Indian Painting under the Mughals, A.D. 1550 to A.D. 1750 c19: VI. The Meridian (A.D. 1610 to 1625)

Indian Painting under the Mughals, A.D. 1550 to A.D. 1750 c19

Language: English

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VI. The Meridian (A.D. 1610 to 1625)

MUGHAL painting may be considered to have reached its maturity under the Emperor Jahangir. At this point in its evolution it had ceased to copy the pictures of the Persian artists, and it had also learnt to control the dictates of the indigenous mural decorator, taking only what was good from both. In a word, the two arts had become fused into one. Moreover, the painting of this time was not yet impregnated to any serious extent with the art of the West. The period thus indicated, when Mughal painting was independent of these different influences, is a narrow one. It is fairly well defined on its earlier side because it is marked by Jahangir’s personal interest in the subject, the results of which became noticeable about the year 1610. The other limit is, however, less certain. European elements began to assert themselves in many ways during this emperor’s reign, but without any serious effects on the actual character of the art. Probably with Jahangir’s failing health about the year 1625, when the vigour of his supervision declined, the end of the short period of its culmination may be recorded. There was much good work executed both before and after these dates, but the school was undoubtedly at its meridian during these fifteen years. Jahangir’s treatment of the subject differed somewhat from his father’s.

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Much of the work ordered by the latter, as shown in the previous chapter, took the form of illustrations to the Persian and Indian classics, mythical and imaginative compositions, in which the artist’s fancy played an important part. Jahangir, however, believed more in ‘the living present’, and his artists therefore were mainly employed in making realistic pictures of incidents in his daily life. Wherever he went a small staff of court painters accompanied him, ready at all times to put on record any event that pleased their sovereign’s fancy. Of these artists, however, very little is known, and this fact alone shows the difference between the state of the school under Jahangir, compared with its highly organized condition under Akbar. As we have seen, the latter ordered all the painters to be registered, numbered, and ranked with the other officials of the state. Each artist’s name was written by the court clerks on his work, and the whole movement systematized in the most efficient manner. But in Jahangir’s time things were different. The artists’ names were rarely attached to their pictures, and no list of these has been handed down to us. In his exuberance the monarch occasionally refers in his memoirs to some of the more distinguished exponents, and these are really our only guide to the leading artists of his court.

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It seems not unlikely that Jahangir’s freedom in the treatment of the school, his apparent laxity in many ways, may have led to a less restrained and broader development of the art. The painters he specially mentions are Bishandās, Farrukh Beg, Abu’l-Ḥasan, and Mansur, while two others who also executed good pictures which are known to us were Manohar and Govardhan. Additional names may be identified with the art of his time, but this brief list comprises the principal group at the court. These artists were mainly occupied in painting pictures of everyday events which were to form the illustrations to Jahangir’s memoirs. A number of copies of this autobiography were produced—we read of several being presented to different people—and no doubt most of them contained pictures. But there was one standard original, the illustrations of which were designed and executed by the leading artists, and this was kept in the imperial library of the Mughals. The pictures were not bound up with the text, but formed a separate folio or *muraqqa‘*, and from these originals duplicates were made by less accomplished artists as they were required. The emperor’s own copy has been partly destroyed and any pictures that survived have been dispersed, but sufficient are available, supplemented by copies, to reconstruct, pictorially, much of the life of this emperor and the events of his reign.

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A few of the original pictures, the majority of them unfortunately seriously abraded, have found their way into the Rampur State Library, and from these several of the less damaged have been selected, which will now be described.

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Of all the pictures in this collection none is more typical of the period and of the school than that of the court function reproduced in the frontispiece. Jahangir, ever punctilious in observing the ancient ceremonies and festivals of his house, records in his memoirs that on a date about the middle of July 1614 ‘the assembly of *Gulāb-pāshī* (sprinkling of rose-water) took place; from former times this has been known as *āb-pāshī* (water sprinkling), and has become established from amongst customs of former days’.¹ In such words he refers to an annual festival held in Persia in memory of rain which fell on the 13th day of Tir, and put an end to a severe famine still recollected by the people of that country. Govardhan, the painter, was commissioned to make a picture of the assembly, which is here reproduced. Only a few works by this artist are known, although those which have survived show that he was a man of ability; a painting in the *Bāburnāma* in the British Museum proves that he served under Akbar as well as Jahangir. The inscription on the picture is substantially identical with that written in the memoirs, and the date on the lower part denotes that it was the fifth day of *Amurdād*, which corresponds to the middle of July. In different parts of the picture attendants are seen scattering rose-water (*gul-āb*) from small bottles over the assembly, while at the back of the emperor are a number of minor officials, such as the fly-whisk holder, the gun-carrier, the court musician, and the sword-bearer. In front, paying their respects to his majesty, are the highest officials of the crown, one of whom is offering a *mā’ ul-lahm*, or preparation of almonds, while behind him is a servant with a tray containing a further supply of comestibles. Below is a small band of musicians, some playing instruments, others singing and beating time by clapping their hands. At the bottom of the picture is the *bhisti*, or water-carrier, with his water-skin on his back, and testing the temperature of its contents by sprinkling a little on his finger. Immediately at his rear is a person dressed in white, intent on making notes of the proceedings in a book. This is a clerk (*munshi*), or court reporter, of whom Terry, Roe's chaplain, writes, ‘when the King sits and speaks to any of his people publickly, there is not a word falls from him that is not written by some scriveners, or scribes, that stand around him’. Had the court artist, Govardhan, included himself in his picture—and there is no doubt that he was present at the ceremony—he would have occupied a similar position to that of the scribe, and would be recording his impressions with a brush, or making ‘thumbnail’ sketches, in much the same way. This miniature has much to interest us, as it is a truthful representation of the time, which was an intensely picturesque one. The costumes and the *mise-en-scène* are expressive of a brilliant, though somewhat barbaric, court, for the insistent musical accompaniment which was always present must have added a suggestion of wildness to the whole.

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¹ Jahangir, vol. i, p. 265.

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If one were asked what was the dominant note of this picture, the answer would most probably be its sense of vitality; it conveys at once a feeling of life and movement, and throbs with energy and emotion. While much of this is the result of the painter's own skill and vision, he was aided not a little in securing it by the particular manner in which he recorded what he saw. A brief analysis of his method of execution will explain. As a whole the composition resolves itself into one of sharply defined colour-contrasts; there is no blending or grading of forms, but it is a combination of flat areas of local colour coming directly into contact with one another. Further, these separate areas of colour are bounded by distinct contours, which, in much of the picture, are emphasized by an outline. Such, broadly, was the general plan on which most of the Mughal miniatures of the period were produced, and as a decorative colour-scheme it has great merit. The Mughal painters were by no means the originators of this method of effect. It is seen in most schools of pictorial art, especially in the beginning, as for instance all European painting up to the time of Titian. The early Flemings employed it, and many, though not all, of the primitive Italians, while of course it was a striking feature in the portraiture of Holbein, notably in his less mature period. The Mughal artist was striving after brilliancy and animation, his subject demanded both, and undoubtedly his method of obtaining what he required was the most ideal one. Such a means has been referred to as a primitive expedient, a convention, and not a natural form of representation; that to detach figures from their surroundings by means of a definite contour is not according to nature. This is no doubt true, but in the hands of the Mughal painter it certainly produced the desired result. The same effect is visible in the applied arts of stained glass and enamel, where the colours are kept separate by metal outlines, and the lustre and vigour of these is their main charm. It cannot be denied that the Mughal artist has caught the essential spirit of his subject, its riot of inspiring colour combined with much sensuousness, the hot oppressive atmosphere heavily laden with scent, the sound of the cymbals and the drums, the singing and clapping of hands.

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While colour is the outstanding feature of this miniature, the outline that defines it calls for description. Much of the expression in this line is due to its calligraphic character, denoting at once its connexion with the long, firm, flowing sweep of the Arabic script brought to India by the Mughals. In this lies its main contrast with the painting of the Rājput school. The latter is also an art of outline, but not in any sense a calligraphic one, for the indigenous style of painting borrowed nothing from the handiwork of the writer; a glance at the square, almost crabbed, Hindi characters in use all over Northern India will explain this. In comparing Rājput outline drawing with that of the Mughals, it might be said that the fine

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PICTURE OF A PROCESSION 129

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sensitive outline of the former is that of Blake, while the modulated contour of the latter is that of Holbein. It is not difficult to see whence the Mughal art obtained this calligraphic quality. As we have already stated, in China, Persia, and Mughal India the skilled writer was considered superior to the painter. Both craftsmen in China worked with the brush. But Persia, which took its outline from China, wrote with the reed-pen, and the difference in the implement employed explains the difference in the character of each country’s line. When this line travelled to India after a time it shed still more of its calligraphic expression. It lost much of it in the hands of the Indian craftsmen to whom the art of calligraphy had little meaning. While, therefore, the painting of the Mughal school shows clear traces of this affinity with the script that accompanied it, when the art had reached its maturity the calligraphic outline became less emphatic and ceased to be an outstanding feature as in the painting of Persia and the Far East.

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From this picture of an interior scene of Jahangir’s durbar we may turn to an opposite effect of an exterior, shown on Plate XXXI, a miniature bearing a name which may be read as Manohar. The work of this artist may be studied in several of the books illustrated during Akbar’s reign, so that he was a man of some repute when Jahangir came to the throne. The picture, evidently one of a series representing the celebrations that took place at the coronation of the last-named emperor, portrays a procession in which the state elephants bearing the royal standard play a leading part. Roe, who saw many such pageants, describes these particular animals as ‘being Lord Elephants, (who) had their chaynes, belles, and furniture of Gould and siluer, attended with many gilt banners and flagges . . . the first having all the plates on his head and breast sett with rubyes and Emeraldes, beeing a beast of a woonderfull stature and beauty. They all bowed downe befor the king, making reuerence very handsomely.’ The two elephants here depicted marching in the place of honour in the procession are the *nishān kā hathī*, or standard bearers, one carrying Jahangir’s personal ensign of the lion and the sun, derived from a Persian source, the other an imperial banner emblazoned with a phoenix and a dragon of Far Eastern design. The latter was obviously obtained direct from China, as it contains the *Ssu ling* or ‘Four Divine Animals’;

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on the reverse of it would be the other two creatures of the series, the tiger and the unicorn. On the backs of the elephants are two richly diapered coverings which may also have been produced by Chinese looms, all of which shows that the Mughals had no little admiration for the arts of the Far East, and used examples of them in their regalia. Flanking the elephants are two groups of mounted musicians energetically blowing on their trumpets, *turhī* and *nafīrī*, or beating the drums, *naqāra*. In front of these is a line of *jhandī-bardārs* bearing gaily coloured pennons or *shān-o-shaukat*, and with them are several *bandūqchīs* who are carrying guns wrapped in brocaded coverings. Behind the elephants are more musicians, one group of men, the other of women, all playing instruments or vigorously singing and beating time. In the upper group, called *kalāvat* or *gavayyā*, which is a mixed assembly of Hindus and Muhammadans, two men will be observed with stringed instruments like large mandolins, known as *sarūd*. The elder of these two performers has been identified as Tansen, the most skilled musician at the Mughal court, and one whose fame as a singer lives to this day. The younger performer below is Shauqi, who afterwards took the place of Tansen, and of whom Jahangir writes that he is ‘the wonder of the age’ and sings ‘in a manner that clears the rust from all hearts’.

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Some of the other members of the band are playing on the *kamāncha*, a stringed instrument, with a small bow, while the remainder are keeping time by means of the *tālī*, or clapping of hands. In front of the younger *sarūd*-player is a man with folded arms and a paper in his hand. He is the court poet, probably Manohar Sekhawat Kachhwaha, son of Raja Lonkaran, a Hindu who had studied Persian and wrote verses in this language. During a halt in the proceedings he will recite a poem in praise of the emperor, that he has composed for the occasion. The women musicians, called *bāndī*, are also proclaiming the magnificence of the monarch in song accompanied with the drum, *dholak*, and tambourine, *duff*. With them will be noticed two male drummers, who are their *ustāds* or instructors. The direction in which the procession is moving is at first sight not clear, as some portions of it are facing one way and others another. It is, however, progressing across the picture from right to left, but the musicians are walking slowly backwards, so that the monarch, before whom they are passing, may get the full benefit of their performance. Its order and pace are regulated by the *chharī-bardār*, or master of the ceremonies, who will be seen at the top of the picture carrying out his duty in an active manner.

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At his side is a small but very interesting group of buffoons, who supply the comic element in the proceedings, performing extravagant dances and burlesquing everybody from the highest officials downwards. They are known as *bandahs*, and are generally Muhammadans, while their mimicry is called *swāng*. Right at the back of these is the usual crowd of menial servants, cautiously approaching to view the *tamāshā*, the Roman world, and the most important events of the reign of Antoninus Pius, are related by his biographer, and the reader will not be sorry to find them here in a more concise form. The reign of Antoninus Pius is marked by the rare advantage of furnishing very few materials for history; which is only another mode of saying that its happiness was complete. During the twenty-three years of his administration, the Roman empire was governed by the same invariable maxims of justice and peace. The natives of a vast extent of country were protected by the same laws, and enjoyed the same privileges. The frontiers were defended by the same legions, and the same spirit of moderation and equity prevailed in the councils of the emperor. The death of Antoninus was lamented as a public calamity; and the memory of his virtues was preserved by the gratitude of his subjects, and the imitation of his successor.

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The reign of Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, which followed, was a period of great activity and of great events. The empire was attacked on all sides by the barbarians, and the emperor was obliged to spend the greater part of his life in the camp. He was a man of a mild and philosophical temper, and he would have preferred the quiet of the study to the tumult of the field. But he was a prince of a high sense of duty, and he did not shrink from the task which was imposed upon him. He defended the frontiers with vigour, and he defeated the enemies of Rome in many a hard-fought battle. His death was a loss to the empire, and it was felt by all classes of his subjects. He was the last of the good emperors, and with him the golden age of the Roman empire may be said to have terminated.

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The character of the Roman government, under the Antonines, was that of a mild and paternal despotism. The emperor was the source of all power, and his will was the law of the land. But he was restrained by the influence of the senate, and by the force of public opinion. The senate was still a body of great dignity and importance, and its members were the principal officers of the state. The emperor was careful to consult them on all matters of importance, and he was always ready to listen to their advice. The public opinion was also a powerful check upon the actions of the emperor. The people of Rome were still a proud and independent race, and they were not afraid to express their dissatisfaction with the measures of the government. The emperor was aware of this, and he was always careful to avoid any act that would be likely to give offence to the people.

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The administration of justice was one of the most important duties of the emperor. He was the supreme judge of the empire, and he was always ready to hear the complaints of his subjects. He was assisted by a council of jurists, who were the most learned men of the age. The laws were administered with impartiality, and the rights of the citizens were protected. The taxes were moderate, and they were collected with fairness. The public works were carried on with vigour, and the cities of the empire were adorned with magnificent buildings. The trade and commerce of the empire were encouraged, and the people were prosperous and happy. The Roman empire, under the Antonines, was a model of good government, and it was the envy of the world.

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at first from a reasonable distance, but in their eagerness they will soon invade the processional route, to be driven back by the stick of the *chhari-bardār*.

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The attractions of this picture lie not in the general effect, which is somewhat confusing, but in the treatment of some of the groups, and particularly in the portraits of one or two of the individuals. As in the previous miniature, it is the spirit of vitality which is its main charm, and not a little of this is brought about by the natural and spontaneous action of the figures. What could be more expressive of energy than the mounted trumpeter with the red turban at the top of the picture, putting his whole soul into his performance, as if he felt that the eyes of the emperor were specially directed on him. Compare his vigorous pose with the stately step of the sword and banner bearers, or the scarcely suppressed excitement among the musicians in their effort to keep time among themselves and with the rest of the procession. But for an example of Mughal figure-painting at its best the trumpeter riding on the horse immediately below the elephant may be selected. A slightly enlarged reproduction of this figure is illustrated on Plate XLI, Fig. 2, and will show how the Indian painter could rise almost to the heights attained by Holbein in some of his character studies. The drawing, modelling, and expression of the face are exceptionally well rendered, while the colouring is equally meritorious.

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In the other two mounted musicians the artist has not been quite so successful in his portraiture, but that he has caught the sense of action, as shown for instance in the feeling of movement in the fingers of the instrumentalists, cannot be denied. In many other portions of this picture the same conscientious attention to detail is displayed, although as a whole the composition is not exactly arresting. Both groups of figures walking out of, or looking out of, each side of the picture may account for some of this, but it is most probably explained by the artist having quite ingenuously put on his paper the ceremony just as he saw it. Nevertheless, in the more formal subjects of his selection the Mughal artist had an eye to composition, which may be noticed in his interior effects, as for instance in his arrangement of court scenes. He fully realized the value of an architectural feature as the basis of his design, and made use of it in the following manner. Beginning with the emperor on his throne more or less in the centre, he placed a series of buildings in retreating planes in the background, which he balanced with a corresponding succession of terraces and platforms in the foreground. The right-angled lines predominating in such an arrangement harmonized with the right angles of his picture as a whole, and, while such a method is well known among designers as a simple device, it was, in the hands of the Mughal painter, also the most pleasing.

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After the artist had introduced into his picture the main constructional lines indicated above, it was not difficult to group about these the figures which formed the living element in the subject. One type of architectural setting, frequently observed in the earlier pictures, shows a palace in which both the exterior and interior are visible at the same time, a kind of isometric projection, the spectator being elevated so that he looks over the retaining wall into the courtyard with the emperor seated in a pavilion in the centre. Outside this wall are the servants and attendants, while always in the foreground in one corner is a doorway with a bearded doorkeeper on guard. An example of this conventional scheme may be studied on Plate XI; it is, however, a traditional composition, inherited from the Persian master Bihzad, and employed by him in several of his pictures. In these architectural compositions, exception may be taken to their excessive formality, but in all art the Mughal specially admired symmetry even of the most severe order; in his buildings, in his gardens, and, as we see, in his pictures, every element was balanced by another element which constituted its *jawāb*, or ‘answer’, and to bring about this balance was the artist’s principal aim.

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In those pictures where the use of the architectural setting was denied him, the Mughal painter often relied on an elliptical arrangement, the principal figure or object being more or less central, while the secondary elements are grouped around following the lines of an oval. An example of this may be seen in the frontispiece, where the emperor is in the middle while his officials and attendants form an irregular ovoid shape around him; such a scheme is particularly noticeable in the picture of the lion hunt shown on Plate XLII, which is a record of an actual experience, and is fully described by Jahangir in his memoirs. All translations of this work, however, erroneously state that the animal of this adventure was a tiger, while the picture proves conclusively that it was a lion. Lions are now extinct in India, except for a few maneless specimens preserved in Kathiawar, but in the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries they were so numerous as to be a source of great danger to all those travelling in Hindustan. It is related that Jahangir and his courtiers used to ride these beasts down, and kill them ‘with their bows and carbines and launces’.¹ In all the *shikār* scenes of the Mughals the lion is represented as the animal of their choice, pictures of tigers being extremely rare. In referring to the incident of this miniature Jahangir writes:

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¹ Terry, pp. 182, 184, 403.

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The Emperor Jahangir shoots a large lion (*Memoirs*, vol. ii, p. 284) ; painted *c.* A.D. 1623 Indian Museum, Calcutta, No. 316 ; size 12¼" × 7¼".

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the Roman world, and the most important events of the reign of Antoninus Pius, are related by his biographer, and the reader will not be sorry to find them here in a more concise form. The reign of Antoninus Pius is marked by the rare advantage of furnishing very few materials for history; which is only another mode of saying that its happiness was complete. During the twenty-three years of his administration, the Roman empire was governed by the same invariable maxims of justice and peace. The natives of a vast extent of country were protected by the same laws, and enjoyed the same privileges. The frontiers were defended by the same legions, and the same spirit of moderation and equity prevailed in the councils of the emperor. The death of Antoninus was lamented as a public calamity; and the memory of his virtues was preserved by the gratitude of his subjects, and the imitation of his successor.

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on the 10th of the month of Dai, in the neighbourhood of the pargana of Rahimabad (in the Bari Doab) the huntsmen brought in news of a lion. I ordered Iradat Khan and Firdai Khan to take with them some of the guards and surround the wood, and mounting an elephant I followed them and went towards the hunt. From the number of trees and thickness of the jungle it could not well be seen. Driving the elephant forward, the lion's flank came into view, and with one wound from my gun he fell and gave up his life. Of all the lions I have shot from the time I was a prince until now I never saw a lion like this for size and majesty and the symmetry of its limbs. I ordered the artists to take its portrait according to its real form and body.¹

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¹ Jahangir, vol. ii, p. 284.

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It is evident, however, that the artists not only made a study of the dead animal, but also a painting of the incident described above, just at the critical moment when the lion rolled over with the emperor's bullet in its brain. As will be seen from the illustration, it is an exceedingly graphic production, and the court painter responsible for it seems to have entered fully into the spirit of the scene. In the distance is the rocky ground overgrown with the close shrub which concealed the lion until it came out to its death. Standing near and evincing every sign of excitement and gratification at the result of the shot are the *shikāris*, Iradat and Firdai, engaged in explaining to their royal master how and where the fatal shot took effect. All the persons in this picture are clearly portraits, even to the beaters with their staves and sticks in the foreground, while the elephants are undoubtedly the actual animals from the royal stables who took part in the event. Jahangir, whose elation at his own skill is apparent, is seen turning towards his suite, who have followed him on horseback, and are voicing their congratulations with no little liveliness. At his side, on an elephant that is being goaded reluctantly to face the dying animal, is the head *shikāri*, who is complimenting his master in the usual fashion by means of an emphatic *salaam*. But one of the best drawn features of the picture is the lion, the death throes as the beast rolls over being very realistically rendered—it seems as if the artist had actually seen this taking place and put it down exactly as it appeared to him. The bullet has struck the animal in the head, as one of the *shikāris* on foot excitedly explains, and in its agony it claws the wound before it expires. In its general composition the picture is uncommon, as there is considerable extent of open space in the centre, but the grouping of the figures follows the general line of an oval, with the principal actors, the emperor and the lion, inclining towards the centre.

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Another hunting scene, but of a much more thrilling nature, is illustrated on Plate XLIII. Jahangir refers to it as an adventure which happened to him when he was a prince, and it appears to have left a vivid impression on his mind.¹ Several pictures, varying in detail and all relating to the same incident, have survived, but this is one of the most realistic. The expression on the face of the *mahout* as he crouches on the neck of the elephant to escape the lion’s claws, and the incontinent manner in which the gun-bearer is leaving the howdah at the back, have been most cleverly portrayed. Plate XLIV depicts a picture of a very different kind, although it is of the chase. It has no specific title, but shows in the dead of night three hunters dressed in robes of greens and browns, and their heads covered with leaves, approaching the feeding grounds of the deer. As they cautiously draw near the game one of them tinkles a little bell and reflects a strong light from a curiously shaped lantern into their faces. The deer, fascinated or held spellbound by the unusual display, are seen falling an easy prey to the arrow of the hunter. It is a very beautiful conception in a scheme of low-toned colours with one strong note, the bright golden light from the lamp in the centre. Around is darkness, but relieved by various incidents carefully thought out and happily introduced. In the foreground two buffaloes are aroused by the noise, while near them are water birds roosting on a little pool covered with water-lilies; a *sādhū* dozing in front of his grass hut with his dog occupies the middle distance, and out of the gloom peers a straggling village silently sleeping at the foot of the hills. In the majority of these pictures of outdoor subjects the treatment of the landscape is instructive. Jahangir had a fondness for beautiful views, about which he often discourses in poetical language. Inspired by his example the court painters rose to considerable heights in their efforts to depict, truthfully and artistically, landscape effects in the backgrounds of their pictures. One of the best examples may be studied in a picture in the Rampur collection (Plate XIX), unfortunately almost too damaged for effective reproduction. The incident it depicts is fully described in the memoirs²—a fight between a snake and a huge spider (probably a land crab), which the emperor saw while on his way from Kabul in 1607. In its drawing and modelling the rocky scenery in the background of this miniature is very fine, the colouring also is exquisitely delicate, while the sense of aerial perspective is immediately felt in the planes of atmospheric blues and greys of the distance. Another attempt at landscape, but in a more romantic mood, may be studied on Plate XX, the details of the upper part of which are XLIV. Shooting deer at night; painted c. A.D. 1630; Bodleian Library, Oxford.

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¹ Jahangir, vol. ii, p. 270.

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² Jahangir, vol. i, p. 117.

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XLIII. Narrow escape of the Emperor Jahangir while shooting a lion (Memoirs, vol. ii, p. 270) Painted c. A.D. 1623; Indian Museum, Calcutta, No. 188; size 10½" × 7¼".

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reminiscent of some of the illuminations in the early fifteenth-century manuscripts of the English school. The picture records the entry of Jahangir into the city of Ajmir in 1613, and his visit to the shrine and tomb of Khwaja Mu‘in ud-din Chishti, the patron saint of Akbar and his descendants. Jahangir relates how he walked the road to the ‘venerated mausoleum’ on foot, all along ‘giving money to faqirs and the necessitous’. He also bestowed favours on those that were ‘brought before me, that they might be made happy with numerous gifts according to their real circumstances’.¹ The artist has included all these incidents: Jahangir and his young son are seen reverently approaching the tomb, while, below, alms to the poor and presents to the attendants are being distributed.

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¹ Jahangir, vol. i, p. 253.

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It may be contended that, although the Mughal painter showed considerable feeling for aerial perspective, his knowledge of this science in its linear aspect leaves something to be desired. The picture last described is an illustration of the difficulties he encountered in representing architecture, and buildings generally, according to his own indigenous interpretation of receding lines and planes. A study of the art of the East demonstrates that the oriental had his own system of perspective, just as he had his own ideas on chiaroscuro. In both these aspects of his work, however, the oriental artist was in complete accord with his oriental spectator; they understood one another thoroughly, because they were in communication with one another by means of the same pictorial language. Perspective and chiaroscuro corresponded to the grammar of that language, the artist told his story in his own tongue, and it was fully comprehended by those of his own kind to whom it was addressed. To represent ‘on the flat’ a subject of many complicated planes any expedient may be adopted by the artist so long as it is intelligible to the spectator, and accepted by him in the same spirit. In the West the artist obtains his perspective by scientific methods and his chiaroscuro by high lights and cast shadows. The oriental preferred to translate perspective effects by the artistic method rather than the scientific, and avoided the difficulty of representing shadows by leaving them out altogether. As long as the result is a work of art and appreciated as such by those to whom it appeals, any form of convention may be employed by the painter in his endeavour to give suitable expression to his artistic feelings. That the Mughal artist could on occasion make use of perspective in a very able manner is proved by Plate XLV, Fig. 1, which shows a portion of a miniature dating from later than Jahangir’s reign, where a group of cavalry is seen descending a steep incline. Any artist who could willingly undertake such a difficult subject is worthy of our admiration, and that he has succeeded in his task there is no shadow of doubt. The fidgety sideways motion of the two leading horses as they find themselves on the edge of the slope, and the caution expressed in the backs of the two in the rear, not to mention the sense of foreshortening in the drawing of both horses and riders, are unusually well rendered.

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Plate XLVI is a picture of the celebrations held at the Mughal court on the occasion of the marriage of Prince Khurram, who was ultimately to succeed Jahangir as the Emperor Shah Jahan. The miniature has been much damaged, but enough remains to show the scheme of rich colour that was employed by the artist when he was required to immortalize these splendid ceremonies. It depicts the usual elephant procession, similar in subject to that on Plate XXXI, but with even more musical accompaniment. In the upper part of the picture are five *amirs*, or nobles, richly dressed and standing respectfully with their maces or staffs of office on their shoulders. Below is a group of five male singers beating time with their hands, and behind them a chorus of women vocalists; the latter may be studied to better advantage in the enlarged reproduction on Plate XLVII. At the bottom on the right are several instrumentalists, preceded by a boy in white, beating time, who is reproduced alone to a larger scale on Plate XLVIII. Attendants bearing banners and the state elephants just arriving in the picture complete this part of the scene, but right at the top is an animated *motif*, the imperial band performing in what corresponds in Gothic architecture to the minstrels' gallery, which cannot be better described than in Bernier's own words:

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Over the grand gate, situated in the middle of one side of this court, is a capacious divan, quite open on the side of the court, called the Nagar-Kanay. In this place, which thence derives its name, are kept the trumpets, or rather the hautboys and symbals, which play in concert at certain hours of the day and night. To the ears of a *European* recently arrived, this music sounds very strangely, for there are ten or twelve hautboys, and as many symbals, which play together. One of the hautboys, called *karna*, is a fathom and a half in length, and its lower aperture cannot be less than a foot. The symbals of brass or iron are some of them at least a fathom in diameter. You may judge, therefore, of the roaring sound which issues from the *Nagar-Kanay*. On my first arrival it stunned me so as to be insupportable; but such is the power of habit that this same noise is now heard by me with pleasure; in the night, particularly, when in bed and afar, on my terrace this music sounds in my ears as solemn, grand, and melodious. This is not altogether to be wondered at, since it is played by persons instructed from infancy in the rules of melody,

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XLVI. Celebrations at the marriage of Prince Khurram, A.D. 1610 Indian Museum, Calcutta, No. 456; size 10" x 15".

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and possessing the skill of modulating and turning the harsh sounds of the hautboy and symbal so as to produce a symphony far from disagreeable when heard at a certain distance. The *Nagar-Kanay* is placed in an elevated situation, and remote from the royal apartments, that the king may not be annoyed by the proximity of this music.

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Aided by the French physician’s contemporary account, and with this picture before us, it is not difficult to travel back over the three centuries which separate us from the Mughal time and feel ourselves present at one of these ceremonies with its strident musical accompaniment.

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A miniature painting typical of the art during Jahangir’s reign is shown on Plate XLIX, and depicts an incident, recorded in the memoirs, which took place in the Mandakar garden near Agra in the year 1609. Towards the bottom left corner of the picture a young man is standing with hands crossed and showing every sign of being overcome with shame. He is Kaukab, the son of Qamar Khan, and has been discovered consorting with very undesirable people—in the actual words of the emperor, ‘blasphemous and impious’ companions. As the culprit’s father, and his grandfather Mir Abdul Latif, were Saifi Sayyids, and respected officials at the Mughal court, Kaukab’s fall from grace was all the more reprehensible. Near him will be noticed two strange figures wearing caps surmounted with horns and long ears who are described as ‘Abdul Latif, son of Naqib Khan and Sharif, his cousins, partners in that error’. Into the whole affair Jahangir, who is shown listening attentively with a very shocked expression, makes careful inquiries and finally passes judgement. It is clear from their countenances that all those present are much impressed by the proceedings, while one man immediately at the back of the emperor, with a look of tragedy on his face, is turning right away from the scene, as if the sight of it repelled him. This is the father of Kaukab, who, realizing his son is disgraced, turns his back on him and throws up his hands with a gesture of despair. The punishment for all three delinquents was imprisonment and a hundred lashes in the emperor’s presence, but even this did not act as a permanent deterrent to the chief offender Kaukab. For eight years afterwards he is again in the same trouble for having ‘put on a faqir’s dress and gone into the wilds’, so that he is evidently an incorrigible young man. However, on the second occasion Jahangir was more lenient and after a strict cross-examination he forgave him and allowed him to go his own way. Another remarkable picture executed to the order of Jahangir is the well-known one in the Bodleian Library commonly referred to as the ‘Dying Man’, and shown on Plate L. Other copies of this subject are known, but the one at Oxford is the best. It depicts one Inayat Khan, an ‘ intimate attendant ’ of the emperor lying on his death-bed some time in the year 1618, a full account of which is given in the memoirs.¹ The manner in which Jahangir minutely describes every detail of the symptoms of this victim to the opium habit, finishing up with a verse of poetry and an order to the ‘ painters to take his portrait ’, shows the workings of a somewhat morbid mind. Certainly the artist entrusted with the gruesome commission did his work most thoroughly, the glazed staring eyeballs and the emaciated body plainly indicate that the drug had done its worst, and, as the royal writer concludes his homily on the man and his sad condition, ‘ next day he travelled the road of non-existence ’.

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¹ Jahangir, vol. ii, pp. 43, 44.

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But no subject, however unusual, was considered outside the range of the Mughal painter’s art, as any survey of the miniatures of the time will speedily prove. At one period pictures of priests and religious mendicants were much in vogue, of which Plate LI is an excellent example. This painting has been much damaged, and also clumsily restored, but enough remains to make an interesting illustration. It is a night scene, and most of the light on the faces of those engaged in what appears to be a religious discussion is thrown from a candle in the foreground. A picture of a group of religious mendicants seated under trees by the wayside is shown on Plate LII ; it is remarkable for its figure-drawings and the expression on the faces of some of these wandering *sādhūs*. Representations of the female form, or at least good examples of it, are not a pronounced feature of Mughal painting, for reasons which will be explained in the chapter on portraiture. Such reasons apply mainly, however, to the likenesses of the higher-class women ; of the ordinary musicians and similar female performers at the court functions, there are several good drawings, as for instance the group on Plate XLVII. To show that the Mughal artist could on occasion rise to great heights in this little-touched field, the picture of the two girls dancing, on Plate LVII, Fig. 1, is introduced. They are performing a movement called the *cha-cha*, or see-saw, in the course of which they hold hands in the manner shown and circulate eight times. It is said to have been originally a Hindu dance but taken over by the Mughals ; the artist will see in this picture something that reminds him of the rhythm of the female figures on an early Greek vase.

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Animals and birds figure prominently in the painting of the Mughals, especially during the reign of Jahangir, as this emperor XLVIII. Fig. I.

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XLVII. Portion of Plate XLVI; chorus of women singers.

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Figure of a boy, from Plate XLVI.

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A man writing; painted c. A.D. 1630 Collection of Baron Maurice Rothschild.

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XLVIII. Fig. 2.

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was personally interested in their appearance and habits. His memoirs contain constant references to his study of any unusual species, and in rare birds he took a keen delight. Of these he frequently ordered his artists to make paintings, and of some we have descriptions and pictures combined. There is the now well-known one of the turkey-cock on Plate LIII, an account of which occupies two pages of the memoirs, including the circumstances by which the emperor became possessed of this bird, hitherto unknown in India. And apart from the picture of the turkey itself we have also a miniature of the occasion in the year 1612 on which it was brought to the court by a faithful emissary of the name of Muqarrab Khan.¹ It is to be regretted that the picture of this durbar scene is too obliterated to be reproduced, for it makes an attractive composition. Muqarrab had brought a collection of curiosities from Goa, where he had been sent by Jahangir, exactly as Akbar had sent his own agent some years previously for a similar purpose. On his return the emperor received him at one of his midnight séances, as the moon is visible showing through a murky sky, and lighted candelabra are much in evidence. Jahangir is seated in his *jharokā* (window seat), and the emissary is shown making a low obeisance before him; below is a large table, or stand, on which it is possible to discern the ‘rareties’, consisting of the turkey-cock and hen and also a ‘monkey of a strange and wonderful form’. The painter of this miniature has not been identified, but there is little doubt that the artist responsible for the companion picture, that of the turkey on Plate LIII, was the famous animal painter Mansur. It seems that Jahangir had a number of pictures of this kind prepared, representations of living creatures all similarly embellished and bound up in one volume, for there are fragments of this work still in existence. And he no doubt did the same with Mansur’s studies of the flowers of Kashmir, to which reference has been already made. If the picture of the turkey-cock is an example of what these works of art were like, such volumes must have been sumptuous records, and important additions to the imperial library. It is difficult to imagine a more brilliant effect than the miniature here reproduced, particularly in the galaxy of colour in the border; as a whole this picture in its richness has probably rarely been excelled in any branch of oriental graphic art. We see in these borders, conventionalized and outlined with gold, the flowers of the tulip, poppy, strawberry, guelder rose, jonquil, lily, iris, and marguerite, all fairly common plants and shrubs but few of which are indigenous to Hindustan. Most of them are natives of Kashmir, while some are drawn from a still more distant source, the motherland of the Mughals, Farghana, watered by the Gir, with its ‘ beautiful gardens of Usk gay with violets, tulips, and roses in their seasons ’.¹

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Indian Painting under the Mughals, A.D. 1550 to A.D. 1750 c19: VI. The Meridian (A.D. 1610 to 1625)

Contents

VI. The Meridian (A.D. 1610 to 1625)