The Ridge at Delhi is a sufficiently moving reminder of the Indian
Mutiny; but it is at Lucknow that the most poignant phases are
re-enacted. At Delhi may be seen, preserved for ever, the famous
buildings which the British succeeded in keeping--Hindu Rao's house,
and the Observatory, and Flagstaff Tower, the holding of which gave them
victory; while in the walls of the Kashmir Gate our cannon balls are
still visibly imbedded. There is also the statue of John Nicholson in
the Kudsia Garden, and in the little Museum of the Fort are countless
souvenirs.
But Lucknow was the centre of the tragedy, and the Residency is
preserved as a sacred spot. Not even the recent Great War left in its
track any more poignant souvenirs of fortitude and disaster than the
little burial ground here, around the ruins of the church, where those
who fell in the Mutiny and those who fought or suffered in the Mutiny
are lying. Long ago as it was--1857--there are still a few vacant lots
destined to be filled. Chief of the tombstones that bear the honoured
names is that of the heroic defender who kept upon the topmost roof the
banner of England flying. It has the simple and touching inscription:
"Here lies Henry Lawrence, who tried to do his duty. May the Lord have
mercy on his soul!"
In the Residency every step of the siege and relief can be followed.
I was there first on a serene evening after rain; and but for some
tropical trees it might have been an English scene. All that was lacking
was a thrush or blackbird's note; but the grass was as soft and green
as at home and the air as sweet. I shall long retain the memory of the
contrast between the incidents which give this enclosure its unique
place in history and the perfect calm brooding over all. And whenever
any one calls my attention to a Bougainvillaea I shall say, "Ah! But you
should see the Bougainvillaea in the Residency garden at Lucknow."
Everywhere that I went in India I found this noble lavish shrub in full
flower, but never wearing such a purple as at Lucknow. The next best was
in the Fort at Delhi. It was not till I reached Calcutta that I caught
any glimpse of the famous scarlet goldmore tree in leaf; but I saw
enough to realise how splendid must be the effect of an avenue of them.
Bombay, however, was rich in hedges of poinsettia, and they serve as an
introduction to the goldmore's glory.
Before leaving the Residency I should like to quote a passage from the
little brochure on the defence of Lucknow which Sir Harcourt Butler, the
Governor of the United Provinces, with characteristic thoughtfulness has
prepared for the use of his guests. "The visitor to the Residency,"
he wrote, thinking evidently of a similar evening to that on which we
visited it, "who muses on the past and the future, may note that upon
the spot where the enemy's assault was hottest twin hospitals for
Europeans and Indians have been erected by Oudh's premier Taluqdar,
the Maharaja of Balrampur; and as the sun sets over the great city,
lingering awhile on the trim lawns and battered walls which link the
present with the past, a strong hope may come to him, like a distant
call to prayer, that old wounds may soon be healed, and old causes of
disunion may disappear, and that Englishmen and Indians, knit together
by loyalty to their beloved Sovereign, may be as brothers before the
altar of the Empire, bearing the Empire's burden, and sharing its
inestimable privileges, and, it may be, adding something not yet seen or
dreamt of to its world-wide and weather-beaten fame."
I left Lucknow with regret, and would advise any European with time
to spare, and the desire to be at once civilised and warm, to think
seriously of spending a winter there instead of in the illusory sunshine
of the Riviera, or the comparative barbarity of Algiers. The journey is
longer, but the charm of the place would repay.