These works have since become a significant ethno-socio-cultural document, says Sudipto Mullick.
What a difference good governance can make— this might well be one of the takeaways from the recently concluded exhibition, People of Bengal: Coloured
Etchings by Frans Balthazar Solvyns, held at the Alipore Jail Museum. While contemporary Indians often view the West as the epitome of opportunity, it was back in 1791 that the Flemish fine artist Balthazar, also known as Baltazard Solvyns, arrived in Calcutta—then under British rule—from Antwerp, Belgium.
He took a considerable risk to escape political unrest in Northern Europe and lived in Bengal for over a decade, hoping to change his fortunes. As a European, Solvyns brought with him a characteristic ethnographic lens. His works, accompanied by detailed descriptions, offered a profound, multi-layered reflection of Bengal under colonial rule. These etchings have since become a significant ethno-socio-cultural document, widely hailed as “the first great ethnographic survey of life in Bengal,” as noted by Dr. Giles Tillotson, Senior Vice President of Exhibitions and Publications at DAG and curator of the show, during the artist walkthrough on opening day.
Calcutt a Creations
While residing in Calcutta, Solvyns created and published 250 hand-coloured etchings between 1796 and 1799. Upon returning to Europe, he expanded and reorganized them into a four-volume edition titled Les Hindoûs, published in Paris between 1808 and 1812, eventually totaling 288 etchings with accompanying text in both French and English.
Curated from these comprehensive Parisian originals, the exhibited 18th-century etchings also served as prototypes for the “Company School” genre of paintings—depictions of occupations that were later replicated by Indian artists for British patrons in the 19th century. Solvyns chronicled a wide spectrum of professions (potters, cobblers, cowherds, grocers, toddy-tappers, etc.) and social strata, along
with customs, attire, and material concerns. His tableaux included festivals, performances, animals, birds, insects, trees, crops, carriages, musical instruments, and—perhaps owing to his background as a marine painter—a meticulous catalog of boats, canoes, dinghies, ferries, and yachts.
Harrowing Realities and Cultural Vignettes
Among the most harrowing images is that of a newly-wedded teenage widow from the lower caste Tantubay Hindu community, being led into a freshly dug trench to be buried alive—a chilling depiction of a funerary practice. Satidaha pratha, a similar but more widespread ritual, is captured in Choho-Gomon, equally disturbing in its intensity.
In contrast, the epic rendering of Durga Puja— where the goddess is stylized to resemble a praying mantis—is a well-regarded piece. The idol aboard a boat, surrounded by chanting Brahmin priests and devotees just before immersion, evokes a powerful sense of ancient déjà vu. Solvyns’ treatment of dhoti drapes band turban folds leans more toward academic illustration than aesthetic flourish. Scholars often interpret his prints as “art as information.”
Figures such as rustic fakirs, bustling bazaars, palanquin bearers, and sentinels are rendered with immersive realism. Notable examples include the Soudre, carrying a metal pot (Badna) for his master’s ablutions; the Gouallah (cowherd), contemplatively leaning on a stick with an umbrella in hand; and the Bannean (trader), acting as assistant and interpreter between his white master and local merchants. The master is depicted seated at a table with a quill and ink well, in a spacious room overlooking a French window.
Upper-class women are distinguished by their ornate jewellery, footwear, and the ubiquitous hookah beside their beds, though their heads—like those of women across classes—are modestly covered by the trailing end of their sarees. One compelling study shows a preacher sermonizing outdoors to a ragtag crowd, with women eavesdropping from behind a thin thatched screen—revealing their marginal position in society. The poor are marked by tattered clothing; Indians are consistently portrayed as dark-skinned and robust. White garments recur frequently across the etchings.
Solvyns also produced portraits of various castes and Mughal couples, such as the Radjah Paré, reminiscent of miniature painting. Dancers in the Nachni series appear non-Bengali. In Nations Différentes (Different Nations), people of diverse ethnicities—Armenian, Chinese, Malay—are shown alongside Hindus and Muslims, reflecting Bengal’s cosmopolitan character.
Marine Heart
Solvyns’ depictions of boats on the Hooghly and Bay of Bengal are executed with such fidelity that they could serve as historical evidence. These marine scenes reveal his emotional investment, with land and waterscapes rendered so vividly that viewers can sense the warmth of the skies and the motion of the tides. He was particularly captivated by the Hooghly bore tide.
Real and Raw
Solvyns achieved a raw authenticity by engraving the plates himself, unlike contemporaries such as Emily Eden who relied on professional engravers— often compromising emotional and aesthetic depth. He is also known to have added colour during the printing process, enhancing the immediacy of his work.
Funny Captions and Cultural Gaps
Despite his precision, some of Solvyns’ transcriptions of Indian terms are amusingly off-mark. For instance, Durga’s immersion is captioned Busso-Jun, The Throwing the Images of the Gods into the Water, while Tcharok poudjah (Charak Puja) and Behichty (Bhisti/ water-carrier) reflect phonetic approximations that may sound risible to native speakers.
Another point of contention is his occasional inability to capture authentic Indian features. His gaze, filtered through a Caucasian lens, sometimes falters. However, Solvyns could argue that the softened frames were not his own. Edward and William Orme—an artist and a publisher—copied sixty of Solvyns’ Calcutta prints, scaled them down, and modified the text. Their version, The Costume of Indostan, portrayed characters as more cheerful and sanitized. Ironically, this derivative work achieved greater success and was reissued in 1807.
Reality Failure
Solvyns’ first edition, printed in monochrome in 1796 and supplemented with descriptive text in 1799, was well-publicized but poorly received. Critics found the images too crude and the tone too sombre. Audiences, accustomed to picturesque landscapes by artists like Thomas and William Daniell, expected similar aesthetics.
The Ormes, despite acknowledging Solvyns’ influence, did not seek his permission. In response, Solvyns denounced their book as a “counterfeit” and an “abuse” in the Preliminary Discourse of his 1808 Paris edition. If one were to note true omissions in Solvyns’ work, they would be the underrepresentation of women and the absence of Muslim elites.
Art as Life
This episode offers another compelling takeaway from the exhibition: merely copying another artist’s work does not make one an artist. Artistic expression is inseparable from lived experience. When François Baltazard Solvyns (July 6, 1760 – October 10, 1824), took a chance on Most European artists of the time sought patronage and prestige by painting portraits of royal families or East India Company officials, or by producing sanitized depictions of India’s monuments—such as the Taj Mahal or Akbar’s Tomb—and picturesque landscapes.
According to scholar Robert L. Hardgrave Jr., Solvyns, who was neither a skilled landscape artist nor a portraitist at the time, became something of a journeyman. His early years in Bengal were spent painting for theatres, accepting modest commissions, and sketching the Andaman and Nicobar Islands for the Surveyor-General of India, Alexander Kyd. He also took on odd jobs: arranging decorations for celebrations and balls, outfitting coaches and palanquins, cleaning and restoring paintings, and tutoring in oils, watercolour, and chalk.
Outer Sphere
Excluded from mainstream European circles and lacking patronage from royal families or highranking East India Company officials, Solvyns was denied access to lucrative commissions. This marginalization inadvertently led him to explore the back lanes and lower rungs of Calcutta society. It also steered him away from idealized monuments and landscapes, compelling him instead to focus on the gritty, everyday realities of Bengal.
Though his income was steady, it fell short of artistic fulfillment. This void prompted him to embark on his ambitious ethnographic project— partly inspired by the Orientalist Sir William Jones and partly driven by his perception of British curiosity about native lifestyles. His goal: to produce a comprehensive visual survey of Bengal’s people and customs.
Disheartened by the lukewarm reception of his work, Solvyns eventually returned to Paris, and later to Antwerp in 1814, where he spent his final years. During the voyage back, a tumultuous sea journey damaged or destroyed many of his original engraved copper plates. Undeterred, he recreated the works from salvaged materials and memory. He never returned to India.
