A couple of dilapidated
cane-bottomed chairs were then brought and set one on each side of the
crimson velvet divan occupied by his Highness. Having made my bow,
which was acknowledged by a curt nod, I was conducted to the seat on
the right hand of the Khan by Azim Khan, his son, who seated himself
upon his father's left hand The Wazir, suite, soldiers, and attendants
then squatted round us in a semicircle, and the interview commenced.
A long silence followed, broken only by the whish of the fly-brush
as a white-clad Baluchi whisked it lazily to and fro over the Khan's
head. The balcony on which we were received is poised at a dizzy
height over the beehive-looking dwellings and narrow, tortuous streets
of the brown city, which to-day were bathed in sunshine. The Khan's
residence is well chosen. The pestilent stenches of his capital cannot
ascend to this height, only the sweet scent of hay and clover-fields,
and the distant murmur of a large population, while a glorious
panorama of emerald-green plain stretches away to a rocky, picturesque
range of hills on the horizon.
His Highness Mir Khudadad, Khan of Kelat, is about sixty years old. He
would be tall were it not for a decided stoop, which, together with a
toothless lower jaw, gives him the appearance of being considerably
more than his age. His complexion is very dark, even for a Baluch, and
he wears a rusty black beard and moustaches, presumably dyed, from
the streaks of red and white that run through them, and long, coarse
pepper-and-salt locks streaming far below his shoulders. His personal
appearance gave me anything but a favourable impression. The Khan has
a scowling expression, keen, piercing black eyes, and a sharp hooked
nose that reminded one forcibly of Cruikshank's picture of Fagin the
Jew in "Oliver Twist."
The Khan was dressed in a long, loose, white garment, with red silk
embroidery of beautiful workmanship. A thin white Cashmere shawl was
thrown carelessly over his shoulders, and he wore a conical violet
silk cap, trimmed with gold lace, and a pair of pointed green morocco
slippers, turned up at the toes, and ornamented with the same
material. A massive gold necklace, or collar, thickly studded with
diamonds, rubies, and sapphires, hung round his neck. The stones, some
of them of great size, were set indiscriminately without any regard
to pattern or design. Mir Khudadad wore no other jewels, with the
exception of three small torquoise rings, all worn on the little
finger of the left hand. He carried no arms, but held in his right
hand a large and very dirty pocket-handkerchief of a bright yellow
hue with large red spots, which somewhat detracted from his regal
appearance. The Khan is a great snuff-taker, and during the audience
continually refreshed himself from the contents of a small gold box
carried by his son. Prince Azim, who was dressed in a green silk
jacket and loose magenta-coloured trousers, is a pleasant-mannered lad
of about twenty. He is of much lighter complexion than his father and
has a strong Jewish cast of feature. A huge cabochon emerald of great
value, suspended from the neck, was Azim's sole ornament.
[Illustration: PALACE OF THE KHAN. KELAT.]
A conversation now commenced, carried on through the medium
of the Wazir and my interpreter. The Khan has a fidgety, uneasy
manner that must be intensely exasperating to his court. More
than once during the audience, having asked a question with
much apparent earnestness, he would suddenly break in, in the
middle of a reply, and hum a tune, or start off on a totally different
subject from the one under discussion. At other times he would repeat
a question twice or thrice, and, his eyes fixed on vacancy, utterly
ignore the answers of the Wazir, who evidently stood in great awe of
his eccentric sovereign. Though the following colloquy may appear
brief to the reader, it took nearly an hour to get through.
"Where do you come from, and what are you?" was the Khan's first
question.
"From Russia, your Highness."
"From Russia!" returned the Khan, quickly. "But you are English, are
you not?"
"Certainly I am."
"How strong is Russia's army?" continued the Khan, after an
application to the gold snuff box, and a trumpet-blast on the yellow
bandanna.
"Nominally about three millions."
"And England?"
"About two hundred thousand, not counting the reserves."
"Humph!" grunted the Khan. "Tell me, do the English imagine that Abdur
Raman [B] is their friend?"
"I believe so."
"Then tell them from me," cried the Khan, excitedly, half rising from
his seat, "tell Queen Victoria from me that it is not so. Tell her to
beware of Abdur Raman. He is her enemy."
"Is England afraid of Russia?" continued the Khan after a long pause.
"No; the English fear no one."
"Will England reach Kandahar before Russia takes Herat?"
"I really cannot say," was my answer to this somewhat puzzling
question.
Mir Khudadad then turned away to converse with the Wazir in a low
tone. About ten minutes elapsed, during which a long confabulation
was held, in which many of the suite, including the Afghan soldiers,
joined. Prince Azim meanwhile invited me to inspect his sword and
pistols. The former, a splendid Damascus blade, and hilt encrusted
with jewels, I especially admired. Had I known the use to which it
had been put that morning, I should not, perhaps, have been so
enthusiastic.
Again the Khan addressed me.
"Do you know Russia well?"
"Pretty well."
"Is it true that the Russians do not allow Mohammedans to worship in
Central Asia?"
"I believe that is untrue."
"It is a lie?"
"Most certainly it is."
"Your own countrymen told me so." At this there was a roar of
laughter, in which the Khan joined.
