A Holiday in the Happy Valley with Pen and Pencil Part 27

Alas! his sacrifice was in vain. The Chondawat chief was already in Ontala.

First of the stormers with scaling-ladders, he was shot dead by the defenders ere reaching the top of the rampart, and his corpse fell back among his dismayed followers. Then the chief of Deogurh, rolling the body in his scarf, tied it upon his back, fought his way to the crest of the battlements, and hurled the gory body of his chieftain into the city, shouting, "The vanguard to the Chondawat!"

It is further told how, when the attack began, two Mogul chiefs of note were engaged within upon a game of chess. Confident of the strength of the defence, they continued their game, unheeding the din of battle. Suddenly the foe broke in upon them, upon which they calmly asked for leave to finish their interesting match. The request was granted by the courtly Rajputs, but upon its termination they were both put to death.

Udaipur lies in a well-cultivated basin, shut in by a ring of arid hills.

After skirting the flanks of some of the outlying spurs, we bustled through a tunnel and drew up at a bright little station, draped with great blue and pink convolvulus. And this was Udaipur.

We were picked out of the usual jabbering, jostling, gibbering crowd of natives by our host, who, looking most enviably cool and clean, took his heated, dishevelled, and unbarbered guests off to a comfortable carriage, and we were quickly sped towards tiffin and a bath.

The station is a long way from the town, as the Maharana, a most staunch conservative of the old school, having the railway more or less forced upon him, drew the line at three miles from his capital, and fixed the terminus there. One cannot help being glad that the prosaic steam-engine, crowned with foul smoke and heralded by ear-piercing whistles, has not been allowed to trespa.s.s in Udaipur, wherein no discordant note is struck by train line or factory chimney, and where everything and every one is as when the city was newly built on the final abandonment of Chitor, the ancient capital of Mewar.

Here in the heart of the most conservative of native States, whose ruler, the Maharana, Sir Fateh Singh, claims descent from that ancient luminary the Sun, we found novelty and interest in every yard of the three miles that stretch between the station and the capital. The scrub-covered desert has given place to a wooded and cultivated valley, ringed by a chain of hills, sterile and steep. The white ribbon of the road, through whose dust plough stolid buffaloes and strings of creaking bullock-carts, is bordered by tall cactus and yellow-flowered mimosa on either side. Among the trees rise countless half-ruined temples and chatries; on whose whitewashed walls are frequent frescoes of tigers or elephants rampant, and of wonderful Rajput heroes wearing the curious bell-shaped skirt, which was their distinctive dress.

The people too, their descendants, who crowd the road to-day, are remarkable--the men fine-looking, with beards brushed ferociously upwards, and all but the mere peasants carrying swords; the women, dark-eyed, and singularly graceful in their red or orange saris, and very full bell-shaped petticoats. Upright as darts, they walk with slightly swaying gesture, a slender brown arm upraised to support the big bra.s.s chatties on their heads, revealing an incredible collection of bangles on arms and ankles. These women are the descendants of those who, in the stormy days of the sixteenth century, while the Rajput princes still struggled heroically with the all-powerful Mogul emperors, preferred death to shame, and, led by Kurnavati (mother of Oodi Singh, the founder of Udaipur), accepted the "Johur," or death by fire and suffocation, to the number of 13,000, while their husbands and brothers threw open the city gates and went forth to fight and fall.

As we drew near our destination the towers of the Maharana's Palace rose up above the trees, gleaming snowy in the cloudless blue. The brown crenellated walls of the city appeared on our left, and, suddenly sweeping round a curve, we found ourselves by the border of a lovely lake, whose blue-rippled waters lapped the very walls of the town. In the foreground a glorious note of colour was struck by a group of "scarlet women" washing themselves and their clothes by the margin.

Up a steep incline, and we found ourselves before a verandah, blazing overhead with bougainvillea, and our hostess waiting to receive us beneath its cool shade.

In the afternoon, refreshed and rested, we went down to the sh.o.r.e, where our host had arranged for a state-owned boat and four rowers to be in waiting. Armed with rods and fishing tackle, we proceeded to see Udaipur from the lake which washes its northern side. First crossing a small landlocked bay bordered on the left by a long and picturesque crenellated wall, and pa.s.sing through a narrow opening, we found ourselves in a second division of the water; on the left, still the wall, with a delightful-looking summer-house perched at a salient angle; on the right, small wooded islands, the haunt of innumerable cormorants, who, with snaky necks outstretched, watched us suspiciously from their eyrie.

A curious white bridge, very high in the centre, barred the view of the main lake till, pa.s.sing through the central arch, we found ourselves in a scene of perfect enchantment. Before us the level sheet of molten silver lay spread, reflecting the snowy palaces and summer-houses that stood amid the palms and greenery of many tiny islands. On the left the city rose from the water in a succession of temples and wide-terraced buildings, culminating in the lofty pile of the Palace of the Maharana. Here, on this enchanted lake, we rowed to and fro until the sun sank swiftly in the west and the red gold glowed on temple and turret.

Then, with our catch, about 15 lbs. weight of most excellent fish, we rowed back past the white city to the landing-place, and, in the gathering dark, climbed the hillock upon which stood our host's bungalow.

We spent a week at Udaipur--a happy week, whose short days flew by far too quickly. The weather was splendid; hot in the middle of the day--for the season is late, and the monsoon has greatly failed in its cooling duty--but delightful in morning and evening.

Rising one morning at early dawn, before the sun leaped above the eastern hills, we took boat and rowed to one of the island palaces, where, after fishing for mahseer, we breakfasted on a marble balcony overlooking the ripples of the Pichola Lake, which lapped the feet of a group of great marble elephants.

Not the least interesting expedition was to the south end of the lake one afternoon to see the wild pigs fed. Traversing the whole length of the Pichola, past the marble ghats where the crimson-clad women washed and chattered, while above them rose the roofs and temple domes of the fairy city culminating in the walls and pinnacles of the palace--past the fleet of queer green barges wherein the Maharana disports himself when aquatically inclined, we left the many islands marble-crowned on our right; and finally landed at a little jutting ledge of rock, whence a jungle track led us in a few minutes to a terrace overlooking a rocky and steep slope which fell away from the building near which we stood. The scene was surprising! Hundreds of swine of all sorts and sizes, from grim slab-sided, gaunt-headed old boars, whose ancient tusks showed menacing, to the liveliest and sprightliest of little pigs playing hide-and-seek among their staid relatives, were collected from the neighbouring jungle to scramble for the daily dole of grain spread for them by the Maharana.

A cloud of dust rose thick in the air, stirred up by the busy feet and snouts of the mult.i.tude, and grunts and squeals were loud and frequent as a frisky party of younglings in their play would heedlessly b.u.mp up against some short-tempered old boar, who in his turn would angrily b.u.t.t a too venturesome rival in the wind and send him, expostulating noisily, down the hill!

Beyond the crowd of swine on the edge of the clearing, a few peac.o.c.ks, attracted by the prospect of a meal, held themselves strictly aloof from the vulgar herd.

The whole city of Udaipur is a paradise for the artist--not a corner, not a creature which does not seem to cry aloud to be painted. The only difficulty in such _embarras de richesses_ of subject and such scantiness of time, is to decide what not to do.

Hardly has the enthusiastic amateur sat down to delineate the stately pile of the palace, soaring aloft amid its enveloping greenery, than he is attracted by a fascinating glimpse of the lake, where, perhaps, a royal elephant comes down to drink, or a crimson-clad bevy of Rajputni la.s.ses stoop to fill their brazen chatties with much chatter and laughter.

Bewildered by such wealth of subject, one is but too apt to sit at gaze, and finally go home with merely a dozen pages of scribbles added to the little canvas jotting-book!

The Palace of the Maharana is a very splendid pile of buildings, as seen from some little distance crowning the ridge which rises to the south of the lake, but it loses much of its beauty when closely viewed. It is, of course, not to be compared architecturally with the master-works of Agra and Delhi, and the internal decorations are usually tawdry and uninteresting. The entrance is fine; the visitor ascends the steep street to the princ.i.p.al gate, a ma.s.sive portal, strengthened against the battering of elephants by huge spikes, and decorated by a pair of these animals in fresco-rampant. Beyond the first gate rises a second or inner gate. On the right are huge stables where the royal elephants are kept, and on the left stand a row of curious arches, beneath one of which the Maharanas of old were wont to be weighed against bullion after a victory, the equivalent to the royal avoirdupois being distributed as largesse to his people!

Within the gates, a long and wide terrace stretches along the entire front of the Palace, on the face of which is emblazoned the Sun of Mewar, the emblem of the Sesodias. This terrace was evidently the happy home of a great number of cows, peac.o.c.ks, geese, and pigeons, which stalked calmly enough, among the motley crowd of natives, and gave one the impression of a glorified farmyard. The building itself, like most Indian palaces, is composed of a heterogeneous agglomeration in all sorts of sizes and styles.

Each successive Maharana having apparently added a bit here and a bit there as his capricious fancy prompted.

Jane visited the armoury to-day with the Resident, who went to choose a shield to be presented by the Maharana to the Victoria Museum at Calcutta.

I chose to go sketching, and was derided by Jane for missing such a chance of seeing what is not shown to visitors as a rule. She whisked away in great pomp in the Residential chariot, preceded by two prancing sowars on horseback, and subsequently thus related her experiences:--

"We really drove up far too fast to the Palace, I was so much interested in the delightful streets; and we just whizzed past the innumerable shrines and queer shops, and frescoed walls, where extraordinary lions and tigers, and Rajput warriors, riding in wide petticoats on prancing steeds, were depicted in flaming colours. I wanted, too, to gaze at the native women, in their accordion-pleated, dancing frocks of crimson or dark blue; but it seemed to be the correct thing for a 'Personage' to drive as fast as possible, and try to run over a few people just to show them what unconsidered trifles they were. Well, we were received at the entrance to the Palace by one of the Prime Ministers. There are two Prime Ministers--one to criticise and frustrate the schemes of the other; the result being, as the Resident remarked, that it is not easy to get any business done. Our Prime Minister was dressed in a coat of royal purple velvet, on his head was wound a big green turban, and round his neck hung a lovely necklet of pearls and emeralds, with a pendant of the same, he had also earrings to match. It was truly pitiful to see such ornaments wasted on a fat old man."

"Going up a narrow and rather steep staircase, we came to a small hall full of retainers of his Highness, waiting until it should please him to appear and breakfast with them, for it is the custom of the Maharana to make that meal a sort of public function. In the middle of the hall reposed a big bull, evidently very much at ease and quite at home!"

"A few more steps brought us to the door of the armoury. This is small and badly arranged, which seems a pity, as there were some lovely things.

Chain armour and inlaid suits lay about the floor in heaps; and we were shown the saddle used by Akbar during the last siege of Chitor. The most remarkable things, however, were the Rajput shields, of which there were some beautiful specimens. They are circular, not large, and made, some of tortoisesh.e.l.l, some of polished hippo hide, &c. One was inlaid with great emeralds, a second had bosses of turquoise, and a really lovely one was inlaid with fine Jaipur enamel in blue and green. There were swords simply encrusted with jewels--one with a hilt of carved crystal; another was a curiously-modelled dog's head in smooth silver, and I noticed a beauty in pale jade. Altogether it was a most fascinating collection, different from, but in its way quite as interesting, as the fine armoury at Madrid."

Thus did Jane triumph over me with her description of what she had seen and what I had missed; and I had been trying to delineate the Temple of Jagganath, and had been disastrously defeated, for it is indeed a complicated piece of drawing, and the children, both large and small, crowded round me to my great hindrance. Therefore, it was not until I had been soothed with an excellent lunch, and the contents of a very long tumbler, that I felt strong enough to take an intelligent interest in the contents of the Maharana's curiosity-shop!

_Monday, October_ 30.--The more we see of Udaipur the more we are charmed with it. The whole place is so absolutely unspoilt by modernism, is so purely Eastern--and ancient Eastern at that--that we feel as though we were in a little world far apart from the great one where steam and electricity shatter the nerves, and drive their victims through life at high pressure.

Ringed in by a rampart of arid hills, beyond which the scrub-covered desert stretches for miles, the peaceful city of Udaipur lies secluded in an oasis, whose centre is a turquoise lake. High in his palace the Maharana rules in feudal state, and, like Aytoun's Scottish Cavalier,

"A thousand va.s.sals dwelt around--all of his kindred they, And not a man of all that clan has ever ceased to pray For the royal race he loves so well."

For to his subjects the Maharana is little less than a divinity, for is he not a direct descendant of the Sun? Likewise is he not the chief of the only royal house of Rajputana, who disdained to purchase Mogul friendship at the price of giving a daughter in marriage to the Mohammedan?

There are greater personages among the ruling Princes of India, according to British ruling--Hyderabad, for instance. And in the matter of precedence and the number of guns for ceremonial salutation, the Chief of Mewar--like other poor but proud n.o.bles--is treated rather according to his actual power than the cloudless blue of his blood. Hence he is extremely unwilling to put himself in a position where he might fail to obtain the honour which he considers due to him. He was most averse from attending the Delhi Durbar, but such pressure was put upon him that he was induced to proceed thither in his special train running, as far as Chitorgarh, upon his own special railway. He reached Delhi, and his sponsors rejoiced that they had indeed got him to the water, although they had not exactly induced him to drink. As a matter of fact, the Maharana, having gone to Delhi to please the British authorities, promptly returned to Udaipur to please himself, alleging a terrific headache as reason for instant departure from the capital, without his having left his very own specially reserved first-cla.s.s compartment!

He may not be a willing guest, but he is evidently disposed to be an excellent host, for great preparations are toward for the reception of the Prince of Wales, who is expected in the course of a fortnight or so.

The Residency, too, is being swept and garnished, the garden already looking like a miniature camp, with tents for the suite all among the flower-beds.

_Tuesday, October_ 31.--A day or two ago we arose betimes, and before sunrise embarked in the State gig (which was always, apparently, placed at our host's disposal on demand), and set forth to catch fish for our breakfast, and then proceed to eat the same on one of the island palaces on the lake. We did not catch many fish--the mahseer were shy that morning--but fortunately we did not entirely depend on the caprices of the mahseer for our sustenance, and a remarkably well-fed and contented quartette we were when we got into the gig while the day was yet young, and rowed home as quickly as might be in order to escape the heat which at noonday is still great.

This afternoon we went for a (to us) novel tea picnic. A State elephant appeared by request, and we climbed upon him with ladders, and he proceeded to roll leisurely along at the rate of about two and a half miles an hour towards the foot of a hill, on the top of which stood a small summer palace.

The afternoon was warm, and the rhythmic pace drowsy, but our steed was determined to amuse us and benefit himself. So he blew great blasts of spray at his own forelegs and chest to cool himself, and now and then made shocking bad shots at so large a target, and, getting a trifle too much elevation, nearly swept us from our lofty perch.

Fortunately his stock of spray gave out ere long, or he found that the increasing gradient of the hill took all his breath, for we were left at leisure to admire the widening view until we reached the top.

Here we had tea in one of the cool halls, and then sat watching the sun sink towards the hills that stretch to Mount Aboo.

To the south-east lay Udaipur, milk-white along the margin of its "marled"

waters.

On our way home we met with an adventure. While prattling to my hostess, I observed that our toes were rising unduly, the saddle or howdah being seated somewhat after the fashion of an outside car. Glancing over my shoulder I descried Jane and her partner far below their proper level. The howdah was coming round, and our steed was eleven feet high! Agonised yells to the gentleman who guided the deliberate steps of the pachyderm from a coign of vantage on the back of his neck, awoke him to an appreciation of the situation. The elephant was "hove to" with all possible despatch, and we crawled off his back with the greatest celerity.

We then sat down by the roadside and superintended the righting of the saddle and the tautening of the girths by several natives, who "took in the slack" with an energy that must have made the poor elephant very "uncomfy" about the waist! I secretly hoped it was hurting him horribly, as I had not forgiven him for his practical jokes on the way up.

We had no more thrills. Resuming our motor 'bus, in due course, we were landed opposite the top of our host's verandah, whereupon the beast shut himself up like a three-foot rule, and we got to ground.

The inexorable flight of time brought us all too soon to the limit of our stay at Udaipur. Early on Wednesday the 1st November, therefore, we bade adieu to the capital of the State of Mewar, and, accompanied by our kind host and hostess, set out to spend a day in exploring the ruined city of Chitor before taking train for Bombay.

As we drove to the station, we pa.s.sed the group of ancient "chatries" or tombs of dead and gone Ranas of Mewar, and halted for a short inspection, as, the train by which we were to travel to Chitorgarh being a "special,"

we were not bound to a precise moment for our appearance on the platform.

Jane, who is perfectly Athenian in her pa.s.sion for novelty, decided to travel on the engine, and proceeded to do so; until, at the first halting-place, a grimy and somewhat dishevelled female climbed into our carriage, and the next half-hour was fully occupied in scooping s.m.u.ts out of her eyes with teaspoons.