Chapter 25…

Chapter 25

=Leaving Udaipur.=—October 11, 1819.—Two years had nearly sped since we entered the valley of Udaipur, the most diversified and most romantic spot on the continent of India. In all this time none of us had penetrated beyond the rocky barrier which formed the limit of our horizon, affording the vision a sweep of six miles radius. Each hill and dale, tower and tree, had become familiar to us; every altar, cenotaph, and shrine had furnished its legend, till tradition was exhausted. The ruins were explored, their inscriptions deciphered, each fantastic pinnacle had a name, and the most remarkable chieftains and servants of the court had epithets assigned to them, expressive of some quality or characteristic. We had our ‘Red Reaver,’ our ‘Roderic Dhu,’ and a ‘Falstaff,’ at the court; our ‘Catalani,’ our ‘Vestris,’ in the song or the ballet. We had our palace in the city, our cutter on the lake, our villa in the woods, our fairy-islands in the waters; streams to angle in, deer to [654] shoot, much, in short, to please the eye and gratify the taste:—yet did ennui intrude, and all panted to escape from the “happy valley,” to see what was in the world beyond the mountains. In all these twenty moons, the gigantic portals of Debari, which guard the entrance of the Girwa,[4.25.1] had not once creaked on their hinges for our egress; and though from incessant occupation I had wherewithal to lessen the taedium vitae, my companions not having such resources, it was in vain that, like the sage Imlac, I urged them not to feel dull in this “blissful captivity”: the scenery had become hideous, and I verily believe had there been any pinion-maker in the capital of the Sesodias, they would have essayed a flight, though it might have terminated in the lake. Never did Rasselas sigh more for escape. At length the day arrived, and although the change was to be from all that constitutes the enchantments of vision, from wood and water, dale and mountain, verdure and foliage, to the sterile plains of the sandy desert of Marwar, it was sufficient that it was change. Our party was composed of Captain Waugh, Lieutenant Carey, and Dr. Duncan, with the whole of the escort, consisting of two companies of foot and sixty of Skinner’s Horse, all alike delighted to quit the valley where each had suffered more or less from the prevalent fevers of the monsoon, during which the valley is peculiarly unhealthy, especially to foreigners, when the wells and reservoirs overflow from the springs which break in, impregnated with putrid vegetation and mineral poisons, covering the surface with a bluish oily fluid. The art of filtrating water to free it from impurities is unknown to the Rajputs, and with some shame I record that we did not make them wiser, though they are not strangers to the more simple process, adopted throughout the desert, of using potash and alum; the former to neutralize the salt and render the water more fit for culinary purposes; the latter to throw down the impurities held suspended. They also use an alkaline nut in washing, which by simply steeping emits a froth which is a good substitute for soap.[4.25.2]

On the 12th October, at five A.M., our trumpet sounded to horse, and we were not slow in obeying the summons; the “yellow boys” with their old native commandant looking even more cheerful than usual as we joined them. Skinner’s Horse[4.25.3] wear a jamah or tunic of yellow broadcloth, with scarlet turbans and cincture. Who [655] does not know that James Skinner’s men are the most orderly in the Company’s service, and that in every other qualification constituting the efficient soldier, they are second to none? On another signal which reverberated from the palace, where the drums announced that the descendant of Surya was no sluggard, we moved on through the yet silent capital towards the gate of the sun, where we found drawn up the quotas of Bhindar, Delwara, Amet, and Bansi, sent as an honorary guard by the Rana, to escort us to the frontiers. As they would have been an incumbrance to me and an inconvenience to the country, from their laxity of discipline, after chatting with their leader, during a sociable ride, I dismissed them at the pass, with my respects to the Rana and their several chieftains. We reached the camp before eight o’clock, the distance being only thirteen miles. The spot chosen (and where I afterwards built a residence) was a rising ground between the villages of Merta and Tus, sprinkled with trees, and for a space of four miles clear of the belt of forest which fringes the granite barriers of the valley. It commanded an entire view of the plains in the direction of Chitor, still covered, excepting a patch of cultivation here and there, with jungle. The tiger-mount, its preserves of game, and the mouldering hunting-seats of the Rana and his chieftains, were three miles to the north; to the south, a mile distant, we had the Berach River, abounding in trout; and the noble lake whence it issues, called after its founder the Udai Sagar, was not more than three to the west. For several reasons it was deemed advisable to choose a spot out of the valley; the health of the party, though not an unimportant, was not a principal motive for choosing such a distance from the court. The wretchedness in which we found it rendered a certain degree of interference requisite, and it was necessary that they should shake this off, in order to preserve their independence. It was dreaded lest the aid requested by the Rana, from the peculiar circumstances on our first going amongst them, might be construed as a precedent for the intrusion of advice on after occasions. The distance between the court and the agent of the British Government was calculated to diminish this impression, and obliged them also to trust to their own resources, after the machine was once set in motion. On the heights of Tus our tents were pitched, the escort paraded, and St. George’s flag displayed. Here camels, almost wild, were fitted for the first time with the pack-saddle, lamenting in discordant gutturals the [656] hardship of their fate, though luckily ignorant of the difference between grazing whither they listed in the happy valley, and carrying a load in “the region of death,” where they would only find the thorny mimosa or prickly phog[4.25.4] to satisfy their hunger.

=Pallāna.=—October 13.—There being no greater trial of patience than the preparations for a march after a long halt, we left the camp at daybreak amidst the most discordant yells from the throats of a hundred camels, which drowned every attempt to be heard, while the elephants squeaked their delight in that peculiar treble which they emit when happy. There was one little fellow enjoying himself free from all restraints of curbs or pack-saddles, and inserting his proboscis into the sepoy’s baggage, whence he would extract a bag of flour, and move off, pursued by the owner; which was sure to produce shouts of mirth to add to the discord. This little representative of Ganesa was only eight years old, and not more than twelve hands high. He was a most agreeable pet, though the proofs he gave of his wisdom in trusting himself amidst the men when cooking their dinners, were sometimes disagreeable to them, but infinitely amusing to those who watched his actions. The rains having broken up unusually late, we found the boggy ground, on which we had to march, totally unable to bear the pressure of loaded cattle; even the ridges, which just showed their crests of quartz above the surface, were not safe. Our route was over a fine plain well wooded and watered, soil excellent, and studded with numerous large villages; yet all presenting uniformly the effects of warfare and rapine. The landscape, rendered the more interesting by our long incarceration in the valley, was abstractedly pleasing. On our left lay the mountains enclosing the capital, on one of whose elevated peaks are the ruins of Ratakot, overlooking all around; while to the east the eye might in vain seek for a boundary. We passed Deopur, once a township of some consequence, and forming part of the domain of the Bhanej,[4.25.5] Zalim Singh, the heir of Marwar, whose history, if it could be given here, would redeem the nobles of Rajputana from the charge of being of uncultivated intellect. In listening to [657] his biography, both time and place were unheeded; the narrator, my own venerable Guru,[4.25.6] had imbibed much of his varied knowledge from this accomplished chieftain, to whom arms and letters were alike familiar. He was the son of Raja Bijai Singh and a princess of Mewar: but domestic quarrels made it necessary to abandon the paternal for the maternal mansion, and a domain was assigned by the Rana, which put him on a footing with his own children. Without neglecting any of the martial amusements and exercises of the Rajput, he gave up all those hours, generally devoted to idleness, to the cultivation of letters. He was versed in philosophical theology, astronomy, and the history of his country; and in every branch of poesy, from the sacred canticles of Jayadeva to the couplets of the modern bard, he was an adept. He composed and improvised with facility, and his residence was the rendezvous for every bard of fame. That my respected tutor did not overrate his acquirements, I had the best proof in his own, for all which (and he rated them at an immeasurable distance compared with the subject of his eulogy) he held himself indebted to the heir of Marwar, who was at length slain in asserting his right to the throne in the desert.

=Rām Singh and the Rāja of Narsinghgarh. The Oswāl Mahājans.=—After a four hours’ march, picking our way amidst swamps and treacherous bogs, we reached the advanced tents at Pallana. Like Deopur, it presented the spectacle of a ruin, a corner of which held all its inhabitants; the remains of temples and private edifices showed what it had once been. Both towns formerly belonged to the fisc of the Rana, who, with his usual improvidence, on the death of his nephew included them in the grant to the temple of Kanhaiya. I found at my tents the minister’s right hand, Ram Singh Mehta; Manikchand, the Diwan or factotum of the chieftain of Bhindar; and the ex-Raja of Narsinghgarh, now an exile at Udaipur.[4.25.7] The first was a fine specimen of the non-militant class of these countries, and although he had seldom passed the boundaries of Mewar, no country could produce a better specimen of a courteous gentleman: his figure tall, deportment easy, features regular and handsome, complexion fair, with a fine slightly-curled beard and mustachios jet black. Ram Singh, without being conceited, is aware that nature has been indulgent to him, and without any foppery he pays great attention to externals. He is always elegantly attired, and varies with good taste the colours of his turban and ceinture, though his loose tunics are always white; the aroma of the itr is the only mark of the dandy about him: and this forms no criterion [658], as our red coats attest, which receive a sprinkling at every visit. With his dagger and pendent tassel, and the balaband or purple cordon (the Rana’s gift) round his turban, behold the servant “whom the king delighteth to honour.” As he has to support himself by paying court to the Rana’s sister, the queens, and other fair influentials behind the curtain, his personal attraits are no slight auxiliaries. He is of the Jain faith, and of the tribe of Osi, which now reckons one hundred thousand families, all of Rajput origin, and descendants of the Agnikula stock. They proselytized in remote antiquity, and settling at the town of Osi in Marwar, retain this designation, or the still more common one of Oswal. It was from the Pramara and Solanki branches of the Agnikula race that these assumed the doctrines of Buddha or Jaina: not however from the ranks of the Brahmans, but, as I firmly believe, from that faith, whatever it was, which these Scythic or Takshak tribes brought from beyond the Indus. In like manner we found the Chauhan (also an Agnikula) regenerated by the Brahmans on Mount Abu; while the fourth tribe, the Parihara (ancient sovereigns of Kashmir), have left traces in the monuments of their capital, Mandor, that they espoused the then prevailing faith of Rajasthan, namely, that of Buddha.[4.25.8]

=Mānikchand.=—Manikchand, also of the Jain faith, but of a different tribe (the Sambhari), was in all the reverse of Ram Singh. He was tall, thin, rather bent, and of swarthy complexion, and his tongue and his beads were in perpetual motion. He had mixed in all the intrigues of the last quarter of a century, and, setting Zalim Singh of Kotah aside, had more influenced events than any individual now alive. He was the organ of the Saktawats, and the steward and counsellor of the head of this clan, the Bhindar chief; and being accordingly the irreconcilable foe of the Chondawats, had employed all the resources of his talents and his credit to effect their humiliation. To this end, he has leagued with Sindis, Pathans, and Mahrattas, and would not have scrupled to coalesce with his Satanic Majesty, could he thereby have advanced their revenge: in pursuance of which he has been detained in confinement as a hostage, put to torture from inability to furnish the funds he would unhesitatingly promise for aid, and all the while sure of death if he fell into the hands of his political antagonists. His talent and general information made him always a welcome guest: which was wormwood to the Chondawats, who laid claim to a monopoly of patriotism, and stigmatized the Saktawats as the destroyers [659] of Mewar, though in truth both were equally blind to her interests in their contests for supremacy. He was now beyond fifty, and appeared much older; but was cheerful, good-humoured, and conversant in all the varied occurrences of the times. He at length completely established himself in the Rana’s good graces, who gave his elder son a confidential employment. Had he lived, he would have been conspicuous, for he had all the talent of his father, with the personal adjuncts possessed by Ram Singh; but being sensitive and proud, he swallowed poison, in consequence it was said of the severity of an undeserved rebuke from his father, and died generally regretted. I may here relate the end of poor Manika. It was on the ground we had just quitted that he visited me for the last time, on my return from the journey just commenced. He had obtained the contract for the whole transit duties of the State, at the rate of 250,000 rupees per annum. Whether from the corruption of his numerous deputy collectors, his own cupidity, or negligence, he professed his inability to fulfil the contract by nearly a sixth of the amount, though from his talents and promises, a perfect establishment of this important department, which had been taken from others on his account, was expected. It was difficult to judge charitably of his assertions, without giving occasion to his enemies to put a wrong construction on the motives. He pitched his tent near me, and requested an interview. He looked very disconsolate, and remarked, that he had seven several times left his tent, and as often turned back, the bird of omen having each time passed him on the adverse side; but that at length he had determined to disregard it, as having forfeited confidence, he was indifferent to the future. He admitted the profligacy of his inferiors, whom he had not sufficiently superintended, and took his leave, promising by assiduity to redeem his engagements, though his past character for intrigue made his asseverations doubtful. Again failing to make good his promises, or, as was surmised, having applied the funds to his own estate, he took saran with the Raja of Shahpura; where, mortified in all probability by the reflection of the exultation of his rivals over his disgrace, and having lost the confidence of his own chief when he obtained that of the Rana, he had recourse to the usual expedient of these countries when “perplexed in the extreme,”—took poison and died.

=The Rāja of Narsinghgarh.=—The last of the trio of visitors on this occasion, the Raja of Narsinghgarh, is now, as before stated, in exile. He is of the tribe of Umat, one of thirty-six divisions [660] of the Pramaras,[4.25.9] settled during fifteen generations in Central India, and giving the name of Umatwara to the petty sovereignty of which Narsinghgarh is the capital. Placed in the very heart of the predatory hordes, the Pindaris and Mahrattas occupied almost every village that owned their sway, and compelled him to the degradation of living under Holkar’s orange standard, which waved over the battlements of his abode. To one or other of the great Mahratta leaders, Sindhia and Holkar, all the petty princes were made tributary dependents, and Umatwara had early acknowledged Holkar, paying the annual sum of eighty thousand rupees: but this vassalage did not secure the Raja from the ravages of the other spoliators, nor from the rapacity of the myrmidons of his immediate lord paramount. In 1817, when these countries, for the first time in many centuries, tasted the blessings of peace, Umatwara was, like Mewar, a mass of ruins, its fertile lands being overgrown with the thorny mimosa or the useful kesula. The Raja partook of the demoralization around him; he sought refuge in opium and arak from his miseries, and was totally unfitted to aid in the work of redemption when happier days shone upon them. His son Chain Singh contrived to escape these snares, and was found in every respect competent to cooperate in the work of renovation, and through the intervention of the British agent (Major Henley), an arrangement was effected by which the Raja retired on a stipend and the son carried on the duties of government in his name.[4.25.10]

It was unfortunate for these ancient races, that on the fortunate occasion presented in 1817-18, when both Sindhia and Holkar aimed at the overthrow of our power (the one treacherously cloaking his views, the other disclosing them in the field), our policy did not readily grasp it, to rescue all these States from ruin and dependence. Unfortunately, their peculiar history was little known, or it would have been easily perceived that they presented the exact materials we required between us and the entire occupation of the country. But there was then a strong notion afloat of a species of balance of power, and it was imagined that these demoralized and often humiliated Mahrattas were the fittest materials to throw into the scale—against I know not what, except ourselves: for assuredly the day of our reverses will be a jubilee to them, and will level every spear that they can bring against our existence. They would merit contempt if they acted [661] otherwise. Can they cease to remember that the orange flag which waved in triumph from the Sutlej to the Kistna has been replaced by the cross of St. George? But the snake which flutters in tortuous folds thereon, fitting crest for the wily Mahratta, is only scathed, and may yet call forth the lance of the red cross knight to give the coup de grace.[4.25.11] Let it then be remembered that, both as regards good policy and justice, we owe to these States—independence.

To what does our interference with Umatwara tend, but to realize the tribute of Holkar; to fix a millstone round their necks, which, notwithstanding the comparative happiness they enjoy, will keep them always repining, and to secure which will make our interference eternal. Had a due advantage been taken of the hostilities in 1817, it might have obviated these evils by sending the predatory sovereign of half a century’s duration to a more restricted sphere. It may be said that it is easy to devise plans years after the events which immediately called for them: these not only were mine at the time, but were suggested to the proper authorities; and I am still disposed to think my views correct.

After chatting some time with the two chiefs described, and presenting them with itr and pan,[4.25.12] they took leave.

=Nāthdwāra.=—October 14.—Marched at daybreak, and found the route almost impracticable for camels, from the swampy nature of the soil. The country is much broken with irregular low ridges of micaceous schist, in the shape of a chine or hog’s back, the crest of which has throughout all its length a vein of quartz piercing the slate, and resembling a back-bone; the direction of these veins is uniformly N.N.E., and the inclination about 75° to the east. Crossed the Nathdwara ridge, about four hundred feet in height, and, like the hills encircling the valley, composed of a brown granite intersected with protruding veins of quartz, incumbent on blue compact slate. The ascent was a mile and a half east of the town, and on the summit, which is table-land, there are two small lakes, whence water-courses conduct streams on each side of the road to supply the temple and the town. There are noble trees planted on either side of these rivulets, forming a delightful shade. As we passed through the town to our encampment on the [662] opposite side of the Banas River, the inhabitants crowded the streets, shouting their grateful acknowledgments to the power which had redeemed the sacred precincts of Kanhaiya from the scenes of turpitude amidst which they had grown up. They were all looking forward with much pleasure to the approaching festival of Annakuta.

October 15.—Halted to allow the baggage to join, which, partly from the swamps and partly from the intractable temper of the cattle, we have not seen since we parted company at Merta. Received a visit from the Mukhya of the temple, accompanied by a pilgrim in the person of a rich banker of Surat. A splendid quilted cloak of gold brocade, a blue scarf with a deep border of gold, and an embroidered band for the head, were brought to me as the gift of the god through his high-priest, in testimony of my zeal. I was also honoured with a tray of the sacred food, which consisted of all the dried fruits, spices, and aromatics of the East. In the evening I had a portion of the afternoon repast, consisting of a preparation of milk; but the days of simplicity are gone, and the Apollo of Vraj has his curds adulterated with rose-water and amber. Perhaps, with the exception of Lodi, where is fabricated the far-famed Parmesan, whose pastures maintain forty thousand kine, there is no other place known which possesses more than the city of the Hindu Apollo, though but a tenth of that of Lodi. But from the four thousand cows, the expenditure of milk and butter for the votaries of Kanhaiya may be judged. I was entertained with the opinions of the old banker on the miraculous and oracular power of the god of Nathdwara. He had just been permitted to prostrate himself before the car which conveyed the deity from the Yamuna, and held forth on the impiety of the age, in withholding the transmission of the miraculous wheels from heaven, which in former days came once in six months. The most devout alone are permitted to worship the chariot of Kanhaiya. The garments which decorate his representative are changed several times a day, to imitate the different stages of his existence, from the youthful Bala to the conqueror of Kansa; or, as the Surat devotee said in broken English, “Oh, sir, he be much great god; he first of all; and he change from de balak, or child, to de fierce chief, with de bow and arrow a hees hands”; while the old Mukhya, whose office it is to perambulate the whole continent of India as one of the couriers of Kanhaiya, lifted up his eyes as he ejaculated, “Sri Krishna! Sri Krishna!” I gave him a paper [663] addressed to all officers of the British Government who might pass through the lands of the church, recommending the protection of the peacocks and pipal trees, and to forbear polluting the precincts of the god with the blood of animals. To avoid offending against their prejudices in this particular, I crossed the river, and killed our fowls within our own sanctuary, and afterwards concealed the murder by burying the feathers.

=Sagacity of Elephants. Usarwās.=—October 16.—There is nothing so painful as sitting down inactive when the mind is bent upon an object. Our escort was yet labouring in the swamps, and as we could not be worse off than we were, we deemed it better to advance, and accordingly decamped in the afternoon, sending on a tent to Usarwas; but though the distance was only eight miles we were benighted, and had the comfort to find old Fateh, “the victorious,” floundering with his load in a bog, out of which he was picking his way in a desperate rage. It is generally the driver’s fault when such an accident occurs: for if there be but a foot’s breadth of sound footing, so sensible is the animal, that he is sure to avoid danger if left to his own discretion and the free use of his proboscis, with which he thumps the ground as he cautiously proceeds step by step, giving signals to his keeper of the safety or the reverse of advancing, as clearly as if he spoke. Fateh’s signals had been disregarded, and he was accordingly in a great passion at finding himself abused, and kept from his cakes and butter, of which he had always thirty pounds’ weight at sunset. The sagacity of the elephant is well known, and was in no instance better displayed than in the predicament above described. I have seen the huge monster in a position which to him must have been appalling; but, with an instinctive reliance on others, he awaited in tolerable patience the arrival of materials for his extrication, in the shape of fascines and logs of wood, which being thrown to him, he placed deliberately in front, and making a stout resistance with head, teeth, and foot, pressing the wood, he brought up one leg after the other in a most methodical and pioneer-like manner, till he delivered himself from his miry prison. Fateh did not require such aid; but, aware that the fault was not his, he soon indignantly shook the load off his back, and left them to get it out in any manner they chose.

=Wolves.=—Waited to aid in reloading, and it being already dusk, pushed on with my dog Belle, who, observing a couple of animals, darted off into the jungles, and led me after her as fast as the devious paths in such a savage scene would permit. But I [664] soon saw her scampering down the height, the game, in the shape of two huge wolves, close at her heels, and delighted to find rescue at hand. I have no doubt their retreat from my favourite greyhound was a mere ruse de guerre to lead her beyond supporting distance, and they had nearly effected their object: they went off in a very sulky and leisurely manner. In my subaltern days, when with the subsidiary force in Gohad, I remember scouring the tremendous ravines near the Antri Pass to get a spear at a wolf, my companion (Lieut. now Lieut.-Col. T. D. Smith) and myself were soon surrounded by many scores of these hungry animals, who prowled about our camp all night, having carried off a child the night before. As we charged in one direction, they gave way; but kept upon our quarters without the least fear, and seemingly enjoyed the fun. I do not recollect whether it excited any other feeling than mirth. They showed no symptom of ferocity, or desire to make a meal of us; or a retreat from these ravines, with their superior topographical knowledge, would doubtless have been difficult.

=The Banās River. The Fairy Gift Legend.=—We passed the Banas River, just escaping from the rock-bound barriers, our path almost in contact with the water to the left. The stream was clear as crystal, and of great depth; the banks low and verdant, and fringed with wood. It was a lovely, lonely spot, and well deserved to be consecrated by legendary tale. In ancient times, ere these valleys were trod by the infidel Tatar, coco-nuts were here presented to the genius of the river, whose arm appeared above the waters to receive them; but ever since some unhallowed hand threw a stone in lieu of a coco-nut, the arm has been withdrawn.[4.25.13] Few in fact lived, either to supply or keep alive the traditions which lend a charm to a journey through these wild scenes, though full of bogs and wolves. We reached our journey’s end very late, and though no tents were up, we had the consolation to spy the cook in a snug corner with a leg of mutton before some blazing logs, round which he had placed the wall of a tent to check the force of the mountain air. We all congregated round the cook’s fire, and were infinitely happier in the prospect before us, and with the heavens for our canopy, than with all our accustomed conveniences and fare. Every one this day had taken his own road, and each had his adventure to relate. Our repast was delicious; nor did any favourable account reach us of tents or other luxuries to mar our enjoyments, till midnight, when the fly of the doctor’s tent arrived, of which we availed ourselves as a protection against the heavy dews of [665] the night; and though our bivouac was in a ploughed field, and we were surrounded by wild beasts in a silent waste, they proved no drawbacks to the enjoyment of repose.

Halted the 17th, to collect the dislocated baggage; for although such scenes, seasoned with romance, might do very well for us, our followers were ignorant of the name of Ann Radcliffe or other conjurers; and though admirers of tradition, like myself, preferred it after dinner. Usarwas is a valuable village, but now thinly inhabited. It was recently given by the Rana, with his accustomed want of reflection, to a Charan bard, literally for an old song. But even this folly was surpassed on his bestowing the township of Sesoda,[4.25.14] in the valley in advance, the place from which his tribe takes its appellation, on another of the fraternity, named Kishna, his master bard, who has the art to make his royal patron believe that opportunity alone is wanting to render his name as famed as that of the illustrious Sanga, or the immortal Partap. I received and returned the visit of an ascetic Sannyasi, whose hermitage was perched upon a cliff not far from our tents. Like most of his brethren, he was intelligent, and had a considerable store of local and foreign legends at command. He was dressed in a loose orange-coloured anga or tunic, with a turban of the same material, in which was twisted a necklace of the lotus-kernel;[4.25.15] he had another in his hand, with which he repeated the name of the deity at intervals. He expressed his own surprise and the sentiments of the inhabitants at the tranquillity they enjoyed, without any tumultuary cause being discoverable; and said that we must be something more than human. This superstitious feeling for a while was felt as well by the prince and the turbulent chief, as by the anchorite of Usarwas.

=Samecha.=—October 18.—Marched at daybreak to Samecha, distance twelve miles. Again found our advanced elephant and breakfast-tent in a swamp: halted to extricate him from his difficulties. The road from Nathdwara is but a footpath, over or skirting a succession of low broken ridges, covered with prickly shrubs, as the Khair, the Karil, and Babul.[4.25.16] At the village of Gaon Gura, midway in the morning’s journey, we entered the alpine valley called the Shera Nala. The village of Gura is placed in the opening or break in the range through which the river flows, whose serpentine meanderings indicate the only road up this majestic valley. On the banks, or in its bed, which we frequently crossed, lay [666] the remainder of this day’s march. The valley varies in breadth, but is seldom less than half a mile, the hills rising boldly from their base; some with a fine and even surface covered with mango trees, others lifting their splintered pinnacles into the clouds. Nature has been lavish of her beauties to this romantic region. The gular or wild fig, the sitaphal or custard-apple, the peach or aru badam (almond-peach),[4.25.17] are indigenous and abundant; the banks of the stream are shaded by the withy, while the large trees, the useful mango and picturesque tamarind, the sacred pipal and bar, are abundantly scattered with many others, throughout. Nor has nature in vain appealed to human industry and ingenuity to second her intents.

=Terrace Cultivation.=—From the margin of the stream on each side to the mountain’s base they have constructed a series of terraces rising over each other, whence by simple and ingenious methods they raise the waters to irrigate the rich crops of sugar-cane, cotton, and rice, which they cultivate upon them. Here we have a proof that ingenuity is the same, when prompted by necessity, in the Jura or the Aravalli. Wherever soil could be found, or time decomposed these primitive rocks, a barrier was raised. When discovered, should it be in a hollow below, or on the summit of a crag, it is alike greedily seized on: even there water is found, and if you leave the path below and ascend a hundred feet above the terraces, you will discover pools or reservoirs dammed in with massive trees, which serve to irrigate such insulated spots, or serve as nurseries to the young rice-plants. Not unfrequently, their labour is entirely destroyed, and the dykes swept away by the periodical inundations; for we observed the high-water mark in the trees considerably up the acclivity. The rice crop was abundant, and the juar [millet] or maize was thriving, but scanty; the standard autumnal crop which preceded it, the makai, or ‘Indian corn,’ had been entirely devoured by the locust. The sugar-cane, by far the most valuable product of this curious region, was very fine but sparingly cultivated, from the dread of this insect, which for the last three years had ravaged the valley. There are two species of locusts, which come in clouds, darkening the air, from the desert: the pharka and the tiri are their names;[4.25.18] the first is the great enemy of our incipient prosperity. I observed a colony some time ago proceeding eastward with a rustling, rushing sound, like a distant torrent, or the wind in a forest at the fall of the leaf. We have thus to struggle against natural and artificial obstacles to the rising energies of the country; and dread of the pharkas deters speculators [667] from renting this fertile tract, which almost entirely belongs to the fisc. Its natural fertility cannot be better demonstrated than in recording the success of an experiment, which produced five crops, from the same piece of ground, within thirteen months. It must, however, be understood that two of these are species of millet, which are cut in six weeks from the time of sowing. A patch of ground, for which the cultivator pays six rupees rent, will produce sugar-cane six hundred rupees in value: but the labour and expense of cultivation are heavy, and cupidity too often deprives the husbandman of the greater share of the fruits, ninety rupees having been taken in arbitrary taxes, besides his original rent.

The air of this elevated region gave vigour to the limbs, and appetite to the disordered stomach. There was an exhilarating fraîcheur, which made us quite frantic; the transition being from 96° of Fahrenheit to English summer heat. We breakfasted in a verdant spot under the shade of a noble fig-tree fanned by the cool breezes from the mountains.

=Samecha Town. Rājpūt Bhūmias.=—Samecha consists of three separate hamlets, each of about one hundred houses. It is situated at the base of a mountain distinctively termed Rana Pag, from a well-known path, by which the Ranas secured their retreat to the upland wilds when hard pushed by the Moguls. It also leads direct to the capital of the district, avoiding the circuitous route we were pursuing. Samecha is occupied by the Kumbhawats, descendants of Rana Kumbha, who came in a body with their elders at their head to visit me, bringing the famed kakri[4.25.19] of the valley (often three feet in length), curds, and a kid as gifts. I rose to receive these Rajaputras, the Bhumias or yeomen of the valley; and though undistinguishable in dress from the commonest cultivator, I did homage to their descent. Indeed, they did not require the auxiliaries of dress, their appearance being so striking as to draw forth the spontaneous exclamation from my friends, “what noble-looking fellows!” Their tall and robust figures, sharp aquiline features, and flowing beards, with a native dignity of demeanour (though excepting their chiefs, who wore turbans and scarfs, they were in their usual labouring dresses, immense loose breeches and turbans), compelled respect and admiration. Formerly they gave one hundred matchlocks for garrison duty at Kumbhalmer; but the Mahrattas have pillaged and impoverished them. These are the real allodial tenants of the land, performing personal local service, and paying an annual quit-rent. I conciliated their good opinion by [668] talking of the deeds of old days, the recollection of which a Rajput never outlives. The assembly under the fig-tree was truly picturesque, and would have furnished a good subject for Gerard Dow. Our baggage joined us at Samecha; but many of our camels were already worn out by labouring through swamps, for which they are by nature incapacitated.

October 19.—Marched to Kelwara, the capital of this mountainous region, and the abode of the Ranas when driven from Chitor and the plains of the Banas; on which occasion these valleys received and maintained a great portion of the population of Mewar. There is not a rock or a stream that has not some legend attached to it, connected with these times. The valley presents the same features as already described. Passed a cleft in the mountain on the left, through which a stream rushes, called the “elephant’s pool”; a short cut may be made by the foot passenger to Kelwara, but it is too intricate for any unaccustomed to these wilds to venture. We could not ascertain the origin of the “elephant’s pool,” but it is most likely connected with ancient warfare. Passed the village of Murcha, held by a Rathor chieftain. On the margin of a small lake adjoining the village, a small and very neat sacrificial altar attracted my regard; and not satisfied with the reply that it was sati ka makan, ‘the place of faith,’ I sent to request the attendance of the village seer. It proved to be that of the ancestor of the occupant: a proof of devotion to her husband, who had fallen in the wars waged by Aurangzeb against this country; when, with a relic of her lord, she mounted the pyre. He is sculptured on horseback, with lance at rest, to denote that it is no churl to whom the record is devoted.

Near the “elephant’s pool,” and at the village of Kherli, two roads diverge: one, by the Bargula nal or pass, conducts direct to Nathdwara; the other, leading to Rincher, and the celebrated shrine of the four-armed god,[4.25.20] famed as a place of pilgrimage. The range on our left terminating abruptly, we turned by Uladar to Kelwara, and encamped in a mango-grove, on a tableland half a mile north of the town. Here the valley enlarges, presenting a wild, picturesque, and rugged appearance. The barometer indicated about a thousand feet of elevation above the level of Udaipur, which is about two thousand above the sea: yet we were scarcely above the base of the alpine cliffs which towered around us on all sides. It was the point of divergence for the waters, which, from the numerous fountains in [669] these uplands, descended each declivity, to refresh the arid plains of Marwar to the west, and to swell the lakes of Mewar to the east. Previous to the damming of the stream which forms that little ocean, the Kankroli lake, it is asserted that the supply to the west was very scanty, nearly all flowing eastward, or through the valley; but since the formation of the lake, and consequent saturation of the intermediate region, the streams are ever flowing to the west. The spot where I encamped was at least five hundred feet lower than Aret pol, the first of the fortified barriers leading to Kumbhalmer, whose citadel rose more than seven hundred feet above the terre-pleine of its outworks beneath.

=Kūmbhalmer Fort. Mahārāja Daulat Singh.=—The Maharaja Daulat Singh, a near relative of the Rana, and governor of Kumbhalmer, attended by a numerous suite, the crimson standard, trumpets, kettledrums, seneschal, and bard, advanced several miles to meet and conduct me to the castle. According to etiquette, we both dismounted and embraced, and afterwards rode together conversing on the affairs of the province, and the generally altered condition of the country. Daulat Singh, being of the immediate kin of his sovereign, is one of the Babas or infants of Mewar, enumerated in the tribe called Ranawat, with the title of Maharaja. Setting aside the family of Sheodan Singh, he is the next in succession to the reigning family. He is one of the few over whom the general demoralization has had no power, and remains a simple-minded straightforward honest man; blunt, unassuming, and courteous. His rank and character particularly qualify him for the post he holds on this western frontier, which is the key to Marwar. It was in February 1818 that I obtained possession of this place (Kumbhalmer), by negotiating the arrears of the garrison. Gold is the cheapest, surest, and most expeditious of all generals in the East, amongst such mercenaries as we had to deal with, who change masters with the same facility as they would their turban. In twenty-four hours we were put in possession of the fort, and as we had not above one-third of the stipulated sum in ready cash, they without hesitation took a bill of exchange, written on the drum-head, on the mercantile town of Pali in Marwar: in such estimation is British faith held, even by the most lawless tribes of India! Next morning we saw them winding down the western declivity, while we quietly took our breakfast in an old ruined temple. During this agreeable employment, we were joined by Major Macleod, of the artillery, sent by General Donkin to report on the facilities of reducing the place by siege, and [670] his opinion being, that a gun could not be placed in position in less than six weeks, the grilling spared the European force in such a region was well worth the £4000 of arrears. My own escort and party remained in possession for a week, until the Rana sent his garrison. During these eight days our time was amply occupied in sketching and deciphering the monumental records of this singularly diversified spot. It would be vain to attempt describing the intricacies of approach to this far-famed abode, whose exterior is delineated by the pencil. A massive wall, with numerous towers and pierced battlements, having a strong resemblance to the Etruscan, encloses a space of some miles extent below, while the pinnacle or sikhara rises, like the crown of the Hindu Cybele, tier above tier of battlements, to the summit, which is crowned with the Badal Mahall, or ‘cloud-palace’ of the Ranas. Thence the eye ranges over the sandy deserts and the chaotic mass of mountains, which are on all sides covered with the cactus, which luxuriates amidst the rocks of the Aravalli. Besides the Aret[4.25.21] pol, or barrier thrown across the first narrow ascent, about one mile from Kelwara, there is a second called the Halla[4.25.22] pol, intermediate to the Hanuman[4.25.23] pol, the exterior gate of the fortress, between which and the summit there are three more, viz. the gate of victory, the sanguinary gate, and that of Rama, besides the last, or Chaugan[4.25.24] pol. The barometer stood, at half-past seven A.M., 26° 65´; thermometer 58° Fahr. at the Aret pol: and on the summit at nine, while the thermometer rose to 75°, the barometer had only descended 15´, and stood at 26° 50´,[4.25.25] though we had ascended full six hundred feet.

=A Jain Temple.=—Admitting the last range as our guide, the peak of Kumbhalmer will be 3353[4.25.26] feet above the level of the ocean. Hence I laid down the positions of many towns far in the desert. Here were subjects to occupy the pencil at least for a month; but we had only time for one of the most interesting views, the Jain temple before the reader, and a sketch of the fortress itself, both finished on the spot. The design of this temple is truly classic. It consists only of the sanctuary, which has a vaulted dome and colonnaded portico all round. The architecture is undoubtedly Jain, which is as distinct in character from the Brahmanical as their religion. There is a chasteness and simplicity in this specimen of monotheistic worship, affording a wide contrast to the elaborately sculptured shrines of the Saivas, and [671] other polytheists of India. The extreme want of decoration best attests its antiquity, entitling us to attribute it to that period when Samprati Raja, of the family of Chandragupta, was paramount sovereign over all these regions (two hundred years before Christ);[4.25.27] to whom tradition ascribes the most ancient monuments of this faith, yet existing in Rajasthan and Saurashtra. The proportions and forms of the columns are especially distinct from the other temples, being slight and tapering instead of massive, the general characteristic of Hindu architecture; while the projecting cornices, which would absolutely deform shafts less slight, are peculiarly indicative of the Takshak architect.[4.25.28] Samprati was the fourth prince in descent from Chandragupta, of the Jain faith, and the ally of Seleucus, the Grecian sovereign of Bactriana. The fragments of Megasthenes, ambassador from Seleucus, record that this alliance was most intimate; that the daughter of the Rajput king was married to Seleucus, who, in return for elephants and other gifts, sent a body of Greek soldiers to serve Chandragupta. It is curious to contemplate the possibility, nay the probability, that the Jain temple now before the reader may have been designed by Grecian artists, or that the taste of the artists among the Rajputs may have been modelled after the Grecian. This was our temple of Theseus in Mewar. A massive monolithic emblem of black marble of the Hindu Pitrideva had been improperly introduced into the shrine of the worshippers of the “spirit alone.” Being erected on the rock, and chiselled from the syenite on which it stands, it may bid defiance to time. There was another sacred structure in its vicinity, likewise Jain, but of a distinct character; indeed, offering a perfect contrast to that described. It was three stories in height; each tier was decorated with numerous massive low columns, resting on a sculptured panelled parapet, and sustaining the roof of each story, which, being very low, admitted but a broken light to break the pervading gloom. I should imagine that the sacred architects of the East had studied effect equally with the preservers of learning and the arts in the dark period of Europe, when those monuments, which must ever be her pride, arose on the ruins of paganism. How far the Saxon or Scandinavian pagan contributed to the general design of such structures may be doubted; but that their decorations, especially the grotesque, have a powerful resemblance to the most ancient Hindu-Scythic, there is no question, as I shall hereafter more particularly point out [672].

Who, that has a spark of imagination, but has felt the indescribable emotion which the gloom and silence of a Gothic cathedral excites? The very extent provokes a comparison humiliating to the pigmy spectator, and this is immeasurably increased when the site is the mountain pinnacle, where man and his works fade into nothing in contemplating the magnificent expanse of nature. The Hindu priest did not raise the temple for heterogeneous multitudes: he calculated that the mind would be more highly excited when left to its solitary devotions, amidst the silence of these cloistered columns, undisturbed save by the monotony of the passing bell, while the surrounding gloom is broken only by the flare of the censer as the incense mounts above the altar.

=Temple of Māma Devi.=—It would present no distinct picture to the eye were I to describe each individual edifice within the scope of vision, either upwards towards the citadel, or below. Looking down from the Jain temple towards the pass, till the contracting gorge is lost in distance, the gradually diminishing space is filled with masses of ruin. I will only notice two of the most interesting. The first is dedicated to Mama Devi, ‘the mother of the gods,’ whose shrine is on the brow of the mountain overlooking the pass. The goddess is placed in the midst of her numerous family, including the greater and lesser divinities. They are all of the purest marble, each about three feet in height, and tolerably executed, though evidently since the decline of the art, of which very few good specimens exist executed within the last seven centuries. The temple is very simple and primitive, consisting but of a long hall, around which the gods are ranged, without either niche or altar.

The most interesting portion of this temple is its court, formed by a substantial wall enclosing a tolerable area. The interior of this wall had been entirely covered with immense tables of black marble, on which was inscribed the history of their gods, and, what was of infinitely greater importance, that of the mortal princes who had erected the tablets in their honour. But what a sight for the antiquary! Not one of the many tables was entire; the fragments were strewed about, or placed in position to receive the flesh-pots of the sons of Ishmael, the mercenary Rohilla Afghan [673].[4.25.29]

=Memorial of Prithirāj and Tāra Bāi.=—On quitting the temple of Mama Devi, my attention was attracted by a simple monumental shrine on the opposite side of the valley, and almost in the gorge of the pass. It was most happily situated, being quite isolated, overlooking the road leading to Marwar, and consisted of a simple dome of very moderate dimensions, supported by columns, without any intervening object to obstruct the view of the little monumental altar arising out of the centre of the platform. It was the Sybilline temple of Tivoli in miniature. To it, over rock and ruin, I descended. Here repose the ashes of the Troubadour of Mewar, the gallant Prithiraj and his heroine wife, Tara Bai, whose lives and exploits fill many a page of the legendary romances of Mewar.

This fair ‘star’ (tara) was the daughter of Rao Surthan, the chieftain of Badnor. He was of the Solanki tribe, the lineal descendant of the famed Balhara kings of Anhilwara. Thence expelled by the arms of Ala in the thirteenth century, they migrated to Central India, and obtained possession of Tonk-Toda and its lands on the Banas, which from remote times had been occupied (perhaps founded) by the Taks, and hence bore the name of Taksilanagar, familiarly Takatpur and Toda.[4.25.30] Surthan had been deprived of Toda by Lila the Afghan, and now occupied Badnor at the foot of the Aravalli, within the bounds of Mewar. Stimulated by the reverses of her family, and by the incentives of its ancient glory, Tara Bai, scorning the habiliments and occupations of her sex, learned to guide the war-horse, and throw with unerring aim the arrow from his back, even while at speed. Armed with the bow and quiver, and mounted on a fiery Kathiawar, she joined the cavalcade in their unsuccessful attempts to wrest Toda from the Afghan. Jaimall, the third son of Rana Raemall, in person made proposals for her hand. “Redeem Toda,” said the star of Badnor, “and my hand is thine.” He assented to the terms: but evincing a rude determination to be possessed of the prize ere he had earned it, he was slain by the indignant father. Prithiraj, the brother of the deceased, was then in exile in Marwar; he had just signalized his valour, and ensured his father’s forgiveness, the redemption of Godwar,[4.25.31] and the [674] catastrophe at Badnor determined him to accept the gage thrown down to Jaimall. Fame and the bard had carried the renown of Prithiraj far beyond the bounds of Mewar; the name alone was attractive to the fair, and when thereto he who bore it added all the chivalrous ardour of his prototype, the Chauhan, Tara Bai, with the sanction of her father, consented to be his, on the simple asseveration that “he would restore to them Toda, or he was no true Rajput.” The anniversary of the martyrdom of the sons of Ali was the season chosen for the exploit.[4.25.32] Prithiraj formed a select band of five hundred cavaliers, and accompanied by his bride, the fair Tara, who insisted on partaking his glory and his danger, he reached Toda at the moment the ta’aziya or bier containing the martyr-brothers was placed in the centre of the chauk or ‘square.’ The prince, Tara Bai, and the faithful Sengar chief, the inseparable companion of Prithiraj, left their cavalcade and joined the procession as it passed under the balcony of the palace in which the Afghan was putting on his dress preparatory to descending. Just as he had asked who were the strange horsemen that had joined the throng, the lance of Prithiraj and an arrow from the bow of his Amazonian bride stretched him on the floor. Before the crowd recovered from the panic, the three had reached the gate of the town, where their exit was obstructed by an elephant. Tara Bai with her scimitar divided his trunk, and the animal flying, they joined their cavalcade, which was close at hand.

The Afghans were encountered, and could not stand the attack. Those who did not fly were cut to pieces; and the gallant Prithiraj inducted the father of his bride into his inheritance. A brother of the Afghans, in his attempt to recover it, lost his life. The Nawab Mallu Khan then holding Ajmer determined to oppose the Sesodia prince in person; who, resolved upon being the assailant, advanced to Ajmer, encountered his foe in the camp at daybreak, and after great slaughter entered Garh Bitli, the citadel, with the fugitives. “By these acts,” says the chronicle, “his fame increased in Rajwara: one thousand Rajputs, animated by the same love of glory and devotion, gathered round the nakkaras of Prithiraj. Their swords shone in the heavens, and were dreaded on the earth; but they aided the defenceless.”

Another story is recorded and confirmed by Muhammadan writers as to the result, though they are ignorant of the impulse which prompted the act. Prithiraj on some [675] occasion found the Rana conversing familiarly with an ahadi[4.25.33] of the Malwa king, and feeling offended at the condescension, expressed himself with warmth. The Rana ironically replied: “You are a mighty seizer of kings; but for me, I desire to retain my land.” Prithiraj abruptly retired, collected his band, made for Nimach, where he soon gathered five thousand horse, and reaching Dipalpur, plundered it, and slew the governor. The king on hearing of the irruption left Mandu at the head of what troops he could collect; but the Rajput prince, in lieu of retreating, rapidly advanced and attacked the camp while refreshing after the march. Singling out the royal tent, occupied by eunuchs and females, the king was made captive, and placed on an express camel beside the prince, who warned the pursuers to follow peaceably, or he would put his majesty to death; adding that he intended him no harm, but that after having made him “touch his father’s feet,” he should restore him to liberty. Having carried him direct to Chitor and to his father’s presence, he turned to him saying, “Send for your friend the ahadi, and ask him who this is?” The Malwa king was detained a month within the walls of Chitor, and having paid his ransom in horses, was set at liberty with every demonstration of honour.[4.25.34] Prithiraj returned to Kumbhalmer, his residence, and passed his life in exploits like these from the age of fourteen to twenty-three, the admiration of the country and the theme of the bard.

It could not be expected that long life would be the lot of one who thus courted distinction, though it was closed neither by shot nor sabre, but by poison, when on the eve of prosecuting his unnatural feud against his brother Sanga, the place of whose retreat was made known by his marriage with the daughter of the chieftain of Srinagar, who had dared to give him protection in defiance of his threats.

At the same time he received a letter from his sister, written in great grief, complaining of the barbarous treatment of her lord, the Sirohi prince, from whose tyranny she begged to be delivered and to be restored to the paternal roof; since whenever he had indulged too freely in the ‘essence of the flower,’ or in opium, he used to place her under the bedstead, and leave her to sleep on the floor. Prithiraj instantly departed, reached Sirohi at midnight, scaled the palace, and interrupted the repose of Pabhu Rao by placing his poniard at his throat. His wife, notwithstanding his cruelty, complied with his humiliating appeal for mercy, and begged his life, which was granted on condition of his standing as a suppliant with his wife’s [676] shoes on his head, and touching her feet, the lowest mark of degradation. He obeyed, was forgiven, and embraced by Prithiraj, who became his guest during five days. Pabhu Rao was celebrated for a confection, of which he presented some to his brother at parting. He partook of it as he came in sight of Kumbhalmer; but on reaching the shrine of Mama Devi was unable to proceed. Here he sent a message to the fair Tara to come and bid him farewell; but so subtle was the poison, that death had overtaken him ere she descended from the citadel. Her resolution was soon formed; the pyre was erected, and with the mortal remains of the chivalrous Prithiraj in her embrace, she sought “the regions of the sun.” Such the end of the Sesodia prince, and the star of Badnor. From such instances we must form our opinion of the manners of these people. But for the poisoned confection of the chief of Sirohi, Prithiraj would have had the glory of opposing himself to Babur, instead of his heroic brother and successor, Sanga.[4.25.35] Whether, from his superior ardour of temperament, and the love of military glory which attracted similarly constituted minds to his fortunes, he would have been more successful than his brother, it is futile to conjecture.

=The Frontier of Mārwār.=—October 20.—Halted till noon, that the men might dress their dinners, and prepare for the descent into “the region of death,” or Marwar. The pass by which we had to gain it was represented as terrific; but as both horse and elephant, with the aid of the hatchet, will pick their way wherever man can go, we determined to persevere. Struck the camp at noon, when the baggage filed off, halting ourselves till three; the escort and advanced tents, and part of the cuisine being ordered to clear the pass, while we designed to spend the night midway, in a spot forming the natural boundary of Mewar and Marwar, reported to be sufficiently capacious. Rumour had not magnified the difficulties of the descent, which we found strewed with our baggage, arresting all progress for a full hour. For nearly a mile there was but just breadth sufficient to admit the passage of a loaded elephant, the descent being at an angle of 55° with the horizon, and streams on either side rushing with a deafening roar over their rugged beds. As we gained a firmer footing at the base of this first descent, we found that the gallant Manika, the gift of my friend the Bundi prince, had missed his footing and rolled down the steep, breaking the cantle of the saddle; a little farther appeared the cook, hanging in dismay over the scattered implements of his art, his camel remonstrating against the [677] replacing of his kajavas or panniers. For another mile it became more gentle, when we passed under a tower of Kumbhalmer, erected on a scarped projection of the rock, full five hundred feet above us. The scenery was magnificent; the mountains rising on each side in every variety of form, and their summits, as they caught a ray of the departing sun, reflecting on our sombre path a momentary gleam from the masses of rose-coloured quartz which crested them. Noble forest trees covered every face of the hills and the bottom of the glen, through which, along the margin of the serpentine torrent which we repeatedly crossed, lay our path. Notwithstanding all our mishaps, partly from the novelty and grandeur of the scene, and partly from the invigorating coolness of the air, our mirth became wild and clamorous: a week before I was oppressed with a thousand ills; and now I trudged the rugged path, leaping the masses of granite which had rolled into the torrent.

There was one spot where the waters formed a pool or dah. Little Carey determined to trust to his pony to carry him across, but deviating to the left, just as I was leaping from a projecting ledge, to my horror, horse and rider disappeared. The shock was momentary, and a good ducking the only result, which in the end was the luckiest thing that could have befallen him. On reaching the Hathidarra, or ‘barrier of the elephant’ (a very appropriate designation for a mass of rock serving as a rampart to shut up the pass), where we had intended to remain the night, we found no spot capacious enough even for a single tent. Orders accordingly passed to the rear for the baggage to collect there, and wait the return of day to continue the march. The shades of night were fast descending, and we proceeded almost in utter darkness towards the banks of the stream, the roar of whose waters was our guide, and not a little perplexed by the tumultuous rush which issued from every glen, to join that we were seeking. Towards the termination of the descent the path became wider, and the voice of the waters of a deeper and hoarser tone, as they glided to gain the plains of Marwar. The vault of heaven, in which there was not a cloud, appeared as an arch to the perpendicular cliffs surrounding us on all sides, and the stars beamed with peculiar brilliancy from the confined space through which we viewed them. As we advanced in perfect silence, fancy busily at work on what might befall our straggling retinue from the ferocious tiger or plundering mountaineer, a gleam of light suddenly flashed upon us on emerging from the brushwood, and disclosed a party of dismounted cavaliers seated round their night-fires under some magnificent fig-trees [678].[4.5.36]

=Meeting with the Mers.=—Halted, and called a council of war to determine our course: we had gained the spot our guides had assigned as the only fitting one for bivouac before we reached the plains beyond the mountains; it afforded shade from the dews, and plenty of water. The munitions de bouche having gone on was a good argument that we should follow; but darkness and five miles more of intricate forest, through a path from which the slightest deviation, right or left, might lead us into the jaws of a tiger, or the toils of the equally savage Mer, decided us to halt. We now took another look at the group above-mentioned. Though the excitement of the morning was pretty well chilled by cold and hunger (poor sharpeners of the imagination), it was impossible to contemplate the scene before us without a feeling of the highest interest. From twenty-five to thirty tall figures, armed at all points, were sitting or reposing in groups round their watch-fires, conversing and passing the pipe from hand to hand, while their long black locks, and motley-fashioned turbans, told that they belonged to Marudesa. A rude altar, raised in honour of some “gentle blood” shed by the murky mountaineer, served as a place of rest for the chief of the party, distinguished by the gold band in his turban, and his deer-skin doublet. I gave the usual salutation of “Rama, Rama,” to the chief and his party, and inquired after the health of their chieftain of Ghanerao, to whose courtesy I found I owed this mark of attention. This was the boundary between the two States of Marwar and Mewar, since the district of Godwar was lost by the latter about fifty years ago. The spot has been the scene of many a conflict, and a closer approach disclosed several other altars raised in honour of the slain; each represented a cavalier mounted on his war-steed, with his lance poised, denoting that in such attitude he fell in defending the pass, or redeeming the cattle from the plundering mountain Mer. A square tablet placed on each contained the date on which he gained “the mansions of the sun.” Midnight being past, and bringing no hope of our appetites growing by what they might feed upon, Dr. Duncan and Captain Waugh took the jhul, or broadcloth-housing, from the elephant, and rolling themselves in it, followed the example of the chieftain and reposed upon the ashes of the brave, on an altar adjoining the one he occupied. I soon left them in happy forgetfulness of tigers, Meras, hunger, and all the fatigues of the day, and joined the group to listen to the tale with which they enlivened the midnight hour. This I can repeat, but it would have required the pencil of a master to paint the scene. It was a subject for Salvator Rosa; though I should [679] have been perfectly satisfied with one of Captain Waugh’s delineations, had he been disposed at that moment to exert the pictorial art. Several of my friends had encountered the mountaineer on this very spot; and these humble cenotaphs, covering the ashes of their kin, recalled events not likely to be repeated in these halcyon days, when the names of Bhil and Mer cease to be the synonyms of plunderer. As there may be no place more appropriate for a sketch of the mountaineers, the reader may transport himself to the glen of Kumbhalmer, and listen to the history of one of the aboriginal tribes of Rajasthan [680].

(The Foresters of Rājputana.) To face page 788.

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Footnote 4.25.1:

The amphitheatre, or circle. [The valley of Udaipur.]

Footnote 4.25.2:

Sabun, in the lingua franca of India, signifies ‘soap.’ [The soap-nut tree (sapindus mukorossi), the fruit of which is used for washing clothes and the hair (Watt, Comm. Prod. 979).]

Footnote 4.25.3:

[Raised by James Skinner (1778-1841), known as “The Yellow Boys,” in 1823; 1st Irregular Cavalry (Skinner’s Horse), 1840; 1st Bengal Cavalry, 1861 (F. G. Cardew, Sketch of the Services of the Bengal Native Army to the Year 1895).]

Footnote 4.25.4:

[Calligonum polygonoides, a shrub on which camels live for the greater part of the year.]

Footnote 4.25.5:

Bhanej, or ‘nephew,’ a title of courtesy enjoyed by every chieftain who marries a daughter or immediate kinswoman of the Rana’s house. [When Bhīm Singh succeeded in 1793, his first act was to drive his uncle, Zālim Singh, the son of a Mewār princess, from Jodhpur. He took refuge in Udaipur, and passed the rest of his days in literary pursuits. He was a man of charm and ability, a gallant soldier, no mean poet. He died in the prime of life in British Merwāra in 1799 (Erskine iii. A. 70).]

Footnote 4.25.6:

My guide or instructor, Yati Gyanchandra, a priest of the Jain sect, who had been with me ten years. To him I owe much, for he entered into all my antiquarian pursuits with zeal.

Footnote 4.25.7:

[A chiefship in Central India under the Bhopāl Agency. In 1819 Subhāg Singh becoming imbecile was replaced by his son Chain Singh, after whose death in 1824 he was restored (IGI, xviii. 353).]

Footnote 4.25.8:

[As usual, Jainism and Buddhism are confounded.]

Footnote 4.25.9:

One of the four Agnikulas. [The Umats were not a distinguished tribe until Achal Singh, Dīwān of Narsinghgarh, married his son to a near relation of the Mahārāna of Udaipur, and since this alliance many of the principal Mālwa families eat with the Rājas of Umatwāra (Malcolm, Memoir of Central India, 2nd ed. ii. 130 f.). For a full and slightly different account see IGI, xviii. 382 ff.]

Footnote 4.25.10:

[Chain Singh quarrelled with the Political Agent, attacked the British forces at Sehore, and was killed in the battle in 1824 (IGI, xviii. 383).]

Footnote 4.25.11:

Sindhia’s flag is a snake argent on an orange field.

Footnote 4.25.12:

Pān, ‘the leaf’; parna and pattra, the Sanskrit for ‘a leaf’; and hence panna, ‘a leaf or sheet of paper’; and patra, ‘a plate of metal or sacrificial cup,’ because these vessels were first made of leaves. I was amused with the coincidence between the Sanskrit and Tuscan panna. That lovely subject by Raphael, the “Madonna impannata,” in the Pitti Palace at Florence, is so called from the subdued light admitted through the window, the panes of which are of paper. [The words have no connexion.]

Footnote 4.25.13:

[A variant of the well-known Fairy Gift legend (Crooke, Popular Religion and Folklore of N. India, 2nd ed. i. 287 ff.).]

Footnote 4.25.14:

[The home of the Rāna branch of Guhilots, who take the name of Sesodia from it, while Chitor was the capital of the Rāwal branch of the ruling house (Erskine ii. A. 15).]

Footnote 4.25.15:

[Lotus nuts are used for necklaces, but Sannyāsis usually wear those of the rudrāksha (Elaeocarpus ganitrus) (Watt, Econ. Dict. v. 345; Comm. Prod. 511).]

Footnote 4.25.16:

[Acacia catechu, Capparis aphylla, Acacia arabica.]

Footnote 4.25.17:

[Ficus glomerata, Annona squamosa, Prunus persica.]

Footnote 4.25.18:

[Our knowledge of Indian locusts is still imperfect, the best-known varieties being the Bombay and the North-West (Watt, Econ. Dict. vi. Part i. 154 f.; Comm. Prod. 686).]

Footnote 4.25.19:

[A kind of cucumber, Cucumis utilissimus (Watt, Comm. Prod. 439).]

Footnote 4.25.20:

[Chaturbhuja Vishnu.]

Footnote 4.25.21:

[‘The Barrier.’]

Footnote 4.25.22:

[‘The Onset.’]

Footnote 4.25.23:

[‘That of the monkey god,’ a common guardian of forts.]

Footnote 4.25.24:

[Chaugān, ‘the Parade Ground.’]

Footnote 4.25.25:

At four o’clock P.M., same position, thermometer 81°; barometer, 26° 85´.

Footnote 4.25.26:

[3658 feet.]

Footnote 4.25.27:

[Samprati was grandson of Asoka, and he is credited with the erection of many Jain buildings (Smith, EHI, 192 f.; BG, i. Part i. 15). From the picture of the temple given by the author, and from an inscription of the reign of Rāna Sangrām Singh (A.D. 1508-27), it could not have been more than three centuries old when he saw it (IA, ii. 205). There are two temples, one consisting of a square sanctuary with a vaulted dome, and surrounded by a colonnade of elegant pillars: the second is of peculiar design, having three stories, each tier being decorated with massive low columns (Erskine ii. A. 116).]

Footnote 4.25.28:

See note, p. 37, above.

Footnote 4.25.29:

These people assert their Coptic origin: being driven from Egypt by one of the Pharaohs, they wandered eastwards till they arrived under that peak of the mountains west of the Indus called Sulaiman-i-koh, or ‘Hill of Solomon,’ where they halted. Others draw their descent from the lost tribes. They are a very marked race, and as unsettled as their forefathers, serving everywhere. They are fine gallant men, and, when managed by such officers as Skinner, make excellent and orderly soldiers; but they evince great contempt for the eaters of swine, who are their abomination. [The Rohillas, ‘Highlanders,’ are a Pathān tribe which occupied Rohilkhand after the death of Aurangzeb, A.D. 1707 (Crooke, Tribes and Castes N.W.P. and Oudh, iv. 165 f.).]

Footnote 4.25.30:

From the ruins of its temples, remnants of Takshak architecture, the amateur might speedily fill a portfolio. This tract abounds with romantic scenery: Rajmahall on the Banas, Gokaran, and many others. Herbert calls Chitor the abode of Taxiles, the ally of Alexander. The Taks were all of the race of Puru, so that Porus is a generic, not a proper name. This Taksilanagar has been a large city. We owe thanks to the Emperor Babur, who has given us the position of the city of Taxiles, where Alexander left it, west of the Indus. [The Tāk tribe had no connexion with Chitor.]

Footnote 4.25.31:

See p. 344 [Vol. I.].

Footnote 4.25.32:

[The Muharram festival.]

Footnote 4.25.33:

[Ahadi, ‘single, alone,’ like our warrant-officer, a gentleman trooper in the Mughal service, so called because they offered their services singly, and did not attach themselves to any chief (Āīn, i. 20, note; Irvine, Army of the Indian Moghuls, 43).]

Footnote 4.25.34:

[This is the Rājput story which lacks confirmation from Muhammadan sources. The captive may have been Ghiyāsū-d-dīn of Mālwa, or Muzaffar Shāh of Gujarāt; but it is probably fiction invented by the Mewār bards (Erskine ii. A. 18).]

Footnote 4.25.35:

See Annals, p. 353.

Footnote 4.5.36:

The bar or banyan tree, Ficus Indica.

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Chapter 26

=The Mer Tribe.=—The Mer or Mera is the mountaineer of Rajputana, and the country he inhabits is styled Merwara, or ‘the region of hills.’ The epithet is therefore merely local, for the Mer is but a branch of the Mina or Maina, one of the aborigines of India. He is also called Merot and Merawat; but these terminations only more correctly define his character of mountaineer.[4.26.1] Merwara is that portion of the Aravalli chain between Kumbhalmer and Ajmer, a space of about ninety miles in length, and varying in breadth from six to twenty. The general character of this magnificent rampart, in the natural and physical geography of Rajputana, is now sufficiently familiar. It rises from three to four thousand feet above the level of the sea, and abounds with a variety of natural productions. In short, I know no portion of the globe which would yield to the scientific traveller more abundant materials for observation than the alpine Aravalli. The architectural antiquary might fill his portfolio, and natural history would receive additions to her page in every department, and especially in botany and zoology.[4.26.2] I [681] should know no higher gratification than to be of a scientific party to anatomize completely this important portion of India. I would commence on the Gujarat, and finish on the Shaikhawat frontier. The party should consist of a skilful surveyor, to lay down on a large scale a topographical chart of the mountains; several gentlemen thoroughly versed in natural history; able architectural and landscape draughtsmen, and the antiquary to transcribe ancient inscriptions, as well as to depict the various races. The “Aravalli delineated,” by the hand of science, would form a most instructive and delightful work.

A minute account of the Mer, his habits and his history, would be no unimportant feature: but as this must be deferred, I will, in the meanwhile, furnish some details to supply the void.

The Mers are a branch of the Chitas, an important division of the Minas.[4.26.3] I shall elsewhere enter at large into the history of this race, which consists of as many branches as their conquerors, the Rajputs. All these wild races have the vanity to mingle their pedigree with that of their conquerors, though in doing so they stigmatize themselves. The Chita-Minas accordingly claim descent from a grandson of the last Chauhan emperor of Delhi. Anhul and Anup were the sons of Lakha, the nephew of the Chauhan king. The coco-nut was sent from Jaisalmer, offering princesses of that house in marriage: but an investigation into their maternal ancestry disclosed that they were the issue of a Mina concubine: and their birth being thus revealed, they became exiles from Ajmer, and associates with their maternal relatives.

Anhul espoused the daughter of a Mina chieftain, by whom he had Chita, whose descendants enjoy almost a monopoly of power in Merwara. The sons of Chita, who occupied the northern frontier near Ajmer, became Muhammadans about fifteen generations ago, when Duda, the sixteenth from the founder of the race, was created Dawad Khan by the Hakim of Ajmer; and as Hathun was his residence, the “Khan of Hathun” signified the chief of the Merots. Chang, Jhak, and Rajosi are the principal towns adjoining Hathun. Anup also took a Mina wife, by whom he had Barar, whose descendants have continued true [682] to their original tenets. Their chief places are Barar, Berawara, Mandila, etc. Though the progeny of these Minas may have been improved by the infusion of Rajput blood, they were always notorious for their lawless habits, and for the importance attached to them so far back as the period of Bisaldeo, the celebrated prince of Ajmer, whom the bard Chand states to have reduced them to submission, making them “carry water in the streets of Ajmer.” Like all mountaineers, they of course broke out whenever the hands of power were feeble. In the battle between the Chauhans of Ajmer and the Parihars of Mandor, a body of four thousand Mer bowmen served Nahar Rao, and defended the pass of the Aravalli against Prithiraj in this his first essay in arms. Chand thus describes them:[4.26.4] “Where hill joins hill, the Mer and Mina thronged. The Mandor chief commanded that the pass should be defended—four thousand heard and obeyed, each in form as the angel of death—men who never move without the omen, whose arrow never flies in vain—with frames like India’s bolt—faithful to their word, preservers of the land and the honour[4.26.5] of Mandor; whose fortresses have to this day remained unconquered—who bring the spoils of the plains to their dwellings. Of these in the dark recesses of the mountains four thousand lay concealed, their crescent-formed arrows beside them. Like the envenomed serpent, they wait in silence the advance of the foe.

=Prithirāj attacks the Mers.=—“Tidings reached the Chauhan that the manly Mina, with bow in hand, stood in the mountain’s gorge. Who would be bold enough to force it? his rage was like the hungry lion’s when he views his prey. He called the brave Kana, and bade him observe those wretches as he commanded him to clear the pass. Bowing he departed, firm as the rock on which he trod. He advanced, but the mountaineer (Mer) was immovable as Sumeru. Their arrows, carrying death, fly like Indra’s bolts—they obscure the sun. Warriors fall from their steeds, resounding in their armour as a tree torn up by the blast. Kana quits the steed; hand to hand he encounters the foe; the feathery shafts, as they strike fire, appear like birds escaping from the flames. The lance flies through the breast, appearing at the back [683], like a fish escaping through the meshes of a net. The evil spirits dance in the mire of blood. The hero of the mountain[4.26.6] encountered Kana, and his blow made him reel; but like lightning it was returned, and the mountaineer fell: the crash was as the shaking of Sumeru. At this moment Nahar arrived, roaring like a tiger for his prey: he called aloud to revenge their chief, his brother,[4.26.7] and fresh vigour was infused into their souls. On the fall of the mountain-chief, the Chauhan commanded the ‘hymn of triumph’[4.26.8] to be sounded; it startled the mountaineer, but only to nerve his soul afresh. In person the Chauhan sought his foe. The son of Somesa is a bridegroom. His streaming standards flutter like the first falls of rain in Asarh, and as he steps on the bounds which separate Mandor from Ajmer, ‘Victory! victory!’ is proclaimed. Still the battle rages. Elephants roar, horses neigh, terror stalks everywhere. The aids of Girnar[4.26.9] and of Sind now appeared for Mandor, bearing banners of every colour, varied as the flowers of the spring. Both arrays were clad in mail; their eyes and their finger-nails alone were exposed; each invoked his tutelary protector as he wielded the dodhara.[4.26.10] Prithiraj was refulgent as Indra; the Parihar’s brightness was as the morning star; each was clad in armour of proof, immovable as gods in mortal form. The sword of the Chauhan descended on the steed of the Parihar; but as he fell, Nahar sprung erect, and they again darted on each other, their warriors forming a fortress around the persons of their lords. Then advanced the standards of the Pramar, like a black rolling cloud, while the lightnings flashed from his sword. Mohana, the brother of Mandor, received him; they first examined each other—then joining in the strife, the helm of the Pramar was cleft in twain. Now advanced Chawand, the Dahima; he grasped his iron lance,[4.26.11]—it pierced the Parihar, and the head appeared like a serpent looking through the door in his back. The flame (jyot) united with the fire from which it sprung, while the body fell on its parent earth. By his devotion the sins of his life were forgiven. Nobly did the tiger (Nahar) of Mandor meet the lion of the world. He called aloud, ‘Hold your ground as did Bal Raja of old.’ Again the battle rages—Durga gluts herself with blood [684]—the air resounds with the clash of arms and the rattling of banners—the Aswar[4.26.12] rains on the foe—Khetrpal[4.26.13] sports in the field of blood—Mahadeva fills his necklace—the eagle gluts itself on the slain—the mien of the warriors expands as does the lotos at the sunbeam—the war-song resounds—with a branch of the tulasi on the helm, adorned in the saffron robe, the warriors on either side salute each other.” The bard here exclaims, “But why should I enlarge on this encounter?”—but as this digression is merely for breathing time, we shall not follow him, the object being to introduce the mountain Mer, whom we now see hors de combat.

=Character of the Mers.=—Admitting the exaggeration of the poet, the Mer appears to have been in the twelfth century what he is in the nineteenth, a bold, licentious marauder. He maintained himself throughout the whole of the Mogul domination, alternately succumbing and depredating; and since the Mahrattas crippled these countries, the Mer had regained all his consequence, and was rapidly encroaching upon his Rajput suzerain. But when in 1821 their excesses made it imperative to reduce their holds and fastnesses, they made no stand against the three battalions of sepoys sent against them, and the whole tract was compelled to obedience; not, however, till many of the descendants of Chita and Barar had suffered both in person and property.[4.26.14] The facility with which we reduced to entire subjection this extensive association of plunderers, for centuries the terror of these countries, occasioned no little astonishment to our allies. The resistance was indeed contemptible, and afforded a good argument against the prowess of those who had tolerated the existence of a gang at once so mischievous and weak. But this was leaping to a conclusion without looking beneath the surface, or to the moral and political revolution which enervated the arms of Mer and Mahratta, Pindari and Pathan. All rose to power from the common occupation of plunderers, aided by the national jealousies of the Rajputs. If the chieftains of Mewar leagued to assault the mountaineers, they found refuge and support in Marwar; and as their fortresses at all times presented a sanctuary, their Rawats or leaders obtained consequence amongst all parties by granting it. Every Mer community, accordingly, had a perfect understanding with the chieftain whose lands were contiguous to their own, and who enjoyed rights granted by the Rana over these nominal subjects. These rights were all of a feudal nature, as rakhwali or ‘blackmail’ [685], and those petty proofs of subordination, entitled in the feudal law of Europe “petit serjanterie.” The token might be a colt, a hawk, or a bullock, and a nazarana, or pecuniary acknowledgement, perhaps only of half-a-crown on the chieftain’s birthday, or on the Rajput Saturnalia, the Holi. But all these petty causes for assimilation between the Rajput and the lawless Mer were overlooked, as well as the more powerful one which rendered his arms of no avail. Every door was hermetically sealed against him; wherever he looked he saw a foe—the magical change bewildered him; and when their Khan and his adherents were assailed while in fancied security, and cut off in a midnight attack, his self-confidence was annihilated—he saw a red-coat in every glen, and called aloud for mercy.

=The Merwāra Battalion.=—A corps of these mountaineers, commanded by English officers, has since been formed, and I have no doubt may become useful.[4.26.15] Notwithstanding their lawless habits, they did not neglect agriculture and embanking, as described in the valley of Shera Nala, and a district has been formed in Merwara which in time may yield a lakh of rupees annually to the state.

=Marriage Customs.=—Some of their customs are so curious, and so different from those of their lowland neighbours, that we may mention a few. Leaving their superstitions as regards omens and auguries, the most singular part of their habits, till we give a detailed sketch of the Minas hereafter, I will notice the peculiarity of their notions towards females. The Mer, following the customary law handed down from his rude ancestry, and existing long before the written law of Manu, has no objection to a widow as a wife. This contract is termed nata, and his civilized master levies a fine or fee of a rupee and a quarter for the licence, termed kagli. On such marriage the bridegroom must omit in the maur, or nuptial coronet, the graceful palmyra leaf, and substitute a small branch of the sacred pipal wreathed in his turban. Many of the forms are according to the common Hindu ritual. The sat-phera, or seven perambulations round the jars filled with grain, piled over each other—the ganth-jora, or uniting the garments—and the hathleva, or junction of hands of bride and bridegroom, are followed by the Mers. Even the northern clans, who are converts to Islam, return to their ancient habits on this occasion, and have a Brahman priest to officiate. I discovered, on inquiring into the habits of the Mers, that they are not the only race which did not refuse to wed a widow, and that both Brahmans and Rajputs have from ancient times been accustomed not to consider it derogatory [686].[4.26.16] Of the former, the sacerdotal class, the Nagda[4.26.17] Brahmans, established at this town long before the Guhilots obtained power in Mewar. Of the Rajputs, they are all of the most ancient tribes, now the allodial vassals or Bhumias of Rajputana, as the Chinana, Kharwar, Uten, Daya, names better known in the mystic page of the chronicle than now, though occasionally met with in the valleys of the Aravalli. But this practice, so little known, gives rise to an opinion, that many of the scrupulous habits regarding women are the inventions of the priests of more modern days. The facilities for separation are equally simple. If tempers do not assimilate, or other causes prompt them to part, the husband tears a shred from his turban, which he gives to his wife, and with this simple bill of divorce, placing two jars filled with water on her head, she takes whatever path she pleases, and the first man who chooses to ease her of her load becomes her future lord. This mode of divorce is practised not only amongst all the Minas, but by Jats, Gujars, Ahirs, Malis, and other Sudra tribes. Jehar le aur nikali, ‘took the jar and went forth,’ is a common saying amongst the mountaineers of Merwara.

=Oaths, Food, Omens.=—Their invocations and imprecations are peculiar. The Chita or northern Mer, since he became acquainted with the name of the prophet, swears by ‘Allah,’ or by his first proselyte ancestor, ‘Duda Dawad Khan,’ or the still more ancient head of the races, ‘Chita, Barar ka an‘. The southern Mers also use the latter oath: “By my allegiance to Chita and Barar”; and they likewise swear by the sun, ‘Suraj ka Sagun,’ and ‘Nath ka Sagun’; or their ascetic priest, called the Nath. The Muhammadan Mer will not now eat hog; the southron refuses nothing, though he respects the cow from the prejudices of those around him, and to please the Nath or Jogi, his spiritual guide. The partridge and the maloli,[4.26.18] or wag-tail, are the chief birds of omen with him, and the former ‘clamouring’ on the left, when he commences a foray, is a certain presage of success. To conclude; colonies of the Mers or Meras will be found as far north as the Chambal, and even in the peninsula of Saurashtra. Merwara is now in subjection to the Rana of Mewar, who has erected small forts amidst the most influential communities to overawe them. The whole tract has been assessed; the chiefs of the districts being brought to the Rana’s presence presented nazarana, swore fidelity, and received according to their rank gold bracelets or turbans. It was an era in the annals of Mewar to see the accumulated arms of Merwara piled upon the [687] terrace of the palace at the capital; but these measures were subsequent to our sojourn in the glen of Kumbhalmer, from which we have yet to issue to gain Marwar.

=The Chief of Gokulgarh.=—October 21.—All hailed the return of daylight with reverence. Captain Waugh and the Doctor uncoiled from the elephant’s jhul, and I issued from my palki, which had proved a welcome retreat against the chills of the night air. By thirst and hunger our appetite for the picturesque was considerably abated, and the contemplation of the spot where we had bivouaced in that philosophical spirit of silence, which all have experienced who have made a long march before breakfast, lost much of its romantic interest. Nevertheless, could I have consulted merely my own wishes, I would have allowed my friends and escort to follow the canteen, and have pursued an intricate path which branched off to the right, to have had the chance of an interview with the outlaw of Gokulgarh.

This petty chieftain, who enjoyed the distinctive epithet of outlaw (barwatia), was of the Sonigira clan (a branch of the Chauhans), who for centuries were the lords of Jalor. He was a vassal of Marwar, now sovereign of Jalor, and being expelled for his turbulence by his prince, he had taken post in the old ruined castle of Gokulgarh, on a cliff of the Aravalli, and had become the terror of the country. By his knowledge of the intricacies of the mountains, he eluded pursuit; and his misdeeds being not only connived at, but his spoils participated by the chief of Deogarh, in whose fief was his haunt, he was under no apprehension of surprise. Inability either to seize the Barwatia, or drive him from his retreat, formed a legitimate excuse for the resumption of Gokulgarh, and the dues of ‘blackmail’ he derived from its twelve dependent villages. The last act of the Sonigira was most flagrant; he intercepted in the plains of Godwar a marriage procession, and made captives the bridegroom and bride, whom he conveyed to Gokulgarh, where they long languished for want of ransom. A party was formed to lie in wait for him; but he escaped the snare, and his retreat was found empty. Such was the state of society in these districts. The form of outlawry is singular in this country, where the penal laws are satisfied with banishment, even in cases of treason, instead of the sanguinary law of civilization. The criminal against whom the sentence of exile is pronounced being called into his prince’s presence, is clad in black vestments, and placed upon a black steed, his arms and shield all of the same sombre hue of mourning and [688] disgrace; he is then left to gain the frontier by himself. This custom is very ancient: the Pandu brothers were ‘Barwatias’[4.26.19] from the Jumna three thousand years ago. The Jaisalmer annals relate the solemnity as practised towards one of their own princes; and the author, in the domestic dissensions of Kotah, received a letter from the prince, wherein he demands either that his rights should be conceded, or that the government would bestow the “black garment,” and leave him to his fate.

=The Chief of Ghānērāo.=—Conversing on these and similar subjects with my Marwari friends, we threaded our way for five miles through the jungles of the pass, which we had nearly cleared, when we encountered the chieftain of Ghanerao at the head of his retinue, who of his own accord, and from a feeling of respect to his ancient sovereign the Rana, advanced thus far to do me honour. I felt the compliment infinitely the more, as it displayed that spirit of loyalty peculiar to the Rajput, though the step was dangerous with his jealous sovereign, and ultimately was prejudicial to him. After dismounting and embracing, we continued to ride to the tents, conversing on the past history of the province, of his prince, and the Rana, after whom he affectionately inquired. Ajit Singh is a noble-looking man, about thirty years of age, tall, fair, and sat his horse like a brave Rathor cavalier. Ghanerao is the chief town of Godwar, with the exception of the commercial Pali, and the garrison-post Desuri. From this important district the Rana could command four thousand Rathors holding lands on the tenure of service, of whom the Ghanerao chief, then one of the sixteen nobles of Mewar, was the head. Notwithstanding the course of events had transferred the province, and consequently his services, from the Rana of Udaipur to the Raja of Jodhpur, so difficult is it to eradicate old feelings of loyalty and attachment, that the present Thakur preferred having the sword of investiture bound on him by his ancient and yet nominal suzerain, rather than by his actual sovereign. For this undisguised mark of feeling, Ghanerao was denuded of its walls, which were levelled to the ground; a perpetual memento of disgrace and an incentive to vengeance: and whenever the day arrives that the Rana’s herald may salute him with the old motto, “Remember Kumbhalmer,” he will not be deaf to the call. To defend this post was the peculiar duty of his house, and often have his ancestors bled in maintaining it against the Mogul. Even now [689], such is the inveteracy with which the Rajput clings to his honours, that whenever the Ghanerao chief, or any of his near kin, attend the Rana’s court, he is saluted at the porte, or at the champ de Mars, by a silver mace-bearer from the Rana, with the ancient war-cry, “Remember Kumbhalmer,” and he still receives on all occasions of rejoicing a khilat from that prince. He has to boast of being of the Rana’s blood, and is by courtesy called “the nephew of Mewar.” The Thakur politely invited me to visit him; but I was aware that compliance would have involved him in difficulties with his jealous prince, and made excuses of fatigue, and the necessity of marching next morning, the motives of which he could not misunderstand.

Our march this morning was but short, and the last two miles were in the plains of Marwar, with merely an occasional rock. Carey joined us, congratulating himself on the ducking which had secured him better fare than we had enjoyed in the pass of Kumbhalmer, and which fastened both on Waugh and myself violent colds. The atmospheric change was most trying: emerging from the cold breezes of the mountains to 96° of Fahrenheit, the effect was most injurious: it was 58° in the morning of our descent into the glen. Alas! for my surviving barometer! Mahesh, my amanuensis, who had been entrusted with it, joined us next day, and told me the quicksilver had contrived to escape; so I lost the opportunity of comparing the level of the desert with the plains of Marwar.

=The Chief of Rūpnagar.=—October 27.—Halted to collect the scattered baggage, and to give the men rest; the day was nearly over before the whole came up, each party bringing lamentable reports of the disastrous descent. I received a visit from the chief of Rupnagar, who, like the Thakur of Ghanerao, owes a divided allegiance to the courts on each side the mountains. His castle, which gives him rank as one of the most conspicuous of the second grade of the Rana’s nobles, was visible from the camp, being placed on the western face of the mountains, and commanding a difficult passage across them. From thence he looks down upon Desuri and his ancient patrimony, now transferred with Godwar to the Rathor prince; and often has he measured his lance with the present occupants to retain his ancient bhum, the right derived from the cultivating proprietor of the soil. The chief of Rupnagar is of the Solanki race, a lineal descendant of the sovereigns of Nahrwala, and the inheritor [690] of the war-shell of the celebrated monarch Siddhraj,[4.26.20] one of the most powerful who ever sat on an eastern throne, and who occupied that of Anhilwara from A.D. 1094, during half a century, celebrated as a patron of literature and the arts. When in the thirteenth century this State was destroyed, the branches found refuge, as already described, in Mewar; for the ancestor of Rupnagar was brother to the father of “the star of Badnor,” and was invested with the estate and lands of Desuri by the same gallant prince who obtained her hand by the recovery of her father’s estates. The anecdote is worthy of relation, as showing that the Rajput will stop at nothing “to obtain land.” The intestine feuds amongst Rana Raemall’s sons, and his constant warfare with the kings of Delhi and Malwa, made his authority very uncertain in Godwar. The Mina and Mer possessed themselves of lands in the plains, and were supported by the Madrecha descendant of the once independent Chauhan sovereigns of Nadol, the ancient capital of this region. Sand, the Madrecha, had obtained possession of Desuri, the garrison town. To expel him, the prince had recourse to Sada, the Solanki, whose son was married to the daughter of the Madrecha. The bribe for the reward of this treachery was to be the grant in perpetuity of Desuri and its lands. Sada’s son readily entered into the scheme; and to afford facilities for its execution he went with his wife to reside at Desuri. It was long before an opportunity offered; but at length the marriage of the young Madrecha to the daughter of Sagra the Balecha was communicated to the Solanki by his son; who told his father “to watch the smoke ascending from the tower of Desuri,” as the signal for the attempt to get possession. Anxiously did Sand watch from his castle of Sodhgarh the preconcerted sign, and when the volume of black smoke ascended, he rushed down from the Aravalli at the head of his retainers. The mother-in-law of the young Solanki sent to know why he should make a smoke as if he were burning a corpse, when her son must be returning with his bride. Soon she heard the clash of arms; the Solankis had entered and fired the town, and the bridal party appeared before success was attained. Spears and swords were plied. “’Ware the bull!” (sand), said the Madrecha, as he encountered his foe. “My name is the lion (singh) who will [691] devour the bull,” replied the Solanki. The contest was fierce, but the Madrechas were slain, and in the morn Prithiraj was put in possession of Desuri. He drew out a grant upon the spot, inserting in it a curse against any of Sesodia blood who might break the bond which had restored the Rathor authority in Godwar. Although seventeen generations have passed since this event, the feud has continued between the descendants of the lion of Sodhgarh and the bull of Desuri, though the object of dissension is alienated from both.

=The Chief of Ghānērāo. The Rājputs of Mewār and Mārwār compared.=—I could well have dispensed with visits this day, the thermometer being 96°; I was besides devoured with inflammatory cold; but there was no declining another polite visit of the chieftain of Ghanerao. His retinue afforded a good opportunity of contrasting the Sesodia Rajput of fertile Mewar with the Rathors of Marwar, and which on the whole would have been favourable to the latter, if we confined our view to those of the valley of Udaipur, or the mountainous region of its southern limit, where climate and situation are decidedly unfavourable. There the Rajput may be said not only to deteriorate in muscular form and strength, but in that fairness of complexion which distinguishes him from the lower orders of Hindus. But the danger of generalizing on such matters will be apparent when it is known that there is a cause continually operating to check and diminish the deteriorating principle arising from the climate and situation (or, as the Rajput would say, from the hawa pani, ‘air and water’) of these unhealthy tracts; namely, the continual influx of the purest blood from every region in Rajputana: and the stream which would become corrupt if only flowing from the commingling of the Chondawats of Salumbar and the Jhalas of Gogunda (both mountainous districts), is refreshed by that of the Rathors of Godwar, the Chauhans of Haraoti, or the Bhatti of the desert. I speak from conviction, the chieftains above mentioned affording proofs of the evil resulting from such repeated intermarriages; for, to use their own adage, “a raven will produce a raven.” But though the personal appearance of the chieftain of Gogunda might exclude him from the table of the sixteen barons of Mewar, his son by a Rathor mother may be exhibited as a redeeming specimen of the Jhalas, and one in every way favourable of the Rajput of Mewar. On such occasion, also, as a formal visit, both chieftain and retainers appear under every advantage of dress and decoration; for even the form of the turban may improve the contour of the face, though [692] the Mertias of Ghanerao have nothing so decidedly peculiar in this way as those of other clans.

After some discourse on the history of past days, with which, like every respectable Rajput, I found him perfectly conversant, the Ghanerao chief took his leave with some courteous and friendly expressions. It is after such a conversation that the mind disposed to reflection will do justice to the intelligence of these people: I do not say this with reference to the baron of Ghanerao, but taking them generally. If by history we mean the relation of events in succession, with an account of the leading incidents connecting them, then are all the Rajputs versed in this science; for nothing is more common than to hear them detail their immediate ancestry or that of their prince for many generations, with the events which have marked their societies. It is immaterial whether he derives this knowledge from the chronicle, the chronicler, or both: it not only rescues him from the charge of ignorance, but suggests a comparison between him and those who constitute themselves judges of nationalities by no means unfavourable to the Rajput.

=Godwār.=—October 28.—Marched at daybreak. The Thakur sent a confidential vassal to accompany me through his domain. We could now look around us, as we receded from the Alpine Aravalli, with nothing to obstruct the vision, over the fertile plains of Godwar. We passed near Ghanerao, whose isolated portals, without tower or curtain to connect them, have a most humiliating appearance. It is to Raja Bhim, some twenty years ago, that their chieftains owe this degradation, in order to lessen their ability to recover the province for its ancient master the Rana. It was indeed one of the gems of his crown, as it is the only dazzling one in that of Marwar. While we marched over its rich and beautiful plains, well watered, well wooded, and abounding in fine towns, I entered into conversation with the Rana’s envoy, who joined me on the march. Kishandas has already been mentioned as one of the few men of integrity and wisdom who had been spared to be useful to his country. He was a mine of ancient lore, and his years, his situation, and his character gave force to his sentiments of determined independence. He was as quick as touchwood, which propensity occasionally created a wordy war between me and my friend, who knew my respect for him. “Restore us Godwar,” was his abrupt salutation as he joined me on the march: to which, being a little vexed, as the point could not be agitated by our government, I said in reply, “Why did you [693] let them take it?—where has the Sesodia sword slept this half century?” Adding, “God Almighty never intended that the region on this side the mountains should belong to Mewar;—nature’s own hand has placed the limit between you.” The old envoy’s blood was roused as he exclaimed, “Even on this principle Godwar is ours, for nature has marked our limit by stronger features than mountains. Observe, as you advance, and you will find to the further limit of the province every shrub and flower common to Mewar; pass that limit but a few yards, and they are lost:

“Ānwal, ānwal Mewār: Bāwal, bāwal Mārwār.

“Wherever the anwal puts forth its yellow blossoms, the land is of right ours; we want nothing more. Let them enjoy their stunted babuls, their karil, and the ak; but give us back our sacred pipal, and the anwal of the border.”[4.26.21] In truth, the transition is beyond credence marked: cross but a shallow brook, and you leave all that is magnificent in vegetation; the pipal, bar, and that species of the mimosa resembling the cypress, peculiar to Godwar, are exchanged for the prickly shrubs, as the wild caper, jawas, and many others, more useful than ornamental, on which the camel browses.[4.26.22] The argument was, however, more ingenious than just, and the old envoy was here substituting the effect for the cause; but he shall explain in his own words why Flora should be permitted to mark the line of demarcation instead of the rock-enthroned (Durga) Cybele. The legend now repeated is historical, and the leading incidents of it have already been touched upon;[4.26.23] I shall therefore condense the Pancholi’s description into a summary analysis of the cause why the couplet of the bard should be deemed “confirmation strong” of the bounds of kingdoms. These traditionary couplets, handed down from generation to generation, are the most powerful evidence of the past, and they are accordingly employed to illustrate the Khyats, or annals, of Rajputana. When, towards the conclusion of the fourteenth century, the founder of the Chondawats repaid the meditated treachery of Ranmall of Mandor by his death, he took possession of that capital and the entire country of the Rathors (then but of small extent), which he held for several years. The heir of Mandor became a fugitive, concealing himself in the fastnesses of the Aravalli, with little hope that [694] his name (Jodha) would become a patronymic, and that he would be honoured as the second founder of his country: that Mandor itself should be lost in Jodhpur. The recollection of the feud was almost extinct; the young Rana of Chitor had passed the years of Rajput minority, and Jodha continued a fugitive in the wilds of Bhandak-parao, with but a few horse in his train, indebted to the resources of some independents of the desert for the means of subsistence. He was discovered in this retreat by a Charan or bard, who, without aspiring to prophetic powers, revealed to him that the intercession of the queen-mother of Chitor had determined the Rana to restore him to Mandor. Whether the sister of Jodha, to give éclat to the restoration, wished it to have the appearance of a conquest, or whether Jodha, impatient for possession, took advantage of circumstances to make his entrance one of triumph, and thereby redeem the disgrace of a long and humiliating exile, it is difficult to decide; for while the annals of Mewar make the restoration an act of grace, those of Marwar give it all the colours of a triumph. Were the point worthy of discussion, we should say both accounts were correct. The Rana had transmitted the recall of Chonda from Mandor, but concealed from him the motive, and while Jodha even held in his possession the Rana’s letter of restoration, a concatenation of circumstances, in which “the omen” was predominant, occurred to make him anticipate his induction by a measure more consonant to the Rajput, a brilliant coup de main. Jodha had left his retreat in the Run[4.26.34] to make known to Harbuji Sankhla, Pabuji, and other rievers of the desert, the changes which the bard had communicated. While he was there, intelligence was brought that Chonda, in obedience to his sovereign’s command, had proceeded to Chitor. That same night “the bird of omen perched on Jodha’s lance, and the star which irradiated his birth shone bright upon it.” The bard of Mandor revealed the secret of heaven to Jodha, and the heroes in his train: “Ere that star descends in the west, your pennon will wave on the battlements of Mandor.” Unless, however, this “vision of glory” was merely mental, Jodha’s star must have been visible in daylight; for they could never have marched from the banks of the Luni, where the Sankhla resided, to Mandor, between its rising and setting. The elder son of Chonda had accompanied his father, and they had proceeded two coss in their [695] journey, when a sudden blaze appeared in Mandor: Chonda pursued his route, while his son Manja returned to Mandor. Jodha was already in possession; his an had been proclaimed, and the two other sons of Chonda had fallen in its defence. Manja, who fled, was overtaken and slain on the border. These tidings reached Chonda at the pass of the Aravalli; he instantly returned to Mandor, where he was met by Jodha, who showed him the letters of surrender for Mandor, and a command that he should fix with him the future boundary of each State. Chonda thought that there was no surer line of demarcation than that chalked out by the hand of nature; and he accordingly fixed that wherever the “yellow blossom” was found, the land should belong to his sovereign, and the bard was not slow in perpetuating the decree. Such is the origin of

Ānwal, ānwal Mewār: Bāwal, bāwal Mārwār.

The brave and loyal founder of the Chondawats, who thus sacrificed his revenge to his sovereign’s commands, had his feelings in some degree propitiated by this arrangement, which secured the entire province of Godwar to his prince: his son Manja fell, as he touched the region of the anwalas, and this cession may have been in ‘mundkati,’ the compromise of the price of blood. By such traditional legends, not less true than strange, and to which the rock sculptures taken from Mandor bear evidence, even to the heroes who aided Jodha in his enterprise, the anwal of the Rajputs has been immortalized, like the humble broom of the French, whose planta-genesta has distinguished the loftiest name in chivalry, the proudest race emblazoned on the page of heraldry.

Notwithstanding the crops had been gathered, this tract contrasted favourably with Mewar, although amidst a comparative prosperity we could observe the traces of rapine; and numerous stories were rehearsed of the miseries inflicted on the people by the rapacious followers of Amir Khan. We crossed numerous small streams flowing from the Aravalli, all proceeding to join the “Salt River,” or Luni. The villages were large and more populous; yet was there a dulness, a want of that hilarity which pervaded the peasantry of Mewar, in spite of their misfortunes. The Rajputs partook of the feeling, the cause of which a little better acquaintance with their headquarters soon revealed. Mewar had passed through the period [696] of reaction, which in Marwar was about to display itself, and was left unfortunately to its own control, or with only the impulse of a long suppressed feeling of revenge in the bosom of its prince, and the wiles of a miscreant minister, who wished to keep him in durance, and the country in degradation.

=Nādol.=—It creates a refreshing sensation to find the camp pitched in a cool and shaded spot; and at Nadol[4.26.35] we had this satisfaction. Here again there was no time for recreation, for there was abundant, nay, overwhelming matter both for the pen and the pencil; but my readers must be satisfied with the imperfect delineations of the first. Nadol is still a place of some consequence, though, but for its temples, we should not have supposed it to have been the capital of a province. With its neighbour, Narlai, five miles to the westward, it was the abode of a branch of the Chauhans of Ajmer, established at a very early period. From Nadol sprung the Deoras of Sirohi, and the Sonigiras of Jalor. The former still maintain their ground, in spite of all attempts of the Rathors; but the Sonigira, who was immortalized by his struggle against the second Ala, is blotted from the list of independent States; and this valuable domain, consisting of three hundred and sixty towns, is now incorporated with Jodhpur.

There is no spot in Rajputana that does not contain some record of the illustrious Chauhan; and though every race has had its career of glory, the sublimity of which, the annals of the Sesodias before the reader sufficiently attest, yet with all my partiality for those with whom I long resided, and with whose history I am best acquainted, my sense of justice compels me to assign the palm of martial intrepidity to the Chauhan over all the “royal races” of India. Even the bards, to whatever family they belong, appear to articulate the very name as if imbued with some peculiar energy, and dwell on its terminating nasal with peculiar complacency. Although they had always ranked high in the list of chivalry, yet the seal of the order was stamped on all who have the name of Chauhan, since the days of Prithiraj, the model of every Rajput, and who had a long line of fame to maintain. Of the many names familiar to the bard is Guga of Bhatinda, who with forty-seven sons “drank of the stream of the sword” on the banks of the Sutlej, in opposing Mahmud.[4.26.36] This conqueror proceeded through the desert to the attack of Ajmer, the chief abode of this race, where his arms were disgraced, the invader wounded, and forced to relinquish his enterprise [697]. In his route to Nahrwala and Somnath he passed Nadol,[4.26.37] whose prince hesitated not to measure his sword even with Mahmud. I was fortunate enough to obtain an inscription regarding this prince, the celebrated Lakha, said to be the founder of this branch from Ajmer, of which it was a fief—its date S. 1039 (A.D. 983).[4.26.38] The fortress attributed to Lakha is on the declivity of a low ridge to the westward of the town, with square towers of ancient form, and built of a very curious conglomerate of granite and gneiss, of which the rock on which it stands is composed. There was a second inscription, dated S. 1024 (A.D. 968), which made him the contemporary of the Rana’s ancestor, Sakti Kumar of Aitpur, a city also destroyed, more probably by the father of Mahmud. The Chauhan bards speak in very lofty terms of Rao Lakha, who “collected transit dues from the further gate of Anhilwara, and levied tribute from the prince of Chitor.”

=Remains at Nādol.=—It is impossible to do full justice to the architectural remains, which are well worthy of the pencil. Here everything shows that the Jain faith was once predominant, and that their arts, like their religion, were of a character quite distinct from those of Siva. The temple of Mahavira, the last of their twenty-four apostles, is a very fine piece of architecture. Its vaulted roof is a perfect model of the most ancient style of dome in the East; probably invented anterior to the Roman. The principle is no doubt the same as the first substitute of the arch, and is that which marked the genius of Caesar in his bridge over the Rhone, and which appears over every mountain torrent of the ancient Helvetii, from whom he may have borrowed it.[4.26.39] The principle is that of a horizontal instead of a radiating pressure. At Nadol the stones are placed by a gradual projection one over the other, the apex being closed by a circular key-stone. The angles of all these projections being rounded off, the spectator looking up can only describe the vault as a series of gradually diminishing amulets or rings converging to the apex. The effect is very pleasing, though it furnishes a strong argument that the Hindus first became acquainted with the perfect arch through their conquerors. The toran, in front of the altar of Mahavira, is exquisitely sculptured, as well as several statues of marble, discovered about one hundred and fifty years ago in the bed of the river, when it changed its course. It is not unlikely that they were buried during Mahmud’s invasion. But [698] the most singular structure of Nadol is a reservoir, called the chana ki baoli, from the cost of it being paid by the return of a single grain of pulse (chana). The excavation is immense; the descent is by a flight of grey granite steps, and the sides are built up from the same materials by piling blocks upon blocks of enormous magnitude, without the least cement.

=Inscriptions and Coins.=—My acquisitions here were considerable. Besides copies of inscriptions made by my Sanskrit scribes, I obtained two originals on brass. Of one of these, dated S. 1218, the memorial of Alandeva, I append a translation,[4.26.40] which may be considered curious as a formula of endowment of the Jains. I likewise procured several isolated MS. leaves of very great value, relative to the thirty-six royal races, to the ancient geography of India, and to the founding of ancient cities; also a catalogue of longevity of plants and animals, and an extract from a work concerning the descendants of Srenika and Samprati, the potent princes of the Jain faith between Mahavira and Vikrama. However meagre these fragments may be, I have incorporated their contents into my mosaic. I also made valuable additions to my collection of medals, for I obtained coins of Mahmud, Balban, and Ala, surnamed Khuni, or ‘the sanguinary’; and another of a conqueror equally meriting that title, Nadir Shah. But these were of little consequence compared with what one of my envoys brought from Narlai—a small bag full of curious hieroglyphical (if I may so use the term) medals of the Chauhan princes.[4.26.41] One side represents a warrior on horseback, compounded out of a character to which I have applied the above term; on some there was a bull; while others, retaining the original reverse, have on the obverse the titles of the first Islamite conquerors, in the same manner as the currency of France bears the effigies of Louis XVI. and the emblems of the Republic. Whoever will pay a visit to Nadol will find his labour amply rewarded; I had only leisure to glean a few of these relics, which yet formed a rich harvest. Narlai, Bali, Desuri, Sadri, all ancient seats of the Jains, will yield medals, MSS., and rare specimens of the architectural art. From Abu to Mandor, the antiquary might fill many portfolios, and collect matter for volumes of the ancient history of this people, for this is the cradle of their faith. That I was enabled to obtain so much during a rapid march through the country arose partly from previous [699] knowledge, partly from the extent of my means, for I had flying detachments to the right and left of my route, consisting of intelligent natives of each city, accompanied by pandits for deciphering, and others for collecting whatever was the object of research; who, at the close of each day, brought me the fruits of their inquiries. When any remarkable discovery was made, I followed it up in person, or by sending those in whom I could confide. This is not mentioned from a spirit of egotism, but to incite others to the pursuit by showing the rewards which await such research.

=Indara.=—October 29.—Camp at Indara, eleven miles. This small town, placed on the north bank of one of the nameless feeders of the ‘salt river,’ is the boundary of Godwar; here the reign of the yellow anwal terminates, and here commences Marusthali, or ‘the region of death.’ The transition is great. We can look back upon fertility, and forward on aridity, which does not, however, imply sterility: for that cunning artist, nature, compensates the want of verdure and foliage to the inhabitants of the desert by many spontaneous bounties. An entire race of cucurbitaceous plants is the eleemosynary equivalent for the mango and exotics of the central lands of Rajputana; while indigenous poverty sends forth her commercial sons from Osi, Pali, and Pokaran, to bring wealth from the Ganges and the Kistna, to the Luni, or to the still more remote oasis, Jaisalmer. From Indara everything assumed a new character: the sand, of which we had before scarcely a sprinkling, became occasionally heavy; the shallow beds of the numerous streams were white with saline incrustations; and the vegetable creation had been gradually diminishing, from the giant race of the sacred fig-tree with leaf “broad as Amazonian targe,” to the dwarfish shrubs of the desert. At once the satiric stanza of the bard of a more favoured region was brought to my mind, and as I repeated it to my old friend the Rana’s envoy, he enjoyed the confession, and afresh urged his wish that nature should decide the question of their boundaries:

_Āk ra jhonpra, Phog ra vār, Bājra ri roti, Motham hari dāl, Dekho ho Raja, teri Marwar._

‘Huts of the āk, Barriers of thorns, Bread of maize, Lentils of the vetch, Behold Raja, your Marwar!’ [700].

=Construction of Villages.=—The villages are of a construction totally distinct from anything we have seen, and more approaching the wigwam of the western world. Every commune is surrounded with a circumvallation of thorns, kanta ka kot, and the stacks of bhus, or ‘chaff,’ which are placed at intervals, give it the appearance of a respectable fortification. These bhus stacks are erected to provide provender for the cattle in scanty rainy seasons, when the parched earth denies grass, or full crops of maize. They are erected to the height of twenty or thirty feet, coated with a cement of earth and cow-dung, and with a sprinkling of thorns, to prevent the fowls of the air from reposing in them. In this manner, with a little fresh coating, they will exist ten years, being only resorted to on emergencies, when the kine may be said to devour the village walls. Their appearance is a great relief to the monotony of the march through the desert; which, however, cannot strictly be said to commence till you cross the Luni.

=Pāli.=—October 30.—A long march of twenty-one miles, in which there was little to record, brought us to Pali, the great commercial mart of western Rajwara. Like everything else in these regions it bore the marks of rapine; and as in the civil wars of this State its possession was of great importance to either party, the fortifications were razed at the desire of the inhabitants, who did not admire the noise of war within their gates. From the same feeling, when it was proposed to gird the sister mart, Bhilwara, with walls, the opposition to it was universal. The remnants of the walls lend it an air of desolation.[4.26.42] The town is overrated at ten thousand houses. As an emporium its reputation is of ancient date: and, politically, it is connected with the establishment of the reigning family in these regions. A community of Brahmans then held Pali in grant from the princes of Mandor: whence comes a numerous class, termed Paliwal, who follow mercantile pursuits. It was in S. 1212 (A.D. 1156) that Siahji, the founder of the Rathor dynasty and son to the emperor of Kanauj, passed Pali on his return from a pilgrimage from Dwarka to the Ganges. The Brahmans sent a deputation to relieve them from two great enemies to their repose, namely, the Minas of the Aravalli, and the lions, which had become very numerous. Siahji relieved them from both; but the opportunity “to acquire land” was too good to be lost, and on the festival of the Holi he put the leading Brahmans to death, and took possession of Pali.

=The Commerce of Pāli.=—Commerce, in these regions, is the basis of liberty: even despotism is [701] compelled to leave it unrestrained. Pali, like Bhilwara, Jhalrapatan, Rani, and other marts, enjoys the right of electing its own magistrates, both for its municipal regulations, and the arbitration of all matters connected with commercial pursuits. It was commerce which freed Europe from the bondage of feudality; and the towns above cited only require the same happy geographical position, to play the part of the Hanse towns of Europe. Like Bhilwara, Pali has its own currency, which, amidst universal deterioration, it has retained undebased. From remote times, Pali has been the connecting link between the sea-coast and northern India. Commercial houses established at Muskat-Mandavi, Surat, and Navanagar transmit the products of Persia, Arabia, Africa, and Europe, receiving those of India and Thibet. To enumerate all the articles, it would be necessary to name the various products of each: from the coast, elephants’ teeth, rhinoceros’ hides, copper, tin, pewter, dates dried and moist,[4.26.43] of which there is an immense consumption in these regions; gum-arabic, borax, coco-nuts, broad-cloths, striped silks, called patang; various dyes, particularly the kermes or crimson; drugs, especially the oxides of arsenic and quicksilver; spices, sandal-wood, camphor, tea, momiai or mummy,[4.26.44] which is much sought after in medicine, and green glass (kanch). From Bahawalpur, soda (sajji),[4.26.45] the dyes called al[4.26.46] and majith,[4.26.47] matchlocks, dried fruits, asafoetida, Multan chintzes, and wood for household furniture. From Kotah and Malwa, opium and chintzes. From Jaipur, various cloths and sugars. From Bhuj, swords and horses.

To face page 812.

The exports of home production are the two staple articles of salt and woollens; to which we may add coarse cotton cloths, and paper made in the town of Pali. The lois, or blankets, are disseminated throughout India, and may be had at from four to sixty rupees per pair; scarfs and turbans are made of the same material, but not for exportation. But salt is the chief article of export, and the duties arising therefrom equal half the land revenue of the country. Of the agars, or ‘salt lakes,’ Pachbhadra, Phalodi, and Didwana are the principal, the first being several miles in circuit [702].

The commercial duties of Pali yielded 75,000 rupees annually, a large sum in a poor country like Marwar.

=Chāran and Bhāt Carriers.=—The Charans and Bhats, or bards and genealogists, are the chief carriers of these regions: their sacred character overawes the lawless Rajput chief; and even the savage Koli and Bhil, and the plundering Sahariya of the desert, dread the anathema of these singular races, who conduct the caravans through the wildest and most desolate regions. The traveller avails himself of such convoy who desires to proceed to the coast by Jalor, Bhinmal, Sanchor, and Radhanpur, whence he may pursue his route to Surat, or Muskat-Mandavi.

=Pungiri Temple.=—To the east of Pali about ten miles, there is an isolated hill, called Pungiri, ‘the hill of virtue,’ which is crowned with a small temple, said to have been conveyed by a Buddhist magician from Palitana in Saurashtra. Wherever this ancient and numerous sect exists, magical skill is always asserted. Here we found our old friend, Gough, who had been rambling to the south-west amongst Sahariya, Khosas,[4.26.48] and all the wild beings of these uncivilized tracts, in search of new breeds of horses. Halted to enjoy his society.

Kairla, 30th.

Rohat, 31st.

=Khānkāni.=—November 1.—Khankani, on the north bank of the Luni. There was nothing to arrest attention between Pali and the Luni: all is flat and lonely in the thirty miles which intervene. Our halts were at Kairla, which has two small salt lakes, whence its name; in fact, this superabundant product, khar, or salt, gives its name to streams and towns. Both Kairla and Rohat, the intermediate places of halt, are feudal estates, and both chiefs had been involved in the recent civil dissensions: Rohat was under the ban.

=Bhāt Customs. Coercion by Threat of Human Sacrifice.=—Here I had an exemplification of the vulgar adage, “two of a trade,” etc. Pema Naik, the leader of one of the largest tandas, or caravans, which frequent the desert for salt, had left his convoy, and with his brethren came to exhibit his wounds and fractures received in a fray with the leaders of another caravan. Both were Bhats; Pema was the head of the Bamania Bhats, so called from the place of their abode, and he counted forty thousand beasts of burthen under his control. Shama had no distinctive epithet: he had no home separate from [703] his tanda. His little State when not in motion was on the highways; hence those who dwell entirely with their cattle are styled upapanti, ‘on the road.’ Shama had taken advantage of the greater portion of Pema’s caravan being detached to revenge an ancient feud; and had shown himself quite an adept in club-law, as the broken heads of his opponents disclosed. To reconcile them was impossible; and as the case was to be decided, not by the scales of abstract justice but by calculating which contributed most in duties, Pema by this summary process, more than from sympathy to his wounded honour, gained a victory by the exclusion of his rival. As before observed, these classes take advantage of their sacred character amongst the Rajputs to become the general carriers of the country: but the advantage which might result to the State from the respect paid to them is neutralized by their avarice and constant evasion of the payment of all established duties. A memorable example of this kind occurred during the reign of Amra the First with the ancestor of this same Pema. The Rana would not submit to the insolent demands of the Bhats, when they had recourse to one of the most sanguinary sacrifices ever recorded—the threat alone of which is generally sufficient to extort acquiescence and concession. But the firmness of Amra has been recorded: and he braved them. Collecting the elder portion of their community, men, women, and youths of both sexes, they made a sacrifice to the number of eighty souls with their daggers in the court of the palace. The blood of the victims was on the Rana’s head.[4.26.49] It was a species of excommunication, which would have unsettled a weaker reason; for the Rajput might repose after the murder of a Brahman, but that of the prophetic Vates would rise against him here and hereafter. For once they encountered a mind too strong to be shaken; Amra banished the whole fraternity of Bamania Bhats from his dominions, and the town of Bamani reverted to the fisc. The edict remained uncancelled until these days, when amongst the industrious of all classes whom the proclamations[4.26.50] brought once more to Mewar, came Pema and his brethren. Although tradition had preserved the causes of their exile, it had made no alteration in their sentiments and opinions, and the dagger was always at hand, to be sheathed in their own flesh whenever provocation called it from the girdle. Pema beset the Rana in all his rides, demanding a reduction [704] or rather abolition of duties for his tanda; and at length he took up a position on the terrace fronting the ‘balcony of the sun,’ threatening a chandni,[4.26.51] for such is the term applied to this suicidal revenge. The Rana, who had not the nerve of his ancestor, sent to me to beseech my interference: with his messenger, one from me returned to invite the Bhats to a settlement. They came, as fine, robust, intrepid a set as I ever saw. We soon came to issue: I urged that duties must be paid by all who chose to frequent the passes of Mewar, and that they would get nothing by their present silly mode of endeavouring to obtain remission; that if they would give a written agreement to abide by the scale of duties laid down, they should receive exemption for five hundred out of the forty thousand bullocks of their tanda, and be reinducted into Bamani; if not, there were daggers (showing them some on the table), and they might begin as soon as they pleased. I added that, in addition to Rana Amra’s penalty of banishment, I would recommend confiscation of their entire caravan. Pema was no fool: he accepted Bamani, and the muafi for five hundred, and that day received his gold bracelets and clothes of investiture for Bamani from the Rana.

=Jhālamand.=—November 2.—Jhalamand, ten miles. Although within one march of Jodhpur, we were obliged to make an intermediate halt, in order to arrange the ceremonials of reception; a grave matter with all the magnates of the East, who regulate all such affairs by slavish precedent and ancestral wisdom. On such a novel occasion as the reception of an English envoy at this desert court, they were a good deal puzzled how to act. They could very well comprehend how an ambassador direct from majesty should be received, and were not unfamiliar with the formula to be observed towards a viceregal legation. But the present case was an anomaly: the Governor of all India, of course, could appear only as the first servant of a commercial body, which, with whatever privileges invested, never could be made to rank with royalty or its immediate emanation. Accordingly, this always proved a clog to our diplomatic missions, until the diffusion of our power from the Indus to the ocean set speculation at rest on the formalities of reception of the Company’s ambassadors. On the other hand, the eternal rotation of military adventurers enjoying ephemeral power, such as the commanders of the myrmidons of Sindhia and Holkar, compelled all the Rajput princes to forgo much of their dignity; and men like Amir Khan, Jean Baptiste, or Bapu Sindhia, who but a [705] short time ago would have deemed themselves honoured with a seat in the ante-chamber, claimed equality of reception with princes. Each made it a subject for boasting, how far he had honoured himself by the humiliation of the descendant of the emperor of Kanauj, or the scion of Rama. At the same time, as the world is always deceived by externals, it was difficult to concede a reception less distinguished than that granted to the leader of a Mahratta horde; and here their darling precedent was available. To what distance did the Raja send the istikbal to meet Amir Khan? what was the rank of the chieftains so deputed? and to what point did the “offspring of the sun” condescend to advance in person to receive this “lord of the period”? All these, and many similar questions, were propounded through the Wakil, who had long been with me, to his sovereign, to whose presence he proceeded in order that they might be adjusted, while I halted at Jhalamand, only five miles from the capital. However individually we may despise these matters, we have no option, as public servants, but to demand the full measure of honour for those we represent. As the present would also regulate future receptions, I was compelled to urge that the Raja would best consult his own dignity by attending to that of the government I represented, and distinctly signified that it could never be tolerated that he should descend to the very foot of his castle to honour Amir Khan, and await the English envoy almost on the threshold of his palace. It ended, as such matters generally do in those countries, by a compromise: it was stipulated that the Raja should receive the mission in his palki or litter, at the central barrier of descent.[4.26.52] These preliminaries being arranged, we left Jhalamand in the afternoon, that we might not derange the habits of slumber of those who were to conduct us to the capital. About half-way we were met by the great feudatory chieftains of Pokaran and Nimaj, then lords of the ascendant, and the joint advisers of their sovereign. We dismounted, embraced, complimented each other in the customary phraseology; then remounted, and rode together until we reached the tents, where, after I had requested them to be the bearers of my homage to their sovereign, we mutually saluted and parted.

=The Chief of Pokaran.=—Salim Singh[4.26.53] was the name of the lord of Pokaran, the most wealthy and the [706] most powerful of all the baronies of Marwar. His castle and estate (wrested from Jaisalmer) are in the very heart of the desert; the former is strong both by position and art. It is a family which has often shaken the foundation of the throne of Marwar. During four generations have its bold and turbulent chiefs made the most resolute of these monarchs tremble. Deo Singh, the great grandfather of the present chief, used to sleep in the hall of the royal palace, with five hundred of his Champawats, of which clan he is the chief. “The throne of Marwar is within the sheath of my dagger,” was the boast, as elsewhere mentioned, of this haughty noble to his sovereign. His son, Sabal Singh, followed his father’s steps, and even dethroned the great Bijai Singh: a cannon-shot relieved the prince from this terror of his reign. Sawai Singh, his son and successor, acted the same part towards Raja Bhim, and was involved in the civil wars which commenced in 1806, when he set up the pretender, Dhonkal Singh. The catastrophe of Nagor, in which Amir Khan acted the assassin of the Champawat and all his associates, relieved Raja Man from the evil genius of his house; and the honours this prince heaped on the son of the Champawat, in giving him the first office in the State, were but a trap to ensnare him. From this he escaped, or his life and the honours of Pokaran would have been lost together. Such is a rapid sketch of the family of the chief who was deputed to meet me. He was about thirty-five years of age; his appearance, though not prepossessing, was dignified and commanding. In person he was tall, but more powerful than athletic; his features were good, but his complexion was darker than in general amongst the chieftains of Marwar.

=The Chief of Nīmāj.=—His companion, and associate in the councils of his prince, was in every point of personal appearance the reverse of this portrait. Surthan Singh was chief of the Udawats, a clan which can muster four thousand swords, all residing on the land skirting the Aravalli; and of which his residence Nimaj,[4.26.54] Raepur, and Chandawal are the principal fiefs. Surthan was a fine specimen of the Rajput; his figure tall and graceful; his complexion fair; his deportment manly and mild; in short, he was a thorough gentleman in appearance, understanding, and manners.

It would be impossible to relate here all the causes which involved him in the catastrophe from which his coadjutor escaped. It was the misfortune of Surthan to have been associated with Salim Singh; but his past services to his prince amply counterbalanced this party bias. It was he who prevented his sovereign from [707] sheathing a dagger in his heart on the disgraceful day at Parbatsar; and he was one of the four chieftains of all Marwar who adhered to his fortunes when beset by the united force of Rajputana. He was also one of the same four who redeemed the spoils of their country from the hands of the multitudinous array which assaulted Jodhpur in 1806, and whose fate carried mourning into every house of Rajasthan.[4.26.55] The death of Surthan Singh was a prodigal sacrifice, and caused a sensation of universal sorrow, in which I unfeignedly participated. His gallant bearing was the theme of universal admiration; nor can I give a better or a juster idea of the chivalrous Rajput than by inserting a literal translation of the letter conveying the account of his death, about eight months after my visit to Jodhpur.

“Jodhpur, 2d Asarh, or 28th June 1820.

“On the last day of Jeth (the 26th June), an hour before daybreak, the Raja sent the Aligols,[4.26.56] and all the quotas of the chiefs, to the number of eight thousand men, to attack Surthan Singh. They blockaded his dwelling in the city, upon which for three watches they kept up a constant fire of great guns and small arms. Surthan, with his brother Sur Singh, and his kindred and clan, after a gallant defence, at length sallied forth, attacked the foreigners sword in hand, and drove them back. But who can oppose their prince with success? The odds were too great, and both brothers fell nobly. Nagoji and forty of the bravest of the clan fell with the Thakur brothers, and forty were severely wounded. Eighty, who remained, made good their retreat with their arms to Nimaj.[4.26.57] Of the Raja’s troops, forty were killed on the spot, and one hundred were wounded. Twenty of the townsfolk suffered in the fray.

“The Pokaran chief, hearing of this, saddled; but the Maharaja sent Sheonath Singh of Kuchaman, the chief of Bhadrajan, and others, to give him confidence, and induce him to stay; but he is most anxious to get away. My nephew and fifteen of my followers were slain on this occasion. The Nimaj chief fell as became a Rathor. The world exclaims ‘applause,’ and both Hindu and Turk say he met [708] his death nobly. Sheonath Singh, Bakhtawar Singh, Rup Singh, and Anar Singh,[4.26.58] performed the funeral rites.”

Such is the Rajput, when the point of honour is at stake! Not a man of his clan would have surrendered while their chief lived to claim their lives; and those who retreated only preserved them for the support of the young lord of the Udawats [709]!

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Footnote 4.26.1:

Meru is ‘a [fabulous] mountain’ in Sanskrit; Merawat and Merot, ‘of or belonging to the mountain.’ I have before remarked that the name of the Albanian mountaineer, Mainote, has the same signification. I know not the etymology of Mina, of which the Mer is a branch. [Needless to say, whatever the meaning of the title Mer may be, it has no connexion with Mt. Meru. The traditions of the Mers point to Mīna ancestry. For the Mīna tribe see Rose, Glossary, iii. 102 ff.; Watson, Rajputāna Gazetteer, i. A. 29 ff.]

Footnote 4.26.2:

I had hoped to have embodied these subjects with, and thereby greatly to have increased the interest, of my work; but just as Lord Hastings had granted my request, that an individual eminently qualified for those pursuits should join me, a Higher Power deemed it fit to deny what had been long near my heart.

The individual, John Tod, was a cousin of my own, and possessed an intellect of the highest order. He was only twenty-two years of age when he died, and had only been six months in India. He was an excellent classical scholar, well versed in modern languages and every branch of natural history. His manners, deportment, and appearance were all in unison with these talents. Had it pleased the Almighty to have spared him, this work would have been more worthy of the public notice. [An officer named Tod was murdered at Nāhar Magra, near Udaipur, in May 1804 (Malcolm, Memoir Central India, 2nd ed. i. 237).]

Footnote 4.26.3:

[The Mers are supposed to be a foreign tribe, like the Gurjaras and Mālavas, which passed into Kāthiāwār through the Panjāb, Sind, and N. Gujarāt (BG, i. Part i. 136 ff.; Elliot-Dowson i. 519 ff.).]

Footnote 4.26.4:

I cannot discover by what part of the range the invasion of Mandor was attempted; it might have been the pass we are now in, for it is evident it was not from the frontier of Ajmer.

Footnote 4.26.5:

Laj is properly ‘shame,’ which word is always used in lieu of honour: laj rakho, ‘preserve my shame,’ i.e. my honour from shame.

Footnote 4.26.6:

Parbat Vira.

Footnote 4.26.7:

The Parihar prince bestowed this epithet merely in compliment.

Footnote 4.26.8:

Sindhu Raga.

Footnote 4.26.9:

[The sacred Jain mountain in Kāthiāwār.]

Footnote 4.26.10:

With two (do) edges (dhara).

Footnote 4.26.11:

Sang is the iron lance, either wholly of iron, or having plates for about ten feet; these weapons are much used in combats from camels in the Desert.

Footnote 4.26.12:

‘Sword’—Aswar in the dialect.

Footnote 4.26.13:

[The field guardian deity.]

Footnote 4.26.14:

[For an account of the Mer rebellion in 1820 and its suppression see Watson, Rājputāna Gazetteer, i. A. 14.]

Footnote 4.26.15:

[The 44th Merwāra Infantry, formerly known as the Merwāra Battalion, formed in 1822, did good service in the Mutiny of 1857, and in the Afghān campaign of 1878 (Watson, Gazetteer, i. A. 119 ff.; Cardew, Sketch of the Services of the Bengal Native Army, 338 ff.)].

Footnote 4.26.16:

[No class of Brāhmans or Rājputs, claiming respectability, now permits widow marriage.]

Footnote 4.26.17:

[Nāgda, near the shrine of Eklingji, one of the most ancient places in Mewār.]

Footnote 4.26.18:

[Elsewhere known as Khanjarīt or Khanjan, a well-known bird of omen.]

Footnote 4.26.19:

This term is a compound of bāhar and watan, literally ‘ex patria.’

Footnote 4.26.20:

He ruled from A.D. 1094 to 1143.

Footnote 4.26.21:

[Ānwal, āonla, Phyllanthus emblica; bāwal, babūl, Acacia arabica; karīl, Capparis aphylla; āk, Calotropis gigantea; pīpal, Ficus religiosa.]

Footnote 4.26.22:

[Bar, Ficus bengalensis; jawās, Hedysarum alhagi.]

Footnote 4.26.23:

See p. 325.

Footnote 4.26.34:

An alp, or spot in these mountainous regions, where springs, pasture, and other natural conveniences exist.

Footnote 4.26.35:

[About seventy miles south-south-west of Jodhpur city.]

Footnote 4.26.36:

[Bhatinda, now Govindgarh, in the Patiāla State (IGI, xii. 343). The author’s accounts of Gūga or Gugga are contradictory (see Index, s.v.). For this famous saga see Temple, Legends of the Panjāb, i. 121 ff., iii. 261 ff. The cult of the hero has passed as far south as Gujarāt, his festival being held on 9th dark half of Bhādon (Aug.-Sept.), known as Gūga navami (BG, ix. Part i. 524 f.).]

Footnote 4.26.37:

Ferishta, or his copyist, by a false arrangement of the points, has lost Nadole in Buzule, using the ب for the ن and the ذ for the د. [It was Kutbu-d-dīn who, on his way to Gujarāt, passed the forts of “Tilli and Buzule” (Dow, ed. 1812, i. 147). Briggs (Ferishta i. 196) writes “Baly and Nadole.” In the Tāju-l-Ma-āsir of Hasan Nizāmi the names are given as “Pāli and Nandūl” (Elliot-Dowson ii. 229). This illustrates the difficulty of tracing place names in the Muhammadan historians.]

Footnote 4.26.38:

[Towards the end of the tenth century, Lākhan or Lakshman Singh, a younger brother of Wākpatirāj, the Chauhān Rāja of Sāmbhar, settled at Nādol, and his descendants ruled the territory till their defeat by Kutbu-d-dīn Ibak in 1206-10 (Erskine iii. A. 181 f.).]

Footnote 4.26.39:

[The temple of Mahāvīra contains three inscriptions, dated A.D. 1609, recording its construction from charitable funds. Garrett disputes the author’s reference to Caesar, as the buildings are not superior to many others in Rājputāna (ASR, xxiii. (1887) 93).]

Footnote 4.26.40:

See Appendix, No. VII.]

Footnote 4.26.41:

These will appear more appropriately in a disquisition on Hindu medals found by me in India, in the Transactions of the Royal Asiatic Society. [The well-known “Bull and Horseman” type (IGI, ii. 142 f.).]

Footnote 4.26.42:

[All traces of those walls have disappeared, but in Jūna or ‘Old’ Pāli there are some fine temples (ASR, xxiii. (1887) 86 ff.).]

Footnote 4.26.43:

The kharak and pind khajūr. [Kharak is the stage when the date becomes red or yellow, according to variety; pind, when it is quite ripe (Watt, Econ. Dict. vi. Part i. 205).]

Footnote 4.26.44:

Mom in the language of Egypt signifies ‘wax,’ says some ancient authority: so it is the usual name of that article in Persian. Mummy is probably thence derived. I remember playing a trick on old Silu, our khabardar [spy] at Sindhia’s camp, who had been solicited to obtain a piece of momiai for a chieftain’s wife. As we are supposed to possess everything valuable in the healing art, he would take no refusal; so I substituted a piece of indiarubber. [For the virtues of momiāi see Crooke, Popular Religion and Folklore of N. India, ii. 176 ff.]

Footnote 4.26.45:

[Barilla, Watt, Econ. Prod. 112 f.]

Footnote 4.26.46:

[Morinda citrifolia, ibid. 783 f.]

Footnote 4.26.47:

[Madder, Rubia cordifolia, ibid. 926 f.]

Footnote 4.26.48:

[The Khosa is a Baloch tribe, many of them found in Sind, where, it is said, they were given lands by the Emperor Humāyūn (Census Report, Baluchistan, 1901, i. 95 f.).]

Footnote 4.26.49:

[Numerous instances of this custom among Bhāts will be found in BG, ix. Part i. 209 ff.]

Footnote 4.26.50:

See Vol. I. p. 561.

Footnote 4.26.51:

[Platts (Hindustāni Dict., s.v.) gives chāndni, ‘moonlight’; chāndni mār-jāna, ‘to be moonstruck, paralysed by a stroke of the moon’; chāndni karan, ‘the practice of Brāhmans and others wounding themselves in order to extort the payment of a debt.’ Here the threat is fear of the ghost of the man who took his life. Sir G. Grierson notes that in Gujarāti and Marāthi chāndi karan means ‘to reduce to white ashes,’ hence ‘to ruin or destroy completely.’ Here chāndi, usually meaning ‘silver,’ means ‘anything white,’ and hence ‘white ashes.’ This, he suggests, seems to be a more probable explanation than ‘moonstruck.’]

Footnote 4.26.52:

Mr. Wilder, the superintendent of Ajmer, was deputed by General Sir D. Ochterlony, in December 1818, to the court of Jodhpur, and was very courteously received by the Raja.

Footnote 4.26.53:

The sibilant is the Shibboleth of the Rajput of Western India, and will always detect him. The ‘lion’ (singh) of Pokaran is degraded into ‘asafoetida’ (hing); as Halim Hing. [Pokaran, 85 miles N.W. of Jodhpur city, held by the premier noble of the Champāwat clan of Rāthors.]

Footnote 4.26.54:

[Nīmāj, about 60 miles E.S.E. of Jodhpur city, fief of a noble of the Udāwat Rāthors.]

Footnote 4.26.55:

See Vol. I. p. 539 for the murder of the princess of Udaipur, one of its results.

Footnote 4.26.56:

The mercenary Rohilla battalions, who are like the Walloons and independent companies which formed the first regular armies of Europe. [‘Alīgol, ‘noble troop’ (Yule, Hobson-Jobson, 2nd ed. 15).]

Footnote 4.26.57:

Which they afterwards nobly defended during many months.

Footnote 4.26.58:

The last, a brave and excellent man, was the writer of this letter. He, who had sacrificed all to save his prince, and, as he told me himself, supported him, when proscribed by his predecessor, by the sale of all his property, even to his wife’s jewels, yet became an exile, to save his life from an overwhelming proscription. To the anomalous state of our alliances with these States is to be ascribed many of these mischiefs.

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Chapter 27

=City and Fort of Jodhpur.=—The sand, since we crossed the Luni, had become gradually heavier, and was quite fatiguing as we approached the capital of “the region of death”; but the Marwaris and the camels appeared to move through it as briskly as our men would on the plains of the Ganges. The view before the reader will give a more correct idea of the ‘city of Jodha’ than the most laboured description. The fort is erected on a mole projecting from a low range of hills, so as to be almost isolated, while, being higher than the surrounding objects, it is not commanded. This table-ridge (mountain we can scarcely term it, since its most elevated portion is not more than three hundred feet in height) is a curious feature in these regions of uninterrupted aridity. It is about twenty-five miles in length, and, as far as I could determine from a bird’s-eye view and from report, between two and three in breadth, the capital being placed on the highest part at the southern extremity, and may be said to be detached from it. The northern point, which is the highest, and on which the palace is built, is less than three hundred feet. Everywhere it is scarped, but especially at this point, against which the batteries of the League[4.27.1] were directed in 1806, at least a hundred and twenty feet of perpendicular height. Strong walls and numerous round and square towers encircle the crest of the hill, encompassing a space of great extent, as may be judged from the dimensions of the base, said to be four miles in circuit. Seven barriers are thrown across the circuitous ascent, each having immense portals and their separate guards. There are two small lakes under the walls: the Rani Talab, or ‘Queen’s Lake,’ to the east; and the Gulab Sagar, or ‘Rose-water Sea,’ to the south, from [710] which the garrison draws up water in buckets. There is also inside a kund, or reservoir, about ninety feet in depth, excavated from the rock, which can be filled from these tanks; and there are likewise wells within, but the water is brackish. Within are many splendid edifices, and the Raja’s residence is a succession of palaces, each prince since the founder having left memorials of his architectural taste. The city to the eastward of the citadel is encompassed by a strong wall, three coss, or nearly six miles, in extent, on which a hundred and one bastions or towers are distributed; on the rampart are mounted several rahkalas[4.27.2] or swivels. There are seven gates to the capital, each bearing the name of the city to which it leads. The streets are very regular, and adorned with many handsome edifices of freestone, of which the ridge is composed. The number of families some years ago was stated to be 20,000, probably 80,000 souls, an estimate far too great for the present day.[4.27.3] The Gulab Sagar is the favourite lounge of the inhabitants, who recreate amongst its gardens; and, strange to say, the most incomparable pomegranates (anar) are produced in it, far superior even to those of Kabul, which they resemble in the peculiarity of being be-dana,

‘without grain’: rather a misnomer for a fruit, the characteristic of which is its granulations; but this is in contradistinction to those of India, which are all grain and little pulp. The anars of the Kagli-ka-bagh, or ‘Ravens’ Garden,’ are sent to the most remote parts as presents. Their beautiful ruby tint affords an abundant resource for metaphor to the Rajput bard, who describes it as “sparkling in the ambrosial cup.”[4.27.4]

=Reception by the Rāja.=—On the 4th the Raja received us with due form, advancing beyond the second gate of descent; when, after salutations and greetings, he returned according to etiquette. Giving him time to make his arrangements, we advanced slowly through lines of his clansmen to the upper area, where a display of grandeur met our view for which we were totally unprepared, and far eclipsing the simple and unostentatious state of the Rana. Here everything was imitative of the imperial court of Delhi, where the Rathor, long pre-eminent, had “the right hand of the king of the world.” Lines of gold and silver mace-bearers deafened us with the titles of “Raj-Raj-Iswara!” ‘the king, the lord of kings!’ into whose presence, through mazes of intricate courts filled with his chivalry, all hushed into that mysterious silence which is invariably observed on such occasions, we were at length ushered [711].

=Rāja Mān Singh.=—The King of Maru arose from his throne, and advanced a few paces, when he again courteously received the envoy and suite, who were here introduced. The hall of reception was of great extent: from its numerous square columns it is styled Sahas stambha, ‘the thousand-columned hall.’ They were more massive than elegant; and being placed in parallel rows, at not more than twelve feet from each other, they gave an air of cumbrous, if not clumsy grandeur to an immense apartment, the ceiling of which was very low. About the centre, in a niche or recess, the royal gaddi or ‘cushion’ was placed, over which was raised a richly embroidered canopy, supported by silver-gilt columns. On the Rana’s right hand were placed those whom the king honoured, the chieftains of Pokaran and Nimaj, who would have been less at their ease had they known that all the distinctions they then enjoyed were meshes to ensnare them. Several other chieftains and civil officers, whose names would but little interest the reader, were placed around. The wakil, Bishan Ram, was seated near me, almost in front of the Raja. The conversation was desultory and entirely complimentary; affording, however, abundant opportunity to the Raja to display his proficiency in that mixed language, the Hindustani, which he spoke with great fluency and much greater purity than those who resided about the court at Delhi. In person the Raja is above the common height, possessing considerable dignity of manner, though accompanied by the stiffness of habitual restraint. His demeanour was commanding and altogether princely; but there was an entire absence of that natural majesty and grace which distinguished the prince of Udaipur, who won without exertion our spontaneous homage. The features of Raja Man are good: his eye is full of intelligence; and though the ensemble of his countenance almost denotes benevolence, yet there is ever and anon a doubtful expression, which, with a peculiarly formed forehead, gave a momentary cast of malignity to it. This might have been owing to that deep dissimulation, which had carried him through a trial of several years’ captivity, during which he acted the maniac and the religious enthusiast, until the assumed became in some measure his natural character.

The biography of Man Singh would afford a remarkable picture of human patience, fortitude, and constancy, never surpassed in any age or country. But in this school of adversity he also took lessons of cruelty: he learned therein to master or rather disguise his passions; and though he showed not the ferocity of the tiger, he acquired [712] the still more dangerous attribute of that animal—its cunning. At that very time, not long after he had emerged from his seclusion, while his features were modelled into an expression of complaisant self-content, indicative of a disdain of human greatness, he was weaving his web of destruction for numberless victims who were basking in the sunshine of his favour. The fate of one of them has been already related.[4.27.5]

=Descent of the Rāthors.=—The Rathor, like many other dynasties not confined to the East, claims celestial descent. Of their Bhat, we may say what Gibbon does of the Belgic genealogist who traced the illustrious house of Este from Romulus, that “he riots in all the lust of fiction, and spins from his own bowels a lineage of some thousand years.” We are certain that there were sovereigns of Kanauj in the fifth century, and it is very probable that they ruled there prior to the era of Christianity. But this is accounted nothing by these lovers of antiquity, who never stop short of Swayambhuva,[4.27.6] and the ark, in which the antediluvian records of the Rathors may have been preserved with those of the De Courcys. But we will not revert to those “happy times, when a genealogical tree would strike its root into any soil, and the luxuriant plant could flourish and fructify without a seed of truth.” Then the ambition of the Rathor for a solar pedigree could be gratified without difficulty.

But it requires neither Bhat nor bard to illustrate its nobility: a series of splendid deeds which time cannot obliterate has emblazoned the Rathor name on the historical tablet. Where all these races have gained a place in the temple of fame, it is almost invidious to select; but truth compels me to place the Rathor with the Chauhan, on the very pinnacle. The names of Chonda and Jodha are sufficient to connect Siahji, the founder, a scion of Kanauj, with his descendant, Raja Man:[4.27.7] the rest

Were long to tell; how many battles fought; How many kings destroyed, and kingdoms won.

Let us, therefore, put forth our palm to receive the itr from his august hand, and the pan, acknowledged by a profound salaam, and bringing the right hand to my cocked hat, which etiquette requires we should “apply to the proper use:—’tis for the head,” even in the presence. At all the native courts the head is covered, and the en bas left bare. It would be sadly indecorous to walk in soiled boots over their [713] delicate carpets, covered with white linen, the general seat. The slippers are left at the door, and it is neither inconvenient nor degrading to sit in your socks. The Raja presented me with an elephant and horse caparisoned, an aigrette, necklace, brocades, and shawls, with a portion according to rank to the gentlemen who accompanied me.

On the 6th I paid the Raja another visit, to discuss the affairs of his government. From a protracted conversation of several hours, at which only a single confidential personal attendant of the prince was present, I received the most convincing proofs of his intelligence, and minute knowledge of the past history, not of his own country alone, but of India in general. He was remarkably well read; and at this and other visits he afforded me much instruction. He had copies made for me of the chief histories of his family, which are now deposited in the library of the Royal Asiatic Society. He entered deeply into the events of his personal history, and recounted many of the expedients he was obliged to have recourse to in order to save his life, when, in consequence of the murder of his Guru (not only his spiritual but his temporal guide, counsellor, and friend), he relinquished the reins of power, and acquiesced in their assumption by his son. The whole transaction is still involved in mystery, which the Raja alone can unravel. We must enter so far into the State secrets of the court as to disclose the motive for such an act as the destruction of the brave Surthan, and introduce to the reader another high priest of the Rajputs as a pendant for the oracle of the Apollo of Nathdwara.

The parricidal murder of Raja Ajit has been the destruction of Marwar, and even “unto the third and fourth generation” Providence would seem to have visited the act with its vengeance. The crown, which in a few years more would have been transmitted by nature’s law, was torn from the brow of this brave prince, who has redeemed his lost inheritance from Aurangzeb, by the unhallowed arm of his eldest son Abhai Singh; instigated thereto by an imperial bribe of the viceroyalty of Gujarat. His brother, Bakhta Singh, was made almost independent in Nagor by the concession of Abhai and the sanad and titles of his sovereign; and the contests between their issue have moistened the sands of Marwar with the richest blood of her children. Such is the bane of feudal dominion—the parent of the noblest deeds and the deepest crimes.

=Deonāthji, the High Priest.=—Raja Man, accordingly, came to the throne with all the advantages and [714] disadvantages of such a state of things; and he was actually defending his existence in Jalor against his cousin and sovereign, when an unexpected event released him from his perils, and placed him on the throne. Bhim Singh had destroyed almost every branch of the blood-royal, which might have served as a nucleus for those intestine wars which desolated the country, and young Man, the sole intervening obstacle to the full accomplishment of his wishes, was reduced to the last extremity, and on the eve of surrendering himself and Jalor to this merciless tyrant, when he was relieved from his perilous situation. He attributed his escape to the intercession of the high priest of Marwar, the spiritual leader of the Rathors. This hierarch bore the title of divinity, or Nathji: his praenomen of Deo or Deva was almost a repetition of his title; and both together, Deonath, cannot be better rendered than by ‘Lord God.’ Whether the intercession of this exalted personage was purely of a moral nature, as asserted, or whether Raja Bhim was removed from this vain world to the heaven of Indra by means less miraculous than prayer is a question on which various opinions are entertained; but all agree that nothing could have been better timed for young Man, the sole victim required to fill up the measure of Bhim’s sanguinary policy. When suicide was the sole alternative to avoid surrender to the fangs of this Herod of the Desert, the high priest, assuming the mantle of prophecy, pronounced that no capitulation was inscribed in the book of fate—whose page revealed brighter days for young Man. Such prophets are dangerous about the persons of princes, who seldom fail to find the means to prevent their oracles from being demented. A dose of poison, it is said, was deemed a necessary adjunct to render efficacious the prayers of the pontiff; and they conjointly extricated the young prince from a fate which was deemed inevitable, and placed him on the regal cushion of Marwar. The gratitude of Raja Man had no limits—no honours, no grants were sufficient to mark his sense of obligation. The royal mantle was hallowed by the tread of this sainted being; and the throne itself was exalted when Deonath condescended to share it with his master, who, while this proud priest muttered forth his mysterious benedictions, with folded hands stood before him to receive the consecrated garland. Lands in every district were conferred upon the Nath, until his estates, or rather those of the church of which he was the head, far exceeded in extent those of the proudest nobles of the land, his income [715] amounting to a tenth of the revenues of the State. During the few years he held the keys of his master’s conscience, which were conveniently employed to unlock the treasury, he erected no less than eighty-four mandirs, or places of worship, with monasteries adjoining them, for his well-fed lazy chelas or disciples, who lived at free quarters on the labour of the industrious. Deonath was a striking example of the identity of human nature, under whatever garb and in whatever clime; whether under the cowl or the coronet, in the cold clime of Europe, or in the deserts of India. This Wolsey of Marudes exercised his hourly-increasing power to the disgust and alienation of all but his infatuated prince. He leagued with the nominal minister, Induraj, and together they governed the prince and country. Such characters, when exceeding the sphere of their duties, expose religion to contempt. The degradation which the haughty grandees of Marwar experienced made murder in their eyes a venial offence, provoked as they were by the humiliations they underwent through the influence of this arrogant priest, whose character may be given in the language of Gibbon, merely substituting Deonath of Marwar for Paul of Samosata: “His ecclesiastical jurisdiction was venal and rapacious; he extorted frequent contributions from the most opulent of the faithful, and converted to his own use a considerable part of the public revenue. His council chamber and his throne, the splendour with which he appeared in public, the suppliant crowd who solicited his attention, and the perpetual hurry of business in which he was involved, were circumstances much better suited to the state of a civil magistrate than to the humility of a primitive bishop.”[4.27.8] But his “full-blown pride” at length burst under him. Sequestrations from the estates of the chief barons of Maru became frequent in order to swell his rent-roll for the support of his establishments; his retinue on ordinary occasions surpassed that of any chieftain, and not unfrequently he was attended by the whole insignia of the State—the prince attending on such ceremonies. On these occasions the proud Rajput felt that he folded his hands, not to his sovereign, but to his sovereign’s sovereign; to a vindictive and vainglorious priest, who, amidst the mummeries and artifices of religious rites, gratified an inordinate vanity, while he mortified their pride and diminished their revenues. The hatred of such men is soon followed by their vengeance; and though they would not dye their own daggers in his blood, they soon found agents in a race who know not mercy, the myrmidons of [716] that villain Amir Khan, under whose steel, and within the precincts of the palace, Deonath fell a victim. It has been surmised that Raja Man was privy to the murder; that if he did not command or even sanction it, he used no means to prevent it. There are but two in this life who can reveal this mystery—the Raja, and the bourreau en chéf of Rajasthan, the aforesaid Amir Khan.

The murder of the high priest was but a prolongation of the drama, in which we have already represented the treacherous destruction of the chieftain of Pokaran and his kindred; and the immolation of Krishna Kunwari, the Helen of Rajasthan. The attack on the gallant Surthan, who conducted us from Jhalamand to the capital, sprung from the seed which was planted so many years back; nor was he the last sacrifice: victim after victim followed in quick succession until the Caligula of the Desert, who could “smile and stab,” had either slain or exiled all the first chieftains of his State. It would be a tedious tale to unravel all these intrigues; yet some of them must be told, in order to account for the ferocity of this man, now a subordinate ally of the British Government in the East.

=Accession of Rāja Mān Singh.=—It was in A.D. 1804[4.27.9] that Raja Man exchanged the defence of Jalor for the throne of Jodhpur. His predecessor, Raja Bhim, left a widow pregnant; she concealed the circumstance, and when delivered, contrived to convey the child in a basket to Sawai Singh of Pokaran. During two years he kept the secret: he at length convened the Marwar chieftains, with whose concurrence he communicated it to Raja Man, demanding the cession of Nagor and its dependencies as a domain for this infant, named Dhonkal Singh, the heir-apparent of Marwar. The Raja promised compliance if the mother confirmed the truth of the statement. Whether her personal fears overcame her maternal affection, or the whole was an imposture of Pokaran, she disclaimed the child. The chiefs, though not satisfied, were compelled to appear contented with the result of this appeal; and for some years the matter seemed at rest. But this calm was only the presage of a storm, which shook to its base the political edifice of Marwar, and let loose upon her cities a torrent of predatory foes; it dethroned her prince, and, what the planner could not have contemplated, involved his own destruction. The effects of this treachery have for ever destroyed all confidence between the chief and the entire feudal interest. The Pokaran chief, after failing to establish the [717] claims of Dhonkal Singh as pretender to the throne, sent him for safety to the Shaikhawat chief of Khetri,[4.27.10] one of the independent nobles of the Jaipur family. Here he left him till an opportunity again arrived to bring him upon the scene, which was afforded by the contest between the princes of Marwar and Jaipur for the hand of the Rana’s daughter. This rivalry, the effects of which are already related, and which brought into conflict all the northern powers of India, was, in fact, only the under-plot of the deep-laid policy of Sawai. When once the gauntlet was thrown down for the hand of this fair lady, the Pokaran chief stepped in with the pretended son of Raja Bhim, whose cause, from the unpopularity of Raja Man, soon brought to his standard almost all the feudality of Marwar. The measures which followed, and the catastrophe, the death of Krishna Kunwari, have already been related.[4.27.11] The assassination of the chief of Pokaran was simultaneous with these events; and it was shortly after that the murder of the pontiff Deonath took place.

=Insanity of Rāja Mān Singh.=—After being relieved from all external foes by his own strength of mind, and the aid of a few friends whom no reverse could estrange from him, Raja Man either fell, or affected to fall, into a state of mental despondency bordering on insanity. Suspicious of every one, he would only eat from the hands of his wife, who prepared his food herself; he became sullen and morose; he neglected public business; and finally withdrew entirely from the world. The attempt to rouse him from this real or pretended stupor was fruitless; he did nothing but lament the death of Deonath, and pour forth prayers to the deity. In this state, he was easily induced to associate his son in the government, and he bestowed upon him with his own hand the tika of command. Chhattar Singh was the name of the prince, who was still in his minority; thoughtless, and of dissolute habits, he soon gave himself up to the guidance of a junta of the chiefs, who proclaimed Akhai Chand, of the mercantile caste, the chief civil minister of the State.

=British Control of Mārwār. Restoration and Policy of Rāja Mān Singh.=—Such was the condition of Marwar from A.D. 1809 to 1817. At this period the progress of events made the English arbiters of the destinies of Rajasthan. The regent of Marwar sent an ambassador to treat; but before the treaties were ratified and exchanged the young regent was dead. Various causes were assigned [718] for his death: by some his dissolute habits, occasioning premature decay; by others, with more probability, the dagger of an indignant Rajput, the honour of whose daughter he had clandestinely attempted. Upon this event, and the change of political circumstances, the chiefs had no alternative but to turn to the secluded prince. If but one half is true that I have heard, and from authority of high credit, the occupations of the years which the Raja passed between the murder of the priest and the death of his son might be deemed an atonement for the deepest crimes. When messengers announced the fate of his son, and that State necessity recalled him to the helm of affairs, he appeared unable to comprehend them. He had so long acted the maniac that he had nearly become one: his beard was never touched, and his hair, clotted and foul, gave him an expression of idiocy; yet throughout these long years he was resolutely tenacious of life. The party who governed the son and the State had their own menials to wait upon him, and many were the attempts to poison him by their means; in avoiding which his simulated madness was so perfect that they deemed he had “a charmed life.” But he had one faithful servant, who throughout this dreadful trial never forsook him, and who carried him food in his turban to replace that which was suspected. When by degrees he was led to understand the emergency, and the necessity of leaving his prison, he persevered in his apparent indifference to everything earthly, until he gathered information and the means for a terrible reaction. The treaty with the English put the ball at his foot: he very soon perceived that he might command a force to put down disorder—such was even volunteered; but with admirable penetration he trusted to the impression of this knowledge amongst his chiefs, as a sufficient auxiliary. By disseminating it, he paralysed that spirit which maintained rights in the soil of Marwar nearly concurrent with those of the sovereign. No higher compliment could be paid to British ascendancy than the sentiments of Raja Man and his nobles; and no better illustration is on record of the opinion of our power than that its name alone served the Raja’s purpose in subjugating men, who, scarcely knowing fear, yet reposing partly on our justice, though mainly on the utter hopelessness of resisting us, were deprived of all moral courage.

In refusing the aid of a mere physical force, the Raja availed himself of another weapon; for by this artifice he threw the chiefs off their guard, who confided in his [719] assumed desire to forget the past. Intrigues for power and patronage seemed to strengthen this confidence; and Salim Singh of Pokaran, the military Maire du palais or Bhanjgarh, and Akhai Chand, retained as civil prime minister, were opposed by Jodhraj Singwi, who headed the aspirants to supplant them. The Raja complained of their interested squabbles, but neither party dreamed that they were fostered by him to cloak his deep-laid schemes. Akhai Chand had been minister throughout the son’s administration; the political and pecuniary transactions of the State were known chiefly to him; to cut him off would have been poor revenge, and Raja Man was determined not only to extract from him all the knowledge of State matters transacted during his seclusion, but to make himself master of his coffers, and neither would have been attained by simple murder. Akhai Chand was not blind to the dangers of his position; he dreaded the appui his sovereign derived from the English, and laboured to inspire the Raja with distrust of their motives. It suited his master’s views to flatter this opinion; and the minister and his adherents were lulled into a fatal security.

=Maladministration of Rāja Mān Singh.=—Such were the schemes concocting when I visited this court, which were revealed by succeeding events. At this time the Raja appeared in a state of mental depression, involved in difficulties, cautious, fearful of a false step, and surrounded by the satellites of the miscreant Akhai Chand, who, if he could no longer incarcerate his person, endeavoured to seal up the mind of his prince from all communication with those who might stimulate him to exertion. But all his arts only served to entangle him in the web then weaving for his life. The Raja first made him the means of destroying the most powerful of his chieftains, Surthan being the primary sacrifice to his sanguinary proscription; many others followed, until the best of the feudal chieftains sought refuge from his fury in exile, and found the saran (sanctuary) they sought in the surrounding States, the majority in Mewar. The day of vengeance at length arrived, and the minister and his partisans were transferred from their position at the helm of the State to a dungeon. Deceived with hopes of life, and compelled by the application of some summary methods of torture, Akhai Chand gave in a schedule of forty lakhs of property, of which the Raja realized a large portion, and then dismissed him to the other world. Nagoji, the kiladar,[4.27.12] and Mulji Dandal, both favourites and advisers of the Raja’s [720] late son, returned on the strength of a general amnesty, and forgot they had been traitors. The wealth which prodigality had heaped upon them, consisting of many of the crown jewels, being recovered, their worldly accounts were settled by a cup of poison, and their bodies thrown over the battlements. Success, and the taste of blood, whetted rather than appeased the appetite of Raja Man. He was well seconded by the new minister, Fateh Raj, the deadly opponent of Akhai Chand, and all the clan of Champawats, whom he deemed the authors of the murder of his brother Induraj, slain at the same time with Deonath. Each day announced a numerous list of victims, either devoted to death, or imprisoned and stripped of their wealth. The enormous sum of a crore of rupees has been stated as the amount of the confiscations.

All these atrocities occurred within six months after my visit to this court, and about eighteen from the time it was received into protective alliance with the British Government. The anomalous condition of all our connexions with the Rajput States has already been described: and if illustration of those remarks be required, it is here in awful characters. We had tied up our own hands: “internal interference” had been renounced, and the sequestration of every merchant’s property, who was connected with the Mehta faction, and the exile of the nobles, had no limit but the will of a bloodthirsty and vindictive tyrant. The objects of his persecution made known everywhere the unparalleled hardships of their case, and asserted that nothing but respect for the British Government prevented their doing themselves justice. In no part of the past history of this State could such proscription of the majority of the kin and clan of the prince have taken place. The dread of our intervention, as an umpire favourable to their chief, deprived them of hope; they knew that if we were exasperated there was no saran to protect them. They had been more than twelve months in this afflicting condition when I left the country; nor have I heard that anything has been done to relieve them, or to adjust these intestine broils. It is abandoning them to that spirit of revenge which is a powerful ingredient in their nature, and held to be justifiable by any means when no other hope is left them. In all human probability, Raja Man will end his days by the same expedient which secured him from the fury of his predecessor.[4.27.13]

=Interview with Rāja Mān Singh.=—Having lifted the mantle which veiled the future, my reader must forget all that [721] has been said to the disadvantage of Raja Man, and see only the dignified, the courteous, and the well-instructed gentleman and prince. I cannot think that the Raja had coolly formed to himself the plan of the sanguinary measures he subsequently pursued, and which it would require a much more extended narrative to describe. We discoursed freely on past history, in which he was well read, as also in Persian, and his own native dialects. He presented me with no less than six metrical chronicles of his house; of two, each containing seven thousand stanzas, I made a rough translation. In return, I had transcribed and sent to him Ferishta’s great History of the Mahomedan Power in India, and Khulasatu-t-tawarikh,[4.27.14] a valuable epitome of the history of Hindustan. I little imagined that I should then have to exhibit him otherwise than his demeanour and instructive discourse made him appear to me. In our graver conversation I was amused with a discourse on the rules of government, and instructions for the guidance of ambassadors, which my better acquaintance with Chand discovered to be derived from that writer. He carried me, accompanied by a single domestic, to various apartments in the palace, whence he directed my view across the vast plains of the desert, whose monarch I envied not. The low hills in the vicinity alone broke the continuity of this arid region, in which a few isolated nim trees were thinly scattered, to remind one of the absence of all that is grand in vegetation. After a visit of several hours, I descended to my tent, and found my friends, Captain Waugh and Major Gough, just returned from a successful chase of an antelope, which, with the aid of some Rohilla greyhounds, they had run down. I attributed their success to the heavy sands, on which I have witnessed many pulled down by dogs of little speed; but the secret was revealed on this animal being sent to the cuisinier. On depriving him of his hide, between it and the flesh the whole carcase was covered with a large, inert, amorphous white maggot. The flesh was buried in the sands, and no venison appeared again on my table while in India.[4.27.15]

=Mandor. Rāthor Cenotaphs.=—November 8.—I set out early this morning to ramble amidst the ruins of the ancient capital, Mandor, an important link in the chain of archaeological research, before the panchranga, or ‘five-coloured banner’ of Maru was prostrated to the crescent. Attended by an escort provided by the Raja, I left the perambulator behind; but as the journey occupied an hour and a quarter, and at a very slow pace, the distance must be under five miles. I proceeded through the Sojat gate, to [722] gain the road leading to Nagor; shortly after which I passed the Maha Mandir, or ‘Grand Minster,’ the funds for the erection of which were provided by Raja Man on his escape from ruin at Jalor. I skirted the range, gradually decreasing in height for three miles, in a N.N.E. direction. We then altered our course to N.N.W., and entered the gorge of the mountains which envelop all that is hallowed of the relics of the princes of this house. The pass is narrow; the cliffs are almost perpendicular, in which are numerous caves, the abodes of ascetics. The remains of fortifications thrown across, to bar the entrance of the foe to the ancient capital of the Pariharas, are still visible: a small stream of pure and sweet water issues from this opening, and had a watercourse under an archway. After proceeding a little farther, the interval widened, and passing through the village, which does not exceed two hundred houses, our attention was attracted by a line of lofty temples, rising in graduated succession. These proud monuments proved to be the cenotaphs of the Rathors, erected on the spots where the funeral pyre consumed the crowned heads of Maru, who seldom burnt alone, but were accompanied by all that made life agreeable or poisoned its enjoyment. The small brook already mentioned flows past the southern extremity of the chief line of monuments, which extend from south to north. At the former point stands that of Rao Maldeo, the gallant opponent of Sher Shah, the brave usurper of the throne of the Moguls. The farther point terminates with that of Maharaja Ajit Singh; while the princes in regular succession, namely, Sur Singh, Udai Singh, Gaj Singh, and Jaswant Singh, fill up the interval.

These dumb recorders of a nation’s history attest the epochs of Marwar’s glory, which commenced with Maldeo, and ended with the sons of Ajit. The temple-monument of Maldeo, which yet throws into shade the still more simple shrines of Chonda, and Jodha, contrasted with the magnificent mausoleum of Raja Ajit, reads us a lesson on the advancement of luxurious pomp in this desert State. The progression is uniform, both in magnitude and elegance, from Maldeo’s who opposed on equal terms the Afghan king (whose memorable words, “I had nearly lost the throne of India for a handful of barley,”[4.27.16] mark at once the gallantry and the poverty of those whom he encountered), to the last great prince Ajit. Even that of Raja Gaj is plain, compared to his successor’s. These monuments are all erected of a very close-grained freestone, of a dark brown or red [723] tint, with sufficient hardness to allow the sculptor to indulge his fancy. The style of architecture, or rather the composition, is mixed, partaking both of the Saivite and the Buddhist; but the details are decidedly Jain, more especially the columns, which are of the same model as those in Kumbhalmer. I speak more especially of those of Rajas Jaswant and Ajit, drawings of which, on a large scale, executed by the Raja’s chief architect, I brought to Europe; but which it would be too expensive to have engraved. They are raised on immense terraces, faced with large blocks of well-polished freestone. That of Jaswant is somewhat ponderous and massive; but Ajit’s rises with great elegance and perfect symmetry of proportion.

On ascending the terrace you enter through a lofty vaulted porch supported by handsome columns to the sanctum, which is a pyramidal temple, four stories in height, in the Saivite style, crowned by the sikhar and kalas, elsewhere described. The sculptural ornaments are worthy of admiration, both for their design and effect; and the numerous columns on the basement, and different stages of ascent, give an air of so much majesty that one might deem these monuments more fitting sepulture for the Egyptian Cheops than a shrine—over what? not even the ashes of the desert king, which were consigned in an urn to the bosom of the Ganges. If the foundations of these necrological monuments have been equally attended to with the superstructure, they bid fair to convey to remote posterity the recollection of as conspicuous a knot of princely characters as ever followed each other in the annals of any age or country. Let us place them in juxtaposition with the worthies of Mewar and the illustrious scions of Timur, and challenge the thrones of Europe to exhibit such a contemporaneous display of warriors, statesmen, or scholars.

Mewar. Marwar. Delhi.

Rana Sanga Rao Maldeo Babur and Sher Shah. ┌──────────┐ │ │ Rao Sur Singh Humayun. └──────────┘ Rana Partap Raja Udai Singh Akbar.

Rana Amra I. ┐ Raja Gaj Singh ┌ Jahangir and Rana Karan ┘ └ Shah Jahan.

Rana Raj Raja Jaswant Singh Aurangzeb. ┌ All the competitors Rana Jai Singh ┐ Raja Ajit Singh ┤ for the throne after Rana Amra II. ┘ └ Farrukhsiyar [724].

From Maldeo to Udai le gros the first Raja (hitherto Raos) of Marwar, and the friend of Akbar, to Jaswant, the implacable foe of Aurangzeb, and Ajit, who redeemed his country from oppression, all were valiant men and patriotic princes.

“Where were the lions’ cubs,” I asked of my conductor, “the brave sons of Ajit, who erected this monument to his manes, and who added provinces to his dominions?” He pointed to two sheds, where the kriya karma[4.27.17] was performed; there was

No funeral urn To mark their obsequies:

but these lowly sheds told, in more forcible, more emphatic language, the cause of this abrupt transition from grandeur to humility than pen ever wrote; and furnished the moral epilogue to the eventful drama of the lives of these kings of the desert. Abhai Singh’s parricidal hand bereft his father of life; yet though his career was one splendid tissue of success and honour, leaving his dominions more than doubled, the contentions of his issue with that of his brother Bakhta Singh, alike accessory, it is said, to the crime, have entailed endless misery upon Marwar, and left them not the power, if they had the inclination, to house his ashes. In the same line with the parricide and his brave brother is the humble monument of the great Bijai Singh, whose life till towards its close was a continued tide of action. I could not avoid an exclamation of surprise: “Shame to the country,” I said, “that has neglected to enshrine the ashes of a name equal to the proudest!” His three sons, amongst them Zalim Singh, with the sketch of whom this narrative opened, have their shrines close to his; and but a few yards removed are those of Raja Bhim, and his elder brother Guman (who died in his minority), the father of the reigning prince, Raja Man. The last, which closed the line, pertained to Chhattar Singh, who, in all probability, was saved by death from the murder of his parent. I passed it in disgust, asking who had been so foolish as to entomb his ashes better than those of some of the worthies of his race? I found that it was the act of maternal fondness.

=Ancestor Worship. Sati.=—The Amavas (the Ides) and the Sankrantis (when the sun enters a new sign of the Zodiac) of every month are sacred to the Pitrideva, on which days it is incumbent on the reigning prince to “give water” to his ancestors. But the ignorance of my conductor deprived me of much information which I anticipated [725]; and had I not been pretty well read in the chronicles of the Rathors, I should have little enjoyed this visit to a “nation’s dust.” They related one fact, which was sufficient to inspire horror. No less than sixty-four females accompanied the shade of Ajit to the mansion of the sun. But this is twenty short of the number who became Satis when Raja Budh Singh of Bundi was drowned! The monuments of this noble family of the Haras are far more explicit than those of the Rathors, for every such Sati is sculptured on a small altar in the centre of the cenotaph: which speaks in distinct language the all-powerful motive, vanity, the principal incentive to these tremendous sacrifices. Budh Singh was a contemporary of Ajit, and one of the most intrepid generals of Aurangzeb; the period elapsed is about one hundred and twenty years. Mark the difference! When his descendant, my valued friend, the Rao Raja Bishan Singh, died in 1821, his last commands were that none should give such a proof of their affection. He made me guardian of his infant heir;—in a few days I was at Bundi, and his commands were religiously obeyed.

In this account are enumerated the monumental relics below the fort. Upon the mountain, and beyond the walls of the fortress of Mandor, are the dewals of Rao Ranmall, Rao Ganga, and Chonda, who conquered Mandor from the Parihars. Within a hundred yards of this trio of worthies of this house is a spot set apart for the queens who die natural deaths. But this is anticipating; let me in form conduct my readers step by step from the cemetery of the Rathors to the Cyclopean city of the Parihars.

Whoever has seen Cortona, Volterra, or others of the ancient Tuscan cities can form a correct idea of the walls of Mandor, which are precisely of the same ponderous character. It is singular that the ancient races of India, as well as of Europe (and whose name of Pali is the synonym of Galati or Keltoi) should, in equal ignorance of the mechanical arts, have piled up these stupendous monuments, which might well induce their posterity to imagine “there were giants in those days.” This western region, in which I include nearly all Rajputana and Saurashtra, has been the peculiar abode of these “pastor kings,” who have left their names, their monuments, their religion and sacred character as the best records of their supremacy. The Rajpali, or ‘Royal Pastors,’ are enumerated as one of the thirty-six royal races of ancient days: the city of Palitana, ‘the abode of the Pali,’ in Saurashtra (built [726] at the foot of Mount Satrunjaya, sacred to Buddha), and Pali in Godwar, are at once evidences of their political consequence and the religion they brought with them; while the different nail-headed characters are claimed by their descendants, the sectarian Jains of the present day.[4.27.18] There is scarcely an ancient city in Rajputana whence I have not obtained copies of inscriptions from columns and rocks, or medals, gold, silver, and copper, bearing this antique character. All are memorials of these races, likewise termed Takshak, the Scythic conquerors of India, ancestors of many of the Rajputs, whose history the antiquary will one day become better acquainted with. The Parihara, it will be recollected, is one of the four Agnikulas: races who obtained a footing in India posterior to the Suryas and Indus. I omitted, however, to mention, in the sketch of the Pariharas, that they claim Kashmir as the country whence they migrated into India: the period is not assigned, but it was when the schismatic wars between the Saivites and Buddhists were carrying on; and it would appear that the former found proselytes and supporters in many of these Agnikulas. But of the numerical extent of the followers of this faith we have this powerful evidence, namely, that three-fourths of the mercantile classes of these regions are the descendants of the martial conquerors of India, and that seven out of the ten and a half niyats or tribes, with their innumerable branches, still profess the Jain faith, which, beyond controversy, was for ages paramount in this country.

=The Walls of Mandor.=—Let us now ascend the paved causeway to this gigantic ruin, and leave the description of the serpentine Nagda, which I threaded to its source in the glen of Panchkunda, till our return. Half-way up the ascent is a noble baoli, or ‘reservoir,’ excavated from the solid rock, with a facing of cut stone and a noble flight of steps: on which, however, two enormous gulars[4.27.19] or wild fig-trees have taken root, and threaten it with premature destruction. This memorial bears the name of Nahar Rao, the last of the Parihars.[4.27.20] As I looked up to the stupendous walls,

Where time hath leant his hand, but broke his scythe,

I felt the full force of the sentiment of our heart-stricken Byron:

there is a power And magic in the ruined battlement, For which the palace of the present hour Must yield its pomp, and wait till ages are its dower.

Ages have rolled away since these were raised, and ages will yet roll on, and find [727] them immovable, unchanged. The immense blocks are piled upon, and closely fitted to, each other without any cement, the characteristic of all the Etruscan cities termed Cyclopean. We might indeed smuggle a section of Mandor into the pages of Micali,[4.27.21] amongst those of Todi or Volterra, without fear of detection. The walls, following the direction of the crest of the ridge, are irregular; and having been constructed long before artillery was thought of, the Parihar or Pali engineer was satisfied with placing the palace on the most commanding eminence, about the centre of the fortress. The bastions or towers are singularly massive, and like all the most antique, their form is square. Having both fever and ague upon me, I was incapable of tracing the direction of the walls, so as to form any correct judgement of the space they enclose; but satisfied with gaining the summit, I surveyed the ruin from the site of the palace of the Parihars. The remains, though scanty, are yet visible; but the materials have been used in the construction of the new capital Jodhpur, and in the cenotaphs described. A small range of the domestic temples of the palace, and some of the apartments, are yet distinctly to be traced; the sculptured ornaments of their portals prove them to have been the work of a Takshak or Buddhist architect. Symbolical figures are frequently seen carved on the large blocks of the walls, though probably intended merely as guides to the mason. These were chiefly Buddhist or Jain: as the quatre-feuille, the cross; though the mystic triangle, and triangle within a triangle ✡[4.27.22] (a sign of the Saivites, only, I believe), was also to be seen. The chief memorials of the Parihara are a gateway and magnificent Toran, or triumphal arch, placed towards the south-east angle of the castle. It is one mass of sculpture; but the pencil was wanting, and I had not leisure even to bring away a rude resemblance of this memento of some victory of the ancient lords of Mandor.

=Thāna Pir.=—A little distance to the northward of my position is the Than or ‘station’ of a Muhammadan saint, a disciple of the celebrated Khwaja Kutab, whose shrine at Ajmer is celebrated. This of Thana Pir,[4.27.23] as they call him, was a place of great resort to the unsanctified Kafirs, the mercenary Sindis and Afghans, who long prowled about these regions in quest of [728] prey, or plunder, or both. Nearly in the same direction, beyond the walls, are the cenotaphs of the early Rathors and the Satis already mentioned; but tradition’s voice is mute as to the spot which contains the ashes of the Parihars. To the east and north-east, nature has formed at once a barrier to this antique castle, and a place of recreation for its inhabitants; a lengthened chasm in the whole face, appearing like a dark line, were it not for the superb foliage of gular, mango, and the sacred bar and pipal, which rise above the cleft, planted about the fountain and perpendicular cliffs of the Nagda, and which must have proved a luxurious retreat to the princes of Mandor from the reverberation of the sun’s rays on the rock-built palace; for there is but a scanty brushwood scattered over the surface, which is otherwise destitute of all vegetation.

Let us now descend by the same causeway to the glen of Panchkunda, where there is much to gratify both the lover of the picturesque and the architectural antiquary. At the foot of the causeway, terminated by a reservoir of good water, are two gateways, one conducting to the gardens and their palaces erected by the Rathors; the other, to the statues of the Paladins of the desert. Leaving both for a moment, I pursued the ‘serpentine’ rivulet to its fountain, where

Couched among fallen columns, in the shade Of ruined walls that had survived the names Of those who reared them,

I reposed in meditative indolence, overwhelmed with the recollections such scenes inspire. In a recess or cave is a rude altar sanctified by the name of Nahar Rao, the famed king of Mandor, who met in equal combat the chivalrous Chauhan in the pass of the Aravalli.[4.27.24] A Nai, or barber, performs worship to the manes of this illustrious Rajput, in whose praise Chand is most eloquent. Whence the choice of a barber as a priest I know not; but as he has the universal care of the material portion of the Rajput, being always chosen as the cook, so there may be reasons for his having had an interest in the immaterial part in olden days, the tradition of which may have been lost. There is a piece of sculpture containing nine figures, said to represent Ravana, who came from “th’utmost isle Taprobane,”[4.27.25] to marry the daughter of the sovereign of Mandor. There was a lengthened legend to account for the name of Nagda, or, ‘serpentine,’ being applied to the [729] rivulet, but it is too long to relate. We must therefore quit the fountain, where the gallant Prithiraj and his fair bride, the cause of strife between the Chauhans and Pariharas, may have reposed, and visit the most remarkable relic within the precincts of this singular place.

=Images of Heroes.=—A short distance from the foot of the causeway, an archway opens into an enclosed court or area, in the retired part of which, and touching the mountain, is an extensive saloon; the roof is supported by a triple row of columns, of that light form peculiar to the Jains. Here are displayed, in all “the pomp and circumstance of war,” the statues of the knights-errant of the desert, armed cap-à-pie, bestriding steeds whose names are deathless as their riders’, all in the costume of the times in which they lived. They are cut out of the rock, but entirely detached from it, and larger than life. Though more conspicuous for strength than symmetry, the grim visages of these worthies, apparently frowning defiance, each attended by his pandu or squire, have a singularly pleasing effect. Each chieftain is armed with lance, sword, and buckler, with quiver and arrows, and poniard in his girdle. All are painted; but whether in the colours they were attached to, or according to the fancy of the architect, I know not. Before, however, entering this saloon, we pass a huge statue of Ganesa, placed as the guardian of the portal, having on each side the two Bhairavas, sons of the god of war. Then appears the statue of Chamunda (the goddess of destruction), and that of the terrific mother, Kankali, treading on the black demon Bhainsasur, in whose flank her tiger-courser has buried his bloodthirsty tongue: in each of her eight arms she holds a weapon of destruction. The black Bhairon (son of Time), with a sable flag, bearing argent a horse courant, marshals the way through the field of blood to his mother. Between her and the heroes whose lives passed “in devotion to the sword,” is a statue of the Nathji, or ‘spiritual guide’ of the Rathors: in one hand he holds his mala or ‘chaplet’; in the other his chhari or ‘patriarchal rod,’ for the guidance of his flock. Mallinath[4.27.26] heads the procession, mounted on a white charger, with a lance over his shoulder, to which is attached a flag; his quiver resting on his horse’s right flank, and his mistress, Padmavati, with a platter of food welcoming him from the raid, and who accompanied him when slain to Suryaloka, or ‘the mansion of the sun.’

Then follows Pabuji,[4.27.27] mounted on his famous charger ‘Black Caesar’ (Kesar [730] Kali), whose exploits are the theme of the itinerant bard and showman, who annually goes his round, exhibiting in pictorial delineations, while he recites in rhyme, the deeds of this warrior to the gossiping villagers of the desert.

Next comes Ramdeo[4.27.28] Rathor, a name famed in Marudesa, and in whose honour altars are raised in every Rajput village in the country.

Then we have the brave Harbuji Sankhla,[4.27.29] to whom Jodha was indebted for protection in his exile, and for the redemption of Mandor when seized by the Rana of Chitor.

Guga,[4.27.30] the Chauhan, who with his forty-seven sons fell defending the passage of the Sutlej on Mahmud’s invasion. Mehaji Mangalia brings up the rear, a famous chieftain of the Guhilot race. It would be tedious to relate any of the exploits of these worthies.

=Taintīs Kula Devata Ra Thān.=—Another saloon, of similar architecture and still greater dimensions, adjoins that just described; it is termed Taintis kula[4.27.31] devata ra than, or ‘abode of the (tutelary) divinities of the thirty-three races’: in short, the Pantheon of the Rajputs. The statues are of gypsum, or stone covered with that substance; they are of large proportions. First, is the creator, Brahma; then Surya, ‘the sun-god,’ with his seven-headed steed; then the monkey-faced deity, Hanuman; Rama, and his beloved Sita; Kanhaiya, in the woods of Vraj, surrounded by the Gopis; and a most grave figure of Mahadeva, with a bull in his hand. These six, with the goddesses of life and death, and of wisdom, constitute the eight chief divinities of the Hindus; whose qualities and attributes, personified, form an assemblage for which St. Peter’s and the Vatican to boot would be a confined dwelling.

=Palace and Gardens.=—I now retired to the palace and gardens built by Raja Ajit; of which, however superb, it is impossible for the pen to give a definite idea. Suites of colonnaded halls, covered with sculpture of easy and even graceful execution, some with screens of lattice-work to secure the ladies from the public gaze, are on the lower range; while staircases lead to smaller apartments intended for repose. The gardens, though not extensive, as may be supposed, being confined within the adamantine walls reared by the hand of Nature, must be delightfully cool even in summer. Fountains, reservoirs, and water-courses, are everywhere interspersed; and though [731] the thermometer in the open air was 86°,[4.27.32] the cold within doors (if this be not a solecism, considering that there were no doors) was excessive. Some attention was paid to its culture; besides many indigenous shrubs, it boasted of some exotics. There was the golden champa,[4.27.33] whose aroma is overpowering, and if laid upon the pillow will produce headache; the pomegranate, at once “rich in flower and fruit”; the apple of Sita, or Sitaphala, which, from similitude of taste, we call the custard-apple; a delicious species of the plantain, whose broad, verdant, glossy leaf alone inspires the mind with the sensation of coolness; the mogra;[4.27.34] the chameli, or jessamine; and the queen of flowers, the barahmasha,[4.27.35] literally the ‘twelve-month,’ because it flowers throughout the year. It is a delightful spot, and I felt a peculiar interest in it. Let the reader imagine the picture of a solitary Englishman scribbling amidst the ruins of Mandor: in front a group of venerable mango-trees; a little further an enormous isolated tamarind, “planted by the hand of a juggler in the time of Nahar Rao, the last of the Pariharas, before whom he exhibited this proof of legerdemain,” and, as the legend goes, from whose branches the juggler met his death:[4.27.36] amidst its boughs the long-armed tribe, the allies of Rama, were skipping and chattering unmolested; while beneath, two Rathor Rajputs were stretched in sleep, their horses dozing beside them, standing as sedately as the statue of ‘Black Caesar’: a grenadier Sepoy of my escort parading by a camp-basket, containing the provender of the morning, completes the calm and quiet scene.

=An Atīt Hermit.=—On the summit of the rock, across the narrow valley, several guphas, or caves, the abode of the hermit Atit,[4.27.37] were in sight. How the brains of these ascetics can stand the heat and confined air is a wonder, though, if they possessed any portion of that which is supposed to be necessary to the guidance of the machine, they would scarcely occupy such a position, nor consequently, the world’s attention. Mais tout est vanité, a cause which has produced ten times the number of saints that piety has, and ten times of ten these troglodyte philosophers. Having walked out on the terrace or house-top of the palace, to catch a sunbeam and scare away an ague which tormented me, I discovered one of these animals coiled up on a heap of bat’s dung [732], in a corner of an apartment of the palace. He was dreadfully emaciated, and but for the rolling of a pair of eyes in a visage covered with hair, there was nothing which betokened animation, much less humanity. There was none but the bat to dispute his reign, or “the spider which weaves its web in this palace of the Caesars.” I had no inclination to disturb the process of ratiocination, or to ask to which sect of philosophers belonged this Diogenes of Mandor, who might, if he had utterance, have desired me to walk downstairs, and not intercept the sunbeam for whose warmth we were competitors. The day was now nearly departed, and it was time for me to return to my friends in camp. I finished the evening by another visit to the knights of the desert; and inscribing my name on the foot of ‘Black Caesar,’ bade adieu to the ancient Mandor.

November 13.—The Raja having invited us to a dinner at the palace, we sallied forth, belted and padded, to partake of Rajput hospitality. He had made a request which will appear somewhat strange—that we would send our cuisine, as the fare of the desert might prove unpalatable; but this I had often seen done at Sindhia’s camp, when joints of mutton, fowls, and fricassees would diversify the provender of the Mahratta. I intimated that we had no apprehension that we should not do justice to the gastronomy of Jodhpur; however, we sent our tables, and some claret to drink long life to the king of Marudes. Having paid our respects to our host, he dismissed us with the complimentary wish that appetite might wait upon us, and, preceded by a host of gold and silver sticks, we were ushered into a hall, where we found the table literally covered with curries, pillaus, and ragouts of every kind, in which was not forgotten the haria mung Mandor ra, the ‘green pulse of Mandor,’ the favourite dish, next to rabri or maize-porridge, of the simple Rathor. Here, however, we saw displayed the dishes of both the Hindu and Musulman, and nearly all were served in silver. The curries were excellent, especially those of the vegetable tribes made of the pulses, the kakris or cucumbers, and of a miniature melon not larger than an egg, which grows spontaneously in these regions, and is transported by kasids, or runners, as presents, for many hundreds of miles around. The hall was an entire new building, and scarcely finished; it is erected on the northern projection of the rock, where the escarpment is most abrupt, and looks down upon the site of the batteries of the league of 1806. It is called the Man mahall [733], and, like the hall of audience, its flat roof is supported by numerous massive hewn columns. The view from it to the east is extensive, and we were told that the pinnacle of Kumbhalmer, though eighty miles distant, has been seen, in those clear days of the monsoon when the atmosphere is purified, after heavy showers, from the sand which is held suspended. Great care was taken that our meal should be uninterrupted, and that we should not be the lions to an hour’s amusement of the court. There was but one trivial occurrence to interrupt the decorum and attention of all present, and that was so slight that we only knew it after the entertainment was over. One of the menials of the court, either from ignorance or design, was inclined to evince contumely or bad breeding. It will be considered perhaps a singular circumstance that the Hindu should place before a European the vessels from which he himself eats: but a little fire purifies any metallic vessels from all such contamination; and on this point the high-blooded Rajput is less scrupulous than the bigoted Muhammadan, whom I have seen throw on the ground with contempt a cup from which his officer had drunk water on a march. But of earthenware there can be no purification. Now there was a handsome china bowl, for which some old dowager fancier of such articles would have almost become a supplicant, which having been filled with curds to the Sudra Farangis could no longer be used by the prince, and it was brought by this menial, perhaps with those words, to my native butler. Kali Khan, or, as we familiarly called him, ‘the black lord,’ was of a temper not to be trifled with; and as the domestic held it in his hand, saying, “Take it, it is no longer of any use to us,” he gave it a tap with his hand which sent it over the battlements, and coolly resuming his work, observed, “That is the way in which all useless things should be served”; a hint which, if reported to Raja Man, he seems to have acted on: for not many months after, the minister, Akhai Chand, who dreaded lest European influence should release his master from his faction and thraldom, was treated by him in the same manner as the china bowl by Kali Khan.

=The Rāja visits the Author.=—November 16.[4.27.38]—This day had been fixed for the Raja’s visits to the envoy. In order to display his grandeur, he sent his own suite of tents, which were erected near mine [734]. They were very extensive, modelled in every way after those of the Emperors of Delhi, and lined throughout with the royal colour, crimson: but this is an innovation, as will appear from the formulas yet preserved of his despatches, “from the foot of the throne, Jodhpur.” The tent, in fact, was a palace in miniature, the whole surrounded by walls of cloth, to keep at a distance the profane vulgar. The gaddi, or royal cushion and canopy, was placed in the central apartment. At three, all was noise and bustle in the castle and town; nakkaras were reverberating, trumpets sounding the alarm, that the King of Maru was about to visit the Farangi Wakil. As soon as the flags and pennant were observed winding down ‘the hill of strife’ (Jodhagir), I mounted, and with the gentlemen of my suite proceeded through the town to meet the Raja. Having complimented him en route, we returned and received him at the tents. The escort drawn up at the entrance of the tent presented arms, the officers saluting; a mark of attention which gratified him, as did the soldier-like appearance of the men. Hitherto, what he had seen of regulars belonging to the native powers was not calculated to give him a favourable impression of foot-soldiers, who are little esteemed by the equestrian order of Rajputana. His visit continued about an hour, when the shields were brought in, with jewels, brocades, shawls, and other finery, in all nineteen trays, being two less than I presented to the Rana of Udaipur. I likewise presented him with some arms of English manufacture, a telescope, and smaller things much valued by the Rajputs. After the final ceremony of perfumes, and itr-pan (which are admirable hints when you wish to get rid of a tiresome guest, though not so in this instance), the exterior wall was removed, and showed the caparisoned elephant and horses, which were part of the khilat. At the door of the tent we made our salaam, when the Raja gave me his hand, which, by the by, was his first salutation on receiving me. It is an ancient Rajput custom, and their bards continually allude to extending the right hand—“dextra extenta.”

=Taking Leave of the Rāja.=—November 17.[4.27.39]—I went to take leave of the Raja: I had a long and interesting conversation on this our last interview. I left him in the full expectation that his energy of character would surmount the difficulties by which he was surrounded, though not without a struggle, and condign punishment to some of the miscreants, the misleaders of his son, the assassins of his minister and high priest, and consequently the authors of his humiliating and protracted incarceration [735]. Whether the first gratification of vengeance provoked his appetite, or whether the torrent of his rage, once impelled into motion, became too impetuous to be checked, so that his reason was actually disturbed by the sufferings he had undergone, it is certain he grew a demoniac; nor could any one, who had conversed with the bland, the gentlemanly, I might say gentle, Raja Man, have imagined that he concealed under this exterior a heart so malignant as his subsequent acts evinced. But the day of retribution must arrive; the men who wrote that dignified remonstrance, which is given in another place,[4.27.40] will not tamely bear their wrongs, and as they dare not levy war against their prince, who reposes under British protection, the dagger will doubtless find a way to reach him even in “the thousand-columned hall” of Jodhpur.

Besides the usual gifts at parting, which are matter of etiquette, and remain untouched by the individual, I accepted as a personal token of his favour, a sword, dagger, and buckler, which had belonged to one of his illustrious ancestors. The weight of the sword, which had often been “the angel of death,” would convince any one that it must have been a nervous arm which carried it through a day. With mutual good wishes, and a request for a literary correspondence, which was commenced but soon closed, I bade adieu to Raja Man and the capital of Marwar [736].

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Footnote 4.27.1:

[Of Jagat Singh of Jaipur and Amīr Khān.]

Footnote 4.27.2:

[Rahkala is properly the carriage on which a field-piece is mounted: then, a swivel-gun (Irvine, Army of the Indian Moghuls, 140).]

Footnote 4.27.3:

[The population of the city in 1911 was 79,756.]

Footnote 4.27.4:

Amrit ra piyala.

Footnote 4.27.5:

See p. 820.

Footnote 4.27.6:

[‘The self-existent.’]

Footnote 4.27.7:

[The Rāthor dynasty of Kanauj is a myth (Smith, EHI, 385, note 1).]

Footnote 4.27.8:

[Decline and Fall, ed. W. Smith, ii. 262.]

Footnote 4.27.9:

The date of his accession is the 5th of the month Margsir, S. 1860 [A.D. 1803].

Footnote 4.27.10:

[About 80 miles N. of Jaipur city.]

Footnote 4.27.11:

Vol. I. page 535.

Footnote 4.27.12:

Commandant of the fortress [qil’adār].

Footnote 4.27.13:

[In 1839, in consequence of the misgovernment of Mān Singh, a force was sent by the British Government and Jodhpur was occupied. He entered into a treaty securing a cessation of his tyrannical acts. He died on September 5, 1843.]

Footnote 4.27.14:

[An abstract of the Khulāsatu-t-tawārīkh of Subhān Rāe is given in Elliot-Dowson viii. 5 ff.]

Footnote 4.27.15:

[Professor E. B. Poulton kindly sends a note from Colonel J. W. Yerbury, who writes: “Although no record exists of the occurrence of Hypoderma in Hindustan, I think there is no doubt that the maggots are the larvae of either H. diaua or H. acteon. They have been found in antelopes—Antelope saiga—and dorcas brought to Italy from the East.”]

Footnote 4.27.16:

[Sher Shāh, after his victory over Rāja Māldeo in A.D. 1544, said that “for a handful of millet (juār) he had almost lost the empire of India” (Ferishta ii. 123; Manucci i. 117). The author quotes this saying twice later on.]

Footnote 4.27.17:

[Funeral rite.]

Footnote 4.27.18:

[There is no evidence that the name Pālitāna is connected with a Pāli tribe.]

Footnote 4.27.19:

[Ficus glomerata.]

Footnote 4.27.20:

[Near the cave an inscription of Kakka Parihār, probably tenth century A.D., has recently been found (Erskine iii. A. 196).]

Footnote 4.27.21:

L’Italie avant la domination des Romains.

Footnote 4.27.22:

Amongst ancient coins and medals, excavated from the ruins of Ujjain and other ancient cities, I possess a perfect series with all the symbolic emblems of the twenty-four Jain apostles. The compound equilateral triangle is amongst them: perhaps there were masons in those days amongst the Pali. It is hardly necessary to state that this Trinitarian symbol (the double triangle) occurs on our (so-called) Gothic edifices, e.g. the beautiful abbey gate of Bury St. Edmunds, Suffolk, erected about A.D. 1377. [See Count Goblet D’Alviella, The Migration of Symbols, 185 ff.]

Footnote 4.27.23:

[Erskine (iii. A. 197) calls him Tanna Pīr; the shrine was built in the time of Mahārāja Mān Singh, and is held in high estimation.]

Footnote 4.27.24:

See p. 793.

Footnote 4.27.25:

Tapu Ravana, ‘the isle of Ravana,’ wherever that may be. [Taprobane represents the river Tāmraparni, ‘the copper-coloured leaf’ (IGI, xxiii. 215).]

Footnote 4.27.26:

[Eldest son of Rāo Salkha, one of the early traditional ancestors of the Jodhpur chiefs, after whom the Mallāni district is named.]

Footnote 4.27.27:

[A Rāthor chief, who first brought the camel into use, and was noted for protecting cows.]

Footnote 4.27.28:

[A Tonwar or Tuar Rājput, of the family of Anangpāl of Delhi, now worshipped under the name of Rāmsāh Pīr.]

Footnote 4.27.29:

[A Panwār Rājput, of Bengti, near Phalodi, where his cart is still worshipped.]

Footnote 4.27.30:

[Gūgaji or Guggaji, already mentioned (p. 807 above), said to have been killed in battle with Fīroz Shāh of Delhi, at the end of the thirteenth century A.D.]

Footnote 4.27.31:

I imagine the word kula, or ‘race,’ of which, as often remarked, there are not thirty-three but thirty-six, has given rise to the assertion respecting the thirty-three crore or millions of gods of Hindustan [more probably only an indefinite number].

Footnote 4.27.32:

Thermometer 55°, 72°, 86°, 80° at daybreak, ten, two, and at sunset; on the 3rd November, the day of our arrival, the variations were 50°, 72°, 80°, and 75° at those hours.

Footnote 4.27.33:

[Michelia champaka.]

Footnote 4.27.34:

[The double jasmine, Jasminum zambak.]

Footnote 4.27.35:

[Sir D. Prain, who has kindly investigated this flower, identifies it with a species of Bauhinia. He remarks that “B. acuminata, which differs from B. purpurea and B. variegata, both in being a smaller plant and in beginning to flower when B. variegata does, goes on flowering all through the rains, and still continues to flower when B. purpurea is in blossom. It does not flower all the year round in Bengal, and I doubt if it does so in Rājputāna, though Balfour in his Cyclopaedia suggests that it does so. My idea is that the term bārah-māsha in Upper India should not be taken too literally, and that it is only a figurative way of saying that the particular Bauhinia is in flower alongside of both the others when flowering seasons are separated by half the year.”]

Footnote 4.27.36:

See the Autobiography of Jahangir, translated by that able Oriental scholar, Major Price [p. 96 f.], for the astonishing feats these jugglers perform in creating not only the tree but the fruit.

Footnote 4.27.37:

[The Atīt is a mendicant follower of Siva, and the term is usually equivalent to Sannyāsi.]

Footnote 4.27.38:

Thermometer 59°, 82°, 85°, 79°.

Footnote 4.27.39:

Thermometer 59°, 73°, 89°, 82°; at six, ten, two, and sunset.

Footnote 4.27.40:

See Vol. I. p. 228.

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