Chambers's Journal of Popular Literature, Science, and Art, No. 712

HYDERABAD AND ITS RULERS

The dominions of the Nizam, of which Hyderabad is the capital, are situated in the southern part of Central India, and are of considerable extent – nearly five hundred miles from north-east to south-west, and about three hundred and fifty in breadth. The Nizam holds a very high place among the native sovereigns of India; his revenue is a large one, and is yearly increasing, greatly owing to the wise administration of the present prime-minister, Sir Salar Jung, a man of singularly intelligent and enlightened views, with a remarkable capacity for government. For upwards of twenty years this able and talented man has powerfully swayed the councils of the Nizams; and since the death of the last ruler, his young son and successor, still a minor, has been entirely under his guidance and control.

The young Nizam is now a boy of nine or ten years of age; and until he is fifteen he will not assume the reins of government. His health is unfortunately not good; his constitution being naturally a feeble one, and the enervating life led in the zenana has in no way tended to strengthen it. He is said to have an amiable disposition and not bad abilities; an English tutor has been provided for him, and he has every facility for receiving a first-class education. This, in conjunction with the wise counsels of his prime-minister, ought to make him a liberal and enlightened ruler when the time comes for him to take the authority into his own hands. Let us trust that it will be so.

Sir Salar Jung speaks English fluently; and on the not rare occasions when he gives an entertainment to the élite of the European society, his manners are those of a polished and high-bred gentleman, anxious that his guests should enjoy themselves, and that none should be overlooked. In his extensive and splendidly furnished palace are several rooms fitted up entirely in the English style, with chairs and sofas of every form and dimension, and tables covered with albums, photographs, and all the innumerable ornaments and knick-knacks of fashionable London drawing-rooms. Here the guests all assemble before dinner; and when the announcement is made, Sir Salar offers his arm to the principal lady present, generally the wife of the English Resident, and conducts her to the dining-room, his own private band playing The Roast Beef of Old England, while the company defile into their places. Here, again, all is in the English style, or rather in that which is known as à la Russe; a long table brilliantly lighted, and decorated with flowers, fruit, and confectionery, all arranged in the most tasteful manner, the band continuing to play at intervals. The dinner is in precisely the same European fashion – one course following the other; and the viands and wine all of the most recherché description; champagne in abundance, liqueurs, everything in short that can gratify the most fastidious palate; Sir Salar himself being a man of the simplest tastes and drinking nothing but cold water.

Dinner ended, all rise, the gentlemen not remaining behind the ladies. Sir Salar again conducts the burra bebee, or principal lady, to a terrace on the roof of the palace, where there are seats arranged for the guests, tea and coffee handed round, a quiet cigar permitted in the background, and where a fine exhibition of fireworks is witnessed. This is the conclusion of a very agreeable entertainment, to which about a couple of hundred people are usually invited, who are all received with the most perfect courtesy by Sir Salar, his young sons, and the members of his suite; and who quit his hospitable roof much impressed by the large-mindedness and frank geniality that so greatly distinguish the Nizam's popular prime-minister.

Sometimes while the company is arriving, a 'nautch' is held in a kind of garden quadrangle, and the guests stroll out and look on for a few minutes, just as they feel inclined. Ordinary nautch-dancing is anything but the incorrect proceeding it is commonly supposed to be; it is really rather a dreary entertainment, and a very few minutes of it will be sufficient to satisfy the curiosity of most people. Be this as it may, nautch-dancing is a very favourite amusement among the high-class natives. When Sir Salar Jung gives a banquet to his fellow-countrymen, there is a nautch on a very large scale; the viands also differ considerably from those presented to his European guests, and consist chiefly of curries of every possible kind and flavour, sometimes more than fifty being served at a meal.

Though he has held the supreme power for many years, and has been prominently before the public for a yet longer time, the prime-minister of the Nizam is not much above forty years of age. He is of medium height, with an air of great dignity, an intelligent expression, and piercing dark eyes. His face is entirely shaven except a dark moustache; he generally wears a tight-fitting dark robe and small white turban, with the Star of India on his breast, and well-fitting English boots. His two wives and his daughters are never seen out of the zenana, but they receive visits from English ladies; and it is generally understood that Sir Salar is more liberal in his ideas regarding the treatment of women than is usual among Mussulmans; and his daughters are well educated, and have had foreign instructresses.

Among the institutions of Hyderabad evidencing an enlightened spirit both among the foreign residents and the natives, is the successful establishment of an American female doctor, a lady distinguished alike by professional skill and charm of manner, and who commands an excellent practice among the female portion of the community. She is also frequently summoned to attend at the zenanas, a very great boon to the poor secluded inmates, whose maladies are very frequently wrongly treated, owing to the imperative strictness of the rule which prohibits the physician from ever seeing his patient; the most that is allowed in the case of a male practitioner being the extension of the hand or tongue through a slit in a curtain, the face all the time remaining perfectly invisible.

Hyderabad, with which is closely connected the large Anglo-Indian station of Secunderabad, is in many respects a very pleasant residence. The society is good, for in addition to a considerable sprinkling of civilians, occupied in various ways, Secunderabad is an important military centre, and the district enjoys many advantages in a social and sanitary point of view. Only about twenty-four hours' journey from Bombay by rail, it is thus brought into easy communication with one of the great mercantile and social centres of India. Its real distance from Madras is not much more; but as there is no direct line, a detour has to be made in order to join the main line from Bombay at Sholapore, which nearly doubles the time consumed in travelling between the two places. This, however, may probably be amended by-and-by; when Madras will be about equidistant with Bombay, and Hyderabad will then rise into even greater importance. The climate is, generally speaking, excellent: its situation, nearly two thousand feet above the level of the sea, conducing much to its salubrity; while it is fortunate in having two monsoons or rainy seasons, one between June and September, and a shorter one later in the year. These rains are not of the ordinary violent character, but more resemble April showers; the entire depth of fall not usually averaging beyond twenty inches, while it is more genially and beneficially diffused, rendering the air delightfully cool and pleasant.

The cost of living is perhaps rather under the recognised rate of most Anglo-Indian stations. Certain things are to be had very reasonably indeed, while others are high-priced, especially the generality of European articles, which are charged nearly double what they would fetch at home. Strangely enough, tea is very dear; nothing drinkable can be got under about six shillings a pound; lower-priced kinds being perfect trash. But eggs, poultry, and even very tolerable mutton can be bought very cheaply; a rupee (about two shillings of our money) will purchase three or four fowls, certainly rather skinny ones; while three rupees is an ordinary price for one of the small country sheep, and the mutton is not bad, though of course it is not 'gram-fed,' as they call the kind specially fattened for the table, and which costs three or four times the money. There is much sociability among the English residents; and the cooler nature of the climate enables them to have a greater variety of al-fresco entertainments than is customary in the tropical temperature of most parts of India. Perhaps partly in consequence of this, combined with its higher and more salubrious situation, the district round Hyderabad is generally very healthy; and people have lived there for many years and enjoyed excellent health without ever coming home at all. One well-known old Scotch gentleman has resided chiefly there for fifty years without ever returning to his native country; and to judge from his active habits and hale appearance, he will live there for many years to come.

Among the native population, however, the repulsive disease of leprosy is very prevalent; but Europeans seldom or never suffer from it. This dreadful malady is of two kinds: in one the type is exceedingly malignant; the afflicted persons are not permitted to go abroad, but are secluded in buildings specially set aside for their reception, and to all intents and purposes they are dead to their fellow-men.

The supply of water in the locality is excellent, mainly owing to the enormous reservoirs that have been constructed in the vicinity of Hyderabad, used principally for bathing both by the natives and by Europeans. The largest of these is about twenty miles round; and they are reached by numerous flights of steps, which are generally thronged by the natives at all hours of the day, for the double purposes of ablution and washing their clothes.

Cotton is the staple production of the country; but its other products and resources are being rapidly developed by Sir Salar Jung, who has organised large public works of various kinds, and is opening new roads through the less frequented portions of the Nizam's territory. If he could be induced to impose more taxes, a very great, and also a justifiable increase of the revenue could be easily effected; but to this measure he has an invincible objection, alleging that it is a system to which the subjects of the Nizam have been little accustomed, and which would be unpalatable to all classes alike. This may be true; but so enlightened a ruler will probably ere long be brought to acknowledge the necessity for a moderate adoption of this system, both in the interests of his master and in those of the real prosperity of the noble dominions he has so long and so faithfully governed.

'PRENTICE-LIFE AT SEA

The sea is one of the most beautiful objects in nature, whether we watch it breaking in playful ripples on the pebbly beach, or shrink from it aghast when it rushes along the shore in the full thunder of its wrath, seething, tortured, convulsed, struggling in the clutch of the storm-fiend. To us in England who owe it so much, to us who have for centuries reaped our harvests on its pathless plains, and made of its trackless billows a highway to fame and fortune, the sea has always been an object of intense, almost passionate interest. Hence there have never been wanting among us volunteers for the wild sea-life of freedom and adventure. The boy intended by fond parents for quite a different fate, dreams of the unknown sea as he creeps reluctant to and from school, devouring it may be the while some well-thumbed novel of Marryat's, instead of mastering the intricacies of a Latin verb; until at last, the passion growing with his growth, he leaves all else behind him and finds his way to the shore, and looks wonderingly at the great ships lying in the harbour. Blissful Edens these, which have fought many a battle with the mighty ocean, although they are lying now so quietly in dock, with their rigging stretching aloft like a network of twine, and piles of cable lazily laid up on deck like so many coiled snakes. Gradually he finds his way on board, and then discovers that the rose has thorns; that sea-life, in other words, is by no means an Elysium.

Such a career is sketched for us in an amusing book, Two Years Abaft the Mast, by F. W. H. Symondson. The author was an apprentice on board the Sea Queen, a sailing ship, bound for Sydney with a general cargo. The ship was a good one, registered A1 at Lloyd's, and carried a crew of twelve able-bodied seamen, four ordinary seamen, and three apprentices besides himself. There were also three mates – the first, second, and third.

Naturally life at sea is made up very much of routine, and the routine on board the Sea Queen was after the following fashion. A sea-day commences at mid-day, when we must suppose the starboard watch, to which our apprentice belonged, to be below. At twelve o'clock (eight bells) he comes up along with his watch, to relieve the port watch, who then have dinner. The second mate, who has charge of the starboard watch, then sees that every one goes to his proper work. He gives an eye to the steering of the ship, and carefully notes any shifting of the wind. A fresh helmsman relieves the man at the wheel, and receives directions as to steering from him; and our apprentice being the youngest, looks after the time and strikes the bells. At half-past twelve he strikers one bell, at one o'clock two bells, and so on. At four o'clock, eight bells are struck, and the port watch is called; and as soon as the man at the wheel is relieved, the starboard watch go below, and smoke or read or spin yarns until tea-time, which is at five o'clock. They then receive a pint of the pale inky coloured nectar which does duty for tea on board ship, and along with it salt pork or junk. This is cooked in different ways; chopped up with biscuit, water, and slush, by which is meant the grease from salt meat, it forms a sea-delicacy called sconse. Another bonne bouche is dandy-funk, which is compounded of powdered biscuit, molasses, water, and slush; while dogsbody, composed of pea-soup, powdered biscuit, and slush, is also considered to form a savoury and refreshing compound. At six o'clock the other watch come below, and have their tea. During the first dog-watch, from four to six, no regular work is done, but no larking is allowed; but the second watch, from six to eight, is given up to fun and frolic of the maddest and merriest description, such as chasing rats with belaying-pins, or trying to turn the cook out of his galley, while he defends himself with boiling water. At eight o'clock the wild scrimmage ceases as if by magic, the starboard watch turn into their berths, and nothing is heard but the measured tread of the look-out on the forecastle head, and the soft murmur of the wind and sea, as the night-breeze fills the sails, and the Sea Queen glides onward to her destination through the rippling water.

At midnight the port watch is relieved, all hands muster on deck, and the mate in charge sings out: 'Relieve the look-out! Relieve the man at the wheel!' and then all is silent again until four o'clock, when the starboard watch go below, and the port watch come up.

The cook is called at four; and from half-past five to six the men have their coffee, and then comes the order: 'Brooms and buckets aft, to wash the decks;' which shews that the work of the day has begun. While the decks are being scrubbed, the captain generally makes his appearance, and after inspecting the compass and the sails, sits down in his favourite arm-chair on the poop with a book. On Saturday afternoons each watch are allowed an hour to wash their clothes, and at half-past four or five the stores for the week are served out: these consist of articles such as sugar, vinegar, &c.

In the little world of the ship, the captain is an irresponsible autocrat; his word is law; to refuse to obey him is mutiny. The sole command of the navigation and working of the ship rests with him, and the weather-side of the poop is his private property when he chooses to come on deck. In the ordinary daily work he seldom interferes personally, but transmits all his orders through the chief mate, who is a very important officer, and who superintends everything. When the cargo is stowed, he must give an acknowledgment for it and for all goods in the hold, and must make up any deficiencies. He must also keep the log-book, which is a very important trust. The officer of each watch marks upon the log-slate the courses, the distance run, the winds, and any subject of interest; and these at the end of every twenty-four hours are copied into the official log-book by the chief mate. The duties of the second and third mate are less onerous; but they must always be addressed by the prefix of 'Mr' and answered with 'Sir.' The third mate has to dispense the stores – a very unpopular office, and one which does not fail to call down a shower of anything but blessings upon his devoted head. A boatswain is in general only carried by large ships, and his sole duty is to look after the rigging and all that concerns it. The carpenter is both an important and independent personage on board ship; the captain alone gives him his orders, and he has nothing to do with any of the three mates; his usual sobriquet is 'Chips.' The steward is in point of fact the captain's servant, and although he is well paid, he is generally looked down upon by the crew, who call him 'Flunkey.'

Pursuing the narrative presented to us by the Sea Queen's apprentice, we find that the cook, if he is a good one, is a very important personage on board ship; he answers generally to the name of 'Slushy' or 'the Doctor,' and requires to be, and indeed almost always is, an individual of some resource, for he practises his calling amid difficulties such as would utterly dismay a chef de cuisine on land. His kitchen, to begin with, is such a mite of a place that the wonder is that he can fry, roast, or boil anything in it; then it is provokingly subject to sudden inundations, partial deluges which come tumbling in as if in sport, playfully extinguishing his stove, and sending his provisions, cooking utensils, and seasonings sliding and spinning all around him; while if he is worth his salt he will still, in spite of all these difficulties, turn out such a meal for the cabin table as Soyer under the circumstances need not have blushed to own. As is befitting in the case of such a superior being, he has certain social advantages; he can smoke in his galley whenever he chooses; and he slumbers peacefully all night in the best bunk of the forecastle, blissfully unconscious of the existence or claims of port or starboard watches. The apprentices are not so well off, although a premium of from thirty to sixty guineas is sometimes paid for their term of four years; the only advantage they have is living apart from the crew. Their duties are the same as those of a forecastle boy, and they share the same food, which is sufficient in quantity, but often very bad as to quality.