CHAPTER 27

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=Maladministration of Rāja Mān Singh.=—Such were the schemes concocting when I visited this court, which were revealed by succeeding events. At this time the Raja appeared in a state of mental depression, involved in difficulties, cautious, fearful of a false step, and surrounded by the satellites of the miscreant Akhai Chand, who, if he could no longer incarcerate his person, endeavoured to seal up the mind of his prince from all communication with those who might stimulate him to exertion. But all his arts only served to entangle him in the web then weaving for his life. The Raja first made him the means of destroying the most powerful of his chieftains, Surthan being the primary sacrifice to his sanguinary proscription; many others followed, until the best of the feudal chieftains sought refuge from his fury in exile, and found the saran (sanctuary) they sought in the surrounding States, the majority in Mewar. The day of vengeance at length arrived, and the minister and his

## partisans were transferred from their position at the helm of the State

to a dungeon. Deceived with hopes of life, and compelled by the application of some summary methods of torture, Akhai Chand gave in a schedule of forty lakhs of property, of which the Raja realized a large portion, and then dismissed him to the other world. Nagoji, the kiladar,[4.27.12] and Mulji Dandal, both favourites and advisers of the Raja’s [720] late son, returned on the strength of a general amnesty, and forgot they had been traitors. The wealth which prodigality had heaped upon them, consisting of many of the crown jewels, being recovered, their worldly accounts were settled by a cup of poison, and their bodies thrown over the battlements. Success, and the taste of blood, whetted rather than appeased the appetite of Raja Man. He was well seconded by the new minister, Fateh Raj, the deadly opponent of Akhai Chand, and all the clan of Champawats, whom he deemed the authors of the murder of his brother Induraj, slain at the same time with Deonath. Each day announced a numerous list of victims, either devoted to death, or imprisoned and stripped of their wealth. The enormous sum of a crore of rupees has been stated as the amount of the confiscations.

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

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

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

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

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

Mewar. Marwar. Delhi.

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

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

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

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

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

No funeral urn To mark their obsequies:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Illustration:

CHĀMUNDA. KANKĀLI. Rock Sculptures at Mandor. _To face page 842._ ]

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Illustration:

MALLINĀTH. NĀTHJI. Rock Sculptures at Mandor. _To face page 844._ ]

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

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

[Illustration:

RĀMDEO RĀTHOR. PĀBUJI, MOUNTED ON KESAR KĀLI. Rock Sculptures at Mandor. _To face page 846._ ]

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

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

[Illustration:

GŪGA THE CHAUHĀN. HARBUJI SĀNKHLA. Rock Sculptures at Mandor. _To face page 848._ ]

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

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

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Footnote 4.27.1:

[Of Jagat Singh of Jaipur and Amīr Khān.]

Footnote 4.27.2:

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

Footnote 4.27.3:

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

Footnote 4.27.4:

_Amrit ra piyala._

Footnote 4.27.5:

See p. 820.

Footnote 4.27.6:

[‘The self-existent.’]

Footnote 4.27.7:

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

Footnote 4.27.8:

[_Decline and Fall_, ed. W. Smith, ii. 262.]

Footnote 4.27.9:

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

Footnote 4.27.10:

[About 80 miles N. of Jaipur city.]

Footnote 4.27.11:

Vol. I. page 535.

Footnote 4.27.12:

Commandant of the fortress [_qil’adār_].

Footnote 4.27.13:

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

Footnote 4.27.14:

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

Footnote 4.27.15:

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

Footnote 4.27.16:

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

Footnote 4.27.17:

[Funeral rite.]

Footnote 4.27.18:

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

Footnote 4.27.19:

[_Ficus glomerata._]

Footnote 4.27.20:

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

Footnote 4.27.21:

_L’Italie avant la domination des Romains._

Footnote 4.27.22:

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

Footnote 4.27.23:

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

Footnote 4.27.24:

See p. 793.

Footnote 4.27.25:

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

Footnote 4.27.26:

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

Footnote 4.27.27:

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

Footnote 4.27.28:

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

Footnote 4.27.29:

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

Footnote 4.27.30:

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

Footnote 4.27.31:

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

Footnote 4.27.32:

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

Footnote 4.27.33:

[_Michelia champaka._]

Footnote 4.27.34:

[The double jasmine, _Jasminum zambak_.]

Footnote 4.27.35:

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

Footnote 4.27.36:

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

Footnote 4.27.37:

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

Footnote 4.27.38:

Thermometer 59°, 82°, 85°, 79°.

Footnote 4.27.39:

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

Footnote 4.27.40:

See Vol. I. p. 228.

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