A Sout Indian Maharaja

by Rao Sahib Mahakavi Ulloor S. Parameswara Iyer

In 1810 A.D., Travancore had a provident escape from a chance of annexation to the British Raj, by the sudden death of its incapable and unfortunate ruler, Bala Rama Varma. In default of male heirs, the Paramount Power called a young princess of twenty to the vacant throne as an experimental measure. Rani Gauri Lakshmi Bayi, its fair occupant, however, was no ordinary woman and, in less than a year, proved herself to be gifted with rare administrative skill. But it was thought that as long as there was no male member in the royal family, there could be no security for the continuity of the Chera rule in the land. Nothing, accordingly, could give greater joy to the people than when it was announced on the 16th April 1813, that their sovereign was most opportunely blessed with a male offspring. All castes and classes of Travancoreans were jubilant over the event, and thanksgiving and prayer went forth from every hearth and heart. It was this royal scion, born on the Swati asterism, under such unique, and it may be added, critical circumstances, that afterwards became celebrated in Travancore History as Swati Tirunal Rama Varma Maharaja.

Contemporary writers record how, immediately after this domestic occurrence, a white elephant was caught in the Travancore mountains to the intense joy of the queen and her subjects, as the color of the animal indicated an auspicious reign to the young Raja. All the Pandits about court forthwith agreed that this little prince was the legitimate heir to the throne—an opinion in which Colonel John Munro, Dewan-resident, unhesitatingly concurred. Some casuists, however, expressed their doubts as to whether he could, without manifest impropriety, be proclaimed before he was six months old because he could not be carried to the presence of Sri Padmanabha, the family Deity of Travancore kings, until he had attained that age. This technical objection was overruled on further inquiry when the Brahmin priests discovered that there was no real hindrance to his immediate inauguration, in as much as he could very well be proclaimed by the name of Ram Raja, which is a title that may, in such cases, be invariably assumed by the rulers of this State, while for the ceremonies at the temple of Padmanabha, the queen herself could perform them as the Raja’s proxy. Accordingly, on the 29th of July of the same year, the British troops stationed at Trivandrum were drawn out, while the whole of the Travancore military stood on their left. “A throne concealed by scarlet curtains,” observes Walter Hamilton, “was placed in the hall of audience, which being drawn up, the queen appeared seated on it, attended by her minister, the second Tamburatti, the children of the former Rajahs, and the principal Brahmans and State officers.

“A proclamation notifying the accession of the young Rajah was read aloud, and he was brought forward and shown to the assembled multitude, during which time the queen and every other person continued standing. The British troops presented arms, and their band played “God save the King,” while the music of Travancore made a considerable noise.”* On that memorable occasion, Her Highness Lakshmi Bayi spoke as follows: “At the instance of my household Deity, Sri Padmanabhaswami, I have placed this child of mine on the bosom of the Company, and the responsibility for the future support and respectable treatment of this royal scion shall now rest with the Honorable Company. What more need I say?”. It may be easily imagined how this solemn ceremony touched the heart of the distinguished English soldier whose memory will be gratefully cherished in this State for centuries to come. Thus, as, accordingly to the laws of succession in Travancore, this prince was theoretically sovereign even while in his mother’s womb, he has been known to posterity by the auspicious title, Garbhasriman, meaning a person fortunate even en ventre sa mere. The noble queen gave birth to another son, Martanda Varma, in 1815, but two months after this happy event, her premature death deprived Travancore of the benefits of glorious and accomplished rule. The two young princes and their elder sister, Rukmini Rani, were now placed in the hands of their aunt, Gauri Parvati Bai, and their father, Raja Raja Varma Koyi Tampuran of Changanacheri, the former of whom became regent though only thirteen years of age. Those were indeed trying days for Travancore, but the good-natured queen and her sympathetic Anglo-Indian counsellor were able to administer the country as successfully as before. Every possible attention was paid by Colonel Munro and the Rani to educate the princes as became their position. Malayalam and Sanskrit were the first languages taught. Kochupilla Varyar of Harippad, a well-known Sanskrit scholar and poet of the time, was appointed tutor, while the general upbringing of the children was entrusted to their father, Raja Raja Varma, himself a person of no mean literary attainment. The great Rama Varma Maharaja, who died in 1799, had indeed, as Bartolomeo says, “learned English for several months and spoke it exceedingly well,” but he had no chance of studying it in his boyhood. The first rulers of the country destined to enjoy this privilege were, accordingly, the young princes, Rama Varma and Martanda Varma.

A competent English tutor, in the person of Tanjore Subha Rao, was obtained for them by Colonel Munro prior to his departure for England in 1819. Along with this new language, several others, including Persian, Hindustani, Arabic, Tamil, Telugu, Marathi, and Canarese, were added to the program of study, and separate tutors were appointed for each, except Marathi, which was additionally taught by Subba Rao. Even when the two princes were respectively seven and five years old, they learned much more of several of these languages than their age would permit. Eloquent testimony is borne to this fact by Major Welsh, well-known as the officer second in command of the army that put down Velu Tampi Dalava’s insurrection in 1809, but even better as the talented author of “Military reminiscences.” On visiting the court of Rani Parvati Bayi along with the Resident Major McDowell, in response to the invitation of Her Highness on the occasion of the marriage of Princess Rukmini Bayi on the 25th May 1819, the Colonel observes, “There are two young Rajahs at present in the palace; one, the rightful heir to the throne, is now seven years old, a very fine boy. The other is only three or four.

The two young Rajahs made speeches to the new Resident, and the younger, on this occasion, seemed the most at home; amongst other questions, he asked “How are all the gentlemen at Madras?” and sat down very contentedly on the Major’s knee; the heir-apparent not appearing equally to relish his propinquity to a stranger. All through life, these boyish characteristics marked the two princes from each other. The elder Maharajah was grave and of a contemplative turn of mind, while the younger was more sociable and, in consequence, moved more freely in European circles. Another glimpse of the progress of their education is obtained from the same author, who appears to have so much liked them at first sight that he paid a second visit to them, six years later, in 1825. “Being on a tour of inspection,” he writes, “during the month of May and stopping to pass a few days at the residency with Colonel Newail, I had the opportunity of witnessing the studies of the young Rajahs in private and forming an estimate of their progressive acquirement and abilities.

On the morning of the 16th at 10 o’clock, I accompanied the Colonel in his gig without attendants to the fort, where we were immediately conducted to a room in the palace and found them with their father, their sister, her husband, and their schoolmaster ready to receive us. The elder boy, now thirteen, seemed greatly improved in mind, though rather diminutive in person. He read a chapter of Malcolm’s Central India; the Governor-General’s Persian letter on the capture of Rangoon; a passage in Sanskrit; another in Malayalam and seemed equally clever at each. He then took up a book of mathematics, selecting the forty-seventh proposition of Euclid, sketched the figure on a country slate; but what astonished me most was his telling us in English that Geometry was derived from the Sanskrit which was ‘Jawmeter,’ to measure the earth, and that many of our mathematical terms were also derived from the same sources, such as hexagon, heptagon, octagon, decagon, dua-decagon, etc. His remarks were generally apposite, but their language indecent and ungrammatical. This is much to be lamented because with so many studies on hand he can never read enough of English. Correct his idiom, and the master, a very clever Tanjore Brahman, could not speak it much better than himself. His Persian was pure and elegant, but of the other languages, I am too ignorant to offer an opinion. This promising boy is now, I conclude, sovereign of the finest country in India; for he was to succeed to the masnud, the moment he had attained his sixteenth year. The younger brother gave us various specimens of his acquirement, somewhat inferior, of course, to those of the rising sun of the country, but still very fair.”

The above excerpt shows what precious intelligence young Rama Varma possessed, especially when it is remembered that even in Europe the Laws of Comparative Philology were not definitely discovered until at a later date.

It, of course, goes without saying that the defect in grammar and pronunciation, noted by Welsh when His Highness was only thirteen, was gradually remedied after mature experience and contact with Anglo-Indian society.

The prince is known to have very early evinced a remarkable taste for poetry and music. As for the former, it may be said to have run almost in the family as Rama Varma the great and his brother Swati Tirunal Elaya Raja were both poets of a very high standard of merit. Music, however, was young Rama Varma’s forte. No sovereign of Travancore, or for that matter, of any part of South India either before or after his time, has excelled him either as a musician or as a composer of songs. This special turn of his genius too was discovered early, and clever teachers appointed to instruct him in that line. Before the age of sixteen, the royal pupil became a past-master, not only in the numerous languages of his study but also, what is even more wonderful, in the two fine arts for whose patronage in succeeding years his name was destined to pass for a proverb in the country.

On the 20th of April 1829 A.D., the young Maharaja attained his majority and in consequence assumed direct charge of the affairs of the State from Gauri Parvati Bayi, Highness’ aunt. Travancore was then in a very flourishing condition and its finances were buoyant. Colonel Morrison, a sympathetic English officer, was British Resident, and Venkata Rao, paternal uncle of Raja Sir T. Madhava Rao, “an uncommonly handsome, fair, and elegant Carnatic Brahman,” according to Welsh, Dewan of the State. The Maharaja wished to appoint his whilom tutor to this high office, and on the retirement of Venkata Rao close upon the heels of the Resident’s departure, towards the end of the same year, Subba Rao became the controlling head of the administrative machinery, which resulted in the occurrence of other official changes likewise. Subba Rao wished to surpass his popular predecessor and commenced a uniformly successful public career. Mr. Sankunni Menon notes that this Dewan had ‘at the very outset established a reputation far superior to that of Venkata Rao,” and Patchu Muttatu, another Travancore historian, observes that during “his regime there was peace and plenty in the land.” The Huzur Cutcherry and other public offices which had been held at Quilon, ever since 1815, were immediately removed to Trivandrum and located inside the form close to the south of the Maharaja’s Palace itself.

His Highness celebrated the Tulapurushadanam ceremony in the very same year, and after the performance of the Padmagarbhom rite three years later, assumed the exalted title of Kulasekharapperumal. Notwithstanding, however, the admirable way in which public affairs were managed by the young Maharaja and his faithful minister, ex-resident Morrison had related such tales about it to Mr. S. R. Lushington, the then Governor of Madras, that he lost no time in paying a visit to Travancore and satisfying himself of the capacity of its new sovereign for the duty that he had been called upon to perform. A gubernatorial visit was an unprecedented event in the history of this State, and speculations were rife as to how the young ruler would acquit himself in the presence of the august representative of the Company. A humorous story is told of the scrupulously solicitous way in which His Highness’s father, Raja Raja Varma, called the Maharaja by his side and gave forecast of the questions that the Governor was likely to ask him on his arrival, taking due care also to instruct him in giving suitable answers to him.

The genius of the youthful auditor could hardly brook such commonplace tutorian, and after the whole sermon had drawn to a close, the paternal anxiety of the Koyi Tampuran was allayed by the unexpected reply, “Supporting it is the intention of the governor to put me some query altogether different to what have been predicted here, will it simply do for me to answer that I have not been taught to reply to it by my father?” The fact was that His Highness had enough of intelligence and learning to conduct himself with credit before anyone. When the Maharaja shook hands with the Governor rather tightly, the latter, by way of gentle admonition, told Maharaja that the proper method of holding a European’s hand was to do it less tightly. His Highness, it is related, seems to have taken him back by the reply, “Whose hands am I to hold, but those of the Honourable East India Company of which your Excellency is the august representative? I have no other support on earth and am determined to hold the hands of the only one I have as firmly as I can.” It need not be added that the Governor was satisfied even by this maiden repartee of the Maharaja and became highly pleased with his independence, intelligence, and affability. So greatly indeed were the qualifications of Swathi Thirunal for rulership appreciated by Mr. Lushington that two years later, even the subsidiary force stationed at Quilon to watch the movements of the Travancore Government was withdrawn and all responsibility, according to the author of the “Princes of India”, left to the Rajah’. Colonel Malieson says that at this time the new order of government was regarded as firmly established. After emerging triumphant from this preliminary ordeal, the Maharaja was permitted to govern his kingdom without any more interference from the Madras Government. The perpetual maintenance of rigid moral discipline was the highest aim of this Maharaja. Bribery and corruption were put down with a heavy hand, and however much a person might command his respect and affection, once he was found to swerve from the path of duty, he was sure to become a prey to his immediate displeasure. Even such minute matters, as irregularity of attendance in Public Offices, were regularly enquired into and visited with punishment. As an illustration of the strong moral ideal which the Maharaja always kept in view, may be mentioned the fact that when Dewan Reddy Rao returned to Trivandrum from his northern circuit in 1845 after receiving presents from certain private gentlemen, His Highness sternly refused to give him an audience and wrote to him that the disagreeable necessity of a public enquiry could only be avoided by his immediate resignation. Mr. Menon mentions that on another occasion when a Dewan Peishkar was found guilty of corruption, the Maharaja at once wrote to him, “As in course like other mean persons we have dismissed you from your present office. The entire Public Service thus stood in wholesome fear of this sovereign. Even His Highness’s own English and Marathi tutor Subba Rao, for whom he had the highest respect, was removed from office in 1837, on a suspicion of corruption, and though a commission of European and Indian gentlemen after a prolonged enquiry of about two months adjudged him innocent, His Highness could not be made to reinstate him or his two accomplices. Kochusankara Pillai, Peishkar, and Judge Kesave Pillai, in their former places. His Highness allotted a few hours every day for public business and introduced the practice of hearing reports directly from each department of administration. Young men of intelligence, experience, and learning were entertained in the service and given ample encouragement. The historical Pachu Muttatu says that in his reign the power of the monarch and the ability of the ministers as well as the wealth and prosperity of the country were conspicuously great. His Highness, according to the same author, being strongly attached to religion and truth, confided greatly in honest men and punished even the highest officers for dereliction of duty.

In short, the personal share that His Highness took in the administration of his country was so uncommonly large that he has always remained a model for Indian Princes in that matter. Subba Rao continued to be Diwan until 1837. Besides being known for his superior penmanship, this officer was in possession of sound common sense and activity by nature, which he could turn to account as occasion required. Until the arrival of ex-Diwan Venkita Rao to take up the vacant post, Ranga Rao, his brother, and Sir T. Madava Rao’s, however, soon quarreled with Captain Douglas, the Acting Resident, in 1839 and retired on pension. The services of this able Diwan were, nevertheless, appreciated by the Madras Government, who conferred upon him the title of “Rai Raya Rai” as a personal distinction. After this, Subba Rao was again entrusted with the ministerial portfolio till his final resignation in 1842. General Cullen, who had arrived in Travancore as British Resident in the meantime, had brought with him an intelligent Telugu Brahmin by name Krishna Rao, who held the position of Head Diwan Peishkar at the time of Subba Rao’s departure. It was with a view to raise his protégé to the Diwanship that Cullen brought about the resignation of Subba Rao, but the Maharaja, who was intimately acquainted with every detail of these circumstances, could not be made to do that unconscionable deed. Old Reddy Rao, therefore, who was Diwan of Travancore from 1815 to 1822, was brought back and again appointed to the Diwanship, the Head Diwan Peishkar being at the same time permitted to remain in charge of certain departments of the Huzur. Both these officers could not naturally pull on amicably, and on a representation being made to the British Government by the Maharaja, they allowed him to act according to his own views in the matter. Krishna Rao was accordingly dismissed from office and obliged to live at Quilon as he could not set foot in Trivandrum. As if to wreak his vengeance upon the Maharaja for this act, General Cullen brought about the expulsion of ex-Dewan Subba Rao from Travancore, a step which considerably wounded the feeling of His Highness who, as an ideal Kshatriya, had the highest respect for his quondam Brahman Guru. His Highness succeeded in recalling Subba Rao after a few years from Tanjore, but the estrangement of feeling which the event occasioned lasted as long as the Maharaja lived. The unpopular administration of Reddy Rao was brought to a close with the compulsory retirement of that officer in 1845, after which Srinivasa Rao, first judge of the Appeal Court, was appointed Head Dewan Peishkar and placed in charge of the administration. Ex-Diwan Peishkar Krishna Rao was now living in Trivandrum at the suffrance of the Maharaja, and it was found that Srinivasa Rao, though an amiable man, could not cope with the financial and administrative difficulties which confronted him at every step. One morning a Harikkar was sent to summon Krishna Rao to the presence of the Maharaja. Not knowing for what fresh offence he was going to be taken to task by His Highness, Krishna Rao entered the place trembling with fear, but what must have been his joy when, handing over the royal commission of appointment to the Dewanship, the Maharaja told him, ‘Here, Krishna Rao, accept your appointment. I forget and forgive all that is past. From this day you are my man and not General Cullen’s.’

“Go work honestly for the advancement of my country and render every possible assistance to Srinivasa Rao,” Krishana Rao is reported to have replied in faltering Telugu. “Maharaja, I am the slave and waiting boy of your Highness; protect me, protect me.” Krishna Rao, being a man of great natural intelligence and acquainted with every detail of the administration, administered the country wisely and well.

The first work of reform effect was in the dress and discipline of the Nayar Brigade. This Brigade was but a relic of the great standing army of Travancore before 1809, and it was a painful sight to see the sorry way in which its affairs had been looked after until then. New accoutrements were now procured, and the officers were ordered to discipline the sepoys in the European fashion. The horses and clothing of the mounted troops were improved, and the royal stables repaired, to which a menagerie also was added ere long. This was the beginning of the present well-known institution, the Trivandrum Museum and public gardens, which under the able management of Rev. Mr. Pettigrew during the administration of Sri. Seshaiah Sastri became so largely developed in extent and importance, and a cowstall or thozhuppura was constructed near the palace, where fine cows and bullocks were stationed from all parts of India.

Munsiffs’ Court for the disposal of petty civil cases in 1822, and a Zilla Court in the next year were established in Trivandrum in lieu of Huzur Court which caused considerable confusion consequent to the overlapping nature of the judicial and executive functions of the State. In 1835, Cundan Menon, an officer in the British service, was appointed Huzur Dewan Peishkar, and he drew up a code of laws for Travancore, Portions of which still continue to remain valid as Regular 1 of M. E 1011 (1836). This code, the first of its kind ever promulgated in Travancore, consisted of eight chapters, five of which dealt with civil and the remaining three with criminal law.

The Dewan became the supreme magistrate ex officio, and the historian of Travancore notes that in the course of a few months the powers of the judicial department in the State were placed on a permanent footing. In the next year, Cundan Menon completed the garden survey of Travancore which had been commenced by Subba Rao in 1831. In the same year, the Maharaja abolished duty on 165 articles on which till then either land or maritime cess had been levied.

Having himself been able to appreciate the benefits of English education, His Highness had even as early as 1834 induced Mr. Robert, who was then the owner of a private school at Nagercoil, to remove it to Trivandrum with a Government grant in aid. This became the Rajah’s Free School in 1836, and Mr. Robert entered the State service. This was followed by the opening of a few branch schools in other important towns in the State. It was this free school which, under the management of veteran educationists in subsequent years like Mr. Ross and Dr. Harvey, laid the foundation of culture in Travancore.

An observatory was opened in 1837, and Mr. Caldecott, the well-known astronomer, appointed to manage it. He published his observations in the Madras Journal of Literature and Science and the Royal Asiatic Society’s Journal. Dr. Brown, his successor and the scientist to whose astronomical labors Travancore owes a good slice of its present-day fame in scientific circles, after observing that the Maharaja desired that this country should partake with European nations in scientific investigations, says: His Highness was celebrated though for his love of learning, for a cultivated mind, great poetical powers, and a thorough knowledge of many languages. His Highness is well known also for his decision of character and took the whole subject at once under his special protection.”

A charity hospital in Trivandrum was sanctioned in the same year and placed under the supervision of the Palace Doctor. The Kodayar Dam and the Varkkalay Tunnel works were projects which early enough engaged the attention of this Maharaja, and Lieutenant Horsley who was put in charge of the experimental Engineering Department then newly organized was first invited to Travancore with a view to the accomplishment of these schemes. But as the country was then not sufficiently wealthy for embarking on such costly ventures, the ideas remained as such for future administrators of the country to mold into shape. The Irrigation Maramath Department in Nanjinad whose usefulness has been now acknowledged on all hands was also established during this reign. Again, before 1839, all important government publications had to be printed at the C. M. S. Press at Kottayam, and the Sirkar did not feel the disgrace of having no printing establishment of its own.

This too was remedied during this Maharaja’s reign, and Dewan Subba Rao had the satisfaction of issuing the first calendar of Travancore in the very same year. In 1840, certain oyster shells were found on the shores of Kadiyapattanam and Cape Comorin, and the Maharaja wished to renew the pearl fishery on this coast, which exports supposed must have been once largely carried on here. This, too, unfortunately remained merely as a scheme.

In later years, His Highness became extremely religious and spent a good portion of his time in worship and prayer, but sympathy for his people was even then known to be uppermost in his heart. In 1844, the Maharaja paid a visit to the famous shrines of South Travancore, and on hearing that his subjects there were suffering from famine and drought, commanded that the paddy accumulated in Government storehouses might be sold at a nominal price to them. His Highness also caused a splendid car to be constructed for his use, which has ever afterward been the royal vehicle on important State occasions.

Devotion to religion is one of the most distinguishing characteristics of all the sovereigns of Travancore, but with Swathi Tirunal Maharaja, it was almost the ruling passion. People really thought that he was an incarnation of Padmanabha on earth, and on a well-remembered occasion when a big tusker, in the course of the Arat procession to the seashore, became suddenly mad, striking terror and panic into the bravest hearts present, the Maharaja is known to have nailed him to the ground by a simple glance. The Murajapam of 1015 M. E (1840) was one of the grandest festivals ever celebrated in Travancore. Large sums of money from time to time were deposited in the treasury of Sri Padmanabha’s temple, and His Highness is believed to have, on the whole, made an offering of thirty-four lakhs of rupees to the Deity. There is no denying the questionability of a procedure of this kind from a strictly financial standpoint, but His Highness’s devotion to religion was so well-known that nobody had the courage to prevent him from such acts.

It was he who first introduced Kulavazhachirappu, or the decoration of the pillars of the rectangular walk around the inner shrine with Plantain bunches, and when on one occasion Diwan Subba Rao complained that, as usual, unripe bunches of Plantain fruit could not be obtained, ordered the immediate accumulation of ripe ones in place of them, an immensely more difficult matter. His Highness is similarly believed to have once called a superior of the State, had the natural consequence of which was that he became such forthwith. In whatever manner we might explain these occurrences now, it goes without saying that in His Highness’s reign, he was spontaneously paid almost divine respect by all. He added certain buildings to the palace, such as Rangavilas and Puthen Malika, and constructed the Vilakkumatam or rectangular line of lights around the temple of Sri Padmanabha at Trivandrum. It is in regard to his lavish religious expenditure that Thornton alludes to in his Gazeteer of India, when he writes that during the latter years of the Maharaja’s administration, the country was allowed to deteriorate.

It has been sometimes supposed, and not without reason, that His Highness, being a poet and owning a poet’s passionate soul, was driven to seek this consolation by the unnecessary interference of the Residence, General Cullen, in the internal administration of the country. To whatever circumstance it might be attributed, His Highness’ subjects loved him all the more for the religious turn of his mind and evinced a respect and affection for him the like of which has been met with only on rare occasions in Travancore. Even if His Highness had not been born as the ruler of a kingdom, his name would have been indelibly written on the pages of history as an accomplished poet and gifted composer of songs.

His Highness has composed six excellent works in Sanskrit, viz.:

1. Bhaktimanjari
2. Syanandurapuravarnanaprabandham
3. Padmanabhasatakam
4. Ajamilopakhyanam
5. Kuchelopakhyanam
6. Navarathnamala

The first is the longest of his works, consisting of a thousand and one verses in praise of his family deity, Padmanabha. Many well-known Puranic episodes are described, and the work is divided into ten parts or Satakas. The latter half is devoted to a detailed explanation of the meaning conveyed by the term Bhakti. It is difficult to read this grave ohm and not be impressed with the high standard of morality and piety which its author breathes into every syllable of it. The meters are all long and show the time, for as observed by a critic, “if easy writing is d- d hard reading, easy reading is d-d hard writing too.”

The second is a combination of prose and verse in Sanskrit, technically termed Champu, and is recited every morning when His Highness the Maharaja visits the temple of Padmanabha. It is the most exquisite and sublime performance of this poet from a literary standpoint, and for the ten difficult verses in praise of the Deity occurring in it at the close and ending with “Tasmai Deva Namostu Visea Guru Sri Padmanabhayate,” it is believed that there are nearly as many commentaries written by the pandits of the time, which shows how much lofty thought is compressed within that small compass.

The third is a garland of ten Dasakas compressing the story of Srimadbhagavata into a hundred verses, on the model of Narayana-Bhattathiripad’s Narayaniya. Every line of this poem breathes a spirit of the loftiest piety.

The fourth is the story of Ajamila, the voluptuous Brahmin who miraculously obtained salvation by a single utterance of the name of the lord at the moment of his death, and the fifth is that of Kuchela, who similarly became a veritable Croesus in no time by the grace of God. Both of these contain verses and songs like Malayalam Kathakalis and were composed for recitation as Harikathas. The Navaratnamala, or a Garland of nine devotional songs addressed to Sri Padmanabha.

The first of these works has been now printed by the munificence of the Travancore Government, while the fourth and fifth were published during the reign of the brother of the author, Uttram Tirunal Martanda Varma Maharaja. The other poems have not yet been printed, though the substance of the last has been given in Mr. Sankunni Menon’s history*. These poems are not only admired for the sublimity of thought but also for the finish of diction, which they display. In Malayalam, he has written the utsavapurabandhan, a poem describing the utsava or ten days’ biennial festival in the Trivandrum temple.

This is also a mixture of verses and songs. It has been recently republished with devotional and amorous songs. In Malayalam, Sanskrit, Telugu, Canarese, and Marathi, which are even today sung throughout the length and breadth of the Madras Presidency. Many of the Malayalam songs were published in Uttram Thirunal Maharaja’s time. They are even chaster in diction than his verses. There are many admirable passages in the Utsavaprabandham itself, especially the one ending with “Niranjananbhan Nunam.” It is here worthy of record that all his compositions, including even the amorous ones, know of only one theme, viz., that of his family deity Sri Padmanabha. He is even known to have positively declined to write on any other subject, arguing it would be so much waste of time.

No one has encouraged literary men more at any period in Malabar than the subject of our sketch. In his court lived two of the greatest poets of Malabar, viz., Vidvan Koyi Tampuran of Kilimanur and Irayimman Tampi, the latter of whom was no less a composer of songs than of verse. In their company, the Maharajah felt most at ease, and several second-rate poets such as Kochu Pilla Varyar, Ramavaryar, and Kunjikrishnan Potuval were equally encouraged by him. Vidvan Koyi Tampuran had the title Vidvan or ‘the Scholar’ conferred upon him by the Maharaja for the completion of a Sanskrit verse, the first half of which was composed by him. Like King Bhoja of old, his court was the resort of every poet and pandit in India, and even Sanskarnathajosyar, a Smarta of Malabar, who was one of the chief pandits of Maharaja Ranjit Singh’s court, adorned the royal Vidvatsabha. In addition to this, numerous songsters, boxers, medical practitioners, and painters were entertained by His Highness and received presents from him in proportion to their merits. A European, Mr. Schieftt, received a reward of Rs. 12,000 when he drew His Highness’s portrait. In short, there was no science or art that did not obtain its due share of reward at the Maharaja’s Court.

Besides numerous Sanskrit and Malayalam works, a memoir of Travancore by Lieutenant Horsley and an account of the administration of Travancore by Diwan Krishana Rao in English were produced during this reign. In July 1846, the Rev. Mr. Bailey dedicated his Malayalam and English Dictionary for which His Highness promised to defray the whole expenses, in which he writes that it exhibited another instance of the Maharaja’s readiness to encourage and patronize liberal education and the promotion of literature among his subjects. Mr. Peet’s Malayalam Grammar was also published under His Highness’s auspices. “That the life of Your Highness,” wrote Mr. Bailey in his dedication-letter, “may be long spared and that you may be permitted to witness the beneficiary results of the efforts now made to promote good and sound education in the country based on the best principles is the sincere wish of the author,” and this, it may be unhesitatingly added, was the wish of the whole population of Travancore.

The will of the Almighty was unfortunately otherwise, for on the 25th of December in the same year, His Highness then only in his 34th year and therefore still in the prime of youth, was fated to breathe his last. No greater misfortune could befall the country, but it might be added that the successors of Swathi Thirunal Maharaja have tried their level best to maintain the dignity and lustre of the Travancore throne. Sarah Tucker, during her missionary tours in South India, visited Travancore about 1849. She says in her South Indian Sketches about the Maharaja, “He has established a school for native boys in which English is taught. Though a clever and intelligent man, he is still held in bondage by the Brahmin; he has even expended large sums of money to become one himself; but though he has been allowed to purchase some Brahminical privileges, he cannot be fully admitted to the caste, nor can he even eat with his own Diwan who is a Brahmin.”

The author here evidently alludes to the Padmagarbhum and Tulapurushadanam ceremonies. The Elaya Raja, His Highness’s brother, was much more sociable, and consequently she says about him, “He is equally intelligent and less bigoted. He is very anxious for information, fond of reading, and has gone through a course of general history with an English gentleman there. On being one day reminded that it would incur pollution by something he was touching, he merely answered ‘O never mind; a little water will set it all right again.’ Again, on seeing the way in which English ladies spent their leisure time in needlework, the Raja observed that it might be introduced into Indian homes. But when he was asked in reply why, in that case, he did not himself set the example for others, he curtly answered that Indian women were too stupid to learn.” If strict adherence to the observance of one’s religious rites be misnamed bigotry, the Maharaja was a bigot every inch of him. No doubt, if possible, he paid his visit to the British Resident only before 8 o’clock in the morning, both as he openly said to avoid the heat of the day and what might perhaps have been of greater concern to him, to avoid the touch of castes and tribes other than Brahmins and Khatriyas.

The times were responsible, and not he, for such orthodoxy. The rule extended to the female members of the royal household. When, according to the talented author of the South Indian Sketches, an English lady visited the consort of the Raja of Travancore, “she had to do so at eight in the morning, as Her Highness could not touch food till she had bathed and purified herself after the visit of a European.”