Indian Painting under the Mughals, A.D. 1550 to A.D. 1750 c22: IX. Methods and Materials

Indian Painting under the Mughals, A.D. 1550 to A.D. 1750 c22

Language: English

IX. Methods and Materials

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To understand the methods by which the Indian painter produced his miniatures, it may be useful as a beginning to inquire into the manner in which he was first taught the rudiments of his craft—in other words, to view his course of training as an art student. After having seen him engaged in acquiring this preliminary part of his knowledge, we may then follow him through all the various stages of his work of painting a picture, noting the particular materials he uses and the different processes he adopts to secure his results. In this way the technical portion of his craft may become clear. We are fortunate in being able to describe in detail the traditional forms employed by the Mughal artists in instructing the aspiring student of art, as most of these have been preserved by their descendants. Painting was taught in the same way as wood-carving, sculpture, and metal-work, and all the other Indian art industries, by a modified application of the apprenticeship system. The craftsman passed his knowledge of the art on to his sons, or, failing these, the sons of a near relative, but rarely to any one who was not a member, however distant, of his own family. Under the Mughal rule when Akbar founded his school of painting such a method of course received little encouragement, and the caste or family system was for the time in abeyance. Instruction in art among the Indians began at an early age, almost as soon as the child could walk he was given a corner in the workshop where he could play with the implements and materials of his craft, and become accustomed to their shapes and uses. The care of tools and the preparation of his materials were his first lessons, and these were no meaningless exercises, for the sculptor employed his apprentices, however young, in sharpening his chisels and dressing his stones, while the painter utilized them in remaking his squirrel-hair brushes, burnishing his paper, or grinding his colours. When not thus engaged the student was expected to fill in time by copying out a graded series of patterns specially designed for his instruction. These patterns were, so to speak, the alphabet of his craft; and no student’s education was complete until he had acquired a thorough proficiency in them. In this respect all arts were the same; each had its series of traditional patterns on which the learner based his skill. And he was trained to become so conversant with these that he did not, except in the first instance, copy them from an original, but their names only would be communicated to him, and he would carve or draw them correctly, just as a child learns to write the letters of the alphabet by name and not from a copy or written example. For instance, the young wood-carver, after a little preliminary practice, would be expected to execute a specimen of the *kingrī* or *madākhal*, the two initial patterns of his series, from memory, without any reference to the original. Other graded patterns would follow in their proper sequence, and no apprentice would be allowed to attempt the more difficult exercises until he was quite proficient in the preceding ones. The same system prevailed in all the artistic trades, although of course the patterns in each differed according to the nature of the materials employed.

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In the details of this method of instruction there is a striking analogy to that employed in teaching spelling and writing. Each traditional design was regarded as a word, and each minor element of the design was extracted and practised separately like a letter out of the word. When the pupil was ‘ letter perfect ’ in each portion, the next step would be for him to combine these and so make up the finished design or ‘ word ’. In a similar manner all knowledge was acquired in the East; by constant repetition the student’s mind was saturated with the elements of his subject so that it became part of his nature. Classical writings and sacred books were memorized on somewhat the same mechanical system which is maintained in many oriental countries to the present day. One would anticipate that such a method, in art at least, would tend to crush all initiative, and would so deaden the inventive faculties that it would produce nothing better than a mere copying machine, a soulless creature dependent on the brains of his forefathers and relying in no sense on his own. That such is not the case, however, is proved by the high standard of the arts in the orient, as practically the same procedure for teaching the subject in India prevailed in Persia, Tibet, China, and Japan. It is no exaggeration to say that compared with the rigid and apparently mechanical system of art training that was customary in most countries of Asia for many centuries, the so-called South Kensington system in England is a model of flexibility. In the East, while genius in art counted for something, skilled manipulation counted for much more; what was regarded as the highest artistic qualification was not talent, or the faculty for understanding beauty, form, colour, or an appreciation of nature, but trained craftsmanship, perfect control of the hand and eye, and to acquire this technical ability the artist was quite prepared to repeat the same series of exercises day after day and for several years with that deadly persistency in which the oriental alone excels.

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In India under the Mughals the elementary training prescribed for the student of miniature painting was devised on the lines described above. Not all the courses were exactly the same; they varied in some unimportant details according to the individual ideas of the master-painter, but the usual beginning was as follows. Provided with a brush (*qalam*) made of goat’s hair, a small earthen saucer containing Indian ink (*siyāhī*), and a piece of coarse bamboo paper (*bhansī* or *basāhā*), the student proceeded to draw in brush outline the series of exercises illustrated on Plates LXIX and LXX. As already explained, the beginner devoted his whole time to the initial figure of the series and made himself thoroughly acquainted with this before he was allowed to pass on to the next. The complete series comprised twenty different figures, presumed to be graded according to their increasing difficulty, the first six of which are said to be of early Indian origin, the remainder being derived from Persia. At first sight the initial exercise, that of the spiral (*painchak*), appears to be a difficult introduction to the task which lay before the young student, but the Indian artist had already realized that the drawing of certain curves was easier than a straight ‘right’ line, and arranged his patterns accordingly. From the spiral the pupil passed to the triangle (*tribhuj*, No. 2), and from that to the square (*chaturbhuj*, No. 3), placed diagonally. Then came the essay on the drawing of a ‘right’ line, in the figure of the arrow (*tīr*, No. 4), which occupied two lessons; for the pupil was first required to draw it from below upwards, and having mastered this, he was taught to draw the same figure beginning from above and carrying his brush downwards (No. 5). It is quite natural that after the arrow should come the bow (*kamān*, No. 6), with its combination of curve and straight line. The double curve of the bow was first drawn and the accuracy of this tested by the addition of the line representing the cord.

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Up to this point the student has been working on those exercises which are the indigenous Indian contribution to the series; he now continues with the course, but the remaining figures are supposed to be of Persian origin, introduced during Mughal times into the art teaching of India. The curves of the curious double fish (No. 7) are clearly an elaboration of the previous lesson, but the figure also marks the step from the inanimate to the animate object, a conventional design it is true, but it leads up to a series of drawings from life with all the complications of movement that accompany the more advanced study. First of these is the horse (No. 8), followed by the elephant (No. 9); the latter was generally well drawn by the Indian artist, even the most elementary student being able to depict the characteristics of this familiar animal. The camel (No. 10) and the deer (No. 11) came next, and after these two birds (Nos. 12 and 13) with their more subtle lines and intricate plumage but clearly conventional creatures based on Chinese models. After the course from living objects the student made an excursion into the field of architecture (*‘imārat*, No. 14), a useful practice as arcades and pavilions were frequently employed in the backgrounds of Indian pictures. Flower studies (*phūl*, Nos. 15, 16, 17) introduced him to the beauties of the garden, and he copied plant forms in the somewhat formal manner favoured by the Mughals. Then followed an exercise in geometrical tracery (*naqsh u nigār*, No. 18) to test his powers of spacing, and to acquaint him with the use of the rule and square, ending finally in studies of the human form (*insān*, Nos. 19 and 20), the most advanced figures of the whole series.

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Such was the ordinary course of instruction to which the Mughal art student was expected to apply himself during the first years of his apprenticeship. When not engaged in this manner he was employed in learning all about the technical processes of the painters’ craft. An early lesson in this branch of his training consisted in knowing how to smooth the rough surface of the paper, which he brought to an enamel-like condition by burnishing it with a piece of polished agate. On the surface thus prepared he learned to ‘pounce’ the outlines of pictures from a tracing (*khāka*) drawn on a thin transparent sheet of deer skin (*charba*). ‘Pouncing’ is the term employed by artists to describe the process of transferring a drawing on to the paper or material on which the picture is to be painted. To make a pouncing the original drawing is pricked with a sharp metal point into a series of minute pinholes all along the outlines. This forms a kind of outline stencil plate which is securely fixed over the surface of the paper on which the transfer is to be made (in the case of a mural painting it is attached to the surface of the wall). Through the pinholes finely powdered charcoal is dusted by means of a ‘pouncer’, as the small muslin bag is called in which it is contained. When the stencil is removed an exact replica of the original sketch is found on the surface underneath, formed by the charcoal dust passing through the pinholes. This dotted outline has to be gone over with a brush at once, otherwise it will be easily wiped off and disappear. The importance of being thoroughly trained in this process is emphasized in the *Manāqib-i-Hunarvārān*,¹ a sixteenth-century Persian work dealing with the art of painting in general. Having set forth the methods employed by the artists, the author proceeds to describe the manner in which the desired dexterity in this branch of his craft is attained. ‘After having made his transfer, the pupil begins to draw over the pounced charcoal lines. All the details of the original are now carefully observed and noted. This process of tracing is practised for several years until the hand of the pupil has become accustomed to the work. From this constant practice the details and characteristics of the various forms become fixed in his mind. When the course of study has arrived at this stage, the young artist is considered capable of tracing exactly all the figures that are required.’ In the East the process here referred to was a very old one, pouncings have been unearthed in Eastern Turkestan which were used by mural painters as early as the eighth century of the present era. Most collections of Indian painting contain examples of these ‘pouncing stencils’, which are very careful drawings in black ink finely perforated along all the outlines, and discoloured from the frequent application of the charcoal dust.

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¹ *Manāqib-i-Hunarvārān*, or ‘Biographies of Artists’, by Mustapha Defteri, the poet, generally known as Ali-Effendi, written in 1587 during the reign of Sultan Murad III, son of Selim II, at the request of Sa‘d-uddin ibn Hasan-Jan. (Huart, *Les Calligraphes et les Miniaturistes de l’Orient musulman*, p. 6.)

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There seems little doubt that one of the means by which the art of miniature painting was conveyed from Persia to India took the form of tracings. Paper stencils of famous Safavid pictures were brought to the Mughal court, and from these the Indian painters executed copies. The outlines and general design were fixed by the transfer, but the scheme of colouring was left very much to the taste of the copyist. Nevertheless the latter was helped not a little by a method devised by the tracer for conveying even the colour scheme to his brother artist however distant. On different parts of his tracing the former made small dabs of colour, each according to the local colour of the original, as for instance a red dab for the coat, green for the turban, and so on, so that the copyist would at least have a fair idea of the general scheme. Fig. 1 on Plate LXXI is a tracing of a portrait of the Amir Timur, which has been treated in this manner, the small marks of the colour being distinctly discernible in the reproduction. Occasionally transfers are forthcoming in which the colours, instead of being communicated by brush marks, are written in minute characters on the different parts of the drawing.

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Fig. 1. Tracing on deer-skin of a portrait of the Amir Timur showing marks of the ‘colour guides’.

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Fig. 2. Sketch portrait showing the black outline correcting the preliminary red outline.

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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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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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In Rājput tracings this was more frequently done, the names of the pigments being inscribed in Hindi, which would be readily understood by the Indian craftsman.

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In the preparation of his materials the Mughal painter displayed great care, the proof of which is observable in the fresh appearance of his pictures after the lapse of three hundred years. Most of these materials were the productions of his own hands, or manufactured under his direct supervision by his pupils. The paper on which he painted his miniature received particular attention, and was selected and adapted to the purpose with considerable knowledge and skill. At first this commodity was imported from Persia, but before long a factory was established at Sialkot in the Punjab, and paper named after that place became common, being still known as *Sialkoti* at the present time. But although serviceable for writing, for artistic purposes the Persian product was preferred, and papers designated *Irani* and *Ispahani* were mainly used by the early painters of the Mughal school. Good paper of a size suitable for painting was not easily obtained in Akbar’s time, as we find artists were often forced to join several pieces together before even the small dimension required for their miniatures was attained. This joining was very skilfully performed, pieces being added at the sides or ends, thus avoiding any awkward juncture across the middle of the picture. The subsequent burnishing and priming of the surface prevented any of these joints being seen in the finished miniature. After a time other kinds of paper began to find favour with the artists, as the manufacture of this article became more general. These were prepared from three products: bamboo, from which a paper called *basāhā* or *bhansī* was obtained; jute, called *tāt*, hence the kind known as *tatahā*, and a quality made from cotton, *tāt*, which went by the name of *tūlat* paper. There was also a small quantity made from flax, which was referred to as *sannī*, while a few artists executed their work on a silk paper, *harīrī*, occasionally alluded to as *reshmī*, but this had the defect of cracking in the course of time. Pictures on silk itself are very rare indeed, and there exist only a few Mughal miniatures painted on vellum. Religious prejudices may partly account for the scarcity of the former, as some Muhammadans have an objection to being brought into contact with the products of the silkworm; and vellum, being prepared from the skin of calves, would on somewhat similar grounds not be acceptable to the Hindus. In the Hanna collection at Washington, U.S.A., however, there are a few Mughal miniatures painted on vellum, but few others are known. As the painters’ art extended and the demand for paper increased, other kinds came into use for pictures, and several places in India began to manufacture it. Daulatabad in the Deccan was one of these, and on the paper from this source paintings in the Deccani style were executed. Still farther south, and at a later date, what was called *Mughali* paper was preferred, evidently imported from Hindustan, but that used by the Mysore artists was a local production known as *kardey*. No one of these papers was white, most of them being a light buff tint.

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Having selected one of the qualities of paper that suited his purpose, this would be handed over to a pupil to be burnished with the piece of agate already referred to. While the apprentice was engaged in preparing the surface, the master painter would sketch out roughly his design on an inferior piece of paper preparatory to handing it over to another pupil to be traced. The preliminary sketch was made with a piece of charcoal or specially prepared pencil called among Indian artists a *lekhnī*. One of the *silpas*, or ancient treatises on the traditional practices of the Hindus, states that the latter was made as follows. Indian red (*gairikā*) was ground fine, and combined with dried cow-dung. To this mixture gum and water were added, the whole being worked into a paste and rolled into sticks, which could be used like pencils when dried. It seems most likely that the *lekhnī* was employed by the mural decorator, for the miniature painter would no doubt prefer sticks of charcoal as being more suitable to his medium. The first outline on the surface of the burnished paper was always made with Indian red (*gairikā*), which being unmixed with any gum or similar adhesive could be easily removed if any alterations were required. Over the lines of his preliminary sketch in red the painter made his more finished drawing by means of a black outline, which deviated here and there from his original red sketch wherever he thought this might be improved. A sketch showing the two outlines, one correcting the other in places, is given on Plate LXXI, Fig. 2. The drawing in the black colour was a fixture as the pigment was mixed with gum, so that any alteration to this had to be made by obliterating it with white paint. Black was an important colour in Persian and Mughal pictures, as it was used not only for the purposes of outline drawing, but it occasionally acted as a striking note in the colour scheme, some portions of the picture, a horse, a piece of decoration, or a garment, being painted a brilliant black. Two qualities of this pigment were known to the Mughals. One mixture was called *siyāhī* and used for painting, and the other, a somewhat different preparation employed only in writing, was called *mustafā’ī roshnā’ī*. The latter is said to have been invented by a famous Muhammadan calligraphist of the name of Mustafa, and consisted of the same black pigment as that in the artist’s palette except that it was mixed with the juice of ‘harrā and āmlā’ (*Terminalia Chebula* and *Phyllanthus Emblica*). This black pigment was the soot deposited when burning mustard oil (*tili-tel*), an extract of the *Sesamum indicum*. A small *chirāgh* or lamp, like a saucer with a rudimentary spout, was filled with the oil, which was lit by means of a cotton wick. A foot over the light a bell-shaped earthenware receptacle (*ghant*) was suspended in which the soot was allowed to collect. When sufficient was deposited in the *ghant* it was very carefully mixed with gum arabic and thus converted into *siyāhī* or Indian ink. There were elaborations of the process, and the Indian artists relate that the painters of China came to India to learn how to prepare it, since when it was also known as Chinese ink.

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The fine black outline seen in many of the Mughal miniatures was obtained by means of the *siyāhī* described above. Much of the quality of this line was due to the care exercised in the preparation of this black pigment, but not a little of it also depended on the fineness of the brushes (*qalam*). The finest of all, by which most of the miniature painting was done, were made from the downy hairs on the tails of young grey squirrels—the *galairi*, a little family of whom make their home in almost every roadside tree in the Punjab. Prevented by his religion from taking life, the Indian painter released the squirrel after removing its tail, a small bundle of the latter being always kept among his implements for use as required. Large brushes for coarse work were made from the hair inside the ears of calves, while those of a medium size were obtained from the hairs on the underside of the goat, and also from the mongoose. The black outline having been correctly drawn on the burnished surface of his paper, the picture was then ready for the colour. What is known among European artists as *tempera* was the process by which the Mughal painter executed his miniature. It is so named because the pigments are *tempered*, that is, mixed and diluted with a ‘medium’, or, as it is sometimes called, a ‘vehicle’. Nevertheless the designation *tempera*, which is derived from the Italian, admits of the widest application, but *gouache*, the French studio word, also practically describes the Mughal technique. The process of tempering brings the pigments to the correct consistency for painting, as well as causing them to adhere to the surface of the paper. Gum arabic was the basis of the medium usually employed by the Mughals, but a preparation of glue was sometimes used, and occasionally the resin of the *nīm* tree (*Melia Azadirachta*). The glue (*vajra-lepa* or *sares*) was made from freshly shredded buffalo hide boiled in water until it assumed the consistency of butter. It was then rolled into balls and dried to preserve it; when required it was dissolved in hot water. Some of the painters preferred fish glue prepared in a similar manner. Two kinds of gum arabic were in request, a fine quality in crystals called *babūl* which was mixed with the colours, and a coarser grade known as *katila* and used for priming the surface ready for the painting. To prepare the medium the gum was mixed with a little sugar, water was added, and the whole boiled.

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When the Mughal artist began the actual painting he first applied a thin coat of white colour over the entire surface of the paper; through this the black outline drawing already described was faintly visible. This outline under the white priming served as a guide to the artist in the next stage of *rang āmezī* or colouring. He began this by painting in those parts of his picture which required the secondary or mixed colours, following with the white, and after that the yellows, or *gul pumbah*. Any combinations of red (*gulābī*) were then added, and the whole was outlined, while the last process of all was the application of the gold. The outlining was sometimes done throughout in a dark neutral tint, but many of the Akbari artists demarcated each colour with a much lower shade of the same pigment, a deep red outline for pink, indigo or ultramarine for blue, and so forth. Painting in the gold was a delicate operation, the preparation of the material for this purpose requiring considerable skill. Gold leaf was first obtained by beating out the metal in the usual manner. Fragments of the leaf were then pounded with sand in a mortar until the whole formed a fine dust. The sand was removed by washing, and the gold was made ready to be applied to the paper by the addition of glue. When it was quite dry on the picture it was burnished with the tusk of a boar. All these processes of the painting having been completed it was customary to burnish the whole of it again, but this time the miniature was laid face downwards on a smooth surface, and the polished agate applied only to the reverse side of the paper. No final coat of varnish was used as has been described by some writers, this mistake having probably arisen from the fact that it was always applied over the painting on papier mâché, which was really a separate craft, although similar in some respects to the art of miniature painting.

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The foregoing describes the ordinary method by which the Mughal painter obtained his results, but that there were frequent variations of the process goes without saying. In sketching, especially in portraiture, the first white priming was often omitted, the painting being executed directly on the surface of the paper. One style of painting, known as *garah*, practised more in the later stages of the art, consisted in encrusting parts of the picture with real seed pearls, and flakes of precious stones, similar to the *nouches* of the fourteenth-century Italian pictures, such embellishments being applied to the head ornaments, draperies, and other ornamental accessories. Water, without the addition of colour, was used for some purposes, a method referred to as *ābīna*. For instance, a sketch would be drawn in with a brush charged with water only, which when dry would leave a watermark impression as a guide for the subsequent painting. Another very delicate effect is said to have been obtained by the Kashmiri painters. They allowed water to stand until it had completely evaporated, leaving a slight sediment, which they used as a background tint to the profile of a portrait, as it left a faint but charming contrast of tone between the flesh colour and the ground. Many of the Indian pigments were extracts of minerals, but some were of a vegetable origin. In the early Safavid and Mughal pictures the deep strong blue was undoubtedly azurite, a natural ore of copper obtained from a ‘pocket’ which existed in Hungary in possession of the Turks during the fifteenth century. After a time this deposit was worked out, and its place was then taken in the later miniatures by a lapis lazuli (*lājward*) imported from Badakshan, now in Afghan territory. Indigo (*nīl*), a local vegetable product, found a place among the blues in the Indian painter’s palette, while of reds he had a wide range, two of the most useful being red ochre (*gerū*) and Indian red (*hurmachī*), both of which are extracted from oxide of iron found plentifully in the neighbourhood of Jabalpur in the Central Provinces. Lake was prepared from lac, the product of the insect responsible for shellac, too well known to need description. Cochineal was also the basis of one of the reds after its discovery in the year 1518, but before then *kirmīs*, a pigment obtained from the *Coccus indicus* or *ilicis*, an insect found in Persia, was used.¹ But the red par excellence of the painters of the Middle East, and one which figures prominently in most of the pictures of the Timurid, Safavid, and Mughal schools, is vermilion, a crude cinnabar or sulphide of mercury known as *shangarf*. Among the yellows were chrome and ochre, the last named being made from a soft saponaceous earth found near Multan in the Punjab, hence the common name for it is *Multanī mittī*. The well-known Indian yellow (*peorī*) is euxanthonate of magnesium, and orpiment (*hartāl*) is a sulphide of arsenic, while one of his yellows the Indian painter extracted from the flowers of the *dhāk* (*Butea frondosa*)

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¹ H. F. A., p. 462. Also *Burlington Magazine*, vol. iv, p. 144.

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and called *naqlī peori*. Of the greens a charming tint was obtained from verdigris, known as *jangal* or *zangār*, but a darker tone used in backgrounds, and called *vassī*, was obtained by blending indigo with orpiment, while in a somewhat similar manner a water-melon green was produced designated *tarbūzī*. What the painter referred to as *mūng* green was also a favourite colour extracted from the *mūng* (*Phaseolus Mungo*), and he did on occasion introduce a very charming terre verte (*sang sabz*), a silicate of ferrous oxide. A purple was the result of mixing vermilion and indigo, but the artist could get a still darker effect specially suitable for outlining by a combination of lampblack and *hormuzi*, the latter a brownish ochre found on the island of Hormuz, in the Persian Gulf. The white was a white lead, or cerusite, imported from Kashgar in Eastern Turkestan, while the gold was washed from a variety of places in India or the neighbouring countries. It was not obtained from Panna in Central India as is sometimes stated, the soil of that state being in no sense auriferous.

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The artist having finished his picture or *taswīr* by means of the process and materials described above, there still remained much to be done before the miniature was considered quite complete. The *taswīr* was only the central panel of the work; added to this there were the mounting and the border-designing besides several other details, each of which required the services of a separate expert. We have already seen that on occasion as many as two and sometimes even three artists, or *musavvirs*, co-operated on the *taswīr* alone, and for the rest of the work a similar number of craftsmen was required. These were the *vasligar*, or mounter, the *naqshanavīs*, who painted the pattern on the mount; and, if the reverse of the miniature was to display a specimen of calligraphy, as was very often the case, there was the skilled writer, or *khushnavīs*. To ensure that all these processes were properly carried out the usual procedure was as follows. The *taswīr*, having been painted on a thin irregular-shaped piece of paper, was first handed over to the *vasligar* to be trimmed, and mounted on a stouter card. It will be noticed that many miniatures are not in the centre of the mount but slightly to one side, a custom derived from the Persian book-illustrations, which, being bound in a book, were placed in this position. Many Mughal pictures were intended to be bound in a *muraqqa‘*, a kind of album or scrap-book, so that they were also mounted on one side by the *vasligar* with this object in view. The mounted picture was then taken to the *naqshanavis*, who painted on it the *hāshiya*, or border. As the border of a miniature was designed on a system of prearranged lines and spaces, and was an important part of the work of art as a whole, it merits description. Immediately adjoining the central panel, or 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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LXXII. Example of a qita' or elegant writing and illuminating; the writing by Mir Ali of Herat who died in A.D. 1558-9; Indian Museum, Calcutta ; size 15" x 8¾".

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*taswīr*, is a narrow band contained between black and white ruled lines. The lines were called by some *jadval* and by others *khat*, while the narrow band which was usually decorated with a running pattern of flowers and leaves was known as *bail*. If, however, the band was ornamented with detached flowers repeated at intervals, it went by the name of *phulkārī*, or flower pattern. The remaining portion of the mount, or *hāshiya*, was embellished by means of a variety of designs each of which has its special character and name. One of the simplest and most effective was a process of fine powdering with gold called *ghubāra*; when the gold was more coarsely distributed it was referred to as *shafaq*. Such patterns were obtained in two ways, either by ‘spluttering’ on the gold paint while wet from the bristles of a stiff brush, or by coating the surface of the mount with a wash of rice-water, and then powdering the gold on from a pouncing bag. A pattern which consisted of larger patches of gold sprinkled irregularly over the ground was known as *tīkā* from the name of the caste mark seen on the foreheads of most Hindus. The foregoing are the simpler methods of decorating the *hāshiya*, but a more elaborate scheme is the *tarah*, a device of ornamented scrolls like arabesques painted in flat brush forms of gold, as shown in the border of the picture on Plate XXI. But the most highly embellished mount of all was that which first made its appearance in the reign of Jahangir, afterwards to become a common feature in the miniatures executed under Shah Jahan. This is the *jhār*, a combination of floral forms of which the border shown in Plate LIII is a notable example.

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Indian collectors as a rule kept their pictures in a *muraqqa‘*, or album, so that instead of leaving the reverse side of the miniature plain, a condition which is never satisfying to the Indian mind, it became customary to decorate these with some form of the painters’ or writers’ art, usually a combination of the two. Plate LXXII shows one method of treating the back of a miniature which was not uncommon in the latter half of the sixteenth century. It is what is known as a *qit‘a*, or example of elegant writing and illumination, the actual calligraphy in this picture being from the pen of Mir Ali of Herat, a celebrated *kātib* who died in 1558–9. But while the writing is good, the embellishment around it is equally fine, the colour scheme being blue, apple-green, Indian red, yellow, and gold, all arranged in the most effective manner. The minute handling in all these paintings was of course largely a matter of expert training, but added to this the eyesight that allowed such delicate detail to be introduced into the design must have been a remarkable gift. Much of the work of the school, even of this fine character, was done without any magnifying appliances, although in the seventeenth century the artists were using spectacles as some of the portraits of the Persian miniaturists prove. When the miniature collector could not afford to have the reverse of his picture decorated with such an expensive design as the one here illustrated, he ordered the mounter to add something of a simpler nature, which the *vasligar* was always ready to do. For this craftsman had a selection of designs which he could place on the back of the picture, many of them appropriate to the subject on the front. If the latter depicted a love scene (*dillā*), or any happy event, he painted in the middle of the reverse side a spray of maidenhair (*sambal*), saffron (*kaisar*), or passion flower (*kurnphul*), while if the subject was a sad one or a departure, he introduced a poppy flower (*gul lāla*), or prickly pear (*nāgphanī*).

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It has been shown that the two broad divisions into which the Indian miniatures resolve themselves are the Rājput and Mughal—the Hindu and Muhammadan forms of expression respectively. Indian connoisseurs have further referred these into a number of subdivisions or styles known in the vernacular as *qalams*. A literal translation of the word *qalam* is a reed pen, but used in connexion with painting it signifies a brush. The indigenous classification is therefore founded mainly on the technique of the painting—the actual brush-work—although it also has a geographical basis. For while one of the most popular *qalams* or styles is known as the *siyāhī qalam*, a name derived from and denoting its black outline, other miniatures are referred to as Delhi, Jaipur, Patna, &c., according to the art-centre from which they emanated. The *qalams* are in certain respects analogous to the regional dialects of a language, with just the subtle differences that enable those who know that language to distinguish one from the other. And, as one approved literary form of a language may be regarded as the standard speech of a people, so the Delhi *qalam* was the standard style of Mughal painting—the classical form of the art. But while Delhi came to be looked on as the fountain head of the Mughal school of painting, mainly because that city was the political capital of the Mughal empire, after a time other styles began to emerge. A full list of all the Indian *qalams* both Rājput and Mughal is here appended.

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Of the three main *qalams* of the Mughals the Delhi *qalam* is the one in which the majority of pictures were painted, and it represents the imperial development of the art, the other styles in comparison being really provincial. It does not follow, however, that all the pictures in the Delhi *qalam* were painted at the Mughal capital, but the name indicates that they were painted in the manner approved by the court, whether it was situated at Delhi, Agra, Ajmere, Mandu, Fathpur Sikri, or Lahore. Although Delhi has been regarded as the capital of Hindustan, as a residence this city did not attract the Mughal emperors until Shah Jahan built and occupied the palace fort there in 1648. Akbar preferred Agra and its environs, while Jahangir, whose restless spirit allowed him no continuous abode, usually had his head-quarters at Lahore. But the official artists, who worked under the aegis of the throne, set the fashion in the style of painting, and they formed part of the royal entourage, wherever this was maintained.

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The Irani *qalam*, or style of Iran (Persia), needs little explanation, and will be readily recognized as connected with those Mughal pictures which show direct Persian influence, or were painted after the Safavid manner. Not only many of the early pictures but a number of those of a later date show that the Persian influence persisted right through the history of the Mughal school. The *siyāhī qalam* takes its name from the fact that it signifies a picture executed in a black or ink (*siyāhī*) outline, little or no colour being introduced. It is said to have been a style brought direct from Persia; a good example may be studied on Plate VIII, Fig. 1. It found considerable favour with the Mughal artists, some of their finest work, especially their portraiture, being drawn in this *qalam*. A black colour was generally used, but a dark sepia is not uncommon, and sometimes a few touches of gold were added to heighten the effect, but the idea of the *siyāhī qalam* is to show the artist's command of pure line. Of the subsidiary *qalams*, which have been already referred to as provincial developments of the Delhi *qalam*, a very brief account is necessary, as they mainly represent the Mughal school after its best period. They were the result of the migrations of the artists to various cities where they thought patronage of their craft might be found after the Mughal court had begun to decline. Such migrations produced the purely local styles of Murshidabad and Patna, which had a fleeting reputation within the first half of the nineteenth century. Each of these *qalams* had its own character, the Patna style although hard in feeling was quite good in technique, because the original progenitor of this small community had been a skilful exponent of the old Delhi school. The Lucknow *qalam* which flourished at the court of Oude during the early years of the nineteenth century displays Mughal art at its worst and merits no special mention. In the Deccan at Hyderabad a few artists seem to have settled and produced a form of painting very much akin to the Delhi *qalam*, but rather more minute in its technique and smaller in handling generally. It is of little interest except that it probably afforded the connecting link between the Mughal school and the southern Indian developments which have been described in a previous chapter. The Kashmiri *qalam* is a somewhat elusive style of painting, a slightly spiritless imitation of the Delhi work, showing good drawing and colouring but a lack of vigour and character when compared with the best Mughal painting.

Linked texts (1)

Viśvakarmaśilpa — Viśvakarman, Sanskrit