But after he had been to England he wouldn’t drink champagne that had been eleven years in the Hospital.
After dinner Myddleton sang with great taste, and in a sweet tenor voice, some old English ballads—“The Thorn,” “The Anchor’s Weighed,” and a Christmas carol; Stewart occasionally putting in a seconds. I enjoyed it immensely: it was such a treat to hear music again. I did not sing myself, for some of my servants were Afghans and they were in the room: I should have lowered myself in their eyes if I had sung; my guests, however, were indifferent to the opinion of the Afghans.
About midnight they departed, and rode back, escorted by a couple of soldiers, to their rooms at the workshops.
The Amîr’s Fainting Attack.
Two days after this His Highness had a fainting attack; at least he described it as such to me. He said he had been so ill that it had been necessary to give him wine to restore his senses. He desired me to examine the wine and ascertain if it were a suitable stimulant for him. A bottle was handed to me and I poured some out into a wine-glass. It was a clear amber-coloured liquid—may be Chablis, I thought. I was about to drink it, when His Highness said,
“Khubar dar!”—“Take care, it is strong;” and he suggested my adding some sherbet.
“Chablis and sherbet!” I thought; “No, I am not a Mahomedan,” and I smiled and tossed it off.
Sword of Damocles! It was liquid fire! I swallowed and swallowed and blinked and gasped.
As expressing a rapid succession of complicated emotions my face must have been a study, for the Amîr leant back on his pillows and roared with laughter. As soon as I could get my breath I coughed out that it was a very bad wine and not at all suitable for His Highness. It was Vodki, I believe, or a Russian spirit of some sort—neat.
I went on to say that for the complaint His Highness was suffering from, every kind of wine was more or less harmful; but that, if faintness rendered it necessary, the best he could drink would be good old whisky. I knew that Pyne had brought a supply to Kabul, and when he went away on leave, he had let Stewart and Myddleton have the residue. I therefore rode off to the shops to beg a bottle. When I returned to the Palace, I placed it before His Highness, and explained how it should be taken:—One ounce of whisky to two of water, or, in extreme cases, in equal quantities. His Highness desired me to show him how to take it. It was the first and only “medicine” the Amîr asked me to taste before him. I poured out an ounce, added two ounces of water, and drank it. Then I sat down.