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.