=Dhāreswar=, _February 14_: six miles; therm. 46° at 5 A.M.—From Kanera
to Dhareswar there is a gradual descent, perhaps equal to one-third of
the angle of ascent of the table-land. For half the distance the surface
is a fine rich soil, but the last half is strewed with fragments of the
rock. Dhareswar is beautifully situated at the lowest point of descent,
with a clear stream, planted with fine timber to the south. The Bhumia
rights are enjoyed by some Kachhwaha Rajputs, who pay a share of the
crops to Kanera. Passed a few small hamlets in the grey of the morning,
and several herd of elk-deer, who walked away from us with great
deliberation; but the surface was too stony to try our horses’ mettle.
_15th_, =Ratangarh Kheri=, distance nine miles.—The road over a bare
rock, skirting a stream flowing on its surface. Two miles from Dhareswar
is the boundary of Kanera, and the Chaurasi (eighty-four townships) of
Kheri; the descent still graduating to Kheri, which is probably not
above one hundred feet higher than the external plains [637] of Mewar.
The road was over loose stones with much jungle, but here and there some
fine patches of rich black soil. We kept company with the Dhareswar
_nala_ all the way, which is well wooded in its course, and presented a
pretty fall at one point of our journey. Passed several hamlets, and a
colony of Charans, whom I found to be some of my friends of Marla. They
had not forgotten their privilege; but as the ladies were only the
matrons of the colony, there would have been no amusement in captivity;
so I dropped five rupees into the brazen _kalas_, and passed on. The
cavalcade of the Kamavisdar of Kheri was also at hand, consisting of
about two hundred horse and foot, having left his castle on the peak to
greet and conduct me to my tents. He is a relation of old Lalaji Balal,
and intelligent and polite. Our tents were pitched near the town, to
which the Pandit conducted us; after which act of civility, in the
character of the _locum tenens_ of my friend Lalaji, and his sovereign
Sindhia (in whose camp I sojourned twelve long years), he took his
leave, inviting me to the castle; but as it contained nothing antique, I
would not give cause for jealousy to his prince by accepting his
invitation, and civilly declined.
The Chaurasi, or eighty-four [townships] of Ratangarh Kheri, was in S.
1828 (A.D. 1772) assigned to Mahadaji Sindhia, to pay off a
war-contribution; and until S. 1832, its revenues were regularly
accounted for. It was then made over to Berji Tap, the son-in-law of
Sindhia, and has ever since remained alienated from Mewar. The treason
of the chief of Begun, one of the sixteen nobles of the Rana, lost this
jewel in his crown, for he seized upon the Chaurasi, which adjoined his
own estate, situated on the skirt of this alpine region. To expel him
the Rana called on Sindhia, who not only took the Chaurasi, but Begun
itself, which was heavily fined, and forty of its best villages, or half
his fief, were mortgaged to pay the mulct. The landscape from these
heights is very fine; the Pandit, from his aerial abode, can look down
on Kheri, and exclaim with Selkirk—
I am monarch of all I survey,
but I would dispute his right with all my heart, if I could do so with
success.
=Little Atoa.=[11.5.1]—Distance eight miles, thermometer at daybreak
40°, with a cutting wind, straight from the north, which we keenly felt
as our party ascended the heights of Ratangarh. The altitude of this
second steppe in the plateau is under four hundred feet, although the
winding ascent made it by the perambulator five furlongs. The fort is
erected on a projection of the mountain, and the works are in pretty
good order. They had been adding fresh ones on the accessible side,
which the general state of [638] security has put a stop to. In fact, it
could not hold out twenty-four hours against a couple of mortars, the
whole interior being commanded from a height within easy range. I asked
my old guide if the castle had ever stood a storm: his reply was in the
negative: “She is still a _kumari_ (a virgin), and all forts are termed
_kumaris_, until they stand an assault.”[11.5.2] We had a superb view
from the summit, which is greatly above the level of Kanera, whose
boundary line was distinct. The stream from Dhareswar was traced gliding
through its embankments of black rock, covered with luxuriant young
crops, and studded with mango and mahua trees. It is a singular fact,
that the higher we ascended, the less mischief had been inflicted on the
crops, although the sugar-cane looked prematurely ripe. The wheat fields
were luxuriant, but the barley showed in their grizzly beards here and
there an evidence of having suffered. I also noted that invariably all
the low branches of the mahua trees were injured, the leaves shrivelled
and dried up, while the superior ones were not affected. The field-peas
(_batloi_)[11.5.3] sown with the barley were more or less injured, but
not nearly so much as at Kanera.
The road was execrable, if road it could be termed, which for many miles
was formed for me by the kindness of the Pandit, who cut a path through
the otherwise impenetrable jungle, the abode of elks and tigers,
sufficient to pass my baggage. This route is never passed by troops; but
I had curiosity to indulge, not comfort. About four miles from the
castle, we ascended another moderate elevation to the village of Umar,
whence we saw Paragarh on the left, and learning that it contained an
inscription, I dispatched one of my pandits to copy it. A mile farther
brought us to the extremity of the ridge serving as a landmark to the
Chaurasi of Kheri. From it we viewed another steppe, that we shall
ascend the day after to-morrow, from which I am told the Patar gradually
shelves to the banks of the Chambal, the termination of our journey. As
we passed the village of Ummedpura (Hopetown), a sub-infeudation of
Begun, held by the uncle of its chief, we were greeted by the Thakur,
accompanied by two of his kinsmen. They were all well mounted, lance in
hand, and attired in their quilted tunics and deer-skin doublet, of
itself no contemptible armour. They conveyed their chief’s compliments,
and having accompanied me to my tents, took leave.
=Chhota=, or little Atoa, is also held by a sub-vassal of the same clan,
the Meghawats of Begun; his name Dungar Singh, ‘the mountain lion,’ now
with me, and who long enjoyed the pre-eminent distinction of being chief
reiver of the Patar [639]. With our party he has the familiar
appellation of Roderic Dhu, and without boasting of his past exploits,
he never dreams of their being coupled with dishonour. Although he
scoured the country far and near to bring blackmail to his
mountain-retreat, it was from the Mahrattas chiefly that his wants were
supplied; and he required but the power, to have attained the same
measure of celebrity as his ancestor the ‘Blackcloud’ (Kala-megh) of
Begun. Still, his name was long the bugbear of this region, and the
words _Dungar Singh aya!_ ‘the mountain lion is at hand!’ were
sufficient to scare the peaceful occupants of the surrounding country
from their property, or to arm them for its defence. With the ‘Southron’
he had just cause of quarrel, since, but for him, he would have been
lord of Nadwai and its twenty-four villages, of which his grandfather
was despoiled at the same time that this alpine region was wrested by
Sindhia from his sovereign. This _tappa_, however, fell to Holkar; but
the father of Dungar, lance in hand, gave the conqueror no rest, until
he granted him a lease in perpetuity of four of the villages of his
patrimony, two of which were under Holkar’s own seal, and two under that
of the renter. About twenty years ago, the latter having been resumed,
Sheo Singh took up his lance again, and initiated the mountain-lion, his
son, in the _lex talionis_. He flung away the scabbard, sent his family
for security to the Raja of Shahpura, and gave his mind up to vengeance.
The father and son, and many other brave spirits with the same cause of
revenge, carried their incursions into the very heart of Malwa, bringing
back the spoils to his den at little Atoa. But though his hand was now
raised against every man, he forgot not his peculiar feud (_wair_), and
his patrimony of Nadwai yielded little to the Mahratta. But Sheo Singh
was surrounded by foes, who leagued to circumvent him, and one day,
while driving many a goodly buffalo to his shelter, he was suddenly
beset by a body of horse placed in ambush by the Bhao. But both were
superbly mounted, and they led them a chase through Mandalgarh, and were
within the very verge of security, when, as Sheo Singh put his mare to
the _nala_, she played him false and fell, and ere she recovered herself
the long lance of Mahratta was through the rider. Young Dungar was more
fortunate, and defying his pursuers to clear the rivulet, bound up the
body of his father in his scarf, ascended the familiar path, and burnt
it at midnight, amongst the family altars of Nadwai. But far from
destroying, this only increased the appetite for vengeance, which has
lasted till these days of peace; and, had every chieftain of Mewar acted
like Dungar, the Mahratta would have had fewer of their fields to batten
on to-day. His frank, but energetic answer, when the envoy mentioned the
deep complaints urged [640] against him by the present manager of
Nadwai, was “I must have bread!” and this they had snatched from him.
But Holkar’s government, which looks not to the misery inflicted,
carries loud complaints to the resident authorities, who can only decide
on the principle of possession, and the abstract view of Dungar’s course
of life. For myself, I do not hesitate to avow, that my regard for the
chiefs of Mewar is in the ratio of their retaliation on their ‘Southron’
foe; and entering deeply into all their great and powerful grounds for
resentment, I warmly espoused the cause of the ‘mountain-lion’; and as
the case (through Mr. Gerald Wellesley) was left by Holkar’s government
to my arbitration, I secured to the chief a part of his patrimony under
their joint seal, and left him to turn his lance into a plough-share,
until fresh causes for just aggression may arise. This settlement gave
me another proof of the inalienable right in land granted by the ryot
cultivator, and its superiority over that granted by the sovereign.
There were certain rights in the soil (_bhum_) which Dungar’s ancestors
had thus obtained, in the township of Nadwai, to which he attached a
higher value than to the place itself. Dungar’s story affords a curious
instance of the laws of adoption superseding, if not the rank, the
fortune resulting from birthright. Sheo Singh and Daulat Singh, both
sub-vassals of Begun, were brothers; the former had Nadwai, the latter
Rawarda. But Daulat Singh, having no issue, adopted Salim Singh, the
younger brother of Dungar, who has thus become lord of Rawarda, of
nearly four thousand rupees annual rent, while Dungar’s chief place is
little Atoa, and the _bhum_ of Nadwai. Salim Singh is now in high favour
with his chief of Begun, to whom he is Faujdar, or leader of the
vassals. In personal appearance he has greatly the advantage of Dungar;
Salim is tall and very handsome, bold in speech and of gentlemanly
deportment; Dungar is compact in form, of dark complexion, rugged in
feature, and bluntness itself in phrase, but perfectly good-humoured,
frank, and unreserved; and as he rode by my side, he amused me with many
anecdotes connected with the scenery around.
=Singoli=,[11.5.4] _February 17_, eight and a half miles, thermometer
40°.—This town is chief of a _tappa_ or subdivision, containing
fifty-two villages, of the district of Antri, a term applied to a
defile, or tract surrounded by mountains. The Antri of Mewar is
fertilized by the Bamani, which finds its way through a singular
diversity of country, after two considerable falls, to the Chambal, and
is about thirty miles in length, reckoning from Bichor to the summit of
the steppe of the plateau, by about ten miles in breadth, producing the
most luxuriant crops of wheat, barley, gram, sugar-cane, and poppy; and
[641] having, spread over its surface, one hundred villages and hamlets,
but a section of the country will make it better understood.
[Illustration:
3 _descent to the Chambal_.
2 _Ratangarh_
_Kanara_ _Singoli_
_Khari_
_Jawd. plains of Mewar._
Diagram of part of Eastern Mewār.]
From Bichor, the pass opening from the plains of Mewar, to the highest
peak of this alpine Patar, the Kala Megh, or ‘black cloud,’ of Begun,
bore sway. From him sprung another of the numerous clans of Mewar, who
assumed the patronymic Meghawat. These clans and tribes multiply, for
Kala Megh and his ancestors were recognized as a branch of the Sangawat,
one of the early subdivisions of the Chondawat, the chief clan of Mewar.
The descendant of the ‘black cloud,’ whose castle of Begun is near the
entrance to Antri, could not now muster above a hundred and fifty men at
arms throughout the Patar; to which he might add as many more of foreign
Rajputs, as the Hara and Gaur, holding lands for service. The head of
the Meghawats has not above twenty villages in his fief of Begun, though
these might yield twenty-five thousand rupees annually, if cultivated;
the rest is still in the hands of the Mahrattas, as a mortgage
contracted nearly forty years ago, and which has been liquidated ten
times over: they include, in this, even a third of the produce of his
own place of residence, and the town itself is never free from these
intruders, who are continually causing disturbances. Unhappily for
Mewar, the grand principle of the campaign and its political results,
“that of excluding the Mahrattas from the west bank of the Chambal,” was
forgotten in our successes, or all the alienated lands of Mewar as far
as the Malwa frontier would have reverted to the Rana.
=The Chief of Ummedpura.=—The hamlets on the Patar consist of huts with
low mud walls, and tiled roofs; even Ummedpura, though inhabited by the
uncle of the chief, is no better than the rest, and his house is one
which the poorest peasant in England would not occupy. Yet steeped in
poverty, its chieftain, accompanied by his son, nephew, and fifteen more
of his kin and clan, came “for the purpose of doing himself, his lord
paramount of Begun, and the British Agent, honour.” The mountain-chief
of Ummedpura affords a fine example [642], that noble bearing may be
independent of the trappings of rank; high descent and proper
self-respect appeared in every feature and action. Dressed in a homely
suit of _amaua_, or russet green, with a turban of the same (the
favourite hunting costume of the Rajput); over all the corselet of the
skin of the elk, slain by himself; with his bright lance in hand, and
mounted on a good strong horse, whose accoutrements like his master’s
were plain but neat, behold the vassal of Ummedpura equipped for the
chase or foray. The rest of his party followed him on foot, gay and
unconcerned as the wild-deer of the Patar; ignorant of luxury, except a
little _amalpani_ when they go to Begun; and whose entire wants,
including food, raiment, gunpowder, and tobacco, can be amply supplied
by about £8 a year each! The party accompanied me to my tents, and
having presented brilliant scarlet turbans and scarfs, with some English
gunpowder, to the chief, his son, and nephew, we parted mutually pleased
at the rencontre.
The descent to Singoli is very gentle, nor are we above eighty feet
below the level of Umar, the highest point of the Patar, which I rejoice
to have visited, but lament the want of my barometers. Singoli, in such
a tract as this, may be entitled a town, having fifteen hundred
inhabited dwellings encompassed by a strong wall. The Pandit is indebted
to his own good management, and the insecurity around him, for this
numerous population. In the centre of the town, the dingy walls of a
castle built by Alu Hara strike the eye, from the contrast with the new
works added by the Pandit; it has a deep ditch, with a _fausse-braye_,
and parapet. The circumvallation measures a mile and three-quarters.
About a mile to the north-west are the remains of a temple to Vijayaseni
Bhavani, the Pallas of the Rajputs. I found a tablet recording the piety
of the lord paramount of the Patar, in a perpetual gift of lights for
the altar. It runs thus: “Samvat 1477 (A.D. 1421), the 2d of Asoj, being
Friday (_Bhriguwar_[11.5.5]), Maharaja Sri Mokal-ji, in order to furnish
lights (_jyotis waste_) for Vijayaseni Bhavaniji [643], has granted one
bigha and a half of land. Whosoever shall set aside this offering, the
goddess will overtake him.” This is a memorial of the celebrated Rana
Mokal of Mewar, whose tragical death by assassination has been recorded
in the annals of that State.[11.5.6] Mokal was one of the most
celebrated of this race; and he defeated, in a pitched battle at Raepur,
a grandson of the emperor of Delhi. He was the father of Lalbai, called
‘the Ruby of Mewar,’ regarding whom we have related a little scandal
from the chronicle of the Bhattis (see p. 1218); but the bard of
the Khichis, who says that prince Dhiraj espoused her in spite of the
insult of the desert chief, had no cause to doubt the lustre of this
gem.
=Legends of the Hāras.=—The Patar resounds with the traditionary tales
of the Haras, who, at a very early period, established themselves in
this alpine region, on which they erected twelve castles for its
protection, all of them still to be traced existing or in ruins; and
although they assumed the title of ‘lords of the Patar,’ they
acknowledged the supremacy of the Ranas of Mewar, whom they obeyed as
liege lords at this very time. Of these twelve castles, Ratangarh is the
only one not entirely dismantled; though even the ruins of another,
Dilwargarh, had been the cause of a bloody feud between the Meghawat of
Begun and the Saktawat of Gwalior, also in the Patar. That of Paranagar,
or Paroli, lies a short distance from thence, but the most famous of all
is Bumbaoda, placed upon the western crest of the plateau, and
overlooking the whole plain of Mewar. Although some centuries have
elapsed since the Haras were expelled from this table-land, the name of
Alu of Bumbaoda still lives, and is familiar even to the savage Bhil,
who, like the beasts, subsists upon the wild fruits of the jungles. It
is my intention to return by another route across the Patar, and to
visit the site of Alu’s dwelling; meanwhile I will give one of the many
tales related of him by my guide, as I traversed the scenes of his
glory.
=Ālu Hāra.=—Alu Hara, one day, returning homeward from the chase, was
accosted by a Charan, who, having bestowed his blessing upon him, would
accept of nothing in exchange but [644] the turban from his head.
Strange as was the desire, he preferred compliance to incurring the
_visarwa_,[11.5.7] or ‘vituperation of the bard’; who, placing Alu’s
turban on his own head, bade him ‘live a thousand years,’ and departed.
The Charan immediately bent his steps to Mandor, the capital of Maru;
and as he was ushered into the presence of its prince and pronounced the
_birad_ of the Rathors, he took off his turban with the left hand, and
performed his salutation with the right. The unusual act made the prince
demand the cause, when in reply he was told “that the turban of Alu Hara
should bend to none on earth.” Such reverence to an obscure chief of the
mountains of Mewar enraged the King of the Desert, who unceremoniously
kicked the turban out of doors. Alu, who had forgotten the strange
request, was tranquilly occupied in his pastime, when his quondam friend
again accosted him, his head bare, the insulted turban under his arm,
and loudly demanding vengeance on the Rathor, whose conduct he related.
Alu was vexed, and upbraided the Charan for having wantonly provoked
this indignity towards him. “Did I not tell you to ask land, or cattle,
or money, yet nothing would please you but this rag; and my head must
answer for the insult to a vile piece of cloth; for nothing appertaining
to Alu Hara shall be insulted with impunity even by the Thakur of
Marwar.” Alu forthwith convened his clan, and soon five hundred “sons of
one father” were assembled within the walls of Bumbaoda, ready to follow
wheresoever he led. He explained to them the desperate nature of the
enterprise from which none could expect to return; and he prepared the
fatal Johar for all those who determined to die with him. This first
step to vengeance being over, the day of departure was fixed; but
previous to this he was anxious to ensure the safety of his nephew, who,
on failure of direct issue, was the adopted heir of Bumbaoda. He
accordingly locked him up in the inner keep of the castle, within seven
gates, each of which had a lock, and furnishing him with provisions,
departed.
The prince of Mandor was aware he had entailed a feud; but so little did
he regard what this mountain-chief might do, that he proclaimed “all the
lands over which the Hara should march to be in _dan_ (gift) to the
Brahmans.” But Alu, who despised not the aid of stratagem, disguised his
little troop as horse-merchants, and placing their arms and caparisons
in covered carriages, and their steeds in long strings, the hostile
caravan reached the capital unsuspected. The party took rest for the
night; but with the dawn they saddled, and the nakkaras of the Hara
awoke the Rathor prince from his slumber; starting up, he demanded who
was the audacious [645] mortal that dared to strike his drum at the
gates of Mandor? The answer was,—“Alu Hara of Bumbaoda!”
The mother (probably a Chauhani) of the King of Maru now asked her son
“how he meant to fulfil his vaunt of giving to the Brahmans all the
lands that the Hara passed over?” but he had the resolution to abide by
his pledge, and the magnanimity not to take advantage of his
antagonist’s position; and to his formal challenge, conveyed by beat of
nakkara, he proposed that single combats should take place, man for man.
Alu accepted it, and thanked him for his courtesy, remarking to his
kinsmen, “At least we shall have five hundred lives to appease our
revenge!”
The lists were prepared; five hundred of the “chosen sons of Siahji”
were marshalled before their prince to try the manhood of the Haras; and
now, on either side, a champion had stepped forth to commence this
mortal strife, when a stripling rushed in, his horse panting for breath,
and demanded to engage a gigantic Rathor. The champions depressed their
lances, and the pause of astonishment was first broken by the
exclamation of the Hara chieftain, as he thus addressed the youth: “Oh!
headstrong and disobedient, art thou come hither to extinguish the race
of Alu Hara?”—“Let it perish, uncle (_kaka_), if, when you are in peril,
I am not with you!” replied the adopted heir of Bumbaoda. The veteran
Rathor smiled at the impetuous valour of the youthful Hara, who advanced
with his sword ready for the encounter. His example was followed by his
gallant antagonist, and courtesy was exhausted on either side to yield
the first blow; till, at length, Alu’s nephew accepted it; and it
required no second, for he clove the Rathor in twain. Another took his
place—he shared the same fate; a third, a fourth, and in like manner
twenty-five, fell under the young hero’s sword. But he bore ‘a charmed
life’; the queen of armies (_Vijayaseni_), whose statue guards the
entrance of Bumbaoda, had herself enfranchized the youth from the
sevenfold gates, in which his uncle had incarcerated him, and having
made him invulnerable except in one spot (the neck),[11.5.8] sent him
forth to aid his uncle, and gain fresh glory for the race of which she
was the guardian. But the vulnerable point was at length touched, and
Alu saw the child of his love and his adoption stretched upon the earth.
The queen-mother of the Rathors, who witnessed the conflict, dreaded a
repetition of such valour, from men in whom desire of life was extinct;
and she commanded that the contest should cease, and reparation be made
to the lord of the Patar, by giving him in marriage a daughter of
Mandor. Alu’s honour was redeemed; he accepted the offer, and with his
bride repaired to the desolate Bumbaoda. The [646] fruit of this
marriage was a daughter; but destiny had decreed that the race of Alu
Hara should perish. When she had attained the age of marriage, she was
betrothed. Bumbaoda was once more the scene of joy, and Alu went to the
temple and invited the goddess to the wedding. All was merriment; and
amongst the crowd of mendicants who besieged the door of hospitality was
a decrepit old woman, who came to the threshold of the palace, and
desired the guard to “tell Alu Hara she had come to the feast, and
demanded to see him”; but the guard, mocking her, desired her to be
gone, and “not to stand between the wind and him”: she repeated her
request, saying that “she had come by special invitation.” But all was
in vain; she was driven forth with scorn. Uttering a deep curse, she
departed, and the race of Alu Hara was extinct. It was Vijayaseni
herself, who was thus repulsed from the house of which she was
protectress!
A good moral is here inculcated upon the Rajput, who, in the fatal
example of Alu Hara, sees the danger of violating the laws of
wide-extended hospitality: besides, there was no hour too sacred, no
person too mean, for such claims upon the ruler. For the present, we
shall take leave of Alu Hara, and the ‘Mother of Victory’ of the Patar,
whose shrine I hope to visit on my return from Haravati; when we shall
learn what part of her panoply she parted with to protect the gallant
heir of Bumbaoda.
=Dāngarmāu=,[11.5.9] _February 18_, eight miles; thermometer 48°.—A
choice of three routes presented itself to us this morning. To the left
lay the celebrated Menal, once the capital of Uparmal; on the right, but
out of the direct line, was the castle of Bhainsror, scarcely less
celebrated; and straight before us the pole-star and Kotah, the point to
which I was journeying. I cut the knot of perplexity by deviating from
the direct line, to descend the table-land to Bhainsror, and without
crossing the Chambal, nearly retraced my steps, along the left bank, to
Kotah, leaving Menal for my return to Udaipur. Our route lay through the
Antri, or valley, whose northern boundary we had reached, and between it
and the Bamani. The tract was barren but covered with jungle, with a few
patches of soil lodged amidst the hollows or otherwise bare rock, over
whose black surface several rills had cut a low bed, all falling into
the Bamani. One of these had a name which we need not translate, _Rani
bur-ka-khal_, and which serves as a boundary between the lands of the
Meghawats of Antri and the Saktawats of Bhainsror.
Dangarmau-Barao is a small _patta_ of twelve villages, yielding fifteen
thousand [647] rupees of annual rent; but it is now partitioned,—six
villages to each of the towns above mentioned. They are Saktawat
allotments, and the elder, Sakat Singh, has just returned from court,
where he had been to have the sword of investiture (_talwar bandhai_)
girt on him as the lord of Barao. Bishan Singh of Dangarmau is at Kotah,
where he enjoys the confidence of Zalim Singh and is commandant of
cavalry. He has erected a castle on the very summit of the third steppe
of the Patar, whose dazzling white walls contrast powerfully with the
black and bleak rock on which it stands, and render it a conspicuous
object. The Saktawats of the Patar are of the Bansi family,[11.5.10]
itself of the second grade of nobles of Mewar; and the rank of both the
chiefs of Dangarmau and Barao was the third, or that termed _gol_; but
now, having each a _patta_ (at least nominally) of above five thousand
rupees yearly rent, they are lifted into the Battisa, or amongst the
‘thirty-two’ of the second class.
The Bamani, whose course will carry us to its close at Bhainsror, flows
under the walls of both Dangarmau and Barao, and is the cause not only
of great fertility but of diversity, in this singular alpine region. The
weather has again undergone a very sensible change, and is extremely
trying to those, who, like myself, are affected by a pulmonary
complaint, and who are obliged to brave the mists of the mountain-top
long before the sun is risen. On the second, at daybreak, the
thermometer stood at 60°, and only three days after, at 27°; again it
rose to 40° and for several days stood at this point, and 75° at midday.
The day before we ascended the Patar it rose to 54°, and 94° at noon;
and on reaching the summit, 60° and 90°; again it falls to 40°, and we
now shiver with cold. The density of the atmosphere has been
particularly annoying both yesterday and to-day. Clouds of mist rolled
along the surface of the mountain, which, when the sun cleared the
horizon, and shot about ‘spear-high’ in the heavens, produced the most
fantastic effects. The orb was clear and the sky brilliant; but the
masses of mist, though merely a thin vapour and close to the spectator,
exhibited singular and almost kaleidoscopic changes. There was scarcely
a figure that the sun did not assume; the upper half appearing
orbicular, the lower elliptical: in a second, this was reversed.
Sometimes it was wholly elliptical, with a perfect change of the axis,
the transverse and conjugate changing places—a loaf, a bowl, and at one
instant a scollop-shell, then ‘round as my shield,’ and again a segment
of a circle, and thus alternating until its ascension dissipated the
medium of this beautiful illusion, the more perfect from the sky being
cloudless. The mists disappeared from the mountain long before this
phantasmagoria finished [648].
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Footnote 11.5.1:
[About 100 miles N.N.E. of Udaipur city.]
Footnote 11.5.2:
[In Europe, at times, Metz, Tournay, Magdeburg, Londonderry, and
others bore this title. “Several ancient earthworks in England were
called Maiden Castle; the sense may possibly be a fortress capable of
being defended by maidens; there may have been an allusion to some
forgotten legend” (_New English Dict._, _s.v._). In India Hānsi was
known as Kumāri, used in the sense of ‘unviolated.’]
Footnote 11.5.3:
[This name is not found in dictionaries or gazetteers. The field pea,
_Pisum arvense_, is usually called matar (Watt, _Comm. Prod._ 902).
_Batūri_, of which this may be a corruption, is the chick pea or
gram.]
Footnote 11.5.4:
[About 105 miles N.E.E. of Udaipur city. The Bāmani joins the Chambal
at Bhainsrorgarh, about 120 miles E.N.E. of Udaipur city.]
Footnote 11.5.5:
A name of Sukracharya, the Regent of the planet Venus. The ‘star of
eve’ is always called Sukra, but presents a most unpoetic idea to the
mind, when we learn that this star, the most beautiful of the heavenly
host, is named after an immoral one-eyed male divinity, who lost his
other orb in an undignified personal collision, from an assault upon
Tara (_the_ star), the wife of a brother-god. Sukracharya,
notwithstanding, holds the office of Guru, or spiritual adviser, to
the whole celestial body—we may add _ex uno disce omnes_: and
assuredly the Hindu who takes the mythological biography of his gods
_au pied de la lettre_, cannot much strengthen his morality thereby.
The classical Hindu of these days values it as he ought, looking upon
it as a pretty astronomical fable, akin to the voyage of the
Argonauts; but the bulk enter the temple of the “thirty-three millions
of gods” with the same firmness of belief as did the old Roman his
Pantheon. The first step, and a grand one, has been made to destroy
this fabric of Polytheism, and to turn the mind of the Hindu to the
perception of his own purer creed, adoration of “the one, omniscient,
omnipotent, and eternal God.” Rammohun Roy has made this step, who
“has become a law unto himself,” and a precursor, it is to be hoped,
of benefit to his race. In the practical effects of Christianity, he
is a Christian, though still a devout Brahman, adoring the Creator
alone, and exercising an extended charity, with a spirit of meekness,
toleration, and benevolence, added to manly resistance of all that
savours of oppression, which stamps him as a man chosen for great
purposes. To these moral, he adds mental qualifications of the highest
order: clear and rapid perception, vigorous comprehension, immense
industry of research, and perfect self-possession; having, moreover, a
classical knowledge, not of our language only, but of Hebrew, Greek,
Latin, Persian, Arabic, and the ‘mother-tongue,’ or _langue-mère_ of
all, the Sanskrit. [Philologists now regard Sanskrit as later than
Greek or Latin.]
Footnote 11.5.6:
By means of this simple tablet, we detect an anachronism in the
chronicle. It is stated in p. 332 of the first volume, that Kumbha
succeeded his father Rana Mokal in S. 1475, or two years anterior to
the date of the grant of lights for the goddess. Such checks upon
Rajput chronology are always falling in the way of those who will read
as they run. [Rāna Mokal (A.D. 1397-1433) was assassinated by Chacha
and Mera, the illegitimate sons of his grandfather, Khet Singh. He was
succeeded by Rāna Kūmbha his son, then a minor.]
Footnote 11.5.7:
[Dr. Tessitori writes: “The term is _visar_, ‘satire.’ I do not think
that it has anything to do with _vis_, 'poison.'”]
Footnote 11.5.8:
[Compare the story of Achilles, vulnerable only in his heel or ankles,
which his mother, Thetis, failed to plunge into the waters of Styx.]
Footnote 11.5.9:
[About 110 miles N.W.W. of Udaipur city. In the Author’s map the name
is written Dūngarmāu, which is possibly right.]
Footnote 11.5.10:
[Bānsi, 47 miles S.E. of Udaipur city, held by a Saktāwat Rāwat
(Erskine ii. A. 92).]
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