Only an Ensign: A Tale of the Retreat from Cabul, Volume 3 (of 3)Grant, James
General
Only an Ensign: A Tale of the Retreat from Cabul, Volume 3 (of 3)
Grant, James
Afghan Wars -- Fiction
A gust of wind careering over the waste from the Pass, rolled away,
like a veil of gauze, the shroud which had half concealed the place
they were approaching; and with a mournful and sickly interest, not
unmixed with anticipated dread, Mabel and her friends surveyed the
city of Bameean.
Rising terrace over terrace on the green acclivities of an insulated
mountain, the bolder features and details shining in the ruddy
sunlight, the intermediate spaces sunk in sombre shadow, it exhibited
a series of the most wonderfully excavated mansions, temples, and
ornamental caverns (the abodes of its ancient and nameless
inhabitants), to the number of more than twelve thousand, covering a
slope of eight miles in extent.
Many of those rock-hewn edifices, carved out of the living stone
which supports the mountain, and are the chief portions of its
foundation and structure, have beautiful friezes and entablatures,
domes and cupolas, with elaborately arched doors and windows. Others
are mere dens and caverns, with square air-holes; but towering over
all are many colossal figures, more particularly two--a woman one
hundred and twenty feet high, and another of a man, forty feet
higher--all hewn out of the face of a lofty cliff.
By what race, or when, those mighty and wondrous works of art were
formed, at such vast labour, no human record, not even a tradition,
remains to tell; their origin is shrouded by a veil of mystery, like
that of the ruined cities of Yucatan; so whether they are relics of
Bhuddism, or were hewn in the third century, during the dynasty of
the Sassanides, has nothing to do with our story. But the poor
hostages, as they were conveyed past those silent, dark, and empty
temples, abandoned now to the jackal, the serpent, and the flying
fox, with the towering and gigantic apparitions of the stone colossi
lookingly grimly down in silence, felt strange emotions of chilly awe
come over them--the ladies especially. To Mabel Trecarrel, in her
weak and nervous state, the scene proved too much; she became
hysterical, and wept and laughed at the same moment, to the great
perplexity of Saleh Mohammed, who was quite unused to such
exhibitions among the ladies of _his_ zenanali.
Though stormed by Jenghiz Khan and his hordes, in 1220, after a
vigorous resistance, this rock-hewn city, by its materials and
massiveness, could suffer little; yet it was subsequently deserted by
all its inhabitants, who named it "Maublig," or the _unfortunate_.
After that time, its history sank into utter obscurity; its
once-fertile plain reverted to a desert state once more; yet
unchanged as when Bameean was in its zenith, its river of the same
name flows past the caverned mountain, on its silent way to the snowy
wastes where its waters mingle with those of the Oxus.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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