James Tod Quotes

“…To Iletmish we owe some of the finest Muslim works in India. The Arhai din ka-Jhopra began by Qutab al-Din in AD 1198-99, was also completed by him. Tod had said of it that it was ‘one of the most perfect as well as the most ancient monuments of Hindu architecture’, on the evidence of certain four-armed figures to be seen on the pillars…

This image, which was one of the penates of a former age, and which since the destruction of the shrines of Krishna by the Islamites, had lain in the Yamuna, attached itself to the sacerdotal zone of high priest Balba, while he was performing ablutions, who, carrying it home, placed it ina niche of the temple and worshipped it and Nonanda yet receives the peculiar homage of the high priest and his family as their household divinity (Tod Vol. I 1920: 272).

The temple of Vrishabdeva stands isolated in the center of a quadrangular court, the length of which, from east to west, is about one hundred and eighty feet, and the breadth one hundred feet. Along its internal faces are ranges of cells, nineteen on the larger, and ten on each of the smaller sides, each cell being of uniform dimensions…. The whole is of pure white marble, every column, dome, and altar varying in form and ornament, the richness and delicacy of execution being indescribable. Each of the fifty-eight cells merits an entire day’s study, and a first-rate pencil to delineate it. It is asserted that each separate cell was added by wealthy individuals, of various cities and countries, professing the Jain faith, which may account for the great diversity of style and ornament, while the harmony and symmetry of the whole attest that one master-mind must have planned and executed it, except at the south-west angle, where some dissimilarity prevails. The altars are of a chaste and simple design, while money, labour, skill, and taste, have been lavished on the details of the colonnade, wherein each of the columnar rules of Jain architecture has its example. Each cell contains its statue decided to the particular object of worship of the person at whose expense it was raised, and inscriptions recording the period of erection are carved on the inner lintel of every doorway…

In Tod’s description, the ‘Marusthali’, as it was then called, consists of ‘expansive belts of sand, elevated upon a plain only less sandy, and over whose surface numerous thinly peopled towns and hamlets are scattered’. He also records ‘the tradition of the absorption of the Caggar river, as one of the causes of the comparative depopulation of the northern desert’. This tradition was transmitted in the form of a ‘couplet still sung among Rajputs, which dates the ruin of this part of the country back to the drying up of the Hakra.’ Although Tod could not recall the exact text of the said song, he acknowledged ‘the utility of these ancient traditional couplets’. ‘Folk history’, as we would call it today... Yet, James Tod finds worthy of mention a tradition alive in the 1810s that blames the region’s ‘depopulation’ on the Ghaggar’s ‘absorption’ or disappearance; he even notes how ‘the vestiges of large towns, now buried in the sands, confirm the truth of this tradition, and several of them claim a high antiquity.

What nation on earth could have maintained the semblance of civilization, the spirit or the customs of their forefathers, during so many centuries of overwhelming depression, but one of such singular character as the Rajpoot? . . . Rajast’han exhibits the sole example in the history of mankind, of a people withstanding every outrage barbarity could inflict, or human nature sustain, from a foe whose religion commands annihilation; and bent to the earth, yet rising buoyant from the pressure, and making calamity a whetstone to courage. . . . Not an iota of their religion or customs have they lost. . .

Those who expect from a people like the Hindus a species of composition of precisely the same character as the historical works of Greece and Rome, commit the very egregious error of overlooking the peculiarities which distinguish the natives of India from all other races, and which strongly discriminate their intellectual productions of every kind from those of the West. Their philosophy, their poetry, their architecture, are marked with traits of originality; and the same may be expected to pervade their history, which, like the arts enumerated, took a character from its intimate association with the religion of the people. It must be recollected, moreover, that until a more correct taste was imparted to the literature of England and of France, by the study of classical models, the chronicles of both these countries, and indeed of all the polished nations of Europe, were, at a much more recent date, as crude, as wild, and as barren as those of the early Rajputs.

To the drying up of the Hakra, or Gliaggar, many centuries ago, in conjunction with moral evils, is ascribed the existing desolation. According to tradition, this stream took a westerly direction, by Phidra, where it is yet to be traced, and fell into the Indus below Uchh. The couplet recording its absorption by the sands of Ner has already been given, in the time of Rao Hamir, prince of Dhat. If the next European traveller who may pass through the Indian desert will seek out the representative of the ancient Sodha princes at Chor, near Umarkot, he may learn from their bard (if they retain such an appendage) the date of this prince, and that of so important an event in the physical and political history of their regions. The vestiges of large towns, now buried in the sands, confirm the truth of this tradition, and several of them claim a high antiquity ; such as the Rangmahall, already mentioned, west of Bhatner, having subterranean apartments still ill good preservation. An aged native of Daudusar (twenty- five miles south of Bhatner) replied, to my inquiry as to the recollections attached to this place, that “ it belonged to a Panwar prince who ruled once all these regions, when Sikandar Riimi attacked them.”

Often was Partap heard to exclaim, “Had Udai Singh never been, or none intervened between him and Sanga Rana, no Turk should ever have given laws to Rajasthan.” Hindu society had assumed a new form within the century preceding: the wrecks of dominion from the Jumna and Ganges had been silently growing into importance; and Amber and Marwar had attained such power, that the latter single-handed coped with the imperial Sher Shah; while numerous minor chieftainships were attaining shape and strength on both sides the Chambal. A prince of commanding genius alone was wanting, to snatch the sceptre of dominion from the Islamite. Such a leader they found in Sanga, who possessed every quality which extorts spontaneous obedience, and the superiority of whose birth, as well as dignity, were admitted without cavil, from the Himalaya to Rameswaram.

Thus, taking an average of the whole, we may consider fifty-five princes to be the number of descents from Budha to Krishna and Yudhishthira; and, admitting an average of twenty years for each reign, a period of eleven hundred years; which being added to a like period calculated from thence to Vikramaditya, who reigned fifty-six years before Christ, I venture to place the establishment in India Proper of these two grand races, distinctively called those of Surya and Chandra, at about 2256 years before the Christian era; at which period, though somewhat later, the Egyptian, Chinese, and Assyrian monarchies are generally stated to have been established, and about a century and a half after that great event, the Flood.

…Let the reader discard his shoes, and prepare to enter with me the sacred fanes of Dailwara. This is a contraction of Dewulwarra, ‘the place or region of temples,’ a term aptly applied to the site of this numerous group, from which I select two of the most remarkable. The reader will be pleased to consider himself at the entrance of the shrine sacred to Vrishabdeva, the first of the Jains. Beyond controversy this is the most superb of all the temples of India, and there is not an edifice besides the Mahal that can approach to it. The pen is incompetent to describe the exuberant beauties of this proud monument of the Jains, raised by one of the richest of their votaries (by whose name, and not that of the pontiff enshrined within, it is still designated), and which continues to attract pilgrims from every region of India. Bimul Shah, whose work has immortalized him, was a merchant of Anhulwarra, at one time the Tyre of India, and the ancient stronghold of the Jain faith. It was, however, towards the close of her long career of renown, that these two edifices were erected and happily for these votaries of Jainism, who, to use the words of the bard, “exchanged their perishable wealth for an immortal name,” for hardly were the fabrics reared, when the metropolis of Western India was sacked, its merchants driven forth, and their riches transferred to the Northern Invader. Previous to their erection, the immediate spot was occupied by the orthodox divinities, Siva and Vishnu, whose ministers would not tolerate the approach of any of the sectarian enemies of their faith; but the Sahoos of Nehrwalla, giving this the preference over any other site on the surface of Aboo, determined to try the effect of gold on the sovereign, or, as they allegorically say, “Lacshmi herself entered into the scheme, to gain a victory for their faith.” The bribe was high, they offered to cover as much ground as they required for their purpose with silver coin, – a temptation too powerful for the Pramara to withstand, – and, despite the anathema of the priests of Bal-Siva and Vishnu, he took the lacs of the Jain merchants. The name of the prince is not mentioned, but the date of the temples shews him to be the same sacrilegious Dharaburz, who attempted to inundate the Khar of Sacti. The merchants were not ungrateful of Lacshmi, whom they enshrined in a niche on the right hand of the entrance.

Behold me in the vestibule of Somnat’h, the far-famed shrine of idolatry which lured “the star of Islam” from its orbit amidst the Paropamisan and Caucasus, to the sandy shores of the Indian ocean within the torrid zone; and though now but the shell of what it was, though denuded of its sikra (pinnacle), whose fragments strew the ground, divested of its majestic superstructure, and but the trunk of a once perfect form, yet from its wrecks we may judge of its pristine character. That so much has been spared, we owe to that excess of zeal, which made conquest incomplete without conversion; which transformed the mindra into the mosque, and the altar of the sun-god into a pulpit for the Moollah, whence, while yet reeking with blood, the song of victory resounded amid shouts of ‘La Illah, Mahomed Rusool Illahi,’ ‘There is but one God, and Mahomed is his prophet.’ But without is another symbol of conversion, the pinnacled minarets at the entrance of the temple, the handiwork of the Mooslem artificer, whence the Muezzin of Mahmoud called aloud on the soldiers of the Faith to give glory to God and his prophet, for the victory obtained over the infidel. Could we be assured that any spark of genuine taste and liberal feeling induced him to spare even this mutilated remnant of the days of old, we might try to veil the barbarities inflicted in the name of religion, under the spirit of chivalry which braved the varied perils encountered in her cause; for this, the twelfth expedition of Mahmoud, must be ranked amongst the hardiest enterprises which frenzied ambition, under the cloak of sanctity, ever undertook…

From the shrine of the god of light, I descended to that of Sideswar, the god of the monastic orders, obscurely buried in an excavation of the rock, dismal and damp, the low roof supported by a few crumbling columns. One might fancy this the cave of Delphos, though the perceptions of our blind oracle proved far more acute than those of most of his brethren. However rudely executed, all was strictly characteristic of “hell’s dark abode.” Besides statues of Hinglaz Mata, and Patal-eswar, ‘lord of the infernal regions,’ there were nine small figures in high relief, carved on the frieze of a miniature shrine, said by the blind minister to be “the images of those who rule the destiny of man.” There was a small square court in front of the cave, whose walls have been repaired or constructed out of the ruins of other temples, having fragments of the gods in every attitude. It is shaded by some fine Burr trees, which are sacred to Siva. Although there is nothing attractive here, yet whoever is conversant with mythology will be struck, not only by the classical nature of the cave-temple, but by the perfect contrast it exhibits between the powers of light and darkness, in juxtaposition, and the rapid transition of the votary from the one to the other. The spot where Krishna resigned his breath From this cave I proceeded to a spot, deemed by the Hindu the holiest of the holy, where the shepherd-god resigned his breath.… A Peepul sapling, averred to be “a scion of the original tree,” marks the spot where the Hindu Apollo expired, and a flight of steps conducts to the bed of the ‘golden’ Hiranya, for the pilgrim to lustrate himself. This place of purification bears the name of Swergadwara, or ‘door of bliss,’ and contends with that of Deva-puttun for superior efficacy in absolving from sin. It is adorned by two beautiful reservoirs, called the Bhalca and Padma-coondas, the ‘dart and lotus fountains.’ The former is a dodecahedron, whose diameter is about three hundred feet. The lotus-coond is smaller, having its surface covered with this elegant flower, sacred to Kanya [Lord Krishna], and whence his most euphonous appellation, Comala, is derived; while on its eastern bank there is a small shrine to Mahadeo. These fountains are peculiarly sacred in the eyes of the followers of the shepherd-god, and were so in Akber’s time; for Abulfazil devotes some space to the holy pilgrimages of Peepulsirr and Bhalcateerut (bhal, ‘a dart’). Mooslmen intolerance is strikingly obvious in the erection of a place of prayer touching the consecrated Peepul, and although the government of these regions has now long been under Hindu princes of strong religious zeal, the offensive Musjid remains undisturbed, furnishing a powerful contrast between the amiable endurance of the one, and the bigotry of the other faith…

But the magnitude of the peril confirmed the fortitude of Partap, who vowed, in the words of the bard, “to make his mother’s milk resplendent”; and he amply redeemed his pledge. Single-handed, for a quarter of a century did he withstand the combined efforts of the empire; at one time carrying destruction into the plains, at another flying from rock to rock, feeding his family from the fruits of his native hills, and rearing the nursling hero Amra, amidst savage beasts and scarce less savage men, a fit heir to his prowess and revenge. The bare idea that “the son of Bappa Rawal should bow the head to mortal man,” was insupportable; and he spurned every overture which had submission for its basis, or the degradation of uniting his family by marriage with the Tatar, though lord of countless multitudes. The brilliant acts he achieved during that period live in every valley; they are enshrined in the heart of every true Rajput, and many are recorded in the annals of the conquerors. To recount them all, or relate the hardships he sustained, would be to pen what they would pronounce a romance who had not traversed the country where tradition is yet eloquent with his exploits, or conversed with the descendants of his chiefs, who cherish a recollection of the deeds of their forefathers, and melt, as they recite them, into manly tears. Partap was nobly supported; and though wealth and fortune tempted the fidelity of his chiefs, not one was found base enough to abandon him.

Where can we look for sages like those whose systems of philosophy were prototypes of those of Greece: to whose works Plato, Thales & Pythagoras were disciples? Where do I find astronomers whose knowledge of planetary systems 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 smile with the change of modes and varied intonation?

It is worthy the attention of those who influence the destinies of States in more favoured climes, to estimate the intensity of feeling which could arm this prince to oppose the resources of a small principality against the then most powerful empire of the world, whose armies were more numerous and far more efficient than any ever led by the Persian against the liberties of Greece. Had Mewar possessed her Thucydides or her Xenophon, neither the wars of the Peloponnesus nor the retreat of the ‘ten thousand’ would have yielded more diversified incidents for the historic muse, than the deeds of this brilliant reign amid the many vicissitudes of Mewar. Undaunted heroism, inflexible fortitude, that which ‘keeps honour bright,’ perseverance,—with fidelity such as no nation can boast, were the materials opposed to a soaring ambition, commanding talents, unlimited means, and the fervour of religious zeal; all, however, insufficient to contend with one unconquerable mind. There is not a pass in the alpine Aravalli that is not sanctified by some deed of Partap,—some brilliant victory or, oftener, more glorious defeat. Haldighat is the Thermopylae of Mewar; the field of Dawer her Marathon.