  CONTENTS. Dynasties—Tomb of Mohammad Ghaus, Gualior—Mosque at Futtehpore Sikri—Akbar’s Tomb, Secundra—Palace at Delhi—The Taje Mehal—The MÛti Musjid—Mosque at Delhi—The Imambara, Lucknow—Tomb of late Nawab, Junaghur. CHRONOLOGY.
Till very recently, a description of the style introduced by the Mogul emperors would have been considered a complete history of Mahomedan architecture in India. It is the style which was described by Roe and Bernier, and all subsequent travellers. It was rendered familiar to the public in Europe by the drawings of Daniell in the beginning of this century, and, since Agra and Delhi became practically British cities, their buildings have been described, drawn, and photographed till they have become almost as well known as any found in Europe. It will take a very long time before even photography will render the mosques or tombs of such cities as Ahmedabad or Bijapur as familiar or as easily understood. Yet it is, perhaps, true to assert that the buildings of other dynasties, commencing with the mosques at the Kutub and at Ajmir, and continuing till the last Dekhani dynasty was destroyed by Aurungzebe, make up a whole as extensive and more interesting, in a historical point of view, than even all that was done by the Moguls. On the other hand, however, there is a unity in the works of that dynasty, and a completeness in their history, which makes the study of their art peculiarly fascinating, and some of their buildings will bear comparison, in some respects, with any architectural productions in any part of the world. Their buildings, however, are so original, and so unlike any of the masterpieces of art that we are generally acquainted with, that it is almost impossible to institute any comparison between them which shall be satisfactory. How, for instance, can we compare the Parthenon with the Taje? They are buildings of nearly equal size and magnificence, both in white marble, both Though their value, consequently, may be nearly the same, their forms are so essentially different that they hardly look like productions of the same art; and in an art so essentially conventional as architecture always is and must be, it requires long familiarity with any new form, and a knowledge of its origin and use, that can only be acquired by constant study, which makes it very difficult for a stranger to realise the real beauty that often underlies even the strangest forms. When, however, these difficulties are conquered, it will probably be found that there are few among the Eastern styles that deserve more attention, and would better repay any study that might be bestowed upon them, than the architecture of the Moguls. Some little interruptions are experienced at the beginning of the narrative from the interpolation of the reigns of Shere Shah and his son Selim in the reign of Humayun. He was an Afghan by descent and an Indian by birth, and, had he been left to follow his own devices, would, no doubt, have built in the style of architecture used at Agra and Delhi before his countrymen were disturbed by the Mogul invasion. We have, it is true, very little to tell us what that style was during the 170 years that elapsed between the death of Tugluck Shah and the first invasion of Baber, but it seems to have been singularly plain and solid, and very unlike the florid art introduced by the Moguls, and practised by Shere Shah and his son apparently in rivalry to the new master of Hindustan. So little difference is there, however, between the architecture of Shere Shah There is, again, a little difficulty and confusion in our having no examples of the style as practised by Baber and Humayun. The well-known tomb of the latter king was certainly built by his son Akbar; Baber was buried near Cabul, and no building known to be his has yet been identified in India. Yet that he did build is certain. In his own ‘Memoirs’ he tells us, “In Agra alone, and of the stone-cutters belonging to that place only, I every day employed on my palaces 680 persons; and in Agra, Sikri, Biana, Dhulpur, Gualior, and Koel, there were every day employed on my works 1491 stone-cutters.” It is probable that before long very considerable light will be thrown upon the origin of the style which the Moguls introduced into India, from an examination of the buildings erected at Samarcand by Timur a hundred years before Baber’s time (A.D. 1393-1404). Now that the city is in the hands of the Russians, it is accessible to Europeans. Its buildings have been drawn and photographed, but not yet described so as to be available for scientific purposes, but sufficiently so to indicate the direction in which light may be expected. Though a frightful savage in most respects, Timur was possessed of a true Turki love for noble architecture; and though he Shere Shah, A.D. 1539-1545. Certainly one of the most remarkable men who ever ruled in northern India, though his reign was limited to only five years’ duration; and during that brief space, disturbed by all the troubles incident to a usurpation, he left his impress on every branch of the administration. The revenue system, the police, the army administration, all the great reforms, in fact, which Akbar so successfully carried out, were commenced, and to some extent perfected, by this usurper, as the Moguls call him. In architecture, too, which most concerns us here, he certainly pointed out the path by which his successor reached such eminence. The most perfect of his buildings that I am acquainted with is the mosque in the Purana KÌlah at Delhi. The walls of this place were repaired by Humayun in A.D. 1533, and I do not feel quite sure he had not something to do with the mosque. According to the latest authorities, however, it is said to have been built—I have no doubt it was finished—by Shere Shah in A.D. 1541. In the citadel at Agra there stands—or at least stood when I was Judging from the fragment that remains, and the accounts received on the spot, this palace must have gone far to justify the eulogium more than once passed on the works of these Pathans—that “they built like giants, and finished like goldsmiths:” for the stones seem to have been of enormous size, and the details of most exquisite finish. It has passed away, however, like many another noble building of its class, under the ruthless barbarism of our rule. Mosques we have generally spared, and sometimes tombs, because they were unsuited to our economic purposes, and it would not answer to offend the religious feelings of the natives. But when we deposed the kings and appropriated their revenues, there was no one to claim their now useless abodes of splendour. It was consequently found cheaper either to pull them down, or use them as residences or arsenals, than to keep them up, so that very few now remain for the admiration of posterity. The tomb of Shere Shah has been already described (ante, p. 516), as it is essentially Pathan in style. It was erected at his native place in Behar, to the south of the Ganges, far from Mogul influence at that time, and in the style of severe simplicity that characterised the works of his race between the times of Tugluck and those of Behlol Lodi (A.D. 1450-1488), the last really independent king of his line. It is not quite clear how much of the tomb was built by himself, or how much by his son Selim, who certainly finished it. Selim also built the Selimghur on an island in the Jumna, to which Shah Jehan afterwards added his palace in New Delhi. Whether, however, he erected any buildings inside is not certain—nothing at least now remains of any importance. Generally he seems to have carried on and completed his father’s buildings, and between them they have left a group of architectural remains which, if collected together and illustrated, would form an interesting chapter in the history of Indian-Mahomedan styles. Akbar, 1556-1605. It would require a volume to describe all the buildings erected by this remarkable man during his long reign of forty-nine years, and a hundred plates would hardly suffice to make known all their peculiarities. Had Akbar been content to follow in the lines of the style invented by the Pathans and perfected by Shere Shah, it might be easy enough to follow the sequence, but nothing in his character is so remarkable as the spirit of tolerance that pervaded all his acts. He seems to have had as sincere a love and admiration for his Hindu subjects as he had for those of his own faith, and whether from policy or inclination, to have cherished their arts as much as he did those that belonged exclusively to his own people. The consequence is a mixture throughout all his works of two styles, often more picturesque than correct, which might, in the course of another half century, have been blended into a completely new style if persevered in. The spirit of tolerance, however, died with him. There is no trace of Hinduism in the works of Jehangir or Shah Jehan, and Aurungzebe would have been horrified at the suggestion that arts of the infidels could influence anything he did. One probably of his earliest works was the mausoleum, which he erected over the remains of his father, Humayun, at Delhi. Though it certainly was finished by Akbar, it most probably was designed and commenced by his father; for, as frequently remarked in the previous pages of this work, the great architectural peculiarity of the Tartar or Mongolian races is their tomb-building propensity, in which they are so strongly distinguished from the Aryan, and also from the great Semitic families, with whom they divide the greater part of the habitable globe. Nowhere is this more forcibly illustrated than in India—where the tombs of the Pathans and Moguls form a complete and unbroken series of architectural monuments from the first years of the Moslem invasion to the present hour. The tombs of the Pathans are less splendid than those of the Moguls; but nevertheless the whole series is singularly interesting, the tombs being far more numerous than the mosques. Generally speaking, also, they are more artistic in design, and frequently not only larger but more splendidly decorated than the buildings exclusively devoted to prayer. The princes of the Tartar races, in carrying out their love of tombs, made it the practice to build their own in their lifetime, as all people The usual process for the erection of these structures is for the king or noble who intends to provide himself a tomb to enclose a garden outside the city walls, generally with high crenellated walls, and with one or more splendid gateways; and in the centre of this he erects a square or octagonal building, crowned by a dome, and in the more splendid examples with smaller and dome-roofed apartments on four of the sides or angles, the other four being devoted to entrances. This building is generally situated on a lofty square terrace, from which radiate four broad alleys, generally with marble-paved canals ornamented with fountains; the angular spaces are planted with cypresses and other evergreens and fruit-trees, making up one of those formal but beautiful gardens so characteristic of the East. During the lifetime of the founder, the central building is called a Barrah Durrie, or festal hall, and is used as a place of recreation and feasting by him and his friends. At his death its destination is changed—the founder’s remains are interred beneath the central dome. Sometimes his favourite wife lies beside him; but more generally his family and relations are buried beneath the collateral domes. When once used as a place of burial, its vaults never again resound with festive mirth. The care of the building is handed over to priests and cadis, who gain a scanty subsistence by the sale of the fruits of the garden, or the alms of those who come to visit the last resting-place of their friend or master. Perfect silence takes the place of festivity and mirth. The beauty of the surrounding objects combines with the repose of the place to produce an effect as graceful as it is solemn and appropriate. Though the tombs, with the remains of their enclosures, are so numerous throughout all India, the Taje Mehal, at Agra, is almost the only tomb that retains its garden in anything like its pristine beauty, and there is not perhaps in the whole world a scene where nature and art so successfully combine to produce a perfect work of art as within the precincts of this far-famed mausoleum. The tomb of Humayun Shah, the first of the Moguls who was buried in India, still stands tolerably entire among the ruins of Old Delhi, of which indeed it forms the principal and most striking object. It stands well on a lofty square platform, adorned with arches, whose piers are ornamented with an inlay of white marble. The tomb itself is an octagonal apartment, of considerable dimensions, crowned by a Humayun’s tomb, however, is so well known from drawings and photographs, that, in order to illustrate the architecture of the day, it may be preferable to take the contemporary tomb of Mohammad Ghaus at Gualior, which certainly was erected during the early part of Akbar’s reign, and is a singularly interesting example of the tombs of the period. It is a square, measuring 100 ft. each way, exclusive of the hexagonal towers, which are attached to the angles (Woodcut No. 327). The chamber of the tomb itself is a hall 43 ft. square, with the angles cut off by pointed arches so as to form an octagon, on which the dome rests. Around this square building is a gallery, 20 ft. wide between the piers, enclosed on all sides by a screen of the most exquisite tracery in pierced stone-work with a projecting porch on each face (Woodcut No. 328). On comparing this with the tomb of Shere Shah at Sasseram, which in many respects it resembles to a considerable extent, it will be seen that it marks a considerable progress in tomb-building during even the short period that elapsed between the erection of the two. There is an inherent weakness in an octagonal form as compared with the square, that even the Pathans never quite successfully conquered; and the outward screen of trellis-work is far more elegant than the open arcade of the Sasseram tomb. Something may be due to the fact that Gualior was a city where building of an ornamental character had long been going on, and where consequently a superior school of masons and architects may always have existed, while Sasseram was a remote country village, where these advantages were unknown. But be this as it may, the progress is such in so short a time, that we can only ascribe it to the invigorating touch of Akbar’s genius, which was afterwards to work such wonders. One of the most remarkable and characteristic of Akbar’s buildings is the old or Red Palace in the fort, so called from being constructed entirely of red sandstone, unfortunately not a very good quality, and consequently much of its ornament has peeled off. It is a square building, measuring 249 ft. by 260 ft. In the centre is a courtyard, 71 ft. by 72 ft., on either side of which are two halls facing one another. The largest, 62 ft. by 37 ft., has a flat ceiling of stone, divided into panels, and supported by struts of purely Hindu design, very similar to those used in the palaces of MÂn Sing and Vicramaditya at Gualior. Every feature around this court is indeed of pure Hindu architecture. No arches appear anywhere, but the horizontal style of construction everywhere. The ornamentation, too, which is carved on all the flat surfaces, is of a class used by Akbar, but not found in the buildings of others. Indeed, throughout this palace arches are used so sparingly, and Hindu forms and Hindu construction prevail to such an extent, that it would hardly be out of place at Chittore or Gualior, though it still bears that impress of vigour and originality that he and he only knew how to impress on all his works. It is, however, at Futtehpore Sikri that Akbar must be judged of as a builder. During the whole of his reign it was his favourite residence. He apparently was the first to occupy the spot, and apparently the last, at least, to build there, no single building being identified as having been erected by any of his successors. Akbar seems to have had no settled plan when he commenced building there. The original part of the building seems to be the Khas Mehal, a square block of building measuring about 260 ft. each way, and therefore of about the same dimensions as the Red Palace in the fort at Agra. Its courtyard, however, is larger, about 170 ft. each way, and the buildings that surround it very inferior in richness of design and ornamentation. This, however, is far more than compensated for by the courts and pavilions that he added from time to time. There is the Dewanni Khas, or throne-room, a square building with a throne consisting of an enormous flower-like bracket, supported on a richly-carved pillar; [Image unavailable.] 329. Carved Pillars in the Sultana’s Kiosk, Futtehpore Sikri. (From a Photograph.) The glory, however, of Futtehpore Sikri is its mosque, which is It was always manifest that to give a large building a door at all in proportion to its dimensions was, to say the least of it, very inconvenient. Men are only 6 ft. high, and they do not want portals through which elephants might march. The Greeks never ventured, The Gothic architects tried, by splaying their deeply-embowed doorways, and by ornamenting them richly with carving and sculpture, to give them the dignity that was indispensable for their situation without unnecessarily increasing the size of the openings. It was left, however, for the Saracenic architects completely to get over the difficulty. They placed their portals—one, or three, or five, of very moderate dimensions—at the back of a semi-dome. This last feature thus became the porch or portico, and its dimensions became those of the portal, wholly irrespective of the size of the opening. No one, for instance, looking at this gateway can mistake that it is a doorway and that only, and no one thinks of the size of the openings which are provided at its base. The semi-dome is the modulus of the design, and its scale that by which the imagination measures its magnificence. The same system pervades almost all the portals of the age and style, and always with a perfectly satisfactory result—sometimes even more satisfactory than in this instance, though it may be in less proportionate dimensions. The principle seems the best that has yet been hit upon, and, when that is right, failure is as difficult, as it is to achieve success when the principle of the design is wrong. Taking it altogether, this palace at Futtehpore Sikri is a romance in stone, such as few—very few—are to be found anywhere; and it is a reflex of the mind of the great man who built it more distinct than can easily be obtained from any other source. Allahabad was a more favourite residence of this monarch than Agra, perhaps as much so as even Futtehpore Sikri; but the English having appropriated the fort, its glories have been nearly obliterated. The most beautiful thing was the pavilion of the ChalÎs SitÛn, or forty pillars, so called from its having that number on the principal floor, disposed in two concentric octagonal ranges, one internal of sixteen pillars, the other outside of twenty-four. Above this, supported by the inner colonnade, was an upper range of the same number of pillars crowned by a dome. This building has entirely disappeared, its materials being wanted to repair the fortifications. The great hall, however, still remains, represented in the annexed woodcut (No. 332). It is now the arsenal; a brick wall has been run up Perhaps, however, the most characteristic of Akbar’s buildings is the tomb he commenced to erect for himself at Secundra, near Agra, which is quite unlike any other tomb built in India either before or since, and of a design borrowed, as I believe, from a Hindu, or more correctly, Buddhist, model. It stands in an extensive garden, still kept up, approached by one noble gateway. In the centre of this garden, on a raised platform, stands the tomb itself, of a pyramidal form. The lower storey measures 320 ft. each way, exclusive of the angle towers. It is 30 ft. in height, and pierced by ten great arches on each face, and with a larger entrance adorned with a mosaic of marble in the centre (Woodcuts Nos. 333, 334). On this terrace stands another far more ornate, measuring 186 ft. on each side, and 14 ft. 9 in. in height. A third and fourth, of similar design, and respectively 15 ft. 2 in. and 14 ft. 6 in. high, stand on [Image unavailable.] 333. Plan of Akbar’s Tomb at Secundra. (From a Plan by the Author.) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in. At first sight it might appear that the design of this curious and exceptional tomb was either a caprice of the monarch who built it, or an importation from abroad (Woodcut No. 335). My impression, on the contrary, is, that it is a direct imitation of some such building as the old Buddhist viharas which may have existed, applied to other purposes in Akbar’s time. Turning back, for instance, to Woodcuts Nos. 66 and 181, representing the great rath at Mahavellipore, it will [Image unavailable.] 334. Diagram Section a truncated and unmeaning aspect. The total height of the building now is a little more than 100 ft. to the top of the angle pavilions; and a central dome 30 or 40 ft. higher, which is the proportion that the base gives, seems just what is wanted to make this tomb as beautiful in outline and in proportion as it is in detail. Had it been so completed, it certainly would have ranked next the Taje among Indian mausolea. 335. View of Akbar’s Tomb, Secundra. (From a Photograph.) Jehangir, A.D. 1605-1628. When we consider how much was done by his father and his son, it is rather startling to find how little Jehangir contributed to the architectural magnificence of India. Partly this may be owing to his not having the same passion for building which characterised these two great monarchs; but partly also to his having made Lahore the capital during his reign, and to his having generally resided there in preference to Agra or Delhi. The great mosque there, however, which was built by him, seems to be equal in magnificence to that built by Shah Jehan at Delhi. This mosque, however, seems to have been surpassed by one erected in the city of Lahore by his vizir. It is in the Persian style, covered with enamelled tiles, and resplendent in colours, but not very graceful in form. His tomb, in which he lies buried with his queen, the imperious Nurjehan, was worthy of its builder, but has been used as a quarry by the Sikhs, and half the splendour of the temple at Amritsir is due to marbles plundered from this mausoleum. The palace, too, which he erected, was worthy of his other buildings, but it has suffered as much as the rest. It has been used as a habitation from that time to this, and so altered, to adapt it to the wants of its successive occupants, that little of its original form remains. We have, however, no measurements and no information about these monuments which would enable us to speak with any confidence either regarding them, or the other buildings of that city, which seems to owe its principal splendour to the reign of this monarch. At the other end of his dominions also he built a splendid new capital at Dacca, in supersession to Gaur, and adorned it with several buildings of considerable dimensions. These, however, were principally in brick-work, covered with stucco, and with only pillars and brackets in stone. Most of them, consequently, are in a state of ruinous decay; marvellously picturesque, it must be confessed, peering through the luxuriant vegetation that is tearing them to pieces, but hardly worthy to be placed in competition with the stone and marble buildings of the more northern capitals. There is one building—the tomb known as that of Eti-mad- It seems now to be ascertained that in the early part of the 17th century Italian artists, principally, apparently from Florence, were introduced into India, and taught the Indians the art of inlaying marble with precious stones. It has been doubted whether this new art was really a foreign introduction, or whether it had not been invented by the natives of India themselves. The question never, probably, would have arisen had one of the fundamental principles of architecture been better understood. When we, for instance, having no art of our own, copy a Grecian or Roman pillar, or an Italian mediÆval arch in detail, we do so literally, without any attempt to adapt it to our uses or climate; but when a people having a style of their own wish to adopt any feature or process belonging to any other style, they do not copy but adapt it to their uses; and it is this distinction between adopting and adapting that makes all the difference. We would have allowed the Italians to introduce with their mosaics all the details of their Cinque-cento architecture. The Indians set them to reproduce, with their new materials and processes, the patterns which the architects of Akbar had been in the habit of carving in stone or of inlaying in marble. Every form was adapted to the place where it was to be used. The style remained the same, so did all the details; the materials only were changed, and the patterns only so far as was necessary to adapt them to the smaller and more refined materials that were to be used. As one of the first, the tomb of Eti-mad-Doulah was certainly one of the least successful specimens of its class. The patterns do not quite fit the places where they are put, and the spaces are not always those best suited for this style of decoration. Altogether I cannot help fancying that the Italians had more to do with the design of this building than was at all desirable, and they are to blame for its want of grace. But, on the other hand, the beautiful tracery of the pierced marble slabs of its windows, which resemble those of Selim Chisti’s tomb at Futtehpore Sikri, the beauty of its white marble walls, and the rich colour of its decorations, make up so beautiful a whole, that it is only on comparing it with the works of Shah Jehan that we are justified in finding fault. Shah Jehan, A.D. 1628-1658. It would be difficult to point out in the whole history of architecture any change so sudden as that which took place between the style of Akbar and that of his grandson Shah Jehan—nor any Nowhere is the contrast between the two styles more strongly marked than in the palace of Agra—from the red stone palace of Akbar, with its rich sculptures and square Hindu construction, a door opens into the white marble court of the hareem of Shah Jehan, with all its feeble prettiness, but at the same time marked with that peculiar elegance which is found only in the East. The court is not large, 170 ft. by 235 ft., but the whole is finished with the most elaborate care. Three sides of this are occupied by the residences of the ladies, not remarkable for size, nor, in their present state, for architectural beauty; but the fourth, overhanging the river, is occupied by three white marble pavilions of singular elegance, though it is not easy now to see them, some English officer having pitched upon the principal one as a residence, and having in consequence covered the polished marble and elegant arabesques of flowers inlaid in precious stones with thick coatings of that whitewash which was indispensable to his idea of comfort and elegant simplicity. As in most Moorish palaces, the baths on one side of this court were the most elegant and elaborately decorated apartments in the palace. The baths have been destroyed, but the walls and roofs still show the elegance with which they were adorned. Behind this, in the centre of the palace, is a great court, 500 ft. by 370 ft. surrounded by arcades, and approached at the opposite ends through a succession of beautiful courts opening into one another by gateways of great magnificence. One one side of this court is the great hall of the palace—the Dewanni Aum—208 ft. by 76 ft., supported by three ranges of arcades of exquisite beauty. It is open on three sides, and with a niche for the throne at the back. This, like the hall at Allahabad, is now an arsenal, and reduced to as near a similarity as possible to those in our dockyards. One of the most picturesque features about this palace is a marble pavilion, in two storeys, that surmounts one of the circular bastions on the river face, between the hareem and the Dewanni Khas. It looks of an earlier style than that of Shah Jehan, and if Jehangir built anything here it is this. On a smaller scale, it occupies the same place here that the ChalÎs SitÛn did in the palace at Allahabad; and exemplifies, even more than in their larger buildings, the extreme elegance and refinement of those who designed these palaces. Palace at Delhi. Though the palace at Agra is perhaps more picturesque, and historically certainly more interesting, than that of Delhi, the latter had the immense advantage of being built at once, on one uniform plan, and by the most magnificent, as a builder, of all the sovereigns of India. It had, however, one little disadvantage, in being somewhat later than Agra. All Shah Jehan’s buildings there, seem to have been finished before he commenced the erection of the new city of Shah Jehanabad with its palace, and what he built at Agra is soberer, and in somewhat better taste than at Delhi. Notwithstanding these defects, the palace at Delhi is, or rather was, the most magnificent palace in the East—perhaps in the world—and the only one, at least in India, which enables us to understand what the arrangements of a complete palace were when deliberately undertaken and carried out on one uniform plan (Woodcut No. 336). The palace at Delhi, which is situated like that at Agra close to the edge of the Jumna, is a nearly regular parallelogram, with the angles slightly canted off, and measures 1600 ft. east and west, by 3200 ft. north and south, exclusive of the gateways. It is surrounded on all sides by a very noble wall of red sandstone, relieved at intervals by towers surmounted by kiosks. The principal entrance faces the Chandni Chowk, a noble wide street, nearly a mile long, planted with two rows of trees, and with a stream of water running down its centre. Entering within its deeply-recessed portal, you find yourself beneath the vaulted hall, the sides of which are in two storeys, and with an octagonal break in the centre. This hall, which is 375 ft. in length over all, has very much the effect of the nave of a gigantic Gothic cathedral, and forms the noblest entrance known to belong to any existing palace. At its inner end this hall opened into a courtyard, 350 ft. square, from the centre of which a noble bazaar extended right and left, like the hall, two storeys in height, but not vaulted. One of these led to the Delhi gate, the other, which I believe was never quite finished, to the garden. In front, at the entrance, was the This range of buildings, extending 1600 ft. east and west, divided the palace into two nearly equal halves. In the northern division of it were a series of small courts, surrounded by buildings apparently appropriated to the use of distinguished guests; and in one of them overhanging the river stood the celebrated Dewanni Khas (D), or private audience hall—if not the most beautiful, certainly the most highly ornamented of all Shah Jehan’s buildings. It is larger certainly, and far richer in ornament than that at Agra, though hardly so elegant in design; but nothing can exceed the beauty of the inlay of precious stones with which it is adorned, or the general poetry of the design. It is round the roof of this hall that the famous inscription runs: “If there is a heaven on earth it is this, it is this,” which may safely be rendered into the sober English assertion, that no palace now existing in the world possesses an apartment of such singular elegance as this. Beyond this to the northward were the gardens of the palace, laid out in the usual formal style of the East, but adorned with fountains and little pavilions and kiosks of white marble, that render these so beautiful and so appropriate to such a climate. The whole of the area between the central range of buildings to the south, and eastward from the bazaar, measuring about 1000 ft. Of the public parts of the palace all that now remains is the entrance hall, the Nobut Khana, the Dewanni Aum and Khas, and the Rung Mehal—now used as a mess-room—and one or two small pavilions. They are the gems of the palace, it is true, but without the courts and corridors connecting them they lose all their meaning and more than half their beauty. Taje Mehal. It is a pleasure to turn from this destroyed and desecrated palace to the Taje Mehal, which even more, perhaps, than the palace was always the chef-d’oeuvre of Shah Jehan’s reign (Woodcut No. 337). It, too, has been fortunate in attracting the attention of the English, who have paid sedulous attention to it for some time past, and keep it now, with its gardens, in a perfect state of substantial repair. No building in India has been so often drawn and photographed as this, or more frequently described; but, with all this, it is almost impossible to convey an idea of it to those who have not seen it, not only because of its extreme delicacy, and beauty of material employed in its construction, but from the complexity of its design. If the Taje were only the tomb itself, it might be described, but the platform on which it stands, with its tall minarets, is a work of art in itself. Beyond this are the two wings, one of which is a mosque, which anywhere else would be considered an important building. This group of buildings forms one side of a garden court 880 ft. square; and beyond this again an outer court, of the same width but only half the depth. This is entered by three gateways of its own, and contains in the centre of its inner wall the great gateway of the garden court, a worthy pendant to the Taje itself. The plan and section (Woodcuts Nos. 338, 339) explain sufficiently the general arrangement and structural peculiarities of the tomb or principal building of the group. The raised platform on which it stands is 18 ft. high, faced with white marble, and exactly 313 ft. square. At each corner of this terrace stands a minaret 133 ft. [Image unavailable.] 338. Plan of Taje Mehal, Agra. (From a Plan by the Author.) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in. in height, and of the most exquisite proportions, more beautiful, perhaps, than any other in India. In the centre of this marble platform stands the mausoleum, a square of 186 ft., with the corners cut off to the extent of 33 ft. 9 in. The centre of this is occupied by the principal dome, 58 ft. in diameter and 80 ft. in height, under which is an enclosure formed by a screen of trellis-work of white marble, a chef-d’oeuvre of elegance in Indian art. In every angle of the building is a small domical apartment of two storeys in height, 26 ft. 8 in. in diameter, and these are connected, as shown in the plan, by various passages and halls. The light to the central apartment is admitted only through double screens of white marble trellis-work of the most exquisite design, one on the outer, and one on the inner face of the walls. In our climate this would produce nearly complete darkness; but in India, and in a building wholly composed of white marble, this was required to temper the glare that otherwise would have been intolerable. As it is, no words can express the chastened beauty of that central chamber, seen in the soft gloom of the subdued light that reaches it through the distant and half-closed openings that surround it. When used as a Barrah Durrie, or pleasure palace, it must always have been the coolest and the loveliest of garden retreats, and now that it is sacred to the dead it is the most graceful and the most impressive of the sepulchres of the world. This building, too, is an exquisite example of that system of inlaying with precious stones which became the great characteristic of the style of the Moguls after the death of Akbar. All the spandrils of the Taje, all the angles and more important architectural details, are heightened by being inlaid with precious stones, such as agates, bloodstones, jaspers, and the like. These are combined in wreaths, scrolls, and frets, as exquisite in design as beautiful in colour; and, relieved by the pure white marble in which they are inlaid, they form the most beautiful and precious style of ornament ever adopted in architecture; though, of course, not to be compared with the intellectual beauty of Greek ornament, it certainly stands first among the purely decorative forms of architectural design. This mode of ornamentation is lavishly bestowed on the tombs themselves and the The long rows of cypresses, which line the marble paths that intersect the garden at right angles, are now of venerable age; and, backed up by masses of evergreen foliage, lend a charm to the whole which the founder and his children could hardly have realised. Each of the main avenues among these trees has a canal along its centre studded with marble fountains, and each vista leads to some beautiful architectural object. With the Jumna in front, and this garden with its fountains and gateways behind; with its own purity of material and grace of form, the Taje may challenge comparison with any creation of the same sort in the whole world. Its beauty may not be of the highest class, but in its class it is unsurpassed. [Image unavailable.] 340. Plan of MÛti Musjid. Though neither so magnificent nor so richly ornamented as some of his other buildings, the MÛti Musjid, or Pearl Mosque, which Shah Jehan erected in the fort of Agra, is one of the purest and most elegant buildings of its class to be found anywhere (Woodcut No. 340). It is not large, measuring only 187 ft. by 234 ft. over all externally; and though raised on a lofty stylobate, which ought to give it dignity, it makes no pretentions to architectural effect on the outside; but the moment you enter by the eastern gateway the effect of its courtyard is surpassingly beautiful. The whole is of white marble, and the forms all graceful and elegant. The only ornament introduced which is not strictly architectural, is an inscription in black marble, inlaid in the frieze of the mosque itself. The courtyard is nearly a square, 154 ft. by 158 ft. On three sides it is surrounded by a low colonnade 10 ft. 10 in. deep; but on the west, by the mosque itself, 159 ft. by 56 ft. internally. It opens on the court by seven arches of great beauty, and is surmounted by three The Jumma Musjid at Delhi is not unlike the MÛti Musjid in plan, though built on a very much larger scale, and adorned with two noble minarets, which are wanting in the Agra example; while from the somewhat capricious admixture of red sandstone with white marble, it is far from possessing the same elegance and purity of effect. It is, however, one of the few mosques, either in India or elsewhere, that is designed to produce a pleasing effect externally. As will be seen from the woodcut (No. 342), it is raised on a lofty basement, and its three gateways, combined with the four angle-towers and the frontispiece and domes of the mosque itself, make up a design where all the parts are pleasingly subordinated to one another, but at the same time produce a whole of great variety and elegance. Its principal gateway cannot be compared with that at Futtehpore Sikri (Woodcut No. 331); but it is a noble portal, and from its smaller dimensions more in harmony with the objects by which it is surrounded. It is not a little singular, looking at the magnificent mosque which Akbar built in his palace at Futtehpore Sikri, and the MÛti Musjid, with which Shah Jehan adorned the palace at Agra, that he should have provided no place of worship in his palace at Delhi. The little MÛti mosque that is now found there was added by Aurungzebe, and, though pretty enough in itself, is very small, only 60 ft. square over all, and utterly unworthy of such a palace. There is no place of prayer, within the palace walls, of the time of Shah Jehan, nor, apparently, any intention of providing one. The Jumma Musjid was so near, and so apparently part of the same design, that it seems to have been considered sufficient to supply this apparently anomalous deficiency. Aurungzebe, A.D. 1658-1707. There are few things more startling in the history of this style than the rapid decline of taste that set in with the accession of Aurungzebe. The power of the Mogul empire reached its culminating point in his reign, and there were at least no external signs of decay visible before the end of his reign. Even if his morose disposition did not lead him to spend much money on palaces or civil buildings, his religious fanaticism might, one would think, have led him to surpass his predecessors in the extent or splendour of their mosques or religious establishments. This, however, is far from being the case. He did, indeed, as mentioned above, pull down the temple of Vishveshwar, at Benares, in order to erect a mosque, whose tall and graceful minarets still form one of the most prominent features in every view of the city. It was not, however, from any love of architectural magnificence that this was done, but to insult his Hindu subjects and mark the triumph of Islam over Hinduism. The mosque itself is of no great magnificence, but none more important was erected, so far as I know, during his reign. Few things can show how steadily and rapidly the decline of taste had set in than the fact that when that monarch was residing at Aurungabad between the years 1650-70, having lost his favourite daughter, Rabia DÛranee, he ordered his architects to reproduce an exact copy of his father’s celebrated tomb, the Taje Mehal, in honour of her memory. They believed they were doing so, but the difference between the two monuments, even in so short an interval, is startling. The first stands alone in the world for certain qualities all can appreciate; the second is by no means remarkable for any qualities of elegance or design, and narrowly escapes vulgarity and bad taste. In the beginning of the present century a more literal copy of the Taje was erected in Lucknow over the tomb of one of its sovereigns. In this last, however, bad taste and tawdriness reign supreme. It is difficult to understand how a thing can be so like in form and so Aurungzebe himself lies buried in a small hamlet just above the caves of Ellora. The spot is esteemed sacred, but the tomb is mean and insignificant beyond what would have sufficed for any of his nobles. He neglected, apparently, to provide for himself this necessary adjunct to a Tartar’s glory, and his successors were too weak, even had they been inclined, to supply the omission. Strange to say, the sacred Tulsi-tree of the Hindus has taken root in a crevice of the brickwork, and is flourishing there as if in derision of the most bigoted persecutor the Hindus ever experienced. We have scarcely any remains of Aurungzebe’s own works, except, as before observed, a few additions to the palace at Delhi; but during his reign many splendid palaces were erected, both in the capital and elsewhere. The most extensive and splendid of these was that built by his aspiring but unfortunate son Dara Shekoh. It, however, was converted into the English residency; and so completely have improvements, with plaster and whitewash, done their work, that it requires some ingenuity to find out that it was not wholly the work of the Anglo-Saxons. In the town of Delhi many palaces of the age of Aurungzebe have escaped this profanation, but generally they are either in ruins or used as shops; and with all their splendour show too clearly the degradation of style which had then fairly set in, and which is even more apparent in the modern capitals of Oude, Hydrabad, and other cities which have risen into importance during the last hundred years. Even these capitals, however, are not without edifices of a palatial class, which from their size and the picturesqueness of their forms deserve attention, and to an eye educated among the plaster glories of the Alhambra would seem objects of no small interest and beauty. Few, however, are built of either marble or squared stone: most of them are of brick or rubble-stone, and the ornaments in stucco, which, coupled with the inferiority of their design, will always prevent their being admired in immediate proximity with the glories of Agra and Delhi. In a history of Mahomedan art in India which had any pretensions to be exhaustive, it would be necessary to describe before concluding many minor buildings, especially tombs, which are found in every corner of the land. For in addition to the Imperial tombs, mentioned above, the neighbourhoods of Agra and Delhi are crowded with those of the nobles of the court, some of them scarcely less magnificent than the mausolea of their masters. Besides the tombs, however, in the capitals of the empire, there is scarcely a city of any importance in the whole course of the Ganges or Jumna, even as far eastward as Dacca, that does not possess some specimens of this form of architectural magnificence. Jaunpore and Allahabad are particularly rich in examples; but Patna and Dacca possess two of the most pleasing of the smaller class of tombs that are to be met with anywhere. Oude and Mysore. If it were worth while to engrave a sufficient number of illustrations to make the subject intelligible, one or two chapters might very easily be filled with the architecture of these two dynasties. That of Mysore, though only lasting forty years—A.D. 1760-1799—was sufficiently far removed from European influence to practise a style retaining something of true architectural character. The pavilion called the Deriah Doulut at Seringapatam resembles somewhat the nearly contemporary palace at Deeg in style, but is feebler and of a much less ornamental character. On the other hand, the tomb of Saftar Jung, the founder of the Lucknow dynasty, situated not far from the Kutub at Delhi, is not quite unworthy of the locality in which it is found. Though so late in date (A.D. 1756), it looks grand and imposing at a distance, but it will not bear close inspection. Even this qualified praise can hardly be awarded of any of the buildings in the capital in which his dynasty was finally established. If mass and richness of ornamentation were in themselves sufficient to constitute architecture, few capitals in India could show so much of it as Lucknow. It is, in fact, amazing to observe to what an extent this dynasty filled its capitals with gorgeous buildings during the one short century of its existence, but all—or with the fewest possible exceptions—in the worst possible taste. Whatever may be said of the Renaissance, or revival of classical architecture in Europe in the 16th century, in India it was an unmitigated misfortune. The unintelligent vulgarity with which the “Orders” are there used, by a people who were capable of such noble things in their own styles, is one of the most startling phenomena in the history of architecture. The subject hardly belongs to this work, and has already been treated of in the ‘History of Modern Architecture.’ Even at Lucknow, however, there are some buildings into which As seen by the plan of the Imambara (Woodcut No. 343), the principal apartment is 162 ft. long by 53 ft. 6 in. wide. On the two sides are verandahs, respectively 26 ft. 6 in. and 27 ft. 3 in. wide, and at each end an octagonal apartment, 53 ft. in diameter, the whole interior dimensions being thus 263 ft. by 145 ft. This immense building is covered with vaults of very simple form and still simpler construction, being of a rubble or coarse concrete several feet in thickness, which is laid on a rude mould or centering of bricks and mud, and allowed to stand a year or two to set and dry. The centering is then removed, and the vault, being in one piece, stands without abutment or thrust, apparently a better and more durable form of roof than our most scientific Gothic vaulting; certainly far cheaper and far more easily made, since it is literally cast on a mud form, which may be moulded into any shape the fancy of the architect may dictate. [Image unavailable.] 343. Plan of Imambara at Lucknow. (From Measurements by the Author.) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in. It would be a curious and instructive subject of speculation to try to ascertain what would have been the fate of Mahomedan architecture in India had no European influence been brought to bear upon it. The materials for the inquiry are not abundant, but we can perceive that the decadence had set in long before the death of Aurungzebe. It is also evident that in such buildings as were erected at Agra or Delhi during the lapse of the 18th century, even where no European influence can be traced, there is a feebleness and want of true perception, though occasionally combined with a considerable degree of elegance. There, however, the inquiry fails, because European influence made itself felt before any actual change had developed itself, but in remote corners the downward progress became apparent without any extraneous assistance. This is partially the case, as just mentioned, in the Mysore; but there is a cemetery at Junaghur, in Gujerat, where there exists a group of tombs, all erected within this century, some within the last twenty or thirty years, which exhibit more nearly than any others I am acquainted with the forms towards which the style was tending. The style is not without a certain amount of elegance in detail (Woodcut No. 344). The tracery of the windows is frequently fascinating from its beauty, and all the carving is executed with precision and appropriateness—but it is all wooden, or, in other words, every detail would be more appropriate for a sideboard or a bedstead, or any article of upholstery, than for a building in stone. It is curious, however, and instructive, in concluding our history of architecture as practised within the limits of India properly so called, to observe how completely we have been walking in a circle. We began by tracing how, two hundred years before Christ, a wooden style was gradually assuming lithic forms, and by degrees being elaborated into a style where hardly a reminiscence of wood remained. We conclude with finding the style of HullabÎd and Bijapur, or Delhi, returning to forms as appropriate to carpentry but as unsuited to masonry as the rails or gateways at Bharhut or Sanchi. It might some time ago have been a question worth mooting whether it was likely it would perish by persevering in this wrong direction. That enquiry, however, seems idle now, as it is to be feared that the death-blow will be given, as at Lucknow and elsewhere, by the fatal imitation of a foreign style. |
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