BENARES TO LUCKNOW.--SIGHTS IN THE CAPITAL OF OUDE.--THE RELIEF OF
LUCKNOW.--KAVANAGH'S STORY.
After the foregoing letter was completed our young friends devoted
another day to sight-seeing in Benares in company with Doctor Bronson.
They went through the narrow streets, where it is impossible for
carriages to circulate, and were jostled by the sacred cattle that
frequently blocked the way; the pilgrims gave them a wide berth for the
reasons already stated, but the animals were not so particular. They saw
temples and shrines in great number, and readily accepted the statement
that Benares was wholly given to idolatry, and was the holiest city of
India in the eyes of the natives. They gazed upon the devotees that
thronged the streets and crowded to the bank of the river, and now and
then saw a dying Hindoo who was being carried to the ghauts, that he
might breathe his last with his eyes fixed on the sacred stream.
[Illustration: A JEWELLER OF BENARES.]
Frank had heard of the fine shawls, jewellery, and beautiful brasswork
of Benares, and, with the last letter of Mary and Miss Effie in his
mind, he was impatient to visit the bazaars where those things were
sold. But there arose a difficulty in inducing the guide to show them
the shops devoted to brasswork; the hotel had a salesroom for the same
material, and the proprietor naturally regarded his patrons as his
particular prey, especially as his prices were much higher than those of
the city merchants. The guide finally said he was not allowed to conduct
strangers to any shop other than that of the hotel, and accordingly his
services were dispensed with, and the Doctor undertook the office of
guide with very fair success.
There is no part of the world where one finds a more perfect system of
making money out of the patron of a hotel than in India. Only those
peddlers who pay a commission to the proprietor or manager are allowed
to enter it, even to deliver goods that have been bought outside; and
sometimes the manager requires all payments for purchases to pass
through his hands, so that he may know the proper amount of his
"squeeze," and secure it on the spot. The writer constantly came in
contact with this custom during his travels in India, and on several
occasions it was managed so openly that a blind man could hardly fail to
see it. At the hotel in Delhi the manager stood by to witness
transactions between peddlers and strangers, and when he was called away
for a brief period he coolly asked if anything had been bought in his
absence, and how much was paid. On one occasion the commission was
handed over without the least attempt at concealment, and on another the
payment was made behind a screen, and so near that the chink of the coin
was plainly heard. Some of the hotels farm out the privilege of selling
goods under their roofs for a fixed annual sum, and allow no peddlers
other than the contracting ones to enter, while others give entrance to
everybody, and require a commission on the sales. The same custom
prevails in other parts of the East, and it is safe to assume that all
goods bought in a hotel will be from twenty to fifty per cent. dearer
than if purchased in the bazaars or public shops.
Benares brass-ware is in great variety, and our young friends were so
delighted with it that they bought liberally. It consists of trays,
plates, cups, goblets, vases, and kindred things that are chased with
various designs of scroll-work, flowers, animals, deities, and other
describable and indescribable things. The trays and plates are sold
usually for about three rupees a seer--two pounds avoirdupois--and the
goblets, mugs, and vases have a price by the piece or pair for which no
exact figure can be laid down. The cheapest mugs cost a rupee each, and
the goblets five rupees a pair. Then there are many varieties of idols
in brass and bronze, and the visitor to Benares is pretty likely to
secure a few of them to show his friends at home what the Hindoo idol is
like.
The shops for shawls and cloths embroidered with gold and silver had a
good many tempting things displayed to the best advantage; Frank bought
a couple of the smallest of the shawls, and reserved himself and his
money for further efforts in that line at Delhi. The Doctor told him the
shawls were not made in Benares, but came from other cities, many of
them from Delhi, whither they were going. He further explained that the
manufactures of Benares were not at all numerous, and the city derived
its principal income from the hosts of pilgrims who come every year to
worship at its shrines.
[Illustration: A PIOUS PILGRIM.]
The boys discovered that the holy pilgrims were not only in constant
fear lest they should be contaminated by the touch of a European, but
they would not even allow his shadow to fall on them or on the food they
were cooking; the Doctor said that if such an accident should happen to
a Hindoo's dinner it would be thrown away, and the pot in which it was
being prepared would need a vigorous scouring to fit it for further use.
But while they had such a dread of a white man's shadow they had no fear
of his money, and would handle all he gave them without the least
hesitation. They constantly saw the pilgrims begging in the streets, and
were importuned by them; Frank thought some of the beggars made
themselves comfortable, as they were seated in couples on a frame like a
small bedstead in little nooks and corners where it was impossible to
pass without going near them. Others stood against the walls under the
shadow of the buildings, and others were seated at the roadside, and
besought every passer-by to give them something. The boys tried them
with small coins, and soon found that, while they feared pollution from
everything else belonging to the European, they were not troubled about
his cash.
[Illustration: RELIGIOUS BEGGARS AT BENARES.]
From Benares our friends proceeded to Lucknow by the Oude and Rohilcund
Railway; it is a distinct company from the East Indian Railway, but runs
in harmony with it and serves to bring it a good deal of business. The
distance is 199 miles, but so dignified is the pace of the trains that
the journey from Benares to Lucknow consumes nearly twelve hours. The
equipment has an appearance of antiquity, and Frank said that if the
railway had been in existence in the time of Aurengzebe, he could
readily believe the great conqueror had travelled in their carriage. But
as the road took them through in safety he did not complain, nor did his
companions, since they realized how much better the worst railway is
than no railway at all.
It was evening when they reached Lucknow, so that there was no
opportunity for seeing the place until the following day; the hotel
where they stopped was a curious structure originally built for a
wealthy native, and very badly designed for the home of Europeans. The
rooms were strangely connected, that of Frank having no less than six
doors, opening into as many halls and rooms; the locks were very much
out of repair, and it was evident that any enterprising thief might do
pretty much as he liked among heavy sleepers. The dining-room was two
stories in height, and warmed by a small stove which just served to make
the cold perceptible; the kitchen was a long way from the dining-room,
and nearly everything was chilled through by the time it reached the
table.
Bright and early the next morning the three were out of their beds and
ready for a tour of the place. They drove to the most famous buildings
of Lucknow, and were shown through them by the custodians or by the
guide that accompanied them from the hotel, and in a little while their
heads were full of palaces and Oriental gold and glitter, till Fred
thought he would have a good deal of difficulty afterward in remembering
"which was which."
[Illustration: THE IMAMBARA AT LUCKNOW.]
The most gorgeous of all the edifices they saw was the Imambara, and
they spent twice as much time in it as in any other. It is considered
the finest of all the palaces of Lucknow, and its reputed cost is a
million pounds sterling. The story is that it was begun in a time of
famine to give employment to a starving population, and its construction
required nearly ten years. It was not finished till 1783, so that it
is quite modern by comparison with other public buildings of Lucknow.
The king who built it invited architects to compete for the design, and
stipulated that it should not be a copy of any existing building, and
should surpass in beauty anything of the kind ever built. At the time of
the capture of Lucknow the English troops destroyed a large part of the
interior decorations, and since the reoccupation of the city the
Imambara is used as an arsenal.
It stands on a hill overlooking a considerable extent of country, and
the visitor who climbs to the top has the greater part of Lucknow at his
feet. There is a large court-yard in front of it, and this yard is
adorned with mosques and other Moslem structures, and also a miniature
lake in the centre, with a bridge over it. There is very little wood
work about the building, and it was evidently the intention of the
architect and the king that the Imambara should stand unharmed for
centuries.
Frank and Fred confessed their inability to describe the building in
words, and wisely purchased photographs to enclose to their friends, as
the easiest way out of the difficulty. "But the photograph can't show
the size of the building," said one of the boys, "and so we must make a
few notes." They did so with the following result:
Length of Imambara 303 feet.
Breadth " 163 "
Height " 63 "
"The central room," said Frank, "is 163 feet long by 53 wide, and it is
49 feet high, with walls 16 feet thick. Then there is an octagonal room
216 feet in circumference, with walls of the same thickness as the other
room, and it is 53 feet high in the centre. If this doesn't take away
your breath you may think of another room, 54 feet square, and the same
in height, and you must remember that this whole building was finished
with stone carving, as though it had been intended for ornamenting a
parlor."
[Illustration: THE MARTINIERE.]
Then they went to the _Martiniere_, a fantastic building, constructed by
General Claude Martine, a French adventurer, who came to Lucknow toward
the end of the last century and entered the service of the king. He had
nothing when he arrived, but, by careful management of his money and his
influence with the king, he was worth a million or two of dollars at the
time of his death in 1800. He built this house as his own residence and
in his own way, and the building is said to combine more styles of
architecture than any other in all India. He was buried in the house,
in a tomb under the central dome. At the time of the Mutiny the rebels
opened the tomb and scattered the bones, but some of them were afterward
recovered and restored to their resting-place.
[Illustration: DYERS AT LUCKNOW.]
They drove and afterward walked through the streets of the native city,
and were greatly interested in the industries of Lucknow. They passed
shop after shop of the jewellers, and saw the artisans busy with their
simple apparatus of blow-pipe and a few tools; they had seen the same
sort of work at Benares, and were impressed with the skill of the men
who need so few tools to accomplish what requires a great many in the
hands of a European. Lucknow is famous for cotton cloths in various
colors, and the dyers are said to display great skill in their work, and
to possess several secret processes in making colors that will hold.
They work with a few pots and pans, and the indelible nature of their
dyes is said to show itself by giving a tint to their hands that
requires weeks of washing and waiting to eradicate.
They had a letter to an American resident of Lucknow, the Rev. Mr.
Craven, and in the course of their morning's drive stopped at his office
to deliver it. He asked if they had visited the Residency, which was
made famous during the siege of Lucknow, and on learning they had not
done so he made a proposition that was received with delight by the
trio.
"Postpone your visit to the Residency till to-morrow," said he, "and I
will meet you there and endeavor to introduce you to Mr. Kavanagh, the
man who went through the rebel lines in the disguise of a native, and
piloted the army of Sir Colin Campbell to the relief of Lucknow."
A proposal like this did not require many moments for acceptance. It was
arranged that Mr. Craven would meet them at the Residency at seven
o'clock to show the points of interest, and, if possible, would have Mr.
Kavanagh join them an hour later.
At the appointed time our friends met Mr. Craven, and were shown through
the Residency, which is in very nearly the state it was found when
Lucknow was captured from the rebels in 1857. There are moss-grown and
ivy-twined walls, and the shattered tower rises like a beacon above the
tree-tops, as it rose when watchful eyes looked day after day for the
relief that finally came from Cawnpore. An artificial mound supports the
monument to Sir Henry Lawrence, who fell during the siege, and there are
gravelled roads and paths through the shrubbery and among the plots of
grass. Small columns of brick mark the positions of the various
batteries by which the approaches were defended, and a neat fence
encloses the cemetery where the dead of the memorable defence are
buried.
Doctor Bronson and the youths were shown the many points of interest in
and around the place. Mr. Craven explained that during the siege the
underground rooms of the Residency were occupied by some of the women
and children; the ground floor was used as a hospital, and the upper
rooms were quite untenable in consequence of the shot and shell that
poured through them. An officer was always on duty at the top of the
tower, or on the roof of the building, with a good telescope, to report
the movements of the enemy, and, when relief was expected, to keep a
sharp lookout for it. While they were standing in front of the building,
a gentleman with a robust figure and a snowy mustache and whisker joined
them, and was introduced as Mr. Kavanagh; after a little preliminary
conversation the party sat down on the lower step of the monument to Sir
Henry Lawrence, and the story of the siege was told.
[Illustration: THE RESIDENCY AT LUCKNOW.]
The rebellion broke out in the early part of 1857, and by June of that
year the English were acting on the defensive. Sir Henry Lawrence had
thoughtfully gathered large quantities of ammunition and provisions in
the Residency buildings, and when the English went there they were well
provided with everything except the numbers necessary for the defence.
The original strength of the garrison was 1692, consisting of 927
Europeans and 765 natives; there were about 200 women and children, some
of them being families of the defenders and others fugitives from
various parts of the province. The distance around the Residency is more
than a mile--a long line to hold against a besieging force. The siege
properly began on June 30th, and ended the 25th of September, when Sir
Henry Havelock and Sir James Outram arrived. They added to the garrison
and gave a sense of security, but in one sense their mission was a
failure. They were to relieve the garrison and escort it to Cawnpore,
but they suffered so terribly in cutting their way through the
investing lines that it was considered injudicious to make the attempt.
So they remained, and as they brought nothing with them they drew
heavily upon the stock of provisions; the whole garrison was reduced to
quarter rations, and relief was anxiously awaited.
In the latter part of November Sir Colin Campbell advanced from Cawnpore
in the direction of Lucknow, and word was brought to the garrison by a
native spy. Knowing how severely Havelock had suffered in his advance,
those who understood the situation feared a similar fate for General
Campbell. Mr. Kavanagh said the subject was constantly in his mind, and
he became convinced that some one who could give intelligent information
must go out to meet the advancing army. "I went," said he, "to Colonel
Napier, whom I had known for twenty years, and stated my views. He
agreed with me, but did not see how it could be done. He said it would
be certain death to any European who undertook it, and no native could
be trusted or could give the proper information to General Campbell. I
told him I would go, but he laughed at the idea, and said I could never
make up as a native. I thought I could, and asked him to take me to
General Outram.
"He took me to General Outram," continued Mr. Kavanagh, "and the general
was of Colonel Napier's opinion. But I saw he was willing I should go if
I would, though he would not give his sanction, nor would he ask me. He
said if any one went it must be an unmarried man, and as I had a wife
and children I had better drop the idea. I answered, 'My life is
endangered every hour, and if I go out and am killed it will only hasten
the event. If I succeed I shall save many lives, perhaps all in the
Residency, and certainly many of those of the relieving force. I shall
go, and leave my family to the care of the British nation.'
"Then I went and borrowed native garments, only one in each place, to
avoid suspicion, and in the evening took my bundle to the house of a man
I could trust. There I dressed myself, and my friend blacked my face and
hands with oil and burnt cork. Then I went to the officers' mess,
entered with my shoes on, and sat down uninvited--very rude things for a
native to do. The officers commented in English on my impudence and
asked me in Hindostanee what I wanted. I replied in the same language
that I wished to see Colonel Napier.
"He was called, and I talked to him in Hindostanee, pretending to be a
friendly spy from the outside; then I asked for General Outram, and
Colonel Napier went to call him. When General Outram came I talked to
him in the native language, and then said in English that I thought my
disguise would answer, as neither he nor Napier had recognized me.
"'Why--it's Kavanagh!' they both said together. They agreed it was a
good disguise, and at my request General Outram wrote a letter to
General Campbell telling who I was. I hid it in my turban, and, about
eleven o'clock, started in company with a native spy."
The pair had many adventures. They forded the river near the Residency,
recrossed it by the iron bridge, and entered the city. They were stopped
at the head of the bridge by a native officer, who questioned them
closely; Kavanagh did the talking, as his companion was greatly
frightened, and his plausible story carried them through. In the city
the native wanted to go through the narrow alleys and unfrequented
streets, but Kavanagh insisted that the middle of the widest street was
the safest; he carried his point, and it proved correct. They came to a
native picket-guard, and, lest the sergeant might reconsider the matter
and recall them, Kavanagh turned back after going a few steps and
borrowed a man to show them a short distance on the way. They were again
lost, and entered a house close to a camp, where they roused a woman,
who told them in a garrulous way, which they encouraged, all about the
soldiers in the vicinity, and set them in the proper direction. Again
they were lost, and floundered in a marsh, where Kavanagh carried his
clothes and other things on his head, and supported his companion, who
could not swim. Morning was approaching, the moon was up, and he
discovered that much of the blacking was washed from his face, while his
hands were nearly as white as before he colored them. He was almost
exhausted; had injured his foot severely, and half his clothing was wet.
But on he must press to meet the advancing column, and he knew not how
far away it was.
An hour before daybreak they met villagers fleeing with what property
they could carry, and the spies learned, to their great but carefully
concealed joy, that the English were only three miles away. As day
dawned they reached one of the outposts of Sikh cavalry, and were halted
by an old Sikh, who took the pair to his captain. Just as the sun rose,
Mr. Kavanagh, his face streaked and spotted like a coach-dog, was at the
entrance of Sir Colin Campbell's tent. The old fellow gruffly demanded
who he was, and what he wanted.
"My name is Kavanagh," was the reply; "I left the Residency last night,
and here is a letter from General Outram."
General Campbell stood for a moment astonished, and then drew the
counterfeit native into his tent, embraced him like a brother, and
treated him as tenderly as though he had been a child. At Kavanagh's
request he was given a bed, but he was so overcome by his emotions that
he could not sleep, and, after tossing uneasily for an hour or more,
he rose and sat down to breakfast with the general. "I had a ravenous
appetite," said he; "and they had so many good things that I could not
restrain my astonishment. 'Marmalade!' I said; 'have you real
marmalade?' 'Where did you get your eggs? And potted meats!--what a
luxury!' I went on in this way while the general was asking about the
Residency, and the rebels, and the road to Lucknow; and altogether the
story was a fragmentary one. Afterward we went over it better, and the
general made his plans.
[Illustration: MERCHANTS OF LUCKNOW.]
"Officers and men wanted to see me, and I asked if I could take a stroll
through the camp. 'Not without me,' said Sir Colin; 'the officers will
ask all sorts of questions if you go alone, and then each one will have
his plan for entering Lucknow. I propose to do my own planning, and
when you go through the camp you go with me, so that no one can talk to
you.' With this arrangement we went through the camp, and satisfied
their curiosity to see me.
"When I left the Residency it was arranged that my wife should know
nothing of my departure till it was certain that I had succeeded or was
dead. Three miles out on the Cawnpore road was the Alumbagh, a fortified
garden, where Havelock left his heavy baggage, with a guard of a hundred
men. There was a semaphore telegraph there to communicate with the
Residency, and I arranged to call at the Alumbagh and have them
telegraph my arrival; but I found it so closely invested by the rebels
that I could not enter, and so kept straight on to General Campbell.
[Illustration: AN OLD SIKH.]
"When I told him about it he instantly ordered a column of Sikh cavalry
to cut their way into the Alumbagh, and have them telegraph that I was
safe. All the morning they had been asking from the Residency, 'Has
Kavanagh arrived?' The answers were unintelligible, as they knew nothing
about Kavanagh; General Outram and Colonel Napier feared I had been
killed, and so did the other officers who knew about my departure. All
were terribly anxious, and when about eleven o'clock the semaphore
spelled out, 'KAVANAGH HAS REACHED SIR COLIN SAFELY,' those strong
fellows cried like children, and hugged each other with joy. One of them
ran to tell my wife, who rubbed her eyes in astonishment, as she
supposed all the time that I was on duty in the trenches. When she knew
the story she sat down and cried too."
As he reached this point in the story his voice choked, and the tears
stood in his eyes. His listeners were likewise moist in the eyelids, and
did not venture to speak. Doctor Bronson kept counting the links of his
watch-chain, but could not make them out twice alike, and the boys were
looking vacantly at the ground, as though they were not expecting to
find anything there. There was a silence of several minutes, and then
the music of a military band sounded in the distance, and all raised
their heads. Nearer and nearer came the band, and louder grew the
sounds. At length an English regiment appeared, crossed the iron bridge
over the Goomtee River, and came on and on till it passed close to the
Residency. "Let us go and see it," said Kavanagh, and the party rose and
walked down the lawn to the roadside.
As the soldiers marched past where they stood, the veteran's eye grew
bright and the blood rose to his face; he was ten years younger in a few
minutes, and his thoughts evidently carried him back to the days when
the sound of the Scottish bagpipes was borne on the Indian breeze, and
Havelock's army came to the relief of the beleaguered garrison. And
while they silently gazed on the moving column, with its flashing rifles
and waving banners, Frank was conning over in his memory the lines of
Whittier, wherein is narrated the story of the Scotch girl at Lucknow,
whose ears heard the music of her childhood long before it was
distinguished by her companions:
"Dinna ye hear it? Dinna ye hear it?
The pipes o' Havelock sound?"
Then they strolled back to the Residency, where Kavanagh told the story
of the relief; of the capture of the various rebel positions; the
meeting of General Campbell with Generals Havelock and Outram; of the
retirement in the night, the march to Cawnpore, the terrible revenge of
the British troops on the rebels, and the return of the army in the
following spring. And then, with a hearty hand-shake and farewell, he
said good-bye, mounted his horse, which a native groom was holding close
by, and galloped off toward the city. This was the man who ventured
through the closely-drawn lines of 50,000 rebel sepoys, where discovery
would have been certain death, and most probably death by torture.