An hour before reaching Hyderabad (Deccan) all nature changes to a strange formation which reminded us of the Karso at Trieste, only on an exaggerated scale. An outcrop of huge granite boulders, which is wild nature, but looks as if arranged by art, forms shapes like an ancient town with battlements and castles, and covers a radius of thirty miles round that city like natural defences. Hyderabad is the largest and most important native State in India, ruled by our faithful ally, the Nizam. The area is almost ninety-six thousand square miles; the population, eleven millions. The army in 1876 numbered about thirty thousand men, chiefly cavalry, of whom six hundred are Arabs. Our kind hosts, Colonel and Mrs. Nevill, met us cordially at the station. She is the eldest daughter of the late talented and lamented Charles Lever, our predecessor at Trieste, so famous as a novelist, and Colonel Nevill is practically Commander-in-Chief of the Nizam's army, then under Sir Salar Jung.
There was no losing time in Hyderabad, we had too much to see. No sooner did we get into our pleasant quarters at the Nevills' than we had to dress sharp, as there was a dinner-party given to the 16th Lancers, and a ball at Sir Richard and Lady Meade's—the Governor and his wife—charming people. Early next morning we were out on elephants to see the town. These animals look awfully imposing in large numbers with gaudy trappings. I had never been on one before; the first mounting and the curious motion are decidedly new sensations. We went all through the City unarmed and without guards, and met with nothing but greetings and blessings. I mention this because every one knows what a bad name Hyderabad had. The horses show blood; they are frightened of elephants, and try to avoid them. You see everywhere wild-looking men in gaudy dresses and unveiled women. The very great "swells" have troops of men before and behind them with drawn swords. Everything is on the feudal system. You meet brown "Nobles" riding with troops of retainers in white burnous, carrying the arms and wearing the uniform of their Chiefs. The houses are flat like those of Damascus; the town is clean; the streets are broad, and spanned by high arches whose bold simplicity is very striking. The Nizam's palace, at least a mile long, is carved with delicate tracery, and many a mosque, like lacework, rises here and there, but the cachet of all is size, boldness, and simplicity.
There are three great men in Hyderabad who jointly manage the Nizam's affairs, and are related to him. In 1876 Sir Salar Jung was Regent and Prime Minister. The Amir el Kebír was co-Regent and Minister of Justice; the Wikar ool Umárá is his brother. After going over the town we proceeded to the palace of his Excellency Mookhtar ool Moolk Sir Salar Jung, G.C.S.I., then called "the wily Minister" by our Press. He is a noble, chivalrous, single-hearted Arab gentleman of the very best stamp. His palace contained about seven courts with fountains, and various suites of large halls opening on to them. It was perfectly magnificent. One room had its ceilings and walls thickly studded with china cups, saucers, and plates, which would have been envied by many collectors in London. After a luxuriant breakfast of European and Eastern dishes, and wine for us, but water for himself, he showed us his weapons, swords and daggers, and many arms I had never seen before, with beautiful blades, inlaid sheaths, and some covered with gorgeous jewels. Richard was in his glory amongst them. The party consisted of the great Minister and his two sons, ourselves, and the Ministers. He had a little son aged ten, whom he called "Fox," who took my fancy exceedingly; he was very serious, sharp as a needle, and full of courage and spirit. I wonder how he has grown up.
We were then taken to the stables, a place like the Burlington Arcade, open at both ends, loose boxes where the shops would be, each opening into the passage running down the centre. There were about a hundred horses, nearly all thoroughbred Arabs and Persians, grey and light bay being the favourite colour. Every horse had his own groom. That night we were invited to the Residency. Sir Richard and Lady Meade gave a dinner-party to Sir Salar Jung and the Ministers. Cholera was very bad at this time; there were about thirty cases a day. Sir Salar Jung lent me a beautiful grey Arab, large, powerful, and showy. Mrs. Nevill was a perfect horsewoman; she had broken in four thoroughbreds for her husband and herself during the short time she had been there. That night there was another dinner-party at Colonel Nevill's; next morning a breakfast with Sir Salar Jung and the officers of the 44th, who arrived on troops of elephants with scarlet trappings.
Afterwards we made a pilgrimage to the tomb of General Raymond, who once commanded the Nizam's forces. He is now called Shah Rahman, and is made a saint of, as Colonel Nevill probably will be, and future generations will make a pilgrimage to his tomb as Shah bin Rahman, Anglicized "little Johnny Shaw," as there is a fakir's tomb near it with a hard name which the English have shortened to "Johnny Shaw," and a group of lovely little temples that you would like to put under a glass case on the drawing-room table. A dinner-party and a little music at Lady Meade's finished the evening.
Early next morning was first a water-party to the tank, and then to the palace of the Wikar Shums ool Umárá, K.C.S.I., one of the three great dignitaries of the Nizam's country. We were received by a guard of soldiers and a band of music, and ushered up into a splendid palace. The gardens and courts could easily lodge a small army. A band, directed by an English bandmaster, played "God save the Queen." Our host, whose gold-fringed turban denotes his connection with Royalty, received us like old friends. We had a capital breakfast with the Chief and his relatives; the cooking was delicious. The hall was full of retainers and servants, who pressed us to eat as they served the dishes. "Take mutton cutlet; 'im very good," was whispered close to my ear with an excellent English accent. After breakfast we were shown the jewellery; then, far more interesting, the weapons—shields inlaid with gold. His grandfather in his day wielded a ponderous gurz (mace), and wore a small Hyderabad turban of steel bands with bar nose-piece, and a coat of mail, every link and every ring containing an engraved verse of the Koran. This was sacred armour, and a warrior was supposed to be invincible in it. There was a beautiful lance, well balanced, whose point was shaped like a flame. There was every sort of gun, sword, and dagger, with jewelled inlaid hilts, and sometimes dangling pearls and emeralds attached to them. At the top of the palace is a huge room with windows to the four quarters, and the eye commands the country for forty miles round,—and then we saw something we had never seen before.
The Chief had an ostrich race for us, which was delightful. The man mounts, sits back, puts his legs under the wings, locks his feet under the breast; the birds go at an awful pace, and can kick like a horse. From this we went to Lady Meade's garden-party, with lawn-tennis, badminton, and refreshments. In the evening Colonel Nevill gave a dinner-party to his native officers, which was most interesting, Sayyid Ahmad and Ahmad Abdullah being the two nicest. They are Arab descendants of Anazeh (Bedawi) and Sayyids (of the Prophet's race).
There are two parties in India on a certain question, the treatment of the Native. One is all for keeping him down and treating him harshly; the other condemns this, and wants to make him on an equality. Neither party actually mix freely with the native, and the native says, "The English are just, but they are not kind," and that is about the truth. Now, Richard was all for firmness, and said, "What has to be done should be done with a hand that never relaxes; but we should be kind and courteous too," and he was certain if we were we should never want force. It is the gulf that hinders all good, and breeds all evil feeling, and it is the common, uneducated English that do everything to widen it. As he says, "to the English eye, people are all black, or all brown like a flock of sheep; they have generally not learning enough, or education enough, or discrimination enough to make a difference between the high-caste Indian, or the pure Arab gentleman who is noble like themselves, and the Sierra Leone Negro, who, if you were to shake hands with him once, would smack your face the first time he felt cross, and requires not kicking and beating, but absolutely to be kept, in a moral sense, to a state of wholesome awe."