Chapter 10…

Chapter 10

=Alliance with the British.=—We now enter upon that period of the regent’s history, when the march of events linked him with the policy of Britain. When in A.D. 1817, the Marquess of Hastings proclaimed war against the Pindaris, who were the very lees of the predatory hordes, which the discomfiture of the greater powers had thrown off, neutrality was not to be endured; and it was announced that all those who were not for us in this grand enterprise, which involved the welfare of all, would be considered against us. The Rajput States, alike interested with ourselves in the establishment of settled government, were invited to an alliance offensive and defensive with us, which was to free them for ever from the thraldom of the predatory armies; in return for which, we demanded homage to our power, and a portion of their revenues as the price of protection. The eagle-eye of Zalim saw at once the virtue of compliance, and the grace attendant on its being quickly yielded. Accordingly, his envoy was the first to connect Kotah in the bonds of alliance, which soon united all Rajwara to Britain. Meanwhile, all India was in arms; two hundred thousand men were embodied, and moving on various points to destroy the germ of rapine for ever. As the first scene of action was expected to be in the countries bordering upon Haraoti, the presence of an agent with Zalim Singh appeared indispensable. His instructions were to make available the resources of Kotah to the armies moving round him, and to lessen the field [556] of the enemy’s manœuvres, by shutting him out of that country. So efficient were these resources, that in five days after the agent reached the regent’s camp,[10.10.1] every pass was a post; and a corps of fifteen hundred men, infantry and cavalry, with four guns, was marched to co-operate with General Sir John Malcolm, who had just crossed the Nerbudda with a weak division of the army of the Deccan, and was marching northward, surrounded by numerous foes and doubtful friends. Throughout that brilliant and eventful period in the history of British India, when every province from the Ganges to the ocean was agitated by warlike demonstrations, the camp of the regent was the pivot of operations and the focus of intelligence. The part he acted was decided, manly, and consistent; and if there were moments of vacillation, it was inspired by our own conduct, which created doubts in his mind as to the wisdom of his course. He had seen and felt that the grand principle of politics, expediency, guided all courts and councils, whether Mogul, Mahratta, or British: the disavowal of the alliances formed by Lord Lake, under Marquess Wellesley’s administration, proved this to demonstration, and he was too familiar with the history of our power to give more credit than mere politeness required to our boasted renunciation of the rights of anticipated conquest. A smile would play over the features of the orbless politician when the envoy disclaimed all idea of its being a war of aggrandisement. To all such protestations he would say, “Maharaja, I cannot doubt you believe what you say; but remember what old Zalim tells you; the day is not distant when only one emblem of power (ekhi sikka) will be recognized throughout India.” This was in A.D. 1817-18; and the ten years of life since granted to him must have well illustrated the truth of this remark; for although no absolute conquest or incorporation of Rajput territory has taken place, our system of control, and the establishment of our monopoly within these limits (not then dreamed of by ourselves), has already verified in part his prediction. It were indeed idle to suppose that any protestations could have vanquished the arguments present to a mind which had pondered on every page of the history of our power; which had witnessed its development from the battle of Plassey under Clive to Lake’s exploits at the altars of Alexander. He had seen throughout, that the fundamental rule which guides the Rajput prince, ‘obtain land,’ was one both practically and theoretically understood by viceroys from [557] the west, who appeared to act upon the four grand political principles of the Rajput, sham, dan, bed, dand; or, persuasion, gifts, stratagem, force; by which, according to their great lawgiver, kingdoms are obtained and maintained, and all mundane affairs conducted. When, therefore, in order to attain our ends, we expatiated upon the disinterestedness of our views, his co-operation was granted less from a belief in our professions, than upon a dispassionate consideration of the benefits which such alliance would confer upon Kotah, and of its utility in maintaining his family in the position it had so long held in that State. He must have balanced the difficulties he had mastered to maintain that power, against the enemies, internal and external, which had threatened it, and he justly feared both would speedily be sacrificed to the incapacity of his successors. To provide a stay to their feebleness was the motive which induced him to throw himself heart and hand into the alliance we sought; and of signal benefit did he prove to the cause he espoused. But if we read aright the workings of a mind, which never betrayed its purpose either to friend or foe, we should find that there was a moment wherein, though he did not swerve from the path he had chalked out, or show any equivocation in respect to the pledge he had given, the same spirit which had guided him to the eminence he had acquired, suggested what he might have done at a conjuncture when all India, save Rajputana, was in arms to overthrow the legions of Britain. All had reason to dread her colossal power, and hatred and revenge actuated our numerous allies to emancipate themselves from a yoke which, whether they were bound by friendship or by fear, was alike galling. If there was one master-mind that could have combined and wielded their resources for our overthrow, it was that of Zalim Singh alone. Whether the aspirations of his ambition, far too vast for its little field of action, soared to this height, or were checked by the trammels of nearly eighty winters, we can only conjecture. Once, and once only, the dubious oracle came forth. It was in the very crisis of operations, when three English divisions were gradually closing upon the grand Pindari horde, under Karim Khan, in the very heart of his dominions, and his troops, his stores, were all placed at our disposal, he heard that one of these divisions had insulted his town of Bara; then, the ideas which appeared to occupy him burst forth in the ejaculation, “that if twenty years could be taken from his life, Delhi and Deccan should be one”; and appeared to point to the hidden thoughts of a man whose tongue never spoke but in parables.

There is also no doubt that his most confidential friends and ministers, who were [558] Mahrattas, were adverse to his leaguing with the English, and for a moment he felt a repugnance to breaking the bond which had so long united him with their policy. He could not but enumerate amongst the arguments for its maintenance, his ability to preserve that independence which fifty years had strengthened, and he saw that, with the power to which he was about to be allied, he had no course but unlimited obedience; in short, that his part must now be subordinate. He preferred it, however, for the security it afforded; and as in the course of nature he must soon resign his trust, there was more hope of his power descending to his posterity than if left to discord and faction. But when hostilities advanced against the freebooters, and the more settled governments of the Peshwa, Bhonsla, Holkar, and Sindhia, determined to shake off our yoke, we could urge to him irresistible arguments for a perfect identity of interests. The envoy had only to hint that the right of conquest would leave the districts he rented from Holkar at our disposal; and that as we wanted no territory in Central India for ourselves, we should not forget our friends at the conclusion of hostilities. If ever there were doubts, they were dissipated by this suggestion; and on the grand horde being broken up, it was discovered that the families of its leaders were concealed in his territory. Through his indirect aid we were enabled to secure them, and at once annihilated the strength of the marauders. For all these important services, the sovereignty of the four districts he rented from Holkar was guaranteed to the regent. The circumstances attending the conveyance of this gift afforded an estimate of Zalim’s determination never to relinquish his authority; for, when the sanad was tendered in his own name, he declined it, desiring the insertion of that of “his master, the Maharao.” At the time, it appeared an act of disinterested magnanimity, but subsequent acts allowed us to form a more correct appreciation of his motives. The campaign concluded, and the noble commander and his enlightened coadjutor[10.10.2] left the seat of war impressed with the conviction of the great services, and the highest respect for the talents, of the veteran politician, while the envoy, who had acted with him during the campaign, was declared the medium of his future political relations.

In March A.D. 1818, profound repose reigned from the Sutlej to the ocean, of which Rajput history presented no example. The magic Runes, by which the north-man could “hush the stormy wave,” could not be more efficacious than the rod of our power in tranquillizing this wide space, which for ages had been the seat of conflict. The satya[559] yuga, the golden age of the Hindu, alone afforded a parallel to the calm which had succeeded the eras of tumultuous effervescence.

=Death of Mahārāo Ummed Singh. Disputed Succession.=—Thus matters proceeded till November 1819, when the death of the Maharao Ummed Singh engendered new feelings in the claimants to the succession, and placed the regent in a position from which not even his genius might have extricated him, unaided by the power whose alliance he had so timely obtained. And here it becomes requisite to advert to the terms of this alliance. The treaty[10.10.3] was concluded at Delhi, on the 26th of December 1817, by the envoys of the regent, in the name of his lawful sovereign, the Maharao Ummed Singh, ratified by the contracting parties, and the deeds were interchanged at the regent’s court early in January. To this treaty his sovereign’s seal and his own were appended; but no guarantee of the regent’s power was demanded pending the negotiation, nor is he mentioned except in the preamble, and then only as the ministerial agent of the Maharao Ummed Singh, in whose behalf alone the treaty was virtually executed. This excited the surprise of the British representative,[10.10.4] who, in his official dispatch detailing the progress and conclusion of the negotiations, intimated that he not only expected such stipulation, but was prepared for admitting it. There was no inadvertence in this omission; the regent saw no occasion for any guarantee, for the plenary exercise of the powers of sovereign during more than half a century had constituted him, de facto, prince of Kotah. Moreover, we may suppose had he felt a desire for such stipulation, that a feeling of pride might have stifled its expression, which by making the choice of ministers dependent on a foreign power would have virtually annulled the independent sovereignty of Kotah. Whatever was the reason of the omission, at a season when his recognition might have had the same formal sanction of all the parties as the other articles of the treaty, it furnished the future opponents of the regent’s power with a strong argument against its maintenance in perpetuity on the death of the Maharao Ummed Singh.

It has been already said that the treaty was concluded at Delhi in December 1817, and interchanged in January 1818. In March of the same year, two supplemental articles were agreed to at Delhi, and transmitted direct to the regent, guaranteeing the administration of affairs to his sons and successors for ever.

Having premised so much, let us give a brief notice of the parties, whose future fate was involved in this policy [560].

The Maharao Ummed Singh had three sons, Kishor Singh, Bishan Singh, and Prithi Singh. The heir-apparent, who bore a name dear to the recollection of the Haras, was then forty years of age. He was mild in his temper and demeanour; but being brought up in habits of seclusion, he was more conversant with the formulas of his religion, and the sacred epics, than with the affairs of mankind. He was no stranger to the annals of his family, and had sufficient pride and feeling to kindle at the recollection of their glory; but the natural bent of his mind, reinforced by education, had well fitted him to follow the path of his father, and to leave himself and his country to be governed as best pleased the Nana Sahib,[10.10.5] the regent.

Bishan Singh was about three years younger; equally placid in disposition, sensible and sedate, and much attached to the regent.

Prithi Singh was under thirty; a noble specimen of a Hara, eager for action in the only career of a Rajput—arms. To him the existing state of things was one of opprobrium and dishonour, and his mind was made up to enfranchize himself and family from the thraldom in which his father had left them, or perish in the attempt. The brothers were attached to each other, and lived in perfect harmony, though suspicions did exist that Bishan Singh’s greater docility and forbearance towards the regent’s son and successor, arose from interested, perhaps traitorous, views. Each of them had estates of twenty-five thousand rupees’ annual rent, which they managed through their agents.

The regent had two sons, the elder, Madho Singh, legitimate; the younger, Gordhandas, illegitimate; but he was regarded with more affection, and endowed with almost equal authority with the declared successor to the regency. Madho Singh was about forty-six at the period we speak of. A physiognomist would discover in his aspect no feature indicative of genius, though he might detect amidst traits which denoted indolence, a supercilious tone of character, the effect of indulgence. This was fostered in a great degree by the late Maharao, who supported the regent’s son against his own in all their dissensions, even from their infancy, which had increased the natural arrogance developed by power being too early entrusted to him: for when the regent, as before related, quitted the capital for the camp, Madho Singh was nominated to the office of Faujdar, the hereditary post of his father, and left as his locum tenens at Kotah. This office, which included the command and pay of all the [561] troops, left unlimited funds at his disposal; and as the checks which restrained every other officer in the State were inoperative upon his sons, who dared to inform against the future regent? Accordingly, he indulged his taste in a manner which engendered dislike to him: his gardens, his horses, his boats, were in a style of extravagance calculated to provoke the envy of the sons of his sovereign; while his suite eclipsed that of the prince himself. In short, he little regarded the prudent counsel of his father, who, in their metaphorical language, used to express his fears “that when he was a hundred years old” (i.e. dead), the fabric which cost a life in rearing would fall to pieces.

Gordhandas,[10.10.6] the natural son of the regent, was then about twenty-seven,[10.10.7] quick, lively, intelligent, and daring. His conduct to his sovereign’s family has been precisely the reverse of his brother’s, and in consequence he lived on terms of confidential friendship with them, especially with the heir-apparent and prince, Prithi Singh, whose disposition corresponded with his own. His father, who viewed this child of his old age with perhaps more affection than his elder brother, bestowed upon him the important office of Pardhan, which comprehends the grain-department of the State. It gave him the command of funds, the amount of which endangered the declared succession. The brothers cordially detested each other, and many indignities were cast upon Gordhandas by Madho Singh, such as putting him in the guard, which kindled an irreconcilable rancour between them. Almost the only frailty in the character of the regent was the defective education of his sons: both were left to the indulgence of arrogant pretensions, which ill accorded with the tenor of his own behaviour through life, or the conduct that was demanded of them. Dearly, bitterly has the regent repented this error, which in its consequence has thrown the merits of an active and difficult career into the shade, and made him regret that his power was not to die with him.

Such was the state of parties and politics at Kotah in November 1819, when the death of the Maharao developed views that had long been concealed, and that produced the most deplorable results. The regent was at the Chhaoni, his standing camp at Gagraun, when this event occurred, and he immediately repaired to the capital, to see that the last offices were properly performed, and to proclaim the an, or oath of allegiance, and the accession of the Maharao Kishor Singh [562].

The Political Agent received the intelligence[10.10.8] on his march from Marwar to Mewar, and immediately addressed his government on the subject, requesting instructions. Meanwhile, after a few days’ halt at Udaipur, he repaired to Kotah to observe the state of parties, whose animosities and expectations were forebodings of a change which menaced the guaranteed order of things. On his arrival, he found the aged regent, still a stranger to the luxury of a house, encamped a mile beyond the city, with his devoted bands around him; while his son, the heir to his power, continued in his palace in the town. The prince and brothers, as heretofore, resided at the palace in the castle, where they held their coteries, of which Gordhandas and Prithi Singh were the principals, moulding the new Maharao to their will, and from which the second brother, Bishan Singh, was excluded. Although the late prince had hardly ceased to breathe, before the animosities so long existing between the sons of the regent burst forth, and threatened ‘war within the gates’; and although nothing short of the recovery of rights so long in abeyance was determined upon by the prince; yet—and it will hardly be believed—these schemes escaped the vigilance of the regent.

The death of his friend and sovereign, added to care and infirmity, brought on a fit of illness, the result of which was expected to crown the hopes of the parties who were interested in the event; and when, to their surprise and regret, he recovered, the plans of his prince and natural son were matured, and as notorious as the sun at noon to every person of note but the regent himself. He was not, indeed, the first aged ruler, however renowned for wisdom, who had been kept in ignorance of the cabals of his family. It required a prophet to announce to David the usurpation of Adonijah;[10.10.9] and the same cause, which kept David ignorant that his son had supplanted him, concealed from the penetrating eye of Zalim Singh the plot which had for its object that his power should perish with him, and that his son Gordhan should supersede [563] the heir to his hereditary staff of office. Strange as it must appear, the British Agent acted the part of Nathan on this occasion, and had to break the intelligence to the man who had swayed for sixty years, with despotic authority, the destinies of Kotah, that his sons were arming against each other, and that his prince was determined that his wand (chhari) of power should (to speak in their metaphorical style) be consumed in the same pyre with himself whenever the ‘decree of Bhagwan’ went forth.

It was then that the supplemental articles, guaranteeing Madho Singh in the succession to the regency, proved a stumbling-block in the path of our mediation between parties, the one called on to renounce that dear-bought power, the other determined to regain what time and accident had wrested from him. Had the emergency occurred while the predatory system was predominant, not a whisper would have been raised; the point in all probability would never have been mooted: it would have been considered as a matter of course, where

Amurath to Amurath succeeds,

that the Maharao Kishor should continue the same puppet in the hands of Madho Singh that his father had been in Zalim’s. This would have excited no surprise, nor would such a proceeding have afforded speculation for one hour. Nay, the usurper might have advanced to the ulterior step; and, like the Frank Maire du Palais, have demanded of the pontiff of Nathdwara, as did Pepin of Pope Zacharias, “whether he who had the power, should not also have the title, of king”;[10.10.10] and the same plenary indulgence would have awaited the first Jhala Raja of Kotah as was granted to the first of the Carlovingian kings! It, therefore, became a matter of astonishment, especially to the unreflecting, whence arose the general sympathy, amounting to enthusiasm, towards this hitherto disregarded family, not only from chief and peasant, within the bounds of Haraoti, and the foreign mercenary army raised and maintained by the regent, but from the neighbouring princes and nobles, who had hitherto looked upon the usurpation in silence.

A short explanation will solve what was then enigmatical, even to those most interested in forming a just opinion. The practice of the moral virtues amongst any portion of civilized society may be uncertain, but there is one invariable estimate or standard of them in theory. The policy of 1817 changed the moral with the political [564] aspect of Rajasthan. If, previous thereto, no voice was raised against usurpation and crime, it was because all hope that their condition could be ameliorated was extinct. But this was to them a naya samvat, a ‘new era,’ a day of universal regeneration. Was the sovereign not to look for the restoration of that power which had been guaranteed by treaty—nor the chiefs to claim the restitution of their estates—nor the peasant to hope for the lands now added to the crown domain;—and were not all foreign potentates interested in calling for an example of retributive justice for ministerial usurpation, however mildly exercised towards the prince? With more rational than political argument, they appealed to our high notions of public justice to accomplish these objects. Unhappy position, in which circumstances—nay, paradoxical as it may appear, political gratitude and justice—dictated a contrary course, and marshalled British battalions in line with the retainers of usurpation to combat the lawful sovereign of the country! The case was one of the most difficult that ever beset our policy in the East, which must always to a certain extent be adapted to the condition of those with whom we come in contact; and perhaps, on this occasion, no caution or foresight could have averted the effects of this affiance.

=Effects of the British Treaty.=—There is not a shadow of doubt that the supplemental articles of the treaty of Kotah, which pledged our faith to two parties in a manner which rendered its maintenance towards both an impossibility, produced consequences that shook the confidence of the people of Rajwara in our political rectitude. They established two pageants instead of one, whose co-existence would have been miraculous; still, as a measure ought not to be judged entirely by its results, we shall endeavour to assign the true motive and character of the act.

If these articles were not dictated by good policy; if they cannot be defended on the plea of expediency; if the omission in the original treaty of December could not be supplied in March, without questioning the want of foresight of the framer; he might justify them on the ground that they were a concession to feelings of gratitude for important services, rendered at a moment when the fate of our power in India was involved to an extent unprecedented since its origin. To effect a treaty with the Nestor of Rajwara, was to ensure alliances with the rest of the States, which object was the very essence of Lord Hastings’ policy. Thus, on general views, as well as for particular reasons (for the resources of Kotah were absolutely indispensable), the co-operation of the regent was a measure vitally important. Still it may be urged that as the regent himself, from whatever motive, had allowed [565] the time to go by when necessity might have compelled us to incorporate such an article in the original treaty, was there no other mode of reimbursing these services besides a guarantee which was an apple of discord? The war was at an end; and we might with justice have urged that ‘the State of Kotah,’ with which we had treated, had, in the destruction of all the powers of anarchy and sharing in its spoils, fully reaped the reward of her services. Such an argument would doubtless have been diplomatically just; but we were still revelling in the excitement of unparalleled success, to which Zalim had been no mean contributor, and the future evil was overlooked in the feverish joy of the hour. But if cold expediency may not deem this a sufficient justification, we may find other reasons. When the author of the policy of 1817 had maturely adjusted his plans for the union of all the settled governments in a league against the predatory system, it became necessary to adopt a broad principle with respect to those with whom we had to treat. At such a moment he could not institute a patient investigation into the moral discipline of each State, or demand of those who wielded the power by what tenure they held their authority. It became, therefore, a matter of necessity to recognize those who were the rulers de facto, a principle which was publicly promulgated and universally acted upon. Whether we should have been justified in March, when all our wishes had been consummated, in declining a proposal which we would most gladly have submitted to in December, is a question which we shall leave diplomatists to settle,[10.10.11] and proceed to relate the result of the measure.

The counsellors of the new Maharao soon expounded to him the terms of the treaty, and urged him to demand its fulfilment according to its literal interpretation. The politic deference, which the regent had invariably shown to the late prince, was turned skilfully into an offensive weapon against him. They triumphantly appealed to the tenth article of the treaty, “the Maharao, his heirs and successors, shall remain absolute rulers of their country”; and demanded how we could reconcile our subsequent determination to guarantee Madho Singh and his heirs in the enjoyment of power, which made him de facto the prince, and “reduced the gaddi of Kotah to a simple heap of cotton?”—with the fact before our eyes, that the seals of all the contracting parties were to the original treaty, but that of the supplemental articles the late Maharao died in absolute ignorance [566].

All friendly intercourse between the prince and the regent, and consequently with Madho Singh, was soon at an end, and every effort was used whereby the political enfranchisement of the former could be accomplished. The eloquence of angels must have failed to check such hopes, still more to give a contrary interpretation to the simple language of the treaty, to which, with a judicious pertinacity, they confined themselves. It would be useless to detail the various occurrences pending the reference to our Government. The prince would not credit, or affected not to credit, its determination, and founded abundant and not easily-refutable arguments upon its honour and justice. When told that its instructions were, “that no pretensions of the titular Raja can be entertained by us in opposition to our positive engagement with the regent; that he alone was considered as the head of the Kotah State, and the titular Raja no more deemed the ruler of Kotah, than the Raja of Satara the leader of the Mahrattas, or the Great Mogul the emperor of Hindustan,” the Maharao shut his ears against the representation of the Agent, and professed to regard the person who could compare his case to others so little parallel to it, as his enemy. While his brother, Prithi Singh, and Gordhandas formed part of the council of Kishor Singh, it was impossible to expect that he would be brought to resign himself to his destiny; and he was speedily given to understand that the removal of both from his councils was indispensable.

=Outbreak at Kotah.=—But as it was impossible to effect this without escalading the castle, in which operation the prince, in all human probability, might have perished, it was deemed advisable to blockade it and starve them into surrender. When reduced to extremity, the Maharao took the determination of trusting his cause to the country, and placing himself at the head of a band of five hundred horse, chiefly Haras, with the tutelary deity at his saddle-bow, with drums beating and colours flying, he broke through the blockade. Fortunately, no instructions had been given for resistance, and his cavalcade passed on to the southward unmolested. As soon as the movement was reported, the Agent hastened to the regent’s camp, which he found in confusion; and demanded of the veteran what steps he had taken, or meant to take, to prevent the infection spreading. His conduct, at such a crisis, was most embarrassing. Beset by scruples, real or affected, the Agent could only obtain ill-timed if not spurious declarations of loyalty; “that he would cling to his sovereign’s skirts, and chakari kar (serve him); that he would rather retire to Nathdwara, than blacken his face by any treason towards his master.” Rejoiced at the mere hint of a sentiment which afforded the least presage of the only [567] mode of cutting the Gordian knot of our policy, the Agent eagerly replied, “there was no earthly bar to his determination, which he had only to signify”; but abhorring duplicity and cant at such a moment, when action of the most decisive kind was required, and apprehensive of the consequences of five hundred unquiet spirits being thrown loose on a society so lately disorganized, he hastily bid the veteran adieu, and galloped to overtake the prince’s cavalcade. He found it bivouacked at the Rangbari,[10.10.12] a country-seat six miles south of the capital. His followers and their horses, intermingled, were scattered in groups outside the garden-wall; and the prince, his chiefs, and advisers, were in the palace, deliberating on their future operations. There was no time for ceremony; and he reached the assembly before he could be announced. The rules of etiquette and courtesy were not lost even amidst impending strife; though the greeting was short, a warm expostulation with the prince and the chiefs was delivered with rapidity; and the latter were warned that their position placed them in direct enmity to the British Government, and that, without being enabled to benefit their sovereign, they involved themselves in destruction. The courtesy which these brave men had a right to was changed into bitter reproof, as the Agent turned to Gordhandas, whom he styled a traitor to his father, and from whom his prince could expect no good, guided as he was solely by interested motives, and warned him that punishment of no common kind awaited him. His hand was on his sword in an instant; but the action being met by a smile of contempt, and his insolent replies passing unheeded, the Agent, turning to the prince, implored him to reflect before the door would be closed to accommodation; pledging himself, at the same time, to everything that reason and his position could demand, except the surrender of the power of the regent, which our public faith compelled us to maintain; and that the prince’s dignity, comforts, and happiness, should be sedulously consulted. While he was wavering, the Agent called aloud, “The prince’s horse!” and taking his arm, Kishor Singh suffered himself to be led to it, observing as he mounted, “I rely implicitly on your friendship.” His brother, Prithi Singh, spoke; the chiefs maintained silence; and the impetuosity of Gordhan and one or two of the coterie was unheeded. The Agent rode side by side with the prince, surrounded by his bands, in perfect silence, and in this way they re-entered the castle, nor did the Agent quit him till he replaced him on his gaddi, when he reiterated his expressions of desire for his welfare, but urged the necessity of his adapting his conduct to the imperious circumstances of his position; and intimated that both his brother and Gordhandas must be removed from his person, the latter altogether from [568] Haraoti. This was in the middle of May; and in June, after the public deportation of Gordhandas as a state-criminal to Delhi, and ample provision being made for the prince and every member of his family, a public reconciliation took place between him and the regent.

=Reconciliation of Mahārāo Kishor Singh with Zālim Singh.=—The meeting partook of the nature of a festival, and produced a spontaneous rejoicing, the populace, with the loudest acclamations, crowding every avenue to the palace by which the regent and his son were to pass. The venerable Zalim appeared like their patriarch; the princes as disobedient children suing for forgiveness. They advanced bending to embrace his knees, whilst he, vainly attempting to restrain this reverential salutation to his age and to habit, endeavoured by the same lowly action to show his respect to his sovereign. Expressions, in keeping with such forms of affection and respect, from the Maharao, of honour and fidelity from the ‘guardian of his father’ and himself, were exchanged with all the fervour of apparent sincerity. Anomalous condition of human affairs! strange perversity, which prevented this momentary illusion from becoming a permanent reality!

=Re-installation of Kishor Singh.=—This much-desired reconciliation was followed on the 8th of Sawan, or 17th August A.D. 1820, by the solemnities of a public installation of the Maharao on the gaddi of his ancestors: a pageantry which smoothed all asperities for the time, and, in giving scope to the munificence of the regent, afforded to the mass, who judge only by the surface of things, a theme for approbation. We leave for another place[10.10.13] the details of this spectacle; merely observing that the representative of the British Government was the first (following the priest) to make the tika, or unction of sovereignty[10.10.14] on the forehead of the prince; and having tied on the jewels, consisting of aigrette, necklace, and bracelets, he girded on, amidst salutes of ordnance, the sword of investiture. The Maharao, with an appropriate speech, presented one hundred and one gold mohurs, as the nazar or fine of relief, professing his homage to the British Government. At the same time, a khilat, or dress of honour, was presented, in the name of the Governor-General of India, to the regent, for which he made a suitable acknowledgment, and a nazar of twenty-five gold mohurs.

Madho Singh then fulfilled the functions of hereditary Faujdar, making the tika, girding on the sword, and presenting the gift of accession, which was returned by [569] the Maharao presenting to Madho Singh the khilat of ultimate succession to the regency: the grand difficulty to overcome, and which originated all these differences. The Agent remained an entire month after the ceremony, to strengthen the good feeling thus begun; to adapt the Maharao’s mind to the position in which an imperious destiny had placed him; and also to impress on the successor to the regency the dangerous responsibility of the trust which a solemn treaty had guaranteed, if by his supineness, want of feeling, or misconduct, it were violated. On the 4th of September, previous to leaving Kotah, the Agent was present at another meeting of all the parties, when there was as much appearance of cordiality manifested as could be expected in so difficult a predicament. The old regent, the Maharao, and Madho Singh, joined hands in reciprocal forgiveness of the past, each uttering a solemn asseveration that he would cultivate harmony for the future.

It was on this occasion that the regent performed two deliberate acts, which appear suitable accompaniments to the close of his political life, both as respects his prince and his subjects. He had prepared a covenant of surety for his old and faithful servants after his death, demanding the Maharao’s, his son Madho Singh’s, and the Agent’s signatures thereto, stipulating that “if his successor did not choose to employ their services, they should be free agents, be called to no account for the past, but be permitted to reside wherever they pleased.” The Maharao and Madho Singh having signed the deed, the British Agent, at the desire of the regent, placed his signature as a guarantee for its execution. In this act, we not only have proof that to the last the regent maintained the supremacy of his master, but evidence of the fears he entertained respecting the conduct of his successor.

=Reforms in Taxation.=—The other act was a brilliant victory over the most inveterate habits of his age and country,—the revocation of dand, or forced contributions, throughout the dominion of Kotah. This spontaneous abolition of a practice so deeply rooted in Rajasthan, is another proof of the keen penetration of the regent, and of his desire to conciliate the opinions of the protecting power, as to the duties of princes towards their subjects; duties regarding which, as he said, “theoretically we are not ignorant”; and on which he has often forcibly descanted before his son, whilst laying down rules of conduct when he should be no more. At such moments, he entered fully and with energy into his own conduct; condemning it; pointing out its inevitable results, and the benefits he had observed to attend an opposite course of action. “My word, son, was not worth a copper,” he would say; “but now nobody would refuse anything to old Zalim.” It [570] was, therefore, as much from a conviction of the benefit to himself and the State which would attend the renunciation of this tax, as with a view of courting golden opinion, that he commanded a stone to be raised in the chief town of every district of his country, on which was inscribed the edict of perpetual abolition of dand, with the denunciation of eternal vengeance on whoever should revoke it. The effigies of the sun, the moon, the cow and the hog, animals reverenced or execrated by all classes, were carved in relief, to attest the imprecation.

Such was the pacific termination of a contest for authority, which threatened to deluge Kotah with blood. Whether we had a right to hope that such high and natural pretensions could rest satisfied with the measures of conciliation and concession that were pursued, the sequel will disclose to those who judge only by results.

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Footnote 10.10.1:

The Author of those annals, then Assistant Resident at Sindhia’s court, was deputed by Lord Hastings to the Raj Rana Zalim Singh. He left the residency at Gwalior on the 12th November 1817, and reached the regent’s camp at Rauta, about twenty-five miles S.S.E. of Kotah, on the 23rd.

Footnote 10.10.2:

I allude to Mr. Adam, who divided with the noble Marquess the entire merits of that ever memorable period. [John Adam, political secretary to the Marquess of Hastings (1779-1825) (C. E. Buckland, Dict. Indian Biography s.v.).]

Footnote 10.10.3:

Copy of this is inserted in Appendix, No. VI., p. 1833.

Footnote 10.10.4:

C. T. Metcalfe, Esq., then resident at Delhi, now Sir C. T. Metcalfe, Bart., member of council in Bengal. [Sir Charles Metcalfe (1785-1846): Resident at Delhi; Lieutenant-Governor North-western Provinces (1836-38); Governor of Jamaica (1839-42); Governor-General of Canada (1843-45); raised to the peerage 1845; died 5th September 1846 (Buckland, op. cit. s.v.; Life and Correspondence by Sir J. W. Kaye, 1854).]

Footnote 10.10.5:

This was the parental epithet always applied to the regent by Ummed Singh and his sons, who it will be remembered mingled some of the Jhala blood in their veins. Nāna-sāhib, ‘sir grandsire.’

Footnote 10.10.6:

Anglicé, ‘the slave of Gordhan,’ one of the names of Krishna, the tutelary divinity of the regent.

Footnote 10.10.7:

Let me again remind the reader that this was written in 1820-21; for many reasons, the phraseology and chronology of the original MS. are retained.

Footnote 10.10.8:

The following is a translation of the letter written by the regent, announcing the decease of his master, dated 1st Safar, A.H. 1235, or November 21, 1819:—

“Until Sunday, the eve of the 1st Safar, the health of the Maharao Ummed Singh was perfectly good. About an hour after sunset, he went to worship Sri Brajnathji [Lord of Braj or Mathura]. Having made six prostrations, and while performing the seventh, he fainted and remained totally insensible. In this state he was removed to his bed-chamber, when every medical aid was given, but unavailingly; at two in the morning he departed for heaven.

“Such affliction is not reserved even for a foe; but what refuge is there against the decree? You are our friend, and the honour and welfare of those whom the Maharao has left behind are now in your hands. The Maharao Kishor Singh, eldest son of the Maharao deceased, has been placed upon the throne. This is written for the information of friendship.”

Footnote 10.10.9:

“Nathan spake unto Bathsheba, 'hast thou not heard that Adonijah, the son of Haggith, doth reign, and David our Lord knoweth it not?'” [1 Kings i. 11.]

Footnote 10.10.10:

Such was the question propounded, and answered as Pepin expected, regarding the deposal of Childeric III., the last of the Merovingian race. [Pope Zacharias (A.D. 741-52), by whose sanction Boniface crowned Pippin King of the Franks at Soissons.]

Footnote 10.10.11:

The overture for these supplementary articles, in all probability, originated not with the regent, but with the son. Had the Author (who was then the medium of the political relations with Kotah) been consulted regarding their tendency, he was as well aware then as now, what he ought to have advised. Whether his feelings, alike excited by the grand work in which he bore no mean part, would have also clouded his judgment, it were useless to discuss. It is sufficient, in all the spirit of candour, to suggest such reasons as may have led to a measure, the consequences of which have been so deeply lamented.

Footnote 10.10.12:

['The Garden of Enjoyment.']

Footnote 10.10.13:

The details of this ceremony will be given in the Personal Narrative.

Footnote 10.10.14:

‘Anointing’ appears to have been, in all ages, the mode of installation. The unguent on this occasion is of sandalwood and itr of roses made into a paste, or very thick ointment, of which a little is placed upon the forehead with the middle finger of the right hand.

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Chapter 11

=Banishment of Gordhandās.=—The sole measure of severity which arose out of these commotions was exercised on the natural son of the regent, who was banished in the face of open day from the scene of his turbulent intrigue. Gordhandas, or, as his father styled him, ‘Gordhanji,’ was the ‘child of love’ and of his old age, and to his mother the regent, it is said, felt the most ardent attachment. The perpetual banishment of this firebrand was essential to tranquillity; yet, notwithstanding his misdeeds, political and filial, it was feared that the sentiments of the Jewish monarch, rather than the sternness of the Roman father, would have influenced the Rajput regent, whose bearing, when [571] the sentence of condemnation was enforced, was to be regarded as the test of a suspicion that the Maharao had been goaded to his course through this channel by ulterior views which he dared not openly promulgate. But Zalim’s fiat was worthy of a Roman, and sufficed to annihilate suspicion—“Let the air of Haraoti never more be tainted by his presence.” Delhi and Allahabad were the cities fixed upon, from which he was to select his future residence, and unfortunately the first was chosen. Here he resided with his family upon a pension sufficiently liberal, and had a range abundantly excursive for exercise, attended by some horsemen furnished by the British local authority.

About the close of 1821, permission was imprudently granted to the exile to visit Malwa, to fulfil a marriage-contract with an illegitimate daughter of the chieftain of Jhabua.[10.11.1] Scarcely had he set his foot in that town, when symptoms of impatience, in lieu of perfect tranquillity, began to be visible at Kotah, and a correspondence both there and at Bundi was hardly detected, before a spirit of revolt was reported to have infected the tried veterans of the regent. Saif Ali, the commander of the ‘Royals’ (Raj Paltan), an officer of thirty years’ standing, distinguished for his zeal, fidelity, and gallantry, was named as having been gained over to the cause of his nominal sovereign. This was looked upon as a slander; but too wise entirely to disregard it, the regent interposed a force between the disaffected battalion and the castle, which brought the matter to issue. The Maharao immediately proceeded by water, and conveyed Saif Ali and a part of his battalion to the palace; which was no sooner reported, than the blind regent put himself into his litter, and headed a force with which he attacked the remainder, while two twenty-four pounders, mounted on a cavalier, which commanded not only every portion of the city, but the country on both sides the Chambal, played upon the castle. In the midst of this firing (probably unexpected), the Maharao, his brother Prithi Singh, and their adherents, took to boat, crossed the river, and retired to Bundi, while the remainder of the mutinous ‘Royals’ laid down their arms. By this energetic conduct, the new attempt upon his power was dissolved as soon as formed, and the gaddi of the Haras was abandoned. Bishan Singh escaped from his brothers in the midst of the fray, and joined the regent, whose views regarding him, in this crisis, however indirectly manifested, could not be mistaken; but our system of making and unmaking kings in these distant regions, though it may have enlarged our power, had not added to our reputation; and the Agent had the most rooted repugnance to sanction the system in the new range of our alliances, however it might have tended to allay the discord [572] which prevailed, or to free the paramount power from the embarrassment in which its diplomatic relations had placed it, and from whence there was no escape without incurring the too just reproach of violating the conditions we had imposed. Common decency forbade our urging the only plea we could in forming the treaty, namely, our considering the prince as a mere phantom; and if we had been bold enough to do so, the reply would have been the same: “Why did you treat with a phantom?” while he would have persisted in the literal interpretation of the bond.

=British Intervention.=—There was but one way to deal with the perplexity—to fulfil the spirit of the treaty, by which public peace would be ensured. Instructions were sent to the prince of Bundi, that there was no restraint upon his performing the rites of hospitality and kindred to the fugitive princes, but that he would be personally responsible if he permitted them to congregate troops for the purpose of hostility against the regent: while, at the same time, the commander of the British troops at Nimach[10.11.2] was desired to interpose a light corps on the line of Jhabua and Bundi, and to capture Gordhandas, dead or alive, if he attempted to join the Maharao. He, however, contrived, through the intricacies of the plateau, to elude the well-arranged plan; but finding that the prince of Bundi had the same determination, he made direct for Marwar, where being also denied an asylum, he had no alternative but to return to Delhi, and to a more strict surveillance. This, however, may have been concerted; for soon after, the Maharao broke ground from Bundi, giving out a pilgrimage to Brindaban;[10.11.3] and it was hoped that the tranquillity and repose he would find amidst the fanes of his tutelary deity, Brajnathji, might tempt a mind prone to religious seclusion, to pass his days there. While he remained at Bundi, public opinion was not at all manifested; the distance was trifling to Kotah, and being with the head of his race, the act was deemed only one of those hasty ebullitions so common in those countries, and which would be followed by reconciliation. But as soon as the prince moved northward, expectation being excited that his cause would meet attention elsewhere, he had letters of sympathy and condolence from every chief of the country, and the customary attentions to sovereignty were paid by those through whose States he passed, with the sole exception of that most contiguous to our provinces, Bharatpur. The prince of this celebrated place sent a deputation to the frontier, excusing himself on account of his age and blindness; but the Hara prince, knowing what was due from a Jat zemindar, however favoured by the accessions of fortune, repelled with disdain both his gifts and his mission. For this haughty, though not unbecoming maintenance of precedent, the [573] Maharao was warned off the bounds of Bharatpur. Having remained some time among the ‘groves of Vraja,’ there was reason to believe that the canticles of Jayadeva had rendered an earthly crown a mere bauble in the eyes of the abdicated Hara, and that the mystical effusions of Kanhaiya and Radha had eradicated all remembrance of the rhapsodies of Chand, and the glories of the Chauhan: he was accordingly left at discretion to wander where he listed. As it was predicted, he soon felt the difference between his past and present mode of life, surrounded by a needy crew in a strange land; and towards the middle of April he had reached Muttra, on his return from Brindaban to Kotah. But his evil genius, in the shape of Gordhandas, had destined this should not be; and notwithstanding the rigorous surveillance, or, in fact, imprisonment, which had been enjoined, this person found an opportunity to carry on cabals with natives of high rank and office.

=The Mahārāo marches on Kotah.=—Intrigues multiplied, and false hopes were inspired through these impure channels, which were converted by his corrupt emissaries into fountain-heads of political control, superseding the only authorized medium of communication between the misguided prince and the paramount power. Accordingly, having collected additional troops about him, he commenced his march to Haraoti, giving out to the chiefs through whose dominions he passed, that he was returning by the consent of the paramount power for the resumption of all his sovereign rights, so long in abeyance. Men with badges in his train, belonging to the persons alluded to, and an agent from the native treasurer of Delhi, who supplied the prince with funds, gave a colour of truth which deceived the country, and produced ardent expressions of desire for his success. As he proceeded, this force increased, and he reached the Chambal, towards the close of the monsoon 1821, with about three thousand men. Having crossed the river, he issued his summons in a language neither to be misunderstood nor disobeyed by a Rajput; he conjured them by their allegiance to join his cause, “that of seeking justice according to the treaty”: and the call was obeyed by every Hara of the country. His conduct afforded the most powerful illustration of the Rajput’s theory of fidelity, for even those closely connected by ties of blood and by every species of benefit, withdrew from the regent, to whom they owed everything, in order to join their hereditary and lawful prince, whom some had never seen, and of whom they knew nothing. Negotiation, and expostulation the most solemn and earnest on the personal dangers he was incurring, were carried on, and even public tranquillity was hazarded, rather than have recourse to the last argument, which was the less necessary, as universal peace [574] reigned around us, and the means of quelling revolt were at hand. An entire month was thus consumed: but the ultimatum[10.11.4] left no means of putting a stop to increasing disorders but that appeal which from various considerations had been so long delayed.

The tried troops of the regent could not be depended on; he confessed it; and in this confession, what an evidence is afforded of the nature of his rule, and of the homage to immutable justice in all parts of the world! Every corps, foreign or indigenous, was ready to range on the side of legitimate authority against the hand which had fed and cherished them. So completely did this feeling pervade every part of the political fabric, that the regent himself said, in his forcible manner, on his escape from the danger, “even the clothes on his back smelt of treason to him.” It was hoped that “the wisdom which called aloud (even) in the streets” would not be disregarded by the veteran; that disgust at such marks of perfidy would make him spurn from him the odium of usurpation, and thus free the paramount power from a situation the most painful and embarrassing. Abundant opportunities were afforded, and hints were given that he alone could cut the knot, which otherwise must be severed [575] by the sword. But all was fruitless: “he stood upon his bond,” and the execution of the treaty. The Maharao, his nominal sovereign, took the same ground, and even sent a copy of the treaty to the Agent, tauntingly asking whether it was to be recognized or not. All this embarrassment would have been avoided, had the supplemental articles been embodied in the original treaty; then the literal interpretation and its spirit would not have been at variance, nor have afforded a pretext to reproach the paramount power with a breach of faith and justice: charges which cannot in fact be supported, inasmuch as the same contracting parties, who executed the original document, amended it by this supplemental deed. The dispute then resolves itself into a question of expediency, already touched on, namely, whether we might not have provided better for the future, and sought out other modes of reward for services we had acknowledged, than the maintenance of two pageants of sovereignty, both acknowledged, the one de facto, the other de jure. It was fortunate, however, that the magnitude of the titular prince’s pretensions placed him completely in opposition to the other contracting parties, inasmuch as he would not abide by either the spirit or the letter of the treaty or its supplement, in the most modified sense. His demand for “a personal guard of three thousand of his kinsmen, that he might allot estates at pleasure to his chiefs, appoint the governors of fortresses, and be head of the army,” was a virtual repudiation of every principle of the alliance; while the succession to the administrative powers of the State, secured to the issue of the regent, was made to depend on his pleasure: rather a frail tenure whether in Europe or Rajputana.

Everything that could be done to withdraw the infatuated prince from the knot of evil advisers and fiery spirits who daily flocked to his standard, carrying with them their own and their ancestors’ wrongs, being ineffectual and hopeless, the troops which had been called upon to maintain the treaty moved forward in combination with the army of the regent. As the force reached the Kali Sind, which alone divided the rivals for power, torrents of rain, which during several days swelled it to an impassable flood, afforded more time to try all that friendship or prudence could urge to save the Maharao from the impending ruin. But all was vain; he saw the storm, and invited its approach with mingled resolution and despair, proclaiming the most submissive obedience to the paramount power, and avowing a conviction of the good intentions and friendship of its representative; but to every remonstrance he replied, “what was life without honour; what was a sovereign without authority? Death, or the full sovereignty of his ancestors!” [576].

The conduct of the regent was not less perplexing than that of the prince; for while he affected still to talk of fealty, “to preserve his white beard from stain,” he placed before him the ample shield of the treaty, although he expected that his power should be maintained without any active measures on his own part for its defence: a degree of irresponsibility not for a moment to be tolerated. It was in vain he hinted at the spirit, more than doubtful, of his army; that in the moment of conflict they might turn their guns against us; even this he was told we would hazard: and, it was added, if he desired, at whatever cost, to preserve the power guaranteed to his family, he must act offensively as well as defensively; for it would shortly be too late to talk of reconciling fealty with the preservation of his power. The wily regent desired to have his work done for him; to have all the benefit which the alliance compelled us to afford, with none of the obloquy it entailed. The Agent had some hope, even at the twelfth hour, that rather than incur the opprobrium of the world, and the penalty denounced against the violation of swamidharma, in committing to the chance of battle the lives of all those to whom he was protector, he would draw back and compromise his power; but the betrayal of his half-formed designs in hypocritical cant adapted only for the multitude, soon dispelled the illusion; and though there was a strong internal struggle, the love of dominion overcame every scruple.

The combination of the troops was discussed in his presence and that of his officers; and in order that unity of action might be ensured, a British officer was at his request attached to his force.[10.11.5]

=Battle of Māngrol.=—At daybreak on the 1st of October, the troops moved down to the attack.[10.11.6] The regent’s army consisted of eight battalions of infantry, with thirty-two pieces of cannon and fourteen strong paegahs, or squadrons of horse. Of these, five battalions, with fourteen pieces and ten squadrons, composed the advance; while the rest formed a reserve with the regent in person, five hundred yards in the rear. The British troops, consisting of two weak battalions and six squadrons of cavalry, with a light battery of horse-artillery, formed on the right of the regent’s force as it approximated to the Maharao’s position. The ground over which the troops moved was an extensive plain, gradually shelving to a small shallow stream, whence it again rose rather abruptly. The Maharao’s camp was placed upon a rising ground, a short distance [577] beyond the stream: he left his tents standing, and had disposed his force on the margin of the rivulet. The ‘Royals,’ who had deserted their old master, with their leader, Saif Ali, were posted on the left; the Maharao with the élite, a band of full five hundred Hara cavaliers, upon the right, and the interval was filled by a tumultuous rabble. The combined force was permitted to choose its position, within two hundred yards of the foe, without the slightest demonstration of resistance or retreat. The Agent took advantage of the pause to request the British commander to halt the whole line, in order that he might make a last attempt to withdraw the infatuated prince and his devoted followers from the perils that confronted them. He advanced midway between the lines, and offered the same conditions and an amnesty to all; to conduct and replace the prince on the gaddi of his ancestors with honour. Yet, notwithstanding ruin stared him in the face, he receded from none of his demands; he insisted on the sine qua non, and would only re-enter Kotah surrounded by three thousand of his Hara kinsmen. During the quarter of an hour allowed him to deliberate ere the sword should be drawn, movements in position on both sides took place; the Maharao’s chosen band, condensing all their force on the right, opposed the regent’s advance, while the British troops formed so in echelon as to enfilade their dense masses.

The time having expired, and not an iota of the pretensions being abated, the signal, as agreed upon, was given, and the action commenced by a discharge of cannon and firearms from the regent’s whole line, immediately followed by the horse-artillery on the right. With all the gallantry that has ever distinguished the Haras, they acted as at Fatehabad and Dholpur, and charged the regent’s line, when several were killed at the very muzzle of the guns, and but for the advance of three squadrons of British cavalry, would have turned his left flank, and probably penetrated to the reserve, where the regent was in person.[10.11.7] Defeated in this design, they had no resource but a precipitate retreat from the unequal conflict, and the Maharao, surrounded by a gol of about four hundred horse, all Haras, his kinsmen, retired across the stream, and halted on the rising ground about half a mile distant, while his auxiliary foot broke and dispersed in all directions. The British troops rapidly crossed the stream, and while the infantry made a movement to cut off [578] retreat from the south, two squadrons were commanded to charge the Maharao. Determined not to act offensively, even in this emergency he adhered to his resolution, and his band awaited in a dense mass and immovable attitude the troops advancing with rapidity against them, disdaining to fly and yet too proud to yield. A British officer headed each troop; they and those they led had been accustomed to see the foe fly from the shock; but they were Pindaris, not Rajputs. The band stood like a wall of adamant; our squadrons rebounded from the shock, leaving two brave youths[10.11.8] dead on the spot, and their gallant commander[10.11.9] was saved by a miracle, being stunned by a blow which drove in his casque, his reins cut, and the arm raised to give the coup de grâce, when a pistol-shot from his orderly levelled his assailant. The whole was the work of an instant. True to the determination he expressed, the Maharao, satisfied with repelling the charge, slowly moved off; nor was it till the horse-artillery again closed, and poured round and grape into the dense body, that they quickened their retreat; while, as three fresh squadrons had formed for the charge, they reached the makkai fields, amongst the dense crops of which they were lost.

=Death of Prithi Singh.=—Prithi Singh, younger brother of the prince, impelled by that heroic spirit which is the birthright of a Hara, and aware that Haraoti could no longer be a home for him while living, determined at least to find a grave in her soil. He returned, with about five-and-twenty followers, to certain destruction, and was found in a field of Indian corn as the line advanced, alive, but grievously wounded. He was placed in a litter, and, escorted by some of Skinner’s horse, was conveyed to the camp. Here he was sedulously attended; but medical skill was of no avail, and he died the next day. His demeanour was dignified and manly; he laid the blame upon destiny, expressed no wish for life, and said, looking to the tree near the tent, that “his ghost would be satisfied in contemplating therefrom the fields of his forefathers.” His sword and ring had been taken from him by a trooper, but his dagger, pearl necklace, and other valuables, he gave in charge to the Agent, to whom he bequeathed the care of his son, the sole heir to the empty honours of the sovereignty of Kotah.

It was not from any auxiliary soldier that the prince received his death-wound; it was inflicted by a lance, propelled with unerring force from behind, penetrating the lungs, the point appearing through the chest. He said it was a revengeful blow from some determined hand, as he felt the steeled point twisted in the wound to ensure its [579] being mortal. Although the squadrons of the regent joined in the pursuit, yet not a man of them dared to come to close quarters with their enemy; it was therefore supposed that some treacherous arm had mingled with his men, and inflicted the blow which relieved the regent from the chief enemy to his son and successor.

The Maharao and his band were indebted for safety to the forest of corn, so thick, lofty, and luxuriant, that even his elephant was lost sight of. This shelter extended to the rivulet, only five miles in advance, which forms the boundary of Haraoti; but it was deemed sufficient to drive him out of the Kotah territory, where alone his presence could be dangerous. The infantry and foreign levies, who had no moral courage to sustain them, fled for their lives, and many were cut to pieces by detached troops of our cavalry.

The calm, undaunted valour of the Maharao and his kin could not fail to extort applause from those gallant minds which can admire the bravery of a foe, though few of those who had that day to confront them were aware of the moral courage which sustained their opponents, and which converted their vis inertiae into an almost impassable barrier.

=Devotion of Two Hāras.=—But although the gallant conduct of the prince and his kin was in keeping with the valour so often recorded in these annals, and now, alas! almost the sole inheritance of the Haras, there was one specimen of devotion which we dare not pass over, comparable with whatever is recorded of the fabled traits of heroism of Greece or Rome. The physiography of the country has been already described; the plains, along which the combined force advanced, gradually shelved to the brink of a rivulet whose opposite bank rose perpendicularly, forming as it were the buttress to a tableland of gentle acclivity. The regent’s battalions were advancing in columns along this precipitous bank, when their attention was arrested by several shots fired from an isolated hillock rising out of the plain across the stream. Without any order, but as by a simultaneous impulse, the whole line halted, to gaze at two audacious individuals, who appeared determined to make their mound a fortress. A minute or two passed in mute surprise, when the word was given to move on; but scarcely was it uttered, ere several wounded from the head of the column were passing to the rear, and shots began to be exchanged very briskly, at least twenty in return for one. But the long matchlocks of the two heroes told every time in our lengthened line, while they seemed to have ‘a charmed life,’ and the shot fell like hail around them innocuous, one continuing to load behind the mound, while the [580] other fired with deadly aim. At length, two twelve-pounders were unlimbered; and as the shot whistled round their ears, both rose on the very pinnacle of the mound, and made a profound salaam for this compliment to their valour; which done, they continued to load and fire, whilst entire platoons blazed upon them. Although more men had suffered, an irresistible impulse was felt to save these gallant men; orders were given to cease firing, and the force was directed to move on, unless any two individuals chose to attack them manfully hand to hand. The words were scarcely uttered when two young Rohillas drew their swords, sprung down the bank, and soon cleared the space between them and the foemen. All was deep anxiety as they mounted to the assault; but whether their physical frame was less vigorous, or their energies were exhausted by wounds or by their peculiar situation, these brave defenders fell on the mount, whence they disputed the march of ten battalions of infantry and twenty pieces of cannon.[10.11.10] They were Haras! But Zalim was the cloud which interposed between them and their fortunes; and to remove it, they courted the destruction which at length overtook them.

The entire devotion which the vassalage of Haraoti manifested for the cause of the Maharao, exemplified, as before observed, the nature and extent of swamidharma or fealty, which has been described as the essential quality of the Rajput character; while, at the same time, it illustrates the severity of the regent’s yoke. Even the chief who negotiated the treaty could not resist the defection (one of his sons was badly wounded), although he enjoyed estates under the regent which his hereditary rank did not sanction, besides being connected with him by marriage.

The Maharao gained the Parbati, which, it is said, he swam over. He had scarcely reached the shore when his horse dropped dead from a grape-shot wound. With about three hundred horse he retired upon Baroda. We had no vengeance to execute; we could not, therefore, consider the brave men, who abandoned their homes and their families from a principle of honour, in the light of the old enemies of our power, to be pursued and exterminated. They had, it is true, confronted us in the field; yet only defensively, in a cause at least morally just and seemingly sanctioned by authorities which they could not distrust.

=Reflections on the Outbreak.=—The pretensions so long opposed to the treaty were thus signally and efficiently subdued. The chief instigators of the revolt were for ever removed, one by death, the other by exile; and the punishment which overtook the deserters from the regular [581] forces of the regent would check its repetition. Little prepared for the reverse of that day, the chiefs had made no provision against it, and at our word every door in Rajwara would have been closed against them. But it was not deemed a case for confiscation, or one which should involve in proscription a whole community, impelled to the commission of crime by a variety of circumstances which they could neither resist nor control, and to which the most crafty views had contributed.[10.11.11] The Maharao’s camp being left standing, all his correspondence and records fell into our hands, and developed such complicated intrigues, such consummate knavery, that he, and the brave men who suffered from espousing his pretensions, were regarded as entitled to every commiseration.[10.11.12] As soon, therefore, as the futility of their pretensions was disclosed, by the veil being thus rudely torn from their eyes, they manifested a determination to submit. The regent was instructed to grant a complete amnesty, and to announce to the chiefs that they might repair to their homes without a question being put to them. In a few weeks, all was tranquillity and peace; the chiefs and vassals returned to their families, who blessed the power which tempered punishment with clemency.[10.11.13]

The Maharao continued his course to Nathdwara in Mewar, proving that the sentiment of religious abstraction alone can take the place of ambition. The individuals who, for their own base purposes, had by misrepresentation and guile guided him to ruin, now deserted him; the film fell from his eyes, and he saw, though too late, the only position in which he could exist. In a very short time every pretension inimical to the spirit and letter of the treaty, original and supplemental, was relinquished; when, with the regent’s concurrence, a note was transmitted to him, containing the basis on which his return to Kotah was practicable. A transcript with his acceptance being received, a formal deed was drawn up, executed by the Agent and attested by the regent, not only defining the precise position of both parties, but establishing a barrier between the titular and executive authorities, which must for ever prevent all collision of interests; nothing was left to chance or cavil. The grand object was to provide for the safety, comfort, and dignity of the prince, and this was done on a scale of profuse liberality; far beyond what his father, or indeed any prince of Kotah had enjoyed, and incommensurate with the revenue of the State, of which it is about the twentieth portion. The amount equals the household expenditure of the Rana of Udaipur, the avowed head of the whole Rajput race, but which can be better afforded from the flourishing revenues of Kotah than the slowly improving finances of Mewar.

=Restoration of the Mahārāo.=—These preliminaries being satisfactorily adjusted, it became important to inspire this misguided prince with a confidence that his welfare would be as anxiously watched as the stipulations of the treaty whose infringement had cost him so much misery. He had too much reason to plead personal alarm as one of the causes of his past conduct, and which tended greatly to neutralize all the endeavours to serve him. Even on the very day that he was to leave Nathdwara, on his return, when after great efforts his mind had been emancipated from distrust, a final and diabolical attempt was made to thwart the measures for his restoration. A mutilated wretch was made to personate his brother Bishan Singh, and to give out that he had been maimed by command [583] of the regent’s son, and the impostor had the audacity to come within a couple of miles of the Maharao; a slight resemblance to Bishan Singh aided the deceit, which, though promptly exposed, had made the impression for which it was contrived, and it required some skill to remove it. The Rana of Udaipur no sooner heard of this last effort to defeat all the good intentions in which he co-operated towards the Maharao, to whose sister he was married, than he had the impostor seized and brought to the city, where his story had caused a powerful sensation. His indiscreet indignation for ever destroyed the clue by which the plot might have been unravelled; for he was led immediately to execution, and all that transpired was, that he was a native of the Jaipur State, and had been mutilated for some crime. Could the question have been solved, it might have afforded the means of a different termination of those unhappy quarrels, to which they formed a characteristic sequel: intrigue and mistrust combined to inveigle Kishor Singh into attempts which placed him far beyond the reach of reason, and the most zealous exertions to extricate him.

This last scene being over, the Maharao left his retreat at the fane of Kanhaiya, and marched across the plateau to his paternal domains. On the last day of the year the regent, accompanied by the Agent, advanced to reconduct the prince to the capital. The universal demonstration of satisfaction at his return was the most convincing testimony that any other course would have been erroneous. On that day he once more took possession of the gaddi which he had twice abandoned, with a resignation free from all asperity, or even embarrassment. Feelings arising out of a mind accustomed to religious meditation, aided while they softened the bitter monitor, adversity, and together they afforded the best security that any deviation from the new order of things would never proceed from him.

=Arrangements with the Mahārāo.=—Besides the schedule of the personal expenditure, over which he was supreme, much of the State expense was to be managed under the eye of the sovereign; such as the charities, and gifts on festivals and military ceremonies. The royal insignia used on all great occasions were to remain as heretofore at his residence in the castle, as was the band at the old guardroom over the chief portal of entrance. He was to preside at all the military or other annual festivals, attended by the whole retinue of the State; and the gifts on such occasions were to be distributed in his name. All the palaces, in and about the city, were at his sole disposal, and funds were set apart for their repairs; the gardens, ramnas, or game-preserves, and his personal guards, were also to be entertained and paid by himself. To maintain this arrangement inviolate, an [584] officer of the paramount power was henceforth to reside at Kotah. A handsome stipend was settled on the minor son of the deceased Prithi Singh; while, in order to prevent any umbrage to the Maharao, his brother Bishan Singh, whose trimming policy had been offensive to the Maharao, was removed to the family estate at Antha, twenty miles east of the capital, on which occasion an increase was spontaneously made to his jagir.

The Agent remained an entire month after this, to strengthen the good understanding now introduced. He even effected a reconciliation between the prince and Madho Singh, when the former, with great tact and candour, took upon himself the blame of all these disturbances; each gave his hand in token of future amity, and the prince spontaneously embraced the man (the regent’s son) to whom he attributed all his misery. But the Maharao’s comforts and dignity are now independent of control, and watched over by a guardian who will demand a rigid exaction of every stipulation in his favour. The patriarchal Zalim was, or affected to be, overjoyed at this result, which had threatened to involve them all in the abyss of misery. Bitter was his self-condemnation at the moral blindness of his conduct, which had not foreseen and guarded against the storm; and severe, as well as merited, was the castigation he inflicted on his successor. “It is for your sins, son, that I am punished,” was the conclusion of every such exhortation.

It will be deemed a singular fatality, that this last conspicuous act in the political life of the regent should have been on the spot which exactly sixty years before witnessed the opening scene of his career; for the field of Bhatwara[10.11.14] adjoined that of Mangrol. What visions must have chased each other on this last memorable day, when he recalled the remembrance of the former! when the same sword, which redeemed the independence of Kotah from tributary degradation to Amber, was now drawn against the grandson of that sovereign who rewarded his services with the first office of the State! Had some prophetic Bardai withdrawn the mantle of Bhavani, and disclosed through the vista of threescore years the regent in the foreground, in all the panoply of ingenuous youth “spreading his carpet” at Bhatwara, to review the charge of the Kachhwaha chivalry, and in the distant perspective that same being palsied, blind, and decrepit, leading a mingled host, in character and costume altogether strange, against the grandchildren of his prince, and the [585] descendants of those Haras who nobly seconded him to gain this reputation, what effect would such a prospect have produced on one whom the mere hooting of an owl on the house-top had “scared from his propriety”?

Soon after the satisfactory conclusion of these painful scenes, the regent returned to the Chhaoni, his fixed camp, and projected a tour of the State, to allay the disorders which had crept in, and to regulate afresh the action of the State-machine, the construction of which had occupied a long life, but which could not fail to be deranged by the complicated views which had arisen amongst those whose business was to work it. Often, amidst these conflicts, did he exclaim, with his great prototype both in prosperity and sorrow, “My kinsfolk have failed, and my familiar friends have forgotten me.” But Zalim had not the same resources in his griefs that Job had; nor could he with him exclaim, “If my land cry against me, if I have eaten the fruits thereof without money, or caused the owners thereof to lose their lives, let thistles grow instead of wheat, and cockle instead of barley.”[10.11.15] His yet vigorous mind, however, soon restored everything to its wonted prosperity; and in a few weeks not a trace was left of the commotions which for a while had totally unhinged society, and threatened to deluge the land with proscription and blood. The prince was reseated on the throne with far greater comforts about him and more certainty of stability than previous to the treaty; the nobles took possession of their estates with not a blade of grass removed, and the ghar-kheti, the home-farms of the Regent, lost none of their productiveness; commerce was unscathed, and public opinion, which had dared loudly to question the moral justice of these proceedings, was conciliated by their conclusion. The regent survived these events five years; his attenuated frame was worn out by a spirit, vigorous to the last pulsation of life, and too strong for the feeble cage which imprisoned it.[10.11.16]

=Character of Zālim Singh.=—If history attempt to sum up, or institute a scrutiny into, the character of this extraordinary man, by what standard must we judge him? The actions of his life, which have furnished matter for the sketch we have attempted, may satisfy curiosity; but the materials for a finished portrait he never supplied: the latent springs of those actions remained invisible save to the eye of Omniscience. No human being ever shared the confidence of the Machiavelli of Rajasthan, who, from the first dawn of his political existence to its close, when “fourscore years and upwards,” could always say, “My secret is my own.” This single trait, throughout a troubled career of more [586] than ordinary length, would alone stamp his character with originality. No effervescence of felicity, of success, of sympathy, which occasionally bursts from the most rugged nature, no sudden transition of passion—joy, grief, hope, even revenge—could tempt him to betray his purpose. That it was often fathomed, that his “vaulting ambition has o’erleapt itself,” and made him lose his object, is no more than may be said of all who have indulged in “that sin by which angels fell”; yet he never failed through a blind confidence in the instruments of his designs. Though originally sanguine in expectation and fiery in temperament, he subdued these natural defects, and could await with composure the due ripening of his plans; even in the hey-day of youth he had attained this mastery over himself. To this early discipline of his mind he owed the many escapes from plots against his life, and the difficulties which were perpetually besetting it increased his natural resources. There was no artifice, not absolutely degrading, which he would not condescend to employ: his natural simplicity made humility, when necessary, a plausible disguise; while his scrupulous attention to all religious observances caused his mere affirmation to be respected. The sobriety of his demeanour gave weight to his opinions and influenced the judgment; while his invariable urbanity gained the goodwill of his inferiors, and his superiors were won by the delicacy of his flattery, in the application of which he was an adept. To crown the whole, there was a mysterious brevity, an oracular sententiousness, in his conversation, which always left something to the imagination of his auditor, who gave him credit for what he did not, as well as what he did utter. None could better appreciate, or studied more to obtain, the meed of good opinion; and throughout his lengthened life, until the occurrences just described, he threw over his acts of despotism and vengeance a veil of such consummate art, as to make them lose more than half their deformity. With him it must have been an axiom, that mankind judge superficially; and in accordance therewith, his first study was to preserve appearances, and never to offend prejudice if avoidable. When he sequestrated the States of the Hara feudality, he covered the fields, by them neglected, with crops of corn, and thereby drew a contrast favourable to himself between the effects of sloth and activity. When he usurped the functions of royalty, he threw a bright halo around the orb of its glory, overloading the gaddi with the trappings of grandeur, aware that—

the world is e’er deceived by ornament;

nor did the princes of Kotah ever appear with such magnificence as when he possessed all the attributes of royalty but the name. Every act evinced his deep skill in the [587] knowledge of the human mind and of the elements by which he was surrounded; he could circumvent the crafty Mahratta, calm or quell the arrogant Rajput, and extort the applause even of the Briton, who is little prone to allow merit in an Asiatic. He was a depository of the prejudices and the pride of his countrymen, both in religious and social life; yet, enigmatical as it must appear, he frequently violated them, though the infraction was so gradual as to be imperceptible except to the few who watched the slow progress of his plans. To such he appeared a compound of the most contradictory elements: lavish and parsimonious, oppressing and protecting; with one hand bestowing diamond aigrettes, with the other taking the tithe of the anchorite’s wallet; one day sequestrating estates and driving into exile the ancient chiefs of the land; the next receiving with open arms some expatriated noble, and supporting him in dignity and affluence, till the receding tide of human affairs rendered such support no longer requisite.

=Zālim Singh and Witches.=—We have already mentioned his antipathy to the professors of “the tuneful art”; and he was as inveterate as Diocletian to the alchemist, regarding the trade of both as alike useless to society: neither were, therefore, tolerated in Kotah. But the enemies of the regent assert that it was from no dislike of their merit, but from his having been the dupe of the one, and the object of the other’s satire (vish). His persecution of witches (dakini) was in strict conformity with the injunction in the Pentateuch: “Thou shall not suffer a witch to live” (Exod. chap. xxii. ver. 18). But his ordeal was worse than even death itself: handling balls of hot iron was deemed too slight for such sinners; for it was well known they had substances which enabled them to do this with impunity. Throwing them into a pond of water was another trial; if they sunk, they were innocent, if they unhappily rose to the surface, the league with the powers of darkness was apparent. A gram-bag of cayenne pepper tied over the head, if it failed to suffocate, afforded another proof of guilt; though the most humane method, of rubbing the eyes with a well-dried capsicum, was perhaps the most common, and certainly if they could furnish this demonstration of their innocence, by withholding tears, they might justly be deemed witches. These Dakinis, like the vampires of the German Bardais, are supposed to operate upon the viscera of their victims, which they destroy by slow degrees with charms and incantations, and hence they are called in Sind (where, as Abu-l Fazl says, they abound) Jigarkhor, or ‘liver-devourers.’[10.11.17] One look of a Dakini suffices to destroy; but there are few who [588] court the title, at least in Kotah, though old age and eccentricity are sufficient, in conjunction with superstition or bad luck, to fix the stigma upon individuals.

=Amusements of Zālim Singh.=—Aware of the danger of relaxing, “to have done,” even when eighty-five winters had passed over his head, was never in his thoughts. He knew that a Rajput’s throne should be the back of his steed; and when blindness overtook him, and he could no longer lead the chase on horseback, he was carried in his litter to his grand hunts, which consisted sometimes of several thousand armed men. Besides dissipating the ennui of his vassals, he obtained many other objects by an amusement so analogous to their character; in the unmasked joyousness of the sport, he heard the unreserved opinions of his companions, and gained their affection by thus administering to the favourite pastime of the Rajput, whose life is otherwise monotonous. When in the forest, he would sit down, surrounded by thousands, to regale on the game of the day. Camels followed his train, laden with flour, sugar, spices, and huge cauldrons for the use of his sylvan cuisine; and amidst the hilarity of the moment, he would go through the varied routine of government, attend to foreign and commercial policy, the details of his farms or his army, the reports of his police; nay, in the very heat of the operations, shot flying in all directions, the ancient regent might be discovered, like our immortal Alfred or St. Louis of the Franks, administering justice under the shade of some spreading pipal tree; while the day so passed would be closed with religious rites, and the recital of a mythological epic; he found time for all, never appeared hurried, nor could he be taken by surprise. When he could no longer see to sign his own name, he had an autograph facsimile engraved, which was placed in the special care of a confidential officer, to apply when commanded. Even this loss of one sense was with him compensated by another, for long after he was stone-blind, it would have been vain to attempt to impose upon him in the choice of shawls or clothes of any kind, whose fabrics and prices he could determine by the touch; and it is even asserted that he could in like manner distinguish colours.

=His Gardens.=—If, as has been truly remarked, “that man deserves well of his country who makes a blade of grass grow where none grew before,”[10.11.18] what merit is due to him who made the choicest of nature’s products flourish where grass could not grow; who covered the bare rock around his capital with soil, and cultivated the exotics of Arabia, Ceylon, and the western Archipelago; who translated from the Indian Apennines (the mountains of Malabar) the coco-nut and palmyra; and thus refuted the assertion that [589] these trees could not flourish remote from the influence of a marine atmosphere? In his gardens were to be found the apples and quinces of Kabul, pomegranates from the famed stock of Kagla ka bagh[10.11.19] in the desert, oranges of every kind, scions of Agra and Sylhet, the amba of Mazagon, and the champa-kela,[10.11.20] or golden plantain, of the Deccan, besides the indigenous productions of Rajputana. Some of the wells for irrigating these gardens cost in blasting the rock thirty thousand rupees each; he hinted to his friends that they could not do better than follow his example, and a hint always sufficed. He would have obtained a prize from any horticultural society for his improvement of the wild ber (jujube), which by grafting he increased to the size of a small apple. In chemical science he had gained notoriety; his itrs, or essential oils of roses, jessamine, ketaki, and keura,[10.11.21] were far superior to any that could be purchased. There was no occasion to repair to the valley of Kashmir to witness the fabrication of its shawls; for the looms and the wool of that fairy region were transferred to Kotah, and the Kashmirian weaver plied the shuttle under Zalim’s own eye. But, as in the case of his lead-mines, he found that this branch of industry did not return even sixteen annas and a half for the rupee,[10.11.22] the minimum profit at which he fixed his remuneration; so that after satisfying his curiosity, he abandoned the manufacture. His forges for swords and firearms had a high reputation, and his matchlocks rival those of Bundi, both in excellence and elaborate workmanship.

=Wrestling.=—His corps of gladiators, if we may thus designate the Jethis, obtained for him equal credit and disgrace. The funds set apart for this recreation amounted at one time to fifty thousand rupees per annum; but his wrestlers surpassed in skill and strength those of every other court in Rajwara, and the most renowned champions of other States were made “to view the heavens,”[10.11.23] if they came to Kotah. But in his younger days Zalim was not satisfied with the use of mere natural weapons, for occasionally he made his Jethis fight with the baghnakh,[10.11.24] or tiger-claw, when they tore off the flesh from each other [590]. The chivalrous Ummed Singh of Bundi put a stop to this barbarity. Returning from one of his pilgrimages from Dwarka, he passed through Kotah while Zalim and his court were assembled in the akhara (arena) where two of these stall-fed prize-fighters were about to contend. The presence of this brave Hara checked the bloody exhibition, and he boldly censured the Regent for squandering on such a worthless crew resources which ought to cherish his Rajputs. This might have been lost upon the Protector, had not the royal pilgrim, in the fervour of his indignation, thrown down the gauntlet to the entire assembly of Jethis. Putting his shield on the ground, he placed therein, one by one, the entire panoply of armour which he habitually wore in his peregrinations, namely, his matchlock and its ponderous accompaniments, sword, daggers, staff, and battleaxe, and challenged any individual to raise it from the ground with a single arm. All tried and failed; when Sriji, though full sixty years of age, held it out at arm’s length during several seconds. The Haras were delighted at the feat of their patriarchal chief; while the crest-fallen Jethis hung their heads, and from that day lost ground in the favour of the regent. But these were the follies of his earlier days, not of the later period of his life: he was then like an aged oak, which, though shattered and decayed, had survived the tempest and the desolation which had raged around it.

=The Last Years of Zālim Singh.=—To conclude: had he imitated Diocletian, and surrendered the purple, he would have afforded another instance of the anomalies of the human understanding; that he did not do so, for the sake of his own fame and that of the controlling power, as well as for the welfare of his prince, must be deeply lamented; the more especially as his chhari (rod) has descended to feeble hands. He had enjoyed the essentials of sovereignty during threescore years, a period equal in duration to that of Darius the Mede; and had overcome difficulties which would have appalled no ordinary minds. He had vanquished all his enemies, external and internal, and all his views as regarded Haraoti were accomplished.

Amongst the motives which might have urged the surrender of his power, stronger perhaps than his desire of reparation with heaven and his prince, was the fear of his successor’s inefficiency; but this consideration unhappily was counterbalanced by the precocious talents of his grandson, whom he affectionately loved, and in whom he thought he saw himself renewed. Pride also, that chief ingredient in his character, checked such surrender; he feared the world would suppose he had relinquished what he could no longer retain; and ruin would have been preferred to the idea that he had been “driven from his stool.” Able and artful ministers flattered the feeling so deeply rooted, and to crown the whole, he was supported by obligations of public faith contracted by a power without a rival. Still, old age, declining health, the desire of repose and of religious retirement, prompted wishes which often escaped his lips [591]; but counteracting feelings intruded, and the struggle between the good and evil principle lasted until the moment had passed when abdication would have been honourable. Had he, however, obeyed the impulse, his retreat would have more resembled that of the fifth Charles than of the Roman King. In the shades of Nathdwara he would have enjoyed that repose, which Diocletian could not find at Salona; and embued with a better philosophy and more knowledge of the human heart, he would have practised what was taught, that “there ought to be no intermediate change between the command of men and the service of God” [592].

-----

Footnote 10.11.1:

[Jhābua, in Bhopāwar Agency, Central India (IGI, xiv. 104 ff.).]

Footnote 10.11.2:

[A British cantonment in Gwalior State (IGI, xix. 105 f.).]

Footnote 10.11.3:

[In the Mathura District, United Provinces of Agra and Oudh.]

Footnote 10.11.4:

Letter of Maharao Kishor Singh, accompanying counter-articles, presented to Capt. Tod, dated Asoj badi Panchami, or 16th September, ‘Camp Miyana.’

(After compliments.)

Chand Khan has often expressed a desire to know what were my expectations. These had been already sent to you by my wakils, Mirza Muhammad Ali Beg, and Lala Salik Ram. I again send you the Schedule of Articles. According to their purport you will act. Do me justice as the representative of the British Government, and let the master be as master, and the servant as servant; this is the case everywhere else, and is not hidden from you.

Articles, the fulfilment of which was demanded by Maharao Kishor Singh, and accompanying his letter of 16th September.

1. According to the treaty executed at Delhi, in the time of Maharao Ummed Singh, I will abide.

2. I have every confidence in Nanaji Zalim Singh; in like manner as he served Maharao Ummed Singh, so he will serve me. I agree to his administration of affairs; but between Madho Singh and myself suspicions and doubts exist; we can never agree; therefore, I will give him a jagir; there let him remain. His son, Bapa Lal, shall remain with me, and in the same way as other ministers conduct State business before their princes, so shall he before me. I, the master, he, the servant; and if as the servant he acts, it will abide from generation to generation.

3. To the English Government, and other principalities, whatever letters are addressed shall be with my concurrence and advice.

4. Surety for his life, and also for mine, must be guaranteed by the English Government.

5. I shall allot a jagir for Prithi Singh (the Maharao’s brother), at which he will reside. The establishments to reside with him and my brother Bishan Singh shall be of my nomination. Besides, to my kinsmen and clansmen, according to their rank, I shall give jagirs, and they shall, according to ancient usage, be in attendance upon me.

6. My personal or khas guards, to the amount of three thousand, with Bapa Lal (the regent’s grandson) shall remain in attendance.

7. The amount of the collections of the country shall all be deposited in the Kishan Bhandar (general treasury), and thence expenditure made.

8. The Kiladars (commandants) of all the forts shall be appointed by me, and the army shall be under my orders. He (the regent) may desire the officers of Government to execute his commands, but it shall be with my advice and sanction.

These are the Articles I desire; they are according to the rules for government (rajrit)—Mitti Asoj Panchami, S. 1878 (1822).

Footnote 10.11.5:

Lieutenant M‘Millan, of the 5th Regt. Native Infantry, volunteered for this duty, and performed it as might have been expected from an officer of his gallantry and conduct.

Footnote 10.11.6:

[The battle was fought at Māngrol, on the left bank of the Pārbati River, about 40 miles N.N.E. from Kotah city, on October 1, 1821.]

Footnote 10.11.7:

The Author, who placed himself on the extreme left of the regent’s line, to be a check upon the dubious conduct of his troops, particularly noted this intended movement, which was frustrated only by Major Kennedy’s advance.

Footnote 10.11.8:

Lieutenants Clarke and Read, of the 4th Regt. Light Cavalry.

Footnote 10.11.9:

Major (now Lt.-Col.) J. Ridge, C.B.

Footnote 10.11.10:

Lieut. (now Captain) M‘Millan and the Author were the only officers, I believe, who witnessed this singular scene.

Footnote 10.11.11:

In a letter, addressed by some of the principal chiefs to the regent, through the Agent, they did not hesitate to say they had been guided in the course they adopted of obeying the summons of the Maharao, by instructions of his confidential minister.

Footnote 10.11.12:

The native treasurer at Delhi, who conducted these intrigues, after a strict investigation was dismissed from his office; and the same fate was awarded to the chief Munshi of the Persian secretary’s office at the seat of government. Regular treaties and bonds were found in the camp of the Maharao, which afforded abundant condemnatory evidence against these confidential officers, who mainly produced the catastrophe we have to record, and rendered nugatory the most strenuous efforts to save the misguided prince and his brave brethren.

Footnote 10.11.13:

The Author, who had to perform the painful duty related in this detailed transaction, was alternately aided and embarrassed by his knowledge of the past history of the Haras, and the mutual relations of all its discordant elements. Perhaps, entire ignorance would have been better—a bare knowledge of the treaty, and the expediency of a rigid adherence thereto, unbiassed by sympathy, or notions of abstract justice, which has too little in common with diplomacy. But without overlooking the colder dictates of duty, he determined that the aegis of Britain should not be a shield of oppression, and that the remains of Hara independence, which either policy or fear had compelled the regent to respect, should not thereby be destroyed; and he assumed the responsibility, a few days after the action, of proclaiming a general amnesty to the chiefs, and an invitation to each to return to his dwelling. He told the regent that any proceeding which might render this clemency nugatory, would not fail to dissatisfy the Government. All instantly availed themselves of the permission; and in every point of view, morally and physically, the result was most satisfactory, and it acted as a panacea for the wounds our public faith compelled us to inflict. Even in the midst of their compulsory infliction, he had many sources of gratulation: and of these he will give an anecdote illustrative of Rajput character. In 1807, when the Author, then commencing his career, was wandering alone through their country, surveying their geography, and collecting scraps of their statistics, he left Sindhia battering Rahatgarh [in Sāgar District, Central Provinces] and with a slender guard proceeded through the wilds of Chanderi, and thence direct westwards to trace the course of all the rivers lying between the Betwa and the Chambal. In passing through Haravati, leaving his tent standing at Bara, he had advanced with the perambulator as far as the Kali-Sind, a distance of seventeen miles; and, leaving his people to follow at leisure, was returning home unattended at a brisk canter, when, as he passed through the town of Bamolia, a party rushed out and made him captive, saying that he must visit the chief [582]. Although much fatigued, it would have been folly to refuse. He obeyed, and was conveyed to a square, in the centre of which was an elevated chabutra or platform, shaded by the sacred tree. Here, sitting on carpets, was the chief with his little court. The Author was received most courteously. The first act was to disembarrass him of his boots; but this, heated as he was, they could not effect: refreshments were then put before him, and a Brahman brought water, with a ewer and basin, for his ablutions. Although he was then but an indifferent linguist, and their patois scarcely intelligible to him, he passed a very happy hour, in which conversation never flagged. The square was soon filled, and many a pair of fine black eyes smiled courteously upon the stranger—for the females, to his surprise, looked abroad without any fear of censure; though he was ignorant of their sphere in life. The Author’s horse was lame, which the chief had noticed; and on rising to go, he found one ready caparisoned for him, which, however, he would not accept. On reaching his tent the Author sent several little articles as tokens of regard. Fourteen years after this, the day following the action at Mangrol, he received a letter by a messenger from the mother of the chief of Bamolia, who sent her blessing, and invoked him, by past friendship and recollections, to protect her son, whose honour had made him join the standard of his sovereign. The Author had the satisfaction of replying that her son would be with her nearly as soon as the bearer of the letter. The Bamolia chief, it will be recollected, was the descendant of the chief of Aton, one of the great opponents of the regent at the opening of his career.

Footnote 10.11.14:

The battle of Bhatwara was fought in S. 1817, or A.D. 1761; the action at Mangrol, Oct. 1, A.D. 1821.

Footnote 10.11.15:

Job, chap. xxxi. 38-40.

Footnote 10.11.16:

[Zālim Singh died in 1824, and was succeeded as regent by his son, Mādho Singh, who was notoriously unfit for office, and he was succeeded by his son, Madan Singh. Maharāo Kishor Singh II. died in 1828, and was succeeded by his nephew, Rām Singh II. (1828-66). Six years after his accession disputes again arose between him and his minister, Madan Singh, and it was resolved to dismember the State of Kotah, and to create the new principality of Jhālawār as a separate provision for the descendants of Zālim Singh (IGI, xv. 414; H. H. Wilson, continuation of Mill, Hist. of British India, 1846, vol. ii. p. 424).]

Footnote 10.11.17:

[Āīn, ii. 338 f.]

Footnote 10.11.18:

[Swift, Gulliver’s Travels: Voyage to Brobdingnag.]

Footnote 10.11.19:

[Kāgla kā bāgh, ‘The Crow’s Garden.’]

Footnote 10.11.20:

[Musa champa, or Chīni champa, the finest of all plantains (Watt, Econ. Prod. 787).]

Footnote 10.11.21:

[Pinus odoratissimus, the screw-pine, used for its fibre, and “for, perhaps, the most characteristic and most widely used perfume of India” (ibid. 188, 727).]

Footnote 10.11.22:

There are sixteen annas to the rupee or half-crown.

Footnote 10.11.23:

“Āsmān dikhlānā” is the phrase of the ‘Fancy’ in these regions for victory; when the vanquished is thrown upon his back and kept in that attitude. [For an account of the Jethi wrestlers of the Telugu country see Thurston, Castes and Tribes of Southern India, ii. 456 ff.]

Footnote 10.11.24:

See an account of this instrument by Colonel Briggs, Transactions of Royal Asiatic Society, vol. ii. [See Vol. II. p. 721.]

-----

Chapter 1

=Udaipur=, January 29, 1820.—The Personal Narrative attached to the second volume of this work terminated with the Author’s return to Udaipur, after a complete circuit of Marwar and Ajmer. He remained at his headquarters at Udaipur until the 29th January 1820, when circumstances rendering it expedient that he should visit the principalities of Bundi and Kotah (which were placed under his political superintendence), he determined not to neglect the opportunity it afforded of adding to his portfolio remarks on men and manners, in a country hitherto untrodden by Europeans.

Although we had not been a month in the valley of Udaipur, we were all desirous to avail ourselves of the lovely weather which the cold season of India invariably brings, and which exhilarates the European who has languished through the hot winds, and the still more oppressive monsoon. The thermometer at this time, within the valley, was at the freezing point at break of day, ranging afterwards as high as 90°, whilst the sky was without a cloud, and its splendour at night was dazzling.

=Kheroda.=—On the 29th we broke ground from the heights of Tus, marched fifteen English miles (though estimated at only six and a half coss), and encamped under the embankment of the spacious lake of Kheroda.[11.1.1] Our route was over a rich and well-watered plain, but which had long been a stranger to the plough. Three miles from Dabokh we crossed our own stream, the Berach, and at the village of [593] Darauli is a small outlet from this river, which runs into a hollow and forms a jhil, or lake. There is a highly interesting temple, dedicated to Mandeswar (Siva), on the banks of this stream, the architecture of which attests its antiquity. It is the counterpart in miniature of a celebrated temple, at Chandravati, near Abu, and verifies the traditional axiom, that the architectural rules of past ages were fixed on immutable principles.

We passed the sarai of Surajpura, a mile to the right, and got entangled in the swampy ground of Bhartewar. This town, which belongs to the chief of Kanor, one of the sixteen great barons of Mewar, boasts a high antiquity, and Bhartrihari, the elder brother of Vikrama, is its reputed founder. If we place any faith in local tradition, the bells of seven hundred and fifty temples, chiefly of the Jain faith, once sounded within its walls, which were six miles in length; but few vestiges of them now remain, although there are ruins of some of these shrines which show they were of considerable importance. Within a mile and a half of Kheroda we passed through Khairsana, a large charity-village belonging to the Brahmans.

Kheroda is a respectable place, having a fortress with double ditches, which can be filled at pleasure from the river. Being situated on the highroad between the ancient and modern capitals, it was always a bone of contention in the civil wars. It was in the hands of Rawat Jai Singh of Lawa, the adopted heir of Sangram Saktawat, one of the great leaders in the struggles of the year 1748 [A.D. 1691], an epoch as well known in Mewar as the 1745 of Scotland. Being originally a fiscal possession, and from its position not to be trusted to the hands of any of the feudal chiefs, it was restored to the sovereign; though it was not without difficulty that the riever of Lawa agreed to sign the constitution of the 4th of May,[11.1.2] and relinquish to his sovereign a stronghold which had been purchased with the blood of his kindred.

=Tribal Feuds.=—The history of Kheroda would afford an excellent illustration of the feuds of Mewar. In that between Sangram Singh the Saktawat, and Bhairon Singh Chondawat, both of these chief clans of Mewar lost the best of their defenders. In 1733 Sangram, then but a youth (his father, Lalji, Rawat of Sheogarh, being yet alive), took Kheroda from his sovereign, and retained it six years. In 1740 the rival clans of Deogarh, Amet, Kurabar, etc., under their common head, the chief of Salumbar, and having their acts legalized by the presence of the Dahipra minister, united to expel the Saktawat. Sangram held out four months; when he hoisted a flag of truce and agreed to capitulate, on [594] condition that he should be permitted to retreat unmolested, with all his followers and effects, to Bhindar, the capital of the Saktawats. This condition was granted, and the heir of Sheogarh was received into Bhindar. Here he commenced his depredations, the adventures attending which are still the topics of numerous tales. In one of his expeditions to the estate of Kurabar he carried off both the cattle and the inhabitants of Gurli. Zalim Singh, the heir of Kurabar, came to the rescue, but was laid low by the lance of Sangram. To revenge his death, every Chondawat of the country assembled round the banner of Salumbar; the sovereign himself espoused their cause, and with his mercenary bands of Sindis succeeded in investing Bhindar. During the siege Arjun of Kurabar, bent on revenge for the loss of his heir, determined to surprise Sheogarh, which he effected, and spared neither age nor sex.[11.1.3] Kheroda remained attached to the fisc during several years, when the Rana, with a thoughtlessness which has nourished these feuds, granted it to Sardar Singh, the Chondawat chief of Badesar. In S. 1746 the Chondawats were in rebellion and disgrace, and their rivals, under the chief of Bhindar, assembled their kindred to drive out the Sindi garrison, who held Kheroda for their foe. Arjun of Kurabar, with the Sindi Koli, came to aid the garrison, and an action ensued under the walls, in which Sangram slew with his own hand two of the principal subordinates of Kurabar, namely, Guman the Sakarwal, and Bhimji Ranawat. Nevertheless, the Chondawats gained the day, and the Saktawats again retired on Bhindar. There they received a reinforcement sent by Zalim Singh of Kotah (who fostered all these disputes, trusting that eventually he should be able to snatch the bone of contention from both), and a band of Arabs, and with this aid they returned to the attack. The Chondawats, who, with the auxiliaries of Sind, were encamped in the plains of Akola, willingly accepted the challenge, but were defeated; Sindi Koli, leader of the auxiliaries, was slain, and the force was entirely dispersed. Sangram, who headed this and every assault against the rival clan, was wounded in three places; but this he accounted nothing, having thereby obtained the regard of his sovereign, and the expulsion of his rival from Kheroda, which remained attached to the fisc until the year 1758, when, on the payment of a fine of ten thousand rupees, the estate was assigned to him under the royal signature. This was in the year A.D. 1802, from which period until 1818, when we had to mediate between the Rana and his chiefs, Kheroda remained a trophy of the superior courage and tact of the Saktawats. No wonder that the Rawat Jai Singh of Lawa, the adopted heir of Sangram, was averse to renounce Kheroda. He went so far as [595] to man its walls, and forbid any communication with the servants of his sovereign: the slightest provocation would have compelled a siege and assault, in which all the Chondawats of the country would gladly have joined, and the old feuds might have been revived on the very dawn of disfranchisement from the yoke of the Mahrattas. But what will be thought of this transaction when it is stated that the lord of Kheroda was at this time at court the daily companion of his sovereign! Although the dependants of Jai Singh would have fired on any one of his master’s servants who ventured to its walls, and, according to our notions, he was that moment a rebel both to his prince and the paramount protector, not an uncourtly phrase was ever heard, nor could it be discovered that the Rana and the Rawat stood in any other relation than as the gracious sovereign and the loyal subject. These matters are conveniently managed: all the odium of discussion is left to the Kamdars, or delegates of the prince and the chief, between whom not the least diminution of courteous etiquette would be observable, whilst there remained a hope of adjustment. Asiatics do not count the moments which intervene between the conception and consummation of an undertaking as do those of colder climes. In all their transactions they preserve more composure, which, whatever be its cause, lends an air of dignity to their proceedings. I have risen from discussion with the respective ministers of the sovereign and chieftains regarding acts involving treason, in order to join the principals in an excursion on the lake, or in the tilt-yard at the palace, where they would be passing their opinions on the points of a horse, with mutual courtesy and affability. This is no unamiable feature in the manners of the East, and tends to strengthen the tie of fraternity which binds together the fabric of Rajput policy.

=Agriculture at Kheroda.=—The agricultural economy of Kheroda, which discovers distinct traces of the patriarchal system, is not without interest. Kheroda is a tappa, or subdivision of one of the greater khalisa or fiscal districts of Mewar, and consists of fourteen townships, besides their hamlets. It is rated at 14,500 rupees of yearly rent, of which itself furnishes 3500. The land, though generally of a good quality, is of three classes, namely, piwal, or watered from wells; gorma, also irrigated land, extending three or four khets, or fields, around the village; and mar or mal, depending on the heavens alone for moisture. As has been already stated, there are two harvests, namely, the unalu (from ushna, ‘heat’), or summer-harvest; and the siyalu (from sita, ‘cold’), the winter or autumnal [596]. The share of the crown, as in all the ancient Hindu governments, is taken in kind, and divided as follows:—Of the first, or unalu crop, consisting of wheat, barley, and gram, the produce is formed into khallas (piles or heaps) of one hundred maunds each; these are subdivided into four parts, of twenty-five maunds each. The first operation is to provide from one of these the serana, or one ser on each maund, to each individual of the village-establishment: namely, the Patel, or head-man; the Patwari, register or accountant; the Shahnah, or watchman; the Balahi, or messenger and also general herdsman;[11.1.4] the Kathi (alias Sutar) or carpenter; the Lohar, or blacksmith; the Kumhar, or potter; the Dhobi, or washerman; the Chamar, who is shoemaker, carrier, and scavenger; the Nai, or barber-surgeon. These ten seranas, or one ser on each khalla, or two maunds and a half to each individual, swallow up one of the subdivisions. Of the three remaining parts, one share, or twenty-five maunds, goes to the Raj, or sovereign, and two to the ryot, or cultivator, after deducting a serana of two maunds for the heir-apparent, which is termed Kunwar-matka, or ‘pot for the prince.’ An innovation of late years has been practised on the portion belonging to the village, from which no less than three seranas of one maund each are deducted, previous to subdivision amongst the ten village officers; namely, one ‘pot for the prince,’ another for the Rana’s chief groom, and a third for his Modi, or steward of the grain department. These all go to the government, which thus realizes thirty maunds out of each hundred, or three-tenths, instead of one-fourth, according to ancient usage. But the village-establishment has an additional advantage before the grain is thrashed out; this is the kirpa or sheaf from every bigha (a third of an acre) of land cultivated to each individual; and each sheaf is reckoned to yield from five to seven sers of grain. The reapers are also allowed small kirpas or sheaves, yielding two or three sers each; and there were various little larcenies permitted, under the terms of dantani and chabani, indicating they were allowed the use of their teeth (dant) while reaping: so that in fact they fed (chabna, ‘to bite or masticate’) upon roasted heads of Indian corn and maize.

Of the siyalu crop, which consists of makkai, or Indian corn, and juar and bajra, or millet, with the different pulses, the process of distribution is as follows. From every khalla, or heap of one hundred maunds, forty are set apart for the Raj or government, and the rest, after deducting the seranas of the village-establishment, goes to the cultivator.

On the culture of sugar-cane, cotton, indigo, opium, tobacco, til or sesamum, and [597] the various dyes, there has always been a fixed money-rent, varying from two to ten rupees per bigha.

=Sugar-Cane Cultivation.=—There is nothing so uncertain in its results as the cultivation of sugar-cane, which holds out a powerful lure for dishonesty to the collector for the crown. But it is asserted here that the ryot had no option, being compelled to cultivate, in due proportion, cane, opium, and grain, from the same charsa[11.1.5] or well. A rough estimate of the expense attending the culture of a charsa, or what may be irrigated by one well, may not be uninteresting. Let us take, first, one bigha of cane, and no more can be watered with one pair of oxen, premising that the cane is planted in the month of Aghan, and reaped in the same month next year; that is, after a whole twelvemonth of labour:

Rupees.

Hasil, or rent 10

Seed of one bigha 20

Gor, or stirring up the earth with spuds, eight times before reaping, sixteen men each time, at two annas to each 16

Two men at the well, at four rupees each per month, for twelve months 96[11.1.6]

Two oxen, feeding, etc. 18

Paring and cutting forty thousand canes, at four annas per thousand 10

Placing canes in the mill, clothes to the men, besides one ser of sugar out of every maund 20

Shares of all the village establishment; say, if the bigha yields fifty maunds, of which they are entitled to one-fifth 40

Wood 2

Hire of boiler 6

——

A bigha will yield as much as eighty maunds of sugar,[11.1.7] though fifty is esteemed a good crop; it sells at about four rupees per maund, or 200

——

Leaving the cultivator minus 38

It will be observed that the grower’s whole expenses are charged; besides, to make up, we must calculate from the labour of the same two men and cattle, the produce profit of one bigha of opium and four bighas of wheat and barley, as follows:

Rupees. Surplus profit on the opium, seven sers of opium, at four rupees per ser 28 One hundred and fifty maunds of grain, of both harvests, of which one-third to the Raj, leaves one hundred maunds, at one rupee each maund 100 —— 128 Deduct deficiency on cane 38 —— Profit left, after feeding, men and cattle, etc., etc. 90

[598]

Sometimes, though rarely, the cane is sold standing, at four to five rupees the thousand; but, occasionally, the whole crop is lost, if the cane should unfortunately flower, when it is rooted up and burnt, or given to the cattle, being unfit for the use of man. This may be superstition; though the cultivators of the cane in the West Indies may perhaps say that the deterioration of the plant would render it not worth the trouble of extracting the juice.[11.1.8] I shall here conclude this rough sketch of the agricultural economy of Kheroda, which may be taken as a fair specimen of the old system throughout Mewar, with remarking that, notwithstanding the laws of Manu,[11.1.9] inscriptions on stone, and tradition, which constitute in fact the customary law of Rajputana, make the rent in kind far lighter than what we have just recorded, yet the cultivator could not fail to thrive if even this system were maintained. But constant warfare, the necessities of the prince, with the cupidity and poverty of the revenue officers, have superadded vexatious petty demands, as khar-lakar (wood and forage), and ghar-ginti (house-tax); the first of which was a tax of one rupee annually on every bigha of land in cultivation, and the other the same on each house or hut inhabited. Even the kaid sali, or triennial fine on the headman and the register, was levied by these again on the cultivators. But besides these regular taxes, there was no end to irregular exactions of barar and dand, or forced contributions, until, at length, the country became the scene of desolation from which it is only now emerging.

=Hīnta=, January 30.—This was a short march of three and a half coss, or nine miles, over the same extensive plain of rich black loam, or mal, whence the province of Malwa has its name.[11.1.10] We were on horseback long before sunrise; the air was pure and invigorating; the peasantry were smiling at the sight of the luxuriant young crops of wheat, barley, and gram, aware that no ruthless hand could now step between them and the bounties of Heaven. Fresh thatch, or rising walls, gave signs of the exiles’ return, who greeted us, at each step of our journey, with blessings and looks of joy mingled with sadness. Passed the hamlet, or purwa, of Amarpura, attached to Kheroda, and to our left the township of Mainar, held in sasan[11.1.11] (religious grant) by a community of Brahmans. This place affords a fine specimen of “the wisdom of ancestors” in Mewar, where fifty thousand bighas, or about sixteen thousand acres of the richest crown land, have been given in perpetuity to these drones of society; and although there are only twenty families left of this holy colony, said to have been planted by Raja Mandhata in the Treta-yug, or silver age of India, yet superstition and indolence conspire to prevent the resumption even of those portions which have none to cultivate them. A “sixty thousand [599] years’ residence in hell” is undoubtedly no comfortable prospect, and to those who subscribe to the doctrine of transmigration, it must be rather mortifying to pass from the purple of royalty into “a worm in ordure,” one of the delicate purgatories which the Rajput soul has to undergo, before it can expiate the offence of resuming the lands of the church! I was rejoiced, however, to find that some of “the sons of Sakta,” as they increased in numbers, in the inverse ratio of their possessions, deemed it better to incur all risks than emigrate to foreign lands in search of bhum; and both Hinta and Dundia have been established on the lands of the church. Desirous of preserving every right of every class, I imprecated on my head all the anathemas of the order, if the Rana should resume all beyond what the remnant of this family could require. I proposed that a thousand bighas of the best land should be retained by them; that they should not only be furnished with cattle, seed, and implements of agriculture, but that there should be wells cleared out, or fresh ones dug for them. At this time, however, the astrologer was a member of the cabinet, and being also physician in ordinary, he, as one of the order, protected his brethren of Menar, who, as may be supposed, were in vain called upon to produce the tamra-pattra, or copper-plate warrant, for these lands.

=Māndhāta Rāja.=—Mandhata Raja,[11.1.12] a name immortalized in the topography of these regions, was of the Pramar tribe, and sovereign of Central India, whose capitals were Dhar and Ujjain; and although his period is uncertain, tradition uniformly assigns him priority to Vikramaditya, whose era (fifty-six years anterior to the Christian) prevails throughout India. There are various spots on the Nerbudda which perpetuate his name, especially where that grand stream forms one of its most considerable rapids. Chitor, with all its dependencies, was but an appanage of the sovereignty of Dhar in these early times, nor can we move a step without discovering traces of their paramount sway in all these regions: and in the spot over which I am now moving, the antiquary might without any difficulty fill his portfolio. Both Hinta and Dundia, the dependencies of Mainar, are brought in connexion with the name of Mandhata, who performed the grand rite of Aswamedha, or sacrifice of the horse, at Dundia, where they still point out the kund, or ‘pit of sacrifice.’ Two Rishis, or ‘holy men,’ of Hinta attended Mandhata, who, on the conclusion of the ceremony, presented them the customary pān, or ‘offering,’ which they rejected; but on taking leave, the Raja delicately contrived to introduce into the bira of pan, a grant for the lands of Mainar. The gift, though unsolicited, was fatal to their sanctity, and the miracles which they had hitherto [600] been permitted to form, ceased with the possession of Mammon. Would the reader wish to have an instance of these miracles? After their usual manifold ablutions, and wringing the moisture of their dhoti, or garment, they would fling it into the air, where it remained suspended over their head, as a protection against the sun’s rays. On the loss of their power, these saints became tillers of the ground. Their descendants hold the lands of Mainar, and are spread over this tract, named Bara Chaubisa, ‘the great twenty-four!’

We also passed in this morning’s march the village of Bahmania, having a noble piece of water maintained by a strong embankment of masonry. No less than four thousand bighas are attached. It was fiscal land, but had been usurped during the troubles, and being nearly depopulated, had escaped observation. At this moment it is in the hands of Moti Pasban,[11.1.13] the favourite handmaid of “the Sun of the Hindus.” This ‘Pearl’ (moti) pretends to have obtained it as a mortgage, but it would be difficult to show a lawful mortgager. Near the village of Bansera, on the estate of Fateh Singh, brother of Bhindar, we passed a seura or sula, a pillar or land-mark, having a grant of land inscribed thereon with the usual denunciations, attested by an image of the sacred cow, engraved in slight relief, as witness to the intention of the donor.

Hinta was a place of some consequence in the civil wars, and in S. 1808 (A.D. 1752) formed the appanage of one of the Babas, or infants of the court, of the Maharaja Sawant Singh. It now belongs to a subordinate Saktawat, and was the subject of considerable discussion in the treaty of resumption of the 4th of May 1818, between the Rana and his chiefs.

It was the scene of a gallant exploit in S. 1812, when ten thousand Mahrattas, led by Satwa, invaded Mewar. Raj Singh, of the Jhala tribe, the chief of Sadri,[11.1.14] and descendant of the hero who rescued that first of Rajput princes, Rana Partap, had reached the town of Hinta in his passage from court to Sadri, when he received intelligence that the enemy was at Salera, only three miles distant. He was recommended to make a slight detour and go by Bhindar; but having no reason for apprehension, he rejected the advice, and proceeded on his way. He had not travelled half-a-mile, when they fell in with the marauders, who looked upon his small but well-mounted band as legitimate prey. But, in spite of the odds, they preferred death to the surrender of their equipments, and an action ensued, in which the Raj, after performing miracles of valour, regained the fort, with eight only of his three hundred and fifty retainers. The news reaching Kushal Singh, the chief of Bhindar, who, besides the [601] sufficient motive of Rajputi, or ‘chivalry,’ was impelled by friendship and matrimonial connexion, he assembled a trusty band, and marched to rescue his friend from captivity and his estate from mortgage for his ransom. This little phalanx amounted only to five hundred men, all Saktawats, and of whom three-fourths were on foot. They advanced in a compact mass, with lighted matches, the cavaliers on either flank, with Kushal at their head, denouncing death to the man who quitted his ranks, or fired a shot without orders. They were soon surrounded by the cloud of Mahratta horse; but resolve was too manifest in the intrepid band even for numbers to provoke the strife. They thus passed over the immense plain between Bhindar and Hinta, the gates of which they had almost reached, when, as if ashamed at seeing their prey thus snatched from their grasp, the word was given, “Barchhi de!” and a forest of Mahratta lances, each twelve feet long, bristled against the Saktawats. Kushal called a halt, wheeled his cavaliers to the rear, and allowed the foe to come within pistol-shot, when a well-directed volley checked their impetuosity, and threw them into disorder. The little band of cavalry seized the moment and charged in their turn, gave time to load again, and returned to their post to allow a second volley. The gate was gained, and the Sadri chief received into the ranks of deliverers. Elated with success, the Maharaja promptly determined rather to fight his way back than coop himself up in Hinta, and be starved into surrender; all seconded the resolution of their chief, and with little comparative loss they regained Bhindar. This exploit is universally known, and related with exultation, as one of the many brilliant deeds of “the sons of Sakta,” of whom the Maharaja Kushal Singh was conspicuous for worth, as well as gallantry.

=Morwan=,[11.1.15] January 31.—The last day of January (with the thermometer 50° at daybreak) brought us to the limits of Mewar. I could not look on its rich alienated lands without the deepest regret, or see the birthright of its chieftains devolve on the mean Mahratta or ruthless Pathan, without a kindling of the spirit towards the heroes of past days, in spite of the vexations their less worthy descendants occasion me; less worthy, yet not worthless, for having left my cares behind me with the court, where the stubbornness of some, the voices and intrigues of others, and the apathy of all, have deeply injured my health. There is something magical in absence; it throws a deceitful medium between us and the objects we have quitted, which exaggerates their amiable qualities, and curtails the proportions of their vices. I look upon Mewar as the land of my adoption, and, linked with all the associations of my early hopes and [602] their actual realization, I feel inclined to exclaim with reference to her and her unmanageable children,

Mewar, with all thy faults, I love thee still.

The virtues owe an immense debt to the present feudal nobility, not only of Mewar but of Rajputana, and it is to be hoped that the rising generation will pay to it what has been withheld by the past; that energy and temperance will supersede opium and the juice of the mahua,[11.1.16] and riding in the ring, replace the siesta, and the tabor (tabla) and lute. I endeavoured to banish some of these incentives to degeneracy; nor is there a young chieftain, from the heir-apparent to the throne to the aspirant to a skin of land (when opportunity was granted), from whom I have not exacted a promise, never to touch that debasing drug, opium. Some may break this pledge, but many will keep it; especially those whose minority I protected against court-faction and avarice: such a one as Arjun Singh, the young chief of Basai, of the Sangawat branch of the Chondawat clan. His grandfather (for his father was dead) had maintained the old castle and estate, placed on the elevated Uparmal, against all attempts of the Mahrattas, but had incurred the hatred of Bhim Singh of Salumbar, the head of his clan, who in S. 1846 dispossessed him, and installed a junior branch in the barony of Basai. But the energetic Takht Singh regained his lost rights, and maintained them, until civil broils and foreign foes alike disappeared, on their connexion with the British in 1818. Then the veteran chief, with his grandson, repaired to court, to unite in the general homage to their prince with the assembled chiefs of Mewar. But poverty and the remembrance of old feuds combined to dispossess the youth, and the amount of fine (ten thousand rupees) had actually been fixed for the installation of the interloper, who was supported by all the influence of the chief of Salumbar. This first noble of Mewar tried to avail himself of my friendship to uphold the cause of his protégé, Barad Singh, whom he often brought me to visit, as did old Takhta his grandson. Both were of the same age, thirteen; the aspirant to Basai, fair and stout, but heavy in his looks; while the possessor, Arjun, was spare, dark, and beaming with intelligence. Merit and justice on one side; stupidity and power on the other. But there were duties to be performed; and the old Thakur’s appeal was not heard in vain. “Swamidharma and this” (putting his hand to his sword), said the aged chief, “have hitherto preserved our rights; now, the cause of [603] the child is in his sovereign’s hands and yours; but here money buys justice, and right yields to favour.” The Rana, though he had assented to the views of Salumbar, left the case to my adjudication. I called both parties before me, and in their presence, from their respective statements, sketched the genealogical tree, exhibiting in the remote branches the stripling’s competitors, which I showed to the Rana. Ever prone to do right when not swayed by faction, he confirmed Arjun’s patent, which he had given him three years previously, and girt him with the sword of investiture. This contest for his birthright was of great advantage to the youth; for his grandfather was selected to command the quotas for the defence of the frontier fortress of Jahazpur, a duty which he well performed; and his grandson accompanied him and was often left in command while he looked after the estate. Both came to visit me at Chitor. Arjun was greatly improved during his two years’ absence from the paternal abode, and promises to do honour to the clan he belongs to. Amongst many questions, I asked “If he had yet taken to his amal?” to which he energetically replied, “My fortunes will be cracked indeed, if ever I forget any injunction of yours.”

But a truce to digression: the whole village Panchayat has been waiting this half hour under the spreading bar[11.1.17] tree, to tell me, in the language of homely truth, khush hain Compani sahib ke partap se, that “by the auspices of Sir Company they are happy; and that they hope I may live a thousand years.”

I must, therefore, suspend my narrative, whilst I patiently listen till midnight to dismal tales of sterile fields, exhausted funds, exiles unreturned, and the depredations of the wild mountain Bhil [604].

-----

Footnote 11.1.1:

[Twenty-four miles E. of Udaipur city.]

Footnote 11.1.2:

See treaty between the Rana and his chiefs, Vol. I. p. 243. [Signed A.D. 1818.]

Footnote 11.1.3:

The sequel of this feud has been related, Vol. I. p. 511.

Footnote 11.1.4:

The balahi or balaiti is the shepherd of the community, who drives the village flock to the common pasturage; and, besides his serana, has some trifling reward from every individual. It is his especial duty to prevent cattle-trespasses. [For a good account of allowances to village servants and menials see B. H. Baden-Powell, The Indian Village Community, 16 ff.]

Footnote 11.1.5:

[Properly the leather bag by means of which water is raised for irrigation.]

Footnote 11.1.6:

This goes to feed the cultivator, if he works himself.

Footnote 11.1.7:

[The yield of coarse sugar (gur) is now estimated at 30 or 40 maunds (28½ cwt.) per acre; but as much as 50 maunds (36 cwt.) has been recorded (Watt, Econ. Prod. 947).]

Footnote 11.1.8:

[The flowering of the cane is regarded as an evil omen. In India the cane rarely seeds; in fact, it is rarely allowed to flower (Watt, Econ. Dict. vi. Part ii. 83).]

Footnote 11.1.9:

[The king may take an eighth, sixth, or twelfth part of the crop (Manu, Laws, vii. 130).]

Footnote 11.1.10:

[Mālwa or Mālava is derived from the tribe of that name, but the name Mālava-desa, ‘land of the Mālavas,’ is not mentioned in Sanskrit literature before the second century B.C.; and the tract now known as Mālwa was not called by that name till the tenth century A.D., or even later (IGI, xvii. 100 f.; BG, i. Part i. 28, Part ii. 311).]

Footnote 11.1.11:

[Sāsan, land granted to Brāhmans, Ascetics, Chārans, and Bhāts, by royal decree and rent-free. It pays nothing but some miscellaneous taxes, is inalienable, but it can be mortgaged.]

Footnote 11.1.12:

[Māndhātri, son of Yuvanāswa of the race of Ikshwāku, a legendary monarch, is said to have “reduced the seven continental zones under his dominion” (Vishnu Purāna, 363; Dowson, Classical Dict., s.v.). The holy place Māndhāta in the Nimār District, Central Provinces, is said to take its name from him (Gazetteer Central Provinces, 1870, p. 258).]

Footnote 11.1.13:

[Pāsbān means ‘a watcher.’ Dr. Tessitori writes that the proper form of the word is Pāsvān or Pāsvāni, a term applied to the confidential domestics of a chief, and it is often, as in this case, synonymous with ‘favourite.’ It denotes no particular caste, but is commonly applied to a slave favourite or concubine.]

Footnote 11.1.14:

[Bari Sādri, about 40 miles S.S.E. of Udaipur city.]

Footnote 11.1.15:

[Not found in Major Erskine’s or other official maps: in the Author’s map “Mhorun.”]

Footnote 11.1.16:

[Bassia latifolia, from the petals of which a coarse kind of spirits is made (Watt, Comm. Prod. 116 ff.: Yule, Hobson-Jobson, 2nd ed. 574 f.).]

Footnote 11.1.17:

[The banyan, ficus indica.]

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Chapter 2

=The Chief of Hīnta.=—I was not deceived; it is now midnight, but, late as it is, I will introduce to the readers a few of my visitors. The chief of Hinta, who was absent at his patrimonial estate of Kun, on the hills of Chappan,[11.2.1] sent his brother and his homme d’affaires to make his compliments to me, and express his regret that he could not offer them personally at Hinta, which he said was “my own township.” This was not mere customary civility. Hinta had been taken by the Saktawats soon after the commencement of the civil wars of S. 1824, which was within the period (A.D. 1766) fixed by the general arrangements of the 4th of May 1818, for restitution; and it was impossible, without departing from the principle on which they were based, that the chief should retain it, though he could plead the prescriptive right of half-a-century.

The discussions regarding Hinta were consequently very warm: the renunciation of ten valuable townships by the Maharaja Zorawar Singh of Bhindar, the head of the Saktawat clans, did not annoy the Bhindar chief so much as his failure to retain Hinta as one of his minor feuds: nay, the surrender of Arja, the price of blood, a far more important castle and domain, by his own brother Fateh Singh (the original acquisition of which sealed the conclusion of a long-standing feud), excited less irritation than the demand that Hinta should revert to the fisc. “It is the key of Bhindar,” said the head of the clan. “It was a Saktawat allotment from the first,” exclaimed his brother. “The Ranawat was an interloper,” cried another. “It is my bapota, the abode of my fathers,” was the more feeling expression of the occupant. It was no light task to deal with such arguments; especially when an appeal to the dictates of reason and justice was thwarted by the stronger impulse of self-interest. But in a matter involving so important a stipulation of the treaty, which required “that all fiscal possessions which, since S. 1822 (A.D. 1766), the commencement of the civil wars, had, by whatever means, passed from the Rana to the chieftains, should be reclaimed,” firmness was essential to the success of a measure on which [605] depended the restoration of order. The Saktawats behaved nobly, and with a purely patriotic spirit throughout the scene, when almost all had to relinquish important possessions. The issue was, that Hinta, with its domain, after remaining twelve months incorporated with the fisc, was restored to Zorawar, but curtailed of Dundia and its twelve hundred acres, which, though united to Hinta, was a distinct township in the old records. Having paid ten thousand rupees as the fine of relief, the chief was girt with the sword, and re-established in his bapota, to the great joy of the whole clan.

Hinta is burdened with the service of fourteen horse and fourteen foot; its rekh, or nominal value, in the patta-bahi, or ‘record of fiefs,’ being seven thousand rupees; but, in consideration of the impoverished condition of his estate, the chief was only called on to furnish five horse and eight foot. The present possessor of Hinta is an adoption from the chieftainship of Kun; but, contrary to established usage, he holds both Hinta and Kun, his parent fief, whereby he has a complex character, and conflicting duties to fulfil. As chief of Kun, he belongs to the third class of nobles, styled gol, and is subject to constant personal attendance on the Rana; as lord of Hinta, too, he has to furnish a quota to serve “at home or abroad!” Being compelled to appear at court in person, his quota for Hinta was placed under the charge of Man Singh (another of the Saktawat sub-vassalage), and was sent to the thana of little Sadri, on the Malwa frontier, to guard it from the depredations of the forester Bhil. But I was commissioned by the Rana to reprimand the representative of Hinta, and to threaten him with the re-sequestration of the estate, if he did not better perform the service for which he held it. In consequence of this remonstrance, I became acquainted with a long tale of woe; and Man Singh’s vindication from a failure of duty will introduce a topic worthy of notice connected with the feudal system of Mewar, namely, the subdivision of fiefs.

Man Singh Saktawat is a younger branch of the Lawa family, and one of the infants who escaped the massacre of Sheogarh, when Lalji Rawat and two generations were cut off to avenge the feud with Kurabar. In order, however, to understand the claims of Man Singh, we must go back to the period when Lalji Rawat was lord of Nethara, which, for some offence, or through some court-intrigue, was resumed, and bestowed on one of the rival clan of Chondawat. Being a younger branch of the Bansi family (one of the senior subdivisions of Bhindar), Lalji was but slenderly provided for in the family allotment (bat). On losing Nethara, he repaired to Dungarpur, whose Rawal gave him a grant of Sheogarh, an almost inaccessible fort on the [606] borders of the two countries. Thus compelled, through faction, to seek subsistence out of his native soil, Lalji renounced his loyalty, and with his sons, now Barwatias or ‘outlaws,’ resolved to prey upon Mewar. They now looked to Bhindar, the head of their clan, as their lord, and joined him in opposing their late sovereign in the field, levying blackmail from the estates of their rivals; or, when the influence of the latter sunk at court, and was supplanted by the clan of Saktawat, Lalji poised his lance in the train of his chief in defence of the throne. Thus passed his life, a chequered course of alternate loyalty and treason, until its tragical close at Sheogarh.[11.2.2]

Sangram Singh, the eldest son of Lalji,[11.2.3] with his infant nephews, Jai Singh and Nahar (who was absent), escaped the avenger’s sword, under which perished his father, mother, both brothers, and all his own children, at one fell swoop! Sangram succeeded to the possession of Sheogarh, and to the feuds of his family. His nephew, young Nahar, joined in all his enterprises, from the defence of Kheroda to the escalade and capture of the castle of Lawa, in which he maintained himself until the Rana not only pardoned him, but gave him precedence above his enemies in his own councils.

Lawa was wrested by Sangram Singh Saktawat from Sangram Singh the Dudia, an ancient tribe, but like many others little known, until the incident we are about to relate gave it a momentary gleam of splendour, and afforded the bard an opportunity to emblazon its fame upon his page. Even in these regions, so full of strange vicissitudes, the sudden rise of the Dudia is a favourite topic of the traditional muse of Mewar.

=The Dudia Clan.=—Chandrabhan was the father of this meteor of the day; his sole wealth consisted of a team of oxen, with which he tilled a few bighas of land at the base of Naharamagra, the ‘tiger mount,’ where the Rana had a ramna or preserve, for the royal sport of tiger-hunting. It was during the autumnal harvest, when the Dudia had finished his day’s work, having put up the last rick of makkai (Indian corn), as he was driving home the companions of his toil, a voice hailed him from the wood. He answered, and advanced to the spot whence it issued, where he found a stranger, evidently of rank, with his horse panting for breath. After inquiring his tribe, and [607] being told “Rajput,” the stranger begged a little water, which was supplied, along with two coarse cakes of makkai, and a little chana-ka-dal, pulse cooked with ghi, or clarified butter, which the honest Dudia took out of a cloth not over clean. Having performed all the other duties which hospitality requires, the Dudia made his salaam, and was about to depart, when a train of horsemen coming in sight, he paused to look at them. All went up to the stranger; and, from the profound respect paid to him, he found that he had entertained no common guest.

It was in fact his sovereign, the Rana Jagat Singh, who delighted in the chase, and having that day been bewildered in the intricacies of Naharamagra, had stumbled on the Dudia carle. The latter expressed neither surprise nor delight when introduced to the Rana, and replied to all his questions with the frankness that grows out of the sentiment of honest pride and independence, which never abandons a Rajput, whatever be his condition.[11.2.4] The Rana was so much pleased with his rustic host, that he commanded a led horse to be brought forth, and desired the Dudia would accompany him to Udaipur, only ten miles distant. ‘The rocket of the moon’[11.2.5] (Chandrabhan), in his peasant’s garb, bestrode the noble charger with as much ease as if it were habitual to him. The next day the Dudia was conducted to the Presence, and invested with a dress which had been worn by his sovereign (a distinguished mark of royal favour), accompanied with the more solid reward of the grant of Kuwaria and its lands in perpetuity.

Chandrabhan and his benefactor died about the same time. Rana Raj had succeeded to the throne of Mewar, and Sardar Singh, son of Chandrabhan, did personal service for the lands of Kuwaria. It was a source of daily amusement for the prince and his youthful associates to plunge into the fountain at the Saheli-ki-bari,[11.2.6] a villa about two miles from the capital, on which occasions reserve was banished, and they gave themselves up to unrestrained mirth. The young Dudia had some peculiarities, which made him a butt for their wit. The following incident will show the character of these princely pastimes. It was one day remarked, that when refreshing in the kund, or reservoir, Sardar Singh did not lay aside his turban, which provoked a suspicion that he had no hair. The Rana, impatient to get a peep at the bare head of [608] the son of Chandrabhan, proposed that they should push each other into the water. The sport began, and the Dudia’s turban falling off, disclosed the sad truth. The jest, however, was not relished by Sardar; and he tartly replied, in answer to his sovereign’s question, “what had become of his hair?” that “he had lost it in his service, in a former birth, as Chela,[11.2.7] by carrying wood upon his head to feed the flame, when his sovereign, as a jogi, or ascetic, performed penance (tapasya) in the hills of Badarinath.” The prince felt that he had violated decorum; but the reply was pregnant with sarcasm, and his dignity must be maintained. “Sardar must bring proof of his assertion, or punishment awaits him,” was the rejoinder. The young chief, in the same lofty tone, offered the evidence of the Deota (divinity) of the temple of Kuwaria. This was a witness whose testimony could not be impugned, and he had leave to bring it forward.

At the village of Gopalpur, attached to his estate of Kuwaria, was a temple of the Bagrawats, a tribe little known, having a shrine of their divinity, who was personified by an image with a tiger’s (bagh) head.[11.2.8] “He invoked his support on this occasion, when the Deota threw him the flower[11.2.9] in his hand, and desired him to carry it to his sovereign.” He did so, and the Rana’s faith was too great to dispute the miracle. What honours could suffice for the man who had performed the most meritorious service to his prince in former transmigrations! Mang, ‘ask,’ was the sign of grace and favour. Sangram’s request was governed by moderation; it was for Lawa and its lands, which adjoined his estate at Kuwaria.

The Rana being yet a minor, and the queen-mother at the head of affairs, he hastened to her to be released from the debt of gratitude. But Lawa, unluckily, was held by herself; and although she was not heretic enough to doubt the miraculous tale, she thought the Dudia might have selected any other land but hers, and testily replied to her son’s request, that “he might give him Mewar if he chose.” Displeased at this unaccommodating tone, the prince quickly rejoined, “Mewar shall be his, then.” The word of a prince is sacred; he sent for Sangram, and thus addressed him: “I give you Mewar for the space of three days; make the best use of your time; my arsenals, my armouries, my treasury, my stables, my throne and its ministers, are at your command.”[11.2.10] The temporary Rana availed himself of this large [609] power, and conveyed to his estate whatever he had a mind to. During the abdication Sardar held his court, though he had too much tact actually to press the cushion of his master; but seated himself on one side of the vacant throne, attended by all the nobles, fully impressed with the sanctity of the individual who had attained such distinction. On the third day the queen-mother sent her son the patent for Lawa; and on the fourth the Dudia surrendered the sceptre.

With the wealth thus acquired, he erected a castle in his domain of Lawa, on which he expended nine lakhs of rupees, about £100,000. He formed a lake; and a single baori or reservoir, in the fort, cost another lakh. He built a splendid palace, whose china and mirror-halls are still the theme of encomium. These were greatly defaced by an explosion of a powder-magazine, which threw down half the fortress that had taken twenty years to complete; and though it underwent considerable repairs, it lost much of its splendour, which the guns of Holkar aided to diminish: but the castle of Lawa is still one of the finest in Mewar. Sardar Singh had also a grant of one of the royal mahalls or palaces of Udaipur, erected on the margin of the lake, after the model of the Jagmandir.[11.2.11] Although it now belongs to the chief of Amet, it is only recognized as the Dudia-ka-mahall; but its halls are the dwelling of the bat and the owl; the bar[11.2.12] has taken root in its light, airy porticoes, and its walls have every direction but the perpendicular. Sardar lived twenty years after the erection of Lawa; he died in S. 1838 (A.D. 1782), leaving one son, the heir of his honours and estates. Throughout his long life he lost no portion of the respect paid to his early years; but with him the name of Dudia again sunk into obscurity, or lived but as a memento of the instability of fortune. It was this son who, when driven from Lawa by Sangram Singh Saktawat, had no place of shelter, and died in indigence and obscurity. His son (grandson of Sardar, and great-grandson of the ‘rocket of the moon’) is now patronized by the heir-apparent, Prince Jawan Singh, and receives a daily allowance, but has not a foot of land.

Sangram, the Saktawat, had a regular sanad for the fief of Lawa, which was rated at twenty-three thousand rupees of annual rent, while Kuwaria has reverted to the fisc. The lake of Lawa, which irrigates some thousand acres of rice-land, alone renders it one of the most desirable of the secondary estates of Mewar. Sangram’s children being all murdered in the feud of Sheogarh, he was succeeded by Jai Singh (son [610] of Sheo Singh, his second brother), who was received as kaula, or son of adoption, by all the retainers of Lawa. While Sangram Singh lived, no subdivision of allotments took place; all, to use the words of Man Singh, “ate out of one dish”; and his own father Nahar, who had aided in the enterprise, having by a similar coup de main secured the estate of Banwal for himself, no necessity for such partition existed. But Banwal belonging to the fisc, to which it reverted on the restoration of order in A.D. 1818, young Man had no alternative but to turn round on Jai Singh, the adopted heir of Sangram, and demand his bat, or share of the lands of Lawa, in virtue of the right of joint acquisition, and as a younger brother. Jai Singh refused; but custom prevailed, and the village of Jethpura, of fifteen hundred rupees’ annual revenue, was bestowed upon the son of Nahar Singh. So long as Man Singh performed his duties to his chief, his share of Lawa was irresumable and inalienable: hence the stubborn tenacity of the chiefs of their share in the patrimonial acres, even when holding largely, but separately, of the crown, since of the latter, caprice or intrigue may deprive them; but their own misconduct alone can forfeit their bapota. The simple deed of conveyance will better establish this point!

“Maharao Sri Jai Singh, plighting his faith (bachanaita).

“At this time, Brother Man Singh, I bestow upon thee, of my own free will, the village and lands of Jethpura. This donative shall not look to ranrkas: suput, kuput:[11.2.13] your issue shall enjoy them. Of this intention I call the four-armed divinity (Chaturbhuj)[11.2.14] as witness. You are my own child (chhora): wherever and whenever I order, you will do my service: if you fail, the fault be on your own head.”

=Case of Mān Singh.=—Whether Man Singh failed in his duty to his superior, or otherwise, Jethpura was resumed; and having in vain endeavoured to obtain justice through the ministers, he came to me to solicit attention to his case. With the resumption of Kheroda, his brother, the chief of Lawa, lost half his nominal income; and it may therefore be conjectured he would not be slow to listen to any charge against Man, by which he might get back his allotment. On my departure for Marwar, in August 1820, he had written to me to say that Jai Singh had summoned him to evacuate Jethpura. In my reply, I said it was a matter for the Rana alone to decide. He accordingly went to court, and failing there, followed me; but, as at my desire he had been appointed to head the quotas on the Sadri frontier, and had performed this duty very negligently, I [611] received him coolly; this, however, only gave additional eagerness to his defence, as he assigned strong personal reasons for the neglect. But the son of ‘the tiger’ (Nahar Singh) shall speak for himself. Let the reader imagine a young man of twenty-five, above six feet high, of an athletic figure and chivalrous demeanour, his expression at once modest and independent, with those indispensable appendages to a Rajput warrior’s visage, well-trimmed favoris and moustache, and armed at all points: such was the lord-marcher (Simiswar), Man Singh. Having presented his patent for my perusal, he continued: “Had I failed in my obligations to my brother, he would have been justified in this step; but since you took Banwal from me, my retainers, at his beck, equalled his own in numbers; what right therefore had he to resume Jethpura? When Sangram Singh died, Lawa was in my hands: who could have prevented my keeping it, had it been my pleasure? The son of Nahar Singh would have been preferred by the vassals of Sangram to one they had never even seen; but I respected his rights, though even now he could not forcibly dispossess me. When the Thakur of Amet, on his way to court, beat his drums on the bounds of Lawa, did I not assemble my retainers and avenge the insult to my chief? My head was Jai Singh’s—that is, with the kunguras (battlements) of Lawa; but he never could have dared to take Jethpura, had not respect for the chief of Lawa, respect for the Rana, and for you, made me passive. Only bid me retake it, and I am not the son of Nahar Singh if he keeps it a day. Its little castle, erected by these hands, sheltered my wife and children, who, now expelled from my patrimony, are compelled to seek refuge elsewhere. The lands assigned me in lieu of Banwal are waste. For every rupee I can hope to derive from them, I must expend one; and on Jethpura alone could I raise any funds. Reckoning on this, I paid my fine of two thousand five hundred rupees for my paita (grant), and from its produce I looked to maintain my family and followers until the first should be made productive. When I lost this support, my creditors assailed me: to satisfy them, I sold all I had of value, even to my wife’s jewels, and the horse you saw me ride when I came to meet you at Gangapur. I laid my case before Prithinath,[11.2.15] and here is his reply, deciding in my favour. I represented it through Jawandas (a natural brother of the Rana), and five hundred rupees were demanded and agreed to by me, provided bachan (security) was given me of success. The Bikaneriji’s[11.2.16] was given; but the purse of the Thakur of Jethpura is not so long as the chieftain of Lawa’s, and one thousand rupees, offered by him, made his the juster cause! It is [612] this that makes me negligent of my duty; this which incited the Pathans to carry off my little harvest from Salera; and Bhairawi[11.2.17] is still in the hands of the foresters. Here is my case: if I demand aught that is not just, or that is contrary to usage, deal with me as you please. There is Fateh Singh, who holds in separate grant from the Rana an estate of thirty thousand rupees; but as a younger brother of Bhindar, he enjoys five thousand from his brother: and Ajit Singh of Asind,[11.2.18] though richer than his immediate head of Kurabar, yet, as the son of Arjun Singh, holds his allotment (bat) from him: but you know all this, why should I repeat it?” Here the Thakur concluded, without any interruption being given to his animated harangue, the interest of which was enhanced by his natural eloquence, and his manly but modest deportment. He is a noble specimen, not of his tribe alone, but of the human character. His appeal was irresistible; and would almost have carried conviction of its justice, even to those who could not have understood his tongue. Still it was requisite to steel myself against impulses; and I recommended, as the best mode of enabling me to advocate his cause, that he should repair to his post, and establish fresh claims to his sovereign’s regard, by punishing an atrocious act which in all probability his absence had occasioned. With the gift of a brace of pistols, and the usual leave-taking hint of itr-pan, Man Singh quitted my tent.

=A Foray of the Bhīls.=—And now for the melancholy occurrence which preceded that of the young Saktawat. On the borders of Little Sadri, where the quotas are posted, is a mountainous tract covered with deep forest, the abode of the half-savage Minas and Bhils. Mixed with them are the estates of some vassal chiefs, whose duty it is to repress their excesses; but, in such times as we have described, they more frequently instigated them to plunder, receiving a share of the spoils. Amongst the foremost in this association was the steward of Kalakot. At the foot of a pass leading into the wilds of Chappan was the hamlet of Bilia, occupied by a Rathor Rajput, who had snatched from the mountain-side a few bighas of land, and dug some wells to irrigate the arable patches about his cot. With severe toil he raised a subsistence for himself, his wife, and an only son, who was to inherit his patrimony. Returning homewards one day, after his usual labour, he was met by his wailing helpmate; she said the savage Bhil had rifled his cot, and with the cattle carried off their prop, their only child, and at the same time a young Jogi, his playmate. The afflicted father spake not a word, but loading his matchlock, took the road to Kalakot. What was his horror when [613], at the entrance of the village, he stumbled over the headless bodies of his boy and his young companion! He learned that the savages belonged to the lordship of Kalakot; that having conveyed the children from their home upon the cattle they had stolen, they were entering the place, when the young Rathor, recognizing the steward, called out, “Save me, uncle, and my father will ransom me at your own price!” This was the object for which he had been abducted; but these words proved that the steward was known to be the author of the outrage, and they were the last the child spoke. With this intelligence, the wretched father entered the ‘black-castle’ (Kalakot), in quest of the steward. He denied all participation in the abduction or the murder; and commiserating the Rathor’s misfortune, offered him four times the number of cattle he had lost, twice the amount of all his other losses, and to pay double the sum of margia, or money expended in the search. “Can you give me back my son?” was the only reply; “I want justice and vengeance, not money. I could have taken it in part,” continued he; “for what is life now? but let it fall on all.”

=An Ordeal by Oath.=—No attempt at consolation could diminish the father’s grief; but in promising him my aid to realize his vengeance, I gave him hope to cling to; and on handing him over to Man Singh, saying his own suit would be best promoted by the imprisonment of all concerned in this outrage, he quitted me with some mitigation of his grief. But before he left my camp, tidings arrived that the chief culprit was beyond the reach of man; that the Great Avenger had summoned to his own tribunal the iniquitous steward of Kalakot! Even in these regions of rapine, where the blood of man and of goats is held in almost equal estimation, there was something in the wild grief of the Rathor that sunk into the hearts of the vassals of Kalakot: they upbraided the steward, and urged him to confess the share he had in the deed. But he swore “by his God” he had none, and offered to ratify the oath of purgation in his temple. Nothing less would satisfy them, and they proceeded to the ordeal. The temple was but a few hundred yards distant. The steward mounted his horse, and had just reached the shrine, when he dropped dead at the threshold! It caused a deep sensation; and to the vengeance of an offended divinity was ascribed this signal expiation of the triple crime of theft, murder, and sacrilege. There now only remain the base accomplices of the wretch who thus trafficked with the liberty of his fellow-men; and I should rejoice to see them suspended on the summit of the Bilia pass, as a satisfaction to the now childless Rathor, and a warning to others who yet follow such a course [614].

-----

Footnote 11.2.1:

[Part of the water-shed of Central India, dividing the drainage into the Bay of Bengal from that of the Gulf of Cambay.]

Footnote 11.2.2:

See Vol. I. p. 512.

Footnote 11.2.3:

Lalji’s issue:

Sangram. ───── Sheo Singh. ───── Surthan Singh │ │ │ His children massacred Jai Singh. Nahar Singh. at Sheogarh. │ Man Singh.

Footnote 11.2.4:

In my days of inexperience, when travelling through countries unknown, and desirous to take the first peasant I found as a guide, I have been amused by his announcing to me, before a question was put, “I am a Rajput,” as if in anticipation of the demand and a passport to respect; literally, “I am of royal descent”: a reflection which lends an air of dignity to all his actions, and distinguishes him from every other class.

Footnote 11.2.5:

[‘Light of the Moon’: a rocket is bān.]

Footnote 11.2.6:

‘The nymphs’ parterre’; for the bari is more a flower-garden than one of indiscriminate culture.

Footnote 11.2.7:

Chela is a phrase which includes servitude or domestic slavery: but implies, at the same time, treatment as a child of the family. Here it denotes that of a servant or disciple.

Footnote 11.2.8:

[The true form of the clan name is Bagrāwat (Census Report, Rājputāna, 1911, i. 256) which can have no connexion with bāgh, ‘a tiger.’ It is probably derived from the Bāgar waste in Hissār District.]

Footnote 11.2.9:

That sculptured from the stone is meant.

Footnote 11.2.10:

[For temporary kings see Frazer, Golden Bough, 3rd ed. Part ix. 151, 403 f.]

Footnote 11.2.11:

[One of the island palaces, built by Rāna Jagat Singh (A.D. 1628-52).]

Footnote 11.2.12:

[The banyan, ficus indica.]

Footnote 11.2.13:

Ranrka is a phrase embracing mental or physical infirmity [meaning ‘a blockhead,’ ‘a ninny,’ from rānd, rānr, ‘a widow,’ a term of contempt]; here strengthened by the words which follow. Suput means ‘worthy,’ or ‘good issue’ (putra), as kuput, the reverse, ‘bad or incompetent issue.’

Footnote 11.2.14:

[Vishnu.]

Footnote 11.2.15:

[‘Lord of the World,’ a title of the Rāna of Mewār.]

Footnote 11.2.16:

One of the queens, a princess of Bikaner.

Footnote 11.2.17:

The two villages he obtained in lieu of Banwal.

Footnote 11.2.18:

[About 90 miles N.E. of Udaipur city.]

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Chapter 3

=Morwan=, February 1.—Yesterday, Man Singh took up the whole of my time with the feuds of Lawa and their consequences. It obliged me to halt, in order to make inquiries into the alienated lands in its vicinity. Morwan is, or rather was, a township of some consequence, and head of a tappa or subdivision of a district. It is rated, with its contiguous hamlets, at seven thousand rupees annual rent. The situation is beautiful, upon heights pleasingly diversified, with a fine lake to the westward, whose margin is studded with majestic tamarind trees. The soil is rich, and there is water in great abundance within twenty-five feet of the surface; but man is wanting! The desolation of solitude reigns throughout, for (as Rousseau observes) there is none to whom one can turn and say, que la solitude est belle!

I experienced another pang at seeing this fertile district revert to the destroyer, the savage Pathan, who had caused the desolation, and in the brief but expressive words of a Roman author, solitudinem facit, pacem appellat.[11.3.1] Morwan is included in the lands mortgaged for a war-contribution, but which with others has remained in the hands of the Mahratta mortgagees or their mercenary subordinates. But it is melancholy to reflect that, but for a false magnanimity towards our insidious, natural enemies, the Mahrattas, all these lands would have reverted to their legitimate masters, who are equally interested with ourselves in putting down predatory warfare. Justice, good policy, and humanity would have been better consulted had the Mahrattas been wholly banished from Central India. When I contrasted this scene with the traces of incipient prosperity I had left behind me, I felt a satisfaction that the alienated acres produced nothing to the possessor, save luxuriant grass, and the leafless kesula or palas [615].[11.3.2]

=Antiquities at Morwan.=—Morwan has some claims to antiquity; it derives its appellation from the Mori tribe, who ruled here before they obtained Chitor. The ruins of a fort, still known by the name of Chitrang Mori’s castle, are pointed out as his residence ere he founded Chitor, or more properly Chitror.[11.3.3] The tradition runs thus: Chitrang, a subordinate of the imperial house of Dhar, held Morwan and the adjacent tract, in appanage. One of his subjects, while ploughing, struck the share against some hard substance, and on examination found it was transmuted to gold. This was the paras-patthar,[11.3.4] or ‘philosopher’s stone,’ and he carried it forthwith to his lord, with whose aid he erected the castle, and enlarged the town of Morwan, and ultimately founded Chitor. The Dhulkot, or site of Mori-ka-patan, is yet pointed out, to the westward of the present Morwan. It was miraculously destroyed through the impieties of its inhabitants by fire, which fate recalls a more celebrated catastrophe; but the act of impiety in the present case was merely seizing a Rishi, or ‘hermit,’ while performing penance in the forest, and compelling him to carry radishes to market! The tradition, however, is of some value: it proves, first, that there were radishes in those days; and secondly, that volcanic eruptions occurred in this region. Ujjain-Ahar, in the valley of Udaipur, and the lake of which is said in some places to be atak, ‘deeper than plummet sounded,’ is another proof of some grand commotion of nature. Morwan boasts of three mandirs, or temples, one of which is dedicated to Seshnag, the thousand-headed hydra which supports the globe. Formerly, saffron was the meet offering to this king of reptiles; but he is now obliged to be content with ointment of sandal, produced from the evergreen, which is indigenous to Mewar.

Having heard of an inscription at the township of Aner, five miles distant, to the south-west, I requested my old Guru to take a ride and copy it. It was of modern date, merely confirming the lands of Aner to the Brahmans. The tablet is in the temple of Chaturbhuja (the four-armed divinity), built and endowed by Rana Sangram Singh in S. 1570 (A.D. 1514); to whose pious testament a codicil is added by Rana Jagat Singh, S. 1791, imprecating an anathema on the violator of it. There was also engraved upon one of the columns a voluntary gift, from the village-council of Aner to the divinity, of the first-fruits of each harvest; namely, two and a half sers from each khalla, or heap, of the spring-crops, and the same of the autumnal. The date, S. 1845 (A.D. 1789), shows that it was intended to propitiate the deity during the wars of Mewar [616].

Directly opposite, and very near the shrine of the “four-armed,” is a small Jain temple, erected, in S. 1774, to cover an image of the great pontiff, Parsvanath, found in digging near this spot. Here at every step are relics of past ages.

February 2.—An accident has compelled another halt at Morwan. The morning was clear and frosty, not a cloud in the sky, and we rose with the sun; my kinsman, Captain Waugh, to try his Arab at a nilgae, and myself to bag a few of the large rock-pigeons which are numerous about Morwan. My friend, after a hard run, had drawn blood from the elk, and was on the point of spearing him effectually just as he attained a thick part of the jungle, which not heeding, horse and rider came in contact with a tree, and were dashed with violence to the ground. There he lay insensible, and was brought home upon a charpai, or cot, by the villagers, much bruised, but fortunately with no broken bones. A leech was not to be had in any of the adjacent villages; and the patient complaining chiefly of the hip-bone, we could only apply emollients and recommend repose. I returned with no game except one or two black-partridges and batten-quail. The rock-pigeon, or barr-titar, though unaccustomed to the fowler, were too wild for me to get a shot at them. The bird bears no analogy to the pigeon, but has all the rich game plumage of the titar, or partridge, in which name the ornithologist of the west will see the origin of tetrao. There are two species of this bird in India, one much smaller than the common partridge; that of which I speak is much larger, and with the peculiarity of being feathered to the toe. I have since discovered it to be the counterpart of a bird in the museum at Chambéry, called 'barteveldt des Alpes'; the ptarmigan of the highlands of Scotland. The male has exactly these redundant white feathers; while that I saw in Savoy was a richly plumaged female barr-titar.

=Tale of a Tiger.=—Our annual supply of good things having reached us this morning, we were enjoying a bottle of some delicious Burgundy and “La Rose” after dinner, when we were roused by violent screams in the direction of the village. We were all up in an instant, and several men directed to the spot. Our speculations on the cause were soon set at rest by the appearance of two harkaras (messengers), and a lad with a vessel of milk on his head. For this daily supply they had gone several miles, and had nearly reached the camp, when having outwalked the boy, they were alarmed by his vociferations, “Oh, uncle, let go—let go—I am your child, uncle, let me go!” They thought the boy mad, and it being very dark, cursed his uncle, and desired him to make haste; but the same wild exclamations continuing, they ran back, and found a huge [617] tiger hanging to his tattered cold-weather doublet. The harkaras attacked the beast most manfully with their javelin-headed sticks, and adding their screams to his, soon brought the whole village, men, women, and children, armed with all sorts of missiles, to the rescue; and it was their discordant yells that made us exchange our good fare for the jungles of Morwan.

The ‘lord of the black rock,’ for such is the designation of the tiger, was one of the most ancient bourgeois of Morwan; his freehold is Kala-pahar, between this and Magarwar, and his reign for a long series of years has been unmolested, notwithstanding his numerous acts of aggression on his bovine subjects; indeed, only two nights before, he was disturbed gorging on a buffalo belonging to a poor oilman of Morwan. Whether this tiger was an incarnation of one of the Mori lords of Morwan, tradition does not say; but neither gun, bow, nor spear had ever been raised against him. In return for this forbearance, it is said he never preyed upon man, or if he seized one, would, upon being entreated with the endearing epithet of mamu or uncle, let go his hold; and this accounted for the little ragged urchin using a phrase which almost prevented the harkaras returning to his rescue.

=Disastrous Effects of Frost=, February 3.—Another halt for our patient, who is doing well, and greatly relieved by the application of leeches obtained from Nimbahera.[11.3.5] What a night! the clouds which had been alternately collecting and dispersing ever since we left Marwar, in December last, but had almost disappeared, as we commenced our present march, again suddenly gathered. The thermometer, which had averaged 41° at daybreak throughout the last month, this morning rose to 60°. On the 1st the wind changed to the south, with showers, where it continued throughout yesterday; but during the night it suddenly veered to the north, and the thermometer at daybreak was 28°, or four degrees below the freezing point. Reader, do you envy me my bon vin de Bourgogne et murailles de coton, with not even a wood fire, labouring under a severe pulmonary affection, with work enough for five men? Only three days ago the thermometer was 86° at noon, and to-day it is less at noon than yesterday at daybreak: even old England, with all her vicissitudes of weather, can scarcely show so rapid a change as this.

Ill-fated Mewar! all our hopes are blasted; this second visitation has frustrated all our labours. The frost of December, which sunk the mercury to 27° as we passed over the plains of Marwar, was felt throughout Rajwara, and blighted every pod of cotton. All was “burnt up”; but our poor exiles comforted [618] themselves, amidst the general sorrow, with the recollection that the young gram was safe. But even this last hope has now vanished: all is nipped in the bud. Had it occurred a month ago, the young plant would have been headed down with the sickle, and additional blossoms would have appeared. I was too unwell to ride out and see the ravages caused by this frost.

February 4.—Our patient is doing so well, that we look to moving to-morrow. Thermometer 28° at daybreak, and 31° at sunrise, with a keen cutting wind from the north. Ice closed the orifice of the mashak, or leathern water-bag. Even the shallow stream near the tents had a pellicle of ice on its surface: our people huddling and shivering round their fires of bajra sticks, and the cattle of all classes looking very melancholy.

=Temple of Māmā Devi.=—My Yati friend returned from Palod, where I had sent him to copy an inscription in a temple dedicated to Mama-devi, the mother of the gods; but he was disappointed, and brought back only the following traditional legend. The shrine, erected by a wealthy Jain disciple, was destined to receive the image of one of their pontiffs; but on its completion, Mama-devi appeared in propriâ personâ to the founder, and expressed so strongly her desire to inhabit it, that, heretic as he was, he could not deny the goddess’ suit. He stoutly refused, however, to violate the rules of his order: “By my hands the blood neither of goats or buffaloes can be shed,” said the Jain. But, grateful for the permission that a niche should be set apart for her sarup (form), she told him to go to the Sonigira chief of Chitor, who would attend to the rites of sacrifice. The good Jain, with easy faith, did as he was commanded, and erecting another temple, succeeded at length in enshrining Parsvanath. My old friend, however, discovered in a temple to Mataji, ‘the universal mother,’[11.3.6] an inscription of great importance, as it fixes the period of one of the most conspicuous kings of the Solanki dynasty of Nahrvala, or correctly, Anhilwara Patan; and, in conjunction with another of the same prince (which I afterwards discovered in Chitor), also bearing the very same date,[11.3.6] demonstrates that the Solanki had actually made a conquest of the capital of the Guhilots. The purport is simply that “Kumarpal Solanki and his son Sohanpal, in the month of Pus (the precise day illegible), S. 1207 (winter of A.D. 1151), came to worship the Universal Mother in her shrine at Palod.”[11.3.7] The Sesodias try to get rid of this difficulty by saying, that during the banishment [619] of Kumarpal by Siddharaja, he not only enjoyed saran (refuge) at Chitor,[11.3.8] but held the post of prime minister to Rawal Samarsi, the friend and brother-in-law of the Chauhan emperor of Delhi; but the inscription (given in the first volume), which I found in the temple built by Lakha Rana, is written in the style of a conqueror, “who planted his standard even in Salpur,” the city of the Getae in the Panjab. At all events, it is one more datum in the history of Rajputana.

February 5, thermometer 30°.—Mounted Bajraj, ‘the royal steed,’ and took a ride over the heights of Morwan, a wild yet fairy scene, with the Patar or table-land bounding the perspective to the east. The downs are covered with the most luxuriant grasses, and the dhak or palas dried by the wintry blast, as if scorched by the lightning, faintly brought to mind the poet’s simile, applied to this tree, even in the midst of spring: “The black leafless kesula.” We entered a village in ruins, whose nim trees bid defiance to winter; the ‘thorny babul’ (mimosa Arabica) grows luxuriantly out of the inner sides of the walls, and no hand invades the airy nest of the imitative papiha, fantastically pendent from the slenderest branches.[11.3.9] No trace of the presence of man; but evidence that he has been here. The ground was covered with hoar-frost, and the little stream coated with ice. Many a heavy heart has it caused, and plunged joyous industry into utter despondence. Take one example: yonder Jat, sitting by the side of his field, which he eyes in despair; three months since, he returned, after many years of exile, to the bapota, the land of his sires, without funds, without food, or even the implements for obtaining it. He had been labouring as a serf in other lands, but he heard of peace in his own, and came back to the paternal acres, which had been a stranger to the ploughshare since he was driven from his cot in S. 1844, immediately following the battle of Harkiakhal, when the “Southron” completed the bondage of Mewar. What could he do? his well was dried up, and if not, he had no cattle to irrigate a field of wheat or barley. But Mewar is a kind mother, and she yields her chana crop without water. To the Bohra (the metayer) he promised one-fifth of the produce for the necessary seed and the use of a pair of oxen and a plough; one-fifth more was the share of the state from land so long sterile; there were three-fifths left for himself of his long-neglected but at once luxuriant fields. He watched the crop with paternal solicitude, from the first appearance of verdure to the approach of Basant, the joyous spring. Each night, as he returned to his yet roofless abode, he related the wonders of his field and its rapid vegetation; and as he calculated the produce, he anticipated its application; “so much shall go [620] for a plough, so much for the Bohra, so much in part payment of a pair of bullocks, and the rest will keep me in bread till the makkai crop is ready.” Thus the days passed, until this killing frost nipped his hopes in the bud, and now see him wringing his hands in the bitterest anguish! This is no ideal picture: it is one to be found in every village of Mewar. In this favoured soil there is as much of chana in the rabi harvest as of wheat and barley conjoined, and in the first crop sown in banjar, or soil long sterile, wheat and chana are sown together. It is a sad blow to the exiles; though happily in the crown-lands their distress will be mitigated, as these are rented on leases of five years, and the renters for their own sakes must be lenient, and moreover they are well watched.

February 6.—Still halting; our patient very well, though he feels his bruises; but we shall put him on an elephant to-morrow. The jealousy of the Mahratta had hitherto prevented the inhabitants from fulfilling their desire to come and visit me; but to-day, the elders forming the Panchayat, heading the procession, they came en masse. The authorities need not have feared exposing the nakedness of the land, which is too visible; but they apprehended the contrast of their condition with our poor subjects, who were at least unmolested in their poverty. It was a happiness to learn that this contrast was felt, and as the Patel presented to me an engaging little child, his daughter, he said, “Let not our misfortunes be our faults; we all belong to Mewar, though we are not so happy as to enjoy your protection and care.” I assured him, that although under the Turk, I should look upon them as my children, and the subjects of the Rana; and I have had it in my power to redeem this pledge—for, strange to say, even Amir Khan, seeing that the prosperity of the subject is that of the prince, has commanded his governor of Nimbahera to consult me in everything, and has even gone so far as to beg I would consider the place as under my authority. Already, following our example, he has reduced the transit duties nearly one-half, and begins to think the Farangi notions of economy better than his own, his loss having proved a gain.

=Nikumbh=, February 7: eleven miles.—Midway, passed through Chakurla, a village belonging to Amir Khan. Nikumbh is a taluk of Jawad, which with Mandipia was held by the Pindari freebooter, Fazil, while Jaswant Rao Bhao held them in jaedad. They are now leased to a Pandit by the Hakim of Jawad, which latter is assigned by Sindhia to his father-in-law, the Senapati. Nikumbh is a good village, but more than two-thirds depopulated, and the renter is prevented from being lenient, as he experiences [621] no mercy himself. Notwithstanding they have all been suffering as we have from this frost, an assessment is now levying. One poor fellow said to me, “I returned only three months ago from exile, and I had raised the mud-walls of my hut two feet, when my wife died, leaving me to take care of a boy eight years of age, and to get bread for both. If the walls were two feet higher I would cover it in; but though I have not a foot of land, my roofless half-finished cot is assessed a rupee and a half”: a gift of two rupees made him happier than his Hakim!

The country is beautiful, the soil rich, and water, as already mentioned, about twenty-five feet from the surface. We are now in the region of the flower sacred to “gloomy Dis,” the accursed poppy. The crop looks miserable from the frost, but those patches within the influence of the wells are partly saved by the fields being inundated, which expedient is always successful upon such visitations, if applied with judgment. The mountains touching great Sadri lay twelve miles south coming from Partabgarh, and ranging to Salumbar and Udaipur, where they commingle with the giant Aravalli.

=The Chāran Tribe. Marla=, February 8: seven miles.—Crossed two ridges running northward to Badesar. The intervening valleys, as usual, fertile, with numerous villages, but alienated to the southern Goths or the partisan Pathan. Passed many large townships, formerly in the fisc of Mewar, as Bari, Banota, Bambori, etc. In the distance, saw “the umbrella of the earth,” the far-famed Chitor. Marla is an excellent township, inhabited by a community of Charans, of the tribe Kachhela, who are Banjaras (carriers) by profession, though poets by birth. The alliance is a curious one, and would appear incongruous, were not gain the object generally in both cases. It was the sanctity of their office which converted our Bardais into Banjaras, for their persons being sacred, the immunity extended likewise to their goods, and saved them from all imposts; so that in process of time they became the free-traders of Rajputana. I was highly gratified with the reception I received from the community, which collectively advanced to me at some distance from the town. The procession was headed by the village-band, and all the fair Charanis, who, as they approached, gracefully waved their scarfs over me, until I was fairly made captive by the muses of Marla! It was a novel and interesting scene: the manly persons of the Charans, clad in the flowing white robe, with the high loose folded turban inclined on one side, from which the mala, or chaplet, was gracefully suspended; the Naiks, or leaders, with their massive necklaces of gold, with the image of the pitrideva (manes) depending therefrom, gave the whole an air of opulence and dignity. The females were uniformly [622] attired in a skirt of dark brown camlet, having a bodice of light-coloured stuff, with gold ornaments worked into their fine black hair; and all had the favourite churis, or rings of hathi-dant (elephant’s tooth), covering the arm, from the wrist to the elbow, and even above it. Never was there a nobler subject for the painter in any age or country; it was one which Salvator Rosa would have seized, full of picturesque contrasts: the rich dark tints of the female attire harmonizing with the white garments of their husbands; but it was the mien, the expression, the gestures, denoting that though they paid homage they expected a full measure in return. And they had it; for if ever there was a group which bespoke respect for the natural dignity of man and his consort, it was the Charan community of Marla.

It was not until the afternoon, when the Naiks again came to see me at my camp, that I learned the full value of my escape from the silken bonds of the fair Charanis. This community had enjoyed for five hundred years the privilege of making prisoner any Rana of Mewar who may pass through Marla, and keeping him in bondage until he gives them a got, or entertainment; and their chains are neither galling, nor the period of captivity, being thus in the hands of the captivated, very long. The patriarch told me that I was in jeopardy, as the Rana’s representative; but not knowing how I might have relished the joke, had it been carried to its conclusion, they let me escape, though they lost a feast by it. But I told them I was too much delighted with old customs not to keep up this; and immediately sent money to the ladies with my respects, and a request that they would hold their got (feast). The patriarch and his subordinate Naiks and their sons remained with me to discourse on the olden time.

The founders of this little colony accompanied Rana Hamir from Gujarat in the early part of his reign, and although five centuries have elapsed, they have not parted with one iota of their nationality or their privileges since that period: neither in person, manners, or dress, have they anything analogous to those amidst whom they dwell. Indeed, their air is altogether foreign to India, and although they have attained a place, and that a high one, amongst the tribes of Hind, their affinity to the ancient Persian is striking; the loose robe, high turban, and flowing beard being more akin to the figures on the temples of the Guebres than to anything appertaining to the Charbaran, or four classes of the Hindus. But I must give the tale accounting for their settlement in Mewar. Rana Hamir, so celebrated in the history of Mewar, had a leprous spot on his hand, to remove which he made a pilgrimage to the shrine of Hinglaj, upon the [623] coast of Mekran, the division Oreitai of Arrian’s geography.[11.3.10] He had reached the frontiers of Cutch Bhuj, when alighting near a tanda, or encampment of Charans, a young damsel abandoned the meal she was preparing, and stepped forward to hold the stranger’s steed. Thanking her for her courtesy, he jocosely observed that he wished his people had as good a breakfast as she was preparing, when she immediately made an offering of the contents of the vessel; on which Hamir observed, it would go but a short way to satisfy so many hungry mouths. “Not if it pleased Hinglajji,” she promptly replied; and placing the food before the Rana and his train, it sufficed for all their wants. A little well, which she excavated in the sand, was soon filled with a copious supply of water, which served to quench their thirst. It was an evident interposition of the goddess of Hinglaj in favour of this her royal votary. He returned from her shrine cured, and the young Charani’s family were induced to accompany him to Mewar, where he bestowed upon them the lands of Marla, with especial immunities in their mercantile capacity: and as a perpetual remembrance of the miraculous feast, permission was granted to the Charani damsels to make captive of their sovereign as related above.

The colony, which now consists of some thousands of both sexes, presented an enigma to our young Englishmen, who think “all black fellows alike,” and equally beneath notice: it was remarked how comfortable they looked in house and person, though there was not a vestige of cultivation around their habitations. The military policy of the troubled period accounts for the first; and a visit to the altars of Marla will furnish the cause of the neglect of the agrarian laws of Mewar. As the community increased in numbers, the subdivision of the lands continued, according to the customs of Cutch, until a dispute regarding limits produced a civil war. A ferocious combat ensued, when the wives of the combatants who were slain ascended the funeral pile; and to prevent a similar catastrophe, imprecated a curse on whomever from that day should cultivate a field in Marla; since which the land has lain in absolute sterility! Such is the implicit reverence for the injunction of a Sati, at this moment of awful inspiration, when about to take leave of the world. In Mewar, the most solemn of all oaths is that of the Sati. Maha sati an-ki-an, ‘by the great Satis,’ is an adjuration frequently used in the royal patents.

The tanda or caravan, consisting of four thousand bullocks, has been kept up amidst all the evils which have beset this land, through Mogul and Mahratta tyranny. The utility of these caravans, as general carriers to conflicting armies, and as regular tax-paying subjects, has proved their safeguard, and they were too strong [624] to be pillaged by any petty marauder, as any one who has seen a Banjara encampment will be convinced. They encamp in a square; their grain-bags piled over each other breast-high, with interstices left for their matchlocks, make no contemptible fortification. Even the ruthless Turk, Jamshid Khan, set up a protecting tablet in favour of the Charans of Marla, recording their exemption from dand contributions, and that there should be no increase in duties, with threats to all who should injure the community. As usual, the sun and moon are appealed to as witnesses of good faith, and sculptured on the stone. Even the forester Bhil and mountain Mer have set up their signs of immunity and protection to the chosen of Hinglaj; and the figures of a cow and its kheri (calf), carved in rude relief, speak the agreement that they should not be slain or stolen within the limits of Marla.

=Nīmbahera=: seven miles.—The soil, as usual, excellent; but from Ranikhera to Nimbahera the blue schist at intervals penetrates the surface, and there is but little superincumbent soil even to the bed of the stream, which makes an entire disclosure of the rock, over which flows a clear rivulet abounding with small fish, amongst which the speckled trout were visible. Ranikhera, through which we passed, is the largest township of this district, and was built by the Rani of Arsi Rana, mother of the present ruler of Mewar, at whose expense the temple, the baori or ‘reservoir,’ and the paved street, were constructed. Although in the alienated territory, I had a visit from its elders to complain of an indignity to the community by the Bhangi, or scavenger, of Lesrawan, who had killed a hog and thrown it into the reservoir, whose polluted waters being thus rendered unfit for use, the inhabitants were compelled to get a purer element from the adjacent villages. This baori is about half-a-mile from the town, and being upon the highway, the council and train very wisely stopped at the spot where the aggression had happened: and although the cavalcade of the Hakim of Nimbahera was in sight, advancing to welcome me, it was impossible to proceed until I heard the whole grievance, when adjured by “subjects of Mewar, and children of the Rana, though unhappily under the Turk,” to see their wrongs redressed. I might not have recorded this incident, but for its consequence; as the hog thrown into the reservoir of Baijiraj, ‘the royal mother,’ of Mewar, affords an instance of the extent to which mortgage is carried.

The Bhangis, or scavengers, of Ranikhera, the very refuse of mankind, had mortgaged their rights in the dead carcases of their town to a professional brother of Lesrawan; but, on the return of these halcyon days, they swerved from their bond [625]. The chieftain of Lesrawan espoused his vassal’s cause, and probably pointed out the mode of revenge. One morning, therefore, not having the fear of Jamshid of Nimbahera before his eyes, the said mortgagee slew his pig; and, albeit but the wreck of a human being, contrived to cast his victim into the pure fountain of ‘Queenstown,’ and immediately fled for saran to Bhindar. But what could be done to a wretch, who for former misdeeds had already suffered the dismemberment of an arm, a leg, and his nose? Here is the sentence! “To be paraded, mounted on an ass, his face blackened, with a chaplet of shoes round his neck, and drummed out of the limits of Ranikhera!” The fountain is now undergoing purification; and when the polluted waters are baled out, it is to be lustrated with the holy stream of the Ganges, and the ceremony will conclude with a got, or feast, to one hundred Brahmans. Previous to this, I took a peep at the humble altars of Ranikhera. All is modern; but there is one tablet which pleasingly demonstrates that both public feeling and public gratitude exist in these regions. This tablet, set up by the council of the town, recorded that Kistna, the Silpi or stone-cutter, did at his own expense and labour repair all the altars then going to decay; for which pious act they guaranteed to him and his successors for ever six thalis or platters of various viands, saffron, oil, butter, and several pieces of money, at every village fête. Doubtless such traits are not confined to Ranikhera. I accepted with kindness the offerings of the elders and assembled groups—a pot of curds and sundry blessings—and continued my journey to meet the impatient cavaliers of Nimbahera, who, to fill up the interlude, were karowling,[11.3.11] with matchlock and spear, their well-caparisoned chargers. The Khan was in the centre of the group, and we had a friendly, unceremonious dastabazi, or shaking of hands, without dismounting. He is a gentlemanly Pathan, of middle age, courteous and affable, and a very different personage from the two-handed Jamshid his predecessor, who lately died from a cancer in his back: a judgment, if we are to credit our Mewar friends, for his horrible cruelties and oppressions over all these regions, as lieutenant of Amir Khan during many years. The Khan welcomed me to Nimbahera with true Oriental politesse, saying, “that the place was mine”; and that he had received the “positive instructions of the Nawab Sahib (Amir Khan, whose son-in-law he is) to look upon me as himself.” I replied, that, in accepting such a trust, I could not say more than that I would, whenever occasion presented itself, act for him as if Nimbahera were really my own. The Khan had reason to find that his confidence was not misplaced; and while enabled to benefit him, I had also the opportunity of protecting the interests [626] of the feudatories, who by this alienation (as is fully related in the Annals of Mewar) were placed beyond the pale of the Rana’s power. The Khan, after accompanying me to my tents, took leave; but paid me a long visit in the evening, when we discussed all that concerned the welfare of his charge and the peace of the borders. As matters stand, it is a duty to conciliate and to promote prosperity; but it is melancholy to see this fertile appanage of Mewar in the hand of so consummate a villain as Amir Khan; a traitor to his master Holkar, for which he obtained the “sovereignty in perpetuity” of many rich tracts both in Mewar and Amber, without rendering the smallest service in return. Let this be borne in mind when another day of reckoning comes. Nimbahera is a considerable town, with an excellent stone circumvallation; and, being on the high road between Malwa and Hindustan, it enjoys a good share of traffic. Upwards of one hundred villages are attached to it, and it was estimated at three lakhs of rupees, of annual rent.

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Footnote 11.3.1:

[Tacitus, Agricola, xxx.]

Footnote 11.3.2:

[Butea frondosa.]

Footnote 11.3.3:

[Chitor was called Chitrakot after Chitrang Mori or Maurya, whose tomb and ruined palace are shown on the southern part of the hill (Erskine ii. A. 102).]

Footnote 11.3.4:

In the Hindi patthar, Sanskrit prastara, ‘stone, rock,’ we have nearly the πέτρος of the Greeks.

Footnote 11.3.5:

[In Tonk State, about 60 miles E. of Udaipur city.]

Footnote 11.3.6:

See inscription, Vol. II. p. 925.]

Footnote 11.3.7:

The style of this inscription is perfectly in unison with the inscriptions on the temples and statues of Egypt.

Footnote 11.3.8:

[Kumārapāla, when exiled, went to Kālambapattana, probably Kolam or Quilon in Travancore, and thence to Chitrakūta or Chitor (BG, i. Part i. 183). From thence he went to Ujjain, and it is impossible that he could have served Rāwal Samar Singh, who reigned about A.D. 1274-85, while the date of Kumārapāla’s reign is A.D. 1143-74.]

Footnote 11.3.9:

[Possibly the “papya” of the original text represents papīha, a variety of cuckoo, cuculus melanolencos. The baya or weaver-bird is apparently meant.]

Footnote 11.3.10:

[The name of the Oreitai is supposed to be represented in that of the Aghor River: they are the Neoritai of Diodorus (McCrindle, Alexander, 168, note 1; Smith, EHI, 106 f.).]

Footnote 11.3.11:

[Qarāvali, ‘skirmishing, a running fight.’]

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Chapter 4

=The Patār Plateau. Kanera=, February 13: nine miles.—A new feature in the face of Mewar was this day disclosed to us. At the termination of our short march, we ascended the Patar, or plateau of Central India, the grand natural rampart defending Mewar on the east. As we approached it, the level line of its crest, so distinct from the pinnacled Aravalli, at once proclaimed it to be a tableland, or rock of the secondary formation. Although its elevation is not above four hundred feet from its western base, the transition is remarkable, and it presents from the summit one of the most diversified scenes, whether in a moral, political, or picturesque point of view, that I [627] ever beheld. From this spot the mind’s eye embraces at once all the grand theatres of the history of Mewar. Upon our right lies Chitor, the palladium of Hinduism; on the west, the gigantic Aravalli, enclosing the new capital, and the shelter of her heroes; here, at our feet, or within view, all the alienated lands now under the ‘barbarian Turk’ or Mahratta, as Jawad, Jiran, Nimach, Nimbahera, Kheri, Ratangarh. What associations, what aspirations, does this scene conjure up to one who feels as a Rajput for this fair land! The rich flat we have passed over—a space of nearly seventy English miles from one table-range to the other—appears as a deep basin, fertilized by numerous streams, fed by huge reservoirs in the mountains, and studded with towns, which once were populous, but are for the most part now in ruins, though the germ of incipient prosperity is just appearing. From this height I condensed all my speculative ideas on a very favourite subject—the formation of a canal to unite the ancient and modern capitals of Mewar, by which her soil might be made to return a tenfold harvest, and famine be shut out for ever from her gates. My eye embraced the whole line of the Berach, from its outlet at the Udaisagar, to its passage within a mile of Chitor, and the benefit likely to accrue from such a work appeared incalculable.[11.4.1] What new ideas would be opened to the Rajput, on seeing the trains of oxen, which now creep slowly along with merchandise for the capital, exchanged for boats gliding along the canal; and his fields, for many miles on each side, irrigated by lateral cuts, instead of the cranking Egyptian wheel, as it is called, but which is indigenous to India![11.4.2] If the reader will turn to the map, he will perceive the great facilities for such an undertaking. He will there see two grand reservoirs within six miles of each other, the Pichola, or internal lake, having an elevation of eighty feet above the external one, the Udaisagar, whose outlet forms the Berach River; but for which the valley of the capital would be one wide lake and which, for want of proper regulation, once actually submerged a third of it. The Pichola may be called the parent of the other, although it is partly fed by the minor lake at the villa of Suheli-ki-bari. Both are from twelve to fourteen miles in circumference, in some places thirty-five feet deep, and being fed by the perennial streams from the Aravalli, they contain a constant supply of water. From the external lake to Chitor, the fall is so slight that few locks would be required; and the soil being a yielding one throughout, the expense of the undertaking would be moderate. There is plenty of material in the neighbouring hills and forests, and by furnishing occupation for the wild population, the work would tend not a little to reclaim them. But [628] where are the means? With this difficulty, and the severe blow to our incipient prosperity in this untimely frost, our schemes dissipate like the mist of the morning. But I cannot relinquish the conviction that the undertaking, if executed, would not only enable the Rana to pay his tribute, but to be more merciful to his subjects, for whose welfare it is our chief duty to labour.[11.4.3]

The summit of the Patar has a fertile soil, well-watered and well-wooded, and producing the mango, mahua, and nim; and were the appearance of the crops a criterion, we should say it was equal in fertility to the best part of Mewar. In ancient inscriptions, the term Uparmal is applied, as well as Patar, to this marked feature in the geological structure of Central India: the first being rendered exactly by the German oberland; the other signifying ‘flat,’ or table-land.

In the indented recesses of this elevated land, which covers an immense portion of Central India, there are numerous spots of romantic beauty, which enthusiasm has not failed to identify with religious associations. Wherever there is a deep glen, a natural fountain, or a cascade, the traveller will infallibly discover some traces of the ‘Great God’ (Mahadeva) of the Hindus, the creator and destroyer of life.

=Shrine of Sukhdeo. Human Scapegoats.=—By the stupidity of my guide, and the absence of the indefatigable Balgovind, my Brahman antiquarian pioneer, I lost the opportunity of seeing the shrine of Sukhdeo, situated in a dark cleft of the rock, not two miles from the pass where I ascended. In excuse, he said he thought, as my camp was near, that it would be easy to descend to the shrine of the “ease-giving” god, Sukhdeo (from sukh, ‘ease’);[11.4.4] but revocare gradum was an evil which, added to the necessity of extracting all the information I could from some of the opium-growers in attendance, deterred me. The abode of Sukhdeo is in a deep recess, well-wooded, with a cascade bursting from the rock near its summit, under a ledge of which the symbolic representative is enshrined. Around it are several guphas or caves of the anchorite devotees; but the most conspicuous object is a projecting ledge, named Daitya-ka-har, or ‘Giant’s-bone,’ on which those who are in search of “ease” jump from above. This is called the Vira-jhamp, or ‘warrior’s-leap,’ and is made in fulfilment of vows either for temporal or future good.[11.4.5] Although most of the leapers perish, some instances of escape are recorded. The love of offspring is said to be the principal motive to this pious act of [629] saltation; and I was very gravely told of one poor woman, whose philoprogenitive bump was so great, that she vowed to take the leap herself with her issue; and such, says the legend, was her faith, that both escaped. A Teli, or oilman, was the last jumper of Sukhdeo, and he was no less fortunate; to him the ‘giant’s-bone’ was a bed of roses. So much for the faith of the oilman of Jawad! There are many such Leucotheas in this region of romance:[11.4.6] that at Omkar, on the Nerbudda, and the sacred mount Girnar, are the most celebrated.

Until the last sixty years, the whole of the plateau, as far as the Chambal, belonged to Mewar; but all, with the exception of Kanera, are now in the hands of Sindhia. Kanera is the chief township of a small district of twenty-two villages, which, by the change of events, has fortunately reverted to the Rana, although it was not extricated from the grasp of the Mahrattas without some difficulty; it was taken first, and the right of repossession argued afterwards. Would we had tried the same process with all the rest of the plateau; but unhappily they were rented to old Lalaji Balal, a lover of order, and an ally of old Zalim Singh! But let me repeat, for the tenth time, that all these lands are only held by Sindhia on mortgage for war-contributions, paid over and over again; and when an opportunity occurs, let this be a record, and the Patar west of the Chambal be restored to Mewar.

I was delighted to see that the crops of Kanera had only partially suffered from the ravages of the frost of the 3rd, 4th, to 25th, which extended over Malwa, and that although the gram was destroyed, the wheat, barley, sugar-cane, and poppy, were abundant and little injured; though we could have wished that the last-named pernicious plant, which is annually increasing all over these regions, had been sacrificed in lieu of the noble crops of vetches (gram).

That the culture of the poppy, to the detriment of more useful husbandry, is increasing to an extent which demands the strong hand of legislative restraint, must strike the most superficial observer in these regions. When the sumptuary laws of this patriarchal government were in force, a restraint was at the same time imposed on an improvident system of farming which, of course, affected the prince, whose chief revenues were derived from the soil; and one of the agrarian laws of Mewar was, that there should be to each charas, or skin of land, only one bigha of opium, and the same quantity of cane, with the usual complement of corn. But the feverish excitement produced by our monopoly of the drug has extended its culture in every direction, and even in tracts where hitherto it has never entered into their agricultural economy. Whatever [630], therefore, be the wisdom or policy of our interference in this matter, of the result there can be no doubt, namely, that it converted the agricultural routinières into speculators and gamblers.

=The History of Opium.=—A slight sketch of the introduction and mode of culture of this drug, which has tended more to the physical and moral degradation of the inhabitants than the combined influence of pestilence and war, may not be without interest.[11.4.7]

We are indebted to the commentaries of the imperial autobiographers, Babur, Akbar, and Jahangir, for the most valuable information on the introduction of exotics into the horticultural economy of India; and we are proud to pay our tribute of applause to the illustrious house of Timur, whose princes, though despots by birth and education, and albeit the bane of Rajputana, we must allow, present a more remarkable succession of great characters, historians, statesmen, and warriors, than any contemporaneous dynasty, in any region of the world.[11.4.8]

Akbar followed up the plans of Babur, and introduced the gardeners of Persia and Tartary, who succeeded with many of their fruits, as peaches, almonds (both indigenous to Rajputana), pistachios, etc. To Jahangir’s Commentaries we owe the knowledge that tobacco was introduced into India in his reign; but of the period when the poppy became an object of culture, for the manufacture of opium, we have not the least information. Whatever may be the antiquity of this drug, for medicinal uses, it may be asserted that its abuse is comparatively recent, or not more than three [631] centuries back.[11.4.9] In none of the ancient heroic poems of Hindustan is it ever alluded to. The guest is often mentioned in them as welcomed by the munawwar piyala, or ‘cup of greeting,’[11.4.10] but nowhere by the amal-pani, or ‘infused opiate,’ which has usurped the place of the phul-ra-arak, or ‘essence of flowers.’ Before, however, the art of extracting the properties of the poppy, as at present, was practised, they used the opiate in its crudest form, by simply bruising the capsules, which they steeped a certain time in water, afterwards drinking the infusion, to which they give the name of tijara, and not unfrequently post, ‘the poppy.’ This practice still prevails in the remote parts of Rajputana, where either ignorance of the more refined process, prejudice, or indolence, operates to maintain old habits.

The culture of opium was at first confined to the duab, or tract between the Chambal and Sipra, from their sources to their junction; but although tradition has preserved the fact of this being the original poppy-nursery of Central India, it has long ceased to be the only place of the poppy’s growth, it having spread not only throughout Malwa, but into various parts of Rajputana, especially Mewar and Haraoti.[11.4.11] But though all classes, Kunbis and Jats, Banias and Brahmans, try the culture, all yield the palm of superior skill to the Kunbi, the original cultivator, who will extract one-fifth more from the plant than any of his competitors.

It is a singular fact, that the cultivation of opium increased in the inverse ratio of general prosperity; and that as war, pestilence, and famine, augmented their virulence, and depopulated Rajputana, so did the culture of this baneful weed appear to thrive. The predatory system, which succeeded Mogul despotism, soon devastated this fair region, and gradually restricted agricultural pursuits to the richer harvests of barley, wheat, and gram; till at length even these were confined to a bare sustenance for the families of the cultivator, who then found a substitute in the poppy. From the small extent of its culture, he was able to watch it, or to pay for its protection from pillage; this he could not do for his corn, which a troop of horse might save him the trouble of cutting. A kind of moral barometer might, indeed, be constructed, to show that the maximum of oppression in Mewar was the maximum of the culture of the poppy in Malwa. Emigration commenced in S. 1840 (A.D. 1784); it was at its height in S. 1856 (A.D. 1800), and went on gradually depopulating that country until S. 1874 (A.D. 1818). Its consumption, of course, kept pace with its production, it having found a vent in foreign markets.

The districts to which the emigrants fled were those of Mandasor, Khachrod, Unel [632], and others, situated on the feeders of the Chambal, in its course through Lower Malwa.[11.4.12] There they enjoyed comparative protection and kind treatment, under Apa Sahib and his father, who were long the farmers-general of these fertile lands. It could not be expected, however, that the new settlers should be allowed to participate in the lands irrigated by wells already excavated; but Apa advanced funds, and appointed them lands, all fertile though neglected, in which they excavated wells for themselves. They abandoned altogether wheat and barley, growing only makkai or ‘Indian corn,’ for food, which requires no irrigation, and to which the poppy succeeds in rotation; to these, and the sugar-cane, all their industry was directed.

But to proceed with the process of cultivation. When the crops of Indian corn (makkai) or of hemp (san) are gathered in, the stalks are rooted up and burned; the field is then flooded, and, when sufficiently saturated, ploughed up. It is then copiously manured with cow-dung, which is deemed the best for the purpose; but even this has undergone a preparatory operation, or chemical decomposition, being kept in a hollow ground during the rainy season, and often agitated with long poles, to allow the heat to evaporate. In this state it is spread over the fields and ploughed in. Those who do not keep kine, and cannot afford to purchase manure, procure flocks of goats and sheep, and pay so much a night for having them penned in the fields. The land being ploughed and harrowed at least six or seven times, until the soil is almost pulverized, it is divided into beds, and slight embankments are formed to facilitate irrigation. The seed is then thrown in, the fields are again inundated; and the seventh day following this is repeated to saturation. On the seventh or ninth, but occasionally not until the eleventh day, the plant springs up; and on the twenty-fifth, when it has put forth a few leaves, and begins to look withered, they water it once more. As soon as this moisture dries, women and children are turned into the fields to thin the plants, leaving them about eight inches asunder, and loosening the earth around them with iron spuds. The plant is at this stage about three inches high. A month later it is watered moderately, and when dry, the earth is again turned up and loosened. The fifth water is given in about ten days more; two days after which a flower appears here and there. This is the signal for another watering, called ‘the flower-watering’; after which, in twenty-four or thirty-six hours, all the flowers burst their cells. When about half the petals have fallen, they irrigate the plants sufficiently to moisten the earth, and soon the rest of the flowers drop off, leaving the bare capsule, which rapidly increases in bulk. In a short period, when scarcely a flower remains, a whitish [633] powder collects outside the capsule, which is the signal for immediate application of the lancet.

The field is now divided into three parts, in one of which operations commence. The cutting-instrument consists of three prongs, with delicate points, around which cotton thread is bound to prevent its making too deep an incision, and thus causing the liquid to flow into the interior of the capsule. The wound is made from the base upwards, and the milky juice which exudes coagulates outside. Each plant is thrice pierced, on three successive days, the operation commencing as soon as the sun begins to warm. In cold mornings, when it congeals rapidly, the coagulation is taken off with a scraper. The fourth morning each plant is once more pierced, to ascertain that no juice remains. On each morning this extract is immersed in a vessel of linseed oil, to prevent it from drying up. The juice being all collected, there remains only the seed. The capsules are therefore broken off and carried to the barn, where they are spread out upon the ground; a little water is sprinkled over them, and being covered with a cloth, they remain till the morning, when the cattle tread out the seed, which is sent to the oilmen, and the refuse is burnt, lest the cattle should eat them, as even in this stage they are poisonous. Poppy oil is more used for the chiragh (lamp) than any other in Mewar. They calculate a maund (of forty sers, or about seventy-five pounds weight) of seed for every two sers of milk. The price of seed is now twenty rupees per mauni of one hundred and twelve (kachha) maunds.

One bigha of Malwa land, of the measure Shahjahani (when the jarib, or rod, is one hundred cubits long), will yield from five to fifteen sers of opium-juice, each ser being forty-five Salimshahi[11.4.13] rupees in weight: the medium is reckoned a good produce. The cultivator or farmer sells it, in the state described, to the speculator, at the price current of the day. The purchaser puts it into cotton bags of three folds, and carries it home. Having obtained the leaves of the poppy, he spreads them in a heap of two or three inches in depth, and thereon deposits the opium, in balls of fifteen rupees’ weight each, which are allowed to remain five months for the purpose of evaporation. If the milk has been thin, or treated with oil, seven parts in ten will remain; but if good and pure, eight. The beoparis (speculators) then sell it, either for home-consumption in Rajputana, or for exportation.

From the year S. 1840 (A.D. 1784) to S. 1857 (A.D. 1801), the market-price of the crude opium from the cultivator ran from sixteen to twenty-one Salimshahi rupees per dari, a measure of five pakka sers, each ser being the weight of ninety Salimshahi [634] rupees. I give the price of the drug by the grower in the first stage as a better criterion than that of the manufacturer in its prepared state. In the year S. 1857 it rose to twenty-five rupees; in S. 1860 to twenty-seven, gradually increasing till S. 1865 (A.D. 1809), when it attained its maximum of forty-two, or an advance of one hundred and seventy per cent above the price of the year A.D. 1784. But some natural causes are assigned for this extraordinary advance; after which it gradually fell, until S. 1870 (A.D. 1814), when it was so low as twenty-nine. In S. 1873 it had again risen to thirty-three, and in S. 1874-75, when its transit to the ports of Sind and Gujarat was unmolested (whence it was exported to China and the Archipelago), it had reached thirty-eight and thirty-nine, where it now (S. 1876, or A.D. 1820) stands.

In Kanthal[11.4.14] (which includes Partabgarh Deola), or the tracts upon the Mahi River, opium is cultivated to a great extent, and adulterated in an extraordinary manner. This being sold in China as Malwa opium, has greatly lessened the value of the drug in that market. The adulteration is managed as follows: a preparation of refined gur (molasses) and gum, in equal proportion, is added to half its quantity of opiate coagulum; the mass is then put into cauldrons, and after being well amalgamated by boiling, it is taken out, and when sufficiently dry is well beaten, and put into cotton bags, which are sewn up in green hides, and exported to Maskat-Mandavi. The Gosains of these parts are the chief contractors for this impure opium, which is reckoned peculiarly unwholesome, and is never consumed in Rajputana. Rumour says that it is transported to the Spice Islands, where it is used as a manure in the cultivation of the nutmeg. The transit-duties on opium, in the Native States, are levied on each bullock-load, so that the adulterated pays as much as the pure. The Gosains smuggle great quantities.

Such is the history, and I believe a pretty correct one, of the growth and extension of this execrable and demoralizing plant, for the last forty years. If the now paramount power, instead of making a monopoly of it, and consequently extending its cultivation, would endeavour to restrict it by judicious legislative enactments, or at least reduce its culture to what it was forty years ago, generations yet unborn would have just reason to praise us for this work of mercy. It is no less our interest than our duty to do so, and to call forth genuine industry, for the improvement of cotton, indigo, sugar-cane, and other products, which would enrich instead of demoralizing, and therefore impoverishing, the country. We have saved Rajputana from political ruin; but the boon of mere existence will be valueless if we fail to restore the [635] moral energies of her population; for of this fine region and noble race we might say, as Byron does of Greece—

'Tis Greece—but living Greece no more!

or the mind is decayed, and the body often palsied and worn out, in the very meridian of life. As far as my personal influence went, I practised what I preach; and, as I have already stated, exacted a promise, from the Rana on the throne to the lowest Thakur, that they would never initiate their children in this debasing practice. But as mere declamation can do very little good, I will here insert a portion of the Agrarian customary code of Mewar and Malwa, which may be brought into operation directly or indirectly. The distribution of crops was as follows.

=Distribution of Crops.=—To each charas, charsa, or skin of land, there is attached twenty-five bighas of irrigated land for wheat and barley, with from thirty to fifty bighas more, called mar, or mal, dependent on the heavens for water, and generally sown with gram. Of the twenty-five bighas of land irrigated from the well, the legislature sanctioned one bigha of opium, and ten to fifteen biswas (twenty biswas are a bigha) of sugar-cane. But in these days of anarchy and confusion, when every one follows his own view of things, they cultivate two of opium and three of cane, and perhaps two of barley, instead of twenty-five, to feed the family! What an unnatural state of agricultural economy is this, when the cultivator sometimes actually purchases food for his family, in order that he may bestow his time and labour on this enervating exotic! But should the foreign markets be closed, and famine, as is not unusual, ensue, what must be the consequence, where the finest corn-country in India is converted to a poppy-garden! In Haraoti they manage these things better; and although its old politic ruler makes use of the districts in Malwa, which he rents from the Mahrattas, for the culture of opium, being himself a trader in it, yet I do not believe he permits its demoralizing influence to enter within his proper domain. It is pleasing to see some traces of the legislative wisdom of past days, and old Zalim knows that it is by the more generous productions of the plough that his country must prosper. But our monopoly acted as an encouragement of this vice; for no sooner was it promulgated that the Compani Sahib was contractor-general for opium, than prince and peasant, nay, the very scavengers, dabbled in the speculation. All Malwa was thrown into a ferment; like the Dutch tulip-bubble, the most fraudulent purchases and transfers were effected by men who had not a ser of opium in their possession. The extent to which this must have gone may be imagined when [636], according to the return, the sales, in the first year of our monopoly, exceeded one million sterling, in which I rather think we gained a loss of some £40,000! It is to be hoped the subject is now better understood, and that the legislature at home will perceive that a perseverance in this pernicious traffic is consistent neither with our honour, our interest, nor with humanity.

If the facts I have collected are confirmed on inquiry, the late measures of Government,[11.4.15] in whatever motives originating, will only augment the mischief. Even admitting their expediency in protecting our Patna monopoly, and their justice as affecting the native governments (the contractors and cultivators of the drug), still other measures might have been devised, equally efficacious in themselves, and less pregnant with evil consequences.

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Footnote 11.4.1:

[Irrigation projects in Mewār have recently been studied by Sir Swinton Jacob and Mr. Manners Smith. “Among the most promising projects are a canal from Nāogāon on the Banās, two reservoirs on the Kothāri, and a reservoir on the Banās at Amarpura which, if carried out, will be one of the grandest works of the kind in India” (Erskine ii. A. 47).]

Footnote 11.4.2:

[Usually known in India as the Persian wheel, represented in Egypt by the Sākīeh (Lane, Modern Egyptians, 5th ed. ii. 26).]

Footnote 11.4.3:

Even now, as I transcribe this from my journal, I would almost (when “The Annals” are finished) risk a couple of years’ residence in “the happy valley,” where I scarcely ever enjoyed one day of health, to execute this and another favourite project—the reopening of the tin-mines of Jawara.

Footnote 11.4.4:

[Sukhada, ‘giving pleasure,’ an epithet of Vishnu.]

Footnote 11.4.5:

[Vīra, ‘a hero’; Skt. jhampa, Hindi, jhapat, ‘a spring, leap.’ In Rājasthāni, as Sir G. Grierson writes, the m may easily have been preserved, or more probably the a would be long, and the m converted into a pure nasal, Jhāp being written Jhamp. Another common form is Bhairava Jhamp, ‘the leap in honour of Bhairava,’ a form of Siva. (For human “scape-goats” of this kind see Crooke, Popular Religion and Folklore, 2nd ed. i. 256; Frazer, The Golden Bough, 3rd ed., The Scapegoat, 196 ff.).]

Footnote 11.4.6:

[Ino Leucothea, when Athamas, in a fit of madness, killed Learchus, their son, fled with her other son, Melicertes, across the plain of Megaris and threw herself with the boy (or, according to Euripides (Medea, 1289) with her two sons) into the sea. A. B. Cook, Zeus, i. 674.]

Footnote 11.4.7:

[For a good summary of the history of opium cultivation see Watt, Comm. Prod. 845 ff.]

Footnote 11.4.8:

In all the branches of knowledge which have reference to the comforts, the elegancies, and the luxuries of life, they necessarily bore away the palm from the Rajput, who was cooped up within the barriers of superstition. The court of Samarkand, with which the kings of Farghana were allied, must have been one of the most brilliant in the world for talents as well as splendour; and to all the hereditary instruction there imbibed, Babur, the conqueror of India, added that more useful and varied knowledge only to be acquired by travel, and constant intercourse with the world. When, therefore, his genius led him from ‘the frosty Caucasus’ into the plains of Hindustan, the habit of observation and noting in a book, as set before him by Hazrat Timur, all that appeared novel, never escaped him; and in so marked a transition from the highlands of Central India to the region of the sun, his pen had abundant occupation. No production, whether in the animal or vegetable kingdom, which appeared different from his own, escaped notice in his book, which must be looked upon as one of the most remarkable contributions to literature ever made by royalty; for in no age or country will a work be found at once so comprehensive and so simple as the Commentaries of Babur; and this in a region where everything is exaggerated. Whether he depicts a personal encounter on which his life and prospects hinged, or a battle which gave him the empire of India, all is in keeping; and when he relates the rewards he bestowed on Mir Muhammad Jaliban, his architect, for successfully executing his noble design of throwing a bridge over the Ganges, “before he had been three years sovereign of Hindustan,” and with the same simplicity records his own “introduction of melons and grapes into India,” we are tempted to humiliating reflections on the magniloquence with which we paint our own few works of public good, and contrast them unfavourably with those of the Transoxianic monarch, not then twenty-five years of age! Nor let the reader who may be induced to take up the volume fail to give homage to the translator,[11.4.8.A] whose own simple, yet varied and vigorous mind has transferred the very soul of Babur into his translation.

Footnote 11.4.8.A:

William Erskine, Esq., of Blackburne, who honours me with his friendship, and has stimulated my exertions to the task in which I am engaged, and another in which I trust to be engaged, some of the Books of the Poet Chand, so often alluded to in this work. [The Memoirs of Bābur or Bābar, translated by J. Leyden and W. Erskine, were published in 1826, and a reprint, edited by Sir Lucas King, is about to be issued by the Oxford University Press. An abridged version by Lieut.-Col. F. G. Talbot appeared in 1909. A new translation from an improved text, by Mrs. H. Beveridge, is now in course of publication.]

Footnote 11.4.9:

[For a statement of the evidence see Watt, op. cit. 845 ff.]

Footnote 11.4.10:

[Munawwar means ‘illuminated, bright, splendid.’]

Footnote 11.4.11:

[In S.E. Mewār, near Mālwa, opium used to be almost as common as wheat and barley, but the area has greatly decreased since 1899, with the fall in the price of the drug (Erskine ii. A. 44). Sir G. Watt, writing in 1908, says it was then restricted to Mālwa, Bihār, and the United Provinces (Comm. Prod. 851 ff.). Since then, under arrangements with the Chinese, the cultivation has been still further restricted.]

Footnote 11.4.12:

[Mandasor in Gwalior State, about 95 miles S.E. of Udaipur city (IGI, xvii. 150); Unel, 20 miles N. of Ujjain; Khāchrod, 45 miles S.S.E. of Mandasor.]

Footnote 11.4.13:

[The Sālimshāhi rupee takes its name from the Partābgarh chief, Sālim Singh, who issued them for the first time, A.D. 1784 (W. W. Webb, Currencies of the Hindu States of Rājputāna, 23 f.; Malcolm, Memoir of Central India, 2nd ed. ii. 85).]

Footnote 11.4.14:

[The Kānthal tract, now in Partābgarh State, was so called because it formed the border or boundary (kāntha) between Mewār on N., Bāgar on W., and Mālwa E. and S. (Erskine ii. A. 197).]

Footnote 11.4.15:

It is to be borne in mind that this was written on the spot, in January, A.D. 1820.

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