CHAPTER 15

Basi, February 27.—Compelled to travel in my palki, full of aches and ails. I think this will complete the disorganization of my frame; but I must reserve the little strength I have for Chitor, and, coûte que coûte, climb up and take a farewell look.

Chitor.^[3]—My heart beat high as I approached the ancient capital of the Sesodias, teeming with reminiscences of glory, which every stone in her giant-like kunguras (battlements) attested. It was from this side that the imperial hosts under Ala and Akbar advanced to force the descendant of Rama to do homage to their power. How the summons was answered, the deeds of Ranas Arsi and Partap have already told. But there was one relic of “the last day” of Chitor, which I visited in this morning’s march, that will immortalize the field where the greatest monarch that India (perhaps Asia) ever had, erected the green banner of the faith, and pitched his [756] tent, around which his legions were marshalled for the reduction of the city. This still perfect monument is a fine pyramidal column, called by some the Chiraghdan, and by others Akbar-ka-dewa, both having the same meaning, ‘Akbar’s lamp.’^[4] It is formed of large blocks of compact lime-stone, admirably put together, about thirty-five feet high, each face being twelve feet at the base, and gradually tapering to the summit, where it is between three and four, and on which was placed a huge lamp (chiragh), that served as a beacon to the foragers, or denoted the imperial headquarters. An interior staircase leads to the top; but although I had the strongest desire to climb the steps, trodden no doubt by Akbar’s feet, the power was not obedient to the will, and I was obliged to continue my journey, passing through the Talaiti, as they term the lower town of Chitor. Here I got out of my palki, and ventured the ascent, not through one, but five gates, upon the same faithless elephant; but with this difference, that I had no howda to encase me and prevent my sliding off, if I found any impediment; nevertheless, in passing under each successive portal, I felt an involuntary tendency to stoop, though there was a superfluity of room over head. I hastened to my bechoba,^[5] pitched upon the margin of the Surya-kund, or ‘fountain of the sun,’ and with the wrecks of ages around me I abandoned myself to contemplation. I gazed until the sun’s last beam fell upon ‘the ringlet of Chitor,’ illuminating its grey and grief-worn aspect, like a lambent gleam lighting up the face of sorrow. Who could look on this lonely, this majestic column, which tells, in language more easy of interpretation than the tablets within, of

and withhold a sigh for its departed glories? But in vain I dipped my pen to embody my thoughts in language; for, wherever the eye fell, it filled the mind with images of the past, and ideas rushed too tumultuously to be recorded. In this mood I continued for some time, gazing listlessly, until the shades of evening gradually enshrouded the temples, columns, and palaces; and as I folded up my paper till the morrow, the words of the prophetic bard of Israel came forcibly to my recollection: “How doth the city sit solitary that was full of people! how is she become as a widow! she, that was great among nations, and princess among provinces, how is she become tributary!”

But not to fatigue the reader with reflections, I will endeavour to give him some [757] idea of these ruins.^[6] I begin with the description of Chitor from the Khuman Raesa, now beside me: “Chitrakot is the chief amongst eighty-four castles, renowned for strength; the hill on which it stands, rising out of the level plain beneath, the tilak on the forehead of Avani (the earth). It is within the grasp of no foe, nor can the vassals of its chief know the sentiment of fear. Ganga flows from its summit; and so intricate are its paths of ascent, that though you might find entrance, there would be no hope of return. Its towers of defence are planted on the rock, nor can their inmates even in sleep know alarm. Its Kothars (granaries) are well filled, and its reservoirs, fountains, and wells are overflowing. Ramachandra himself here dwelt twelve years. There are eighty-four bazars, many schools for children, and colleges for every kind of learning; many scribes (kayasth) of the Bidar^[7] tribe, and the eighteen varieties of artisans. (Here follows an enumeration of all the trees, shrubs, and flowers within and surrounding the fortress.) Of all, the Guhilot is sovereign (dhani), served by numerous troops, both horse and foot, and by all the ‘thirty-six tribes of Rajputs,’ of which he is the ornament (chhattis kula singar).”

The Khuman Raesa, or story of Rawat Khuman, was composed in the ninth century;^[8] and the poet has not exaggerated; for of all the royal abodes of India, none could compete with Chitor before she became a “widow.” But we must abandon the Raesa for a simple prose description. Chitor is situated on an isolated rock of the same formation as the Patar, whence it is distant about three miles, leaving a fertile valley between, in which are the estates of Bijaipur, Gwalior, and part of Begun, studded with groves, but all waste through long-continued oppression. The general direction of the rock is from S.S.W. to N.N.E.; the internal length on the summit being three miles and two furlongs, and the greatest central breadth twelve hundred yards. The circumference of the hill at its base, which is fringed with deep woods, extending to the summit, and in which lurk tigers, deer, hogs, and even lions, is somewhere above eight miles, and the angle of ascent to its scarped summit about 45°. The Talaiti, or lower town, is on the west side, which in some places presents a double scarp, and this side is crowded with splendid objects; the triumphal column, the palaces of Chitrang Mori, of Rana Raemall, the huge temple of Rana Mokal, the hundred pinnacles of the acropolis of the Guhilots, and last, not least, the mansions of Jaimall and Patta, built on a projecting point, are amongst the most remarkable monuments overlooking the plain. The great length of Chitor, and the uniformity of the level crest, detract from its height, which in no part exceeds [758] four hundred feet, and that only towards the north. In the centre of the eastern face, at ‘the gate of the sun’ (Surajpol), it is less than three hundred, and at the southern extremity, the rock is so narrow as to be embraced by an immense demi-lune commanding the hill called Chitori, not more than one hundred and fifty yards distant; it is connected with Chitor, but lower, and judiciously left out of its circumvallation. Still it is a weak point, of which the invader has availed himself. On this, Mahadaji Sindhia raised his batteries when called on by the Rana to expel his rebellious vassal of Salumbar (Vol. I. p. 517). The Mahratta’s batteries, as well as the zigzag lines of his ascent, indicate that, even in S. 1848 (A.D. 1792), he had the aid of no unskilful engineer. From this point the Tatar Ala stormed; and to him they attribute Chitor altogether, alleging that he raised it by artificial means, “commencing with a copper for every basket of earth, and at length ending with a piece of gold.” It would, indeed, have taken the twelve years, assigned by tradition to Ala’s siege, to have effected this, though there cannot be a doubt that he greatly augmented it, and planted there his Manjanikas,^[9] or balistas, in the same manner as he did to reduce the fortress of Rain, near Ranthambhor.

Having wandered for two or three days amongst the ruins, I commenced a regular plan of the whole, going to work trigonometrically, and laying down every temple or object that still retained a name or had any tradition attached to it. I then descended with the perambulator and made the circuit.

The first lateral cut of ascent is in a line due north, and before another angle you pass through three separate gates; between the last of which, distinctively called the Phuta Dwara, or ‘broken door,’ and the fourth, the Hanuman pol (porte), is a spot for ever sacred in the history of Chitor, where its immortal defenders, Jaimall and Patta, met their death. There is a small cenotaph to the memory of the former, while a sacrificial Jujhar, on which is sculptured the effigy of a warrior on horseback, lance in hand, reminds the Sesodia where fell the stripling chief of Amet. Near these is another cenotaph, a simple dome supported by light elegant columns, and covering an altar to the manes of the martyr Raghudeva, the deified putra of Mewar (see Vol. I. p. 325). After passing three more barriers, we reach the Rampol, which crowns the whole, and leads into a noble Dari-khana, or ‘hall of assembly,’ where the princes of Chitor met on grand occasions; and it was in this hall that the genius of Chitor is said to have revealed to Rana Arsi that his glory was departing. On a compartment of the Rampol we found an interdict inscribed by the rebel Bhim of [759] Salumbar, who appears to have been determined to place upon his own head the mor^[10] of Chitor, so nobly renounced by his ancestor Chonda many centuries before. This was, however, set up when he was yet loyal, and in his sovereign’s name as well as his own, “abolishing forced labour from the townspeople, and likewise dand, or contribution”; concluding with a grant of land to a patriotic carpenter of Gosunda, who had, at his own expense, furnished the Rampol with a new gate; the cow and hog are attesting witnesses to the deed. The next building I came to, as I skirted the western face in a southerly direction, was a small antique temple to Tulja Bhavani,^[11] the divinity of the scribes, adjoining the Top-khana Chaori, a square for the park, where a few old cannon, the relics of the plunder of Chitor, still remain. The habitation of the Purohits, or chief priests of the Ranas, a plain, commodious, and substantial edifice, was the next; and close by was that of the Masani,^[12] or master of the horse, with several others of the chief household officers. But the first imposing edifice is that termed Naulakha Bhandar. This is a small citadel in itself, with massive, lofty walls, and towers built entirely of ancient ruins. Its name would import that it was a receptacle (bhandar) for treasure, though it is said to have been the residence of the usurper Banbir. At the north-eastern corner, it has a little temple, richly sculptured, called the Singar Chaori.^[13] From this we pass on to the palace of the Ranas, which, though attributed to Rana Raemall, is of the same character as those of a much higher antiquity. It is plain, capacious, and in excellent taste, the only ornament being its crenated battlements, and gives a good idea of the domestic architecture of the Rajputs, long anterior to the intrusion of the Islamite amongst them. The vaulted chamber, the projecting gaukh or balcony, and the gentle exterior slope or talus of the walls, lend a character of originality to all the ancient structures of Chitor. The industrious Ghasi made sketches for me of all their domestic dwellings, from the ancient abode of Chitrang Mori, down to the mahalls of Jaimall and Patta. A courtyard surrounds the palace, in which there is a small temple to Deoji, through whose interposition Rana Sanga effected all his conquests. This unknown divinity I find is styled one of the eleven kalas, or Mahavidyas, incarnate in the person of a celebrated warrior, named Bhoj, whose father was a Chauhan, and his mother of the Gujar tribe, which originated a new class, called the Bagrawat.^[14] The story of this Deo will add another to the many tales of superstition which are listened to with reverence, and I imagine generally with belief. The incarnate Bagrawat, while on his way to revenge an ancient feud with the Parihars of Ranbinai [760], approached Chitor, and Rana Sanga, aware of his sanctity, paid him all the dues of hospitality; in return for this, the Deoji bestowed a charm upon Sanga, by means of which, so long as he followed the prescribed injunctions, victory was always to attend his steps. It was placed in a small bag, and to be worn round the neck; but he was warned against allowing it to turn towards the back. The Deo had the power of raising the dead, and in order to show the Rana the value of the gift, he put into his hand a peacock’s feather, with which having touched all who were then lying dead in Chitor, they were restored to life! With this new proof of Deoji’s power, Rana Sanga went forth to pursue his conquests, which had extended to the fortress of Bayana, when one day, while bathing in the Pila Khal,^[15] the charm slipped round, and straight a voice was heard, saying, his “mortal foe was at hand!” So impressed are the Sesodias with the truth of this tale, that Deoji has obtained a distinguished niche in their Pantheon; nor in all their poverty has oil been wanting for the lamp which is constantly burning before the Bagrawat chieftain, whose effigy, on a horse painted blue and lance in hand, still attracts their homage. To buy golden opinions, I placed three pieces of silver on the altar of the saint, in the name of the brave Sanga, the worthy antagonist of Babur, the “immortal foe,” who at the Pila Khal at Bayana destroyed the charm of the Deoji.

Both these temples are entirely constructed from the wrecks of more ancient shrines, said to have been brought from the ruins of a city of remote antiquity, called Nagari, three coss northward of Chitor.^[18] Near these temples of Kumbh-Syam are two reservoirs, built of large blocks, each one hundred and twenty-five feet long by fifty [761] wide, and fifty deep, said to have been excavated on the marriage of the ‘Ruby of Mewar’ to Achal Khichi of Gagraun, and filled with oil and ghi, which were served out to the numerous attendants on that occasion.

The Pillar of Victory, or Kīrtti-Khambh. —We are now in the vicinity of the Kirtti-Khambh, the pillar erected by Rana Kumbha on his defeat of the combined armies of Malwa and Gujarat.^[19] The only thing in India to compare with this is the Kutb Minar at Delhi; but, though much higher, it is of a very inferior character. This column is one hundred and twenty-two feet in height, the breadth of each face at the base is thirty-five feet, and at the summit, immediately under the cupola, seventeen feet and a half. It stands on an ample terrace, forty-two feet square. It has nine distinct stories, with openings at every face of each story, and all these doors have colonnaded porticos; but it is impossible to describe it, and therefore a rough outline, which will show Ghasi’s notions of perspective, must suffice. It is built chiefly of compact limestone and the quartz rock on which it stands, which takes the highest polish; indeed there are portions possessing the hardness and exhibiting the fracture of jasper. It is one mass of sculpture; of which a better idea cannot be conveyed than in the remark of those who dwell about it, that it contains every object known to their mythology. The ninth khand, or ‘story,’ which, as I have stated, is seventeen feet and a half square, has numerous columns supporting a vault, in which is sculptured Kanhaiya in the Rasmandala (celestial sphere), surrounded by the Gopis or muses, each holding a musical instrument, and in a dancing attitude.^[20] Beneath this is a richly carved scroll fringed with the saras, the phenicopteros^[21] of ornithology. Around this chamber had been arranged, on black marble tablets, the whole genealogy of the Ranas of Chitor; but the Goths have broken or defaced all, save one slab, containing the two following slokas.

Sloka 172: “Shaking the earth, the lords of Gujarkhand and Malwa, both the sultans, with armies overwhelming as the ocean, invaded Medpat. Kumbhakaran reflected lustre on the land; to what point can we exalt his renown? In the midst of the armies of his foe, Kumbha was as a tiger, or as a flame in a dry forest.”

Sloka 183: “While the sun continues to warm the earth, so long may the fame of Kumbha Rana endure. While the icy mountains (Himagiri) of the north rest upon their base, or so long as Himachal is stationary, while ocean continues to form a garland round the neck of Avani (the earth), so long may Kumbha’s glory be perpetuated! May the varied history of his sway and the splendour of his dominion last [762] for ever! Seven years had elapsed beyond fifteen hundred when Rana Kumbha placed this ringlet on the forehead of Chitor. Sparkling like the rays of the rising sun, is the toran, rising like the bridegroom of the land.

“In S. 1515, the temple of Brahma was founded, and this year, Vrihaspatiwar (Thursday), the 10th tithi and Pushya Nakshatra, in the month of Magh, on the immovable Chitrakot, this Kirtti stambha was finished. What does it resemble, which makes Chitor look down on Meru with derision? Again, what does Chitrakot resemble, from whose summit the fountains are ever flowing, the circular diadem on whose crest is beauteous to the eye; abounding in temples to the Almighty, planted with odoriferous trees, to which myriads of bees resort, and where soft zephyrs love to play? This immovable fortress (Achal-durga) was formed by Maha-Indra’s own hands.”

How many more Slokas there may have been, of which this is the 183rd, we can only conjecture; though this would seem to be the winding-up.

The view from this elevated spot was superb, extending far into the plains of Malwa. The lightning struck and injured the dome some years ago, but generally there is no semblance of decay, though some shoots of the pipal have rooted themselves where the bolt of Indra fell. It is said to have cost ninety lakhs of rupees, or near a million sterling; and this is only one of the many magnificent works of Rana Kumbha within Chitor; the temples to Krishna, the lake called Kurma Sagar, the temple and fountain to Kukkureswar Mahadeo, having been erected by him. He also raised the stupendous fortifications of Kumbhalmer, to which place the seat of government was transferred. It is asserted that the immense wealth in jewels appertaining to the princes of Gujarat, was captured by Mahmud Begada, when he took Kumbhalmer, whence he carried forty thousand captives.^[22]

Near this is the grand temple of Brahma, erected also by Kumbha, in honour of his father Mokal, whose name it bears, and whose bust is the only object of veneration within.^[23] It would seem as if Kumbha had been a deist, worshipping the Creator alone; though his inspired wife, Mira Bai, seems to have drawn a portion of his regard to Muralidhar, ‘he who holds the flute.’ Adjoining the shrine of the great spirit, is the Charbagh, where the ashes of the heroes, from Bappa down to the founder of Udaipur, are entombed. Many possessed great external interest; but I was forced to be content with what I saw, for the chronicler is dead.

Still ascending, I visited the edifices named after Jaimall and Patta, and the shrine of Kalika Devi, esteemed one of the most ancient of Chitor, existing since the time of the Mori, the dynasty prior to the Guhilot.^[24] But the only inscription I discovered was the following:—

“S. 1574 Magh (sudi) 5th, and Revati Nakshatra, the stone-cutters Kalu, Kaimer, and thirty-six others (whose names are added), enlarged the fountain of the sun (Suryakunda), adjacent to the temple of Kalika Devi.” Thence I passed to the vaulted cenotaph of Chonda, the founder of the Chondawats, who surrendered his birthright to please his aged sire. A little further, are the mahalls of Rana Bhim and Padmini. Beyond this, within a stone enclosure, is the place where the victorious Kumbha confined the king of Malwa; and touching it is the mahall of the Raos of Rampura.

Further south is a spot of deep interest: the tank and palace of Chitrang Mori,^[25] the ancient Puar lord of Chitor, whose inscription I have already given. The interior sides of the tank are divided into sculptured compartments, in very good taste, but not to be compared with the works at Barolli, though doubtless executed under the same family. Being now within two hundred yards of the southern bastion, I returned by the mahalls of the once vassals of Chitor, namely, Sirohi, Bundi, Sunth,^[26] Lunawada, to the Chaugan, or ‘field of Mars,’ where the military festival of the Dasahra is yet held by the slender garrison of Chitor. Close to it is a noble reservoir of a hundred and thirty feet in length, sixty-five in width, and forty-seven in depth. It is lined with immense sculptured masses of masonry, and filled with water.

I found also another old inscription near the very antique temple of Kukkureswar Mahadeo; “S. 811, Mah sudi 5th, Vrihaspativar (Thursday), A.D. 755, Raja Kukkureswar erected this temple and excavated the fountain.”

There are many Jain inscriptions, but amidst the heaps of ruins I was not fortunate enough to make any important discovery. One in the temple of Santnath was as follows; “S. 1505 (A.D. 1449), Sri Maharana Mokal, whose son Kumbhakaran’s treasurer, by name Sah Kola, his son Bhandari Ratna, and wife Bilandevi, erected this shrine to Santnath. The chief of the Khadatara Gachchha, Janraj Sur and apparent successor, Sri Jan Chandra Surji, made this writing.”

Close to the Suraj-pol, or gate in the centre of the eastern face, is an altar sacred to the manes of Sahidas, the chief of the Chondawats, who fell at his post, the gate of the sun, when the city was sacked by Bahadur Shah.

At the north-western face is a castle complete within itself, the walls and towers of which are of a peculiar form, and denote a high antiquity. This is said to be the ancient palace of the Moris and the first Ranas of Chitor. But it is time to close this description, which I do by observing, that one cannot move a step without treading on some fragment of the olden times:

Udaipur, March 8, 1822.—Here I am once more in the capital of Hindupati (chief of the Hindu race), from which no occurrence shall move me until I go to “eat the air” of my native land. I require repose, for the last fifteen years of my life have been one continuous tissue of toil and accident, such as are narrated in these records of a few of my many wanderings. The bow must be unbent, or it will snap, and the time for journalizing must cease with everything else under the sun. I halted a few days at Merta, and found my house nearly finished, the garden looking beautiful, the aru or peach-tree, the seo or apple, the santara,^[28] narangi, and nimbu, or various orange and lime-trees, all in full blossom, and showing the potent influence of Surya, in these regions; the sharifa or sitaphal (fruit of Sita), or custard-apple, the anar, the kela, pomegranate, plantain, and various indigenous fruits, were all equally forward. These plants are mostly from Agra, Lucknow, or Cawnpore; but some of the finest peaches are the produce of those I planted at Gwalior,—I may say their grandchildren. When I left Gwalior in 1817, I brought with me the stones of several peach-trees, and planted them in the garden of Rang-piyari, my residence at Udaipur; and more delicious or more abundant fruit I never saw. The stones of these I again put in the new garden at Merta, and these again exhibit fruit, but it will require another year to prove whether they maintain the character they held in the plains of Raru, or in this city. The vegetables were equally thriving: I never saw finer crops of Prussian-blues,^[29] of kobis, phul-kobis, or cabbages and cauliflowers, celery, and all that belongs to the kitchen-garden, and which my Rajput friends declare far superior to their indigenous race of sag, or greens; the Diwanji (Rana) has monopolized the celery, which he pronounces the prince of vegetables. I had also got my cutter for the Udaisagar, and we promised ourselves many delightful days, sailing amidst its islets and fishing in its stream. “But in all this was there vanity”: poor Carey lies under the sod; Duncan has been struggling on, and is just about to depart for the Cape of Good Hope; Patrick, who was left at Kotah, writes me dismal accounts of his health and his solitude, and I am left almost alone, the ghost of what I was. “I looked on all the works that my hands had wrought, and on the labour I had laboured to do; and behold all was vanity and vexation of spirit!” And such I fear will it prove with more important works than these amusements of the hour; but it were certain death to stay, and the doctor insists on my sending in ‘a sick certificate,’ and putting my house in order for [766] departure. The month of May is fixed, a resolution which has filled the Rana with grief; but he “gives me leave only for three years, and his sister, Chandji Bai, desires me to bring back a wife that she may love.”

I would willingly have dispensed with the honours of a public entrée; but here, even health must bend to forms and the laws of the Rajputs; and the Rana, Prince Jawan Singh, and all the Sesodia chivalry, advanced to welcome our return. “Ap ghar aye! You have come home!” was the simple and heartfelt expression of the Rana, as he received my reverential salaam; but he kindly looked round, and missed my companions, for Waugh Sahib and Doctor Sahib were both great favourites; and, last but not least, when he saw me bestride Javadia, he asked, “where was Bajraj?” but the ‘royal-steed’ (his gift) was no more, and lies entombed at Kotah. “Hae! hae! alas! alas! (exclaimed Prithinath); bara sochpan balamanukh cha, great grief, for he was a good man.”^[30] The virtues of Bajraj were the subject of conversation until we reached the ‘gate of the sun’ (Surajpol); when the Rana “gave me leave to go home,” and he continued his promenade.