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When Aurangzeb died in 1707, he left Delhi in political disarray. His death signalled the gradual downfall of the Mughal age. This was also the time when the colonial aspirations of the British started to become an imminent threat. But historical precision can get blurred and stories can undergo dramatic changes with the passage of time. Edited by William Dalrymple and Yuthika Sharma, PRINCES AND PAINTERS IN MUGHAL DELHI, 1707-1857 (Penguin, Rs 2,499) emerged out of an exhibition of the same name that was mounted by the Asia Society in New York, and was curated by Dalrymple. It seeks to provide an accurate account of the 150 years that followed Aurangzeb’s death, and discusses how patronage at a time of immense transition influenced the art of the Mughal era’s last years. While some historians tend to look at the years after Aurangzeb’s death as largely superfluous to the Mughal age, others view it as a mere precursor to the important years of colonization. But this book, containing essays and pictures of stunning collections of paintings, artefacts, photographs and portraits, helps one understand Delhi and northern India after 1707, and their vibrant cultural milieu. Some of the greatest music of the era was composed during Aurangzeb’s reign, even though he is believed — some say, wrongly — to have banned music. His son, Azam Khan, donned the mantle of patronizing the production of good music. Musicians even travelled with princes. Painters, too, were prolific during this time — most of them created works that documented the age’s cultural practices. This is seen, for example, in paintings of dancing girls and musical events.
It is difficult to fully grasp the importance of art and music in India before 1857 without understanding the pivotal role that patronage played during this time. As their power diminished, Mughal kings and noblemen vied with one another to engage, and hold on to, master musicians and painters. The latter were increasingly finding themselves with little choice but to work for European patrons such as William Fraser, a Persian scholar, and Colonel James Skinner. These “White Mughals”, as Dalrymple called them, adopted Delhi as their home and married Indian women. David Ochterlony even had 13 wives. The Western perspective had already found its way into the art of the period. While the paintings in the Fraser Album authentically depict local people, some others — such as the portrait of Colonel Polier watching dancing girls, or that of William Fraser in Indian clothes — reveal the “White Mughals” in their adopted environment. Skinner was an Anglo-Indian; his mixed lineage is reflected in the works he commissioned, which incorporate both Mughal and Western painting techniques. What is most interesting about this book is its collection of full length portraits. These works, depicting local people such as herdsmen, ascetics, horse merchants from Kabul and Persia and villagers, serve as authentic records of the natural landscapes of the period and the way people dressed during that time. The last section of the book, made up of photographs, mirrors the end of an era. A photograph of an ailing Bahadur Shah Zafar, reclining in captivity, is juxtaposed with a Felice Beato photograph of mutineers being hanged. It is an evocative, fitting end to a book that makes one want to explore the problematic question of whether, from the point of view of art, the last Mughals were criticized too heavily.
Left is an illustrated manuscript folio from the Padshahnama in which Shah Jahan watches an elephant fight. Top right is a seated portrait of Muhammad Shah smoking a huqqa in the company of female attendants on a terrace. This work is attributed to Nainsukh (1770-1778). Nainsukh and his brother, Manaku, worked at a time when whole families of artisans were patronized by generations of Mughal emperors. Bottom right is a portrait of Afghan and Persian horse merchants. The artist’s style was influenced by the Fraser album.
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