The Lucknow Residency is in a difficult state - with the exception of the museum building, the rest of the buildings are in a crumbling, some of them have disappeared altogether. However, the Residency remains on the "must see" list of visitors to Lucknow - it is difficult, however, without prior knowledge, or an adequate guide book, what the visitor is actually supposed to look at! The blog seeks to clarify the buildings (or lack there of) and provide the visitor with an interesting tour, rather than a few moments spent gazing at jumbles of rocks and poor explanations. Basing it upon my own numerous visits to the Residency and research through contemporary journals, it takes away the dry, "here is a building" aspect of most tours and allows the visitor time to reflect on the events of 1857.
The Residency grounds today, for all
their tranquility, looked very different at the start of the siege in on the
30th of June, 1857. Where there are now gardens were trenches,
stockades, palisades and mud walls. Once the mining and counter mining operations began, the grounds resembled little more than a rabbit warren. It is
difficult, in light of the champagne corks and broken crockery displayed in the
museum that there could have even really been any true hardship here. After
all, the British ended the siege (or scurried off into the night) obviously with
champagne enough in their hands. What remains today is but a fraction of the original 28
buildings and batteries – only six are reasonably intact – Dr. Fayrer’s House, the
main residency building, the banqueting hall, the treasury, Bailey Guard Gate
and Begum Kothi. A few, like Ommanney’s
House, Martiniere Post and Anderson’s Post are a little more than a few
crumbling walls and foundations. The rest have vanished.
In the place of the
racket court, indeed the entire area that should have been the Slaughter and
Sheep House batteries, there is now a thriving garden center. A few ruined
buildings, including a completely intact tower - which is now used to house
gardening implements, are visible yet covered over with a fine display of
bougainvillea and other creeping plants. Although it does provide an
interesting diversion, a garden center is hardly what one would expect in the
grounds of an archaeological site. Brick markers denote the spots of the
Slaughterhouse and the Sheep House respectively.
Many of the brick
markers, which would give a visitor some idea where a building should have
stood, are gone and it takes much imagination to even begin to see where some
structure might have stood. That smaller structures like Sago’s House, Post
Office and the outlying Saunders Post are no longer visible is hardly
surprising – the damage done to these buildings was extensive and it is likely
the resulting rubble has either been taken over by nature or carted away for
other uses. In the case of Sago’s and
Saunder’s Post, these buildings would have fallen outside the current
boundaries of the Residency compound which is smaller than then it had been
originally. I have described below some of the buildings which are not on the
site plan at the entrance.
Of Germon’s Post a few
low walls and a dark chamber under the structure still exist. Even some
decorations are still visible on the inner walls. For the confusion which is to
follow, mostly caused by the lack of markers, Germon’s Post provides valuable
orientation. From here, one can without doubt say that the ruins under current
excavation are Anderson’s Post.
What of Anderson’s Post?
Undoubtedly one of the most battered buildings during the siege due to its
close proximity to the outer walls, the remains are surprisingly intact.
Although it would be too much to say that very much besides a few walls exists,
the evidence of shell and shot are still distinct, and enough of the walls
remain to give a good outline of the building. Perhaps the excavations will
turn up some valuable finds.
Much less remains of the
Martiniere Post though the plaque dedicated to Captain Fulton and his mine is
still visible, but DePrats House has been almost completely erased. What
remains is a marker, rubble and some trench like foundations. A rather
impressive tree stands where there once would have been the centre of the
house.
Inne’s Post is somewhat
difficult to locate. Like some of its compatriots all that remains is a marker
and this is located, rather oddly, in what shall one day be a most charming
garden. It is only with some patience that one can locate the marker itself –
there are no signs pointing in that direction and visitors are most likely
never to even walk the road parallel to the churchyard. The most sensible
visitor either cuts off his visit and walks from the church yard to the
Residency building or perhaps follows the sloping road and comes to what should
have been the Redan Battery.
The church and the grave
yard have been preserved tolerably well. Very little remains of the church
itself but its base and a few walls. Many
of the graves are still intact, with some exceptions. Some bear distinct signs
of vandalism, crosses broken off, slabs removed and in the case of the Dashwood
grave, totally destroyed. The lettering on many is worn and in some cases
missing altogether. Of the 39 graves belonging directly to those who died
during the siege, 38 are still visible, 1, besides that of the Dashwood family,
is not traceable. On 10 graves the plaques are missing.
The cemetery looks
deceptively small and some of the graves relatively new. However the total
number of deaths in 5 months was terrible – according to Martin Gubbins, once
the Judicial Commissioner of Oudh and one of the besieged, the fatalities of
just the fighting force until their relief by Colin Campbell was 1’574. The cemetery has one large plot in which are
buried over 100 people. During the siege however, everyone who died on the same
day ended up in one grave and there was no time to give them all markers, nor
necessarily the inclination. The newer graves, which reach up to the 1920s,
tell a sombre story. Only members of the original garrison were permitted to be
buried in the Residency churchyard after 1858, so the burials continued for
some time after the events. The Hiltons, the Sequeiras and the Nazareths, to
name but a few were all given the honour of burial at a place which undoubtedly
gave them little joy during their lives.
The museum, housed in
the Residency building, is worth a visit. The most striking display is the miniature
model of the Residency grounds. Each building has been meticulously reproduced and
gives a good idea of the site as a whole.
The upper floor has some
very well organised copies of lithographs and pictures which are worth
studying. There is also a British room, containing among other things, 2 large
terracotta wall hangings, both dealing with the injuries sustained by Miss
Palmer and Sir Henry Lawrence. Unfortunately the artist was not very
knowledgeable on either account. The portrait of Miss Palmer in a dead faint on
the floor is fanciful and Sir Henry, was not, as the artist supposes, shot in
the heart. He too was the victim of round shot, in the region of the upper
thigh and hip. He was lying on a bed at the time and not as portrayed, seated
on a chair. These appear to be at first glance minor variations of the truth
but these were after all, real people whose deaths are well documented and the
terracotta renditions of their deaths are more fantasy than history.
It is not possible to
remain untouched by the plaque (and not the terracotta rendition) solemnly
declaring that it was here that a Miss Palmer lost her leg to round shot. But
who was Miss Palmer? The daughter of General Henry Palmer, she was 19 years
old, only recently arrived in India and engaged to a young officer. It was her
misfortune on the 1st of July 1857, to have sought shelter from the shelling in
that room and not in the tyekhanna. A shell burst in the room and a piece of it
struck her, all but severing her leg from her body. She died two days later on
the 3rd of July in excruciating pain. There is no mention of her grave– it is
probable she was laid to rest in one of the mass graves with the others who had
died that day.
A long winding staircase
brings the visitor to the lower rooms or tyekhanna. These underground chambers
had been used to shelter the resident during the sweltering summer months and
during the siege, provided protection from the shot and shell. Lofty and
spacious though they now appear to be, especially as there is ample air
conditioning provided, it would be worth the visitors while to close their eyes
and try to imagine the very same room on a hot July day, a hundred or so women
and children crowded inside, the blast and fury of the siege going on above
their very heads. They would have been seated on the floor on every available
space, some heavily pregnant, many with screaming infants and terrified
children clinging to them. For most part, they would have sat for many hours in
the dark; the only light coming through some shafts which would only have
increased their terror by transporting the sounds from the outer world with
upmost clarity. If the modern visitor
can imagine even a fraction of this while in these rooms!
On a whole a visit to
the Residency is something of a test and trial in patience but with many rewards.
There is no other place in India that so captures the events of 1857 as this
collection of buildings. For students of the subject it remains a must see. The
scars of war are still vivid upon the untouched facades, and there is a tinge
of melancholy in the air, despite the picnickers and couples. Time perhaps has
not stood entirely still here, but guided correctly, a picture begins to
emerge, the sounds of battle, the steady thump of cannon and whining of
bullets, picking at the buildings piece by piece. It is still possible to visualize actual people, not just names in a book, and not just from their
graves. Being so well documented, the Residency still retains touches of
humanity. Where better can the visitor literally step into the world of Mr.
Gubbins, Mrs. Inglis, the Martiniere boys, Germon and Anderson and stand on the
very ground they had beneath their feet for so many months? The Residency
should not be an empty tribute to facts and figures but a story of people who
wanted nothing more than to live. When the visitor starts to realise that they were
not all fighting men, they were merchants and doctors, missionaries and travelers, they were Indians and they were families with young children, each
in their own way convinced that their lives were going to come to swift and
brutal end, that the true horror of the Residency becomes apparent.
Stand on any of the
ruins and think about the words of L.E. Rutz-Rees, a Swiss merchant, who became
trapped in Lucknow by force of events. When it became evident that
reinforcements would not come for many months, Rees wrote:
“Our numbers are visibly decreasing. Besides, how do I
know whether I shall escape even before the final catastrophe, which, unless
our forces come to our aid, must take place sooner or later? How do I know I
shall not be knocked over before? That is soon done. A covering to wrap my
corpse up in, a dooly borne by sweepers to serve me as a hearse, a shallow
hole, a short prayer over it, and half a dozen other dead bodies, and the thing
is done, and no one can afterwards tell where my bones are laid.” (Rees,
p. 191)
Although this final retreat and the
end of the siege could be viewed as a victory in favor of the insurgents, it
is a lukewarm one. Nothing significant was gained, the British returned in
force to Lucknow as hastily as they had left and by March 1858 they had
regained the Residency. Yet the besieged had managed something which even in
today’s light seems impossible – against unbelievable odds, had held their own
without any help for three months, and another two with marginal
reinforcements. When we take the
politics out of Lucknow we can start to see the monument for what it is – a
lasting tribute to the endurance of mankind, regardless of race, colour or
creed. It should remind us all that no
victory is won without suffering and without faith. Whether that faith is in
God, in our selves or in luck, without it, there can be no victories.