Then we drove about a mile away to the deep ravine called the Suttee Chowra Ghât. Here were the very steps, shaded by the same peepul-tree, where the men, women, and children went down on their way to embark from the ghât on the river. They had surrendered to Nana Sahib, as will be remembered, on the condition of being transported in boats up the Ganges to Allahabad. The women and children had embarked in the open boats, and been pushed into the middle of the stream. The stone platform flanked by two archways was crowded with others. There was a cry of "Treachery!" and the soldiers of Nana Sahib, acting under his orders, opened fire. Volley after volley was fired upon the helpless occupants of each boat; a hidden battery of guns behind a tree being brought to bear upon those on the landing-stage. It became a wholesale butchery. The women and children who were captured and not massacred were taken that night to the Assembly Rooms. Here atrocities were committed such as even the page of history cannot detail, until a century has passed, and the victims and their near relations shall be laid to rest; some cannot ever be mentioned in the ears of ladies, but the world learnt then, if it never learnt before, what our sex can endure. One lady killed the native with his own sword, when he attempted, with Nana's permission, to take her away to his house. Thus they remained for upwards of a fortnight, when, at Havelock's approach, Nana Sahib ordered a general massacre at the Assembly Rooms, the "House of Massacre" as it came to be called. The natives would not hold the Europeans whilst their throats were cut, because it was against their caste, and then Nana ordered his officers to get men to cut or fire them down. One hundred were told off for the men, one hundred for the women. After incessant firing for several hours, whether on purpose or not was never known, only two were found to have been killed. At last Nana found five butchers, belonging to the Bhowrie, or lowest caste of all, who undertook the bloody slaughter. For five hours, from five till ten in the morning, they cut and slashed, till few were left. The bodies were cast into a well. This well became so full that, the water causing the bodies to swell, many rose above the surface, when branches of trees were laid across to keep them under.
It is on this awful spot that the most perfect monument, full of beauty and peace, has been so fitly erected.
In the centre of the memorial garden stands the lovely statue of Marochetti. It is a white marble figure, draped, with head downcast and eyes full of tender sorrow. The hands are crossed on the breast, each holding the palm-branch of victory, and the large curving wings are unfolded. The delicate delineation of each feather on the latter shows the perfect finish of the whole. The palm-branches rise over each shoulder, from the declivity of the wings, where they are joined behind, and in the centre there is a white marble cross, against which the figure is supposed to be leaning. The drooping attitude and the gentle expression of sorrow are very touching.
The angel figure seems to be declaring to us the inscription over the entrance, "These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes."
The carved octagonal screen, showing daylight between its delicate tracery, is worthy of the beautiful monument it surrounds and guards. The harmony of the whole is maintained by the repetition of the octagonal form. The screen is octagonal, and so are the steps which descend to the richly carved pillar. The three tiers of marble, the pedestal of the figure, are also octagonal. The purity and beauty of the memorial is completed by the inscription: "Sacred to the Perpetual Memory of a Great Company of Christian People, chiefly Women and Children, who near this spot were cruelly massacred by the Followers of the Rebel Nana, Dhoondopoor of Bithoor, and cast, the Dying with the Dead, into this well below on the 15th day of July, 1857."
The "House of Massacre" is below the slope of the memorial, and is marked by a white cross on a black marble base. The original little cross is shown inside the burial-ground, the base of which marked the well, and the cross at the top the House of Massacre—a poor but touching little memorial, "raised by twenty men of the same regiment, who were passing through Cawnpore" some time afterwards, as it tells us. The burial-ground is on the spot where two bungalows adjoining the Assembly Rooms were found, whose walls were written in blood, describing the agonies of the prisoners. They were destroyed by Havelock's soldiers, and the spot selected for the cemetery as the ground was soft for digging. It took the men four days to bury the dead. Now the spot is enclosed with a handsome railing, and it presents the appearance of a garden of tangled roses and creepers, which cover the graves. There are seventy-two mounds in all, but many of them are nameless graves; and it is known that four were often buried in one grave. Immediately opposite them is another three-cornered piece of ground railed in, where more of the mutilated remains of the women and children were collected and interred. It is a very noticeable fact that none of the dates on the memorial stones of the "Mutiny" agree. They vary in fixing it as breaking out on the 15th, 17th, or 18th of June. The garden, which is really part of the old Assembly Garden, is beautifully kept. Broad carriage-drives lead down the palm-avenues, and amongst the bright masses of flower-beds.
We left Cawnpore at six o'clock. Half an hour after midnight we had to change carriages at Tundla Junction, and we arrived at Agra at the ghastly hour of two in the Morning. As I sat in the gharry outside the station, waiting for C. with the luggage to appear, for the natives were half asleep at that late hour, I could see the red battlements of the fort rising opposite against the half-moonlit sky.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE CITIES OF THE GREAT MOGUL.
Monday, January 25th.—Agra is essentially the city of Akbar, the great Mogul. Founded and created by him in 1506, it had no previously known history. Here he established his metropolis—his palace within the fort. One looks forward to seeing some of the splendour with which we have always learnt to associate the name of the greatest of ancient emperors, save only Alexander the Great. Nor ought one to be disappointed.