1. [Lieut.-Col. T. H. Sweeny, who has much experience in such cases, is satisfied, from the symptoms, that the attack was not due to darnel, the seeds of which, when mixed with cereals, and when they have been attacked by mildew or fungi, are deleterious. The attack was certainly due to the administration of datura fastuosa, used by road poisoners, and his recovery was due to the immediate production of vomiting.]

2. See Vol. I. p. 212.

3. [Laws, vii. 70.]

4. [Spanish pedrero, originally an engine used for flinging stones: then, a piece of ordnance for discharging fragments of broken iron and the like, and for firing salutes (see J. Fryer, A New Account of East India and Persia, ed. 1909, i. 271 f.).]

5. [A ravine, deep pool.]

6. See Vol I. p. 213.

7. By mistake, Manpura is not rightly placed in the map. [It is situated about half-way between Damnia and Māndalgarh.]

8. [About 100 miles N.E. of Udaipur city (Erskine ii. A. 118 f., quoting, for its archaeology, H. Cousens, Progress Report AS W. India, for year ending June 30, 1905).]

9. Enlargement of the spleen appears an invariable accompaniment of protracted fever and ague, arising from such causes as afflicted us. I could feel the spleen at the very pit of the stomach, as hard as a stone. The bleeding reduced it, as it did generally in my case; for the leeches were enormous, and must have each drained half an ounce of blood; but I had only the choice of them or the actual cautery, which was strongly recommended by my native friends: of two evils I chose what appeared to me the least.

10. [The origin of the Bālnot tribe is doubtful (Census Report Rājputāna, 1911, i. 256).]

11. [The Chaulukya or Solanki tribe is of Gurjara origin, which is implied in the Takshak theory of the Author. There is no reason for connecting them with a race of serpent-worshippers.]

12. Tonk-Toda is well worth visiting. The artist might fill a portfolio with architectural and picturesque sketches. Moreover, topazes of a good quality are found in its hills. The sacred cave of Gokaran, celebrated in the history of the great Chauhan king, Bisaldeo of Ajmer, is also worth notice.

13. [For Lohkot see Vol. I. p. 116.]

14. [Bārāha, Vārāha, the boar incarnation of Vishnu.]

15. [They are said to take their name from Bāghera in Ajmer.]

16. [The Baranshankar, or mixed tribes, have no connexion with a mythical Rāja Baran. The distinction of colours (varna) goes back to the early Hindu period (A. A. Macdonell, Hist. Sanskrit Literature, 86).]

17. See Inscription, Vol. II. p. 925.

18. [Nearly 10 miles S.W. of Māndalgarh.]

19. [Seventy-two miles N.E. of Udaipur city.]

20. [The edible nut, Trapa bispinosa (Watt, Econ. Prod. 1080).]

21. [About 60 miles N.E. of Udaipur city.]

22. [Pur, 72 miles N.E. of Udaipur city: Gurla on the S.W. point of the same hill-range.]

23. When the Rana was about celebrating simultaneously the marriage of two daughters and a granddaughter of the princes of Jaisalmer, Bikaner, and Kishangarh, his subjects were called on for the ‘tenth.’

24. [About 46 miles N.E. of Udaipur city.]

25. My esteemed friend, Mr. Graeme Mercer, of Maevisbank.

26. [Now headquarters of a Tahsīl in Kapāsan district: about 42 miles N.E. of Udaipur city.]

27. [These lead mines, once yielding a high revenue, have long been closed (Erskine ii. A. 53).]

28. [A trading town, about 30 miles N.E. of Udaipur city.]

29. [Among Jains at the present day the period of retreat, known as Pachasan or Paryusan, extends among the Swetāmbara section from 12th dark half of Sāwan (July-August) to 5th bright half of Bhādrapada (August-September): among the Digambara section from 5th bright half to 5th dark half of Bhādrapada (BG, ix. Part i. 113 f.). It corresponds to the Buddhist Vassavāsa or Vassa (Skt. vārshika, ‘belonging to the rainy season’) (Kern, Manual of Indian Buddhism, 80 f.).]

CHAPTER 9

Udaipur, July 1821.—When I concluded the narrative of my journey in October last year, I had no expectation that I should ever put my foot in the stirrup again, except en route to Bombay, in order to embark for Old England; but “honhar!”[1] as my Rajput friends exclaim, with a sigh, when an invincible destiny opposes their intentions. I had only awaited the termination of the monsoon to remove the wreck of a once robust frame to a more genial clime; and now, it will remain to be proved whether my worthy friend Duncan’s prophecy—“You must die, if you stay here six months more”—will be fulfilled. Poor Carey lies entombed on the heights of Merta; the doctor himself is just going off to the Cape, half-dead from the Kotah fever; and, as if that were not enough, the naharua, or guinea-worm, has blanched his cheek and made him a cripple. My cousin, Captain Waugh, is at Kotah, depressed by a continuance of the same malaria, and in a few days I again start solus, in the midst of the monsoon, for Haraoti.

Death of the Rāo Rāja of Būndi.

—A few days ago I received an express from Bundi, announcing the sudden death of my estimable friend, the Rao Raja, who in his last moments nominated me guardian of his infant son, and charged me to watch over his welfare and that of Bundi. The more formal letter of the minister was accompanied by one from the Rani, mother of the young prince, from whom also, or in his name, I had a few lines, both seconding the bequest of the dying prince, and reminding me of the dangers of a minority, and the elements by which they were surrounded. The appeal was irresistible, and the equipage was ordered out for immediate departure to Merta, and thence to Mauli, twenty-five miles distant, where I should join them.

Cholera.

—The Raja fell a victim to Mari, the emphatic appellation of cholera, which has now been wasting these regions since 1817. They might well say that, if at this important [688] period in their history we destroyed the demon of rapine which had so long preyed upon their repose, we had in lieu of it introduced death amongst them, for such is the interpretation of Mari.[2] It was in our armies that this disease first appeared in northern India; and although for some time we flattered ourselves that it was only the intemperate, the ill-fed, or ill-clothed, that fell victims to it, we soon discovered that Mari was no respecter of persons, and that the prince and the peasant, the European and the native, the robust and the weak, the well-fed and the abstinent, were alike subject to her influence. I can number four intimate friends, my brother officers, who were snatched away in the very prime of life by this disease; and in the States under my political control, it assailed in two instances, the palace: the Udaipur prince recovered, but the Bundi Rao’s time was come. He conducted himself most heroically, and in the midst of the most dreadful torture with which the human frame can be afflicted, he never lost his self-possession, but in every interval of suffering, conversed upon the affairs of his little dominion, giving the fullest instructions for the future with composure. He particularly desired that none of his wives should mount the pyre with his corpse; and that as soon as he ceased to breathe, I should be invited to Bundi; for that “he left Lalji (an endearing epithet to children) in my lap.” It was only during our last journey through Bundi that I was amused with my friend’s expedient to keep “death” out of his capital, and which I omitted to mention, as likewise the old regent’s mode of getting rid of this unwelcome visitor in Kotah; nor should they be separated. Having assembled the Brahmans, astrologers, and those versed in incantations, a grand rite was got up, sacrifice made, and a solemn decree of desvata, or banishment, was pronounced against Mari. Accordingly an equipage was prepared for her, decorated with funeral emblems, painted black and drawn by a double team of black oxen; bags of grain, also black, were put into the vehicle, that the lady might not go forth without food, and driven by a man in sable vestments, followed by the yells of the populace. Mari was deported across the Chambal, with the commands of the priests that she should never set foot again in Kotah.[3] No sooner did my deceased friend hear of her expulsion from that capital, and being placed en chemin for Bundi, than the wise men of this city were called on to provide means to keep her from entering therein. Accordingly, all the water of the Ganges at hand was in requisition, an earthen vessel was placed over the southern portal, from which the sacred water was continually dripping, and [689] against which no evil could prevail. Whether my friend’s supply of the holy water failed, or Mari disregarded such opposition, she reached his palace.[4]

Pauna, or Pahona, July 25.—Yesterday was a day of disaster: I left the capital amidst torrents of rain, and between Merta and Mauli found my best elephant lying dead; the long and sudden march, and too heavy a load, had destroyed the fine animal. It was rather ominous to lose the emblem of wisdom in the outset of this journey. We passed a most uncomfortable day, and still more uncomfortable night, for a strong gale forced up the tent-pins from the clay soil, and brought down the tent over my ears. I had an escape from the pole, part of which I propped under the fly to keep me from suffocation. Around me were nothing but yells of distress, half laughable, half serious; horses loose, and camels roaring in discordant gutturals. We were glad long before dawn to pack up our chattels, thoroughly soaked, and consequently double weight, and begin moving for Pahona, where we are promised a little repose. I have taken this route as it is the last occasion I shall have to visit the work of my own hands, the mart of Bhilwara. Pahona is or was a place of some value; but the Brahmans, through the influence of the Rana’s sister, had got it by means of a forged grant, and abided by the privileges of their order. But fortunately they abused the right of sanctuary, in giving protection to a thief and assassin from interested motives; consequently, the penalty of resumption was incurred, and we hope to suffer no other ill-effects than Chand Bai’s displeasure.

Bhīlwāra, July 26.—Varuna, the Jupiter pluvialis of the Hindu, has been most complaisant, and for two days has stopped up all the “bottles of heaven,” and I [690] made my triumphal entry into our good town of Bhilwara, on one of those days which are peculiarly splendid in the monsoon, when the sun deigns to emerge from behind the clouds.

My reception was quite Asiatic; the entire population, headed by the chief merchants, and preceded by the damsels with the kalas, advanced full a mile to meet and conduct me to a town which, a few years ago, had not one inhabited dwelling. I passed through the main street, surrounded by its wealthy occupants, who had suspended over the projecting awnings the most costly silks, brocades, and other finery, to do honour to one whom they esteemed their benefactor, and having conducted me to my tent, left me to breakfast, and returned in the afternoon. As the tent would not contain a tenth of the visitors, I had its walls removed, and all were welcome to enter who could. Every moment I expected to see it fall upon us, as there were hundreds of hands at each rope, swaying it in every direction, in their eagerness to see what was going on within between the Sahib and the Panchayat of both sects, Oswal and Mahesri, or Jain and Vaishnava. We talked over many plans for the future benefit of the town; of further reducing the duties, and giving additional freedom to the transit-trade. I offered, in the Rana’s name, to expend the next two years’ income on a circumvallation for the protection of the town; which, for many good reasons, they refused; and principally, that it would be a check on that very freedom it was my desire they should enjoy, as it would prevent uninterrupted ingress and egress. I, however, sent for the chiefs, to whom, with their quotas, was confided the duty of guarding this town, and before the assembled groups explained the necessity of preventing any complaints from want of due vigilance, and told them they were to be in lieu of walls to Bhilwara. My good friends having no inclination to retire, I sent for the presents I intended for the heads of the sectarian merchants, with the itr-pan (that most convenient mode of hinting to a friend that you are tired of him), and they departed with a thousand blessings, and prayers for the perpetuity of our raj.

Bhilwara is perhaps the most conspicuous instance in all India of the change which our predominant influence has effected in four short years; and to many it must appear almost miraculous that, within that period, a great commercial mart should be established, and three thousand houses, twelve hundred of which are those of merchants or artisans, be made habitable, the principal street being entirely rebuilt; that goods of all countries should be found there; bills of exchange to any amount, and on any city in India, obtained, and that all should be systematically organized, as if it had been [691] the silent growth of ages. To me it afforded another convincing proof, in addition to the many I have had, of the tenacity and indestructibility of the institutions in these regions, and that very little skill is requisite to evoke order and prosperity out of confusion and distress. I have no hesitation in saying that, were it not now time to withdraw from interference in the internal concerns of Mewar, the machine of government having been once more put into action, with proper management this place might become the chief mart of Rajputana, and ten thousand houses would soon find inhabitants: such are its local capabilities as an entrepôt. But while I indulge this belief, I should at the same time fear that the rigid impartiality, which has prevented the quarrels of the sectarian traders from affecting the general weal, would be lost sight of in the apathy and intrigue which are by no means banished from the councils of the capital.[5]

I bade a last farewell to Bhilwara and its inhabitants, with prayers for the welfare of both.

Bhīlwāra, 28.—Though pressed for time, and the weather had again become bad, I could not resist the kind entreaties of the people of Bhilwara that I would halt one more day amongst them; and albeit neither my health nor occupations admitted of my being the lion to the good traders of the city without inconvenience, the slight personal sacrifice was amply repaid by the more intimate acquaintance I gained with men belonging to every region of Rajwara.

Jahāzpur, 29.—This was a long march in a torrent of rain, the country flooded, and roads cut up; and although I have not incommoded myself with much baggage, the little I have is in a wretched plight. The crockery-bearer fell with his load, and smashed the contents. Passed over the encamping ground of last year, and bestowed a transient thought upon the scene enacted there. I was equally near ‘the brink’ this spring. The Rana had stopped the nakkara, and many a rupee’s-worth of kesar (saffron) was promised to the divinities both of the Jains and Vaishnavas for my recovery. My kinsman, Captain Waugh, was admitted, after many days’ exclusion, to take a last adieu; but I told the doctor I was sure he was wrong; and here I am, bound for the same scenes of misery from which I so lately escaped, and under which several of my establishment, besides poor Carey, have succumbed.

Būndi, 30.—Another fatiguing march brought us to the conclusion of our journey; and notwithstanding a deluge of rain, we were met three miles from the city by the minister and the principal chiefs, with whom an interchange of baghal-giri [692] (embracing) took place in spite of the raging elements. All preceded to announce our approach, but my faithful old friend, the Maharaja Bikramajit, whose plain and downright honesty in all that appertains to his master’s house has won my warmest regard. He rode by my side, and told me of the changes that had taken place, of the dangers of the young Ram Singh from the interested views of those who affected the semblance of devotion; “but,” observed the veteran, “you know us all, and will trust no individual with too much authority.” He could speak thus without fear of being misunderstood, for no persuasion would have induced him to enter into their cabals, or compromise his trust of watching over the personal safety of his infant prince; though without any ostensible post or character save that proud title—which was ascribed to him by all parties—‘the loyal Bikramajit.’

The beauties of the scenery passed unheeded, and have already been sufficiently described, though there is novelty in every point of view from which the fairy palace is seen; and as it burst upon us this morning, a momentary gleam, passing over its gilded pinnacles, displayed its varied outline, which as rapidly immerged into the gloom that hung over it, according well with the character of its inmates. As it was my policy to demonstrate, by the rapidity of my movements (which had brought me in six days at such a season from Udaipur to Bundi), how much the British Government had at heart the welfare of its young prince, I hastened to the palace in my travelling costume to pay my respects, wishing to get over the formal visit of condolence on the loss the prince had sustained.

I found the young chief and his brother, Gopal Singh, surrounded by a most respectable court, though, as I passed along the line of retainers occupying each side of the long colonnaded Barah-dari,[6] I could perceive looks of deep anxiety and expectation blended with those of welcome. Notwithstanding the forms of mourning must destroy much of the sympathy with grief, there is something in the settled composure of feature of an assembly like this, convened to receive the condolence of a stranger who felt for the loss in which he was called to sympathize, that fixes the mind. Although I was familiar with the rite of matam, which, since the days of “David, who sent to comfort Hanun, son of the king of the children of Ammon, when his father died,” is generally one of ‘the mockeries of woe,’ its ordinary character was changed on this occasion, when we met to deplore the loss of the chief of all the Haras.

I expressed the feelings which the late event had excited in me, in which, I observed, the most noble the governor-General would participate; adding that it was a consolation [693] to find so much promise in his successor, during whose minority his lordship would be in the place of a father to him in all that concerned his welfare; and that in thus speedily fulfilling the obligations of public duty and friendship to the will of his deceased parent, I but evinced the deep interest my government had in the rising prosperity of Bundi; that, thank God, the time was past when a minority could endanger his welfare, as it would only redouble the anxiety and vigilance of my government; with much more to the same purport, which it is unnecessary to repeat. The young prince replied with great propriety of manner and speech, concluding thus: “My father left me in your lap; he confided my well-being to your hands.” After a few remarks to the chiefs, I repaired to the residence prepared for me at no great distance from the palace. Here I found all my wants supplied and my comforts most carefully studied; and scarcely had I changed my garments, when a sumptuous dinner was announced, sent by the queen-mother, who in order to do more honour had ordered a Brahman to precede it, sprinkling the road with holy-water to prevent the approach of evil!

1. [Kismet, fate.]

2. From the Sanskrit mri, ‘to die.’

3. [Examples of this magical expulsion of disease are common. At the Bhadrakāli temple at Nāsik a Māng woman, supposed to be possessed by the cholera goddess, when the epidemic prevails, is solemnly placed in a cart, and driven out of the city (BG, xvi. 520 f.). The Bhīls practise a similar rite, and Sleeman records the custom at Sāgar (C. E. Luard, Ethnographic Survey Central India, 49, 62; Sleeman, Rambles, 162), also see Crooke, Popular Religion and Folklore of Northern India, 2nd ed. i. 141 f.; Frazer, The Golden Bough, 3rd ed., The Scapegoat, 109 ff.]

4. I have in other parts of my work touched upon this terrific scourge, from which it will be seen that it is well known throughout India under the same appellation; and it is not one of the least curious results of my endeavour to prove that the Hindus had historical documents, that by their means I am enabled to trace this disease ravaging India nearly two centuries ago. At Vol. II. p. 1022 it is thus described in the Annals of Marwar: “This, the sakha (putting a garrison to the sword) of Sojat, was when S. 1737 ended, and S. 1738, or A.D. 1681-2, commenced, when the sword and Mari (pestilence) united to clear the land.” Orme, in his Fragments [ed. 1782, p. 200], mentions a similar disease in A.D. 1684, raging in the peninsula of India, and sweeping off five hundred daily in the imperial camp at Goa; and again, in the Annals of Mewār, Vol. I. p. 454, it is described in the most frightful colours, as ravaging that country twenty years before, or in S. 1717 (A.D. 1661); so that in the space of twenty years, we have it described in the peninsula, in the desert of India, and in the plains of Central India; and what will appear not the least singular part of the history of this distemper, so analogous to the present date, about the intermediate time of these extreme periods, that is about A.D. 1669, a similar disease was raging in England. I have no doubt that other traces of the disorder may appear in the chronicles of their bards, or in Muhammadan writers, judging from these incidental notices, which might never have attracted attention had not Mari come to our own doors. I have had many patients dying about me, but no man ever dreamed of contagion; to propagate which opinion, and scare us from all the sympathies of life, without proof absolutely demonstrative, is, to say the least, highly censurable. There is enough of self in this land of ultra civilisation, without drawing a cordon sanitaire round every individual. The Udaipur prince was the first person seized with the disease in that capital: a proof to me, against all the faculty, that to other causes than personal communication its influence must be ascribed. I will not repeat the treatment in this case (see p. 1002), which may deserve notice, though prescribed by the uninitiated.

5. [The progress of Bhīlwāra has hardly realized the Author’s predictions: but it is now an important trading centre. Bishop Heber, who visited the town in 1825, speaks highly of Tod’s efforts to improve it (Erskine ii. A. 97 f.).]

6. [Bārahdari, ‘a room with twelve doors’; ‘a pavilion.’]

CHAPTER 10

Inauguration of the Rāo Rāja, August the 5th.—The ceremony of Rajtilak, or inauguration of the young Rao Raja, had been postponed as soon as the Rani-mother heard of my intention to come to Bundi, and as the joyous ‘third of Sawan,’ Sawan-ki-tij, was at hand, it was fixed for the day following that festival. As the interval between the display of grief and the expression of joy is short in these States, it would have been inauspicious to mingle aught of gloom with the most celebrated of all the festivals of the Haras, in which the whole city partakes. The queen-mother sent a message to request that I would accompany her son in the procession of the Tij, with which invitation I most [694] willingly complied; and she also informed me that it was the custom of Rajwara, for the nearest of kin, or some neighbouring prince, on such occasions, to entreat the mourner, at the termination of the twelve days of matam, to dispense with its emblems. Accordingly, I prepared a coloured dress, with a turban and a jewelled sarpesh,[1] which I sent, with a request that the prince would “put aside the white turban.” In compliance with this, he appeared in these vestments in public, and I accompanied him to the ancient palace in old Bundi, where all public festivities are still held.

The young prince of the Haras is named Ram Singh, after one of the invincibles of this race, who sealed his loyalty with his life on the field of Dholpur. He is now in his eleventh year, fair, and with a lively, intelligent cast of face, and a sedateness of demeanour which, at his age, is only to be seen in the East. Gopal Singh, his brother, by a different mother, is a few months younger, very intelligent, and in person slight, fair, and somewhat marked with the smallpox. There is a third boy, about four, who, although illegitimate, was brought up with equal regard, but now he will have no consideration.

The cavalcade was numerous and imposing; the chiefs and their retainers well mounted, their equipments all new for the occasion, and the inhabitants in their best apparel, created a spectacle which was quite exhilarating, and which Bundi had not witnessed for a century: indeed, I should hardly have supposed it possible that four years could have produced such a change in the general appearance or numbers of the population. After remaining a few minutes, I took leave, that I might impose no restraint on the mirth which the day produces.[2]

The next day was appointed for the installation. Captain Waugh, who had been sent from Udaipur to Kotah in December last, when the troubles of that State broke out afresh, joined me this day in order to be present at the ceremony, though he was in wretched health from the peculiar insalubrity of Kotah at this time of the year. We proceeded to the Rajmahall, where all the sons of Dewa-Banga[3] have been anointed. Every avenue through which we passed was crowded with well-dressed people, who gave us hearty cheers of congratulation as we went along, and seemed to participate in the feeling evinced towards their young prince by the representative of the protecting power. The courts below and around the palace were in like manner filled with the Hara retainers, who rent the air with Jai! Jai! as we dismounted. There was a very full assemblage within, where the young Raja was undergoing purification [695] by the priests; but we found his brother the Maharaja Gopal Singh, Balwant Singh of Gotra, the first noble of Bundi, the chiefs of Kapraun and Thana, old Bikramajit, and likewise the venerable chief of Dugari (son of Sriji), grand-uncle of the young prince, who had witnessed all the revolutions which the country had undergone, and could appreciate the existing repose. It was gratifying to hear this ancient, who could remember both periods of prosperity, thank Parameswar that he had lived to see the restoration of his country’s independence. In this manner we had some interesting conversation, while sacrifice and purification were going on in the adjoining apartment. When this was over, I was instructed to bring the young Raja forth and lead him to a temporary ‘cushion of state,’ when a new round of religious ceremonies took place, terminating with his re-election of the family Purohit and Byas,[4] by marking their foreheads with the tilak: which ordination entitled them to put the unction upon the prince’s, denoting the ‘divine right’ by which he was in future to rule the Haras. The young prince went through a multitude of propitiatory rites with singular accuracy and self-possession; and when they were over, the assembly rose. I was then requested to conduct him to the gaddi, placed in an elevated balcony overlooking the external court and a great part of the town; and it being too high for the young prince to reach, I raised him to it. The officiating priest now brought the vessel containing the unction, composed of sandalwood powder and aromatic oils, into which I dipped the middle finger of my right hand, and made the tilak on his forehead. I then girt him with the sword, and congratulated him in the name of my Government, declaring aloud, that all might hear, that the British Government would never cease to feel a deep interest in all that concerned the welfare of Bundi and the young prince’s family. Shouts of approbation burst from the immense crowds who thronged the palace, all in their gayest attire, while every valley re-echoed the sound of the cannon from the citadel of Taragarh. I then put on the jewels, consisting of sarpesh, or aigrette, which I bound round his turban, a necklace of pearls, and bracelets, with twenty-one shields (the tray of a Rajput) of shawls, brocades, and fine clothes. An elephant and two handsome horses, richly caparisoned, the one having silver, the other silver-gilt ornaments, with embroidered velvet saddle-cloths, were then led into the centre of the court under the balcony, a khilat befitting the dignity both of the giver and the receiver. Having gone through this form, in which I was prompted by my old friend the Maharaja Bikramajit, and paid my individual congratulations as the friend of his father and his personal guardian, I withdrew to make room for the [696] chiefs, heads of clans, to perform the like round of ceremonies: for in making the tilak, they at the same time acknowledge his accession and their own homage and fealty. I was joined by Gopal Singh, the prince’s brother, who artlessly told me that he had no protector but myself; and the chiefs, as they returned from the ceremony, came and congratulated me on the part I had taken in a rite which so nearly touched them all; individually presenting their nazars to me as the representative of the paramount power. I then made my salutation to the prince and the assembly of the Haras, and returned. The Rao Raja afterwards proceeded with his cavalcade to all the shrines in this city, and Satur, to make his offerings.

The next day I received a message from the queen-mother with her blessing (asis), intimating her surprise that I had yet sent no special deputation to her, to comfort her under her affliction, and to give a pledge for her own and her child’s protection; and that although on this point she could feel no distrust, a direct communication would be satisfactory. In reply, I urged that it was from delicacy alone I had erred, and that I only awaited the intimation that it would be agreeable, though she would see the embarrassment attending such a step, more especially as I never employed my own servants when I could command the services of the ministers; and that as I feared to give umbrage by selecting any one of them, if she would receive the four, I would send with them a confidential servant, the Akhbarnavis or newswriter, as the bearer of my message. Her anxiety was not without good grounds: the elements of disorder, though subdued, were not crushed, and she dreaded the ambition and turbulence of the senior noble, Balwant Rao of Gotra, who had proved a thorn in the side of the late Raja throughout his life. This audacious but gallant Rajput, about twelve years before, had stormed and taken Nainwa, one of the chief castles of Bundi, in the face of day, and defeated with great slaughter many attempts to retake it, still holding it in spite of his prince, and trusting to his own party and the Mahrattas for support. In fact, but for the change in his relations, he neither would have obeyed a summons to the Presence, nor dared to appear uninvited; and even now his appearance excited no less alarm than surprise. “Balwant Singh at Bundi!” was repeated by many of the surrounding chiefs, as one of the anomalous signs of the times; for to have heard that a lion from their jungles had gone to congratulate the Raja, would have caused less wonder and infinitely less apprehension. The Rani was not satisfied, nor had her late lord been, with the chief minister, the Bohra, Shambhu Ram, who only a few days before the [697] Raja’s death had expressed great unwillingness, when called on, to produce his account of the finances. It was chiefly with a view to guard against these individuals, that the deceased Rao Raja had nominated the British Agent as the guardian of his son and the State during his minority, and the queen-mother besought me to see his wishes faithfully executed. Fortunately, there were some men who could be depended on, especially Govind Ram, who had attended the Agent as wakil: a simple-minded man, full of integrity and good intentions, though no match for the Bohra in ability or intrigue. There was also the Dhabhai, or foster-brother of the late prince, who held the important office of kilahdar of Taragarh, and who, like all his class, is devotion personified. There was likewise Chandarbhan Naik, who, from a low condition, had risen to favour and power, and being quick, obedient, and faithful, was always held as a check over the Bohra. There were also two eunuchs of the palace, servants entirely confidential, and with a very good notion of the general affairs of the State.

Settlement of the Administration.

—Such were the materials at my disposal, and they were ample for all the concerns of this little State. Conformably to the will of the late prince, and the injunctions of the queen-mother, the Agent entirely reformed the functions of these officers, prohibited the revenues of the State from being confounded with the mercantile concerns of the minister, requiring them henceforth to be deposited at the Kishanbhandar, or treasury in the palace, providing a system of checks, as well on the receipts as the expenditure, and making all the four jointly and severally answerable; yet he made no material innovations, and displaced or displeased no one; though in raising those who were noted throughout the country for their integrity, he confirmed their good intentions and afforded them scope, while his measures were viewed with general satisfaction. After these arrangements, the greatest anxiety of the queen was for the absence of Balwant Rao; and, as it was in vain to argue against her fears, she requested that, when the ceremonies of installation were over, the chiefs might be dismissed to their estates, and that I would take the opportunity, at the next darbar, to point out to them the exact line of their duties, and the necessity of observance of the customs of past days: all of which was courteously done.

Interview of the Author with the Rāni.

—Although the festival of the Rakhi was not until the end of the month, the mother of the young prince sent me by the hands of the Bhatt, or family priest, the bracelet of adoption as her brother, which made my young ward henceforth my bhanja, or nephew. With this mark of regard, she also expressed, through the ministers, a wish that I would pay her a visit at the palace, as she had many points to discuss regarding [698] Lalji’s welfare, which could only be satisfactorily argued viva voce. Of course I assented; and, accompanied by the Bohra and the confidential eunuchs of the Rawala, I had a conversation of about three hours with my adopted sister; a curtain being between us. Her language was sensible and forcible, and she evinced a thorough knowledge of all the routine of government and the views of parties, which she described with great clearness and precision. She especially approved of the distribution of duties, and said, with these checks, and the deep interest I felt for all that concerned the honour of Bundi, her mind was quite at ease; nor had she anything left to desire. She added that she relied implicitly on my friendship for the deceased, whose regard for me was great. I took the liberty of adverting to many topics for her own guidance; counselling her to shun the error of communicating with or receiving reports from interested or ignorant advisers; and above all, to shun forming parties, and ruling, according to their usual policy, by divisions: I suggested that the object would be best attained by never intimating her wishes but when the four ministers were together; and urged her to exercise her own sound judgment, and banish all anxiety for her son’s welfare, by always recalling to mind what my government had done for the interests of Bundi. During a great part of this conversation, the Bohra had retired, so that her tongue was unrestrained. With itr-pan and her blessing (asis) sent by one of her damsels, she dismissed me with the oft-repeated remark, “Forget not that Lalji is now in your lap.”

I retired with my conductors, highly gratified with this interesting conversation, and impressed with respect for her capacity and views. This Rani, as I have elsewhere mentioned, is of the Rathor tribe, and of the house of Kishangarh in Marwar; she is the youngest of the late Rao Raja’s four widowed queens, but takes the chief rank, as mother and guardian of the minor prince.

I remained at Bundi till the middle of August; when, having given a right tone and direction to its government, I left it with the admonition that I should consider myself authorized, not as the Agent of government so much as the executor of their late lord’s wishes, and with the concurrent assent of the regent-queen, to watch over the prince’s welfare until the age of sixteen, when Rajput minority ceases; and advertised them, that they must not be surprised if I called upon them every year to inform me of the annual surplus revenue they had set aside for accumulation until his majority. I reminded the Bohra, in the words of his own beautiful metaphor, when, at the period of the treaty, my government restored its long-alienated lands [699], “again will our lakes overflow; once more will the lotus show its face on the waters.” Nor had he forgotten this emblematic phraseology, and with his coadjutors promised his most strenuous efforts. During the few remaining days of my stay, I had continual messages from the young prince, by the ‘Gold stick,’ or Dhabhai, which were invariably addressed to me as ‘the Mamu Sahib,’ or uncle. He sent me specimens of his handwriting, both in Devanagari and Persian, in which last, however, he had not got farther than the alphabet; and he used to ride and karauli[5] his horse within sight of my tents, and always expressed anxiety to know what the ‘Mamu’ thought of his horsemanship. I was soon after called upon by the queen-mother for my congratulations on Lalji having slain his first boar, an event that had summoned all the Haras to make their offerings; a ceremony which will recall a distinction received by the Macedonian youths, on a similar occasion, who were not admitted to public discussions until they had slain a wild boar.[6]

Whilst partaking in these national amusements, and affording all the political aid I could, my leisure time was employed in extracting from old chronicles or living records what might serve to develop the past history of the family; in frequent visits to the cenotaphs of the family, or other remarkable spots, and in dispersing my emissaries for inscriptions in every direction. This was the most singular part of my conduct to the Bundi court; they could not conceive why I should take an interest in such a pursuit.