The Artistic Genesis of the Mughal School
In the previous post, the course and character of the two schools of painting, Persian and Indian, have been outlined; while the general circumstances that brought the former art into Hindustan have also been noticed. But the fact that a country was invaded and a dynasty founded does not necessarily imply that these events, politically important though they might be, were accompanied by a revival of the arts, especially by the formation of a school of painting as distinctive as that of the Mughals. Something more was required; and this was provided by the intensely artistic nature of the Mughal emperors themselves. With such a tradition as that of the Timurids, an intelligent patronage of the arts naturally followed. But added to this there was the personal element, which showed itself distinctly in each succeeding phase of the painting of the Mughal school. The dynasty as a whole was so keenly interested in the arts that each emperor, as he came into power, put something of himself into the painting of his reign To follow the development of Mughal painting, therefore, it is necessary to understand something of the individual temperament of those monarchs who did so much for its encouragement.
It must be admitted that Babur, the founder of the Mughal dynasty, had on the whole a somewhat unfavorable opinion of India; and, on more than one occasion, expressed himself with feeling on the barrenness of the country and the shortcomings of its people. From this emperor's famous memoirs, it is clear that he had insufficient sympathy with the aspirations of his subjects to properly appreciate their intellectual qualities or their handiwork. He had too recently left the polished courts of his ancestors in Turkestan, with their brilliant array of talent, literary and artistic, to discern much virtue in what he considered the crude efforts of the Hindus. Rarely does he make any reference to the art of painting in his autobiography, and then only in a desultory way. Nevertheless, Babur's influence on the artistic development of India was immense, although this did not show itself during his lifetime. To explain this, it will be necessary to realize something of the strength of this monarch's character and the versatility of his genius. Babur stands out in high relief as one of the most remarkable men Asia has ever produced. His ancestry was a distinguished one. On his father's side, he was a direct descendant in the fifth generation from Amir Timur, while he was connected through his mother with the famous Mongol Chinghiz Khan. With the blood of these two great families in his veins, it is not to be wondered at that Babur developed early into a man of outstanding ability. As a young man, he succeeded his father, 'Umar Shaikh Mirza, in the sovereignty of Farghana, the eastern portion of Timur's dominions. His extreme youth, however, forbade him to assert his authority over a group of powerful nobles who had usurped every kind of power, and eventually he was driven from his kingdom After years of adventure and repeated efforts to regain the throne of his fathers, he was obliged to give up the contest and turn to other fields to find an outlet for his unbounded energies. An opportunity soon presented itself. In the stern diplomatic school in which he had been trained, he had acquired a shrewd knowledge of Asian affairs; and when the time for a decision arrived, his mind reverted instinctively to India. What followed is told in his own words: 'In the year 1525, when the sun was in Sagittarius, I set out on my march to invade Hindustan.' How this expedition, so simply set down in his memoirs, prospered, so that within a year he was seated on the throne of Delhi, there to found the Mughal empire, is outside the scope of this work. But the high courage and indomitable will that animated this enterprise, and the fine mental qualities that he showed in this and throughout the whole of his career, are frequently recalled by the characteristic actions of his successors, who were touched by his spirit. It is therefore no exaggeration to say that, as Babur's ideals were their guide, so his culture, which he bequeathed to them, inspired that appreciation of art and learning, which marks the finest period of their rule.
 |
| An illustration from the Akbarnama |
For a bare list of this emperor's attainments, it is only necessary to refer to his cousin, Mirza Haider, who was himself a famous writer of the time. After stating that he was 'adorned with various virtues and clad with numberless excellencies, above all which towered bravery and humanity,' this genuine admirer goes on to say that 'in the composition of Turkic poetry, he was second only to Amir Ali Shir. He has written a divan in the purest and most lucid Turkic. He invented a style of verse called mubayyan, and was the author of a most useful treatise on jurisprudence, which has been generally adopted. He also wrote an essay on Turkic prosody, more elegant than any other, and versified the Risala-i-Validiyya of his Holiness. Then there is his Waqa'i', or Turki Memoirs, written in a simple, unaffected, yet very pure style. He excelled in music and other arts. Indeed, no one of his family before him ever possessed such talents, nor did any of his race perform such arnazing exploits or experience such strange adventures.' Added to this, he was a learned philosopher, a mighty hunter, an enthusiastic traveler, an insatiable sightseer, an eager student of the habits and appearance of animals and birds, and especially devoted to flowers, gardens, and the beauties of nature. And above all he was, there is no other word for it—a born artist—as shown on almost every page of his own memoirs.
Babur's Artistic Nature
Not that Babur was able to express his artistic ideas in form or color, although one may recognize a note of regret that such technical skill was denied him; but at all times and seasons his love of scenery, flowers, and natural effects impels him to describe these with a sympathy and intimacy which is a sure sign of the aesthetic mind. If he had not the craftsman's trained hand, he had the artist's eye which enabled him to write so feelingly of the beauty of the campfires twinkling below him, like stars reflected in a murky sea, or the mingling of the yellow and red blooms of the arghwan, so that he knew no sight in the world to be compared to them.
Even when in the direst need he could always find solace in the exquisite growth of some flower, or fruit, or tree, as on a perilous occasion when his life was in immediate danger he lingered in an orchard to write one apple-tree had been in excellent bearing. On some branches five or six scattered leaves still remained, and exhibited a beauty which the painter, with all his skill, might attempt in vain to portray. Here undoubtedly was the aesthetic spirit, which, given opportunity, might have achieved great things. But Babur lived before his time. His life was spent in the tented field, with little prospect of any prolonged period of leisure in which he might have given rein to his artistic inclinations. A picture of him, dictating his memoirs to a scribe, is reproduced on Plate V, but this was most probably painted some seventy years after his death, as there are no definite records of any artists carrying on their craft at the Mughal court during his reign. He died in 1530 at the comparatively early age of forty-seven, in the midst of the task of consolidating his empire, worn out with his exertions, and when the fruits of his labors were almost within his grasp Babur was succeeded by his son, Humayun, who, while inheriting many of the agreeable and scholarly attributes of his father, was by no means his equal in character or administrative ability of a charm of manner which never left him even in the darkest moment of his chequered career, he had all the social but few of the political qualities of a king. And the state of the empire demanded the latter more than the former. For ten years he strove to continue the work his father had begun, but in vain—it was beyond his power —and, after a series of defeats, he was driven from the throne. From 1540, when forced to fly from Delhi by the Afghan usurper Sher Shah, until he returned again as emperor in 1555, he was a homeless wanderer, a king only in name. To a man of studious disposition, as Humayun undoubtedly was, these years of exile were far from wasted, much of his time being spent in travel, and in a variety of intellectual pursuits. For one whole year he was entertained at the court of Shah Tahmasp of Persia, and his experiences there were Destined, at later date, to have an important influence on the arts of Hindustan. Humayun found Persia, under the early rule of the Safavids, an attractive study, as he saw this country at a period when it was rising out of the ruins of the past and endeavouring to assert itself again as a nationality. Its aims and ideals, somewhat sensual as they were, found reflection in its literature and its art. In illustrated books it found one of its means of expression, and in these Shah Tahmasp, under whom Humayun found protection, took no little interest. Stimulated by his patronage, the Safavid school of illuminators produced some of its most brilliant work, while in the pictures that decorated his books the Persian artists were never excelled. It is true that the death of Bihzad, previous to the arrival of Humayun in the country, had deprived the school of its founder, but much of his artistic skill had been bequeathed to his pupils, who well maintained the traditions of their great master. Such giants as Aga Mirak, Sultan Muhammad, and Muzaffar Ali were in their prime, while there were many other able craftsmen, little inferior to these, practicing their art in the various ancient Iranian centers of learning. Infected by the aesthetic zeal of his royal host, Humayun spent some time traveling about the country, visiting its historic cities, conversing with its scholars, listening to its musicians and poets, and making himself known in the studios of its most noted artists.
During the whole of this period of exile, with all his faults, Humayun never lost faith in himself or gave up the hope of retrieving sooner or later the fallen fortunes of his house. He saw himself again the ruler of his lost empire, surrounded by a throng of savants and artists attracted to his court by the generosity of his patronage. And that this was no idle dream, but a very practical belief, is clear from his actions.
Mir Sayyid Ali
At Tabriz, he made the acquaintance of a young painter by the name of Mir Sayyid Ali, whose work even then was attracting attention. As one of the illustrators of a sumptuous copy of Nizami's Khamsah, he had been associated with some of the leading artists of the country, and his work was judged equal to theirs. One of his pictures is reproduced on Plate VI, the subject being an incident in the famous love story of Laila and Majnun, an Eastern romance which has been likened in some respects to Ariosto's Orlando Furioso. In the foreground, the emaciated form of the hero will be observed, at whom the village boys are energetically throwing stones to show their contempt for his impoverished condition. But the design is full of interesting details, some of which truthfully depict the different occupations of the people of that time In its treatment, it shows how completely Mir Sayyid Ali had absorbed the style of his older contemporaries and had already developed into a finished exponent of the Safavid school. The young artist's training readily explains this. His father, Mir Mansur, who taught him the rudiments of his craft, was also a skilled painter, a native of Badakhshan. Hearing of the famous school at Tabriz, with Bihzad at its head, he took his young son with him and traveled there to make his home. Both father and son thus came under the influence of Bihzad, working in the same atmosphere and assimilating much of his manner and technique. It is not difficult to picture the boy sitting near the leader of the Persian school, watching him lay in his backgrounds or outline his figures with such inimitable skill, and yearning to follow in his footsteps. Here, as a younger man, he learned to express himself not only by means of the brush but also in verse. For, like Michelangelo and Rossetti, Sayyid Ali developed into a poet as well as a painter, and later, under the takhallus, or pen-name, of 'Juda'i, he lived to achieve no little fame. In the same city at this time there was also another rising artist, who likewise paid his respects to the exiled king. He was a man from Shiraz, by name Khwajah Abdus Samad, and as versatile as Sayyid Ali, for he too was an expert in both arts, having already made a reputation as a painter and a calligrapher. Added to these attainments, he was a man of some social position, his father being a Wazir to Shah Shuja', the Governor of Shiraz. To both of these young and promising artists, Humayun seems to have held out definite prospects of employment in his service as soon as he was in a position once more to maintain a court of his own.
But several years elapsed before the Mughal emperor's star was again in the ascendant; and it was not until 1550 that the two artists left their native country to join him at Kabul. Here, on the confines of his empire, Humayun re-established some semblance of authority, while awaiting a favorable opportunity to lead his followers into Hindustan and regain his lost kingdom. Although engaged in the preparations for this important event, Humayun found leisure for many peaceful occupations, in which he utilized the services of his artists from Tabriz. It is related that he and his little son Akbar took lessons in drawing and generally interested themselves in the subject of painting. Here also, Humayun started Mir Sayyid Ali on a commission that was to last him for the greater part of his life, and that has survived as one of the most valuable records of the early Mughal school. He was ordered to prepare a large and fully illustrated copy of a famous Persian classic, the Amir Hamzah (Dastan-i-Amir-Hamzah), the scope of which shows that Humayun was a patron of large ideas It was to consist of twelve volumes of one hundred folios each, and each folio was to contain an illustration. The whole book, therefore, when finished, would comprise some twelve hundred pictures of an unusually large size, as each page measured 22 inches by 281. Portions of Mir Sayyid Ali's magnum opus have survived, some sixty pages being preserved in the Industrial Museum, Vienna, while twenty-five are in the Indian section of the Victoria and Albert Museum, at South Kensington, one of which is reproduced on Plate VII. As we learn that, after being engaged on it for seven years, only four volumes were completed, which is at the rate of more than one page a week, it is clear that Mir Sayyid Ali did not do the work single-handed. He and Abdus Samad collaborated; and, with a few assistants, either Persian or Indian, thus brought together, they formed the nucleus of the Mughal school. This beginning would have been further developed by the emperor, had he been allowed the time to devote to it. But arduous days followed, Humayun's dramatic swoop down from his eyry in the Himalayas into the plains of the Punjab took place, and marches and counter-marches were the order of the day. In the end, the Mughal wrested the scepter from the Pathan usurper and made himself again master of Hindustan. During this time, while battles were being won and lost, and the fate of the empire lay in the balance, the two Persian artists were quietly painting their illustrations of the Amir Hamzah, looking for the day when they would be able to show the progress of the work to their imperial employer. But fate decreed that Humayun should but taste the cup of happiness only to have it dashed from his lips. with in a few months after having reinstalled himself on the Mughal throne, an accident on the steps of his library at Delhi deprived him of his life.
Akbar Enthroned
Information of the untimely death of Humayun was brought post-haste to his young son Akbar, who was campaigning in the foothills of the Punjab Himalayas. A picture of the prince receiving the news at Hariana¹ is reproduced on Plate VIII, Fig. 1, and there is no mistaking the look of genuine excitement on the face of the messenger who has brought it. Akbar was enthroned without delay, but almost immediately signs of insubordination became apparent, indicative of the troubled times which lay ahead. The first rebellious act was that of a truculent noble named Shah Abu'l-Ma'ali, who stubbornly refused to obey promptly a summons to the coronation durbar. He was at once arrested, and what might have been a serious mutiny was nipped in the bud Contemporary records attach considerable importance to this incident and to the quick and effective manner in which it was suppressed, for it is fully described in the Akbarnāma, and it forms the subject of a spirited sketch by the Persian painter Abdus Samad (Plate VIII, Fig. 2), who was probably an eyewitness of the scene. Both artist and historian follow the custom of the age in demeaning and belittling the culprit, who is represented in the picture as a simpering youth, while the loyal chief who arrested him takes the form of a bearded and burly giant. The traitorous noble had been invited to dine, and 'when the festive board was about to be spread, and when he put out his hands to wash them, Tuluq Khan Qochi, who was strong and nimble, behaved dexterously, and coming from behind seized both of Shah Abu'l-Ma'ali's arms and made him a prisoner'. Much disaffection of a similar nature had to be overcome during the next few years, when the young emperor's energies were entirely occupied in disposing of rival claimants, defining the limits of his imperial control, devising a stable administration, and in general making his position in India tolerably secure. It was natural, therefore, that, while this period of political and military activity prevailed, the arts of peace, for instance, of painting and the small group of artists brought together by Humayun, should be left very much to themselves; and no great progress was made for the first fifteen years of Akbar's reign. Mir Sayyid Ali, still retained as court painter, continued to produce his illustrations to the Amir Hamzah, when, having finished rather less than half of them, he retired in order to go on a pilgrimage to Mecca. Later, he rejoined Akbar's service; but in the meantime, his brother artist from Shiraz was placed in sole charge of the work, which was eventually brought to completion some years later.
The pictures of the Amir Hamzah, along with a few others that have been preserved, reveal the character of the art of painting under the Mughals at this early stage. In the main, it was Persian, an offshoot of the Safavid school, to which it showed a close affinity, as it was the handiwork of artists trained in the traditions of Bihzad. Mir Sayyid Ali's illustrations of the Persian classic are very much in the style that he learned as a young man in Tabriz. They are larger because of his patron's somewhat grandiose ideas, and they are on cloth because, as explained elsewhere, paper in India was not easily obtained. Plate IX is another example of a painting executed in Hindustan towards the middle of the sixteenth century, and it is of the same general character The man on horseback, a Turkoman in face and dress, is Amir Shaikh Hasan Noyan, a wali (official) of Baghdad, and the picture is sufficiently Persian in appearance to suggest that it might have been painted under the supervision of Sultan Muhammad himself in his studio at Tabriz. But a closer study shows that there is something in this work which is not Safavid; in some way it is reminiscent of the Rajput style, vaguely suggestive of an Indian environment. It is impossible not to admire the feeling of breadth in the landscape portion of this early example of painting under the Mughals, although the picture as a whole is very much more Persian than Indian. Plate X is a picture probably of the period corresponding to the preceding, to which almost the same remarks apply, except that in the lower portion more of the Indian element is discernible. The rustic scene of the herdsman with his cows and buffaloes, and his wife and child in the lean-to shelter, is plainly of Rajput origin. But the remainder of the work is foreign in its treatment. It is an illustration taken from the Haft Paikar, or Seven Images, a poem comprising seven tales told by the seven favorites of King Bahram Gur. The story portrayed here is a long one. It tells of a sheep dog, who took to killing the flock he was trusted to guard; when this was discovered, he was suspended from a tree—crucified—and on his treacherous conduct the storyteller proceeds to moralize. Another miniature of considerable historical importance, which it is possible to date with a fair degree of accuracy, is reproduced on Plate XI. It represents the arrival of the famous musician and singer, Tansen, at the court of Akbar, an event which took place in 1562, when the emir emperor was twenty years of age. As the picture was most probably painted at this time, it throws some valuable light on the state of the art of painting at a somewhat obscure period of its evolution.
Traditions of Bihzad
It is an excellent illustration of the transition from the Persian to the Mughal style, and exemplifies in the most marked manner the beginnings of the fusion of the former with the indigenous art of the Hindus. In its general scheme, in its architecture, and in its decorative detail, it is essentially Persian; while in its figures, in some of the foliage, and in its atmosphere, there is much that can only be styled Rajput. It is a brilliant piece of coloring, enriched with much gold. Tansen, with a small group of musicians, is seen below the emperor in the left center of the picture. That the painter of this miniature borrowed largely from the work of Bihzad is shown by the general scheme of his picture, which repeats in many respects a favorite composition of the great master of the Persian school The graceful but effeminate architecture: the plan of the garden, the cypress trees and almond blossoms, the ornamental pond and fountain, the high retaining wall in the foreground, with the doorkeeper at the gate leaning on his staff, all have been taken bodily from one of Bihzad's motifs and adapted to suit an Indian scene. The color scheme is from the same source. But imposed on this Persian basis, there is much that is Indian; the figures are more personal, the doorkeeper is clearly a study from life, the elephant is drawn only as an Indian could draw this animal; the realistic touch is visible in the sais putting his arm over the neck of his horse to caress it; in the garden, the less formal and native plantain and banyan mingle with the stiff and decorative Persian trees; all these details suggest that the picture was produced in an Indian environment. Added to this, it conveys the impression that it is a reduced mural painting: in the treatment of the vertical planes, in the relation of the figures to the background, in its defined contours, and in the 'largeness' of the composition generally, the art of the wall-decorator seems disclosed. Who the actual painter was can only be a matter of conjecture; and whether it was the work of a Persian artist influenced by the expansive paintings he saw about him in Hindustan, or whether it was an attempt by one of these Hindu mural decorators to adapt his style to a Persian miniature, is an open question. In either case, it is significant of the state of painting under the Mughals during the first fifteen years of Akbar's reign. Plates XII and XIII illustrate the art of painting at about the same time, or a little later, and are even more Persian in their general character. The former is a portion of the large painting on cotton cloth reproduced on Plate LX, the subject of which is the * Princes of the House of Timur', and includes early portraits of Babur, Humayun, and Akbar. The latter depicts the chivalrous Eraj, a prince who figures prominently in the legendary period of Persian history. From these different examples, it will be seen that although the new form of painting had obtained a foothold, there was little headway made while the country was in the throes of reconstruction; at the same time, the movement was replete with potentialities. On one hand, attached to the Mughal court, there was a small, but very active, group of Persian painters practicing their art according to the traditions of Bihzad, but nevertheless quite prepared to utilize in their pictures anything good they saw in the handiwork of the Indian craftsmen. On the other hand, there were Hindu painters, men who for generations had specialized in wall decoration, but who were ready to adapt the skill acquired by centuries of experience in this method to the production of miniatures in the style approved by the ruling power.
It is evident, therefore, when these facts are taken into consideration, that conditions were ripe for a pronounced forward movement in the development of the graphic arts Only judicious encouragement and intelligent patronage were necessary to stimulate the painters into action, and the Mughal emperor supplied these requirements in a most liberal manner. We have seen Akbar as a mere boy, placed on the insecure throne of his father and confronted with the stupendous task of restoring order in a territory that had long been subject to foreign invasion, internal strife, and civil wars. But fifteen years have elapsed, the boy has become a man, and the country, so loosely held by Babur and Humayun, has, by his genius and untiring effort, been made into a most powerful and stable empire. The need, therefore, for incessant military and administrative vigilance had passed, and Akbar could now find leisure to devote his abilities to the encouragement of learning, and to begin the task of arousing within his subjects an interest in the arts of peace. The methods by which he put this into practice are significant of Akbar's policy as a whole. His attitude generally towards his subjects was entirely the opposite of that of his predecessors, and to this different point of view was due much of his success as an empire builder. Akbar saw what both Babur and Humayun had never seen—the inherent capabilities of the Indian people, their culture, their aspirations, and their ideals. He realized that the failure of his forbears and also of his co-religionists, who had established themselves in various parts of India, to maintain anything like harmonious rule was due in a measure to their lack of sympathy with the Indian races, to a disregard for their manners and customs, their arts and sciences, and their mental outlook. These invaders had founded independent states in which they made their homes; but they contrived at the same time to conduct themselves more as colonists than as permanent residents in the country of their adoption. To the distant territories of their ancestors they instinctively turned, and to those sources they continued to look for inspiration in all branches of learning and intellectual pursuits.
Akbar's Policy
Among such were the pioneers of the Mughal dynasty, Babur and Humayun, whose real interests were centered not in the people of India and their institutions, but in their own native land beyond the Oxus. Towards the blue domes and glittering minarets of Bukhara and Samarqand, with all the refinements that these symbolized, their thoughts were ever directed; and their hopes lay in a return sooner or later to the green valleys and flowered gard gardens of Turan. Thus we find the homesick Babur saying that although 'the empire of Hindustan is extensive, populous, and rich,' it is a country that has few pleasures to recommend it he is particularly severe in his remarks regarding the barrenness of the Agra district, which nevertheless his grandson Akbar subsequently made, with architecture and art, into something approaching the magnificence of their Timurid home. Babur describes it, however, as 'so ugly and detestable' that he was 'quite disgusted with its want of beauty and disagreeable aspect'. As for the people of Hindustan, he specially complains about the indigenous artisans who have 'no genius, no ingenuity or mechanical invention in planning or executing their handicraft works, no skill or knowledge in design or architecture'.
He also condemns their work as 'of the Hindu fashion, without neatness and without order', so that when he required any important constructive work, he was sent as far distant as Constantinople, for the pupils of the celebrated Albanian architect Sinan, to carry out his ideas.
But with Akbar began a new regime. He would have none of this. He detected the futility of it, and early saw that a return to the land of his forefathers was impossible. His instincts told him that Farghana, and all that it meant to him, was forever lost to his line, and that any hope of occupying the throne of the Timurids was but an empty dream. And so it behoved him to snap once and for all the link that held him to his Central Asian home, and to accept the fact that his destiny lay in the plains of Hindustan. Having realized this, his next step was to evolve an administrative policy that utilized the fundamental principles of which were to utilize the utmost natural resources of his empire and the indigenous institutions of its people. Where, in his opinion, these were deficient, his method was to strengthen or supplement them by elements borrowed from other sources, mainly from Persia. This, in brief, was Akbar's constitutive doctrine, and in the same way as he applied it to the reconstructing of the country, so he utilized it in his organization of the literary, artistic, and industrial activities of its people. As soon, therefore, as he had brought his empire into a state of peace, he began to take up the subject of its intellectual well-being. The manner in which he set about this was characteristic of the man. He had heard of the great cities of the Oxus, of Bukhara, and Samarqand, which his Timurid ancestors had built and embellished so that they were the most splendid in the East. And he knew that their architectural magnificence was only an outward sign of the wonders that lay within; They contained libraries and colleges, mosques and council halls, with meeting places and workshops for the accommodation of all the wise men and skilled artificers who were attracted to them by the patronage extended to them by their imperial founders. Akbar saw that if he desired to encourage literature and the arts within his own dominions, he too must plan and build an imperial capital with all the requisite conveniences for discussion, study, and handicrafts that such a scheme demanded. Summoning all the architectural and engineering talent in his rapidly expanding territories, a plan was outlined; and, in 1569, orders were issued for its materialization. Thus came the city of Fathpur Sikri, which to this day, although empty and deserted, stands forth as a monument to the enterprise and artistic genius of its founder. And even before this great work was finished, when its palaces and mosques, library and mint, baths and schools, aqueducts and causeways, were still under construction; While its unfinished walls echoed to the monotonous chant of the oriental laborer, Akbar began his work of reviving all forms of learning under the shadow of this triumph of his master-builders' skill. Here he gradually drew together a concourse of talent—writers, poets, historians, and philosophers, who debated and lectured, studied, and wrote, very often under their imperial patron's own personal supervision. Here took place those religious discussions ultimately giving birth to that climax of unorthodoxy, the Divine Faith, which caused so much dissension among the officials of the State. Here also came the first Christian mission to the court of the 'Great Mughal'—Father Aquaviva and his fellow priests, dusty and travel-stained with their long journey from Goa, but buoyed up with a fervent hope, and bringing with them books and pictures of the West. To this Mecca of learning flocked accomplished men from all parts of the Orient, so that as time progressed and the array of scholarship increased, the royal salon was likened to the famous 'round table' of Sultan Mahmud; and it is recorded that Eastern literature enjoyed a brief though brilliant 'Indian summer' within the marble pavilions of Akbar's sumptuous capital.
Fathpur Sikri
With this revival of learning under the rising power of the Mughal rule in Hindustan came also a revival of the fine arts. Already much had been done to stimulate all forms of craftsmanship by the building of Fathpur Sikri on a magnificent scale. Architects and builders, carvers and decorators, had been brought together from every part of the empire to contribute their skill to the great undertaking, so that the artistic crafts of India began to flourish as they had not done for centuries. And among the arts called in to assist in making Akbar's palaces the most beautiful of their age was that of mural decoration. As soon as the masons' work was finished, expert Painters were called in to design and execute pictures on the interior walls of many of the palace-halls and living-rooms. Remains of these are still visible, and, although much obliterated, they serve to show without any doubt the style of work that was in favor at this period.
None of this decoration is fresco, or even tempera, as was usually the method of the Indian craftsman, but the sandstone surface of the wall was primed with a coat of white pigment, upon which the colors of the picture were directly applied. In much of its character this work resembles the picture illustrated on Plate XI. Some of the scenes are wholly Persian, and might have been painted by an artist of the Safavid school, then flourishing at the neighboring court of Shah Tahmasp. This especially applies to a Persian swain, nearly life-size, playing on a flute in the palace of Raja Birbal, a picture unfortunately too damaged for reproduction. The backgrounds of many of the subjects, containing much fanciful architecture, are also from the same source. On the other hand, no small amount of the painting, as far as can be judged from the preserved fragments, is characteristically Indian, and was clearly the work of Hindu mural decorators employed for this purpose. Together these remains, although now almost effaced, are of great value in determining the state of the art of painting in the year 1575, which may be accepted as approximately the date when they were executed. They show that in all probability Persian and Indian artists were employed in decorating the walls of Fathpur Sikri, but that each class of workmen practiced their craft more or less independently. Occasionally they borrowed elements from one another, but as a whole the two arts were working on parallel lines, and had not yet begun to show any real signs of amalgamation.
It seems more than likely that from the mural decoration of Fathpur Sikri, Akbar conceived the idea of reviving the pictorial art of India by means of a properly organized school of painting. As we have seen, something of this kind in a small way had already been in existence since Humayun's time at the Mughal court; but in the new capital, the first steps were taken to put the art of painting on a suitable footing by creating a special department for its encouragement. From his earliest days, Akbar had shown a decided liking for this form of expression. He had been encouraged to do so by his father, for, as we have shown previously, both Humayun and his son took lessons in painting under the Persian artist Khwajah Abdus Samad. History does not often record a prince of royal blood actually practicing with the brush itself, an attitude of beneficent patronage being generally considered sufficient, but Akbar and his father were both more than usually interested in pictures 'From his earliest youth,' writes Akbar's historian Abu'l Fazl, 'His Majesty has shown a great predilection for this art, and gives it every encouragement, as he looks upon it as a means, both of study and amusement.' Akbar's own remarks on the subject, made to a gathering of his courtiers, and written down by the same chronicler, are still more pregnant. 'There are many that hate painting; but such men I dislike. It appears to me as if a painter had quite peculiar means of recognizing God; for a painter in sketching anything that has life, and in devising its limbs, one after the other, must come to feel that he cannot bestow individuality upon his work, and is thus forced to think of God, the Giver of life, and will thus increase in knowledge.' This very carefully composed expression of opinion was recorded, not so much to emphasize Akbar's appreciation of painting, but to explain to his more orthodox followers his reasons for setting at naught the Prophet's law relating to the representation of living, especially human, forms. Moreover, so that there might be no misapprehension on this point, the historian himself introduces it by a statement of his own, specially intended to prepare the reader for the particular view quoted above. 'I have to notice,' Abu'l Fazl writes, 'that the observing of the figures of objects and the making of likenesses of them, which are often looked upon as an idle occupation, are, for a well-regulated mind, a source of wisdom and an antidote against the poison of ignorance.' And here follows a sentence which points directly to the cause of these somewhat elaborate reflections: 'Bigoted followers of the letter of the law are hostile to the art of painting; but their eyes now see the truth.
State School of Painting
It may be contended that with such preponderance of Indians in the school—for so far only two foreign artists have been named—the art of painting would show only small traces of Persian influence, and that it would be almost entirely indigenous in character. At one time this was undoubtedly the case, but as the school progressed, the Persian personnel was strengthened by the arrival of another distinguished artist at the Mughal court. This was Farrukh Beg, who joined Akbar's service around the year 1585. Farrukh was a Kalmack from Central Asia and brought with him a style of painting that was not only reminiscent of Mongolia and China, but which showed a marked individuality. Although his influence on the school of Akbar was to affect mainly its later period, his work made a distinct impression on the art of painting as a whole. An early picture by this artist is reproduced on Plate XIV, and shows how entirely foreign in its first stage. It is an illustration from a book, probably the Baburnama, as it depicts a court function with the Emperor Babur seated on his throne and surrounded by a number of friends and officials. The picture has every appearance of having been painted in India very shortly after the artist's arrival there, and may be dated about 1586. On the other hand, it might have been executed a few years earlier, at Kabul while Farrukh was working under Akbar's brother, Mirza Muhammad Hakim, upon whose death the painter was taken into the emperor's service. In either circumstance, it is essentially a foreign production; having all the characteristics of the Timurid-Safavid style, except that the treatment of some of the figures in the foreground is suggestively Indian. As his subsequent pictures show, Farrukh was prepared to borrow from the art of India as much as he was also in a position to give.
Farrukh Beg; Aqa Riza
About the same time that the Kalmack appears at the capital of the Mughals, another Persian artist arrived in Hindustan. This was Aqa Riza, who seems to have taken employment under Prince Salim, the heir-apparent to the Mughal throne. Salim, when he became Emperor Jahangir, while eulogizing in his memoirs the work of one of his court artists, Abu'l-Hasan, incidentally adds that this painter's 'father, Aqa Riza, of Herat, at the time I was prince, joined my service'.¹ The Aqa Riza here referred to can be no other than a well-known member of the Safavid school of artists, who made a reputation in Persia during the later years of Shah Tahmasp's reign. Jahangir, a great connoisseur, gives the painter from Herat some praise, but does not consider him quite equal to his son, Abu'l-Hasan, who ultimately became one of the leading artists of this monarch's reign Aqa Riza must, however, have been an elderly man when he came to India, and probably his hand had begun to lose its cunning. But in his day, trained by the famous Mir Ali of Herat, he was responsible for some very fine work, although he was renowned more for his copies of old masters than for any original work. In this particular line, however, he was credited with unsurpassed charm in drawing and color. A picture, one of a small series found in India, and possibly from the brush of this painter is reproduced on Plate III, Fig. 2. It is in the Bukhara style, but Aqa Riza at one period of his career resided in that city, and no doubt imbibed some of the distinctive character of its art. The work of such a man must have had little influence on the work of the Mughal school at this formative stage of its development, and when it is understood that he settled down in India and trained up a son to carry on the family tradition during the reign of Akbar's successor, the influence of his style of painting would be retained.
In drawing attention to the foreign artists at the Mughal court, it should be emphasized that only those are named of whom definite records are available. It is more than probable that there were others, of lesser repute, who were attracted thither by the emperor's unbounded patronage, although of these no accounts have been preserved. But apart from the personal element from Persia in the school, there was another and equally important source in the country, also of foreign origin, from which the Indian artists undoubtedly drew some of their inspiration. This was the imperial library of the Mughals. By the time Akbar's empire in India was an accom- plished fact, this institution already contained manuscripts and illuminated books of unparalleled value, so that it claimed to be not only a library but a picture gallery. The Mughals, like all the Timurids, were great bibliophiles. Babur set the example, and began by acquiring historic volumes whenever his unsettled circumstances would permit. It is related that on the fall of the Timurid dynasty, after the plunder of Herat by the Turkomans, and the destruction of Samarqand by the uncouth Uzbegs, such was his affection for books and pictures that amid the wreck of these cities he managed to rescue many priceless manuscripts from the ruined habitations of his ancestors. These he took with him to Hindustan, there to form the nucleus of a library that, under his successors, was to expand into magnificent proportions. Humayun, whose interest in books was instinctive, also added to the collection, and each member of the dynasty made his contribution whenever he found himself able to do so. To Akbar, however, the great mass of the collection was mainly due, and at the time that he was gathering around him much literary and artistic talent, these books and pictures were most frequently used. Some idea of the contents of the library can be gained from the rare examples bearing the imperial seals which have survived, and it is not difficult to visualize the contents of this store- house of literature and art, and to appreciate its educational value to the scholar or the painter. In its illustrative and pictorial sections alone it appears to have been singularly rich, and, under the able superintendence of Maktub Khan, who, as we learn, was in sole charge of both the library and the picture gallery, made the institution well-administered.
The Mughal Imperial Library
Here the painter could study examples of the primi-tives of his art—Arabian manuscripts from Baghdad, which in their rich but crude embellishments showed traces of a connection with the mosaic saints of the Byzantine church. From these, he would pass to volumes from a Mongol source, whose pictures of battles and feasts, although barbaric in their subject matter, betrayed in their refined treatment the unmistakable influence of the art of China under the Yuan dynasty. Associated with these, but a little more advanced in style, would be Timurid manuscripts, whose decorated pages showed the method of painting that prevailed under the ancestors of his own Mughal patrons And, probably, most studied of all would be the collection of books containing illustrations by the Safavid school of painters, some of whom were still living in Akbar's time and carrying on their art in the studios of Tabriz, Shiraz, and Herat. Among the treasured volumes in this section, none would be more prized than those containing the work of that small group of Persian artists who, even then, were being regarded as the great masters of the craft. Bihzad, Sultan Muhammad, Agha Mirak, and Muzaffar Ali were at this early date names to conjure with, and their pictures to be referred to with the sincerest admiration. All these famous artists were represented in the royal collection at the Mughal capital. One volume alone, which has been preserved to this day and still bears the imperial seals of the dynasty, boasts twelve pictures of the Persian school, eight of them the handiwork of the illustrious Bihzad himself. With this wealth of artistic material at their service, Akbar's court painters were provided with every facility for a study of the historic and contemporary examples of their art, and that they were encouraged to do so by their royal patron is also recorded. For Akbar ordered his artists to make copies of these pictures, and to endeavor, if possible, to excel them, in his zeal to improve the standard of their work. It is no exaggeration, therefore, to say that what the National Gallery is to the English art student, so was the imperial library of the Mughals to the artists of their time.
The golden period of Akbar's school of painting was that in which the artists connected with it were working at Fathpur Sikri, when the emperor was holding his court there, surrounded by those whose scholarship was to bring such lustre to his name. Beginning around 1570, this school continued for fifteen years, when, in 1585, Akbar left the city he had built so lavishly, and, except for one flying visit In 1601, he never returned to take up his residence there again. Gradually, the life of Fathpur Sikri departed, and although its majesty was temporarily revived by the occasional sojourn of a subsequent monarch within its columned halls, it soon sank into silence and decay. For the remaining twenty years of his reign, Akbar made his headquarters principally at Lahore; and, although a few of the state artists were generally in attendance there, the majority of them were transferred to Agra to carry on their work in the palace-fort of that city. It is recorded that in his new capital in the Punjab, the emperor employed some of his personal staff of artists in their favorite art of wall decoration, for the interior of the Lahore palace was freely ornamented with colored scenes, some of which have been referred to by European writers In particular, in the rooms of the zenana the subjects appear to have been of an unusual order, as they are stated to have consisted of 'many pictures of angels, as well as fearsome ones of devils with long tails, horns, &c.' Even from this meagre account, which is by Fitch, one of the first Englishmen to arrive at the Mughal capital, it is just possible to identify the scene here alluded to as one not uncommon in Persian painting, and usually described as the visit of the Queen of Sheba to the court of King Solomon. In the Persian conception of this episode, winged female figures always occupy the center of the composition, while around are gathered a number of unearthly creatures whose appearance tallies exactly with the brief but graphic note by this early traveler. The inference derived from this is that the mural decorations at Lahore, at this later date, were similar to those executed previously at Fathpur Sikri, and that the Persian style still found favor where the painter's art was applied to the surface of the palace walls. Where, however, the painter's skill was utilized in the illustration of books, and his designs were on a much smaller scale, less of the foreign element is observable. It seems more than probable, therefore, that the art of painting continued to progress on parallel lines, the Persian and Indian styles being employed separately as two distinct methods of expression, until the death of Akbar, in the year 1605.