The Mughals treated their architectural labours with an indifference
which was quite surprising considering all the money and effort that
went into the construction of monuments. After the demise of the owner
of the monument or the person to whom the tomb was dedicated, it was
allowed to fall into disrepair. The British went a step further and
approached them with an intent to maim or destroy. The magnificent forts
of Agra and Delhi were turned into military garrisons. Marble reliefs
were torn down, gardens were destroyed and lines of barracks were
erected in their place. In the Delhi fort, the hall of public audience
was turned into an arsenal, the arches of the outer colonnades were
bricked over or replaced with wooden windows. In 1876, in an effort to
brighten up the fort for a visit from the Prince of Wales, the entire
hall was covered with a coat of whitewash. After the mutiny, it was
proposed that the Jama Masjid be destroyed and a government building
constructed in its place. Thankfully, this plan was shelved. By the 19th century, the
grounds of the Taj Mahal had become a favourite haunt for young English
gentlemen and their ladies. Open air balls were held on the marble
terrace in front of the main door and beneath Shah Jahan's lotus dome,
brass bands played as lords and ladies danced the night away. The
minarets became a favourite place for suicide leaps and the mosques on
either side of the Taj were rented out to honeymooners. Picnic parties
were held in the gardens of the Taj and it was not uncommon for
revellers to arm themselves with hammer and chisel and wile away the
afternoons chipping out the fragments of agate and carnelian from the
cenotaphs of the emperor and his queen. The Taj became the preferred
drinking haunt of Englishmen and its parks were strewn with the figures
of inebriated British soldiers. Mobs of careless Indians vied with the
British in contriving ways to exhibit their disrespect for the souls of
the dead Queen and King. The Indians held fairs in the grounds, sullying
the premises with orange peels and other debris. Lord William Bentinck,
the governor general of Bengal from 1828 to 33 and later the Governor
General of India, took scorn for native arts to a new high when he
announced plans to demolish the best Mughal monuments in Agra and Delhi
and remove their marble facades, which would be shipped to London where
they would be sold to members of the landed gentry who wished to
embellish their estates. Several of Shah Jahan's pavilions in the Red
Fort were indeed stripped to the brick and shipped off to England. In
fact, part of the shipment included pieces for George IV himself.
Finally, plans were made to dismantle the Taj Mahal and wrecking
machinery was moved into the garden grounds. Luckily, just as the
demolition crew was getting to work, word came in from London that the
first auction was a failure and all further sales stood cancelled. It
was not worth the money to demolish the Taj Mahal.
However, despite this condemnable attitude to the monuments, there were
many visitors who were struck by the Taj's beauty. As far away as
London, symmetrical walkways and marble fountains sprang up in parks,
domes became more bulbous, gardens took on the characteristics of
Persian arabesques, cupolas and kiosks and appeared on the fronts of
government offices and even in America, in official buildings such as
the Capitol Building of Rhode Island, one can discern an outline
suspiciously reminiscent of the Taj. Clearly, the beauty of the Taj was
infectious.
Lord Curzon loved the Taj. Shocked at the monument's dilapidated state,
he restored it to its present condition. With his encouragement, by the
beginning of the 1900s there was a growing interest in Indian art.
In Delhi and Agra, more than £50,000 was spent on renovating the
dilapidated monuments.
Military units were evacuated from the forts of both cities and a
multitude of marble mosques and tombs, which had been turned into police
stations, ticket offices and kitchens were returned to their proper
use.
