CHAPTER 4

=Mahārāo Ummed Singh, A.D. 1743-1804.=—Ummeda was but thirteen years of age on the death of his house’s foe, the Raja of Amber, in S. 1800 (A.D. 1744). As soon as the event was known to him, putting himself at the head of his clansmen, he attacked and carried Patan and Gainoli.[10.4.1] “When it was heard that the son of Budh Singh was awake, the ancient Haras flocked to his standard,” and Durjansal of Kotah, rejoicing to see the real Hara blood thus displayed, nobly sent his aid.

=Jaipur attacks Kotah.=—Isari Singh, who was now lord of Amber, pursuing his father’s policy, determined that Kotah should bend to his supremacy as well as the elder branch of Bundi. The defiance of his power avowed in the support of young Ummeda brought his views into [488] action, and Kotah was invested. But the result does not belong to this part of our history. On the retreat from Kotah, Isari sent a body of Nanakpanthis[10.4.2] to attack Ummeda in his retreat at Burh (old) Lohari, amongst the Minas, the aboriginal lords of these mountain-wilds, who had often served the cause of the Haras, notwithstanding they had deprived them of their birthright. The youthful valour and distress of young Ummeda so gained their hearts, that five thousand bowmen assembled and desired to be led against his enemies. With these auxiliaries, he anticipated his foes at Bichori, and while the nimble mountaineers plundered the camp, Ummeda charged the Jaipur army sword in hand, and slaughtered them without mercy, taking their kettledrums and standards. On the news of this defeat, another army of eighteen thousand men, under Narayandas Khatri, was sent against Ummeda. But the affair of Bichori confirmed the dispositions of the Haras: from all quarters they flocked to the standard of the young prince, who determined to risk everything in a general engagement. The foe had reached Dablana.[10.4.3] On the eve of attack, young Ummeda went to propitiate ‘the lady of Situn,’[10.4.4] the tutelary divinity of his race; and as he knelt before the altar of Asapurna (the fulfiller of hope), his eyes falling upon the turrets of Bundi, then held by a traitor, he swore to conquer or die.

=Battle of Dablāna.=—Inspired with like sentiments, his brave clansmen formed around the orange flag, the gift of Jahangir to Rao Ratan; and as they cleared the pass leading to Dablana, the foe was discovered marshalled to receive them. In one of those compact masses, termed _gol_, with serried lances advanced, Ummeda led his Haras to the charge. Its physical and moral impression was irresistible; and a vista was cut through the dense host opposed to them. Again they formed; and again, in spite of the showers of cannon-shot, the sword renewed its blows; but every charge was fatal to the bravest of Ummeda’s men. In the first onset fell his maternal uncle, Prithi Singh, Solanki, with the Maharaja Marjad Singh of Motra, a valiant Hara, who fell just as he launched his _chakra_ (discus) at the head of the Khatri commander of Amber. Prayag Singh, chief of Soran, a branch of the Thana fief, was also slain, with many of inferior note. The steed of Ummeda was struck by a cannon-ball, and the intestines protruded from the wound. The intrepidity of the youthful hero, nobly seconded by his kin and clan, was unavailing; and the chieftains, fearing he would throw away a life the preservation of which they all desired, entreated he would abandon the contest; observing, “that if he survived, Bundi must be theirs; but if he was slain, there was an end of all their hopes [489].”

With grief he submitted; and as they gained the Sawali Pass, which leads to Indargarh, he dismounted to breathe his faithful steed; and as he loosened the girths, it expired. Ummeda sat down and wept. Hanja was worthy of such a mark of his esteem: he was a steed of Irak, the gift of the king to his father, whom he had borne in many an encounter. Nor was this natural ebullition of the young Hara a transient feeling: Hanja’s memory was held in veneration, and the first act of Ummeda, when he recovered his throne, was to erect a statue to the steed who bore him so nobly on the day of Dablana. It stands in the square (_chauk_) of the city, and receives the reverence of each Hara, who links his history with one of the brightest of their achievements, though obscured by momentary defeat.[10.4.5]

Ummeda gained Indargarh, which was close at hand, on foot; but this traitor to the name of Hara, who had acknowledged the supremacy of Amber, not only refused his prince a horse in his adversity, but warned him off the domain, asking “if he meant to be the ruin of Indargarh as well as Bundi?” Disdaining to drink water within its bounds, the young prince, stung by this perfidious mark of inhospitality, took the direction of Karwain. Its chief made amends for the other’s churlishness: he advanced to meet him, offered such aid as he had to give, and presented him with a horse. Dismissing his faithful kinsmen to their homes, and begging their swords when fortune might be kinder, he regained his old retreat, the ruined palace of Rampura, amongst the ravines of the Chambal.

=Būndi recovered by Ummed Singh.=—Durjansal of Kotah, who had so bravely defended his capital against the pretensions to supremacy of Isari Singh and his auxiliary, Apa Sindhia, felt more interest than ever in the cause of Ummeda. The Kotah prince’s councils were governed and his armies led by a Bhat (bard), who, it may be inferred, was professionally inspired by the heroism of the young Hara to lend his sword as well as his muse towards reinstating him in the halls of his fathers. Accordingly, all the strength of Kotah, led by the Bhat, was added to the kinsmen and friends of Ummeda; and an attempt on Bundi was resolved. The city, whose walls were in a state of dilapidation from this continual warfare, was taken without difficulty; and the assault of the citadel of Taragarh had commenced, when the heroic Bhat received a fatal shot from a treacherous hand in his own party. His death was concealed, and a cloth thrown [490] over his body. The assailants pressed on; the usurper, alarmed, took to flight; the ‘lion’s hope’[10.4.6] was fulfilled, and Ummeda was seated on the throne of his fathers.

=Būndi occupied by Jaipur.=—Dalil fled to his suzerain at Amber, whose disposable forces, under the famous Khatri Keshodas, were immediately put in motion to re-expel the Hara. Bundi was invested, and having had no time given to prepare for defence, Ummeda was compelled to abandon the walls so nobly won, and “the flag of Dhundhar waved over the _kunguras_ (battlements) of Dewa-Banga.” And let the redeeming virtue of the usurper be recorded; who, when his suzerain of Amber desired to reinstate him on the _gaddi_, refused “to bring a second time the stain of treason on his head, by which he had been disgraced in the opinion of mankind.”

=Ummed Singh in Exile.=—Ummeda, once more a wanderer, alternately courting the aid of Mewar and Marwar, never suspended his hostility to the usurper of his rights, but carried his incursions, without intermission, into his paternal domains. One of these led him to the village of Banodia: hither the Kachhwaha Rani, the widowed queen of his father, and the cause of all their miseries, had retired, disgusted with herself and the world, and lamenting, when too late, the ruin she had brought upon her husband, herself, and the family she had entered. Ummeda paid her a visit, and the interview added fresh pangs to her self-reproach. His sufferings, his heroism, brightened by adversity, originating with her nefarious desire to stifle his claims of primogeniture by a spurious adoption, awakened sentiments of remorse, of sympathy, and sorrow. Determined to make some amends, she adopted the resolution of going to the Deccan, to solicit aid for the son of Budh Singh. When she arrived on the banks of the Nerbudda a pillar was pointed out to her on which was inscribed a prohibition to any of her race to cross this stream, which like the Indus was also styled _atak_, or ‘forbidden.’[10.4.7] Like a true Rajputni, she broke the tablet in pieces, and threw it into the stream, observing with a jesuitical casuistry, that there was no longer any impediment when no ordinance existed. Having passed the Rubicon, she proceeded forthwith to the camp of Malhar Rao Holkar. The sister of Jai Singh, the most potent Hindu prince of India, became a suppliant to this goatherd leader[10.4.8] of a horde of plunderers, nay, adopted him as her brother to effect the redemption of Bundi for the exiled Ummeda.

=Malhār Rāo Holkar assists Ummed Singh.=—Malhar, without the accident of noble birth, possessed the sentiments which belong to it, and he promised all she asked. How far his compliance might be promoted by [491] another call for his lance from the Rana of Mewar, in virtue of the marriage-settlement which promised the succession of Amber to a princess of his house, the Bundi records do not tell: they refer only to the prospects of its own prince. But we may, without any reflection on the gallantry of Holkar, express a doubt how far he would have lent the aid of his horde to this sole object, had he not had in view the splendid bribe of sixty-four lakhs from the Rana, to be paid when Isari Singh should be removed, for his nephew Madho Singh.[10.4.9]

Be this as it may, the Bundi chronicle states that the lady, instead of the temporary expedient of delivering Bundi, conducted the march of the Mahrattas direct on Jaipur. Circumstances favoured her designs. The character of Isari Singh had raised up enemies about his person, who seized the occasion to forward at once the views of Bundi and Mewar, whose princes had secretly gained them over to their views.

The Amber prince no sooner heard of the approach of the Mahrattas to his capital than he quitted it to offer them battle. But their strength had been misrepresented, nor was it till he reached the castle of Bagru[10.4.10] that he was undeceived and surrounded. When too late, he saw that ‘treason had done its worst,’ and that the confidence he had placed in the successor of a minister whom he had murdered, met its natural reward. The bard has transmitted in a sloka the cause of his overthrow:

_Jabhī chhodī Īsra Rāj karan kī ās, Mantrī moto māriyo Khatri Kesodās,_

‘Isari forfeited all hopes of regality, when he slew that great minister Keshodas.’

=Jaipur forced to restore Ummed Singh.=—The sons of this minister, named Harsahai and Gursahai, betrayed their prince to the ‘Southron,’ by a false return of their numbers, and led him to the attack with means totally inadequate. Resistance to a vast numerical superiority would have been madness: he retreated to the castle of this fief of Amber, where, after a siege of ten days, he was forced not only to sign a deed for the surrender of Bundi, and the renunciation of all claims to it for himself and his descendants, but to put, in full acknowledgment of his rights, the _tika_ on the forehead of Ummeda. With this deed, and accompanied by the contingent of Kotah, they proceeded to Bundi; the traitor was expelled; and while rejoicings were making to celebrate the installation of Ummeda, the funereal pyre was lighted at Amber, to consume the mortal remains of his foe. Raja Isari could [492] not survive his disgrace, and terminated his existence and hostility by poison, thereby facilitating the designs both of Bundi and Mewar.

Thus in S. 1805 (A.D. 1749) Ummeda regained his patrimony, after fourteen years of exile, during which a traitor had pressed the royal ‘cushion’ of Bundi. But this contest deprived it of many of its ornaments, and, combined with other causes, at length reduced it almost to its intrinsic worth, ‘a heap of cotton.’ Malhar Rao, the founder of the Holkar State, in virtue of his adoption as the brother of the widow-queen of Budh Singh, had the title of Mamu, or uncle, to young Ummeda. But true to the maxims of his race, he did not take his buckler to protect the oppressed, at the impulse of those chivalrous notions so familiar to the Rajput, but deemed a portion of the Bundi territory a better incentive, and a more unequivocal proof of gratitude, than the titles of brother and uncle. Accordingly, he demanded, and obtained by regular deed of surrender, the town and district of Patan on the left bank of the Chambal.[10.4.11]

The sole equivalent (if such it could be termed) for these fourteen years of usurpation, were the fortifications covering the palace and town, now called Taragarh (the ‘Star-fort’), built by Dalil Singh. Madho Singh, who succeeded to the _gaddi_ of Jaipur, followed up the designs commenced by Jai Singh, and which had cost his successor his life, to render the smaller States of Central India dependent on Amber. For this Kotah had been besieged, and Ummeda expelled, and as such policy could not be effected by their unassisted means, it only tended to the benefit of the auxiliaries, who soon became principals, to the prejudice and detriment of all. Madho Singh, having obtained the castle of Ranthambhor, a pretext was afforded for these pretensions to supremacy. From the time of its surrender by Rao Surjan to Akbar, the importance of this castle was established by its becoming the first Sarkar, or ‘department,’ in the province of Ajmer, consisting of no less than ‘seventy-three mahals,’[10.4.12] or extensive fiefs, in which were comprehended not only Bundi and Kotah, and all their dependencies, but the entire State of Sheopur, and all the petty fiefs south of the Banganga, the aggregate of which now constitutes the State of Amber. In fact, with the exception of Mahmudabad in Bengal,[10.4.13] Ranthambhor was the most extensive Sarkar of the empire. In the decrepitude of the empire, this castle was maintained by a veteran commander [493] as long as funds and provisions lasted; but these failing, in order to secure it from falling into the hands of the Mahrattas, and thus being lost for ever to the throne, he sought out a Rajput prince, to whom he might entrust it. He applied to Bundi; but the Hara, dreading to compromise his fealty if unable to maintain it, refused the boon; and having no alternative, he resigned it to the prince of Amber as a trust which he could no longer defend.

Out of this circumstance alone originated the claims of Jaipur to tribute from the Kothris, or fiefs in Haraoti; claims without a shadow of justice; but the maintenance of which, for the sake of the display of supremacy and paltry annual relief, has nourished half a century of irritation, which it is high time should cease.[10.4.14]

=Zālim Singh of Kotah.=—It was the assertion of this supremacy over Kotah as well as Bundi which first brought into notice the most celebrated Rajput of modern times, Zalim Singh of Kotah. Rao Durjansal, who then ruled that State, had too much of the Hara blood to endure such pretensions as the casual possession of Ranthambhor conferred upon his brother prince of Amber, who considered that, as the late lieutenant of the king, he had a right to transfer his powers to himself. The battle of Bhatwara, in S. 1817 (A.D. 1761), for ever extinguished these pretensions, on which occasion Zalim Singh, then scarcely of age, mainly contributed to secure the independence of the State he was ultimately destined to govern. But this exploit belongs to the annals of Kotah, and would not have been here alluded to, except to remark, that had the Bundi army joined Kotah in this common cause, they would have redeemed its fiefs from the tribute they are still compelled to pay to Jaipur.

Ummeda’s active mind was engrossed with the restoration of the prosperity which the unexampled vicissitudes of the last fifteen years had undermined; but he felt his spirit cramped and his energies contracted by the dominant influence and avarice of the insatiable Mahrattas, through whose means he recovered his capital; still there was as yet no fixed principle of government recognized, and the Rajputs, who [494] witnessed their periodical visitations like flights of locusts over their plains, hoped that this scourge would be equally transitory. Under this great and pernicious error, all the Rajput States continued to mix these interlopers in their national disputes, which none had more cause to repent than the Haras of Bundi. But the hold which the Mahrattas retained upon the lands of ‘Dewa Banga’ would never have acquired such tenacity, had the bold arm and sage mind of Ummeda continued to guide the vessel of the State throughout the lengthened period of his natural existence: his premature political decease adds another example to the truth, that patriarchal, and indeed all governments are imperfect where the laws are not supreme.

=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.[10.4.15] 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,[10.4.16] 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_,[10.4.17] and the twelve days of _matam_, or ‘mourning,’ were passed as if Ummeda had really deceased;[10.4.18] 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,’[10.4.19] 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

The fruit and flower of many a province,

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;[10.4.20] and from the hot-wells of Sita in Arakan,[10.4.21] and the Moloch of Orissa,[10.4.22] to the shrine of the Hindu Apollo at ‘the world’s end.’[10.4.23] 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.[10.4.24] As he returned by Dwarka he was beset by a band of Kabas,[10.4.25] 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,[10.4.27] 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_[10.4.28] (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.[10.4.29] 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.[10.4.30] 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].[10.4.31]

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.[10.4.32] 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[10.4.33] 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].

KOTAH