With the Connaught Rangers

by Edward Herbert Maxwell

The durbar was a magnificent sight. There we saw gathered together most of the great powers of India; the Begum of Bhopaul, our steady friend, men that had done us good service during our evil times, and others who had done us as little as they could. All had been rewarded, as far as possible, according to their works. Each noble vied with his neighbour in the number and beauty of his ornaments, and the rays of the sun blazed on priceless jewels.

But our stay at Agra was not a period of idleness. Reviews and sham battles kept the troops occupied from hour to hour. I had command of a brigade, and often left my tent before the dawn, when night still darkened all around, and the stars alone lit up the sky. It was during the month of November, and the fall of meteors was constantly to be seen; their appearance as they fell in dazzling brightness being most startling and sublime. From all parts of the compass they came. First a long stream of light, which reminded me of the ‘bouquets’ the Russians sent us during the siege of Sebastopol, and then a ball of fire, which burst like a rocket, leaving all in darkness again. And so it continued till the sun rose in its splendour, and the air became full of noisy life.

As a variety to our military morning work, there were various large dinners, given by the governor-general and the commander-in-chief. There were dances also. The Rajah of Jeypore entertained us all at a splendid ball, and Scindia illuminated the Taj. We should have enjoyed our halt at Agra very much had not that dreadful curse, cholera, invaded the camp, and caused the loss of several valuable lives. One night my wife alarmed me by assuring me that she felt very ill. The medicine-chest was in our other large tent, where my wife’s maid slept, at some distance from the one we were occupying. I got hold of my bearer, and, writing a note, dispatched him with it to M’Kay, the maid. After some delay, she appeared, very lightly clad, with my note in her hand, saying, ‘A man had come a long way with this, and wanted the colonel to get it at once.’ Her knowledge of Hindostani was limited, and she had not recognised the bearer.

CHAPTER VI.
DELHI.

BY TRAIN TO DELHI—THE RAILWAY STATION IN 1866—BRIDGE OF BOATS—PALACE OF DELHI—THE JUMNA—MUSJID—REMINISCENCES OF DELHI—VALUABLE COPY OF THE KORAN—AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SULTAN BABER—MAUSOLEUM OF SUFTER JUNG—MARCH IN COLD WEATHER—LUXURIOUS TENTS—SOLDIERS’ WIVES IN INDIA—KURNAL—GOVERNMENT STUD—CHRISTMAS IN INDIA—UMBALLAH—TREMENDOUS STORM—UMRITSUR—MARCH INTO RAWUL PINDEE.

CHAPTER VI.

Owing to the fell presence of the grim visitor, cholera, the durbar broke up sooner than was intended, and my regiment received orders to proceed by train to Delhi, en route to Rawul Pindee. My wife not being very well, I decided to go on at night by passenger train. The left wing of the regiment was to follow by special train, but the station-master was not certain when he could despatch them, leaving a wide margin, between 6 p.m. or 1 a.m. 3 a.m. saw us, tired and miserable, at our journey’s end, standing on the railway platform, without a coolie to help us with our luggage, or any more light than the glimmer our own lantern afforded. Such was the Delhi railway-station in 1866.

A gharry was at last procured, and wearied and worn we started for the hotel (which had been our mess-house when the Rangers were stationed here in 1859). The railway did not cross the river Jumna, which was spanned by a bridge of boats. This entailed further delay, as the pair of ponies had to be taken out and changed for bullocks before we ventured on the swaying structure. But the longest and most tedious journey ends at last, and so did ours as we stopped at Hamilton’s hotel. It was bitterly cold, and as in India the traveller carries his own bedding, and our luggage was still at the station, we had not a very comfortable night’s rest. As the morning advanced everything looked brighter. The weather was perfect, reminding one of a breezy autumn day at home. We drove out to the camp, which we found pitched in the old cantonments outside Delhi, where our army was encamped so long during the memorable siege in 1857.

As we left Delhi we passed through the Cashmere Gate, a monument now of gallant daring. My tents were pitched under a tope of trees, and the breeze sighing among the branches sounded like the wind up aloft at sea. We met a great many regiments at Delhi, as it was the relief season, and they were all on their way to new quarters. It made the difficulty greater than usual of getting carriage conveyance.

Being delayed several days, we spent our time visiting the sights in and near Delhi, specially the palace in whose vast hall, with its many pillars of marble, once stood the peacock throne, which was carried away by Nadir Shah in 1739. Along the cornice on each side of the chamber there is written in Arabic the inscription, ‘If there be a paradise on earth, it is this, it is this, it is this!’ The dilapidated state the whole of the palace was in when I first saw it in 1859 might have saddened anyone, but on this last visit what a change! Everything had been cared for, and the poetical beauty of the place was brought out with great success. In Delhi stands the Jumna-Musjid, i.e., the Friday mosque, Friday being the Mohammedan Sabbath. At the siege in 1857 our soldiers forced their way into this temple. A very great friend of mine, Coghill, who was then adjutant of the 2nd Fusiliers, was cheering the men on in his gallant, hearty way, and he came to what was called the holy of holies, a structure made in imitation of the prophet’s tomb at Mecca. Coghill seized hold of the koran, a large and heavy book kept in this place, and carried it off with several other wonders, such as a hair of the prophet’s moustache, and similar trustworthy valuables. As the koran was rather heavy, he handed it over to some one to take to one of the civilian officers.