THE MINOR KING OF MYSORE. In his book entitled 'Eastern Experiences,' Mr Lewin Bowring, late Chief Commissioner of Mysore, brought the history of that province up to the date when the present ruler, who is a minor, was placed in the charge of the guardian appointed by the British Government; up to that date the education of the little chief had not commenced. He had but once emerged from the seclusion of the house his family occupied in the Fort of Mysore. He had been surrounded by reactionary influences. He was then but little over six years old, small for his age, but, as described by Mr Bowring, "not dark, but of a rich olive complexion, with most splendid eyes." Since then more than four years have elapsed. The little chief must be close upon eleven years old. How have the pledges made on his behalf by the British Government been, in the interval, fulfilled? We ask this question with the most complete intention of answering it fully. Fortunately it is easy for us to do SU. India is no longer a terra incognita to travellers. Some of these travellers,-attracted partly, possibly, by its vicinity to the lovely Nilghéri mountains; partly by the beautiful and varied landscape scenery for which Coorg is famous; partly, perhaps, by the desire to explore the still curious remains of Seringapatam; possibly, also, by the temperate and even climate, which renders the province of Mysore so salubrious for Europeans,have not failed to visit the capital which gave its name to the province to explore its curiositiesand, above all, to pay their respects to the little chief who is being trained to be its ruler. From these and other sources-for there are no state secrets at Mysore-it is easy to obtain details of the recent history of the province. We are enabled then, without difficulty, to present to our readers a succinct account of the mode in which the declared intentions of the British Government are being carried out. There are few subjects, we think, connected with the administration of India, which more demand attention than this. Never did the British Government bind itself more solemnly to an act of restitution than on the occasion when it engaged to restore Mysore, after a certain lapse of years, to the adopted heir of the late Raja. But one condition was attached to this promise, and it was a condition the fulfilment of which rested mainly with the British Government. This was that the young chief should be so educated as to be fit to rule. Having before it the fact-the unfortunate fact that the late Raja, nominated when a minor, after the fall of Seringapatam in 1799, was shamefully neglected in all matters of education; that, though under British guardianship, he had no education at all; and that his ill success as a ruler was traceable to that fatal want ;-it is clear that in imposing this condition the British Government made itself responsible for its fulfilment. The pledge given in Parliament by Sir Stafford Northcote was given in the face of India, and before Europe. Its importance in the eyes of the natives of India cannot be exaggerated. The concession, as it was called, to Indian public opinion, made a deep impression upon all thinking men in India. And it is impossible to overestimate the mixed feelings of jealousy, of suspicion, and of interest, with which the experiment is being watched. What, then, has been done? Much, undoubtedly, if we take a purely English view of the question. But an immense deal, if we take cognisance of the difficulties specially attaching to a part of India in which the rites and ceremonies peculiar to the Hindus are practised with the greatest austerity, and where a hatred of innovation is carried to an extent it would seem difficult to realise in life. In this sort of existence the most opposite contrasts meet. One finds a love of outward pomp and splendour combined with domestic discomfort at which the poorest Englishman would grumble; a love of money and jewels joined to an eagerness to squander scarcely to be surpassed; a devotion to forms and ceremonies, an abject submission to priests, united with an indifference to life; a feverish longing for external honours hand in hand with private meanness of the basest order; a belief in the corruptibility of mankind joined with the honourable feeling which forbids a man to betray one who trusts him. Such are some of the characteristics of the Mysoreans. And when we add that they are joined to a firm belief in necromancy, astrology, divination, the power of conjuring away misfortunes, and the converse, we think it will be admitted that the task of a reformer, in such a community, was no light one. And yet it had to be attempted. To educate the young Raja so as to fit him to be a ruler, it was necessary to remove him as far as possible from influences which, infecting the very atmosphere he breathed, must in time master his spirit, influences which regarded education as their deadliest enemy. Yet it seemed difficult to do this. He was little more than six years old; he occupied a house in the fort with a widowed mother, two brothers, and a sister, all older than himself; relatives and dependants, all belonging to the reactionary school, had constant access to him. His mother, an excellent woman in her way, was, like all the women of Mysore, entirely under the influence of the priests. Under such circumstances, but little good could be hoped for by the adoption of the plan of sending daily into the fort a tutor to give instruction to the young chief. Even supposing that the tutor had been superior to the prejudices of his race, was it probable that his teaching would counterbalance the impressions hourly forced upon the youthful mind? That was not to be hoped for, and was, in fact, impossible. Yet insuperable difficulties seemed to present themselves to the alternative design of removing the young prince to a place where he would be less amenable to the influences we have mentioned. To take a child of such tender years from the guardianship of his mother was, at the moment, not to be thought of. Such a course, in the absence of any overt act of contumacy on the part of the mother, would have given birth to a feeling of discontent and excitement which it would have been difficult to allay. There seemed, however, a third course. This consisted in removing him for a certain number of hours every day to a house outside the fort, where he could be instructed. And this was the course the Guardian proposed to adopt. Yet no sooner was it mentioned, than, as it would seem, it was met by numberless objections. It appeared to the Mysorean mind that the king ought not to go to education, but that education should come to the king. Then, again, it was impos sible that the king should ever enter any carriage but a state-carriage; should ever drive unless attended by a large cavalry escort, and eighty running footmen, and preceded by men proclaiming his titles. Such, declared the orthodox, had been the unvarying custom under the late reign, and the customs of Mysore were as invariable as those of the Medes and the Persians. overcome. Yet, after all, the difficulty was It would appear that, in all his efforts, the Guardian received the strenuous support and assistance of an enlightened Brahmin, C. Runga Charlis by name, a native of Madras, and who had been selected by Mr Bowring to fill the office of Controller of the Palace. Never was a happier choice made. Mr Runga Charlis, who is well known to the writer of these pages, is one of the noblest men that ever lived. Possessing a simple, unaffected nature, a warm and generous heart, full of sympathy with the suffering, he had, too, a clear head, a well-stored and vigorous understanding, and a wonderful knowledge of character. He was just the man for the position. Though a Brahmin of the highest caste, he was not bound by the prejudices of Brahminism. It was his creed that a man should cast aside all differences of opinion when dealing with mankind; that men should be judged less by their words than by their acts; and that there was one essential thing in this world, and one only, to strive for, and that was the right. It was fortunate that between this gentleman and the Guardian there existed, on all essential points, a community of sentiment; and it was by their united efforts that the difficulties we have alluded to were overcome. It happened that outside the fort there was an unoccupied palace, called the Summer Palace. It had spacious grounds attached to it, and it was in every respect well suited to the purpose for which it was destined. This was, to use it as a school: not a school for the Maharaja only, but for himself, his relations, and the sons of all the officers of state. There could be no possible use, it had occurred to the Guardian, in educating the Maharaja only, if his relations, and those with whom, in mature life, he would have to associate, were left uncared for. It was determined, then, that all the sons of the nobles and high officers of state should be summoned to attend daily at the school where the Maharaja was to learn his lessons; that they should sit in the same class, take places, and learn from the same books; that they should join in the same games; and, in fact, should be associated together just as are the boys in the great public schools of England. This resolution having been arrived at, all minor difficulties vanished. The reactionary party consoled themselves with the idea that, after all, the new schoolroom was a palace; and they were content to think with less regret upon the absence of the running footmen, and all but a very moderate escort, when they were assured that the Viceroy seldom had a larger following. They hoped, too, that the education would prove to be a mere formality, and that they would be able, in the privacy of the house, to instil their own views into the yet unformed mind of the chief. When, after a few months, these hopes proved delusive, attempts were made, not once or twice, but repeatedly, to shake off the yoke of education, and to reintroduce the lax system prevailing under the previous reign. But the strong support given by the Chief Com missioner, Mr Lewin Bowring, to the Guardian, enabled him to meet and baffle all these efforts. It was not, however, till the month of April 1870, that the determined energy of the late Lord Mayo dealt them a final and a fatal blow. That Viceroy, seeing that half measures would endanger the success of the experiment, and cripple the action of his lieutenant on the spot, gave to the Guardian his full and cordial support, bestowing upon him, at the same time, complete authority to act as he deemed for the best on any sudden emergency. From that moment, all, apparently, has been plain sailing. The reactionists lost heart, and gave in. And it has since required but a firm and steady handling of the reins to steer the team clear of every obstacle in the direct road for the ultimate goal. Four years have now elapsed since the school was established, and the progress it has made is surprising. It admitted boys of all ages, the only proviso being that they should be sons of nobles or of high officers of state. They number about sixty, and the ages vary from eight to seventeen. They are divided into four classes. The first includes the boys, fourteen in number, who have made the greatest progress, and of ages varying from eleven to seventeen. Some of these may have learnt a smattering of English at the local schools before the Maharaja's school was established. It was, however, but a smattering; and it is a remarkable fact that all these have been passed by boys who started, so to speak, fair. At the time of the establishment of the Maharaja's schoolSeptember 1869-none of the boys who had studied at the local schools could speak English. They could read and write and spell fairly, but nothing more. Now, after four years' continued study, they can, as a rule, express themselves well in English. They have read and mastered the histories of the different countries of Europe and of India; they know geography thoroughly; in arithmetic and algebra they have made remarkable progress; whilst they understand thoroughly the three first books of Euclid. The second class is composed of boys varying in age from twelve to seventeen. Many of these entered the school some months subsequently to its formation a fact which accounts, with respect to some of them, for their not being in the first class. They number nineteen. They have advanced in arithmetic as far as decimals, and have made good progress in history, in geography, and in grammar. In this class is the second brother of the Maharaja, about sixteen years old, a well-behaved boy, much liked by his comrades, but not remarkable for ability. In the third class, numbering also nineteen boys, is the little Maharaja. Here they have mastered simple and compound arithmetic, reading, writing, and spelling, whilst fair progress has been made in history, and very great progress in geography. The little Maharaja is, as we have said, fast approaching the age of eleven years. Some of his class companions may be two or three years older, but only two are younger than he. He is a sturdy, well-built young fellow, his face expressing intelligence. He is very fond of the school, and pays great attention to his lessons. At the monthly examinations he has been, for a long time past, always amongst the first four-often, indeed, first of all. His strong point is geography, in which he is unrivalled in the class. His weakest point is dictation, but in this, as well as in arithmetic, in which he was also backward, he has lately made considerable strides. His intellect seems rather whilst in catching, and in fielding solid than brilliant, but he has. generally, they show remarkably a most retentive memory. The good form. The Maharaja plays result is, that though he learns with naturally with the smaller boys, difficulty, all that he does learn is and none shows greater eagerness well impressed on his memory, and than he. On the cricket-ground, as may be said to be stored in his in the school, he is simply the mind. He was for some time much equal of his companions. He, like depressed in consequence of the low they, wears the inevitable flannel place he occupied in the class in dress, similar to that worn in Engdictation, but the force of his char- lish schools; and the only difference acter showed itself in the energy between their entire costume and with which he applied himself to that of the boys of an English remedy this failing. He succeed- school is, that the former wear tured, but showed no exultation at his bans instead of hats, and for the most success. In fact, he is singular- part dispense with shoes and stockly devoid of self-consciousness-a ings. At the outset of his cricket remarkable circumstance, when we career the Maharaja took to bowling, take into consideration the adulation without, however, achieving any which attends him in his private great success. But, happening one house. day to make a good catch, and receiving much applause from his comrades, he has ever since taken his place among the fielders. And here he is quite at home. The interest felt by the boys generally, alike in the school and in the game, may be illustrated by the fact, that on the occasion of her Majesty's birthday, when asked how they would like to spend their holiday, they replied: "Certainly not in our houses; let us have lessons in the morning, and a good game of cricket in the afternoon." We may mention that there is a fourth class, composed of ten boys, most of them representing the incurably dull elements of the school, though two or three are new-comers. The school hours are from half-past ten to half-past two; and again from half-past three to half-past four. But all the lessons taught during those hours have to be prepared at home; consequently, some of the boys engage private tutors. On the Maharaja and two of his relatives a master attends every morning early, to aid him in the study of the lessons set for the day. It may be calculated, then, that few of the boys study less than seven hours every day, many of them much more. But it must not be supposed that no play mingles with all this work. Two half-holidays are set apart every week for the exercise of cricket. In this popular game the boys have made great progress, some of them handling the willow in a style which would do no discredit to the public schools of England. One or two of the bigger boys give great promise of becoming fair round-hand bowlers; The fact is, Home, in the English sense of the term, is not understood by the Mysoreans. Their homes are houses divided into small, dark, ill-ventilated rooms, and inhabited by querulous, uneducated, priestridden women. These care not in the smallest degree for the educational and intellectual progress of the youthful scions of the house, though they do lay great stress upon the dignities and honours bestowed upon them. To hear that one of these scions had gained a step in precedence at the King's Court, no matter the means by which that step might have been obtained, |