It is a strange sensation that interview which we are constrained to hold with death; yet, with all the imaginary terrors in which he is clad, the brave man readily meets him face to face. That those only who are, morally speaking, prepared to die, fear not death, is too wild a theory to be maintained: for many of us have seen the hardened malefactor advance, with unfaltering step and fearless aspect, to the scaffold, while in the ranks of the timid have been numbered some of the best of mankind.
And my fellow-countrymen here, who have, at least, been educated in the constant hearing of the word of God—are they more fitted to die than those miserable heathens were, whose carcases are now tainting the atmosphere? Let those who are more competent to judge of such matters decide. We, who, according to the declaration of our divines and the boast of government, are sent out to retain possession of this vast country, and to exhibit to the benighted natives the benefits and example of Christianity, have performed the latter part of our ministry in a singular manner, unless it is to be effected by daily instances of blasphemy, drunkenness, and debauchery, that the natives of India are enabled to witness. And yet they have been inapt scholars, for we have failed signally in propagating amongst them the two former accomplishments, and I question much if they have excelled us in the latter. And yet let it not be imputed to us that we are the only, or the greatest, transgressors. Let the traveller who has wandered through the bazaars of Cairo, Bombay, Caubul, Delhi, or Canton, and marked the character and occupation of the Mussulman, Gheber, and idolator, compare them with the gin palaces, cafés, bull fights, and gardens or thoroughfares of London, Paris, Madrid, Vienna, and Naples, and exult (if candour will admit) in the moral advantages of civilized Europe. I ask him not to visit the palaces of the aristocracy, or the church and chapel; in the former he will gain no knowledge, and in the latter, perhaps, too much; for, of all sciences, theology has become the most abstruse; and he who can recognise the immaculate precepts of Jesus of Nazareth, amidst the fiery and relentless hostilities of modern sects, must be an unhappy man. For my own part, the nice distinctions of party in the early history of the church, the difficulty of deciding between the mighty and learned differences of the Christian fathers, and the inability to distinguish between the Homoosion and the Homouosion quite disheartened me, at the outset, in the study of divinity; and in modern days the fiery animosities of catholic and protestant, transubstantiation, predestination, the gown and surplice riot, and pulpit mendicity, drove me from the church portals to take refuge in the book.
But, after this peregrination of the globe, to return to India: is it by the example of the better-educated classes, and the stern and impartial dealing of justice, that the natives of the East are to form an estimate of our superior wisdom and excellence? If so, let them look to some in the high places of this land, and be staggered at the display of erudition, wisdom, and righteousness; and let them judge of our notions of rigorous justice from the policy which dictated the expedition from which we are now returning. Have we not marched into the kingdom of Caubul, and without any pretext or right, save the "lex fortioris," wrested the sceptre from the hands of one monarch, the favourite of his subjects, as far as any Afghan could be so, to transfer it to those of another, (and one avowedly of a tyrannous and execrable disposition,) after shedding the blood of those who stepped forward in defence of him whom they probably conceived to be their rightful sovereign? It can hardly be assumed that the desire of establishing legitimate rights led us romantically forth on the Caubul expedition; for the government of India held friendly intercourse with Dost Mahomed for many years, without questioning his sovereign rights, and only discovered how ill-used a man Shah Soojah had been, when Dost Mahomed showed a disinclination to enter into hostilities with those who were deemed to be averse to British influence.
I had just come to the above conclusion, when a tramping behind aroused me from my reverie; and starting up, I was agreeably surprised to find that all my camels and servants had walked safely into camp. I rolled myself in a cloak, and making a comfortable resting-place of the folds of canvas composing the fly of the tent, soon became insensible alike to the immoralities of mankind and the intentions of the Khyberees.
The morning sun, when I awoke, had burst brilliantly forth, even upon the desolate and gloomy mountains of the Khyber, trying, but in vain, to bid them look cheerful; and the night, contrary to all expectations, had passed without an alarm. In the afternoon, the second column, under General Thackwell, arrived at Ali Musjid; and orders were issued for our march out of the Khyber Pass the following morning. In consequence of the reports which had reached camp of the intention of the Khyberees to attack us, the two companies of sappers and miners formed our advanced guard, and the cavalry were disposed in single files on the flanks of the baggage, with a rallying-party from each squadron in rear, as a point of formation in case of a descent from the mountains.
We marched, at daybreak, along the rugged course of a torrent, which had now degenerated to a shallow, trickling stream. High, barren mountains beetled above and almost over our track; and frequently their bases approached so near to one another, that six could scarcely ride abreast. At every step, we expected to see our enemies make their appearance on the heights, from whence they might almost with impunity have done us any injury which their long rifles, or juzzails, were capable of inflicting; but, singularly enough, not an enemy was to be seen, and we passed unmolested through the rugged defile. At about six miles from the outlet, we encountered a large body of Sikh troops occupying the road, whilst detachments were posted above them on the heights. These belonged to the army of the frontier, stationed at Peshawur. With their national modesty, they failed not to inform us that they were our deliverers from the hands of the Khyberees; and loudly proclaimed, that without their co-operation, we never should have escaped from the jaws of the Khyber Pass. Nevertheless, these heroes had taken the precaution of not advancing into the most arduous part of the defile; and previously to the British advance into Afghanistan, they had not been much acquainted with the geography of these mountains.
Towards the exit of the Pass, the mountains, though loftier and nearly as abrupt, recede considerably from one another. On emerging from them, we entered an extensive plain, and encamped near the fort of Futtehghur, which was lately built by Runjeet Singh as a frontier position. Near its walls, a long line of dusky tents marked the station of the Peshawur forces. Our lines were soon overrun by swarms of inquisitive Sikh warriors, mounted on lean, weedy horses, and carrying lances and beards of nearly equal length.
We marched early the following morning. The ground we quitted was soon occupied by the rear column, which also passed unobstructed through the defile with the state-prisoners.
The Sikhs raised a yell of execration and abuse at the sight of Hadji Khan; but he, turning in his saddle with a smile of contempt, exclaimed—
"Yelp on, ye dastardly curs—it was not your prowess which made me a captive! Many a time, at the head of a few brave Afghan followers, have I made ye sing a different song; and, with Allah's help, I trust I may live to do so again!"