At the Court of the Amîr: A Narrative

by John Alfred Gray

The Bamian valley extends from Topchi nearly ten miles in a westerly direction, and is about eight thousand feet above the sea. It is interesting to know that Lady Sale, Lady MacNaughten, and six other English ladies, who were taken prisoners in the first Afghan war in 1837, were conducted over the road we traversed to this very valley. Lady Sale, relating their adventures, says that though they suffered hardship, privation, and much anxiety concerning their future fate, they were treated with kindness and consideration by the villagers on the way. The order was that they were to be conducted to Khulum, a hundred and twenty miles further on among the mountains toward Turkestan, there to be delivered over to the Governor. This would have meant to them a hopeless captivity. Happily, Sir Robert Sale, after the defeat of the Afghans by Pollock, hurried on, and was able to rescue the party in Bamian. Lady MacNaughten, less happy than Lady Sale, had seen her husband, diplomatist and Oriental scholar, murdered before her eyes in Kabul.

While we were in this valley Jan Mahomed went some miles out of the road to show me a petrified dragon, or as my interpreter put it, “a stone cow.” Akbar Mahomed had slain this dragon in single combat, and Allah had changed it into stone. “Why cow?” I asked the Armenian, some time afterwards. “It is a snake or a dragon.”

“I not know English word snake and dragon; I must say some animal, and ‘cow’ came into head, therefore I say cow.” The dragon I found to be a curious shaped rocky hill formed in the course of ages by the deposit of carbonate of lime from a spring that was still bubbling there.

Colossal Figure, “Sa-mama,” in the Bamian Valley.
From a photograph by Arthur Collins, F.G.S.

The Colossal Figures.

This valley was full of surprises, for the next day we came up with three colossal figures, cut in relief on the face of the mountains (the Hindu Kush range) on the north side of the valley. These figures, they said, were statues carved by order of Jelaluddin Shah, of himself, his wife and son (Jelaluddin lived about the year 1230). Away on the other side of the valley we could dimly see on the heights the ruins of a deserted city—“the city of Jelaluddin.” We were too far off to see anything characteristic in the ruins, but it is possible that the city belongs to the same era as that of Zohàk-i-Marhan, a few miles further down the valley. The figures, it is probable, are of Buddhist origin, and date back to the time which preceded the Mahomedan conquest of Afghanistan, when Buddhism was the dominant religion of the country. The largest of the three figures, which has the local name of “Sa-mama,” is 173 feet in height. The smaller, “Sul-sol,” 120 feet, and the smallest not more than 80 feet. They resemble in style other figures of Buddha. The drapery, moulded and fastened on with pegs, shows no sign of classical influence, arranged, as it is, in stiff conventional folds. These are in places broken away, showing the peg holes. To give an idea of their relative size, I saw a man on horseback ride up to one figure—he and his horse together were not so high as the toe. The figures are hollow, and there are steps leading up to chambers inside the body and head. These are used by the Amîr as storehouses for grain. On the wall of the chamber, in the head of the largest figure, are the indistinct marks of a fresco painting, of which Mr. Collins, the geologist, managed, some years afterwards, to get an imperfect photograph. It is, however, impossible to make out the subject, and I heard no story as to when or by whom it was painted. In the face of the mountain, by the side of the figures, are chambers or caves hollowed out of the rock. Some of these are beautifully cut, with domed roofs—to use the words of Mr. Collins, who examined them—in “hard conglomerate rock, and are coated with a layer of lustrous bitumen.” Doubtless, they were used as temples and dwelling-places for the Buddhist priests. Many of the other caves are in “soft sandstone and conglomerate.” These could be easily cut, the hard conglomerate forming a natural roof for rooms dug in the softer sandstone beneath. Presumably they are of later origin than those cut in the harder material. Narrow, almost impossible staircases lead up to the caves, and there dwell the poorer Hazara agriculturists of the Bamian valley. There are cave-dwellers in many parts of Afghanistan, and it is men of this kind, who combine the professions of agriculturist and warrior, who would be likely to cause more trouble to an invader of Afghanistan than would the regular army of the Amîr. During the last Afghan war the English were at first much puzzled by the rapidity with which thousands of armed men would appear, and, if occasion required, the equal rapidity with which they would vanish. All that could be found was here and there a peaceful peasant hard at work in the fields with his mattock—the rifle was left at home.

The furniture of one of these rock dwellings is simple enough. The most prominent feature is the great ornamented earthen jar, in which grain and provisions are stored: a strip of carpet occupies the place of honour in the centre of the floor: a few copper cooking utensils, a “chillim,” an Afghan “samovar” for tea, and a rough “charpoy,” complete the establishment.

In the Bamian valley, fertile, full of interest and with a delightful climate, we travelled deliberately, taking two days to traverse the ten miles or so. As we rode, my Armenian told me many stories. I do not know what they were about; I didn’t then. One only I understood. He said that once on a march, utterly wearied, he went to sleep on horseback. “It is thrown out,” said he, meaning himself; and pointing to his forehead, with a mild smile, he said, “He is broke, and blood is come.” I laughed, and asked what happened next. “I got him upstairs horse, but I not go to sleep again.”

The Pass of the “Tooth-breaker.”