Annals and Antiquities of Rajasthan, vol. 3 of 3, by James Tod

Ummed Singh’s Revenge on Indargarh.

—An act of revenge stained the reputation of Ummeda, naturally virtuous, and but for which deed we should have to paint him as one of the bravest, wisest, and most faultless characters which Rajput history has recorded. Eight years had elapsed since the recovery of his dominions, and we have a right to infer that his wrongs and their authors had been forgotten, or rather forgiven, for human nature can scarcely forget so treacherous an act as that of his vassal of Indargarh, on the defeat of Dablana. As so long a time had passed since the restoration without the penalty of his treason being exacted, it might have been concluded that the natural generosity of this high-minded prince had co-operated with a wise policy, in passing over the wrong without forgoing his right to avenge it. The degenerate Rajput, who could at such a moment witness the necessities of his prince and refuse to relieve them, could never reflect on that hour without self-abhorrence; but his spirit was too base to offer reparation by a future life of duty; he cursed the magnanimity of the man he had injured; hated him for his very forbearance, and aggravated the part he had acted by fresh injuries, and on a point too delicate to admit of being overlooked. Ummeda had ‘sent the coco-nut,’ the symbol of matrimonial alliance, to Madho Singh, in the name of his sister. It was received in a full assembly of all the nobles of the court, and with the respect due to one of the most illustrious races of Rajputana. Deo Singh of Indargarh was at that time on a visit at Jaipur, and the compliment was paid him by the Raja of asking “what fame said of the daughter of Budh Singh?” It is not impossible that he might have sought this opportunity of further betraying his prince; for his reply was an insulting innuendo, leading to doubts as to the purity of her blood. That it was grossly false, was soon proved by the solicitation of her hand by Raja Bijai Singh of Marwar. “The coco-nut was returned to Bundi,”—an insult never to be forgiven by a Rajput [495].

In S. 1813 (A.D. 1757), Ummeda went to pay his devotions at the shrine of Bijaiseni Mata (‘the mother of victory’), near Karwar.^[15] Being in the vicinity of Indargarh, he invited its chief to join the assembled vassals with their families; and though dissuaded, Deo Singh obeyed, accompanied by his son and grandson. All were cut off at one fell swoop, and the line of the traitor was extinct: as if the air of heaven should not be contaminated by the smoke of their ashes, Ummeda commanded that the bodies of the calumnious traitor and his issue should be thrown into the lake. His fief of Indargarh was given to his brother, between whom and the present incumbent four generations have passed away.

Fifteen years elapsed, during which the continual scenes of disorder around him furnished ample occupation for his thoughts. Yet, in the midst of all, would intrude the remembrance of this single act, in which he had usurped the powers of Him to whom alone it belongs to execute vengeance. Though no voice was lifted up against the deed, though he had a moral conviction that a traitor’s death was the due of Deo Singh, his soul, generous as it was brave, revolted at the crime, however sanctified by custom,^[16] which confounds the innocent with the guilty. To appease his conscience, he determined to abdicate the throne, and pass the rest of his days in penitential rites, and traversing, in the pilgrim’s garb, the vast regions of India, to visit the sacred shrines of his faith.

Abdication of Mahārāo Ummed Singh.

—In S. 1827 (A.D. 1771), the imposing ceremony of ‘Jugraj,’ which terminated the political existence of Ummeda, was performed. An image of the prince was made, and a pyre was erected, on which it was consumed. The hair and whiskers of Ajit, his successor, were taken off, and offered to the Manes; lamentation and wailing were heard in the ranwas,^[17] and the twelve days of matam, or ‘mourning,’ were passed as if Ummeda had really deceased;^[18] on the expiration of which, the installation of his successor took place, when Ajit Singh was proclaimed prince of the Haras of Bundi.

The abdicated Ummeda, with the title of Sriji (by which alone he was henceforth known), retired to that holy spot in the valley sanctified by the miraculous cure of the first ‘lord of the Patar,’^[19] and which was named after one of the fountains of the Ganges, Kedarnath. To this spot, hallowed by a multitude of associations, the warlike pilgrim brought

and had the gratification to find these exotics, whether the hardy offspring of the [496] snow-clad Himalaya, or the verge of ocean in the tropic, fructify and flourish amidst the rocks of his native abode. It is curious even to him who is ignorant of the moral vicissitudes which produced it, to see the pine of Tibet, the cane of Malacca, and other exotics, planted by the hand of the princely ascetic, flourishing around his hermitage, in spite of the intense heats of this rock-bound abode.

When Ummeda resigned the sceptre of the Haras, it was from the conviction that a life of meditation alone could yield the consolation, and obtain the forgiveness which he found necessary to his repose. But in assuming the pilgrim’s staff, he did not lay aside any feeling becoming his rank or his birth. There was no pusillanimous prostration of intellect; no puling weakness of bigoted sentiment, but the same lofty mind which redeemed his birthright, accompanied him wherever he bent his steps to seek knowledge in the society of devout and holy men. He had read in the annals of his own and of other States, that “the trappings of royalty were snares to perdition, and that happy was the man who in time threw them aside and made his peace with heaven.” But in obeying, at once, the dictates of conscience and of custom, he felt his mind too much alive to the wonders of creation, to bury himself in the fane of Kanhaiya, or the sacred baths on the Ganges; and he determined to see all those holy places commemorated in the ancient epics of his nation, and the never-ending theme of the wandering devotee. In this determination he was, perhaps, somewhat influenced by that love of adventure in which he had been nurtured, and it was a balm to his mind when he found that arms and religion were not only compatible, but that his pious resolution to force a way through the difficulties which beset the pilgrim’s path, enhanced the merit of his devotion. Accordingly, the royal ascetic went forth on his pilgrimage, not habited in the hermit’s garb, but armed at all points. Even in this there was penance, not ostentation, and he carried or buckled on his person one of every species of offensive or defensive weapon then in use: a load which would oppress any two Rajputs in these degenerate times. He wore a quilted tunic, which would resist a sabre-cut; besides a matchlock, a lance, a sword, a dagger, and their appurtenances of knives, pouches, and priming-horn, he had a battle-axe, a javelin, a tomahawk, a discus, bow and quiver of arrows; and it is affirmed that such was his muscular power, even when threescore and ten years had blanched his beard in wandering to and fro thus accoutred, that he could place the whole of this panoply within his shield, and with one arm not only raise it, but hold it for some seconds extended [497].

The Wanderings of Ummed Singh.

—With a small escort of his gallant clansmen, during a long series of years he traversed every region, from the glacial fountains of the Ganges to the southern promontory of Rameswaram;^[20] and from the hot-wells of Sita in Arakan,^[21] and the Moloch of Orissa,^[22] to the shrine of the Hindu Apollo at ‘the world’s end.’^[23] Within these limits of Hinduism, Ummeda saw every place of holy resort, of curiosity, or of learning; and whenever he revisited his paternal domains, his return was greeted not only by his own tribe, but by every prince and Rajput of Rajwara, who deemed his abode hallowed if the princely pilgrim halted there on his route. He was regarded as an oracle, while the treasures of knowledge which his observation had accumulated, caused his conversation to be courted and every word to be recorded. The admiration paid to him while living cannot be better ascertained than by the reverence manifested by every Hara to his memory. To them his word was a law, and every relic of him continues to be held in veneration. Almost his last journey was to the extremity of his nation, the temples at the Delta of the Indus, and the shrine of the Hindu Cybele, the terrific Agnidevi of Hinglaj, on the shores of Makran, even beyond the Rubicon of the Hindus.^[24] As he returned by Dwarka he was beset by a band of Kabas,^[25] a plundering race infesting these regions. But the veteran, uniting the arm of flesh to that of faith, valiantly defended himself, and gained a complete victory, making prisoner their leader, who, as the price of his ransom, took an oath never again to molest the pilgrims to Dwarka.

The warlike pilgrimage of Ummeda had been interrupted by a tragical occurrence, which occasioned the death of his son, and compelled him to abide for a time at the seat of government to superintend the education of his grandchild. This eventful catastrophe, interwoven in the border history of Mewar and Haraoti, is well worthy of narration, as illustrative of manners and belief, and fulfilled a prophecy pronounced centuries before by the dying Sati of Bumbaoda, that “the Rao and the Rana should never meet at the Aheria (or spring hunt) without death ensuing.” What we are about to relate was the fourth repetition of this sport with the like fatal result.

The hamlet of Bilaita, which produced but a few good mangoes, and for its population a few Minas, was the ostensible cause of dispute. The chief of Bundi, either deeming it within his territory, or desiring to consider it so, threw up a fortification, in which he placed a garrison to overawe the freebooters, who were instigated by the discontented chiefs of Mewar to represent this as an infringement of their prince’s rights. Accordingly, the Rana marched with all his chieftains, and a mercenary [498] band of Sindis, to the disputed point, whence he invited the Bundi prince, Ajit, to his camp. He came, and the Rana was so pleased with his manners and conduct, that Bilaita and its mango grove were totally forgotten. Spring was at hand; the joyous month of Phalgun, when it was necessary to open the year with a sacrifice of the boar to Gauri (see Vol. II. p. 660). The young Hara, in return for the courtesies of the Rana, invited him to open the Aheria, within the ramnas or preserves of Bundi. The invitation was accepted; the prince of the Sesodias, according to usage, distributed the green turbans and scarfs, and on the appointed day, with a brilliant cavalcade, repaired to the heights of Nanta.

Murder of Rāna Ari Singh.

—The abdicated Rao, who had lately returned from Badarinath, no sooner heard of the projected hunt, than he dispatched a special messenger to remind his son of the anathema of the Sati. The impetuous Ajit replied that it was impossible to recall his invitation on such pusillanimous grounds. The morning came, and the Rana, filled with sentiments of friendship for the young Rao, rode with him to the field. But the preceding evening, the minister of Mewar had waited on the Rao, and in language the most insulting told him to surrender Bilaita, or he would send a body of Sindis to place him in restraint, and he was vile enough to insinuate that he was merely the organ of his prince’s commands. This rankled in the mind of the Rao throughout the day; and when the sport was over, and he had the Rana’s leave to depart, a sudden idea passed across his mind of the intended degradation, and an incipient resolution to anticipate this disgrace induced him to return. The Rana, unconscious of any offence, received his young friend with a smile, repeated his permission to retire, and observed that they should soon meet again. Irresolute, and overcome by this affable behaviour, his half-formed intent was abandoned, and again he bowed and withdrew. But scarcely had he gone a few paces when, as if ashamed of himself, he summoned up the powers of revenge, and rushed, spear in hand, upon his victim. With such unerring force did he ply it, that the head of the lance, after passing through the Rana, was transfixed in the neck of his steed. The wounded prince had merely time to exclaim, as he regarded the assassin on whom he had lavished his friendship, “Oh, Hara! what have you done?” when the Indargarh chief finished the treachery with his sword. The Hara Rao, as if glorying in the act, carried off the chhattar-changi, ‘the golden sun in the sable disk,’ the regal insignia of Mewar, which he lodged in the palace of Bundi. The abdicated Ummeda, whose gratified revenge had led to a life of repentance, was horror-struck at this fresh atrocity in his house [499]: he cried, “Shame on the deed!” nor would he henceforth look on the face of his son.

A highly dramatic effect is thrown around the last worldly honours paid to the murdered king of Mewar; and although his fate has been elsewhere described, it may be proper to record it from the chronicle of his foeman.

The Obsequies of Rāna Ari Singh.

—The Rana and the Bundi prince had married two sisters, daughters of the prince of Kishangarh, so that there were ties of connexion to induce the Rana to reject all suspicion of danger, though he had been warned by his wife to beware of his brother-in-law. The ancient feud had been balanced in the mutual death of the last two princes, and no motive for enmity existed. On the day previous to this disastrous event, the Mewar minister had given a feast, of which the princes and their nobles had partaken, when all was harmony and friendship; but the sequel to the deed strongly corroborates the opinion that it was instigated by the nobles of Mewar, in hatred of their tyrannical prince; and other hints were not wanting in addition to the indignant threats of the minister to kindle the feeling of revenge. At the moment the blow was struck, a simple mace-bearer alone had the fidelity to defend his master; not a chief was at hand either to intercept the stroke, or pursue the assassin; on the contrary, no sooner was the deed consummated, than the whole chivalry of Mewar, as if panic-struck and attacked by a host, took to flight, abandoning their camp and the dead body of their master.

A single concubine remained to perform the last rites to her lord. She commanded a costly pyre to be raised, and prepared to become his companion to a world unknown. With the murdered corpse in her arms, she reared her form from the pile, and, as the torch was applied, she pronounced a curse on his murderer, invoking the tree under whose shade it was raised to attest the prophecy, “that, if a selfish treachery alone prompted the deed, within two months the assassin might be an example to mankind; but if it sprung from a noble revenge of any ancient feud, she absolved him from the curse: a branch of the tree fell in token of assent, and the ashes of the Rana and the Sati whitened the plain of Bilaita.”

Death of Mahārāo Ajīt Singh.

—Within the two months, the prophetic anathema was fulfilled; the Rao of the Haras was a corpse, exhibiting an awful example of divine vengeance: “the flesh dropped from his bones, and he expired, an object of loathing and of misery.” Hitherto these feuds had been balanced by the lex talionis, or its substitutes, but this last remains unappeased, strengthening the belief that it was prompted from Mewar [500].

Mahārāo Bishan Singh, A.D. 1770-1821.

—Bishan Singh, the sole offspring of Ajit, and who succeeded to the gaddi, was then an infant, and it became a matter of necessity that Sriji should watch his interests. Having arranged the affairs of the infant Rao, and placed an intelligent Dhabhai (foster-brother) at the head of the government, he recommenced his peregrinations, being often absent four years at a time, until within a few years of his death, when the feebleness of age confined him to his hermitage of Kedarnath.

It affords an additional instance of Rajput instability of character, or rather of the imperfection of their government, that, in his old age, when a life of austerity had confirmed a renunciation which reflection had prompted, the venerable warrior became an object of distrust to his grandchild. Miscreants, who dreaded to see wisdom near the throne, had the audacity to add insult to a prohibition of Sriji’s return to Bundi, commanding him “to eat sweetmeats and tell his beads at Benares.” The messenger, who found him advanced as far as Nayashahr,^[27] delivered the mandate, adding that his ashes should not mingle with his fathers'. But such was the estimation in which he was held, and the sanctity he had acquired from these pilgrimages, that the sentence was no sooner known than the neighbouring princes became suitors for his society. The heroism of his youth, the dignified piety of his age, inspired the kindred mind of Partap Singh of Amber with very different feelings from those of his own tribe. He addressed Sriji as a son and a servant, requesting permission to 'darshankar' (worship him), and convey him to his capital. Such was the courtesy of the flower of the Kachhwahas! Sriji declined this mark of homage, but accepted the invitation. He was received with honour, and so strongly did the gallant and virtuous Partap feel the indignity put upon the abdicated prince, that he told him, if “any remnant of worldly association yet lurked within him,” he would in person, at the head of all the troops of Amber, place him on the throne both of Bundi and Kotah. Sriji’s reply was consistent with his magnanimity: “They are both mine already—on the one is my nephew, on the other my grandchild.” On this occasion, Zalim Singh of Kotah appeared on the scene as mediator; he repaired to Bundi, and exposed the futility of Bishan Singh’s apprehensions; and armed with full powers of reconciliation, sent Lalaji Pandit to escort the old Rao to his capital. The meeting was such as might have been expected, between a precipitate youth tutored by artful knaves, and the venerable chief who had renounced every mundane feeling but affection for his offspring. It drew tears from all eyes: “My child,” said the pilgrim-warrior, presenting his sword, “take this; apply it yourself if you think I can have any bad intentions towards you; but let not the base defame me” [501]. The young Rao wept aloud as he entreated forgiveness; and the Pandit and Zalim Singh had the satisfaction of seeing the intentions of the sycophants, who surrounded the minor prince, defeated. Sriji refused, however, to enter the halls of Bundi during the remainder of his life, which ended about eight years after this event, when his grandchild entreated “he would close his eyes within the walls of his fathers.” A remnant of that feeling inseparable from humanity made the dying Ummeda offer no objection, and he was removed in a sukhpal^[28] (litter) to the palace, where he that night breathed his last. Thus, in S. 1860 (A.D. 1804), Ummeda Singh closed a varied and chequered life; the sun of his morning rose amidst clouds of adversity, soon to burst forth in a radiant prosperity; but scarcely had it attained its meridian glory ere crime dimmed its splendour and it descended in solitude and sorrow.

Sixty years had passed over his head since Ummeda, when only thirteen years of age, put himself at the head of his Haras, and carried Patan and Gandoli. His memory is venerated in Haraoti, and but for the stain which the gratification of his revenge has left upon his fame, he would have been the model of a Rajput prince. But let us not apply the European standard of abstract virtue to these princes, who have so few checks and so many incentives to crime, and whose good acts deserve the more applause from an appalling honhar (predestination) counteracting moral responsibility.

Colonel Monson’s Campaign.

—The period of Sriji’s death was an important era in the history of the Haras. It was at this time that a British army, under the unfortunate Monson, for the first time appeared in these regions, avowedly for the purpose of putting down Holkar, the great foe of the Rajputs, but especially of Bundi.^[29] Whether the aged chief was yet alive and counselled this policy, which has since been gratefully repaid by Britain, we are not aware; but whatever has been done for Bundi has fallen short of the chivalrous deserts of its prince. It was not on the advance of our army, when its ensigns were waving in anticipation of success, but on its humiliating flight, that a safe passage was not only cheerfully granted, but aided to the utmost of the Raja’s means, and with an almost culpable disregard of his own welfare and interests. It was, indeed, visited with retribution, which we little knew, or, in the pusillanimous policy of that day, little heeded. Suffice it to say, that, in 1817, when we called upon the Rajputs to arm and coalesce with us in the putting down of rapine, Bundi was one of the foremost to join the alliance. Well she might be; for the Mahratta flag waved in unison with her own within the walls of the capital, while the revenues collected scarcely [502] afforded the means of personal protection to its prince. Much of this was owing to our abandonment of the Rao in 1804.

Compensation to Būndi after the Pindāri War.

—Throughout the contest of 1817, Bundi had no will but ours; its prince and dependents were in arms ready to execute our behest; and when victory crowned our efforts in every quarter, on the subsequent pacification, the Rao Raja Bishan Singh was not forgotten. The districts held by Holkar, some of which had been alienated for half a century, and which had become ours by right of conquest, were restored to Bundi without a qualification; while, at the same time, we negotiated the surrender to him of the districts held by Sindhia, on his paying, through us, an annual sum calculated on the average of the last ten years’ depreciated revenue. The intense gratitude felt by the Raja was expressed in a few forcible words: “I am not a man of protestation; but my head is yours whenever you require it.” This was not an unmeaning phrase of compliment; he would have sacrificed his life, and that of every Hara who “ate his salt,” had we made experiment of his fidelity. Still, immense as were the benefits showered upon Bundi, and with which her prince was deeply penetrated, there was a drawback. The old Machiavelli of Kotah had been before him in signing himself ‘fidwi Sarkar Angrez’ (the slave of the English government), and had contrived to get Indargarh, Balwan, Antardah, and Khatoli, the chief feudatories of Bundi, under his protection.

The frank and brave Rao Raja could not help deeply regretting an arrangement, which, as he emphatically said, was “clipping his wings.” The disposition is a bad one, and both justice and political expediency enjoin a revision of it, and the bringing about a compromise which would restore the integrity of the most interesting and deserving little State in India.^[30] Well has it repaid the anxious care we manifested for its interests; for while every other principality has, by some means or other, caused uneasiness or trouble to the protecting power, Bundi has silently advanced to comparative prosperity, happy in her independence, and interfering with no one. The Rao Raja survived the restoration of his independence only four short years, when he was carried off by that scourge, the cholera morbus. In his extremity, writhing under a disease which unmans the strongest frame and mind, he was cool and composed. He interdicted his wives from following him to the pyre, and bequeathing his son and successor [503] to the guardianship of the representative of the British government, breathed his last in the prime of life.

Death and Character of Mahārāo Bishan Singh.

—The character of Bishan Singh may be summed up in a few words. He was an honest man, and every inch a Rajput. Under an unpolished exterior, he concealed an excellent heart and an energetic soul; he was by no means deficient in understanding, and possessed a thorough knowledge of his own interests. When the Mahrattas gradually curtailed his revenues, and circumscribed his power and comforts, he seemed to delight in showing how easily he could dispense with unessential enjoyments; and found in the pleasures of the chase the only stimulus befitting a Rajput. He would bivouac for days in the lion’s lair, nor quit the scene until he had circumvented the forest king, the only prey he deemed worthy of his skill. He had slain upwards of one hundred lions with his own hand, besides many tigers, and boars innumerable had been victims to his lance. In this noble pastime, not exempt from danger, and pleasurable in proportion to the toil, he had a limb broken, which crippled him for life, and shortened his stature, previously below the common standard. But when he mounted his steed and waved his lance over his head, there was a masculine vigour and dignity which at once evinced that Bishan Singh, had we called upon him, would have wielded his weapon as worthily in our cause as did his glorious ancestors for Jahangir or Shah Alam. He was somewhat despotic in his own little empire, knowing that fear is a necessary incentive to respect in the governed, more especially amongst the civil servants of his government; and, if the Court Journal of Bundi may be credited, his audiences with his chancellor of the exchequer, who was his premier, must have been amusing to those in the antechamber. The Raja had a reserved fund, to which the minister was required to add a hundred rupees daily; and whatever plea he might advance for the neglect of other duties, on this point none would be listened to, or the appeal to Indrajit was threatened. “The conqueror of Indra” was no superior divinity, but a shoe of superhuman size suspended from a peg, where a more classic prince would have exhibited his rod of empire. But he reserved this for his barons, and the shoe, thus misnamed, was the humiliating corrective for an offending minister.

The Ministers of Būndi.

—At Bundi, as at all these patriarchal principalities, the chief agents of power are few. They are four in number, namely: 1. The Diwan, or Musahib; 2. The Faujdar, or Kiladar; 3. The Bakhshi; 4. The Risala, or Comptroller of Accounts [504].^[31]

This little State became so connected with the imperial court, that, like Jaipur, the princes adopted several of its customs. The Pardhan, or premier, was entitled Diwan and Musahib; and he had the entire management of the territory and finances. The Faujdar or Kiladar is the governor of the castle, the Maire de Palais, who at Bundi is never a Rajput, but some Dhabhai or foster-brother, identified with the family, who likewise heads the feudal quotas or the mercenaries, and has lands assigned for their support. The Bakhshi controls generally all accounts; the Risala those of the household expenditure. The late prince’s management of his revenue was extraordinary. Instead of the surplus being lodged in the treasury, it centred in a mercantile concern conducted by the prime minister, in the profits of which the Raja shared. But while he exhibited but fifteen per cent gain in the balance-sheet, it was stated at thirty. From this profit the troops and dependents of the court were paid, chiefly in goods and grain, and at such a rate as he chose to fix.^[32] Their necessities, and their prince being joint partner in the firm, made complaint useless; but the system entailed upon the premier universal execration.

Bishan Singh left two legitimate sons: the Rao Raja Ram Singh, then eleven years of age, who was installed in August 1821; and the Maharaja Gopal Singh, a few months younger. Both were most promising youths, especially the Raja. He inherited his father’s passion for the chase, and even at this tender age received from the nobles ^[33] their nazars and congratulations on the first wild game he slew. Hitherto his pigmy sword had been proved only on kids or lambs. His mother, the queen-regent, is a princess of Kishangarh, amiable, able, and devoted to her son. It is ardently hoped that this most interesting State and family will rise to their ancient prosperity, under the generous auspices of the government which rescued it from ruin. In return, we may reckon on a devotion to which our power is yet a stranger—strong hands and grateful hearts, which will court death in our behalf with the same indomitable spirit that has been exemplified in days gone by. Our wishes are for the prosperity of the Haras! [505].

Formation of Kotah State.

—The early history of the Haras of Kotah belongs to Bundi, of which they were a junior branch. The separation took place when Shah Jahan was emperor of India, who bestowed Kotah and its dependencies on Madho Singh, the second son of Rao Ratan, for his distinguished gallantry in the battle of Burhanpur.^[1]

Rāo Mādho Singh, c. A.D. 1625-30.

—Madho Singh was born in S. 1621 (A.D. 1565). At the early age of fourteen, he displayed that daring intrepidity which gave him the title of Raja, and Kotah with its three hundred and sixty townships (then the chief fief of Bundi, and yielding two lakhs of rent), independent of his father.

It has already been related, that the conquest of this tract was made from the Khota Bhils of the Ujla, the ‘unmixed,’ or aboriginal race. From these the Rajput will eat, and all classes will ‘drink water’ at their hands.^[2] Kotah was at that time but a series of hamlets, the abode of the Bhil chief, styled Raja, being the ancient fortress of Ekelgarh, five coss south of Kotah. But when Madho Singh was enfeoffed by the king, Kotah had already attained extensive limits. To the south it was bounded by Gagraun and Ghatoli, then held by the Khichis; on the east, by Mangrol and [506] Nahargarh, the first belonging to the Gaur, the last to a Rathor Rajput, who had apostatized to save his land and was now a Nawab; to the north, it extended as far as Sultanpur, on the Chambal, across which was the small domain of Nanta. In this space were contained three hundred and sixty townships, and a rich soil fertilized by numerous large streams.

The favour and power Madho Singh enjoyed, enabled him to increase the domain he held direct of the crown, and his authority at his death extended to the barrier between Malwa and Haraoti. Madho Singh died in S. 1687, leaving five sons, whose appanages became the chief fiefs of Kotah. To the holders and their descendants, in order to mark the separation between them and the elder Haras of Bundi, the patronymic of the founder was applied, and the epithet Madhani is sufficiently distinctive whenever two Haras, bearing the same name, appear together. These were—

Rāo Mukund Singh, A.D. 1630-57.

—Raja Mukund Singh succeeded. To this prince the chief pass in the barrier dividing Malwa from Haraoti owes its name of Mukunddarra ^[4] which gained an unfortunate celebrity on the defeat and flight of the British troops under Brigadier Monson, A.D. 1804. Mukund erected many places of strength and utility; and the palace and petta ^[5] of Anta are both attributable to him.

Raja Mukund gave one of those brilliant instances of Rajput devotion to the principle of legitimate rule, so many of which illustrate his national history. When Aurangzeb formed his parricidal design to dethrone his father Shah Jahan, nearly every Rajput rallied round the throne of the aged monarch; and the Rathors and the Haras were most conspicuous. The sons of Madho Singh, besides the usual ties of fidelity, forgot not that to Shah Jahan they owed their independence, and they determined to defend him to the death. In S. 1714, in the field near Ujjain, afterwards named by the victor Fatehabad, the five brothers led their vassals, clad in the saffron-stained garment, with the bridal maur (coronet) on their head, denoting death or victory.^[6] The imprudent intrepidity of the Rathor commander denied them the latter, but a [507] glorious death no power could prevent, and all the five brothers fell in one field. The youngest, Kishor Singh, was afterwards dragged from amidst the slain, and, though pierced with wounds, recovered. He was afterwards one of the most conspicuous of the intrepid Rajputs serving in the Deccan, and often attracted notice, especially in the capture of Bijapur. But the imperial princes knew not how to appreciate or to manage such men, who, when united under one who could control them, were irresistible.

Rāo Jagat Singh, A.D. 1657-70.

—Jagat Singh, the son of Mukund, succeeded to the family estates, and to the mansab or dignity of a commander of two thousand, in the imperial army. He continued serving in the Deccan until his death in S. 1726, leaving no issue.

Rāo Pem Singh, A.D. 1670.

—Pem Singh, son of Kaniram of Koila, succeeded; but was so invincibly stupid that the Panch (council of chiefs) set him aside after six months’ rule, and sent him back to Koila, which is still held by his descendants.^[7]

Rāo Kishor Singh I. A.D. 1670-86.

—Kishor Singh, who so miraculously recovered from his wounds, was placed upon the gaddi. When the throne was at length obtained by Aurangzeb, Kishor was again serving in the south, and shedding his own blood, with that of his kinsmen, in its subjugation. He greatly distinguished himself at the siege of Bijapur, and was finally slain at the escalade of Arkatgarh (Arcot), in S. 1742. He was a noble specimen of a Hara; and, it is said, counted fifty wounds on his person. He left three sons, Bishan Singh, Ram Singh, and Harnath Singh. The eldest, Bishan Singh, was deprived of his birthright for refusing to accompany his father to the south; but had the appanage and royal palace of Anta conferred upon him. His issue was as follows: Prithi Singh, chief of Anta, whose son, Ajit Singh, had three sons, Chhattarsal, Guman Singh, and Raj Singh.

Rāo Rām Singh, A.D. 1686-1707.

—Ram Singh, who was with his father when he was killed, succeeded to all his dignities, and was inferior to none in the contests which fill the page of imperial history, and in opposing the rise of the Mahrattas. In the war of succession, he embraced the cause of Prince Azam, the viceroy in the Deccan, against the elder, Muazzam, and was slain in the battle of Jajau, in S. 1764. In this memorable conflict, which decided the succession to the throne, the Kotah prince espoused the opposite cause to [508] the head of his house of Bundi, and Hara met Hara in that desperate encounter, when a cannon-shot terminated the life of Ram Singh in the very zenith of his career.

Rāo Bhīm Singh, A.D. 1707-20.

—Bhim Singh succeeded; and with him Kotah no longer remained a raj of the third order. On the death of Bahadur Shah, and the accession of Farrukhsiyar, Raja Bhim espoused the cause of the Sayyids, when his mansab was increased to “five thousand,” a rank heretofore confined to princes of the blood and rajas of the first class. The elder branch of the Haras maintained its fealty to the throne against these usurping ministers, and thus the breach made at the battle of Jajau was widened by their taking opposite sides. The disgraceful attempt of Raja Bhim on the life of Rao Raja Budh of Bundi has already been recorded. Having completely identified himself with the designs of the Sayyids and Jai Singh of Amber, he aided all the schemes of the latter to annihilate Bundi, an object the more easy of accomplishment since the unmerited and sudden misfortunes of Rao Budh had deprived him of his reason. Raja Bhim obtained the royal sanad or grant for all the lands on the Patar, from Kotah west, to the descent into Ahirwara east; which comprehended much land of the Khichis as well as of Bundi. He thus obtained the celebrated castle of Gagraun, now the strongest in Haraoti, and rendered memorable by its defence against Alau-d-din; likewise Mau Maidana, Shirgarh, Bara, Mangrol, and Barod, all to the eastward of the Chambal, which was formally constituted the western boundary of the State. The aboriginal Bhils of Ujla, or ‘pure’ descent, had recovered much of their ancient inheritance in the intricate tracts on the southern frontier of Haraoti. Of these, Manohar Thana, now the most southern garrison of Kotah, became their chief place, and here dwelt ‘the king of the Bhils,’ Raja Chakarsen, whose person was attended by five hundred horse and eight hundred bowmen, and to whom all the various tribes of Bhils, from Mewar to the extremity of the plateau, owed obedience. This indigenous race, whose simple life secured their preservation amidst all the vicissitudes of fortune, from Raja Bhoj of Dhar to Raja Bhim of Kotah, were dispossessed and hunted down without mercy, and their possessions added to Kotah. On the occasion of the subjugation of Bhilwara, the latter assigned tracts of land to the Umat chiefs of Narsingarh and Rajgarh Patan, with townships in thali, in Kotah proper, and hence arose the claim of Kotah on these independent States for the tribute termed tankhwah.^[8] At the same time all the [509] chieftains acknowledged the supremacy of Kotah, under articles of precisely the same nature as those which guaranteed the safety and independence of Rajwara by Britain; with this difference, that the Umats could not be installed without the khilat of recognition of the princes of Kotah. Had Raja Bhim lived, he would further have extended the borders of Haraoti, which were already carried beyond the mountains. Onarsi, Dig, Perawa, and the lands of the Chandarawats, were brought under subjection, but were lost with his death, which, like that of his predecessors, was an untimely sacrifice to duty towards the throne.

When the celebrated Kilich Khan,^[9] afterwards better known to history as Nizamu-l-mulk, fled from the court to maintain himself by force of arms in his government of the Deccan, Raja Jai Singh of Amber, as the lieutenant of the king, commanded Bhim Singh of Kotah and Gaj Singh of Narwar to intercept him in his passage. The Nizam was the Pagri badal Bhai, or ‘turban-exchanged brother,’ of the Hara prince, and he sent him a friendly epistle, entreating him “not to credit the reports to his disadvantage, telling him that he had abstracted no treasures of the empire, and that Jai Singh was a meddling knave, who desired the destruction of both; and urging him to heed him not, nor offer any molestation to his passage to the south.” The brave Hara replied, that “He knew the line between friendship and duty; he was commanded to intercept him, and had advanced for that purpose; it was the king’s order; fight him he must, and next morning would attack him.” The courtesy of the Rajput, who mingled no resentment with his hostility, but, like a true cavalier, gave due warning of his intention, was not thrown away upon the wily Muslim. The Nizam took post amidst the broken ground of the Sindh, near the town of Kurwai Borasa.^[10] There was but one approach to his position without a circuitous march, which suited not the impatient Rajput; and there his antagonist planted a battery, masked by some brushwood. At the pila badal (morning-dawn) Raja Bhim, having taken his amal-pani, or opium-water, mounted his elephant, and uniting his vassals to those of the Kachhwaha, the combined clans moved on to the attack, in one of those dense masses, with couched lances, whose shock is irresistible. They were within musket-shot of the Nizam; had they reached him, Haidarabad would never have arisen on the ruins of Gualkund,^[11] the ancient Hara abode; but the battery opened, and in an instant the elephants with their riders, Raja Bhim and Raja Gaj, were destroyed. Horse and foot became commingled, happy to emerge from the toils into which the blind confidence of their leaders had carried them; and Kilich Khan pursued the career that destiny had marked out for him [510].

Loss of the Hāra Tribal God.

—On this occasion the Haras sustained a double loss: their leader, and their titular divinity, Brajnath, the god of Braj. This palladium of the Haras is a small golden image, which is borne on the saddle-bow of their princely leader in every conflict. When the gol is formed and the lances are couched, the signal of onset is the shout of ‘Jai Brajnathji!’ ‘Victory to Brajnath!’ and many a glorious victory and many a glorious death has he witnessed. After being long missing, the representative of the god was recovered and sent to Kotah, to the great joy of every Hara. It was in S. 1776 (A.D. 1720) that Bhim Singh perished, having ruled fifteen years, during which short period he established the affairs of his little dominion on a basis which has never been shaken.