CHAPTER 13
Pachpahār. Monson’s Retreat. Fate of Lieutenant Lucan. December 10.—We returned to Garot yesterday, whence we marched ten miles north-north-east this morning over memorable ground. It was from Garot that the retreat of Monson commenced, an event as remarkable in the history of British India as the retreat of Xenophon in that of Greece. The former has not been commemorated by the commander, though even the pen of Xenophon himself could not have mitigated the reproach which that disastrous event has left upon our military reputation. Holkar was at Partabgarh,[[1]] when, hearing of the advance of the English army, he made direct on Mandasor,[[2]] where he halted merely to refresh his horses, and crossing the Chambal at the Aunra ford, he pushed direct on Garot, a distance of nearly fifty miles. Local report states that Monson, in utter ignorance of the rapid advance of Holkar, had that morning recommenced his march for Chandwasa, with what object is unknown; but as soon as he learned the vicinity of the foe, without awaiting him, he ordered a retrograde movement to gain the Mukunddarra pass, leaving Lucan with the irregular horse and the Kotah auxiliaries, chiefly Hara Rajputs, to secure his retreat. Holkar’s army amounted to ten thousand horse, in four gols, or masses, each acting separately. That under —— Khan Bangash[[3]] came on Lucan from the south, while that under Harnath Dada, from the direction of Bhanpur, attacked the Kotah contingent. Lucan defended himself like a hero, and having repelled all their charges, had become the assailant, when he received his death-blow from a hand in his own Paegah.[[4]] My informant, who was that day opposed to this gallant soldier, described the scene, pointing out the mahua tree close to which he fell.
Heroism of Amar Singh Hāra.
A humble altar of clay marks the spot where the brave Hara fell, having a tablet, or Jujhar, representing as usual a cavalier and his steed, armed at all points. I felt indignation at the indifference of the regent who had not marked the spot with a more durable monument, but he is no Hara; though could he entomb the whole tribe, he would erect a structure rivalling even that of Mausolus. But this receives a homage which might be denied to a more splendid one; for the villagers of Pipli fail not in their duty to the manes of Amar Singh, whose lowly altar is maintained in repair. The devoted Lucan has not even so frail a monument as this; nor could I learn if the case which enclosed his gallant spirit had any rites of sepulture. But his memory will be cherished by the inhabitants of Pipli, who will point to the mahua tree as that of “Lucan Sahib ka Jujhar.”
By the sacrifice of these brave men, the British commander gained the Mukunddarra pass, without seeing even an enemy; had he there left only five companies, with sufficient supplies and ammunition, under such men as Sinclair or Nichol, Mukunddarra might have rivalled Thermopylae in renown; for such is the peculiarity of the position, that it would have taken a week to turn it, and that could be done by infantry alone. But the commander “had no confidence in his men”: why then did he accept the command? Throughout the retreat the sipahis were eager for the fight, and expressed their opinion openly of their leader; and when this ‘doubting’ commander left five companies to defend the passage of the Banas, how did they perform it? by repelling every assault, while a particle of ammunition lasted. I have often passed this [728] ford, once with Sindhia’s army, and only three years after the retreat. The gallant stand was admirably described to me by Zaman Khan Rohilla, a brave soldier and no boaster (and that day among our foes), who coolly pointed to the precise spot where he shot one of our officers, in the last charge, with his pistol. He said that the Mahratta infantry would no longer return to the charge, and that Jaswant Rao was like a madman, threw his turban on the ground and called for volunteers amongst the cavalry, by whom at length Sinclair and his men were cut off. It is a lesson by which we ought to profit, never to place in command of sipahis those who do not understand, confide in, and respect them.
Pachpahār.
Kanwāra, December 11; thirteen miles; direction, N.E. by E.—Passed over a fine rich soil, with promising young crops of wheat and gram, and plenty of the last crop (juar) in stacks; a sight not often seen in these war-trodden plains, and which makes the name, Kanwara, or ‘the land of corn,’ very appropriate. At the village of Aonla, four miles south, we crossed the high road leading from Ujjain through the darra to Hindustan, the large town of Sonel lying three miles to our right.
Jhālrapātan,[[6]] December 12; ten miles; direction, N.N.E.—The road over the same fertile soil. Passed the Chandarbhaga rivulet, the source of which is only two coss distant, and was shown, within range, the isolated hill of Raleta, formerly the retreat of a Bhil community, which sent forth four thousand bowmen to ravage the plains of Malwa: these were extirpated by Zalim Singh.
Jhalrapatan is the creation of the regent; and, as we approached it, his kindness procured me the distinction of being met, a full mile beyond the town, by the chief magistrate, the council, and the most wealthy inhabitants: an honour duly appreciated, this being the only town in India possessing the germs of civil liberty, in the power of framing their own municipal regulations. This is the more remarkable, as the immunities of their commercial charter were granted by the most despotic ruler of India; though the boon was not a concession to liberty, but an act of policy; it was [729] given for value received, or at least expected, and which has been amply realized. Having exchanged salutations, and promised a more extended courtesy at my tents in the evening, we took advantage of the town being thinned, and passed in under a general discharge of ordnance from the ramparts. The city is nearly a square, surrounded by a substantial wall and bastions, well furnished with cannon. The ground plan is simple, being that of the Indian Chaupan or cross, with two main streets intersecting each other at right angles, and many smaller ones running parallel to them. The main street is from south to north. We proceeded through this Bara Bazar until we reached the point of intersection, where, upon a broad terrace, stands a temple to Chaturbhuja, the ‘four-armed’ god, at least ninety feet in height. The marble dome and colonnaded mandap, and the general proportions of the structure, attracted my attention; but having been recently repaired and coated with white, I passed it by, conceiving it to be modern, and not likely to furnish historical data. From thence to the northern gate is a range, on either side, of houses of a uniform structure, having a great appearance of comfort; and the street, which is nearly a mile long, terminates with a temple erected by the regent to his favourite divinity, Dwarkanath. The image here enshrined was ploughed up from the ruins of the ancient city, and carried to the regent at Kotah, who, leaving to the choice of the god the title under which, and the site where, he would be worshipped, his various names were inscribed and placed under the pedestal; the priest drew forth that of Gopalji, and a magnificent shrine was erected to him upon the bank of one of the finest lakes in India, the waters of which, raised by an artificial dam, could be made to environ it at pleasure.
In a street to the north, and parallel to the first, but as yet incomplete, is a handsome temple, dedicated to the sixteenth Jain prophet. This also, I afterwards discovered, was an antique structure, recently repaired, and one of the hundred and eight temples, the bells of which sounded in the ancient city; whence its name Jhalrapatan, or ‘the city of bells,’ and not, as erroneously stated hitherto, from the tribe of the regent, Jhalara-patan, or ‘city of the Jhala’;[[7]] ignorance of which fact made me pass over the temples, under the supposition that they were coeval with its modern foundation. I stopped for a few moments at the mansion of the chief magistrate, Sah Maniram, and having expressed my admiration of all I had seen, and my hope that the prosperity of the city would redouble under his paternal care in these days of peace, I made my salaam and took leave. Opposite his house, engraved on a [730] pillar of stone, is the charter of rights of the city.[[8]] Its simplicity will excite a smile; but the philosopher may trace in it the first rudiments of that commercial greatness, which made the free cities of Europe the instruments of general liberty. Few of these had their privileges so thoroughly defined, or so scrupulously observed; and the motive which brought the community together was the surest guarantee against their infringement. A state of general war made them congregate, and was the origin of these immunities, which the existing peace and tranquillity will perpetuate. Any want of good faith would be the destruction of Patan.