Country of the Ryots.
Agra was at one time the summer residence of the Moghul of Delhi—it stands on the Jumna river, whose waters lave the walls of the Palace. On the marble slab in front of the throne, where in days gone by stood many a proud Mahometan, when the Rajpoots lorded over the conquered Hindoos, stood Lord Ellenborough, representative of proud England, surrounded by her warriors and heroes of many a hard-fought battle, and knighted Generals Pollock and Nott by Her Majesty's command for bravery. In Agra also is the tomb or Targ of the great and mighty Ackbar's favourite daughter, built of white marble, and looked upon as one of the wonders of the world for its unsurpassing grandeur—it was erected 700 years ago. Under the immense dome are two slabs, covering the mausoleum, inlaid with precious stones. The dome is flanked by four marble minarets 150 feet in height—the garden approaching the tomb is full of orange and lemon trees—the sacred lotus flower perfumes the air—every spot around it is sacred to the Mahometan.
The order to march was issued on the 20th of November. This is the most delightful time of the year in India—not so hot during the day—mornings and evenings lovely and cool. The country of the Ryots through which we marched is certainly a beautiful one, judging at this time of the year. They are mostly Hindoos, are quiet, harmless and industrious. It looked strange to us, now so near Christmas, to see hundreds of acres of golden wheat ready for harvesting—no hedges or fencing here, but as far as the eye can reach one field of waving yellow, mixed with red poppy.
The Hindoos are firm believers in transmigration, consequently never eat any animal food. The Brama or Sacred Bull, mostly white, with a hump on his shoulders, his head hung with garlands of flowers, is allowed to range where he likes, and is fed out of flour or sugar-barrels, and none dare molest him. The women are most degraded—never educated,—they are not supposed to possess souls—they never eat with men, and among the high caste they are not allowed to be seen by another man. After marriage, which is contracted when about twelve years of age, they are old and ugly when thirty is reached. When I have seen a group of these girls waiting with their lamps at the four corners of the road for the bridegroom, I have often thought of the parable of the Ten Virgins.
The Chumble river crossed.
Our march was generally finished by nine in the morning. After guards and pickets have been placed, I have nearly always visited the nearest village, having learned some Hindoostanee. I could make them understand. I always found them civil and kind, but afraid of soldiers, some Europeans being very insulting, and even I have heard complaints of being robbed of fruit, poultry, or anything suitable to them. The followers of an Indian army being all natives, but of course of different parts of India, are generally great thieves. Naturally an army en route is very destructive, so many animals to feed—elephants, camels, horses. The Government profess to pay for everything used, especially if camped in a grain or cotton field.
March to battle.
We arrived at the river Chumble on 24th December, and moved as follows:—16th Lancers in front, 40th following, up to their armpits in water, next the artillery, then the 39th, and so on. We had information before crossing that the enemy would probably oppose the landing, as they were in the neighbourhood, but we saw none of them. We were ordered to gallop to the front and reconnoitre. As we advanced about five miles we saw the enemy's camp at a distance between two villages. We halted allowing the column to come up. The ground here was very rough, and interspersed by ugly ravines. Between us and them was a very deep Nulla, with only two places to ford it, five miles apart. Wet as we were from our recent fording the Chumla, I had to go on in charge of the advance guard and remain all night. Our baggage, or tents, not having come up—what was worse the Commissariat had not arrived, and we felt hungry. The enemy's cavalry were reconnoitering on our front, and during the night a very strict watch was kept up. Morning at last dawned, beautiful as weather could make it—Christmas morning and all—and a pretty plight it found us in, hungry, wet clothes, and if we wanted to drink we had plenty muddy water. About four o'clock, p.m., I was ordered to mount again, take twenty men, and strengthen the outlying pickets. We had not taken off boots or clothes for four days, nor had the saddles been off the horses during the same time. I was further directed by the officer in charge of the picket, after I had reported to him, to take six troopers to the front as an extra look-out on the ford, patrolling myself between my post and the main picket every half-hour. About twelve at night a rocket went up from a village within our lines, and was answered immediately by a light from the enemy's camp. The village was at once surrounded, and every man in it made prisoners. I suffered fearfully that night, being so long in the saddle with wet trousers; my legs were as raw as a piece of beef. Give me fighting—fair open fighting, at once—in preference to such torture. We waited here, without attacking, three days, expecting some of General Grey's division, mainly from Cawnpore, towards Gwalior.
On the night of the 28th we got orders quietly to turn out at 4 o'clock in the morning, 29th December, to march without baggage or other incumbrance, with one day's cooked rations. We fell into line exactly to time, when Lord Gough with Lord Ellenborough and staff rode along the front, speaking words of encouragement to each corps.
Battle.