About the
Gomul there hangs many a tale of adventure, albeit adventure of rather
ancient date, for it is exceedingly doubtful if any living European
has ever trod more than the lower steps of that ancient staircase.
Then, south of the Gomul, there follows a whole series of minor passes
and byways wriggling through the clefts of the mountains, scrambling
occasionally over the sharp ridges, but generally adhering closely to
the line of some fierce little stream, which has either split its way
through the successive walls of rock offered by the parallel uptilted
ridges, or else was there, flowing gently down from the highlands,
before these ridges were tilted into their present position. There are
many such streams, and the history of their exploration is to be found
in the modern Archives of the Survey of India. They may have been used
for centuries by roving bands of frontier raiders, but they have no
history to speak of. South of the Gomul, they all connect Baluchistan
with India, for Baluchistan begins, politically, from the Gomul; and
they are of minor importance because, by grace of the determined
policy of the great maker of the Baluch frontier, Sir Robert Sandeman,
their back doors and small beginnings in the Baluch highlands are all
linked up by a line of posts which runs from Quetta to the Gomul _via_
the Zhob valley. Whoever holds the two ends of the Zhob holds the key
of all these back doors. There is not much to be said about them. No
great halo of historical romance hangs around them; and yet the stern
grandeur of some of these waterways of the frontier hills is well
worth a better descriptive pen than mine. I know of one, in the depths
of a fathomless abyss, whose waters rage in wild fury over fantastic
piles of boulders, tossing up feathers of white spray to make glints
of light on the smooth apron of the limestone walls which enclose and
overshadow it, which is matchless in its weird beauty. From rounded
sun-kissed uplands, where olive groves shelve down long spurs, the
waters come, and with a gradually deepening and strengthening rush
they swirl into the embrace of the echoing hills, passing with swift
transition from a sunny stream to a boiling fury of turgid water under
the rugged cliffs of the pine-clad Takht-i-Suliman. Then the stream
sets out again, babbling sweetly as it goes, into the open, just a
dimpled stream, leaving lonely pools in silent places on its way, and
breaking up into a hundred streamlets to gladden the mountain people
with the gift of irrigation.

It is impossible to describe these frontier waterways. There is
nothing like them to be found amidst scenes less wild and less
fantastic than their frontier cradles. But full of local light and
colour (and local tragedy too) as they surely are, they are
unimportant in the military economy of the frontier, and their very
wildness and impassability have saved them from the steps of the great
horde of Indian immigrants. When, however, we reach still farther
southward to the straight passes leading to Quetta, we are once again
in a land of history. It is there we find by far the most open gates
and those most difficult to shut, although the value of them as
military approaches is very largely discounted by the geographical
conditions of Western India at the point where they open on to the
Indus frontier.

Quetta, Kalat, and Las Bela, standing nearly in line from north to
south, are the watch-towers of the western marches. Quetta and Kalat
stand high, surrounded by wild hill country. Magnificent cliff-crowned
mountains overlooking a wilderness of stone-strewed spurs embrace the
little flat plain on which Quetta lies crumpled. Here and there on the
plain an isolated smooth excrescence denotes an extinct volcano. Such
is the Miri, now converted into the protecting fort of Quetta. The
road from Quetta to the north-west, _i.e._ to Kandahar and Herat, has
to pass through a narrow hill-enclosed space some eight miles from
Quetta; and this physical gateway is strengthened and protected by all
the devices of which military engineering skill is capable, whilst
midway between Quetta and Kandahar is the formidable Khojak range
which must always have been a trouble to buccaneers from the
north-west. From Quetta to the south-east extends that road and that
railway which, intersecting the complicated rampart of frontier hills,
finally debouches into the desert plains round Jacobabad in Sind.
Kalat is somewhat similarly situated. High amongst the mountains,
Kalat also commands the approaches to an important pass to the plains,
_i.e._ the Mula, a pass which in times gone by was a commercial
high-road, but which has long been superseded by the Quetta passes of
Harnai and Bolan (or Mashkaf). Las Bela is an insignificant Baluch
town in the valley of the Purali, and at present commands nothing of
value. But it was not always insignificant, as we shall see, and if
its military value is not great at present, Las Bela must have stood
full in the tide of human immigration to India for centuries in the
past. It is a true gateway, and the story of it belongs to a period
more ancient than any.

Owing to the peculiar geographical conformation of the country, Quetta
holds in her keeping all the approaches from the west, thus
safeguarding Kalat. The Kalat fortress is only of minor importance as
the guardian of the Mula stairway to the plains of India. It is the
extraordinary conformation of ridge and valley which forms the great
defensive wall of the southern frontier. Only where this wall is
traversed by streams which break through the successive ridges
gathering countless affluents from left and right in their
course--affluents which are often as straight and rectangular to the
main stream as the branches of a pear-tree trained on a wall are to
the parent stem--is it possible to find an open road from the plains
to the plateau.

For very many miles north of Karachi the plains of Sind are faced by a
solid wall of rock, so rigid, so straight and unscalable (this is the
Kirthar range) as to form a veritably impracticable barrier. There is
but one crack in it. For a short space at its southern end, however,
it subsides into a series of minor ridges, and it is here that the
connection between Karachi and Las Bela is to be found. These southern
Las Bela approaches (about which there is more to be said) are not
only the oldest, but they have been the most persistently trodden of
any in the frontier, and they would be just as important in future as
they have been in the past but for their geographical position. They
are commanded from the sea. No one making for the Indus plains can
again utilize these approaches who does not hold command of the
Arabian Sea. In this way, and to this extent, the command of the
Arabian Sea and of the Persian Gulf beyond it becomes vitally
important to the security of India. Omitting for the present the Gomul
gateway (the story of the exploration of which belongs to a later
chapter), and in order to preserve something of chronological sequence
in this book, it is these most southern of the Baluchistan passes
which now claim our attention.

Until quite lately these seaboard approaches to India have been almost
ignored by historians and military strategists (doubtless because so
little was known about them), and the pages of recent text-books are
silent concerning them. They lead outwards from the lower Indus
valleys through Makran, either into Persia or to the coast ports of
the Arabian Sea. From extreme Western Persia to the frontiers of India
at Quetta, or indeed to the Indus delta, it is possible for a laden
camel to take its way with care and comfort, never meeting a
formidable pass, never dragging its weary limbs up any too steep
incline, with regular stages and more or less good pasturage through
all the 1400 or 1500 miles which intervene between Western Persia and
Las Bela. From the pleasant palm groves of Panjgur in Makran to India,
it might indeed be well to have an efficient local guide, and indeed
from Las Bela to Karachi the road is not to be taken quite haphazard;
nevertheless, if the camel-driver knew his way, he could not only
lead his charge comfortably along a well-trodden route, but he might
turn chauffeur at the end of his long march and drive an exploring
party back in a motor.

In the illimitable past it was this way that Dravidian peoples flocked
down from Asiatic highlands to the borderland of India. Some of them
remained for centuries either on the coast-line, where they built
strange dwellings and buried each other in earthen pots, or they were
entangled in the mass of frontier hills which back the solid Kirthar
ridge, and stayed there till a Turco-Mongol race, the Brahuis (or
Barohis, _i.e._ "men of the hills"), overlaid them, and intermixing
with them preserved the Dravidian language, but lost the Dravidian
characteristics. According to their own traditions a large number of
these Brahuis were implanted in their wild and almost inaccessible
hills by the conqueror Chenghiz Khan, and some of them call themselves
Mingals, or Mongols, to this day. This seems likely to be true. It is
always best to assume in the first instance that a local tradition
firmly held and strongly asserted has a basis of fact to support it.
Here are a people who have been an ethnological puzzle for many years,
talking the language of Southern Indian tribes, but protesting that
they are Mongols. Like the degenerate descendants of the Greeks in the
extreme north-west, or like the mixed Arab peoples of the Makran coast
and Baluchistan, these half-bred Mongols have preserved the
traditions of their fathers and adopted the tongue of their mothers.
It is strange how soon a language may be lost that is not preserved by
the women! What we learn from the Brahuis is that a Dravidian race
must once have been where they are now, and this supports the theory
now generally admitted, that the Dravidian peoples of India entered
India by these western gateways.

No more interesting ethnographical inquiry could be found in relation
to the people of India than how these races, having got thus far on
their way, ever succeeded in getting to the south of the peninsula. It
could only have been the earliest arrivals on the frontier who passed
on. Later arrivals from Western Persia (amongst whom we may reckon the
Medes or Meds) remained in the Indus valley. The bar to frontier
progress lies in the desert which stretches east of the Indus from the
coast to the land of the five rivers. This is indeed India's second
line of defence, and it covers a large extent of her frontier.
Conquerors of the lower Indus valley have been obliged to follow up
the Indus to the Punjab before striking eastwards for the great cities
of the plains. Thus it is not only the Indus, but the desert behind
it, which has barred the progress of immigration and conquest from
time immemorial, and it is this, combined with the command given by
the sea, which differentiates these southern gates of India from the
northern, which lead on by open roads to Lahore, Delhi, and the heart
of India.

The answer to the problem of immigration is probably simple. There was
a time when the great rivers of India did not follow their courses as
they do now. This was most recently the case as regards the Indus and
the rivers of Central India. In the days when there was no Indus delta
and the Indus emptied itself into the great sandy depression of the
Rann of Katch, another great lost river from the north-east, the
Saraswati, fed the Indus, and between them the desert area was
immensely reduced if it did not altogether disappear. Then, possibly,
could the cairn-erecting stone-monument building Dravidian sneak his
way along the west coast within sight of the sea, and there indeed has
he left his monuments behind him. Otherwise the Dravidian element of
Central Southern India could only have been gathered from beyond the
seas; a proposition which it is difficult to believe. However, never
since that desert strip was formed which now flanks the Indus to the
east can there have been a right-of-way to the heart of India by the
gateways of the west. The earliest exploration of these western roads,
of which we can trace any distinct record, was once again due to the
enterprise of the Greeks. We need not follow Alexander's victorious
footsteps through India, nor concern ourselves with the voyage of his
fleet down the Indus, and from the mouth of the Indus to Karachi.
General Haig, in his pamphlet on the Indus delta, has traced out his
route[3] with patient care, demonstrating from observations taken
during the course of his surveys the probable position of the
coast-line in those early days.

From Karachi to the Persian Gulf, a voyage undertaken 300 years B.C.,
of which a log has been kept from day to day, is necessarily of
exceeding interest, if only as an indication of a few of the changes
which have altered the form of that coast-line in the course of
twenty-two centuries. This old route from Arabia to the west coast of
India can hardly be left unnoticed, for it illustrates the earliest
beginning of those sea ways to India which were destined finally to
supplant the land ways altogether. I have already pointed out that,
judged by the standard of geographical aptitude only, there is no
great difficulty in reaching Persia from Karachi. But geographical
distribution of mountain, river, and plain is not all that is
necessary to take into account in planning an expedition into new
territory. There is also the question of supplies. This was the rock
on which Alexander's enterprise split. In moving out of India towards
Persia he adopted the same principle which had stood him in good stead
on the Indus, viz. the maintenance of communication between army and
fleet. Naturally he elected to retire from India by a route which as
far as possible touched the sea. This was his fatal mistake, and it
cost him half his force.

We need not trouble ourselves further with the ethnographical
conditions of that extraordinary country, Makran, in Alexander's time;
nor need we follow in detail the changes which have taken place in the
general configuration of the coast-line between India and the Persian
Gulf during the last 2000 years, references to which will be found in
the _Journal of the Royal Society of Arts_ for April 1901. Apart from
the enormous extension of the Indus delta, and in spite of the
disappearance of many small islands off the coast, the general result
has been a material gain by the land on the sea in all this part of
the Asiatic coast-line.

Alexander left Patala about the beginning of September 326 B.C. to
push his way through the country of the Arabii and Oritae to Gadrosia
(or Makran) and Persia. The Arabii occupied the country between
Karachi and the Purali (or river of Las Bela), and the Oritae and
Gadrosii apparently combined with other tribes to hold the country
that lay beyond the Purali (or Arabius). He had previously done all
that a good general can do to ensure the success of his movements by
personally reconnoitring all the approaches to the sea by the various
branches of the Indus; by pacifying the people and consolidating his
sovereignty at Patala so as to leave a strong position behind him
entirely subject to Greek authority; and by dividing his force so as
to utilize the various arms with the best possible effect. This force
was comprised in three divisions; one under Krateros included the
heavy transport and invalids, and this was despatched to Persia by a
route which was evidently as well known in that day as it is at
present. It is never contended by any historian that Alexander did not
know his way out of India. On the contrary, Arrian distinctly
insinuates that it was the perversity of pride, the "ambition to be
doing something new and astonishing" which "prevailed over all his
scruples" and decided him to send his crank Indus-built galleys to the
Euphrates by sea, and himself to prove that such an army led by "such
a general" could force a passage through the Makran wilderness where
the only previous records were those of disaster. He had heard that
Cyrus and Semiramis had failed, and that decided him to make the
attempt.

We can follow Krateros no farther than to point out that his route was
by the Mulla (and not the Bolan) Pass to Kalat and Quetta. Thence he
must have taken the Kandahar route to the Helmund, and following that
river down to the fertile and well-populated plains of lower Seistan
(or Drangia) he crossed the Kirman desert by a well-known modern
caravan route, and joined Alexander at or near Kirman; for Alexander
was "on his way to Karmania" at the time that Krateros joined him, and
not at Pura (the capital of the Gadrosii) as suggested by St. John.
One interesting little relic of this march was dug up by Captain
Mackenzie, R.E., during the construction of the fort on the Miri at
Quetta. A small bronze figure of Hercules was brought to light, and it
now rests in the Asiatic Society's Museum at Calcutta.

Alexander, as we have said, left Patala about the beginning of
September. But where was Patala? Probably it was neither Hyderabad (as
suggested by General Cunningham) nor Tatta (as upheld by other
authorities), but about 30 miles S.E. of the former and 60 miles
E.N.E. of the latter, in which locality, indeed, there are ruins
enough to satisfy any theory. From Patala we are told by Arrian that
he marched with a sufficient force to the Arabius; and that is all.
But from Quintus Curtius we learn that it was nine marches to Krokala
(a point easier of identification than most, from the preservation of
the name which survived through mediaeval ages in the Karak--the
much-dreaded pirate of the coast--and can now be recognized in
Karachi) and five marches thence to the Arabius. He started in cool
monsoon weather. His route, after leaving Krokala, is determined by
the natural features of the country as then existing. There was no
shore route in these days. Alexander followed the subsequent mediaeval
route which connected Makran with Sind in the days of Arab ascendancy,
a route that has been used as a highway into India for nearly eight
centuries. It is not the route which now connects Karachi and Las
Bela, but belongs to the later mediaeval phase of history. As the sea
then extended at least to Liari, in the basin of the Purali or
Arabius, we are obliged to locate the position of his crossing that
river as being not far south of Las Bela; where in Alexander's time it
was "neither wide nor deep," and in these days is almost entirely
absorbed in irrigation. This does not, I admit, altogether tally with
the five marches of Quintus Curtius. It would amount to over a hundred
miles of marching, some of which would be heavy, though not very much
of it; but the discrepancy is not a serious one. The Arabius may have
been far to the east of its present channel--indeed, there are old
channels which indicate that it was so, and it does not follow that
the river was crossed at the point at which it was struck. The reason
for placing this crossing so far north is that room is required for
subsequent operations. After crossing, we are told that Alexander
"turned to his left towards the sea" (from which he was evidently
distant some space), and with a picked force he made a sudden descent
on the Oritae. He marched one night only through desert country and in
the morning came to a well-inhabited district. Pushing on with cavalry
only, he defeated the Oritae, and then later joining hands with the
rest of his forces, he penetrated to their capital city. For these
operations he must necessarily have been hedged in between the Purali
and Hala range, which he clearly had not crossed as yet. Now we are
expressly told by Arrian that the capital city of the Oritae was but a
village that did duty for the capital, and that the name of it was
Rambakia. The care of it was committed to Hephaestion that he might
colonize it after the fashion of the Greeks. But we find that
Hephaestion certainly did not stay long there, and could only have left
the native village as he found it, with no very extensive
improvements.

It would be most interesting to decide the position of Rambakia. What
we want to find is an ancient site, somewhere approaching the
sea-coast, say 30 or 40 miles from the crossing of the Purali, in a
district that might once have been cultivated and populous. We have
found two such sites--one now called Khair Kot, to the north-west of
Liari, commanding the Hala Pass; and another called Kotawari,
south-west of Liari, and very near the sea. The latter has but
recently been uncovered from the sand, but an existing mud wall and
its position on the coast indicate that it is not old enough for our
purpose. The other, Khair Kot, is an undoubted relic of mediaeval Arab
supremacy. It is the Kambali of Idrisi on the high-road from Armail
(now Bela) to the great Sind port of Debal, and the record of it
belongs to another history. Nevertheless, Khair Kot is exactly where
we should expect Rambakia to be, and quite possibly where Rambakia
was. Amongst the coins and relics collected there, there is, however,
no trace of Greek inscription; but that this corner of the Bela
district was once flourishing and populous there is ample evidence.

From Rambakia Alexander proceeded with half his targeteers and part of
his cavalry to force the pass which the Gadrosii and Oritae had
conjointly seized "with the design of stopping his progress." This
pass might either have been the turning pass at the northern end of
the Hala, or it might have been on the water-parting from which the
Phur River springs farther on. I should think it was probably the
former, where there is better room for cavalry to act.

Immediately after defeating the Oritae (who apparently made little
resistance) Alexander appointed Leonatus, with a picked force, to
support the new Governor of Rambakia (Hephaestion having rejoined the
army), and left him to make arrangements for victualling the fleet
when it arrived, whilst he pushed on through desert country into the
territory of the Gadrosii by "a road very dangerous," and drawing down
towards the coast. He must then have followed the valley of the Phur
to the coast, and pushed on along the track of the modern telegraph
line till he reached the neighbourhood of the Hingol River. We are
indebted to Aristobulus for an account of this track in Alexander's
time. It was here that the Ph[oe]nician followers of the army
gathered their myrrh from the tamarisk trees; here were the mangrove
swamps, and the euphorbias, which still dot the plains with their
impenetrable clumps of prickly "shoots or stems, so thick set that if
a horseman should happen to be entangled therewith he would sooner be
pulled off his horse than freed from the stem," as Aristobulus tells
us. Here, too, were found the roots of spikenard, so precious to the
greedy Ph[oe]nician followers. These same products formed part of the
coast trade in the days when the Periplus was written, 400 years
later, though there is little demand for them now.

It was somewhere near the Hingol River that Alexander made a
considerable halt to collect food and supplies for his fleet. His
exertions and his want of success are all fully described by Arrian,
as well as the rude class of fishing villages inhabited by
Ichthyophagi, all the latter of which might well be cut out of the
pages of Greek history and entered in a survey report as modern
narrative. After this we have but slight indications in Arrian's
history of Alexander's route to Pura, the capital of Gadrosia. Three
chapters are full of most graphic and lively descriptions of the
difficulties and horrors of that march. We only hear that he reached
Pura sixty days after leaving the country of the Oritae, and there is
no record of the number of troops that survived. Luckily, however, the
log kept by the admiral of the fleet, Nearkhos, comes into our
assistance here, and though it is still Arrian's history, it is
Nearkhos who speaks.

We must now turn back to follow the ships. I cannot enter in detail
into the reasons given by General Haig, in his interesting pamphlet on
the Indus Delta Country, for selecting the Gharo creek as the
particular arm of the Indus which was finally selected for the passage
of the fleet seaward. I can only remark that whilst the nature of the
half-formed delta of that period is still open to conjecture, so that
I see no reason why the island of Krokala, for instance, should not
have been represented by a district which bears a very similar name
nowadays, I fully agree that the description of the coast as given by
Nearkhos can only possibly apply to that section of it which is
embraced between the Gharo creek and Karachi.

It is only within very recent times that the Gharo has ceased to be an
arm of the Indus. For the present, at any rate, we cannot do better
than follow so careful an observer as General Haig in his conclusions.
There can be little doubt that Alexander's haven, into which the fleet
put till the monsoon should moderate, and where it was detained for
twenty days, was _somewhere near_ Karachi. That it was the modern
Karachi harbour seems improbable. Of all parts of the western coast of
India, that about Karachi has probably changed its configuration most
rapidly, and there is ample room for conjecture as to where that haven
of refuge of 2000 years ago might actually have been. Let us accept
the fleet of river-built galleys, manned with oars, and open to every
phase of wind and weather, as having emerged from it about the
beginning of October, and as having reached the island of Domai, which
I am inclined to identify with Manora.

Much difficulty has been found in making the estimate of each day's
run, as given in stadia, tally with the actual length of coast. I
think the difficulty disappears a good deal if we consider what means
there were of making such estimates. Short runs in the river between
known landmarks are very fairly consistent in the Greek accounts. On
the basis of such short runs, and with a very vague idea of the effect
of wind and tide, the length of each day's run at sea was probably
reckoned at so much per hour. There could hardly have been any other
way of reckoning open to the Greeks. They recognized no landmarks
after leaving Karachi. Even had they been able to use a log-line it
would have told them but little. Wind and current (for the currents on
this part of the sea mostly follow the monsoon wind) were either
against them or on their beam all the way to the Hingol, and they
encountered more than one severe storm which must have broken on them
with the full force of a monsoon head wind. From the point where the
fleet rounded Cape Monze and followed the windings of the coast to the
harbour of Morontobara the estimates, though excessive, are fairly
consistent; but from this point westward, when the full force of
monsoon wind and current set against them, the estimates of distance
are very largely in excess of the truth, and continue so till the
pilot was shipped at Mosarna who guided them up the coast of Persia.
Thenceforward there is much more consistency in their log. It must not
be supposed that Nearkhos was making a voyage of discovery. He was
following a track that had often been followed before. It was clear
that Alexander knew the way by sea to the coasts of Persia before he
started his fleet, and it is a matter of surprise rather than
otherwise that he did not find a pilot amongst the Malli, who, if they
are to be identified with the Meds, were one of the foremost sea-going
peoples of Asia. His Ph[oe]nician and Greek sailors evidently were
strangers to the coast, and some of his mixed crew of soldiers and
sailors had subsequently to be changed for drafts from the land
forces.

We cannot now follow the voyage in detail, nor could we, even if we
would, indicate the precise position of those islands of which Arrian
writes between Cape Monze and Sonmiani; some of them may now be
represented by shoals known to the coasting vessels, whilst others may
be connected with the mainland. I have no doubt myself that
Morontobara (the "woman's haven") is represented by the great
depression of the Sirondha lake. Between Morontobara and Krokala
(which about answers to Ras Kachari) they touched at the mouth of the
Purali, or Arabius, not far from Liari, having an island which
sheltered them from the sea to windward, which is now part of the
mainland. Near by the mouth of the Arabius was another island "high
and bare" with a channel between it and the mainland. This, too, has
been linked up with the shore formation, and the channel no longer
exists, but there is ample evidence of the ancient character of this
corner of the coast. Between the Arabius and Krokala (three days'
sail) very bad weather was made, and two galleys and a transport were
lost. It was at Krokala that they joined hands with the army again.
Here Nearkhos formed a camp, and it was "in this part of the country"
that Leonatus defeated the Oritae and their allies in a great battle
wherein 6000 were slain. Arrian adds that a full account of the action
and its sequel, the crowning of Leonatus with a golden crown by
Alexander, is given in his other work, but as a matter of fact the
other account is so entirely different (representing the Oritae as
submitting quietly) that we can only suppose this to have been a
separate and distinct action from the cavalry skirmish mentioned
before.

It must be noted that the coast hereabouts has probably largely
changed. A little farther west it is changing rapidly even now, and it
is idle to look for the names given by the Greeks as marking any
positive locality known at present. Hereabouts at any rate was the
spot where Alexander with such difficulty had collected ten days'
supplies for the fleet. This was now put on board, and the bad or
indifferent sailors exchanged for better seamen. From Krokala, a
course of 500 stadia (largely over-estimated) brought them to the
estuary of the Hingol River (which is described a winter torrent under
the name of Tomeros), and from this point all connection between the
fleet and the army appears to have been lost. It was at the mouth of
the Hingol that a skirmish took place with the natives which is so
vividly described by Nearkhos, when the Greeks leapt into the sea and
charged home through the surf. Of all the little episodes described in
the progress of the voyage this is one of the most interesting; for
there is a very close description given of certain barbarians clothed
in the skins of fish or animals, covered with long hair, and using
their nails as we use fish-knives, armed with wooden pikes hardened in
the fire, and fighting more like monkeys than men. Here we have the
real aboriginal inhabitants of India. Not so very many years ago, in
the woods of Western India, a specimen almost literally answering to
the description of Nearkhos was caught whilst we were in the process
of surveying those jungles, and he furnished a useful contribution to
ethnographical science at the time. Probably these barbarians of
Nearkhos were incomparably older even than the Turanian races which we
can recognize, and which succeeded them, and which, like them, have
been gradually driven south into the fastnesses of Central and
Southern India.

Makran is full of Turanian relics connecting it with the Dravidian
races of the south; but there is no time to follow these interesting
glimpses into prehistoric ethnography opened up by the log of
Nearkhos. Nor, indeed, can we follow the voyage in detail much
farther, for we have to take up the route of Alexander, about which
very much less has hitherto been known than can be told about the
voyage of Nearkhos. We may, however, trace the track of Nearkhos past
the great rocky headland of Malan, still bearing the same name that
the Greeks gave it, to the commodious harbour of Bagisara, which is
likely enough the Damizar, or eastern bay, of the Urmara headland. The
Padizar, or western bay, corresponds more nearly with the name
Bagisara, but as they doubled a headland next day it is clear they
were on the eastern side of the Isthmus. The Pasiris whom he mentions
have left frequent traces of their existence along the coast. Kalama,
reached on the second day from Bagisara, is easily recognizable in the
Khor Khalmat of modern surveys, and it is here again that we can trace
a very considerable extension of the land seawards that would
completely have altered the course of the fleet from the coasting
track of modern days. The island of Karabine, from which they procured
sheep, may very well have been the projecting headland of Giaban, now
connected by a low sandy waste with the mainland. It could never have
been the island of Astola, as conjectured by M'Crindle and others.
From Kalama to Kissa (now disappeared) and Mosarna, along the coast
called Karbis (now Gazban), the course would again be longer than at
present, for there is much recent sand formation here; and when we
come to Mosarna itself, after doubling the headland of Jebel Zarain,
we find the harbour completely silted up. It may be noted that this
western bay of Pasni was probably exactly similar to the Padizar of
Urmara or of Gwadur, and that there is a general (but not universal)
tendency to shallowing on the western sides of all the Makran
headlands. Here they took the pilot on board, and after this there was
little difficulty.

In three more days they made Barna (or Badara), which answers to
Gwadur, where were palm trees and myrtles, and we need follow them for
the present no farther. Colonel Mockler, who was well acquainted with
the Makran coast, but hardly, perhaps, appreciated all the changes
which the coast-line has undergone (neither, indeed, did I till the
surveys were complete), has traced the course of that historic fleet
with great care. He has pointed out correctly that two islands (Pola
and Karabia) have disappeared from the eastern neighbourhood of the
Gwadur headland and one (Derenbrosa) from its western extremity; and
he might have added that yet another is breaking up, and rapidly
disappearing off the headland of Passabandar, near Gwadur. He has
identified Kyiza (or Knidza), the small town built on an eminence not
far from the shore, which was captured by stratagem, beyond doubt, and
has traced the fleet from point to point with a careful analysis of
all existing records that I cannot pretend to imitate. We cannot,
however, leave Nearkhos without a passing reference to that island on
the coast of the Ichthyophagi, and which was sacred to the sun, and
which was, even in those days, enveloped in such a halo of mystery and
tradition that even Arrian holds Nearkhos up to contempt for expending
"time and ingenuity in the not very difficult task of proving the
falsehood" of these "antiquated fables." I have been to that island,
the island of Astola, and the tales that were told to Nearkhos are
told of it still. There, off the southern face of it, is the "sail
rock," the legendary relic of a lost ship which may well have been the
transport which Nearkhos did undoubtedly lose off its rocky shores.
There, indeed, I did not find the Nereid of such fascinating manners
and questionable customs as Nearkhos describes on the authority of the
inhabitants of the coast, but sea-urchins and sea-snakes abounded in
such numbers as to make the process of exploration quite sufficiently
exciting; and there were not wanting indications of those later days
when the Meds (now an insignificant fish-eating people scattered in
the coast hamlets) were the dreaded pirates of the Arabian Sea, and
used to convey the crews of the ships they captured to that island,
where they were murdered wholesale. It is curious that the name given
by Nearkhos is Nosala, or Nuhsala. In these days it is Astola, or more
properly Hashtala, sometimes even called Haftala. I am unable to
determine the meaning of the termination to which the numerals are
prefixed. Another name for it is Sangadip, which is also the mediaeval
name for Ceylon. There can be no doubt about the identity of this
island of sun worship and historic fable.

We must now turn to Alexander. We left him near the mouth of the
Hingol, then probably four or five miles north of its present
position, and nearer the modern telegraph line. So far he had almost
step by step followed out the subsequent line of the Indo-Persian
telegraph, and at the Hingol he was not very far south of it. Near
here Leonatus had had his fight with the Oritae, and Alexander had
spent much time (for it must be remembered that he started a month
before his fleet, and that the fleet and Leonatus at least joined
hands at this point) in collecting supplies of grain from the more
cultivated districts north, and was prepared to resume his march along
the coast, true to his general tactical principle of keeping touch
with his ships. But an obstacle presented itself that possibly he had
not reckoned on. The huge barrier of the Malan range, abutting direct
on the sea, stopped his way. There was no "Buzi" pass (or goat track)
in those days, such as finally and after infinite difficulty helped
the telegraph line over, though there was indeed an ancient stronghold
at the top, which must have been in existence before his time, and was
likely enough the original city of Malan. He was consequently forced
into the interior, and here his difficulties began.

We should be at a loss to follow him here, but for the fact that there
is only one possible route. He followed up the Hingol till he could
turn the Malan by an available pass westward. Nothing here has altered
since his days. Those magnificent peaks and mountains which surround
the sacred shrine of Hinglaz are, indeed, "everlasting hills," and it
was through them that he proceeded to make his way. It would be a
matter of immense interest could one trace any record of the Hinglaz
shrine in classical writings, but there is none that I know of. And
yet I believe that shrine which, next possibly to Juggernath, draws
the largest crowds of pilgrims (Hindu and Mussulman alike) of any in
India, was in existence before the days of Alexander. For the shrine
is sacred to the goddess Nana (now identified with Siva by Hindus),
and the Assyrian or Persian goddess Nana is of such immense antiquity
that she has furnished to us the key to an older chronology even than
that of Egypt. The famous cylinder of Assurbanipal, King of Assyria,
tells us that in the year 645 B.C. he destroyed Susa, the capital of
Elam, and from its temple he carried back the Chaldean goddess Nana,
and by the express command of the goddess herself, took her from
whence she had dwelt in Elam, "a place not appointed her," and
reinstated her in her own sanctuary at Urukh (now Warka in
Mesopotamia), whence she had originally been taken 1635 years before
by a conquering king of Elam, who had invaded Accad territory. Thus
she was clearly a well-established deity in Mesopotamia 2280 years
B.C. Alexander, however, would have left that Ziarat hidden away in
the folds of the Hinglaz mountain on his left, and followed the
windings of the Hingol River some forty miles to its junction with a
stream from the west, which would again give him the chance of
striking out parallel to the coast.

We should be in some doubt at what particular point Alexander left the
Hingol, but for the survival of names given in history as those of a
people with whom he had to contend, viz. the Parikanoi, the Sagittae,
and the Sakae, names not mentioned by Arrian. Now, Herodotus gives the
Parikanoi and Asiatic Ethiopians as being the inhabitants of the
seventeenth satrapy of the Persian Empire, and Bellew suggests that
the Greek Parikanoi is a Greek transcript of the Persian form of
Parikan, the plural of the Sanscrit Parva-ka--or, in other words, the
_Ba-rohi_--or men of the hills. However this may be, there is the bed
of the stream called Parkan skirting the north of the Taloi range and
leading westwards from the Hingol, and we need look no farther for the
Parikanoi. In support of Bellew's theory it may be stated that it is
not only in the heart of the Brahui country, but the Sajidi are still
a tribe of Jalawan Brahuis, of which the chief family is called Sakae,
and that they occupy territory in Makran a little to the north of the
Parkan. There is every reason why Alexander should have selected this
route. It was his first chance of turning the Malan block, and it led
most directly westwards with a trend towards the sea. But at the time
of the year that he was pushing his way through this low valley
flanked by the Taloi hills, which rose to a height of 2000 feet above
him on his left, there would not be a drop of water to be had, and the
surrounding wilderness of sandy hillocks and scanty grass-covered
waste would afford his troops no supplies and no shelter from the
fierce autumn heat. All the miseries of his retreat were concentrated
into the distance (about 200 miles) between the Hingol and the coast.

The story of that march is well told by Arrian. It was here that
occurred that gallant episode when Alexander proudly refused to drink
the small amount of water that was offered him in a helmet, because
his army was perishing with thirst. It must have been near the harbour
of Pasni, once again almost on the line of the present telegraph, that
Alexander emerged from the sand-storm with but four horsemen on to
the sea-coast at last, and instantly set to work to dig wells for his
perishing troops. Thenceforward Arrian tells us only that he marched
for seven days along the coast till he reached the well-known highway
to Karmania, when he turned inland, and his difficulties were at an
end. Now, that well-known highway was almost better known then than it
is now. He could only leave the coast near the Dasht River at Gwadur,
and strike across into the valley of the Bahu, which would lead him
through a country subsequently great in Arabic history, over the yet
unsuspected sites of many famous cities, to Bampur, the capital of
Gadrosia. From leaving the coast to Bampur the duration of his march
with an exhausted force would be little less than a month. Working
backward again from that same point (which may be regarded as an
obligatory one in his route) the seven days' weary drag through the
sand of the coast would carry him no farther than from the
neighbourhood of Pasni, and that is why I have selected that point for
the historic episode of his guiding his army by chance and emerging on
to the shore unexpectedly, rather than the neighbourhood of the Basol
River, to which the Parkan route should naturally have led him. He
clearly lost his way, as Arrian says he did, or else the estimated
number of marches is wrong. We are told by Arrian that he reached
Pura, the capital of Gadrosia, on the sixtieth day after leaving the
country of the Oritae. This is a little indefinite, as he may be
considered to have left the country of the Oritae when he started to
collect supplies from the northern district, and we do not know how
long he was on this reconnaissance. Probably, however, the date of
leaving the coast and striking inland up the Hingol River is the date
referred to by Arrian, in which case we may estimate that he spent
about twenty-four days negotiating the fearful country opened up to
him on the Parkan route ere he touched the seashore again. This is by
no means an exaggerated estimate if we consider the distance
(something short of 200 miles) and the nature of his army. A
half-armed mob, which included women and children, and of which the
transport consisted of horses and mules and wooden carts dragged by
men, cannot move with the facilities of a modern brigade. Nor would a
modern brigade move along that line with the rapidity that has
distinguished some of our late man[oe]uvres in South Africa. On the
whole, I think the estimate a probable one, and it brings us to
Bampur, the ancient capital of Gadrosia.

We have now followed Alexander out of India into Persia. Thenceforward
there are no great geographical questions to decipher, or knots to be
untied. His progress was a progress of triumph, and the story of his
retreat well ends with the thrilling tale of his meeting again with
Nearkhos, after the latter had harboured his fleet at the mouth of the
Minab River and set out on the search for Alexander, guided by a
Greek who had strayed from Alexander's army. Blackened by exposure and
clothed in rags, Nearkhos was unrecognized till he announced himself
to the messenger sent to look for him. Even Alexander himself at first
failed to recognize his admiral in the extraordinary apparition that
was presented to him in his camp, and could only believe that his
fleet must have perished and that Nearkhos and Arkias were sole
survivors. We can imagine what followed. Those were days of ready
recognition of service and no despatches, and all Persia was open to
the conquerors to choose their reward.

After Alexander's time many centuries elapsed before we get another
clear historic view into Makran, and then what do we find? A country
of great and flourishing cities, of high-roads connecting them with
well-known and well-marked stages; armies passing and re-passing, and
a trade which represented to those that held it the dominant
commercial power in the world, flowing steadily century after century
through that country which was fatal to Alexander, and which we are
rather apt now to consider the fag-end of the Baluchistan wilderness.
The history of Makran is bound up with the history of India from time
immemorial. Not all the passes of all the frontiers of India put
together have seen such traffic into the broad plains of Hindustan as
for certainly three, and possibly for eight, centuries passed through
the gateways of Makran. As one by one we can now lay our finger on
the sites of those historic cities, and first begin faintly to measure
the importance of Makran to India ere Vasco da Gama first claimed the
honour of doubling the Cape and opened up the ocean highway, we can
only be astonished that for four centuries more Makran remained a
blank on the map of the world.

FOOTNOTE:

[3] _Indus Delta Country_, 1894.




CHAPTER VI

CHINESE EXPLORATIONS--THE GATES OF THE FAR NORTH


There are many gateways into India, gateways on the north as well as
the north-west and west, and although these far northern ways are so
rugged, so difficult, and so elevated that they can hardly be regarded
as of political or strategic importance, yet they are many of them
well trodden and some were once far better known than they are now.
Opinions may perhaps differ as to their practical value as military or
commercial approaches under new conditions of road-making, but they
never have, so far, been utilized in either sense, and the interest of
them is purely historical. These are the ways of the pilgrims, and we
are almost as much indebted to Chinese records for our knowledge of
them as we are to the researches of modern explorers.

For many a century after Alexander had left the scene of his Eastern
conquests historical darkness envelopes the rugged hills and plains
which witnessed the passing of the Greeks. The faith of Buddha was
strong before their day, but the building age of Buddhism was later.
No mention is to be found in the pages of Greek history of the
magnificent monuments of the creed which are an everlasting wonder of
the plains of Upper India. Such majestic testimony to the living force
of Buddhism could hardly have passed unnoticed by observers so keen as
those early Greeks; and when next we are dimly lighted on our way to
identify the lines of movement and the trend of commerce on the Indian
frontier, we find a new race of explorers treading their way with
pious footsteps from shrine to shrine, and the sacred books and
philosophic teaching of a widespreading faith the objects of their
quest. The Chinese pilgrim Fa Hian was the first to leave a permanent
record of his travels. His date is about A.D. 400, and he was only one
of a large number of Chinese pilgrims who knew the road between India
and China far better than any one knew it twenty-five years ago.

Although the northern approaches to India from the direction of China
are rather far afield, yet recent revelations resulting from the
researches of such enterprising travellers as Sven Hedin and Stein,
confirming the older records, require some short reference to the
nature of those communications between the outside world of Asia and
India which distinguished the early centuries of our era. In those
early centuries there was to be found in that western extension of
the Gobi desert which we call Chinese Turkistan, in the low-lying
country, mostly sand-covered, which stretches to a yellow horizon
northward beneath the shimmering haze of an almost perpetual dust
veil, very different conditions of human existence to those which now
prevail. The zone of cultivation fed by the streams of the Kuen Lun
was wider, stretching farther into the desert. Rivers ran fuller of
water, carrying fertility farther afield; great lakes spread
themselves where now there are but marshes and reeds, and cities
flourished which have been covered over and buried under accumulating
shifting sand for centuries. A great central desert there always has
been within historic period, but it was a desert much modified by
bordering oases of green fertility, and a spread of irrigated
cultivation which is not to be found there now.

Amongst the most interesting relics recovered from some of these
unearthed cities are certain writings in Karosthi and Brahmi (Indian)
script, which testify to the existence of roads and posts and a
regular system of communication between these cities of the plain,
which must have been in existence in those early years of the
Christian era when Karosthi was a spoken language in Northern India.
All this now sand-buried country was Buddhist then, and a great city
overlooked the wide expanse of the Lop Lake, and the rivers of the
southern hills carried fertility far into the central plain. When the
pilgrim Fa Hian trod the weary road from Western China to Chinese
Turkistan by way of Turfan and the Buddhist city of Lop, he followed
in a groove deep furrowed by the feet of many a pilgrim before him,
and a highway for devotees for many a century after.

Strange as it may seem, the ancient people of this desert waste--the
people who now occupy the cultivated strip of land at the foot of the
Kuen Lun mountains which shut them off from Tibet--are an Indian race,
or rather a race of Indian extraction, far more allied to the
Indo-European than to any Mongol, Chinese, Tibetan, or Turk race with
which they may have been recently admixed. Did they spread northward
from India through the rugged passes of Northern Kashmir, taking with
them the faith of their ancestors? We do not know; but there can be
little doubt that the Chanto of the Lop basin and of Turfan is the
lineal successor of the people who welcomed the Chinese pilgrims in
their search after truth. Buddhist then and Mahomedan now, they seem
to have lost little of their genial spirit of hospitality to
strangers.

Khotan (Ilchi) was the central attraction of Western Turkistan, one at
least of the most blessed wayside fountains of faith, the ultimate
sources of which were only to be found in India. Those ultimate
sources have long left India. They are concentrated in Lhasa now,
which city is still the sanctuary of Buddhism to the thousands of
pilgrims who make their way from China on the east and Mongolia on the
north as full of devout aspiration and of patient searching after
spiritual knowledge as was ever a Chinese pilgrim of past ages. Not
only was Western Turkistan full of the monuments and temples of
Buddhism scattered through the length of the green strips of territory
which bordered the dry steppe of the central depression watered on the
north by the Tarim River, and on the south by the many mountain
streams which rushed through the gorges of the Kuen Lun, but there was
an evident extension of outward and visible signs of the faith to the
northward, embracing the Turfan basin, which in many of its physical
characteristics is but a minor repetition of that of Lop, and possibly
even as far west as the great Lake Issyk Kul. Thus the old pilgrim
route to India from Western China, which was chosen by the devotee so
as to include as many sacred shrines as could possibly be made to
assist in adding grace to his pilgrimage, was a very different route
to that now followed by the pious Mongolian or Western Chinaman to
Lhasa.

Avoiding the penalties of the Nan Shan system of mountains which
guards the Tibetan plateau on the north-east, these early pilgrims
held on their journey almost due west, and, skirting the Mongolian
steppe within sight of the Tibetan frontier hills, they reached
Turfan; then turning southward, they passed on to the Lop Nor lake
region by a well-ascertained route, which at that time intersected the
well-watered and fertile land of Lulan. There is water still in the
lower Tarim and in the Konche River beds, but it has proved in these
late years to be useless for agricultural development owing to the
increasing salinity of the soil. Several recent attempts at
recolonizing this area have resulted in total failure. From the Lop
Lake to Khotan _via_ Cherchen the old-world route was much the same as
now, but the width of fertility stretched farther north from the Kuen
Lun foothills, and the temples of Buddhism were rich and frequent, and
thus were pious pilgrims refreshed and elevated every step of the way
through this Turkistan region. Khotan appears to have been the local
centre of the faith. No lake spread out its blue waters to catch the
sky reflections here, but from the cold wastes of Tibet, through the
gorges of the great Kuen Lun range, the waters of a river flowed down
past the temples and stupas of Ilchi to find their way northward
across the sands to the Tarim.

The high ritual of Buddhism in its ancient form was strange and
imposing. When we read Fa Hian's account of the great car procession,
we are no longer surprised at the effect which Buddhist symbolism
exercised on its disciples. Fa Hian and his fellow-travellers were
lodged in a sangharama, or temple of the "Great Vehicle," where were
three thousand priests "who assemble to eat at the sound of the
_ghanta_. On entering the dining hall their carriage is grave and
demure, and they take their seats in regular order. All of them keep
silence; there is no noise with their eating bowls; when the
attendants give more food they are not allowed to speak to one another
but only to make signs with the hand." "In this country," says Fa
Hian, "there are fourteen great sangharamas. From the first day of the
fourth month they sweep and water the thoroughfares within the city
and decorate the streets. Above the city gate they stretch an awning
and use every kind of adornment. This is when the King and Queen and
Court ladies take their place. The Gomati priests first of all take
their images in the procession. About three or four li from the city
they make a four-wheeled image car about 30 feet high, in appearance
like a moving palace adorned with the seven precious substances. They
fix upon it streamers of silk and canopy curtains. The figure is
placed in the car with two Bodhisatevas as companions, while the Devas
attend on them; all kinds of polished ornaments made of gold and
silver hang suspended in the air. When the image is 100 paces from the
gate the King takes off his royal cap, and changing his clothes for
new ones proceeds barefooted, with flowers and incense in his hand,
from the city, followed by his attendants. On meeting the image he
bows down his head and worships at its feet, scattering the flowers
and burning the incense. On entering the city the Queen and Court
ladies scatter about all kinds of flowers and throw them down in wild
profusion. So splendid are the arrangements for worship!"[4] Thus
writes Fa Hian, and it is sufficient to testify to the strength of
Buddhism and the magnificence of its ritual in the third century of
our era, when India still held the chief fountains of inspiration ere
the holy of holies was transferred to Lhasa and the pilgrim route was
changed.

So far, then, we need not look for the influence exercised by the most
recent climatic pulsation of Central Asia which has dried up the
water-springs and allowed the sand-drifts to accumulate above many of
the minor townships of the Lop basin, in order to account for the
trend of Asiatic religious history towards Tibet. It was the gradual
decay of the faith, and its final departure from its birthplace in the
plains of India in later centuries, which sent pilgrims on another
track, and left many of the northern routes to be rediscovered by
European explorers in the nineteenth century. Most of the Chinese
pilgrims visited Khotan, but from Khotan onward their steps were bent
in several directions. Some of them visited Ki-pin, which has been
identified with the upper Kabul River basin. Here, indeed, were
scattered a wealth of Buddhist records to be studied, shrines to be
visited, and temples to be seen. The road from Balkh to Kabul and from
Kabul to the Punjab was pre-eminently a Buddhist route. Balkh, Haibak,
and Bamian all testify, as does the neighbourhood of Kabul itself, to
the existence of a lively Buddhist history before the Mahomedan
Conquest, and between Kabul and India there are Buddhist remains near
Jalalabad which rival in splendour those of the Swat valley and the
Upper Punjab. All these places were objects of devout attention
undoubtedly, but to reach Kabul _via_ Balkh from Khotan it would be
necessary to cross the Pamirs and Badakshan. It is not easy to follow
in detail the footsteps of these devotees, but it is obvious that
until they entered the "Tsungling" mountains they remained north of
the great trans-Himalayan ranges and of the Hindu Kush. The Tsungling
was the dreaded barrier between China and India, and the wild tales of
the horrors which attended the crossing of the mountains testify to
the fact that they were not much easier of access or transit at the
beginning of the Christian era than they are now.

The direct distance between Khotan and Balkh is not less than 700
miles, and 700 miles of such a mountain wilderness as would be
involved by the passing of the Pamirs into the valley of the Oxus and
the plains of Badakshan would represent 900 to 1000 of any ordinary
travelling. And yet there appear to be indications of a close
connection between these two centres of Buddhism. The great temple a
mile or two to the west of Khotan, called the Nava Sangharama, or
royal new temple, is the same as that to the south-west of Balkh,
according to a later traveller, Hiuen Tsiang, while the kings of
Khotan were said to be descended from Vaisravana, the protector of the
Balkh convent. No modern traveller has crossed Badakshan from the
Pamirs to Balkh, but the general conformation of the country is fairly
well ascertained, and there can be no doubt that the journey would
occupy any pilgrim, no matter how devout and enthusiastic, at least
two and a half months, and another month would be required to traverse
the road from Balkh _via_ Hiabak, or Baiman, over the Hindu Kush to
Kabul.

Now we are told that Fa Hian journeyed twenty-five days to the Tsen-ho
country, from whence, by marching four days southward, he entered the
Tsungling mountains. Another twenty-five days' rugged marching took
him to the Kie-sha country, a country "hilly and cold" in "the midst
of the Tsungling mountains," where he rejoined his companions who had
started for Ki-pin. It is therefore clear that he did not rejoin them
at Kabul, nor could they have gone there; and the question
arises--Where is Kie-sha? The continuation of Fa Hian's story gives
the solution to the riddle. Another month's wandering from Kie-sha
across the Tsungling mountains took him to North India. It was a
perilous journey. The terrors of it remained engraved on the memory of
the saint after his return to his home in China. Great "poison
dragons" lived in those mountains, who spat poison and gravel-stones
at passing pilgrims, and few there were who survived the encounter.
The impression conveyed of furious blasts of mountain-bred winds is
vivid, and many travellers since Fa Hian's time have suffered
therefrom. "On entering the borders" of India he came to a little
country called To-li. To-li seems to be identified beyond dispute with
Darel, and with this to guide us we begin to see where our pilgrims
must have passed. Fifteen days more of Tsungling mountain-climbing
southwards took him to Wuchung (Udyana), where he remained during the
rains. Thence he went "south" to Sin-ho-to (Swat), and finally
"descended" into Gandara, or the Upper Punjab.

From these final stages of his journey India-ward there is little
difficulty in recognizing that Kie-sha must be Kashmir. In the first
place, Kashmir lies on the most direct route between Chinese Turkistan
and India. Nor is it possible to believe that the wealth of Buddhist
remains which now appeal to the antiquarian in that delightful garden
of the Himalayas were not more or less due to the first impulse of the
devotees of the early faith to plant the seeds of Buddhism where the
passing to and fro of innumerable bands of pilgrims would of
necessity occur. Through Kashmir lay the high-road to High Asia, at
that time included in the Buddhist fold, where Indian language had
crystallized and corroborated the faith that was born in India. Thus
it was that glorious temples arose amidst the groves and on the slopes
of Kashmir hills, and even in the days of Fa Hian, when Buddhism was
already nine centuries old, there must have been much to beguile the
pilgrim to devotional study. In short, Kashmir could not be overlooked
by any devotee, and whether the direct route thither was taken from
Khotan, or whether Kashmir was visited in due course from Northern
India, we may be certain that it was one of the chief objectives of
Chinese pilgrimage.

Fa Hian says so little about the kingdom of Kie-sha which can be made
use of to assist us, that it is not easy to identify the part of
Kashmir to which he refers. Twenty-five days after entering the
Tsungling mountains would enable him to reach the valley of Kashmir by
the Karakoram Pass, Leh, and the Zoji-la at the head of the Sind
valley. It is not a matter of much consequence for our purposes which
route he took, as it is quite clear that all these northern routes
were open to Chinese pilgrim traffic from the very earliest times. The
alternative route would be to the head of the Tagdumbash Pamir, over
the Killik Pass, and by Hunza to Gilgit and Astor. The Hunza country
(Kunjut) has always had an attraction for the Chinese. It has been
conquered and held by China, and is still reckoned by its inhabitants
as part of the Chinese Empire. Hunza and Nagar pay tribute to China to
this day.

If we remember that the pains and penalties of a pilgrimage over any
of the Hindu Kush passes, or by the Karakoram (the chief trade route
through all time), to India, is as nothing to the trials which modern
Mongolian pilgrims undergo between China and Lhasa, over the terrible
altitudes of the Tibetan plateau, there will be little to surprise us
in these earlier achievements. Pioneers of exploration in the true
sense they were not, for the Himalayan byways must have been as well
known to them as were the Asiatic highways to Alexander ere he
attempted to reach India. We may assume, however, that Fa Hian entered
the central valley of Kashmir from Leh, for it gives a reasonable
pretext for his choice of a route out of it. It is not likely that he
would go twice over the same ground. He witnessed the pomp and
pageantry of Buddhist ritual in Kie-sha. The King of the country had
kept the great five-yearly assembly. He had "summoned Sramanas from
the four quarters, who came together like clouds." Silken canopies and
flags with gold and silver lotus-flowers figure amongst the
ritualistic properties, and form part of the processional arrangements
which end with the invariable offerings to the priests. "The King,
taking from the chief officer of the Embassy the horse he rides, with
its saddle and bridle, mounts it, and then, taking white taffeta,
jewels of various kinds, and things required by the Sramanas, in union
with his ministers, he vows to give them all to the priests. Having
thus given them, they are redeemed at a price from the priests." No
mention is made of the price, but as the Kashmiri of the past has been
excellently well described by another pilgrim as a true prototype of
the Kashmiri of the present, it is unlikely that the King lost much by
the deal.

The description of Kie-sha as "in the middle of the Tsungling range"
would hardly apply to any country but Kashmir, and the fact is noted
that from Kie-sha towards India the vegetation changes in character.
Having crossed Tsungling, we arrive at North India, says Fa Hian, but
to reach the "little country called To-li" (Darel) he would have to
cross by the Burzil Pass into the basin of the Indus, and then follow
the Gilgit River to a point under the shadow of the Hindu Koh range,
opposite the head-waters of the Darel. Crossing the Hindu Koh, he
would then drop straight into this "little country." Remembering
something of the nature of the road to Gilgit ere our military
engineers fashioned a sound highway out of the rocky hill-sides, one
can sympathize with the pious Fa Hian when recalling in after years
the frightful experiences of that journey.

A few miles beyond Gilgit the rough evidences of a ruined stupa, and a
still rougher outline of a Buddhist figure cut on the rocks which
guard a narrow gorge leading up the Hindu Koh slopes, points to the
take-off for Darel. No modern explorer has followed that route, except
one of the native explorers of the Indian survey who travelled under
the soubriquet of "the Mullah." The Mullah made his way through the
Darel valley to the Indus, and describes it as a difficult route.
There is little variation in the tale of troubled progress, but "the
Mullah" makes no mention of Buddhist relics, nor is it likely that
they would have appealed to him had he seen them. There can be little
doubt, however, that Darel holds some hidden secrets for future
enterprise to disclose. "Keeping along Tsungling, they journeyed
southward for fifteen days," says Fa Hian. "The road is difficult and
broken with steep crags and precipices in the way. The mountain-side
is simply a stone wall standing up 10,000 feet. Looking down, the
sight is confused and there is no sure foothold. Below is a river
called Sintu-ho (Indus). In old days men bored through the walls to
make a way, and spread out side ladders, of which there are seven
hundred in all to pass. Having passed the ladders, we proceed by a
hanging rope bridge to cross the river." All this agrees fairly well
with the Mullah's account of ladders and precipices, and locates the
route without much doubt. The Darel stream joins the Indus some 30 to
35 miles below Chilas, where the course of the latter river is
practically unsurveyed. Crossing the Indus, Fa Hian came to Wuchung,
which is identified with Udyana, or Upper Swat, and there he remained
during the rains. The Indus below the Darel junction is confined
within a narrow steep-sided gorge with hills running high on either
side, those on the east approaching 15,000 and 16,000 feet. There are
villages, groups of flat-roofed shanties, clinging like limpets to the
rocks, but there is little space for cultivation, and no record of
Buddhist remains north of Buner. No systematic search has been
possible.

Investigations such as led to the remarkable discovery by Dr. Stein of
the site of that famous Buddhist sanctuary marking the spot where
Buddha, in a former birth, offered his body to the starving tigress on
Mount Banj, south of Buner, have never been possible farther north, on
account of the dangerous character of the hill-people of those
regions. Other Chinese pilgrims, Song Yun (A.D. 520) and Huec Sheng,
have recorded that after leaving the capital of ancient Udyana (near
Manglaor, in Upper Swat) they journeyed for eight days south-east, and
reached the place where Buddha made his body offering. "There high
mountains rose with steep slopes and dizzy peaks reaching to the
clouds," etc. "There stood on the mountain the temple of the collected
bones which counted 300 priests." But there is no mention of other
Buddhist sites of importance in the valley of the Indus. Leaving
Udyana, Fa Hian and his companions went south to the country of
Su-ho-to (Lower Swat), and finally ("descending eastward") in five
days found themselves in Gandhara--or the Upper Punjab. Nine days'
journey eastward from the point where they reached Gandhara they came
to the place of Buddha's body-offering, or Mount Banj. Such, in brief
outline, is the story of one pilgrim's journey across the Himalayas to
India. Other pilgrims undoubtedly entered India _via_ the Kabul River
valley, but we need hardly follow them. There were hundreds of them,
possibly thousands, and the pains and penalties of the pilgrimage but
served to add merit to their devotion.

The point of the story lies in its revelation as regards connection
between Central Asia and India in the early centuries A.D. Clearly
there was no pass unknown or unvisited by the Chinese. Not merely the
direct routes, but all the connecting ways which linked up one
Buddhist centre with another were equally well known. What has
required from us a weary process of investigation to overcome the
difficulties of map-making, was to them, if not exactly an open book,
certainly a geographical record which could be turned to practical
use, and it is instructive to note the use that was made of it. As a
pious duty, bristling with difficulty and danger, travel over the
wandering tracks which pass through the northern gates of the
Himalayas was regarded with fervour; but it may be taken for granted
that less pious-minded adventurers than the Chinese pilgrims would
most certainly have made good use of that geographical knowledge to
exploit the riches of India had such a proceeding been possible. We
know that attempts have been made. From the earliest times the Mongol
hordes of China and Central Asia have been directed on India, and no
gateway which could offer any possible hope of admittance has been
neglected. Baktria (Badakshan), lying beyond the mountain barrier, had
been at their mercy. The successors to Alexander's legions in that
country were swamped and dispersed within a century or two of the
foundation of the Greek kingdom; and the Kabul River way to India has
let in army after army. But these northern passes have not only barred
migratory Asiatic hordes through all ages, but have proved too much
even for small organized Mongol military expeditions.

The Chinese hosts, who apparently thought little of crossing the
Tibetan frontier over a succession of Alpine passes such as no Western
general in the world's history has ever encountered, failed to
penetrate farther than Kunjut. The Mongol invasion of Tibet early in
the sixteenth century (which is so graphically described in the
Tarikh-i-Rashidi by Mirza Haidar) was tentatively pushed into Kashmir
_via_ Ladakh, and was defeated by the natural difficulties of the
country--not by the resistance of the weak-kneed Kashmiri--much,
indeed, as a similar expedition to Lhasa was defeated by cold and
starvation. No modern ingenuity has as yet contrived a method of
dealing with the passive resistance of serrated bands of mountains of
such altitude as the Himalayas. No railway could be carried over such
a series of snow-capped ramparts; no force that was not composed of
Asiatic mountaineers could attempt to pass them with any chance of
success; and these northern lines, these eternal defences of Nature's
making may well be left, a vast silent wilderness of peaks,
undisturbed by man's puny efforts to improve their strength. Certainly
the making of highways in the midst of them is not the surest means of
adding to their natural powers of passive obstruction, although such
public works may possibly be deemed necessary in the interests of
peace and order preservation amongst the "snowy mountain men."

Chinese pilgrims no longer tread those rocky mountain-paths (except in
the pages of Rudyard Kipling's entrancing work), and the tides of
devotion have set in other directions--to Mecca or to Lhasa; but the
fact that thousands of Buddhist worshippers yearly undertake a journey
which, for the hardships entailed by cold and starvation between the
western borders of China and Lhasa, should surely secure for them a
reserve of merit equal to that gathered by their forefathers from the
"Tsungling" mountains, might possibly lead to the question whether the
plateau of Eastern Tibet does not afford the open way which is not to
be found farther west. If a Chinese force of 70,000 men could advance
into the heart of Tibet, and finally administer a severe defeat on the
Gurkhas (which surely occurred in 1792) in Nepal, it is clear that
such a force could equally well reach Lhasa. It is also certain that
the stupendous mountain-chains and the elevated passes, which are the
ruling features of the eastern entrance into Tibet from China, far
exceed in natural strength and difficulty those which intervene
between the plains of India and Lhasa. We are therefore bound to admit
that it might be possible for an unopposed Chinese force to invade
India by Eastern Tibet; possibly even by the valley of Assam. There
is, however, no record that such an attempt has ever been made. The
savage and untamable disposition of the eastern Himalayan tribes, and
their intense hostility to strangers may have been, through all time,
a strong deterrent to any active exploitation of their country; and
the density of the forests which close down on the narrow ways which
intersect their hills, give them an advantage in savage tactics such
as was not possessed by the fighting Gurkha tribe in Nepal. But
whatever the reason may be, there is apparently no record of any
Chinese force descending through the Himalayas into the eastern plains
of India by any of the many ways afforded by the affluents of the
Brahmaputra. We may, I think, rest very well assured that no such
attempt could possibly be made by any force other than Chinese, and
that it is not likely that it ever will be made by them. We do not (at
present) look to the north-east (to China) for the shadows of coming
events in India. We look to the north, and looking in that direction
we are quite content to write down the approach to India by any
serious military force across Tibet or through the northern gateways
of Kashmir to be an impossibility.

The footsteps of the Buddhist pilgrim point no road for the tread of
armies. In the interests of geographical research it is well to follow
their tracks, and to learn how much wiser geographically they were in
their day than we are now. It is well to remember that as modern
explorers we are as hopelessly behind them in the spirit of
enterprise, which reaches after an ethical ideal, as we are ahead of
them in the process of attaining exact knowledge of the world's
physiography, and recording it.

FOOTNOTE:

[4] _Buddhist Records of the Western World_, vol. i. p. 27.




CHAPTER VII

MEDIAEVAL GEOGRAPHY--SEISTAN AND AFGHANISTAN


It was about eight centuries before Buddhism, debased and corrupted,
tainted with Siva worship and loaded with all the ghastly
paraphernalia of a savage demonology, had been driven from India
across the Himalayas, that the Star of Bethlehem had guided men from
the East to the cradle of the Christian faith--a faith so like
Buddhism in its ethical teaching and so unlike in its spiritual
conceptions,--and during those eight centuries Christianity had
already been spread by Apostles and missionaries through the broad
extent of High Asia. Thereupon arose a new propaganda which, spreading
outwards from a centre in south-west Arabia, finally set all humanity
into movement, impelling men to call the wide world to a recognition
of Allah and his one Prophet by methods which eventually included the
use of fire and sword. The rise of the faith of Islam was nearly
coincident (so far as India was concerned) with the fall of Buddhism.
Thenceforward the gentle life-saving precepts of Gautama were to be
taught in the south, and east, and north; in Ceylon, Burma, China, and
Mongolia after being first firmly rooted in Tibet and Turkistan, but
never again in the sacred groves of the land of their birth. And this
raging religious hurricane of Islam swept all before it for century
after century until, checked at last in Western Europe, it left the
world ennobled by many a magnificent monument, and, by adding to the
enlightenment of the dark places of the earth, fulfilled a mission in
the development of mankind. With it there arose a new race of
explorers who travelled into India from the west and north-west,
searching out new ways for their commerce, and it is with them now and
their marvellous records of restless commercial activity that we have
to deal. Masters of the sea, even as of the land, no military and
naval supremacy which has ever directed the destinies of nations was
so widespread in its geographical field of enterprise as that of the
Arabs. The whole world was theirs to explore. Their ships furrowed new
paths across the seas, even as their khafilas trod out new highways
over the land; and at the root of all their movement was the
commercial instinct of the Semite. After all it was the eternal
question of what would pay. Their progenitors had been builders of
cities, of roads, of huge dams for water storage and irrigation, and
directors for public works in Europe, Asia, and Africa. The might of
the sword of Islam but carved the way for the slave-owner and the
merchant to follow. Thus it is that mediaeval records of exploration in
Afghanistan and Baluchistan are mostly Arab records; and it is from
them that we learn the "open sesame" of India's landward gates, long
ere the seaports of her coasts were visited by European ships.

Nothing in the history of the world is more surprising than the rapid
spread of Arab conquests in Asia, Africa, and Western Europe at the
close of the seventh century of our era, excepting, perhaps, the
thoroughness of the subsequent disappearance of Arab influence, and
the absolute effacement of the Arabic language in those countries
which Arabs ruled and robbed. In Persia, Makran, Central Asia, or the
Indus valley, hardly a word of Arabic is now to be recognized.
Geographical terms may here and there be found near the coast,
surviving only because Arab ships still skirt those shores and the
sailor calls the landmarks by old-world names. Even in the English
language the sea terms of the Arab sailor still live. What is our
"Admiral" but the "Al mir ul bahr" of the Arabian Sea, or our "Barge"
but his "Barija," or warship! But in Sind, where Arab supremacy lasted
for at least three centuries, there is nothing left to indicate that
the Arab ever was there.

The effacement of the Arab in India is chiefly due to the Afghan, the
Turk, and the Mongol. Mahmud of Ghazni put the finishing blow to Arab
supremacy in the Indus valley, when he sacked Multan about the
beginning of the eleventh century; and subsequently the destroying
hordes of Chenghiz Khan and Tamerlane completed the final downfall of
the Empire of the Khalifs.

Between the beginning of the eighth century and that of the eleventh
the whole world of the Indian north-west frontier and its broad
hinterland, extending to the Tigris and the Oxus, was much traversed
and thoroughly well known to the Arab trader. In Makran we have seen
how they shaped out for themselves overland routes to India,
establishing big trade centres in flourishing towns, burying their
dead in layers on the hill-sides, cultivating their national fruit,
the date, in Makran valleys, and surrounding themselves with the
wealth and beauty of irrigated agriculture. The chief impulse to Arab
exploration emanated from the seat of the Khalifs in Mesopotamia, and
the schools of Western Persia and Bagdad appear to have educated the
best of those practical geographers who have left us their records of
travel in the East; but there are indications of an occasional influx
of Arabs from the coasts of Southern Arabia about whom we learn
nothing whatever from mediaeval histories. It will be at any rate
interesting to discuss the general trend of exploration and travel,
associated either with pilgrimage or commerce, which distinguished the
days of Arab supremacy, and which throws considerable light on the
geography of the Indian borderland before its political features were
rearranged by the hand of Chenghiz Khan and his successors. This has
never yet been attempted by the light of recent investigations, and
even now it can only be done partially and indifferently from the want
of completed maps. The borderland which touches the Arabian
Sea--Southern Baluchistan--has been completely explored and mapped,
and the more obvious inferences to be derived from that mapping have
already been made. But Seistan, Karmania, the highways and cities of
Turkistan (Tocharistan) and Badakshan have not, so far as I know, been
outlined in any modern work based on Arab writings and collated with
the geographical surveys of the Russo-Afghan Boundary Commission and
their reports. It was after all but a cursory examination of a huge
area of most interesting country that was possible within the limited
time devoted to boundary demarcation labours in 1883-85; but the
physical features of this part of Asia being now fairly well defined,
there is a good deal to be inferred with reasonable probability from
the circumstance that highways and cities must ever be dependent for
their location on the distributions of topography.

The first impression produced by the general overlook of all the
historic area which lies between Eastern Persia and the sources on the
Oxus, is one of surprise. There is so little left of this great busy
world of Arab commerce. It seems to have dropped out of the world's
economy, and certain regions to have reverted to a phase of pristine
freedom from sordid competition, which argues much for a decreased
population and a desiccated area of once flourishing lands.

There are no forests and jungles in Western Afghanistan, or at least
only in restricted spaces on the mountain-slopes, so that there is no
wild undergrowth uprooting and covering the evidences of man's busy
habitation such as we find in Ceylon and the Nepal Tarai; where may be
seen strange staring stone witnesses of the faith of former centuries,
half hidden amidst the wild beauty and luxuriance of tropical forest
growth. There is nothing indeed quite so interesting. Nature has
spread out smooth grass slopes carpeted with sweet flowers in summer,
but frozen and windswept in winter; and beneath the surface we know
for a surety that the buried remains of centuries of busy traffic and
marketing lie hidden, but there is frequently no sign whatever above
ground. It is difficult to account for the utter want of visible
evidence. In the processes of clearing a field for military action,
when it becomes essential to remove some obstructive mud-built village
and trace a clear and free zone for artillery fire, it is often found
that the work of destruction is exceedingly difficult. Only with the
most careful management can the debris be so dispersed that it affords
no better cover to the enemy than the village which it once
represented. As for effacing it altogether, only time, with the
assistance of wind and weather, can accomplish that. But it is
remarkable with what completeness time succeeds. I have stood on the
site of a buried city in Sind--a city, too, of the mediaeval era of
Arab ascendency--and have recognized no trace of it but what appeared
to be the turbaned effigies of a multitude of faithful mourners in
various expressive attitudes of grief and despair, who represented the
ancient cemetery of the city. The city had been wiped off the land as
clean as if it had been swept into the sea, but the burying places
remained, and the stone mourners continue mourning through the
centuries.

The architectural order of these Khalmat tombs is quite Saracenic, and
the vestiges of geometrical design which relieve the plain surface of
the stone work and accentuate the lines of arch and moulding, are all
clean cut and clear. At the end of each tomb, set up on a pedestal,
the folded turban testifies in hard stone to the faith of the occupant
beneath. The sharp edges of the slabs and the clearness of the
ornamental carving are sufficient to prove that the age of these tombs
and monuments cannot be so very remote, although remote enough to have
led to the effacement of the township to which they belong. Sometimes
a mound, where no mound would naturally occur, indicates the base of
one of the larger buildings. Sometimes in the slanting rays of the
evening sun certain shadows, unobserved before, take shape and
pattern themselves into the form of a basement; and almost always
after heavy rain strange little ornaments, beads, and coins, glass
bangles, rings, etc., are washed out on the surface which tell their
own tale as surely as does the widespread and infinitely varied
remnants of household crockery. This last feature is sometimes quite
amazing in its variety and extent, and the quality of the local finds
is not a bad indication of the quality of the local household which
made use of it. "Celadon" ware is abundant from Karachi to Babylon,
and some of it is of extraordinary fineness and beauty of glaze. Pale
sage green is invariably the colour of it, and the tradition of luck
which attaches to it is common from China to Arabia.

In places where vanished towns were in existence as late as the
eighteenth century (for instance, in the Helmund valley below Rudbar),
debris of pottery may be found literally in tons. In other places,
still living, where generations of cities have gradually waxed and
waned in successive stages, each in turn forming the foundation of a
new growth, it is very difficult to derive any true historical
indication from the debris which is to be found near the surface.
Nothing but systematic and extensive excavation will suffice to prove
that the existing conglomeration of rubbishy bazaars and ruined
mosques is only the last and most unworthy phase of the existence of a
city the glory of whose history is to be found in the world-wide
tradition of past centuries. And so it happens that, moving in the
footsteps of these old mediaeval commercial travellers, with the story
of their travels in one's hand, and the indications of hill and plain
and river to testify to the way they went, and a fair possibility of
estimating distances according to their slipshod reckoning of a "day's
journey," one may possess the moral certainty that one has reached a
position where once there stood a flourishing market-town without the
faintest outward indication of it. Without facilities for digging and
delving, and the time for careful examination, there must necessarily
be a certain amount of conjecture about the exact locality of some
even of the most famous towns which were centres of Arab trade through
High Asia. Some indeed are to be found still under their ancient
names, but others (and amongst them many of great importance) are no
longer recognizable in the place where once they palpitated with
vigorous Eastern life.

The area of Asia which for three or four centuries witnessed the
monopoly of Arab trade included very nearly the whole continent. Asia
Minor may be omitted from that area, and the remoter parts of China;
but all the Indian borderland was literally at their feet; and we can
now proceed to trace out some of their principal lines of route and
their chief halting-places in those districts of which the mediaeval
geography has lately become known.

It is not at all necessary, even if it were possible, to follow the
records of all the eminent Arab travellers who at intervals trod these
weary roads. In the first place they often copied their records from
one another, so that there is much vain repetition in them. In the
second place they are not all equally trustworthy, and their writing
and spelling, especially in place-names, wants that attention to
diacritical marks which in Eastern orthography is essential to correct
transliteration. It is perhaps unfortunate that the most eminent
geographer amongst them should not have been a traveller, but simply a
compiler.

Abu Abdulla Mohamed was born at Ceuta in Morocco towards the end of
the eleventh century. Being descended from a family named Idris, he
came to be known as Al Idrisi. The branch of the family from which
Idrisi sprang ruled over the city of Magala. He travelled in Europe
and eventually settled at the Court of Roger II. in Sicily. Here he
wrote his book on geography. He quotes the various authors whom he
consulted in its compilation, and derived further information from
travellers whose accounts he compared and tested. The title of his
work is _The Delight of those who seek to wander through the Regions
of the World_, and it is from the French translation of this work by
Jaubert that the following notes on the countries lying beyond the
western borders of India are taken. This account may be accepted as
representing the condition of political and commercial geography
throughout those regions at the end of the eleventh century, some
eighty years or so after the borders of India had been periodically
harried by Mahmud of Ghazni, and not very long before the Mongol host
appeared on the horizon and made a clean sweep of Asiatic
civilization.

To the west of the Indian frontier in those early days lay the Persian
provinces of Makran and Sejistan (Seistan), which two provinces
between them appear to represent a great part of modern Baluchistan.
The "Belous" were not yet in Baluchistan; they lived north of the
mountains occupied by the "Kufs," with whom they are invariably
associated in Arab geography. "The Kufs," says Idrisi, "are the only
people who do not speak Persian in the province of Kerman. Their
mountains reach to the Persian Gulf, being bordered on the north by
the country of Najirman (?Nakirman), on the south and east by the sea
and the Makran deserts, on the west by the sea and the 'Belous'
country and the districts of Matiban and Hormuz." These are doubtless
the "Bashkird" mountains, and the "species of Kurd, brave and savage"
which inhabited them under the name of Kufs probably represent the
progenitors of the present inhabitants.

The "Bolous" or "Belous" lived in the plains to the north "right up
to the foot of the mountains," and these are the people (according to
Mr. Longworth Dames) who, hailing originally from the Caspian
provinces, are the typical Baluch tribespeople of to-day.

These mountains, which Idrisi calls the "cold mountains," extend to
the north-west of Jirift and are "fertile, productive, and wooded."
"It is a country where snow falls every year," and of which "the
inhabitants are virtuous and innocent." There have been changes since
Idrisi's time, both moral and physical, but here is a strong item of
evidence in favour of the theory of the gradual desiccation which has
enveloped Southern Baluchistan and dried up the water-springs of
Makran. What Idrisi called the "Great Desert" is comprehensive. All
the great central wastes of Persia, including the Kerman desert as
well as the basin of the Helmund south of the hills, the frontier
hills of the Sind border up to Multan, were a part of it, and they
were inhabited by nomadic tribes of "thieves and brigands."

Modern Seistan is a flat, unwholesome country, distributed
geographically on either side of the Helmund between Persia and
Afghanistan. It owes its place in history and its reputation for
enormous productiveness to the fact that it is the great central basin
of Afghanistan, where the Helmund and other Afghan rivers run to a
finish in vast swamps, or lagoons. Surrounded by deserts, Seistan is
never waterless, and there was, in days which can hardly be called
ancient, a really fine system of irrigation, which fertilized a fairly
large tract of now unproductive land on the Persian side of the river.
The amount of land thus brought under cultivation was considerable,
but not considerable enough to justify the historic reputation which
Seistan has always enjoyed as the "Granary of Asia." This traditional
wealth was no doubt exaggerated from the fact that the fertility of
Seistan (like that of the Herat valley, which is after all but an
insignificant item in Afghan territory) was in direct contrast to the
vast expanse of profitless desert with which it was surrounded--a
green oasis in the midst of an Asiatic wilderness.

The Helmund has taken to itself many channels in the course of
measurable time. Its ancient beds have been traced and mapped, and
with them have been found evidences of closely-packed townships and
villages, where the shifting waters and consequent encroachment of
sand-waves leave no sign of life at present.

Century after century the same eternal process of obliteration and
renovation has proceeded. Millions of tons of silt have been deposited
in this great alluvial basin. Levels have changed and the waters have
wandered irresponsibly into a network of channels westward. Then the
howling, desiccating winds of the north-west have carried back
sand-waves and silt, burying villages and filling the atmosphere for
hundreds of miles southward with impalpable dust, crossing the Helmund
deserts even to the frontier of India. There is no measurable scale
for the force of the Seistan winds. They scoop up the sand and sweep
clean the surface of the earth, polishing the rounded edges of the
ragged walls of the Helmund valley ruins. It is a notable fact that no
part of these ruins face the wind. All that is left of palaces and
citadels stands "end on" to the north-west. For a few short months in
the year the wind is modified, and then there instantly arises the
plague of insects which render life a burden to every living thing.
And yet Seistan has played a most important part in the history of
Asia, and may play an important role again.

Arab records are very full of Seistan. The earliest of them that give
any serious geographical information are the records of Ibn Haukel,
but there are certainly indications in his account which engender a
suspicion that he never really visited the country. He mentions the
capital Zarinje (of which the ruins cover an enormous area to the east
of Nasratabad, the present capital) and writes of it as a very large
town with five gates, one of which "leads to Bist." There were
extensive fortifications, and a bazaar of which he reckons the annual
revenue to be 1000 direms.

There were canals innumerable, and always the wind and the windmills.
It is curious that he traces the Helmund as running to Seistan first
and then to the Darya-i-Zarah. This is in fact correct, only the
Darya-i-Zarah (or Gaod-i-Zireh, as we know it) receives no water from
the Helmund until the great Hamun (lagoons) to the north of Nasratabad
are filled to overflow. He also mentions two rivers as flowing into
the Zarah--one from Farah (an important place in his time), which is
impossible, as it would have to cross the Helmund; and one from Ghur.
This indicates almost certainly that the name Zarah was not confined,
as it is now, to the great salt swamp south of Rudbar on the Helmund,
but it included the Hamuns north of Nasratabad, into which the Farah
River and the Ghur River do actually empty themselves. At present
these two great lake systems are separated by about 120 miles of
Helmund River basin, and are only connected occasionally in flood time
by means of the overflow (called Shelag) already referred to. The
mention of Bist, and of the bridge of boats across the river at that
point, is important, for it is clear that about the year A.D. 950 one
high-road for trade eastward was across the desert, _i.e._ _via_ the
Khash Rud valley from Zarinje to about the meridian of 63 E.L. and
then straight over the desert to Bist (Kala Bist of modern mapping).
The further mention of robats (or resting-places) _en route_,
indicates that it was well kept up and a much traversed high-road.
Subsequently Girishk appears to have become the popular crossing-place
of the river, but it is well to remember that the earlier route still
exists, and could readily be made available for a flank march on
Kandahar.

From Idrisi's writings we learn that a century later, _i.e._ about the
end of the eleventh century, the Seistan province extended far beyond
its present limits. Bamian and Ghur (_i.e._ the central hills of
Afghanistan) were _vis-a-vis_ to that province; Farah was included;
and probably the whole line of the frontier hills from the Sulimanis,
opposite Multan, to Sibi and Kalat. It was an enormous province, and a
new light breaks on its traditional wealth in grain and agricultural
produce when we understand its vast extent.

The regions of Ghur and Dawar bordered it to the north, and there is a
word or two to be said about both hereafter. Ghur in the eleventh
century included the valley of Herat and all the wedge of mountainous
country south of it to Dawar, but how far Seistan extended into the
heart of the mountain system which culminates to the south-west of
Kabul it is difficult to say. It is difficult to understand the
statement that Bamian, for instance, bordered Seistan, with Ghur in
between, unless, indeed, in these early days of Ghur's history (for
Ghur was only conquered by the Arabs in A.D. 1020, and was still far
from intertwining its history with that of Ghazni when Idrisi wrote)
the greatness of Bamian overshadowed the light of the lesser valleys
of Ghur, and Bamian was the ruling province of Central Afghanistan.
This, indeed, seems possible. The district of Dawar to the south of
Ghur has always been something of a mystery to geographers. Described
by Idrisi as "vast, rich, and fertile," and "the line of defence on
the side of Ghur, Baghnein, and Khilkh," it would be impossible to
place it without a knowledge of the towns mentioned, were it not that
we are told that Derthel, one of the chief towns of Dawar, is on the
Helmund, and that one crosses the river there "in order to reach
Sarwan." This at once indicates the traditional ford at Girishk as the
crossing-place, and Zamindawar as the Dawar of Idrisi. Khilkh then
becomes intelligible also as a town of the Khilkhi (the people who
then occupied Dawar, described as Turkish by Idrisi, and probably
identified with the modern Ghilzai), and finds its modern
representative in the Kalat-i-Ghilzai which crowns the well-known rock
on the road from Kandahar to Kabul. "The country is inhabited by a
people called Khilkh," says Idrisi. "The Khilkhs are of a Turkish
race, who from a remote period have inhabited this country, and whose
habitations are spread to the north of India on the flank of Ghur and
in western Seistan." Thus the position of the Ghilzai in the
ethnography of Central Afghanistan appears to have been established
long before the days of Mongol irruption. Then as now they formed a
very important tribal community.

It is, however, sometimes difficult to reconcile Idrisi's account of
the routes followed by his countrymen in this part of Asia with
existing geographical features. Deserts and mountains must have been
much the same as they are now, and the best, if not the only, way to
unravel the geographical tangle is to take his itinerary and see where
it leads us. Of Baghnein on the southern borders of Seistan, he says
it is an "agreeable country, fertile and abundant in fruits." From
there (_i.e_. the country, not the town) to Derthel one reckons one
day's journey through the nomad tribes of Bechinks, Derthel being
"situated on the banks of the Helmund and one of the chief towns of
Dawar."

So we have to cross an open uncultivated region for 40 miles or so
from Baghnein to reach Derthel, on the Helmund. Again, "one crosses
the Helmund at Derthel to reach Sarwan--a town situated about one
day's journey off," on which depends a territory which produces
everything in abundance. "Sarwan is bigger than Fars, and more rich in
fruit and all sorts of productions. Grapes are transported to Bost (or
Bist), a town two days distant passing by Firozand, which possesses a
big market, and is on the traveller's right as he travels to Benjawai,
which is _vis-a-vis_ to Derthel." "Rudhan (?Rudbar) is a small town
south of the Helmund."

The Helmund valley has been surveyed from Zamindawar to its final exit
into the Seistan lagoons, and we know that at Girishk there is a very
ancient ford, which now marks, and has always marked, the great
highway from Kandahar to Herat. South of Girishk, at the junction of
the Arghandab with the Helmund, we find extensive and ancient ruins at
Kala Bist; and south of that again there are many ruins at intervals
in the Helmund valley; but these latter are comparatively recent,
dating from the time of the Kaiani Maliks of the eighteenth century.

Assuming that the Helmund fords have remained constant, and placing
Derthel on one side of the river at Girishk and Benjawai on the other,
we find on our modern maps that from the ford it is a possible day's
journey to Kala Sarwan, higher up the Helmund, where "fruit and grapes
are to be had in abundance," and from whence they might certainly have
been sent to Bist, where grapes do not grow. Baghnein, separated from
Derthel by a strip of nomad country, one day's journey wide, might
thus be on either side the Helmund; but its contiguity to Ghur seems
to favour a position to the west, rather than to the east, of the
river, somewhere east of the plains of Bukwa about Washir.

Now it is certain that no Arab traveller, crossing the Helmund desert
from the west by the direct route recently exploited in British Indian
interests below Kala Bist and south of the river, could by any
possibility have reached a grape-growing and highly-cultivated country
in one day's journey. The inference, then, is tolerably clear. Arab
traders and travellers never made use of this southern route. Nor
should we ourselves make use of such a route as that _via_ Nushki and
the Koh-i-Malik Siah, were we not forced into it by Afghan policy. The
natural high-road from the east of Persia and Herat to India is _via_
the plains of Kandahar and the ford of Girishk, and the Arabs, with
all Khorasan at their feet, were not likely to travel any other way.

Undoubtedly the system of approach to the Indus valley, open to Arab
traffic from Syria and Bagdad, most generally used and most widely
recognized was that through the Makran valleys to Karachi and Sind,
whilst the inland route, _via_ Persia and Seistan, made the well-known
ford of the Helmund at Girishk, or the boat bridge at Kala Bist, its
objective, and passed over the river to the plains about Kandahar. But
it is a very remarkable, and possibly a significant, fact that the
continuation of the route to Sind and the Indus valley from the plains
about Kandahar is not mentioned by any Arab writer. Did the Arabs
descend through any of the well-known passes of the frontier--the
Mulla, Bolan, Saki-Sarwar, or Gomul--into the plains of India?
Possibly they did so; but in that case it is difficult to account for
so important a geographical feature as the frontier passes of Sind
being ignored by the greatest geographer of his day.

Following Idrisi's description of the Helmund province we have a brief
itinerary from the Helmund ford (Derthel or Benjawai) to Ghazni, said
to be nine days' journey inland. None of the places mentioned are to
be identified in modern maps except Cariat, which is more than
probably Kariut, a rich and fertile district in the Arghandab valley
in the direct line to Kalat-i-Ghilzai. This route passes well to the
north-east of Kandahar, which was apparently of little account in
Idrisi's days. Although there are extensive ruins at Kushk-i-Nakhud,
indicated by a huge artificial mound half-way between Girishk and
Kandahar, there is nothing in Idrisi's writings by which they can be
identified.

Ghazni was then a large town "surrounded by mud walls and a ditch.
There are many houses and permanent markets in Ghazni; much business
is done there. It is one of the 'entrepots' of India. Kabul is nine
days' journey from it." This is not much to say of the city which had
been enriched by the spoils carried away from Muttra and Somnath, and
by the treasures amassed during seventeen fierce raids of that Mahmud
who, by repeated conquests, made all Northern and Western India
contribute to his treasury.

Later, in 1332, the Arab traveller, Ibn Batuta, writes of Ghazni as a
small town set in a waste of ruins--a description which fits it not
inaptly at the present day; but in Idrisi's time, before the wars with
Ghur led to its destruction, whilst still the wealth of a great part
of India supported its magnificence, and whilst it was still the
theme of glowing panegyric by contemporary historians, one would
expect a rather more enthusiastic notice. But even Kabul (nine days'
journey distant from Ghazni) is only recognized as "_L'une des grandes
villes de l'Inde, entouree de murs_," with a "_bonne citadelle et au
dehors divers faubourgs_."[5]

There is little to interest us, however, in tracing out the routes
that linked up Ghazni and Kabul with the Helmund. They have been the
same through all time, with just the difference of place-names. Towns
and villages, caravanserais and posts, have come and gone, but that
historic road has been marked out by Nature as one of the grandest
high-roads in Asia, from the days of Alexander to those of Roberts.
Two minars tapering to the sky on the plain before Ghazni are all that
are left of its ancient glories, and one cannot but contrast the
scattered debris of that once so famous city with the solid endurance
of the far greater and older architectural efforts in Egypt and
Assyria. Southern Afghanistan is indeed singularly poor and empty of
historic monuments. Even now were Kabul, Kandahar, and Herat, its
three great cities, to be flattened out by a widespread earthquake
there would be little that was not of Buddhist origin left for the
future archaeologist to make a stir about.

Idrisi writes of the Kingdom of Ghur as apart from Herat, although a
great part of the long Herat valley was certainly included. He calls
it a country "mountainous and well inhabited, where one finds springs,
rivers, and gardens--easy to defend and very fertile. There are many
cultivated fields and flocks. The inhabitants speak a language which
is not that of the people of Khorasan, and they are not Mohammedans."
Who were they? The Khilkhis or Ghilzais we know at that time
overspread the southern hills of Dawar; but who were the people
speaking a strange language in the land of the Chahar Aimak where now
dwell the Taimanis, unless they were the Taimanis themselves whose
traditions date from the time of Moses?

More recently the Ghilzais have left Zamindawar, and the Taimanis have
been pressed backward and upward into the central hills by the Afghan
Durani clans, who circle round westward, forming a fringe on the
foothills between Herat and Kandahar, and who have now completely
monopolized Zamindawar. Here, indeed, the truculent Nurzai and
Achakzai, and other elements of the Durani section of Afghan
ethnography, flourish exceedingly, and it is in this corner of
Afghanistan, bordering on the Herat highway to India, that nearly all
the fanatics and ghazis of the country are bred. They presented so
turbulent and uncompromising a front to strangers in 1882 that there
was great difficulty in getting a fair survey of the land of the
Chahar Aimak or of Zamindawar.

The mediaeval provinces of Ghur and Bamain figure so largely in the
records of Arab geography, and appear to have been so fully open to
commerce during the centuries succeeding the Arab conquests, that one
naturally wonders whether there can have been any remarkable change in
the physical configuration of those regions which, in these later
days, has rendered them more inaccessible and unapproachable. The Arab
accounts of trade routes flit easily from point to point, taking
little reckoning of long distances and gigantic ice-bound passes, or
the perils of a treacherous climate. An itinerary which deals with
stupendous mountains and extreme altitudes has little more of
descriptive illustration in these Arab records than such as would
apply to camel tracks across the sandy desert or over the flat plain.
Nor is the distance which figures as a "day's journey" sensibly
changed to suit the route. Forty miles or so across the backbone of
the Hindu Kush is written of in much the same terms as if it were
forty miles over the plains. Giving the Arab travellers all credit for
far greater powers of endurance and determination than we moderns
possess, we must still believe that there is a great deal of
exaggeration (or forgetfulness) in these heroic records of the past.
It is unlikely that the physical conditions of the country have
materially changed.

So little has been written of this central region of modern
Afghanistan (within which lie the ruins of more than one kingdom), so
little has it been traversed by modern explorers, that it may be
useful to give some slight general description of the country with
which these records deal, including Bamain and Kabul and the mountain
system occupied by the Taimani and Hazara tribes as well as the
prolific region of Zamindawar with the routes which traverse it.

No part of Afghanistan has been subject to more speculative theories,
or requires more practical elucidation, than this mountain region in
which so large a share of the drama of Afghan history has been played.
Before the days of the Anglo-Russian agreement on the subject of the
northern boundaries of Afghanistan nothing was known of its geography,
beyond what might be gathered from the doubtful records of Ferrier's
journey--and that was very little. The geography of a country shapes
its history just as surely in the East as in the West, and we have
consequently much new light thrown on the interesting story of the
rise and fall of the Ghur dynasties by the fairly comprehensive
surveys of the region of their turbulent activities which were carried
out in 1882-83.

From these sources we obtain a very fair idea of the general
conformation of Central Afghanistan, _i.e._ that part of Afghanistan
which is occupied by the tribes known as the Chahar Aimak, _i.e._ the
Jamshidis, the Hazaras, Firozkohis, and Taimanis. It consists in the
first place of a huge irregular tableland--or uplift--which has been
deeply scored and eroded by centuries of river action, the rivers
radiating from the central mass of the Koh-i-Babar to the west of
Kabul and flowing in deep valleys either directly northward towards
the Oxus, due west towards Herat (eventually to turn northward), or
south-west in irregular but more or less parallel lines to the Helmund
lagoons in Seistan.

The Kabul River basin also finds its head near the same group of river
sources. The central mountain mass, the Koh-i-Babar, is high, rocky,
generally snow-capped and impassable. To the north it sends down long,
barren, and comparatively gentle spurs to the main plateau level,
which is deeply cut into by the northern system of rivers, including
the Murghab and the Balkh Ab. But the strangest feature in this
network of hydrography is the long, deep, narrow valley (almost
ditch-like in its regularity) which has been eroded by the Hari Rud
River as it makes its way due west, cutting off the sources of the
northern group from those of the Helmund or south-western group. It is
a most remarkable valley, depressed to a depth of 1000 to 2000 feet
below the general plateau level, bounded on the north by a
comparatively level line of red-faced cliffs, and on the south by
another straight flat-backed range called the Band-i-Baian (or farther
west, the Sufed Koh), which has been carved into the semblance of a
range by the parallel valleys of the Hari Rud on the north and the
Tagao Ishlan on the south, which hug the range between them.

No affluents of any consequence join either stream. Either separate or
together they make their way with straight determination westward
towards Herat. South of this curious ditch rise the many streamlets
which work their way, sometimes through comparatively open valleys
where the floor level has been raised by the centuries of detritus,
sometimes through steep and narrow gorges where the harder rock of the
plateau formation presents more difficulties to erosion, into the
great Helmund basin. These are affluents of the Adraskand, the Farah
Rud, and the Helmund, all of which have the same bourne in the Seistan
depression. High up between the Farah Rud and the Helmund affluents
isolated rugged peaks and short ranges crease and crumple the surface
of the inhospitable land of the Hazaras, who occupy all the highest of
the uplands and all the sources of the streams, a hardy, handy race of
Mongols, living in wild seclusion, but proving themselves to be one of
the most useful communities amongst the many in Afghanistan. We have
some of them as sepoys in the Indian Army. Lower down in the same
river basins, where the gentle grass-covered valleys sweep up to the
crests of the hills, cultivation becomes possible. Here flocks of
sheep dot the hill-sides, and the land is open and free; but there are
still isolated and detached ribs of rocky eminence rising to 11,000
and 12,000 feet, maintaining the mountainous character of the scenery,
and rivers are still locked in the embrace of occasional gorges which
admit of no passing by. This is the land of that very ancient people,
the Taimanis.

The fierce and lawless Firozkohis live in the Murghab basin on the
plateau north of the Hari Rud, the Jamshidis to the west of them in
the milder climate of the lower hills, into which the plateau
subsides.

Whilst we are chiefly concerned in tracing out the mediaeval commercial
routes of Afghanistan, we may briefly summarize the events which prove
that those traversed between Herat and the central kingdoms were
important routes, worn smooth by the feet of armies as well as by the
tread of pack-laden khafilas. They are still very rough and they
present solid difficulties here and there, but in the main they are
passable commercial roads, although little commerce wends its way
about them now.

In the Middle Ages the Kingdom of Ghur included the Herat valley as
far as Khwaja Chist above Obeh in the valley of the Hari Rud, as well
as all the hill country to the south-east. About the earliest mention
of Ghur by any traveller is that of Ibn Haukel, who speaks of Jebel al
Ghur, and talks of plains, ring-fenced with mountains, fruitful in
cattle and crops, and inhabited by infidels (_i.e._ non-Mussulmans).
The later history of Ghur is inextricably intertwined with that of
Ghazni.

Mahmud of Ghazni frequently invaded the hills of Ghur which lay to the
west of him, but never made any practical impression on the Ghuri
tribespeople. In 1020, however, Mahomedans conquered Ghur effectually
from Herat. About a century later (this is after the time of Idrisi,
whose records we are following) a member of the ruling Ghuri family
(Shansabi) was recognized as lord of Ghur, and it was one of his sons
(Alauddin) who inflicted such terrible reprisals on Ghazni when he
sacked and destroyed that city and its people. It was about this time
(according to some authorities) that the kingdom of Bamian was founded
by another member of the same family; but we find Bamian distinctly
recognized as a separate kingdom by Idrisi a century or so earlier.
From 1174 to 1214 Bamian was the seat of government of a branch of
this family ruling all Tokharistan (Turkistan), during which period
Seistan and Herat were certainly tributary to Ghur. Ghur then became
so powerful, that it was said that prayers in the name of the Ghuri
were read from uttermost India to Persia, and from the Oxus to Hormuz.

In 1214 Ghur was reduced first by Mahomedans from Khwarezm (Khiva),
and shortly afterwards by Chenghis Khan and his Mongol hosts. About
the middle of the thirteenth century, however, a recrudescence of
power appeared under the Kurt (or Tajik) dynasty subject to the
supreme government of the Mongols. Seistan, Kabul, and Tirah were
then ruled from Herat as the capital of Ghur. Timur finally broke up
Herat and Ghur in 1383, since which time its history has been as
obscure as the geography of the region which surrounded it. Such in
brief is the stormy tale of Ghur, and it leads to one or two
interesting deductions. There was evidently constant and ready
communication with Herat, Bamian, and Ghazni. The capital of Ghur must
have been an important town, situated in a fertile and fairly populous
district, which, although it was mountainous, yet enjoyed an excellent
climate. It must have been a military centre too, with fortresses and
places of defence. During its later history it is clear that Ghur was
often governed from Herat, but in earlier mediaeval days Ghur possessed
a distinct capital and a separate entity amongst Afghan kingdoms, and
was able to hold its own against even so powerful an adversary as
Mahmud of Ghazni, whilst its communications were with Bamian on the
north-east rather than with Kabul, which was then regarded as an
"Indian" city. We can at any rate trace no record of a direct route
between Ghur and Kabul.

In the twelfth century we read that the capital of Ghur was known as
Firozkohi, which name (says Yule) was probably appropriated by the
nomad Aimak tribe now called Firozkohi; but within the limits of what
is now recognized as the habitat of the Firozkohi (_i.e._ the plateau
which forms the basin of the Upper Murghab), it is impossible to find
any place which would answer to what we know of the general condition
of the surroundings and climate of the capital of Ghur, and which
would justify a claim to be considered a position of commanding
eminence. The altitude of the Upper Murghab branches is not more than
6000 to 7000 feet above sea-level, at which height the climate
certainly admits of agriculture, but no place that has been visited,
nor indeed any position in the valleys of the Upper Murghab affluents,
corresponds in any way to what we are told of this capital.

If we look for the best modern lines of communication through Central
Afghanistan we shall certainly find that they correspond with mediaeval
routes, fitting themselves to the conformation of the country. Central
Afghanistan is open to invasion from the north, west, and south, but
not directly from the east. The invasion of Ghur from Ghazni, for
instance, must have been directed by Kalat-i-Gilzai, Kariut, and Musa
Kila (in Zamindawar), to Yaman, which lies a little to the east of
Ghur (or Taiwara). So far as we know there are no passes leading due
west from Ghazni to the heart of the Taimani country.

From the south the Helmund and its affluents offer several openings
into the heart of the Hazara highlands to the east of Taimani land,
amidst the great rocky peaks of which the positions were fixed from
stations on the Band-i-Baian. But there is no certain information
about the inhabited centres of Hazara population; and from what we
know of that desolate region of winter snow and wind, there never
could have been anything to tempt an invader, nor would any sound
commercial traveller have dreamt of passing that way from Seistan to
Bamian and Kabul. The idea that Alexander ever took an army up the
Helmund valley, and over the Bamian passes, must be regarded as most
improbable in spite of the description of Quintus Curtius, who
undoubtedly describes a route which presented more difficulties than
are quite appropriate to the regular Kandahar to Kabul road. On the
other hand, from Seistan by the Farah Rud there is a route which is
open to wheeled traffic all the way to Daolatyar on the upper Hari
Rud. Daolatyar may be regarded as the focus of several routes trending
north-eastward from Seistan, with the ultimate objective of Bamian and
the populous valleys of Ghur.

One of the chief affluents of the Farah Rud is now known as the Ghur,
and we need look no farther than this valley for the central interest
of the Ghur kingdom, although the exact position of the capital may
still be open to discussion. Between the Tagao Ghur and the Farah Rud
are the Park Mountains, which are almost Himalayan in general
characteristics and beauty, with delightful valleys and open spaces,
terraced fields, well-built two-storied wooden houses, pretty
villages, orchards with an abundance of walnuts and vines trailing
over the trees; the Ghur valley itself being broad and open with a
clear river of sweet water in its midst. This is near its junction
with the Farah Rud. Above this, for a space, the valley narrows to a
gorge and there is no passing along it, whilst above the gorge again
it becomes wide, cultivated, and well populated, and this is where the
Taimani headquarters of Taiwara are found. Taiwara is locally known as
Ghur, and may be absolutely on the site of the ancient capital, for
there are ruins enough to support the theory. Beyond an intervening
band of hills to the south are two valleys full of cultivation and
trees, wherein are two important places, Nili and Zarni, which
likewise boast of extensive ruins, whilst at Jam Kala, hard by, there
is perched on a high spur above the road with only one approach, a
remarkable stone-built fort. Yaman, to the east of Taiwara, in the
Helmund drainage, is a permanent Taimani village. Here also are very
ancient ruins, and the people say that they date from the time of
Moses. At that time they say that cups were buried with the dead, one
at the head and one at the foot of the corpse. Our native surveyor
Imam Sharif saw one of these cups with an inscription on it, but was
unable to secure the relic.

Nili and Zarni are in direct connection with Farah, with no
inconvenient break in the comparatively easy line of communication;
and they all (including Taiwara) are in direct communication with
Herat, by a good khafila route (_i.e._ good for camels). But the
routes differ widely, that from Herat to Taiwara by Farsi being more
direct, whilst the route from Herat to Zarni by Parjuman (which is
well kept up between these two places) passes well to the south. All
these places, again, are connected with the Hari Rud valley at Khwaja
Chist (the Ghur frontier) by a good passable high-road, which first
crosses the hills between Zarni and Taiwara, then passes under the
shadow of a remarkable mountain called Chalapdalan, or Chahil Abdal
(12,700 feet high--about which many mysterious traditions still
hover), over the Burma Pass into the Farah Rud drainage, thence over
another pass into the valleys of the Tagao Ishlan, and finally over
the Band-i-Baian into the Hari Rud valley at Khwaja Chist.

This is the route described by Idrisi as connecting Ghur with Herat,
as we shall see. The Ghur district is linked up with Daolatyar and
Bamian by the Farah Rud line of approach, or by a route, described as
good, which runs east into the Hazara highlands, and then follows the
Helmund. The latter is very high. There is therefore absolutely no
difficulty in traversing these Taimani mountain regions in almost any
direction, and the facility for movement, combined with the beauty and
fertility of the country, all point unmistakably to Taiwara and its
neighbourhood as the seat of the Ghuri dynasty of the Afghan kings.

The picturesque characteristics of Ghur extend southward to Zamindawar
on its southern frontier, the valleys of the Helmund, the Arghandab,
the Tarnak, and Arghastan--this is a land of open, rolling watersheds,
treeless, but covered with grass and flowers in spring, and crowned
with rocky peaks and ridges of rugged grandeur alternating with the
rich beauty of pastoral fields. The summer of their existence is in
curious contrast to the stern winter of the storm-swept highlands
above them, or the dreary expanse of drab sand-dusted desert below.
The route upstream to the backbone of the mountains, and so over the
divide to the kingdom of Bamian, was once a well-trodden route.

Since so many routes converge on Daolatyar at the head of the Hari Rud
valley, one would naturally look for Daolatyar to figure in mediaeval
geography as an important centre. It is not easy, however, to identify
any of the places mentioned by Idrisi as representing this particular
focus of highland routes. Between Ghur and Herat, or between Ghur and
Ghazni, the difficulty lies in the number and extent of populous
towns, any one of which may represent an ancient site, to say nothing
of ruins innumerable. Between Taiwara and Herat we get no information
from Idrisi till we reach Khwaja Chist on the frontier. He merely
mentions the existence of a khafila road, and then he counts seven
days' journey between Khwaja Chist and Herat, reckoning the first as
"short."

The names of the halting-places between Khwaja Chist and Herat are
Housab, Auca, Marabad, Astarabad, Bajitan (or Najitan), and Nachan.
Auca I have no hesitation in identifying with Obeh. There is a large
village at Marwa which might possibly represent Marabad, and Naisan
would correspond in distance with Nachan, but this is mere guesswork;
to identify the others is impossible, without further examination than
was undertaken when surveying the ground.

The story of the commerce of Central Asia, which centred itself in
Herat in the days of Arab supremacy, has a strong claim on the student
of Eastern geography, for it is only through the itineraries of these
wandering Semetic merchants and travellers that we can arrive at any
estimation of the peculiar phase of civilization which existed in Asia
in the mediaeval centuries of our era; a period at which there is good
reason to suppose that civilization was as much advanced in the East
as in the West. It is not the professional explorers, nor yet the
missionaries (great as are their services to geography), who have
opened up to us a knowledge of the world's highways and byways
sufficient to lead to general map illustration of its ancient
continents, so much as the everlasting pushing out of trade
investigations in order to obtain the mastery of the road to wealth.

India and its glittering fame has much to answer for, but India (that
is to say, the India we know, the peninsula of India) was so much
more get-at-able by sea than by land even in the early days of
navigation, that we do not learn so much about the passes through the
mountains into India as the way of the ships at sea, and the coast
ports which they visited. According to certain Arab writers large
companies of Arabs settled in the borderland and coasts of India from
the very earliest days. Indeed, there are evidences of their existence
in Makran long before the days of Alexander; but there is very little
evidence of any overland approach to India across the Indus.
Hindustan, to the mediaeval Arab, commenced at the Hindu Kush, and
Kabul and Ghazni were "Indian" frontier towns; and the invasions and
conquests of India dating back to Assyrian times include no more than
the Indus basin, and were not concerned with anything farther south.
The Indus, with its flanking line of waterless desert, was ever a most
effectual geographical barrier.

The Arabs entered India and occupied the Indus valley through Makran,
and throughout their writings we find, strangely, little reference to
any of the Indian frontier passes which we now know so well. But in
the north and north-west of Afghanistan, in the Seistan and the Oxus
regions, they were thoroughly at home both as traders and travellers;
and with the assistance of their records we can make out a very fair
idea of the general network of traffic which covered High Asia. The
destroying hordes of the subsequent Mongol invasions, and the
everlasting raids of Turkmans and Persians on the border, have clean
wiped out the greater number of the towns and cities mentioned by
them, and the map is now full of comparatively modern Turkish and
Persian names which give no indication whatever of ancient occupation.
There are, nevertheless, some points of unmistakable identity, and
from these we can work round to conclusions which justify us in
piecing together the old route-map of Northern Afghanistan to a
certain extent. This is not unimportant even to modern geographers.
The roads of the old khafila travellers may again be the roads of
modern progress. We know, at any rate, that the Arabs of 1000 years
ago were much the same as the Arabs of to-day in their manners and
methods. Their routes were camel routes, not horse routes, and their
day's journey was as far as a camel could go in a day, which was far
in the wider and more waterless spaces of desert or uninhabited
country, and very much shorter when convenient halting-places
occurred. These Arab itineraries are bare enumeration of place-names
and approximate distances. As for any description of the nature of the
road or the scenery, or any indication of altitude (which they
possibly had no means of judging), there is not a trace of it; and the
difficulties of transliteration in place-names are so great as to
leave identification generally a matter of mere guesswork.

One of the most interesting geographical centres from which to take
off is Herat, and it may be instructive to note what is said about
Herat itself and its connections with the Oxus and Seistan. Herat,
says Idrisi, is "great and flourishing, it is defended inside by a
citadel, and is surrounded outside by 'faubourgs.' It has many gates
of wood clamped with iron, with the exception of the Babsari gate,
which is entirely of iron. The Grand Mosque of the town is in the
midst of the bazaars.... Herat is the central point between Khorasan,
Seistan, and Fars." Ibn Haukel (tenth century) mentions a gate called
the Darwaza Kushk, which is evidence that Kushk was of importance in
those days, though no separate mention is made of that place; and he
adds that the iron gate was the Balkh gate, and was in the midst of
the city. The strategical value of the position was clearly
recognized.

That grand edifice, the Mosalla, with its mosques and minars, which
stood outside the walls of Herat and was the glory of the town in 1883
(when it was destroyed in the interests of military defence), had no
previous existence in any other form than that which was given it when
it was built in the twelfth century.

Both Ibn Haukel and Idrisi mention a mountain about six miles from
Herat, from which stone was taken for paving (or mill-stones), where
there was neither grass nor wood, but where was a place (in Ibn
Haukel's time, but not mentioned by Idrisi) "inhabited, called Sakah,
with a temple or Church of Christians." Idrisi says this mountain was
"on the road to Balkh, in the direction of Asfaran." This would seem
to indicate that Asfaran, "on the road to Balkh," must be Parana (or
Parwana), an important position about a day's march north of Herat.
Ibn Haukel says nothing about the road to Balkh, which can only be
northward from Herat, but merely mentions that the mountain was on the
desert or uncultivated side of Herat, where was a river which had to
be crossed by a bridge. This could only be _south_ of Herat. Asfaran
is also stated to be on the road to _Seistan_ and to have had four
places dependent on it, one of which was Adraskand; and the route to
Asfaran from Herat is further described as three days' journey
(Idrisi). Ibn Haukel also describes Asfaran as possessing four
dependent towns, and places it between Farah and Herat, or _south_ of
Herat. As Adraskand[6] is a well-known place between Herat and Farah,
we must assume that this is either another Asfaran, or that Idrisi has
made a mistake in copying Ibn Haukel. It might possibly be represented
by Parah, twenty-five miles south-west of Herat, although the limited
area of cultivable ground around renders this unlikely. Subzawar would
indicate a far more promising position for an important trade centre
such as Asfaran must have been, and would accord better with the three
days' journey from Herat of Idrisi, or the itinerary from Farah given
by Ibn Haukel, while the extensive ruins around testify to its
antiquity. Asfaran was almost certainly Subzawar.

Considering the interest which may once again surround the question of
communications from Herat to India, it may be useful to point out that
the route connecting Farah with Herat 1000 years ago remains
apparently unchanged. The bridge called the Pul-i-Malun, over the Hari
Rud, must have been in existence then, and there was another bridge
over the Farah River one day's march below Farah, on the highway
between Herat and Seistan. To the west of Herat, on the ruin-strewn
road to Sarakhs, we have one or two interesting geographical
propositions.

Idrisi mentions a place possessing considerable local importance
"before Herat had become what it is now," about 9 miles west of Herat,
called Kharachanabad. This can easily be recognized in the modern
Khardozan, a walled but very ancient town, which is about 81/2 miles
distant. Between it and the walls of the city there is now no place of
importance, nor does it appear likely, for local reasons, that there
ever could have been any. Another place, called Bousik, or Boushinj
(Pousheng, according to Ibn Haukel), is said to be half the size of
Sarakhs, built on the flat plain 6 miles distant from the mountains,
surrounded with walls and a ditch, with brick houses, and inhabitants
who were commercial, rich, and prosperous, and "who drink the water of
the river that runs to Sarakhs." This indicates a site on the banks of
the Hari Rud. The only modern place of importance which answers this
description is the ancient town of Zindajan, which is about 6 miles
from the mountains, and which (according to Ferrier) still bears the
name of Foosheng. This name, however, was not recognized by the Afghan
Boundary Commission. "To the west of Bousik are Kharkerde and Jerkere.
One reckons two days' journey to this last town, which is well
populated, smaller than Kuseri, but where there is plenty of water and
cultivation. From Jerkere to Kharkerde is two days' journey." These
two places are obviously on the road to Nishapur. There is an ancient
"haoz," or tank, below the isolated hill of Sangiduktar, near the
Persian frontier, which might well represent what is left of Jerkere,
and Kharkerde lies beyond it, on the road to Rue Khaf (itself a very
ancient site, probably representing Rudan), near Karat. Another place
which has a very ancient and troubled history is Ghurian, about
thirteen miles west of Zindajan. This is readily identified as the
Koure of Idrisi, which is described as twelve miles from Bousik, on
the left of the high-road westward, and about three miles from it.

This corresponds exactly with Ghurian, and proves that the high-road
has retained its position through ages. Koure is described as an
important town, but there is no mention of walls or defences. Another
place, second only in importance to Bousik, is Kouseri. It is in fact
said to be equal to Bousik, and to possess "running water and
gardens." There can be little doubt that this is Kuhsan (or Kusan),
one of the most important towns of the Herat valley.

This great high-road, intersecting the plain from the north-west gate
of the city, is a pleasant enough road in the spring and summer
months. For a space it runs singularly free from crowded villages and
close cultivation, and the tread of a horse's hoof is amongst
low-growing flowers of the plain, a dwarf yellow rose with maroon
centre being the most prominent. Then, as one skirts the Kaibar River
as it runs to a junction with the Hari Rud from the northern hills,
cultivation thickens and villages increase.

The road next hugs the Hari Rud, and, passing the high-walled town of
Zindajan to the south, runs, white and even and hard, with the scarlet
and purple of poppies and thistles fringing it, between long gravel
slopes of open dasht and the twin-peaked ridge of Doshak, to Rozanak
and Kuhsan. Kuhsan is a little to the south of the Kaman-i-Bihist. It
was here that the British Commission of the Russo-Afghan Boundary
gathered in the late autumn of 1884, one half from England and the
other half from India. The drab squares of the cultivated plain were
bare then, in November, and the poplars on the banks of the river were
scattering yellow leaves to the blasts of the bitter north-west winds
of autumn which sweep through Khorasan and Seistan, making of life a
daily burden. But there came a marvellous change in the spring-time,
when the world was scarlet and green below and blue above; when the
sand-grouse began to chatter through the clear sky; then
Kaman-i-Bihist (the bow of Paradise) justified its name. The old Arab
of the trading days who wandered northward to Sarakhs must have loved
this place.

Stretching Sarakhs-ward are the hills, rocky and broken along the
river edge, but gradually giving place eastward to easy rounded
slopes, softened by rain and snow, and washed into smooth spurs with
treacherous waterways between which become quagmires under the
influence of a north-western "shamshir." The extraordinary effect of
denudation which yearly results from the heavy rain-storms which are
so frequent in spring and early summer in these hills must have
absolutely changed their outlines during the centuries which have
elapsed since the Semitic trader trod them. A summer storm-cloud
charged with electricity may burst on their summits, and the whole
surface of the slopes at once becomes soft and pulpy. Mud avalanches
start on the steeper grades and carry down thousands of tons of slimy
detritus in a crawling mass, and spread it out in fans at their feet.
It is not safe to say that the modern passes of the Paropamisus north
of Herat--the Ardewan and the Babar--were the passes of mediaeval
commerce, although the Ardewan is marked by certain wells and ruined
caravanserais which show that it has long been used. It seems possible
that these passes may have shifted their positions more than once.
There was undoubtedly a well-trodden route from Bousik, which carried
the traveller more directly to Sarakhs than would the Ardewan or even
the Chashma Sabz Pass. This road followed the river more closely than
any railway ever will. It turned the river gorge to the east, and
probably passed through the hills by the Karez Ilias route, which runs
almost due north to Sarakhs. The only certain indication which we can
find in Idrisi is the statement that the "silver hill" (_i.e._ the
hill of the silver mine) is on the road from Herat to Sarakhs. The
Simkoh (silver hill) is still a well-known feature in the broken range
of the Paropamisus, near that route. But it is difficult after
centuries of disturbing forces, natural and artificial, to identify
the sites of many of the towns and markets mentioned by Idrisi, who
places Badghis to the west of Bousik, and gives the "silver hill" as
one of its "dependencies." There were two considerable towns, Kua (or
Kau) and Kawakir, said to have been near the silver hill, and there is
mention of a place called Kilrin in this neighbourhood. Probably the
ruins at Gulran represent the latter, but Kua and Kawakir are not
identified. Gulran was one of the most fascinating camps of the Afghan
Boundary Commission. On the open grass slopes stretching in gentle
grades northward, bordered by the line of red Paropamisan cliffs to
the south and west and by the open desert stretching to Merv on the
north, it was, during one or two early months of the year, quite an
ideal camping-ground.

It was here that the wild asses of the mountains made a raid on the
humble four-footed followers of the Commission, and signified their
extreme disgust at the free use which was made of their
feeding-grounds; thus witnessing to the condition of primeval
simplicity into which that once populous district had subsided after
centuries of border raid and insecurity. The remains of an old karez,
or underground irrigation channel, not far north of Gulran, testified
to a former condition of cultivation and prosperity.

From Gulran (which is connected with the Herat plains directly by the
pass called Chashma Sabz) roads stretch northwards and north-eastwards,
without obstacle, to the open Turkistan plains, where ancient sites
abound. Idrisi's indications, however, are but a very uncertain
foundation for identifying most of them. The "dependencies" of Badghis
are said to be Kua, Kughanabad, Bast, Jadwa, Kalawun, and Dehertan,
the last place being built on a hill having neither vegetation nor
gardens; but "lead is found there, and a small stream."

The great trade centres of Turkistan, north of the Paropamisus, in
mediaeval days were undoubtedly near Panjdeh, at the confluence of the
Kushk and Murghab rivers, and at Merv-el-Rud, or Maruchak. Two or
three obvious routes lead from the passes above Kaman-i-Bihist, or
above Herat, to Panjdeh and Maruchak. One is indicated by the drainage
of the Kushk River, and the other by that of the Kashan, which is more
or less parallel to the Kushk to the east of it, with desolate Chol
country in between. From Herat the most direct route to Panjdeh and
Merv is by the Babar Pass, or by Korokh, the Zirmast Pass, and Naratu.
Korokh (Karuj) is mentioned both by Ibn Haukel and Idrisi as being
situated three marches from Herat, surrounded by entrenchments, and in
the "gorge of mountains," with gardens and orchards and vines. The
Korokh of to-day is between the mountains, but only some twenty-five
miles from Herat. This modern Korokh has, however, many evidences of
great antiquity, and it is on the high-road to an important group of
passes leading past Naratu to Bala Murghab and Maruchak. The most
remarkable feature about Korokh is a grove of pine trees closely
resembling the "stone" pine of Italy, which mass themselves into a
dark blotch on the landscape and mark Korokh in this treeless country
most conspicuously. There are no other trees of the same sort to be
found now in this part of Asia, but I was told that they once were
abundant in the Herat valley, which renders it possible that the
"arar" trees, mentioned by Ibn Haukel as a peculiar source of revenue
to Bousik, may have been of this species. Naratu, again, is very
ancient, and its position among the hills (for it is a hill-fortress)
seems to identify it with Dahertan. Undoubtedly this was one of the
most important of the old routes northward, and it is a route of which
account should be taken to-day.

In the Kuskh River more than one ancient site was observed, Kila Maur
being obviously one of the most important, whilst in the Kashan stream
there were evidences of former occupation at Torashekh and at
Robat-i-Kashan. Whilst there is a general vague resemblance between
the names of certain old Arab towns and places yet to be found in the
Herat valley and Badghis, it is only here and there that it has been
possible to identify the precise position of a mediaeval site. The
dependencies of Badghis, enumerated by Idrisi, require the patient and
careful researches of a Stein to place them accurately on the basis
of such vague definitions as are given. We are merely told that
Kanowar and Kalawun are situated at a distance of three miles one from
the other, and that between them there is neither running water nor
gardens. "The people drink from wells and from rain-water. They
possess cultivated fields, sheep, and cattle." Such a description
would apply excellently well to any two contiguous villages in the
Chol country anywhere between the Kushk and the Kashan. Those rolling,
wave-like hills, with their marvellous spread of grass and flowers in
summer, and their dreary, wind-scoured bareness in winter, are
excellent for sheep and cattle at certain seasons of the year; but
water is only to be found at intervals, and there are much wider
distances than three miles where not even wells are to be found.

Writing again of Herat, Idrisi says that, starting towards the east in
the direction of Balkh, one encounters three towns in the district of
Kenef: Tir, Kenef, and Lakshur; and that they are all about equally
distant, it being one day's journey to Tir, one more to Kenef, and
another to Lakshur (Lacschour). Tir is a rich town where the "prince
of the country" resides, larger than Bousik, full of commerce and
people, with brick-built houses, etc. Kenef is as large, but more
visited by foreigners; and Lakshur is equal to either. They are all of
them big towns of commercial importance, Lakshur being bounded on the
west by the Merv-el-Rud province, of which the capital is
Merv-el-Rud.

Assuming for the present that Maruchak, on the Murghab, represents
Merv-el-Rud (Merv of the River), where are we to place these three
important sites, so that the last shall be east of the Maruchak
province and only three days' journey from Herat? The distance from
Herat to Maruchak is not less than 150 miles, and it is called by
Idrisi a six days' journey. Starting towards the east can only refer
to the Balkh route already referred to, _i.e._ _via_ Korokh and the
Zirmast Pass. It cannot mean the Hari Rud valley, for that leads to
Bamian rather than Balkh. By the Korokh route, however, it is possible
to follow a more direct line to Balkh than any which would pass by
Maruchak or Bamian. There is on this route, east of Naratu and
south-east of Maruchak, a place called Langar which might possibly
correspond to Lakshur, and it is not more than 70 to 80 miles from
Herat. From Langar there is an easy pass leading over the
Band-i-Turkistan more or less directly to Maimana and Balkh, and it
seems probable that this was a recognized khafila route. Tir is an
oft-repeated name in the Herat district. The river itself was called
Tir west of Herat, and there is the bridge of Tir (Tir-pul) just above
Kuhsan. The mountains, again, to the north-east are known as Tir
Band-i-Turkistan, and the Tir mentioned as on the road to Balkh must
certainly have been east of Herat. Of Kenef I can trace no evidence.
It must have been close to Korokh.

That this route, through the Korokh valley and across the
water-parting by the Zirmast Pass to Naratu, was the high road between
Herat and Balkh I have very little doubt. It was the route selected
for mail service during the winter when the Afghan Boundary Commission
camp was at Bala Murghab, on the Murghab River, and it was seldom
closed by snow, although the Zirmast heights rise to over 7000 feet,
and the Tir Band-i-Turkistan (which represents the northern _rebord_
or revetment of the uplands which contain the Murghab drainage) cannot
be much less. The intense bitterness of a Northern Afghan winter is
more or less spasmodic. It is only the dreaded shamshir (the
"scimitar" of the north-west) which is dangerous, and travelling is
possible at almost every season of the year. The condition of the
mountain ways and passes immediately above Bala Murghab is not that of
steep and difficult tracks across a rugged and rocky divide. In most
cases it is possible to ride over them, or, indeed, off them, in
almost any direction; but as these mountains extend eastward they
alter the character of their crests. From Herat to Maruchak this is
not, however, the direct road; the Kushk River, or the Kashan,
offering a much easier line of approach.

All our investigations in 1884 tended to prove beyond dispute that
Maruchak represents the famous old city of Merv-el-Rud, the "Merv of
the River," to which every Arab geographer refers. Sir Henry Rawlinson
sums up the position in the Royal Geographical Society's _Proceedings_
(vol. viii.), when he points out that there were two Mervs known to
the ancient geographer. One is the well-known Russian capital in
trans-Caspia, the "Merv of the Oasis," a city which, in conjunction
with Herat and Balkh, formed the tripolis of primitive Aryan
civilization. It was to this place that Orodis, the Parthian king,
transported the Roman soldiers whom he had taken prisoners in his
victory over Crassus, and here they seemed to have formed a
flourishing colony.

Merv was in early ages a Christian city, and Christian congregations,
both Jacobite and Nestorian, flourished at Merv from about A.D. 200
till the conquest of Persia by the Mahomedans. Merv the greater has as
stirring a history as any in Asia, but Merv-el-Rud, which was 140
miles south of the older Merv, is altogether of later date. This city
is said to have been built by architects from Babylonia in the fifth
century A.D., and was flourishing at the time of the Arab invasion.
All this Oxus region (Tokharistan) was then held by a race of
Skytho-Aryans (white Huns) called Tokhari or Kushan, and their
capital, Talikhan, was not far from Maruchak. Now, Merv-el-Rud is the
only great city named in history on the Upper Murghab, above Panjdeh,
before the end of the fourteenth century A.D. After that date, in the
time of Shah Rokh (Timur's son), the name Merv-el-Rud disappears, and
Maruchak takes its place in all geographical works, the inference
being that, Merv-el-Rud being destroyed in Timur's wars, Maruchak was
built in its immediate neighbourhood. This surmise of Rawlinson's is
confirmed by the appearance of Maruchak, which is but an insignificant
collection of inferior buildings surrounded by a mud wall, with a
labyrinth of deep canal cuttings in front of it and a rough irregular
stretch of untilled country around. Merv-el-Rud must have been a much
greater place.

There are, however, abundant evidences of grass-covered ruins, both
near Maruchak and at the junction of the Chaharshamba River with the
Murghab some 10 miles above Maruchak. Sir Henry Rawlinson points out
the strategic value of this point, as the Chaharshamba route leads
nearly straight into the Oxus plains and to Balkh. At the point of the
junction of the two rivers the valley of the Murghab hardly affords
room enough for a town of such importance as we are led to believe
Merv-el-Rud to have been, even after making all due allowance for
Oriental exaggeration. It is only about Maruchak that the valley
widens out sufficiently to admit of a large town. It seems probable,
therefore, that the site of Maruchak must be near the site of
Merv-el-Rud, although it does not actually command the entrance to
the Chaharshamba valley and the road to Afghan Turkistan.

On this road, some 30 miles from the junction of the rivers, there is
to be seen on the slopes which flank the southern hills, the jagged
tooth-edged remains of a very old town (long deserted) which goes by
the name of Kila Wali. It is here, or close by, that the Tochari
planted their capital Talikan, at one time the seat of government of a
vast area of the Oxus basin. There is, however, another Talikan[7] in
Badakshan to the east of Balkh, and there are symptoms that some
confusion existed between the two in the minds of our mediaeval
geographers. Ibn Haukel writes of Talikan as possessing more wholesome
air than Merv-el-Rud, and he refers to the river running between the
two. This is evidently in reference to the capital of Tocharistan at
Kila Wali. Again when he writes of Talikan as the largest city in
Tocharistan, "situated on a plain, near mountains," he is correct
enough as applied to Kila Wali, but this has nothing to do with
Andarab and Badakshan with which we find it directly associated in the
context.

On the other hand the Talikan in Badakshan was one of a group of
important cities whose connection with India lay through Andarab and
the northern passes of the Hindu Kush. Between Maruchak and Panjdeh,
along the banks of the Murghab, are ruins innumerable, the sites of
other towns which it is impossible to identify with precision. There
can be little doubt, however, that the remains of the bridge which
once spanned the river at a point between Maruchak and Panjdeh marked
the site of Dizek (or Derak, according to Idrisi), which we know to
have been built on both sides of the river, and that Khuzan existed
near where Aktapa now is (_i.e._ near Panjdeh). The name Dizek is
still to be recognized, but it is applied to a curious sequence of
ancient Buddhist caves which have been carved out of the cliffs at
Panjdeh, and not to any site on the river banks.

The confusion which occasionally exists between places bearing the
same name in mediaeval geographical annals is very obvious in Idrisi's
description of Merv. The greater Merv (the Russian provincial capital)
is clearly mixed up in his mind with the lesser Merv when, in
describing the latter, he says that Merv-el-Rud is situated in a plain
at a great distance from mountains, and that its territory is fertile
but sandy; three grand mosques and a citadel adorn an eminence and
water is brought to it by innumerable canals, all of which is
applicable to Merv but not to Merv-el-Rud. He then continues with a
description of the greater Merv, which is quite apropos to that
locality, and makes it clear incidentally that Khiva (not Merv)
represents the ancient Khwarezm. Again, he enumerates towns and places
of Mahomedan origin which are "dependent" on "Merv." Amongst them we
find Mesiha, a pretty, well-cultivated place one day's journey to the
west of Merv; Jirena (Behvana), a market-town 9 miles from Merv, and 3
from Dorak (? Dizek), a place situated on the banks of the river; then
Dendalkan, an important town two days from Merv on the road to
Sarakhs; Sarmakan, a large town to the left of Dorak and 3 miles
farther, Dorak being situated on the banks of the river at 12 miles
from Merv in the direction of Sarakhs; Kasr Akhif (or Ahnef), a little
town at one day's distance from Merv on the road to Balkh; Derah, a
small town 12 miles from Kasr Ahnef where grapes were abundant. Here,
says Idrisi, the river divides the town in two parts which are
connected by a bridge. It is quite impossible to straighten out this
geographical enumeration, unless we assume that it refers to
Merv-el-Rud and not to Merv. Then Mesiha becomes a possibility, and
might be looked for among the ruined sites on the Kushk
River--possibly at Kila Maur. Dorak, at 12 miles from Merv in the
direction of Sarakhs, and Dendalkan at two days' journey in the same
direction, would still be on the river banks. Kasr Ahnef we know to
have been built after the Arab invasion in the valley of the Murghab,
about 12 miles from Khuzan (identified by Rawlinson with Ak Tepe) and
15 from Merv-el-Rud, and must have been situated near the
Band-i-Nadir, where the desert road to Balkh enters the hills. Ak Tepe
must once have been a place of great importance, both strategically
(as it commands the position of the two important highways southward
to Herat, the Kushk and the Murghab valleys) and commercially. But
apparently its importance did not survive to Arab times. Dendalkan was
certainly near Ak Tepe.

In making our surveys of this historic district it was exceedingly
difficult to associate the drab and dreary landscape of this Chol
(loess) country and its intersecting rivers with such a scene of busy
commercial life as the valleys must have presented in Arab times. The
Kushk is at best a "dry" river, as its name betokens, an
unsatisfactory driblet in a world of sandy desolation. Reeds and
thickets hide its narrow ways, and it is only where its low banks
recede on either hand as it emerges into the flat plains above Panjdeh
that there is room for anything that could by courtesy be called a
town. The Murghab River shows better promise.

Below Maruchak, where towns once crowded, it widens into green spaces,
and the multiplicity and depth of the astonishing system of canals
which distribute the waters of the river on its left bank leave no
room to doubt the strength of the former population that constructed
them. Where the pheasants breed now in myriads, in reedy swamps and
scrubby thickets, there may lie hidden the foundations of many an old
town with its caravanserais, its mosques, and its baths. The economic
value of the Murghab River is still great in Northern Afghanistan. No
one watching the sullen flood pouring past Bala Murghab in the winter
time and looking up to the dark doors of the mountains from whence it
seems to emerge, could have any idea of the wealth and fertility and
the spread of its usefulness which is to be found on the far side of
those doors. From its many cradles in the Firozkohi uplands to its
many streamlets reaching out round Merv and turning the desert into a
glorious field of fertility, the Murghab does its duty bravely in the
world of rivers, and well deserves all that has ever been written in
its praise by past generations of geographers.

Amongst the many high-roads of Northern Afghanistan which are
mentioned by the Arab writers, none is more frequently referred to
than the road from Herat to Balkh, _i.e._ to Afghan Turkistan.
Intervening between Herat and Afghan Turkistan there is immediately
north the easy round-backed range called by various names which have
been lumped under the term Paropamisus, down the northern slopes of
which the Kushk and Kashan made a fairly straight way through the sea
of rounded slopes and smooth steep-sided hills which constitute the
Chol. But this range is but an extension of the southern rampart of
the Firozkohi upland, which forms the upper basin of the Murghab and
overlooks the narrow valley of the Hari Rud.

The northern rampart or buttress of that upland is the Tir
Band-i-Turkistan, the western flank of which is turned by the Murghab
River as it makes its way northward. So that there are several ways by
which Afghan Turkistan may be reached from Herat. Setting aside the
Hari Rud route to Bamian or Kabul, which would be a difficult and
lengthy detour for the purpose of reaching Balkh, there is the route
we have already mentioned _via_ Korokh, Naratu, and Langar, and thence
over the Band-i-Turkistan, or down the Murghab. But there is another
and probably the most trodden way, _via_ the Kashan to the Murghab
valley at the junction of the Chaharshamba River, and up that river to
the divide at its head, passing over into the Kaisar drainage, and so,
either to Andkhui and the Oxus, or to Maimana and Balkh. This was the
route made use of generally by the Russo-Afghan Boundary Commission,
and the existence of ancient tanks (called "Haoz") and of "robats" (or
halting-places) at regular intervals in the Kashan valley, testifies
to its use at no very ancient date.

The entrance to the Chaharshamba valley is very narrow, so narrow as
to preclude the possibility of any large town ever having occupied
this position; but it opens out as one passes the old Kila Wali ruins
where there is ample space for the old capital of Tocharistan to have
existed. On the north, trailing streams descend from the Kara Bel
plateau (a magnificent grass country in summer and a cold scene of
windy desolation in winter), and their descent is frequently through
treacherous marshes and shining salt pitfalls, making it exceedingly
difficult to follow them to the plateau edge. To the south are the
harder features of the Band-i-Turkistan foothills, the crest of the
long black ridge of this Band being featureless and flat, as is
generally the case with the boundary ridges and revetments of a
plateau country. Over the Chaharshamba divide (at about 2800 feet) and
into the Kaisar drainage is an introduction to a country that is
beautiful with the varied beauty of low hill-tops and gentle slopes,
until one either by turning north, debouches into the flat desert
plains of the Oxus at Daolatabad, or continuing more easterly, arrives
at Maimana, the capital of the little province of Almar, the centre of
a small world of highly cultivated and populous country, and a town
which must from its position represent one or other of the ancient
trade centres mentioned by Idrisi. Here we leave behind the long lines
of Turkman kibitkas looking like rows of black bee-hives in the
snow-spread distance, and find the flat-roofed substantial houses of a
settled Uzbek population, with flourishing bazaars and a general
appearance of well-being inside the mud walls of the town.

Idrisi writes that Talikan is built at the foot of a mountain which is
part of the Jurkan range (Band-i-Turkistan), and that it is on the
"paved" route between Merv and Balkh. This at once indicates that
route as an important one compared with other routes (there being a
desert route across the Karabel plateau from near Panjdeh in addition
to those already mentioned), although there is no sign of any serious
road-making to be detected at present. Sixty miles from Talikan, on
the road to Balkh, Idrisi places Karbat, a town not so large as
Talikan but more flourishing and better populated. The distance
reckoned along the one possible route here points to Maimana, which is
just 60 miles from Talikan, but there is no other indication of
identity. Karbat was a dependency of the province of Juzjan (or
Jurkan, probably Guzwan), and 54 miles to the east of it was the town
of Aspurkan, a small town, itself 54 miles from Balkh. Now Balkh, by
any possible route, is at least 130 to 140 miles from Maimana, but if
we assume Aspurkan to have been just half-way (as Idrisi makes it)
between Maimana and Balkh, we find Sar-i-pul (a small place
indifferently supplied with water, and thus answering Idrisi's
description of Aspurkan) almost exactly in that position. In support
of this identification of Aspurkan with Sar-i-pul there is the name
Aspardeh close to Sar-i-pul. Other places are mentioned by Idrisi as
flourishing centres of trade and industry in this singularly favoured
part of Afghanistan, where the low spurs and offshoots of the
Band-i-Turkistan break gently into the Oxus plains. He says that
Anbar, one day's march to the south-west of Aspurkan, was a larger
place than Merv-el-Rud, with vineyards and gardens surrounding it and
a fair trade in cloth. There, both in summer and winter, the chief of
the country resided. Two days from Aspurkan, and one from Karbat, was
the Jewish colony of Yahudia, a walled town with a good commercial
business. This colony is also mentioned by Ibn Haukel as situated in
the district of Jurkan. From Yahudia to Shar (a small town in the
hills) was one day's march. The main road south-west from Sar-i-pul
has probably remained unchanged through the centuries. It runs to
Balangur (? Bala Angur) and Kurchi, the former being 10 miles and the
latter 30 from Sar-i-pul. Either might represent the site of Anbar.
Twenty miles from Kurchi is Belchirag, and Belchirag is about 25 from
Maimana. It would thus represent the site of the ancient Yahudia
fairly well, whilst 25 to 30 miles from Belchirag we find Kala Shahar,
a small town in the mountains, still existing. Jurkan is described as
a town by Idrisi (and as a district by Ibn Haukel), built between two
mountains, three short marches from Aspurkan, and Zakar is another
commercial town two marches to the south-east. I should identify
Jirghan of our maps with Jurkan, and Takzar with Zakar.

All this part of Afghan Turkistan is rich in agricultural
possibilities. The Uzbek population of the towns and the Ersari
Turkmans of the deserts beyond Shibarghan are all agriculturists, and
the land is great in fruit. They are a peaceful people, hating the
Afghan rule and praying for British or any other alternative.
Shibarghan is an insignificant walled town with a small garrison of
Afghan Kasidars; always in straits for water in the dry season. The
road between Shibarghan and Sar-i-pul is flat, skirting the edge of
the rolling Chol to the east of it. Sar-i-pul itself is but a small
walled town in rotten repair, sheltering a few Kasidars and two guns,
but no regular Afghan troops. There are a few Jews there who make and
sell wine, and a few Peshawur bunniahs (shopkeepers).

From Sar-i-pul a direct road runs to Bamian and Kabul _via_ Takzar to
the south-east, and strikes the hill country almost at once after
leaving Sar-i-pul. It surmounts a high divide (about 11,000 feet), and
crosses the Balkh Ab valley to reach Bamian. There is another route up
the Astarab stream leading to Chiras at the head of the Murghab River
and into the Hazara highlands; but these were never trade routes
except for local purposes. The Hazaras send down to the plain their
camel hair-cloth and receive many of the necessities of life in
exchange, but there is no through traffic.

The characteristics of the Astarab road are typical of this part of
Afghanistan. After passing Jirghan the valley is shut in by
magnificent cliffs from 700 to 1000 feet high. The vista is closed by
snow peaks to the south, which, with the brilliancy of up-springing
crops on the banks of the river, form a picture of almost Alpine
beauty. There is, curiously enough, an entire absence of forest in
the valley, but blocks of a soft white clay mixed with mica lend a
weird whiteness to its walls, dazzling the eye, and making patchwork
of Nature's colouring. Snakes abound in great numbers, mostly
harmless, but the deadly "asp-i-mar" is amongst them. There is a
yellow variety which is freely handled by the Uzbeks, who call this
snake Kamchin-i-Shah-i-Murdan. About eight miles beyond Jirghan the
Uzbek population ceases. From this point there are only Firozkohis and
some few Taimanis who have been ejected from the Hari Rud valley for
their misdeeds. They are all robbers by profession, supporting
existence by slave trading. They kidnap girls and boys from the Hazara
villages of the highlands and trade them to the Uzbeks in exchange for
guns, ammunition, and horses. These Taimani robbers are by no means
the only slave dealers. Nearly every well-to-do establishment in
Afghan Turkistan has one or two Hazara slaves. The prices paid, of
course, vary, but 300 krans each was paid for two girls bought in
1883. Expert native authorities have a very high opinion of the
handiness of Hazara slave girls. They are good at needlework, turning
out most exquisite embroidery, and they are never idle.

The narrowness of the Astarab gorge renders it impossible to follow
the river along the whole of its course. The road finally leaves the
valley and strikes up to the plateau on its left bank. One remarkably
persistent feature in these valley formations is the existence of two
plateau levels, or terraces; that immediately overlooking the valley
being sometimes 100 feet lower than the second platform which is
thrown back for a considerable distance, leaving a broad terrace
formation between the line of its cliff edge and that bordering the
stream. Occasionally there is more than one such terrace indicating
former geologic floors of the valley.

On gaining the plateau level a very remarkable scene opens out--a
broad green dasht, or plain, slopes away to a sharp line westwards
bordered by glittering cliffs and intersected by the white line of the
road. In the midst of this setting of white and green are the remains
of what must once have been a town of considerable importance, which
goes by the name locally of the Shahar-i-Wairan, or ancient city. Such
buildings as remain are of sun-dried brick; there appears to be no
indication of the usual wall or moat surrounding this city, and
nothing suggestive of a canal or "karez"; nothing, in short, but
scattered ruins covering about one and a half square miles. The
kabristan (or graveyard) was easily recognizable, and its vast size
furnished some clue to the size of the city. All history, all
tradition even, about this remarkable place seems lost in oblivion;
but a city of such pretensions must have had a fair place in geography
from very early times. It seems improbable, however, that it could
have been more than a summer residence in its palmy days, for winter
at this elevation (nearly 7000 feet) and in such an exposed locality
would be very severe indeed. The only indication which can be derived
from Idrisi's writings is the reference to the small town in the
mountains called Shah (Shahar) one day's march from the Jewish colony
of Yahudia. As already explained there is a Kila Shahar some 25 to 30
miles from Yahudia (if we accept the position of Belchirag as more or
less representing that place), but the Shahar-i-Wairan is nearer by
some 10 miles, and fits better into the geographical scheme. I should
be inclined to identify the Shahar-i-Wairan with the ancient Shahar
(or Shah) and the Kila Shahar as a later development of the same
place. The point, however, to be specially noted about this
geographical theory is that there is no route by which camels can pass
either over the Band-i-Turkistan or the mountains enclosing the Balkh
Ab from the district of Sangcharak southward. The province of
Sangcharak, which corresponds roughly to the ancient district of
Jurkan (or Gurkan), is rich throughout, with highly cultivated valleys
and a dense population, but it is a sort of geographical cul-de-sac.

Communication with the plains of the Oxus and with Balkh (by the lower
reaches of the Balkh Ab) is easy and frequent, but there never could
have been a khafila road over the rugged plateau land and mountains
which divide it from the basin of the Helmund.

From time immemorial efforts have been made to reach Kabul by the
direct route from Herat which is indicated by the remarkable lie of
the Hari Rud valley. It was never recognized as a trade route,
although military expeditions have passed that way; and it has always
presented a geographical problem of great interest. From Herat
eastwards, past Obeh as far as Daolatyar, there is no great difficulty
to be overcome by the traveller, although the route diverges from the
main valley for a space. Between Daolatyar and the head of
Sar-i-jangal stream (which is the source and easternmost affluent of
the Hari Rud) the valley is well populated and well cultivated, with
abundant pasturage on the hills. But the winter here is severe. From
the middle of November to the middle of February snow closes all the
roads, and even after its disappearance the deep clayey tracks are
impassable even for foot travellers. In the neighbourhood of a small
fort called Kila Sofarak, about 40 miles from Daolatyar, there is a
parting of the ways. Over the water-parting at the head of the stream
by the Bakkak Pass a route leads into the Yakulang valley, a
continuation of the Band-i-Amir, or river of Balkh, which, in the
course of its passage through the gorges of the mountains, here forms
a series of natural aqueducts uniting seven narrow and deep lakes.
Inexpressibly wild and impressive is the character of the scenery
surrounding those deep-set lakes in the depths of the Afghan hills.

Near the lakes are the ruins of two important towns or fortresses,
Chahilburj, and Khana Yahudi. On a high rock between them are the
ruins of Shahr-i-Babar the capital of kings who ruled over a country
most of which must have been included in the Hazara highlands, and was
probably more or less conterminous with the Bamian of Idrisi. Between
the Yakulang and the Bamian valley is a high flat watershed. Looking
north-west a vast broken plateau, wrinkled and corrugated by minor
ranges, and scored by deep valleys and ravines, fills up the whole
space from the mountains standing about the source of the Murghab and
Hari Rud to the Kunduz River of Badakshan.

So little is this part of modern Afghanistan known, that it may be as
well to give a short description of the existing lines of
communication connecting the Oxus plains and Herat with Bamian and
Kabul, before attempting to follow out their mediaeval adaptation to
commercial intercourse.

From Balkh, or Mazar-i-Sharif, or from Deh Dadi (the new fortified
position near Mazar) the most direct routes southward either follow
the Balkh Ab valley to Kupruk and the Zari affluent, and then crossing
the Alakah ridge pass into the river valley again, and so reach the
Band-i-Amir and the head of the river at Yakulang; or passing by the
Darra Yusuf (a most important affluent of the Balkh River) attain more
directly to Bamian. Balkh and Mazar lie close together on the open
plain, and about 10 miles to the south of them rises the northern wall
of the plateau called Elburz, through which the Balkh River, and other
drainage of the plateau, forces its passage. Thus the whole course of
the Balkh River, from its head to within a mile or two of Balkh, lies
within a deep and narrow ditch cut out from the plateau which fills up
the space from the Elburz to the great divide of Central Afghanistan.
East and west of the Balkh River the plateau increases in elevation as
it reaches southward, culminating in knolls or peaks 12,000 and 13,000
feet high about the latitude 35 deg. 30', and falling gently where it
encloses the actual sources of the river. It is this plateau, or
uplift, which forms the dominant topographical feature of Northern
Afghanistan.

West of the Balkh Ab it is represented by the Firozkohi uplands, which
contain the head valleys of the Murghab, bordered on the north by the
Tirband-i-Turkistan from the foot of which stretch away towards the
Oxus the endless sand-waves of the Chol, and by the highlands of
Maimana and Sangcharak, and which trend northward to within a few
miles of Balkh. At Balkh its northern edge is well defined by the
Elburz, but between Balkh and Maimana it is more or less merged into
the great loess sand sea, and its limitations become indefinite. East
of the longitude of Balkh it is lost in a distance whither our
surveyors have not traced its outlines, but where without doubt it
fills a wide area north of the Hindu Kush, determining the nature of
the Badakshan River sources and shaping itself into a vast upland
region of mountain and deep sunk gully, and generally preserving the
same characteristics throughout, till it overlooks the valley of the
Oxus. That part of it which embraces the affluents of the Balkh Ab and
the Kunduz is described as intensely wild and dreary, traversed by
irregular folds and ridges which rise in more or less rounded slopes
to great altitudes, hiding amongst them deep-seated valleys and
gulches, wherein is to be found all that there is of cultivation and
beauty. From above it presents the aspect of a huge drab-coloured,
hill-encumbered desert where man's habitation is not, and Nature has
sunk her brightest efforts out of sight. These efforts are to be found
in the valleys, which are excavated by ages of erosion, steep sided,
with precipitous cliffs overhanging, and a narrow green ribbon of
fertility winding through the flat floor of them.

Across those dreary uplands, or else wandering blindfold along the
bottom of the river troughs, run the roads and tracks of the country;
some of them being the roads of centuries of busy traffic. A little
apart from the obvious route supplied by the lower course of the Balkh
Ab, and more important as leading more directly to the crest of the
main divide, is the road from Mazar to the Band-i-Amir district which
is practically the best road to Kabul. This strikes on to the plateau
and crosses several minor passes over spurs dividing the heads of
certain eastern affluents of the Balkh Ab before it drops into the
trough of the Darra Yusuf. Following the course of this river, and
skirting the towns of Kala Sarkari and Sadmurda, it strikes off from
its head over a pass called Dandan Shikan (the "tooth-breaker") into
the Kamard valley which runs eastwards into the big river of
Badakshan--the Kunduz. From Kamard over three passes into the
Saigan--another valley draining deeply eastwards into the Kunduz. From
this again, two parallel routes and passes southward connect Saigan
with the Bamian depression. Here the river of Bamian also runs east,
parallel to Saigan and Kamard (the three forming three parallel
depressions in the general plateau land), but meeting an affluent
draining from the east, the two join and curve northward into the
Kunduz.

This new affluent from the east is important, for it leads over the
easy Shibar Pass into the head of the Ghorband valley and to Charikar.
Finally, there is the well-travelled route from Bamian, leading
southward over the Hajigak Pass into the Helmund valley at
Gardandiwal, where it crosses the river and then proceeds _via_ the
Unai Pass and Maidan to Kabul. Such is the general system of the Balkh
communications with Kabul.

From Tashkurghan, east of Mazar, there are other routes equally
important. There is a direct road southward, which starts through an
extraordinary defile, where perpendicular walls of slippery rock
enclose a narrow cleft which hardly admits the passing of a loaded
mule to Ghaznigak and Haibak. From Haibak you may follow up the
Tashkurgan River to its head and then drop over the Kara Pass into
Kamard at Bajgah, and so to Bamian again; or you may avoid Bamian
altogether and striking off south-east from Haibak over the plateau,
slip down into the Kunduz drainage at Baghlan, and then follow it to
its junction with the Andarab at Dosh. This position at Dosh gives
practical command of all the passes over the Hindu Kush into the Kabul
basin, for the Andarab drains along the northern foot of the Hindu
Kush, and commands the back doors of all passes between the Chapdara
(or Chahardar) and the Khawak.

The most trodden route to-day is that which is the most direct between
Kabul and Mazar, _i.e._ the route _via_ Bamian and the Darra Yusuf.
This is the route taken by the late Amir when he met his cousin Ishak
Khan in the field of Afghan Turkistan and defeated him. It is not the
route taken by the Afghan Boundary Commission in returning from the
same field in 1885. They returned by Haibak and Dosh and deploying
along the northern foot of the Hindu Kush, crossed by nearly every
available pass either into the Ghorband valley or that of the
Panjshir.

It would almost appear from mediaeval geographical record that there
was no way between Herat and Kabul that did not lead to the Bamian
valley. This is very far from accurately representing the actual
position, for Bamian lies obviously to the north of the direct line of
communication. Bamian was undoubtedly a place of great significance,
probably more important as a Buddhist centre than Kabul, more valuable
as a centre trade-market subsequently than the Indian city, as Kabul
was called. But its significance has disappeared, and it is now far
more important for us to know how to reach Kabul directly from the
west than how to pass through Bamian. The route to Bamian and Kabul
from Herat diverges at the small deserted fort of Sofarak, and follows
the Lal and the Kerman valleys at the head of the Hari Rud. Crossing
the Ak Zarat Pass southward there is little difficulty in traversing
the Besud route to the Helmund, from whence the road to Kabul over the
Unai Pass is open. The Bakkak Pass northward is the only real
difficulty between Herat and Bamian; much worse, indeed, than anything
on the route between Herat and Kabul direct; so that we have
determined the existence of a fairly easy route by the Hari Rud from
Herat to Kabul, and another route, with but one severe pass, between
Herat and Bamian. We must, however, remember that we are dealing with
Alpine altitudes. Overlooking the Yakulang head of the Balkh River are
magnificent peaks of 13,000 and 14,000 feet, and the passes are but a
few thousand feet lower. The valley of the Bamian, deep sunk in the
great plateau level, is between 8000 and 9000 feet above sea-level,
and the passes leading out of it are over 10,000 feet. To the south is
the magnificent snow-capped array of the Koh-i-Baba (or probably
Babar, from the name of the ancient people who occupied Bamian), the
culminating group of the central water-parting of Afghanistan running
to 16,000 and 17,000 feet. It is altitude, nothing but sheer altitude,
which is the effectual barrier to approach through the mountains which
divide the Oxus and Kabul basins. Rocky and "tooth-breaking" as may be
the passes of these northern hills they are all practicable at certain
times and seasons, but for months they are closed by the depth of
winter snows and the fierce terror of the Asiatic blizzard. The deep
valleys traversing the storm-ridden plateau are often beautiful
exceedingly, and form a strange contrast to the dull grey expanse of
rocky ridge and treeless plain of the weird plateau land; but in order
to reach them, or to pass from one to the other, high altitudes and
rugged pathways must always be negotiated.

In the days before the Mahomedan conquest, the pilgrim days of devout
Chinese searchers after truth, the footsteps of the Buddhist devotees
can be very plainly traced. Balkh was a specially sacred centre; and
the magnificence of the Bamian relics are also celebrated. We should
not have known precisely the route followed by the pilgrims had they
not left their traces half-way between Balkh and Bamian at Haibak.
Here in the heart of this stony and rugged wilderness is an open
cultivated plain, green with summer crops and streaked with the dark
lines of orchard foliage. Little white houses peep out from amongst
the greenery, and there is a kind of Swiss summer holiday air
encompassing this mountain oasis which must have enchanted the
votaries of Buddha in their time. The Buddhist architects of old were
unsurpassed, even by the Roman Catholic Monks of later ages in the
selection of sites for their monasteries and temples. The sweet
seductions which Nature has to offer in her mountain retreats were as
a thanksgiving to the pilgrim, weary footed and sore with the terrible
experiences of travel which was far rougher than anything which even
the most devoted Hajji can place to the credit of his account with the
recording angel of the present day, and they were appreciated
accordingly. Haibak, although not quite on the straight line to
Bamian, was not to be overlooked as a resting-place, and here one of
the quaintest of all these northern religious relics was literally
unearthed by Captain Talbot[8] during the progress of the Russo-Afghan
surveys. A small circular stupa was discovered cut out of solid rock
below the ground level. It was surrounded by a ditch, and crowned by a
small square-built chamber which was also cut out of the rock _in
situ_. There was nothing to indicate the origin or meaning of a stupa
in such a position, and time was wanting for anything more than a
superficial examination; but here we had the evidence of Buddhist
occupation and Buddhist worship forming a distinct link between Balkh
and Bamian, and marking one resting-place for the weary pilgrim. As
for caves, the country round Haibak appears to be studded with them.

So long must this strange region of ditch-like valleys, carved out of
the wrinkled central highlands of Afghanistan, have existed as the
focus of devout pilgrimage, if not of commercial activity, under the
Bamian kings, that the absence of any record descriptive of the routes
across it is rather surprising. Above the surface of the plateau the
long grey folds of the hills follow each other in monotonous
succession, with little relief from vegetation and unmarked by forest
growth. It is generally a scene of weary, stony desolation through
which narrow, white worn tracks thread their way. In the valleys it is
different. Cut squarely out of the plateau these intersecting valleys,
cliff bound on either side with reddish walls such as border the
valley of Bamian, offer fair opportunity for colonization. Where the
valleys open out there is space enough for cultivation, which in early
summer makes pretty contrast with the ruddy hills that hedge it. Where
it spreads out from the mouth of the gorges nourished by hundreds of
small channels which carry the water far afield, it is in most
charming contrast to the gaunt ruggedness of the hills from whence it
emerges. Such is the general outlook from the Firozkohi plateau,
looking northward into the Oxus plains when the yellow dust haze,
driven southward by the north-western winds, lifts sufficiently from
athwart the plains to render it possible to see towards Maimana or
into the valley of Astarab.

The valley of Bamian stands at a level of about 8500 feet; the passes
out of it northward to Balkh or southward to Kabul rise to 11,000 and
12,000 feet. It is the mystery of its unrecorded history and the local
evidences of the departed glory of Buddhism, which render Bamian the
most interesting valley in Afghanistan. Massive ruins still look down
from the bordering cliffs, and for six or seven miles these cliffs are
pierced by an infinity of cave dwellings. Little is left of the
ancient city but its acropolis (known as Ghulghula), which crowns an
isolated rock in the middle of the valley. Enormous figures (170 and
120 feet high) are carved out of the conglomerate rock on the sides of
the Bamian gorge. Once coated with cement, and possibly coloured, or
gilt, these images must have appealed strongly to the imagination of
the weary pilgrim who prostrated himself at their feet. "Their golden
lines sparkle on every side," says Huen Tsang, who saw them in the
year A.D. 630, when he counted ten convents and 1000 monks of the
"Little Vehicle" in the valley of Bamian.

Twelve hundred and fifty years later the great idols were measured by
theodolite and tape, and duly catalogued as curiosities of the world's
museum. We know very little of the later history of Bamian. The city
was swept off the face of the valley by Chengiz Khan; and Nadir Shah,
in later times, left the marks of his artillery on the face of cliffs
and images. Moslem destroyers and iconoclasts have worked their wicked
will on these ancient monuments, but they witness to the strength and
tenacity of a faith that still survives to sway a third of the human
race.

Chahilburj and Shahr-i-Babar (31 miles above Chahilburj at the
junction of the Sarikoh stream with the Band-i-Amir) with the ruined
fortresses of Gawargar and Zohak, wonderful for the multiplicity of
its lines of defence, all attest to the former position of Bamian in
Afghan history and explain its prominence in mediaeval annals. And yet
there is not much said about the road thither from Balkh, or onward to
the "Indian city" of Kabul.

Idrisi just mentions the road connecting Balkh with Bamian, which he
describes as follows: "From Balkh to Meder (a small town in a plain
not far from mountains) three days' journey. From Meder to Kah
(well-populated town with bazaar and mosque) one day's journey. From
Kah to Bamian three days." Bamian he describes as of about the same
extent as Balkh, built on the summit of a mountain called Bamian, from
which issue several rivers which join the Andarab, possessing a
palace, a grand mosque, and a vast "faubourg"; and he enumerates
Kabul, Ghazni, and Karwan (which we find elsewhere to be near
Charikar) amongst others as dependencies of Bamian.

It is not easy to identify Meder and Kah. The total distance from
Balkh to Bamian is at least 200 miles by the most direct route _via_
the Darra Yusuf. Forty miles a day through such a country must be
regarded as a fine performance, even for Arab travellers who would
think little of 50 or 60 miles over the flats of Turkistan. However,
we must take the record as we find it, and assume that the camels of
those days (for the Arabs never rode horses on their journeys) were
better adapted for work in the hills than they are at present.

The inference, however, is strong that not very much was really known
about this mountain region south of the Balkh plain. To the pilgrim it
offered no terrors; but to the merchant, with his heavily laden
caravan, it is difficult to conceive that 800 or 900 years ago it
could have been much easier to negotiate than it is to the Bokhara
merchants of to-day, who take a much longer route between the Oxus and
Kabul than that which carries them past Bamian.

The province of Badakshan to the east (the ancient Baktria) is still
but indifferently explored. It is true that certain native explorers
of the Indian Survey have made tracks through the country, passing
from the Pamir region to the Oxus plains; but no English traveller has
recently done more than touch the fringe of that section of the Hindu
Kush system which includes Kafiristan and its extension northwards,
encircled by the great bend of the Oxus River. Kafiristan has ever
been an unexplored region--a mountain wilderness into which no call of
Buddhism ever lured the pilgrim, no Moslem conqueror (excepting
perhaps Timur) ever set his foot, until the late Amir Abdurrahmon
essayed to reduce that region and make it part of civilized
Afghanistan. Even he was content to leave it alone after a year or two
of vain hammering at its southern gates. Kafiristan formed part of the
mediaeval province, or kingdom, of Bolor; but it is always written of
as the home of an uncouth and savage race of people, with whom it was
difficult to establish intercourse. Kafiristan is, however, in these
modern days very much curtailed as the home of the Kafir. Undoubtedly
many of the border tribes fringing the country (Dehgans, Nimchas,
etc.), who are now to be numbered amongst the most fanatical of Moslem
clans, are comparatively new recruits to the faith, and therefore
handle the new broom with traditional ardour; but they were not so
long ago members of the great mixed community of Kafirs who, driven
from many directions into the most inaccessible fastnesses of the
hills by the advance of stronger races north and south, have occupied
remote valleys, preserving their own dialects, mixing up in strange
confusion Brahman, Zoroastian, and Buddhist tenets with classical
mythology, each valley with apparently a law and a language of its
own, until it is impossible to unravel the threads of their
complicated relationship. Here we should expect to find (and we do
find) the last relics of the Greek occupation of Baktria, and here are
certainly remnants of a yet more ancient Persian stock, with all the
flotsam and jetsam of High Asia intermingled. They are, from the point
of view of the Kabul Court, all lumped together as Kafirs under two
denominations, Siahposh and Lalposh; and not till scientific
investigation, such as has not yet reached Afghanistan, can touch them
shall we know more than we do now. No commercial road ever ran through
the heart of Kafiristan, but there were two routes touching its
eastern and western limits, viz. that on the east passing by Jirm, and
that on the west by Anjuman, both joining the Kokcha River, which are
vaguely referred to by our Arab authorities. That by Jirm is certainly
impracticable for any but travellers on foot.

Badakshan (_i.e._ the province) was apparently full of well-populated
and flourishing towns 1000 years ago. The names of many of them are
given by Idrisi, but it is not possible to identify more than a few.
The ancient Khulm (50 miles east of Balkh) was included in Badakshan.
In Idrisi's day it was a place "of which the productions and
resources were very abundant: there is running water, cultivated
fields, and all sorts of vegetable productions." From thence to
Semenjan "a pretty town, in every way comparable to Khulm, commercial,
populated, and encircled with mud walls," two days' journey. Then we
have "from Balkh to Warwalin" (a town agreeable and commercial with
others dependent on it), two days. From Warwalin to Talekan, two days.
Talekan is described as only one-fourth the size of Balkh, on the
banks of a big river in a plain where there are vineyards. And then,
strangely enough, we find "from Balkh to Khulm west of Warwalin is a
two-days' journey. From Semenjan to Talekan, two days."

This is a puzzle which requires some adjustment. From Balkh to Khulm
is about 50 miles and may well pass as two days' journey. But from
Balkh to Warwalin is also said to be a two-days' journey, and from
Warwalin to Talekan two days, whilst Khulm is two days _west_ of
Warwalin. The difficulty lies in the fact that all these places must
be on a line running almost due _east_ from Balkh. It was and is the
great high-road of Badakshan in the Oxus plains. Moreover, Talekan has
been fixed by native surveyors at a point about 150 miles east of
Balkh which fully corresponds in its physical features to the
description given of that place above. If, however, we assume 150
miles to represent six days' journey instead of four, the difficulty
vanishes. We then have Balkh to Khulm, two days; Khulm to Warwalin,
two days; and Warwalin to Talekan, two days. This would place Warwalin
somewhere about Kunduz, which is, indeed, a very probable position for
it.

Semenjan is important. Two days from Talekan; two days from Khulm;
five days from Andarab.

Andarab is fortunately a fixed position. The description given of it
by Idrisi places it at the junction of the Kaisan (or Kasan) stream
with the Andarab, both of which retain their ancient names. Andarab is
a very old and a very important position in all itineraries, from
Greek times till now, and it may be important again. But seeing that
Khulm is separated from Talekan by four days, it is difficult to
distinguish between Semenjan and Warwalin which is also two days from
each of those places. This illustrates the problems which beset the
unravelling of Arab itineraries. Seeing, however, that Talekan and
Warwalin have already been confused once, it is, I think, justifiable
to assume that the same mistake has occurred again. Such an assumption
would place Semenjan about where Haibak is, and where some central
town of importance must have always been, judging from its important
geographical position. Haibak is rather more than a hundred miles from
Andarab by the only practicable khafila route, which is a very fair
five-days' journey. This would indicate that the route followed by the
English Commission for the settlement of the Russo-Afghan frontier
from Balkh to Kabul was one of those recognized as trade routes in
the tenth and eleventh centuries. The location of one other town in
Badakshan is of interest, and that is a town called by Idrisi
"Badakshan," which gave its name to the province. The first assumption
to make is that the modern capital Faizabad is on or near the site of
the ancient one. Let us see how it fits Idrisi's itinerary. The
information is most meagre. From Talekan to Badakshan, seven days.
From Andarab to the same town (going east), four days. Badakshan is
described as a town "not very large but possessing many dependencies
and a most fertile soil. The vine and other trees grow freely, and the
country is watered by running streams. The town is defended by strong
walls, and it possesses markets, caravanserais, and baths. It is a
commercial centre. It is built on the west bank of the Khariab, the
largest river of those which flow to the Oxus." It is elsewhere stated
that the Khariab is another name for the Oxus or Jihun. It is added
that horses are bred there and mules; and rubies and lapis lazuli
found in the neighbourhood and distributed through the world. Musk
from Wakhan is brought to Badakshan. Also Badakshan adjoins Canouj, a
dependency of India. The two provinces which are found immediately
beyond the Oxus (under one government) are Djil and Waksh, which lie
between the Khariab (? Oxus) and Wakshab rivers, of which the first
bathes the eastern part of Djil and the other the country of Waksh.
The Waksh joins the Oxus from the north near the junction of the
latter with the Kunduz. Then follow the names of places dependent on
Waksh, of which Helawerd and Menk seem to be the chief.

Now Faizabad is about 70 miles from Talekan, and about 160 at least
from Andarab. From Andarab the route strikes east at first, but after
crossing the Nawak Pass, over a spur of the Hindu Kush (which is
itself crossed near this point by the Khawak), it turns and passes
down the valley of Anjuman to Jirm and Faizabad. Jirm is on the left
bank of the Kokcha or Khariab--Faizabad being on the right,--and its
altitude (4800 feet) would certainly admit of vine-growing and may be
suitable for horse-breeding; but it must be admitted that in both
these particulars Faizabad has the advantage, although Jirm is the
centre of the mining industry in lapis lazuli, if not in rubies. Jirm
is about 130 miles from Andarab, and 80 (with a well-marked road
between) to Talekan. To fit Idrisi's itinerary we should have to
select a spot in the Anjuman valley some sixty miles south of Jirm.
This would involve an impossible altitude for either wine or horses
(in that latitude), so we are forced to conclude that the itinerary is
wrong. If it were exactly reversed and made seven days from Andarab
and four from Talekan, Jirm would represent the site of the ancient
capital exactly. Some such adjustment as this is necessary in order to
meet the requirements, and Idrisi's indications of the climate. On
the whole, I am inclined to believe that Jirm represents the ancient
capital. However that may be, it is important to note that the Anjuman
route from the pass at the head of the Panjshir valley was a
recognized route in the Middle Ages, and emphasizes the importance of
the Andarab position in Afghanistan. We have seen that from the very
earliest times, prior to the Greek invasion of India, this was
probably the region of western settlements in Baktria. It is about
here that we find the greatest number of indications (if place-names
are to be trusted) of Greek colonization. It is one of the districts
which are to be recognized as distinctly the theatres of Alexander's
military movements during his famous expedition. It commands four, if
not five, of the most important passes across the Hindu Kush. The
surveyor who carried his traverse up to the head of the Andarab and
over the Khawak Pass into the Panjshir found a depression in the Hindu
Kush range which admitted of two crossings (the Til and Khawak) at an
elevation of about 11,650 feet, neither of which presented any great
physical difficulty apart from that of altitude, both leading by
comparatively easy grades into the upper Panjshir valley.

It is reported that since the Russo-Afghan Commission surveyors passed
that way, the late Amir has constructed a passable road for commercial
purposes, which can be kept open by the employment of coolie labour in
removing the snow, and that khafilas pass freely between Kabul and
Badakshan all the year round. In the tenth century there is ample
evidence that it was a well-trodden route, for we find it stated that
from Andarab to Hariana (travelling southward) is three days' journey.
"Hariana is a small town built at the foot of a mountain and on the
banks of a river, which, taking its source near Panjshir (Banjohir)
traverses that town without being utilized for irrigation until,
reaching Karwan, it enters into the territory of India and joins its
waters to the Nahrwara (Kabul) River. The inhabitants of Hariana
possess neither trees nor orchards. They only cultivate vegetables,
but they live by mining. It is impossible to see anything more perfect
than the metal which is extracted from the mines of Panjshir, a small
town built on a hill at one day's distance from Hariana and of which
the inhabitants are remarkable for violence and wickedness
(mechancete) of their character. The river, which issues from
Panjshir, runs to Hariana as we have said." ... "From there (?
Hariana) to Karwan, southward, two days' journey." "The town of Karwan
is small but pretty, its environs are agreeable, bazaars frequent,
inhabitants well-off. The houses are built of mud and bricks. Situated
on the banks of a river which comes from Panjshir, this town is one of
the principal markets of India."

From this account it is clear that the village of Panjshir must have
been somewhere near the modern Khawak, and Hariana about 20 miles
lower down the stream. But the site is not identified. Karwan was
obviously near the site of the modern Charikar, and might possibly be
Parwan, a very ancient site. It is worthy of note that in the tenth
century all the Kabul province was "India." Of all the passes
traversing the Hindu Kush we have mention only of this, the Khawak,
and (indirectly) of the group which connect Kabul with Bamian; and it
may be doubted whether in the Middle Ages any use was made of the
Shibar, Chapdara, or others that lie between the Kaoshan and Irak for
commercial purposes.

There is, however, strong inference that the Greeks made use of the
Kaoshan, or Parwan, which is also commanded from Andarab. The
excellent military road constructed by the late Amir from Charikar, up
the Ghorband valley and over the Chapdara Pass, is a modern
development.

Here, however, we must take leave of the routes to India, which are
sufficiently dealt with elsewhere, and returning to Badakshan see if
we can unravel some of the mediaeval geography of the region which
stretches eastward to the Oxus affluents and the Pamirs. We know that
between Khotan and Balkh there was a very well-trodden pilgrim route
in the earlier days of our era (from the first century to the tenth),
when both these places were full of the high-priests of Buddhism. Was
it also a commercial route? The shortest way to determine its
position is to examine the map and see which way it must have run at a
time when (if we are to believe Mr. Ellsworthy Huntington's theories
of periodic fluctuations of climate in High Asia) all that vastly
elevated region was colder, less desiccated, and possibly more fertile
than now, whilst its glaciers and lakes were larger and more
extensive.

Before turning eastward into the highlands and plateau of Asia it is
interesting to note that north of the Oxus the districts of Jil (which
was the region of mountains) and Waksh were both well known, and
boasted many important commercial centres. The two districts (under
one government) lay between the Wakshab which joins the Oxus from the
north to the north-east of Khulm, and the Khariab, which is clearly
another river than the Khariab (now the Kokcha) of Badakshan, and
which is probably the Oxus itself (see preceding note). These
trans-Oxus regions take us afield into the Khanates of Central Asia
beyond Afghanistan, and we can only note in passing that 1000 years
ago Termez was the most important town on the Oxus, commanding as it
did the main river crossing from Bokhara to Khulm and Balkh; Kabadian
also being very ancient. Termez may yet again become significant in
history.

References to the Pamir region are very scanty, and indicate that not
much was known about them. The most direct road from Khotan in Chinese
Turkistan to Balkh, a well-worn pilgrim route of the early centuries
of our era, is that which first strikes north-west to Yarkand, and
then passing by the stone fort of Tashkurghan (one of the ancient
landmarks of Central Asian travel) follows the Tashkurghan River to
its head, passes over the Wakhjir Pass from the Tagdumbash Pamir into
the valley of the Wakhab (or Panja) River and follows that river to
Zebak in Badakshan. So far it is a long, difficult, and toilsome route
rising to an altitude of 15,000 to 16,000 feet, but after passing
Zebak to Faizabad and so on through Badakshan to Balkh, it is a
delightful road, full of picturesque beauty and incident. At certain
seasons of the year no part of it would appear formidable to such
earnest and determined devotees as the Chinese Buddhist pilgrims. From
Huen Tsang's account, however, it would seem that a still more
northerly route was usually preferred, one which involved crossing the
Oxus at Termez or Kilif. It is a curious feature in connection with
Buddhist records of travel (even the Arab records) that no account
whatever seems to be taken of abstract altitude, _i.e._ the altitude
of the plains. So long as the mountains towered above the pilgrims'
heads they were content to assume that they were traversing lowlands.
Never does it seem to have occurred to them that on the flat plains
they might be at a higher elevation than on the summits of the Chinese
or Arabian hills. The explanation undoubtedly lies in the fact that
they had no means of determining elevation. Hypsometers and aneroids
were not for them. The gradual ascents leading to the Pamir valleys
did not impress them, and so long as they ascended one side of a range
to descend on the other, the fact that the descent did not balance the
ascent was more or less unobserved. Wandering over the varied face of
the earth they were content to accept it as God made it, and ask no
questions. Recent investigations would lead us to suppose that in the
palmy days of Buddhist occupation of Chinese Turkistan, when Lop Nor
spread out its wide lake expanse to reflect a vista of towns and
villages on its banks, refreshing the earth by a thousand rivulets not
then impregnated with noxious salts; when high-roads traversed that
which is now but a moving procession of sand-waves following each
other in silent order at the bidding of the eternal wind; when men
made their arrangements for posting from point to point, and forgot to
pay their bills made out in the Karosthi language, the climate was
very different from what it is now.

It was colder, moister, and the zones of cultivation far more
extensive, but it may also be that these regions were not so highly
elevated; indeed, there is good reason for believing that the eternal
processes of expansion and contraction of the earth's crust, never
altogether quiescent, is more marked in Central Asia than elsewhere,
and that the gradual elevation, which is undoubtedly in operation now,
may have also affected the levels of river-beds and intervening
divides, and thrown out of gear much of the original natural
possibilities for irrigation. However that may be, it is fairly
certain that no great amount of trade ever crossed the Pamirs. Marco
Polo crossed them, passing by Tashkurghan and making his way eastwards
to Cathay, and has very little to say about them except in admiration
of the magnificent pasturage which is just as abundant and as
nutritious now as it was in his time. Idrisi's information beyond the
regions of the Central Asian Khanates and the Oxus was very vague. He
says that on the borders of Waksh and of Jil are Wakhan and Sacnia,
dependencies of the country of the Turks. From Wakhan to Tibet is
eighteen journeys. "Wakhan possesses silver mines, and gold is taken
from the rivers. Musk and slaves are also taken from this country.
Sacnia town, which belongs to the Khizilji Turks, is five days from
Wakhan, and its territory adjoins China." Wakhan probably included the
province of the same name that now forms the extreme north-eastern
extension of Afghanistan, but the Tibet, which was eighteen days'
journey distant, in nowise corresponds with the modern Tibet. Assuming
that it was "Little Tibet" (or Ladakh), which might perhaps correspond
in the matter of distance, we should still have some difficulty in
reconciling Idrisi's description of the "Ville de Tibet" with any
place in Ladakh. He says "the town of Tibet is large, and the country
of which it is the capital carries the name." This country belongs to
the "Turks Tibetians." Its inhabitants entertain relations with
Ferghana, Botm,[9] and with the subjects of the Wakhan; they travel
over most of these countries, and they take from them their iron,
silver, precious stones, leopard skins, and Tibetan musk. This town is
built on a hill, at the foot of which runs a river which discharges
into the lake Berwan, situated towards the east. It is surrounded with
walls, and serves as the residence of a prince, who has many troops
and much cavalry, who wear coats of mail and are armed _de pied en
cap_. They make many things there, and export robes and stuff of which
the tissue is thick, rough, and durable. These robes cost much, and
one gets slaves and musk destined for Ferghana and India. There does
not exist in the world creatures endowed with more beautiful
complexions, with more charming figures, more perfect features, and
more agreeable shape than these Turk slaves. They are disrobed and
sold to merchants, and it is this class of girl who fetches 300
dinars. The country of Bagnarghar lies between Tibet and China,
bounded on the north by the country of the Kirkhirs (Kiziljis in
another MS.), possibly Kirghiz.

The course of the river on which the town is built, no less than the
name of the lake into which that river falls and the description of
the Turk slave girls (as of the cavalry), is quite inapplicable to
anything to be found in modern Tibet. I have little doubt that the
Tibet of Idrisi was a town on the high-road to China, which followed
the Tarim River eastward to its bourne in Lake Burhan. Lake Burhan is
now a swamp distinct from Lob, but 1000 years ago it may have been a
part of the Lob system, and Bagnarghar a part of Mongolia. The
description of the slave girls would apply equally well to the Turkman
women or to the Kirghiz, but certainly not to the flat-featured,
squat-shaped Tibetan, although there are not wanting good looks
amongst them. Then follows, in Idrisi's account, a list of the
dependencies of Tibet and some travellers' tales about the musk-deer.
It is impossible to place the ancient town of Tibet accurately. There
are ruined sites in numbers on the Tarim banks, and amongst them a
place called Tippak, but it would be dangerous to assume a connection
between Tibet and Tippak. This is interesting (and the interest must
be the excuse for the digression from Afghanistan), because it
indicates that modern Chinese Turkistan was included in Tibet a
thousand years ago, and it further throws a certain amount of light on
the origin of the remarkable concentration of Buddhist centres in the
Takla Makan.

FOOTNOTES:

[5] Joubert's translation.

[6] Adraskand is mentioned as "a little place with cultivation,
gardens, and plenty of sweet water," and as one of the four towns
under the domination of Asfaran. This corresponds fairly well with the
modern town of Kila Adraskand of the same name. On the same southern
route from Herat, undoubtedly, was "Malin Herat, at one day's journey,
a town surrounded by gardens." The picturesque ruins of the bridge
called the Pul-i-Malun, across the Hari Rud, on the Kandahar road, is
evidence of the former existence of a town of Malun, of which no trace
remains to-day, but which must have corresponded very closely with
Rozabagh.

[7] Talikhan in modern maps.

[8] Now Colonel the Hon. M. G. Talbot, R.E.

[9] The name or term Bot is locally applied now to certain Himalayan
districts as well as to Tibet.




CHAPTER VIII

ARAB EXPLORATION--MAKRAN


Between Arabia and India is the strange land of Makran, in the
southern defiles and deserts of which country Alexander lost his way.
Had he by chance separated himself from the coast and abandoned
connection with his fleet he might have passed through Makran by more
northerly routes to Persia, and have made one of those open ways which
Arab occupation opened up to traffic 1000 years later. Makran is not
an attractive country for the modern explorer. It is not yet a popular
field for enterprise in research (though it well may become so), and a
few words of further description are necessary to explain how it was
that the death-trap of Alexander proved to be the road to wealth and
power of the subsequent Arab.

  [Illustration: SKETCH MAP OF ANCIENT & MEDIAEVAL MAKRAN
    TO ILLUSTRATE PAPER BY COL. T. H. HOLDICH.]

From the sun-swept Arabian Sea a long line of white shore, with a
ceaseless surf breaking on it, appears to edge it on the north. This
is backed by other long lines of level-topped hills, seldom rising to
conspicuous peaks or altitudes, but just stretched out in long
grey and purple lines with a prominent feature here and there to serve
as a useful landmark to mariners. Now and then when the shoreline is
indented, the hills actually face the sea and there are clean-cut
scarped cliffs presenting a square face to the waves. At such points
the deep rifted mountains of the interior either extend an arm to the
ocean, as at Malan, or it may be that a narrow band of ancient ridge
leaves jagged sections of its length above sea-level, parallel to the
coast-line, and that between it and the hills of the interior is a
sandy isthmus with sea indentation forming harbours on either side.
This country, for a width of about 100 miles, is called Makran. It is
the southernmost region of Southern Baluchistan, a country
geologically of recent formation, with a coastal uplift from the
sea-bottom of soft white sand strata capped here and there by
laterite. Such a formation lends itself to quaint curiosities in hill
structure. A protecting cap may preserve a pinnacle of soft rock,
whilst all around it the persistence of weather action has cut away
the soil. Gigantic cap-crowned pillars and pedestals are balanced in
fantastic array about the mountain slopes; deep cuttings and gorges
are formed by denudation, and from the gullies so fashioned amongst
these hills there may tower up a scarped cliff edge for thousands of
feet, with successive strata so well defined that it possesses all the
appearance of massive masonry construction.

The sea which beats with unceasing surf on the shores of Makran is
full of the wonders of the deep. From the dead silent flat surface,
such as comes with an autumn calm, monstrous fish suddenly shoot out
for 15 or 20 feet into the air and fall with a resounding slap almost
amounting to a detonation. Whales still disport themselves close
inshore, and frighten no one. It is easy, however, to understand the
terror with which they inspired the Greek sailors of Nearkhos in their
open Indian-built boats as they wormed their way along the coast.
Occasionally a whale becomes involved with the cable of the
Indo-Persian telegraph line and loops himself into it, with fatal
results. There are islands off the shore, cut out from the mainland.
Some of them are in process of disappearance, when they will add their
quota to the bar which makes approach to the Makran shores so
generally difficult; others, more remote, bid fair to last as the
final remnants of a long-ago submerged ridge through ages yet to come;
and one regrets that the day of their enchantment has passed. Of such
is that island of Haftala, Hashtala, Nuhsala (it is difficult to
account for the variety of Persian numerals which are associated with
its name), which is called Nosala by Nearkhos and said by him to be
sacred to the sun. In the days of the Greeks it was enveloped in a
haze of mystery and tradition. The Karaks who made of this island a
base for their depredations, finally drew down upon themselves the
wrath of the Arabs, and this led incidentally to one of the most
successful invasions of India that have ever been conducted by sea and
land.

But it is not only the historical and legendary interest of this
remarkable coast which renders it a fascinating subject for
exploration and romance. The physical conditions of it, the bubbling
mud volcanoes which occasionally fill the sea with yellow silt from
below, and always remain in a perpetual simmer of boiling activity;
the weird and fantastic forms assumed by the mud strata of recent
sea-making, which are the basis of the whole structure of ridge and
furrow which constitute Makran conformation, no less than the
extraordinary prevalence of electric phenomena,--all these offered the
Arabian Sea as a promising gift to the inventive faculty of such Arab
genius as revelled in stories of miraculous enterprise. On a still,
warm night when the stars are all ablaze overhead the sea will, of a
sudden, spread around in a sheet of milky white, and the sky become
black by contrast with the blackness of ink. Then again will there be
a transformation to a bright scintillating floor, with each little
wavelet dropping sparks of light upon it; and from the wake of the
vessel will stretch out to the horizon a shining way, like a silver
path into the great unknown. Meanwhile, the ship herself will be lit
up by the electric genii. Each iron rod or stanchion will gleam with a
weird white light; each spar will carry a little bunch of blue flame
at its point; the mast-head will be aflame, and softly through the
wonders of this strange Eastern sea the ship will stalk on in solemn
silence and most "excellent loneliness." Small wonder that Arab
mariners were stirring storytellers, living as they did amidst the
uncounted wonders of the Persian Gulf and the Arabian Sea.

Hardly less strange is the land formation of this southern edge of
Baluchistan. It is an old, old country, replete with the evidences of
unwritten history, the ultimate bourne of much of the flotsam and
jetsam of Asiatic humanity; a cul-de-sac where northern intruders meet
and get no farther. Yet geologically it is very new--so new that one
might think that the piles of sea-born shells which are to be found
here and there drifted into heaps on the soft mud flats amongst the
bristling ridges, were things of yesterday; so new, in fact, that it
has not yet done changing its outline. There is little difficulty in
marking the changes in the coast-line which must have occurred since
the third century B.C. One may even count up the island formations and
disappearances which have occurred within a generation; so incomplete
that the changing conditions of its water-supply have left their marks
everywhere over it. Desiccated forests are to be found with the trees
still standing, as they will continue to stand in this dry climate for
centuries. Huge masonry constructions, built as dams for the retention
of water in the inland hills, testify to the existence of an abundant
water-supply within historic periods; as also do the terraced slopes
which reach down in orderly steps to the foot of the ridges, each step
representing a formerly irrigated field. The water has failed;
whether, as is most probable, from the same desiccating processes
which are drying up lakes and dwindling glaciers in both northern and
southern hemispheres, or whether there has been special interference
with the routine of Nature and man has contributed to his own undoing,
it is impossible at present to say, but the result is that Makran is
now, and has been for centuries, a forgotten and almost a forsaken
country. In order to understand the remarkable peculiarity of its
geographical formation one requires a good map. Ridges, rather than
ranges, are the predominant feature of its orography. Ridges of all
degrees of altitude, extension, and rockiness, running in long lines
of parallel flexure on a system of curves which sweeps them round
gradually from the run of Indus frontier hills to an east and west
strike through Makran, and a final trend to the north-west, where they
guard the Persian coasts of the Gulf. As a rule they throw off no
spurs, standing stiff, jagged, naked, and uncompromising, like the
parallel walls of some gigantic system of defences, and varying in
height above the plain from 5000 feet to 50. The higher ranges have
been scored by weather and wet, with deep gorges and drainage lines,
and their scarred sides present various degrees of angle and
declivity, according to the dip of the strata that forms them. Some of
the smaller ridges have their rocky backbone set up straight, forming
a knife-like edge along which nothing but a squirrel could run. Across
them, breaking through the axis almost at right angles run some of the
main arteries of the general drainage system; but the most important
features of the country are the long lateral valleys between the
ridges, the streams of which feed the main rivers. These are often 8
or 10 miles in width, with a flat alluvial bottom, and one may ride
for mile after mile along the open plain with clay or sand spread out
on either hand, and nothing but the distant wall of the hills flanking
the long and endless route. Some of these valleys are filled with a
luxuriance of palm growth (the dates of Panjgur, for instance, being
famous), and it is this remarkable feature of long, lateral valleys
which, through all the ages, has made of Makran an avenue of approach
to India from the west. The more important ranges lie to the north,
facing the deserts of Central Baluchistan. It is in the solid phalanx
of the coastal band of hills that the most marked adherence to the
gridiron, or ridge and furrow formation, is to be found.

Exceptionally, out of this banded system arises some great mountain
block forming a separate feature, such as is the massive crag-crowned
cliff-lined block of Malan, west of one of the most important rivers
of Makran (the Hingol), to which reference has already been made. From
it an arm stretches southwards to the sea, and forms a square-headed
obstruction to traffic along the coast, which almost defeated the
efforts of the Indo-Persian telegraph constructors when they essayed
to carry a line across it, and did entirely defeat the intentions of
Alexander the Great to conduct his army within sight of his
Indus-built fleet. It is within the folds of this mountain group that
lies hidden that most ancient shrine of Indo-Persian worship, to which
we have already referred in the story of Alexander's retreat.

It is the possibilities of Makran as an intervening link in the route
from Europe to India which renders that country interesting at the
present time, and it is therefore with a practical as well as
historical interest that we take up the story of frontier exploration
from the time when we first recognize the great commercial movements
of the Arab races, centuries after the disappearance of the last
remnants of ancient explorations by Assyrians, Persians, and Greeks.
It is extraordinary how deep a veil of forgetfulness was drawn over
Southern Baluchistan during this unrecorded interval. For a thousand
years, from the withdrawal of Alexander's attenuated force to the rise
and spread of Islam, we hear nothing of Makran, and we are left to the
traditions of the Baluch tribes to fill up the gap in history. What
the Arabs made of mediaeval Makran as a gate of India may be briefly
told. Recent surveys have revealed their tracks, although we have no
clear record of their earliest movements. We know, however, that there
was an Arab governor of Makran long previous to the historical
invasion of India in A.D. 712, and that there must have been strong
commercial interest and considerable traffic before his time. Arabia,
indeed, had always been interested in Makran, and amongst other relics
of a long dead past are those huge stone constructions for
water-storage purposes to which we have referred, and which must have
been of very early Arab (possibly Himyaritic) building, as well as a
host of legends and traditions, all pointing to successive waves of
early tribal emigration, extending from the Persian frontier to the
lower Arabius--the Purali of our time.

Hajjaj, the governor of Irak, under the Kalif Walid I., projected
three simultaneous expeditions into Asia for the advancement of the
true faith. One was directed towards Samarkand, one against the King
of Kabul, and the third was to operate directly on India through the
heart of Makran. The Makran field force was organised in the first
instance for the purpose of punishing certain Karak and Med pirates,
who had plundered a valuable convoy sent by the ruler of Ceylon to
Hajjaj and to the Kalif. These Karaks probably gave their names to the
Krokala of Nearkhos, and the Karachi of to-day, and have disappeared.
The Meds still exist. The expedition, which was placed under the
command of an enterprising young general aged seventeen, named Mahomed
Kasim, not only swept through Makran easily and successfully, but
ended by establishing Mahomedan supremacy in the Indus valley, and
originated a form of government which, under various phases, lasted
till Mahmud of Ghazni put an end to a degenerated form of it by
ousting the Karmatian rulers of Multan in A.D. 1005. The original
force which invaded Sind under Mahomed Kasim, and which was drawn
chiefly from Syria and Irak, consisted of 6000 camel-riders and 3000
infantry. In Makran the Arab governor (it is important to note that
there was an Arab governor of Makran before that country became the
high-road to India) added further reinforcements, and there was also a
naval squadron, which conveyed catapults and ammunition by sea to the
Indus valley port of Debal. It was with this small force that one of
the most surprising invasions of India ever attempted was successfully
carried through Makran--a country hitherto deemed impracticable, and
associated in previous history with nothing but tales of disaster. For
long, however, we find that Mahomed Kasim had both the piratical Meds,
and the hardly less tractable Jats (a Skythic people still existing in
the Indus valley) in his train, and the news of his successes carried
to Damascus brought crowds of Arab adventurers to follow his fortunes.
When he left Multan for the north, he is said to have had 50,000 men
under his command. His subsequent career and tragic end are all
matters of history.

The points chiefly to note in this remarkable invasion are that the
Arab soldiers first engaged were chiefly recruited from Syria; that,
contrary to their usual custom, they brought none of their women with
them; and that none of them probably ever returned to their country
again. Elliott tells us of the message sent them by the savage Kalif
Suliman: "Sow and sweat, for none of you will ever see Syria again."
What, then, became of all these first Arab conquerors of Western
India? They must have taken Persian-speaking wives of the stock of
Makran and Baluchistan, and their children, speaking their
mother-tongue, lost all knowledge of their fathers' language in the
course of a few generations. There are many such instances of the
rapid disappearance of a language in the East. For three centuries,
then, whilst a people of Arab descent ruled in Sind, there existed
through Makran one of the great highways of the world, a link between
West and East such as has never existed elsewhere on the Indian
border, save, perhaps, through the valley of the Kabul River and its
affluents. Along this highway flowed the greater part of the mighty
trade of India, a trade which has never failed to give commercial
predominance to that country which held the golden key to it, whether
that key has been in the hands of Arab, Turk, Venetian, Portuguese,
or Englishman. And though there are traces of a rapid decline in the
mediaeval prosperity of Makran after the commencement of the eleventh
century, yet its comparative remoteness in geographical position saved
it subsequently from the ruthless destruction inflicted by Turk and
Tartar in more accessible regions, and left to it cities worth
despoiling even in the days of Portuguese supremacy.

It is only lately that Makran has lapsed again into a mere
geographical expression. Twenty years ago our maps told us nothing
about it. It might have been, and was, for all practical purposes, as
unexplored and unknown as the forests of Africa. Now, however, we have
found that Makran is a country of great topographical interest as well
as of stirring history. And when we come to the days of Arab
ascendency, when Arab merchants settled in the country; when good
roads with well-marked stages were established; when, fortunately for
geography, certain Western commercial travellers, following, _longo
intervallo_, the example of the Chinese pilgrims--men such as Ibn
Haukal of Baghdad, or Istakhri of Persepolis--first set to work to
reduce geographical discovery to systematic compilation, we can take
their books and maps in our hands, and verify their statements as we
read. It is true that they copied a good deal from each other, and
that their manner of writing geographical names was obscure, and
leaves a good deal to be desired--a fault, by the way, from which the
maps of to-day are not entirely free--yet they are on the whole as
much more accurate than the early Greek geographers as the area of
their observations is more restricted. We may say that Makran and Sind
are perhaps more fully treated of by Arab geographers than any other
portion of the globe by the geographers who preceded them; and as
their details are more perfect, so, for the most part, is the
identification of those details rendered comparatively easy by the
nature of the country and its physical characteristics. With the
exception of the coast-line the topography of Makran to-day is the
topography of Makran in Alexandrian days. This is very different
indeed from the uncertain character of the Indus valley mediaeval
geography. There the extraordinary hydrographical changes that have
taken place; the shifting of the great river itself from east to west,
dependent on certain recognized natural laws; the drying up and total
disappearance of ancient channels and river-beds; the formation of a
delta, and the ever-varying alterations in the coast-line (due greatly
to monsoon influences), leave large tracts almost unrecognizable as
described in mediaeval literature. Makran is, for the most part, a
country of hills. Its valleys are narrow and sharply defined; its
mountains only passable at certain well-known points, which must have
been as definite before the Christian era as they are to-day; and it
is consequently comparatively easy to follow up a clue to any main
route passing through that country.

Makran is, in short, a country full of long narrow valleys running
east and west, the longest and most important being the valley of Kej.
The main drainage of the country reaches the sea by a series of main
channels running south, which, inasmuch as they are driven almost at
right angles across the general run of the watersheds, necessarily
pass through a series of gorges of most magnificent proportions, which
are far more impressive as spectacles than they are convenient for
practical road-making. Thus Makran is very much easier to traverse
from east to west than it is from north to south.

I have, perhaps, said enough to indicate that the old highways through
Makran, however much they may have assisted trade and traffic between
East and West, could only have been confined to very narrow limits
indeed. It is, in fact, almost a one-road country. Given the key,
then, to open the gates of such channels of communication as exist,
there is no difficulty in following them up, and the identification of
successive stages becomes merely a matter of local search. We know
where the old Arab cities _must_ have been, and we have but to look
about to find their ruins. The best key, perhaps, to this mediaeval
system is to be found in a map given by the Baghdad traveller, Ibn
Haukal, who wrote his account of Makran early in the tenth century,
and though this map leaves much to be desired in clearness and
accuracy, it is quite sufficient to give us the clue we require at
first starting. In the written geographical accounts of the country,
we labour under the disadvantage of possessing no comparative standard
of distance. The Arab of mediaeval days described the distance to be
traversed between one point and another much as the Bedou describes it
now. It is so many days' journey. Occasionally, indeed, we find a
compiler of more than usual precision modifying his description of a
stage as a long day's journey, or a short one. But such instances are
rare, and a day's journey appears to be literally just so much as
could conveniently be included in a day's work, with due regard to the
character of the route traversed. Across an open desert a day's
journey may be as much as 80 miles. Between the cities of a
well-populated district it may be much less. Taking an average from
all known distances, it is between 40 and 50 miles. Nor is it always
explained whether the day's journey is by land or sea, the unit "a
day's journey" being the distance traversed independent of the means
of transit.

In Ibn Haukal's map, although we have very little indication of
comparative distance, we have a rough idea of bearings, and the
invaluable datum of a fixed starting-point that can be identified
beyond doubt. The great Arab port on the Makran coast, sometimes even
called the capital of Makran, was Tiz; and Tiz is a well-known coast
village to this day. About 100 miles west of the port of Gwadur there
is a convenient and sheltered harbour for coast shipping, and on the
shores of it there was a telegraph station of the Persian Gulf line
called Charbar. The telegraph station occupied the extremity of the
eastern horn of the bay, and was separated inland by some few miles of
sandy waste from a low band of coarse conglomerate hills, which
conceal amongst them a narrow valley, containing all that is left of
the ancient port of Tiz. If you take a boat from Charbar point, and,
coasting up the bay, land at the mouth of this valley, you will first
of all be confronted by a picturesque little Persian fort perched on
the rocks on either hand, and absolutely blocking the entrance to the
valley. This fort was built, or at least renewed, in the days of
General Sir F. Goldsmid's Seistan mission, to emphasize the fact that
the Persian Government claimed that valley for its own. About a mile
above the fort there exists a squalid little fishing village, the
inhabitants of which spend their spare moments (and they have many of
them) in making those palm mats which enter so largely into the house
architecture of the coast villages, as they sit beneath the shade of
one or two remarkably fine "banian" trees. The valley is narrow and
close, and the ruins of Tiz, extending on both sides the village, are
packed close together in enormous heaps of debris, so covered with
broken pottery as to suggest the idea that the inhabitants of old Tiz
must have once devoted themselves entirely to the production of
ceramic art ware. Every heavy shower of rain washes out fragments of
new curiosities in glass and china. Here may be found large quantities
of an antique form of glass, the secret of the manufacture of which
has (according to Venetian experts) long passed away, only to be
lately rediscovered. It takes the shape of bangles chiefly, and in
this form may be dug up in almost any of the recognized sites of
ancient coast towns along the Makran and Persian coasts. It is
apparently of Egyptian origin, and was brought to the coast in Arab
ships. Here also is to be found much of a special class of pottery, of
very fine texture, and usually finished with a light sage-green glaze,
which appears to me to be peculiarly Arabic, but of which I have yet
to learn the full history. It is well known in Afghanistan, where it
is said to possess the property of detecting poison by cracking under
it, but even there it is no modern importation. This is the celadon to
which reference has already been made. The rocky cliffs on either side
the valley are honey-combed with Mahomedan tombs, and the face of
every flat-spaced eminence is scarred with them. A hundred generations
of Moslems are buried there. The rocky declivities which hedge in this
remarkable site may give some clue to the yet more ancient name of
Talara which this place once bore. Talar in Baluchi bears the
signification of a rocky band of cliffs or hills.

The obvious reason why the port of Tiz was chosen for the point of
debarkation for India is that, in addition to the general convenience
of the harbour, the monsoon winds do not affect the coast so far west.
At seasons when the Indus delta and the port of Debal were rendered
unapproachable, Tiz was an easy port to gain. There must have been a
considerable local trade, too, between the coast and the highly
cultivated, if restricted, valleys of Northern Makran, and it is more
than probable that Tiz was the port for the commerce of Seistan in its
most palmy days.

From Tiz to Kiz (or Kej, which is reckoned as the first big city on
the road to India in mediaeval geography) was, according to Istakhri
and Idrisi, a five-days' journey. Kiz is doubtless synonymous with
Kej, but the long straight valley of that name which leads eastwards
towards India has no town now which exactly corresponds to the name of
the valley. The distance between Tiz and the Kej district is from 160
to 170 miles. No actual ruined site can be pointed out as yet marking
the position of Kiz, or (as Idrisi writes it) Kirusi, but it must have
been in the close neighbourhood of Kalatak, where, indeed, there is
ample room for further close investigation amongst surrounding ruins.
About the city, we may note from Idrisi that it was nearly as large as
Multan, and was the largest city in Makran. "Palm trees are
plentiful, and there is a large trade," says our author, who adds that
it is two long days' journey west of the city of Firabuz. From all the
varied forms which Arab geographical names can assume owing to
omission of diacritical marks in writing, this place, Firabuz, has
perhaps suffered most. The most correct reading of it would probably
be Kanazbun, and this is the form adopted by Elliott, who conjectures
that Kanazbun was situated near the modern Panjgur. From Kej to
Panjgur is not less than 110 miles, a very long two-days' journey. Yet
Istakhri supports Idrisi (if, indeed, he is not the original author of
the statement) that it is two days' journey from Kiz to Kanazbun. This
would lead one to place Kanazbun elsewhere than in the Panjgur
district, more especially as that district lies well to the north of
the direct road to India, were it not for local evidence that the
fertile and flourishing Panjgur valley must certainly be included
somehow in the mediaeval geographical system, and that the conditions
of khafila traffic in mediaeval times were such as to preclude the
possibility of the more direct route being utilized. To explain this
fully would demand a full explanation also of the physical geography
of Eastern Makran. I have no doubt whatever that Sir H. Elliott is
right in his conjecture, and that amongst the many relics of ancient
civilization which are to be found in Panjgur is the site of Kanazbun.
Kanazbun was in existence long before the Arab invasion of Sind. The
modern fort of Kudabandan probably represents the site of that more
ancient fort which was built by the usurper Chach of Sind, when he
marched through Makran to fix its further boundaries about the
beginning of the Mahomedan era. Kanazbun was a very large city indeed.
"It is a town," says Idrisi, "of which the inhabitants are rich. They
carry on a great trade. They are men of their word, enemies of fraud,
and they are generous and hospitable." Panjgur, I may add, is a
delightfully green spot amongst many other green spots in Makran. It
is not long ago that we had a small force cantoned there to preserve
law and order in that lawless land. There appeared to be but one
verdict on the part of the officers who lived there, and that verdict
was all in its favour. In this particular, Panjgur is probably unique
amongst frontier outposts.

The next important city on the road to Sind was Armail, Armabel, or
Karabel, now, without doubt, Las Bela. From Kudabandan to Las Bela is
from 170 to 180 miles, and there is considerable variety of opinion as
to the number of days that were to be occupied in traversing the
distance. Istakhri says that from Kiz to Armail is six days' journey.
Deduct the two from Kiz to Kanazbun, and the distance between Kanazbun
and Armail is four days. Ibn Haukal makes it fourteen marches from
Kanazbun to the port of Debal, and as he reckons Armail to be six
from Debal on the Kanazbun road, we get a second estimate of eight
days' journey. Idrisi says that from Manhabari to Firabuz is six
marches, and we know otherwise that from Manhabari to Armail was four,
so the third estimate gives us two days' journey. Istakhri's estimate
is more in accordance with the average that we find elsewhere, and he
is the probable author of the original statements. But doubtless the
number of days occupied varied with the season and the amount of
supplies procurable. There were villages _en route_, and many
halting-places. The _Ashkalu l' Bilad_ of Ibn Haukal says: "Villages
of Dahuk and Kalwan are contiguous, and are between Labi and Armail";
from which Elliott conjectures that Labi was synonymous with Kiz.
Idrisi states that "between Kiz and Armail two districts touch each
other, Rahun and Kalwan." I should be inclined to suggest that the
districts of Dashtak and Kolwah are those referred to. They are
contiguous, and they may be said to be between Kiz and Armail, though
it would be more exact to place them between Kanazbun and Armail.
Kolwah is a well-cultivated district lying to the south of the river,
which in its upper course is known as the Lob. I should conjecture
that this may be the Labi referred to by Ibn Haukal.

The city of Armail, Armabel (sometimes Karabel), or Las Bela, is of
great historic interest. From the very earliest days of historical
record Armail, by right of its position commanding the high-road to
India, must have been of great importance. Las Bela is but the modern
name derived from the influx of the Las or Lumri tribe of Rajputs. It
is at present but an insignificant little town, picturesquely perched
on the banks of the Purali River, but in its immediate neighbourhood
is a veritable _embarras de richesse_ in ancient sites. Eleven miles
north-west of Las Bela, at Gondakahar, are the ruins of a very ancient
city, which at first sight appear to carry us back to the
pre-Mahomedan era of Arab occupation, when the country was peopled by
Arabii, and the Arab flag was paramount on the high seas. Not far from
them are the caves of Gondrani, about which there is no room for
conjecture, for they are clearly Buddhist, as can be told from their
construction. We know from the Chachnama of Sind that in the middle of
the eighth century the province of Las Bela was part of a Buddhist
kingdom, which extended from Armabel to the modern province of Gandava
in Sind. The great trade mart for the Buddhists on the frontier was a
place called Kandabel, which Elliott identifies with Gandava, the
capital of the province of Kach Gandava. It is, however, associated in
the Chachnama with Kandahar, the expression "Kandabel, that is,
Kandahar" being used, an expression which Elliott condemns for its
inaccuracy, as he recognizes but the one Kandahar, which is in
Afghanistan. It happens that there is a Kandahar, or Gandahar, in
Kach Gandava, and there are ruins enough in the neighbourhood to
justify the suspicion that this was after all the original Kandabel
rather than the modern town of Gandava.

The capital of this ancient Buddha--or Buddhiya--kingdom I believe to
have been Armabel rather than Kandabel, it being at Armabel that Chach
found a Buddhist priest reigning in the year A.H. 2, when he passed
through. The curious association of names, and the undoubted Buddhist
character of the Gondrani caves, would lead one to assign a Buddhist
origin also to the neighbouring ruins of Gondakahar (or Gandakahar)
only that direct evidence from the ruins themselves is at present
wanting to confirm this conjecture. They require far closer
investigation than has been found possible in the course of ordinary
survey operations. The country lying between Las Bela and Kach Gandava
is occupied at present by a most troublesome section of the Dravidian
Brahuis, who call themselves Mingals, or Mongols, and who possibly may
be a Mongolian graft on the Dravidian stock. They may prove to be
modern representatives of the old Buddhist population of this land,
but their objection to political control has hitherto debarred us from
even exploring their country, although it is immediately on our own
borders. About 8 miles north of Las Bela are the ruins of a
comparatively recent Arab settlement, but they do not appear to be
important. It is probable that certain other ruins, about 11/2 miles
east of the town, called Karia Pir, represent the latest mediaeval
site, the site which was adopted after the destruction of the older
city by Mahomed Kasim on his way to invade Sind. Karia Pir is full of
Arabic coins and pottery. So many invasions of India have been planned
with varied success by the Kalifs of Baghdad since the first invasion
in the days of Omar I. in A.D. 644, till the time of the final
occupation of Sind in the time of the sixth Kalif Walid, about A.D.
712, that there is no difficulty in accounting for the varied sites
and fortunes of any city occupying so important a strategical position
as Bela.

From Armail we have a two-days' march assigned by Istakhri and Idrisi
as the distance to the town of Kambali, or Yusli, towards India. These
two places have, in consequence of their similarity in position,
become much confused, and it has been assumed by some scholars that
they are identical. But they are clearly separated in Ibn Haukal's
map, and it is, in fact, the question only of which of two routes
towards India is selected that will decide which of the two cities
will be found on the road. There is (and always must have been) a
choice of routes to the ancient port of Debal after passing the city
of Armail. That route which led through Yusli in all probability
passed by the modern site of Uthal. Close to this village the
unmistakable ruins of a considerable Arab town have been found, and I
have no hesitation in identifying them as those of Yusli. About
Kambali, too, there can be very little doubt. There are certain
well-known ruins called Khairokot not far to the west of the village
of Liari. We know from mediaeval description that Kambali was close to
the sea, and the sea shaped its coast-line in mediaeval days so as
nearly to touch the site called Khairokot. Even now, under certain
conditions of tide, it is possible to reach Liari in a coast
fishing-boat, although the process of land formation at the head of
the Sonmiani bay is proceeding so fast that, on the other hand, it is
occasionally impossible even to reach the fishing village of Sonmiani
itself. The ruins of Khairokot are so extensive, and yield such large
evidences of Arab occupation that a place must certainly be found for
them in the mediaeval system. Kambali appears to be the only possible
solution to the problem, although it was somewhat off the direct road
between Armail and Debal.

From either of these towns we have a six-days' journey to Debal,
passing two other cities _en route_, viz. Manabari and the "small but
populous town of Khur."

The Manhanari of Istakhri, Manbatara of Ibn Haukal, or Manabari of
Idrisi, again confronts us with the oft-repeated difficulty of two
places with similar names, there being no one individual site which
will answer all the descriptions given. General Haig has shown that
there was in all probability a Manjabari on the old channel of the
Indus, nearly opposite the famous city of Mansura, some 40 miles
north-east of the modern Hyderabad, which will answer certain points
of Arabic description; but he shows conclusively that this could not
be the Manhabari of Ibn Haukal and Idrisi, which was two days' journey
from Debal on the road to Armail. As we have now decided what
direction that road must have taken, after accepting General Haig's
position for Debal, and bearing in mind Idrisi's description of the
town as "built in a hollow," with fountains, springs, and gardens
around it, there seems to me but little doubt that the site of the
ancient Manhabari is to be found near that resort of all Karachi
holiday-makers called Mugger Pir. Here the sacred alligators are kept,
and hence the recognized name; but the real name of the place,
divested of its vulgar attributes, is Manga, or Manja Pir. The affix
Pir is common throughout the Bela district, and is a modern
introduction. The position of Mugger Pir, with its encircling walls of
hills, its adjacent hot springs and gardens (so rare as to be almost
unique in this part of the country), its convenient position with
respect to the coast, and, above all, its interesting architectural
remains, mark it unmistakably as that Manhabari of Idrisi which was
two days' march from Debal.

Whether Manhabari can be identified with that ancient capital of
Indo-Skythia spoken of by Ptolemy and the author of the _Periplus_ as
Minagar, or Binagar, may be open to question, though there are a good
many points about it which appear to meet the description given by
more ancient geographers. The question is too large to enter on now,
but there is certainly reason to think that such identification may be
found possible. The small but populous town of Khur has left some
apparent records of its existence near the Malir waterworks of
Karachi, where there is a very fine group of Arab tombs in a good
state of preservation. There is a village called Khair marked on the
map not far from this position, and the actual site of the old town
cannot be far from it, although I have not had the opportunity of
identifying it. It is directly on the road connecting Debal with
Manhabari. With Manhabari and Khur our tale of buried cities closes in
this direction. We have but to add that General Haig identifies Debal
with a ruin-covered site 20 miles south-west of Thatta, and about 45
miles east-south-east of Karachi.

All these ancient cities eastwards from Makran are associated with one
very interesting feature. Somewhat apart from the deserted and hardly
recognizable ruins of the cities are groups of remarkable tombs,
constructed of stone, and carved with a most minute beauty of design,
which is so well preserved as to appear almost fresh from the hands of
the sculptor. These tombs are locally known as "Khalmati."

Invariably placed on rising ground, with a fair command of the
surrounding landscape, they are the most conspicuous witnesses yet
remaining of the nature of the Saracenic style of decorative art which
must have beautified those early cities. The cities themselves have
long since passed away, but these stone records of dead citizens still
remain to illustrate, if but with a feeble light, one of the darkest
periods in the history of Indian architecture. These remains are most
likely Khalmati (_not_ Karmati) and belong to an Arab race who were
once strong in Sind and who came from the Makran coast at Khalmat. The
Karmatians were not builders.

We have so far only dealt with that route to India which combined a
coasting voyage in Arab ships with an overland journey which was
obviously performed on a camel, or the days' stages could never have
been accomplished. But the number of cities in Western Makran and
Kirman which still exist under their mediaeval names, and which are
thickly surrounded with evidences of their former wealth and
greatness, certifies to a former trade through Persia to India which
could have been nowise inferior to that from the shores of Arabia or
Egypt. Indeed, the overland route to India through Persia and Makran
was probably one of the best trodden trade routes that the world has
ever seen. It is almost unnecessary to enumerate such names as Darak,
Bih, Band, Kasrkand, Asfaka, and Fahalfahra (all of which are to be
found in Ibn Haukal's map), and to point out that they are represented
in modern geography by Dizak, Geh, Binth, Kasrkand, Asfaka, and Bahu
Kalat. Degenerated and narrowed as they now are, there are still
evidences written large enough in surrounding ruins to satisfy the
investigator of the reality and greatness of their past; whilst the
present nature of the routes which connect them by river and mountain
is enough to prove that they never could have been of small account in
the Arab geographical system. One city in this part of Makran is, I
confess, something of a riddle to me still. Rasak is ever spoken of by
Arab geographers as the city of "schismatics." There is, indeed, a
Rasak on the Sarbaz River road to Bampur, which might be strained to
fit the position assigned it in Arab geography; but it is now a small
and insignificant village, and apparently could never have been
otherwise. There is no room there for a city of such world-wide fame
as the ancient headquarters of heresy must have been--a city which
served usefully as a link between the heretics of Persia and those of
Sind.

Istakhri says that Rasak is two days' journey from Fahalfahra (which
there is good reason for believing to be Bahu Kalat), but Idrisi makes
it a three-days' journey from that place, and three days from Darak,
so that it should be about half-way between them. Now, Darak can
hardly be other than Dizak, which is described by the same authority
as three days' journey from Firabuz (_i.e._ Kanazbun). It is also said
to have been a populous town, and south-west of it was "a high
mountain called the Mountain of Salt." South-west of Dizak are the
highest mountains in Makran, called the Bampusht Koh, and there is
enough salt in the neighbourhood to justify the geographer's
description. It may also be said to be three days' journey from
Kanazbun. Somewhere about half-way between Dizak and Bahu Kalat is the
important town of Sarbaz, and from a description of contiguous ruins
which has been given by Mr. E. A. Wainwright, of the Survey Department
(to whom I am indebted for most of the Makran identifications), I am
inclined to place the ancient Rasak at Sarbaz rather than in the
position which the modern name would apply to it. It is rather
significant that Ibn Haukal omits Rasak altogether from his map. Its
importance may be estimated from Idrisi's description of it taken from
the translation given by Elliott in the first volume of his History of
India: "The inhabitants of Rasak are schismatics. Their territory is
divided into two districts, one called Al Kharij, and the other Kir"
(or Kiz) "Kaian. Sugar-cane is much cultivated, and a considerable
trade is carried on in a sweetmeat called 'faniz,' which is made
here.... The territory of Maskan joins that of Kirman." Maskan is
probably represented by Mashkel at the present day, Mashkel being the
best date-growing district in Southern Baluchistan. It adjoins Kirman,
and produces dates of such excellent quality that they compare
favourably with the best products of the Euphrates. Idrisi's
description of this part of Western Makran continues thus: "The
inhabitants have a great reputation for courage. They have date-trees,
camels, cereals, and the fruit of cold countries." He then gives a
table of distances, from which we can roughly estimate the meaning of
"a day's journey." After stating that Fahalfahra, Asfaka, Band, and
Kasrkand are dependencies of Makran which resemble each other in point
of size and extent of their trade, he goes on to say, "Fahalfahra to
Rasak two days." (Istakhri makes it three days, the distance from Bahu
Kalat to Sarbaz being about 80 miles.) "From Fahalfahra to Asfaka two
days." (This is almost impossible, the distance being about 160 miles,
and the route passing through several large towns.) "From Asfaka to
Band one day towards the west." (This is about 45 miles south-west
rather than west.) "From Asfaka to Darak three days." (150 to 160
miles according to the route taken.) "From Band to Kasrkand one day."
(About 70 miles, passing through Bih or Geh, which is not mentioned.)
"From Kasrkand to Kiz four days." This is not much over 150 miles, and
is the most probable estimate of them all. It is possible, of course,
that from 70 to 80 miles may have been covered on a good camel within
the limits of twenty-four hours. Such distances in Arabia are not
uncommon, but we are not here dealing with an absolutely desert
district, devoid of water. On the contrary, halting-places must have
always been frequent and convenient.

I cannot leave this corner of Makran without a short reference to what
lay beyond to the north-west, on the Kirman border, as it appears to
me that one or two geographical riddles of mediaeval days have recently
been cleared up by the results of our explorations. Idrisi says that
"Tubaran is near Fahraj, which belongs to Kirman. It is a
well-fortified town, and is situated on the banks of a river of the
same name, which are cultivated and fertile. From hence to Fardan, a
commercial town, the environs of which are well populated, four days.
Kir Kaian lies to the west of Fardan, on the road to Tubaran. The
country is well populated and very fertile. The vine grows here and
various sorts of fruit trees, but the palm is not to be found."
Elsewhere he states that "from Mansuria to Tubaran about fifteen
days"; and again, "from Tubaran to Multan, on the borders of Sind, ten
days." Here there is clearly the confusion which so constantly arises
from the repetition of place-names in different localities. Multan and
Mansuria are well-known or well-identified localities, and Turan was
an equally well-recognized district of Lower Sind, of which Khozdar
was the capital. Turan may well be reckoned as ten days from Multan,
or fifteen from Mansuria, but hardly the Tubaran, about which such a
detailed and precise description is given. There are two places called
indifferently Fahraj, Pahrag, Pahra, or Pahura, both of which are in
the Kirman district; one, which is shown in St. John's map of Persia,
is not very far from Regan, in the Narmashir province, and is
surrounded far and wide with ruins. It has been identified by St. John
as the Pahra of Arrian, the capital of Gadrosia, where Alexander
rested after his retreat through Makran. The other is some 16 miles
east of Bampur, to the north-west of Sarbaz. Both are on the banks of
a river, "cultivated and fertile"; both are the centres of an area of
ruins extending for miles; both must find a place in mediaeval
geography. For many reasons, into which I cannot fully enter, I am
inclined to place the Pahra of Arrian in the site near Bampur. It
suits the narrative in many particulars better than does the Pahra
identified with Fahraj by St. John. The latter, I have very little
doubt, is the Fahraj of Idrisi, and the town of Tubaran was not far
from it. Fardan may well have been either Bampur itself (a very
ancient town) or Pahra, 16 miles to the east of it; and between Fardan
and Fahraj lay the district of Kir (or Kiz) Kaian, which has been
stated to be a district of Rasak. "On Tubaran," says Idrisi, "are
dependent Mahyak, Kir Kaian, Sura" (? Suza), "Fardan" (? Bampur or
Pahra), "Kashran" (? Khasrin), "and Masurjan. Masurjan is a
well-peopled commercial town surrounded with villages on the banks of
the Tubaran, from which town it is 42 miles distant. Masurjan to Darak
Yamuna 141 miles, Darak Yamuna to Firabuz 175 miles." If we take Regan
to represent the old city of Masurjan, and Yakmina as the modern
representative of Darak Yamuna, we shall find Idrisi's distances most
surprisingly in accordance with modern mapping. Regan is about 40
miles from Fahraj, and the other distances, though not accurate of
course, are much more approximately correct than could possibly have
been expected from the generality of Idrisi's compilation.

I cannot, however, now open up a fresh chapter on mediaeval geography
in Persia. It is Makran itself to which I wish to draw attention. In
our thirst for trans-frontier knowledge farther north and farther
west, we have somewhat overlooked this very remarkable country. Idrisi
commences his description with the assertion that "Makran is a vast
country, mostly desert." We have not altogether found it so. It is
true that the voyager who might be condemned to coast his way from the
Gulf of Oman to the port of Karachi in the hot weather, might wonder
what of beauty, wealth, or even interest, could possibly lie beyond
that brazen coast washed by that molten sea; might well recall the
agonies of thirst endured during the Greek retreat; might think of the
lost armies of Cyrus and Simiramis; and whilst his eye could not fail
to be impressed with the grand outlines of those bold headlands which
guard the coast, his nose would be far more rudely reminded of the
unpleasant proximity of Ichthyophagi than delighted by soft odours of
spikenard or myrrh. And yet, for century after century, the key to the
golden gate of Indian commerce lay behind those Makran hills. Beyond
those square-headed bluffs and precipices, hidden amongst the serrated
lines of jagged ridges, was the high-road to wealth and fame, where
passed along not only many a rich khafila loaded with precious
merchandise, but many a stout array of troops besides. Those citizens
of Makran who "loved fair dealing, who were men of their word, and
enemies to fraud," who welcomed the lagging khafila, or sped on their
way the swift camel-mounted soldiers of Arabia, could have little
dreamed that for centuries in the undeveloped future, when trade
should pass over the high seas round the southern coast of Africa, and
the Western infidel should set his hated foot on Eastern shores,
Makran should sink out of sight and into such forgetfulness by the
world, that eventually this ancient land of the sun should become
something less well known than those mountains of the moon in which
lay the far-off sources of the Egyptian Nile.

Yet it is not at all impossible that Makran may once again rise to
significance in Indian Councils. Men's eyes have been so much turned
to the proximity of Russia and Russian railways to the Indian frontier
that they have hardly taken into serious consideration the problems of
the future, which deal with the direct connection overland between
India and Europe other than those which touch Seistan or Herat. That
such connection will finally eventuate either through Seistan or Herat
(or through both) no one who has any appreciation of the power of
commercial interests to overcome purely military or political
objections will doubt; but meanwhile it may be more than interesting
to prove that a line through Persia is quite a practicable scheme,
although it would not be practicable on any alignment that has as yet
been suggested. It would not be practicable by following the coast,
for instance. It would be useless to link up Teheran with Mashad,
unless the Seistan line were adopted in extension; and the proposal to
join Ispahan to Seistan through Central Persia would involve such a
lengthening of the route to India as would seriously discount its
value. The only solution of the difficulty is through Makran to
Karachi. Military nervousness would thus be met by the fact that
Russia could make no use of such a line for purposes of invasion,
inasmuch as it would be commanded and protected from the sea.
Political difficulties with Afghanistan would be absolutely avoided by
a Persian line. Whether that would be better than a final agreement
with Russia based on mutual interest, which would certainly make
strongly for the peace of our borders, is another question. I am only
concerned just now in illustrating the geography of Makran and
pointing out its facilities as a land of possible routes to India, and
in showing how the exploration of Baluchistan and of Western India was
secured in mediaeval times by means of these routes.

It will, then, be interesting to note that at the eastern extremity of
Makran, dovetailed between the Makran hills as they sweep off with a
curve westward and our Sind frontier hills as they continue their
general strike southwards, is the little state of Las Bela. The
mountain conformation which encloses it makes the flat alluvial
portion of the state triangular in shape, and from the apex of the
triangle to the sea runs a river now known as the Purali, which in
ancient times was called the Arabis from the early Arab occupation of
the region. There are relics of apparent Arabic origin which,
independently of Greek records, testify to a very early interest in
this corner of the Indian borderland. Las Bela has a history which is
not without interest. It has been a Buddhist centre, and the caves of
Gondakahar near by testify to the ascetic fervour of the Buddhist
priesthood. The grave of one of the greatest of frontier political
leaders, Sir Robert Sandeman, lies near this little capital. Already
it forms an object of devotional pilgrimage through all the Sind
countryside. Possibly once again it may happen that Las Bela will be a
wayside resting-place on the road to India, as it has undoubtedly been
in the centuries of the past. It is not difficult to reach Las Bela
from Karachi by following the modern telegraph line. There are no
great physical obstacles interposed to make the way thorny for the
slow-moving train of a khafila, and where camels can take their
stately way there the more lively locomotive can follow. Should the
railway from Central Persia (let us say Ispahan) ever extend its iron
lines to Las Bela, it will make little of the rest of its extension to
Karachi. It is the actual physical arrangement of Makran topography
only which really matters; and here we are but treading in the
footsteps of the ubiquitous Arab when first he made his way
south-eastward from Arabia, or from Syria, to the Indian frontier. He
could, and he did, pass from the plateau of Persia into the very heart
of Makran without encountering the impediment of a single difficult
pass.

Although the chief trade route of the Arabs to India was not through
Persia, but by way of the sea in coasting vessels, it is probable that
both Arabs and Persians before them made good use of the geographical
opportunities offered for an approach to the Indus valley and Northern
India, and that the central line of Persian approach through Makran
had been a world-old route for centuries. It is really a delightful
route to follow, full of the interest of magnificent scenery and of
varied human existence, and it is the telegraph route from Ispahan to
Panjgur in Makran. With the initial process of reaching Ispahan,
whether through the Kurdistan hills from Baghdad by way of Kermanshah
and the ancient town of Hamadan to Kum (the mountain road selected for
the telegraph line), or whether from Teheran to Kum and thence by
Kashan (a line not so replete with hills), we have no concern. This
part of Persia now falls by agreement under the influence of Russia,
and it is only by further agreement with Russia that this link in any
European connection could be forged. But from Ispahan to Karachi one
may still look over the wide uplands of the Persian plateau and
imagine, if we please, that it is for England to take her share in the
development of these ancient highways into a modern railway. Ispahan
is 5300 feet above sea-level, and from Ispahan one never descends to a
lower level than 3000 feet till one enters Makran.

As Ispahan lies in a wide valley separated by a continuous line of
flanking hills from the main high road of Central Persia, which
connects Teheran and Kashan with Kirman, passing through Yezd, it is
necessary to cross this intervening divide in order to reach Yezd.
There is a waterway through the hills, near Taft, a little to the
south-west of Yezd which meets this difficulty. From Yezd onwards to
the south-west of Kirman, Bam, and the populous plains of Narmashir
and Regan, the road is never out of sight of mountains, the long lines
of the Persian ranges flanking it north and south culminating in the
magnificent peak of the Koh-i-Basman, but leaving a wide space between
unhindered by passes or rivers. From Narmashir the modern telegraph
passes off north-eastward to Seistan, and from there follows the new
trade route to Nushki and Quetta. It is probable that through all ages
this palpable method of circumventing the Dasht-i-Lut (the Kirman
desert) by skirting it on the south was adopted by travellers seeking
Seistan and Kandahar. There is, however, the difficulty of a
formidable band of mountains skirting the desert Seistan, which would
be a difficulty to railway construction. From Regan to Bampur and
Panjgur the normal and most convenient mountain conformation (although
the ranges close in and the valleys narrow) points an open way, with
no obstacle to bar the passage even of a motor; but after leaving
Bampur on the east there is a divide (of about 4000 to 5000 feet) to
be crossed before dropping into the final system of Mashkhel drainage,
which leads straight on to Panjgur, Kalat, and Quetta. Early Arab
commercial explorers did not usually make this detour to Quetta in
order to reach the Indus delta country, nor should we, if we wished to
take the shortest line and the easiest through Persia to Karachi or
Bombay. Much depends on the objective in India. Calcutta may be
reached from the Indus valley by the north-western lines on the normal
Indian gauge, or it may be reached through the Rajputana system on the
metre gauge. But for the latter system and for Bombay, Karachi becomes
our objective. To reach Karachi _via_ Seistan and Quetta would add at
least 500 unnecessary miles to our route from Central Persia, an
amount which equals the total distance between the present Russian
terminus of the Transcaspian line at Kushk and our own Indian terminus
at New Chaman. A direct through line from Panjgur to Karachi by the
old Arab caravan route, within striking distance from the sea, would
apparently outflank not only all political objections, but would
satisfy those military objectors who can only see in a railway the
opportunity for invasion of India.




CHAPTER IX

EARLIEST ENGLISH EXPLORATION--CHRISTIE AND POTTINGER


The Arabs of the Mediaeval period, whose footsteps we have been
endeavouring to trace, were after their fashion true geographers and
explorers. True that with them the process of empire-making was
usually a savage process in the first instance, followed by the
peaceable extension of commercial interests. Trade with them (as with
us) followed the flag, and the Semitic instinct for making the most of
a newly-acquired property was ever the motive for wider exploration.
With the Chinese, during the Buddhist period, the ecstatic bliss of
pilgrimage, and the acquirement of special sanctity, were the motive
power of extraordinary energies; but with this difference of impulse
the result was much the same. Arab trader and Chinese pilgrim alike
gave to the world a new record, a record of geographical fact which,
simple and unscientific as it might be, was yet a true revelation for
the time being. But when Buddhism had become a memory, and Arab
domination had ceased to regulate the affairs of the Indus valley;
when the devastating hordes of the Mongol swept through Afghanistan to
the plains of India, geographical record no longer formed part of the
programme, and exploration found no place in the scheme of conquest.
The Mongol and the Turk were not geographers, such as were the Chinese
pilgrim and the Arab, and one gets little or nothing from either of
geographical record, in spite of the abundance of their historical
literature and the really high standard of literary attainment enjoyed
by many of the Turk leaders. That truly delightful historical
personage Babar, for instance, "the adventurer," the founder of the
Turk dynasty in India, good-looking, intellectual, possessed of great
ability as a soldier, endowed with true artistic temperament as
painter, poet, and author, the man who has left to all subsequent ages
an autobiography which is almost unique in its power of presenting to
the mind of its reader the impression of a "whole, real, live, human
being," with all his faults and his fancies, his affections and
aspirations, was apparently unimpressed with the value of dull details
of geography. He can say much about the human interests of the scenes
of his wanderings; he can describe landscape and climate, flowers and
fruits (especially melons); but though he doubtless possessed the true
bandit's instinct for local topography (which must, indeed, have been
very necessary in many of the episodes of his remarkable career) he
makes no systematic attempt to place before us a clear notion of the
geographical conditions of Afghanistan as they existed in his time.
His literary cousin Haidar is far more useful as a geographer. To him
we owe something more than a vague outline of the elusive kingdom of
Bolar and the limits of Kafiristan, but he merely touches on
Afghanistan in its connection with Tibet, and says little of the
country with which we are now immediately concerned.

The one pre-eminent European traveller of the thirteenth century
(1272-73), the immortal Marco Polo, hardly touched Afghanistan. He and
his kinsmen passed by the high valleys of Vardos and Wakhan on their
way to Kashgar and Cathay, but his geographical information is so
vague as to render it difficult (until the surveys of these regions
were completed) to trace his footsteps. The raid of Taimur into
Kafiristan early in the fifteenth century, when it is said that he
reached Najil from the Khawak Pass over the Hindu Kush, will be
referred to again in dealing with Masson's narrative; but even to this
day it is doubtful how far he succeeded in penetrating into
Kafiristan, although the geographical inference of a practicable
military line of communication between Andarab and the head of the
Alingar River is certain. Three hundred and thirty years after Polo's
journey another European traveller passed through Badakshan and across
the Pamirs. This was the lay Jesuit, Benedict Goes, a true
geographer, bent on the exploration of Cathay and the reconnaissance
of its capabilities as a mission field. He crossed the Parwan Pass of
the Hindu Kush from Kabul to Badakshan and journeyed thence to
Yarkand; but he did not survive to tell his story in sufficient detail
to leave intelligible geography. We find practically no useful
geographical records of Afghanistan during many centuries of its
turbulent history, so that from the time of Arab commercial enterprise
to the days of our forefathers in India, when Afghanistan began to
loom large on the political horizon as a factor in our relations with
Russia and it became all important to know of what Afghanistan
consisted, there is little to collect from the pages of its turbid
history which can fairly rank as a record of geographical exploration.
It took a long time to awaken an intelligent interest in trans-Indus
geography in the minds of India's British administrators. But for
Russia it is possible that it would have remained unawakened still;
but early in the nineteenth century the shadow of Russia began to loom
over the north-western horizon, and it became unpleasantly obvious
that if we did not concern ourselves with Afghan politics, and secure
some knowledge of Afghan territory, our northern neighbours would not
fail to secure the advantages of early action.

It is strange to recall the fact that we are indebted to the Emperor
Napoleon Buonaparte for the first exploration made by British
officers into the trans-frontier regions of Afghanistan and
Baluchistan in British political interests. Nearly a century ago (in
1810) the uneasiness created by the ambitious schemes of that most
irrepressible military freebooter resulted in the nomination of two
officers of Bombay Infantry to investigate the countries lying to the
west of what was then British India, with a view to ascertaining the
possibilities of invasion. The Punjab and Sind intervened between
British India and the hinterland of the frontier, and their
independence and jealous suspicion of the expansive tendency of the
British Raj added greatly to the difficulties and the risks of any
such trans-frontier enterprise. The Bombay Infantry has ever been a
sort of nursery for explorers of the best and most famous type, and
the two young gentlemen selected for this remarkable exploit were
worthy forerunners of Burton and Speke. The traditions of intelligence
service may almost be said to have been founded by them. The rule of
exploration a century ago admitted of no elaborate preparation: a
knowledge of the languages to be encountered was the one acquisition
which was deemed indispensable; and there can be little doubt that the
knowledge of Oriental tongues was an advantage which in those days
very rapidly led to distinction. It was probably less widespread but
much more thorough than it is at present. Captain Christie and
Lieutenant Pottinger started fair in the characters which they meant
to assume during their travels. They embarked as natives in a native
ship, and from the very outset they found it necessary to play up to
their disguise. The port of Sonmiani on the north-eastern shores of
the Arabian Sea was the objective in the first instance, and the role
of horse-dealers in the service of a Bombay firm was the part they
elected to play. How far it really imposed on Baluch or Afghan it is
difficult to say. One cannot but recollect that when another gallant
officer in later years assumed this disguise on the Persian frontier,
he was regarded as a harmless but eccentric European, who injured
nobody by the assumption of an expert knowledge which he did not
possess. He was known locally for years after his travels had ceased
as the English officer who "called himself" a horse-dealer.

Sonmiani was a more important port a century ago than it is now that
Karachi has absorbed the trade of the Indus coast; but even then the
mud flats which render the village so unapproachable from the coast
were in process of formation, and it was only with favourable
conditions of tide that this wretched and long overlooked little
seaport could be reached. Sonmiani, however, may yet again rise to
distinction, for it is a notable fact that the facility for reaching
the interior of Baluchistan and the Afghan frontier by this route,
which facility decided its selection by Christie and Pottinger, is no
less nowadays than it was then. The explanation of it lies in the fact
that the route practically turns the frontier hills. It follows the
extraordinary alignment of their innumerable folds, passing between
them from valley to valley instead of breaking crudely across the
backbone of the system, and slips gently into the flat places of the
plateau land which stretch from Kharan to Kandahar. The more obvious
reason which presented itself to these early explorers was doubtless
the avoidance of the independent buffer land of Sind. They experienced
little difficulty, in spite of many warnings of the dangers in front
of them, when they left Sonmiani for Bela. At Bela they interviewed an
interesting and picturesque personality in the person of the Jam, and
were closely questioned about the English and their proceedings.
Apparently the Jam was prepared to accept their description of things
European generally, until they ventured to describe a 100-gun warship
and its equipment. Such an astounding creation he was unable to
believe in, and he frankly said so. From Bela the great northern
high-road led to the old capital, Khozdar, through a district infested
with Brahui robbers; but there was no better alternative, and the two
officers followed it. On the whole, the Brahui tribespeople treated
them well, and there was no serious collision. Khozdar was an
important centre in those days, with eight hundred houses, and certain
Hindu merchants from Shikarpur drove a thriving business there.
Nothing was more extraordinary in the palmy days of Sind than the
widespread commercial interests of Shikarpur. Credit could be obtained
at almost all the chief towns of Central Asia through the Shikarpur
merchants, and it was by draft, or "hundi," on Hindu bankers far and
wide that travellers were able to keep themselves supplied with cash
as they journeyed through these long stages.

The route to Kalat passed by Sohrab and Rodinjo, and the two wayfarers
reached Kalat on February 9, 1810. The cold was intense; they were
quite unprepared for it, and suffered accordingly. Living with the
natives and putting up at the Mehman Khana (the guest house) of such
principal villages or towns as possessed one, they naturally were
thrown very closely into contact with native life, and learned native
opinions. The views of such travellers when dealing with the social
details of native existence are especially valuable, and the opinions
expressed by them of the character and disposition of the people
amongst whom they lived, and with whom they daily conversed on every
conceivable subject, are infinitely to be preferred to those of the
state officials of that time who lived in an artificial atmosphere.
Thus we find very considerable divergence in the opinions expressed
regarding Baluch and Afghan character between such close observers as
Pottinger or Masson and such eminent authorities as Burnes and
Elphinstone. The splendid hospitality and the affectation of
frankness which is common to all these varied types of frontier
humanity, combined with their magnificent presence, and very often
with a determined adherence to certain rules of guardianship and the
faithful discharge of the duties which it entails, are all of them
easily recognizable virtues which are much in the minds and mouths of
official travellers with a mission. The counteracting vices, the
spirit of fanatical hatred, of thievish malevolence, and the utter
social demoralization which usually (but not always) distinguishes
their domestic life and disgusts the stranger, is not so much _en
evidence_, and is only to be discerned by those who mix freely with
ordinary natives of the jungle and bazaar. As an instance, take
Pottinger's estimate of Persian character; it is really worth
recording as the impression of one of the earliest of English soldier
travellers. "Among themselves, with their equals, the Persians are
affable and polite; to their superiors, servile and obsequious;
towards their inferiors, haughty and domineering. All ranks are
equally avaricious, sordid, and dishonest.... Falsehood they look on
... as highly commendable, and good faith, generosity, and gratitude
are alike unknown to them. In debauchery none can exceed them, and
some of their propensities are too execrable and infamous to admit of
mention.... I feel inclined to look upon Persia, at the present day,
to be the very fountainhead of every species of tyranny, cruelty,
meanness, injustice, extortion, and infamy that can disgrace or
pollute human nature, and have ever been found in any age or nation."
These are strong terms to use about a people of whom we have been
assured that the basis of their youthful education is to "ride, to
shoot, and to speak the truth!" and yet who is it who knows Persia who
will say even now that they are undeserved? May the Persian parliament
mend their morals and reform their methods--if, indeed, such a "silk
purse" as a parliament can be made out of such crude material as the
Persian plebs!

In spite of endless vexations and much spiteful malevolence, which
included endless attempts to trip up Pottinger in his assumed disguise
(and which, it must be admitted, were met by a not too strict
adherence to the actual truth on Pottinger's part), he does not
condemn the Baluchi and the Afghan in such terms as he applies to the
Persian; but he illustrates most forcibly the dangers arising from
habitual lawlessness due to the semi-feudal system of the Baluch
federation, and consequent want of administrative responsibility. In
spite, however, of endless difficulties, he finally got through, and
so did Christie; and for the getting through they were both largely
indebted to the vicarious hospitality of village chiefs and heads of
independent clans.

At Kalat they found it far easier to get into the timber and mud
fortress than to get out again, and this difficulty repeated itself at
Nushki. At Nushki begins the real interest of their adventures.
Christie (after the usual wrangling and procrastination which attended
all arrangements for onward movement) took his way to Herat on almost
the exact line of route (_via_ Chagai, the Helmund, and Seistan) which
was followed seventy-three years later by the Russo-Afghan Boundary
Commission. Pottinger made what was really a far more venturesome
journey _via_ Kharan to Jalk and Persia. The meeting of these two
officers eventually at Ispahan in the darkness of night, and their
gradual recognition of each other, is as dramatic a story as the
meeting of Nearkhos with Alexander in Makran, or of Nansen with
Jackson amongst the ice-floes of the Far North.

Christie gives us but small detail of his adventures. He necessarily
suffered much from thirst, but met with no serious encounters. Beyond
a well-deserved tribute to the sweet beauty of that picturesque
wayside town of Anardara in his careful record of his progress
northward from Seistan, where he made Jalalabad (which he calls
Doshak) his base for further exploration, he says very little about
the country he passed through. Incidentally he mentions Pulaki
(Poolki) as a very remarkable relic of past ages. He describes the
ruins of this place as covering an area of 16 square miles. Ferrier
mentions the same place subsequently, and locates it about a day's
march to the north of Kala-i-Fath (which Christie did not visit), and
it must have been one of the most famous of mediaeval towns in Seistan.
But as collective ruins covering an area of 500 square miles have been
noted by Mr. Tate, the surveyor of the late Seistan mission, who
camped in their midst to the north of Kala-i-Fath, the exact site of
Pulaki may yet require careful research before it is identified.
Seistan is the land of half-buried ruins. No such extent of ruins
exists anywhere else in the world. It seems probable, therefore, that,
like the sites of many another ancient city of Seistan, Pulaki has
been either partially or absolutely absorbed in the boundless sea of
desert sand, which envelops and hides away each trace of the past as
its waves move forward in irresistible sequence before the howling
blasts of the north-west.

Christie's route through Seistan followed the track connecting
Jalalabad on the Helmund with Peshawaran on the Farah Rud in dry
seasons, but which disappears in seasons of flood, when the two hamuns
or lakes of Seistan become one. Pushing on to Jawani he passed
Anardara on April 4, and reached Herat on the 18th. His description of
Herat is of a very general character, but is sufficient to indicate
that no very great change took place between the time of his visit and
that of the 1883 Commission. He was fairly well received, and
remained a month without any incident worthy of note, leaving on May
18 for Persia.

This century-old visit of a British officer to Herat is chiefly
notable for its revelations as to the attitude of the Afghan
Government and people towards the English at the time it was made.
With the exception of the risk inseparable from travel in a lawless
country infested with organised bands of professional robbers, there
appears to have been no hostility bred by fanaticism or suspicion of
the trend of British policy. Afghanistan was socially in about the
same stage of development that France was in the days of Louis XI.--or
England a little earlier; and it is only the solidity conferred on
Afghan administration by the moral support of the British Government
which has effected any real change. Were England to abandon India
to-morrow there would be nothing to prevent a lapse into the same
condition of social anarchy which prevailed a century ago. India would
become the bait for ceaseless activity on the part of every Afghan
border chief who thought he had following sufficient to make a raid
effective. A thin veneer of civilization has crept into Afghanistan
with motors and telegraphs, but with it also has arisen new incentives
to hostility from dread of a possible loss of independence, and (in
the western parts of Afghanistan) from real fanatical hatred to the
infidel. Thus Afghanistan is actually more dangerous as a field of
exploration to the individual European at the present moment than it
was in the days of Christie and Pottinger. At the same time, British
military assistance would not only be welcome nowadays in case of a
conflict with a foreign enemy, but it would be claimed as the
fulfilment of a political engagement and expected as a right.

Christie's stay at Herat seems to have been quite uneventful, and when
he left for Persia no one barred his way. The Persian frontier then
seems to have been rather more than 20 miles distant from
Herat--Christie places it a mile beyond the village of "Sekhwan," 22
miles from the city. The only place which appears to correspond with
the position of Sekhwan now is Shakiban, which probably represents
another village. Making rapid progress westward through Persia, he
eventually reached Ispahan, where he rejoined Pottinger on June 30. It
must have been a hot and trying experience!

Lieutenant Pottinger's adventures after leaving Nushki (from which
place he had considerable difficulty in effecting his departure) were
more exciting and apparently more risky than those of Christie. He
selected a route which no European has subsequently attempted, and
which it would be difficult to follow from his description of it were
it not that this region has now been completely surveyed. He struck
southwards down the Bado river, which leads almost directly to Kharan
and the desert beyond it stretching to the Mashkhel "hamun" or swamp.
He did not visit Kharan itself, and he apparently misplaces its
position by at least 50 miles, unless, indeed (which is quite
possible), the present site of the Naoshirwani capital is far removed
from that of a century ago. I am unaware, however, that any evidence
exists to that effect.

Until the desert was encountered there was no great difficulty on this
route, but the horror of that desert crossing fully atoned for any
lack of unpleasant incident previously. It would even now be regarded
as a formidable undertaking, and we can easily understand the deadly
feelings that beset this pioneer explorer as he made his way in the
month of April from Kharan on a south-westerly track to the border of
Persia at Jalk. His description of this desert, like the rest of his
narrative, is full of instructive suggestion. The scope of his
observation generally, and the accuracy of the information which he
collected about the infinitely complex nationality of the Baluch
tribes, renders his evidence valuable as regards the natural phenomena
which he encountered; and no part of this evidence is more interesting
than his story of the Kharan desert, especially as no one since his
time has made anything like a scientific examination of its
construction and peculiarities. He describes it as a sea of red sand,
"the particles of which were so light that when taken in the hand
they were scarcely more than palpable; the whole is thrown into an
irregular mass of waves, principally running from east to west, and
varying in height from 10 to 20 feet. Most of them rise
perpendicularly on the opposite side to that from which the prevailing
wind blows (north-west), and might readily be fancied at a distance to
resemble a new brick wall. The side facing the wind slopes off with a
gradual declivity to the base (or near it) of the next windward wave."
He further describes a phenomenon which he observed in the midst of
this sand sea, which I think has not been described by any later
traveller or surveyor. He says "the desert seemed at a distance of
half a mile or less to have an elevated or flat surface from 6 to 12
inches higher than the summits of the waves. This vapour appeared to
recede as we advanced, and once or twice completely encircled us,
limiting the horizon to a very confined space, and conveying a most
gloomy and unnatural sensation to the mind of the beholder; at the
same moment we were imperceptibly covered with innumerable atoms of
small sand, which, getting into our eyes, mouths and nostrils, caused
excessive irritation, attended with extreme thirst that was increased
in no small degree by the intense heat of the sun." This was only
visible during the hottest part of the day. Pottinger's explanation of
this curious phenomenon is that the fine particles of this dust-sand,
which are swept into the air almost daily by the force of the
north-west winds, fail to settle down at once when those winds cease,
but float in the air by reason of some change in their specific
gravity due to rarefaction from intense heat; and he adds that he has
seen this condition of sand-haze at the same time that, in an opposite
quarter, he has observed the mirage or luminous appearance of water
which is common to all deserts. Crossing the bed of the Budu (the
Mashkhel nullah--dry in April), he makes a curious mistake about the
direction of its waters, which he says run in a south-easterly
direction towards the coast. It actually runs north-west and empties
itself (when there is water in it) into the Mashkhel swamps. I must
admit, however, that, from personal observation, it is often
exceedingly difficult to decide from a casual inspection in which
direction the water of these abnormally flat nullahs runs. Shortly
after passing the Mashkhel, he encountered an ordinary dust-storm,
followed by heavy rain, which much modified the terrors of the awful
heat.

Pottinger has something to say about the hot winds that occur between
June and September in these regions, known as the Bad-i-Simun, or
pestilential winds, which kill men exposed to them and destroy
vegetation, but his information was not derived from actual
observation, and it is difficult to get any really authentic account
of these winds. Parts of the Sind desert are equally subject to them.
After losing his way (which was inexcusable on the part of his guide
with the hills in sight), he arrived finally at the delightful little
valley of Kalagan, near Jalk, where the terrors of nature were
exchanged for those of his human surroundings. Kalagan is one of the
sweetest and greenest spots of the Baluch frontier, and it is easy to
realize Pottinger's intense joy in its palm groves and orchards. He
was now in Persia, and his subsequent proceedings do not concern our
present purpose. He travelled by Sib and Magas to Pahra and Bampur,
maintaining his disguise as a Pirzada, or wandering religious student,
with some difficulty, as he was insufficiently versed in the tenets of
Islam. However, he acted up to his Moslem professions with a certain
amount of success till he reached Pahra, where he was at once
recognized as an Englishman by a boy who had previously met an English
officer exploring in Southern Persia. But he was excellently well
treated at Pahra, in strange contrast to his subsequent treatment at
Bampur, close by. He eventually reached Kirman, and passed on by the
regular trade route to Ispahan.

It is impossible to take leave of these two gallant young officers
without a tribute of admiration for their magnificent pluck, the
tenacity with which they held to their original purpose, the
forbearance and cleverness with which they met the persistent and
worrying difficulties which were set in their way by truculent native
officials, and the accuracy of their final statements. Pottinger
really left little to be discovered about the distribution of Baluch
tribes, and if his mapping exhibits some curious eccentricities, we
must remember that it was practically a compilation from memory, with
but the vaguest means at his disposal for the measurement of
distances. It was a first map, and by the light of it the success of
the subsequent explorations of Masson (which covered a good deal of
the same ground in Baluchistan) is fairly accounted for. Christie died
a soldier's death early in his career, but Pottinger lived to transmit
an honoured name to yet later adventurers in the field of geography.




CHAPTER X

AMERICAN EXPLORATION--MASSON


In 1832 Lord William Bentinck, then Governor-General of India, found
Shah Sujah, the deposed Amir of Kabul, living as a pensioner at
Ludhiana when he visited the Punjab for an interview with its ruler
Ranjit Singh. At that interview the question of aiding Shah Sujah to
regain his throne from the usurper Dost Mahomed, who was suspected of
Russian proclivities, was mooted; and it was then, probably, that the
seeds of active interference in Afghan politics were sown, although
the idea of aiding Shah Sujah was negatived for the time being. The
result was the mission of Alexander Burnes to Kabul, which formed a
new era in Central Asian geography. From this time forward the map of
Afghanistan commenced to grow. The story of Burnes' first journey to
Kabul was published by Murray in 1834, and his example as a
geographical observer stimulated his assistants Leech, Lord, and Wood
to further enterprise during a second journey to the same capital.
Indeed the geographical work of some of these explorers still remains
as our standard reference for a knowledge of the configuration of
Northern Badakshan. This was the beginning of official recognition of
the value of trans-Indian geographical knowledge to Indian
administration; but then, as now, information obtained through
recognized official agents was apt to be regarded as the only
information worth having; and far too little effort was made to secure
the results of travellers' work, who, in a private capacity and
unhindered by official red tape, were able to acquire a direct
personal knowledge of Afghan geography such as was absolutely
impossible to political agents or their assistants.

Before Indian administrators had seriously turned their attention to
the Afghan buffer-land and set to work to fill up "intelligence"
material at second hand, there was at least one active European agent
in the field who was in direct touch with the chief political actors
in that strange land of everlasting unrest, and who has left behind
him a record which is unsurpassed on the Indian frontier for the width
of its scope of inquiry into matters political, social, economic, and
scientific, and the general accuracy of his conclusions. This was the
American, Masson. It must be remembered that the Punjab and Sind were
almost as much _terra incognita_ to us in 1830 as was Afghanistan. The
approach to the latter country was through foreign territory. The Sikh
chiefs of the Punjab and the Amirs of Sind were not then necessarily
hostile to British interests. They watched, no doubt, the gradual
extension of the red line of our maps towards the north-west and west,
and were fully alive to the probability that, so far as regarded their
own countries, they would all soon be "painted red." But there was no
official discourtesy or intoleration shown towards European
travellers, and in the Sikh-governed Punjab, at any rate, much of the
military control of that most military nationality was in the hands of
European leaders. Nor do we find much of the spirit of fanatical
hatred to the Feringhi even in Afghanistan at that time. The European
came and went, and it was only due to the disturbed state of the
country and the local absence of law and order that he ran any risk of
serious misadventure.

In these days it would be impossible for any European to travel as
Masson or Ferrier travelled in Afghanistan, but in those days there
was something to be gained by friendship with England, and the
weakness of our support was hardly suspected until it was disclosed by
the results of the first Afghan war. So Masson and Ferrier assumed the
role of Afghan travellers, clothed in Afghan garments, but more or
less ignorant of the Afghan language, living with the people,
partaking of their hospitality, studying their ways, joining their
pursuits, discussing their politics, and placing themselves on terms
of familiarity, if not of intimacy, with their many hosts in a way
which has never been imitated since. No one now ever assumes the
dress of the Afghan and lives with him. No one joins a caravan and
sits over the nightly fire discussing bazaar prices or the character
of a chief. A hurried rush to Kabul, a few brief and badly conducted
interviews with the Amir, and the official representative of India's
foreign policy returns to India as an Afghan oracle, but with no more
knowledge of the real inwardness of Afghan political aspiration, or of
the trend of national thought and feeling, than is acquired during a
six months' trip of a travelling M.P. in India. Consequently there is
a peculiar value in the records of such a traveller as Masson. They
are in many ways as valuable now as they were eighty years ago, for
the character of the Afghan has not changed with his history or his
politics. To some extent they are even more valuable, for it is
inevitable that the story of a long travel through an unknown and
unimagined world should be received with a certain amount of
reservation until later experience confirms the tale and verifies
localities.

Fifty years elapsed before the footsteps of Masson could be traced
with certainty. Not till the conclusion of the last Afghan war, and
the final reshaping of the surveys of Baluchistan, could it be said
exactly where he wandered during those strenuous years of unremitting
travel. And now that we can take his story in detail, and follow him
stage by stage through the Indian borderlands, we can only say that,
considering the circumstances under which his observations were taken
and recorded, it is marvellously accurate in geographical detail. Were
his long past history of those stirring times as accurate as his
geography or as his antiquarian information there would be little
indeed left for subsequent investigators to add.

Masson was in the field before Burnes. In the month of September 1830
the Resident in the Persian Gulf writes to the Chief Secretary to the
Government of India[10] that "an American gentleman of the name of
Masson" arrived at Bushire from Bassadore on the "13th June last," and
that he described himself as belonging to the state of Kentucky,
having been absent for ten years from his country, "which he must
consequently have left when he was young, as he is now only about
two-and-thirty years of age." The same letter says that previous to
the breaking out of the war between Russia and Persia in 1826 Masson
"appears to have visited Khorasan from Tiflis by way of Mashed and
Herat, making no effort to conceal his European origin," and that from
Herat he went to Kandahar, Shikarpur, and Sind.

Masson appears to have furnished some valuable information to the
Indian Government regarding the Durani occupation of Herat and the
political situation in Kabul and Kandahar, which, according to his
own account, he subsequently regretted, as he obviously regarded the
British attitude towards Afghanistan at that time in much the same
light as certain continental nations regarded the British attitude
towards the Transvaal previous to the last Boer war. "About the same
time," says the same letter from the Resident at Bushire, Masson was
much in the Bahawalpur country (Sind), after which he proceeded to
Peshawar, Kabul, Ghazni, etc. Extracts from his reports of his
journeys are forwarded with other information. In his book (_Travels
in Afghanistan, Baluchistan, the Punjab, and Kalat_, published in
1842) Masson opens his story with the autumn of 1826, when he was in
Bahawalpur and Sind, which he had approached through Rajputana, and
not from Afghanistan. He has much to say about Bahawalpur which,
however interesting and valuable as first-hand information about a
foreign state in 1826, no longer concerns this story. From Bahawalpur
he passed on to Peshawar and Kabul, from Kabul to Kandahar, and thence
to Shikarpur. As the incidents of his remarkable journey between
Kandahar and Shikarpur, described in the letter of the Bushire
Resident, are obviously the same as those in his book, the inference
is strong that the journey from Tiflis to Herat and Kandahar (which is
not mentioned in the book) has been somehow misplaced in the
Resident's record.

When Masson entered Afghanistan from Peshawar there is certain
indirect evidence that this was the first time that he crossed the
Afghan border. He knew nothing of the Pashto language, which would be
remarkable in the case of a man like Masson, who always lived with the
people and not with the chiefs, and there is not the remotest
reference to any previous visit to Herat in his subsequent history. We
will at any rate follow the text of his own narrative, and surely no
narrative of adventure that has ever appeared before or since in
connection with Afghan exploration can rival it for interest. Peshawar
was at that time held by four Pathan Sirdars, brothers, who were
hardly independent, as they held their country (a small space
extending to about 25 miles round Peshawar, and which included Kohat
and Hangu) entirely at the pleasure of Ranjit Singh, the Sikh Chief of
the Punjab. Some show of making a strike for independence had been
made in connection with the Yusufzai rising led by Saiad Ahmad Shah,
but it had been suppressed, and during the temporary occupation of
Peshawar by the Sikhs the city had been despoiled and devastated.
Masson estimated that there were about fifty or sixty thousand
inhabitants in Peshawar, where he was exceedingly well treated.
"People of all classes were most civil and desirous to oblige." He was
an honoured guest at all entertainments.

How long Masson remained at Peshawar it is difficult to say, for there
is a most lamentable absence of dates from his records, and Peshawar
appears to have been the base from which he started on a good many
excursions. Finally he made acquaintance with a Pathan who offered to
accompany him to Kabul, and he left Peshawar for Afghanistan by the
Khaibar route. He mentions two other routes as being popular in those
days, _i.e._ those of Abkhana and Karapa, and he asserts that they
were far more secure for traders than the Khaibar, but not so level
nor so direct. Masson started with his companion, dressed as a Pathan,
but taking nothing but a few pais (copper coins) and a book. His
companion, however, possessed a knife tied up in a corner of his
pyjamas. After cautiously crossing the plains and some intervening
hills, they struck the high road of the Khaibar apparently not far
from Ali Masjid, and here they fell in with the first people they had
met _en route_--about twenty men sitting in the shade of a rock,
"elderly, respectable, and venerable." They were hospitably received
and entertained, and news of the arrival of a European quickly spread.
Every European was expected to be a doctor in those days, and Masson
had to assume the role and make the most of his limited medical
knowledge. He either prescribed local remedies, or healed the sick on
Christian Science principles with a certain amount of success--enough
to ensure him a welcome wherever he went. It is a curious story for
any one who has traversed the Khaibar in these later days to read. A
European with a most limited knowledge of Pushto tramping the road in
company with a Pathan, living the simple life of the people, picking
up information every yard of the way, keenly interested in his rough
surroundings, taking count of the ragged groups of stone-built huts
clinging to the hill-sides or massed around a central citadel in the
open plain, with here and there a disintegrating monument crowning the
hill-top with a cupola or dome, the like of which he had never seen
before.

Masson had hardly realized in these early days that he was on one of
the routes most sacred to pilgrimage of all those known to the
disciples of Buddha, and it was not till later years that he set about
a systematic exploration of the extraordinary wealth of Buddhist
relics which lie about Jalalabad and the valleys adjoining the Khaibar
route to Kabul. On his journey he made his way with the varied
incidents of adventure common to the time--robbed at one place,
treated with hospitality at another; sitting under the mulberry trees
discussing politics with all the energy of the true Afghan (who is
never deficient in the power of expressing his political sentiments),
and, taking it altogether, enjoying a close, if not an absolutely
friendly, intimacy with the half-savage people of those wholly savage
hills. An intimacy, such as no other educated European has ever
attained, and which tells a tale of a totally different attitude on
the part of the Afghan towards the European then, to that which has
existed since. The fact that Masson was American and not English
counted for nothing. The difference was not recognized by the Afghans,
although it was explained by him sometimes with careful elaboration.
It was the time when Dost Mahomed ruled in Kabul, but with the claims
of Shah Sujah (possibly backed by both Sikh and British) on the
political horizon. It was a time of political intrigue amongst Afghan
Sirdars and chiefs so complicated and so widespread as to be almost
unintelligible at this distance of time, and not even Masson, with all
his advantages of intimate association and great powers of intuition,
seems to have fathomed the position satisfactorily. Consequently it
was to the interests of the Afghan Government to stand well with the
British, even if it were equally their aim to keep on good terms with
Russia--in short, to play the same game that has lasted during the
rest of the century, and which threatens to last for many another
decade yet. But this was before the mission of Burnes, and before the
events of the subsequent Afghan war had taught the Afghan that British
arms were not necessarily invincible, nor British promises always
trustworthy.

Apart from the ordinary chances of disaster on the roads arising from
the lack of law and order, any European would have met with a
hospitable reception at that time, and Masson himself relates how, in
Kabul, during some of the friendly gatherings which he attended, the
respective probabilities of British or Russian intervention in Kabul
affairs was a common subject of discussion. It is easy for one who
knows the country to picture him sitting under the shade of the
mulberry trees, with the soft lush of the Afghan summer in grass and
flowers about him, the scent of the willow in the air, and, across the
sliding blue of the Kabul River, a dim haze shadowing the rounded
outlines of some ancient stupa, whilst trying to unriddle the tangle
of Afghan politics or taking notes of weird stories and ancient
legends. Nothing seems to have come amiss to his inquiring mind.
Archaeology, numismatics, botany, geology, and history--it was all new
to him, and an inexhaustible opportunity lay before him. He certainly
made good use of it. He busied himself, amongst other things, with an
inquiry into the origin of the Siahposh Kafirs, and, although his
speculations regarding them have long been discounted by the results
of subsequent investigation from nearer points of view, it is
interesting to note how these savages were then regarded by the
nearest Mahomedan communities. Masson admits that the history of a
Greek origin is supported by all natural and historical indications,
but he declines to accept "so bold and welcome an inference." Why he
should call it "bold and welcome" and then reject it, is not
explained, but it is probable that he accepted the claim to a Greek
origin on the part of the Kafirs as indicating that they claimed to
be Greek and nothing but Greek. When we consider the number and extent
of the Greek colonies which once existed beyond the Hindu Kush it
would indeed be surprising if there were no survival of Greek blood in
the veins of the people who, in the last stronghold of a conquered and
hunted race, represent the debris of the once powerful Baktrian
kingdom. Incidentally he discussed the interesting episode of Timur's
invasion of Kafiristan, a subject on which no recent investigations
have thrown any further light. The story, as told by Timur's
historian, Sharifudin, says that in A.D. 1399, when Timur was at
Andarab, complaints were made to him of outrage and oppression by the
exaction of tribute, or "Karaj," against the idolaters of Katawar and
the Siahposh. It appears that Katawar was then the general name for
the northern regions of Kafiristan, although no reference to that name
had been recorded lately.

Timur is said to have taken a third part of the army of the Andarab
against the infidels, and to have reached Perjan (probably Parwan),
from whence he detached a part of his force to act to the north of
that place, whilst he himself proceeded to Kawak, which is certainly
Khawak at the head of the Panjshir valley. If Perjan is Parwan (which
I think most probable) this distribution of his force would indicate
that he held the Panjshir valley at both ends, and thus secured his
flank whilst operating in Kafiristan. From Khawak he "made the
ascent" of the mountains of "Ketnev" (_i.e._ he crossed the
intervening snow-covered divide between the Panjshir and the head of
the Alishang) and descended upon the fortress of Najil. This was
abandoned by the Siahposh Kafirs, who held a high hill on the left
bank of the river. After an obstinate fight the hill was carried, and
the male infidels, "whose souls were blacker than their garments,"
were killed, and their women and children carried away. Timur set up a
marble pillar with an inscription recording the event, and it would be
exceedingly interesting if that pillar could be identified. Masson
thinks that a structure which he ascertained to have been in existence
in his time a little to the north of Najil, known as the Timur Hissar
(Timur's Fort), may be the fort which Timur destroyed after it had
been abandoned by the Kafirs, and that the record of his victory would
be found near by. The chief of Najil in Masson's time claimed descent
from Timur, and there was (and is still) so much of Tartar tradition
enveloping the valley of Najil (or the upper Alishang) as to make it
fairly certain that Tartar, or Mongol, troops did actually invade that
valley from the Panjshir, and that there is consequently a practicable
pass from the Panjshir into the upper Alishang.

If we are correct in our assumption of the position of Farajghan and
Najil in the modern maps of Afghanistan, as determined from native
sources of information (for no surveyor has ever laid down the course
of the upper affluents of the Alishang) this Mongol force must have
crossed from about the centre of the Panjshir valley. It is a matter
of interest to observe that, historically, between Afghan Turkistan
and the Kabul plain the fashionable pass over the Hindu Kush until
quite recently was the Parwan, and this, no doubt, was due to the fact
that its altitude (12,300 feet) is less by quite 2000 feet than that
of the Kaoshan which closely adjoins it, although the Kaoshan is in
some other important respects the easier pass of the two. The Khawak,
at the head of the Panjshir, is lower still (11,650 feet), but it
offers a more circuitous route; whilst the Chahardar, the pass
selected by the Amir Abdurrahmon for the construction of a high-road
into Afghan Turkistan from the Kabul plain, is as high as the Kaoshan.
All these routes converge on the important strategical position of
Charikar, adjoining the junction of the Ghorband and Panjshir rivers;
and they all lead from that ancient strategical centre of Baktria, the
Andarab basin. Undoubtedly through all time the passage over the
Khawak (now a well-trodden khafila route, said to be open to traffic
all the year round) must have been the most attractive to the
freebooters and adventurers of the north; but there appears to have
been a reputation for ferocity and strength attached to the
inhabitants of the Panjshir valley, which was remarkable even in the
days when the only recognized right was might, and half Asia was
peopled by barbarians. They were spoken of with the respect due to a
condition of savage independence by the Arab writers who detail the
geography of these regions, and it is probable that they shared the
historical lawlessness of their Kafir neighbours (the Siahposh), even
if in those days they did not share a race affinity. At the beginning
of the sixteenth century the Emperor Babar notes that the Panjshir
people paid tribute to their neighbours the Kafirs.

Masson's observations on this troublous corner of Asiatic geography
are shrewd and interesting, and as much to the purpose to-day as they
were when they were written. The explorations of McNair and Robertson
over the Kafiristan border from Chitral, and the march of Lockhart's
party through the Arnawai valley, added much to the geographical
knowledge of the eastern fringe of Kafiristan, whilst the
identification of the Koh-i-Mor with the classic Meros, and of certain
sections of the eastern Kafirs as representative of the ancient
Nysaeans, clearly establishes the Greek connection about which Masson
was so sceptical. But the Kafirs of Central and Western Kafiristan,
the inhabitants of the upper basins of the Alishang and Alingar about
the centre of the Hindu Kush and of the Badakshan rivers to the north,
are just as unknown to us as they were to him. The only certain
inference that we can draw from the total absence of history about
these valleys of the Hindu Kush is that between the Khawak Pass at
the head of the Panjshir valley on the west, and the Minjan Pass
leading to Chitral on the east, there is not, and never has been, a
practicable route connecting the Kabul basin with Badakshan. No Arab
khafilas ever passed that way; no hordes of raiding robbers from
Central Asian fields ever forced a passage southward through those
Kafir defiles; they are still dark and impenetrable, the home of
distinct and separate valley communities, differing as widely in form
of speech as in superstitious ritual, the very flotsam and jetsam of
High Asia, as wild as the eagles above them or the markhor on their
craggy hill-sides.

We will not follow Masson into the mazes of Afghan political history.
It is all a story of the past, but a story with a moral to it. Had the
Government of India in those days but troubled itself to obtain
information from existing practical sources within its reach, instead
of improvising a most imperfect political intelligence system, the
subsequent war with Afghanistan would have been conducted on very
different lines to those which were adopted, if it ever took place at
all.

Masson made his way steadily to Kabul after meeting with adventures
and vicissitudes enough for a two-volume novel, and passed on to
Ghazni, where the army of Dost Mahomed Khan was then encamped, and
with which he took up his quarters. Here he was well received, and he
interviewed the great Afghan Chief (who settled his quarrel with his
brothers from Kandahar without fighting), and thus records his opinion
of a remarkable personage in history: "Dost Mahomed Khan has
distinguished himself on various occasions by acts of personal
intrepidity ... has proved himself an able Commander, equally well
skilled in stratagem and polity, and only employs the sword when other
means fail. He is remarkably plain in attire.... I should not have
conjectured him a man of ability either from his conversation or his
appearance"; but "a stranger must be cautious in estimating the
character of a Durani from his appearance," which caution he also
found it necessary to exercise in the case of Dost Mahomed's corpulent
brother, Mahomed Khan, the Governor of Ghazni. From Ghazni, Masson
continued his journey to Kandahar, still trudging the weary road on
foot in the doubtful company of casual Pathan wayfarers; and he
accepts the savage treatment which he experienced at the hands of
certain Lohanis near Ghazni as all in the day's work, never
complaining of his want of luck so long as he got off with his life,
and always ready to accept the chances of the most unsafe road rather
than remain inactive. At Kandahar he again set himself to acquire a
store of useful political information, though with what object it is
difficult to say. He certainly did not mean it for the Indian
Government, for he regrets later on in his career that he ever gave
any of it away, and as a record of almost unintelligible Afghan
intrigue it could hardly have interested his own. He was a wide
observer, however, and must have been the possessor of a most
remarkable memory. He was indeed a whole intelligence department in
himself. After some weird and gruesome experiences in Kandahar (where,
however, he was personally made welcome) he left for Shikarpur by the
Quetta and Bolan route, and it was on this journey that he nearly lost
his life. He committed the error of allowing the caravan with which he
was to travel to precede him, trusting to his being able to catch it
up _en route_. He fell amongst the Achakzai thieves of those ugly
plains, and being everywhere known and recognised as a Feringhi, he
passed a very rough time with them. They stripped him of his clothing
after beating him and robbing him of his money, and left him
"destitute, a stranger in the centre of Asia, unacquainted with the
language--which would have been useful to me--and from my colour
exposed on all occasions to notice, inquiry, ridicule, and insult."
However, "it was some consolation to find the khafila was not far
off," and eventually he joined it; but he nearly died of cold and
exposure, and it took him years to recover from the rheumatism set up
by crouching naked over the embers of the fire at night.

There are several points about this remarkable journey which might
lead one to suspect that romance was not altogether a stranger to it,
were it not that the route itself is described with surprising
accuracy. It has only lately been possible to verify step by step the
road described by Masson. He could hardly have carried about volumes
of notes with him under such conditions as his story depicts, and it
might very well have happened that he dislocated his topography or his
ethnography from lapse of memory. But he does neither; and the most
amazing feature of Masson's tales of travel is that in all essential
features we knew little more about the country of the Afghans after
the last war with Afghanistan than he could have told us before the
first. Shall (or Quetta as we know it now) is described as a town of
about 300 houses, surrounded by a slight crenelated wall. The "huge
mound" (now the fort) is noted as supporting a ruinous citadel, the
residence of the Governor. Fruit was plentiful then, and he adds that
"Shall is proverbially celebrated for the excellence of its lambs." By
the desolate plain of Dasht-i-bedoulat and the Bolan Pass, Masson trod
the well-known route to Dadar and Shikarpur. He lived a strange life
in those days. No one since his time has rubbed shoulders with Afghan
and Baluch, intimately associating himself with all their simple and
savage ways; reckoning every man he met on the road as a robber till
he proved a friend; absolutely penniless, yet still meeting with rough
hospitality and real kindness now and then, and ever absorbing with a
most marvellous power of digestion all that was useful in the way of
information, whether it concerned the red-hot sand-strewn plains, or
the vermin-covered thieves and outcasts that disgraced them. It was
quite as often with the lowest of the gang as with the leaders that he
found himself most intimately associated.

In those days Sind was a country as unknown to us geographically as
Afghanistan. The Indus and its capacity for navigation was a matter of
supreme interest, but the deserts of Sind were eyed askance, and
across those deserts came little call for exploration. The government
of the country under the Sind Amirs was decrepit and loose, leaving
district municipalities to look after themselves, and promoting no
general scheme for the public good. Shikarpur had been a great centre
of trade under the Duranis, and its financial credit extended far into
Central Asia. But in Masson's time much of that credit had disappeared
with the capitalists who supported it--chiefly Hindu bankers--who
migrated to the cities of Multan and Amritsar as the Sikh power in the
Punjab became a more and more powerful factor in frontier politics.
Whether Masson is correct in his estimate of the mischief done by the
reckless supply of funds from Shikarpur to the restless nobles of
Afghanistan, who were thus enabled to set on foot raids and inroads
into each other's territories, is, I think, doubtful. The want of
money never stayed an Afghan raid--on the contrary it is more apt to
instigate it. From Shikarpur he bent his steps towards the Punjab. No
modern traveller, racing down the Indus valley by a north-western
train, can well appreciate the amount of human interest and activity
which lies hidden beyond the wide flat plains of tamarisk jungle that
stretch between him and the frontier hills. This same Indus valley was
Arabic India for centuries, and there were Greek settlements centuries
earlier than the Arabs; none of this escaped Masson.

The vicissitudes of this weary walk were many. Masson was put to
curious expedients in order to keep himself even decently clothed.
From under one hospitable roof he stole out in the evening, when the
ragged retinue of his host were all in a state of stupefaction from
drink, in order to be spared their too familiar adieux. It is a
remarkable fact that he found himself able to pass muster as a Mongol
on his journey, there being a tradition in Sind that some Mongols were
as fair as Englishmen. From Rohri on the Indus he made his way almost
exactly along the line of the present railway, through Bhawalpur to
Uch, continually losing his way in the narrow tracks that intersected
the intricate jungle, with but a rupee or two in his pocket, and
nothing but the saving grace of the village masjid as a refuge for the
night. His experiences with wayfarers like himself, the lies that he
heard (and I am afraid also told), the hospitality which he received
both from men and women, and the variety of incident generally which
adorns this part of Masson's tale is a refreshing contrast to the
dreary monotony of the modern traveller's tale of Indian travel, the
bare record of a dusty railway experience, with here and there a new
impression of old and worn-out themes. He was impressed with the
"contented, orderly, and hospitable" character of the people of
Northern Sind, whose condition was "very respectable" notwithstanding
an oppressive government. Saiads and fakirs, pirs and spiritual guides
of all sorts were an abomination to him, but it is somewhat new to
hear of Saiads that "they may commit any crime with impunity." At
Fazilpur (in Bhawalpur) he found an old friend, one Rahmat Khan, and
was once again in the lap of native luxury. Clean clothes, a bed to
lie on, and good food, kept him idle for a month ere he started again
northward for Lahore. Rahmat Khan was almost too generous. He spent
his last rupee recklessly on a nautch, and had to borrow from the
Hindus of his bazaar in order to find two rupees to present to his
guest for the cost of his journey to Lahore. Of this large sum it is
interesting to note that Masson had still eight annas left in his
pocket on his arrival at that city. Alas for the good old days! What a
modern tramp might achieve in India if he were allowed free play it is
difficult to guess, but never again will any European travel 360 miles
in India and feed himself for two months on a rupee and a half.

Masson notes the extraordinary extent of ancient ruins around Uch,
and correctly infers the importance of that city in the days of Arab
ascendency. He has much to say that is still interesting about Multan
and its surroundings. It must have been new to historians to hear that
the heat of Multan is due to the maledictions of the Saint Shams
Tabieri, who was flayed alive by the progenitors of the people who now
venerate his shrine. Multan was in the hands of the Sikhs when Masson
was there. From Multan Masson ceased to follow the modern line of
railway, and adopted a route north of the Ravi River until near the
city, when he recrossed to the southern bank. Lost in admiration of
the luxuriance of the cultivation of this part of the Punjab, and full
of the interest aroused by the fact that he was on classical ground,
the ground of ancient history, he wandered into Lahore. Lahore and the
Sikh administration, the character of Ranjit Singh and his policy
towards British and Afghan neighbours, are all part of Indian history,
but it is interesting to recall the prominence of French and Italians
in the Punjab 100 years ago. General Allard was encountered quite
accidentally by Masson, who was at once recognized as a European, and
found himself able to talk French fluently. This naturally led to his
entertainment by the General at his own splendid establishments. The
beautiful tomb of Jehangir, the Shahdera, was occupied as a residence
by the French general, Amise, who died, so they said, in expiation of
his impiety in cleaning it up and making it tidy--which was probably
very necessary. The tomb of Anarkalli, south of the city, was used as
a harem by M. Ventura, the Italian general, whilst the well-known
Avitabile lived in a house decorated after the fashion of Neapolitan
art in cantonments to the east of the city. The lovely gardens of
Shalimar had already been robbed of much of their beauty by the
transfer of marble and stone from their pavilions for the building of
Amritsar, the new religious capital of the Sikhs. Lahore is "a dull
city in the commercial sense," says Masson, and Amritsar "has become
the great mart of the Punjab." We need not follow Masson's
explorations in the Punjab and Sind, further than to relate that he
finally left Lahore during the rainy season (he was riding now, and in
fairly easy circumstances) and made his way south again _via_ Multan,
Haidarabad, and Tatta, to Karachi. There is a lamentable want of dates
about this narrative, and it is almost impossible to fix the month, or
even the year, in which Masson visited any particular part of the
frontier.

His next exploits and explorations conducted from Karachi are
sufficiently remarkable in themselves to place Masson quite at the
head of the list of frontier explorers. He stands, indeed, in the same
relation to the Indian borderland as Livingstone does to Africa. He
first made a sea trip in Arab crafts up the Persian Gulf, visiting
Muskat and obtaining a passage in a cruiser of the H.E.I. Company to
Bushire. This we know from Major David Wilson's report to have been in
1830. It was then that he gave up the record of his previous travels,
to which we have referred, and which he subsequently thought he had
reason to regret. A month or two was passed at Tabriz, and a trip up
the Tigris to Bagdad and Basrah. From Basrah he returned in a merchant
vessel to Muskat, and finally made Karachi again in an Arab bagala. At
Karachi he was not permitted to land, owing (as he suspected) to
another party of Englishmen who were then attempting to explore the
Indus. This turned out to be Captain Burnes' (afterwards Sir Alex.
Burnes) party. The objection was based on a somewhat ridiculous notion
of the capacity of the English to carry about regiments of soldiers
concealed in _boxes_, and Masson subsequently learned that having no
boxes with him, the opposition in his case had been withdrawn by the
Amirs of Sind as tantamount to a breach of hospitality. However, for
the time he was forced to return to Urmara on the Makran coast, from
which place he hoped to reach Kalat. In this he was disappointed, but
he found his way back to Sonmiani in an Arab dunghi (or bagala),
which, with the monsoon wind at her back, was run in gallant style
straight over the shallow bar into the harbour with hardly a foot of
water below her. The practice of medicine was what sustained Masson at
this period, but his reputation was slightly impaired by a crude
prescription of sea water. A lady, too, who suffered from a
disposition of her face to break out into white blotches, and who
appealed for a remedy, was told that she would look much better all
white. This again led to a lively controversy; but on the whole the
practice of medicine was as useful to Masson as it has proved through
all ages to explorers in all regions of the world.

The story of Masson's next journey through Las Bela and Eastern
Baluchistan to Kalat and the neighbourhood of Quetta, must have been
an almost unintelligible record for half a century after it was
written. It is almost useless to repeat the names of the places he
visited. Five-and-twenty years ago these names were absolutely
unfamiliar, an empty sound signifying nothing to the dwellers on the
British side of the Baluch frontier. Gradually they have emerged from
the regions of the vague unknown into the ordered series of completed
maps; and nothing testifies more surely to the general accuracy of
Masson's narrative than the possibility which now exists of tracing
his steps from point to point through these wild and desolate regions
of rocky ridge and salt-edged jungle in Eastern Baluchistan. It is
certainly significant that in the year 1830 more should have been
known of the regions that lie between Karachi and Quetta or Kandahar,
than was known fifty years later when plans were elaborated for
bringing Quetta into railway communication with India.

Had Masson's information been properly digested, the most direct route
to Kalat, Quetta, or Kandahar, _via_ the Purali River, would surely
have been weighed in administrative councils, and the advantage of
direct communication with the seaport by a cheaply constructed line
would have received due consideration. But Masson's work was still
unproven and unchecked, and it would have been more than any
Englishman's life was worth to have attempted in 1880 the task which
he undertook with such light-hearted energy. His observations of the
country he passed through, and the complicated tribal distribution
which distinguishes it are necessarily superficial, but they are
shrewd. It was clearly impossible for him to attempt any form of
survey, and without some map evidence of the scene of his wanderings
his explorations were deprived at the time of their chief
significance. From Las Bela to Kalat he appears to have encountered no
more dangerous adventure than might befall any Baluch traveller in the
same regions. From Kalat he wandered at leisure northward till he
overlooked the Dasht-i-bedaulat from the heights of Chahiltan. This
well-known Quetta peak has probably often been ascended by Englishmen
in late years, and the misty legend which is wreathed around it is
familiar to every regimental mess in the Quetta garrison. It is
perhaps a little disappointing to remember that the first white man
who achieved its ascent and told the story of the forty heaven-sent
infants who gambol about its summit to the eternal glory of the
sainted Hazart Ghaos (the patron saint of Baluch children), was an
American. Masson's interesting record of Chahiltan botany, however,
would be more useful if he translated the native names into botanical
language.

From Quetta he returned to Kalat, and, determined to see as much of
the borderland as possible, he made his return journey from Kalat to
Sonmiani _via_ the Mulla Pass. The pass is still an interesting
feature in Baluch geography. It was once the popular route from the
plains to the highlands, when trade was more frequent between Kalat
and Hindustan, and may serve a useful purpose again. Very few even of
frontier officials know anything of it. Masson gives a capital
description of the Mulla route, "easy and safe, and may be travelled
at all seasons." From Jhal he went south through Sind to Sehwan, the
antiquity of which place gives him room for much speculation; but from
Sehwan to Sonmiani his route is not so clear. He started backwards on
his tracks from Sehwan, then struck southward through lower Sind,
passing on his way many ancient sites (locally known as "got," _i.e._
kot, or fort), the origin of which he was apparently unable to
determine, but halting at no place with a name that is still
prominent, unless the modern Pokran represents his Pokar. I am not
aware whether the "gots" described by Masson in lower Sind have as yet
been scientifically examined, but his description of them tallies
with that of similar ruins lately found near Las Bela (especially as
regards the stone-built circle), which, occurring as they do in Makran
and the valley of the Purali (the ancient Arabis), are possibly relics
of the building races of Arabs (Sab[oe]an or Himyaritic) who occupied
these districts in early ages before they became withered and
waterless with the gradual alteration of their geographical
conditions. Other constructions, such as the cylindrical heaps on the
hills, are more certainly Buddhist. Masson was unaware that he was
traversing a province which figured as Bodh in Arab chronicles, and is
full of the traces of Buddhist occupation. Makran, Las Bela, and the
Sind borderland still offer a mine of wealth for archaeological
research. The last two or three days' march was in company with a
Bulfut (Lumri) camel-man, whose mount was shared by Masson. As the
Lumri sowar was in the habit not only of taking opium himself but of
giving it to his camel, the morning's ride was sometimes perilously
lively.

One would have thought that after so extensive an exploration, filled,
as it was, with daily risk from the hostility of fanatics, or the more
common (in those days) assaults of robbers, Masson would have had
enough of adventure to last him some years. It was not so. He appears
to have been an irreclaimable nomadic vagabond, and his only thought,
now that he had reached the West, was to be off again to Afghanistan.
Kalat again was his first objective, and to reach that place he
followed very much the same route as before. From Kalat, however, to
Kandahar and Kabul, he opened up a new line which is worth
description. There is little to record as far as Kalat. Once again he
joined a mixed Afghan khafila returning from India, and followed the
route which leads through Las Bela, Wad, and Khozdar. It was spring,
and the country was bright with flowers, the narrow little valleys
being full of the brilliance of upspringing crops. It is a mistake to
regard Baluchistan as a waste corner of Asia, the dumping ground of
the rubbish left over from the world's creation. Much of it,
doubtless, is inexpressibly dreary, and in certain dry and sun-baked
plains scarred with leprous streaks of salt eruption, it is
occasionally difficult to realize the beauty of the spring and summer
time in valleys where water is still fairly abundant, and the green
things of the earth seem mostly to congregate. A bed of scarlet
tulips, or the yellow sheen of the flowering shrub which spreads
across the plain of Wad would make any landscape gay, and the long
jagged lines of purple hills with chequered shadows patching their
rugged spurs would be a fascinating background to any picture. "Only
man is vile,"--but this is not true either.

The character of the mixed inhabitants of these valleys of Eastern
Baluchistan (we have no room for ethnological disquisitions) is as
rugged as their hills, and as varied with patches of brightness as
their plains. Masson knew them as no one knows them now, and he
evidently loved them. His life was never safe from day to day, but
that did not prevent much good comradeship, some genuine friendship,
and a shrewd appreciation of the straight uprightness of those who,
like the patriarchs and prophets of old, seemed to be the righteous
few who leaven the whole lump. Masson was not a missionary, he was
only a well-educated and most observant vagabond, but what he has to
say of Baluch (or Brahui) character is just what Sandeman said half a
century later, and what Barnes or MacMahon[11] would say to-day.

What Masson never seemed to appreciate (any more than the Arab traders
who trod the same roads in mediaeval centuries) was the change of
altitude that accrued after long travelling over apparently flat
roads. The natural change in the character of vegetation with the
increase of altitude appears, therefore, to surprise him. He reached
Kalat without much incident. Here he parted with the Peshin Saiads and
the Brahuis of the caravan, and proceeded with the Afghan contingent
to Kandahar. The direct road from Kalat to Kandahar runs through the
Mangachar valley and thence crosses the Khwaja Amran, or Kojak range,
by the Kotal-i-bed into Shorawak, and runs northward to Kandahar
through the eastern part of the Registan, without touching the main
road from Quetta till within a march or two of Kandahar itself. It is
worth noting that there was no want of water on this route, and no
great difficulties were experienced in passing through the hills.
Irrigation canals and the intricacies of natural ravines in Shorawak
seem to have been the chief obstacles. It is a route which was never
made use of during the last Afghan war, nor, so far as I can discover,
during the previous one. The Achakzai tribespeople (some of whom were
with the khafila returning to their country from Bombay) behaved with
remarkable modesty and good faith, and altogether belied their natural
characteristics of truculence and treachery. The journey was made on
camel-back in a kajawa, a method of travelling which ensures a good
overlook of the proceedings of the khafila and the country traversed
by it, but which can have few other recommendations. Kandahar,
however, was not Masson's objective on this trip. Afghanistan was in
its usual state of distracted politics, and Kabul was the centre of
distraction. To Kabul, therefore, Masson felt himself impelled; like
the stormy petrel he preferred a troubled horizon and plenty of
incident to the calmer seas of oriental existence in the flat plains
of Kandahar. His journey with an Afghan khafila by the well-trodden
road which leads to Ghazni was quite sufficiently full of incident,
and the extraordinary rapacity of the Ghilzai tribes, who occupy the
road as far as that city, leaves one astonished that enough was left
of the khafila for useful business purposes in Kabul. Masson was
impressed with the desolation and degradation of Ghazni. He can hardly
believe that this waste wilderness of mounds around an insignificant
town, with its two dreary sentinel minars standing out on the plain,
and a dilapidated tomb where rests all that is left of the great
conqueror Mahmud, can be the city of such former magnificence as is
described in Afghan history. Every traveller to Ghazni has been
touched with the same feeling of incredulity, but it only testifies to
the remarkable power possessed by the destroying hordes of Chenghiz
Khan and his successors of making a clean sweep of the cities which
fell into their hands.

A few days before Masson's arrival in Kabul (this is one of the rare
dates which we find recorded in his story) in June 1832, three
Englishmen had visited the city. These were Lieutenant Burnes, Dr.
Gerard, and the Rev. Joseph Wolff. He does not appear to have actually
met them. Mr. Wolff had been fortunate enough to distinguish himself
as a prophet, and had acquired considerable reputation. An earthquake
preceding certain local disturbances between the Sunis and the Shiahs,
which he foretold, had established his position, and imitators had
begun to arise amongst the people. No better account of the city of
Kabul, the beauty of its surroundings, its fruit and its trade, and
the social customs of its people, is to be found than that of Masson.
What he observed of the city and suburbs in 1832 might almost have
been written of the Kabul of fifty years later; but the last
twenty-five years have introduced many radical changes, and good roads
for wheeled vehicles (not to mention motors) and a small local railway
have done more even than the stucco palaces and fantastic halls of the
late Amir Abdurrahmon to change the character of the place. The
curious spirit of tolerance and liberality which still pervades Kabul
and distinguishes it from other Afghan towns, which makes the life of
an individual European far more secure there than it would be in
Kandahar, the absence of Ghazidom and fanaticism, was even more marked
then than it is now. Armenian Christians were treated with more than
toleration, they intermarried with Mahomedans; the fact that Masson
was known to be a Feringhi never interfered with the spirit of
hospitality with which he was received and treated. Only on one
occasion was he insulted in the streets, and that was when he wore a
Persian cap instead of the usual lunghi. But the Jews were as much
anathema as they are now, and Masson tells a curious tale of one Jew
who was stoned to death by Mahomedans for denying the divinity of
Jesus Christ, after the Christian community of Armenians had declined
to carry out the punishment. To this day nothing arouses Afghan hatred
like the cry of Yahudi (Jew), and it may very possibly be partly due
to their firm conviction in their origin as Ben-i-Israel.

The summer of 1832 at Kabul must have been a delightful experience,
but with the coming autumn the restlessness of the nomad again seized
on Masson and he made that journey to Bamian in company with an Afghan
friend, one Haji Khan, chief of Bamian, which followed the mission of
Burnes to Kunduz, and proved the possibilities of the route to Afghan
Turkestan by the southern passes of the Hindu Kush. Bamian was then
separated from Kabul by the width of the Besud territory, which was
practically controlled by a semi-independent Hazara chief,
Yezdambaksh. Beyond Bamian the pass of Ak Robat defined the northern
frontier of Afghanistan, beyond which again were more semi-independent
chiefs, of whom by far the most powerful, south of the Oxus, was Mir
Murad Beg of Kunduz. Amongst them all political intrigue was in a
state of boiling effervescence. Haji Khan (a Kakar soldier of fortune)
from Western Afghanistan knew himself to be unpopular with the Amir
Dost Mahomed Khan, and had shrewd suspicions that spite of a
long-tried friendship, he was regarded as a dangerous factor in Kabul
politics. Yezdambaksh, influenced doubtless by his gallant wife, who
rode and fought by his side and was ever at his elbow in council,
trimmed his course to patch up a temporary alliance with Haji Khan
under the pretext of suffocating the ambition of the local chief of
Saighan; whilst Murad Beg about that time was strong enough to
preserve his own position unassisted and aloof. Into the seething
welter of intrigue arising from the conflicting interests of these
many candidates for distinction in the Afghan border field Masson
plunged when he accepted Haji Khan's invitation to join him at Bamian.
Across the lovely plain of Chardeh, bright with the orange blossoms of
the safflower, Masson followed the well-known route to Argandi and
over the Safed Khak Pass to the foot of the divide which is crossed by
the Unai (called Honai by Masson), meeting with the usual demands for
"karij," or duty, from the Hazaras at their border, with the usual
altercations and violence on both sides. Well known as is this route,
it may be doubted whether any better description of it has ever been
written than that of Masson. Instead of striking straight across the
Helmund at Gardandiwal by the direct route to Bamian, the party
followed the course of the Helmund, then fringed with rose bushes and
willows, passing through a delightfully picturesque country till they
fell in with the Afghan camp, after much wandering in unknown parts on
the banks of the Helmund, at a point which it is difficult to
identify.

The story of the daily progress of the oriental military camp, and the
daily discussions with Haji Khan, who appeared to be as frank and
childlike in his disclosures of his methods as any chattering booby,
is excellent. There is no doubt that Masson at this time exercised
very considerable influence over his Afghan and Hazara acquaintances,
and he is probably justified in his claim to have prevented more than
one serious row over the everlasting demands for karij. It is to be
noted that two guns were dragged along with this expedition by forced
Hazara labour, eighty men being required for one, and two hundred for
the other, assisted by an elephant. The calibre of the guns is not
mentioned. At a place called Shaitana they were still south of the
Helmund, and in the course of their progress through Besud visited the
sources of the Logar. Near these sources is the Azdha of Besud, the
petrified dragon slain by Hazrat Ali (not to be confused with Azdha of
Bamian), a volcanic formation stretching its white length through
about 170 yards, exhaling sulphurous odours. The red rock found about
its head is supposed to be tinged with blood. The Azdha afterwards
seen and described at Bamian is of "more imposing size."

Another long march (apparently on the road to Ghazni) brought the
expedition to the frontier of Besud, at a point reckoned by Masson as
three marches from the Ghazni district. From here they retraced their
steps and crossed the Helmund at Ghoweh Kol (? Pai Kol), making for
Bamian. This closed the Besud expedition, which, regarded as a
geographical exploration, is still authoritative, no complete survey
of that district having ever been made. From the Helmund they reached
Bamian by the Siah Reg Pass, thus proving the possibility of
traversing that district by comparatively unknown routes which were
"not on the whole difficult to cavalry, though impracticable to
wheeled carriages." The guns were left in Besud, to be dragged through
by Hazaras. It must be remembered that this was early winter, and the
frozen snow rendered the passes slippery and difficult. The aspect of
the Koh-i-Baba (? Babar) mountains, and their "craggy pinnacles"
(which, by reason of their similarity of outline, gave much trouble to
our surveyors in 1882-83) seems to have impressed Masson greatly. The
descent into the Bamian valley was "perfectly easy, and the road
excellent throughout." Masson's contributions to the Asiatic Society
on the subject of Bamian and its "idols" are well known. His
observations were acute, and on the whole accurate. He rightly
conjectured these wonderful relics to be Buddhist, although he never
grasped the full extent of Buddhist influence, nor the extraordinary
width of their occupation in Northern Afghanistan. His conjectures and
impressions need not be repeated, but his somewhat crude sketches of
Bamian and the citadel of Gulgula intensify the regret which I always
feel that a thoroughly competent photographer was not attached to the
long subsequent Russo-Afghan Boundary Commission.

Masson's wanderings in the company of the Afghan chief Haji Khan and
his redoubtable army through the valleys and over the passes of the
Hindu Kush and its western spurs is full of interest to the military
reader. The Afghan force consisted largely of cavalry, as did that of
the gallant Hazara chief, Yezdambaksh. Nothing is said about infantry,
but it was probably little better than a badly armed mob chiefly
concerned in guarding the guns which reached the valley of Bamian,
but, as already stated, they could not follow the cavalry over the
Siah Reg Pass from Besud. They were sent round by the "Karza" Pass,
which is probably the one known as Kafza on our maps, which indicates
the most direct route from Kabul to Bamian.

It is necessary to follow the ostensible policy of these military
movements in order to render Masson's account of them intelligible.
Haji Khan was acting in concert with Yezdambaksh and his Hazara
troops, with the presumed object of crushing first Mahomed Ali, the
chief of Saighan (north of Bamian), and ultimately repeating the
process on Rahmatulla Khan, the chief of Kamard (north of Saighan). In
order to effect this he had to pass up the Bamian valley to its
northern head, marked by the Ak Robat Pass (10,200 feet high), and
thence descend into the Saighan valley by the route formed by one of
its southern tributaries. It was early winter (or late autumn), but
still the passes seemed to have been more or less free from snow, and
the Ak Robat Pass in particular appears to have given little trouble,
although the valley contracts almost to a gorge in the descent.
Masson noted evidences of the former existence of a considerable town
near this route on the descent from Ak Robat. Much to his
astonishment, instead of smashing the Saighan opposition with his
superior force, Haji Khan proceeded to patch up an alliance with
Mahomed Ali, which was cemented by his marrying one of the daughters
of that wily chief. Here, however, he experienced a cruel
disappointment. Instead of the lovely bride whom he had been led to
expect, he received a squat and snub-nosed Hazara girl, who was,
indeed, of very doubtful parentage. This little swindle, however, was
not permitted to interfere with his politics. The alliance ought to
have aroused the suspicion of Yezdambaksh, but the latter seems to
have trusted to the strength of his following to meet any possible
contingency.

The next step was to proceed to Kamard and repeat the process of
occupation. Here, however, an unexpected difficulty arose. The
easy-going, hard-drinking Tajik chief of Kamard was far too wily to
put himself into Haji Khan's power, and with some of the Uzbek chiefs
who owed their allegiance to that fine old border bandit Murad Khan of
Kunduz (of whom we shall hear again), positively declined to permit
Haji Khan to come farther. Meanwhile, however, a force had advanced
over the divide between Saighan and Kamard by a pass which Masson
calls the Nalpach (or horseshoe-breaking pass), which can hardly be
the same as the well-known Dandan Shikan (or tooth-breaking pass),
but is probably to the east of it, leading more directly to Bajgah.
Before ascending the pass, Masson noted the remains of an ancient town
or fort built of immense stones, and here they halted. Here also snow
fell. Next day a reconnaissance in force was made over the Nalpach
Pass ("long, but not difficult"), and apparently part of the force
descended into Kamard and commenced hostile operations against the
Kamard chieftain. Haji Khan, however, returned to camp. He had now
succeeded in breaking up the Hazara force which was with him into two
or three detached bodies, so the opportunity was ripe for one of the
blackest acts of treachery that ever disgraced Afghan history--which
is saying a good deal. He entrapped and seized the fine old Hazara
chief, Yezdambaksh, and, after dragging him about with him under
circumstances of great indignity, he finally executed him. The Hazara
troops seem to have scattered without striking a concerted blow; their
camp was looted, whilst such wretched refugees as were caught were
stripped and enslaved.

The savage barbarity of these proceedings, especially of the method of
the execution of Yezdambaksh (a rope being looped round the wretched
victim's neck, the two ends of which were hauled tight by a mixed
company of relatives and enemies), disgusted Masson deeply, and there
is a very obvious disposition evinced hereafter to part company with
his treacherous host, although he makes some attempt to excuse these
proceedings by pointing out that Haji Khan, after meeting with an
unexpected rebuff from Kamard (which he dare not resent so long as the
redoubtable Murad Beg loomed in the distance as the protector of the
frontier chiefs of Badakshan), would have been unable to keep and feed
his troops in the winter without scattering the Hazara contingent and
possessing himself of the resources of Besud.

Winter had already set in, and the subsequent story is instructive in
illustration of the difficulties which beset the road between Kabul
and Bamian during the winter season. The resources of Bamian were
insufficient even for his diminished force (now reduced to about its
original strength of eight hundred), and the Ghulam Khana contingent
grew restive and impatient, demanding to go back to Kabul. The passes,
however, were not only closed by snow, but the position at Karzar was
held by Hazaras, who, however much they were demoralised by the
execution of their chief, might well be expected to make reprisals.
The Ghulam Khana men, about two hundred and twenty strong, therefore
moved in force from Bamian, with the hope of being able to influence
the Hazaras to let them pass through Besud. Apparently they did not
rank as true Afghans. No great resistance was made at Karzar, although
they were not admitted to shelter. They were freely looted, and
eventually allowed to pass after three days' detention, exposed to
the terrific blasts of a winter shamal (north-west wind) in snow which
was then breast high. Many of them perished before reaching Kabul, and
many more were permanently disabled from frostbites.

Haji Khan, meanwhile, settled down as the uninvited guest of the
people of Bamian, and ensconced himself and his wives in the fort of
Saidabad, a strongly built construction of burnt bricks of immense
size, which Masson believed to have been built by the Arabs. Saidabad
is hard by the detached position of Gulgula; it is described by Masson
in considerable detail. Here, at an altitude of about 8500 feet, a
winter in Bamian is endurable, and Haji Khan avowed his intention of
remaining. It is interesting to note that a khafila from Bokhara for
Kabul arrived about this time, and was duly looted. Even in winter the
route (as a commercial route) was open.

Masson's efforts were now directed towards getting back to Kabul. His
first essay was in company of two brothers of Haji Khan, who vowed to
get to Kabul somehow, even if, as Afghans, they had to fight their way
through Besud. The party followed up the Topchi valley from Bamian,
and crossing by the Shutar Gardan Pass, they reached Karzar. Here
again Masson noted extensive ruins _en route_. The road was bad and
the difficulties great, "leading over precipices," but they did,
nevertheless, succeed in crossing the main divide. Here Masson
experienced a very bad time, and to his disgust found that he must
retrace his steps to Bamian, owing to counter orders from Haji Khan
recalling the escort. There appeared, however, a prospect of getting
out of Bamian by the Shibar Pass (an easy pass), leading to the head
of the Ghorband valley; and trusting to certain arrangements made by a
Paghmani chief, Masson made a fresh attempt, passing eastward the
ancient remains of Zohak, and ascending by a fairly easy open track to
the valley or plain of Irak. Probably this pass is the one known as
Khashka in our maps. The wind was terrific, but the comparative
freedom from snow was an unexpected advantage.

Passing eastwards from Irak (still on the northern slopes of the Hindu
Kush) the party made comparatively easy progress by a valley which
Masson calls Bubulak (where he observed tobacco to be growing). They
gradually ascended until once again they found themselves in snow, but
instead of making direct for the Shibar they inclined to a more
northerly pass called Bitchilik, which is separated from the Shibar by
a slight kotal (or divide). Here they found the Paghmani chief whom
they expected to join, but they found also that the section of Hazaras
who held these passes then were determined to bar their passage. Once
again Masson had to abandon the attempt (albeit the Shibar route to
Kabul would have been a very devious and dangerous one), and returned
to Bamian.

There are one or two circumstances about this exploration of the
western Hindu Kush passes which deserve attention. For once Masson is
slightly inaccurate in his geography when he states that the Irak
stream drains into the Bamian valley. It joins the Bamian River after
it has left the valley and turned northward. So slight an error is
only a useful proof of his general accuracy. Another remarkable fact
was that he, a Feringhi, was elected by the Afghan gang with which he
was temporarily associated as their Khan, or chief! He was a little
better dressed than most of them in European chintzes. He found
himself utterly unable to restrain their looting propensities, but he
made himself quite popular by his civility and his small presents to
the wretched Hazaras on whom they were quartered. Incidentally he
gives us a most valuable impression of the nature of an important
group of Afghan passes, and I doubt if his information has ever been
much improved upon.

Finally, the surrender of the Karzar position by the Hazaras reopened
the road to Kabul, and Masson was enabled to reach that capital by the
Topchi, Shutar Gardan, Kalu, Hajigak routes to Gardandiwal on the
Helmund. The Hajigak route he describes as easy of ascent, but "steep
and very troublesome" in the south. The Shutar Gardan (called
Panjpilan now) was "intricate and dangerous," but the passing of it
was done at night. This is, and always has been, the main khafila
route between Kabul, Bamian, and Bokhara. The journey from the Helmund
across the Unai (which pass was itself "difficult") was not
accomplished without great distress. A winter shumal caught Masson on
the road, and but for the timely shelter at Zaimuni would have
terminated his career there and then. Masson describes the terrific
effect of the wind with great vigour, but those who have experienced
it will not accuse him of exaggeration.

FOOTNOTES:

[10] _Selections from Travels and Journals preserved in the Bombay
Secretariat_, Forrest, 1908.

[11] Now Sir Hugh Barnes and Sir Henry MacMahon, one a past, and the
other the present, Agent for the Governor-General in Baluchistan.




CHAPTER XI

AMERICAN EXPLORATION--MASSON (_continued_)


On Masson's return to Kabul he observed the first symptoms of active
interest in Afghan politics on the part of the Indian Government, in
the person of an accredited native agent (Saiad Karamat Ali) who had
travelled with Lieut. Conolly to Herat. Colonel Stoddart was at that
time detained in Bokhara, and was apparently under the impression that
he was befriended by a "profligate adventurer," one Samad Khan, who
had succeeded in establishing himself there as a pillar of the State
after imposing on so astute a politician as the Amir Dost Mahomed Khan
and on many of the leading Afghan Sirdars. Masson seems to have been
better aware of the character of this Khan than the Indian Government,
for he notes that "to be befriended by such a man is in itself
calamitous."

It is quite comprehensible that the Indian Government should not duly
appreciate the position of an adventurer like Masson and his intimate
acquaintance with Afghanistan and its riotous rulers; but it was
unfortunate; for it is not too much to say that Indian Government
officials at that time were but amateurs in their knowledge of Afghan
politics compared to Masson; and much of the horrors of subsequent
events might have been avoided could Masson have been admitted freely
and fully to their counsels. However, for a time he employed himself
in collecting historical and scientific notes on Afghanistan, which we
still regard as standard works for reference. No one has succeeded
better in giving us an impression of the leading characteristics of
the Afghan chiefs of his time, and probably there is not much
improvement effected by a century of moral development. Steeped up to
the eyes in treachery towards each other, debauchees, drunkards,
liars, and murderers, one cannot but admire their extraordinary
virility. It was truly a case of the survival of the fittest, and the
fittest were certainly remarkable men.

The Amir Dost Mahomed Khan was one of the worst, and one of the best.
One of the twenty-two sons of Sirafraz Khan, he worked his way upwards
by truly Afghan methods; methods which in the early days of his career
were utterly detestable, but which attained some sort of reflected
dignity later, when there were not wanting signs that in a different
environment he might have been truly great. He was illiterate and
uneducated, but appreciated the advantages of elementary schooling in
others. Into the strange welter of political intrigue which forms
Afghan history during the period of his rise to power we need not
enter; but it is necessary to note the extraordinary difference with
which the stranger in the land, a Feringhi, was regarded throughout
Afghanistan, then, as compared with his reception at present. It is
even possible that the life of a Feringhi was then safer (_i.e._
deemed of more importance) than that of any ordinary Afghan chief. It
is certain that there was a strong feeling that it was well to be on
good terms with the representatives of a powerful neighbouring state.
This feeling was greatly weakened by the results of the first Afghan
war, and has never again been completely restored.

Although we are only dealing with Masson as an explorer, it is
impossible not to express sympathy with his whole-hearted admiration
for the country of the Afghan. His description of the beauties of the
land, especially in early spring with the awakening of the season of
flowers, the irresistible charm of the mountain scenery of the
Kohistan as the gradual burst of summer bloom crept upwards over the
hills--all this finds an echo in the heart of every one who has ever
seen this "God granted" land; where, after all, the seething scum of
Afghan politics is very much confined to a class, although it
undoubtedly sinks deeper and reaches the mass of the people with more
of the force of self-interest than is the case in India, where the
historical pageant of kings and dynasties has passed over the great
mass of India's self-absorbed people and left them profoundly
unconscious of its progress.

In the year 1833 Masson resumed his researches in the neighbourhood of
Kabul, commencing in the plains about 25 miles north-east from Kabul,
and 8 or 10 from Charikar. These researches were continued for some
years, until the failure of the mission to Kabul in 1838 obliged him
to leave the country; and in his proposal to resume them again in 1840
he was opposed by "a miserable fraction of the Calcutta clique," who
had recourse to "acts as unprecedented, base, and illegal as perhaps
were ever perpetrated under the sanction of authority against a
subject of the British Crown." So that apparently he claimed British
nationality before he left Afghanistan. However that may be, it is
certain that no subsequent explorer has added much that is of value to
the extraordinary evidences of ancient occupation collected by Masson.
Here, he maintains, once existed the city of Alexandria founded by
Alexander on the Kabul plain; and a recent announcement from Kabul
that the site of an ancient city has been discovered obviously refers
to the same position at Begram near Charikar, and is a useful
commentary on the rapidity with which the fame and name of an original
explorer can disappear.

The Masson collection of coins, which totalled between 15,000 and
20,000 in 1837, and which was presented to the East India Company,
proved a veritable revelation of unknown kings and dynasties, and
contributed enormously to our positive knowledge of Central Asian
history. The vast number of Cufic coins found at Begram show that the
city must have existed for some centuries after the Mahomedan
invasion. Chinese travellers tell of a city called Hupian in this
neighbourhood, but Masson is inclined to place the site of Hupian near
Charikar, where there was, in his time, a village called Malek Hupian.
He thinks that Begram had certainly ceased to exist at the time of
Timur's expedition to India; or that conqueror would not have found it
necessary to construct a canal from the Ghorband stream in order to
colonize this favoured corner of the Kabul plain. The canal still
exists as the Mahighir, and the people of the neighbourhood talked
Turki in Masson's time. Three miles east of Kabul there is another
ancient site known as Begram. This was probably the precursor of Kabul
itself, and other "Begrams" are known in India. The term appears to be
generic and to denote a famous site. Buddhist relics lie thickly round
about the Afghan Begrams, groups of them being very abundant
throughout the Kabul valley.

It was after his first visit to Begram that Masson became acquainted
with M. Honigberger, whom he describes as a gentleman from Lahore bent
on archaeological research; and at the close of the autumn Dr.
Gerard, the companion of Lieut. Burnes, appeared at Kabul.
Honigberger's researches, like those of Gerard, appear to have been
confined to archaeology, and the results of them form an interesting
story which was given to the world by Eugene Jacquet; but as neither
of these gentlemen can be said to have contributed to the early
geographical knowledge of the country, no further reference need be
made to them, beyond remarking that Honigberger very narrowly escaped
being murdered on his subsequent journey to Bokhara.

Masson's extraordinary capability of dealing with every class of
people with whom he came in contact, and his consequent apparent
immunity from the dangers which beset the ordinary unaccredited
traveller, should not lead to the assumption that Afghanistan was a
safe country to travel in at the time of our first political
negotiations, in spite of there being less fanaticism at that time;
whilst the trans-Oxus states were then almost unapproachable. There,
at least, the gradual encroachment of Russian civilization has
absolutely altered the conditions of European existence, and Bokhara
has become quite a favourite resort for tourists.

Masson's story of Afghan intrigue, which is the substance of Afghan
history at this period, is as interesting as are his archaeological
investigations, for it affords us a view of events which occurred
behind the scenes, shut off from India by the curtain of the frontier
hills; but whilst he thus occupied his busy mind with the past and
the present policy of Afghanistan, he did not lose sight of the
opportunity for making fresh excursions into Afghan territory. His
visits to the Kabul valley and Peshawar can hardly claim to be
original explorations, though he undoubtedly acquired by them a local
geographical knowledge far in advance of anything then existing on the
Indian side of the border, and some of it ranks as authoritative even
now. It must not be supposed that these visits and investigations were
carried on without grave risk and constant difficulty, but by this
time Masson had so wide and so varied a personal acquaintance with the
leading chiefs and tribespeople of the country that he usually
succeeded in distinguishing friend from foe, and extricated himself
from positions which would have been fatal to any one less
knowledgeable than himself.

During the year 1835 we learn that Masson was in Northern Afghanistan,
chiefly at Kabul, gathering information; but there appears to be
hardly a place which now figures in our maps with any prominence in
the Kabul province which he did not succeed in visiting; and as
regards some of them (Kunar, for instance) there was nothing added to
his record for at least sixty years. He penetrated the Alishang valley
to within 12 miles of Najil, a point which no European has succeeded
in reaching since; but his sphere of observation was always too
restricted to enable him to make much of his geographical
opportunities. Najil is now somewhat doubtfully placed on our maps
from native information gathered during the surveys executed with the
Afghan campaign of 1878-80.

It was at this period in Masson's career (in 1835) that English
political interest in Kabul began to take an active shape. About this
time Masson accepted a proposal from the Indian Government (which
reached him through Captain Wade, the political officer on the Punjab
frontier) to act as British agent and keep the Government informed as
to the progress of affairs in Kabul. It is rather surprising that
Masson, who never misses an opportunity of asserting that he was not
an Englishman, and was by no means in sympathy with the policy of the
Indian Government towards Afghanistan, should have accepted this
responsibility. However, he did so, for a time at least, though he
subsequently requested that he might be relieved from the duties
entailed by such an equivocal position. He negotiated the foundation
of a commercial treaty between India and Kabul, but with scant
success. This period of seething intrigue at Kabul (as also between
Dost Mahomed Khan and the Sikhs) was hardly favourable to its
inception. His efforts were duly acknowledged by the Government, but
his position as agent became untenable when he found that it led to
interference with the great object of his residence in Afghanistan,
_i.e._ antiquarian research. We can only touch upon the political
events of 1836-37 cursorily, in spite of their absorbing interest, in
order to follow the sequence of Masson's career.

At the beginning of 1836 the Sikhs under Ranjit Singh were
consolidating their position on the Western Punjab frontier, whilst
Dost Mahomed Khan was working all he knew to secure men and money for
military purposes. This led to a half-hearted renewal of
correspondence between Masson and Wade. The commencement of the year
1837 was marked by active preparations on the part of Dost Mahomed for
a campaign against the Sikhs, resulting in an equivocal victory for
the Afghans near Jamrud under Akbar Khan, but no essential change in
the relative position as regards the Peshawar frontier. Various were
the projects set on foot at this time for the assassination of the
Amir, and in the general network of bloody intrigue Masson was not
overlooked; but he was discreetly absent from Kabul during the winter
of 1836-37, having previously found it necessary to keep his house
full of armed men. He returned to Kabul in the spring.

Towards the end of September 1837 Captain Burnes arrived in Kabul on
that historical commercial mission which was to result in a disastrous
misunderstanding between the Indian Government and the Amir. If we are
to believe Masson, it would be difficult to conceive a more
mismanaged and hopelessly bungled political function than this mission
proved to be; but we must remember that in experience of the Afghan
character and knowledge of intrigue the Indian Government and Council
were by no means experts. It is difficult to believe that the mere
fact of inadequate recognition of his services and consequent
disappointment could have so affected a man of Masson's independence
of character, natural ability, and clear sense of justice, as to lead
him to misrepresent the position absolutely. As a commercial mission
he regarded it as unnecessary.

Burnes was instructed to proceed first to Haidarabad (in Sind) for the
purpose of opening up the Indus to commercial navigation, and thence
to journey _via_ Attok to Peshawar (held by the Sikhs), Kabul, and
Kandahar, back again to Haidarabad, all in the interest of a trade
which was already flourishing between Afghanistan and ports on the
Indus already established. "The Governments of India and of England,"
says Masson, "as well as the public at large were never amused and
deceived by a greater fallacy than that of opening the Indus as
regards commercial objects."

The keynote of Masson's policy was non-interference, so long as
interference either in trade or politics was not forced on the British
Government. At that time such views were undoubtedly sound; but even
then there was a stir in the political atmosphere which betokened much
nervousness in high quarters on the subject of Persian and Russian
intrigues with Afghanistan. So far, however, as Masson observes,
"there was little notion entertained at this time of convulsing
Central Asia, of deposing and setting up Kings, of carrying on wars,
of lavishing treasure, and of the commission of a long train of crimes
and follies." But with the arrival of Burnes at Kabul trade interests
seem to have faded and those of a more active policy to have taken
their place. The weak point in this change of policy appears to have
been the want of definite instructions from the Government of India to
their agent.

The appearance of a Russian officer (Lieut. Vektavitch) at Kabul from
the Russian camp at Herat in December (he had, according to Masson, no
real authority to support him, and could only have been acting as a
spy on Burnes) was a source of much agitation; but nothing whatever
appears to have eventuated from his residence in Kabul, except grave
risk to himself. Masson never believed in the dangers arising from
either Persian or Russian intrigue (and he was certainly in a position
to judge), and he remarks about Vektavitch "that such a man could have
been expected to defeat a British mission is too ridiculous a notion
to be entertained; nor would his mere appearance have produced such a
result had not the mission itself been set forth without instructions
for its guidance, and had it not been conducted recklessly, and in
defiance of all common sense and decorum." This, indeed, is the
attitude assumed by Masson throughout towards the mission, although he
was still in the service of the Indian Government and acting under
Burnes.

Burnes certainly seems to have behaved with great want of dignity in
the presence of the Amir and his Sirdars; making obeisance, and
addressing the Amir as if he were a dependant. Nor can his private
arrangements and his method of living in Kabul be commended as those
of a dignified agent. European manners and customs were looser in
those days in India than they are now, but with all latitude for the
_autres temps autres m[oe]urs_ excuse for his conduct, his ideas of
Eastern life seem to have been almost too oriental even for the
approval of the dissolute Afghan. Certain it is that no proposal made
by him on his own responsibility to the Amir (especially as regards
the cession of Peshawar on the death of Ranjit Singh) was supported by
his Government, and time after time he enjoyed the humiliation of
being obliged to eat his own words. On these occasions it would appear
that Masson seldom omitted the opportunity of saying "I told you so."

In the interests of geographical explorations, this mission of Burnes
was important. Whatever else he was, there is no question that he was
as keen a geographical observer as Masson himself, and even if the
wisdom of the despatch of his assistants (Lieut. Leech to Kandahar,
and Dr. Lord with Lieut. Wood to Badakshan) may be questioned on
political grounds, it led to a series of remarkable explorations, some
of which even now furnish authority for Afghan map-making.

In May 1837, Lieut. Eldred Pottinger arrived on leave from India (with
the interest of his father Sir Henry Pottinger to back him), and
immediately made secret preparations for his adventurous journey
through the Hazarajat from Kabul to Herat, which terminated in his
participation in the defence of Herat against the Persians. Thus was
the first authentic account received of the nature of that difficult
mountain region which has subsequently been so thoroughly exploited.
Afghanistan was just beginning to be known.

Masson naturally disapproved of Pottinger's exploit, for he found
himself in hot water owing to the suspicion that he connived at it. He
says: "I have always thought that however fortunate for Lieut.
Pottinger himself, his trip to Herat was an unlucky one for his
country; the place would have been fought as well without him; and his
presence, which would scarcely be thought accidental, although truly
it was so, must not only have irritated the Persian King, but have
served as a pretext for the more prominent exertions of the Russian
staff. It is certain that when he started from Kabul he had no idea
that the city would be invested by a Persian army." Colonel Stoddart
was then the British agent in the Persian Camp.

Incidentally it may be useful to note the results of the occupation of
Seistan about this time by an Afghan army under Shah Kamran, Governor
of Herat and brother to Dost Mahomed; the one brother, in fact, whom
he feared the most. Kamran's army had threatened Kandahar in the early
spring and had spread into Seistan. Here the cavalry horses perished
from disease, and the finest force which had marched from Herat for
years was placed absolutely _hors de combat_. Unable to obtain the
assistance of the army in the field, the frontier fortress of Ghorian
surrendered, and thus reduced Kamran to the necessity of retirement on
Herat and sustaining a siege. The destructive climate of Seistan has
evidently not greatly changed during the last century.

Masson's view of the policy best adapted to the tangled situation was
the surrender of Peshawur to Sultan Mahomed Khan (the Amir's brother),
who already enjoyed half its revenues, which would have been an
acceptable proposition to the Sikh chief, Ranjit Singh (who found the
occupation of Peshawar a most profitless undertaking), and would at
the same time have reconciled the chiefs at Kandahar. The Amir Dost
Mahomed would have reconciled himself to a situation which he could
not avoid and the Indian Government would have enjoyed the credit of
establishing order on their frontiers on a tolerably sure basis
without committing themselves to any alliance, for (he writes) "my
experience has brought me to the decided opinion that any strict
alliance with powers so constituted would prove only productive of
mischief and embarrassment, while I still thought that British
influence might be usefully exerted in preserving the integrity of the
several states and putting their rulers on their good behaviour."
Subsequent events proved the soundness of these views, but we must
remember that Masson wrote "after the event." That he did, however,
strongly counsel Burnes to make no promise in the name of his
Government of the cession of Peshawar to the Amir on the death of
Ranjit Singh, is clear, and it is impossible to say how far the
disappointment felt by the Amir at the refusal of the Indian
Government to ratify this promise may have affected his subsequent
actions. Masson thinks that Burnes should have been recalled, but he
admits the difficulty that beset him owing to want of instructions.
"The folly of sending such a man as Captain Burnes without the fullest
and clearest instructions was now shown," etc. etc. It is surprising
that with his confidence in the ability of his immediate Chief so
absolutely destroyed, he should have continued to serve under him.

Finally, on April 26, Burnes and Masson left Kabul together in a hurry
and were subsequently joined by Lord and Wood, and "thus closed a
mission, one of the most extraordinary ever sent forth by a
Government, whether as to the singular manner in which it was
conducted, or as to the results." Shortly after Masson resigned an
appointment under the Government of India which he stigmatises as
"disagreeable and dishonourable." It was a pity that he held it so
long.

When Masson reached India he found that the Government had already
decided to restore the refugee Shah Sujah to the throne of Kabul, and
that a military expedition to Kandahar had been arranged. What he has
to say about the manner of this arrangement and the nature of the
influence brought to bear on Lord Auckland to bring it about is not
more pleasant reading than is his story of the Kabul Mission. This
tale, indeed, does not belong to the history of exploration any
further than to indicate under what conditions the first military
geographical knowledge of Farther Afghanistan was gained by such true
explorers as Pottinger, Lord, and Wood; and what amount of actually
new information was attained by Burnes' mission. This was very
considerable, as we shall see when we follow Burnes' assistants into
the field. Meanwhile we have not quite done with Masson.

The closing incidents of the career of this remarkable man, as an
explorer, call for little more comment. Once again, in the year
preceding the disastrous termination to our first occupation of Kabul,
did he make Karachi and Sonmiani his base of departure for a fresh
venture in behalf of archaeological research in Afghanistan. It was his
intention to proceed to Kandahar and Kabul, but his plans were
frustrated by as remarkable a series of incidents as could well have
barred the progress of any traveller. The Government of India,
instigated by reports which (according to Masson) were the results of
local intrigue and were palpably false, considered itself justified in
an expedition to Kalat and the deposition of its Brahui chief, Mehrab
Khan. This expedition was successfully carried out by General
Wiltshire, and Mehrab Khan was killed in the defence of his citadel.
Subsequently a British agent, Lieut. Loveday, was appointed to Kalat,
and Masson found him there on his arrival from Sonmiani. Masson's
description of him and of his crude political methods is not
flattering, and his weak surrender of Kalat to the badly armed Brahui
rabble who attacked the place in the interests of the late Khan's son
was certainly disgraceful. That surrender, which was only wiped out by
Nott's advance on Kalat, and the final suppression of the Brahui
revolt, cost Loveday his life, and placed Masson in deadly peril. He,
however, succeeded in reaching Quetta, where Captain Bean was in
political charge; but this officer not only put him into confinement
but treated him with positive barbarity.

It is difficult to understand the political view of Masson's existence
in Baluchistan. If any man was capable of unriddling the network of
intrigue that occupied all the Baluch chiefs at this time, or could
bring anything of personal influence to bear on them, it was
undoubtedly Masson, and something of his history was at any rate
known. But he had resigned service under the Indian Government as
"disagreeable and dishonourable," and his reappearance at a time when
all Baluchistan was in the ferment of seething revolt was perhaps
regarded with suspicion. It is also quite conceivable that the local
political officer regarded him simply as an interloping loafer, and,
until he became better acquainted with Masson's character and ability,
would be no more likely to pay him attention than would any political
officer on the frontier to-day who suddenly found himself confronted
with a European in native dress with no valid explanation of his
appearance under very ambiguous circumstances. The days were not long
past when European loafers of any nationality whatsoever could, and
did, find not only service, but distinction, in the courts and armies
of native chiefs who were hostile to British interests. One can only
gather from Masson's strange story that there was no officer in the
British political service at that time with intuition sufficient to
enable him to appraise the situation correctly, or make use of other
experience than his own.

Here, however, we must leave Masson. As an explorer in Afghanistan he
stands alone. His work has never been equalled; but owing to the very
unsatisfactory methods adopted by all explorers in those days for the
recording of geographical observations it cannot be said that his
contribution to exact geographical knowledge was commensurate with
his extraordinary capacity as an observant traveller, or his
remarkable industry.

It is as a critic on the political methods of the Government of India
that Masson's records are chiefly instructive. Hostile critics of
Indian administrative methods usually belong to one of two classes.
They are either uninformed, notoriety-seeking demagogues playing to a
certain party gallery at home, or they are disappointed servants of
the Government, by whom they consider that their merits have been
overlooked. To this latter class it must be conceded that Masson
belonged, in spite of his expressed contempt for government service.
Thus the virulence of his attacks on the ignorance and fatuity of the
political officials with whom he was brought in contact must be freely
discounted, because of the obvious animus which pervades them. Still
it is to be feared there is too much reason to believe that private
interest was the recommendation which carried most weight in the
appointment of unfledged officers, both civil and military, to
political duty on the Indian frontier. These gentlemen took the field
without experience, and without that which might to a certain extent
take the place of experience, viz. an education in the main principles
both social and economical which govern the conditions of existence of
the people with whom they had to deal. A knowledge of political
economy, law, and languages is not enough to enable the young
administrator to take his place on the frontier, if he knows not
enough of the characteristics of the frontier tribes-people to enable
him to maintain the dignity of his position. Even physically there are
qualifications which are not always regarded as useful, which make for
strong influence and good government. A man may be physically powerful
enough to use his strength in fair contest to the immense enhancement
of his personal prestige, but he must not strike a blow where the blow
cannot be returned; and above all he must not endeavour to conciliate
by a silly display of obsequious attention, unless he is prepared to
sacrifice all his personal influence and destroy the respect due to
his office.

Setting aside Masson's sentiments of disgust and horror (which he
really felt) that the fate of men should have been placed at the mercy
of the political officers in whom, at that time, Lord Auckland was
pleased to repose confidence, and his assertions that "on me developed
the task to obtain satisfaction for the insults some of these shallow
and misguided men thought fit to practise," his own account of the
extraordinary complexity of intrigue, and the unfathomable abyss of
deceit and crime which distinguished the political field of native
Baluchistan, is quite enough to account for much of their failure to
deal with the situation. At the same time, it is a strong indication
of the necessity for a sounder system of political education than any
which now exists. Possibly a time may come when we shall cease to see
systems of administration suitable to the plains applied to frontier
mountaineers, or, for that matter, the foreign methods of India
hammered into the nomadic pastoral peoples of other continents than
Asia, where they are wholly inapplicable.




CHAPTER XII

ENGLISH OFFICIAL EXPLORATION--LORD AND WOOD


Then followed the Afghan Campaign of 1839-40, a campaign which was in
many ways disastrous to our credit in Afghanistan both as diplomats
and soldiers, but which undoubtedly opened out an opportunity for
acquiring a general knowledge of the conformation of the country which
was not altogether neglected. With the political methods attending the
inception of the campaign (treated with such scathing scorn by
Masson), and the strange bungling of an overweighted and unwieldy
force armed with antique weapons we have nothing to do. The question
is whether, apart from the acquisition of route sketches and
intelligence reports dependent on the movements of the army in the
field, was there anything that could rank as original exploration in
new geographical fields? Lieut. North's excellent traverse and report
of the route to Kandahar, which still supplies data for an integral
part of our maps, was distinguished for more accuracy of detail and
observation than most efforts of a similar character made at that
time; but it can hardly be regarded as an illustration of new and
original exploration, the route itself being well enough known to
British Missions, although never before surveyed. It is undoubtedly
one of the best map contributions of the period.

The adventures of Dr. Lord and Lieut. Wood in Badakshan, and the
remarkable journey of Broadfoot across Central Afghanistan, however,
belong to another category. These explorations covered new ground,
much of which has never since been visited by European travellers, and
they are authoritative records still. There were missed opportunities
in abundance. Also opportunities which were not missed, but of which
our records are so incomplete and obscure that the modern map-maker
can extract but little useful information from them.

When Burnes was in Kabul on his first commercial mission, Dr. Lord and
Lieut. Leech of the Bombay Engineers were attached to his staff, and
both these gentlemen, with Lieut. Wood of the Indian Navy,
distinguished themselves by much original research, and have left
records the value of which has been proved by subsequent observations.
In the middle of October 1837 Dr. Lord left Kabul on an expedition
into the plains of the Koh Daman, to the north of that city, which was
to be extended to the passes of the Hindu Kush leading into Badakshan,
when he was subsequently invited to attend the court of Murad Beg,
the chief of Kunduz, in his professional capacity. Murad Beg was one
of the strongest chiefs of that time. As a bold and astute freebooter
and successful warrior he had made his name great amongst the Uzbeks
south of the Oxus, and had consolidated their scattered clans for the
time being into a formidable cohesion, the strength of which made
itself felt and respected at Kabul. Where Dost Mahomed's influence
ceased on the north there commenced that of Murad Beg, and the line of
division may be said to have extended from Ak Robat at the head of the
Bamian valley on the west, to the passes and foot-hills of the Hindu
Kush above Andarab on the east. It was late in the year for Lord to
attempt the passing of the Hindu Kush, and he appears to have lingered
too long amongst the delightful autumn scenes of that land of
enchantment, the Koh Daman. He selected the passes which strike off
from Charikar, near the junction of the Ghorband with the Panjshir
rivers. There has always been a slight confusion in the naming of this
group of passes, owing to the universal habit in Afghanistan of
bestowing the name of some possibly insignificant village site on
rivers, passes, and roads, without attaching any distinct and definite
name to these features themselves.

From that break in the hills which gives passage to the Ghorband from
the south-west and the Panjshir from the north-east there strikes off
one well-known route across the backbone of the Hindu Kush, which is
marked near the southern foot of the mountains by the ancient town of
Parwan--a commercial site more ancient than that of Kabul--the
headquarters of Sabaktagin, the Ghuri conqueror, when he wrested Kabul
from the Hindu kings, and of Timur the Tartar in later ages.
Consequently, the pass which bears north from that point is often
called the Parwan. It was, according to Lord, the chief khafila route
from Badakshan (although it may be doubted whether it was ever as
popular as the Khawak when the Panjshir route was not closed by tribal
hostility), notwithstanding that far less traffic passed that way than
by Bamian and the Unai. The head of the pass was known as Sar Alang,
so that it figures in geographical records frequently under this name
also, whilst the local name acquired for it in the course of surveying
in 1883 was Bajgah. To the west of this is the Kaoshan Pass, which is
also known _par excellence_ as the pass of "Hindu Kush"; and farther
west again is the Gwalian (or Walian), an alternative to the Kaoshan
when the latter is in flood. Lord selected the Parwan or Sar Alang
Pass, narrow, rocky, and uneven, with a fall of about 200 feet per
mile, and was fairly defeated in his attempt to cross, on October 19,
by snow. This is about the closing time of the passes generally, the
Parwan being only 12,300 feet in altitude, although Lord estimated it
at 15,000. It is worth noting here that the Russo-Afghan Boundary
Commission party crossed by the Chahardar Pass (a pass to the west
again of the Walian) in the same month of October without encountering
any insuperable difficulty from snow, although the Chahardar is more
than 1000 feet higher than the Parwan. The fact that Lord met a
khafila snow-bound near the top of the pass indicates that it was
closed rather unexpectedly. Valuable observations were, however, the
result of this reconnaissance. It revealed the fact that snow lies
lower and deeper on the northern side of the Hindu Kush than on the
southern, a fact which is in direct opposition to the general
characteristics of the Himalayas. The explanation is, however, simple.
In both cases the snow lies lowest on that side which reaches down to
low humid plains and much precipitation of moisture. Where the barrier
of the mountains breaks the upward sweep of vapour-bearing currents,
there snowfall is arrested, and the highlands become desiccated.
Lord's observation as a geologist also determined the constitution of
these mountains. He noted the rugged uplift (beautiful from the
admixture of pure white felspar and glossy black hornblende) of the
central granite peaks through the overlying gneiss, schists, and
slate, which thus revealed the extension of one of the great primeval
folds of Himalayan conformation.

Returning from his attempt to cross the pass, Lord had the good
fortune to be able to extend his researches for a day's march up the
Ghorband valley, and to explore the ancient lead mines of Ferengal,
which have been sunk in the Ghorband conglomerates, but had long been
abandoned by the Afghans. These he found to have been worked on
"knowledge and principle, not on blind chance,"--as might have been
expected in a country which still possesses some of the best practical
mining and irrigation engineers in the world; and he testifies, _inter
alia_, to the extraordinary effect of the exceeding dryness of the
interior, as evidenced by the preservation from decay of dead animals.
Similar phenomena have been observed in many parts of the world both
before and since, and it would appear that a satisfactory scientific
explanation is still wanting for this preservative tendency of caves
and mines; the atmosphere, in some cases where well-preserved remains
are found, being subject to exactly the same conditions of humidity as
the outer air.

It was during this interesting exploratory trip that Dr. Lord received
a welcome invitation to visit Murad Beg in the Uzbek capital of
Kunduz, where his professional advice was in urgent demand. Although
the northern passes of the Hindu Kush were closed, the route to
Badakshan was still open _via_ Bamian and Khulm, and it was by this
route that for the first (and apparently the last) time the journey
from Kabul to Kunduz was made by European officers. Lord was
accompanied by Lieut. Wood, and it is to Wood's summary of the
conditions of the route that we now refer. As far as Bamian it was
already beginning to be a well-known road (well known, that is, to
European travellers); but beyond that point it was a new venture then,
nor can any record be traced of subsequent investigations on it.

Wood summarises the route by first enumerating the seven passes which
have to be negotiated before reaching Kunduz (or Khulm), and gives us
a slight description of them all. Four of these passes were in Afghan
territory, and three beyond. Of the passes of Ispahak and Unai he
merely remarks that a mail-coach might be driven over them. The
Hajigak group he regards as the "Key-guide to the Bamian line," the
Hajigak being the highest pass encountered (about 11,000 feet). A
little to the north is the Irak, and to the south is the Pushti
Hajigak (Kafzur in modern maps); the Hajigak, or Irak, being open to
khafilas for ten months of the year, but for a considerably less
period to the passage of troops. The next pass Wood calls Kalloo
(Panjpilan in our maps), which he regards as being lower than Hajigak.
Then follows the descent into Bamian. Next is the Ak Robat Pass
(10,200 feet), between the valleys of Bamian and Saighan, of which
Wood reports that "it is open to wheeled traffic of all description."
As far as this (the then frontier of Afghanistan) Wood refers to the
fact, already recorded, that the Amir's Lieutenant--Haji Khan--was
able to take field-pieces "of a size between 12- and 18-pounders." We
already know the conditions under which this passage of artillery was
effected. It is also on record that Nadir Shah took guns as far as
Saighan. What is not so generally known is that the Uzbek chief, Murad
Beg, took an 18-pounder over the rest of the route from Saighan to
Kunduz. The three remaining passes are (1) the Dandan Shikan, between
Saighan and Kamard, of which Wood reports the north face to be
exceedingly difficult, and where he would never have believed that a
gun could pass, had it not been actually traversed by the 18-pounder
of Murad Beg. It may be mentioned here that it took 1100 men to drag
that gun up the northern face of the pass, so that Wood is quite
justified in classing it as only fit for camels. Then follows (2) the
Kara Pass, leading from Kamard into the valley of the Tashkurghan
River, about which the only remark made by Wood is that it may be
turned by the pass of Surkh Kila (which involves a considerable
detour). As Wood does not definitely state which is (3) the seventh
pass, we may assume that it is the Shamsuddin, which is merely a
detour to avoid an awkward reach of the Tashkurghan valley.

This is probably the first clear exposition which has ever been made
of the general nature of the route connecting Kabul with Afghan
Turkistan, and for it we must give Lieut. Wood all the credit that is
fully due; for no subsequent surveys and investigations have
materially altered his opinion. It must not be forgotten that in
dealing with the story of Afghan exploration we are touching on past
records. The far-sighted policy of public works development, which
distinguished the late Amir Abdurrahmon, led to the extension of roads
for facilitating commerce between the Oxus and Kabul, the full effect
of which we have yet to learn. To the north of Kabul the roads opened
to khafila traffic, _via_ the Chahardar Pass and the Khawak, have
introduced a new and important feature into the system of Afghan
communications; and it is more than probable that the facilities for
wheeled traffic between Kabul and Tashkurghan have lately been largely
increased.[12] It is well also to remember that it is not the physical
difficulties of rough roads and narrow passes which form the chief
obstacle to the movement of large bodies of troops. Roads can be made,
and crooked places straightened with comparative ease, but altitude,
sheer altitude, still remains a formidable barrier, which no modern
ingenuity has taught us to overcome. Deep impassable snow-drifts, and
the fierce killing blasts of the north-westers of Afghanistan close
these highland fields for months together; and neither roads nor
railways (still less air-ships) can prevail against them.

When Wood and Lord turned eastward from Khulm, and passed on to Kunduz
and Badakshan, they were treading ground which was absolutely new to
the European explorer, and which has seldom been reached even by the
ubiquitous native surveyor. Lord gives us but a scanty account of
Kunduz and northern Badakshan in his report, and we must turn to the
immortal Wood (the discoverer of one of the Oxus' sources) for fuller
and more picturesque detail. Wood left Kunduz for the upper Oxus in
the early spring of 1838, and it is somewhat remarkable that he should
have effected an important exploration successfully in regions so
highly elevated at the worst season of the year. Before following Wood
to the Oxus, we may add a few further details of that important march
from Kabul to Kunduz.

It was in November 1837 that Wood and Lord were again in Kabul after
their unsuccessful attempt to cross the Parwan Pass, and losing no
time they started on the 15th for Badakshan by the Bamian route,
crossing the Unai Pass and the elevated plain which separates it from
the Helmund without difficulty. They encountered large parties of
half-starved Hazaras seeking the plains on their annual pilgrimage to
warm quarters for the winter. They crossed the Hajigak Pass on the
19th "with great ease," then passing the divide between the Afghan and
Turkistan drainage; but they had to make a considerable detour to
avoid the direct Kalu Pass, and entered Bamian by the precipitous
Pimuri defile and the volcanic valley of Zohak. The Ak Robat Pass
presented no difficulty. In Saighan they encountered the slave-gang of
wretched Hazara people who were being then conducted to Kunduz as
yearly contribution. Not much is said about the Dandan Shikan Pass
dividing Saighan from Kamurd, where they were welcomed by the drunken
old chief Rahmatulla Khan, whose character for reckless hospitality
seems to have been a well-known feature in Badakshan. He is mentioned
by every traveller who passed that way since Burnes' mission in 1832.
On the 28th they reached Kuram, where they found another slave-gang
being conducted by Afghans from Kabul, who had the grace to appear
much ashamed of being caught red-handed in a traffic which has never
commended itself to Afghan public opinion. Amongst Uzbeks it is
different, the custom of man-stealing appears to have smothered every
better feeling, and the traffic in human beings extends even into
their domestic arrangements. Their wives are just as much "property"
as their slaves. A little below Kuram they struck off to the right by
a direct route to Kunduz, and passing over a district which had "a
wavy surface," "affording excellent pasturage," which involved the
crossing of the pass of Archa, they finally crossed the Kunduz River,
and making their way through the swampy district of Baglan and
Aliabad, reached Kunduz on December 4.

Wood is not enthusiastic about Kunduz. He calls it one of the most
wretched towns in Murad Beg's dominions. "The appearance of Kunduz
accords with the habits of an Uzbek; and by its manner, poverty and
filth, may be estimated the moral worth of its inhabitants." He
thought a good deal of Murad Beg all the same, and could not deny his
great abilities. "But with all his high qualifications Murad Beg is
but the head of an organised banditti, a nation of plunderers, whom,
however, none of the neighbouring states can exterminate." Murad Beg
has joined his fathers long ago, but no recent account of Kunduz much
alters Wood's opinion of it. The wretched Badakshanis whom Murad Beg
conquered, and whom he set to live or die in the dank pestilential
marshes which fill up the space between the Badakshan highlands and
the Oxus, have since then been restored to their own country; and of
Badakshan we heard enough from the Amir's officials connected with the
Pamir Boundary Commission to lead us to believe in it as a veritable
land of promise, a land whose natural beauty and fertility may be
compared to that of Kashmir--but this was told of the mountain
regions, not of the Oxus flats.

When Wood got away from Kunduz and travelled eastwards to Faizabad and
Jirm he does rise to enthusiasm, and tells us of scenes of natural
beauty which no European eye has seen since he passed that way. On
December 11, in mid-winter, Wood started from Kunduz with the
permission of Murad Beg to trace the "Jihun" to its source, and the
story of this historical exploration will always be most excellent
reading.

First crossing an open plain with a southern background of mountains,
a plain of jungle grass, moist and unfavourable to human life, with
stifling mists of vapour flitting uneasily before them, the party
reached higher ground and the town of Khanabad. Behind Khanabad rises
the isolated peak of Koh Umbar, 2500 feet above the plain, which
appears to be a remarkable landmark in this region. It has never yet
been fixed geographically. Passing through the low foot-hills
surrounding this mountain, Wood emerged into the plain of Talikhan,
and reached the ancient town of that name in a heavy downpour of
winter rain. Here at once he encountered reminiscences of Greek
occupation and claimants to the lineage of Alexander the Great. The
trail of the Greek occupation of Baktria clings to Badakshan as does
that of Nysa to the valleys of Kafiristan. The impression of Talikhan
is summed up by Wood in the statement that it is a most disagreeable
place in rainy weather. He might say the same of every town in Afghan
Turkistan. He has much to say of Uzbek character and idiosyncrasies.
In one respect he says that the habits of Uzbek children are superior
to those of young Britons. They do not rob sparrows' nests! Here, too,
Wood found himself on the track of Moorcroft. Striking eastward he
crossed the Lataband Pass (since fixed at 5650 feet in height) and
first encountered snow. From the pass he describes the surrounding
view as glorious: "In every quarter snowclad peaks shot up into the
sky," and he gives the name Khoja Mahomed to the range (unnamed in our
maps) which crosses Badakshan from north-east to south-west and forms
the chief water-parting of the country. Before him the Kokcha "rolled
its green waters through the rugged valley of Duvanah." The summit of
Lataband is wide and level and the descent eastwards comparatively
easy.

Through the pretty vale of Mashad (where Wood's party crossed the
Varsach River) to Teshkhan the road led generally over hilly country
covered with snow; but leaving Teshkhan it rises over the pass of
Junasdara (fixed by Wood at 6600 feet), crossing one of the great
spurs of the Khoja Mahomed system, and descended to Daraim, "a valley
scarce a bowshot across, but watered, as all the valleys in Badakshan
are, by a beautiful stream of the purest water, and bordered, wherever
there is soil, by a soft velvet turf." To Daraim succeeded the plain
of Argu and the "wavy" district of Reishkhan, which reached to the
valley of the Kokcha. So far, since leaving Talikhan, they had met
with "no sign of man or beast," but the latter were occasionally in
close proximity, for the path was made easy by hog tracks, and Wood
has some grisly tales to tell about the ferocity of the wolves of the
country. Junasdara he describes as a difficult or steep pass, but he
notes the fact that Murad Beg had crossed it with artillery which left
evidence in wheel tracks.

Of Faizabad, when Wood was there, "scarcely a vestige was left," and
Jirm had become the capital of the country. But Faizabad has risen to
importance since, and according to the reports of subsequent native
explorers, has regained a good deal of its commercial importance.
"Behind the site of the town the mountains are in successive ridges to
a height of at least 2000 feet" (_i.e._ above the plain); "before it
rolls the Kokcha in a rocky trench-like bed sufficiently deep to
preclude all danger of inundation. Looking up the valley, the ruined
and uncultivated gardens are seen to fringe the stream for a distance
of two miles above the town." Faizabad is about 3950 feet above
sea-level. Wood makes it about 500 feet lower, and his original
observations were probably of more than equal value with those of
subsequent native explorers. But certain recent improvements in
exploring instruments, and certain refinements in computing the value
of such observations, render the balance of probability in favour of
the later records. Wood (as a sailor) was a professional observer, and
where observations alone are concerned his own are excellent.

From Faizabad Wood went to Jirm, which he regarded as a more important
position than Faizabad. Elsewhere an opinion has been expressed that
Jirm was the ancient capital of the country. Wood took the shortest
road to Jirm which leaves the Kokcha valley and passes over the Kasur
spur, winding by a high and slippery path for some distance along the
face of the hill. It was a two days' march. The fort at Jirm he
describes as the most important in Murad Beg's dominions. His stay at
Jirm gave him the opportunity of visiting the lapis-lazuli mines near
the head of the Kokcha River under the shadow of the Hindu Kush just
bordering Kafiristan. This experience was useful, for Wood not only
contributes a most interesting account of the working of the mines,
but places on record the impracticable nature of the route which
follows the Kokcha River from its source above the mines to Jirm. Near
the assumed source, and not far south of the mines, there are two
passes across the Hindu Kush, viz. the Minjan, which connects with the
well-known Dorah and leads to Chitral, and the Mandal, which unites
the head of the Bashgol valley of Kafiristan with the Minjan sources
of the Kokcha. The upper reaches of the Kokcha River form the Minjan
valley. Sir George Robertson crossed the Mandal in 1889 and fixed its
height at over 15,000 feet, and he places the head of the Minjan (or
Kokcha) much farther south than it appears in our maps. As the Mandal
Pass connects Kafiristan with the Minjan valley of the Kokcha
(pronounced by Wood to be almost impracticable above Jirm), it is of
no great geographical importance; nor, owing to the same
impracticability, is the Minjan Pass itself of any great consequence,
although it connects with Chitral. The Dorah (14,800 feet), on the
other hand, links up Chitral with another branch of the Kokcha,
passing by the populous commercial town of Zebak, and is consequently
a pass to be reckoned with in spite of its altitude. It is, in short,
the chief pass over the Hindu Kush directly connecting India with
Badakshan; but a pass which is nearly as high as Mont Blanc affords no
royal gateway through the mountains.

Wood had sufficiently indicated the nature of the Kokcha valley
between Jirm and Minjan. At the point where the mines occur it is
about 200 yards wide. On both sides the mountains are "high and
naked," and the river flows in a trough 70 feet below the bed of the
valley. We know that it is not a practicable route. It is, however,
much to be regretted that no modern explorer has touched the valley of
Anjuman to the west of Minjan, which, whilst it is perhaps the main
contributor to the waters of the Kokcha, also appears to have
contained a recognised route in mediaeval times. "If you wish not to go
to destruction, avoid the narrow valley of Koran," is a native warning
quoted by Wood, which seems to apply to the upper Kokcha. As a
passable khafila route, Idrisi writes that from Andarab to Badakshan
_towards the east_ is a four days' journey. Andarab (the ancient site)
being fixed at the junction of the Kasan stream with the Andarab
River, the only possible route eastwards would be to the head of the
Andarab at Khawak, and thence over the Nawak Pass into the Anjuman
valley. Nor can the Nawak (which is as well known a pass as the
Khawak) have any _raison d'etre_ unless it connects with that valley.
There is, however, the possibility of a wrong inference from Idrisi's
vague statement. "Badakshan" (which was represented by either Jirm or
Faizabad) is actually east of Andarab, but to reach it by the obvious
route of the lowlands, following the Kunduz River and ultimately
striking eastwards, would involve starting from Andarab to the west of
north. But just as the Mandal leading into the Minjan valley opens up
no useful route in spite of being a well-known pass, so may the Nawak
lead to nothing really practicable in Anjuman. This, indeed, is
probably the case, but Anjuman remains to be explored.

Returning to Jirm, Wood awaited the opportunity for his historic
exploration of the Oxus. This occurred at the end of January 1838,
when news came to Jirm that the Oxus was frozen above Darwaz. The only
route open to travellers in the snow time of that region is the bed of
the frozen river, and Wood determined to make the best use of the
opportunity. He was anxious to visit the ruby mines of the Oxus
valley, but in this he did not succeed, owing to the extreme
difficulties of the route following the river from its great bend
northward to the district of Gharan, in which these mines are
situated. He met the remnants of a party returning from Gharan which
had lost nearly half its numbers from an avalanche when he reached
Zebak, and wisely determined to expend his efforts in following up the
course of the river to its source, rather than tempt Providence by a
dangerous detour. To reach Zebak from Jirm it was necessary to follow
the Kokcha to its junction with the Wardoj and then turn up that
valley to Zebak. This journey in winter, with the biting blasts of the
glacier-bred winds of the Hindu Kush in their teeth, was sufficiently
trying. These devastated regions seem to be never free from the plague
of wind. It is bad enough in the Pamirs in summer, but in winter when
superadded to the effects of a cold registering 6 deg. below zero it must
have been maddening. There was no great difficulty in crossing the
divide between Zebak (a small but not unimportant town) and the elbow
of the Oxus River at Ishkashm.

Once again since the days of Wood a party of Europeans, which included
two well-known geographers (Lockhart and Woodthorpe, both of whom have
since gone to their rest), reached Ishkashm in 1886, and they were
treated there with anything but hospitality. Wood seemed to have fared
better. With the authority of Murad Beg to back him, and his own tact
and determination to carry him through, he succeeded in overcoming all
obstacles, and from point to point he made his way to where the Oxus
forks at Kila Panja. From Ishkashm to Kila Panja the valley was fairly
wide and open, and here for the first time he met those interesting
nomadic folk the Kirghiz.

Wood's observations on the people he met are always acute and
interesting, but he seems rather to have been influenced (as he admits
that he may have been) by his Badakshani guides in framing his
estimate of Kirghiz character. Thieves and liars they may be. These
characteristics are common in High Asia, but even in these particulars
they compare favourably with Uzbeks and Afghans generally. At any rate
he trusted them, and it was with their assistance that he reached the
source of the Oxus. Without them in a world of snow-covered hills and
depressions, with every halting-place buried deep and not a trace of a
track to be seen, he would have fared badly. At Kila Panja he was
faced with a difficulty which gave him anxious consideration. Could he
have guessed what issues would thereafter hang on a decision to that
momentous question--which branch of the Oxus led to its real
source--it would have caused him even greater anxiety. Ultimately he
followed the northern branch which waters the Great Pamir, and after
almost incredible exertion in floundering through snowdrifts and
scratching his way along the ice road of the river surface, on
February 19, 1838, he overlooked that long narrow expanse of frozen
water which is now known as Victoria Lake.

We may discuss the question of the source, or sources, of the Oxus
still, and trace them to the great glaciers from which the lakes north
and south of the Nicolas range are fed, or to the ice caverns of the
Hindu Kush as we please--there are many sources, and it is not in the
power of mortal man to measure their relative profundity--but Wood
still lives in geographical history as the first explorer of the upper
Oxus, and will rank with Speke and Grant as the author of a solution
to one of the great riddles of the world's hydrography. With infinite
labour he dug a hole through the ice and found the depth of the lake
at its centre to be only 9 feet. Were he to plumb it again in these
days he would find it even less, for the lake (like all Central Asian
lakes) is growing smaller and shallower year by year. The information
which he absorbed about the high regions of Asia, the Pamirs (the
Bam-i-dunya), was wonderfully correct on the whole, and is strong
evidence of his ability in sifting the mass of miscellaneous matter
with which the Asiatic usually conceals a geographical truth. He is
incorrect only in the matter of altitude, which he fixes too high by
more than a thousand feet, and he makes rather a strange mistake in
recording that the Kunar (the Chitral River) rises north of the Hindu
Kush and breaks through that range. Otherwise it would be difficult to
add to or to correct his information by the light of subsequent
surveys. With his return journey surrounded by all the enchantment of
bursting spring in those regions we need not concern ourselves. After
a three months' absence he rejoined Dr. Lord at Kunduz.

Wood's return to Kunduz was but the prelude to another journey of
exploration into the northern regions of Badakshan which, in some
respects, was the most important of all his investigations, for it is
to the information obtained on this journey that we are still indebted
for what little knowledge we possess of the general characteristics of
the Oxus valley above Termez. Dr. Lord was summoned in his medical
capacity to visit a chief at Hazrat Imam on the Oxus River, and Wood
seized the opportunity to explore the Oxus basin from Hazrat Imam
upwards through Darwaz.

Kunduz itself has been described by both authorities as a miserable
swamp-bound town, with pestilential low-lying flats stretching beyond
it towards the Oxus. This low country is, however, productive, and is
probably by this time largely reclaimed from the grass and reed beds
which covered it. Into this poisonous swamp country the Uzbek chief
had imported the wretched Badakshani Tajiks whom he had captured
during his extensive raids, for the purpose of colonizing. Wood
reckons that 100,000 people must have originally been dumped into this
swamp land, of whom barely 6000 were left when he was at Kunduz.
Between the swamp and the Oxus was a splendid stretch of prairie or
pasture land, reaching to the tangled jungle which immediately fringed
the river below the Darwaz mountains, and this naturally excited his
admiration. "Eastward" of Khulm "to the rocky barriers of Darwaz all
the high-lying portion of the valley is at this season (March) a wild
prairie of sweets, a verdant carpet enamelled with flowers"; and he
describes the "low swelling" hills fringing these plains as "soft to
the eye as the verdant sod which carpets them is to the foot." This is
very pretty, and quite accords with the general description of country
which forms part of the Oxus valley much farther west. The Oxus
jungles, however, only occur at intervals. In Wood's time (1838) they
were a thick tangle of low-growing scrub, which formed the haunts of
wild beasts which were a terror to the dwellers in the plains. Tigers
are found in those patches of Oxus jungle still. Hazrat Imam then
ranked with Zebak and Jirm as one of the most important towns of
Badakshan. East of Hazrat Imam were the traces of a gigantic canal
system with its head about Sherwan, from which point to the foot-hills
of Darwaz the river is (or was) fordable in almost any part. Wood
forded it at a point near Yang Kila, opposite Saib in Kolab, in March,
and found the river running in three channels, only one of which was
really difficult. In this one, however, the current was running 4
miles an hour and the width of the channel was about 200 yards. It was
only by uniting the forces of the party to oppose the stream that
they were able to effect the passage. Thus was Wood probably the first
European to set his foot in Kolab north of the Oxus. The river-bottom
in this part of its course is generally pebbly, and at the Sherwan
ford guns had been taken across. Near the mouth of the Kokcha (here a
sluggish muddy stream) Wood found the site of an ancient city which he
calls Barbarra, and which I think is probably the Mabara of Idrisi.

Wood's next excursion from Kunduz was by the direct high road westward
to Mazar, where he and Lord hoped to find relics of Moorcroft (in
which quest they were successful), and back again. This only confirmed
what was previously known of the facility of that route, one of the
most ancient in the world, and the attention which had been paid to it
by the construction of covered tanks (they would be called Haoz
farther west) at intervals for the convenience of travellers. The
final recall of these two explorers to Kabul afforded them the
opportunity for investigating the route which runs directly south from
Kunduz by the river valley of that name to the junction with the
Baghlan. Thence, following the Baghlan to its head, they crossed by
the Murgh Pass into the valley of Andarab, and diverging eastward they
adopted the Khawak Pass to reach the Panjshir valley, and so to Kabul.
No great difficulties were encountered on this route (which has only
been partially explored since), involving only two passes between the
Oxus and Kabul, _i.e._ the Murgh (7400 feet) which is barely mentioned
by Wood, and the Khawak (11,650 feet--Wood makes it 1500 feet higher),
and it undoubtedly possesses many advantages as the modern popular
route between Kabul and Badakshan. It is not the high-road to Mazar
(the capital of Afghan Turkistan), which will always be represented by
the Bamian route, but it must be recognised as a fairly easy means of
communication in summer between the chief fords of the Oxus and the
Kabul valley. The Greek settlements were about Baghlan and Andarab,
and undoubtedly this was the road best known to them across the Hindu
Kush, and probably as much used as the Kaoshan or Parwan passes, which
were more direct. For many centuries, however, in mediaeval history the
Panjshir valley possessed such an evil reputation as the home of the
worst robbers in Asia, that a wide berth was given to it by casual
travellers. Timur Shah made good use of it for military purposes, as
we have seen, and latterly it has been improved into a fair commercial
high-road under Afghan engineers. The Panjshir inhabitants (once
Kafirs--now truculent Mohamedans) have been reduced to reason, and it
will be in the future what it has been in the ancient past--one of the
great khafila routes of Asia. When Wood crossed it in May it was not
really practicable for horses, and the party made their way across
with considerable difficulty. It is the altitude, and the altitude
alone, which renders it a formidable military barrier, and thus will
it remain as part of that great Hindu Kush wall which forms the
central obstruction of a buffer state.

Before taking leave of these two most successful (and most
trustworthy) explorers of Afghanistan, it may be useful to sum up
their views on that little-known region, Badakshan. The plains, the
useful and beautiful valleys of Badakshan, lie in the embrace of a
kind of mountain horse-shoe, which shuts them off from the Oxus on the
north-east and east and winds round to the Hindu Kush on the south.
The weak point of the semicircular barrier occurs at the junction with
the Hindu Kush, where the pass between Zebak and Ishkashm is only 8700
feet high. From the slopes of the Hindu Kush mountain torrents drain
down through the valleys of Zebak (called the Wardoj by Wood), the
Minjan (or Kokcha) and the Anjuman into the great central river of
Kokcha. Of these valleys, so far as we know, only the Wardoj is really
practicable as a northerly route to the Oxus. Shutting off the head of
the Kokcha system, a lateral range called Khoja Mahomed by Wood (a
name which ought to be preserved), in which are many magnificent
peaks, sends down its contributions north-west to the Kunduz. We know
nothing about these valleys, and Wood tells us nothing, but the
geographical inference is strong that all this part of upper
Badakshan, including the heads of the Kokcha and Kunduz affluents, is
but a wide inhospitable upland plateau of a conformation similar to
that which lies east and west of it, cut into deep furrows and
impassable gorges by the mountain streams which run thousands of feet
below the plateau level. Within it will almost certainly be traced in
due course of time the evidences of those primeval parallel folds, or
wrinkles, which form the basis of Himalayan construction. Probably the
Khoja Mahomed represents one of them, and the heads of the streams
which feed the Kokcha and the eastern affluents of the Kunduz will be
found (as already indicated in the Wardoj, or Zebak, stream) to take
their source in deep, lateral, ditch-like valleys, which, closely
underlying these folds, have been reshaped and altered by ages of
denudation and seismic destruction.

The few inhabitants who are hidden away in remote villages and hamlets
belong to the great Kafir community. This is a part of unexplored
Kafiristan rather than Badakshan, and he will be a bold man indeed who
undertakes its investigation. No Asiatic secret now held back from
view will command so much vivid interest in its unfolding as will the
ethnographical conditions of these people when we can really get at
them. This mountain region occupies a large share of Badakshan. The
rest of the plateau land to the west we know fairly well and have
sufficiently described. The wonder of the world is that the deeply
recessed valleys of it, the Bamian, Saighan, Kamard, Baghlan, and
Andarab depressions should have figured so largely in the world's
history. That a confined narrow ribbon of space such as Bamian,
difficult of access, placed by nature in the heart of a wilderness,
should have been the centre not only of a great kingdom but the focus
of a great religion, would be inexplicable if we did not remember that
through it runs the connecting link between the wealth of India and
the great cities of the Oxus plains and Central Asia.

The northern slopes and plains of Badakshan, between the mountains and
the Oxus, form part of a region which once represented the wealth of
civilization in Asia. The whole region was dotted with towns of
importance in mediaeval times, and the fame of its beauty and wealth
had passed down the ages from the days of Assyria and Greece to those
of the destroying Mongol hordes. From prehistoric times nations of the
west had planted colonies in Baktria, and here are to be gathered
together the threads of so many ethnographical survivals as may be
represented by the successive Empires of the West. Baktria is the
cradle of a marvellously mixed ethnography, and to all who have seen
the weird beauty of that strange land, the fascination which it has
ever possessed for the explorer and pilgrims is no matter of surprise.

A word or two must be added here about that previous explorer
(Moorcroft) in Northern Afghanistan whose fate was ascertained by
Lord. It is most unfortunate that some of the most important
manuscripts of this unfortunate Asiatic traveller were never
recovered, but his story has been written and will be referred to in
further detail. We have direct testimony to the fate which finally
overtook him in Dr. Lord's report of his visit to Mazar-i-Sharif,
which was made with the express purpose of recovering all the records
that might be traced of Moorcroft's travels in Afghan Turkistan.

A previous story of Moorcroft is highly interesting. An early Tibetan
explorer (the celebrated Abbe Huc) told a tale of a certain Englishman
named Moorcroft, who was reported to have lived in Lhasa for twelve
years previous to the year 1838 and who was supposed to have been
assassinated on his way back to India _via_ Ladak. The story was
circumstantial and attracted considerable attention. We know now from
a memorandum of Dr. Lord written in May 1838, that in the early spring
of that year when he and Lieut. Wood visited Mazar-i-Sharif they
discovered that the German companion of Moorcroft (Trebeck) had died
in that city, leaving amongst many loose records a slip of paper, with
the date September 6, 1825, thereon, noting the fact that "Mr. M."
(Moorcroft) "died on August 27th." Dr. Lord's investigations led him
to the conclusion that Moorcroft died at Andkhui, a victim "not more
to the baneful effects of the climate than to the web of treachery and
intrigue with which he found himself surrounded and his return cut
off." Trebeck, who seems to have been held in great estimation by the
Afghans, died soon after; neither traveller leaving any substantial
account of his adventures. Moorcroft's books (thirty volumes) were
recovered, and the list of them would surprise any modern traveller
who believes in a light and handy equipment. Dr. Lord's inquiries, in
my opinion, effectually dispose of the venerable Abbe's story of
Moorcroft's residence at Lhasa; although, of course, the record of his
visit to Western Tibet and the Manasarawar Lakes earlier in the
century must have been well enough known; and the Tibetans may
possibly have believed in a reincarnation of their one and only
European visitor in their own capital.

This chapter cannot be closed without a tribute of respect to those
most able and enterprising geographers who (chiefly as assistants to
Burnes) were the means of first giving to the world a reasonable
knowledge of the geography of Afghanistan. The names of Leech, Lord,
and Wood will always remain great in geographical story, and although
none of them individually (nor, indeed, all of them collectively)
covered anything like as wide an area as the American Masson, they
effected a far greater change in the maps of the period--for Masson
was no map-maker. As regards Sir Alexander Burnes, his initiative in
all that pertained to geographical exploration was great and valuable,
but he was individually more connected with the exploitation of
Central Asian and Persian geography than with that of Afghanistan.
Previous to the year 1836, when he undertook his political mission to
Kabul (and when he was travelling over comparatively old ground), he
had already extended his journeys across the Hindu Kush to the Oxus,
Bokhara, and Persia; and the book which he published in 1834 was a
revelation in Central Asian physiography and policy. But as an
explorer in Afghanistan he owed his information chiefly to his
assistants, and undoubtedly he was splendidly well served. The
ridiculous and costly impedimenta which seemed to be recognised as a
necessary accompaniment to a campaign or "an occupation" in those
days--the magnificent tents, the elephants, wives and nurseries and
retinue of military officers--found no place whatever in the
explorers' camps. Men were content to make their way from point to
point and take their chance of native hospitality. They lived with the
people amongst whom they moved, and they gradually became almost as
much of them as with them. Perhaps their views, political and social,
became somewhat too warmly tinted with local colour by these methods,
but undoubtedly they learned more and they saw more, and they acquired
a wider, deeper sympathy with native aspirations and native character
than is possible to travellers who move _en prince_ amongst a people
who only interest them as races dominating a certain section of the
mountains and plains of a strange world. All honour to the names of
Leech, Lord, and Wood--especially Wood.

FOOTNOTE:

[12] The latest reports indicate that there is now a road fit for
motor traffic between Kabul and Afghan Turkistan, as well as between
Kabul and Badakshan.




CHAPTER XIII

ACROSS AFGHANISTAN TO BOKHARA--MOORCROFT


One of the most disappointing of the early British explorers of our
Indian trans-frontier was Moorcroft. Disappointing, because he got so
little geographical information out of so large an area of adventure.
Moorcroft was a veterinary surgeon blessed with an unusually good
education and all the impulse of a nomadic wanderer. He was
Superintendent of the H.E.I. Company's stud at Calcutta, and his views
on agricultural subjects generally, especially the improvement of
stock, were certainly in advance of his time, although it seems
extraordinary that he should have sought further inspiration in the
wilds of the then unexplored trans-Himalayas or in Central Asia. The
Government of India were evidently sceptical as to the value of such
researches, and he received but cold comfort from their grudging
spirit of support, which ended in a threat to cut off his pay
altogether after a few years' sojourn in Ladak whilst studying the
elementary principles of Tibetan farming. Neither would they supply
him with the ample stock of merchandise which he asked for as a means
of opening up trade with those chilly countries; and when, finally, he
assumed the position of a high political functionary, and became the
vehicle of an offer to the Government of India of the sovereignty of
Ladak (which certainly might have led to complications with the Sikh
Government of the Punjab) he was rather curtly told to mind his own
business.

On the whole, it is tolerably clear that the Government represented by
old John Company was not much more favourable to irresponsible
travelling over the border and political intermeddling than is our
modern Imperial institution. However, the fact remains that Moorcroft
showed a spirit of daring enterprise, which led to the acquirement of
a vast amount of most important information about countries and
peoples contiguous to India of whom the Government of the time must
have been in utter ignorance. When he first exploited Ladak, Leh was
the _ultima thule_ of geographical investigation. What lay beyond it
was almost blank conjecture, and a residence of two years must have
ended in the amassing of a vast fund of useful information.
Unfortunately, much of that information was lost at his death, and the
correspondence and notes which came into the hands of his biographer
were of such a character--so extraordinarily discursive and frequently
so little relevant to the subject of his investigation--as to leave an
impression that Moorcroft was certainly eccentric in his
correspondence if not in more material ways. We get very little
original geographical suggestion from him; but his constant and
faithful companion Trebeck is much more consistent and careful in such
detail as we find due to his personal observation, and it is to
Trebeck rather than Moorcroft that the thanks of the Asiatic map-maker
are due. With the Ladak episodes of Moorcroft's career we have nothing
to do here, beyond noting that there is ample evidence that he never
reached Lhasa, and never resided there, in spite of the persistent
rumours which prevailed (even in Tibet) that a traveller of his name
had lived in the city. It is exceedingly difficult to account for this
rumour, unless indeed we credit the authors of it with a confusion of
ideas between Lhasa, the capital of Tibet proper, and Leh, the capital
of little Tibet.

The interest of Moorcroft's adventures so far as we are now concerned
commences with his journey from Peshawar to Kabul, Badakshan and
Bokhara in 1824, when he was undoubtedly the first in the field of
British Central Asiatic exploration. He owed his safe conduct from
Peshawar (which place he reached only after some most unpleasant
experiences in passing through the Sikh dominions of the Punjab) to a
political crisis. Dost Mahomed Khan was consolidating his power at
Kabul, but he had not then squared accounts with Habibullah the son of
the former governor, his deceased elder brother Mahomed Azim Khan; and
certain other members of his family (his brothers, Yar Mahomed, Pir
Mahomed, and Sultan Mahomed), who were governors in the Indus
provinces, thought it as well to step in and effect an arrangement. It
was their stately march to Kabul which was Moorcroft's opportunity.
Those were days when an Englishman was yet of interest to the Afghan
potentate, who knew not what turn of fortune's wheel might necessitate
an appeal for the intervention of the English.

Moorcroft did not love the Afghans, and between the unauthorised
robbers of the Kabul road and the official despoilers of the city he
paid dearly for the right of transit through Afghanistan of himself
and his merchandise. It was this assumed role of merchant (if indeed
it was assumed) that hampered Moorcroft from first to last in his
journeys beyond the frontier of British India. There was something to
be made out of him, either by fair means or foul, and the rapacious
exactions to which he was subjected were probably not in the least
modified by his obstinate refusals to meet what he considered unjust
demands. Invariably he had to pay in the end. His account of the road
to Kabul is interesting from the keen observation which he brought to
bear on his surroundings. He has much to say about the groups of
Buddhist buildings which are so marked a feature at various points of
the route, and his previous experiences in Tibet left him little room
for doubt as to the nature of them. It is strange that locally there
was not a tale to be told, not even a legend about them, which even
indefinitely maintained their Buddhist origin.

From Kabul Moorcroft succeeded in getting free with surprisingly
little difficulty, though several members of his party declined to go
farther. He gradually made his way by the Unai and Hajigak passes to
Bamian, and thence to Haibak and Balkh. He was not slow to recognize
the connection between the obvious Buddhist relics of Bamian and those
which he had seen on the Kabul road; and at Haibak he visited a tope
called Takht-i-Rustam (a generic name for these topes in Central Asia)
of which his description tallies more or less with that of Captain
Talbot, R.E., who unearthed what is probably the same relic some sixty
years later. To Moorcroft we owe the identification of Haibak with the
old mediaeval town of Semenjan, and he states that he was told on the
spot that this was its ancient name. No such name was recognised sixty
years later, but the evidence of Idrisi's records confirms the fact
beyond dispute.

We need not enter into details of this well-worn and often described
route. Moorcroft's best efforts were not directed to gazetteering, and
we have much abler and more complete accounts of it than his. After
passing the Ak Robat divide, Moorcroft found himself beyond Afghan
jurisdiction and within the reach of that historic Uzbek chieftain,
Murad Beg of Kunduz. Although Murad Beg was little better than a
successful freebooter, he is a personage who has left his own definite
mark on the history of days when British interest was just dawning on
the Oxus banks. Moorcroft fell into his hands, and in spite of
introductions he fared exceedingly badly. Indeed there can be little
doubt that the cupidity excited by the possibility of so much plunder
would have ended fatally for him, but for a happy inspiration which
occurred to him when his affairs appeared to be _in extremis_. With
great difficulty and at the peril of his life he made his way eastward
to Talikhan, where resided a saintly Pirzada, uncle of Murad Beg, the
one righteous man whose upright and dignified character redeemed his
people from the taint of utter barbarism and treachery. He had
discrimination enough to read Moorcroft aright, and at once
discountenanced the tales that had been assiduously set abroad of his
being a British spy upon the land; and he had firmness and authority
sufficient to deliver him from the rapacity of his truculent nephew,
and procure him freedom to depart after months of delay in the
pestilential atmosphere of Kunduz. Yet this grand old Mahomedan saint
patronised the institution of slavery, and was not above making a
profit out of it, though at the same time he firmly declined to
receive presents or have bribes for his good offices.

As other travellers following in Moorcroft's footsteps at no great
distance of time fell also into the hands of Murad Beg, and
experienced very different treatment, it is useful just to note
Moorcroft's description of him. He says: "I scarcely ever beheld a
more forbidding countenance. His extremely high cheekbones gave the
appearance to the skin of the face of its being unnaturally stretched,
whilst the narrowness of the lower jaw left scarcely room for the
teeth which were standing in all directions; he was extremely
near-sighted." Not an attractive description! The spring had well
advanced, and it was not till the middle of February 1825 that
Moorcroft was able to resume his journey to the Oxus. He travelled
from Kunduz to Tashkurghan and Mazar, and from the latter place he
followed the most direct route to Bokhara _via_ the Khwaja Salar ferry
across the Oxus, reaching Bokhara on February 25. Here his narrative
ends, and we only know from Dr. Lord and Wood that he returned from
Bokhara to Andkhui, and died there apparently of fever contracted in
Kunduz. He was buried near Balkh. Trebeck died soon after, and was
buried at Mazar-i-Sharif. Burnes visited and described the tombs of
both travellers, but they have long since disappeared.

As a geographer there is much that is wanting in the methods of this
most enterprising traveller, who at least pioneered the way to High
Asia from British India but who never made geographical exploration a
primary object of his labours. He was true to the last to his trade as
a student of agriculture, and it is in this particular, rather than
in the regions of geography or history, that the value of his studies
chiefly lies. He was the first to point out the general character of
that disastrous road to Kabul which has cost England so dear, and he
is still, with Burnes and Lord and Wood, our chief authority for the
general characteristics of Badakshan and of the Oxus valley east of
Balkh. He did not, however, touch the Oxus east of Khwaja Salar, and
consequently did not see or appreciate the great spread of splendid
pastoral country which lies between the pestilential marsh lands of
Kunduz and the river.

One would be apt to gather a pessimistic idea of lower Badakshan from
the pages of Moorcroft's story, which are undoubtedly tinted strongly
with the gloomy and grey colouring of his own unhappy experiences. Of
Balkh he has very little to say; he noted no antiquities about Balkh,
but he calls attention to the wide spaces covered with ruins which are
to be found at intervals scattered over the plains between Balkh and
the Oxus. It is a little difficult to follow his exact route across
the Oxus plains by the light of modern maps, but his Feruckabad is
probably our Feruk, and I gather that his Akbarabad is Akcha or
Akchaabad. The condition of Balkh, of Akcha, and of the ruin-studded
plains of the Oxus were evidently much the same in 1824 as they were
in 1884. Khwaja Salar (where Moorcroft crossed the Oxus in ferry-boats
drawn by horses) has since become historical. It was accepted in the
Anglo-Russian protocols defining the Afghan boundary as an important
point in the Russo-Afghan boundary delimitation, but it was not to be
found. Moorcroft gives a very good reason for its disappearance, by
stating that the place was razed to the ground just the day before he
arrived there. Since then the ruins of the old village have been
devoured by the shifting Oxus, and nothing but a ziarat at some
distance from the river remains as a record of the distinguished saint
who gave it its name.




CHAPTER XIV

BURNES


No traveller who ever returned to his country with tales of stirring
adventure ever attracted more interest, or even astonishment, than
Lieut. Alexander Burnes. He published his story in 1835, when the Oxus
regions of Asia were but vaguely outlined and shadowy geography. It
did not matter that they had been the scene of classical history for
more than 2000 years, and that the whole network of Oxus roads and
rivers had been written about and traversed by European hosts for
centuries before our era. That story belonged to a buried past, and
the British occupation of India had come about in modern history by
way of the sea. England and Russia were then searching forward into
Central Asia like two blind wrestlers in the dark, feeling their
ground before them ere they came to grips. A veil of mystery hung over
these highlands, a geographical fog that had thickened up, with just a
thinner space in it here and there, where a gleam of light had
penetrated, but never dispersed it, since the days when Assyrian and
Persian, Skyth, Greek, and Mongul wandered through the highest of
Asiatic highways at their own sweet will.

In the present year of grace and of red tape bindings to most books of
Asiatic travels, when the best of the geographical information
accumulated by the few who bear with them the seal of officialdom is
pigeon-holed for a use that never will be made of it, it is quite
refreshing to fall back on these most entertaining records of men who
(whether official or otherwise) all travelled under the same
conditions of association with the natives of the country they
traversed, accepting their hospitality, speaking their language,
assuming their manners and dress, and passing with the crowd (and with
the crowd only) as casual wayfarers. The fact of their European origin
was almost always suspected, if not known, to certain of the better
informed of their Asiatic hosts, but they were seldom given away. It
was nobody's business to quarrel with England then. A hundred years
ago the military credit of England stood high, and the irrepressible
advance of the red line of the British India-border impressed the mind
of the Asiatic of the highlands beyond the plains as evidence of an
irresistible power. Russia then made no such impression. She was still
far off, and the ties of commerce bound the Oxus Khanates to India,
even when Russian goods were in Asiatic markets. The bankers of the
country were Hindus--traders from the great commercial centre of
Shikarpur. It is strange to read of this constant contact with Hindus
in every part of Central Asia in those days, when the _hundi_ (or
bill) of a Shikarpur banker was as good as a letter of credit in any
bazaar as far as the Russian border. The power of England in India
undoubtedly loomed much larger in Asiatic eyes before the disasters of
the first Afghan war, and Englishmen of the type of Burnes, Christie,
Pottinger, Vigne, and Broadfoot were able to carry out prolonged
journeys through districts that are certainly not open to English
exploration now. Even were English officers to-day free under existing
political conditions to travel beyond the British border at all, it is
doubtful whether any disguise would serve as a protection.

The day has passed for such ventures as those of Burnes, and we must
turn back a page or two in geographical history if we wish to
appreciate the full value of British enterprise in exploring
Afghanistan. Undoubtedly Burnes ranks high as a geographer and
original pioneer. The fact that there is little or nothing left of the
scene of his travels in 1830-32 and 1833 which has not been reduced to
scientific mapping now, does not in any way detract from the merit of
his early work; although it must be confessed that the perils of
disguise prevented the use of any but the very crudest methods of
ascertaining position and distance, and his map results would, in
these days, be regarded as disappointing. Sind and the Punjab being
trans-border lands, there were always useful and handy opportunities
for teaching the enterprising subaltern of Bombay Infantry how to
travel intelligently; with the natural result that no corps in the
world possessed a more splendid record of geographical achievement
than the Bombay N.I.

Burnes began well in the Quartermaster-General's department, and was
soon entrusted with political power. Full early in his career he was
despatched with an enterprising sailor, Lieut. Wood, on a voyage up
the Indus which was to determine the commercial possibilities of its
navigation, and which did in fact lead to the formation of the Indus
flotilla--some fragments of which possibly exist still. It is most
interesting to read the able reports compiled by these young officers;
and one might speculate idly as to the feelings with which they would
now learn that within half a century their flotilla had come and gone,
superseded by one of the best paying of Indian railways. Their
feelings would probably be much the same as ours could we see fifty
years hence a well-established electric train service between Kabul
and Peshawar, and a double or treble line of rails linking up Russia
with India _via_ Herat. We shall not see it. It will be left to
another generation to write of its accomplishment.

Searching the archives of the Royal Geographical Society for the story
of Burnes the traveller (apart from the voluminous records of Burnes
the diplomat), I came across a book with this simple inscription on
the title-page: "To the Royal Geographical Society of London, with the
best wishes for its prosperity by the Author." This is Vol. I. of
Burnes' Travels. It is written in the attenuated, pointed, and
ladylike style which was the style of the very early Victorian era. It
hardly leads to an impression of forceful and enterprising character.

On January 2, 1831, Burnes made his first plunge into the wilderness
which lay between him and Lahore, the capital of the Sikh kingdom, and
he entered that city on the 17th. There he was most hospitably
received by the French officers in the service of Ranjit Singh,
Messieurs Allard and Court, and was welcomed by the Maharaja Ranjit
Singh, who treated him with "marked affability." Burnes was
accompanied by Dr. Gerard, and the two travellers were taken by Ranjit
Singh to a hunting party in the Punjab, a description of which serves
as a forcible illustration of the changes which less than one century
of British administration has effected in the plains of India. Never
will its like be seen again in the Land of the Five Rivers. The
guests' tents were made of Kashmir shawls, and were about 14 feet
square. One tent was red and the other white, and they were connected
by tent-walls of the same material, shaded by a _Shamiana_ supported
on silver-mounted poles. In each tent stood a camp-bed with Kashmir
shawl curtains. It was, as Burnes remarks, not an encampment suited to
the Punjab jungles; and the hunting procession headed by the
Maharaja, dressed in a tunic of green shawls, lined with fur, his
dagger studded with the richest brilliants, and a light metal shield,
the gift of the ex-king of Kabul (Shah Sujah, who, it will be
remembered, also surrendered the Koh-i-Nor diamond to Ranjit Singh
about this time), as the finishing touch to his equipment, must have
been quite melodramatic in its effects of colour and movement. It was,
as a matter of fact, a pig-sticking expedition, but the game fell to
the sword rather than to the spear; such of it, that is to say, as was
not caught in traps. The party was terminated by a hog-baiting
exhibition, in which dogs were used to worry the captive pigs, after
the latter were tied by one leg to a stake. When the pigs were
sufficiently infuriated, the entertainment concluded with letting them
loose through the camp, in order, as Ranjit said, "that men might
praise his humanity."

Such episodes, however they might beguile the journey to the Afghan
frontier, belong to other histories than that of Afghan exploration,
and little more need be said of Burnes' experiences before reaching
the Afghan city of Peshawar, than that he experienced very different
treatment _en route_ to that which made Moorcroft's journey both
perilous and disheartening. In Peshawar the two brothers of Dost
Mahomed Khan (Sultan Mahomed and Pir Mahomed) seem to have rivalled
each other in courtly attentions to their guests, and Burnes was as
much enchanted with this garden of the North-West as any traveller of
to-day would be, provided that his visit were suitably timed. Burnes
thus sums up his impression of Ranjit Singh: "I never quitted the
presence of a native of Asia with such impressions as I left this man;
without education, and without a guide, he conducts all the affairs of
his kingdom with surpassing energy and vigour, and yet he wields his
power with a moderation quite unprecedented in an Eastern prince."

On leaving Lahore Burnes received this salutary advice from M. Court,
packed in a French proverb, "Si tu veux vivre en paix en voyageant,
fais en sorte de hurler comme les loups avec qui tu te trouves." And
he set himself to conform to this text (and to the excellent sermon
which accompanied it) with a determination which undoubtedly served as
the foundation of his remarkable success as a traveller. It cannot be
too often insisted that the experiences of intelligent and cultivated
Europeans in the days of close association with the Asiatic led to an
appreciation of native character and to an intimacy with native
methods, which is only to be found in India now amongst missionaries
and police officers, if it is to be found at all. But even with all
the advantages possessed by such experiences as those of Burnes and of
the intrepid school of Asiatic travellers of his time, it required an
intuitive discernment almost amounting to genius to detect the motive
springs of Eastern political action.

It may be doubted (as Masson doubted) whether to the day of his death
Burnes himself quite understood either the Afghan or the Sikh. But he
vigorously conformed to native usages in all outward show: "We threw
away all our European clothes and adopted without reserve the costume
of the Asiatic. We gave away our tents, beds, and boxes, and broke our
tables and chairs--a blanket serves to cover the saddle and to sleep
under.... The greater portion of my now limited wardrobe found a place
in the 'kurjin.' A single mule carried the whole of the baggage."
Armed with letters of introduction from a holy man (Fazl Haq), who
boasted a horde of disciples in Bokhara, and with all the graceful
good wishes which an Afghan potentate knows how to bestow, Burnes left
Peshawar and the two Afghan sirdars, and started for Kabul. It is
instructive to note that he avoided the Khaibar route, which had an
evil reputation.

It would be interesting to trace Burnes' route from Peshawar to
Bokhara, _via_ Kabul and Bamian, were it not that we are dealing with
ground already sufficiently well discussed in these pages. Moreover,
Burnes travelled to Kabul in company which permitted him to make
little or no use of his opportunities for original geographical
research. After he left Kabul the vicissitudes and difficulties that
beset him were only such as might be experienced by any recognised
official political mission, and he experienced none of the vexatious
opposition and delay which was so fatal to Moorcroft. _En route_ he
passed through Bamian, Haibak, Khulm, and Balkh; he visited Kunduz,
and identified the tomb of Trebeck at Mazar; and by the light of a
brilliant moon he stood by the grave of Moorcroft, which he found
under a wall outside the city, apart from the Mussulman cemeteries.
The three days passed at Balkh were assiduously employed in local
investigation and the collection of coins and relics. He found coins,
or tokens, dating from early Persian occupation to the Mogul
dynasties, and he notes the size of the bricks and their shape, which
he describes as oblong approaching to square; but he mentions no
inscriptions.

At this time Balkh was in the hands of the Bokhara chief, and Burnes
was already in Bokhara territory. The journey across the plains to the
Oxus was made on camels, Burnes being seated in a kajawa, and
balancing his servant on the other side. It was slow, but it gave him
the opportunity of overlooking the broad Oxus plain and noting the
general accuracy of the description given of it by Quintus Curtius. As
they approached the Oxus it was found necessary to employ a Turkman
guard. Burnes does not say from what Turkman tribe his guard was
taken, but from his description of them, their dress, equipment, and
steeds, they were clearly men of the same Ersari tribe that was found
fifty years later in the same neighbourhood by the Russo-Afghan
Boundary Commission. "They rode good horses and were armed with a
sword and long spear. They were not encumbered with shields and
powder-horns like other Asiatics, and only a few had matchlocks....
They never use more than a single rein, which sets off their horses to
advantage."

On the banks of the river they halted near the small village of Khwaja
Salar. This was the same place evidently that Moorcroft visited, and
which he described as destroyed in a raid; and it was here that Burnes
made use of the peculiar horse-drawn ferry which has already been
described. Fifty years later the ferry was at Kilif, and nothing was
to be found of the "village" of Khwaja Salar. Burnes' astonishment at
the quaint, but most efficient, method of utilizing the power of
swimming horses to haul the great ferry-boats has been shared by every
one who has seen them since; but he noted a fact which has not been
observed by other travellers, viz. that _any_ horse was taken for the
purpose, no matter whether trained or not; and he states that the
horses were yoked to the boat by a rope fixed to the hair of the mane.
If so, this method was improved on during the next half-century, for
the rope is now attached to a surcingle. "One of the boats was dragged
over by two of our jaded ponies; and the vessel which attempted to
follow us without them was carried so far down the stream as to detain
us a whole day on the banks till it could be brought up to the camp
of our caravan." The river at this point is about 800 yards wide, and
runs at the rate of three to four miles an hour. The crossing was
effected in fifteen minutes. Burnes adds: "I see nothing to prevent
the general adoption of this expeditious mode of crossing a river....
I had never before seen the horse converted to such a use; and in my
travels through India I had always considered that noble animal as a
great encumbrance in crossing a river." And yet after two centuries of
military training in the plains of India, we English have not yet
arrived at this economical use of this great motive power always at
our command in a campaign!

After passing the Oxus the chief interest of Burnes' story commences.
His life at Bokhara and his subsequent journey through the Turkman
deserts to Persia form a record which, combined with his own physical
capability, his energy, and his unfailing tact, good humour, and
modesty, stamp him as one of the greatest of English travellers. His
name has its own high place in geographical annals. We shall never
cease to admire the traveller, whatever we may think of the diplomat.
But once over the Oxus his story hardly concerns the gates of India.
He was beyond them, he had passed through, and was now on the far
landward side, still on a road to India; but it is a road over which
it no longer concerns us to follow him.




CHAPTER XV

THE GATES OF GHAZNI--VIGNE


Amongst original explorers of Afghanistan place must be found for G.
T. Vigne, who made in 1836 a venturesome, and, as it proved, a most
successful exploration of the Gomul route from the Indus to Ghazni.
Vigne was not a professional geographer so much as a botanist and
geologist, and the value of his work lies chiefly in the results of
his researches in those two branches of science, although he has left
on record a map of his journey which quite sufficiently illustrates
his route. He had previously visited Ladak (Little Tibet) and Kashmir,
and had made passing acquaintance with the Chief of the Punjab, Ranjit
Singh, in whose service foreigners found honourable employment. Masson
was in the field at the same time as Vigne, and the success of his
antiquarian researches in Northern Afghanistan, as well as those of
Honigberger and other archaeologists during the time that Dost Mahomed
ruled in Kabul, and whilst the Amir's brother, Jabar Khan, befriended
Europeans, indicated a very different political atmosphere from that
which has subsequently clouded the Afghan horizon, so far as European
travellers are concerned.

Vigne found no difficulty whatever in passing through Punjab territory
to the Indus Valley near Dera Ismail Khan, where he joined a Lohani
khafila which was making its annual journey to Ghazni with a valuable
stock of merchandise consisting chiefly of English goods. In the
genial month of May the khafila left Draband and took the world-old
Gomul route through the frontier hills to the central uplands of
Afghanistan. The heat must have been awful, and as Vigne lived the
life of the Lohani merchants, and shared their primitive shelter from
day to day, it is not surprising that we find him complaining gently
of the climate. The Lohanis treated him with the utmost kindness and
consideration from first to last; and the story of his travels is in
pleasing contrast to the tale told by Masson about the same time, of
his adventures on the Kandahar side. This was due chiefly, no doubt,
to Vigne's success as a doctor. It is always the doctors who make the
best way amongst uncivilized peoples, and India especially (or rather
the British Raj in India) owes almost as much to doctors as to
politicians. There is also a fellow-feeling which binds together
travellers of all sorts and conditions when bound for the same bourne,
taking together the same risks, experiencing the same trials and
difficulties, and enjoying unrestrained intercourse. This kind of
fellowship is world wide. One can trace a genial spirit of
_camaraderie_ pervading the wanderings of Chinese pilgrims, the tracks
of mediaeval Arab merchants, the ways of modern missionaries, or the
ocean paths of sailors. Once on the move, with the sweet influences of
primitive nature pervading earth and air around, we may find, even in
these days, that the Afghan becomes quite a sociable companion, and
that he is to be trusted so far as he gives his word.

Vigne seems to have had no trouble whatever except such as arose from
the persistent neglect of his medical instructions in cases of severe
illness. As the khafila followed the Gomul River closely, it was, of
course, subject to attack from the irrepressible Waziris on its flank,
and had to pay heavy duties to the Suliman Khel Ghilzais as soon as it
touched their country. There is little change in these respects since
1836, except that the Gomul route has been made plain and easy through
the first bands of frontier hills till it reaches the plateau, and the
Waziris are under better control. The interest of the journey lies in
that section of it which connects Domandi (the junction of the Gomul
and the Kundar Rivers) with Ghazni. This central part of Afghanistan
has never yet been surveyed. From the Takht-i-Suliman a few peaks have
been indifferently fixed on the ridges which form the divide between
the Gomul and the Ghazni drainage, but the hilly country beyond,
stretching to the Ghazni plain, is absolutely unreconnoitred. We have
still to appeal to Broadfoot and Vigne for geographical authority in
these regions, although native information (but not native surveyors)
has furnished details of a route which sufficiently corresponds with
that of both these enterprising travellers.

There is some confusion about dates in Vigne's account, but it appears
that the khafila reached the Sarwandi Pass (which he calls
Sir-i-koll--7200 feet) over the central divide on the 12th June, and
thence descended into the Kattawaz country on the Ghazni side of this
central water-parting. About this region we have no accurate
geographical knowledge. Beyond the Sarwandi ridge, and intervening
between it and Ghazni, is a secondary pass, called Gazdarra in our
maps, crossing a ridge near the northern foot of which is Dihsai (the
nearest approach to Vigne's Dshara), which was reached by Vigne on the
16th June. Probably the two names represent the same place.

Vigne's description of the central Sarwandi ridge corresponds
generally with what we know in other parts of the nature of those long
sweeping folds which traverse the central plateau from north-east to
south-west, preserving more or less a direction parallel to the
frontier. He writes of it as a broken and tumbled mass of sandstone,
but about "Dshara" he speaks of gently undulating hills exhibiting
small peaks of limestone and denuded patches of shingle. Between the
Sarwandi and the Dshara ridge the plain was covered with glittering
sand and was sweet with the scent of wild thyme. Somewhere on the
"level-topped" Sarwandi ridge there was said to be the ruins of an
ancient city called Zohaka, with gates of burnt brick, which Vigne did
not see, but in his map he indicates a position for it a long way to
the east of the ridge. It is quite probable that the ruins of more
than one ancient city are to be found in the neighbourhood of this
very ancient highway. Ancient as it is, however, it formed no part of
the mediaeval commercial system of the Arabs--a system which apparently
did not include the frontier passes into India; and I have failed to
identify Vigne's Zohaka with any previous indications. These uplands
to the south of Ghazni evidently partake of the general
characteristics of the Wardak and Logar Valleys beyond them,
intervening between Ghazni and Kabul. Vigne was enchanted with the
prospect around him, and with the clear sweet atmosphere filled with
the aroma of wild thyme, wormwood, and the scented willow. It has
charmed many a weary soldier since his time.

At Dshara, finding that the Lohani khafila was not going to Ghazni but
intended to follow a straighter route to Kabul, whilst at the same
time a very ready and profitable business was being done in the
well-populated valleys around, Vigne set off by himself with one
Kizzilbash guide for Ghazni. He says many hard things of the Lohanis
for breaking their promise of escort to Ghazni, remarks which seem
scarcely to accord with his free acknowledgments of their great
kindness to him elsewhere. As the opinion of so observant a traveller,
sharing the trials of the road with a band of native merchants, is
always interesting when it concerns the company with which he was
associated, I will quote his opinion of the Lohanis. "Taking them
altogether, I look on the Lohanis as the most respectable of the
Mahomedans and the most worthy of the notice and assistance of our
countrymen. The Turkish gentleman is said to be a man of his word; he
must be an enviable exception; but I otherwise solemnly believe that
there is not a Mahomedan--Sunni or Shiah--between Constantinople and
Yarkand who would hesitate to cheat a Feringi, Frank or European, and
who would not lie and scheme and try to deceive when the temptation
was worth his doing so," etc. This, of course, includes the Lohanis.

At Ghazni, Vigne found a servant of Moorcroft's, who gave him
interesting information about the travels of that unfortunate
explorer; and he takes some useful notes of the present military
position and former condition of that city before its utter
destruction by Allah-u-din, Ghuri. He determined to depart somewhat
from the regular route to Kabul, and diverged from the straight road
which runs to the Sher-i-dahan in order to visit the "bund-i-sultan,"
or reservoir, which had been constructed by Mahmud on the Ghazni River
for the proper water-supply of the town in its palmy days. As his last
day's travel took him to Lungar and Maidan before reaching Kabul he
evidently made a considerable detour westward. He inspected a copper
mine (with which he was greatly disappointed) at a place called Shibar
_en route_. To reach Shibar he made a long day's march from Ser-ab (?
Sar-i-ab), near the head of the Logar River. It is difficult to trace
this part of his route by the light of the map which he borrowed from
Honigberger. He clearly followed up the Ghazni River nearly to its
source, and then struck across to the head of the Logar, where he
correctly places Ser-ab, and where he found an agent of Masson's
engaged in excavating a tope. He next visited Shibar, and finally
marched by Lungar to Maidan and Kabul. He must, therefore, have
crossed the divide between the Ghazni River and the Logar, but we fail
to follow him to the Shibar copper mine.

Shibar is the name of the pass which divides the Turkistan drainage
from the Ghorband, or Kabul, system; but it would be totally
impracticable to reach that point in a day's excursion from Ser-ab. We
must, therefore, conclude that there is another Shibar somewhere,
undetected by our surveyors.

At Kabul he received a hospitable welcome from the Nawab Jabar Khan,
brother of the Amir Dost Mahomed, and here he fell in with Masson. We
need not trace his journey farther, for his subsequent footsteps only
followed the well-worn tracks to the Punjab. To Vigne we owe a vague
reference to a yet earlier English traveller in Afghanistan, one
Hicks, who died and was buried near the Peshawar gate of the old city.
The inscription on his tomb in English was--

     HICKS, SON OF WILLIAM AND ELIZABETH HICKS,

and Vigne adds that "by its date he must have lived a hundred and
fifty years ago." This is the earliest record we have of an English
traveller reaching Kabul, and it is strange that nothing is known
about Hicks, who certainly could not have inscribed his own epitaph!
The remarkable feature about the tomb is that such a memorial of a
Christian burial should have remained so long unmolested in a Moslem
country. No vestige of the tomb was discovered during the occupation
of Kabul in 1879-80.




CHAPTER XVI

ENGLISH OFFICIAL EXPLORATION--BROADFOOT


In the year 1839 and in the month of October Lieut. J. S. Broadfoot of
the Indian Engineers made a memorable excursion across Central
Afghanistan, intervening between Ghazni and the Indus Valley, which
resulted in the acquisition of much information about one of the gates
of India which is too little known. No one has followed his tracks
since with any means of making a better reconnaissance, nor has any
one added much to the information obtained by him. It is true that
Vigne had been over the ground before him, but there is no comparison
between the use which Broadfoot made of his opportunities and the
geography which Vigne secured. Both took their lives in their hands,
but Vigne passed along with his Lohani khafila in days preceding the
British occupation of Afghanistan. There was no fanatical hostility
displayed towards him. On the contrary, his medical profession was a
recommendation which won him friends and good fellowship all along the
line. A few years had much changed the national (if one can use such
a word with regard to Afghanistan) feeling towards the European. From
day to day, and almost from hour to hour, Broadfoot felt that his life
hung on the chances of the moment. He was told by friends and enemies
alike that he would most certainly be killed. Yet he survived to do
good service in other fields, and to maintain the reputation of that
most distinguished branch of the military service, the Indian
Engineers. Broadfoot was but typical of his corps, even in the
scientific ability displayed in his researches, the clearness and the
soundness of the views he expresses, the determined pluck of his
enterprise, and his knowledge of native life and character. Durand,
North, Leach, and Broadfoot were Lieutenants of Engineers at the same
time, and their reports and their work are all historical records.

Previously to his start on the Gomul reconnaissance Broadfoot had the
opportunity of reconnoitring much of the country to the south of
Ghazni bordering the Kandahar-Ghazni route. He had, therefore, a very
fair acquaintance with the people with whom he had to deal, and a
fairly well fixed point of departure for his work. His methods were
the time-honoured methods of many past generations of explorers. He
took his bearings with the prismatic compass, and he reckoned his
distance by the mean values obtained from three men pacing.
Consequently, he could not pretend, in such circumstances as he was
placed (being hardly able to leave his tent in spite of his disguise),
to complete much in the way of topography; but his clear description
of the ground he passed over, and the people he passed amongst,
furnishes nearly all that is necessary to enable us to realise the
practical value and the political difficulty of that important line of
communication with Central Afghanistan.

From Ghazni southwards to Pannah there is nothing but open plain. From
near Pannah to the Sarwandi Pass, which crosses the main divide (the
Kohnak range) between the Helmund and the Indus basins, there is much
of the ridge and furrow formation which distinguishes the
north-western frontier, the alignment of the ridges being from N.E. to
S.W., but the Gazdarra Pass over the Kattawaz ridge is not formidable,
and the road along the plain of Kattawaz is open. In Kattawaz were
groups of villages, denoting a settled population, and as much
cultivation as might be possible amidst a lawless, crop-destroying,
and raiding generation of Ghilzais.

"Kattasang, as viewed from Dand" (on the northern side) "appears a
mass of undulating hills, and as bare as a desert; it is the resort in
summer of some pastoral families of Suliman Khels." Approaching the
main divide of Sarwandi by the Sargo Pass two forts are passed near
Sargo, which sufficiently well illustrate the characteristics of
perpetual feud common to clans or families of the Ghilzai fraternity.
The forts are close to each other; one of them is known as Ghlo kala
(thieves' fort), but they are probably both equally worthy of the
name. The inhabitants of these forts absolutely destroyed each other
in a family feud, so that nothing now remains. Their very waters have
dried up.

Near the Sargo, on the Ghazni side of the Sarwandi Pass, is Schintza,
at which place Vigne also halted, and from Schintza commences the real
ascent to the Sarwandi. The ascent, and indeed the crossing
altogether, are described by Broadfoot as easy. Vigne does not say
much about this. From the foot of the Sarwandi one branch of the Gomul
takes off, and from that point to the Indus the great trade route
practically follows the Gomul on a gradually descending grade. It is a
stony, rough, and broken hill route, now expanding into a broad track
of river-bed, now contracting into a cliff-bordered gully,
occasionally leaving the river and running parallel over adjoining
cliffs, but more often involving the worry of perpetual crossing and
re-crossing of the stream. Here and there is an expansion (such as the
"flower-bed," Gulkatz) into a reed-covered flat, and occasionally
there occurs a level open border space which the blackened stones of
previous khafilas denote as a camping-ground. Wild and dreary, carving
its way beneath the heat-cracked and rain-seared foot-hills of
Waziristan, strewn with stones and boulders, and disfigured by
leprous outbreaks of streaky white efflorescence, the Gomul in the hot
weather is not an attractive river. In flood-time it is dangerous, and
it is in the hottest of the hot weather months that the route is
fullest of the moving khafila crowds.

In Broadfoot's time the worst part of the route was between the
plateau and the Indus plains. This is no longer so, for a
trade-developing and road-making Government has made the rough places
plain, and engineered a first-class high-road thus far. And there is
this to be noted about that section of it which still lies beyond the
ken of the frontier officer and which as yet the surveyor has not
mapped. Not a single camel-load in Broadfoot's khafila had to be
shifted on account of the roughness of the route between Ghazni and
the Indus, and not a space of any great length occurred over which
guns might not easily pass. The drawback to the route as a high-road
for trade has ever been the blackmailing propensities of Waziris and
cognate tribes who flank the route on either side. Broadfoot's khafila
lost no less than 100 men in transit; but this was at a time when the
country was generally disturbed. In more peaceful days previously
Vigne refers to constant losses both of men and property, but to
nothing like so great an extent.

Broadfoot still stands for our authority in all that pertains to the
central Afghan tribes-people--chiefly the Suliman Khel clan of
Ghilzais--who occupy the Highlands between Waziristan and Ghazni.
Under the iron heel of the late Amir of Afghanistan no doubt much of
their turbulent and feud-loving propensities has been repressed, and
with its repression has followed a development of agriculture, and a
general improvement throughout the favoured districts of Kattawaz and
the Ghazni plain. Here the climate is exceptionally invigorating, and
much of the sweet landscape beauty of the adjoining districts of
Wardak and Logar (two of the loveliest valleys of Afghanistan) is
evidently repeated. Several fine rivers traverse these uplands, the
Jilgu and the Dwa Gomul (both rising from the central divide near to
the sources of the Tochi) having much local reputation, and claiming a
crude sort of reverence from the wild tribes of the plateau which is
only accorded to the gifts of Allah. The Suliman Khel are not
nomads--though like all Afghans they love tents--and their villages,
clinging to wall-sides or clustering round a central tower, are well
built and often exceedingly picturesque. The Ghilzai skill at the
construction of these underground irrigation channels called karez is
famous throughout Afghanistan. It is, however, the more westerly clans
who especially excel in the development of water-supply. The Suliman
Khel and the Nasirs take more kindly to the khafila and "povindah"
form of life, and this Gomul route is the very backbone of their
existence. It is a pity that we know so little about it.




CHAPTER XVII

FRENCH EXPLORATION--FERRIER


Amongst modern explorers of Afghanistan who have earned distinction by
their capacity for single-handed geographical research and ability in
recording their experiences, the French officer M. Ferrier is one of
the most interesting and one of the most disappointing. He is
interesting in all that relates to the historical and political
aspects of Afghanistan at a date when England was specially concerned
with that country, and so far and so long as his footsteps can now be
traced with certainty on our recent maps, he is clearly to be credited
with powers of accurate observation and a fairly retentive memory. It
is just where, as a geographer, he leaves the known for the unknown,
and makes a plunge into a part of the country which no European has
actually traversed before or since, that he becomes disappointing. He
is the only known wanderer from the west who has traversed the uplands
of the Firozkohi plateau from north to south; and it is just that
region of the Upper Murghab basin which our surveyors were unable to
reach during the progress of the Russo-Afghan Boundary mapping. The
rapidity of the movements of the Commission when once it got to work
precluded the possibility, with only a weak staff of topographers, of
detailing native assistants to map every corner of that most
interesting district, and naturally the more important section of the
country received the first attention. But they closed round it so
nearly as to leave but little room for pure conjecture, and it is
quite possible to verify by local evidence the facts stated by
Ferrier, if not actually to trace out his route and map it.

M. Ferrier's career was a sufficiently remarkable one. He served with
the French army in Africa, and was delegated with other officers to
organise the Persian army. Here he was regarded by the Russian
Ambassador as hostile to Russian interests, and the result was his
return to France in 1843, where he obtained no satisfaction for his
grievances. Deciding to take service with the Punjab Government under
the Regency which succeeded Ranjit Singh, he left France for Bagdad
and set out from that city in 1845 for a journey through Persia and
Afghanistan to India.

Ferrier reached Herat seven years after the siege of that place by the
Persians, and four years after the British evacuation of Afghanistan,
and his story of interviews with that wily politician, Yar Mahomed
Khan, are most entertaining. It is satisfactory to note that the
English left on the whole a good reputation behind them. His attempt
to reach Lahore _via_ Balkh and Kabul was frustrated, and he was
forced off the line of route connecting Balkh with Kabul at what was
then the Afghan frontier. It was at this period of his travels that
his records become most interesting, as he was compelled to pass
through the Hazara country to the west of Kabul by an unknown route
not exactly recognisable, crossing the Firozkohi plateau and
descending through the Taimani country to Ghur. From Ghur he was sent
back to Herat, and so ended a very remarkable tour through an
absolutely unexplored part of Afghanistan. His final effort to reach
the Punjab by the already well-worn roads which lead by Kandahar and
Shikarpur was unsuccessful. Considering the risks of the journey, it
was a surprising attempt. It was in the course of this adventure that
he came across some of the ill-starred remnants of the disasters which
attended the British arms during the evacuation of Afghanistan. There
were apparently Englishmen in captivity in other parts of Afghanistan
than the north, and the fate of those unfortunate victims to the
extraordinary combination of political and military blundering which
marked those eventful years is left to conjecture.

Such in brief outline was the story of Afghan exploration as it
concerned this gallant French officer, and from it we obtain some
useful geographical and antiquarian suggestions. The province of
Herat he regards as coincident with the Aria of the Greek historians,
and the Aria metropolis (or Artakoana) he considers might be
represented either by Kuhsan or by Herat itself. He expends a little
useless argument in refuting the common Afghan tradition that any part
of modern Herat was built by Alexander. Between the twelfth century
and the commencement of the seventeenth Herat has been sacked and
rebuilt at least seven times, and its previous history must have
involved many other radical changes since the days of Alexander. It
is, however, probable that the city has been built time after time on
the site which it now occupies, or very near it. The vast extent of
mounds and other evidences of ancient occupation to the north of it,
together with its very obvious strategic importance, give this
position a precedence in the district which could never have been
overlooked by any conqueror; but the other cities of Greek geography,
Sousa and Candace, are not so easy to place. Ferrier may be right in
his suggestion that Tous (north-west of Mashad) represents the Greek
Sousa, but he is unable to place Candace. To the west of Herat are
three very ancient sites, Kardozan, Zindajan (which Ferrier rightly
identified with the Arab city of Bouchinj), and Kuhsan, and Candace
might have stood where any of them now stand.

Ferrier's description of Herat and its environment fully sustains Sir
Henry Rawlinson's opinion of him as an observant traveller. For a
simple soldier of fortune he displays remarkable erudition, as well as
careful observation, and there is hardly a suggestion which he makes
about the Herat of 1845 which subsequent examination did not justify
in 1885. It was the custom during the residence of the English Mission
under Major d'Arcy Todd in Herat for some, at least, of the leading
Afghan chiefs to accept invitations to dinner with the English
officers, a custom which promoted a certain amount of mutual
good-fellowship between Afghans and English, of which the effects had
not worn off when Ferrier was there. When, finally, Yar Mahomed was
convinced that Ferrier had no ulterior political motive for his visit,
and was persuaded to let him proceed on his journey, a final dinner
was arranged, at which Ferrier was the principal guest. It appears to
have been a success. "At the close of the repast the guests were
incapable of sitting upright, and at two in the morning I left these
worthy Mussulmans rolling on the carpet! The following day I prepared
for my departure." In 1885 manners and methods had changed for the
better. The English officers employed on the reorganisation of the
defences of the city were occasionally entertained at modest
tea-parties by the Afghan military commandant, but no such rollicking
proceedings as those recounted by Ferrier would ever have been
countenanced; and it must be confessed that Ferrier's accounts, both
here and elsewhere, of the social manners and customs of the Afghan
people are a little difficult to accept without reservation. We must,
however, make allowances for the times and the loose quality of Afghan
government. He left Herat by the northerly route, passing Parwana, the
Baba Pass, and the Kashan valley to Bala Murghab and Maimana.

Ferrier has much to say that is interesting about the tribal
communities through which he passed, especially about the Chahar
Aimak, or wandering tent-living tribes, which include the Hazaras,
Jamshidis, Taimanis, and Firozkohis. He is, I think, the first to draw
attention to the fact that the Firozkohis are of Persian origin, a
people whose forefathers were driven by Tamerlane into the mountains
south of Mazanderan, and were eventually transported into the Herat
district. They spring from several different Persian tribes, and take
the name Firozkohi from "a village in the neighbourhood of which they
were surrounded and captured." The origin of the name Ferozkohi has
always been something of a geographical puzzle, and it is doubtful
whether there was ever a city originally of that name in Afghanistan,
although it may have been applied to the chief habitat of this
agglomeration of Persian refugees and colonists.

Ferrier's account of his progress includes no geographical data worthy
of remark. Politically, this part of Afghan Turkistan has remained
much the same during the last seventy years, and geographically one
can only say that his account of the route is generally correct,
although it indicates that it is compiled from memory. For instance,
there is a steep watershed to be crossed between Torashekh and Mingal,
but it is not of the nature of a "rugged mountain," nor could there
have ever been space enough for the extent of cultivation which he
describes in the Murghab valley. He is very much at fault in his
description of the road from Nimlik (which he calls Meilik) to Balkh.
The hills are on the right (not left) of the road, and are much higher
than those previously described as rugged mountains. No water from
these hills could possibly reach the road, for there is a canal
between them, the overflow of which, however, might possibly swamp the
road. Balkh hardly responds to his description of it. There is no
mosque to the north of Balkh, nor is the citadel square.

The road from Khulm to Bamian passes through Tashkurghan (which is due
east of Mazar--not south) and Haibak, and changes very much in
character before reaching Haibak. From Haibak to Kuram the description
of the road is fairly correct, but no amount of research on the part
of later surveyors has revealed the position of "Kartchoo" (which
apparently means locally a market); nor could Ferrier possibly have
encountered snow in July on any part of this route, even if he saw
any. We must, however, consider the conditions under which he was
travelling, and make allowances for the impossibility of keeping
anything of the nature of a systematic record. At Kuram, a well-known
point above Haibak on the road to Kabul, he reached the Uzbek
frontier. Beyond this point--into Afghanistan--no Uzbek would venture,
and it was impossible to proceed farther on the direct route to Kabul.
Yielding to the pressure of friendly advice, he made a retrograde
detour to Saripul, through districts occupied by Hazaras, and
"Kartchoo" was but a nomadic camp that he encountered during his first
day out from Kuram. Clearly he was making for the Yusuf Darra route to
Saripul; and his next camp, Dehao, marks the river. It may possibly be
the point marked Dehi on modern maps. At Saripul he was not only well
received by the Uzbek Governor, Mahomed Khan, but the extraordinary
influence which this man possessed with the Hazaras, Firozkohis, and
other Aimak tribes of northern Afghanistan enabled Ferrier to procure
food and horses at irregular stages which carried him to Ghur in the
Taimani land.

It is this part of Ferrier's journey which is so tantalizing and so
difficult to follow. He must have travelled both far and fast. Leaving
Saripul on July 11, he rode "ten parasangs," over country very varied
in character, to Boodhi. Now this country has been surveyed, and there
can be no reasonable doubt about the route he took southwards. But no
such place as Boodhi has ever been identified, nor have the
remarkable sculptures which were observed _en route_, fashioned on an
"enormous block of rock," been found again, although careful inquiries
were made about them. They may, of course, have been missed, and
information may have been purposely withheld, for geographical surveys
do not permit of lengthy halts for inquiry on any line of route.
Ferrier's description of them is so full of detail that it is
difficult to believe that it is imaginary. He mentions that on the
plain on which Boodhi stood, "two parasangs to the right," there were
the "ruins of a large town," which might very possibly be the ruins
identified by Imam Sharif (a surveyor of the Afghan Boundary
Commission), and which would fix the position of "Boodhi" somewhere
near Belchirag on the main route southward to Ghur. Belchirag is about
55 miles from Saripul. The next day's ride must have carried him into
the valley of the Upper Murghab on the Firozkohi plateau, crossing the
Band-i-Turkistan _en route_, and it was here that he met with such a
remarkable welcome at the fortress of Dev Hissar.

Ferrier describes the valley of the Upper Murghab in terms of rapture
which appear to be a trifle extravagant to those who know that
country. No systematic survey of it, however, has ever been possible,
and to this day the position of Dev Hissar is a matter of conjecture,
and the charming manners of its inhabitants (so unlike the ordinary
rough hospitality of the men and the unobtrusive character of the
women of the Firozkohi Aimak) are experiences such as our surveyors
sighed for in vain! As a mere guess, I should be inclined to place Dev
Hissar near Kila Gaohar, or to identify it with that fort. At any
rate, I prefer this solution of the puzzle to the suggestion that Dev
Hissar and its delightful inhabitants, like the previous sculptures,
were but an effort of imagination on the part of this volatile and
fascinating Frenchman.

There is always an element of suspicion as to the value of Ferrier's
information when he deals with the feminine side of Hazara human
nature. For instance, he asserts that the Hazara women fight in their
tribal battles side by side with their husbands. This is a feature in
their character for independence which the Hazara men absolutely deny,
and it is hardly necessary to add that no confirmation could be
obtained anywhere of the remarkable familiarity with which the ladies
of Hissar are said by Ferrier customarily to treat their guests.

The next long day's ride terminated at Singlak (another unknown
place), which was found deserted owing to a feud between the Hazaras
and Firozkohis. It was evidently within the Murghab basin and short of
the crest of the line of watershed bordering the Hari Rud valley on
the north, for the following day Ferrier crossed these hills, and the
Hari Rud valley beneath them (avoiding Daolatyar), at a point which he
fixes as "six parasangs S.W. of Sheherek." Again it is impossible to
locate the position. Kila Safarak is at the head of the Hari Rud, and
Kila Shaharak is in another valley (that of the Tagao Ishlan), so that
it will perhaps be safe to assume that it was nowhere near either of
these places, but at a point some 10 miles west of Daolatyar, which
marks the regular route for Ghur from the north.

Ferrier's description of this part of his journey is vague and
unsatisfactory. No such place as Kohistani, "situated on a high plain
in the midst of the Siah Koh," is known any more than is Singlak. The
divide, or ridge, which he crossed in passing from the Murghab valley
to the narrow trough of the Hari Rud is lower than the hills on the
south of the river. He could not possibly have crossed snow nor
overlooked the landscape to Saripul. It is doubtful if Chalapdalan,
the mountain which impressed him so mightily, is visible from any part
of the broken watershed north of the Hari Rud. Chalapdalan is only
13,600 feet high, and there would have been no snow on it in July. As
we proceed farther we fail to identify Ferrier's Tingelab River,
unless he means the Ab-i-lal. The Hari Rud does not flow through
Shaharak, and no one has found a village called Jaor in the Hari Rud
valley. Continuing to cross the Band-i-Baian (which he calls Siah
Koh) from Kohistani Baba, a very long day's ride brought him to
Deria-dereh, also called "Dereh Mustapha Khan," which was evidently a
place of importance and the headquarters of a powerful section of
either Hazaras or Taimanis under a Chief, Mustapha Khan. Here, in a
small oblong valley entirely closed by mountains, was a little lake of
azure colour and transparent clearness which lay like a vast gem
embedded in surrounding verdure ... "around which were somewhat
irregularly pitched a number of Taimani tents, separated from each
other by little patches of cultivation and gardens enclosed by stone
walls breast high.... The luxuriance of the vegetation in this valley
might compare with any that I had ever seen in Europe. On the summits
of the surrounding mountains were several ruins, etc. etc." Ash and
oak trees were there. Fishermen were dragging the lake, women were
leading flocks to the water, and young girls sat outside the tents
weaving bereks (barak, or camel-hair cloth), and contentment was
depicted on every face.

From Deria-dereh another long day's ride brought him to Zirni, which
he describes as the ancient capital of Ghur. From the Band-i-Baian (or
Koh Siah, as he calls it) to Zirni is at least 100 miles by the very
straightest road, and that would pass by Taiwara. It is clear that he
did not take that road, or he could hardly have ignored so important a
position as Taiwara. If he made a detour eastward he would pass
through Hazara country--very mountainous, very high and difficult,
and the length of the two days' journey would be nearer 150 miles than
100. To the first day's journey (as far as Deria-dereh) he gives ten
hours on horseback, which in that country might represent 60 miles;
but no such place as he describes, no lake with Arcadian surroundings,
has been either seen or heard of by subsequent surveyors within the
recognized limits of Taimani country. If it exists at all, it is to
the east of the great watershed from which spring the Ghur River and
the Farah Rud, hidden within the spurs of the Hazara mountains. This
is just possible, for this wild and weatherbeaten country has not been
so fully reconnoitred as that farther west; but it makes Ferrier's
journey extraordinary for the distances covered, and fully accounts
for the fact that he has preserved so little detail of this eventful
ride that, practically, there is nothing of geographical interest to
be learnt from it.

Ferrier's description of the ruins which are to be found in the
neighbourhood of Zirni and Taiwara, especially his reference to a
"paved" road leading towards Ghazni, is very interesting. He is fully
impressed with the beauty of the surrounding country, and what he has
to say about this centre of an historical Afghan kingdom has been more
or less confirmed by subsequent explorers. Only the "Ghebers" have
disappeared; and the magnificent altitude of the "Chalap Dalan"
mountain, described by him as one of the "highest in the world," has
been reduced to comparatively humble proportions. Its isolated
position, however, undoubtedly entitles it to rank as a remarkable
geographical feature.

At Zirni Ferrier found that his further progress towards Kandahar was
arrested, and from that point, to his bitter disgust, he was compelled
to return to Herat. From Zirni to Herat was, in his day, an unmapped
region, and he is the first European to give us even a glimpse of that
once well-trodden highway. His conjectures about the origin of the
Aimak tribes which people Central Afghanistan are worthy of study, as
they are based on original inquiry from the people themselves; but it
is very clear that either time has modified the manners of these
people, or that popular sources of information are not always to be
trusted. He repeats the story of the fighting propensities of Hazara
women when dealing with the Taimanis, and adds, as regards the latter,
that "a girl does not marry until she has performed some feat of
arms." It may be that "feats of arms" are not so easy of achievement
in these days, but it is certain that such an inducement to marry
would fail to be effective now. It might even prove detrimental to a
girl's chances.

Once again we can only regard with astonishment Ferrier's record of a
ride from "Tarsi" (Parsi) to Herat, at least 90 miles, in one night. A
district Chief told Captain (now Colonel) the Hon. M. G. Talbot, who
conducted the surveys of the country in 1883, that "a good Taimani on
a good horse" might accomplish the feat, but that nobody else could.
Ferrier, with his considerable escort, seemed to have found no
difficulty, but undoubtedly he was in excellent training. His general
description of the country that he passed through accords with the
pace at which he swept through it, and nothing is to be gained by
criticising his hasty observations. At Herat he was fortunate in
securing the consent of Yar Mahomed Khan to his project for reaching
the Punjab _via_ Kandahar and Kabul; and with letters from that wily
potentate to the Amir Dost Mahomed Khan and his son-in-law Mahomed
Akbar Khan this "Lord of the Kingdom of France, General Ferrier" set
out on another attempt to reach India. In this he was unsuccessful,
and his path was a thorny one. He travelled by the road which had been
adopted as the post-road between Herat and Kandahar, during the
residence of the English Mission at Herat--a route which, leaving
Farah to the west, approaches Kandahar by Washir and Girishk, and
which is still undoubtedly the most direct road between the two
capitals. But the particularly truculent character of the Durani
Afghan tribes of Western Afghanistan rendered this journey most
dangerous for a single European moving without an armed escort, and he
was robbed and maltreated with fiendish persistency. It was a
well-known and much-trodden old road, but it has always been, and it
is still, about the worst road in all Afghanistan for the fanatical
unpleasantness of its Achakzai and Nurzai environment.

After leaving Washir Ferrier was imprisoned at Mahmudabad, and again
when he reached Girishk, and the story of the treatment he received at
both places says much for the natural soundness of his constitution.
Luckily he fell in with a friendly Munshi who had been in English
service, who, whilst warning Ferrier that he might consider the
position of his head on his shoulders as "wonderfully shaky," did a
good deal to dissipate the notion that he was an English spy, and
helped him through what was indeed a very tight place. It was at this
point of his journey that Ferrier heard of an English prisoner in
Zamindawar,--a traveller with "green eyes and red hair,"--and the fact
that he actually received a note from this man (which he could not
read as it was written in English) seems to confirm that fact. He
could do nothing to help him, and no one knows what may have been the
ultimate fate of this unfortunate captive.

Ferrier is naturally indignant with Sir Alexander Burnes for
describing the Afghans as "a sober, simple steady people" (Burnes'
_Travels in Bokhara_, vol. i. pp. 143, 144). How Burnes could ever
have arrived at such an extraordinary estimate of Afghan character is
hard to imagine, and it says little for those perceptive faculties for
which Masson has such contempt. But it not inaptly points the great
contrast that does really exist between the Kabuli and the Kandahari
to this day. When the English officers of the Afghan Boundary
Commission in 1883 were occupied in putting Herat into a state of
defence, their personal escort was carefully chosen from soldiers of
the northern province, who, by no means either "sober or simple," were
at any rate far less fanatical and truculent than the men of the west,
and they were, on the whole, a pleasant and friendly contingent to
deal with.

At Girishk, and subsequently, Ferrier has certain geographical facts
of interest to record. Some of them still want verification, but they
are valuable indications. He notes the immense ruins and mounds on
both sides the Helmund at Girishk. He was in confinement at Girishk
for eight days, where he suffered much from "the vermin which I could
not prevent from getting into my clothes, and the rattling of my
inside from the scantiness of my daily ration." However, his trials
came to an end at last, and he left Girishk "with a heart full of
hatred for its inhabitants and a lively joy at his departure," fording
the Helmund at some little distance from the town. He remarks on the
vast ruins at Kushk-i-Nakhud, where there is a huge artificial mound.
A similar one exists at Sangusar, about 3 miles south-east of
Kushk-i-Nakhud. At Kandahar the final result of a short residence that
was certainly full of lively incident, and an interview with the
Governor Kohendil Khan (brother of the Amir Dost Mahomed), was a
return to Girishk. This must have been sickening; but it resulted in a
series of excursions into Baluch territory which are not
uninstructive. The ill-treatment (amounting to the actual infliction
of torture) which Ferrier endured at the hands of the Girishk Governor
(Sadik Khan, a son of Kohendil Khan) on this second visit to Girishk,
was even worse than the first, and it was only by signing away his
veracity and giving a false certificate of friendship with the brute
that he finally got free again. He was to follow the Helmund to Lash
Jowain in Seistan, but the attempt was frustrated by a local
disturbance at Binadur, on the Helmund. So far, however, this abortive
excursion was of certain geographical interest as covering new ground.
The places mentioned by Ferrier _en route_ are all still in existence,
but he gives no detailed account of them.

Once more a start was made from Girishk, and this time our explorer
succeeded in reaching Farah by the direct route through Washir. It was
in the month of October, and the fiery heat of the Bakwa plain was
sufficiently trying even to this case-hardened Frenchman. About Farah
he has much to say that still requires confirmation. Of the exceeding
antiquity of this place there is ample evidence; but no one since
Ferrier has identified the site of the second and later town of Farah
"an hour" farther north or "half an hour" from the Farah Rud (river),
where bricks were seen "three feet long and four inches thick," with
inscriptions on them in cuneiform character, amidst the ruins. This
town was abandoned in favour of the older (and present) site when Shah
Abbas the Great besieged and destroyed it, but there can be no doubt
that the bricks seen by Ferrier must have possessed an origin long
anterior to the town, which only dates from the time of Chenghiz Khan.
The existence of such evidence of the ancient and long-continued
connection between Assyria and Western Afghanistan would be
exceedingly interesting were it confirmed by modern observation. Farah
is by all accounts a most remarkable town, and it undoubtedly contains
secrets of the past which for interest could only be surpassed by
those of Balkh. At Farah Ferrier was lodged in a "hole over the north
gate of the town, open to the violent winds of Seistan, which rushed
in at eight enormous holes, through which also came the rays of the
sun." Here wasps, scorpions, and mice were his companions, and it must
be admitted that Ferrier's account of the horrors of Farah residence
have been more or less confirmed by all subsequent travellers to
Seistan. But he finally succeeded in obtaining, through the not
inhospitable governor, the necessary permission from Yar Mahomed Khan
of Herat (whose policy in his dealings with Ferrier it is quite
impossible to decipher) to pass on to Shikarpur and Sind; and the
permission is couched in such pious and affectionate terms, that the
"very noble, very exalted, the companion of honour, of fortune, and of
happiness, my kind friend, General Ferrier," really thought there was
a chance of escaping from his clutches. He was, by the way, invited
back again to Herat, but he was told that he might please himself.

Here follows a most interesting exploration into a stretch of
territory then utterly unreconnoitred and unknown, and it is
unfortunate that this most trying route through the flats and wastes
which stretch away eastwards of the Helmund lagoons should still be
but sketchily indicated in our maps. It is, however, from Farah to
Khash (where the Khash Rud is crossed), and from Khash to the Helmund,
but a track through a straight region of desolation and heat,
relieved, however (like the desert region to the south of the
Helmund), by strips of occasional tamarisk vegetation, where grass is
to be found in the spring and nomads collect with their flocks.
Watering-places might be developed here by digging wells, and the
route rendered practicable across the Dasht-i-Margo as it has been
between Nushki and Seistan, but when Ferrier crossed it it was a
dangerous route to attempt on tired and ill-fed horses. The existence
of troops of wild asses was sufficient evidence of its life-supporting
capabilities if properly developed. Ferrier struck the Helmund about
Khan Nashin. Here a most ill-timed and ill-advised fight with a Baluch
clan ended in a disastrous flight of the whole party down the Helmund
to Rudbar, and it would perhaps be unkind to criticise too closely the
heroics of this part of Ferrier's story.

At Rudbar Ferrier again noticed bricks a yard square in an old dyke,
whilst hiding. Rudbar was well known to the Arab geographers, but this
record of Ferrier's carries it back (and with it the course of the
Helmund) to very ancient times indeed. Continuing to follow the river,
they passed Kala-i-Fath and reached "Poolka"--a place which no longer
exists under that name. This is all surveyed country; but no
investigator since Ferrier has observed the same ancient bricks at
Kala-i-Fath which Ferrier noted there as at Farah and Rudbar. There is
every probability, however, of their existence. All this part of the
Helmund valley abounds in antiquities which are as old as Asiatic
civilization, but nothing short of systematic antiquarian exploration
will lead to further discoveries of any value.

Ferrier was now in Seistan, and we may pass over his record of
interesting observations on the wealth of antiquarian remains which
surrounded him. It is enough to point out that he was one of the first
to call public attention to them from the point of view of actual
contact. It must be accepted as much to the credit of Ferrier's
narrative that the latest surveys of Seistan (_i.e._ those completed
during the work of the Commission under Sir H. MacMahon in 1903-5)
entirely support the account given in his _Caravan Journeys_ as he
wandered through that historic land. By the light of the older maps,
completed during the Afghan Boundary Commission some twenty years
previously, it would have been difficult to have traced his steps. We
know now that the lake of Seistan should, with all due regard to its
extraordinary capacity for expansion and contraction, be represented
as in MacMahon's map, extending southwards to a level with the great
bend of the Helmund. Ferrier's narrative very conclusively illustrates
this position of it, and proves that such an expansion must be
regarded as normal. We can no longer accurately locate the positions
of Pulaki and Galjin, but from his own statements it seems more than
probable that the first place is already sand-buried. They were not
far north of Kala-i-Fath. From there he went northward to Jahanabad,
and north-west (not south-west) to Jalalabad. It was at Jahanabad that
he nearly fell into the hands of Ali Khan, the chief of Chakhansur
(Sheikh Nassoor of Ferrier), the scoundrel who had previously murdered
Dr. Forbes and hung his body up to be carefully watered and watched
till it fell to pieces in gold ducats. There was an unfortunate
superstition current in Baluchistan to the effect that this was the
normal end of European existence! Luckily it has passed away. Escaping
such a calamity, he turned the lake at its southern extremity,
passing through Sekoha, and travelled up its western banks till, after
crossing the Harat Rud, he reached Lash Jowain. From here to Farah and
from Farah once again to Herat, his road was made straight for him,
and we need only note what he has to say about the extent of the ruins
near Sabzawar to be convinced that here was the mediaeval provincial
capital of Parwana. At Herat he was enabled to do what would have
saved him a most adventurous journey (and lost us the pleasure of
recording his work as that of a notable explorer of Afghanistan),
_i.e._ take the straight road back to Teheran from whence he came.

With this we may bid adieu to Ferrier, but it is only fair to do tardy
justice to his remarkable work. I confess that after the regions of
Central Afghanistan had been fairly well reconnoitred by the surveyors
of the Russo-Afghan Boundary Commission, considerable doubt remained
in my mind as to the veracity of Ferrier's statements. I still think
he was imposed upon now and then by what he _heard_, but I have little
doubt that he adhered on the whole (and the conditions under which he
travelled must be remembered) to a truthful description of what he
_saw_. It is true that there still remains wanting an explanation of
his experiences at that restful island in the sea of difficulty and
danger which surrounded him--Dev Hissar--but I have already pointed
out that it may exist beyond the limits of actual subsequent
observation; and as regards the stupendous bricks with cuneiform
inscription, it can only be said that their existence in the
localities which he mentions has been rendered so probable by recent
investigation, that nothing short of serious and systematic
excavation, conducted in the spirit which animated the discovery of
Nineveh, will finally disprove this most interesting evidence of the
extreme antiquity of the cities of Afghanistan, and their relation to
the cities of Mesopotamia.




CHAPTER XVIII

SUMMARY


The close of the Afghan war of 1839-40 left a great deal to be desired
in the matter of practical geography. It was not the men but the
methods that were wanting. The commencement of the second and last
Afghan war in 1878 saw the initiation of a system of field survey of a
practical geographical nature, which combined the accuracy of
mathematical deduction with the rapidity of plane table topography. It
was the perfecting of the smaller class of triangulating instruments
that made this system possible, quite as much as the unique
opportunity afforded to a survey department in such a country as India
for training topographers. It worked well from the very first, and
wherever a force could march or a political mission be launched into
such a region of open hill and valley as the Indian trans-frontier,
there could the surveyors hold their own (no matter what the nature of
the movement might be) and make a "square" survey in fairly accurate
detail, with the certainty that it would take its final place
without squeezing or distortion in the general map of Asia. This was
of course very different from the plodding traverse work of former
days, and it rapidly placed quite a new complexion on our
trans-frontier maps. Since then regular systematic surveys in
extension of those of India have been carried far afield, and it may
safely be said now that no country in the world is better provided
with military maps of its frontiers than India. In Baluchistan,
indeed, there is little left to the imagination. A country which forty
years ago was an ugly blank in our maps, with a doubtful locality
indicated here and there, is now almost as well surveyed as Scotland.
Afghanistan, however, is beyond our line, "out of bounds," and the
result is that there are serious gaps in our map knowledge of the
country of the Amir, gaps which there seems little probability of
investigating under the present closure of the frontier to explorers.

  [Illustration: SKETCH MAP OF HINDU KUSH PASSES]

By far the most important of these gaps are the uplands of Badakshan,
stretching from the Oxus plains to the Hindu Kush. The plains of
Balkh, as far east as Khulm and Tashkurghan, from whence the high-road
leads to Haibak, Bamian, and the Hindu Kush passes, are fairly well
mapped. The Oxus, to the north of Balkh, is well known, and the fords
and passages of that river have been reckoned up with fair accuracy.
From time immemorial every horde of Skythic origin, Nagas, Sakas, or
Jatas, must have passed these fords from the hills and valleys of the
Central Asian divide on their way to India. The Oxus fords have seen
men in millions making south for the valleys of Badakshan and the
Golden Gates of Central Asiatic ideal which lay yet farther south
beyond the grim line of Hindu Kush. Balkh (the city) must have stood
like a rock in the human tide which flowed from north to south. From
the west, too, from Asia Minor and the Persian provinces, as well as
from the Caspian steppes to the north-west, must have come many a
weary band of tear-stained captives, transported across half a
continent by their conquerors to colonize, build cities, and gradually
amalgamate with the indigenous people, and so to disappear from
history. From the west came Parthians, Medes, Assyrians, and Greeks,
who did not altogether disappear. But no such human tide ever flowed
into Badakshan from the east nor yet from the south. To the east are
the barrier heights of the Pamirs. No crowd of fugitives or captives
ever faced those bleak, inhospitable, wind-torn valleys that we know
of. Nor can we find any trace of emigration from India. Yet routes
were known across the Pamirs, and in due time, as we have seen, small
parties of pilgrims from China made use of these routes, seeking for
religious truth in Balkh when, as a Buddhist centre, Balkh was in
direct connection with the Buddhist cities of Eastern Turkistan. And
Buddhism itself, when it left India, went northward and flourished
exceedingly in those same cities of the sandy plain, where the people
talked and wrote a language of India for centuries after the birth of
Christ. Balkh, however, never stayed the tide which overlapped it and,
passing on, lost itself in the valleys under the Hindu Kush, or else,
surmounting that range, streamed over into the Kabul basin. Whether
the tide set in from north or west, the overflow was forced by purely
geographical conditions into precisely the same channels, and in many
cases it drifted into the hills and stayed there. What we should
expect to find in Balkh, then (whenever Dr. Stein can get there), are
records in brick, records in writing, and records in coin, of nearly
every great Asiatic movement which has influenced the destinies of
India from the days of Assyria to those of Mohamed. What a history to
unfold!

Of the Badakshan uplands south and south-east of Balkh, we have but
most unsatisfying geographical record. In the days preceding the first
Afghan war when Burnes, Moorcroft, Lord, and Wood were in the field,
we certainly acquired much useful information which is still all that
we have for scientific reference. Moorcroft, as we have seen, made
several hurried journeys between Balkh and Kunduz under most perilous
conditions, when endeavouring to escape from the clutches of the
border chief, Murad Beg. But Moorcroft's opportunities of scientific
observation were small, and his means of ascertaining his
geographical position were crude, and we gain little or nothing from
his thrilling story of adventure, beyond a general description of a
desolate region of swamp and upland which forms the main features of
Northern Badakshan.

Lord and Wood, who followed Moorcroft at no great interval, and who
were also in direct personal touch with Murad Beg under much the same
political circumstances, have furnished much more useful information
of the routes and passes between Haibak and Kunduz, and given us a
very fair idea of the physical configuration of that desolate
district. Lord's memoir on the _Uzbek State of Kundooz_ (published at
Simla in July 1838) is indeed the best, if not the only, authoritative
document concerning the history and policy of Badakshan, giving us a
fair idea of the conditions under which Murad Beg established and
consolidated his position as the paramount chief of that country, and
the guardian of the great commercial route between Kabul and Bokhara;
but there is little geographical information in the memoir. The four
fortified towns of the Kunduz state, Kunduz, Rustak, Talikhan, and
Hazrat Imam, are described rather as depositories for plunder than as
positions of any great importance, and the real strength of Murad
Beg's military force lay in the quality of his hordes of irregular
Uzbek horsemen and the extraordinary hardiness and endurance of the
Kataghani horses. So highly esteemed is this particular breed that the
late Amir of Afghanistan would permit of no export of horses from
Kataghan, reserving them especially for the purpose of mounting his
own cavalry.

We learn incidentally of the waste and desolation caused by the
poisonous climate of the fens and marshes between Hazrat Imam and
Kunduin, to which Murad Beg had transported 20,000 Badakshani families
for purposes of colonization, and where Dr. Lord was told that barely
1000 individuals had survived; but Wood tells us much more than this
in his charming book on the Oxus. From the point where he left the
main road from Kabul to Bokhara (a little below Kuram north of the
Saighan valley) till he reached Kunduz, he was passing over country
and by-ways which have never been revisited by any European
geographer. He tells us that "the plain between the streams that water
Kunduz and Kuram has a wavy surface, and though unsuited to
agriculture has an excellent pasturage. The only village on the road
is Hazrat Baba Kamur. On the eastern side the plain is supported by a
ridge of hills sloping down from the mountains to the south. We
crossed it by the pass of Archa (so called from the fir trees which
cover its crest), from the top of which we had a noble view of the
snowy mountains to the east, the outliers of Hindu Kush. Next day we
forded the river of Kunduz, and continuing to journey along its right
bank, through the swampy district of Baghlan and Aliabad, reached the
capital of Murad Beg on Monday the 4th Dec. (1837)." The story of
Wood's travels in Badakshan has already been told; the moon-lit march
from Kunduz through the dense jungle grass and swamp, often knee-deep
in water; the gradual rise to higher ground above; the floating vapour
screen that hovered over the fens; Khanabad and its quaint array of
colleges and students, and the Koh Umber mountain, isolated and
conspicuous, dividing the plains of Kunduz and Talikhan--all these are
features which will indicate the general character of that part of
Badakshan but leave us no fixed and determined position. The Koh Umber
in particular must be a remarkable topographical landmark, as it
towers 2500 feet above the surrounding plain with a snow-covered
summit. Wood says of it that it is central to the districts of
Talikhan, Kunduz, and Hazrat Imam, and its pasturage is common to the
flocks of all three plains. But it is an undetermined geographical
feature, and still remains in its solitary grandeur, a position to be
won by future explorers.

From Khanabad to Talikhan, Faizabad, and Jirm (which, it will be
recollected, was once the capital of Badakshan--probably the
"Badakshan" of Arab geography), we have the description of a
mountainous country supporting the conjectural topography of our maps,
which indicate that this route borders and occasionally crosses a
series of gigantic spurs or offshoots of a central range (which Wood
calls the Khoja) which must itself be a north-easterly arm of the
Hindu Kush, taking off from the latter range somewhere near the
Khawak Pass. Here, then, is one of the most important blanks in the
map of our frontier. Inconceivably rugged and difficult of access, it
seems probable that it is more accessible from Badakshan than from the
south. We know from Wood's account of the extraordinary difficulty
that beset his efforts to reach the lapis-lazuli mines above Jirm in
the Kokcha River something of the general nature of these northern
valleys and defiles of Kafiristan reaching down to lower Badakshan. It
would, indeed, be a splendid geographical feat to fix the position and
illustrate the topography of this roughest section of Asia.

Between the Khawak Pass of the Hindu Kush which leads to Andarab, and
the Mandal, or Minjan, passes, some 70 miles to the east, we have
never solved the problem of the Hindu Kush divide. What lies behind
Wood's Khoja range, between it and the main divide? We have the valley
called Anjuman, which is believed to lead as directly to Jirm from the
Khawak Pass as Andarab does to Kunduz. It is an important feature in
Hindu Kush topography, but we know nothing of it. We may, however,
safely conjecture that the Minjan River, reached by Sir George
Robertson in one of his gallant attempts to explore Kafiristan, is the
upper Kokcha flowing past the lapis-lazuli mines to Jirm. But where
does it rise? And where on the southern slopes of the Hindu Kush do
the small affluents of the Alingar and Alishang have their beginning?
These are the hidden secrets of Kafiristan. It is here that those
turbulent people (who, by the way, seem to exhibit the same
characteristics from whatever valley of Kafiristan they come, and to
be much more homogeneous than is usually supposed) hide themselves in
their upland villages, amidst their magnificent woods and forests,
untroubled by either Afghan or European visitors. Here they live their
primitive lives, enlivened with quaint ceremonies and a heathenism
equally reminiscent of the mythology of Greece, the ritual of
Zoroaster, and the beliefs of the Hindu. Who will unravel the secrets
of this inhabited outland, which appears at present to be more
impracticable to the explorer than either of the poles? Yule, in his
preface to the last edition of Wood's _Oxus_, remarks that Colonel
Walker, the late Surveyor-General of India (and one of the greatest of
Asiatic geographers) repeatedly expressed his opinion that there is no
well-defined range where the Hindu Kush is represented in our maps,
and he adds that such an expression of opinion can only apply to that
part of the Hindu Kush which lies east of the Khawak Pass. Sir Henry
Yule refers to Wood's incidental notices of the mountains which he saw
towering to the south of him, "rising to a vast height and bearing far
below their summits the snow of ages," in refutation of such an
opinion; and he further quotes the "havildar's" (native surveyor)
report of the Nuksan and Dorah passes in confirmation of Wood.

Since Yule wrote, Woodthorpe's surveys of the Nuksan and Dorah passes
during the Lockhart mission leave little doubt as to the nature of the
Hindu Kush as far west as those passes, but it is precisely between
those passes and the Khawak, along the backbone of Kafiristan, that we
have yet to learn the actual facts of mountain conformation. And here
possibly there may be something in Walker's suggestion. The mountains
to which Wood looked up from Talikhan or Kishm, towering to the south
of him and covered with perpetual snow, certainly formed no part of
the main Hindu Kush divide. Between them and the Hindu Kush is either
the deep valley of Anjuman, or more probably the upper drainage of the
Minjan, which, rising not far east of Khawak, repeats the almost
universal Himalayan feature of a long, lateral, ditch-like valley in
continuation of the Andarab depression, marking the base of the
connecting link in the primeval fold formed by the Hindu Kush east and
west of it. We should expect to find the Kafiristan mountain
conformation to be an integral part of the now recognised Himalayan
system of parallel mountain folds, with deep lateral valleys fed by a
transverse drainage. The long valley of the Alingar will prove to be
another such parallel depression, and we shall find when the map is
finished that the dominating structural feature of all this wild
hinterland of mountains is the north-east to south-west trend of
mountain and valley which marks the Kunar (or Chitral) valley on the
one side and the Panjshir on the other. The reason why it is more
probable that the Minjan River takes the direct drainage of the
northern slopes of this Kafiristan backbone into a lateral trough than
that the Anjuman spreads its head into a fan, is that Sir George
Robertson found the Minjan, below the pass of Mandal, to be a far more
considerable river than its assumed origin in the official maps would
make it. He accordingly makes a deep indentation in the Hindu Kush
divide (on the map which illustrates his captivating book, _The Kafirs
of the Hindu Kush_), bringing it down southward nearly half a degree
to an acute angle, so as to afford room for the Minjan to rise and
follow a course in direct line with its northerly run (as the Kokcha)
in Badakshan. This is a serious disturbance of the laws which govern
the structure of Asiatic mountain systems, as now recognized, and it
is indeed far more likely that the Minjan (Kokcha) follows those laws
which have placed the Andarab and the Panjshir (or for that matter the
Indus and the Brahmaputra) in their parallel mountain troughs, than
that the primeval fold of the Hindu Kush has become disjointed and
indented by some agency which it would be impossible to explain. Who
is going to complete the map and solve the question?

We are still very far from possessing a satisfactory geographical
knowledge of even the more accessible districts of Badakshan. We still
depend on Wood for the best that we know of the route between
Faizabad and Zebak; and of those Eastern mountains which border the
Oxus as it bends northward to Kila Khum we know positively nothing at
all.

But beyond all contention the hidden jewels to be acquired by
scientific research in Badakshan are archaeological and antiquarian
rather than geographical. Now that Nineveh and Babylon have yielded up
their secrets, there is no such field out of Egypt for the antiquarian
and his spade as the plains of Balkh. But enough has been said of what
may be hidden beneath the unsightly bazaars and crumbling ruins of
modern Balkh. Whilst Badakshan literally teems with opportunities for
investigation, certain features of ancient Baktria appear to be
especially associated with certain sites; such, for instance, as the
sites of Semenjan (Haibak), Baghlan, Andarab, and particularly the
junction of the rivers at Kasan. That Andarab (Ariaspa) held the
capital of the Greek colonies there can be as little doubt as that
Haibak and its neighbourhood formed the great Buddhist centre between
Balkh and Kabul. Again, who is going to make friends with the Amir of
Afghanistan and try his luck? It must be a foreigner, for no
Englishman would be permitted by his own government to pass that way
at present.

The wild and savage altitudes of Badakshan and Kafiristan by no means
exhaust the unexplored tracts of Afghanistan. We have the curious
feature of a well-surveyed route connecting Ghazni with Kandahar, one
of the straightest and best of military routes trodden by armies
uncountable from the days of Alexander to those of Roberts, a narrow
ribbon of well-ascertained topography, dividing the two most important
of the unexplored regions of Afghanistan. North-west of this road lies
the great basin of the central Helmund. South-east is a broken land of
plain, ribbed and streaked with sharp ridges of frontier formation,
about which we ought to know a great deal more than we do. Up the
frontier staircases and on to this plain run many important routes
from India. The Kuram route strikes it at its northern extremity and
leaves it to the southward. The Tochi valley route, and the great
mercantile Gomal highway strike into the middle of it, and yet no one
of our modern frontier explorers has ever reached it from one side or
the other. We still depend on Broadfoot's and Vigne's account of what
they saw there, although it is only just on the far side of the rocky
band of hills which face the Indus.

About midway between Ghazni and Bannu is the water-parting which
separates the Indus drainage from that of the Helmund, and at this
point there are some formidable peaks, well over 12,000 feet in
height, to distinguish it. The Tochi passage is easy enough as far as
the Sheranni group of villages near the head of its long cultivated
ramp, but beyond that point the traveller becomes involved in the
narrow lateral valleys which follow the trend of the ridges which
traverse his path, where streams curl up from the Birmal hills to the
south and from the high altitudes which shelter the Kharotis on the
north. It is a perpetual wriggle through steep-sided rocky waterways,
until one emerges into more open country after crossing the main
divide by the Kotanni Pass. The hills here are called Jadran, and it
is probable that the Jadran divide and that of the Kohnak farther
south are one and the same. Beyond the Kotanni Pass to Ghazni the way
is fairly open, but we know very little about it beyond the historical
fact that the arch-raider, Mahmud of Ghazni, used to follow this route
for his cavalry descents on the Indian frontier with most remarkable
success. The remains of old encampments are to be seen in the plain at
the foot of the Tochi, and disjointed indications of an ancient
high-road were found on the hill slopes to the north of the stream by
our surveyors.

Of the actual physical facts of the Gomul route we have only the
details gathered by Broadfoot under great difficulties, and a
traveller's account by Vigne. What they found has already been
described, and the frontier expedition to the Takht-i-Suliman in 1882
sufficiently well determined the position of the Kohnak water-parting
to give a fixed geographical value to their narratives. But we have no
topography beyond Domandi and Wana. We know that the ever-present
repellent band of rocky ridge and furrow, the hill and valley
distribution which is distinctive, has to be encountered and passed;
but the route does not bristle with the difficulties of narrow ways
and stony footpaths as does the Tochi, and there is no doubt that it
could soon be reduced to a very practicable artillery road. The
important point is that we do not know here (any more than as regards
the upper Tochi) a great deal that it concerns us very much to know.
We have no mapping of the country which lies between the Baluch
frontier and Lake Abistada, the land of the stalwart Suliman Khel
tribes-people, and it is a country of which the possible resources
might be of great value to us if ever we are driven again to take
military stock of Afghanistan.

But the importance of good mapping in this part of Afghanistan is due
solely to its position in geographical relation to the Indian
frontier. It is different when we turn to the stupendous altitudes of
the high Hazara plateau land to the north of the Ghazni-Kandahar
route. With this we are not likely to have any future concern, except
that which may be called academic. In spite of the reputation for
sterile wind-scoured desolation which the uplands hiding the upper
Helmund valleys have always enjoyed, it is not to be forgotten that
there are summer ways about them, and strong indications that some of
these ways are distinctly useful. Our knowledge of the Helmund River
(such knowledge, that is to say, as justifies us in mapping the
course of the river with a firm line) from its sources ends almost
exactly at the intersection of the parallel of 34 deg. of North latitude
with the meridian of 67 deg. East longitude. For the next 120 miles we
really know nothing about its course, except that it is said to run
nearly straight through the heart of the Hazara highlands.

Two very considerable, but nameless, rivers run more or less parallel
to the Helmund to the south of it, draining the valleys of Ujaristan
and Urusgan, the upper part of the latter being called Malistan. What
these valleys are like, or what may be the nature of the dividing
water-parting, we do not know, nor have we any authentic description
of the valley of Nawar, which lies under the Gulkoh mountain at the
head of the Arghandab, but apparently unconnected with it. Native
information on the subject of these highly elevated valleys is
excessively meagre, nor are they of any special interest from either
the strategic or economic point of view. Far more interesting would it
be to secure a geographical map of those northern branches of the
Helmund, the Khud Rud, and the Kokhar Ab, which drain the mountain
districts to the east of Taiwara above the undetermined position of
Ghizao on the Helmund. These mountain streams must rush their waters
through magnificent gorges, for the peaks which soar above them rise
to 13,000 feet in altitude, and the country is described as
inconceivably rugged and wild. This is the real centre and home of the
Hazara communities, and, in spite of the fact that there are certain
well-ascertained tracks traversing the country and connecting the
Helmund with the valley of the Hari Rud, we know that for the greater
part of the year they must be closed to all traffic. They are of no
importance outside purely local interests. The comparatively small
area yet unexplored which lies to the north of the Hazara mountains,
shut off from them by the straight trough of the Hari Rud and
embracing the head of the Murghab River of Turkistan, is almost
equally unimportant, although it would be a matter of great interest
to investigate a little more closely the remarkable statements of
Ferrier which bear on this region.

When we have finally struck a balance between our knowledge and our
ignorance of that which concerns the landward gates of India, we shall
recognize the fact that we know all that it is really essential that
we should know of these uplifted approaches. They are inconceivably
old--as old as the very mountains which they traverse. What use may be
made of them has been made long ago. We have but to turn back the
pages of history and we find abundant indications which may enable us
to gauge their real value as highways from Central Asia to India.
History says that none of the tracks which lead from China and Tibet
have ever been utilized for the passage of large bodies of people
either as emigrants, troops, commercial travellers, or pilgrims into
India, although there exists a direct connection between China and the
Brahmaputra in Assam, and although we know that the difficulties of
the road between Lhasa and India are by no means insuperable. Nor by
the Kashmir passes from Turkistan or the Pamirs is it possible to find
any record of a formidable passing of large bodies of people, although
the Karakoram has been a trade route through all time, and although
the Chinese have left their mark below Chitral. Yet we have had
explorers over the passes connecting the upper Oxus affluents with
Gilgit and Chitral who have not failed, some of them, to sound a
solemn note of warning.

Before the settlement of the Oxus extension of the northern boundary
of Afghanistan, something of a scare was started by a demonstration of
the fact that it is occasionally quite easy to cross the Kilik Pass
from the Taghdumbash Pamir into the Gilgit basin, or to climb over the
comparatively easy slopes of the flat-backed Hindu Kush by the
Baroghel Pass and slip down into the valley of the Chitral. There was,
however, always a certain amount of geographical controversy as to the
value of the Chitral or of the Kilik approach after the crossing of
the Hindu Kush had been effected. Much of the difference of opinion
expressed by exploring experts was due to the different conditions
under which those undesirable, troublesome approaches to India were
viewed. Where one explorer might find a protruding glacier blocking
his path and terminating his excursions, another would speak of an
open roadway.

From season to season in these high altitudes local conditions vary to
an extent which makes it impossible to forecast the difficulties which
may obtrude themselves during any one month or even for any one
summer. In winter, _i.e._ for at least eight months of the year, all
are equally ice-bound and impracticable, and although the general
spirit of desiccation, which reigns over High Asia and is tending to
reduce the glaciers and diminish the snowfall, may eventually change
the conditions of mountain passages to an appreciable extent (and for
a period), it would be idle to speculate on any really important
modification of these difficulties from such natural climatic causes.
We must take these mountain passes as we find them now, and as the
Chinese pilgrim of old found them, placed by Nature in positions
demanding a stout heart and an earnest purpose, determined to wrest
from inhospitable Nature the merit of a victorious encounter with her
worst and most detestable moods, ere we surmount them. To the pilgrim
they represented the "strait gate" and "narrow way" which ever leads
to salvation, and he accepted the horrors as a part of the sacrifice.
To us they represent troublesome breaks in the stern continuity of our
natural defences which can be made to serve no useful purpose, but
which may nevertheless afford the opportunity to an aggressive and
enterprising enemy to spy out the land and raise trouble on the
border. We cannot altogether leave them alone. They have to be watched
by the official guardians of our frontier, and all the gathered
threads of them converging on Leh or Gilgit must be held by hands that
are alert and strong. It is just as dangerous an error to regard such
approaches to India as negligible quantities in the military and
political field of Indian defence, as to take a serious view of their
practicability for purposes of invasion.

Beyond this scattered series of rugged and elevated by-ways of the
mountains crossing the great Asiatic divide from regions of Tibet and
the Pamirs, to the west of them, we find on the edge of the unsurveyed
regions of Kafiristan that group of passages, the Mandal and Minjan,
the Nuksan and the Dorah which converge on Chitral as they pass
southward over the Hindu Kush from the rugged uplands of Badakshan.
None of these appear to have been pilgrim routes, nor does history
help us in estimating their value as gateways in the mountains. They
are practicable at certain seasons, and one of them, the Dorah, is a
much-trodden route, connecting what is probably the best road
traversing upper Badakshan from Faizabad to the Hindu Kush with the
Chitral valley, and it enjoys the comparatively moderate altitude of
about 14,500 feet above sea-level. A pass of this altitude is a pass
to be reckoned with, and nothing but its remote geographical position,
and the extreme difficulty of its approaches on either side (from
Badakshan or Chitral), can justify the curious absence of any
historical evidence proving it to have witnessed the crossing of
troops or the incursions of emigrants. For the latter purpose, indeed,
it may have served, but we know too little about the ethnography or
derivation of the Chitral valley tribes to be able to indulge in
speculation on the subject.

What we know of the Dorah is that it is the connecting commercial link
between Badakshan and the Kunar valley during the summer months (July
to September), when mules and donkeys carry over wood and cloth goods
to be exchanged for firearms and cutlery with other produce of a more
local nature, including (so it is said) Badakshi slaves. It has been
crossed in early November in face of a bitter blizzard and piercing
cold, but it is not normally open then. The Nuksan Pass, which is not
far removed from it, is much higher (16,100 feet) and is frequently
blocked by glacial ice; but the Dorah, which steals its way through
rugged defiles from the Chitral valley over the dip in the Hindu Kush
down past the little blue lake of Dufferin into the depths of the
gorges which enclose the upper reaches of the Zebak affluent of the
great Kokcha River of Badakshan, (about which we have heard from
Wood), is the one gateway which is normally open from year to year,
and its existence renders necessary an advanced watch-tower at
Chitral. Like the Baroghel and other passes to the east of it, it is
not the Dorah itself but the extreme difficulty of the narrow ways
which lead to it, the wildness and sterility of the remote regions
which encompass it on either side, which lock this door to anything in
the shape of serious military enterprise.

Beyond the Dorah to the westward, following the Kafiristan divide of
the Hindu Kush, we may well leave unassisted Nature to maintain her
own work of perfect defence, for there is not a track that we can
discover to exist, nor a by-way that we can hear of which passes
through that inconceivably grand and savage wilderness of untamed
mountains. Undoubtedly such tracks exist, but judging from the
remarkable physical constitution of the Kafir, they are such as to
demand an exceptional type of mountaineer to deal with them. It is
only when we work our way farther westward to those passes which lead
into the valleys of the upper Kabul River affluents, from the Khawak
Pass at the head of the Panjshir valley to the Unai which points the
way from Kabul to Bamian, that we find material for sober reflection
derived from the records of the past.

The general characteristics of these passes have been described
already--and something of their history. We have seen that they have
been more or less open doors to India through the ages. Men literally
"in nations" have passed through them; the dynasties of India have
been changed and her destinies reshaped time after time by the
facilities of approach which they have afforded; and if the modern
conditions of things military were now what they were in the days of
Alexander or of Baber, there would be no reason why her destinies
should not once again be changed through use of them. We must remember
that they are not what they have been. How far they have been opened
up by artificial means, or which of them, besides the Nuksan and the
Chahardar, have been so improved, we have no means of knowing, but we
may take it for granted that the Public Works Department of
Afghanistan has not been idle; for we know that that department was
very closely directed by the late Amir, and that his staff of
engineers is most eminent and most practical.[13]

The base of all this group of passes lies in Badakshan, so that the
chief characteristics as gates of India are common to all. It has been
too often pointed out to require repetition that the plains of
Balkh--all Afghan Turkistan in short--lie at the mercy of any
well-organized force which crosses the Oxus southwards; but once that
force enters the gorges and surmounts the passes of the Badakshan
ramparts a totally new set of military problems would be presented.
The narrowness and the isolation of its cultivated valleys; the vast
spaces of dreary, rugged desolation which part them; the roughness and
the altitude of the intervening ranges--in short, the passive
hostility of the uplands and their blank sterility would create the
necessity for some artificial means of importing supplies from the
plains before any formidable force could be kept alive at the front.
Modern methods point to military railways, for the ancient methods
which included the occupation of the country by well-planted military
colonies are no longer available. All military engineers nowadays
believe in a line, more or less perfect, of railway connection between
the front of a field force and its base of supply. But it would be a
long and weary, if not absolutely hopeless, task to bring a railway
across the highlands of Badakshan to the foot of the Hindu Kush from
the Oxus plains.

We have read what Wood has to say of the routes from Kunduz southward
to Bamian and Kabul. This is the recognized trade route; the great
highway to Afghan Turkistan. Seven passes to be negotiated over as
many rough mountain divides, plunges innumerable into the deep-rifted
valleys by ways that are short and sharp, a series of physical
obstacles to be encountered, to surmount any one of which would be a
triumph of engineering enterprise. Amongst the scientific devices
which altitude renders absolutely necessary, would be a repeated
process of tunnelling. No railway yet has been carried over a sharp
divide of 10,000 or 11,000 feet altitude, subject to sudden and severe
climatic conditions, without the protection of a tunnel. As a work of
peaceful enterprise alone, this would be a line probably without a
parallel for the proportion of difficulty compared to its length in
the whole wide world. As a military enterprise, a rapid construction
for the support of a field army, it is but a childish chimera. Yet we
are writing of Badakshan's best road!

It is true that by the Haibak route to Ghori and that ancient military
base of the Greeks, Andarab, the difficulty of the sheer physical
altitude of great passes is not encountered, and there are spaces
which might be pointed out where a light line could be engineered with
comparative facility. Even to reach thus far from the Oxus plains
would be a great advantage to a force that could spend a year or two,
like a Chinese army, in devising its route, but this comparative
facility terminates at the base of the Hindu Kush foot-hills; and it
matters not beyond that point whether the way be rough or plain, for
the wall of the mountains never drops to less than 12,500 feet, and no
railway has ever been carried in the open over such altitudes.
Tunnelling here would be found impossible, owing to the flat-backed
nature of the wide divide. With what may happen in future military
developments; whether a fleet of air-ships should in the farther
future sail over the snow-crested mountain tops and settle, replete
with all military devices in gunnery and stores, on the plains of the
Kohistan of Kabul we need hardly concern ourselves. It is at least an
eventuality of which the risk seems remote at present, and we may rest
content with the Hindu Kush barrier as a defensive line which cannot
be violated in the future as it has been in the past by any formidable
force cutting through Badakshan, without years of preparation and
forewarning.

For any serious menace to the line of India's north-western defence we
must look farther west--much farther west--for enough has been said of
the great swelling highlands of the Firozkohi plateau, and of the
Hazara regions south of the Hari Rud sources, to indicate their
impracticable nature as the scene of military movement. It is, after
all, the highways of Herat and Seistan that form the only avenues for
military approach to the Indian frontier that are not barred by
difficulties of Nature's own providing, or commanded from the sea.
Once on these western fields we are touching on matter which has been
so worn threadbare by controversy that it might seem almost useless to
add further opinions. Historically it seems strange at first sight
that, compared with the northern approaches to which Kabul gives the
command, so very little use has been made of this open way. It was not
till the eighteenth century saw the foundation laid for the Afghan
kingdom that the more direct routes between Eastern Persia and the
Indus became alive with marching troops. The reason is, obviously,
geographical. Neither trade, nor the flag which preceded it from the
west, cared to face the dreary wastes of sand to the south of the
Helmund, backed, as they are, by the terrible band of the Sind
frontier hills full of untamed and untameable tribes, merely for the
purpose of dropping into the narrow riverain of the lower Indus,
beyond which, again, the deserts of Rajputana parted them from the
rich plains of Central India. When the Indus delta and Sind were the
objective of a military expedition, the conquerors came by way of the
sea, or by approaches within command of the sea--never from Herat.
Herat was but the gateway to Kandahar, and to Kabul in the days when
Kabul was "India."

It was not, so far as we can tell, till Nadir Shah, after ravaging
Seistan and the rich towns of the Helmund valley, found a narrow
passage across the Sind frontier hills that any practical use was ever
made of the gates of Baluchistan. Although there are ethnological
evidences that a remnant of the Mongol hordes of Chenghis Khan settled
in those same Sind hills, there is no evidence that they crossed them
by any of the Baluch passes. It seems certain that in prehistoric
times, when the geographical conditions of Western India were
different from what they are now, Turanian peoples in tribal crowds
must have made their way into India southwards from Western Asia, but
they drifted by routes that hugged the coast-line. We have now,
however, replaced the old natural geographical conditions by an
artificial system which totally alters the strategic properties of
this part of the frontier. We have revolutionised the savage
wilderness of Baluchistan, and made highways not only from the Indus
to the Helmund, but from Central India to the Indus. The old barriers
have been broken down and new gateways thrown open. We could not help
breaking them down, if we were to have peace on our borders; but the
process has been attended with the disadvantage that it obliges us to
take anxious note of the roads through Eastern Persia and Western
Afghanistan which lead to them.

For just about one century since the first scare arose concerning an
Indian invasion by Napoleon Bonaparte, have we been alternating
between periods of intense apprehension and of equally foolish apathy
concerning these Western Indian gateways. The rise and fall of public
apprehension might be expressed by a series of curves of curious
regularity. At present we are at the bottom of a curve, for reasons
which it is hardly necessary to enter into; but it is not an inapt
position for a calm review of the subject. There is, then, one great
highway after passing through Herat (which city is about 60 miles from
the nearest Russian military post), a highway which has been quite
sufficiently well described already, of about 360 miles in length
between Herat and Kandahar; Kandahar, again, being about 80 miles
from our frontier--say 500 miles in all; and the distinguishing
feature of this highway between Russia and India is the comparative
ease with which that great Asiatic divide which extends all the way
from the Hindu Kush to the Persian frontier (or beyond) can be crossed
on the north of Herat. There, this great central water-parting, so
formidable in its altitudes for many hundreds of miles, sinks to
insignificant levels and the comparatively gentle gradients of a
debased and disintegrated range. This divide is parted and split by
the passage of the Hari Rud River; but the passage of the river is
hill-enclosed and narrow, with many a rock-bound gorge which would not
readily lend itself to railway-making (although by no means precluding
it), so that the ridges of the divide could be better passed
elsewhere.

We must concede that, taking it for all in all, that 500 miles of
railway gap which still yawns between the Indian and Russian systems
is an easy gap to fill up, and that it affords a road for advance
which (apart from the question of supplies) can only be regarded as an
open highway. Then there is also that other parallel road to Seistan
from the Russian Transcaspian line across the Elburz mountains (which
here represents the great divide) via Mashad--a route infinitely more
difficult, but still practicable--which leads by a longer way to the
Helmund and Kandahar. Were it not for the political considerations
arising from the respective geographical positions of these two
routes, one lying within Persian territory and the other being Afghan,
they might be regarded as practically one and the same. Neither of
them could be used (in the aggressive sense) without the occupation of
Herat, and most assuredly should circumstances arise in which either
of the two should be used (in the same aggressive sense) the other
would be utilized at the same time.

This is, then, the chief problem of Indian defence so far as the
shutting of the gate is concerned, and there are no two ways of
dealing with it. We must have men and material sufficient in both
quantity and quality to guard these gates when open, or to close them
if we wish them shut. The question whether these western gates should
remain as they are, easily traversable, or should yield (as they must
do sooner or later) to commercial interests and admit of an iron way
to link up the Russian and Indian railway systems is really
immaterial. In the latter case they might be the more readily closed,
for such a connection would serve the purposes of a defence better
than those for offence; but in any case in order to be secure we must
be strong.

FOOTNOTE:

[13] Afghan Turkistan and Badakshan are now said to be connected with
Kabul by good motor roads.




INDEX


     Abbas the Great, Shah, 494

     Abbot, General Sir James, cited, 107-109, 119

     Abdurrahmon, Amir, 357, 377, 419

     Ab-i-lal river, 486

     Abistada, Lake, 514

     Abkhana route, 351

     Abu Abdulla Mohammed (Al Idrisi). _See_ Idrisi

     Accadian tradition cited, 34, 73

     Achakzai (Duranis), 212, 361, 375, 491

     Adraskand, 229 _and n._;
       river, 216

     Aegospotami, xiii, 160, 163

     Afghan, Armenian identification of word, 50

     Afghan Boundary Commission. _See_ Russo-Afghan

     Afghan Turkistan:
       Agricultural possibilities of, 251
       Ferrier in, 481
       Greek settlements in, 31
       Kabul, route to:
         Modern improvements in, 419 _and n._, 522 _n._
         Wood's account of, 418-19
       Richness of, known to Tiglath Pilesur, 49
       Route to, by southern passes of Hindu Kush, 378
       Routes to, from Herat, 248
       Slavery in, 253
       Snakes in, 253
       Valley formations in, 253-4

     Afghanistan:
       Arab exploration of, 192
       Assyrian colonies in highlands of, 61
       Barbarity in, 78-9
       Boundary Commission. _See_ Russo-Afghan
       British attitude towards, in early 19th century, 349;
         Afghan attitude towards British, 337-8
       British war with (1839-40):
         Conduct of, 359, 411
         Effects of, 346, 353, 392
         Geographical information acquired during, 411-12
         Remnants of British disasters in, 478
       British war with (1878-80), surveys in connection with, 397, 500
       Christie's and Pottinger's exploration of, 329 _et seq._
       Durani corner of, character of, 212
       _Ethnography of Afghanistan_ (Bellew) cited, 20, 91
       Foreign policy of, 353
       Greek names in, 21
       Helmund boundary of, 80
       Hinterland of India, viewed as, 5
       Indian land gates always held by, 22
       Language of, Persian in origin, 21
       Natural beauty of, 392
       Persia:
         Colonies of, in, 61
         Intrigues of, British nervousness as to, 399-400
         War with (1837), 402
       Persian Empire including, in antiquity, 21
       Rain-storms in, 233-4
       Russian intrigues regarding, British nervousness as to, 399-400
       Russo-Afghan Boundary Commission. _See that title_
       Rulers of (Ben-i-Israel), traditions of, 49-50
       Social conditions in, past and present, 337-8, 395
       Surveying of, gaps in, 501;
         important unexplored regions, 514

     Afghanistan, Central:
       Aimak tribes of, 488-9
       Broadfoot's exploration of, 412, 470 _et seq._
       Conformation of, 215
       Hazara highlands, 84-6
       Records of, scanty, 213-14
       Routes through, 220, 222-3
       Survey of (1882-3), 212, 214

     Afghanistan, North (Baktria):
       Alexander in, 88
       Altitudes of peaks and passes in, 262-3
       Assyrian estimate of, 6
       Irrigation works in, 75-6
       Kafir inhabitants of, 50
       Kyreneans in, 91
       Milesian Greeks (Brankhidai) transported to, 16, 19, 20, 31, 45,
           87, 91;
         survival of Greek strain in, 354-5, 358
       Murghab river's economic value in, 246-7
       Plateau of, 258
       Route to, from Mesopotamia, 47-8, 54, 67-8, 70
       Winter climate of, 240

     Afghanistan, South:
       Christie's and Pottinger's exploration of, 329 _et seq._
       Firearms imported into, 55
       Historic monuments scarce in, 211

     Afghans:
       Burnes' estimate of, 491
       Durani. _See that title_
       European travellers' intercourse with (unofficial), 452, 457-8
       Foreigners, attitude towards, 337-8, 353, 392
       Masson's intimacy with, 346-7, 350, 352, 362-3;
         his influence with, 380
       Slavery, attitude towards, 421

     Afridi (Aprytae), 28, 31

     Aimak tribes of Central Afghanistan, 488-9

     Ak Robat, 446

     Ak Robat pass, 378, 382, 421;
       Wood's account of, 417

     Ak Tepe (Khuzan), 245-6

     Ak Zarat pass, 262

     Akbar Khan (Afghan general), 398

     Akcha (Akbarabad), 449

     Akulphis, 125

     Al Kharij, 313

     Alakah ridge, 257

     Alauddin (Allah-u-din), 218, 467

     Alexander the Great:
       Alexandreia (? Herat) founded by, 77

     Alexander the Great:
       Bakhi obliterated by, 31-2
       Brankhidai of Milesia exterminated by, 20
       Expedition of, to India:
         Aornos episode, 106-107, 109-21
         Army, constituents of, 64-5
         Course and incidents of, 66-8, 70, 76-9, 83, 86-8, 90, 92-4,
           96, 98-100, 103-107, 111-22, 125
         Darius' flight from, 47-8, 67-8
         Geographical information possessed by, 10, 26, 29, 38, 61, 79,
           86, 147
         Greek influence of, in Indus valley less than supposed, 22
         Greeks in Afghanistan welcoming, 16, 63
         Knowledge acquired by, 60
         Mutiny beyond Indus, 46
         Nature of, 60, 65
         Recruitment from Greece during, 92
         Retreat, route of, 38, 51, 86, 145-54, 156, 161-6, 291
         Skythic tribes encountered by, 93
       Marriage of Alexander with Roxana, 92
       Philotas tortured to death by, 78
       Reverential attitude towards, still felt in India, 58-9

     Alexandreia (Bagram, Herat), 77, 87, 93, 96, 393

     Ali Khan, 497

     Ali Masjid, 351

     Aliabad, 421, 505

     Alingar (Kao) river, 96, 99-100, 327, 358, 507, 509

     Alishang river, 99, 356-8, 507

     Alishang valley, Masson in, 396

     Allard, General, 366, 455

     Almar, 249

     Altitude:
       Abstract, mediaeval ignorance of, 279
       As a factor in defence, 419

     Amb (Embolina), 107-108, 114-15, 121

     Ambela pass, 121

     Amise, General, 366

     Amritsar, 363, 367

     Anardara, 335, 336

     Anbar, 250-51

     Andarab (Adraspa, Ariaspa, Zariaspa):
       Alingar river, communication with, 327
       Capital of Greek colonies situated in, 511
       Fertility of, 90
       Greek settlements about, 435
       Haibak route to, 524
       Site of, 272, 427-8
       Strategic importance of, 92, 275, 277, 357
       Timur at, 355
       otherwise mentioned, 243, 272-4, 276

     Andarab river, 268, 272, 428;
       strategic importance of, 261

     Andarab valley, 88, 90, 438, 509

     Andkhui, 248, 439, 448

     Anjuman, 270

     Anjuman valley, 274, 436, 507, 509;
       importance of route, 275;
       unexplored, 427-8

     Aornos, 92, 106-107, 109-21

     Aprytae (Afridi), 28, 31

     Arabian Sea:
       Command of, necessary for safety of southern Baluchistan passes,
         140-41
       Islands in, disappearance of, 286, 288
       Phenomena of, 286-7

     Arabic, derivatives from, 192

     Arabii, 146, 305

     Arabius river. _See_ Purali

     Arabs:
       Ascendency of, in seventh century, 191-2
       Himyaritic, 372
       Indian invasion by, 293-4
       Indian route used by, _via_ Girishk, 209
       Makran under ascendency of, 292-5
       Methods of, mediaeval and modern, 227
       Records of travel by, untrustworthiness of, 213
       Saboean, 372
       Sind under, 293, 311, 366

     Arbela, Arbil. _See_ Erbil

     Arbela, battle of, 47, 67

     Archa pass, 421, 505

     Ardewan pass, 234

     Argandi, 379

     Arghandab river, 83, 86, 208, 224, 515

     Arghastan river, 224

     Argu plain, 424

     Aria, 32, 479. _See also_ Herat

     Ariaspa. _See_ Andarab

     Arigaion, 103

     Arimaspians, 14

     Aristobulus cited, 151-2

     Armail (Armabel, Karabel, Las Bela), 150, 304-307, 320;
       distances to, 303-304

     Armenia, Israelites deported to, 39, 49

     Arnawai valley, 358

     Arrian cited, 19-20, 51, 54, 62-3, 87, 89, 91, 103, 104, 107, 114,
       118, 119, 124, 126, 147, 148, 150, 152-3, 155, 156, 160, 165-6,
       316

     Artakoana, 32, 77, 479. _See also_ Herat

     Artobaizanes, 68

     Asfaka, 312, 314

     Asfaran (? Subzawar), 229-30

     Asmar Boundary Commission (1894), 123

     Asoka, 129

     Aspardeh, 250

     Aspasians, 96, 100, 103, 104

     Aspurkan (? Sar-i-pul), 250, 252

     Assagetes, 114

     Assakenians, 96, 104

     Assakenoi, 121, 126, 129

     Asshur (Assyrian god), 53

     Assur-bani-pal (Sardanapalus), 52, 162-3

     Assyria:
       Afghan colonies of, 61
       Buildings in, nature of, 40-43
       Israelite serfs in, 39

     Assyrian Empire, Second:
       Afghanistan as viewed by, 6
       Art of, 7, 52-4
       Babylonian overthrow of, 52
       Golden age of, 51-3
       Influence of, in India, 70
       Israelites deported by, 16, 39, 44, 49, 61
       Naval fight of, first, 52
       Satrapies, institution of, 44

     Astarab stream and route to Bamian, 252-4;
       valley, 266

     Astarabad, 225

     Astola I. (Haftala), 160

     Attok, Carpatyra probably near, 29

     Auca (Obeh), 225

     Auckland, Lord, 405, 409

     Avitabile, 367

     Azdha of Bamian, 380

     Azdha of Besud, 380


     Babar (Baba) pass, 234, 236, 481

     Baber, Emperor, cited, 133, 358;
       estimate of, 326-7

     Babylon:
       Antiquities of, 73
       Assyria overthrown by, 52
       Barrenness of country round, 41

     Badakshan:
       Alexander in, 93
       Antiquarian treasures in, 511
       Balkh-Pamirs route across, 177-8
       British knowledge of, only recent, 345
       Climate of, 422
       Dorah route from, to Kunar valley, 520
       Exploration of, by Indian surveyors, 268-9
       Geographical knowledge of uplands of, defective, 501, 503, 510
       Greek settlements and remains in, 20, 31, 423
       Kabul, modern all-the-year-round route to, 275-6, 419 _n._,
         522 _n._
       Kafirs anciently in, 132
       Lord's and Wood's mission to, 402
       Moorcroft's journey to, 444
       Railway across uplands to, impracticability of, 523
       Routes to, compared, 414
       Wood's views on, 436-7

     Badakshan (town) (? Jirm), 273-5

     Badakshani transported by Murad Beg, 432, 505

     Badghis, 235, 236, 237

     Bado river, 338-9

     Baghdad:
       Masson at, 368
       Railway from, _via_ Hamadan and Kum, question as to, 322

     Baghlan, 90, 261, 421, 505, 511;
       Greek settlements about, 435

     Baghlan river, 434;
       valley, 437

     Baghnein, 206-208

     Bagisara (? Damizar), 158

     Bagnarghar, 282-3

     Bagram (Alexandreia), 77, 87, 93, 96, 393

     Bahawalpur, 349, 364

     Bahrein Is., 56

     Bahu Kalat (Fahalfahra), 312-14

     Bahu valley, 165

     Baio peak, 120-21

     Bajaor, 103

     Bajaur, 128

     Bajgah, 261, 384

     Bajgah (Parwan, Sar Alang) pass, 414

     Bajitan (Najitan), 225

     Bakhi, 31-32

     Bakhtyari, 32

     Bakkak pass, 256, 262

     Baktra. _See_ Balkh

     Baktria. _See_ Badakshan

     Bakwa plain, 493

     Bala Murghab, 237, 240, 247, 481

     Balangur (Bala Angur), 251

     Balkh:
       Antiquity of, 7, 71, 73
       Approach to, by Akcha road, 72, 73
       Buddhism at, 263, 502-503
       Coins and relics at, 459
       Ferrier's account of, 482
       Importance of, in antiquity, 88
       Khotan, distance from, 177
       Modern, 71-4
       Moorcroft at, 446, 449
       Persian satrapy including, 31
       Routes to, from:
         Bamian, 267-8
         Bokhara, 278
         Herat, 239-40, 247-8
         Kabul, 272-3
         Khotan, 277, 278-9
         Merv, 249-50
         Punjab, 177
         Southward, 257

     Balkh Ab river, 215

     Balkh Ab valley, 252, 255, 257;
       route to Kabul, 259-60

     Balkh plains:
       Antiquarian interest of, 88, 511
       Extent and character of, 74
       Mapping of, 501
       Rivers of, 75
       Waterway ruins of, 76

     Balkh (Band-i-Amir) river:
       Course of, 257-8
       Lakes and aqueducts of, 256
       Sarikoh, junction with, 267
       Scenery of, 262-3
       Source of, 84

     Baluch Confederation:
       Kaiani Maliks at head of, 37
       Lawlessness of, 334

     Baluchistan:
       Arab exploration of, 192
       Desert of, 82
       Exploration of, modern, 194;
         by Christie and Pottinger, 329 _et seq._
       Firearms imported into, 55
       Frontier of, the Gomul, 137
       Hinterland of India, viewed as, 5
       Hot winds of, 341
       Language of, Persian in origin, 21
       Lasonoi emigration to, 30
       Makran. _See that title_
       Mediaeval geography regarding, 200
       Mongol invasion of India through, 526
       Natural features and conditions of, 32-3, 47, 373
       Persian Empire including, 21
       Political intrigue in, 409
       Southern passes from, into India commanded from the sea, 140-41
       Surveying of, 501

     Baluchistan, East:
       Inhabitants of, character of, 373-4
       Masson's travels in, 369

     Baluchistan, South:
       Brahui of, 34
       Configuration of, 48

     Baluchs, Masson's intimacy with, 374

     Bam, 323

     Bamain, 213-14

     Bam-i-dunya. _See_ Pamirs

     Bamian:
       Buddhist relics at, 177, 263, 265-6, 381, 446
       Founding of kingdom of, 218
       Importance of, in Middle Ages, 205, 261-2, 267
       Masson in, 378-86
       Route through, importance of, 438
       Routes to, from:
         Balkh, 267-8
         Ghur, 224
         Kabul (open in winter), 385-6
         Oxus plains, 257
         Sar-i-pul, 252

     Bamian (Unai) pass, 87, 221

     Bamian river, 260, 388

     Bamian valley:
       Description of, 263, 265-6
       Importance of, 437-8

     Bampur:
       Alexander at, 165, 166, 316
       Mountain conformation of, 323
       Pottinger at, 342

     Bampusht Koh mountains, 313

     Band (Binth), 311-12, 314

     Band-i-Amir mountains, 257

     Band-i-Amir river. _See_ Balkh river

     Band-i-Baian (Siah Koh, Sufed Koh) mountains, 84, 215, 486, 487

     Band-i-Nadir, 245

     Band-i-Turkistan, 239, 249, 250, 484

     Banj mountain, 184, 185

     Banjohir (Panjshir), 276-7

     Bannu, 512

     Baraki, 91

     Barbarra (? Mabara), 434

     Barna, Badara (Gwadur), 159

     Barnes, Sir Hugh, 374 _and n._

     Baroghel pass, 517, 521

     Barohi, meaning of term, 34, 163. _See also_ Brahuis

     Bashgol valley, 426

     Bashkird mountains, 200

     Basrah, 368

     _Bassarika_ cited, 62

     Bast, 236

     Bazar (ancient) (Rustam, Bazira, Bazireh), 106, 113, 114

     Bazar (modern) (? Ora), 106

     Bean, Captain, 406-407

     Begram, site of ancient city at, 393;
       Cufic coins at, 394

     Behistan inscriptions cited, 30

     Behvana (Jirena), 245

     Bela (in Baluchistan), 331

     Bela. _See_ Las Bela

     Belchirag, 251, 255, 484

     Bellew cited, 32, 35, 163-4;
       his _Ethnography of Afghanistan_ cited, 20, 91;
       his _Inquiry_ cited, 21

     Belous (Bolous), 200

     Ben-i-Israel, traditions of, 49-50, 378

     Benjawai, 207, 208, 210

     Bentinck, Lord Wm., 344

     Berwan lake, 282

     Bessos (later Artaxerxes), 47, 68, 76, 88, 90

     Besud route to the Helmund, 262

     Besud territory, 378, 380-81

     Bih (Geh), 311-12, 314

     Binadur, 493

     Binth (Band), 311-12, 314

     Birdwood, Sir Geo., cited, 53

     Birmal hills, 513

     Birs Nimrud, 41, 43, 71

     Bist (Kala Bist), 204, 207, 208

     Bitchilik pass, 387

     Blood, Sir Bindon, cited, 120

     Bodh, 372

     Bokhara (Sogdiae):
       Alexander's success in, 92
       Balkh under chief of, 459
       Kabul and Bamian, main route from, 389
       Khulm and Balkh route from, 278
       Modern popularity of, 395
       Moorcroft's journey to, 444

     Bolan (Mashkaf) pass, 139, 362

     Bolar, kingdom of, 327

     Boledi, 36-7

     Bolor, Kafiristan part of, 269

     Bolous (Belous), 200

     Bombay N.I., geographical record of, 454

     Boodhi, 483-4

     Botm, 282 _and n._

     Bouchinj (Zindajan), 479

     Bousik (Boushinj, Pousheng), 231, 234, 237

     Brahmi script cited, 171

     Brahuis (Barohis):
       Baluchistan, in, 331
       Masson's estimate of, 374
       Mingals, 142, 306
       Revolt of, at Kalat, 406
       Sakae, 163-4
       Stock of, 34
       Traditions of, 142

     Brankhidai of Milesia, 20, 91

     Brick buildings of antiquity, 42-3

     Broadfoot, Lieut. J. S., 513;
       travels of, in Central Afghanistan, 412, 470 _et seq._;
       estimate of, 471

     Bubulak, 387

     Buddhism:
       Balkh, at, in antiquity, 72, 263, 502-503
       Bamian, relics in, 263-6, 381, 446
       Building age of, a later development, 170
       Haibak, at, 264-5, 511
       Jalalabad, relics at, 352
       Kashmir, in, 179-80
       Nava Sangharama, 178
       Ritual of, 174-6, 181-2
       Sind, ruins in, 372
       Swat, in, 129
       Takla Makan, in the, 283

     _Buddhist Records of the Western World_, quoted, 175-6

     Buddhiya kingdom, 305-306

     Budu river, 341

     Bunbury cited, 31

     Buner river, 108, 120-21

     Buner valley, Blood's expedition to, 120

     Bushire, 348

     Burhan, Lake, 283

     Burnes, Sir Alexander, Indus navigation by, 368, 454;
       at court of Ranjit Singh, 455-7;
       mission of, to Kabul (1832), 344, 376;
       to Kunduz, 378;
       _Travels in Bokhara_ quoted, 455, 491;
       date of publication, 344, 351;
       commercial mission of, to Kabul (1837), 398-401, 404-405;
       work of, 440-41;
       estimate of, 453, 461

     Burzil pass, 182


     Candace, 479

     Canouj, 273

     Cariat (Kariut), 210

     Carpatyra, 28-9

     Cavalry on frontier expeditions, 117

     Celadon ware, 82-3, 197, 300

     Chach of Sind, 303, 306

     Chachnama of Sind cited, 305

     Chagai, 335

     Chagan Sarai, 130

     Chahar Aimak, 212, 214, 481

     Chaharburjak, 81

     Chahardar (Chapdara) pass, 261, 415, 419, 522
       Height of, 357
       Military road over, 277

     Chaharshamba river and route to Balkh from Herat, 242, 248

     Chahil Abdal (Chalapdalan) mountain, 223, 486, 488

     Chahilburj, 257, 267

     Chahiltan heights, 370-71

     Chakesar ford, 121

     Chakhansur, 497

     Chalapdalan (Chahil Abdal) mountain, 223, 486, 488

     Chandragupta (Sandrakottos), 129

     Chapdara pass. _See_ Chahardar

     Charbar, 299

     Chardeh plain, 379

     Charikar:
       Military road from, over Chapdara pass, 277
       Strategical position of, 357

     Charsadda, 114

     Chashma Sabz pass, 234, 235

     Chenghiz Khan, 72, 85, 142, 193, 194, 218, 267, 376, 526

     Cherchen, 174

     China, Buddhist pilgrimage routes from, 169 _et seq._, 502, 518

     Chinese Turkistan:
       Buddhist occupation of, 280
       Conditions of life in, in antiquity, 171, 172
       Tibet, included in, 283

     Chiras, 252

     Chitral, passes converging on, 426-7, 519

     Chitral river. _See_ Kunar river

     Chitral valley:
       Accessibility of, 517
       Dorah route to, 519-20

     Choaspes. _See_ Kunar

     Chol country, 236, 238, 246, 247, 258

     Christians:
       Armenian, in Kabul, 377
       Merv, at, 241
       Sakah, at, 229

     Christie, Captain, 329 _et seq._

     Chumla river, 108;
       valley, 121

     Climate as affecting race distribution, 8, 46

     Conolly, Lieut., 390

     Cophaeus, 114

     Court, M., 455, 457

     Crockery debris, 82, 197

     Cufic coins, 394

     Cunningham, General, cited, 106, 148

     Curtius, Quintus, cited, 107, 122, 148-9, 221, 459

     Cyrus, King of Persia, 79, 147


     Dadar, 362

     Dahuk (? Dashtak), 304

     Dames, Longworth, cited, 201

     Damizar (? Bagisara), 158

     Dand, 472

     Dandan Shikan pass, 260, 384, 421;
       Wood's account of, 418

     Daolatabad, 249

     Daolatyar, 221, 223-4, 256, 486

     Daraim valley, 424

     Darak (Dizak), 311-14

     Darak Yamuna (Yakmina), 317

     Dards, 31

     Darel (To-li), 179, 182-3

     Darel stream, 183-4

     Darius, flight of, from Alexander, 47, 67;
       death of, 70

     Darius Hystaspes, transportation of Greeks by, 16, 19, 20, 31, 45,
       87, 91

     Darra Yusuf river, 257, 200

     Darwaz mountains, 432-3

     Darya-i-Zarah (Gaod-i-Zireh), 204

     Dasht river, 165

     Dasht-i-bedoulat plain, 362, 370

     Dasht-i-Lut, 323

     Dasht-i-Margo desert, 81, 495

     Dawar (Zamindawar), 83, 205-206, 223, 491

     Deane, Major Sir H., cited, 129

     Debal, 293, 301, 303, 307, 308, 310

     Deh Dadi, 257

     Dehao (? Dehi), 483

     Dehertan (? Dahertan), 236, 237

     Dehgans, 269

     Dehi (? Dehao), 483

     _Delight of those who seek to wander through the Regions of the
      World, The_ (Idrisi), cited, 199 _et seq._

     Dendalkan, 245, 246

     Dera Ismail Khan, 463

     Derah, 245

     Derak (Dizek), 244

     Dereh Mustapha Khan (Deria-dereh), 487

     Derenbrosa, I., 159

     Derthel, 206-208, 210

     Deserts as barriers, 7-9

     Dev Hissar fortress, 484-5

     Dev Kala, 89, 92

     Dihsai (Dshara), 465-6

     Diodoros cited, 107

     _Dionysiaka_ cited, 62

     Dir valley, 129

     Dizak (Darak), 311-14

     Dizek (Derak), 244

     Djil, 273

     Doctors as travellers, 463

     Domai (Manora), I., 154

     Domandi, 464, 513

     Dorah pass, 508-509;
       nature and importance of, 426-7, 519-21

     Dorak (? Dizek), 245

     Dosh, 261

     Doshak. _See_ Jalalabad

     Doshak range, 233

     Dost Mahomed Khan, 344, 353, 359, 390, 403, 444, 462, 490;
       operations by, against Sikhs, 397-8;
       methods and estimate of, 360

     Drangia. _See_ Seistan

     Dravidian Brahuis, 306

     Dravidian races entering India, 142-4

     Dshara (Dihsai), 465-6

     Dufferin lake, 520

     Durand, 471

     Durani Afghans:
       Districts inhabited by, 212
       Herat under occupation of, 348
       Shikarpur, at, 363
       Truculence of, 212, 490
       Zarangai alleged to be recognisable as, 33-4

     Duvanah valley, 424

     Dwa Gomul river, 475


     Eastward migrations, 6, 7, 9, 45, 49

     Ecbatana:
       Darius' flight to, 47-8, 67
       Route, direct, to India from, 51

     Egypt, buildings in, 40

     Elam, 163

     Elburz mountains:
       Alexander's passage of, 74, 76, 258
       Rivers of, 75
       Road across, 528
       mentioned, 74, 257

     Elliott, Sir H., cited, 302, 304, 305;
       quoted, 313

     Embolina (Amb), 107-108, 114-15, 121

     Erbil (Arbil):
       Battle of Arbela at, 47
       Route from, to Hamadan, 48

     Ersari Turkmans, 251, 459-60

     Esar Haddon, King of Assyria, 52

     Ethiopians, Asiatic, problem regarding, 34-6, 163

     Euxine (Black Sea):
       Milesian colonies S. and W. of, 18
       Skythic nomads N. of, 14, 19

     Explorations of Indian trans-frontier, recentness of, 1, 17, 32,
       60, 345


     Fa Hian, 170, 172, 178, 180, 181, 184-5;
       quoted, 174-6, 179, 183

     Fahalfahra (Bahu Kalat), 312-14

     Fahraj (Pahrag, Pahra, Pahura), 315, 317;
       two places so named, 316

     Faizabad:
       Dorah route from, 519
       Situation of, 273-4, 425
       Wood's account and estimate of, 422, 425
       Zebak, route from, 511
       mentioned, 279, 506

     Farah (Prophthasia):
       Alexander the Great at, 78
       Antiquity of, 7
       Ferrier at, 493-4
       Herat, route from, 230-34
       Situation of, 7

     Farah Rud river, 204, 216, 221, 336, 488, 494

     Farajghan, 356

     Fardan (? Bampur or Pahra), 315-17

     Farsi, 223

     Fazilpur, 365

     Fazl Hag, 458

     Ferengal, lead mines at, 416

     Ferghana, 282

     Ferrier, M., career of, 477;
       at Herat, 477-8;
       journey across Firozkohi plateau, 476, 478, 484;
       route to Ghur, 485-7;
       imprisonments of, 491-3;
       at Farah, 493-4;
       in Seistan, 496-7;
       back to Herat, 498;
       methods of, 346;
       estimate of, 476, 480, 498;
       cited, 214, 231, 335, 516;
       _Caravan Journeys_ cited, 497

     Ferrying by ponies, 89-90, 449, 460-61

     Feruk (Feruckabad), 449

     Firabuz (Kanazbun), 302-303;
       distances from, 304, 313, 317

     Firozand, 207

     Firozkohi (mediaeval capital of Ghur), 219

     Firozkohi plateau:
       Ferrier's journey across, 476, 478, 484;
         route to Ghur, 485-7
       Impracticability of, for military operations, 525
       Outlook from, 266
       mentioned, 247, 258

     Firozkohis:
       District of, 84, 214, 217, 219, 253
       Origin of, 481

     Foosheng, 231

     Forbes, Dr., murder of, 497

     Forrest's _Selections from Travels and Journals preserved in the
       Bombay Secretariat_ quoted, 348, _and n._


     Gadrosia. _See_ Makran

     Gadrosii, 146, 151

     Gaduns, 111

     Gadurs, 35

     Galjin, 497

     Gandhara (Upper Punjab), 99, 179, 185

     Gandava (Sind), 305

     Gaod-i-Zireh (Darya-i-Zarah), 204

     Gardandiwal, 260, 379, 388

     Gauraians, 96

     Gauraios river. _See_ Panjkora

     Gawargar, 267

     Gazban (Karbis), 159

     Gazdarra pass, 465, 472

     Geh (Bih), 311-12, 314

     Geography:
       Ancient records of, absence of, 14-16, 18, 29
       Distances, difficulties of estimating, by "a day's journey," 298
       Influence of, on migratory movements, 9, 45-6;
         on history, 214
       Makran, of, 295 _et seq._
       Official _v._ unofficial, 332, 345
       Persian, extent and accuracy of, 17, 25-6, 29, 31
       Recent advances in, 1, 17, 32, 60

     Gerard, Dr., 376, 395

     Germany, firearms from, imported to Persia, Seistan, etc., 55

     Gharan, 429

     Gharo river, 153

     Ghazni (region):
       Raids from, 136
       Vigne's exploration of, 462, 465

     Ghazni river, 468

     Ghazni (town):
       Alauddin's sack of, 218
       Desolation of, 210-11, 376
       Kandahar, route to, 512
       Masson at, 359-60
       Vigne at, 467

     Ghaznigak, 261

     Ghilzais (Khilkhis):
       Districts of, 375-6
       Importance of, 206, 212
       Suliman Khel. _See that title_

     Ghizao, 515

     Ghorband drainage system, 468

     Ghorband river, 413

     Ghorband valley:
       Beauty of, 97
       Easy pass to, 260, 261, 387
       Lead mines in, 416
       Military road up, 277

     Ghori, 524

     Ghoweh Kol (? Pai Kol), 380

     Ghulam Khana, 385

     Ghur:
       Ferrier at, 478
       Ghazni to, no direct route from, 220

     Ghur, kingdom of:
       Description and history of, in mediaeval times, 205, 211-13,
         217-19
       Routes through, in mediaeval times, 220-24

     Ghur river, 204, 221, 488

     Ghur valley, 221-2

     Ghurian (Koure), 231-2

     Giaban headland, 159

     Gichki, 37

     Gilgit basin, 517;
       river, 182

     Girishk:
       Ferrier's imprisonment at, 491-3
       Ford at, 204, 206-10
       Kandahar route by, 490
       Ruins at, 492

     Gish (war god), 131

     Glass, Arabic, 300

     Gobi desert, 171

     Goes, Benedict, 327-8

     Goldsmid, General Sir F., 299

     Gomul river, 136, 464, 473-4

     Gomul route from the Indus to Ghazni, Vigne's exploration of, 462,
       512, 513

     Gondakahar (Gandakahar, Gondekehar) caves, 305, 306, 320

     Gondrani caves, 305, 306

     Granikos river, 66

     Great Britain:
       Afghan attitude towards, 337-8;
         British attitude towards Afghanistan in early nineteenth
           century, 349
       Afghan war (1839-40). _See_ Afghanistan, British war with
       Afghan war (1878-80), surveys in connection with, 397, 500
       Sixteenth century, condition of England in, 2

     Greeks:
       Baghlan and Andarab, settlements about, 435
       Baktria, deportation to, 87, 91;
         survival of strain in, 354-5, 358, 423
       Dionysian, migration of, to Indian frontier, 16, 19, 62-3,
         124-5, 358, 423
       Indian art, influence on, 59-60
       Kyrenean, in Baktria, 91
       Milesian. _See that title_
       Persian Empire, relations with, 20-21, 36, 61
       Women of, as influencing language in Indus valley, 22

     Grierson, Dr., cited, 132

     Gulgula citadel, 381, 386

     Gulkatz, 473

     Gulkoh mountain, 515

     Gulran (? Kilrin), 235

     Gurkhas in Nepal, 188

     Guzwan (? Gurkan, Juzjan, Jurkan, Jirghan), 250, 251, 255

     Gwadur (Barna, Badara), 159, 299

     Gwalian (Walian) pass, 414


     Habibullah, 444

     Haftala (Astola, Hashtala, Nuhsala, Nosala) Island, 161, 286

     Haibak (Semenjan):
       Andarab, distance from, 272;
         route to, 524
       Buddhist remains at, 177, 264-5, 511
       Description of, 271
       Moorcroft at, 446
       mentioned, 261, 482

     Haidar, cited, 186, 327

     Haidarabad, 399

     Haig, General, 27;
       cited, 309-10;
       _Indus Delta Country_ by, cited, 145, 153

     Haji Khan, 378-87, 417

     Hajigak pass, 260, 420, 446;
       Masson's account of, 388;
       Wood's account of, 417

     Hajjaj, 292

     Hala pass, 150

     Hamadan, 322;
       telegraph route from, to Teheran, 48

     Harat Rud, 498

     Hari Rud river:
       Course of, 528
       Herat-Kabul route by, 248, 256, 262
       Pul-i-Malun across, 229 _n._, 230
       Source of, 84, 256

     Hari Rud valley, 215, 485-6, 528

     Hariana, 276-7

     Harnai pass, 139

     Hazaras:
       Characteristics of, 216, 481
       Country of, nature of, 84-6, 214, 221, 516;
         British interest in, merely academic, 514
       Forced labour of, 380-81
       Haji Khan's treachery against, 384
       Kidnapping of, by Taimanis, 253
       Masson's relations with, 387-8
       Slave-gangs of, 421
       Trading of, 252
       Women of, Ferrier's account of, 485
       Yezdambaksh, under, 378-9

     Hazart Ghaos, 371

     Hazrat Baba Kamur, 505

     Hazrat Imam, 432-3, 504, 505, 506

     Hedin, Sven, 170

     Helawerd, 274

     Helmund basin, 201;
       central unexplored, 512

     Helmund river (Etymander):
       Course of:
         Description of, 81-2, 83-4, 379
         Variations in, 79-80, 202
       Crossing-places on, 204-10, 380
       Detritus borne by, 81
       Indus, route to, 527
       Northern branches of, unexplored, 515
       Ruins bordering, 492
       Unexplored portion of, 512, 515

     Helmund valley:
       Antiquarian treasures in, 496
       Description of, 79 _et seq._
       Nadir Shah in, 526
       Pottery debris in, 197
       Survey of, thoroughness of, 207

     Hephaestion, 94, 95, 99, 150, 151

     Herat (Aria):
       Ancient cities on or near site of, 77
       Balkh, routes to, 239-40, 247-8
       Capital of Ghur in mediaeval times, 219
       Christie at, 336-7
       Commerce of, during Arab supremacy, 225
       Defence of, against the Persians (1837), 402
       Description of, by Idrisi, 228
       Durani occupation of, 348
       Farah, route to, 230-34
       Ferrier at, 477;
         his views as to, 479
       India, military route to, 525-6
       Kabul, route to, by Hari Rud, 248, 256, 262;
         other routes, 257
       Kandahar, direct route to, 490, 525-8
       Mosalla, 228
       Panjdeh and Merv, route to, 236
       Persian satrapy including, 32
       Persian siege of, 477
       Tributary to Ghur in mediaeval times, 218

     Herat valley, 202, 205, 211-12, 217;
       route from, to India, 209;
       trees in, 237

     Herodotus cited, 17, 25, 26, 30, 31, 33-4, 56, 163

     Hicks, 469

     Hindu Koh range, 182

     Hindu Kush mountains:
       Direction of, 4
       Geographical knowledge of, defective, 508-9
       Passes over, 274, 327, 328, 357, 378, 381-2, 387, 413-15,
           426-7, 434-5, 507, 517, 519-25
         Andarab in relation to, 275, 277
         Command of, 261
         Masson's account of, 388
         Mediaeval use of, 277
         Wood's account of, 417-18
       Snow line of, on north and south sides, 415

     Hinglaz mountain and shrine, 162-3

     Hingol river, 291;
       Alexander at, on the retreat, 151, 157, 161-3, 166

     History, unimportance of, to the ancients, 11, 25

     Hiuen Tsiang cited, 178

     Honigberger, M., 394-5, 462, 468

     Hormuz, 200

     Housab, 225

     Huc, Abbe, cited, 439, 440

     Huec Sheng, 184

     Huen Tsang cited, 262, 279

     Huntington, Ellsworthy, cited, 8, 278

     Hunza (Kunjut), 180-81

     Hupian, 394

     Hyperboreans, 14, 19


     Ibn Batuta cited, 210

     Ibn Haukel of Baghdad cited, 203, 217, 228-31, 236, 237, 243,
         251, 255, 295, 303;
       _Ashkalu l' Bilad_ of, quoted, 304, 308-309;
       map of Makran by, cited, 297-8, 307, 312, 313

     Ichthyophagi, 160, 318

     Idrisi (Abu Abdulla Mohammed) cited,199 _et seq._, 301-304,
         307-309, 312, 313, 315-17, 427-8, 434, 446;
       quoted, 303, 314, 316-17

     Ilchi (Khotan), 172

     _Iliad_ cited, 12

     Imam Sharif, 222

     India (_for particular districts, rivers, etc., see their names_):
       Aboriginal inhabitants of, 157
       Afghanistan:
         Commercial treaty with, attempted, 397;
           Burnes' mission, 398-401, 404-5
         Land gates of India always in possession of, 22
       Arab invasion of, by land and sea, 287
       Art of:
         Assyrian influence on, 7, 52-4
         Greek influence on, 6, 22, 59-60, 129
         Syrian and Armenian influence on, 6
       Aryan influx to, 61
       Assyrian influence in, 70;
         on art, 7, 52-4
       Bombay N.I., record of, 454
       Defences of, natural:
         North and north-east frontier, on, 3
         South frontier, on--ridge and valley formation, 140;
         Indus to Punjab desert, 7, 143-4, 226, 526
       Dravidian races entering, 142-4, 158
       Gold-fields of, 51
       Government of:
         Characteristics of, 408-10
         Masson's criticisms of, 408, 409
       Greek impression left on, slightness of, 59
       History of, ancient, non-existent, 11
       Makran route to. _See under subheading_ Routes
       N.W. barrier of, true situation of, 5
       Population of, not indigenous, 49
       Railway systems of, 324
       Rajput families of, 7
       Routes to:
         Makran route:
           Arab supremacy, under, 226, 294, 311
           Importance of, in antiquity, 167-8
           Modern ignorance regarding, 141;
             modern possibilities as to, 319-24
         Northern, from Mongolia, 169 _et seq._, 186 _et seq._
         Persian, 311, 319, 321-4
         Sea-routes to N.W. in antiquity, 55
       Russian designs as to, question of, 319-20
       Trade of:
         Persian, 21
         Syrian and Phoenician, 13, 45
         Wealth of, 295
       Turanian races in, 157-8

     Indian Survey, 183

     Indus river (Sintu ho):
       Boundary of early exploration, 7
       Burnes' flotilla on, 454
       Course of, variations in, 26-7, 296
       Delta of, area of, 27
       Desert flanking, 143-4, 226, 526
       Gharo, creek of, 153
       Gorge of, below the Darel, 183-4
       Haig's _Indus Delta Country_ cited, 145, 153
       Navigability of, near Baio, 121
       Opening of, to commercial navigation, Burnes' mission regarding
         (1837), 399
       Rann of Katch, estuary of, in antiquity, 144
       Routes from, to Helmund river and Central India, 527
       Voyage down, by Scylax, 26-8

     Indus valley:
       Climate of, 46;
         fog, 85-6
       Greek and Arabic remains in, 364;
         Greek language and its disappearance, 21, 59
       Inscriptions, undecipherable, found in, 129-30
       Mahomedan supremacy in, 293
       Pathans in, ancient settlement of, 28
       Persian satrapy including large part of, 31
       Routes to, through Makran, 141. _See also under_ India--Routes
       Vegetation in, in antiquity, 121-2

     Inscriptions on stone slabs, 129-30;
       on bricks, 494, 496, 499

     Irak, 292;
       valley, 387;
       stream, 388;
       pass, 417

     Irrigation in Afghanistan, 75-6, 475

     Ishak Khan, 261

     Ishkashm, 429

     Islam. _See_ Mahomedanism

     Ispahan:
       Railway from, question as to, 319, 321-2
       Telegraph route from, to Panjgur, 322

     Ispahak pass, Wood's description of, 417

     Israelites:
       Assyrian deportation of, 16, 39, 44, 49, 61
       Disappearance of, as a nation, 40

     Issyk Kul lake, 173

     Istakhri of Persepolis cited, 295, 302, 303, 307, 308, 312


     Jabar Khan, 462, 469

     Jacobabad, 139

     Jacquet, Eugene, 395

     Jadran hills, 513

     Jadwa, 236

     Jagdallak defile, 95

     Jahanabad, 497

     Jhal, 371

     Jalalabad (Doshak), 335, 497;
       Buddhist relics near, 177, 352

     Jalawan Brahuis, 164

     Jalk, 335

     Jam Kala, 222

     Jamrud, 398

     Jamshidis, 214, 216, 481

     Jaor, 486

     Jats, Jatas, 293, 501

     Jawani, 336

     Jebel al Ghur, 217

     Jerkere, 231

     Jews (Yahudi):
       Afghan hatred of, 50, 377
       Balkh, at, 71
       Sar-i-pul, at, 252
       Transportations of, 44
       Yahudia, at 251, 255

     Jihun. _See_ Oxus.

     Jil district, 278

     Jilgu river, 475

     Jirena (Behvana), 245

     Jirghan (? Jurkan, Gurkan, Juzjan, Guzwan), 250, 251, 255;
       range, 249

     Jirift, 201

     Jirm (? Badakshan), 270, 506
       Position and importance of, 270, 274-5
       Wood's estimate of, 422, 425-6

     Joubert's translation of Idrisi cited. _See_ Idrisi

     _Journal of the Royal Society of Arts_ cited, 146

     Junasdara pass, 424-5

     Jurkan (Gurkan, Juzjan, ?Guzwan or Jirghan), 250, 251, 255;
       range, 249

     Jutes, 61


     Kabadian, 278

     Kabul:
       Arab expedition against, 292
       Burnes' mission to (1832), 344, 376;
         his commercial mission to (1837-8), 392, 398-401, 404-405
       Hicks' tomb at, 469
       Masson British agent in, 397;
         his account of, 376-7
       Mediaeval estimate of, as "Indian" town, 211, 219, 226, 262;
         mediaeval description quoted, 211
       Modern conditions in, social and material, 377
       Moorcroft's journey to, 444
       Routes to and from:
         Afghan Turkistan, Wood's account of route to, 418-19;
           modern improvements in, 419 _and n._, 522 _n._
         Andarab, Khafila road to, 88
         Badakshan, all-the-year-round route to, 275-6, 419 _n._
         Balkh, Frontier Commission's route from, 272-3
         Bamian, route to, open in winter, 385-6
         Bokhara and Bamian, main route to, 389
         Herat, route from, by Hari Rud, 248, 256, 262;
           other routes, 257
         Kunduz, 416, 523
         Mazar and Band-i-Amir, by, 259-261
         Peshawar _via_ Kuram valley and Peiwar pass, 135
         Punjab, route from:
           Buddhist character of, 177
           Kunar, Laghman and Lundai valleys, by, 101
         Sar-i-pul, from, 252
       Vigne at, 468-9

     Kabul province, India in Middle Ages, 277

     Kabul (Kophen, Nahrwara) river:
       Alexander's probable course along, 100
       Source of, 84
       mentioned, 96, 276

     Kabul river basin (Ki-pin), 96, 176, 215

     Kabulis, 492

     Kach (Kaj), meaning of term, 35

     Kach Gandava, 305-306

     Kafir wine, 133-4

     Kafiristan:
       Homogeneity of natives of, 508
       Inhabitants of, 96, 269
       Ivy and vine in, 124
       Timur's invasion of, 327, 355-6
       Unexplored wildness of, 269-70

     Kafirs in Afghanistan:
       Badakshan, in, 437
       Ignorance regarding, 269-70
       Kunar valley, in, 102-103;
         two Kafirs of Kamdesh, 131-2
       Siahposh. _See that title_

     _Kafirs of the Hindu Kush, The_ (Robertson), cited, 510

     Kafzur (Hajigak) pass, 417

     Kah, 267, 268

     Kaiani of Seistan, 34

     Kaiani kingdom, ruins of, 82

     Kaiani Maliks, 37, 208

     Kaibar river, 232

     Kaisan (Kasan) river, 272

     Kaisar drainage, 248-9

     Kala Bist, 204, 207, 208

     Kala Sarkari, 260

     Kala Sarwan, 206-208

     Kala Shahar, 251, 255

     Kala-i-Fath, 355, 496, 497

     Kalagan, 342

     Kalah, ruins of, 42

     Kalama (Khor Khalmat), 158

     Kalapani river, 106

     Kalat, 323
       British expedition to, 406
       Christie and Pottinger at, 332
       Masson at, 370-71
       Strategic position of, 138-9

     Kalat-i-Ghilzai (Khilkh), 206, 210

     Kalatak, 301

     Kalawun, 236, 238

     Kalloo (Panjpilan) pass, 417

     Kalu, 388

     Kalwan (? Kolwah), 304

     Kaman-i-Bihist, 232, 236

     Kamard, Tajik chief of, 383, 384, 421

     Kamard valley, 260, 261, 437

     Kambali (? Khairokot), 150, 307-308

     Kamdesh, 131

     Kamran, Shah, 403

     Kanazbun (Firabuz), 302-303;
       distances from, 304, 313, 317

     Kandabel, 305

     Kandahar:
       Flank march on, possibility of, 204-5
       Indian frontier, distance from, 528
       Kabul compared with, in matter of tolerance, 377
       Leech's mission to, 401-402
       Masson at, 360-61
       Mediaeval insignificance of, 210
       Routes from, to:
         Ghazni, 512
         Herat, 490;
           Herat as gateway to, 525-8
         Kabul, Alexander's, 86-7
         Kalat, _via_ Mangachar valley, 374-5
         Sonmiani, 331

     Kandahar (in Kach Gandava), 305-306

     Kandaharis, 492

     Kanowar, 238

     Kao river. _See_ Alingar

     Kaoshan pass, 435:
       Alexander's passage of, tradition as to, 87
       Greek control of, before Alexander's expedition, 20, 91;
         Greek use of, 277
       Height of, 88, 357
       "Hindu Kush," known as the pass of, 414

     Kara pass, 260, 418

     Karabel (Armail, Armabel, Las Bela), 304-307, 320

     Karabel plateau:
       Description of, 248
       Route across, from near Panjdeh to Balkh, 250

     Karabia I., 159

     Karabine, 158

     Karachi:
       Approaches to, 140-41
       Configuration of, changes in, 153
       Makran route to, modern possibilities as to, 319-24
       Malir waterworks, 310
       Masson refused landing at, 368
       Voyage from, to Persian Gulf (by Nearkhos), 146, 152-61

     Karakoram pass, 180

     Karakoram trade route, 181, 517;
       description of, 3-4

     Karaks, 286, 292

     Karamat Ali, Saiad, 390

     Karapa route, 351

     Karat, 231

     Karbat, 250

     Karbis (Gazban), 159

     Kardos, 327

     Kardozan, 479

     Karez Ilias route to Sarakhs, 234

     Karia Pir, 307

     Kariut (Cariat), 210

     Karmania, 32, 165

     Karmatians, 293, 311

     Karomurs, 71

     Karosthi language, 280;
       script cited, 171

     Kartchoo, 482

     Karuj (Korokh), 236, 237

     Karwan (? Parwan), 276-7

     Karza (? Kafza) pass, 382, 385

     Kasan, 511;
       stream, 428

     Kashan, 322;
       river, 236, 237, 240;
       valley, 481

     Kashmir (Kie-sha):
       Buddhism in, 179-80
       Fa Hian in, 178-9, 182
       Persian knowledge of, 31

     Kashmir passes, no records of military use of, 517

     Kashmund mountains, 100, 101

     Kashran (? Khasrin), 317

     Kaspioi, 31

     Kaspira (Kasmira), 31

     Kasr Akhif (Ahnef), 245

     Kasrkand, 311-12, 314

     Kasur spur, 426

     Kataghani horses, 504-505

     Katan Chirak, 132

     Katawar, 355

     Kattasang, 472

     Kattawaz plain, 465, 472, 475

     Kawak (Khawak), 355

     Kawakir, 235

     Kej (Kiz, Kirusi, ?Labi), 301-302

     Kej valley, 297

     Kenef, 238

     Kunjut (Hunza), 180-181

     Kerman desert, 201;
       valley, 262

     Kermanshah, 322

     Ketnev, 356

     Khaibar route to India:
       Evil reputation of, 458
       Hyphaestion's march by, 95
       Masson's journey by, 351-2

     Khair, 310

     Khair Kot (? Kambali), 150, 307-308

     Khalmat tombs, 196, 310-11

     Khan Nashin, 495

     Khana Yahudi, 257

     Khanabad, 423, 506

     Kharachanabad (Khardozan), 230

     Kharan, 331, 335, 339

     Kharan desert, 339-41

     Khardozan (Kharachanabad), 230

     Khariab river, 278

     Khariab (Kokcha) river, 270, 273, 274

     Kharkerde, 231

     Kharotis, 513

     Khash, 495

     Khash Rud valley, 204

     Khashka pass, 387

     Khasrin (? Kashran), 317

     Khawak pass:
       Height of, 357, 435
       Importance of, 521
       Popularity of, 414
       Timur at, 327, 355, 435
       otherwise mentioned, 261, 275, 277, 419, 428, 434, 507

     Khawak river, 274

     Khazar, 388

     Khilkh (Kalat-i-Ghilzai), 206

     Khilkhis. _See_ Ghilzais

     Khiva (Khwarezm), 218, 244

     Khizilji Turks, 281-2

     Khoes river, 99-100

     Khoja Mahomed range, 424, 436, 437, 506, 507

     Khojak range, 139

     Khor Khalmat (Kalama), 158

     Khorasan, 348

     Khorienes, 93

     Khotan (Ilchi):
       Balkh, distance from, 177;
         route to, 277, 278-9
       Buddhist centre, as, 172, 174

     Khozdar:
       Christie and Pottinger at, 331
       Masson at, 373
       Turan, capital of, 315

     Khulm, 88, 270-72, 416;
       river, 84

     Khur, 308, 310

     Khurd Kabul defile, 95

     Khud Rud, 515

     Khuzan (Ak Tepe), 245-6

     Khwaja Amran (Kojak) range, 374

     Khwaja Chist, 217, 223

     Khwaja Salar, 448, 449, 460

     Khwarezm (Khiva), 218, 244

     Ki-pin (Kabul river basin), 176

     Kie-sha. _See_ Kashmir.

     Kila Adraskand, 229 _n._

     Kila Gaohar, 485

     Kila Khum, 511

     Kila Maur, 237, 245

     Kila Panja, 430

     Kila Shaharak, 486

     Kila Sofarak, 256

     Kila Wali, 243, 248

     Kilif, 279;
       pony ferry at, 89-90, 460

     Kilik pass, 180, 517

     Kilrin (? Gulran), 235

     Kir (Kiz) Kaian, 313-17

     Kirghiz (? Kirkhirs):
       Idrisi's account of, 282-3
       Wood's estimate of, 430

     Kirman, 311, 313-15, 322-3;
       telegraph _via_, to India, 69

     Kirman desert, 147

     Kirthar range, 140

     Kishm, 509

     Kiz (Kirusi, Kej, ?Labi), 301-302

     Kiz (Kir) Kaian, 313-17

     Kizzilbash, 467

     Knidza (Kyiza), 160

     Koh Daman:
       Alexander at, 94
       Description of, 96-7
       Lord's expedition to, 412-13

     Koh-i-Babar (Baba) mountains:
       Altitude of, 263
       Nature and direction of, 84, 381
       Rivers starting from, 215

     Koh-i-Basman, 323

     Koh-i-Malik Siah, 209

     Koh-i-Mor (Meros) mountains, 105, 123-4, 358

     Koh Umber mountain, 423, 506

     Kohendil Khan, 493

     Kohistan:
       Inhabitants of, 96
       Mountain scenery of, 392

     Kohistan plains, 87

     Kohistani, 486

     Kohistani Babas, 487

     Kohnak divide, 513

     Kojak (Khwaja Amran) range, 374

     Kokcha (Khariab, Minjan) river:
       Course of, nature of, at Faizabad, 424, 425
       Mouth of, 434
       Robertson's view regarding, 510
       Route by headwaters of, nature of, 426, 427, 436
       mentioned, 270, 273, 274, 507, 520

     Kokcha valley, 424, 425, 427

     Kokhar Ab river, 515

     Kolab, 433-4

     Kolar gold-fields, 51

     Kolwah (? Kalwan), 304

     Konche river, 174

     Kophen river. _See_ Kabul river

     Korokh (Karuj), 236, 237, 239, 240

     Kotal-i-bed, 374

     Kotal Murgh pass, 90

     Kotanni pass, 513

     Koure (Ghurian), 231-2

     Koyunjik mound, 43

     Krateros, 103, 147

     Krokala, 148, 153, 156

     Kua (Kau), 235, 236

     Kudabandan, 303

     Kuen Lun mountains, 171, 172, 173

     Kufs, 200

     Kughanabad, 236

     Kuhsan, Kusan (? Kuseri, Kouseri), 232-3, 239, 479

     Kum, 322

     Kunar (Choaspes, Chitral) river, 122, 431;
       importance of, 100

     Kunar (Choaspes, Chitral) valley:
       Description of, 100-103
       Direction of, 509-10
       Dorah route from, 520
       Ivy and vine in, 133
       Kafirs in, 102-103;
         of Kamdesh, 131-2
       Masson's investigations as to, 396
       Survey of (1894), 123

     Kundar river, 464

     Kunduz (town):
       Burnes' mission to, 378
       Description of, 504
       Lord's invitation to, 413, 416, 420-422
       Southward routes from, to Bamian and Kabul, 523
       Warwalin near, 272
       Wood's estimate of, 422

     Kunduz district:
       Fortified towns of, 504
       Pestilential climate of, 432, 447-9, 505
       Kunduz river, 261, 421, 428, 436, 505;
         scenery of, 257, 259-260

     Kunduz valley route to Kabul, 434

     Kunjut, 186

     Kupruk, 257

     Kuram, 482-3, 505

     Kuram valley route, 135, 512

     Kurchi, 251

     Kurdistan hills, 322

     Kurt (Tajik) dynasty in Ghur, 218

     Kuseri, Kouseri (? Kuhsan, Kusan), 231-3

     Kushan (Tokhari), 241

     Kushk, 324

     Kushk river, 236, 237, 240;
       description of, 246

     Kushk-i-Nakhud, 210, 492

     Kyiza (Knidza), 160


     Labi (? Kiz, Kirusi, Kej), 304

     Ladakh ("Little Tibet"):
       Idrisi's description of the town of, 281
       Mongol invasion _via_, 186
       Moorcroft in, 443-4
       Vigne in, 462

     Laghman valley, 96, 99-101;
       inhabitants of, 100, 133

     Lahore:
       Burnes at, 455
       Masson at, 366-7

     Lakshur (? Langar), 238-9

     Lalposh, 270

     Lamghan. _See_ Laghman

     Language, women's preservation of, 22, 143, 295

     Lapis-lazuli mines above Jirm, 426, 507

     Las (Lumri) tribe of Rajputs, 305

     Las Bela (Armail, Armabel, Karabel):
       Distances to, 303-304
       Gadurs of, 35
       Historic interest of, 304-307, 320
       Masson at, 369
       Ruins near, 372
       Strategic position of, 138-9

     Lash Jowain, 493, 498

     Lasonoi, 30

     Lataband pass, 424

     Leach, Lieut., 471

     Lead mines of Ferengal in Ghorband valley, 416

     Leech, Lieut., on Burnes' staff, 401-402, 412;
       work and methods of, 440-41

     Leh, 180, 443, 444, 519

     Leonatus, 151, 156, 161

     Lhasa:
       Buddhist centre, as, 172-3
       Moorcroft's residence at, question as to, 439-40, 444
       Pilgrimages to, 181, 187
       Route from, to India, 517

     Liari, 308

     Lockhart mission, 358, 429, 509

     Logar river, 380, 468;
       valley, 466, 475

     Lohanis, 360, 463, 467

     Lob, 283

     Lop basin, 172, 173

     Lop Nor, 171, 174, 280

     Lord, Dr., mission of, to Badakshan, 402;
       expedition of, to Koh Daman and Hindu Kush passes, 412-15;
       in Ghorband valley, 416;
       at Kunduz, 413, 416, 420-21;
       visit of, to Hazrat Imam, 432;
       investigations by, regarding Moorcroft, 439;
       _Uzbek State of Kundooz_ by, 504;
       cited, 420, 505

     Loveday, Lieut., 406

     Ludhiana, 344

     Ludi (Lydoi), 30

     Lulan, 174

     Lumri (Las) tribe of Rajputs, 35, 305

     Lundai valley, 101

     Lungar, 468

     Lydoi (Ludi), 30


     Mabara (? Barbarra), 434

     Mackenzie, Captain, 148

     M'Crindle cited, 159

     MacMahon, Sir Henry, 374 _and n._, 497

     MacNab, Dr., 131

     McNair, 358

     Mada Khel hills, 108

     Mahaban (Shah Kot), 108, 110-11, 113, 117-21

     _Mahabharata_ cited, 12, 63

     Mahighir canal, 394

     Mahmud of Ghazni, Multan conquered by (1005), 192-3, 293;
       raids by, 200, 210, 218, 513;
       tomb of, 376;
       mentioned, 219, 468

     Mahmudabad, 491

     Mahomed Akbar Khan, 490

     Mahomed Ali, Chief of Saighan, 378-9, 382-3

     Mahomed Azim Khan, 444

     Mahomed Kasim, 293-4, 307

     Mahomed Khan, Sultan, 360, 403, 483

     Mahomedanism, rise of, 187

     Mahomedans:
       Balkh, at, 72, 74
       Kafir attitude towards, 131
       Vigne's estimate of, 467

     Maidan, 260, 468

     Maimana, 239, 248-50, 258, 481

     Makran (Gadrosia). _For particular districts, etc., see their
         names_
       Alexander's retreat through, 38, 51, 86, 145-54, 161-6
       Ancient relics in, 56
       Arabian interest in, prior to A.D. 712, 292;
         Arab governors of, 193, 292, 293
       Baluch traditions as to, 291
       Bampur the ancient capital of, 165
       Boledi long the ruling tribe in, 36-7
       Coasting trade of, in antiquity, 57
       Configuration, orography, and geological features of, 32-3, 48,
         285, 288-91, 296
       Decline of, in eleventh century, 295
       Desiccation of, 288-9
       Greek knowledge of, in ancient time scanty, 37
       Hots of (? Uxoi), 34
       Islands off, disappearance of, 286, 288
       Kaiani Maliks' supremacy in, 37
       Kushite race in, question as to, 34-5
       Negroes in, 36
       Persian satrapies including, 32, 200
       Physical features of. _See subheading_ Configuration
       Ports of, for importation of firearms, 55
       Route through, to India under Arab supremacy, 209, 226, 294, 311
         Ignorance as to, 141
         Importance of, in antiquity, 167-8
         Modern possibilities as to, 319-24
       Stone-built circles in, 372
       Tombs in (Khalmati), 310-11
       Turanian relics in, 158
       View of, from Arabian Sea, 284-5

     Malan headland, 158, 285, 291;
       range, 161-2, 164

     Malek Hupian, 394

     Malistan valley, 515

     Malli (? Meds), 155, 160-61

     Malun Herat, 229 _n_.

     Manabari, 308-309

     Manasarawar lakes, 440

     Manbatara, 308

     Mandal pass, 426, 507, 519

     Manga (Manja, Mugger) Pir, 309

     Mangachar valley, 374

     Manglaor, 121

     Manhabari (? Minagar, Binagar), 304, 309-10

     Manjabari, 309

     Manora (Domai) Island, 154

     Mansura, 309

     Mansuria, 315-16

     Mashad:
       Russian telegraph _via_, 69
       Seistan, route to, 528
       Teheran, objections regarding railway to, 319

     Mashad valley, 424

     Mashkaf (Bolan) pass, 139

     Mashkel (? Maskan), 313-14;
       swamp, 323, 339, 341

     Massaga:
       Alexander's capture of, 105, 122;
         route from, 113
       Nysaeans at, question as to, 128-9

     Marabad, 225

     Marakanda (Samarkand), 88

     Mardians, 68, 76

     Maruchak. _See_ Merv-el-Rud

     Marwa, 225

     Masson, arrival of, at Bushire, 348, 368;
       in Peshawar, 350;
       journey to Kabul _via_ Khaibar route, 351-4, 359;
       to Ghazni and Kandahar, 359-60;
       to Quetta and Shikapur, 361-3;
       in the Punjab, 364-5;
       at Lahore, 365-367;
       to Karachi, 377;
       trips by water, 367-8;
       in E. Baluchistan, 369; at Chahiltan, 370-71;
       through Sind, 371-2;
       again to Kalat, Kandahar, and Kabul, 372-7;
       Besud expedition, 378, 380;
       to Bamian (1832), 378-86;
       to Kabul, 386, 388;
       researches near Kabul, 393;
       accepts post as British agent in Kabul, 397;
       relations with Burnes, 399-401, 404;
       resigns office under Indian Government, 405, 407;
       experiences at Quetta, 406-7;
       meeting with Vigne, 469;
       intimacy with Afghans, 346-7, 350, 352, 362-363;
       influence with them, 380;
       intimacy with Baluchs, 374;
       coins collected by, 393;
       criticisms of Indian Government by, 408, 409;
       value of work of, 345, 347-8, 367, 388, 391, 396, 407;
       methods of, 346;
       estimate of, 361, 370, 372, 395-6, 408;
       _Travels in Afghanistan_, _etc._, see that title;
       otherwise mentioned, 458, 462, 463, 468, 491

     Masurjan, 317

     Matakanai, 105, 128

     Matiban, 200

     Mazanderan, 481

     Mazar, 434, 435, 448, 459

     Mazar-i-Sharif, 257, 439

     Meder, 267, 268

     Meds (? Malli), 155, 160-61, 292-3

     Megasthenes, 129;
       his _India_ cited, 126-7

     Mehrab Khan, 406

     Meilik (Nimlik), 482

     Menk, 274

     Mesiha, 245

     Mesopotamia:
       Earliest immigrants into, question as to origin of, 34-5
       Irrigation works necessary in, 40-41
       Israelite deportations to, 39
       Nana-worship in, 163
       Teheran-Mashad route from, to Baktria, 47-8, 54, 70

     Merv-el-Rud:
       Confused with Russian Merv by Idrisi, 244-5
       Date and destruction of, 241-2
       otherwise mentioned, 236, 239, 240-41

     Merv of the Oasis (Russian):
       Balkh, routes to, 249-50
       Confused with Merv-el-Rud by Idrisi, 244
       Herat route from, 236
       Historic importance of, 241

     Milesian Greeks:
       Brankhidai, 20
       Colonies of:
         N. of Euxine, 14
         S. and W. of Euxine, 18
       Transportation of, to Baktria region, 16, 19, 20, 31, 45

     Miletus:
       Alexander's reduction of (334 B.C.), 66
       Carpet-making industry of, 18
       Destruction of, date of, 16

     Minab river, 166

     Minagar, Binagar (? Manhabari), 304, 309-10

     Mingal, 482

     Mingals, 142, 306

     Minjan pass, 507, 519;
       Chitral route through, 359, 426

     Minjan river. _See_ Kokcha

     Minjan valley, 132, 426, 436

     Miri fort of Quetta, 138, 148

     Mockler, Col., cited, 159-60

     Mongols:
       Afghanistan, in central plateau of, 85
       Asiatic civilization overrun by, 200
       Army of, destroyed on the Karakoram route, 4
       Chenghiz Khan, under, 73
       Ghur dynasty, subject to, 218
       India:
         Central Southern, problem of arrival in, 142-4
         Invasion of, by, 326
         Military expeditions to, attempted, 186
         Pilgrimages to, 169 _et seq._

     Monze, Cape, 154

     Moorcroft, explorations by, 440;
           question as to residence at Lhasa, 444;
           journey from to Kabul, Badakshan, and Bokhara, 444-8;
           official attitude towards, 442-3;
           records of, 443;
           fate of, 438-9;
           grave of, 259;
           estimate of, 443-4, 448, 503-504;
           otherwise mentioned, 423, 434, 467

     Morontobara, 154-5

     Mosarna, 161

     Mugger (Manga, Manja) Pir, 309

     Mugheir (Ur), 42

     Mula (Mulla) pass, 139, 140, 147, 371

     Multan:
       Hindu bankers in, 363
       Mahmud's conquest of (1005), 193, 293
       Masson's account of, 366
       Tubaran, distance from, 315

     Murad Beg, Mir of Kunduz, position of, 378-9, 504;
           Badakshani families transported by, 432, 505;
           Lord's invitation by, 413, 416;
           estimate of, 413;
           Wood's estimate of, 422;
           Moorcroft's experience and estimate of, 446-8;
           otherwise mentioned, 385, 418, 425, 429, 503

     Murad Khan of Kunduz, 383

     Murgh pass, 434-5

     Murghab basin, Upper, unmapped, 477

     Murghab river:
       Economic value of, 246-7
       Head of, unexplored, 516
       Head valleys of, 258
       Ruins on, 243-4
       Upper, climate of, 220
       otherwise mentioned, 215, 236, 239-41

     Murghab valley, 242, 282, 284

     Muskat, 55

     Mustapha Khan, 487

     Muttra, 210


     Nachan, 225

     Nadir Shah, 267, 418, 526

     Nagas, 501

     Nahrwara river. _See_ Kabul river

     Naisan, 225

     Najil, 327, 356, 396-7

     Najirman (? Nakirman), 200

     Najitan (Bajitan), 225

     Nalpach pass, 383-4

     Nan Shan mountain system, 173

     Nana (Chaldean goddess), 162-3

     Naoshirwan, 339

     Napoleon Buonaparte, Emperor, 328-329

     Naratu, 236, 237, 239, 248

     Narmashir, 323

     Nasirs, 475

     Nasratabad, 203

     Nassoor, Sheikh, 497

     Nava Sangharama, 178

     Navigation, ancient, character of, 13, 56-7

     Nawagai, 103

     Nawak pass, 274, 428

     Nawar valley, 515

     Nearkhos, 26, 27;
       voyage of, from Karachi to Persian Gulf, 145, 152-61, 286;
       meeting of, with Alexander, 166-7;
       cited, 286

     Negroes, Asiatic, 36

     New Chaman, 324

     Nicolas range, 431

     Nikaia (modern Kabul), Alexander at, 98. _See also_ Kabul

     Nili, 222

     Nimchas, 269

     Nimlik (Meilik), 482

     Nimrud, 71

     Nineveh:
       Ruins of, 42, 43
       Zenith of, 52

     Nishapur, 231

     Nomadic life, conditions of, 23-5

     Nonnus of Panopolis cited, 62-3, 98

     North, Lieut., value of geographical work by, 411-12, 471

     Nott, 406

     Nuhsala (Nosala, Haftala, Hashtala) island, 161, 286

     Nuksan pass, 508-509, 519, 520, 522

     Nurzai, 212, 491

     Nusa. _See_ Nysa

     Nushki:
       Christie and Pottinger at, 38
       Route _via_, 209, 323
       Telegraph to, 323

     Nysa, Nyssa (Nusa, Nuson):
       Tradition regarding, 62, 122-6
       War-hymn connected with, 131-2

     Nysaean inscriptions, question as to, 129-30

     Nysaioi, 126-7


     Obeh (Auca), 217, 225, 256

     _Odyssey_ cited, 12

     Olbia, 19

     Omar I., Kalif of Baghdad, 307

     Ora (? modern Bazar), 106

     Oritae, 146, 150, 151, 156, 161

     Orodis, 241

     Oxus district, mediaeval geography of, 277 _et seq._

     Oxus jungles, 433

     Oxus (Jihun, Khariab) river:
       Channel of, variations in, 89
       Fords of, accurate knowledge of, 501-502
       Irrigation works connected with, 75
       Khariab a name for, 273, 278
       Pony ferry over, at Kilif, 89-90, 460;
         at Khwaja Salar, 449, 460-61
       Wood's explorations of, 420, 423, 428-35

     Oxydrakai, 127


     Pactyans. _See_ Pathans

     Padizar bay, 158, 159

     Paghman offshoot of Hindu Kush, 97

     Paghman, 387

     Pahrag (Pahra, Pahura, Fahraj), 315, 317, 342;
       two places so named, 316

     Pamirs:
       Climate of, 429
       Mediaeval geography of, 277 _et seq._
       Routes across, 502
       Taghdumbash, 517

     Panja (Wakhab) river, 279

     Panjdeh:
       Buddhist caves at, 244
       Herat, routes from, 236
       Karabel plateau route from near, to Balkh, 250

     Panjgur:
       Dates of, 290
       Description of, 302-303
       Mountain conformation of, 323
       Railway from, to Karachi, question as to, 324
       Telegraph route to, from Ispahan, 322

     Panjkora river, 104, 122

     Panjkora valley, 96

     Panjpilan (Kalloo, Shutar Gardan) pass, 386, 388, 417

     Panjshir (Banjohir), 276-7

     Panjshir pass, 87-8

     Panjshir route between Kabul and Andarab, 87-8, 414

     Panjshir valley:
       Mediaeval reputation of, 435
       Timur in, 355-6
       otherwise mentioned, 261, 275, 356-7, 434, 510, 521

     Pannah, 472

     Parah, 230

     Parana (Parwana), 229, 481, 498

     Parikanoi, 163-4

     Parjuman, 223

     Park mountains, 221

     Parkan stream, 164

     Paropamisos (Hindu Kush), 79, 234, 247. (_See also_ Hindu Kush.)

     Parsi (Tarsi), 489

     Parwan (? Karwan), 276-7

     Parwan (Sar Alang, Bajgah) pass, 328, 435;
       altitude of, 357;
       description of, 414

     Parwana (Parana), 229, 481, 498

     Pashai, 133

     Pashat, 133

     Pasiris, 158

     Pasni, bay of, 159, 164

     Patala, 146, 148

     Pathans:
       Ancient settlement of, in present situation, 28
       Greek names among, 21
       Inscriptions used by, for decoration, 129-30
       Persian origin of language of, 21

     Peiwar pass, 135

     Periplus cited, 310

     Perjan (? Parwan), 355

     Persepolis:
       Alexander the Great at, 68
       Inscriptions at, cited, 30

     Persia:
       Afghanistan:
         Colonies in, 61
         Intrigues regarding, British nervousness as to, 399-400
         War with (1837), 402
       Army of, French officers' organisation of, 477
       Charbar point fort built by, 299
       Configuration of western, 48
       Desert regions of, 69;
         "Great Desert," 201
       Firearms imported into, 155
       Helmund boundary of, 80
       Routes through, to the East, two, 69;
         routes to India, 311, 319, 321-4
       Russia:
         Sphere of influence of, 322
         French organisation of Persian army resented by, 477
         War with (1826), 348

     Persian Empire:
       Extent of, 21, 26-7
       Geographical information possessed by, extent and accuracy of,
         17, 25-6, 29, 31
       Greek permeation of, 20-21; Greek attitude towards, 36
       Indian hinterland under control of, in Alexander's time, 61
       Indian trade of, 21
       Nations subject to, lists of, 29-30
       Satrapies of, identification of, 30-32

     Persian Gulf:
       Command of, necessary for safety of southern Baluchistan passes,
         141
       Masson's trip up, 367
       Voyage to, from Karachi (by Nearkhos), 146, 152-61

     Persians, Pottinger's estimate of, 333-4

     Peshawar:
       Cession of, to Afghanistan mooted by Burnes, 401, 404
       Moorcroft's journey from, to Kabul and Bokhara, 444
       Route to, from Kabul _via_ Kuram valley and Peiwar pass, 135
       Sikh occupation of, 350

     Peshawaran, 336

     Peukelaotis, 99, 114

     Philotas, 78

     Phur river, 151

     Physical geography, influence of, on migratory movements, 9, 45-6;
       on history, 214

     Pimuri defile, 421

     Pir Mahomed, 445, 456

     Pisacas, 133

     Place-names, value of, in identifications, 115

     Pokran (? Pokar), 371

     Pola Island, 159

     Polo, Marco, 281, 327

     Polyaenus quoted, 127-8

     Pony-ferries on the Oxus--at Kilif, 89-90, 460;
       at Khwaja Salar, 449, 460-61

     Poolka, 496

     Poolki (Pulaki), 335-6, 497

     Pottinger, Lieut., explorations by, 329 _et seq._;
       at Herat, 402;
       quoted--on Persian character, 333-4;
       on the Kharan desert, 339-40

     Pousheng (Boushinj, Bousik), 231, 234, 237

     Ptolemy (son of Lagos), with Alexander's expedition, 103, 104, 116;
       cited, 37, 104, 310

     Pul-i-Malun bridge, 229 _n._, 230

     Pulaki (Poolki), 335-6, 497

     Punjab:
       Alexander's march on, 94
       Fa Hian in, 179, 185
       French and Italians in, 366
       Greek architecture and sculpture in, 59
       Ranjit Singh's hunting party in, 455-6
       Sikh Government, under, 345-6, 363

     Pura, 165

     Purali (Arabius) river, 146, 148, 149, 156, 292, 305, 320, 370

     Pushti Hajigak (Kafzur) pass, 417

     Pushto, 350, 352


     Quetta (Shall):
       British ignorance regarding, in 1880, 369
       Masson and Bean at, 406;
         Masson's account of, 362
       Strategic importance of, 137-9
       Telegraph to, from Seistan, 323

     Quintus Curtius. _See_ Curtius


     Ragozin's _Chaldea_ quoted, 43

     Rahmat Khan, 365

     Rahmatulla Khan, 382, 421

     Rahun, 304

     Rajput tribes, 35

     Rajputana desert, 27

     Ramayana cited, 12, 63

     Rambakia, 150

     Ranjit Singh, Bentinck's interview with (1832), 344;
       position of, 350, 398;
       Burnes' entertainment by, 455-6;
       Burnes' estimate of, 457;
       Vigne's acquaintance with, 462;
       mentioned, 401, 404

     Ras Kachari, 156

     Rasak (? Sarbaz), 312-14

     Ravi river, 366

     Rawlinson, Sir Henry, cited, 241, 242, 245, 479;
       his _Five Monarchies_ quoted, 43

     Regan, 316, 317, 323

     Registan, 375

     Reishkhan district, 424

     Robat-i-Kashan, 237

     Roberts, Lord, 87

     Robertson, Sir George, 358, 426, 507, 510

     Rohri, 364

     Rokh, Shah, 242

     Rookes cited, 118

     Roxana, 92

     _R.G.S. Journal_ cited, 123;
       _Proceedings_ cited, 241

     Rozabagh, 229 _n._

     Rozanak, 233

     Ruby mines of Oxus valley, 428

     Rudbar (? Rudhan), 207, 496

     Rue Khaf (? Rudan), 231

     Russia:
       Afghan intrigues of, British nervousness regarding, 399-400
       India:
         Designs on, question as to, 319-20
         Route to, nature of, 527-8
       Persia:
         Army organisation of, resented by, 477
         Sphere of influence in, 322
         War with (1826), 348
       Transcaspian railway terminus, 324

     Russo-Afghan Boundary Commission:
       Camps of, 233, 235, 240
       Escort of English officers of, 492
       Geographical surveys in Reports of, 194, 264
       Kwaja Salar, disappearance of, 450
       Rapidity of movements of, 477
       Routes of, 78, 248, 261, 272-3, 335, 415
       otherwise mentioned, 71, 83, 231

     Rustak, 504

     Rustam (Bazira), 106, 113, 114


     Sabaktagin, 414

     Sacnia, 281

     Sadik Khan, 493

     Sadmurda, 260

     Safed Khak pass, 379

     Safed Koh, 95

     Sagittae, 163

     St. John cited, 148, 316

     Saiad Ahmad Shah, 350

     Saib, 433

     Saidabad fort, 386

     Saighan valley, 260, 379, 382, 421, 437, 505

     Sajidi, 164

     Sakae, 163, 164

     Sakah, 229

     Sakas, 501

     Samad Khan, 390

     Samaria, date of fall of, 39

     Sarmakan, 245

     Samarkand (Marakanda), 88, 292

     Sandeman, Sir Robert, 137, 320;
       cited, 374

     Sandrakottos (Chandragupta), 129

     Sangadip Island, 161

     Sangcharak, 258;
       mountains, 255

     Sangiduktar, 231

     Sangusar, 492

     Sar Alang (Parwan, Bajgah) pass, 414

     Saraswati river, 27, 144

     Sarakhs, 230, 233, 234

     Sarbaz (? Rasak), 312, 314;
       river, 312

     Sardanapalus (Assur-bani-pal), 52, 162-3

     Sargo pass, 472

     Sargon, 39, 45

     Sar-i-jangal stream, 256

     Sarikoh stream, 267

     Sar-i-pul (? Aspurkan), 250-52, 483

     Sarwan (Kala Sarwan), 206-208

     Sarwandi (Sir-i-koll) pass, 465, 472;
       ridge, 465-6

     Satibarzanes, 77

     Schintza, 473

     Schwanbeck, Dr., 126

     Scylax of Caryanda, 26-9

     Sehwan, 371

     Seistan (Sejistan, Drangia, Drangiana):
       Afghan army's experience in, 403
       Climate and natural conditions in, 80, 85, 201-203, 403, 494
       Extent of, less than of ancient Drangiana, 78;
         extent in mediaeval times, 205
       Firearms imported into, 55
       Goldsmid's mission to, 299
       Inhabitants of, mentioned by Herodotus, 33
       Lake of, 497
       Route to Mashad, 528
       Persian satrapy, 32, 200
       Ruins in, abundance of, 336
       Reputation of, 201-202
       Surveys of, 496-7
       Telegraph to, from Narmashir, 323
       Tributary to Ghur in mediaeval times, 218

     Sekhwan, 338

     Sekoha, 498

     Sejistan. _See_ Seistan

     Semenjan. _See_ Haibak

     Semiramis, 147

     Senacherib, King of Assyria, 52

     Senart, M., cited, 130

     Seneca, cited, 21

     Ser-ab (? Sar-i-ab), 468

     Shah, 251, 255

     Shah Kot (Mahaban), 108, 110-11, 113, 117-21

     Shaharak, 486

     Shahar-i-Babar, 257, 267

     Shahar-i-Wairan (? Shahar, Shah), 254-5

     Shaitana, 380

     Shakiban, 338

     Shams Tabieri, Saint, 366

     Shamshirs, 233-4, 240

     Shamsuddin pass, 418

     Shansabi, 218

     Sharif, Imam, 484

     Sharifudin cited, 355

     Sheherek, 486

     Sheranni, 512

     Sher-i-dahan, 468

     Sherwan, 433-4

     Shibar, 468

     Shibar pass, 260, 277, 387

     Shibarghan, 251-2

     Shikapur, financial credit of, 331-2, 363, 452-3

     Shorawak, 374-5

     Shutar Gardan (Kalloo, Panjpilan) pass, 386, 388, 417

     Siah Koh (Band-i-Baian), 486, 487

     Siah Reg pass, 381

     Siahposh Kafirs, 270, 354-6, 358

     Siam, celadon furnaces in, 83

     Sidonians, deportation of, by Assyria, 52

     Sikhs, Dost Mahomed's operations against, 397-8

     Simkoh, 234

     Sind:
       Arab ascendency in, 192, 293, 311, 366;
         their geography of, 296;
         buried Arab city in, 196
       Assyrian art in pottery of, 54
       Buddhist ruins in, 372
       Frontier passes of, 209
       Hot winds in, 341
       Independent government, under, 329, 331, 345-6, 363
       Masson in, 349; his account of, 365
       Mongols settled in, 526
       Mountain barrier of, 140

     Singlak, 485

     Sin-ho-to. _See_ Swat

     Sintu-ho river. _See_ Indus

     Sirafraz Khan, 391

     Sir-i-koll (Sarwandi) pass, 465

     Sirondha lake, 155

     Skytho-Aryans, 241

     Skyths:
       Caspian, at north and west of, 19
       Central Asia, of, 50;
         Alexander's encounter with, 92-3
       Euxine, at north of, 14
       Westward migration of, 61

     Slavery in Badakshan, 520

     Sofarak, 262

     Sogdia (Bokhara), 32, 92

     Sohrab, 332

     Somnath, 210

     Song Yun cited, 184

     Sonmiani, 308, 368;
       route from, to interior, 330-31

     Sousa, 479

     Spinasuka pass, 103

     Stein, Dr. M. A., 237, 503;
       Buddhist sanctuary discovered by, 184;
       methods of, 109-11;
       cited, 111, 113, 117-18, 120-21, 170

     Stoddart, Colonel, 390, 402

     Stone-built circles, 372

     Strabo cited, 107, 122;
       quoted, 127

     Stewart, General, 95

     Subzawar, 230, 498

     Sufed Koh mountains, 135, 215

     Su-ho-to (Lower Swat), 185

     Sujah, Shah, 344, 353, 405, 456

     Suliman, Kalif, 294

     Suliman hills, torrents and passes of, 36-7

     Suliman Khel Ghilzais:
       Broadfoot the authority on, 474-5
       Duties levied by, 464, 474-5
       Kattasang, in, 472
       Land of, unexplored, 514

     Sultan Mahomed, 445, 446

     Sura (? Suza), 317

     Surkh Kila pass, 418

     Survey methods, perfecting of, 500

     Suza (? Sura), 317

     Swat (Sin-ho-to, Su-ho-to):
       Buddhism in, 129
       Fa Hian in, 179, 185
       Geographical surveys of, 123
       Uplands of, 128


     Tabriz, 368

     Taft, 322

     Tagao Ghur river, 221

     Tagao Ishlan river, 215-16, 223;
       valley, 486

     Tagdumbash Pamir, 180, 279, 517

     Taimanis:
       Country of, 84, 214, 217, 220, 222-223, 478, 488
       Kidnapping by, in Afghan Turkistan, 253
       Traditions of, 212
       Women of, Ferrier's account of, 489
       mentioned, 481, 489

     Taiwara (Ghur):
       Herat, route from, 223
       Importance of, 487
       Ruins at, 222, 488
       mentioned, 220, 515

     Tajik (Kurt), dynasty in Ghur, 218

     Tajiks, Badakshani, 432

     Takla Makan, 283

     Takht-i-Rustam (tope at Haibak), 446

     Takht-i-Suliman mountain:
       Expedition to (1882), 112, 119, 513
       River gorges of, 137
       mentioned, 137, 464

     Takzar (Zakar), 251, 252

     Talara, 300-301

     Talbot, Colonel the Hon. M. G., R.E., 264 _and n._, 446;
       cited, 489-90

     Talekan, 271-4

     Talikan, 241, 243, 504;
       Mahomedan saint at, 447

     Talikan (Talikhan), 243 _and n._, 249

     Talikan plains, 506, 509

     Talikhan plain, 423

     Taloi range, 164

     Tamerlane. _See_ Timur

     _Tarikh-i-Rashidi_ cited, 186

     Tarim river, 173, 174, 283

     Tarnak river, 224

     Tashkurghan:
       Fort of, 279, 281
       Kabul, routes to, 260, 419
       Moorcroft at, 448
       otherwise mentioned, 88, 482

     Tashkurghan river, 261, 279

     Tarsi (Parsi), 489

     Tate, Mr. G. P., cited, 336

     Taxila, 29, 94, 99

     Taxiles, 99

     Teheran:
       Hamadan telegraph route to, 48
       Kashan, question as to railway _via_, 322
       Mashad route from, 54, 77;
         question as to railway by, 319

     Termez, 278, 279

     Teshkhan, 424

     Thakot, 121

     Tibet:
       Chinese Turkistan formerly included in, 283
       Gold-fields of, 51
       Gold-digging legends concerning, 31
       Idrisi's description of, 281-3
       Invasion of India from, possibility as to, 188
       Mongol invasion of, 186-7
       Moorcroft in, 439-40

     Tibetans, modern, 283

     Tiglath Pilesur, King of Assyria, 6, 44, 46, 49, 51, 52, 57

     Tigris river, 368

     Til pass, 275

     Timur Hissar, 356

     Timur Shah (Tamerlane):
       Herat and Ghur broken up by, 219
       Kafiristan invaded by, 327, 355-6, 435
       Merv-el-Rud destroyed by, 242
       otherwise mentioned, 193, 394, 414, 481

     Tingelab river, 486

     Tippak, 283

     Tir, 238-9

     Tir Band-i-Turkistan mountains, 239, 240, 247, 258

     Tirah Expedition, 105

     Tiz (Talara), 299-301

     Tochi river, 475

     Tochi valley, 136;
       route by, 512-14

     Todd, Major d'Arcy, 480

     Tokhari (Kushan), 241

     Tokharistan (Oxus region), 241;
       capital of, 243

     To-li (Darel), 179, 182-3

     Tomeros river, 157

     Tous, 479

     Topchi valley, 386, 388

     Torashekh, 237, 482

     Transportation of whole populations, 40, 44

     Travel, _camaraderie_ of, 463-4

     _Travels in Afghanistan, Baluchistan, the Punjab, and Kalat_
      (Masson) cited, 349 _et seq._

     Trebeck, 439-40, 444, 448, 459

     Tsungling, 177, 178

     Tubaran, 315-17

     Turan, 315-16

     Turfan, 172

     Turki language, 394

     Turkistan, Afghan. _See_ Afghan Turkistan

     Turkman women, 283

     Turkmans, Ersari, 459-60

     Turks, Khizilji, 281-2

     Turks Tibetans, 282


     Uch, 364, 366

     Udyana (Wuchung), 179, 184

     Ujaristan valley, 515

     Unai (Honai, Bamian) pass, 87, 260, 262, 379, 389, 414, 420, 446;
       importance of, 521;
       Wood's description of, 417

     Ur (Mugheir), 42

     Urmara, 368

     Urukh (Warka), 163

     Urusgan valley, 515

     Uthal, 307

     Uzbeks:
       Agricultural pursuits of, 251
       Dwellings of, 249
       Kirghiz compared with, 430
       Man-stealing propensities of, 421
       Murad Khan acknowledged liege by, 383, 413
       Snake-handling by, 253
       Wood's estimate of, 423


     Vaisravana, 178

     Varsach river, 424

     Vektavitch, Lieut., 400

     Ventura, General, 367

     Victoria Lake, 430-31


     Wad, 373

     Wade, Captain, 397, 398

     Wainwright, E. A., cited, 313

     Wakhab (Panja) river, 279

     Wakhan, 273, 281, 327

     Wakhjir pass, 279

     Waksh, 273, 278

     Wakshab river, 273, 278

     Walian (Gwalian) pass, 414

     Walid I., Kalif, 292, 307

     Walker, General, cited, 123, 508

     Wana, 513

     Wardak valley, 466, 475

     Wardoj river, 429, 437

     Wardoj (Zebak) valley, 436

     Warka (Urukh), 163

     Warwalin, 271-2

     Washir, 490

     Wazirabad lake, 98

     Waziris, 464, 474

     Waziristan, 473

     Weather, effects of, on natural features, 117-18

     Westward migrations, 45, 61

     Wilson, Major David, cited, 368

     Wiltshire, General, 406

     Wine made by Kafirs, 133-4

     Wood, Lieut., mission of, to Badakshan, 402;
       with Lord, 412, 416-18, 420, 422, 432, 439;
       explorations of the Oxus by, 420, 423, 428-35;
       Indus navigation by, 454; cited, 505-507, 523;
       estimate of, 431;
       value of work of, 418

     Wolff, Rev. Joseph, 376

     Woodthorpe, 429, 509

     Wuchung (Udyana), 179, 184

     Wynaad gold-fields, 51


     Xenophon, retreat of, from Persia, 18, 42;
       appreciation of, 66;
       cited, 42

     Xerxes, 20, 31, 91


     Yahudi. _See_ Jews

     Yahudia, 251, 255

     Yakmina (Darak Yamuna), 317

     Yakulang, 262; valley, 256

     Yaman, 220, 222

     Yang Kila, 433

     Yar Mahomed Khan, 445, 477, 480, 490, 494

     Yarkand, 279, 328

     Yezd, 322

     Yezdambaksh, 378, 382-4

     Yule, Sir Henry, cited, 219, 508

     Yusli, 307-308

     Yusuf Darra route to Sar-i-pul, 483

     Yusufzai rising, 350


     Zaimuni, 389

     Zakar (Takzar), 251, 252

     Zal valley, 262

     Zamindawar (Dawar), 83, 205-206, 223, 491

     Zarah swamp, 204

     Zarangai, 33-4

     Zardaspan, 90

     Zari stream, 257

     Zariaspa. _See_ Andarab

     Zarinje, 203, 204

     Zarni, 222

     Zebak:
       Faizabad, route from, 511

     Zebak:
       Importance of, 427, 429, 433
       mentioned, 279

     Zebak river, 437, 520

     Zebak (Wardoj) valley, 436

     Zhob valley, 137

     Zindajan (Bouchinj), 231, 232, 479

     Zirmast pass, 236, 239, 240

     Zirni, 487, 488

     Zohak, 267, 387;
       valley, 421

     Zohaka, 466

     Zoji-la, 180


THE END


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