"Has the sahib discovered any curiosities below?" demanded the intruder, as I rose from my occupation.
"No; but perhaps you can enlighten me on the subject of this huge pile, and as to your native traditions of the architect and his intentions," I replied, in mongrel Hindustani, which this native was intelligent enough to comprehend.
"I was here some years ago," he answered, "when General Ventura searched this well and discovered many ancient pieces of gold, and silver, and copper. The mound has stood here many centuries, before the Sikhs possessed this country, and is generally supposed by the country-people to have been erected by Shah Sikunder (Alexander the Great) as a monument over some one of his generals, who, probably, fell in battle near this spot. Our architects declare that the monument was of a foreign origin."
Such was the pith of the information given by my heathen companion, as we descended together from the building by the rude staircase, constructed, perhaps, by the hands of Macedonian engineers and masons, and trodden by the foot of the invincible Alexander, whose mighty deeds and conquests, although they have transmitted the deathless name of the conqueror to posterity, have failed in assigning a definite spot to his achievements here, or in marking the limit of his advances into Hindostan—if, indeed, he ever did penetrate as far as those realms—if, alas! that after a whole life devoted to the pursuit of the phantom, Ambition, (which was, probably, nearer the grasp of the Macedonian than that of any subsequent devotee,) the attainment of his favourite project, the conquest of the East, should at this day remain a matter of uncertainty. Such is fame, and so much worth, that gnawing and unaccountable desire to live in the memories of posterity, which animates alike the poet, the statesman, the soldier, and the philosopher, to a life of labour, anxiety, hardships, or study, that his name may survive when the body has partaken of the common lot of mortality, and lies insensible alike to the worms which are gnawing the flesh, and its fellow worms above who are probably toiling to destroy that reputation which was the fond and nurturing object of its earthly career.
The keenest satire on ambition which I have read, lies in the observation of Horace—
"Expende Annibalem, quot libras in duce summo invenies?"
But let the cynic sneer his fill at the desire of distinction during life, and the cravings for a name with posterity; such is the indefinable condition of the animal, man, that I firmly believe no mortal ever existed who could despise the prospect of their attainment. Such are the uncertainties which attend human attainments and foresight, that a heathen fanatic has, at one fell swoop, destroyed the labours and monuments of ages of literature,[56] and left the very existence of many sages of antiquity to be called in question: and the stupendous pyramids, on which the suns and storms of unknown ages have beaten, still rear their aged crests into the serene sky, whilst the object and even the names of their projectors remain a matter of doubt and dispute.
Whilst indulging these sombre reflections, at the foot of the Tope of Manikyala, my reverie was interrupted by the approach of a Sikh, who displayed some coins for sale, which the first glance assured me were spurious. Reader, be not alarmed; after this dissertation on the novel topic of the vanity of human forethought, I will not indulge you with a treatise on the still more uncommon theme of dishonesty. I will merely add, that I returned the Sikh his coins, telling him that they were worth a trifle under their actual weight in copper, and then adjourned to a breakfast which the impatience of two brother officers had made cold and scanty. The village of Manikyala has been so completely denuded of antiquities, by the diligence of European travellers, that not a coin of any value was found there by any of our party.
As we proceeded, a barren country still surrounded us, intersected, in the most singular manner, by deep ravines, which appeared to have been caused by heavy floods from the mountains. So frequent, deep, and precipitous are these rents in the soil, that even were the natives ever so industriously disposed, the culture of such a surface would be attended with great disadvantage, both on account of the infertility of the soil, and the difficulty of tillage and communication.
Having descended into the dry course of a river, we pursued its sandy track nearly to the banks of the Jhelum river, which is better known under its classical name of Hydaspes.