Reassessing Tipu Sultan's Legacy: New Perspective on History /PART 1

Tipu Sultan in History: Revisionism Revised

Narasingha Sil  (Western Oregon University, Monmouth, USA)

Corresponding Author: Narasingha Sil, 1175 Scott Court, Independence, OR 97351, USA. Email: siln@mail.wou.edu

 Abstract

This historiographical essay seeks to chart a middle course between what may be called Tipu bashing and, to borrow an  expression from Anne Buddle, “Tipu Mania,” with a view to providing a balanced view of Tipu Sultan the man and the statesman.  This study is premised on the verdict of Joseph François Michaud who not only admires the Sultan’s courage and noble  intentions but also laments his superstition, lack of discretion and farsight, apathy to deliberations, and counterproductive  stubbornness that inevitably led to his undoing. Tipu’s tenacious conviction in the rectitude of his policies and measures  deprived him of the sagacity to mend and amend them as and when necessary. The American gymnast and three-time  Olympian Dominique Dawes observed that people do not plan to fail but respond to failure when it occurs by bouncing back  and responding to it. Tipu Sultan’s misfortune was that he failed to learn from his failures.

Keywords : Seringapatam, Anglo-Mysore War, Haidar Ali, George Harris, Lord Wellesley

Introduction

Ever since the fall of Seringapatam1 concluding the fourth  and final Anglo-Mysore War (1799), in which Tipu Sultan  Fath 'Ali Khan, the self-styled Padshah of Mysore (regnal  [r.] 1782-1799), died, his character and career have been the  centerpiece of a historiographical battle, that could be appropriately termed, a la Anne Buddle (1989), a veritable “Tipu  Mania” (p. 53). As Azer Rahman (2003) observed in an arti cle commemorating the 204 anniversary of Tipu’s death,  “Tipu remains a controversial figure in history, drawing  extensive reactions—he is either reviled or adored.” Tipu  confronted the British East India Company (EIC) with ada mant resolve and this audacity of a regional potentate of  Mughal India has endeared his memory to posterity to whom  he stands for a liberator of colonial India who could have  been (Ali, 1999).2 Reacting to the general assessment of  British writers (who were mostly military personnel) as pro ducers of imperialist narratives designed to denigrate an  adversary from the orient, historical studies on Tipu Sultan  by Indian (and a few Western) scholars posit a positive pro file of the man as an enterprising, enlightened, and eclectic  regional chief whose struggle for freedom from foreign con trol was brutally crushed by a superior military imperialist  power.

Typical examples of this revisionist historiography are  comments such as Tipu was a patriot noted for his “love of  land and love of liberty” (Ali, 1999) or Tipu offered his blood  to write the “history of India” (Subhan, 2002, p. 41), or Tipu  was a “modernising technocrat” who beat the West “at their  own game,” and was “something of a connoisseur, with a  library of about 2000 volumes in several languages”  (Dalrymple, 2005). This sort of revisionism in respect of the  character and conduct of Tipu Sultan marked the corpus of a  number of Indian historians in 1999, the year commemorat

ing the bicentennial anniversary of his death (Habib, 1999;  Ray, 2002). Even to this day, Tipu continues to provoke con troversy among specialists as well as lay readership at large.  This article addresses this controversy by revisiting, for the  first time, some significant contemporary Western sources  and their powerful postcolonial critiques with a view to  bringing the authentic man and statesman out of the halo that  surrounds his personality and performance as a major  regional potentate of early colonial India. Consequently,  Tipu Sultan emerges from his hallowed historiography as an  ambitious, courageous, albeit headstrong, impetuous, and  short-sighted autocrat who lacked the sagacity to mend and  amend his policies and measures and thus brought about his  own downfall.

Tipu Sultan: The Tiger of Mysore

Tipu’s encounter with the foreigners reveals that he was not  against their presence in his domain; he actually wanted  them to comply with his commands, however capricious or  contumelious. He was willing to take the help of foreign  powers to expel the one he hated. Thus, he had little qualms  wooing the Turks, Afghans, and the French into alliance.  Tipu in fact asked the Afghan strongman Zaman Shah Abdali  (Durrani) (r. 1793-1800) to invade North India and is reported  to have candidly confided to Lieutenant-Colonel Russel,  commanding officer of the French detachment in the Mysore  army: “I want to expel them [the British] from India. I want  to be the friend of the French all my life” (Lafont, 2001, p.  99). He even wrote the government of Isle de France  (Mauritius) proposing an indissoluble “treaty of alliance and  fraternity” creating a family bond between the two states  (Martin, 1837, p. 2).3

Tipu’s measures and policies have been variously inter preted, often with forceful generalizations by historians in  India and abroad as eclectic and modern (Habib, 1999). One  scholar claimed that he “was so innovative and dynamic that,  had not destiny cut short his life, he would have ushered  Mysore into an industrial age” (Ali, 2002, p. 21). Another  speculated that had Tipu been the ruler of Bengal instead of  Siraj-ud-daula, the “history of the 18th century India would  have been materially different” (Subhan, 2002, p. 44).  Actually, all his measures including renaming his government as some kind of a divine endowment (khudadad sarkar)  or reorganizing his army into ilahi or ahmadi consisting of  slaves or chelas (Muslim converts) were both military and  Islamic in tone (Rao, 1948). Burton Stein’s description of the  Sultan’s administrative financial organization reveals the  construction of an extractive government (Stein, 1989). The  Governor of Madras Thomas Munro (1761-1827) considered  Tipu’s Mysore as “the most simple and despotic monarchy in  the world” (Glieg, 1830, pp. 1, 84). Tipu basically belonged  to that class of rulers who could be classified as feudal auto cratic. To him, visible evidence of personal loyalty and security of his regional hegemony were extremely meaningful. We have reports of Tipu’s wanton cruelty. Major  Alexander Allan (1764-1820) reports on Tipu’s murdering  the European captives on April 28, 1799, the very day he was  negotiating with Lieutenant-General Harris for peace terms.  “Of the real character of this Prince,” Allan writes, 

we hitherto have been ignorant! But now it will be placed in its  true light. That he was suspicious, vindictive, cruel and hurried  away by the sadder impulse of passion, to which he was  subjected even without any apparent provocation, is certain and  probably it will be found that he was more deficient in military  talents, and others as essential to govern an extensive kingdom  than has been generally imagined. (cited in Rao, 1948, Vol. 3, p.  1025)

Lieutenant-Colonel William Kirkpatrick (1756-1813)  writes that once the Sultan ordered his brother-in-law  Burhanuddin Khan to mount an assault on a region including  “every living creature in it, whether man or woman, old or  young, child, dog, cat, or any living thing, else, must be put  to the sword” (Kirkpatrick, 1811, Letter # 85 dated July 10,  1785, italics in original). Kirkpatrick (1811) writes further,  “Colonel Munro [Sir Hector, 1726-1805] assures me, that it  is an absolute fact that on one occasion he [Tipu] ordered all  the male population of a particular village which had given  him offence, to be castrated” (p. 3, translator’s “Observations”  on Letter # 1 dated February 17, 1785).

Tipu was a regnant ruler keenly conscious of personal  prestige and dignity, but could not command loyalty from his  own officers, witness the conduct of his dewans, the Muslim  Mir Sadiq as well as the Hindu Purnaiya and others, whom  even the writers of Hyderabad, Tipu’s enemy territory, refer  to as “seditious people” (Gopal, 1971, p. 91). Colonel Robert  Clive, the victor of Plassey (1757), had observed perceptively  in his letter to British Prime Minister William Pitt (r. 1756- 1762, 1766-1768): “The natives themselves have no attach ment whatever to a particular prince, they would rejoice in so  happy an exchange as that of a mild [British] for a despotic  [Indian] Government” (Malcolm, 1836, Vol. 2, pp. 119-125).

Most probably, Tipu was more feared than respected or  loved by his subjects. As the French historian and publicist  Joseph Michaud (1767-1839) writes,

If his ministers dared to combat his opinion he stared at them in  a threatening manner and replied to them in words of disdain  and insult. Thus his true friends seeing that their frankness only  created resentment in the sovereign, which became fatal to  them, began to accommodate their opinion to the caprices of  their master and the unhappy Tippoo was surrounded only by his  courtiers who praised all his plans and applauded all his  fantasies. (Michaud, 1801-1809/1985, pp. 157-158)4

Speaking of Tipu, Major James Rennell (1742-1830)  observed perspicaciously as early as 1792:

He is unquestionably the most powerful of all the native princes  of Hindoostan; but the utter detestation in which he is held by  his own subjects, renders it improbable that his reign will be  long. (cited in Rao, 1948, Vol. 3, p. 1230)

Major Allan, who knew the Sultan at firsthand, observed,

It is impossible that Tippoo could have been loved by his people.  The Musselmen [Musalmans] certainly looked up to him as the  head of their faith; by them, perhaps, his death is regretted but  they could not have been attached to him, by affection. (cited in  Rao, 1948, p. 1025)

Tipu’s Islamic Consciousness and  Conscience

Tipu Sultan and his father were no real “sons of the soil”  (manninamaga)5 of Mysore as they hailed from a migrant  Arab tribe (Quraish). Tipu’s father Haidar Ali was a soldier  of fortune who acquired this predominantly Hindu territory  from its pusillanimous Hindu ruler.6 Thus, the Sultan sought  to legitimize, or at least to assert, his imperium over Mysore,  of which he was but the inheritor of a de facto mantle. He  procured a sanad [patent of grant] from the Mughal Emperor  and received the title of “Pillar of the Empire . . . devoted of  Shah Alam Padshah Ghazi.” In 1782, Tipu dispatched an  embassy to Constantinople seeking confirmation of his title  to the throne of Mysore from the Sultan of Turkey. His over tures followed a well-established tradition (Brittlebank,  1997; Guha, 2001). However, Iqbal Husain, the translator of  the Sultan’s various hukmnamas (ordinances and instructions) for his emissaries to Istanbul and Paris, finds no direct  reference to Tipu’s search for legitimacy. For example,  Husain finds no reference to Tipu’s addressing the Khondkar (Sultan) of Rum [Turkey] as “Khalifa,” but notes the Sultan’s  addressing the Khondkar as Padshah-i-Ahl-i Islam [“King of  Muslims”] (I. Husain, 2001, p. 20).

Although Husain’s point is well-taken, Tipu’s plea to the  “King of Muslims” to empower the “True Religion” makes it  clear that he sought the support of Turkey, an ally of the  English and an adversary of the French, as the liberator of the  Muslims and thereby made himself a co-jihadist ruler  (I. Husain, 2001, pp. 40-42). It is noteworthy that Tipu’s sovereign consciousness itself was ultimately connected with  religion intimately. He issued coins that at once proclaimed  the primacy of Islam and the independence of the Sultan by  omitting the required reference to the imperial Mughals.7

Tipu even had the khutba (sermon in the mosque) read in his  name (omitting that of the Emperor) as sultan-i-din (“prince  of the faith”) dedicated to upholding “the honour and interest  of Islam . . . and . . . its increase and diffusion” (Kirkpatrick,  1811, Letter # 331). Mir Hussein Kirmani (1980) points out  that “the Sultan had a great aversion to . . . Hindus and other  tribes,” built a mosque in every town, and appointed a muez zin, a moula, and a kazi to each (pp. 154-155). Tipu urged his  army commander in Calicut on December 14, 1788:

I am sending two of my followers with Mir Hussain Ali. Along  with them you should capture and kill all Hindus. Those below  20 years may be kept in prison and 5000 from the rest should be  killed by hanging from tree tops. These are my orders.

Two years later, he boasted his conquest of Calicut in a  missive to Syed Abdul Dulai:

With the grace of Prophet Mohammad and Allah, almost all  Hindus in Calicut are converted to Islam. Only on the borders of  Cochin State a few are still not converted. I am determined to  convert them also very soon. I consider this as “Jehad” to  achieve that object. (cited in Sharma, 1991, pp. 111-112)

In his letter of February 10, 1799, to the Grand Seignior of  Constantinople Tipu claimed that “near five hundred thou sand of the infidels of the district of Calicut, Nuzzuraband,  Zufferabaud, and Ashrufabaud . . . have been converted at 

different times” (Martin, 1837, p. 30). In a military manual  titled Fat’hul Mujahidin (Victory of the Holy Warrior), he  also declared a “Holy War . . . against the English,” who were  alleged to have “converted many Muslims . . . [and] enslaved  many Muslim women and children . . . [and] destroyed  Muslim mosques and tombs to build their idol-houses  [churches] thereon” (Habib, 1999, p. xxv).

Admittedly, Tipu appointed Hindus to positions of trust  and responsibility as indeed did the Mughals and other  regional Muslim rulers. It is, however, doubtful that appoint ment of Hindus to responsible posts followed any principle  other than sheer common sense (Sharma, 1991). All Hindu  appointees were highly qualified and though all of them were  not impeccable and some outright corrupt, as Francis  Buchanan (1762-1829) found out, getting rid of the bad  apples “was impossible, for no other persons in the country  had any knowledge of business” (Buchanan, 1999, p. 167).  However, Tipu appointed even illiterate Muslims as Asophs [Lord Lieutenants] who were “entirely sunk in indolence,  voluptuousness, and ignorance” (Buchanan, 1999, p. 167). 

It is on record that the Sultan addressed the head of the  Sringeri Math, Swami Sachchidananda Bharati, as Jagadguru (“World Teacher”; Saletore, 1999, p. 127) and, according to  an eyewitness account, “went barefoot to [the] . . . Math to  receive the Swamy’s blessings and to ask him to pass on a  letter to the Marathas requesting them to take his side than  that of the British” (Subhan, 2002, p. 43). Tipu patronized  the temples of Sri Gandeswara and Sri Ranganatha.  Subbaraya Chetty (1999) cites a list of grants from the Sultan  to the Hindu temples and priests. Tipu’s attempt at forced  conversion leading to the alleged suicide of 3,000 Brahmins  to escape it, as noted by a Sanskrit scholar of Calcutta  University, has been dismissed as unfounded by a scholar politician (Pande, ca. 1996).

Tipu’s correspondences with the Guru of Sringeri Math  reveal his scare for the foreboding of doom that he tried des perately to counter (Sharma, 1991). A firm believer in astrol ogy, he often resorted to religious rituals and wore apotropaic  objects and trinkets—Hindu as well as Islamic—either to  avert a disaster or to attain success in his undertakings. A  near contemporary historical account describes how, on  May 4, 1799, the day Tipu died in the battlefield, he had  ordered

for all the ceremonies prescribed by the Brahmins to be duly  performed, and having given them several presents, requested  their prayers for the prosperity of his government. He also  ordered to be slaughtered two elephants with all their golden  trappings; . . . and large sums of gold mohurs were distributed  amongst the beggars. (Maistre De La Touche & Mohammad,  1855, p. 307, italics in original)

The reporter of this ritual wonders if it were inspired by  the Sultan’s fear and superstition in the face of the besieging  British army.

In fact, he already appears to have developed a defeatist  mentality of a doomed man several months before the siege  of Srirangapatnam. Lieutenant Wilks writes of the Sultan’s  apprehension of an impending dissolution of his empire  based on a folk tale of cephalomancy he sincerely believed.  According to this tale, the mysterious power of a crushed  human skull showing some cracks caused the death of 40  persons. When Tipu noticed some cracks on the mast of the  ship the Frenchman Ripaud had taken to the Isle of France,  he was convinced that these cracks foreboded the destruction  of his empire and thus “he readily made up his mind to throw  himself unconditionally in his Lordship’s [Wellesley’s] com passion” after he had read the Governor General’s letter of  January 9, 1799 (Wilks, 1810-1817/1869, Vol. 2, pp.  332-333).8

The Sultan sported a gold ring etched with the name of the  Hindu God Rama—a gift from the Guru of the Sringeri Math  (Olikara, 2012). Tipu and Haidar’s portraits in full regalia  hang on the walls of a Hindu temple of Lord Narasimha at  Sibi near the city of Bangalore, which was patronized by the  Sultan. These “vibrant paintings” as well as “a frieze of  marching soldiers escorting Tipu on his elephant” inside the  temple are evidence more of Hindu eclecticism and tolerance  or of the Muslim rulers’ power and authority over their sub jects both Hindu and Muslim than of genuine spiritual or  religious convictions on the part of both rulers (Brittlebank,  1997, pp. 152-153). Indeed, as Denys Forrest (1970) has  observed,

The easy thing is to accept him as a straightforward persecuting  bigot . . . He certainly followed the routines of piety, with much  reading of the Koran, punctilious ritual ablutions, texts in his  turban and the name of God ready to his lips and pen. But he was  also intensely superstitious, with an obviously higher opinion of  astrologers than of maulavis. The seven stars rather than the hand  of Allah seem to rule his universe, and it is significant that he paid  tremendous attention to the interpretation of dreams. (p. 212)9

Tipu destroyed at least three Hindu temples: the  Harihareswara temple at Harihar, the Varahaswami temple at  Srirangapatnam, and the Odakaraya temple at Hospet. In the  Tamil land and in Malabar, he earned the sobriquet of “a  Brahman-killer and a despoiler of south Indian temples”  (Brittlebank, 1997, pp. 125-126; see also Logan, 1887/2000,  p. 449). His forced conversion, circumcision, and merciless  massacre of the Hindus and Christians in Malabar have been  graphically described by the Portuguese traveler Fra Paolino  da San Bartolomeo (1748-1806; Bartolomeo, 1800).  Roderick Mackenzie (1793) commented on Tipu’s march to  Trinomaly and his mayhem there in 1790:

Here neither respect, for the grandeur and antiquity of their  temples, nor veneration for the sacred rites of a religion whose  origin no time records, proved any protection for the persons or  property, even of the first Brahmins. Their pagodas, breached  with sacrilegious cannon, were forcibly entered, their altars  defiled, their valuables seized, their dwellings reduced to ashes,  and the devastation was rendered still more horrible by the  scattered remains of men, women and children, mangled beneath  a murderous sword. (Vol. 1, p. 203)

Admittedly, as Richard Eaton (2000) observes, Hindu  temples had been sites for the contestation of royal authority  well before the advent of the Muslims in India and thus  Tipu’s desecration as well as endowment of Hindu temples  followed the pattern of Mughal conduct for purely political  (and not religious or iconoclastic) reasons (cited in Panikkar,  2000). Even though it has been observed by Major Dirom  (1794) that Tipu Sultan’s “cruelties were, in general, inflicted  only on those whom he considered his enemies,” one cannot  condone or overlook his penchant for sheer gratuitous blood letting (p. 250). He does come across as a religious zealot in  his command to Mir Zainul Abidin Shustari, sipahdar [commander] of a kushoon [brigade], ordering him to punish the  inhabitants of Coorg, guilty of committing “excesses” at  Zufferabad, by murdering or imprisoning them and then  “both the slain and the prisoners . . . to be made Musulmans  [that is, circumcised]” (Kirkpatrick, 1811, Letter # 117, italics in original).

Tipu Sultan’s ceremonial sword bears an unabashed  admission inscribed on it: “My victorious sabre is lightning  for the destruction of the unbelievers.” He publicly claimed  himself to be a descendant of Muhammad and his avowed  aim was “to restore the religion of that prophet by destroying  or proselytizing all heathens and infidels.” At the center of  his personal seal that validated all his public dispatches the  Arabic inscription reads: “I am the messenger of the true  faith;” around the edge of the seal a couplet in Persian reads:  “From conquest, and the protection of the Royal Hyder,  comes my title of Sultan; and the world, as under the sun and  moon, subject to my signet” (Dirom, 1794, p. 251). His own  writings (Sultan-ut-Tawarikh and Tarikh-I-Khudadadi)  speak eloquently of his religious fanaticism (Sharma, 1991,  p. 109, inscription on Tipu’s sword cited on p. 118). He even  dreamed of either converting or conquering the infidel (M.  Husain, 1957, 64 # 13, p. 67 # 17).10 As a contemporary esti mate has it,

a dark and intolerant bigotry excluded from Tippoo’s choice all  but the true believers; and unlimited persecution united in  detestation of his rule every Hindoo in his dominions. In the  Hindoos no degree of merit was a passport to favour; in the  Mussulman no crime could ensure displeasure. (Wilks, 1810-1817/1869, Vol. 2, p. 383)

Tipu thankfully acknowledged in his letter of February  16, 1799, to the Grand Seignior of Constantinople for the  latter’s desire,

for the sake of the whole body of the faith and religious  brotherhood, to afford assistance to our Brethren Mussulmans;  support our holy theology and not withhold my [Tipu’s] powerand endeavours in defending the region of Hindustan from the  machinations and evils of these enemies [the English and the  French Christians]. (Kausar, 1980, p. 268)

He invited Zaman Shah to attack the Mughal capital of  Delhi because the Emperor Shah Alam had “reduced the  faith to . . . weakness” (he had become a pensioner of the  powerful Maratha leader of Gwalior, Mahadji Shinde, ca.  1730-1794) and the letter of invitation concluded with a  report how 

near a hundred thousand followers of the faith, nay more,  assembled every Friday, the Sabbath of the Mussulmans, in the  two mosques of the capital, better known as the Aulah and the  Asqa mosques, and after the prescribed form of prayers,  supplicate the Bestower of all things according to the words of  the Scripture, “Grant thy aid, O God! To those who aid the  religion of Muhammad; and let us be of that number; Destroy  those, O God! Who would destroy the religion of Muhammad;  and let not us be their number”. (Kausar, 1980, 141-142)

More (2003) observes that Tipu was suspicious of the  Indian Christians, and he did not tolerate the presence of  European missionaries in his territory, though he tolerated  the Syrian Christians.

In one sense, the Sultan’s practice of converting convicts  or rebels into Islam as an instance of their humiliation and  punishment does not seem to be an example of his religious  fanaticism, for apparently he considered conversion into  Islam to be an instrument of punishment for the rebels— something odious rather than a channel for their spiritual  upliftment and welfare.11 He clearly was not an evangelical  Muslim but appeared to be a dispenser of punishment by  forcing his own religion on the unworthy subjects thereby,  ironically, debasing its own merits.

Postcolonial Revisionism of Tipu’s  Representation in Colonial Texts

The reassessment of Tipu Sultan’s character and career  since 1999 has produced a new mythology by postcolonial postmodernist scholarship in place of what it regards as  imperialist-colonialist demonology in which he is portrayed  as an oriental despot with a diabolical design of oppressing  his people and subverting the Company’s prospect in India.  Postcolonial scholarship reinforced by postmodernist dis trust of grand narratives or hegemonic discourse questions  such interpretations depicting Tipu in a negative light. We  now have a counter hegemonic discourse in place of the  imperialist metahistory and consequently Tipu Sultan  appears as a fallen nationalist leader whose vision of a mod ern industrialist and enlightened free India failed to material ize because of the grand alliance forged by the EIC with  Mysore’s inimical neighbors, the Nizam of Hyderabad and  the Maratha Confederacy of west central Mughal India. 

Some scholars even argued that the British paranoia of the  monarch of Mysore was caused by their fear of an adversary  who challenged the West by mastering the secrets of Western  science and technology, thus meeting the Western power on  its own terms.12 One scholar posits that “the real threat repre sented by Tipu resulted from his blurring of distinction  between East and West in his appropriation of European  ideas, tactics and individuals” (Teltscher, 1995, p. 238).

A number of studies since the 1980s and 1990s debunk all  reports of Tipu’s maltreatment and forcible conversion of  war prisoners by the EIC’s military officers as downright  propaganda by a bunch of “fighters as writers” (Colley, 2000,  p. 277). Historical accounts by Mark Wilks (1759-1831);  Alexander Beatson (1759-1830); Francis Buchanan (1762- 1829); Lewin Bowring (1825-1910); William Fullerton,  Roderick Mackenzie, and Henry Oakes (1756-1827); James  Scurry (died 1822); or James Bristowe (born 1737) have  been dismissed by a scholar and their works are “constructed  around the figure of the oriental despot” (Teltscher, 1995, p.  233). It is, however, known that Colonel Wilks of the Madras  army at Fort St. George is admired for his Historical Sketches,  a work based on his access to state records, especially those  of Fort St. George, and on his personal firsthand knowledge  of the official records of Mysore that had been taken from  Srirangapatnam to Calcutta after its fall.

Kate Teltscher (1995) considers Kirkpatrick’s transla tion of the Sultan’s letters as unreliable, especially because  “he describes Tipu’s epistolary self-portrait in terms drawn  largely from the vocabulary of despotism: the cruel enemy,  intolerant fanatic, oppressive ruler, harsh master, the san guinary and perfidious tyrant” (p. 235). There may be a  kernel of truth in this allegation. He was quite open about  his feelings about the Sultan even to the extent of opposing  his brother James Achilles (1764-1805), who considered  Tipu a brave soldier (Dalrymple, 2002). Nevertheless, the  Kirkpatrick brothers were experts in Persian. William’s  translation of Tipu’s letters is credible enough as the man  was quite pernickety about his job. One just has to go  through the preface to his Select Letters of Tippoo Sultan (Kirkpatrick, 1811, pp. ix-xxv) to note his scheme of trans lation, his hermeneutical methods, and his scholarly intro spection and circumspection in respect of his literary  enterprise. As he avers,

My principal object, in this work, being to present as striking a  likeness of Tippoo, as the nature of materials, and the extent of  my ability to employ them advantageously, would admit, I  thought it essential to this end, to render his sentiments, on all  occasions, as closely as the different idioms of the two languages  [Persian and English] would allow, without involving the same  in difficulty or obscurity. (Kirkpatrick, 1811, p. xi)

Thus, despite Kirkpatrick’s disparaging epithets for  Tipu, his translation of the Sultan’s letters is unlikely to be  doctored to vent his personal dislike of their author.13

Nevertheless, Teltscher (1995) notes that he “endeavours to  guide the reader’s response quite openly” and concludes,  “Tipu’s letters are thus framed to conform to expectations  of despotism, even as they are offered as firsthand evidence  of the sultan’s character” (p. 237, italics added). Interestingly  enough, Teltscher credits the account of Lieutenant Edward  Moor (1774) because he mocks at Tipu’s detractors for their  “confined prejudices of contracted minds.” But she over looks Moor’s observations that Tipu was not a “good man,”  that his state of Mysore was “unlimitedly monarchical,”  that his “mandate is the law” that was used to execute con victs in the most sanguinary manner, and that Tipu might  have suffered from qualms of guilt for his cruel excesses  (cited in Rao, 1948, Vol. 3, pp. 1228-1229).

Amal Chatterjee’s (1998) postcolonial analysis of the cre ation of 18th-century India in colonial imagination posits  that Tipu Sultan “was at once the bogeyman, the proof that  Indian rulers were duplicitous tyrants and proof that . . . any  powerful Indian ruler was ultimately an evil despot” (p. 173).  Chatterjee also lumps together all accounts of the experi ences of Tipu’s British captives as intentional, overexagger ated, and even imaginary tales of terror. In his estimation,  “British audiences were fed on a diet of ‘reports’ of Tipu’s  depraved nature” (Chatterjee, 1998, p. 179). The eyewitness  accounts of Tipu’s treatment of his prisoners are conflated  with fictional tales about him to substantiate the final  conclusion:

It is clear that both the chroniclers and the novelists felt obliged  to “prove” that there was falsity . . . in the heart of the most  famous of Indian monarchs . . . Memories were selective and  convenient serving the end of proving that in the final reckoning  British rule was the only stable, and therefore the preferable,  mode of government of otherwise unstable Indians. (Chatterjee,  1998, p. 194)

Teltscher and Chatterjee’s critique anticipates Ruchira  Banerjee’s (2001) analysis of Remarks and Occurrences  of Mr. Henry Becher (1793). Banerjee (2001) questions  the author Becher’s credibility because of his inability  to be impressed by the opulence of Seringapatam, “his  delight at the English army breaking into the palace  grounds at Lal Bagh,” and his work being “part of a well planned strategy to denigrate the Mysorean rulers to ratio nalize the enormously expensive Anglo-Mysore wars in  India” (pp. 206-208). In a footnote, Banerjee lumps the  works of Beatson (1800), Scurry, and Oakes together as  the products of propaganda in favor of a war against Tipu  Sultan. Becher’s work highlights Sultan’s cruelty, but, in  Banerjee’s judgment, the Englishman appears to be even  more despicable when he concludes his Remarks with a  wish that “the left arm and foot of Tippoo . . . will be cut  off by the English” (Banerjee, 2001, p. 212).14

Postcolonial Hermeneutic of Tipu’s  Visual Representation

A postcolonial critique of the historiography of the Anglo Mysore Wars has come from the perspective of pictorial rep resentation of Tipu Sultan. Constance McPhee, Linda Colley,  and Janaki Nair have sought to discover the distortion of the  East in colonial paintings and at the same time the influence  of the Indian paintings on the metropolitan portraiture.  McPhee analyzes the American painter Mather Brown’s  (1761-1831) two paintings, The Departure of the Sons of  Tippoo From the Zenana (1792) and Thomas Earl of Surrey,  Defending His Allegiance to Richard III After the Battle of  Bosworth Field, 1485 (1798) that she believes vilify Tipu  Sultan. The first piece depicts Lord Cornwallis taking cus tody of the Sultan’s two young sons as hostage following the  British victory in the Third Mysore War. The figure of Tipu  Sultan, the provider of the hostages, resembles the well known representation of the Yorkist King Richard III (1483- 1485), the alleged murderer of his two young nephews, sons  of Richard’s royal brother King Edward IV (1461-1483).  Brown’s (1798) painting shows the earl of Surrey being  stripped off his honor by the victor of Bosworth, the Tudor  King Henry VII (1485-1509). Here Henry Tudor, the  “usurper” [arguably, the Tudors had a weaker claim to the  English throne than their dynastic rival the Yorkists], is  shown in Tipu Sultan’s habits—turban and pointed shoes  (nagra)—to highlight his villainy. This anti-Tudor painting  was commissioned from Brown by the Yorkist partisan, the  earl of Surrey’s 18th-century successor, Charles Howard, the  11th duke of Norfolk (McPhee, 1998).

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