THE PRINCE OF WALES IN INDIA.

Globe, Volume V, Issue 554, 28 March 1876, Page 3

THE PRINCE OF WALES IN INDIA.

The special correspondent of the Argus gives the following account of the Prince’s visit to Lucknow :

The next stopping place was Lucknow, a place hallowed to English ears by the story of the heroic siege, and no less heroic relief. Of all the places which the Prince has visited, this has been by far the most interesting, and we are near enough to the end of our journey to say that nothing will come up to it. Few more splendid sights have we seen ; indeed, Lucknow made but slight attempts to decorate itself in honor of the occasion, but the interest of the place is intrinsic ; and I think that the Prince himself, and the whole of his suite, thoroughly enjoyed and appreciated the visit. It would require a letter, and that a long one in iiself, to do justice to Lucknow, and It is unfortunately only one out of eight or ten cities visited by the Prince during the time which has elapsed since the sailing of the last mail to Australia, but I must describe it at some-length, even at the cost of devoting a far smaller space to the other cities than they deserve. Lucknow stands on a vast plain, and lies on the River Goomtee, which forms a sort of semicircular sweep round it. Upon the side near the river are the great palaces of the Oude kings, and upon this side, too, at a distance of some four hundred yards from the river, stands the Residency, originally closely hemmed in by the town, Let me try and picture the Residency as it now stands —one of the most interesting monuments the world contains of British valour and endurance. "When the question of the preservation of the Residency of Lucknow and of the various buildings enclosed in the breastwork was considered, it was evident that the real object in view was not only to retain them, hut to retain them in a state which should aw&keu recollections of the past, and not disgust at the present. Had the whole of the houses remained standing, the smaller would by this time have become masses of ruin; and the larger, with dilapidated roofs, much worn floors, accumulating dust and dirt, would have been unsightly and dangerous of entry. Hence the wise determination was taken of entirely sweeping away all the small houses, the preservation only of a few feet of the walls above ground of more important buildings, and the preservation of the shells of those which played an important part in the great siege. This was done by the removal of the roofs, floors, and every particle of woodwork, tidying up everything and sowing the floors with grass seed, so that the ruins already look almost as venerable as those of Tintern and Melrose. Half Lucknow has been swept away, and one approaches the residency through a well wooded park. Emerging from the trees one sees before one a great ruined gateway, battered by sbot and shell, and at two paces distant a low guardhouse, so seamed with bullets that one would be puzzled to find a space the size of the palm of one’s hand free from the msirka of strife. This is the entrance to the residency, the Bailey Guard-house and gate. Here Major Atkins and his faithful sepoys held guard throughout thesiege against a host of foes, losing nearly three-quarters of his little force. Behind the ground rises steeply, and here on one side stands Dr J?ayrer’s house, on the other the old banquetiing hall of the Residency, used throughout be"siege ak a hospital. Both are mere shells, loth bear bn all sides the marks of shot and ghell. This iq the siege was connected by a Iqw breastwork in which two guns were placed; these when the attack waxed fierce, were able to aid Atkins's gun by the gate below, and even had the gate been carried a last stand would have been made. Behind the hospital, at eighty yards distance, stands the Residency, a picturesque ruin indeed.

On the wall of what was once a room is the inscription—“ Here Sir J. Lawrence was wounded,” and _from the lower the British flag floats prptfijfy now, as it floated through the siege. house where the ladies took refuge through the siege, and where no few of them died, either cut down by the shot or shell which no mattresses or barriers could keep out, or by the yet more deadly enemy disease, still stands, as does the building in whose great underground chamber the soldiers were crowded when the fire was heaviest. The remains of the Sikh Barracks, of the post held by the boys of the Martiniere College, and many other historical buildings can still be traced, and a slightly, very slightly, rising ground, with here and there a pillar with an inscription, enables the visitor to trace the. course of the breastwork which so long resisted the wave of war. Here was Gubbins’s battery, here Innes’s, here Duprat’s. Here, too, is the cemetery, sheltered in low ground, neatly kept with flowers and shrubs, where sleep the noble men and women, and the children, who suffered, and died in that desperate time. p'Hlere lies Sir J. Lawrence, with the epitaph he dictated on his deathbed—who tried to do his duty. Here lies many a grave civilian, many a fiery young soldier, many a true wife and mother, many and many a child. Throughout the whole enclosure of the Residency everything is kept in beautiful order. The turf is green, the flowers bright and fair. There is no noise or tumult; the tide of war has swept away, the leaguering city has been torn down : all has the peace and quiet of a country churchyard at home. Outside the Bailey guard-gate a great green mound has been raised. Here an obelisk is to stand, sacred to the memory of the native troops who died in the defence of the Residency. Lord Northbrook has undertaken to pay the expenses, and we cannot but think that it should not have been so long neglected. In the burial ground are monuments erected by their comrades to the officers and men of nearly every British regiment engaged either in the siege or in either of the three advances npon the place, and it was fitting indeed that a monument should be raised to those who had remained true to their oath, and had died in defence of the flag they had sworn to serve, even when its enemies are their own countrymen. The Prince of Wales had undertaken to lay the foundation stone of the memorial, and the scene was the most impressive and real of anything we have seen in India. Forming a hollow square around three sides of the mound, the Bailey guard gate and train forming the fourth, were one of our English and two native regiments j behind whom were some native cavalry and a battery of artillery. On the right of the mound, looking from the Residency, were seats for the European residents, and for the great native chiefs of Oude, On the left were the survivors of the siege. The Prince stood in front of the memorial stone, with his suite and the officers of the garrison off duty, in uniform, ranged behind him. The Lieutenant-Governor, himself a sharer in the siege, placed himself before the Prince, and read an address, to which the Prince replied, expressing the pleasure he felt in inaugurating the movement. The stone was then laid in the usual way. and the ceremony would have ended here, had not the Prince expressed his wish that an open air levee should be held there and then, and that all the survivors present of that gallant band should be presented to him. This was a gracious action, and the honest pride which gladdened the faces of many of the old soldiers as they went away showed how warmly it was appreciated. It was a most interesting and indeed an affecting sight, to see these men defile past the Prince. Some fifteen of them were still in our service,, and appeared in their uniforms as native officers A finer looking band one would not wish to see. Each on presentation held out his sheathed sword, and the Prince touched the handle in token of acceptance of fealty. Others who had left the British service perhaps years ago, appeared in the uniforms they had last worn perhaps fifteen years before, hanging loosely now on the shrunken figures: Then came a number of men in native dress, some upright figures, with a comfortable well-to-do look about them, for there were many of them who distinguished themselves who received handsome presents—gifts of land, or pension from Government, Others there were, old and decrepit, some hobbling on sticks, some supported by friends; one, whose lower limbs were paralysed, passed on his hands. Some few looked in distressed circumstances, and this will, by the Prince’s order, be seen to. None of those who defended Lucknow Residency should have been allowed to feel the pangs of hunger. For these men, these decrepit time-worn figures, had proved themselves to be heroes in the day of danger. When all around were unfaithful, these alone were faithful found. The English fought nobly and desperately, but they were fighting for their lives and for the lives and honour of their wives and daughters —they fought well. But with these natives the temptation was all the other way. Their comrades in the army were among the foes of the Residency ; their coreligionists, their friends, their countrymen, their own colour and race were all there, and before each attack loud were the appeals to them to come out, to return to their faith, to leave the cursed Feringhee to his fate. Yet they stood true 1 Two-thirds of their number died fighting or from disease, yet they stood true 1 Their defection would have sealed the fate of the defenders. No man among their own countrymen would have rewarded them, and a certain death seemed imminent, a death the more dreaded, because, dying without the rites and ceremonies of burial so essential in the Hindoo creed, eternal punishment was to he their fate; and yet these men stood true! It will, indeed, be an eternal shame and disgrace to England if any of these men die in want or poverty. Lucknow is a place which fascinates one. The palace* are superb, but they are unfortunately built of stucco over brickwork, and in another generation their glory will have departed. Still, at present they are beautiful, and when tired of them one can drive out to the Alumbagh, and follow one or other of the routes through which’ Havelock first, and Campbell twice, fought hja way into the heart of Lucknow. No place in India, not even Delhi—no place indeed in the world—has witnessed so many desperate struggles, so many triumphs of British valor. Lawfence and Havelpck, Neil and Hodgson, with mupy hundreds of comrades us valiant perhaps, if less known to fame, sleep there ; and scarce a building round the town but whose name has become a word in British history, The town itself contains scarce a third of its original population. More than half of its houses have been swept away, and British bungalows and compounds, pleasant

gardens and wide roads, cover the track through which Havelock, and Outram, and Neil fought their way. The bazaar here ia at once varied and amusing, but Lucknow is full of Prudmashes and ruffians, men who under the stern British rule can no longer live by plunder, brigandage, and civil war ; and these scowl at the hated Englishman as he passes, and it ia scarcely safe to venture alone in the town.

Upon the line between Lucknow and Delhi we passed Cawnpore, and here a stay of a few hours was made. Oawnpore differs from Lucknow inasmuch as there are now no remains of the scenes with which the name is so sadly associated. Marochetti’s angel stands on the dread well, surrounded by a high gothic screen. An ugly church stands on the site of the bungalow and breastwork defended so desperately by Wheeler’s little garrison, but of the entrenchments themselves no sign - remains, and the most careful searcher t can find nothing to show where they ran, i Perhaps it is better so. At Lucknow our (Successful defence, and the Jentire overthrow and punishment inflicted on the enemy quite efface any thoughts of bitterness at the mutiny and rebellion; but at Oawnpore, although we may remember with admiration the desperate courage which so long held the frail line, our horror at the final catastrophe, our disgust at the treachery, which unable to conquer, entrapped in a snare by the mostsacred oaths, only sworn to At Oawnpore we still feel a bitterness and rage and hatred of race as we look at the grave of our murdered countrywomen, and it is as well that, save the angel over the well, there will be nothing in Oawnpore to recall to another generation of Englishmen the story of the wrongs and treachery and foul murder perpetrated there. There is, however, one scene of that fatal chapter which remains as it then stood. Turn to the left after crossing the bridge and follow along the wooded bank for half a mile. Here there is a break in the trees; a road comes down to the water’s edge, where stands a tiny Hindoo temple, and on the bank above are two houses, between which the road comes down. This is the slaughter ghaut. Here the garrison, having surrendered on the sacred oaths of the Nana and his troops, that a free passage down the Ganges in boats provided by the Nana should be given them, marched down, and had partially embarked, when Juartra Top with his troops emerged from their hiding places behind those two bungalows, and opened fire upon the mass huddled upon the water’s edge. A boat pushed off, only to be sunk afterwards by seamen from the Oude shore ; the swimming males were drawn up in line and shot, the women carried off to the train, where they were eventually murdered. This is the slaughter ghaut, and an Englishman as he stands there feels a tightening of his lips and a twittle of his fingers as he instinctively longs to avenge that foul slaughter. The Prince stayed a few hours only here, as he was due at Delhi early next morning.