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alive. Lacking this pressure, this craving for expression and expansion, Persian art, having reached a climax of superb decoration, suddenly fails and ebbs away into lifeless repetition. The Indians, whatever their defects, belonged to a world of which the very life-current was religious and philosophic thought and emotion. And one cannot but think that it was this superior depth and intensity of mind which impressed the minister of Akbar, this superior 'conception of things.' Certainly the work of the Indian painters of the Mogul Court, while far inferior in richness of pattern and splendour of colour to the classic painting of Persia, shows always the trace of an underlying spirituality. It is by no means an enfeebled and imitative continuation of the Persian style. At the same time we must not fall into the error of considering the Mogul school as typically Indian. The painters of the Court of Delhi were greatly influenced by Persian models; and they worked to please an emperor who had ideas of his own and to whose wishes they conformed. The remarks quoted by Abul Fazl indicate Akbar's attitude to art. A scrupulous fidelity in drawing God's creatures was the quality most to be prized. And portraiture, in a wide sense, is the main field and the main excellence of the Mogul school. Hardly any period of the world's history is richer in portraiture of individuals than the period of Akbar and his successors on the throne of Delhi. These portraits were endlessly copied, and it is important for the true appreciation of the school that they should be seen in fine and original examples. The British Museum Library possesses (among others) a precious album, once seen by Sir Joshua Reynolds, whose special admiration of certain examples has been recorded; and we may recall the similar admiration of a still greater master, Rembrandt, attested not by words but by the actual copies from Mogul drawings which he made in some numbers. Another fine album made for the ill-fated prince Dara Shikoh has recently been acquired by the Library of the India Office.

But, though of fascinating interest from the human and historical point of view, these Mogul paintings represent, after all, a hybrid art. Exquisite in delicate truth of feature and detail, they are small in style and lacking in vitality of design. The painters confine

themselves to a narrow range of repeated poses; and the relation of the figure to the framing space is little considered. Their studies from nature, animals, flowers, and birds, admirable as they often are, are inferior to Persian work of the best period. We feel that the true Indian spirit is not deeply engaged, or employed with real congeniality. The difference is at once felt when, deserting courtly subjects, the painters take a theme from native life. Mr Havell reproduces in 'Indian Sculpture and Painting' (pl. lxiii) a 'Scene in a Courtyard,' from the Calcutta Gallery, where bricklayers are busy at work, and an old man prostrates himself before another, begging for mercy or for pardon. Here the Indian feeling finds beautiful expression even in a scene of daily life; still more is it apparent in the drawings where groups of holy men are seen in meditation, or scholars listen to a mullah's reading, while the placid work of the Indian fields goes on about them. We have only to place one of these paintings beside a classic Persian page, steeped in the joy of the senses, to realise at once the immense difference of spirit and atmosphere.

But the difference is still more apparent and arresting when we contrast the Persian work, not with the drawings of the Mogul school, but with the pure pictorial art of India. For, apart from the Mogul school, there exists a whole body of Indian painting which is entirely independent of Persian influence. This is an incontestable fact, though till recently it was not suspected, and is even now little realised. Even Mr Havell, when he wrote in 1908, did not clearly bring out the distinction. Depreciating the classic Persian art, as that of a degenerate school, governed by 'conventionalism' and 'mechanical formality,' he is unable to find any merit in it till 'the true spirit of Indian art began to assert itself in the Muhammadan world.' 'The art of the Moguls quickly grafted itself on to the older Buddhist and Hindu schools, and thus became truly Indian.' Such a view, with its attempt to represent Persian art as insignificant and merely preparatory to Mogul art, leads to confusion. Only when we appreciate the native excellence and unique quality of genuinely Persian painting, do we appreciate the contrasted excellence of the genuinely Indian style which existed side by side with

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the hybrid Mogul school and was practically unaffected by its influence.

For a fuller acquaintance with the native art we must turn to the publications of Dr Coomaraswamy. This author's account of 'Rajput' painting is now pretty generally accepted, as the production of Hindu painters, from the 15th to the 19th centuries, in Rajputana and the Panjab Himalayas.' There is still no quite satisfactory explanation of the complete gap between the Ajanta frescoes of the 7th century and Rajput paintings on paper of the 15th. We can only surmise that the medieval wall-paintings have all been destroyed, and that the Indians were slow to adopt the practice of painting on paper. It is important, however, to note that the Rajput paintings are not, like the Persian, illustrations to MSS, and have not the character of miniatures. Technically, they derive from the ancient methods of Asiatic fresco, and in their inspiration they hark back to the traditions of Ajanta. Their subjectmatter is profoundly Indian, not the life of courts and palaces, but the life of the people with its old, popular tales and romances, and its pervading delight in the legend of Krishna, the divine cowherd.

Take, for example, the painting which Dr Coomaraswamy reproduced in colours in the 'Burlington Magazine' for March 1912. Its theme is Krishna's Quelling of the Serpent. The serpent, a semi-human Naga king, dwelt in a whirlpool of the Jumna. Krishna leapt in to fight with him, while his companions on the bank cried and wailed in fear. Krishna overpowers the serpent, and the serpent's wives, mermaid figures with human bodies and fishy tails, come round him in the water, supplicating for the life of their lord. This is the moment represented. Although to eyes trained on European art the similarity of general conventions in Oriental painting may at first deceive, even a brief study of such an example as this will convince any one that it is in essentials a whole world apart from any Persian painting; it is quite different in character from even any Mogul work. It is extremely animated; it lacks the repose of the finest Persian design; and, though the colour has passages of great beauty, it has not the Persian gem-like harmonies of richness. But the main thing to note is the entire

absorption of the artist in his theme, and in making each We are refigure expressive of the emotions within. minded at once of the Ajanta frescoes; for here, on a small scale and with more delicacy of outline, we find the same genius for seizing the expressive movements and gestures of the body, the same thoroughly Indian types and attitudes, the same suppleness, gentleness and animation. Of especial charm are the sinuous supplicating forms of the Serpent-king's wives, floating and bending forward with outstretched hands in absolute abandonment to their emotion. Here is a beauty not of the senses, but of the spirit; or rather of the spirit through the senses.

The productions of the Rajput schools are as yet little known in Europe, and are still often confused with Mogul paintings. Dr Coomaraswamy has proposed a classification of them according to their provenance; placing in one group the paintings from Rajputana, the chief centre of which was the city of Jaipur, and in another group, which he would call the Pahari or Hill-Country school, those produced in the Himalayan valleys of the Panjab. While the colouring of these paintings is often of great charm, sometimes schemed in pale and tender tones, and sometimes of a vigorous depth and lustre, we find numbers that have been left in outline only. In these outline drawings the peculiar quality of the art is even more delightfully disengaged.

Dr Coomaraswamy has reproduced a series of these Pahari drawings, which make us hope that more will be brought to light. They are characterised by a fluent and continuous rhythm of line, such as we never find in drawings of the Mogul school. The sweetness of the gestures of the supple forms lends itself to this love of sinuous containing lines, and prevents it from becoming too obvious a mannerism. If the new Calcutta school, which now seeks to turn its back on the imported academics of Europe, and to revive native traditions, can learn to recapture the secret of this happy and spontaneous art, then indeed it will have done a great thing.

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Art. 12.-THE SULTANATE OF EGYPT.

ON July 4, 1261, Beybars, Sultan of Egypt, rode forth from Cairo in great state, attended by all the Court, to a marquee which had been set up in a spacious garden without the walls. Here had been brought the insignia by which the Caliph signified his confirmation of the royal title. Arrayed in these-a turban of black and gold, a long purple tunic, and a collar and chain of gold -the Sultan displayed himself to the people. The investiture was complete. There remained only the reading of the diploma. Ibn Lokman, the chancellor or chief archivist, ascended a lectern and recited the formal document which he had composed to the admiration of all future exponents of oriental diplomatic.

After praise to God and the Prophet, the orator came quickly to the point-an unstinted panegyric of the virtues and exploits of the new Sultan, among which he signalised the restoration of the Abbasid Caliphate, lately overthrown by the Mongols. His concluding paragraphs, shorn of much rhetorical ornament, may be paraphrased as follows:

O Prince, the Commander of the Faithful testifies his gratitude by making you Sovran of Egypt, Syria, the Hijaz, the Yemen, and the banks of the Euphrates, and all lands, plains or mountains, which you may henceforth subdue, not excepting a single town or fortress or anything great or small. Watch therefore over the welfare of the people. Shun ambition and the lure of worldly goods, which are but fleeting shadows. Do justice and mercy, for happy is the man who ensues justice; his days will be brighter than festivals and shine like the star on a charger's brow, more sparkling than jewels on the neck of beauty. Keep a watch over your men in authority, for whose acts you will be accountable at the last day. Choose good officers, who will dispense the law with mildness and moderation, and will use impartiality and treat all men as brothers; for to a Muslim, be he ever so much a Sultan, all other Muslims are brethren. Reform the late abuses and exactions. Wealth unjustly gained is but a load on the prince's back, for which he must one day account; and a treasury thus filled, even to bursting, is really destitute. Let his Highness elevate himself by lightening the burdens of his subjects. Let him fight in God's

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