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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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