Chapter VII · (continued 2)

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 mediæval 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° 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 mediæval 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 mediæval 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 mediæval 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 (mechanceté) 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 mediæval 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.