Chapter 23 (1)

=The Character of the Rājput. Influence of Custom.=—The manners of a nation constitute the most interesting portion of its history, but a thorough knowledge of them must be the fruit of long and attentive observation: an axiom which applies to a people even less inaccessible than the Rajputs. The importance and necessity of such an illustration of the Rajput character, in a work like the present, call for and sanction the attempt, however inadequate the means. Of what value to mankind would be the interminable narrative of battles, were their moral causes and results passed by unheeded? Although both the Persian and Hindu annalists not unfrequently unite the characters of moralist and historian, it is in a manner unsuitable to the subject, according to the more refined taste of Europe. In the poetic annals of the Rajput, we see him check his war-chariot, and when he should be levelling his javelin, commence a discourse upon ethics; or when the battle is over, the Nestor or Ulysses of the host converts his tent into a lyceum, and delivers lectures on morals or manners. But the reflections which should follow, and form the corollary to each action, are never given; and even if they were, though we might comprehend the moral movements of a nation, we should still be unable to catch the minute shades of character that complete the picture of domestic life, and which are to be collected from those familiar sentiments uttered in social intercourse, when the mind unbends and nature throws aside the trammels of education and of ceremony. Such a picture would represent the manners, which are continually undergoing modifications, in contradistinction to the morals of society; the latter, having a fixed creed for their basis, are definite and unchangeable. The _chal_ of the Rajput, like the _mores_ of the Romans, or _costumi_ of modern Italy, is significant alike of mental and external habit. In the moral point of view it is the path chalked out for him by the sages of antiquity [608]; in the personal, it is that which custom has rendered immutable. _Kaisi buri chal men chalta_, ‘in what a bad path does he march!’ says the moralist: _Bap, Dada ki chal chhori_, ‘he abandons the usages of his ancestors,’ says the stickler for custom, in Rajasthan.[4.23.1]

=Rājput Morals.=—The grand features of morality are few, and nearly the same in every nation not positively barbarous. The principles contained in the Decalogue form the basis of every code—of Manu and of Muhammad, as well as of Moses. These are grand landmarks of the truth of divine history; and are confirmed by the less important traits of personal customs and religious rites, which nations the most remote from each other continue to hold in common. The Koran we know to have been founded on the Mosaic law; the Sastra of Manu, unconsciously, approaches still more to the Jewish Scriptures in spirit and intention; and from its pages might be formed a manual of moral instruction, which, if followed by the disciples of the framer, might put more favoured societies to the blush.

=Variety of Customs due to Environment.=—As it has been observed in a former part of this work, the same religion governing all must tend to produce a certain degree of mental uniformity. The shades of moral distinction which separate these races are almost imperceptible: while you cannot pass any grand natural barrier without having the dissimilarity of customs and manners forced upon your observation. Whoever passes from upland Mewar, the country of the Sesodias, into the sandy flats of Marwar, the abode of the Rathors, would feel the force of this remark. Innovations proceeding from external causes, such as conquest by irreligious foes, and the birth of new sects and schisms, operate important changes in manners and customs. We can only pretend, however, to describe facts which are obvious, and those which history discloses, whence some notions may be formed of the prevailing traits of character in the Rajput; his ideas of virtue and vice, the social intercourse and familiar courtesies of Rajasthan, and their recreations, public and private.

“The manners of a people,” says the celebrated Goguet, “always bear a proportion to the progress they have made in the arts and sciences.” If by this test we trace the analogy between past and existing manners amongst the Rajputs, we must conclude at once that they have undergone a decided deterioration. Where can we look for sages like those whose systems of philosophy were the [609] prototypes of those of Greece: to whose works Plato, Thales, and Pythagoras were disciples? Where shall we find the astronomers, whose knowledge of the planetary system yet excites wonder in Europe, as well as the architects and sculptors, whose works claim our admiration, and the musicians, “who could make the mind oscillate from joy to sorrow, from tears to smiles, with the change of modes and varied intonation.”[4.23.2] The manners of those days must have corresponded with this advanced stage of refinement, as they must have suffered from its decline: yet the homage paid by Asiatics to precedent has preserved many relics of ancient customs, which have survived the causes that produced them.

A RAJPOOTNI,
Returned from Batlang in the Jumna.
]

PORTRAITS OF A RĀJPUTNI, A RĀJPUT, A MEWĀTI AND GUSĀĪN. _To face page 708._

=Treatment of Women by the Rājputs.=—It is universally admitted that there is no better criterion of the refinement of a nation than the condition Of the fair sex therein. As it is elegantly expressed by Comte Ségur, “Leur sort est une boussole sûre pour le premier regard d’un étranger qui arrive dans un pays inconnu.”[4.23.3] Unfortunately, the habitual seclusion of the higher classes of females in the East contracts the sphere of observation in regard to their influence on society; but, to borrow again from our ingenious author, “les hommes font les lois, les femmes font les mœurs”; and their incarceration in Rajasthan by no means lessens the application of the adage to that country. Like the magnetic power, however latent, their attraction is not the less certain. “C’est aux hommes à faire des grandes choses, c’est aux femmes à les inspirer,” is a maxim to which every Rajput cavalier would subscribe, with whom the age of chivalry is not fled, though ages of oppression have passed over him. He knows there is no retreat into which the report of a gallant action will not penetrate, and set fair hearts in motion to be the object of his search. The bards, those chroniclers of fame, like the Jongleurs of old, have everywhere access, to the palace as to the hamlet; and a brilliant exploit travels with all the rapidity of a comet, and clothed with the splendid decorations of poetry, from the Indian desert to the valley of the Jumna. If we cannot paint the Rajput dame as invested with all the privileges which Ségur assigns to the first woman, “compagne de l’homme et son égale, vivant par lui, pour lui, associée à son bonheur, à ses plaisirs, à la puissance qu’il exerçait sur ce vaste univers,” she is far removed from the condition which demands commiseration [610].

=The Seclusion of Women.=—Like the ancient German or Scandinavian, the Rajput consults her in every transaction; from her ordinary actions he draws the omen of success, and he appends to her name the epithet of _devi_, or ‘godlike.’ The superficial observer, who applies his own standard to the customs of all nations, laments with an affected philanthropy the degraded condition of the Hindu female, in which sentiment he would find her little disposed to join. He particularly laments her want of liberty, and calls her seclusion imprisonment. Although I cordially unite with Ségur, who is at issue with his compatriot Montesquieu on this part of discipline, yet from the knowledge I do possess of the freedom, the respect, the happiness, which Rajput women enjoy, I am by no means inclined to deplore their state as one of captivity. The author of the _Spirit of Laws_, with the views of a closet philosopher, deems seclusion necessary from the irresistible influence of climate on the passions; while the chivalrous Ségur, with more knowledge of human nature, draws the very opposite conclusion, asserting all restraints to be injurious to morals. Of one thing we are certain, seclusion of females could only originate in a moderately advanced stage of civilization. Amongst hunters, pastors, and cultivators, the women were required to aid in all external pursuits, as well as internal economy. The Jews secluded not their women, and the well, where they assembled to draw water, was the place where marriages were contracted, as with the lower classes in Rajputana. The inundations of the Nile, each house of whose fertile valleys was isolated, is said to have created habits of secluding women with the Egyptians; and this argument might apply to the vast valleys of the Indus and Ganges first inhabited, and which might have diffused example with the spread of population. Assuredly, if India was colonized from the cradle of nations, Central Asia, they did not thence bring these notions within the Indus; for the Scythian women went to the opposite extreme, and were polyandrists.[4.23.4] The desire of eradicating those impure habits, described by Herodotus, that the slipper at the tent-door should no longer be a sign, may have originated the opposite extreme in a life of entire seclusion. Both polygamy and polyandry originated in a mistaken view of the animal economy, and of the first great command to people the earth: the one was general amongst all the nations [611] of antiquity; the other rare, though to be found in Scythia, India, and even amongst the Natchez, in the new world; but never with the Rajput, with whom monogamy existed during the patriarchal ages of India, as amongst the Egyptians.[4.23.5] Of all the nations of the world who have habituated the female to a restricted intercourse with society, whether Grecian, Roman, Egyptian, or Chinese, the Rajput has given least cause to provoke the sentiment of pity; for if deference and respect be proofs of civilization, Rajputana must be considered as redundant in evidence of it. The uxoriousness of the Rajput might be appealed to as indicative of the decay of national morals; “chez les barbares (says Ségur) les femmes ne sont rien: les mœurs de ces peuples s’adoucissent-t’-elles, on compte les femmes pour quelque chose: enfin, se corrompent-elles, les femmes sont tout”; and whether from this decay, or the more probable and amiable cause of seeking, in their society, consolation for the loss of power and independence, the women are nearly everything with the Rajput.

It is scarcely fair to quote Manu as an authority for the proper treatment of the fair sex, since many of his dicta by no means tend to elevate their condition. In his lengthened catalogue of things pure and impure he says, however, “The mouth of a woman is constantly pure,”[4.23.6] and he ranks it with the running waters and the sunbeam; he suggests that their names should be “agreeable, soft, clear, captivating the fancy, auspicious, ending in long vowels, resembling words of benediction.”[4.23.7]

“Where females are honoured” (says Manu), “there the deities are pleased; but where dishonoured, there all religious rites become useless”: and he declares, “that in whatever house a woman not duly honoured pronounces an imprecation, that house, with all that belongs to it, shall utterly perish.”[4.23.8] “Strike not, even with a blossom, a wife guilty of a hundred faults,”[4.23.9] says another sage: a sentiment so delicate, that Reginald de Born, the prince of troubadours, never uttered any more refined.

However exalted the respect of the Rajput for the fair, he nevertheless holds that

Nothing lovelier can be found
In woman, than to study household good [612].

=The Chief of Sādri and his Wife.=—In the most tempestuous period of the history of Mewar, when the Ranas broke asunder the bonds which united them to the other chiefs of Rajasthan, and bestowed their daughters on the foreign nobles incorporated with the higher class of their own kin, the chief of Sadri, so often mentioned, had obtained a princess to wife. There was a hazard to domestic happiness in such unequal alliance, which the lord of Sadri soon experienced. To the courteous request, “Ranawatji, fill me a cup of water,” he received a contemptuous refusal, with the remark, that “The daughter of a hundred kings would not become cup-bearer to the chieftain of Sadri.”—“Very well,” replied the plain soldier, “you may return to your father’s house, if you can be of no use in mine.” A messenger was instantly sent to the court, and the message, with every aggravation, was made known; and she followed on the heels of her messenger. A summons soon arrived for the Sadri chief to attend his sovereign at the capital. He obeyed; and arrived in time to give his explanation just as the Rana was proceeding to hold a full court. As usual, the Sadri chief was placed on his sovereign’s right hand, and when the court broke up, the heir-apparent of Mewar, at a preconcerted sign, stood at the edge of the carpet, performing the menial office of holding the slippers of the chief. Shocked at such a mark of extreme respect, he stammered forth some words of homage, his unworthiness, etc.; to which the Rana replied, “As my son-in-law, no distinction too great can be conferred: take home your wife, she will never again refuse you a cup of water” [613].[4.23.10]

Could authority deemed divine ensure obedience to what is considered a virtue in all ages and countries, the conjugal duties of the Rajputs are comprehended in the following simple text: “Let mutual fidelity continue to death; this, in few words, may be considered as the supreme law between husband and wife.”[4.23.11]

=Devotion of Rājput Women.=—That this law governed the Rajputs in past ages, as well as the present, in as great a degree as in other stages of society and other countries, we cannot doubt. Nor will the annals of any nation afford more numerous or more sublime instances of female devotion, than those of the Rajputs; and such would never have been recorded, were not the incentive likely to be revered and followed. How easy would it be to cite examples for every passion which can actuate the human mind! Do we desire to see a model of unbounded devotion, resignation, and love, let us take the picture of Sita, as painted by the Milton of their silver age, than which nothing more beautiful or sentimental may be culled even from Paradise Lost. Rama was about to abandon his faithful wife for the purpose of becoming a Vana-prastha or hermit, when she thus pours out her ardent desire to partake of his solitude.

A woman’s bliss is found, not in the smile
Of father, mother, friend, nor in herself:
Her husband is her only portion here,
Her heaven hereafter. If thou indeed
Depart this day into the forest drear,
I will precede, and smooth the thorny way.

A gay recluse
On thee attending, happy shall I feel
Within the honey-scented grove to roam,
For thou e’en here canst nourish and protect;
And therefore other friend I cannot need.
To-day most surely with thee will I go,
And thus resolved, I must not be deny’d.
Roots and wild fruit shall be my constant food;
Nor will I near thee add unto thy cares,
Nor lag behind, nor forest-food refuse,
But fearless traverse every hill and dale.

Thus could I sweetly pass a thousand years;
But without thee e’en heaven would lose its charms [614].

Pleased to embrace thy feet, I will reside
In the rough forest as my father’s house.
Void of all other wish, supremely thine,
Permit me this request—I will not grieve,
I will not burden thee—refuse me not.
But shouldst thou, Raghuvu, this prayer deny
Know, I resolve on death.

_Vide_ Ward, _On the History, Literature, and Mythology of the Hindus_, ed. 1815, ii. p. 308 ff. [Cp. Manu, vi. 2 ff.]

The publication of Mr. Wilson’s specimens of the Hindu drama has put the English public in possession of very striking features of ancient Hindu manners, amongst which conjugal fidelity and affection stand eminently conspicuous. The Uttara Rama Charitra, the Vikrama and Urvasi, and the Mudra Rakshasa, contain many instances in point. In the latter piece occurs an example, in comparatively humble life, of the strong affection of a Hindu wife. Chandana Das, like Antonio in the _Merchant of Venice_, is doomed to die, to save his friend. His wife follows him to the scene of execution, with their only child, and the succeeding dialogue ensues:

_Chand._ Withdraw, my love, and lead our boy along.

_Wife._ Forgive me, husband,—to another world

Thy steps are bound, and not to foreign realms,

Whence in due time thou homeward wilt return;

No common farewell our leave-taking now

Admits, nor must the partner of thy fate

Leave thee to trace thy solitary way.

_Chand._ What dost thou mean?

_Wife._ To follow thee in death.

_Chand._ Think not of this—our boy’s yet tender years

Demand affectionate and guardian care.

_Wife._ I leave him to our household gods, nor fear

They will desert his youth:—come, my dear boy,

And bid thy sire a long and last farewell.

=The Tale of Dewaldai.=—The annals of no nation on earth record a more ennobling or more magnanimous instance of female loyalty than that exemplified by Dewaldai, mother of the Bannaphar brothers, which will at once illustrate the manners of the Rajput fair, and their estimation and influence in society.

The last Hindu emperor of Delhi, the chivalrous Prithiraj of the Chauhan race, had abducted the daughter of the prince of Sameta. Some of the wounded who had covered his retreat were assailed and put to death by Parmal, the Chandel prince of Mahoba.[4.23.12] In order to avenge this insult, the emperor had no sooner conveyed his bride to Delhi than he invaded the territory of the Chandel, whose troops were cut to pieces at Sirswa,[4.23.13] the advanced post of his kingdom. While [615] pursuing his success, the Chandel called a council, and by the advice of his queen Malandevi demanded a truce of his adversary, on the plea of the absence of his chieftains Alha and Udala. The brother of the bard of Mahoba was the envoy, who found the Chauhan ready to cross the Pahuj. He presented his gifts, and adjured him, “as a true Rajput, not to take them at such disadvantage.” The gifts were accepted, and the Chauhan pledged himself, “albeit his warriors were eager for the fight,” to grant the truce demanded; and having dismissed the herald, he inquired of his own bard, the prophetic Chand, the cause of the disaffection which led to the banishment of the Bannaphar; to which he thus replies: “Jasraj was the leader of the armies of Mahoba when his sovereign was defeated and put to flight by the wild race of Gonds; Jasraj repulsed the foe, captured Garha their capital, and laid his head at his sovereign’s feet. Parmal returning with victory to Mahoba, in gratitude for his service, embraced the sons of Jasraj, and placed them in his honours and lands, while Malandevi the queen made no distinction between them and her son.” The fief of the young Bannaphar[4.23.14] chieftains was at the celebrated fortress Kalanjar, where their sovereign happening to see a fine mare belonging to Alha, desired to possess her, and being refused, so far forgot past services as to compel them to abandon the country. On retiring they fired the estates of the Parihara chief who had instigated their disgrace. With their mother and families they repaired to Kanauj, whose monarch received them with open arms, assigning lands for their maintenance. Having thus premised the cause of banishment, Chand conducts us to Kanauj, at the moment when Jagnakh the bard was addressing the exiles on the dangers of Mahoba.

=War with Prithirāj.=—“The Chauhan is encamped on the plains of Mahoba; Narsingh and Birsingh have fallen, Sirswa is given to the flames, and the kingdom of Parmal laid waste by the Chauhan. For one month a truce has been obtained: while to you I am sent for aid in his griefs. Listen, O sons of Bannaphar; sad have been the days of Malandevi since you left Mahoba! Oft she looks towards Kanauj; and while she recalls you to mind, tears gush from her eyes and she exclaims, ‘The fame of the Chandel is departing’; but when gone, O sons of Jasraj, great will be your self-accusing sorrow: yet, think of Mahoba.”

“Destruction to Mahoba! Annihilation to the Chandel who, without fault [616], expelled us our home: in whose service fell our father, by whom his kingdom was extended. Send the slanderous Parihara—let him lead your armies against the heroes of Delhi. Our heads were the pillars of Mahoba; by us were the Gonds expelled, and their strongholds Deogarh and Chandbari added to his sway. We maintained the field against the Jadon, sacked Hindaun,[4.23.15] and planted his standard on the plains of Katehr.[4.23.16] It was I (continued Alha) who stopped the sword of the conquering Kachhwaha[4.23.17]—The amirs of the Sultan fled before us.—At Gaya we were victorious, and added Rewa[4.23.18] to his kingdom. Antarved[4.23.19] I gave to the flames, and levelled to the ground the towns of Mewat.[4.23.20] From ten princes did Jasraj bring spoil to Mahoba. This have we done; and the reward is exile from our home! Seven times have I received wounds in his service, and since my father’s death gained forty battles; and from seven has Udala conveyed the record of victory[4.23.21] to Parmal. Thrice my death seemed inevitable. The honour of his house I have upheld—yet exile is my reward!”

The bard replies—“The father of Parmal left him when a child to the care of Jasraj. Your father was in lieu of his own; the son should not abandon him when misfortune makes him call on you. The Rajput who abandons his sovereign in distress will be plunged into hell. Then place on your head the loyalty of your father. Can you desire to remain at Kanauj while he is in trouble, who expended thousands in rejoicings for your birth? Malandevi (the queen), who loves you as her own, presses your return. She bids me demand of Dewaldai fulfilment of the oft-repeated vow, that your life and Mahoba, when endangered, were inseparable. The breaker of vows, despised on earth, will be plunged into hell, there to remain while sun and moon endure.”

Dewaldai heard the message of the queen. “Let us fly to Mahoba,” she [617] exclaimed. Alha was silent, while Udala said aloud, “May evil spirits seize upon Mahoba!—Can we forget the day when, in distress, he drove us forth?—Return to Mahoba—let it stand or fall, it is the same to me; Kanauj is henceforth my home.”

“Would that the gods had made me barren,” said Dewaldai, “that I had never borne sons who thus abandon the paths of the Rajput, and refuse to succour their prince in danger!” Her heart bursting with grief, and her eyes raised to heaven, she continued: “Was it for this, O universal lord, thou mad’st me feel a mother’s pangs for these destroyers of Bannaphar’s fame? Unworthy offspring! the heart of the true Rajput dances with joy at the mere name of strife—but ye, degenerate, cannot be the sons of Jasraj—some carl must have stolen to my embrace, and from such ye must be sprung.” The young chiefs arose, their faces withered in sadness. “When we perish in defence of Mahoba, and covered with wounds, perform deeds that will leave a deathless name; when our heads roll in the field—when we embrace the valiant in fight, and treading in the footsteps of the brave, make resplendent the blood of both lines, even in the presence of the heroes of the Chauhan, then will our mother rejoice.”

The envoy having, by this loyal appeal of Dewaldai, attained the object of his mission, the brothers repair to the monarch of Kanauj,[4.23.22] in order to ask permission to return to Mahoba; this is granted, and they are dismissed with magnificent gifts, in which the bardic herald participated;[4.23.23] and the parting valediction was “preserve the faith of the Rajputs.” The omens during the march were of the worst kind: as Jagnakh expounded them, Alha with a smile replied, “O bard, though thou canst dive into the dark recesses of futurity, to the brave all omens are happy,[4.23.24] even though our heroes shall fall, and the fame of the Chandel must depart; thus in secret does my soul assure me.” The saras[4.23.25] was alone on the right—the eagle as he flew dropped his prey—the chakwa[4.23.26] “separated from his mate—drops fell from the eyes of the warlike steed—the siyal[4.23.27] sent forth sounds of lamentation; spots were seen on the disc of the sun” [618]. The countenance of Lakhan fell;[4.23.28] these portents filled his soul with dismay: but Alha said, “though these omens bode death, yet death to the valiant, to the pure in faith, is an object of desire not of sorrow. The path of the Rajput is beset with difficulties, rugged, and filled with thorns; but he regards it not, so it but conducts to battle.”—“To carry joy to Parmala alone occupied their thoughts: the steeds bounded over the plain like the swift-footed deer.” The brothers, ere they reached Mahoba, halted to put on the saffron robe, the sign of “no quarter” with the Rajput warrior. The intelligence of their approach filled the Chandela prince with joy, who advanced to embrace his defenders, and conduct them to Mahoba; while the queen Malandevi came to greet Dewaldai, who with the herald bard paid homage, and returned with the queen to the city. Rich gifts were presented, gems resplendent with light. The queen sent for Alha, and extending her hands over his head, bestowed the _asis_[4.23.29] (blessing) as kneeling he swore his head was with Mahoba, and then waved a vessel filled with pearls over his head, which were distributed to his followers.[4.23.30]

The bardic herald was rewarded with four villages. We are then introduced to the Chauhan camp and council, where Chand the bard is expatiating on the return of the Bannaphars with the succours of Kanauj. He recommends his sovereign to send a herald to the Chandel to announce the expiration of the truce, and requiring him to meet him in the field, or abandon Mahoba. According to the bard’s advice, a dispatch was transmitted to Parmal, in which the cause of war was recapitulated—the murder of the wounded; and stating that, according to Rajput faith, he had granted seven days beyond the time demanded, “and although so many days had passed since succour had arrived from Kanauj, the lion-horn had not yet sounded (_singhnad_)”: adding, “if he abandon all desire of combat, let him proclaim his vassalage to Delhi, and abandon Mahoba.”

Parmal received the hostile message in despair; but calling his warriors around him, he replied to the herald of the Chauhan, that “on the day of the sun, the first of the month, he would join him in strife” [619].

“On the day sacred to Sukra (Friday), Prithiraj sounded the shell, while the drums thrice struck proclaimed the truce concluded.[4.23.31] The standard was brought forth, around which the warriors gathered; the cup circulated, the prospect of battle filled their souls with joy. They anointed their bodies with fragrant oils, while the celestial Apsaras with ambrosial oils and heavenly perfumes anointed their silver forms, tinged their eyelids, and prepared for the reception of heroes.[4.23.32] The sound of the war-shell reached Kailas; the abstraction of Iswara was at an end—joy seized his soul at the prospect of completing his chaplet of skulls (_mundamala_). The Yoginis danced with joy, their faces sparkled with delight, as they seized their vessels to drink the blood of the slain. The devourers of flesh, the Palankashas, sung songs of triumph at the game of battle between the Chauhan and Chandel.”

In another measure, the bard proceeds to contrast the occupations of his heroes and the celestials preparatory to the combat, which descriptions are termed _rupaka_. “The heroes gird on their armour, while the heavenly fair deck their persons. They place on their heads the helm crowned with the war-bell (_viragantha_), these adjust the corset; they draw the girths of the war-steed, the fair of the world of bliss bind the anklet of bells; nets of steel defend the turban’s fold, they braid their hair with golden flowers and gems; the warrior polishes his falchion—the fair tints the eyelid with _anjan_;[4.23.33] the hero points his dagger, the fair paints a heart on her forehead; he braces on his ample buckler—she places the resplendent orb in her ear; he binds his arms with a gauntlet of brass—she stains her hands with the henna. The hero decorates his hand with the tiger-claw[4.23.34]—the Apsaras ornaments with rings and golden bracelets; the warrior shakes the ponderous lance—the heavenly fair the garland of love[4.23.35] to decorate those who fall in the fight; she binds on a necklace of pearls, he a _mala_ of the tulasi.[4.23.36] The warrior strings his bow—the fair assume their killing [620] glances. Once more the heroes look to their girths, while the celestial fair prepare their cars.”

After the bard has finished his _rupaka_, he exclaims, “Thus says Chand, the lord of verse; with my own eyes have I seen what I describe.” It is important to remark, that the national faith of the Rajput never questions the prophetic power of their chief bard, whom they call Trikala, or cognoscent of the past, the present, and the future—a character which the bard has enjoyed in all ages and climes; but Chand was the last whom they admitted to possess supernatural vision.

We must now return to Mahoba, where a grand council had assembled at a final deliberation; at which, shaded by screens, the mother of the Bannaphars, and the queen Malandevi, were present. The latter thus opens the debate: “O mother of Alha, how may we succeed against the lord of the world?[4.23.37] If defeated, lost is Mahoba; if we pay tribute, we are loaded with shame.” Dewaldai recommends hearing _seriatim_ the opinions of the chieftains, when Alha thus speaks: “Listen, O mother, to your son; he alone is of pure lineage who, placing loyalty on his head, abandons all thoughts of self, and lays down his life for his prince; my thoughts are only for Parmal. If she lives she will show herself a woman, or emanation of Parvati.[4.23.38] The warriors of Sambhar shall be cut in pieces. I will so illustrate the blood of my fathers, that my fame shall last for ever. My son Indal, O prince! I bequeath to you, and the fame of Dewaldai is in your keeping.”

The queen thus replies: “The warriors of the Chauhan are fierce as they are numerous; pay tribute, and save Mahoba.” The soul of Udala inflamed, and turning to the queen, “Why thought you not thus when you slew the defenceless? but then I was unheard. Whence now your wisdom? thrice I beseeched you to pardon. Nevertheless, Mahoba is safe while life remains in me, and in your cause, O Parmal! we shall espouse celestial brides.”

“Well have you spoken, my son,” said Dewaldai, “nothing now remains but to make thy parent’s milk resplendent by thy deeds. The call of the peasant driven [621] from his home meets the ear, and while we deliberate, our villages are given to the flames.” But Parmal replied: “Saturn[4.23.39] rules the day, to-morrow we shall meet the foe.” With indignation Alha turned to the king: “He who can look tamely on while the smoke ascends from his ruined towns, his fields laid waste, can be no Rajput—he who succumbs to fear when his country is invaded, his body will be plunged into the hell of hells, his soul a wanderer in the world of spirits for sixty thousand years; but the warrior who performs his duty will be received into the mansion of the sun, and his deeds will last for ever.”

But cowardice and cruelty always accompany each other, nor could all the speeches of the brothers “screw his courage to the sticking place.” Parmal went to his queen, and gave fresh vent to his lamentation. She upbraided his unmanly spirit, and bid him head his troops and go forth to the fight. The heroes embraced their wives for the last time, and with the dawn performed their pious rites. The Bannaphar offered oblations to the nine planets, and having adored the image of his tutelary god, he again put the chain round his neck;[4.23.40] then calling his son Indal, and Udala his brother, he once more poured forth his vows to the universal mother “that he would illustrate the name of Jasraj, and evince the pure blood derived from Dewaldai, whene’er he met the foe.”—“Nobly have you resolved,” said Udala, “and shall not my _kirwan_[4.23.41] also dazzle the eyes of Sambhar’s lord? shall he not retire from before me?”—“Farewell, my children,” said Dewaldai, “be true to your salt, and should you lose your heads for your prince, doubt not you will obtain the celestial crown.” Having ceased, the wives of both exclaimed, “What virtuous wife survives her lord? for thus says Gauriji,[4.23.42] ‘the woman, who survives her husband who falls in the field of battle, will never obtain bliss, but wander a discontented ghost in the region of unhallowed spirits.’”

This is sufficient to exhibit the supreme influence of women, not only on, but also in society.

The extract is taken from the Bardic historian, when Hindu customs were pure, and the Chauhan was paramount sovereign of India. It is worth while to compare it with another written six centuries after the conquest by the Muhammadans; although six dynasties—namely, Ghazni, Ghor, Khilji [622], Sayyid, Lodi, and Mogul, numbering more than thirty kings, had intervened, yet the same uncontrollable spirit was in full force, unchangeable even in misfortune. Both Hindu and Persian historians expatiate with delight on the anecdote; but we prefer the narrative of the ingenuous Bernier, under whose eye the incident occurred.

=Jaswant Singh and his Wife.=—In the civil war for empire amongst the sons of Shah Jahan, when Aurangzeb opened his career by the deposal of his father and the murder of his brothers, the Rajputs, faithful to the emperor, determined to oppose him. Under the intrepid Rathor Jaswant Singh, thirty thousand Rajputs, chiefly of that clan, advanced to the Nerbudda, and with a magnanimity amounting to imprudence, they permitted the junction of Murad with Aurangzeb, who, under cover of artillery served by Frenchmen, crossed the river almost unopposed. Next morning the action commenced, which continued throughout the day. The Rajputs behaved with their usual bravery; but were surrounded on all sides, and by sunset left ten thousand dead on the field.[4.23.43] The Maharaja retreated to his own country, but his wife, a daughter of the Rana of Udaipur, “disdained (says Ferishta) to receive her lord, and shut the gates of the castle.”

Bernier, who was present, says, “I cannot forbear to relate the fierce reception which the daughter of the Rana gave to her husband Jeswunt Singh [Jessom Seingue], after his defeat and flight. When she heard he was nigh, and had understood what had passed in the battle; that he had fought with all possible courage; that he had but four or five hundred men left; and at last, no longer able to resist the enemy, had been forced to retreat; instead of sending some one to condole him in his misfortunes, she commanded in a dry mood to shut the gates of the castle, and not to let this infamous man enter; that he was not her husband; that the son-in-law of the great Rana could not have so mean a soul; that he was to remember, that being grafted into so illustrious a house, he was to imitate its virtue; in a word, he was to vanquish, or to die. A moment after, she was of another humour; she commands a pile of wood to be laid, that she might burn herself; that they abused her; that her husband must needs be dead; that it could not be otherwise. And a little while after, she was seen to change countenance, to [623] fall into a passion, and break into a thousand reproaches against him. In short, she remained thus transported eight or nine days, without being able to resolve to see her husband, till at last her mother coming, brought her in time to herself, composed by assuring her that as soon as the Raja had but refreshed himself he would raise another army to fight Aurangzeb, and repair his honour. By which story one may see,” says Bernier, “a pattern of the courage of the women in that country”; and he adds this philosophical corollary on this and the custom of satis, which he had witnessed: “There is nothing which opinion, prepossession, custom, hope, and the point of honour, may not make men do or suffer.”[4.23.44]

=The Tale of Sanjogta.=—The romantic history of the Chauhan emperor of Delhi abounds in sketches of female character; and in the story of his carrying off Sanjogta, the princess of Kanauj, we have not only the individual portrait of the Helen of her country, but in it a faithful picture of the sex. We see her, from the moment when, rejecting the assembled princes, she threw the “garland of marriage” round the neck of her hero, the Chauhan, abandon herself to all the influences of passion—mix in a combat of five days’ continuance against her father’s array, witness his overthrow, and the carnage of both armies, and subsequently, by her seductive charms, lulling her lover into a neglect of every princely duty. Yet when the foes of his glory and power invade India, we see the enchantress at once start from her trance of pleasure, and exchanging the softer for the sterner passions, in accents not less strong because mingled with deep affection, she conjures him, while arming him for the battle, to die for his fame, declaring that she will join him in “the mansions of the sun.” Though it is difficult to extract, in passages sufficiently condensed, what may convey a just idea of this heroine, we shall attempt it in the bard’s own language, rendered into prose. He announces the tidings of invasion by the medium of a dream, which the Chauhan thus relates:

“‘This night, while in the arms of sleep, a fair, beautiful as Rambha, rudely seized my arm; then she assailed you, and while you were struggling, a mighty elephant,[4.23.45] infuriated, and hideous as a demon, bore down upon me. Sleep fled—nor Rambha nor demon remained—but my heart was panting, and [624] my quivering lips muttering _Har! Har!_[4.23.46] What is decreed the gods only know.’

“Sanjogta replied, ‘Victory and fame to my lord! O, sun of the Chauhans, in glory, or in pleasure, who has tasted so deeply as you? To die is the destiny not only of man but of the gods: all desire to throw off the old garment; but to die well is to live for ever. Think not of self, but of immortality; let your sword divide your foe, and I will be your _ardhanga_[4.23.47] hereafter.’

“The king sought the bard, who expounded the dream, and the Guru wrote an incantation, which he placed in his turban. A thousand brass vessels of fresh milk were poured in libations to the sun and moon. Ten buffaloes were sacrificed to the supporters of the globe, and gifts were made to all. But will offerings of blood or libations of milk arrest what is decreed? If by these man could undo what is ordained, would Nala or the Pandus have suffered as they did?”

While the warriors assemble in council to consult on the best mode of opposing the Sultan of Ghazni, the king leaves them to deliberate, in order to advise with Sanjogta. Her reply is curious:

“Who asks woman for advice? The world deems their understanding shallow; even when truths issue from their lips, none listen thereto. Yet what is the world without woman? We have the forms of Sakti[4.23.48] with the fire of Siva; we are at once thieves and sanctuaries; we are vessels of virtue and of vice—of knowledge and of ignorance. The man of wisdom, the astrologer, can from the books calculate the motion and course of the planets; but in the book of woman he is ignorant: and this is not a saying of to-day, it ever has been so: our book has not been mastered, therefore, to hide their ignorance, they say, in woman there is no wisdom! Yet woman shares your joys and your sorrows. Even when you depart from the mansion of the sun, we part not. Hunger and thirst we cheerfully partake with you; we are as the lakes, of which you are the swans; what are when absent from our bosoms?”

The army having assembled, and all being prepared to march against the Islamite, in the last great battle which subjugated India, the fair Sanjogta armed her lord for the encounter. In vain she sought the rings of his corslet; her eyes were [625] fixed on the face of the Chauhan, as those of the famished wretch who finds a piece of gold. The sound of the drum reached the ear of the Chauhan; it was as a death-knell on that of Sanjogta: and as he left her to head Delhi’s heroes, she vowed that henceforward water only should sustain her. “I shall see him again in the region of Surya, but never more in Yoginipur.”[4.23.49] Her prediction was fulfilled: her lord was routed, made captive and slain; and, faithful to her vow, she mounted the funeral pyre.

=The Queen of Ganor.=—Were we called upon to give a pendant for Lucretia, it would be found in the queen of Ganor.[4.23.50] After having defended five fortresses against the foe, she retreated to her last stronghold on the Nerbudda, and had scarcely left the bark, when the assailants arrived in pursuit. The disheartened defenders were few in number, and the fortress was soon in possession of the foe, the founder of the family now ruling in Bhopal. The beauty of the queen of Ganor was an allurement only secondary to his desire for her country, and he invited her to reign over it and him. Denial would have been useless, and would have subjected her to instant coercion, for the Khan awaited her reply in the hall below; she therefore sent a message of assent, with a complimentary reflection on his gallant conduct and determination of pursuit; adding, that he merited her hand for his bravery, and might prepare for the nuptials, which should be celebrated on the terrace of the palace. She demanded two hours for unmolested preparation, that she might appear in appropriate attire, and with the distinction her own and his rank demanded.

Ceremonials, on a scale of magnificence equal to the shortness of the time, were going on. The song of joy had already stifled the discordant voice of war, and at length the Khan was summoned to the terrace. Robed in the marriage garb presented to him by the queen, with a necklace and aigrette of superb jewels from the coffers of Ganor, he hastened to obey the mandate, and found that fame had not done justice to her charms. He was desired to be seated, and in conversation full of rapture on his side, hours were as minutes while he gazed on the beauty of the queen. But presently his countenance fell—he complained of heat; punkas and water were brought, but they availed him not, and he began to tear the bridal garments from his frame, when the queen thus addressed him [626]: “Know, Khan, that your last hour is come; our wedding and our death shall be sealed together. The vestments which cover you are poisoned; you had left me no other expedient to escape pollution.” While all were horror-struck by this declaration, she sprung from the battlements into the flood beneath. The Khan died in extreme torture, and was buried on the road to Bhopal; and, strange to say, a visit to his grave has the reputation of curing the tertian of that country.[4.23.51]

=Rāja Jai Singh and his Wife.=—We may give another anecdote illustrative of this extreme delicacy of sentiment, but without so tragical a conclusion. The celebrated Raja Jai Singh of Amber had espoused a princess of Haraoti, whose manners and garb, accordant with the simplicity of that provincial capital, subjected her to the badinage of the more refined court of Amber, whose ladies had added the imperial costume to their own native dress. One day being alone with the prince, he began playfully to contrast the sweeping jupe of Kotah with the more scanty robe of the belles of his own capital; and taking up a pair of scissors, said he would reduce it to an equality with the latter. Offended at such levity, she seized his sword, and assuming a threatening attitude, said, “that in the house to which she had the honour to belong, they were not habituated to jests of this nature; that mutual respect was the guardian, not only of happiness but of virtue”; and she assured him, that if he ever again so insulted her, he would find that the daughter of Kotah could use a sword more effectively than the prince of Amber the scissors; adding, that she would prevent any future scion of her house from being subjected to similar disrespect, by declaring such intermarriages _talak_, or forbidden, which interdict I believe yet exists.[4.23.52]

=A Courageous Rājput Woman.=—I will append an anecdote related by the celebrated Zalim Singh, characteristic of the presence of mind, prowess, and physical strength of the Rajput women. To attend and aid in the minutiae of husbandry is by no means uncommon with them, as to dress and carry the meals of their husbands to the fields is a general practice. In the jungle which skirts the knolls of Pachpahar, a huge bear assaulted a Rajputni as she was carrying her husband’s dinner. As he approached with an air of gallantry upon his hind-legs, doubting whether the food or herself [627] were the intended prey, she retreated behind a large tree, round the trunk of which Bruin, still in his erect attitude, tried all his powers of circumvention to seize her. At length, half exhausted, she boldly grasped his paws, and with so vigorous a hold that he roared with pain, while in vain, with his short neck, did he endeavour to reach the powerful hand which fixed him. While she was in this dilemma, a Pardesi (a foreign soldier of the State) happened to be passing to the garrison of Gagraun, and she called out to him in a voice of such unconcern to come and release her for a time, that he complied without hesitation. She had not retired, however, above a dozen yards ere he called loudly for her return, being scarcely able to hold his new friend; but laughingly recommending perseverance, she hastened on, and soon returned with her husband, who laid the monster prostrate with his matchlock, and rescued the Pardesi from his unpleasing predicament.[4.23.53]

Such anecdotes might be multiplied _ad infinitum_; but I will conclude with one displaying the romantic chivalry of the Rajput, and the influence of the fair in the formation of character; it is taken from the annals of Jaisalmer, the most remote of the States of Rajasthan, and situated in the heart of the desert, of which it is an oasis.

=The Wedding of Sādhu.=—Raningdeo was lord of Pugal, a fief of Jaisalmer; his heir, named Sadhu, was the terror of the desert, carrying his raids even to the valley of the Indus, and on the east to Nagor. Returning from a foray, with a train of captured camels and horses, he passed by Aurint, where dwelt Manik Rao, the chief of the Mohils, whose rule extended over 1440 villages. Being invited to partake of the hospitality of the Mohil, the heir of Pugal attracted the favourable regards of the old chieftain’s daughter:

She loved him for the dangers he had passed;

for he had the fame of being the first riever of the desert. Although betrothed to the heir of the Rathor of Mandor, she signified her wish to renounce the throne to be the bride of the chieftain of Pugal; and in spite of the dangers he provoked, and contrary to the Mohil chief’s advice, Sadhu, as a gallant Rajput, dared not reject the overture, and he promised “to accept the coco,”[4.23.54] if sent in form to Pugal [628]. In due time it came, and the nuptials were solemnized at Aurint. The dower was splendid; gems of high price, vessels of gold and silver, a golden bull, and a train of thirteen _dewadharis_,[4.23.55] or damsels of wisdom and penetration.

Arankanwal, the slighted heir of Mandor, determined on revenge, and with four thousand Rathors planted himself in the path of Sadhu’s return, aided by the Sankhla Mehraj, whose son Sadhu had slain. Though entreated to add four thousand Mohils to his escort, Sadhu deemed his own gallant band of seven hundred Bhattis sufficient to convey his bride to his desert abode, and with difficulty accepted fifty, led by Meghraj, the brother of the bride.

The rivals encountered at Chondan, where Sadhu had halted to repose; but the brave Rathor scorned the advantage of numbers, and a series of single combats ensued, with all the forms of chivalry. The first who entered the lists was Jaitanga, of the Pahu clan, and of the kin of Sadhu. The enemy came upon him by surprise while reposing on the ground, his saddle-cloth for his couch, and the bridle of his steed twisted round his arm; he was soon recognized by the Sankhla, who had often encountered his prowess, on which he expatiated to Arankanwal, who sent an attendant to awake him; but the gallant Panch Kalyan (for such was the name of his steed) had already performed this service, and they found him upbraiding white-legs[4.23.56] for treading upon him. Like a true Rajput, “_toujours prêt_,” he received the hostile message, and sent the envoy back with his compliments, and a request for some _amal_ or opium, as he had lost his own supply. With all courtesy this was sent, and prepared by the domestics of his antagonist; after taking which he lay down to enjoy the customary siesta. As soon as he awoke, he prepared for the combat, girt on his armour, and having reminded Panch Kalyan of the fields he had won, and telling him to bear him well that day, he mounted and advanced. The son of Chonda admiring his sang-froid, and the address with which he guided his steed, commanded Jodha Chauhan, the leader of his party, to encounter the Pahu. “Their two-edged swords soon clashed in combat”; but the gigantic Chauhan fell beneath the Bhatti, who, warmed with the fight, plunged amidst his foes, encountering all he deemed worthy of his assault.

The fray thus begun, single combats and actions of equal parties followed, the [629] rivals looking on. At length Sadhu mounted: twice he charged the Rathor ranks, carrying death on his lance; each time he returned for the applause of his bride, who beheld the battle from her car. Six hundred of his foes had fallen, and nearly half his own warriors. He bade her a last adieu, while she exhorted him to the fight, saying, “she would witness his deeds, and if he fell, would follow him even in death.” Now he singled out his rival Arankanwal,[4.23.57] who was alike eager to end the strife, and blot out his disgrace in his blood. They met: some seconds were lost in a courteous contention, each yielding to his rival the first blow, at length dealt out by Sadhu on the neck of the disappointed Rathor. It was returned with the rapidity of lightning, and the daughter of the Mohil saw the steel descend on the head of her lover. Both fell prostrate to the earth: but Sadhu’s soul had sped; the Rathor had only swooned. With the fall of the leaders the battle ceased; and the fair cause of strife, Karamdevi, at once a virgin, a wife, and a widow, prepared to follow her affianced. Calling for a sword, with one arm she dissevered the other, desiring it might be conveyed to the father of her lord—“tell him such was his daughter.” The other she commanded to be struck off, and given, with her marriage jewels thereon, to the bard of the Mohils. The pile was prepared on the field of battle; and taking her lord in her embrace, she gave herself up to the devouring flames. The dissevered limbs were disposed of as commanded; the old Rao of Pugal caused the one to be burnt, and a tank was excavated on the spot, which is still called after the heroine, “the lake of Karamdevi.”

This encounter took place in S. 1462, A.D. 1406. The brunt of the battle fell on the Sankhlas, and only twenty-five out of three hundred and fifty left the field with their leader, Mehraj, himself severely wounded. The rejected lover had four brothers dangerously hurt; and in six months the wounds of Arankanwal opened afresh: he died, and the rites to the manes of these rivals in love, the _chhamasa_[4.23.58] of Sadhu, and the _duadasa_[4.23.59] of Arankanwal, were celebrated on the same day.