BOWRING'S EASTERN EXPERIENCES.*
UNDER an attractive but simple title, Mr. Bowring has published a mildly interesting book. It contains no story of great achieve- ments, no narrative of a difficult administration, no discussion of a large policy ; but it abounds with information, especially in all that relates to Mysore and Coorg, and it throws side-lights upon the Punjab, and even on the Taepings,—for Mr. Bowring's ex- periences, be it remarked, are not wholly Indian, they are Eastern.
• Eastern Erperieneet. By Lewin B. Bowring, C.S.L, late Chief Commissioner of Mysore and Coorg. London : Henry S. King and Co.
However, to all intents and purposes, the backbone of the volume is the account of Mysore. That is very well done, and might not improperly have found a place in the series of " Selections" which the Supreme and Provincial Governments so usefully pub- lish. For the Governments of India must be ranked among• the greatest of publishing firms ; the works they give to the world are the real literature of Modern India ; and their influence in that direction extends far and wide among the Services and outsiders, and continually leads to the institution of fresh re- searches and the making of books, many of them most excellent. The best administration reports, especially those from the political agents, are capital reading ; but even the best reports are little• known, and were they known, would be still less appreciated in England, because the persons, things, politics, or no politics they deal with are unfamiliar and mostly unintelligible. The intrigues of Rajpoots, the ways and methods of administration• among the great chiefs of Central India, the manners and customs of Gonds and Bheels, Beloochees and Pathan, the administrative- triumphs of the Ministers of the Deccan Nizamat, or of Travan- core, all striking and instructive to Indian eyes, are to the English, like the shifting patterns of the kaleidoscope, and only attract attention or excite interest when some revolt or famine or flood envelops the country. Mr. Bowring's book, however, stands on a. somewhat different footing from an Administrative Report. It is a complete work in itself within the scope of his subject.. He does not aim at telling the history of Mysore ; he does not bewilder the reader with a narrative of dynastic changes among petty princes, he does not even tell the story of Ryder Ali and Tippoo Sultan, stories otherwise well known. But he tells you what Mysore is, that grand and fertile plateau, with. its four millions of people and one million sterling of revenue, seated aloft and overlooking Southern India, and in able and hostile- hands capable of so much to the detriment of its neighbours. But. although a plateau at a lofty elevation, Mysore is not a table-land,. it is not fiat ; it is studded with droogs, those singular isolated hale, rising like islands in the air, the sites of famous fortresses, once the haunts of renowned robber-barons ; and it is seamed with mountain chains, through which mighty rivers force their way,—the sacred. Cauvery itself, which rises in Coorg, being one. The western border is a grand mass of ghauts, overlooking the noble forests and jungles of Canara ; the Neilgherries rise out of a regular " terrai " just beyond the southern frontier, while the eastern face overhang& the country towards Madras. Through this picturesque region, Mr. Bowring conducts his reader step by step, district by, district, on to the lofty peaks as well as into the sheltered and fruitful valleys ; touches lightly on local history, on local customs ; discourses on soil and culture and irrigation, on vegetable and mineral products, on forts and temples and shrines, and guides you along with a guide's facility of talk, but without any approach to a guide's awful tedium. II any one wants to know what Mysore is like, and what are its products, here he will find his want supplied. Nor is the account of Coorg less interesting. The Coorg folk live in a highland home, which cuts them off from their neighbours ; they have the virtues and the robust manly habits of the mountaineers;. and although they worship Pan, and the spirits of woods and waters, they found great favour in the eyes of their Christian Commissioner. Indeed, the newest matter in the book is, per- haps, contained in the pages devoted to Coorg. British people have been asked to sympathize with the deposed Rajah of Coorg, as they have been and will be asked to sympathize with any and every Indian Lord of Misrule who can furnish funds to agents ; but Mr. Bowring's description of the ruler and the people is quite enough to disabuse the mind of anyone not an agent or a dupe.
There are also two interesting chapters on the Punjab and the Cis-Sutlej Sikh country, full of information and pleasantly written,. but containing little below the surface. The most amusing and the freshest pages of thejbook are those contributed by Mrs.. Bowring, who went outhe India with her husband in 1867, and returned with him in 1869. Her letters, printed at the end of the volume, contain " first impressions " of a country and people dif- ferent from any of which she had been accustomed to hear ; these are written in a vigorous, sprightly tone, with a free pen, and with the zest to be found only in the writings of new arrivals. There is, of course, no story in them, but jotted down from day to day for the eyes of friends at home, they give an excellent idea alike of the pleasures and troubles, as well as the novelties of Indian life. The reader will be amused with the vivacity and cleverness of the writer of these " scenes " in the bungalow of the Commis- sioner of Mysore. Here is the first :—
"Once upon a time in Bnngalnm—somewhere down there in India, you know, or you don't know the exact whereabouts—it was early in the morning, so early that the sun was not up, though somebody else must have been, for, as the clock struck six, a cannon was fired off— bang ! and Mrs. Commissioner, who had been fast asleep a minute before, dreaming all sorts of pleasant things, woke up with a start. She had ' ad only been in Bungalum a few weeks, and had not as yet become accustomed to the six o'clock and nine o'clock guns,—one to blow her out of bed, and the other to shoot her in again,—so she awoke, turned round on her pillow, and lay listening to the sound as it boomed away over the parade-ground. Mr. Commissioner was awake also, or has been for some time, per force of habit, being a very early bird. Up be jumps. Of course he knocks his head or his back with the weights on the mosquito curtains, and having given one or other, or both, a con- ciliatory rub, disappears into his dressing-room, from which he is not long in reappearing in stout yellow leathern gaiters, booted and spurred. Of course he takes a peep through the curtains at Mrs. Commissioner. ' Well, did I ever! what a kitten it is for sleep he mutters, for she has relapsed into her former state of blissful unconsciousness. Let her sleep, while we follow Mr. Commissioner, who having gulped down a cup of tea, and munched a piece of toast with relish, walks out into the verandah, on which exeunt peons for Ajax' with all possible speed. There is a cold feeling in the air, and a white fog envelops the land- scape. The redoubtable Ajax comes sidling along, winking first at the horseboy and then at his master out of his mischievous eyes. He does not want to be petted, not he ! and he pretends to object to being mounted, but it is all in vain, and Mr. Commissioner bag jumped on his back. Now for a spree, thinks the wicked pony, laying back his ears, and plunging out at the gate full tilt. Away they go, out of the civilized world of Bungalum, into the wild country, with its great boulders of rock, speak- ing of ancient earthquakes and npheavings, miles and miles. Not a soul, not even a policeman on his beat, sees the Commissioner ride forth, chuckling inwardly, as he reflects how he will take in the Amildar of Chitteldroog, and surprise all the native officials. He has heard of certain irregularities at the travellers' bungalow, and thinks there is nothing like going to the spot himself. It is a matter of eight miles, but, halt ! here we are ! Wob, Ajax ! A call from without the bunga- low, a feeble response from within, and out comes a native servant, his swarthy limbs wrapped in a white sheet, wondering who on earth comes
-that way so early in the morning. What does the Sahib want ? Show me your price-list,' says Mr. Commissioner, taking no notice of the man's manner, which is not what it would be if he knew who his visitor was. 'Yon have not got one ? then call the Amildar.' Native stares. ' So early in the morning, call the Amildar ? and who shall I say wants him "A Sahib,' replies the Commissioner, sitting back at ease in his saddle, while Ajax winks, as much as to say, ' Here's a pretty go !' The man in the sheet scuttles down into the village, reappearing after some time with the Amildar, not in the most respectful or pleasant mood at being so disturbed. 'Where is your price-list ? "Haven't got one,' retorts the man, drawing near. 'Very well,' says Mr. Commis-
sioner, rising in his stirrups with becoming dignity. If you don't send one in before four-and-twenty hours you lose your place.' The Amildar stares. 'And who are you, Sahib ? " The Commissioner.' The Amildar is electrified ; he has jumped out of his shoes (a sign of disre- spect to appear in them), and is now salaaming to the earth. The Commissioner flourishes his whip, and Ajax is already a mile on his return home, before the astonished Amildar has collected his scared senses. While the news goes the round of the village, Mr. Commissioner sits on the edge of the bed, chafing his cold hands, putting in his shirt- studs, and amusing Mrs. C., who is by this time wide-awake, with the account of the morning's adventure. How cold it was ! bow Ajax did pull, and how he tried to run away alter a sixteen miles' gallop, as he turned in at the lodge!"
Passing over the second and third, which glance at the process of getting up and breakfasting, take this, which capitally describes the morning calls upon a new-corner, whose husband occupies a high position,—who is, in fact, the real King of Mysore :—
" Scene 4.—Missus can see! and soon gets out a smart bonnet, and in bustles with a rustle Mrs. Chatterbox, who is so anxious to see Mrs. Commissioner, and to have something to talk about. Ah, yes, she knew the house in dear old Sir —'s time. He was her father's brother's mother's first cousin, once removed. She came to Bungalum herself as a bride, she won't say how many years ago,' &c. Having had her chat out, she departs. Enter Mrs. Alleyes, all curiosity to see the alterations. Mrs. C. feels that no great exertion is needed on her part in the conversational line. Mrs. Alleyes takes it all in. ' New carpets ? handsome ! Sofas recovered ! water-colours, embroidered table-cloth.' Alleyes shall write for some to-day. And so that is the fashion? tassels! nothing new in the hair line? Good-bye.' Exit Alleyes, and enter Mr. and Mrs. Pump, who let down the buckets at once. So sorry to hear Mr. B. is going away ! to H— ? ' Mrs. Commissioner replies that she knows nothing about it. ' When is the Raja to be invested with the Star of India ? ' Mrs. C. wonders when, also. 'General — will be down here soon, no doubt.' Mrs. C. thinks it is very possible. Buckets drawn up empty; and Pumps desist and depart. Enter Mrs. Smalltalk. ' Have you heard of Mrs. Brown? What do you think people say of poor Mrs. White, because she took Colonel Blackbird home from the bandstand? And as to Miss Fickle, well, really ! I don't know what to say !' She then departs. Enter young Jackanapes of the 11th with his bosom friend De Courcy Plunger. 'Haw ! dull place, Bungalum ! horrid slow place! nothing for a fellow to do ! no balls this year ! wish they were in a jungle, rather than in a half-civilized place like Bungalum.' One cackles while the other brays. D.G., exeunt both. Follows Mrs. Affirmative, and then Mrs. Negative. Shut up—two o'clock."
Mrs. Bowring was charmed with Coorg, as well she might be, for Coorg is unique, and she gives some pretty sketches of what she saw. Here are two
"I expressed a wish to see some Coorg ladies, so one of the head men brought his wife and cousin to see me. They came thickly veiled, but uncovered their faces when in the drawing-room. They were fine young women, with large eyes, and were not very dark. Their hair was worn en chignon, only they had splendid gold ornaments on it, and bunches of white flowers. They wore white jackets with short sleeves, embroidered with red cotton, white muslin skirts, embroidered with a narrow gold lace, and very short. Their legs and feet were bare, and round their ankles they had massive silver bands, from which hung a number of little bells, with a silver chain from the band to each toe, held on a number of rings. Their arms were covered with bracelets, and round their necks hung a number of gold chains with jewel orna- ments. L. was allowed to be present, but they were very shy. They showed me some work, a sort of fine embroidery which they were doing,. and with which they ornament their husbands' clothes. They also brought with them all their ornaments, and I showed them my Roman. necklace, which is not very unlike what they wear, and it amused them."
Later in the day a large body of men assembled and performed a. national dance in front of the old palace.
"About 200 Coorgs formed into a circle. The first figure of the dance was called Balakata, and was a slow movement, the men all danc- ing round, singing, and waving about gracefully chowrees (long whisks of hair like horses' tails), with an accompaniment of drums. This was followed by the second figure, called Kolhata, or stick dance, in which each man was provided with a couple of sticks, just like those used at La Grace.' They all moved round as before, beginning slowly, with a sort of prancing step, which got quicker and quicker. They kept tapping their neighbours' sticks in time, getting more and more excited, and hitting harder, as if they were going to have a fight, but at a given. signal they all instantly stopped. The third figure consisted of a single combat. One man leaped into the circle with a war-whoop, armed with a long switch and a metal shield, challenging the ring. Then out sprang another, and away both danced. At last they rushed together, hitting as hard as they could. The laws of the game do not allow bitting above the knees, although some, in their excitement, certainly transgressed. The ankles, however, suffered most, and must have smarted terribly after an encounter. When one of the combatants gavo
in, the other embraced him, to show there was no At the end of the third figure, the assembly had a grand flourish, dancing about, and leaping vigorously into the air. The entertainment was brought to a close by wrestling for cocoa-nuts, the victors coming forward and breaking them open before us. They then formed into a long line„ through which we passed to the carriage."
With this glimpse of a people who believe in the god Pan, who, are brave and independent, yet loyal to the English who rule over them, and who dwell in a nook of their own shut in by mountains from the adjacent districts, we take leave of a volume not without its merits among those which seek to impart to us some flavour of Oriental experiences.
Previous page
