Collection of Indian Weapons.
The eyes of the world have been lately turned to the stately progress which has been made by the Prince and Princess of Wales through the length and breadth of our Indian Empire. In a sense they may have had wider and more instructive experiences than fell to the lot of our King when, thirty years ago, he undertook the same Royal duty, and for the first time made the peoples of our great dependency personally acquainted with a Shahzada. But in some respects they have probably found that, since that date, something of the old glamour has passed away from the East. It has more and more assimilated Western ideas, and the great princes and feudatories have all been anxious to show to their future Sovereign how nearly they, their subjects, their armies, and their various public institutions, have approached English models. Practical value has been everywhere in evidence as much as possible, and as the old native picturesqueness has been somewhat dimmed, the ancient characteristics of the land may have been less sharply accentuated. In nothing has this been more seen than in the warlike equipment of the armies of the semi-independent states. All of these, with a view to taking their share in the defence of the peninsula, according to the requirements of modern war, are now trained, equipped and armed like British Sepoys, and the quaint bravery of mediæval sword, spear, shield, and armour has very generally disappeared. It is worth while, therefore, to say something about these time-honoured arms before they have become altogether things of the past.
A quarter of a century ago it was possible to find in India many of the weapons with which the natives had been provided in the days before the Pax Britannica secured the personal security of every individual inhabitant from raid and outrage, before the disarming act had been put in force in all districts under British rule, and while the military forces of semi-independent states still preserved their Oriental character. Now, I am told that, though many weapons may be bought, their genuineness is in most cases more than doubtful. The stock of old weapons has been absorbed in various ways, and there is no longer any production of such things for practical use. The tulwars and daggers which are sold to the globe trotters who, in their thousands, sweep over India during every cold season, are “bazaar made,” i.e., they are made by inferior workmen in the bazaar for sale and not for strife, and are very poor imitations of the real arms once worn by the old fighting men.
When I was serving in India, not long after the King’s visit, the country was still comparatively free from the tourist, and anybody who had a taste for Eastern art in any form was able, during his sporting excursions or in his other peregrinations, to meet men who still owned genuine old articles and were not indisposed to part with them, and made acquaintance with English officials and influential natives who were good-natured enough to assist him in his collections.
Many Europeans did not take advantage of their opportunities, but fortunately for myself I did not altogether neglect mine, and I now reap the reward by seeing, hanging in my modest hall, such a representative display of Indian weapons as it would be very difficult, if not almost impossible, to procure nowadays without the aid of great influence, much exertion, and a very considerable expenditure of money. Many of these weapons have been used by myself and friends in somewhat feeble attempts to emulate the feats performed with them by natives, and I have therefore a slight personal knowledge of their qualities and characteristics, and may at any rate claim that they have always been to me things of the greatest interest.
First let me notice the fact that it is not every Indian sword that can be handled and tested by a European. Our Aryan brethren have very small extremities, and the hilts of their swords do not, as a rule, give space for the more massive and heavily-jointed hand of an Englishman. It seems marvellous indeed how the sometimes ponderous weapons can have been easily wielded by the slight limbs for whose use they were made, but it must be supposed that well-trained wiry sinews may have as much executive power and endurance as bulging muscle, and that the proper method of using the individual weapon may have drawn more upon dexterity than upon the exertion of strength. And here it must be pointed out that, in all specially Oriental feats of arms, success is by no means to be attained by the exertion of great force. It rather depends upon accuracy of eye, perfect coolness of nerve, and deftness of hand. In the particular performance which English soldiers have most eagerly adopted from their Indian comrades and made their own, and has been found such an admirable exercise for promoting horsemanship and soldierly efficiency—tent-pegging—no great strength is required. And, in the same way, the class of swordsmanship for which Indian men-at-arms have been so remarkable is a matter of perfect mastery in handling a blade rather than of weightily applied blows. Probably no more graphic description of the difference which even to-day exists between Eastern and Western swordsmanship was ever written than in the story, in Sir Walter Scott’s “Talisman,” of Richard Cœur de Lion and Saladin giving each other proofs of the powers of their swords. I would fain quote the passage, but it would take up too much space, and I can only suggest that reference be made to it, and, if the whole romance has not before been studied, I congratulate the person who has so much available delight still untasted.
So many spectators have watched, in England, illustrations of tent-pegging at military tournaments and other gatherings that it is unnecessary to describe it, but it may fairly be said that the feat requires a higher form of skill and more consummate horsemanship than the old English exercises of a like nature, tilting at the ring or tilting at the quintain, neither of which appeals either to the performer or to the spectator as an example of very formidable fighting qualities.
The Oriental ideas about the use of the sword differ so completely from those of Western peoples that they may be briefly referred to. In Europe, the sword has generally been used for a trenchant cut, though the employment of the point has also been cultivated by some nations, especially among the higher ranks. About the only army in history that has used the point alone was that of Rome. The legionaries did little or no cutting, and this was the more remarkable because the Roman broadsword was a very short weapon, and all modern experience has seemed to point out that, if a sword is to be principally used for pointing, it must be of more than ordinary length. But, in the East, the trenchant cut, depending for its effect on the weight and power with which it is delivered, has never found favour, and the use of the point has equally been of very small consideration. The Oriental swordsman has always made use of what may be called a drawing cut, placing against the object that he wishes to sever the edge of his weapon, and either pulling it towards him or pushing it away from him, preferably the latter. The action is not, of course, in itself so instantaneous as that of the trenchant cut, but the whole time consumed by the swordsman is no longer in one case than the other, and may even possibly be shorter, for there is no preliminary swing of the arm and the drawing cut can be delivered without leaving a position of defence. The curved shape of most Oriental sword blades has been adopted for the purpose of giving the greatest effect to the drawing cut, as will be apparent to any one who considers the matter, for the curve naturally follows the action in the most complete manner, the keen edge being in contact with its object throughout the whole length of its blade. How deep an Oriental sword could bite in the hands of a skilful man, when used in the way that has been described, has been proved from time immemorial. On the battlefield it was no unfrequent circumstance to see heads and limbs cut clean off, and the wounds were generally of a terrible character. So well known was the deadly power of the Indian sword that, in our Eastern wars, precaution were often taken by our soldiers to protect with chains the shoulder and forearms (the places at which the enemy most often struck), and this modified form of armour may still be seen in the shoulder chains on one of the many patterns of service coat that have been issued to our cavalry in recent years.
Among the most popular feats of swordsmanship that are to be seen even to-day in the East are those that Saladin exhibited to Richard Cœur de Lion, cutting in two a down cushion or severing a floating veil—feats absolutely impossible of execution with a European sabre—and these are done, with many variations, not only dismounted but on horseback at full speed. Then there is the well-known performance of cutting a dead sheep in two. The sheep is hung by its hind-legs from the arm of a sort of gallows, and the swordsman, galloping past, delivers a back cut at it, aiming between the ribs and the haunch, and seldom failing to sever it. This feat, as it is now generally performed, is not so difficult as it may appear from description, for the carcase is skinned, and the backbone, with the slenderest portion of the body, offer really small resistance to a keen blade. But it is understood that, in olden days, it was not usual to skin the sheep, and the presence of skin and wool must then have made the swordsman’s task hard indeed. Many English officers have, with fair success, tried to cut a sheep in two, but, even though they used the curved Eastern sword, they always seemed to perform the feat by main force, and not by the proper use of the drawing cut, and I have in my possession a tulwar with a notch in the blade, showing where, in the hands of a very powerful man, it rent a sheep’s backbone. If a native had handled the weapon no such accident could have happened, for the drawing cut, depending only on the keen edge and the way in which it is applied, could not possibly have chipped the blade, no sudden shock being given by it to the highly-tempered steel. Lemoncutting, which is now often seen in England, was introduced from India, and here again neatness of performance is much more likely to be attained by the drawing cut than by the swashing blow employed by so many of our cavalrymen. True, the swords generally available for our competitions at home are hardly ever sharp enough to be used in the best way, and indeed the clumsy weapon now issued to English soldiers, with its absurd steel scabbard that quickly blunts a keen edge, is ill adapted for any practical purpose whatever.
So far, I have only talked about the most common and characteristic swords of India, which, with many minor distinctions and under the names of Tulwar, Selappa, Tegha, &c., &c., are found everywhere from Cape Comorin to the Himalayas, but there are several other swords, completely different, which are peculiar to individual tribes or nations among the vast congeries of races united under British rule or influence. First, the long, straight, double-edged blade, fitted into a gauntlet hilt which, though found in the north and south of India, is best known in the Punjab, where the Sikhs, in their sword play, still practise its use. The generic name of this sword is Pata, and it is said to have been the principal weapon used by the cavalry of the Great Mogul. To a European eye, it certainly appears a somewhat unwieldy weapon and ill-adapted to the purposes of a mounted man. Its blade is over three feet long, and it is fixed in a handle made like a plate mail gauntlet, which covers the arm nearly as far as the elbow. On account of its peculiar hilt, this sword is not manipulated like others from the wrist, but from the elbow; and, as far as I know, it is the only weapon known in the world which does not in some degree demand flexibility of wrist. Unlike the curved Tulwar, which has a rigid and rather narrow blade, the blade of the Pata is broad and flexible, and I have one specimen before me in which the point will almost meet the hilt. The qualities of steel from which the two kinds of swords are made are in this respect very different, but they are alike in that both can take the finest of edges. And all Eastern swords have this also in common, that all have wooden or leather sheaths, so that no risk is run that the edge of the blade shall ever be dulled from want of care. To-day, the Pata is never carried by Indian princes or nobles, even on occasions of state and ceremony, and it is never seen in the hands of anybody except the professional swordsmen, who give exhibitions of their skill at the great fairs and at Mohammedan or Hindoo festivals, such as the Mohurrum or the Dussera. The performances of any one of these men are wonderful. He will show the keenness of his weapon and his command of its weight by cutting in two a leaf laid flat on the outstretched palm of a friend, or by severing a cloth hanging loose in the air. He will then squat down on his hams and will slice from side to side a small nut, which is tossed on to the flat ground in front of him. He will grasp a sword in each hand and, so armed, will spring from his feet and throw somersaults backwards and forwards. Again, with sword and shield in his hands, he will leap head foremost through the stretched-out loop of a rope, held by two men at the height of their heads, as a circus-rider leaps through a paper hoop, and alight safely on his feet. These exhibitions are extremely popular, and the harvest of small change collected by the plucky athlete from the crowd of gaping spectators must do something to prevent the knowledge of the old sword-play from dying out. I have never seen or heard of a European essaying to handle the Pata, and, indeed, I have seldom seen a Pata whose gauntlet hilt would admit the grasp of even a small European hand.
Another straight-bladed and double-edged sword is the Khanda of the Rajput, and as the Rajputs are the most long-descended, chivalrous, and warlike of all the nations in India, so was the Khanda held in the highest honour and reverence, so was it worshipped yearly at the festival of the Karga S’hapna as a symbol of Heri, the god of battle, and so was an oath sworn upon it the most binding of compacts. Even to-day the Khanda, or indeed any sword, is recognised as an offering showing the profoundest homage and the strictest fidelity, by the universal Indian custom of presenting the hilt to a superior, who touches it in acknowledgment of the implied loyalty. The Khanda, like the Pata, is made of flexible steel of various degrees of excellence, though all blades are of the most reliable description. A rough test may be given, by which the merit of any particular straight blade may be approximately gauged. If it has one groove running down its length, it is good; if it has two, it is better, and if it has three, it is of special worth. Sometimes the Khanda has a long iron spike projecting from the hilt, and this was probably for the purpose of using the sword double-handed in case of need, and it could possibly also serve as an additional weapon in a close mêlée. It is to be remarked that, in using the Pata, Khanda, and other straight swords, the drawing cut is still the favourite, though the form of the blade involves that it must be somewhat modified.
Pass we to a class of swords which demand special remark, on account of their appropriateness to the districts in which they have originated, and of these there are two especially which attract our notice as being essentially the same in character, though they differ somewhat in shape. The Kukri, the national weapon of Nepal, is only eighteen or nineteen inches in total length, and has a blade of bright steel, incurved, heavy, and widening towards the point. It has more the qualities of a good billhook than anything else, and it was no doubt originally devised to do duty as a billhook as much as for fighting purposes, for the Gorkha had to clear his way through the thickly growing vegetation of the Terai forests. I have often lent to my shikaris, when shooting in the Western Ghauts, a Kukri for use in the jungle, and it always proved invaluable. What a handy tool it is in the grasp of its true proprietor, the Gorkha, is well known—how formidable it is as a weapon, those who have been in action with our Gorkha battalions can emphatically testify, and this can be the more clearly realised when it is told that, with his Kukri, the Gorkha can strike off the head of a bullock at one blow.
Like the Gorkha Kukri, the Ayda Katti, the big knife of the Coorg mountaineer, derives its shape from the daily requirements of life in dense jungles. The heavy monsoon clouds which, in their course, first meet and void their moisture on the hilly west coast of India, nourish an extraordinarily luxuriant vegetation, and the tribesmen there found the constant want of an implement to cut a path through the lush bamboos and creepers. The Coorg knife is about the same size as the Kukri, but is wider and heavier. It has also an incurved blade, and is equally useful for all the services of peace. The men of Coorg have had no recent experience of war, but legend tells that, sword in hand, they were in old days dreaded for their prowess in battle. The army of Hyder Ali found the Nairs (Coorg tribesmen) the most redoubtable opponents that it had to deal with before it had the ill-fortune to be marched against British battalions. The Coorg knife has the peculiarity that it alone, of all varieties of swords, never has a sheath. It is so constantly required on the west coast that it is generally carried in the hand ready for immediate use. When, of necessity, it is put aside, it is carried, still with the blade uncovered, slung across the owner’s hips.
No record of Indian swords would be complete without some mention of the Salawar Yataghan, the Khyber or Afghan knife, though perhaps it more properly belongs to the frontier. This is the weapon that in the hands of the Ghazis, drunk with bhang and lust of slaughter, has, in the actions on the North-West Frontier, done such stern work, and has also been signalised as the terrible instrument with which the wounded, who fell into Afghan hands, have ever been bloodily dispatched and mutilated. It has a broad, heavy, single-edged, straight-backed blade with a sharp point, and is so balanced that its trenchant cut is weighty indeed.
The Afghan gives no drawing cut with his Yataghan, but cuts like a European and, on occasion, uses the point. The weapon seems to be especially devised for the use of desperate men who wish to kill, without any thought of protecting themselves, for its handle being absolutely plain and unguarded like that of an ordinary carving knife, it can never be used effectively for warding a blow or parrying a thrust. The blade is generally about two feet and two or three inches long, and, made of bright steel, seems to derive its strength from its proportions and its thickness rather than from high temper. The Salawar Yataghan cannot be classed as a weapon adapted to any of the scientific niceties of swordsmanship, but must be thought of rather as a murderous knife, fit alone for purposes of slaughter.
There are other forms of swords to be found on the frontiers of India, the Burmese Dha, the Malay Kris, &c., &c., but none of them have any special merit as warlike weapons, and they are really almost impotent for attack or defence when opposed to the more well-considered weapons of more cultivated peoples. All of them have their limitations of value; they can inflict injury, but from their form they are essentially feeble in defence.
It was natural that swords, in their hilts, their blades and their sheaths, should, from the variety and general elegance of their shapes, have been the basis of ornament to a very great extent. The Monarch, the great Prince, or the warlike leader of men has, if he allowed himself ornament at all (and here be it remarked that the most potent individuals have almost always been remarkable for their personal simplicity), generally lavished such ornament upon his sword, the emblem of his power. And when he sent a gift to a brother potentate, or a man whom he delighted to honour, it was not infrequently a sword of the most perfect quality, adorned with jewels and workmanship of notable value. The ornamentation of swords gives to us a strongly-marked and trustworthy indication of the religion and often of the nationality of the men who fashioned them. There is as much difference between the artistic ideas of the north and south of India as there is between the delicate and graceful architecture of the great Mohammedan shrines and palaces, and the heavy, massive and sometimes grotesque construction of the old Hindoo temples. To enter into all the peculiarities of ornament would take too long, but it may shortly be said that, bearing in mind that it is contrary to the Prophets’ law to reproduce the similitude of any living thing, a sword ornamented with delicate tracery and a floral pattern may generally be supposed to come from a Mohammedan race in the North, while one bearing representations of men, beasts or birds, has probably been made in the Brahminical South.
All kinds of materials have been used in ornamenting swords. Besides precious jewels, gold and silver, a place has been found for Jaipur enamel, Koftgari work, Bidri work, &c., &c., and all means have been taken to add to artistic beauty, contrast of colour and intrinsic value. If any one would see how rich is the effect thus produced, let him take an opportunity of visiting one of our great national collections, those places full of articles worthy to be “stored in some treasure-house of mighty kings.”
There is one most invaluable quality in which all Eastern swords are well-nigh perfect. They are all most admirably balanced and can all be most effectively employed with the minimum of personal exertion. To appreciate this transcendent quality at its proper value, it is only necessary to handle an English cavalry sword, which is as much lacking in true balance as any Indian sword possesses that most essential character. The West has still some lessons to learn from the immemorial East.
To talk of the swords only of India has exhausted all my space, and yet but a very meagre sketch has been accomplished. Perhaps what has been written may, however, induce some reader to make an exhaustive study of the subject. He would surely be rewarded by learning much that is of the highest artistic, historical and practical value.
The other weapons of India, and there are many, are of nearly, if not quite, equal interest. Perhaps I may some day be allowed to say something about them.