Naturally my copy of The
Colonial Office List for 1911 is fairly useless without having close to hand that same year’s edition of The India List and
India Office List. Many of the advertisements are identical, but with
telling variations. It is not exactly clear to me why the Indian Civil Service
was singled out by Swan Fountain Pens; Messrs. Silver & Co., of Cornhill,
who knew “exactly what is needed for every part of the globe,” or William Coles
& Co., Inventors and Makers of the Spiral String Truss (est. 1819).
However, there were evidently good reasons for targeting the markets in
Calcutta, Madras, New Delhi, and Bombay for jodhpurs, polo mallets, pith
helmets, specialist banking, insurance, and shipping services for India, as well as Callaghan’s Binoculars, Stalking, Yachting, and Astronomical
Telescopes and Aneroid Barometers—according
to the Oxford English Dictionary, an aneroid barometer measures air pressure,
not by the height of a column of mercury or some other fluid which it sustains,
but by its action on the elastic lid of a vacuum box or flask—and, of course, Dinneford’s Magnesia, “approved
by the medical profession for over 60 years as the best remedy for acidity of
the stomach, heartburn, headache, gout, and indigestion, and the safest aperient
[laxative] for delicate constitutions, ladies, children, and infants.” I suppose it is hardly surprising that The Law List (which meticulously includes attorneys-general, puisne judges, among many other law officers, etc. etc., serving in the colonies), The Army List and The Navy List, meanwhile, shunned advertising, although The Foreign Office List and Diplomatic and Consular Yearbook did not. In the latter case, certain hints toward the carefully differentiated needs of a British legation, as distinct from a colonial outpost, are discernable, namely J. Schweppe & Co., manufacturers of mineral waters; Carson’s paint, which “stands a tropical sun without blistering”; Thurston’s billiard tables; Allen’s portmanteaus, and Clark’s noiseless, self-coiling, revolving steel, iron and wood shutters (satisfactorily “fire and thief proof”). However, a full-page advertisement for Osler’s crystal glass chandeliers, wall lights and lustres for gas and candles, kerosene and moderator lamps for India and home use (my italics) certainly re-introduces a note of ambiguity.
Showing posts with label advertising. Show all posts
Showing posts with label advertising. Show all posts
Friday, May 11, 2012
The India List and India Office List
Naturally my copy of The
Colonial Office List for 1911 is fairly useless without having close to hand that same year’s edition of The India List and
India Office List. Many of the advertisements are identical, but with
telling variations. It is not exactly clear to me why the Indian Civil Service
was singled out by Swan Fountain Pens; Messrs. Silver & Co., of Cornhill,
who knew “exactly what is needed for every part of the globe,” or William Coles
& Co., Inventors and Makers of the Spiral String Truss (est. 1819).
However, there were evidently good reasons for targeting the markets in
Calcutta, Madras, New Delhi, and Bombay for jodhpurs, polo mallets, pith
helmets, specialist banking, insurance, and shipping services for India, as well as Callaghan’s Binoculars, Stalking, Yachting, and Astronomical
Telescopes and Aneroid Barometers—according
to the Oxford English Dictionary, an aneroid barometer measures air pressure,
not by the height of a column of mercury or some other fluid which it sustains,
but by its action on the elastic lid of a vacuum box or flask—and, of course, Dinneford’s Magnesia, “approved
by the medical profession for over 60 years as the best remedy for acidity of
the stomach, heartburn, headache, gout, and indigestion, and the safest aperient
[laxative] for delicate constitutions, ladies, children, and infants.” I suppose it is hardly surprising that The Law List (which meticulously includes attorneys-general, puisne judges, among many other law officers, etc. etc., serving in the colonies), The Army List and The Navy List, meanwhile, shunned advertising, although The Foreign Office List and Diplomatic and Consular Yearbook did not. In the latter case, certain hints toward the carefully differentiated needs of a British legation, as distinct from a colonial outpost, are discernable, namely J. Schweppe & Co., manufacturers of mineral waters; Carson’s paint, which “stands a tropical sun without blistering”; Thurston’s billiard tables; Allen’s portmanteaus, and Clark’s noiseless, self-coiling, revolving steel, iron and wood shutters (satisfactorily “fire and thief proof”). However, a full-page advertisement for Osler’s crystal glass chandeliers, wall lights and lustres for gas and candles, kerosene and moderator lamps for India and home use (my italics) certainly re-introduces a note of ambiguity.Wednesday, May 9, 2012
The Colonial Office List again
The cost of publishing The Colonial Office List was partly
offset by advertising, and many of the ads were geared towards the exigencies
of colonial life. In 1911 they included half- or full-page ads for Hickie, Borman, Grant & Co. Ltd., general shipping and
forwarding agents
(“passages booked and baggage shipped by all lines”); Henry Sotheran & Co., agents for all book-buyers in
India, the colonies, and abroad; Ede, Son & Ravenscroft, colonial and civil
uniforms (“the firm has been the recognised authority on court dress and robes for 200 years”); The Hardy Patent Pick Co. Ltd., hammer and rock drills; The
Westminster Palace Hotel in London (for a little home leave: “Unrivalled position, overlooking Trafalgar Square, facing new entrance to the Mall, close to Houses of Parliament, Government Offices, theatres, and other places of interest and entertainment in the West End”); B. Drew & Co., hosiers, shirtmakers and general
outfitters for W.A.F.F. khaki field service kit (“for officers serving with the West African Frontier Force and West African Regiment”); Army, Navy, and General
Assurance Association Ltd., for accident and disease insurance (“double the usual compensations in the event of death, loss of eyes or limbs, or temporary disablement, total or partial, when arising from accident to a railway train”); The Legal and
General Life Assurance Society; The Hunslett Engine Co., Ltd., manufacturers of
locomotive, tender and tank engines to suit any gauge of railway; Cammell,
Laird & Co. Ltd., axles, springs, buffers, files, and rasps; Wm. Potts
& Sons, Ltd., cathedral, church, and turret clock manufacturers (“watchmakers to the Admiralty, first on list for 1905 and 1906”); Lambert,
goldsmiths, silversmiths and jewelers to His Majesty the King; Whitfield’s Safes (“makers to H.M. the King, the Admiralty, the Agent-General for Natal, the Home Office, and the War Office”); Newton & Cook, painting, household, toilet, table, and general brush manufacturers; John K. King
& Sons, the premier house for high-class seeds; Teofani’s cigarettes (“They possess an aroma peculiarly their own”); Alldays & Onions Pneumatic Engineering Co., Ltd., for cars, “perfect examples of British workmanship” (i.e. “standard cars suitable for colonial use”); The
Civil Service Musical Instrument Association, Ltd. (“Pianos specially constructed for extreme and trying climates”); Osram lamps from General
Electric; The Colonial Bank; The London City & Midland Bank; Bank of
Australasia; Chartered Bank of India, Australia and China; Waterlow and Sons
Ltd., engravers and manufacturers of bank notes, postage stamps, share
warrants, and bonds (“The artistic nature of this engraving and the use of special geometric designs in white line has, combined with anti-photographic colours in the printing, successfully resisted all attempts at fraudulent imitation”); Jones, Chalk & Dawson, diplomatic uniforms of all
countries; Nevill’s Charing Cross Turkish Baths (Hmmm: “Gentlemen’s entrance...pronounced to be the finest electric baths in Europe”); Szerelmey Stone Liquid, the
remedy for damp, decay, scaling, chipping and discoloration; Aquascutum Ltd,
overcoat specialists. One gradually forms a picture here of a pretty Government
House somewhere exotic surrounded by beds of azaleas and hollyhocks grown from
King’s seeds, with a clock in the turret from the house of Potts. Dressed by Ede
& Ravenscroft and smoking Teofani’s cigarettes, the governor dictates
instructions to Hickie, Borman & Grant relative to the imminent transfer to
his next post, even while the civil engineers in town grapple with a big order
for Hunslett locomotives, and the mines department is in touch with Hardy’s of
Sheffield to see about getting in more hammer drills. Splendid.
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