Whose Taste? Colonial Design, International Exhibitions, and Indian Silver

Vidya Dehejia

Silverware reflecting a remarkable amalgam of taste was produced in India for a period of about 75 years, from 1865 to 1940. Indian silversmiths satisfied the demand for elegant silver tea services, bowls, wine and water ewers, beer mugs, and goblets that would normally adorn the sideboard or mantelpiece in a British Raj home, creating European forms to fulfil European requirements. In this sense, they continued a tradition of silversmithing that had been established by Europeans in the Presidency towns of Madras and Calcutta from the 1760s onwards. 1 By the 1860s, however, Indian silversmiths adopted a unique manner of embellishing these objects, displaying what came to be considered an innate and ubiquitous Indian fondness for decoration. In the context of such ornamented forms, what was admired was “the admirable taste with which they [Indians] harmonise complicated patterns.” 2

The shape and function of Raj silver catered to colonial taste and demand, but its exterior surfaces displayed ‘native’ decorative skills in portraying patterns and figuration that appealed to its consumers. A sharp distinction may, in fact, be made between the forms created for European use and the traditional forms of Indian silver that had been produced for centuries prior, for the princely rulers of the various courts of India. Such Indian shapes continued to be made throughout the period of the Raj and include the surahi or water vessel (Cat. No. 67), paan daan or betel leaf container, attar daan or perfume container, gulab pash or rose-water sprinkler (Cat. Nos. 55–57), spice boxes, and a variety of plates and cups, all of which are labeled ‘For Native Use’ in an 1883 list of art manufactures. The same document proceeds to list “teapots, coffee pots, milk jugs, sugar basins, vases and cups of all shapes and sizes, salt cellars, spoons, knife handles, dishes, salvers, &c,” labeling them ‘For European Use,’ explaining that such silver plate, the term used to describe these items, “is in large demand by Europeans for whom it is principally worked.” 3

Kutch teapot with snake handle and elephant-head spout, ca. 1880 Private collection

O PPOSITE PAGE, BELOW LEFT: Finial of silver spoon depicting kuruvanji or gypsy (See Cat. No. 37) Paul Walter collection

OPPOSITE PAGE, BELOW RIGHT: Kuruvanji against granite column, Tirukurunkudi temple, Tamil Nadu, Nayak period, ca. 17th century

Each region of India that created European silver plate adorned it with a recognizably local pattern. Tea services, consisting of a tray that held a teapot, milk jug, and sugar bowl, were seen everywhere, both in Britain and the colony. But in India, regardless of where exactly a tea service was made, its surfaces would be richly adorned. A silversmith from Kutch would create heavily embossed work to adorn a teapot, giving it a wonderful twisted snake as its handle, and a magnificent elephant head where its spout emerged from the pot (opposite page). This was the Kutch decorative style adapted to adorn a European object, in this case a teapot. If made in Madras or Bangalore, the decoration of the teapot would consist of images of gods being carried in procession to the accompaniment of music and dance; thus the designation of this ware as Swami (god) silver (Cat. Nos. 25–38). A beer mug, something unknown in the context of Indian culture, followed the designated European shape, but its sides were decorated in a manner never seen in Europe. If made in Calcutta, it would carry a series of rural scenes such as men and women carrying water, husking grain, or ploughing fields, against a backdrop of palm trees and village huts (right).

At the same time, if so required by a patron, a Kutch silversmith might also display his virtuosity by so accurately copying a classical statue as to create an image that seems to defy classification. With a muscled torso, a fig leaf to cover his nudity, strapped sandals on his feet, and a kid-skin flung over one shoulder, an elegant male figure gently bends his head and gazes downwards (Cat. No. 40). The copy is amazing in the way it captures the spirit of the Neapolitan original on which it is based. 4 In fact, if it did not so clearly have the initials ‘O.M.’ (for Oomersee Mawjee, silversmith to His Highness, The Maharao of Kutch) and ‘Bhuj’ (the capital of Kutch) stamped on its base, as indeed do several tea services, wine ewers, and goblets, one might have wondered about the ethnic origins of its creator. 5 No doubt, this unconventional and unique image, so much at odds with the objects of Indian and European use created in 19th-century India, was fashioned at the express request of the Maharao of Kutch.

A highly eclectic creation is evident in a set of elegant spoons with finely worked handles and figurative finials, produced to nestle within a velvet-lined presentation case (Cat. No. 37). Incised decoration adorns both surfaces of the spoons’ bowls, and the six spoons each have deftly carved stems with an elaborate finial that replicates in miniature the striking pillar figures in Nayak-period temples. Pillars adorned in this fashion were repeated in temple after temple in South India. They obviously attracted sufficient admiration in British India to be replicated in wood in half-size, and displayed to flank the entranceway into the main hall of the 1903 Delhi International Exhibition as a fine specimen of

Indian carving. 6 The figure of the kuruvanji or gypsy that adorns one 1903 wooden replica pillar is also the finial of one of the spoons of the spoon set mentioned above. It is important to examine the role of international exhibitions as a channel which, in varying ways, provided impetus and inspiration for the creation of Indian silver. We shall also see that the display of silverware at such exhibitions, and their enthusiastic reception by sections of the British press, created a new market for the purchase of Indian silver which acquired overnight a certain desired status.

Calcutta beer mug featuring rural scenes, ca. 1890 Private collection

This catalog and exhibition illustrate the wide range of silver plate produced for the Raj. Two thematic sections, one devoted to the prevalence of silver calling card cases and the second to the ubiquitous silver tea service, 7 demonstrate how silver objects were dispersed throughout the subcontinent; these are followed by an examination of silver plate on the basis of varying regional forms of decoration. As early as 1894, B.H. Baden-Powell, artisanal reformer in India, remarked that, “it is always possible to tell by the style where a vessel has been made,” and he quoted the example of Kashmir silverwork with its “graceful but rather monotonous ornament, which is closely related to the forms used in shawl weaving.” 8 Organized silver-work ‘factories’ were established primarily in South India and in Kutch. The best known Madras institution was the European-owned workshop of P. Orr & Sons which employed local silversmiths, while Bangalore housed, among others, the Indian-owned workshop of Krishniah Chetty & Sons and European-owned Messrs. Barton & Sons. The second center of Kutch, renowned for its silversmiths, was home to the entirely Indian workshop of Oomersee Mawjee & Sons that owed much to the patronage of the local rulers, the Maharaos. In these regions, the silversmiths had some contact with customers and, as one might expect, this encouraged them to produce their finest work. Elsewhere, merchant middlemen dealt with both the customers and the silversmiths, disallowing direct contact between the buyer and the producer of silver plate. From these areas of India, it was the names of the merchants rather than those of the silver workshops that were advertised at the various international exhibitions. All over India, and regardless of whether silver was produced in centralized workshops or on a more informal basis, several craftsmen worked on producing any one single piece; additionally, the process of decoration always commenced with punching in the background from the outside, rather than hammering out the decoration from the inside.

The finest examples of Raj silver appear to have been created between 1875 and 1920. A large number of pieces were ordered by the British stationed in India from the catalogs of local firms like P. Orr & Sons of Madras, or from workshop drawings such as those of Oomersee Mawjee of Kutch. 9 Inscriptions engraved on silverware indicate that these objects were frequently gifts for christenings and weddings, trophies for winners of polo and other sporting events, and mementoes presented upon retirement from service. Even larger quantities of silver were imported into Britain, and into Europe, particularly Paris, following the high visibility achieved by Indian silver in the course of the international exhibitions of the second half of the 19th century. It appears that both Liberty & Co. of Regent Street and Proctor & Co. of Oxford Street had their own workshops in India, making Kutch-style silver items for sale in their London stores. 10

Silverware imported into Britain was required to meet the sterling standard of 92.5 per cent silver, the rest being copper. Indian silver, however, was never of a single consistent standard as far as its purity was concerned. 11 Items were frequently made from old silver of varying quality that was melted and refashioned. Another popular source of silver was the rupee coins minted by the East India Company which, ironically, were of 91.7 per cent purity and hence sub-sterling. Finally bullion was imported from East Africa, the Arabian Gulf, the United States, and China. 12 Also, zinc was commonly added to silver in place of copper as it produced a preferred white appearance; some alloys were 87.5 per cent silver and 12.5 per cent zinc. On the other hand, Kutch silver was regularly between 96 and 98 per cent pure, exceeding the sterling standard; this ready importability must surely have been one reason for the immense popularity of Kutch-style silver in Britain.

The import of Indian silver into Britain was initially hampered by the British system of hallmarking, which required that any imported silver had to be ‘scraped’ to confirm its sterling standard and then stamped with the ‘approved’ mark of the Goldsmiths’ Hall. The hallmark standard applied to every part of an item, including the nut or screw used to attach, say, a knob to a lid – items which the Indian silversmith considered irrelevant. British rules demanded that silverware that did not conform to this standard be broken up and destroyed. British companies like Elkington & Co. which created silver

and silver-plated ‘copies’ of Indian silver, did good business during the years when the hallmarking system was in effect. In addition, the much admired ornate silverware from Kashmir was often imported into Britain as copperware, and then silver-plated; the result, as remarked on by Lockwood Kipling, founder and Director of the Mayo School of Art in Lahore, was that “Cashmere gold and silver plate of large size and imposing aspect which, however is only silvered or gilded copper, is often to be seen on the sideboards of retired Anglo-Indians.” 13 In 1884, the hallmarking system was withdrawn for ‘handchased, inlaid, bronzed or filigree work of Oriental Pattern,’ 14 as long as the imported silver was of sterling standard. This was a blessing for Indian silver; the further withdrawal of import duties on such handmade products in the year 1890, greatly benefited Indian silver imports into London.

The Indian Presence at International Exhibitions 15 In the mid-19th century, few Europeans had any knowledge of India or her products; in a brief span of 50 years, due in large measure to the number of international exhibitions held during the second half of the 19th century, familiarity with India soared. By 1900, vast numbers of exhibition-goers had been introduced to Indian ‘design,’ the word used at the time to designate ornament, and to her ‘industrial arts,’ or what the 20th century would later label her ‘crafts.’

The year 1851 marked the opening in London of the first international exhibition, ‘The Great Exhibition of the Industry of All Nations,’ whose success was responsible for transforming international exhibitions into the ‘fashion of the hour’ 16 for a period of nearly 75 years. The scale and grandeur of these exhibitions is vividly expressed by Paul Greenhalgh: Imagine an area the size of a small city centre, bustling with dozens of vast buildings set in beautiful gardens; fill the buildings with every conceivable type of commodity and activity known, in the largest possible quantities. Spare no expense. Invite all nations on earth to take part by sending objects for display and by erecting buildings of their own. After six months, raze this city to the ground and leave nothing behind save one or two permanent landmarks. 17

The Great Exhibition was held in a single vast structure that enclosed 19 acres within London’s Hyde Park; fully glassed over, it was known popularly as the Crystal Palace. Thirty-four countries accepted Britain’s invitation to participate, and another thirty were comprised of nations that formed part of the British Empire. Their contributions were displayed under four categories – manufactures, machinery, raw materials, and fine arts – and these divisions became the standard for all the international exhibitions held thereafter, until 1939. The machinery halls at the exhibition drew more visitors that the fine arts halls which ‘brought status, not pleasure.’ 18 The Royal Society of Arts played a major role in the organization of this hugely successful exhibition which attracted 6.5 million visitors and brought in a substantial net profit of just over £ 186,000. 19 Within the countries that comprised the British Empire, India was given the greatest prominence and this continued to be so for future displays; from the 30,000 square feet allotted to her at the Crystal Palace, India moved into a space of over 100,000 square feet at the Colonial and Indian Exhibition of 1886.

Emerging from this very first exhibition and holding true in future spectacles of this type was the distinction drawn between the machine-made and the handmade, the former considered ugly and the latter equated with true beauty. Indian design, created by hand and not machine, was judged highly successful in its use of color and its skillful use of pattern. India was acclaimed for her displays of a wide range of products that included carpets and textiles, silver and gold work, enameled ware, lacquer work and elaborately carved wooden furniture. Further appreciation came from William Morris and others of the arts and crafts movement in Britain, “who saw contemporary Indian artisans as embodying the artistic, ennobled labor to which they were striving.” 20 A secondary issue was the distinction made between fine art (which India was not deemed worthy of possessing) and design or ornament (in which

India’s expertise was admired). This distinction was clearly phrased in the curriculum of Britain’s Department of Science and Art, established directly after the Great Exhibition, and headed by Henry Cole. In the introduction to the curriculum, the reader is asked to consider the difference between the rendering of a flower by an artist and by an ‘ornamentist.’ The artist represents the beauty of a flower as it appears in nature, while the ornamentist resolves the flower into its elements rather than viewing it with the overall eye of an artist. The ornamentist “…does not aim at that fictitious resemblance of nature which it is the purpose of fine art to effect… but at the identical repetition of natural forms and colours in some new material and for some new purpose.” 21 Cole also started the Journal of Design with the express intention of shifting emphasis from fine art to industrial design.

The four justifications (not necessarily the same as motivations) that the organizers of the Great Exhibition put forward for hosting it became established reasons for presenting such international events in the future. 22 The very first justification for these costly extravaganzas was that they promoted peace among nations. This somewhat nebulous goal allowed for varying interpretations; for the British it presumably included the preservation of status quo as far as empire was concerned. Empire brought prestige to Britain at a time when British machine-made goods were considered low in aesthetic quality; empire was beneficial to image and also to trade. The next two elements, the education of the masses and the encouragement of trade, could be seen in action right on the grounds of the exhibition; indeed, separate sales counters began to be set up at which visitors could purchase silverware, textiles, and various other goods similar to those on display in the exhibition. Greenhalgh somewhat sardonically remarks that critics of the time found “nothing wrong in seeing the Great Exhibition as a shop, nor apparently in belonging to a nation of shop-keepers.” 23 The fourth justification, that of progress, was also evident at the exhibition site in the Machine Hall which displayed machinery, engineering feats, and technological innovations, all of which aroused much admiration.

Following the success of the Great Exhibition, a number of nations began making plans for future displays and these came to fruition as early as 1853 in both Dublin and New York, followed in 1855 by Paris. Major London exhibitions were held at South Kensington in 1862 and 1874, with the grandiose Colonial and Indian Exhibition being presented in 1886. In contrast to British exhibitions which were confined to a single vast building, the French introduced the idea of numerous pavilions within an expansive bounded area. Several such pavilions, sometimes ‘palaces,’ were constructed by participating nations at the successive Paris Expositions of 1878, 1889 (for which the Eiffel Tower was built), and 1900. Exhibitions became so much the rage that Paul Greenhalgh remarks that even if one were to limit oneself to Britain’s Great Exhibitions, France’s Expositions Universelles, and America’s World’s Fairs, “the sheer numbers of exhibitions prevents an empirical completeness.” 24 He gives us some startling statistics, noting that between 1866 and 1914, an event with more than 20 participating nations was held every two years. 25 Commencing with the Great Exhibition, the publications that served as illustrated catalogs for these ‘spectacles of tangible fantasy’ 26 carried object labels close to those used to this day and in this very catalog – place of origin, time of origin, nature of the raw material, and the ‘style’ of the product. 27

India herself held a number of ‘international’ exhibitions, commencing with the Bombay Metropolitan of 1854, scheduling displays to showcase objects from across India with two aims in mind. First and foremost, they offered ideal venues at which to judge and select objects that were fine representatives of their class and kind and should be forwarded to exhibitions in London, Paris, or New York. Second was the desire to give people in various parts of India an exposure to products from other parts of the country, and thereby to stimulate production of goods in areas that were under-represented. Following the Madras Industrial Exhibition of 1855, the Calcutta Review, for instance, enthused: “Distant provinces have been made acquainted with each other’s products.” 28 Exhibitions in India brought surprising numbers of visitors; as many as 235,000 attended the opening weeks of the Jeypore (today Jaipur) exhibition in January 1883, while the Calcutta International in December 1883, attracted 1,000,000

visitors during its four-month run. 29 Several of these Indian exhibitions, as indeed those held in Europe, showcased the craftsmen, often housing them in a prominent gallery where they could display their working techniques as well as their wares. 30 Several, including the Calcutta 1883 exhibition, provided the basis for local state museum collections. 31 It was probably this same exhibition of 1883 that provided the impetus for the inception of a Calcutta style of silver design. The British residents of Calcutta, capital of British India, had thus far commissioned silverware of the type made ‘back home.’ With Calcutta hosting an international exhibition, it became indeed necessary for the city to be adequately represented in the silverware section. This need provided the incentive for the introduction of the rural scene motif of Calcutta. 32

The 1875–1876 Visit to India of Edward Albert, the Prince of Wales An event with unforeseen repercussions on the artistic products of India, and specifically its silverwork, was the 1875–1876 visit to India of the Prince of Wales, who later ruled as Edward VII. This royal visit held greater significance for Indian crafts than for the empire. The Prince of Wales traveled extensively within India and was everywhere presented with lavish gifts, and Sir George Birdwood, India Office scholar and writer on India’s ‘industrial arts,’ and others interested in promoting the designs created by Indian craftsmen made sure the Prince was aware of the intrinsic artistic value of these gifts. So effective were they in their campaign that, even ahead of the royal yacht’s return to England, instructions were telegraphed to make arrangements for these gifts to be placed on public view at the South Kensington Museum. The Court Journal of March 18th, 1876 reported, prior to the opening of the display, “The magnificent presents received by the Prince of Wales during his late visit to India have directed public attention to the many choice articles of native skill and workmanship displayed in the manufacture of the various works of art.” 33 Three items of Swami silver from the Madras firm of P. Orr & Sons, presented as gifts by Indian maharajas, featured prominently among the Prince of Wales’ collection, drawing attention to the art of the silversmith. The Gaekwad of Baroda presented His Royal Highness with a complete tea service intended for afternoon garden parties, consisting of 12 teacups, saucers, and teaspoons, a teapot, sugar bowl with sugar tongs, milk jug, and three salvers to hold them. 34 The Maharaja of Cochin presented an ornate dessert service including 12 each of dessert knives and forks, fruit spoons, teaspoons, fish knives and fish forks; while Maharaja Holkar of Indore presented a second tea service, without the cups and saucers. 35

The royal gifts were next displayed at the Bethnal Green Museum in London in 1876 and 1877, at the Paris Exposition in 1878, at Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Aberdeen, and finally at York in 1881 . 36 In

particular, the Indian pavilion at the

1878 Paris Exposition received tremendous acclaim; besides a Diploma of Honor, the Exhibition Committee awarded it seven gold, 15 silver, and 21 bronze medals, as well as 10 honorable mentions. 37 George Birdwood remarked that the cases containing the Prince of Wales’ gifts of gold and silver plate were the first objects encountered by a visitor upon entering the Indian court in the Paris Exposition. 38 His list alerts us to the fact that the objects displayed had been collected by ‘Anglo-Indian government officers, Indian princes, English curators and leading importers.’ 39 Considering loan exhibitions of recent decades, one might say that little has changed in the character of the lenders.

The success of the Indian pavilion at Paris in 1878, and the repeated displays of the royal gifts at other venues, had a tremendous effect on the reputation and sale of Indian silverware. 40 The resulting incentive for acquiring Indian silver prompted British and Scottish firms to move towards producing such wares. One such was the Birmingham firm of Elkington & Co. that had developed the process of silverplating (technically known as electro-deposition) and was a leading manufacturer of both pure silver and silver-plated wares in Britain. 41 As early as the year 1872, the firm had advertised its first piece of Indian silver, a copy of a Kashmir ware mug decorated with the ‘shawl’ or paisley pattern. 42 The following years saw the addition of several pieces of the Kutch style, especially after the displays of the Prince of Wales’ gifts. ‘Electro-types’ were produced in both silver and silver plate by taking molds directly from the original Indian silver objects. In addition, the firm also created their own Indian inventions in

electroplate. 43 After 1885, Elkington & Co. offered no new designs; with the direct import of silver from India following the elimination of the hallmark regulation, it no longer made monetary sense to produce copies in Britain.

In 1880, after having hosted a stall at the Paris Exposition of the previous year, Liberty of London issued a ‘Yuletide Gifts’ catalog that featured several Indian silver items, largely in the Kutch style. 44 In her recent book, Saloni Mathur points out that Liberty & Co. “not only introduced new products, materials, and ideas but also invented them.” 45 The Umritza Cashmere shawl that received rave reviews was one such English-made Indian imitation. The Liberty catalogue of 1881 explains that they sought “an Indian material which should combine the extreme softness of touch with the durability of the tough, but harshfeeling fabrics of European manufacture,” and finally invented Umritza Cashmere, “after many difficulties and a series of experiments.” 46 In the realm of silverware, however, Liberty & Co. left well alone and set up a workshop in Bombay where craftsmen from Kutch produced the silver offered for sale in their store.

The sphere of diplomatic gifting, the frequent and repeated hosting of international exhibitions, and the realm of commercial enterprise, together proved to have considerable ramifications. Intertwined as they were, they resulted in the acclaim and appreciation of Indian objects, and a consequent significant demand for Indian silver.

Commissioners, ‘Exhibition-wallahs,’ and the Creation of Taste To oversee the exhibitions displaying the various products of empire, including silver, and the new museums being set up to house select objects purchased at the conclusion of each exhibition, 47 British officials in India set up a special branch of the Department of Revenue and Agriculture. The role played by economics in planning and mounting ‘international’ exhibitions within India is revealed by the Department of Revenue being chosen for this purpose. In Britain, the Department of Science and Art, established soon after the Crystal Palace Exhibition of 1851 , became the key agent in organizing the many international exhibitions held in the second half of the 19th century. This department also purchased goods from the first ‘Great Exhibition’ for the South Kensington Museum which ultimately became today’s Victoria & Albert Museum. 48 In his book that focuses on Britain’s Department of Science and Art, Arindam Dutta has drawn attention to the wide scope of influence of that department on institutions across Britain’s colonies, whether at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, or at a small provincial museum in Kabul. 49

Commissioners of the British Department of Science and Art, and the corresponding officials of the Indian Department of Revenue and Agriculture, who were popularly referred to as the ‘exhibitionwallahs,’ undertook the key role of securing objects for display. In fact, they seem to have combined the roles of today’s curators with that of museum directors and, in addition, held their full-time government positions. Edward C. Buck and George Watt were two among several influential Englishmen who served as commissioners; Buck was responsible for the 1886 Colonial and Indian Exhibition in London, and Watt for the 1903 Delhi Durbar exhibition. 50 At the other end of the spectrum were a group of Indian assistants without whom the British officials could not have functioned. Two of these active individuals were T.N. Mukharji from Calcutta, officially appointed Exhibition Assistant for the Department of Revenue and Agriculture, and B.A. Gupte from Bombay who, in his capacity as assistant to Lockwood Kipling, Director of the Mayo School of Art in Lahore, collected objects for exhibitions held both in India and overseas during the 1880s. 51 The role of the Commissioners and their Indian assistants in vetting and selecting objects, and in creating taste, is a topic that calls for a comprehensive study. These individuals, both British and Indian, were responsible for constructing a cultural story through which the British experienced India; it is also a story through which Indians learned about themselves. But let us not view such a cultural construction as an exclusively colonial maneuver. As Greenhalgh points out, “Britain too had to create itself at these exhibitions;” the English village, Olde Globe Theatre, Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, Walter Raleigh were all part of this newly created image. 52

The task of securing objects for exhibitions led British officials to express concern over what they saw as the impending disappearance of traditional Indian design. While George Birdwood celebrated the purely Indian gold and silver items, largely arms and armor, presented to the Prince of Wales on his 1875–1876 official visit to India, he bemoaned those that he considered “the most glaring illustrations of the debasement of Hindu and Indian art under European influences.” One such was the elaborate P. Orr & Sons tea service, presented by the Gaekwad of Baroda, and proudly proclaimed by the Madras Mail of 1875 as a magnificent achievement. 53 Birdwood, however, wrote scathingly that, “Nothing could be worse than the tea tray and tea pot, and sugar and milk bowls, in this Madras tea service. The cups and saucers are unobjectionable perhaps, while the spoons, which are Hindu in character, are decidedly pleasing.” 54 Thomas Hendley, Residency surgeon in Jaipur, who played a significant role in organizing the 1883 Jaipur exhibition, spoke at an 1894 Lahore conference, lamenting the craftsmen’s tendency to introduce “some objectionable European features, good enough in its proper place, but wholly unsuitable and barbarous when applied to Oriental art.” 55 And yet, everything depended on these ‘native’ craftsmen; scholar Deepali Dewan has written effectively on the contradictions involved in seeing them as both a ‘source of revival’ and a ‘source of corruption.’ 56 This paradoxical view of the Indian craftsmen was so entrenched that when Henry Y.D. Scott, as exhibition commission secretary, requested a set of traditional jewelry from India for the 1872 London exhibition, he actually had photographs prepared in London of what he required! 57 As Abigail McGowan points out, however, from her focused study of crafts in Western India, “their ideas of what constituted ‘traditional’ design was itself new, forged first at international exhibitions.” 58

Throughout this discourse of misgivings about the Indian craftsman, no consistent voice or policy was formulated regarding the form or decoration of silverware produced in India. Dismay was sometimes expressed at the poor quality of the European models available to Indian craftsmen. BadenPowell commented on the “badly shaped teapots, jugs, and bottles, vases (with snakes twisted around them), and other such goods” available to Kutch workers to copy and then adorn with their typical decorative motifs. He spoke disparagingly of the forms of domestic silver in England as “about as feeble and commonplace as anything can be.” 59 Apart from a few voices like those of George Birdwood, who wanted only Indian forms to be created, most British officials required Indian objects to look ‘Indian’ by carrying Indian decorative motifs, but simultaneously called for their shapes and forms to conform to a Westernized way of life. The insistence on Indian-ness was restricted to ornament. The irrelevance of Indian shapes and form is evidenced by the drawings of Indian patterns, divorced from the objects that bore them, reproduced in two influential design works of the 19th century. Both Digby Wyatt’s The Industrial Arts of the Nineteenth Century ( 1851–1853) and Owen Jones’ Grammar of Ornament (1856) carry such drawings isolated from their context. 60 The intricate floral and geometric designs were admired in and of themselves, with the implication that they could be effectively transferred on to a European context and serve as patterns for fabrics, wallpaper, and the like. It is somewhat ironical that a parallel strategy is apparent in the pages of the Journal of Indian Art and Industry, published in India between 1884 and 1917, with the express view of encouraging Indian ‘arts.’ 61

‘A Habit of Mind’ The essays in this catalog explore the various factors involved in the fashioning and ornamentation of silverware, and its subsequent display, promotion, and sale. “‘Designs to Suit Every Taste’: P. Orr and Sons and Swami Silverware,” highlights the anomalous position held in the late 19th century by Swami silver, that featured Hindu iconographic themes, and was produced by native craftsmen for the European firm of P. Orr & Sons in Madras. While some were captivated by the ‘heathen deities’ of Swami silver, others criticized the work as hybrid and ‘debased.’ Yet, four maharajas commissioned gifts from this Madras firm to present to the Prince of Wales during his visit to India in 1875–1876. Soon thereafter, P. Orr & Sons acquired the prestigious right to the title “Manufacturing Jewellers, Gold and Silversmiths to His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales.” In her essay, Dipti Khera

examines the sources that the craftsmen might have used for their work, studies the catalogs put out by the company in terms of a successful advertising campaign, and considers a photographic album commissioned by the firm to mark their 50th anniversary in the year 1899 which highlights the firm’s multifarious workshops and departments, with a focus on machinery and tools. She evaluates the criticisms leveled against Swami silver in the context of the academic debates that attempted to define Indian design, and shows how P. Orr & Sons circumvented the pendulum of taste by setting Swami silver and its silversmiths “within the modernizing topos of design, manufacture, and economic imperative.”

The next essay is my preliminary exploration of a hitherto unknown group of about 300 drawings recently acquired by the collectors Elizabeth and John Sequeira. The drawings come from the workshops of the famous Kutch silversmiths, Oomersee Mawjee & Sons, both from their original location in the capital of Bhuj and from their later workshop in the town of Baroda whose local ruler, the Gaekwad, served as patron for one of the sons. Half of the drawings partake of the nature of the catalog published by P. Orr & Sons of Madras in that they are intended for consumers ordering silverware; these contain notations in both English and Gujarati on a variety of issues including the range of sizes in which any single item was available. From details given on the making charge per tola (less than half an ounce) weight of silver for various designs, we learn that the Kutch style, as well as Swami-style silverware made in Kutch, was the most highly valued, while Chinese patterns were much cheaper; additionally the making charges for work in gold was roughly twice that of silverware. The other half of the drawings were intended entirely for internal workshop circulation, and consist of repeated details of various types including sketches of animals, drawings of figure types including copies of figure groupings from Raja Ravi Varma lithographs, as well as an entire range of entwined Gothic-style initials to serve as models for the silver craftsmiths to engrave on their ware. This fascinating archive raises a number of intriguing questions including that of the transmission of patterns across region and media.

In “House of Wonder: Silver at the Delhi Durbar Exhibition of 1903,” Yuthika Sharma highlights the role of Viceroy Lord Curzon who wished to showcase the finest in Indian art, “all that was rare, characteristic and beautiful,” portraying himself as the savior of Indian crafts in the face of the damaging trade policies of the Raj. She speaks of the travels of George Watt and Percy Brown to select objects that were truly Indian and devoid of foreign influence. The exhibition, housed in a set of magnificent though temporary buildings adorned with cupolas, jaali screens, and arches, attracted large numbers of visitors who saw the structure as an ajaib-ghar or House of Wonder. Silverware was displayed on either side of the central transepts so as to be highly visible; in addition, an Artisans’ Gallery featured craftsmen at work, and allowed them to sell their wares to visitors. Her essay concludes by tracing the transition from exhibition to museum, since the objects on display were offered for sale to the provincial museums after the government had officially acquired those pieces that it wished to add to the Indian Museum in Calcutta to make its collection more truly representative.

In the final essay, “Testimonial Plate: Swashbuckling Silver,” Wynyard Wilkinson, author of no fewer than four books on British and Indian silver, 62 introduces the reader to the flip-side of the coin in showcasing the British Orientalist response to India. His essay features silver centerpieces or epergnes, produced by British firms in Britain and inscribed for presentation to British officers in India. Created by silversmiths who had little knowledge of the world beyond their workshops, and certainly no knowledge of India, these fanciful centerpieces featured camels, palm trees, and turbaned ‘Indians.’ Made both in silver and electroplate, these hybrid, idealized pieces conjure up an exotic world of the imagination.

The aim of this essay has been to present the milieu in which to both appreciate and evaluate the dazzling silverware reproduced in this catalog. However, since both Orientalism and Imperialism play a part in such an evaluation, it might be useful to conclude with a few thoughts on these topics. It is 30 years since Edward Said transformed the meaning of the word Orientalism from a sympathetic study of

the Orient into a term laden with negative connotations. While generations of scholars will be grateful for the much needed corrective he provided, it is appropriate today to reconsider the degree of the applicability of his ideas to areas of study outside its original field of literary criticism. I find myself in sympathy with John MacKenzie, in his Orientalism: History, Theory and the Arts, when he speaks of some post-Saidian analyses that take on ‘disturbingly ahistorical forms.’ In a discussion of recent writings relating to 19th century painting, he points out that, “when techniques of cultural cross-referencing are used, twentieth century slights and insults often become nineteenth century compliments and sympathies.” 63 A contemporary parallel might be to remember that ‘political correctness’ is a late 20th century concept, unknown even in the mid-20th century; a remark to a woman on her dress, which today might be seen as condescending or insulting, was in its time intended as a compliment.

An issue worthy of comment is what is seen as a colonial obsession with taxonomies. Scholars have critiqued the Peoples of India project, for instance, and the subsequent series of photographs of Andaman islanders, posed standing beside a measuring scale, 64 as if to emphasize their classification as objects of anthropological interest. Are these colonial strategies anything more than what Bernard Cohn terms an ‘enumerative modality’? 65 One might point to pre-modern India’s preoccupation with the classification of her own peoples as seen in texts such as the Kamasutra or Rasamanjari. One Indologist rightly speaks of how all peoples and phases of experience in pre-modern India were “catalogued and categorized, sub-categorized and sub sub-categorized compulsively and obsessively,” suggesting that “to name is to know.” 66 With this perspective, it might be useful to re-evaluate British taxonomic responses to the information overload of the 19th century. 67

If I am being intentionally provocative, it is to ask for space for that ‘habit of mind’ spoken of by John MacKenzie, in his series introduction to Studies in Imperialism, where he states: “Imperialism was more than a set of economic, political, and military phenomena. It was a habit of mind, a dominant idea in an era of European world supremacy which had widespread intellectual, cultural, and technical ramifications.” 68

Growing up as a ‘missy baba’ in a British India household, several aspects of cultural, even intellectual imperialism were, for me, little more than a ‘habit of mind,’ a way of life. I lived what one might today call a bifurcated existence, but which for me was normal everyday living. Tamil vegetarian lunches, cooked by a Tamil Brahmin cook, were eaten by hand off a thali; dinner, on the other hand, eaten with appropriate cutlery on a well-set table, consisted of hot soup, followed by roast chicken or lamb, followed by a steamed pudding with custard, all cooked by a Muslim cook whose kitchen was in an outhouse. And, of course, there was afternoon tea. I must stress that neither at that point of time, nor in the years thereafter, did such a life seem contradictory to me. Being part of the British India

Bombay tea service in the Calcutta style,

1940 Private collection

government service, my family chose to live a partially British way of life. Among my parents’ wedding gifts was a silver tea service from Bombay adorned with Calcutta-style rural scenes (overleaf); some years later, my mother opted for the simple elegance of a Queen Anne silver tea service as a wedding gift for her sister. These choices had nothing to do with the politics of empire. For my mother was among those who had joined the demonstrations in the streets of Bombay, standing outside shops like Army & Navy Stores, and stopping people from entering with the slogan ‘Boycott British Goods.’ An appreciation of Shakespeare and Queen Anne silver was not in contradiction with a love of Sanskrit or admiration for Kanchipuram silk saris, and both could go hand in hand with nationalistic fervor. For many Indians in official positions, and for some of rank and status, a degree of colonial acculturation was an accepted part of life. It is certainly true, as Nicholas Dirks remarks, that “it has not been sufficiently recognized that colonialism was itself a cultural project of control,” 69 yet an insistence on a pre-planned colonial intention of control in all spheres would be an overstatement. In the case of silverware, the introduction of the issue of the craftsman’s agency, which is highlighted in ongoing studies on the role of both master craftsmen and those who form a loose cooperative, 70 allows for a more nuanced reading to surface.

1 Wynyard R.T. Wilkinson, A History of Hallmarks,

Indian Colonial Silver. European Silversmiths in

India 1790–1860 and their Marks (London:

Argent Press, 1973). Also Wynyard R.T.

Wilkinson, The Makers of Indian Colonial Silver:

A Register of European Goldsmiths, Silversmiths,

Jewellers, Watchmakers and Clockmakers in

India and Their Marks, 1760–1860 (London:

W.R.T. Wilkinson, 1987). 2 John Forbes Royle, Official Descriptive and

Illustrated Catalogue, 1851 : p. 936, as quoted in

Abigail McGowan, “‘All That Is Rare,

Characteristic or Beautiful’– Design and the

Defense of Tradition in Colonial India 1851–1903,” Journal of Material Culture 10, no. 3 (2005): p. 266. 3 List of Art Manufactures, Exclusive of Textiles, of the Bombay Presidency (Bombay: Govt. Central

Press, 1885), pp. 4–5. 4 See “Kutch Embossed Silverware,” pp. 126–151 . 5 See Tirthankar Roy, “Out of Tradition: Master

Artists and Economic Change in Colonial India,”

Journal of Asian and African Studies 66, no. 4 (2007): pp. 963–991 , for a discussion on individual masters-cum-innovators. He also speaks of how “designers in a whole range of crafts approached Indian buyers with Western themes and Western buyers with ‘oriental’ themes,” p. 988. 6 Sir George Watt, Indian Art at Delhi, 1903:

Being the Official Catalogue of the Delhi

Exhibition, 1902–1903 (Calcutta: Superintendent of Government Printing, India, 1903), p. 451 , and Plate No. 63, “Copy in Wood of Stone Pillar in Madura Temple.” Watt informs us that they were made under the supervision of the

Madura Technical School. 7 As late as the 1970s, the gift presented to us by

Indian Telephone Industries, on the occasion of their 75th anniversary, was a silver-plated tea service embellished with their logo. 8 B.H. Baden-Powell, “Cutch Silver Work (Western

India),” The Journal of Indian Art and Industry

V, no. 45 (1894): p. 60 9 A large group of such drawings are in the collection of John Sequeira. (See Vidya Dehejia,

“A Cache Uncovered: Workshop Drawings of

Oomersee Mawjee of Kutch,” pp. 38–47). 10 For examples, see “British Indian Section –

Paris Universal Exhibition, 1889,” The Journal of

Indian Art 28 (1889): p. 11 . Among the vendors at the Paris exhibition, it lists: Procter & Co, 428 Oxford Street which has ‘Kutch silver plate from their own workshops in Bombay.’ 11 I have drawn on Wynyard W.T. Wilkinson,

Indian Silver 1858–1949: Silver from the Indian

Sub-Continent and Burma Made by Local

Craftsmen in Western Forms (London: W.R.T.

Wilkinson, 1999), p. 2, for much information regarding silver and its sources. 12 Edward Maclagan, Monograph on the Gold and

Silver Works of the Punjab, 1888–89 (Lahore Civil and Military Gazette Press, contractors to the

Punjab Govt., 1890). We are told that as much as Rs. 8000 worth of Chinese silver was imported each day via Bombay, generally as slabs valued at Rs. 3000 apiece. 13 J.L. Kipling, “The Brass and Copper Ware of the

Punjab and Cashmere,” Journal of Indian Art 1 : p. 8. 14 The Revenue Act 1884 (47 & 48 Vict.c.62) section 4 as quoted in Wilkinson, Indian Silver, p. 7. 15 I have drawn heavily on two splendid volumes on the subject of international exhibitions:

Paul Greenhalgh, Ephemeral Vistas: The

Expositions Universelles, Great Exhibitions and World’s Fairs, 1851–1939 (Manchester:

Manchester University Press, 1988); and

Peter H. Hoffenberg, An Empire on Display:

English, Indian, and Australian Exhibitions from the Crystal Palace to the Great War (Berkeley:

University of California Press, 2001 ). 16 Patrick Geddess, Industrial Exhibitions and

Modern Progress (Edinburgh: David Douglas, 1887), p. 8, as quoted in Hoffenberg, An Empire on Display, p. 1 . 17 Greenhalgh, Ephemeral Vistas, p. 1 . 18 Greenhalgh, Ephemeral Vistas. p. 198. 19 Greenhalgh, Ephemeral Vistas, Chapter 2,

“Funding, Politics and Society.” 20 Abigail McGowan, Material Changes: Crafts and the Culture of the Economy in Western India, 1851–1922, typescript of forthcoming manuscript, p. 7 21 Arindam Dutta, The Bureaucracy of Beauty :

Design in the Age of Its Global Reproducibility (New York: Routledge, 2007), p. 104, quoting from Department of Science and Art, The

Introduction to the Drawing Book of the School of Design, Published in the Years 1842–43, under the direction of W. Dyce (London: Chapman and

Hall, 1854), pp. xvi–xviii. 22 Greenhalgh, Ephemeral Vistas, pp. 16–25, consolidates into four categories the analysis of critic ‘Helix’ who wrote in 1850 on the aims of the then forthcoming Crystal Palace exhibition. 23 Greenhalgh, Ephemeral Vistas, p. 23 24 Greenhalgh, Ephemeral Vistas, p. 2. See also

Appendix A in Hoffenberg, An Empire on

Display: pp. 279–280. Given below are some of the major exhibitions held in just England and

India to give some idea of the frequency and geographical coverage of such events:

Great Exhibition (Crystal Palace): 1851

Bombay Metropolitan: 1854

Madras Industrial: 1855

London International Exhibition (South

Kensington): 1862

Calcutta Agricultural: 1864

Punjab Art and Industry: 1864

Nagpore Arts, Manufactures, and

Produce: 1865

London International: 1871–74

Punjab Art and Industry: 1881

Calcutta International: 1883–84 Jeypore Art and Industrial: 1883 Colonial and Indian (South Kensington): 1886 Empire of India: 1895 Delhi Durbar and Indian Art: 1903 25 Greenhalgh, Ephemeral Vistas, p. 15. 26 Hoffenberg, An Empire on Display, p. xv. 27 Carol A. Breckenridge, “The Aesthetics and

Politics of Colonial Collecting: India at World

Fairs,” Comparative Studies in Society and

History 31 , no. 2 (1989): p. 206. 28 Calcutta Review, 26, 1856: p. 283(?), as quoted in Hoffenberg, An Empire on Display, p. 4 29 Hoffenberg, An Empire on Display, p. 2 30 See Yuthika Sharma, “A House of Wonder:

Silver at the Delhi Durbar Exhibition of 1903,” pp. 48–64, for a discussion on the ‘Artificers’

Gallery’ at the 1903 Delhi exhibition. 31 Hoffenberg, An Empire on Display, p. 13 32 See “Calcutta Silver and Rural Scenes,” pp. 184–189. 33 As reported in “Extracts From the Press,” in P.

Orr & Sons catalog, Manufacturing Jewellers,

Gold and Silversmiths, to His Royal Highness the

Prince of Wales, by Special Appointment (Swami

Catalogue), 1877. 34 P. Orr & Sons, Swami Catalogue, first line drawing. 35 P. Orr & Sons, Swami Catalogue, p. 1 . 36 Wilkinson, Indian Silver, p. 5. 37 Wilkinson, Indian Silver, p. 5. 38 George C.M. Birdwood, Paris Universal

Exhibition of 1878: Handbook to the British

Section. Presentation Edition (London and Paris:

Offices of the Royal Commission, 1878), p. 59. 39 Hoffenberg, An Empire on Display, p. 83. See also Birdwood, Paris Universal Exhibition of 1878. 40 Wilkinson, Indian Silver, p. 6. 41 Wilkinson, Indian Silver, pp. 172–179. 42 Wilkinson, Indian Silver, p. 211 . 43 Personal information from Wynyard Wilkinson. 44 Wilkinson, Indian Silver, Pl. 8, p. 10; Pl. 12, p. 12. 45 Saloni Mathur, Chapter 1 , “The Indian Village in

Victorian Space. The Department Store and the

Cult of the Craftsman,” pp. 27–51 in Saloni

Mathur, India by Design. Colonial History and

Cultural Display ( Berkeley: University of

California Press, 2007). 46 Liberty & Co. Catalogue for 1881, microfiche no. 3, National Art Library, London. 47 McGowan, Material Changes, p. 18, points out that the international exhibitions, Indian exhibitions, and Indian museums all shared common classificatory strategies as also common personnel. 48 Dutta, The Bureaucracy of Beauty, p. 22. 49 Dutta, The Bureaucracy of Beauty, p. 3. 50 See Yuthika Sharma, “A House of Wonder:

Silver at the Delhi Durbar Exhibition of 1903,” pp. 48–64, for an in-depth discussion on

George Watt. 51 Hoffenberg, An Empire on Display, pp. 49–62. 52 Greenhalgh, Ephemeral Vistas, p. 125. 53 P. Orr & Sons, Swami Catalogue, “Extracts From the Press.” 54 Birdwood, Paris Universal Exhibition of 1878, p. 60. 55 Dutta, The Bureaucracy of Beauty, note 52, p. 334. He quotes from Proceedings of the Art

Conference Held in the Technical Institute at

Lahore on the 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th January 1894, p. 12. 56 Deepali Dewan, “The Body at Work: Colonial

Art Education and the Figure of the ‘Native

Craftsman,’” in Confronting the Body: The

Politics of Physicality in Colonial and Post

Colonial India, edited by James H. Mills and

Satadru Sen (London: Anthem Press, 2004), pp. 118–34. 57 McGowan, “‘All that is Rare, Beautiful or

Characteristic,’” p. 278. 58 McGowan, “‘All that is Rare, Beautiful or

Characteristic,’” p. 263. 59 Baden-Powell, “Cutch Silver Work (Western

India),” p. 62. 60 McGowan, Material Changes, p. 12. 61 Deepali Dewan, “Scripting South Asia’s Visual

Past: The Journal of Indian Art and Industry and the Production of Knowledge in the Late

Nineteenth Century,” in Imperial Co-Histories:

National Identities and the British and Colonial

Press, edited by Julie F. Codell, Madison (N.J.:

Fairleigh Dickinson University Press; London:

Associated University Presses, 2003), pp. 29–44, especially 36f. 62 Wilkinson, Indian Colonial Silver; The Makers of

Indian Colonial Silver; Indian Silver. 63 John M. Mackenzie, Orientalism: History,

Theory, and the Arts (Manchester: Manchester

University Press, 1995), p. xxi. 64 Vidya Dehejia, India through the Lens:

Photography, 1840–1911 (Munich; London: Freer

Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery in association with Mapin and Prestel, 2000), Plate 42 on p. 115. 65 Bernard S. Cohn, Colonialism and Its Forms of

Knowledge: The British in India (Princeton, N.J.;

Chichester: Princeton University Press, 1996), p. 8 66 Lee Siegel, Fires of Love; Waters of Peace.

Passion and Renunciation in Indian Culture (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1983), p. 34. 67 Mackenzie, Orientalism, p. xiv. Of the Victorian and Edwardian periods he comments: “Given the immense quantity of information pouring in upon them, it is perhaps not surprising that they were obsessed with classification, attempting through codification to control and understand this welter of material.” 68 John Mackenzie, general editor of Studies in

Imperialism. See for instance his Introduction to

Greenhalgh, Ephemeral Vistas, p. ix. 69 Nicholas B. Dirks, “Foreword,” in Cohn,

Colonialism and Its Forms of Knowledge, p. ix. 70 Tirthankar Roy, “Out of Tradition,” pp. 963–91 .

Also McGowan, Material Changes.