A recent article in The Hindu ’s BusinessLine that drew attention to a woman painter in early 19th Century India reminded me that her meticulous watercolours of birds of Madras not only pre-dated by twenty years the work of perhaps the most famous bird artist of all time, James Audubon, an American, but were also of a quality that enabled viewers to speak of them in the same breath as Audubon’s creations. Sadly, her work vanished from the public eye in 1808 and did not come to light again till 1924, by which time there was no shaking Audubon’s reputation. Today, Lady Elizabeth Gwillim’s 121 bird paintings are in the Blacker-Wood Library of McGill University, Montreal, Canada, but not on display. The public, therefore, do not have the chance to see the watercolours that have been described as “the finest ever done of Asian birds”.
Elizabeth Symonds, the daughter of an architect, was not known as an artist when she met and married a barrister, Henry Gwillim, who went on to become the Chief Justice of the Isles of Ely, was knighted and then was appointed one of the three justices of the first Supreme Court of Madras. The Gwillims arrived in Madras in 1801, accompanied by her Ladyship’s most eligible sister Mary. It was in Madras that Lady Elizabeth began to paint in earnest, her work, according to experts, reflecting enormous patience and considerable powers of observation, besides much talent and a “saucy” sense of humour.
It was after tiring of the social whirl of the Madras of the day that Elizabeth and her sister began to spend time in the countryside around the city painting. While Elizabeth painted birds, Mary painted fish and flowers. Meanwhile, in the Madras courts, Sir Henry was proving a most quarrelsome member of the judiciary.
Justice Gwillim not only had “violent” disagreements with Sir Thomas Strange, the Chief Justice, and his fellow Puisne Justice, Benjamin Sullivan, but also with the Governor, Lord William Bentinck. After the Vellore Mutiny of 1806, Government created a regular police force. When there was a riot in the grain bazaar in Madras and this force tried to put it down, Gwillim had the policemen arrested! He held that the police force had been created without the permission of the Supreme Court. Not long after, when an Indian was arrested on a criminal charge, Gwillim admitted a motion of habeas corpus and turned his ire on the Superintendent of Police and the Advocate General. Not content with this, he wrote to the Cabinet in England, saying, among other things, “Can these outrages be sanctioned by a Bentinck, by one of that family so illustrious in the cause of liberty? It is impossible! None of the noble blood of the Cavendishes (the Bentinck family) can flow in the veins of this man. He must be some spurious changeling that has been palmed (off) upon that noble family and contaminated it…. What! put a soldier to act as the head of the Police where he is to deprive men of his liberties?... Not one of us is safe. We are living under a complete military despotism…”
The battle between Gwillim and the Chief Justice as well as with the Governor and Government went on for months before the Lords of the Privy Council ordered that he be removed from the Bench.
The behaviour of her husband must have tested the patience of Lady Elizabeth throughout their years in Madras. Maybe that’s why she turned to nature and painting for solace. But in the end, perhaps even that was not enough, for she died shortly before her husband’s dismissal and was buried on the Island, in the cemetery of St. Mary’s in the Fort. Her death left an unanswered question and, therefore, a mystery: She died of “unknown causes”, was what the official record stated.
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Trailing bridges and a canal
D. Hemachandra Rao is a veteran civil engineer who has been passionately exploring the city to rediscover its 19th Century bridges and following the lay of the Buckingham Canal in Tamil Nadu, especially examining its locks. His finds have been the subject of exhibitions at various venues during recent Madras Weeks. When he met me recently with several pictures of the arched bridges of Madras, he told me that he’s found several stories about their construction that he’d come across during his research on the bridges in the Archives.
Running out of space, I’ll keep a couple of Hemachandra Rao’s stories for next week. Meanwhile, I wonder how many of these 15 major bridges built before 1840 can be identified by readers:
The Government Garden Bridge (St. George’s Bridge); the Commander-in-Chief Bridge; St. Andrew’s Bridge; Wallajah Bridge; College Bridge or Anderson Bridge; Suspension Bridge; Munro Bridge; Burying Ground Bridge; Marmalong Bridge; Benfield Bridge; Basin Bridge; Elephant Gate Bridge; Hospital Bridge; Otteri Nullah Bridge; and Calingaroy Bridge. The first eight are over the Cooum River; the ninth is over the Adyar River; the next is over a drainage channel; the three thereafter are over the Buckingham Canal; and the last two are over the Otteri Nullah.
No prizes, but would be glad to hear from anyone who has identified the 15 locations with a landmark or a nearby road.
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When the postman knocked…
* S. Subbarayalu of the Indian Forest Service, who retired as Principal Chief Conservator of Forests and was the founder Director of the Vandalur Zoo, had a quick answer to my question (Miscellany, September 29) seeking more information about Dr. Francis Appavoo who served in the Forestry Department in the Madras Presidency in the mid-19th Century. Apparently Appavoo was a Dresser in the Medical Department in 1855 when Dr. Hugh Cleghorn, Professor of Botany and Materia Medica, chose him as an Assistant. A fellow Dresser objected to the appointment but Cleghorn succeeded in convincing the authorities about Appavoo’s credentials. The next year, Cleghorn was appointed the first Conservator of Forests, Madras Presidency, and, as the Father of Forestry in India, he was asked by Government to write a book about the formation of the Forest Department and its early work. He wanted an assistant for the work and had a post created for Appavoo, who had by then been promoted a Native Surgeon. A year or so later, Cleghorn received a letter from Madras Medical College that Appavoo would have as a Native Surgeon been drawing double the salary he was getting as Cleghorn’s Assistant. Sadly, Subbarayulu does not tell us what happened next, nor does he offer any background about Appavoo. Is there a descendant around who has some answers?
* Searching through Subbarayalu’s book on Cleghorn released earlier this year, after receiving his letter with further information about Appavoo, I found nothing about him in it, but I came across a tidbit that no one had mentioned to me many moons ago when I wrote about Robert Wight and the lack of information about his two artists, Govindoo and Rungiah (Miscellany, October 28, 2002). That they were indeed recognised for their work and remembered by Wight is what I found in this biography of Cleghorn. Apparently Wight named an orchid Govindooia nervosa and a medicinal plant Rungiah pectinta . I also found in Subbarayulu’s Dr. H.F.C. Cleghorn: Founder of Forest Conservancy in India the fact that Gerhard König (Miscellany, September 29) had focused not only on Botany but also done research into South Indian entomology, particularly on termites. An article on them by König was published in 1779 in the German journal The Research Activities of the Berlin Society of the Friends of Nature . Could this be considered the first paper on entomology from India? An item in Miscellany, January 6, however, tells a different story. Perhaps an adjudicator will have an answer for readers.
* Madhusudan Vittal, a doctor from Australia, writes asking me to “enlighten the public about an unsung hero, a remarkable doctor called Yellapragada Subba Rao, an alumnus of MMC.” Vittal adds, “He has done some path-breaking medical research for which neither we nor the international fraternity have given him any credit. Perhaps you could by writing to mobilise opinion so that at least he gets a memorial plaque in MMC to inspire present students.” I did write about Dr. Row (the spelling in the records) as far back as July 16, 2001, in Miscellany, listing many of his medical discoveries at Harvard Medical School and Lederle Laboratories. My item was titled ‘Another forgotten for the Nobel’ and could be found in the Miscellany archives in The Hindu ’s website. If Vittal could provide me more information than what I’ve already recorded about Dr. Row, I’d be glad to do another piece on the man who was called ‘The Wizard of Wonder Drugs’. Meanwhile, I endorse the idea of commemoration at the College.
