Directly opposite, and very near the shrine of the “four-armed,” is a small Jain temple, erected, in S. 1774, to cover an image of the great pontiff, Parsvanath, found in digging near this spot. Here at every step are relics of past ages.
February 2.—An accident has compelled another halt at Morwan. The morning was clear and frosty, not a cloud in the sky, and we rose with the sun; my kinsman, Captain Waugh, to try his Arab at a nilgae, and myself to bag a few of the large rock-pigeons which are numerous about Morwan. My friend, after a hard run, had drawn blood from the elk, and was on the point of spearing him effectually just as he attained a thick part of the jungle, which not heeding, horse and rider came in contact with a tree, and were dashed with violence to the ground. There he lay insensible, and was brought home upon a charpai, or cot, by the villagers, much bruised, but fortunately with no broken bones. A leech was not to be had in any of the adjacent villages; and the patient complaining chiefly of the hip-bone, we could only apply emollients and recommend repose. I returned with no game except one or two black-partridges and batten-quail. The rock-pigeon, or barr-titar, though unaccustomed to the fowler, were too wild for me to get a shot at them. The bird bears no analogy to the pigeon, but has all the rich game plumage of the titar, or partridge, in which name the ornithologist of the west will see the origin of tetrao. There are two species of this bird in India, one much smaller than the common partridge; that of which I speak is much larger, and with the peculiarity of being feathered to the toe. I have since discovered it to be the counterpart of a bird in the museum at Chambéry, called 'barteveldt des Alpes'; the ptarmigan of the highlands of Scotland. The male has exactly these redundant white feathers; while that I saw in Savoy was a richly plumaged female barr-titar.
Tale of a Tiger.
The ‘lord of the black rock,’ for such is the designation of the tiger, was one of the most ancient bourgeois of Morwan; his freehold is Kala-pahar, between this and Magarwar, and his reign for a long series of years has been unmolested, notwithstanding his numerous acts of aggression on his bovine subjects; indeed, only two nights before, he was disturbed gorging on a buffalo belonging to a poor oilman of Morwan. Whether this tiger was an incarnation of one of the Mori lords of Morwan, tradition does not say; but neither gun, bow, nor spear had ever been raised against him. In return for this forbearance, it is said he never preyed upon man, or if he seized one, would, upon being entreated with the endearing epithet of mamu or uncle, let go his hold; and this accounted for the little ragged urchin using a phrase which almost prevented the harkaras returning to his rescue.
Disastrous Effects of Frost, February 3.—Another halt for our patient, who is doing well, and greatly relieved by the application of leeches obtained from Nimbahera.[[5]] What a night! the clouds which had been alternately collecting and dispersing ever since we left Marwar, in December last, but had almost disappeared, as we commenced our present march, again suddenly gathered. The thermometer, which had averaged 41° at daybreak throughout the last month, this morning rose to 60°. On the 1st the wind changed to the south, with showers, where it continued throughout yesterday; but during the night it suddenly veered to the north, and the thermometer at daybreak was 28°, or four degrees below the freezing point. Reader, do you envy me my bon vin de Bourgogne et murailles de coton, with not even a wood fire, labouring under a severe pulmonary affection, with work enough for five men? Only three days ago the thermometer was 86° at noon, and to-day it is less at noon than yesterday at daybreak: even old England, with all her vicissitudes of weather, can scarcely show so rapid a change as this.
Ill-fated Mewar! all our hopes are blasted; this second visitation has frustrated all our labours. The frost of December, which sunk the mercury to 27° as we passed over the plains of Marwar, was felt throughout Rajwara, and blighted every pod of cotton. All was “burnt up”; but our poor exiles comforted [618] themselves, amidst the general sorrow, with the recollection that the young gram was safe. But even this last hope has now vanished: all is nipped in the bud. Had it occurred a month ago, the young plant would have been headed down with the sickle, and additional blossoms would have appeared. I was too unwell to ride out and see the ravages caused by this frost.
February 4.—Our patient is doing so well, that we look to moving to-morrow. Thermometer 28° at daybreak, and 31° at sunrise, with a keen cutting wind from the north. Ice closed the orifice of the mashak, or leathern water-bag. Even the shallow stream near the tents had a pellicle of ice on its surface: our people huddling and shivering round their fires of bajra sticks, and the cattle of all classes looking very melancholy.
Temple of Māmā Devi.
February 5, thermometer 30°.—Mounted Bajraj, ‘the royal steed,’ and took a ride over the heights of Morwan, a wild yet fairy scene, with the Patar or table-land bounding the perspective to the east. The downs are covered with the most luxuriant grasses, and the dhak or palas dried by the wintry blast, as if scorched by the lightning, faintly brought to mind the poet’s simile, applied to this tree, even in the midst of spring: “The black leafless kesula.” We entered a village in ruins, whose nim trees bid defiance to winter; the ‘thorny babul’ (mimosa Arabica) grows luxuriantly out of the inner sides of the walls, and no hand invades the airy nest of the imitative papiha, fantastically pendent from the slenderest branches.[[9]] No trace of the presence of man; but evidence that he has been here. The ground was covered with hoar-frost, and the little stream coated with ice. Many a heavy heart has it caused, and plunged joyous industry into utter despondence. Take one example: yonder Jat, sitting by the side of his field, which he eyes in despair; three months since, he returned, after many years of exile, to the bapota, the land of his sires, without funds, without food, or even the implements for obtaining it. He had been labouring as a serf in other lands, but he heard of peace in his own, and came back to the paternal acres, which had been a stranger to the ploughshare since he was driven from his cot in S. 1844, immediately following the battle of Harkiakhal, when the “Southron” completed the bondage of Mewar. What could he do? his well was dried up, and if not, he had no cattle to irrigate a field of wheat or barley. But Mewar is a kind mother, and she yields her chana crop without water. To the Bohra (the metayer) he promised one-fifth of the produce for the necessary seed and the use of a pair of oxen and a plough; one-fifth more was the share of the state from land so long sterile; there were three-fifths left for himself of his long-neglected but at once luxuriant fields. He watched the crop with paternal solicitude, from the first appearance of verdure to the approach of Basant, the joyous spring. Each night, as he returned to his yet roofless abode, he related the wonders of his field and its rapid vegetation; and as he calculated the produce, he anticipated its application; “so much shall go [620] for a plough, so much for the Bohra, so much in part payment of a pair of bullocks, and the rest will keep me in bread till the makkai crop is ready.” Thus the days passed, until this killing frost nipped his hopes in the bud, and now see him wringing his hands in the bitterest anguish! This is no ideal picture: it is one to be found in every village of Mewar. In this favoured soil there is as much of chana in the rabi harvest as of wheat and barley conjoined, and in the first crop sown in banjar, or soil long sterile, wheat and chana are sown together. It is a sad blow to the exiles; though happily in the crown-lands their distress will be mitigated, as these are rented on leases of five years, and the renters for their own sakes must be lenient, and moreover they are well watched.
February 6.—Still halting; our patient very well, though he feels his bruises; but we shall put him on an elephant to-morrow. The jealousy of the Mahratta had hitherto prevented the inhabitants from fulfilling their desire to come and visit me; but to-day, the elders forming the Panchayat, heading the procession, they came en masse. The authorities need not have feared exposing the nakedness of the land, which is too visible; but they apprehended the contrast of their condition with our poor subjects, who were at least unmolested in their poverty. It was a happiness to learn that this contrast was felt, and as the Patel presented to me an engaging little child, his daughter, he said, “Let not our misfortunes be our faults; we all belong to Mewar, though we are not so happy as to enjoy your protection and care.” I assured him, that although under the Turk, I should look upon them as my children, and the subjects of the Rana; and I have had it in my power to redeem this pledge—for, strange to say, even Amir Khan, seeing that the prosperity of the subject is that of the prince, has commanded his governor of Nimbahera to consult me in everything, and has even gone so far as to beg I would consider the place as under my authority. Already, following our example, he has reduced the transit duties nearly one-half, and begins to think the Farangi notions of economy better than his own, his loss having proved a gain.