Gujarát and the Gujarátis/Baroda

by Behramji Malabari

BARODA.

Leaving Broach, nothing loth to leave, we came to Baroda on the 10th March. The capital of the Guicowárs was to me the Mecca of my pilgrimage.

The Apostrophe.

Land of my birth! After twenty-four years of forced exile, I fly to thee. For a fourth of a century has my spirit yearned to see thee. For a full fortnight have I tried, on the spot, to conjure up thy past glories. But where are they, Baroda? Where are thy traditions, thy institutions? Where are the goody-goody stories which soothed me to slumber and thrilled me into infantile action? Above all, where are thy great institutions, such as the Sáthmári in which human beings were trampled under the elephant's foot (just for the fun of it, you know), where alleged offenders were buried alive, thrown down steep hills, pinned to the wall, rolled in barrels nailed inside? Where are thy Holi festivals, during which a hundred hired houris^[1] frolicked in naked charms in the palace compound, and invited, by a thousand arts, the whizzing liquid of the royal piclikári?^[2] Where are the marriages between doves^[3] and the attendant festivals? Where are the crusades against cats, because one of the feline tribe breakfasted on the feathered bridegroom? Where is thy bracing fever, thy benignant cholera, O land of my birth? Gone, gone are all thy glories, gone for evermore! And instead I see the jail and the court-house, parks and palaces, roads and tanks, schools and colleges; and that monster of a Municipal Commissioner! But enough of interrogatory apostrophisation; it leads to bad blood and bad grammar.

Description of a Durbar.^[4]

A Durbár was held last year in honour of the youthful Guicowar having attained a certain age. The Dewán Sáheb was absent in the district, his duties therefore devolved on his Parsi coadjutor. Half an hour before the Guicowár arrived, the nawábs, the sirdárs, and páttidárs, and a host of other feudatories flocked to the Nazar Bágh. The court officials received them. On entering the state-room, each looked about to see if he had the right seat reserved for him. Your Spanish snobocracy could not be more punctilious in their "reserved-seat" etiquette. It was a sight to see old Kawáb Squaretoes Sakkar-Missari exchanging fiery glances with young Sirdár Hukká-Ckilam Pán Supári. I looked on steadily till my thick upper lip curled up in contempt and my nose expressed my unspeakable disgust at their silent squabble. They simultaneously read my thoughts, and turned upon me with a fierce look which clearly said, "You intruding upstart! What have you to do with our concern? "That glance killed my æsthetic being; but still there I was, a living monument of hardened humanity. But that day I made up my mind, that if I ever went to a Durbár again, I would look as grave as a chancery judge, whatever more exalted people did. Soon after came the Guicowár, as intelligent and fine-looking a young fellow as was ever called upon to grace a gádi^[5]; as cool and collected as if to this "greatest favourite of fortune of our times"—as Sir Mádav Ráo aptly describes him—his present life and his life of five years ago made a very little difference. His Highness was shortly after followed by the British Agent and his staff. When the appointment of Mr. Philip Sandys Melvill to Baroda was first announced, it was considered by the Bombay officials especially as rather out-of-the-way, rather a jobbish appointment. But the Government have been amply justified in their choice. There are few officers in the whole range of the Indian Civil Service who could discharge the duty of the post with greater tact and delicacy. Mr. Melvill's principle seems to be, never to interfere hastily with the Durbár concerns, and a most healthy principle it is. In private he is as humble as he is amiable, one of the very few official Englishmen in India who are not ashamed to own the dusky children of the soil their brethren.

But to return to the Durbár. Well, the Resident sat, and with him the whole assembly. And then rose three noticeable personages from the floor on which they had been squatting. Two muddy-complexioned nymphs,^[6] and the bear-leader, that is to say, the music-master. The former ethereal beings I dare not describe; the latter was a short, healthy Mahomedan, not much under four hundred pounds avoirdupois. I need not say he is a man of great weight. The dusky houris sang a few snatches in a clear vigorous monotone, accompanied by instrumental music on half-a-dozen porcelain cups and saucers by the healthy Mahomedan. The music was not intended for man; so I cannot be a judge of it with justice. It soon ended, to our relief, and was followed by the rubbing of attar^[7] (which has a sweet sickly odour, and a most tenacious regard for your handkerchief) and distribution of pán supári.^[8] Before the Durbár broke up, a tall, lank courtier stepped forward, and offered his stereotyped good-wishes to His Highness, the beginning and, in fact, the gist of which I translate verbatim et literatim for the reader:—"May you bathe in milk, and may you (the future Ráni, that is) bring forth sons." Thus ended the Durbár of 1878.

The People and the Dogs.

From prince to people is a natural transition.The capital of the Guicowars has a population of two lakhs of folk, consisting of men, women, and children, with a thick sprinkling of Páhriá, dogs. The men may be divided into two classes—the snobbish and the sheepish. The former perpetually chew pán supári, wear huge turbans, and drive about in the tiniest carriages dragged along by wee little bullocks, an inch or so smaller in size than our Bombay goats. The more bloated the face, and the smaller the carriage and bullock, the readier is room made for the owner by the awe-struck pedestrian. Women may be divided into three classes—wives, widows,and prudes; the first rule their husbands, the second rule their shops, the third may have been intended to scare away the small boys and dogs, and generally go about veiled and without shoes.

They are very helpful to the Police, in that way, and honest citizens avoid them somehow. The little boys of Baroda may be described as "sad dogs," and the dogs as "gentlemen at large." These gentlemen seem to enjoy more privileges than their biped brethren. You will see one of them of an evening basking and luxuriating in the sunshine and street dust, his red tongue lolling out, absolutely refusing to make room for the state carriage, or any other carriage, until he is taken hold of by his southern extremity^[9] and flung bodily into the neighbouring basket of sugar cakes. Even under such trying circumstances his serenity is undisturbed.

H. H. the late Máhárájá Khanderáo.

It is said the late lamented Máhárájá Khanderáo Guicowár was very partial to this race of philosophers. His late Highness was a genuine "ruler of men," brave as Rustom, and munificent as Jamshed, though perhaps not so wise as Solomon. He had strong likes and dislikes. But his failings were always amiable. One of these was, that he thought himself a born Esculapius. He had a remedy for all diseases, known and unknown, and used to physic everyone about him. He used to experiment on a large scale. The shortest way to his favour was to go and say you had the belly-ache—by far the most usual complaint among the Barodites. Well, His Highness would straightway repair to the dispensary, and return with a large bowl containing some vile mixture, which you must quaff at a draught and without giving the slightest indication of a wry face. On the contrary, unhappy patient, you must smile while drinking the royal nostrum. If you do not grin in the most approved court fashion, you are a ruined man. Well, after you have swallowed the poisonous stuff, make a low bow to the royal physician, and retire to the adjoining room. Going to eject the dose on the sly? Do not attempt it, poor deluded wretch, there are two royal eyes gloating over thy misery. Go to sleep over the potion, though thy inner man may be on the fire of h————l the while. Return in half an hour to report progress; smile and simper and bow and scrape and loudly bepraise the medicating genius of thy master. Then go thy way, thy fortune is made. In this direction His Highness was not less busy than my Aunt Charity. His Highness also knew some occult science, such as alchemy which means, I suppose, the science that treats of extracting sunbeams from cucumbers.

Disposal of Dogs.

But to come to the gentlemen dogs again. I fear they make it too hot for "His Highness's" other loyal subjects, and must either be banished, or the municipal commissioner ought to give them a uniform and set them to some "Imperial" work. The Afghan war has not yet quite ended, and the Zulu war may begin anew. The illustrious Ráma had Hanuman's monkey-army to fight his battles with Ráwana; why may not Baroda send to one of the frontiers a contingent of its canine cavalry?

Summing-up.

To sum up, Baroda is a good place enough, but it is dull, dull beyond description. There is no living here; it is a mere humdrum existence. Between the people and the "upper ten thousand" there is no sympathy. You have no such institution as Society.

Exhortation.

How is it there is no missionary here? I demand. Import one, ye powers that be; he is indispensable to progress and enlightenment. Get up popular lectures and street-preaching. "Steady internal progress," and all that, is very well, but let the people learn to enjoy life under your administration. In their present state they are almost justified in looking back. Let them forget the past. The "glorious" reign of rapine and plunder and the degrading superstition, they must be taught to hold in horror. Give them something on the strength of which they may fondly look forward. Let the agricultural interests of your people claim your deepest consideration. Get up cattle shows, and agricultural shows, and vegetable shows. Get up, if not fine, industrial arts exhibitions.

The Viscount, the Sáthmári, and the Popinjay.

Attend all ye who, &c., to a soul-stirring account of the Baroda Sáthmári, which implies an elephant fight, but really means much more than that. In the year of grace 1879, 12th day of April, it pleased my Lord of Hinchinbrook, a Government guest, to ask to be shown the elephant fight. To hear a live lord is to obey; and instantly were issued thundering despatches from the acting Dewan's department to "all concerned," namely, one parrot, two elephants, eight buffaloes, two rhinoceroses (I am not quite sure if these officials are not called hippopotamuses, but both are bad, long words, and might be fairly interchanged), twelve rams, and sixteen wrestlers, a superior race of animals, who looked almost men, short and sleek and close-shaven. These doughty champions met at about five on the eventful evening, at a sort of house in the heart of the town, variously described to me as a palace, a bakery, and a charnel-house. I believe it was a palace in ancient times, when "horses were kings." At present, it is a skeleton house, exceedingly seedy and sensitive, but with an air that eloquently reminds one of better days. Adjoining this house of mystery is a spacious compound, the battle scene, that is to say, and surrounding it are the menagerie and stables. The tamáshá^[10] opened with an acrobatic exhibition. A man stood on a rickety frame-work of wood, resting on a table, another man taking somersaults on the arms and shoulders of number one. I do not very well remember this part of the performance, but have a vivid recollection of the concluding part, when the wooden framework came to grief, and with it the two jack-pudding snobs. It was a relief to know that both escaped serious accidents, one having broken his pate, the other only his shins.

Then came the accomplished parrot, who flourished his miniature sword, with his beak of course, bent his bow and shot his arrows, and, what is more amazing still,loaded his tiny cannon with gunpowder, lit the touch and—fired! The feathery hero wrought wonders. The skill of a British general is nothing to the versatile genius of this gymnast, archer and artillery soldier. Indeed, that parrot is a genius! May this record immortalise thee, O Prince of Popinjays!

The rhinoceroses gave each other very warm reception. About this time last year, when His Excellency Harun-Al Raseid^[11] graced the sáth-mari, these sulky warriors would not close, though every gentle persuasion—such as poking into their eyes, nose, and other tender parts, the long-pointed bhálo^[12]—was exhausted. Lord Hinchinbrook was more fortunate. Old Rhinos fought for him, as Isaid, and fought valiantly and well. The elephants, too, "went in for it" right cheerfully, and it was a sight to see these black moving hills of flesh tugging and lugging and heaving away as earnestly as if, on the issue of their contest, depended the scientific rectification of our frontier. Poor beasts! And yet why poor beasts? Are they not considered the paragons of womanly beauty by the Hindus? "Oh, elephant of my heart," was the tender exclamation with which our ancient fathers used to greet our great-grand-dames during courtship and honeymoon. Ask Sir Mádov Row, who is an authority on Hindu literature, from politics to poetry. And yet your modern Mary Ann would not relish the compliment if her Brown met her behind the kitchen door with, "Ho helephant of my 'art!" But I am sure the ancient Munis^[13] and Rishis^[14], the venerable sires to whose genius we owe the Vedas and other Shastras, did address their "old flames" as above, when in a frolic mood.

The buffaloes and rams butted away beautifully. Brisk and energetic was the meeting of the bovine heroes, and their parting, oh! so very slow and unwilling.

But before finishing this catalogue of intelligent fighting brutes, the faithful historian should not omit the wrestlers—bless my eyes, how very like men they look at times! They first make each other a make-believe bow, then shake each other by the paws, and then close. They rub and scrub and curry-comb each other till both drop on earth, where they go through a process of mutual kneading, and finally they mix, these fat, living butter-barrels, and there you lose their identity; you cannot, for the life of you, say which is which. And here ends my description of the sáthmari.

But let me just run you off one screed. I was asked last year by agreat man, aman of advanced views, what I thought of the fight. I praised the affair as faintly as a devoted husband praises his mother-in-law, and then gently insinuated,

"But don't you think, Sir———, it is a barbaric if not a barbarous pastime?" That insinuation cost me a fine lecture, in the course of which I was told of the great power such exhibitions have to excite our martial instincts. I blushed (in imagination) at my stupid want of enthusiasm, and later on, when I read a work in which the Parsis are eloquently exhorted to go to and conquer Persia, I said to myself, says I, "The Baroda sáthmari is the only thing that can rouse my slumbering patriotism." Hence my second trip to the capital of the Guicowárs.

Official Dignitaries.

In the course of the two visits to Baroda, I was able to make the acquaintance, more or less, of all the official dignitaries. Sir Mádav Row I saw during the first visit, with two or three members of his council. It is impossible, of course, not to be favourably struck with such a man. My visit lasted less than half an hour. At Baroda also I had the honour of the acquaintance of the Resident, Mr. Melvill, and of Major and Mrs. Nutt. As I have caught hold of the Baroda Administration Report for 1877-78, I think it may be best to give, in a few lines, my impressions about these gentlemen individually, in connection with their official work. To begin at the beginning.

H. H. Maháráni Jamnábái, C.I.E.

This august widow of the illustrious Mahárájá Khanderáo, seems to be extremely popular with her people. Bráhmins worship her more fervently than they worship Bráhmá. According to official reports, she is a highly intelligent woman, and extremely dharmi.^[15] She is, of course, at the head of the palace, and the palace expenditure having been left to Her Highness's control has happily increased by about a lakh.^[16] Last year's item stands at sixteen lakhs and odd (£160,000). There are several departments of the palace—the household, kárkhánás, and dharmádága being the principal. Each of these costs considerably over six,four, and four lakhs, respectively. With the utmost respect for Her Highness's prudential instincts, I submit the dharmádagá items are disastrously heavy. The kárkhánás include the jewel establishment, the elephants, horses, bullocks, fireworks, sporting establishments, dancing girls, and the athletes, that is,the animals employed in the arena. The dharmádagáis maintained for giving khichri^[17] to the poor and gifts to the Bráhmins. Looking to the item under this head, Ido not wonder at the report that some of the mendicant Bráhmins of the royal household are millionaires. But next year we are promised wholesale economy. We all remember how Her Highness was invested with the Imperial Order of the Crown of India. That evening Mr. Melvill proposed Her Highness's health at a royal banquet. In returning thanks the gallant Dewan broke out into lusty eloquence, likening Her Highness to Venus. But, it may be remembered, it was to the Venus of Astronomy, not of poetry, that the sage poet-politician likened his royal mistress. The Maháráni is doubtless a remarkable woman—she is firm of hand and strong of will. She is said to be a capital horsewoman, and fond of riding out into the open districts, and all that sort of sport. She is equally fond of music and dancing; and she is the mother of little Tarábái, married recently to the Sáwuntwári chief.

H. H. Siájiráo.

His Highness the young Maharaja is the object of Ráni Jamnábái's instant and constant solicitude. The Agent, the Dewán, and the tutor are agreed in thinking him an exemplary youth of his class. His arithmetic is necessarily weak; but it must be remembered that none of his ancestors had a genius that way. And if he had an arithmetical turn of mind, why should he have been reserved for a gádi? His progress in languages is, however, satisfactory. He is now reading the Children's Friend, a book without an equal. Why should he not read a little of Chesterfield now and then? His Highness is also studying Chemistry, Political Economy, and Geography. All this while his physical development is being taken care of. In the midst of all this good-natured progress-puffery, I am much gratified to find Mr. Melvill's sober testimony as to the young Guicowár being hitherto "untainted in his moral character." That was three years ago; H. H. is now married and a father into the bargain. It looked almost impossible that a youth, with Siájiráo's private surroundings and his unfortunate physical precocity, should long remain untainted; but the official testimony must be accepted.

The Ex-Guicowár Mulhár Rao.

This gentleman is said to be doing as well as could be—we half think better than while he was in hukumát^[18] His expenses, ordinary and extraordinary, are being regularly supplied to him. Dr. Seward^[19] treats him and his family, we are told, with a "combination of firmness and tenderness."

The Governor-General's Agent.

Of Mr. Melvill's worth and abilities I have spoken elsewhere at length. Let us now see what the Dewán has got to say of him. And who better able to speak of the Agent than the Dewán Sir Mádav Row, after gratefully acknowledging "the generous confidence and uniform support" accorded to his administration by the Government of India, records the following brief acknowledgment to Mr. Melvill:—"The administration is deeply indebted to Mr. Melvill, who, as Agent to Governor-General, does all that is possible to give effect to the high aims and to follow the great principles of the Government of India." From all that I know of Baroda affairs, Ican honestly bear out Sir Mádav Row's opinion of the Agent of the paramount power. Mr. Melvill has nothing of the petty intermeddling spirit which, unfortunately, characterises the generality of Political Agents; and being above local prejudices, he discharges his duties of arbiter between the State and its vassals with a calm impartiality which seldom leaves room for appeal. Though ready and anxious to help forward the good work inaugurated by Sir Mádav Row, he never yields an inch where principles require firmness and consistency.

The Rájá Dewán.

This veteran administrator is an élève of the Madras University, a Maráthá Brahmin by race, and a Tanjorian by birth. He owes much of his early education I believe, to Christian missionaries. These facts may prove instructive to the cockneys whose feeble wit is never tired of railing at "the benighted presidency," and at the efforts of foreign padris. I know little of young Mádav Row's academic career; but it must have been far above the common run, to judge from the fact that soon after leaving college he was taken in hand by the Director of Public Instruction, Mr. Evan Powell. He seems to have started in life as a schoolmaster, and sometime after is said to be in Government employ. At this stage he attracted the notice of one of the Arbuthnots, at whose recommendation, probably, Mr. Mádav Row came to be tutor to the first Prince of Travancore, and ultimately the Dewán. This prince, now Máharájá, is considered, an educated and accomplished sovereign, and an enlightened ruler. This is, no doubt, partly due to the influence of His Highness's tutor. It was for his successful administration of Travancore, I believe, that Sir Mádav Row was knighted by the paramount power. He was then invited by the Máharájá Holkar to take charge of his State as Dewan. Here he remained for some years, and managed to secure the esteem and goodwill of, if not the Máharájá, the British Government and the people.

Sir Mádav at Baroda.

Early in 1875, on the deportation of Muhlár Rao Guicowár, our Government cast about for a pilot capable of steering Baroda, a most unseaworthy vessel, clear of the dangers and difficulties surrounding it. Their choice fell on Sir Mádav Row, and it has at least partially been justified. Indeed, it would not be transgressing truth if Isaid, on his own authority, that in the past three years this able Máráthá minister has worked wonders. He has almost cut through formidable rocks of Girásia^[20] and Sirdárs^[21] claims, crossed the shoals of internal and external opposition, refilled the sands of the almost run-out revenue glass, bridged over boundary chasms,^[22] spread the light of education where once "reigned and revelled "the gloom of ignorance; the judicial, financial, and sanitary "chaos," he has reduced to "order," which, Edmund Burke tells you, is "the foundation of all good things." Instead of the army of athletes who expended their brute force in wrangling with brute creatures, Sir Mádov Row introduced an army of intellectual wrestlers who fight their foes in their several provinces with faithful courage. Mulhár Ráo's Baroda was the most uncleanable of Augean stables; but with their brooms and mops and spades (no offence, gentlemen, this may be a fine Sanskrit figure) the enlightened warriors have swept away all abuses, and made it all "sweet and clean" for young Siáji Ráo and his little family of eighteen lacs.^[23]

Administration Details.

But to come to the particulars of the year under review—1878. On the outset, I am favourably impressed by the Dewán's endeavours to "conserve the rights and privileges" of his State. These endeavours have culminated in the reduction, to its minimum point, of the active interference of too many British officers (neighbouring, I believe) in the internal administration of the State. This is a great triumph for Baroda, and equally creditable to the persistent representations of the Durbár and the liberal good sense of the paramount power. Oh that other native States of Western India were half so handsomely treated! And oh that these States deserved to be so treated! But interjections are wasted upon Government officials and native Kárbháris.^[24] In the year under review, the Dewán obtained the loan, from the Bombay Government, of the able Civilian, Mr. Joshua King, for the settlement of "girás" disputes. The Minister also confesses to having invested to some extent in municipal dead stock, an arrangement sure to benefit the live stock of Baroda in the end. In the same year were sanctioned or expended Rs. 2,30,000 for medical buildings, of which the New Jamnábái Dispensary costs Rs. 86,000, and is pronounced by Dr. Cody as "unsurpassed at least in this country," in its management for the "comfort, convenience, and privacy of the patients." Dr. Cody may be right in his estimate of this gem of a dispensary. But I, too, have seen dispensaries in Kattywár, which are, and willremain for a century to come, quite "unsurpassed."

An Unsurpassable Dispensary

For instance, there was one at Máliá. It was in a nice little hovel, and was conducted on catholic principles; for, not only was it free to light and rain, but even beasts of the field and birds of the air found free access to it. For some time, I was told, the dispensary had not been working; but I found that this assertion could not be borne out; for I myself saw a number of respectable-looking mice experimenting with the surgical instruments, and a number of big stalking spiders surrounding the blue bottles with a fantastic network. I have no right to recommend a study of this " passed "dispensary to Dr. Cody, now that he has been so politely feasted and toasted, and bowed out of Baroda.

Finance.

In spite of liberal disbursements under all heads, it is gratifying to see that the Dewán so well keeps up his financial position. Soon after the assumption of office, he roughly estimated the normal revenue of Baroda at about 110 lacs, and the normal expenditure at 105 lacs. The receipts for this year, I note, amount to 120 lacs, which is more by 10 lacs than what the Dewan first estimated. The disbursements for this year are 122 lacs, which is more by 17 lacs than the original rough estimate. Both the receipts and the disbursements were, however, mainly influenced by the bad year on one hand, and the consequent extraordinary expenditure on the other. Last year's financial statement is a better criterion, in which I find the receipts to be 133 lacs, and the expenditure about 105 lacs. The amount invested in Government notes stands at one crore and two lacs^[25] at the end of the year under review. Altogether the financial position is most satisfactory. The report gives promise of curtailment in several departments, especially the palace and the military. This is a healthy move. But the double marriage at Baroda has absorbed a fat fraction of Sir Mádav Row's cherished hoards once basking in the sunshine of 4½ per cent, interest.

The Rájá Dewan as a whole—the Bright Side.

The Rájá Sir T. Mádav Row is an avowed admirer of Anglo-Indian statesmanship, and his administration thus far of one of the largest native States in India has been thoroughly British in character. Whether this administration—a most interesting experiment initself—has been or is likely to be a complete success, time alone can tell. Sir Mádav Row went to Baroda with a reputation for rare political ability, and he has given ample proof, at least, of his industry and perseverance. Sir Dinkar Row and Sir Mádav Row were the likeliest men for the coveted prize. Baroda was then bordering on anarchy, thanks to Mulhár Rao's gross misconduct. The finances were at a low ebb; the administration of law and justice was arbitrary and uncertain; and, to be brief, bath State and society, were completely demoralised. It required a strong hand to restore the prestige of justice and law, and to check the sirdárs, zemindárs, and other hereditary hangers-on in their career of oppression on one hand, and extravagance on the other. The public, the Maráthá people especially, had made up their minds as to the appointment of Sir Dinkar Row. The Government of India, however, nominated Sir Mádav Rao, who was generally understood to be the more liberal-minded statesman of the two. But somehow this appointment did not please the public of Western India. Sir Mádav Row came on the scene as a friend, but the Guicowár subjects instinctively, perhaps unjustly, called out "save us from our friend." The attitude of both Maráthás and Gujarátis was rather ominous, and it no doubt damped the spirit of the ardent administrator, whose career had hitherto been a series of triumphs. To add to the discomforts of his position, the Government of Bombay "looked with a severe eye" upon the intruder from the south, whom Holkar had only recently found to be too "advanced" for his slow-going subjects. But the fiat had gone forth, and Sir Madáv alone could rescue Baroda from anarchy. He had only a short time previously afforded Lord Northbrook^[26] great pleasure by his astronomical lucubrations. He was generally allowed to be a man of talent, one of the most educated men in India, with a will and capacity for work. Thus came His Excellency to Baroda, conquering and to conquer. Luckily for him, the Government sent a local Agent and Resident who was well qualified by temperament and training to second His Excellency in every detail of administration. The Dewán of Baroda had, indeed, good cause to be thankful for the appointment of Mr. P. S. Melvill; and the recent rumour of Sir Mádav Row's resignation simultaneously with the approaching retirement of his friend, the Political Agent, although unconfirmed, takes some colour from the fact of their cordial and intimate relations.

Sir Madav Row on setting to work, formed a ministry of some of the ablest native servants of the Government of Bombay. He skilfully distributed the work of administration, reserving to himself the supreme control of affairs in every department. He requested his subordinates to find him as much money as they could by honest means. The result was, that within a year the Dewán was able to show a surplus. Arrears of State dues were recovered, fresh contracts were made on advantageous terms; sirdárs and other idle pensioners were told to shift for themselves; the Ráni-mother (Queen-Dowager) and the Guicowár elect were informed that they must not exceed their already liberal allowances, and that the State would not be responsible for any extra-vagance in which they might indulge. Having procured finances, the Dewán entered upon a series of reforms, revenue, judicial, municipal, and educational. A glance at his elaborate annual reports will show that Sir Mádav Row has done more than was anticipated. He has changed the face of Baroda. He has introduced various reforms, developed industries, and encouraged individual enterprise. Two years ago in "letting off" a couple of marriages, he exhibited the resources of the country and gave to European visitors a taste of Oriental hospitality such as is seldom offered even at the durbárs of Rájás.

The Shadow Side.

But in spite of all this prosperity, Sir Mádav Row's administration of Baroda is far from popular either with the Maráthás or the Gujarátis. Sir Mádav Row is not only an avowed admirer of Anglo-Indian statesmanship; he is a servile imitator of the same. He worships routine and centralization. The result has been disastrous, as it could hardly be otherwise in a state where the masses are yet struggling with poverty and ignorance. What can be more exasperating to the poor illiterate khedu,^[27] used to direct appeal and rapid decision, than to have to carry his grievance from his village to the town, and thence to the district, and finally to the capital. Another fault in the Dewán is that he insists on exercising direct control over the minutest departmental detail, even to the employment or dismissal of a sepoy. His municipal and other reforms are confined to the principal towns. The Mofussil^[28] is a howling wilderness. Roads, irrigation, and all other essentials of material progress are conspicuous by their absence. The people, all Gujarátis of the "mild Hindu" type, are committed to the mercy of the Maráthá officials—men not only unacquainted with the concerns of rural life in Gujarát, but destitute of all sympathy with the people. The sure and short road to popularity at head-quarters is increase of revenue. To the unscrupulous official nothing is impossible in this direction. The Bombay papers have reported many instances of oppressive taxation introduced on frivolous pretexts, and various taxes of the kind are still levied, although the nominal reasons for them no longer exist. Sir Mádav Row has sense enough to see that, with the people arrayed against his administration, he has no chance of ultimate and permanent success. Intelligent and beneficent as that administration has been, as compared with the state of things which preceded it, there is yet lacking in it, as in its "Imperial" model, many of the qualities essential to efficiency.

Popular disaffection is already finding vent in newspaper articles and in anonymous pamphlets, in which the writers accuse Sir Mádav Row and his co-adjutors of crimes the most repulsive and hateful. These may be all—no doubt some of them are—a tissue of malicious fabrications, but they augur no good to the now very much-embarrassed ministry.

Khán Bahádur Kázi Sháhbuddin.

This able revenue officer is a Mahomedan, and was once upon a time in British employ as Mámlatdár. I can trace him only so far back; his official identity beyond that is to me shrouded in mystery. That he was once a school-boy and so on, I allow; but his personal history I shall reserve till he retires, or at least becomes a member of the Legislative Council. From a mámlatdár, Kázi Sháhbuddin came to be a Deputy-Collector. He then entered the service of His Highness the late Rao of Kutch. Since then, I believe he has been at Baroda. He can, therefore, be fairly supposed to have a greater knowledge of the "ins and outs" of Baroda than any other brother officer of his. Kázi Sháhbuddin has a remarkably clear head, and his revenue administration of Baroda would do credit to any English Civilian in India. In the dismal history of Mahomedan management of public affairs in this part of India, Kázi Sháhbuddin's official career is the only "shining part." The flourishing state of Baroda revenues, and the comparative ease with which they are collected, speak much for him. "With a rare mastery of details, he knows and appreciates large principles, and applies them with judicious modifications, to the existing state of things." So says Sir Mádav Row, and he ought to know what he says. Kázi Sháhbuddin is well known for his pleasant manners and accommodativeness, and during the recent scarcity in Gujarát he discovered a vein of philanthropy as charming as it was original. He kept under his protection several famine refugees, and is said to have been wonderfully hospitable to them.

Khán Bahádur Pestonji Jehángir.

This Parsi official commenced his career, years ago, under the auspices of the British Government; and since his entrance into public service up to this day he has been recognised as, perhaps, the ablest native officer in the department under which he has served. He is best known in this Presidency as Settlement Officer; and as such he has always commanded the approval and confidence of his Government. He went to Baroda, six years ago, with a reputation for ability, independence, and rectitude. His duties at Baroda are of a most delicate and complex nature, involving the awards of very considerable sums of money; and he discharges them with a judicious care that often entitles his decisions to the respectful acceptance of both parties. The department over which Mr. Pestonji presides is, in many respects, the most difficult, and it certainly could not be in better hands. In the course of the year under review the Settlement Department is reported to have disposed of 1,067 cases, some of them involving immense labour and judicial acumen.

Khán Bahádur Cursetji Rustomji.

This gentleman, a Parsi also, is a protégé of the British, under whom he has occupied several judicialposts. He has a very respectable knowledge of English law, and is a fine Márathá scholar. He is a slow, shrewd, and competent officer, and at present occupies the important office of "Chief Justice"^[29]of Baroda. He presides over the Varishtá Court, and transacts business in relation to original and appeal suits with much discrimination. Mr. Cursetji Rustomji is assisted as Puisne Judge by

Rao Bahádur Janárdan Sakhárám Gadgil, very well known for his power of manipulating figures, in which business he has rendered himself useful to the Dewán. Mr. Gadgil was some years ago connected with Bombay journalism, be it whispered gently. Under the Varishtá Court there are, in all, 123 inferior tribunals, with 126 judges, which, to be mathematical, gives the satisfactory ratio of 1.024390 judges to 1 court. Among these finely decimalised administrators of Guicowári law may be mentioned the well-known Mr. Ambálál Sákerlál, Mr. Raoji Vittal, and Mr. Gunesh Shitárám Shástri. The cost of the whole judicial organisation for the year is put down at Rs. 3,73,000, against which there is a set-off of Rs. 2,81,000, in the shape of stamps, fees, fines, &c.

Ráo Bahádur Vináyekrow J. Kirtane.

This zealous officer I have been industriously and impatiently looking about for, till Ifind him sadly mixed up with the Police. Mr. Kirtane is a quadrupal officer, managing the Khángi,^[30]the General, the Educational, and the Police Departments. He seems to be a most efficient and able officer, and has rendered very good service to the Dewan in the matter of police organisation and reform during this year. Sir Mádav speaks with cordial approval of "the rare amount of knowledge, thoughtfulness, and sustained though unostentatious energy" which this officer has expended on the discharge of his onerous and multifarious duties. The strength of the city police force is represented by 1 superintendent, 8 inspectors, 72 subordinate officers, 245 peons,^[31] 20 sowars,^[32] 4 detectives, and 42 men on office establishment. Besides the usual police expenditure of Rs. 95,508, an extraordinary grant of Rs. 13,923 was made this year. Mr. Superintendent Tubak, generally known in Bombay, has been thanked by the Dewan for having guarded grain-shops during the recent scarcity.

Mr. G. F. H. Hill, CE.

This gentleman is State Engineer at Baroda, and the Department under him has done "very creditable work," to judge from former reports. The total outlay by Mr. Hill's department during the year is Rs. 6,37,000. His office establishment has been materially strengthened, and special addition has been made for purposes of account and audit, which will cost annually Rs. 18,000. An additional sum of Rs. 25,000 was also sanctioned for fair weather roads in the Amreily Division. This latter amount, the Dewán Saheb says, was partly spent "usefully," and partly, I should say, "wastefully." Sir Mádav Row forgets that nothing under the sun is perfect. However, His Excellency is not behind-hand in Oriental compliment. He says, "Mr. Hill maybe congratulated on the excellent manner in which several of his subordinates have served the department"! So he may. Besides Mr. Hill, the State Engineer, Baroda has a "Special" Engineer,

Mr. Crosthwait.

This gentleman seems to have rendered signal service to the State in connection with the water-supply and drainage works, and also in devising means to restrain the floods of the Viswámitra—an annually recurring danger. It is satisfactory to learn that the bunds (embankments) erected by Mr.Crosthwait have proved very useful. Mr. Crosthwait is also reported to have investigated the means of lowering the floods; and it is to be hoped that his suggestions may prevail. Sir Mádav Row's allusion to the durability of the old "unscientific" bridges is very apt in this connection. It is a foregone conclusion with all, I presume, that the old works executed by practical native engineers, are far better, at least in their usefulness, than the æsthetic "lumps of sugar" we now see springing up in all parts of India. These latter afford an illustration of engineering science run mad.

Mr. Dinshá Ardeshir Taleyárkhán.

A name very well known as that of an ardent and honest political reformer. As a journalist Mr. Dinshá has done much good service, at the same time making himself very unpopular with the ultra-patriotic class, whose dictum is "Let a hundred people die under native misrule, rather than ten of them be saved by British interference." Mr. Dinsha's persistent and manly exposure of the management of the native states of Sucheen, Dharampore, Káttywár, and even Baroda, has resulted in great public good; and his waging war single-handed upon such fearful odds is, initself, indicative of the moral stamina he possesses. Besides editing the Gujarát Mitra, he has written innumerable pamphlets, and I do suspect he has dabbled in blank verse! But in spite of the latter weakness, which comes natural to all (even Bacon and Franklin have perpetrated some glum atrocities of the kind), I hardly know of any native journalist of Western India who is his better in perseverance and devotion, though there have been some capital native journalists, too, in the past generation.

Since the assumption of ministerial office by Sir Mádav Row, Mr. Dinshá has been working under him as Municipal Commissioner of Baroda, in which capacity he is reported to have rendered a good account of himself.

"That officer is full of genuine zeal, and diligently looks after details with care and thoughtfulness. He has made steady approaches to order and system in the operations of his department. He has overcome, with temper and tact, the natural apathy or positive resistance of the people concerned. Indeed, he may be said to have achieved a certain measure of popularity for his department. I have heard expressions of appreciation and thankfulness from even such citizens as are distinguished for intense conservative ideas. And strangers visiting the city at distant intervals have' borne testimony to progressive improvement in terms satisfactory and encouraging."

So says Sir Mádav Row, and the Agent bears him out. This is another refutation, if needed, of the vulgar prejudice that journalists never make good men of business. Mr. Jánardan S. Gádjil is another member of the fourth estate whose services to Baroda have proved valuable.

Mr. F. A. Elliot, C.S.,

is the tutor to His Highness the young Guicowár. This excellent officer has succeeded very well in his delicate, if not arduous work. His report of the progress made during the year by his princely pupil is in itself a certificate of his own high abilities and character. The young Guicowár was fortunate in having secured the services of such a man for his guide, philosopher, and friend.

The High School is flourishing as well as it could under Mr. Tait. That officer is highly spoken of for his abilities and zeal. The Baroda High School matriculated four of its students last year (1877), two of whom entered on a collegiate course, with a scholarship of Rs. 20 each. The Guicowár Sirkár have also founded several scholarships and prizes for lower standards, and Kázi Sháhbuddin bestows two scholarships on deserving Mahomedan students. Not the least noticeable feature of State Education in Baroda is the establishment of the "Anglo-Indian Institution," for European and Eurasian children. This is a most desirable institution, and I am glad the Agent takes especial interest in its welfare.

The vernacular schools are flourishing under Mr. Bhogilál Pránvullub Dass, a well-known man with whose name strange liberties seem to have been taken—perhaps with reason.

One of the most useful agencies of the Administration is the Medical Department, virtually, I presume, under the control of Dr. Bhálchandra, the hero of the Cæsarian section.^[33] It is curious to see how kindly Hindus have of late been taking to the medical profession. They seem to be most successful in the line, too; decidedly more so than the Parsis. That is owing to the fact that they do not become quite biláti^[34] in their treatment. There are in all six medical officers in the Baroda territory, among whom Dr. Bhai stands pre-eminent for his rare abilities and tact. "He is specially conspicuous for popularity, and has earned confidence at the Palace," says the Dewan, and this is saying a good deal. The profession ought to be proud of Mr. Bhálchandra. The other officers, too, are doing much useful work in various sections, especially my friend Mr. Rustomji Hormusji.

I do not think I have omitted any officer except the argus-eyed Appáji Rámchandra, whose close grasp on the Guicowár's money-bags is making "itself felt more or less in all departments." Ráo Sáheb Appáji was the right man in the right place, and the heads of all departments stood in awe of him. In him was centred the glory of good works at Baroda. Mr. Motirám Goculdáss, too, is a likely man—quite a gem of a treasurer.

Non-Official Magnates.

Of the non-official notabilities at Baroda, Gopal Row Myrál, the renowned banker, or his heir, stands first. He is the Rothschild of Baroda, and knows—at least his book could tell you—much more about the Guicowárs than anyone else could. Among the Sirdár class the Nawáb of Baroda is eminent. The Nawáb Sáheb is hospitality itself. Some time ago he gave a "supper party" to the élite of Baroda. Knives, forks, and spoons were introduced for the first time; and though the guests may be supposed to have handled them freely, these instruments of torture did grievous mischief to the worthy host and his heirs. Medical aid was immediately required. Let us draw a veil over bleeding tongues and chopped fingers! The poor Nawab Sáheb left "this world of woes" almost a year ago. He was a very popular man.

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1. Verybrown nymphs.
2. Syringe. Mulhár Ráo Guicowár used to play at this very delectable game.
3. Khanderáo Guicowár celebrated the marriage of his two favourite doves with royal pomp.
4. A court and political reception; a sort of levee.
5. Throne
6. Dancing girls.
7. Otto of roses.
8. Betel leaf and the nut.
9. The tail
10. Public show.
11. Sir Ricahrd Temple
12. Lance
13. Sages.
14. Seers.
15. Charitable.
16. A hundred thousand rupees.
17. Rice and dál cooked together.
18. Authority.
19. The Ex-Guicowár's keeper at Madras.
20. A vassal, generally a small landed proprietor.
21. A military vassal.
22. Boundary disputes between neighbouring states.
23. 18,00,000, population of Baroda.
24. Managers of native States.
25. £1,200,000, reckoning Rs. 10=£1.
26. Then Viceroy.
27. Cultivator.
28. Country districts.
29. High, or Chief Commissioner.
30. Guicowár's private purse.
31. Constables.
32. Mounted Policemen.
33. He has performed sixteen operations known by that name.
34. Europeanised.