Their museum, my sighs

Time of India

29-07-2025

When Clive of India was recently spotted in Wales
Family holidays are invariably hard work for those with an archaeologist or historian in the family. There's no basking in the sun with a book and a Margarita, no lie-in or breakfast in bed. The days follow a regular 9-5 routine. Endless aisles of Louvre are navigated, shoes are worn out at Smithsonian, and the mummies of British Museum are practically on first-name terms.
There's always an exception to everything – something that breaks the pattern. A recent visit to Powis Castle in Wales to see the Clive Collection was one such outlier. Yes, Robert Clive – or Clive of India – who laid the foundation of the British East India Company's reign of Bengal. When he left India, it was with a cool personal fortune of £31mn (today's value), amassed at immeasurable human cost. That was just the cash and doesn't include the priceless artefacts that visitors are privileged to see.
An impressive collection of Mughal-era artefacts is on display at Powis. It assembles items amassed by two generations of the Clive family: his son Edward served as the governor of Madras. It's also a reminder of the stealth, guile and deceit of East India Company. But that is history and one shouldn't quarrel with history.
The most stunning display is one of the finials detached from the throne of Tipu Sultan of Mysore – a dazzlingly well-made tiger-head in solid gold, studded with diamonds, rubies and emeralds. Other objects that stand out include the ornately carved palanquin of Siraj ud-Daulah, the last Nawab of Bengal, and the elegant chintz cotton tent that Tipu used during his battles. The multitude of exquisite pieces, both on display and in storage, outnumbers any collection in national museums across South Asia.
Each object was examined with an intensity the visitors didn't know they possessed. It was as if their own history lay bare among the ivory-hilted daggers and swords, curved gold-brocaded shoes, and elaborate paintings. The experience was like peering into a time gone by – an epoch otherwise encountered only in school textbooks and dry, one-dimensional history lessons. The affinity they felt towards the objects was difficult to make sense of – like trying to remember the details of a vivid but elusive dream. Nevertheless, standing among Clive's loot that morning, they heard the echo of battle cries, the neigh of horses and the stomping of hooves. The Indian visitors left Powis with the spectre of Robert Clive trailing behind them.
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