An embarrassment of Indian riches
Splendours of the Subcontinent
An Indian summer awaits at the Queen’s Gallery, in Buckingham Palace, with two exhibitions for the price of one. They’re given the overall title of Splendours of the Subcontinent, and all pieces are drawn from the Royal Collection.
A Prince’s Tour of India
1875-76 offers the more rapid rewards. This show tells the tale of a four-month trip around the Indian subcontinent taken by the then Prince of Wales, Albert Edward (later King Edward VII) – the first trip of its kind by a British royal, rule in the region having passed from the East India Company to the British Crown two decades earlier.
He visited 90 different rulers, from the court of Benares to that of Baroda, travelling 10,000 miles – across what is modern-day India, Sri Lanka, Pakistan and Nepal – in the process. On show now is a marvellous selection of the gifts he received, including an exquisite, goldenamelled inkstand in the form of a barge; a vast coat of armour made from pangolin scales; and a silver astrolabe, to measure the position of planets and stars.
There’s a real sense of the Indian rulers trying to outdo each other with these presents, in a bid to impress the Prince. In most cases, pieces seem to have been designed to show off their craftsman’s skill rather than for practical use.
A good example is what looks like a walking stick, with a gold handle in the form of an exotic seacreature. Remove the handle, though, and suddenly the stick reveals itself to be a gun – one that, mercifully, the Prince of Wales never fired.
In June 1876, upon returning home, the Prince put his gifts on display at the South Kensington Museum (today’s V&A), in an exhibition that proved so popular it travelled to nine other UK venues, as well as Paris and Copenhagen. By 1882, more than two million Brits had seen it, with firms such as Liberty seeking to cash in, by commissioning Indian-style fabrics and dinner services.
The second of the exhibitions, Four Centuries of South Asian Paintings and Manuscripts, focuses on links between India and the British Crown over a much longer period. It features works – from the 1580s to the early 20th century – that have found their way into the Royal Collection as purchases, diplomatic gifts or, occasionally, fruits of military conquest. Given their delicacy, many have never been exhibited before.
There are delights at every turn. For instance, the picture of a chameleon clinging to a tree branch, by the 17th-century master of natural history painting, Mansur. Minuscule, green impasto dots simulate the surface of the subject’s skin – though my favourite feature is the glint in its eye, as it casts a sly glance at an insect it fancies for dinner.
This painting, like Four Centuries… as a whole, isn’t for those seeking instant gratification. My advice is to be patient and look closely. You’ll be amply rewarded.
Particularly in the case of the 10 folios from The Padshahnama, an illustrated manuscript commissioned by Mughal emperor Shah Jahan to celebrate the achievements of his reign. He enlisted a crack team of artists for the job – across the 1630s, 1640s and 1650s – and the detail is staggering.
Take the folio that depicts (among much else) the decapitation by Shah Jahan’s soldiers of the rebellious noble, Lodi. With a gruesome realism reminiscent of Caravaggio’s beheading scenes, blood spurts everywhere from Lodi’s neck, attracting a swarm of flies. (The dead rebel’s head, incidentally, is strikingly bald, his turban having been removed as a supreme mark of dishonour.)
Four Centuries… perhaps presupposes a tad too much knowledge on the average visitor’s part about Indian culture and history. Which is to say, there’s little in the way of background information as we switch from, say, Rajputs to ragamalas. A Prince’s Tour of India, meanwhile, fails to address the extent to which the royal visit was a bridge-building mission after the Indian Mutiny of 1857.
Those, however, are minor quibbles. The two exhibitions, combined, boast infinitely more riches than one has the right to expect for a £12 ticket. I tend to be suspicious of alliterative exhibition titles making bold claims – but Splendours of the Subcontinent more than lives up to its billing.
Queen’s Gallery, London SW1, tomorrow until Oct 14; royalcollection.org.uk 0303 123 7301