Sheodān Singh. Music.—The Maharaja Sheodan Singh (whose family are heirs presumptive to the throne) was one of my constant visitors; and the title of ‘adopted brother,’ which he conferred upon me, allowed him to make his visits unreasonably long. The Maharaja had many excellent qualities. He was the best shot in Mewar; he was well read in the classic literature of his nation; deeply versed in the secrets of the chronicles, not only of Mewar but of all Rajwara; conversant with all the mysteries of the bard, and could improvise on every occasion. He was a proficient in musical science [647], and could discourse most fluently on the whole theory of Sangita, which comprehends vocal and instrumental harmony. He could explain each of the ragas, or musical modes, which issued from the five mouths of Siva and his consort Mena, together with the almost endless variations of the ragas, to each of which are allotted six consorts or raginis. He had attached to his suite the first vocalists of Mewar, and occasionally favoured me by letting them sing at my house. The chief cantatrice had a superb voice, a contralto of great extent, and bore the familiar appellation of ‘Catalani.’ Her execution of all the basant or ‘spring-songs,’ and the megh or ‘cloud-songs’ of the monsoon, which are full of melody, was perfect. But she had a rival in a singer from Ujjain, and we made a point of having them together, that emulation might excite to excellence. The chieftain of Salumbar, the chief of the Saktawats, and others, frequently joined these parties, as well as the Maharaja: for all are partial to the dance and the song, during which conversation flows unrestrained. Saadatu-lla, whose execution on the guitar would have secured applause even at the Philharmonic, commanded mute attention when he played a tan or symphony, or when, taking any of the simple tappas of Ujjain as a theme, he wandered through a succession of voluntaries. In summer these little parties were held on the terrace or the house-top, where carpets were spread under an awning, while the cool breezes of the lake gave life after the exhaustion of a day passed under 96° of Fahrenheit. The subjects of their songs are various, love, glory, satire, etc. I was invited to similar assemblies by many of the chiefs; though none were so intellectual as those of the Maharaja. On birthdays or other festivals the chief Bardai often appears, or the bard of any other tribe who may happen to be present. Then all is mute attention, broken only by the emphatic “wah, wah!” the measured nod of the head, or fierce curl of the moustache, in token of approbation or the reverse.[[33]]
The Maharaja’s talents for amplification were undoubted, and by more than one of his friends this failing was attributed to his long residence at the court of Jaipur, whose cognomen will not have been forgotten. He had one day been amusing us with feats of his youth, his swimming from island to island, and [648] bestriding the alligators for an excursion.[[34]] Like Tell, he had placed a mark on his son’s head and hit it successfully. He could kill an eagle on the wing, and divide a ball on the edge of a knife, the knife itself unseen. While running on in this manner, my features betraying some incredulity, he insisted on redeeming his word. A day was accordingly appointed, and though labouring under an ague, he came with his favourite matchlocks. The more dangerous experiment was desisted from, and he commenced by dividing the ball on the knife. This he placed perpendicularly in the centre of an earthen vessel filled with water; and taking his station at about twenty paces, perforated the centre of the vessel, and allowed you to take up the fragments of the ball; having previously permitted you to load the piece, and examine the vessel, which he did not once approach himself. Another exhibition was striking an orange from a pole without perforating it. Again, he gave the option of loading to a bystander, and retreating a dozen paces, he knocked an orange off untouched by the ball, which, according to a preliminary proviso, could not be found: the orange was not even discoloured by the powder. He was an adept also at chess[[35]] and chaupar, and could carry on a conversation by stringing flowers in a peculiar manner. If he plumed himself upon his pretensions, his vanity was always veiled under a demeanour full of courtesy and grace; and Maharaja Sheodan Singh would be esteemed a well-bred and well-informed man at the most polished court of Europe.
Every chief has his band, vocal and instrumental; but Sindhia, some years since, carried away the most celebrated vocalists of Udaipur. The Rajputs are all partial to music. The tappa is the favourite measure. Its chief character is plaintive simplicity; and it is analogous to the Scotch, or perhaps still more to the Norman.[[36]]
The Rana, who is a great patron of the art, has a small band of musicians, whose only instrument is the shahna, or hautboy. They played their national [649] tappas with great taste and feeling; and these strains, wafted from the lofty terrace of the palace in the silence of the night, produced a sensation of delight not unmixed with pain, which its peculiarly melancholy character excites. The Rana has also a few flute or flageolet players, who discourse most eloquent music. Indeed, we may enumerate this among the principal amusements of the Rajputs; and although it would be deemed indecorous to be a performer, the science forms a part of education.[[37]]
Who that has marched in the stillness of night through the mountainous regions of Central India, and heard the warder sound the turai from his turreted abode, perched like an eyrie on the mountain-top, can ever forget its graduated intensity of sound, or the emphatic ham! ham! “all’s well,”[“all’s well,”] which follows the lengthened blast of the cornet reverberating in every recess.[[38]]
Bagpipes.
Literature among the Rajputs. Observatories.
But we cannot march over fifty miles of country without observing traces of the genius, talent, and wealth of past days: though—whether the more abstruse sciences, or the lighter arts which embellish life—all are now fast disappearing [651]. Whether in the tranquillity secured to them by the destruction of their predatory foes, these arts and sciences may revive, and the nation regain its elevated tone, is a problem which time alone can solve.