CHAPTER 25
=Leaving Udaipur.=—_October 11, 1819._—Two years had nearly sped since we entered the valley of Udaipur, the most diversified and most romantic spot on the continent of India. In all this time none of us had penetrated beyond the rocky barrier which formed the limit of our horizon, affording the vision a sweep of six miles radius. Each hill and dale, tower and tree, had become familiar to us; every altar, cenotaph, and shrine had furnished its legend, till tradition was exhausted. The ruins were explored, their inscriptions deciphered, each fantastic pinnacle had a name, and the most remarkable chieftains and servants of the court had epithets assigned to them, expressive of some quality or characteristic. We had our ‘Red Reaver,’ our ‘Roderic Dhu,’ and a ‘Falstaff,’ at the court; our ‘Catalani,’ our ‘Vestris,’ in the song or the ballet. We had our palace in the city, our cutter on the lake, our villa in the woods, our fairy-islands in the waters; streams to angle in, deer to [654] shoot, much, in short, to please the eye and gratify the taste:—yet did ennui intrude, and all panted to escape from the “happy valley,” to see what was in the world beyond the mountains. In all these twenty moons, the gigantic portals of Debari, which guard the entrance of the Girwa,[4.25.1] had not once creaked on their hinges for our egress; and though from incessant occupation I had wherewithal to lessen the _taedium vitae_, my companions not having such resources, it was in vain that, like the sage Imlac, I urged them not to feel dull in this “blissful captivity”: the scenery had become hideous, and I verily believe had there been any pinion-maker in the capital of the Sesodias, they would have essayed a flight, though it might have terminated in the lake. Never did Rasselas sigh more for escape. At length the day arrived, and although the change was to be from all that constitutes the enchantments of vision, from wood and water, dale and mountain, verdure and foliage, to the sterile plains of the sandy desert of Marwar, it was sufficient that it was change. Our party was composed of Captain Waugh, Lieutenant Carey, and Dr. Duncan, with the whole of the escort, consisting of two companies of foot and sixty of Skinner’s Horse, all alike delighted to quit the valley where each had suffered more or less from the prevalent fevers of the monsoon, during which the valley is peculiarly unhealthy, especially to foreigners, when the wells and reservoirs overflow from the springs which break in, impregnated with putrid vegetation and mineral poisons, covering the surface with a bluish oily fluid. The art of filtrating water to free it from impurities is unknown to the Rajputs, and with some shame I record that we did not make them wiser, though they are not strangers to the more simple process, adopted throughout the desert, of using potash and alum; the former to neutralize the salt and render the water more fit for culinary purposes; the latter to throw down the impurities held suspended. They also use an alkaline nut in washing, which by simply steeping emits a froth which is a good substitute for soap.[4.25.2]
On the 12th October, at five A.M., our trumpet sounded to horse, and we were not slow in obeying the summons; the “yellow boys” with their old native commandant looking even more cheerful than usual as we joined them. Skinner’s Horse[4.25.3] wear a jamah or tunic of yellow broadcloth, with scarlet turbans and cincture. Who [655] does not know that James Skinner’s men are the most orderly in the Company’s service, and that in every other qualification constituting the efficient soldier, they are second to none? On another signal which reverberated from the palace, where the drums announced that the descendant of Surya was no sluggard, we moved on through the yet silent capital towards the gate of the sun, where we found drawn up the quotas of Bhindar, Delwara, Amet, and Bansi, sent as an honorary guard by the Rana, to escort us to the frontiers. As they would have been an incumbrance to me and an inconvenience to the country, from their laxity of discipline, after chatting with their leader, during a sociable ride, I dismissed them at the pass, with my respects to the Rana and their several chieftains. We reached the camp before eight o’clock, the distance being only thirteen miles. The spot chosen (and where I afterwards built a residence) was a rising ground between the villages of Merta and Tus, sprinkled with trees, and for a space of four miles clear of the belt of forest which fringes the granite barriers of the valley. It commanded an entire view of the plains in the direction of Chitor, still covered, excepting a patch of cultivation here and there, with jungle. The tiger-mount, its preserves of game, and the mouldering hunting-seats of the Rana and his chieftains, were three miles to the north; to the south, a mile distant, we had the Berach River, abounding in trout; and the noble lake whence it issues, called after its founder the Udai Sagar, was not more than three to the west. For several reasons it was deemed advisable to choose a spot out of the valley; the health of the party, though not an unimportant, was not a principal motive for choosing such a distance from the court. The wretchedness in which we found it rendered a certain degree of interference requisite, and it was necessary that they should shake this off, in order to preserve their independence. It was dreaded lest the aid requested by the Rana, from the peculiar circumstances on our first going amongst them, might be construed as a precedent for the intrusion of advice on after occasions. The distance between the court and the agent of the British Government was calculated to diminish this impression, and obliged them also to trust to their own resources, after the machine was once set in motion. On the heights of Tus our tents were pitched, the escort paraded, and St. George’s flag displayed. Here camels, almost wild, were fitted for the first time with the pack-saddle, lamenting in discordant gutturals the [656] hardship of their fate, though luckily ignorant of the difference between grazing whither they listed in the happy valley, and carrying a load in “the region of death,” where they would only find the thorny mimosa or prickly _phog_[4.25.4] to satisfy their hunger.
=Pallāna.=—_October 13._—There being no greater trial of patience than the preparations for a march after a long halt, we left the camp at daybreak amidst the most discordant yells from the throats of a hundred camels, which drowned every attempt to be heard, while the elephants squeaked their delight in that peculiar treble which they emit when happy. There was one little fellow enjoying himself free from all restraints of curbs or pack-saddles, and inserting his proboscis into the sepoy’s baggage, whence he would extract a bag of flour, and move off, pursued by the owner; which was sure to produce shouts of mirth to add to the discord. This little representative of Ganesa was only eight years old, and not more than twelve hands high. He was a most agreeable pet, though the proofs he gave of his wisdom in trusting himself amidst the men when cooking their dinners, were sometimes disagreeable to them, but infinitely amusing to those who watched his actions. The rains having broken up unusually late, we found the boggy ground, on which we had to march, totally unable to bear the pressure of loaded cattle; even the ridges, which just showed their crests of quartz above the surface, were not safe. Our route was over a fine plain well wooded and watered, soil excellent, and studded with numerous large villages; yet all presenting uniformly the effects of warfare and rapine. The landscape, rendered the more interesting by our long incarceration in the valley, was abstractedly pleasing. On our left lay the mountains enclosing the capital, on one of whose elevated peaks are the ruins of Ratakot, overlooking all around; while to the east the eye might in vain seek for a boundary. We passed Deopur, once a township of some consequence, and forming part of the domain of the Bhanej,[4.25.5] Zalim Singh, the heir of Marwar, whose history, if it could be given here, would redeem the nobles of Rajputana from the charge of being of uncultivated intellect. In listening to [657] his biography, both time and place were unheeded; the narrator, my own venerable Guru,[4.25.6] had imbibed much of his varied knowledge from this accomplished chieftain, to whom arms and letters were alike familiar. He was the son of Raja Bijai Singh and a princess of Mewar: but domestic quarrels made it necessary to abandon the paternal for the maternal mansion, and a domain was assigned by the Rana, which put him on a footing with his own children. Without neglecting any of the martial amusements and exercises of the Rajput, he gave up all those hours, generally devoted to idleness, to the cultivation of letters. He was versed in philosophical theology, astronomy, and the history of his country; and in every branch of poesy, from the sacred canticles of Jayadeva to the couplets of the modern bard, he was an adept. He composed and improvised with facility, and his residence was the rendezvous for every bard of fame. That my respected tutor did not overrate his acquirements, I had the best proof in his own, for all which (and he rated them at an immeasurable distance compared with the subject of his eulogy) he held himself indebted to the heir of Marwar, who was at length slain in asserting his right to the throne in the desert.
=Rām Singh and the Rāja of Narsinghgarh. The Oswāl Mahājans.=—After a four hours’ march, picking our way amidst swamps and treacherous bogs, we reached the advanced tents at Pallana. Like Deopur, it presented the spectacle of a ruin, a corner of which held all its inhabitants; the remains of temples and private edifices showed what it had once been. Both towns formerly belonged to the fisc of the Rana, who, with his usual improvidence, on the death of his nephew included them in the grant to the temple of Kanhaiya. I found at my tents the minister’s right hand, Ram Singh Mehta; Manikchand, the Diwan or factotum of the chieftain of Bhindar; and the ex-Raja of Narsinghgarh, now an exile at Udaipur.[4.25.7] The first was a fine specimen of the non-militant class of these countries, and although he had seldom passed the boundaries of Mewar, no country could produce a better specimen of a courteous gentleman: his figure tall, deportment easy, features regular and handsome, complexion fair, with a fine slightly-curled beard and mustachios jet black. Ram Singh, without being conceited, is aware that nature has been indulgent to him, and without any foppery he pays great attention to externals. He is always elegantly attired, and varies with good taste the colours of his turban and ceinture, though his loose tunics are always white; the aroma of the _itr_ is the only mark of the dandy about him: and this forms no criterion [658], as our red coats attest, which receive a sprinkling at every visit. With his dagger and pendent tassel, and the _balaband_ or purple cordon (the Rana’s gift) round his turban, behold the servant “whom the king delighteth to honour.” As he has to support himself by paying court to the Rana’s sister, the queens, and other fair influentials behind the curtain, his personal _attraits_ are no slight auxiliaries. He is of the Jain faith, and of the tribe of Osi, which now reckons one hundred thousand families, all of Rajput origin, and descendants of the Agnikula stock. They proselytized in remote antiquity, and settling at the town of Osi in Marwar, retain this designation, or the still more common one of Oswal. It was from the Pramara and Solanki branches of the Agnikula race that these assumed the doctrines of Buddha or Jaina: not however from the ranks of the Brahmans, but, as I firmly believe, from that faith, whatever it was, which these Scythic or Takshak tribes brought from beyond the Indus. In like manner we found the Chauhan (also an Agnikula) regenerated by the Brahmans on Mount Abu; while the fourth tribe, the Parihara (ancient sovereigns of Kashmir), have left traces in the monuments of their capital, Mandor, that they espoused the then prevailing faith of Rajasthan, namely, that of Buddha.[4.25.8]
=Mānikchand.=—Manikchand, also of the Jain faith, but of a different tribe (the Sambhari), was in all the reverse of Ram Singh. He was tall, thin, rather bent, and of swarthy complexion, and his tongue and his beads were in perpetual motion. He had mixed in all the intrigues of the last quarter of a century, and, setting Zalim Singh of Kotah aside, had more influenced events than any individual now alive. He was the organ of the Saktawats, and the steward and counsellor of the head of this clan, the Bhindar chief; and being accordingly the irreconcilable foe of the Chondawats, had employed all the resources of his talents and his credit to effect their humiliation. To this end, he has leagued with Sindis, Pathans, and Mahrattas, and would not have scrupled to coalesce with his Satanic Majesty, could he thereby have advanced their revenge: in pursuance of which he has been detained in confinement as a hostage, put to torture from inability to furnish the funds he would unhesitatingly promise for aid, and all the while sure of death if he fell into the hands of his political antagonists. His talent and general information made him always a welcome guest: which was wormwood to the Chondawats, who laid claim to a monopoly of patriotism, and stigmatized the Saktawats as the destroyers [659] of Mewar, though in truth both were equally blind to her interests in their contests for supremacy. He was now beyond fifty, and appeared much older; but was cheerful, good-humoured, and conversant in all the varied occurrences of the times. He at length completely established himself in the Rana’s good graces, who gave his elder son a confidential employment. Had he lived, he would have been conspicuous, for he had all the talent of his father, with the personal adjuncts possessed by Ram Singh; but being sensitive and proud, he swallowed poison, in consequence it was said of the severity of an undeserved rebuke from his father, and died generally regretted. I may here relate the end of poor Manika. It was on the ground we had just quitted that he visited me for the last time, on my return from the journey just commenced. He had obtained the contract for the whole transit duties of the State, at the rate of 250,000 rupees per annum. Whether from the corruption of his numerous deputy collectors, his own cupidity, or negligence, he professed his inability to fulfil the contract by nearly a sixth of the amount, though from his talents and promises, a perfect establishment of this important department, which had been taken from others on his account, was expected. It was difficult to judge charitably of his assertions, without giving occasion to his enemies to put a wrong construction on the motives. He pitched his tent near me, and requested an interview. He looked very disconsolate, and remarked, that he had seven several times left his tent, and as often turned back, the bird of omen having each time passed him on the adverse side; but that at length he had determined to disregard it, as having forfeited confidence, he was indifferent to the future. He admitted the profligacy of his inferiors, whom he had not sufficiently superintended, and took his leave, promising by assiduity to redeem his engagements, though his past character for intrigue made his asseverations doubtful. Again failing to make good his promises, or, as was surmised, having applied the funds to his own estate, he took _saran_ with the Raja of Shahpura; where, mortified in all probability by the reflection of the exultation of his rivals over his disgrace, and having lost the confidence of his own chief when he obtained that of the Rana, he had recourse to the usual expedient of these countries when “perplexed in the extreme,”—took poison and died.
=The Rāja of Narsinghgarh.=—The last of the trio of visitors on this occasion, the Raja of Narsinghgarh, is now, as before stated, in exile. He is of the tribe of Umat, one of thirty-six divisions [660] of the Pramaras,[4.25.9] settled during fifteen generations in Central India, and giving the name of Umatwara to the petty sovereignty of which Narsinghgarh is the capital. Placed in the very heart of the predatory hordes, the Pindaris and Mahrattas occupied almost every village that owned their sway, and compelled him to the degradation of living under Holkar’s orange standard, which waved over the battlements of his abode. To one or other of the great Mahratta leaders, Sindhia and Holkar, all the petty princes were made tributary dependents, and Umatwara had early acknowledged Holkar, paying the annual sum of eighty thousand rupees: but this vassalage did not secure the Raja from the ravages of the other spoliators, nor from the rapacity of the myrmidons of his immediate lord paramount. In 1817, when these countries, for the first time in many centuries, tasted the blessings of peace, Umatwara was, like Mewar, a mass of ruins, its fertile lands being overgrown with the thorny _mimosa_ or the useful _kesula_. The Raja partook of the demoralization around him; he sought refuge in opium and arak from his miseries, and was totally unfitted to aid in the work of redemption when happier days shone upon them. His son Chain Singh contrived to escape these snares, and was found in every respect competent to cooperate in the work of renovation, and through the intervention of the British agent (Major Henley), an arrangement was effected by which the Raja retired on a stipend and the son carried on the duties of government in his name.[4.25.10]
It was unfortunate for these ancient races, that on the fortunate occasion presented in 1817-18, when both Sindhia and Holkar aimed at the overthrow of our power (the one treacherously cloaking his views, the other disclosing them in the field), our policy did not readily grasp it, to rescue all these States from ruin and dependence. Unfortunately, their peculiar history was little known, or it would have been easily perceived that they presented the exact materials we required between us and the entire occupation of the country. But there was then a strong notion afloat of a species of balance of power, and it was imagined that these demoralized and often humiliated Mahrattas were the fittest materials to throw into the scale—against I know not what, except ourselves: for assuredly the day of our reverses will be a jubilee to them, and will level every spear that they can bring against our existence. They would merit contempt if they acted [661] otherwise. Can they cease to remember that the orange flag which waved in triumph from the Sutlej to the Kistna has been replaced by the cross of St. George? But the snake which flutters in tortuous folds thereon, fitting crest for the wily Mahratta, is only scathed, and may yet call forth the lance of the red cross knight to give the coup de grace.[4.25.11] Let it then be remembered that, both as regards good policy and justice, we owe to these States—independence.
To what does our interference with Umatwara tend, but to realize the tribute of Holkar; to fix a millstone round their necks, which, notwithstanding the comparative happiness they enjoy, will keep them always repining, and to secure which will make our interference eternal. Had a due advantage been taken of the hostilities in 1817, it might have obviated these evils by sending the predatory sovereign of half a century’s duration to a more restricted sphere. It may be said that it is easy to devise plans years after the events which immediately called for them: these not only were mine at the time, but were suggested to the proper authorities; and I am still disposed to think my views correct.
After chatting some time with the two chiefs described, and presenting them with _itr_ and _pan_,[4.25.12] they took leave.
=Nāthdwāra.=—_October 14._—Marched at daybreak, and found the route almost impracticable for camels, from the swampy nature of the soil. The country is much broken with irregular low ridges of micaceous schist, in the shape of a chine or hog’s back, the crest of which has throughout all its length a vein of quartz piercing the slate, and resembling a back-bone; the direction of these veins is uniformly N.N.E., and the inclination about 75° to the east. Crossed the Nathdwara ridge, about four hundred feet in height, and, like the hills encircling the valley, composed of a brown granite intersected with protruding veins of quartz, incumbent on blue compact slate. The ascent was a mile and a half east of the town, and on the summit, which is table-land, there are two small lakes, whence water-courses conduct streams on each side of the road to supply the temple and the town. There are noble trees planted on either side of these rivulets, forming a delightful shade. As we passed through the town to our encampment on the [662] opposite side of the Banas River, the inhabitants crowded the streets, shouting their grateful acknowledgments to the power which had redeemed the sacred precincts of Kanhaiya from the scenes of turpitude amidst which they had grown up. They were all looking forward with much pleasure to the approaching festival of Annakuta.
_October 15._—Halted to allow the baggage to join, which, partly from the swamps and partly from the intractable temper of the cattle, we have not seen since we parted company at Merta. Received a visit from the Mukhya of the temple, accompanied by a pilgrim in the person of a rich banker of Surat. A splendid quilted cloak of gold brocade, a blue scarf with a deep border of gold, and an embroidered band for the head, were brought to me as the gift of the god through his high-priest, in testimony of my zeal. I was also honoured with a tray of the sacred food, which consisted of all the dried fruits, spices, and aromatics of the East. In the evening I had a portion of the afternoon repast, consisting of a preparation of milk; but the days of simplicity are gone, and the Apollo of Vraj has his curds adulterated with rose-water and amber. Perhaps, with the exception of Lodi, where is fabricated the far-famed Parmesan, whose pastures maintain forty thousand kine, there is no other place known which possesses more than the city of the Hindu Apollo, though but a tenth of that of Lodi. But from the four thousand cows, the expenditure of milk and butter for the votaries of Kanhaiya may be judged. I was entertained with the opinions of the old banker on the miraculous and oracular power of the god of Nathdwara. He had just been permitted to prostrate himself before the car which conveyed the deity from the Yamuna, and held forth on the impiety of the age, in withholding the transmission of the miraculous wheels from heaven, which in former days came once in six months. The most devout alone are permitted to worship the chariot of Kanhaiya. The garments which decorate his representative are changed several times a day, to imitate the different stages of his existence, from the youthful Bala to the conqueror of Kansa; or, as the Surat devotee said in broken English, “Oh, sir, he be much great god; he first of all; and he change from de balak, or child, to de fierce chief, with de bow and arrow a hees hands”; while the old Mukhya, whose office it is to perambulate the whole continent of India as one of the couriers of Kanhaiya, lifted up his eyes as he ejaculated, “Sri Krishna! Sri Krishna!” I gave him a paper [663] addressed to all officers of the British Government who might pass through the lands of the church, recommending the protection of the peacocks and pipal trees, and to forbear polluting the precincts of the god with the blood of animals. To avoid offending against their prejudices in this particular, I crossed the river, and killed our fowls within our own sanctuary, and afterwards concealed the murder by burying the feathers.
=Sagacity of Elephants. Usarwās.=—_October 16._—There is nothing so painful as sitting down inactive when the mind is bent upon an object. Our escort was yet labouring in the swamps, and as we could not be worse off than we were, we deemed it better to advance, and accordingly decamped in the afternoon, sending on a tent to Usarwas; but though the distance was only eight miles we were benighted, and had the comfort to find old Fateh, “the victorious,” floundering with his load in a bog, out of which he was picking his way in a desperate rage. It is generally the driver’s fault when such an accident occurs: for if there be but a foot’s breadth of sound footing, so sensible is the animal, that he is sure to avoid danger if left to his own discretion and the free use of his proboscis, with which he thumps the ground as he cautiously proceeds step by step, giving signals to his keeper of the safety or the reverse of advancing, as clearly as if he spoke. Fateh’s signals had been disregarded, and he was accordingly in a great passion at finding himself abused, and kept from his cakes and butter, of which he had always thirty pounds’ weight at sunset. The sagacity of the elephant is well known, and was in no instance better displayed than in the predicament above described. I have seen the huge monster in a position which to him must have been appalling; but, with an instinctive reliance on others, he awaited in tolerable patience the arrival of materials for his extrication, in the shape of fascines and logs of wood, which being thrown to him, he placed deliberately in front, and making a stout resistance with head, teeth, and foot, pressing the wood, he brought up one leg after the other in a most methodical and pioneer-like manner, till he delivered himself from his miry prison. Fateh did not require such aid; but, aware that the fault was not his, he soon indignantly shook the load off his back, and left them to get it out in any manner they chose.
=Wolves.=—Waited to aid in reloading, and it being already dusk, pushed on with my dog Belle, who, observing a couple of animals, darted off into the jungles, and led me after her as fast as the devious paths in such a savage scene would permit. But I [664] soon saw her scampering down the height, the game, in the shape of two huge wolves, close at her heels, and delighted to find rescue at hand. I have no doubt their retreat from my favourite greyhound was a mere _ruse de guerre_ to lead her beyond supporting distance, and they had nearly effected their object: they went off in a very sulky and leisurely manner. In my subaltern days, when with the subsidiary force in Gohad, I remember scouring the tremendous ravines near the Antri Pass to get a spear at a wolf, my companion (Lieut. now Lieut.-Col. T. D. Smith) and myself were soon surrounded by many scores of these hungry animals, who prowled about our camp all night, having carried off a child the night before. As we charged in one direction, they gave way; but kept upon our quarters without the least fear, and seemingly enjoyed the fun. I do not recollect whether it excited any other feeling than mirth. They showed no symptom of ferocity, or desire to make a meal of us; or a retreat from these ravines, with their superior topographical knowledge, would doubtless have been difficult.
=The Banās River. The Fairy Gift Legend.=—We passed the Banas River, just escaping from the rock-bound barriers, our path almost in contact with the water to the left. The stream was clear as crystal, and of great depth; the banks low and verdant, and fringed with wood. It was a lovely, lonely spot, and well deserved to be consecrated by legendary tale. In ancient times, ere these valleys were trod by the infidel Tatar, coco-nuts were here presented to the genius of the river, whose arm appeared above the waters to receive them; but ever since some unhallowed hand threw a stone in lieu of a coco-nut, the arm has been withdrawn.[4.25.13] Few in fact lived, either to supply or keep alive the traditions which lend a charm to a journey through these wild scenes, though full of bogs and wolves. We reached our journey’s end very late, and though no tents were up, we had the consolation to spy the cook in a snug corner with a leg of mutton before some blazing logs, round which he had placed the wall of a tent to check the force of the mountain air. We all congregated round the cook’s fire, and were infinitely happier in the prospect before us, and with the heavens for our canopy, than with all our accustomed conveniences and fare. Every one this day had taken his own road, and each had his adventure to relate. Our repast was delicious; nor did any favourable account reach us of tents or other luxuries to mar our enjoyments, till midnight, when the fly of the doctor’s tent arrived, of which we availed ourselves as a protection against the heavy dews of [665] the night; and though our bivouac was in a ploughed field, and we were surrounded by wild beasts in a silent waste, they proved no drawbacks to the enjoyment of repose.
Halted the 17th, to collect the dislocated baggage; for although such scenes, seasoned with romance, might do very well for _us_, our followers were ignorant of the name of Ann Radcliffe or other conjurers; and though admirers of tradition, like myself, preferred it after dinner. Usarwas is a valuable village, but now thinly inhabited. It was recently given by the Rana, with his accustomed want of reflection, to a Charan bard, literally for an old song. But even this folly was surpassed on his bestowing the township of Sesoda,[4.25.14] in the valley in advance, the place from which his tribe takes its appellation, on another of the fraternity, named Kishna, his master bard, who has the art to make his royal patron believe that opportunity alone is wanting to render his name as famed as that of the illustrious Sanga, or the immortal Partap. I received and returned the visit of an ascetic Sannyasi, whose hermitage was perched upon a cliff not far from our tents. Like most of his brethren, he was intelligent, and had a considerable store of local and foreign legends at command. He was dressed in a loose orange-coloured anga or tunic, with a turban of the same material, in which was twisted a necklace of the lotus-kernel;[4.25.15] he had another in his hand, with which he repeated the name of the deity at intervals. He expressed his own surprise and the sentiments of the inhabitants at the tranquillity they enjoyed, without any tumultuary cause being discoverable; and said that we must be something more than human. This superstitious feeling for a while was felt as well by the prince and the turbulent chief, as by the anchorite of Usarwas.
=Samecha.=—_October 18._—Marched at daybreak to Samecha, distance twelve miles. Again found our advanced elephant and breakfast-tent in a swamp: halted to extricate him from his difficulties. The road from Nathdwara is but a footpath, over or skirting a succession of low broken ridges, covered with prickly shrubs, as the Khair, the Karil, and Babul.[4.25.16] At the village of Gaon Gura, midway in the morning’s journey, we entered the alpine valley called the Shera Nala. The village of Gura is placed in the opening or break in the range through which the river flows, whose serpentine meanderings indicate the only road up this majestic valley. On the banks, or in its bed, which we frequently crossed, lay [666] the remainder of this day’s march. The valley varies in breadth, but is seldom less than half a mile, the hills rising boldly from their base; some with a fine and even surface covered with mango trees, others lifting their splintered pinnacles into the clouds. Nature has been lavish of her beauties to this romantic region. The _gular_ or wild fig, the _sitaphal_ or custard-apple, the peach or _aru badam_ (almond-peach),[4.25.17] are indigenous and abundant; the banks of the stream are shaded by the withy, while the large trees, the useful mango and picturesque tamarind, the sacred pipal and bar, are abundantly scattered with many others, throughout. Nor has nature in vain appealed to human industry and ingenuity to second her intents.
=Terrace Cultivation.=—From the margin of the stream on each side to the mountain’s base they have constructed a series of terraces rising over each other, whence by simple and ingenious methods they raise the waters to irrigate the rich crops of sugar-cane, cotton, and rice, which they cultivate upon them. Here we have a proof that ingenuity is the same, when prompted by necessity, in the Jura or the Aravalli. Wherever soil could be found, or time decomposed these primitive rocks, a barrier was raised. When discovered, should it be in a hollow below, or on the summit of a crag, it is alike greedily seized on: even there water is found, and if you leave the path below and ascend a hundred feet above the terraces, you will discover pools or reservoirs dammed in with massive trees, which serve to irrigate such insulated spots, or serve as nurseries to the young rice-plants. Not unfrequently, their labour is entirely destroyed, and the dykes swept away by the periodical inundations; for we observed the high-water mark in the trees considerably up the acclivity. The rice crop was abundant, and the _juar_ [millet] or maize was thriving, but scanty; the standard autumnal crop which preceded it, the _makai_, or ‘Indian corn,’ had been entirely devoured by the locust. The sugar-cane, by far the most valuable product of this curious region, was very fine but sparingly cultivated, from the dread of this insect, which for the last three years had ravaged the valley. There are two species of locusts, which come in clouds, darkening the air, from the desert: the _pharka_ and the _tiri_ are their names;[4.25.18] the first is the great enemy of our incipient prosperity. I observed a colony some time ago proceeding eastward with a rustling, rushing sound, like a distant torrent, or the wind in a forest at the fall of the leaf. We have thus to struggle against natural and artificial obstacles to the rising energies of the country; and dread of the _pharkas_ deters speculators [667] from renting this fertile tract, which almost entirely belongs to the fisc. Its natural fertility cannot be better demonstrated than in recording the success of an experiment, which produced five crops, from the same piece of ground, within thirteen months. It must, however, be understood that two of these are species of millet, which are cut in six weeks from the time of sowing. A patch of ground, for which the cultivator pays six rupees rent, will produce sugar-cane six hundred rupees in value: but the labour and expense of cultivation are heavy, and cupidity too often deprives the husbandman of the greater share of the fruits, ninety rupees having been taken in arbitrary taxes, besides his original rent.
The air of this elevated region gave vigour to the limbs, and appetite to the disordered stomach. There was an exhilarating _fraîcheur_, which made us quite frantic; the transition being from 96° of Fahrenheit to English summer heat. We breakfasted in a verdant spot under the shade of a noble fig-tree fanned by the cool breezes from the mountains.
=Samecha Town. Rājpūt Bhūmias.=—Samecha consists of three separate hamlets, each of about one hundred houses. It is situated at the base of a mountain distinctively termed Rana Pag, from a well-known path, by which the Ranas secured their retreat to the upland wilds when hard pushed by the Moguls. It also leads direct to the capital of the district, avoiding the circuitous route we were pursuing. Samecha is occupied by the Kumbhawats, descendants of Rana Kumbha, who came in a body with their elders at their head to visit me, bringing the famed _kakri_[4.25.19] of the valley (often three feet in length), curds, and a kid as gifts. I rose to receive these Rajaputras, the Bhumias or yeomen of the valley; and though undistinguishable in dress from the commonest cultivator, I did homage to their descent. Indeed, they did not require the auxiliaries of dress, their appearance being so striking as to draw forth the spontaneous exclamation from my friends, “what noble-looking fellows!” Their tall and robust figures, sharp aquiline features, and flowing beards, with a native dignity of demeanour (though excepting their chiefs, who wore turbans and scarfs, they were in their usual labouring dresses, immense loose breeches and turbans), compelled respect and admiration. Formerly they gave one hundred matchlocks for garrison duty at Kumbhalmer; but the Mahrattas have pillaged and impoverished them. These are the real allodial tenants of the land, performing personal local service, and paying an annual quit-rent. I conciliated their good opinion by [668] talking of the deeds of old days, the recollection of which a Rajput never outlives. The assembly under the fig-tree was truly picturesque, and would have furnished a good subject for Gerard Dow. Our baggage joined us at Samecha; but many of our camels were already worn out by labouring through swamps, for which they are by nature incapacitated.
_October 19._—Marched to Kelwara, the capital of this mountainous region, and the abode of the Ranas when driven from Chitor and the plains of the Banas; on which occasion these valleys received and maintained a great portion of the population of Mewar. There is not a rock or a stream that has not some legend attached to it, connected with these times. The valley presents the same features as already described. Passed a cleft in the mountain on the left, through which a stream rushes, called the “elephant’s pool”; a short cut may be made by the foot passenger to Kelwara, but it is too intricate for any unaccustomed to these wilds to venture. We could not ascertain the origin of the “elephant’s pool,” but it is most likely connected with ancient warfare. Passed the village of Murcha, held by a Rathor chieftain. On the margin of a small lake adjoining the village, a small and very neat sacrificial altar attracted my regard; and not satisfied with the reply that it was _sati ka makan_, ‘the place of faith,’ I sent to request the attendance of the village seer. It proved to be that of the ancestor of the occupant: a proof of devotion to her husband, who had fallen in the wars waged by Aurangzeb against this country; when, with a relic of her lord, she mounted the pyre. He is sculptured on horseback, with lance at rest, to denote that it is no churl to whom the record is devoted.
[Illustration:
CITADEL OF THE HILL FORTRESS OF KŪMBHALMER. _To face page 776._ ]
Near the “elephant’s pool,” and at the village of Kherli, two roads diverge: one, by the Bargula _nal_ or pass, conducts direct to Nathdwara; the other, leading to Rincher, and the celebrated shrine of the four-armed god,[4.25.20] famed as a place of pilgrimage. The range on our left terminating abruptly, we turned by Uladar to Kelwara, and encamped in a mango-grove, on a tableland half a mile north of the town. Here the valley enlarges, presenting a wild, picturesque, and rugged appearance. The barometer indicated about a thousand feet of elevation above the level of Udaipur, which is about two thousand above the sea: yet we were scarcely above the base of the alpine cliffs which towered around us on all sides. It was the point of divergence for the waters, which, from the numerous fountains in [669] these uplands, descended each declivity, to refresh the arid plains of Marwar to the west, and to swell the lakes of Mewar to the east. Previous to the damming of the stream which forms that little ocean, the Kankroli lake, it is asserted that the supply to the west was very scanty, nearly all flowing eastward, or through the valley; but since the formation of the lake, and consequent saturation of the intermediate region, the streams are ever flowing to the west. The spot where I encamped was at least five hundred feet lower than Aret pol, the first of the fortified barriers leading to Kumbhalmer, whose citadel rose more than seven hundred feet above the _terre-pleine_ of its outworks beneath.
=Kūmbhalmer Fort. Mahārāja Daulat Singh.=—The Maharaja Daulat Singh, a near relative of the Rana, and governor of Kumbhalmer, attended by a numerous suite, the crimson standard, trumpets, kettledrums, seneschal, and bard, advanced several miles to meet and conduct me to the castle. According to etiquette, we both dismounted and embraced, and afterwards rode together conversing on the affairs of the province, and the generally altered condition of the country. Daulat Singh, being of the immediate kin of his sovereign, is one of the Babas or infants of Mewar, enumerated in the tribe called Ranawat, with the title of Maharaja. Setting aside the family of Sheodan Singh, he is the next in succession to the reigning family. He is one of the few over whom the general demoralization has had no power, and remains a simple-minded straightforward honest man; blunt, unassuming, and courteous. His rank and character particularly qualify him for the post he holds on this western frontier, which is the key to Marwar. It was in February 1818 that I obtained possession of this place (Kumbhalmer), by negotiating the arrears of the garrison. Gold is the cheapest, surest, and most expeditious of all generals in the East, amongst such mercenaries as we had to deal with, who change masters with the same facility as they would their turban. In twenty-four hours we were put in possession of the fort, and as we had not above one-third of the stipulated sum in ready cash, they without hesitation took a bill of exchange, written on the drum-head, on the mercantile town of Pali in Marwar: in such estimation is British faith held, even by the most lawless tribes of India! Next morning we saw them winding down the western declivity, while we quietly took our breakfast in an old ruined temple. During this agreeable employment, we were joined by Major Macleod, of the artillery, sent by General Donkin to report on the facilities of reducing the place by siege, and [670] his opinion being, that a gun could not be placed in position in less than six weeks, the grilling spared the European force in such a region was well worth the £4000 of arrears. My own escort and party remained in possession for a week, until the Rana sent his garrison. During these eight days our time was amply occupied in sketching and deciphering the monumental records of this singularly diversified spot. It would be vain to attempt describing the intricacies of approach to this far-famed abode, whose exterior is delineated by the pencil. A massive wall, with numerous towers and pierced battlements, having a strong resemblance to the Etruscan, encloses a space of some miles extent below, while the pinnacle or _sikhara_ rises, like the crown of the Hindu Cybele, tier above tier of battlements, to the summit, which is crowned with the Badal Mahall, or ‘cloud-palace’ of the Ranas. Thence the eye ranges over the sandy deserts and the chaotic mass of mountains, which are on all sides covered with the cactus, which luxuriates amidst the rocks of the Aravalli. Besides the Aret[4.25.21] pol, or barrier thrown across the first narrow ascent, about one mile from Kelwara, there is a second called the Halla[4.25.22] pol, intermediate to the Hanuman[4.25.23] pol, the exterior gate of the fortress, between which and the summit there are three more, viz. the gate of victory, the sanguinary gate, and that of Rama, besides the last, or Chaugan[4.25.24] pol. The barometer stood, at half-past seven A.M., 26° 65´; thermometer 58° Fahr. at the Aret pol: and on the summit at nine, while the thermometer rose to 75°, the barometer had only descended 15´, and stood at 26° 50´,[4.25.25] though we had ascended full six hundred feet.
=A Jain Temple.=—Admitting the last range as our guide, the peak of Kumbhalmer will be 3353[4.25.26] feet above the level of the ocean. Hence I laid down the positions of many towns far in the desert. Here were subjects to occupy the pencil at least for a month; but we had only time for one of the most interesting views, the Jain temple before the reader, and a sketch of the fortress itself, both finished on the spot. The design of this temple is truly classic. It consists only of the sanctuary, which has a vaulted dome and colonnaded portico all round. The architecture is undoubtedly Jain, which is as distinct in character from the Brahmanical as their religion. There is a chasteness and simplicity in this specimen of monotheistic worship, affording a wide contrast to the elaborately sculptured shrines of the Saivas, and [671] other polytheists of India. The extreme want of decoration best attests its antiquity, entitling us to attribute it to that period when Samprati Raja, of the family of Chandragupta, was paramount sovereign over all these regions (two hundred years before Christ);[4.25.27] to whom tradition ascribes the most ancient monuments of this faith, yet existing in Rajasthan and Saurashtra. The proportions and forms of the columns are especially distinct from the other temples, being slight and tapering instead of massive, the general characteristic of Hindu architecture; while the projecting cornices, which would absolutely deform shafts less slight, are peculiarly indicative of the Takshak architect.[4.25.28] Samprati was the fourth prince in descent from Chandragupta, of the Jain faith, and the ally of Seleucus, the Grecian sovereign of Bactriana. The fragments of Megasthenes, ambassador from Seleucus, record that this alliance was most intimate; that the daughter of the Rajput king was married to Seleucus, who, in return for elephants and other gifts, sent a body of Greek soldiers to serve Chandragupta. It is curious to contemplate the possibility, nay the probability, that the Jain temple now before the reader may have been designed by Grecian artists, or that the taste of the artists among the Rajputs may have been modelled after the Grecian. This was our temple of Theseus in Mewar. A massive monolithic emblem of black marble of the Hindu Pitrideva had been improperly introduced into the shrine of the worshippers of the “spirit alone.” Being erected on the rock, and chiselled from the syenite on which it stands, it may bid defiance to time. There was another sacred structure in its vicinity, likewise Jain, but of a distinct character; indeed, offering a perfect contrast to that described. It was three stories in height; each tier was decorated with numerous massive low columns, resting on a sculptured panelled parapet, and sustaining the roof of each story, which, being very low, admitted but a broken light to break the pervading gloom. I should imagine that the sacred architects of the East had studied effect equally with the preservers of learning and the arts in the dark period of Europe, when those monuments, which must ever be her pride, arose on the ruins of paganism. How far the Saxon or Scandinavian pagan contributed to the general design of such structures may be doubted; but that their decorations, especially the grotesque, have a powerful resemblance to the most ancient Hindu-Scythic, there is no question, as I shall hereafter more particularly point out [672].
[Illustration:
JAIN TEMPLE. In the Fortress of Kūmbhalmer. _To face page 780._ ]
Who, that has a spark of imagination, but has felt the indescribable emotion which the gloom and silence of a Gothic cathedral excites? The very extent provokes a comparison humiliating to the pigmy spectator, and this is immeasurably increased when the site is the mountain pinnacle, where man and his works fade into nothing in contemplating the magnificent expanse of nature. The Hindu priest did not raise the temple for heterogeneous multitudes: he calculated that the mind would be more highly excited when left to its solitary devotions, amidst the silence of these cloistered columns, undisturbed save by the monotony of the passing bell, while the surrounding gloom is broken only by the flare of the censer as the incense mounts above the altar.
=Temple of Māma Devi.=—It would present no distinct picture to the eye were I to describe each individual edifice within the scope of vision, either upwards towards the citadel, or below. Looking down from the Jain temple towards the pass, till the contracting gorge is lost in distance, the gradually diminishing space is filled with masses of ruin. I will only notice two of the most interesting. The first is dedicated to Mama Devi, ‘the mother of the gods,’ whose shrine is on the brow of the mountain overlooking the pass. The goddess is placed in the midst of her numerous family, including the greater and lesser divinities. They are all of the purest marble, each about three feet in height, and tolerably executed, though evidently since the decline of the art, of which very few good specimens exist executed within the last seven centuries. The temple is very simple and primitive, consisting but of a long hall, around which the gods are ranged, without either niche or altar.
The most interesting portion of this temple is its court, formed by a substantial wall enclosing a tolerable area. The interior of this wall had been entirely covered with immense tables of black marble, on which was inscribed the history of their gods, and, what was of infinitely greater importance, that of the mortal princes who had erected the tablets in their honour. But what a sight for the antiquary! Not one of the many tables was entire; the fragments were strewed about, or placed in position to receive the flesh-pots of the sons of Ishmael, the mercenary Rohilla Afghan [673].[4.25.29]
=Memorial of Prithirāj and Tāra Bāi.=—On quitting the temple of Mama Devi, my attention was attracted by a simple monumental shrine on the opposite side of the valley, and almost in the gorge of the pass. It was most happily situated, being quite isolated, overlooking the road leading to Marwar, and consisted of a simple dome of very moderate dimensions, supported by columns, without any intervening object to obstruct the view of the little monumental altar arising out of the centre of the platform. It was the Sybilline temple of Tivoli in miniature. To it, over rock and ruin, I descended. Here repose the ashes of the Troubadour of Mewar, the gallant Prithiraj and his heroine wife, Tara Bai, whose lives and exploits fill many a page of the legendary romances of Mewar.
[Illustration:
RUINS IN KŪMBHALMER. _To face page 782._ ]
This fair ‘star’ (_tara_) was the daughter of Rao Surthan, the chieftain of Badnor. He was of the Solanki tribe, the lineal descendant of the famed Balhara kings of Anhilwara. Thence expelled by the arms of Ala in the thirteenth century, they migrated to Central India, and obtained possession of Tonk-Toda and its lands on the Banas, which from remote times had been occupied (perhaps founded) by the Taks, and hence bore the name of Taksilanagar, familiarly Takatpur and Toda.[4.25.30] Surthan had been deprived of Toda by Lila the Afghan, and now occupied Badnor at the foot of the Aravalli, within the bounds of Mewar. Stimulated by the reverses of her family, and by the incentives of its ancient glory, Tara Bai, scorning the habiliments and occupations of her sex, learned to guide the war-horse, and throw with unerring aim the arrow from his back, even while at speed. Armed with the bow and quiver, and mounted on a fiery Kathiawar, she joined the cavalcade in their unsuccessful attempts to wrest Toda from the Afghan. Jaimall, the third son of Rana Raemall, in person made proposals for her hand. “Redeem Toda,” said the star of Badnor, “and my hand is thine.” He assented to the terms: but evincing a rude determination to be possessed of the prize ere he had earned it, he was slain by the indignant father. Prithiraj, the brother of the deceased, was then in exile in Marwar; he had just signalized his valour, and ensured his father’s forgiveness, the redemption of Godwar,[4.25.31] and the [674] catastrophe at Badnor determined him to accept the gage thrown down to Jaimall. Fame and the bard had carried the renown of Prithiraj far beyond the bounds of Mewar; the name alone was attractive to the fair, and when thereto he who bore it added all the chivalrous ardour of his prototype, the Chauhan, Tara Bai, with the sanction of her father, consented to be his, on the simple asseveration that “he would restore to them Toda, or he was no true Rajput.” The anniversary of the martyrdom of the sons of Ali was the season chosen for the exploit.[4.25.32] Prithiraj formed a select band of five hundred cavaliers, and accompanied by his bride, the fair Tara, who insisted on partaking his glory and his danger, he reached Toda at the moment the _ta’aziya_ or bier containing the martyr-brothers was placed in the centre of the _chauk_ or ‘square.’ The prince, Tara Bai, and the faithful Sengar chief, the inseparable companion of Prithiraj, left their cavalcade and joined the procession as it passed under the balcony of the palace in which the Afghan was putting on his dress preparatory to descending. Just as he had asked who were the strange horsemen that had joined the throng, the lance of Prithiraj and an arrow from the bow of his Amazonian bride stretched him on the floor. Before the crowd recovered from the panic, the three had reached the gate of the town, where their exit was obstructed by an elephant. Tara Bai with her scimitar divided his trunk, and the animal flying, they joined their cavalcade, which was close at hand.
The Afghans were encountered, and could not stand the attack. Those who did not fly were cut to pieces; and the gallant Prithiraj inducted the father of his bride into his inheritance. A brother of the Afghans, in his attempt to recover it, lost his life. The Nawab Mallu Khan then holding Ajmer determined to oppose the Sesodia prince in person; who, resolved upon being the assailant, advanced to Ajmer, encountered his foe in the camp at daybreak, and after great slaughter entered Garh Bitli, the citadel, with the fugitives. “By these acts,” says the chronicle, “his fame increased in Rajwara: one thousand Rajputs, animated by the same love of glory and devotion, gathered round the _nakkaras_ of Prithiraj. Their swords shone in the heavens, and were dreaded on the earth; but they aided the defenceless.”
Another story is recorded and confirmed by Muhammadan writers as to the result, though they are ignorant of the impulse which prompted the act. Prithiraj on some [675] occasion found the Rana conversing familiarly with an ahadi[4.25.33] of the Malwa king, and feeling offended at the condescension, expressed himself with warmth. The Rana ironically replied: “You are a mighty seizer of kings; but for me, I desire to retain my land.” Prithiraj abruptly retired, collected his band, made for Nimach, where he soon gathered five thousand horse, and reaching Dipalpur, plundered it, and slew the governor. The king on hearing of the irruption left Mandu at the head of what troops he could collect; but the Rajput prince, in lieu of retreating, rapidly advanced and attacked the camp while refreshing after the march. Singling out the royal tent, occupied by eunuchs and females, the king was made captive, and placed on an express camel beside the prince, who warned the pursuers to follow peaceably, or he would put his majesty to death; adding that he intended him no harm, but that after having made him “touch his father’s feet,” he should restore him to liberty. Having carried him direct to Chitor and to his father’s presence, he turned to him saying, “Send for your friend the ahadi, and ask him who this is?” The Malwa king was detained a month within the walls of Chitor, and having paid his ransom in horses, was set at liberty with every demonstration of honour.[4.25.34] Prithiraj returned to Kumbhalmer, his residence, and passed his life in exploits like these from the age of fourteen to twenty-three, the admiration of the country and the theme of the bard.
It could not be expected that long life would be the lot of one who thus courted distinction, though it was closed neither by shot nor sabre, but by poison, when on the eve of prosecuting his unnatural feud against his brother Sanga, the place of whose retreat was made known by his marriage with the daughter of the chieftain of Srinagar, who had dared to give him protection in defiance of his threats.
At the same time he received a letter from his sister, written in great grief, complaining of the barbarous treatment of her lord, the Sirohi prince, from whose tyranny she begged to be delivered and to be restored to the paternal roof; since whenever he had indulged too freely in the ‘essence of the flower,’ or in opium, he used to place her under the bedstead, and leave her to sleep on the floor. Prithiraj instantly departed, reached Sirohi at midnight, scaled the palace, and interrupted the repose of Pabhu Rao by placing his poniard at his throat. His wife, notwithstanding his cruelty, complied with his humiliating appeal for mercy, and begged his life, which was granted on condition of his standing as a suppliant with his wife’s [676] shoes on his head, and touching her feet, the lowest mark of degradation. He obeyed, was forgiven, and embraced by Prithiraj, who became his guest during five days. Pabhu Rao was celebrated for a confection, of which he presented some to his brother at parting. He partook of it as he came in sight of Kumbhalmer; but on reaching the shrine of Mama Devi was unable to proceed. Here he sent a message to the fair Tara to come and bid him farewell; but so subtle was the poison, that death had overtaken him ere she descended from the citadel. Her resolution was soon formed; the pyre was erected, and with the mortal remains of the chivalrous Prithiraj in her embrace, she sought “the regions of the sun.” Such the end of the Sesodia prince, and the star of Badnor. From such instances we must form our opinion of the manners of these people. But for the poisoned confection of the chief of Sirohi, Prithiraj would have had the glory of opposing himself to Babur, instead of his heroic brother and successor, Sanga.[4.25.35] Whether, from his superior ardour of temperament, and the love of military glory which attracted similarly constituted minds to his fortunes, he would have been more successful than his brother, it is futile to conjecture.
=The Frontier of Mārwār.=—_October 20._—Halted till noon, that the men might dress their dinners, and prepare for the descent into “the region of death,” or Marwar. The pass by which we had to gain it was represented as terrific; but as both horse and elephant, with the aid of the hatchet, will pick their way wherever man can go, we determined to persevere. Struck the camp at noon, when the baggage filed off, halting ourselves till three; the escort and advanced tents, and part of the cuisine being ordered to clear the pass, while we designed to spend the night midway, in a spot forming the natural boundary of Mewar and Marwar, reported to be sufficiently capacious. Rumour had not magnified the difficulties of the descent, which we found strewed with our baggage, arresting all progress for a full hour. For nearly a mile there was but just breadth sufficient to admit the passage of a loaded elephant, the descent being at an angle of 55° with the horizon, and streams on either side rushing with a deafening roar over their rugged beds. As we gained a firmer footing at the base of this first descent, we found that the gallant Manika, the gift of my friend the Bundi prince, had missed his footing and rolled down the steep, breaking the cantle of the saddle; a little farther appeared the cook, hanging in dismay over the scattered implements of his art, his camel remonstrating against the [677] replacing of his _kajavas_ or panniers. For another mile it became more gentle, when we passed under a tower of Kumbhalmer, erected on a scarped projection of the rock, full five hundred feet above us. The scenery was magnificent; the mountains rising on each side in every variety of form, and their summits, as they caught a ray of the departing sun, reflecting on our sombre path a momentary gleam from the masses of rose-coloured quartz which crested them. Noble forest trees covered every face of the hills and the bottom of the glen, through which, along the margin of the serpentine torrent which we repeatedly crossed, lay our path. Notwithstanding all our mishaps, partly from the novelty and grandeur of the scene, and partly from the invigorating coolness of the air, our mirth became wild and clamorous: a week before I was oppressed with a thousand ills; and now I trudged the rugged path, leaping the masses of granite which had rolled into the torrent.
There was one spot where the waters formed a pool or _dah_. Little Carey determined to trust to his pony to carry him across, but deviating to the left, just as I was leaping from a projecting ledge, to my horror, horse and rider disappeared. The shock was momentary, and a good ducking the only result, which in the end was the luckiest thing that could have befallen him. On reaching the Hathidarra, or ‘barrier of the elephant’ (a very appropriate designation for a mass of rock serving as a rampart to shut up the pass), where we had intended to remain the night, we found no spot capacious enough even for a single tent. Orders accordingly passed to the rear for the baggage to collect there, and wait the return of day to continue the march. The shades of night were fast descending, and we proceeded almost in utter darkness towards the banks of the stream, the roar of whose waters was our guide, and not a little perplexed by the tumultuous rush which issued from every glen, to join that we were seeking. Towards the termination of the descent the path became wider, and the voice of the waters of a deeper and hoarser tone, as they glided to gain the plains of Marwar. The vault of heaven, in which there was not a cloud, appeared as an arch to the perpendicular cliffs surrounding us on all sides, and the stars beamed with peculiar brilliancy from the confined space through which we viewed them. As we advanced in perfect silence, fancy busily at work on what might befall our straggling retinue from the ferocious tiger or plundering mountaineer, a gleam of light suddenly flashed upon us on emerging from the brushwood, and disclosed a party of dismounted cavaliers seated round their night-fires under some magnificent fig-trees [678].[4.5.36]
=Meeting with the Mers.=—Halted, and called a council of war to determine our course: we had gained the spot our guides had assigned as the only fitting one for bivouac before we reached the plains beyond the mountains; it afforded shade from the dews, and plenty of water. The _munitions de bouche_ having gone on was a good argument that we should follow; but darkness and five miles more of intricate forest, through a path from which the slightest deviation, right or left, might lead us into the jaws of a tiger, or the toils of the equally savage Mer, decided us to halt. We now took another look at the group above-mentioned. Though the excitement of the morning was pretty well chilled by cold and hunger (poor sharpeners of the imagination), it was impossible to contemplate the scene before us without a feeling of the highest interest. From twenty-five to thirty tall figures, armed at all points, were sitting or reposing in groups round their watch-fires, conversing and passing the pipe from hand to hand, while their long black locks, and motley-fashioned turbans, told that they belonged to Marudesa. A rude altar, raised in honour of some “gentle blood” shed by the murky mountaineer, served as a place of rest for the chief of the party, distinguished by the gold band in his turban, and his deer-skin doublet. I gave the usual salutation of “Rama, Rama,” to the chief and his party, and inquired after the health of their chieftain of Ghanerao, to whose courtesy I found I owed this mark of attention. This was the boundary between the two States of Marwar and Mewar, since the district of Godwar was lost by the latter about fifty years ago. The spot has been the scene of many a conflict, and a closer approach disclosed several other altars raised in honour of the slain; each represented a cavalier mounted on his war-steed, with his lance poised, denoting that in such attitude he fell in defending the pass, or redeeming the cattle from the plundering mountain Mer. A square tablet placed on each contained the date on which he gained “the mansions of the sun.” Midnight being past, and bringing no hope of our appetites growing by what they might feed upon, Dr. Duncan and Captain Waugh took the _jhul_, or broadcloth-housing, from the elephant, and rolling themselves in it, followed the example of the chieftain and reposed upon the ashes of the brave, on an altar adjoining the one he occupied. I soon left them in happy forgetfulness of tigers, Meras, hunger, and all the fatigues of the day, and joined the group to listen to the tale with which they enlivened the midnight hour. This I can repeat, but it would have required the pencil of a master to paint the scene. It was a subject for Salvator Rosa; though I should [679] have been perfectly satisfied with one of Captain Waugh’s delineations, had he been disposed at that moment to exert the pictorial art. Several of my friends had encountered the mountaineer on this very spot; and these humble cenotaphs, covering the ashes of their kin, recalled events not likely to be repeated in these halcyon days, when the names of Bhil and Mer cease to be the synonyms of plunderer. As there may be no place more appropriate for a sketch of the mountaineers, the reader may transport himself to the glen of Kumbhalmer, and listen to the history of one of the aboriginal tribes of Rajasthan [680].
[Illustration: KOLI AND BHIL.]
[Illustration: CHĀRAN OR BARD.]
(The Foresters of Rājputana.) _To face page 788._
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Footnote 4.25.1:
The amphitheatre, or circle. [The valley of Udaipur.]
Footnote 4.25.2:
_Sabun_, in the lingua franca of India, signifies ‘soap.’ [The soap-nut tree (_sapindus mukorossi_), the fruit of which is used for washing clothes and the hair (Watt, _Comm. Prod._ 979).]
Footnote 4.25.3:
[Raised by James Skinner (1778-1841), known as “The Yellow Boys,” in 1823; 1st Irregular Cavalry (Skinner’s Horse), 1840; 1st Bengal Cavalry, 1861 (F. G. Cardew, _Sketch of the Services of the Bengal Native Army to the Year 1895_).]
Footnote 4.25.4:
[_Calligonum polygonoides_, a shrub on which camels live for the greater part of the year.]
Footnote 4.25.5:
_Bhanej_, or ‘nephew,’ a title of courtesy enjoyed by every chieftain who marries a daughter or immediate kinswoman of the Rana’s house. [When Bhīm Singh succeeded in 1793, his first act was to drive his uncle, Zālim Singh, the son of a Mewār princess, from Jodhpur. He took refuge in Udaipur, and passed the rest of his days in literary pursuits. He was a man of charm and ability, a gallant soldier, no mean poet. He died in the prime of life in British Merwāra in 1799 (Erskine iii. A. 70).]
Footnote 4.25.6:
My guide or instructor, Yati Gyanchandra, a priest of the Jain sect, who had been with me ten years. To him I owe much, for he entered into all my antiquarian pursuits with zeal.
Footnote 4.25.7:
[A chiefship in Central India under the Bhopāl Agency. In 1819 Subhāg Singh becoming imbecile was replaced by his son Chain Singh, after whose death in 1824 he was restored (_IGI_, xviii. 353).]
Footnote 4.25.8:
[As usual, Jainism and Buddhism are confounded.]
Footnote 4.25.9:
One of the four Agnikulas. [The Umats were not a distinguished tribe until Achal Singh, Dīwān of Narsinghgarh, married his son to a near relation of the Mahārāna of Udaipur, and since this alliance many of the principal Mālwa families eat with the Rājas of Umatwāra (Malcolm, _Memoir of Central India_, 2nd ed. ii. 130 f.). For a full and slightly different account see _IGI_, xviii. 382 ff.]
Footnote 4.25.10:
[Chain Singh quarrelled with the Political Agent, attacked the British forces at Sehore, and was killed in the battle in 1824 (_IGI_, xviii. 383).]
Footnote 4.25.11:
Sindhia’s flag is a snake _argent_ on an _orange_ field.
Footnote 4.25.12:
_Pān_, ‘the leaf’; _parna_ and _pattra_, the Sanskrit for ‘a leaf’; and hence _panna_, ‘a leaf or sheet of paper’; and _patra_, ‘a plate of metal or sacrificial cup,’ because these vessels were first made of leaves. I was amused with the coincidence between the Sanskrit and Tuscan _panna_. That lovely subject by Raphael, the “Madonna impannata,” in the Pitti Palace at Florence, is so called from the subdued light admitted through the window, the panes of which are of paper. [The words have no connexion.]
Footnote 4.25.13:
[A variant of the well-known Fairy Gift legend (Crooke, _Popular Religion and Folklore of N. India_, 2nd ed. i. 287 ff.).]
Footnote 4.25.14:
[The home of the Rāna branch of Guhilots, who take the name of Sesodia from it, while Chitor was the capital of the Rāwal branch of the ruling house (Erskine ii. A. 15).]
Footnote 4.25.15:
[Lotus nuts are used for necklaces, but Sannyāsis usually wear those of the _rudrāksha_ (_Elaeocarpus ganitrus_) (Watt, _Econ. Dict._ v. 345; _Comm. Prod._ 511).]
Footnote 4.25.16:
[_Acacia catechu_, _Capparis aphylla_, _Acacia arabica_.]
Footnote 4.25.17:
[_Ficus glomerata_, _Annona squamosa_, _Prunus persica_.]
Footnote 4.25.18:
[Our knowledge of Indian locusts is still imperfect, the best-known varieties being the Bombay and the North-West (Watt, _Econ. Dict._ vi.
## Part i. 154 f.; _Comm. Prod._ 686).]
Footnote 4.25.19:
[A kind of cucumber, _Cucumis utilissimus_ (Watt, _Comm. Prod._ 439).]
Footnote 4.25.20:
[Chaturbhuja Vishnu.]
Footnote 4.25.21:
[‘The Barrier.’]
Footnote 4.25.22:
[‘The Onset.’]
Footnote 4.25.23:
[‘That of the monkey god,’ a common guardian of forts.]
Footnote 4.25.24:
[Chaugān, ‘the Parade Ground.’]
Footnote 4.25.25:
At four o’clock P.M., same position, thermometer 81°; barometer, 26° 85´.
Footnote 4.25.26:
[3658 feet.]
Footnote 4.25.27:
[Samprati was grandson of Asoka, and he is credited with the erection of many Jain buildings (Smith, _EHI_, 192 f.; _BG_, i. Part i. 15). From the picture of the temple given by the author, and from an inscription of the reign of Rāna Sangrām Singh (A.D. 1508-27), it could not have been more than three centuries old when he saw it (_IA_, ii. 205). There are two temples, one consisting of a square sanctuary with a vaulted dome, and surrounded by a colonnade of elegant pillars: the second is of peculiar design, having three stories, each tier being decorated with massive low columns (Erskine ii. A. 116).]
Footnote 4.25.28:
See note, p. 37, above.
Footnote 4.25.29:
These people assert their Coptic origin: being driven from Egypt by one of the Pharaohs, they wandered eastwards till they arrived under that peak of the mountains west of the Indus called Sulaiman-i-koh, or ‘Hill of Solomon,’ where they halted. Others draw their descent from the lost tribes. They are a very marked race, and as unsettled as their forefathers, serving everywhere. They are fine gallant men, and, when managed by such officers as Skinner, make excellent and orderly soldiers; but they evince great contempt for the eaters of swine, who are their abomination. [The Rohillas, ‘Highlanders,’ are a Pathān tribe which occupied Rohilkhand after the death of Aurangzeb, A.D. 1707 (Crooke, _Tribes and Castes N.W.P. and Oudh_, iv. 165 f.).]
Footnote 4.25.30:
From the ruins of its temples, remnants of Takshak architecture, the amateur might speedily fill a portfolio. This tract abounds with romantic scenery: Rajmahall on the Banas, Gokaran, and many others. Herbert calls Chitor the abode of Taxiles, the ally of Alexander. The Taks were all of the race of Puru, so that Porus is a generic, not a proper name. This Taksilanagar has been a large city. We owe thanks to the Emperor Babur, who has given us the position of the city of Taxiles, where Alexander left it, west of the Indus. [The Tāk tribe had no connexion with Chitor.]
Footnote 4.25.31:
See p. 344 [Vol. I.].
Footnote 4.25.32:
[The Muharram festival.]
Footnote 4.25.33:
[Ahadi, ‘single, alone,’ like our warrant-officer, a gentleman trooper in the Mughal service, so called because they offered their services singly, and did not attach themselves to any chief (_Āīn_, i. 20, note; Irvine, _Army of the Indian Moghuls_, 43).]
Footnote 4.25.34:
[This is the Rājput story which lacks confirmation from Muhammadan sources. The captive may have been Ghiyāsū-d-dīn of Mālwa, or Muzaffar Shāh of Gujarāt; but it is probably fiction invented by the Mewār bards (Erskine ii. A. 18).]
Footnote 4.25.35:
See Annals, p. 353.
Footnote 4.5.36:
The bar or banyan tree, _Ficus Indica_.
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