Presidency Banknotes of British India
For fifty-five years one Calcutta bank held the sole right to put paper money into Indian hands — and then lost it, on the very day it finally built the branches that might have saved it.
It survived a forger who hid a lakh of rupees inside a wall, a currency that changed its name overnight, and a mutiny that broke out a year after it had already redrawn its notes. Then the Government took the printing press away. This is the story of the Bank of Bengal's paper money, told through the ten designs it issued and the handful of notes that survive — with every claim traced to a book, a journal, a statute, a gazette or an auction catalogue.
Before the Bank of Bengal there were ghosts. Calcutta in the 1770s and 1780s threw up banks the way a monsoon throws up mushrooms, and most of them left nothing behind but a line in a gazette. The General Bank in Bengal and Bahar (1773–75). The General Bank of India (1786). The Bengal Bank. The Carnatic Bank in Madras, 1791, of which Symes Scutt — the Bank of Bengal's own centenary historian — could only write that "barring the simple fact of its existence no details are forthcoming."1
Of roughly thirty-five banks operating in India between 1770 and 1861, only about ten ever issued notes.3 Most vanished so completely that no specimen is known to exist anywhere in the world today. But one of them left a picture — and it is the single most remarkable survival in this whole story.
In 1863 Charles Northcote Cooke, then an officer of the Bank of Bengal itself, published The Rise, Progress, and Present Condition of Banking in India. On his printed page 391 he reproduced, as an engraving, a complete note of the Bengal Bank of Calcutta. It is dated 15 November 1791.
A named payee. A named signatory. A date, a denomination, a serial number, and the exact promise-to-pay wording — for a bank almost nobody has heard of. Das Gupta, writing in 1927, noticed something else in it: the words "Sicca Rupees" indicate "that there were other kinds of rupees also current."3 Hold that thought. It will cost the Bank of Bengal an entire redesign in 1837.
Wikipedia dates the Bengal Bank's dissolution to 31 March 1791 — seven months before the note above was written. One of the two is wrong, and the note is a primary document. Any catalogue entry rendering this piece as "Bank of Bengal, 1791" is also wrong: it is the Bengal Bank, a different institution entirely.
The Bank of Bengal did not begin as a bank of issue. It began, in 1806, as the Bank of Calcutta — and in January 1809 it received the charter that renamed it and gave it the privilege that defines this entire article: the right to issue promissory notes payable to bearer on demand.1
Its early officers matter, because their names went onto the paper. Cooke, who worked in the building, is unusually specific:
"Mr. W. Morton, c. s., whose name appeared on all the old notes of the Bank…"
Cooke 1863, printed p. 96
W. Morton served as Secretary from January 1809 to March 1815. For nearly half a century afterwards, the Bank's notes carried a promise to pay a named individual — and for the earliest issues that individual was Morton himself. The note did not say "pay the bearer". It said, in effect, pay Mr Morton, or bearer. That formula survived until a committee killed it in 1856.
How much paper was out there? The Bank reported one aggregate number, never a breakdown by denomination. But Das Gupta prints a triennial run from 1809, and Cooke and Hübner supply landmarks. The charter capped circulation at two crores of rupees; Cooke says it "seldom exceeded one crore and sixty lacs, except on a recent occasion, when it attained an average maximum of two crores and fifty lacs."2
A bank of one city, one counter, and one signature — issuing paper for a territory the size of Europe.
Before the drama, the object. A Bank of Bengal note is a large piece of hand-made white paper — roughly 15 × 28 cm — carrying a watermark that reads "Bank of Bengal" in English, Bengali, Devanagari and Persian, in four lines inside an ornamented rectangle.15 On it, four languages share the space, because four communities handled the money.
The scripts are worth naming carefully, because the catalogues do not agree with each other and one of them is genuinely unusual:
Nobody recorded the Bank of Bengal's reasoning. But in 1860, on the eve of the Government taking over the note issue, Capt. Thornton published an official explanation of the coming State currency for Indian readers, and it states the design rule outright:
"The Notes will be in the English language, but the amount of Rupees will be expressed in the Hindoostanee language, which is more or less known all over India, and also in the Vernacular dialect of the districts of the circle in which the Note is issued."
Thornton, Exposition of the New Indian Paper Currency, Calcutta: Home Secretariat, 1860, ¶518
A lingua franca everywhere, plus the local vernacular. It is the closest thing to a published rationale that exists for Indian banknote languages — and the Bank of Bengal's panels follow the same logic a half-century early.
One honest caveat. The Reserve Bank of India describes the Bank of Bengal obverse as carrying "Urdu, Bengali and Nagri" — not Kaithi.19 The Kaithi identification comes from the numismatic catalogues. Both cannot be right, and it is worth saying so.
Here is the technique, described in the Bengal Hurkaru of 18 March 1824 and reprinted in the Asiatic Journal. Read it slowly; it is a masterclass.
"One of them, originally genuine, for ten rupees they contrived to circulate for one hundred, by cutting out the former amount which is in german text and substituting the latter; they then in a similar manner changed the Persian and Bengallee characters, and afterwards tore the note and put it together again, by pasting pieces of paper on the back, taking care that the pieces on the back covered the amount they introduced."
Bengal Hurkaru, 18 March 1824, via the Asiatic Journal6
They did not counterfeit a note. They promoted one — surgically excising the value in all three scripts and substituting a bigger one, then deliberately tearing and repairing the paper so the patch had an innocent explanation. A ten-rupee note walked into a shop as a hundred.
It was not an isolated trick. The record, assembled from the Calcutta press of the period:
| Date | What happened |
|---|---|
| India Gazette 7 Dec 1818 | A forgery "to the amount of 500 sicca rupees" — and the forged note was paid into the Bank of Hindostan. Two rival banks' notes circulating interchangeably.6 |
| 1824 | Forgeries on both the Bank of Hindostan and the Bank of Bengal, Rs 100–1,000. Method: the gang "bring over one of the compositors of the government press… who, duly instructed, stole a quantity of types."6 |
| Oriental Observer 11 Mar 1827 | Eighteen arrested. "altering notes of five rupees to 500, one gold mohur to 1,000… principally on the bank of Bengal and Calcutta bank."6 |
| 1834 | Seized: "altered notes of the India Bank (made to resemble Bank of Bengal notes)" together with "a complete set of graving and engine-turning tools." A dead bank's notes, recycled into a living one's.6 |
| Sep–Nov 1837 | Government orders collectors to endorse every Bank of Bengal note. J. A. Dorin — the Bank's own treasurer — objects that it "uselessly spoil[s] the notes" and makes Government liable for forged paper.6 |
| May 1840 | "Vast numbers of forged Bank of Bengal notes are in circulation."6 |
And the Bank's own defences? In 1811 there is a file at the British Library still titled "Papers regarding forgeries of Bank of Bengal notes" that nobody has ever quoted.16 By 1829, under oath in a Calcutta courtroom, a witness let slip what the Bank had not been doing:
"Prior to this the bank of Bengal used not to send notes to be examined; but on witness's return to the office, he found they did so, and paid him 100 rupees per month for the examination."
Supreme Court evidence, Calcutta, 1829 — Asiatic Journal N.S. Vol. 2 (1830)6
Until October 1829, nobody checked. After that, one clerk, privately paid, a hundred rupees a month.
Every retelling of this story on the internet gets it wrong, so let us be exact. Rajkissore Dutt did not forge Bank of Bengal notes. He forged East India Company government promissory notes — "Company's Paper" — and pledged them as collateral for cash loans. The Bank of Bengal was the lender left holding worthless paper.6
The indictment, verbatim: "having forged a government promissory note, No. 588 of 9495 of 1825-26, for 10,000 rupees, and having uttered the same to Mr. E. Macnaghten on the 23d June 1829."6
He founded a bank to do it. The Advocate-General told the court that the India Bank was established "not for commercial speculations, but for the purpose of facilitating the putting away of false Company's paper as security for loans raised… Presses and types were purchased." The printing was done "on Sundays or such days as offices were shut." A man named Bistochunder wrote the Persian, Bengalee and Nagree.6
All quotations: Supreme Court reports, Asiatic Journal N.S. Vol. 2 (May–Aug 1830)6
The money, correctly. The famous "loan of three and a half lakhs" is not a loan. It is the write-off, and the Bank recorded it in its own half-yearly statement after losing on appeal — to the Privy Council, not to the Court of Directors as is usually claimed:
"Sa. Rs. 3,50,000… have been considered bad, in consequence of the decision by the Privy Council… in the case of the forgeries of Rajkissore Dutt."
Bank of Bengal half-yearly statement, Asiatic Journal, Jan–Apr 18356
The same statement contains a line that ought to be famous. The directors "carried to credit, under profit and loss, Sa. Rs. 50,000, on account of old bank notes outstanding for more than fifteen years." Fifty thousand rupees of notes that were never presented — lost, burnt, buried, forgotten — booked as profit.
And Dutt? Transported for life. To Penang — not the Andamans. Five years later the Penang Gazette, via the Bengal Hurkaru of 1 December 1834, reported him "enacting the gentleman in his carriage, and the merchant in his dealings, without let or hindrance," writing home to congratulate himself on "the comfort and liberty he enjoys," having produced "a certificate of ill health, declaring that he could not endure confinement." The paper's verdict: "Transportation to Penang is a farce."6
The best detail comes last, and it comes from his own son. Writing in 1881, Shib Chunder Bose recorded that Dutt
"concealed in a wall of one of the rooms of his house Bank notes for upwards of a Lakh of Rupees. When the search of the Police was over he opened the part of the wall and to his utter disappointment found all the notes crumbled to pieces, and become a small bundle of rotten paper of no earthly use to any one."
Shib Chunder Bose, The Hindoos as They Are (1881), pp. 141–427
In 1835 the Government of India reformed the coinage. The sicca rupee — 173 grains of silver, the coin the Bank had promised to pay since 1809 — gave way to the Company's rupee. Every note in circulation now promised a currency that no longer existed.
The Bank's answer, on 6 July 1837, was not to redraw the note. It was to rewrite it: the promise text changed from "Sicca Rupees" to "Company's Rupees", and in the same act the Bank reduced the note from two signatures to one.
You can see the changeover in the auction record with almost indecent clarity. Across 150 catalogued Bank of Bengal notes in our own database, the word "Sicca" appears in 38 descriptions of Type 6 and in none at all of the Britannia issue; "Company Rupees" appears in seven Type 7 descriptions and in none earlier. And Todywalla's cataloguer, describing a 100-rupee note of 10 January 1842, spells out the physical change: "Denomination changed to read Company Rupees in Devanagari, English and Bengali scripts on the reverse."
The Royal Philatelic Society London holds the surviving records of the firm that cut the Bank's plates. Its Engraving Books show a concentrated campaign of re-cutting the "native character" panels in September–December 1836 — exactly between the coinage reform and the Bank's resolution.
Those entries have been read elsewhere as 1834, and used to argue that the Bank was responding to the forgery gang caught that year. The manuscript pages say otherwise: PB136022 p. 110 is headed 1836 and dated 29 September – 6 October 1836; p. 118 is 19–28 November 1836. It is one 1836 event, and it is about currency, not forgery.13
Who printed India's first banknotes? For a long time the answer was a shrug and the word "England". It is now answerable to the week, because two independent records survive — and, remarkably, because the notes themselves say so.
Turn over a Bank of Bengal note of the 1820s and you find, in an ornamental panel, a Gothic legend and an imprint. CNG's cataloguer transcribes it:
"BENGAL BANK Gothic and Printed by Perkins & Heath, London in top oval and type of Plate in lower oval within an ornamental panel."
CNG, on the 10 Sicca Rupees of 2 December 1824 (J&R 1A.3.3.1) — and two companion lots
The firm's name is a dating tool in itself. The sequence runs Perkins, Fairman & Heath (Dec 1819) → Perkins & Heath → Perkins & Bacon → Perkins, Bacon & Petch (1834) → Perkins Bacon & Co. (1852).12 So an imprint reading "Perkins & Heath" belongs to the 1820s — and any website attributing a pre-1834 Bank of Bengal note to "Perkins, Bacon & Petch" is wrong, because Petch had not yet joined.
The Royal Philatelic Society London holds 17 Engraving Books, 1828–1935, keyword-indexed page by page, with the page images free to view. Book PB136021 is a dated day-by-day log of plates being cut. In the summer of 1830 it reads:13
July 26 — Engrav[in]g … Bank of Bengal. Fifty / 27 — Do. Twenty · Do. Twenty five / July 29 — Engrav[in]g Bank of Bengal. 100 R[upee]s / Aug 6 — Do. 250 R[upee]s / 11 — Engrav[in]g Bank of Bengal 1000 · Do. 500
Perkins Bacon Engraving Book PB136021, p. 27 — 23 July to 13 August 1830
Three weeks; the whole denomination ladder. Earlier pages record "2nd centre die Bank of Bengal" and "Denomination dies Bank of Bengal" (27 April – 13 May 1830), and — for the Bank's rivals — "Water Mark for Hindostan Notes" and "Water marks of the Union Bank notes (numerals)". The same books contain "Bank of Hindostan Native Characters": the multilingual panels of Indian notes were being cut in Fleet Street.
And the firm's own ledgers, transcribed in 1913, record its earliest Indian work — not for the Bank of Bengal: "about April, 1820, a number of plates were made for the Commercial Bank of Calcutta."12
Then, in 1857, the Bank went somewhere else entirely. The Britannia notes carry a different imprint: "Engraver W. H. Lizars, Edinburgh."14 William Home Lizars (1788–1859) was Edinburgh's leading engraver, known for maps, natural-history plates and banknotes for Scottish banks. He died weeks before the latest recorded Bank of Bengal note date of 12 April 1859.
Why the Bank crossed to Edinburgh, nobody has written down. It was not for want of the incumbent: Perkins Bacon was still cutting Bengal note fronts in December 1856 and an unadopted Bank of Bombay design in 1857. The switch was a choice, and it remains one of the genuine unsolved questions in Indian paper money.
Almost nothing in this story has a documented motive. The Bank's own centenary historian explains why, in his Preface:
"In dealing with the incidents of the Bank's History, comment… has been almost entirely refrained from, and the reader is left to form such opinion as he may from the bare record of events."
Symes Scutt, The History of the Bank of Bengal (1904), Preface1
True to his word, Scutt disposes of the greatest redesign in the Bank's history in nine words, in his annal for the year:
"A new form of Bank Note was adopted in this year."
Scutt 1904, printed p. 54
No reason. No engraver. No mention of colour. But the reason survives elsewhere. Amiya Kumar Bagchi, working from the Bank's own minute books for The Evolution of the State Bank of India, records a committee of May 1856 that resolved on a new note — in the phrase that unlocks this whole chapter — "so as to minimize the risk of forgery."5
The May 1856 committee did not just commission a picture. In a single decision it:
Four of the changes visible on the 1857 notes, decided in one room, for one stated reason.
And the colour? The Britannia notes are the Bank's first coloured issue, printed in blue and black. In the very same month — 9 May 1856 — Henry Bradbury told the Royal Institution in London what colour was for:
"In cases where the engraving on a note… is exposed to the reproductive powers of these processes, the Anastatic or the Photographic… then the antidote (at least, that in common use) consists in the adoption of printing in different colours."
Henry Bradbury, On the Security and Manufacture of Bank Notes (1856), p. 258
Bradbury's footnote quotes the photographer Antoine Claudet on which colour: "red, orange, yellow, and green, produce black; while blue, indigo, and violet, produce white." Blue was the colour a camera could not see. The Bank of Bengal printed its new reverses in blue.
The delicious part: Bradbury himself disagreed. On the same page — "My own opinion as to the desirability of adopting printing in colours for Bank Note work is rather to avoid it… Fine-Art with admirable execution possesses far higher elements of security than any combination of colour can confer upon Art." Britain's leading authority on banknote security argued against colour, and Calcutta adopted it anyway. The Reserve Bank of India's own museum states the outcome plainly: the Britannia note "had intricate patterns and multiple colours to deter forgeries."19
It is the most attractive story in Indian paper money, and it is false.
Here is the temptation: in 1857 the Bank of Bengal replaces a mild commercial allegory with Britannia and her lion — imperial, martial, unmistakable — on notes dated 31 August 1857, 17 November 1857, 12 April 1859. The Uprising begins at Meerut on 10 May 1857. The inference writes itself: the Empire, shaken, stamps its authority on the money.
The dates refuse it. The committee resolved in May 1856. The plates were being drawn by December 1856. The Uprising began in May 1857 — a full year later.
The design was on paper before the first cartridge was bitten. Whatever Britannia means on these notes, she is not a response to the Mutiny. Say so in print, because almost nobody does.
Two presidency banks moved to overtly royal or imperial imagery in the same year, 1857, through two different engravers: Britannia at Bengal (Lizars of Edinburgh), and an unadopted Rs 1,000 with Royal Armorial Bearings at Bombay (Perkins Bacon — the proof survives in the British Library's Philatelic Collections as Philatelic 26/1/9/2).16 That pattern argues the impulse sat in the Calcutta and Bombay boardrooms, not in any engraver's shop. It is a pattern, not a proof.
Here is the hinge of the whole story, and it turns on a single upcountry town.
The Bank of Bengal's notes were a Calcutta instrument. Every one of roughly 120 catalogued notes gives the place as Calcutta and nothing else. Brunyate, writing an official memorandum in 1900, confirmed that branch-payable notes were never issued. The Bank had the exclusive right to print India's paper money — and it printed money that was really only good in one city.
It is not that leaving Calcutta never occurred to the Bank. It occurred to it once, twenty years before Mirzapore, and for the wrong reason. When Bombay merchants set about founding a bank of their own in the late 1830s, James Douglas — Sheriff of Bombay, writing in 1899 from the city's newspaper files — compressed the four-year fight into one sentence: "how the great houses of agency frowned upon it; how the Bank of Bengal, strong in the right of primogeniture (1806), viewed its establishment with hostility and threatened to open in Bombay; how the Bengal Government took the same views and imparted them to the Bombay Government; how our Chamber of Commerce remonstrated."29 The threat was competitive, not monetary: a Bombay branch as a weapon against a second bank of issue, floated in a lobbying campaign that failed and never acted on afterwards. The Bank of Bombay opened in April 1840. No Bank of Bengal branch followed it. Twenty years later the Government would take the note issue away precisely because the branches had never been built — and the one place the Bank had once said it would go was the one place a rival went instead.
It tried, once. An agency was opened at Mirzapore. It did not work. And in March 1860, that failure became the argument for taking the note issue away from the Bank altogether.
Wilson's Minute, printed as House of Commons paper HC 1860 (183) on 28 March 1860, argues the entire case for a State paper currency from the Bank of Bengal's own record. He notes that Government notes would be received at district treasuries "as is now done in Bengal in respect to Bank of Bengal notes," and that the reserve "would never (judging from results in the Bank of Bengal) be likely to be in excess of ⅓ of the total issues." And then, decisively:
"The question has several times been considered by the directors of the Bank of Bengal, and on one occasion an agency was actually established at Mirzapoor. But it was not found to answer… the only chance of ensuring an immediate extension of paper currency seems to be by the issue of notes on the part of Government."
James Wilson's Minute, HC 1860 (183)9
Read that again. The Bank lost the printing press because it would not open branches. It had a monopoly on Indian paper money and used it to serve one city, and a Government that wanted paper in every district concluded that the only way to get it was to do the job itself.
The mechanism had been sitting in the Bank's charter all along. Act VI of 1839, section XXXI — the clause that gave the Bank its privilege — reads:
"XXXI. … the said Bank of Bengal may issue Promissory Notes, payable either on demand or at a date not exceeding thirty days after sight… provided always that the total amount of such Notes in circulation at any one time shall not exceed two crores of Rupees, and provided also that no such Note shall be for a smaller amount than ten Rupees."
Act VI of 1839, §XXXI10
Act XIX of 1861 received assent on 16 July 1861. Act IV of 1862 — the Bank's new charter — received assent on 28 February 1862, repealed Act VI of 1839 outright, and re-enacted no note-issue power at all. The repeal ran "from and after the first day of March 1862."
So the Bank of Bengal's last day as an issuer of money was 28 February 1862 — the very day it received the charter that took the right away.
And then comes the twist that no novelist would dare invent. On 1 March 1862 — the first day of the Government's paper currency — the Bank of Bengal opened branches at Mirzapore, Benares, Patna and Dacca, arranged with Government and enumerated in the Parliamentary papers.9
The branches it would not build to circulate its own notes, it built in a single day to distribute somebody else's.
The Bank of Bengal survived. Its rivals mostly did not, and their failures are the backdrop to 1861.
By 1861, of the ten Indian banks that had ever issued notes, the three Presidency banks had the field so completely that when the issue was nationalised, no compensation was even proposed to the others.3
Here is the whole fifty-five years as objects. Ten designs; every image below is a note we hold, photographed by the saleroom that sold it. All quoted descriptions are the cataloguers' own words, not ours — where houses disagree, both readings are given. The line marked the tell is the one feature that separates each design from its neighbours.
Read them in sequence and you watch a document evolve: a blank-backed legal form acquires a picture, then a printed back, then its value on that back, then a new currency name, then typeset serials, then printed dates, then colour — and finally an empire.
It begins with almost nothing. A large sheet of hand-made paper, printed on one side, carrying four languages, a promise, and two signatures. No portrait, no allegory, no picture of any kind — the most valuable object most Calcutta merchants would ever hold, and it looks like a legal form.


The Bank widens its range without touching the design. And the new values tell you how these notes were used: not as round banking amounts but as coin equivalents. Sixteen sicca rupees is one gold mohur. You were not carrying an abstraction; you were carrying a coin you did not have to weigh.
Two changes land at once, and they change what a banknote is. First: a picture. Commerce — a seated allegorical figure surrounded by merchandise — takes the centre. Second, and stranger: the back gets printed for the first time. But it does not carry the value. It carries the printer's imprint. Before the Bank of Bengal thought to print what a note was worth on its reverse, it printed who made it.


A small change with a large implication. The denomination migrates onto the reverse — and it goes there in Bangla, Hindi and Persian, sharing the panel with the printer's imprint. Whoever the back of the note was for, it was not primarily the English reader.


A curiosity, and a linguistically fascinating one. The reverse abandons translation for transliteration: the note does not say “twenty rupees” in Hindi, it says Company ka vees rupeya — the English commercial phrase, spelled phonetically in Devanagari and Bengali. This is how the money was actually spoken about in the bazaar.
The design that is the Bank of Bengal. The reverse finally becomes what a modern eye expects — the value, large, in English, flanked by the vernaculars. Watch one small detail in the obverse description: “manuscript date with printed year”. The year is now set in type while the day is still written by hand. It is the first crack in the hand-made note, and over the next three designs that crack widens until almost nothing is left of the clerk's pen.
The only design change in the whole sequence with a clean, documented, single cause — and it is not aesthetic at all. The currency changed underneath the note. A promise to pay sicca rupees was a promise to pay a coin that no longer existed, so the words had to move. Same picture, same layout, one word different.
Rs 15. Not a banking number — a sovereign number, the rate at which a gold sovereign passed. The Bank's plate ledgers record a Fifteen Rupee plate being cut in May 1841, and because “Fifteen” misread from “Fifty” is the obvious trap, that ledger line had to be checked against the original manuscript. Here is the note itself, settling it. And with it comes the change that matters more: the serial numbers are no longer written by hand.
The last step of a fifty-year process. With serials already typeset, the pre-printed date means that the only handwriting left on the note is the signature — and the signature is the one thing the Bank cut off with scissors when the note came home to be redeemed. Which is why so few complete Bank of Bengal notes exist: by the end, the only human mark on the paper was the one designed to be destroyed.
The finale. Britannia and her lion take the centre — but look closely at the cataloguing and Commerce is still there, demoted to an attendant on the left. The allegory of trade that had carried the Bank's money for thirty years is not evicted; she is made to stand beside the Empire. The Rs 500 goes further still, setting Britannia in a landscape of palms, elephants, ships and temples. And for the first time, the paper is in colour: blue and black, the blue a Victorian photographic camera could not reproduce.
The Bank of Bengal issued paper for fifty-five years, with a circulation that touched two and a half crores of rupees. The total number of Bank of Bengal notes certified by PMG, across all 41 catalogue numbers, is 112.
That is not a typo. One hundred and twelve pieces. And two catalogue numbers hold a third of them.
The reason is not neglect. It is procedure, and the salerooms state it flatly. Notes were cut in half and the halves posted separately, so a thief intercepting one packet got nothing. On redemption the Bank cut out the signature panel and stamped the note CANCELLED. Heritage: "cut cancelled, as is the norm for extant notes from this issuer." Spink: "Generally signature is cut. Notes with uncut signatures are exceedingly rare."
Why halve a banknote at all? Because the post was not safe. Send one half today and the other next week, and a robbed mail bag yields a thief two useless pieces of paper. It worked — and its failure mode has left us two of the most human objects in Indian numismatics.
The letter is legible, and it is worth reading. Headed "Calcutta 22d June 1857", it transcribes (uncertain readings marked):
"…value of 2 Bank of Bengal [notes for Rs 20] each, which were either lost or mislaid, we [beg to in]form you that the missing halves of the said notes have been duly advertised in the Calcutta Gazette under date the 4th March /57 — and in the Exchange Gazette of 14 & 21st idem, and we wait on you with the Revd Gentleman's Bond of Indemnity duly witnessed, and with the remaining halves of the notes in question, and request the favor of your paying the amount, say Rs 40 to the Bearer hereof our Sircar named Colly dass Mittre. We remain, Dear Sir, Yours faithfully, Allan Deff[ell & Co.?]"
Four whole procedures sit in that paragraph. The missing halves had to be advertised in the Calcutta Gazette — the very lost-and-stolen-banknote column that ran in that paper for decades, here with a date, 4 March 1857 — and again in the Exchange Gazette. A clergyman's Bond of Indemnity had to be witnessed and produced. The surviving halves had to be surrendered. And the money went not to the owner but to a named intermediary: the firm's sircar, Colly dass Mittre, who walked to the Bank and collected forty rupees.
Oswal Antiques lot 162 — realised ₹35,000. Transcription ours, from the lot photograph; the signature is most likely the Calcutta agency house Allan, Deffell & Co., but that reading is not certain. Four years and two months separate the notes from the claim.And it was not a one-off. A second archive survives, and it is even better documented — because this time the Bank's own officers wrote back.


Between them, these lots document the entire lifecycle that destroyed the Bank of Bengal's paper: a note is cut in half for safe transit → one half is lost → the holder writes to the Bank → the Bank requires a Bond of Indemnity before paying → the surviving half is cancelled and stamped, and its signature cut out.
Every step in that chain mutilates the object. It is why the highest-graded issued Bank of Bengal note in the world is a PMG 40, and why the only pieces that survive in collectable condition are proofs that never entered circulation at all.
| What survives | Graded | Grades |
|---|---|---|
| 250 Sicca Rupees, Uniface (Pick S20b) | 22 | 4 · 12×4 · 15×6 · 20×6 · 25×2 · 30×2 · 40 |
| 100 Sicca Rupees, Design 6 (Pick S55) | 12 | 6 · 12×2 · 15×7 · 20×2 |
| 10 Rupees Britannia, issued (Pick S90a) | 7 | 10 · 12×3 · 15×2 · 20 |
| 10 Rupees Britannia, proofs (S90p1/p2) | 2 | 62 · 63 |
| 1 Gold Mohur (Pick S24b) | 5 | 10 · 12 · 15 · 20 · 25 |
| 500 Sicca Rupees, Uniface (Pick S25b) | 1 | 30 |
| 1,000 Sicca Rupees, Design 6 (Pick S58b) | 1 | 20 |
Full census: 41 Pick numbers, 112 pieces, from our pmg_population table | ||
Two patterns leap out of that census. First: the highest-graded issued Bank of Bengal note in the world is a single PMG 40. Nothing else reaches 30. Second: every grade above 50 in the entire table is a proof. The Bank's own file copies outlived the notes the public carried — which is precisely what you would expect of money that was cut in half, cut again on redemption, and stamped dead.
Heritage's cataloguer put the rarity in one sentence in December 2025, describing the 1857 Rs 10: "At the time of writing, PMG has graded only seven issued examples and one set of Proofs." Our own population table says S90a = 7, S90p1 = 1, S90p2 = 1. Two independent sources, the same numbers.20
A bank that printed money for a subcontinent, and you could fit every certified survivor into a single cabinet.
| Piece | Sale | Realised |
|---|---|---|
| 10 Rupees 1857, front + back proofs, PMG 62/63 | Heritage 4057/22390, 7 Dec 2025 | $18,600 |
| 500 Rupees essay, 1855 — unadopted, hand-drawn, "in the style of Bank of England white notes" | Spink 23008/113 | £22,000 |
| 25 Rupees uniface proof, blue & black, Lizars imprint | CNG AUC30/664 | ₹9,00,000 |
| 20 Sicca Rupees, uniface front proof, Pick unlisted | Heritage 4025/28404, 18 Sep 2020 | $7,500 |
| 1,000 Sicca Rupees, 6 June 1832, PMG 20 | Todywalla 130/506 | ₹6,00,000 |
| 1 Gold Mohur 1816, serial 53 | CNG AUC33/584 | ₹2,81,000 |
| 10 Sicca Rupees, fancy serial 33333 | Oswal 72/237 | ₹3,00,000 |
| Unissued sola post bill, 18—, Pick unlisted | Noonans, 28 May 2025, lot 1504 | £60 |
Note the last line, and the first. A proof of a note makes $18,600; an unissued post bill of the same bank makes £60 — because the market files one as a banknote and the other as a "bill". The three most valuable objects here never circulated at all: two proofs and an essay that was never adopted. In this series, the paper that failed to become money is worth more than the money.
In 1855 someone sat down and hand-drew an alternative 500-rupee note for the Bank of Bengal, "executed in the style of Bank of England white notes", in a pattern book inscribed "Batho & Bingley". It was never adopted. It sold at Spink for £22,000 against a £3,000–5,000 estimate — the highest price in this entire story.
A fourth name in the design history, alongside Perkins Bacon and Lizars, and one that nobody has yet traced. The pattern book it was cut from is a real object, somewhere.
Almost nobody's, and that is the point — the signature panel was cut out on redemption, so a note that still carries a signature is a rarity worth a multiple. What survives:
| Name | Role | Evidence |
|---|---|---|
| W. Morton, c.s. | Secretary, Jan 1809 – Mar 1815 | Cooke, p. 96: "whose name appeared on all the old notes of the Bank". The payee named in the promise text of the earliest issues.2 |
| H. I. Lee | Accountant | Named by Spink's cataloguer on the 100 Sicca Rupees of 24 April 1834, serial 41629 — "Signed by accountant H. I. Lee and two unknown signatures". One of the very few signed survivors. |
| C. N. Cooke | Accountant from 1853; later Deputy Secretary & Treasurer | The author of the 1863 history this article leans on. If the collector-attested succession Tyler → Henderson → Lee → Cooke holds, the man who signed the Bank's notes wrote its first history. unverified |
| J. A. Dorin | Treasurer of the Bank of Bengal, 1829 | Named in the Dutt trial reports; in 1837 objects to Government endorsement of the Bank's notes.6 |
| Henry Tyler · H. Henderson | First and second Accountants | Collector-attested succession only. unverified |
| Value | Designs | Note |
|---|---|---|
| Rs 10 | 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 | The statutory floor from 1839. The longest-running value. |
| Rs 15 | 8 | Odd, coin-equivalent (the sovereign rate). Plate cut May 1841; abolished by the 1856 committee. |
| Rs 16 | 2, 3 | One gold mohur. A note worth exactly one gold coin. |
| Rs 20 | 5, 6, 7 | Also abolished in 1856. |
| Rs 25 | 6, 7, 8, 10 | |
| Rs 50 | 4, 6, 9, 10 | |
| Rs 100 | 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 10 | The best-surviving Commerce value (12 graded). |
| Rs 250 | 1, 7 | The Uniface flagship. Plate cut 6 Aug 1830 and re-cut in 1836, yet no issued Commerce Rs 250 is known. Abolished 1856. |
| Rs 500 | 2, 3, 7, 10 | The Britannia Rs 500 shows Britannia amid palms, elephants, ships and temples. |
| Rs 1,000 | 6, 8, 9, 10 | The highest value physically recorded. |
| Rs 10,000 | — | Authorised by the 1809 charter and recorded in the plate ledgers, but no example has ever surfaced. A director testified in 1832 that notes ran "from 10 rupees up to 20,000" — a figure no other source supports and which the surviving record flatly contradicts.21 |
An honest article says where the evidence stops. Six things in this story have no documented explanation, and pretending otherwise would be the easiest way to get it wrong.
Everything asserted above comes from one of the following. Where a claim rests on a single source, or on a source that contradicts another, the text says so.
cu31924022945129). Note: A. J.
Tobias printed the book, not the notes — a conflation that appears on several websites.riseprogressand00cookgoog.onsecuritymanufa00brad.jjhc.info/perkinsbaconandco.asiaticjournala33unkngoog); the Bank's half-yearly statement of Jan–Apr
1835 with the Privy Council write-off and the Rs 50,000 of lapsed notes (asiaticjournala38unkngoog);
the 1834 India Bank altered notes; the 1837 Dorin endorsement objection; the May 1840 "vast numbers";
and the Penang Gazette report of Dutt at liberty, via the Bengal Hurkaru of 1 Dec
1834 (N.S. Vol. 17, 1835, p. 93).pjsymes.com.au/articles/PostNotes.htm. Transcribes the Bank of
Bengal post bill and cites the DNW sale of 30 April 2009, lot 722. Also the origin of the term: the
Bank of England's "Sola Bill of Exchange" of October 1728.chi.097199117, Sundry returns: Indian mints & currency, 1846–69.indiacode.nic.in/repealedfileopen?rfilename=<code>.pdf. The annual Acts of the
Legislative Council of India volumes are on archive.org.10213507bsb.wbsl.53.rpsl.org.uk/Quick-Links/Perkins-Bacon-Archive-Keywords-BrowseIOR/F/4/364/9085, "Papers regarding forgeries of Bank of Bengal notes", Jan–Jul 1811;
IOR/F/4/298/6890, circulation of the Calcutta Bank's paper currency, 1808–09;
IOR/V/27/331/5, the printed Charter of the Bank of Bengal (Calcutta: Church
Mission Press, 1834) — digitised nowhere; IOR/Z/E/4/16/F161, "Bank of Bengal Notes and
Post Bills, instructions respecting"; Photo 1081/2(10) and others, the Strand Road
premises; and Philatelic 26/1/9/2, the unadopted Bank of Bombay Rs 1,000 proof of 1857
with Royal Armorial Bearings.MS 937) contains no Bank of Bengal
material and no 19th-century Indian banknote production records at all. The National Archives at Kew
hold Perkins Bacon postage-stamp contracts only. The British Library's "Perkins Bacon Paper
Money Collection" is Bank of Bombay only.rbi.org.in/Scripts/pm_earlyissues.aspx: "Around the mid nineteenth century, the
motif 'Commerce' was replaced by 'Britannia'. The note had intricate patterns and multiple colours to
deter forgeries." Undated and unfootnoted; and its script list ("Urdu, Bengali and Nagri") conflicts
with the catalogues.pmgnotes.com), 41 Bank of Bengal Pick numbers, 112 pieces, with grade breakdowns. Cited
throughout for survival figures, and independently confirming Heritage's published rarity statement for
Pick S90.Every banknote image in this article is one we hold — 220 mirrored image files across 37 Razack & Jhunjhunwalla sub-types, from a corpus of 159 Bank of Bengal records. The design descriptions are quoted from the salerooms that catalogued them, not paraphrased; where two houses describe the same panel differently, both readings are printed.
The photographs of people and buildings are public-domain images from Wikimedia Commons, credited individually. The 1791 Bengal Bank facsimile is cropped at 400 dpi from the scan of Cooke's 1863 book.
Nothing in this article is invented. Where a cause is documented, it is quoted and attributed. Where it is inferred from chronology, the text says "inference". Where it is simply unknown — which is more often than a good story would like — the text says that too.
Bank of Bengal · Calcutta · 1806–1862 · Razack & Jhunjhunwalla group 1A.3 · ten designs · 112 certified survivors