reat victories, crushing defeats, exotic India: Europe was gripped by the excitement of the Mysore Wars.

The British perpetuated the image of Tipu as a monster and tyrant, and sensational narratives were published about his treatment of prisoners. More sobre evidence is found in the memoirs of James and John Lindsay, and in the little-known drawings of prison interiors. One prisoner wrote to his father, Archibald Hope of Rankeillour, in July 1782, 'I find my end approaching. I request that you will never send a son of yours to this country unless you wish to make him miserable.'

Incompetence, ignorance and bureauracy in India attracted venemous political satire. Henry Dundas, Solicitor General for Scotland, was a powerful political patron for commissions in India, and thus a favourite target. In 1792, for example, 'Scotch Harry' published false news of a victory at Seringapatam in order to improve credit at home. When this bubble burst, Dundas was made a laughing stock.

After 1799, images of Tipu and Seringapatam proliferated. Ker Porter's vast panorama was displayed in Edinburgh, and J.M.W.Turner and J.S.Cotman painted related scenes before the first photographers captured views of Seringapatam. Images appeared on jig-saw puzzles and writing sheets, and melodramatic spectacles exploded on stage. Returning heroes provided Sir Walter Scott with anecdotes for his 'Indian' novels, and Tipu objects were carefully preserved in castle and cottage. His musical tiger, and the remnants of his throne were publicly displayed in London.

Today, Tipu and his tigers continue to inspire artists, poets, silversmiths and sculptors. In India, Tipu's second city, Bangalore, is a centre of computer technology, while the Mysore narratives of 18c Scots are being reprinted by the Asian Educational press. The Tiger of Mysore is still very much a living legend.