One unfortunate incident marred an otherwise delightful time at Lucknow. A sham fight took place, and Sir Frederick Roberts was good enough to lend a horse to Jersey and a beautiful pony to Villiers in order that they might witness it. Villiers, boylike, tried to ride his pony up the steep bank of a nullah. It fell back with him, and he suffered what was called a “green fracture,” the bones of his forearm being bent near the wrist. They had to be straightened under chloroform. We were able to leave Lucknow two days later, but the arm rather hampered him during the rest of our journey.
Delhi was our next stopping-place, where we had a most interesting time, being entertained by the Officer Commanding, Colonel Hanna—who had during the siege been employed in helping to keep open the lines of communication so as to supply food and munitions to the troops on the Ridge. He was therefore able to show us from personal knowledge all the scenes of the fighting and relief, as well as all the well-known marvels of architecture and the glories left by the great Moghuls. His house was near the old fortifications, which I believe are now demolished for sanitary reasons, but it was then a joy to look out of the windows, and see the little golden-brown squirrels which frequented the old moat, with the two marks on their backs left by Krishna’s fingers when he caressed their progenitors.
We were thrilled by his stories of events of which he had been an eye-witness, culminating in his account of the three days during which the British troops were permitted to sack the reconquered city. My husband remarked that he would not have stopped them at the end of three days. “Yes, you would, had you been there,” said Colonel Hanna. It must be very hard to restrain men maddened by weeks of hardship and the recollection of atrocities perpetrated by their foes, if they are once let loose in the stronghold of their enemies. The troops camped on the Ridge, and losing their bravest from hour to hour seem to have had at least one advantage over the defenders of Lucknow—they did not suffer from the terrible shortage of water.
VIEW FROM THE KOTAB MINAR
Without attempting an account of all the palaces, tombs, and mosques which we saw, I must just say that nothing that I have ever seen is so impressive in its way as the view from the Kotab Minar after you have scaled the 375 steps to its tapering summit. Over the great plain are scattered the vestiges of deserted cities built by the conquerors and emperors of two thousand years, a history culminating on the Ridge of Delhi, where Queen Victoria was proclaimed Empress, and where her grandson received in person the homage of the feudatory princes and chiefs over whom he was destined to rule. Even the Campagna of Rome has not that array of skeletons of past and bygone cities actually displayed before the eyes of the beholder, each bearing the name of some ruler whose name and deeds are half remembered although his dynasty has passed away.
One of these cities is Tughlakabad, with the tomb of Tughlak and his son Juna. The latter was a horrid tyrant who maimed and ill-treated many victims. His cousin and successor Feroz seems to have been a merciful and pious ruler: he compensated the injured as far as possible and got them to write deeds of indemnity, which he placed in Juna’s tomb that the latter might present them on the day of judgment. One cannot help thinking that Feroz rather than Juna may benefit from this action at the Great Assize.
On January 12th we went to spend Saturday to Monday with Major and Mrs. Paley at Meerut. Our nephew George Wombwell was laid up at Colonel Morris’s house there with typhoid fever. He seemed to be recovering, and after making arrangements for a nurse and every attention we returned to Delhi on Monday. We were afraid to keep Villiers in a cantonment station with illness about. Alas! Jersey was summoned back a few days later, when we were at Agra, as George became worse, and died. It was very sad.
At Agra we went first to Lauri’s Hotel, but Sir John Tyler, Superintendent of the Jail, persuaded us to come and stay with him, which was really a great thing, as Villiers had by no means completely recovered from the effect of his accident, and Sir John being a surgeon was able to look after him. Needless to say we visited the famous Taj by moonlight and by day, each time finding fresh beauties. I venture to quote a sentence about it from an article which I wrote concerning India published in The Nineteenth Century, because Sir Edwin Arnold was polite enough to say that I had discovered a fault which had escaped the observation of himself and his fellows:
“The Taj, that fairy palace of a love stronger than death, sprung from sunset clouds and silvered by the moon, has but one fault—it is too perfect. Nothing is left to the imagination. There are no mysterious arches, no unfinished columns, nothing is there that seems to speak of human longing and unfulfilled aspiration; you feel that a conqueror has made Art his slave, and the work is complete; you can demand nothing more exquisite in this world.”
SEKUNDRA AND FUTTEHPORE-SEKREE